Sorry it took me so long (comparatively) to update! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! You guys really keep me on track! Here's Chapter 21! I hope you enjoy it! If you do, Please Review!

Hermione kept glancing up to the Head Table during breakfast the next morning. A certain Defense Professor was watching the hall like some sort of dark guardian. She wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but somewhere between being forced to sleep with Snape and having him save her life repeatedly, she had developed a strange attraction to the man. She had read before that a woman can develop an emotional bond to a man purely because of the hormones involved in sexual intercourse, but she wasn't sure that was the case here. Part of it was certainly the fact that he was the only one she could turn to, and his presence, therefore, brought her a measure of comfort. But that wasn't all.

Spending time with someone as intellectual as herself was a novel experience for Hermione, and she greatly admired her professor for his intelligence and dedication to the Cause. He was powerful and intense and overwhelming in a way that challenged her to react; to show that she was not afraid. And part of it was just that she had never thought of Professor Snape, the 'Bat of the Dungeons,' the 'Greasy Git,' as anything more than a grumpy teacher. But she had seen a side of him, a tenderness as well as a need, that no one else had seen. And the more she saw, the more she craved.

When her professor swept from the hall a little while later, she found herself compelled to follow him, shouting back to the boys that she would meet them on the Quidditch pitch. "Professor!" she called when she reached the Entrance Hall and saw him heading toward the dungeons. He spun around, his robes billowing around him, and fixed a harsh scowl on his face at the sight of her. But Hermione wasn't discouraged. She knew it was only an act. "I just wanted to tell you," she continued in a lower voice when she was close enough for him to hear, "that I have decided to go along with what you asked." Her professor did not move, nor was there any discernible change in his appearance, but the darkness in his eyes seemed to suddenly overwhelm her. A fire traced across her skin and down her spine and through her core until she felt a familiar tightness low in her belly.

"Very well," he said simply, his voice a deep growl that reverberated deep inside of her. And with that, he left her in a billow of dark robes. She stood there for a moment, frozen in place, her cheeks hot in a pleasant way. When she moved, she had to shake out the sudden stiffness in her joints. And she was deep in thought as she headed to the Quidditch field.

The tryouts were a blur of flying Gryffindors and half-hearted cheers. Harry was still mad at her, so she wanted to make it up to him, but Quidditch had never held any interest for her. Of course she wanted her friends to make the team, but was there really any question of that? Now that Ron had found his confidence, there was no stopping him from stopping the Quaffle. And Ginny was a shoe-in.

When it was all over, the four friends decided to make the best of the beautiful day and head down to the lake. Harry still wasn't making eye contact with her. "Harry," she began finally, "Please don't be this way. I'm really really sorry for yelling at you last night. I've just… had a really rough time and… I just… was upset is all. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." The dark-haired boy considered her for a moment. The fact that she had been right hung in the air between them, but Harry's wounded pride had been assuaged and she knew that he had taken her seriously. There was no need for them to fight. So she watched a small smile spread across the boy's face.

"It's alright, Hermione. I guess I was being a bit of a prat." She smiled back at him, letting her relief out in one swift breath. Then Ron threw an arm over each of their shoulders and they continued down toward the Black Lake. The sun beat down upon them as they stretched out on the grass and for a moment, it was as if everything was right with the world.

A little ways from the Golden Trio, where the lake touched the castle, behind a wall of ivy that draped into the water to hide the dock where the little boats were kept, stood Severus Snape. This was his apparition point; a place that no one ever seemed to remember, despite the fact that all students were brought here on the little boats when they came to the castle their very first year. From his vantage point beside the wall, he could see through the ivy; could watch Potter and his little gang as they frolicked happily beside the water. And there was Granger, sitting closest to him. From here he could see the carefree smile touching her supple lips as Weasley whispered in her ear. It had not occurred to him to doubt her assertion that she did not care for the boy because she didn't seem to have any reason to lie about that. And yet, watching her now, he was not so sure.

Either way, he would have her tonight. Lucius had been insistent that there could be no excuse on a Saturday. "And Severus," he had warned, "It better be good." Oh, it will be, the dark wizard thought. I'll make sure of that. Withdrawing his wand, Severus removed the Disillusionment Charm from the ring on his finger and carved a message into the gold.

