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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
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A/N: Oracle: ‘The content can't pertain to him--it sounds far too old. Very curious.’ – Hmmm, curioser and curioser. I like how you’re thinking. Bahahha - see I do give your brain a breather every now and then. The parts you picked as your favourites were mine too, even the 'spearing' bit. He is a tricky orator, I’m hoping we’ll hear more from him soon ;)

Chapter 3 - Un amore Accidental
Hermione’s vibrator buzzed like a drunken bumblebee.
“Fuck.”
Why didn’t these things have low battery warnings? Not that she actually had any spare batteries in the flat. She’d have to buy some with her next pay. And forego some less essential items—like food.
She sighed deeply and tried to relax as she slid the jiggling head down her slit. She wanted this orgasm to be good, having delayed her indulgence for far longer than she, as an instant gratification kind of girl, thought physically possible.
Despite the constant throb between her legs, she’d managed to finish off her parts of the ‘Magic of Seduction’ chapter, insert some incantations on ‘seductive glamours and enhancements’, down four glasses of her alcoholic ginger beer homebrew and now spread herself on her bed trying to reconcile the fact that the man she hated only that morning now seemed to fill her mind so completely that she was having trouble trying to push him out so that she could get herself off.
She needed to conjure another fantasy. And quickly. Otherwise she would come with thoughts of him doing things to her and she didn’t need that particular association hanging over her during any future intensive and excruciating discussions with him about sex.
She ran through her usual fantasy fodder. Viktor? No, he never spoke in her fantasies because he was a bit thick and it was off-putting. For some reason she now had an intense desire for the subject of her fantasy to speak to her. Suggestively. In that low, rich . . . No Hermione! We said not him, didn’t we?
She shook her head, trying to focus as she rubbed the tip slowly around her clitoris. The buzzing seemed to be getting more sluggish, like the drunken bumblebee had stopped to pick up some heavy shopping. She’d better get on with it.
Ron? No, too Ron. The guy at the home brew shop? No, too hairy. She’d fucked him before and had such bad chafing afterwards, she’d walked around for a week looking like she’d crapped herself.
She trawled through her long list of casual flings. They all seemed a bit . . . mundane.
Dammit! She deserved a good orgasm. She’d held off deliberately to make sure of it. Just one fantasy about him? One tiny little one? And that would be the end of it. Definitely. Just to finish off his seduction scene. No one likes an unfinished story . . .
Hmmm. Wellll. Okay. Just this once. But no more after that. Otherwise it’ll fuck you up.
Hermione relaxed as a warm glow rolled across her skin. It seemed that her body had been more than ready to engage, even if her mind wasn’t.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. So where had the story left off? Oh yes, she’d forgotten her umbrella (very unlikely but she was prepared to let that slip for the sake of the fantasy) and walked into an establishment of some sort; let’s say a pub. She was wearing all white. Clearly it wasn’t her wedding day otherwise she wouldn’t be cracking on to some guy in the pub so she’d just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel or something.
Just let go of the compulsory authenticity otherwise we’ll be here all fucking night.
Okay. Moving right along. So she’s done the slinky walking in the ill-advised clothing and he’s standing near the fire with his crotch sticking out. It looks a little weird but, again, she’s prepared to allow some leeway on this. Then he gives her his cloak and says some sexy stuff and she says sexy stuff back and . . . cue fantasy. What . . . happens . . . next?
Hermione visualised him leaning over her. At the same time she had to ignore the laboured hum between her lips—the bumblebee must be having an asthma attack or something.
His elbow was resting casually on the mantel, a glass of firewhisky held between his long elegant fingers. Firewhisky. She hadn’t been able to afford that in such a long time. Maybe if he wasn’t going to finish it she could have just a sip . . . Hermione you have a big fucking problem if, with a vibrator up your twat, you're fantasising about the dregs of someone else’s imaginary whisky!
Okay, she’d leave the whisky. For now.
So where were they going to fuck? Were there rooms upstairs? Could they apparate away somewhere? She quite liked the fire and the pub atmosphere. Surely there must be a place close by? Ah, yes. Perfect! A strange little booth in the corner with a high partition on one side and a dark curtain running perpendicular. Even though it was totally unrealistic, straight out of some debaucherous brothel, it would do very nicely. Well done, me.
She indicated the booth with a coquettish tilt of her head and he responded with a sexy smirk. She couldn’t imagine him smiling; she doubted it’d ever happened. And so he placed the glass on the mantel and followed her. Couldn’t we re-do that bit?
Leave the fucking whisky and get on with it!
