Author's note: WARNING: Smut. So much smut. Mature audiences only. All others will come down with a case of dragonpox in places that don't bear mentioning.

And anything you recognize belongs to JKR.

He stood absolutely still as her little fingers ghosted along the buttons of his frock coat, once again fighting to control his reaction to her. Two wars and Lord Scaleyface himself couldn't shatter his control. She did it with soft sighs and those gorgeous eyes.

They had attended the trial of Wilfred Winkerton today, a low-level death eater who had worked within the ministry for decades. The dark witch had been clever enough to avoid detection during both wars, but Severus was leaving no stone unturned amongst his former associates. She'd screamed curses at him as the Aurors had seen her out.

Hermione had been next to him of course. The witch had quietly insisted, and Severus had allowed it. After all, if anyone decided to throw unforgivable around at the trial, they would undoubtedly be thrown at him rather than her.

The little witch was a calming presence. Most of the time.

He took her fingers in his own, gently.

"You need to tell that boy in no uncertain terms that the two of you are through. Or I will do it." No need to spell out who 'that boy' was.

In the weeks since Severus had woken from the cursed sleep, he had enjoyed the witch's undivided attention. She'd broken things off with the ginger menace before she'd even woken Severus, but the boy did not seem to understand that the breakup was a final end. Thus Severus has felt Ron Weasley's eyes boring into the back of his head during the trial. His anger was almost a living, breathing thing. It was by far the most impressive thing Severus had ever seen out of the little dunderhead. However, he'd made some rude comments toward Hermione, and Severus would not bear the insult to his witch.

Hexing a fellow war hero during the middle of a trial for a muttered comment would hardly be looked on in a favorable light. Having thus far escaped prosecution, Severus was rather fond of the idea of living the rest of his days outside of Azkaban.

Besides, revenge really was best served cold.

Severus was tempted to put him in a full body-bind, disillusion him, and leave him in the room during one of the intense sessions that he and Hermione enjoyed. His lips quirked at the thought of the boy watching as he debauched the sweet Gryffindor princess…

Hermione noticed the change in his expression: she might not know the exact line of his thoughts, but she knew that the smile he wore was never good news when connected to Ron or Harry (though when he wore it while thinking of her, it was a sign that some new delicious naughtiness was about to be unveiled for her delight…and delight it was.) Severus had never been with a witch that took to his dark and intense love-making so quickly and with such vigor.

There was the looming matter of her virginity, but he wasn't bothered by leaving that intact for the time being. He'd always been a patient man.

Still, judging from the way her fingers were feverishly undoing the long line of buttons on his coat, at his wrists, down the front of his placard…she was nearly ripe, nearly ready.

He was generally not a seducer of innocents. Well…technically never a seducer of innocents. He preferred his flings to be dark, brooding, and just a tad volatile…witches who understood the rules and the fail-safes betwixt consenting individuals. Nights of hot wax and silken rope to obliterate the nightmares that didn't wait for sleep. At least he had. Between wars he had indulged in such things. When the darkness was nothing but a game and a safe-word meant release…

Once the Dark Lord had returned and nothing was safe or sane. Severus had held himself aloof as much as he could. A tortured body looked much the same as another, no matter the shape of the torture, be it rape or the Cruciatus curse. Torture left him unmoved physically, and he thanked Merlin for small favors. His opinion was actually shared by many in the Dark Lord's service and even by Voldemort himself…though Severus was quite sure that almost nothing stirred the man in that way after he came back from the dead. It had certainly been a sore subject for dear Bella.

Needing to erase the memory of the dark things that haunted his mind, he backed his witch toward the bed, feral grin on his face.

Her breath caught and her eyes dilated. She trusted that his attention would lead only to her pleasure. That knowledge was as heady as the scent of her arousal.

She backed up until her legs bumped against the bed frame and he nudged her backward just enough to tilt her off balance. Her rounded breasts bounced as she landed on the bed and his eyes took in the sight greedily.

Then he was on her; nipping her neck, kissing her lips, burying his face in that wild hair just to breathe her in.

He fought himself for control, because this witch was like wine. She went to his head and he felt half drunk when she was beneath him.

She was making those little mewling sounds that he'd discovered about two weeks into this seduction. On anyone else the noise would have driven him to distraction, but coming from her, when he'd barely touched her? She who had withstood torture at the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange? That tiny mewl tightened his balls nearly to the point of release. Her reaction to him (to him and no one else) was ambrosial.

