Chapter Eight: Amulet and Talisman

Thank you for all the wonderful comments - I'm over the moon you are enjoying the story, and I apologise for leaving you dangling, as it were...oh, and by the way, this chapter earns the story it's NC-17 rating and contains explicit sexual content.

Beltane isn't only about the sexy bits and getting pissed and having a sing-song, you know. It holds a very sacred, important place in our yearly calendar. Make your Beltane ceremony more than just a rite-by-the-numbers, or a study in call-and-response. Make it a true experience of mind, body, heart and soul; at one with the natural gifts we are all given.

~Chapter Eight: A Puppy is Not Just For Beltane – The Witchhiker's Guide to Beltane

~o0o~

You see that earth, woman?

~ Karen Motan

Severus' grip felt like iron bands on Hermione's arms. Her legs were trembling; she felt feverish and wild and grateful for his strength. They were both panting like marathon runners, their mingled breaths hot and hard enough to stir one another's hair.

As she looked up into his flushed and austere face, Hermione was nearly overcome by his incalescent beauty. Power and magic radiated from him in waves that pulsed in time with his pounding heartbeat, answering the vital rhythm of her own taxed heart. As she drank in every feature, from his hypnotic eyes to his reddened lips, he rewarded her with a slow tantalising smile that was both sensual and predatory. He was the very image of Cernunnos, her god, her mate. His crown of antlers looked organic, as if they were part of him.

Slowly and with sensual anticipation, as if she were a package to be savoured in the opening, he tugged at her final veil... the red one. As it fell free with a soft whisper of silk, he brought it to his face and sniffed deeply, closing his eyes in rapturous pleasure. With a voice that made chills race down her spine, he purred, "The most delicious scent on earth." The veil fluttered to the ground, spilling like rubies from his hand, forgotten.

She moaned helplessly as he pulled her tight to his body. The air around them was chilly, but he was a furnace; even with the light sheen of sweat on his glowing skin it was like being smelted and refined by her own personal sun.

His eyes roamed over her hungrily. "Cunning and art he did not lack, but aye, her whistle would fetch him back." His voice was pure Snape, spellbinding by inflection alone. It was low and so silkily seductive and in that moment Hermione knew she would gladly whistle the William Tell Overture as long as he continued holding her and looking at her with those blazing, kaleidoscopic eyes.

She nuzzled against him, and the scent of him, spice-laden and woodsy, made her mouth water. His breath was warm and fragrant on her face, and the feeling of his rigid cock against her belly made her quiver. Hermione puckered her lips and blew a shaky note, and when he laughed softly she yanked his head down to hers with a desperate whine.

He dove into the kiss with a deep growl of triumph, clasping the back of her head, dominating her with his large, warm hand. He slanted his face to hers, plunging into her mouth with fierce, hungry passion, and Hermione pressed hard against him. Mouthful by glorious mouthful, he consumed her, stealing her breath and her will, and when he finally broke away from the kiss she gulped for air like a drowning woman.

He gave her another crooked, wicked smile full of lusty intent. "I have well and truly caught you, goddess. Do you yield?"

Hermione's breath left her body in a gasp, and she almost sobbed, "I yield. Oh, Severus, gods, do I yield..." He pulled her down with him, muttering a Cushioning Charm as he lay her down on the moist ground. Hermione's head was full of a sweet, feverish buzz of desire as he covered her body with his, capturing her mouth in another demanding, ardent kiss. He was a heavy, addictive weight on top of her, and his moan of lust vibrated against her chest, sending her heart into a skidding, crazy gallop, even as she fought for her next breath.

He tore his mouth away from hers almost angrily, and as he looked down at her with his heavy-lidded, burning gaze, his long fingers stroked the side of her breast. "Lovely undergarments," he purred, hooking his finger into the strap of her bra. "But they are most certainly in the way."

A whispered spell later, and they were blissfully naked, and Severus Snape was plundering her, his calloused fingers rolling and squeezing her nipples until she was mewling and writhing helplessly beneath him. His tongue flickered against her taut areole, and he softly blew on the wet flesh until it ached. She tried to draw his mouth down to her breast, but he caught her wrists in one large hand and held them over her head.

