She could smell him, that strong smokey scent that she would lust after in every potions class, and she could taste his skin and his kisses as he devoured her lips, the way his tongue caressed hers made her stomach drop. She could feel him, his magnificent hands pulling on her hair and caressing her curves and her breasts, his touch electric and thrilling. She could see his dark eyes, that thick curtain of black hair and the lines of his perfectly shaped torso.

But what affected her most was what she heard – when he wasn't speaking in his low husky voice, the voice that sent shocks through her veins, she could hear his ragged breathing, the growls and groans he made when she pleasured him, the way he spoke her name…

"Hermione! Wake up!"

Sitting bolt upright in her bed, hair a complete mess around her flushed face, her sheets tangled around her legs, Hermione's eyes adjusted to the light and focused on the red-headed girl standing beside her bed.

"Ginny," Hermione said, trying to control her breathing. "What's wrong?"

"You've overslept, Hermione," Ginny said, pulling the covers back, "We're supposed to be going to Hogsmeade today!"

"How much time do I have?"

"Ten minutes –"

Hermione gasped and said, "Oh, no… Ginny, can you pick out my clothes? I need a shower…"

"Sure," Ginny said with a small grin. "But be quick, or I'll leave without you."

Hermione scowled at her friend before leaping out of her bed, grabbing her towel and going out of her dorm to the shower. There was nobody in the showers, which Hermione was grateful for, but she knew everybody would already be waiting down in the courtyard. Cursing beneath her breath, Hermione turned on the taps and wished that her hair would get wet faster. It seemed to take five minutes to even get the water all the way through it, before she could even begin to put shampoo in it.

Holding her hand out to the small shampoo dispenser on the wall, Hermione said clearly, "Silky smooth, please."

"Good luck with that, Miss Granger," the dispenser squeaked at her cheerfully and Hermione scrunched her nose up in distaste. She didn't like that the shampoo dispenser was allowed to have an opinion at all.

Lathering the shampoo through her impossibly thick hair, Hermione's mind wandered back to the dream she'd had that had made her sleep in. That was the first time she'd had a sex dream in – well, since Hermione could remember. The last remotely sexual dream she'd had was a dream in which she'd kissed Viktor Krum, and she'd woken up very cheery and glowing. But this dream, it was so different – she couldn't remember how it started, but she could clearly remember the empty, dark classroom in which she had been locked in a passionate embrace with her Potions professor.

The very thought of him made her excited. She felt herself blushing as she washed the shampoo out of her hair, the hot water running across her skin and washing away the sweat, but not the shame.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of Snape – God, she could hardly stop thinking about him. The only reason she hadn't told Ginny or anybody else was because they would immediately disapprove, and she knew that her friendship with Harry and Ron would come to a crashing end. Apart from the fact that the boys hated Snape with a passion, she was fifteen, and Snape was – well, she wasn't sure how old he was. Probably in his thirties, she thought. He was still incredibly fit, even if his shadowy robes did not pay him justice.

Hermione sighed. She knew she had more than a little schoolgirl's crush on her Potions teacher. She couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop the thrill that rushed through her when she remembered the way he had touched and kissed her. She needed him, she was aching for him.

"Hermione! Hurry the fuck up!"

Hermione nearly fell over as Ginny yelled obscenities from outside the bathrooms. "C-coming, Ginny!" she called back shakily, quickly running some conditioner through her hair before stepping out of the shower and grabbing her towel.

She couldn't even think about Snape without losing her marbles.

Arms crossed and a frown set on his face, Snape looked out over the dark forest from the balcony. He had a number of things he had to do today – he had to finish those potions for Madam Pomfrey, who had reprimanded him at breakfast for failing to deliver them the night before. Snape apologised, saying he was caught up finishing some fifth year assignments.

Snape smirked as he remembered his own private joke.