"On second thought, I will deal with Mr. Weasley the next time he deigns to visit. There is no need for you to sully your hands with the task. I'm sure I can make my point." His voice rumbled as he kissed his way down her color bone, vanishing her clothing when it got in his way.

She took his face in her hands, eyes wide with lust and perhaps…

He only caught a glimpse of whatever that emotion was before she kissed him soundly. She looked him in the eye and said "I will deal with Ron Weasley."

He sucked her earlobe into his hot mouth and muttered "Spoilsport." And then he nipped the delicate skin.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her onto his chest, straddling him with her thighs pushed well apart. His fingers traced her intimately as he gazed at her, before pulling her a little closer to taste.

He watched her body as he feasted on her. Eyes closed, cheeks and breasts flushed, head thrown back and hair brushing the bits of his skin that were exposed. The silky strands were an unending fascination for him. He pulled her tighter, burying his tongue inside her sweet, tight sheath, clever fingers manipulating her clit and pinching the plump folds of her sex as her plundered her with his mouth.

She came apart for him quickly, arching beautifully and bucking against him, and then sliding bonelessly to his side. He held her tightly as she shuddered with tiny aftershocks, but he didn't allow her to rest long.

He kissed her, long and lingering, and then pulled her legs far apart.

She was pulsating. Her folds were awash in her own juices and his saliva, glistening in the afternoon light. He traced the edge of her labia with one calloused finger. She bucked slightly, but didn't close her legs. He rewarded her with a swift kiss.

He removed his own clothing quickly. He had not allowed himself anything like this. He rubbed his swollen cock along those wet, hot folds and groaned.

He knew his eyes were wide when he promised "I won't penetrate you, but I want…"

She nodded, worrying her plump bottom lip with her teeth.

Merlin.

Nothing had ever felt as good as this. Nothing.

Her juices left him slick and she greeted his strokes along her aroused sex with jerky little gasps that would be the death of him. He stroked his member over her clit and his balls rhythmically connected with her hot center. In fact, he could feel the moisture from her anointing them.

He came suddenly, with almost no warning, thick jets of his seed decorating her body. She laughed and wiped a tiny bit off the tip of her nose as he panted over her, temporarily blind after that mind-shattering orgasm.

She held his head to one breast and stroked his hair as he came down.

He pulled a light sheet over their sweaty bodies to ward off the chill he knew would be coming as the sun set. Then he pulled the witch into his arms and held her against his heart. Twined together, unashamed of their nudity, finding comfort in the skin to skin contact.

That's how the boy-who lived found them when he burst into Hermione's room later that evening.

"Hermione, I know you told me never to come in here, but I've been knocking and you've been missing too many meals…"

Hermione sat up, gloriously rumpled. The sheet tucked securely around her breasts. Severus was shirtless, but his wand was under his pillow, and he was pointing it at Potter before the boy finished his sentence.

"Honestly Harry! When someone says 'don't come in', you might consider the slight chance that they meant what they said."

Harry Potter blinked. Twice. Three times.

Severus growled. "Close your mouth boy."

Hermione snuggled back into his arms and he couldn't help but smirk down at the witch. Besides, she'd left his wand-arm free. She was absolutely perfect.

Potter turned a brilliant shade of red and blinked a few more times, then wandered out of the room.

Hermione huffed. "I'd better go and explain."

Severus kept his arm around her, unwilling to let her go. "And what would you tell him?"

She smiled sadly and that expression did odd things inside his chest. "The truth."

She slid out of his arms, ran a quick cleansing spell over her skin, and dressed. She leaned down and kissed him softly. "I'll be back."

Severus gave her a two-second head start. He cleansed and dressed as quickly as he could and then cast a disillusionment charm.

He could hear their voices in the kitchen.

Potter's voice was angry. "None of my business? Hermione, I love you like a sister. Who do you think is going to help you pick up the pieces if he plays the bastard? I shouldn't have left you so alone. I thought Ron was helping."

She snorted. "You didn't really think he was helping."

Severus could hear the smirk on Harry's voice. "Fine, I thought he was keeping you company. But I didn't think I was leaving you alone with Snape."

Hermione's voice was torn between affection and irritation. "Harry…I know it would have been very neat for you if I'd married your other best friend and you married his sister. We would have naturally continued to live in each other's pockets for the rest of our lives. It would have been so simple. But you and I know that Ron and I aren't suited…"

His voice held a harsh edge. "And you are suited to Snape?"

