Eighteen: I’ll Be Thunder, You’ll Be Lightning

Anti-Litigation Charm: None of the characters belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling, who let my entire reason for reading the Harry Potter series bleed to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I'm building a better world.

I'll be thunder, you'll be lightning, and we'll collide on dry land...

Oh.

It was one thing to tease Severus Snape. It was quite another for him to tease her in return. Tell me all about your marvelous enthusiasm, indeed.

She smiled down at him, and with surprise in her voice, she said boldly, "You know, I've just discovered something about you, Severus. You're a bit of a flirt, aren't you?"

His voice was as sweet as honey; as silvery as the moon. "Who better to flirt with than your bride? I will admit, though; I thought I had graduated to seducing you." His smile almost made her toes curl, especially as it was accompanied with the sight of his fingertips stroking the knee of his trousers. Hermione could almost feel them softly trailing across her own skin. He tilted his head, and smirked as she bit her lip, a tiny smile lighting the corner of her mouth.

"Seducing me shouldn't be too difficult," she said, enjoying his light mood. Recklessly, she added, "Keep looking at me like that and I'm apt to climb on the coffee table and do a strip tease for you."

Severus' expression changed, and grew serious and playful at once. "Are you, now?" He gave her a crooked, boyish little smile. He licked his lips, quite aware of the effect it had on her. "I confess, I'd very much like to see that, Lass." He spoke the words slowly, each chocolate-laden syllable rolling from his wicked tongue, and Hermione swallowed.

For a moment, Severus looked as if he was about to laugh, then decided to put her out of her misery. "It's alright, my modest little lioness." He gave her a gentle smile, and shook his head. "You don't have to act the wanton for me. Especially tonight."

As the Slytherin in him had anticipated, she could not resist his good natured challenge. Hermione blinked, and quickly muttered a charm, causing the table to widen. As he watched, Hermione stepped onto the table, and began to slowly, provocatively undress for him, her eyes never straying from his.

She saw the light in them change as she drew her transfigured wedding dress over her head, and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Her shoes and tights quickly followed, and Severus' expression grew darker, more languid, as she turned her back to him, unhooked her bra, and slipped the straps from her shoulders. She slid it from her arms and looked at him over her shoulder, playfully tossing the garment into his lap. He let the bra dangle from his fingers, then put it to his nose and sniffed. He hummed appreciatively. "Lovely. Still warm."

Her eyes widened at his little show, and not to be outdone, she hooked her hands into the waistband of her knickers, and lowered them to the floor. She bent over from the waist, presenting him with the most perfectly shaped, pert little heart-shaped bottom he'd ever seen. "Fucking hell," he growled under his breath. Once again, she looked over her shoulder flirtatiously and grinned at him.

Severus' eyes raked over her nude body slowly, and his expression changed from darkened arousal to wonder. His lips parted, and he licked his lips predatorily as his eyes narrowed. As Hermione straightened, and turned around, Severus slowly stood and walked to her. He gently placed his hands on her waist, and lowered her from the table, his long, slender hands stroking her gently from shoulder to hip. He looked at her body with a long, appreciative stare.

He caressed her soft cheek with the back of his hand, and she closed her eyes and leaned against his fingers, her face flushed with excitement and desire. She pressed her lips to his hand, which looked so large and pale against her rosy, glowing skin.

"You're so lovely," he said, softly. His gaze almost scorched her. "I've never touched someone so innocent, so eager for me. I've never been with a woman who wanted me this much." His voice flowed over her like myrrh, and it was slightly breathless, unsteady. "Do you know how erotic that is to me? It's more powerful than any lust potion I could ever imbibe. Every caress, every place my mouth touches, every piece of your flesh is unchartered. I am the first."

Hermione looked up at him with eyes that were naked with longing. "And the last, Severus. Never forget that."

Stunned, her husband looked at her. He nodded. "Perhaps, my love, that is more important even than being the first."

She held his gaze, anticipation in her eyes, but he sensed his own intimidation. She was not exactly afraid, but troubled. Finally, she stammered, "W-would you undress as well?" He nodded, understanding. His black Muggle suit was reminiscent enough of his teaching robes to summon the persona of Professor Snape. She wanted Severus.

