Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

...

"...Alaska?" Severus demanded, dropping the last of his bags on the plush-carpeted floor of the living room.

At least he'd had the grace to wait until both doors of the entryway had shut behind the estate agent before making that demand. Having arranged for false Muggle identities, procuring them passports, plane tickets, and so forth, and stopping just long enough in Vancouver, British Columbia., to purchase sundry necessities and belongings, Hermione had led him onto yet another aeroplane, one bound for the city of Anchorage, Alaska. Severus apparently had thought it was merely a stopping point along their route. It wasn't, and he made his bewilderment clear the moment he was free to do so.

"Why in the sacred name of Merlin are we in Alaska, Hermione?" he demanded. "Why not somewhere warmer? No British citizen in their right mind chooses to go somewhere frigid and cold! We have winters in Scotland for that, if we want to freeze off our appendages! For that matter, why not Norway or Sweden, if you really wanted to go somewhere filled with snow?"

Dropping her own bags on the floor, Hermione turned to face him. "Severus, I chose Alaska because it has a very small wizarding presence compared to other places, and Anchorage in specific because it has a very large Muggle population. You'll have many of the same amenities you'd have while living up near Aberdeen in Scotland, but without the fear of running into anyone who knows you! Which you would have run into, had I picked Norway."

"We will have many of the same amenities, woman," he retorted, crossing the distance between them. Clasping her hips, he tugged her close enough to dip his head and rest his brow against hers. His throat looked as good as new, but there were dark circles under his eyes from having traveled almost half the world the Muggle way, and he still hadn't completely regained his strength from all that lost blood, despite spending a week in Carlisle, convalescing. "I am tired, I am irritated, and I am in Alaska. What could this place possibly have to offer that a warmer climate couldn't, besides your presence at my side? Which is the only possible tolerable thing it could possess..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "As I said, the wizarding population is low. At least, in Anchorage. The locals who do cast magic live in remote villages...the Muggles out here will forgive most eccentricities, or so I've heard, but the locals take pride in being strange. That means they pay attention to how a person is strange," she explained. "It's actually harder to get away with using magic up here than it is in, say, Seattle, but the odds of running into someone either of us might know would be considerably greater almost anywhere else that's civilized...and I wasn't about to abandon you in the middle of a true wilderness. I wanted to make sure you still had access to a decent bookstore or three, even if they're strictly Muggle ones."

"I should point out that the wizarding population is also low in Pago Pago, which is a lot warmer than this place will ever be," he countered.

"Then how about your comment that no British soul in their right mind would be caught in a place this cold?...Though I'll remind you it's actually not all that cold outside at the moment," she told him. "I picked Anchorage because when I made up my list of places to send you, this one was well below the top fifty on the list. No one would ever picture you as the outdoorsy type, and Alaska is known for its outdoorsy populace."

"That's because it's winter for more than half the year, up here, and the inhabitants are all insane," he grumbled.

"It's only winter for half the year," she reminded him, hands going to her hips.

"Yes, and they cram the other three seasons into the other half of it," he retorted. "And then short-sheet it by a few degrees Centigrade."

Pulling away, she picked up her suitcases. They had already taken a tour of the house, and put away their groceries in the nicely appointed kitchen. "We're here, Severus. Get used to it. We'll have enough money to live here comfortably for ten years, maybe even fifteen if needed. But if we try to relocate immediately, that'll cut our funds in half, given the costs of setting up house. And if we have to move in the next three and a half years, for whatever reason, it would be far better to hold that extra money in reserve for when it's really necessary."

"Not good enough. Almost," he conceded, picking up his own things and following her, "but not enough."

"Fine," she called back over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. "Then how about the thought of long winter nights, with you and I curled up by the fire, books in our laps, having all the time in the world to read and debate and enjoy the peace and quiet without any of the illiterati interrupting our reading time with their petulant, pesky requests? Winter nights are very long, up here in Alaska."

