December 2010
"Mr Williams, settle down immediately or you will spend Christmas at Hogwarts while the rest of your peers enjoy themselves abroad," his signature drawl had the guilty young man falling silent, the rest of the group standing about, chattering softly but urgently in excitement and nervousness equally at the much anticipated trip to Germany.
Severus was none-too-pleased about losing a week of his precious Christmas break to watch over the eager sixth and seventh years, but it was a favour that was owed and would be fulfilled. It wasn't the first trip of this kind that they'd arranged. After the war he had returned to Hogwarts, supporting Minerva through an education reform as her Deputy once recovered from the blasted snake trying to murder him.
His years since the war had brought new challenges and though he had plans to one day leave Hogwarts and establish his own apothecary, for now he was content in bringing about the changes he wanted to see in their education system. Everyone had thought he hated teaching and for a while in his younger years he despised it. But once the pressure of the war and two masters was no longer hanging over his head, he enjoyed nurturing young talent. His demeanor was still firm, as it had to be around dangerous substances, but he no longer had to pretend favouritism and selected his NEWT students very carefully to allow a truly conducive environment for those who were willing to learn the difficult art of potions.
They'd introduced short trips in Europe for those with exceptional results to experience certain subjects in practice - a visit to the Transfiguration institute in Switzerland in March, a visit to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary in May, and a week-long conference for OWL students of Magical Runes in one of the most powerful runic circles in Europe situated in Greece in early October. This year, he had taken over as the Headmaster since Minerva retired after a health scare, and he agreed for Draco, their newest addition on the staff, to introduce a trip for the NEWT Potions students to the Black Forest region in Germany to learn about local ingredients and harvesting on powerful ley lines. After a reminder that he owed Draco a favour after last year's incident in his lab, he agreed to accompany him as they needed a minimum of two chaperones for the fourteen students they were taking with them.
Checking his watch impatiently, his brow raised in surprise when instead of the expected blond, he spotted a head of chocolate curls piled into an elegant bun atop the petite witch's head. The students quieted upon her arrival, something he found amusing every time it happened.
"Headmaster," Hermione greeted formally in front of the students, her voice soft and melodious as she handed over a letter, the Malfoy seal broken on the edge of the heavy parchment.
"Professor Granger," he saw the short missive was indeed addressed to her and read the contents silently before nodding. It wasn't ideal circumstances but he couldn't blame Draco for having to tend to his ailing wife and young son. "Very well, let us depart. The portkey will activate shortly. Gather around everyone," he called for them to step closer and held out the small towel for everyone to grab an edge. It was thankfully clean at least.
He noted the curious looks from the students as she stood across from him and ushered the students around them to hold on tightly. The portkey activated in less than a minute and they hurtled through time and space, shouting for the students to let go of the towel when they felt the portkey slowing. They held back until the last of the students dropped and kicked their feet to slow down their fall, landing on their feet in the middle of a pile of students.
Hermione proceeded to dry and clean all those who landed in mud or snow and they headed down the slope towards the town of Triberg. Severus was pleased to see the students were behaving fairly orderly, looking around the houses they were approaching with amazement and wonder. He wished he was capable of such wonder but he was familiar with the area. And so was the witch walking at his side quietly.
If someone had told him a few years ago that he would consider Hermione Granger a colleague, and dare he say, a friend these days, he would refer them to the Janus Thickey ward post-haste. He despised her for a while after he woke up in agony under Poppy's care, remembering flashes of trembling fingers forcing his lips apart to shove potion after potion down his throat when all he wanted to do was die in peace. He had been too tired, too angry, too guilty to do anything anymore. But as time passed and he made his peace with the war and truly began living, his anger at his saviour abated.
It was nonetheless surprising to see her walk through the gates of Hogwarts two years ago, behaving unlike anything he would have expected of her. The Board was in uproar at the hire, and Minerva spent several hours in fervent argument with the bunch of dunderheads until they approved the war heroine to teach. One would think their welcome to be warm, afterall she was one third of the Golden Trio and truth be told, Potter and Weasley wouldn't have lasted a day without her. No, the Governors were once again in uproar that a magical creature was allowed to teach at Hogwarts. Despite her years of work for creature rights at the Ministry, the moment she had become one due to no fault of her own, her career was over.
