One Glance in the Mirror

The night sky was dark and moonless. Hermione pulled the heavy, velvet drapes across the window and walked toward the large, canopied bed. Her thin nightdress rustled around her thighs as she made her way to the bed. She turned back the heavy blankets, and slipped inside. Laying back against the pillows, she surveyed her surroundings and sighed.

Only the light of a flickering fire and a few candles lighted the large, square chamber. The smoky scent of sandalwood laced the air. It was eerie and mysterious. She was grateful she only had to spend one night here.

Hermione gasped and turned toward the door as she heard the doorknob rattle and someone enter. Despite the subdued lighting, she recognized his face and his determined walk instantly. Her shock quickly gave way to desire. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heartbeat quickened in her chest. Never had she seen anything she wanted more. Professor Snape was a walking invitation to sin.

His straight black hair hung down around his shoulders. His features were sharp, but those glittering black eyes were alive with determined purpose. Eyes full of want and promise and they were focused intently on her.

“Did you need something?” She asked, the words halting and breathless.

“I’ve found what I need.” He replied as he glided closer. He was dressed in his usual black, those robes billowed behind, and those tempting buttons begged for attention.

She sat on the bed as if hypnotized. She could listen to him speak forever. His silken tone caressed words like an ardent lover‘s hand. Without explanation, she knew she desperately wanted him to whisper her name. He didn’t say another word, just kept her pinned to the bed with the intensity of his gaze.

Dragging down the heavy blankets, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the magnificent mirror.

It stood almost as high as the chamber ceiling, with an ornate gold frame on two clawed feet. An inscription etched around the top read, "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.”

Hermione stood there in anticipation, entranced, waiting for him to make his first move. She couldn’t breathe as she felt his lips against her skin. She inhaled deeply and recognized his rich, masculine scent mixed with the organic smell of potion’s ingredients.

She wanted to taste him. Turning her head, she looked up into his dark eyes and trembled. The heat from those eyes nearly scorched her. He dipped his head until his lips hovered dangerously close. Without hesitation, she closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

He growled deep in his throat and gently pushed her away. With barely audible words he Accio’d a sturdy wooden chair. Sitting it sideways in front of the mirror, he bent her over it and placed her hands on the arm rests. He curved his fingers around hers until she had a firm grip on the chair arms.

She shivered as he slid his hands into her wild mane of hair, and gently pushed it to the left side of her neck. He applied his lips to the tender skin at her nape and nibbled the sensitive flesh.

Her fingers flexed and tightened their grip on the chair. Her breath quickened in anticipation of where he would next focus his attention.

His lips slowly traveled along her hairline to caress the soft skin behind her right ear. When he took the delicate lobe between his teeth to nibble, her ragged breathing increased. His whiskers scraped.

She gasped audibly.

She opened her eyes so she could see his reflection in the mirror. He looked up and met her wide-eyed glance, his glittering in response.

She could feel his lips moving against the curve of her left shoulder before she heard his whisper, “Not a word.”

She nodded in agreement but knew she was fighting a losing battle.

As he stared deeply into her eyes, his hands loosened the string ties at her shoulders that held the nightdress in place. With a gentle tug, he pulled it down over her body. His lips traced the curve of her spine as he lowered the garment and left it to pool around her feet. Her eyes closed as her body gave itself over to the sensations.

He eased the death grip her hands had on the chair arms, told her to fold them and rest her head against them in the seat of the chair. She felt one hand glide its way down her back from shoulder to waist then back again. His arm then reached under the arch of her torso to tease and lightly pinch her nipples. He scraped his fingers over and around those tight little points, rolling the between his fingertips, causing her breath to catch in her throat, and her fingers to flex spasmodically.

But her hands didn’t move.

She felt the heat pool in her lower belly and arrow its way downward. Gasping in anticipation, Hermione bit her bottom lip as she felt him nudge her legs apart.

His gaze found hers in the mirror again, daring her to make a sound. Somehow she maintained the tenuous grasp on her control.

Sinking onto his knees, his breath scorched the backs of her thighs. Her eyes drifted shut as she surrendered herself to feeling.

She heard him inhale deeply before she felt the sudden outward rush of air. Hermione opened her eyes as those firm lips skimmed over one buttock, then the other. The muscles in both cheeks tensed and relaxed as his fingers slid up and down her slit before delving into her, teasing and stroking before venturing to the tight bundle of nerves that begged for his attention.

As her breathing became more ragged, he applied two, then three fingers to his ministrations. Her slick insides pulled and promised as she pulsed around them. Her muscles clenching as she rode his fingers.

From her vantage point, Hermione watched as his head lowered so his lips could tug at her swollen flesh. His tongue caressed and entered her. Hermione moved her hips backward to force his tongue deeper inside.

He worked her furiously, feeling the rising tension in her body. Her breathing quickened into tormented gasps. He applied his other hand to the task. Moistening his fingers in the flowing juices, he slipped them into her other tight, warm hole. Hermione squirmed, but the tight ring of muscles soon relaxed, and she moaned aloud.

His fingers stopped in mid-stroke, his eyes narrowing on hers as he hissed into the mirror, “I said silence.”

She glared at him in response but kept pressing her hips into the

Unable to stand much more of the torture, she begged Snape to end her torment. Removing his hands, he gave her clit one last hard suck before rising to his feet.

As he opened the buttons on his trousers, she looked up to watch his face in the mirror. Suddenly the expression on his face changed, hardened. It was now no longer playtime.

