To Share

Author Note: 7-20-07 - After receiving many reviews saying that this chapter did not set up the intimacy between our couple properly, I have added some small parts that (hopefully) make clear their growing attraction to one another. I felt that this was especially important in Hermione's case. I hope you enjoy the revised version.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potterverse; it belongs to JKR. I'm not making any money from this.

Warning: This chapter contains explicit (although not vulgar, I hope) intimacy. If that's not your thing, run away when the kissing begins.

Chapter 14: To Share

She was depressed again. Little wonder, seeing as it was Christmas Eve and she was virtually alone. Companions who are sulking can hardly be counted as company.

She'd had a few brief minutes of happiness that afternoon when a letter had arrived – actually for her! A large, Great Grey owl had come to the window, bypassed the elf that admitted it and dropped the missive into her lap. It was from Viktor, a nice cheerful letter that told mostly of his family in Bulgaria and other inconsequential, entertaining tidbits. She had read the letter through three times, experiencing a warm feeling of friendship for its writer. It reassured her that she was not forgotten or unreachable by all her friends.

However, when Snape spotted it later that afternoon, his reaction was anything but pleased. As he scanned the letter, the expression on his face became thunderous. By the time he had finished, he was white with rage. Spinning on his heel, he Summoned his cloak and made for the door. "Krum has gone too far this time. We shall see what the Dark Lord thinks of this!" he hissed, brandishing the parchment.

Snape was furious when he returned. How dare that surly Bulgarian interfere with Hermione – and just when I have begun to make progress! he raged internally. The Dark Lord had been amused by his reaction. Amused! He ground his teeth in frustration. He was almost certain that the girl had a preference for his company. Almost. I will not allow anyone, world-famous Quidditch player or not, to hinder me! I will succeed on every level this time! he vowed.

Hermione hadn't seen her guardian in such a foul mood for weeks. From what she could gather from his biting comments, the letter had been sent with the Dark Lord's knowledge and approval. Viktor had asked permission to contact her, reasoning that she would probably be feeling isolated during the holiday. He was certainly right there, she thought wryly. She just didn't see why Snape was so incensed by a letter. What harm could it do? She retreated to the bedroom – solitude being preferable to Snape's inexplicable temper.

If she had been skilled in Legilimency, she might have been able to discern that his anger was rooted in jealousy. If she had recognized it for what it was, she probably would not have been so unhappy. But she did not know Legilimency. And Snape's inscrutable face gave no clue to his underlying motivations. She slept early and woke feeling groggy and unwilling to face the day.

Snape's anger seemed to have burned itself out by morning. As usual, he woke Hermione early, rousing her with a light shake of her shoulder and a list of tasks he intended for them to complete. She listened in silence, feeling more depressed with each item on his list. What is it with him? Doesn't he know what day it is? she thought incredulously. I am not doing this today, she decided, rolling onto her stomach and pulling the blanket over her head.

Snape knew quite well what day it was. He simply didn't see any point in pretending to 'holiday cheer,' especially in this situation. He disliked Christmas. He had no family, either Muggle or magical, to visit and no one to exchange gifts with, even if he had been inclined to do so. On top of that, Hermione was isolated from her friends and family; it would be a travesty to attempt to celebrate the holiday. Much better to treat it like any other day, he reasoned. Hermione, however, did not appear to agree. In fact, she refused point-blank to get up, claiming she was unwell. He regarded her silent, blanket-covered form for a minute before deciding to leave her to her own devices for the time being. He, at least, would accomplish something today!

*****

By lunchtime, he was becoming slightly concerned. Hermione had not shown up in the lab as he expected. He had surmised that she would probably sulk for an hour or two, then pull herself out of her depression and eventually join him. He stomped up the stairs, determined to put en end to her ridiculous behavior. Striding into the bedroom, he saw she was still lying on her cot, but no longer pretending to be sick. She was (predictably) reading, her back turned away from the door and, not incidentally, her irate guardian. Walking to the cot, he grasped the blanket draped over her shoulder, yanking it completely off. She jumped in reaction, as only a truly startled person can, sitting bolt upright with a small gasp. He smirked in satisfaction. "Enough!" he commanded. "You will get up and cease your childish sulking, Hermione!"

