A/N: This is a rough chapter, readers. Our Hermione lives with some pretty difficult roommates. These are characters of my own design...think Lavender Brown on steroids...


The door banged open and Hermione's roommates tumbled into the dorm room, all perfume and hairspray and rucksacks, chattering on about their current and prospective conquests. The book bags they tossed bounced onto their respective beds, mimicking the energy in the room.

"How's Gregory, Deryn?" asked Trista, shedding her maroon-tipped school robe and flinging it towards her bag.

"He's simply scrumptious," Deryn responded dramatically to giggles all around. "I'm meeting him later in the closet by the Charms classroom."

"Ian is a far better shag, Deryn," Breen cut in analytically. "Trust me. You should take him to the closet next time."

"Hey, look who's here," said Trista, looking over her shoulder.

The three girls turned to gape at Hermione, who had been curled up in her four poster, reading. They approached her as a pack and sat down surrounding her on her bed uninvited, effectively trapping her.

"Ooooh, Hermione, you're home. You're neeee-ver here," commented Deryn. "Where are you all the time, anyway?"

"In the library, studying," replied Hermione flatly.

"You always look so tense. Too much work and no play," said Deryn with a devious smile.

"Hermione just needs a good fuck. Maybe then she'd be a little more relaxed," said Breen over Hermione's head to the other two, as if Hermione were not seated between them on her bed.

"She can have Gregory when I'm through with him," said Deryn giggling, still talking as if Hermione weren't there.

"Yeah, once you've had Ian, you won't want Gregory any longer," said Breen to Deryn with a wide smile.

"Well, obviously Hermione needs someone who'll break her in gently, because you haven't before, have you?" asked Trista, finally staring right at Hermione, mock sympathy in her voice.

"I can't see how that's any of your—" Hermione started, indignant.

"Hey, let's suggest some blokes for her to shag, eh?" said Breen to the other two.

"Too bad Lockhart's gone. I bet he'd break you in gently," Deryn snickered, turning on Hermione.

"I think he'd have been a nice fuck, actually," mused Breen.

"You think anyone would be a nice fuck," Trista sniped.

"What do you think about Flitwick, Hermione? Probably a bit of an easy go for your first time considering his size." Deryn teased. "Or perhaps Slughorn. That is, if he's not so fat that he can't see where to stick his wanker."

"Oooooo, I know. How about Snape?" Breen asked, her green eyes bright, somewhere between joking and serious.

"Yeah, Hermione, what do you think about losing your cherry to that greasy dungeon bat?" Trista said snarkily.

"I bet he leaves an oily stain on his sheets," said Deryn, with a look of disgust on her face.

"Do you think since he was a Death Eater that he's all whips and chains and whatnot?" asked Breen wistfully.

"I doubt you'd enjoy that much, Hermione," said Trista, turning toward Hermione again.

"I don't think you should—" began Hermione, her face hot.

"I don't know. A nasty shag like that might be just what she needs," mused Deryn.

"Well, I think I'd volunteer for a go at office hours with Snape," said Breen, matter-of-factly.

"You'd volunteer for a go at office hours with anyone," Trista said snidely.

"Ewwww! He's disgusting. Just think of his nose," added Deryn.

"Maybe the size of his nose give us some indication of the size of his cock," commented Trista. "And if that's true…"

"Exactly my point. Something tells me he'd be a fabulous shag. Ob…vious…ly," Breen said, lowering her voice to mimic Severus's velvet tone. Deryn and Trista giggled.

"If you think—" started Hermione again. They ignored her.

"You think he's an animal in bed, Breen? Maybe he's gentle as a lamb. The opposite of the way he is in class. Some men are like that, you know." Trista said.

"My money's on savage. What do you think, Hermione? You think Snape would fuck so hard he'd rattle your teeth?" asked Breen, laughing.

"That wouldn't bother her, her parents are dentists," quipped Trista.

"I bet he'd whisper sweet nothings as he took your virginity," whispered Breen to Hermione in a voice loud enough for all the girls to hear. "But I'm guessing he only shags red-heads. He fancied Harry Potter's mom, remember?"

"Ever the romantic," said Trista, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm afraid you're just not old Snapey's type." Breen ran her eyes over Hermione disparagingly. "Too short." She grabbed a strand of Hermione's hair. "And the wrong hair—it would need to be straight and red. Your eyes are the wrong color too."

"No great loss. There's always Gregory, Hermione," said Deryn.

"But I've got a fair chance, don't I, ladies?" Breen continued proudly, flipping her smooth, long red hair over her shoulder to the front. "I'd bet Snapey'd want a taste of me. And since I've so much experience in the art of lovemaking," she said with a laugh, "he'd beg me to fuck him into next week."

"I think I'm going to puke," commented Deryn.

Hermione hung her head. You're not the only one.

They got up from Hermione's four poster all at once. "Well," Breen said, obviously finished with Hermione and the conversation, "let us know who you decide on."


Grateful to be alone once more, Hermione curled up with her Arithmancy book just as a bewildered first year peeked in her dorm room door. "Are you Hermione Granger?"

