Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.

A/N: As previously mentioned, this is an edited version of the full Chapter 38 which is currently posted at OWL and will appear on Ashwinder when I reach this stage of the story there. The full version may or may not be pushing the M rating, but I'm not willing to take the chance. Authors have been banned for far less, and in my experience, it's better to be safe than sorry.


Chapter 37

Hermione returned to her room late on Thursday night, her body thrumming with a delicious mixture of nerves and anticipation. She had seen in Severus' eyes the same desire she felt, but she also understood the value of waiting until tomorrow night. They had finally managed to be alone for a significant length of time tonight, without interruptions, but neither of them – especially her – had been in the right mindset to take things further then and there, no matter how much they both wanted it. Hermione fully believed his promise that there would be no interruptions the following night, and she had the feeling it might just prove to be one of the longest days of her life. When she finally managed to fall asleep back in her own room, her dreams were filled with his hands, reaching out but always stopping just short of touching her.

As Friday progressed, Hermione's nerves seemed to be getting the better of her. Her first class of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts, had proven a welcome distraction; the defensive spells they were practicing required all her concentration. Arithmancy, just before lunch, wasn't so engaging, and while Hermione had always enjoyed the subject, Professor Vector's revision lecture seemed monotonous this particular day, allowing her mind to wander back to her discussion with Severus the previous night.

By the time the lunch hour came around, Hermione didn't think she could concentrate through her afternoon class, especially since it was Potions. Severus might not be teaching it any longer, but memories of him still lingered in the classroom, and Hermione knew she wouldn't hear a word of Dumbledore's theory revision when all she could think about was the smooth, deep tones of her former teacher's voice.

She was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, gazing blankly at the plate of sandwiches before her, when Ron and Harry plonked themselves down either side of her.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Ron asked, staring at her when she didn't acknowledge them immediately.

Harry followed his friend's gaze, scrutinizing Hermione with something of a frown on his face.

"You look a little flushed," Harry said. "Not sick, are you?"

Hermione flushed even more at the fact they had noticed, but managed to say, "Yeah, I don't feel very well, actually. I think I might see if Madam Pomfrey can give me something."

She was hungry, actually, but she ignored the sandwiches and stood up to leave.

"Harry, if I'm not in Potions this afternoon could you tell Professor Dumbledore I wasn't feeling well, please?" She felt slightly guilty about feigning illness, but it was only revision, and after spending so much time with the former Potions master, it was the one class she could actually afford to miss.

Her dark-haired friend nodded, reaching for a sandwich himself as he echoed her thoughts, "It's only revision, anyway, and I'm sure you know it."

She laughed half-heartedly and left her friends to their lunch. For a moment, Hermione considered actually going to the Hospital Wing, but she knew a Stomach-Calming Draught wouldn't do anything for nerves. The most inviting thing she could think of at that moment was a long, hot shower in the privacy of her own bathroom.

Back in her room, Hermione shrugged out of her school robe and grimaced down at the conservative blouse and skirt. She wore her school robes when she brewed sometimes, but she would have to change tonight. She knew it bothered Severus that she would still be his student if circumstances were different. She knew, too, had that been the case, he would never have crossed the line of impropriety after their first, unexpected kiss.

Despite an assurance that he didn't dwell on what might have been, Hermione had noticed he was seldom as demonstrative of his feelings for her when she was wearing her uniform as the nights she changed into her casual clothes.

A shower did calm her nerves considerably, and it gave her time to think. She couldn't quite work out why she was so nervous about the approaching evening; yes, it was new territory for her, so to speak, and although she knew what to expect, she didn't know what Severus expected of her.

She assumed he knew she was a virgin, though they'd never actually broached the subject directly. She might be lacking as far as her own experience went, but she had heard the gossip and read as many teenage magazines – both in the wizarding world and the Muggle one – as any other eighteen-year old girl... woman, she corrected herself mentally. Just because she preferred her textbooks over said gossip didn't mean she hadn't been curious, and the Hogwarts library was a wealth of information on almost anything, if one knew where to look.

Rinsing her hair and combing her fingers through the last of the tangles, the fleeting image of Severus standing under the warm spray of his own shower came into her mind again, as it had that morning in his quarters not even a week ago. She pushed it aside, turned off the taps with a growl and stepped out into the middle of the room.

As she reached for her wand to cast a drying charm, she caught sight of her foggy reflection in the mirror above the sink. On impulse, she reached out and wiped her hand across the glass until her reflection came into focus, and then stood back, head cocked to one side in a silent appraisal of herself.

The mirror remained silent; one thing she could never get used to in the wizarding world was talking mirrors in bathrooms. It just seemed... wrong... and so, at the beginning of the year, she had asked Professor McGonagall if she might exchange the very talkative mirror in her new bathroom for a plain Muggle one.

She had realised some weeks ago that there were no magical mirrors anywhere in Snape's quarters... luckily, too, she thought, after seeing him take out his anger on his bathroom one a fortnight ago.