Her eyes widened for a moment. "How dare you?" she whispered, gaining her feet as tears of pure rage darkened her eyes. "I have been torn away from my entire life!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with every word. "I have been held captive for months, with no end in sight, and when I feel unhappy because I miss everyone dear to me, you call it childish? Just because you are an unfeeling wretch who has never loved anyone, doesn't give you the right to label my feelings as immature!" She clenched her teeth and said vehemently, "I may have agreed to learn from you, Severus Snape, but I have no intention of emulating your cold manner! Just leave me alone today!" She spun around, tears of rage and frustration finally breaking through her diatribe.

Her words sliced into him, a knife so sharp he didn't feel it until he realized he was bleeding inside. He stared at Hermione in disbelief. It was like finding out your tiny kitten had the claws of a tiger. And he had no argument in return: she was right. All his life, there had only been one person he could say he really loved, only one person who had loved him. "My mother..." he choked out, his normally smooth voice nearly unrecognizable.

Hermione turned slowly, shock registering on her features as she saw his face. He was shaken to the core; she could see it. She had never suspected that words would have the power to hurt him; he always gave an impression of invulnerability. "I'm sorry," she whispered, taking a tentative step toward him. "I shouldn't have said that – it was cruel..."

Snape shook his head. "No. You were correct." He walked to the fireplace, staring at the small blaze. He remembered the Christmas just before he had turned eighteen. Hermione's age, he realized. That Christmas he had spent alone (his mother had been obliged to work, even on holidays, just to support them). Had it really been so long that he had forgotten that desolate feeling? He had felt as if it were himself against the world back then. Sometimes he still did. She should not have to endure that, he thought. He made a sudden resolve: there was a place – a place where he had once found consolation – he would take her there...

"Hermione," he said softly, turning to catch her eye, "there's something I want to show you. Will you come with me?" She nodded. "You'll need your cloak," he informed her as he Summoned his own. "And boots would be advisable, as well."

She transfigured her trainers into tall, warm boots, wrapped her cloak around her and held out her arm for the Tether Spell. Snape looked at her consideringly for a moment then simply took her arm and led her downstairs and out the front door of the cottage. Grasping her forearm tightly, he Apparated them.

If Hermione was surprised that he had forgone the spell to secure her, it was nothing to the astonishment she experienced as she took in her surroundings. They were on a hillside, standing ankle-deep in pristine, white snow and facing a veritable wall of green conifers. Snape led her forward, the green resolving into a large stand of Scots Pines, a few leafless deciduous trees scattered here and there among them. "It's beautiful!" she proclaimed enthusiastically. "Where exactly are we?"

"Several miles from the town where I grew up," Snape answered. "The river is a few miles in that direction," he added, pointing over his left shoulder.

"Can we take a walk in there?" she asked eagerly.

"That's what I brought you here for," he replied sardonically.

As they wandered beneath the canopy, detouring around the numerous, conically-shaped, immature pines, Hermione felt her turbulent emotions subside. There was something about the impassivity of the trees that leached away her negative feelings and smoothed out her thoughts.

"Yes, the trees have a calming influence on me as well," Snape agreed.

Hermione realized with a start that she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Glancing sideways at her companion, she smiled for the first time that day.

Snape took a long, slow breath of the fragrant, pine-scented air. It had been many years since he had walked in these woods, but they still had the power to provoke introspection. He gave himself over to the relaxing impulse, conversing sporadically with the young woman at his side and enjoying the deep quiet of winter in the woods.

Nearly two hours later, Hermione admitted she was tired. And hungry.

"I'm not surprised," Snape quipped, giving her a sidelong look, "considering that you refused to get up for breakfast!"

Her only response was a shrug and a rueful smile.

"Come," he said, taking her hands, "we will return and have a late lunch. Tomorrow, you can help me with some potions I need to brew."

As he grasped her arm to Apparate, she placed her hand over his. She nodded toward the trees. "Thank you for bringing me here," she said quietly. Rising on tiptoes, she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

Wordlessly, he tightened his grip on her arm and Apparated them back to the cottage.

-----------------------------

Molly was in high spirits. Christmas! And all my children are safe and accounted for! She was in her element: at the center of her large, chattering family, surrounded by love, warmth and plentiful, delicious food. Everyone except Percy was present. But even that couldn't dent her sanguine mood, for her absent son had sent a letter containing holiday greetings, along with a gift for his parents.