He'd read all about the attack, their peace-making mission to the vampire court in Vienna ending in disaster when one of the idiots from her envoy injured the vampire royal family and she took the fall by accepting being turned. Despite all the rights she had secured for creatures, many for werewolves and house-elves, she was persona-non-grata. They tolerated her in her role because she was still a famous war heroine, but there was no prospect for her career. After being passed for promotion three times, she had left on her own terms with her head held high. And as was typical for his dear feline friend, Minerva pounced and offered her a position at Hogwarts. Despite her work at the Ministry, Granger had managed to complete a part-time Mastery in Transfiguration, making her the perfect candidate for the position Minerva had been struggling to fill for years as she took over as Headmistress.
At first, the students were awed and weary in equal measure. He himself didn't know what to expect of her - a dark creature aura making her even more bossy, or a young woman with the same nervous ticks, propensity for chattering endlessly, and birds-nest atop her head. Instead, he met a whole new caliber of witch, still petite though nowhere near as decimated as she had been after the war, her curls dark and shiny with health against her soft honey skin and dark eyes. She carried herself with grace, movements silent and presence striking, earning her a reputation of an equally respected and beloved teacher.
He had sat in one of her classes for observation, as imposed by the blithering idiots on the Board, and watched with silent surprise and growing respect as she didn't just teach a subject to her class. She was encouraging the younger students to understand the very fabric of magic in order to be able to alter it. Her lesson was engaging, inspiring, and he found himself reporting nothing less than excellent feedback to Minerva who only smiled in that pleased manner of hers.
Over the past two years, they had become colleagues, and he found his respect growing for her. She was measured and careful not to let her nature show around the students, but he had equally witnessed her in her element, floating and body arched in the middle of the Hogwarts stone circle as she strengthened the wards on the school with blood magic, sanctioned by Hogwarts herself. Measured as she was, she remained a deadly adversary and he knew there would be no stopping her had her nature and intent been different.
Due to his own schedule and her supernatural nature, they were both prone to walking the halls of the castle at night and developed an easy rapport though she never touched the tea fetched by the elves. He'd once caught her wrinkling her nose momentarily at a milky cup of tea and realised vampires did not ingest dairy or anything processed. It wasn't that they were completely avoidant of food but they were very selective - uncooked meat, smoked fish, some berries and nuts perhaps. And if milk was the problem, he accepted the challenge. He surprised her one day with a fragrant pot of jasmine flowering tea and her pleased smile as she sipped it was all the answer he needed. It became their habit since, a cup of tea at least twice a week, rotating through the varieties until they stuck to their top favourites, though he only made green tea for her. He hated the grassy notes.
As they arrived at the hotel and arranged the students into pairs to share rooms, Severus realised an oversight. "There may be a slight complication for the duration of our stay," he said quietly to not be overheard by the students.
"And what would that be?" she asked equally quietly.
"Draco and I were intending on sharing a twin room," he held up the key in his hand before turning to the reception, asking politely in fluent German whether they had another room to book to allow them each their privacy.
Hermione didn't need a translator to understand the apologetic smile and shake of the receptionist's head. It was close to Christmas and the hotel was full. "We are both adults, colleagues and I would hope even friends. I am not opposed to sharing a room with you, Severus, unless it is not...suitable for you," she offered, realising he may not wish to be in such close quarters with her.
He shook his head. "We will manage if you are agreeable," he closed the topic and they headed upstairs to get settled in.
She bumped into his back as he stepped into the room and stopped short, but quickly took a step back from the enticing heat of his body. "What is it?" she asked, waiting for a response but he only stepped aside for her to see the conundrum. There was only one bed in the room, a large double bed but one bed nonetheless. She looked around the room and spotted an armchair. "We will make do. I sleep little and can perch on the chair," she said simply and stepped around him, settling her small carry-on luggage by the table, unpacking with a flick of her wand. "I'll check on the students while you settle in," she offered and glided out of the door, leaving him to stew and put away his things.
