Part the Seventh

Thank you again for the incredible reviews you have given me. I am overwhelmed and thrilled and touched beyond words. As always, give a shout-out to the mighty stgulik, who is the best beta in the world. And, as always, these characters belong to JKR and not me - I would have given them lots more love and chocolate.

From the other side of the door, he heard a soft tapping. "Severus? Are you alright? Severus, let me in."

"Go away," he rasped, shivering.

"Not happening," was the calm reply. "Let me in."

Knowing that she would eventually force her way in, Severus stepped away from the door and crossed the room, wrapping his long arms protectively around his torso. He sat down on the bed just as Hermione opened the door and walked in.

He could not look up when he felt the bed sag as she sat down beside him. She smelled of lemons and vanilla and basil, and he wanted to die. He fumbled into his pocket and produced a handkerchief to blot the clammy sweat from his face. He couldn't seem to get a good, deep breath.

For a moment, she merely sat beside him, rubbing his back soothingly. He pulled the elastic band from his hair and shook it loose, allowing it to fall forward to curtain his face. Instantly Hermione tucked a strand behind his ear, and her hand drifted down to clasp his own, and he held on gratefully.

As his trip-hammer heartbeat gradually slowed, his distress abated slightly, and he could breathe easier. "Care to talk about it?" she said, after a pause. In a lightly teasing voice, she added, "I take it you didn't do a runner because of my terrible singing voice."

"No," he said, scornfully. As an afterthought, he added, "You both have lovely voices."

"Then why, Severus?"

How could he tell her? How could he look her in the eye and tell her he had a panic attack because he wanted this so badly? What would she think if he said he wanted her and Rose and his fine robes and happiness, and he was too damn frightened to believe he could truly have it, because it all seemed too good for him?

Twice he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Hermione finally said, "Look at me, Severus, please."

Reluctantly, he turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I should have explained why I ran away. I am a coward. I hurt Rose's feelings. That was unforgivable."

Hermione sighed. "You see, I think that's your main problem. You think every mistake you make is unforgivable. Just because Lily Evans didn't have the guts and the depth of soul to forgive you, you don't think you deserve to be forgiven, and so you won't forgive yourself."

He looked at her resentfully, knowing she was right on so many levels, knowing she was wrong on others. "I want too much, and I'm afraid."

Nodding, Hermione said, "Well, at least we're getting somewhere. Severus, do you want me?"

"What sort of question is that?"

She considered. "A fairly valid one at this stage of the game, I think. Now, here are the rules. I'm going to ask a question and you have to answer it truthfully. But you can't answer a question with a question. Agreed?"

Severus glowered. "I fail to see how-"

"Good, we're agreed," she replied briskly. "Question number one: Do you want me?"

Looking into her sweet brown eyes, Severus rumbled, "You know I do."

Hermione nodded. "Well, good. You have me. Now, that takes care of question number one."

"But-"

She put her hand over his mouth. "No, I'm asking the questions here. Question number two: Do you want to stay here with Rose and me? For a long time? Perhaps... forever?"

His mouth twitched. "That's three questions."

"Don't be a numpty! Answer the question."

Severus lowered his head. "I'm not easy to live with."

Hermione shrugged thoughtfully. "Well, sometimes, I agree. But I must urge you to answer the question." She smiled at Severus, and he felt a little better.

"Yes."

"Good. You have that, too. Now, third and most important question." She took his face in her hands. "What are you afraid of, Severus? Aside from losing your magic forever, what are you truly afraid of?"

He looked at her, and his trembling ceased. A strange calmness swept over him, and it felt like grace. The tight band that constricted his breathing loosened completely. "I'm afraid of losing you and Rose." He swallowed, and the tension seeped from his body. Casting his fate into the lap of the gods, he uttered the truest statement he'd ever voiced. "I truly believe I could live without my magic forever, as long as I didn't have to live without you."

Hermione gave him a radiant smile, and put her arms around him. "Oh, Severus, we're not the type of women to love you and leave you. I'm not going anywhere, and neither is Rose." She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "So stop feeling so bloody insecure and enjoy yourself."

He held onto her like a lifeline, breathing in her scent and her warmth. This? Mine, forever?

"This. Yours, forever," she repeated, and he flushed as he realised he'd spoken aloud. She laughed, a sweet, breathless sound. Then, so close he could feel her lips brush deliciously against his ear with each word, she murmured, "Question number four: So what are you going to do to ensure that, Severus Snape?"

Severus pulled her closer, holding her so tight he could feel her heart beat against his chest. "Never walk out on your concert again?"

