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Lion's Heart

Chapter Text


Minerva threw herself back, almost toppling over as her weight landed on her bad knee. Quickly, she cast a shimmering Protego in front of her, holding the large predator at bay.

Her student was pacing, large paws threading silently on the stone floor, head hanging low, tail lashing from side to side. There was no recognition in those yellow eyes, none at all. The muscles in her shoulders bunched as she moved back and forth, unhurried, relaxed, like she hadn’t just lunged for Minerva’s frail body, claws out and teeth bared.

Panting, Minerva clutched her throat, as if her thundering pulse could be stilled by the touch of her hand. She tried to calm her breathing, silently thanking her experience and instinct for staying a few metres away from her student’s first transformation. Because, who would have thought that sweet, intelligent Hermione Granger would become a fierce lioness animagus?


“Severus,” Minerva’s voice was as cool as always, but as he looked up from his desk, he could see something had ruffled her feathers. Thoroughly so.

“Enter,” he granted, making a quick motion with his hand to invite her into the circular chamber of the Headmaster’s office. The walls were covered with shelves filled to the brim with books, tomes and scrolls, and in the corner on a small table, his magically modified record player sat. For the moment, it was quiet, the Black Sabbath record having stopped only minutes before Minerva had requested entrance.

His face dropped into a scowl, as he saw know-it-all Granger trail after her Head of House into his room.

“To what do I owe this surprising pleasure?” he asked, feeling irritated that Minerva saw the need to drag a student into his office. As if Granger, Head Girl and Model Student Extraordinaire would ever warrant a visit to the Headmaster’s office for any offence. Most likely, Minerva dragged her here to sing her praises, and he was not about to…

“Can I have a Firewhisky?” the old witch wheezed.

Severus almost did a double take. Minerva was requesting a whisky in front of a student? Whatever had Granger done?

Curiosity won over his grumpiness, and he Summoned a tumbler and a bottle. “Help yourself,” he said ungracefully. Minerva might think it acceptable to drink in front of her student, never mind the student being of age, but he was not about to offer Granger his best Firewhisky, and he most certainly wouldn’t partake in front of her.

Well, Granger was practically an adult, anyway. She had returned for her seventh year after the war, eager to take her NEWTs and probably to raise her hands in classes with incessant questions. Thank Merlin he didn’t have to teach as Headmaster, or he would have regretted surviving Nagini. Surviving lessons with Granger had been an experience much like the Muggle trivia TV-shows he had watched in his childhood. The chit had always been over-eager.

“Are you here to tell me Granger has gotten a scandalous E on her last essay, or has she actually done something wrong?” he drawled, seeing the girl flush with irritation at his jibe.

Minerva downed her whisky, promptly refilling it. His eyebrows rose, but Granger just stared down at the tiles on the floor, twirling her wand between her fingers, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Pinching her mouth into a frown, Minerva bit back: “No need to get all snippy, Headmaster. On the contrary, Miss Granger has succeeded in her efforts to become an animagus this very afternoon”.

“Congratulations,” he said drily. As silence descended, he became even more curious. “Why are both of you looking like it’s a funeral, then?”

Minerva wiped her mouth, before locking her eyes at him. “Because Miss Granger turned into a lioness, Severus.”


The silence was deafening, and Hermione peeked up. To her great surprise, she could see the normally stoic Headmaster gaping in surprise, even blinking slightly. Then his eyes moved onto herself, and she quickly averted her gaze, feeling her lip tremble.

Of all the animals in the world, why did I have to transform into a lioness? Tears were almost burning in her eyes, and she swallowed.

Hermione had been taking extra credit lessons with Professor McGonagall this year, because she was aiming for a mastery in Transfiguration. Having always wanted to be an animagus, she had studied enthusiastically, putting all her efforts into succeeding. And now, she had.

Blinking back those damnable tears - she was not about to cry in front of Severus Snape, sarcastic bastard extraordinaire, as Merlin knew how much fuel for his spite that would be - but this was bad. Real bad.

Everyone knew that the first ten or twenty transformations were difficult, what with the animal instincts taking completely over for the human mind, before control came gradually with experience. Most new animagi needed the support of another animagus to forcibly curb those instincts, to keep one from hunting other animals, or even going so far as scavenging.

A small animagus, like McGonagall’s cat form, could never contain or stop a lioness on the prowl. The trouble was, most animagi weren’t large predators. They were dogs, cats, birds, foxes, deer or mice. To turn into animals like lions and tigers was exceedingly rare, and the danger to other animals or even humans was very real. Hermione supposed, the only thing worse than a lion, would be transforming into a dragon.

Sighing raggedly, she knew what this meant. She could never transform again, and she would need to give up her dream of becoming a Transfiguration Mistress. And now, the Headmaster would declare her unfit for further studies in Transfiguration. A lone tear ran down the bridge of her nose, as she bowed her head, hiding behind her hair.

Minerva cleared her throat. “Severus. You must help her.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Granger’s head snap up, her eyes red-rimmed and her face pale.

Her paleness, though, was nothing against the colour on Severus face. The man was positively ashen.

“Minerva…” he began weakly, but she interrupted him rudely, soldiering on before he could say anything more.

“You know how gifted Miss Granger is. Britain will lose the possibly finest Transfiguration Mistress we could get in years, if she has to terminate her studies. Surely, you can help her. If not for her, think of the knowledge we will lose in the future by stopping her career. I’m sure Miss Granger will single handedly improve the research in Transfiguration, if she gets the opportunity.”

Beside her, the girl flushed by hearing herself praised so. Minerva almost smirked, but kept her attention on Severus.

