The Potions Storeroom

Disclaimers: I don't own these characters. Though I certainly wish I owned Snape!

This story came into being due to the scene from the new GOF movie where Snape and Harry are talking in the Potions Storeroom. It was the second time I had seen the movie and some ideas for a short PWP came into my head. Of course I can't seem to write a short story or one without plot so this is what appeared. It should only be two to three chapters at most.

Special thanks to my beta, Snarkyroxy. Any mistakes found are of my doing and were created after she took the time to beta this story.

Chapter 1: I come to you defenses down with the trust of a child…


She wanted to knock both their heads together. With each footfall closer to her destination, she imagined another curse she could use that wouldn't be illegal but would still knock some sense into the two boys she considered her best friends.

They had really done it this time. Their behavior in class had cost her, and now for the first time in several years she had a detention. And not just any detention, but one with Professor Snape.

Ron felt terrible about it at first and then had told her it was her turn. She had done plenty of sneaky things and had not been caught for them.

Harry had been angry. More angry with Professor Snape than anyone else. He'd talked back again and earned himself a detention as well; the odd thing was, he wasn’t serving it with Professor Snape, as Hermione was. He was serving it with Filch.

She knew the hatred that Harry possessed for the former Potions and now D.A.D.A. Professor, and she was convinced that Professor Snape loathed Harry just as much.

Her nerves grew as she approached Professor Snape's office. He had chosen to remain in the dungeons instead of relocating to the back of his new classroom. The former Death Eater certainly knew the material being taught in his class. In fact, Hermione thought the man was brilliant. While he did not use Unforgivables in class as Professor Moody AKA Barty Crouch, Jr. had done, he still managed to get the point across.

It seemed this year that Snape disliked her even more than in the past five years, and that didn't sit well with Hermione. She had hoped that at some point he might notice her intelligence and hard work. She didn't expect a reward or extravagant praise, as that was very unlike Professor Snape, but some small acknowledgement would have been nice. Instead, Professor Snape ignored her completely, and when he graded her work he wrote her mark and nothing else on her parchments. Gone were the snide comments he would leave about her essays being too long or too informative. She wondered if something was wrong with him; he did cast the appearance of being unwell these past few weeks.

The dungeons seemed colder than normal as she knocked on the aged wooden door of Professor Snape's office. She expected her teacher to bid her to enter. She didn't plan on the door flying open dramatically to reveal Professor Snape standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.

She jumped, and he sneered. She noticed immediately that he was not wearing his teaching robes. He was dressed in his customary black button-down wool coat with a white shirt beneath and black pants and boots. He looked even thinner than she last remembered. His face seemed paler, but there was something different about his hair. It didn't appear quite as greasy as normal. It had been cut, layered to be more exact, and it appeared fuller due to the layers. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

"Quite finished taking inventory, Miss Granger?" Snape asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione lowered her eyes quickly, finding the old stone tiles on the floor suddenly interesting. Gods, she'd been caught staring at him!

"The tiles will not sprout legs and run away without magical help. I can assure you."

She looked up, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

Snape began to walk away with confident ground-eating strides. The sound of his boots hitting the floor echoed throughout the empty stone halls. He turned to face her when he realized she was not following.

"Sometime this century would be preferred, Miss Granger."

She followed him quickly, her brown loafers clicking on the tile floor as she trailed after him. They walked for a while until they were in one of the many halls lined with carpet and portraits. As Hermione walked by one of the framed mirrors, she wondered if not wearing her uniform and school robes had been appropriate. She had run out of time while studying and only realized now what she was wearing. She had chosen a dark green hooded jumper with a white shirt beneath and her beige corduroy pants to study comfortably. Her bushy hair was loose and cascading in chaotic curls down her shoulders and back.

Professor Snape had not commented on her attire, though, so she decided not to dwell on the matter any longer.

Hermione froze as they stopped along a section of the wall that she recognized. While to most it appeared as a part of hallway wall, she knew there was a hidden door.

Snape muttered a spell and the wall melted to reveal an old wooden door. He opened the door with a key and several wards to reveal a storeroom, more of a closet than anything else. The room was small in width, but the ceiling was at least twenty feet high. The walls had shelves upon shelves of bottles, jars, and envelopes, all containing ingredients for potions brewing. She noticed the two lit lanterns hanging and several rolls of parchment on the second step of the black wooden ladder that traveled up the entire length of one wall.

