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Dec 24, 2025

Send Me an Angel

Oneshot, 12,417 words.

Severus creates a time-travelling potion, and his wife uses it to go back in time to make his *first time* extra special. It gets smutty, (but like, romantic smut!) so 18+

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Her hand trembled slightly with nerves as she wrote the date and location in her bubbly script on the small piece of parchment: 20th July 1985, 19:00, England, Cokeworth High Street, Smithson Hotel. A quick incendio and the parchment burnt down to ashes. These she swept off the table into a small funnel, then added to the glass potion bottle. With a few shakes, the potion turned a brilliant shade of strawberry red. Removing her thumb from the bottle top, the faint scent of vanilla wafted up. He always manages to make things taste nice, she thought, smiling softly.

He was probably in his office right now, stirring a cauldron full of something weird and wonderful, too engrossed in his work to get any of the fresh air he'd promised to take in whilst she was away. She'd have been able to strong-arm him into a walk around the lake if she'd been there, force him into a getting bit of sun. But left to his own devices? Not a chance, she thought tenderly.

He thought she was in Brighton with her girlfriends, enjoying a cheeky little girls' weekend away, and she knew he'd revert to his "mushroom state," as she affectionately called it, completely lost in his work down in the damp, dark dungeons, chasing a breakthrough on his newest brew. She'd asked a house-elf to make sure he had at least two meals each day whilst she was gone, and had left this morning; not for Brighton, but for the Belladonna Inn just outside of Hogsmeade, where she'd booked herself in for a night.

She picked up a vintage handbag, charmed with an undetectable extension, and readied herself to down the potion. It was one of his newest concoctions, and gods, she couldn't be prouder of him. Whilst known only to the two of them for the time being, once he published the book he was working on, the magical world was going to realise what she'd known for fourteen years: just what a bloody genius Severus Snape actually was.

From the very instant his obsidian eyes had first met hers, she'd fallen headfirst into their piercing gaze, and had been drowning ever since. He'd felt a similar spark, though it had taken months of soul searching and one long, awkward talk during night patrol with Minerva - who'd threatened to string him up by his thumbs in the Great Hall if he didn't ask the new professor out already - before he'd admitted it to himself. The day he finally came to her office, under the guise of dropping off a fresh batch of hay fever relieving potion, then proposed she could let him know how it worked over dinner at Vincenzo's in Hogsmeade, she felt as if the missing jigsaw piece of her life had at last clicked snugly into place. (This was to the great delight of Minerva, who collected her ten galleon winnings from Flitwick with a cheeky grin.)

They'd met during those quiet years, after the fall of the Dark Lord, but before his return. Those first peaceful years gave way all too soon to the storms of war. The nights she'd stayed up late, worried sick whilst he was out doing god knows what for the greater good. The times he'd returned battered and bruised, often too shell-shocked to speak about it. The Order meetings that inevitably began and ended with some snide remark about them from Sirius. The soul-crushing things he'd been forced to do. The final terrifying battle, and his miraculous survival. His stint in Azkaban, and those harrowing days watching from the public gallery during his trial, so full of dread for his verdict she felt it might kill her. His return home, and nursing him through a long recovery. The rebuilding of Hogwarts, and of their lives. Despite the odds stacked so menacingly against them, they'd managed to come out the other side - certainly not unscathed, but alive, and together, which was all she could have hoped for.

War aside, gods knew it took a special kind of woman to love Severus Snape. More than once she had stormed out, thrown things, raged at him like a category five hurricane. But in the end, they always found their way back to each other. Life was settling at last into some sense of normalcy, and though they would remain cloaked in the trauma of war forever, they had each other, for what would hopefully be many more years together.

It was summer break, and with the students gone, Severus had been making use of the free time to lose himself in his research and writing. She held the fruits of his labour in her hand; a potion which would allow the user to travel back in time for a short period. He remained torn on whether to even publish this particular piece of research; use of such a potion opened up a plethora of ethical concerns. He was of the opinion it should be used only for small, inconsequential changes. After testing it personally to make sure it was safe, he'd given her enough for a single trial, and she'd pondered for weeks about how to use it.

The answer had come to her one night in bed, as she watched him sleeping peacefully after the sort of soft, tender lovemaking that always left them feeling love-drunk and deeply connected, even after all these years. Reflecting on how much better it had always been with him than with any of her past lovers, she recalled the night they'd shared their first-time stories, snuggled together in bed one frigid winter evening in the early months of their relationship. Whilst sex with Severus had always been leagues more passionate and fulfilling than with anyone else, her first time was at least with someone lovely, who'd made an effort to make it a nice experience for her. His was rather more depressing. He'd had a drunken one-night stand with a Muggle girl who'd approached him in a nightclub in Cokeworth when he was twenty-five. She'd bought him drinks, taken him home, and it was all over very quickly. He left immediately after, feeling remorseful and wishing it could have been better - but also feeling that perhaps he didn't deserve anything better. He'd never seen the girl again, nor did be wish to.

In typical Sev fashion, he'd even remembered the exact date. "It's indelibly etched in my mind for eternity, I'm afraid," he'd said. Perfect. She'd smiled to herself, snuggling against him under the duvet, drifting to sleep as she concocted a plan to rewrite history in this small way, for the man she loved so fiercely.

Grasping her handbag tightly, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves, and downed the potion, closing her eyes and clutching the empty bottle. She had a slight whooshing feeling, like very slow apparition. She knew by the familiar scent of factory smoke and dirty river water that she was in Cokeworth even before opening her eyes. The Smithson Hotel stood before her; by far the nicest building on the run-down high street, even with its damp-stained facade and peeling paint. She strode in and booked herself into a room for the night, paying with cash she'd withdrawn from the Muggle bank account she and Severus shared - necessary as they both had some connection to the Muggle world. She'd enchanted the notes to appear correct for the time.

The room was rather sparse and shabby, but it didn't matter. She didn't expect to be sleeping here. Eying the clock, she decided there was plenty of time for a shower before she left. She didn't want too arrive too early.

She showered, marvelling at the sight of her twenty-three year old body. Though she'd taken good care of herself over the years, it was strange to be back in the thinner, smoother, more taut body of her youth. Equally as strange to regard her twenty-three year old face in the mirror, smoothed of the faint crows feet and laugh lines she was only just starting to develop. She pulled items from her bag: makeup, a hairbrush, and a Bob Mackie dress which was likely on the rack for purchase at some high-end department store this very day. She steamed this free of wrinkles with her wand, and hung it on the single hanger provided by the hotel. She'd found it at a Muggle estate sale during a trip back home to the US, a few years before the end of the war. A strapless dress with a black velvet bodice and sweetheart neckline, and voluminous, asymmetrical bubble hem skirt featuring a bold butterfly-wing inspired pattern of crinkled gold lame. Something perfectly fitting for the time, but likely to be rather more upscale and eye-catching than what the other lady patrons would be wearing tonight.

She said a silent prayer of gratitude to the fashion gods as she began doing her makeup. Though Severus teased her about the amount of clothing she owned, he'd built her a wardrobe fit for a queen in the Slytherin Head of House chambers they shared, roomy enough for her vast collection of vintage pieces. She knew he appreciated her style, and damned if it didn't come in handy sometimes - like now.

