The Burning Pen

Through the Looking Glass
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 23

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 23 ~ A Dose of Reality 1

Once again, Hermione was lifted to the heights by the Transfiguration teacher’s foreplay. Normally, extra credit didn’t take this long, not much preparation necessary. Students came to him ready to do what needed to be done. To be honest, he could have engaged Hermione quicker than he was doing, and might have if he had someone following, but he was free for the rest of the night. Besides, it was rather delightful experiencing her responses as he kissed and licked her body.

Snape was still a teacher, and felt she should expect the best treatment from a wizard she engaged. As her first, he could instill this expectancy in her, hoping that she would never accept anything less from a lover. He could teach her to be demanding and a bit selfish when it came to sex.

Hermione arched and sighed under the wizard, particularly when his soft mouth moved over her breasts and belly, and she caressed him as well, feeling his muscles bunch and flex under her hand, alive, strong . . . sensual. His fingers tapped her skin, finding erotic zones, his lips following, pressed to her throat, her wrists, even her armpits, which tickled. He encouraged her to touch his cock, feel its weight, girth and hardness, as well as his balls, which were cool and delicate in her palm. He didn’t encourage her to perform oral sex however. Maybe another time if she were willing.

Hermione gasped as the wizard turned her over to her stomach and rested his cock on her buttocks, sliding it gently through the cleft several times until she was squirming, the ache at her core becoming more intense as he kissed her shoulders, then followed her spine with his lips, running his tongue over the small of her back and gently biting at her buttocks, which were soft and full like twin pillows.

”Oh, Professor,” Hermione groaned, her voice full of need as he turned her back over, looking down at her flushed and heated face. “I’m so ready for this.”

He could smell the sweet, clean musk of her arousal now.

”Let me check,” he breathed, kissing her mouth before sliding down her body and finding her core, pressing his lips to it and tasting her juices. They were sweet, earthy . . . fresh. Rare as well, and with Hermione crying out with pleasure, he held her thighs firmly and drank at that still undiscovered fountain, enjoying himself immensely. There was something that flavored the young witch that he found compelling.

Her innocence. He gently assailed her softness with his lips, teeth, tongue and nose until Hermione was nearly thrashing, her small hands tugging at his hair as she keened, Snape bringing her to her first oral climax and drinking down the richness that leaked around her unbroken mantle. His cock felt as heavy as a leaden pole as he tenderly licked away all the excess from her inner thighs, Hermione falling still and panting, a far-away look in her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. It was as if the world itself had lost all substance and become nothing more than a dream. It was the man kissing his way back up her body that was the true reality. She hadn’t known contact with a wizard could be like this, so overwhelming, so urgent. It was as if her entire body were hungry, starving for only what he could deliver. Her skin was aflame, every nerve ending flared and firing for his touch. She felt beyond naked, as if everything inside her was exposed and wanting. She wanted to feel him on her, inside her, moving her, reaching her.

Helplessly she whispered this against his mouth, not caring how she sounded or what he might think of her, need overpowering, thought, modesty, embarrassment . . . anything that might have kept her silent only moments before.

He murmured something back. She couldn’t register his words, only the sound of his voice, deep, silken, beautiful as his body shifted and he rested his hardness against her apex, slowly rubbing it back and forth, the delicious sensation making her body quake, her hands helpless clutching at his buttocks, pulling against him, feeling how slick his body was with sweat as she felt him flex.

”Now, Miss Granger,” Snape purred, his black eyes drinking her need in. Yes, she was a passionate little witch, the kind a man would remember and want again and again, particularly when she came into her own. No, she didn’t inspire the darkness in him that her counterpart did, the maddening urge to possess and punish even as he took his pleasure. But she inspired tenderness, a desire to complete her, to take her where she wanted to go.

He adjusted her shifting body as best he could, placing her in the Missionary position and lifting himself up on one hand as her brown eyes rested on him, liquid, needful and questioning all at once. What a look it was. He parted her thighs and pulled back a bit so he could rest his thick head against her core, and the thin membrane that separated them. Hermione rocked under him, tilting her pelvis reflexively, moaning as she felt him press against her, raising his upper body. He stared down at her, feeling her softness giving slightly against the pressure of his rigid member.

