It's been 2 days after the war. She had just finished burying Snape. It was a small and private funeral, the celebration of the death of Voldemort overshadowed everything, even the spy who had sacrificed himself so that they could all have peace.

'Hermione.'

She turned. It was Harry. He held the Pensieve to her.

~x~

He drifted into awakeness and opened his eyes. There was someone beside him on his bed. Used to a lifetime of mistrust, he reached for his wand, a curse on the tip of his tongue. Then he heard a soft snoring and a bushy head of hair nestled in the crook of his arm. His lips twitched into a small smile and he settled down, remembering last night's affair.

Sometime last night Hermione had divested herself of all her clothing and here she now laid, spooned against him, her vulnerable form rising up and down, deep in sleep.

'Can't blame her for being tired,' Snape thought, 'after the rigorous extra curricular activity last night.'

Snape contented himself with feasting on her curves. Yes, despite everyone's conception that he was a heartless bat and double spy, he was still a man who had sexual needs, who is now being held captivated by Hermione Granger's naked body in front of him. And Merlin, he looked down on his morning erection, 40 years old with the previous decade spent in abstinence, and you've still got it, old boy.

He traced a line down the side of her curves with the tip of his fingers and was rewarded by an involuntary shiver from her. He planted a small kiss on the back of her shoulder while his fingers reached in front, and continued their stealthy exploration of her body. Holding himself off as long as he could. He wanted this memory to last forever.

Finally his fingers drifted down to her center and he gently parted her legs open, slipping a finger down to pleasure her. Hermione moaned in her sleep and arched her back. Her pert little bottom grazed the tip of his erection. Snape drew in a hiss of breath and wondered briefly if she was really asleep or faking. His fingers slid over he juices and he realized, asleep or not, she was ready for him.

Slowly he eased himself into her folds from behind, closing his eyes unable to withstand all the sensations. She was so tight that he winced, having given up her precious virginity to him and he struggled for control instead of ravishing her like an animal. Last night had been a rushed, spur of the moment sex completed in a haze of pain and hurt. This moment now, this is for her.

He slid in and out of her, learning her body, memorizing her reactions, committing everything to memory. His movements became more urgent, his breathing grew ragged with his efforts to control

himself. He reached around, grasping a supple breast in his hand.

Hermione slowly came awake, hazily wondering why the bed was rocking, why she was being rocked so, while there was an incredible sensation of being filled. There was a hand kneading her breast. On its palm, a scar.

Ah.

Snape, realizing that she had awoken, increased the intensity of his strokes. The little minx was gyrating her ass on his every penetration. Had he been a school boy of her age, he would have shot his load there and then.

Still deep within her, he turned her over, adjusting her thighs on either side of him. He leaned forward so they were face to face.

'Good-', he began.

'-Morning.' she breathed, capturing his lips before he could finish.

Snape pushed himself up above her, his hair falling in a curtain around him. She looked so wanton with lust, her lips red and swollen from being kissed, her body flushed with a sweat, her nipples, oh so rosy and swollen and just begging to be suckled. He bent down and took a bud into his mouth, teasing her, delighted to hear the urgency of her moans.

For once, academics was not on her mind. She looked down to see her professor's mound of shining black hair, the same hair everyone used to call greasy, bobbing up and down as he alternately kissed

and suckled her breast. His black hair was actually tinged blue in the morning sun. She groaned and tugged on his hair, pulling him up.

'Fuck me, sir.'

That sneer again. He gave her that sneer when she was in her first year, waving her hands wildly eager to answer his question to Harry on the usages of a bezoar.

Instead he leaned back still wearing that sneer, and started pumping hard into her. His thick thumb fastened on her clitoris, pressing, stimulating. He learnt just the right amount of pressure on her clitoris that sent her out of control, her juices squirting, drenching his hard cock, as she impaled herself onto him uncontrollably over and over again, her moans so loud she was afraid it would bring members of the staff running to his dungeon, wondering if he was under attack.

He waited patiently for her knees to stop trembling around him, until her eyes fluttered open again to look at him. His orgasm was less dramatic, he pumped once, twice, spilling his seed into her. A small groan escaped his lips as he shuddered and fell on top of her. She could feel his quick heartbeat, so strong, so alive, thumping against her own.

After a brief moment, he raised himself up again to look at her. It seemed he couldn't get enough of looking at his Hermione in his bed, so ravished. His expression was so serious, it startled her a bit. He took her small hand in his and deliberately placed it over his heart.

'Yours.'

~x~

Writer's note: To be continued. It seemed like this will go on for another 2 chapters, me thinks. Thanks for the adds and reviews. They keep me going. (at least I know people are reading)