A/N:

To all my loyal readers:

There is no proper excuse for waiting this long between chapter posts. I can only apologize for the delay preceding this update and vow to post regularly from now on until this fic is finished.

For those of you who are still with me on this, thank you. Your lasting dedication to this story truly warms my heart.

And now for chapter nineteen...

Warning: Mature Reading.

It is my recommendation—if you have been with this story for a while—that you reread at least chapter eighteen. Some of the events from previous chapters will be very important in this one. Once more, thank you all so, so much for your patience and dedication to this story.

Three days had passed, and still, no word from Severus. McGonagall had informed her that he was off on Order business, and she wondered if he had volunteered for the job as a means of escaping her presence.

"Hermione?" A soft voice called to her from the Floo. "Hermione, are you there?"

She placed her crimson bookmark against the spine of the tome she had been reading and shut it a bit more harshly than was absolutely necessary. She was in no mood for visitors.

As she made her way over to her bedroom fireplace, she was able to see that the voice calling to her belonged to Ginny.

"Sorry to bother you," Ginny said quickly, "but McGonagall is looking for you. She says it's important."

"All right. Tell her I'll be right up."

She threw on a pair of black mary jane's and began making her way toward the Headmistress' office, opting to take the stairs instead of the Floo. She could do with a walk, anyway.

"Bubble Gum," she said as she approached the stone gargoyle.

The inert beast leaped obediently out of the way, and Hermione began her slow, spiraled ascent to Minerva's office.

"Hermione, dear," the older woman said softly as she entered the room. "Have a seat, won't you?"

She obliged, though there was no point in getting comfortable. She didn't plan on staying long.

"Hermione, I've noticed a change in you these past few days, and I wonder…" she paused. "I wonder if it has something to do with Professor Snape's departure."

Hermione didn't react—she didn't care anymore.

"I have no idea what you mean, Minerva."

She raised her eyes to meet those of her former Professor's and was surprised to see a touch of sorrow in them.

"Hermione," Minerva continued, "Professor Snape has asked me to give you something. He said it would be all right to open it in my presence, if you so wish, but I will understand if you would rather do so in private. Here…"

Minerva moved behind her desk and extracted a small package with an attached envelope. She handed it to Hermione with an expectant look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Hermione said, rising from her seat, "but I would really rather open this in private. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, of course, dear," Minerva answered kindly, though Hermione could detect the sound of disappointment in her voice.

"Do you mind if I use your Floo?"

Minerva smiled. "Of course not."

Making her way through the Floo and back to her rooms, Hermione nervously fingered the petite package in her hands. Why couldn't Severus have given this to her in person? Did he despise her that much, that he couldn't even stand to be alone with her?

At any rate, the package couldn't be too important. He had said that she could have opened it in front of Minerva, if she had so wished.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and laid the package down next to her, opting to open the envelope first. It was, not surprisingly, a note from Severus:

Hermione-

This was my mother's. It would have meant a great deal to her to have you wear it.

Please forgive me.

-Severus

She sat staring at the letter for what seemed like an eternity.

'Please forgive me'…

What the hell was that supposed to mean? What exactly was he sorry for? Was he apologizing for what he'd said to her the last time they'd met? Did he wish to take it all back, or was he simply sorry that he had caused her pain by telling her the truth?

Infuriating man…

She glanced over at the unwrapped package lying on the bed beside her. It was now or never, she supposed…

Peeling back the layer of plain brown parchment that covered the contents of the package, she imagined what could possibly lie beneath.

'This was my mother's'…

Well, the package wasn't long enough to be a wand. A quill, perhaps?

No. He had written in his note that the gift was to be worn. She took a deep breath and opened the box.

Inside laid, quite possibly, one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she had ever seen. The ornate necklace was made of what looked to be antiqued white gold with a butterfly clasp. The pendant did not hang on the chain, but was welded to it on either side. A beautiful princess-cut emerald sat in the middle of the circle. The craftsmanship was such that she had never before seen. The gem appeared to be floating above the metal, independent of its base.

