Lost Souls Found

Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

This chapter is the consummation of their marriage. If you don’t like smut, please skip this and move on to the next chapter!

Thank you for the comments and concerns given over the previous chapter of this all being a little sudden. Some of you think it’s too sudden, while others are telling me ‘it’s about time’. Heh. I guess I can’t please everyone. (wink)

Seriously, though, I will go back and see how I can edit to make things flow more smoothly. I assure you that this was planned from the beginning… This has been inevitable even to Severus’s mind since chapter 8, though he has been trying hard to deny it to himself and to her. The last several chapters in particular were supposed to show his decreasing self-disgust that has always been the primary barrier between them.

However, I have apparently arrived here rather clumsily if it has taken so many of my readers by surprise. I truly appreciate the honest comments, as I am always looking to improve the story as a whole.

I think I would have been facing mutiny if I had tried to hold it off much longer. (LOL) These two individuals are definitely ‘all or none’ sort of people. I apologize to anyone who is disappointed at this development… I am a romantic at heart, what other excuse can I offer? I promise I will not allow Snape to become mushy. My Betas are great at keeping me in line.

Thank you to my Betas, Elaine and Padfoot the Marauder, as well as input from two of our husbands! We redid this chapter several times. We really felt it had to be PERFECT and their comments and suggestions enriched it greatly. I hope you enjoy!

Lisa/Shanti

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Chapter 23: Consummation

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Severus tucked her hand very properly into his arm as they left Albus’s office, speaking to her in low tones.

“I will not ask you to live in the dungeons; I realize that not everyone enjoys the rather dark atmosphere. If you have no objections, we will reside in your quarters until the house is finished.”

She tried not to giggle at his formal attitude, especially when she could feel his nervous excitement that matched her own. “What house?”

“Our house, of course—we can’t continue to live exclusively at Hogwarts indefinitely. We will discuss this later. Right now I am trying to determine whether we are going to your quarters or mine?”

She blushed and shivered at the tone of his voice and the desire she felt from him, very thinly controlled. “Mine, then. It’s closer.”

He gave a brief nod of acquiescence. “Very well.”

She looked at her ring glittering in the candlelight of the hallway and couldn’t resist the question, “How long have you had this ring? Do you think I should wear it after all your talk of secrecy?”

He gave her a rather smug smile. “I have had it several days, though I ordered it after the fire. It’s a rare stone and took some time to acquire. And yes, I want you to wear it. That Skeeter woman essentially announced our engagement; so, let the world think we are engaged. There is no new danger in wearing the ring. Maybe it will be a deterrent to the likes of Cowboy Bill.”

She did giggle then and squeezed his arm as she felt the possessive male pride he had for her through their Bond. He wanted to ‘mark’ her as his own in some demonstrable way, and she was not the least averse to being ‘marked’.

He walked the rest of the way in silence, but when she opened her door he again revealed his hidden traditional, old-fashioned streak. He stopped her, picked her up with ease and carried her inside. Her excitement was heightened by the very primitively MALE sensations she felt from him—his primitive possessiveness that washed over her so that she was trembling in anticipation.

He gently let her down so that she was standing against him once inside. With a negligent wave of his wand, the door was closed and sealed. He pulled her close to him, but looked at her inquiringly when he felt her trembling. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she said, breathlessly, winding her fingers into his hair and pulling him down to her for a kiss. “Not cold—burning. Make me well and truly your wife, Severus.”

He kissed her hungrily, a groan of desire escaping him against her lips as he pulled her tightly against him, making her fully aware of his arousal as well. He wound his hands through the cascading silken mass of her hair and held her close.

For long, silent moments he kissed her hungrily, standing there. The amazing Bond they now shared heightened her awareness of him. His desire was no less than hers was, yet he seemed hesitant, almost reluctant. If Rowena had had to give it a word, she would have said he seemed suddenly shy of her!

“Severus?” she asked, pulling back slightly and looking uncertainly into his face.

He gave her a small, wry smile and sighed against her cheek as he pulled her close. “I dislike feeling awkward and inexperienced, Rowena. It is a strange experience for me. I think it is a common male concern—that one might be a disappointment to one’s partner, is it not?”

