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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
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A/N: Oracle – I’m glad you found it hot and funny. That’s my favourite combo too. Sev and the fantasy bug? He might be closer after this chapter ;). You are absolutely right – the bumblebee was entirely your fault. The heavy shopping is a derivation of a Blackadder line which I love. Maybe she shouldn’t switch to glass – she could do herself an . . . injury. Yes, this looks like it might be a mutually beneficial arrangement . . . I hope.

Chapter 4 - Un asunto accidental

Despite the decidedly cool reception she’d received upon arriving at his office, she was surprised to discover that a fire was already crackling in the grate, casting a welcome glow over the sepulchral gloom that normally presided.

She sat in the seat she’d occupied the day before, trawling her gaze over the macabre collection of random entrails, offal and other organs in myriad jars stacked along his shelves. Another cupboard held a variety of viscous liquids, marrows, humors, bloods and biles, oily and fetid like a ghoul’s liquor cabinet.

Liquor. Hermione felt the agitation start as an unwelcome itch deep in her muscles.

He hadn’t been so much reserved as completely withdrawn. A single dip of his beak was all the acknowledgement she’d received, his attention occupied by a bundle of stalks which he proceeded to chop at his workbench with such intensity she wondered if he were imagining inflicting the decisive chops upon his present company.

Hermione wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Judging by the prickling chill that radiated from him, she guessed that he hadn’t indulged in a long evening of masturbation fantasies about her. Mutilation fantasies perhaps? Still, it wasn’t as though she was suddenly besotted with him. There had been way too much blighted history between them for her deep-set resentment to simply evaporate overnight. But, she had to admit, she was warming to him. At least parts of her were.

As the minutes ticked past on the mantel clock, it became abundantly clear that he had no intention of initiating conversation. She stewed in the awkward silence, broken only by the rhythmic chops that were becoming increasingly annoying—to the point that she now imagined taking his sanctimonious scalpel and shoving it up his —

“Surely you have somewhere more pressing to be?”

It was like yesterday had never happened. She wasn’t going to go over the same fucking explanation every time she saw him.

Huffing loudly, she pulled the sheaf of parchment from her bag.

“I have to go to work this afternoon but I’ve made a start on chapter two,” she said. “I’d like to check it with you.”

“I’ll read it later.” He didn’t look up from his chopping.

“No, I’ll read it to you now.”

“I’m busy.”

“Your ears aren’t busy.”

His mouth clamped shut in a tight fissure of disapproval.

“The Magic of Foreplay,” she read, venturing a quick glance at his face which held all the enthusiasm of a fence post.

“He stood naked in the centre of the room. Body lithe and lean, taut with anticipation. She approached, naked hips swinging like a belly dancer, the last tantalising visage before the blindfold masked his eyes, heightening and honing his senses to keen, exquisite precision.”

Hermoine could hear the strain in her voice but she continued, determined to return the visual that he’d provided her with the day before.

“Her presence to him was simple and singular, the mere tip of a fingernail, a discriminating point that started at the apex of his shoulder before she trailed it down, caressing the contours of his musculature to the shadowed dimple of his elbow. His skin prickled. She was nowhere and everywhere.”

When her eyes flickered to his dark form, his broad shoulders appeared to be even more tense than usual.

“Suddenly his instep flared with the heat of her breath. Then the tickle of her tongue trickled upward from the arch of his sole, circling his ankle bone, to trail up the inside of his calf, sliding behind his knee before continuing up his inner thigh, a hot wet path that slithered groin-ward, homing in on the region that was beginning to throb with an intense, rising heat, rapidly becoming the sensory core of his being.”

She could feel herself starting to sweat and suddenly wished that the jolly fire in the grate would fuck off.

“She breathed lightly, a soft, fluttering trail from his inner thigh, across his twitching groin to his hip. He felt it as a crawling heat that seemed to radiate from his cock outward, desperate to capture her and draw her into the maelstrom that was brewing. She alighted with warm moist kisses on the curvature of his pelvis before moving slowly upward, her tongue flicking out to probe the straining muscles of his abdomen. She continued, placing kisses, tongue first, over the ridges of his ribcage until she reached his nipple.”

Hermione noted that his chopping had definitely become more erratic. The stalk slices didn’t look nearly as uniform.

“Her warm licks were suddenly replaced by a cooling blast which caused the tender nub of his nipple to tense and pucker before she slid away, rising to touch her tongue tip in the hollow just above his collar bone. Her wet muscle scored along the firm ridge toward his throat, his deep moan colliding with her lips, causing the vibrations of his larynx to buzz through them as she arrived at his fluttering pulse, sliding her nose up to the juncture with his jaw. Her fingers crawled up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair, pulling him forward before her mouth clamped onto his earlobe, sucking and teasing it with her tongue before she whispered into his ear, 'I want to suck your cock until you come down my throat.'”

Snape’s head suddenly jolted backwards and she heard a quiet intake of breath. Hermione smirked inwardly. She was definitely getting to him. She might not have the voice but she was pretty fucking confident she had the words.

“Suddenly she was gone. His entire body tingled from her ministrations, aching from both the loss of her touch and the inspirited anticipation of more to come. He hissed. She had returned. With ice.”

Hermione indulged in a dramatic pause. She was somewhat surprised to discover that she was quite enjoying her newfound power in words.

