Five: Christmas Eve 2009/ Yule Ball 2005

Anti-Litigation Charm: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. All characters are property of JK Rowling. If they did belong to me, Severus Snape would be alive and well and sipping cocoa in his nightshirt right now, reading his favourite book and enjoying the Christmas holidays.

Christmas Eve 2009

She fell through the night, not caring that she fell free. She felt no fear - only the slicing, vicious, unrelenting grief that never dulled, never lost its razor edge, even as she plummeted downward in the frigid cold of the Scottish night. She tasted his name on her lips; it was the only thing that numbed the pain.

Severus...Husband...Lover...Black-Eyed Angel... She made no noise as she fell through the night. The lake below her looked cold; it also looked kind ...

And then his arms were around her. The impact of colliding with him stole her breath and screamed in terror, and for a moment she fought against him. She turned to find him smiling down at her, his long hair flying out behind him.

"S-Severus?"

He smiled at her almost lazily, and his arms tightened. "Shh. Calm, little one. I'm here. I have you."

Grateful to whatever gods had granted her this moment with him, Hermione wept, and he held her, murmuring sweet words of comfort to her, and she gave into the thrill of this last, best flight.

He was strong, and flying with him was always thrilling, exciting, sexually charged with his personal heat. When he wrapped her in his arms and took her into the air, their flight became another form of making love. Usually, when they landed, they were so adrenaline-fueled and randy, they could barely make it back to their chambers.

Hermione had flown with him so many times before, and although he was ever vigilant, and made every attempt to keep her safe, she never quite lost the pants-wetting fear of falling. As careful as he always was, there had never been a time she was not afraid.

Until tonight.

This vaguely troubled her, but for the life of her she couldn't understand why. She looked at him and breathed in his scent. There was none in the frigid cold air.

He carried her over the Forbidden Forest; they flew over the houses of Hogsmeade. She knew it was him; even with her eyes shut, she knew the familiar feeling of his strong arms around her waist as he flew. It always thrilled her to watch him fly without the use of a broom. It was a drain on his magic, but he loved to fly, and she knew why. He was free when he flew. Free to be the boy forever denied. Free to laugh, to cry, to sing. When she flew with him, he allowed her to see those things in any season, not just in the dark of winter.

She opened her eyes to see her husband. He looked different somehow. He was as dark as the night, and as pale and beautiful as the moonlight. He kissed her as they flew, higher and higher.

"My sweet girl," he crooned, and held her close.

"My black-eyed angel," she wept, blessing the gods for this last flight.

He shook his head and kissed her cheeks. "No tears, my darling girl." Higher they flew, the air so cold she could barely breathe. She began to gasp in the thin and insufficient air.

Still, she held onto him, trusting, loving, knowing he would be there and never let her fall.

"They didn't let me say goodbye," she sobbed, holding him, kissing his cold cheeks.

"Because you don't have to," he rumbled, and higher he climbed. "We will never say goodbye."

"I love you," she answered pitifully, knowing this fantastic flight would end soon.

"I love you, my girl," he said, smiling, and kissed her numb lips softly. "Hold on. I will never let go."

Higher and higher. His arms were strong, and the night was cold. She drifted away...her black eyed angel...She nestled against his neck. "Take us home, Severus."

"I am, my love. We are going home." They swooped closer still to...she didn't care. She cared only for his arms, his flight, his gift.

She closed her eyes and gave in to him....

Christmastide 2005

They left the West Wing Tower and walked the darkened halls in silence. Occasionally, she would lean against him as they walked, and he would place a soft kiss on the top of her head. Her hand never left his as they entered his chambers.

There was a fire blazing in the stone fireplace, its bright, flickering flame giving everything in the room the appearance of being gilded with gold leaf. They both gasped as they walked into his bedroom. The bed looked as big as a barge, and the mahogany posts that sat on each corner were at least ten feet tall and as wide around as a man's waist. Every inch of wood was groaning with ornate, rococo carvings, and the bed itself was covered in a velvet comforter of the deepest midnight blue. A canopy overhead was enchanted like the Great Hall to show the night sky, full of stars and snow.

It was a bed solemnly swearing to be up to no good.

"Well. That's... quite interesting," Severus observed, rather nonplussed. "The castle apparently decides what type of bed the Headmaster will need." He was as bemused as Hermione was impressed. "I will confess, I left a much simpler, much smaller bed this morning."

Hermione grinned. Looks like the castle had a little idea that Severus might get lucky. Out loud, she answered, "Perhaps it felt that another bed was...more appropriate for tonight."

