Severus was, in a word, terrified.

On a semi-regular basis, for the better part of a decade, he'd stared Tom Riddle in the eyes and lied through his teeth and hadn't so much as flinched in the face of his mission. And yet, the woman currently sharing his pillow, her face turned toward him, giving him an unexpected opportunity to take in her delicate features uninhibited, had managed a full and complete upheaval of his life in only a few short hours.

He wasn't afraid of much. Despite his faux humble deflection earlier, Severus knew how powerful he was. The fact that there hadn't been a war in over a decade hadn't dulled any of Severus' survival skills, which is why it was alarming, to say the least, how easily she was able to disarm him.

He sat up, shifting his lean frame against the headboard, and watched her sleeping, the gentle, steady rhythm of her breath, the soft rise and fall of her chest. The potion was well out of their systems now, and he wondered what would happen when she awoke. Whether or not she would regret what they'd done under the influence of his concoction. He'd nothing to do but wait for the moment.

Severus had perfected the art of sitting perfectly still, for hours, if need be. In fact, he'd done so in the past many times - whether he was trying to remain out of the Dark Lord's focus for the evening, or it was left-over instinct from when he was child - he'd learned early on not to fidget, or otherwise draw the attention of his father - he wasn't sure, but it was something that came natural to him.

So it was no hardship for him to take in the dainty upturn of her nose, the bridge of which was peppered liberally with freckles. The dark smudges of her eyelashes lain gently against her pale cheeks, eyes moving rapidly behind lily-soft eyelids. As he had before, at the conference, he found himself incapable of refraining from tucking a stray coil of warm amber behind her ear; she stirred, but did not wake.

He'd not been lying to Hermione when he'd told her he didn't need the potion to want to bury himself inside her. The feeling had been nearly crushing under its weight, and even now, he could feel their affinity itching beneath his skin. He wasn't exactly sure how an affinity could be so strong, or how it could affect him so strongly. His research hadn't turned up much, even sifting through some of his old Dark texts.

He knew that, for as common as they were, something this strong was beyond rare. He'd fostered no new feelings of love, only desire, but the rumbling, ever present in the back of his mind these days, warned him that there could be. Which was the terrifying part.

Less than a month previous, Severus had been content to fuck whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with absolutely no strings attached unless he attached them. Recently, his appetites had changed, focused at almost an obsessive degree, on the petite witch laying beside him.

Even in the dark, during both wars, when he'd lured and seduced women to his bed with promises of power and acknowledgement from the Dark Lord and his followers, he'd never taken them to his bed. The very thought repulsed him, and yet, looking down at a stirring Hermione Granger, he only wanted to pull her closer. The very thought was astounding to him, but as she blinked her cognac colored eyes open, he couldn't find himself bothered any longer.

Not that he wasn't still aware of the niggling feeling, just that he was happily preoccupied with the gloriously bare witch who was now raising herself to a sitting position, his bed sheets falling to her waist, drawing his eyes to the perfectly sized breasts before him.

He reached out to trace the line of her jaw with the back of his index and middle fingers, curling under her chin so that she was looking directly at him.

"Welcome back," he rumbled, and, to his surprise, her eyes darkened. He didn't need Legilimency to understand that reaction. A soft pink rose to her cheeks and drifted downwards, though his eyes did not follow it.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, blinking away the haze of sleep from her eyes. With no outward show of effort, he cast Tempus over her shoulder.

"Two and a half hours," he said, tilting his head curiously. "How do you feel?"

She laughed before answering. "Sore."

"And will that be a hindrance to further activities this evening?" he asked, his hand sliding to her throat, long fingers resting just below her hair line, his thumb resting on the pulse point below her jaw.

"No, I don't believe it will be," she whispered, and the corner of his mouth twitched, obviously quite pleased with her answer.

He urged her toward him with pressure at the back of her neck, and leaned forward to meet her halfway. His lips met hers, deceptively soft, building like a low fire, his tongue painting the crease of her lips and dipping inside when she opened her mouth to invite him in. As his tongue massaged hers, it was a natural movement for her to move up to her knees and straddle his lap, the stirrings of an erection pressed against her bum.

She rose up on her knees, tight at his hips and cupped his face, while his free hand stroked his shaft and positioned himself at her entrance. She sank down slowly, Severus' hands resting on her hips, tightening painfully, though he didn't rush her. When she'd finally taken him completely, her head dipped, resting on his shoulder, and Severus' suddenly insistent hands had him lifting her hips again, his demand for her to move as clear as if he'd spoken the words aloud.

She rose up again, this time, there was no delay before she lowered herself again, a slow, steady rhythm being set with the guidance of long fingers.

"I don't want this to stop," she whimpered against his lips, he hummed his eyes were open, watching each other, and Severus was curious what she would see there.

Currently, he was watching every emotion that played across her face - bloody Gryffindors - and he was quite pleased to see unabashed exhilaration looking back at him; his hips jerked up in response, his arms snaking beneath her arms so that his hands rested on her shoulders, using the leverage to draw her down while he lifted his hips.

Hermione's head dropped back, exposing the fine, pale line of her throat, and Severus' mouth was on it in an instant. There were already marks in various different shades of red peppered against her skin, and he felt no compunction about adding another.

He felt her nails dragging down his back, criss crossing the marks she'd made earlier in the evening, and quick as a viper, Hermione was on her back with Sererus pounding into her at a frantic pace.