But Snape often went for a quick walk about the castle, and the balcony in front of the clock was one of the few places at Hogwarts where Snape could find a quiet moment – however, he had forgotten that this weekend was the Hogsmeade visit, and there were hordes of students milling around the courtyard, their collective mumbling and chattering floating up to the balcony and making Snape's upper lip curl the slightest. He did not like the vast majority of students. In fact, he did not like the vast majority of people. He supposed he was somewhat of a misanthrope, but he did what he had to do survive and he did what Dumbledore told him.

As he watched the students begin to file out of the courtyard in their messy crowd, he heard running footsteps and a few stragglers made their way to the back of the crowd. His eyes focused suddenly as he saw who it was.

Hermione's hair was still slightly wet, her tangled curls not as mane-like as they usually were, hanging limply down her neck. It was spring, though, and the gentle warmth of the sun was already beginning to dry it out. Her skin was glowing and her small figure surprisingly graceful as she slowed from her run to a brisk walk, her Weasley friend grinning at her as they shared a small joke.

Snape tried to remain impassive as he watched her, the way her modest breasts filled her grey sweater, the way that blue denim hugged her curves and the contours of her perfect legs. She was dainty and wonderful, and he wanted nothing more than to call her to his office to tear those clothes from her body, ravish her and leave her blushing and gasping for breath.

Snape took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, and when he opened them again she was gone.

The tightness in his pants, however, was decidedly not going away any time soon.

As the weekend came to an annoyingly slow and dragging end, Hermione was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with her friends, watching Ron, Harry and the twins playing Exploding Snap with the new deck they had bought from Zonko's the day before. The twins were undefeatable but it was far too much fun to not join in, and even though Hermione was only watching she had to admit it was pretty amusing.

It was getting late, and it was nearly ten o'clock, which meant McGonagall would be coming around to send them up to bed soon. Most people had already wandered off, but a few were sitting by the fire reading or still up talking or playing cards, like these guys were. Hermione was reading a book she'd bought yesterday about theory of potions. Ron had teased her but she said it was recommended by Professor Snape to help her grades.

"He's such a git," Ron snorted, and Hermione's attention was redirected from her thoughts with a loud sna

"Who's a git?" she asked, staring at them over her book.

"Malfoy," he replied.

"What's he done this time?"

"Well – nothing, really," said George.

"We're just having a general moan about people we don't like," Fred added.

"We could go on for ages."

"What about Umbridge?"

"Don't get me started, brother dear…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "You boys – honestly. You're whining like little girls."

"Got a better idea, Mione?" the twins said in unison, and Hermione scowled at that name she hated so very much.

"You could do something constructive," she said, "Like – like –"

"Studying?" the twins said, getting up from their places on the carpet and sitting either side of her.

"I don't think studying would be much fun," said Fred, a very serious frown on his face. "Wouldn't you agree, George?"

"I couldn't agree more, Fred," his brother said with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Well have fun not studying, then," she said, as another loud crack erupted from the game of Exploding Snap. "I'm going to bed."

As she picked up her things, she hesitated when she couldn't see her book bag. Glancing around her, she realised it wasn't there.

"Oh no," she said, hand on her mouth. The last time she'd seen it was at the library, when she'd gone down there this afternoon to return the books she'd borrowed for her transfiguration assignment.

"What's the problem, Mione?"

"My book bag," she said, not knowing which twin had asked. "I left it in the library."

Harry glanced up from their card game with a raised eyebrow. "And you're going to leave it till morning, aren't you?"

Hermione looked at him as if she wasn't sure he was being serious or not. "Ah – no. I was going to go get it now. I need it."

"It's Sunday night. Anything you haven't done now can't be done before tomorrow morning."

"Just –" Hermione sighed. "I'll see you guys in the morning."

Before any of them could argue with her, Hermione had walked out of the common room and began to walk briskly towards the library.

You're such an idiot, she thought to herself. It wasn't like her to be so forgetful, but lately she'd been all over the place, unable to wake up at a reasonable hour, forgetting to do her homework, leaving her bags in classrooms.