It was breathtaking.

She looked the pendant over carefully, noting the initials, 'E.P.' carved into the back of the setting. "Eileen Prince…"

She smiled and unhinged the clasp, bringing it around her neck and fastening it from the back.

"Ouch!"

The setting had pinched the skin on her collarbone. She could feel the burning sensation where the gold had dug into her and made to remove the chain, quickly thinking better of it. The necklace was a gift—a very old, very important gift, at that. She may not get the chance to wear it very often, and she wouldn't dare risk wearing it outside the castle, for fear of losing it.

She stood from the bed and made her way over to her body mirror. The necklace did look lovely round her neck, and the emerald seemed to bring out the rosy color of her skin. Yes, she would leave it on—for now, at least.

She made her way back over to the bed and laid down, reopening the book she had begun reading earlier in the day. She idly stroked the book's cover, her thoughts taking her elsewhere. Severus could have been anywhere at the moment. She had no idea what work he was performing for the Order or where his duties had taken him. She couldn't even be sure that he was safe.

"These thoughts won't get you anywhere," she chided herself.

There was no point in dwelling on the activities of a man that cared little, if anything, for her. She hadn't been raised to chase after men who did not wished to be pursued.

She sighed, turning back to her book.

Time passed slowly, and with it, her energy dwindled. She found herself teetering on the thin line between waking and sleep, eventually giving in to the darkness behind her eyes.

"Hermione! Hermione, get up!"

"Wha—"

"There's no time!" she heard Harry yell to her as she opened her eyes. "There are Death Eaters on the grounds. Someone's let them into Hogwarts! We have to leave—now!"

Harry grabbed her arm and drug her from the bed, across the room and over to the fireplace.

"Headmistress' office!" he yelled into the hearth, throwing in a handful of Floo powder and pushing Hermione into the green flames.

"Harry!" she yelled as she felt the familiar whooshing sensation of the Floo network.

She landed with a thud in the fireplace of McGonagall's office. The room was buzzing with people—among them, Viktor, Ron and McGonagall herself.

"What's happening?" she asked quickly, grabbing McGonagall round the forearm.

"Death Eaters," McGonagall said uselessly.

"How many? How did they get in?"

"We aren't sure. We have already evacuated the students through to the ministry Floos. The Order has the castle surrounded, but I'm afraid it won't be enough. I believe some of them have already managed to get inside the walls. We won't be sure until Mr. Potter gets back here with the map," McGonagall finished quickly.

"Where are we going?"

"You, young lady," McGonagall said, pointing a finger at Hermione, "aren't going anywhere! You're to stay in this office until we've secured the grounds."

"No!" Hermione yelled, causing most of the people in the room to stop what they were doing and look at her. "I will do no such thing! I'm going to fight with the Order!"

"Do not be silly," Viktor said sternly, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly. "They cannot know that you are here! If Lord Voldemort found out−"

"No one goes anywhere alone tonight," McGonagall cut in. "You-Know-Who—"

"Screw Voldemort!" Hermione shouted, shaking Viktor off. "I'm fighting with the rest of you!"

McGonagall gave her a worried look, while Viktor seemed at a loss for words.

"I'll stay with her, Professor," Ron announced. "If there's any trouble, I'll call the others."

Viktor looked frustrated, while McGonagall nodded her head in reluctant submission.

"Hermione," McGonagall said, "this is a terribly dangerous idea. There aren't that many of them here tonight. Your efforts would be better put to use when they are truly needed. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," she stated emphatically.

"Very well," McGonagall answered, turning to Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, I'll trust you to use your best judgment tonight. If anything should go wrong—"

"I'll send my Patronus," Ron cut in.

McGonagall nodded. "Let's go."

The small group followed McGonagall out of her office and down into the main foyer. So many thoughts were going through Hermione's head, she was unsure which to think on first.

How on earth did Death Eaters make it onto the grounds without anyone knowing? Where was Severus? Was he aware of the intrusion?

