The Things we do for Love

A/N: So sorry it's taken this long to get this chapter right. Thanks go to septentrion and karelia, ladyinthecloak for the beta.

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Breakfast was rather a subdued affair. Minerva, having assumed her Animagus form for the short time available for sleeping, was more rested and awake than most. The remainder of the previous evening's revellers drifted in, one after the other, took their seats quietly, drank the treacle-like coffee that appeared in front of them and, by tacit agreement, ignored one another.

In stark contrast to her hungover colleagues, Sybill Trelawney breezed in with a broad smile on her face, scarves fluttering in her wake, and drew up a chair in between Minerva and Pomona. 'All quiet last night,' she announced. 'Nothing to report.' And then, glancing up the table, she whispered, 'Is it true?'

'Is what true?' Minerva answered, trying not to baulk at the overpowering scent of patchouli assaulting her nostrils whilst tucking into her kipper.

Sybill fiddled with her glasses, pushing them over the bridge of her nose, before leaning in closer. 'I saw... in the tealeaves... ' She looked up the table again. 'A Muggle-born...'

'Would you care to join me for some tea this afternoon, Sybill?' Minerva hissed. 'This is not the place to discuss such matters.'

Sybill, rather reluctantly, took the hint and poured herself some pumpkin juice, but she was unable to resist another furtive glance in the Potions master's direction. Severus, completely oblivious to Sybill's excitement, was scanning the front page of the Prophet while buttering his toast. He had long ago learned to block out the irritation that was female chatter...his breakfast companions' inane small talk on this, like any other morning, being of little interest to him. Hermione's erratic behaviour, on the other hand, was still very much on his mind: he had been careless, and her first instinct had been to make a run for it. What would have happened if the ring had actually fallen off while he'd been sleeping? It didn't bear thinking about. The consequences could have been dire...

But I did not.

A keen observer at that moment might have noticed a slight tensing of the shoulders, although Severus' face, as ever, was wearing its habitual mask of seeming indifference. His grip on his knife increased, nails digging into his palm. For fuck's sake! He didn't need to be told the bleeding obvious: he had woken up in time. Just. And he had learned a salutary lesson in the process: he could not afford the luxury of a respite from his ever-present critic, no matter how exhausted he felt.

Contemplating his toast, Severus had to admit that, if he was honest with himself, he was spreading himself too thinly. There was just so much going on, that was the trouble. Things that couldn't be put off: things like his research. If it wasn't for that taking up such a big chunk of his time...not to mention his energies...outside his teaching duties and responsibilities as Minerva's deputy and as Head of Slytherin, then he would be able to pay more attention to Hermione's needs. It was a logical assumption that she was feeling a bit neglected... Perhaps he should make time and take her away for a short break somewhere? Possibly without the children. Half-term, maybe...?

Suppressing a snort, he reached for the Marmite. The year had barely started, and here he was already thinking about getting away. But, and it was a big but, his research was at a critical point. He was so, so close to cracking his experimental potion, he could almost taste it. If he could only set aside some time to just... think...approach the problem from a different angle...then the elusive element he was obviously overlooking would present itself. He was sure of it. And when he did eventually discover how to release the potential of the 'Squib Gene', he wouldn't have to think about taking a holiday; they'd be able to get away permanently, buy a house far away from Hogsmeade. Somewhere spacious with plenty of room for two growing children; somewhere he'd never have to endure the thankless task of imparting information to disinterested adolescents ever again...

One by one, the staff pushed back their chairs and left the High Table, heading for their respective classrooms, the greenhouses, the library, and the Quidditch pitch. The Headmistress, much fortified after several cups of tea, made her way back to her office.

As she meandered through the corridors towards the spiral staircase, Minerva thought of Molly and wondered if she'd received her owl, yet, and what her reaction would be. It was a rare occasion when there was something positive to report, and Hermione's appearance last night had certainly been a cause for celebration; although, she didn't want her old friend to get too excited. They were by no means out of the woods yet. It might still come to nothing.

Those portraits that were present and not snoring in their chairs nodded briefly as Minerva entered the office before returning to their business. She glanced around, acknowledging her predecessors with an absentminded wave, noted the cheery fire burning in the grate and made for the south-facing window on the opposite side of the room. Pressing her knuckles against the sill, she vainly searched the skies for any sign of her returning owl.

'Ten years,' she murmured. 'Ten years of watching helplessly, treading on eggshells...'

'Is everything all right, Minerva?'

Minerva pursed her lips and turned towards the portrait of Albus Dumbeldore. 'Have you spoken to Severus recently?' she asked.

'Not for, oh, a week, at least.' Albus looked up from the book on his lap and stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'Whenever I've tried, he claims he's too busy or too tired. And I have to admit, he looks worn out at times. Why? Has something happened to Hermione?'

'Yes... and no,' Minerva replied. 'I can't really say, but, please, if you notice anything, anything at all, let me know.'

Albus' keen blue eyes regarded her over his half-moon spectacles. 'I will, of course, but... Oh, for Merlin's sake!'

'Misky is bringing Hogwarts' kitchen inventory as Headmistress requested.' The house-elf bowed to Minerva while glancing nervously at Albus' portrait. 'Misky is interrupting,' she squeaked. 'Misky is...'

'Enough!' Minerva sighed and gestured towards her desk. 'It's all right. Just leave it there, will you, and then go.'

'Yes, Headmistress. Misky is sorry for interrupting...'

