What He Wants

A/N: A thanks to my beta Phoenix Burning.
Disclaimer: If I owned them... I wouldn't be so freakin' poor...

Enjoy
*****


It was a confrontation which had she hoped to avoid. Dealing with a sulky Ronald Weasley was truly the last thing she wanted after what had happened down in the dungeons. She felt too damn good to be on the defensive so soon after the things Severus had done to her.

She just wanted to slink to her room slide into her bed, and dream of all the things that her Potions master was capable of making her feel.

Things she had started to believe she would never experience.

Mostly because of the redheaded prat that waited to waylay her in the Gryffindor common room. If she weren't so thoroughly put out with the boy, she might have felt a knee-jerk bit of sympathy for the unhappy look on his face.

"'Mione..."

She held up a hand to forestall whatever guilt inducing drivel he was about to put forth.

"Don't, Ron. Just don't. There is nothing left to say, and I refuse to allow myself to be caught up in the game you insist on playing with me."

She crossed her arms across her chest in a show of defiance at the incredulous look he was throwing at her.

"How can you say that after everything we've been through together? How can you choose that greasy, hateful bastard over one of your best friends?"

Ron stood and advanced on her. Gone was the sulk, replaced by a seething anger meant to intimidate her, no doubt.

Hermione wasn't about to be intimidated though.

"You're hardly my best friend anymore, Ronald Weasley," she replied, her own ire firing up to the confrontation. "And I believe I have already told you that whom I choose to spend my time with is no longer any of your concern."

He took another menacing step towards her.

"And I'm telling you that I'm not going to be put off so easily. I'm making it my concern. I'm not just going to stand around and let that old bat have you, Hermione. He wants you, I know he does, and I will not just stand by and let him take advantage of your... lack of experience."

This only served to incense Hermione further.

"Who are you to think that you could stop me from spending my time with someone who cares for me more than you ever could?" She took her own step forward. "And what makes you think that I don't already know what Professor Snape's intentions are towards me or that under his... " Here she grinned wickedly. "Tender mercies- that I haven't already gained quite a bit of experience?"

The shock on Ron's face was nearly worth outing her relationship with Severus in such an unseemly manner.

"Let my tell you one thing for certain, Ronald Weasley, there is no way you could ever compare to Severus Snape," she continued viciously.
"A single touch, Ron, that's all it took from him to set a fire that burns so deep, it takes my breath away just to think about it."

Ron turned pale as the implications of her words set in.

She advanced on him again.

"You'll never be able to make me feel what he does, Ron. Just let it go, before you get yourself hurt."

She wanted to sound hard, and in control, but in the end, her words softened into heartfelt advice.

"I can't believe you 'Mione. I just can't believe you would let that bastard touch you," Ron spat, his pale skin now dark red with anger. "He's your Professor for fuck's sake. That can't be right."

In truth, it was something she had long since dismissed as an issue between Severus and herself. It seemed that he had as well. She also doubted that he would pursue her so openly if he weren't certain there would be no repercussions for either of them. She could only assume that there was blackmail involved somewhere in there as well.

"I've had enough of this conversation," she said suddenly, throwing her hands up in the air for emphasis. "I'm not going to fight with you about this, but I warn you now... if you don't mind your own business on this, Ron, you will regret it."

She pushed past him roughly and crossed the room to the stairs leading down into her suite without a glance back at the stunned redhead.


She reached her rooms with a brief downward stint and pushed her way in. She began stripping as soon as she locked and warded the door behind her, leaving a trail of school uniform in her wake.

The cool, night air tickled at her skin as she bared it to the inner sanctum that was her bedroom. The sensation reminded her very much of the way Severus' touches made her shiver, only with heat, instead of the coolness of the early spring breeze that drifted through her open window. This served to push the anger that had begun to burn with an altogether different passion.

She was happy to note that the delicious sensations with which she returned to the tower had made their way back to her, reigniting that slow burn that seemed to haunt her journey from the dungeons.

She slipped between the cool sheets of her bed, allowing the soft cotton to caress her, further stimulating the idea of Severus' talented fingers mapping her body with slow, deliberate measurements.

She drifted off thinking that that Severus Snape could love her as much as he wanted.

*****

It was the first morning in many mornings past that Severus Snape awoke glad to be alive. The fact that he could still smell her scent lingering deliciously across his sheets only added to his positive mood. She had really been here, in his bed, spread out and wanton, and quivering from his touch.