“You know, you’re the only one in Britain who can help her,” she continued, unmercifully prodding at his penchant for saving people. Oh, he had hidden it well, over the years, but after the war, it was out in the open. Everyone knew that Severus Snape was a selfless hero.

The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before he Summoned another tumbler, pouring himself a glass of Firewhisky too. By that, Minerva knew she had gotten to him. For Severus to do something as unheard of as drinking in front of a student, he had to be severely shaken.


“Minerva, “ he began again, hoping he’d be allowed to finish his sentence this time. “I … you don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, the disbelief colouring his voice.

“As a matter of fact, I think I do,” the witch said, arching her eyebrows at him. “You need to let go of another secret, to help a student. Is that so hard? There’s no shame in this.”

Frustrated, he sighed again. “It’s not about the secret,” he grunted, trying to avoid Minerva’s glare. Granger was now staring at the two of them, her eyes flitting back and forth, alive with curiosity, her tears apparently forgotten. “As a matter of fact, keeping my animal form a secret has lost its importance with the end of the war. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He swallowed, feeling queasy and almost ill with embarrassment.

“Minerva, the dynamics … what will happen … there’s a very real risk…” Gods, he couldn’t say it. Not in front of Minerva and a student. Fuck, this was incredibly mortifying.

“Yes, very risky,” Minerva snorted sarcastically, “we might utilize one of the greatest minds in Britain in future Transfiguration research.”

He cleared his throat, aware that his normally sallow cheeks had two flaming spots of high colour.

Turning to the student in question, he said stiffly, revealing his secret: “Miss Granger, I am a lion animagus too.”

And the stupid girl literally beamed at him.

“That’s wonderful,” she breathed. She was grinning so much, her cheeks hurt. “I had no idea, Headmaster, that you were an animagus!”

“Very few know, as it was a secret,” he said, looking pointedly at McGonagall. “It was never prudent to broadcast this before.”

Then he cleared his throat, the scarred skin on his neck moving as he swallowed almost convulsively. “Miss Granger… do you have any idea as to how natural lions behave… how they socialize…?”

Hermione furrowed her brow. The man was clearly uncomfortable. From her right, she heard a small gasp from McGonagall, but Hermione was now in the mode for answering questions, and filed their odd responses into a compartment in her brain for later examination.

“Lions are the only big cats living in groups,” she stated, digging for what she knew from nature programs on the telly and biology lessons from primary school. Lions hadn’t figured in her Hogwarts education, and she was not up to her usual excellence, she knew that.

Still, she rattled off, hoping that sir David Attenborough was to be trusted: “It’s a large predator, hunting in groups, and the families consist of a group of females, their cubs and one or two males. Any new male taking over a lion pride, will usually kill the cubs and impregnate the lionesses with his own offspring…”

Her voice faltered, and she stared at the Headmaster. Hermione swallowed. Surely not…? But the flaming colour on Severus Snape’s face told her she was right.

Minerva didn’t know if she should giggle or be shocked. The thought of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger mating as lions was … ridiculous at the best, horrifying at the worst.

The man was almost squirming in his chair, and then he said, voice gravelly: “Miss Granger, you should know the risk. It isn’t a given, but I think it is likely.”

She nodded sagely, not trusting herself to say anything, not knowing if what would come out of her mouth was a great, big guffaw or an exclamation of sympathy. The silence stretched, and the more Minerva thought about it, the sillier she found the situation.

In the end, she rose, saying pointedly: “I believe I should leave the two of you alone to … hammer out the details of this.” By that, she retreated hastily, her mouth twitching, but she managed to keep her laughter inside until she had entered the stairwell, slamming the heavy door behind her.


Severus swallowed. Merlin, what a mess. Minerva was right, Granger was too brilliant for him to not consider helping her. Still, discussing the possibility of having sex with a student, in his animagus form no less, was very far outside his comfort zone.

Pulling himself together, he said tonelessly: “Miss Granger. As you probably discovered, a predator has very strong instincts, and it’s difficult to curb them completely. I’ve never met a lioness before, neither an animagus or a natural, so I have no idea how the lion in me will react. Still, I’m afraid the outcome will be… mating.”

There, he had said it. Granger was flaming red, not meeting his eyes, and suddenly, he felt sorry for her. Here she was, having to choose between losing her opportunity to study the subject she loved, or mate with her old, greasy Headmaster, who had tormented her as a child.

The young woman licked her lips, and suddenly, he was uncomfortably aware of her being just that, a young, attractive woman. Not just a student, an annoyance, but a lithe woman with curves in just the right places, big brown eyes, pink, soft lips and a brain to match his own.

Severus shifted on his chair, feeling ashamed by his cock stirring. He never thought about students like that. Never. He was not about to begin now, with someone twenty years younger than himself. Nineteen, whispered a voice in his mind, just nineteen years younger. He almost snorted. As if that made it any better.

“Sir,” the girl said, her voice almost a whisper. “Are you sure about this?” Then she gave off a small, mirthless laugh, before saying: “I never thought I’d lose my virginity to my Headmaster, and in lion form to boot.”

Severus felt a shock of heat travel through his body, and his face reddened even more. A virgin. Images of a very improper kind flashed through his brain, to his shock and horror. Shaking himself, he forced his thought away from the gutter. Of course, the girl harboured no fantasies of him, quite the contrary. She hated him, to be sure.

Still, a stupid part of him him, probably his male pride, or maybe the prideful part of him that had made his animagus form a lion, made him say gruffly:

“You may think me some kind of sexless creature, being your Professor, but I assure you, I’m a man in my prime, and that will translate into my lion form, whether I will or no.”