"Patience," he crooned. Hermione moaned deliriously, caught up in his power, his passion, and when his mouth closed over the tight peak, she cried out his name like an invocation. He sucked her nipples hard, pulling each pert bud between his teeth, nipping, lapping, sending a screaming, twisting signal of pleasure straight into her core. She humped wantonly against his thigh, desperate for that sweet friction.

He moaned against her feverish flesh. "Beautiful witch. Open for me, Hermione." Her thighs parted like water. Warm, dexterous fingers eased into her eager slit, and he made a harsh, low sound in his throat. "Your cunt is so plump and wet. I have to taste you."

Her head spinning, Hermione hissed, "Yes! Do it..." His fingers slid through her slick folds, and some of his controlled seduction broke as he found her obscenely wet and ready for him. He teased her swollen, ripe clit skillfully, relentlessly, until her hips were rocking against him of their own frantic volition. The smoldering fire within quickly caught, and with each stroke of his long fingers she felt it grow brighter and more fierce.

Severus trailed hot, moist kisses down her belly, his wicked tongue pausing to teasingly dip into her navel, and he laughed as she squirmed. He glanced up at her, and his boyish, delighted expression completely enthralled her. He rose up, and carefully removed his elaborate crown, placing it reverently on the ground beside their spell-removed clothing. "I don't want any nasty accidents," he said, rather breathlessly, his face flushed. "Especially when I do this..."

His incredibly soft lips caressed her mons, and Hermione was suddenly aware he was nuzzling at the nest of curls, snuffling, inhaling. He was smelling her, burying his large nose in her pubic mound. It was so completely filthy and compellingly erotic she moaned, "Oh, fuck..." in a helpless, grinding voice. His silent laugh ghosted warm breath over her, as large hands pushed her trembling thighs apart. With a loud, yearning moan, he buried his mouth against her core.

Hermione dimly realised she was making ridiculous noises but she was past caring. All that mattered was this wizard, weaving his sensual spell as the breeze rustled around them like a curtain. His long fingers worked their sweet magic, probing and caressing her as his tongue drew her into a tighter and tighter coil of need. She shuddered as rills of insensate pleasure raked over her in waves.

He lapped at her thirstily, first with the flat of his warm, silken tongue, then spearing her core with the entire length of it. It rolled leisurely around her clit, teasing her primed flesh, curling inward by slow, maddening circles, until he was suckling it like a little nipple.

He released it with a hard, sucking pop that made her wail uncontrollably. "So fucking good..." he whispered raggedly. His glossy voice was roughened by desire and his fingers pumped into her tight sheath, while his thumb slid over her swollen nub. Hermione whimpered as she shook and shook.

The fire inside her turned white hot, burning through her higher thinking processes until it felt a sliver away from dangerous, like something that could deprave and corrupt them both with its combustion. Pleasure swirled around her like a conflagration that would incinerate them both, and she knew there was no way to stop the fuse as it burned its way to the explosion.

Her cunt, her nipples, her spine, her head pulsed like her pounding heart, each beat igniting burst after burst of unspeakable ecstasy through her. She screamed out her release with each gasping breath, until she fell back, trembling, twitching with the ebbing pulses still racking her body.

His eyes locked with hers, a look of incredulous, unfettered joy on his face. "Oh, Hermione, I felt it. I felt you coming. It was so ... perfect. You are perfect, my goddess."

He lowered himself to her, and rewarded her with a kiss that made everything up to that point feel like a dress rehearsal. His mouth tasted of her and his own delicious flavour, and he supped from her as if she were his only nourishment. She drank down his moans and his soft sighs, and as she felt his large, erect cock sliding between her thighs, she rocked upward, curving her hips against his.

His body went rigid and his breath caught as he slid home, his expression dissolving into a mask of pure bliss. He gave a choking cry that sounded as much agony as pleasure, and she vowed to do whatever it took to hear it again.

"So good. So warm and tight and good. Hermione..." he drew back, and hissed like a serpent. He opened his eyes, and she was staggered at what she saw. Aching, beautiful vulnerability changed in a heartbeat to divine joy, and he wrapped his arms beneath hers and hooked her shoulders.

