Severus frowned at her, the grey of suspicion clouding his eyes. "Snape…?"

"Madam Randall."

Hermione grinned at him, pleased that the old witch had said his name, otherwise she'd already be trying to explain herself away…and she wanted this. Before it got awkward and messy, before she had to explain. Just a witch and a wizard on a winter afternoon, hot with attraction and with a bed…just there.

"I'm surprised you didn't get the middle name."

Severus winced and stood. "She'd never inflict that."

He brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed it, his dark eyes now bright and hot. All air escaped Hermione's lungs. She never had been able to understand her obsession with this man. Something had always been there, fixing him as right and worthy in her heart…even when his every action seemed to say otherwise.

She'd always slammed shut the ancient tomes in a cloud of annoyed dust when they hinted at the words: soul mates.

His lips quirked upwards. "What is it about me, Hermione?"

His voice, whilst beautiful, didn't yet have the…gravitas that would make her belly squeeze…but this younger Severus had something she could never have imagined. Warmth and humour. It was a tighter snare around her already caught heart.

"I hardly know."

"Then…" He straightened but didn't release her hand. His eyebrow lifted. "Shall we find out?"

She jerked a nod. "Yes, yes please." Her face burned at how…gauche she sounded. "Through here."

Hermione led the way around the bulky furniture of her sitting room, to the little door that led to her bed. She'd scoured and deep cleaned the frame and mattress, had new, clean bedding and softly scented the air with orange blossom. Sconces spilled soft, golden light easing the dark grey of the walls and the bare floorboards into something…pleasing. Romantic.

Severus released her hand. "There is a tradition, centuries-old, in Slytherin—my Hogwarts' House—that with the sitting of your final NEWT, you are presented with…a gift."

His voice was low and deep and Hermione could only watch as he pushed through the carved buttons at the wrists of his frockcoat.

"A gift?"

It was a breathless question, escaping her as he loosed the stark white silk of his cravat.

He was already set in how he would dress for the rest of his life.

The thought hit her. She'd simply accepted it…that she would find this Snape. Just younger. But he was different. Almost sweetly…innocent in a way that made her want to shield him from the world. Even as he didn't need it—

Oh, fuck, he was taking off his coat…

He shrugged out of it and laid it across a nearby chair. She swallowed as he tugged the tails of his shirt free from the band of his form-fitting trousers. He was still slender, but there was a lithe strength to this wizard. She felt it, remembered it in the tips of fingers that had caressed the pristine skin of his Mark-free arm.

And—shit, shit—she should be undressing too.

Hermione shrugged out of robes to reveal the charmed slip that had kept away the worst of the winter chill.

"No Slytherin could enter life unprepared for the…pleasures of the flesh." His fingers stilled on the buttons of his shirt and a hint of pink cut along his sharp cheekbones.

A Slytherin tradition. Oh Merlin… The thought that future-Snape had continued the tradition made her blush too.

"Did you…?"

A deeper red sharpened his cheeks. "Hermione…look at me. What chance have I ever had? Besides you, addled little witch, that you are." He closed his eyes, his eyelashes that familiar black fan. His shoulders dropped. "No one has ever wanted me."

Oh, she was not having that. Here, she was his shield. For this.

Hermione wanted the confident wizard who'd so easily began to undress before her. She brushed his fingers away and pushed through the shirt buttons herself. He stared down at her with something like disbelief.

"I do. I want you. I'm irritating and bossy, and my hair is close to sentience, but I want you. Right now. Naked in my bed." She bit her lip. "I've a rather worn copy of the Early Norman Magical Sex Arts, signed by Madam Abercrombie herself. Page 112 is, I think, of particular interest."

Severus stared at her. He waved his hand to her, to the bed, to himself. "Why?"

"Because I like you, Severus Snape. And I've been out in the world a month, a whole month, and you're the first wizard who made my heart beat faster. And…more than anything, I'd like you to be my first."

"Your…" He swallowed, and the flush to his skin edged from his jaw to his neck. "Hermione." His voice was suddenly soft and edged with tenderness. Her heart squeezed. Yes, there, there was his honour. "You should give that gift to the man you love."

I am.

The words burned unsaid on her tongue.

"Would you treat me casually? Without thought? Take and not give?"

"No." He bit out the word. "I would never—"

"Then I chose you, Severus Snape." Hermione pressed her hand to the warmth of his cheek. She drew her thumb over its smoothness, pleased that the deep frown lines bracketing his mouth were as yet absent. "If you will have me?"

"Thoroughly addled little witch." He teased a gentle kiss from her lips. "How much…experience do you have, Hermione?"

