Hermione tracked his movement with her eyes as he kneeled before her. She was having difficulty breathing, and she had absolutely no idea how to respond to what he was saying - or what he was about to do. She was out of her depth - completely in over her head - and for some reason she couldn't comprehend, she was fine with it. Things were well out of control - she knew she should be worried, maybe even afraid, but she couldn't quite focus enough to allow those feelings to surface.

She suspected he was using Occlumency, despite what he'd said; Severus Snape was a liar. A very, very convincing liar. He'd been lying to two masters long before she was born. She couldn't imagine his composure was genuine, when the potion she'd consumed made it feel like someone cast Fiendfyre on her blood.

She didn't know she could derive so much pleasure while pleasuring someone else.

Hell, she didn't know she could derive so much pleasure from anything.

Looking down at the man who had just licked her through her panties, she wondered if she'd ever felt anything more wonderful. The gentle tickle of long, dexterous fingers against her legs as he peeled silver lace down to pool around her ankles made her shiver.

"Severus," she whispered, as he used his fingers to gently part her folds.

"Sir," he corrected in a whisper, and leaned forward to lick her again. Her knees buckled.

He shook his head, stood, and steadied her. "I believe a change of venue is in order," he said, tilting her head back and kissing her gently, slowly. For all the ferocity and fire in his dark eyes, she would have expected something more … savage. Yet all his kisses had been subdued. Absolutely splendid, but subdued.

She wondered why he was holding back. She knew how powerful a wizard he was - she'd seen evidence enough of that with her own eyes. She'd never seen anyone cast wordless, wandless magic as effortlessly and powerfully as he did. It was addictive. Much more addictive than anything he sold in that house.

When they both had to come up for air, she stepped back, shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs, blinking a few times to try and expel the haze. There were questions to ask him that she couldn't quite wrap her brain around when he was in such close proximity. She took a deep breath and made her way back to the settee, eyeing the long length of him, his trousers hanging unfastened and low on his hips. She licked her lips at the sight of his belt, knowing she was the one that unbuckled it and snatched her drink from the table and took a sip - she wasn't even a full halfway through it yet.

She watched him watching her as she brought the glass to her lips and the corner of his mouth quirked up in an infuriatingly smug smirk. "Have I exhausted you completely already, Miss Granger?" He lowered himself to his chair.

"Everything feels so… overwhelming. I'm just catching my breath. I thought I was going to faint when you … well."

"I have scarcely touched you - I do hope you won't faint this early into our evening. I have a mental itinerary - there are many, many parts of you that I will have my hands on this evening."

He watched her, eyes glittering in the dim gas lights, before taking another sip of his drink. "And, of course, I intend to fuck you through my bedsheets later, and I will be very put out if you impede my ability to do so."

She didn't even say anything. What did one say to that? She just watched him, her breathing shallow, her eyes glazed over. "How the hell are you this calm?" she sputtered. "How are you this coherent? I can't seem to focus on anything, and yet you're still and articulate… there's no way you're not Occluding. Or there was nothing in your drink at all. You're a very convincing liar, and you were a spy," she huffed.

"I am most assuredly a very convincing liar. As far as you know, Miss Granger, I am still a spy," he said almost dismissively, tilting his head, his voice a silky, low resonance that seemed to echo around the room.

"However, I am not Occluding. The ingredients in this potion - I have been consuming them in their pure forms for decades. As I have never consumed this brew before this evening, I was unaware of the effects it would - or would not have on me."

"Well, that simply isn't fair," Hermione protested.

He shrugged and took a moment before he pulled out his wand; he began drawing runes - calculations - in the air in front of him. Hermione had no idea he knew any Arithmancy at all, though she wasn't surprised that he did.

"What are you doing?"

"I am calculating my weight, tolerance and the time it should take for the potion to enter my bloodstream."

She made her way over to him, watching his calculations develop, and she couldn't help herself when she shook her head at one of the runes he drew. He lifted an eyebrow and met her eyes. "Am I doing something incorrectly, Mistress Granger?" he challenged.

"Actually, yes. I'll get my wand and -" she was abruptly stopped when he reached out, grabbed her wrist and deposited his ebony wand - as dark as his eyes - in her palm. She just looked at him - using another wizard's wand was a very, very intimate thing. A wand was a wizards most prized possession - it was an extension of themselves, and to hand it over to another - especially a wizard as powerful as Severus Snape - required a level of trust that she didn't know he was capable of.

His fingertips traced along hers as he dropped his hand back to his lap; she swallowed and wrapped her fingers around the still-warm hilt and watched his eyes darken, causing her stomach to do a flip-flop. She'd consumed more of her drink, therefore more of her potion and she was finding it very difficult to keep her hands to herself.