He had made her come.

In his bed.

It was tempting to strip the sheets before the house elves could get their hands on them, and secret them away as a memento. It tempting just to lay there, basking in her scent, soaking up every trace of her evidence so that he could wear it for the rest of the day. But then, he would miss so many opportunities to catch her as she wandered about the castle, as she was wont to do on Saturdays of late.

If he hurried, he might even catch her before she reached the Great Hall for breakfast. Then perhaps he could sequester her away into a near-by alcove, or empty classroom for a quick kiss or three.

A decidedly tempting way to start the day.

Then perhaps later, he could corner her in the library, where she was prone to haunt, for a little afternoon... interlude. Maybe even invite her round for dinner in his quarters later that evening.

Where she could be the main course.

An even better way to end the day.

Now that he had tasted her, he was plagued with the craving to have more of her. To consume her down to the depths of her very soul. He very nearly ached with the desire of it.

Soon.

Very soon.

*****


Hermione awoke in much the same frame of mind with which she had gone to bed, delightfully boneless, and desperately in love with the man who had made her feel that way.

She stretched broadly, the hem of her nightshirt riding high until it just reached the bottom of her breasts. Cool, morning air brushed lightly across her exposed abdomen, causing gooseflesh to rise from the skin there. The light, tingling sensation reminding her once again of Severus' touch, and thusly the things he was capable of doing to her with those marvelous hands of his.

She shivered lightly at the thought of it all.

She found herself wondering when he would touch her again. Maybe he would seek her out sometime today.

Unless he regretted what happened between them.

She shook that thought away. It was ridiculous. He had made it clear that he wanted her for more than just a quick fumble. He wanted a future with her.

Gods, the idea of it still made her head reel.

Would he want to marry her? Did she want to marry him? What would she do about her education if she did? Would he let her continue to study? Not to mention children... Would a man that detested children want children? Did she want them?

It was a lot to think about to be sure.

She knew it was quite the norm for wizards and witches to marry young, have their children, and then spend the rest of their considerably long lives pursuing their ambitions. And, she supposed that if she wanted to be accepted into this society then she should conform to some standards.

And there were certainly worse things than being able to marry someone with whom she was rapidly falling in love.

With that thought, she pulled herself out of her bed and got herself ready for the day ahead.


*****


Ron was waiting for her in the hallway, catching her before she could slip away unnoticed. It wasn’t as if she hadn't been expecting an altercation with him at some point, especially after the things she had said to him.

Things that had been building up for quite sometime in fact.

"Hey 'Mione," he said sheepishly, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

He looked very much like a scolded ten year old.

"Ron," she replied briskly...

*****

He crept behind her and the Weasley boy much as he had done a couple of days before, the only difference being that Potter was not among them. He found the situation . . . distressing, and the strains of conversation that he was starting to process were not helping his state of mind.

". . . You're right 'Mione, and I admit I've been a real git about your feelings. But, I just want you to know that – well, Snape isn't your only option. I still want you, even if you have let him touch you, and you don't have to worry about being alone, because I won't let that happen. I'll make sure that you are a proper witch with a proper family."

Severus stiffened; the urge to wipe the smug look of the boy's face strong.

How would she respond to something like that? Had she already realized that he was all wrong for her? Had she gone to the Weasley boy in search of absolution for allowing the Greasy Git to touch her?

He knew of her long time affections for the boy and was even on hand when she went through the process of getting over him some months back. But had enough time passed? Had he managed to cement some of her heart to his own over the last few days? Would she throw it away regardless for a chance to be with her first love?

She seemed to be taking an awful long time to decide.

Finally, she spoke.

"You've got a lot of nerve, Ron...," she said with a deep sigh of irritation and a hard edge in her tone, as she shook the redhead's hand from her arm.

He knew she intended to say more, but those first seven words that issued from her mouth tore something loose from deep inside of him. He glided towards the pair soundlessly until he was directly behind them.

"Forgive the interruption, Miss Granger," he drawled silkily as he insinuated himself between Weasley and the object of his desires. "But I have an urgent need to speak with you as soon as possible." His tone was firm, and he loomed over her in a way that made her gulp with trepidation.

"Of course, Professor," she acquiesced breathlessly, her eyes wide with a hint of fear.

