Pairing: Primary Severus/Hermione, cameos by others
Summary: A host of former students, faculty, and yes, even Ministry officials return to Hogwarts for a Yuletide reunion. Sexual hijinks ensue, but sadly, no one can blame the Weasley twins for tampering with the punch.
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3,600 give or take
Warnings: Infidelity, light restraints, foul language, nauseating displays of holiday merriment, Severus survives the war.
Author's notes: Melody, I am thrilled to be writing for you! I honestly tried to come up with a story featuring a different one of your pairs, but Severus/Hermione just kept calling me back. I hope this meets your approval. Many thanks to Worrywart for betaing—she caught so much that I didn't, and in case you didn't know, she is absolutely a goddess among mortals!

Severus glanced to the door, judging the distance from where he stood and the speed with which he could cut through the crowd, balanced against how close he was to vomiting.

No. He probably wouldn't make it in time.

Unfortunate, too, seeing as how the flagstone floor of the Great Hall had been polished to a high gleam for this party, and he himself was wearing a brand-new pair of dragonhide boots.

Narcissa's high-pitched giggle pulled his attention away from the turmoil of his mental indigestion back to his current companions.

"Arthur, do stop. You were easily as influential as I, if not more than, in the founding of that trust." The Malfoy matriarch practically cooed and Severus felt his stomach roll in time with his eyes.

"Not at all, Narcissa," Arthur Weasley replied, favoring her with an overly-solicitous smile that turned Severus' stomach even more. The two had been sending each other peculiar looks and heaping mutual praise for the past quarter hour, and Severus would eat his entire robe if there wasn't some illicit affair between the two. There could be no other explanation for the positively gooey way Arthur was staring at the woman nor the generous tilt to the formerly stoic Narcissa's lips. Severus simply shook his head—there was no accounting for some people's tastes.

Disgusted with them both, he made a lame excuse that was completely ignored and strode from the hall, relieved to find that his innards settled almost immediately. Honestly—practically falling all over one another in a public setting. Not that he would condemn someone from stepping outside their marriage vows, but to do so and then flaunt it? Disgraceful. Severus had half a mind to send an anonymous owl to Molly Weasley, if only to witness the spectacle that would surely occur once the formidable woman discovered her husband's infidelity. Then again...perhaps she, too, had had her dalliances.

The very idea had his feet speeding up of their own accord, as though she was currently seeking him out for just such a purpose. Laughable, of course. His was not a countenance nor a disposition that inspired lust, this he knew. Fear, yes. Awe, occasionally. But desire? Hardly.

He slowed once he reached the familiar dungeon corridors, allowing himself to inhale deeply and reminisce, just the slightest, about his time at the school. It had been several years since the war now, and he was quite satisfactorily in his well-earned retirement, but it did feel comforting to be prowling these halls once again. He neared the Potions classroom and reached for the door out of habit, but something gave him pause. Did he really wish to roam aimlessly around his old teaching environs?

He was saved from making a decision by the muffled sound of voices echoing down the hall. Releasing the knob, he crept down the corridor, falling into stealth by habit. He rounded a corner silently, but it would not have mattered—he felt certain that the two figures up ahead wouldn't have noticed if he'd rode a Hippogriff into the hallway completely bare-assed.

Severus' (only) favorite Weasley, Bill, was leaning over none other than Hermione Granger, one long, tattooed arm resting on the stone wall above her head. The girl herself was slouched against the stones in the universal posture of invitation. Severus only nearly refrained from rolling his eyes in irritation. Whatever was going on between the two of them was hardly his concern. He began to turn away, but then he remembered a headline from The Prophet just after the war.

It wasn't Hermione Granger. It was Hermione Granger-Weasley.

And she was consorting with the wrong Weasley.

Severus decided to stay and watch out of prurient interest. He strolled a bit closer so he could hear their words more clearly. It seemed that there was a slight disagreement between the two of them—that Bill was reluctant to take whatever Hermione was offering.

"M'brother's a poxy niffler's arse, but he's still my brother. Although he's probably got a flobberworm in his trou—"

"Just shut up and kiss me," she commanded, her lips tilting in a smug smile as Bill surrendered and leaned closer.

Severus waited until their lips were a hair's breadth apart. "What," he intoned in his long-unused professor's voice, "is going on here?"

The pair sprang apart, and Bill at least had the good grace to look embarrassed at being caught. Severus dismissed Bill with barely a glance before turning his attention to Hermione.