She cast her mind back to recall how she used to do her hair and makeup for a night out, crafting a smokey-eyed look with plenty of black eyeliner and a bold red lip. She dried her hair with her wand, slightly teasing her shoulder-length blonde locks. She'd always eschewed the overly teased, towering hairstyles favoured by many women in the 80s, going for more of a relaxed, Debbie Harry sort of vibe. She'd gotten the Blondie comparison more than once in her youth; may as well play to her strengths.

She slipped the dress on over the emerald green lace lingerie set she'd chosen, along with a pair of classic black high heeled pumps, and packed everything back into her handbag. She had a little squeal at herself in the mirror, giddy with excitement, hoping things would play out as she envisioned.

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"Excuse me."

The young man looked up from the magazine he was reading at the front desk, eyes widening slightly in appreciation for the pretty girl standing before him, the American one who'd checked in earlier. "Yes, can I help?" he asked, unable to stop the boyish grin spreading over his face.

"Could you tell me how to get to The Foundry please?"

"Oh, the nightclub? Sure, it's just down that way, turn right at the chip shop and it's not far behind. Big neon sign, you can't miss it. But... I'd be happy to escort you, if you don't mind waiting half an hour?" He grinned hopefully.

"Oh," she said. "Thank you, that's really nice of you, but I'm actually meeting someone, I shouldn't be late." She gave him a smile; his face fell a bit.

"Ah, right. Well, have a nice evening then."

"Thank you, same to you." He watched her sashay out the door into the mild summer night, wondering what the hell a woman like that was doing in bloody Cokeworth, of all places.

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She heard the nightclub before she spotted it, the thumping bass echoing down the alley behind Charlie's Fish and Chips. Butterflies swam in her stomach when she saw the bouncer, a sullen-looking refrigerator of a man, checking IDs at the door. Shit, my Muggle IDs are all dated seventeen years in the future. But she'd come this far, she couldn't turn back now. Perhaps he'd not notice? Guess I can confund him if I need to.

She queued up behind a few lads in leather jackets, smiling softly at the bouncer as she stepped up to the door. "Alright love?" he asked gruffly.

"Alright. Yourself?"

"Smashing." He looked her up and down, his mouth twitching into a tiny smile as his gaze came back up to meet her eyes. "You have yourself a good time, love." He gestured her in without asking for ID, and she gave him a quick thanks and stepped through the door with relief.

The temperature and humidity inside enveloped her like a wet sheet, and a wave of sweet nostalgia engulfed her. Gods, even without Sev, just being able to relive her youth like this for an evening was magical. The place smelled of cigarettes and stale lager, with an undertone of damp leather. Talking Heads Once in a Lifetime blared from the sound system as Cokeworth's young and energetic spent their dole on pints of tepid lager, chatting and laughing in an attempt to forget their exhausting working class lives for a few hours. A sea of sweaty dancers moved frenetically about the sticky dance floor, reminding her what Sev had told her about this place. I had nothing better to do on summer nights. I usually just sat at the bar, drinking and smoking, observing the mating habits of the locals like some perverted nature documentary. I'd amuse myself by trying to guess who'd go home for a lacklustre shag with whom. In the corner, behind a slightly wonky plywood booth, a bored-looking DJ spun records. And to the left, a long bar.

She studied the backs of each of the barstool-seated patrons... several tired-looking men who seemed to be searching for absolution in the bottom of their pints, two young women talking animatedly, and... her breath caught. There he was. Slimmer, his hair shorter, wearing Muggle clothing and smoking, something he'd not done in years... but unmistakably him, even from behind. As she watched, he turned to the young woman sat to his right; there it was, that profile she'd recognise anywhere, that strong nose she adored, those dark eyes like pools of black ink... gods. He looked much as he did when they first met, roughly three years from now. Absolutely divine. For a moment, panic welled up in her chest. What if this didn't work? What if he didn't even want to talk to her? Don't be ridiculous. Of course it will work... it has to! She shook off her nerves and approached the bar, standing near the woman on his right to order a drink.

From the corner of her eye, she could see him; his gaze wandered from the Muggle girl chattering away at him, landing on her. She knew he was watching as she leaned over to be heard over the music and made her order. The bartender turned to make her drinks, and she deliberately looked at anything but the younger version of her husband two barstools away, being chatted up by some slightly dumpy Muggle girl with very scuffed kitten heels and a bad perm.

Three drinks were placed before her: two shots of straight Southern Comfort, and a gin and tonic. She paid, then downed the shots in quick succession, catching the Muggle girl turn around, no doubt to see what Severus was so distracted by. She winked at the bartender, then took her cocktail and sauntered off to the outskirts of the dance floor. As she walked away, she made sure a specific coin fell from her hand as she stuffed her change into her handbag.

She found a spot against a wall where she could observe from afar, and nursed her gin whilst swaying to the music, wondering how long it would take him to come find her... She watched as he dismounted his barstool briefly, picking up the coin, and then as the bartender presented him with a Pernod and Black, courtesy of the blonde in the black and gold dress. The Muggle girl got an annoyed look on her face, which pleased her. Things seemed to be going to plan.

She marvelled at how familiar the place felt. Not because she'd ever been there, but because Severus had told her about it, during some of those long, meandering conversations they often had in bed. He'd painted such a vivid picture; how he used to spend summer nights here, during his break from Hogwarts in his early years of teaching. Here, he wasn't the young, regretful wizard who'd given his life to a dark cause. He wasn't Dumbledore's spy, or the sullen, acerbic professor they all whispered about. Here, he could be just a Muggle guy with a tattoo, blending in among the gormless punters looking for any reprieve from the quiet desperation of their dull lives; lives full of manual labour and regret. He identified with them; slaves to a kind of life no one would knowingly choose.

Well, if things went according to plan, he'd at least have one night worth looking back on. She moseyed towards the DJ booth to see if she could sweet talk him into playing some Depeche Mode.

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Gary kept looking her way, dancing ever closer with a gleam in his eye. She recognised him from Sev's stories; Sleazy Gary with the gold tooth and tight perm who'd chase anything in a skirt. Sev had said anytime a new girl showed up at the club, the other regulars would make bets on how long it would take before Gary would be leaving with her. She'd been dancing alone in a spot visible from the bar, and could see several men watching with amusement as Gary circled her like a shark. Severus was watching too, with that look on his face she knew well - that possessive glare he got when other men flirted with her. Aww, and he doesn't even know me yet. How sweet.

Well-practiced in the art of evading annoying men, she manoeuvred further away from the curly-haired cad as the DJ dropped the needle on the Depeche Mode she'd requested. Perfect. Sultry and sexy and perfect for dancing... gods she loved Depeche Mode. She was swaying along when his honeyed baritone cut through the music like a knife, weaving its way into into her ear from behind. "Thank you for the drink." Fuck. Even after all this time, that dulcet voice, like warm velvet, still sent tingles down her spine.

She turned in time with the music, looking up to see him at close range for the first time. His hair was shorter, his face thinner and smoother... every bit the gorgeous man she would fall head over designer heels for three years later. The groove between his eyebrows was there, though not as pronounced as it would be after two decades of war. Those luscious lips, those piercing black eyes. And that voice. The deep, languid drawl she could happily drown in, ever so slightly softer, not yet weighed down by twenty years of horrors. It was all she could do not to pounce on him like a cougar.

"You're welcome." She smiled up at him, still moving in time with the song. He was so damn gorgeous in the reddish dance floor lighting. He swayed slightly to the music, leaning down closer to speak to her over the blaring beat.

