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 58

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 58 ~ Dinner

Snape was a decent cook and for tonight’s meal he prepared a small beef roast with gravy, accompanied by roast potatoes, sweet peas and carrots. For dessert he made treacle tarts. He noticed Hermione seemed partial to them while at Hogwarts.

It wasn’t a fancy meal, but at least it met Hermione’s nutritional requirements for him. Besides, Hermione proved to be of such a frugal nature, Snape had a feeling that if he served anything extravagant, like prawns for example, he’d get a lecture. Tonight wasn’t the night for lectures. Simple was safer.

Over the months, Snape had added thirty pounds and was no longer the gaunt wizard of former times. He was still lean, but a healthy weight.

Snape showered and washed his hair thoroughly in anticipation of his night with Hermione. He was a bit nervous about engaging the young woman. This was the first time in his life that he was going to be with a witch that meant something to him, and it promised to be much different than his occasional dalliances with prostitutes or drunken women he’d picked up in some pub.

He loved Hermione and much of his worry was that he might become too passionate. The gods knew that despite his appearance of control, there were evenings where he wanted to throw control out of the turret window and let Hermione’s desire take him over. It had been a rather desperate fight on his part, although Hermione was never the wiser.

He would have to maintain control, to think. He couldn’t just let animal lust take him over. What he felt for Hermione was more than that, and he wanted to be sure she knew it. The “L” word hadn’t come up, but she would need to hear it from him tonight, and she would. His greatest hope was that her feelings were reciprocal—that she would say she loved him as well.

Not since Lily Evans had Severus felt such a strong desire for a witch, and that had ended painfully. Actually, it hadn’t ended until Voldemort’s departure. Snape’s loyalty to a deceased witch that didn’t love him back led him to protect her son, Harry, as if he were his own. But Harry wasn’t his own—he was the son of his nemesis, James Potter.

It had been a twisted existence, and the Potions master often told himself he was insane during those dark times, but despite those feelings, he continued until the threat to Harry Potter was past. He would have died for him, if necessary.

If not for the appearance and engagement with alternate Hermione, Snape might have continued to pine for Lily Potter and not been open to the possibility of a decent relationship with this world’s Hermione. True, his relationship with her counterpart was one of opportunity, but that wasn’t the case with the Gryffindor witch.

Hermione was the first person in his life who truly cared for him, and showed it fiercely. She was protective, opinionated and outspoken. She sincerely wished to be with him. Her affections were real and affecting. Anytime Snape took Hermione into his arms and her lips met his, it was electric, something that thrilled and swelled his once cold heart.

So this was what happiness felt like.

Now tonight would be the consummation, when they came together physically. Snape felt since he was the one with more sexual experience, it was up to him to make sure it would be a good experience for Hermione. He didn’t want to drive her off. He wanted her happy and satisfied with him in every way. So it wouldn’t be sex as usual. There would have to be restraint, at least in the beginning.

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As she readied herself to spend the night with Severus, Hermione was feeling a bit of her own performance anxiety. Snape had been with her counterpart, and Hermione had no doubt that she had been quite talented and experienced concerning sex. Hermione’s experience with Gryffindor Snape had been good, but once she deconstructed it, she found it very one-sided. He had handled everything and basically dominated her in bed. She hadn’t really done anything but be there and experience the pleasure. She was sure if it had been her counterpart, she would have been much more aggressive.

And there was the concern. What if she wasn’t’ good? What if Severus found her lacking when it came to intimacy? What if he wanted her to do something she’d never done? Would she freeze up? Would she say no? And would he take it as a rejection or believe she was frigid? The wizard she was in love with had experience. She didn’t. How could they be true equals if she couldn’t keep up with him in the bedroom?

Then she remembered something Gryffindor Snape had told her before they had sex:

There are women who men take and forget, and then there are women they take and can’t get out of their heads. The women who are forever remembered and longed for.

And he had told her the secret to being one of those women. But she couldn’t remember it exactly. Luckily, she had a small Pensieve, perfect for small memories. After sifting through several bags, Hermione located the small blue bowl, sat down on the edge of her bed and quickly removed her memories with her wand tip.

