Howling

I'm flattered and honoured to be nominated for a Quill to Parchment award as best new author. There are so many worthy nominees that I'd be appreciative of your consideration, whether or not you vote for me.

But please, please vote for my fabulous beta, GinnyW! In this chapter alone, her input has been worth your vote. Don't skip the "beta" vote just because you don't know anything about it. Vote for GinnyW. Take my word for it...she's worth it!

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Thank you!

As always, thank to JKR for the universe and characters, and kisses to GinnyW for beta-work!

49. HOWLING

Hermione spent the first half of the day on Saturday avoiding Ginny's dismayed stares and the second half of the day on Saturday simply avoiding Ginny.

Clearly, Ginny had read the book.

Clearly, she was doing more than imagining people nude.

She was imagining...not just people, but Hermione and Severus...having sex.

And from the expressions on her face that ranged from speculative to envious to horror-struck...she was imagining it many different ways.

Hermione eventually decided to stay in the dungeon.

And watch her lists grow longer.

And feel the clock ticking toward Halloween as relentlessly as a heartbeat.

And hope Professor Snape didn't catch Ginny giving him looks.

Or looking him over.

What the hell was she thinking when she gave her that book?

She had to get back to work, to thinking about something else, something not about sex.

Professor Snape found her in his lab, working, and glared at her from the doorway. "You aren't eating dinner?"

Dobby chose that moment to appear behind him with a crack and put a tray of sandwiches and a jug of pumpkin juice on the table.

"Thank you," Hermione called out to him.

But the house-elf gave the professor a wary look and cast a quick bow with a, "Missy is welcome," and cracked back out too quickly for more conversation.

"Why?" he asked.

"I've got so much to do." She gestured at her work.

He leaned against the door. "Do you think you could find it within your abilities to share my lab with me tonight?"

"Oh." She began gathering up parchments. "I'll get everything out of your way."

"Did I ask you to leave?"

"But, if you need me to leave..."

"It's not volatile and I don't need a lot of space."

So. He wanted to brew here, with her, when he could have brewed in his classroom.

"All right," she said, oddly embarrassed.

He bent over and picked up a parchment that had fallen on the floor, and then gave her a sharp look. "What's wrong now?"

"Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?"

"Your lower lip."

She sucked it into her mouth and realized she'd been chewing it.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What are they up to?"

They. They? She shook her head, and then realized... "Oh, they're not...it's not about Harry and Ron. I mean...it's nothing." She glanced away from his sceptical expression and began straightening and moving her things to one end of the lab table.

And still, he glared at her, waiting.

"It's just that..." She cut her eyes up at him and down again. "Last night. You... I was upset and you...you called me a girl." The last words were almost whispered.

He stood stiffly, much more stiffly than before, when he'd merely been glaring at her. Now she didn't even dare look up at him. She just pushed the six pots of ink into alphabetical order...black, blue, green, purple red, and sienna...and continued casually, "Because you thought I was... acting like a child? Letting Draco get up my nose like that?"

"No," he snapped. "I was not thinking you a child."

"Oh," she said and released a breath she hadn't noticed holding until it left her in a gentle whoosh of relief. "Oh," she repeated and felt colour flooding her face, and kept it angled down where he couldn't see it.

"Do you honestly think I could..." He broke off, the bitterness in his voice tangible. "I couldn't. I don't."

"In that case, if you ever want to...I mean, not that you have to...but if you ever decide to call me that again..." She gave a little shrug. "Well, I won't get upset at you again."

"Indeed."

She didn't dare look at him.

"I'll keep that in mind." And after a moment, he added, "But at the moment, insufferable seems more appropriate."

She let out an exasperated huff. "I ordered extra sandwiches."

"I suppose," he said with a scowl, "I could forgo the pleasures of the Great Hall."

She went to scoot past him through the doorway, but he reached out and snagged her arm and spun her to face him.

He stroked her hair away from her face and cupped her cheek in his hand and stared down at her until she thought she'd burst from not breathing.

