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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
- 15
- 16
- 17
A/N: DawnEB – Here is your update. A few answers to your questions I think. But perhaps a few more questions also?
OO – ‘I used cauterized in Q too. Stop reading my mind!’ – I belive this happened in GP and TQ too – we must be doing a bit of writing telepathy! Thanks for the hyphens – I know them but I think I’m rushing a bit much. ‘If she's not supposed to remember, I'm guessing he cast a memory charm on her. But I'm also guessing it might not have been his idea.’- clever, clever. Let’s see what this chapter holds. ‘I'm not patient at all.’ – hahah, compared to me, you’re a monk!
LeWyKi – ‘All I can see is being led from the shadows into even more darkness of the labyrinth of this story's mysteries.’ – true, a small amount of light, but also a little more shade. ‘A well-placed obliviate on Hermione’ – hmmmm, interesting theory! ‘They were only suppressed coming back to haunt her in vague dreams, random impressions and emotions’ – again, I like where you are going. ‘It only seems fair when talking about two headstrong and yet insecure people.’ – I like your appraisal of their personalities. Is this how you always see them or just in this story? ‘Now, what will you give us to speculate about, next?’ – Aha, I look forward to your appraisal of this chapter. ‘let my 'vast' experience of three months spent in the UK, two years ago, along with fanfic and English movies speak for itself ;)’ – It’s more than impressive if that is all of the experience you are drawing from. I love your erratic commas, don’t change them :). And I also like to hear about weather. It is snowing on and off here at the moment. Good weather for writing ;)
Anon – Sorry this one took a bit longer than the last couple – there’s a bit in it. I was also away for work – damn real world.
Chea – First – congratulations on your pregnancy. I remember how tired I was looking after another little one whilst pregnant so get all the rest you can. I can’t guarantee that this chapter won't muck with your hormones again though. If so, make sure you return for the end. x

Chapter 16 – An Accidental Hoʻokolokolo
Hermione stared at him.
Didn’t he understand the point of what she’d written? The hand job narrative was her way of explaining the guilt she’d felt at having left him to die on the floor of the Shrieking Shack—she was asking for his forgiveness. And if he didn’t understand, why had he burst in here like a whirlwind of fucking?
She’d assumed that what had just transpired between them was his way of telling her that he understood—his expression of forgiveness. So if that wasn’t the case, why was he here? To congratulate her on completing another fucking chapter?
“You do realise that I was writing about forgiveness don’t you?” she asked, trying to capture his eyes which seemed to be focused on a point above her head.
He didn’t look at her but sighed before muttering quietly, “I know.”
She dropped the lock of his hair that she’d been threading through her fingers. There was something strangely familiar about the sensation, about lying next to him, about . . . everything.
What had he said to her? That he was stunned to discover she remembered? What had she remembered? Was there a clue in the chapter she’d written? Something he thought had really happened? Maybe he’d been in a delirium in the hospital. Had he dreamed that someone had come to see him? Did he think that it was her? How was she going to tell him that she hadn’t set eyes on him since that terrible day—not until he’d turned up in the museum all these years later.
How devastating for him if he’d been imagining all this time that something had happened between them. Maybe that was why he’d been so rude to her in the museum. Perhaps he was embarrassed?
“Why did you think that I was writing about a memory?” she finally asked. “Was there something I wrote that was . . . familiar?”
Perhaps he was experiencing the same déjà vu that she was. A sense that something had happened before. Even when it hadn’t.
When his eyes returned to hers, they were so full of pain that she instantly put her hand on his chest in concern. “What is it? What happened?”
Then she watched as the most inexplicable thing occurred. A tear—just like that day in the Shack—overflowed from his brimming eyes and slid down the bridge of his nose.
“Severus, tell me!” She grabbed him by the upper arm, shaking him.
More tears fell as his long lashes closed.
What was it? Had he done something? Had she done something?
He brought his hand from her hip to his face where he rubbed his fingers into his closed eyes as if trying to wring out the tears.
“Fuck,” he whispered before sniffing loudly.
Hermione was at a loss watching him. She was shocked but also extremely saddened to see this tremendously powerful man breaking down before her. She knew it must be something significant. Did it involve her?