She took a deep breath, then stared down into the swirling silver liquid. She found herself once again in Gryffindor Snape’s bedroom, only this time not as a participant, but an observer. It was a bit jarring to see herself and the alternate Snape lying naked in bed together, but she stoically sucked it up and got through it, listening intently to his advice.

In the end, “Turnabout is fair play” was the gist of it.

Hermione let out a sigh as she exited the Pensieve. Alternate Snape had been a wonderful sexual partner physically, but Hermione felt he had left her empty emotionally. And he had. He felt no connection to her at all afterwards. It had been “business as usual.”

But the advice he gave her concerning men was something she could carry with her all her days.

At least he had given her that much.

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Snape had just set the main meal out on the table when Hermione arrived, knocking on his door. She had let herself into the shop and walked the narrow flight of stairs up to his apartment. Her heart was racing and she did her best to appear calm.

Snape drew a deep breath and opened the door, looking down at the woman who moved him more than any other in existences. Hermione was dressed in a nice, blue robe and her wild hair was suitably tamed for the occasion, having more curl than bushiness. She had made herself up demurely with just a touch of eye makeup and lipstick, and had a small carryall bag in her hand, which Snape quickly took.

”Punctual as ever,” he said softly, kissing her lightly then escorting her in and closing the door.

Hermione watched as he set the carryall on the floor near the sofa. She felt as if she couldn’t move as he turned back toward her. He looked rather concerned since she hadn’t spoken at all.

”Are you all right, Hermione?” he asked her, catching one of her hands. It was almost as cold as ice. The wizard placed another warm, pale hand around it, rubbing gently.

”My gods, you feel as if you’ve been out in the dead of winter. Come, sit down at the table,” Snape said solicitously, guiding Hermione to the dinner spread and pulling out her chair. She sat down rather stiffly.

Snape cast a small warming spell on the food to keep it from going cold while he made Hermione a strong cup of hot tea to warm and relax her. From his little spice/potions rack he added just a touch of mint-flavored Replenishing potion to shore her up a bit. He pressed the cup into her hand.

”You take your time and drink that,” he told her, sitting down across from Hermione.

She robotically brought the cup to her lips as Snape began to tell her about all of the people who kept knocking on the shop door during the evening, and how he finally had the shop rise up from the ground to keep the curious from disturbing him.

”Actually, the shop is up on two legs right now,” he told her as she began to relax.

”Is it?” she asked him, speaking her first words since arriving. “I didn’t feel any movement.”

Snape smirked at her.

”That’s part of its magic. Nothing inside is at all disturbed when it moves. It could be running top speed and unless we were at the windows, we wouldn’t know it.”

Both of Hermione’s eyebrows rose at this revelation.

”So, it could run away with us and we wouldn’t know? That’s not exactly comforting, Severus,” she said, looking around the apartment and out of one of the windows. They weren’t moving now.

Snape chuckled.

”It won’t go anywhere unless I order it, Hermione. Don’t worry, we won’t suddenly be carried off, I promise you,” he said with a smirk.

Feeling more relaxed by his conversation and the spiked tea, Hermione looked at dinner, then up at him.

”You cooked this?” she asked him.

”Yes,” he replied shortly, watching as Hermione cut into the roast and inserted a piece into her mouth. She chewed critically, then swallowed and smiled at him.

”That’s rather good,” she said, cutting into a roast potato and swirling a piece in the rich brown gravy made from scratch.

”Of course it’s good,” Snape replied, cutting and spearing a piece of meat himself. “I am a Potions master after all. If I can brew potions which require proper measures of ingredients and precise heating, I can certainly cook savory meals.”

He popped the sliver of meat into his mouth and chewed, arching an eyebrow at Hermione, who smiled at him.

”Such modesty,” she said sarcastically, eating a few peas. They were tender, sweet and flavorful.

Snape’s big nose wrinkled a bit.

”Ah, Modesty,” he purred at her. “The gentle art of enhancing your charm by pretending not to be aware of it. I’m afraid that’s not me. Charm be damned. If you’ve got it, you’ve got it.”

Hermione laughed out loud.

”You’re incorrigible,” she told him, totally relaxed now. Snape’s normalcy was like a balm to her. They began to talk about future plans for the shop over the meal, Hermione’s excitement more than evident.

