AN: Thank you to all my betas and to my wonderful reviewers. I can't express how much fun you make this little hobby of mine!

Chaos erupted in the room. Snape watched them as his words sunk in and comprehension tripped and stumbled along behind. Only Harry and Hermione seemed to see the direction in which he was heading.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Severus. Are you saying my family has been threatened by a portrait?" Lucius asked.

"Yes. As well as someone else who's been seduced by the words of a portrait."

Harry snatched his glasses off and wiped them on the hem of his robes. "You're going to have to give me more to go on than your word, Snape. You're asking me to believe something I really don't want to contemplate."

"I will give you your proof. Soon."

"Proof of what?" cried Ron. "Who are we talking about?"

"Dumbledore," Hermione answered quietly.

Snape nodded and turned to Weasley. "When we were talking about someone who was unhappy with the way things have been the last five years, someone who used to be in power, and who would benefit if the Ministry were thrown into chaos, you were thinking of people. I wasn't. I might not have thought of him had he not been so clumsy when he tried to coerce me into taking the seat Kingsley offered me on the Wizengamot. He wanted me to be his puppet. I'll bet good money Kingsley got the idea from the portrait."

"Oh, gods." Harry sat down heavily. "It was his idea for me to give you a portrait of him. I thought it would be something you would really like. It was also his idea to have all those protective charms layered onto the canvas! He said it would be prudent, since you might place him in your lab! He knew there was a chance you would try to destroy him!"

"I assure you, he would had been dust already, but I didn't want to insult you by destroying your gift," Snape said.

"Why would Albus do this? We already consult with him. He's already an important advisor to the Wizengamot, the Minister, and me. He exercises influence over the entire Ministry and Hogwarts. What more could he want?"

"Not Hogwarts," said Hermione.

"What do you mean?" asked Snape.

"Minerva moved him out of her office. She was tired of his constantly criticizing the way she ran the school."

Snape felt the little hairs on his neck stand up.

"When? When did she move him out of the Headmaster's office?"

"Almost two years ago."

"So." Snape got up and paced in a tight circle. "Where did she move him to?"

"The Library. He still appears in her office from time to time, but he knows he's lost her ear. She told me that even at first when he would force one of the other Head's out of their portrait and spend hours there looming over her, she felt she had the wherewithal to ignore his advice because she'd already taken him down a peg."

"We need to speak with her. We need to find out if she knows who might have been susceptible to his advice. Your kidnapping was an inside job, Granger. We need to figure out who has been spending time with that portrait and then watching you enough to learn your habits. The answer is probably on these other lists." He pointed to the table with the accumulated guest lists.

Harry groaned and tugged violently at his hair. "Why? Why would he do this?" he repeated.

Snape answered in his best, matter-of-fact voice. People tended to hear unpleasant facts better without varnish. "Albus is dead, Harry. I killed him. Portraits are just remnants. Echoes that have a certain amount of sentience. In life, Albus had a drive for power that brought him tragedy, and he changed his ways. He could be coldly manipulative, but he always worked for the greater good. His portrait seems to have lost a lesson he'd learned in life and its flaws have become more pronounced over time. It's intelligent. It's conniving. It has little conscience. And it is not Albus. The plain truth is, Albus Dumbledore wouldn't have been caught so easily had he wanted to take over the Ministry."

"What should we do? I'm lost here." Harry looked around, and Ron went over to put his hand on his shoulder. Hermione got up and hugged him as well. Snape tried not to react. He hadn't begun to get a handle on his feelings for the young woman yet, and now wasn't the time to find out they roamed around in the area marked: territorial.

"Go find me a thug missing three fingers."

"I'll go over these guest lists with Luna. Maybe she'll see something we missed," said Draco.

"I'll take my wife home first," said Lucius, "but then I can join you on your stakeout, Mr. Potter."

"No," said Snape. "Let's not risk you being seen with Harry yet. There will be plenty of time for you to use your anger after I set the trap."

"When will you do that?" asked Potter

"We need enough people in place before I set the bait. We'll need to have a better idea of how many we're up against so we'll know how many we'll need."