Hermione shifted position on the bed, tilting her pelvis so she could thrust the ailing shaft in a little more vigorously. If it wasn’t going to vibrate properly, she realised she was going to have to do most of the work herself.
Okay, so they’re in the booth, curtain drawn, and there’s a comfy looking seat, wide enough for two people lying down. Whew! So now what? Well it wasn’t like she was going to forget that ‘tongue down the cleavage’ line in a hurry. And, frankly, she was over the whole seduction thing. She needed to come. Grabbing him by the shirt-front she pulled him down to her breasts. His warm tongue slid out and snaked down that crevice.
“Uhhhh.”
She couldn’t believe she was already moaning, he’d hardly done anything. Actually, he’d literally done nothing, but she wasn’t willing to ruin the illusion, not now that she could finally feel the tension building inside her.
She wasn’t particularly obsessed with bodice-ripping but the nature of her borrowed clothing, and the fact that she wouldn’t have to pay for repairs with her measly income, meant she was open to it right now. She was, however, concerned about the noise they were going to make. She didn’t want any interruptions. Stopping, mid-thrust, she thought. A band. Yes. There’s a band playing somewhere nearby. That’ll cover up the sound. Oh for fuck’s sake, not Mexican! The jangling chords of ‘La Cucaracha’ immediately brought her orgasmic operation back to square one. Finally, she managed to replace it with some nondescript Irish reel.
By then, she was getting desperate. Placing his large hands on the front of her dress she implored him with hungry eyes and he did just want she wanted. Thank fuck!
Tearing open the sheer fabric, he revealed a white bra. No bra. No bra. Rather, he revealed her large jostling breasts which strained with erect peaks toward his lovely soft lips. Were they lovely? Possibly . . . just a little. His mouth closed over one nipple and sucked on it gently as his tongue flicked out to titillate the tip.
“That’s it,” she sighed.
She grasped her nipple with her free hand and mimicked the soft, languorous tugging of his mouth.
He lowered her onto the extremely comfortable (almost bed-like, in fact) cushions of the seat and proceeded to trail hot, wet kisses down her breasts to her abdomen.
“Just keep ripping,” she mumbled into the empty room.
He did. With an almighty, ear-splitting yank, he rent the fabric in two. And the band played on.
She was now fully exposed except for . . . No fucking knickers either . . . except for the neat strip of pubic hair (as if) adorning her pussy.
Continuing the kisses down over her perfectly maintained and impeccable smelling mound, he arrived at the apex to her lips. Pushing her legs apart, he spread her labia with his fingers and slid his tongue into her folds.
Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose as she arched against the bed.
He lapped at her clitoris, licking around and over the swollen nub. She brought her hand down, imagining she was touching his soft dark hair as he writhed over her. Then he licked lower, working the sensitive opening to her urethra before continuing further, plunging his tongue into her ravenous, and decidedly over-lubricated, cunt.
“Yes. Get in there,” she muttered through gritted teeth, thrusting the non-vibrating vibrator into her sodden slot as she rocked against his overwhelmingly adept muscle.
She visualised herself looking down at him as he devoured her most intimate offering like an ice-cream sandwich, feeling him wanting to taste her essence, drink her down, reaching as deeply into her clenching channel as he could.
Bringing her fingers to her clitoris, she rubbed it as she sped up her thrusts.
He was desperate for her. Desperate to make her come. And she wouldn’t let him down.
“Oh Gods, you sexy fucker!” she groaned as her pussy leapt off the bed, desperately trying to swallow the vibrator. Her heaving muscles sucked at it mercilessly for wave after wave of contractions before she collapsed into a shuddering mass of juice and flesh.
“Fffew.” The air seeped from her lungs.
It might have been a while coming but it was definitely worth it. And she was glad she’d made it a good one as she wouldn’t be fantasising about him again.
Yep. That’s the last time she’d be doing that.
***
She masturbated about him twice more during the night. She ditched the inanimate stick in favour of the tried and trusty hand crank, and was somewhat surprised to discover that she came very quickly both times, despite the fact that they hadn’t even fantasy fucked yet.
Then she had a lucid dream that inspired her to rise early and make a start on the next chapter, ‘The Magic of Foreplay.’
The dream had been so vivid that the words came easily to her. But when she’d finished, she only just had time for a quick shower, which she knew she needed since his proficient fucking nose would know exactly what she’d been up to. Multiple times. Before packing a bag and heading for the apparition point to Hogwarts. She was pleased with what she’d managed to get done but even more interested in how her co-author would . . . respond.
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An Accidental Affair *Complete*

An Accidental Affair Complete