Part II

II.

Drawing his wand as she stepped away from the closed door, he reset the wards, adding an additional layer to prevent anyone from hearing what was about to transpire. Setting the slim shaft on the end-table that had stood between armchair and sofa, and now served as an impromptu nightstand, Severus watched her approach, her expression somewhat diffident as she dug her hand into her pocket. She drew something out and offered it to him.

"Um...here. You'll want to have this set out, too."

Bemused, Severus accepted the object. It was a small, clear vial, about an ounce in size at most, and etched with tiny runes. It had a wire-strung cork that was etched with more runes, and it was empty. Squinting at them, Severus realized it was enchanted with spells that were self-activating. A stasis spell, and a collection spell. "What is this for?"

She mumbled something indistinct.

"Speak clearly, please."

"My...my virgin's blood. I thought...you know, if either of us survive...well, someone will have a use for it. I remember the lecture from my first year--um, when Madame Pomfrey gathered all the witches together to talk about...feminine stuff. That was one of the things she talked about, how a witch shouldn't squander her first time in a moment of careless heat. She then told us where to go to learn how to make little collection bottles, and how expensive it was, and how a smart witch saved it and sold it to an apothecarist's for a tidy little sum...and I, er..."

His lips twitched upward involuntarily. "...And you, being the overachiever you are, researched the spells and made the bottle."

"And carried it around with me ever since," she shrugged. "Well, sort of. I just threw it into my toiletry kit and left it there. I took it out tonight, in case you didn't notice it and it shattered on the floor, or something. I'm lucky I even remembered it."

Uncorking the tiny bottle, Severus turned and set it on the side table, next to his wand.

She moved up beside him, bending over the bed for a better look at the sheets. "Oh! These are rose-petals..."

He turned to see her scooping up a few of them into her palm. They trickled back to the bed through her fingers. Severus cleared his throat. "They seemed appropriate."

"Wow. Severus Snape, closet romantic." She lifted another handful, smiling indulgently.

Now, that was uncalled-for, in his opinion. Shifting behind her, Severus caught her hips, pulling her back against him. She squeaked as his loins bumped her buttocks. "I assure you, I am not a romantic man. It just...it seemed appropriate for a first time. I am more accustomed to incinerating rose petals, or brewing them in potions, than scattering them across my bed."

She leaned back against him. Severus told himself the shifting of his arms to encircle and embrace her was simply necessary to keep both of them balanced. "Still," she murmured, closing her eyes and tipping her head back, "it's a very romantic thing to do...and now I wish I'd thought of it first. It makes the recipient feel just a little bit...loved."

Her voice trailed to a whisper, her cheeks tinting a little. Severus drew a breath to reply; the meaning behind her words froze the air in place before it could escape. I wish I'd thought of it first...makes the recipient feel loved...

A hundred or so rose petals just didn't seem like enough, anymore. His own wand was out of easy reach, but she'd tucked hers into a pocket of her jeans. Drawing it, he flicked his wrist. "Rosifolacea blanca!"

Magic sparkled over the bed in a cloud of glittering blue-white light; it coalesced and formed a fluttering rain of fat, white, scented snowflakes. He couldn't give her promises, couldn't even give her words, but he could give her this. He'd said he wanted a facsimile of being loved from her, but if he were truthful, he needed to express love in some small part, too. And how her friends would laugh, and his colleagues stare at him, if they ever knew. Maybe I am a closet romantic...but I'd rather lick my own genitals in public like a dog than admit it.

She appreciated the spell. He could tell from the shine in her eyes as she twisted in his arms, facing him. It was also easy to tell from the way she twined her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth down into range for a kiss. Nubile young woman in arms. Don't think, you dunderhead--act!

Severus could be a man of action, when the circumstances demanded it. Pulling her against him, he cupped her hips, then her buttocks. She squeaked when he lifted her into him, but given how enthusiastically she was returning each open, deep, tonguing kiss, he didn't think she minded a little assertiveness on his part. From the way she tugged on his hair, tilting his head to a better angle, she apparently didn't mind a little assertiveness on her own part, too. The kiss ended when she tugged his head back and pried open the buttons of his collar, then feasted on the skin she bared.

Lust slammed through him when she suckled on the hollow at the base of his throat; he could feel the play of her tongue and the scrape of her teeth all the way down to his scrotum. He cupped her hips and ground his erection into her through the placket of his trousers, growling with arousal--dammit, he was supposed to be teaching her about sex, not suffering under some bizarre sexual extra-credit attack! The moment that sub-thought flittered through his mind, Severus choked on a laugh. She pulled back, a quizzical look in her light brown eyes. That look changed to a gaping one. It took Severus a moment to figure out why; mainly he succeeded because of the ache in his cheeks.

