Thank you all so much for your support and reviews! This is the third and FINAL instalment of "Rosemerta", so I hope you enjoy it! Also, I just have to express my excitement and gratitude that someone has nominated two of my fics, "Shampoo," and "Hallucination," for the Livejournal HP Fanfic Poll Awards! Thank you so much to whoever nominated me! I couldn't be more flattered!

Anyway, without further ado, here's the last chapter! I hope you like it!

...*~*J*~*...

Darkness met her eyes when Hermione Granger woke in the middle of the night. For a long moment, she thought nothing of it. But there is something inherently startling about waking in an unfamiliar place. She could see nothing, but the darkness was strange and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was not where she ought to be.

Her body gave a jolt when she remembered. How had she managed to fall asleep? And then, behind her, something moved. The deep voice of a man sighed into the darkness, and the sheets rustled as he stretched out his limbs. Cold dread blossomed in the cavity of her chest, reaching out with icy fingers to fill her body with primal fear. Her professor was still in the bed. And she was no longer Rosemerta.

Her mind sought a plan; an escape route. If he saw her in the light, it would all be over. Her movement had woken him up, so she would have to wait for him to fall back to sleep. And then what? Maybe she could slip out of bed slowly enough that he would not feel her move. But that was not likely. The man was a practised spy. He probably slept with one eye open. How the hell was she going to escape?

Suddenly, a long, wiry arm draped itself across her body, and Hermione tensed. If he reached for her breasts, he would know straight away. Panic searing her insides, the slender witch drew her arm tight against her chest, locking that secret between her and the sheets. Her professor curled up behind her, moulding his arm to hers as his hot breath tickled the back of her neck. He yawned, idly rubbing a rough hand up and down her arm before letting it slip down between her legs. "Mmmmm," he growled. Hermione fought the instinct to push him away. The last thing she needed was a confrontation.

Professor Snape started pressing against her backside, his hard cock slipping between her legs. He fumbled to position himself, without so much as a 'by-your-leave,' and began to push inside. Hermione gasped. The sudden pain was so at odds with all of her previous experiences with the man that she nearly cried out into the night. But she bit her lip, praying he would attribute the obvious impediment to the strangeness of their position.

When he thrust eagerly through the barrier of her virginity, Hermione bit through the tender flesh of her lip as tears sprung to her eyes. The pain was like nothing she'd ever felt before, despite the extant lubrication which the student in her knew to be an aid. "Oh fuck!" her professor cried, thrusting against her from behind. All she could feel was the sharp pain of his penetration and a duller ache deep inside her as he slammed against her body. "Gods you're tight," he remarked.

Professor Snape pushed her over into the sheets, thrusting into her from above. His breath stirred the hair at the nape of her neck as his arms reached beneath her to lift her arse for better access. The position made her writhe beneath him, struggling against a pleasant pressure that was begging for release, even as she tried to keep her mind on the task at hand. She needed to devise a plan before he found out who she was, but how could she pay attention with such intensity hammering through her slender frame. Perhaps her own body was more sensitive than Rosemerta's. Maybe it was the lack of experience. But whatever it was, she was losing her mind to the overwhelming sensation of her professor's hard cock as he fucked her atop the bed. And every grunt and groan was proof that he didn't just like Rosemerta's body. He was enjoying hers!

Hermione cried out with wanton abandon, desperate to make the pleasure stop. It was too much for her to handle, though she loved it just the same. "Please!" she cried as he hammered into her. "Please, please," only she didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she wanted except some release from this pleasurable pain. Her professor leaned over her, kissing the back of her neck, and the position drove his cock against a tender place inside her. She cried out, screaming with intense pleasure as he stuffed one hand beneath her chest. Then he was coming, too. He growled into the night, squeezing her tiny breast as he pulled out of her body. His seed sprayed across her back in hot rivulets of sticky warmth and a light filled the room as he wrenched her over onto her back. And Hermione looked up into her professor's angry eyes with absolute petrifying fear.

His fury warred with disbelief and Hermione thought she might die. How had she been so foolish? How could she have fallen asleep? Now what was to become of her? He would murder her for sure! For a long moment, they only stared at one another. Then, Hermione dared to speak first. "I'm sorry," she began, but she hardly had the words out before the back of his hand collided with her face, and suddenly she was looking at the lamp beside the bed.

"How did you get here?" he demanded.

"I..."