She shook her head and began to place hot tasting kisses at the sensitive joining of his neck and shoulder. “You are never awkward, Severus. We will learn together. There is no possible way you could disappoint me. Well, other than by refusing me now!”

He actually chuckled very slightly at this, and scooped her up into his arms again. “Fear not, my bride. You will not suffer THAT disappointment tonight.”

She murmured contentedly against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her to the bed. He laid her down upon it gently and pulled off her shoes, barely more than slippers. The heat of his hands at her ankles gave her delightful tremors of anticipation. He kicked off his boots and joined her there, laying beside her and kissing her deeply.

His hands caressed her body over the thin fabric of her dress robes. His lips left her mouth and began trailing hot nipping kisses down her throat to the sensitive area of her collarbone. His touch was gentle and exploring as his hands caressed her, patiently learning which touches brought sighs and moans of pleasure.

His hand sought the gentle swell of her breast and thrilled to her sharp intake of breath as he toyed with the peak, gently tweaking it with his fingers. He was almost reverent in his slow exploration of her, refusing to rush or do anything less than savor every detail of her body.

She was wild beside him. She matched him kiss for kiss as she nipped at his neck and ears, reveling in the warm, spicy scent of him; the feel of his firm, hard body crushed up against her softness. He had placed one thigh between her legs and her body instinctively writhed against him, the pressure of his leg against her mound giving her some small relief while driving her need higher.

He rolled to his side, pulling her with him, his lips returning to her mouth in hungry, devouring kisses. He nipped and teased her bottom lip with teeth and tongue, drinking in her familiar sweetness. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and deftly undid the buttons down the back of her robes. The clasp of her wispy bra gave him a moment’s pause, but he soon ascertained its mechanism and released it. When buttons and clasp were free, he rolled her back to her back and slowly drew off one sleeve and lacy shoulder strap, exposing arm and breast to his gaze.

She made a move to dim the lighting, which was soft but still felt too bright in her shyness. He stopped her, “I want to see you,” he said, his voice strange and husky. She blushed but acquiesced, bringing her arm back around him, her hands beginning on his buttons.

His gaze was intense as he learned her body. The emotions pouring from him were equal parts loving tenderness, reverent awe and passionate desire. His warm, strong hands with their long, thin fingers gently caressed her exposed flesh, finding the soft breast and exploring it gently with touch and sight. He pinched the nipple gently, noting its tightening and her sigh of pleasure with satisfaction.

He trailed kisses down her exposed arm, teasing the warm skin with teeth and tongue, at last making his way slowly across her chest to her breast. Finally his hot mouth found the sensitive peak. He took it in his mouth and laved it with his tongue, nipping gently and then more firmly with his teeth as she responded to him with moans and cries, pressing her body even more desperately against him.

He reached across her and pulled the other arm out of sleeve and bra, casting the scrap of satin and lace aside. He registered a moment of wry humor that she wore such modest clothing, yet such a delicate, feminine undergarment. Her robes were now around her waist, her beautiful breasts both bare to him.

He moved to the other side of her so that he could shower the newly exposed breast and arm with the same attentions as its twin. He was vaguely aware of her tugging at the buttons of his shirt in frustration and he gave a feral grin, her nipple gently clenched in his teeth, teasingly flicking the end with his tongue. His hair fell forward and tickled her chest sensuously as he paid his homage to her breasts.

She cried out and grabbed his hair, pushing his head harder against her in passion, her other hand still tugging at his shirt. “Severus,” she moaned his name in desperation, “Severus, I love your buttons. Something about them is incredibly sexy. But right at this moment, they’re maddening! Take this bloody shirt off!”

Silently, he removed his shirt, sitting up so that his back was to her.

She sat up so that she was behind him, her bare chest pressed against his back, her hands caressing, nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive nape of his neck, leaving hot trails of kisses along the exposed skin. Skin that was covered nearly everywhere in a web of fine scars—old scars from his childhood or perhaps Death Eater days, as well as the burn scars from the fire.