Hermione felt a sudden warmth around the second-to-last finger of her right hand and ripped her hand away before remembering the ring. Luckily, the boys were completely oblivious to this blunder and she stealthily withdrew her wand. Holding it in her left hand felt awkward and she suddenly realized why Snape had put his on his left. Hesitantly, she switched her own to the left hand as well, before removing the Disillusionment. 10 PM Tonight, it said and she felt a sudden surge of nervous excitement.

Severus watched the girl's face as she read his message. The alarm was apparent, but it was not alone. A blush tinged her cheeks and a secret smile graced her lips; a smile he had seen before. It sent a pang of longing through his body and Severus had half a mind to call her to his rooms right now. But then Granger was standing, saying something to her friends, and hurrying toward the castle. Hope welled up inside of him before he could suppress it. Was she running to talk to him? Don't be ridiculous. There are a thousand other explanations. And as Severus headed down a passageway so secret that not even the Weasley Twins knew about it, he forced himself to walk slowly. There would be no one waiting for him when he returned to his office.

And yet, after following the trail to where it ended inside his bedroom, and slipping through his chambers to enter his office, he was still a bit disappointed to find that his wards had not been touched. No one had been to see if he was in. Severus quelled the little knot of emotion inside of him with a bout of self-loathing. Miserable fool! Pining after schoolgirls! Pathetic.

And then there was a knock, and he couldn't help the flair of elation in his chest as he sat behind his desk and beckoned for the visitor to enter. Despite himself, he felt another throb of his heart when the face of Hermione Granger appeared in his doorway. Ridiculous fool! "Good afternoon, Miss Granger." She beamed up at him and Severus had to swallow. When was the last time someone looked at him like that?

"Good afternoon, Professor," the girl chimed as she boldly seated herself in the chair before his desk. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I know you're probably busy, but I was wondering if you had an answer for me. About the spell I'm creating." He leaned back in his chair, considering her.

"Very well, Granger. Why don't you show me what you have so far." There was that damnable smile again. She pulled out his Incantation text and some parchment and set her bag aside.

"Well, what I'm hoping to do is create a spell that will point out any books in a room that contain a particular word."

"And how will it do that?" She wrinkled her brow.

"Well… that's what I'm… I mean I know it's possible to create a spell that fills a large space like that…"

"No, Granger. How will this spell mark the books?"

"Oh, well, I'm not really sure, I—"

"You have to know, Granger. You have to be able to picture exactly what is going to happen." She blinked at him. "May I make a suggestion?" She nodded, wide-eyed. "If I were you, I would create a spell that would cause the tip of my wand to glow when it passed a book that contained a particular word. That way, it wouldn't get in everyone else's way if you were in a library doing research—as Merlin knows you always are." She blinked up at him before turning to scribble furiously on her parchment. "Do you have an Incantation chosen?"

"Yes, sir. Quaero Verbum. It means…"

"'I search for a word.' Yes. But it is far more effective when the Incantation is in the form of a command. Can you think of a command that would suit your Intent?" He watched as the girl closed her eyes, her brow wrinkling.

"Like, perhaps 'show me the word'?" she asked. "That is, if I were to ask the books to reveal the word in its context on their spines, or glowing in the air before them? Like a muggle internet search?"

"I think you're onto something, Granger," he praised. She smiled brilliantly up at him.

"How would I say that?"

"Well, that would depend on whether you wish to direct the command to the wand or to the books. Latin commands differ in their singular and plural forms. If you wished to command the books, you would say 'ostendite verbum,' and if you wished to command the wand—which I think may be more suited to your Intent—you would say 'ostende verbum,' which sounds more fluid to me anyway."

"Ostende verbum," she whispered, and he was secretly pleased that she had taken his suggestion without a second thought. "I will have to completely change the wand movements," she added as an afterthought. He smirked at her. Immediately, the large tome flew open as she riffled through the pages, searching for the correct entry. "A spell directed at one's own wand typically requires a little flick," she murmured. "But this one is more complex and has a longer Incantation. Perhaps a steady side-to-side motion? As if in search?" She was not exactly asking him, but he answered anyway.

"You will need to reread that section before you decide. Also, spell creation requires a long period of meditation. Before you can test it, you have to spend a long time blending the Three in your mind. Concentrate on your Intent. Say the words in your mind until they mean the same to you. And imagine the way your wand will move. You can even move your empty hand as if it were your wand, if you find that that aids in your concentration. Do this and return here tomorrow. We will practice then."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione murmured, smiling up at him.

