Hermione was a little drunk, and she was really rather giving her brain the evening off. If she hadn't been a little drunk she would never have agreed to play spin the bottle. And now she was stuck playing spin the bottle because she didn't think she would be able to get up off the floor. For once though, she was determined to enjoy herself. Voldemort was dead, and the survivors were now celebrating at Grimmauld Place. Hermione didn't feel too guilty about her bad behaviour, as even Minerva was a little tipsy and technically she stopped being a Hogwarts student at midnight.

She had kissed Ron, Harry and Dean Thomas so far. Ron had tried to stick his tongue down her throat, which hadn't been very pleasant. Now it was her turn again. She just hoped the bottle didn't stop on Ron.

Unfortunately it stopped precisely half way between Ron and Harry.

"It's closer to me than Harry," said Ron, reaching across the circle to Hermione.

"Actually," said Lavender, "It's pointing towards Professor Snape. Go on, I dare you!" Her friends all began to egg her on, apart from Draco who commented that she wouldn't have the nerve.

"All right then, I will." Hermione got to her feet and, very carefully, walked over to where Professor Snape was standing talking to Minerva and tugged at his sleeve.

"What do you want, Miss Granger?" he snapped.

"I want to kiss you," she said, hoping she wasn't slurring too much.

She had the immense pleasure of rendering Snape speechless.

Minerva took in the scene behind her with one glance, and smiled broadly. "Now, now, Severus. Be a good sport and kiss Miss Granger. The bottle landed on you fair and square."

Snape still hadn't found the power of speech when Draco called out, "and no tongues, Professor."

Hermione was puzzled. She turned round to peer at her friends. "No, that's not right, because Ron used tongues." She turned back to face Snape. "Tongues ARE allowed," she said firmly.

She didn't like the gleam in Snape's eyes, but it was too late to back out now. "Well, in that case," he murmured, and put his hands on her shoulders to pull her closer to him. Her friends were all sniggering in the background as he bent his head to kiss her.

Hermione could feel the warmth of him, and the surprising strength in his fingers which grasped her. His lips touched hers gently, retreated slightly, and then settled against her mouth. For a moment she felt nothing more than the mechanics of the kiss. Then she was surprised to find her nerves thrumming with some strong emotion. By rights she should be feeling disgust, as she had done when Ron had assaulted her mouth. She couldn't identify the sensation, it was nothing she had felt before, and being the curious girl that she was she decided to collect more data.

She moved subtly closer to the Professor, and slightly opened her mouth beneath his. His hand shifted from her shoulder, to tangle with her hair at the base of her neck. His long fingers moved in delicate circles on her neck, which caused shivers to run down her spine.

He persisted in a simple kiss. She had the vague idea that tongues were not only allowed but compulsory - so if he wasn't going to take the hint, she would have to take matters into her own hands. His mouth opened beneath her tentative probing, and she traced the outline of his lips before teasing the roof of his mouth.

She moved closer still and could feel something hard pressing into her. It was his . she couldn't think of the right word to describe it. It wasn't a willy. Ron had a willy. Harry had a willy. They were boys. Professor Snape was very obviously a man. He didn't have a willy, he had a . a.. cock.

She gave a little whimper. Abruptly she was free.

"I apologise Miss Granger," he said stiffly, turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

Hermione stood staring after him in shock. What was that all about?

She had to find out. Telling her friends she was off to get another drink - to wash the taste of Snape out of her mouth according to Ron - she followed the Professor into the next room.

He was standing in the middle of the room with his back to her and was staring at the fire. She rather thought his face would have the same expression it had just before he deducted points or gave detention. The fire was probably quaking in its grate.

"What are you apologising for?" she asked him.

He turned and looked at her with annoyance, not believing that she could be that stupid. "For the kiss, Miss Granger," he said impatiently.

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

"Well you don't have to worry, I thought it was a very nice kiss."

"You did?... I mean, that isn't the point, I shouldn't have kissed you at all."

"But you didn't kiss me, I kissed you," she said very carefully. He didn't seem to be making any sense.

"Very well, I shouldn't have allowed you to kiss me," he snapped. "You are a student, and it was utterly inappropriate."

"What time is it?"

"Half past midnight," he said, getting increasingly bewildered.

"I stopped being your student at midnight. So, we have established that you don't have to apologise for your technique, you don't have to apologise for kissing me, and you don't have to apologise for letting me kiss you. She paused. "Do you want to know what I think you should be apologising for?" As she spoke, she drew ever closer to Severus until the backs of his knees hit an armchair. He looked wary, and she was amused by the thought that she had managed to worry him.



"I'm sorry?" he said, astonished.

