Snape's New Year Kiss: Snape/Hermione

Severus Snape sighed and took another sip of champagne, inwardly cursing Harry bloody Potter. He'd attended exactly zero of the countless, unnecessary Ministry-hosted events celebrating the end of the War. Until now.

Snape glanced at Potter as he doted upon his wife, the Weasley woman. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated Potter's fucking nerve, naming his second born after him of all bloody people. And if that weren't enough, asking him to be godfather to Albus. It was preposterous.

Finally, the last nail on the cross- Potter guilting him to attend this Merlin-forsaken thing. Snape's eyes darted around the ballroom, to the Milky Way-enchanted sky to the sickeningly affectionate couples on the dance floor. He was here for one reason and one reason only. Potter had caught him at a weak moment, near the anniversary of Lily's death. "My mum would've wanted you to get out and have fun, you know. You deserve it."

Snape finished his champagne in one go. Deserve. Potter knew nothing of what he did or didn't deserve, but Severus Snape, despite the accolades and medals and title of War Hero, knew that he wasn't ultimately what one would consider a good man. Yet, here he was, playing the part, nodding at all the wizards and witches who tripped over themselves to become acquainted with the Lovelorn Dark Prince (as bloody Skeeter had recently christened him on her latest lie-filled tell-all.)

"Professor Snape!"

Snape sighed and took an extraordinary length of time to incline his head toward the voice. He grimaced at the sight of George Weasley's freckled, beaming face.

"Enjoying the champagne, are we?"

Snape glanced at his empty flute. "Is there a point to this conversation, Mr. Weasley?"

George laughed and- the nerve!- gave him a smack on the shoulder. "I expect you'll be feeling a tad less grumpy, soon. Hell, by the end of the night, you might have to give up your nickname, Grumpiest Grump Who Ever Grumped." George snorted into his own champagne.

Ah, yes. Another one of Skeeter's gems. But suspicion overcame annoyance in Snape as he glared at George. "What did you put in this?"

George shrugged. "I didn't put anything in it, sir. Tonight, I mean."

Snape's mouth formed a thin line. "Explain."

George grinned. "Let it be known, Professor, you are drinking the debut release of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes vineyard venture, the Champagne Chortle."

Snape groaned and gave the empty flute a sniff, which he should've done to start with. He'd become less vigilant in recent years, taking some respite in the fact that he no longer had to spy for and on the most evil wizard in all of history. His change in demeanor had been mostly without consequence. Until now.

"Everpink hearts," Snape said, dropping the flute from his nose. "Blister peach. And a pinch of evaberry- are you mad?"

George's eyes twinkled. "I knew you still had it in you, ol' boy. And no, not mad. Just looking forward to seeing everyone get their New Year's kiss."

Snape snorted. "That concoction won't ensure kissing, Mr. Weasley. Even with that evaberry. You should know-"

"Right, right. Just a pinch will cause bit of flirting, snuggling, but all mixed with some old fashioned New Year's romance- there will be plenty of kissing, Professor. Mark my words." George actually wrapped his arm over the shoulders of Snape. "See any witches that tickle your fancy? Might want to strike while the cauldron's hot. That's what I like to-"

"Remove your arm from my person, Mr. Weasley, or else you will be leaving here with something missing in addition to an ear."

George dropped his arm. "Aw, Professor. You don't find me endearing?"

"Out of my sight, Mr. Weasley."

"Right," George said, leaning in. "Before I go, though, looks like you've got a beautiful witch coming your way. Eh? Eh? I'd say good timing for your evaberry consumption."

"Mr. Weasley," Snape growled.

George took off, laughing.

Snape turned to meet the gaze of a rather worried-looking know-it-all swot. He sighed. This evening just keeps getting better and better.

x

Hermione Granger bit her lip and slipped her hand in her dress pocket, fingering the piece of parchment that had brought her to Snape's presence in the first place. How the bloody hell am I going to do this? she thought. I haven't even spoken and he already looks like he wants to rip me to pieces. And not in that way, she scolded her dirty mind.

"Um," she began.

"Um, Ms. Granger?" Snape sneered. "I thought adulthood would perhaps refine your vocabulary, but apparently… not."

Hermione cleared her throat. She could do this. She had to, in fact. They both did, whether he hated her or not. Whether she hated him or not. Which was not, she corrected. She very much did not hate him.

He continued to stare daggers at her as she cleared her throat. "May we speak in private, Professor?"

"We may not."

Hermione closed her eyes. Gods, this was already so much harder than she'd anticipated, and she certainly wasn't expecting it to be a breeze. She opened them again to see that Snape's expression had softened, like he was concerned, but he quickly scowled again. "Ms. Granger, if you're going to continue to stand there like a piece of dull furniture, I will be on my way now."