Severus nearly hexed the brat.

But Hermione's tone made him feel marginally better. "Perhaps I am."

Harry groaned. "I think I'd rather see you with Malfoy."

There was a sharp smacking sound…something like a wizarding hero being slapped on the back of the head.

"Harry, I'm going to say this clearly so you can't misunderstand. You don't get to pick."

Potter sighed. "Does he love you?"

There was a moment of absolute silence. He could feel Potter's anger building.

"It's not like that Harry. He doesn't want…"

"I will kill him if he hurts you." Severus should have been irritated at the boy's assumption that he could kill him, but he found the rage in his voice slightly reassuring. It sounded…familial. It was comforting that the boy really didn't have designs on the bright witch that had followed him to hell and back. Of course, that proved what Severus had always claimed…Harry Potter was a complete dunderhead.

Severus tried not to lie to himself. He found his own reaction to Potter's anger (to the entire situation) rather telling.

Hermione sniffed. "You will not touch him, Harry. I started this. I knew it wasn't going to end with a white picket fence and a couple of black headed children. I know he doesn't feel the same way about me. But I want what we can share. I need it. I can't stand the idea of giving him up…not until I have to. When he leaves."

He heard Potter move toward her and the soft rustle of cloth as the boy took her in his arms. "You love him?"

Severus strained to hear what she would say, nerves suddenly taunt.

She didn't answer, but Severus could hear her slight sniffing as he made his way back to her room…he had much to think about.

SSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSss

He had always been a pacer. When he needed to think, he'd always found that striding around cleared his head and allowed him a certain clarity that was otherwise hard to achieve.

The villa had a grove of orange trees with a even path that was several miles long. He slipped out into the evening air.

The fruit was green, rather than orange, but he'd found that the color didn't matter much. It was quite delicious. He peeled the fruit as he ambled (his body was not quite up to his normal stride just yet…the curses had left their mark and healing was taking time.)

Hermione had all but admitted that she loved him to Potter.

He smirked at that. He had to admit that he wanted people to know the little witch was his. He'd always been a possessive bastard.

So, taking their relationship out in the open was his next step…or was it? Once the news became public (and it would…none of them could sneeze right now without witch weekly wondering what color the snot might be). Once it became public, there would be repercussions if it ended. No matter how it ended. It didn't bother him much to be the villain (and what else could he be for seducing the Gryffindor Princess?). But what if public opinion turned on her and made it hard for her to advance her goals? The Ministry was bad enough…if she went into private research she'd be in a precarious situation as well.

He needed to know what she wanted.

No. He needed to admit what he wanted.

The base desires he had for her were simple. He wanted her in his bed…all the time. He wasn't sure how he'd manage to do anything else once he finally did manage to seduce her fully…at least not for several months. Maybe years. Merlin, he'd never gone temporally blind from an orgasm before like he did this afternoon. And that was without…

He adjusted himself under the robes.

She was right about the white picket fence though. He tried to imagine himself as that kind of man. Hard enough to picture himself alive in the future…

He could almost see it in his mind's eye…a white Victorian house, with a wrought iron fence, two black heads playing by a lake as he walked up the lane. Children. Boys that smiled the way she did.

He nearly choked. He took a deep shuddering breath when his mind supplied the idea of her form heavy with child. With his child.

He put one hand out and felt the bark of the tree beside him.

Very well, he had to admit that he wasn't wholly against that prospect.

His cock was straining against his robes painfully.

He apparated back to the room, and she was lying there on the bed, book in hand.

He pulled her up into a crushing kiss, rubbing her body against him.

She was surprised, but willing.

He whispered "Take me in your mouth."

She grinned at him wickedly. Her fingers fairly flew to the placard of his trousers and exposed him to the cool night air. He flexed his hips as her fingers curled around him.

Her breath caught. He growled "Please Hermione. Don't tease a starving man."

Her mouth was as warm as her other juices had been. She bobbed feverishly up and down, using her hands because she could not take him fully. Her tongue traced the underside of his member from balls to the leaking mushroom-shaped head. While her hands stoked his shaft she took each of his balls in her mouth, sucking ever so lightly, and then applying more pressure as she ran her tongue back up the length of him.

