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Kiss The Serpent	By : indigonightowl Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32591 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. That pleasure is JKR’s. I only own the plot…and since I lost the plot a while back, I’m not sure I own even that.

A huge thank you to Chartreuse and Wartcap for their original beta so many years ago, and to MoodySavage, my current beta who is doing amazing work with her red pen. At last - someone who understands the comma!

WARNING: There be lemons ahead...

Monday

He was being watched. Coming instantly awake, he turned his head and found Hermione supporting her chin on her hands, examining his face in the dim candlelight. Self-conscious of the fact that he might have been snoring…or worse, drooling, he pinned her with the ‘what precisely do you think you are doing?’ look that usually made the recipient quail in terror.

“Your nose is really huge, you know,” she pointed out, not taking her eyes from his face.

Severus blinked. Evidently, he needed to work on his glare.

“Thank you for that remarkable observation. Is pointing out the obvious a hobby for you or is this just a special occasion?” he drawled. How wonderful. He wondered if he was to have his physical flaws pointed out as a regular occurrence.

“No, really, I’ve never taken that much notice before,” she said. “But it suits your face…it’s very imposing…makes your face strong. You wouldn’t be the same without it.”

Hermione reached out and gently caressed the bridge of his nose, her eyes following in fascination where her fingers travelled. Her hand was warm, leaving a tingling trail on his skin. She traced his eyebrows, down his cheekbones, and rubbed her fingers gently across his lips. It was an unexpectedly tender caress.

She is admiring me? Would wonders never cease?

Her touch sent shivers down his spine, tingling straight into his groin in an age-old response. She was still tracing gentle circles over his mouth, staring at his lips with an open look that made his breath catch.

It made no sense at all that she would touch him in such a way. It was almost as though she liked him, and he knew that to be impossible. Sex with her had been extremely pleasurable, but that was merely an unexpected bonus.

The thought sent another shaft of pleasure down his spine, making him harden instantly. It was a confusing thing to be so responsive to another person’s touch. It gave her a measure of power over him and it made him uncomfortable, not to mention the tension that it built in his body.

He wanted to make love to her again. They were still naked from the previous night, and that realization fanned the flames of his arousal.

Make love? Interesting choice of words to describe this particular task.

She was so responsive to him. Neither submissive nor aggressive, just responsive. He assumed she saw it as her duty to respond since that was the purpose of this assignment. He wondered if she would turn away from him if he initiated sex with her now. She had done her ‘job’. He was no longer a virgin and when the time came, the prophecy could not be twisted to apply to him. He was safe.

So why was she touching him now?

While he was lost in his inner debate, Hermione leaned over and replaced her fingers with her lips, catching his mouth in a sensuous kiss.

It wasn’t like any other kiss they had shared. His arousal flared through his entire body, making him shake with suppressed need. Married or not, he had not expected her to want any type of physical intimacy once the task of his ‘deflowerment’ had been completed. That she reached out for him now filled him with a nameless emotion that caught in his throat and threatened to suffocate him.

She slid her body closer, wrapping an arm across his chest, and sucked experimentally on his lower lip. Tentatively he relaxed his jaw. She flicked her tongue into his mouth causing him to moan involuntarily against her mouth, before he tried to capture it with his own. Smiling faintly, she tasted him fully.

It took his breath away and sent another surge of desire through him. He pulled her closer, reveling in the soft skin under his hands, as she wiggled seductively against his chest. When she brushed against his eager erection and pressed her hips into him, he gasped at the friction, making her smile against his skin.

Rolling onto his back, he tugged her on top of him. Without hesitation, she straddled him eagerly, rubbing her naked breasts against his heated chest. She sat up slowly, causing her wet heat to come into direct contact with his turgid sex, which forced another involuntary moan from him. She was watching his face very closely. The sight of her sitting high astride him, her hair in sexy disarray, her face flushed with her arousal, was beautiful. He reached for her breasts, cupping their weight in his hands, and surprised a gasp from her. She leaned into his caress, enjoying the sensation that shot through her as he tugged and kneaded the tender peaks. She moaned and closed her eyes in pleasure.

His hand stroked from her breast to her hip, his thumb trailing through her curls. It was a light caress but she gasped as he stroked over her clit. Fascinated at her response, he repeated the motion and was rewarded with her sigh of pleasure. He watched her face as he slowly worked the sensitive spot with the pad of his thumb, her eyes heavy with desire, her lip caught gently between her teeth. It was shamelessly erotic to watch her arousal surge, accompanied by a sweet wetness he could feel as she rocked against him.

