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 9

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 9 ~ Taken Hostage

"I'd like to make a healer's bag to keep with me while I'm here," Hermione told the dark wizard. "I need a bottle of pain potion, healing potion and a Bezoar. And your best potions, not the standard stuff. I know for a fact most Potions masters and mistresses have their own special brews. That's what I want."

Snape studied her. She wanted quite a bit, didn't she? But the witch was right. He did have special potent brews he used himself to cure much of the damage he suffered from Voldemort. A Bezoar would be simple. He had a box full of them.

"My brews are quite . . . expensive, Miss Granger. Quite expensive and take a great deal of time to create," he purred at her.

She smirked.

"Any Slytherin worth his salt would say that, true or not," she replied evenly. "I want these things but they aren't worth as much as full access to me. I'm saving that for when you really help me. Like, getting me out of Gryffindor. I haven't been there more than two hours and I'm ready to commit Hari-Kari," she told him.

Snape frowned at her. He had hoped to fuck the witch. He hadn't fucked in forever.

"Suppose I demand full access," he asked her.

"Then, I just go back to Gryffindor house very disappointed and consider what could have been a pleasurable association over. If you aren't willing to meet me half of the way, what's the sense of it? Maybe I'll ask Flitwick for help. The one in our world loves eating pussy. I bet this one's not any different and it's less work for me," Hermione replied smoothly.

"Our Professor Flitwick is an upstanding professor of this institution. He wouldn't do it," Snape told her.

Hermione gave him a rather dirty smile.

"Are you absolutely sure about that? I can be . . . very persuasive," the witch said.

Snape studied her, her hair, her make-up, her bearing. This Hermione was quite alluring, pretty and she definitely gave off a very sexual vibe. Maybe Flitwick would indulge himself, especially once he knew in her world it was something acceptable. Flitwick loved other cultures after all. And the wizard could brew, although he was the Charms teacher.

"What are you offering?" Snape asked her.

Hermione stood up and backed up to his desk, then hopped up on it, sliding far back so there was space in front of her. She kicked off her trainers, pulled off her socks and pulled her robes up, revealing a pair of comfortable jeans underneath as Snape watched her with more than a bit of interest. But other than baring her feet and jeans, she did nothing else.

"I thought we'd start out with a bit of 'Handjob Hostage,'" she said with a wicked smile.

Snape frowned slightly. Handjob hostage? He'd never heard of it.

"What is that?" he asked the witch, feeling a little rise

"It's kind of a game. Want to play?" she asked him, her brown eyes hot.

"I don't do 'games,'" Snape replied, although he started to approach her.

"You'll like this one, trust me. If you don't . . . we'll stop," she replied.

Snape walked up to the desk, his dark eyes resting on her face.

"Very well. What do I have to do?" he asked the naughty witch.

"Open your robes, turn around and hop up on the desk and sit between my legs with your back to me. I'll take care of the rest," she told him.

Snape unbuttoned his robes, revealing his rather thin, pale chest, belly and briefs. The professor was very thin, but hard and sinewy, with no extra skin or fat. Hermione studied the scars on his belly. She knew what kind of scars those were. Whip scars.

"I thought they didn't do torture here," she said to him in a low voice as he turned around and hopped up on the desk, sliding back so he rested against her.

"I'm a special case," he said shortly, feeling her wrap her legs around him so the heels of her feet rested on the inside of his thighs, locking him against her. One of her arms wrapped lightly around his throat.

"Handjob hostage," she breathed, reaching into his briefs and pulling out his semi-rigid cock. She pulled back the foreskin and ran her thumb over the leaking head, smearing the murky pre-cum over his organ for lubrication.

Snape let out a groan.

"No noise!" she suddenly hissed, clapping her hand over his mouth. "Now, you just take this!"

She slapped his cock lightly, then grasped the shaft tightly.

Shit. Snape couldn't help but let out another little groan at her roughness. He'd never been treated like this before, and it turned him on greatly. His cock swelled to immense proportions in her grip.

"You like it," Hermione breathed in his ear, starting to work her hand up and down his shaft, corkscrewing it deliciously when she reached the top, swirling it over his sensitive head, which was leaking more now, providing the lubrication she needed as she worked her fist, Snape's head falling back against her shoulder in pleasure, her hand still covering his mouth.

Hermione worked his full length, first fast, then slow, then faster again, the wizard's hips jerking and his hisses and groans muffled against her hand.

"Shut up!" she told him, grasping the head of his cock tightly, then slapping it again, grabbing it by the base and beating it hard against his belly.

"Shuft!" Snape cursed against her hand, which tightened, her hand slipping down to his balls, and feeling them tightening.

"Oh, so you're about to come are you? No. You're not," she whispered to him, catching the head of his cock and squeezing it hard.

"Arrgh!" Snape groaned, the delicious urge to ejaculate curling around his balls with nowhere to go. He shuddered as the urge subsided, but not for long as the talented witch began to work his cock again, fast, slow, twist, squeeze, slap, bring him back to the edge again, Snape whimpering against her hand.

"Oh no, professor, not yet," she hissed, once again clasping his glistening head and squeezing it, trapping the urge again. Snape's eyes rolled up into his head. She kept up the exquisite torture for more than twenty minutes, Snape bucking against her as she kept her legs wrapped around him and his body pulled back. She released his mouth a couple of times to let him whimper and groan, waiting for him to say the inevitable.

"Let . . . me . . . come," he groaned.

"No. You'll come when I say you'll come," she snarled at him, clapping her hand back over his mouth and once again grasping the head of his cock, which was so swollen with blood now, it was crimson and angry-looking.