“As the hot cavern of her mouth closed over one nipple, she slicked the other with a slippery, ice-cold cube. The sensory dissonance set his nerves on edge and he only just managed to avoid reaching out and grabbing her. It was, after all, a condition of their arrangement. He hadn’t yet been given permission. She alternated between icing his nipples and licking them until they sang with an exquisite pain that was only surpassed by the forceful throbbing of his cock, that heat-seeking missile that was eagerly targeting her with its one good eye.”

He snorted. Although he tried to cover it up by rifling loudly through a collection of metal implements beside his chopping board.

“She locked her lips onto his, pushing the cube of ice from her mouth onto his tongue. She continued to lick it and as it melted they both drank down the warm broth of water and saliva. As she thrust her tongue deeper into him, she grasped his buttocks with both hands and slowly scored her fingernails across them, leaving welts. He groaned into her mouth. She pulled one cheek wide and slid the index finger of her other hand down until it sat at his puckered opening which undulated against the pad of her fingertip. Pushing deeper with her tongue, she prodded at his opening with her finger, stretching the tight ring of muscle as she forced his lips open around her plunging tongue.”

That was definitely a moan. Definitely. What else could it be? She glanced at him but he managed to look surprisingly deadpan. Time to bring out the big guns.

“Releasing him, she stepped back. Then began circling him, admiring her handiwork. His lips were flushed and swollen from their crushing exchange. His chest heaved like he had just gone three rounds in the ring. And she suspected from his response to her probing that he would be more than up for three rounds in the ring.”

Another quiet snort, barely smothered.

“His pale backside was scored by ten bold red lines. Her mark. Delicious. She finally stopped in front of his magnificent cock, straining for attention, the weeping head belying his hunger, salivating in preparation for her.”

He cleared his throat loudly and started dumping the stalks into a bowl with far less care than she could ever recall. She watched in surprise. He’d always admonished them for treating potion ingredients with such disdain.

“Stepping closer, she took him by the hand and brought his fingers to her mouth where she sucked one, and then two inside. The sensation of her warm slick walls suctioning onto his digits as her tongue slithered over and between them was the most erotic thing he had ever felt. That was until she suddenly pulled them out, lowered them and inserted them into her cunt.”

Snape sounded like he was choking. He finished with a loud cough and frowned deeply, staring intently at a piece of parchment on the bench as if held the answers to all of the mysteries of the wizarding world.

“She thrust his fingers into her lubricious slot, deeper and deeper, clenching her muscles so he could feel what she was going to do to his cock. ‘Feel that?’ she said. ‘My pussy is dripping for you. It’s desperate for your cock—to be punished by it for all of this teasing. It wants your cock to teach it a lesson. It wants to submit to you and take whatever it deserves.’ Then she pulled him from her with a wet slurp and brought his fingers back to her lips, licking her creamy juices from them with slow, languorous strokes until he was groaning again, his pre-cum dripping in viscous strings onto the floorboards. When he was clean, she leaned close and whispered to him, ‘Your turn.’”

Hermione placed the parchment on Snape’s desk and looked at him expectantly. He was furiously agitating a purple solution in a flask and, judging by the rhythmic thrusts of the stirring rod, he wasn’t thinking much about the solution.

“Well?”

He didn’t respond.

“I wouldn’t mind some feedback.” She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

He pursed his lips, continuing to stir. “Forgive me if I’m too engrossed in my work to listen to what I imagine was highly inappropriate smut.”

Her eyebrows shot up. His ‘Seduction’ contribution had been highly erotic. Just because her language was more explicit, it didn’t mean they weren’t on a par. And if he had been too engrossed to listen, how could he judge? She stared at him hard, suspecting that her words had done to him exactly what his had done to her.

“What are you doing?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Working.”

“Can I see?”

“Not really.”

Hermione stood and sauntered toward him. Oh look, a deceptive piece of brickwork on the floor. If one were clumsy, one could easily trip on that and . . .

Hermione lunged forward, falling into him. He only just managed to turn and catch her before she slammed into the bench.

And there it is! She wondered how he intended to explain the rock hard object amply filling his trousers. What could it be? A ladle? A pretty good sized ladle too. She’d have to adjust her fantasy to accommodate this new . . . discovery.

Barely concealing a smirk she slowly pushed back from him. “I’m sorry, Professor, I must have tripped.”

She went to turn away and he caught her by the wrist.

“That’s a very dangerous game you’re playing, Miss . . . Granger,” he growled, glaring at her.

She imagined herself looking up at him as the seductive ‘wet woman’ and murmuring, ‘Danger happens to be my middle name’ but fortunately realised that Hermione Danger Granger sounded fucking stupid.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she replied innocently.

He sneered down at her. “You may claim the conquest of my arousal after a few titillating words but having the courage to back that up with equivalent action is an entirely . . . different . . . thing.”

She felt consumed, drowning in the blackness of his eyes. “Perhaps you've forgotten," she breathed. "You are speaking to a Gryffindor."

He snorted derisively. “A Gryffindor’s idea of courage pales into insignificance compared to that of a Slytherin in such matters. There would be little more left of you than a bundle of wilted feathers after enduring the sustained solicitations of . . . a serpent.”

She maintained eye contact. Looking up at him fearlessly, defiantly.

Finally he shook his head before tossing her wrist aside with a sigh. “What do we have next?”

“Oral sex,” she emphasised each word.

He looked away but she could distinctly hear his muttered response, “Fuck.”
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An Accidental Affair *Complete*

An Accidental Affair Complete