They entered the Great Hall to find Harry and Ginny waiting for them, Marauder's Map in hand.

"All right," McGonagall announced, scanning the map with her eyes. "Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley, you take the front gates. Mr. Krum, you stay with me. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you exit through the back under the one-eyed witch. The rest of the Order are already in place. Hopefully this is just a reconnaissance mission on the part of our enemy." She paused, glancing at each of the persons in front of her with a wane smile. "We meet at the shrieking shack in one hour to regroup. Any trouble, send a Patronus."

Suddenly Hermione's heart was beating with rapidity. Tonight was, for lack of a better word, real. She followed Ron through the passageway, allowing her to guide him through to the other side.

"Stop, Ronald," she whispered as they reached the mouth of the path. "We should wait here."

"Ok."

He unsheathed his wand, crouching down beside her.

Time has a habit of standing still when one wishes it to pass quickly. They stood in the outer opening of the passageway for what seemed like hours.

Hermione's heart had slowed to an acceptable pace by now, her senses on full alert. It appeared that Ron was less capable of controlling his emotions than she, as his eyes were continuously darting to and fro around them, his hand already white from the death-grip he was using on his wand.

A rustling from their left caught their attention, and Hermione felt her muscles tense.

"Get ready," she whispered.

Wands held pointedly in front of them, she and Ron exited their enclosure and crept in the direction of the noise. Barely visible, but clearly present, were two masked Death Eaters. The men must have known the grounds well, as they had managed to find the spot that calms the Weeping Willow. Beneath it they stood, whispering. What they were discussing, Hermione could not hear, but she crept toward them, cautiously, nonetheless.

"Stun," Ron breathed in her ear, "on the count of three."

Hermione nodded sharply.

"One… two…"

"STUPEFY!"

The effect was instantaneous. The two death eaters slumped over onto their sides, one of the men's head hitting a rock embedded in the earth.

"Brilliant, Ronald!" Hermione said, beaming at him. "Come on, let's tie them up."

She made her way over to the Death Eaters' unconscious bodies, sheathing her wand as she walked. She tore the mask from the first Death Eater.

"Malfoy," she said with distaste, moving to remove the second man's mask. Surprise, surprise. "Both of them."

"Well," she continued, taking out her wand and pointing it at the Draco first, "Encarcerous. I think we should send a Patronus to the others and let them know about these two. Encarcerous." As the bonds around Lucius Malfoy tightened, Hermione turned to her friend.

She gasped.

Viktor had Ron from behind, his wand pointed straight at the redhead's throat.

"Hermione, help," Ron squeaked.

"Shut up!" Viktor shouted at him. "Hermione, come vith me."

"Viktor, no...What are you doing?"

"Come vith me. Now."

Hermione could feel her heart pounding beneath her breastbone. She looked uselessly around her, searching for a means of escape.

"Viktor, please," she said as calmly as she could manage. "You don't need to do this. Let him go."

"No," he answered her plainly. "Lower your vand, Hermione."

She registered the dazed look in Ron's eyes and depressed her wand arm. What choice did she have? She tossed it gently to the ground at Ron's feet and watched as Viktor bent to retrieve it.

"Ron, now!"

For once in their lives, she and Ron's thoughts were in sync. He turned with a speed she had never before seen him display and managed to get out a "Levicorpus!" before Viktor could raise his wand arm again.

"Encarcerous!" Hermione shouted at Viktor's floating body, binding him in mid-air. His still body fell to the ground with an almost sickening thud. Hermione cringed.

"Ron," she cried in relief, throwing her arms around her friend's neck. "It was him! It was Viktor. I can't believe it…"

"You should send a message to the others," he declared. "Let them know it was Viktor who let the Death Eaters in."

She sniffed. "Right."

She lifted her wand from the dirt and spoke softly into its apex, then stated clearly, "Expecto Patronum." A shiny white otter leapt from the tip and floated in front of her, awaiting directions.

"Go to Professor McGonagall," she instructed the figure, "and if you can't find her, give the message to Harry Potter."

