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An Accidental Affair Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 29007 -:- 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
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: It was so lovely to hear from a bunch of you this time round. Please keep the comments/feedback coming. It really motivates me to pull out my laptop after a long day at work :)
Oracle – ‘I could give you some magical new feedback’ – your feedback is always magical, you know how much I appreciate it. Thanks for the corrections too for this chapter. ‘I've never had a sympathy wetty’ – can you really say that unequivocally? ‘Martha Stewart is missing out on a cash gold mine’ – bahahahah! ‘And now you've left us with a sexual cliffhanger’ – I didn’t really think of it like that but that’s excellent.
Dezzu – Hahah! More to come!
Aurora Lancy – Dominant Snape is becoming one of my favourites too. Hermione might be smart but emotionally she isn’t all that. I’m glad you like the chapter naming. It’s tricky coming up with something different each time so I find the process interesting too :)
SnapesOnlyOne – ‘This is pretty much how I envisioned him’ – I loved that you had the same vision of him as I did in this one. Update on the way. In fact, now.
Rumpelyssa – Hahah! I loved you not being able to breathe. Not that I want to be responsible for a fainting attack of course but it means you’re identifying with the characters closely which is a good thing :)

Chapter 11 – Accidental Afera An
Hermione had to stop herself mid-swoon and remember that it was her request for sex position assistance that had precipitated her current predicament—heaving like a sea anemone beneath the smooth planes of his naked torso. She wanted to touch him but even that seemed a little forward so she took the slightly more restrained approach of clutching the quilt in a death grip, as though afraid that she might be suddenly sucked into the depths of the eyes that were probing her expectantly.
“Um, I want you to . . . um . . . ” She began gesticulating inanely with her hands, still clutching at the quilt between each feeble wave. Taking a deep breath, she started again, “You know how you’re quite tall and I’m . . . um . . . less . . . you know . . . tall. Well I just . . . I was wondering how it would work if . . . if we . . . were in a certain position and we wanted to . . . um . . . give each other . . . oral . . . stimulation. I thought we could just . . . you know . . . look at the . . . dynamics . . . that would . . . would . . . enable such an activity to be . . . um . . . successfully . . . enacted.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes and so found herself focusing on the conspicuous scar at his neck. It had no doubt been intensively treated at the time but was still clearly visible. There were others too—a large one scoring his shoulder and a pair puncturing his chest. She’d been there when it’d happened. Had he remembered? Did he know that they’d tried to help him? She actually hoped he didn’t remember as in the end they’d left him, assuming he was dead. It was yet another moment she wasn’t proud of—just another to add to the collection.
When her eyes finally returned to his, he was frowning. Had he read her mind? She desperately hoped he hadn’t. She didn’t want to go there, not now—she’d managed for years to avoid that murky mire where all of her worst memories festered like infected sores—the war, her parents, his near death along with many other actual deaths—she’d buried all of them and wasn’t in the mood for some sort of fetid exhumation.
It was the first time Hermione’d thought of liquor since drinking the detoxification potion. She didn’t crave it but it was her psychological crutch as much as anything. Please don’t, she willed him, knotting the quilt in her fists.
“I believe such a position can be accommodated,” he murmured. But something in his eyes told her he was giving her an out, letting her go—allowing her to breathe. Which she did with sudden relief as he lifted her with a single arm and flipped her over onto his chest before pushing backwards onto the stack of pillows at her bedhead. Laying with her naked breasts pressed against him, fingers splayed across his collar bones, she wondered if he actually did want her to kiss him. It would only be a natural consequence of gravity after all. She could so easily fall into those soft lips. And perhaps simultaneously fall out of her miserable life. Or was it too much to expect—too great a burden to place on another? Especially someone with a past like his?
“Do you plan to continue in absentia?” he asked, his deep voice vibrating through her chest.
“Sorry?”
“You keep drifting away.”
She sighed down at him. He could see everything. “Can you stop me drifting away?”