Hermione peered over the wizard's shoulder, down at his pulsing, glistening tool, so lubricated, its juices were pooling on the edge of her hand, which made little squishing noises as she worked it back and forth, licking the wizard's ear now, adding to his torturous pleasure. Snape was more than ready to let go.

"Say please," Hermione breathed, kissing his ear and running her tongue around it, loosening her hand over his mouth.

"Please," Snape breathed, lost to his desire to release, to be set free from his imprisonment.

Hermione focused, working her hand quickly, listening to the wizard's breathing becoming labored and harsh, his hips jerking spasmodically and then.

"Arrrrghmmumph!" Snape cried, Hermione clamping her hand over his mouth mid-yell as the wizard spurted, his eyes rolling up into his head, pressing back against her as she tightened her legs, holding him in place as his cock bounced, the wizard groaning "yes, yes," against her hand as his climax eased and he relaxed. Hermione released his mouth and let her hand trail over his thin chest as she caressed his cock a few more times, bringing him to a close.

"That was nice, wasn't it?" she purred into his ear.

Snape caught his breath and let his head rest against her shoulder heavily, his dark eyes closed and his body relaxed.

"Definitely one of the better games I've played," he responded, rewarded by her naughty giggle as he rested against her, spent.

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After cleaning up, Snape and Hermione retired to his private study, where the witch asked him if he had any wine. He did, and prepared her a glass. She sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and stared into the as she drank it down. The wizard made himself a Firewhiskey and joined her, sitting in the armchair next to hers, a small table between them. He was silent as usual as he sipped his drink thoughtfully.

"Too bad you aren't at my Hogwarts. You'd fit in there I bet," Hermione said idly.

Snape didn't respond.

"Want to tell me about those scars?" she asked him, still looking into the flames.

"No," he said.

Hermione's eyes shifted toward him.

"Mysterious too. That turns me on," she told him.

"Everything seems to turn you on, Miss Granger. I doubt you have an 'off' switch," he replied.

Hermione chuckled.

"You're just a port in the storm, Professor. Something familiar in an unfamiliar world, that's all. I assure you I am very selective about whose cock I jerk," she said, swirling her wine in her glass. "Have I earned my healing bag?"

Snape considered. She said she wouldn't have sex with him already, and he felt she'd stick to her guns about it. She was manipulative and he doubted she changed her mind easily.

"You've earned the Bezoar and the pain potion," he answered. "My healing potion is extremely valuable and in short supply."

Hermione turned her head to look at him, his hawk-like profile flickering in the firelight.

"I bet that has a lot to do with those scars. Some are relatively new. I know scars," she said to him.

Snape didn't reply.

"I only want a small amount. I imagine it's very powerful. Three or four ounces will do. It's unlikely I'm going to need it with these marshmallows, but, I'd rather have it than not," Hermione said. "The Poppy here might be a decent medi-witch, but I'm a product of my environment. Some things are just ingrained, like not going to the infirmary."

Snape nodded. He knew all about conditioning.

"I might be able to spare three ounces, given the proper motivation. No more hand jobs, however," he bartered, turning his head to look at her now, his black eyes glittering.

Hermione quirked her mouth at him.

"I knew you'd say that," she said, "how about a blow job? I give excellent blow jobs. Very wet and nasty."

Snape looked back at the fireplace.

"Wet and nasty is acceptable," he replied, finishing his Firewhiskey.

Hermione wanted another glass of wine, and since he needed a bit more time to recover from being held hostage, he supplied it and returned to his seat, amused by the witch complaining about the way their Hermione lived.

"All she has is white cotton knickers, bras and sensible shoes. And not a damn sex toy in the place," Hermione complained bitterly. "She has no make up, and some no named shampoo she uses. I didn't even see conditioner. No wonder she has the frizzies. Do you think you could throw in a bit of lab time for me? I need to make up a batch of shampoo and conditioner or I'm going to look just like her."

Hermione shuddered.

"That can be arranged," Snape said, not wanting the witch to lose her attractiveness.

If she started looking like the old Hermione, he might not be able to get it up for her. The Gryffindor Hermione Granger did absolutely nothing for him but annoy him. Probably because many of his tortures at the Dark Lord's hands were because of her brilliance. This Hermione was blameless.

"What are you going to do for make-up?" he asked her.

"Oh, that won't be a problem. I'll just ask some of those eager-to-please housemates of mine and I'll probably be buried in the stuff," she replied. "Gods, they're insufferable. How do they stand all the niceness? It feels like . . . like I'm in some kind of cult or something."

Snape smirked and shook his head.

"I'm working on a solution for you, Miss Granger," he told her.

Hermione stared at him. She'd thought he couldn't do anything about her being placed in Gryffindor house.

"You are?" she asked him.

Snape nodded.

"Yes, but I still have to see how you interact with my Slytherins. There is bad blood between our Miss Granger and my charges. She's an insufferable know-it-all and has done a few things to some of my students."

"You mean, like hexing them?" she asked Snape.

"Hexing, punching, things of that nature," he replied.

Hermione smiled.

"Good for her. I'm glad she's not a total skidmark," the witch said.

"No, she's shown quite a bit of Slytherinish qualities. She's definitely a rule-breaker," he said.

"So, there's hope even in this universe," Hermione stated, finishing her wine and setting the glass down on the small table, flicking her eyes at the wizard's loins. He was sitting with his robes open, his briefs visible. She watched as his cock pulsed and he turned his head toward her.

"So it seems, Miss Granger, so it seems," he purred.

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A/N: Whoa! Better than coffee in the morning. Lol. Thanks for reading.

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