He was grinning, that was why. She looked stunned, staring at him in shock. Severus threw back his head and laughed again, this time without restraint. As soon as he could breathe again, he pulled her into his arms again, hugging her for a moment, then released her and started unfastening the buttons of her Muggle blouse. Dropping to one knee, sinking onto his heel, he tugged on the shirttails of her blouse, but they were firmly entrenched inside the waistband of her jeans. She squeaked when he quickly unbuttoned and unzipped those, too, but he didn't pull them down, just pulled loose the fabric of her blouse and unfastened the last two buttons.

Gripping the edges, he pulled them apart, and stared at the dimple of her navel, revealed by the unfastened placket. It was framed by the vee of denim, and the edges of her blouse, with an expanse of soft, smooth, feminine skin above...and the lace-trimmed waistband of a pair of silky white knickers below. Somehow he doubted she'd started out with silk-and-lace knickers. She seemed more of a plain, comfortable cotton type to him. Still, Transfigured or not, Severus admired the packaging. The edge of the lace came up almost to the bottom of her navel. He'd never really considered navels all that interesting, but hers did look delectable, presented this way.

Leaning forward, he licked his lips, then licked the rim of that dimple of flesh. She squeaked, then giggled, touching his hair tentatively. A glance upward showed enough of the blouse had parted to give him a beautiful view of her breasts. The size of apple-halves, they, too, had been dressed in white silk-and-lace, a perfect frame for her flesh. Rising up off of his heel, he found he was the perfect height for nuzzling her breasts with nose, brow and cheeks. The contrast of scratchy lace and soft cotton tantalized him; lifting himself a little higher on his knee, he traced first his tongue along the edge of one cup, then his tongue, tasting the soft warmth of her skin. Whatever unguents she had used in her own ablutions, it smelled faintly of strawberries and peaches; the taste of her skin, however, was female. There was no other way to describe it.

Her breath caught in her throat. Fingers tangling in his shoulder-length locks, she pressed him into her breasts, encouraging his efforts. Severus suckled one curve with firm pressure, overcome with the need to mark it, ensuring that the reddish stain that his lips drew into her skin would stay through the battle tomorrow. Perhaps she'd point to it as a silent epitaph for him, if she survived; she had the damnedest luck for such things. Here lay the lips of Severus Snape, slain in bed by the little death, before he was slain in battle by the greater...

A morbid thought. He chased it away by licking the valley between her breasts. That made her groan. Intrigued, Severus did it again, tracing the line of her sternum. She pressed his face to her flesh. Something hard at the base of the vee formed by her undergarment drew his attention. He wasn't very conversant with Muggle garments, but it seemed to be a clasp of some kind; reaching up, he wiggled it in his fingers, nibbling on her other breast until the clasp popped free, giving him access to her flesh. He didn't free her breasts, however; not wanting to unnerve her by pushing too fast, he licked her centerline again, this time unimpeded by obstructions. He licked at the edge of her other breast, pressing his nose into it so that he could mark the underside of that mound with his lips, too.

She moaned and caressed his hair, her hips squirming restlessly into his chest. A moment later she tugged him back, dropping down to straddle and sit on his braced right thigh. Fingers tugging at the fastenings of his shirt, she muttered, "Off... Off!"

Aroused by her demand, by the plucking and tugging of her fingers, Severus lowered his own to the waistband of his trousers. Unfastening them as much as he had hers, he pulled his shirttails free. Their hands met below his waistline as he started on the buttons; being a gentleman, he let her finish the task. Grabbing the linen edges when she finished, Severus shrugged out of the garment, discarding it on the floor behind him. He watched her as she lowered her gaze to his chest, studying him.

He wasn't a hairy man, but there was a thin patch of black hairs over his sternum, and a trail of them that led down into his trousers, below the waistband of the black boxers peeking though the opened vee. There were also a few scars, remnants of curses and hexes flung at him, and the Dark Mark on his forearm, black and stark for the past few years; the most noticeable scar curved across his left pectoral over his nipple, and was old enough it was mostly only visible in the way it carved a fingerlength bald patch into the dusting of chest hair he possessed.

Severus knew he was also gaunt, whipcord lean from stress and tension, ribs visible under the lines of muscle and sinew; any spare flesh he'd gained before the Dark Lord's return had burned away under the complications of his life. Her first reaction at the sight of his sparse, marred frame wasn't to flinch, though. Hermione's expression was somber, befitting the sober history of his body, but she touched his chest without hesitation once she'd looked her fill.

Spreading her fingers over its lightly haired surface, Hermione slid her hands down his sternum and up his ribs, hesitating only briefly before gliding her fingertips over his nipples in a featherlight caress. A soft gasp escaped him. That made her shift her hand quickly away, to less volatile territory. Knowing it was out of shyness, Severus covered her hands with his own, coaxing them back up to the sensitive discs. He was supposed to be teaching her the joys of lovemaking, after all. "Touch them again; it felt good."