He gazed at her for a long time and as she rose and fell with each deep breath, listing along on his warm waves, she wondered just how wise it was to invite him to firmly anchor her in the present.
“I believe I can provide a . . . compelling . . . alternative.”
She was surprised at how his dramatic pauses, which had once pissed her off, now turned her on—seriously.
“Do it,” she breathed.
Famous. Last. Words.
Hermione couldn’t quite work out how it all happened but she was suddenly moaning with what felt like his thumb pressing against the entrance to her anus and his tongue quivering at the apex of her labia. She was eye to eye with the most compelling cock she’d ever encountered but was incapable of doing anything beyond grasping the base of his shaft before moaning into it like bad karaoke.
Although he wasn’t touching any of the parts that were throbbing with need, his stimulation at the extremes of her pussy seemed to intensify the sensory void between, leaving it positively aching. As his thumb continued to pulse against her tight ring of muscle, his tongue flicked closer and closer to the head of her clitoris without quite touching it.
Feeling her face flushing with a mixture of effort and need, Hermione tried to focus on the task at hand or, more precisely, in hand. She would have dearly liked to indulge in some exquisite teasing of her own but was so distracted by what was happening beneath her swaying backside that all she could execute were a few slow pumps of the velvety skin encasing his smoking hot rod. As she considered the contrast between her own feeble inroads into stimulating him and the soft lips and tongue that were now closing over her howling clitoris and whipping it like a naughty bottom, she dispiritedly realised that there seemed to be a mismatch in abilities. She sighed into the milky skin of his abdomen, dearly hoping that this was going to one of those ‘hare and tortoise’ type situations where she, the less-than-titillating tortoise, would come home strongly. Speaking of coming strongly, she realised with even greater dismay that she wasn’t far off—at all.
Fuck. This was embarrassing! She hadn’t even managed to get her mouth near him and already she could feel the tension winding up deep inside her. Perhaps if she asked him to slow down. Or kept him away from her—
“Uuuhhhhh,” she moaned, prostrating herself at the base of his cock which she clutched like a ceremonial staff; two of his fingers had lunged into her channel and started pumping in time with the mounting pressure between her cheeks.
“Professor?” she gasped. “I don’t think I can . . . “
“Severus.” His voice was thick around her clitoris.
“Uh . . . Severus.” She winced. It sounded awkward but perhaps it was reasonable to assume that first name terms are appropriate when his face was buried in her pussy.
“Severus . . . I think I’m going to . . . uhhhhh . . . I’m going to . . . come.” She groaned out the last word as he pushed a third finger into her channel.
“I’m aware,” he responded, without skipping a beat against her throbbing nub.
Of course he was. Why the fuck wouldn’t he be? Her whole writhing form was a study in out-of-control, pre-orgasmic, lasciviousness.
Pressing her forehead against his clenching pelvis she panted, “I’m sorry,” before she couldn’t hold back any longer, keening out her release as her pussy exploded.
He continued to lick and suck at her clitoris as his fingers thrust against the powerful waves coursing through her shuddering channel. Her pussy bucked against his face, smearing him liberally with juices which she could hear him consuming in deep gulps. Panting out high-pitched wheezes with each convulsion, she continued until her face had been reduced to a sweaty tumbleweed rocking against his skin. She had absolutely no idea how to explain what had just happened but continued to cling doggedly onto his cock in an attempt to demonstrate her good intentions.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
“Why?”
“I . . . I wanted to do more. I just couldn’t . . . “
“It’s not necessary to apologise. That was simply a warm up.” His voice rose from behind her. “I’ll continue until you’re finished.”
Merlin’s fucking arsehole! Finished? Did he mean dead?
