Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror

Chapter Two – The Family Man


Severus Snape was having a wonderful experience. In it, he was surrounded by light, and there was the sound of birdsong. He was lying on something soft and he felt…good! His semiconscious mind registered all this as novelties and decided… it must be a dream. He sighed and turned over.

The dream got better. There was a woman in the bed. Without even opening his eyes, he knew. And it had been ry lry long time, too damn long. He felt her hair against his face and he scooted his body a little closer. He didn’t want to open his eyes because then the dream might end. It would end soon enough. He inhaled deeply and relished the scent of clean fresh air. It had been a long time.

She was facing away from him and he molded himself to her backside. He pressed up against her bottom and ever so slowly took pleasure in the sensation of soft flesh against hard prick. He heard her begin to rouse and she wiggled her bum against him, just slightly.

Ah yes, he thought, yessss! And he kissed her neck. The taste of her skin was so sweet, so delightfully sweet.

“Hmm. Severus, randy again! And after last night.”

The dream was getting more interesting. He’d had nightmares this intricate… his mind veered away from them. He placed his hand on her plump, warm thigh. It was covered by soft cotton. Still he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to distract himself from receiving the sensations of smell and touch. He kissed her neck again and ran his tongue along her skin. Tasting her. Wanting her more now. The need was no longer languid, but was growing sharper and fierce.

His hand on her thigh brushed down and between her legs. She gave the lowest of moans and his prick jerked against her. He pulled up her nightgown and she rolled onto her back.

She was under him and he didn’t hesitate to pull up his nightshirt to nestle his cock between her legs. He held onto himself and inserted the tip between her lips sliding in ever so slowly and gently.

“Oh Sev.” The women under him started to breath quickly and she lifted up her pelvis to bring him more fully inside of her. He caught his breath at the sensation of his being fully sheathed inside her. He had to stop or it would be over and, more than anything, he didn’t want to wake up. He wanted this bliss to last.

He lay there quietly inside of her, but she took command using her internal muscles to squeeze him over and over. He was shocked by the action, couldn’t understand what she was doing, but suddenly he found himself cumming into her as she climaxed. It was as if she knew his body and how to control it. He felt confused by this and angry. It was his dream-- how dare she taker. r. He had wanted to make this last. His body finished shuddering and he allowed himself to collapse over her. He wanted to go sleep now. Take advantage of his post-coital stupor and hide from the reality that threatened him.

He rolled over and willed himself to let the somnolence to take over. He felt a cool, smooth hand drape itself over his forehead.

“Severus, are you ill, my love?” said the women.

“I need to sleep,” he said gruffly, unsure why the ejaculation hadn’t caused him to wake up as it usually did. Fleetingly, he wondered if he hadn’t gone mad.

“Something’s wrong,” she said. Snape thought he had to agree with her. Still it made him all the more determined to hide.

“Leave me alone!” and he pulled the sheet over his head. Reality was creeping back to him now. When he did wake up it would be to pain and cold. Torture and more pain. He had broken. He would have betrayed Potter, Dumbledore, Hogwarts, anyone, but no, they didn’t want that. The thought caused him to start to breath heavily and tremble. No, not to go back. Let him be dead, let him be mad as long as he didn’t go back.

The sheet was torn off of the bed and the woman straddled him, holding his shoulders. “Severus Snape, look at me now!” Her voice had an imperial quality, and it was vaguely familiar. He began to hyperventilate. What kind of dream would have one of his ex-students in it?

“I’m counting. One...”

Snape began to get angry. How dare she? First she controlled their sex together and now she was trying to control him.

He sat up so violently that she was thrown back against the bottom of the bed. He opened his eyes and glared at her.

“Satisfied?” he sneered.

“Oh, by Merlin’s beard,” she gasped. “Whoever you are, you are to return my husband immediately.” Suddenly she had her wand at his throat. He flinched and then he felt ashamed that he hadn’t seen that coming. He’d cuckolded some poor idiot, and of course now he’d get his balls hexed off.

“You didn’t seem to mind me a minute ago,” he gave a half-smile. He thought he recognized the girl as a friend of Potter’s. But she’d changed. She’d gone from a homely, scarecrow of a thing to quite a buxom lass.