She had begun gathering her things in preparation to leave when Snape cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, I thought we ought to discuss… our plans for tonight." Her eyes grew wide and she sat back down, focusing her attention on her professor as heat spread across the surface of her skin. "I don't want to go in blind, like last time." Hermione turned pink and nodded vehemently. He cleared his throat again, obviously avoiding her gaze. "First of all, you will need to pretend that no one is watching. And also…" he hesitated. "When I was attempting to dissuade Lucius of his request, I—I did so by explaining that I… didn't like it when you were nervous. I… may have… given him the impression… that you are more… responsive… when we are alone."

Hermione blushed as her entire body seemed to tighten around that idea. Heat pulsed from deep inside of her and she nodded bravely, unsure exactly what that would entail. "I have already placed the Charm on a large mirror that hangs above my dresser," he continued. "I can turn it on and off, if you will, at any time. He will be able to see, but not hear. I will attempt not to issue commands, but I might give the illusion of doing so." Hermione nodded, not wanting to trust her voice. The last thing she needed was for him to know how his words were affecting her. "Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir," she managed.

"Good. Then I will call you at ten. Make sure you are alone."

"I will," she assured him as she stood to leave.

"And Granger?" he called back before she reached the door. She turned to look at him and his eyes were dark with intensity. His velvet baritone resonated low inside of her, stirring the fire within. "Wear that nightgown."

Severus paced the length of his room again; his robes still billowing around him. Should I undress? he wondered. The girl would be in a nightgown; he needn't bare himself entirely. But he probably shouldn't have his robes on, either. He removed the black garment and studied his reflection in the mirror. And then he decided to absolutely avoid looking at the mirror at all costs. Granger must be completely repulsed by me. What am I thinking? He paused a minute before removing his frock coat and dragon-hide boots.

A glance at the clock on the wall told Severus that it was nearly ten. Oh, Merlin. Anxiety warred with excitement and Severus wasn't sure which emotion was stronger. Breathe, he told himself. Closing his eyes, he thought of the way the girl had smiled at him today—vivid, happy, sincere. She might not be keen on sleeping with him—yet, he clarified with a smirk—but somehow she had grown to like him. It was a strange concept, to be sure, but Severus was certain that it was, nevertheless, true. He turned toward the clock. Five minutes. A knot of anticipation tightened in his throat as he climbed onto the bed, sitting against the headboard and leaning against his knees. Should I pull down the duvet? He waited a moment before deciding that that would indeed be better, and removed the heavy coverlet before returning to his place against the pillows. Two minutes.

At precisely 10 o'clock PM, Severus activated the Charm on the mirror and brought the tip of his wand to the skin of his left arm.

Hermione had been shut away inside her four-poster bed for ten minutes, feeling rather foolish as she sat against the headboard in her flimsy nightgown. 9:58. Suddenly the anxious nervousness she had been suppressing flooded Hermione's senses. Oh, Merlin. She wasn't even worried about Lucius Malfoy watching through a mirror. After everything she had been through, that was nothing. But the thought of him touching her again sent shivers down her spine. Oh, gods. Over everything else, she just didn't want to make a fool of herself. She wanted to please him.

9:59. Oh dear bloody sodding Merlin. Any minute now. She watched as the seconds on the clock ticked away, conscious of the fact that her clock could easily be set differently from his. The second hand inched closer and closer to the twelve. Three, two, one… And then it was past, heading toward the five. And she felt her stomach drop in disappointment just in time for the familiar tug to yank her from her four-poster.

When she landed—with a squeal—she was in the same position she had been, sitting on a mattress. An extra set of legs stretched out on either side of her. And her pulse began to race as an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back against him. Oh, Merlin. This was Professor Snape; a powerful wizard; a man with a dark past; a brilliant Potions Master. And there was so much more to him that he would probably never share with her. But at the moment, she was the focus of his attention.

"Very good, Miss Granger," he purred. Her heart leapt in her chest and her blood stirred with a carnal fire that she had never known before this man. His right hand splayed across her stomach as the other came up to clutch her chin. He gently turned her face towards him, forcing her eyes to meet his. Those intense, black eyes.

