Desert Island Fics 2: The WIPs
May. 26th, 2014 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddy_radiatorI'm in between 'jobs' so to speak. Still decompressing from finishing the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_kinkfest fic (thank you for all your encouraging and lovely comments. I truly didn't expect this, and they mean a LOT) just submitted my sshg_promptfest fic (which may generate comments of a completely different kind, I'm afraid), before getting back to work on Her Minder. I was looking for a one-shot fic which I know was mentioned either on snapeyluvshermy or one_bad_man, which I cannot find. It's very smutty, nearly dub-con and a few years old. Snape overpowers Hermione shortly after HBP and takes her on the floor. The only thing I remember is that Hermione thinks to herself he must have used some kind of spell because he was really good in the sack. They end up leaving together to fight. To quote Deathly Halllows: Look I know it's not much to go on.... It's nothin' to go on...
Yeah, now you can see why I can't find it.
So, as you know, if I love a fic or a novel or any written piece, I will read it. In fact, I'll read the hell out of it. Over and over. And while I was shuffling through my favourites on Ash (I'm sure I had the fic above there at one time but couldn't find it), and TPP I rediscovered some of the favourites I'd first favourited when I came on board with Ashwinder. As I read through some I had forgot or had read perhaps once and stashed away, I couldn't help but notice a handful of WIPs that I had bookmarked as favourites, and still remain beloved stories. I realise that many people refuse to read WIPs and I can understand - it's tough to get to that last page and know there's nothing to follow, but the writing in these fics is so powerful, the stories so compelling, I'd love for you to give them a try.
Now, several of the authors are my friends here. Please believe me - I'm not highlighting these stories for any other reason than I just really love them. I'm not trying to pester or pull some passive/aggressive guilt trip on you or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I just want to show that there are some really amazing stories out there that people may be avoiding because they aren't finished. It is my fervent hope that one day you will finish them, but if you have no plans to take them any further - hey, I still love 'em, and I'll still read them over and over again.
Owned by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
subversa. It's no secret that Subversa has moved on to original fiction, and quite right too. Such talent needs to be shared with the world. As a fanfiction writer, she is considered on of the classic greats, in my humble opinion - one of those benchmark authors. Her fic Send Not To Know was one of my introductions into the fandom, and still remains a favourite re-read. Owned is a fic that with black-tipped wings, and gives you the feeling that, should it's climax be written, it will be at once intense and quietly powerful. In it, Hermione is a broken soul, alone in the world, too traumatised to even take care of herself. Severus finds in her a kindred spirit, one he would like to help, and it is as much the story of his own struggles to find himself and the means to help Hermione.
Tonks snorted. ‘I told him he could stick it—’ She darted a quick look at Molly Weasley, who glowered at her. ‘—Where the sun doesn’t shine!’ she finished. The table at large burst into hearty laughter, despite Molly’s disapproving glare.
When the hilarity had died down, Tonks spoke in a more introspective tone. ‘Honestly, who wants to be owned in this day and age?’
Most of the heads at the table were nodding in agreement when a voice spoke up from the quiet end of the table.
‘I do.’
Eyes swivelled immediately to the speaker, who sat alone, huddled in upon herself, the chairs to either side of her empty, as if awaiting the presence of persons whom everyone knew would not show up … everyone, perhaps, but the girl who had spoken. Her hair was short and looked as if it had been chopped off by a primary school child with safety scissors. What was left of the uneven mess hung about her forehead and cheeks in bedraggled disarray. Her face was unhealthily thin, her complexion sallow, and dark shadows circled her eyes. She wore a shapeless, faded jumper, topped by a tatty brown Muggle overcoat. Everyone stared at her for several beats, as if trying to make up their minds how to react to her, and then Tonks burst into raucous laughter, turning the mood of the gathering again to amusement.
‘Hermione!’ Tonks gasped between chuckles. ‘You kill me! As if you’d ever!’
~o0o~
She heard footsteps coming down the basement stairs, a firm, steady tread. Not Molly, then—a man. He walked to the stove, and Hermione heard the faint click of cup against saucer as he began to prepare his morning tea. She stared at an old burn mark on the table top, ignoring the rumble in her tummy. She seldom felt hunger, and in general, if she ignored her appetite, it went away.
Moments later, a long-fingered hand set a cup of tea before her, and Severus Snape slipped into the chair at the foot of the table—not right beside her, but closer than he had ever done before.
‘Two sugars and a splash of milk,’ he murmured, taking up his own tea and sipping.
Hermione lifted her eyes to stare at him. He wore his hair as he had done all the time she had known him, though at present it was freshly combed out of his face—as if he had just showered. His black robes were draped over a black suit, and overall he evinced a remarkable calm, the likes of which she had never known him to display.
‘How do you know how I take my tea?’ she asked.
‘I am … observant,’ he replied, meeting her eyes with polite attention. ‘See if it is to your taste.’