Fear was good. She should fear him to an extent. He would never hurt her of course, but he would be damned if he would let another man touch her ever again. He would happily kill the next one that tried, and he was about to make his position perfectly clear with her. If the Weasley chit was no longer an obstacle in her mind, then he intended to make her see that he was the clear choice for her affections.

He took her elbow in a deceptively gentle grip, and led her away from the sputtering redhead.

It was imperative that he get her alone as soon as possible, before any sense of prudence completely left him.

He shoved her unceremoniously through the nearest door, and right into a rarely used –

- Broom cupboard.

Not exactly, what he had in mind, but it would serve the purpose well enough.

He trapped her against the door with his body as he shut it firmly behind her.

A few muttered words and a wave of his hand insured there would be no interruption until he made his case with her, and she had reached the most logical conclusion; that, of course, he was the one for her.

He pressed himself against her, and placed his hands on either side of her head.

"Think carefully, Miss Granger," he drawled softly in that quiet, deadly tone that made most shiver when he used it. She was no different, apparently. "Are you sure you do not wish to reconsider Mr. Weasley's offer?"

She graced him with a rather calculated glare searching his face with a scrutiny that unnerved him a bit, then quirked a smirk worthy of his own.

"I think, Professor, that I am quite content with my current situation," she replied smoothly, and ran her hands lightly up his chest.

"And which situation is that, Miss Granger?" he rumbled, pressing his lower body more firmly into her.

She pressed back, and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

"Oh, I don't know, the one were my favorite Potions Master is prone to pulling me into closets for a quick snog is quite favorable," she replied offhandedly.

"Is it now," he murmured as he drew himself closer, and placed a light, lingering kiss just below her ear.

She grabbed his head roughly, and dragged his lips across her jaw with a surprising urgency, until his mouth reached hers. "Oh yes," she hissed across his lips.

She wrapped her arms around his head securely, and he found himself falling into the warm, wet depths of her wanting mouth. He let himself fall. And it amazed him at how readily she seemed to drink him in, seemed to sip his very soul from the challis of his lips.

He felt precious and wanted in the depths of her hot, sweet mouth.

She moaned, or was that him? It hardly mattered as the sound bounced between them, and echoed down the back of his throat.

And traveled straight to his groin.

Sweet, sweet Merlin.

It was beginning to occur to Severus that perhaps her experiences last night had quite an effect, as she slid one hand back down the front of his body until she reached the fly of his pants. She cupped him firmly, then gave his cock a firm but gentle squeeze through the material of his thick, wool trousers.

It was stimulating to think how quickly she was adapting to his ministrations, and developing a few of her own, apparently.

Of course, she wasn't the brightest witch of her age for nothing.

He pressed himself more firmly against her palm, his cock springing to life from the pressure she offered. He growled softly into her mouth, as her hand took up a rather impressive massage technique that threatened to make him act... hastily.

He pulled himself away from her sweet, soft lips with a groan.

*****


Hermione's mind and body were reeling. The fire that had burned so brightly the night before, sprang to life with intensity of a raging inferno.

She had been more than a little apprehensive about joining him in such a small space considering the conversation he had interrupted, and no doubt overheard.

At least he had given her the chance to say something before he interrupted her.

Though little else.

Not that there was a whole lot more to say.

She truly was content with Severus. And after a good night's sleep, she had awakened with the happy notion that she could have a future him and be much more than just satisfied.

She could have true passion.

Gods, but she wanted this man.

"I want this," she said softly as she reached down below his erection, and cupped his balls gently. "All of it."

She stroked his length firmly in a slow, upward motion. She met his eyes and gave the head of his cock a gentle squeeze. "I want to know what you feel like inside of me."

"Oh, gods," he groaned, his dark eyes shuttered and sparkling at the same time. He met her gaze with an intensity that sent a shivering sensation straight to the nerves in her womb. "Gods, Hermione, don't tempt me. This is hardly the place for our first time together," he took her face in his hands, and stroked her cheeks lightly. "Not your first time."

He kissed her tenderly, and stilled the hand she was using to threaten his formidable composure.

Hers had crumbled beyond repair.

She was too far-gone. She needed release from the fire that burned so deep with in her. She was a quivering mass of nerves stewing in her own liquid heat.

He simply could not leave her like this.

"I need... I need to..." She hesitated to say what it was she needed, blushing furiously at the idea of making such a bold sexual statement.