“Did I do something?” she asked quietly.
He huffed and gave a slight shake of his head. She couldn’t tell if it was reassurance or an expression of denial. And despite it, she could still feel the panic rising. What could be so fucking bad?
“Severus, I’m really scared that I’ve done something to hurt you,” she said, gently pulling his hand away from his face. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
He suddenly rolled away from her to face the ceiling, one arm draped across his chest as though in physical pain. He took several deep breaths like he was working up to something and when he spoke his voice was hoarse with emotion.
“We were lovers . . . before.”
Hermione took a gasping breath as she felt the walls of her small room collapsing, caving in on her. Rolling away from him, she clutched her arms to her own chest as the crushing continued—there didn’t seem to be enough air.
“Hermione.” He grasped her shoulder and pulled her toward him; his hand slid to her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I genuinely thought your memories had returned. There were so many references . . . in your writing . . . in how you communicated . . . I just thought . . . “
Hermione shook her head as she stared at him. If they’d been lovers, why couldn’t she remember any of it?
“Did I have an accident?” she breathed. “Why would I forget?”
That same expression of intense pain crossed his face. “You asked me to Obliviate every memory of us . . . I did as you asked.”
Her mind was spinning, caught in a whirlpool of emotions—it was impossible for her to comprehend what he was saying.
“Severus, tell me everything. Please. I need to know,” she muttered urgently, feeling a welling sense of loss that her subconscious clearly understood but her mind was yet to grasp. It was that same emptiness she’d tried to fill with alcohol these past years. This was going to be hell.
His eyes searched her face. His expression was one of such sadness, Hermione was almost loathe to put him through it but she absolutely needed to know, for her own sanity as much as anything.
“If I tell you, you will ask me to Obliviate you again. This entire week will no longer exist for you,” he rasped, swallowing with difficulty.
“But it will for you,” Hermione completed what he was clearly trying to tell her.
“As does all the rest. Everything.”
How could he know how she would respond? Perhaps she’d grown up, matured since then. She’d certainly detoxified. And they’d spent an intense and overwhelmingly enjoyable few days together. She really was very fond of him. Why would she want to forget him forever?
“Severus, you must know that I have feelings for you. In only this short time. Perhaps more than can be explained by our current circumstances. It’s possible that part of me does remember. My body certainly responds to you, overwhelmingly, and it did right from the beginning, that very first day we were together. And your presence conjures extremely intense feelings. But you know I can’t remain like this. Knowing in my heart but not in my mind—the same torture that my mother is enduring. Without the truth there can be no future for us—if there ever was to be one.”
As she watched, his eyes brimmed with tears again.
“I just don’t want to lose you again. Not after all this time.” His chest heaved.
Hermione found herself crying with him—without a clue as to why but feeling the intensity of his pain and knowing she was somehow responsible.
“Severus, tell me about the hospital,” she finally murmured, reaching out and running her fingers along his trembling lips.
He was quiet a long time; eventually his breathing became less ragged. He seemed to compose himself but his face had become dead, almost emotionless.
“That was the beginning. That’s when it all started. You came to see me and . . . that’s what happened. Exactly that. And you returned many times. We grew . . . closer. We did more . . . shared more. I attribute much of my physical recovery to you . . . But not only that—also my emotional recovery. I don’t know how I would have come through it without you.”
Hermione felt dazed. Like he was retelling a story about a stranger. She remembered none of it and yet had written about it. But for her it was a fantasy drawn from her imagination, vivid but certainly never experienced.
“How long were we . . . together?”
“One year. Twelve days.”
Hermione bit her lip. His statements were blunt yet revealed a world of hurt, of loss. And she didn’t know what to do with her own feelings. She had no memory, no visual, no understanding to attach them to but they were genuine and so intense that they felt like a ball of fire in her chest.
“Did people know about us? Were we open about it?”
“No. No one knew. We wished to keep it between ourselves. We were unsure of how it would be received. You were seeking an apprenticeship at the time.”
“An apprenticeship? With whom?”
“With me.”
“Fuck!”