He could feel her sides shaking with relieved laughter. She pulled back just enough to find his lips, and pressed hers to them in a hard, swift kiss, laughing at his startled, incredulous expression. "Right answer."

He finally released her. "It's not going to change overnight, Hermione," he confessed. "It took me ten years before I could admit to myself I even had the right to need someone."

She gave him a devilish little smirk. "Severus. Do the math. Rose and I have been re-enacting that concert for four years. We could've invited the Weasleys over. They love to hear Rose sing. But we didn't. We never wanted to sing to anyone else - until this year. Now, if we can wait four years until the right person came along to share the concert with the sofa, I think we can be patient enough for you to come to grips with us."

She turned a bit until they faced one another on the bed. Severus looked down at their joined hands. His was long and pale, and hers looked so small and fragile. He could see so much capability and integrity in that tiny hand, sitting trustingly within his.

"Well, bugger this self-doubting shite." He barked a shaky laugh, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I'm missing the concert of the season."

Looking back on that particular Christmas, Severus recalled many things. But one of its sweetest moments was sitting as the sole (living, breathing) audience member of the remainder of the 'concert' he'd almost foolishly derailed. The Granger Girls, as they say, had been in fine form.

He remembered many of their songs from his Muggle childhood. Even in the Snape household, Decembers included Christmas music wafting from the cracked and gaffer tape-mended Roberts radio his father kept in the front room. Amongst the traditional favourites, Severus was treated to a lively rendition of 'Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree,' "Jingle Bell Rock," "Merry Christmas Everybody," and "I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day." It was like having a Time-Turner; the songs took him to his childhood, but brought no hurt or remorse back into the future with them.

After each song, Severus dutifully applauded, and even smiled as Hermione treated him to the finale, a rather flirtatious version of "Santa Baby." Watching her performance without the filter of insecurity clouding his judgment, he felt a certain thrill of being 'in' on the joke.

As Hermione played the part of the Yuletide gold-digger, she actually draped herself on his lap. He shuffled around, trying to make sure she didn't land on his burgeoning erection, and she grinned at the deer-caught-in-the-Lumos look in his eyes.

Not to be outdone, Severus managed to sneak an arm around her waist, and she gave him a look of pleased surprise, only removing herself from his lap when the song ended. Both Severus and Rose applauded Hermione, who took several exaggerated bows.

"That's the best you've ever sung that one, Mum!" Rose said, hugging her mother. "It's ever so much better when you have someone to sing to, isn't it?"

Hermione, holding onto her daughter, looked at Severus, and she smiled. "I think you're right. Next year, we'll take it on the road, as they say."

"Yay us!" Rose laughed, and they flopped down on the sofa with Severus, one Granger on either side.

He handed Hermione a glass of wine. "Thank you, ladies. That was most enjoyable. I feel very privileged to have been your audience for this evening."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Thank you, Severus," she said, obviously pleased. He felt a surge of relief. Somehow, some way, he had not totally bollocksed things up this time. Finally, he felt like he'd done something right.

He felt a warm hand on his arm and turned to find Rose looking at him expectantly. "Severus, we always sing one more song. Would you like to hear it?"

"I should feel honoured, Rose." He turned to Hermione. "Will you be joining in on this song, Hermione?" Before he could stop himself, he added, "Shall I ready my lap in preparation?"

Hermione froze, then broke into peals of laughter. Just as he was suspecting the laugh to be on him, she squeezed his hand, still chuckling. "Oh, Severus, I wish I had known you were this funny in school! I would have enjoyed your classes so much more."

Mollified, Severus edged a finger under his repaired collar. It was suddenly very warm in the room. "Merlin forbid. I had a reputation to uphold." He turned thoughtful. "And to be honest, there was very little to laugh about in those days. Even with everything that's happened, I much prefer things as they are right now."

Hermione's warm, brown eyes shone with affection. "You know, I do too."

Rose, attuned to the adults, but not really understanding the subliminal pulse between them, piped up, "I'm really glad things are the way they are, too. This is going to be the best Christmas ever."

Severus met Hermione's gaze, and the sudden painful hope that had blossomed in his chest threatened to overwhelm him again. Sensing his emotions, she placed her warm hand over his. "I think you're right, Rose." For a giddy moment, he thought Hermione might lean forward and kiss him – really kiss him. He wondered what on earth he would do – what on earth he should do, if she did.

Then she broke the spell and turned back to her daughter. "Well, let's have that last song, then, darling. Singer's choice. You pick."