After a moment, she flicked her wrist to strip his matrix to the bare bones and cast her own atop his. The second her magic filtered through his wand; all the air was dragged from her lungs. And for as calm as Snape had appeared all night, he let out a low growl that made Hermione want to both back away and lean in closer.

She'd never felt so much power in her life. Was this what it was like to be Severus Snape? Or, at least, a taste of what it was like? When she finally caught her breath, she looked completely mystified. "Wha -".

"Affinity, Miss Granger. Cast your calculations. Now. Before I am unable to keep my seat."

She nodded and flicked her wrist a few more times, every moment her magic passed through the Celtic engraved, inky colored wood, she stuttered in a breath. It wasn't just the power of the wand, it was the remnants of the different kinds of magic.

There was an undercurrent of Dark magic that made her sure she didn't want to cast a Prior Incantato and find out what the hell he'd been doing before she arrived, though she had to admit the pull add to that Darkness was tempting. She met his eyes again, and she knew he knew what she was thinking.

"Do not ask questions you do not want the answers to, Miss Granger," he whispered dangerously. He inclined his head to her matrix. "What do your calculations reveal?"

She took a few calming breaths before speaking. "The potion is already in your bloodstream; however, your tolerance is high and you are resisting the effects without knowing it. I calculate that you would need to take, at least, another 8 - 10 drops to catch up to me," whispered, her mouth dry.

He said nothing, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass on the table to his right, when Hermione got close enough to hand him back his wand. "What - just how fucking powerful are you Severus?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "How does one measure such a thing?"

She didn't have the answer, but she'd like to find one. "And you keep talking about our affinity - what does that mean - does this happen to everyone? How does this even work? And how did you find out about it? Never mind that last question, you know everything," she said rambling.

Snape watched her amused. "Perhaps you should sit down and finish your drink, Miss Granger." She did as he suggested because she couldn't think of a reason not to.

He stood pacing, and when he began to speak, it was like he was lecturing in his Potions classroom again.

"An affinity not necessarily rare, but they are often, unintentionally, ignored. The weaker the affinity, the easier it is to miss. Depending on the … compatibility of the two wizards, the feeling of that current can be almost impossibly strong." He turned a look on her, and she didn't need to ask what he was thinking - she'd never even known about affinities before that evening, but she understood it quite well now. In intimate detail.

"I assume, by your reaction to ours, you have not noticed a connection before."

"Have you?" she asked, shaking her head, unsure why part of her didn't want to know.

"Yes. Twice before. Once with Lily Evans, and once with a woman I had a relationship with shortly after the war."

Hermione's heart clenched at the mention of Lily Evans. They all knew the story by now - hell - if they hadn't, Rita Skeeter had made damn sure of it when she wrote her biography about Snape.

"The affinity I felt with Celeste was strong enough that it drew my attention to her, though I did not notice it until I was very near her. Lily and I… looking back, it was not very strong."

Hermione swallowed and nodded her head. "And us?" she asked, hopeful.

"I was in a completely different area of the dining hall when I felt it. I thought I was being attacked. I have never felt anything like it before. Our magics - we - are very, very… unanimous."

"Oh," she whispered.

"Yes. Oh." he said dryly.

Hermione finished her drink and then sat on her hands, lest she lunge herself at him. Severus seemed to know what she was thinking, for he walked back to the stoppered vial of potion, uncorked it, and swallowed back whatever was left. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Were there more than ten drops left in there?" she asked, a little panicked.

"Considerably more," he answered, and sat beside her. "I have consumed more of that potion, because I agree that it is unfair to not feel the effects of it while you do." He turned to face her, using his hand to brush the hair back from her shoulder, and leaning in to murmur in her ear. "Though it is completely unnecessary. I wanted you in my bed three weeks ago."

She lifted her eyes to his, and that was about all she had time to do. His mouth was on hers so quickly, that she had to grab onto his upper arms to keep from falling over. "Lie back," he rumbled against her lips.

He'd told her to lay back, but the one second hesitation was, apparently, too long, and his palm flattened against her chest and shoved her backwards. His mouth was at her ear in an instant.

"Well, I tell you to do something, Miss Granger, you will do it, or I will make you. Do you understand?" he hissed, and somewhere, in the back of her mind, was a flashing neon sign saying Death Eater. Of course, she believed he would do exactly that. And it thrilled her.

She closed her eyes and whimpered. "Yes, sir," she answered, and she felt the weight of him above her. While the settee was long enough that her smaller frame could lie back without any part of her hanging off the end or sides, the case was not the same for Severus.