Staring into her own mirror, she bit her lip in contemplation, and the young woman looking back at her did the same. She was average in almost every way; medium height, her plain brown eyes and ever-frizzy hair. She was a bit on the thin side, a few of her ribs visible beneath the skin, her stomach was flat and her breasts were smallish, she supposed, but they suited her small build.

Severus would be seeing her like this tonight. What would he think?

The faded white scar across her collarbone from the fight in the Department of Mysteries seemed to stand out, the rest of her skin flushed from the hot water and steam. That was one thing she didn't have to worry about Severus being repulsed by; he had enough scars of his own and, if anything, it would be her reassuring him she found nothing distasteful about them. They fascinated her in a strangely morbid way, and she had often found herself having to consciously pull back from touching them.

She fingered the rune pendant hanging around her neck, the Christmas gift from her parents. She never took it off these days, not even to shower or sleep. It wasn't that she was superstitious of removing it and forfeiting whatever alleged protection it might offer; she knew there was no real magic in the Muggle-made necklace, but wearing it all the time gave her a sense of well-being, nonetheless, and a closeness to her parents, too. It was one of the few things they had given her that she still had possession of, after their house had been destroyed at Christmas.

Absently casting a drying charm and reaching for a hair elastic to tie back her half-dried mass of curls, she wondered what her mother would think if she knew what had happened between her daughter and the ex-teacher who had saved their lives at Christmastime?

Her mother had been perceptive enough back then, deducing Hermione's growing feelings for her teacher before she had even recognised them fully herself, and so she probably wouldn't be surprised to learn how far those feelings had progressed. The age difference wouldn't bother her mother either, Hermione knew; her maternal grandmother was almost twenty years younger than her grandfather, an even greater relative age gap in the Muggle world, where life expectancy wasn't as long. Her father, on the other hand, might not be so readily accepting; he was strict, but fair, and fiercely protective of his only daughter.

She sighed. There was no point thinking too much on that now, anyway. With her parents in hiding and a very uncertain future ahead of them all, who knew whether she would ever even need to explain to her parents how she had fallen in love with her former teacher.

Turning her mind back to the present, Hermione padded back into her bedroom and opened her underwear drawer, frowning at the haphazard jumble of white, black and pastels. She had never paid much attention to what they looked like before; she was the only one who saw them, after all, and comfort was of greater concern than appearance.

Now, though, she wished she had paid more attention and chosen for the look rather than practicality from time to time. None of the plain cotton knickers in front of her were even remotely enticing, and nor were the plain, matching bras on the other side of the drawer.

Somewhere in her mind, it occurred to her that Severus wouldn't care what she was wearing, but that didn't stop her from wanting to have something a little different... special, perhaps... for tonight.

Struck with sudden inspiration, she turned to her desk and rummaged in the top drawer for a moment. Finding what she was looking for, she sat down on the edge of her bed to flip through a catalogue of Gladrags Wizardwear she'd picked up while Christmas shopping in London. Most of the products were too expensive for her budget, but she could more easily Transfigure something if she had a picture to work from.

She found three pages filled with underwear, from the mundane to the completely ridiculous. Scowling at the scantily-clad witch modelling one of the more provocative designs in the middle of the page, she picked up her wand in one hand and a pair of plain, black cotton knickers in the other.

Frowning in concentration, she spoke a series of spells to alter their appearance. The material turned to a shiny satin, then lace as she spoke another spell. Shaking her head, she finally ended up with a mixture of satin and lace which she was happy with.

Setting the knickers on the bed beside her, she plucked a similarly mundane black bra from her drawer and set about Transfiguring it to match.

A few minutes later, satisfied with their appearance, she slipped them on, surprised to discover they were just as comfortable as the plain cotton ones she was used to. The rest of her clothes were easy, she discovered upon opening her wardrobe. As long as she wasn't in her uniform, she was sure Severus wouldn't have cause to complain. Passing over her favoured jeans, she instead chose a pair of black pants and a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt. Even at the end of April, it still wasn't warm in most parts of the castle, though the thought crossed her mind she might not be wearing the shirt for long, anyway.

Laughing softly at herself, she slipped on a pair of socks and comfortable shoes and tossed her plain, black robe on over the top of her other clothes.

It was only just after three, she discovered upon glancing at the clock. Should she go down to Severus' quarters now? She didn't want to appear so eager, but she could always spend a few hours brewing... if she could concentrate.

Yes, she decided. Anything was better than staying in her room until dinnertime; she wouldn't be able to study, and she would only end up worrying further about the evening, what she was wearing, or some other insignificant detail.

Walking back into the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and took one last look at her reflection. Immaturely poking her tongue out at the apprehension she could see in her own eyes, she turned on her heel, stowed her wand in the pocket of her robes and Flooed to Severus' quarters.

As he often seemed to be, Severus was sitting at his desk, sheaves of parchment spread out before him when she stepped from the fireplace. He looked up, surprised, and then nodded approvingly at her non-school robes. Glancing at the clock on the mantle behind her, though, he frowned.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" he asked.

