Hermione Granger stood before the doors of Hogwarts, taking a breath. Repairs had been a success, and the school did not show a hint of the severe war damage it had suffered just this past May. Magic was truly a wonderful thing.

Ron and Harry had told her she was an idiot for returning to take her NEWTs, when she had a job as an Auror already offered to her. But she did not want to be an Auror. She wanted to help elves, centaurs, werewolves, and more. To do that, she required NEWTs.

It had been a huge blowout, and it resulted with she and Ron breaking up due to different values in life. Thankfully, it had not negatively affected her friendships with Harry or Ginny, his fiancee. In fact, if anything, she and Ginny had gotten closer, confiding and talking about things Hermione would have gone mad for keeping to herself…

Once Voldemort had been defeated on May 2nd, Hermione had thought it polite to return to the Shrieking Shack and bring Professor Snape's body to the Great Hall with the others. It was disrespectful to such a war hero to leave him to rot there.

Entering the Shack, she was stilled, looking down at the man who had caused her so much anguish as a student, the man who had saved their all their lives. She understood now why he had acted the way he did, she understood his emotional trauma, and now it was too late to ever try to reconcile with him.

She bent down brushing the dark locks from his face when she realised something: it had been hours since the professor had been bitten by Nagini, and yet his body was not cold, despite the unseasonable chill that always permeated the Shack.

Something rising in her heart, she pressed her hand to the part of his neck still intact, and felt a pulse! Gasping, she tore a piece of her already torn shirt and pressed it to his throat, which was not bleeding so badly anymore. Once she was certain that he was stable, she sighed.

"Professor, sir, hang on, okay? I'm coming back for you!" Leaping up, she ran back to the battlefield, remembering a lesson the professor had given in their fifth year on antidotes: nearly every antidote was made with bezoar and the venom of the very thing that had poisoned you in the first place. She needed the corpse of the Brazilian boa constrictor in the battlefield.

"Granger!" She jumped, seeing McGonagall racing towards her. "What on Earth are you doing?"

"Professor Snape! He's alive, in the Shack. He needs help: the poison caused full body paralysis, which is why we thought he was dead. I need to make an antidote," Hermione replied hastily, conjuring up a phial and using her wand to send some of the venom from Nagini into it before she corked it securely.

McGonagall's eyes widened, and she said, "What are you waiting for? The dungeons are intact: get to it. I'll send Poppy to tend to him and bring him to the Great Hall. Go!"

Hermione ran down to the Potions classroom, thankful it was so far underground that the rooms had not been damaged. Rushing around the desk-the desk she always thought of as Snape's, despite the fact he had not used it for two years-she grabbed things she needed from the storeroom and began mixing the potion, hoping she remembered the lesson well enough.

It seemed like forever before she finished the potion and was able to bring is to her ailing professor. Madam Pomfrey had given him a blood replenishing elixir and healed his physical wounds. All that was left was the antidote to rid his body of the poison.

Hermione stood over her professor, despite Pomfrey trying to send her away. Harry also hovered, concerned. As if he had a right to be. In first year, Hermione had tried to champion Snape to him, but his stubbornness had exasperated her. Deep down, Hermione had always known that Snape was not as bad as he had made himself out to be, and now that she was right, she was angry with Harry for having been so against the professor for many years.

She asked to stay with him so that Pomfrey had time to go and see to the other patients. Thankfully, there were many more wounded as opposed to dead. The Weasley family's sobs could be heard above the general din, as could little Dennis Creevey, mourning his brother, Colin. So many had died, and for what? Nothing. It made her sick.

It was not until the next day that Professor Snape stirred, moving his atrophied limbs. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, unexpected tears coming to her eyes. She grabbed onto his hand, unthinking.

"Professor? Can you hear me?" she asked quietly.

He groaned. She could only imagine the pain he was in. Turning his head, dark hair fell over his pale brow. His eyes fluttered open, and it ran across Hermione's mind that he had very lovely, dark lashes. The obsidian depths latched onto her eyes, piercing her. But unlike normal when he looked at her, there was no anger, no exasperation. Just wonder.

"Hermione…" She felt the press of his hand in hers and her face flamed, both at his touch and the use of her given name. "What happened?"

"You were poisoned, sir," she said. "But you're going to be fine now. Just rest, okay? I made you an antidote, and it's still working in you."

Surprising her, the stern professor smiled, his eyes closing again. "Bossy little know-it-all," he murmured, smile still on his lips as he fell back asleep.

She giggled, relieved tears springing into her eyes. He was really going to be fine, that dark voice wrapping itself around her mind and settling there comfortably.