"Indeed," he said, as mystified as she. He turned and looked at her, and his expression softened. He became serious as he took her in his arms. His kiss was gentle, almost chaste. He took his time, his lips soft, his tongue teasing and maddeningly elusive. Gradually his embrace tightened, and the kiss deepened, his body molding against hers as he slowly suckled against her lips. She drank the soft, whimpering moans from his mouth.

She was not as patient as he; Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him to her, reaching on tip-toe to battle her mouth with his, their tongues dueling for dominance. Severus growled in his throat as he sensed her ferocity. He grasped her face in his hands and swooped down upon her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. His kiss became a demanding, domineering thing that stole her breath and will.

She ground against him, and his hands slid down her over her ribs and gripped her waist; his arms pulled her against an erection that was so hard, it bruised her pelvis, and so hot it burned her. He drank of her, his tongue teasing the roof of her mouth. Hermione had never wanted a man so much. She was seconds away from dropping to her knees and begging him to fuck her.

She made a little sweet little mewling sound of need that inflamed his desire, engorging his cock into a raging erection that throbbed almost painfully with each heartbeat. It had been too long; he wouldn't last, but he would make damn sure she enjoyed herself while he recovered. He had wanted her for a long time; if he was perfectly honest with himself, he had wanted her since the day he sat and watched her defend him to the Wizengamot, like a beautiful, young avenging angel.

No one had ever spoken on his behalf, and certainly not with that level of passion or righteousness. Not even Potter had defended him with such fervor.

Afterward, when Severus had taken her hand and she'd told him he deserved happiness, it had taken all his will not to fall to her feet and weep in gratitude. He told himself it was exhaustion, his frame of mind, relief.

He told himself Hermione Granger felt sorry for him, and held him in low esteem. He had left as quickly as he could, before she allowed the pity and revulsion to show, but it never did. All through the press conference that followed he cursed himself as the coward she no doubt thought he was.

And now, this lovely young witch was in his arms, pleading silently for him to make love to her, and he was damned if he would disappoint her. If he had his way, he would ensure she would never want to leave his bed again.

Hermione clung to him, and he gradually pulled his mouth away from hers in a series of slow, delicious kisses that were decadent and languid. She closed her eyes and pressed against him, silently pleading for him to kiss her again.

When he did not respond, she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, blazing with such intensity, her nipples contracted, and she felt her clitoris pulsate. He was as fierce and as taut as she had ever seen him, dark and demanding, and, as his hands tightened around her arms, his words shocked and excited her.

"Run, little girl," he hissed, and she looked up at him, confused. His grip on her tightened further, almost painfully. "Run now, or stay forever. I told you, I don't share, and I no longer play games. I want you so much I can barely make a fist. But know this: if I take you tonight, you belong to me. I'll never let you go."

Hermione shook her head, and tried to soothe him. "I don't want to go anywhere."

His grip loosened imperceptibly. "Be sure, my little lioness. Once you lie down with me, it wouldn't matter where you go. The deepest valleys, the highest mountains, the largest chasms, the strongest battlements wouldn't keep me away from you. I'll find you and bring you back to me."

Hermione felt tears well in her eyes. How do you tell someone they are threatening you with the very thing you've always wanted? She freed her arms from his iron grasp and cupped his face with her hands.

"I promise you, Severus Snape, you will never have to work that hard to keep me."

His expression changed, and his grip gentled until he was softly kneading her arms. There was a look of sheer want and relief on his face that was heart wrenching, and not for the first time Hermione marveled that, after all this fine man had been through, he still had the capacity to hope, to give love.

Determined to show him exactly how much he meant to her, she reached on tiptoe and kissed him with all the feeling she had for him, past, present and future. He accepted it gratefully and pulled her to him swiftly, returning her kiss with lips that were hungry and as greedy as he'd promised. She heard a feral, growling noise of pleasure and realized it was herself.

She snaked one hand down to his groin and felt his erection return, swift and needy. He groaned into her mouth, teasing his tongue against hers until she squeezed his cock firmly.

He broke from her then, panting, eyes closed. "If you wish me to have any longevity at all, Hermione, you might want to stop doing that." He ventured a small puff of laughter. "It's been longer than I care to confess since..."

"Shh," she whispered, her lips almost touching his. "It doesn't matter. We can take care of that quickly. I can take the edge off. I want to. Let me pamper you tonight."

The sweet, soft sound that escaped him almost made Hermione's heart stop beating. She made a silent vow that she'd do whatever it took to hear that sound coming from Severus Snape again. It was so deliciously, almost innocently erotic, Hermione realized that, for all the things he'd seen and done, he was as fresh and fervent as she'd been when she'd lost her virginity...