Unable to take such scrutiny a moment longer, she closed the space between them and brushed his lips with hers.

And every muscle, every corpuscle, every part of her body sang a simple, yes....

His fingers stroked into her hair, and when the kiss ended, he muttered, "Totally insufferable."

And the warmth coiled through her, because the word "insufferable" curled her toes, the way he said it.

She tilted her chin up and smiled. "But then again... so are you."

She then headed for the sandwiches, feeling his eyes follow her every step.

XX

Hermione was saved from having to talk to Ginny before breakfast the next morning by Professor Snape's presence at her side.

She simply had to avoid Ginny's desperate attempts to make eye contact, which she did by keeping her nose buried in the Daily Prophet while the professor drank vast quantities of tea from his personal teapot and otherwise attempted to supplement his day's desire for vitriol and nerves.

When the owls came flapping into the Great Hall, she paid no attention, not expecting anything from her parents, and thus was surprised when an official-looking scroll plopped into her porridge.

"Scourgify," she said, wincing as she retrieved it, dripping, and handed the owl a crust of fry bread rather than the bacon it would have much preferred.

She unrolled hers and then realized that Professor Snape had one that was identical.

Quick glances between the two revealed that they were being given until the end of the day to fulfil the contractual obligations of their marriage...

Hermione leapt to her feet, unable to sit still. "We did it," she crowed softly and saw the corresponding gleam in his eyes, even as he sniffed his disdain at her public display.

"If you don't mind, I am eating," he said silkily, but his tone promised... oh yes, it promised.

She looked down at him, aware that now they were most certainly being watched by most in the Hall.

And it oozed through her, cold and slimy, that they would certainly be "watched" when they had sex.

Oh, maybe not literally, but there were now officials...at the very least, Percy, and maybe more...who would be avidly awaiting indication that she and he had....

She rolled her scroll up and shoved it into her pocket. She rarely had reason to wear her backpack, now that she wasn't keeping a class schedule.

"I'm leaving," she said. "I lost my appetite."

His eyes met hers. "I have a Head of House meeting, and then the werewolf is coming to pick up the Wolfsbane I brewed last night."

She merely nodded, incapable of words. They actually had to work it into their schedule.

Sick rose in her throat.

She felt his eyes on her as she exited into the Entrance Hall, along with the eyes of more people than she cared to think about.

Including, it was suddenly evident, Ginny.

"Hermione Granger, this book, this book!" Ginny gasped, following her out the door. "The pictures! Where on earth did you get this?"

Hermione headed down the stairs to the dungeons, leaving Ginny to follow her.

When she was sure no one else was following, she finally cast a Muffliato and said, "My mother gave it to me two years ago. I brought it with me to school this year because I thought if I had to marry... Well, at the time, I thought I might have to force somebody to read it before allowing them near me in my virginal state," she sniffed. "I was not going to allow some teenaged boy to go at me like I was some sort of a cow and him a bull in rut."

"Hermione!"

Hermione stopped and Ginny plowed into her. "What? I gave you the book because you asked, and now you're shocked? Grow up, Ginny. It's a scary world out here where the grownups live."

She'd taken three steps before she felt the twinge of guilt and spun to face her friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...this is just a bad day for me."

Ginny stared at her. "There are things in this book...things that a decent person would never do!"

Hermione sighed. She didn't want to know which things Ginny might classify as indecent; she really did not. "It's not a textbook. You don't have to master every technique for a grade."

"Oh, Merlin," Ginny moaned. "Did you?"

"All right, that's it, that's the limit, I refuse to deal with this any more. Give me back my book!"

"No!" Ginny clutched it to her breasts. "No, please...I just wanted to know...I needed to know...do nice girls do these things?"

"I'm sure some do and some don't." Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "What answer are you wanting? Do you want me to give you permission? Or do you want me to tell you don't have to? Because frankly, I can give you either answer with a clear conscience."

Ginny sighed in turn. "I don't know."