”Wrap your arms around my neck, Miss Granger,” he said to her softly. “Hold on to me.”

Hermione did, her mouth parted and moist as she stared up at him, totally taken by her own desire. Snape took a moment to kiss her softly, drawing back slowly and meeting her eyes. Hermione felt him tense for a moment as he held his breath. Then he drove forward, breaking the flesh and embedding his cock deep inside the witch as she let out a shuddering cry, her arms tightening, partially pulling herself up from the bed as her warm and softness wrapped around him tightly, clutching and sucking at the hard pole of flesh embedded in her body.

His penetration had hurt, but Hermione had never felt anything more right as the wizard rested inside her, holding very still and lowering himself on her body, his mouth finding hers again and kissing her tenderly. He didn’t pull thrust, but pressed inside her, continuing foreplay for several minutes, connected to the witch intimately under she began her own jerky motions wanting more.

And Snape gave her what she wanted, giving her easy, tender strokes as he kissed her and caressed her, crooning his pleasure as her body caressed and bathed him, those soft, inner walls sliding around him as he shifted, making sure to stimulate her clit, Hermione moaning with pleasure as he moved inside her, driving gently into her ache, which was intensifying, becoming sharper, stronger, pulling her downward, making her react with more violence, thrusting upward with more hunger. Snape read this and lifted himself up on his hands and began to give her the power she needed to take her and him over the edge, thrusting inside her deeply, but not too deeply. He had a big cock and could probably cause her real pain. He found the depth and strength that she liked and applied himself, jerking her body faster and faster, listening to her voice become shriller and shriller, wincing a bit as she dug her nails into the small of his back in reaction.

They flowed and rippled together as one body, point and counterpoint, sweat streaming, wetting the sheets beneath them, Hermione’s cries rising and falling rhythmically as the wizard on top of her gave her what she needed and received his own reward when she let out a cry and melted around him, her orgasm flowing hot and rich over his cock like magma.

”Yessss!” he hissed, letting go, letting pleasure tighten inside him then explode, rushing down his spine, through his body and outward, shuddering as he plunged deep inside Hermione, filling her with his seed, dropping to her body with a satisfied groan and kissing her mouth as she shuddered under him. They lay against each other, feeling their racing hearts slow, the professor caressing her hair gently.

”One hundred points, Miss Granger,” he breathed against her temple with a sigh, “and twenty-five more for the shower.”

Hermione barely registered this as she lay comfortable under his weight, feeling him deflating inside her. Gods, that had been amazing.

After about ten minutes, Snape rolled off her and on to his back, looking up at the ceiling.

”That was quite pleasurable for me, Miss Granger. I hope it was for you as well,” he said to the witch.

Pleasurable? It had been . . . wonderful. He was wonderful. Hermione looked at him.

”It was wonderful,” she said to him softly. She moved closer to kiss his cheek. The wizard stiffened a little but allowed it. Still, the session was over now. It was clear that the witch wanted to “cuddle” as she shifted closer to him.

Cuddling wasn’t allowed.

Snape was trying to figure out a way to tell Hermione this, when there was a tinging sound, originating from the dresser. Snape quickly sat up in the bed and slid out of it.

”That’s for me,” he said, walking over to the dresser and picking up a two-way mirror. He stared into it.

”Severus Snape,” he said.

The image of a woman formed in the glass. She had red hair, blue eyes and a lovely full mouth. She quirked her lips at him

”Hey lover-boy,” she purred at him.

”Triska!” Snape replied, clearly delighted.

Hermione sat up in the bed, listening as the naked wizard talked to another woman in the mirror. She felt . . . forgotten as he picked up his wand and wordlessly Scourgified himself.

”So, have you finished with your nine o’clock?” the witch asked him.

”Yes, just now,” he replied, picking up his boxers with one hand and stepping into them as Hermione watched, feeling a bit cold inside. She could hear the woman clearly.