Hermione held her head. “Are you telling me that I was on an apprenticeship pathway and somehow I’ve ended up spending years supervising dusty bits of junk in a fucking museum?”
“You wanted it all Obliviated. On that day in the museum when you told me you’d been untraceable before, you were talking about what remained after the Obliviation. That year we were together—much of it was spent in my chambers, other times you stayed with me at my home in Spinner’s End. When all off those memories were removed and a few inserted, all that remained was a year of apparent displacement, hazy references to locations and events—untraceable because they never existed.
Hermione’s head was thumping. She had deliberately chosen to fuck up her entire life. Why? And why had he let her?
“So that doesn’t really explain why you were such a bastard to me? If we’d shared all of this wonderful history, why were you such a total fucking prick in the museum that day?” Hermione could feel herself getting more and more agitated. “And why did you destroy the book for that matter? It was done deliberately, wasn’t it?”
He rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and sighed heavily.
“We had a more recent history. Not so wonderful.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your only memories of me after the Obliviation were those from Hogwarts and clearly you didn’t hold me in particulaly high regard as a student. In fact, it was more than obvious that you despised me. Every time I encountered you, it seemed to be worse. Or perhaps I just took it increasingly badly. Either way, you would seek to demean or belittle me in some way. The last time it was a drunken rant in the Leaky Cauldron about what a fucking bastard I’d been. Of course I Obliviated all of those encounters too.”
“Why?” Hermione crossed her arms. “What right did you have to take away my memories?”
“You made me promise.” Severus looked forlorn, as though he didn’t quite understand it either. “When our relationship ended, you stated that if we ever saw each other again, I was to remove all memory of it. You didn’t want me in your thoughts ever again.”
“And what made you do it? I wouldn’t have even remembered that I’d asked it of you.” Hermione was struggling to understand how this man who excelled in superior snidery and degradation could be so apparently weak-willed. What could have compelled him to act in such a way?
He swallowed and his forehead creased again in that look of despair that was becoming all too familiar.
“You said if I loved you that I would do it. And so I did. Always.”
Fuck! Hermione wasn’t sure how much more she could take. These revelations. His pain. She was feeling it so viscerally. More than she could explain.
“So why are we lying here together now? Why do I have a week of the two of us in my memory? Are you planning to Obliviate me again? To fuck me up even more?” Hermione choked on the words. “Why didn’t you do it back in the museum, instead of putting me through all this again?”
Severus’ face was guilt-ridden. “I made a mistake. The accident with the book. There were too many witnesses. And then there was the problem of the book itself that couldn’t be easily explained even if the memory was Obliviated. And,” he looked down at the bedcovers, “I was also angry at you—hurt by the way you made me feel, the promises you’d forced upon me. And despite it all, you still hated me. I wanted you to feel some of the same. I didn’t know that you worked at the museum, but in some ways I wasn’t surprised to see you. It had become a reasonably common event for you to somehow turn up exactly at the wrong moment for me.”
“But you were going to leave me to take the blame for something that you had obviously done!” Hermione cried indignantly. “Didn’t that concern you at all?”
“I thought you might have had a better . . . relationship with your employer.”
“Really? What sort of relationship?” Hermione’s jaw firmed.
“Oh, I don’t know. One where he might use his insurance to pay for a damaged artefact rather than force his employee to pay out of her own pocket.”
“Did you think I was fucking Mr Dooley?” Hermione’s face flushed with anger.
Severus sighed. “I had no idea what you were doing in your private life. I’d seen you all over all sorts of people.”
“So that was where the ‘ankles behind the ears’ line came from was it?” Hermione sneered. “You thought I was a slut!”
He rubbed his face with both hands. “I didn’t think you were a slut. I didn’t know you any more. I really didn’t want to know you any more. I’d become accustomed to thinking of you as simply a past student—one I didn’t have a particularly good relationship with. But then . . . you came up with this fucking ridiculous collaboration. Initially I only indulged the idea because I wasn’t willing to foot the entire bill. I believed Mr Dooley was enough of a prick to chase me for it and after recent . . . expenses . . . I have little to spare.” He sighed. “I must admit I was also interested to see if any further copies of the book existed. I considered this might provide the opportunity. But then you were there in my office again—adamant, demanding, infuriating—regardless, I somehow found it harder and harder to despise you. And it became clear, even back at the beginning that the Obliviate hadn’t completely held. There were cracks appearing. Watching your response to my first story, the woman in the rain—it was so classical. So . . . Hermione. I just knew that you were there—inside it.”