Instead of standing, Rose sat back against the sofa. In the quiet of the moment, her soft, sweet voice rose in the room, and Severus listened with an increasing tightness in his throat:

"Now, out of the night, soft as the dawn into the light,

A child is born..."

Hermione took up the repeated verse, singing a harmony with her daughter, and Severus listened, cradled between their voices and their unconditional love. He looked toward the Christmas tree, and a feeling welled in his breast until his heart felt as if it were bleeding, and he willed himself not to weep at the beauty of it. The soft melody, sung in their sweet voices, washed over him like a tender, healing embrace, and with it came the happy knowledge that this was for him, all of it. The food, the decorations, their pretty clothes, their music – all gifts for him.

Severus closed his eyes and prayed a selfish, grasping prayer, full of longing, and he sent it into the heavens, borne on the strains of the lullaby the two girls sang to him. It floated in the air like the most delicate incense, and he felt purified by this song, sung by angels, sung in innocence and honesty and hope.

It took him to a place where he had always wanted to be. He had spent so much of his life on the outside, peering through the foggy glass at protection and love and comfort within. It had always seemed so elusive, but even now their voices beckoned him to come inside and join them, and he wanted that more than anything else on this earth.

All too soon, the song ended and their voices receded. Severus opened his eyes and found Hermione watching him intently, her eyes full of the same emotion he felt, and it shook him. He must have returned her intense gaze, for she dropped her eyes and said, rather meekly, "That's one of the first songs I ever taught Rose, but she's so much better at it than I ever was."

Severus turned to Rose. He could not stop the trembling in his voice. "I think-" He had to stop, and take a deep breath. "I think that is the most beautiful song I have ever heard, Rose."

"Thanks," she breathed, looking both embarrassed and pleased. She lowered her eyes shyly to the sofa cushion, tracing the pattern in the fabric with a tiny finger. "Severus, would you sing a Christmas song for us?"

"Rose," Hermione said, faintly chastising. "One doesn't perform for an audience, then ask them to return the favour."

"Singing for my supper, now, is it?" Severus asked, his tone teasing enough not to cause offence. "I think what your mother is trying to say is that, given my temperament, not to mention my past, I have never given the impression of being able to carry a tune."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. Shaking her head, she replied, "Oh, no, not at all! I just didn't want to put you on the spot and I thought-"

"It's alright, Hermione," he interrupted. "In truth, I have sung on occasion." He was delighted at the surprise in her face.

"Well, I must say, you never cease to amaze."

"May it be ever thus," he replied, and was warmed by her laughter.

"Go on, then!" Rose said, encouragingly. She turned away. "We won't look if that helps. Mum says a good way to overcome stage fright is to have your audience not look at you."

Quirking his eyebrow at Hermione, he saluted her with his second glass of wine. "Dutch courage." After taking a large sip, he thought for a moment, then cleared his throat. He called forth from the rusty depths of memory a hymn sung in the little church his family occasionally attended at Christmas Mass.

"I wonder as I wander out under the sky, how Jesus the Saviour did come for to die?

For poor orn'ry people like you and like I, I wonder as I wander out under the sky."

He sang it clearly, and managed not to make a fool of himself on the higher notes. It was a strange little carol; the vicar at their tiny church had been American, and he'd taught his congregation the song. Even as a boy, Severus had always identified with its plaintive melody, and the melancholy feeling of isolation in the words.

"If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing, a star in the sky or a bird on the wing;

Or all of God's angels in heaven for to sing, he surely would have it for he was the king."

Once again it was as if the clock turned back to those days before magic and Lily and darkness and hopelessness took over his life, and he felt the music and the moment meld into a perfect point as the two witches joined him on the last two lines of the song, harmonising as if they'd all been singing together since, well, forever.

"I wonder as I wander out under the sky, how Jesus the Saviour did come for to die?

For poor orn'ry people like you and like I, I wonder as I wander out under the sky."

As the song ended, Rose and Hermione applauded wildly. "You were terrific, Severus!" Rose enthused, her bright eyes bouncing with the surprised glee all children have when they discover something about an adult they heretofore have not known. "You should have been singing with us all along! We need to sing the whole concert again!"

"No we don't!" Hermione laughed. "There's always next year," she added, looking at him. Her hand touched his again, and she looked at him like, oh gods, like a woman looks at a man, and Severus felt his arousal rear up like a hunger.

Hermione saw the sudden heat spark in his gaze, and her belly felt as if it were swelling, and with it came the sweet admission: I want you, Severus Snape. And I think you want me, too.