"What's your name?"

"Bianca."

"That's... unusual." His mouth curled into the slightest facsimile of a smile as his dark eyes bored into hers.

"Is it?"

"For this place, anyway."

She bit her lip slightly to keep from laughing. "What's yours then? Something suitably dull? Stephen? Michael? John?"

He gave an amused huff. "Severus."

"Ooh," she cooed. "That's unusual. Almost... magical." She could feel the heat between their bodies as they moved even closer to talk...

"Speaking of magic, you dropped this." He pulled her galleon from his pocket and held it before her with a flourish, like a Muggle magician showing your chosen card.

"Thanks." She plucked the coin daintily from his fingers and dropped it into her handbag, hanging from a long strap on one shoulder.

"You should be careful. You could have given it to the bartender by mistake."

"No worries. I'd have just said it's an arcade token from some faraway resort."

His eyes narrowed quizzically, only just registering her accent over the blaring music. "You really aren't from here, are you?"

"I'm from New York." She smiled softly.

"Mmm. That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why you seem to have a spark of life in your eyes, unlike the rest of this godforsaken town."

"How tragically poetic." She spotted the Muggle girl from the bar heading toward them with a disgruntled look on her face. "Uh-oh... I think your friend is upset."

He turned to glance behind him, then turned back. "She's not my friend."

"Oh? Who is she, then?"

"Just some empty-headed girl who decided this grotty nightclub full of sweaty gobshites is the perfect way to forget her mind-numbingly boring life for a few blessed hours."

"So you're just here for the world-class cocktails then, huh?"

He chuckled in response as the girl drew nearer. "Oi, you said you were going to the toilet!" she spat, her voice rough, as if she'd been raised on a diet of concrete and factory fumes. Bianca glanced her way, then put her arms around Severus, resting her hands on his lower back and pulling him close. He seemed startled for a second, then returned her gesture, his own hands finding their way to her upper back. She deftly whirled them further into the sea of dancing people, and the Muggle girl stomped off in a huff.

"You're welcome," Bianca said with a grin. The DJ faded in a new song, New Order's Blue Monday. "Ooh, I love this song."

The night wore on, and they lost themselves in the midst of the dance floor, marooned together on an island of bliss amidst the sea of dancing bodies. Gods, he smelled just the same; herbal and minty and heavenly, his scent intensified by the heat. She knew from his stories that he wasn't usually one for dancing, but she kept him close, swaying and undulating to the synth-wave soundtrack of their youth: The Cure, Bauhaus, Human League, Duran Duran, more Depeche Mode... His eyes remained locked on her, his hands wandering slowly over her velvet-clad curves, drinking in the inexplicable sight of her - a stunning American witch among the common Muggles of Cokeworth, a butterfly in a room full of slugs. The electric heat between them was palpable, like the crackling magic of a powerful spell, growing more magnetic with the pounding beat of each song, and when she she looked up at him during Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart, he surprised them both by pressing his lips to hers in a kiss so stunningly perfect her knees nearly buckled.

She allowed him to guide her toward the back of the club, where he pressed her against the mirrored wall, and they made out like lovesick teenagers in a dark corner for what seemed hours, hands tangling in each other's hair. He tasted faintly of aniseed and breath mints, his lips warm and familiar against her skin, kissing her as if he feared she might fade away at any second. She wondered if it seemed familiar to him at all...

"Um..." he stumbled a bit over his words, pulling away only slightly, one hand cupping her jaw, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Do you uh... maybe... want to get out of here?"

She smiled sweetly and nodded. "I thought you'd never ask."

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His house in Spinner's End was much the same as ever; a bit shabby, a bit dusty, lacking the cosy touches she would add in later years, but tidy. "Sorry... it isn't much," he apologised.

"It's fine," she assured him. "Do you live here alone?"

"Only during summers. I work at a boarding school." His face relaxed slightly, remembering that she'd understand; he didn't have to spin his usual white lies as he did for Muggles. “Hogwarts, actually. I teach Potions."

"Oh. Wow. I've always wanted to see what it's like there."

"I... suppose you went to Ilvermorny?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He suddenly remembered his manners. "Gods, I'm sorry, can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Just water is fine." She watched as he collected a pitcher and two glasses from the kitchen, noticing his hands seemed to be shaking slightly. Bless his heart, he's nervous. Well of course he is. He just took a complete stranger home for the very first time.

"Um... my uh... sofa isn't very comfortable, to be honest. Sorry, it's rather old." He looked like a lost puppy, eager to please but unsure what he should do.

"That's okay. We could go upstairs. I assume you have a bed?"

He laughed softly. "I do." She hummed in agreement and headed up the stairs. "First door on the left."

She opened the door to what she already knew was the master bedroom, which he'd taken over after his parents' deaths, furnishing with a plain, but sturdy new bed he'd purchased with his first Hogwarts salary. They'd made love in that bed countless times, though he didn't know this yet, of course. She sat on the edge of the mattress, looking around the sparsely furnished room as he sorted the drinks, filling the pitcher with a quick aguamente and conjuring a glass full of ice cubes. "I... heard that Americans like a lot of ice?"

She giggled. "Yeah. We do. Thanks." The icy cold water was heavenly after hours of inhaling cigarette smoke. "Oh, sorry," she stood up quickly. "I should freshen up. All the smoke, you know." She pulled her wand from her bag and did a quick spell which left her feeling fresh and smelling far less like a dirty ashtray. (This particular spell freshened one everywhere; invaluable for times such as these.) "Can I offer you one?" she asked playfully. He agreed, amused, and she performed the spell on him. "Let me check..." she drew close, inhaling deeply against his chest. "Mmm. Fresh as a spring rain."

"You've obviously never smelled Cokeworth after a storm," he said in his usual deadpan manner. She laughed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and gently slipping off her heels. He sat beside her, fussing with items on the bedside table for a moment before removing his own shoes. It reminded her of the early days of their relationship; how nervous he'd been, worrying about doing something wrong, about taking things too far, too soon... some things never change, she thought. She knew she'd have to take the lead tonight, but wanted him to feel comfortable, not pounced-upon or coerced into anything. Nothing like what would have transpired had she left him in the clutches of that rough Muggle girl. "I don't usually do this," he intoned, as if apologising for his bold behaviour.

"Neither do I." She gave him a shy smile.

"Then why are you here?" he asked softly. She knew by his tone he was overthinking as he always did, looking for any indication that this may be some sort of nefarious set-up, a twisted ploy to embarrass him... or worse. The bullying of his youth and his dealings with the Dark Lord and his followers had primed him to expect disaster at every turn.

"Because you invited me," she replied playfully. "Who I to turn down an invite from a gorgeous man?" He huffed, taken aback by her words. "But... I'll leave, if you've changed your mind," she said carefully.

"No," he declared. "Please, don't leave. I... I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this."

She gazed at him with warm eyes. "It's fine, really. I don't want to leave. And... we don't have to do anything that you don't want to do."

He relaxed a bit, breathing quietly for a moment before speaking softly, hesitantly. "Could I... kiss you?"

Gods, he's so cute. Asking so sweetly when we just made out like fiends in that club... She nodded, leaning in to press her lips to his. "Mmm," she murmured when they broke apart for air. "You liar. You're very good at this."