His shoulders were broad, the muscles of his back firm and well defined, but the scars spoke volumes of his past. Slowly, deliberately, she traced each scar with gentle kisses and caresses; showering each one with tenderness as though she could somehow wash away the pain of his past with her love.

She pulled him back to lie on the bed—it was her turn to look at him! His body was the thin, lightly muscled physique of a runner. His chest was also marred with old scars, fair-skinned and lightly covered with fine black hair. The Dark Mark on his left inner forearm shone black and ugly against his otherwise fair skin, and she felt his pang of shame through their Bond as he tried to conceal it from her view.

She ran her fingers in a gentle caress over the Mark, and kissed him tenderly. She kissed the scars on his chest as well, showing him in action and emotion through their Bond what had been so hard for him to believe in words—that she loved and accepted him, wholly and completely, just as he was. Even the terrible Mark on his arm did not escape her kisses.

She found her way to his dark nipples and paid them the same attentions of teeth and tongue that he had given to hers. Nipping and tasting, teasing them, and delighting to find that they responded to her touch just as hers did to his.

Her heart filled with his adoration of her that he was broadcasting as loudly as though he was shouting it through a bullhorn. She suspected now that part of his drive to conceal and contain his emotions stemmed from their passionate nature. That he was capable of great passion in his hatred and rage she had seen first-hand. That he was equally capable of deep love and ardent passion should not have come as a surprise. His relief and gratitude at her total acceptance of him seemed to ignite this passion to new heights.

He rolled her back onto her back so he could lay over her and again shower her with kisses. Her nipples were diamond-hard peaks, and the feel of them against the hairs on his chest was electric. He claimed her mouth, exploring the far corners with his tongue in a suggestive rhythm of thrusting and withdrawing, gently running it along her lip and then thrusting it against hers, tickling the inner recesses of her mouth.

He resumed his assault on her body, ensnaring her senses with hot, nipping kisses down her neck, across both breasts, lingering delightfully at each nipple, licking, sucking and nipping until she was nearly delirious with longing. He trailed his kisses further down her chest to her abdomen, his strong hands caressing, kneading, and stroking her soft skin.

He found the zipper at the waist of her robes where the buttons had ended, and released it, pulling the skirt and her panties down from her in one smooth motion. She blushed again at his intensive gaze as he stared at her. But she felt no real embarrassment, only heightened desire as she felt his fierce passion increase just at the sight of her.

She lay before him, naked except for her stockings and his ring on her finger. He felt that surge of primitive male pride and possessiveness, to know that she was HIS. Her gentle reassurances with words, touch, kisses and the flood of emotion that reached him through their Bonding had erased all his fears and doubts. Now he only wanted to savor every moment of this—their first union together.

Her muff of hair was tawny, honey brown like that of her head. Her legs were slightly parted as he kneeled between them, and he could see the dewy pink flesh of her core. He leaned forward and began his exploration of kisses where he had left off, kissing her waist, her hips, always moving downwards. His hands caressed her thighs, and at last rolled off her stockings as he kissed each leg from inner thigh to toes and then back up again—maddeningly slowly. His hot, teasing kisses trailed fire over her body until she felt she was nothing but a burning core of desperate desire.

She was writhing on the bed, soft whimpers of ardent longing escaping her, sometimes coherent enough to cry his name, pleadingly. He merely smiled and continued his attentions.

At last he came to her center. Her skin was soft and sweet, but here at her center she smelled more primal, the musky scent of… woman. He kissed her gently there, and was rewarded with a cry that was nearly a scream of passion. His own desire stabbed at him hotly but he ignored it, gently exploring her folds with his mouth and hands.

The tangy taste of her exploded on his tongue, and after some delightful seeking, he found the most sensitive button of flesh. Uncertainly, but learning quickly by her responses, he flicked it with his tongue. Her cries filled the room as she arched her hips against him. He stroked the velvety flesh with his fingers, and then tentatively slid one long finger inside the hot moistness. She was almost incoherent with longing, but this drove her nearly over the edge.