A week later, Hermione had received an owl at The Burrow, where she was staying until the new term began. Opening it, she felt an unmistakable blush as she saw her former professor's handwriting.

"Miss Granger, I would like to express my gratitude for you. If not for your kindness in wanting to retrieve my body, I would not be alive. It seems I was not such a bad teacher after all. It may interest you to know that, thanks to Potter and my memories, all charges against me were dropped, and I was awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class.

"It is not in my nature to be overtly expressive, but it would be wrong of me to not acknowledge your good deeds, and surprisingly good potion skills. I am in your debt.

"S. Snape."

That was the last she had heard from her former Potions Master, and she found she would miss his instruction in her final year. Compared to him, Slughorn was barely average. She had learned little under his teachings in sixth year, and hated that he might be part of the reason her final grade at Hogwarts was going to be mediocre.

She went inside and waved at the people she knew, including Luna Lovegood, now in her final year, and sat down beside Ginny Weasley and across from Neville Longbottom. Looking across the Great Hall, she spotted Draco Malfoy sitting with the Slytherins, but he was not the same cocky boy he had been. The war had affected all of thim, and he was no exception. All joy seemed to have abated his body, and she felt sorry for him.

At the High Table, Hermione was glad to see McGonagall as Headmistress, and that much of the teaching staff-including Hagrid-was the same. What she also noticed was the empty place where Slughorn should be.

"Do you think he's ill?" Neville asked, gesturing to the empty seat.

Hermione shrugged, not wanting to see too excited about the prospect of maybe not having to learn from him. She might have been humiliated by Snape on several occasions, but there was no denying he was brilliant. Slughorn was adequate. At best.

The three of them compared class schedules, and found that they had many of the same classes, except that Neville did not take Transfiguration anymore. Grubby-Plank was now teaching it until they could find a permanent replacement for McGonagall. It occurred to Hermione that they had no Head Of House, either. Defence Against The Dark Arts would be taught by Andromeda Tonks, someone Hermione liked, at least.

McGonagall welcomed the first years and then said, "As there have been staff changes this year, for the remainder of the term Gryffindor will be sharing the Head Of House with Slytherin." Collective groans from all around, especially from Draco and Hermione, but for different reasons.

Slughorn as my Head? If he asks me to join Slug Club now, just because of the war, I'll poison him, she thought, angry, and still a little insulted at not having been included before, except as Harry's 'Muggle-born friend'..

That anger held in her mind till Potions class the next day. She sat, glowering, at her desk. Deep down, she knew there were more reasons than Slughorn's questionable intelligence that made her wish Snape was still teaching her, but she did not want to comment on that, even to herself.

As they waited for the stragglers to get in, Hermione saw Draco sit down and smile at her. She smiled back, remembering how he and Narcissa had tried to save Harry.

The dungeon door slammed shut with a resounding bang, making everyone jump. Hermione did not turn around, not wanting to see the fat old man lumber up like he was the best thing since broomsticks. It wasn't until she saw Neville's face had gone a sickly white that she put her head up from her cauldron.

She did not have time to turn around when the Potion Master whipped past, black robes billowing behind him as if no time had passed. Try as she might, she could not contain her shocked, "Professor!"

Severus Snape glared at her from the front of the room. "Miss Granger. You decided to give up glory as an Auror and return to school, I see." His tone dripped with condescension, but a smirk ghosted on his thin lips. "As class has not yet begun, I'll refrain from taking points from your House for your outburst."

She hid her own smile. Nothing had changed, and she found that she liked that. It wouldn't be Potions Class without the snarky attitude of Severus Snape. It seemed that Neville didn't share her enthusiasm, as he was still as white as cottage cheese, staring at the black pillar at the front of the class.

"Since I see Slughorn was more concerned with his little club than actually teaching, I highly doubt many of you will earn NEWTs for this class," he said condescendingly. "In that case, I am giving everyone until next Monday to decide if they do not want to continue taking Potions this year. After that, you will be unable to drop this class and take up another. Come Monday, when you have your homework graded, anyone below an 'E' grade will also not be allowed to continue under my instruction."

Everyone watched, Snape looking highly amused, as Neville clattered to his feet, gathering his books, and bolted from the room. The Slytherins laughed, and indeed Hermione saw Ginny biting her lip to avoid laughing as well. He faced the Dark Lord and even killed a Horcrux, but learning from Snape was apparently where Neville drew the line.

"Well, it seems we have Longbottom's decision," Snape said dryly. "Anyone else want to run away like a scared infant?" Dark eyes swept the class, and Hermione was caught in those black pools of ice. "Very well. Let's begin."