Tilting her pelvis gently, she stroked forward on the underside of his shaft until she could feel him poised at her entrance. Her eyes widened and with a deliberate roll of her hips, she caught the head of his penis in her hot, wet sheath.

They both groaned as she slowly impaled herself on his erection, allowing him to slide into her tight centre. The sensation was electric. He peered at her through half-closed eyes, the sight of her wanton enjoyment of his body almost too sexy to bear. He was afraid he would lose control at the sight of her smooth skin in the soft early morning light.

She started to move, opening her legs wide to draw him deep inside her. He grasped at her hips to guide her movements over him, to slow down the exquisite sensations that threatened to push him beyond the limit of his control and send him spiraling into the abyss. He wanted this to last. If this never happened again, he wanted to take this memory away with him. It was beyond anything he had ever experienced.

He caressed the length of her legs and up her back, her skin like silk under his hands.

Her face was a picture of wild abandon as she suddenly slammed down, surprising a moan from him. Her lips were slightly parted, allowing her breath to come in short gasps as he filled her. When she opened slumberous eyes, she looked at him with an acceptance and longing that he had never seen on the face of another human being. The pressure in his chest became almost painful. He knew a moment of aching for something he could not have and the pain was exquisite torture. He thrust his hips upward to meet her.

Her eyes widened then closed again and she threw back her head in a convulsive movement that shuddered through her body. He felt the ripple of her orgasm as she pulsed rhythmically around him, squeezing his shaft with a rush of wetness. It was too much for his overloaded senses. Feeling the now familiar tightening, with a grunt of satisfaction he found his release, spurting his pleasure deep inside her, riding the waves of her orgasm at the same time, allowing it to intensify his. With the physical release came a swelling of emotion from deep within him. There was a moment when nothing existed but the two of them.

She collapsed breathlessly onto his chest and he held her tight, stroking her hair as his heart pounded under her ear.

It was several minutes before either of them could move. Eventually Hermione levered herself away, gently disengaging herself. She looked at him with wonder and an indescribable emotion. He watched her eyes fill with tears.

The expression on his face once again became shuttered. He rolled away to one side of the bed and laid still, his back to her.

********

Hermione desperately wanted to feel his arms about her but her confusion and the strange overwhelming pressure in her chest stopped her. There were too many unexpected things. Too much had happened in too short a time, and this overwhelming man was at the centre of it. Her emotions finally caught up with her and within minutes she was asleep.

When the first light of dawn woke her, Severus was nowhere to be seen. Wrapping a robe about her naked body, she wandered into the bathroom to brush her teeth and make an attempt to tame her hair. Realising it was a hopeless case she dropped her robe and wand and stepped into the shower instead. At least if she washed it and applied a drying charm, it would be manageable.

An hour later, dressed in her school uniform, she made her way downstairs to find Severus. She was eager to see the man who had shared one of the most amazing experiences of her young life.

It was still very early. He was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. The house-elf was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning,” she smiled at him.

He looked up, one eyebrow raised at her choice of clothing, but did not answer. Perhaps he’s not much of a morning person, she thought indulgently.

Sitting herself opposite him, she went to pour herself a cup of the brew from the pot on the table. Before she had even touched her empty cup, he had risen from the table and moved to stand at the window instead, as though getting as far away from her as possible. Frowning slightly, Hermione watched him. There was something not quite right here.

“Severus?”

He ignored her.

“Are you alright?”

His back was rigid and he did not reply.

Hermione got to her feet and moved to where he stood. When she reached her hand out to touch his arm, he stepped away and returned to the table.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at his retreat.

Collecting her coffee, Hermione made to leave the kitchen. She stopped at the door and looked back at him.

“I thought, after last night, we might actually be on the same team.” Shaking her head in disappointment, she left the room with a frustrated sigh.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting on a wooden bench in the back garden, shredding twigs between her fingers and wondering how she got her self into such a bizarre position. If someone had told her a week ago that she would be bedded by Severus Snape, Death Eater, spy and all round snark, she would have thought they’d been hit by a Confundus jinx. Now here she was, in exactly that place, and things were looking decidedly rocky.

A shadow fell across her. “You cried,” his voice was clipped.

Hermione frowned. She was angry and annoyed, but he hadn’t made her cry yet. She shook her head, “I’m not crying.”

