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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
- 16
- 17
- 18
A/N: Anon – ‘Crikey this just got real!’ Hahah – you’ve got to be Australian, right? So pleased that you’re addicted to my updates. Unfortunately only this chapter and one more to go. I don’t have anything else planned for new stories at this point but you never know. Thanks for reviewing :)
Chea – Yes, I did warn you ;). This one shouldn’t spoil your breakfast and hopefully the wait wasn’t too long. Stay well.
OO – Thanks for all the comma craziness – I think the excessive dialogue might have attracted more issues (or maybe it’s just my crazy brain). ‘Snape better not fucking go anywhere. Her pushing him away is what got them into this mess.’ – I’m glad you pointed out the ‘loss of Snape’ link to her issues. ‘But then I thought it would be way more fucked up if it was Snape’ – Well actually, the first time I posted this, I left it open – Snape just said ‘Yes’ when asked if he’d been there, and then I felt it was too much after the emotional build-up; I went back and rewrote it about half an hour later. I just thought it would freak people out a bit much. Although, like you say, it was never going to be the final outcome. I love that we are similarly depraved ;).
LeWyKi – ‘And the explanation does indeed make that spell seem justified’ – I’m glad to hear these things because I’m certainly not an expert on HP at all and wonder about the authenticity of some of the decisions that I make. ‘No such thing as a muggleborn witch/wizard?’ – well, as you say, the implications are huge but I thought it was an interesting idea and wasn’t sure if it had ever been considered before. Some of your questions about Snape’s contemporary will be answered in this chapter but I suspect there will still be others left unanswered. ‘They already know, they are more than compatible.’ – I do hope they both realise this. ‘What about the telepathy stuff?’ – ahhh, thanks for keeping me on track, more this chapter. ‘Intelligent, headstrong, somewhat war-damaged and insecure in their social/emotional behaviour – that just about sums it up – And you’re right about projection. There’s probably a good reason I’ve continued to portray them in this way :) Happy new week to you. x
FalconIce – Thanks so much. I’m glad you’re enjoying your story bingeing. It’s a pleasure to hear when people enjoy my work. Thanks also for your review for ‘In Their Hands’. Much appreciated. x

Chapter 17 – Yon Zafè Aksidan
He was already standing beside the plinth when she arrived; hands clasped before him, staring straight ahead. She’d worn heels with her skirt, making her footsteps echo loudly as she approached him. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of acknowledgement upon her arrival, his black eyes remaining fixed on the wall. She took up a position on the opposite side of the plinth, tucking her bag under her arm. The book was in there, finally complete.
In the distance she heard the familiar sounds of the museum doors being locked to the public. It wouldn’t be long.
He was so quiet, she couldn’t even hear him breathing. But his presence, as usual, was palpable. It prickled her skin through her thin cardigan, pressing against her despite the podium that separated them. And of course there was the scent of him, faint motes wafting over, contrasting with his closed demeanour.
Across the room, the oak door opened and in strode two figures. The shorter of the two was an officious-looking Mr Dooley, squinting myopically as he crossed the room; the taller blonde man wore a dark green robe and walked with the air of an aristocrat. Neither spoke as they marched toward the plinth. Hermione heard the muttered ‘fuck’ from Severus at about the same time as she worked out who the stranger must be. She drew herself up to her full height, which was slightly more than usual with her heels, and tried to appear calm despite the jackhammering in her chest.
“So, did you manage to locate another copy of the book you destroyed?” Mr Dooley asked, his manner terse as he addressed them.
“Good afternoon, Mr Dooley,” Severus’ deep voice rang out before Hermione could reply. “It’s been a long time, Walter.” He levelled his eyes at the blonde man.
“Severus.” The man sneered, showing a pair of gold-capped teeth. “Why am I not surprised that you were involved in this little fiasco?”
Severus didn’t respond but his jaw muscles tightened as he continued to hold the man’s deprecating gaze.
“Mr Whiffle has been kind enough to agree to verify the authenticity of any publication that you may have procured. He knows his great grandfather’s work extremely well as you can imagine.” Mr Dooley peered at them. “However, if you have chosen instead to pay the money, I would ask that you expedite the process as we have some other business to attend to.”
“We have the book,” Hermione replied, her eyes not wavering from the tall man who was regarding her with undisguised interest.