The otter gave an odd sort of flip with its tail and was gone in an instant.

She turned around to see Ron standing over the two bound Death Eaters.

"Ennervate" he said quietly, his wand pointed at Draco, who awoke instantly.

"Ron, no! What are you doing?" Hermione shouted, running towards him.

"Ennervate" Ron incanted a second time, his wand now pointed at Lucius.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, halfway to her destination. Something wasn't right.

"Ron, please. Let them alone!"

He released the binds on both men and turned to speak to Hermione. "No. I think not."

"Ron—"

"Encarcerous!" the now-freed Draco yelled, his wand pointed at Hermione.

He had taken her by surprise, and she felt invisible bonds tighten around her wrists and ankles. Her thumb was pinned against her palm, and her wand had since clattered to the ground.

"Stupid little Mudblood," Draco spat. "Brightest witch of our age, my arse!"

"Now, now, Draco," Lucius cut in, stepping forward so that he was now standing next to his son. "You mustn't tease our little captive… much," he added nastily.

"Ron, please!" Hermione shouted.

"Shut up!" Draco snapped.

Hermione watched as Ron stepped forward, the same dazed look still lingering in his eyes.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "He's Imperio'd."

Draco sneered at her. "Brilliant, aren't you, Granger? Only took you a few months to figure that one out!"

"And now I've just told the others that Viktor was the one who let you onto the grounds," she added at a whisper, horrified.

"Quite true," Lucius replied. "I'm afraid it's Azkaban for our dear Viktor." Lucius made a clucking sound with his tongue.

"Come on," Draco snapped. "Let's finish this. He doesn't give a fuck about her anymore. I say we end this—now."

"Yes, yes, Draco, in due time. For now," he said, walking forward so that he was less than a foot from Hermione, "I think we should take our time and have some…fun…with our new friend."

Draco smiled maliciously. "Excellent."

"Protego," Lucius said quietly, waving his wand above his head in a circular motion. "Barriamordre."

Hermione froze—Lucius had just effectively prohibited anyone from coming close enough to help her. She had never heard of that last spell, but by the wording, she was pretty sure that only Death Eaters would be allowed to penetrate the protective barrier that Lucius had erected around them. Ron was slumped up against the Whomping Willow, apparently unconscious. Her eyes widened as she watched Draco step forward and confiscate her wand.

"Pity you're a mudblood," Lucius drawled, running his finger over Hermione's cheek, down her throat and across her collar bone. "Such an enticing figure—we could have had such fun with one another at gatherings…"

His boldness disgusted her, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her shrink away or cry. She did the only thing she could think of—she spat in his face.

He whipped his hand away from her and wiped the spit from his nose. She smirked when she saw she had managed to get some of it in his eye.

"You filthy little whore!" he spat.

He lifted his arm quickly and backhanded her hard and fast across the face. Stepping quickly backward, he aligned himself with Draco. She gazed with terror into the fire that was burning behind Lucius' eyes.

A million thoughts raced through her head as she contemplated the image of her own death.

"Harry…Severus…Somebody help me…please…"

Her pleas were whispered in desperation, her breathing low and ragged. She watched in horror as both men raised their wands toward her simultaneously, each of them breathing out a string of words that she couldn't quite decipher at her distance from them.

She felt a ring of fire form around her neck, hot enough to burn her. The sensation deepened, and she could swear her skin was beginning to blister. The two men were whispering to one another at a volume too low for her to hear. When she could take the pain no longer, she finally cried out.

"Please! Please, stop it—it hurts!" she begged.

Draco smiled and turned to the right, glancing at his father. Lucius looked at him oddly.

"Please!" she shouted once more. She felt as if she were wearing a choker comprised entirely of hot coals.

"Enough, Draco," Lucius said.

"Enough, what?"

"I said, enough. Do not play games with me, Draco! She'll be no fun if she's unconscious!"

Draco gawked at his father. "But I'm not—"

Whatever Draco was about to say, Hermione never managed to hear it. At that moment she felt someone wrap an arm around her waste and pull her backward against him. The last things she saw were the stunned looks on Draco's and Lucius' faces as they faded away into the darkness.