"Then figure it out before you go to Harry. That's all I know to tell you."

Belatedly, Ginny asked, "Are you all right? You seem...stressed."

"Yes, stressed might be one way of putting it. Bullied and beleaguered might be more appropriate...and before you even start, it's not the professor. It's the Ministry of Magic's Marriage Law Enforcement Division, or more specifically, Percy Wanking Weasley."

"Oh, Hermione. I'm so sorry."

"Right. Well, I need to go..."

"Wait, one thing." Ginny's face flamed as she drew closer, but her eyes gleamed. "How would I get Harry to use his tongue on..."

"Ginevra Weasley!" Hermione shrieked. "Get out of my dungeon before I hex you!"

She dropped the Muffliato and dashed the rest of the way down the stairs and finally made it to the safety of their quarters, where she flung herself across the bed and anticipated sex.

Which was a good thing.

And being monitored.

Which was not.

And then she sat up, energy practically crackling from her fingertips.

"I am not going to perform on command," she snarled. "This is going to end, here and now."

She headed for the lab, for her parchments and quills and, almost as an afterthought, she Accioed the professor's blood red grading ink.

XX

He'd had to listen to Pomona and Filius each go on about the difficulties of dealing with married teenaged couples until he would gladly have hexed them all out of their miseries. He'd alternated between wanting to box their ears for not having more understanding of what the bloody dunderheads were going through and wanting to destroy the Ministry of Magic and anyone who had ever set foot in the place.

Which, he noted with grim satisfaction, included everyone sitting at the table.

But the meeting finally ended, and he was able to make his way back down to where she waited for him, blowing through students like a whirlwind with no regard to the debris in its wake.

She was miserable.

He hadn't counted on that. Even with the success of her potion...and it was her potion, though the very idea still amazed him, that she'd created such a thing...she still sat in their quarters waiting for him to come invade her body for the Ministry's nefarious pleasure.

And the image of Lucius Malfoy floated before his eyes, and he suddenly knew he would not be going back to greet his blushing bride.

Not bloody yet.

XX

"Severus!" Cissy was surprised by his arrival, as well she should be. "Is the Dark Lord expecting you?"

"This is purely a social call," he responded. "Where's Lucius?"

She tilted her nose higher. "With our Lord."

"I wouldn't dream of interrupting," he said smoothly. "If you'd please send him a message. Let him know that I await his convenience."

He sank into an uncomfortable chair and stretched his legs and templed his fingers under his chin as if he owned the place.

It was less than two minutes before he'd been summoned.

He didn't bother trying to hide his smirk. The Dark Lord would not make him wait, even if his arrival cut into Lucius's precious private audience.

They were in Lucius's study, the Dark Lord enthroned in Lucius's leather wingback chair. He rose and offered his ring. "Severusss, to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Severus kissed his ring and raised his eyes to the glowing red orbs. "My Lord." And then, most graciously, he nodded to the other man. "My visit is personal with Lucius, my Lord. I didn't intend to interrupt you."

"Nonsense. There is no such thing as you interrupting me." The Dark Lord sat again and crossed his legs with a display of elegance. "And Lucius has no secrets from me. By all means, have your visit."

Lucius's smile was almost genuine. "Severus. I'm surprised to see you here today. I would assume you had more pressing matters to attend to."

"Indeed? And what might those matters be?"

Lucius gave a negligent wave of his hand. "I assume performing your marital duties must be taxing when one's partner is a Mu..." He cleared his throat delicately. "Muggle-born and one's own constitution is not suited to such regular physical endeavours. You've been single and celibate for a very long time, Severus. This must be a difficult challenge for you. If only you'd allowed Draco to..."

Severus pinned Lucius with a cold stare, even as his lips curled in a smile. "It seems that my bride has grown uncomfortable under Ministry surveillance. Uncomfortable enough to devise a way to block the Ministry's efforts to monitor our sex life. I'm sorry to burst any delusional bubbles you might have blown for your own entertainment, Lucius, but a sex life that does indeed exist. However, as of this morning we received official notification from the Ministry of Magic that her efforts have succeeded, that the attempts to monitor us have been in vain." He watched Lucius attempt to register this information.