Class ended with Hermione's hair in a fuzzy mess from the cauldron heat, and she was halfway certain her potion was perfect. She had been challenged, had her intelligence tested against that of her professor's. This was why she never dropped Potions, even when Snape had been cruel and insulting. He was a brilliant man.

"Coming, Hermione?" Ginny asked, breaking her thoughts.

"One second. Go on without me," Hermione said, smiling. When the room was almost empty, she approached the professor's desk.

He looked up, his face just as impassive as it had always been. "Miss Granger," his deep voice reverberated in her chest. It did not make her shirk away as it had years ago. Instead, it sent a bolt of heat to her belly, warming her. "Did you need something?"

"No, sir. I just wanted to say how glad I am that you are back," she said, rushed. "I did not enjoy Potions in my sixth year."

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "Do not think I will be treating you any differently because of what happened after the Battle. What you did does not raise you above any of the other students."

"I would never think of that, sir," she said, not as perturbed by his sour disposition as she had once been. "See you on Friday." Her final year at Hogwarts seemed to be looking up.

One morning during winter term Ginny received a package from her brother, Bill. It was a bunch of Wizarding World records from various musicians and groups. Hermione knew Ginny was deeply into music (almost as much as she was into Quidditch), and the girl squealed in excitement, asking if she and Luna Lovegood could come into Hermione's Head Girl room to listen to them that night. She agreed, providing Flitwick said Luna could leave the dorm that night.

Hermione and Ginny sorted through the records, which Bill had attached notes to, telling them what each were like. Aside from the Weird Sisters, there were other bands Hermione had never even heard of.

"Wicked Elixir," Ginny read, holding up an album with a photograph of a phial filled with luminescent silver liquid and a single asphodel flower. The album said it was released in 1979. It was apparently self-titled.

Hermione picked up Bill's note, while Luna studied the album with Ginny.

"These guys only ever released one album. It was really great, but very dark. You might not like it. I had an ex who was madly in love with them."

"The insert won't come out," Ginny complained as Hermione went to play the album. It was their third of the night, and no one had yet complained about the noise. It was one of the perks of being Head Girl. Hermione was sure Malfoy, as Head Boy, felt similarly.

The album began to play, haunting, heavy music that swirled around the high walls of her room. She checked the song titles. "The Killing Curse". "Asphodel". "Sempra". "Dark Hearts". "For My Enemies". When Bill said the album was dark, he was not kidding!

The music faded into a throbbing drumbeat and the deepest, richest, sexiest voice Hermione had ever heard began to sing.

"How am I supposed to believe

"That this is wrong

"When it feels so good?

"How am I supposed to stay

"In your light when you

"Are so far away?

"How can I ignore the pain

"They inflict upon me

"When killing them feels so good?"

Hermione put her hands to her heart, feeling how fast it beat as she listened to this delicious voice weave itself around her mind. It was liquid velvet, caressing her very nerve endings. She had goosebumps on her arms and neck. Was it possible to be turned on by a voice? That was "The Killing Curse". "Asphodel" began to play next, slower and nearly mournful.

"You were just like asphodel

"So pretty to look at

"But deadly to take

"The very thing that kept me alive was killing me

"You were the only thing

"That made me happy

"My sweet flower

"I had no idea that you would be my undoing

"But I would rather have been poisoned

"Given the Draught of Living Death

"Than deal with this pain

"Searing my heart

"And warping my mind."

Hermione felt tears in her eyes, even as she was keenly aroused. The voice singing was so broken, so joyless, that she wanted to sob for whatever loss he had had. Neither Ginny or Luna were as affected as she was, but they both agreed that the songs were all heartbreaking.

They got through half the album, most of the songs about revenge and laden with slightly disturbing imagery of torture, loss, and death. All three girls, but Hermione especially, were transfixed by that haunting, deep voice.

Suddenly, during a loud one called "Broken Constellation", there came a loud banging at Hermione's door. She realised too late that it was past curfew, and she was playing incredibly loud music. That voice had made her lose track of time.

Rushing to the door, she opened it to see Professor Snape standing there, a look in his eyes she had not seen since her fourth year.

"What the bloody Hell do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?" he said, his voice deathly quiet. She saw he was gripping the wall with one hand, knuckles turning white. "It is after curfew, and these records are not allowed in school." He peered around her. "Lovegood, back to your dorms. Ten points from Ravenclaw." The little blonde scurried away. "Now, whose records are these?"

"Mine, sir," Ginny said in a low voice. "They're old, and my brother Bill thought it would be fun for me to listen to them, because I like music. I didn't know they weren't allowed, sir."