She ducked her head a little, no doubt to hide the hint of rose in her cheeks, but let him guide her fingers into circling his areolas, whisper-light touches that stimulated both of them. As shudderingly good as her touch felt, Severus found himself equally encouraged by the heat radiating into his thigh from the apex of hers, straddling his upraised leg as she was. And by the slight way she rocked against him. Their position, while hard on his left knee from the worn, thin carpet underneath it, did make it easy for him to dip his head a little and lick her collarbone. Leaving her fingers to trace their own patterns on his chest, Severus smoothed his palms over her hips for balance, and slowly tasted his way down the slope of her left breast.

An enthusiastic nuzzle of his nose in response to her soft moan disturbed the precarious rest of her bra-cup. It popped free, baring a generous portion of the curve underneath, and part of one rose-dusk nipple. It was a lodestone to him, the moment he glimpsed the passion-shriveled tip. Sliding his hands up to her ribs to hold her still, he brushed aside the rest of the lace-edged cup with his chin. A nuzzle of his mouth captured that tip, but not to suck as strongly has he had done to the side of her other breast; in his experience, women didn't like them suckled quite that strongly. They liked the little buds flicked and swirled, not mangled and mauled.

Truth be told, he preferred fondling for the texture, rather than suckling for the taste. At least, up here. And it could be a subtle tease, especially after he'd had the chance to nuzzle a different bit of her flesh, further down her body. Though she wouldn't know until later what he could do, Severus bathed her nipple exactly as he would her clitoris; he intended to keep her in that Transfigured bed long enough for her to learn the relationship between the two. Time permitting. Midnight was still a few hours away, but the hours following it would not keep dawn at bay for long.

From her little moans, gasps, and whimpers, from the way she tugged on the strands of his hair as she clutched his scalp, from the way her thighs clenched and released around his leg and her hips scooted closer and closer to his groin in a rocking motion, he knew he was doing an excellent job of arousing her. The laughable excuse for a carpet under his knee was uncomfortable, though. Time for a new location. Sliding his hands to the small of her back, Severus wormed them into the waistband of her jeans, though not yet under the lacy band of her knickers. When a kneading caress of her buttocks only made her groan and pull his head back for an open-mouthed kiss, he knew he could make the change in position without scaring her.

Tightening his muscles, Severus pushed upright, lifting her by the sweet curves of her derrière as he rose. A slight flexing of his wrists, and her jeans loosened, falling to the floor. She even kicked her legs a little, freeing her feet from the last, stiff folds of denim as she continued to kiss him...and took his breath away as she wrapped those legs around him. Now it felt like he was the one being seduced. For an intense, mind-shattering moment, all he could think of was ripping off those knickers, shoving down his own clothes, and burying himself in the damp heat he could feel radiating through the fabric separating them. Only for a moment, though; he hadn't survived a brutal underground war for this long without being able to think through even the most distracting of moments.

It helped that her legs, hooking around his hips, had dislodged his own unfastened trousers. Subtle shifts of his legs allowed him to step out of them as they slumped to his feet. A step to get out of them, and he bumped his knee against the edge of the bed. Convincing her to stop kissing and let go long enough to lay her on the petal-strewn mattress wasn't as easy. Giving up trying to untangle the thankfully humanoid, feminine octopus clinging to him with legs, arms and lips, Severus shifted one knee onto the mattress, then the other, balancing both of them carefully--the last thing he needed was to fall over and crack open his skull on the hearthstones of the fireplace. He could only picture Weasley or Longbottom being that graceless in a seduction scene, and did not want to leave the young woman in his arms with that as her last impression of him.

It worked; he now knelt on the bed with a lapful of squirming, panting, hungrily nibbling Hermione. Aggressive Hermione, too; she tugged his head to the side and latched onto his ear like an eel. A sexy, hungry eel. One who, in the midst of writhing on his lap with the slipperiness of eel-like qualities, managed to somehow rewire all the nerves in his body, stripping them out of his pleasure-numbed limbs to link the greatest amount of sensation between his left earlobe and his penis, which was being rubbed beatifically by her mound as she wriggled in his arms. Oh, yes, mustn't forget the scrotum and testes, too...

The combination of stimulation unwired his brain. She oofed when he landed on her, slain by a completely befuddled brain. For a moment, all he could do was struggle to breathe and wrestle with the primitive need to thrust. An ineffectual need, given he was still wearing his undershorts and she was in those damnable, lacy-white knickers. Somehow, without his noticing it, his erection had hardened to the point where Severus could have sworn he could puncture a steel plate with it. The thought was inane, but his need was almost painfully acute.