"Hermione, even I can only read so many books in an evening. We may have stopped in Sasquatch Square down in Seattle to select and purchase a new wand for myself," he added, "but there is also only so much spell-research and potions-crafting a person can tolerate!"

She gave him a pointed look, though there was almost as much smirking as pointing in her gaze.

"Fine. I'll concede your point," he stated, nudging her with one of his suitcases so that she went straight instead of turning into one of the spare bedrooms.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, mock-cupping a hand to her ear. "Are you saying I'm actually right?"

He gave her a pointed look of his own, though there was almost as much leering as pointing in his own gaze. "Long winter nights are also suitable for lovemaking...or so I've heard."

Blushing, she allowed herself to be herded into the master bedroom. Downstairs, everything was furnished, with a living room, kitchen, dining room, water closet, and a sort of rec-room-cum-study that she had ordered converted into a library. There were three bedrooms upstairs, the master suite with its own private bath, two spare bedrooms, and a bath to service them. The spares were empty, standing ready to be remodeled into a potions lab or a study, or whatever he preferred, but with her inclusion, Hermione had come prepared to transfigure herself a bed until she could find time to purchase one.

Severus seemed to have other ideas. As soon as he had herded her into the master suite, he nudged the door shut behind him, dropped his things, removed her bags from her hands, and scooped her up. Hermione choked on a shriek, grabbing for his shoulders.

"Severus! You're still ill! Put me down!"

"As usual, you are acting the sufferable know-it-all. But if you carry your logic to its rightful conclusion, it is obvious even to a ninny that what I require now is bed rest." Dropping her on the bed, pre-made by the estate agent who had bought all of the house's furnishings at Hermione's long-distance request, Severus settled himself next to her. His nose, long and thin, bumped against her shorter one, his lank black hair swing down over her cheeks as he leaned over her. "Lots of bed rest."

"Somehow, I don't think you have 'rest' in mind," she quipped, smiling.

"I do. Eventually." Closing the gap between them, he pressed his thin lips to her fuller ones.

It wasn't a hurried kiss, despite his commentary. It was soft, it was nice, and when he pulled back slightly, Hermione decided she wanted more. Even if his nose did get in the way a little bit.

Lifting her hands, she slid them into his hair. It was softer than expected, if about as oily as it looked. Resolving in the back of her mind to coax him into sharing a shower with her and scrubbing him from head to toe in her choice of bathroom products, she lifted her head up off the fluffy, feather-stuffed pillows, catching and nipping at his mouth.

He sighed in pleasure, helping her deepen their kiss. They were languid kisses, too, a slow sort of passion that burned nonetheless. She sighed with her own contentment when he left her mouth, slowly working his way toward her ear. Anticipation became agony, until he breathed hotly on the whorls before suckling on her lobe. Her fingers clenched in his hair; not wanting to hurt him, she shifted them to his back, urging him more fully over her. Nuzzling his way down to her neck, he pressed languid lips to her skin, pausing to inhale her scent now and again.

Slowly, his movements stilled. His weight increased. Hermione blinked, wondering what he was doing...or rather, not doing. A few moments later, just as she was wondering if she should jiggle him...he snored. It was very quiet, and sort of cute, but very distinctly a snore.

She jiggled him firmly. "Wake up, Severus! No falling asleep on me. Not literally; you're a bit too heavy."

"...I am not sleeping. I am resting my eyes," he mumbled. But he did oblige her by rolling onto his side. Rubbing at his eyes, he grimaced slightly. "I've been up for far too long, crossed too many time zones, and carried too much baggage the Muggle way. To Alaska, no less."

Twisting onto her side, Hermione propped herself up on one elbow and leaned in close enough to press a kiss to his forehead. "You're still not fully recovered from your ordeal. A nap would not be amiss."

For a moment, he looked like he would protest. Then he sighed and fixed her with a firm look. "Fine. But you will join me." He paused, then frowned thoughtfully at her. "...How did you do it?"

He had lost her. "Erm, do what?"

