You didn't honestly think I'd end it there, did you!? Of course I wouldn't! I mean - it's me! Snape + Laurielove = inevitable sex scene.

Now, this IS the last chapter. Hence the name 'epilogue'. But, hey, you deserve a treat, so it's a long one.

In addition to the inevitable, it also has a touch of humour. I quite like combining sex with humour. I find it can be touchingly human and sweetly erotic. I hope and feel that's the case here. As we've had so many glimpses into everyone else's mind, I thought we'd have a look into Severus'. It's entirely his POV, but his distinct thoughts are highlighted in italics.

So, it leaves me simply to extend the usual invitation to join me on my facebook page (Laurielove) and keep up with news there. I've loved sharing this one with you. Oh, and, at the end, see if you can make my heart beat fast and exceed the number of reviews for the previous chapter! (There were a fair few ... thank you!) Either that or go and buy one of my original Demelza Hart stories. Or how about both? Mwa ha ha! There's no escape!

Yes, I'm desperate, but I know you can take it. Love you all lots. Now, over to Severus. LL xxx

Severus didn't sleep much that night. He tried not to dwell too much on the reasons why, but unfortunately his mind gave him no option.

He lay there in the cool darkness of his dungeon chamber, the images and feelings of the Granger girl's fantasy played out over and over again.

It had stopped, the fantasy, when Flitwick's speech had come to an end, but Severus' mind seemed now to insist on continuing it.

He tossed and turned, trying to shake the ideas from his head. It was futile. Merlin, let the night pass swiftly. At least the morning would bring cold, clear-headed respite.

However, the morning would also bring Advanced Potions. He was setting them Wolfsbane. There would be about eight students present.

And one of them would be Miss Granger.

-xoOox-

He didn't look up when the students entered, determined to at least feign disinterest. He heard her first; her voice was immediately recognisable, lilting with intelligent authority above everyone else's. Damn it, why did she have to be so bloody clever? It made it so annoyingly hard to be dismissive of her.

Someone approached the desk and placed a small wrapped package on it.

"For you, sir, just a token to say thank you for all the years of excellent teaching."

It was Potter. She would be close by. He daren't look up.

"Sir?" tried Potter again. "Severus?"

Oh, bloody hell, he'd have to acknowledge him; it was, after all, a rather touching gesture.

He raised his eyes, trying to keep his hair over most of his features. There she was, over Potter's left shoulder. Her hair was curling chaotically again, just as he was used to. Her lips were dark. Were her lips always that dark?

He reached for the present. "Thank you, Potter. Very thoughtful."

"Oh, it's from Hermione too. After all, you're rather special to us both."

He looked at her. She met his eyes and her cheeks reddened. She dropped her gaze.

'Thnkoo muzgrasher.'

Bloody hell! Articulate, man! He couldn't even bring himself to say her name properly out loud.

She cleared her throat and retreated to her desk, choosing one at the far back. Probably wise. But then, that's where she'd been in the fantasy. Exactly there.

His lower abdomen was warm and tingling. Oh, damn it to hell, no. Concentrate, Snape, concentrate.

He focused on Wolfsbane, grateful for the complicated recipe and process involved. In all honesty, all these students were easily competent enough to master it, but in order to distract himself from the girl at the back, Severus went about each cauldron, commenting disparagingly on the efforts of the students and hurling his usual caustic criticism. It was his default setting and, at the moment, he needed the comfort of the familiar.

He avoided her. She would cope perfectly well. She needed little help. But after doing the rounds of every other student three times, he thought perhaps, for the sake of a semblance of balance, he should at least glance over her efforts.

He went closer. She was peering intently into her cauldron. A little too intently, it seemed, as if she was trying to distract herself from any other thoughts. As he got closer an aroma wound its way into him – floral, yet heady. Her. Oh, Merlin, it was so very good.

He coughed tersely and studied her potion. It looked exemplary. What the hell should he say? Think of something, man, anything. Criticise something!

"Consistency is good. Colour appropriate. A satisfactory job, Miss Granger."

Not that! Anything but that, you utter imbecile!

It was too late. Her eyes darted to his.

He had spoken the exact words she'd imagined in her fantasy.

'Excuse me, Professor?' she asked, those deep brown – and completely stunning – eyes wide with surprise.

"Umm … it's … fine … carry on … sort of … yes … not bad … ish …"

Oh, stop looking at me, woman!

But she didn't. She carried on looking right into him, as if searching his eyes.

"Am I … doing alright, sir?" Her voice was strangely gentle and curious, almost intimate.

"Yes, yes … fine, yes … just … get on with it … after all, your conscientious hard work will eventually pay off.'