She sighed, not wanting to spoil her blissful moment with thoughts of Ron. "Kisses from the wizard who will not be named."

Severus smiled against her lips. "He is a dunderhead for cheating on you. But his idiocy is my gain."

Hermione couldn't help the snort that escaped her at the word dunderhead. "Mine too." She closed her eyes. "I was fairly…sporty. Sort of. Exercise, anyway." No, she could never admit that riding thestrals and dragons had more than likely done for her hymen. "So…"

Merlin, she hoped he understood, before she dug a more mortifying hole for herself.

"Ah… And The Potion?" A wince pulled at his cheek. "I admit, I've seen no need for it myself—"

"Done. Slug and Jiggers recommended a new line…" Her words trailed away at the brightened flush to his skin. "Yours? It's yours?"

"Patented as a part of my Mastery."

She smirked at him, relieved that someone as adept as Severus had made her off-the-shelf contraceptive potion. "This is fate then." She pushed the shirt from his back and dropped it over his coat. "Sit."

"Bossy little witch."

But he sat on the bed and Hermione curled magic around the ankle-buttons of his trousers, sliding them through. His boots and socks slipped free to reveal fine-boned feet, before his boots marched to their place beside the chair.

Severus lifted an eyebrow and she smirked.

"Show off," he murmured.

Hermione pulled in a breath and yanked her slip over her head. She wore only her knickers underneath…and glamours. Thick wraps of magic to hide her scars; the unwanted gifts from Dolohov and Bellatrix.

"Beautiful…"

Hermione's face ran hot and she lifted her chin…and found him looking at her face, not at her body, at her nakedness. And that word. Whispered with a hope that caught her breath.

"I have had only one lover. And she…"

Hermione stepped between his still-trousered legs and took his face in her hands. "I don't care. I have you now."

His slow, warm fingers teased over her waist and he drew her to him, the bliss of skin against skin, with his head tucked against her chest…was bliss. She pressed a kiss to his hair. "I think we'll leave Early Norman Magic Sex Arts till later. Though, page 112, should be the first one we try."

Severus smiled against the slope of her breast, before he pressed a kiss, and then another, and…oh, that, he had to do that—

A mewl broke from her and Severus grinned before he curled his tongue around her nipple again. "Sensitive?"

The jagged strike of pleasure was fading—no, no. Why was he talking of all things? "Shut up and suck!"

He barked a laugh, but obeyed, the lap and suck of his perfect mouth, the graze of teeth just, Merlin help her, just right… Fuck. Her back met the soft sheets of the mattress, but he didn't stop, didn't...oh, there. And...he was naked. She was naked.

Magic. It had to be magic. Not that she cared, because his mouth…and now, oh—oh yes, and his fingers were in play. In her.

She fisted her own fingers in his hair, determined to keep him at her breast, because she was close, so close, the fire of her release an ever-tightening coil… There. Her breath grew sharp and hot in her lungs, her whole body straining. There…yes—

A wave of heat crashed over her and she cried out, lost, so beautifully lost…and Severus was moving over her, moving, silken skin and muscle and…fucking hell—

She came again. Fierce and quick and a shock to her already straining flesh. One lover. How had he had only one lover, when he could play her body this way? Well she was keeping him all to herself…

"With me again?"

His voice was a sweet and velvet rumble and she smiled up at him. She drew a long lock of his black hair away from his face. "Who needs a book when I have you?"

He laughed…and oh, wasn't that lovely.

Severus groaned as she flexed around him. "Hermione, I won't last long if you do that…"

She smirked and squeezed him again. Hard. "I'm two ahead."

"Then…allow me to catch up."

His fingers threaded through hers, the dark fall of his hair, the golden light gleaming over his porcelain skin…and he moved against her. Filling her. Filling her so deliciously. She arched into him, her hard nipples brushing against the heat and sparse hair of his chest, wanting more of him, wanting him deeper. Wanting him forever inside of her. He was so very beautiful. Vulnerable. Open. His lips parted. Eyelids flickered…like her, needing to see, to know that the other was there. Was real.

"More, Severus. Fuck me."

"Hermione…" Her name came out as a dark groan, lined with censure…and with desperate need. "You—"

"Will not break. Fuck me."

His mouth curled into something wicked. Dark. And —oh, yes— that was the wizard she wanted. Powerful. Ruthless in his pursuit of pleasure…

He stroked into her, fierce and hard, grinding against her pubic bone and dancing stars across her eyes. Fuck… Oh fuck… "Yes…" The word was dragged from her in a half-moan. "Severus… Yes."

And Hermione lost herself to the flare of pleasure. To the drive of this wizard as he fucked her so deliciously, so achingly hard. Her breath broke into laughter as the bed creaked and waves of dust drifted through the candlelight.