"Well, then. Let me go get you a two-fingered thug. C'mon, Ron. Let's go back to the Ministry and pretend we're frustrated with the rescue while we get some gear."

"What about Snape and Hermione?" Ron asked turning towards them. "Where will you stay? Do you want to stay with Lavender and the kids?"

Snape almost gagged at the thought. "We have somewhere safe to stay already. We'll be fine. We'll meet back here in the morning at eight."

Snape escorted everyone to his Floo in the cellar. As each person said their goodbyes and left, Snape's blood ran a little thinner, and his bladder started to act up. Eventually the last of them were gone, and he'd broken out into a cold sweat. He considered jumping through the Floo after them. He sighed and walked up the stairs as if going to his execution.

Hermione was tidying up when he came back into the room.

"We shouldn't stay much longer. They'll come here eventually when we don't turn up anywhere else."

"Where are we going?"

"I think we should find a Muggle hotel in the city. Wizards are always blinded by their own prejudices. It won't occur to them we would hide in the Muggle world right next door. They'd expect us to run somewhere more remote."

"What should I pack?"

His gut clenched at her innocuous question and he sighed as he replied, "Toothpaste."

It was about eight in the evening, still early enough for the last of the daylight outside to light up the strange patterns on the textured ceiling of the hotel room. Hermione lay on the firm mattress and reflected on the bizarre and hectic day that had started with grand theft auto and hit its crescendo with the realization that her life had been thrown into danger and chaos by a bored portrait that just wanted to be more important. In between these two points, she'd watched her two best friends knit themselves back together, witnessed a strained marriage slide back onto firmer footing, and argued the meaning of cowardice to a standstill with a man she was beginning to think was hopelessly irrational in some areas. The day had been filled with too many thoughts for her mind to get a handle on. There was just too much input for her to figure out where best to spend her energy thinking.

She sighed and was distracted by her sock flopping around. It hadn't made it all the way off her foot.

She couldn't help but feel a little let down. It was perfectly normal, she knew. She'd spent days terrified, followed by a grueling ramble through the country. Everything since had been a pattern of fear followed by insecurity. It only made sense that once she was lying still, she would start to feel a bit despondent. It was also patently clear that they had rushed things. But even still, she really would have thought things would have been, well, less boring.

She looked away from her sock and darted a look at Snape's face. He looked like he was in pain. He'd sworn he was fine and had even seemed to get snippy with her for implying he needed a good night's sleep. The expression on his face seemed to tell another tale. He definitely seemed in pain - when he wasn't looking confused. He certainly didn't seem to be enjoying himself at all. He was staring at a fixed point above her head as if it offended him and scowling fiercely with his jaw clenched tight.

She probably wore the same expression. Not that she was in pain - the books seemed to have gotten that wrong as well. She was just…sort of uncomfortable, with strange moments of near-pleasure. She really thought sex would be more enjoyable and she really didn't think it would take so long. Admittedly, her knowledge came from dormitory bragging and her secret stash of romance novels, so she knew there'd been room for error, but she thought the man usually had trouble containing himself because his pleasure was so great. Snape didn't look like he was experiencing much pleasure. In fact, he looked like he was having an aneurism as he worked his way out and back in again slowly. Too slowly. If he went any slower, she was pretty sure she would give in to her desires and fall asleep. She really wished she'd had enough time to take that bloody sock off.

Snape darted a glance down between their legs again and then got that same, confused look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" she finally asked.

He froze. "What?"

"Is something wrong? You keep looking down as if you forgot something."

Personally, she thought he'd forgotten a lot of things, like a kiss to start. It had all been very matter-of-fact and business-like, and she was doing her damnedest not to be horribly insulted. He'd basically climbed into bed as if going to his doom and been annoyed when she told him they were both too tired. He'd made a somber ceremony of casting the Contraceptive Charm. She'd suspected him of being noble. The thought was kind of sweet.