"Stand still," she commanded, and he almost laughed again. There wasn't much else he could do at this point without embarrassing himself in a rather spectacular fashion. Hermione quietly removed his beautiful robe, laying it carefully over his chair. She walked around behind him and unclasped his long, silky hair. Freed from its confines, it felt like heaven sliding through her fingers and looked like the soft, black mane of a beautiful horse. Hermione had a sudden vision of it spilling over his pillow as she rode him like one...

She walked around to face him and looked at his body. It was so pale, licked by the firelight, and she could see the fading scars where Nagini had attacked him. His Dark Mark was nothing more than a smudge on his forearm, and she looked up into his face and was surprised at the humiliation she found there.

She put her arm around his waist, and he reluctantly allowed it. "No, you don't, Severus Snape. No shame tonight." Surprised, he looked down at her, and deep within his self-consciousness was the dawning hope that once again made her heart ache for him.

She pressed against his cool flesh, inhaling his scent. With eyes that glowed with arousal, she whispered, "Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are, Severus? Have you any idea how stunning you are?"

He looked down at this lovely woman, his mouth dry, and in that moment he almost launched a patented biting, sarcastic, quintessential Snape remark. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and in the past he wouldn't have hesitated to release the arrow from the bow, but seeing her face, feeling her soft, warm hands sliding over his body, he felt the need to reconsider.

"No, Hermione," he finally replied, his voice dark and warm, his eyes moist. "No one has ever considered me beautiful. Perhaps," he said, gently, lowering his lips to hers, "You're blinded by desire." Her soft tongue snaked out and entered his mouth, and as he sucked on it, his cock strained painfully against her belly.

Hermione broke the kiss and smiled as she nipped his lower lip. "I have perfect vision, Severus. My beautiful Severus..." She placed a soft kiss on his chest, then touched her tongue to each nipple. Her teeth nipped playfully at each pert little bud, and she smiled as he gasped at the sensation. His hands slid along her throat, and caressed her face as he kissed her forehead. He was almost panting, and at that moment, Hermione thought she might die of desire for the man.

She slid down his body, placing kisses on his chest, his flat stomach, his groin. He released her hair from its pins and it tumbled down her back in long, heavy ribbons. He threaded his long fingers around her scalp as she knelt down and removed his footwear. His feet were long and thin, and freed from his black dragon-hide boots, they looked surprisingly vulnerable. She stroked them, then on impulse, she leaned completely down and kissed the top of each foot. They were cool to the touch; as smooth and white as marble.

She ventured a glance upward, unsure of what she would find. He was watching her, rapt, his long hair framing his face. His eyes were huge and so dark the fire reflected in them, flickering red in the light. She smiled up at him, and ran her warm hands over his calves, his strong thighs, enjoying the hint of power in their shape, the cool white of his skin contrasting with the sparse black hairs on his body.

On impulse, she put her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his crotch. His cock was incredibly hot through his black pants, and when her hands slid from his waist and grasped the waistband of his boxers he swore softly. She could see his hands curling into fists to stop them from trembling.

She smiled. "Shh. Shh, my love. Calm." She lowered his boxers to his feet, and he stepped out of them. Hermione tossed them aside and looked up at his cock for the first time. It was large, uncircumcised and so blood-engorged, it was almost purple. Large veins stood out over its length as it jutted from a thatch of black, wiry pubic hair. He smelled delicious, and Hermione realized her mouth was watering. "Beautiful," she breathed. "You are the most beautiful wizard, Severus."

His scrotum was large and when she gently cupped his sac it felt so heavy and tight she knew he wouldn't last long. Stroking his balls with one hand, she pumped his shaft several times until he was gasping and his hips were thrusting against her hands. She teased him for several seconds, reveling in his beauty, until she could no longer resist and took him almost balls deep into her mouth.

Severus staggered backward for a moment, and cried out, holding onto her as if his knees threatened to buckle. She withdrew him from her mouth and looked up at his face. He was looking down at her, drinking in the sight of her, with a look of stunned pleasure. Hermione licked the tip of his cock, and suckled on it, and he placed his warm hands on either side of her face, and watched as his shaft moved in and out of her lovely, warm mouth.

She looked up as his head tilted slightly. His eyes almost rolled back in his head as they slid closed. His lips were parted; he was completely abandoned to the feeling of her mouth pleasuring him. She'd never seen a man so transported with such intense bliss, and it filled her with a sense of power she'd never before experienced. The knowledge that she was giving this particular man this much pleasure was intoxicating. She understood then that Severus Snape would be a very addictive passion. There were so many aspects of him to explore, and she would never tire of him as long as he allowed it.