He wrapped his left arm around her waist. With his right hand he gently pushed on her back until she bent forward, resting her hands on the back of the chair. His right hand then snaked around to cup her right breast, while his left trailed lower, to the dark brown triangle between her legs. His fingers once again began working their magic as his tongue swirled in her ear. Then, without warning, plunged deeply inside as he penetrated her from behind. Hermione cried out at the sudden sensation.

He raised his head so he could watch her face as he plunged himself deeper and deeper into her. He wrapped her hair around his right hand and tugged, keeping her face visible, open for his scrutiny. His eyes hardened as his instincts took over. Hermione became mindless, driven by the need possessing her. She was helpless to do anything but watch. Watch in abandonment as his fingers pleasured her in time to his rhythmic thrusts.

Snape groaned loudly at the feel of her soft, welcoming body. He quickened his fingers. She moaned and jerked in response. Then reached down and covered his hand with hers. She twisted begging for release. He was filling her to capacity, her muscles squeezed tighter with every thrust. She cried out when he again increased his pace. Her nerves winding tighter than she had ever imagined.

With one last twitch of his fingers, she threw back her head and screamed out loud. Her body began to shake uncontrollably as he gave her even more. With each movement her orgasm increased, her ragged cries now coming as cursing sobs. Violent shudders worked their way up and down her spine as she released herself.

Finally allowing himself to give in to the sensations tormenting his body, he wrapped her in his arms as he plunged one last time deep inside her. Holding her tightly, he laid his head against her neck and waited for his racing heart to begin its normal beat.

When she relaxed like a limpet in his arms, he cleared his throat.

She stiffened, pulled away and turned to face him. His eyes drifted up and down her nude body; taking note of the places he had been a bit too rough. She noted that except for the open placket of his trousers, he had remained completely clothed.

While she stood there staring at him in amazement, he returned her stare and began correcting his dishevelment. All the while not uttering a single word.

With one last, long look, he turned on his heel and strutted to the door. It swung silently open and then closed again.

Hermione stood there staring at the portal in complete bewilderment, wondering how he could seem so unaffected by what he had just done to her.

Unsure of how she would next approach him, she picked her discarded nightdress up off the floor, walked silently to her bed and threw the dress down across the footboard. After climbing inside, she pulled the heavy blankets up to her chin and surrendered to exhaustion.

************************

The next morning Hermione overslept and missed breakfast. She barely had time to bathe, dress and braid her hair into a wet rope down her back. She put her belongings from the night before into a small case and left it sitting on the foot of the bed. Winky would soon be in to tidy and Hermione knew she would return her belongings to her rooms. Before exiting, she gave the Mirror an apprehensive glance then scurried off to her first class.

The large wooden doors of the Muggle Studies classroom loomed ahead of her. She stopped to take a steadying breath before pushing them wide to enter. As she made her way inside, she was shocked to find the classroom completely empty, there were no chattering students, no levitating books, and no glasses of water being turned to rum.

Unexpectedly, she heard the sound of someone clearing his throat behind her. Steeling herself for the confrontation, she closed her eyes took a deep breath and turned slowly on her heels.

She looked into his eyes. They held distinct apprehension. She recalled the conversation they had five days ago, about the direction in which their relationship was going. Was she ready to take the next step?

After her experience last night in the Room of Requirement, Hermione felt certain she was ready to move beyond the easy friendship that had developed between her and Severus.

She didn’t want to disappoint him, but her nerves still felt too raw about last night’s episode to give him direct answer. She knew she would give him the answer he seemed to want so desperately but facing her deepest desire in such a blatant manner made her uncomfortable. Because of what the Mirror revealed, she was forced into acknowledging that her emotions ran deeper and hotter than she expected.

After the voyeuristic experience into her heart’s desire, she had spent hours in that uncomfortable chair, gazing into that damned mirror, and waiting for a repeat performance. A confirmation that what she had witnessed wasn’t caused by a dark charm. She needed to know that her confused heart was leading her in the right direction. She was still astonished that the grudging respect she had shown Professor Snape, as a student, had changed, since she began teaching at Hogwarts five years ago, into a comfortable friendship and blossoming love.

Apparently, the Mirror decided she had seen enough. Her long wait had been in vain, no other images had appeared. She stayed up so late that she had been too tired to make it to breakfast this morning. Her exhaustion was coupled with the assertion that a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, and the Mirror an even more dangerous tool. She understood how people were driven mad gazing endlessly into its depths hoping to glimpse a little bit more.

Shaking her head as if to clear it of morning fog, and forcing her thoughts to the present, Hermione glared her greeting. “Good morning, Professor Snape. Was there something you needed?” She queried between clenched teeth.

“Good morning, Hermione. Yes, there is something I need . . .,” He responded. His expressionless face completely confounded her. “An answer. Where is this relationship going?”

He unbent enough to smile nervously at her, before pressing further. “When you looked into the Mirror of Erised last night, what did you see?”

Hermione stalled for time. She needed to process the events in the Mirror in her own mind before having to give a detailed account to him, and she was certain he would demand every last detail. “If you will allow my students to return to class, I promise to tell you tonight after dinner.”

He nodded, frowning. He didn’t like the situation but wasn’t sure how to pressure her into giving in to his demands without hurting his case. Resigned to the wait, he plastered his most formidable scowl on his face and prowled to the large doors.

Throwing them open, he ordered the students to class, threatening them with loss of house points and weeks of detention. When everyone was seated, he turned to exit Hermione’s classroom when heard her call.

“Professor Snape, do you have room for an extra chair?”