Hermione obeyed the suggestion without thinking, and the sweet, milky liquid filled her mouth with tea perfection. The first sip was so good that another quickly followed, and before she knew what she was about, she had drunk the entire cup.
Throughout the entire process, Severus Snape watched her as if her consumption of the warm liquid was of significant interest to him, and when she finished the last drop, he nodded approvingly. ‘Perhaps we could have toast with our next cup,’ he mused.
Hermione opened her lips to inform him that she never took food before noon—and precious little then, she had to admit—but what she said was, ‘Is there strawberry jam?’
Her shoulders began to relax, as never happened anywhere but behind the locked door of her flat, and it seemed to be in simple response to the sight of Severus Snape performing the very homey function of toasting bread and pouring tea. He produced both strawberry and raspberry jam, and Hermione had a bit of each, managing to eat an entire piece of toast while drinking a second cup of tea. Her companion ate two pieces of dry toast, allowing Hermione to eat in peace, maintaining a comfortable silence between them.
When she pushed her plate away, Snape leant back in his chair and addressed her in an exceedingly mild tone.
‘May I ask a question?’ he said.
Hermione felt a flicker of unease. She had been lulled with tea and toast—had actually ingested nourishment!—and now she would be made to pay for it. Something … unpleasant was coming.
‘I would like know what you meant yesterday, when you said you wished to be owned.’
Infinitely Curious Woman by a plus. This story was going strong when I first got into the fandom, and wow - it's got it all. Drama, delicious magical theory, a very ambiguous Snape and a very gutsy and brilliant Hermione. It also has some of the most explosively erotic moments in fanfiction. The premise is so intriguing; now that Severus has been told by Albus that Lily's son has to die, he makes a promise to Lily's memory that he will keep the boy alive at all costs; by bringing him to the Dark side and persuading Voldemort that he is more valuable to him alive. To this end, he plans to seduce Hermione into learning Dark Magic, then passing on her knowledge to Harry. What I love about the story is that a plus shows how this is done with the seductive power of Dark magic, and how it affects the castor.
“Devil's Eye is a Dark potion with hallucinogenic properties. It heightens your senses, makes you able to feel your magic and translates these feelings into images. Having a mental picture of what your magic looks like helps you to visualize it enough to perform wandlessly, even later when the potion is not being used.”
There are worse fates than Azkaban. If Albus came down here now…
He stopped his pacing and faced her.
“I am going to cast a spell on you and I want you to deflect it.”
She nodded and raised her wand.
He cast a mild stinging hex and watched as the light left his wand and hurled through the space between them.
He watched her shield herself against the spell, and as he felt his magic graze over hers, he had to stifle a gasp.
He had never taken the potion in the presence of another. Was it always this…intimate? Feeling her magic against his was almost like touching bare skin.
He shivered.
It took him three strides to cross the room to where she stood. His long fingers pulled her wand from her loose grasp and set it down on the counter.
“Now cast a spell,” he whispered in the darkness. “No wand, no words. Control and direct your magic.”
She held her hands before her and cupped them. Her eyes slid shut and a look of intense concentration appeared on her face. He could see the strands of her magic pulse and shimmer as she bent them to her will. Taking deep breaths, she slowly opened her eyes as a radiance began to emanate from her cupped palms. It began as a dim flicker but grew stronger and brighter.
She held the light in her hands and stared at it, entranced. Her down-turned face was bathed in the soft glow of the light she held. Her hair rustled slightly as if blown by an invisible wind. Beautiful.
She didn’t notice him come up behind her until she felt his warm breath on her neck.
“This, Hermione, this is what power feels like.”
He could feel her shiver against him.
His lips brushed against the exposed flesh of her neck and she moaned softly, leaning back into him. His body was on fire everywhere it touched hers. He let his tongue dart out against her neck, tasting the salty sweat.
She turned in his arms, releasing the light she had held between her hands and burying them instead in his hair. He caught her lips as she turned, pulling her into a brutal kiss, feeling himself harden against her hip at the contact.
He stepped back suddenly, leaving her panting and unsteady in the center of the room. Control. He needed to control himself. If Albus knew…
“You should get back to the dormitory.” He forced the words out quickly before he lost the will to say them. He was her teacher and this was not allowed.
She fled from the room and he flung open the door to his bedroom, passing through it quickly to the bathroom where he leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face before raising his head to stare at himself in the mirror.
And then he was laughing, laughing at himself for being distraught over crossing the line with her when he was betraying his role as her teacher in much deeper and more dangerous ways. Laughing at himself for being worried about losing his job when he was teaching her things that could get him sent to Azkaban. It was quaint, almost, to be so concerned with violating her body when he was so intent on ripping her soul.