She released his cock from her mouth, still stroking him firmly. "Do you need to sit down?" she said, sincerely. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him. He opened his eyes and looked down on her with such bewilderment she almost laughed, but the laughter died in her throat at the look of raw, helpless desire on his face.

"Merlin's balls, witch," he panted. "Don't stop. Please don't stop. I'm so close...oh, fuck, yes..." he moaned helplessly as she obliged him, sucking and licking his cock, stroking his perineum with her fingers. He was, indeed, close to orgasm, and, quickly muttering a lubrication spell she'd learned long ago (thank you again, Viktor!), Hermione reached beyond his perineum, and teased the skin around his anus very gently.

Severus truly didn't feel it as a separate sensation, so pleasurable was her mouth and her hands on him. He was thrusting into her mouth with abandon, feeling his balls tingling with that familiar, delicious sensation he had denied himself so long... Sweet Nimue, what is she doing?

He barely registered the slender finger that gently slid into his rectum and pressed firmly against his prostate. The only thing that made sense to him was his cock and his balls and the delicious feel of this little witch's mouth on him and ...

"Fuck! Yes! Oh...goddess...com... I'm coming! Hermione!" he shouted, and grabbed her head, pulling her to him almost painfully. She held on, feeling his semen hitting the back of her throat like lava. He cried out with every thrust, his voice hot as a tiger's. He had never come as hard as this or for as long as this and he shouted this fact to the room, shouted his pleasure and this painful intensity of feeling, and his possessiveness, as he held her to his body. "Never...let you go...delicious succubus...mine!"

He collapsed against a nearby chair, dazed and exhausted, gasping for breath, for sanity. When he finally gained enough sensibility to open his glazed eyes, he was greeted with the sight of his Transfigurations Mistress, still on her knees, hair disheveled, mouth lusciously swollen, grinning at him.

"When I regain the use of my limbs, witch, you're going to be in trouble," he rumbled, and was rewarded with a breathless laugh. She slowly pulled herself to her feet, kicked off her shoes, and began to remove her robe.

"No." She froze, puzzled.

Severus stood shakily, still doped on the endorphins she'd dumped into his system. "That is my happy task. Patience, pet. You've left me weak as water. I'm not a young man anymore, you know."

In spite of his declaration, he rose and approached her with the lithe grace of a panther, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her in his arms and kissed her into insensibility, reveling in the taste of her mouth, still coated with his essence. No one had ever kissed her like this, with lips that were soft and hot and so demanding. His hands threaded fully into her hair and he tilted her head, angling her mouth against his as his tongue teased and danced with hers. His kisses were powerful and intoxicating, and Hermione clung to him, moaning, more aroused than she thought possible and ready to tear him apart if he didn't make love to her soon. He seemed to understand this.

The spell to remove her clothing was on his lips, but at the last moment he changed his mind. "A package this beautifully wrapped deserves to be unwrapped with equal care," he purred, and she smiled as their lips met.

"Who knew Severus Snape had such a honeyed tongue?" she murmured into his mouth. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled, as his nimble fingers made light work of her buttons.

"I seriously doubt I've demonstrated it in the best light before," he murmured, as his hands moved lower. "I do, however, plan to rectify that very shortly, my girl." He was rewarded with another one of her wicked little grins that made even his sated cock rethink a lie down.

As she stood and allowed him to undress her, she remembered the day of her interview, and the almost liminal moment when he buttoned her cloak. She had thought the gesture to be imminently intimate. It was nothing compared to this slow undressing, and the way he looked at her as he removed her clothing. She had known the man capable of the greatest, most fearsome concentration, but never had she thought all of it would be trained on her. It was an act of love in and of itself.

When the cloak fell to the floor and she was left in her bra and knickers, he gasped in shock at the long scar that ran down the length of her body. It was an old curse scar, and she became self-conscious as she closed her eyes. "At the Department of Mysteries, when we were fifteen. Dolohov cursed me."

"Oh, love. I had no idea." His fingers touched the old wound gently, and, just as she had kissed his feet, he knelt and kissed the scar reverently. He looked up at her with an expression of respect and admiration, and Hermione once again felt near tears. "My beautiful, brave girl." His arms went around her almost worshipfully. In an unconscious imitation of her, he pressed against her and nuzzled against her sweetly scented body.

Blinking back tears, she whispered, "I don't think I ever longed for praise from anyone in school as much as I did from you ." She smiled down at him, kneeling at her feet. "Hearing you call me that is almost more than I can take."