"Five points from Gryffindor for breaking the rules, and another five for being out of your bed after curfew," he snapped. "I will not confiscate them on the condition that you send them back to your brother first thing tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Ginny also scurried away, leaving Hermione alone with her Potions professor and temp Head Of House.

"You, Miss Granger, should have known better. Ten points for behaving as if rules do not apply to you, and you have detention on Saturday night in my office. If I catch you with this record ever again, it will be detention until the end of term." He stalked away from her, and she shut the door behind him, embarrassed.

She shut the turntable down, and wondered why her professor had mentioned this particular record? What was wrong with Wicked Elixir? On impulse, Hermione Duplicated the record and its sleeve with a simple gemino charm. She wanted to hear that voice again, sliding silkily in her ears. It was like fine wine, warming her from the inside out.

Feeling rebellious on Friday, after a very difficult double Potions lesson, Hermione went to her private room and pulled out the record, wanting that silken voice to carry her away from tests and stress.

She did not put the volume up, and therefore received no unwanted interruptions. A song towards the end of the record titled "The Red Sea" was surprisingly...sexual. Its brazen lyrics shocked Hermione. It was not as though she was a virgin, but she had not ever had a reaction like this to a man, and this was just a voice!

She felt her knickers were damp underneath her school skirt, and her heartbeat sped up. The man sang about a woman with wild red hair, much of it speculation and slightly voyeuristic in nature.

Hermione slid her hand under her skirt, tracing her fingers along the damp patch on the pink cotton of her panties. Moving them aside, she slid her fingertips along her wet opening, pushing her lower lips apart and holding back a moan at her own ministrations.

Slipping two fingers inside of her hole, she traced her thumb along her throbbing clit, moving in time to the voice of Wicked Elixir's faceless vocalist. As the tempo sped up, she too increased her own pace, groaning when the song slowed back down, as if the wizard knew exactly what she was doing and wanted her to be denied pleasure...for now.

She slid a third finger inside of herself, feeling the pleasure-pain of being stretched open as she bit back her scream as orgasm ripped through her.

As she rode the wave of tingling pleasure, the record began to play not a song, but a spoken word poem. At the sound of the voice, speaking this time, Hermione got her head out of her bliss and realised that she knew this voice. Oh yes. She heard it every single day for ten months out of the year since she had turned eleven.

Scrambling off her bed, she reached for the album sleeve, finally wrenching the insert free and looking at the list of band members.

Lucius Malfoy, lead guitar/music

Alecto Carrow, bass

Amycus Carrow, drums

Narcissa Black, rhythm guitar

Severus Snape, vocals/piano/lyrics

Hermione stared at the band photo, particularly at the man standing dead center. Tall, fair-skinned, with blazing dark eyes and a smirk on his lips that promised dark pleasures to whomever he deemed worthy to take under his spell. His black hair was long, longer than Hermione's was, and looked soft and silky. She could imagine pulling on it as that talented tongue went to work where her fingers had just been…

She fell back against the soft carpeting, her mouth agape, both at this discovery and the fact that she was actually thinking about fucking her professor. Indeed, she had been harboring romantic feelings for him for quite some time, having a secret punishment kink. She loved his brusque attitude, and as she got older had begun to imagine him ordering her about elsewhere, punishing her where appropriate but also rewarding her with mind-blowing orgasms. To top it off, she also had a voice kink, his dark tones always sending a shiver down her spine.

No wonder he had been so angry at her owning this album!

She replayed the spoken word, her hands once again going to touch her still-tingling pussy, picturing his cock between her legs as that dark voice whispered the most vile of things in her ear, all the while pounding her into oblivion right there on his desk.

What the Hell had just happened?

Severus Snape had just spend an agonising two hours in Potions class, trying to avoid looking at a certain know-it-all from Gryffindor. Ever since he had heard her playing Wicked Elixir in her room, he had been thrust back into those days, when the Death Eaters had been even more debauched than people thought.

He remembered needing an outlet for his anger, and he had begun writing poetry. Lucius had found it, declared it brilliant, and had enlisted the assistance of a few others to make music. Severus had a good voice, he knew, but he was painfully shy. Only after concocting a potion that lowered his inhibitions had he been able to record an album and play a few shows in the Wizarding community and Muggle as well.

That had been a wild year. He could recall band orgies on the bus and in hotel rooms, watching Narcissa ride Lucius while Malfoy had sucked him off, right before he had gone to fuck Narcissa right after.