Hermione's orgasm came as a surprise to both of them apparently, her back arching off the bed, her legs locking around his waist. His hands wrapped around her upper arms, pinning her to the bed as he pistoned in and out of her body, he head thrown back with a deep growl when he finally emptied himself inside her.

He had the presence of mind to roll from over her to lie on his back, and to his surprise, Hermione sat up on her knees to drop a kiss to his lips before sprawling herself halfway across his body.

"Are you quite comfortable?" he purred, and lifted an eyebrow at her answering laugh.

"Very much so, thank you," she answered.

"I will tolerate none of your cheek, Miss Granger," he rumbled, his hand smoothing her hair back from her face.

She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him and had the temerity to flash him a smile. "I don't think this is the potion anymore, Severus," she said thoughtfully.

"Really?" he drawled. "I had not noticed."

She laughed again, shaking her head. "And I used to think you didn't have a sense of humor."

"I can guarantee you there are many people that would not believe you, were you to tell them thus," he answered.

Hermione chuckled and stood and stretched on her tiptoes, and Serus watched as she took a slow tour around the room. She stopped at one of the oil paintings, and she applied the same studious curiosity that he'd witnessed many, many times before. No doubt she would start her incessant questions. He decided to stop that before it began.

"If you begin your unceasing chattering, I will give you something to fill your mouth," he said, sitting up. She looked over her shoulder at him and laughed.

"It wouldn't be the first time this evening."

"It will not be the last, either," he promised darkly, his voice drizzling down her spine like chocolate.

"You're a dominant?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere, causing Severus' eyebrows to shoot up.

"No, I am not," he answered after a beat. "And before you ask, it is because I have never wished to enter that type of relationship with anyone. My personality is very much aligned with the sexual proclivities typically associated with those kinds of relationships, but I do not wish for someone to refer to me as 'master'. Having served at the boot of two of them in my lifetime, I am sure you can understand."

She turned to look at him, making her way back towards the bed, fingers tracing along one of the two deep cherry oak columns that made up the foot of the canopy bed, the headboard attached to the wall behind it.

"I can," she answered, though he imagined she only thought she did.

"Why? Is that something that intrigues you, Miss Granger?" he teased, his arms crossed at his chest, looking down his nose at her. "You do not seem to possess the … natural inclination for such a thing."

"Are you saying I'm a delinquent, Severus?" she asked laughing.

"In my experience, you and your cohorts were incapable of following the rules or doing as you were told, even in the most dangerous of situations. I may extend an invitation to you after all. Perhaps a little … discipline would have done you some good. It is never too late to begin, I suppose."

"Oh, are you to spank me, Severus? I'm sorry. Sir," she said, teasing.

"Cheek, again, Miss Granger," he said, stalking towards her, backing her up against the wall behind her.

He loomed over her like a dark shadow, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk when he saw her lick her lips. He dipped his mouth down to her ear and rumbled a question against her skin, raising goosebumps up and down her arms.

"Shall I take you over my knee? Hmm?" His tongue traced along the shell of her ear; she shivered. "I have taught you how to beg for me, Miss Granger. Shall we find out how far I can push you?"

Her eyes darkened when his wide hand rested on her sternum and pushed, applying just enough pressure to let her know he could keep her there with the tiniest effort, and he wouldn't even need to use magic.

"It sounds like you've done this type of thing before."

"Bringing an errant witch to heel? I have. Just because I am not a Dominant in the traditional terms, does not mean I do not enjoy certain acts… recreationally. Much like many of my other proclivities."

He dipped his head again, his teeth grazing her juglar before giving it a nip. She stuttered in a breath, and he pulled back to look down at her once again. Her eyes were glazed over, her bottom lip between her teeth, her breathing heavy. She was flushed, and obviously very, very interested in what he had to say.

"You surprise me, Miss Granger. Pleasantly," he whispered. "If it is pain you want, then it would be my pleasure to bestow it upon you." Hermione blinked a few times, and before he was able to ask her if she was well, the familiar, silvery strands of a Patronus began to form. After a moment, Crupin's voice burst forth from a large bear standing in the middle of the room.

"You're needed immediately, Sir! There's been a breach - there are Death Eaters in the building!" And just like that, it was gone.

"Death Eaters?" Hermione asked, obviously terrified. "Certainly not after all this time."

"I explained to you before, Miss Granger, that the Death Eaters and their ideals did not simply vanish with the Dark Lord's death," he said hurriedly. A flick of his finger had one of his frock coats in his hands and nimble fingers made quick work of the row of buttons down his chest.

He left the bedroom, Hermione on his heels, summoning her gown and beginning to Transfigure it.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"I'm coming with you, obviously!" she said, exasperated.

"You most certainly are not!" he bellowed. "Stay here - do not leave this room," he said in a tone that brokered no argument. But argue, she did.

"You don't even know how many of them are down there!"

"However many there are, I can handle it without your assistance," he said.

He crossed the room to her in three long strides and tangled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back once more. His lips were on hers less than a second later, his mouth taking of hers almost savagely. "Stay. Here," he said one final time, and turned on his heels, marching out into the corridor, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him.

"Like hell, I will," Hermione growled, Transfiguring her gown into a more reasonable ensemble of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. She pointed her wand at her shoes, and soon she was yanking trainers on her feet.

She stood, summoned her wand sheath, and attached it to her forearm, tucking her wand in it, and Disillusioning it before following Severus' path out the door and down the long hallway.