He blushed. "Gods, you're... gods." He reached for her, cupping her face in one hand and melting back into her. Emboldened by her praise, he pressed his lips over her cheek, working his way down to her neck, lost in the soft, silky skin of her bare shoulders. She combed her fingers into his lush black hair and sighed with pleasure, gasping when he reached that particular spot in the crook of her neck that always made her weak...

"I'm sorry, have I... did I..." Poor baby, he's terrified of doing something wrong. It dawned on her just how inexperienced he actually was at this age. Gods, I don't think he's even kissed anyone before tonight, has he?

"No," she said, trying to reassure him. "That was really nice."

"Oh." He blushed again. She knew he'd be mentally berating himself for possibly revealing his inexperience. He prided himself on competence in all things, and this situation would have him feeling vulnerable. She decided not to let on that she knew it was his first time. She kissed him, this time letting her own lips wander, pressing softly against his face and neck, her hands tugging at the collar of his button-down shirt. He sighed quietly under her touch.

"May I?" she asked, her fingers toying with the topmost button.

"Please."

She undid the top button, revealing a a small section of bare skin, warm under her soft lips.

"Mmmm... you smell sooo nice," she whispered. "How about this one?" She toyed with the next button, feeling his chest heaving slightly under her touch as his breathing quickened.

"You can um..." She could practically hear his head spinning. "All of them. Please." His hands were gripping the duvet, as if he didn't know where to put them. Well, I suppose he doesn't. She kissed him whilst working her way down, undoing each button, pulling at the bottom to un-tuck the shirt from his trousers.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he intoned, his voice even deeper than usual. "Gods. Please." She ran her hands lightly over his chest, his sides, caressing his warm skin with a practiced hand. His eyes were half-hooded in bliss as he struggled to breathe normally. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, tentatively pushing off his shirt. He allowed this, releasing his grip on the duvet long enough to pull free of the sleeves. The shirt fell to the bed behind him, and she saw his eyes flick down to his left forearm. I'll just pretend I don't know what it is.

His body was lithe and smooth, not yet bearing the full suite of scars she'd kissed so often, muscular in that wiry sort of way from years of defence training. Familiar, and yet not. "Gods," she said in awe. "You're gorgeous." She captured his mouth in a searing kiss, wrapping her arms around his bare torso to pull him close. His hands released their iron grip on the duvet, caressing her back whilst they kissed passionately, the smack of their lips echoing faintly in the sparsely furnished room. His fingers toyed idly with the zipper of her dress, hesitant to make such a bold move. He trailed his kisses back to her neck, his breath on her skin making her quiver. "It's alright," she whispered, her fingers finding their way back into his hair. "You can unzip it."

He exhaled sharply, as if he couldn't believe his luck, and slowly unzipped her dress. The bodice slipped down, revealing her emerald green strapless bra, a lacy one with an elaborate floral pattern she'd chosen because she knew he loved the colour against her skin. He sat back, his hands lingering on her arms, taking in the sight of her with wide eyes. She shifted to stand up, holding his hands with both of hers, letting the dress fall to the floor and delicately stepping out of it, standing before him in her emerald lingerie.

His eyes drank her in like the finest firewhisky, an awestruck look gracing his face. She placed his hands on either side of her waist. "You can touch me, if you want to." Oh, he wants to, that's for damn sure, she thought wickedly.

He traced his hands slowly over her curves, lingering for a moment on the small birthmark located just above her waist on her left side. "This is... very cute," he said, his fingers lightly tracing the outline. "It's shaped like a cauldron." He would make this very same remark three years in the future, and she would say that it meant she was destined to be his. His hands wandered; she sighed blissfully under his touch. A naughty little idea popped into her mind.

"Let me just..." she leant over to pick up her dress. "It wrinkles easily." She turned to lay it across a chair, but her real intention was to give him a look at her from behind. He always praised her arse, saying it was like a ripe peach, so she wanted him to have a good look. She bent over slightly and fussed with the dress for a moment, smiling to herself when she heard him breathe a soft "fuck."

"Sorry," she said, turning back around. "Where were we? Oh, right." She leant over and kissed him softly on the lips, then sat back on the bed's edge, ghosting her fingertips over one of his arms in long, tickling stokes.

"Are you... I mean... we could move back. It might be more comfortable... for you?" He gestured vaguely at the bed, and she understood his bumbling words meant he wanted to lie down together.

"Sure. Just a moment." She leaned over to pluck her handbag from the floor, reaching her arm in up to the elbow, rummaging around until she found the small bottle she sought. He watched this with one eyebrow slightly cocked, then eyed the bottled potion she unearthed; a contraceptive, easily recognisable by the golden colour and the scent of the Queen Anne's Lace seeds used to brew it, like honey-glazed carrots. "Maybe I should have you inspect this for quality, Professor?" She was teasing, but he took the bottle and looked it over carefully, uncorking it to sniff the contents.

"It appears to have been expertly brewed," he declared, as if giving feedback to a student. Of course it was. You brewed it yourself. She smiled gratefully, then took the bottle and drank the contents, leaning over him to place the empty bottle on the bedside table. With a breathy little giggle, she scooted back further onto the bed, leaning against the pillows. He watched her, his eyes travelling over her body, then followed suit, seeming a bit unsure where to go from here. "Are you alright?" he asked. "I mean... if you're cold I can..."

"No, it's warm in here. Are you alright?"

"Gods. Yes?" The look on his face melted her heart. To see him like this, so young, so unsure of himself, so vulnerable... guh. She wanted to climb him like a tree. Easy now, don't scare him off... you can attack him properly when you get home.

"Good," she smiled brightly. "Then we have nothing to worry about." She reached for him, bringing his face close for a kiss. "Mmpfh. Gods you're gorgeous."

He made a sort of incredulous huff. "Perhaps I should have inspected that potion more closely. It appears you've become delusional."

"What?" She replied. "I mean it. You have the most beautiful face. And such luscious hair."

He looked confused, and she knew it was the first time he'd ever been complimented like this. But her taste in men had never been quite the same as most other women. She'd found him breathtakingly gorgeous from the first moment they'd met. "I... can't say I've ever had that said to me."

"I find that hard to believe," she said gently. "Well, let me reiterate; you're gorgeous. And gods, your voice is insanely sexy."

He flushed a bit red again. "There is only one gorgeous person in this bed, and it certainly isn't me," he said, sounding as if he were eager to compliment her but not quite sure how.

"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree then," she said, leaning on one arm and wrapping the other around him, pulling him close. He kept his hand on her waist as their kisses deepened, still timid about going too far. She broke contact, her face still nuzzling his, long enough to whisper, "it's alright. You can touch me." His hand gripped more tightly in response, slowly moving downward and back. She knew he'd be dying to grab her arse, and leaned further into him to allow access. "Mmm," she hummed, letting him know that she liked it. This spurred him on, and he pressed himself against her, gripping her arse through her knickers with an almost indecipherable moan. There we go, now he's coming around...

Time melted into nothingness as they lay pressed together, hands wandering and breath quickening. His fingers made their way up to her chest, stroking the lace of her bra. She reached around to undo the hooks with one practiced hand, letting it fall, then looked up into his eyes. He stared back into hers, as if seeking permission to lower his gaze. She took his hand and placed it resolutely on one breast, with a coy little smile. He looked as if he'd forgotten how to breathe. "Mmm," she murmured. "That feels really nice."