Needs Must bymelusin_79. It's no surprise that I love a good Dom!Hermione/sub!Severus story, and Melusin understands the dynamic completely and writes it responsibly and accurately. There are plenty of authors who don't, and I refuse to read them, but Mel has it right. This lifestyle and interaction takes place as much between the ears as between the legs, and while it can be a completely rewarding and fulfilling lifestyle, in the wrong hands (and written by those who really don't understand it), it can be emotionally and psychologically damaging. In this fic, Hermione (who was badly wounded and scarred in the final battle and therefore wears a glamour) has found her calling (and one I have no trouble seeing her in) as a Dominant, who trains subs for pay. Severus, tired of feeling so disenfranchised in this new Wizarding world, seeks her out. He susses her out immediately, but doesn't let on, and Hermione has no idea he knows. It's intense and intriguing as both of them pull toward the centre of this relationship. It is a story of two deeply flawed and scarred individuals who are trying to find their way. It's a tricky one; they could end up together, and they could heal and go their separate ways.
‘Professor,’ she says finally, ‘most people go through life seeking pleasure and avoiding pain. What they fail to realise is that they are two halves of the same coin. You, however, learned at a very young age to associate pain not just with pleasure, but also with love. Your sexual awakening, shall we say, was also rather unfortunate–’
I snort at that.
‘ –coupled as it was with, as you saw it, the withdrawal of your father’s physical expression of his love for you. So, what happened after that?’
I trawl through my memories, dragging up old heartaches and one bad experience after the other. I was not exactly popular with the girls at school, although I did fancy one or two of them, but my physical appearance ensured I was constantly rejected – laughed at even. Perversely, the ones who ridiculed me the most were the ones I desired the most. I begin to see how these experiences compounded my feelings of worthlessness.
‘… And then there was Lily Evans...' My childhood sweetheart and, at one time, all I thought a woman should be. 'She was kind, beautiful, intelligent – the sort of person who would light up a room with her personality, and amazingly, she returned my feelings. But, when we tried dating, nothing happened – and I mean, nothing happened. I had no physical reaction to her at all.'
Mistress Roxanne nods. 'You had put her on a pedestal, but she did not live up to expectations.'
'Quite.' I am finding the astuteness of this woman more and more impressive. Is she an empath? 'However, it took many, many years for me to realise it. At the time, I suspected I might be queer, although I did not appear to be attracted to members of my own sex. So, where did that leave me? I spent hours worrying over that one, thinking I was some strange, asexual creature, until that is, the night I took the Dark Mark.’
‘What happened?’
‘Bellatrix Lestrange.’
Mistress Roxanne inhales sharply.
I feel my cock stir as I recall the night I lost my virginity. Bella looked at me, and I felt my soul burn. She knew what I wanted, all right, and she was more than happy to give it to me. I was beaten, humiliated, used and abused, and I loved every second of it. But that was the only time we had sex. She kept me dangling on a string after that, knowing she need only snap her fingers, and I would fall at her feet. I sigh, remembering the crazy bitch. Bellatrix was a force of nature, even if she was madder than a box of snakes, and for a long time, fool that I was, I would have done anything to have her use me again.
Wake, byhechicera. Hech is a great author. Her work crackles with wit and energy, and her characters are forthright and very real. Severus Snape, working for Minister Shacklebolt, is basically charged with trying to find out what Hermione Granger is up. The story is part mystery, part love (or at least lust) story, part road trip, and every chapter is funny, sharp, intelligent and irresistible. Her Snape is beautifully rendered; he's resentful being at Shacklebolt's beck and call, and very attracted to this gutsy, go-getter Hermione, not to mention impressed with her potions making skills. Together they trek through several countries and dangers. Read for the sheer fun of getting inside Severus' head as they perform their first Invisibility Potions experiment which has a very, um, intense effect on Severus:
“Are you sweating, I wonder? Because I’m looking really closely and I don’t see any sweat.”
He froze, transfixed by the sudden realization that when he ejaculated, the semen might be visible to her.
But it was too late, he was too far gone, he was not going to stop, he was damned if he would stop, it was too good, and it had been too long—
In a few swift, desperate strides he was out the French doors and onto the little balcony, leaping over the railing on the uphill side to the ground just a few feet below. Where he stood, cock in hand, and shouted OhfuckohfuckohFUCK! as he thrust forward into the empty air.
He had taken a moment to catch his breath and climbed back over the railing before he realized his mistake.
The house’s enter-me-not wards would still be in place—he had watched her reactivate them earlier that morning after letting him in. So now he was locked out, standing stark naked on her balcony, with perhaps another hour of invisibility left him, and that only if he turned out to metabolize the potion at the same rate as a bloody swine.
He looked about for something with which to tap on the glass, but the only object on the balcony was the cage with the guinea pig in it; he would have to climb back down and find a stick or pebble. And come up with a good explanation for what he had been doing out onto the balcony in the first place.
Still, it had been worth it.
Without any real hope of success, he extended his arm into the aperture presented by the open door, and felt no resistance at all. Holding his breath, he walked forward, and—to his utter amazement—stepped through the doorway into the lab as if there were no obstacle at all.