NO! You fool! You've done it again!

He'd said something similar in the fantasy.

"Goodness. That sounds almost like a compliment, Professor Snape."

He stood, frozen, looking into her. She was smiling at him. Don't smile. She looked so irresistibly beautiful when she smiled. All those imaginings of her friends, all those wishes, the way she looked through their eyes – that wasn't an exaggeration of desire: it was fact. She was the most beautiful thing he could imagine – it was so obvious now. That warm tingling in his belly was almost unbearable and threatened to become something more than merely a warm tingling.

"I've enjoyed my lessons with you, sir."

Had she? That was news to him.

"Really, Miss Granger? I find that hard to believe." Gods, he sounded almost flirtatious. And he was smirking. He felt it. He was smirking down at her. Her mouth curled up at him. His belly did a strange somersaulty thing. Oh, Merlin!

He was grateful for the voluminous secrecy of his robes as he could feel stirrings below which were best left for the most private places.

"Your teaching has been very thorough and your expertise quite remarkable." She stepped into him. She really did. She was so close now that if he just lifted a hand he could …

There was a bang behind them. He spun around instinctively. Buggeration! Longbottom's cauldron had spewed its contents five feet into the air. But then, why break the habit of a lifetime?

He had no option but to deal with it. He cursed the man for distracting him. He had to abandon her.

The lesson continued. He found himself lingering closer to Miss Granger, and enjoyed the chance to drop further compliments her way. She kept looking at him. She kept giving him little smiles. They made him feel so incredibly good, it almost hurt.

The lesson came to an end. His last Potions lesson with them. The end of an era. The students gave him a round of applause and their appreciation was genuine and palpable. He managed to smile and even thank them.

But he was distracted. He didn't want her to go.

One by one, the students came up to shake his hand. She was the last after Potter.

"Thank you, sir … Severus … for everything," she said.

He had to grip onto his desk with his other hand. He held hers for dear life; he couldn't let it go.

"Miss Granger …"

"Yes?"

Oh, gods, he couldn't help himself.

"Your skills have been … quite exceptional."

"Thank you, sir." There was that delicious blush again.

"I would like to …"

"Yes?"

Oh, sweet Merlin, don't do it! Don't! Bloody don't!

"I would like to … show you a … skill … an advanced technique which I believe will be most beneficial to you."

Too late. Done.

"Now, sir?"

"Yes, now."

She was staring at him. Now more than ever he was grateful for the concealing quality of his robes.

She turned to Harry. "I won't be long. I just have something to sort out."

Potter seemed a little bemused and lingered. Oh, just bugger off, Potter, will you?

"OK. I'll see you in the Common Room."

At last the boy left. With a subtle flick of his hand, Severus made the door close silently and surreptitiously behind him.

This was it. The fantasy. Alone in his classroom.

She was there, right in front of him.

"Professor …"

She didn't have to call him that, but he rather liked it when she did.

"What?"

Bugger – did that sound too snappy?

"I'm going to miss you when I leave."

"Hmngghh." Was that a word? He suspected not, but it was all he could manage.

"Sir … What you said earlier …"

"What did I say?"

"About the colour and consistency … and about me being … conscientious …"

"What about it?"

"Yesterday, in the hall, during Professor Flitwick's speech …"

Oh, fucking hell, she knew!

"I … felt a … I sensed that … well … how can I say?"

"Just say it, Miss Granger."

"Were you reading my thoughts, sir?"

Oh, shit, she did just say it!

Now it was his turn to go red.

"I was … bored, Miss Granger."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Po – ssi – bly – not." Why couldn't he just get his words out normally like every other bloody human being instead of dragging each syllable out to the enth degree?

He thought she'd run. He thought she'd hit him. She was entitled to.

She didn't. She stood there, in fact, she stepped closer, definitely. That wonderful perfume was stronger again.

"You were, weren't you?" she reiterated.

"Technically … yes." What was he going on about? There was nothing technical about it. He just was.

She didn't seem in the least bit surprised or upset. In fact, she had moved closer again. "I thought you were. That's a bit naughty, isn't it?"

He chose not to answer, but his legs seemed to have taken him closer to her. She was still looking at him and she was still smirking. There was no question of that. And the way she said 'naughty' made him feel so completely wonderful he wanted it to go on and on.

"I can be naughty when I so choose, Miss Granger." Oh, he was proud of that.

"So can I … as I think you may well know." You naughty, gorgeous, sexy little vixen. "The question is … who's going to be naughty first?"

He answered her instantly. Doubt and uncertainty were banished. Severus took her head in his hands, stroked along those beautiful high cheeks for a moment with his thumbs, registered the look of unfettered want in her eyes, and kissed her.

