A/N: It's so exciting, beginning a new story! I've been working on this for a while, and it's almost done, except for the final editing of each chapter. I aim to update once a week. Please, tell me what you think! 3

1: Whirling Through Time

Hermione bit her quill savagely, almost coughing as a few, downy feathers came loose. She had detention. She, Hermione Granger, model student extraordinaire, had detention. With Professor Snape, and for a very spurious reason too, if she had to say so herself.

He had given her detention for 'not having an effective wand movement" on her Reductor Curse. Sitting in his dungeon office, writing lines, she snorted indignantly. This was a new low, even for Snape. If he was going to give people detention for not having good enough wand movements, the whole school would spend their evenings with him in the dungeons. And why would he start with something as asinine as this so late in the year? It was 28 February! If he set so much store by perfect wand movements, he should have emphasized this earlier in the year, not springing it upon her like a nasty surprise when half the school year was gone!

Her snort had made him lift his head, his own quill stopping its scratching, and she paused in writing her lines, meeting those black, inscrutable eyes. The line between his eyes deepened into a scowl, and his lips thinned as he narrowed his eyes, glowering at her.

Hermione felt herself swallow, like her mouth had gone mysteriously dry. He was scary. No matter what she tried to tell the boys about him and his allegiances, however much she tried to reassure Neville, the truth was: Deep down, Professor Snape made her uneasy, increasingly so.

Then, she realized: He had been looking at her before. More and more, in those last months, and with a growing intensity too. Now, he was staring like he had never seen her before. Why hadn't her brain registered this before now? Why had this happened?

Suddenly, he rose from his chair, stalking towards her with a predatory, terrifying scowl on his face, those black robes swirling around his body. Without meaning too, she leaned back in her chair, like she wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Silly rumours flitted through her mind: what Death Eaters supposedly did to young Muggleborn girls at revels, the thick, silent walls of the dungeon chambers, or even him being a vampire, her virgin blood as an expensive Potion ingredient…

Without warning, with a flick of his wrist, she was Divested of all her clothes, the stone-cold dungeon chill seeping into her exposed skin quickly, even before she managed to gasp. She blinked at her teacher in terrified shock, feeling goosebumps erupting all over her body, the wooden chair underneath her arse the only thing that held a semblance of warmth.

He thrust a blue-glowing ring into her hand, closing her fist around it, before he drawled in his deep voice: "This is a Portkey through time. It returns in one hour. Remember, what happens in the past, has already happened."

The room started to spin with a sickening momentum, and momentarily, everything went black.

Xxxx

She landed hard on her back on something soft and pillowy, her legs bouncing up in the air by the impact. Emitting a squeak of surprise, she shook her head, feeling the disorientation slide off. Bending her knees, she managed to lift her head to take a cautious look around her. Staring up in what appeared to be the forest green canopy of a four-poster bed, she heard a harsh, in-drawn breath.

Angling her head forward, those same, black eyes that she had last seen in the dungeon office met her own eyes. Except this time, they belonged to a clearly shocked young man with shoulder-length, stringy black hair. Her mouth fell open, as he was also naked, his right hand fisting a large, very erect cock.

Looking crestfallen, he whispered: "Who are you? And why the fuck are you here?"

Blushing fiercely, she realized she lay sprawled in front of him, naked, on her back, her legs spread open. His eyes were roving over her, like she was a gift from above, wandering from her sex, to her breasts, to her face.

Scrambling up with another squeak, she tried to hide her nakedness, closing her legs and crossing her arms over her breasts.

Her movements made him snatch the covers, hiding his lower body, though the tented bulge told her he was still as hard as he had been a moment ago.

"Are you… are you… Severus Snape?" she asked, her voice more shrill than she would have liked.

He nodded. "Do you know me? I've never seen you before."

Shaking her head in disbelief, small, hysterical giggles burst out of her mouth.

He rolled his eyes impatiently, and said sharply, the sting in his voice so very familiar from his classroom: "I can't see what's so amusing about this. You fall into my bed, in the middle of the night, and you should feel lucky I didn't curse you, you silly chit. Who sent you?"

