Hermione arrives by portkey to St Mark's Square in Venice with Severus. She arrives in style, wearing elegant grey witch's robes and high dragon hide boots. Her robes are modest, and scholarly- with a high flared collar and narrow v-neck, long fitted sleeves. She wears a pair of simple black diamond studs in her ears and a black diamond solitaire tight against her throat. They are spelled with translation charms, and are a gift from Severus. While her robes are a nod to Wizarding tradition, her hair is cut short in a modern muggle style that accentuates her long, graceful neck.

Hermione, surrounded by the sights of picturesque, historical Venice, has eyes only for her lover. Snape is back in black robes, and it is a startling slight to Hermione. She aches acutely for jeans and punk rock t shirt Severus. What she has, at the moment, is Potions Master Snape. But when he looks at her, his hard eyes soften a bit around the edges, and her heart stills in her chest. It's still him.

Severus turns to look at Hermione the moment they arrive in St Mark's Square. She is already looking at him, her eyes wide and solemn. He wonders how she is handling seeing her potions professor again. He still hasn't gotten used to her new look, although he encouraged it. He doesn't know if he prefers it, if he is being honest with himself. He likes this girl with her wild curly hair and sexy muggle clothes. He likes thumbing the button of her jeans suggestively, waiting for her to say 'yes.'

But this Hermione, with her elegant witch's robes and modern muggle hair, sparkling black jewels and a serious expression on her face- he can only think of one word to describe this Hermione. Powerful.

He reaches his hand toward hers, but doesn't take hold of it. He holds his out and and waits for her. She smiles at him then, and slides her small hand into his, moves to stand in front of him and tips her face up to his. Kiss me, Severus, she seems to be saying.

Slowly, just in case he has misread her desire, he lowers his lips to hers. Her posture, so stiff and proud, softens when he takes her in his arms.

They are in a public square, surrounded by tourists and pigeons and other magical folk going about their business, so he doesn't kiss her the way he would like. His kiss is firm, but chaste, and he releases her after the span of a few quick breaths. Still they turn a few heads- her obvious youth and beauty starkly contrasted against his dark, surly countenance. He is only thirty nine, but the majority of his adult life has been spent as a spy or bent over a cauldron. Neither are known for their anti-aging qualities, and Severus knows that his face- which has never been handsome- looks much older than it is.

"Let's go to the jetty," he says to Hermione, leading her in the direction of the water. "The count will have sent a boat for us."

The jetty in front of St Mark's is a riot of activity, with gondolas moored in neat rows between tall red and white striped poles.

"There," says Severus pointing to magnificent antique Cris Craft. "It's flying the Count's colors."

They make their way to the vessel and are helped aboard with much fanfare by the captain. They are seated in the teak and mahogany salon, and offered refreshment before they depart for Murano.

Murano, Severus has explained to Hermione, is an island not far from Venice. It is there where the famous Italian glass is made- by hand as it has been for hundreds of years. Count Spumoni also serves as regent of Magical Murano, and is a very powerful Magical Noble in Venice. Although the muggle republic of Venice has long since fallen, the Magical Republic of Venice is still independent from the Italian Ministry of Magic. Venice is a great center of art, culture, and learning in the Magical World.

The shining Cris Craft whisks them down the grand canal, and across a small protected bay to the isle of Murano. They make their way up a large canal and stop in front of- well, Hermione can think of no other way describe the structure than a palace. A small palace, but a palace nonetheless. It has massive wooden double doors that open over stone steps that disappear into the canal. As the Cris Craft approaches those steps, the doors open inward. Someone has been anticipating their arrival.

They are ushered inside and into a massive entrance hall. At least a hundred witches and wizards mingle about. It is all Hermione can do not to gape openly. At the ornate columns and painted ceiling. At the marble floors. At the witches and wizards dressed in the most ornate robes she has ever seen. Both men and women are powdered and made up. The sight is a visual feast of opulence. Hermione thought her robes were over the top. Now she realizes their style of dress is understated in the extreme.

A perfumed and powdered lackey escorts them through the crowd of courtiers with confident ease. He is obviously important, as the decadently clad mass parts hurriedly for him. The mass gapes openly at Severus and Hermione as they pass, making no effort to hide their curiosity.

The lackey brings them to a smaller, but more ornate set of double doors. He raps on them smartly with a cane and they open silently. Hermione feels the unmistakable brush of magic. A spell. Severus, holding her hand tightly, pulls her into the room.

"Potions Master Severus Tobias Snape," calls the lackey, his voice resonating through both rooms. "And a Miss Hermione Jean Granger, my Lord."

The lackey steps out, and the doors swing quietly closed behind him.