"I should," she said hesitantly. "I sort of... skipped Potions."

"You skipped Potions?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. The irony that it was his subject she was missing wasn't lost on her, and she bit back a laugh.

"Well, it's only revision," she said quickly, "and you can't say I don't know the subject."

He smirked but didn't comment.

"I thought I'd do some brewing, if that's all right with you," she went on. "Madam Pomfrey mentioned she'd like to have a few doses of a slightly stronger Calming Draught on hand; with NEWTs and OWLs approaching so quickly, I think some of the more unprepared students are starting to panic."

"Do you have everything you need?" he asked, shuffling through one pile of parchments to find a buried book.

"I think so, although she didn't say specifically which potion she wanted."

"There's a book on my desk in there," Severus said, waving one hand towards the lab door as he flipped through the book he had just uncovered. "Page one-hundred and ninety-seven, from memory, is the one she wants."

"Thanks," she said. Then, curious, stepped closer to his desk and peered at the open page of the book. "What are you working on now?"

He sat back for a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"The potion I was working on last night isn't viable. I'm trying to discover what went wrong."

"Good thing you made another of last month's brew, then," she said, wondering guiltily if her distracting him the previous night had contributed to the failure.

As if sensing her thoughts, he said, "It wasn't anything I did or didn't do; the ingredients were sound, as was the method of brewing. It may be something as simple as an unclean jar I overlooked during preparation, but I wanted to check my calculations to be sure before I attempt it again."

"You can try it again this month?" Hermione asked, surprised. "The full moon is only four nights away."

He gave her a withering and thoroughly deserved look that said he knew perfectly well what stage of the moon cycle they were in, before he explained, "If you recall, I mentioned last night only the moon sugar requires preparation on a specific day. I have enough of that now for several cauldrons-full of the potion, and can brew it at any time. As I said, I have the other brew ready for Lupin and his werewolf counterparts this month, so with the new one I am only concerned at this stage with brewing it correctly. Next month, providing it works, we will be able to test for longevity."

Hermione nodded. "I'll leave you to it, then. Have you eaten lunch?"

He shook his head.

"I'll wait for dinner. Are you eating here tonight?"

"If that's all right," she said, turning back with her hand on the lab door. She could have sworn he smirked as he nodded, but the expression was quickly gone as he turned back to his work.

"Close the door behind you, if you will," he called as she left the room, and she complied, knowing he preferred complete silence when doing Arithmantic calculations.

As Hermione closed the door, she leant back against it for a moment and took a deep breath.

Honestly, she scolded, what were you expecting? Had she thought he would take her to bed immediately, in the middle of the afternoon, or push her back on his desk and ravish her on the spot? Did I want him to do that? she thought with a shiver.

Pushing away from the door, she growled softly at the voice in her head chanting, Yes, yes, yes.

Resolutely ignoring it, she retrieved the book from Severus' desk, found the potion on the page he had mentioned, and set about making it. Despite the nerves and anticipation still hanging at the back of her mind, she managed to concentrate and time passed quickly. It was almost six in the evening when she next looked at the clock by the door, and just past the hour by the time she had bottled the completed potion and cleared her workspace.

Opening the door quietly in case Severus was still working, she gasped and stepped fully through the doorway, taking in a very different room to the one she had left.

A different half of the room, at any rate.

Severus' desk was nowhere to be seen; in its place sat a small dining table and two chairs, placed parallel to the window so the diners could enjoy the magnificent view of the late April sunset.

Two places were set with silver cutlery, glinting in the soft light of a single candle. The only other light in the room was the fire in the hearth, casting everything in a soft orange glow and deepening the shadows in the far corners of the room.

Hermione saw a movement across the room and turned her eyes to the bedroom door. It was standing ajar, and as she looked into the haze created by the low light, she saw Severus standing there, arms folded as he leant slightly against the doorframe.

"Severus..." she breathed, lost for all other words. Whatever she had been expecting tonight, nothing like this had ever crossed her mind. Severus Snape wasn't a romantic man – it wasn't in his nature; it wasn't who he was, nor someone she ever expected him to be.

The setting laid out before her was simple yet meaningful, and the sight of him standing across the room, dark eyes watching and waiting for her approval, was poignant in a way no flowers, chocolates or declarations of love could ever be.

Realising her hand was still grasping the doorknob of the open lab door, she pulled it closed behind her and stepped further into the room, stopping at the edge of the small table and tracing the shiny handle of a fork with one finger.

"I... I don't know what to say," she finally whispered. "It's... I..."

She broke off again as he, too, crossed the room and stood in front of her, looking vaguely uncomfortable. She noticed he'd changed into a different shirt from the one he was wearing earlier; still black, this one had a row of tiny buttons down the front, and she could count at least twenty just from a glance before the shirt disappeared into his trousers.

