It was, perhaps, the longest trip on the Hogwarts train she could ever remember. Going back and forth from London to Hogsmead was a long trip, but the magical feat of taking the train from Hogsmead to Beauxbatons in the southeast of France would take just a bit more time.

Of course, as she yawned discreetly behind her hand into the crowded teacher's compartment, magic would seem to be able to shorten that trip, as well, but—she sighed and looked out the window to the darkening landscape as they approached London—the train wizards had apparently only thought out their magic so far.

Her heavy eyelids blinked as her vision wobbled. Then again, she wasn't in much of a state to rethink their magic, herself, Charms Mistress or not.

Oh, Lord and Lady, why did she have to volunteer to be a chaperone for the newest attempt to rehash the Triwizard Tournament? She leaned her head up against the compartment wall and shifted slightly away from the wizard pressed up against her side. They could have at least refused to bring so very many Ministry officials on the train. They crowded the small refreshment compartment usually reserved for the teachers and caused poor Severus to take haven beside her. He'd even asked for the window seat, but like hell she'd give up that advantage. At least their small table was facing away from the others, towards the rear of the train.

She yawned again and settled in against the wall.

She was just drifting off into the landscape of her mind, when Severus' sinuous voice poured through her senses, "While I might understand your penchant to fall asleep beside the most formidable dueler in the room in a compartment full of incompetents on the way to an event fraught with danger, I might also suggest you'd be more comfortable in your own compartment."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she kept her eyes closed, "Bugger off, Snape, you can't have the window seat."

It didn't even phase him, "Oh, come now. You'll get a crick in your neck and then woe betide the rest of us when we arrive in the morning."

He made everything sound so dramatic! She cut her eyes quickly to him and smirked, "Our most formidable dueler is afraid of little, old, grumpy me?" She snorted, most inelegantly, "I find that hard to believe." She shifted her hips, slightly, and was too tired to care when she heard a sharp inhalation from her seat partner. So what, if their legs brushed? The damned seat was too small for her hips and his legs.

A loud, guffawing laugh rang out behind her and she opened her eyes to glare into the reflection of the window in front of them, revealing the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports doubling over in laughter at apparently something his companion had said. "God," she sighed, "Ron can be so annoying, sometimes."

It was Severus' turn to snort, "Sometimes?"

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head towards him, "Shut it. He's still one of my best friends."

"I have no idea why," was his deadpan response.

"Just because he put a stopper in your spotty refereeing career, doesn't mean you can bash him all you like."

His hand flew to his chest and his eyes grew in fake effrontery, "I? Bash? How dare you suggest I behave in such a Gryffindor manner. I'm much more subtle than that." He dropped his hand to cross them over his chest. "Besides, I enjoyed refereeing when Rolanda retired. There was no true reason for him to unseat me."

No true reason—! "Right, because looking the other way whenever Slytherin fouled, but making up infractions for any of their opponents was completely unbiased. Also, hexing Ron's tea into espresso so he turns into a buzzing mess just before going in front of the Daily Prophet to announce the new Triwizard Tournament was absolutely subtle."

"It was."

"You're slipping, then. I saw you do all of it."

"Perhaps you think I'm obvious, but you're the only one who ever notices."

Before her brain could register that remark, she'd sat up with a whine and turned to face her friend of almost six months. That still gave her pause, but she was one to treat everyone equally, and that meant even Severus got it when she was tired. "Please? Can't I just take a nap?"

His lightly playful banter had been hidden behind a closed face, but she could tell she'd slighted him. She could see the teasing sparkle shutter away as he straightened in his seat. "My apologies. I shall not bother you again. Good evening."

Gah! He was so sensitive! If she thought it would get her anywhere, she'd compare him to Ron, but it wouldn't...except perhaps for him to back away from her completely. Before he moved to slip out of their shared seat, she darted her hand out to his sleeve, effectively pinning him down with a feather light touch.

He looked from her hand up to her face with a very high eyebrow.

"You can stay here. In fact, I'd prefer it."

Both eyebrows lifted high and he shifted his knees back towards her. "Why on earth would you prefer that?"

She coquettishly batted her eyelashes and quirked a small smile up to him, removing her hand from his sleeve to tuck beside her face against the wall. "Because you're the most formidable dueler in a room full of incompetents." At that, she closed her eyes, feigning victory, but she was really straining her hearing to see if he would stay or not.