He rocked against her, his hips churning sensuously, sending pleasure sizzling up her spine. His cock felt huge inside her, and she realised with stupid clarity that she was beneath Severus Snape, and knowledge of it was so thrilling she threw her arms around him and pulled him in, embedding him inside her as if to keep him there. He was large, and burning hot, and she felt him stretching her past anything she had ever felt before. He pushed in completely, until his coarse pubic hair nuzzled against her clit, and he was buried to the hilt. Her walls mapped every ridge and vein and pulse of his cock, and melted around him.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Like that, do you?"

"Oh, yes," she managed, and tightened her inner walls around his cock, making his eyes roll back in his head.

"Devil witch," he moaned raggedly, his old familiar sneer playing on his lips. He gave her another brain-melting kiss. "Then I predict you will like this as well," he purred, as he rose up onto his forearms.

He fucked her with abandon, without constraint or mercy. He growled and panted against her ear like an animal, and Hermione matched him, stroke for generous stroke, her legs snaked around his waist, urging him on, his for the taking, daring him to fuck her harder, faster, pound into me, dammit!

His teeth worried at her throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, but she was past caring for anything so mundane. Sex with Severus Snape was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, and their animalistic grunts and growls only fired her passion for him even as his cock pistoned into her, each stroke like bright shafts of lightning.

Pain and pleasure became the same word and the same sensation, and she held on, helplessly, unable, unwilling to slow down. It was like their run through the cornfield, a chase to get to the bottom of one another, full of innocent, pagan delight and magic and pleasure, oh gods, so much burning, wild, sweet pleasure as the man thrust and grunted and the woman shook and keened and the night welcomed their passion as their gift to the gods.

As Hermione gazed up into his taut face, the moon framed his black hair like a halo, and a corona of magic flared around him, like a blue flame dancing over his pale skin. "So...beautiful," she mewled, feeling small and helpless as he seemed to grow bigger inside her, outside her, around her. He opened his blazing, fathomless eyes, but they were not Severus' eyes...they were the burning, mesmerising eyes of a god, a true god...

"Cernunnos," she gasped, frightened and aroused beyond reason. A searing, shocking power rushed into her body like fiendfyre, and her own skin blazed with red and gold light. She surrendered to him, understanding. "My love," she screamed, in a voice that was not her own, and he cried out in recognition and exultation.

Her orgasm flung her from the edge, and she welcomed the sweet, shattering oblivion that only this kind of rapture foretold. No one could survive this screaming, blistering ecstasy and live. She held onto Severus, as his moans turned to growls and his face contorted with anguish and pleasure, and he howled her name as the gods tore their bodies apart, the best, the only true, worthy sacrifice.

The world went wonderfully, blissfully dark...

Severus shook his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, and waited for his head to clear of the lust-saturated fog that stewed every thought in treacle. His spent cock slipped from its sweet haven, making a sucking noise that should have embarrassed him, but in light of recent events, only produced a certain bleary smugness.

He'd had a moderately fair share of good sex in his life, but nothing had ever come close to this carnal, pagan erotic coupling with Hermione Granger. It was bloody inspiring. He idly wondered if he could persuade Minerva to let them do this every month for every holiday. He mentally gave himself a shake. His head was still swimming. The only thing he was certain about was Hermione. Gods, she had fulfilled every filthy dream he'd ever had and some he'd not even considered. The feel of her, the taste of her...Merlin's 'nads.

Feeling a bit more compos mentis, he glanced down at his lover, his gorgeous, witch-goddess lover. She was lying beneath him, her arms flung over her head, her long neck arched upward toward him. Her eyes were closed, and there was the faintest smile playing upon her kiss-stung lips. Like him, she was still literally glowing, but in the slow winding down of their afterglow, it was fading. Suddenly it wicked away, like the snuffing out of a candle, leaving only the two of them, lying naked in a cornfield, covered in sweat and dirt and smelling of good sex musk.

He tried to move and winced; he was going to hurt all over in the morning.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him the most brilliant, dozy smile anyone had ever given him, post-coitus or otherwise. In the seconds it took for her to come back to herself and realise where they were and what they had just done, Severus sat up, wondering what the first words out of her mouth would be.

