Chapter 7

Whatever excuses Severus might have been concocting through the night, that involved waking early, sneaking quietly out of bed and heading to the private lab, leaving nothing but his apologies in a note, flew out of the window faster than a speeding delivery owl when he truly awoke, looked over, and saw the ethereal nymph that had been gifted to him.

Miss Granger lay on her back, arms above her head with her copious hair falling in dangerously-alluring curls around her hands. One sight of her bared breasts, those pert tits with the rosy pink nipples that he was now getting his first proper sight of, convinced him that cowardice would not be the best option in this situation, and that he'd made his bed, so to speak, he would be one stupid fucking bastard not to lie in it.

Severus couldn't help himself, and more to the point, he didn't want to. Why the hell should he? He'd given his mind, body and soul to achieve the peace the wizarding world now enjoyed, why should he continue to deny himself, continue to feel unworthy? He had more than proved his worth, and if the fruits of his labour were finally being offered, he was damn well going to take them.

If he got fired, he genuinely didn't care anymore – twenty years of minimal expenses whilst resident at the school meant that his Gringotts vault was fuller than most wizards of his age, he had no children, no dependents. Yes, Severus Snape could do was he fucking well liked, for the first time in thirty-eight years.

So, he tasted. All his life, he had dreamed of taking a witch's nipple in his mouth, suckling deeply, arousing her as he comforted himself with the most basic of touches, the most instinctive from a mother to a child, the most erotic between a man and a woman. He sealed his lips over the girl's firm breast, mouthing the soft flesh and swirling his tongue hungrily around her nipple, speeding his strokes as he felt her awaken and begin to move under his touch.

"Oh …" he heard her whisper, and felt a sleepy hand move down to tousle gently in his hair.

"Good morning," he rumbled, around her nipple, unwilling to remove himself from his treat.

"That feels really good."

At her words of affirmation, Severus suckled deeper, adding his hand to her other breast, hefting the warm mound in his palm and flickering his finger around the nipple, trying to make it as erect as the one in his mouth. He had missed this, playing meaningfully with the girl's tits, last night, finding himself having full sex with her before either of them had removed their upper garments. Well, he would make up for that, now.

At length, he kissed up to her neck, seeking her mouth, covering her lips with his wet ones, wishing her a good morning in the best way he could think of, having never woken up with a witch in his bed, let alone one as young and as succulent as Miss Granger. He encircled her with his arms, allowing his hands to run riot over her nakedness, not able to touch enough of her soft body to satisfy him.

"You don't regret anything, then?" she asked, pushing back from him a little, twirling the black hair on his chest.

He regarded her, looking down his long nose and wondering what the fuck she was doing here. He could see what was in it for himself, but for her? What was she getting out of this transaction?

"I am quite sure, Granger, that I shall regret everything. However, I find myself hard pressed to care when your body is warming my bed."

"Let's not discuss it, then," she replied, cheekily, dropping a quick kiss on his lips, as naturally as if she'd done just that, a thousand times before.

"That suits me," he mumbled, seeking her mouth again to resume the kiss, nudging her leg with his morning erection, quite intentionally.

"Do you want to do it again?" she asked, nudging him right back.

"Only if you are not sore," he replied, dropping his hand eagerly between her legs and pushing her thighs apart, stroking two fingers the length of her slit.

"I, um, I think I feel okay, but I suppose I won't know until we start."

Severus began to massage her pussy with three fingers, gradually opening her up, teasing her clitoris out from hiding to get the girl's juices to start flowing again. She had been as wet as anything last night, just from his touch, so clearly Granger had been left wanting for quite some time, if her reaction to his advances were any indicator. Even in the corridor, when he had caught her out after curfew, the slightest sensual touch had been enough to leave her panting.

Idiot boys, he thought. If he were Potter or Weasley he'd have sniffed her inherent, natural sexuality out years ago, and secured this witch for himself. As it was, their loss was his gain.

Using touch alone, since their lower halves were still under the bedcovers, he continued to masturbate her, knowing that to have her aroused and wet would ease his path inside, and cause her the least pain, for he knew his cock was large, and her hymen was still recently broken and liable to be sore.

As Granger became more lost in her own pleasure, and her kisses became more disjointed, Severus bent his dark head to her breast once again, taking the sweet tit in his mouth and suckling, circling her erect nipple roughly with his sharp tongue. He felt her hips move against his wrist, driving him faster, and he did not leave her wanting, shuffling his fingers more rapidly until she clutched his bare back, gasping out her orgasm as he felt it drip from her, warm fluid in which he dabbled his fingertip.

"Oh, gosh …" she panted, scratching his skin.

"Indeed," he replied, inhaling deeply through his wide nostrils as he climbed atop her, quite astonished that this appeared to be happening for a second time.