Not to mention the Muggle women, the 'groupies'. The late seventies had been brilliant for music, and rock bands were never in need of a bedmate. He recalled leaving more than a few Muggles exhausted and very nearly broken in hotel rooms. Not many women could handle the level of roughness he liked in bed, and being a Death Eater meant that he had been able to treat them the way he did without thinking twice about it. After all, it was not as if he had forced them. They had come to him of their own accord, having no idea what they were in for.

Seeing Hermione's flushed face while his words were sung in the background had taken him back to those days, and he had the sudden urge to show the little Mudblood just what he used to be before he was her professor. He wondered how she'd look, bound by her red Gryffindor tie, bent over his desk as he fucked her till she couldn't speak any longer.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't been having feelings for the little witch, ever since he woke up to her tenderly holding his hand in the hospital wing. Those feelings ran the gamut of tenderness to violence, as he pictured her alternately cuddled against him, and gagged with her own tie while he spanked her little arse red.

The entire class had been torture, and he admitted he had snapped at the poor girl more times than was necessary. He hated the way his emotions worked, how he pushed away anyone who ever cared about him. Just as he had done with Lily, before losing her forever. It had taken defeating Voldemort to get him to begin to let go of Lily's memory. He would always love her. Indeed, he would never love another how he had loved Lily. But he was not obsessed as he had been, nor was he as bitter. He was finally healing.

Now he was starting to treat Hermione with the same coldness. But perhaps that was for the better: she was nineteen years his junior, and she was a student. Despite graduating soon, it did not change the fact that what he was thinking about her was highly inappropriate.

The thoughts did not abate, as he pictured her when he was younger, in the crowd at a show. He saw himself taking her back to the hotel, her pouty lips parting as she took him down to the root.

Groaning, making sure his office door was warded, he unbuttoned his trousers and took his already hard cock in hand, closing his eyes against the onslaught of sensation, not knowing that she was touching herself at the same moment, thinking of him.

Hermione had detention, and for once she was actually looking forward to it. The previous evening and indeed all day she had been picturing the most inappropriate things happening in that dungeon office. She couldn't remember ever feeling so aroused as she did these past twenty-four hours.

Ron had been...well, he had been a terrible lover. Worse than she had expected. She had a funny feeling that Severus Snape would be the exact opposite...that is, if she could ever get him to look at her as anything but a know-it-all Gryffindor student.

She was an adult, just nineteen years old. Indeed, had it not been for Voldemort, she should have graduated Hogwarts already. This was just a formality. If only she could get her Potions Master to think that way!

She knocked on the dungeon door and was told to come in, those two words sliding into her ear like silk, making her shudder. Snape was at his desk, looking over papers from students and he glanced up, annoyed.

"Are you ever going to sit down, Miss Granger? Or will I have to force you?"

Bad choice of words, Hermione thought, blushing furiously as she sat at his desk, perched on the edge of the chair. "I am sorry, sir."

He ignored her apology, giving her a stack of papers. "First years. Dare I tell you the atrocities these papers are? Do not be lenient, or I will make you do worse than grade essays for me tonight."

"Is that a promise?" The words were out before Hermione could think, and she squeaked in embarrassment as the professor turned his dark eyes on her. Ohshitohshitohshit, she thought, looking back into his obsidian gaze. He's knows Legilimency, he knows what I'm thinking!

"What on Earth is that supposed to mean, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice low. His eyes were piercing her, making her lose any train of thought she had been forming. "Hmm?" It was more of a purr than anything, and she shifted in her seat, more turned on than she had been.

"N-nothing, sir. I'm sorry," she said, knowing she was not very convincing. She reached for a quill and nearly knocked over the inkwell.

Snape grabbed her wrist just in time, the contact with her skin causing more heat to pool between her legs.

"Clumsy girl," he observed. "Is there a reason you are so nervous tonight, Miss Granger?" He did not let her wrist go. "Have you any reason to fear me?"

She shook her head, feeling his rough grip on her. Any more pressure, and she would bruise. Some dark, masochistic part of her brain wished he would bruise her, leave a mark on her more visible than the one on her heart was.

"No? Nothing about a record I specifically told you to get rid of? One of the elves told me you still had it after they cleaned your chambers yesterday," he said, his voice even. No anger-or anything else-tinged it. "What would I find if I pressed even a bit into your mind, little girl? Pleasure at disobeying me?"

"No, sir," she said, her throat dry. "I did not do it to disobey you. Perhaps you would prefer telling me why you were so insistent I get rid of the record?" There. Let's see how he responds to that, the secretive bastard.

He arched an eyebrow. "So you know. Planning on telling on me? Make the others laugh at my expense?"

