A/N: Thank you all for coming back to this story with me, although the cliffhanger I left for you, my lovely rabid readers, was somewhat designed in such a way to facilitate a return. I was actually reviewed as 'going full on DARK LORD' for creating the frozen moment of anticipation? Dread? Excitement? My Slytherin pride swelled and tingled at that. It was just such an amazing line to end on but we're back with our twice cursed soulmates to see if the sexual tension will actually be explosive for them. As I sit here, poised to write this chapter 11, I don't quite know where hands and voices are going to lead… I let characters guide me. Once more unto the Shrieking Shack, my loves…

Chapter 11 – Payback

The smirk was palpable. Large, pale hands, strong and unyielding, sunk into the fleshy expanse of Hermione's denim-clad hips where he gripped her, hard. Her breathing shallow with excitement, anticipation, her heart-racing from the shock, she was lost in turmoil as her emotions flared and swirled: panic at being caught in her explorations, the knuckles of her right hand precariously stilled against the hardened and impressive length of her ex-professors arousal. All too soon her own lust flooded through her that he wasn't, even in his wakened state, moving her hand away; his words had halted her ministrations but he had chosen to grab her and keep her fixed upon him; heat pooled low within at the hope that bloomed from his concise action. Is this really happening?

The frozen moment of time stretched on, he waiting for her reaction to his sudden demanding consciousness, to see if her admirable Gryffindor courage would rise to meet his challenge or flail in uncertainty; she warring with her mind as to her next move. One false move and she would lose him; an outcome she was not willing to face so she had to be clever; unfortunately, with his beautiful throbbing erection still present, her brain was not firing on all cylinders, if any.

Severus knew she was lost to the heady combination of fear and lust, he knew she had frozen in shock and disbelief; her stillness, her 'deer-caught-in-headlights' appearance was as much a reaction to his abrupt overtaking of the situation as it was the wave of emotions but he had opened the can of worms now and he could not act further until she did. It had become a game, his challenge, her choice but as the seconds ticked on in the silent tableau, he was growing restless and anxious. A little push, perhaps…

A slight tightening of his grip, after endless moments of doubt, snapped her head up; warm, chocolate/caramel eyes bright with lust met the fathomless depths of inky midnight and her fear left her as if a breeze of desire had swept through her emotions and simply carried it away. She was still nervous but it realisation overtook all other thoughts in her mind when those deliciously slim and talented pale white fingers had dug deeper into her. He was issuing her a challenge and ever the Gryffindor, fuelled by her own lust and nerve would rise to meet it admirably. She shut off her mind, choosing instinct over logic for a change; Hermione rolled her hips against the tops of his thighs where she sat as her knuckles pressed more firmly against his… Slytherin pride.

He reacted instinctively, his body thrummed with the tension, as caught in the moment as she was; the strong grip he had on her hips proved the perfect position from which to move their coupling forward as he suddenly desired more than anything his broken life could offer him. He tugged; the desire and need within him fuelling the action more powerfully than intended. Her hips lurched forward as intended, bringing her heat to press firmly against his pulsing cock but it seemed the little minx had not anticipated the move, or the force behind it. A sweet exclamation of surprise left her throat and she fell forward.

Her usually quick reflexes, tired from the war, dulled by the lust over taking her, failed. As she helplessly descended toward the almost naked wizard before her, caramel eyes shifted from need to mortification at the realisation of what was about to happen and she scrunched them closed, bracing for impact.

The collision came sudden and hard, a slap of flesh-against-flesh, her tank top having ridden up during her earlier ministrations, an unbidden squeak of embarrassment escaped her throat and Snape smiled, out of her field of vision, at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

"Oops," he said in the lightest tones she'd ever heard him use.

Hermione had no idea what to do but something, some small part of her that usually lost the battle with logic was telling her to be herself. To react exactly as she would if this had happened with Harry or Ron, so she did…

A half-delirious laugh escaped her, it was wild and fraught, the only possible reaction to the insane prospect of body slamming Professor Snape in the act of trying to seduce him. Breathless from her fits of nervous mirth, she managed to gasp out… "I am blaming you entirely for killing the mood", as she brought herself back up to face him.

His face was not angry or blank as she had expected, but smirking, his liquid midnight eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You would." He said simply.

"Then might you permit, sir," she began as she reluctantly removed her right hand from its new favourite place in his underwear, "for me to do this properly?"

She leaned forward, intentionally this time, placing a hand either side of his head and bringing their upper bodies and faces parallel.

"Propriety left this room, Miss Granger, when you took it upon yourself to debauch my person." He teased.

Hermione's face dropped a little at being chastised, her confidence beginning to wane but not sufficiently enough to silence her. She rallied her courage and tried again.

"It was meant with no malice, sir, I assure you." She took a deep breath. "This," she slowly rolled her hips against the incredible rigidity of his rock hard flesh, "is what I want. What I have wanted for a very," she rolled them again, adding more pressure to the grinding downward motion, "very long time."