She tried very hard to hide her smile behind another yawn as soon as she felt him settle in beside her.


Severus sighed into his tea, intensely aware of the sleeping witch beside him. He'd bet good Galleons that she had no idea the effect she had on him, and would even go so far as to wager she'd never even thought of him as anything other than a friend.

Not that she should, he supposed.

The problem with that being he was absolutely infatuated with her. It was ridiculous, really, the way his affections disarmed him and set sights for Hermione. He was, of course, intensely thankful that it had been a respectable number of years since she'd graduated, or whatever they called the certificate she received for completing her studies after the war. What he wasn't thankful for, however, was the growing itch to get ever closer to her.

He couldn't sleep, some nights, for thinking over and rethinking every conversation they'd ever had, analysing it for any possible revelation of her feelings for him. So far, all he'd been able to absolutely determine was that she liked him as well as Potter or Weasley, which was absolutely confounding and terribly infuriating.

But he settled for it, just like before.

Thankfully, there was little to nil chance of her being snatched away by either rival for her affections, as they were both happily married off. It still irked him at the thought of Potter and Miss Weasley. She looked too much like his mum, and he could only think that perhaps young Potter had a bit of an Oedipus complex.

Young Weasley, however, proved true to his roots and married another ginger, the Bones girl. He shuddered at the thought of another brood of Weasleys gamboling about the halls of Hogwarts in ten years' time, but such was life. Perhaps he could find another occupation by then.

He glanced over to his seat-partner and thought, rather despairingly, that if she were there at Hogwarts in ten years' time, so would he be—regardless of the impending threat of ginger Gryffindors. Another round of drunken laughter broke his reverie and he set his tea on the table in front of them in order to turn around and assess the crowd.

It truly was a press, and they were all intently focused on some sort of drinking game Weasley had introduced. Fat lot of silly beggers, they all were. Worse than teenagers.

He was chanting invectives in his head and settling back into his seat, when Hermione suddenly giggled.

He turned his head, interested at what she'd found so funny, only to find her still sleeping. A sibilant sound escaped before she grazed her bottom lip with her teeth, and he could have sworn it was the same shape as his name leaving her mouth. Interested, he shifted slightly closer, straining to find out if she'd say it again.

Happily, she did whisper again, and it was more interesting that he'd thought, "Severus!...Naughty..."

His hand tightened on the seat backer and his eyebrows flew to his hairline. Naughty? His eyes dropped down her body and back up, but quickly detoured back downward as they registered her decolletage. With her hands pressed up to the side of her head, she'd created quite a lovely and gaping valley in the front of her robes, where he could see quite clearly the color of her muggle brassiere.


Of course it was.

He sat back in his seat and thought she was probably wearing golden knickers, to boot. He shifted to adjust his trousers. He had no business thinking of her undergarments, especially in a public room with idiots nearby. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and considered a privacy charm, at least until his 'interest' flagged, when Hermione made another noise.

This one was no giggle. Her delicious moan tore through his senses and speared down his spine, directly to his penis.

He whispered under his breath, "Christ, what did you do that for?" He whipped out his wand, wishing he really could 'whip out his wand', and furtively cast a privacy charm for sound and sight. Onlookers would only see vague shapes and hear a slight buzzing noise, but thinking about what the Ministry idiots were doing behind his back, they'd probably only hear and see that anyway.

Drunken sods.

He looked back over to her and paid attention, eager to see what would happen next. She was obviously dreaming, but about what? He blushed to think it might be him. He blushed harder to think, from the evidence of her thighs rubbing together in her seat, that it was, perhaps, sexual in nature.


Hermione's mind liked to drift during her naps, often to subjects her waking mind urgently suppressed. Once such drift was happening now, and she was caught in the eddy of a deliciously detailed fantasy of Severus, banging the door to her office and locking it behind himself before stalking, quite purposefully, towards her desk.

He stripped off his teaching robes and his frock coat, leaving him in white shirtsleeves and a black vest atop his black trousers. She sat back in her chair, cocking her head at his unusual behavior.