"Hide your true self. I attempted a stealthy form of Legilimency upon you two or three times over the years. But all I got was that you believed yourself to be Cindy Miller, with snippets of the Department, your most current, temporally stranded memories...and no real hints of your past," he told her. "And yet just now, I can sense your history, the young girl you were. How did you do that?"

Hermione smirked. "They do call it the Department of Mysteries, you know."

He narrowed his eyes, but didn't press the point. Sighing, he rolled himself upright and headed for the en-suite bathroom, detouring just long enough to pick up one of the suitcases. Hermione rolled off the other side of the four-poster bed and began pulling down the thick, roller-style shades over the two windows in the room, forcing her to cross back to the nightstand to turn on one of the lamps. Then she pulled the cord for the heavy drapes, further darkening the room.

This was Alaska in early May, after all. The winter nights might be long, but the summer days would be just as lengthy. The locals had a habit of furnishing their houses in a way that would either retain heat or block out light, depending on the time of year. Hermione had made certain the house was outfitted properly with blinds and a woodstove, a portable generator and so forth; every possible need Severus could have had in this place, she had tried to anticipate...except for the fact that he also apparently needed her.

Not that she was going to complain...far from it.

Returning to the bed, she debated turning down the covers, or just using the lap-throw draped at the foot of the bed by the thoughtful agent she had hired. Hermione suddenly realized her mouth felt a bit fuzzy, and snagged her own suitcase, the one with her toiletry kit. Retreating to the other bath, she scrubbed her teeth, washed her face, and used the facilities. When she returned, she was met by the unexpected sight of Severus Snape in a dressing gown, turning back the bedcovers.

Hearing her enter, he turned to face her. The dressing gown was a deep, velvety black, and it only served to frame the pallor of his chest, exposed in just enough of a vee to make her aware of the light thatching of black hairs scattered across his sternum. Her gaze drifted down, all the way to his muscled, lightly haired calves, his skinny ankles, and his bony feet. Between her ministrations a few days ago in Carlisle and this moment now, she wondered if this was the most anyone had ever seen of Severus' skin ever since he became an adult, outside of maybe Poppy Pomfrey.

Severus lifted his chin slightly, as if daring her to comment. Not one to back down when a question needed answering, Hermione asked, "Erm...you're going to nap in that? I mean, you got undressed?"

"Of course. Aren't you going to?" He waited for her answer. His chin was still lifted slightly, as if bracing himself for her answer.

It occurred to Hermione that he might actually be afraid of her answer. His comment about his advancing age, having grown old while she stayed virtually the same, came back to her. Her mouth curved into a smile; she didn't quite know why, but that brave-but-hiding-it look pleased her somehow. Lifting the bag dangling from her hand, she said, "I'll just slip into my own robe, then, and join you."

He didn't lower his chin, but his dark gaze did soften a little. Still smiling, she retreated to the suite bathroom with her bag. There was something...not amusing, but more...heart-warming about a slightly anxious Severus Snape. Anxious over her reactions. He was such a tough nut to crack, constantly hiding his emotions and scrutinizing everyone else's motives, thanks to far too many years as a spy. It was fascinating to see these new aspects to his personality, and flattering to be allowed to see them.

Catching sight of her face in the mirror, with its happy...nay, pleased...grin, Hermione suddenly wondered what she was doing. I'm here, in the bathroom of the house I bought for him, a house I'll most likely be staying in for the next three and a half years, living with him for those three and a half years...and I'm about to get undressed, don a nightgown, and go out to join him in his...our...bed to sleep. Just sleep.

She quirked her brow at her reflection, which stayed Muggle-normal, merely quirking its eyebrow back at her.

...This is completely wrong. And there's only one way to make it right.

Turning on her heel, she left her bag of clothes in the bedroom. She would give Severus a strip-tease, and then...

He was asleep.

Pale and wan-looking, his face lax and his muscles limp, arms bared as they rested above the covers...he looked vulnerable. Cuddle-able. Human.