"Yes…?"

"Professor Snape sent me to find you. He would like to speak with you. He's waiting outside by the Fat Lady."

"Eh…thanks."

"Hermione?" the first year turned back around, obviously nervous.

"Yes?" she replied as she got up from her bed to put on her robes and walk downstairs.

"He looks rather…anxious. He's pacing. I thought you'd like to know."

"Oh. Thanks."

She made her way down to the Gryffindor common room then out the portrait hole.

"Miss Granger…"

"Professor…"

"This way, please, Miss Granger."

They walked down two flights of stairs, turned a corner. He slipped into an empty classroom and she followed. "Colloportus," he muttered, turning to her. "Hermione…what is going on? I felt you were upset. Is everything ok?"

She looked at him with her caramel eyes and said nothing.

"Is something wrong?" he persisted.

"It's nothing, Severus."

He noticed her lip was beginning to quiver.

"Tell me."

"I…just miss you sometimes, that's all."

"Hermione, what happened?"

He warded the door and conjured a large leather chair. He led her to it, sat down, opened his arms, and invited her to curl up on his lap. "I'm here."

"Thank you," she whispered. "My roommates are arseholes, that's all. It's hard to deal with sometimes. I shouldn't let it bother me. I don't know why it got to me tonight, but it did. It's not a big deal, Severus." A tear tumbled out of her eye and made its way towards her jawline.

"I don't like seeing you cry."

"I wish I could tell them to bugger off. But really, I'm OK," she said, viciously wiping the tear away. "I just want this to be over."

"Soon, Hermione. Soon." He took a breath. "What did they say to you?"

She was silent for so long he thought she wasn't going to answer him.

"They were teasing me about not having any experience, with, you know, and it got me thinking that maybe I haven't been able to please you in the way other women have or could…" she said finally.

"You more than please me. And certainly Weasley or Krum…" he trailed off, unable to finish what he was about to say, as if not articulating it would make it untrue.

"No, Severus."

He paused, digesting this new information. "Then, no one?"

"Just you," she whispered.

"Merlin, Hermione, you should have told me," he said to her, without reproach.

"There was no need. That first night, I just wanted to be yours. I didn't want to stop and I didn't want you to think about it," she said simply. "Besides, when was I supposed to fit it in?" she continued with a soft smile, her eyes glinting in the half light of the empty classroom. "After 'I just dreamed I'd shagged you senseless' or before 'I'm in love with you'?"

"Hermione." He took her chin in his hand and turned it upwards toward him. "We could have made that much more special."

"Severus, it was special," Hermione whispered.

"What an honour," Severus whispered in reply, barely able to speak.

They held each other in the silence.

"So your roommates know of us?" he asked.

"No, Severus. They were just teasing me and suggesting wizards for me to bed. Your name came up amongst a few others."

He fought the clawing jealousy that wrenched his gut at her words, but said nothing. He sensed she was not finished.

After a few minutes, she said, "They said I'm not your type…" she looked down at her hands.

He huffed a laugh, his jealousy dissipating. "Certainly you don't believe that."

She gazed up at him, and he saw doubt and insecurity there. "I don't have red hair for one…"

"Ah…" He said, finally understanding, and spoke the one word that he thought might always be forbidden between them. "Lily…" Was there nothing her memory would not taint? Nothing the mention of her name would not ruin? Damn her existence, even beyond the veil. Damn his whole fucked up life.

Hermione looked away.

He was silent for a moment. Then: "Hermione, when you were a child, say nine or ten years old, did you ever have a crush on a boy?" he asked evenly.

"Yeah," she replied ruefully. "His name was Geoffrey. He was two years older and he went to my Muggle school. He lived down the street," Hermione replied. "I was completely smitten. He never even glanced at me. It's likely he didn't even know my name."

"Then you know why they call it a crush."

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you still fancy this boy Geoffrey?"

"I think of his memory fondly, but I don't fancy him any longer, of course. I haven't in years."

"And although you no longer fancy him, you would never want to see him come to harm, correct?"

"That's true."

"Then you will understand when I say I was devoted to Lily as a child, and I loved her in my own way, with all my young heart. But we were children. When the Dark Lord targeted her because of my actions, I did my best to help save her and her son. But all that means is that I never wanted anything bad to happen to her.

"Does the memory of her still consume me? Is she the paragon that I hold all others up to, the beacon I use to judge all others? The only woman I have ever been attracted to? The only person I could ever love? No, Hermione. That would be like you saying you could never love anyone but your Geoffrey for your entire life.

"The memory of someone I loved as a child is something I cherish, yes. But her memory will never come between you and me. No one, and certainly no memory, will ever come between us, no matter the colour of their hair.

"The connection you and I share is something far beyond any experience I have ever had or could ever fathom. There is and there will never be another for me. You are my home, Hermione."

Hermione didn't respond but Severus felt the tension in her body dissipate at his words. "Severus," she whispered, saying everything she couldn't in just his name. Then, after a brief silence, she said, "How did you know?"