Swallowing against the dryness in her parched throat, she tipped the head of his cock toward her mouth. Watching it approach like a nuclear warhead, she suddenly felt consumed with a sense of unfairness. She wasn’t actually that bad at this kind of thing. She’d blown plenty of guys quite successfully. And she didn’t mind a challenge. But her past experiences were all with normal cocks on normal men, not a cock like this on a man like this. It suddenly seemed as powerful and potentially insurmountable as she had known him to be as a wizard. Was that always the case? Did a wizard’s cock always emulate their wizarding prowess? It certainly did with Ron—he wasn’t a great wizard, and his cock . . . well, some of his ex-girlfriends had been disappointed enough to refer to him as ‘Measly Weasley.’ Maybe Snape was just one out of the box. Actually, correction, he was one into the box—very, much, so . . . Gods!
His tongue was already inside her, lapping up the walls of her engorged channel. If she’d thought she might enjoy a moment of reprieve, a latent period in which her pussy could sit dazed, unwilling to engage, the answer was ‘No’. That was definitely not the case. Her pussy seemed just as eager as the last two times to open itself up to another good plundering. It really wasn’t a good start for the tortoise.
She sighed against the smooth curve of his head. Her main problem with his cock was that it felt too good for her. Like it had been spoiled throughout its life by a richness of exotic experiences and now here it was with some heaving tumbleweed being treated to an ensemble of feeble groping manoeuvres. Still, she couldn’t afford to be intimidated. It wouldn’t be fair. But she was definitely going to be manipulating the protagonists in her chapter to reflect a more balanced performance.
Taking a deep breath she opened her mouth and lowered her lips over him. She welcomed his soft fleshy warmth against her tongue but only managed to get a comparatively small way down his considerable length before she felt herself being stretched. Apart from casting some sort of shrinking incantation, which she would absolutely not be doing, it would be too utterly disrespectful to a cock like this, she had no choice but to use her hands, probably both of them, to make up the shortfall.
Resting her elbows on either side of him, she brought her hands together on his shaft before starting to suck gently on him. She’d only just established a rhythm, her hands sliding up and down as she bobbed her head over him when she felt both of his thumbs at her opening, pulling it apart so his tongue could delve inside, probing even deeper than before.
“Mmmmm,” she buzzed around his cock and he groaned into her pussy in response, his hips lifting off the bed.
Well that was something at least. Come on ‘Mione. You can do this!
Pulling off him with a wet ‘pop’, she slid her lips down to the base and began licking him, swiping her tongue over his silky finish and taking heart from the way his cock bobbed and jerked in response. And when she met the trickle of pre-cum coursing down the taut ridge of his head, scooping it up with the tip of her tongue, she breathed a sigh of relief; she was definitely making progress.
But unfortunately that was as far as she got.
He suddenly plunged two fingers into her pussy, sliding them up beside his tongue. It was such a rapid and emphatic intrusion that she was forced to stop, propping her forehead against her wrists, groaning deeply. She could hear his fingers sloshing around in the juice of two orgasms, a third enthusiastic arousal and copious amounts of his saliva. But as suddenly as they’d arrived, his digits disappeared. Breasts rising and falling against his stomach, she lifted her head, lining up his dick for her next assault. But he beat her to it—again.
One slick finger reappeared at the entry to her anus and this time he didn’t stop at the first constriction. With gentle but insistent force, he pushed into her, making her cry out with what she was surprised to discover was far more pleasure than pain. After sliding into her a few times, she felt another two fingers push into her vagina, all three delving into her simultaneously. And when his thumb started on her clitoris she realised that he was managing to penetrate both holes with one hand. Where the hell did he learn that? Was it some secret handshake from a clandestine fingering society? Fuck!
He’d eased her forward to give his hands room to work so she, theoretically, had better access to his cock. But his vigorous pumping and, now, rigid shaking in what she could only describe as a pussyquake had her face instead collapsing against his groin, getting more acquainted with his pubic hair than anything else.
“Severusssss,” she moaned, releasing his cock and clawing at the quilt in a vain attempt to gain some traction on her increasingly erratic movements and, possibly, her waning sanity. In response, he increased his clitoral ministrations and plunged deeper into both openings until she had no choice but to capitulate.