That surprised her. "No, sir," she repeated. "That is not why I kept it. I do not plan on telling anyone, not even Ginny, and it was her record."

His hand shifted on her wrist, and he was holding her so that the pad of his thumb pressed gently into the heel of her hand. "Your pulse is racing," he mused. "Why did you disobey me?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "Because I loved your voice, sir. I did not know it was you at the time. I just knew I could not go till June before I listened to it again. It wasn't until the spoken word ending that I realised who I was actually listening to."

"And yet you still did not throw the record away," he said. "Even when you knew it was the greasy git, the bat of the dungeons. Curious…"

Hermione saw the hurt in his eyes and said, "I was never the one who said such things about you, sir. Indeed, while I thought you were cruel, I never disliked you. I have always found you quite brilliant. ...And your voice, sir, it is beautiful. Indeed, I always thought so even when you simply spoke."

He just stared at her, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I am sorry. I should never have said anything. I just…" Hermione shook her head, embarrassed and wishing he would let her go. His touch was maddening, driving heat straight to her core. "I could listen to you speak constantly."

He let her go abruptly and she was not sure whether to be relieved or bereft. "Miss Granger. You should leave."

"Excuse me?" Now she was confused.

"Detention is canceled. Get out."

"Sir?" She stood up, but did not leave. "What did I do wrong?"

He glared up at her. "Looking at me like that, for a start."

Hermione was beginning to see, and she could not quite believe it. Was her professor, the man she had pleasured herself over the previous night, attracted to her? No, of course not. He was in love with Lily Potter. It was silly to think that her fantasies could ever come true. This was not a Muggle porn film!

"Looking at you like what, sir?" she asked, her heartbeat increasing.

"Get out, Granger," he said, his voice so low it was nearly a growl. Her already soaked knickers were even more damp at the tone he was taking.

She took a tentative step closer to the front of the desk, pressing herself against it and looking down at her scowling professor. "Professor, do you want to know why I really Duplicated that album? It was because I have never been so affected by a voice in all my life. I think, maybe, deep down I knew it was you. Those titles and lyrics...all about Potions and the Dark Arts."

"Miss Granger, you are wading into very dangerous territory," Snape said, warning laced in his voice.

She nodded. "I know, sir, and frankly I don't care."

"You are my student, Granger. You should care," he said, standing up. He was so much taller than she was, he intimidated her easily, simply by standing.

"Sir...please."

Unsure as to what she was begging him for, that one plaintive word seemed to break the professor's self-control as he rounded the desk, pressing Hermione's torso hard into the thick cherrywood edge. His front was flush against her back, and she felt heat emanating from his body, even through both of their robes.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Granger?" he asked, his breath tickling her ear. He pushed harder, and she knew she'd have a long bruise on her stomach the next morning. "Because I can guarantee you, the Weasley boy is nothing compared to what I plan to do to you, little girl."

She whimpered at his words, more of a promise than a threat.

"I am giving you one last chance to leave and forget this ever happened, Granger. If you stay, you have to understand what you are getting yourself into," he said, moving back enough to allow her room to leave.

As if she would run away now!

She felt his hand snake under her school skirt, brushing over the seat of her knickers and further, feeling the dampness that had not abated since the night before.

"Already soaked," he said. "Just from the sound of my voice. Tell me, do you like it when I belittle you, when I call you names? When I order you about?"

She nodded, but then there was a sharp smack on her arse and she yelped.

"Answer me," he growled, sending a new wave of fear and arousal to her core.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Hm. Who would have thought you were a masochist," he muttered. "Little Hermione Granger: prefect, Head Girl, 'the most brilliant witch of her age'." His tone was amused, almost mocking. "What would they all say if they knew you wanted to shag your professor on his desk where anyone could walk in?"

He was reading her mind, or rather, seeing the vivid images she was powerless to push away.

"I can see everything you want me to do to you," he whispered, his breath on her ear, making her shiver. Large hands came around to settle on her hips, gently tugging the waistband of her skirt down till it pooled around her ankles. The cold air of the dungeons hitting her bare flesh made goosebumps rise on her skin. "How long have you been this depraved, Granger?"

She shook her head, earning her another slap, this one harder. "I am not sure, sir," she said.

Severus reached around her, unknotting her tie and slipping it from her neck. "Turn around and remove your blouse. Now."

With shaking hands, Hermione began to unbutton her white shirt, revealing her pale pink lace bra, which matched the panties he had revealed a moment ago.

He traced a calloused finger from her pouty lower lip, down her face, her neck, and ended at her cleavage, his touch more tender than she had expected. He bent down, his lips pressing against her neck, sucking the pale flesh and she moaned, causing him to sink his teeth in, leaving a bruise that would not soon abate.