Hermione felt nervous and confused. She had not seen this room since her second year, and she didn’t understand why Professor Snape had brought her to it. "Sir, forgive me if this is a stupid question, but-"

"I do not answer stupid questions, Miss Granger, but I will indulge your little mind," he snapped. "Despite the fact that I am no longer the Potions Professor of this school, that does not mean I no longer brew potions. Most of the ingredients found in this storeroom belong to me and not the school, despite common belief," he snapped harshly. "While Professor Slughorn may appear to be a brilliant Potions master, his organizational skills leave something to be desired. We will organize this room to its former glory."

His dark eyes took on a wicked gleam and he tilted his head to one side. "I'm fairly certain you know exactly where most things go, since the lacewing flies and other ingredients you stole to make Polyjuice Potion during your second year were arranged behind other, less important ingredients."

Hermione gasped and Professor Snape took the opportunity to push her into the room and slam the door behind them.

He thrust one of the parchments from the ladder into her hand. "You will organize this right wall. They are ingredients that can be arranged alphabetically without fear of a reaction between containers. I will arrange the ingredients above, which are more volatile. You are to alert me of any potions not on the parchment so that I may refill my supply."

"Yes, sir."

He waited a moment and was surprised when she did not bother him with any other questions. He seemed satisfied and began climbing the ladder and shuffling bottles and containers.

Hermione set to work.


It was much later that Hermione noticed how hot it was in the storeroom. There was no ventilation and the stale air as well as her and Professor Snape's body temperature were making the room uncomfortable. She didn't dare ask if she could get a breath of fresh air for fear that he might bite her head off.

She risked a glance up to see her teacher standing four feet above her. She liked his new hairstyle and wondered what brought about the change. Had he met someone or was he just interested in a new look? Perhaps he was tired of being called a Greasy Git.

"Staring at my backside will not cause your task to be completed," said a deep voice.

Hermione jumped, nearly knocking over a bottle of something slimy, probably the intestines of some unfortunate creature.

Snape climbed down the ladder and fixed his dark eyes upon her.

"I…" She backed against the wall as he started toward her. The bottles clinked behind her as her back brushed against them.

Snape frowned, his eyebrows furrowing over his obsidian eyes. "Do you fear me, Miss Granger? Do you believe I will hit you, curse you or something worse?"

She shook her head.

"Then why do you withdraw from me?" His expression was suddenly less intimidating and severe.

Hermione let out a deep breath. Surprisingly, Professor Snape seemed concerned about her behavior. She couldn't help the honesty that escaped. "Perhaps I am a little afraid."

Snape pursed his lips and stared at her for a long time before he backed away and climbed two steps of the ladder again.

Hermione inhaled sharply and turned back to the wall to continue arranging. If she didn't know any better, she would have said the usually uncaring Professor Snape was almost hurt by her answer. Interesting…

She didn't know how much time had passed before his voice broke the silence.

"You would be much more intelligent if you allowed yourself to take a few more risks."

"Sir?" His words stung her like an insult. Was it payback for her fear of him?

"You are a walking Hogwarts Library Encyclopedia. You have more information crammed into that brain than most, and yet you lack real knowledge."

She looked up at him and frowned. How could one compliment and insult in the same breath?

"You refuse to take risks. You refuse to experiment," Snape told her as he moved bottles from one shelf to another. " Instead, you believe everything you read and never learn, only process and store, much like a Muggle computer."

Hermione's lips parted in surprise. He was talking to her in a normal tone, he was giving her advice and he knew about computers?

"Forgive me, but taking risks and experimenting leaves the option of failing, sir."

"Indeed it does. Is that what frightens you, Miss Granger?" His eyes locked with hers. "That you might fail something? None of us are perfect. I am certain I know all about that. "

Hermione's eyes widened. Was he attempting to joke with her?

"I don't want to be perfect, sir," she finally answered. "I just strive to be the best I can be."

Snape sighed. "I am certain, at this moment, you would much rather be re-reading materials you have read at least three times by now, in either the library or your room, but you are not here as punishment. I have not recorded this as a detention on your perfect little record," he snapped, suddenly irritated.

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then she realized what he was saying. He had wanted her help and couldn't or wouldn't ask for it. He was too stubborn and most likely too proud.

They stared at each other in quiet understanding before she nodded and thanked him.

