.

Immediately

.

He couldn't help staring. The last time he'd seen Hermione Jean Granger, she had been a too thin, dirty, bloody typhoon of a woman. Magic had cackled around her and from her and she'd saved probably more lives on that bloody battlefield than half the mediwitches combined. Now though? Severus savored the delicious ache that curled up from his groin. Now Hermione was all woman. Soft and shimmering and wrapped in a silk gown that looked like it would come loose if you simply knew where to tug. More importantly, she was heading straight for him with a look he remembered well from her school days. Pure determination.

Snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, Severus closed the distance between them and handed it to her with a quirk of his lips. "Miss Granger."

She smiled politely at him and sniffed her drink before sipping. "Master Snape."

He waited. Having worked with Gryffindors since he had bloody well gotten out of school, Severus knew that they couldn't stand a moment's silence. Not when they had a mission. And Hermione Granger, he knew, always had a mission. He sipped his firewhiskey and stared at her through hooded eyes, wondering if he would be lucky enough to be her goal this evening.

True to form, Miss Granger spoke up after a few more sips of bubbling courage and a furtive glance around the room. "I would like to marry you, sir."

Severus choked. Miss Granger patted him on the back as his tonsils fought with the misdirected sip of firewhiskey that had burned its way down to and back up from his lungs. Of all the things he had imagined she was going to request–an evening of debauchery in the dungeons, a weekend spent nude in her condo, a demand for an apprenticeship that just might lead to more–marriage was certainly not the mission he expected her to be approaching him with. Curling his fingers around her elbow, he nodded politely at a few passing dignitaries and led her out onto a balcony, discarding their drinks on the way.

A dozen spells, wards and charms to make sure they were alone and stayed alone, he rounded on her. "Why the sudden interest in my hand, Miss Granger?"

She laughed and laid a hand on his arm. "I've been fascinated with your hands forever, sir. But the marriage bit, well, I just suppose it's time to get on with it, don't you?"

Honestly, marriage had never crossed his mind. Not even when he'd been in love with Lily Evans. Severus thought that perhaps the male mind wasn't created to consider the future outside of instant gratification. At least not the way women's minds did. There was a part of him, long buried, that seemed to growl in primal response to her offer though. He pushed that bit back down where it belonged.

"Are you under the imperius?" he asked.

Her smile fell and she rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I could toss it off in fourth year, I doubt anyone but Merlin himself could imperius me now."

It sounded like a challenge to Severus, but he held his tongue–and wand–and trailed his fingers down her bare arm instead. She was so very soft. But she was also dangerous. Talking about forever when they'd never even–

"Don't you think so?"

"Hmmm?" he asked, realizing she'd been yammering on about something and he, the fool, hadn't been paying attention.

She smirked at him. "I said there's an undeniable attraction between us, don't you think?"

He nodded. "Attraction does not a good marriage make."

"It's a start," she countered, playing with the buttons halfway down his frock coat. "And there are many worse ways to start a marriage."

Ah. He stepped back from her questing fingers and lovely, blinking eyes and folded his hands together behind his back to keep from petting her. So that's what this was about.

"Mister Weasley wants your hand?"

"Mister Weasley wants a lot of things, but my hand has not been one of them for ages," she replied, matching his retreat with slow, stalking steps of her own until his back was pressed up against the balcony railing. "I rather think he fancies Goyle's hands, actually."

Barking out a laugh, Severus gave in to the temptation to pet Hermione again. She was so lovely, like a present just waiting to be unwrapped. He rolled the pale, shimmering fabric at her shoulder between his thumb and forefinger and smirked when she shivered at his touch. He'd always loved unwrapping presents.

"So there's attraction?" he asked, dropping into a baritone.

She licked her lips and nodded.

"And because there's attraction, we must marry? Are you so old fashioned you can't have a roll in the sheets without matrimony, Miss Granger?" he inquired.

"Hermione," she breathed, looking up at him with her honeyed gaze. "You should call me Hermione."

"Answer the question, Hermione."

She blushed. Trailing his finger from her shoulder, up her neck, to the spot where her cheek was flushed pink, Severus arched an eyebrow and waited.

"I want more than a roll in the sheets with you, Severus," she said finally.

He tutted her. "Taking liberties with my name, don't you think?"

"No," she shook her head and her hands were on his chest again. "I've known forever that I was yours, Severus. There is no one else. There will never be anyone else."

His. Severus salivated at the sound of that. It inspired a primal part of him that he'd been trying to keep at bay since she'd first suggested marriage. A possessive part that demanded he take what belonged to him and refuse to share. Inhaling sharply, he grasped her hands in his and tugged her flush against him.

"Say it again," he demanded.

She complied instantly. "I'm yours."

"Again."

"Yours."

"All mine." The beast within took hold and he wrapped his arms around her. "You know what I am?"

The jeweled pins in her hair sparkled as she nodded, catching the light in a way that highlighted her now-tamed curls. Severus had the strangest urge to sweep all the pins away with magic and see just how far down her back those curls cascaded.

"You are fae," she murmured against his throat.

"And what do you know of the fae?"

Hermione pressed a wet kiss to his adam's apple before pulling back enough to look Severus in the eyes again. His inner fae loved how dark her eyes had gone. Dark with desire. For him. Only him.

"Have you ever known me to shirk on my research?" she countered.

No. That was one thing Hermione did better than anything else. If there was an answer to be found, she would find it. He smiled down at her. His fae-mate. The urge to possess her grew stronger but his human mind needed to be sure.

"Marriage will not be enough. We must be bound. For eternity."

"Mo chroí," she responded. "I'm already yours forever. Anything. Anything to make it true for you as well."

"Tonight?" he demanded.

Heat flashed in her eyes and her pink tongue swept across her lips before retreating. Severus had to consciously fight from digging his fingers into her hips, bruising her, claiming her. He growled as she nodded. Standing on tiptoe–though he wasn't aware how she accomplished that feat in the already tall heels she was wearing–Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. His fae rallied against his human side like the caged animal it was, demanding to be released and claim its mate. But Severus had to hear her say it. He had to know Hermione was consenting. And he hadn't survived two wizarding wars as the favorite shared pawn of Dumbledore and Tom Riddle by lacking mental fortitude. His damned fae could wait a damned minute to get her assent.

"Immediately," Hermione breathed.

Severus smirked, Hermione smiled and his fae disapparated them straight through generations of wards surrounding the estate. Now that it had permission to claim their mate, Severus' fae wasn't going to wait a second longer. As they apparated to a field of soft grasses and sweet flowers that could only be the hidden fae binding grounds, Severus claimed Hermione's lips in a brutal kiss. She melted against the hard, angular planes of his body and made sweet mewling sounds into his mouth that sent heat straight to his groin. Winding one hand into the waves of curls that seemed to have a mind of their own, Severus feasted on her lips, her tongue, her mouth and thought of nothing except owning her, claiming her, making her his.

After all, why wait a minute longer when his witch requested immediately?

Yeah, no clue. Just one of those things that popped into my brain and wouldn't let me sleep.

Thank you for reading, favoriting and reviewing this little one-shot.