Severus was unsure where to start. Her mere presence between his legs was enough to make him strain against the fabric of his trousers. He lifted her face to his, looking down into her worried, cinnamon eyes. She didn't know what to do. But she trusted him to do it. A surge of possessiveness swept over him; primal; hungry. Mine, he thought. And technically, that was true. She was his. Slowly, the hand cupping her cheek swept down her pale neck; the neck of a swan. He paused to run a thumb over her pulse, reveling in the trust she showed to allow his hand to circle her throat.

Then his hand drifted further south, running along the exposed collarbone with a gentle touch before dipping to cover her breast. He bit back a groan. Though he had fondled her before, he had never had the chance to enjoy it. Now, as he cupped her through the sheer material, he watched her face lose concentration. Those eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted slightly. He throbbed painfully as he resisted the urge to roll over on top of her and press her hard into the sheets.

As her professor's hand massaged her breast, Hermione felt a thrum of heady energy pulsing through her body. He likes the way I feel. Snape pinched her nipple and she cried out in shock and pleasure. The electric twinge it brought about was echoed between her legs. Then his other hand was travelling down, brushing over that sensitive place, across the folds of her nightgown, and down her legs. He reached the hem of the garment and pressed his palm to the hot surface of her skin.

Severus molded his hand to the girl's sweet thigh, reveling in the sensation of smooth skin beneath his fingers. Slowly, teasingly, he pulled his hand up toward the junction of her legs. His fingers snaked down between her thighs to caress the tender skin he found there. She opened her legs wider for him, forcing a groan from his lips as he teased the seams of her little panties.

She could feel his fingers sliding along the edge of the garment that separated them. It all seemed so completely forbidden; so deliciously wicked. She knew that he wanted to touch her there as much as she wanted him to. And as he slipped one forefinger past the boundary of her simple, cotton panties, she couldn't suppress a whimper of need. The fire inside of her was nearly unbearable and she could feel her professor's erection pressing into her back.

His control was fighting him every step of the way as Severus traced the crease between her folds. Her little moan of pleasure was practically his undoing, but he was satisfied to merely grip her tighter and press his lips against her ear. He eased his way inside, running the length of her wet entrance before teasing the little nub he found hidden there. "Ohh!" she cried and he growled into her ear. Then his thumb continued to brush against her there as his fingers travelled south. Gently, carefully, he eased one inside of her. "Ohhhh!" she cried. "Oh, Merlin, Professor!" And it was all he could do to remain as he was and not take her then and there.

He was making love to her with his hands. The soft, intimate pressure of his touch coiled knots of fire deep inside of her. But his rhythm was too slow; teasing her. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Hermione grabbed his hand and began to move against him, pressing her body against his fingers.

When the chit began to buck beneath him, Severus couldn't stand it anymore. In one swift move, he flipped them over so that he was crushing her into the mattress, his fingers still sliding in and out of her. Her cry of surprise became a throaty moan as he pressed against her. Severus lifted her nightgown above her waist, bringing a hand to her pretty arse and pressing hard against her. Through his trousers, his member nestled between her cheeks as he thrust against her. His mouth came to her neck and he brushed against the tender skin there, tasting the salt of her sweat.

"Please Professor," she cried. His weight was crushing her into the mattress and it made a heavy ache form between her legs. And she knew only he could relieve her. He pulled away from her just then and she turned to see him sitting against the headboard, panting.

"Come," he beckoned. It was a command, but she grinned as she complied, straddling his lap and looking into those dark eyes. He was so close. She could see into the inky blackness, where there was fire. This man, she thought. This man is incredible. And he wants you. She groaned and moved against him, seeking to relieve that ache he had created. His hands came up to grasp her hips and he slowly lifted the nightgown over her head.

She was a wild temptress in his mind. That wild mane of hair, her cinnamon eyes shining with fire, swollen lips parted in desperation, her complexion flushed. His eyes raked over her body and her passion only grew as she watched him. Severus sunk down against the bed, reaching up to grasp her pert breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. She threw her head back in a primal moan and Severus could feel himself pulsing with need. In one sweep of his hand, her panties were gone and he had his first glimpse of her shyness.

Hermione felt so exposed sitting astride her professor completely nude while he was still fully dressed. Inspired, she boldly snuck her hands down to his shirt and began to unbutton it. He allowed it, his eyes pressing closed against his need. Slowly, slowly she bared his torso to her eyes.