Reaching into her bag, she brought out a package wrapped in tissue paper and handed it to Mr Dooley.
“Let’s see,” he muttered, pulling the paper off and dipping into his pocket for his magnifying glass. Shifting his glasses to his forehead, he carefully examined the front cover of the book.
Hermione had ensured that it was an exact replica of the original and she had manipulated the magical ink so that all of the text was written in an identical font. Apart from that, however, there wasn’t a single word from Mr Walter P. Whiffle the First in there. Would his great grandson choose to let it go? Hermione suspected not. It seemed that there was no love lost between he and Severus. No doubt the man whose eyes were lingering on her bare legs would be looking to screw the Potions Professor into the ground.
Mr Dooley handed the book to Whiffle. He opened to a page in the middle and frowned as he scanned the words.
“What is this rubbish?” He looked up at Severus.
Severus’ black eyes flashed but she could tell that he was at a loss for how to respond. How could he explain it? That the two of them had spent the past week writing a bunch of erotic narratives in an attempt to pass it off as his great grandfather’s work?
“What is it, Mr Whiffle?” Mr Dooley held up the magnifying glass for a closer look.
“You won’t need a magnifying glass to see that there is some sort of deception at play,” Mr Whiffle muttered as he flicked through the pages. “This is simply a collection of poorly-written smut. It’s clearly an attempt to blight the Whiffle name and I would suggest that your response should leave these two in no doubt as to how seriously you take such a feeble attempt to mislead yourself and this museum.”
“Is that the case . . . Miss . . . Granger?” Mr Dooley’s moustache twitched angrily.
“No, that is not the case,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly. “I actually believe it to be very well-written smut.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mr Dooley growled, his small hands balling into fists.
“Furthermore, it is not an attempt to blight the Whiffle name, as the Whiffle name is not on this publication,” she stated, reaching out and pulling the book from Mr Whiffle’s hands.
Turning to the main cover, she wiped her hand across the author’s name. The two capital W’s in ‘Walter P. Whiffle’ remained, but the other letters transformed so that they now read, the ‘Wet Woman’.
“Who the fuck is the ‘Wet Woman’?” Mr Whiffle sneered at her.
“She is someone who is getting increasingly tired of having to explain herself,” Hermione stated. “And I believe she also had a collaborator.”
When she wiped her hand over the blank section below ‘By the Wet Woman’, another set of words appeared – ‘And the Solicitous Serpent’.
“And who is the—“
Whiffle stopped when he saw the slow lift of Severus’ eyebrow.
“So you don’t have the book then?” Mr Dooley stepped closer, his cheeks flushed with rage.
“As it turns out—no.” Hermione flicked her hair. “But I do have something else.”
Reaching into her bag she pulled out a pouch and pushed it roughly into his stomach. The rattle of galleons within was sufficient to finally shut his whiskery mouth.
“The other reason this publication can’t be considered a blight on the Whiffle name,” Hermione continued, “is that the Whiffle name is already as blighted as any name could possibly be. The Whiffles—present company included—are a stain on humanity—Wizards and Muggles alike. But their despicable legacy is slowly being whittled away, replaced and re-written. And I look forward to this new edition of ‘The Magic of Sex’ replacing everything that your disgusting family has ever created.”
“Now, now, Mudblood.” Whiffle sneered in disdain. “How do you propose for this garbage to displace over one hundred years of wizarding scholarship?”
Hermione took a deep breath, determined to remain composed.
“This ‘garbage’ happens to have been purchased by the largest publishing house in the wizarding world and I have it on good authority that nothing like it currently exists. They are extremely confident that it’s going to be a best seller. The advance is—how should I put it—substantial. They’ve also commissioned a sequel. I think the authors are going to be extremely busy.” Her gaze flickered toward Severus whose lip twitched almost imperceptibly.
“Miss Granger, I demand that you explain yourself!” Mr Dooley growled, clearly unhappy with being left out of the loop.
“My explanation is as follows.” Hermione propped a hand on her hip. “You can shove your stupid fucking job up your arse. And . . . I’d like to give you a piece of advice.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m not sure what further business you have with this man, but if it is of a sexual nature I would suggest bringing that magnifying glass with you—someone who needs to render people unconscious to have sex with them is not only lower than a Flobberworm’s testicles but must have an infinitesimally small dick.”