His breath caught at the honesty of her sinful confession, and a surge of fresh desire coursed through his veins, adding a painful twinge to his already aching erection at her even more sinful grindings.

"I see. And what may I ask has inspired such want?" He asked; matching her tactic and thrusting his hips so his turgid cock pressed the seam of her denim shorts against her clit, at least that was his hope. Even through his lust, he was the calculating Slytherin and when Severus Snape wants answers, he gets them. His tactic worked and her head rolled back at the added pressure to the highly sensitive nub.

"Gods, you're a tease, Professor. I can't think like this."

Something feral flashed at the sound of his professional moniker but tamed it momentarily instead forcing acceptance of her inability to answer, presuming her overwhelmed by her desires being requited and his actions to support their coupling. If she wants her 'Professor' back, she can have him.

"You are playing with fire, Miss Granger. And my patience is wearing thin."

His fingers released her hips and slid around her back before quick as a flash, he rolled them to the right, flipping her onto her back and towering over her, his hips cushioned by her thighs, the look in his eyes, expectant.

When he stilled the repositioning and looked at her, he was amazed at the sight. Her hair was wild, haloed around her heart shaped face, her eyes filled with a longing he'd never witnessed as aimed at himself and her lips, those sweet, plump, devilish lips were parted in invitation.

He closed his eyes, desperately seeking the control he needed to not give in and crush his lips to hers, to take her, claim her, as the twice damned affliction of being soul mates demanded. He needed his answers and she was at her least inhibited now, while her lust dominated her logic, to be persuaded into relinquishing her knowledge.

"Answer my question, Miss Granger." He reminded, pressing his hips down at the apex of her thighs.

Oh sweet Merlin, he's good at that. That angle is so – oh my god – it's so intense, too sensitive. Need to focus… he's speaking, I know he's speaking. I can't think about anything except that feeling. Oh Gods that voice… she thought as it echoed again, mixing with the pressure he exerted at her centre causing a hazy, heady unbidden moan to escape her.

"If I knew it was this easy to cease your insufferable enthusiasm for answering my questions, I may have started sooner." He teased, trying to bring her to some form of coherence. It failed; she was lost to sensation, to the timbre of his voice, to the exquisite throb he caused with the increased friction against her clit. She squirmed under his hips, desperate for more contact, she'd do anything.

"Need more…" she whimpered. "Pl-pl-please, Professor."

"Oh no, Miss Granger." He said, revelling in her breathlessness and sweet desperate begging as he stilled her endless writhing with one hand; it found her hip and pressed down hard, the other on the bed by her head, supporting his weight. "If you wish to continue receiving pleasure from me, then a bargain must be agreed."

He cast a wandless set of charms to secure her against the bed; her arms were thrown magically above her, overlapping so each hand gripped its opposite elbow and were unable to leave their position.

"I think that will do for now." He said, shifting himself away from her to stand at the end of the bed. He crossed his arms over his chest in the well-known posture of his intimidating, disapproving Professor stance – it lost a little of its edge without the robes. "You are to answer all questions I put to you. If your answers are satisfactory, you shall be rewarded. Do you accept?"

The loss of contact, at which she protested with a low growl of frustration, brought her slowly back to reluctant coherence as she took in her predicament. She blinked, a lot and caught his gaze, a gasp escaping her as she simultaneously fathomed the wicked predatory gleam in his lustful eyes and her own status as captive prey. Nerves prickled and danced in her belly; she might be willing prey for the unpredictable, dark man of her most hidden fantasies but having his undivided attention in such a vulnerable position was unnerving.

"This is the last time I shall repeat myself, Miss Granger. Do you accept?" Snape's voice had a little more edge to it than expected but she supposed he was dealing with his own lusts, if his still tented boxers were anything to go by and he never did seem to have much patience.

Tentatively, she nodded. I intended to tell him most stuff anyway. At least this way, we get to really enjoy it.

"Given your current state of arousal and your position at my mercy, Miss Granger, I shall require verbal consent to continue." He said, voice husky with arousal and smooth as silk, enjoying himself immensely.

Her nodding became energetic, frantic in acceptance of his terms. "Yes sir, of course sir." The desire to impress a superior habitually taking over all other needs.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Very well." He jerked a nod of approval and cast a hand over her body. "Evanesco"

Hermione's clothing disappeared and the cool breeze danced over her skin as it had his. In response, Severus's eyes were treated to further tightening of caramel-colour nipples and a slight nervous flinch of her dampened sex. The kindness and modesty she had shown him of leaving his underwear in place was not returned.

"Now," he began, waving his hand over her again. "There are many things I would like to know about how we came to be in this situation. I could enter your mind of course but given we are to become more… intimate, that is considered bad form." And you occlude so bloody well, I wouldn't get passed that infernal bloody library.

