So…3pm, I'm thinking about Tim Roth and his use of the phrase 'a guilty pleasure', which he used about my city. And feeling…annoyed.

6.5 hours, and 6500 words later. (And why can I never write this amount on my original fics? Why?) I have this story. It's finished. I'll post it each morning. I think there are about 6 parts.

And does anyone think it's weird that in a parallel world, the makers of the films went with their first choice of Tim Roth as Severus Snape…? Severus without his voice? No…!

As ever, anything not JKR's is mine.

Oh, and this is a tad angsty…but I promise, there is a big fat HEA :)

"Am I your dirty secret, Miss Granger?" Severus stepped out of the bathroom, slipping into place the last of his buttons on his frockcoat. He lifted a coal-black eyebrow. "Your guilty pleasure?"

Hermione stared at him. She blinked. "Miss Granger?" He hadn't called her that. Ever. Not in private. Not when it was just the two of them. And certainly not after they'd spent a thoroughly delightful hot and sweaty Saturday afternoon in her bed. "Severus…?"

A long finger lightly stroked the stiff line of his collar and dipped to his cravat, straightening both. The bubbled, still-reddened scar edged above the snowy whiteness of his collar and a fist tightened around Hermione's heart as it always did. There were so many scars on him. So many. Outside and in.

He slid a copy of the Evening Prophet from her grandmother's rather hideous cabinet. She frowned at it. The foul old thing was something she should load off to a charity shop, but guilt kept it with her. No, it was not something to be put on display in her sitting room with its odd angles and outdated design. It was better here. After all, even with Severus Snape as her lover, she didn't spend an inordinate amount of time in her bedroom. A smile twitched. When they got to the bedroom. Today was a rare day. He did seem to loathe her bed…

Severus was flicking through the paper. He folded it and folded it over again, before he dropped it on the rumpled sheets.

Hermione stared at the picture. It was of her. She frowned. At that reception for senior Ministry officials the previous Thursday. She was only a lowly assistant in Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but her war record had bumped up her invitation. The Ministry did so love to show off its war heroes.

The photograph captured a moment. Her arm through Carlos', a saucer of expensive champagne in her free hand, as she laughed at something Arthur Weasley said. A smile lifted her mouth. All three of them had been caught up in one of Carlos' dragon tales. She looked up to Severus. "Another Ministry event. It was nothing special. Just the usual." Her smile grew. "Carlos had this story about…"

Two spots of colour touched the tops of his pale cheeks and his dark eyes shuttered. "I think it best we end these…assignations."

Hermione's heart cracked. She pressed a hand to her throat and fought to breathe. End…? "Why?" Her voice broke on the question. "Two…two years, Severus. Two. You…"

He'd been her first. Not that she'd been saving herself –and a twenty two year old virgin wasn't that strange— but some part of her had hungered for him. To have him. The aloof, mysterious Potions Master. To be the focus of his desire. Solely his. And it was bliss. Until now.

"I believe we have had our fill of each other, have we not?" He was the cold, fierce man she'd met at her time at Hogwarts. Not her lover. Not her Severus.

"I…" Another splinter cut through her heart and the words wouldn't come. Had our fill. No. No, she hadn't. She wouldn't have her fill of him for the next two centuries. Longer. She pressed her lips together. Then he'd had his fill of her?

The words he'd said pinged against her thoughts. A dirty secret? He was hardly her dirty secret. Was he pushing that back onto her? Was she his? Her thoughts twisted. Oh gods, he really didn't want her.

Pain lanced through her chest and her eyes burned. Closing her eyes, cold tears escaped to her cheeks.

"This can hardly come as a surprise, Miss Granger."

The title cut and a sob broke from her. "Don't call me that. Never call me that."

That damnable eyebrow rose again. "And why should I not? Why shouldn't I extend the outside world to this flat?" He looked around the small bedroom with a sneer of disgust. "To this particular room?"

"Severus…"

"In the beginning, I thought…" A hint of pain edged his dark eyes and the familiar furrow deepened between his eyes. Her fingers itched to smooth it away. "But I soon came to realise what I was to you."

"Severus, I never—"

He grabbed the paper and flung it again to her bed, jabbing a finger at it. "Not once, Miss Granger, in your two precious years, not once, have you stepped out on my arm." He sneered at her as her mouth parted to argue. "Any other wizard was preferable to me. Any! Nothing could sully the immaculate reputation of the Gryffindor Princess, could it? Certainly not a hint of an assignation with a notorious dark wizard.

"Carlos," the name was drawn out with distaste, "has accompanied you eleven times. Do you fuck him too? Why do you think I never want to take you here in this room? In that bed? To lie in the shadow of another man is abhorrent."

He straightened. "I did today to remind myself of what I am. Simply your…fucktoy." His mouth twisted. "Enough. I am done." He gave her a short nod. "It is time I put my expectations…behind me."

And with a crack, he was gone.

Let me know what you think! :)

I hope to crank out chapter 11 for A Soul-Mate's Kiss tomorrow. Ugh, my plans for original fic work is falling away this weekend!