Severus and Hermione are standing in a smaller, but much more opulent receiving room. There are more courtiers scattered about, although their demeanor is different. Hermione can't quite put her finger on the difference, but she can feel it. It is palpable.

Count Spumoni, seated on a dais, is impossible to miss. A fucking dais , thinks Hermione. This is unreal. The Count rises from his gilded ( gilded!) chair, and calls out to them.

"Severus!" he says, stepping down of the dais and motioning for them to approach. "Twenty years of correspondence and I am only now making your acquaintance." Everything about the man is over the top. His starched white hair piled up on his head. His ridiculous brocade robes and plethora of gold and jeweled rings on his fingers. He moves with the obvious dignity of one used to decadence and power despite his massive stomach.

Hermione wonders if they should bow as they approach him, but Severus puts out his hand. There is a collective intake of breath from the onlookers. Apparently he should have bowed.

"My Lord Spumoni," says Severus in his softest, deadliest voice, "The pleasure is all mine."

The Count hesitates for the barest of moments before taking Snape's proffered hand.

Well done, my love. Hermione is cheering him on inside. Severus has defied protocol and presented himself as the Count's equal. Spumoni must want Severus here very badly to endure such a slight.

When the Count lets go of Severus' hand, he turns to Hermione. "May I present Miss Hermione Granger, my protégé."

The Count looks her up and down in a way that makes Hermione harden her expression and stare at the man coldly. She nods to the Count, making no move to take his hand.

"Exquisite," says the Count to Severus, as if she isn't standing right there. "May I kiss her hand?"

"No," replies Severus. "I'm afraid I must insist that her person remain absolutely unmolested while she remains under your roof."

The Count nods respectfully to Severus, as if to men discussing the body autonomy of a woman like she were property is a perfectly sensible thing to do.

"I will personally make sure of it," the Count says pompously. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger. You must be exhausted from your journey. I'll have my housekeeper prepare your private quarters forthwith."

"No need, friend," Severus says smoothly before the Count can lift his finger to summon his manservant. "Miss Granger will be staying with me."

The counts eyebrows go up at this and his expression is salacious. "Your protégé and your lover, Professor Snape? How delightfully uncouth."

Hermione, completely at a loss, looks up at Severus. "You'll get used to him, my dear," he says. Then to the Count, "We are tired from our journey. We will retire, and await your summons."

"Splendid, Splendid," says the Count, summoning his Manservant. "Emilio will show you to your quarters. I trust you will find them adequate to your needs."

"You are most generous, my Lord," replies Severus. "I request the liberty to wander your palace and to come and go freely, for myself and Miss Granger."

"Granted, my friend. I look forward to speaking with you in private once you have settled in."

The exit the receiving room through a side door and are shown into an elevator.

"Your quarters are on the third floor," says Emilio, "East wing. With a private terrace overlooking the canal."

Emilio shows them to the ornate double doors of their new home, and hands Snape a golden skeleton key. "There is a servant's bell in the entryway. Ring any time of the day or night."

"Thank you, Emilio," Snape says, already turning away from him to open the door. Hermione follows Snape inside. She is expecting a riot of revolting opulence, and she is pleasantly surprised. Quite the opposite, their quarters are all understated elegance.

The palace is made of stone, present in graceful archways and around windows and doors. The rest of the walls have been plastered in a tasteful off white. The floor is dark wood, almost black with age. The area rugs in every room are persian wool, in light, neutral colors. The furniture is minimalist and modern. Best of all, every wall is lined floor to ceiling with empty bookshelves.

"What do you think?" Severus asks her. He is a little nervous. This is to be their home for the foreseeable future as long as Hermione wants to continue her studies at the university, He wants- needs- her to like it.

"It's lovely, Severus," she says. "I'm surprised. You must have had some say in this?"

"I was quite specific in my requests, I assure you. The best is here." He leads her through a formal sitting and dining room into a marvelous kitchen. It is full of modern appliances and has a lovely breakfast nook, as well as French doors leading onto the terrace.

"There is a dining table on the terrace, as well," he says. Then, "I need to apologize for insinuating to the count that you are my property, Hermione. It was necessary to prevent him from pursuing you- and he is a lecherous misogynist. I will insist on him treating you like a human instead of a commodity to be bargained for, but it will take time."

Hermione opens the French doors to venture onto the patio. The view of the canal is spectacular. "I found the whole exchange extremely distasteful, Severus. I accept your apology, and thank you for protecting me."

Severus joins her at the stone railing, putting his hand on her back and kissing her temple. "I will always protect you."

Hermione looks up at him. "Show me the bedroom."