"So what's wrong? Am I missing any parts?" Not that he could see them all. He hadn't let her take her shirt off and hadn't seemed interested in even a cursory view of what he had been so enamored of last night. He hadn't bothered to take all his clothes off either. He was still wearing his undergarments, but his boxers had migrated down to meet his socks. Not the romantic figure she'd imagined. He'd been a lot more attractive when he'd been scraped raw and bruised while completely naked in the tub.

"No, you're fine. I just - you're fine." He looked at her and seemed to finally realize she wasn't particularly enjoying herself. "Am I hurting you? I think I can go slower…"

"No! I'm fine, really, although I am starting to chafe a bit."

He sighed in frustration and looked back down to wear they were joined. "Are you sure you're a virgin, Granger?" he asked.

"I think I'd know if I ever had a man in my bed. It's not the sort of thing you don't notice," she answered with asperity.

"I thought there was a barrier to break through. If there was, I didn't notice. And virgins are supposed to bleed a lot. And there's supposed to be pain."

"Well, I'm sure that's the way it is when we're younger, but I'm nearly twenty-four. I suspect my hymen died of old age. Or I might have lost it horseback riding, maybe even broom riding, not that I do that much. Or perhaps I could have even done it in when I diddled myself one night and didn't notice." Hermione stopped talking when she felt him move inside of her, even though his body was still.

"You diddle?" he asked in a parched voice.

"Of course, doesn't everyone?"

His face took on an amazed expression and he dropped down onto his elbows. "Well, I wank more than diddle. How often do you…diddle?"

Hermione realized the question wasn't mere curiosity. The topic seemed to have elicited a response from his member. He'd grown a lot harder. A lot. It felt rather nice. She smiled.

"Well, I don't know what's average, so I don't know I should answer. I won't know if I'm making myself look bad or not."

"I won't tell a soul," he said. The way he said it made her belly flip, and his mouth dropped open slightly in response. Now this was more like it.

"Nightly," she whispered. His eyes closed slightly, and he licked his lips. "And I have toys." He made a strangled sound and ground against her. That felt lovely. "Several toys. Sometimes I use more than one at a time."

"Ohhhh," He started to thrust again, this time with more vigor. His long fingers started to pull on the fabric of her shirt. "Tell me more, Granger. Tell me everything."

She bent forward a bit and pulled the shirt off over her head. His eyes widened, and he groaned. "Can I play with your tits?"

"Please! Do something!" He attacked them in the most delightful way.

"You stopped talking," he said between licking and sucking. "I want to hear what else you do. What do you think about?"

She grabbed her breasts and pushed them together, and he sighed and received them gratefully, burying his face in them. She reveled in the new-found power she had over him.

"Well, after I ruined your clothes and went to bed, I thought about you last night."

"Oh gods," he groaned. He surged up farther on the bed and kissed her hard and she realized that power ran both ways. Her thoughts shattered as he finally broke free from whatever had been restraining him. His tongue wasted no time sliding into her mouth, and she clawed his shirt off with trembling hands while kicking at the bed to get that damned sock off. He started to snap his hips with more urgency.

"Granger, I don't think I can keep being gentle."

"Oh, for mercy's sake, stop being gentle! Why are you being gentle?"

"Because you're a virgin! I was afraid of hurting you, or scaring you!"

"Gods, you've been boring me! This is so much better!"

"I'm sorry." He kissed her on the mouth. "It was your first time." He kissed her on the cheek. "I thought I was supposed to go slow. Make it less traumatic or some shite." He kissed her on the earlobe and then sucked it into his mouth as she let out a low moan and clenched around his cock. "Oh, Merlin!" He surged within her. "I've been trying not to come since I pulled your knickers down. I've been imagining you were Pomona Sprout. It's been so long for me, and you're too beautiful for your own good, Granger. I'm not going to last."

"Then don't! I don't want to be made love to, I want to shag. I've been wanting someone to shag me for years! I don't care if you only last one minute, just make it a minute I'll remember when I've shriveled away."