“Not now. Then…this morning, after…”

Still frowning, Hermione tried to work out what he meant. “No, I didn’t. What are you talking about?”

“After you…after we…” he took a furious breath and tried again. “After we finished you started crying. I will not—” he broke off suddenly, clenching his fists.

“I started crying? Rubbish,” she declared, getting to her feet and brushing the shredded twigs from her skirt. “I may have gotten a bit emotional…well, who wouldn’t? I had just experienced the most incredible—” she broke off with a blush. “Well, a girl is entitled to a bit of emotion occasionally. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, I suppose. I never really expected things would turn out so…good.” She bit her lip, stopping the rambling flow of words. “But I wasn’t crying.”

Severus stared at her. His black eyes were unreadable.

He took a small step towards her, watching her reaction intently. When she neither retreated nor flinched, he took another step. When he reached for her, she went into his arms willingly, raising her face to his to meet his lips without question. He pulled her to him and kissed her, the lingering frustration, rejection and anger he had been feeling manifesting in the strength of his embrace.

Hermione wrapped her arms about his neck, threaded her fingers through his hair, and held him close. Her mouth was warm and willing. She didn’t understand this complex man, but she wanted to. That unnamable emotion rose up in her chest again, making her heart pound and her stomach hurt. A rush of wet heat between her legs took her by surprise.

When he broke the kiss, she leaned back in the circle of his arms, her hands still clasped at his neck and looked thoughtfully at him.

Gone was the distant stranger she had greeted that morning. Gone was the snarling Potions Master. Now she saw Severus, the man, with all his flaws and vulnerabilities, and his strengths and skills too. Here was her lover, her husband, perhaps even her friend. Even if only for today.

“It bothered me that I made you cry,” he admitted at last, pulling her against him and resting his chin on the top of her head.

Hermione pulled back and looked at him in wonderment. “Women sometimes cry when they are happy, you know.”

“You were happy?” One eyebrow lifted in disbelief.

Hermione blushed. “Well, yes,” she admitted, “considering how all this came about; I was expecting…well, I wasn’t really expecting to enjoy any of it.”

“But you did.”

“Yes… more than you could possibly imagine.” Her blush deepened and she bit her lip again. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Oh, I think I might have some idea,” he drawled.

“Really?” Hope blossomed on her face.

He nodded.

She grinned at him in relief; the ache in her chest was overwhelming. She looked into his face; the shuttered look had left him. He was still tense, but he was at least talking to her now. His expression made her want to hug him and erase the hurt he had felt. She wanted to experience his touch again. The ache in her groin intensified.

“Want to make me cry again?” she raised a cheeky eyebrow in question.

He looked at her, nonplussed, as her meaning sank in. Seconds later, she shrieked in delighted surprise as he swept her up into his arms and carried her back into the house.

*********

“We have to be at Hogwarts soon.” He kissed her one final time before untangling himself, and getting out of bed.

Hermione watched him pad naked into the bathroom without a backward glance. She smiled as she set about picking up her school uniform from where he had discarded it on the floor a short time earlier.

Fifteen minutes later, they were dressed and ready to floo into Dumbledore’s office.

“Headmaster,” Severus greeted the old man.

“Good morning, Professor,” chimed Hermione.

“Ah, Severus, Hermione, how lovely. Well, this turned out rather well, all things considered.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” Severus replied evenly. “And now everything can return to the way it was.”

Hermione’s glance was confused. It was only supposed to be the one time, but something special had happened, something wonderful. And she was expected to pretend it hadn’t? They were married, weren’t they?

“And what exactly were you planning to do with me?” she demanded of Severus, ignoring the Headmaster’s presence.

“You can return to whatever it was you were doing before this happened,” he said. The Potions master was back.

“Just like that?” she asked.

“Just like that.” Even his voice had resumed its snarky tone.

The Headmaster suddenly found a crack in the stone floor to be of extraordinary interest. Neither of them noticed.

Hermione stared at Severus as though he had grown an extra head. Then her eyes narrowed. What was it the Headmaster had said? Oh yes, that he’ll likely push me away regardless of how he really feels. I think I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. The bastard thinks he can discard me just like that, does he?

Forcing her face into a bright smile, Hermione nodded at her reluctant lover.

“Right-oh, then. Well, I had best be off to class. You can have my bag delivered from Spinner’s End to my dormitory. Thank you for a lovely weekend, Professor,” she beamed at him.