Hermione blushed horribly. Somewhere deep in her belly, a lick of heat curled, twisted and grew, and she stared shamefacedly down on the floor. She did not want to think about Severus Snape as a man with a sex drive. Did he mean… Did he find her attractive…? Feeling her heart rate pick up, she clenched her thighs together.

Swallowing, she thought of her options, but she knew, she had already decided. She wanted more than anything to be a Transfiguration Mistress. So be it, if it included shagging her Headmaster in lion form.

Straightening herself, she took a deep breath, before looking him into the eyes: “If you are willing to try, sir, I’ll be grateful for your help. No matter … that.”

Chapter Text

The next night, in the Entrance Hall, she was much too pale, dressed in her uniform and black school robes with sensible trainers on her feet. Her nervousness was betrayed by the way she rocked on her feet as she waited, like she had too much energy for standing still.

 Severus supposed, she didn’t dare to dress casually in Muggle clothing, when she was about to meet with the Headmaster. His reputation for strict enforcement of uniform was well known throughout school. The trainers, however, was a concession to the nature of their field trip. Sensible yes, but  if everything worked out, she’d spend most of the evening running around on strong paws.   

He swept towards her, robes billowing about him as he stopped a few feet away from her. Clearing his throat, he detected a miniscule flinch as her head whipped towards him. She swallowed, her throat constricting visibly. Looking down at her, he noticed that her stature was so small, she barely reached his shoulders. It made him even more uncomfortable, proving how young she really was, compared to himself.

“Are you quite sure about this, Miss Granger?” he said, deliberately making his voice soft, giving her another option to pull out of this insane scheme.

“Yes,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes, but the blush suffusing her face told him everything. She hated it, the thought of what they might do. Still, she was so fixed on her goal to attain knowledge, to be a Transfiguration mistress, she was willing to practically prostitute herself for it.  

Self-loathing crashed over him like a thunderclap. Severus specifically told himself not to notice the way her chest heaved, but it was no use. He was well and truly fucked, a disgusting, leering old man, looking forward to ravage a young, unwilling girl. The lion in him wouldn’t stand a chance, as the man in him had started to notice the shape of pretty, little Hermione Granger. His cock was already at half mast, though his mind was not in on it.  

 “Follow me,” he said curtly, and the great doors crashed open by an angry wave of his magic, letting in the fragrant night air, filled with the smells of green, growing things and wet spring time. It was late in april, and Severus wondered: Would he have agreed to do this if it was in October? Probably not . Granger was leaving his care in two months, and that would be vastly different than having her around for the better part of a year. Carnal relations with a student… Severus shuddered, but he was also too much aware of how he enjoyed the shape of pert breasts and round hips barely visible underneath her robes. He was a creep.



The trek through the grounds had never seemed longer. Hermione just wanted it to be over and done with. The tall, silent form of the Headmaster loomed beside her, and she almost felt the need to giggle hysterically. The idea that she and the Headmaster would transform into lions, in the Forbidden Forest and in all probability mate seemed absolutely ludicrous. But the stern, displeased frown on Severus Snape’s face told her it was all too true. Still, she was thankful that he was willing to do this for her, even though he looked like he’d rather be pickling flobberworms for hours. Come to think of it, maybe he actually liked pickling flobberworms. He was a Master Potioneer, after all.  

 Trying to ease the mood, trying to forget all silly thoughts of flobberworms and such, she asked, her voice coming out as a weak, uncontrollable squeak: “How did you learn to control your lion form, sir?”  

 The Headmaster snorted, not sparing her a glance. “I had the dubious joy over being overseen by the Dark Lord himself.”

 Hermione gasped in surprise, earning herself a brief stare from the wizard beside her. “Was he an animagus? I had no idea!”

“No,” the man grunted, voice gruff and deep like always. “He wasn’t. However, he had no qualms about letting me learn control by myself. He wasn’t squeamish about loss of life, so to speak, and he found my form wildly funny, telling me I was a closet Gryffindor. That, however, didn’t stop him from … utilizing … my lion form in certain situations.”

 At that he gave her a quick glance, like he wanted to see if she understood what he was telling her. Desperately, she tried to control her horror, but somehow, her reaction was telling enough, and he merely nodded, seeing his message had sunk in. Merlin, he had killed in lion form for Voldemort? No wonder he wanted to keep his form a secret, apart from the obvious embarrassment of being a Slytherin lion animagus. At this point, she could only feel sorry for him. The transformation process was supposed to be a source of joy and power, but for him, it would also mean bad memories, guilt and pain.

Continuing, the Headmaster said: “However, the Dark Lord made sure to protect himself, and cuffed me around the ears if I did something he didn’t like. I must have transformed nearly fifteen times before I found a semblance of control.”

 Her eyebrows shot up, and she breathed: “Isn’t it supposed to be virtually unheard of, figuring out control on one’s own?”

 The Headmaster snorted. “Yes,” he said curtly. “It is, that’s why I said a semblance. I do have control, and I will not kill anyone … accidentally. But the kind of control Minerva has - no. You will need to study more under her, from the moment we’re sure you can keep yourself from killing her. I can only teach you rudimentary control, because I haven’t ever had the time nor the inclination to do an in-depth study of Transfiguration. Transforming is … not … something I cherish.”

 They walked in silence, the trees of the Forbidden forest thickening around them. Entering a clearing, he stopped. “Right,” he said, looking almost nervous. “I’ll transform first, and then you. At least, I can keep myself from attacking you while you are in your human form.”

 “What about the animals and creatures living here?” Hermione asked anxiously. “I don’t want to kill someone.” She had fretted half the night over this, not getting any sleep. She was no killer, that’s for sure, barely being able to swat a fly!      