He went back to his work and she to hers for a while more.

One of the lanterns blew out and Snape attempted to re-light it but, with no oil left, was unsuccessful.

Hermione was about to suggest that perhaps he use a spell to re-light it, but knew he might get angry with her for telling him what to do. Professor Snape was anything but stupid.

"We have accomplished less than half as much as I'd hoped, but apparently fate is working against me," he muttered in annoyance. He spun to face her, his hair whirling around his pale features. "And before you suggest it, I cannot use magic on this lantern. It is a normal Muggle lantern, both of these are. I cannot risk bringing magic into this room because it may react with some of the ingredients."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I still have enough light down here to work by, sir. I'd like to finish," she offered. She was sincere in her offering; this assignment wasn't so terrible, and now that she knew it was not a detention, she was thrilled that Professor Snape wanted her in his company.

Snape raised a dark brow at that, but simply nodded. Only Hermione Granger would remain in the company of the Greasy Git to finish her task. Only she would be enjoying something like this. Or perhaps it wasn't enjoyment, but the knowledge of where things would be in case she needed them again. He smirked to himself before he moved the ladder and stepped beside her. Soon they began to work together.

She would read the name on the jar and he would place it in its proper place.

"Professor Slughorn certainly is not neat, is he?" she asked to make conversation.

A deep chuckle filled the storeroom, surprising Hermione. She had never heard Professor Snape laugh in her entire six years at Hogwarts.

"No. Neatness has never been his strong point, at least when it comes to the storeroom. And his penmanship is atrocious, as I am certain you have discovered."

"Sort of like another Potions Professor I know." Hermione laughed and then clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Her eyes grew wide and she removed her hand again. "Professor, I'm so sorry."

The corner of one side of Snape's lips tugged into a lopsided smile. "I will not claim my penmanship is legible. It never has been and that is not about to change."

She smiled gently and was flabbergasted that Snape's thin lips twitched into a slight smile of their own.

They returned to work, only this time she seemed much more aware of him. He had a certain smell about him. For someone who bore the appearance of being greasy, he smelled of spices and fresh soap. She inhaled and held her breath several times to retain the scent. It was quite pleasant.

She noticed the warmth of his body so close to her own as they stood side by side. She noted that he wasn't standing quite so straight anymore, that he was hunched and no doubt hurting from long days of teaching and long nights of spying.

What exactly was the spying like for him? What kind of life did Severus Snape lead outside of the classroom and school activities? Who did he talk to when he felt alone? She had never seen him with a woman or anyone else, for that matter, save the Headmaster. He seemed to indulge in solitude and books, very much like her.

Glancing him over at such a close distance, she noticed several scars that were usually hidden beneath his dark hair. One scar in particular intrigued her. It was long, running from behind his ear down his neck into the collar of his coat and shirt. How many scars did this man bear and how many had been earned from spying for the Order of the Phoenix?

Without thinking, she brushed Snape's hair back from his face for a better look. His hair was soft and fine and the scar appeared as if a sharp object had caused it. Gods, had one of the Death Eaters or Voldemort himself tortured her professor?

Snape jerked away at the sudden contact and turned toward her.

Hermione clutched her hand to her chest as if his hair had burned her. She had touched him without thinking, as if he had been Ron or Harry.

"What was the meaning of that, Miss Granger?" His voice was hoarse and lacked its normal bite.

"Your scar, sir. I…I was looking at it and I wanted to see it better. I wasn't thinking and- I’m sorry," she babbled.

She expected him to scold her or yell at her to leave, but instead he stood completely still for a moment. He then rendered her speechless as he brushed his hair back behind his ear.

She didn't move and it was very quiet except for the sound of their breathing. When she realized he was allowing her to inspect his injury, she tilted her head up and moved closer noticing the scar looked old. "How did you…?"

"A gift from my father shortly before my first year at Hogwarts, " he told her, pulling his hair forward and standing to his full height.

Her eyes widened and locked with his.

"He often came home drunk and did many things he couldn't remember when morning came."

Snape looked away and his eyes took on a far away gaze as he lost himself in the memory of his youth. "He staggered after me with a kitchen knife because I was out of bed at such a late hour. He'd spent the night drowning in alcohol and losing the small bit of money we had to live on for the next week."

"I'm so sorry," she told him honestly.