Prying her hands from his hair, he pinned them one at a time to the bed, fingers laced awkwardly with hers. Levering himself up a little, Severus looked down into her lust-dazed eyes. A shudder passed through him, a conflict between the need to orgasm now now now, and need to hold back and wait. Maybe if I can get her to suck the first one out of the way--no, no, I'm going to do this right even if it kills me! Oh, dear god, this is going to kill me...

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Severus lowered his mouth to hers, feeling both breasts--the other one had been bared at some point during her squirming--brushing against his chest. He touched their lips together, pulling back when she lifted her head to try and deepen the kiss. Her hips twitched and rolled underneath his, trying to rub her femininity against him; for his sanity's sake, and to appease his own need, Severus bore down into her, letting his greater weight and leverage pin her in place. In contrast to the hard strength of his modified push-up stance, his lips continued to tease hers in whisper-light touches, until she whimpered.

"Please...I need more...I need...something more..."

If there was a part of him that would have gloated to an ungentlemanly degree over her capitulation, it was off in the lavatory at the moment. Capturing her mouth firmly with his, Severus plundered it, grinding his erection into the hot valley between her thighs; some tiny, still-cogent corner of his brain registered the fact that he could feel her clitoris, engorged with blood, prodding against his penis despite the cotton of his boxers and the silk of her panties, and the sheer disparity in the size of the two organs. That part of his brain directed the rest of him to rub against that turgid little spot, until she gasped and cried out, tossing her head back in a wordless ululation of pleasure as she climaxed under him. Leaving her mouth to part and pant for air between crooning moans, Severus latched onto her throat as surely as she had his ear, earlier.

Here lay the lips of Severus Snape, murdering a maiden most thoroughly with the littlest of deaths...

He had to taste her. While she was still dazed, incoherent and unaware of her surroundings, Severus squirmed down her body and tugged on those lace-trimmed knickers. Freeing them from her legs, he pushed her thighs apart and settled himself between them. Her breath hitched, startled, but it was too late. A nuzzle of his nose to part her folds, too long and thin for everything but this, and he lapped at the moisture seeping from her core.

Delicious...

"Oh, god!" She shuddered and clutched at his head, but it was too late. Severus had selected his weapon of choice. Now the slaying would begin. The salivating, too. And the licking, and the lapping, the nuzzling and the nudging. Flicking, swirling, sipping, suckling--that one made her shriek and bow her back, when he managed to get his lips on her clitoris, prying back the folds of her labia with his fingers. In fact, those were the only two words she could manage to say, when she could manage anything intelligible. "Oh" and "god!"

He would've stopped after her second orgasm, not wanting her to get too sensitive for what would come next, but when he tried to move away, she pulled painfully on his hair. Gritting his teeth--damn, the know-it-all of Gryffindor Tower had a strong set of fingers!--Severus reasoned that he could teach her enough fellatio techniques to sate himself during the time it would take her to recover after a third orgasm...but she didn't let him go. Nor after a fourth orgasm... Did that little shiver and squirm count as a fifth? ...Holy sweet Merlin--isn't she sore, yet?

The greedy female sprawled wantonly on the Transfigured bed humped his face, all but using his ears like handles for leverage. She whimpered hungrily, encouragingly when he inserted a finger inside of her, preparing her gently, gradually for something larger. She groaned when he eased a second finger inside with the first, challenging him with the tightness of her flesh. When he found and pressed against a spot deep within her vagina, fluttering his paired fingertips against it, she squealed loud enough to make him cringe, hoping the silencing charm he'd warded around the room was strong enough to at least muffle her lusty cries.

Who knew Hermione Granger, bloody know-it-all and overachieving bookworm, had more sexual appetite and stamina in her littlest toe than most of the women he'd known had in their whole bodies?

This was now well beyond the line a teacher was never supposed to cross with one of his students. Oral exams were one thing, but oral sex was entirely another, as was such intimate fondling. There was another line waiting to be crossed, though. A line his loins demanded he attend to as soon as possible. Coitus. Intercourse. Copulation. Pulling back from the slippery heat of her quim, Severus shoved his undershorts down off his hips. He almost didn't take the time to fully remove the last of his garments from his body, but knew his leverage would be better without any restrictions or impediments to get in his way.

Tossing them free, he studied the panting, dazed witch sprawled before him. His fingers clenched in the bedding as he fought with the primitive instinct to claim her without thought or preamble. Soft, cool petals crushed under his hands, reminding him of his gift. Distracting him from his lust. Scooping up a handful, Severus trickled them over her breasts and belly. She sighed and arched up into the tickling caress, then squirmed upright long and shrugged out of the sleeves of her blouse and the straps of her bra. Shoving the tangle of fabric off the bed, dragging a small flutter of rose petals, she stared up at him. Smoldered at him, with all the bravery of a Gryffindor and all the obliviousness of a Hufflepuff, where her naked, aroused state was concerned.