“Gods!” The hoarse cry flew from her lips as her head strained upward, her entire body hyperextending with her most powerful orgasm yet. After the initial rictus strained through her, she collapsed forward, dislodging him from her pulsating orifices which continued to constrict forcefully, even without his supple digits to suck on.
As her breaths puffed into his pubic hair, she cracked open her eyes to see his full cock still looming over her like some bastion of invincibility. This was impossible. He was impossible. She would have been upset if she hadn’t had a trifecta of incredible orgasms to placate her—and if his incredibly sensual hands hadn’t started massaging her lower back so luxuriously. In reality, he was the one who should have felt hard done by in this slightly one-sided exchange. Perhaps she could console herself with the knowledge that she’d managed to pioneer the new sixty-one sex position, where one person does all the work and the other lies there like a fucking plank.
Come on ‘Mione! Where’s that Gryffindor courage? That fighting spirit?
It’s seeping out of my pussy onto his chest!
Do you think he’s going to come back for more?
Not more of this.
More of what then?
It was true, she hadn’t given him any reason to want to engage with her further—she’d only given him reasons to run a mile. Finally lifting her face from where she’d been blow-drying his groin, she made a decision. She would conquer his incontrovertibly commanding cock if it was the last thing she did. And it probably would be. She could imagine in two days’ time, Mr Dooley paying her a visit, wondering why she hadn’t turned up for work and where the fucking book was.
He would call through the mailbox, ‘Have you got that book?’
And she would call back, her mouth full of a decidedly saliva-logged cock, ‘I’m still working on it!’
Okay, this isn’t very helpful ‘Mione. He’s just a man, the same as any other (except apparently a sex God when he’s not wandering around the classroom sneering at people’s potions), you know what men like, just do it.
Just do it? That’s what she’d said to him and look where it had gotten her. On a one-way journey to ‘death by orgasm.’
This time she decided to maximise her chances of success by keeping her throbbing and saturated holes as far away from him as possible. She remained with her pelvis against his chest and lifted her front end so she could capture his cock in her mouth again. Wrapping one hand around the shaft, she sent the other down to consult with his balls. Even they seemed ridiculously large. She hoped it didn’t mean she was going to cop a firehose of semen if it ever did finally arrive.
Still, that was the least of her concerns. She needed to focus. Drawing the hand on his cock up and down more vigorously, she sucked on his head and swirled her tongue around and over it whilst tugging at his scrotum and gently rubbing his balls. And it worked. She would have grinned if her lips weren’t already stretched to the maximum, hearing him groan behind her, his fingers digging into her buttocks.
Twisting her head from side to side, she increased the pressure around him whilst dragging her hand from the base to the line of her lips. The hand on his scrotum rubbed his nuggets more vigorously, feeling them tighten beneath her fingertips. Then, with a sinking heart, she felt something else. It started as a tingling in her clitoris and then she sensed a strange pressure, like her nub was swelling, expanding like a fleshy balloon. She began to strongly suspect that he’d cast an engorgement charm on her, on the most sensitive part of her body and that he was looking to push her over the edge for the fourth time that morning.
Her suspicions were confirmed when a deft finger nudged her swollen globe and a jolt of electricity coursed through her nether regions, making her howl around his knob.
“I trust this is helping to keep you in the present?” His voice was low but she sensed a note of amusement.
Hermione huffed through her nose, not wanting to lose her momentum now that she could feel him responding. Doing her best to ignore the distraction of his fingertip sliding around her corpulent clit, she increased the speed of her movements and simultaneously tried to take a little more of him into her mouth. She felt like one of those snakes on nature programs who manage to stretch their jaws around a whole deer. Of course it was the snake that was being consumed in this scenario. And by consumed she meant nibbled.
