I couldn't let the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts pass without a post. :)

I am still working on the Malfoy Ball part of this wip, but I have deadlines and an editor waiting *eep* so I need to focus on my demons for a while longer. And this interlude was inspired by doctorhodes's comment, as she pointed out this was missing from Hermione's education.

M ahead :)

"Severus, I'm not ready for this!"

Hermione burst into the sitting room, her hair wild and sparking with magic. She wore only a thin, linen shift and Gret was in her wake, ears flattened, wringing his long hands and whimpering.

"Master Snape, sir…" Gret's luminous eyes gleamed with tears and his spindly hands tightened into a complicated knot. "I promise, Gret is only wanting the best for Miss. There are…tasks I must complete to prepare Miss. It is expected."

Severus stroked the page of his book with a long finger, marking it and placed it on the table beside his armchair. He stood. "Everything is perfectly all right, Gret. I will calm Miss Granger."

Gret sucked in a sob and popped as he vanished from the room.

Severus cupped Hermione's shoulders. She was shaking. "Hermione…" He kept his voice soft and low. He'd heard about her panic attacks before exams, though never had he witnessed one. Still the plan he had to solve this particular episode would be considered extremely…unorthodox. "You are ready."

"But I'm a fraud! I'll forget everything. I have the grace and beauty of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. A blind, half-mad one. And I should know. I've ridden—"

She squeaked at the brush of his lips over hers. "No."

Hermione blinked. "No?"

His hand slipped down her bare arm and she shivered at the light and deliberate brush of his fingertips over her bare skin. His fingers folded through hers. "Come with me."

Her belly gave a little flip and she padded after him into the corridor and along to his bedroom. She stopped breathing at that point, her cheeks heating. "Severus?"

"I've realised," he murmured, his voice still that delicious rumble that slid under her flesh and made clear thinking quite…difficult, "that I've been rather remiss in my tutelage."

He opened the door to his bedroom and the familiar scents of him, of cedar and spices sank blissfully into her. The door closed behind her with a definite click and she fought not to squeak. Again.

"You came to me totally untouched." Something moved in his gaze that she couldn't read. "Completely. Even my your own hand."

Her scattering thoughts sharpened. Did he expect her to masturbate, on his bed, in front of him? She was certain she was red from the tips of hair to her daintily painted toenails. "I…"

"You should know your own body, if you are to take pleasure with another's." His dark eyes held her. "But…since we are short on time this afternoon, I will…lend a hand."

"You…?"

But he was already removing his boots and socks. His shirt untucked and he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. In short order, he was relaxed against the headboard on his wide bed. He lifted an eyebrow. "This would be easier if you removed your dress."

Hermione glanced at the windows, the final light of the winter's day cutting through the muslin curtains. They were magical, reflecting the winter starkness of Kensington Gardens…so no one would see her. Her insides churned. She wanted this. Wanted him to chase joy through her flesh. But still… It was the middle of the afternoon.

Severus made a show of closing his eyes and she glared at him. "There. I can't see you. Disrobe, sit with your back to me and let us begin."

"This is awkward," she muttered, tugging the thin dress over her head, untangling it from her hair and dropping it onto a chair. His eyes remained closed as she crawled across the bed and sat between his parted legs. She jumped and bit her lip at the slow stroke of his fingers across her bare shoulder.

"Relax, Hermione." He cupped her upper arms and eased her against his chest. The warm, smoothness of his shirt brushed her skin and she sighed, even as the traitorous little curl of heat coiled in her belly. His lips brushed her ear. "I will be your hands today."

Hermione sucked in a breath, her thoughts already swirling. She'd expected something later, after the party. Not now. That had been a part of her anxiety. Wanting him, wondering if he would take her virginity…and now this.

"Why did you never…distract yourself this way?"

Severus light touch traced down her arms, slipping upwards on the unexpectedly sensitive inner planes. Her breath hitched. Or was it simply him, his touch?

"You are inquisitive and passionate. Did your own body not call out to you, ache for relief?"

Hermione's eyes closed, her head against his shoulder, her neck exposed to his mouth, his breath and that voice that caressed her as surely as his hands. The anxiety of the ball fell away. No, she had a much more interesting curl of emotion building in her flesh. "I never thought about it. Everything else was so much more important." She huffed out a laugh. "I was often exhausted, my head caught with theories, with plans."

"Viktor Krum?"

She imagined that edge to his voice, because, well, she wanted it there. If she could experience the sharp spike of jealousy over his numerous witches –and she was not dwelling on Madam Athcasta— then let him have a moment's doubt over her feelings for Viktor. "He was…physical."

"Was he?"

Severus' thumb drew a line over the slope of her breast to tease around her tightened nipple and she gasped, arching into his touch. "And yet," he murmured, "you are here."

"There was little finesse."

The word came out on a squeak as his fingertip found her taut nipple. A jagged line of heat swept down to her core and she couldn't help pressing her thighs together. Her belly quivered. This was what Victor could never achieve with his single sloppy kiss and meaty hands grabbing her backside.

"And you thought that I would have more patience? More technique?"

"I've watched you hands for years, Severus."

Hermione hissed in a sharp breath. His hot palm pressed against her belly, the tips of his long, elegant fingers teasing her mons. Her gaze fixed on them. She had watched him. Had marvelled at his precision, the care, the patience that he found as he brewed or cast a spell. And in a quiet corner of her mind –especially in her Sixth Year— she had pondered where else he could practice such…dedication.

His lips brushed her ribbon, a murmured spell heating it, and she almost arched against him at the sudden fire beneath her skin.

"Easy…" His voice was dark and molten. "Feel."

And gods –there— over her mons, a thrum, a low vibration. She stared at his hand and sucked in a tight breath as his fingers dipped lower, lower…until that delicious thrum stroked over her clitoris.

Hermione mewled, twisting turning against the riot of sensation searing through her flesh. Severus' hard thighs gripped her hips, his hand now squeezing her breast, his thumb flicking her tight nipple. But his fingers… Her hands gripped his thighs. Every inch of her skin burned, her flesh ached, too much, too much…and not nearly enough.

She wet dried lips, panting against the fierce tension gripping her body. "Severus, please…"

"Was this what you wanted, witch? You're so wet, Hermione. Aching."

His breath heated the shell of her ear, his lips teasing her. And his voice… She closed her eyes. The thrum against her clit deepened and she rolled her hips, driving him against her, quicker. Harder. She was close. So close…

"The least touch. Imagine when I take you. When I finally fuck you—"

Hermione came, shuddering, crying out his name, her fingers biting into his thighs before she slumped back against him. A laugh broke from her. Ball? What ball? Who cared about a pile of snotty purebloods when she could feel this good? "Gods, Severus…"

His name was a whisper, almost a benediction and something fisted in his chest. Lucius was right. All her first memories would be of him, how he touched her, taught her, how he wrung the first great pleasures from her flesh. Others might equal it –or, he very much doubted, surpass it— but this moment was his. His.

"Severus…?"

She turned over, curling into him and his arms tightened around her soft, heated body. He hmmn'd into her hair, not trusting himself to speak.

"How would that spell work on you?"

He gave a soft laugh, but the sudden ache in his dick almost, almost made him thrust against her. She was pressed to him, hot even through the layers of material that separated him from her.

However, he had promised. He would devote time to taking her virginity. He was well aware that other Mentoris took their charges as the ribbon sealed their Agreement…and the rest of their time became about technique. But he, he wanted Hermione to ache for him.

Because he was a bastard like that.

As ever, let me know what you think! :)