He waved a hand and her bra flew off. She had no idea he could do wandless magic and felt suddenly over exposed in the cold office. Her nipples had already hardened into pink points, and she bit her lip against another moan as he cupped each breast in a hand and rubbed his thumbs across them, sending her nerve endings singing.

"What a debauched little slut you are," he commented, taking one nipple and twisting it, and Hermione cried out in pain, feeling another wave of dampness come in her panties. Was it normal to feel aroused at such pain?

"Lay back on the desk," Severus said, waving his hand again and the surface was cleared of all papers, quills, and trinkets.

Hermione complied, her legs dangling off the edge and not even reaching the floor. She heard the rustle of clothing and then saw that Snape had removed his frock coat, leaving him in an unbuttoned white shirt. His body was heavily scarred but he was not as thin as he had been when she'd known him. Being out of the service of the Dark Lord had gotten him much of his health back, and he indeed seemed much more vibrant than a forty-year-old man.

He smirked down at her and began to suck on one of her nipples, his tongue playing with it, swirling and flicking, bringing mews of pleasure from Hermione's lips. Alternately, he was pinching and twisting the other, leaving her a near mess at the disparate sensations.

"So responsive. I am going to have a lot of fun with you, Granger," he said, his voice deep with lust as he went to work on her other nipple, leaving love bites on each breast. His lips made their way down her torso, reaching the edge of her pink panties and making her breathing tense up at what she knew was coming.

In a second the cloth was gone, and she felt her professor's warm breath ghosting across her puffy, wet pussy. He gently parted her with his fingers, caressing her folds and she sighed when one finger gently pressed at her entrance. She spread her legs wider for him.

She felt a hard slap across her wetness and she jumped, but he pressed her back down with a strong hand.

"That was for being such a wanton little whore," he admonished. Quickly and roughly, he shoved two fingers inside of her, stretching her a little painfully. At her whimper, he said, "I do hope you're not in pain just from this, little girl, because how on Earth will you be able to handle my cock?"

Oh fuck, I could die right now and I could say I died happy, she thought deliriously as he began to move his fingers inside of her.

She felt his tongue run along her folds, licking and tasting in strong, open-mouthed kisses, constantly avoiding her clit in a teasing manner. His tongue licked at her clit once, then twice, before she felt him suck it into his mouth, causing her to cry out his given name.

Moving away, but not removing his fingers, she felt a hard slap on her thigh. She was certain he left a handprint.

"You are to call me 'sir' at all times, are we clear, Granger?"

"Y-yes, sir," she said meekly, her skin stinging.

He moved back and began to suck on her clit again, speeding up his tongue and fingers' movements until Hermione felt herself crashing on the waves of pleasure that ripped through her body, much more intense than anything she had ever felt.

He stood up and she saw him wipe his mouth as he grinned down at her. If she had not just come, that look alone would have sent her over the edge.

"Get up," he ordered and she stood before him. "I was unsure if I had wanted to use this to gag you or tie you up, but for once I like the sounds your mouth is making. Hands out, wrists together." He held up her tie.

She was a little nervous, about to be helpless and at his mercy, but she did as she was told. Using his wand, he made a tight knot around her wrists, binding them together securely in a knot she was certain none but he could undo.

She watched as he slid his shirt from his shoulders and put it on the chair before going to work on his trousers. He was doing this manually instead of by magic to tease her, and it was working.

Finally his cock was free, not too large, but definitely bigger than Ron's, or the dildo she had hidden away in her dorm.

"On your knees, slut," he ordered.

Hermione sank to the hard stone floor, the cold seeping through her heated skin as she was now at eye-level with his leaking cock.

"Open wide, Granger." She felt his hand grab her by the back of her hair, tugging her closer so that he was quickly halfway into her mouth. He held her still as he began to throat fuck her, fast and hard. She felt tears in her eyes as his tip brushed the back of her throat every few thrusts and she was afraid she'd choke.

He pulled almost all the way out, so that only the head was still in her mouth and she let her tongue run along the slit, tasting his salty precome. Without warning, he slammed back into her throat, and this time she did choke around him. She heard him chuckle as he watched, and indeed she felt even more aroused at this treatment.

What is wrong with me? she wondered as he yanked her to her feet. His hand was to tight on her arm, there would be more bruises there in the morning. Turning her, he had her face down on his desk, her arse in the air and her legs once again not reaching the floor.

"Stay still, or I can make this very...uncomfortable for you," he warned and she heard whooshing air as something hard and flat smacked against her bare bottom, stinging like Hell. She screamed, more from shock than pain.

