I should've been writing something else. I'm on a tight deadline for some bad and naughty demon smexxy…but here I am finishing another Snanger fic… Oops?

"Hermione?"

Severus eased her over to face him, his lips brushing hers and he pushed back the tangled mass of her insane curls from her face. His stomach lurched. She was crying. Silent, heavy tears spilled to slip across the tops of her cheeks and disappear into her wild hair.

He'd planned to go slow, to pleasure her, but then the way she melted in his arms, his every touch igniting her, he couldn't hold back. Didn't want to. He wanted to give her everything he was. Everything.

"Gods, love, did I hurt you?"

Her eyes crushed tight and she pressed a hand to her face, covering her nose and mouth. Her chest heaved. She shook her head. Severus pulled her too him and she sobbed brokenly against his chest. He would fucking kill Ron Weasley.

He pressed his face to her hair, the last hints of vanilla still clinging and ignored the ache burning a hole in his chest. She obviously still loved Weasley. Even after all the little shit had done, how he had spoken to her. Severus had hoped…

He'd been smiling at Arabella when it had hit him. That the pretty witch who had began to catch his eye the week before was an unfinished version of Hermione.

She was clever, but there wasn't that extra spark of brilliance. Funny, but no hint of the vicious edge that mirrored his own sense of humour. And her hair was simply…wrong.

Yes, the witch who had half-dragged him onto the dance floor was not worth one tenth of the witch he should have waited for. And then he caught sight of Hermione, crying, broken, probably calling him every name in hell. Some friend he was turning out to be.

In that moment, he'd wanted to pull her into his arms and promise that everything would work out well. Make her smile. Make her snort. See her look at him with want. For her to press her trembling little fingers to his jaw again and say that their suitable arrangement no longer suited. That she needed more. She needed everything.

But then there was no fool like an old fool.

Severus let out a long sigh. He was simply there as a friend and good for fucking. And hadn't he just proven that? She didn't want to be held by him, hadn't wanted sympathy when her heart was breaking. No, she'd wanted his hands, his mouth, his dick. Nothing more. As was his life, the woman he wanted had given her heart to someone else. Though Ron fucking Weasley was hardly an ideal choice.

Dark curses moved through his thoughts. Lucius loathed the boy as much as he did –something about Weasley debauching a young Malfoy cousin. Yes, Lucius was certain to be interested in a little touch of recreational correction. His lips quirked upwards. It would be just like old times…

Her sobs were easing and he stroked his fingers over her tangled hair. He pulled his thoughts back to her. "You're fine. I've got you." He pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. "Ready to pick out kneazles yet?"

She choked out a laugh. "Yes. Though it's Sunday. All the good kneazle shops are shut." Her little fingers stroked over his side, following the line to the hip. "I dragged you away from your dance partner."

Her touch was distracting, wanted. "Arabella Fitzsimmons. She's new to Lucius' potions research."

Hermione's fingers stilled on his hip. "Fitzsimmons?" Her breath burned against a nipple and sparked a new wave of need through him. His dick stirred. "Newly divorced…"

She was talking, not crying, so he carried on with the banal conversation. "In the middle of it. Her husband worked his way through the Holyhead Harpies and back again."

"Men are shits."

He laughed softly, and drew in another breath, scenting her hair. "That they are."

She eased back from him and he missed the warmth of her little body. Her gaze flicked around his face, never settling. What could she be nervous about? "I haven't…?" She wiped a hand across her reddened eyes. "This," she waved her fingers at his chest, "this, didn't come between you two, did it, Severus? Because I can't…" She sucked in a ragged breath and more tears spilled. "It wouldn't be fair."

"I had dinner with her last week. You probably saw it…in the paper..."

He stared at her. His heart thudded. Shit. She had seen him in the paper. In the paper. With a woman that had a passing resemblance to her. And the next night she'd had him so fast he thought all his Christmases had come at once. Well, at least four of them.

Jealousy. The absolutely delicious word whispered in the corners of his mind, pulling hope along with it. But then, he hadn't waited for her. Allowed himself to be dragged off by Arabella. A witch Hermione perceived as a rival. A rare joy bubbled up in his chest. Gods, did she truly want him?

He pulled her half-resisting body back to him. He had hurt her in his ignorance. He would set that right. His chest tightened. His? Did she truly want to be his?

Her wild hair, tangled from sex, brushed against his chest. He would have said nothing if Hermione were truly caught by the idiot Weasley –who could now live to annoy another day— but the signs were she wanted him. Why he couldn't fathom, but he was hardly going to turn her away.