He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly and sighed deeply. Splendid.
She sat by the window, bathed in the bright waxing gibbous moonlight as she read through the last chapter of her book contently. Severus' breathing was soft and even, he'd snored a little earlier but he was settled into a deeper sleep now, resting peacefully against his pillow. She avoided looking at him directly as much as she could, the man was an ex-spy afterall and she had been told that her gaze caused the body to react instinctively with fight-or-flight. And she would rather not wake him just because she was staring.
For a man who just turned fifty and survived the brunt of the war, he was in remarkable shape. He was still impossibly tall and slim but his clothing hid a lean strength much more apparent in his sleeping t-shirt and trousers. His hair was no longer lanky and greasy but meticulously cared for, and so very fine, it moved like liquid ink in the right light. It was still just past his shoulders and she'd never before seen him tie it back at the nape of the neck as he'd done this evening in preparation for bed. It suited him, his strong aquiline nose and sharp cheekbones all the more pronounced and elegant. Where many judged his appearance, she enjoyed the intelligence evident in his dark gaze and the way he moved, finding him rather striking.
The rest of the staff varied in their acceptance of her from warm welcome to cold and distant. He hadn't treated her as anything less than equal since she stepped foot back at Hogwarts and as much as she desired to give into the song in his blood, she kept herself under tight control around him. She knew of course that there would be a possibility, many creatures had specific ways of mating, but she'd never suspected she would find her mate right under her nose.
Hibiscus, lansang souchong and indigo ink on aged parchment, her amortentia and the scent of the man she knew was destined to be her other half. And yet, though he'd been cordial in all manner or ways, she could still tell that he was weary of her nature deep down. If she had been her old human self, she would have taken the plunge and asked him for dinner. But as things were, she did not want to alienate her main ally at Hogwarts or jeopardise their friendship.
She reached for the small silver flask she carried with her at all times, taking a small sip from her weekly blood allowance. Her eyes closed in delight at the taste of ambrosia on her tongue, her body heating up with a burst of energy as the life force made its way through her system. She opened her eyes slowly and caught the reflection of her crimson gaze in the mirror beside her, looking at what she had become unflinchingly. There was a time, for a few months after being turned, when she had been unable to see herself as anything but a monster, struggling with the hunger, the urges, her appetite for blood and pleasure. The way everyone stared at her, the whispers she could previously tune out were far too loud in her ears… and her break up with Ron had been the last straw. He wouldn't even look at her when she came home a creature of the night and he refused to believe there was any prospect of them staying together. Looking back at the situation, she was glad for it, for the adversity and for the break up with Ron. It made her stronger, made her adapt faster and realise that if this was to be her existence for centuries to come, she would not be ashamed of who she was and how she lived her life. She found the balance between being private about her intake of blood and magical senses around all warmbloods, for their comfort as well as her own, but that didn't mean she was any less of a vampire.
She caught movement from the corner of her eye and saw clearly despite the darkened room Severus' intent gaze on her as the crimson slowly dispersed back into her dark eyes and body cooled now that the blood was absorbed. She didn't say anything, didn't want to break the moment of stillness between them, the silence in the room was almost intimate.
If there ever was a smell she could go without, it was the sour tang of fear. Everyone around her was sending her signals with their body. They could be smiling at her brightly and yet she would smell that tang of fear that always set her on edge, always made her want to withdraw. She waited for it now, illuminated by the moonlight, having revealed her true nature to this man in such close quarters, and yet a completely different scent reached her nose. Sweet and heated like roasted spices, and in that moment she knew that it wasn't fear Severus Snape felt, but desire. Desire at the sight of her, despite the blood that still coloured her lips burgundy.
She stood and walked towards the bed, standing beside the mattress for a moment, letting his appraising gaze take in her loose lounge trousers and thin-strapped top, her curls wild around her shoulders. His hand moved to pull the duvet back in invitation and she climbed onto the firm mattress, settling on her side to face him.