He looked up at her solemnly. "Then I will continue to be sparing. It won't do to have my Transfigurations Mistress unable to perform her duties." He smirked as he rose to his feet. "But for now, I think you'll just have to adjust. Close your eyes, my sweet girl. I rather like surprising you."

Dutifully, she closed her eyes as he walked around her. He smiled as he peeled her knickers from her hips and removed them. A soft sound of pleasure rumbled from him, and Hermione cried out softly as his large hands closed over her bottom. His dark chuckle made her shudder, her lust almost overpowering rational thought.

His voice was like velvet sliding over her body, and his warm hands felt strong and safe. "I've wondered, witch, if this delicious bottom of yours would fit into my hands," he purred, as each pert little globe of her heart-shaped bottom sat as sweetly cupped in his palms as he'd envisioned earlier.

Hermione hummed in pleasure as he squeezed tenderly. Nuzzling her ear, he rumbled, "Mmm, what a delectable morsel you are, Hermione."

His satiny mouth slid over her neck, and he nipped at her shoulder as he unfastened her bra. It joined the rest of her clothes on the chair, and then his large hands were cupping her breasts, his long fingers tweaking and plucking her nipples so knowingly, Hermione growled. It was a sharp, feral sound, as acute and sharp as a whiff of petrol and as inflammatory to Severus' senses. He scratched the top of a nipple with his fingernail, and Hermione felt she would gush onto the floor. The man knew how to tease a witch into madness.

He pulled her body against him, and slipped a large, warm hand between her thighs. She was whimpering now, pleading with him to touch her. "Oh, yes, my sweet girl. I'll 'take the edge off' for you," he purred softly, and a long finger slipped between her labia and circled her clitoris with such perfect accuracy that her knees buckled and she would have fallen, had he not held her with another strong, encompassing arm.

He crooned in her ear as his talented fingertip played her body. "So wet...perfection...I know, pet, I know...I'll take you there, I promise...are you going to be my good girl and come for me?" His stunning voice was a sexual instrument itself and twinned with his knowing fingers, it made Hermione shudder and mewl with longing .

"Severus...oh, fuck..."

She tensed, his tender ministrations making her keen and shake, and he answered her cries with an appreciative moan of want. Just as she neared the top of this devastating wave, he stepped away from her, removing his hand and letting go so quickly she stumbled forward with a cry of loss.

She turned, to find him licking her moisture from his fingers, an expression of pure lust in his lidded eyes. He regarded her silently, then gestured to his left. "Get on the bed. On your hands and knees, Hermione." He was stern and unsmiling. "Gods, girl, if you want this, lie down for me."

With trembling legs, Hermione walked to the bed, crawling upon the velvet comforter. She had never felt such naked desire, and when she turned and looked over her shoulder at him with a scorching look full of primal lust, he felt his body react and his cock roared to life so quickly it left him dizzy.

He stood at the end of the bed, watching her, their eyes locked. She was panting like a wild animal, and finally she whispered, "Severus, please. Gods, I've waited for you for so long..."

His fierce look of arousal made her moan with anticipation. He took his cock in hand and stroked it, almost absently. When she was almost sure he would drive her mad, simply standing there, looking down at her, touching himself, he moved over her so quickly she gasped in surprise.

"How long, Hermione? How long have you wanted this?" His voice was losing its beguiling silk, taking on a ragged edge that, if anything, excited her further. "Tell me, and I'll give you everything you want."

"Since the moment I met you," she groaned, and she felt the bed behind her shift.

"Wicked little witch," he marveled, his voice sounding so sexy and sinful, Hermione arched her back in frustration. "I should spank you for your inappropriate thoughts, Miss Granger."

For a moment Hermione thought her heart might stop beating. "Oh yes, please," she whispered, feeling the delicious taboo sensation of asking for something so...bad.

She heard his soft intake of breath. "Naughty girl. Does this mean, little one, that you have harboured... detention fantasies?"

She couldn't see him, but she felt his warm hand slide down her back from her shoulder to her bottom and she gave him a shaky, breathless giggle. "What do you think? I'm an arch swot and you're my brooding, dark professor. Of course, I've had deten-"

Smack! The hand that spanked her was not hard but the sound echoed amazingly loudly in the room. Hermione squeaked, as an electric pulse jolted from her cunt up her spine to her already overloaded brain. "Oh gods," she whimpered, and pushed her bottom back toward him, an invitation to continue.

