Eighteen

A/N: I won't keep you. Enjoy the show. ;)

Disclaimer- They are not mine; I only take them out to play.

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He was up against her in three strides of his long legs, lifting her until her feet were completely off the ground. As she twined her arms around his neck, he used his strong hands to encourage her legs to wrap tightly around his waist. Her back hit the door as his mouth crashed into hers. A whispered word against her lips and her bra vanished only to appear in the middle of the room, hanging in midair for a moment before it drifted like an autumn leaf down onto the sofa.

Then he lifted her further so he could feast on her nipples, already crinkled and stiff with rampant arousal. His hands clenched and flexed on the muscles of her thighs as he supported her. His hungry mouth left her breasts to weave a hot trail of breath and tongue, up her neck and to the lobe of her ear. She was at the perfect height now for him to press his hard length against the heat of her desire.

"Need you." His voice was low and ragged with the strength of his desire. "Need to be inside you. Need you pulsing around me."

"Always want you. Always need you." She barely recognized her own voice as she rasped out the words.

Growling, he took one of his hands from her thighs, she felt a spark of his power, and the buttons on his robes came undone all at once. The flare of his magic made her react with even greater hunger.

"Leave them on," she commanded. "Leave them on and get inside me. Now...need you now."

She could feel his hand work its way between their rocking bodies and his fingers moving against her sex as he fumbled with the fly of his jeans. Then she could feel his freed cock against the lace of her tiny knickers. He was doing something else with his hand now, and she grew impatient.

"What are you doing?" she hissed as she ground herself against him. "Get that big, beautiful cock inside me."

"Stop your wriggling, you demanding harpy," he growled in reply. "I got that thrice-damned potion for your tender bits, and I'm going to bloody well administer it."

The clink of a vial hitting the floor, a small rip as he tore her thong from her body. Then he was pushing his cock inside of her and the ache she had felt from their previous coupling faded into nothingness.

"Yes, you clever man," she purred. "You certainly know the best way to give a girl a potion."

"I'm glad you like that, because I'm about to give you another. And this one is a potion of my own making."

She laughed with joy at his naughty joke, and then put her mouth to better use, kissing him hungrily and thrusting her tongue into his mouth to the rhythm of his hips. Even standing up, he gave his hips a little twist to grind himself against her clit in the perfect way she liked.

He loved for her to talk dirty to him, and she had been too silent, the pleasure of being joined again to her lover was so all-encompassing.

"Oh, Severus, I love how you fuck me. And this is so naughty, so wonderful and naughty. Being naked while you are still dressed. I love my nipples rubbing against the fabric of your shirt, love that you desire my heat so badly that you can't stop to strip off your clothes. Love how you fuck me, Severus."

"Merlin, woman. Seeing you standing there, white skin and black lace, like the sexiest wet dream a wizard can imagine. Who can spare time to undress with such heaven waiting for him? I can feel your high-heels digging into my back even now."

When she tried to loosen her grip, afraid of hurting him, he growled again.

"No, don't. I like it. Oh, fuck yes, Hermione, I like it."

She clamped her legs back around him and he groaned into her neck, the pace of his hips increasing so that he rattled the wooden door in its frame. She felt the pleasure, spiraling up in waves as he moved within her.

"Fuck me, love. Yes, fuck me."

Then she was flying, her orgasm blossoming from one thrust to the next, her channel spasming around him. He took two steps away from the door, falling to his knees, leaning back to sit on his heels, his cock never losing its snug haven. With his hands on her hips, he lifted her and slammed her back down on his shaft. Three times, a fourth, and then his head tipped back as he shouted his release to the ceiling.

He held her there for several minutes, face buried in her neck, his slowly softening cock still inside her. When, at last, it slipped free, he guided them down to lay on the floor, he on his back with Hermione sprawled on top of him. Her arms were crossed on his chest, her chin propped on them, as she gazed at him adoringly. He had one arm behind his head and one hand stroking her hair.

"Merlin how I love you...witch...sorceress...siren."