"You!" she choked out, but as she saw him going for his wand, she raised her hands placatingly. "It's true," she said, proffering that ring, the Portkey towards him. "You Divested me of all my clothes, gave me this, telling me it's a Portkey through time, and now I'm here. In the past. In your past."

He snatched the ring from her, examined it with a furrowed brow. "Where did you get this?"

"I just told you."

"That ring belongs to my mother. What did you do to her?" His glare was accusing.

She shrugged. "I've never met your mother. You, on the other hand, sent me here. What year is this?"

"1978," he said automatically, before narrowing his eyes. "You maintain that I sent you back?"

"Yes."

Somewhere between her eyes, she felt a light, strange probing, like a touch, and then she wrung her eyes away from him, growling: "Don't do that!"

He smirked at her. "You would too, if you were me. But… I only checked if you were lying to me."

"And…?" she said, arching an eyebrow arrogantly at him.

Grudgingly, he said: "You speak, surprisingly enough, the truth. Or else, someone did a hell of a job of Confounding you."

"Hardly," she scoffed, jutting out her chin. "I'm not that easy to hex."

"Except for me, obviously," he said, a nasty little grin around his mouth.

She didn't deign him with an answer to that, and silence fell, as he turned the ring between his fingers. Wisely enough, she took the opportunity to pull his covers over her body, making sure she was sitting on the far side of the bed. He raised an eyebrow at that, but continued to examine the ring.

"A Portkey through time," he muttered to himself.

"It returns in one hour," she said, "though I've never heard of magic like this, except in experimental theory."

He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. "Aye. Louise Grisham's theory predicts the possibility, but I've never heard of anyone trying to make a go of it. The danger..."

"Exactly," she replied, almost beaming at him. "Her theory didn't solve the practical appliance of the spell, but.."

"... she laid a solid foundation for theoretical displacement of time and space, paving the way for further research," he continued, giving her a satisfied nod.

They stared at each other for a moment, both with an incredulous expression.

Hermione said weakly: "You actually read Grisham's theory?"

"Stating the obvious, are you?" he snapped, before he grudgingly added, giving her an impressed once-over: "and apparently, so did you."

"Yes," Hermione said slowly. "I've never met anyone my age who've even heard of Grisham."

That brought a small smile on his face. "Me neither," he said, voice softer than before. "How old are you?"

"Sixth year, and I'm seventeen."

"I'm eighteen, in my seventh year. So, I'm actually your teacher in the future, from what I gathered in your mind?"

"Yes. You've been my Professor since my first year."

Mollified, he looked askance at her. "Why did I send you back naked, when I've been your teacher since you were a child? That's just ...sick."

She snorted. "I have no idea."

"What do I teach?"

"Defense."

He looked pleased, but surprised. Then his interest was picked. "Is that a curse scar on your chest?"

She looked down, grimacing as she saw the raised, puckered ridge left by Dolohov's curse in the Ministry.

"It is," she confirmed.

His eyes glittered. "You've been in a real fight, not only a duel? What kind of curse was it?"

"A very real fight. It was last year, and I was lucky to get out alive. This is the mark of the Heartburn Curse."

He blew a low, impressed whistle. "And how come you're still alive? By all accounts, you should be dead, your intestines, heart and lungs consumed by the acidic in your stomach!"

She felt surprised, realizing that he actually knew this curse. Everyone, including Headmaster Dumbledore, had told her this was a very obscure, Dark curse. He had to be well-read, indeed.

Shrugging, like this was a trifling matter to her, she said nonchalantly: "I managed to Silence the wizard casting it, so he hit me with a weaker, wordless version of the curse."

"Impressive," he muttered, giving her an appraising glance.

She reddened, feeling like her pretense had worked too well. "It was all I could do at the moment." Self-consciously, she added: "The scar looks looks ugly, it's … bad."

"I think you look just fine," he said, locking his eyes on her chest. "I wonder if I'll remember this in the future?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "You told me, as you sent me back, to remember what happens in the past, has already happened."

He swallowed. "I can't believe it. I sent you back, naked, a girl who knows experimental, theoretical magic, into my bed, just as I was…" he blushed, his eyes glancing at her naked shoulders, the top of her breasts barely covered. The bulge in his bed clothes reappeared with an alarming rapidity, tenting the fabric. "Does this mean…"

She felt heat travel over her body. Maybe it did. Maybe in 1997, she had, already, had sex with Severus Snape, in his bed, in the distant past. Maybe he had known it all along. Maybe her scary, but brilliant teacher had known her before she started at Hogwarts.