"What are you doing here? Have you been here the entire time?!" Horror seemed to dawn on him little by little as the implications of it all crashed over him. "Oh Gods," he whispered, withdrawing from her and staring down at the bed. Hermione hurried to cover herself, embarrassment thrumming across her skin. But she was not quick enough. "You're bleeding," he gasped, ripping the sheets from her hands. Hermione scrambled back on the bed as her professor bent to look for a wound, belatedly realising exactly what he had done. The look of horror on his face made her cringe with abject fear. She was disgusted with herself in the light of his revelation. How could she have taken advantage of him in such a way?

Professor Snape tore away from her, wrapping the bloody sheet about his frame and stumbling toward the window to lean against the glass. Anything to be away from her, it seemed. Maybe she could run for it; just slip out of bed and run for the cellar before he had a chance to see where she'd gone. But there was no chance of that. Her clothing were gone, anyway, and he was a practised spy. He would certainly know the moment she slipped out of bed, and he would stop her if she tried anything funny.

Hermione watched as her professor's fist banged against the window, clenching and unclenching angrily until suddenly it stopped. His frame grew rigid and she held her breath as the Head of Slytherin House turned to face her. "You did this," he said, pointing one long, dexterous finger at her. He seemed to take comfort in her guilt. "This is your fault!" The light of derangement glistened in his eyes, and for the first time Hermione was afraid. This man could hurt her—might hurt her—and she would probably deserve it.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," she said again. Would it be best to tell him the truth, or a lie? And which truth was that? The truth that she had needed the answer to a secret (thereby ruining their chances of ever discovering such) or the truth that she had wanted him? If he thought that she had only succumbed to his desires to save face, he would hate her all the more. No, perhaps her best course of action was to flatter him, to make him believe she had wanted his body, as well. It was true, after all. "Please, Professor," she pleaded, stalling for time. She had to choose, but there was great risk in the game. What if she chose wrong? "I know it was wrong," she told him. "I just... couldn't help myself."

Her professor was frozen where he stood, the bloody sheets draped around him like some wounded Roman god. He made no response, so she began to speak again, hoping that something she said might dissuade him of her ulterior motives. "I wanted you."

He was silent a long minute, frozen in judgement over her, before speaking at long last. "Why?"

Hermione was not sure how to respond. "You..."

"I mean..." he began again, waving away her words, "why did you pose as Rosemerta?"

She gulped. "I knew she was involved with you..."

Malice twisted the cold man's face. "You couldn't have known that."

Her chin lifted in defiance. "Obviously, I did... sir."

"You couldn't have known that before," he amended, stepping toward her.

She swallowed anxiously, but they seemed to be making progress. "I wanted you," she repeated, noting the way he seemed to want to believe it.

But Severus Snape was no fool. "You were spying on me," he decided.

"No!"

"You had to have been spying on me to notice anything between myself and that witch, so you must have become her in order to more effectively spy on me."

"What reason would I have to spy on you, if not for the reason I've given, myself?"

Her professor moved toward her at that, coming to the edge of the bed and leaning over her as if to intimidate. "You and your friends think I'm a Death Eater."

"You are a Death Eater," she argued. "Why would Rosemerta know better than Albus Dumbledore? It's already clear the two of you have no true romantic bond."

"You are naive. Perhaps you thought you could get me drunk; make me confess."

"I am no fool, either," she argued. "And besides, I believe you." The admission was so heartfelt that their eyes met in surprise. She was as shocked to hear herself say it as he was.

"Is that so?" He sneered. "You believed in me so deeply that you felt the need to fuck me, is that it?!" Hermione bit back the instinctive protest, remembering that that had been her argument. She hung her head. "My, my, how... un-Gryffindor of you." His smirk was full of twisting malice and she wondered how a man who harboured so much passion could feel so much hate. Perhaps they were one and the same. Then, he stepped around to the side of the bed, thrusting a hand into her hair and turning her face to look up at him. "Do I look like a fool, Miss Granger?" Hermione tried to shake her head, but it was steady in his painful grip. "This is your last chance to tell me the truth before I resort to more... drastic... measures. Why were you spying? Why did you disguise yourself as that barmaid slut?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide at that and she struggled for something to say. Only, it was so difficult to fabricate a new lie with those piercing black eyes staring so intently into hers. Images of their planning came unbidden to her mind, flitting past like a summary of their scheme. It wasn't until he released her hair and smirked that she realised what he'd done. "Is that it?" He almost seemed to laugh. "You let your Potions Master fuck you so that you might learn what it is the Dark Lord seeks?" Her professor clucked teasingly at her, but she sensed that behind those dark black eyes he despised himself as much as he hated her.