Hermione was standing with her back to him, scribbling notes on the parchment. He returned to the table and struck it once more with the tuning fork, then took the quill from her and wrote:
I’m going to get dressed now
She read the note and nodded. “I’ll make some tea if you like.”
Excellent
Fucking hell, yes, it had been worth it.
And of course, my list of WIP favourites would not be complete without Seven Preposterous Things, bybloodcult. Poor Bloodcult. She must cringe every time she sees her name on one of my posts, because I'm usually talking about this story. It's still my all time favourite SSHG fic, bar none, and I don't care that it's unfinished and I don't care if it will ever be finished. It's just so damn good. I have lost count of the times I've read it (it's on my Kindle) and I still adore it. The relationship between Severus and Hermione is so real and so flawed and so red-blooded sometimes I feel like I'm being a voyeur, peeking in on their private affairs. The moments of sex between them are so erotically charged with magic, and while Severus is no one's idea of the perfect mate, he is so compelling and mesmerising you totally understand while Hermione chooses to love him. But it's Millie Bulstrode who shines in this story as one of the greatest characters ever created. From the very beginning, she is as fully-formed and whole as any living person in the universe, and JKR wishes she could bring her characters to life with such clear, fully dimensional awesomeness (yeah, words fail me).
Millicent Bulstrode was enjoying the common room fire and darning six sets of socks at once with the new needles she'd got for Yule when it occurred to her that she had been misnamed. In a just world, she would have been called Gertrude, or possibly Grundellyn.
Millicent was a name better suited for the type of girl whose hobbies included drawing pictures of unicorns and delivering hand-knitted mufflers to the home for infirm wizards. Witches named Millicent wore gauzy robes in pastel colors and spent a lot of time singing, in tune no less. They liked flowers.
Above all, Millicent was the name of a pretty girl. Bully, as Crabbe and Goyle called her, was well aware she had all the physical charm of a slab of congealed kitchen grease.
It was the sort of thing that made her wonder exactly what her parents had been thinking. They had no reason she was aware of to expect she'd be a lovely little ray of sunshine: her gran was a typical hag and her mum was working on it. Her parents did quite a few utterly bloody inexplicable things in Millicent Bulstrode's assessment. No one in the wizarding world lived like they did any more. A gingerbread house might seem picturesque, but the number of charms required for basic upkeep was a pain in the bloody arse - she glared at one of her needles that seemed moments from dropping a stitch - when she left school she was going to find one of those Muggle pre-fab jobs she'd read about in Muggle studies. Something practical.
The practical was Millie's personal gold standard. The practical was what made a difficult life at school bearable. It wasn't her fault that she came to school bigger and taller than any other first years except Crabbe and Goyle, but she could make the most of what had been a liability. The other houses didn't seem to have noticed that she hadn't grown any taller since she first arrived. No, they still gave her as wide a berth as they did back when she could have knocked them about like skittles. Not one Gryffindor seemed to have realized that the terror of their first year was now just another short pudgy witch. She did still have the biggest bubbies in Slytherin, though. It wasn't much, but it was all she could lay claim to. Even puny little Granger was taller than Millie now.
Granger. The very thought made Millie practice her look of death in the direction of her darning. What would it be like to be Granger, all but turning herself inside out trying to please people? Even her penmanship looked like it had been taken from a manual somewhere. Millie had preposterous handwriting and wasn't the least interested in improving. All you had to do was ask and Granger would tell anything she knew. To Millie it seemed not unlike spreading your cunt-lips for public viewing at a train station. Only Millie knew for certain what Millie knew and didn't know. Except for Snape, her school masters had no notion she was brighter than your average steamed pudding, and this pleased her. She hadn't decided yet whether she would take any N.E.W.T.S., but she had managed to almost perfectly calculate the minimum of effort necessary to pass her O.W.L.S by the barest margin possible.
Still, Millie's housemates didn't underestimate her and neither did her head of house; this was enough for her.
Sometimes though, she wondered if Granger and she had been sorted together, if perhaps they could have been friends. As it stood, Millie didn't believe in casual hate. In Millie's book hate, like love, was too important to throw around like candy sprinkles. Millie imagined hate, real hate worthy of the name, was something you had to work at, tend like a loyal gardener, you couldn't properly hate someone you had known for less than twenty years. Given time she thought she could learn to hate Granger. Love or Hate, either way, there was something about Granger that pricked Millie's brain like a thorn; she was not a witch to be ignored.
Of course, there are many others, but these are definitely in the top ten. I urge you to go and have a read. Don't worry about the end, Just enjoy all the delicious bit between it and the beginning.
hp_kinkfest fic (thank you for all your encouraging and lovely comments. I truly didn't expect this, and they mean a LOT) just submitted my sshg_promptfest fic (which may generate comments of a completely different kind, I'm afraid), before getting back to work on Her Minder. I was looking for a one-shot fic which I know was mentioned either on snapeyluvshermy or one_bad_man, which I cannot find. It's very smutty, nearly dub-con and a few years old. Snape overpowers Hermione shortly after HBP and takes her on the floor. The only thing I remember is that Hermione thinks to herself he must have used some kind of spell because he was really good in the sack. They end up leaving together to fight. To quote Deathly Halllows: Look I know it's not much to go on.... It's nothin' to go on...Yeah, now you can see why I can't find it.