With that she stepped around the plinth and grabbed Severus’ hand. “Not something that certain others have a problem with.”
“Good day, gentlemen,” she huffed and strode from the room, Severus following a step behind, regarding her with a mixture of confusion and admiration.
Hermione drew her wand as she approached the front door of the museum.
“Alohomora!” She flicked her wand at it, not breaking stride as she exited, continuing to pull Severus in her wake.
In silence, they walked to the nearest Apparition point, where she transported them to an alley by her flat. It wasn’t until she had led him inside and slammed the door that she finally spoke,
“Take a seat on the couch please.”
Severus paused, eyeing her warily before doing as she asked.
When he was seated, she approached slowly, arms braced across her chest.
“I’ve had some time to think,” she said, reading the question on his face.
“A matter of hours?” he responded, his bloodshot eyes narrowing, clearly unconvinced.
“As I said,” she dipped her fingers into the front of her cardigan and pulled out a gold chain, hung with a pendant of concentric gold disks, a tiny hourglass in the centre, “I’ve had time to think.”
He frowned before inclining his head toward the Time-Turner. “McGonagall?”
“Yes. She was most sympathetic.”
He nodded wearily and she noticed then how completely exhausted he looked. He clearly hadn’t slept since she’d demanded that he leave her flat in the early hours of the morning. No doubt he’d been ruminating on what had transpired.
“I’ve spent many days working through my feelings about what happened.” She began to pace the worn carpet. “I’ve cried more than I ever thought possible. And at one point, I thought I wanted to kill you.”
She took in his dejected posture—quite sure he wouldn’t put up a fight even if she tried to do it now.
“However, I realised that you’d chosen to tell me the truth when you could have easily lied. Also, after a lot of searching I managed to track down a certain individual with intimate knowledge of what had transpired in the Muggle raids. He informed me that he distinctly remembers you being punished by Voldemort for consistently ‘going missing’ at the crucial times. He also remembers that your role was to carry and distribute the potions and not much more. I further realise that you were young and probably quite afraid, and you have clearly been trying to make up for it ever since.”
Hermione sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that I forgive you. I forgive you for your involvement in those despicable acts. And I don’t wish to discuss them further.”
He was looking more drained by the moment—the shadows beneath his eyes deepening. It was as though the very fabric of his being had been held together by the tension of guilty deception, and as it was being aired, forgiven, released, he was collapsing into a state of almost childlike remorse—a guilt that should be tempered by unconditional love—but unfortunately something that he had probably never known. It was all she could do to stop herself from crawling onto his lap and rocking him. There was more she needed to say.
“I want to know why you performed Legilimency on me. Were you looking into my memories or were you deliberately trying to manipulate me?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t once perform Legilimency on you. I didn’t need to. You were always so easy to read, Hermione.”
“When we were in your bathroom, you told me that I was thinking out loud when I wasn’t.”
Severus shrugged. “You were. I could tell from the sounds that you were making what you wanted. It was the sound you always made when you thought you might be missing out on sex.”
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione tried to sound proper—after all she was wearing her most proper outfit—but she could feel a deep flush creeping into her cheeks.
He raised an eyebrow at her—somehow managing to look innocent. “You wanted to know.”
She levelled her eyes at him. “So are there any more of these choice moments I should be aware of? Any other phrases or . . . noises . . . I make, that are an apparent dead giveaway?”
The ghost of a smirk crossed his face. “Well, there's one phrase that you mentioned yesterday evening that I always found quite simple to decipher.”
“Yes?” She lifted her chin, determined to be able to withstand whatever embarrassment may be on its way.
He inhaled deeply. “The phrase is, ‘Give it to me, you sexy fucker’. For some reason I was quite able to crack the code on that one. And, yes, you’ve always been crude, Miss Granger.”
Hermione looked at the floor, an embarrassed smile on her face.
There it was again, that low chuckle of his. When her eyes returned to his, he was looking at her with such affection, she knew that he was absolutely accepting of her, no matter how crude. Again she was captured by that intense desire to curl up in his lap. But she knew she needed to get the answers to the questions that had plagued her during her time alone if they were ever going to move forward.
Biting her lip, her face became serious once again. “If the chapter I wrote on hand jobs was accurate—then you encouraged me to wank you off without even looking at me. Who did you think I was?”
He was silent for a moment before responding. “I thought you were you.”