After a moment of silent tension between them, the Headmaster closed his eyes, his breathing evening out. And she found that with the soft thudding sound of his steady heartbeat, she was lulled to sleep as well.
She didn't know how it happened. One moment they were collecting ingredients, and the next she stood beside the fallen tree, the shaking young woman in her arms. Hermione wasn't sure whether it was the creaking of the wood that ticked her off, or the startled cry from the frightened student but she moved before anyone else did. One of the tree's branches dug into her back and tore her coat to tatters, but the student in her arms was unharmed.
She gently turned the shaking Ravenclaw around and looked into her eyes. "Are you alright, Miss Shelby?"
The blonde blinked at her at the hypnotic tone of her voice and nodded her head slowly.
"Good, all is well. Now, return to your friends," she instructed and watched as the gentle suggestive compulsion worked and had the girl settled a bit more. She would process the incident slowly this way, instead of remaining shaky. Nonetheless, perhaps they should make their way back.
A man ran over to their group, one of the natives, speaking fast German that Severus countered, trying to make sure there was no trace of magic and gently slipping into the muggle's mind to make sure he hadn't seen Hermione move with supernatural speed. Thankfully he had only heard the tree falling so he gently withdrew from his mind and sent the muggle away.
Hermione appeared by his side and they stood close to speak quietly while the students chattered together about the incident. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "I'll be fine, but will have to walk with my coat into the village like this. We were seen, I can't just magically repair it on my way back or the story the muggle tells will not add up," she sighed.
"Here," Severus helped her out of the tattered fabric and settled his own coat around her shoulders.
"Will you not be cold?" she asked, herself barely feeling the change in temperature. Unlike her, Severus was still human.
"I will keep up warming charms and pretend to be cold once we step into the hotel," he promised as they started making their way back up the road. At least the incident happened at the end of their journey, and their baskets were full of local ingredients, the students still buzzing from being able to collect new ingredients from the magically powerful soil.
The receptionist inquired about their trip and the incident, clearly the muggle they spoke to earlier was one of the guests and the story spread fast. Hermione was glad they had taken precautions. While Severus corralled everyone into their rooms to clean up and change for dinner, Hermione settled into the room and decided to have her dinner before they went to the restaurant where she could nibble on some real food.
Her hand dug into her pocket, only to find the bottom of it torn and her flask missing. A momentary sense of panic settled on her as she searched her whole coat impatiently. She lost it. Was it when she moved too fast or because of the tree? She left a hasty note for Severus and dashed back down the path, ignoring the strange looks in the lobby. Once out of sight, she moved fast, searching the area, trying to find the flask on the pathway or in the undergrowth.
Nothing.
There were too many footprints, too many people and animals have been through this part of the road, there was no way for her to see if anyone had taken it deliberately. Truth be told she wouldn't be surprised, as it was an antique Tiffany silver flask with beautiful carving. Once emptied and cleaned, it would sell for hundreds if not thousands of euros. As she made her way back to the hotel, the realisation that she had three more days to go on the trip and no blood left sank in.
She couldn't go three days without, that much she had learnt early on through testing her resistance. She could maybe go two, but three was a push and at that point she could be a danger to Severus and the students, or any occupants of the hotel for that matter. She could always hunt and feed, maybe visit one of the local pubs, have a quick meal before obliviating her unsuspecting victim. But it was risky business, as the person could be using drugs, or carry diseases born through blood that could weaken her. And trying to get blood from the local hospital when she didn't even speak German was out of the question altogether. Running out of options, she wondered whether she would be forced to leave early.
Severus was waiting for her in the room, reading a book by the balcony, in the seat she usually occupied at night while he slept. It had been a strange few days, the silent tension between them growing as they were forced into such close quarters. He could freely admit to himself that he was attracted to Hermione Granger, her vampirism not scaring him at all, and her blood magic skills impressive to his intellect. He'd thought they would have a hurt or even a dead student to deal with. There was no time to even arrest the momentum of the tree, but she had risked her own life to save a student, and that he admired as well. He was fairly certain she had used compulsion on the girl earlier, otherwise she wouldn't have been so calm after nearly dying, and a momentary apprehension made him question whether his attraction was compulsive.