He even snored slightly. Cutely, though she knew he would deny the cute part as fiercely as he'd denied the wrongdoings of his Slytherin students over the years. Sighing, Hermione stripped off her clothes with disappointed efficiency, tossed them in the corner...she would have to buy a clothes hamper at some point, as she hadn't quite anticipated every possible need...and padded over to the bed.

She half expected him to snap awake, hand snatching for his wand, ready to hex anything that might be trying to attack him as he slept. But he just slept. In fact, the only movement he did was after she had settled next to him under the covers. He mumbled something, turned his head in her direction, inhaled deeply, mumbled again on an exhale...this time it sounded like her name...and rolled onto his side, spooning up against her. Twisting to put her back to his chest, Hermione wriggled just enough to get comfortable, then let her own jet-lag catch up to her.

Seduction would have to wait until they both had a little more energy. One thought did comfort her, despite her disappointment. Severus Snape is still alive. That's worth all the delays and disappointments, and all the deceits and disguises in the world.

He is alive...and he is mine.

...

She woke with a strange, ambivalent feeling, of having enjoyed the most relaxing sleep in an age, yet also tense with instinctive wariness. Cracking her eyelids open in narrow slits, she snuck a cautious look at her surroundings. Fluffy, feather-stuffed pillows, high thread-count, white sheets...and a dark-haired, dark-eyed, nightshirt-clad man staring at her with unnerving intensity. But he was not glaring at her, and he was very much alive.

Those dark eyes registered her wakefulness, and his expression softened further. He almost-smiled, in fact...until several heartbeats passed. His almost-smile faded, pinching into a frown. "You aren't stuck in time, anymore. You can move," he pointed out, voice gravelly from sleep. When she didn't, he frowned with impatience. "...Well?"

I think he's afraid I am still stuck in time, Hermione realized, amused and touched at the same time. She was also more than a little embarrassed to be naked in bed with her former colleague and ex-teacher. But, obedient to his emotional needs, she stretched out her limbs, twisting to lie more fully on her stomach as she arched her back. That felt good enough, she did it a second time and let out a humming sigh of contentment as she relaxed.

And then realized she had to piddle. That meant getting out of bed...naked...and padding across to the en suite bathroom. Flushing a little, she silently acknowledged it was only fair. I saw him naked while he was healing, back in Carlisle.

He reached for her just as she moved away. Catching sight of his frown, she quickly reassured him. "I'll be right back; I have to go...you know."

Severus grunted, but she could tell he was reassured she wasn't rejecting him. Slipping from beneath the covers, she padded into the bathroom, knowing he was undoubtedly watching her entire backside. Grabbing her toothbrush, she scrubbed her teeth while she used the facilities. From the clock on the counter, it was the middle of the night locally, though it felt more like mid-morning to her Scotland-attuned body. Washing up, she braced herself for the trip back into the bedroom and opened the door.

Severus was right there. His sallow cheeks flushed a little, and he lifted his chin, dignified and defensive, his gaze firmly fixed on a point somewhere over her head. "My turn..."

Her own gaze struggled not to dip, though she could see he was definitely virile at the lower edge of her vision. Bemused, Hermione stepped around him, giving him room to enter the bathroom. She wondered what that avoidance awkwardness was. It wasn't just me, it was him as well. Am I not attractive enough? No, that can't be it. He had a stiffy. Or is he remembering that I was his student? That might embarrass him in spite of an erection...

She heard a sharp-sounding oath and crept back to the bathroom door. Straining her ears, she heard a very strange mutter. It resolved itself into, "...dirty cauldrons think about dirty cauldrons think about manky, nasty, first-years' cauldrons..."

Cauldrons? Why would he be wanting to think about something as nasty as...ohhh. Her face heated in realization as she heard him relax enough to use the facilities. Of course! He has a morning stiffy, and he can't have a wee until it goes down!