"What was that?" she asked, and was rewarded with only another lashing.

"Did I say you could speak?" Severus growled, pulling her hair so that her very scalp ached.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her heartbeat racing.

"Better. And for your information, that's a unicorn hair whip. I do like to keep...souvenirs from my wild youth," he said.

This was what her deepest, darkest fantasies were made of, and Hermione could not remember ever being so turned on by anything as much as she was by the knowledge that her professor was about to whip her across his office desk while she was bound and helpless.

He sent the whip cracking on her arse and her back. She had no idea if he was drawing blood or not, and didn't care. She wanted to be marked by this night, she wanted to be certain to never forget it, since there was obviously never going to be a repeat performance.

He put his hand on her leg and moved them further apart, as he sent one hard whip on her now dripping pussy and her shriek nearly echoed in the vaulted ceiling. Hearing her vocal response, he did it a ew more times, hitting her clit directly until she was coming again, the sensation sending shivers through her body.

She was gasping as she came down from that high, and she felt his hands on her hips, gently rubbing every spot he had whipped. Such soft caresses surprised her, but she was not about to ask him to stop: his hands felt so good.

His voice close to her ear he said, "Never let it be said that I am not a good master when my little girl has been so good for me."

Hermione's mouth dropped and she felt her heart race again, but for a very different emotion than fear.

Kicking her legs as far apart as they would go, Hermione felt his rock hard erection rubbing against her folds, teasing her. In one swift movement, he was completely inside of her and she cried out at the sudden burn of her hole being stretched further than ever before.

"Oh fuck!" she cried, earning another amused chuckle from her professor.

"How does it feel to have me inside of you?" Severus asked, his voice low and silky in her ears. "Do you like being filled by me, while you lay here, helpless?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

He slowly pulled out and slammed back in, making her back arch as she groaned. "Do you like being my little slut, Hermione?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. He used my name again!

After that there was little talking, as he began a steady assault on her pussy, thrusting into her tight warmth so hard the desk was shaking.

She felt her juices coat his cock, making it burn less and less with each stroke. She arched her back, giving him easier access and he spanked her again, while one hand held her hip.

It was an endless night, or so it seemed, the pain of her still stinging back mixing with the wonderful pleasure of his cock claiming her making her unable to tell how long she had been in the dungeon.

Hermione could feel her third orgasm building in her, and he must have felt it as well. He gripped her hair, pulling her to a different angle, hitting just the right spot each thrust.

"Sir, I'm so close," she gasped.

"Beg for it, slut," he growled. "Beg, or I won't let you come. I'll come in your pretty little mouth instead." He thrust so hard she saw stars.

"Oh fuck-sir, please, please let me come!" she cried.

He let go of her hair and she felt his fingers on her swollen clit, moving in time with his thrusts and she was coming around him. She felt herself tightening, squeezing his cock like a vise. A few short thrusts later, he was coming deep inside of her, claiming her.

They were both breathing hard as she slowly pulled his softening cock out of her. She hissed in pain and the sudden feeling of emptiness. As she was coming down from her high, she felt how thoroughly exhausted and sore she was.

He came across the desk-already dressed by magic-and flicked his wand to undo her bonds. She stood up, rubbing her wrists, and suddenly very conscious of what had just happened as Severus sat in his chair, smirking at her.

"If you could see yourself now, Hermione," he commented. "From golden girl to Severus Snape's little tart."

She certainly did like the sound of that. Using her wand, she dressed herself, but noticed that her panties had not come back on her body. She glanced down where she thought he'd sent them when he cleared his throat. She looked up at him and saw he was dangling them from one finger.

"Looking for something?" He waved his hand and they disappeared. "If you want them, you'll have to come back to get them tomorrow night. Same time."

Hermione blushed. "You...want to do this again, sir?"

He grinned and licked his lips. "Oh, Hermione, I am not nearly done with you yet."

"Hermione! That was such a lovely service," Ginny said, beaming at her friend.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, wishing she could yank this flimsy veil off of her head, but her new husband had ordered her to keep wearing it until they got to their hotel in Paris. SHe looked around the reception (at Hogwarts over the summer, thanks to Minerva McGonagall) and spotted him, smirking darkly as he was talking to Ron Weasley. Hermione bet she knew exactly what he was implying to her ex.

She walked over and took his hand, surprised that he let her.

"Hi, Ron," she said brightly. "Love, the reception is about to wrap up."

"Excellent," Severus said, his voice a deep purr. Glancing at Ron he added, "Because I cannot wait to get you to that hotel and fuck you wearing only that veil."