AN: I have not written sex scenes for FF before, please let me know what you think and if you think it's okay for the rating. It's hard to know what would be considered graphic and what is not. Thanks guys!

"May I sit on your lap?" she asked, not waiting for an answer, placing herself straddling his lap. Her skirt hitched up her thighs, and Snape found himself placing his hands on her thighs to help steady her.

Whatever Snape had been expecting her to do, this wasn't it. He nearly choked in surprise as she lowered herself over his very sensitive parts, which led to his instant attention. "Miss Granger!" he choked.

"So are you not giving me permission?" she asked sweetly, squirming a bit. "I will get off if you wish."

"I, ah, . . ." he felt at a loss for words. "Yes, ah, you may sit on, on my lap, of course . . ."

"Thank you," she told him. "You look different than what you did when you were a Professor."

"I would hope so," he answered, trying to focus his mind. "I was in disguise; the greasy git, the bat of the dungeons. I had a part to play."

"Your hair and your teeth look much better now," she observed, moving a bit more on his lap.

"I'm gratified to hear that," he replied, trying not to pay attention to her movement on his lap. "They were easy things fixed with simple spells and potions."

"You know," she observed, squirming a bit more. "It seems strange to me that you have now spanked me twice and have touched my naughty bits, and yet we have not kissed at all."

"I suppose that is unusual," he conceded, suddenly thinking with pleasure of touching those bits.

"I haven't kissed a man in so many years, so if I am to leave, do you think we could kiss a bit . . ."

She's seducing me, she's seducing me, his brain screamed at him, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care. Having this pretty and willing witch sitting this way on his lap was doing a lot to lower his resolve to get this witch to a different country.

"Well, ah, if it's something you wish so much . . ."

Hermione took that as permission and kissed him gently, tasting the tea on his breath. His response started tentatively and gently, as if he was unsure he was allowed to kiss her like this, and then she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her close. The kiss gained strength, and she felt his passion burn for her. His tongue explored her mouth, gently at first and then gaining strength and ardor. She pressed against his chest, feeling his strong arms pull her in.

He broke away from her, breathing heavily.

"Miss Granger, you don't know what you're doing," he panted. "I can't . . ."

"I'm a virgin, not an idiot," she replied. "I know what I'm doing. I want this."

"Surely you don't want your first time to be with me," he told her, his voice raw. "No mission is worth this."

"I want my first time to be with you," she told him firmly. "Whether or not you agree to my plan, whether or not you agree to a week, whatever. Surely you know this is about more than a mission."

"But I'm not a good person . . ."

"I want you."

"You couldn't possibly . . ."

"Shut up and kiss me some more," she told him with a smile, pulling her blouse off over her head, revealing a sensible black bra. "Don't treat me like a child who doesn't know what she wants. And I can feel how much you want this, too."

There was no denying her observation; he wanted her badly. Even the intimacy of kissing was rare in his world; the few witches he had been with had often only been after his services he could give them and their fantasies; they had been little interested in giving pleasure to him. What they had given him had been enough, but he had never had a witch give themselves to him with such reckless abandon as Hermione just did. He found himself surrendering, capturing her mouth in his. His hands went to her waist to feel her soft skin, encouraging the squirming on his lap that felt so good.

"I feel the need to ask your permission for every touch," he told her with a gasp.

"Don't," she told him, her breathing quickening. "I will use red if I need to. I'm giving you permission now."

Finding it still hard to believe, his hands trailed up her back, unhooking her bra and releasing her breasts from their confinement. Kissing them softly, almost reverently, she gasped at the intensity of her reaction to that.

"Miss Granger," he smirked. "I think we both want to enjoy this." Wandlessly, he waved his hand, and the sofa turned into a large, soft bed with sumptuous bedcoverings. Placing his hands on her hips, he gently pivoted her around so that her back was on the silky sheets of the bed, her legs still spread around his hips. He kissed her again, this time with more strength, pivoting himself to her side as he gently pulled off her skirt and panties. She flinched a bit as the waistband of the skirt scraped over her bottom, and Snape saw the wince. Smiling, he gently rubbed her bottom.

"Miss Granger, is your bottom sore?" he asked, smirking a bit.

"It is," she told him, leaning into his rubbing. "All nice and tingly."

"Hmm, nice and red," he observed, rubbing his palms over the hot flesh. "How did you like the paddle?"

"I think I like the hand spanking better," she told him. "But the paddle was intense, I could feel it in my core. Like, all the way, deep inside."

"Sometimes a more intense implement will give you a more intense response," he told her. "Perhaps I should ask you when you have more experience."

"Can we take off your clothes too?" she asked him.

Snape rarely took off more than was necessary for the act, but when he saw her face, trusting and innocent, he softened. "I am . . . scarred, Miss Granger. I didn't want to . . . unduly frighten you."

"I am not easily frightened, Professor," she told him. "Allow me." With that, Hermione brushed her hands over the line of tiny buttons, causing them to open, and eased his coat off his shoulders. She did the same for his shirtwaist and then his shirt. She took a sharp breath at seeing his scars, not in fear but in sympathy.

"Your body is a testament to the suffering you have borne," she whispered lowly. "Did even Dumbledore know the extent of it?"