Grinning, Hermione quietly hustled back into their bed. Fluffing and piling the pillows behind her back, she thought about drawing the covers up to her breasts, then changed her mind, kicking them to the foot of the mattress. With her left hand tucked behind her head and her right hand tucked between her thighs, right knee drawn up and out so that it splayed to the side, she waited for his return. Contraceptives weren't a problem; she'd been on the potion for years now, and her next dose wasn't due for another two months. That left nothing to worry about but how well they might be able to please each other.

Failing all else, we are teachers. We can always instruct each other on what we like. And we're also researchers, which means we can always experiment, too.

Moments later, she had the pleasure of watching Severus Snape choke and stumble to a stop just a few steps into the bedroom. Eyes riveted on the subtle movements of her fingers, he slowly approached the bed, still trying to clear his throat of mis-inhaled saliva. He looked stunned, like a fish being reeled into netting range, two seconds from gasping his life away.

Hermione grinned at him. "Sorry, but I, erm, seem to have started without you."

"You will not finish without me," he told her...ordered, rather, as he climbed into the bed. His flesh hardened visibly. The needs of his morning wee now set aside, he clearly found the sight of her attractive enough to resume what they hadn't gotten around to doing last night. Alluring enough to lower his head to her knee, his shoulder-length locks of hair sliding over her skin in ticklish contrast to the gentle kisses he pressed against her flesh. His palm stroked up the inside of her left thigh in small circles, making her muscles tremble at the soft, soothing caresses.

Soft and Snape were not words she would have associated together, but Hermione allowed herself to be proven wrong. Quite wrong, for by the time he had kissed and caressed his way to the apex of her thighs, both knees were splayed, her fingers were working rapidly, and her breath was panting unsteadily. Gently tugging at her wrist, he captured her fingers in his suckling lips. Hermione moaned, feeling his tongue swirl around her fingertips. Her other hand came down, finding and guiding his head closer to her groin, tugging on his locks when he didn't comply quickly enough.

The same razor-witted tongue that had cut her and her friends to the bone as students now proved it was as soft as velvet. He flicked it over her netherlips, tasting her skin in short, teasing strokes along one side of the sensitive seam, then the other. He stirred her clitoris with the tip of it, swirling around and around...then scrambled up her body with a groan, slotting his erection against her flesh.

Not just against, but into, for one, two, three thrusts not only seated him fully in her moistened depths, they ended in a full-body shudder and a drawn-out, not quite tortured, masculine groan. The thought that she had excited him so much that he couldn't wait any longer exited Hermione in turn...but he stopped thrusting within moments, leaving her hovering on the edge between satiation and disappointment. Sagging over her, he rested on her heavily for a few panting breaths, then shifted more of his weight onto his elbows.

Cupping her skull, fingers buried in her sleep-mussed curls, Severus tilted her head into a decent, mouth-plundering angle. His kiss was thorough as well as passionate; he claimed her, tongue and lips and teeth, letting her know that he wasn't finished making love to her, however precipitous his urge to couple had been. Being devoured like that, being wanted like that, revived her flagging arousal. Hermione lifted her knees and clenched her inner muscles, instinctively needing more of his flesh.

The way he groaned into her mouth and attacked her with greater fervor let her know she was on the right track. Squeezing again and again, Hermione ran her hands through his sleep-tangled hair, then scraped her nails lightly over his shoulders. Hardness returning, he pushed into her in slow, deep strokes. Limbs twining around his body, she clung to him, devoured him as he braced himself on his elbows and resumed the stroking she desperately needed, staring down at her with that same intense look.

Words poured out of her as his vigor increased. "Oh yes...oh, yes, oh God! Oh God, yes! Severus...more, there...oh, there!" A squirm of her hips and a hitch of his knees put all the pressure on just the right spot. "Oh God, yes!"

Ron had never found that spot. The two men she had dated while working for the Department of Mysteries...well, one of them had found it twice, but that had been by accident, and he hadn't been good enough at experimenting to find it again. But this...the man in her arms, thrusting into her body, not only found that beautiful spot, he kept finding it, over and over. Hermione wasn't even conscious of screaming with her pleasure until he muffled it with his lips. Then her ears stopped hurting, while her lungs started aching with the need for more air.

