Ooh, lookee, another chapter :D

Thanks for all the reviews, follows and faves! And this next one is a tad M-ish...

Professor Snape stared at her and she felt her heart catch in her throat. The word "Impossible" burst from him.

She blinked. "Why?"

"I do not sleep with virgins, Miss Granger."

How had she missed something so key to the magical world? Their own strange variant on sex education. Yet more Hogwarts didn't teach. How was she supposed to pick this up? By osmosis? But then sex had never been her first –hardly her fifth— concern. She'd spent her time mooning over Ron and had planned to sleep with him…at some point.

Even after Harry defeated Voldemort, the idea of Ron as her first was firmly in place. She wasn't bowled over by him by that stage, but she'd always felt that she should get sex out of the way. And Ron was there, and seemed to want to have sex with her, at least.

Then it all changed.

She took a sip of her whiskey and forced back a cough as it stung her mouth and gullet. Tears burned her eyes. "Are only certain wizards allowed?"

"It is my personal preference."

Golden light gilded him, warming his still-pale skin and shining in his curtain of black hair. He looked healthier, the lack of stress and Mrs Weasley packing enough food in him to choke a horse, had put meat back onto his bones, as her mother would've said. He was now all lithe elegance and immaculate dress. Not handsome…but she often found it difficult not to stare at him. Some days –especially when the Prophet delved into his practically debauched lifestyle— he was mesmerising.

"What would it take to convince you?"

For a moment, his lips lifted and a spark of humour lit his obsidian eyes. "Miss Granger—"

She'd never thought to ever have this conversation with him. But now she was and she would not give up her chance. Possibly the only one she had to have this man. She'd wanted him since Mrs Weasley had dragged away and vanished the first paper to delve into his 'disgusting summer hobby' as Ron's mother called it. And Snape had looked at her, with the promise of untold pleasure caught in his gaze and her flesh had throbbed. Actually throbbed.

In that second, her lukewarm infatuation with Ron died.

"What would I have to do? For you to be my first lover. Tell me."

"I will not discuss this."

She sank back in her chair, the glass close to her mouth. The sharp scents of the alcohol burned her senses. "Ron will have exploded out there. He can't hold his own water, on a good day. You will now be known to be…fucking me." She lost her confidence on the word and felt herself redden. Shit.

Snape huffed out a laugh. "Hanged for a dragon as an egg? You think I should take on the job for which I am already damned?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's an idea."

He shook his head. "I stand by my recommendation."

She pressed her lips together, fighting the unexpected tightness of her chest. Her confidence shrivelled. She had thought that he'd at least found her attractive. He'd defended her to Ron when he said those awful words. Fuck, didn't she even rate a…a pity fuck from him?

Her glass clattered to the table and she stood. Her hands were fists. She didn't want Kingsley-fucking-Shacklebolt. She wanted him.

"Miss Granger…" He'd put his own glass down and rose from his chair.

Shit, he was too close. His body heat, his strong, physical presence, the scent of books, of herbs caught her and her heart clenched. She stepped back from him. "I understand, sir." Her throat was tight and her eyes burned. Damn him. She would not cry over and in front of bloody Severus Snape. "Few have obviously shown interest in me. You are not one. I totally understand."

"You do not understand." His hand cupped her face and she gasped, the rough warmth of his palm spiralling down into her growing panic. "Find me again. After."

She closed her eyes and a tear broke free. His thumb brushed it away. Was it not the wizarding way to share something as precious as her first time with someone she wanted as well as respected and admired? "I want you." She pressed her lips together and willed back the ache to her eyes. "Would it be so bad? Honestly? I'm a very quick learner. You'd hardly know…"

Snape drew in a deepened breath, his hand falling away. "Damn it, girl."

"A kiss, and if there's no spark, I won't bother you again." She frowned at him. "And no slacking."

"Bossy little minx."

She straightened her shoulders. "I have kissed before, Professor."

"Severus."

Her heart missed a beat. Did that mean he had accepted her offer? She ignored the quick hot rush of panic in her flesh. She had kissed before. A handful of times. Shit. Twice. She wanted to smack herself. How was she nineteen and so clueless?

He loomed over her and she forgot how to breathe. So close. Her mouth dried and the fierce need to wet her lips, to close the few inches that separated them beat in her blood. She could almost taste him, the firm line of his lips filling her vision.

She lifted her chin, her heart thudding. But he was still, frozen, a statue of tempting, unmoving flesh. "Please, Severus..."

"What do you require of me, witch?"

His whiskey-sweetened breath brushed over her lips and her hands fisted at her sides. Her pulse drummed. Did he want her to make the first move? To kiss him? She'd never... She'd always been the one to be kissed. The whole two times. Something unexpected, the reaction of a moment. Whether Victor snatching a breathless kiss in the shadows of the Great Hall. Or Ron's fierce liplock in middle of the Battle of Hogwarts.

Damn it, why did she think Severus Snape -amongst all wizards- would make something easy? But she wanted him. Lust and admiration had been a wild mix in her blood the whole of the summer. And fuck-it-all, she was a Gryffindor.

She smirked at him, echoing something he would turn on her. "You'll desire me, after this, Severus Snape." Fighting the nervous tremor in her hand, she drew her fingers along his jaw, feeling the day's growth pushing through his skin. "I'll leave you so hard..." her mouth brushed over his, her teeth grazing his bottom lip. The taste of him almost drove her eyes shut, "...your dick could drill a hole in the wall."

"Such language, Miss Granger." His velvet whisper scorched her mouth, his lips almost, almost catching hers.

"Hermione." She pressed her hand to his chest, supporting her body as she lifted herself up on her toes. Solid muscle met her palm. And honestly, had he always been this tall? "I'm going to strip for you." She kissed his parted mouth, her tongue licking his upper lip. "A slow tease, revealing skin untouched by...the sun." Fuck. She'd almost said 'man', but he wanted experience. She sucked on his lower lip, her hand fisting the material of his frockcoat. "Imagine me naked," she murmured. "Firm thighs spread. Ready for you. Ready to take. To fuck."

Snape growled and his mouth came down over hers. Her third kiss. No, she was counting this as her first. His long fingers threaded through her wild hair, cupping her head at the perfect angle to ravage her. His other hand gripped her hip and held her hard against him. His erection pressed into her belly.

Her head swam. She'd done that. Her touch, her words. She moaned as his expert tongue found hers, tasting, teasing, his lips sure. She clung to him, melting her body against his, her fingers in his hair and absolutely fucking positive that Kingsley Shacklebolt couldn't kiss her like this. Not for one second—

"Severus Snape! In the name of Merlin, what you doing with that girl?"

Mrs Weasley's strident voice sliced through Hermione's fierce moment of bliss. The man holding her stilled, his mouth hot over hers, his grip unyielding. He drew back a fraction and she missed his warmth, the hard press of him from thigh to mouth. Hermione fixed her gaze on his throat, on the hint of the Nagini's savage bite above the starched whiteness of his collar. Snape lifted his face and looked to the angered witch behind Hermione.

"It would appear," Snape's hand slipped from her hip to her backside. He squeezed and Hermione yelped, "I'm doing whatever I want."

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