He grinned against her hair. Fuck, he felt almost…giddy.

Severus drew in a breath and purposely shaped ice around his thoughts. He was Severus Snape for fuck's sake. Such a nasty piece of work did not do giddy. The wild rush in his blood faded. A little. Enough so that his voice was calm, measured. "It went no further than dinner, Hermione."

"But you wanted…"

He stroked light fingers under her chin, urging her to look at him. His heart wrenched at the red and raw pain in her eyes. Did she believe anyone could stand in her stead? His voice was little more than a whisper, "She will not, and could never hope to be… you."

Hermione stared at him. And stared. Had he just said…? "Me?"

His fingertip drew a slow line across her bottom lip, the simple touch almost magically soothing to her strained nerves. "I realised, quite suddenly, that I already had the witch I wanted." His finger curled away and she wanted to believe that she witnessed a slight tremor to his hand. "If she will have me."

Hermione half hiccupped, half sobbed and flung herself into his arms. "I will have you. And then have you again. You may need a bloody potion to keep up!"

His laughter caught in her hair. He squeezed her tight and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry for not waiting for you tonight. Arabella…"

Even as he held her, her heart twisted. She had come so close to losing him. "It would've gone somewhere."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "It would have gone nowhere. She is not you." He smiled against her skin and her heart pattered. "Luckily for me, I have this very jealous lover who pounced on me before she could strike. Taking me for herself."

Hermione drew back to look at him. His smile was smug, his dark eyes dancing. Oh, she loved that look on his face. Could love it. Freely. "So confident, Professor."

Severus blinked. Red topped his cheeks. His eyes shone. "Professor…?"

His rich drawl deepened the heat in her face. Fuck. He had her all over the place. Her emotions wild and, obviously, her mouth working without the use of her brain. They were just starting out, their…relationship –she almost stumbled over the word, even in her thoughts— was only minutes old. She couldn't share her fantasy. Not that one.

"You used to be one. You used to be mine. It's—"

"Yours, Miss Granger?"

Fire flashed under her skin and she gasped. She clutched at him, the throb to her flesh, sudden, involuntary.

And she thought he'd looked smug before. "Something you'd like to share…Miss Granger?" His voice was velvet, seductive, deadly. He was an utter bastard.

She groaned and buried her mortified face against his chest. Damn him. She gripped her courage, reminding herself that she loved him, and if he felt the same for her then maybe, just maybe, he would agree to this dirty little fantasy of hers. "It's always turned me on. Playing," she wet dry lips, "the idea of your playing the wicked professor."

"To your naughty schoolgirl?" His fingers traced a path down her spine, flickering fresh desire under her skin. His dick was smooth steel against her belly and his voice became sin itself. "Oh how very bad you are. Lusting after you professor."

Hermione shivered, fighting the need to grind herself against him. She found his gaze. "More than lust."

"So much more." His mouth took hers in a slow, delicious tasting that drummed her pulse in her ears. She mewled when he drew back. He lifted an imperious eyebrow, his gaze dark and…wicked. "I find this arrangement no longer…suits. We should make something more permanent, involving shared living spaces and certain…declarations. Do you agree, Miss Granger?"

Her heart was in her throat. Merlin's little green apples, he was asking her to marry him. He was, wasn't he? Dear gods…

She drew her shaking fingers down his sternum, light, her short nails a obviously a pleasure that hitched his breath. "I…I do, Professor." Her tongue caught between her teeth and her eyes held his. Dark. Wanton. Everything she wanted. Everything she loved. "Do you still have your teaching gown? I do love a nice bit of subfusc."

Laughter broke from him. "I ask you to marry me and you care only for my clothes. Wicked girl." He flipped her onto her back and she yelped. "I believe that cheek deserves time with the Potions Master."

Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair, silk soft, little more than ink in the flickering shadows of the small room. A happy sigh escaped as she cradled his hot, hard body against her own. Her thigh rubbed against his hip and she wiggled. She grinned up at his narrowed gaze. To play this game… It suggested an intimacy she could never risk before. Their mutual sudden desire for it was joyous.

Severus caught her wrists in his large hand and pinned them above her head. Involuntarily, she arched under him and his lips brushed hers. "Very wicked, Miss Granger." His voice was a velvet purr that sparked heat deep in her belly. How had she managed without him, without this, without recognising that she loved him for so long?

"Yes, you'll serve a veritable raft of detentions directly under me."