Snape shook his head, his dark hair settling to once again frame his pale face. "The bastard's dead now. He can't harm anyone any longer."

Hermione didn't miss the hatred in his tone, nor did she miss the sadness. She instantly remembered Harry talking about his lessons with Snape and how a man with a large nose was beating a woman while Snape, as a child, watched. Apparently, Professor Snape's father didn't just beat women; he beat his own son.

The silence grew long as they both remained in thought.

The fact that Professor Snape's father drank a lot was most likely why she had never seen her teacher consume a single alcoholic beverage. She wondered if he worried that he might turn out like his father.

"I've never heard you talk about yourself before," Hermione noted aloud.

"No one has ever asked," he replied softly. An underlying sentence was there, because no one has ever cared.

She smiled at him, and for the first time that evening noticed how different he looked when he wasn't sneering or angry. For a man in his late thirties, he had far too many deeply etched lines between his eyes and at the sides of his mouth. He would never be a very attractive man, but she wondered what he might look like if he had not gone through so much turmoil and stress.

"I'd like to know. I find you intriguing, and your voice is intoxicating." She blushed bright red as she realized what she'd just admitted.

Snape's dark eyebrows rose in surprise before he turned away harshly. "These potions will not organize themselves," he grunted.

Hermione frowned. He had just begun to open up to her and, as usual, her big mouth had ruined things. She silently cursed herself for saying too much.

They returned to work and once again Hermione noticed certain things about her teacher. She realized she had never seen him with facial hair. She noted that she liked him clean shaven, just as she liked him wearing black. She felt he might benefit from dark greens, blues and grays, but any other color would be unsuitable.

With sadness, Hermione realized she didn't know much about him at all, but she was very interested in getting to know him better. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, which she would be joining soon enough.

The reality that he wanted her assistance and had opened up slightly to her made her feel good about her faith in him. The boys doubted him and wished horrible things would happen to him, but she did not, would not…could not. There was something about him that made her trust him, something beyond the knowledge that Albus Dumbledore trusted him.

A callused hand brushed her hair back behind her ears, startling her out of her thoughts.

"The jar you hold is half open," Snape informed her quietly. "If your hair should get into it, you will burn it to the roots." He raised his eyebrows and smirked, his anger seemingly gone.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at him. She liked him as he was tonight and could get used to this change. His guard was down, and he was no longer insulting her.

He reached to take the jar from her and their flesh met. She trembled slightly at the unexpected feeling that washed over her. She knew she was not the only one who felt it, because she heard his harsh intake of breath at the contact.

They stared at each other, and his dark eyes bored into her brown ones. From the corner of her eyes, she could see his Adam's apple bobbing each time he swallowed.

She licked her lips and swallowed, too, and his eyes followed the action before returning to her face.

The man before her appeared much different to the one who had entered the room earlier in the night. He looked vulnerable, confused and lonely.

Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach as Snape bent closer to her. She had a wild feeling of what might happen if she didn't step back and yet she couldn't seem to move.

Snape loomed closer, but still Hermione did not move away. She figured he would come to his senses and back away in horror, but he didn't. He closed his eyes and brushed his lips ever so slightly against hers. His thin lips were surprisingly soft and remained pressed gently to hers. He made no move to part her mouth or thrust his tongue between her lips.

He expected her to shove him away and call him a dirty old man. He never thought in his wildest dreams that she would press back against his mouth.

The awkwardness that accompanied a person when they experienced their first kiss was thick in the air around them. Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn't seem to breathe. His mouth was warm, his lips soft and his pace exceedingly slow and delicate. She would have never expected this from Severus Snape.

Snape held back the gasp that threatened to escape when he felt Hermione's fingers entwine in his hair.

She couldn't seem to help herself. His hair had been so soft that first time she had touched it, and her fingers itched to touch it once again.

His own hands roamed cautiously, his fingers running up and down her arms as if trying to keep her warm. She quivered in his arms and he wondered if it was due to desire, revulsion or fear.

He pulled away, glancing over her and getting a sick satisfaction from seeing her lips swollen from his kisses. For several moments they stood watching each other, their breathing labored. Who would come to their senses first and end this before it truly began? They had already gone so far beyond what was acceptable.

Snape waited for her to yell at him or push him or threaten to run to the Headmaster. He waited for her to cry or breakdown, but Hermione did none of those things.

She stepped forward, her eyes not leaving his until they slipped closed, and she pressed her mouth to his.