She had a feeling it had something to do with Snape, but she wasn't sure.

Snape hated corridor duties. He'd rather be in his room reading or sleeping, not wandering tediously waiting for somebody to break the rules. That said, when he was walking around the castle, Umbridge wasn't able to invite herself into his office and talk to him about his teaching, wait for him to dob in others who had not been following the new rules she had in place. That old hag was asking for a hexing but Snape had restrained himself.

As he was thinking, he heard the very quiet sound of light footsteps walking down the corridor behind him, and he turned to see the silhouette of a student walk swiftly down the hall. Taking quick, silent steps towards the adjoined corridor, he saw a whirl of chestnut-brown hair before she turned the corner, and he felt a fiery burn rush through him as he realised it was Hermione.

Snape knew he needed self control, but he also knew he needed Hermione. Following her silently, he waited outside the library until she emerged again, her wide golden eyes staring out along the corridor to make sure she wasn't being followed, but Snape was excellent at keeping to the shadows.

He waited until she walked past again until he stepped out of the alcove, hands outstretched towards her…

As Hermione felt a hand grasp onto her waist, her blood froze and her stomach dropped but before she could scream there was a hand over her mouth, and lips at her ear that whispered, "Wandering the corridors at night, Miss Granger?"

Hermione tried to control her heartbeat which had tumbled into overdrive as she realised who it was. He removed his hand from her mouth and she stammered, "P-professor Snape?"

He did not reply, but he moved backwards smoothly and pulled Hermione into a classroom, closing the door, before turning to face her again.

The look in his eyes made Hermione tremble and she took a small step backwards. "I-I'm sorry, sir, I left my books in the library, and I –"

"A very interesting story, I'm sure," Snape interrupted. "However, we both know that you were breaking school rules, and rule breakers must be disciplined."

Hermione took another step backwards as Snape approached her, and she felt the cold stone of the wall hit her back as he stood above her.

Snape's hand reached out to touch her face gently, before he took her jaw in his hand and he hissed against her lips, "Your lesson today is that I am your teacher, and I dictate what you can and can't do. I decide what your punishments are. If you fail to cooperate, I will not be so kind to you. Do you understand?"

Hermione couldn't nod so she replied, voice very nearly not working, "Yes sir."

"Very good," he said, before he tipped up her chin and placed his mouth at her neck, drawing an immediate sigh from Hermione's lips as he sucked and bit at her skin.

Hermione clawed at Snape's robes as he moulded his body to hers, so incredibly hot and hard against her. She could feel her knees give as he said in his low, gravelly voice, "How do you do this to me, witch? You are so delectable – I can't make myself stop –"

Hermione gasped as he bit down particularly hard on her neck, and she knew that would leave a mark. She pulled on his hair to make him stop, but he only bit harder and caught her arms in his, holding them against the wall before he removed his teeth from her skin and glared at her.

"Do you remember what I said, Miss Granger?" he asked dangerously. "You will take the punishments I give – each and every one."

Hermione felt his words rush straight to her groin as she suppressed a moan and tried to free her arms, but to no avail. Snape smirked and he said quietly, "You're so – so helpless. You're all mine."

His possessiveness was always evident, but tonight he seemed more adamant than ever to show how much he wanted her. "Nobody else can have you," he hissed, taking her bottom lip between his teeth.

Hermione took a few quick breaths as she attempted to speak coherently as she felt his breath on her lips. "P-professor, I – I only want you."

Snape paused suddenly, and Hermione worried that she'd said something wrong. But all those dreams, all those endless thoughts of Snape, his eyes and his face, his body, his touch, his smell, his voice... she wanted it all. She didn't see anybody else, she didn't think of anybody else this way.

Snape's face was impassive as he watched her carefully. "Do you really mean that, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, and Snape's grip on her wrists loosened, and he held her hands in his gently. He said nothing, the heavy pause weighing down on Hermione like a tonne of bricks.