She scratched at his ribs, writhing under him. Severus released her mouth, choosing instead to nip at her neck. The thought of him maybe actually being a vampire...though she knew he wasn't...rocked through her nerves. Nipping at his own shoulder, Hermione snarled at him, overwrought with passion. "More! More!"

"Come for me!" he growled in her ear. "Come for me! Now!"

Head thumping into the pillow, spine arching beneath his weight, inner muscles clenching hard and tight, she came. Eyelids straining, lights exploding behind them, she lost sense of everything but the feel of him straining into her and the mind-blowing pleasure their union created. She didn't even feel the pain of his mouth clamping onto the muscle next to her throat, until he released it and himself with a shuddering groan.

Panting, both of them relaxed into the bedding. Severus shifted so that he only covered half of Hermione, a warm, sweaty weight against her right side. That slid their flesh apart, but he made up for it, stroking her hair and pressing soft kisses to her lips and cheek. His touch was more tender than she expected. It prompted her into stroking and kissing him back.

Finally he sighed and slumped back from her. Voice gravelly, eyes closed Severus stated blandly, "If this turns out to be merely a delusional dream...I will viciously hex whoever is responsible."

Amused and unable to help herself, Hermione smiled and said, "Get in line, Severus. If this is a dream, I get the first spellcast. You can have whatever's left, if I leave anything."

That cracked open his dark eyes. "You will not hex them to death with the first stroke! Such a great tragedy would demand an equally great vengeance. We will draw out their torture. Together."

She winced at that. She didn't have much of a scar anymore...the Healers at St. Mungo's had done wonders with the wounds inflicted on her during her capture and torment by the Death Eaters both a handful of days and several years ago, depending on one's perspective in time, but the word 'torture' carried unpleasant connotations even now, years later. And years earlier. It was worse because she knew her younger self was still suffering from her injuries and nightmares right now, albeit on another continent.

He noted her subtle flinch. Shifting his hand, Severus cupped her cheek. "You never told me. What happened, after I fell? What is happening right now, over there? What did those bastards do...and how did it end?"

She had told a few people some of the details...the Healers had to know what was done to her, and they had sent for the wizarding equivalent of a counselor to help her...but she hadn't allowed herself to dwell too much on what happened. Eventually, the nightmares had eased, and time had allowed her a certain distance from her memories. Carefully worded politeness had allowed her to sidestep casual inquiries in the post-war celebrations, too. But of all the people who deserved to know, as well as needed to, Severus deserved to be told.

So she told him, in quiet words that had accepted the pain and trauma long ago.

Her physical scars had long since healed, but it was his quiet fury against her captors, mixing with his subtle but tangible worry for her well-being, his concern that she was still haunted by the final hours of that last battle, which soothed her lingering mental aches. As did the way he gathered her close. Not saying anything, but showing her with his protective, enfolding embrace that he never wanted her to suffer like that again.

The smallest hours of the night waxed larger. With it came an ungodly early dawn. Light glowed around the edges of the blinds and the blackout curtains both, adding to the bedside lamp that neither had remembered to turn off. Someone's stomach rumbled, making Severus snort in wry humor.

"...I don't suppose you remembered to stock some food in this place, even if it's only a tin or two?"

"I had the housing agent lay in a good supply of staples, tins, and seasonings. The tea will be baggy," Hermione warned him, "since I couldn't quite bring myself to trust her to pick out a good enough loose-leaf, being American. But I did specify Twinings, so at least it'll be a consistent quality baggy tea."

"I suppose it will have to do...one question," he added, catching her shoulder as she started to roll away from. "Why 'Cindy', for a name?"

"Well, my middle name would've been too obvious, and, well...I always liked the name." She shrugged. "It worked out well, since I vaguely remembered a Professor Miller from the school records, and ended up needing to be her."