He rolled his eyes impatiently. “The creatures and beings have been warned. The animals, however, are not protected. You need to learn to hunt, to accept your form and its natural urges. Or else, you will not be able to control it. You cannot work against the instincts of your animal, you need to work with it. You must allow your predatory, animalistic instincts to shine through in some way or another.”

 She bit her lip. He was right, she knew that. Still, it pained her, knowing that she’d kill tonight.

“Ready? Transform after I’m done,” he said.

 Hermione watched with curiosity and wonder, as the stern Professor Snape shifted and   shimmered in front of her, and then a very large, golden lion with a heavy, black mane stood in front of her. He shook himself, tail lashing slowly, and he lowered his head, sniffing at her, before looking expectantly at her.

He was beautiful. Big, strong, with great paws threading on the ground, his weight pressing into the soft forest bed. His coat was sleek, with a few silvery scars, and his yellow eyes followed her with a keen intelligence.

 Hermione took a deep breath, before she whispered “ Transverto” , pointing her wand at herself, focusing inward. Her form blurred, and then she was gone .

  The male’s eyes clouded over as he saw her, his ears twitching, and then he was staring at her with interest, tail lashing. She sniffed at him, crouching slightly, wondering if he was a threat to her. He seemed familiar, but he was not of her pride. A stranger, though a strong, strapping one. Probably dangerous. He was too big for her to win, and if he attacked, she’d be killed. His smell was intriguing though, a mix of fierce protectiveness, sheer lust and the deadly, cold smell of an experienced killer. Yes, dangerous.

 Her own tail went between her legs, and she bared her teeth at him, before she bolted. Her muscles bunched as she bounded off, legs stretching out like she was flying through the forest. It was exhilarating, pure strength surging through her, the night air filled with the smell of green things and small, insignificant morsels of meat scrambling away from her, as her paws hit the earth again and again, gathering speed as she weaved through the trees.

  There was a low growl behind her, and the male was after her, chasing her.  Low snarls were rumbling from his chest as he thundered behind her, twigs snapping, and she was getting careless, cutting corners, thorny bushes scraping her skin as she tried to shake her follower.

  Her blood was up, and she revelled in the fierce joy of speed, power and might. But he was gaining on her, even as she ran, his breath coming from right behind her, his bigger and stronger legs propelling him forward. Then he was parallel with her hindquarters, and she knew what would happen, only seconds before it actually did.



The small lioness didn’t have a chance. She was to be his, he would claim her, take her, and he’d make her a part of his pride. He launched himself at her back, claws extended, and pulled her down, rolling around on the soft ground, before coming up on top, holding her body still between his paws, claws settling into her shoulders, forcing her into submission with a vicious bite in her neck.

  She screamed in rage, but he used his weight and size to pin her down. The lioness tried to twitch her tail, creeping and crawling away, but he growled, biting down on her once again, before she finally submitted to him. Lining up his hips, he thrust forward, pushing against her opening, forcing himself through, settling inside her. A pained whine came from the lioness, even as he gave a low growl of pleasure. As he rutted against her, she turned her head, baring her teeth at him, and he did likewise to her to show her his strength. Pumping faster, he roared as his climax hit him, his seed rushing out to impregnate his lioness.  

 Severus regained control over the lion, feeling ashamed by the brutality of the act , though he knew this was a standard lion coupling, nothing special, though it seemed too rough by far for humans. The lioness - Granger, he reminded himself - whined and growled as he pulled out. She rasped her tongue over her hindquarters, and giving him a snarl, she bolted again.

 Something red, misty and primal fought for control, the lion clawing its way to the front of his mind, and he was off, chasing after the lioness again to claim her…



Hermione felt dazed, being brought out of her lioness form by a spell, and for a few moments, she was merely laying on her back, blinking into the night sky. Stars were twinkling over her head, and the canopy of great trees were rustling softly. The ground was cool at her back, damp and soft.

 Her mouth tasted coppery, and there was a wetness around her lips, running down her chin. Licking her lips, the taste and smell of metal, iron and copper, a harsh, unforgiving strong taste, became even more pronounced.

 She felt nauseated. What was that on her face, in her mouth? Gods, it was blood, wasn’t it?

Making a small movement with her arm made pain shoot through her body. She literally ached all over, like she had used a thousand muscles that she’d never knew she had, and being trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs besides. And…

From her left, a deep voice said cautiously: “Are you alright?”

 Letting out a big breath, she answered, equally cautious and confused: “I don’t know.”

 She winced, as she sat up, and in front of her, the grim face of her Headmaster emerged. But… he wasn’t scowling now. He looked instead worried and embarrassed.

 Correcting her own assessment, she replied: “I feel like shit. Aching all over…”

 Then her brain started to cotton on. She had transformed, and then…. Vague flashes rolled through her brain, a confusing mix of running, of hunting, of killing and eating, of being held down, trapped, by a strong body several times, something going in her between her legs, pumping motions, and then an awful, tearing feeling as a spike rasped her insides raw, herself whimpering, cowering, before that weight finally was removed.

 Rising quickly, she gasped: “Did we..,” just as a rush of sticky wetness trickled out of her, wetting her knickers and jeans. Mortified, she averted her eyes from him, but he said, voice strained and angry: “We did.”

 The rustle of his robes seemed too loud as he moved towards her, raising his wand, pointing at her stomach, and a soft, bluish glow spread out, entering her stomach. Inside, she felt a small tingle.

 “A Contraceptive Charm,” he said flatly, almost scowling at her.

 “Thank you,” she whispered. Then her natural curiosity took over, asking: “Is it even possible…?”