The tapping of a beak on glass attracted Minerva's attention back to the window, and by the time she'd let the owl in and returned to her desk with Molly's reply, the house-elf had completed her task and vanished.

Minerva let out a huff of annoyance. 'I could really do without this.' An irritable flick of her wand sent the carefully arranged sheets of parchment flying to the in-tray as she eased herself into her chair; the more tedious aspects of running the school could wait.

'Now, then... Let's see...' Adjusting her spectacles, Minerva broke the seal and straightened out the scroll:

Minerva.

What a turn up for the books. How wonderful! It can only be a good sign.

We must not give up hope now.

Have faith.

Molly.

'Hope, my...' Minerva crumpled the letter up into a ball and tossed it in the wastepaper basket. Nimue, how that word left a bitter taste in the mouth. And Molly's tone was almost complacent, which was not what Minerva had expected. But then, hadn't they both been gradually coming to terms with the situation? Time was softening them: moving on, as it always did. Righteous anger was dissolving into acceptance.

It was all such a far cry from that day (was it really ten years ago?) when Molly had stormed through the Floo, her face as red as the hair on her head, so livid she could barely get a word out...

'That-that... snake! How could...' Molly's eyes scanned the walls, suddenly all too conscious of their silent audience. Then, they fell on Albus' portrait. 'You trusted him,' she shrieked, causing Albus and several surrounding former heads to cover their ears. Not bothering to wait for his response, Molly spun on her heel and began pacing in front of Minerva's desk, muttering, 'How could he,' over and over again.

'I know, Molly...' Minerva sighed. 'Oh, do sit down. Please. You're wearing a hole in the carpet.'

At Minerva's signal, the guest chair sprang into action, waddling up behind Molly and trying to match her pacing.

'Sit?' The chair hovered expectantly. 'You expect me to sit when...' Molly paused, frowning. 'You know?'

'Severus informed me of their imminent nuptials on the way out,' Minerva replied. 'Now, shall I order us some tea, or would you prefer something stronger?'

'But-but, that's not the half of it,' Molly spluttered, finally sinking into the waiting chair. 'He's put a Binding ring on her finger, for Merlin's sake! Did you even notice?'

'I did,' Minerva admitted, fishing for her wand. 'I recognised it for what it was immediately; there was a similar ring in my family, you know... As, no doubt, there was in yours. Alohomora.'

A jet of red sparks alighted on a small cabinet half-hidden in an alcove next to the fireplace. The door clicked open, revealing a crystal decanter, filled with a pale yellow liquid, and a set of silver goblets. 'But I've no idea what happened to it after my great-grandmother died. Gillywater?'

Molly nodded. 'Thanks.'

Tinkling gently as a murmured incantation extracted the stopper, the decanter rose into the air and poured out a generous measure into two of the goblets.

'I don't suppose he was so stupid as to obtain it illegally?' Molly asked, holding out a hand as her Gillywater sailed towards her.

'I would have escorted him to Azkaban myself, if it were so,' Minerva replied, similarly catching her goblet. 'But he took pains to assure me it was in his family's possession...and by that I assume he means the Prince side...and that they had entered into a standard betrothal contract beforehand...' She paused to take a sip of her favourite tipple. '... Which would imply consent on Hermione's part. I'm afraid to say, it all looks pretty hopeless.'

'There must be something... Some... loophole.'

The comment wasn't particularly aimed at her...it was more thinking aloud on Molly's part, Minerva realised...but she answered anyway, wanting to offer some crumb of comfort, however small. 'Well... we could get hold of a copy of the contract and examine it... And the goblins would probably still have a record of the ring's commission and creation... It wouldn't harm to get Bill to look into it...to see what we're up against...'

'Hmm...? No. No, it wouldn't,' Molly agreed. 'But, oh Minerva, how could Severus do something so... heinous? Their union was Blessed by the Goddess herself. Why would he feel the need to go to such lengths to-to...?'

'Entrap her?' Minerva offered. 'Probably because he's the most insecure wizard you're ever likely to meet. And what do you mean, "blessed"?'

'Oh, it's um... what I call it.' Catching Albus' eye, Molly blushed scarlet and stared into her goblet.

'Molly...?' Minerva tried not to smirk as she peered over her spectacles, pursing her lips as if she were about to address a disobedient first year rather than one of her oldest friends. 'Spit it out, dear. You're hardly amongst strangers here. Nothing you say will leave this office.'

Molly, not looking terribly convinced, fortified herself with a large gulp of Gillywater. 'Well...' she said finally. 'Well, I-er... Are you able to see auras at all?'

'If I try hard. Why? What does that have to do with anything?'

'That morning at Grimmauld Place when we... found out about them. Remember?' She glanced at Minerva seeking confirmation. 'Yes, of course you do.'

'Molly...'

'But you obviously didn't see what I did,' Molly added. 'So much love... Their auras were dancing, Minerva: their hearts joined, their heads crowned with golden light.'

'You saw all that?' Minerva asked, intrigued. The portraits, too, had stilled and were listening intently. 'A blessing, eh...?

Hmm... So, what exactly does that entail?'

'It means,' Molly replied, 'that they have seen into each other's souls. And before you ask, I know this because it happened to Arthur and me...the first time we, um.... And I'll tell you another thing: as a result of it, nothing and no one can come between them. It's like... finding a missing piece of yourself. So, as well as being despicable, binding Hermione was totally unnecessary: there can be nobody else for either of them.'

