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An Accidental Affair Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 29008 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: Chea – lovely to hear from you. I’m really pleased that you are enjoying this one. I love that you are still prognosticating. As usual, I can’t give anything away but please continue to let me know your thoughts :)

Oracle – I’m glad the last chapter was suitably satisfying. ‘DaaaaaayOh! Daa-a-a-ay Oh. He most definitely can. Calypso canings are next.’ – Bahahaha. This cracked me up. I can so hear you singing it. ‘Punching yourself in the leg isn't nearly as nice as a Snape spanking’ – at least now you know :) ‘Actually it was a quick string of fuck fuck fuckity fuck’ – I used to say something very similar! I might bring it back – very effective (and thorough). ‘A satisfying day begins and ends with lubricious.’ – Indeed! ‘So many orifices so little time.’ – Hahah, I’m onto it!

Chapter 9 – Eine Zufällige Affäre

“That should come in handy for the next chapter,” said Hermione, pleased for an opportunity to, at last, deflect the attention from herself.

“What should?”

“That.”

Hermione gestured to the prominent bulge that was threatening to burst through Snape’s trousers. She’d been so deeply engrossed in his enthusiastic fingering that she hadn’t registered the fact that he’d managed to work up an erection that could easily have come from a meeting between his crotch and the gaze of a basilisk. And she wouldn’t have blamed it for looking, just quietly.

“It’s never been described as ‘handy’ before,” he said drily.

“No, but I bet you have,” she murmured, rolling off his lap and away from those exceedingly ‘handy’ hands.

“Do you want me to take care of that?” She couldn’t help grimacing at the copious wet patch that had soaked into his right trouser leg.

“No.”

“You’ll Scourgify will you?”

“No.”

Hermione didn’t quite know how to respond. She’d now managed to soil two sets of his clothing in two days. And he didn’t want her juices removed from the current lot.

Hmmm, creepy or sexy ‘Mione? Which is it? There was no doubt about it, she found everything about him absolutely fucking sexy. Shocking but sexy. He was, after all, her sour old Potions Professor—rigid, formal, impeccably impeccable in every way. And now he was fingering her pussy like a man possessed, throwing around the occasional ‘cunt’ and sitting with said fingers resting upon the thigh that she’d just soaked with the best orgasm of her life.

“I could take a shower before we do the next . . . thing.”

“Why would that be required?” He appraised her with his practised frown.

Crossing her arms in an unsuccessful attempt to shield herself from his gaze, she wondered how the honest truth, ‘because I want you to eat my pussy now’ was going to go down.

“Well, I need to establish some of the dynamics around a certain . . . position and it’s . . . it’s going to require the two of us to mutually . . . you know . . . exchange . . . um . . . oral . . . pleasures.”

He rubbed a finger in almost imperceptible but, she suspected, quite deliberate circles in the wet patch on his trousers. “You’re concerned about me performing cunnilingus on you post-orgasm?”

He made it sound so neat and tidy. It was far from fucking neat and tidy. His trousers and her sopping snatch could attest to that.

She couldn’t even reply. The admission was beyond embarrassing. But watching him sitting there, his finger rotating gently, his eyebrow slightly arched, she was more concerned by the realisation that what she really wanted was to crawl back onto his lap and snog him. It was such a bizarre and overwhelming compulsion that she had to turn away before he read it on her face, or perhaps in her mind—although she hadn’t sensed him resorting to that yet. No doubt she was as easy to read as a smutty book without it anyway.

“I just thought you might have a personal preference,” she muttered.

“I do.” His voice stopped her. “Shall we proceed?”

Hermione closed her eyes. He was telling her that he preferred her pussy as it was. Unable to decide whether she should be mortified, relieved or completely turned on, she thought she’d go for all three at once—just to fuck with her poor bewildered brain a little more.

She half turned back to him, not wanting to meet his eyes. “If you’re ready. And you don’t need something to . . . you know . . . eat or drink . . . like a snack before you . . .”

“Before I . . . what?” She hadn’t seen him move but he was suddenly directly behind her, his warm breath on the back of her neck.

Oh, shit! She was beginning to understand what he’d meant by the ‘sustained solicitations of a serpent’ line. She was finding him a maddening combination of enigmatic irresistibility and subtle inducement, a blend of resistance and insistence—the simultaneous pull and push of which were extremely difficult to counter.

He was clearly far more mischievous than she would have ever imagined; his writing was meltingly sensual but, honestly, the most recent experience with him had been so fucking erotic she was almost afraid of what she would discover about him in their next liaison. Even his presence she was finding more than a little intoxicating—and she was pretty confident that the detox potions weren’t going to be of any help in that department. If anything, they seemed to be making things worse.

He wasn't touching her, but Hermione could feel the presence of his cock behind her, like a shadow cast against her bare buttocks. Was there a particularly intense heat radiating from it or had she really acquired an extra sense post detox? She felt glued to the spot, unsure of how to proceed. His finger fucking had been beyond amazing. But the way he’d looked at her. His desire to watch her face rather than her pussy throughout made her wonder if he was, in fact, a sensualist at his core. Could he even like her? Admittedly she had belittled and insulted him, called him a cunt several times and vomited all over him. But still, it might be a slow week for him. Clearly he wasn’t short on action. She also knew him to be compassionate. Maybe he felt sorry for her? She’d never heard of a sympathy hard-on before but it was possible.