"You mean, you devised a way to..."

"She did. And because I value what little peace I am allowed, not to mention the fact that she has grown to 'quite like sex,' I am here to tell you to call off your pet dogs at the Ministry. Use whatever influence you have to remove their interest from my private life. Anything you can do on my behalf will be greatly appreciated..." He let his voice drift and then glanced significantly at the Dark Lord and nodded respectfully. "In the near future."

The future in which he would be the Dark Lord's right hand.

And Lucius would be toadying for his favours.

Lucius's face suffused with an unbecoming shade of red, and he would have spoken, if a house-elf hadn't popped in at that moment with a red envelope on a silver tray. The house-elf trembled so violently the envelope began sliding sideways.

Lucius snatched the envelope and stared at it in disbelief, then dismissed the house-elf with a hard cuff to the head.

Narcissa rushed in with such speed, her hair was mussed.

A little.

"Mon cher," she said, "what on earth is that?"

"A Howler," he announced with distaste, dangling the red envelope from his fingertips as if it were soiled.

"Fascinating," Severus said, intrigued despite himself. "You realize the longer you put off opening it, the louder it gets? And," he added with an innocent shrug, "there is no way to destroy it before it delivers its message."

"I realize that," Lucius snapped. With a wave of his wand, the envelope opened and fell to the floor, and...

Fucking hell.

Miss Granger's clear, crisp voice filled the room.

XX

Filled with nervous energy, Hermione headed to the Gryffindor common room where she found everyone she sought: Harry, Ron, Ginny...and Colin.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Ron's bishop captured Harry's queen; it was a mark of how dismally Harry was playing, that the bishop actually yawned in the midst of the manoeuvre. "Can't we finish our game?"

"No," Hermione said. "You can't." She gave him a piercing look, then swung it to hit Harry. "We don't have all the time in the world, you know."

Harry glanced at the board and reached to tip his king over.

His king anticipated the move and collapsed with a relieved sigh.

"She's got a point, Ron. We may as well go see what she has in mind."

Ginny seemed unable to look at Harry without her cheeks flaming, which gave Hermione pause until she decided that nothing could have happened yet or else Harry wouldn't be so bored.

"Wait," Hermione said. "I need one more thing. Documentation."

She approached Colin Creevey, who was busy reassembling one of his many cameras.

"Do you still have that old Polaroid camera?" she asked Colin.

"Sure. I even found a magical method to create film for it," he said.

"I need a quick photograph, but anything you witness must be kept under the utmost vow of secrecy. Would you please help?"

"You don't even have to ask," Colin asserted. "You know I'm willing."

A few moments of further instruction, and Colin was accompanying Hermione and the others down to one of the furthermost dungeons.

Unfortunately, they attracted the attention of the Slytherins, as they had to pass the Slytherin common room to reach Hermione's goal.

Hermione sent the others ahead and turned to face Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. "Yes?" she asked silkily, doing her best to model Professor Snape.

"What's that lot doing down here?" Millicent demanded. "We may have to put up with you, but we don't have to put up with them."

"I suggest," Hermione said, her nose tilting higher, "that you take it up with Professor Dumbledore, as we are here at his direction." She waited only long enough to make her retreat seem to be her choice and not caused by her heart hammering in her chest.

And she hoped that they didn't take it up with Professor Dumbledore, because she was certain that if he knew her aim, he'd stop her.

Somehow they managed to get to the cellar in question without open warfare with the Slytherins, though just as the door closed behind them she heard what was clearly Pansy Parkinson's whine raise an alarm.

Hermione warded the door with a satisfied smirk. Let them try to get in now.

She turned to see...

Shite!

"Colin, I told you...don't go near that bed! It hates Muggle-borns!"

But Colin ignored her, as Harry, Ron and Ginny watched warily, wands drawn.