"It's not much," he offered with a slight shrug of his shoulders, glancing at the table, "but I... I thought something different might be nice."

Realising his discomfort was due to the lack of reaction on her part, she closed the rest of the short distance between him, put one hand on his shoulder and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly on the cheek.

"It's perfect," she reassured him.

He seemed to exhale a breath, but he didn't meet her eyes, and she pulled back slightly, letting her hand drop to his forearm as she wondered at his unease. The idea that he might be having second thoughts occurred to her... but surely, if that were the case, he wouldn't have gone to such trouble over dinner…

Unless this was his compromise... his way of letting her down gently.

The fear which came with that thought must have shown on her face, because his expression became confused, and he asked, "What is it?"

She bit her lip, looking to the beautifully laid-out table and then back at him with apprehension. Something akin to realisation dawned in Severus' eyes, and he took a small step back, her arm dropping from his altogether this time. He cleared his throat.

"If you're having second thoughts, Hermione..."

He trailed off, and her eyes widened at his misguided assumption.

"No!" she exclaimed. He looked startled at the vehemence of the single word, and she was unable to hold back a short laugh as she realised they had both been mistaken. "I'm not having second thoughts, definitely not... I thought you were!"

He looked at her incredulously. "What could possibly have given you that idea?"

"It's just... not like you," she explained, gesturing to the table. "I thought it might be a compromise because... if you'd changed your mind about what you'd promised last night."

His face darkened for just a moment, and then he took her by the shoulders.

"I haven't changed my mind, Hermione," he said in a low voice, "and what's more, I don't make promises lightly."

Realising she had offended him, Hermione opened her mouth to apologise, but was prevented from speaking even a word by Severus' lips descending upon hers. He kissed her the same way he had the previous night, full of promise and a desire for more. Ending the kiss after far too short a time, though, he pulled her to him, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You remember," he said quietly, "I told you some time ago it's been a while since I've shared my bed with another. In truth, it's been far too long since I've done any of this... courting" – he grimaced as he failed to find the right word – "I wouldn't even know what you call it these days."

She smiled into the soft fabric of his shirt. Only he could make something as old-fashioned as courting sound appealing.

"Does my being older mean I should have no cause for insecurities? I assure you, there are far more prospective suitors out there for you than there are women queuing outside my door."

She giggled at her mad impulse to go and open the door leading to the outer corridor just to check, but then sobered, perceiving what seemed to be a slight wistfulness in his tone.

Hermione had thought, once or twice, on how hard the last twenty years of Severus' life must have been... not in the sense of his wrong choices and their consequences, but just life as such a solitary man. All men had needs... needs which could hardly be repressed for that length of time. Playing both sides, though, he would hardly have dared get so close to a witch of either loyalty, lest the other side find out and seek to use such closeness against him.

It must have been a terribly lonely existence, she thought, wishing not for the first time that she was older and had been with him for more of his life. It was a ludicrous wish, she knew. Who's to say their paths would have even crossed, had she been born twenty years earlier?

Somehow, the Severus Snape she knew didn't seem like the type of man to resort to using women who would say or do anything for the right amount of gold in their purses. Despite what he had said, she was sure there had been some willing women in his past... she would never ask him, though, and now she thought about it, she wasn't sure she cared to know, either.

His fingers snagging on a tangle in her hair brought her back to the present, and she tightened her arms around him a bit.

"At least you've done this before," she finally murmured, "even if it was a while ago. This is all new to me."

She heard his sudden intake of breath at her finally confirming aloud what she knew he had been almost certain of already. The breath was so soft she might have mistaken it for nothing, had it not been for his hand stilling in her hair at the same moment.

He drew back just far enough to reach up and cup her face in his hands, then, without speaking, leant down to place the softest kiss on each corner of her mouth.

When they parted, he brushed his thumbs across her lips lightly before dropping his hands to rest on her waist. She looked at him curiously, wondering what had prompted such a tender motion.

"I don't think you quite realise," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, "just how much you are giving me."

Hermione found she had no reply to words spoken with such feeling, and she rested her head against his chest again, sighing softly.

She only hoped, inexperienced as she was, that she could give everything he wanted... and everything she wanted to give him.

After some time standing together in silence, she raised her head and said, "So… what happens now?"

"There are no rules, Hermione," he replied with a soft chuckle. "Though, one would think there were, given how we've all but had to arrange a time for this to happen. Now that we are here, though, without interruptions..."

Hermione laughed as he aimed his wand at the fireplace and a dull blue shimmer signalled the presence of a ward. He repeated the action on the door to the hidden corridor and set aside his wand.

"…we can just let the night unfold as it will."

She shivered under the intensity of his gaze and nodded, forcing herself to look away and take a deep, shaky breath.

He stepped back from her then, schooling his face into some semblance of composure.

"Now, are you hungry?"

The nervous energy running through her body meant she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the simple question. Severus, his own eyes lighting up with suppressed mirth as he realised the source of her amusement, amended, "Hungry for food?"