"It would appear you've been drinking too much whisky. The redhead you are attempting to seduce is not the redhead to whom you are married."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she pushed off from the wall and came to stand in front of Severus. "This is none of your concern."

"Hm. True. And yet, here we are." He crossed his arms and stared right back at her, strangely enjoying their altercation.

"You don't intimidate me anymore, Professor, and I said this is none of your— He's gone, isn't he?" Hermione whipped around, searching the hall for any sign of Bill. When only emptiness greeted them, she sighed and turned back to Severus. "Look, I love my husband, but our marriage has just been...dissatisfying, of late. For both of us."

Severus couldn't prevent his brows from rising. "And so you thought a different Weasley would solve your dilemma?"

Hermione sniffed, her nose in the air. "It may not have been the best plan, no," she admitted grudgingly. "But what would you have me do? I'm still famous in our world. I can't go anywhere without my every movement reported. At least, if it was someone who understood..."

"That logic sounds beastly." Severus almost smiled at the adorable frustration on her features. He stepped closer, gratified when her pupils dilated. He lowered his voice. "You need a man, not another boy. Someone who won't let you...control him. Someone, perhaps, who would even attempt to control you."

He stepped back, his mission to unsettle her accomplished, but she surprised him by following. He found his arms full of plush curves and his face assaulted by wisps of curly hair. Her fingers began walking up his lapel.

"I happen to know that Greenhouse 3 is unlocked. In case you were feeling...sentimental," she breathed. Then she was backing away down the hallway, her hands clasped behind her back. "Midnight," she whispered before turning and disappearing into the shadows.

Severus was uncertain how long he remained there, debating where he would find himself come midnight.

00000

Hermione stared at her distorted reflection in the greenhouse glass. Her face looked as unfamiliar as she felt. She hadn't been feeling herself lately, that was true, but propositioning not one but two people in one night? That wasn't the woman she knew.

She started for the door, resolved to go home and...and...

And what? Wait for Ron to stumble in, reeking of spirits and some other witch's perfume? Or better yet, arrive home fully sober and ready to argue some more?

No. She couldn't do it. She would start divorce proceedings tomorrow, but tonight—tonight was for her.

Returning to her place at the window, Hermione squinted to see if she could make out any shadowy figures moving towards her. A bolt of anticipation lanced through her, and suddenly Hermione wished she had had another glass of Firewhisky before she'd come out. She had no illusions, of course—it was just as likely that Severus would fail to show as anything.

But what if he did?

Oh, but what if he did. A shiver raced down her spine, but she ruthlessly crushed it. If he did show up, it would no doubt be to chastise her further. Severus Snape did not seem the type to dally with married women in abandoned greenhouses. Especially women who were former, irritating students.

Except—there had been one time. One time where they had looked at each other as a man and woman. Hermione had almost forgotten it after all this time, but now she dredged up the memory. It had been an Order celebration—well not a celebration, really, but rather a gathering—in the autumn following the final battle. They had all descended upon Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, to send Ron and Harry off to Auror training in style. Molly had outdone herself on the feast, George had seemed more himself again after rigging a few indoor fireworks, and even Minerva had shown up with a bottle of Ogden's Finest for each boy. But none of that had held a candle to the moment when Severus limped into the room, scowling at the assembly before making what he must have thought passed for a smile and rasping, "Well, do go on, then."

His recovery had been the talk of their world for months, and an actual sighting from the reclusive man was unheard of. But there he had been, stationed in a chair at the far end of the massive kitchen, watching the proceedings with those obsidian eyes that Hermione had found locked on her more than once throughout the night. It had been unsettling, yes, but also thrilling, and by the end of the evening Hermione hadn't been able to take it anymore. She'd excused herself and fled to the library, knowing that she'd not encounter anyone else there.

But someone had joined her. Severus had eventually followed her, slipping into the room and standing at the door, waiting for her to tell him to leave or invite him to join her. In the end, Hermione had been too tied up in knots to do either, and all she could think was to escape the suddenly suffocating thickness of the air in the house. She'd practically lunged for the door at the same moment he moved to leave, and they'd found themselves pressed together in the doorway. In that moment, she'd known they'd both felt the same jolt of something, but coward that she was, she'd fled.

And then Ron had proposed a few days later, and she'd forgotten all about Severus and his probing eyes. Until tonight. Now that the memory was back, so was the dizzying thrill and the terrifying uncertainty. She had nearly made up her mind to bolt again when she heard the scrape of the door against the earthen floor.