"What do you need, Hermione?" he rasped heatedly against her neck before nipping gently at the flesh there. "Tell me." He trailed a slick path to her ear, the sucked softly on the lobe for a moment. "Say it. Say the word, Hermione, and I shall indulge you," he promised silkily, his words deepening the flush that stained her cheeks and blossomed down to her chest.

"O-orgasm, Severus. I need you to make me orgasm," she demanded.

He literally growled at her, then claimed her in another soul-searing kiss, his hands moving down the front of her robes and parting the garment away from her body. He pushed her skirt up her legs, as his hands gripped her thighs roughly. He reached her knickers and tore them away with one harsh jerk of his wrist.

"Spread your legs," he ordered gruffly against her kiss bruised lips, as his fingers worked their way into her warm, moist depths.

She complied, then cried out when his fingers brushed against the electrified bundle of nerves that stood guard over the entrance of her vagina. "Gods, yes, Severus, touch me there," she begged through her panting breaths.

He pressed the thrumming bit of flesh more firmly, then began to draw small circles that shot tendrils of pure desire throughout her body. Sparks exploded colorfully behind her closed lids, and she felt the pulse of her heart on every nerve ending.

He dipped his finger lower, just long enough to gather the moisture that pooled at her opening, before sliding it back into a much smoother rhythm around her clit.

Hermione's breath hitched at the feel of it, and that hot, delicious pressure began building in the center of her abdomen. The feeling of exploding overcoming her senses once again.

He kissed her again, grinding his mouth into her, as his tongue took lazy, slithering swipes at hers. Slithering...

Oh gods.

It hit her like a ton of bricks. This was Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, Potions Master Extraordinaire, Ex-Death Eater/Spy for the Order of the Phoenix, and probably the most feared wizard alive. Now that Voldemort was gone.

And he was about to make her have an orgasm.

In a broom closet.

The thought of it sent her flying over the edge, as she came apart in his arms.

She ripped her mouth away from his, taking in huge gulps of air. "Gods, how can you do that to me so easily?"

She hadn't meant to say that aloud.

He chuckled softly.

"Because, my dear, like everything else that you do, you excel in passion," he replied with a hint of amusement, then kissed her lips lightly, "and because you want me to do it."

She couldn't deny that that much was certain. It was the mere idea of him that had taken her over the edge so forcefully, not that his skilled fingers and addictive kisses didn't play a major part of it all.

Of course, it wasn't all one sided.

He made it clear that he wanted her as well. And not just her body, she just had to wonder how much he actually did want.

"What about you Severus?" she asked. "What do you want?"


*****


What did he want?

He wanted her of course. All she had to offer. He wanted to consume her until they were a perfectly blended entity, an entirely new being. He wanted her to be his lover, his wife, the mother of his children.

He wanted to live with her, work with her, and make love to her everyday.

His heart clinched at the idea of it all. How could he tell her all of these things, and not sound like some sopping idiot? Did she even want those things from him? How would he know, if he didn't make his intentions known to her. It would be better to tell her now, than risk losing her because he waited too long.

Like Weasley had.

"I want a future with you, Hermione," he said softly, his tone uncharacteristically gentle even to his own ears. "I want everything you care to give me. I want you for my own."

She met his eyes with a wide, cinnamon gaze, her breath hitching lightly.

"Do you love me?" she asked shyly, almost afraid.

Love?

Did he love her? Yesterday that would have been a yes, but after having tasted the passion of which she was capable, it had become so much more.

"Love is too inadequate a word to describe what I feel for you, Hermione," he confessed.

He had to taste that sweet mouth of her one more time, just to leave no doubt in her mind that she belonged to him and no other. He claimed her mouth fiercely, ravishing her with lips and tongue until she whimpered softly into his mouth.

He couldn't help the primal growl that answered from deep within his chest, and he bit her lip savagely until the coppery taste of her blood filled his senses. He sucked the wound possessively until it was puffy from the abuse.

"If you continue this, I shall claim you as mine," he rasped heatedly against her mouth.

"And here I thought you already claimed me," she said wryly, and drew in the abused lip to sooth it with her own tongue.

He reached up, and pull her lip back out with his thumb, then kissed it gently. "You're right, I have claimed you, and I will not tolerate another man touching you. Do you understand?"

She shivered against him at that.

"That shouldn't be a problem," she assured him.

*****

It never occurred to either party inside the small closet that just on the other side of the door, Ron Weasley stood, with his ear pressed firmly against the ancient wood, listening to every word with a growing sense of dread.