She watched as each piece of clothing was removed and draped onto the chair to join hers. He stood before her, suddenly as self conscious as she. Hermione took in his body in one, longing look. He was so pale and lean, with a wiry musculature that spoke of a latent hint of power. The planes of his hipbones were completely flawless; the skin there was as modest and smooth as a boy's. His cock, semi-hard, was large and uncircumcised and daunting, but she wasn't afraid.

Severus, on the other hand, was already steeling himself for her disappointment in him. He knew he wasn't the most beautiful wizard, but looking in her eyes, he was stunned with their longing and intensity; she looked anything but disappointed. She took her time, her eyes roving over his body, before resting on his face.

She gave him a smile of affection, and trust, but there was something in her eyes, some reticence, that troubled him. It was that strained, overly-bright, eager-to-please gleam of old; it reminded him that he had known her first as a child, then a woman, and that gave him pause.

With one large hand, he tipped her chin until she looked up into his face. "Hermione, I will not rush you. If you are unsure, we can wait. There is nothing in this world that will allow me to force you against your will – "

"Severus," she said reproachfully. "How could you say that?"

He swallowed, and turned to pick up his shirt. "I can say it because I will not make you – "

She caught his arm, and plucked his shirt from his hands and tossed it back on the pile of clothes. "How could you say that I would want to be anywhere, or doing anything, other than being here with you, than wanting you to make love to me?" She favoured him with a crooked smile. "How long have you known me?"

He looked down his long nose at her, hearing her teasing tone as she repeated his own words back. "Hermione." It was his turn to sound reproachful. "I see it in your eyes. You are not sure. Therefore, you are not ready."

She shook her head. "I am! I am!" She threw up her hands in an apologetic gesture. "In spite of my Gryffindor bravado, I'm still so afraid of disappointing you with my lack of experience. You've done this before, and you certainly know what you're doing."

Severus' dark chuckle startled her. "My sexy little swot; still wanting to be the best in class!"

Hermione was shocked into laughter. "No!" Her shoulders dropped. "Well, yes." He was laughing, shaking his head at her need, her constant drive to excel.

She returned the laugh, even if it was at her expense. With great dignity, she retorted, "I can't help it if I want to the best at something!" She dropped her eyes in confusion. "I want to make you feel as good as you've made me feel."

He stopped laughing, and looked at her with understanding. She gave a little shrug, and said quietly, "Can I help it that I want to be the best lover you've ever had?"

For a moment, he was still, and Hermione felt she would die if he were to deny her. Gods, she wanted – she wasn't even sure what it was she wanted, but she knew Severus would know, and he would provide. He always had.

His arms encircled her gently, and she looked up into his liquid, beautiful eyes, and gently he spoke with all the tenderness of a lover's touch, his beautiful, hypnotic voice washing over her like mercury, heavy and iridescent. "You are already the best lover I have ever had." He smiled. "In so many ways, you are the only lover I've ever had.

"You will know what pleases me; I will teach you. It will be the most pleasurable tutelage I have ever given, my love." He drew her closer, and nuzzled her hair, breathing in its scent. "You must remember: you are bestowing upon me a precious gift, Hermione. Not just the physical gift of your body, but the gift of acceptance, the gift of wanting me." He breathed quietly in her ear, "I belong to you now, and you to me. We will learn to please one another together."

Slowly he knelt before her, and she looked down into his face and kissed him, their eyes open, each feeling the other's mind, and the visceral pleasure of sharing this kiss in this intimate way was at once stunning and disorienting in its familiarity. Their minds recognised each other, and connected at every level of consciousness and sub consciousness, until they were fused together.

As Severus' mouth closed over hers, parting her lips and feeling her tongue move against his, they both whimpered softly, both experiencing the sensations, the emotions. It was the most intimate gesture Severus had ever shared with anyone, and he was thankful he was already on his knees, and didn't have to rely on his legs to support him.

Slowly, the kiss ended, and they broke their link. It was too physically draining to maintain it for what they desired to do to and for one another. Hermione smiled as Severus reached up and slid his arms around her shoulders, glorying in her lithe, lovely body presented to him so tantalizingly.

The scar from Dolohov's curse was still fresh and vulnerable-looking, but it only made her more real, more perfect. He looked at her with a mixture of compassion and tenderness, and he recalled the same look in her eyes when he first removed his shirt weeks before. She had kissed and caressed his scars then. Now he was returning the favour.