She noticed that the twins exchanged dark glares each time she showed Percy's letter to a new arrival. Those two! she thought reproachfully. Will they ever grow out of their sibling rivalry with Percy?

Remus and Tonks finally arrived and were promptly provided with plates of food and cups of eggnog. "So, Tonks, what did your mother say when you demonstrated your proficiency with those housekeeping charms we worked on?" Molly inquired.

Tonks, her mouth full of food, gave Molly a thumbs-up in response.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" Molly responded, genuinely happy about the young Auror's success. Tonks has a great deal of magical talent, she mused to herself. She just seemed to have developed a bit of a mental block about cooking and cleaning. In truth, Molly had been very pleased to teach Tonks. After she had taken on the responsibility of tutoring the teens in advanced Charms last autumn, she had come to the conclusion that she enjoyed teaching. Arthur had been very supportive, even going so far as to suggest that she consider teaching as a career after the war. It was a scary thought to contemplate, stepping outside of the confines of the family and home that she had built around herself. But it was an exciting thought as well. And her success with Tonks had solidified her interest in teaching. Even if I'm not good enough for a big school like Hogwarts, she reasoned, I could still offer private tuition. There are always a certain number of home-schooled children in need of tutors.

Emerging from her thoughts, Molly saw Harry and Ronald, all but accosting Remus. "Ronald! Harry!" she called. "Leave the poor man alone until he's finished eating!" she scolded.

"It's all right, Molly," Remus retorted laughingly. "We're just making arrangements for a special Defense lesson a few days from now." He gave the two boys a meaningful look and mouthed 'later' out of the corner of his mouth.

What was that all about? Molly wondered. Surveying the sitting room, it appeared that everyone had eaten their fill of the buffet-style meal she, Ginny and Fleur had prepared. Time to bring in the desserts, she decided, bustling off to the kitchen.

"Harry!" Molly shouted shrilly from the other room, "That owl is back!"

Harry blanched. Not today! he thought. He shot a distressed glance at Ron, who was wide-eyed and pale himself. Please, no more memories! he prayed silently. Slowly, he made his way into the kitchen, a procession of Weasleys trailing behind him.

His prayer was answered. A large, Great Grey owl stood on the sideboard, its beak submerged in a bowl of water Molly had obviously provided. Harry stopped short. "That's Krum's owl!" he blurted. "I thought you meant that Eagle owl was back, Mrs. Weasley," he said, laughing shakily. He heard several people let out their breath behind him. Apparently, he was not the only one dreading the other owl's eventual return.

"Here's the letter he brought; he seemed to want me to remove it right away," Molly explained, holding out a folded piece of parchment to Harry.

Harry scanned the note, his eyebrows drawing together in a scowl.

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked. "Is it about Hermione?"

"I don't think so," Harry answered. "I can't make out what it means, though. Here." He extended the letter to Ron. "You try and make sense of it."

As Ron began reading aloud, Molly came up behind him, peering at the note over his shoulder.

"23 December, 1997

Warn the watchers

It's signed: Y.O.T.O.," Ron said in a puzzled voice. "Poetry? He's sent us bad poetry?" Ron sputtered.

Fred snatched the letter from his hand, holding it up so George and his father could re-read it with him.

"It's a warning!" Molly stated flatly. "That much is clear."

"The last day..." Arthur muttered. "Of what? The year?"

"Yes, I'd say that's correct," Remus agreed, now perusing the letter over Bill's shoulder.

"Fire in the sky, blood on the earth," Bill quoted, frowning. "That sounds like an attack!"

"Yes," his father agreed, "but where?"

"This line, 'Terror will be unshackled,' is the key," Remus said thoughtfully. He passed the note to Tonks; Charley and Ginny immediately began reading over her shoulders.

"What are people terrified of?" George asked.

"What are they NOT terrified of, these days?" Molly returned sharply. George looked chagrined.

"Unshackled," Harry repeated. "Who or what is shackled right now?" he queried. Looking around the room, his eyes lit on Ginny, who had been uncharacteristically silent. She appeared frightened, her soft brown eyes wide and glassy, fixed on the letter in Tonks' hand. "What's wrong, Ginny?" he asked gently, drawing everyone's eyes to the youngest Weasley.

"Prisoners, Harry," she breathed. "Prisoners are shackled – in Azkaban. The poem means the Death Eaters will be unshackled, I think."