Well, not every word.

It had taken him nearly ten minutes to break through the silencing charm. Once he had, it didn't take him long to figure out what was going on, on the other side of the door.

It nearly made him sick to realize what the Greasy Git was in there doing to his girl.

His Hermione.

Ron was tempted to stay there until they came out, demand a confrontation. Surely, Snape would get into trouble for what he was doing to Hermione.

He was her teacher for Merlin's sake. Surely, Dumbledore would have a cow if he heard about this.

Maybe even fire Snape.

That was an appealing thought. He would love to be the one to get the old bat fired.

But if he left, he might take Hermione with him.

He needed a plan.

How to get the git to leave his girl alone.

Blackmail. He could blackmail Snape. Threaten to tell the Headmaster about their little tryst. That would stop it.

It didn't matter if Hermione wanted the git, he would blackmail Snape, threaten to go to Dumbledore if he kept seeing her, force him to leave her alone.

Best to confront the bastard alone though; wouldn't want Hermione to know why she was dumped. That might make it too tempting to keep seeing the old bugger.

Besides, he was certain that Snape wouldn't want anyone to find out he was fucking the Head Girl.

Ron shuddered briefly at the thought.

Did it matter that Hermione had slept with Snape? She was, no doubt, doing him at this very moment just on the other side of the door.

Well, it's not as if he hadn't had his share of girls.

It didn't matter in the end, as long as she became his.

Oh yes, Hermione would be his, and he would have the Potions Master by the balls.

Or so he thought.

*****

She could finally admit it.

She was in love. With Severus Snape. Head over heels, hopelessly devoted, heart aching love.

With Severus Snape.

Oh god.

She glanced up to where he sat at the Head Table, only to find him staring back at her, his dark eyes smoldering with intensity.

There was just something about the unabashed way he was looking at her, all heat and desire burning bright in those dark obsidian eyes of his. It made her tingle all the way to her toes.

Oh god.

She watched him back through a curtain of her own curls as he sat down his coffee cup then leaned back casually in his chair. She flushed brightly when he brought the finger he had used to pleasure her with, casually to his lips, tapping them thoughtfully. She could clearly see the wicked gleam in his eyes though, knowing she would understand the significance of the gesture. She imagined he could still smell her there as he had mentioned he would when he refused to allow her to clean his hands after the broom cupboard.

She squirmed a bit in her seat.

Oh god oh god oh god.

He dropped his head forward a bit, just enough so that a shield of hair draped across his face enough to cover his actions from most but her. Then he drew the digit into his mouth, and told her with his eyes just how much he savored her taste.

Could one have an orgasm just from watching their lover?

She felt as though she were damn close.

She paid no attention to the glaring redhead beside her, or the bemused expression of her dark haired friend sitting across the table.

The only thing she could really think of was how to get that man to make love to her, completely. She had been grateful for his control over his own desires, and giving her the opportunity to know pleasure before taking her virginity. But now, she wanted him on a completely different level.

The things Severus had said to her, had cemented her resolve towards him. She could see spending the rest of her life with him, easily. She didn't see the need to wait, when she was so certain. The feelings having been there longer than she had been willing to admit. All it took was to hear his own resolve on the issue.

If he wanted her that badly, then by god he could have her. Why wait for something better, when perfection was already within your grasps?

And he was perfect. For her.

And the next time he touched her, she was going to make sure he gave her that perfect piece of manhood, virginity be damned.

*****

He had to get away from the sight of her least he do something incredibly foolish, like ravish her right there in the Great Hall, and to hell with discretion.

The look she had just given him was down right frightening. No woman had ever looked upon his countenance with such a feral expression. For a brief moment, he struggled with the notion that she was attempting to ... devour him with her thoughts. Thoughts, he assumed that were becoming increasingly lurid, if he was reading her at all correctly.

Merlin's teeth, but he had to get out of there, and fast, before he did something wholly inappropriate.

He fled from the morning meal in a flurry of black, not bothering to look back to catch the confused, then knowing look of his beloved.

Nor did he notice the evil glare, and the sudden departure of the redheaded member of the 'Golden Trio' that coincided with his own. Nor did it occur to him that the boy would be foolish enough to attempt to waylay him on his way back to the dungeons.

"Got a minute, Professor?"