She felt as though he was the Master Musician, and she his instrument; deftly played with mouth and hands to attain the perfect concerto. The tension inside her body was at a fever pitch, a deep ache deep inside her pelvis that was as exciting as it was uncomfortable. An ache created by him, for him, that only he could slake.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him up to her, her eyes glazed with passion and yearning. She kissed him desperately, clawing at his remaining clothing, “Severus… Please… “

He removed the rest of his clothing obligingly, and for a moment she merely pressed herself against him, reveling in the feel of his flesh against hers, and trying to find some level of control over her body’s demands.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back onto the bed to begin her own exploration of kisses. She reveled in the warm, spicy scent of him and the feel of their naked bodies pressed together. She could feel his heart pound beneath her hand as she teased his nipples with her teeth and tongue. His breathing was no less erratic than hers was. She slowly slid her body down the length of his, kissing him all the while.

She caressed and kissed his legs. Runner’s legs; long and thin with well-defined muscles, fine black hair, and ending in long, thin feet which were the perfect counterpart to his hands. She kissed her way back up his legs as he had done to her. When she reached his shaft, she looked at it a moment in wonder. This was all new and strange to her, yet she felt no embarrassment or fear, only eager curiosity to learn to touch him and give him pleasure as he had done to her.

It was her turn to learn the secrets of his body. She caressed the proud flesh gently with her hands. It felt like hot iron encased in satin, and throbbed beneath her touch. She circled the shaft with her fingers of one hand, squeezing gently and sliding her hand up and down slowly. The other hand curiously and gently cupped and stroked the sack beneath. He drew in a sharp hiss of breath and made a very small noise in his throat, which she took as encouragement. She flicked her tongue over the head of his arousal, tasting it, and gently pulled it into her mouth, stroking the tip with her tongue as she kissed and sucked.

Suddenly he sat up and grabbed her, pushing her back onto the bed and holding her tightly, kissing her and plainly trying to regain control of the situation and his body. His breathing was as ragged as she had ever known; his entire body was tense and trembling slightly as he struggled mightily for control.

She looked at him in surprise, but he shook his head and smiled slightly, “There was nothing wrong with that, Rowena… It was too good, okay? I don’t want this to be over too soon…”

She nodded and pulled him to her, “Severus, please…”

But first he returned to kiss her core, winding hot kisses down her body once again. His desire was so high; his need so great, that he feared it would be over too quickly. He was also afraid of hurting her and wanted to do what he could to make her first time—their first time—easier for her.

More quickly this time, he found her nub of sensitive flesh. He gripped it gently in his teeth and made small, circular strokes with his tongue. She cried out in delight and he increased the speed of the tiny strokes. He again slid his finger inside her, ensuring the moisture of the passage. He need not have worried; she was wet and slick. The muscles of her body began to clench around his finger, and the nature of her moans changed suddenly. He stopped then, and rose up to meet her.

She met his eyes, unafraid, but with longing and need plain in every feature. Gently, he placed himself at her moist opening. The hot slickness that kissed and gripped at the head nearly threw him over the edge of his control. It was all he could do not to shove fully inside her at once; so urgent was his desire.

Slowly, he pressed forwards into her. He was only a very short way inside when he met the resistance, her virginity, that bit of flesh that was the final proof that she was his and his alone. What a precious gift! The savage, primitive male in him rose up again in lust and pride. A sick portion of his brain found pleasure at the thought that this taking would hurt her, that after this night she would be forever changed.

She shuddered deliciously at the fresh wave of lust that passed through her, whether it was hers or his she didn’t know or care. The feel of his shaft at her opening made her realize that the ache inside her was one of emptiness. Instinctively her body recognized that this was what it wanted, what it NEEDED to slake the fire inside of her.

Carefully, he leaned against the barrier, pressing against it. He felt her lust rise up to meet his and had to struggle again for control. There would be plenty of time in the future for passion bordering on violence; for exploration of that fine line between pleasure and pain. He recognized when he kissed her so violently this afternoon that she was capable of returning his passion in whatever form it took, delicate physical appearance not withstanding.