Her stomach growled loudly before she could articulate a response, and she blushed sheepishly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Severus said with a smirk. Pulling out her chair, he saw her seated and then took the place opposite. She watched him across the table, his dark eyes reflecting the light of the single candle and setting his pale skin aglow.

"Something to drink?" he asked. Dropping her eyes to his hand, she realised he had the parchment and quill from the mantle.

"Oh, um," she stammered. "I guess pumpkin juice isn't really appropriate, is it? What are you having?"

"I believe red wine will go well with the food I have ordered," he said, scribbling a few words on the enchanted parchment. "You may have some if you wish."

Hermione hesitated. She drank wine at home on special occasions such as Christmas and birthdays, but it always went straight to her head, no matter how much she ate beforehand. She wanted to be herself tonight, in control of what she was doing. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but she wanted to remember every moment.

"Sparkling apple juice, please," she said. It looked elegant, at least.

He wrote on the parchment again, then set it and the quill aside. A moment later, their drinks appeared, and he raised his glass.

"What shall we drink to? A night free from interruptions?" he suggested with a wry smile.

She laughed softly and picked up her own glass.

"How about just to us?" she offered, and he nodded approvingly.

"To us, then," he said, his glass clinking softly as it met hers.

"To us," she echoed, watching him breathe in the bouquet of the dark wine before drinking. She set her own glass down after taking a small sip.

"What are we having?" she asked curiously, eyeing the silver lids covering the plates in front of them.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, picking up his wand again. "I've taken the liberty of ordering the same for both of us."

A murmured word from him saw the lids vanish, uncovering two sumptuous roast beef dinners, complete with crisp vegetables, steaming-hot roast potatoes and a small pot of gravy which appeared on the table between them.

"Wow, this looks divine," she murmured. "How did you know roast beef is one of my favourites?"

He looked surprised.

"I didn't, actually," he admitted, "although I don't know anyone who doesn't enjoy a good elf-cooked roast."

She smiled as she poured a generous amount of gravy over her meal, then passed the pot across to him. Their fingers brushed as the pot changed hands, but perhaps she only imagined the small spark of static electricity which flashed in the air as they touched.

They ate in comfortable silence, for the most part, and Hermione found her gaze often drifting to Severus' fingers. She had studied them before, both with his knowledge and surreptitiously when she thought he wasn't looking. There was something about them which always drew her attention to the long, tapered digits. They were so different from her own small fingers, and she couldn't help but watch in fascination tonight as they wound about his knife and fork, wrapped around the stem of his wine glass and flexed slightly as he rested one hand on the table beside his plate.

If he noticed her scrutiny while he ate, he said nothing. His own gaze wandered often to the window, the darkening grounds and the lights of Hogsmeade in the distance. There was an introspective expression on his face, and she found herself unwilling to break the silence.

He sat back when he finished eating, cradling his almost-empty wine glass in one hand. She put aside her cutlery and took the last sip of her own drink a few minutes later and looked up to find him watching her.

"Would you care for dessert?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Thanks, but I don't think I could eat another thing. That was delicious."

"It was," he agreed, draining the last of his wine and setting the glass back on the table.

Hermione's nerves, which had vanished some time before dinner, returned suddenly now, as she wondered what would happen next.

Severus seemed to sense her sudden apprehension, though, because he stood and extended one hand to her.

"Come," he said. "Let's sit for a while."

She allowed him to lead her over to the couch, and she toed off her shoes and socks and shrugged out of her outer robe so she could curl up next to him. Instead, she ended up lying along the length of the couch with her head in his lap, looking up at him as he wound the fingers of one hand through her hair again. His other found its way to rest on her stomach, the warmth of his palm penetrating the thin fabric of her shirt.

"I've missed this," she murmured, covering his hand with one of hers.

Usually content just to sit, talking or reading or simply lost in their own thoughts, tonight both of them were unwilling to sit idly after the precious little time they'd had together lately.

Severus' hand moved from under hers, finding its way up under the hem of her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her stomach. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of his slightly calloused hand moving over her body, sending delicious tingles of pleasure radiating from every inch of skin he touched.

She squirmed against him when his fingers found a ticklish spot over her ribs, and he chuckled as she pushed his hands away and sat up, kneeling next to him instead. He raised an eyebrow and, on impulse, she moved again, placed her hands on his shoulders for balance and threw one leg over his to sit in his lap.

His eyes darkened at the suggestive pose, and she hid her self-conscious blush by leaning up to kiss him. He murmured something appreciative but incoherent against her lips, and she felt his hands move up under her shirt again. Hermione set about extracting the bottom of his shirt from his pants, eager to feel the smooth skin of his back beneath her hands.

The languid, aimless kissing gradually turned into something more urgent as the need grew in both of them. Somehow, they managed to end up lying side by side on the narrow couch, her back flat against the backrest and the length of his body leaning against her, lest he roll backwards and end up on the floor.

