I do not own the world of Harry Potter, but I am glad JK Rowling allows us to muck about with it.

A few weeks ago, fellow writer Savva posted on Facebook a very inspiring picture of just a pair of legs in stockings and a hand holding a drink. I found it very sexy and it inspired this.

Severus Snape irritably made his way toward the last compartment on the Hogwarts Express. He had hoped to be ensconced away from the little brats over an hour ago, but three fights and two crying first years had fouled up his well and truly laid plans to hide away in complete silence.

This year was the first time Severus had to act as chaperone on the Express. Since the war ended, it had been decided that the Hogwarts professors would take turns riding the Express to provide an added safety measure and thus far, no harm had come to the students, making parents who sent their children to the school more comfortable.

Severus was not happy at all that this task had come his way; he did not want to babysit a bunch of overly hormonal, spotty teens and weepy firsties.

Now that the train was underway and the students more or less settled, he looked forward to the dear old compartment he had found when he was a student. It was located at the very end of the train, in a rickety old carriage that served as a spare luggage carrier. The compartment was tiny—not more than three feet wide—with only one long, flimsily cushioned bench to sit upon. However, once the door was warded and he was settled, he knew he wouldn't hear a peep from any of the students until it was time to patrol in three hours.

Without thought, he turned the knob to the compartment door only to wrench his hand painfully when it did not open. What the hell? he thought. He tried the knob again and when it would not turn, he pulled out his wand. Flicking it, he discovered someone had laid wards heavily on the door. He wondered if the compartment was in use or to no longer be used. Either way, he began to dismantle the wards.

When the door finally opened, the sight that met Severus Snape's eyes would forever be imprinted on his brain.

It was a pair of legs. They were propped up against the wall, left over right, in front of the seat and sexily encased in the most satin-sheer set of stockings he had ever seen; they were so sheer they fairly glimmered. He followed the legs to the feet only to find a pair of cock hardening black stiletto heels with rounded toes. He let his eyes drift back up the legs again, and nearly drooled when he saw the straps of a hunter green suspender belt exposed on creamy white thighs. Although most of the blood from his brain had flowed to his prick, he still had the presence of mind to note that the right thigh had a mole. His imagination took him momentarily away from the train to a place where he was circling the mole with his tongue.

Wrenching his brain away from his fantasy, his eyes roamed a few more inches to take in the pleated, almost Slytherin green skirt that had fallen upward due to gravity, bunching at the crux of thighs and pelvis.

A clinking noise drew his eyes reluctantly away from the thought of just what was or wasn't under the skirt. He took in a glass of whiskey on the rocks held in a white slender hand; the fingernails were neatly lacquered in what he knew was called a 'French manicure'. He often dreamed of such a hand stroking him. He followed the hand to a trim arm where more creamy skin was exposed until it met the sleeve a white shirt. Honey gold curls spilled onto the white shirt, providing the only break of colour on the body since his view of her skirt.

His eyes moved to the face of the long legged vixen and nearly gasped aloud when he realized the woman was Hermione Granger, his new colleague.

"Miss Granger," he drawled, "may I ask what in Merlin's name you think you're doing?"

Hermione's head turned slowly toward Severus. With eyes slightly dilated due to dim lighting of the compartment and from how many drinks he had no idea, she replied, "I am relaxing, Deputy Headmaster."

"I can see that you're...relaxing. A little too relaxed if you ask me. Get up and get the hell out of here! This compartment has been reserved for me."

"I saw no reserved sign." Very slowly, she uncrossed her legs, causing Severus' eyes to go crossed. Did she wear no knickers under her skirt?

Flustered, he sputtered, "Why are you dressed like a tramp? Do you want the students to see you this way? There are over one hundred young men on this train who would find your dress alluring. You are inappropriately attired, Professor Granger."

Hermione stood, drank the remainder of her whiskey in one gulp and dropped the glass. "Deputy Headmaster," she began, "do you think I am passionless?"

Severus couldn't answer. His brain was cramping from what he was seeing and the question she asked, and he had no time to answer because she kept speaking.

"Do you think I am frigid? A prude? Do you think I am without skill in bed?"

"What sort of questions are these? How many whiskeys have you had? Let me find the snack trolley...perhaps there'll be some coffee." he replied.