Molly gasped audibly.

"Dear Merlin!" Arthur uttered fervently. "We have to warn the Minister!"

"Yes," Molly said, sounding slightly relieved. "The Aurors will be able to stop the attack."

"If Scrimgeour believes us," Bill said grimly.

Silence descended in the room. They all remembered the year when Minister Fudge was in denial. Harry hoped Scrimgeour, as a former Auror, would be more awake to the danger than his predecessor.

-----------------------------

Inexplicably, Snape's list seemed to have gotten longer. There were now no less than a dozen Potions to be completed. "This looks like more than one day's work," Hermione commented dryly.

Snape smirked. "Indeed. I imagine we will be busy for several days. It's likely that I will be ordered to prepare several more medicinal Potions this week, as well. The Dark Lord wishes to be fully prepared."

"Prepared?"

Gathering ingredients from the shelf behind her, he huffed impatiently. "What has Draco been planning for the past four months?" he asked in return.

"The release of... Oh!" she exclaimed, comprehension dawning all at once. After a minute, she ventured a timid, "When?"

"New Year's Eve."

"Is that why he hasn't been here the last few days?" she questioned.

Snape shook his head. "Actually, I believe he went to another hidden Malfoy property to celebrate the holiday with his mother. At Narcissa's suggestion, if I'm not mistaken," he said with evident satisfaction. "I don't believe he will be coming back to stay at this cottage." When she raised her eyebrows in surprise, he explained. "If Draco's plan to free those currently held in Azkaban is successful, he will, no doubt, move to his present location with his father."

"And if he's not successful, won't he come back here?"

"If he is unsuccessful, he will be dead," Snape answered flatly.

Oh. Voldemort's justice, she thought with an imperceptible shudder. Now that she knew specifically who and what they were making potions for, she was reluctant to start. She stood, gazing uncertainly at the pile of ingredients for a few moments.

Snape's acidic tone snapped her out of her thoughts. "If you're ready to start sometime today, Hermione? Begin with the top of the list," he directed. "I will begin at the bottom."

She consulted the parchment. The first two were Burn-Healing Paste and Exploding Potion. She froze. "I... I can't... make this," she stated, pointing to the second item on the list.

"Don't be ridiculous!" he retorted sharply. "You are perfectly capable of preparing that. The necessary techniques are well within your abilities."

"It's not my expertise I'm concerned about, sir," she declared coldly. Her tone brought his head up to meet her eyes.

They were filled with determination and, if he were reading her correctly, defiance. He sighed. In truth, he was unsurprised by her reaction, if a bit disappointed. He had hoped to draw her into the work using the pretext that he needed her help. Several times in the past month, she had been very willing to help – if she believed it was for his benefit. "You are unwilling to make it? Why?" he asked, although he was certain he knew the answer already.

"I can't... knowingly aid... the Dark Lord," she stammered softly. "And... what about my friends in the Order? If one of them got hurt from this, it would be my doing. I couldn't live with that...." She trailed off, eyes on the floor in unhappiness.

He stepped closer, placing his hand under her chin to tilt it upward. "It would not be your fault, Hermione," he said gently. "That guilt would belong to the person who used the potion. Those who brew potions are not responsible for their ultimate uses."

"Do you really believe that?" she asked, a note of incredulity in her voice.

"I do," he answered steadily. "Besides, this operation will be a surprise attack. It will be over with before the Order or even the Ministry can send reinforcements to Azkaban. No one you know will be hurt," he assured her.

"No," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I can't compartmentalize the truth like that. Perhaps I shouldn't be helping you with these at all."

Damn, Snape cursed inwardly. Her stubborn, Gryffindor 'nobility' would land him in trouble yet. He needed her help if he wanted to complete the work on time – that is, if he planned on sleeping between now and the raid! Perhaps a compromise will work. He tried again. "Hermione, I need your help to complete these. If I do not, the Dark Lord will be extremely displeased with me." He noted that she was biting her lip - a sure sign of uncertainty. "Would you be willing to make some of the medicinal potions? You can be sure they will not cause harm to anyone."

She met his eyes. "All right," she agreed finally.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward a bit. "Good," he replied. Now for the reward. "Perhaps," he added, "when we have finished the simpler concoctions, I will have time to teach you how to make the Blood Replenishing Potion."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I'd love to learn that!" she gushed.