This time the kiss was not nearly as gentle. It was full of need. Neither could recall whose tongue escaped into the other's mouth first, but soon they were exploring.

Hermione could hear a voice within her shouting to stop, that this was a teacher - Professor Snape at that - but the voice faded with each passing moment. She ran her fingers through his hair, amazed at how soft it was, how silky. Snape moaned into her mouth as she massaged his scalp with her nails.

Snape couldn't stop himself, although something told him this wasn't right. She was young, his student and with the war it was all wrong. Before he could pull away, Hermione surprised him again. She unzipped her jumper so that it opened to reveal the white shirt she wore beneath it.

She took one of his hands and examined each of his long fingers with her own before she pressed his hand against her breast, letting him know it was all right to touch her. Her nipple hardened the instant his palm pressed against the fabric that concealed it. Blood rushed straight to his groin and he felt himself harden in response.

Snape lightly kissed her mouth, her cheek and then tilted her head to kiss the underside of her jaw line. Her soft gasp was nearly his undoing.

Her fingers continued to massage his scalp and her lips returned to his. "Hermione…" he whispered deeply into her mouth.

It was the first time he had ever spoken her given name and it caused a warmth to begin in the pit of her stomach and spread in all directions.

He moved his fingers in slow circles around her nipple and soon she was breathing heavily. He gave her breast a tentative squeeze and she arched her back.

"Se-Severussss…" she moaned.

The sound of his name escaping from her lips in such a wanton way caused him to grow even harder. He pressed his thighs to hers and she gasped at the feel of him against her. He knew they shouldn't be doing this; he wasn't even sure how this had happened or how they progressed this far this fast, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Severus Snape wanted Hermione Granger, his student or not, and if she was willing, he intended to have her. He needed this; he needed her, and he wasn't about to let anything, but her desire to cease, stop him.

Hermione could feel him hard and throbbing against her stomach, and it aroused her beyond reason. The entire situation was inappropriate. He was a teacher and she was his student. And he was Snape. Cruel, twisted, ugly hook-nosed Snape. But she didn't see him that way. She respected him. She somehow understood him, and while not the most attractive man, his appearance was not displeasing to her. After all, who was she to poke fun at him when she was buck-toothed and bushy-haired?

What scared her was how much she wanted him. She had never fancied him before, but in the span of their time in this room, that had changed.

His mouth left hers and he tilted her head back again to place kisses along her jaw and neck. He took her earlobe between his teeth and sucked gently. She pressed against his body in response, and it took all of Snape's will power to keep from thrusting her against the wall.

She began to fumble with the buttons of his wool coat, her hands trembling.

"Far too many buttons…" she joked, her voice quivering.

"Indeed." His voice shook just as much as hers. He released her face to kiss her mouth, covered her hands with his, and in between kisses they undid each and every button from his neck to his navel. She helped him shrug the coat off his shoulders, and then down his arms until it pooled on the floor like black ink.

She stopped to look at him for a moment, her head cocked to one side.

"What is it?" he asked softly. For a moment, he feared she would come to her senses this time and shove him away to run screaming down the halls how the Great Bat had seduced her and tried to get into her knickers. Severus, you're a fool, a voice within him taunted.

"It's so strange to see you in white," she admitted softly. She brushed her hands over the fabric, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin.

Snape shivered despite the warm temperature of the room.

"We will have to fix that problem." He began to undo each button. Hermione didn’t take her eyes off his hands as they worked. Mesmerized, she removed her jumper and let it drop to the floor without thought.

As Snape reached the last button, Hermione moved one hand forward and pushed the fabric aside from his neck and collarbone. She slid her hand between the fabric and his skin, and Snape closed his eyes as she explored slowly.

His skin was warm and smooth, except for some small sections of raised skin, which she assumed were scars. She felt very little hair between his pectorals as she pushed the fabric away from him and the white shirt fell atop the black coat, leaving him bare from the waist up.

Snape watched the fire that had been in her eyes die, and he swallowed, thinking she found him repulsive. He looked away, suddenly feeling foolish, ashamed and angry that he had allowed this to happen and had lost so much control. But when he gazed back at her again, he saw sadness and concern in her eyes. He felt her fingers begin to glide over the scars that littered his upper body.

"I…I had no idea there would be so many…" she allowed softly.