Minerva shook her head slowly. This could not be good. From what she knew of the nature of binding rings in general and Severus' personality in particular, she was unsure if this 'Blessing' of Molly's wouldn't turn out to be more of a curse: such intensity of feeling was wont to be self-destructive where passions ran high, particularly when emotions such as jealousy and possessiveness were added to the mix...and Merlin only knew that Severus had more than his fair share of both of those. But ultimately, it made little difference: Hermione's fate was sealed. She was beyond their protection. Oh, if only she had been Named...

'Hello?' Two heads turned in the direction of the voice. 'Professor McGonagall? Is Mum there?'

'She is indeed, Miss Weasley,' Minerva replied. 'The Floo is open. You may come through.'

The flames burned green, and a beaming Ginny stooped from under the mantlepiece and into the study. Straightening up, she brushed the soot off her robe and exclaimed, 'Hermione's asked me to be her bridesmaid! Isn't it exciting?' She glanced between her mother and Headmistress, but with no confirming smiles and an atmosphere you could cut with a knife, Ginny's own smile quickly faded. 'Mum? Professor McGonnagall? Is something wrong?'

'Are Severus and Hermione still there?' Molly asked.

'No, they left a few minutes ago...' Ginny's eyebrows rose as she spotted the goblet in her mother's hand. 'Said they were going to Apparate to Hogsmeade, seeing it was such a nice afternoon, and walk back. Now, are you going to tell me what's up? You don't normally drink after lunch.'

Molly sighed. 'It's not every day a Slytherin snake ruins the life of someone I hold dear, either.'

'Mum?'

'Miss Weasley... Ginevra,' Minerva interrupted. 'Your mother and I have had a rather... unpleasant surprise.' A second chair skittered across the room as Minerva invited Ginny to sit down. 'Tell me, do you know anything of binding rings, my dear?'

'Not much,' Ginny admitted, looking puzzled. 'Why? They were outlawed years ago, weren't they?'

'The creation of new ones, yes,' Minerva agreed, nodding. 'But certain pureblood families fought hard to keep any already in their possession...'

'Although, there were just as many families who ended up selling theirs,' Molly butted in, 'to parts of the world where their use is still perfectly acceptable, you know. Even now, the goblins would be only too happy to buy back any that are left and sell them on at a profit. They fetch a pretty penny, too.'

'Quite,' Minerva agreed. 'And the use of those rings that have not been disposed of is also perfectly legal here...provided the witch consents to the binding.' She watched the look of puzzlement on Ginny's face turn to one of understanding and horror as realisation began to dawn. 'Unsurprisingly, few do.'

'Hermione?' Ginny whispered. 'No... She wouldn't consent...Why would anyone consent to such a thing?'

'Because the alternative was often far worse.'

Swivelling around, Minerva craned her neck to look at the speaker above and behind her. 'Thank you for reminding us, Dilys. It's easy to forget what life was often like for young pureblood witches just a few generations back.'

Molly hummed in agreement, but seeing her daughter's disbelieving expression added, 'It was the lesser of two evils, you see, dear...a... kindness, almost, in a time when preserving the bloodlines was more important than anything to a family...and the Prewetts and Weasleys were no exception to this way of thinking...Don't snort like that, Ginny. It's most unladylike.' Molly took a deep breath, sweeping her hand around the room. 'There was a limited choice of partner as well, remember: we're all related some way or another, so you had to be careful who you picked for obvious reasons. Love was a luxury we could rarely afford, yet every witch knew it was her duty to marry and produce offspring to keep the numbers up, as it were.' Ginny still looked unconvinced, so she tried another tack. 'Try to imagine, dear: Your father and I have arranged for you to marry someone much older, who you don't find the least bit attractive, but who you'll marry, anyway, for your family's honour. Your only choice is to endure his... attentions with loathing, or to bind yourself to him with a ring that will at least bring you contentment in the long years you'll have to spend together as well as create a stable home life for any children you may have.'

'Doesn't sound like much of choice to me,' said Ginny, grimacing. 'Although, you make it sound like you approve.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Molly snapped. 'My grandmother had to marry a man thirty years her senior, and I saw what it did to her!'

'Granny Prewett? She was as nutty as a fruitcake.'

'After Grampa died, yes, you're right. She was...' Molly's features softened as some long forgotten memory surfaced. 'I remember a warm, gracious lady who indulged me terribly as a child. But how much of that behaviour was influenced by her binding ring, we'll never know. Once she was free of it, her mind couldn't cope...having been told what to do and think for most of her life, she was incapable of making a the simplest of decisions... Yes, it was all very sad.'

'You're saying that's what Hermione has to look forward to?' Ginny cried. 'But that's horrible!' She looked imploringly at Minerva. 'Please, you've got to do something.'

'I'm afraid our hands are tied, Ginevra,' Minerva said gently. 'But I do know it's not Professor Snape's intention to impinge on Hermione's free will; he gave me his word on that, for what it's worth.'

'Which is absolutely nothing.' Molly's voice was cold. 'Even if he's strong enough to resist the temptation, which I doubt, the ring will work its influence on a more subtle level. No two rings are the same, Ginny, but they all have one objective: to create harmony between two incompatible individuals...and always at the woman's expense. Over time, you'll see Hermione become more docile, slow to anger, less argumentative. She'll put Severus' needs and desires above her own, never wanting to stray far from his side for long...so she can forget a career overseas. In short, one way or another, Hermione will be moulded into the 'perfect' wife...for Severus.' She reached for Ginny's hand and squeezed it. 'I'm sorry, I know it's hard, love, but you need to accept that we can do nothing for her... Oh, Merlin, if only she'd been Named.'