Hoarsely, she announced, "You've been hiding your light under a bushel, Severus. That was bloody brilliant. We should have been doing this months ago."

He opened his mouth to reply, and laughter escaped before he could catch it. "Would it be inappropriate for me to return the compliment?"

She grinned. "I think at this juncture it would be damned inappropriate not to." She tucked a wayward strand of his hair behind his ear. "Did you feel...?"

"Yes. I'm pretty sure I did," he answered quickly, stretching his shoulders. She swallowed hard, and he fumbled through his discarded clothes to locate his wand. He transfigured a pebble into a glass and filled it with water. She rewarded him with a look of profound gratitude and drank thirstily, holding the empty glass for him to refill it for himself.

They sat in silence, curled up against one another, passing the glass back and forth. Sleepily, he opened his mouth to yawn, but instead, he said, "I've wanted you for a long time." The words came out of his mouth, but he felt no control over actually saying them. "I want more than just wild, abandoned sex in a cornfield with you." He pressed his lips together, horrified at his own lack of artifice. Gods, what was he doing?

"I want this to be the beginning, not the culmination, and I don't know why I'm telling you this out loud Ican'tseemtostopmyself..." He gasped, straining against the compulsion, frightened that he was having some sort of seizure that forced him to say whatever drivel was sitting in his frontal lobe at the time. The only explanation for his extraordinary lack of control was that he must have ejaculated his brains out. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't know what is happening..."

A gentle hand stroked his arm. "Severus, it's alright. It's alright."

He shook his head, unable to face her. "What a fool you must think I am!"

"I don't. Unless, of course, all those things aren't true. Are you saying you don't feel that way about me? That you are saying things you don't mean against your will?" Her voice sounded husky and apprehensive, and he turned back to her, shamed at the anxious look in her eyes.

He gave up trying to fight it, whatever it was, and took her head in his hands and kissed her. "Merlin, no! I meant every word. I just don't know why I suddenly have no internal filter on my mouth. I don't know why I can't seem to stop saying every ruddy word that comes into my head. Salazar Slytherin must be spinning in his grave right now."

She put her arms around him, and he pulled her so close he could hear her struggling to breathe. "Of course I meant it, Hermione," he continued. "I've thought about little else than you since..." he bit his lip, but the words were pulled from him mouth like fish on a string. "Since you came back to teach at Hogwarts."

"Thank Merlin," she said, and actually sagged against him with a laugh. She kissed him hard on the lips. "I've wanted this for so long now. But I didn't understand about you and Lily Evans, and now that I do..."She stopped and sighed blissfully. "I think you're bloody marvelous, you babbling madman. And I think we need to do this again and again. To make sure we're doing it right, of course."

"Like an examination," he said, warming to the subject. They held onto one another, and her body was so soft and smooth, and his cock, that treacherous bastard between his legs, stirred and bobbed toward her like a divining rod.

Her smile was impish and captivating. "Like Apparition."

He laughed and stroked her silken cheek. "Destination, determination, deliberation," he answered, and kissed her, nibbling her plump lower lip.

As they relaxed into one another's embrace, something seemed to lift from Severus, like a heavy garment removed from his shoulders. The irresistible need to spew his puerile ravings aloud dissolved with it; for a moment he was almost regretful. There was something incredibly disconcerting about it, like being given double-strength Veritaserum, but it was also quite liberating as well. Like the Christian dogma of 'Thy will be done'...

Suddenly he understood. The bright, incandescent power that had infused him while he chased Hermione, the surge of strength and elation, the exhilarating joy and other-worldly self-awareness, the blinding, overwhelming ecstasy...

"Cernunnos," he whispered, and Hermione looked up at him curiously. With a giddy feeling of relief, he explained, "I think I was being influenced by Cernunnos."

A tiny smile teased the dimple in Hermione's cheek. "I thought you knew that, Severus. The book says that true passion will call down the gods." His surprise must have been obvious, because she hastily added, "But it was still us. Still our desire, still our feelings for one another. The gods didn't take over, they just sort of," she shrugged, "went along for the ride, I think."