He squeezed lightly in response, finally allowing himself the luxury of looking, exhaling sharply at the sight. "Merlin. You're... you're so beautiful." He rubbed his thumb softly over her nipple, which stiffened under his touch. This seemed to fascinate him, and he stared for a moment, studying her like a complex potions recipe. "I want... may I..."

"Mmm-hmm." She slid down further, lying back against the pillows, combing her fingers into his hair to draw him close. He kissed over her collarbone, making his way down, finally pressing his lips against her breast, giving the nipple a few soft kisses before letting his tongue explore. She felt his breath on her skin as he worked himself up at last to a proper little suck, sighing sweetly to let him know how good it felt for her. He trailed kisses across to the other breast, his hands finding a path downward, stopping at her waist, trembling slightly against her skin.

If ever a man had a scientific mind, it was Severus. He always looked at any situation from every angle, always explored every possible nuance of any given problem. Having known him for fourteen years, she knew exactly what he would want right now; he'd be thinking that this might be the only time he'd ever have a willing partner in his bed, and he'd want to take full advantage - doubly so because it was also his first time. He'd want to see, touch, and taste every inch of her, filing away the details in his brilliant mind. He'd want to experiment, so to speak, and observe her reactions. He'd then use this information to please her as best he could, rather like when he experimented and improved on his potions. All whilst absolutely out of his mind with the pleasure of finally being touched by a loving hand. But he'd need her to push him out of his own head enough to do it. "Hey," she said softly. "It's okay. You can touch me. Or kiss me."

"Where?" he asked, his mouth still against her soft breast.

"Anywhere."

"Anywhere?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Gods." His hand moved downward, his fingers tracing the lace of her knickers. "These are pretty. The colour... it's nice against your skin... I mean..." he trailed off, feeling he'd bungled his compliment.

"Thanks. You're very sweet." He buried his face between her breasts, as if hiding his embarrassment, and began slowly kissing his way across her skin, back and forth over her ribs, her stomach, leaving no inch un-kissed. She sighed and giggled breathily. His hair tickled her skin as he rained reverent kisses all over her, working his way down one leg, all the way down to her foot with its freshly pedicured, red-polished toes, which he studied for a moment.

"Gods," he said. "Even your feet are pretty." He kissed his way back up her other leg. She parted them further as his lips worked over her inner thigh, unable to keep from moaning softly; she was so sensitive there. He breathed in deeply, and she knew his head would be whirling madly; he'd always loved the scent - and taste - of her arousal, saying it was like sin and beautiful dreams. And gods, his kisses had caused an absolute waterfall between her legs.

He settled himself between her thighs, leaning his head against one whilst caressing the other, then timidly stroking over her damp knickers. She took a sharp breath in. "I'm sorry," he said. "Should I not..."

"It's okay," she replied. "That felt really good."

"Oh." He looked up at her, his eyes wide. "Do you... want me to do it again?"

She had to choke back a laugh. "Yes. Please." He did, his touch sending jolts of pleasure up from her core. She moaned wantonly. "Here," she said, reaching down to tug at her knickers. "Take them off." Gods, if only I could read his mind right now.

Severus gulped audibly, flustered, but more than keen. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide her knickers down, removing one leg, then the other. "Fuck. You're... absolute perfection." He touched her lightly with one finger; she gasped.

"Ohh... mmm. Do that again. Please."

His fingers gingerly explored every soft, smooth crevice and fold, making her struggle not to writhe wildly under his touch. He studied her like an exotic flower, finally pressing the pad of one finger against her aching clit and massaging with soft pressure. Her back arched suddenly, and she moaned beautifully. Heartened by her reaction, he pressed his mouth to her, his tongue eager to reach every last sweet inch of her.

Ohhhh fuck. She closed her eyes in bliss, moaning softly. He was slightly clumsy, lacking the masterful precision he would develop later, but gods... it still felt incredible. She looked down briefly; the familiar sight of him with his face buried deep in her smooth, wet folds, his nose pressed against her small triangle of curls... mmmm.

His tongue found the perfect spot, licking firm circles against her clit, and her moans intensified, echoing round the room. "Ohhh gods... that's sooo good... mmmpfh..." Ever the observant student, he kept his rhythm constant, focusing on her reaction... her heaving breath, her arching back... she reached down to clutch at his hair, her other hand grasping the pillow for dear life. "Fuck, Severus. Oh gods... yes... yes!" She felt his breath against her mound as he locked in, knowing he'd be fascinated by the sight, and determined to bring her over the edge. Every muscle tensed, her back arched nearly completely off the mattress, and she went quiet for a few seconds, frozen on the knife's blade of ecstasy, finally coming apart with long, shuddering moans as the orgasm radiated through her in powerful waves of relief.

He watched, entranced, as she relaxed back into the pillow, breathing heavily, seemingly lost somewhere within herself. He kissed his way back up her body, lying beside her. "Are you... alright?" He sounded a bit bewildered.

"Mmm. Yeah," she said, still panting a bit. "That was incredible."

"Really?"

"You seem surprised." She laughed softly. "Fuck. I've never cum so fast before." She let out a long breath, then turned to snuggle up to him, softly caressing his bare chest. His mouth twitched into a Mona Lisa smile; she could tell he felt proud of himself. She kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue, pressing the full length of her body against his. "Oooh," she winced a bit when the cold metal of his belt buckle touched her stomach. "That's cold."

"Sorry, um... let me..." He undid the buckle, and she could see the outline of his aroused cock straining against his trousers. He noticed her looking, and seemed almost ashamed, clearing his throat awkwardly.

She placed a hand on his thigh. "Is this okay?"

"Yes."

She stroked his thigh for a moment, edging her way upward. "And... is this okay?"

"Yes. Please."

"Mmm. You're so polite." She carefully massaged his hard cock through his trousers; he sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled in a low groan. She nipped at his neck and continued to stroke him. His hands moved over her body, bolder now, cupping her arse with a gentle squeeze. "You should take these off," she said, "so I don't leave a mess all over them."

"Mmm. I wouldn't mind." He freed himself from his trousers, tossing them onto the floor, wearing only his boxers now.

"If you want me to stop at all, just tell me, yeah?" She began kissing her way down his body just as he'd done to her; his gorgeous body that she knew so well. The body that had held her, comforted her, even saved her life on more than one occasion. The chest with the light dusting of hair that she'd fallen asleep on so many times. The delicious happy trail of dark hair below his navel. She lingered over the spots which would one day bear scars; scars that she found beautiful, because they spoke of his survival. She flicked her tongue over his nipples, something he'd not be aware that he liked until this precise moment. He watched her blonde hair glinting like gold in the light of the bedside lamp as she worked her way down, kissing down one leg and back up the other, just as he'd done to her.

She wrapped her hand around his cock over his boxers. He groaned and gripped the duvet again, his toes curling. "Is this okay?" she asked cheekily, knowing fully well that he wasn't going to say no.

"Yes." It came out as more of a moan than a statement.

"Mmm. Can I take these off?" She ran one finger around the waistline of his boxers.

"Fuck. Yes. Please." He lifted himself and she tugged them down, his cock springing free, hard enough to break granite. He hurriedly kicked off the pants, which landed somewhere on the floor.

She took him in hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Gods. You really are gorgeous," she purred, stroking him slowly. His face contorted with pleasure; she knew he'd be putty in her hands from this point. She kissed his thigh again whilst stroking him slowly, oh so slowly...