This was no Knockturn Alley whore, giving him her body for a price. This was no jaded reveler, drugged on the Dark Power, opening her legs for any cock that would feed her pleasure. This was a young, new woman, who had come to him, Severus Snape, because she simply wanted him. Because she loved and believed in him enough to marry him.

He gasped, taking it all in. "My beautiful wife," he whispered, and Hermione watched his cock grow hard and upright in a matter of seconds. He looked into her eyes. Almost unwillingly, he confessed, "Hermione, you worry because you have no experience. But I've never been with anyone... intact. Untouched." When she nodded, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against her breastbone, feeling her heart beating wild and fast underneath the top of her scar. "The last thing I wish to do is to make your first experience unpleasant. After all," he added, wryly, "I plan on repeating it often over the coming years."

"So do I," she answered, huskily, her fingers running through his black hair. "I believe in you. This is all I want. Everything you've ever done was so wonderful. I know you will make this first time special and beautiful." She kissed his forehead. "I have faith."

"I will be gentle. It will be difficult, Lass." His cheeks coloured slightly. "I haven't been with a woman in –"

"I don't want to know." Hermione shook her head, her eyes bright. "It doesn't matter. As far as I'm concerned, it is a first for both of us. I want no one else. I need no one else. I want you to be my lover, Severus. I've wanted this since the first day you touched me, and promised me you'd protect me. I'm not afraid."

Severus looked up into her lovely, cinnamon-coloured eyes, and saw the truth. He closed his eyes.

Once, a lifetime ago, in the throes of the Dark Caress, he'd fantasised about making her crawl to him, begging for his touch. He now found that it was he who was lost to her power; he was the supplicant. "I will make it pleasurable for you, I promise. There will be some pain, but - " He looked up at her like an adoring knight to his maiden. " - I will make you happy you chose me."

She favoured him with a glorious smile, then sobered, as arousal won over rational thought. In a voice glazed with longing, she whispered, "Oh, Severus. If you want me, please touch me. Explore me."

Long, wiry arms slid around her waist, and Severus pressed his body against hers in an embrace of boundless gratitude and barely controlled desire. Her words excited and aroused him beyond belief. They sounded erotic and dirty, and oh, so, decadent. Her hands stroked his head and his back and shoulders, and he purred appreciatively, reveling in the delicious feel of being fondled and petted. Each affectionate stroke of her hands renewed him, healed him, solidified his soul and enobled him. For a man starved so long of contact and affection, her healing hands smoothed away the pain of his past forever.

Almost beside himself with longing, Severus pressed his lips against the scarred skin between Hermione's lovely breasts. He turned his head, and smiled at the tiny, pert nipple, so hard and waiting, calling to him, all but begging for his greedy mouth. He nuzzled his large nose against her right breast.

His hands traced gentle circles against her back. Unable to help himself, already knowing the answer, he purred, "I am truly the first, Hermione? The first to see you like this? The first to touch you, to pleasure you?" He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. "The first to lick ... and suck ... and bite you?"

"You know you are." Her voice was husky and unsteady. He felt a tremble shudder through her.

He closed his eyes, moaning with desire at her breathless words, treasuring this moment, locking it away in his scarred heart. He knew that, once he'd tugged the little bud into his salivating mouth, this first would be gone forever. The knowledge that no one, save him, had ever suckled this precious nub of flesh was beyond arousing, beyond erotic. He could feel her thrumming with the anticipation of it, and he held himself until he could hold back no longer and was trembling as well.

He studied the tender little puckered tip for a brief moment. Severus touched the underside of her nipple with a single, delicate fingertip, and lifted it slightly, as if to weigh the little button. She gasped at his touch, and he smiled. "Ah, it is as I hoped, then."

Tense with desire, needy and impatient, she whimpered, "What? What did you hope for?"

He moved his finger, and caressed the side of her lovely, satiny breast in his large hand. "Your nipples are as pink and hard and baby sweet as I had dreamt they'd be," and then it was in his mouth and oh! it was sweet and hard and soft and her! His hands fluttered against her skin, cupping her breasts in his palms and he almost swooned as he drew the little bud into his mouth, his tongue cradling it and his lips pursing around it as his teeth nipped and suckled and he licked and laved and flicked it with the hard tip of his tongue and sucked and sucked and he could feel her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, hearing her pounding heart and her hoarse cries of "Oh! Severus! Don't stop – God, it feels so good!" and he was holding her so tightly and it was like the sweetness of an orgasm that never stopped...