She used both hands to hold him firmly as she sucked the first four inches or so with more force. Then she slid a little further down, removing one hand and letting her fingers stoke his thighs and the trial of hair on his belly.

He petted her head as she did this, as she moaned. His body was nearing release. He pulled out of her mouth, pulled down her knickers, and pointed the jets of hot semen at her clit. She moaned loudly and shuddered, and he quickly used his own seed to rub her to orgasm.

He liked that. Far too much.

He cleared his throat and summoned a morning after potion.

"I apologize. We had not discussed…"

She drank the potion. "It's fine Severus. Though if you plan to do that often, I should start taking a potion."

"I'll be happy to brew one for you. Now is not the time to add a child to this equation."

Her face was startled.

He ran his hand over her stomach, realizing she was still clothed from the waist up. He started removing the clothing, placing warm kisses on her skin as he did. He took the time to run his thumbs over the satiny skin along the undersides of her breasts, to lave each nipple and tease it with his teeth. He had shaved this morning, but there was a slight stubble beginning at his chin. He rubbed it across her pretty nipples, using the friction to bring them to hard peaks.

Once she was completely nude in his arms, he settled into the bed with a content sigh.

"You still have your clothes on." There was kittenish outrage in her voice.

He smirked. "Perhaps I like the idea of you naked and at my bidding witch." He kissed her forehead. "Or perhaps I simply intend to go to the kitchens for refreshments in a few minutes. Potter was right about one thing, you have missed too many meals. A wizard must take good care of his witch."

She noticed the possessive tone, but she didn't ask. He kissed her lips. "Stay right here in bed."

He assembled a plate of cheese and crackers, apple slices, honey, and wine. He added rich black olives and grapes. When he returned, he didn't allow her to touch the food. He fed her every bite.

She caressed his cheek. "What is going on in your mind Severus? This almost feels like…"

"A ceremony?"

Her eyes snapped. "A bit." She waited, expecting an answer.

He had known she would ask. Gryffindors. Some days dealing with them was like summoning fish in a barrel. "In wizarding tradition, a betrothal ceremony was not complete without feeding one's intended. It's a very old tradition."

Her eyes were wary and still just a bit swollen. He didn't like that. He knew that she'd cried earlier. Over him.

He ran a thumb over her bottom lip. "This is not binding. But a betrothal would protect you as you enter the Wizarding world. The Purebloods would know that to accost you would mean a duel…"

"Accost me?"

He grimaced. "They are Neanderthals. Regardless, you will undoubtedly encounter many wizards who would pursue you with honorable intent…but the Ministry is full of cads. I find that the idea of them touching you makes me want to avada the lot of them."

"It isn't your job to protect me Severus."

He ran a grape along her bottom lip and she bit it in half. He ate the other half. "It would be my job if you say yes to this. If you bind yourself to me."

"Why would you want to do that?"

He pulled her closer. "Because I might not be the kind of man that does a white picket fence, but that doesn't mean I don't want you. In every way. I want you in my bed every night." He palmed her breast. "I want to spend summer days reading with your head in my lap, and other days napping on those sweet thighs of yours. I want to be able to tell the world that the brilliant witch on my arm is MINE." He kissed her with total abandon. "I want to be the only man to ever take your sweet body. I want you to call out my name when I do. In time, I want to watch as you grow round with my child." His voice was rough.

Her eyes were wide. "I thought…"

"You thought I did not feel as much for you and you do for me. I know."

"You listened."

He nodded. "And I also never want to hear you cry in Potter's arms again when I cannot go to you and take you into my own. I am glad that your adopted brother is always there for you, but I want you in my arms."

The last part was said softly. She leaned into his hand. He smirked. "Though I will be tempted to hex the boy in a place he will not appreciate if he ever mentions you and Draco together again."

She laughed. "Of all the things to take offence to…"

He captured her face in between his hands.

"I suppose I should mention that there is one last reason that I want you to tie yourself to me."

Her voice was breathy. "What is that?"

"I love you as much as you love me."

Her eyes filled with tears and he suddenly found himself with his arms full of a naked, beautiful witch.

AN: I know the death of Alan Rickman has caught all of us unprepared. I will be writing something specifically for him instead of dedicating this to him though. It seems a bit unseemly to dedicate anything with this much Smut to a man who was always so genteel in his dealings with his fans.

As for Sleeping Severus…I think it needs a short epilogue or something. Hopefully I can dash that off this week sometime and update next weekend.