The bedroom, and the bed in it, are enormous. Styled the same way as the rest of the house, it is full of empty bookshelves. It also has two enormous wardrobes, and French doors that lead out onto the patio.

The bedroom is lovely, but it is the bathroom that has Hermione falling in love with their new home. A huge stone bathtub dominates the space.

"Oh," says Hermione when they enter the bathroom. "This is divine."

Hermione's robes button up the back from her waist to her high collar. Wordlessly, Severus turns on the bath and begins to unbutton them. Hermione closes her eyes and enjoys the sensation of his fingers brushing her skin as he removes her robes. His motions are practiced and unhurried.

When he has her completely naked, all clothes banished to the wardrobe, he motions for her to get in the tub. "Will you allow me to bathe you?" he asks, as he begins to remove his own garments.

Hermione looks at him. They have never bathed together. The bathroom at Spinner's End was barely adequate for one person. "Okay," says Hermione, not quite what to make of his offer. She hasn't been bathed by another person since she was a child.

She watches him undress. She still hasn't seen him completely naked that many times. If he can find a way to keep his clothes on during sex, he does. She hasn't pushed the issue on him yet. She wants to give him the chance to get used to being naked around her.

Severus is beautiful naked, like a white marble statue of a Roman charioteer. His scars, however, are gruesome, disfiguring even. He is missing a nipple. She hasn't asked how he received the scars, but it's not hard to guess. Hermione has scars like that of her own, after all.

When he is free from his clothes Hermione stares unabashedly at him, drinking him in. Her eyes linger hungrily on his erectiion.

"What are you staring at, Miss Granger?" Severus teases her as he joins her in the tub.

"Your cock," she replies. She has learned that the more direct she is about her desire, the more aroused Severus becomes.

He chuckles darkly. "Turn around and face me, I want to start with your feet."

Hermione turns around so that she is facing him in the massive tub. He uses the soap from a glass bottle to soap a wash cloth and then, grasping her firmly by the ankle, begins to wash her feet.

At first it tickles, and she twitches, but he just holds onto her ankle more firmly. Soon, his touch has her groaning with pleasure. His hands are therapeutic. She closes her eyes as his hands move from her feet to her legs, moving steadily toward the junction of her thighs. She feels herself growing aroused with anticipation. But he stops before he gets to the good part. Damn.

"Turn around."

She complies, and he pulls her into his chest, wrapping his legs around hers. His erection feels delicious pressed into the small of her back. He starts with her hands, which Hermione finds almost embarrassingly intimate. Then her arms and shoulders. When he gets to her breasts, massaging them with his hands, gently tugging at her nipples, she sighs and leans her head back, closing her eyes.

Eyes still closed, Hermione feels his hands on her inner thighs, gently parting her legs. She tilts her hips and lifts her knees up, giving him better access to herself. When she does this, she feels his cock twitch violently against her. He grunts his approval, setting aside the washcloth and soaping up his hands.

Hermione reaches up and interlaces her fingers around the back of his neck as his fingers begin to methodically explore her folds. She writhes under his touch when his fingertip finds her clit and flicks over it with gentle, feather light touches. She feels him reach underneath her and cup her ass in his hand; his fingertips find her tight little pucker there and begin to massage it softly.

Hermione goes completely still. He hasn't ventured back into this territory since that first time, when she was bent over his kitchen table. She still doesn't know how she feels about this. She can't deny it feels good, but it is deeply embarrassing to her. Even now, as he stimulates her clit with one hand, and her asshole with the other, she feels her whole body flush with embarrassment.

"Why are you embarrassed, love?" He asks her softly, continuing his gentle touching.

"It's my butt," she says, "It's embarrassing."

"You know all you have to do is tell me to stop. But I know you like it. I can feel how much you like it." He dips his right hand lower, dragging his fingers through her folds and reveling in her wetness. He increases the pressure with his left hand, and feels her smallest hole relax in response. He slips the tip of his index finger into her ass. "We've done this part before, sweetheart, remember? Remember how hard you came?"

"Yes," she groans. "I like it, I'm just embarrassed."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks. The tip of his left index finger is fucking her ass now, the tip of his right flicking gently back and forth across her clit.

"God's, no," she says. "If you keep that up I'm going to come in your hands."

"I know," he says, letting his finger slide a little deeper into her.

"Remember the first time we made love? I put my fingers inside you first. Remember the first time I fucked your mouth? I put my finger in it first." He can hear her heart pounding. Any second now. She begins to whimper. "Put your knees down, love, it will make it easier for you to come." She moves her knees forward to a more natural position.