She swallowed her nervousness, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'll – I'll go. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – I –"

She made to move away, but Snape placed both of his hands on her waist and held her still. "Hermione," he said hesitantly, "I didn't – I was not aware you thought about this in that way. I assumed you were only doing this because – because of your grades."

Hermione managed a weak smile. "I'm not – at first, I thought I was. But that was before – before you – touched me…" Her sentence trailed off and she blushed bright red, looking away.

Snape's voice was very soft as he said, "I thought I would repulse you."

"Repulse me?" Hermione repeated, frowning, "Why on earth would you repulse me?"

Snape traced the outline of her cheek with his fingertips. "Miss Granger, look at me," he said, "I'm growing old, weak, poor – I'm scarred and flawed. I'm not good for you. Nonetheless, I cannot help – I cannot help but want you. I crave you," he said, placing a ghostly kiss on her cheek.

Hermione shivered, before she responded. "You're – you're brilliant. I think your imperfections make you better. I'm curious about – about you. I want to know you. I want to learn," she said, a small cheeky smile curving her lips.

Snape smiled back, a rare yet wonderful sight, and he said, "Very well. But you know that if you do ever misbehave," he said with a small nip on her collarbone, "Or if you give yourself to anybody but me," another small bite to her neck, "I will make you very, very sorry."

His lips hovered just above hers, and she longed for his touch. "Yes, sir," she whispered, "Please, I – I want you."

Snape did not kiss her, not yet. He held her back, so close yet not close enough, and he hissed, "I want you, Hermione – I want your innocence, I want your curiosity. I want your sighs and your moans, I want your screams. I want it all."

And with nothing else spoken, Snape shifted her from the wall, and with a few quick steps he moved her to the desk, taking off his cloak and placing it on the wooden surface before placing Hermione against the desk, and then taking a short moment to survey the situation.

Hermione shivered in anticipation, and she stared up with wide eyes at her potions teacher as he slipped his fingertips down to the buttons of her sweater. Hermione began to stand, but Snape pushed her down again with a quick shove to the chest, so that she nearly fell backwards on the desk. Hermione shifted backwards slightly, edging away from him – that look he had in his eyes was predatory, almost frightening, yet at the same time overwhelmingly thrilling.

"Will you let me take you, Hermione?" he whispered. "Will you give me your innocence?"

Hermione realised what he was asking. She felt her heart flutter and drop at the same time, and all the oxygen seemed to rush from her lungs. She was not blushing, but she could feel her entire body heating up as she looked up at her Potions teacher with wide brown eyes.

He stared back at her with intensity and she shivered. "Professor, I – I don't know –"

"You're not scared of me, are you Hermione?" Snape asked, "You trust me."

"Y-yes, but –"

"Then give yourself to me," he hissed, and Hermione's breath hitched as he kissed her, and she realised then that she wasn't afraid of Snape – she was afraid of hurting. She knew Snape would keep her safe and he would never harm her.

He left her gasping for air as he pulled away, and he said, "Let me bring down your walls, your inhibitions…" he traced his finger down her neck and to her collarbone as he spoke. "I can show you so much more than you could have ever imagined, Hermione."

Hermione let out a moan as his lips brushed across her neck, and she whimpered. "Please, please, I just – I just want you."

"Then you have me," Snape whispered, and he kissed her lips again, enveloping her with his lips and his hands as he undid the buttons on her cardigan, and slipped his hands up her shirt, grasping at her soft skin and pulling himself closer to her.

Hermione shrugged the cardigan from her shoulders and nervously began attempting to undo Snape's shirt, but he brushed her hands away and tore it from his chest, throwing it to the floor. Hermione ran her hands from his neck, across his collarbones and torso, her shaking hands caressing every line of muscle, every scar on his chest. Snape took a hissing breath between his teeth at the feel of her hands and he grasped her waist and lifted her onto the edge of the desk, pressing himself between her legs and making her gasp.