The room seemed to hold its breath. 'Molly,' Minerva said sharply. 'Watch your tongue.'

Ginny barely noticed the silent interchange that followed between her mother and Headmistress. She slumped back in her chair, lost in thought. 'What difference would that have made?' she asked eventually. 'No, please, Professor,' she added as Minerva tried to shush her. 'It might be important.'

'Hmm...' Not one for indulging teenage whims if she could help it, Minerva nevertheless found her curiosity tickled by Ginny's pleading look. 'Very well...' Her chair gave a protesting creak as she twisted around to face the wall behind her once more. 'Dilys, would you mind doing the honours?'

'Not at all.' Clearing her throat, Dilys addressed her fellow heads: 'Gentlemen, your presence is no longer required.'

The three witches waited patiently until the grumbling, shuffling procession of former Headmasters had left the comfort of their frames and then, at Minerva's invitation, the ladies that were left congregated in the painting adjacent to the fireplace recently vacated by Albus Dumbledore.

'Just so we're clear,' said Minerva, 'I'm invoking the sanctity of the Circle.'

'You're a Guardian? Like Mum?' Ginevra asked in awe.

Minerva inclined her head, neither confirming or denying it. 'Now, Ginevra... daughter of Molly, I shall answer your earlier question with a question: How did you feel the first time you declared your name before your sisters?'

'Powerful,' Ginny answered without hesitation. 'I think it was the first time I felt like a proper witch.'

That earned her a smile. 'Quite. Names are powerful things. Some cultures believe that by revealing your true name, you give away part of yourself, so you never do, for fear of granting others power over you. Now, as you learned at your Naming...' Minerva glanced at Molly, who nodded... 'the custom of taking our mothers' name goes back centuries...to our very beginnings, it is said. Even when we lived amongst Muggles and adopted their conventions in order to blend in...taking our fathers' or husbands' names in public...we kept up the practice because it was believed our magic would be diminished otherwise.'

'By surrendering our power to the wizards...' Ginny murmured.

'Exactly. Give up your name; give up your identity.' It seemed she had been paying attention for once. 'Our true names forge a link in a chain down the maternal line that cannot be broken. Your name is, in essence, who you are; once given, it cannot be taken away. Not by a wizard, and certainly not by any ring, which is why no binding can be effective without the witch's consent. If Hermione had been tricked into this... betrothal, and she had been Named, she could never have been forced to submit, but as things stand...' Minerva shrugged.

'I thought so,' Ginny said, looking at her hands. 'But what if...? What if Hermione's name meant as much to her? Enough that she'd decided to keep it...and had it written into the betrothal contract? Would that protect her?'

Molly and Minerva exchanged glances. 'Her father's name?' Molly asked. 'I don't know... Could it be enough? What do you think, Minerva?'

'It's not the same,' Minerva decided after some deliberation. 'But then, if she considers it a part of her identity... Ginny, are you sure Severus agreed to this?'

'Positive,' replied Ginny firmly. 'Hermione told me all about it...how she'd been nervous about broaching the subject, and how Sev...I mean, Professor Snape...hadn't understood at first. But then she explained how she felt she owed it to her parents to make her mark in the world under her 'own' name, and he was fine about it.'

'Well, it's not ideal,' said Minerva, frowning. 'But if Hermione attaches that much importance to it...and, after all, it's the only name she's ever known...she might have a fighting chance.'

'There'll be a fight, sure enough, if that's the case,' Molly said drily. 'A right battle of wills, if I'm not mistaken.'

Minerva paled visibly. 'It could make matters worse, do you think? If Hermione does not bend, she might break?'

'Mum? Is that true?'

'We must face the possibility...Oh, Ginny love, don't cry.' Molly hastily conjured a handkerchief for her daughter who took it gratefully. 'At least we have hope now, but you must realise, if that ring encounters any resistance, there's no telling what tricks it might resort to.'

Ginny sniffed. 'So we just have to wait and hope Hermione's strong enough to beat it? Oh, It's so unfair after all we've been through...and what am I going to tell Harry? He's going to kill him when he finds out.'

'You must try to be circumspect unless you want to see Mr Potter in Azkaban...or Hermione disappear from all our lives if he's unsuccessful,' Minerva answered without a trace of humour. 'So... romanticise it a little. Say... Hermione wanted to-to make a grand gesture, to show the world how much she loved him by binding herself forever, or some such foolery. And remember, she's going to need her friends more than ever; I'm afraid it may fall to you to ensure there is peace between the three of them. But whatever happens, Ginny, please be there for her.'

In the ensuing silence, Minerva observed Ginny wilfully struggle with the tears that were turning her cheeks a blotchy red. Perhaps they were demanding too much of someone so young to carry on as if everything was normal. One thing was sure, though, the girl needed something positive to focus on. 'Now, now,' she said briskly. 'I know it's upsetting, but we need to decide what, if anything, we can do to support her in the meantime. So... Is there anything else you can tell us? Something Hermione said to you, hm? About the contract, perhaps?'

'Not much else, I don't think,' Ginny replied, shaking her head slowly. 'We talked a bit about the wedding, of course... She asked me... Oh, they're going to have a wizarding wedding. Hermione wanted to know if they were all like Fleur's and Bill's, and I said there were all sorts of different traditions. That's about it, really.'