He stood, grabbed her by the hips and dragged her to the end, settling against her, and Hermione automatically opened her legs, her knees at his hips; when he moved into the space between her thighs, and ground himself against her naked sex, and she damn near levitated of the chaise lounge.

"Fuck," she groaned, and he was leaning over her again, his mouth on hers, though all the languor and sweetness from earlier in the evening had vanished.

"Not yet, Miss Granger," he growled against her mouth, before tunneling his hands in her hair, using it to leverage her head back, his mouth at her throat, biting hard enough to leave a purple bruise as evidence of his presence.

His mouth and lips and teeth were everywhere, always just painful enough to elicit a shocked gasp from her lips, only to have him lathe it over with his tongue, her already weak protest morphing into a broken whimper in the air.

His teeth grazed her nipple, biting down enough that she jumped, then sucking it into his mouth, applying sucking pressure while his tongue circled the crinkled bud. He kissed his way down her body, lips and tongue caressing the sensitive underside of her breasts, even while his hands, locked on her hips bruisingly, held her in place.

He nibbled and kissed his way across her ribs, down her stomach, dipping his tongue in her navel, tracing down further, beneath her garter belt, until he reached the top of her mound. He bit the inside of her thigh and she knew there would be indentations of his teeth there for weeks.

And then he continued right past where she wanted him.

"What -"

"Silence!" he hissed, and she bit the inside of her cheek to obey. She felt like clawing at her skin, craving the friction between her legs that he would not grant her. Knowing fingers carefully released the clasp holding her stockings to her garter belt, and oh-so gently, rolled them down her legs, pausing to look up across her body.

"There are few things more seductive than a peek of the seam of Cuban stockings, Miss Granger," he purred. "I very much do approve. Lift your hips," he said, and Hermione did as she was told; he reached behind her back and released the clasps for her garter belt, removing it and setting it aside.

And then he lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders and leaned forward, his breath escaping him, before he licked her completely open.

"Delicious," he murmured, and then Hermione really felt what it was like to have Severus Snape's full attention on her.

Long, dexterous fingers parted her folds, and the moment his tongue touched her clitoris, she came undone. That was it. No other stimulation necessary. And it was while she was moaning on the verge of tears, that he speared his tongue into her opening and fucked her while she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

And yet he wasn't finished.

For as savage as he'd been, he took his time gathering the tempest again. His mouth was gentle - sucking on her folds, delaying direct contact with that bundle of nerves that seemed to be vibrating, dipping his fingers inside, pressing against her inner walls torturously slow. His flattened tongue finally grazed against her clitoris and her whimper sounded very close to crying to her ears.

He'd heard it, too, for he looked up the length of her body and locked eyes with her, smirking and then, all while keeping eye contact, dipped his head and did it again.

This time, the build was much, much slower.

Fingers parted her, and slow, feather-light touches made her impatient, so she lifted her hips as much as she could from her position and Severus, obviously not intending to be rushed, bit the inside of her thigh in warning. The other thigh. Now she'd have a matching set.

"Do that again, and I shall tie you down," he threatened darkly.

The tip of his tongue quickly flicked the underside of her clit before covering her mound with his mouth, applying light pressure, and Hermione rolled her hips again.

He growled, stood, yanked her into a standing position and threw her over his shoulder. Then he was crossing the room in long strides to a door she'd not noticed initially and threw her down on a bed that she would examine in great detail at a later time.

"I warned you, Miss Granger. You shall not rush me while I consume my dessert," he hissed.

He approached his closet, stepping out of his trousers on the way, and, after a moment, returned with, Hermione realized, what could only be two of his cravats. "Perhaps I will unbind you later. If you behave," he hummed.

One wrist, then the other was tightly secured to a bedpost; she could only assume he derived pleasure from the act of tying the knots against her skin, for it would have taken almost no effort to do so magically.

He dropped a quick kiss to her lips, and then he disappeared between her legs again, a curtain of raven blue-black tickling her inner thighs, the obscene sound of his suckling mingled with the raspy moans that escaped their prison from behind her teeth were deafeningly loud, echoing off the walls, erratically punctuated by a deep, sinful moan from Severus' throat.

He was still teasing, and she was about to explode. He knew it. She knew he did. She was dripping for him - his chin had been glistening in the dim lights, and she could taste herself on his lips when he'd kissed her.

She couldn't take it anymore.

"Sev- - sir, let me come. Just… lick me harder…"

He lifted his head. "Are you telling me what to do, Miss Granger?" he asked dangerously.

She looked him in the eye. "Please," was all she could whisper.

"Hmm," he said, sitting back, and Hermione whined her aggravation. "I did say I would teach you how to beg for me, did I not?"

