Disclaimer:- I neither own nor earn anything from this story, anything you recognise belongs to JK Rowling and associates.


A/N:- This little story is complete in one chapter, and is an extremely fluffy and rather naughty little plot bunny that just wouldn't go away, it beat me over the head until I wrote it. It is very fanciful and so AU it constitutes pure fantasy. Even though it may appear to the contrary at the beginning, this is not there is absolutely NO Hermione/Centaur sex. However, there is an encounter with an amorous plant as the title suggests. To remain true to this sites M rating, I have abridged this little tale for posting here. There is an MA version posted on AO3, my pen name there being Oneredshoe if anyone's interested. So onward, dear readers, mature readers only please, I hope you enjoy…


The Advantages of Amorous Plants in Curse Breaking

Study of Ancient Runes had always been one of Hermione Granger's favourite subjects. So she jumped at the chance when Professor Bathsheda Babbling offered to apprentice her after her N.E.W.T. year. However, once she was trained, the reclusive old professor—who had apparently been awaiting an opportunity-promptly retired and left Hogwarts. Perhaps, if the studious young woman thought about exactly how isolated she would be as time marched on teaching the intricate, and generally difficult subject, she may not have signed her contract so easily. But the deed was done and there was no use complaining about it, she still had two more years to go.

Her friends moved on, married and started families. Being shut away at the school for ten months of the year, did not facilitate meeting wizards, or anyone else for that matter. Besides this, there had only ever been one wizard who had captivated her attention in that way, whom she considered her intellectual equal. She had worked with him at the end of the war, and they were heading towards being friends as they entered the Final Battle, but he had disappeared, and was presumed dead.

She did not begrudge everyone else their happiness, and she slowly got used to the isolation of the Scottish boarding school. Although, by the time her third year of teaching was approaching, she was starting to go a little stir crazy. Hermione wasn't the only young professor, but she was the only one who didn't have a partner.

The Gryffindor witch now suspected she partly knew why the object of her before mentioned fascination had been so disagreeable and surly. Apart from being ruled by two self important, arrogant master's –both of whom he was so much better then—the fact was, he probably just needed a good fuck. The longer she stayed here without sex, the more she sympathised with him.

Hermione had discovered, after the war, and before she'd locked herself away here like a nun, that sex was indeed wonderful, and she had partaken of its joys liberally. She now rued her amorous adventures, because she also found, in her case anyway, that sex was quite addictive, and the lack there of was easy able to unsettle her supposed more dominant intellectual side.

Grimacing as she thought about it. She knew she was getting desperate, because even Professor Flitwick was starting to look good, she had caught herself checking out the front of his trousers one day last week, and that—no matter how desperate she was—was never going to happen.

Although, the whole isolation and lack of a partnered sex life had made her develop a cool exterior to keep her emotions in check, while alone she had a whole other secret life happening. This duel life was made easier, because during her two year apprenticeship, Hermione had taken on many of the habits of her withdrawn mistress, and now apart from her expected attendances in the Great Hall, staff meetings and her patrol duties, she chose not to interact with the school at large very much at all.


Never having ever had a great deal of time for Divination as either a subject or as some believed; an art form. Hermione had not thought much on it when Trelawney finally decided to visit her sister in Brighton permanently. She didn't even take a great deal of notice when dapper little Flitwick fussed about importantly for weeks on end creating a forest on the ground floor. Nor had she heard the giggles and gossip when the new Divination teacher had arrived a few weeks shy of the summer holidays, she had merely continued about her business. Most of the students who took her subject, were the boring studious types like she had been, with the same opinion of Divination, so she was completely out of the loop.

Hermione did know he was a centaur, but hadn't even laid eyes on him as it was impractical for him to attend meals in the Great Hall. Although she had caught a glimpse of a sleek black horses hindquarters down by the lake, just on sunset about one week after he'd arrived.


With the approach of the warmer weather, Hermione had taken to leaving her balcony doors open at night. Tonight, the highland breezes wafted around her bedroom as she reclined in her sheer, silky gown reading her book. It was the very stroke of midnight when she heard it. A lyre being strummed and someone singing, the voice was so clear and pure, and she immediately found herself mesmerised by it. The sound of the rich baritone rose to her balcony doors from directly below, making her quiver as only one other voice ever had.