His dark eyes locked on her blue ones as she kissed up the underside of his cock, breathing in his familiar clean musk. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip; she licked this with a soft flick of her tongue, then kissed the head of his cock, removing her lips for a maddening second before enveloping him with her warm mouth. He groaned from the very depths of his soul as she began gliding her lips and tongue up and down, relishing the familiar taste of him.

"Fuuuuck..." he moaned, gripping the duvet tighter. She cupped his balls in one hand, squeezing and tugging very gently the way she knew drove him wild. "Gods. Stop... I..."

She stopped, laying her head against his thigh. "You okay?"

"Yes," he panted. "I'm sorry... it's just... it was nice. Really, really nice, and..."

"It's alright. Don't worry." She moved back up, lying beside him.

He turned toward her. "I'm sorry. I just... didn't want it to be over yet. Fuck. It felt incredible."

She smiled and bit her lip. "That's quite a compliment, actually."

A shy half-smile graced his face. "Could I... hold you?"

"Of course." She wrapped her arms around him, nestling his cock against her thigh. He held her tenderly, as if she were made of fine crystal, and they kissed sweetly for a long while.

"I... think I'm alright now," he said, pressing his cock a bit more firmly against her.

"Mmm. Alright." She sat up. "Why don't you sit up, and lean back." He did so, and she quickly arranged the pillows against the headboard behind him. "Can I sit here?" She put a hand on one of his thighs.

"You can sit anywhere you like."

"Ooh, don't tempt me..." she said with a sly wink, straddling him. "Mmm. Perfect." She wrapped herself around him, and he returned the embrace. "Gods, I could kiss you for days."

"I'd let you." They lost themselves in each other, kissing and nipping anywhere they could reach, grinding slowly against each other below. She settled herself over his cock, gliding her soaked pussy over him until his legs began to quiver.

"Severus," she murmured against his neck.

"Yes?" he returned in a strained breath.

"Do you want this?"

"I want you. Please..."

She guided him into place, sinking slowly onto his full length. The groan that escaped his throat was like nothing she'd ever heard. She sat still for a moment, letting him adjust to the sensation. "Mmm. You feel so good inside me..."

"You feel... like Heaven." His eyes looked deeply into hers, then closed in bliss. He breathed slowly, trying to steady himself. Gods, the sight of him like this... she kissed him tenderly on the forehead, overwhelmed with love. If only I could tell him...

She began moving in slow, grinding circles. He held her closely, as she knew he'd want to, and she kissed him deeply, showering him with love and affection just as she would in the future. She hoped he would know that this was just as special for her as it was for him, even if she couldn't tell him why.

"Bianca," he whispered, nuzzling just behind her ear.

"Hmm?"

"You're so fucking beautiful. I... I don't deserve this."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you do." She quickened her pace, gliding up and down his cock. He groaned in response. "Mmm... does that feel good, baby?" He gripped her tighter in response, well on his way to completely losing control.

"Gods. You feel so fucking good..." his voice was husky with need. She intensified her rhythm a bit more; he was panting now, his fingers gripping her hard enough to leave marks. She buried her face in his neck, sucking hard in his sweet spot, riding his cock in just the way she knew he needed...

"Oh gods. I... I'm going to..."

"Mmm. Cum for me, baby. Right here. Inside me."

"Oh fuck... fuck... fuuuuuuck..." She seated herself to the hilt, feeling him pulse inside her. His cries bounced off the walls as he finished deep within her, clutching her tight as he drowned in the tidal wave of pleasure.

She held him close, one hand at the back of his head. He went limp in her arms, completely spent, his breath coming in whimpers as he came back to earth. "Gods, Severus. That was... magical." She laughed softly, stroking his hair affectionately. "Are you okay?" He nodded against her shoulder, not yet able to form words. Fuck, I think I nearly killed him. "Here, lie back." She pulled off of him, thinking he would collapse onto the bed. Instead, he reached down with a curious hand.

"Merlin..." There was indeed quite a mess between them.

"See, this is where being magical comes in handy," she said. "Let me get my wand."

"No need," he returned, and the mess vanished, leaving she sheets and themselves clean and dry.

"Ooohh, wandless and non-verbal? Aren't you clever?"

"Shattered is what I am," he said with a soft laugh, sinking back down into the bed. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I should hope not." She pulled down the duvet and crawled underneath. "Why don't you join me under here." He did, seeming to go suddenly shy again, as if unsure what do no now. If they'd truly been strangers, perhaps she would have felt shy, too. But she had the advantage of knowing something about him that he didn't... How he not only liked, but needed to cuddle after sex. Aside from the occasional quickie somewhere in a dark corner of the castle, they always cuddled afterward. No matter how intense the sex or what sort of sordid scenario they may have played out, they always had a snuggle after, even if they were so exhausted they could each only manage to throw a tired limb over the other.

She scooted over, snuggling against him. He seemed to relax under her touch, nestling back against her with his hand resting on her hip. Exactly where he always likes to put it. They lay quietly for a while, lost in their own thoughts, until he spoke, sounding mystified. "Who are you?"

"I told you my name."

"I mean... who are you? Where the hell did you come from?"

"I told you. New York."

"I don't believe you."

"Then where do you think I came from?"

A quiet beat passed. "From Heaven."

She chucked softly. "I guess that makes me an angel, then."

"It's the only plausible explanation."

She kissed him tenderly on the chest and looked up at his face. He looked both peaceful and puzzled.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Like... like you know me."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, I mean... it's actually quite nice. People don't usually look at me with such... affection."

Her heart shattered. She knew of course about his past, and how lonely he'd been before they met, never having had a true friend, or anyone who cared for him besides a handful of colleagues. But seeing him so young, and so bloody deserving, made her want to wrap him in cotton wool and never let him go. "I'm sorry. That sounds awful."

He shrugged. "It's fine." He snuggled in closer. "Gods. You're so soft and warm... may I kiss you?"

Classic Sev. After what we just did, still asking so sweetly... "Mmm-hmm." The room around them faded away, leaving nothing but them, pressed together under the duvet, limbs entangled and faces nuzzling, blind to anything but each other.

"Fuck. I'm sorry..." he said after a short while, realising he was grinding against her thigh. She reached down to find him hard again. Mmm, nothing like the libido of youth.

"Oh. Well then." She grinned cheekily.

"We don't have to...". She shut him up by taking his hand and placing it squarely between her thighs. He groaned, his fingers slipping over her drenched skin. "Can I..."

"Please." He stroked her slick folds, slipping one finger inside her. She moaned softly.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Yes," she replied. "But your cock feels better."

He bit his lip to stifle a groan, then worked his thumb over her clit, eliciting a symphony of sounds from her that did very nice things to his psyche. As amazing as it felt, she wanted him to feel her cum on his cock, so she asked him to stop. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just... don't want to finish just yet." She leaned into him, peppering his chest with kisses.

"Oh,' he said, resting his hand on her hip again, but quickly moving further back to squeeze her arse. "By the way, your arse is incredible. It's like a ripe peach."

She giggled. I've heard that before, Sir. "You don't have to work so hard to flatter me. I'm already in bed with you."

"Merlin only knows why," he said, trailing hungry kissed over her shoulder.

"It's that sexy voice. I couldn't resist. In fact..." She gave his neck a sharp little nip. "What if I said I wanted you right now?"

"Well, you are the guest. I suppose I should humour you..."