Severus took half a second to silently preen over his handiwork. Hermione Granger had started out shy and hesitant. She was shy and hesitant no longer. In fact, he had to intercept the hand that reached for his erection before a single touch from her fingers could ruin his self-control completely.

Pressing her back into the bedding, grateful she was willing to be subdued, he slowly covered her with his body. Another trickle of rose petals crushed the heady scent between their skin. Nudging her thighs, Severus braced himself over her splayed her own legs, giving him room to settle his hips. A rubbing glide made her gasp and arch her head back, as he toyed with the length of his prick through the folds of her quim, coating it in her own moisture.

A shift, and he freed a hand from bracing the weight of his torso long enough to aim the head at the right spot on her quim. And then, a slow, firm, careful press into her body, until his glans lodged in the mind-numbingly tight entrance to her femininity, evoking a grunt of discomfort from her. Another shift, and the tip of his finger circled the very tip of her clitoris, massaging and stimulating the pearl of pleasure with the lightest of touches. Now was not the moment for heavy-handed tactics. Now--now was the moment when she keened and gasped her two-word vocabulary. Now he braced his weight with both hands, and thrust inside as she shuddered with pleasure, feeling the tingling of magic as the runes on the little vial came to life.

Now was the moment when she gasped out an expletive, an epithet, a slur on his parentage--

Not taking anything she said in this moment personally, Severus wrestled his basest lusts into submission, biting his lower lip as he sunk to the hilt in her too-tight body. Hermione was biting her lip, too, though her face was scrunched in pain, her breath rushing through her nostrils in rapid pants. He wanted to keep control, to give her time to adjust, but the feel of her flesh, hot, tight, soft, and wet, the shivering induced by the spell collecting her virgin's blood, the way she tightened and squirmed in discomfort, it all swirled together in a whirlpool of sensation and set him off. The only thing Severus could do was hold himself very still as all of his muscles clenched, as his scrotum tightened and his penis twitched.

"Oh...goddess..."

The broken praise accompanied the fire bursting through his nerves, igniting his brain. Each spurt squeezed itself free in an orgasmic pleasure distinct and separate from the rest, yet jumbled together as he bit his lip and did not, did not...she gasped, and he moved. Bracing his weight on his left elbow, he shifted his right arm down, until he could grab and hook her thigh, urging the crook of her knee up over his forearm. Slowly, smoothly, he withdrew roughly halfway and pumped back into her. Air hissed through her teeth for a moment, until the liquid spilled in her depths provided some extra lubrication. She relaxed, then tentatively moved, trying to match and meet his thrusts. Severus couldn't really spare more than a braincell or two in gratitude; most of what passed for cognitive thought was caught up in the chant of slow-ly slow-ly slow-ly, orchestrating the rhythm and gentleness of his thrusts.

Though he had spent himself, the feel of her under him, around him, moving with him kept him aroused. His shaft had softened a little, but not for long; the steady friction aroused him back to full salute at about the same time her timid movements and tight muscles eased into willing softness. If she was beginning to enjoy it, then he was doing his task rightfully; Severus shifted her leg to his hip, then urged the other one up, tilting her groin up into his. That permitted him to sink more deeply into her flesh with each rhythmic stroke.

Sweat beaded along his cheekbones, tickled along his hairline, trying to cool the flushed stated of his body. Those tawny eyes stared up at him, trusting him to show her more pleasure. Hands sliding up over his shoulders, she bit her lower lip, this time with a soft moan of pleasure. Lowering his mouth to hers, Severus teased her lips, brushing in featherlight touches, dampening their curves with the tip of his tongue, enjoying the way she lifted her head from the bedding, seeking a deeper kiss. He gave her one, enjoying the intimacy of kissing while copulating.

It was time to change position, though. Breaking the kiss, Severus eased her legs down. She blinked up at him in confusion. "What...?"

"There are...other positions," he murmured, slipping out of her body, "in which to find pleasure."

"Oh." It was barely a sound, as her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. Severus moved beside her, shifting to his back as she sat up. The look in her eyes, wide with wonder, let him know Hermione was eager to learn.

"Come here," he directed her, holding up his hands. "Straddle me."

"Like this?" she asked, shifting awkwardly over his thighs. Her fingers feathered over his shaft, damp with their combined essence. Aroused as he was, the too-light caress made him suck in a breath through his teeth. She sucked in a breath of her own when his shaft twitched under her touch. "Does...does that... Is that bad?"

"--No, no," he managed, releasing breath he hadn't realized he'd held. This was going to torture him, but... "Give me your hands--there, you cup your hands, and stroke. Like that..."

"Oh. It's...wet." She wrinkled her nose, lips curving wryly. "Is that all from...from me?"

The breath that left his lungs could've been mistaken for a laugh. Coupled with the way the corner of his mouth quirked up, it probably qualified. What was one more embarrassingly honest revelation? Just another line to cross, that was all. "No, I lost my mind, the moment I was inside of you."