She watched as a myriad of emotions flickered over his face. Confusion, anger, hurt and finally a dim resignation. She thought that calling him ‘Professor’ when she didn’t have to, had been a particularly effective thrust. She didn’t mind hurting him just a little. She planned to make it up to him later. This was just to teach him that he couldn’t treat her like her feelings didn’t count, and as if she had no say in how her life would be run.

She turned away from the stiff-lipped Potions Master and bid Professor Dumbledore good morning. Severus didn’t see the little wink she tipped the old Professor as she gaily tripped out of his office.

By the time she made it to Transfiguration, however, she practically had smoke coming out her ears. So he thought he could be her dream lover and then throw her back into the classroom where he found her? Marry her and then send her back to her dormitory? She’d show him that there was more to Gryffindor courage than the stupidity to save an ungrateful man’s life!

The day moved painfully slowly. Classes dragged on and Hermione had no glimpse of the stubborn wretch all day, as he avoided the Great Hall altogether, even at dinner.

Professor McGonagall had taken her aside at the evening meal. That conversation had been most enlightening. Apparently Severus had stormed out of the Headmaster’s office after she’d gone, terrorized his first and second year classes so badly that several students went to the Hospital Wing afterwards for calming draughts, had skipped all his meals, snarled at every person who had greeted him that day and then locked himself in his chambers directly after his last class. He was presently refusing to answer the door. McGonagall’s main complaint was that they were all waiting for him to assist Hagrid in dealing with the Dementor believed to be lurking in the Forbidden Forest. After Hagrid’s sojourn in Azkaban, she explained, he apparently wasn’t prepared to face the creature alone.

Hermione smiled, unconcerned with Dementors. So Severus wasn’t as indifferent as he had pretended. Well, he’d be glad to see her then, wouldn’t he?

Right now, only Harry and Ron were glad to see her back.

“So you’ve chucked the loser over then, now that he’s had his fun?” Ron asked her hopefully.

“Of course not, Ronald,” Hermione snapped. “However, he happens to be due a lesson, which I shall be delivering at the first possible opportunity.”

Ron’s face fell and he asked no more questions.

Hermione retired to her dormitory at 9pm, put on her pyjamas, said goodnight to the girls and got into her bed, closing the curtains tightly around her bed. After ten minutes, when the room had settled down, she plumped up her pillows to resemble a body under the blankets and activated her ring.

“Duos fio unus.”

**************

Severus was fit to be tied. When he’d made the comment that morning, he had expected her to fight, or cry, or yell. He hadn’t expected her to say “thank you Professor” and happily wander off to class. Clearly he had been mistaken about what had occurred between them.

It had thrown him. The emptiness in his chest after she had walked out had made it impossible to control his temper and the day had subsequently been an utter loss. He hadn’t trusted himself to go and speak to her when all he really wanted to do was pick her up and drag her off to his chamber like some demented, oversexed troll. He wasn’t sure he could face her anyway. The memory of her calling him “Professor” again, struck him in the gut like a fist.

Although he wasn’t sure what he expected her to call him. They had returned to school where she was once more student to his teacher. And yet it felt wrong that she might call him “Sir” again, especially since the memory of her sighing his name as they lay naked together was so fresh in his mind.

She was his equal, in more ways than he cared to think. Yes, she was still young, yet her maturity was more than apparent and he wanted her. He may damn his eternal, black soul, but he wanted her. Only she wasn’t his. Not really. She had walked away without a backward glance as soon as freedom was offered, walked straight back to her classes and her friends without any concern for him. It had torn the heart out of him – the heart he hadn’t realised she had owned until it had shattered on the floor of the Headmaster’s office.

His throat tightened. What the hell was this awful, overwhelming feeling? Why did it hurt just to think about her? Why did he want to smash the face of any man who even looked sideways at her? He wanted to hold her, cherish her, protect her, make her laugh just for him, and see her blush when he took her to his bed. He wanted to sit by the fire and watch her read, and argue with her over the latest journals. He wanted to keep her. He was happy just being near her.

The sentimentality of his thoughts made him grimace, but he couldn’t deny they were true. He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her.

Make love.

That phrase took on a whole new meaning as it spun around Severus’ agitated brain.

Make love.

He wanted to make love to Hermione.

Love.

Is this what love feels like? he pondered morosely. This sensation of wanting to give up everything you have just to see a smile light up her face?