The professor may have opened her doors to the night, but she almost never went out onto the balcony. Tonight however, she quickly abandoned her book for the night air. What she found under her very nose was a walled garden which appeared to have grown out of the classroom far below.

Hermione could see a luscious looking vine steadily climbing towards her up the building from the same location, and this surprised her, why had she never noticed this before? Panning around further, reclining on a mossy knoll, the Gryffindor witch saw the glossy ebony hindquarters of the Divination professor. His front half was obscured by a great oak tree that graced the centre of the garden, the top of which was level with her third floor balcony.

Something suddenly fell into place in her mind. Oh, the new Divination professor, could he be the one singing, it was very beautiful. It seemed to call to her… pull at her somehow. If only she could see?

Part of the reason Hermione didn't often ventured onto her balcony, was the height factor. It was the same reason she was wary about flying, she had an unreasonable fear of heights. Tonight though, she found herself leaning over the edge totally absorbed by the song, and desperate to see the singer.

Listening to the music, her longing for a man to sate her needs started to overpower her. Hermione also found that her unresolved tensions were growing exponentially with the sound of the song. Her wand was never far from her side, even when she was naked, or only wore one of her delicate negligees to cover herself, as she did tonight. She transfigured a deep and comfortable bed from the little lounge on balcony. Reclining back against pillows she conjured from leaves, she undid the ribbon, the only closure on the flimsy garment that she wore, and lightly ran her hands over her naked flesh. The sweet scent of honeysuckle growing around the garden wall filled her head, as the music caressed her senses.

Sighing, her fingers caressed her quickly hardening nipples, and knowing she could be seen, she opened her legs wide to expose her sex to the cool night air. It felt wonderful; she positioned herself so the fickle evening breeze swirled teasingly onto her heated pussy, gently tugging at the trimmed dark curls that were already moist with her juices. She continued to tug and twist her erect nipples, and listening to the strains wafting up from below, she set about satisfying herself.

As much as she wanted a man, she had to make do. Moaning, she buried two fingers into herself, the song now became almost unbearably beautiful as her two… then three fingers pistoned in and out. Her legs shook and her chest heaved, then a moaning cry of completion left her lips. This was something that didn't happen normally; she usually needed more stimulus than that to get herself off. It must be the song, her mind instantly thought.

She fell asleep where she lay that evening, completely exposed to the night, her legs relaxed but still spread, and fingers still lazily teasing herself through her aftershocks. She didn't notice the song relaxing after her climax; she just let it lull her to sleep. Neither did she see the naked man who had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere in the majestic oak tree that overlooked her balcony. Her dreams that night contained echoes of the song and fleeting glimpses of raven hair through leaves coupled with piercing coal-black eyes.

The singer of the song scrambled into the tree, his feet feeling like foreign lumps of flesh on the ends of his lithe legs as he attempted to see onto the balcony. He just knew that the source of his sudden, and wonderful, freedom resided there.

His hands stroked his proudly erect manhood, and he burned to bury himself inside the witch whose delicious groans and sighs of pleasure had combined with his song and allowed him to revert to his human form. This was the first time he'd been freed, and he instantly realised that the witch on the balcony was somehow responsible. His need for resolution surged and he fisted himself almost brutally, striving towards something he thought he'd never experience again. He came with a shout, spraying the leaves in front of him.

Sitting back in the fork of the tree, the wizard wondered how long his freedom would be granted to him. He needed a wand, and looking down at himself, some clothes. It had been almost six and a half years since the battle. When he was imprisoned in his curse form, he still had a conscious knowledge of himself, but he was unable to speak of it. He felt no such compulsion at the moment though, so he realised another thing, when he was in his human body he could speak and act as himself.

How he had lived for the past years—and especially these past few weeks-had above everything else he'd suffered, put his life into perspective for him, and he realised that serving two masters and all that had happened in his life before hand, had actually been easy. There was no horror in his past that even came close to the revulsion he felt teaching disgusting adolescents Divination. However, it had allowed him entrance into the school and a chance to undo the wretched curse he was suffering from. He curled his lip, thinking that if he could manage to pull this off, he would be truly invincible.