"No," she told him, lifting her chin. "I became Rosemerta to discover that secret..." she hesitated, bracing herself with clenched fingers in the sheets. "But I came up here because I wanted you to..." she could not seem to say it aloud, but her meaning was clear.

The professor glared down at her, his lips parting in shock at her words, and he made as if to reach for her, to punish her in some way, but he hesitated. Hermione took the opportunity to drop the sheets she held, letting them slide down her bare breasts to puddle at her waist. She had nothing left to lose, after all. Was she a Gryffindor, or wasn't she?

His eyes flickered down to her chest at that, lingering a long moment before he turned away. "I am your professor, Miss Granger. You should never have acted on these... feelings... toward me."

"I didn't mean to," she admitted, wondering why on earth she was behaving in this brazen manner. "I couldn't help myself." She let out a long sigh. "I wanted you."

When her professor turned back toward her, it was with venom in his voice. "I expected better from you, Granger! You are not the over-sexed harlot that most of your classmates are! Why would you choose to sink so low?"

Hermione was incensed. "You're one to talk!" she shouted, rolling onto her feet beside him and pointing up into his stricken face. "You're brilliant and talented and brave, but that doesn't keep you from carrying on an emotionless sexual relationship with a woman you yourself called a slut. How can you lecture me about giving in to the temptation of sex with the one man I admire when I was already under pressure to keep my cover and that magical voice of yours was coaxing me into compliance?!"

He was silent a moment, panting as he gawked at her in surprise. "I'm only a man, Miss Granger. A man has needs."

"And I'm only a... woman."

He snorted at that. "Girl," he amended.

"Woman," she argued in a stern voice. "If you'll recall the night before, I would certainly be hesitant to attribute that behaviour to a girl."

His eyes unfocused at that, staring past her at his memories of their night together. Then he cringed in disgust and turned away from her. A sudden cool draft reminded Hermione of her nakedness, and she reached for him. Latching onto his elbow, she turned him to face her again. "Please, Professor," she pleaded. He met her eyes, the hesitant desire to listen to her conveyed in the sadness she saw. She changed tactics, letting her hand slide down his arm to grasp his hand as her eyes swept down his body, drawing his to her naked breasts. She sensed the moment that he noticed, for his posture grew stiff, and he stopped breathing. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted his hand, meeting his eyes as she brought it to the firm roundness of her breast. It was smaller than Rosemerta's, but he seemed to like it all the same, if his parted lips and heavy breathing were any indication.

"No," he told her sternly, pulling his hand away and turning his head. "You are my student. You are too young."

"We've already done the damage," she argued. "Please. I want you." Hearing those words seemed to have a strong impact on her lonely professor and Hermione knew that this was what she needed to do. "Please," she moaned, "I need you." He met her eyes, wanting to believe her, wanting to give in to her demands. She could feel it.

"It's wrong," he told her in a weaker voice.

"No it's not," she answered. "Who says?" She caught his hand again, bringing it back up to her breast and sighing when their skin connected once again. "I want you and you want me. That's enough, isn't it?"

He moaned and she felt his fingers gently plying her soft flesh. She gasped and let her hand fall away, allowing him to touch her on his own. To her immense satisfaction, he did not remove it, but continued to fondle her, rubbing the rough part of his thumb over her nipple. She knew it the moment he reconsidered, and she took the opportunity to step toward him, meeting his skin with her own. He gasped with pleasure, his cock rising hard against her belly as his hands came to rest upon her waist. She reached her hands behind his neck and pulled him down until their mouths connected and he moaned.

Hermione's heart was beating so hard in her chest that she thought it might burst. She didn't know where she'd found all this courage, but damned if it mattered right now. Her professor was kissing her, touching her... the real her this time, not Rosemerta. And Hermione had never felt more divinely out of control. She nipped at his lip, begging him to open them, and slipped her tongue inside. That must have been the turning point for the older man. Having her take charge seemed to have given him permission, somehow, as if he had no choice but to succumb. He reached down to her arse, cupping her cheeks in his hands and pulling her hard up against him as his mouth opened against her own. His tongue plunged past her teeth and she moaned, desperate for more of his touch. It was exhilarating, this feeling of powerlessness and power all at once. It was not that she was in control, nor that she couldn't keep it all from happening, but that they were both swept up in something greater than themselves, and neither wanted to stop it from unfolding all around them.

Suddenly, Hermione was falling backwards. She let out a squeal as she landed against the mattress, limbs flailing wildly as her professor laughed down at her. The sheet that had been veiling his body had long since fallen to the floor, and there he stood, staring at her with such intensity and want. It was different than it had been, and left her mouth dry and her heart hammering in her chest. He had never looked at Rosemerta as he was looking at her now.