So, as you know, if I love a fic or a novel or any written piece, I will read it. In fact, I'll read the hell out of it. Over and over. And while I was shuffling through my favourites on Ash (I'm sure I had the fic above there at one time but couldn't find it), and TPP I rediscovered some of the favourites I'd first favourited when I came on board with Ashwinder. As I read through some I had forgot or had read perhaps once and stashed away, I couldn't help but notice a handful of WIPs that I had bookmarked as favourites, and still remain beloved stories. I realise that many people refuse to read WIPs and I can understand - it's tough to get to that last page and know there's nothing to follow, but the writing in these fics is so powerful, the stories so compelling, I'd love for you to give them a try.
Now, several of the authors are my friends here. Please believe me - I'm not highlighting these stories for any other reason than I just really love them. I'm not trying to pester or pull some passive/aggressive guilt trip on you or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I just want to show that there are some really amazing stories out there that people may be avoiding because they aren't finished. It is my fervent hope that one day you will finish them, but if you have no plans to take them any further - hey, I still love 'em, and I'll still read them over and over again.
Owned by
subversa. It's no secret that Subversa has moved on to original fiction, and quite right too. Such talent needs to be shared with the world. As a fanfiction writer, she is considered on of the classic greats, in my humble opinion - one of those benchmark authors. Her fic Send Not To Know was one of my introductions into the fandom, and still remains a favourite re-read. Owned is a fic that with black-tipped wings, and gives you the feeling that, should it's climax be written, it will be at once intense and quietly powerful. In it, Hermione is a broken soul, alone in the world, too traumatised to even take care of herself. Severus finds in her a kindred spirit, one he would like to help, and it is as much the story of his own struggles to find himself and the means to help Hermione.Tonks snorted. ‘I told him he could stick it—’ She darted a quick look at Molly Weasley, who glowered at her. ‘—Where the sun doesn’t shine!’ she finished. The table at large burst into hearty laughter, despite Molly’s disapproving glare.
When the hilarity had died down, Tonks spoke in a more introspective tone. ‘Honestly, who wants to be owned in this day and age?’
Most of the heads at the table were nodding in agreement when a voice spoke up from the quiet end of the table.
‘I do.’
Eyes swivelled immediately to the speaker, who sat alone, huddled in upon herself, the chairs to either side of her empty, as if awaiting the presence of persons whom everyone knew would not show up … everyone, perhaps, but the girl who had spoken. Her hair was short and looked as if it had been chopped off by a primary school child with safety scissors. What was left of the uneven mess hung about her forehead and cheeks in bedraggled disarray. Her face was unhealthily thin, her complexion sallow, and dark shadows circled her eyes. She wore a shapeless, faded jumper, topped by a tatty brown Muggle overcoat. Everyone stared at her for several beats, as if trying to make up their minds how to react to her, and then Tonks burst into raucous laughter, turning the mood of the gathering again to amusement.
‘Hermione!’ Tonks gasped between chuckles. ‘You kill me! As if you’d ever!’
~o0o~
She heard footsteps coming down the basement stairs, a firm, steady tread. Not Molly, then—a man. He walked to the stove, and Hermione heard the faint click of cup against saucer as he began to prepare his morning tea. She stared at an old burn mark on the table top, ignoring the rumble in her tummy. She seldom felt hunger, and in general, if she ignored her appetite, it went away.
Moments later, a long-fingered hand set a cup of tea before her, and Severus Snape slipped into the chair at the foot of the table—not right beside her, but closer than he had ever done before.
‘Two sugars and a splash of milk,’ he murmured, taking up his own tea and sipping.
Hermione lifted her eyes to stare at him. He wore his hair as he had done all the time she had known him, though at present it was freshly combed out of his face—as if he had just showered. His black robes were draped over a black suit, and overall he evinced a remarkable calm, the likes of which she had never known him to display.
‘How do you know how I take my tea?’ she asked.
‘I am … observant,’ he replied, meeting her eyes with polite attention. ‘See if it is to your taste.’
Hermione obeyed the suggestion without thinking, and the sweet, milky liquid filled her mouth with tea perfection. The first sip was so good that another quickly followed, and before she knew what she was about, she had drunk the entire cup.
Throughout the entire process, Severus Snape watched her as if her consumption of the warm liquid was of significant interest to him, and when she finished the last drop, he nodded approvingly. ‘Perhaps we could have toast with our next cup,’ he mused.
Hermione opened her lips to inform him that she never took food before noon—and precious little then, she had to admit—but what she said was, ‘Is there strawberry jam?’