His large, beautiful hands came down to the back of her leather desk chair, one to each side of her head. She stared up at him, breathlessly giggled at the insanity of the impossible situation before her, and spoke, 'Severus?'

Obsidian eyes turned molten and raked up and down her body, 'I'm tired of the games, Hermione. I want you. Right here, right now.'

Her blood raced at such a declaration. "Severus! In my office? That's so...Naughty!" She smiled up at him to show her ecstatic approval.

He smiled at back at her, which was a beautiful sight to behold, and she blinked at the rare beauty of his happy face. Standing up into his embrace, she kissed his mouth as she'd wanted to do for months.

It was divine. His hands coasted along her body, searching for the openings to her robes and finding them...She moaned and slipped her hands into the waist of his trousers, yanking it towards her and accidentally popping a few of his buttons in the process.

He snarled into her mouth and lifted her up onto the desk, pressing between her legs and into the web of her skirts...


She moaned again and shifted, pressing her soft, curvy thigh against his leg, and he couldn't help but moan with her. His was slightly less elegant to his ears.

To his everlasting surprise, she moved her hand. It wasn't really that she'd moved it, but it was more of a shock as to where she'd moved it: his lap. Via her breast.

She'd taken one hand from cushioning her face, ran it down her pert breast, over the lovely turn of her hip, and onto his thigh, her fingers precariously close to his erection.

Which, of course, made things more interesting and difficult at the same time. Shouldn't he shift away? Move her hand? Wake her up? Something decent?

His mind screamed at him to behave, but blood was currently being re-routed elsewhere and the message didn't quite take. An urge, however, was quickly forming, itching against his hand.

Dare he return her gesture?

Her arm was effectively pinning his down between them, so in a remote sense, he already was. The index finger on that hand twitched and slid slowly back and forth over the soft, woolen tweed of her slender robes. He watched her face intently, waiting for her to awaken and chastise him for being so incredibly forward, but instead...


She twisted in her seat.

Not away, not really, as she was still touching him with her body. Her hand actually left his lap and went back to support her head on the arm of the seat next to the wall, but her rear...

That delicious, ripe rear...

It was now firmly planted against his side. He could actually feel the heat of her building through the layers of cotton that must surely lay between his body and hers beyond that tweed.

He knew that the Ministry idiots were fully occupied, but he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were, then looked back down to his sleeping companion. He slid his arm up on the back of the seat and his other hand...well, he was fighting a losing battle with that hand on whether it was alright to reach out and fill it with Hermione's lovely bottom.

It was actually trembling, clenching and unclenching in the fight he eventually lost. A small whimper escaped him as he fitted his hand to her buttock. She squirmed and his eyes tore up to see himself caught guilty, but she was, amazingly, still asleep. A low groan purred from her throat and she pressed into his hand and leg.

He didn't know what else to do but stay where he was. His hand kneaded her perfect flank in growing circles, slowly deepening the pressure until he finally realized, he'd twisted his entire body towards hers and was currently gently rutting against her leg.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, he cursed himself for taking this too far. What if she'd awakened? What would he do to explain away molesting her sleeping body? That she'd started it? Merlin, that was the worst sort of excuse. He took another breath and started extricating himself from the precarious position, when she took that hand of hers and did something naughty again.

She slipped her fingers down the voile-lapeled valley and started unbuttoning the front of her robes.

His heart beat wildly in his chest, and he wondered if perhaps he should awaken her. This was a public car! Some horribly voyeuristic and unbelievable side of his brain jumped up and down, telling him he'd be better to enjoy it while he could.

The privacy spell had been cast and all the other occupancy was distracted. They were the only ones in the back of the car and she was hidden by the seat back. It was insane, but he just might be able to get away with this.

If she awoke, he'd simply either feign sleeping or pretend like he'd tried to wake her up. Right. Now that that was justified in his overly-eager brain, he watched her fingers slip down to the third button, pulling slightly at the opening to allow her breasts to spill forward just a little bit more.

As her fingers moved to the fourth button, he found himself wondering what would happen if he helped that opening along? Would he be able to see the red of her brassiere again? More?

Only one way to find out, and he was already damned. Why not find out just how far he could go? If she found him touching her, he could either take the condemnation, or pretend that he'd been pulling it back together.

Merlin, he was damned.