”We’re going to have to put out monthly schedules that give the dates and times the shop will be in what town. It’s going to take a bit of work to get it right, because customers will need to be able to pick up their orders, unless we provide owl post service. I’m sure we can get a good deal on it,” she chattered as Snape listened.

”We can add our own owlery,” the wizard said shortly as Hermione’s eyes lit up.

”Yes! That’s a wonderful idea! And owls need little feeding as they prefer to hunt their own food when possible,” she replied as Snape retrieved dessert. Treacle tarts and cold milk. Hermione looked at the tarts, impressed.

”You made these too?” she asked him.

Snape nodded, then said, “My mother’s recipe.”

Hermione fell silent for a moment. She knew his terrible story of how his Muggle father killed his mother, then himself. She never imagined there were normal times when Eileen Snape baked for her family. One usually didn’t think about such things when there was such tragedy. She reverently took a bite of the tart, savoring the flaky pastry and sweet blend of oats, ginger, lemon and golden syrup.

”It’s absolutely delicious, Severus,” Hermione said, drinking some milk.

”It was my favorite dessert as a boy,” he replied, his black eyes a bit distant.

Hermione looked at him sympathetically, knowing he had few pleasant memories of his childhood. Most of them seemed to revolve around Harry’s mother, when they were friends. They had been very close at one time, Lily helping him with charms and Severus helping her with potions. He had told Hermione their friendship ended abruptly, but never told her exactly what happened.

The rest of his life had been awful, although he never complained about it. But, he did show Hermione some of the scars on his back when she felt them through his robes one evening when they were snogging. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his robes, turned and pulled them down over his shoulder, showing the criss-crossed scars on his pale upper back. Hermione had cried when she saw them, and clutched him as if he were going to melt away.

”Don’t cry, Hermione,” Snape had murmured, drawing his robes back up again, then turning and taking her into his arms, stroking her hair gently as she sobbed. No one had ever shown such empathy for what he’d gone through for the Greater Good, and it endeared Hermione to him even more. “What’s done is done, and I don’t have to suffer any longer now that the Dark Lord has moved on.”

Hermione then railed against Dumbledore for several minutes, demanding to know why he didn’t do more to protect him. Snape explained there was nothing that could be done without arousing suspicion. Hermione refused to believe that, and her opinion of the deceased Headmaster was significantly lowered, despite the fact that Albus had done the best he could considering the circumstances.

In fact, he had just been about to go and retrieve Marvalo Gaunt’s ring, which was hidden in the ruins of his home. It was a gold ring with the Peverell coat of arms etched into a black stone. Albus believed it held one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. But he never got a chance to put his plans into action. Destiny had another larger plan this time.

Snape and Hermione finished their meal, collected the dishes and washed them Muggle style, a huge water fight breaking out that soaked the both of them and ended in quite a hot snogging session as Snape attempted to kiss Hermione into submission.

The struggle for domination ended in the living room with both of them on the sofa. Hermione won the struggle, lying atop the wizard and snogging him until he breathlessly gave in, then letting him up. Snape pulled at his wet robes, then pulled out his wand to dry the both of them off. He dried his own robes first, then pointed his wand at Hermione, who suddenly shook her head.

”No, I’ll just take them off,” she said to the wizard, then stood up. She began to work at her fasteners.

Snape watched her, expecting her usual t-shirt and jeans beneath her robes. Hermione unfastened her robes and took a deep breath—

”It’s now or never,” she thought to herself as she whipped her robes open and let them slide down her arms and to the floor.

Snape stiffened as he looked at her. She was dressed in a short, Slytherin green silk nightie that stopped mid thigh and clung to her like a second skin, flaring at her hips. Her bare shoulders were visible, thin straps holding it on. Her cleavage was mouth-wateringly displayed.

All he could do was blink. He certainly hadn’t expected this.

”I—I thought I’d take some initiative,” Hermione said softly. She was still in her socks and trainers, but it did nothing to take away from the effect as far as Snape was concerned.

”Let’s hear it for initiative,” the wizard replied, before catching her hand and pulling her into his lap. Hermione gasped as he yanked her feet up and proceeded to remove her trainers and socks, dropping them to the floor, then gathering her into his arms.

”You are—exquisite,” Snape breathed, covering her mouth with his own.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.
 

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