Her shoulders began to relax, as never happened anywhere but behind the locked door of her flat, and it seemed to be in simple response to the sight of Severus Snape performing the very homey function of toasting bread and pouring tea. He produced both strawberry and raspberry jam, and Hermione had a bit of each, managing to eat an entire piece of toast while drinking a second cup of tea. Her companion ate two pieces of dry toast, allowing Hermione to eat in peace, maintaining a comfortable silence between them.
When she pushed her plate away, Snape leant back in his chair and addressed her in an exceedingly mild tone.
‘May I ask a question?’ he said.
Hermione felt a flicker of unease. She had been lulled with tea and toast—had actually ingested nourishment!—and now she would be made to pay for it. Something … unpleasant was coming.
‘I would like know what you meant yesterday, when you said you wished to be owned.’
Infinitely Curious Woman by a plus. This story was going strong when I first got into the fandom, and wow - it's got it all. Drama, delicious magical theory, a very ambiguous Snape and a very gutsy and brilliant Hermione. It also has some of the most explosively erotic moments in fanfiction. The premise is so intriguing; now that Severus has been told by Albus that Lily's son has to die, he makes a promise to Lily's memory that he will keep the boy alive at all costs; by bringing him to the Dark side and persuading Voldemort that he is more valuable to him alive. To this end, he plans to seduce Hermione into learning Dark Magic, then passing on her knowledge to Harry. What I love about the story is that a plus shows how this is done with the seductive power of Dark magic, and how it affects the castor.
“Devil's Eye is a Dark potion with hallucinogenic properties. It heightens your senses, makes you able to feel your magic and translates these feelings into images. Having a mental picture of what your magic looks like helps you to visualize it enough to perform wandlessly, even later when the potion is not being used.”
There are worse fates than Azkaban. If Albus came down here now…
He stopped his pacing and faced her.
“I am going to cast a spell on you and I want you to deflect it.”
She nodded and raised her wand.
He cast a mild stinging hex and watched as the light left his wand and hurled through the space between them.
He watched her shield herself against the spell, and as he felt his magic graze over hers, he had to stifle a gasp.
He had never taken the potion in the presence of another. Was it always this…intimate? Feeling her magic against his was almost like touching bare skin.
He shivered.
It took him three strides to cross the room to where she stood. His long fingers pulled her wand from her loose grasp and set it down on the counter.
“Now cast a spell,” he whispered in the darkness. “No wand, no words. Control and direct your magic.”
She held her hands before her and cupped them. Her eyes slid shut and a look of intense concentration appeared on her face. He could see the strands of her magic pulse and shimmer as she bent them to her will. Taking deep breaths, she slowly opened her eyes as a radiance began to emanate from her cupped palms. It began as a dim flicker but grew stronger and brighter.
She held the light in her hands and stared at it, entranced. Her down-turned face was bathed in the soft glow of the light she held. Her hair rustled slightly as if blown by an invisible wind. Beautiful.
She didn’t notice him come up behind her until she felt his warm breath on her neck.
“This, Hermione, this is what power feels like.”
He could feel her shiver against him.
His lips brushed against the exposed flesh of her neck and she moaned softly, leaning back into him. His body was on fire everywhere it touched hers. He let his tongue dart out against her neck, tasting the salty sweat.
She turned in his arms, releasing the light she had held between her hands and burying them instead in his hair. He caught her lips as she turned, pulling her into a brutal kiss, feeling himself harden against her hip at the contact.
He stepped back suddenly, leaving her panting and unsteady in the center of the room. Control. He needed to control himself. If Albus knew…
“You should get back to the dormitory.” He forced the words out quickly before he lost the will to say them. He was her teacher and this was not allowed.
She fled from the room and he flung open the door to his bedroom, passing through it quickly to the bathroom where he leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face before raising his head to stare at himself in the mirror.
And then he was laughing, laughing at himself for being distraught over crossing the line with her when he was betraying his role as her teacher in much deeper and more dangerous ways. Laughing at himself for being worried about losing his job when he was teaching her things that could get him sent to Azkaban. It was quaint, almost, to be so concerned with violating her body when he was so intent on ripping her soul.
Needs Must by
melusin_79. It's no surprise that I love a good Dom!Hermione/sub!Severus story, and Melusin understands the dynamic completely and writes it responsibly and accurately. There are plenty of authors who don't, and I refuse to read them, but Mel has it right. This lifestyle and interaction takes place as much between the ears as between the legs, and while it can be a completely rewarding and fulfilling lifestyle, in the wrong hands (and written by those who really don't understand it), it can be emotionally and psychologically damaging. In this fic, Hermione (who was badly wounded and scarred in the final battle and therefore wears a glamour) has found her calling (and one I have no trouble seeing her in) as a Dominant, who trains subs for pay. Severus, tired of feeling so disenfranchised in this new Wizarding world, seeks her out. He susses her out immediately, but doesn't let on, and Hermione has no idea he knows. It's intense and intriguing as both of them pull toward the centre of this relationship. It is a story of two deeply flawed and scarred individuals who are trying to find their way. It's a tricky one; they could end up together, and they could heal and go their separate ways.‘Professor,’ she says finally, ‘most people go through life seeking pleasure and avoiding pain. What they fail to realise is that they are two halves of the same coin. You, however, learned at a very young age to associate pain not just with pleasure, but also with love. Your sexual awakening, shall we say, was also rather unfortunate–’
I snort at that.