Not trusting himself to find the right place without a little guidance, Severus used his hand to fold the rounded head of his cock inside her, before sliding the rest in, slowly. The speed was partly for her, to avoid hurting her, but also, if he was honest, mostly for himself, to enjoy the blissfully-slow sensation of exquisite tightening around his neglected dick as he entered her.

"Bloody Merlin, Granger," he hissed, as he drew out and them pushed back in again. "You feel phenomenal, girl. I could fuck you … endlessly."

-xxx-

Hermione laid her hands on his bare shoulders, enjoying the ripples of his lean, sinewy muscles under her palms as he made love to her, his hips a slow grind as he wound them into her, his cock stretching her insides with a most delicious ache. And Merlin, she was aching, but somehow it wasn't painful, she wanted to welcome him again, wanted the feeling of being filled so completely that the sensation took her out of herself, took away the numbness that she'd been feeling and replaced it with life, and excitement and promise.

She watched him, for he was still finding his rhythm, just as she was. She watched as he closed his eyes on the instroke, keeping himself deep inside her for a second, before opening them as he pulled back, his piercing black eyes roving her face, full of desire and approval. Hermione had wanted to see that look on Professor Snape's face for seven long years, and now finally, she had it.

"You are beautiful."

It was such a simple statement, but coming from such lips as his, it was infused with every emotion that his words could not convey, Hermione was sure of it.

"Thank you," she whispered, lifting a hand to his face and threading her fingers through his hair, observing his striking features - so angular, so distinctive. "So are you."

And she meant it, even when she saw the look of disagreement flash across his face. Professor Snape could never be described as a handsome wizard, but yet his aquiline profile, capable lips and devastatingly expressive eyes made him a prize, in her opinion. And since she was fucking him, hers was the only opinion that counted.

"I am afraid this is not going to last long, little witch," he apologised, grimacing as he sped the thrusting movements of his hips. "You are too tempting, and I am too unpracticed."

In response, Hermione stroked her hands firmly down his back, feeling the ridges of uneven skin under her fingers, and gripped his flanks, guiding and accepting the curve of his spine as he heaved against her. Snape allowed his head to drop between her neck and shoulder, and Hermione could feel his breathing hot and heavy as he pumped into her, his teeth gnashing together as he let his climax loose with a shout, and a long groan, keeping his dick pressed tight inside as it pulsed with his orgasm.

The bell for Sunday breakfast rang, loud and clanging, echoing from the corridor.

They looked at each other, uncertain for a few seconds, and then she laughed, breaking the tension.

"Saved by the bell," she observed, wryly.

"If that bell had rung a second sooner I would have permanently removed its clapper so that it could never fucking disturb me again," Snape groused, withdrawing his penis from her and sitting up.

"I have to go to breakfast, don't I?" Hermione asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"As much as I would like to sweep you into the shower with me, since I am sure you are just as dirty as I am, I believe it would be prudent for at least one of us to attend breakfast in the Great Hall."

"I didn't go yesterday," she retorted, remembering that she and Neville had both ordered breakfast in their rooms, laughing about how funny it was.

"You did not?"

"No. Myself and the other returning students have found it great fun to order food through the fireplaces in our rooms."

"Well then," he answered, a raised eyebrow making his face look sinfully wicked. "I suggest that excuse will suffice for one more breakfast, at least."

Hermione smiled, not wanting to go anywhere outside of these chambers.

"Is that an invitation to your shower?" she asked.

"It is, indeed. But before we do anything further, allow me to cast a very important charm that we have both neglected, thus far."

He took his wand from the bedside table and held it to her abdomen, casting an unknown incantation that sent a warm shiver through her belly.

"Did you feel that?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Was that a contraceptive charm?"

"It was. It is effective for twenty-four hours both pre and post intercourse. I do not believe that a baby would be a suitable souvenir of our evening together."

She grinned.

"Thank you. I didn't even think about it."

"Neither did I until this moment, and that is irresponsible. We should have both known better."

"It's ok. You've cast it, now."

Snape rolled off the bed, padding naked across his bedchamber to the adjoining bathroom, and Hermione heard the shower being set to run, and the distinct sound of him using the toilet. He stepped out of the room, wiping his hands on a dark green towel.

"Should I presume that you wish to use the toilet before showering?"

Oh goodness, yes. She slipped past him, closing the bathroom door and heading straight for the loo, noticing a thin trail of blood as she wiped. Hermione shrugged. That was to be expected. Unlocking the door, she opened it a small way before being enticed by the shower, which was large, much bigger than the tiny one she had in her own room. She stepped beneath the heavy jet of water, soaking her hair so that it ran straight down her back, her sore muscles enjoying the pounding of the warm water upon them.

