Unforgettable

By: Looneyluna

I don't own the Harry Potter universe. The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Warning! This story contains mature content between consenting adults.

--

"Will you just relax?" George whispered to his counterpart in crime.

Moving one of the branches of the bush they were hiding behind, Fred cleared his throat and waited. "We've only tested the potion on Mum and Dad. How do you know it will work?"

"I don't," George replied. "Mum and Dad were the control test. We need a random sample. It was a miracle we were even able to spike the punch with Mad-Eye watching our every move."

"What makes you think the subjects will show up here?"

"I don't know if the potion will even work, seeing as it was so diluted," George mumbled, squinting into the dark.

Fred huffed, trying to get more comfortable. "I saw an opportunity and took it. You do realize the potion is illegal. It's not like we are going to be able to market it, much less make any money off of it."

"I know," George said and chuckled. "But think of the fun we're having. Wouldn't it be a hoot if Dumbledore winds up under the potion's effect? I'd like to see who he winds up with."

"Well, if his intended doesn't get an adequate dose, we'll never find out." Fred shifted the leaves of the bush again and moved to sit up. "I bet Ginny and Harry wind up together."

George frowned. "I hadn't thought about that one. I don't think I like the idea of the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort having his way with our little sister."

"You should have thought of that before you gave me the go-ahead to spike the wretched punch," Fred responded defensively.

Growing more agitated, George shifted behind the bush and looked up at the stars. "Maybe it didn't work."

"It was still a brilliant plan," Fred said in a comforting tone. "Couldn't you just imagine who would wind up with whom?"

George sighed wistfully. "It's a given that Ron would go after Luna," he conjectured.

Fred shivered. "What about Hermione? Who do you think she would fancy?"

"Not a who," George replied. "A what. As in what book would she fancy? Do you think she might fancy a Goblin? She's around them all day long at work."

"You're just sore because she turned you down," Fred teased. "Even if the potion did effect Hermione, she wouldn't come looking for you. The potion only draws those attracted to one another together."

"I bloody well know what the potion is good for, imbecile," George retorted.

"Hush!" Fred whispered. "Someone is coming."

--

Hermione staggered through the wizard's maze, welcoming the air against her warm skin. She'd had to leave the second annual celebratory ball. It was too hot and there were too many people in the grand hall. The Ministry had gone to a lot of trouble to secure such a grand mansion to celebrate Voldemort's downfall. Most of Hogwarts' staff and alumni were here…even him.

She honestly didn't know why he'd even come tonight. Professor Snape, as usual, had done nothing but stare menacingly at people all night long. He hadn't changed one bit. Seven years of condescending remarks and looks had been the bane of her existence during Potions' classes. Even after two years away from Hogwarts, he still held sway over her. His was the voice in her head that constantly challenged her.

She approached the levitating punch bowl with wary hesitation. Professor Snape was sulking next to it, glass in hand and staring at various couples as they danced around the floor. If it weren't for the desperate thirst she felt, she would never have approached the refreshment stand.

"Accio Cup," she said, waving her wand with a smirk. After all he hated foolish wand waving. Scooping some punch into her cup, she took a small sip and winced.

"You may want to try the champagne. Or is butter beer more your speed?" Snape questioned with a sneer. "I just chased the Weasley twins away from the bowl. Apparently they spiked the punch with some unknown libation."

Hermione looked at the cup in Snape's hand and grimaced as she took another sip. He was drinking it. She would be damned if he would intimidate her. "Delicious," she replied, her eyes watering. The room seemed to get hotter and she shifted from foot to foot uneasily.

"Yes. Quite," the potion master said, draining the contents of his cup and placing the cup on a passing tray.

The challenge was issued. She could see it in his dark eyes. She would have to down the contents of the glass in one swift gulp to best him. Bastard. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head and cup back and choked the red liquid down as best she could. Her eyes burned as tears formed. What the hell did George and Fred put in the punch? It was disgusting. Finally able to compose herself, Hermione set her cup on a floating tray and walked away. "A pleasure, as always, Professor."

Unbuttoning the top of the outer robes, Hermione fanned herself with her hand. Her gown was of modest Muggle design, but she wanted to rip it from her skin and take a cold shower or jump into a lake. Neither a lake nor a shower was available. Bloody hell! She took her outer robe off completely and slipped out of her shoes. Maybe she was coming down with something.

Desire ensnared her and she started panting. Here she was at a grandiose ball with no date to take home and shag rotten. Worse. She wasn't even at the ball anymore. Here she was languishing in the wizard's maze, wanting nothing more than to go back and find her former potion master and snog him senseless.