"Dare I ask how many men you've entertained in here tonight?" he drawled as he approached. Hermione took a moment to observe him while she searched for a response. He still carried a slight limp, but his voice was nearly what it had been before Nagini's attack. His general demeanor certainly hadn't changed. He was still imposing, severe, unyielding—except now that she was grown and no longer his pupil, these qualities were more attractive than repellant.

She finally settled on a saucy response. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she asked, waiting for him to reach her station by the window. "Care to be another notch on my bedpost?" She only hoped he didn't mistake her bravado for the anxiety it actually was.

He made an exaggerated show of looking around. "Difficult, when there is no bed present." His eyes landed on hers again, and she knew he would not release her until he'd satisfied himself with her intent. She squared her shoulders and forced herself to maintain eye contact. Belatedly, she wondered if she ought to thrust out her breasts or something, but then he had stepped closer, and she realized her battle was halfway won. She felt her lips start to curl in a smile.

He wouldn't have come if he hadn't been at least curious.

"Never mind," he murmured, running his eyes down her body slowly. "I've no need of a bed for what I have in mind."

Without warning, he surged forward, pressing her against the cool glass of the wall. His lips landed on hers with a ferocity that surprised her, but then he was plundering her mouth so completely that she lost all train of thought other than pressing back against him. His hands speared into her hair, angling her head, then they began a slow slide down her body. His tongue dipped into her mouth just as he grasped her buttocks and lifted, pressing her more firmly into the window panes. He didn't have to urge her to wrap her legs around his waist.

Tearing his mouth away from hers, his eyes bored into hers. "You will tell me what you want, and then you will scream my name while we do it. Is that clear?" he growled.

"Oh, god," she wailed, her legs clenching involuntarily against his waist. "Yes, Severus. I want you to keep talking to me. Talk to me while you...do things."

"And here I always imagined you were the one who talked her way through sex," he ground out as she yanked the sides of robes apart and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Only if you're not doing your job well enough," she panted, gasping when he nipped the corded muscles at her neck and shoulder.

He only snorted in response. It was a sound that said, That will not be a problem.

"I want your mouth on my tits," she moaned, struggling with one of his buttons. Her hands stilled, their task forgotten, when he shoved her silk blouse and brassiere up and out of his way. His mouth latched onto one nipple with a startling intensity that sent moisture rushing straight to between her legs. He swirled his tongue over the taut peak before rolling and biting her nipple. Hermione groaned again and renewed her efforts to get his shirt open. Still encountering resistance, Hermione gripped the two sides and pulled, feeling a keen sense of satisfaction when she heard buttons scattering on the floor. Dragging her hands down his bared chest, she felt like she was about to burst. "Fuck it," she said. "I want you to fuck me now."

Severus practically dropped her. They both wrestled clothing off and away before flinging themselves back at each other. Hermione sighed happily at the feel of his skin against hers, but all too soon it wasn't enough. She stroked his cock once as she said, "I want you inside me, Severus."

"Merlin's ballsack," Severus replied, tilting his hips back to pull out of her reach. "Give a man a chance to seduce you, witch."

"But you said—"

"Fuck what I said. You're going to wait until I'm ready to fuck you, and then you're going to beg me to finish you off," he bit out. Hermione's knees buckled and then he was there, lifting her up against the cold panes of glass again.

"Severus!" she shrieked as the cold hit her bare skin. "You can't just press my bare arse against the window! What if someone sees?"

"Then they'll see you being quite satisfactorily pleasured," he answered from between her breasts. After that, she didn't have much to say other than 'yes' and 'god'and 'more'. He suckled her breasts while he plunged two fingers into her heat, and then he pumped her mercilessly. Several times Hermione came close to orgasm, and every time he pulled back.

"Severus, please!" she cried.

"Still bossy," he answered. He set her down and stepped away to where she'd tossed his robes, returning with his wand in hand. Hermione was so far gone she wasn't even nervous, simply intrigued. Severus flicked the wand and suddenly she was being lifted into the air and held there by a number of vines.

Now she was nervous. "Er, Severus, I—"

"Relax," he instructed her, flicking the wand again before setting it on a worktable. The vines held her aloft against the glass windows with her quim at his eye level. Testing the strength of the plants, she found them to be firm and supportive but not totally restrictive.

"I won't hurt you," he reassured her, his eyes locked on the moisture beginning to drip down her thigh. He glanced up at her briefly. "Unless you want me to," he added slyly.