"Nobody did," he shook his head. "I am very clever at potions, and that kept me patched up enough, kept my flesh knitted together and my bones well enough. My status as a half-blood did little to protect me, the pureblood wizards didn't face the same punishment. Many other half-bloods did not survive."

"And this scar," Hermione observed, touching gently the faded outline of the deatheater mark, now a ghost of a memory on Snape's pale flesh.

"This scar is the worst one of all," Snape told her in disgust. "This scar is the result of the most foolish decision I ever made in my life."

"Or you could say that that scar allowed you to be in a place to protect people," she told him. "You were able to be a spy for Dumbledore."

"Fat lot of good that did anyone," he snorted. "Everyone died."

"Everyone but you and me," she told him. "We have both lived with grief for so many years. We can give in to that grief right now, or we can enjoy each other's bodies, scars and all. I don't have as many scars as you do, though I do have a bit on my right shoulder from learning to cast Fiendfyre, and you can still see the scars where Bellatrix tortured me if you look closely. But right now, do you want Bellatrix and her boss to win? Do you want to be so ashamed at what they did to our bodies that we can't enjoy them?"

He looked at her then, realizing she really wasn't the girl he had known so many years ago. This was a woman who had been through much, not the idealistic chit who wouldn't see sense in school.

"Scars are sexy," she told him with a smirk. "Come and kiss me again."

He listened to her, and he began to kiss her again, pressing her down onto the bed. She ran her hands over him, feeling the scarred skin, letting him know that there was nothing about his body that repulsed her. His trousers were gone in another minute, and she could barely bring herself to look. She had, due to close quarters and difficult circumstances, seen some number of men unclothed, including in the course of treating wounds. However, it was quite another situation when it was a man who was about to become your lover.

She did look down at him, his member erect and ready, and she gasped a bit. Was that actually supposed to fit inside of her? She closed her eyes, willing herself not to think about it and trusting the Professor that it would work.

Snape kissed the scar on her neck, hungry to possess her. Seeing her fully naked, her soft body willing and open to him, was almost more than he could handle. He knew he had to be gentle and slow – she was a virgin after all – but he found himself wishing he was not so lustful himself. This was going to take control and care, because even though she was teasing and goading her into it, he knew that the first time a woman lay with a man was a sacred thing, and he had no intention of disrespecting it.

Hermione felt his fingers find her sensitive spots, and she gasped in response. She responded with her body pressing into his hand, wanting more. His caresses were gentle and sure, building her response nearly to a frenzy. He cast the necessary spells for lubrication and for contraception. Whatever complications arose in their life, a baby was the last thing they needed. Gently, carefully, his finger entered her, causing her to cry out.

"It's going to hurt a bit," he told her, his voice deep. "When I . . ."

"I know," she answered, looking at him with a half smile. "Do you think I would not do any research at all?"

Smiling a bit to himself at the reminder of who indeed he was bedding, he began kissing her mouth again, gently, and then deeply as he tried to widen her passage a bit with his finger. He had only a cursory knowledge of how to do this with a virgin properly; he didn't want to rush her, but she seemed like she was ready . . .

"Please, Professor . . ." she groaned, breaking away from the kiss. "Please."

That was really all the encouragement he needed, feeling quite ready himself, and so he positioned himself once more between her legs. He began to enter her gently, and her eyes flew wide as he slowly and carefully fully entered her.

"Oh!" she said, startled.

"Green?" he asked, gasping from the self-control it took to just enter and stay there.

"Green," she nodded, uncertain. "There is, well, more to it, though, isn't there?"

"There is," he smiled. "Kiss me again."

Their mouths found each other again as his skilled fingers found her sensitive spots, and he began to, very gently, thrust.

"Oh!" she cried out. "Oh Professor!"

"Green?" he gasped, praying she wasn't asking him to stop, as he wasn't sure how he was going to be able to. He had been so long deprived, and to be met with such an honest and full embrace – it was absolutely intoxicating.

"Oh yes, green!" she answered. "It feels so . . . full . . . intense . . ."

Snape then continued with joy, nuzzling her neck and caressing her more firmly, wanting to bring her to completion. Her body responded fully, her hips bucking against him in rhythm and her back arching in pleasure. And then she cried out deeply, her whole body spasming in pleasure, her cries filling the room. With a sigh of pleasure, Snape let himself go as well, following her completion with a groan and a shudder from deep within himself.

Collapsing on the bed beside Hermione, he pulled her close to his chest and a blanket over both of them. For several minutes, they just breathed together, each of them catching their breath and recovering from the intensity of the experience they had just had.

"It did hurt a bit," Hermione told him, wiggling her body a bit experimentally.

"More than when I did this?" he smiled, patting her backside.

"Nowhere near that," she laughed. "It hurt just a bit when you first . . . went in. But then after that . . ."

"After that, what?" he pressed.

"After that, it felt wonderful," she sighed. "Was it like that for you, too?"

"Yes," he answered, startled at his easy answer. He felt no desire to have any guile in his answer, no protection, no misdirection.

"So am I a good lover?" she asked with a giggle.

"Absolutely," he answered with sincerity.

"I have so many questions . . ." she sighed

"I'm sure you do," he answered her, pulling her close. "Let's enjoy the moment right now. I don't think I have the brain cells to answer your questions right now, it will have to be later."

She gave a small laugh and then snuggled closer to him. "So, do I have a week then?"

"You have a week," he answered.