"No," she said, unable to control the urgency in her voice. "Don't go." Besides, you can't, she thought, but didn't say. "Professor, there's something I need to tell you. In private."

He exhaled loudly. "One of the sitting rooms, then." He turned and walked, clearly expecting her to follow. Which she did. Like a puppy. What choice did she have, really?

x

As soon as they entered the room- small but cozy, with paintings of landscapes on the walls and a couple violet sofas surrounding a gold coffee table- he slammed the door shut. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione cleared her throat, her cheeks burning. "Perhaps we should sit?"

"No."

Hermione sat anyway. She was already feeling weak-kneed. "I participated in one of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes games earlier this evening. They're hosting the whole event, you know. In charge of food and drink and-" She coughed. "Really rather stupid on the Ministry's part, knowing those lot tend to get… inappropropriate with their… endeavors." She gulped and glanced up at him.

Snape stared, his whole face expressionless.

"Right, the game. It's the one where you get a command of sorts and you can't leave until you fulfill-"

"The point, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione sighed, averting her eyes away from his. She couldn't bear to look directly at him as she stated the rest of this stupid, idiotic predicament she'd found herself in. Bloody George Weasley and his games. "I have to kiss you. Sir."

x

Snape visibly recoiled, immediately earning a wince from Granger.

A kiss? Did he hear that right? Of course he did, his hearing was impeccable. A kiss. Bloody fucking absurd.

He immediately turned to leave, turning the door knob, which jammed. "Alohomora," he murmured. The door didn't budge. He pulled out his wand, aiming it directly at the knob. "Alohomora!" he roared. Nothing.

Granger cleared her throat. "Right, sir," she said, her voice quiet. "Until we fulfill the command, you can't leave, either."

Snape turned, his black eyes blazing. "I beg your pardon, Ms. Granger."

Hermione shivered at the deep growl of his voice. "Sir. It's the charm. Neither of us can leave until-"

"Then why did you have me enter this room?"

"You wouldn't have been able to leave the party, either. Not since I received the parchment an hour ago."

Snape closed his eyes. This was what he got for giving in to Potter's bloody sentimental manipulations. He swore at that moment that this would be the last time he'd ever attend anything hosted by the Ministry.

He turned and approached Granger. "Fine." Her eyes widened. "Stand," he said. She rose slowly, trembling. He stared at the shake in her hands. What was the matter with her, honestly? She likely wanted this much less than he did. He was no catch. He wasn't handsome. He was old enough to be her father. A young father. But all the same, her father.

She, on the other hand, had grown into quite an attractive young lady. He wasn't blind. He'd just never allowed himself to do anything beyond notice that singular fact. Now, though, he allowed himself a bit more. He was, after all, about to kiss her.

Granger's eyes were rimmed in khol, making them appear a lighter brown than they already were. Her lips, full and painted pink. Her cheeks flushed. Her cheekbones were high, dusted in fine brown freckles and his eyes dropped to her shoulders where there was another smatter of freckles. As he noticed the few on her cleavage- not directly, of course, he wasn't stupid enough to let her catch him leering at her- he idly wondered what they'd taste like under his tongue. His cock stirred immediately, which pissed him off even more. He turned his glare back at her face, bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

x

The kiss was awful. Nothing like she'd fantasized about, and she'd fantasized about a number of sorts of kissing. He pressed his closed mouth to hers so hard, it nearly hurt. He pulled away just as abruptly as it began and walked to the door. She didn't even look up at him as he battled the door knob. He flung a few spells at it, then a few curses. She could hear that he was a bit breathless, though it was likely more out of frustration in his captivity than having just kissed her.

"Granger," he said, his voice in a tone of warning.

"Professor," she replied. "If you'll recall, I was the one who had to kiss you." She cleared her throat. "And, well. A little bit more."

"Explain."

She turned to him. His gaze was no longer expressionless. No, now Snape did nothing to hide his fury. She sighed. What on earth was George thinking?

"Now, Granger."

"I'm supposed to." She coughed. "Come on to you."

"Let me see the parchment." The words were spat out between clenched teeth.

"No, I can't. Besides, I don't have it anymore."

It was a lie, and though he likely knew it, he didn't let it on. She would never let him see that blasted paper, though not for the reasons he probably suspected.

He huffed and sat down on the sofa next to hers, staring at the wall, no doubt thinking of some way to get around this. "Have you tried any counter spells?"

"I've tried all the ones I know, sir."

"The intermisso?"

"A clauditia was used to prevent that one. Moreover, they sort of sealed it with a impervio fortis. Believe me, Professor. I tried to get out of it."

His eyes flicked to hers. "Don't think I don't know exactly what you and your lot are doing, Granger. Trying to humiliate me? Get a laugh afterwards with all your friends? Or run off to Skeeter to tell her how the Dark Prince snogs?"