She could feel his hardness against her, and he was making no effort to hide it tonight. Emboldened, she shifted her hips to rub against him, and was rewarded with a deep groan which vibrated through his lips against the skin of her neck and sent a throb of desire down between her legs.

In a sudden shift of reality, Hermione knew what she wanted, and as his mouth moved up to capture hers again, she finally found the courage to ask for it.

Pulling away from his lips for a moment, she whispered, "Take me to bed, Severus."

Another soft groan broke from him, and he buried his head in her neck, his breath like fire on her skin. "Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he said hoarsely.

"As long as I've been working up the courage?" she guessed. "You didn't have to wait."

"I had to hear you say it," he said. "I had to be sure."

She drew back a fraction so she could focus on his eyes; they were dark with a barely contained hunger.

"Are you sure now?" she asked.

"Very," he replied.

Standing up, he extended his hand to her again. Hermione took a deep breath, willing her legs to hold her as she accepted his proffered hand and stood up. He didn't release her as he led her across the room, only dropping her hand when he pushed open the bedroom door and gestured for her to precede him into the room.

Drawing another breath, she stepped past him, over the threshold and into the darkened room.

Hermione jumped slightly as the door clicked shut behind them, and she heard Severus murmur a quiet spell.

The torches in the wall sconces either side of the bed flared to life, throwing a warm orange glow across the room. It looked no different, really, than any other of the countless nights she had stayed with him... but she knew tonight would be different, and that thought saw the nervous fluttering return to the pit of her stomach again.

She bit her lip, feigning interest in the room before her rather than turning back to Severus. After a moment, she felt him step close behind her, and his breath was warm on her neck as he wrapped his arms around her.

"No rules, remember?" he murmured, as though he could sense her sudden tenseness.

She relaxed somewhat just from those few words, and he pushed her hair aside and began to kiss the soft skin of her neck. The patch of skin just below her ear was one of the most sensitive spots on her body; she knew it, and he knew it... and he used that knowledge to his full advantage.

She leant back into him, grasping the arm still clamped firmly around her waist for support as her knees grew weak. Her other hand came up to tangle in his hair, and she pulled his head away from her neck, guiding his lips up to meet her own.

Twisting around in his arms without breaking apart, she traced a path around his lips with her tongue before delving deeper into his mouth. His strong, earthy smell was filling her nose as she breathed deeply, but he tasted like roast beef and the sharp tang of the red wine he had been drinking.

It was intoxicating; the mere taste of the wine was making her head spin... or was that because of the way his own tongue was caressing her lips, tasting her even as she tasted him; the way his hand was splayed across her back, pulling her tightly to him; or the way he was pressed tightly against her, his erection hot and hard between them?

She wasn't even aware they had moved at all until the back of her knees hit something soft, and she realised she was standing beside the bed.

Her hands were still roaming up and down his back, under his shirt which she had finally managed to untuck, but now she wanted to see what she was touching, too. She pulled back from him and reached up to the first, tiny button at the top of the long row on his shirt. Her fingers were clumsy, and by the third button she was quickly becoming frustrated.

"There must be an easier way to do this," she groused. "Why did you have to wear this particular shirt?"

Laughter rumbled up from deep in his chest.

"Just because I enjoy your frustration."

She glared up at him. "It might be more enjoyable for you if I can get it off quickly, you know," she countered.

Her words seemed to have the desired effect, because he pushed her hands aside and reached for the bottom button himself. Undone in an instant, the whole row of buttons fell open at once, and Hermione gaped up at him in astonishment.

"It's a useful trick," he commented, smirking at her stunned expression. "Not many people think to start from the bottom."

"Very Slytherin," she agreed. "I'll have to remember that one."

She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, thankful the charm seemed to have undone the cuffs, too. He caught the shirt in one hand before it fell to the floor, and tossed it behind him, where it landed over the back of the chair by the window, some distance away.

Returning her hands to his bare shoulders, she sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled him closer. He stepped forwards to stand between her parted knees, and she found herself staring at his chest. She traced a finger through the sparse hair over his breastbone, then reached up to circle one of his flat, dark nipples.

A soft gasp came from above as the soft pad of her finger brushed over the small, hard nub, and she grinned to herself, filing the information away for future reference.

She switched to the other nipple, delighted to earn the same reaction. Looking up at his face, her hands stilled, watching him in wonder. His head was tilted back, eyes closed, and his mouth was hanging slightly open as he breathed unsteadily.

Realising she had stopped moving her hands, he cracked one eye open and looked down at her. Swallowing thickly, he said, "It seems you have found my weakness, just as I have found yours."

He raised one hand to lightly touch her neck, and she shivered.

"Now," he murmured, looking down at his exposed torso, and then back at her. "I believe you are wearing far too many clothes for my liking."

Hoisting herself up completely onto the bed, she scooted backwards across it and gave Severus a wicked grin.

"Are you going to do something about that?" she asked, lying back and propping her arms behind her head. Absently, she felt the rune pendant around her neck slip around to her nape, hidden from view.