Snape inhaled, breathing in and realizing she smelled of lavender. He rolled her words around in his mind as she continued to trace each of his scars with her fingers. The way she'd phrased her sentence made him wonder if she'd thought about what lay beneath his robes at some point. The thought that she may have caused his erection to twitch.

"Leave them," he told her softly, and he reached for the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up and she raised her arms so he could draw it over her head. Hermione had always been thin, but she seemed to have lost even more weight this year. She'd most likely been worried about Potter and Weasley, just as he worried about his future and the future of Albus and the school.

Snape lowered his head and brushed his nose against one of her breasts. The pale blue bra she wore was silky against his skin.

Hermione reached behind her to undo the clasp, but Snape shook his head. "Allow me…"

He released the clasp after two attempts and carefully lowered the straps from her arms. He stopped and waited, giving her the option to stop if she chose. She pulled the bra off completely.

Snape let his eyes take in her upper body and her breasts before he took one of her nipples into the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Ohhhh!" she gasped, arching her back.

The motion brought her closer to his body and Snape couldn't help himself; he pulled her to him using one leg to hold her in place, firmly against his erection.

He laved and suckled her nipple, biting gently while one hand caressed the other breast. Then he switched breasts, giving each the same glorious torture.

Hermione began to rock against him, unable to contain the small sounds of pleasure that escaped her mouth. One of her hands reached between their bodies to cup his erection through his trousers. Snape released her breasts after several moments, gasping for air.

"You little vixen," he purred into her ear.

She smiled, blushed shyly and pressed her lips to his cheek.

Snape sighed in response. Gods, what was the Gryffindor doing to him to make him lose his control like this? He was surely going insane! He pressed a kiss to her cheek in an affectionate gesture that was uncharacteristic of the person he normally was.

He began light circles down her stomach with one long finger as she worked on the buttons of his trousers.

"Must you wear garments with so many damned little buttons?"

He chuckled softly.

Hermione slipped one hand between the trousers and the fabric of his undergarments. He was indeed quite hard, and she could feel his erection pulse in reaction to her touch. His hand left her body and he tugged at his trousers. They slipped easily down his thighs once they were pushed past his behind, and he stepped out of them and his boots as well.

In the dim light, she could see his erection straining against the fabric of his gray undergarments, begging for release. She obliged, slipping the fabric down and carefully over his engorged flesh and then his slender rear. He was beautiful in the warm yellow lantern light. A thin line of black hair trailed from his navel down to the thicker patch of hair at the base of his jutting erection. His shaft stood slightly away from his lithe body, tall and proud, twitching in response to her hungry eyes and his desire to bury himself within her.

Hermione felt a rush of desire wash over her and she suddenly felt moist between her thighs. She had never seen Severus with a woman, had never seen him be anything but cruel and bitter, and yet tonight, with her, he was different.

The smooth red tip of his glans was peeking from his foreskin, and a pearly white liquid was seeping from the tip dribbling down one side of his shaft. She couldn't resist the temptation to touch him, and she lightly brushed her fingers along his erection.

He inhaled sharply and she stopped, thinking she might be hurting him. But one look up revealed that his eyes were closed in ecstasy. He groaned as she wrapped a hand around his length, using it to move his foreskin back, while the fingers of her other hand moved to the head and smeared the pearl liquid over it.

Snape encouraged her to move the hand wrapped around him. She soon found a rhythm, and he began to groan and thrust upward into her fist. It continued for several seconds before he pushed her hands away and crushed her mouth with a kiss.

He kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in an imitation of penetration. One of his hands slipped between her legs as he cupped her through her pants.

Hermione moaned and felt him unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down. Her undergarments followed seconds later and she stepped out of them, leaving her as naked as he.

They stood, glancing one other over.

Snape trailed his fingers over her ribs and she echoed the movement on his body. They were both thinner than normal, and they both knew it was due to the toll this year was taking on their minds and bodies. They were more alike than either of them dared to admit out loud.

He teased her by gently stroking the flesh of her stomach and making circles around her thighs. Each time she would shift so he could touch her lower, he moved his hand away.

He chuckled as she let out a groan, and she slanted her eyes in mock anger and very real frustration.

"Tell me what you want of me," he drawled in a low tone that made her shiver.

"I…" she swallowed, unable to speak.