"Please," she said again, as the contact of his mouth against her body was absent, and all she could think was that she wanted to come on his tongue.

"Close," he allowed. He smiled darkly, "Miss Granger, repeat after me: please sir, use your mouth on me and let me come."

As mindless as Hermione was, if he told her to recite the Hogwarts: A History in Goblin, she'd do it. And she didn't speak Goblin.

"Please sir - please. Please use your mouth on me and please let me come."

He tilted his head, eyes raking over her. "Again," he demanded. "Louder."

"Please sir, use your mouth on me and let me come," she cried, and she knew she was close to tears.

He licked his lips. "Again," he said, grinning.

"Fuck," she screamed, trying to lift her hips higher even though she knew it was a futile attempt. "Please fuck me with your tongue, sir," she bit out, still screaming in frustration. "Please let me come on your tongue, sir. Please. Please. I'm begging you, sir. Please!"

"Perfect," he crooned. His eyes dark as pitch - he looked possessed as he lowered his mouth to her again. It didn't take long.

He curled his tongue around her bundle of nerves and thrust two fingers in her channel, forgoing any gentleness, curling his them against her front walls, and in less than a minute, her hands were balled into fists, straining against her restraints, and came apart. And before she had the time to come down from her high, he flicked his fingers, releasing her wrists, lowered her hips to his waist level and impaled her with his cock.

The explosion of magic in the room was enough to topple the wardrobe, knock the paintings from the walls, send the armoire flying across the room, shatter the mirror above the vanity - but Severus never broke stride. He dropped forward on his elbows and slammed into her over and over and over, and Hermione had difficulty focusing, her senses accosted from every direction.

The bruising snap of his hips against hers, stinging and brutal. The rub of his cock violently driving into her at a maddening pace, rubbing against her inner walls, her nub stimulated by the coarse hair grazing her with every shift forward.

And his mouth. She'd never been kissed in such a way. He was claiming her, and she knew it. She could feel it. Regardless of how the night ended - if she never saw him again after this evening - her mind and body and magic would never return to the state it was before Severus Snape literally sunk his teeth in her.

She bit at his lip hard; he hissed and lifted himself up on his elbows, and, somehow, fucked her harder, deeper. She dragged her nails down his back and knew there would be bloody lines awaiting him on the other side of their frantic coming together. He growled so deep and low that he sounded like a wild animal. He looked like one, too.

His hair was matted to his forehead, his lips curled in a sneer as he started down at her, his eyes wild and untamed. He grabbed her wrists and squeezed tightly, pinning her hands beside her head. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he demanded, and when she did, he quickened his pace; her eyes rolled back in her head.

His lips lowered to her ear, demanding - his tone brokered no argument. "You are going to explode for me," he hissed. "I can feel you squeezing me," he crooned. "I am going to spill my seed deep inside you, Miss Granger. And what will you say when I do?"

Hermione had no brain cells left for coherent thought, let alone the ability to speak in sentences. After a moment, when she hadn't answered, he dipped his head down and bit her - hard - right at the spot where her shoulder met her throat; she would be covered in such bites and bruises by the time he was finished. "What," he said when he lifted his head, "will you say to me?"

"Thank you!" she screamed, the cruel snap of his hips causing him to brush against her cervix. She was crying now, the tears rolling freely across her temples; she was in sensory overload, and her body had long stopped trying to process every emotion and feeling firing through her body.

"Please let me come, sir - please!" she screamed, mindless, and Severus looked pleased that she'd begged him so nicely.

"I think you had better," he allowed, and Hermione's back arched off the bed enough, that Severus wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest while he continued to pump into her, finally - finally - spilling himself inside her as the aftershocks of her orgasm drained the last of her energy.

He set her down gently, leaning on his elbows, head hanging between his shoulders, inky black hair hiding his face.

Hermione reached up to tuck one side behind his ear, and cupped his face, bringing his mouth to her in a soft, lazy kiss. "Thank you, sir," she whispered against his lips, and she felt the curve of a smile.

When they finally broke apart, Severus gently removed himself from her body, and Hermione winced - they would both have to take inventory of their barbarically placed markings later.

Severus rolled over on his back, his arm sliding beneath her tiny waist and dragging her close to him. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his slowing heartbeat, his hand stroked her hair. Hermione sighed.

After a few moments of silence, Hermione's brain planted a question that she wanted to ask but wasn't sure she really wanted an answer to. She lifted her head to look into his eyes.

"Have you ever -"

"No, little witch. I have never," he said laying his head back on his pillow. She snuggled in closer, her left leg draping across his right thigh, and before either of them knew it, the exhaustion of their bodies lulled them to sleep.