When she opened her eyes, she was standing on the front step of number 12 Grimmauld Place, her captor still holding onto her waist tightly from behind. Almost instantly the door sprung open, and the person behind her guided her inside the building.

The moment the door shut behind her, she wrenched free of the person's grasp, turning around to face him.

"Severus," she breathed.

"Get upstairs," he said quickly. "Lock the door. I will follow once I have ascertained that we are alone."

"But I don't—"

"Now, Hermione."

It wasn't a request, nor was he yelling at her. There was great importance behind his words, and she reluctantly complied.

Minutes passed with the speed of hours. She kept her ear pressed against the door in the hopes of hearing what was taking place inside the house around her. The lack of noise was worse than any sounds she could imagine, and eventually she sunk onto the bed, waiting in silent tension.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened.

"I have to go back," he said urgently. "Do not leave this house. I have put wards up so that no one will be able to get in."

"What? What if the someone in the Order—"

"The Order has been alerted, but I cannot be sure who among them can be trusted. I will return later."

He made to exit the room and she jumped off the bed, springing forward to grab hold of his sleeve.

"Please." she pleaded. "Please don't go. What's going on? Why can't you tell me?"

He stared down at her impassively.

"Don't look at me like that," she shouted, his robes still tangled in her enclosed fist. "I want to know what's going on."

Tears began streaking swiftly down her cheeks as her emotions overtook her. To her annoyance, his look did not change.

"Severus!" she yelled, releasing his sleeve. "I'm scared shitless and you're leaving me in the dark! I deserve to know what's going on!" She took a step back from him, her breath coming in gasps now. "You're just going to leave me here! No word in three days and—"

He glided forward and took her in his arms, cradling her head to his chest. He waited patiently while she sobbed on his shoulder, stroking her head lightly, comforting her.

When she had calmed down, he slackened his grip on her and leaned back so that he could look down into her eyes.

"Hermione," he said softly, "I have to return to the others. I will be back for you tonight. I promise."

She sniffed.

"Trust me," he whispered.

She nodded, and he stepped back gently, stroking her hair one more time before turning to leave. He paused at the door as if he wished to say more, but the words never came. He stepped forward and shut her in behind him.

She waited until she heard the soft click of the front locks that signaled his departure from the building then laid her head on her pillow and fell into darkness once more.

A loud crash from the first floor of the house woke her abruptly in the late hours of the night.

She retrieved her wand off the nightstand and crept to the door, opening it cautiously. Another crash from below startled her, and she tip-toed her way downstairs toward the kitchen and the source of the noise.

"Severus," she yelped when she saw him lying on his back on the tarnished marble floor. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

She bent down to assess his condition and pulled back abruptly. He reeked of alcohol.

"Severus, are you drunk?"

He laughed at her and pulled himself up off of the floor, walking unsteadily toward the arch that led to the hallway.

She followed him cautiously down the corridor and stepped forward to allow him to lean against her as the two of them ascended the stairs in unison. When they reached the bedroom, he nearly crashed onto the cloth duvet, and she stared down at him disapprovingly.

"Where have you been?" she asked quietly.

"Drinking," he answered.

She glared at him, eventually rolling her eyes. "Obviously."

His proceeding laughter only helped to increase her anger, and she left the room, returning moments later with a blue vile held precariously in her left hand.

"Drink," she ordered.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," he answered, "that is a sobering draught, and I do not wish to be sober."

"Well too God damn bad!" she shouted, causing him to look at her with something akin to shock. "I need to speak to you, and I want you sober while I do it. Drink."

He glared at her. "I do not take orders from anyone."

"Fine," she replied calmly. "Please drink this so that I may speak to you fairly."

He seemed to consider her for a moment before reaching out a hand and taking the bottle from her. He downed it in one gulp.

"The others?" she asked when he had placed the empty container on the nightstand beside him.