His control broke, and he threw his arms around her as he feasted on the opposite nipple, tugging and sucking as if he could actually draw her milk from the ripe, innocent flesh. He was moaning helplessly; deep, throaty growls of unspeakable pleasure. She smelled new and perfect and he knew he didn't deserve it and for once he didn't give a fuck - it was so good, so good! He writhed against her body, unable to help himself, wanting her more than he had ever wanted anything else, more than he'd wanted to go to Hogwarts or his first good set of dress robes or his first wand or Lily...

He tried to stand without breaking his sucking grip on her rosy-tipped tit and overbalanced them both as he staggered forward against her, until he could right himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. Their mouths crashed together, almost painfully, and he was devouring her, and it was wondrous and new and he felt as if he were the hungry and edgy virgin instead of her. The most feral sounds were rippling through the air and he knew he was the source of them, and she answered him with a husky cry of her own. He was holding her too tightly, but he didn't care, as long as she combed her tiny hands through his hair and pulled him towards her sweet mouth. He sucked on her tongue as he drew it into his mouth, and she pulled on his hair, dragging him closer.

He must have carried her to his bed, because they were in it and he was over her, his weight on his arms, hungrily sucking kisses from her lips. She tried to pull him down on her, and when his arms dropped and his weight fell upon her, she took his head in her hands and opened her mind to him...

They were back at Grimmauld Place, on the floor of the library, and he was pulling her underneath him, whispering, "Lie down with me, Hermione... where no one can find us..."

He pulled away from her mind, not understanding, looking down at her in startled confusion. "How – when?"

"I dreamed this," she moaned, deliriously, her face lit from within and glowing. "After the first time you and I were alone at Grimmauld Place. I dreamed your weight on me. It felt so good ..." She pulled him closer until his entire length pressed her into the mattress. "But it was nothing compared to this. Your body, your beautiful eyes," she smiled. "Even the way you smell! Gods, I want you, Severus Snape." She laughed, a sharp sound of desperation. "I'm on fire for you!"

He shook his head in wonder. "Merlin's bollocks, witch! You make me feel like a god."

"You are!" she cried as he swooped over her, his soft lips planting wet kisses down her belly, traveling down to the apex of her thighs, and when she boldly opened to him, his straining cock felt as if it would explode if he didn't put it inside her soon.

He paused, forced himself to calm. This was his prized witch, his wife, his woman; his untouched, intact, virginal woman. Another first, he thought, looking down at her, so open and trusting, believing that, whatever he did, she would have nothing to fear. He stilled, and gently stroked the triangle of curls at her mons. Her scent was intoxicating, saturating his mind all the way down to the most primitive, primal part of his brain, where nature programmed not only the desire to mate, but to make it so pleasurable to the physical body that man would continually seek it, scent it in the air, hunt for his female in heat. He knew in that moment that he was her slave; that he would gladly grovel at her feet, if she would merely allow him to bury his nose in this soft thatch of glistening curls.

Her flushed, swollen labia glistened with her juices. No witch had ever been this wet for him and him alone. It had always thrilled him to touch her, to feel her beneath his fingers, but to see the evidence of her desire for him, this soft, rosy nest beckoning to him, was enough to break him; to make him forget who he was and why he had ever thought himself undeserving of her.

Panting with desire, he deftly peeled the cleft apart with his fingers, as if parting the delicate wings of a butterfly. There, nestled in its hood, was her flushed, stiff little clitoris, gleaming in its succulent bed of velvet. He tapped it gently with the tip of his finger, and she shuddered and whimpered and grasped the bed clothes. Her tiny, virgin entrance quivered, making him almost mad with lust.

"Sweet Nimue," he murmured, entranced, holding himself back until he would not be able to physically stop himself. "Wait," he crooned, almost to himself. "So wet. Your cunt is bright red, and so wet. Did I do this to you?"

"Yes," she whispered, shivering, desire making her brazen and unafraid. "I want to feel it. Please, Severus, touch me..."

He smiled, "You beg so beautifully, my treasure, offering yourself to me. So open, so eager. And I'm the first to see it, to taste it." He realised his mouth was actually watering. "I'm thirsty, sweetness. I'm ready to be slaked by you."

She groaned in frustration."Fuck! Severus, please," she cried. Boldly she grasped his hair, pulling him to her.