But instinctively he knew this is not what compulsion felt like, having experienced it enough during the war. He was genuinely attracted to her, and if the intense way she watched him fall asleep was any indication, perhaps there was a part of her that was as drawn to him as he was to her.
She walked in a moment later, her expression tense and he set his book down to give her his full attention. "What's the matter?" he asked, crossing his legs elegantly.
"My flask was lost in the woods. I searched everywhere but it was no longer there," she explained as she took off his coat and hung it up by the door.
He took the information in and nodded. "Very well, how much do you need to sustain you?" he asked, as if they were talking about the weather.
Hermione blinked, looking at his calm expression. "Not much, a small measure, maybe 30 milliliters as a bare minimum."
"Have you been sustaining on bare minimum this week?" he asked, unflinching from the topic.
"Yes," she answered just as frankly.
He nodded. "If I provided a more substantial measure this eve, would you be able to last until the end of the trip?"
She took in a deep breath and shook her head. "Perhaps, but I couldn't possibly ask that of you, Severus."
"You are not asking, I am offering," he closed the conversation and reached for his sleeve, wand at the ready to make the small incision to donate his blood.
In a flash of an eye, she stood before him, her slender hand halting his progress with a cool touch. "Don't, please," the words were soft, but her internal struggle was clear in the crimson that bled into her gaze.
Severus halted his movements, the fine hairs on his neck rising at the closeness to the predator in her. "Would this not solve the issue?"
She nodded. "It would, but this is not how I obtain blood usually. I rarely hunt. If you were to cut yourself in front me, I might want to...hunt instead," she tried to explain without being too graphic or revealing too much about her attraction to his blood.
Would this be the point at which he began to fear her? She expected the sour tang on his skin but he remained calm in the face of her hunger. Was he occluding? Was that why? No, his eyes were dark, warm and present unlike the cool gaze of an Occlumens.
"Very well, I will arrange for this later in the evening," he acknowledged and felt bereft when she nodded in gratitude and retrieved her hand.
That evening they took turns at dinner, watching over the students eat, adapting to their muggle surroundings. Hermione led them down, with Severus joining them shortly and suggesting she retires early to get some rest. She could smell it the moment she stepped into their room, the rich aroma of his potent blood. Forcing herself to slowly close the door behind her and walk over to the table, she sat down before the cup, forcing every muscle in her body under her command. Her mate's blood, willingly donated. She could smell the power of his magic and his potency in the dark liquid, her instincts shouting at her to get it from the vein. But he was her mate, if she were to take blood from him, she wasn't sure of the consequences of the action.
So she picked up the cup, breathing in his life essence with closed eyes and took her first sip. Her world exploded as the blood hit her tongue, her mind spinning through the aether, her immortal blood and body practically singing with magic as she took in another greedy mouthful, clutching the cup in her hands. The porcelain shattered at the strength of her hold and she knelt on the floor to pick up the pieces, the leftover blood on her hands. She couldn't help herself and licked the blood off her long fingers with delight.
The door opened and Severus stepped in, hastily closing the door after him once he spotted her on the floor, transfixed with licking his blood off her fingers. It was the most he had seen of the creature within her, not even the ward-setting blood ritual she had performed made her crimson gaze so wild. Their gaze met as she sucked what appeared to be the last of the blood off her lacquered thumbnail before her eyes closed and she lay back down on the carpet, her bloodied lips wide with a smile. Was she...no. But yes, she was blood drunk. His blood had caused her body to succumb not to blood lust but to a blood high. He wasn't quite sure what to think of that as he picked her up off the floor and settled her in the bed instead, and helped her take off her shoes and socks to get her more comfortable. He dabbed at her lips with one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs and covered her with the duvet to get some rest.