Severus watched her carefully. His heart was pounding and Hermione's reaction when he spanked her gorgeous bottom almost made him come again. He smirked to himself. He'd spent more years than he could count being a good actor for the Order, and the thought of doing it for fun had never crossed his mind...until now.

"Why, Miss Granger, I think you enjoyed being spanked by your professor." His voice could not have sounded more lasciviously wicked had he taken lessons from Lucifer himself.

Her only answer was another little mewl of longing. It really was all she was capable of at that precise moment.

"Well, my girl, we shall see about this," he purred, and began to slap her backside in earnest with the flat of his hand. He didn't spank her, precisely. This was not meant as punishment. Oh, no; his punishment was far more teasing and devastating. He would never dream of hurting her; she was too precious to him. Each tap was more like a bump, or a push that made an obscene, wet, smacking sound. With each tap, his hand became increasingly wet, and Hermione moaned deliriously.

Just as she thought he might allow her to come, he ceased his soft disciplining and she felt the bed shift again as he knelt behind her. A soft puff of air caused her to jump as Severus' stroked her tender bottom and gently pulled apart the cheeks of her bum. Surely, oh not that, not on her-

Oh, fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck-

The sensation of his tongue sliding in and around and over the tiny sphincter was joined with a very softly stroking finger over her clit, and as she babbled out loud, he laughed against the little puckered hole. The vibrations shot up her spine, and her thighs trembled and shook so hard, she almost collapsed onto the mattress.

For several moments he kissed and nipped and stroked until she was once again crying his name and begging for release. Just as she was again at the brink, he stopped, forcing her to calm down again. She growled obscenities and pounded her hands on the mattress in frustration.

"Temper, temper, Miss Granger," he crooned, enjoying the power of giving her pleasure. "Shall I continue?"

"You-you bas-tormenting, incu-SEVERUS!" she wailed, thrusting her bottom against him like the lovely lioness in heat she was.

He affectionately placed a gentle kiss directly on the tiny little pucker, and it quivered so sweetly he kissed it again. She was mewling at him now, and he soothed her with his large hands.

"There, there, little one," he cooed, babying and petting her. "I apologise for tormenting you." He wrapped his arms around her waist and, as if she weighed no more than a child, he gently turned her over onto her back.

Hermione lay before him, arms stretched overhead, eyes tightly closed, her face taut with passion. To Severus, she looked like a pagan sacrifice, beautifully prepared for his ritual. He loomed over her and kissed her, forcing her into the mattress, his tongue stroking against hers, drinking the moans from her, and in that moment, his mind opened to her, and she saw his desire for her. It was so raw and exposed, so fearful and needy, she wanted to weep.

He lowered his mouth to her nipple, and she keened her pleasure into the room. His lips and tongue teased and nipped and sucked, and as he feasted on one peachy, hardened bud, his hand twinned his movements on the other. Hermione threaded her fingers into his dark hair, feverishly kissing his forehead.

He moved lower, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down her belly so hot she was surprised there were no marks to show his passage down to her core. At the apex of her thighs he paused, and his nostrils quivered as he closed his eyes.

"Your scent...I could smell you...in the tower...your arousal. It's like a perfume." He looked down at her mons, and breathed a sigh full of desire and promise. "So lovely. So plump and rosy." He pursed her swollen labia together with his thumbs, then gently pulled them apart, fascinated. "So wet. I've wondered how you taste..."

A long, pointed tongue swiped ever so gently along the cleft of her labia, and Hermione sobbed with pleasure. Severus placed soft, gentle kisses over the outer flesh, then parted her nether lips. Her clitoris was as red as a ruby and engorged, peaking from beneath its hood of flesh, and he smiled inwardly.

"I think I'm ready to make you come, my pet," he purred, and he felt the beautiful woman beneath him tense. "You are so sweet, and I'm so hungry..." He pushed against the glistening, sweetly scented petals of her cunt so quickly she screamed, and her entire body locked in a rictus of pleasure as he buried his tongue into her dripping folds.

Hermione wailed into the room, her body burning and aching. Severus knew exactly what he was doing and her body recognized him as its perfect master and she knew it would be the best orgasm she had ever experienced.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, between his teeth, and began to flick his tongue over it expertly. Two long fingers slipped into her tight channel and she bucked and writhed against him. A loan moan in his throat reverberated through her core, and she felt the orgasm rushing down so quickly, she could only grasp his hair and hold him to his task.

The wave seemed to pull her entire body inward, and then she was gone, flying apart, shattering over and over as she screamed into the room with each pulsing, throbbing spasm of her body. And still he tortured her clit, worrying it with his lips and tongue, his fingers curling inward, seeking and finding the spongy tissue hidden within her and rubbing it relentlessly.