"You realize I may slip up and call you 'Cindy' from time to time," he said, following her as she rose from the bed. "Certainly, with your hair styled like that, you do not look like yourself. Your younger self."

"I like the shorter length, though getting it bleached every month or so was a bit trying," she admitted.

"You look like a mop." At her affronted look, Severus lifted his brows. "What, do you expect me to lie to you? Your hair curls too much when it's this short. It needs to be longer, to form softer waves. The length will drag some of the bushiness out of the curls."

Hermione wasn't about to let him bully and walk all over her. As far as she was concerned, theirs was an arrangement of equals, and he was going to know it. She planted one hand on her naked hip and used the other to poke him in the chest. "You need to wash your own hair far more often! Actually, if we're going to be honest, you yourself would look a whole lot better with straighter teeth, a healthy tan, and some highlights in your hair."

"...Highlights? Hermione, I am a man, not a nancy ponce!" he sputtered. "My hair is black, just as God meant it to be!"

"Well, if I'm supposed to grow mine out and return it to its natural colour...when I like being a blonde...you can suffer plenty of sun, exercise, good food...today's tins and baggy teas notwithstanding...and a little more in the way of style and verve to your hair than, oh, I don't know, looking like you washed it with a floor soap? Assuming you've washed it at all," she added tartly. "I figured you had to play the part of the greasy git to get everyone to hate you and leave you alone, reducing the chance someone would figure out you were a double agent, but if I am going to stay here with you, then you have to stop being a bastard!"

He gaped at her for a moment, then poked one of his long, pale fingers at her face. "You may have been my colleague for a year, and my friend off and on for more, but I will not be disrespected like that!"

Folding her arms under her breasts, heedless of their naked state, she lifted her chin. "And what, precisely, can you do about it? If you haven't noticed, this isn't Hogwarts, and you cannot give me a detention anymore!"

Spinning on her heel, she flounced toward the bathroom, intending to tidy up from their lovemaking. Before she could flounce through the doorway, his arm hooked around her waist, hauling her back across the floor. Stumbling, Hermione found herself hauled over his knees as he dropped to the side of the bed. One hand braced on the edge of the mattress, she twisted to glare up at him.

His hand slid down over her curves, halting her protest. That felt...good. She should have been sated from their lovemaking, should have been too hungry for food to be swayed by a different sort of need, but that felt really goo...SWACK!

A yelp escaped her. She struggled to get up, but he planted his free arm between her shoulder-blades, and caressed her stinging rump in soothing, exploratory strokes. SWACK! Another yelp, and she struggled again. He bent over her, making shushing noises, and spoke in almost a whisper. "Do you know how much I've fantasized about doing this to my misbehaving pupils? Not naked, of course; I've never been interested in children...but to combine it with a full-grown, beautiful woman, both of us naked..."

A shift of his hips allowed him to gently prod her side with his erection. Hermione stilled, conflicted feelings crashing around in her. On the one hand, she would not tolerate such humiliation. On the other hand...it was kinky, and exciting, and very arousing. Licking her lips, she chose her words carefully.

"If you continue with this, Severus, you will have to understand that I demand a relationship of equals. Which means I will bend you over my knee at some point in the future, and spank you."

Most of his body stilled...but not his penis. It twitched and prodded her harder, bobbing with excitement. Moving his hand after a long moment, Severus slid it from her rump. Hermione braced herself in preparation for standing.

SWACK! SWACK! SWACK!

Her limbs buckled. Her yelps came out as a strangled, choked sound, thanks to the stinging, unexpected blows. And when his fingers dipped between her buttocks, exploring the seam of her nether-regions, she nearly choked again on the sudden rush of air returning to her lungs. Another SWACK, more sting than thud, and he circled the tip of her clitoris, tipping her into a shuddering, unbelievable orgasm...but only a minor one, the kind that primed her for wanting more.

Bending over her trembling torso again, he murmured carefully, distinctively near her ear, "Tea can wait."

Hermione nodded fervently.