Taking a deep breath she slowly moved her hand back to where she sensed he was, her fingers trailing over the wool of his trousers until she felt the hard contours of his cock. This time he didn’t pull away. As her fingertips brushed over the rigid warmth she discovered there, she heard a low growl in her ear and her hair instantly prickled. Jaw dropping slightly in an effort to draw in enough breath to stay upright, she continued her journey, stretching her fingers higher until she skirted the bold line of his head and felt him grunt into the skin behind her ear.

Shivering with a mixture of electrostatic attraction and fearful anticipation, she finally allowed her hand to close around the impressive girth of his shaft, to feel it pulsing in her hand. Almost expecting to experience his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her neck, the final stage of his encroachment, she was instead plundered again by his voice—ghosting gently across her temple.

“Miss Granger, I have agreed to your terms. Kindly allow me to . . . satisfy . . . those requirements.”

She could very much imagine herself leading him by the cock to her bedroom but it seemed a little disrespectful under the circumstances so she did as he asked, but not before gratuitously sliding her hand down his entire length, just to get a sense of his dimensions.

Before she could take another step he had spun her around and crushed her into his chest, one arm pinned behind her back.

“Do you think it wise to tease at this point in the proceedings?” The tip of his nose was only millimetres from the side of her own and when he tilted his head slightly, it trailed a smooth line along her ridge. She had probably been a bit naughty. After all, she hadn’t asked permission to touch in the first place—although he did seem to respond in the positive. She wondered if this dominance display was all part of the performance or if he was genuinely miffed. Either way it would have been panty-wetting if she’d been wearing any. Instead it was simply something else he was going to have to deal with when he got down her end.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” she breathed. “I just wanted to get a sense of . . . proportions for my writing.”

“I believe you’ll have more than sufficient opportunity to . . . sample . . . my proportions all . . . too . . . soon.”

There was little she could say to that. And the reality was that she couldn’t talk even if she’d wanted to as the tip of his nose had continued across her cheek to her temple and was now trailing down her jawline. Her head tilted to allow him access and she wondered whether, if she moved quickly enough, she might even be able to capture his lips which were now hovering at the pulsing juncture with her throat.

However, before she could make her move, he suddenly released her. Thankfully the door frame was close enough for her to latch onto before her legs collapsed. When she looked up at him, he seemed so much bigger than she remembered. His hair was no longer flat, their actions had left it tousled, almost mane-like. He was without his coat but his lean strength was visible through the tailored material of his shirt and his black eyes were so deeply penetrating, almost predatory that she felt like she was luring a panther into her modest bedroom—imagining herself emerging a dishevelled mess like she’d just indulged in a decidedly infelicitous foursome with Fluffy the three headed dog.

As she retreated slowly, backing into her room, he advanced; she definitely felt like she was being hunted. What had started off as simply an opportunity to discover how willing he was to engage with her further, was rapidly becoming a cat and mouse game that was both exhilarating and frightening. She suspected he’d been right all along. She had bluff Gryffindor courage on her side but he was in an entirely different league when it came to such matters. Clearly she could turn him on, she’d done that multiple times, but what he chose to do subsequently was becoming a jaw-dropping journey of discovery, and she suspected that after the impending engagement she might require some sort of jaw relocating incantation—not the least from trying to provide some oral accommodation for a cock the size of the one currently approaching like a jouster’s lance.

“I think we’ve had enough play, Miss Granger,” he growled suddenly. With a neat flick of his wrist, he wandlessly removed her shirt and then her bra, leaving her completely naked, hands twitching at the need to cover something but knowing it was ultimately useless.

Then he locked his eyes on hers, tilting his head backward to peer down his nose at her before bringing his fingers to the top button of his shirt. He was slowly undressing himself in front of her. Watching her response. And now that she was naked, fully exposed, there was nothing she could hide from him. It was so agonisingly revealing but also so disconcertingly carnal that it made her head spin. And as he exposed a long swathe of supple skin from his chest down to his abdomen, one tight nipple breathing in the shadow of his open shirt, she felt her own nipples harden in response and his eyes were there, all over her, watching every pore for evidence of arousal. In reality she could just have blurted out the words that were screaming through her head, ‘Yes, I think you’re totally fucking hot and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me, in whatever position you want, for as long as you want—acknowledging that I continue to retain all of my feminist principles of course.’

But he seemed far more interested in her non-verbal communication. And when he finally released the buttons on his trousers and dropped them to reveal the ladle of all ladles, the embarrassingly wanton moan that escaped her lips seemed to be the final evidence he needed. Stepping out of his trousers, he kicked his boots off and leaned his hard body into her until she collapsed onto her bed under him.

“So where do you want me?” he rumbled, his warm breath trickling across her heaving chest.

Oh fuck. She closed her eyes. Everywhere, you sexy bastard. Everywhere.
- 9
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- 11
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An Accidental Affair *Complete*

An Accidental Affair Complete