His knuckles played across her sex as his fingers gripped his dick. He teased her. Stroking, pushing, but never quite…

"Gods, Severus, please."

"Shameless girl, using your professor's given name." But further insult was lost in a low moan as he sank into her.

A gasp caught her at his sure stroke. "Only for you, Professor."

He stilled and dark eyes held her. "Indeed." The word was a growl. He drew her bottom lip, grazing it with his teeth. "You're mine…" He released her hands. "As I am yours."

Hermione whimpered and pulled him down into a kiss. "Mine." She pressed her forehead to his. "We should've done this three years ago."

A smile pulled at his lips. "We weren't ready then."

His reply pushed worry over her. She felt herself still so close to losing him. She fought the pained panic tightening around her heart. "And now? Now you're ready?"

"I am looking no further."

Her heart eased and fluttered. He'd proposed, she'd accepted, but this…? Having her words repeated back at her. The promise of just them, only them. The promise of faithfulness… He knew how much that meant to her.

Hermione denied the fall of yet more tears. She grinned up at him, her lips trembling. She pressed her hand to his jaw, its smooth warmth bleeding away all her doubts.

"You know." She rolled her hips and a soft groan escaped him. Her smile turned smug even as obsidian eyes held her. Hot. Fierce. Hers. "I have been such a wickedly naughty girl, Professor. What will you do to correct me?"

"Everything I must. For as long as you'll have me."

And she lost the night to a delightfully depraved Professor Snape.

Hermione's eyes ached. A tentative touch with her finger found them swelled and sore. She groaned and rolled off her stomach onto her side. A smile tugged. The aches in the other parts of her body held more pleasant memories.

She hadn't been on a crying jag like that for, well, ever. The small amount of light leaking through the gap in the curtains was restfully dull and grey. At least it was Sunday and work couldn't drag her in.

"Hold still."

Severus' morning voice, rough and ridiculously sexy made her frown at him. He twitched a smile. "I was Head of House for almost two decades. I had to deal, more than once, with this sort of fall out." The cool whisper of a spell bathed her aching eyes and almost at once it eased. A second later, her tightened vision was clear. "All done."

Hermione let out a soft sigh and stroked a line along his prickled jaw. "Heartbreaker."

Severus closed his eyes. He tensed under her light touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Hermione."

Fuck. "A joke, honestly, a joke." Her lips brushed his. "Everything conspired last night…and I've always been a little emotional." She snuggled against him, wanting his comfort, wanting to comfort him and simply loving the thought of the two ideas –Severus and snuggling— put together. She pressed a kiss to his to the underside of his jaw. "And without it, we could've remained oblivious." She shivered. "Scary thought."

"So." His muscles tenses under her arms and hands and she held her breath. Wanting, needing to believe that his wanting her hadn't been some insane declaration on his part, reacting to her emotional collapse. "Asking you to marry me wasn't too impulsive?"

Hermione pressed her lips together to deny the fresh onslaught of tears. She was sure he'd run off screaming if she cried on him again. "No, not too impulsive." She looked up at him, her grin so wide is made her cheeks ache. But she really didn't care. "Just about the right level, I'd say."

He curled her hair around her finger, his attention fixed on it before he met her gaze again. A rare warmth lit them, not edged with irony or sarcasm. "I want this us to be permanent. No misunderstandings. No doubts. Never again." He wet his lips. "You jammed yourself into my life. I don't want the pain or inconvenience of extracting you."

Hermione laughed and his lips twitched. She doubted she would ever hear sweet nothings from Severus Snape. But that was more than fine. He made her laugh and she knew what she meant to him. He had asked her to marry him. Was stating it again. "I don't want to be removed. Not at all. You're stuck with me. It would be just as annoying to me." She glanced up at the large four poster. "Plus you have the better bed."

"I do." There was that smug smile again. "Yours would not hold up to rigorous testing."

She pressed her face to his chest and squeezed him till he grunted. "You are perfect for me. In every way." She willed herself finally to admit something not spoken the night before. "And I love you."

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her temple. "And I you." He curved a smile against her skin. "Though I may love you hair more. Or it could be a tie. Only time will tell."

"Evil man."

Severus returned her squeeze. "Always."

I know. I couldn't resist the 'always' there. Sorry.

I have to work on Demons this week. I really have to, as its due quiet soon. Eep. So…next week I should be back working on The Ribboned Witch. :D

As ever let me know what you think about this one!

And yay, I finished another fic!