Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the world, or the characters. Nor am I J.K. Rowling. As such, I am making no money from this story. If you think I am, you are sorely mistaken and I highly recommend revisiting primary school. Clearly, you need to relearn the basics.

Author's Note: This is probably the last chapter. No, really. It's short. It's just PWP.

Chapter 2: Soup and Sarcasm

Hermione whimpered and threw her leg over his, pressing her face into the hair of his chest for comfort, inhaling his masculine scent and burrowing closer for warmth. This was awful. She was hungry (again), horny beyond belief, and freezing, despite the weight of blankets, sheets, and thick down comforter that slicked his skin with sweat. She would have liked to have blamed the January chill of his dungeon chambers for it, but, no. It was a bloody cold, he was blessedly warm beside her, but she was sick and needed more.

Severus huffed about a breath in frustration. "Merlin, Hermione, it's too bloody hot for this. Go back to your side."

"I don't feel well," she mumbled to his nipple. Her chest grew tight and she turned her head, coughing into his armpit. His arm twitched; Severus was surprisingly ticklish.

"Clearly." Severus's voice was heavy with sleep and annoyance, but the hand that lifted to idly stroke her spine was gentle. He obviously wanted to fall back asleep before she entwined herself any further around him.

"I want soup. You got me sick," Hermione told him accusingly.

"Oh, yes, I got you sick, Hermione," his tone edged on scathing. "I've kept the germs from my summer cold -which you did not, of course, catch at the time- on stasis, just for you. I've planted them about our quarters for the perverse pleasure I derive from being ordered about by your whims."

"I want soup. My throat hurts." She was getting sulky as she rubbed up against him.

"Tomorrow," he replied after a moment. "Or call a house elf. Now – sleep."

Hermione sulked a good deal more, running her fingers though his chest hair, pressing the swell of her belly against him, before giving up. He smiled in silent victory; she never called an elf into their rooms if she could help it.

Usually, Severus reflected, waking up with Hermione was pleasant. He would rise first, shower, dress, and prepare tea in the small kitchen provided in Hogwarts's staff quarters. By the time the leaves had steeped, she would be stumbling into the kitchen, hair a mess, but awake. She would toast bread by the fire, using orange marmalade with a small smile and an off-comment about a plush bear, and he would double-check that he had his scrolls and lesson plans for the day.

On rare occasions, she rose with him, and they would shower together, or stay abed amongst the covers. Those mornings, she giggled and took the Floo to work with mussed hair and rumpled robes as she blew him a kiss, and he watched his students quail in terror, trying to figure out why their Potions Master was nearly smiling.

However, when she was the one sick, she was demanding. Petulant. Sulky. She clung to him like Devil's Snare. And, though he would not be telling it to her face while her "hormones" skittered about, she was downright childish.

Oh, he knew that when he was ill, he was impossible. He just wanted to be left alone and to get better, and wondered if that came from having had to have been self-reliant for nearly all his life. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to almost revel in her illness. She wanted soup. She wanted cuddles. She wanted him to bring her tea. She wanted a blazing fire. She wanted to sleep all day.

It didn't help that when he'd been ill over the summer that he'd neatly forgotten about little important things... like contraception charms. So she didn't just want soup. She wanted the soup she'd had in Paris over summer hols (managed easily enough, he was a good enough Legilimens to view the memory with sensory input, and a bloody good Potions Master to recreate said bloody soup). She wanted sex every five minutes, not cuddles. She wanted tea, but it had to be decaf – with honey, not sugar. She wanted a fire, then she was too warm, and then she wanted a blanket tucked about her just so. She wanted his attention nearly constantly, and he'd developed a twitch under his eye from it all.

He was sorely tempted to Apparate her to London and dump her at her parents's door, knowing that Monica would whisk her off to her childhood bedroom and mother her into good health. In truth, he wanted to make love to her. She was gorgeous now, rounded and feminine, a physical sign that she had chosen him, belonged with him.

Even if "that horrid Skeeter woman" had written pernicious articles that speculated on their sex life. (It wasn't that he didn't, on occasion, tie her to the bed and fuck her senseless, but it was not by any means the norm, and he'd be damned let it get out that, yes, Hermione had reverse the tables and he'd been happily shagged into submission by his petite wife.)