"Then we will prepare it together, after the other work is done," he confirmed. As Snape took in her smile and the glowing look she directed at him, he reflected that compromise was certainly worth the effort.

*****

Draco had shown up two days after Christmas to retrieve his belongings. He and Snape had parted stiffly, but with a modicum of politeness at least. To Hermione's eyes, Snape seemed smugly pleased with the new arrangement, affecting a more relaxed attitude in her presence. And she had to admit, she also felt more comfortable knowing that the Malfoys would not be coming around.

It took them four days to finish brewing Snape's list of potions. Although, to be honest, Hermione thought, we could have finished in three. True to his word, Snape had left the Blood Replenishing Potion for last, so that Hermione could prepare it with his guidance. Originally, they were to do it on the third day. But that morning, Snape had abruptly decided to move his lab to the (now empty) upstairs bedroom. It was next to theirs, and after he had added a connecting door between the two rooms, it was extremely convenient. It was also much brighter and airier.

"This is certainly better than that dank, stuffy basement," Hermione commented with satisfaction, as she stored the last of the Potion ingredients in their new cabinet.

"Indeed it is. That was the reason for the move, after all," Snape replied with a wry twist of the lips.

Hermione was not at all dismayed by his reproof; it was quite mild by his usual standards. Instead she turned to face him and met his eyes with a slightly pleading look. "Do we have to wait until tomorrow? Can't we start brewing the Blood Replenishing potion now?"

Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise, thinking that Hermione looked quite appealing at that moment. He moved even closer to her and saw her eyes dilate slightly. She was reacting to his proximity. A good sign, he decided, as he suppressed a satisfied smirk. "I am afraid not," he said softly. "The potion needs six continuous hours of attention. It would be foolish to start now, so late in the day." Daringly, he lifted a hand to her face, briefly touching her cheek in reassurance. "We will begin first thing tomorrow."

"Alright," she said in a breathy voice, staring up at him with an odd expression.

Snape was almost certain that her discomfiture was due to arousal rather than fear. But he really wished he could use Legilimency to find out what she was thinking. Everything would be so much simpler that way.

*****

The next day, they made the complex Blood Replenisher in the new lab. When the successfully brewed potion was bottled and stored away, they spent the remainder of the day reading and relaxing together. After dinner, Hermione decided a long, hot bath was just what she needed.

When Hermione came out of the bathroom dressed only in her pajamas, Snape was just entering their room. She had long since lost most of her modesty around him and merely continued nonchalantly toward her cot. He didn't stare, but she was aware that he was watching her; perhaps he even appreciated the sight. She looked down at the small, uncomfortable cot that had been her bed for many months and sighed. "I don't think I'll ever feel truly comfortable on this thing," she said.

"Your options remain the same as they have always been: either you take the cot or you can share the bed with me," Snape said sarcastically with that particular twist of the lips that, on him, passed for a smile.

She did not smile at his joke, but instead became totally still. "I think... I'm ready to share," she answered in a soft, hesitant voice.

He was immobilized by her words, unsure if he could have heard or understood her correctly. Seconds passed. He saw her bite her bottom lip apprehensively, but her eyes never left his face. Crossing the room in a few swift, long strides, he took hold of her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. "Hermione," he breathed, "are you sure? Do you want this?"

"Yes," she whispered in return.

His eyes flicked to her lips, then back up to her eyes. He bent his head, brushing his lips lightly, experimentally, against hers. He pulled back for a moment, and his eyes swept over her face as if looking for something there, and then he kissed her full on the mouth. She opened her lips slightly, and he ran his tongue lightly around them before deepening the kiss. She made a small 'mmm' noise of pleasure, and the self-control he was so proud of was stripped away in a surge of lust, of longing. His arms wound around her, sliding down her back, pulling her against him. She responded to him with equal feeling, running her hands up his back to his neck, then caressing his shoulders. He kissed her face, her neck, her ear, exploring with his lips and tongue, savoring the feel of her skin.

His hands moved down to stroke her bottom, and she flexed her hips toward him in desire. She felt his hardening erection through the fabric of their clothes and pushed herself against him, moving up and down encouragingly. They were both breathing rapidly now, kissing, touching, almost intoxicated by the intensity of sensations. "Hermione," he murmured into her ear, "say my name. Tell me what you want."