"Stop! Gods, stop, Severus!" she cried, her body thrashing on the bed. "I can't take much more!"

"You'll take everything I give you, little girl," he growled, his voice carnal and unholy with lust, and she did. She was soon blown like a leaf through the gale of her second orgasm, sobbing, tears of release and joy streaming from her eyes, babbling, saying things to him she'd never said to another man in her entire life.

Even as her second orgasm threatened to destroy her sanity, he rose over her and with one swift, sure stroke, he sank his cock into her. His moan of pure bliss answered hers, and he stilled as he felt her tight, sweet passage clench and grasp him. His face held a soft smile of wonder and completion, as he waited for her body to accept him, feeling her stretch and pulse around him.

And then his smile twisted, turned into something like his trademark sneer, of pure lust. In that moment, Hermione knew she was lost to him. He was sexy as sin and he felt like heaven inside her, and if he didn't move soon she would die...

"Severus, please..."

His laughter was wicked. "I do love hearing you beg, pet." He withdrew and plunged into her, making them both cry out with the pleasure of it. "Beg me, Hermione," he growled, his dark eyes blazing with hunger. "Tell me what need, my goddess."

She reached for him, and kissed him fiercely. "Severus, please. Please move....I need you to move...I need you to fuck me." Her words rose to a wail as he withdrew again and slammed into her, pounding into her, vowing to make her scream his name...

He drove into her with hips that bucked and rolled sensuously against hers, watching her face for every nuance of expression. Being inside her felt like being sheathed in the hottest, wettest tightest mouth, and he wanted to give into the pleasure. Warring with his selfishness was the overwhelming desire to please her. She was crying out with each deep, pulsating thrust into her body, and soon he was past caring, giving in to the demands of his body, fusing with her, knowing she was close to coming again and that he alone had the power to make her.

He could feel her body tensing, and increased his rhythm. He reared up over her, and, hooking the backs of her knees over the crook of his arms, began to fuck her in lightning fast strokes, hitting that spot within with each stroke, her pleas and moans and cries like music to him.

He was too rough with her, but she urged him on, and he could feel her pulling away from him inside, like a wave dragging back in the vicious undertow of something so huge it would swallow them both. Panting, keening, Hermione looked up into his eyes and saw his fierce concentration and intensity focused solely on her.

His eyes were black and she was drowning in them, and when he parted his beautiful lips and said, "You know what I want to hear, Hermione. Come for me and give me what I want. Give it to me now, my lovely girl," Hermione felt the tension pull back with the wave and she was let loose as if she had been fired from a cannon. "Good girl," he praised, urging her toward her orgasm. "Yess...that's it, my pet, that's it...be my good girl, Hermione...come for me...such a lovely, good....ah, gods...come for me now!"

She screamed his name, and it sounded like an incantation to invoke a demon.

Over and over she screamed his name, as her body thrashed and throbbed and pulsed through her orgasm. Her cunt was sucking at his cock like a greedy mouth and he popped inside her once, twice, thrice, then froze as his semen shot from him into her waiting, accepting body. He roared his completion, a harsh, desolate, howling sound. It was the sound of a man coming who does not want to come; a man who covets his lover, and in return, wants to be coveted for his prowess.

They shuddered and clung to each other so tightly both were soon struggling to breathe, yet neither wished to relinquish their grip. Finally, when Hermione's passion-drugged mind cleared somewhat, she relaxed and gathered him in her arms, kissing his damp hair.

"Oh, gods, that was... unbelievable. Thank you, Severus, oh thank you," she said, her voice hoarse and shaking. "I-I don't have the words."

Severus found that he, too, was unable to speak. He was gasping for breath, his heart skittering madly in his chest. He'd not had a workout like that in years and he was praying not to die from it. For one thing, he wanted to survive with enough energy to do it again, repeatedly, if possible, and for another, it would be extremely embarrassing to die from sex – especially sex this good.

This had transcended the physical act to something almost spiritual. In those last seconds, as they both roared to their completion, he was convinced they had touched something...divine.

He finally settled for collapsing against Hermione's soft, inviting body, and for a long while, he was content to lie against her, feeling her fingertips ghosting over his back. She stroked and petted him, and he shifted until she felt like the most welcoming pillow, and he drifted off, a smile playing about his lips.