In her sleep, Hermione turned and nuzzled his chest again, and he froze as her breath puffed out, warm and moist, against his nipple. Making love to his wife would not hurt their child, he'd been reassured by Hermione. And Monica (he'd like to forget that particular speech, and was still tempted to Obliviate himself). And Poppy. And the Healers at St Mungo's. He was deathly afraid of hurting his child, his wife, of turning into his father...

But, oh, she was tempting, and reassuring. He hadn't brought his fears to her attention, yet she knew, and didn't make him say it. One of many reasons why he loved her. And now, she was pressed so close, and soon he should rise early, escape the bed before she woke and demanded whatever-it-was-this-time from him, and go about his morning. But he was achingly hard now, and he was stroking her back.

After a moment of deliberation more, he cast a few nonverbal spells to remove morning breath (he didn't normally care, but her breath while ill was near fetid), and to remove all pressure from both their bladders. No sense in sending her scurrying for the washroom now...

Carefully, he guided her to her back. She was a deep sleeper, he knew, remembering waking her this way on their first morning as husband and wife. Thanking Merlin that she had chosen to sleep nude, he threw his leg over one of hers and, pushing her curls aside with his nose, lowered his lips to her ear.

Tracing the shell of her ear, he moved to the lobe, sucking gently and slid his hand to a breast. They were slightly larger than they had been, but still as addictively soft and he couldn't help tugging at her nipples.

Hermione inhaled deeply in her sleep, moaning quietly. Don't wake yet, he thought. He wanted to see how much he could affect her before she did. She was so much more sensitive these days, and he wanted to enjoy everything he could before she demanded he fuck her.

Releasing the lobe of her ear, he nuzzled her neck, pressing kisses down the column of her throat, darting his tongue out to lick at her flesh. Just a bit of salt, but still that fresh, clean taste of her. He rumbled deep in his throat, and kissed the curve of her shoulder as his free hand kneaded her breast.

My love. Mine. Severus flicked his gaze upwards, confirming her continued slumber. He wet his lips in anticipation. He loved her breasts. The softness. The warmth. He'd been known to curl behind her in his sleep, cupping them with his large, rough hands. He loved to watch her nipples pebble, or suck them to little dark points in his mouth. The depth of his love and lust nearly shook him. He wanted to anoint her with his mouth, worship her as his goddess...

With a soft groan, he twisted one nipple with his long fingers, and laved the other with his tongue. Sweet mercy, she was divine! Exquisite. Lustrous, silky flesh that he tugged into his mouth and sucked at her.

"Severus!" Hermione gasped, eyes flying wide, suddenly awake, hands tugging at his scalp.

He released her breast from between his lips, raising hooded eyes to hers. With a wicked smirk, he ignored the pain of his hair, and pinched her nipple tightly, sucking long and deep at her breast. So good. The texture of her skin, the taste of her, the scent of her flesh, the feel of her fingers twining in his hair. He pulled at her breasts in a rhythm, mimicking what his child would do in a matter of weeks. She whimpered and her hips shifted as much as they could, pinned by his leg as they were.

He moved from her nipple to her breast itself, marking her with tongue and teeth. "You're pulling on my hair."

"Sorry," she said breathlessly, releasing the strands.

"Did you want me to stop?" Severus asked silkily.

"Oh, god, no, please don't stop, I've wanted you for days!" Hermione tried to reach for his erection, and he swatted her away.

"Days? And you haven't said anything?"

"You -"

"No," he interrupted. "You've been a very naughty witch, love. And if you've wanted me for days, surely I would be remiss in my - what did your mother call them? Husbandly duties? - if I did not provide you with the proper amount of pleasure."

"Please don't bring up my parents in our bedroom."

Unrepentant, Severus pushed her knees further apart, skimming a warm hand down her rounded stomach. "Perhaps, Hermione, I should spank you, for neglecting to inform me of your...need."

"I can't really get on my stomach for that," she replied wryly, every inch of her wanting him to touch her already.

"Who said I was going to spank your bottom?" Severus swatted her labia and clit sharply, watching as she tossed her head back with a gasp. "Oh, how I've longed for this, Hermione..."