Deciding he should remove himself from the tree, in case he changed back. He thought about the facts as he understood them. The song, which he had only been driven to sing for the first time tonight, was obviously the catalyst when combined with the pleasured sound of a witch, or even just the proximity of a witch who cared about him. Now that would be a rare species, he thought. I wonder who it is?

Had the curse been triggered to release only under certain circumstances that the curser thought very unlikely to happen? Knowing the smug and superior attitude of the wizard who had cursed him, he suspected this to be true, even if he also assumed he'd done it to hide him until later. Stupid bastard, fancy getting himself killed.

Now back on the ground, the raven-haired wizard gazed up at the balcony. Who lives there? Think man; think where you remember all the witches here lived. Those are the quarters of professor who teaches The Study of Ancient Runes, now when you arrived you didn't meet her. He shuddered, Oh Merlin, I hope it's not still old Babbling.


It was now the summer holidays, and there were no students to bother about, so tonight Hermione had indulged in a long fragrant bath, and when she'd finished she had clothed herself in another negligee and retrieved her vibrator from her bedside drawer for what was becoming her habit, another night of solo pleasure on her balcony to her singer's beautiful accompaniment.

Every night, since that first night almost two weeks ago, the song had been evolving and changing. Hermione had asked Minerva who the new Divination professor was, as he seemed to be as reclusive as Trelawney had been.

She found out that the teacher was someone Firenze had recommended. Another centaur, who had recently arrived in their forest community, seemingly from nowhere. Firenze said he was every bit the seer that he was, and he had personally taught him his craft. However, Bane being who he was had not accepted the new arrival into the community and had insisted he be cast out because there was something strange about him.

Minerva went on to tell her that the palomino centaur had been only too happy to allow the new comer to come to the school in his place to teach when Sybil retired.

Over the last week, the vine from below had reached her balcony and now spilled over the edges and up to twine around the wrought iron supports. It was obviously a magical vine, and to be certain she wasn't going to be strangled in her sleep, Hermione had researched it.

What she found startled and aroused her curiosity in equal amounts. It was a variety from the same family as Devils Snare and although it tolerated sunlight, it only actively grew at night. The book described it as affectionate not sinister like its cousin, and she had actually already noted its fondness for stroking her arm or cheek. This was what had sent her to the library in the first place.

So now, as she stood listening to the song, she shivered when a tender shoot slithered across and caressed her upper arm. The cool touch felt good, it reminded her that she was seldom touched at all, so she allowed it to keep stroking her. Could the plant actually know what it was doing?

Then she noticed that the actions of the plant coordinated with the lyrical rise and fall of the exquisite singing. She shivered as the fronds tenderly wrapped around her, caressing her arms and neck. However, the moment she sighed longingly, and felt herself relaxing into the touch completely, she backed away. Hermione was surprised when the soft tendrils instantly relinquished their hold on her, then without warning the singing stopped and the vine stilled completely, it was almost as if it was listening.

In the silence she heard movement below, her head dipped over the edge of the balcony in curiosity. In the moonlight, she saw an agile shadow slip into the shelter of the tree's protection. It was a distinctly human shadow, and glancing at the knoll where centaur normally sat, there was nothing.

A stray breeze covered the slight tremor and the rustling of the oak tree as someone climbed it. The man in the tree watched Hermione start to turn away. His face registering his surprise, he could finally see her. Of course it would be her, it made sense to him that she would be the one to hear his song. She was the one who could break the curse, he just knew she would do him some good, but he'd never been able to fathom how.

As he watched her silhouette turning with the light spilling from her study doorway behind her, he saw an utter angel with a halo of chestnut curls floating around her head in the breeze. The georgette material of her garment hid nothing from him. He felt his unhindered manhood coming alive as he drank in the erect dusky tips of her breasts brushing against their covering, and the hint of darker curls at the apex of her thighs. A soft sigh left his throat, it may have sounded almost silent to him, but the woman before him stilled, and her wand was in her hand.

"Who's there?" she demanded. Hermione was uncertain she had actually heard anything, but bitter experience had taught her not to take chances. Silence greeted her, and Hermione shook her head. "Must have been the wind," she muttered, and leaving the doors open, she finished wandering inside. Erecting her wards, she left the breeze to lick at the curtains and went to bed.