"This is amazing," Colin breathed, firing off shots with his magical camera, the Polaroid on the floor beside him. He leaned closer to the snakes coiling and slithering up and down the bedposts of Salazar Slytherin's bed.

But nothing happened.

The snakes ignored him.

Harry crept closer.

"Honestly, Harry, that's Slytherin's own bed," Hermione began.

"I don't think it's the safest thing for you to be mucking about with, mate," Ron added, following him closely.

But the snakes merely twined and coiled their way up and down the posts, seemingly oblivious to their observers.

Ginny finally marched forward and sat on the edge of the bed. "Nice," she said. "It would be a shame if it really is a hor..."

"Ginny!" Hermione warned, cutting a sharp glance at Colin. It was enough of a risk to bring him down here; they couldn't clue him in that the significance of the bed might be that a piece of Voldemort's soul was caught within it.

"Oy, excuse me, Ginny," Colin said, and to Hermione's dismay he crawled past Ginny and flopped down in the middle of the bed to take pictures of the underside of the canopy.

Ron actually reached out and touched one of the snakes. "The asps look like they're oak, but they're so old it's hard to tell. The cobras might be... poplar?"

Hermione felt like a ninny.

"Why did you think the bed was dangerous?" Harry asked.

"It attacked me," Hermione said, feeling like a whinger. "I mean, well, the snakes didn't like me. We...I assumed it was because I was Muggle-born...." She let the thought drift as they all looked at Colin, blissfully snapping away from every odd angle.

"What did it do?" Ginny asked, bouncing gently on the bed and eyeing Harry with a look that would have scared him, had he any idea what she'd been reading and why.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, it..."

Suddenly, a red envelope slid under the dungeon door...how on earth did it avoid the wards, Hermione wondered...and landed in front of her.

"Oy, Hermione, you got a Howler? Down here?" Ron looked aghast. "You haven't annoyed my mum, have you?"

"You mean, other than ditching you and your brothers for Professor Snape?" she snapped. She reached for it and, taking a deep breath, opened it.

A nasal, officious voice filled the room.

"Madam Snape..."

Ron and Ginny said simultaneously, "Percy!"

"I am shocked and appalled that you would take it upon yourself to send a Howler to me for simply doing the job which the Ministry of Magic (in all of its wisdom) has deemed to bestow upon me.

"To imply in any way that my monitoring of your marital relationship with your husband is prurient and salacious is an insult to me and to the department and highly respectable witch for whom I work. To know that you sent identical Howlers to our esteemed and honourable Minister of Magic, to my immediate supervisor (the aforementioned respected and revered Madam Umbridge) and to even include the esteemed Mr. Lucius Malfoy in your vile accusations is beyond the pale.

"While I'm certain that you think you're very clever, Hermione, I must assure you that whatever it is that you have done to hide your activities from this office will not be tolerated, and your veiled offer to share your "experimental potion and incantation" with other Marriage Law couples if we don't stop monitoring your activities will be considered a threat.

"Although I shudder to think what kind of offspring will result from your union, I must remind you that I will not be the only one watching for evidence that you and Professor Snape have fulfilled your contractual obligations through marital relations before the day ends. If such evidence doesn't present itself, the results of such rebellion will be dire, indeed.

"Finally, I consider my brother the luckiest wizard on earth, that he avoided being married to such a harpy!

"Yours truly, Percival Weasley

Undersecretary of Marriage Law Compliance

Department of Muggleborn Relations

"They know when you have sex?" Ginny gasped.

"You sent a Howler to the Minister of Magic?" Harry moaned.

"Percy Weasley will have no bollocks by the time I get through with him," Ron snarled.

"Brilliant!" Colin muttered, snapping away at the four of them.

"Well." Hermione smoothed her robes, her cheeks flaming. "I think it's time to get back to the business at hand. Colin, are you ready?"

She took a step closer to the bed.

Every snake on every post hissed and lunged, and despite the fact that she was still several yards away...