"Fine," he answered, not looking at her. "They are all back at the castle. Minerva's put up new wards. They will not hold against a full attack, but they will suffice for the time being."

"And you?"

"What about me?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," he answered, averting his eyes once more. "I did not participate in the fight. I spoke with Minerva afterward, but I was called away..."

"You were summoned?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "They were celebrating. They have found a way into the castle, though the Dark Lord will not reveal the passage to any but the one who found it for him."

"What are we going to do about it?"

His eyes snapped up to hers. "There is nothing to be done."

She scrutinized him closely. "Severus, what aren't you telling me?"

"I have to go," he said, rising from the bed.

"You'll do no such thing," she proclaimed. "What aren't you telling me?"

He walked past her and stood facing the wall in the corner of the room. "Do you not understand the magnitude of what has happened tonight?"

She shook her head, though she was sure he could not see her movements from his angle.

"The Dark Lord has found a way onto the grounds of which we are not ourselves aware. He has managed to put the Imperius Curse on a member of the Order—one who is quite close with Mr. Potter. He has gotten too close, Hermione. There will be a final battle…soon."

He moved from his position in the corner of the room and turned toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked in a panicked tone.

"Hogwarts."

"Without me?"

"Yes."

"Severus!" she shouted when he was halfway through the open door. He paused. "Don't go. You said it's over. Everyone is safe for now."

He turned around and looked her fully in the eyes.

"What do you want from me, Hermione?" he asked in a strangled voice. "What is it you think I can give you?"

She shook her head in frustration. "I don't want you to give me anything. I just want you to stay here with me…please, Severus."

"No," he said firmly.

"Why?"

"I must leave," he said, turning toward the door.

"Stop!" she yelled, pointing her wand at his back. How he knew what she was doing without turning to look at her, she had no idea.

"Put it down, Hermione," he said in an exasperated voice.

"No."

"Hermione, you are not going to hex me."

"Try me."

He sighed, his shoulders sinking, and turned around.

"Hermione—"

"No," she interrupted. "I have questions and you are going to answer them. I want to know why you treated me like shit the other day. I want to know why you are pushing me away. I want to know how you really feel about me—"

"I feel nothing," he said calmly.

"I don't believe you, Severus," she replied hollowly. "You're just saying that because you are trying to protect me—but you're not protecting me. Look at yourself," she gestured at him. "You live your life for everyone else, doing nothing for yourself. You have spent your entire life acting the puppet. Can't you see that?"

He remained silent, and she felt her face grow hot. "I've just poured my heart out to you, and you're lying to me—"

"So what if I am!"

She stilled, stunned. "You—"

"Do not mock me," he snapped. "You are not stupid, Hermione. You must realize that everything I have done is for your own good!"

"My own good? My own good! I've been crying for days, thinking that you couldn't give a flying fuck about me, and you're telling me that your leaving without saying a word is for my own good?"

"Hermio—"

"No!" she shouted. "Just shut up. I am an adult, Severus. I am quite capable of making my own decisions, and I have decided that I want you!"

"Well you can not have me!"

"Why!"

He looked as if he would like nothing more than to ring her neck with his bare hands. His eyes were ablaze with a fury that he usually reserved for first-year Potions students and Neville Longbottom. He clenched his fists tightly and she inched backward, not entirely frightened, but nervous, nonetheless.

He glided toward her so quickly that she had barely seen him move at all. He grabbed her by the shoulders so tightly she was sure she would have bruises. And, then, he kissed her.

He lowered his head quickly, his lips descending upon hers with a ferocity that made her swoon and jump at the same time. His fingers tangled in her hair and she melted against him, his left arm wrapped around her waist the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor. He made to pull back and she leant forward in protest, entwining her fingers behind his back and pulling him towards her. Her efforts were unnecessary. He removed his right hand from her hair and joined it with his left at base of her waist. He lifted her up easily and walked her backwards to the bed, laying her gently upon the duvet.