Hermione gasped. "How dare you! You know as well as anyone that I hate Skeeter almost more than anyone in this world, and that's including Delores bloody Umbridge. Moreover, I am not a bully. I believe that's your department." She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He almost let his eyes fall to the half-dozen freckles on her now-pushed-up bosom, then caught himself immediately. "Revenge, then. For my so-called… bullying."

"I know you think very little of me, Professor, but I am not that petty." She stood. "The fact is, I need to seduce you. The parchment said nothing of your response to it, so you may sit like a statue for all I care. Let me flatter you, kiss you, whatever. And then we can get the fuck out of here."

He shrugged as though she'd just offered a cup of tea. "Fine."

x

Granger stood, brushing something off her skirt, then walked toward Snape, who very much liked the idea of remaining nothing more than a statue. He didn't look at her as she approached, sat down, nor took his hand into hers.

"I've always liked your hands, Professor," she said. He snorted- not very statuesque, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing was ludacris. He was already drafting a complaint against the Ministry in his mind.

"They're large and long and lovely." She ran her fingers over his, making the skin tingle. He set his jaw in a hard line. He would not respond to Ms. Granger or her pathetic seduction.

She ran her hand up to his shoulder. His gaze remained fixed on the emerald curtains tightly shut over the window. "You've cut your hair recently?" She ran her fingers through it. "It was longer last time I saw you."

Ah, yes. Molly Weasley had wrangled him into a dinner gathering at the Burrow. He'd left as quickly as he could, though Granger had called him before he stepped into the floo. "Uh- nevermind," she had said, blushing. "Have a safe trip." Then she promptly ran away.

He'd thought about that farewell for far longer than he cared to admit. Just as he would probably think of this, her fingernails on his scalp, raising the hairs on his neck, for the rest of his bloody life.

He snapped his eyes back on the curtains before they rolled back into his head. "If this is your best attempt at seduction, Ms. Granger, than I can now understand why Mr. Weasley was so eager to leave your companionship."

Her hand dropped immediately. It was a low blow, he knew, but he had to do something to keep his body from responding to her touch.

"Alright," she said, her voice more angry and less hurt than he thought it'd sound. "Lean back."

"No."

"If you want to get out of this bloody room, Snape, you will lean back."

He exhaled sharply and pushed his back against the plush of the sofa. She grabbed his shoulders and leapt over him, until she straddled his lap. Snape was, for the first time in recent or distant memory, flustered. He looked up at her gaze, which he found to be heated. Not disgusted, as she should've been. She looked like she wanted this.

Stop being pathetic, he told himself. He'd barely finished the thought when she grabbed his face and kissed him.

x

She sucked on his lower lip first. It was a bit aggressive for a first kissing move, but he refused to open his mouth, and she was not going to get the chance to snog Severus Snape again, so she was going all out.

Finally, finally he opened his mouth a few millimeters and she slipped the tip of her tongue inside. His was right there, and there was the barest of touches, but it was enough to elicit a moan from her. Enough for his hands to immediately wrap around her hips.

She stifled the urge to grind into him and instead tilted her head, opening her mouth deeper. He did the same.

Gods, Snape can kiss. She giggled at this thought and he snapped his head back, his cheeks pink, his eyes, once again, furious. "What's so funny, Ms. Granger?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide. "Nothing. I was- I was just thinking you're really good at this and-"

He pushed her off of him and stood, his hands clutching the tiny parchment she'd stupidly left in her pocket.

"Professor," she began, but he silenced her with a glare.

x

Now he would get to the bottom of this madness. He knew those bloody Gryffindors were up to no good, ever since George bloody Weasley insinuated something might go on between him and Granger tonight.

Plus, this may keep her from noticing the giant erection trying to drill its way out of his trousers.

He opened the parchment with his fingertips and read it.

Oh, lucky you- you get to come on to someone in this very room! It needs to be the person you've wanted the longest. Snogging required. Enjoy!

Snape read it again. And again. Finally, he blinked and looked at her. She carried an expression of horror on her face as she chewed mercilessly on her bottom lip.

"Explain, Ms. Granger."

She gulped. "I've- I've wanted you for a while now. I know it's stupid, okay? I never meant for you to know."

"What does Mr. Weasley have to do with this?"

She blinked. "What? Oh, you mean George. Well, I told him about my, ah, crush on you. He was trying to help me out with it. Or he thought. The champagne, rigging the game so I'd get that card. I know it's stupid, stupid. All of it."

Few things shocked Snape, but this was beyond anything he'd ever even think of. Hermione Granger wanted him. Certainly, many a lady had asked him out ever since that bloody Dark Prince article, but they all had balloons for brains. Granger, on the other hand… Merlin. A beautiful, brilliant witch wanted him. He quickly calculated her age. Miss Granger was well into her twenties. She was a woman now, one no doubt many wizards had attempted to court, and yet she wanted him.