She’d thought she was managing to block out the distraction reasonably well until another of his fingers turned up at the entrance to her pussy and slid inside. Her channel had been left so swollen in the wake of her multiple orgasms that his single digit felt huge, and when he attempted a pair, she wondered if in fact his entire arm had been recruited for the job. The simultaneous pressure on her screaming clit and now reaming against her engorged walls made her want to grit her teeth but it seemed ill-advised with his cock still wedged in her mouth.
Everything was rapidly slipping away again. Hermione felt herself spiralling back down that rabbit hole and she realised now that, unlike the tortoise, slow and steady wasn’t going to win the race. It was a finger up the arse that was going to win the race. The new plan constituted a less uplifting allegory but she couldn’t give two fucks at that moment. Levering her aching jaw off his cock, she sucked her index finger into her mouth. It was less than ideal lubrication but it was all she could manage at short notice without dipping into her own twat, which happened to be filled beyond capacity at that moment.
She noted that her breathing and become more laboured and the warmth had returned to her face. There was no doubt that she was going to come again. But this time she was taking him with her.
Returning to his cock with renewed vigour, she clamped onto his shaft and pressed her tongue into his slit whilst tracking her other hand below his balls until she found his clenching ring. Without hesitation, she entered. A sharp breath hissed from behind her. First blow against the solicitous serpent. His cock instantly became impossibly harder and she felt his breathing quicken beneath her pelvis. You are mine, Professor of Finger Fucking.
Delving into his rectum, she pumped his shaft and engulfed his swollen head in her mouth; he responded by thrusting up into her. It would have been a good sign except that he was pumping in time with the fingers that were in her pussy and she absolutely knew that he wanted her to imagine his cock inside her. Her core surged again.
Keep it together ‘Mione. Not much longer.
It was true. The grunts and moans that were reverberating from his chest were deepening. His cock was like steel and a steady stream of pre-cum was dribbling onto her tongue. But at the same time her pussy was a carnival of sensations that was threatening to send her into a delirium. Pushing deeper into his rectum she felt his prostate through the wall and rubbed against it as she sucked hard.
“Yesss,” he growled as he thrust forcefully into her. “Her mouth took me there . . . imploring me to release my seed . . . I could no longer refrain, giving it to her in gratuitous gushes . . . planting them deeply.” He ended with a guttural groan.
So he’d been fucking refraining, had he? Fucking tenacious bastard. And ‘planting deeply’? Well that was yet to be—
Fuck!
A forceful jet of come hit the back of her throat making her swallow immediately. It was followed by plenty more as his cock jerked about inside her mouth. And then her pussy joined him, shattering around his fingers, her giant clitoris rubbing against his sternum, upping the intensity of her orgasm. She almost choked with trying to cope with the steady stream of semen amid her own convulsions and by the time both had finished, she had been reduced to a shuddering mess, finally sliding off the side of him onto the bed.
She was too incoherent to even swear. And when she felt his hand on her, between her breasts, lying gently over her heart, she also became emotionally incoherent. There was too much going on here. Too much to interpret; too much to misinterpret.
Unsure of how long they both lay there, she was suddenly aware of him moving.
“I have a meeting to attend.”
He rolled off the bed and within seconds had dressed.
“I have teaching all day tomorrow but can finish my writing in the evening,” he said, standing above her so that he was upside down. “Then we are due to meet with Mr Dooley the following day at 5pm?”
Hermione nodded, still unable to speak.
“I’ll owl the remaining pages and copies of the drawings through to you in the morning. Hopefully that will leave you with sufficient time to compile the book?”
She nodded again.
He gave a singular nod in return, his black eyes intently focused upon hers.
“I’d also like to apologise for questioning your courage. Detoxification is not an insignificant undertaking. You are to be commended.”
It was such a formal goodbye, she didn’t know what to make of it. Then he leaned forward and trailed two fingers down her cheek as he had done when he’d first made her come.
He looked about to say something but then turned. And was gone.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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An Accidental Affair *Complete*

An Accidental Affair Complete