"Starting without me, Miss Granger?"

Snape had entered the room, still stark-naked, and Hermione couldn't help but stare at this very adult male. He was so tall, lean but muscled, pale-skinned but with some dark hair on his chest and forearms. There were several ropey scars on his body, and the faint remains of the Dark Mark on his left arm. After Voldemort's death, it had been reported that the Marks of all his followers had started to fade, the magic imbued in them causing the brands to dissipate into non-being, since they had been made entirely by magic, not by ink.

He approached her, his eyes fixed on her nudity as she presumed hers must be on his. How strange it must be for him, to have a woman in his shower. Putting his hand in the flow to test the temperature, he joined her, pushing his own head under the water and soaking his hair through, just as she had, sighing in pleasure. No doubt she was not the only one who was aching from the exertions of their lovemaking.

"Good?" she asked.

Snape pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, and slunk his arms around her, pulling her body against his own.

"So very good," he agreed, bending down to kiss down the side of her neck. "So good, in fact, that I may never leave this shower cubicle."

"And who would teach Potions if you did that?" she teased, reaching up and folding her arms around his neck so that he had no choice but to kiss her.

"Believe me when I say," he mumbled, in between deep snogs, "that the teaching of Potions is considerably less important to me when I have a witch such as yourself in my shower."

He summoned a bottle of shower gel, squeezing some into both their palms, which they then proceeded to rub over one another, building up a lather. Hermione worked it into his chest, still slightly embarrassed, but her excitement overcoming any nerves, moved her hands lower, pausing at his waist. She looked up at him, and his eyes were sparking with good humour and interest.

"Go on," he urged, softly, guiding her hand down to his penis. "It doesn't bite, I can assure you."

Hermione took a deep breath and began to smooth her hands over his most private area, the unfamiliar feeling of the first dick she'd ever touched slipping through her fingertips with the soft lather. It was bloody huge, even in its flaccid state. How the hell he'd ever got this inside her, she had no idea.

Gaining in confidence, she swirled her hand around it and underneath, cupping his balls and massaging the soap into them, making him lurch forwards, grabbing her around the wrist.

"Fucking hell, Granger," he moaned softly. "You might need to give me a bit longer to recover than that. I'm an old man, compared to you."

"I'm just cleaning you, Sir," she replied, innocently.

"Thank you. I shall now never be able to shower in here again without remembering that," he complained, fixing her with a look of supposed annoyance that she suspected he did not mean.

Snape grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into his own hand, before passing her the bottle.

"That mane of hair is all yours, for now. No doubt it needs very specific care?"

She nodded, squirting the shampoo onto her own head as he washed his own hair. Hermione noticed that his attentions to his hair were rather cursory, which may explain the slightly greasy state it was always in, and decided that she'd do it properly for him, at some point, should they ever find themselves in this position again.

That thought jolted her reality a little, for they were doing such a fine job of pretending the outside world didn't exist, that to focus on what she actually was doing, which was having a shower with the Potions professor, felt rather uncomfortable.

Hermione hurriedly finished washing and conditioning her hair, for surprisingly, there was a bottle of herby conditioner in his shower too, rinsing out the suds thoroughly and feeling less vulnerable without a white puff of lather sitting on her head like a ridiculous cloud.

As they made their final rinses of their bodies, Snape pulled her to him under the jet of water, snaking his hands down her back, making her shiver despite the warmth of the shower.

"Clean enough?" he asked, his deep voice resonating against her ear.

She nodded, and he turned off the water, summoning two dark green bathrobes from the back of the door and holding one out, warm and ready for her to step straight into. As he was donning his own, Hermione selected a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her head, turban-style, allowing the water from her wet hair to be absorbed.

Walking back into the bedroom together, it seemed that an awkwardness had descended, as they stood in silence for a few seconds, as if neither of them were quite sure what to do next. Despite what had passed between them, drying and redressing oneself was still rather an intimate act, perhaps more so than sex, or showering together, for its sheer mundanity.

"Would you perhaps like to be left alone to dress?" he asked, succinctly appraising the situation.

"Um. Yes, I think so."

Snape gave a single nod to show he understood, then summoned an armful of clothes, and left the room through the other door, the one that led to the living room, where they had snogged and rutted on the sofa the previous evening, closing the door tightly behind him.

Hermione dried herself quickly, finding her jeans on one side of the room, where he'd banished them from her body, and her top and bra on the other, where they'd been slowly removed by him, as they'd stood together. She had to use her wand to find her knickers, Merlin knows how they'd ended up under the armoire, and she blushed, remembering how passionately he had pulled them down … and what he had done to her after he'd removed them.

