Severus Snape closed the door behind her, and allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. It had been selfish, yes, and self-serving to accept her plea for help. Once it was offered him, he could no longer deny that he'd always felt a, a preference, for young Mr. Weasley's bride.
Never would he have gone to her, taken advantage of her vulnerable state. He was a morally flexible man, but even he found that idea repulsive. He wasn't, however, so scrupled as to deny himself the coveted fruit when it dropped from the tree and into his waiting hands.
And what a fruit it had been. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring to take in the remnants of her scent. She'd come to him, not drenched in some artificial perfume, but redolent with her own unique pheromones. It was infinitely more attractive to him, exquisite to smell the small shifts in her arousal. It augmented his experience to have this further proof of her surrender to his touch. She was real, this witch. In a lifetime full of pretense and subterfuge, she was a blast of truth. The desire to possess that truth was overwhelming.
She was so responsive to him, so eager. He was not so egotistical as to believe that her reactions were for him specifically. She'd been parched when she'd arrived, gripped by a thirst that was bone-shattering. He'd simply been the torrent that had fallen upon her. But now that she was in his bed, that would change. He would make her long for him, see to it that she never sought another for her drink.
Severus snorted, preparing himself a fine cup of strong tea. It shouldn't be too difficult. Apparently young Weasley had been as unimaginative in bed as he'd been in the classroom…and thankfully, Hermione's curiosity was as broad as her husband's had been narrow.
Of course, keeping her satisfied in bed was going to be the easier task. His skills in that area were varied, and his natural gifts, he'd been told, were exceptional. He'd have no problem keeping the witch satisfied.
Out of bed, well, he had no misperceptions about the paucity of his social skills. Still, she seemed to have affection for him, even in his true state. The fact that she'd never before had a partner who could equal her intellectual curiosity would surely be in his favor. A little effort on his part, and he should be able to at least approximate the behaviors of a suitable mate.
He, Severus Snape, a husband. He tilted his head back and laughed out loud. He'd been set in his ways for too long. How satisfying to realize that life had surprises left for him after all.
Smile on his face, tea in his cup, Severus sat down to watch the wind ripple across the moors. For now, all he had to do was wait.
End, Chapter Four
AN: Wanted to know what was going on in Snape's head? Now you know!