 He shrugged. “How would I know, Granger? This isn’t really into the realm of the usual animagi lore, is it? Better to not take any chances.”

 “Right,” she swallowed, before offering: “But lions go at it until the lioness is pregnant, isn’t that so?”  

 “According to biologists, yes.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable by now.

“So, if you use the Charm, this will happen every time we transform together.”

 “One would think so, though I cannot say the alternative is more pleasant.” His voice was dry and unamused, those black eyes glittering darkly at her.

 “That also explains the fact that I seem to remember it happen several times tonight, though it’s very hazy, almost dreamlike…” she mused.

“Granger!” he barked, face suddenly flaming red. “I would be delighted if you could refrain from talking about this. It’s damned awkward as it is.”




The next morning, he was buttering his toast when his eyes caught her. Her black school robes were open, displaying a white shirt looking tighter than any school girl had the right to wear. Something fiery hot, like a lick of flames, shot through him, settling in his groin as a throbbing nuisance. Grimacing, he shifted on his chair, making more room for his cock in his trousers. What the fuck? It had to be those dreams. All night he had dreamt of taking her. Her human body, that is. Fucking her from behind, him on top of her, her riding him, sideways, even rubbing his cock between those pert tits…

 Severus lifted his cup of strong, black tea to his mouth, inhaling the scent of Hogwarts best, quality tea, reserved for the Head’s table and the Headmaster’s quarters only, taking a big gulp to calm himself and clear his mind.

 Then he noticed, that red-headed buffoon, Ron Weasley, had his arm casually slung around her shoulder, and she was laughing at the boy. The next surge in his body was green-tinged, violent, sneaking into his heart and mind, and he groaned, rubbing his forehead. Gods, no. He knew this feeling. It was jealousy and possessiveness, for crying out loud. He had no right.



“Are you alright, Severus?” Minerva said, giving her boss a curious glance. He looked like he had a shit morning, she rather thought, like he had a massive hangover.

 Severus groaned again, staring fixedly down in his cuppa, making her worried.

“Severus! Should you visit Poppy? You certainly sound like you’re on your last leg here.” She peered into his face again, making him grimace at the attention. Foolish man, he had never been able to discern between caring and manipulation. No wonder, though, with the life he had led, Minerva thought sadly.  

 “Shut it, Minerva,” he said rudely. “I just fulfilled your request yesterday, and I think I’m allowed to wallow a little in self-pity after that experience”

“Oh,” she said softly, immediately realizing the situation. “She told me she’d go through with it. Does this mean, I mean, did you actually … Like you feared…?” Minerva couldn’t bring herself to say it, but the anguished glance he sent her told her everything.

 “There,” she mumbled, patting his arm lightly. “You’ll survive. She’s a lovely girl, and when she’s a Transfiguration Mistress, you’ll both laugh over this, sometime in the future.” Somehow, she hadn’t thought a grown man would be so worried and distraught for shagging a beautiful, young woman, but his reaction served to his credit. He was a good man.

 Severus just snorted, and downed his cup of tea.       


Hermione walked with a spring in her steps, happy to know her Transfiguration education was back on track. Yesterday, the Headmaster had give her a small vial of a Painkiller Potion, to survive the aches and stiff muscles that went with bounding about in the forest for hours, and she had been very grateful for the way he had taken care of her. Though, it hadn’t escaped her notice that he had downed a vial himself. “I don’t usually transform,” he had grumbled, when he noticed her curious gaze. With an almost fond smile, she thought that after the war,  he was both very much himself and very different at the same time. Gruff and sarcastic, but also in a way caring. All in all, last night had been splendid, apart from the awkward thought of mating, though luckily, she only remembered that as very hazy, in disconnected impressions.  

Now, she was laughing at a stupid joke Ron had told her, bumping her head on his shoulder, just to show him she cared, even though all his jokes were all much too daft, and his shirt should obviously have been in the wash yesterday from the smell of it. Still, she laughed, thinking about how she enjoyed his friendly banter.  

 Sitting down at the table, she peered up to the Head table, and blinked. Severus Snape was , sitting on the large, ornate Headmaster’s chair, staring at her with a ferocious scowl on his face. He looked like he hated her, like he most of all wanted to step down from the Head table and shake her, like she was a disobedient kitten. Hermione almost winced, she hadn’t know he found her just so distasteful, so vile.

 Quickly, her mood dropped, and she stared down on her plate, biting her bottom lip in deep thought. If he actually disliked her so intensely, helping her in this way was a supreme act of self-sacrifice. Not only letting her in on his secret, training her, but also agreeing to invade her body in animagus form, though he obviously hated her.

 Hermione felt tears start to form in her eyes. Severus Snape was a hero. Everyone knew that, sacrificing his reputation and nearly his life to save the son of his lost love. Of course he would hate having anything to do with her. But really, was she that repulsive to him?  Somehow, she felt injured, in a part of her she could only name as her pride in being a reasonably attractive female. She wasn’t bad-looking, and she was certainly intelligent, maybe even brilliantly so.

 Giving him a stolen glance, seeing him talk to Professor McGonagall, he caught her looking at him. At the same time, Ron stole the toast from her plate, giving her an apologetic smile, while mumbling something about being “bloody hungry, damned porridge not enough,” and the Headmaster’s eyes blackened into rage, mouth wrenching into an irritated sneer, eyebrows rising arrogantly up. She felt his gaze like a punch in her stomach, and her lip trembled in the face of his hatred.   The fact that Severus Snape seemed to feel such an active aversion to her, made her sad, more than a little insulted, and oddly enough also very disappointed. Because she really, really wanted to please him, to gain his respect.     