'Hmm,' said Molly. 'Are they, indeed. Well, Hermione may not be my daughter, but I consider her one of my own...and if only for her parents' sake, the least I can do is to see her decently married after this fiasco...'

'You mustn't blame yourself, Molly. You couldn't have known.'

'No, I know, but I can't help feeling it wouldn't have happened if I'd taken time to explain to her some of the pitfalls of being a young, attractive witch.' Molly gazed at Ginny fondly and cast a cooling charm on her tear-stained face. 'But as I was saying, Hermione is like a daughter to me, and as such, she will be married from my hearth as one of my line with me standing beside her.'

The vision of a full-scale, Weasley family wedding with all the trimmings flashed through Minerva's mind. 'Severus might have something to say about that.'

'Is it or is it not the prerogative of the bride's family to decide the proceedings?'

'Yes, but...'

'I want Severus to realise Hermione is not alone,' Molly carried on regardless, 'and that she has the full backing of my family, which he'd better not cross if he knows what's good for him.'

'Sisters, sisters, you're all forgetting something.'

Three heads turned towards the speaker in surprise. 'Love,' said Dilys Derwent. 'You're forgetting the power of love.'

'With all due respect, Professor Derwent,' said Ginny, 'we know Hermione and Professor Snape love one another.'

'I didn't mean that,' said Dilys. 'I meant the love you all have for her.'

They stared at her blankly.

'Time and time again when I was working at St Mungo's,' Dilys continued with a smile, 'I saw its healing effects: protection spells cast by mothers on their children, husbands taking comfort from the touch of their wives, blessings and prayers for the dying. Those with loved ones at their sides always fared better than those who did not; sometimes there were miraculous recoveries... You should not discount it.'

'Protection spells...?' Molly said, glancing at Minerva. 'I wonder... It's not much, but every little helps.'

'Yes...' Minerva agreed. 'I don't see why not. And... if Hermione could be persuaded, we might arrange an old-fashioned wizarding wedding for her, if you get my drift.'

'You're reading my mind,' said Molly, with a wicked smirk.

Ginny started to giggle. 'You're talking about the ancient rites, aren't you?'

'Yes. What's so funny?'

'Old-fashioned isn't the word,' replied Ginny, still grinning. 'I can't see Hermione buying it, somehow. Though I'd love to see Professor Snape in his wedding raiment, barefoot with a wreath around his head and all.'

Minerva had to cover her mouth as she'd been thinking much the same thing. 'But as a Muggle-born, don't you think she might find its symbolism appealing? Vows taken in a sacred grove before a representative of the Goddess...in this case me...with no artifice allowed? Just two people declaring their love for each another? The ceremony is simple and, in my opinion, quite beautiful. Right up Hermione's street, I'd have thought.'

'The ceremony, maybe,' Ginny agreed, 'but the bridal raiment...?'

'A minor detail,' said Molly with a dismissive wave. 'I shall explain its significance and why generations of our family chose to wear it. When she takes her vows, she will be surrounded by all the love and blessings woven into its very fabric by every mother who's dressed her daughter in it on her wedding day. And we'll add some more, of course.'

'I'd better not call it the family shroud in her presence, then.'

Molly gave her daughter a withering look. 'No, you'd better not. In fact, I'm counting on you to back me up.'

'Oh, all right, I'll do my best to persuade her,' Ginny said, 'on condition that you don't try to make me wear the thing when my turn comes.'

Minerva choked back a laugh. 'That's a start, but before we go casting spells willy-nilly, I wonder if it would be possible to attach some protection to a personal item...some sort of gift from one of us, perhaps? Something Hermione would treasure...'

'What about her locket?' Ginny offered. 'If we could get our hands on it, that is. She never takes it off.'

'She shall,' said Minerva. 'On her wedding day.'

The other two nodded sagely. They could easily manage that.

They fell into a thoughtful silence; Minerva took the opportunity to down the last of her Gillywater. Their spirits had risen noticeably, but there was still a nagging suspicion on her part that they were clutching at straws. 'I think...' she said slowly, 'if you're both in agreement, I'd like to propose we bring in Septima Vector. Her expertise may be just what we need at this point. To ensure our actions won't make matters worse in the long run and to give us a hint as to the timescale involved.'

'I think that's an excellent idea, Minerva,' said Molly. Ginny, too, quickly agreed.

'Then I'll send for her. Luckily for us, she's spending the holidays in the castle.' She turned to her fellow headmistresses, but one of their number had already gone scuttling off to look for the Arithmancy mistress.

'There's no need for you to hang around for Professor Vector, Ginevra,' Minerva said, rising from her chair. 'She may not be able to do the calculations here and now, in any case. You'll find the Floo powder on the shelf next to the mantlepiece, my dear.'

Recognising a dismissal when she saw one, Ginny didn't stop to argue the point. But as she was about to throw the powder into the grate, she paused: 'Mum, what happened to Granny Prewett's ring?'

'I keep it in a special vault at Gringotts,' Molly replied without hesitation. 'Not even your dad knows about it, and once you're safely married, I'll give you the key. It'll then be up to you what you do with it.'

'Destroy it,' Ginny said, the fire burning green behind her as she dropped the powder. 'I won't be responsible for ruining the life of some other poor woman.' And then she was gone.

'Little Ginny is turning into a sensible young witch,' Minerva said, attending to a stray cinder that had landed on the hearth rug.