He frowned. "It felt like he was doing most of the driving," he answered, grumpily. Instead of replying, Hermione laughed, and his breath caught as her warm, smooth hand slipped around his cock and gave him a very definite tug.

"Is he driving now?" she asked playfully, pushing him down onto the grass. She gave him another hard, deep stroke, which made him tingle from bollocks to arse and back.

"No. But you might want to do that again, just to make certain," he managed, and she placed a warm, wet kiss on the head of his straining cock, running her tongue over the slit. His hand braided through her wild, honey-coloured hair, and he drawled, "I'd love to expand this analogy, but I can't think straight right now. Not with you doing... doing that... oh, fuck..."

Her lips parted, and slid down on his cock, painting every sensitive spot with pleasure, and he closed his eyes as she sucked him into complete and utter enslavement.

Later, after spending another lazy hour lying in one another's arms, marveling over their wild chase through the corn and snogging themselves dizzy, they retrieved Hermione's scarves with a series of Accios. They dressed, discussing the next step in the ritual as they walked back toward the centre of the circle, arm in arm. "So, I take it we will not be re-creating tonight's race through the field at the actual ritual."

"I somehow don't think so," Hermione answered primly. "On the night, we'll time it for about ten minutes, then return. Once we return, I'm supposed to be placed into an enchanted sleep only you will be able to break. It's actually part of the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale. It's quite an interesting story: you see, during the Goblin Wars, a High Priestess named Beaht was placed..."

"Ah, Professors! There you are!" They froze at the sight of Argus Filch. Severus wasn't sure if he was annoyed or relieved at the interruption.

Hermione, wearing only her scarves, blushed modestly, and Severus retrieved his large ceremonial over-robe and threw it over her shoulders. "Hello, Argus. Can we help you?"

Filch glanced from professor to the other, his face frozen in a watery smile. "Just checking the field. Was told you might be here... rehearsin'..." His weathered cheeks were stained deep pink.

Severus gave up any pretense of trying to be coy. With a sigh, he replied blithely. "Yes. As a matter of fact we have been...rehearsin'. Quite vigorously."

"And we were just going," Hermione added, her face almost as red as Filch's. "All that we have left of the ritual to do is the final part, and it really can't be done without everyone present."

"Really?" Filch answered, and there was a tone of genuine interest in his voice. "What happens after you and him, well, you know?" Filch blushed so deeply Severus thought he was in danger of spontaneous combustion. "I mean, after you get at it...I-I mean get on top of it, um, get done with it," he finished, looking exhausted with embarrassment.

Taking pity, Hermione smiled at the caretaker. "Well, the High Priestess...that's me," she said, placing a hand on her chest, "is placed in an enchanted sleep, and the High Priest..."

"That's me," Severus deadpanned.

"Um, him," she said, rolling her eyes, "leaves the circle and goes into the darkness. It's to represent winter and the death of old life. While he is away, the balefire is lit, which is Harry's part in the ritual. He is the Firebringer, and the High Priest..." she nodded toward Severus again, "returns to the light. He awakens me from sleep... and that represents rebirth of the season. Simple, really." She shrugged. "And then we all sing and dance around the fire and eat and drink and make merry."

Filch listened intently, and replied, "So you can't wake up until His Nibs returns, eh? What happens if he falls asleep or gets distracted by summat and forgets to come back?"

"Your faith in me is touching, Argus," Severus interjected.

Hermione laughed. "In the highly unlikely event that Severus fails to return to the circle, the ceremony would be defiled, and according to legend there would be a terrible harvest and ruin would come to all those involved in the ritual." She said it in a mock frightened voice, but Severus wondered just how much of that she actually believed.

Filch seemed to consider her words carefully. "Then we must make sure that doesn't happen, eh, Professor Snape?" He drew himself up with great dignity. "I was on my way to the kitchens to see if I could rustle up a cuppa and some sandwiches. Would you care to join me, Professors?"

Hermione looked up at Severus hopefully. "Actually, I do feel quite peckish. All that running, you know."

Severus felt the warmth in her eyes all the way down to his stones. "Indeed."