Deep Throat

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, Rain Coast books, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers and many others. I am not making money from this work. JKR is a Goddess!


Deep Throat
A Parody of all Things Fanfictional as it Relates to
Hermione Granger and Severus Snape

Attorney deterrent: I am not JKR nor do I own in any way shape or form the characters she has created, this includes Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. I must add that I have been praying, earnestly praying that Severus be sent to me, but as of yet my prayers go unanswered. So I make free to borrow him. Frequently.

That said, let me add that if any author is offended in anyway by my possibly parodying their work, please let me say now that I write this as a compliment to your work. Had it failed to impress me it wouldn’t be parodied here. I will do my best to thank all who inspire at the end of this fic.

In short, my fellow writers, tis all in good fun and I will hopefully make you laugh as hard as or harder than you did whilst reading Fucking with Snape.

So, cover that monitor in an opaque liquid resistant substance and do likewise to our keyboard….I am in no way responsible for the cost involved in replacing said equipment in the event of their damage due to the expulsion of liquids from your mouths or nostrils during the act of laughter, cursing or any other emotional outburst.

Live long and prosper! On with the show!


Chapter One

Sparks and Sputterings


Professor Severus Snape, Potions master and instructor to mindless dolts strode smoothly into the dungeon classroom, his cape billowing menacingly behind him. His very presence brought an even deeper chill to the already cold room and all of the students, even the Slytherins, sank just a tad lower in their seats. Well except for two. Neville Longbottom tried his best to slide to the floor underneath his desk and had almost made it when he felt the sharp kick of Hermione Granger’s shoe on his thigh. She rolled her eyes at him as he made his way back up from the spot and slowly slid into his seat.

The aforementioned Miss Hermione Granger was the other student not affected by Professor Snape’s dramatic entrance. Quite the opposite reaction had occurred in fact, for upon his entry her eyes threatened to glaze over in lust as memories of last night’s dream unwound themselves like a porn movie in her head.

“Turn your books to page three hundred and sixty four,” he murmured, his voice smooth as the silken sheets that caressed the firm mattress of his bed. Hermione’s hands shook at the sound of it and she felt the heat of arousal pooling in her netheregions.

Of course, Hermione wasn’t supposed to know about the school’s most feared and hated instructors secret fetish for silk bed linens, but she had taken to ‘borrowing’ Harry’s invisibility cloak and sneaking into Snape’s chambers at night.

She had started sneaking into his chambers after discovering him crawling on hands and knees through the halls of Hogwarts on her patrols one night. He had obviously just returned from a Dark Revel and had no doubt, judging from the blood that was splattered across his robes, or the tremors that racked his body, had a tiring night.

“No wonder he’s such a prick!” she thought with a sudden feeling of compassion for the dark brooding, now trembling and vomiting man before her. ‘The poor man!” her thoughts continued as she swished and flicked the foul smelling vomit from the stone floor and helped him to his feet. “He sacrifices so much for us and we call him names behind his back! I feel so terrible! I must make it up to him! But how?”

They were silent, as she led his shambling form down the stairs to his dungeons. She wasn’t sure where his quarters were but led him in that direction anyway figuring that the Bloody Barron might be of some assistance should she run into him.

They walked, well she walked and he shambled for a little ways before he came to a lurching stop at a blank space of wall and tried to remove his wand from his pocket. His hand found no purchase, however so Hermione was forced to pull her wand and attempt to undo his wards.

His magic was so powerful! She was having the hardest time figuring the wards out, and the more and more complex the spells became, the weaker and weaker she got. Then finally, just when she could stand no more she tried one last spell, “Bloody wards! Open up you fuck!”

The heavy wooden door swung open in an obliging manner to reveal a well lit room beyond. With a weak shrug, she dragged the now half sleeping professor into the room, whilst thinking that she was sure to get expelled for her over boldness.