‘ –coupled as it was with, as you saw it, the withdrawal of your father’s physical expression of his love for you. So, what happened after that?’
I trawl through my memories, dragging up old heartaches and one bad experience after the other. I was not exactly popular with the girls at school, although I did fancy one or two of them, but my physical appearance ensured I was constantly rejected – laughed at even. Perversely, the ones who ridiculed me the most were the ones I desired the most. I begin to see how these experiences compounded my feelings of worthlessness.
‘… And then there was Lily Evans...' My childhood sweetheart and, at one time, all I thought a woman should be. 'She was kind, beautiful, intelligent – the sort of person who would light up a room with her personality, and amazingly, she returned my feelings. But, when we tried dating, nothing happened – and I mean, nothing happened. I had no physical reaction to her at all.'
Mistress Roxanne nods. 'You had put her on a pedestal, but she did not live up to expectations.'
'Quite.' I am finding the astuteness of this woman more and more impressive. Is she an empath? 'However, it took many, many years for me to realise it. At the time, I suspected I might be queer, although I did not appear to be attracted to members of my own sex. So, where did that leave me? I spent hours worrying over that one, thinking I was some strange, asexual creature, until that is, the night I took the Dark Mark.’
‘What happened?’
‘Bellatrix Lestrange.’
Mistress Roxanne inhales sharply.
I feel my cock stir as I recall the night I lost my virginity. Bella looked at me, and I felt my soul burn. She knew what I wanted, all right, and she was more than happy to give it to me. I was beaten, humiliated, used and abused, and I loved every second of it. But that was the only time we had sex. She kept me dangling on a string after that, knowing she need only snap her fingers, and I would fall at her feet. I sigh, remembering the crazy bitch. Bellatrix was a force of nature, even if she was madder than a box of snakes, and for a long time, fool that I was, I would have done anything to have her use me again.
Wake, by
hechicera. Hech is a great author. Her work crackles with wit and energy, and her characters are forthright and very real. Severus Snape, working for Minister Shacklebolt, is basically charged with trying to find out what Hermione Granger is up. The story is part mystery, part love (or at least lust) story, part road trip, and every chapter is funny, sharp, intelligent and irresistible. Her Snape is beautifully rendered; he's resentful being at Shacklebolt's beck and call, and very attracted to this gutsy, go-getter Hermione, not to mention impressed with her potions making skills. Together they trek through several countries and dangers. Read for the sheer fun of getting inside Severus' head as they perform their first Invisibility Potions experiment which has a very, um, intense effect on Severus:“Are you sweating, I wonder? Because I’m looking really closely and I don’t see any sweat.”
He froze, transfixed by the sudden realization that when he ejaculated, the semen might be visible to her.
But it was too late, he was too far gone, he was not going to stop, he was damned if he would stop, it was too good, and it had been too long—
In a few swift, desperate strides he was out the French doors and onto the little balcony, leaping over the railing on the uphill side to the ground just a few feet below. Where he stood, cock in hand, and shouted OhfuckohfuckohFUCK! as he thrust forward into the empty air.
He had taken a moment to catch his breath and climbed back over the railing before he realized his mistake.
The house’s enter-me-not wards would still be in place—he had watched her reactivate them earlier that morning after letting him in. So now he was locked out, standing stark naked on her balcony, with perhaps another hour of invisibility left him, and that only if he turned out to metabolize the potion at the same rate as a bloody swine.
He looked about for something with which to tap on the glass, but the only object on the balcony was the cage with the guinea pig in it; he would have to climb back down and find a stick or pebble. And come up with a good explanation for what he had been doing out onto the balcony in the first place.
Still, it had been worth it.
Without any real hope of success, he extended his arm into the aperture presented by the open door, and felt no resistance at all. Holding his breath, he walked forward, and—to his utter amazement—stepped through the doorway into the lab as if there were no obstacle at all.
Hermione was standing with her back to him, scribbling notes on the parchment. He returned to the table and struck it once more with the tuning fork, then took the quill from her and wrote:
I’m going to get dressed now
She read the note and nodded. “I’ll make some tea if you like.”
Excellent
Fucking hell, yes, it had been worth it.