"I am not drunk!" she implored. "Answer me, Professor Snape; do you think I am passionless? Ron does...he thinks I am boring in bed, too much of a bookworm. Viktor thought I was not exciting enough, not daring enough. I read too much, I think too much, I talk too much."

"Why are you asking me this?" he asked, slightly annoyed, but breathing heavily.

Hermione took a step closer and reached her hand toward his face. Brushing her fingers down his cheek, she answered, "I bet you have passion. I bet you're not a prude, frigid or boring in bed. Tell me Deputy Headmaster, are you? Under on these layers," she patted his frock coat, "are you passionate?"

He stared at the diminutive woman standing in front of him so closely he could smell her scent. It was the scent of a woman who did not wear heavy perfume; it was fresh and clean and there was an undertone of her arousal. He removed the hand from his coat, meaning to push her away, chastise her and throw her out, but he stopped. He instead pushed her toward the wall, trapping her with his body.

"Your eyes tell your passion, Miss Granger," he growled.

"And what do my eyes tell you?"

"That you are, without a doubt, a lioness. Fierce, proud, loyal and passionate. Oh, yes, very passionate. Given the right…" he over pronounced the 't' and raised an eyebrow, "inspiration, your passion would burn the receiver; enflame him, ensnare him, consume him. Once touched by your passion, he would never, ever let you go."

As Severus spoke, he had danced the fingers of his right hand along her thigh, up to her suspender belt and finally confirmed what he was sure he'd seen earlier; she wore nothing under her skirt.

With his fingers stealing along her sex, he whispered, "Those boys are fools." He stroked through her curls and she whimpered. "They never noticed your passion as you read."

Using his left hand, he traced a finger along her forehead. "The way your brow crinkles as you consider a new idea."

The fingers of the hand between her legs flitted along her opening while the other hand traced her mouth with his thumb.

"The way you lick your lips when you speak about a subject that excites you." He drew the syllables of the word excite out as his fingers circled her pearly nub.

"The way your body… shudders when a point you've been struggling to understand finally comes together in your mind."

He leant in, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from her lips. "I want your passion, Miss Granger. Only for me, do you understand? You will burn only for me as I will burn for you."

He stole her gasp as it left her lips when he plunged his fingers plunged into her body and kissed her at the same time.

The train pulled into Hogsmeade hours later. Madam Hooch escorted the children off the cars and into the carriages, Hagrid's booming voice in the distance, corralling all the first years. "Where's th' Deputy Headmaster?" he called to her.

"I've no idea," Hooch called back. "He disappeared shortly after we got underway and if I see him, Deputy or no, I am going to wring his scrawny, pasty white neck! Imagine leaving me with all...there you are!" she shouted as she spotted Severus leaving the last car, turning to help Professor Granger down the steps. "Severus Snape! If you ever leave me with a train full of students again," she growled.

"My apologies, Madam Hooch. Professor Granger became ill on the train, and I assisted her until she was well," he said placidly as if he hadn't been shagging the woman for the last four hours.

Hooch looked at Hermione. "Aye," she said, "she does look a bit flushed, as do you, Severus. Are you sure whatever she has isn't contagious?" She took several steps back.

"I am certain. Now, let's get the children up to the castle; you know the Headmistress hates for the sorting to go overlong."

Hooch scurried along, leaving Severus and Hermione to slowly follow behind.

"Do you think she suspects?" asked Hermione.

"No. One thing Hooch hates is illness; she'll keep far enough away to notice anything amiss."

"What would she notice? You haven't left any love bites, have you? You did seem a bit obsessed with my neck."

"I couldn't help myself. Every time I nipped your neck, you spoke such delicious filth. You are really are quite naughty. You should be punished for spewing such words from your pert little mouth," he drawled.

"You said quite a few words yourself when my pert little mouth was wrapped around your cock," Hermione purred.

"Keep it up, and you'll earn yourself a detention, Miss Granger."

"What?" she cried. "I'm a professor. You can't give me detention!"

"Well then perhaps we can think of some other sort of punishment, hmm?" Looking around he bent and whispered in her ear, "My quarters, ten o'clock. Be sure to wear those stockings."