"I'll give you more than one minute, Granger. I'll do you everyway you've been thinking about when you diddle yourself in the dark of the night, if that's what you want." He pushed up off of her and flipped her over with a strength that left her breathless.

"On your knees, witch. Let's make this count, hmm?" He didn't wait for a response before he slid himself between her folds and pushed into her. "Circe's teats, you're so hot, Granger. You're so tight I almost broke something trying not to lose control."

"I want you to lose control…"

He growled and bent over and licked her shoulders as he started to pound into her while one hand played with her nipples. Hermione began a low moan that rose in volume and tone until she was keening under him. She felt her orgasm building and reveled in the sounds and the feeling of his sharp hipbones slapping against her. He pushed himself back, and she straightened out her arms and started to meet his thrusts. He let lose a wild snarl from deep in his chest, and she answered with a high-pitched cry of her own. One of his hands snaked along her spine and grabbed up a fistful of her hair and tugged on it. His other hand dug into her hip.

She blew apart with a wail. Her release came faster than she had expected and she had an instant of sadness that it had let go already. Despite what she had said, she was sure this would be her only time, and she wished it could have lasted forever.

"Yesss," he hissed and after a few more thrusts, she felt him pulse deep within her while he moaned and whined above her. He lowered himself onto her back, and she could feel his heart slamming in his chest. She collapsed slowly to the bed, and he shifted slightly. They ended up with her on her stomach while he draped bonelessly against her left side with one leg curled over hers. His warm hand coasted up and down the length of her side.

"Was that more like it?" he asked in a deep, raspy voice. The words held a note containing the smallest trace of insecurity, only noticeable because the note held its sustain after the other tones faded. She rolled languorously until she was facing his glittering black eyes.

"That was exactly like it."

He smiled, and she drew back as his eyes took on a crafty look. "Stay here," he said, rolling off the bed and grabbing at his trousers.

"Where-"

He silenced her with a kiss. "No questions."

She watched him, bemused, as he closed up his trousers and threw his cloak on without bothering with a shirt. He picked up his wand and with a devilish smirk, he vanished with a crack.

Hermione sat up in the bed and looked around. He'd left behind his shirts, his boxers and one sock. Where the hell did he go?

She had just come back from a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up and crawled back under the blankets when he arrived with another crack. His robe flared out as he finished his turn and the sight of his pale, naked chest draped in black cloth made her toes curl.

"What-"

He held up a hand containing a large potion bottle. "I brewed this months ago when I was planning my campaign to sleep with at least a third of the witches in Britain."

"Only a third?"

"I factored in the too young, too old, the sick, and the distasteful."

"Oh. Very logical."

"Not really, I forgot to factor in the too stupid." He set the unmarked bottle down by the bed, along with a jar that was unmistakably healing salve. He stripped back out of his few articles of clothing. She flipped the corner of the blankets to the side, and he slid in next to her and pulled her into his arms.

"Did you go back to Spinner's End? Wasn't that foolish? Why on earth would you do that?"

"I did. I was fine." He reached over and uncorked the bottle. "And for this." He drank a sip and put the bottle down so he could curl both of his arms around her. He rolled over and pulled her on top of him and kissed her. A moment later, she felt his renewed arousal poking her in the leg.

"Oh!" she said without breaking the kiss.

"Indeed," he replied. "You deserved more than a minute."

"How many doses of that can you take?"

"Until you run out of ways you want to be ravished, or I faint. Whichever comes first." She lifted up, smiled down on him as if he was a shiny new toy, grabbed him by both ears, and snogged him for all she was worth.

She finally broke away and asked, "Can I ravish you too?"

He only managed a strangled gurgle and a vigorous nod.

They hit the sheets running, making splendid use of his potion and a good bit of use out of the healing salve and a few minor healing spells along the way as well. They managed every position that had every entered her lonely thoughts in the dark of the night. She rode him. Then he rode her. Then he took her bent over the chest of drawers. Then she had him bent over the chest of drawers. Then they made their way to the tub, where he licked her clean from head to sensitive toes. She returned the favor. Then they went back into the bed. In the end, no one actually fainted, but they did both slide into unconsciousness rather soon after managing their first simultaneous orgasm. He called her deliciously depraved, and it was the best compliment she'd heard in ages.