And of course, my list of WIP favourites would not be complete without Seven Preposterous Things, by
bloodcult. Poor Bloodcult. She must cringe every time she sees her name on one of my posts, because I'm usually talking about this story. It's still my all time favourite SSHG fic, bar none, and I don't care that it's unfinished and I don't care if it will ever be finished. It's just so damn good. I have lost count of the times I've read it (it's on my Kindle) and I still adore it. The relationship between Severus and Hermione is so real and so flawed and so red-blooded sometimes I feel like I'm being a voyeur, peeking in on their private affairs. The moments of sex between them are so erotically charged with magic, and while Severus is no one's idea of the perfect mate, he is so compelling and mesmerising you totally understand while Hermione chooses to love him. But it's Millie Bulstrode who shines in this story as one of the greatest characters ever created. From the very beginning, she is as fully-formed and whole as any living person in the universe, and JKR wishes she could bring her characters to life with such clear, fully dimensional awesomeness (yeah, words fail me).Millicent Bulstrode was enjoying the common room fire and darning six sets of socks at once with the new needles she'd got for Yule when it occurred to her that she had been misnamed. In a just world, she would have been called Gertrude, or possibly Grundellyn.
Millicent was a name better suited for the type of girl whose hobbies included drawing pictures of unicorns and delivering hand-knitted mufflers to the home for infirm wizards. Witches named Millicent wore gauzy robes in pastel colors and spent a lot of time singing, in tune no less. They liked flowers.
Above all, Millicent was the name of a pretty girl. Bully, as Crabbe and Goyle called her, was well aware she had all the physical charm of a slab of congealed kitchen grease.
It was the sort of thing that made her wonder exactly what her parents had been thinking. They had no reason she was aware of to expect she'd be a lovely little ray of sunshine: her gran was a typical hag and her mum was working on it. Her parents did quite a few utterly bloody inexplicable things in Millicent Bulstrode's assessment. No one in the wizarding world lived like they did any more. A gingerbread house might seem picturesque, but the number of charms required for basic upkeep was a pain in the bloody arse - she glared at one of her needles that seemed moments from dropping a stitch - when she left school she was going to find one of those Muggle pre-fab jobs she'd read about in Muggle studies. Something practical.
The practical was Millie's personal gold standard. The practical was what made a difficult life at school bearable. It wasn't her fault that she came to school bigger and taller than any other first years except Crabbe and Goyle, but she could make the most of what had been a liability. The other houses didn't seem to have noticed that she hadn't grown any taller since she first arrived. No, they still gave her as wide a berth as they did back when she could have knocked them about like skittles. Not one Gryffindor seemed to have realized that the terror of their first year was now just another short pudgy witch. She did still have the biggest bubbies in Slytherin, though. It wasn't much, but it was all she could lay claim to. Even puny little Granger was taller than Millie now.
Granger. The very thought made Millie practice her look of death in the direction of her darning. What would it be like to be Granger, all but turning herself inside out trying to please people? Even her penmanship looked like it had been taken from a manual somewhere. Millie had preposterous handwriting and wasn't the least interested in improving. All you had to do was ask and Granger would tell anything she knew. To Millie it seemed not unlike spreading your cunt-lips for public viewing at a train station. Only Millie knew for certain what Millie knew and didn't know. Except for Snape, her school masters had no notion she was brighter than your average steamed pudding, and this pleased her. She hadn't decided yet whether she would take any N.E.W.T.S., but she had managed to almost perfectly calculate the minimum of effort necessary to pass her O.W.L.S by the barest margin possible.
Still, Millie's housemates didn't underestimate her and neither did her head of house; this was enough for her.
Sometimes though, she wondered if Granger and she had been sorted together, if perhaps they could have been friends. As it stood, Millie didn't believe in casual hate. In Millie's book hate, like love, was too important to throw around like candy sprinkles. Millie imagined hate, real hate worthy of the name, was something you had to work at, tend like a loyal gardener, you couldn't properly hate someone you had known for less than twenty years. Given time she thought she could learn to hate Granger. Love or Hate, either way, there was something about Granger that pricked Millie's brain like a thorn; she was not a witch to be ignored.
Of course, there are many others, but these are definitely in the top ten. I urge you to go and have a read. Don't worry about the end, Just enjoy all the delicious bit between it and the beginning.
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no subject
Date: 2014-05-26 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-27 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-26 10:00 pm (UTC)Sometimes long unfinished fics do eventually get wrapped up. Last year we got the epic end to Pet Project, the Price of Madness and, of course, the long awaited and totally amazing Lay Me Low.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-27 03:23 pm (UTC)Unfortunately, I'm not a proper author in that I don't outline a story; most of the time I'm writing as the Muse gives it to me. If something else takes priority, or he decides to drop it, I'm a bit at his mercy. I have a WIP up right now that I'm going to take down and rework, because the direction I was taking it in is not the one he ultimately wants it to go.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-27 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-27 03:19 pm (UTC)howdy!
Date: 2014-06-03 12:56 am (UTC)Genius Harry!
Harry Potter in Control.
Young Harry Magic
COMPLETED Independent!Awesome Harry Potter Stories
Independent! Harry AU! Harry Powerful! Harry
it's good to see him kick ass hahahahaha and act like he can think for hinself. there are so many things that i never thought of he really got the shit end of the stick. it's good to see this side of him. huggs