"Only if you want to..."

He pressed his cock firmly against her thigh. "I am completely at your mercy, Madam."

"Mmm, you know just what a girl wants to hear." She got up onto her knees, taking his hands to pull him up as well. He buried his face in her breasts and reached around to squeeze her arse with both hands. She sighed lustily, turning around and backing up against him, one leg between his. He grabbed her from behind, one breast in each hand, pressing his mouth desperately to her neck, and his cock against her arse. His hands wandered down to touch her arse again, and she leaned over, on her hands and knees, knowing this would drive him absolutely wild.

"Gods alive, your arse." His hands caressed reverently, as if she might break, then lust overcame him and he grabbed fleshy handfuls, his cock throbbing at the sight. "I've never seen anything so fucking perfect."

She couldn't help smiling, though he couldn't see it. His absolute favourite position was to have her from behind. He loved the view of her arse, and the sense of dominance it provided. It was her favourite as well, for the incredible way the angle made his cock feel inside her, and the way she could relax and give in to being a bit submissive. To be able to give him this, to experience it for the first time... ooof. She felt a fresh surge of wetness just thinking about it.

Severus was now pressing against her, his cock hot and rigid against her arse. Please,' he begged. "Gods, I want you..."

"I want you too, baby." He gave a sort of moan-whimper. He always loves it when I call him baby.

She felt his cock rubbing along her wet skin, then pressing into her, inch by inch. She could hear his slightly ragged breath, and knew he'd be trying to burn the image into his mind forever. Fuck, when he sees himself glistening with me as he thrusts, he's gonna pass out... "Ohhhh... fuck, baby... that's sooo good..."

His hands moved around, looking for the right spot to land, finally settling on her waist, just above her hips, and he made a tentative thrust, gasping at the intensity. Her moan was involuntary; it really did feel amazing, just as she expected. "Bianca... gods. You're so fucking hot." He gave in to his aching need, thrusting with more vigour, a bit scattered at first but soon finding a rhythm that had her moaning softly.

"Ohh Severus... you feel so fucking good, baby. Mmmpfh..." She lowered herself further, resting her head and upper body in the bed, knowing this would make her arse look even hotter. It had the added benefit of allowing her to easily reach down and touch herself... and she knew exactly how much he would like that. "Mmm..." she moaned, swirling her fingers around her clit. "God baby. I'm so close..."

"What should I do?" he said rapidly between gasping breaths.

"Exactly what you're doing. Ohhhh fuck..." Her body was on fire, the pressure building and building. "Oh gods... Severus... ohh... yes! Yes! Ahhh..." With a final deep press of her fingers, and his cock stretching and filling her so perfectly, she succumbed to the fiery release, pulsing wildly around him. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to drift back into reality, then got back up onto her hands, relaxed now, moving back to meet each of his thrusts. "Mmm," she keened. "Take me, baby. I'm all yours."

Her words seemed to rouse something deep within him, and he groaned mightily, thrusting harder. The smack of their skin was a sinful percussion, underlying his gasping breath and needy moans. She knew he was close. "Fuck... you're so goddamn hot. Ohhh fuuuuck..." she felt his hot cum spilling out of her before he'd even finished. He grabbed her hips like a life buoy, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. She gave her arse a little wiggle and sighed happily.

He pulled out of her, and she felt his finger gently touching her swollen skin. She knew he'd be admiring the way his cum dripped down, trying to commit the image to memory. He cleaned up as before, and collapsed back onto the bed. She joined him, snuggling up and pulling the duvet over them.

"Merlin's balls. That was... life-changing." He threw a tired arm over her and kissed her damp forehead. "You really are an angel."

"And you really are a liar, Mr I'm Not Very Good at This." She held him for a moment, then asked if she could use his bathroom. "I should wash my face, or you'll have makeup all over your pillow."

He looked a bit surprised, as if he hadn't considered she might stay the night. "Of course. Let me find you a flannel." He got up and rummaged in a drawer, and she took the opportunity to appreciate his arse, which still had the firmness of youth. Mmmm. "Would you um... like something to wear?" he asked shyly. "I don't... I mean, I'm not sure what you like to sleep in."

"Oh, anything's fine. A t-shirt maybe, if you've got one?"

"Ah, yes." He turned, offering a clean flannel and a folded shirt, along with a towel. "Is there anything else...?"

"No, thank you, this is fine. I have things in my bag." She took the items from him, picked up her bag, and stood on tiptoe to peck him on the lips. "I'll be back."

I wonder what he's thinking now, she thought giddily as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She slipped on the t-shirt he'd given her; an oversized David Bowie concert shirt he'd had since his teen years. The screen printing was bright and crisp, not cracked and faded from a thousand washings like it would be in the future, when it would be part of her regular nighttime wardrobe. She hugged herself, wondering what present-day Sev was doing right now. Either sleeping or standing blearily before a hot cauldron.

She returned to find him in some soft pyjama bottoms, and he went to make his own ablutions. She waited in bed, snuggling down under the light summer duvet, pondering what it might be like if she stayed. If they could relive their whole lives from this point. But the potion wouldn't last forever, and they'd meet in a few years anyway. But she hated the thought of him being alone in the interim.

He returned to join her under the duvet, and she snuggled close, laying her head on his chest. His heart beat steadily under her ear. "You don't need it," he said.

"What?"

"The makeup. You're just as pretty without it."

She melted. "Gods. Where'd you learn to be so sweet?"

He shrugged. "It's just the truth." He was quiet for a long moment, thinking. "Are you busy tomorrow? I um... well, you could stay, if you wanted. We could go out for lunch, perhaps?"

This made her nearly tear up. "I would love to, but... I'm afraid I can't. I have to go back. Back home." She felt him exhale, and knew he'd feel quite heartbroken.

"Oh," was all he said.

"I really would love to. Honestly. But... it's just not possible. But I really would love to, if I could." She kissed his chest.

"It's alright," he conceded. "I understand."

Oh honey. If only you did...

He spoke again. "Thank you. For tonight. It was... honestly the best night of my life."

She hugged him tighter. "You don't have to thank me. But you're welcome. It's been amazing."

They lay wrapped in each others arms, talking a bit about nothing of consequence. He asked sweetly if he could stoke her hair, and did so until she drifted off, breathing peacefully beside him in the moonlight streaming through the sheer curtain.

------------------------------------

She padded out of the bedroom, her blonde hair mussed and her face scrunched from sleep, looking adorable as always in his old t-shirt. "Hi, love," he greeted her. She gave a slight groan, all she could muster this soon after waking, and joined him on the sofa, cuddling up and nestling her head against his chest. "I made you a coffee," he said, kissing her tenderly atop her head. She sipped the hot brew gratefully, slowly becoming human again.

"What are you up to today?" She asked, still slightly groggy.

"I have a tonne of marking to do. Bloody first year essays. No telling what sort of nonsense I'm going to have to correct."

She laughed softly. "I'm meeting Jess for lunch, but we should have a walk later. Hagrid's got a new litter of Pygmypuffs. He says they're tiny. I'm dying to see."

"Hmpf. I suppose I should endeavour to get a bit of fresh air."

"I promise it won't hurt," she replied, kissing him tenderly on the cheek.