When she grabbed a quick shower in the morning, she traced the love bites and slight finger-shaped bruises on her hips. She smiled a secretive little smile. She'd been well and truly shagged, and it was by far the best experience of her life. Which was just as well, since she was fairly sure it probably going to be the only time of her life. After all, Severus was probably still planning on conquering a third of the witches in Britain.

Her smile fell, but only for a moment. She refused to let her emotions get the best of her. If Severus was interested in something more, surely he would have said as much at some point last night. He'd been rather open about his desire to sleep with as many women as possible. No doubt he'd already had a few. She remembered the way the women threw themselves at him at the awards dinner. He was quite the catch. She would have to be content with the fact that he'd not only taken her virginity, but he'd rushed to her rescue as well. And how many of those future women would he steal cars with? She smiled at that memory. Hopefully they could stay friends. She really did enjoy his company.

Severus Snape woke up desperately thirsty, delightfully sore, and smug from knowing that he'd been so decadently used. The woman had even licked his arsehole. He should think about marrying her.

He was smiling. Even the Fates themselves had probably lost track of the last time Severus Snape woke up smiling.

He rolled over to gather her into his arms and found she was gone. He sat up. Her clothes were gone as well. He padded across the floor to the bathroom and found it empty. His hand came up and stroked at the sudden pain in his chest. Right. That's the way of it then. She'd only wanted her virginity taken, and he'd done that six ways to Sunday. He'd been a fool to think, even for a moment, that it might have only been a beginning. Suddenly feeling used didn't carry the same emotions at all.

She'd probably met up with Potter and Weasley and would head to Spinner's End with them. Whatever strain had been placed on that dynamic over the years had obviously been in the process of repairing itself.

Snape gathered up his clothes and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. When he saw the open bottles of shampoo and conditioner, he blasted them with his wand. Bar soap had done just fine for over forty years.

The warm water soothed his torn feelings and logic started to assert itself. The girl had only asked for him to sleep with her. She hadn't intimated that she would be amenable to anything else.

He could easily admit he'd been smitten with the woman. She was pretty much tailor-made for him. She was clever, kind, spirited, beautiful. She didn't seem to understand that she was supposed to think less of him now. That in itself was a rather powerful draw. He would have found that fact attractive even if she'd been ugly. But she wasn't. She was gorgeous - at least he thought so - and once you got her clothes off she was fantastically uninhibited.

Snape looked down when he felt himself start to stir in response to just a few quick sketches of last night's memories. "Give it up, old boy. You're done for this decade, at least." He rinsed himself off in cold water and grabbed a towel.

Despite his stung feelings and dashed hopes he hadn't fully formed, Hermione was still worth having as an acquaintance. There were precious few people in his life that didn't seem to judge him and find him lacking somehow. He would do his best not to lash out at her because his ego was bruised. The attempt should be worth a laugh at any rate.

"Steady on, Snape," he muttered to his blurry reflection in the steamed mirror.

"Say again? I didn't catch that," came a muffled voice.

He wrenched his head around toward the closed door. She was back. She was right there on the other side of the door. He should burst through the door and grab her and never let her go. He shook his wet hair out of his face. No, he should get a grip on himself. The fifteen minutes he'd spent thinking she'd left him were warning enough. He would get hurt. He always did. This woman in particular, could hurt him beyond repair.

"I said: 'I'll be out in a moment.'" he shouted.

"Take your time," she called back through the door. "I went and grabbed us a bit of breakfast; I was starving. I fancied some nice scones, I hope you approve."

Snape didn't respond. He just swiped at the mirror with one hand and scowled at himself before picking up his razor from his kit. He could have easily Vanished the stubble with his wand, but he preferred the Muggle method. It was more meditative and more dangerous. It helped to order his thoughts. It also took longer, and he needed a moment to collect himself before he stepped through that door.

And there you go...