Sleep came easily. However, her dreams were filled with erotic ramblings. In her dream, the vine from the balcony entered her bedroom and was caressing her, she heard herself groan in her sleep when the very tip of a feather like tendril flicked delicately… and then she was pulling out of the dream, remembering the vague impression of a raven-haired man. She gasped, suddenly, wide awake.

It was almost dawn, and she throbbed with unresolved tension. Still gasping for air, she closed her eyes tightly, willing the tears she felt stinging them not to fall. It was at that moment, that the professor wondered if she'd done the right things taking this course, locking herself away from society. She still refused to acknowledge exactly how lonely she was. She rose and took a cold shower, but even this didn't kill the feeling of want surging through her.


The frustrated professor fought her arousal all day. She even forced herself to go down to the Great Hall for dinner, in an attempt to stay off her need for resolution. It was a little after eleven when she returned, having spent time with Minerva, Poppy and Pomona. These three witches had solved the problem of isolation, with each other. It was something to consider, but Hermione just didn't lean that way, she liked men.

After her bath, where she had tried unsuccessfully to sate her need, Hermione decided that some fresh air would do her good. The evening breeze on the balcony was exquisite. There was dew on the vine, and it was now adorned with flower buds. She stroked it, glancing around at its almost rampant nightly growth pattern. "I wish I had someone of my own," she murmured softly.

As if in answer, soft tendrils gently caressed her, and then she heard the song start. She was wearing a flimsy night dress tonight and was surprised when she felt it being gently lifted over her head. Once naked, the vine encouraged her to the bed she had transfigured earlier. She heard the song still urging her forward, and she was eager to see what was going to happen, and almost helpless to fight it.

The tendrils continued to caress her skin, just like in her dream. From her reclining position she watched the deliciously cold, tender shoots wrap around her nipples, which were already erect and begging for attention. They were pulsing and squeezing, sending shocks of pleasure directly to that ball of tension in her belly. She watched as more fronds joined the one already teasing her so expertly. Backward and forward in feather light touches.

Then Hermione watched the amorous tendrils climbing her legs, holding her thighs open and teasing her folds with the same touch. The tendril seemed to grow fingers exposing the slick rosy folds. She shuddered and bucked her hips when next, a flower bud started flicking back and forth across her clit and a twisting but supple stem slid inside her. This was when her head went back, her eyes closed and her back arched. "Oh my word, that's good," she moaned.

She was literally dripping desire, and so caught up in the ministrations of the plant that she missed the song abruptly stopping, and even though she could feel the plant's movement on, in and around her, she was too absorbed by the delight she was feeling, to notice she had been carried by it, to a platform type cradle it had built in the oak tree.

The vine deposited her gently onto a soft bed of leaves, just as the wizard arrived in the tree. Her nectar was running through the leaves of the vine that was now plastered to her pussy, and this seemed to encourage it. Hermione was in seventh heaven, she had never experienced anything like this. The feel of the tendrils drawing in and out of her was lovely, she was transfixed.

That was when she heard a wicked chuckle, as boneless as she was under the ministrations of the plant, her eyes vaguely came open. She merely smiled languidly at the tall raven-haired wizard who stood before her, his naked form sublime, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the actions of the plant. "This has to be a dream, it's so perfect," she moaned. Her eyes sought his and they locked as she spoke. "Take me, Severus," she whispered huskily.

He settled onto the bed between her legs. "You are so beautiful," he crooned to her. "You have freed me." The vine instantly drew back and his mouth with on her. Hermione immediately keened and screamed her release.

Surging up, they both moaned as he buried his shaft deeply, and his mouth was on hers, kissing her just as intensely. "This isn't a dream, Hermione. This is real," he declared between kisses, his cock thrusting strongly. "Say you're mine," he demanded hotly.

"Ohhhh, yes…" she could feel herself tottering on the edge again. "I think I always was," she managed to mutter, before her mouth claimed his once more.

Tearing his mouth away so he could speak, Severus increased the power of his thrusts. "Say it, witch. Scream it to the night, break the curse."

Finally her pleasure doped brain caught on to what he meant. There was magic at play here, he needed her to confirm she was his so it would work. Her hands came up to his cheeks, as her face twisted in tortured pleasure while he continued to stroke into her. "I am yours," she kissed him roughly, carried away by the strength of their union. "Always… I love you, Severus Snape." She saw relief flood his face, he let go, and together they yelled their pleasure to the moon and sky.