His knowledge on dark arts was extensive, but even he wasn't quite as well versed in vampire culture as he would have wanted to be when she first came to Hogwarts. Now, after two years of growing closer as friends, he was much more enlightened through extensive reading into the etiquette, behaviour, and even mating habits of vampires. At the time he justified it by wanting to protect a student if any of them manifested as a mate upon reaching maturity. Mating knew no age difference beyond maturity. Her mate could be seventeen or a hundred years old, magic worked beyond their comprehension in many ways.
But this gave him much to think about. He sat down in the chair she usually occupied in her wakeful nights before joining him in bed, and he thought to the last few days that have forced them into such close proximity. She always drank her blood at night, and always at a distance from him. That in itself wasn't out of character but she was meticulous about not getting too close to him right after drinking blood. When she lay down next to him, she kept as much distance between them as possible when falling asleep, but when he woke in the early morning hours, he found her reaching for him across the mattress, curled in a ball and unmoving.
Her skin, rich dark honey most days, was paler when she slept, almost lifeless in appearance. According to his reading, it was a sign she was either unmated or rejected by her mate, as most mated vampires grew warmer in sleep once mated. He wasn't sure what was the case. Has she been rejected by someone already? The thought made him irrationally furious. What manner of man or creature would refuse her mind, her complex character, her beauty? The thought made him pause and he rubbed his face tiredly, unable to lie to himself after many years of suppressing his desires. He wanted her, human or vampire, or perhaps because in her vampirism they appeared to have grown more compatible than he would have ever thought they could be. Two years ago, she was an ex-student, an infuriating know-it-all, a victim of the war that took her youth and joy. Now, she was an intriguing woman, a fascinating witch, and an erotic dream when his subconsious allowed itself to have her at least while he slept.
He shook his head and headed for a shower, occupying his time with writing some urgent letters and reading before the hour grew too late and he needed to rest. Clothed in his simple black trousers and long-sleeve t-shirt, he carefully lay down in the bed beside her, marvelling at her peaceful features. He wasn't settled in longer than a few moments before he felt her touch, her hand reaching for him across the mattress once again, landing on his chest over his rapidly beating heart.
"Mate…" she whispered, eyes restless beneath her closed lids before she settled again, curling up on her side and facing him. Was she missing someone? Could he dare hope she meant him?
He held still, face turned towards her in the quiet of the late night, in the almost intimate moment between them. He fell asleep comfortably for the first time that week, and dreamt of nothing as his mind was quiet.
His awakening was anything but peaceful though as he sat up abruptly, his hand reaching up to hold his assailant in a bruising grip. As he blinked his eyes open and shook off the fog of sleep, he realised it was his bedmate who sat across his lap and held tight in his bruising grip.
"Hermione? What is it?" he asked gruffly, voice hoarse after hours of deep sleep.
She looked to be in pain, her eyes glowing crimson and features contorted in discomfort. "I'm sorry, I can't...I tried to hold back but...I don't need but I want…" her gaze fell to the pulsing vein on his pale neck, expression so needful he felt the first frisson of apprehension. "I want more...I want to taste you…" she whispered, as if in a trance.
Severus' grip only tightened on her arms. "Hermione...are you hunting me?" he asked calmly, trying to relax despite the imminent threat.
She shook her head, her curls wild around her shoulders. "I caught you, mate," she smiled, her teeth sharp and elongated.
His sharp inhale at the designation was lost in her soft hiss as she tore herself away from him, scrambling all the way down to the footboard of the bed.
"You fear me...I made you fear me...you will reject me now, won't you? Oh Severus, what have I done? I'm so sorry," she covered her mouth as she trembled like a leaf in a storm, her gaze still bright but red giving way somewhat to her usual brown, the witch and her creature nature fighting for him.
"I'm not afraid," he countered calmly, willing his body to relax and rested his back against the headboard.
She shook her head in response, gaze remorseful. "I can smell it on your skin, I made you fear you. You never fear me…" her words barely a whisper.
"And I do not fear you now. You startled an ex-spy from his sleep. I was confused and apprehensive. But you, I don't have a reason to fear. Unless you give me a reason to," he responded and held out his hand to her in invitation.