"That you needed me tonight? I'm not sure. But I was certain you did."

"I'm glad you came."

"Of course."

Silence clothed the room.

"Severus."

"Yes?"

"Is there any way I could…stay with you tonight?"

"I think that could be arranged."

They got up and he vanished the chair and removed the ward from the door. He kissed her hand, then let it go, feeling its loss sharply in his gut.

"Follow my lead if we encounter anyone."

"I will."

They crossed the hall and proceeded down the steps, toward the dungeon. Turning a corner, the portly form of Horace Slughorn suddenly appeared in front of them.

"Ah, Severus, out for a stroll this evening, I see," commented Slughorn patting his vast girth, "And Miss Granger."

"Horace," Severus responded in his most annoyed voice. "As you are undoubtedly aware, Miss Granger enjoys a great many special privileges as a returning eighth year," Severus said maliciously and turned to Hermione with a cold stare. "However, while Miss Granger does not have to adhere all of the rules while she resides here, she must abide by the curfew imposed on the rest of the student body. I offered to escort her back to her dormitory lest she…find herself lost again."

"Commendable of you, Severus," Slughorn replied patting his gut once more. "Well, good evening, Severus. Miss Granger."

"Horace."

They continued their retreat towards the dungeons. "You were brilliant, Severus," she whispered. "But why didn't he point out that we were walking in the opposite direction of Gryffindor Tower?"

"Ah, Miss Granger," he responded with a sly smile. "Horace did not want us to notice where he was off to, so certainly he did not want to point out we were walking away from your dormitory."

"You were calling his bluff."

"In a sense, yes," he admitted. "I have found that works best with Slughorn."

They didn't encounter anyone else on the way down to the dungeon. Once inside his quarters, she breathed a sigh of relief and unclasped her robes, hanging them on a hook behind the door. He unbuttoned his frock coat using magic and removed it, hanging it next to hers. "Nox," he murmured, leaving only the light from the hearth in the library to see by.

"Come here," he commanded and she fell into his open arms, sighing once more. He brought her hand to his mouth to kiss it, then silently led her down the hall to the bedroom. "Incendio," he spoke to the fireplace and a lazy fire blossomed from the timbers. They both sat down on the bed, sharing breath, locking eyes. "Permit me to make love to you," he whispered in her ear; she replied only with a shiver and a slow, deep kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He began to slowly undress her, button by tiny button, finally laying her gently back on the bed. She gasped as his tongue met her nipples and his fingers stroked her sex. Locking his eyes on her brown, he searched them for a subtle, silent clue as to whether she found pleasure in what his fingertips were doing, yet he knew, Merlin, he already knew what moved her the most.

And when she broke her stare, closing her eyes, throwing her head back and arching underneath him, he knew he had achieved what he set out to do, and willed his own body to wait until she had recovered from the pleasure rippling through her.

When he was certain the last of her climax had abated, he eased himself on top of her, slowly, languidly, fighting the desire to claim her quickly, the softness of her surrounding him at odds with own physical expression of desire. And when he finally moved to take her, she gasped, her eyes widened, and she whispered raggedly, "Severus…", and it was too much, far too much, for him to ignore. Unable to suppress his need to possess what had always been his, he drove himself inside her until he found he had emptied all that was him into the core of her soft body.

He turned to settle himself behind her and wrap his arm around her protectively, flesh to flesh, his chest lining the curve of her back. "I love you," he whispered into her hair, words foreign on his tongue yet familiar.

"And I, you," she said softly, sleep having nearly taken her.

"Sweet dreams, Hermione."

"Sweet dreams, Severus."


There weren't any windows to allow the sun to badger them awake. Severus opened his eyes to find himself tangled in his sheets, the still-sleeping form of Hermione next to him. Merlin, he loved the lavender and rose smell of her skin, her riotous hair was spilling over his pillow, her bare chest slowly rising and falling in peaceful sleep. He couldn't help reaching out to caress her shoulder. She opened her caramel eyes at his touch.

"Husband," she said, greeting him with a languid smile as she woke, rolling over towards his warmth, her eyes still mostly shut.

"Your hair, Wife, is a deplorable mess," he murmured in response, chuckling.

"And yours in not much better, Husband."

She seemed to suddenly realize her error. Eyes widening, she stammered, "Severus, I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I know we're not yet…I mean…we haven't…" she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to…"

"Hermione, stop. It's ok. Did you not notice my response?" he locked his eyes on her. "It was automatic." He smiled more widely. "That will come, my love. Soon. Your words won't scare me away."

He moved to kiss her tenderly, smoothing her hair with his hand until she seemed at ease once more.

"As long as our hearts believe we're already bonded…" he said with a sly smile, trailing off to let her complete the rest of his thought.

"…perhaps we can start out the day as bonded people do?" she finished encouragingly.

"Exactly," he responded, easing himself on top of her small, soft body as she breathed his name. And in that one word, he heard everything that had ever been said, or could ever be said, between them.