Firenze was standing on the edge of the forest, and seeing the echo of a black centaur rising from the oak tree into the night sky, he knew the curse had been lifted. Tomorrow he would go to the school to replace the missing Divination professor, and return the wizard's wand to him. He had seen what had happened the night of the battle, which is why he had continued to protect the cursed wizard once his original protector has fallen.

Back in the tree, Severus finally relaxed as Hermione's declaration rang true in his ears, and he felt the remnants of his affliction leave him. "I love you also," he mumbled tiredly into her ear, and they fell into an exhausted sleep.


The next morning Hermione awoke in her bed. There was the most exquisite perfume in the room, however when she went to roll over to investigate she found she was being held and there was warmth at her back. Glancing down she saw a pale but very male arm, it was dusted with raven hair, and the graceful fingers were firming cradling one of her breasts. She sighed, and immediately felt a large nose nuzzling her neck. "Good morning, love," she said, her voice still slightly tainted with sleep. Hearing a snicker in reply, Hermione wiggled her bottom further into the hard evidence of his arousal. "Care to make me scream again before we do anything else."

"Oh yes, indeed," he purred, and let her turn in his arms. "How about we let our friend here assist in that?" Severus flourished an arm around her bed, there was beautiful sweet smelling crimson flowers hanging in bunches from the vine which was curled around her four-poster bed.

"Ohhh Severus, that so deliciously dirty," Hermione moaned, already shivering in pleasure. She rolled onto her back, and allowed the plant to help him with his suggestion.

After their second round of him taking her from behind, while the helpful plant caressed and fondled them, they decided round three could wait until later. They needed to find him some clothes and invite Minerva in for the shock of her life.


Regardless of their intent, the pair of new lovers had given in to round three in the shower, with Hermione's back up against the wall, and her legs around his waist as he thrust into her. They were behaving now though, fully dressed and eating breakfast, while they waited for Minerva to arrive.

Hermione smiled, examining Severus' appearance. His hair was longer, and he'd secured it with a leather lace. She had given him some of her clothes and loaned him her wand to transfigure them to his taste. She was surprised when he walked out of the bedroom in jeans and a short sleeved dark blue button down shirt. He kissed her as she pushed her wand into the messy bun on the top of her head, and casually sat down to eat.

As it turned out, Minerva wasn't half as surprised as they had expected when she'd arrived. It was a cross between a gasp and a sob that escaped her as she drew him into a tight hug. "Forgive me," was all she said.

When he finally prised her off him and assured her he'd had to have people believe he really was a Death Eater, she settled down. Hermione poured her a cup of tea, and they made her comfortable.

Finally, once she'd settled down again, Minerva handed him his wand, and explained that she had met Firenze in the entrance hall after breakfast. "He knew all along that the black centaur was actually you, he saw Lucius curse you before he himself fell."

Severus nodded, "I did suspect he'd done it to save me." He sighed, "I'm so happy to be myself again." He picked up Hermione's hand, "Let me state that I am terribly grateful to Firenze for helping me, but I will most definitely curse the next person to utters the word Divination within my hearing." They both chuckled and sat there absorbed in each other.

Finally Minerva cleared her throat. "So what are you going to do?" She took in the unspoken idea he was conveying to Hermione, but ignored it and said, "I haven't found a DADA professor for next year yet."

Severus' smile turned into a grin, and Hermione said, "Well I think you have now."

The raven-haired wizard laughed, "Yes, Minerva," his thumb ghosted over Hermione's knuckles. "As long as we're together."

It was decided that Hogwarts most feared professor's stint as Divination teacher would remain a secret between the four persons who knew about it. Minerva would explain the disappearance of one Divination teacher and the reappearance of another to the rest of the school population poetically as the work of fate. As for the reappearance of one Severus Snape, she cackled mischievously. "How about we make that a surprise, for the start of term?"

The Headmistress rose, "I'm certain you two can occupy yourselves here until the end of summer." Minerva said as she made for the door. She sighed happily as she left, hearing the deep baritone growl of an amorous wizard and the tinkling laughter of a very happy witch.

No one noticed the naughty vine drawing itself up from the ground floor garden, only to replant itself in a huge pot on their balcony, where it happily grew, having everything it needed, as it twined around their bed.