'Had to grow up too fast, too soon,' said Molly. 'But then, haven't they all, that generation?'

'Indeed,' Minerva replied. 'Indeed. Which brings me back to Hermione...' This next part was not going to be easy, but there was no way of avoiding it. Minerva trailed her fingers along the edge of her desk, playing for time, before she dropped the bombshell. 'Molly, you need to know... In order for Septima's calculations to be as precise as possible, I will have to reveal a long held confidence, for which, under the circumstances, I do not feel the least shred of guilt.'

'I assume you're talking about Severus,' said Molly.

Guilt ridden or not, it was still hard for her to speak of it. Minerva had never wanted more to assume her Animagus alter-ego and turn her back on humanity. She needed to move in order to breathe: to chase, to pounce, to dig her claws into something fleshy...preferable the tender parts of a certain wizard. But it would have to wait. 'You assume correctly.'

A window latch, rattling in the breeze, provided a welcome distraction. She walked over to it slowly. 'You said the ring would use any means possible to bend Hermione to Severus' will,' Minerva began, giving the handle a firm tug. 'I would have thought the most effective way of doing that would be to go through Severus himself...' Her eyes were drawn downwards, towards the far end of the drive where she'd spotted two cloaked figures passing through the main gate. The expected shiver ran through her as the wards shifted to admit them. She paused, watching, as the taller of the two locked the gate behind him, the smaller touching his arm and pointing towards the Quidditch pitch. Steeling herself, Minerva turned to face Molly.

'When I took over the leadership of the Order,' Minerva began, 'and once we'd discovered that Severus was spying for us, I had regular meetings with Alastor Moody to discuss any intelligence that had been passed on. Alastor, as you can imagine, took his duties as Severus' 'handler' very seriously.'

'Constant vigilance,' Molly murmured.

'Quite so. Alastor being Alastor never fully trusted him, and by the time I knew about the spying, he'd compiled quite a dossier on Severus' comings and goings.' Minerva paused, remembering her shock at the contents. 'They say you can never truly know anyone, Molly, and... well, it turned out Severus was a valued customer at a... how can I put it, a... house of correction.' Minerva hoped that her emphasis would be enough for Molly to grasp her meaning so that she'd be spared the embarrassment of elaborating further. By the look on her face, however, Molly obviously hadn't the faintest clue what she was on about. 'Molly,' Minerva tried again, 'Severus was, and quite possibly still is... Oh, dear, this is so difficult. Severus has a... how can I put it... a penchant for whips and chains.'

* * *

Oh, not today. Hermione grimaced, clutching her side as the first tell-tale signs of an imminent period made their presence felt. 'Thanks for indulging me,' she puffed, glancing back. 'I really wanted to see this before the official dedication.' And a few inconvenient cramps and twinges weren't about to put her off...even if the slope did seem a lot steeper than usual.

'It is quite understandable,' said Severus, following close behind. 'Watch your step; we're almost at the barrier.'

Hermione felt the tingle of magical wards as they drew closer, along with the overwhelming feeling that the Transfiguration essay she'd been assigned for the holidays needed to be started right this minute. Severus' steadying grip on her elbow was the only thing that stopped her from sprinting back to the castle.

'Just take a deep breath and push through.' Still holding on, Severus stepped over the invisible line with Hermione in tow. The Disillusionment spell wobbled and then dissipated, revealing what Hermione had come to see: The Field of the Fallen.

The quiet, understated dignity of the white markers brought Hermione up short. She glanced about her, tears prickling in the corner of her eyes, searching for the one stone she really wanted to see. 'Oh... I had no idea...'

'Come,' said Severus, reaching for her hand. 'I wish to inspect the obelisk.'

Silently, Hermione and Severus covered the last few yards to what had been the epicentre of the battle, Hermione looking about her, remembering, as they went, Severus staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on his goal.

'I hope people won't see this as a monument to Voldemort,' Hermione remarked as they reached the black marble marker. 'Or attract, um, former admirers.'

'Indeed not.' Severus drew his wand and gave the obelisk the once over for any evidence of hidden marks or sigils. Old habits died hard. 'It is fortunate that the memorial to the war dead is on school property. I imagine Minerva will have already taken such an unpleasant prospect into consideration.'

Hermione nodded, walking around the stone to get her bearings. 'I was standing just about... here,' she said. 'It's funny. Things seem a lot closer together than I remember. Must be the daylight, I suppose.'

'It seemed to me like I'd traversed half of Scotland by the time I got here,' Severus said with the tiniest hint of a smirk.

'You looked like it, too.' Hermione grinned back, but quickly sobered. 'And I was never more glad to see anyone in my life, even though... you didn't look particularly pleased to see me.'

Severus quirked an eyebrow, his own memories of that dreadful night tumbling around in his head. 'Actually, my first thought when I saw you in the midst of all that chaos was to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to safety. It took all of my willpower, standing behind you while Potter faced that...' He jabbed a finger at the obelisk '...monster, not to do just that.' The air around him crackled as anger crept into Severus' voice, but a few calming breaths saw it dissipate just as quickly. For a moment, he stared at the ground, and when he spoke again, his voice was so soft Hermione almost missed it. 'So, no, I was not pleased to see you, but not for the reasons you imagined.'