Although he wasn't really kissing her, he was melting into her. All his longings, all his frustrations and dreams and hopes and desires were poured into this divine woman, and she took. Her mouth opened and she was his. He slipped his tongue inside, hungry and searching, and found hers.

Oh, Hermione …

For a time he simply luxuriated in the heady joy of the kiss. She kissed him back so completely openly and honestly he feared he may weep. When her hands dragged up his arms to hold his head down to her, he groaned against her suppliant mouth.

Oh, perfect life …

When at last she drew back for air, he kissed down her neck, inhaling her scent, imbuing her texture.

"Sir …" she murmured, seeking more. His groin was on fire, surely?

He had endured several years of self-imposed abstinence in his duplicitous work for the Dark Lord. In that time his desires and fantasies had been buried, but now, all those years of frustration were banished. She was here and she was his. He spun her around, more forcefully than he'd intended, but, judging on her delirious gasp, not against her wishes.

Severus pulled her back against him, just as he had seen in her mind, and ran his hands up over the thin material of her shirt to cup her breasts – those perfect, lush round breasts – and bury his head (after manoeuvring his way through her mass of hair) once again in the aromatic warmth of her neck.

"Severus … I've wanted this for so long …"

Just like in her fantasy.

One hand dropped, instinctively, inevitably, and started to work its way up her leg, her long, firm, perfect Hermione leg. Her little sighs and moans only encouraged him. And it was roughly here that the fantasy had abruptly ended.

He half expected it to now.

It didn't. His fingers continued up until they came to that most secret, warm, sacred place, hidden tantalisingly from him by her tights and underwear, but still very much there. Instinct was not forgotten. He grazed over it and she pressed down, encouraging him. It worked; he rubbed harder while the fingers of his other hand found the nipple through the thin material of her bra and flicked.

"Ohh …" she moaned. It was the most fantastic sound he'd ever heard. He wanted her to do it again. When he managed to undo her shirt and slip a hand under her bra and squeeze a nipple, she did.

"Ohh, good God, yes! More, please, more!" she pleaded. "Want you, want you so much … please, please …"

Oh, Merlin! Was this happening? Was this actually really happening?

Her hands reached behind her and nudged against his rock hard erection. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through him.

Yes. Apparently it was.

It was Hermione who turned around and pressed her lithe body against him. She looked up with a brazen smile and pushed his robes back from his shoulders so that they fell in a dark pool onto the floor. Oh, ye gods and little fishes, she'd better get on with it. He wouldn't last long at this rate.

"Professor Snape … I have longed to do this. Buttons, buttons, everywhere …" Biting her lip coyly, she duly set about undoing those buttons.

Each one was undone with ardent concentration, as if she was notching up her desire with almost masochistic languor. It took a while, but it steadied his feverish lust and kept his enormous hard-on in check for a time.

When at last she'd finished, she pushed his coat back and revealed the white shirt underneath. Luckily, this one didn't have so many buttons.

Was he surprised at her confidence? Perhaps, but it helped his own. He gripped her firmly in his arms and cocked an eyebrow, his mouth set straight. "Miss Granger … things seem to be getting a little unbalanced on the clothing front. As I always say when brewing – ensure you keep things balanced."

He brought his hands to her tie and tugged it loose, inspecting it before tossing it dismissively onto his desk. Then he moved onto her shirt and made much faster work of her buttons. She was soon standing before him with only her bra covering her top half.

It had been a while since he'd unhitched a bra. A moment's panic flared – could he still do it?

But he didn't hesitate and, holding her eyes, he brought his hands round to the clasp.

Yes, apparently he could still do it.

But his pride in his achievement was short-lived, replaced by sheer unadulterated lust as her naked breasts were revealed. They were breasts of perfection. He wanted to tell her but instead he simply dropped his head and took a nipple in his mouth. Her groan seemed to signal her approval. He sucked hard, relishing the tightening of that gorgeous little bud in his mouth.

He was sucking on Hermione Granger's tit. Best not to think too hard about it.

He occupied his mind elsewhere by pushing down her skirt, quickly followed by her tights and knickers. She, meanwhile, was busy ridding him of his clothes.

There was no shame, no embarrassment; it was as if they had been working towards this moment for an age.

It was only when she was about to remove his underwear that he tensed. He had no reason to be ashamed of his size, he knew that – previous partners had expressed their appreciation in wide-eyed speechlessness – but with her … the only erection of his she'd previously had to deal with was the pile of textbooks he'd asked her to stack in the Fourth Year after she'd answered back in class.