Severus scrubbed his face tiredly. The past few days had been hell. When he saw her at meals or passed her in the corridors, he felt flickers of inexplicable anger, directed at the males around her. And they were always around her: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, who to his surprise had actually turned into a decent young man, and of course Ron fucking Weasley, who looked at the witch like she was sunrise itself. There were more of them too, other Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and even a couple of Slytherins who drifted around her, obviously interested in more than her brilliance in class.

And he, a grown man, a powerful wizard, wanted to curse those schoolboys for walking beside her, talking to her or in general just being around her. This lion business had gone much too far into his personal life. Now, Severus the man wanted to claim Hermione the girl. And that was … more than unexpected, and very much fucked up. He hadn’t cared a whit for the girl in that respect before this had happened.

 She had been an annoying brat among others up to the night he knew she was a lioness, but now a part of him growled at the thought of her being with another man. The rest of him felt, to put it plainly, horrified by this turn of events. Wanting a student… He was a lecher.

Tonight, at least, the lion in him would be satisfied. They were meeting up in the Entrance Hall again, to trek into the forest for another transformation, another encounter, another fuck . And his cock was rock hard, already leaking in anticipation.  

Chapter Text

Hermione was more than a little apprehensive as she waited for him. She paced back and forth on the stone tiles, agonizing. It was wrong to continue this, wasn’t it? If he hated her this much...

She whirled around, as his dark, silky voice came from behind her. “Are you ready, Miss Granger?” 

Her nerves faltered, and she swallowed the nice speech she had prepared, where she would thank him for his kind offer, but unfortunately she’d decline further instruction… Instead, her voice came out as a small squeak: “Yes, sir!”

 “Good,” he almost purred, and then they were off.

She glanced at him as they walked, pursing her lips. His tall frame was still thin, but he had filled out after the war. His body was more muscular than she had thought, before seeing him without his teaching robes. In fact, he looked like he was in good shape. The face was still the same, though, hooked nose, black, brooding eyes and a mouth permanently twisted into a disdainful sneer.

Still, having him mount her in lion form wasn’t that bad. Certainly, it felt surreal, but as they walked towards the edge of the forest, she mostly felt excitement. Like she … wanted … this. Like he was her mate… Shaking her head to clear away the confusion, she reminded herself that he didn’t want her. To him, this was coaching, almost like a business transaction, though he obviously didn’t get anything he wanted for himself out of this.

Mulling over this as they walked, she tried to keep her excitement down by thinking of his scowls over the past few days, but to no avail. Embarrassed, she realized she was getting aroused instead. His strict manner, those angry looks, the power he wielded over her as Headmaster, with the right to discipline her if she broke a rule… Just like how a lion would rule his pride. Oh, she wanted to please him, so much…

Inexplicably, her pulse became more rapid, her face and chest felt flushed, nipples were chafing against the fabric of her bra, and that ache between her legs started to grow, making her want to rub her thighs together, clenching her muscles.

As they reached the clearing, she felt dry-mouthed and decidedly wet between her legs, and humiliated by the reactions of her own body. She must be going insane, thinking like this . To her confusion, she realized she both lusted after and dreaded the cool, impassionate expression he surely sported.

And then he swirled around, facing her, and his eyes were all alight with a ferocious craving.



He felt sick with guilt as they walked back to the castle. How many times had he taken her this night? Lions obviously had quite another stamina than the run-of-the-mill-wizard, and he feared the count was somewhere between ten and twenty, and more likely close to twenty.  Which made him feel even more awkward around Granger: Merlin, fucking the girl twenty times in one night!

The girl had had to run several Tergeo Charms over her jeans and robes, as her clothes were positively drenched in semen, her face blushing scarlet, and she was refusing to look at him. As for himself, Severus felt like his balls had been hung out to dry, and squeezed until he hadn’t another droplet left.

The first time they had transformed together, they hadn’t coupled nearly half the times they had in this round. He figured, it was because last time, he had spent quite some time chasing her, before pinning her down. This time, she had seemed more … eager .

Severus swallowed. Surely, that couldn’t be, but… The fact remained, she had waited submissively for him to mount her, though she had taken swipes at him when he withdrew. No wonder, with that barbed spikes he had on his lion penis.  



The pattern repeated itself for the next, two weeks. They were out, transforming, two nights a week, fucking indiscriminately in lion form, and in between, the Headmaster looked like a thundercloud every single time she saw him.

The runs in the forest, however, was great, and she felt like she was beginning to remember more clearly what she was up to as a lion. The great, black-maned male kept her in check, stopping her from killing everything on sight, leading her away from dangerous situations, teaching her how to be a lion without losing herself. She felt protected, and she knew she could trust him to keep her safe, even from herself and her lioness.  

Hermione knew, remembering was the first step towards controlling her form, and she felt happy and pleased with her progress. And surprisingly enough, she was strangely elated by the thought of the great, black-maned lion who dominated her during their transformations, growling into her ears, biting her neck, pressing her down with his weight as he inserted his penis into her body.

The thought of him gave her thrilling, little chills down her back, fueling her fantasies late at night behind the curtains of her four-poster bed. She thought of how the Headmaster could take her as a man, pinning her down like he did when in lion form. It felt right, like something he should be doing, and she wondered: Was this something that came with him being her mate in lion form? Was he actually her mate when they transformed?    