"Apology accepted. Don't do it again." Before he could explain that that wasn't what he meant at all Miss Granger, she had pushed him sharply. Off balance he fell backwards into the chair and Hermione followed him down. She stifled any protests by kissing him, and any resistance was quickly overcome.

Celebration - Chapter two

There was an awkward moment whilst they sorted out a comfortable position in which to continue kissing without actually breaking lip contact. Hermione ended up sitting in Severus lap, her legs over the arms of the chair, pulled tight against his body. Her head was supported by one hand tangled in her hair, and the other hand was stroking her hip.

Periodically he would raise his head and attempt to say something to Hermione. Whatever it was it couldn't be as interesting as kissing her, so he never got much further than, "Miss Granger." before she managed to cut him off. He really was so much nicer when he had his mouth too full of her tongue to speak or, indeed, when she had her mouth full of his tongue. For once in her life Hermione thought talking was distinctly over-rated.

The constant interruptions were getting to be a little annoying though - just as she felt herself sinking into deep water she would find herself being dragged up into the shallows. Perhaps if she let him finish whatever it was that he had to say ..

"Miss Granger." he mumbled against her lips.

She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Hermione."

"Wh.what?" he stammered, his higher brain function hindered by her warm breath tickling his ear.

"Hermione. My name is Hermione. Under the present circumstances a little informality is permissible, don't you think."

For a second his mind was blank. She was sucking on his ear lobe, and one hand had burrowed into his robes and was resting on his bare chest. What was the question again? Never mind, he had a question of his own.

"Hermione, how much have you had to drink?"

She stopped doing that marvellous thing she was doing to his ear with her tongue. "Why?"

"Because I think you might have had too much to drink, and I wouldn't want you to do something you might regret in the morning."

"I won't regret it, I promise."

"It's just the drink talking," he said sadly. "If you weren't drunk, you would never kiss your git of a Potions Master."

"It's not just the drink. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to do this?" she asked, punctuating her words with nipping kisses along his neck. His head lolled back to give her better access.

"Ermm, no." His concentration was fading, who the hell cared why she was doing what she was doing as long as she continued doing it.

"Since the beginning of my seventh year."


"Oh yes. I would sit in class and look at your long fingers and imagine them touching me, running all over my body."

He whimpered. In an attempt to recover his dignity he went on gruffly, "Anything else?"

He almost wished he hadn't asked as she seductively whispered a litany of debauched acts to him. The last one caught his attention.

"Good god," he said weakly, "that's not physically possible." He paused for a moment. She seemed to have spent a lot of time thinking about this. He appreciated her attention to detail before now, but, if anyone was going to find a way, it would be her. "Is it?" he asked plaintively.

She nodded. "Two words. Levitation charm."

The fact that she had been thinking such lecherous thoughts in his potions class was a sop to his conscience. The fact that she had apparently sat down with the wizard's Kama Sutra and worked out a way of putting even some of the more advanced positions into practice was more of an encouragement to give her theories a rigorous and thorough practical examination. There was no way she could be described as innocent if that is what she had been thinking about. Still he had to ask.

"You're not a virgin are you?" he quavered. Please god, let the answer be no. If she was still a virgin he couldn't let her first time be a drunken grope with her ex-Professor. He had some morals.

"Of course not, don't be silly!"

"Thank God," he breathed. His hands started on the buttons of her blouse, and then parted it to reveal her breasts. What on earth was she wearing beneath it?

She went back to nibbling along his neck, easing his collar open for better access. He was certainly going to have marks there tomorrow. He didn't mind, it would be some sort of souvenir of this wonderful evening.

"Hermione, do you have some vampire in you?" he smirked.

"Not yet," she muttered. He looked puzzled, but there were more important things to worry about at this precise moment in time. How did these infernal muggle contractions called bras actually work?

He had never been a patient man, and he just couldn't be bothered waiting. He scrabbled in his pocket, drew out his wand, and sent the offending article flying through the air. Much better. Muggles had gone up in his estimation - they managed to do that without magic.

"So that was a wand in your pocket," she said in a disappointed tone.

"Yes, but I've got a much bigger one hidden elsewhere. Why don't you look for it?" It's a good job she's drunk, he thought, I'd never get away with a line that if she was sober. Fortunately, although her critical faculties were dulled, she still managed to find her way to his fly. A couple of deft twists and his buttons were open, and her hand was finding its way to a place where it was definitely welcome.

"You're right, it is much bigger", she smirked.

He smirked back and bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth.

Suddenly they could hear something that wiped the smile of both their faces - voices coming towards them. She was sitting on his lap, wearing no shirt or bra and playing find the wand in his trousers. He couldn't think of an innocent explanation for what they were doing, because there was no innocent explanation for what they were doing.

Unless he could think of something quickly, in two minutes or less they would be caught red handed.