”So how was it, popping a cherry?” she asked him with a smile.

”It was good,” he replied. “She has a lot of potential. Very passionate for an inexperienced witch.”

”Too bad she wasn’t the one you really wanted to get at,” Triska said, “but you can take your frustrations out on me and Deidre when you come home this weekend. Maybe I’ll glamour myself.”

Snape chuckled, then walked into the bathroom, collecting Hermione’s things as he talked to his lover. He brought them back to her, placing them on the bed.

”You can get dressed,” he said, flicking his wand at her and cleaning her up, then walking back and retrieving his housecoat and slippers, putting them on and walking out into his study.

Hermione sat in the bed for a moment, then slowly climbed out of it, and began to dress . . . . the feeling of connection and contentment . . . gone.

As wonderful as sex had been with the wizard, she could clearly see it meant very little to him. As far as the Head of Gryffindor house went, it was business as usual. Pleasant business, but business just the same.

Now fully dressed, Hermione walked into the study to find the wizard sitting behind the desk, still talking in the mirror while wiping the laminated parchment clean with a damp cloth, removing all the check marks he had placed there earlier. He put it in the top drawer and looked up at Hermione with a smile.

”I’ll be right with you,” he said to the witch, then, “Triska, I have to go. I’ll see you and Deidre Friday night. Be ready, witch. It’s going to be a wild ride for the both of you.”

Triska’s laughter rang from the mirror.

”Good night, Severus. Love you.”

”Love you too,” he said.

The mirror returned to a regular reflection and he placed it on the desk, then rose and walked around it, approaching Hermione, who looked at him rather blankly as he smiled down at her.

”I’ve recorded your extra credit, Miss Granger,” he said to the witch, offering her a pass back to Gryffindor tower. “You did well your first time. Now, go directly to your house. Filch shouldn’t be a problem. Good night.”

”Good night,” Hermione said hollowly, turning and exiting the wizard’s quarters.

Snape stretched luxuriously, then headed for his own bedroom. He was relaxed and tired.

He’d be good for the next few days.

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Hermione walked the halls of Hogwarts in a kind of daze. Sex with the professor had felt so good. It seemed as if he really felt something for her, something meaningful. But, that mirror call proved that he didn’t. She felt like a patient he had seen or something, the way the woman asked if his “nine o’clock” was finished. Then, he even gave her a kind of evaluation of Hermione’s sexual performance.

Passionate for an inexperience witch.

There was another knot in her stomach now, one that had nothing to do with desire, or attraction. It was . . . regret. She had allowed herself to get caught up by her body’s urges and she really wasn’t ready for the reality that was bound to follow. As attracted as she was to this world’s Severus Snape, there was no hope of anything more with the wizard. It was clear he had a private life he was satisfied with, and any intimacy with students was just part of his job. Maybe a part that brought him pleasure, but it was within an established framework, with rules and limitations. He wasn’t invested in those he shared himself with.

And in this world, that was completely acceptable.

But in Hermione’s world . . . it stung.

Gods, she was so ready to go home now. Tonight’s encounter proved without a doubt, this wasn’t the world for her. She could never adapt to either the cruelty or the freedom. Every time she saw the professor now, she knew that it would hurt her heart. Unlike him, she had invested her emotions in their encounter; felt it was something special that happened between them.

The truth was . . . it wasn’t.

And the truth hurt.

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A/N: A very mixed chapter. I think it was important to show just how not made for this world Hermione is. She gave in to her urges and tried to get with the program and traditions. I think she turned to Snape because he was familiar and kind, a kind of port in the storm and it was easy to pretend he had some personal attraction to her. And he was kind in his way, and good to her. Patient, tender and so forth. But it was all within the structure of his culture. So while her physical experience with Snape was good, she was unprepared for the emotional wasteland that followed. In fact, our Hermione saw the AU Snape much like her counterpart originally saw our Snape, as a familiar port in a storm, a taste of home. Unfortunately, she was mistaken as well. Thanks for reading.

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