Rose, oblivious to the exchange, prattled on about singing, and what songs she was planning to sing at the Burrow the following evening. The mention of tomorrow brought Hermione out of her reverie, and she winked at Severus. With an exaggerated stretch, she made a huge production of yawning and looking at the clock. "Well, Rose, our concert has gone into overtime, and it's getting way past your bedtime." Her voice was faintly chiding. "After all, Father Christmas is very busy and he can't hang about all night."

Rose rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Okay, Mum. I'll go and get ready for-" she put the words in visible quotation marks, using her fingers, "-'Father Christmas'".

Frowning slightly, Severus replied in a parody of his stern, lecturing voice, "I would heed your mother's warnings, Rose. I myself had a word with Father Christmas on your behalf, and while he agrees that you've been a very worthy little girl this year," here he dropped into a heavy Northern accent, "he can't swan about Yorkshire half the night, waiting for you to retire to Bedfordshire."

His reward was a delighted grin from the young girl, and a warm hug. "Good night, Severus. I'm really glad you liked the concert."

For the first time since he'd arrived, Severus planted a swift kiss on the crown of her coppery hair. "Goodnight, Rose. Pleasant dreams."

Rose turned to her mother and hugged her, and the two of them nuzzled noses together. "G'night, Mum. Happy Christmas." With a final beaming smile to Severus, Rose left them. They heard her tread on the stairs, and just as she finished her evening ablutions, Hermione gave Severus a knowing look.

"...And three, two, one..." she breathed, and they both heard Rose's door shut. In an instant, Hermione cast a Muffliato charm on the upstairs door. "If I don't, she'll never go to sleep, and we'll never get it started, much less all put out," Hermione said, and her smile was almost as mischievous as her daughter's.

Close on the heels of the sound-diffusing spell, she cast what to Severus' discerning eye was a rather perfectly executed Patronus. A large, playful otter burst from her wand, and blinked at her flirtatiously. "Rose is finally in bed, so give it about an hour and come on through!"

The otter dashed away, leaving traces of lovely, iridescent magic. Severus watched it leave, and felt a pang of envy; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to conjure a Patronus, either mentally or magically. He almost mentioned it, but stopped himself before the words left his lips; he didn't want to appear maudlin. If and when his magic returned, he believed he would have good reason to cast a Patronus again, and that thought eased his spirit.

Hermione waited until her messenger disappeared completely before gesturing toward the kitchen with a tilt of her head. "That brandy Bill and Fleur sent round yesterday looks promising. Would you like a glass before we start?"

Puzzled, Severus said, "That is the second reference to 'starting.' And yes, by the way, brandy does sound nice."

As they walked into the kitchen, Hermione explained, "Every year, Harry helps me play Father Christmas for Rose. I keep all her gifts secreted away over at Grimmauld Place, and when Rose goes to sleep, Harry brings them over and helps me set them up." She gestured self-deprecatingly. "I like to have her Father Christmas gifts all sitting out, as if the old fellow has just pulled them from his sack, so I don't wrap them beforehand. She already has mountains of wrapped presents from the family, so this is just a little extra thing I've always loved doing."

"I see." He nodded sagely, but the half-smile belied his solemnity. "And since you have a very precocious daughter who is just as adept at solving riddles as her mother was at that age, you can't have them lying around just any old place."

She blushed, flattered that he remembered she had been the one to solve his riddle while helping Harry find the Philosopher's Stone. "Very true," she said with a laugh. "Two years ago I tried. Harry and Ginny have been so good to us, and I wanted to give them a break."

She made a mock shiver. "I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say it was a harrowing experience, trying to stay one step ahead of Sherlock Granger up there. She was like a bloodhound." Hermione's pride was as obvious as her exasperation. "I was exhausted by Christmas Eve just trying to keep coming up with hiding places she couldn't find."

"Merlin forbid," he drawled, but there was no real sarcasm in his voice. "So Mr. Potter will be arriving within the hour to assist you-"

"Nope. He's just bringing the swag. You're playing Father Christmas with me this year," Hermione said with a smile. It faded somewhat when he didn't reply. "That is, if you don't mind. I told Harry he could skip his duties this year." She made a face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to presume-"

"Hermione," he interrupted, "I will be more than happy to assist you with Rose's Father Christmas. Providing I don't have to don the red robe and beard. A bit too Albus for my taste." Hermione's laugh made Severus' heart do a strange little leap in his chest, and he hastily took a gulp of brandy in order to calm it.