Severus had never been in love. He had had a crush on Lily Evans, his first real friend. He had thought that was love but this feeling was entirely different. It made him feel open and vulnerable, and yet it also made him feel strong. He felt he could move mountains if she ever needed it. It was a strange sensation, but at last he could put a name to the emotions that had been building in him ever since she had stood in front of the Order and defended him to the world.

I love Hermione Granger.

He wondered if he would ever get the opportunity to hold her again, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he had the courage to reveal his new discovery and open himself to her ridicule. He cursed his own stupidity. If he had just kept his mouth shut, he might have had a chance. Now he was just a dismal old man lusting after a woman half his age. It was embarrassing. Worse, it was pathetic.

**************

A sharp tug at her navel followed by a squeezing sensation dropped her instantly into the Potions master’s bedchamber deep in the bowels of Hogwarts. Her knees almost gave way as she hit the carpeted stone floor of his bed chamber. Portkey was not her favourite mode of transportation.

He had been lying fully clothed on his bed when she appeared out of thin air. He leapt up, grabbing for his wand, only to find a scantily clad Hermione standing there, hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot.

She looked down at the ring that had brought her to him. “Well, that was not exactly the use I had in mind when we bought them, but,” she shrugged, “whatever works.”

“Why are you here, Miss Granger,” he demanded, slumping back onto the bed. It appeared she had given him quite a fright. The magic of the ring had completely overridden the wards he had in place.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. She moved over to where he sat and poked him hard in the chest.

“It’s Hermione, thank you very much,” she told him. “Although since you have had your brilliantly wicked way with me…more than once, I might add… you may call me anything you like...APART from Miss Granger.”

He sighed. “Why are you here, Hermione,” he tried again, averting his eyes from the semi-transparent nightdress that barely covered her.

“Something happened between us.” She was suddenly serious. “I don’t know what it was, but I’d like to find out.”

His eyes flared. There was a look on his face that she had never seen before. She could only call it hope. The sight made her mad. He had put her through hell today and apparently it wasn’t what he actually wanted.

“So, you have precisely three seconds to kiss me before I change my mind and hex you into tomorrow for what you did to me this morning,” she told him sternly, “and it won’t be pretty.”

He snorted in disbelief.

“One,” she began, tapping her wand threateningly against her leg.

He didn’t move.

“Two,” she warned. She lifted her wand and pointed it straight at his chest.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Thr -”

He pounced. Before she could complete the count, he had swung her off-balance and onto the bed. When she stopped moving it was because he had pinned her, quite effectively, to the mattress. Her wand was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you threatening me, Miss Granger?” The way he said it sent shivers down her spine.

Hermione’s ire dissolved.

“I’m promising you,” she told him, her heart in her eyes, “and it’s Mrs. Snape.” The look he gave her could have melted stone.

His mouth claimed hers. They had gotten awfully skilled at this kissing business and he proceeded to show her just how good.

His head lifted after several minutes. His eyes were glazed with his arousal.

“Can I stay then?” she asked him, panting slightly.

“Do you want to?” Always answering a question with a question. If he ever directly said ‘I want you’, she’d probably faint from shock.

She nodded, and then added mischievously, “Lavender snores much worse than you do, so I’d rather sleep here – it’s quieter.”

He raised an eyebrow and then chuckled; well it was more of a harrumph really, when she wrinkled her nose at him. She wriggled under his weight, rubbing against him in all sorts of interesting places. He stopped laughing instantly.

“You’re not allowed to try to get rid of me any more,” she scolded him, her voice serious.

“And what would you have me do?” His face tightened. “Hold your hand about the castle?”

Her stomach lurched. “Are you ashamed of me?”

Something flared in his eyes. For a horrible moment she thought he was going to say Yes! But then he shook his head.

“It’s just complicated, Hermione. You are still a student of this school.” Relief flooded through her. So it wasn’t her that he objected to.

“So, I’ll sit my NEWTs a few weeks early just like we discussed. It seems pretty straightforward to me,” she told him.

“You would really do that for me?” he asked.

“Of course!” she said.

He kissed her for that answer.

“I’ll speak to the Headmaster,” he said, “though I am still not going to hold your hand about the school.”

“Fine, but in the meantime, you still have an apology to make for trying to leave me this morning,” she pouted.

He smiled slowly and nipped at her protruding lower lip. “Didn’t do me any good, did it?”

“Of course not, you forgot to read the fine print. A Gryffindor is for life,” she told him.

“A Slytherin always reads the fine print,” he pointed out.

“Oh, well, in that case you definitely owe me an apology since you were knowingly trying to shirk your duty, so you had better make it a good one.”