“But who was she?”
“She was you, Hermione.” Severus curled his hand into her hair. “A secret rendezvous—one of the many.”
“But I’ve never owned a white dress.”
“It was a white shirt, completely soaked. Hermione, I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“I would never forget my umbrella,” she muttered inanely.
“You would if I asked you to. Just so I could see you enter the room like that. Everyone’s eyes upon you—thoroughly wet and devastatingly beautiful. But you were mine.”
Hermione’s heart was aching again. “What about the woman in the forest? Your forbidden love?”
“They were all you.”
Then the tears came. All of those beautiful words. Just for her. For both of them. It was a story of such deep love. So where had it all gone wrong?
“Even your first chapter, the blindfold seduction—there were elements from our earliest times together, after I’d been released from hospital. So many similarities. And when you were telling it, I was transported back to that moment. The seduction had been beyond exhilarating, beyond anything. It fucking nearly killed me to listen to it.”
Hermione thought about where that initial chapter had come from. It had been a lucid dream after she’d masturbated over him throughout the night. But clearly it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory, hidden deep in her subconscious, drawn out by the intensity of her burgeoning thoughts and feelings.
“What about the classroom scene?”
“Well.” He raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “It wasn’t exactly the same. Not nearly as aggressive as you depicted. At least, that’s not how I recall it. But there were certainly . . . “
“You said it didn’t you?” she murmured. “That line was yours, ‘I’m finding your mouth more and more agreeable’.”
He looked at her so intently, as if willing that moment to be theirs to enjoy rather than scrutinising it as they were now. “Yes.”
It was Hermione’s turn to rub her face in her hands. She was being drawn further and further into a never-ending spiral of events that she was worried she might not be able to emerge from intact.
“So what about all of that Slytherin versus Gryffindor stuff?”
“I must admit that there was an element of inquiry involved; I wanted to discover just how many memories still existed for you. And whether they were only sexual—perhaps bound up in the physical and emotional realm. The Slytherin/Gryffindor courage was a private joke we shared. You never could resist the bait.”
He had been testing her. Just not in the way she’d imagined.
“So you saw me as an experiment? You indulged me and the book writing to test out the effectiveness of your Obliviation?” she snapped. “I should be flattered.”
“No, of course not.” A deep frown cut through his brow. “I knew about what had happened with your parents, just not the financial situation, which has clearly been getting worse. I didn’t realise how much their circumstances, and perhaps the remnants of your Obliviation, had eaten away at you. When I saw your drunkenness and your despair, I wanted to help. To put some of it right. I told you the truth about my father. However, I wanted to help you beyond that. I just didn’t intend for things to go as far as they did.” He tried to clear the tightness in his throat. “Hermione, being close to you again and . . . knowing how much you wanted me, it was all I could do to try to maintain control. And I barely managed it. In fact, clearly I didn’t.”
Hermione thought about the intense sexual tension that had captured them—the carnal nature of their encounters, the raw need she had recognised in him. In both of them. She also realised that there was a damn good reason he had seemed so proficient at stimulating her.
“I did think that you were surprisingly . . . adept.” She found herself playing with his hair again.
“I know everything about you.” His hand slid down her naked hip. “I know your body like my own. I know what you love to do. What you love to hear. We’ve fucked so many times in nearly as many places.”
His face was animated with the memories that must have been flashing behind his eyes. She wished she could see them. She was also somewhat relieved to discover that he wasn’t so much a sex expert as an expert on her pussy. It also made her feel a little better about her abysmal performance in her ‘research’ for the sixty-nine sex position chapter.