Snape made quick work of her shirt, tugging it up her stomach and over her head, and crushed his lips against hers as he unclasped her bra, making Hermione jump slightly. He was so swift, like he'd had this all planned out for so very long.

He had, in fact. He'd spent a lot of time imagining how he would take her, whether he would have to force her or if he should wait and let her decide. But not having her was never an option, oh no – she was always going to be his, whether she wanted it or not. Luckily she obviously didn't know what she was getting herself into… or what she was getting into her, more accurately.

Snape's fingers did not wander aimlessly as he reached for her breasts, his calloused fingertips touching her nipples and making her whimper as he flicked and tweaked them. He swallowed every noise she made, before he began to kiss his way down her body, spending a little extra time nipping and sucking at her collarbone, until he reached her breasts.

Placing his left hand on the small of her back, Snape's mouth latched onto one rosy nipple as his talented hand played with the other. His tongue flicked across the pebbled hardness as Hermione's back arched, her breasts reaching higher into the air. He revelled in her sighs and moans, only encouraging him further. She was so young, so perfect – she was untainted by others. This was his idea of heaven, and he had lusted after her for so long he felt he deserved to take a small moment to appreciate her before he took her innocence forever.

Easy to think that way, but the large hardness in Snape's pants had other ideas as Hermione squirmed against him, and his breathing became heavier as his touch became even more frenzied. He pushed Hermione down against the desk, leaning over her as he kissed her, his nimble fingers unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, pulling them down her hips and thighs until they hit the floor, taking her small ballet-style shoes with them.

Hermione trembled as she saw that predatory look in his eyes again and he kissed his way down her stomach, biting her hips and kissing the skin just above her panties, and Hermione squirmed and moaned, the feelings of so-close-yet-so-far making her very needy. Snape placed his lips against her core and kissed her through her underwear, and at the feel of his soft mouth against her, Hermione cried out and Snape had to hold her hips down to stop her from moving.

Taking her panties between his sharp teeth, Snape dragged them down her legs and pulled them to the floor, before kissing her thighs, leaving marks on her pale, perfect skin as he made his way back to her centre, breathing hot air against her, inhaling her scent. Nudging her lips apart, he dipped his tongue into her warm wetness, and a strangled cry left Hermione's lips as he did so. Snape caressed her with his lips, his tongue, not leaving anything to chance as he ravished her, holding her hips so that she didn't buck too hard.

He wanted to be inside her so badly. He wanted to feel her around him. The very thought made him groan, and he stood, leaving her warmth to kiss her lips and watching her reaction as she tasted her sex. She shied away from the kisses, unsure of the taste but when Snape's wandering fingers caressed between her legs, her lips opened in a gasp and he slipped his tongue between her lips, making Hermione taste herself, hearing her moan as he stroked her.

Snape slowly inserted a long, thin finger inside her, pressing deeper inside than he had last time. Hermione flinched, her body twitching slightly as her internal muscles clenched around his finger, and she let out a small cry of pain.

"Shh," Snape said in his low voice. "You have to relax."

The sound of his voice was enough to make Hermione's body forget the pain she felt, the strange stretching feeling as he pushed in another finger all the way in, stretching her more than before and she tensed up again, only to have her teacher whispering in her ear again, kissing her neck to make her stay calm.

"How does this feel?" Snape asked, as he moved his fingers deep inside her.

Hermione was having trouble thinking coherently as she managed a reply. "I – it feels – feels deeper. Feels like more."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not – hurt," Hermione said, as a small gasp interrupted her sentence, Snape's other hand touching that small nub of nerves downstairs, making it more difficult for comprehensible speech. "It's – it's just u-uncomfortable – oh, Professor…"

Her voice trailed off into moans as he touched her, kissed her neck, prepared her for what he knew would be something she would never forget, not so long as she lived…

And as Hermione heard the sharp sound of the zip of his pants, she knew she was in too deep to back out now.

Or at least, Snape would be in deep soon…