He kissed his way down her neck then sucked just above the collarbone, eliciting a small moan of pleasure from her. "Severus," she said slowly, drawing it out to a hissing conclusion. "I want to touch you, be with you... in bed." Like a torch thrust into dry branches, the tone of her voice ignited his desire; he felt almost unbearably aroused. He pulled her to the bed, and they fell across it, exploring each other's bodies with hands, lips, entwining legs.

He was on top of her, her tank top pushed up to expose her breasts. He brushed his fingers over her nipples, teasing them to hardness, then took one nipple in his mouth and sucked, flicking his tongue over the tip. She arched her back and ground her pelvis into his, making him moan and increase his attentions to her breasts. Her hands roamed down his body, stroking his arse and traveling around between them to fumble with the buttons of his trousers.

He pulled away from her, sitting up a bit to pull his shirt out of his pants and over his head. He started on his trouser buttons while she pulled her tank top over her head. He rolled to the side, quickly pulling off his trousers and underwear, dropping them carelessly off the bed. "Let me," he said when he saw she was lifting her hips to push down her pajama bottoms. He drew them down and off, taking her knickers as well and discarding them with his own things.

Lying down next to her, he drew her into his arms. She gasped with the shock of sensation as their bare skin came together. Then they were kissing, caressing intimately. His hand glided down over her stomach and between her legs, gently rubbing up and down over her clitoris. Encouraged by the sounds she was making, he slid a finger into her. She reached down to grasp his cock, stroking him in the same rhythm he was using. After a few minutes, he groaned and pulled back. "Hermione, I want to have you completely...." he said breathlessly.

"Yes," she agreed eagerly. "Now."

He moved over her, positioning himself between her legs, gliding his cock over her folds a few times. She moaned and snaked her arms around his ribs to pull him close, to draw him in. Looking into her eyes, he pushed inside her. He thrust gently at first, setting a slow pace that allowed him to enjoy her kisses. So responsive, he thought, listening to her moans. It had been a long time for him, and the feel and taste of her, the sounds she was making, were like heaven. She brought her knees up next to his hips, moving her pelvis rhythmically up to meet his thrusts. Point and counterpoint, they moved together, their tempo gradually increasing until he groaned out, "I can't stop... I'm going..." His movements became erratic, and he kissed her fiercely as he came.

He was breathing hard, his head next to hers. Hermione turned her head a bit and saw an expression on his face that she had never seen before, never even thought possible. It was an open, vulnerable look, the look of a man who could care. She wondered if he had always had this capacity or if it was a newfound result of their intimacy. She was moved to touch his cheek, partly in tenderness, partly in longing.

He opened his eyes and saw her regarding him, saw the unfulfilled lust in her eyes. "Your turn," he said, pushing himself up from his elbows. Slowly, he kissed his way down her body, using his mouth to tease her at breasts, stomach, hips and inner thighs. Grasping her thighs in a strong grip, he pushed them further apart. He explored between her legs with his hands, lips and tongue, settling down to alternately lick and suck on her nub.

Hermione felt as if the sensations would drive her wild. Severus was flicking his tongue rapidly over her clit, bringing her arousal higher and higher. She was moving her hips rhythmically up and down, the tension building, building. Then he sucked on her clit, pumping his fingers into her, and her orgasm broke over her, wave after wave.

She was floating; an indescribable feeling of languor permeated her body. She reached out to embrace him as he crawled up her body, lying on top of her once again. "Incredible," she sighed. "I've never felt anything that intense before." They enjoyed a few slow kisses before he moved to the side and lay next to her. Turning to him, she noticed him watching her, an inscrutable expression on his face. She gave him a small smile, and he reached out to touch her lips softly.

"I will return in a moment," he said as he rolled away from her and off the bed. He disappeared into his lab, returning with a small, brown vial. Detouring to a cabinet, he retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Here," he said, handing her the vial. "It's a contraceptive potion."

"Thank you." She downed it quickly as he poured a glass of wine for each of them. "Uhh," she said, grimacing at the bitter flavor.

"This should take away the aftertaste," he commented, handing her a wine glass. She drank gratefully as he sat down next to her. They sipped in silence for a minute as he absently ran his fingertips up her arm. "That was not your first time," he said in a neutral voice.