“I will give you fifteen seconds to return him or…”

Just then there was a sound at the door and the woman got a frantic look. She put her wand hand under the sheet, and said in a low ominous voice, “Her name is Sarah. And she thinks the sun rises and sets on her Dad. You be very careful now.”

Snape looked at her innocently and spread his arms, showing empty hands. His whispered, “Of course, Madam. But don’t you think she’ll think it odd to find a strange man in her mother’s bed? Would you prefer I hide in the closet?”

“Are you mad? Severus, if you are careful she won’t know a thing. Just follow my lead,” she hissed. She undid the ward on the door and a small child ran in. Her hair was a dark summer storm of tangles, and her eyes the warm chocolate color that Snape had already noted belonged to the woman. But her nose and the shape of her eyes! A Snape? The poppet ran straight into his arms barreling him over. Out the corner of his eye he noted a quick movement of alarm on the woman’s part, but she forced herself to stay calm. Still she was scared, he could almost smell her fear.

“Daddy!” The girl was bouncing on him for goodness sake’s, almost hitting him in a most sensitive part. Obviously, she was too young to understand such things, and Snape found himself loathe to even touch her. There was something terribly wrong to be in this bed with naught but a flimsy cotton sleeping gown on and someone’s child jumping all over him. And she was prattling. Snape was about to growl at her when he caught the mother’s eyes and decided to remain mute.

“Nanani said we could go up to the castle today and visit the squid, Daddy. Can you come? I want to feed the ducks, too. I can feed them right? Right! Nanani says it’s wasteful and I mustn’t, oh, and I learned a new song this morning, it goes like…”

“That’s lovely, Sarah.” Said her mother sweetly. “Now, it’s time to get dressed…”

“I want Daddy to take me,” she wailed and started to bounce on him again, this time a knee landing quite solidly on his privates. Snape gasped and ed ted the girl on the floor where she landed with a thump. “Daddy?” and her face turned puce as she started to cry. Hermione rushed over and scooped the child up into her arms, hushing her and taking her to the doorway.

“It was an accident, love. Daddy doesn’t feel well. You know like when you had a tummy ache from stealing all of Nanani’s cookies and eating them? Hush, hush.” She shot a look of pure venom at Snape and called downstairs, “Nanani!”

The strangest looking house elf Snape had ever seen suddenly appeared at the door. The creature was wearing a wig of silver ringlets, and had on a yellow flowered pinafore and chartreuse breeches underneath. Snape gaped, knowing that indeed he was probably sitting somewhere in a pile of his own excrement, raving out of his mind. He watched as the woman gave detailed instructions to the elf as to what to feed the child, how to dress her and exactly what she could and could not feed to the squid and the ducks. The girl was distracted enough by the day’s plans to give up her sniffling and to take the elf’s hand to be led down the stairs.

The woman closed and warded the door. That short distraction was enough time for him to locate his wand. It was where he usually kept it when he slept—under his pillow! He’s just gotten his fingers on it when he heard, “Expelliarmus,” and it shot out of his grip. He lunged after it across the large bed, but wasn’t quick enough, only brushing it with his fingertips.

“You feckless, almighty great bastard! When my husband finds out how you treated her--!”

“Well, where is he, Madam? I get tired of these repulsive games. Honestly, being forced to play some role with his brat. What is she, blind? Doesn’t know her own dad?”

“Do you know who I am?” the woman asked quietly, her eyes fastened on him ready to curse him if necessary.

“Somebody I just shagged.” said Snape smirking.

“I am the wife of Dr. Severus Snape, the new Lord of Harmseelway.”

He stared at her, allowing it to sink him. To be granted a doctorate and a peerage? Such honors bestowed upon a Snape? Severus Snape. “How nice for you, Lady Snape! So are you saying that I am some sort of twin to your esteemed husband?” he drawled the words sarcastically.

“You are either an admirable liar, or a madman or…” She looked at him cautiously. “What do think is going to happen to you?”

“I’m going to wake up evallyally.” He stared down at his hands. The sight gave him pause. The scars were gone. There was no sign of the broken bones he’d endured in the past few weeks. More proof that he was sleeping, of course. And yes, he’d rather die than wake.

“You believe you are dreaming,” she nodded her head slowly.