With a defeated sigh, he pulled his hand off her derriere—after one last caress, of course—and carefully moved it to the collar of her robes, pinching the cloth lightly and pulling very, very cautiously downwards. To his shame and delight, she groaned lightly again, pressing her chest outward as her bottom pressed down into his groin.

"Jesus and all the saints, am I damned," he cried softly as she writhed beneath him and at the same time the train rocked them, his hold on her lapel slipped.

He swallowed loudly as his finger ever-so-unintentionally slipped down into her robes. His eyes shuttered closed in one indefinable moment when he could have sworn he'd felt her nipple and his cock rocked into her bottom. That's it, that's all, he would be hanged for doing any more, but oh God, this was exquisite. His finger glided along the underside of the lapel and he could feel the difference of texture between her robes, her brassiere, and the soft plumpness of her breast.


She'd thought that her dream was perhaps a little too vivid, that this couldn't possibly be happening to her. She'd thought that she really, really needed to take a vacation if she was fantasizing this well in the middle of the Hogwarts Express. Oddly enough, what had alerted her that something was off, was the complete polarity between the brashness of the Severus of her dreams and the tentative, light touches she felt upon her body.

She'd actually woken up to a jolt of the train rolling her slightly forward and an unknown pressure at her breast. Looking down, she found her hand buried in her cleavage and that she had undone quite a bit of her robes. Another hand...her heart slammed into her ribs at the sight of a...known hand? Yes, she knew that elegant, finely-boned hand. She knew that sexy dusting of fine, dark hair on the back of that hand, that black sleeve and the smell of that particular man pressed up against her. Glancing over, she saw her colleague, her friend, her infatuation, Severus Snape staring at her chest.

Her newly revealed chest.

Oh, God. Severus was looking at her nipple. He was peeking over her curved form to get a better look at what the train, her dream, her fingers and his had done to reveal a large portion of her breast.

She'd had half a mind to sit up and slap his hand away, but honestly, the youthful curiosity, longing and lust on his face was just too endearing. The longing was really what gave her pause and made her think about what was actually happening. As soon as she accepted that it really was okay for his hand to be where it was, she felt him rock up into her bottom with what was apparently quite an impressive erection. Incredible heat poured through her body and she must have made some sound for he finally looked up to see her staring back at him.


He stared, dumbfounded at the site of her pert, caramel nipple. The tip peeked out atop the tempting curve of her breast and his mouth literally watered. He wanted...there was no way...but he wanted it...oh Merlin, he was going to hang for this! And yet...and yet he was growing ever closer to that inviting furl of dusky skin.

His cock was pressing urgently into her bum at this point and he simply couldn't believe she'd opened up like this in her sleep. Just to check, he glanced up to her face and froze.

Lightning struck his heart and flew through his body as he realized her eyes were open.

They stared at each other for several seconds as he'd been caught in the act of molesting her in her sleep. What would she do? If she screamed, his privacy spell would be broken and he'd be sent back home to await trial and sentencing to Azkaban. If she screamed, he'd be proven the worst sort of pervert, to attack a defenseless person at their most vulnerable...when she'd charged him with her protection, even!

But as the seconds ticked by and the train's rolling, clacking motion passed without augment by her voice...hope flickered. It fanned the flame in his chest and his breathing became harder, his gaze more desperate.

She kept staring, assessing him and the situation...until...she lifted a hand to his face...caressing it—impossible!—around to the back of his neck. His brain kicked into gear and he started to back away, apologies forming on his lips, but she held fast.

His eyes flew back to hers in panic, in wonder, in hope.

She looked down to her nipple, then back to his mouth and smiled a very naughty smile. "Take it," she whispered. His mouth dropped open most inelegantly. "Take it, I know you want to." She shifted her breast somehow more upwards, towards him, and he didn't know what else to do.

There wasn't anything for it, except do as she asked. With a small cry, he fell upon her hungrily, tasting her skin for the very first time and savoring it, laving it, sucking the tight tip onto the center of his tongue.

Unbelievably, she moaned and held his head closer, her hands slipping over his back to dig into the rough gabardine of his frock coat.

Another moan from her was punctuated with laughter from behind them and something loudly slurred by the Weasley, himself. She stopped, held still, and looked at him in fear, "Please tell me you put up a screen or something?"