For almost an hour, Hermione stroked and soothed him. It was a wonderful feeling; this larger-than-life man, snuggled up to her, his breathing deep and even. His long eyelashes looked like ink strokes against his face, and his long hair lay soft against her skin. He shifted, and made a sweet little boyish sigh of contentment, and it carved into her heart that, of all people in the world, she, Hermione Jean Granger, was the recipient of it. He was warm and fragrant and fit exactly against her body.

She caressed him and held his head to her breast, and welcomed him into her heart.

Later, when he awoke, desperate for the loo and a drink of water, he rose from her body guiltily, until he saw the look in her eyes. Wordlessly, he lowered himself back into her embrace, and kissed her. At that moment, he was sure she was going nowhere. In her eyes, he was the man he'd wanted to be. She was his home.

They made a brief appearance the next day for the Christmas Feast, then returned to his chambers. They did not see the smug looks exchanged by Minerva McGonagall and Madam Hooch, nor the galleons that changed hands. They saw little, in fact, beyond each other.

By the end of the Winter Holidays, they were inseparable both in and out of bed. It was an unspoken thing; being together was just easier than not.

Finally, the night before students were to return for the second term, an agreement had been made. Lying in the massive bed, gasping, sweat-soaked and doped on post-coital backlash, Severus lay warm and sleepy at the breast of his lover. He felt ten years younger and his body was singing with pleasure and exhaustion. He had just placed a kiss of profound gratitude on the side of her lovely, creamy breasts and had smiled at her little purr of contentment.

Reluctantly rising from the soft warm bed that was Hermione, he looked down at her and rasped, "I think you will need to marry me, Hermione. I don't believe I will be able to sleep in this bed unless you are in it."

Looking up into his angular face, his messy hair and pale, alabaster skin, flushed from the orgasm they'd just shared, Hermione had no intention of saying no. She didn't even have to voice it aloud, and he sighed in relief, and nuzzled back into the warm, sweet softness of her welcoming body. It was then he sang to her for the first time, and as his voice rumbled through her, she closed her eyes, as tears of happiness slid into the pillow.

No one really believed that she, little bookwormish Hermione Granger, could breathe new life in the passion of Severus Snape. Her friends had been stunned to find her in his arms. They'd been even more stunned to see them happy together. More than any, Harry Potter seemed the most...concerned.

But, above all, they had been happy. Five years later had seen them both healthy, their relationship strong and planning children. Together they had exorcised the demons of their respective pasts, finding first friendship, then passion, in one another. Each felt completed, enobled by the other.

They liked one another. They 'got' it, where one another was concerned. The anally retentive swot and the insecure recluse found the missing pieces of the puzzle with each other.

The curious had been quietly, courteously rebuffed. The Prophet had been given a tasteful, fifteen minute interview. The paper had entitled the article The Master Spy and his War Hero Bride: A Tale of Two Lovers On Both Ends Of The War. They had laughed about it. The two of them had retreated back to Hogwarts, where students and faculty had been speculative, then curious, then accepting, then disinterested.

So determined was he to be a good Headmaster, the article said, he almost didn't hire Hermione, citing her youth, her inexperience. He himself had not wanted the Headmasters post, but his fellow teachers had been insistent.

He joked for years afterward that they'd fobbed it on him because no one else wanted it, so they'd stacked the deck with the Board of Governors. The Board, returning from the war with their tails tucked between their legs, told everyone it was the 'noble' decision. They'd not been happy with the article.

"Bugger the article," Severus had grumbled at the following Board meeting. "Replace me. I didn't want the bloody position in the first place." He'd made to stalk out of the room, only to be met with several hands raised in placation. The devil they knew, apparently was better than the devil of having to expend any energy looking for a replacement. Severus had allowed himself a smirk, then turned a haughty face to his Board, sighed with the longsuffering air of a Slytherin martyr, and agreed to remain, on the provision that his marriage to Hermione Granger would no longer be an issue.

It never was again.

Christmas Eve 2009

Severus Snape sat unmoving at the bedside of his wife. She tossed and turned in a delirium of fever, moaning his name, crying pitifully for him. "Don't leave, Severus, please! I can't bear it. Why did you leave?"

He stroked her burning forehead, his face close to hers. "I'm here, my sweet girl. I will never leave you." He turned as he saw a very worried Madam Pomfrey enter the room, a glass vial in her hand.

"This is the latest serum we have, Severus," Poppy said, her eyes frightened and resigned. "If this doesn't work, I'm afraid-" She hesitated, then turned away.

"I'm afraid we'll lose her."

He ignored Poppy. Hermione wasn't going to awake. He didn't deserve for her to wake. He gathered Hermione in his arms and wept for his sweet, lost girl. He had done this. He was to blame.