Still, his scowls and grimaces upon seeing her around school also worried her. When they were in the forest, he seemed just fine, though a little embarrassed, just like her. Inside Hogwarts, he still looked like hatred was boiling inside when they met, and if she wasn’t mistaken, these days, she bumped into him far more often than she had used to do. It was difficult to wrap her head around it, and she felt like he was playing her hot and cold. She couldn’t help feeling slightly disturbed by the way she now, more than ever, wanted to please her professor. After all, she was a tough girl, who made her own decisions. Hermione Granger didn’t need Professor Snape to validate her worth, did she?

Therefore, she became incredibly worried when one morning, she received a summons to his office after dinner. Would he end the lessons? She fretted almost all day, making her friends exasperated.

As they were doing their homework in the library, Ron said teasingly: “Blimey, Hermione, if you are summoned by Snape, it’s probably because he wants to rant about you getting too good grades.” She peered owlishly at him over her mountain of books and scrolls, and then Ron laughed, slinging his arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. She noted other students giving them covert glances, hiding behind their books at they stared at the Golden Trio.

She squirmed out of his grip, thinking that Ron had been suspiciously free with embraces and the like for that past month. It was almost like he wanted to renew the brief relationship they had just after the war. That had fizzled out into a few kisses and some fondles, with both of them realizing this wasn’t what they were looking for, deciding to stay just friends afterwards to Harry’s great relief. Oddly enough, Harry had seemingly expected some sort of epic row as Ron and her broke up. She didn’t know why, as if the two of them would ever do something like that, she mused.

Harry snorted, and reasoned with them: “Look, Hermione, Snape may be a git still, but he’s not that bad. He’ll probably offer you a Hogwarts teaching position.”

For a moment, her brain collapsed, and she squealed: “Harry, do you think so?”

Her friend chuckled, and shrugged. “How would I know? Though if he doesn’t, he don’t know what he’s missing out on. He should be overjoyed to have you.

Gathering her thoughts, she almost blushed. The boys had absolutely no idea about the lessons she had been taking with Snape. First, because Snape had demanded that no one knew, and second, because they would react extremely badly to the idea of the two lions mating. Hermione was sure, Ron and Harry would accuse Snape of taking advantage, and while she was more than sure that wasn’t the issue, there was no way she’d want to tell the boys she had been fucked by her Headmaster in lion form - even enjoying it.  

“I ...I ... “ she stuttered, before resorting to an answer to avert their attention, rolling her eyes like she was exasperated: “Honestly, boys, it’s Professor Snape. You should know that by now!”

The groans she got as an answer was satisfying, but at the same time frustrating. They were her friends, they shouldn’t let themselves be diverted this easily. After all, both of them knew something was bothering her.



When she entered his office, Severus felt like he had to grip his desk hard from keeping his hands from shaking. Was he really going to do this? But the green-tinged monster roaring around in his mind just confirmed his decision.

“Sit,” he nodded curtly at the single, uncomfortable chair in front of his desk.

She moved forward with that lithe grace he had come to associate with her, round hips swaying seductively, while the tip of her tongue wetted her lips. She was nervous, it literally rolled off her.

Falling prey to his own nervousness, he quickly scanned her thoughts, but straightened imperceptibly at what he found. Gods, she was more afraid for him putting an end to their lessons than anything else? That was a pleasant surprise, and it would make this situation a lot easier to handle.

Sitting back in his own, comfortable, cushioned chair, he felt like he had gained confidence by his sneak peek at her thoughts. “Miss Granger,” he began, “I need to alert you to a problem with our lessons.”

And then her face fell, and tears started glittering in her lashes. “I knew it,” she moaned brokenly. “I just knew it was too good to be true. Please, sir, I want to be a Transfiguration Mistress...”

“I’m not going to end the lessons,” he said quietly, making her head snap up to watch him. “That is, unless you want to.”

“Oh no, sir, not at all, sir!” she exclaimed hurriedly, blinking back her tears.

“You see, Miss Granger, the lion’s claiming of you as a lioness is spilling over into my human life,” he said, voice low, but keeping his gaze locked on her.

A slight blush rose in her pretty face, but she furrowed her brow. “Spilling over? I’m not sure I understand, Headmaster.”

“I think you do,” he continued, still keeping his voice even and smooth. “I cannot watch you with other men - boys - without getting strong urges to curse them into oblivion. Just like the lion would feel for a lioness in his pride, to protect her from other males. And,” his voice broke down into a more ragged note: “it also translates into the fact that I want you.”


Hermione blinked, gaping stupidly at the Headmaster. His black eyes were boring into her, like he wanted to reach the core of her soul.   Of all the things she had expected him to say… “You want me?” she repeated with uncertainty.   

“Yes,” he confirmed, before saying it again: “I want you.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then her natural curiosity took over: “As a woman, you mean, not like a lioness?”

A faint spot of colour seemed to rise in his cheeks. “Yes.”

“And you’re jealous?”

He frowned, giving her an irritated glance. “On every single male you talk to, touch or laugh with. Anyone in your vicinity, actually.”

“That’s… That’s … impractical,” she replied lamely.

The Headmaster snorted. “You can say that again, girl!”

“What should we do, then?” she asked, confusion filling her brain like fog. He had called her up here to his office to tell her he was jealous and that he wanted her? It was so far from anything she had expected, she was completely thrown. Well, it certainly explained all the glares she had gotten… Her belly tightened by he thought, and tendrils of fire were pooling, making her wanting to rub herself on the chair.

“Now that is a question for the ages,” he said wryly. “This affects me much more strongly than I’ve ever believed. I suppose we could either wait it out, which has a risk of me actually attacking a student, or you could, for the rest of your time at Hogwarts, give me a promise of fidelity. I mean, a temporary promise, where you set the time limit, releasing the vow late in June. That should satisfy the jealousy, I should hope.”  

