This chapter is posted in honor of Apocolips and sunnymint, our newest followers, and for Scarlett Rush, who just favorited this story! Hope you all enjoy the story, and thank you so much for reading! You guys are awesome!

I've gone back through the previous chapters and added some time indicators to help clear any confusion over when these little snippets of Anne and Severus' relationship are occurring on a timeline beside Harry Potter's. I also changed a few words here and there to encourage the flow of the action- but don't worry, there aren't any dramatic differences. Also, things start warming up between Anne and Severus in this chapter, as if they weren't hot already (but nothing too explicit- yet), so mind the "M" rating! ;)

Many, many thoughts raced through Severus' mind as he brought his lips to finally- finally- touch hers. Some were of Lily, some were of the danger he knew he was dragging Anne into- but most were simply physical- focused on the feel of her mouth against his own, her heavenly scent as he held her in her arms, the softness of her hair, the warmth of her skin…He had waited so long to hold her again.

When he finally pulled away, his breath came in gasps, and the whole of his body was screaming out for him to take her, now, here, on the bed in his private quarters, before any other man would dare to touch a prize so perfect. He took several deep breaths and passed his hand over his face. Chancing a glance up, he saw that she looked bruised, ravished, a little bit puzzled, and very, very vulnerable. "Anne." Her name was all that he could get out.

She shook her head. "Severus, why did you- ? Why would you do that again? Why did you say that? I have only just managed to forgive you for that last horribly impulsive kiss. You know how I feel- "

"Of course I do," he said, running a hand through his hair. There was sweat at his temples from the effort of holding himself back. He looked away from her devastating beauty. "You wanted me to say those things. And I know you have wanted me to kiss you for a very long time." He frowned when she stood to her feet. "What now?" he snapped. "Why do you have a look on your face like I have disappointed you, somehow? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Of course it is, Severus," Anne said, not bothering to hold back the tears that were coursing down her cheeks. "But this is not how I wanted it. I wanted you to mean it."

Before he could ask her to explain, she had fled the room.

Severus sat back on the bed, thinking that women were really far more trouble than they were worth.

That evening, Severus stood in his storeroom, carefully slicing flobberworms in exact quarter-inch pieces and flattening them with his knife so that they released their juices more easily. A book stood propped against a jar of dried lavender buds, open to a page entitled "Draught of Dreamless Sleep" in spidery, slightly crooked handwriting, but he was effectively making the potion from memory. How many of these had he brewed over the years? Severus scooped up the flobberworms using his hand and the flat side of his blade, dumping them unceremoniously into the already simmering cauldron. He leaned back, avoiding the purple smoke that wafted up from the bubbling surface of the liquid, and turned around to reach for his bottle of Lethe river water. Usually, a few drops would do, but tonight-

He dumped in a quarter of a cup.

Stirring the cauldron a few times, he returned to his quarters to allow the potion to simmer. It would need another hour. What could he do until then?

Severus tipped a large book down from one of the upper shelves of the bookcases that lined his office, carrying the heavy tome to his favorite armchair and wiping the dust off of the cover with his sleeve. He sneezed. Why did this chair still smell of Anne's perfume? He would have to move.

Settling instead in the chair behind his desk, he opened the book and began to study its contents. His eyes began to droop after several pages. Those damned, dunderheaded students would be the death of him- he took a sort of savage pleasure in covering their papers in fine red ink night after night, but the hours of grading were wearing on him.

Somewhere in the moment between wakefulness and sleep, he caught another whiff of the rosewater and lavender that Anne wore on her skin- or was it the lavender on his hands from the potion? Either way, it brought him an image of her long golden hair, and he reached out to wrap his hand in it. It was so soft, and he loved the way her pupils darkened when he tugged on it- just there, at the nape of her neck.

He could feel her soft lips moving hesitantly against his, her breath warm on his cheek, her weight in his lap…

He grabbed her and pulled her to him, loving the feeling of her flesh pressed close to his own, the movement of her hips as she rocked against him- he dug his nails into her alabaster skin- oh, he needed his release… How he wanted to feel her- all of her!...

This time, she did not resist him, and all thoughts of Lily were far away. He undressed her slowly, reveling in her moans as he unveiled inch after achingly smooth inch of her beautiful skin. He struggled with his own robes, needing to feel her with more than just his mouth or his hands…

He awoke suddenly to the smell of burning potion. The candles had burned down to stubs in their holders, and darkness enveloped him. He looked up at the clock. It was after 2 A.M. He rubbed a hand over his tired face and let out a sigh. The potion was ruined- he could smell acrid smoke seeping from under the door to the storeroom. He would have to try to sleep without it tonight. But how could he, with such dreams torturing him every time he closed his eyes?

Severus stood and swept his arm across his desk irritably. Bottles, parchment, ink, and a half-empty flagon of wine were sent crashing to the floor as he unleashed his temper. Leaving the mess for the morning, Severus went into the storeroom to clean up his cauldron, now sticky with the remains of his potion. Dawn was only hours away- he would simply avoid the dream by staying awake. Merlin have mercy on the idiots in my classes, he thought humorlessly. I am in no shape to teach today. But teach he must, and so he set aside all thoughts of Anne and went about his day, his temper even shorter than usual.