But not this time. This time he would be as gentle as he could. The tip of his shaft was pressing tightly against the resistance. Her breath had caught in her throat, and even in her passion and desire, her body had instinctively tensed against the intrusion. She gave a low moan that could have been pleasure or pain.

His excitement escalated even higher, but he backed off, uncertain. She gripped his shoulders, “No, it’s okay… it’s just… so tight…”

His arousal increased at her voicing the sensation. It was indeed very tight, gripping and squeezing at him. He pressed forwards again, and the barrier gave way slightly, though her moan was louder this time and had more of pain than pleasure. She experienced a heavy, sharp, stretching sensation as he leaned against the hymen, trying to breech it gently so as to cause as little discomfort as possible.

She held onto him in spite of the ache and urged him on. He backed off slightly then pressed more firmly. She cried out in definite pain this time, her hands gripping his shoulders, the nails digging into his flesh, increasing his ardor even further. But the barrier was gone and he was fully sheathed within her. His thickness was encased tightly within the hot, moist velvet of her passage. For a few moments the stretching sensation felt impossible to accommodate, her every muscle tense against the discomfort of the entrance.

He held perfectly still, letting her become accustomed to him while at the same time regaining control over his body. She fit him perfectly. Hot and tight, nearly the entire length of his shaft was inside of her. Gradually he felt her relax beneath him. He found her mouth and kissed her tenderly.

The fullness, when the pain was gone, was amazing; where as before she had felt a deep, yawning ache of emptiness inside her, she now felt heavy and full, still a yearning, a needing sensation, but now there was a sense of relief, of wholeness. She was made for him. Her mind swirled in images and memories as her body processed sensations. Her very soul had recognized him when she was only 11 years old. This was as inevitable, as necessary as drawing her next breath. Their magical Bond made her feel that their souls were as deeply entwined together as their bodies now were.

The feeling was amazing, the slick, hot, velvety softness clutching him tightly. Slowly he began to move inside her. Long, slow strokes, making sure that the base of his shaft pressed against her clitoris with each stroke. He slid a hand between them and teased the sensitive nub with his fingers, bringing back the heightened arousal that had been temporarily dampened from the pain. Soon, she was breathless and moaning beneath him again, writhing, begging him for some nameless thing. She didn’t even know what she wanted, only that she WANTED.

“Severus, please… please…. Oh, Severus…”

He increased his depth of his strokes and the pacing, his own need nearly overwhelming. Cognitive thought gave way fully to the sweet sensation of body moving against body. The hot, slippery friction as he moved within her was electric. Her moans deepened and her hands raked his back as he pressed hard inside her, pounding now almost savagely at the base of her womb.

She matched the rhythm of his thrusts with the motion of her hips, arching to meet him with each stroke, incoherent with passion, their Bond bringing them to the end together in all ways, their souls entwined in the joyous dance.

And then he felt her spasms, the clutching, gripping contractions of her body in the throes of her climax as she cried his name into his ear. Wave upon wave of shuddering pleasure washed over her, a kaleidoscope of sensual impressions from the fulfilling completion that only he could inspire. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, driving him further inside her. He allowed his own release then, matching her stroke for stroke. He found her lips and kissed her, drinking in her cries of passion and release as they mingled with his own, their world exploding in pleasure and sensation.

He didn’t allow himself to collapse onto her, but rather rolled gently to the side and pulled her into his arms. She lay contentedly with her head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. The wonder of the experience, of their marriage, of their Bond that allowed her to know how he truly felt about her… it was almost overwhelming. She held him close and basked in the warm happiness that flooded her, even more blissful because she knew it was his as well as hers.

He held her in awe and wonder, her warm soft skin melding perfectly with his. He twined his fingers through her masses of hair, reveling in the silky feel of it against his naked flesh as it fanned out over them.

Severus Snape. Death Eater. Ugly bastard. Evil, greasy git. What else had been said about him? None of it was completely untrue, and certainly all of it proved his lack of charismatic appeal at the very least. Yet here he was: a pretty woman—his wife no less—lying happy and sated in his arms.