Severus awoke reluctantly, not wanting to let the lovely dream fade away. He felt a warm weight pressed against him; her, sleeping tranquilly beside him. So that part wasn't a dream, at least. He put his nose against her hair and breathed deeply. She smelled of honeysuckle and the sweetest sin. Merlin's beard, what sort of magic had he done to make this happen? He'd actually taken a complete stranger home... done the most intimate things with her... and the strangest part was that it hadn't actually seemed strange at all.

Wasn't losing one's virginity supposed to be an awkward sort of experience? A clumsy fumble, over all too quickly, leaving the bitter taste of regret in your mouth? Not a mind-blowing night with a stunning woman like her, full of what seemed to be actual passion. She was leagues above the few plain-looking, dull-minded Muggle girls who'd ever approached him. Women like her looked through him; they didn't offer him bright-eyed, flirtatious smiles, seduce him with sultry dancing and sharp banter, then go home with him for incredible sex. And yet, she had. And gods... it was almost as if she actually cared about him. As if he'd actually been made love to.

She roused, sighing prettily as she woke. Here it comes, he thought forlornly. The moment she realises what she's done, and makes some excuse to leave as soon as possible. But she smiled sleepily at him, still struggling to keep her eyes open. Gods, she was beautiful like this; her blonde hair mussed, her face adorably scrunched, wearing his shirt... just like in his dream. Just like in the dream?

"What time is it?" she murmured drowsily.

"Just gone seven. Do you... need to leave?"

"Not yet. I should go by eleven, at the latest." She nestled in further against him, dropping a sweet kiss against his chest. He stroked her arm languidly, wishing he could freeze time, keep her here forever. She turned slightly, putting her leg over his, her knee brushing his cock, hard as stone with morning arousal.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "We don't have to..."

"Shhh..." she placed a fingertip to his lips, and a sudden minty fresh sensation filled his mouth, as if he'd just brushed his teeth. She repeated the gesture on herself, then shifted up to give him a long kiss.

"Impressive," he said when her lips released his.

"You're not the only one who can do wandless spells."

"That was... what was that?"

"Just a little something I created myself," she said with a wink. "So... I can stay a bit longer. Will you make it worth my while?" She reached down, stroking him through his pyjama bottoms.

"I... fuck."

"Mmm. Yes, please."

He was tempted to ask for a repeat of last night, to have her from behind. Merlin's balls, that had been the most erotic sight he'd ever seen. But no. What he really wanted was to have her like this, face to face, as if they were real lovers. He ran his hand up her body, pulling off the shirt, worshipping her with his lips all over... her neck, her shoulders, her perfect breasts with their taut pink nipples... fuck. He wrangled himself out of his bottoms, pressing his hard length against her with a groan. "It's alright," she whispered. "I'm ready." He reached down... bloody hell. She was absolutely soaking.

His cock found its place, filling her in one long stroke, making them both gasp. He cradled her tenderly in his arms, his lips raining venerations on her silken skin as he thrust slowly, determined to hold back as long as possible. He never wanted it to end. "Gods, Bianca. You feel so good. So right."

"Mmm. You feel incredible."

A sweet little moan escaped his lips. "Not just that. I mean... fuck, why does this feel so right?"

"Because it is."

He made love to her slowly, with gentle thrusts, each one feeling more amazing than the last. Her hands gripped his back, one finding its way into his hair. Mmmpfh, why is that so good? She began whimpering as he brought her closer to the peak of her climax... "Ohhh... Severus... mmmm..."

Gods, those delicious little sounds she made... the way she moaned his name... and the thought that he was making her feel this way... He'd never felt so illustrious in his life. She tightened around him, and he kissed her just beneath her ear. "You sound so beautiful. You're so fucking perfect..." Her back began to arch, as it had the previous night just as she'd... "Gods yes. Cum for me, angel..."

With a moan so sweet he nearly fell apart, she toppled over the edge. She clenched rhythmically around him, bringing him to his own glorious climax, and they rode out the crashing waves together, washing up back on shore in each other's arms. She stroked his hair as their breathing slowed. He lay beside her, cleaning up and pulling her close, loathe to ever let her go. They stay there, staring into each other's eyes, kissing, caressing, until the clock turned nine. She sighed.

"Do you really have to go?" he asked.

"Yes. But you're not making this easy for me. I really don't want to."

"Then don't."

She smiled sadly. "I really must. I'm sorry."

He sighed, resigning himself to it. "Fine. But let me at least make you breakfast. You can have a shower, if you want."

"Thanks. You really are the sweetest."

-------------------------------

He listened to the water running upstairs as he stood before the hob, pondering the previous night, and all the things that shouldn't have happened. A one-night stand wasn't supposed to leave you with feelings, dreaming of domestic bliss. It was meant to be a drunken, emotionless fumble in the dark. Just two strangers using each other to get their rocks off. He was supposed to have woken up with a hellish hangover and a crushing sense of remorse, and make some paltry excuse to get her to leave.

He wasn't supposed to have cuddled with her all night. He wasn't supposed to have enjoyed the little sighs she made in her sleep. He wasn't supposed to long for her to stay. It was supposed to have been meaningless sex with no real connection. Just a way to finally rid himself of the dreaded virgin label. A quick dirty fuck, a means to an end. He wasn't supposed to want to take care of her after, offer her his shirt and his shower and make her breakfast.

And yet, here he was, frying bacon and brewing coffee, fretting that she might not like his cooking. Worrying about whether she'd make it safely back to... where ever the hell she'd actually come from. It was as if they'd been longtime lovers. He'd felt as if they'd actually made love; tenderly, and with genuine passion. For Merlin's sake... for the first time in his life, he actually felt seen.

He heard her coming down the stairs and looked over. He wasn't supposed to find her even more attractive with damp hair and no makeup. She wasn't supposed to make the place feel less like the lonely den of despair it had always been.

"That smells nice," she said, standing in the door of the kitchen in jeans and a Blondie t-shirt.

Fuck. He certainly wasn't supposed to find himself struggling to hold back tears at the thought of her leaving.

------------------------------------

She laced up her black Converse trainers, readied her bag, and stood back up. "Thank you, Severus. This has been lovely."

"I owe you all the thanks. I... I'll never forget this."

She smiled, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked, his voice pained.

"Yes. Maybe not for some time, but... yes. I promise."

"I could owl you, perhaps?"

"Don't worry," she said, giving him one final loving kiss. "I know where to find you." She turned, her hand lingering briefly on the doorknob, then left, shutting the door softly behind her.

Severus watched from the window as she made her way down the street, his hand pressed to the grimy glass as if he could summon her back. A tear trailed down one cheek. "I love you," he whispered as she faded into the distance.

-----------------------------------

The potion brought her directly back to the Belladonna Inn. She checked out quickly and apparated back to the Hogwarts gates, heading straight for the dungeons.

Severus was standing by the mantle in the living room of their chambers, as if he'd expected her early arrival. She dropped her bag and flew into his arms, holding him tightly for a long while until he spoke softly. "How was Brighton, you little minx?"

She laughed. "What happened, then?"

"I had the most amazing dream. It wasn't really a dream though, was it?"

"Uh-uh." She shook her head with a sly grin.

"You know, it's odd. I have memories of telling you, about my first time. About the other first time. But... only that. Only the memories of telling you. It's as if I was relaying a story about someone else. When I think back on it now... it was you." He tipped her chin up and kissed her deeply. "Thank you, darling. You're incredible."

"You're not so bad yourself. I love you."

"I love you too, my angel."

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