A snake hurtled through the air and its fangs sunk into her wand hand.

Agony screamed through her veins.

XX

It was an indication of his state of extreme agitation that he did something he'd never even attempted before.

He landed at the Apparation Point outside Hogwarts gate already lunging forward.

Not a moment's pause to gather his balance.

Instead, a non-stop motion from appearing to crossing through the gate in long strides, taking the path in record time, all in an attempt to get his hands on his vexatious and insufferable wife.

The fucking Minister of Magic?

He wanted to kill her, plain and simple, kill her, for her absolute recklessness.

Dolores Umbridge?

He wanted to throttle her for her impudence, despite the fact that he appreciated the sentiment that prompted it.

Percy Weasley?

Well, he highly approved of sending a Howler to that twat.

Lucius Malfoy?

He wanted to fuck her senseless, and then start over and do it again.

The expression on his face. The expression on Narcissa's face.

They had been glorious to behold.

It was, however, the reaction of the other witness that terrified him.

The Dark Lord had remained expressionless throughout the reading, his red eyes glowing and fixed on Severus.

How many ways had she wrought disaster with her fit of pride and pique?

And why was his own overriding reaction to the disaster the simple swelling in his chest that by Merlin's ghost, his annoying Gryffindor of a wife was magnificent....

He entered the castle with full intention of going straight to the dungeon, so wasn't slowed by the presence of first year Peregrine Burns who clearly had been waiting to pounce on him upon his arrival.

"Professor Snape, you've got to come, there's trouble..." he said, his unchanged voice high-pitched and desperate.

"What are you nattering about, boy?" he demanded, already taking the stairs two at a time.

"War!" the boy spouted. "Madam Snape brought Gryffindors into the dungeon and now half the sixth- and seventh-year Slytherins are about to attack them!"

"Oh, bloody fucking hell," he muttered, the desire to kill her taking the forefront, again.

Burns ran ahead of him down the hall, and he followed, his long legs giving him the advantage.

Suddenly, a vague pain, a startled awareness...

Miss Granger.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

They were past the Slytherin common room and taking the corridor to the lowest level of sub dungeons when the very foundations of the castle trembled.

Stones groaned against stones.

Sound concussed upon sound.

An explosion rocked the floor beneath their feet.

Terror gripped him as he took off at a full run, plunging through dust and...smoke?

He ran faster.

By the time he reached the cellar room in question, his head roared with anger, with pain, and his Slytherins were mere obstacles in his path. They fell aside, stunned by both the explosion and his assault as he pushed through to where a door had once been, and now splinters covered the stone floor.

"Owwww," moaned Crabbe as Goyle stood by and stared at the chunk of wood jutting from his friend's arm.

"Take him to the hospital wing, you idiot," Severus snarled and hurled himself into the thick of the dust and smoke within the chamber...

The chamber where he'd banished the Slytherin bed.

What the fuck was she doing here?

Where the fuck was she?

Panic coursed through him as he coughed, choked, finally cast an air clearing charm and saw the devastation.

Potter, the Weasleys, and Creevey were already hauling themselves to their feet, coughing, eyes streaming.

His heart stopped beating.

Miss Granger...his Miss Granger...was still on the floor, covered in dust.

And blood.

Her arms, her face...a wound on her forehead dripped blood.

He dove for her, lifted her into his arms.

"Get the Headmaster!" he barked. "Warn Madam Pomfrey that we're coming!"

And then, he felt a hand on his cheek, and he looked down and saw her eyes, wide and trusting and bloodshot, as she tugged at his hair until he pressed his face near hers...as if she had to force him, the stupid girl...and he heaved great gulps of air and of relief as he pressed his cheek to hers.

And she spoke, so weakly he strained to hear her...

"I knew you'd come..."

And then, with the most devious of smiles, she added, "My darling boy."

"I'm going to kill you," he responded with all the emotion he could muster. "Slowly and excruciatingly. Kill. You."

She nestled into his arms with the most contented of sighs.