She beckoned to him, and he immediately complied, covering her tiny frame as he pulled her farther onto the bed between kisses that sipped at the tenderness of her mouth. He took his time, cradling her head as he brushed his lips across her desperate flesh. He sucked at her throat like a starving man at a feast and cupped her breast in a gentle palm.

Hermione squirmed beneath him, impatient with his tenderness, begging for the passion that she'd been shown before. He rubbed his cock between her legs, teasing her deliberately as he smirked against her mouth. She arched her back against him, moaning and dragging her fingers through his hair. If he would not give her what she wanted, she was going to make her impatience known. Unfortunately, pulling his hair only seemed to excite him and give him the urge to retaliate. He bit her bottom lip, laughing into her mouth as she whined and wrapped her legs around his waist. He growled and bucked against her then, not immune to the seduction of her curves. "Please," she begged him, breaking away from his mouth to arch against him, offering herself in no uncertain terms. She met his eyes through a haze of desire and slowly licked her lips. "Please," she pleaded once more, stretching her arms out in abandon to his touch. "Severus."

He gasped at the sound of his name on her voice, his eyes growing very wide. For a moment, she was sure he'd pull away and reprimand her. Fortunately, her daring move had the opposite effect. Eagerly, he thrust inside her, filling her body with his aching cock as he bent his head to capture her lips again. They moaned together as he began to move, slowly, desperately teasing the fire they had built between them. When he pulled away from her, it was only to slam back in again.

Hermione thought she might go mad as her body begged for release and his slow, deliberate movements denied her with every thrust. He knew what he was doing to her, too. She could see it in those glinting, mischievous eyes. "Ohhhh," she moaned, desperation causing her to claw along his back. "Please..." she had no choice but to meet his every movement with an eager thrust of her own. "Severus..."

That seemed to have the desired effect. He growled and pressed against her more urgently, clearly restraining himself against his own instincts. Abruptly, Hermione understood. He was trying to be gentle with her. Perhaps he just didn't understand that what she wanted was exactly what he was so afraid to give. She pushed at him and his eyes met hers with uncertainty and hurt, but he pulled away. Before he could leave the bed, however, she grabbed his arm and threw him onto his back climbing on top of him and pushing him inside. Finally, she was in control. Finally, she was able to abandon herself in the flurry of movement and sensation as she straddled him, bucking against his bony body and riding her pleasure home.

Severus Snape growled low in his throat at that and gripped the girl's hips as she rocked frantically against him. Pulling her down to kiss his mouth, the man began to thrust up into her aching body, hitting her right where she needed it most. She cried into his mouth, slamming a palm against his chest over and over as the pleasure mounted to a crest. When she came, she stared into his eyes, communicating her devotion. He responded by wrapping his hands in her curly hair, bringing her mouth to his and rolling them over to grind hard against her a few more times before he came with a ragged moan.

Several long minutes passed as the two unlikely lovers cradled one another. Her professor's hands were still buried in her hair, and his hot breath was fanning across her collarbone in waves of heat. Somehow, instinctively, she knew she had to do something before he started to regret this. That something turned out to be wrapping her fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp before leaning up to place a kiss against his brow. But this seemed to bring the man back to reality, and when he met her eyes, his own were full of horror at what he'd done. "Shhh," she told him, as he pulled away from her. "It's alright." He hesitated, and she took the chance to reach a hand up to his face, cradling it in her palm. "Stay. Please. The world can wait. Right now, it doesn't matter." His eyes switched between her two and she knew that he wanted to believe her. Smiling, she reached a hand into his hair and pulled him down so she could kiss him. It was tender, tentative, and sweet. But he reciprocated, settling down with his arms braced on either side of her. Slowly, softly, he began to kiss her back.

Later, they would worry about Rosemerta. They would deal with Ron and Harry. They would return to student and teacher. The War would go on and the world would change, hopefully for the better. But right now, it all could wait. They were just two people connecting with each other in a world of discord and hate. And the feelings between them were anything but.

Hermione thought back to the moment she realised, for the first time, that Snape was a sexual being. It came as even more of a surprise to learn that he was a loving one.

...*~*J*~*...

That's the end! I hope you enjoyed it!

If you did, please take a moment to let me know. Every little email in my inbox stamped with the heading "Review" makes my little heart flutter like a glimpse of the Potions Master would.

Even your criticism is always welcome and appreciated.

Thank you so much for reading my story!

LOVE

:} llorolalluvia