“Very astute. I’m glad to see you are listening. Yes, I will eventually wake up. And let me assure you, this dream is much more pleasant, even with your brat kneeing me in the groin, than what I will be facing when I wake.” The sullenness of his voice perfectly matched the resentment on his face.

She sighed. “Get dressed,” she commanded and again, Snape felt the desire to take her down a peg or two. He’d like to hurt her. Make her understand that he wasn’t someone to be ordered about.

He restrained himself and asked, “Why Madame? Or do you prefer Lady?”

“You should call me Hermione. I don’t want this coming out just yet. It would upset Sarah and many other people. You might be thrown into Azkaban.”

“For dreaming?” he snorted.

“For rape, for illegal possession of my husband’s body, for holding his mind hostage, somewhere. Oh the penalties are quite severe. I suggest that if you have any control over the matter—“

“Control? Over a dream, or nightmare as it’s turning out.” He got out of the bed and stalked into the bathroom to pee. He left the door open, and continued to talk, “You are a figment of my imagination. I should have known that this was way too pleasant a dream to continue as such. I’m either insane or dead or…”

He returned to the room drying his hands on a towel.

At least the brute washes his hands, thought Hermione. She suddenly felt ill, that he had touched her, been inside of her, been close to her daughter… She grabbed her robes and clean underwear and headed into the bathroom to dress.

“The left closet is yours. Dress to be interrogated by the Aurors of the Ministry.”

“Interrogated! No.” He leapt forward to grab his wand from her, but was confronted with her wand touching his throat.

“Don’t tell them that you had sex with me.” Hermione’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, “They will go easier on you.”

“No, please.” The plea was torn from his throat. He had been tortured already, yet still it would only make sense that his escape would be no escape at all.

“Then give me back my husband!” she said, slamming the door in his face.

Snape pounded his hand against the door. He hated her. He was remembering now, she was not just a friend of Potter but a Mudblood as well. Uppity little girl, she was a real show off with her knowledge. He opened the closet and stood back. There was a rainbow of robes; informal and dress, even Muggle clothing. And not one single black outfit! He laughed; it was a harsh, grating sound.

What a nasty joke, he thought. Someone, a demon in hell perhaps, must be having quite a good laugh at him. He went through them, touching the fine silks and thick woolen robes. At least there wasn’t anything that Gilderoy Lockhart might wear. He found a dark grey silk robe with an iridescent green sheen to it. It was the plainest thing in the closet. He found quality knickers and socks in the drawers and was again astounded that any Snape could afford something so fine. Though the bedroom was simply furnished and the house looked to be no more than a cottage in Hogsmeade, there was an understated style and tastefulness that screamed out wealth to him everywhere he looked.

Hermione emerged from the bathroom and Snape licked his lips. She looked quite lovely. Her wild mass of hair had been braided into a huge, thick plait leaving tiny tendrils to frame her face. The dress was modest and yet as fine as anything Narcissa Malfoy had ever owned.

“I’m keeping your wand until we are done at the Ministry. And don’t keep trying to take it from me.” She crossed to the door, “Breakfast is being served on the terrace. You are welcome to join me.”

“Hermione?” He stopped her and felt unsure how to proceed. The bullying potions master he’d once been had crumbled during the endless hours of torment wherein his enemies smote and taunted him. Scared of young chit with a wand? Why yes, he admitted to himself, on some level she terrified him.

“What are they going to do to me? I really thought I was dreaming.” He wanted to yell at her, scream, beat her senseless and yet he had to stay in control, maintain control at all costs. Again, he repeated to himself, only a dream, but it was becoming more nightmarish by the moment.

For a second the hardness left her eyes. “You don’t need to be afraid. This isn’t like some realms. Don’t mention that you touched me, but be truthful about all else. I’m sure there must be a way to sort this all out. And send you home.”

“And if I prefer to stay?” He said, remembering the knives and the caustic liquids that had been used on him in the other world. And how he’d scream until he coughed up blood from his torn vocal cords.

Her spine stiffened, “That is not an option.”

Snape headed down the stairs, still very much aware that Hermione held her wand fixed and steady on him. He knew now he’d have to escape and go into hiding. Dream or no, there was no way that he’d put himself into enemy hands again.


A/N: Wendynat, LittleBird, Rilla, NegativeNine, SJL, Dame Niamh, MV, and Mags