He would be damning himself to admit it, but wasn't he damned for this, anyway? He took a shaky breath and nodded in the affirmative. Her eyes darted from the room behind them, back to him, and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she angry? Upset? She hadn't moved except to place her hands gently on his shoulders. He hadn't moved and in fact, still had his hand hooked into the opening of her robes.

She shifted slightly, then amazingly, smiled that seductive smile again. Her dainty fingers pulled his longer, shaking ones from the front of her dress, kissed the tips and turned back to her side.

He was so completely confused. What was he to do, now? Let her sleep, as she'd originally wanted? Would she do that to him? Perhaps as punishment for his selfish, reckless behavior? Then again, she'd been making all the sexy noises, she'd been the one to press her heated core into him. An odd, possessive streak ran through him as he realized she'd never rejected him. She'd accepted and even encouraged his...God, his molestations. What did that mean? He stayed still, waiting for her to determine his next move, when she took his hand and with it, reached down to the hem of her robes, using their joined hands to lift the hem up...and up and up.

Their fingertips skimmed across the silken stockings encasing her legs, up over her knee and his eyes were torn between the devilish grin on her succubus mouth, the tip of her nipple peeking out at him still, and the long, slow reveal of what she wore beneath her robes.

The white stockings tied off above her knees were incredibly titillating, as was the curve of flesh revealed above it...and above that...the absolute most decadent pair of golden lace knickers—Ha! He knew it!—that he'd ever imagined was revealed to him. She lifted the skirts and their petticoats up high with his hand, then tamped the mass down with her elbow, bringing his hand, with hers, back to those golden panties.

There really wasn't much there, protecting her from his fact, he could see the pink of her tiny, swollen curve of sex between her legs. She slid her fingers around his hand to have him caress her bottom, then pushed his hand lower. He looked up and found her eyes watching him with...oh Circe! Such lust!

For this? For him? For what they were doing? His breathing came in heady rasps as she pushed his fingers along the curve of her buttock and down further still, to the cleft between. He needed no further entreaty and freed his fingers of hers, slipping them beneath the lace to feel the heated wetness encased there. She inhaled and shifted her upper leg between his, coming up to his hard cock. He slid further down the seat to frot against her silken calf as his fingers dipped up into her dripping quim. His cock hit the back of her knee and he groaned, rubbing harder as she pressed down onto his fingers.

He really didn't know why, but the next thing he knew, he was leaning down and biting the flesh of her hip. She let out a keening sound and ground into his hand, her fingers taking hold of his hair and massaging his scalp in turn.

"Oh, God, oh god oh god, fuck me!"

He inhaled sharply and wondered if she was exclaiming or requesting. He suckled on the sweet, curving juncture of her hip and thigh, laving to sooth the reddened skin afterwards, all while pumping his fingers in and out of her slick sex.

She keened again, "Severus! Please, fuck me! Please!"

He lifted his head and stared at her in amazement, then glanced over his shoulder to the oblivious occupants of the compartment. "Here? Now?"


She had no idea this man was so damned kinky. He was everything she'd ever wanted from him, and more. Here they were, rutting like a pair of seventh years, in the back of a filled train compartment, and they were getting away with it! She grinned and thought how absolutely fantastic magic could be, but that grin changed to a groan as she felt his fingers dance so wickedly between her legs.

Pressing down onto his hand and rubbing her leg slowly across his hard length, it was difficult to pay attention to everything that was going on. She was nearly mindless with need and begging Severus to fuck her was probably the most selfish thing she'd ever said in her life.

It felt fucking great.

What was even more fantastic was when he echoed the words of her dream. It showed the main difference between the man she was deeply infatuated with and the man that occupied her fantasies. The man she was falling in love with was secretive, hesitant, reserved and quiet.

To have him so close to the edge of agreeing to fuck her in the back of a public train was heady and stunning.

How could she possibly say no?

She couldn't. She wouldn't. In fact, she grinned and writhed, seething out her 'yes' in a seductive call-to-arms. His face registered shock, then thoughtfulness, then, wonderfully so...devious assent. His wand made an appearance as he apparently added another layer of protection between them and the rest of the compartment.