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Eventually she leaned up on her arms to look down at him, and kissed him tenderly, “Let me get something decent on, and I’ll order something from the house elves for supper.”

“Ah, now we come to the point that may well be our first argument as man and wife,” he said very gravely, “Your lounging and sleeping attire leaves much to be desired. I would not be surprised to find that Minerva McGonagall wears more alluring nightwear than those shapeless sacks you call ‘pajamas’. It is simply unacceptable for a new bride to wear such boring garments.”

“Severus!” she exclaimed, blushing pink, “My pajamas are quite nice! They are all lovely material and colors, and very comfortable. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“You think not?” he asked. He waved her away with his ‘professor’ voice. “Very well, demonstrate. Show me your favorite ‘lovely’ pajamas. I long to see them.”

Blushing brighter under his blatant scrutiny, she dressed in a pair of deep green silk pajamas, long-sleeved shirt and long pants. The color was very suitable for her, and the material was very fine. But they were in fact quite boringly modest. The shirt buttoned all the way to the throat, loose and roomy. Her slight form was well hidden in its folds.

Severus sat at the edge of the bed, completely relaxed and unconcerned at his nakedness as he shook his dark head in mock disgust. He regarded her with careful scrutiny and pulled his wand from his robes on the floor.

“Stand still, Rowena. My marks in Transfiguration were acceptable, but I admit it was the subject with which I had the most difficulty. However, I am confident that I can manage this without concern.”

Before she could object or determine what it was that he intended to do, her comfortable, concealing pajamas became a slinky, lacy, spaghetti-strapped nightgown, in the same green silk. It hugged her breasts and torso, plunged daringly in the front and back, and then flared at the waist into a full, flowing skirt. The lace over the bodice was quite indecent, being nearly transparent.

“THAT, Mrs. Snape is lovely,” he said with smug satisfaction. “Now I believe we can order that meal.”


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Severus refused to allow her to change his boring gray nightshirt into something more ‘interesting’. The food, when it arrived, was not what they had ordered—sandwiches and pumpkin juice—but instead was steamed crab legs, Caesar’s salad, champagne and strawberries with dipping chocolate. Rowena looked questioningly at Severus as she felt a wave of affection through their Bond that was not directed at her. He had an amused smirk on his face.

“It seems Albus wished to do something to celebrate the occasion,” he said dryly, but she could tell that the gesture pleased him.

They ate the strawberries and chocolate sitting on the couch, and soon it became a sensual game rather than merely a dessert. He dipped a particularly plump berry into the chocolate and brought it to her lips, gazing intently at her mouth; a symphony of lips, teeth and tongue as she bit into the juicy fruit, then licked her lips to remove traces of chocolate.

He would have liked to fit into the role of gallant lover. Surely a true gentleman would leave the poor woman alone so soon after breaching her, and give her time for any soreness to heal. The truth of the matter was that he wanted her, and the answering darkening of her eyes was invitation enough.

He leaned forward and claimed her lips possessively, his tongue following the path that hers had made moments before, tasting the chocolate and the tang of the berry. She sighed against his lips and pulled him close so that her breasts pressed through the thin fabric of the transfigured gown to rub against his shirt, her body instantly responding to his kiss and touch.

“Severus,” she breathed his name reverently against his lips as he kissed her.

“Mmmm?” he made an inquiring noise as he kissed and nibbled at her ears and neck.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said breathlessly, shuddering slightly as he nipped a particularly sensitive area of her neck.

He kissed her deeply, picked her up into his arms, and smirked, “What Mrs. Snape wishes, Mrs. Snape will have.”

She laughed lightly at his teasing gallantry. This was definitely something she would not have suspected—Severus Snape as a playful lover! Perhaps the unique, intimate nature of their Bond enabled him to feel a bit more relaxed.

He deposited her gently on the edge of the bed, and in one smooth motion had removed her gown from her. Another fluid motion had him divested of his nightshirt as well. She slid under the covers against the chill and he joined her at once.

This time he did not object when she dimmed the lights as he wrapped her possessively into his arms and kissed her deeply. In the darkness, the feel of flesh upon flesh intensified, and all traces of shyness vanished.