The kitchen was cozy and brightly lit, and Severus felt a sense of well-being. Perhaps Christmas, a holiday he'd once avidly deplored, was finally growing on him. Or perhaps it was the simple fact of sitting on a bar stool a mere arm's length from the woman he loved. Being so close to her was at once lovely and disconcerting. His earlier attack of nerves still hung between them, and he was unsure how to proceed.

Hermione seemed to have no qualms in this regard. She leaned against the counter, propped up on her elbows, so close their hands were almost touching. Severus relaxed a little. For a moment, their easy conversation stilled, and there was an awkward silence.

Finally, he spoke. "Hermione, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"

Surprised, she shook her head. "Not at all."

He hesitated for a moment. "Do you miss him? Weasley?"

It was the last question Hermione would have guessed he would ask, and it took her aback momentarily. She pondered for a moment. "I miss our friendship. The three of us." She smiled unapologetically. "I know we weren't your favourites by a long shot, but we cared for one another very much. I miss that.

"To tell the truth, though, if Ronald were still alive, I can't honestly say we'd still be together, even for Rose's sake." She looked at him wistfully. "We were chalk and cheese, after all."

She smiled. "I remember this talk I had with Harry, shortly after Rose was born. I didn't realise it at the time but I was suffering from what Muggles call Post-partum Depression."

"I've heard of it," Severus interjected, nodding encouragement.

"Well, it knocked me for a loop. I moped around for ages. Harry and Ginny were over visiting, and I'd been waxing on about Ron, and how much I missed him, and what a good father he would have been, and what a great provider, and loving husband and all this rubbish..." She chuckled. "Harry let me canonise Ron for about five minutes, and then he just rolled his eyes and said to me, 'Well, I don't know what Ron Weasley you're talking about, but the one I remember could be a right git. He certainly wasn't the saint you've placed on that pedestal you're so desperately polishing!'"

Severus shook his head and Hermione laughed in remembrance. Who knew Boy Potter had such insights?

Hermione continued with a laugh still in her voice, "Oh, I got very indignant, I can assure you! I was defending Ron, saying how wonderful he would have been, and Harry said, 'I'm sure he would have, eventually, but what you can't do is pretend that Ron was anything but what he was.'" She shrugged. "Harry was right, of course. Ron used to drive me mad. I used to fume for hours at his table manners alone!"

They both chuckled, then Hermione grew solemn. "I got very upset at Harry. I couldn't understand why he was being so disloyal. I told him Ron wasn't perfect, but he could've been!

"Well, Harry put the kibosh on that straight away. He told me in no uncertain terms that if I had the least thought that I could've single-handedly changed all of Ron's less-than-angelic habits, I still had a lot to learn about blokes." She looked at Severus thoughtfully. "I tell you - that shut me up! I finally realised that, to love someone, you have to accept who and what they are, and not feel the need to change them. You have to start at ground zero." She sighed. "I suppose if I were perfectly honest, Ron and I would have probably spent more time at one another's throats than in one another's arms, but I always felt sad that we'd never had a chance to find out for sure."

Severus nodded. "I can see that, certainly." He paused. "But you have Rose, and she's the best parts of both of you."

"She is, isn't she?" Hermione said, a mother's pride clearly shining in her eyes. She became solemn again. "Do you still miss her?"

Severus looked mildly surprised. "Who? Lily?" At Hermione's uncertain nod, he sat quietly for several seconds, looking into his brandy glass. "I miss the friendship we made when we first met. Before Hogwarts, when it was just the two of us and I had her all to myself. I couldn't understand why we couldn't stay that way."

He glanced at Hermione. "I used to believe that Hogwarts was to blame for all that happened between us, but it wasn't Hogwarts. It was growing up." He gave a little shrug. "Again, chalk and cheese.

"And like you, when she died, I put her on a pedestal. It's the natural thing to do, but it gives the living no peace, and does the dead no favours." There was a slight bitterness in his tone. "Unfortunately, I didn't have a friend like Potter to prevent me from keeping her there. No, if anything, Dumbledore spent the next seventeen years making sure I kept her on that pedestal, until he no longer had need of either of us."

He looked at Hermione and touched her hand. "But if I've learned anything from these past two months, it's that I've put her back where she belongs. A bittersweet memory of a friend I lost. I've paid my debt to her, and to Dumbledore, and to everyone else." He looked at her intently. "I can start at ground zero now. And Hermione?"

"Yes?"