"No, it wasn't," she agreed. He raised an eyebrow as if asking 'who?'

"No one you know," she replied to his unspoken question. "To be honest, I didn't really know him all that well myself." She sipped thoughtfully, unsure of how much to say. "During the Christmas holidays last year, I went to a party at the home of a childhood friend. Her older brother was home from college as well. We got together a few times during the break."

Her admission surprised him, having assumed she would have given it to Weasley, if anyone. Uncharacteristically, he was unsure of what to say, so he reverted to his brusque teacher persona. "Well, Miss Granger," he said with mock severity, "I must say I am shocked you would engage in a casual sexual encounter. I had not thought you so superficial."

She smiled, answering, "Really? You're shocked that the Gryffindor know-it-all would be insatiably curious about such an important topic?"

"Insatiable... I like the sound of that," he said in a low voice.

She laughed in response, a rich, throaty sound that went straight to his groin. He realized he wanted her again. But there's no need to rush, he thought. Neither of us is going anywhere. A rare feeling of contentment settled in his chest. He was not only tempted to smile, but actually allowed himself a small one.

After a minute, she turned to him, placing her hand on his arm and speaking sincerely, "Severus, you may not have been the first, but you're the only man to ever give me an orgasm by any means. I must admit," she said with a devilish smile, "it sure beats the hell out of doing it myself."

"Perhaps we should attempt to see if we can achieve another first tonight," he replied suggestively. When she looked at him questioningly, he continued, saying, "Care to try for simultaneous orgasm?"

*****

The next morning, they woke at their usual time. Snape found it was impossible to move freely, as Hermione's arms and legs were wrapped around him. He didn't object; he was actually enjoying the novelty of a woman touching him willingly. He lay half-awake, enveloped in her warmth for a few minutes. Gradually, his mind began to rouse, and a nagging doubt about her motives assailed him. Is she trying to manipulate me? Is it really possible that she is... attracted to me? He felt he had to know. He rolled from his back to face her, and she opened her eyes lazily, giving him a faint, sleepy smile. He took a deep breath and asked, "Why, Hermione? Why would you want this? Is it just loneliness?"

She pulled back slightly to look at his face. "Yes, of course, loneliness is a part of it. But there's something more," she replied.

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "I can't say – I don't know what it is myself. I suppose you could say I'm accustomed to you. I just needed – need to be with you." She knew it was a partial answer, but she couldn't articulate things any better. He didn't seem unhappy, however, so she decided to let it be. Things will clarify in my head, if I just give it a bit of time, she thought.

Snape didn't doubt her; he could hear the sincerity in her voice and see it in her eyes. Hermione, in his estimation, had very little guile. "Come, we should get up," he said.

She nodded and stretched as he rose and headed off to the shower.

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**A big THANKS to Larilee for betaing this piece!

Author Notes:

1. The Scots Pine is one of only three native conifers in Britain (the others being Juniper and Yew). It is also the only native pine and the most common evergreen and so, seemed an appropriate choice.

2. JKR has stated that Snape, in contrast to Voldemort, has experienced love. Since we were given a glimpse in canon of how unpopular he was among his peers (OotP; Snape's Worst Memory), it seemed sensible that the person who loved him would have been his mother.

*Author Addendum: Some readers may have found it disturbing that Hermione and Snape had sex. When I first posted this story on-line, one reader commented that it seemed akin to non-consensual sex, since she is his prisoner. Although non-con sex was not what I intended to betray, I think that comment shows considerable penetration. Because Hermione is Snape's captive, there is indeed an obvious power imbalance between them. Although the situation in this story is an extreme example, most of us realize, I think, that these sorts of power imbalances in relationships are actually quite common. For example, being involved with someone who is much older, richer, more educated or even (God forbid) a supervisor/boss or professor. Although the sex/power dynamic is not one of the major themes I intended to explore, it is certainly a theme, and therefore probably deserves some consideration. Instead of trying to articulate my opinion, I will give you a quote from Ursula LeGuin's writing to mull over – because she is just so much more eloquent than I am...

"I can say only that it may be in our sexuality that we are most easily enslaved, both men and women. It may be there, even as free men and women, that we find freedom hardest to keep. The politics of the flesh are the roots of power."

From: Four Ways to Forgiveness (Story 4: A Woman's Liberation).