"I don't know," she whispered, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue.

His stare became intense, zooming in on her mouth, and she couldn't help it, her lips parted a little, and her breath came faster.

Slowly, like she was a wild animal, he moved towards her, eyes locked on her mouth, before he clumsily grasped her neck, pulling her to him. His mouth crashed down on hers, and for a moment, she thought about struggling, but then her body decided to disregard that altogether, instead she opened her mouth to his roving tongue, panting into his mouth as she clutched his shoulders.

His kiss was inexperienced at the best, a little too wet, too sloppy, too open-mouthed, but his eagerness made up for that. Hermione felt her body start to tingle, like there was a heavy warmth located in her breasts and between her legs. Her mind, however, worked furiously to make sense of the fact that she was kissing Professor Snape - and enjoying it. No, he wasn't her Professor yet, he was just a young man, a little older than herself, and obviously very eager to explore her body. And it felt good.

His hand was sliding down to her shoulders, brushing her hair away, his mouth following, nuzzling her neck, before his hands dragged down to the covers she still clutched in front of her chest. He tugged at the bedding, and she held onto it, giving a small show of resistance, before he was victorious, baring her breasts.

The gasp he made was very satisfying, though, and the dazed look in his eyes was more than flattering. He reached out a shaky hand, touching her right breast gently, fingering the nipple, hefting her breast into his large palm, like he was testing its weight.

Hermione realized, he was as tall as he would be in the future, though significantly thinner. Wiry, that was the word to describe him, she thought whimsically, as she arched her chest into his hand, giving off a soft moan that made him grunt, black eyes incredulous: "You like it?"

She blushed slightly, whispering: "Yes. It feels good to me."

At that, his hands almost became frantic, pinching, rolling and stroking her nipples, before he looked at her nervously, wrenching the covers off to expose her body fully.

He swallowed deeply as he stared at her sex again, and Hermione felt a deep tremor inside her belly by seeing the evident desire in his eyes. His lap was still covered by the bedding, though he was crouching almost on all fours over her.

Eyes asking for leave, he moved one hand towards her crotch, and Hermione felt moisture pooling between her legs, slicking her sex in anticipation. Finding his answer in her small nod, he buried his hand between her legs, dragging his fingers through her slit. With a small growl, he panted: "You're wet! For me?"

"Yes," she mumbled, her rational mind screaming: You can't admit to something like that to Professor Snape! He'll destroy you! Shut up, another part of her muttered callously. This has already happened, and he has never mentioned it.

Taking hold of his hand, she guided him to her clit, saying: "That's it. That little nub there, it feels best when you pet me there. Yes, right there."

"Aye," he said hoarsely, eyes locked on the apex of her thighs, and then he used his other hand to part her legs more. His Adam's apple bobbed, as he took in the sight of her dripping sex, and then he moved forward, pinning her to the bed.

She yelped, as she landed on her back again, this time with him between her legs, and she felt his whole body tremble with need. His rock-hard erection brushed her stomach, before he pulled back a little, fumbling between them. With a feeling of shock, she realized he was guiding his cock to her opening. Before she could say a word, to utter a protest, he thrust into her, hard, and she grunted in pained surprise.

He was stretching her, filling her up, and it was slightly painful, as he worked his way inside her with increasingly harder thrusts.

"Gods, oh, this feels so good, you're so tight around my cock, so wet," he mumbled, eyes closed and mouth half open, before he shuddered, twitching inside her once - twice, and she felt a rush of hot wetness inside her.

He buried his head into her shoulder, gasping, but she only managed to blink. How would she ever be able to face the Professor Snape of her future?

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hold back," he muttered after a short while. "I know, it shouldn't be this rushed."

"It's ok," she said weakly, patting his shoulder awkwardly, because she didn't know what else to do, feeling like her world had been turned on its head. Professor Snape had, in all likelihood, lost his virginity to her, and in the process, he had taken hers too.