He actually laughed, hearing the desperation in her voice, loving her total lack of inhibition, and knowing she had no idea what desperation was. With a moan of anticipated pleasure, he lowered his mouth to her cunt and moved his lips and tongue over the turgid flesh. He felt the tremor pass through her, and, using his thumbs to open her further to his mouth, he sucked the pearly little clit between his lips and flicked at it with the sharp point of his tongue. She wailed his name, as if to invoke the heavens to open.

Hermione had read her mother's books, had studied their illustrations, had even found a video amongst her mother's private things that illustrated what he was doing, but she had not been prepared and would never in a million years understand how a wizard could completely rearrange her head without benefit of incantation or wand.

She had thought his wicked, talented fingers could bring her no greater pleasure. That had barely been a warm up. Now, she was reduced to a creature of sensation, of ecstasy that left her gasping for breath as his mouth moved against her. She raised her head and looked down at him. The sight of her husband, nestled comfortably between her thighs, was so erotic it was almost perverse. He moved over her flesh as if bestowing the most languid and sensual of kisses, his eyes closed, a nearly orgasmic look of arousal on his pale face. He sensed her watching him, and opened his flashing, onyx eyes, giving her a burning look that threatened to tip her over the edge into passion-induced madness.

He moved lower, and laved her dripping pussy from her perineum to her clitoris, lapping at her as if her juices were his favourite sustenance. Hermione felt her body gathering, like a storm brewing within. She felt the gentle pressure of his fingers sliding into her yielding passage, moving insistently within, as his tongue flicked relentlessly against her hard, swollen clit.

As her vulva flushed and quivered around his eager mouth, he probed her silken passage, stretching, pushing, even as he felt an orgasm cresting within her. She rose to its peak, holding on, trembling, almost unable to breathe, when Severus raised his head. He could feel her entire body shuddering, holding on. "Let's see it," Severus urged her, his fingers practiced and insistent, using his voice like an instrument of pleasure. "There's a good Lass... let's see you come... good girl... let me see you come...oh yessss..."

And the lovely young woman who had craved his praise, his admiration, who had fought for him and with him, who had loved him enough to take his name, finally let go, threw herself open to his plea, stepped from the edge of everything she had known up to that point about sex and wizards and herself and him, and allowed the wave to drown them both.

Her orgasm picked her up and snapped her in two, like a twig in the hands of a giant, and she cried out over and over, her hips and body thrusting toward his questing, talented mouth. Her magic, freed with this first mating, swirled around them, and Severus felt it push into him, from her eager, innocent body into his greedy mouth, filling him with a power he had never experienced. It was more potent than any drug or potion or spell he had ever cast, and for a moment, his head spun with the feeling.

Suddenly, his body arched, and he could feel his control tear away from him, unraveling down his spine into his balls, and he came with her, his unfettered cock jerking and spurting his issue onto the bedclothes. He barely registered it; he could not stop feasting on her. The combination of his own orgasm and her delicious, addictive essence almost caused him to swoon again.

He pushed her beyond her first orgasm, his mouth moving feverishly, frenziedly over her dripping folds, helpless in his own power, knowing he was her first, her prized, her last lover. The sweet, salty flavour of her juices ignited a current of desire and lust so powerful in his brain that soon he was painfully hard again. And still, he could not stop, as if she was his only nourishment, and to pull his ravenous mouth away from her sweet core would mean the loss of his life's quintessence.

Hermione came again with an orgasm that was breathtaking in its beauty, wonderful and frightening in its intensity. It did not seem possible to live through something this powerful. Her body arched and she shrieked her husband's name until it was impossible to speak, her voice changed to a mewling, wailing growl that had nothing to do with pleasure.

Severus was finally able to allow himself to cease his ministrations. He watched his young witch, shuddering and spasming, whimpering as her mind tried to cope with the intensity of the sensations he had produced. Severus was awestruck that he could cause something so incredible, and that he was, after all, the first to do so. He felt her quivering, pulsating around his fingers. Her clit thumped and spasmed against his thumb, and he rose from her thighs and took her in his arms.

Hermione tried to whisper his name, as her body's pain and pleasure receptors overloaded, claiming her consciousness and sanity...

She drifted back to herself slowly, feeling his arms around her, loosely holding her in his embrace. She looked up into the face of the man she knew almost as well as she knew herself, and he looked down at her with a smile that was full of wonder and awe.