“As my lady commands.”

He nibbled at her neck, tasting the tender spot just below her ear. She shivered and wrapped her arms around him. His muscles rippled under her hands as he shifted on the bed.

Tugging her into a sitting position, he pulled the pale blue nightie over her head and let it slither into a delicate heap on the floor. She was naked…in his bed. The Potions master’s rooms had never seen a naked woman before today…and a naked student at that. It was a delicious, wicked moment.

Impatient to be near her, he grabbed his wand and with a silent swish and flick, his clothes melted away leaving him naked in the candlelight. With a deft swoop she was back in his arms again. Back where she belonged.

“That’s a neat Charm. You must teach me,” she admired his handiwork.

“It only works on your own clothes,” his mouth curved into an odd smile, “otherwise people would go around undressing other people for fun.”

“Oh, well in that case, never mind. I much prefer the old-fashioned method, anyway,” she shrugged. It caused her skin to slide against his, distracting him.

His hands found her breasts, curving against their soft heat. He tasted the sweetness of her mouth, his tongue stroking hers with languorous pleasure. Nipping at her swollen lips, he trailed hot, wet kisses along her neck to the hollow of her throat.

She gasped as his mouth circled one breast, laving its pebbled tip, the air cooling the path his heated tongue had made. He suckled one full breast, sending a wave of pleasure arrowing through her. Desire licked along her senses in hot waves.

His fingers sought her moist centre and she opened to him, once again feeling the exquisite pleasure only his touch could bring her. She was drowning in the sensations of his seeking hands and mouth.

He wanted to know every inch of her silky skin. Touch every curve with his fingers, with his lips, with his tongue. He wanted to feel her, to taste her. She was exquisite.

Her breathing was erratic and his tongue traced a wet pathway across her stomach, making her tremble beneath him.

“Hermione, I want to…” he was planting gentle kisses on her belly, as he moved to rest between her parted thighs. She bit her lip as she realised what he was asking.

“I’ve never…”

“Nor I, but I’d like to – with your permission.” His eyes were filled with infinite promise.

She nodded mutely, her breath catching in her chest as he smiled and inched lower in the bed.

He kissed the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and settled his shoulders between her knees. The anticipation was agonizing. He trailed one finger along her petal-soft folds. She was so wet. It made him hard just thinking about it. He dipped his head again and kissed the top of her cleft. She gasped as his tongue flickered out to take his first taste of her juices.

Kissing her so intimately made Severus burn. She tensed and moaned with every swipe of his tongue, and her taste and scent filled his senses. He savored her every gasp, discovering exactly how she like to be stroked and where she was most sensitive. He delighted in her pleasure.

Her breath was ragged. “Please, Severus, I need you.”

His heart leapt. He left a trail of kisses the length of her body, coming to lay his full length against her. She clung to him, desperate for release from the sweet torment that possessed her. She wrapped her legs about his waist, arching against him.

She was beautiful in her passion. Breathing hard, he slid inside her, swallowing her gasp of delight with his kiss. She was tight and wet. His jaw clenched as he tried to maintain his control.

She urged him on, tilting her hips to allow him to penetrate deeply. He filled her over and over, thrusting hot and hard within her, surrendering to her urgent need. His movements became wild and erratic as he plunged into her eager sex, her slick heat swallowing him in a rhythmic dance of sensation.

He heard her gasp as she came in rippling spasms. She cried out, a beautiful sound that swelled his chest with pure masculine pride, as she rode the waves of her orgasm. He abandoned all control, losing himself in the pleasure of her body. Buried deep inside her, with a great cry, he stiffened as he found his release.

His face was buried in the curve of her neck. She was sleepily twining her fingers in his hair as they caught their breath.

He went to move, but she held him still, her legs still wrapped about him.

“Don’t,” she whispered, “I like holding you.”

He raised his head, creating pressure on her sensitive flesh that made her breath catch. She smiled at him. A warm, burgeoning smile that lit her eyes and warmed his soul.

He captured her lips in a gentle kiss.

After a few minutes, she relaxed her hold, allowing him to roll onto his back, taking her with him. He wrapped his arms about her and as she snuggled into his embrace, he kissed the top of her head.

“Severus?”

“Hmm?”

“Apology accepted.”

He smiled into her hair, soft against his cheek. He held her a bit tighter as they both fell into a contented sleep. Maybe he was going to get that second chance after all.
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Kiss The Serpent