Hermione barely made it past the bathroom door before she felt his arm wrap around her waist, pushing her towards the bedroom wall. She caught herself with her hands, pressing firmly against the barrier for support, while his body leaned against her back.

"Are you upset with me?" asked Hermione, the feeling of his warm breath tickled her ear as he lowered his head and inhaled her hair. He moaned. The familiar sound making her close her eyes and melt deeper into his embrace. She basked in the feeling of his hands roaming her curves. She missed his presence, his power, and of course, his hands.

"Is there a reason I should be upset with you?" he continued, tracing his lips over the delicate skin of her neck.

"You looked as though you were going to curse me when I mentioned your birthday."

"No one wants to be reminded of such trivial nonsense."

"I do. It's important when such things are remembered."

"And why is that?"

"It just is."

"Ah, such an intelligent answer." Hermione could feel the smirk of his lips against her throat, but it wasn't enough for her to move away. She missed him and wanted to feel as much of him as she could. "You smell lovely."

"I smell like you."

"Precisely." There was something extremely stimulating, sexy, in his arrogance or perhaps it was his mouth nipping at her skin. Hermione's arousal intensified when his wandering hands reached the hem of her jumper, tugging on the garment before slowly peeling it off along with her camisole. His face returned to her neck, making his way to her ear. "Turn around," he whispered, slightly moving away from her body. Hermione obeyed his instructions, turning around slowly to face him. "Perfect," he whispered, before his lips dropped to hers and his hands moved to to cup her breasts. She moaned. His touch was exhilarating, the ache from the pressure bringing a delightful sensation to her already needing body.

"Did you miss me?" He asked, his cold fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps as they made their way closer to her sex. Hermione nodded in response. The anticipation of him discovering just how ready she was for him was enough to make her come, but she forbade her body from doing so. "No, dearest. I want to hear you say it." His gentle command sent a savage quiver throughout her body. I need you.

"Yes," she sighed. Feeling his long fingers unbuttoning her trousers. "I've missed you terribly."

"Show me," he challenged, grazing a finger along the silk band of her knickers. "Show me how much you missed me...witch."

There it was, that word. Witch. Her favorite term of endearment and he knew it. She pushed down her opened trousers revealing the gold colored lace and silk knickers that were selected for her. She watched him hungrily, his eyes lingering on her, before gradually pushing down the garment, granting him the full view of her form. Hermione reached for his hand, placing it below her navel. Her breath caught in her throat when the burn of his icy fingers reached their destination. He moaned. Hermione's head dropped back against the wall, riding the small waves of pleasure as his lengthy finger expertly found her entrance and his thumb caressed her swollen clit. His handy work was starting to draw out a multitude of sharp breaths from her. She was incapable of stopping the fierce grinding of her hips. Her only thought was to keep fucking his hand, needing it to liberate her head and body from the aches, tiredness, and strain it had endured over the last four days.

"Oh, d-don't stop," she pleaded, gasping for air. The addition of his second digit thrusting into her wet heat caused Hermione's brain to go blank. A phenomenal experience only he could give her.

"Come," he growled. The word was all that was needed to push her over the edge, her hands dug into his robe covered arms as her walls clenched tightly around his fingers. Her eyes shut, relishing in the mixture of ecstasy and magic as it traveled through her body with a sweet tasting vengeance. Her groan ascending to scream.

"Beautiful." His movement slowed gradually, allowing the last ripples of her climax to cease naturally. The sound of his voice caused Hermione to open her eyes. She was back in the room, back in his presence. There was a silent moment shared between them. She had so many questions to ask him, so many things she wanted to know. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to push back those questions and Snape's confessions. He looked too exquisite and he wanted this time for them.

"I...believe I was supposed to show you," she said, cupping the side of his face gently. She could see the want, need, and even warmth radiating from his eyes. My ancient god. She raised herself onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips softly on his. "What can I do for you?" She asked, pushing down his outer cloak to reach his robe. She slowly unbuttoned the top of his robe, peppering kisses down the length of his neck while inhaling his masculine scent. He moaned. I'll never get tired of that sound.

"Don't stop touching me," he exhaled, closing his eyes.

"I'm positive," she said, placing small open mouthed kisses along his clavicle, "I can oblige." Without another word Hermione switched their positions, pressing Voldemort's back against the wall. His eyes widened slightly, but he corrected his expression quickly. She continued her explorations down his body, silently thanking him for the fact that he wore nothing underneath his billowing robes. Excellent.

Making it down to her knees, his cock greeted her proudly and ready. This was completely new for her, but she was confident it was something she was well capable of performing. It can't be that hard. Suck; no teeth, right? She chanced a glance up from her position, his ruby eyes were focused on her as his chest moved up and down from the intensity of his breathing. I can do this. Hermione moistened her lips, then licked from the base of his shaft to his tip, making sure to keep her eyes locked on his.