"Back amongst the living, Mrs. Granger-Snape?" he rumbled, clearly pleased with himself, and was rewarded with a soft, passionate kiss. He deepened it, feeling his own desire overwhelm reason and consideration. He pressed her down against the pillow, plunging his tongue into her mouth, his lips fused with hers, drinking in her moans and mewls, and still she surged against his mouth, demanding more, as greedy and voracious as a little bird he must feed.

"Please," she whispered, between his suffocating, intoxicating kisses, "Please, Severus," she moaned, fighting to breathe, yet pulling him to her, reveling in his soft, demanding mouth, his long fingers threading through her hair. He caressed her cheek, slipping a finger wickedly into her mouth as he himself panted for lack of air.

"You beg, little girl," he moaned rapaciously, as she sucked his finger rapturously, her eyes closed; he'd reduced her to a creature only he could satisfy. The power of it made him burn for her. "You go right ahead and beg," he growled, and loomed over her. "I've waited long enough to bury myself into you, and I'm almost at the point of being unable to control myself. The more you beg, the more I'll make you scream. Let me, witch. Let me."

Hermione was already spreading her thighs, pulling him down to her. "Yes, please, Severus, please." She, too, was babbling, so caught up in the frenzy of his lovemaking. "Make me a woman for you, please!"

Her words drove a spike of lust into his brain that caused a feral growl to rasp from his throat. Gone was the dulcet, honeyed tones of the seducer; he was suffused with pure arousal and desire, and it rang true in his raw, needy voice. "I fucking love hearing you beg." His teeth sank against her throat, causing her to cry out. "I'm going to love making you scream even more, Hermione."

In a mixture of grace and awkwardness, he pulled himself back, onto his knees, and looked down at his cock, jutting proudly. With his last vestiges of rational thought, he put his arms around Hermione's waist and pulled her into a sitting position, drawing her thighs around his slender waist.

He put his arms around her and felt her shaking, and he pulled back to read her face. It was beautiful. Flushed, glowing, pupils dilated, her lips almost purple from his punishing, commanding kisses, smiling at him with sensual innocence. His heart almost burst within his chest for love of her, and the dark, salacious lust in his intoxicated mind calmed a little.

He closed his eyes, and whispered, "Lass, I want to be gentle. I want to make love to you, but I'm almost too far gone to be tender with you."

Hermione covered his face with tiny kisses, whispering, "I don't care. I know you won't hurt me any more than you have to." She grasped his shoulders almost painfully. "Please, Severus, it hurts worse to want you this badly!"

He looked up in her face, and could sense the longing behind her eyes. Pulling her into his lap until her hot little netherlips parted then pursed around the base of his cock, Severus moaned, "Rock against me." He placed his large hands around her waist, and instructed her how to move against him. "Like this," he crooned, gasping with the unbelievable feeling of her against him. "Yes... just like this... oh, yes... good girl..."

Hermione's head fell back, and she rocked her hips against him, moaning helplessly, and he slipped his cock against her tiny opening. It was wet and maddeningly hot, and he could feel his balls tighten.

"Rock against me. There we go... that's it..." He gasped as his cock pushed against her tender, innocent pussy, and he moaned helplessly as she opened for him.

"Rock," he whispered, brokenly, settling in more and more, feeling her stretching, hearing her panting, relaxing, allowing him entrance. "Rock against me, Hermione," he moaned, feeling her accept him. Then he thrust.

He felt her membrane give. She cried out sharply, and he answered her raggedly, sheathed in the unbelievable silky, wet tightness of her. Strangely enough, the tears that fell were from his own eyes. He and Hermione shuddered as one, their arms clamped tightly around one another.

Her cunt pulsed and quivered around his shaft, and he whimpered, trying to hold onto his control. It was excruciating, begging his traitorous body not to obey instinct and thrust hard, or climax.

Finally, when he could breathe, he opened his eyes. Hermione's eyes were still closed; a faint line between her brows, and even as his vision cleared, he could see it relaxing, and she opened her eyes to gaze into his. She smiled, and tenderly kissed the tears that had trailed from his eyes.

"Does it hurt so very much?" he asked, stupidly. She laughed, causing her sweet body to clench around his shaft. "Ah, you sweet little tormentor!"

She kissed him hungrily and surged against him, making them both moan. "Please, Severus! Please move. You said... you said if I begged, you'd make me scream!"