Snape walked to the door and found it unlocked. He, ever the Slytherin, feigned its bond to the wall and wandlessly re-locked it. "Ms. Granger," he said, turning to her. "It appears we haven't yet met the requirements for the charm."

"I'm sorry," she said, wincing. "I thought- it really ought to've worked-"

"I'm afraid you'll have to take off your knickers."

x

Hermione gaped at him. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Ms. Granger." He held what appeared to be a half-smile and a half-smirk on his face.

Hermione licked her lips. Was this really happening? Fuck, if she took off her knickers, then he'd see how turned on she was. But wasn't that the whole point?

This is Snape, she reminded herself. The man you've wanted since you were seventeen. The man you've wanted for nearly eight bloody years and he's asking- no, telling- you to take off your knickers and you're just staring at him like he's just grown wings and scales and flown away.

She blinked, gathering herself. Finally, she said, "No. You take them off."

"Very well." He was upon her faster than she could blink, dropping to his knees, reaching up her dress. Those lovely, long, large hands ran up her thighs and pulled down her bloody sopping knickers and tossed them to the side.

He left his fingertips at her inner thigh, grazing just so as he looked up at her. "Would you like me to lick you, Ms. Granger?"

She gasped. He may as well already be licking her for the reaction her body was giving. "Please," she found herself saying.

He slipped her skirt up, pushing her legs as far wide as they would go, and put his mouth on her.

"Oh, Merlin," she moaned, throwing her head back.

He'd wrapped his hot lips around her clit, licking relentlessly. He pressed his tongue hard on her, but somehow it wasn't too much. Somehow, it wasn't enough.

She could hardly recognize the pitch her voice had taken as she yelped and writhed under him. He sucked on her and she immediately felt the oncoming orgasm. He withdrew his mouth at that moment and she nearly screamed in frustration.

"I'd like it if you came while I was inside you." His voice was low and deep and oh gods, everything and she gazed into the black of his eyes and nodded.

He pulled his wand out and stripped them of their clothing, gazing at her form for a long while. She, too, took him in- in the massive size of his cock, bobbing in its hardness, and whimpered when he reached for her breasts, kneading. "Oh gods," she whispered. She wanted to return the favor, to make him moan and lose control as he so easily did to her, but she found she could do little else than tremble and groan under his hands.

He leaned over her, taking a nipple into his mouth the very moment he thrust his cock inside her.

"Gods," she yelled as he groaned, his voice vibrating right on her chest. He licked her nipple just as he'd done to her clit, pumping into her slowly. The combination of sensations- his mouth on her breast, his length stretching her completely- caused the return of the orgasmic built, causing even her fingers to shake.

X

Merlin, being inside Hermione Granger wasn't even a thought he'd ever allowed himself to entertain, but the fact was, now that he was fucking her, he wondered how he'd think of anything else again. She was so bloody tight and wet, it's a wonder how he'd managed to last as long as he had. Slower, he told himself.

But then her eyes rolled back and she arched her back. "Professor," she whispered. "I'm gonna… oh, oh…fuck."

Hearing her say fuck had given him quite the hard-on the first time, but now, with him dangerously close as it was, it only pushed him further to the edge. As her cunt spasmed around his cock, as she convulsed under the weight of him, as he reminded himself that he was doing that to her, and, moreover, she wanted it, well. He was a man, after all, and he came unapologetically, slamming into her slow and hard, drawing out the orgasm as long as he could, groaning into her neck.

He remained inside of her for a few moments, relishing the vanilla sugar smell of her neck. "Was that… to your liking?" he finally asked.

"Oh, gods, yes," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his chin. He lowered his head and kissed the freckles between her breasts. There were seven.

He smiled and stood, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on. She watched him lazily, stretching out on the sofa. "Professor?"

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" He turned to her, admiring the lovely curve of her hip.

"I'd like to do that again."

It was more than he could hope for, but he kept his gaze impassive. "When?"

She smiled, standing. "I was wondering if you'd like to come back to my place. This time, though," she said, standing, grabbing her knickers. "I'd like to lick you first."

"That sounds agreeable," he said, helping her into her dress.

"Wait," she said, grabbing his wrist, glancing at his watch. She pushed up to her toes and snogged him, hard and long. "Happy New Year, Severus."

His voice was low in her ear. "Happy New Year, Hermione." He then held out his arm and escorted her out of the room with no door-resistance at all.

Special thanks to authors MsWhich and DesertC, whose amazing characterizations of Snape inspired this. Read their super hot fics for more Snamione (Sevmione?) goodness!