Snape?

Where in the hell did that thought come from?

The bushes rattled, the maze constantly changing. A new clearing appeared in front of her and standing in the middle of the clearing was the object of her traitorous thoughts. Don't panic. Calm down.

--

He felt as though he were under the Imperius Curse. Something impelled him to find her. Gods, he felt as though he was on fire. She was alluring tonight, her crimson red robes doing nothing for her figure, her unmanageable hair barely contained by the clip at the nape of her neck. She was unassuming and plain, not at all his type.

Primal instincts incited him to close the distance between them. Her outer robe was on the ground and she was pacing restlessly, tugging off her gloves.

"You!" she shouted.

Whatever she was about to say was lost as he sealed his lips over hers. With practiced skill, he invaded her mouth, nibbling on her lips, sweeping his tongue along the seam of them. She groaned in response and opened her mouth.

Glaring into her surprised, lust-filled eyes, Severus grabbed her wrists and held them to her sides. Gods, he needed her. He needed to be inside her, to burying himself inside her heady orifice and seek his release. Breaking the kiss, Severus nipped and licked his way along her jaw and down her neck.

Hermione started once his lips settled over a delicate spot along her neck.

Her excited breathing urged him to bite the tender flesh. She was his. This was his mark. One hand left her wrist and hastily groped one of her covered breasts.

They knelt on the discarded robe, Hermione lying back and opening herself for her former professor.

"Please." The desperation in her voice was her only vocalization as she hiked her gown up to her thighs.

Kneeling between her legs, Severus opened his robe and reached for her. Pushing her gown up to her waist and running his hands along her thighs, he uttered a silent curse. Leave it up to a Muggle born witch to wear a Muggle contraption like nylons. Normally Severus found the trappings arousing, but not this time. With growing frustration, he unhooked the clips and tore her knickers off her body and held them up to his nose. The scent, this is what he needed. He would indulge in this and, once sated, cast her aside. He would Obliviate her and she would never remember this lapse in judgement.

Hastily undoing the buttons to his trousers, he released his ready sex.

Hermione tried reaching for him, but Severus grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. He pushed her legs farther apart and positioned the crown of his manhood at her quivering entrance, a moment of clarity suddenly breaking through the lusty haze that muddled his reason.

A lust potion! Those little prats had spiked the punch with a lust potion. Why hadn't he recognized the symptoms sooner as he became unbearably hot and torrid thoughts of Hermione Granger started running through his mind? Lust potions were highly illegal. Once he completed shagging Hermione senseless, he was going to hunt the Weasley twins down and remove their vital organs so they could never procreate. The last thing he needed was for them to breed and for him to get stuck teaching their dunderhead children. The thought made him shudder.

His former student moved underneath him to try to lift her hips and complete the union.

With a sneer and a vicious thrust, Severus imbedded himself inside her heat. All conscious thought abandoned him as he rutted wildly on top of her.

Her soft pants and moans filled the night air, hastening his pace. The feel of her feminine core around him was bliss. The scent of her filled his nostrils and he knew before this night was over that he would feast between her folds. He frowned, unable to hear what he wanted, the sound of his flesh slapping against hers.

Burying the sensatory thought deep within him, he quickened his pace, driving into her with one goal, one purpose. Then he felt it, the damp walls of her core clasping his flesh. She was still beneath him, riding the tide of pleasure.

He didn't think he could go any faster, unadulterated pride swelling in his chest after witnessing her orgasm. This union was about him now, the greedy, self-centered, egotistical bastard. He entered her the final time, silently moaning as he came.

Collapsing next to her, he righted himself. He was still on fire, lust flooding his sensing. The bushes shifted, signaling an end to their tryst.

Severus stood, and pulled his lover up, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. She was breathing heavily, idly petting his forearm and nuzzling it. He could feel the desire pool in his groin and cursed again. This lust potion was stronger than he'd ever known. How had those two dunderheads managed such a potent batch?

Gathering her robe and pocketing her knickers, he embraced her and looked into her shocked eyes. "We aren't finished yet." They Disapparated.

--

"I think I'm going to be ill," George mumbled.

Fred couldn't take his eyes off the spot where the frenzied coupling had taken place. "I can't believe it. Who would have ever thought Hermione and Snape would be attracted to one another."

"I'm going to be ill," George groused, holding his stomach.

"No honking, George. It wasn't as bad as watching Mum and Dad going at it like rabid kneazles." Fred stood and offered his twin a hand.

--

TBC