"I put my finger in your ass for two reasons," he says, continuing his previous thought. "First and foremost because you like it. But also, I do it to let you know I want to fuck you in your ass." He continues to work the tip of his finger in and out of her. He wants to go deeper, but he can't without proper lubrication. He increases the pressure on her clit. She is right on the edge. "Does the thought of me fucking you in the ass turn you on?"

"Yes," she moans, "Fuck, Severus, I'm coming."

"You are such a good girl," he says, low and soft in her ear as she comes apart in his hands.

When the last of her tremors are past, she lifts her head off his shoulder. "God's, Severus," she says again.

"Let me wash your hair," he says in reply, "And then we can get out."

His hands feel absolutely divine in her hair. When he is finished, they get out and he proceeds to dry her off, with a towel, from head to toe. It's been years since Hermione has used a towel. She has forgotten how good it feels. It feels good because it's him.

"Careful, I could get used to this," she teases him as he rubs her down with the towel.

"I hope you do," he says, dead serious. "If you let me I'll do it every day."

Wow. Maybe living with Count Ice Cream has its perks after all. "Are you going to make love to me now, Severus?" she asks as they make their way back into the bedroom.

"Would you like me to?" he asks her playfully.

"Yes, sir," she replies. She turns around then, and, finding herself face to face with him, reaches out and takes ahold of his marvelously erect cock. She grasps it at the base, finding that her thumb and forefinger can't wrap all the way around it. She looks up at him.

He is looking down at her, a stern expression on his face. "Let go of my cock, get on the bed, and spread your legs for me Miss Granger."

"Yes, sir," she says again, giving his cock a defiant little squeeze before releasing it and climbing up on the huge bed. She crawls up to the headboard, listening for the quick intake of breath through his nose when she gets up on all fours and rotates her hips toward him, giving him a view of her wet pussy. Right on cue. She turns over, lying on her back obediently with her head on a pillow. She spreads her legs slowly for him, locking eyes with him. He holds her gaze for a breath, then his eyes wander down her body to settle between her legs.

He joins her on the bed, kneeling between her legs. He grasps her knees in his hands, parting her legs further, watching her folds pull apart for him. His cock jumps in anticipation. Hermione is watching him, playfulness gone, her face full of frank desire. Not yet he tells his cock firmly, and bends to taste her.

Severus could worship at this alter all day. He has told her that, but he's not sure she believes him. One day he hopes he can prove it to her. For now, he takes his time tasting her. He has given her enough time from her last orgasm, he can already tell from her response that this second one won't be difficult.

He relaxes into a steady rhythm of licks that he knows she likes, gentle, easy, affectionate. He gives her body plenty of time to respond to the sensation, and waits until he feels her start to tremble and her breathing begin to increase. Then he stops, and- kissing and nibbling his way up her body- settles on op of her.

She brings her knees up, and she sighs when the head of his cock settles at her entrance. His stomach does a little flip when he hears that sigh. It's a happy, comfortable, contented sigh. It's a sound she makes when she feels safe. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her as tenderly as he knows how.

She wraps her arms around his neck and flexes her hips against his cock. "Please," she whispers, looking up at him.

The corners of his mouth twitch up. "This is the first time I haven't prenetrated you with my fingers first, sweetheart. Try to stay relaxed and tell me if I hurt you."

"Okay," she says. She takes a deep breath, and as she lets it out, he pushes all the way into her. She gasps at the intrusion, and he stills inside her.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his no nonsense tone demands an honest answer.

"No," she says, then, "almost. Go slow."

He kisses her mouth and begins to move in and out of her, long and slow. She is still and quiet for a few strokes, and he almost stops. But then he feels a fresh rush of wetness and she begins to moan softly in his ear. She adjusts her hips slightly so he is against her clit when he presses into her. Keeping his pace slow, he reaches his right hand up to the headboard for the leverage and increases the force of his penetration. Hermione's moans increase dramatically, and she begins to writhe underneath him. Any moment now.

"I'm close, Severus," she says, breathless. "I want you to come with me. Can you?"

He grunts an affirmation, moving his left hand from her cheek to the back of her head, taking her by the hair.

Hermione feels him take her by the hair and moans in pleasure. She spreads her legs even further for him as his firm thrusts become pounding blows. His hold on her hair is the only thing keeping her head from slamming into the headboard. Then he dips his head to his shoulder and bites her there. Just as she registers the pain of the bite- it is not gentle- she feels her core explode and she is spiraling into an orgasm, clutching Severus against her with arms and legs and saying his name over and over again. She feels him tense against her and then jerk as his own orgasm overtakes them.

Later, cradled in his arms, Hermione regains the power of speech. "How am I going to be able to leave this bed and go to school with you in it?" she says.

"How about I promise to make love to you every time you come back?" he replies.