She struggled to catch her breath as he stood over her, raking her body with his eyes. He placed one knee on the bed and bent to kiss her again, only this time his mouth grazed her neck instead of her lips. Her skin was on fire everywhere he touched, sending shivers down her spine and abdomen.

"Tonight," he whispered against her skin. "Only for tonight…"

She groaned something in response, his fingers playing delightful tricks against the fine hairs on her upper arm.

He moved his lips back to her neck, suckling gently on the skin at her jaw line. She moaned her approval, and his hand snaked up her leg, resting on her hip.

Frustrated, she wriggled her arms out from under him and began undoing the dozens of buttons that fastened his cloak, his mouth covering hers in the process.

Halfway through her unbuttoning of his outer robe, she sighed into his mouth, asking, "Are all these buttons really necessary?"

He smiled against her lips, saying nothing.

When the robe was finally undone, she pulled away from his kiss, her eyes resting on his chest.

To her great annoyance, she discovered that he was wearing a double-breasted oxford, buttons galore.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, her eyes moving from the shirt to gawk at him.

He smirked, his hand moving to rest on her waist as he pressed his lips more firmly against hers, her lids slipping shut at the dual sensations.

When she opened her eyes once more, his shirt was completely undone and draped loosely from his body. Instead of removing his hanging shirt and robe or starting on hers, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, biting gently when she ran her fingernails teasingly up his back.

Her hand tightened around the woolen material of his cloak, enclosing it in her fist. Opening her mouth in invitation, she delved out to taste him, moaning softly when he mirrored her gesture.

She released her grip on him, placing her hands on his shoulders and shedding both his shirt and cloak in one swift movement. He leaned backward, shrugging the offending garments off of his wrists and tossing them to the floor beside the bed.

Reaching up a hand to cup him round the back of his neck, she pulled him to her, latching onto his neck with her lips and taking small nibbles at the sensitive skin. Something between a groan and a growl emitted from his throat, and he leaned back, reaching out his hands and pushing her gently to the mattress.

Her heart was beating rapidly, and she bit her bottom lip, raking his chest with her eyes. When she looked up once again, he was staring resolutely at her face, his gaze so piercing that her breath hitched in her throat.

Suddenly he was upon her, devouring her skin with his lips. His tongue moved to trace the line of her jaw, stopping at her ear to suckle and nip at the lobe.

His warm breath against her wet skin caused her to shiver, and an urgent ache began building at the peak between her legs.

She reached out instinctively to cup his groin and he whipped he head back, his face an unreadable block of stone.

He extracted his wand from his waistband and aimed it at her chest, her eyes widening in surprise. Smirking, he drew an invisible line down the front of her shirt, and she immediately felt air upon her now bare skin.

She glanced down at her torso, her brow rising when she saw he had managed to undo her shirt with one slick wave of his wand, leaving every button in tact.

She looked up at him in awe.

"Smooth," she commented, impressed.

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Naturally."

She squirmed out of her shirt and tossed it by the way of Snape's, rolling back just in time for him to latch onto her collarbone erotically.

Impatiently, she reached forward and undid his belt, intending on removing the buttons beneath it. Snape's hands moved to cover hers, his tongue still drawing delightful circles against the skin at the hollow of her neck.

"Not yet," he whispered, one hand delving below her back and between her shoulder blades, lifting her slightly up off the mattress.

His other hand moved below the first to undo the clasp of her bra, and she gasped at the cool sensation of air moving freely over her newly uncovered nipples.

He managed to slide her undergarment effortlessly off both arms, proceeding to tease the newly-revealed, hardened peaks with the point of his tongue.

She had had enough teasing for one night, and reached out again to undo the buttons of his trousers. When his hands covered hers once more, she reached a hand up to the nape of his neck, drawing him close to her so that her lips rested beside his ear.

"Now, Severus," she whispered encouragingly. "I don't want to play. I want you now."

His nose tickled the side of her neck as he leaned into her, inhaling deeply. His brought his wand arm over his head and spoke into her ear with a throaty voice.

"As you wish. Nox."

All torches in the room flickered out, leaving the moonlight streaming in from the window as their only source of light.