Still, with a look of complete acceptance and expectation, she pushed down his pants and there it was. No more secrets, no more masking, no more concealment. He was before her. His breath came fast, almost painful in his desperation.

But when she looked up and smiled, he relaxed completely.

Hermione enfolded her arms about him and moved with him back to lie upon the table. He was between her legs. It was going to happen no matter what. There was no way it could not happen.

She was still holding him, guiding him closer, pulling him down to her.

"Now, Severus, please … I've wanted you so much," she implored, softly, just for him.

"Hermione …" – he'd said her name out loud – "for you – anything."

And he pushed into her.

Oh, pure fucking pleasure! She felt glorious. He wanted to think about beauty and radiance and fate and the perfect moment, but all he could think was – Fuck! My cock feels incredible inside her pussy!

For, Severus Snape was, after all, a man.

Hermione moaned, a raw moan from deep in her chest. Her eyes closed and her neck craned. And then she clenched down on him and urged him deeper. He pushed through and – Oh gods! Yes! Again! – so he did, deeper, deeper, until he could go no further and he was impaled on her.

He glanced down. She was staring up at him, a faint smile on her face.

"Hard," she whispered. (Ever the intellectual, Severus wasn't sure if she meant it as an adjective in the indicative, as in 'your cock is hard' or an adverb in the imperative, as in 'fuck me hard'. He opted for both, taking the former compliment and setting about fulfilling the latter.)

Pulling back, he was almost blinded by pleasure. His insides leapt with sheer physical ecstasy. He let out a groan of his own which prompted her to clench yet harder on him. Oh fuck! Concentrate, man. Never do anything prematurely.

But she had asked and he would comply. He thrust back in, hard, and her back buckled. She grinned with delight. He pulled out, then powered into her again.

"Again," she said. He did.

"Again."

Soon enough they built up a rhythm, synchronised and attuned. He reached across and found that sweet nub of flesh tucked away just above his pistoning cock. He stroked it and she mewled. Oh, he liked that sound. He kept it up and she kept on mewling.

"Yes, yes, yes, so close, so close."

"Come, come, come, Hermione …" He wanted to see her and hear her and feel her. He wanted to empty himself in her as she was coming apart around him.

After only two more strokes, he felt it. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open and she wailed – a long shrill wail of wonder. She was spasming on him so hard he would release cataclysmically. He came so completely that he had to throw down a hand onto the table to brace. Pleasure tore its way through him and voiced itself in a raw moan, as deep and throbbing as his voice.

It seemed to go on – the most profound orgasm he could remember. He was filling her, there was no other way to put it. Filling her with his seed, with his adoration and with his devotion.

Afterwards, he slumped onto her, utterly spent. Her slender arm fell across his back and she held him there. They didn't speak.

Severus wasn't sure how much time had passed – time seemed irrelevant. It could stop now as far as he was concerned.

"Ow," she eventually murmured.

He looked up. "Are you alright?"

"The table's a little hard."

He pushed off her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise." She raised herself up. He slipped from her but she took his head in her hands and kissed him. "Don't ever apologise. You have nothing to apologise for."

"Oh, but I do really. I can be, for want a better word, a complete bastard."

She smiled. "You weren't then."

"Was it …?" He didn't finish. He shouldn't have asked but something compelled him to.

"Incredible. The most incredible, Severus."

He rested his forehead on hers. "It's not allowed, of course. Teachers and students. If anyone found out, there would be … repercussions."

"Well, it's a good thing nobody is going to find out then. And besides, I'll be finishing here next week. And I'm nearly twenty. And I've fought in a war. And I've been tortured. I think I'm allowed to choose who I have sex with."

He smiled at her in wonder. "You're amazing. They all adore you. All of them."

She gave a little frown. "What do you mean?"

"They were all thinking about you yesterday, in the Hall during Flitwick's speech."

Hermione tutted with teasing reproachfulness. "Were you reading their minds too? You're even naughtier than I realised, Professor Snape!"

"I told you – I was bored. But they all adore you and most of them want you – Weasley, Longbottom, Mal –"

She put up a hand. "Stop! Too much information!"

"I apologise. But, come to think of it, I am finding it a little … unsettling. I probably won't see very many of them again. It's a curious thing, after all this time."

Her eyes grew distant. "I know. But I'm ready. I've done my time here. It's time to move on. Strange though … the ending."

Severus drew her in again and searched her eyes. Just before kissing her, he declared, more sincere than ever, "Oh no, Miss Granger, for once you are wrong. As far as you and I are concerned … it's just beginning."

Oh, he's so good. Don't you think? ;-)

LL x