He hesitantly reached out to stroke her cheek. "I don't want you to wonder or worry about her." His severe features softened. "You will never have to play second fiddle to anyone in my life. Or my heart."

Hermione started, and a smile of such beauty blossomed across her face it took his breath away. For a long moment, the statement hung between them, both fragile and sterling. They held one another's gaze, then her eyes dropped shyly.

"Severus, would you mind me asking you a personal question?"

He smiled wryly. "Believe it or not, I wouldn't."

She took a sip of brandy, as if to give herself courage. In a soft voice that was achingly vulnerable, she asked, "Have you had... many lovers?"

He stilled for a moment, and looked at her appraisingly. Finally he murmured, "Not very many. But I do have a very good imagination." He looked down into his brandy glass, and Hermione could see the reflection of the amber liquid shining in his black eyes.

"That sort of surprises me. Not the good imagination part," she added hastily.

He gave her a questioning look. "Just the part about lovers?"

She leaned in a little closer. "Yes, to be perfectly honest. I imagined you to be quite jaded and experienced."

Severus looked a little nonplussed. "I'm almost sad enough to consider that a compliment. Jaded, yes. Experienced, not overly." He looked at her carefully. "But I do believe sex is more about the giving than the receiving." He stroked the top of her hand. "I have always tried to be a generous lover."

Hermione felt her face grow warm. "It's just that I don't have an awful lot of experience, as you might imagine. And you have to be aware of this persona you have." She was groping blindly, trying not to make a complete muppet of herself. "I mean, some girls, good girls, have a weakness for bad boys."

He sat his glass down on the counter, then turned in his seat until he faced her fully. With more savior faire than he could have ever hoped for, he reached for her and yanked her into his arms with a swift jerk that made her squeak in delight. Tucked between his legs, she felt warm and lushly ripe, and Severus seriously pondered the logistics of sitting her on the counter and-

Looking at her with eyes that threatened to incinerate her, he purred, "Are you one of those good girls who like bad boys, Hermione?"

Lightly placing her hands on his shoulders, she teasingly replied, "I might be. Unless, of course, you would prefer a bad girl." When his smirk grew too smug for description, she added, "I may not have much experience, but I have always been a fast learner."

He gently slid his hands around her waist, urging her closer, then he nuzzled her neck, murmuring, "Why don't we just see how we go then, hmm?" He placed a slow, soft kiss against the slim, satiny column of her throat. When she whimpered and pressed against him, he mentally counted to ten before he trusted himself to speak without quavering. He purred, "I'll be very patient, and you will tell me what pleases you, won't you?" She shivered, and he felt lightheaded with anticipation.

"Oh, you'll know," she whispered unsteadily. "Believe me, you'll know. But don't stop experimenting on my account."

With a devilish grin, he took her head in his large, warm hands and kissed her. It was not the kiss he had taken from her in the Forest of Dean; this kiss was all about giving. Hermione clutched his shoulders as his surprisingly soft mouth suckled her own, nuzzling her lips with sensual, teasing caresses. His kisses were sweet; brandy-flavoured, with a taste uniquely his, and before she could stop herself Hermione delved between his warm, parted lips with her tongue to explore him. He froze; then with a moan he enveloped her in his arms and proceeded to turn her blood to fire. He ravished her mouth with his own, nipping, licking, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth with a little, teasing bite that turned her hips to sponge.

Long, slim fingers slid through her hair, gently turning her, instructing her on how to fully enjoy him. His long tongue slid into her mouth and she sucked on it wantonly, making a hungry little growling noise that inflamed him and he stood, pulling her closer to devour her more completely, until they were straining against one another.

Gradually, as their desire-fueled kisses left them breathless and panting, she peppered his throat with tiny kisses, unable to get enough of him. He sighed, aching with desire for her. Even with an erection that could cut glass, even insensate with need, he forced himself to act unhurried and patient. His voice was incredibly smooth, even to his own ears. As he palmed a breast and squeezed gently, he purred, "Why don't we take this somewhere a little more private?"

"Love to," she moaned, arching against his large, warm hand. Her eyes were shining with want as he closed the gap, and his lips were a breath away from joining his hand. "But-"

The Floo roared into life, and they jumped away from one another, as if shocked by static electricity.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Typical Harry. Timing like shit." She patted Severus' arm, and with a look of sincere regret, pulled away. Transfiguring her slinky robes into Muggle jeans and a t-shirt, she grabbed his hand and pulled him from the kitchen. "Come on. The sooner we get this done," she said, her eyes bright and glowing with heat, "the sooner we can take this somewhere a little more private."