"Oh. Oh," she repeated, as comprehension dawned. "You--? As soon as you...? That's kind of a compliment to me, isn't it?" Hermione added, blinking at him in wonder.

Severus, ready to bristle with a defensive rationale for being so precipitous, absorbed her words. Relaxing, he nodded. "Very much so. You are very passionate, and I find that highly arousing. Come, mount me," he directed her, beckoning with his hands. "I would rather you rode me than played with me, at the moment. There will be time for that later."

She hesitated, looking at her damp hands. "Erm...I kind of need to wipe my fingers on something."

His lips curled up at one corner. "Sex is supposed to be messy, Hermione," Severus murmured, amused by her fastidiousness. "At least, if you're doing it right, and enjoying yourselves. Come here..."

Placing her hands in his, she let him help her into position over his loins. His prick twitched against her thigh, making her shy away, then she released one of his hands, reached down boldly, and positioned it. There was only a moment of awkwardness, then she had found the right spot and was sinking onto him. Again, her teeth--fixed from their fourth-year rabbit-ish state--fastened on her lower lip, eyes closing as she analyzed the sensations she was experiencing. Severus found himself doing the same as her snug, wet heat enclosed him.

"It's very...tight," she murmured, making him twitch again. Her eyes opened; she stared down at him, and Severus twitched himself again, this time deliberately. "Oh. Erm...are you...you know, average, for a male?"

If he hadn't been so aroused, her question might've unmanned him. As it was, Severus gave her a pained look. "Hermione, you do not ask a man that question! Not while..." At her subdued reaction, he sighed. "Forgive me; I should've realized you would ask it out of mere curiosity. The average length is six inches. I exceed that by half an inch," he informed her. "The girth...I have no bloody idea. I'm proportionate, neither thin nor thick, and that's all I ever needed to know--and don't ask me to 'drop trou' and compare willies with some other wizard!"

She ducked her head, shoulders shaking. It was the muffled snerk-sounds and the reddening of her cheeks that told him she was trying not to laugh out loud. A peek at his face was met with a stony glare. "Sorry! ...Sorry. I just never imagined you saying--'willies'!"

The nickname came out in a squeak. Severus knew he could choose to be offended, or choose to let it slide. He chose the latter; she did have a point, after all. He wasn't the sort of man who went around saying 'drop trow and compare willies'. Not normally. Permitting a small smile, he slid his hands over the tops of her legs, tracing patterns down to the soft, delicate skin of her inner thighs. Her breath caught, and her humor vanished, replaced by wonder.

"Ride me, Hermione."

She blinked "Erm...how?"

Shifting his hands to her hips, he lifted her, then let her sink back down again. Those tea-brown eyes widened as she did so. The second time, she did it on her own, flexing her muscles. Smirking, Severus purred, "Now, roll your hips a little when you reach bottom..."

Her eyes fluttered closed when she complied, mashing her clitoris against his pubic bone. "Oh, yessss." Severus bit his own lip; it was obscene, how low and purring her voice had dipped. She splayed her hand below her belly button, covering the slight, feminine swell of flesh. Her hips rocked and rolled, twisting as she experimented. "I can feel it...so deep!"

Damn! Overcome with lust, Severus gripped her hips tightly, lifting his knees enough to brace his heels against the mattress. Leverage assured, he lifted her, then slammed her down, bucking up into her. His young lover cried out, her shout hoarse with shock. He stilled, battling the urge to buck into her like a hexed broom. "Are you alright?"

"Ohhhh..."

Definitely obscene. Bracing himself again, he bucked into her a second time, then a third, bracing his shoulders as well as his heels so that he could bounce her on him. He quickly tired, being out of practice for such things, but it was alright; overbalanced, unaccustomed to such a rough ride, she dropped down over his chest, catching herself awkwardly with her palms on the mattress before thumping into his chest. That allowed him to pull her down onto his shaft without having to lift her weight.

The rocking motion made her moan, made her add her efforts to his, but that popped him out, when she rocked too far. Squeaking, she blinked at him. Severus, breathing through clenched teeth, reached down and guided himself back into her. "Not...not so far. Short strokes are best, in this position."

Nodding, she let his hands corral how far she bounced and slid. Severus could only withstand it for a minute or two. Stilling her efforts, he focused on breathing rather than on feeling, then urged her off of him. He was damned if he'd climax precipitously again.

"Hands and knees. You'll like it," he added as she flushed and ducked her head. Catching her chin, Severus stilled her as she started to dismount. Drawing her mouth down to his, he murmured, "No more blushes." Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender yet firm. "...You're a passionate woman, Hermione. Revel in it. Now, on your hands and knees."

"Yes, sir," she murmured, shifting off of him to comply.