A sharp gust of wind from the east made Hermione shiver in spite of the weak spring sunshine. She gave Severus a wry smile as she gathered her cloak more tightly about her and gazed into the distance, watching an eagle circling high above the craggy mountains. It was a hard, pitiless landscape beyond the relative safety of Hogwarts' grounds: ancient, unyielding, indifferent to the plight of humans, Muggle and wizard alike. Their skirmishes were as nothing to the silent gaze of those eternal peaks. A mere blink of an eye: not worthy of a measly footnote in their history. And all too soon, the only evidence that a battle had ever taken place on this insignificant patch of earth would be a few mossy stones and the memories of the survivors. Hermione suddenly felt very old.

'Pointless... All so utterly... pointless...'

Severus closed the short distance between them so fast that Hermione took a reflexive step backwards as he entered her personal space. He loomed over her, eyes blazing. 'Are you implying that my...that their sacrifice...all that was for nothing?'

'No, of course not.' Hermione huffed, pushing her wind-strewn hair from her face as she recovered her composure. 'Don't be angry. I'm sorry. That's not what I meant at all.' Hesitantly, she placed the palm of her hand against Severus' chest, but his countenance remained fixed, demanding she expound on her opinion. 'What I meant was... Is anything ever learnt from these conflicts? Voldemort followed on the heels of Grindelwald pretty quickly, didn't he? People died then, and it changed nothing. What's to say the next Dark wizard isn't already waiting in the wings, planning to take over the wizarding world as soon as he gets the chance? It just seems to me that... we're in the middle of some kind of unbreakable cycle, that's all.' She bowed her head, willing for him to understand. 'So many good people lost their lives or loved ones, Severus. I can't help thinking it was all such a waste.'

'Do you? I'm afraid I must disagree.'

Severus moved again with lightning speed, seizing Hermione by the waist and spinning her around so she was flush against his body. She squealed in surprise, her feet lifting off the ground as, in one smooth movement, Severus whirled to face the castle.

'Oww. What are you doing?' Dangling in mid-air, Hermione wrestled to regain her footing, but Severus' arms were like a steel girdle, pinning her in place. She soon realised there was little point in struggling.

'Tell me,' he said, slowly and deliberately. 'What do you see?'

'I see Hogwarts, the lake, some stones and a lot of grass,' Hermione replied crossly. 'Now, put me down!'

His grip relaxed slightly, allowing Hermione to slither down until her feet made contact with the grass. 'And if we had lost,' Severus persisted, 'and assuming Voldemort had not closed Hogwarts completely, do you think you, or any other Muggle-born, would have been allowed to attend?'

'I suppose not,' she mumbled.

'No, and you most probably would not have survived for very long in his version of a perfect wizarding world...' The back of one hand sneaked up Hermione's side until it found the outward swell of her breast. '... Would you, hmm?' It turned to cup its prize gently. 'Which really would have been a waste, don't you think?'

'Severus... not here...'

'Everyone who was present that night...Order members, Death Eaters, your... Mr Weasley...knew the risks and fought for what they believed in despite the odds.' Severus fingers insinuated themselves inside Hermione's cloak and took up their former positions despite her half-hearted attempts at stopping them. 'It was their choice to stay and fight, was it not?'

'Yes... I understand, but...oh, don't...'

'Hush...' Severus whispered. 'Now. Close your eyes and tell me what you feel.'

'W-what?' She bit back a moan. 'I'd have thought that was-uh obvious.'

'Indulge me.'

'We-ll, I can feel... the wind. On my face... Your body against me... Your hand on my... breast.'

'Ye-ess, but that was not quite what I meant.' Severus' breath was like molten chocolate against her neck, and she couldn't help but shudder at his touch. 'It would appear further... stimulus is required in order for you to fully appreciate my point.'

Hermione felt the rush of cold air against her skin before her brain caught up with the result of Severus' wandless spell. Her eyes flew open:

'Have you lost your MIND!' she yelled, gazing down in horror at her robe, neatly slit to just below the waist, and her underwear, lying discarded at her feet.

Severus chuckled softly. 'No one can see us. Now feel.'

'I'm bloody, nobblingly cold,' Hermione snapped. 'This isn't funny, Severus.'

'It's not meant to be, my sweet.' He tweaked a nipple playfully. 'Beautiful, and so responsive, too. Though, with this wind, I cannot claim all the credit for it.' Releasing her waist, Severus' other hand strayed inside her robe, making ever-so-slow, lazy circles around her belly. 'Are you beginning to sense the purpose of this exercise, yet?'

Hermione gave a throaty sigh, closed her eyes once more and arched into his touch. There didn't seem much point in objecting, despite the inappropriateness of the location, and his hands were doing rather marvellous things. She decided to humour him. 'It feels... good,' she said at last.

'A little more specific, if you please,' Severus crooned, his hand dipping lower to tease her pubes. 'Describe the sensations in... detail.'

Hermione's mind was drifting off as the pleasure his fingers were exacting began to fog her reasoning. What was he getting at? What did he want her to say? A moan escaped as a delicious shiver ran down her spine, and something deep within clenched in response to his maddeningly delicate caresses. Maybe that was it.

'O-kay...' she ventured. 'I feel... my heart rate increasing... blood pounding in my ears, and I feel... feel... achy a-and... empty...'

'Ah... Very good.' Severus' movements ceased abruptly. 'Which has resulted in this delightful... wetness. Look.'

Hermione lifted drowsy eyelids as Severus brought glossy fingers into her line of vision. Why had he stopped? Was he trying to drive her to insanity?

'This tells me,' Severus murmured, ignoring Hermione's groan of frustration, 'that your body is ready and willing to receive me, and in case you are in any doubt, I am more than ready to accommodate it. Now, open your mouth...'