She trembled where she sat, her nails digging into her palm to stop herself from the invitation from her mate.
Severus made a decision in that moment that he knew would alter his life forever, but if it was true, if he was her mate, then their destiny was always meant to be thus and he would be a fool to fight it. "Will you turn me, if you drink of me now?" he asked, voice steady and showing her he was unafraid of her nature.
She inhaled sharply and her features turned into a fierce expression. "Never without your consent," she replied with absolute honesty and conviction.
"Then as your mate, I offer my body and blood to you freely, until I am ready to be turned as your full mate," he proclaimed clearly, his magic humming and recognising his oath.
Her magic practically sang in response to his oath and she moved across the bed faster than he could process, sitting astride his lap once more to hold him close. "You will be my mate? You won't reject me? You promise this?" she asked, her words shaky and eager as she pressed closer into him.
"I promise. Now, if you need to feed, you feed," he tilted his head aside in invitation.
She however pushed at his shirt, tugging the fabric upwards until he accommodated her and lifted his arms, revealing his slim build, pale scarred skin and dark patch of coarse hair on his chest. She leaned down and kissed the warm skin in affection, making his heart beat all the faster under the intimate touch, before her gaze lifted to him.
"I won't drink from your neck, as if you were nothing but a meal. You are my mate, I will drink from your heart vein, the vein of life…" she whispered and licked over the smooth skin before her teeth pushed through the last barrier between her and his life force with a sharp piercing stab.
He gasped at the sharp pain before his mind blanked completely at the sheer joy and pleasure of her pull on his magical blood. It was unlike anything he'd experienced before in his life, the sheer ecstasy of feeding his mate his life force to sustain her. She pulled away a few moments later, lips and teeth stained burgundy, and he wasn't sure whose magic acted first but the last of their clothing vanished off their forms and her smooth cooler skin met his heated flesh as they rolled onto the mattress, their lips clashing hungrily.
He could taste his own blood on her tongue, the coppery tang mixing with the taste of her, and he impatiently buried a hand in her hair to hold onto her tight as their bodies aligned. She reached down impatiently, one hand squeezing his cheek eagery, nails digging into the rounded flesh as she guided him to her soaking folds and arched her hips up to meet him. Their bodies joined for the first time, but both stilled their impatience in order to take each other in. It may have been the first time they joined in this lifetime, but Severus felt his magic reaching out and twining with Hermione's in recognition. This was not the first time they'd been this close, this intimate. Their connection went beyond this lifetime, and he felt himself reaching to her with his whole being.
Severus…. Her mind whispered to him as their hips met again and again in the oldest dance known to mankind, recognising him just as readily as he recognised her soul and magic.
Their hold on each other tightened as he sat back and held her close in his lap, their bodies meeting thrust for thrust, the new angle allowing him to feel her deeply. She felt divine, her mind and magic caressed his enticingly and he felt as if he had found his life's purpose again.
She held onto his neck tightly as her hand slipped between them to circle her aching clit and with a soft cry of completion, her body arched and clench around him, forcing his own pleasure to spill deep within her. Their magic pulsed and twined, their offering of blood and pleasure accepted by ancient magicks and the bond settled over them.
Severus rested his chin atop her damp curls as they held each other close, allowing their magic to settle, sensing the connection like a magical ribbon tethering their souls and magic together. "I am yours and you are mine. May my magic and soul bound to yours bring you protection and love," he whispered, an ancient rite of their ancestors upon bonding.
And just as he knew she would, she recognised the words and responded in kind. "I am yours and you are mine. May my magic and soul bound to yours bring you peace in strife and all of my love."
Their magical bond hummed at their oaths and he looked down at the sated witch within his arms with unguarded affection. "I know we've had lives past when our magic has met, but I would like to build on our friendship with affection, even more so now. Perhaps make this our last lifetime," he suggested.
"As long as it lasts an eternity, I'd like that," she hummed, and with the promise, of centuries together when he was ready to be turned, they settled down for a truly peaceful rest in each other's arms.
They had the rest of their long lives to work out everything else after all.
Fin.