Severus followed her, and smacked his hand on one buttock as he shifted onto his knees. "Don't call me 'sir'. Not here and now."

"Sorry, s...Severus," she corrected. She peered at him over her shoulder. "Do you, um...have you ever done that spanking-thing?"

His eyebrow rose. "What do you know about 'that spanking-thing'?"

"Well, I have read trashy romance books, as well as my textbooks. I'm not all study and no play, you know," she defended herself. "It just...I read one of those books, and it sounded...strange. And yet...strange."

"So you were aroused by it, were you?" he asked her, his voice a silken drawl as he grasped his shaft to position himself.

"You don't have to mock me about it!" she protested, frowning over her shoulder.

"Oh, but I do. Not half an hour from your deflowering, and already you're eager to experiment on the wilder side of making love?" Severus dared to tease her, smirking. Sinking the head of his penis into her flesh, he reached under her body, cupping her breasts. Plucking at her nipples. She gasped, tightening around him in response. Aroused by her reaction, Severus slipped his hands back to her hips and thrust into her, as deep and hard as he could.

"--OH!" Her head flung back, slithering her tangle of curls over her shoulder blades and spine.

"...More?" he inquired archly, pulling back and thrusting sharply again. It was difficult to sound like he was in control of himself, difficult to be in control, with such heat and wetness sliding tightly around him.

"More!" she gasped. "You...spot...deep inside--ungh!--Oh god, yes!"

Nothing could have been more sexy than the grunts and gasps that escaped her as he gripped her hips firmly enough to later bruise and pounded into her depths. Once again, he reduced her to a two-word vocabulary of 'oh' and 'god', punctuated by the meaty slap of his hips against her buttocks. And then even that limited vocabulary vanished, as she growled and clawed at the bedding, shuddering and moaning and squirming with an intense climax as she snagged a pillow and pressed her face into it, muffling only some of her lusty cries. Her vaginal muscles clamped down around him, squeezing him, dragging him into his own orgasm with a ragged groan.

Slumping over her, Severus panted heavily in counterpoint to her own moaning breaths. Every handful of seconds, her muscles spasmed a little; the squeezing effect sent a shiver down his spine, affecting the friction-sensitized skin of his deflating shaft. As his heart rate gradually slowed, Severus found enough energy to press a few kisses to her spine. Slipping out of her body, he guided her onto her side, collapsing behind her. Catching one of the two pillows, he pulled it under their heads with his right arm; his left, he wrapped around her belly, pulling her snug against him.

Eventually they'd want the covers, despite the crackling fire heating the room, but for now, it felt good to let the air dry the sweat from the skin. Using his bent arm as an additional support under the pillow, Severus tucked his head into the ticklish, scented warmth of her curls. Though he was tired, sated for the time being, he let his left hand play over her stomach, stroking down to her thighs and the damp curls between, then sweeping up to fondle her sweat-sticky breasts and the softening buds of her nipples.

"Thank you." The words escaped him in a breath, but she heard.

"You're welcome... I mean, if anyone were to thank someone, it should be me thanking you," Hermione murmured, twisting her head slightly to speak over her shoulder. "That was...incredible. Brilliant. I didn't know you could...you know. Be so...intense. Well, I knew you were an intense man, but not in something so nice as love-making..."

"Hermione, I would appreciate it if you would never use the word 'nice'," he managed to half-sneer, too sated for further effort than that, "in conjunction with myself ever again. I am not a nice man." He waited a couple heartbeats, then added mock-thoughtfully, "Kinky, maybe..."

She laughed at that. Still chuckling, she squirmed around in his arms, forcing him to straighten his legs so that she wouldn't bump into his knees. Her hair was a mess, her face was blotchy from still being flushed with sexual excitement and exertion, and she'd wound up with a faint crease-mark on one cheek, having dropped her face and upper body into the bedding near the very end of their last position. But she was grinning, and her eyes were lively with the glow of her spirit, and Severus lifted his hand to her forehead, brushing some of her knotted light brown hair back from her face.

"You are very beautiful, Hermione. Inside and out," he clarified as she blinked, bemused. Somehow, in this moment stolen out of time, it was easy for him to say all the things he normally would never voice, but knew he'd take to his grave in utter regret if he didn't. "Your intellect is as brilliant as a watchtower light, a beacon shining over the dull-witted idiots who crash in futile waves against the shoals of academia. I regret not seeing your true thirst for knowledge and your potential from the very start. I regret being jealous of your academic fervor, so like my own days as a student, and I regret being envious of how easily you made friends."

She gave him a wry look. "I wouldn't call it 'easy'. It was only because of the mountain troll, in my first year. I didn't have any friends until after going through that."

"I regret being angry over every lie you've ever told me--starting with that one," he added dryly. "Going after a troll on your own? I knew you had more sense!"