The question was asked in a genial enough tone, though the hand that now gripped his arm was anything but friendly. Severus was sorely tempted to remove said hand from his person, while removing it bodily from its insolent owner.

"I have several in fact, Mr. Weasley, which should be ample time to thoroughly trounce you, and leave me with plenty of room to dispose of the body should you continue to touch me in such an obstinate manner," Severus drawled dangerously.

The hand was disappeared instantly, and the boy took a defensive step back.

"I n-need to talk to you about something," the redhead stuttered, no doubt questioning the wisdom of seeking Snape out on his own.

Severus pressed his advantage, as any good Slytherin would. He took a menacing step towards the boy, wondering what it would take exactly to get him off his back.

"Do you now?" he asked viciously, and smirked when the chit begin to back away.

"Y-yeah, about H-Hermione."

Severus advanced again until Ron was plastered against the rough, stone wall that dominated so many of the castle's corridors. He figured the young man would, at some point, confront him, but not quite so soon. This could only mean that Weasley thought he had some sort of advantage over the entire situation, and it was in Severus' best interest to find out what that was.

"What makes you think I would discuss Miss Granger with you, boy?" he snarled as he made to loom over his would-be rival.

"Be-because I know what's really going on between the two of you, and if it doesn't stop, I'm gonna tell the Headmaster," Ron replied, finding some of that vaulted Gryffindor courage, and jutting his chin out defiantly.

Severus placed a hand on either side of the idiotic child's head, and leaned in close, almost intimately close. "And what is it that you think you know, Mr. Weasley?" he whispered next to the boy's ear.

"You ... you're fucking her," Ron whispered back, though the arrogance was gone to be replaced by an oddly awed tone as though the truth of his beliefs were just now catching up to him.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for using such an unseemly reference, Mr. Weasley," Severus seethed softly. "And while I can assure you that I feel no need whatsoever to justify myself to you, for the record, no such action has occurred between Miss Granger and myself... yet."

"Then you admit that you want her!" Ron exclaimed, and tried to push his way past Snape indignantly.

Severus held him firmly in place. "I admit to nothing," he hissed. "However, I will suggest to you that you are treading a dangerous line, and don't think for one moment that I would ever dare do something as presumptuous as you have suggested without the Headmaster's full knowledge."

The statement was ambiguous enough, but the underlining meaning was clear.

"The Headmaster knows?" the redhead asked with quiet awe.

"The Headmaster knows everything that goes on within the walls, or have you not figured that out already?"

He released the boy from the wall, stepping back enough to let him pass.


*****


"This isn't over, Snape. I'll have her back," Ron couldn't help declaring over his shoulder as he made his escape.

It was the wrong thing to say.

Snape grabbed him by the arm and spun him back into the wall with no small amount of force.

Ron winced when his head made a resounding thwack against the stone, and a sharp pain blossomed across the back of his skull.

"Listen to me well, Mr. Weasley. Hermione Granger is mine now," Snape seethed through clinched teeth. "I've waited patiently for her to be well shot of you. I've bided my time, and in the interim managed to build a true friendship with her. A friendship that has become so much more.

"I love her more than you could possibly imagine. I would kill to keep her, Mr. Weasley. Tell me, are you ready to die for her?"

Snape's tone was that of a man possessed, and quite frankly the thought of dying at the hands of Snape was a less than appealing thought. He had no idea the man felt that strongly, could feel that strongly. About Hermione.

Bloody hell.

How was he supposed to get out of this alive?

He supposed the chances of that just dropped significantly when he felt the tip of Snape's wand digging ruthlessly into the hollow of his throat.

"Professor?"

Oh, thank Merlin.

That was the sweetest voice he ever heard. Snape would never kill him in front of her.

Right?

He felt Snape tense further for a brief moment, then relax completely and drop his wand from Ron's neck.

"Get out of my sight you insignificant little cockroach, and never attempt to cross me again," the older wizard sneered at him before releasing him completely.

He didn't have to be told twice.

It was time to rethink his position anyhow. Was Hermione really worth risking Snape's ire?

He was beginning to wonder.

*****

She was still trying to process the scene she had just witnessed when Ron went flying by her in an effort to escape her lover's wrath. There was a horrifying moment when she actually believed Severus was going to kill the idiot.

That was about the last thing she needed.

Hermione made the decision that this man was the one for her, she wasn't about to lose him to Azkaban now.