Severus' own grin was feral. "Merlin, witch, I have never—" He actually growled as she broke free of his hold, clamped her hands onto his muscled backside and urged him deeper. "Fuck…"

"Make me come."

"So…bossy." His breath brushed her skin, his hair a silk tangling with her own wild strands and a cool bliss against her hot face. "Scream for me, then, little witch. Scream the name of the wizard…despoiling you."

She grinned at him, caught in his words, in the low, velvet rumble and loving that only his brain could conjure up such a dark and debauched word…when her mind was melting. And there…fuck. The hot pleasure that bordered on pain, the promise, the promise of utter release, of…of—

Golden fire smashed over and through her. She shook. She thrashed. And his name—his beautiful fucking name—burst from her in a wail.

Somewhere distant, her own name was a growing chant and a final, final sigh and Severus pulled her to him, wrapping his long arms around her, squeezing her so wonderfully tight. She breathed him in—herbs and books and rather magnificent sex—and thought how she could plan to have a career naked in bed with him forever.

The brush of a kiss against her forehead broke into her thoughts. "That was…lovely."

He huffed a laugh against her, the rumble shocking through her as he was still…inside her. Still hard. She frowned. Had he not…?

"Severus?"

He hummed against her, something almost…sleepy.

She wiggled, the length of him a fresh pulse of pleasure in sensitive flesh. She bit her lip. "You're still…"

His soft laughter warmed through her and he ran a slow hand down to her backside. Long fingers gave a quick squeeze and she squeaked. "Give me time," he murmured. "Some cocks—mine especially—stay hard for a while after."

"As long as you…you know."

After being so sure in what she wanted in the heat of the moment, afterwards found her gauche again. Unsure.

"Oh, I did…you know." He smirked against her forehead. "Most definitely. And you, you demanding and bossy witch, have worn me out."

She pressed a kiss to his chest and snuggled against him. Oh, yes, that was still rather nice… "Good."

"Indeed."

A pulse of wandless magic drew the blankets over their nakedness and for a long moment, she was silent, lost in the comfort of his arms and the silken heat of his skin. And there… He was right about time as he…softened. Would this be her future, if her intricate plans fell the way she intended?

Her life with this wizard. Her worn heart ached for it. To have him and hold him close…forever. But…she'd yet to tell him the truth and had grabbed this time, this moment in a selfish, desperate act.

Shit, he was still probably torn over Lily. Guilt pricked at her. She had to tell him. But a part of her wanted…this. A warm bed, rumpled sheets and replete bodies snuggled under soft blankets…the swirling darkness of the outside world forgotten.

She drew in a breath—

"I can feel your mind whirring over, Hermione Granger."

She stilled. Was he…was he already a legilimens? Fuck, oh fuck…

Severus drew back, his dark eyes edged with gold…and something moved within them. Something grey. "Hermione. Tell me, if you regret this…"

He thought…? "No. No, not at all. Not for a heartbeat." She bit her lip and stared at the pale curve of his collarbone. "I…I know that you're not…over what you felt for your friend. But I…hope, I would like, for this one day to be our…more, Severus."

She swallowed and ploughed on, her nerves tight. "You're going to say we hardly know each other." Her face grew hot. "Well, we do know each other rather well now, obviously…but time doesn't determine how well you can know someone, that's down to disposition—"

"I am not John Willoughby."

Hermione closed her eyes. Yes, she had been channelling Marianne Dashwood, hadn't she? A curl of warmth chased through her belly that he knew exactly what she was talking about. She pressed a kiss to his chest and willed herself to meet his dark gaze. "No, you, you are the wisest and best of men."

He gave her the eyebrow. "Yes, I should think so."

Laughter broke from her and his grin, unsure and shy at first, squeezed her heart. She threaded her fingers through his hair, drawing him to a kiss—

And he stilled. "Are you expecting someone?"

"What…?"

There, over the thud of her heart, was the clomp and stamp of boots echoing up her stairs. That bloody doorknocker. Now it was letting anyone in to spite her—

Severus was up with a speed that shocked her, a leg in his trousers. She scrambled from their bed, infected by his worry, and threw on her robes. He already had his wand out, his jaw tight, his hand on her arm holding her behind him.

"Severus…"

He shook his head—sharp and quick—as a shadow moved over the crack of the open bedroom door. The thump of boots stopped…as did her breathing. Who…?

"Interesting company y'keep, Miss Granger."

The door rolled open and a magical eye stopped its swirl and fixed tight on her.

Fuck, it was not the best moment to introduce herself to Alastor Moody.