"Well, it sounded braver than saying I'd run into the loo to have a cry because no-one liked me," she admitted, wrinkling her nose.

Pulling her head close, he tucked it under his jawline so he could whisper in her ear, "I like you..."

She stilled in his arms for a moment, then moved again, hugging him. Clutching him to her. Severus returned the embrace, feeling his blood pounding again. Her voice whispered in his own ear, "I like you, too."

Now was the moment when his tongue threatened to harden into Muggle concrete. Forcing himself to say the words--he wanted to say them, but it was hard to escape his taciturn shell of far too many years--he told her, "I...more than like you. I cannot... I wish you weren't my student anymore."

"I wish you weren't my teacher," he heard her whisper. "I wish both of us had a guarantee we would live, beyond tomorrow..."

Throat threatening to close, eyes stinging, Severus clutched her to him, burying his face in her hair. It was back: the looming threat of tomorrow. "I want to live beyond tomorrow," he hissed, striving hard not to do something as unlike himself as cry. "I want us to live! I want so much... But I'm as good as dead."

Was that a sob? Her breath hitched again. So did his, if he were honest. There wasn't much time left for useless honesty, just what was necessary.

No promises could be made; at least, not aloud. But he could make promises of his kisses, which he bathed each inch of her face in tenderness with, brushing back her hair. And vows of the touch of his hands; he swore his emotions to her in loving strokes, devotions that she returned with trembling but increasingly bold touches. And as she pulled him back into place over her soft curves, he gave her the oath of his body, neither saying a word as they stroked the tears from each other's skin.

They had to sleep, soon. Rest would be needed, to be able to face the coming battle with a clear and ready mind. But there was enough time for a second loving before he pulled the covers up over their bodies. And time for another, lusty round, when she woke him in the night with tentative, exploring touches. And time for one last, tender coupling in the earliest hours of the morning.

When they finally dressed and restored the room to its original condition, when they shared one last, desperate, regretful kiss, then took down the wards...the others were already up and making their way toward the kitchen for breakfast.

There was barely enough time for a cup of tea and a slice of toast before Severus clutched at his arm: the sudden burning trailing along the outline of his tattoo let him know he was being Summoned. As the others exchanged silent, anxious looks, he headed for the front door, needing to be out of the house before he Apparated, needing a moment to be away from so many pairs of stricken eyes. He'd risked his life to spy on the Dark Lord, risked his life to overhear about this final battle, and was risking not only his life but everyone else's that this emergency was genuine, that it wasn't a set-up for an ambush. A calm, unruffled mind was absolutely necessary, if he was to survive the next few hours.

He didn't quite make it to the front door. Hearing something hurrying after him, he turned to see what was needed. It was Hermione. Her face stricken with fear and worry, she flung herself into his arms, clinging with every ounce of her trembling frame. A glance over her shoulder, over the curls she'd had to tidy with a spell to make them look right, showed a couple of faces at the kitchen door, down at the far end of the hall. More than a couple of faces, as the first ones gaped at them, then briefly withdrew to report the unseemly way the Head Girl was embracing the Potions Master.

Damn them all--I want this! Squeezing his eyes shut, Severus returned her embrace equally hard, feeling his own muscles trembling with emotion.

"Don't leave me," she whispered. "Swear you'll come back to me, dead or alive--swear it!"

"Upon my soul," he vowed in a thick whisper. "If you'll have me, and swear the same."

"Upon my very soul!" she promised, clinging to him as desperately as he clung to her.

Holding her a long moment more, Severus finally couldn't stand the itching, burning pain in his forearm anymore. It was long enough, though, for his anxiety to drain into her embrace and ground itself in her fierce longing. Aware the others were watching, though they were forced to stay silent thanks to the painted harpy hanging behind the nearby curtains, he pulled back far enough to tip her face up for a final, thorough kiss. Giving her the only promise he could, the promise of his lips, his arms, his breath, Severus ended the kiss and set her at arms' length. Composing himself, Severus ignored the gaping faces, opened the door, and stepped out into the grey twilight of dawn.

It was Easter Sunday. The very day Lord Voldemort had hissed to his most trusted lieutenants would be perfect for resurrecting the full glory of the Death Eaters in a massive bloodbath, as Severus had listened from deep in the shadows less than two days ago. It was the day that would decide whether a reformed sinner and a newly awakened innocent would have anything left worth living for, by the time that the grey twilight of dusk fell.

God help them all...and God forgive him for crossing that line.

****************

Author's Note: This story is complete. If you want to know what happens next, you have my permission to imagine in your mind whatever ending you personally feel suits this tale best. In fact, if you go to the Petulant Poetess forum boards, and look under 'Challenges', you will find the Crossing the Line Challenge, where anyone may write up what they think happens next, and how this relationship is resolved, happily, sadly...or even weirdly, if they must! ~Lotm