“But not the desire,” she said, tonelessly.


She could barely breathe. Her nub was swelling, aching to be touched, and she was sure her underwear was drenched in wetness. Severus Snape wanted to have sex with her. He wanted to fuck her.

Her mind was assaulted by images of her own, sexual fantasies and dreams. Those thoughts where the Headmaster commanded her to strip down for him, crawl towards him, open his belt buckle, unbuttoning his trousers before she was ordered to take him in her mouth. His cock would be large, salty to the taste, with a drop of precum on the tip of the red, swollen head…

Giving off a sigh, or rather a borderline moan, she whispered, looking behind him, not meeting his eyes: “Or you could actually claim me as a woman too.”


Severus growled in surprise. Though the shiver that passed over his body was scorching hot, the hairs on his arms stood up in like he was freezing with goosebumps.

The girl trembled at his growl, and for a moment, he thought she was afraid. Then she agonizingly slowly rubbed her thighs together, and he could tell her nipples was hard underneath her thin summer school shirt.

The teacher in him screamed no , she’s a student!  But the lion completely overruled that, almost roaring in triumph inside him, and instead, he said gruffly: “Come here, girl.”

Obediently, she rose, walking around his desk, standing before him with her eyes submissively lowered. He felt chills of pleasure racing down his spine, and he rasped: “Undress. Slowly.” His cock was already hard, and he felt the throbbing increase as he looked at the delicious, little witch in front of him.

Her chest heaved, like she had trouble controlling her breath, and she unbuttoned her shirt slowly, before shrugging out of it. Underneath, she wore a pale blue bra in a silky material, though it couldn’t hide her stiff nipples peeking out. 

Slowly, she took hold of the hem of her skirt, lowering it over her hips, sliding it down her legs. The matching knickers had a darker, wet spot underneath, and  his eyes roamed over her: Small waist, round hips, and the smell … Oh, the smell of a horny, drenched witch just waiting for him to fuck her…

Severus slowly palmed his cock outside his trousers, watching her greedily. He hadn’t been able to think about anything else those past, couple of weeks, and now he had gotten more than he had ever hoped for…

“The rest,” he said hoarsely, and she removed her bra and knickers. Her tits were nice, firm and medium sized, with rosy, hard nipples just waiting for his mouth. “Closer,” he grunted, and she stepped forward to stand between his legs. He pulled her towards him, letting his mouth close around one nipple, tickling it with his tongue, and got a high-pitched, breathy moan out of her, and she arched her back into him. One hand slid up her thigh, feeling the smooth silkiness of her skin, before reaching her mound, feeling the wetness between her legs, and that hard nub begging for his touch. She bucked into him as his thumb swiped her clit, and she stuttered: “Oh gods, Headmaster, it feels so good…”

Keeping his thumb on her nub, he let his other fingers explore her cunt, sliding through the wet folds, finding her entrance. Using one finger to enter her, he pumped lightly up into her tight pussy, feeling his cock beg for mercy, for being released from his trousers. She twitched with a gasp, closing her eyes and throwing her head back, and he just knew, he couldn’t wait any longer.



Hermione felt so good, her passion growing, and she almost screamed in frustration when he suddenly removed his hands and rose from his chair. But her breath caught, as he took hold of her neck and bent her down on his desk, facedown. A muttered “ Divesto !” behind her, and then he kicked her legs apart. A silky, hard, throbbing member prodded between her nether lips, and then he pressed her shoulders down, slamming himself into her.

 "Ooooh!” she mewled, feeling the breath whoosh out of her, as she was filled to the brim with his big, hard cock.

“Take it,” he snarled in her ear, the roughness reminicincing of the lion mounting her, and she moaned in answer: “Yes, please…!”

 His thrusts were hard, hips slapping against her arse, and she almost whimpered in pleasure, though the edge of the desk was pressing painfully into her thighs.

 “You feel so tight, so good,” he grunted, “your wet, little pussy just waiting for me. Such a good little witch. My witch. My mate.

 Her belly clenched hard at his praise, almost sending her over the edge, but she managed to force her hand between her legs, touching and massaging her clit, and she gasped needily: “Harder!”

“I’ll give you harder!”, he groaned, setting a furious pace with his hips, giving her arse a stinging slap with his hand that made her moan in return. “Say you’re mine, girl, say it! Make your vow.”

“Yes,” she breathed, “Yes, I’m yours! I belong to you, I’m faithful to you, and you only!”

The wave of her magic washed out of her, her vow making her tingle all over, and she felt her belly throb hard.

The wave rose in her, she was climbing towards the edge, the pleasure growing, her belly clenching, her clit starting to flutter, and she was there, screaming out her release, just as the man above her roared out his orgasm, shooting his load into her trembling pussy walls, clamping down on her shoulder with his teeth, tearing the skin.  



Feeling his legs tremble, as he leaned over her, Severus muttered, feeling strangely satisfied, both man and lion: “You forgot the temporary part. Now, you’re mine, no time limit, little lioness. All mine.”

Basking in the afterglow, she nodded shakily. “I know.”   Stuttering, her voice was uncertain: “I… I… I think want to be. That’s why I didn’t set a time limit to the vow. You’re my mate. Aren’t you?”

Almost purring into her ear, he said, letting the lion take over: “Don’t worry, lioness. I’ll take care of you, and I’ll protect you. Now, you belong to me. Together, we’ll form a pride.”

She turned around to give him a brilliant smile, and his lion’s heart swelled. Granger belonged to him, and damned if she hadn’t snuck her way into his human heart as well.     

Giving her a smirk in return, he muttered: “We’ll see about those cubs soon, my feisty lioness.”