It was only fair, he supposed, that he should undress too. But he felt so vulnerable, allowing her to scrutinize his scarred and imperfect flesh. But when his eyes met hers, he saw only desire, and his hands came up to twist in those curls, unconsciously pulling her down to him.

He was pulling her down and she watched his mouth as she drew nearer. Does he want to kiss me? Hermione wasn't sure. But then his hands were gone from her hair and he sat up to press his torso against hers. Her nipples brushed against the thin, dark hairs of his chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands were tracing circles on her back and their faces seemed to hang in suspended animation inches away from each other. Her mind was made up and she looked into his eyes, showing him her resolve as she inched toward him.

And suddenly her mouth was on his. And his lips were a lot softer than she had imagined. And he groaned deep in his throat, wrapping a hand in her hair and pressing ardently against her. Their lips brushed and slid over each other in a tantalizing dance that left her breathless for what was to come. When his tongue teased her lip, she opened her mouth to admit him, meeting his with her own soft tongue.

Severus groaned. Her mouth was so sweet and so soft. He wanted to devour her completely until he was satiated. But he knew he never would be. Not when there was more of this to be had. And that was fine. He slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, caressing her, as she began to move against him once more. His hand snaked down between them, unbuttoning his trousers and she gasped in apparent arousal.

When he was naked, the girl further surprised him by positioning herself so that his hard length pressed between her folds. She leaned over him, pressing against him with growing enthusiasm as his hands travelled across the surface of her skin.

Hermione had never felt anything like this. She was compelled to move against him, unashamed of this animal side of her that was bursting forth. Her professor seemed to like it, and that was really all that mattered. The soft head of his stone-hard member was sliding against the little nub between her folds in just the right way and she panted as she rocked her body against his. A pressure was mounting inside of her with a fiery shock of electricity that gave her glimpses of the pleasure to come. For too long she had wanted this. Too long she had cared about this man; admired him; desired him. And now she was aware of just what that desire was.

She caught his gaze, latching onto those dark orbs as he watched her. Then, his hands gripped her thighs and he thrust up against her. The movement so shocked and aroused her that she felt herself rising to the brink of this sensation. Her movements became quick and erratic and her hand came up to brush his jaw as she locked her watering eyes onto his and breached the cusp of the pressure inside of her. A wave of powerful pleasure crashed over her and she cried out with wanton abandon as surge after surge of intense sensation pulsed through her until even her toes were trembling with the strength of her release. And as tears traced down her cheeks, she pressed her lips passionately against his.

It took all of Severus's control to wait for the waves of her orgasm to cease before rolling them over. He held her mouth hostage as they flipped, capturing her lips, pressing harder and deeper. And she allowed him with a moan. As he rubbed the tip of his aching cock between her folds, she gasped against him, tears rolling down her face. "Oh, yes, Professor!" she moaned desperately, rising to meet him eagerly. He didn't need any more encouragement. Pressing against her opening, he sheathed himself entirely inside of her with a deep groan of intense pleasure.

He was beyond his own control, but she was writhing beneath him in agonized ecstasy and he found himself pressing harder and deeper inside of her. When her legs came up to wrap around his waist, he snapped. Wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her hair he pounded into her a few swift times before bursting inside of her, the tightness within him exploding in a fit of intense release as he pressed his mouth against the soft skin where her neck became her shoulder, muffling a coarse, irrepressible groan. Her arms came up around him as he panted against her neck and she pressed wet kisses to his forehead in a gesture of affection. He pulled himself up and met her eyes before brushing his lips against hers once again. And the soft wetness of their lovemaking made their kiss all the sweeter. Severus pulled away, brushing his mouth against her chest and each of her breasts before moving off of her.

Hermione couldn't stop the tears. The other times, tears had been ripped from her by force. But this time, the tears were beautiful, like a light shower after a storm. They seemed to wring the last bit of tension and anxiety from her body, leaving her sated and exhausted. When her professor pulled away, Hermione felt the loss, but did not feel an absence. He was there beside her, and they had just made love. She turned onto her side, smiling at Snape's profile as he panted toward the ceiling. When his face turned to hers, she could not read his expression. But something told her that beneath the layer of pretend, she mattered to him.

And she couldn't have asked for anything more.

:}

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