Firm, strong hands stroked smooth, soft curves and valleys. Delicate, gentle hands stroked hard, hard ridges and angles. Mouths sought tender places, kissing and nipping. Ears longed for sounds of pleasure from the mate. Tongues tasted sweet kisses and perspiration induced saltiness. Legs tangled around legs.

With less of the desperate urgency of their first union, they allowed their bodies to become merely vessels of sensation as their hearts reveled in the emotional symphony revealed by their Bond. Words were meaningless and unnecessary when heart could speak directly to heart. Severus felt awestruck and honored at the gift of her virginity, but that was nothing to the amazing gift he had given to both of them in requesting the Bond.

At some point in their writhing and seeking, kissing and exploring, she slid one leg beneath him, around his waist, as they lay on their sides facing one another. A slight adjustment of hips and legs, and his rampant shaft was at her entrance. She was wet and slick and again he reveled in the sensation as the head slipped inside, as though her nether lips were kissing him just as her mouth had done earlier. She sighed in pleasure as he slid within. There was no resistance this time, only the slightest of dull aches to remind her that a short while ago she had been a virgin.

The strokes were slow and leisurely. Their arms were tightly wrapped around each other, her legs gripping his waist, mouths kissing hungrily. It was impossible to say who was controlling the rhythm or depth of the strokes. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, slowly climbing the delicious sensations of desire and intimate tension. But before release could take them, one or the other—perhaps both—would slow the strokes further, allowing the sweet tension to decrease again.

Over and over they did this… reveling in the glorious sensation of being in perfect unison. The Bond allowed union of heart and body so that neither could have told where one body ended and the other began. They were wholly and completely ONE.

Always the motion stayed slow, smooth, and deliberate… nearly reaching the blissful release… hovering on the very precipice of ecstasy… every fiber of their bodies thrumming in excited anticipation… just one more stroke would surely bring the sweet release…

And then again a pause; bodies holding perfectly still, heart pounding against heart, lips exchanging soft, moaning sighs of pleasure and longing. Reveling in the teasing, the stopping, escalating the desire into a pleasure so intense it was nearly pain, an agony of delicious wanting, passionately waiting for the urgency to subside so that they could make the ascent again; each knowing that the end, when it came, would be all the more glorious for the wait.

How many times did they do this? How long… minutes, hours, days? It was impossible to say. Their bodies were soaked in perspiration and the moisture from her body, though they did not increase the speed of their motion beyond the slow, steady strokes. So often had they hovered on the edge that they felt as though they were vibrating at a fever pitch. Every moment felt timeless, every stroke an eternity of bliss.

At last biology would no longer be denied. But even when they knew the end was near and they must fall inevitably into the chasm of ecstatic release, they did not alter their movements. Each stroke was maddeningly, blissfully slow. Smoothly sliding all the way out…slowly and deliberately returning all the way in, pressing hard shaft tightly against the base of womb; hovering timelessly on that blissful plateau of tingling, filling, throbbing sensation.

Her release began first…but even this seemed to follow the slow movements of their dance. One hard spasm against his shaft on the inward stroke, the shattering agony of pleasure washing over her in waves of sensation so powerful that she screamed against his lips. He held himself pressed deep inside her, and his first spastic wave followed hard upon the heel of hers, drawn from him by that hard clutching contraction of her orgasm. He groaned against her lips, his sounds mingling with hers… The throb of his glans inside her inspired the second wave of her orgasm, which was answered instantly by the hard pulse of his; and so it went, back and forth. Even the rhythm of their climaxes was perfectly synchronized as wave upon wave of pleasure washed over them.

It was long before it was spent. And longer still before the joyous afterglow left them any awareness of time or space. At some point they shifted positions enough that Rowena’s leg was not pinned beneath Severus’s waist. They kept their bodies entwined… it seemed only fitting that their physical bodies should match the perfect union of their souls.

They did not speak. What could possibly be said that could at all do justice to what they had experienced? There was no need for words.

Eventually, they slept.

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