Not that her virginity was especially important to her, but she had never imagined something like this to happen. She had believed it would happen in a drunken fumble, with a boy her own age, not by Time-travelling to her Professor's bed.

He rolled over, lying on his back, breathing heavily, before he pulled her to his chest, tucking her into his arms. She rested her head on his thin frame, feeling his galloping heartbeat slow, and her thighs became wet and sticky by his semen trickling out of her.

Then his hands became exploratory again, and he mumbled: "I'll make it good for you too. You deserve that."

Her breath hitched, as his hands sought her breasts again, playing with them, before moving down to her hips and arse. Lifting one of her legs across his thighs, he gained access to her sex again, fingers trailing through the sticky mess he had left there.

"In the front, right here?" he asked, fingering her nub.

"Yes, that's the spot," she murmured, feeling heat gathering in her belly again. Somehow, impossibly, she found that the thought of her future Professor doing this to her was turning her on. It was sort of kinky, having this young version of her stern teacher fingering her private parts.

"You feel so good," he groaned, and she panted a little, feeling her belly clench. Her nub was tingling, and there was the familiar pressure building up, and she moaned. Her response made him catch his breath, and suddenly, she felt his cock nudge her stomach again, twitching slightly against her.

She looked down, seeing the red, bulbous head bobbing against her, the thick stem beyond widening out towards the base, nestling in coarse, black hairs. A surge of want, guilt and giddiness rushed through her: I'll be thinking of this in the next Defense class!

"You're ready for more?" she asked breathlessly.

He nodded, half ashamed, half proud. Guiding his cock to her entrance again, he slid the tip inside. The stretch was present this time too, but the slick wetness from his earlier release and her own fluids smoothed his way inside, and she watched his cock disappear between her legs with fascination.

He growled a little, incoherently, and started thrusting into her again, fingers still on her nub. Feeling her sex tingle, the need building up, she gasped, clenching her muscles around him, making him groan, thrusting harder.

"Move your fingers, harder," she whispered, and he obeyed, flicking his fingers over her clit, making her throb, the simmering fire in her belly suddenly erupt into roaring flames as she came, squirming on his cock, convulsing around him, clenching and trembling.

Giving off little cries, she heard herself moan: "Professor Snape!"

He came inside her again, eyes wide open, his cock jerking in her channel, seed spurting with his drawn-out groans.

Clutching each other, she laid her head against his chest again, panting. Then he chuckled slowly. "Professor Snape, is it? Now, my life's ambition is to become a Defense teacher. Then, I'll know this will be happening."

Hermione gave an uneasy smile. She knew, he had wanted the Defense position for years. Surely, this couldn't be the reason for him coveting the position…

He continued: "I don't even know your name…" Suddenly, he yanked her up, pointing at the blue glow shining from his pillow. "There, your Portkey is ready!"

She gave him a panicked look, before diving forward to catch it at the last moment.

"I'll see you in class, girl!" she heard him shout after her, the sound fading out as she spun into time and space once more.

Xxxx

She fell into her chair with an audible smack, her arse cheeks smarting with pain, once again staring up into the eyes of Professor Snape.

Blushing fiercely, she panicked, as she discovered she was still naked, her thighs still streaked with his drying semen.

"Accio clothes!" she shouted, resulting in her clothing landing in a balled heap in her lap. Pulling her robe around her, she scrambled to dress herself without him seeing more of her skin than necessary.

From the corner of her eye, she could see his lips twitch, like he wanted to laugh. Bastard, she thought, and she scowled as she saw him discreetly peeking into the opening of her robe.

When she had dressed herself, he handed her a small vial, a pink potion inside, with swirling, darker colours mixed into it. She took it, still avoiding his gaze, and her voice came out as a croak when she asked: "What's this, sir?"

His voice was deeper than his younger counterpart, and much more self-assured and calm. "A potion to ensure there are no … unwanted ... results."

A Contraceptive Potion. Of course he would make something like this, knowing what would happen. She felt herself flush, again, but snatched the vial from his hands, downing it quickly.

"Can I go, sir?"

At that, she heard him actually chuckle. Strange, she had never heard Snape laugh in all those years. "You may, Miss Granger. I think you've done enough to deserve the rest of your evening off."

Giving him a mortified look, she fled the classroom, slamming the door behind her.