Hermione obeyed, sucking greedily on Severus' fingers. Groaning, he sank to his knees, giving Hermione no option but to follow him down. She didn't object to him manoeuvring her onto all fours on the cold, damp ground or to the hurried way he rearranged their clothing or even to his hard and forceful entry. It was only when he stilled inside her that she gave him a questioning look over her shoulder. With a smirk, Severus grabbed her hips, pulling her back towards him so she was straddling his knees. He quickly undid the clasps of Hermione's cloak, yanked the ruined robe over her shoulders to gain better access to her neck and returned his hands to her now fully exposed breasts. Massaging them gently, he swallowed hard.

'Feel that?'

'Oh, yes.' How could she not? His cock flexed inside her, hard and eager, filling her as only he could, but more than that, Hermione could sense the underlying tension in Severus' body as he fought to maintain control. The stillness was killing her; she desperately needed to move, to break that control, but he wasn't having any of it.

'Let me tell you what I... feel,' he rasped between clenched teeth. 'I can feel muscles clenching, ready to milk me dry... Heat, wetness, your womb primed to receive my seed. I feel alive, Hermione. We survived. Together we will go on...forge a world the others would have been proud to be a part of...for ourselves and for our... children...' Without warning, Severus tipped Hermione off his lap and quickly stood. 'Lesson over,' he said, offering a hand to help her up. 'It is much too cold to continue this here.'

'Wha...?' The look Hermione gave him could have frozen a volcano, but she reached for the proffered hand, anyway, allowing Severus to haul her to her feet.

Her scowl had little effect on Severus, who merely appeared amused, indulgent even, at her show of annoyance, which only incensed Hermione further. 'Don't look at me like that,' he said, drawing his reluctant fiancee into his arms and giving her a quick peck on the forehead. 'You set my blood afire, woman; I want to lavish all the attention on you that you so richly deserve...in the sanctity of our... own... mmm... Bed. So, if you wish to continue this, I suggest you hurry back to our rooms and wait for me there. I will return presently.'

Just like that? Hermione pushed away from him, still miffed, repaired her robe and stooped to gather up her underwear. Did he honestly think he could get away with leaving her high and dry like that? 'I'll see you later, then,' she said coolly, turning to go. 'I have something I need to attend to first.'

'Hermione...'

'What?'

Severus held out his hand. 'Knickers...if you please...'

Hermione paused before wordlessly handing over her knickers, though she was blushing furiously as she did so. It had been a while since they'd played that particular game.

'And don't keep me waiting too long.'

Her mouth opened, then clammed shut again. Quickly, she turned away, scurrying off down the hill without further comment, red-faced and flustered. She didn't dare look back; he was probably laughing his head off, the git, but she wasn't about to just cave in and let him have it all his own way. She'd return to his chambers when she was good and ready.

It never occurred to her that she was taking the most direct route back to the castle; neither did she question why she was running nor did she spare a glance for the stone she leapt over in her haste...the one she'd come here especially to see. Ron's marker might just as well have been invisible; it lay unnoticed, forgotten, as were all thoughts of Ron himself.

Severus watched as Hermione ran, occasionally slipping and sliding on the damp grass...almost falling once or twice...until she was well beyond the barrier and almost out of sight. Only then did he contemplate the skimpy garment he was holding, savouring the moment before bringing it up to his nose and inhaling. Mmm... scent of Hermione... Chuckling to himself, Severus let his hand drop, using the knickers like a hanky to wipe off the mess on his still semi-hard cock.

Blood...?

Well, that certainly explained the grumpiness. And, knowing Hermione, she was going to be a fiend for chocolate over the next few days, too, so ordering some extra helpings of her favourite pudding from the kitchens mightn't be a bad idea...

Hopefully, there will be no need of it next month.

Severus snorted. 'No children. Not for the foreseeable future...'

A child would soon curb that willful temper, and besides, you're not getting any younger. Do you want to be tripping over toddlers in your fifties?

The comment barely scratched his consciousness, a more pressing need he'd been astutely ignoring...the inevitable outcome of the Weasleys' hospitality...could no longer be denied. Molly's cooking had been plaguing his digestion since they'd arrived at the gates, and with no means of relieving himself, he'd had to grin and bear it. It was all Arthur's fault, of course, insisting they celebrate the occasion properly with the consumption of a copious amount of (it had to be said, rather excellent) elf-made wine on top of one of Molly's rib-sticking Sunday lunches.

...or teenage tantrums in your sixties?

He shuddered. The very idea.... Still, plenty of time for that, but right now, he had the increasingly persistent discomfort of an over-stuffed stomach and a full bladder to contend with... Severus grinned evilly, glancing around to make absolutely sure he was alone, and strolled over to the obelisk.

'Well... How the mighty have fallen...' He bowed mockingly at the small monument before adjusting his dress and taking up a comfortable stance. 'I must confess, my lord, that I shall relish this...' With a sigh that could only come from the contentment of release, Severus took aim. The jet of urine splashed against the black marble, steam rising into the air. It could all have ended just as easily for him here, Severus mused as he christened the obelisk, his life's purpose summed up by some nameless stone. Few people would've put money on him surviving with the crap odds he'd had, at any rate. But he was still very much alive, free of not one but two masters, and by some miracle betrothed to an eager young witch destined to warm his bed for the rest of his days.

Life, he thought, shaking the drips, doesn't get much better than this.