He could hide love no better than his other emotions, and it shined from his face, making her sigh in delight. His deep voice was the most gentle she had ever heard it. He was Severus still, but tempered somehow. Perhaps through his experiences as Steven, perhaps by the influence of their love and passion, or maybe it was both. She wasn't worried one whit about their future together, where such love was, they would find a way to cling to each other. Nor was she worried about pitfalls of his temperament. He neither frightened her when he lost his temper nor insulted her when he called her a harpy. Instead, she found comfort in the fact that she was witch enough to handle him at his worst and sorceress enough to handle him at his best. He was kind to her, and that was enough. He had manners with her, and that was enough. Even should he revert to his unmannered heathen ways, she really didn't seem to give a damn. He belonged to her now, he'd freely given her his heart and she would face any foe to keep it safe.

"You're mine, you know," she said. "You are mine and I'm never letting you go."

"Believe me, pet," he brushed his fingers over her cheek as he gazed at her, "I am your willing possession. Happy in my servitude. Enchanted slave to your pleasure. And you are mine. My love, my passion, my witch."

Uncrossing her arms, she scooted up to put her face in his neck, slipping her hands into his hair.

"Do you think, Severus, that you could magic away these clothes of yours now?"

His hand slipped into the pocket of his robes, the magic shivered along her bare skin, and then she was resting on his nude form, feeling the heat of his body sinking into her skin and the soft crinkle of his chest hair on her breasts. She sighed against him, utterly content now that he was naked beneath her.

When the floor became too hard, Severus moved them to the sofa and they took up the same position with him on his back and Hermione lying on top.

"I never thought I would have this, Hermione. Oh, the Slytherins spoke of it, teased about it. About power and sex drive and passion. And I was powerful, even when I was in school. I knew nothing about how to behave. Lily Evans befriended me when we were children, but eventually, my acid tongue drove even her away. Lucious had taken me under his wing, you see. He was older than me, blond, handsome, pureblood, well-spoken, and charming. He seemed everything that I was not. I learned from him and thought that perhaps then I could find a witch for my own. I was powerful but feared. I had to fight so hard against Potter and his band that the female students were frightened of me. Even if one could have looked past my awkward looks and hand-me-down robes, none would approach me."

Hermione snuggled closer and lifted her head to kiss him softly on the lips.

"Then Malfoy led me to the Death Eaters," he continued. "I would have followed him anywhere at that point. I thought if I could not be loved, then I would have power instead. I was a young fool. The activities of the Death Eaters disgusted me, even before Potter and Lily were killed. I spent many nights curled over my toilet, vomiting from what I had seen, what I had done."

At her soft sound of distress, he brushed his fingers through her hair. "Hush, love. This is ancient history. It seems as if it happened a lifetime ago. I explain only so you can understand how very precious you are to me. So unlike the women of the Death Eaters, who disgusted me. If they were my choice, then I would rather have no witch at all. Instead, I would cling to the image of a childhood friend who never even belonged to me. Then, Voldemort fell to the magic of a baby. My life became easier for a time, but I refused to consider love an option. My mark had faded from sight, but it still burned beneath my skin. My insane master would return and I refused to drag any witch into his clutches. I had all of the desire, but no outlet save my own hand during a multitude of dreadfully lonely nights. Then the monster was back, and you know what happened from that point further."

Hermione's hands moved across his skin. Over his shoulders, down his arms, until her fingers found his and twined into them.

"I am very glad that I lost my memory after the battle, that I had a slice of normalcy to temper my broken spirit. I think this is the only way you could have approached me where I wouldn't have pushed you away. I'd long given up on dreams of love and a passionate witch in my arms. Then we were standing on the tower and you called me an idiot. I screamed at you, falling too easily into old habits for fear of you turning from me."

"I will never turn from you," she said fiercely.

"So I saw. I gave you my worst, and you walked up as if it was nothing and took my hands in yours. Still, I struggled against you and you refused to give ground. Now I know what it is the Slytherins whispered about. Now, at last, I have a lover who will not be denied. As we lay in our bed, you told me what I meant to you. This is what you mean to me. You are precious to me, Hermione Granger. I would kill for you. I would die for you."

As he spoke of his love, his cock grew hard against her stomach. She raised up and took him inside her hungry body and she showed him her passion for him, her need of him, her mighty and fearless love for him.

In perfect contentment, as their passion cooled, they fell asleep, naked on her sofa.