She approached Severus warily. "Do I want to know what that was about?" she asked tentatively.

He leaned his head against the wall, and took several deep breaths, not doubt to calm the adrenalin rush caused by the near duel in which he was about to engage.

More like a slaughter.

"Mr. Weasley was under the impression that he could blackmail me into leaving you. A ridiculous notion I assure you," he drawled softly.

"That's good to know, since I never considered it a concern," she replied in kind as she moved a bit closer to him.

She reached out to him slowly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he didn't respond to her touch, she asked...

"Severus?"

He turned to face her at that, his eyes still a bit wild from his confrontation.

"Gods, Hermione, you must be terrified of me now," he said dejectedly.

She snorted lightly at that.

"Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how many times I've had to stop myself from hexing that prat?"

Severus chuckled softly as well.

"I was actually wondering how you had managed to restrain yourself," he said with a wry smile.

"Yes, well, let me tell you, it's not easy. I imagine the thought of killing him was equally tempting," she responded with a mischievous grin of her own.

"So you're really not angry with me then," he said, closing the space between them as he carefully reached out for her hand.

She wrapped her fingers around his long, elegant hand, and pulled him closer. "Hardly." She wanted to pull him closer still, but thought better of it when she considered their surroundings.

One of the main corridor arteries was hardly the place to snog her Professor senseless, no matter how much Albus Dumbledore approved. Particularly after breakfast on a Saturday.

It was damn exciting to think about though...

Becoming a thrill-sex junkie at this point in their relationship was hardly the best course however, especially since they hadn't technically had sex yet.

She suddenly found herself caught up in his intense, black gaze. She couldn't help the falling sensation that she got when he looked at her like that. That's when it hit her, how often in the past year he had giving her this same, penetrating stare. A look that she could clearly interpret when given the context of the last few days.

Too many to count, if she were honest.

And Hermione Granger was always honest.

How had she miss read that blatant desire the shone like a distant star against a midnight sky.

"Why didn't I see that before?" she murmured softly, as she reached out to stroke his cheek despite herself.

*****

When he had told her the night before that, she could undo him with the simplest of touches, it had not been an exaggeration. In fact, she was proving the point quite eloquently at the moment.

The soft, gentle touch she was now bestowing on him, made him more breathless than anything he had ever experienced.

It was only slightly more unsettling than the first time she had ever touched him and sent him on the spiraling emotional current he now understood as love.

This was devotion, and it struck him with the force of a blow to the head, or his gut to be more precise. It made him ache with an almost painful need.

She had to be his.

There could be no doubt, to anyone, ever again, that she belonged to him alone.

He grabbed her hand that rested on his cheek, and turned his head so that his lips pressed firmly against her palm.

"Hermione-"

He choked on her name and the overwhelming swell of his heart that strained against the confines of his chest.

He couldn't hold back the need any longer.

It didn't matter that he had feasted on her kisses less than an hour ago. He was finding that he simply could not go another instant with tasting her sweet, sweet mouth again.

It didn't matter that anyone could happen upon them at any moment.

He stepped into her personal space, hooking his arm around her waist so that he could draw her closer.

Now, he had kissed her many times in the space of just a few days. Each one more consuming than the last. But when he met her lips again, he could tell that this kiss would progress beyond anything he had ever experienced before. This kiss was a joining. And as her tongue moved into his mouth, and tangled lazily with his in an act of acceptance he never believed possible, he knew what he had to do to make sure that she never left his side.

"Marry me, Hermione," he rasped against her heated mouth. "Marry me and never let there be any doubts that you are mine alone."

"Severus, I-"

"Shh, don't say you can't. I know you are unsure, and I know this is sudden. But I swear to you on everything that I am, that you will have all that you desire." He kissed the softness of her lips gently. "As long as I am one of those desires."

*****

Hermione had no intentions of telling this man 'no', but she let him make his impassioned plea as his words stirred the already churning need to make him permanent in her life.

Besides, if she agreed to impromptu proposal, then maybe he would finally make love to her.

"I was going to say 'I'd be honored to marry you,' Professor. But if holding my tongue will elicit such intriguing promises from you..."

He growled low at her in that way that seemed to travel straight to the very center of her being.

"Impertinent girl," he admonished sternly, though there was something very devilish about the amused glint in his eyes. "I'll hold your tongue for you."

With that, he kissed her again, and he did indeed take hold of her tongue.

*****