Narrowing his eyes, he climbed onto the bed, too, moving across on his knees until he was looming over her.

"I believe I might," he said softly, and his eyes locked with hers as he reached for the top button of her shirt.

Not too long after that, Hermione found herself lost in the rush of sensations his mouth was eliciting as it moved over her naked body. His fingers traced the dips and curves of her torso, every invisible path made by the long digits followed by a brush of his lips or a sweep of his tongue.

He shifted back from her then, trailing his gaze down her body, taking in every detail.

Feeling slightly self-conscious, though his gaze was anything but critical, she said, "Now who's wearing too many clothes?"

Raising an eyebrow, he backed off the bed and stood a short distance away. She turned on her side to watch him, propping her head up on one elbow. Her eyes drifted appreciatively over his form, the pale skin set aglow in the soft light from the torches.

She felt she already knew every inch of his upper body, both by sight and touch; the wiry strength of his thin frame, the contour of his flat stomach and the ridges of his jutting ribs... she would never tire of looking at him.

Her breath caught in her throat as his hands moved over the line of buttons on his trousers, and she found she couldn't tear her gaze away as his long fingers undid each one. Slowly, he pushed the trousers down over the plane of his hips and allowed them to drop to the floor. Stepping out of them, he kicked them aside and bent down to remove his socks.

He straightened again, standing before her in only a pair of charcoal grey cotton trunks, which hugged the top of his thighs deliciously and did nothing to conceal what lay in between.

His eyes never left hers as he pushed the trunks down his legs and to the floor. Pushing them aside with one foot as he stepped out of them, he stood before her, proud and unabashedly naked, his arms at his sides.

Hermione swallowed thickly and allowed her gaze to travel slowly down his body, taking in every detail she could in the soft glow that lit the room. She had traced the beginning of the line of hair starting just below his navel before, always stopping where it disappeared into the waistband of his trousers or sleep pants. Now, though, it continued on, and she felt a warmth suffuse her entire body as she saw the evidence of his desire for her.

Forcing herself to look away and meet his eyes, she saw that although they were sparkling with mirth at her appraisal, but nothing could hide the pure need burning in their depths.

"Is everything to my lady's satisfaction?" he enquired, raising one eyebrow.

A cheeky reply, something along the lines of, Not yet, crossed her mind, but she found that outwardly she could only nod.

Seeing him – all of him – for the first time made her feel so young and inexperienced again... and inadequate. In a sudden moment of embarrassment, she looked away from him and lifted her arms to cover her exposed breasts.

"Don't."

The single word halted her, and she looked up at him again as he took her arms and pulled them gently down to rest by her sides again.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione; don't hide yourself from me," he said in a low voice. His eyes drifted down from her face again, and she shivered as he traced the underside of one breast with the tip of a single finger.

She nodded wordlessly, her eyes locked with his before he bent his head to kiss her again.

His kisses always had the potential to leave Hermione breathless, but now, with the heightened awareness of skin on skin, she found herself overwhelmed by sensation almost to the point of incoherence. She barely registered them moving back towards the bed until she felt the cool caress of the duvet beneath her and realised she was already lying down.

He had yet to break their kiss, bracing himself above her with one hand and running the other over her body. When his wandering fingers brushed the clasp at the back of her neck, though, and he drew back to concentrate on removing it, she whispered, "Leave it."

"You need protection from me?" he murmured, shifting to lie beside her and pulling her over to face him.

She shook her head.

"I've worn it everywhere since Christmas," she explained softly. "Except for when... well, I got it back after what happened in the dungeons, and I haven't taken it off again."

The warmth vanished from his eyes for an instant, but returned so quickly she thought she might have imagined its absence.

Saying nothing more, he moved his hand to the elastic in her hair, mindful of it frequently snagging in the tangle of curls as he pulled it out. He ran one hand lightly up and down her side from shoulder to hip, gazing at her pensively. She squirmed slightly every time he passed the ticklish spot on her rib, but bit her tongue to keep from giggling under the seriousness of his gaze. She knew, if she was silent for long enough, he would voice whatever was on his mind.

Sure enough, after only a few short moments, he leant over and kissed her forehead, murmuring, "What I ever did to deserve you... I'll never know."

She knew it was a rhetorical question – who would have ever predicted the chain of events which had brought them to this moment? But she still felt compelled to say something.

"You let me into your life," she said softly. "You trusted me enough to let me see beyond the man everyone expects you to be... how could I not have fallen in love with you?"

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he took her chin in one hand, tracing her lips with his thumb.

"You are..." he began, pausing as he struggled for the right words, "...extraordinary."

She smiled and kissed the pad of his thumb, then leant up to brush her lips on his, softly and tenderly. He embraced her fiercely, deepening the kiss into one of pure longing.

An urgency rose strong in Hermione, and she pulled over him, relishing the warmth and weight of him all but smothering her smaller frame. Somehow he had reached for his wand, and Hermione felt the brief tingle of a contraceptive spell flutter through the pit of her stomach.