"To...to spank me like this?" Her voice started on a squeak and ended on a moan as he spanked her again. "God, that feels good..."

"Not just to spank you," he said in a low voice. He knew full well what the lower registers of his voice did to her. "But to touch you..." he dipped his fingers into her center. "So wet, Hermione... to pleasure you..."

She whimpered. His fingers felt amazing as they began to circle her clit. The light swats made the blood rush there, and she was so sensitive... he stopped circling and she lifted her head, dropping it as he spanked her again, then again...oh, god, so good, Severus...

"Breathe," he ordered, and she obeyed. She hadn't realised she was holding her breath. "Good girl...now... keep your hands there, love."

Hermione tightened her hold on the sheets. Oh, he was really going to do it...

Severus moved lower and spread her lips with two long fingers of one hand, and a finger from the other inside her. "You're so wet..."

Withdrawing his finger, he spanked her again, lightly, and kissed the inside of her thigh as her hips jerked. He wished he could see her face over the rise of her belly, but her reactions would have to do for now. "So lusciously slick..."

He murmured her name, and added another finger insider her as he sealed his lips over her clit and sucked gently. Oh, god, she was so wet for him. So bloody tight... The keening cry that accompanied the small tremor that overtook her was glorious, and he wanted to take her there again. As long as he was gentle, didn't push it, he could give her several small orgasms.

He waited until her hands unclenched in his peripheral vision, then began to curl his fingers inside of her. She began babbling, and he licked at the little pearl held so dearly in his mouth. Delicious, succulent, oh, sweet Hermione...and mine, all mine...

Hermione whimpered, legs trembling and toes curling. Fuck, she wanted to come, come hard, not these teasing little orgasms that left her wanting more. She wanted to grab him, push him to the bed, and ride him. She wanted him to fuck her.

"Severus!" she called as he brought her again. He raised his head, moving fingers to rub her clit insistently. His mouth with wet and he licked his lips slowly, the sweeping curve of his tongue making her shiver.

She shook, twisting her fingers in the bed, and finally burst out with, "Please, Severus! Oh, please, oh, please, I want you in me, I want you to fuck me...I want your cock in me, hard and fast and deep, I want to come, oh please.."

He loved it when she swore, when she begged him. His lips curves into a lascivious smile as he watched her. She was nearly there, so ready to come... he waited until she was about to tip over that edge, and moved his hand away. Hermione tossed her head in frustration. Oh, yes, love, I'll make you come, don't fret... you know I'll bring you pleasure...

Moving between her legs, he was careful not to crush her belly as he slid home. Oh, gods, oh, Merlin, yes, so sweet, so tight, oh, fuck, Hermione... She wrapped her legs around his waist and he began to move, tilting back to hit that spot inside her that – yes, there she went now, panting, flushing pink, eyes shut as her hands twisted helplessly. Oh, yes, that's it, love, come, come for me, let me feel you...

"Oh, Severus... SeverusSeverusSeverus...SEVERUS!" Hermione cried out and her back arched and she tightened around him, rippling and pulsing and his mouth ran dry. He fucked her through her orgasm, sending off smaller tremors, keeping her panting and moaning and clutching at his shoulders. She felt so good, so tight, so wet...

He was nearly there. So close. He wanted to come. He was hard and wooden and she was fire and was making him burn. It seared up his spine and he thrust harder as her body gripped him, tight and hot and silken, and then he came, throwing his head back and exposing the long line of his neck as he groaned, deep and guttural, jerking his hips into her as she whimpered with each thrust. Slowing his thrusts, he gazed down at her hotly as his body emptied itself into hers. She was beautiful, so beautiful...

Hermione moaned and eventually lowered her legs as the aftershocks of her orgasms settled. Severus's arms were shaking, and he collapsed beside her, fingering her nipples briefly, hand coming to a rest on her stomach.

It had been glorious, he thought. Wonderful.

They lay together in companionable silence as their breathing slowed and hearts calmed.

"Severus?" Hermione managed finally, poking him in the side.

He lifted his head questioningly.

"I want soup."

Dropping his head down to the pillow with a groan. "Of course, dear. Whatever you want, dear."

And there you have it! A short finished fic. 3

Haven't edited yet, though, sorry.