Hermione found herself relaxing just as he'd asked. "I trust you," she announced, knowing he was waiting to hear the words even if he hadn't asked the question.

"Good. Because I'm going to make you come at least three times before I take you," he replied, bending his head and inhaling her scent. Then he licked, one long, slow lick from vagina to clitoris, before setting himself to his task with gusto. It couldn't have been more than a minute before Hermione was screaming his name into the darkened corners of the greenhouse, limp against the vines, thighs twitching.

Severus straightened and grinned at her as he wiped his mouth. The sight was so erotic, Hermione nearly came again. But she managed to restrain herself—after all, the man had set a very specific goal. Far be it from her to deny him his power trip.

The vines lowered her a bit, just enough to put her face at the same height as his. His lips returned to hers, but there was more gentleness this time than last. More exploration. Hermione kissed him back just as contentedly, letting her tongue draw lazy patterns against his and over his lips. Eventually his mouth slid to her jaw, and neck, and ear. His hands came up to plump her breasts and he dipped his head to trail kisses across the tops of those, too.

Hermione let her head fall back against the window, thankful that the glass heated quickly against her skin. She arched her back, pressing her breasts more firmly against his mouth, and he did not disappoint. She had no doubt that her skin would be speckled with bruises and love bites come morning, but she found that she didn't care. It was worth it, right now, to have him nipping at her skin as his fingers rolled her nipples just to the point of pain.

He slipped his cock between her legs and rubbed himself against her wetness. Hermione whimpered and shifted, trying to take him in, but he evaded her deftly. Instead he drove her mad, rubbing his erection on her clit until she thought she would scream. Then he bit a nipple right as he thrust his fingers back inside of her, and she did scream.

She was panting when he withdrew, and the vines lowered her yet again. Now her face was level with his erection, a sight she had only had a few moments to examine earlier. Her eyes roved his length, gauged his girth, noted the vulnerable sack beneath. He pressed forward, and the vines around Hermione's arms pulled back, just enough to thrust her chest forward. He drew the tip of his cock over her breasts with agonizing slowness, and Hermione chafed at her restraints.

"Let me touch you," she commanded. "It'll be so good."

"Yes, it will," he answered smugly. "Open up, there's a good girl."

He pressed his cock to her lips, and Hermione flicked her tongue over his tip before taking him into her mouth. Severus groaned, and Hermione felt an answering pang where she was most desperate for him. She ran her tongue over the vein on the underside of his penis, twirling her tongue over the head, again and again. Remarkably, she felt herself growing aroused again.

"If you won't let me touch you, may I touch myself?" she asked, only glancing at him briefly before returning her attention to his cock. She took him deep into her mouth, registering his moan, before she felt the vines release one hand. Immediately she pressed her fingers against her clit, rubbing and stroking the way she knew would finish her off quickly. She bobbed her head in time with her fingers, and then Severus was stiffening and she was moaning around a mouthful of cock and she suddenly found herself yanked up and thrown onto a wooden table.

Severus loomed over her, all traces of his smirk gone. "Two and a half times will have to do," he announced before thrusting into her. It was all Hermione could do to lock her ankles behind his back and hold onto the table for dear life. Severus pounded into her with a rhythm and pace that had her yelling his name, Merlin's name, perhaps even the name of Godric Gryffindor himself. Just as she thought she couldn't possibly take any more, Severus was shouting her name and Salazar's as well and then he was slumped against her, pressing her into the rough surface of the table.

Hermione looped a hand over his neck, holding him to her, and passed out in a post-coital stupor.

00000

"How did you know this particular building would be open, by the way?" he asked, his voice rumbling through his chest beneath her ear sometime later. They had relocated to a heap of burlap bags some time ago, after the table had grown uncomfortable.

"Actually, I stumbled across Neville, Luna, and Draco earlier," she answered, smiling as she anticipated his reaction.

He surprised her once again, however. "Neville Longbottom? Truly? I can't countenance it," he said, incredulous.

Hermione grimaced. "Be glad you can't countenance it," she told him. "The position they were in had to be one of Luna's crazy ideas, and I never want to see Draco's pale arse waving around in the air again! Never mind the placement of the antlers and jingle bells."

She could practically feel his smirk. "Let us hope he didn't see your pale arse pressed against the window, either," he said.

Hermione decided to exact a much more pleasurable revenge on him for teasing her, not caring who saw them.