"H-Hermione," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Don't worry, I will never stop touching you." She moved her head forward, but then, she stopped, "Oh, just one more thing," her eyes met his once again, with a smirk on her face, "Happy birthday, my Lord." With that, Hermione's lips slid down his length.

Hermione's eyes opened from the chill of a cold breeze tickling her nose. Sitting up in bed, she turned to face the brass clock on the nightstand, its hands displaying fifteen minutes past one in the morning. Turning her head, Hermione realized the space next to her was empty and the glass door leading to a small balcony was slightly ajar. That explained the chill despite the large fire warming the room. She moved from the bed, making sure to wrap herself with the long cashmere robe that hung from the bed's post. As she made it to the door, her eyes immediately caught his silhouette sitting on a single chair looking out into the distance. His leg crossed neatly over the other, while his hands rested folded in his lap. This was the image of him that Hermione always visualized, whether it was in an abandoned church or in his bed. The moonlight provided him the perfect light. Hermione stepped away from the door when she felt the tremble of her lip, trying to stop the emotions flooding her insides. She was in love with him. She was fine to admit she cared for him. Wanted him even, but to finally say it, that word. It only provided her with burden. Is he capable of such feeling?

"Hermione?" Fuck. She swallowed her emotions down, using her intermediate skill of Occlumency to block them away before she answered.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't disturb me," he said softly. "Come here." She made her way to him, watching as he moved his leg, and offered her his hand. Hermione raised a brow. "Oh, now come, pet. You and I know how many times you've been on this lap. Hermione rolled her eyes, but sat down, enjoying the warmth of the warming charm she felt as she snuggled into his body. "Something is troubling you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Don't lie, Hermione. You're awfully terrible at it. You can always use a potion to grow it back." Hermione snorted a laugh.

"I'm sure you're perfectly aware that vanity is not one of my flaws, besides-" A small smile formed on her lips. "I like it." Hermione sat up and shook her head. Her brown curls now ending past her chin instead of down her shoulders like before.

"Then what is plaguing your mind?" Hermione licked her lips. She didn't want to ruin this time between them, but she had questions.

"Alright...Did you communicate with Harry and Ron the way you communicated with me?"

"No," he replied with a smile. "I'm not interested in sexual gratification from men." Hermione huffed at the statement.

"That's not what I-"

"Communication implies an exchange. I never conversed with those halfwits through the locket." Hermione could feel herself heating in spite of the cold.

"Perhaps not conversed, but spoke." Hermione quickly removed herself from his lap.

"The most intelligent, yet...one of the easiest to pull away." Hermione turned her back on him to leave, but her body froze as the door slammed shut, preventing her entrance back into the bedroom. I'm sorry, Ronald. Hermione exhaled forcing her body to hold back the tears she refused to let go. The guilt rested heavily on her chest for all the times she cursed her best friend for leaving them. She knew how powerful the urges could feel when she wore the locket. She can only imagine the feelings he eroded within Ron. She straightened her back before facing him, the knot in her stomach grew tighter from the collection of emotions fighting within your body.

"You made Ronald leave us." Voldemort sneered from her declaration.

"Trust me, he didn't need any convincing. He's a weak excuse of a wizard who doesn't deserve the blood that runs through his veins. Not to mention he was struggling with his proximity.

"His proximity?" Hermione stared at him, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Oh, how naive you tend to be, Hermione." She turned her head away. "I remember the thoughts that lingered in his air filled head. Quidditch, his pathetic home, and a familiar young woman with hair of chocolate curls." His hand moved to touch her hair. "There were times when he envisioned her lips on his. Even her lips on not so innocent places." She pushed his hand away. "The boy is quite...smitten with you. I suppose one might say...in love.

"Stop," she muttered in anger. "Open the fucking door!"

"I'm not finished," he hissed. His hand moved to her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. "He had many fantasies and not just of a carnal nature. Do you want to know his favorite?" She could feel the fury in his magic engulf them as his hands moved to cup her face. "His favorite was of you, dearest...with a belly swollen with his child!" Tears finally escaped her, not having the will to keep them in any longer. She wept for the loss of what might never be. What could never be. She knew she didn't love Ron that way, but he loved her that way and she would never experience that pure adoration of being loved in return. What am I doing? The bitter night air was suffocating her. She didn't want to be there right now, she didn't want to be around him. "How dare you weep for him in front of me? After you so willingly give your affections to me? Your promises-"

"No more!" she exclaimed, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the cold air silencing Voldemort. Hermione pushed her hand through one of the window panes, clicking the locking mechanism to open the door. Upon entering, she walked to the bathroom, followed by a trail of blood in her wake.

Thank you Pamela RR! I couldn't have done this without your help.