“But there is no one else to help him!” she whispered to herself. “In a huge castle with a nice Floo network, there is no one to help him. Madam Pomprey will just fuss over him and annoy him, Professor McGonagall will just frown at him whilst wringing her hands and Albus will either twinkle dully or go off on some tangent about how horrid he feels about allowing the man he looks upon as a son to keep endangering himself night after night for the pittance of information Poor Snape manages to glean in between the orgies, bouts of Crucio and the raids on muggles! There is no one to help him but me! Wow! Nice digs!”

She had always thought that his chambers would bee dark and dreary, with perhaps a serious lack of tasteful furniture or enough light to read by. How wrong she had been, she realized as she allowed her gaze to wander around the room.

The room was a study in contrasts, with the dark grey walls on one side of the room which was covered in rich tapestries depicting the Battle of Troy and on the opposite wall sat the tallest windows she had ever seen and a beyond them a balcony that apparently overlooked the lake. She forgot about her self appointed charge as she dropped his hand and walked as if entranced towards the windows. She reached her hand out to turn the knob of the French doors and encountered a wall. She snorted in surprise at her stupidity at not realizing that the wall was merely spelled to look like a wall of windows.

He had furniture too, made of dark mahogany covered in blood red velvet cushions mixed with ratty chenille covered pieces that looked as if they had seen better days.
Off in a corner sat a bar, resplendent with all types of liquor both Muggle and Magical, including a magnum sized bottle of Old Ogden’s Firewhiskey.

A lovely rendition of Dogs Playing Poker hung on the wall behind the bar, and upon closer inspection, Hermione could have sworn that this was the original picture, for the velvet looked aged and worn in some spots, as if it had been caressed too many times.

Opposite the roaring fireplace, stood sets of mismatched book shelves, groaning under the weight of the many books they held. Hermione glided over to them and caressed their spines as waves of desire swept thought her body. Suddenly she found herself torn between the desire to dive into the books or return to the nearly dead professor and cure him.

He moaned, she whimpered, wondering how he managed to sound so sexy even when he was bleeding to death and twitching like the catch of the day in an ice chest.

“I have to get him to bed so I can treat his wounds!” she thought as she started dragging his now prone form towards the wooden door that she assumed was his. “Then I can read!”


If the sitting room held her enthralled the sheer size of the bedroom terrified her. More precisely the size of the bed that stood in the center of the room. It was huge! The king-size mattress swathed in heavy silk sheets and a thick down comforter in his house colours. The head of the bed was heaped with pillows of various sizes, all inviting one to lay one’s head upon them and sleep. She shook herself from her reverie and dragged her Professor over to it. Of course, it was too tall for her to climb onto with out the aid of a step and she had no idea how she would get Snape onto the mattress.

“You’re a witch, duh!” she muttered to herself and with a flick of her wand had not only levitated her own self onto the bed, but had managed to bring Severus along with her. With a satisfied nod, she took the opportunity to check her patient out.

Golly, but in such close proximity he looked a lot bigger then she had thought he would be. His cloak went a long way in concealing his broad chest and wide shoulders, she observed as she spelled the ruined garment from his form revealing a shirt of fine white lawn. So fine that she could make out the skin beneath.

“Oh dear!” she sighed, suddenly afraid of her closeness to him.

She had never seen a real man without a shirt before, she thought as she tried to work up the courage to remove the garment. She knew that she had to touch him in order to treat him, but aside from the various sketches of naked torsos she had seen in books she had no experience in the real thing. True, her parents, in their desire to do right by their only child, had made sure that she received a well rounded education in the arts, but no manner of sculptures or statues could compare to the reality of it all.

“But it must be done,” she sighed. “If I want to study Aurory, with my minor in Medi-wizardry, Potions and Arithmancy then I should get used to seeing a naked man.” Hermione wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, so she summoned up the courage she had learned from all of her years studying the violin, piano, cello, ballet, Karate, Ballroom Dancing, Baton Twirling, debate, politics and all manner of literature turned her attention to her patient and with a swift swish, divested him of his clothing.

~insert incidental music that denotes a cliff hanger here~

And now a word from our sponsor, Please visit Titania\'s Kingdom at: http://www.titaniaskingdom.com