Hermione looked up at Snape's face, a brilliant silhouette against the reflective crescent illumination.

She opened her mouth, managing to croak out a quick, "Are you sure—" before she realized he had just uttered the exact same thing.

She smiled, undoing the button of her low-rise jeans and sliding them over her hips, down her legs and off her ankles. He mirrored her movements as she went, neither one taking their eyes off of the other.

She reached out boldly, tucking her middle and index finger behind the waistband of his black cotton boxers and running them slowly from one side of his waist to the other. She placed one hand on either side of the garment, tugging on them gently. His hands came to cup hers, and together they slid the soft barrier down to his knees, at which time he used his legs to finish their removal with three slow, measured kicks.

When he moved his hands to her waist—hooking both pinky fingers into the strings on the sides of her panties—she copied his motions, cupping his hands with hers and removing the undergarment in unison.

He lowered himself on top of her, brushing a stray lock of hair off of her forehead and kissing her gently.

"If I forget to tell you once this is over," he said softly, his breath tickling her nose as she looked into his eyes, "I cherished every moment of this experience."

In her heart she knew that there were a million responses to that statement, and she wanted to voice each and every one of them. Instead, she smiled, brushing his arm lightly and moving her right leg to the side, choosing simply to remember the moment as it was.

He bent down and kissed her firmly on the lips, nudging her other leg to the left and resting at her entrance. In one swift movement he entered her, and she exhaled roughly, pushing herself against him.

The rhythm with which they moved was smooth and effortless at first, quickly changing to one of urgent, primal need.

All of her worries—all of her fears and doubts and concerns—were forgotten in this one, perfect juncture. She ground against his pelvic bone, relishing in the sparks that shot through her body as his coarse hairs rubbed forcefully against her swollen nub.

She felt her toes curl under of their own accord as her orgasm came to a peak, and she dug her fingers into his sides, vaguely wondering if they would leave a mark.

He cupped the base of her skull in his hand, her fingers threading through her unruly curls. Lifting her head slightly, he said to her in a raspy voice, "Look at me."

Her eyes sprung open just as she felt her knees begin to quake, her lids begging to seal themselves in order to give way to the stars behind her eyes.

Whatever escaped her mouth at that moment sounded foreign to even her own ears, and she shook uncontrollably as she lost herself in her climax and the piercing gaze of his obsidian eyes.

He slowed his pace as she regressed from her spasms, bringing her down to earth and back into the moment.

Breathing heavily, she steadily rebuilt their momentum, sweat beading down the back of her neck and causing her to shiver intermittently.

His eyes squeezed as he threw his head back, his teeth set in a rigid line. His movements were becoming more and more erratic now, and she watched on in fascination as he reached his own climax.

His thumb moved to her sex, surprising her, and he began rubbing fervent, steady circles around her clit, urging her to come once more.

Unable to resist the sensations, she moved in stride with his ministrations, her hand snaking around to his back and resting heavily against his slick skin.

Again she felt her thighs turn rigid, her toes grabbing at the comforter as if it would disappear should they relax.

As the vibrations in her legs reached the ache in her abdomen, she cried out in ecstasy, raking her nails down his back and over his spine.

He let out an almost painful-sounding groan, driving into her one last time before his torso stiffened and his face contorted with a look that belonged somewhere along the spectrum between agony and bliss.

His breathing ragged, he collapsed beside her, throwing his arm around her waist and pulling him towards him.

Apparently in better control of her faculties than he, she grabbed her wand from the stand beside the bed and magicked the covers out from under their bodies, replacing them atop their collective forms.

She rolled onto her side, allowing Severus to gently stroke her skin with his fingertips, lulling her to sleep.

"Will you be here when I wake?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Promise me," she said—her voice little more than a whisper.

He moved his hand to brush the hair off of her neck, leaning forward and whispering into her ear, "I promise. Sleep, Hermione."

Contented—if only for tonight—she drifted off into the world of dreams—leaving the matters of the following day to their proper place in time.