Then they were moving together, a momentary stab of pain vanishing as pleasure took its place. She could see nothing but the deep, dark depths of his eyes as she grasp for purchase on his sweat-slicked back.

The musky smell of sweat and arousal, mingled with Severus' own familiar scent was overwhelming her olfactory senses, and she could feel a tightly-coiled sensation building deep within her.

As his movements began more urgent, the pleasant buzzing in her stomach built to a crescendo, her whole body thrumming with the feel of him inside her and all around her.

His breath was coming in sharp grunts in time with his movements, which were becoming increasingly erratic, and his hair was spilling forwards like a dark curtain around his face.

"Fuck, Hermione," he groaned, his voice raw with effort and desire, his breath hot on her face.

Somehow, such lewd words falling from his lips proved his loss of control even more surely than his erratic movements, and the thought that she had brought him to the very edge of lucidity sent Hermione to a place far beyond her own.

Her eyes widened, but her vision closed in to pinpoint on his own eyes, so dark she couldn't tell where the pupil finished and the iris began. She heard a voice nearby, but hardly realised was her own, chanting his name over and over.

Then, she could hold his gaze no longer, and let her eyes drift shut as she threw her head back and cried his name aloud.

Through her incoherent haze of feeling, she became aware that he too, was close to the end, and she forced herself to open her eyes again and watch him.

His whole body was slick with sweat, tiny droplets beading across his face as he fought a losing battle to prolong the inevitable.

"Let it go, Severus," she breathed between shaky gasps.

At her words, he did, and the sight of him finally losing control was breathtaking; she could do nothing but stare at him in wonderment as his face contorted into an expression of absolute euphoria.

"Oh, Hermione," he moaned, her name sending an aftershock of pleasure shooting through her body.

His arms were shaking when he collapsed on top of her. He only left his full weight on her long enough to take a deep breath, though, and then gathered her in his arms and rolled over until she was lying half beside and half on top of him, their legs entwined.

Trying to calm her racing heart, she pillowed her head on his chest. A haze of sated, boneless exhaustion was beginning to creep over her, and she found she could do nothing more energetic than trace a lone finger over the sweat-slicked skin near his collarbone.

She could hear Severus' heart thudding beneath her ear and feel the heat radiating from his body. One of his hands was gently caressing her hair as the other draped over her waist, holding her to him in the most intimate of embraces.

"All right?" she heard him murmur lethargically. She had no idea how long they had been laying in silent languor, and she twisted her head up to look at him. His lips were still swollen, his face slightly flushed, and her overwhelming desire to kiss him again was dampened only by the heaviness in her limbs.

"Yes," she whispered, settling for kissing the part of him she could reach, and a tremor ran through his body as she blew softly on the damp skin of his chest.

After some time, Severus roused enough to move again. Retrieving his wand, he cast a quiet cleansing charm, which sent a waft of cool air across her bare skin and caused her to shiver involuntarily. Another soft murmured spell brought the duvet out from under them, and he extinguished the torches on the wall as he set his wand back on the nightstand.

Pulling the duvet up over their legs, he caught her mouth in a soft kiss and then settled back and drew her close again, both of them slipping back into a drowsy afterglow of contentment.

"Severus?" she said after some minutes.

"Hmm?" he murmured, his breath stirring the hair on the crown of her head.

"Can we do that again some time?"

A soft chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, vibrating against her ear.

"Any time you like, my love."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, her hand stilling its light caress of random circles across his chest.

"Say that again," she whispered.

There was a long pause, and then he wrapped one arm more tightly around her back, kissed her forehead and said, "Sleep, Hermione."

She shifted against him, curling one bare leg around his, and then fell into silence and thinking. She knew he loved her, though he had never spoken the words aloud, but had she hoped that tonight might break more than one barrier between them, that he would say it in so many words?

Hermione sighed. He didn't need to say it; if she hadn't known it before tonight, there was no doubt in her mind now. What would words express that their actions tonight couldn't?

Nothing.

Some time later, just as sleep was taking hold, Hermione felt him tighten his arms around her again, and her hair was stirred by a soft exhalation of breath, one she could have sworn concealed two words... "My love."


To be continued

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed!

Eternal gratitude and a blow-up, velour-covered Snape doll to Potion Mistress, the most fantabulous beta I could ever hope for. Without her help, suggestions and encouragement, this story (and particularly this chapter) would be an absolute mess. Remaining mistakes still belong to me.

I've found myself using song lyrics for chapter titles again, so, before anyone asks, 'Maybe Tonight' is the winner's single from Australian Idol 2005 – one of those wonderfully clichéd power ballads which I secretly play when I think no one else is listening. By complete and utter spooky coincidence – it only occurred to me today – the chorus of Evanescence's Before the Dawn (the song that inspired me to start writing this monster in the first place) says, 'Maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away, we'll be lost before the dawn'.