“Don’t you think that you had a bit of an unfair advantage? Using your knowledge to manipulate me?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t want it to be like that. Despite everything, I’d been desperately trying to cling on to the idea that this had simply been a chance meeting. An accidental affair. Even in the comfort of my own mind I wouldn’t allow myself to indulge the idea of a future for us, or even a past. Not until you wrote that last chapter. And then it all crumbled—I couldn’t hold the façade together any longer. I really thought that you’d returned.”
Returned? Returned for him? As his? She honestly couldn’t think of anything she would rather at that point. But there was still the question of what had happened to the book. And the monstrous fucking question of why she had wanted to erase every trace of him from her life.
“Tell me about the book, Severus," she said finally. "I need to know the truth.”
He slid his hand off her hip and rolled away to face the ceiling again. He couldn’t look at her. Either he was going to lie or he was going to tell her the truth. Either way, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear.
“Have you ever heard of a ‘Whiffler’?”
“Yes, of course I have,” she replied with a puzzled frown. “I never let a man buy me a drink because of it.”
A ‘Whiffler’ was a well known date rape potion that was often used to spike women’s drinks. Colourless, odourless, tasteless—everyone was warned about them. It made the imbiber almost catatonic and removed all memory of the event.
“Ever wonder where the name came from?”
She hadn’t in the past—but now she did.
“Are you telling me that Walter P. Whiffle invented the ‘Whiffler’?”
“Not the one that wrote the book. His great grandson. He happens to be a Potions master. I’ve trained with him on occasions and . . . he was an advisor to Voldemort.”
Hermione was having trouble following the logical leaps in his story.
“So you destroyed the book because of Whiffle’s great grandson?”
Severus sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “’The Magic of Sex’ was an insidious attempt to encourage the spread of wizarding bloodlines. Beneath the innocuous exterior, under the guise of light-hearted promiscuity, there was a subversive message that everything, including sex, would be improved by inter-breeding with Muggles, without having to go through the degradation of having to marry one.”
“Are you saying that the book encouraged wizards to rape Muggles?”
“Not explicitly. At least not this book. It started off as an encouragement of casual unprotected sex. But Whiffle’s son and grandson continued to build upon the theme in their own writing, and then the great grandson took it to a whole new level with potions that would enable it to be enacted.”
“So what happened to the great grandson?" she asked. "Did he die in the war?”
“No. Unfortunately not. But he generally lays low. He was careful to keep himself out of the inner sanctum and covered his associations with Voldemort carefully. But his potions and the books of his ancestors still exist. At least some do. The ones I haven’t managed to purchase or destroy.”
“I don’t understand." Hermione propped herself up on an elbow to get a better look at his face. "What do these books have to do with you?”
He put his hands behind his head, looking anything but casual. “And now we come to the whole reason why you asked me to Obliviate you. You found out about what I was doing.”
“Why would I care about that?”
“Because . . . “ He took a deep breath. “When I was a Death Eater, we were made to enact Whiffle’s plan to spread the Wizarding seed throughout the Muggle world. Voldemort was much more enamoured with this idea than that of creating a pure bloodline. He wanted to breed Muggles out entirely. And Whiffle the Fourth was the key to it all, creating potions that enabled it to happen subversively; with no evidence left behind. Except for . . . one . . . thing.”
“And what was that?” Hermione’s heart suddenly accelerated.
He finally looked at her, his eyes fathomless pits. “A mudblood child.”
“What?”
“A host of magical children, born to non-magical Muggle parents during and after the first wizarding war. Inexplicable. Except that it wasn’t.” He stared at her, utterly defeated.
Hermione blinked furiously as she tried to make sense of his words. “What are you saying, Severus?”
He didn’t respond.
“Severus, what are you fucking saying?” Her voice rose. “That my mother was raped by a pack of Death Eaters?" Her face contorted with pain. "And that I’m the product?”
He was beyond tears, his face ashen.
Hermione put a trembling hand to her cheek. “Were you there, Severus? Were you there when my mother was raped?”
He didn’t look at her. “Yes. But I didn't—”
In an instant she was off the bed, holding a pillow to her stomach. “I need you to leave right now,” she gasped.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione.” Severus looked at her, shattered.
“Get the fuck out of here!” she screamed.
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An Accidental Affair *Complete*

An Accidental Affair Complete