Stuffing her knickers in her jeans pocket, deciding that they wouldn't be the most fragrant of items to put back on, she dressed, pulling the towel from her head and doing the best she could with a detangling and drying charm, separating the unruly curls with her fingers and attempting to make them lie a little flatter on her scalp.

Realising that she was breathing heavily, she sat down on the edge of Snape's bed, the ornate four-poster where she had allowed him to take her virginity, and been given his, in return.

Had that really happened? The dull ache between her legs suggested that it had. Hermione began to feel scared. What the hell did she think she was doing? There was no way that sleeping with a professor could ever be considered a good idea, and she had done it for what purpose? Simply to make her heart beat a little faster?

Stop panicking, Hermione, she told herself, firmly, getting to her feet and heading for the sitting room, where everything would hopefully become clear.

It didn't.

Professor Snape was waiting by the fireplace, dressed the same as he'd been last night, casual in white shirt and black trousers, nothing else. His hair was wet, pushed back from his face in a style she'd not seen him wear before, since the long black curtains normally hung greasily around his face. He was smoking a Muggle cigarette, which didn't surprise her, for there was nothing about the professor to suggest that he cared much for his own health.

Hermione looked at him, so very familiar, and yet she had never looked at him this way before. He gazed back at her, so many questions in his eyes, such uncertainty along with such … dark fire. He brought the cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag, never taking his eyes from hers, watching her warily as she made her way across the room towards him.

"I suppose I'd better go. Show my face among the others. I'll pretend I slept late," she began, standing as near to him as she dared.

He nodded; but did not say anything. The silence stretched way beyond what felt comfortable, and Hermione wondered what Snape was thinking, wondered where his mind has gone, as his eyes had left her and were now staring at the golden flames that were burning in the grate.

"Sir."

He lifted his gaze, again.

"Sir," she repeated. "Will we … I mean, can we … do this again?"

Suddenly, she dreaded that his answer would be no. For how could she go back to her room, back to her lessons, back to homework, the library, her friends … back to her safe little life, knowing that there was a man who made her heart beat faster, made her stomach turn over with just a raise of his eyebrow, a man who in only one night, had reassured her that she was still fully alive?

"It is forbidden," he replied, simply, taking a final drag of his cigarette, before leaning over and stubbing it out in the small ashtray on the table.

He quickly snaked his arms around her waist with no warning, turning his head to the side to blow the smoke from his nose, away from her, then touching his lips to hers with the lightest kiss, and Hermione smelt the tobacco on his breath, which was strangely compelling, rather than unpleasant.

"But I cannot give you up, witch," he continued. "One night, and already I am addicted to you. I refuse to be in this castle and unable to have you."

Hermione breathed a huge sigh of relief, which Snape noticed, and let out a dark chuckle.

"Relieved, little girl? You shouldn't be. You deserve so much more than a wizard such as myself."

"I'll be the judge of that," she murmured, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Indeed you will."

The corner of his mouth curved up in his own peculiar approximation of a smile, and he leaned down to kiss her, his surprisingly full lips coaxing hers into a full, open-mouthed snog that enticed her to wrap her arms around his neck; and pressing her hips up against his. The heady smell of the cigarette he had smoked, mixed with the distinctive taste that was all his own, and Hermione sighed in pleasure as he swirled his tongue around hers, kissing her with the intense passion that she was only just learning he had inside.

"You make noises like that, Granger, and I shall not allow you to leave."

"I don't want to."

He slid his hands down to her bum, grabbing her cheeks and pulling her up so that his groin was pressing tight against her mound.

"This is what will happen, girl. You need to show your face around the castle, interact with your friends, and no doubt you have homework to do. I suggest that you take both lunch and dinner in the Great Hall. I have work to do in my private lab, important tasks that cannot be left, and preparation for tomorrow's lessons. Whilst I am in my laboratory, I shall brew a contraceptive potion for you, or should I say, for us. Would you be amenable to taking the monthly dose?"

"Does that mean you want to have sex with me again?"

"What can you feel, girl?" he demanded, rubbing her tighter against what must be a rapidly-swelling erection.

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed. Now, go, before I am unable to let you do so. I shall call upon you via the fireplace this evening, and we shall see if you are still so keen, then."

Snape gave her a hard kiss on the mouth, and released her, passing her the pot of Floo powder that was on his mantel, indicating that she should take a handful.

Once she was back in her own room, Hermione threw off her clothes and dumped them in the laundry basket, grabbing a clean pair of pyjamas and vaulting into the bed. First, sleep, for there hadn't been much of that, last night. The lunch bell would wake her, and then she could seek out her friends.

She closed her eyes, a smile creeping unbidden to her face as her thoughts were filled with the touch of the dark professor who had made her feel again.