In the sweep of his magic her body shifted down the bed, bottom perched at the edge, legs dangling over the end from the knee, feet not quite touching the floor and arms still secured above her head.

She inhaled sharply at the speed of his descent with her repositioning. He dropped to his knees and out of her line of sight, kneeling before her mons as if she were to be worshiped. She could hear his breathing exaggerate, a deep scent-inhaling breath – seconds of torturous anticipation – her body clenching with need, knowing that she'd feel, actually feel when he released that breath.

Her scent was surely the temptation of the Gods, rivalled only by Aphrodite herself. He held the sweet honeyed aroma is his lungs, savouring it's presence within him. He forgot himself and his goal for endless moments, he could die a happy man enveloped in the perfume of her arousal; and considering it had been at best, two days, since he had been at deaths door that was saying something. It was a heady blend of senses which she had ensnared, the sight, the scent, and oh how he longed to touch, to taste… Unable to hold in the delicious scent any longer, he exhaled in a rush and repeated, trying to get himself under control.

Hot, moist air rushed to the glistening wet heat of her centre and she gasped at the powerful caress.

Oh mercy. I swear if he doesn't touch me in the next five seconds, I'm going to the dark side. He'll pray for Tom Riddle's return. Grrrrr!

"Please, sir. Please, please, touch me."

Knowing he was unable to refuse her request, given the magic of the soul-mate curse, he employed his Slytherin cunning to prolong her torturous wait. After all, she had kept him on the edge for hours, practically days; this was merely a little payback. He took a moment for him to decide how to proceed, he knew her rewards for well thought out responses would be his reward as much as hers but working around the magic of the curse, getting his own way and keeping her unaware of her power over him was going to take more focus than he currently had available.

Slowly, with a determination only possible via years of practiced self-control, he reached for her left ankle and lifted it to hold her open, admiring the the beautifully toned calf before his gaze traversed to the creamy skin of suspended thigh. She tensed at his touch, poised to explode at any possible contact his beautiful form graced her with – fingers, lips, tongue, anything, she would take anything and everything he gave her and love each exquisite, torturous, blissful second of his caresses. Her pelvis tilted upward in invitation to him as her position changed slightly and her mind screamed… 'Finally! You teasing Slytherin bastard. More! More! Please sir. I need more of you. Do something, anything. Touch me, kiss me. Pleeeeeeease!' Her mind begged as her breathing shallowed with need.

Your wish is my command, my wanton little witch but not quite in the way you want just yet.

He turned his face to the almost trembling flesh as it clenched under his perusal and slid his hand from her delicate ankle to the locked knee that held a beautifully long leg rigidly straight. He moved slowly, his thin lips parting in preparation as he connected with the open crease where glorious sex met soft, sensitive, toned thigh. The first brush of his lips on the overly-eager, stretched-to-breaking-point witch at his mercy, was gentle, barely a touch at all, but her reaction was not. Her locked knee dropped, releasing the suspended calf, unable to hold it as sensations flooded through her at finally having intimate contact and a squeal of joy and excitement that could disintegrate an army of dementors tore from her lips releasing days of pent up frustration. It erupted above him while her hips jumped and writhed for more before him. He couldn't hold back the smirk that curved against her skin. Dear Merlin, she's beyond my expectation of responsive, I'll be taking her in under five minutes if she keeps this up.

"Control yourself Miss Granger. You will wear yourself out long before you give me the chance to do so if you coil yourself so tightly."

'It's entirely your fault I'm coiled so fucking tight. I never thought, never expected you'd be so… so…' Her screaming mind short-circuited, the ability to form words lost, along with it the ability to unknowingly hurl almost every thought she possessed at his amused senses as he whole body was set ablaze; he was nibbling, sucking at the delectable skin he was attending to; so close to where she needed those lips but nowhere near close enough.

He drew back and looked at the smooth patch of skin, reddened by love-bite he had bestowed; it was so pretty, glistening with his saliva. He inhaled her scent once more as he leaned in closer to where beads of her arousal had begun to leak from her. The release of his breath caused her to shudder, violently and an ooze of nectar to seep the passage hidden by her sweet pink folds. He couldn't resist, it was contrary to his goal, his mission for answers but he was powerless against her scent, her adorable tight cunt, her secretions of desire, all for him. His tongue advanced and with a quick swipe, lapped with an enthusiasm hadn't possessed for anyone or anything in years.

"Oh, Severus" came the breathless cry from Hermione as she bucked against his wicked tongue.

A/N: Phew! ***wipes brow*** It's impossibly hard work writing sex scenes – the feelings, sensations, reactions, hand placement, lips placement, gasps, moans, whimpers, groaning – I think I need a lie down. To be continued…

***maniacal cackle***

Thank you all for the continued support of your readership and reviews. They make me want to write until my fingers fall off. Ever the Slytherin, hopefully I have left you wanting more. More which I promise will arrive soon.