Hermione glanced over the seat back, but really couldn't see much other than the carriage lights swaying back and forth by the door. A warmth at her belly caught her attention and Severus was slipping his wand back into its holster in his sleeve. She looked at him, questioningly.

He looked a bit shy, but glanced between her face and her abdomen, then responded, "Just in case. I didn't know if you were on the potion and I know I'm not."

Her eyebrows jumped up and he defended himself, "It can't hurt to be careful."

She took pity on him and smiled, leaning up a bit to cradle his face in her hand. Brushing her fingers across those beautiful, reddened lips, she answered, "Thank you."

His response was to open those lovely, velvet lips and bite down lightly on the pad of her thumb. She groaned and shifted her leg against his flagging erection, which quickly brought it back to life.

His hands moved swiftly across the button placket of his trousers and her hand coasted across his chest, down to his hip to await the imminent release of his erection. She would not be disappointed. The silken heat of his cock hit her wrist and she knew she had to have it. Her hand curled and fisted around that perfect piece of manhood and she groaned in anticipation. He inhaled and canted his head back, lightly mewling when her fingers glazed the tip of his penis and slid back down, wet and slick with his precum.

She could feel her sex heat up and swell in eager expectancy. Leaving his cock, her hand reached around her bottom and separated her cheeks, hopefully enticing him to have his way with her. Again, he did not disappoint, and took control of the situation with both hands curling around her hips to manhandle her into position.

He let go with one hand to direct his overly eager cock into her waiting quim, but then swiftly set back on the hinge of her hips to rock home in one, hot push. Neither of them made a sound, just the vacuum of noise accompanying their open mouths of shock. He held still, but for one, tiny twitch she felt with shivering intensity. Her hand grasped for something of his to purchase and found his sleeve. Twisting it between her fingers, she pulled, hoping he'd get the hint and move.

Fuck, did she need him to move, or she'd likely die of need on the spot.

One of the reasons she was really beginning to love him, really, was his intelligence and wit, both of which came into play as he took the signal and reared back, only to hit deeper, and deeper. He started carrying out a slow, earthy, heavy rhythm that completely blew all thought from her mind except that of completing the peak he was mercilessly shoving her towards.

It was brutally divine and his pistoning rocked faster and faster. She could feel the timing speed up and lock in with that of the train and it only added to the building fountain of sensations reeling through her body.

Her hand slipped up his sleeve and as soon as it reached his shoulder, he turned his head to kiss it. To her surprise, his mouth opened and he actually bit down on the fleshy part of her hand below the pinky. His hot breath chanting out in the air, stirring the hairs on the back of her hand, along with the sharp pressure of his incisor threatening to tear skin just added to the frenzy of their fucking...

It was was insane...she was coming! He quickly covered her mouth with his hand as she whined out her orgasm. Their eyes met, and she could watch the silent intensity, the way he was grinding his teeth to keep quiet and the way his nostrils were flaring with every breath...

Their eyes stayed locked together as her crest waned and she nibbled and licked at his palm. She worked his long middle finger into her mouth and laved it, all while watching his peak build and build...

He bowed down over her in shuddering racks of breath on the final, delicious thrusts of his cock. Spent, he stayed still, taking a moment to regroup. She kissed his hand and brought one of her own up to the crown of his head, carding through his glossy ebony locks as he regained his equilibrium.

A few moments later, he was pulling himself together, buttoning up and pulling her skirts down. She smiled at the finger that trailed underneath her layers of clothing on the way down. Straightening in her seat, she started buttoning up the front of her robes and turned to give him a smile.

The careful, contemplative look on his face caught her attention immediately.

Before she could open her mouth to question whatever the problem may be, he darted forward and took her head between his hands, pulling her into a demanding kiss.

She was lost.

Her heart broke and reformed in the new world of having Severus Snape kiss her.

It was lovely and perfect and before she knew it, he pulled back to look at her.

This time, she got her question out, "What?"

His soulful eyes held her captive until he spoke in a gravelly voice, "You know, you're mine now. No games, no hiding...You're mine."

She grinned, "Oh, really? Starting when?"

He let go of her head, reached for his wand and flicked it casually over his shoulder. Then, just before he kissed her again, he said, "Now."

They vaguely heard an indignant, "OI!" from the other side of the room, but he just pressed her up against the wall and kept kissing.