“We’d had no relationship whatsoever prior to this and yet you somehow knew it was me?” Hermione looked unconvinced.
He sighed. “It was your hands. When I felt them, I knew it was you. Small, soft, supple—I’d watched them chopping and brewing in class for years. There’s a good reason I invited you into an apprenticeship. You have wonderful hands.”
Hermione smiled inwardly. She couldn’t say a lot. She’d been ogling his hands for years.
“And yet that doesn’t explain why you expected me to give you a hand job.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t have to—it was merely a suggestion. You could have removed yourself quite easily. I just suddenly had a desire to feel those beautiful hands on me.”
Hermione knew just how he felt. Her deep desire to have his beautiful hands on her was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
“And after I’d felt them once,” his long fingers gently rubbed along his thigh, “I knew I wanted to feel them again. Many more times.”
Hermione’s breathing rate had gone up a notch but she had one final question to ask. “Why did you really agree to write the book?”
He must have read the look on her face because he suddenly reached out for her wrist and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her.
“Because when we started writing, I realised it was going to be everything that Whiffle’s book wasn’t—raw, sexy, fantastical, but also open, honest and with a certain innocence—that of just wanting to fuck someone you really fancy, maybe someone you love, without some ulterior motive. Even if no one read it, it felt—as you suggested to Whiffle—like an act of defiance. We were re-writing history, erasing a little of the horror that had come before. It appealed to me very much in the end. That’s why I Owled through the final chapters this morning—although I was unsure of what you would do with them. I didn’t even know if you would make an appearance today.”
“Well I did,” she murmured quietly into his chest. She was sick of being proper now. She’d spent a long time without him, just in her own company, and she was totally over herself.
“You certainly did. And it was spectacular,” he whispered in her ear.
She nuzzled into him further. “I missed you.”
“Did you?” he rumbled, his chest vibrating against her.
“Mmm. I even Time-Turned back a little further—to when we were fucking on my bed. I hid under it, listening to us.”
“Is that all you were doing?”
“No. I had my bumble-bee out.”
“Your what?” he chuckled, making her jiggle.
“I’ll introduce you to it some time.” She smiled against him.
Then her smile dropped away. “But there’s something important we need to do first.”
“What’s that?”
She sat back to look into his face. “I know you're aware of who my real father is.” He returned her gaze with a serious frown, clearly wondering where this was going. “But I know who he is too—he’s a loving man walking along a beach somewhere in Australia with my darling mother. And now it’s time to bring them home . . . Will you help me?”
He nodded, "Of course," and squeezed her tightly.
“We have enough money to do it now, but we’ll need to make a start on the next book as soon as possible,” she said, trailing her fingers through his hair.
“Are you sure you can work up enough inspiration so soon?” He leaned forward, drawing the tip of his nose down her temple.
“You’re forgetting—it’s been a hell of a lot longer for me. I think I might be nearly as old as you after all that time-turning.” She smirked against his cheek.
“But you’re never too old to go over my knee,” he growled.
“Thank fuck for that,” she muttered, turning her head to capture his lips in a deeply passionate kiss.
They continued to explore each other slowly, and with an intent to connect and heal. After several long sensuous minutes, Hermione pulled back.
“This next book does need to be a bit different though. Maybe a little more . . . kinky."
“What did you have in mind?” He trailed his fingers down her cheek, regarding her hungrily.
She nuzzled against his palm. “Well, you’re the one who claims to know over one hundred sex positions.”
“I might have been trying to impress you.” He trailed his thumb across her lips.
“It worked.” She nipped at him. “But now it’s time to follow through. So, I’ve had a bit of an idea.”
“Mmm?”
“Well, now that I’m fully detoxified, I won’t have an opportunity to see multiple fuzzy-wuzzy Severus Snapes again.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“But I do have this.” She dangled the time-turner in front of him. “How do you fancy a ménage à trois with myself, and a sexy fucker called Severus Snape?”
Severus groaned deep in his throat, clearly turned on. “I thought Dooley was the only one you told to go fuck himself?”
She snorted with laughter. “True. But now you’re dealing with the 'Wet Woman'.”
“My Wet Woman,” he murmured against her lips.
“And my Solicitous Serpent.” She licked into his mouth. “Or should I say, Solicitous Serpents . . . “
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An Accidental Affair *Complete*

An Accidental Affair Complete