"Instruct me…" he purred. He kissed her neck, allowing his tongue to dart out to taste the flesh. Then he blew his breath against the wet flesh, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

"Touch me…"

"I am touching you, " he replied, stroking her side.

"Not there," she groaned in annoyance.

"Here?" he asked, brushing his fingers around her belly button.

She shook her head.

"Here?" he asked again, this time stroking her inner thigh.

"Hi-Higher…"

She moaned as his hand slid further up and over the patch of hair just above the junction of her thighs.

He paused again, his expression turning to one of concern. "This may hurt. I will attempt to be gentle."

She grinned. "It shouldn't hurt."

He arched one of his eyebrows. "A know-it-all such as yourself should know that a woman's first time will hurt."

"I do know that, but this isn't my first time."

Snape blinked and his mouth parted in surprise.

"Before you start making assumptions, it wasn't Harry or Ron. It wasn’t anyone that you know."

He pursed his lips and feigned annoyance.

"And what about you?" She trailed a finger down the middle of his chest. "Are you a virgin?" she asked boldly.

He shook his dark head and didn't dare tell her his first time was not by choice.

Before she could shower him with further questions, he inserted one, then two fingers into the moist cavern between her legs, and she arched her back. "Oh, God…"

Snape smiled, rather pleased with the effect he was having on her. He thrust his fingers in and out of her gently, establishing a rhythm. His thumb stroked at the hard nub above his plunging fingers.

Her moans were getting louder and she was shaking; he knew she was close to release. He stroked the spongy flesh just within her harder and felt and heard her moan as she climaxed. Her muscles clamped around his fingers tightly as her head fell back, and his name left her lips in three delayed syllables.

She collapsed against him and after several moments had passed he removed his hand from her.

He let her rest a moment, her cheek pressed against his chest as she tried to calm her breathing. He was pleased to know that she was not a virgin, though at the same time it made him wonder who had been fortunate enough to be her first. The possessiveness that overtook him surprised him, and he held her close.

She could feel him hard against her belly. Now that her vision was slowly returning after the explosion behind her eyelids, she was ready and willing to please him.

He leaned back against the ladder, pulling her with him. They watched each other and he ran his fingers through her messy, damp hair. She slid a hand between them to touch him, and he grasped her wrist, shaking his head.

"I won't last…" he whispered regretfully.

He lifted her up slowly so she would understand what he wanted of her. Being a bright witch, she caught on and climbed a few steps up the ladder, her feet on either side of his body. She kissed her way up as she went, and then she straddled him. She wrapped her legs around his lithe body and held onto the railing of the ladder with her hands.

Using his hand, Snape guided his shaft toward her, and she gasped and he shuddered as the head and foreskin met the flesh of her sex. He moved slowly, pressing upward while she lowered herself down. Inch by excruciating inch, his erection disappeared into her eager body. He placed his hands about her waist and pushed her up while he pulled down. He lowered her while at the same time pumping himself into her shallowly several times before thrusting hard and deep. This became their rhythm and all too soon it became too much.

They were each gasping and moaning, clutching, thrusting, panting.

Snape couldn't have enough of her, couldn't bury himself into her deeply enough, while Hermione felt Snape couldn't fill her enough.

She brushed her fingers lightly over his nipples and they tightened at the touch. His head fell back against one of the steps of the ladder.

"Circe…Hermione…" he panted.

She kissed the underside of his jaw, running her tongue along it.

His muscles tightened, and he wasn't prepared for the explosive orgasm that took his body so quickly. His final thrust took him deep. His body went rigid for only a moment before his hips jerked upward and he spurted his seed in hot torrents into her womb. He heard her gasp and felt her muscles tighten around him as she found her release mere moments later.

Snape fell back completely against the ladder, shaking and covered in sweat. Hermione was pressed against him, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

His heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear, but he could make out her voice saying something softly. He opened his eyes when he felt a few small kisses being placed upon his cheek.

"Oh, please, don't cry. It's all right."

He didn't realize he was crying until he heard her words, and then he felt the salty tears wetting his face.

Snape felt horrified. Gods, he was crying like some pathetic child, and yet the witch in his arms did not seem repulsed by it in the least. She was wiping away his tears and running her fingers through his damp hair.

He pushed away from the ladder, their bodies still joined and her legs wrapped around his waist. He hugged her closer to him, trembling as he did so. He buried his face into her unruly hair and silently cursed the world around him.

It was all so unfair…