He withdrew slowly, and thrust again. He closed his eyes, as pleasure lanced through his body."Oh fuck," he moaned, shuddering with the effort to hold on.

Hermione was shifting, lying back on the bed again, forcing him to move with her. She was pulling him to her, crying out, "More! God, Severus, I want more!"

Severus all but impaled her on his next thrust. He withdrew, and began to move inside her. Hard. Finally. Her body accepted his rhythm, and they moved together.

Severus was well-endowed, and Hermione felt as if she were being filled into her womb. It was glorious. She felt his pubic bone grind into hers as his hips churned his body to hers, and he reached between them and fondled her clit as he pounded into her.

She looked up into his face, pale and flushed and intense, his eyes wide and unfocused, blank with passion and pleasure, his mouth in an astonished O of bliss. Knowing that she had put this expression on his face filled Hermione with power, and she cried out his name. She put her feet flat on the bed to leverage her hips to meet his, her body instinctively knowing what to do. For a moment it felt as if her magic was pouring out of her, and being replaced with Severus'.

He, too, felt her magic begin to swirl, and the faster, the harder his thrusts, the more powerful and pleasurable was the feeling of her magic washing over him. It was not soft, gentle, female magic; he'd felt that before. Even a whore who climaxes can experience spontaneous magic. This was hard, powerful shards of magic, that penetrated him like drops of acid on his skin, burning him, burrowing under his flesh. It was the most exquisite pleasure he had ever experienced. It felt rich and potent; perhaps even more powerful magic than his own. And it was innocent magic, and it carved into him like a knife flaying him open to her, peeling the darkness away from him, exposing him to the light. It felt like oxygen and estrogen and smelled erotically clean.

He looked down at the young witch straining against him. She was looking into his eyes, pleading for more, Severus, more! and he shook and slammed into her harder.

"My wife," he moaned, gasping, thinking that his heart would burst, that her magic would rush into him and he would explode from the inside out. He wanted it more than anything, anything...

And suddenly he was within her mind, sharing their link, seeing through her eyes. Looking up at his own face, he was stunned by the passion he saw in his own visage. Is this how she sees me? he thought, and he smiled down at himself, and Severus realised that he and Hermione were now within each other, body and soul. He felt his own body thrusting, nearing its arching, aching completion, and yet he could feel her body receiving his piston-like, driving cock ramming into her, and he knew she could feel it, too. His mind overloaded with sensation, and snapped back into his body just as he felt hers gather and shudder around his cock, pulsating around him.

Hermione came, screaming his name, thanking him, worshiping him, and at her climax her magic swooped down on both of them and Severus shouted her name as he burst apart. Pain and pleasure and forgiveness and hope blasted him into an ecstasy that was both beautiful and terrifying, and he knew he was going to die. He was going to die in the arms of this succubus, who had stolen his magic and then given it back, more powerful than before. He collapsed against her tender body, trying not to crush her, but unable to think or move...

When Hermione came back to herself, she opened her eyes to find the room was wrecked. Curtains were torn from the windows; furniture was overturned and clothes hung from sagging drawers. A heavy, shivering weight pinned her to the mattress, and she threw her arms around her husband's neck, frightened and panting still.

The man who only now slid from her still-clenching core slowly raised himself up on his arms and stared at her blankly. He was pale, and drenched in sweat, and looked at her for a moment as if he didn't recognise her.

They took a deep breath together, and he too, took in the state of the room with a bewildered glance. Gradually, they relaxed, and Severus gained enough of his senses to take his crushing weight from his wife's tender body, and carefully lifted himself from her.

"Don't go anywhere!" Hermione begged, trying to hold him in place. She looked around again. "Severus, what happened? What happened to us?"

He took her in his arms, soothed and gentled her. "Shhh, Lass. It's alright. It was the magic. I'm here. I'm going nowhere." He pressed his lips to her smooth, sweaty forehead. "What a good girl. My beautiful, precious little one."

Shivering, Hermione clung to him, and he stroked her skin, crooning to her. "My bride," he whispered, and as he felt her finally relax, and her breathing even out and slow, he smiled in tribute to her love and power. "My goddess."

You know, a famous fanfic writer used to say, 'Reviews are love', so any love you'd like to give will be returned full fold, I promise ;)

Summary - "Seven Bridges Road" by The Eagles

Chapter title and operning lines are from "I'll Be Thunder" by Tina Turner