The Choices are Presented

Hermione Granger sat in her Head Girls' room, early morning light trickling into her window, the parchment detailing the new marriage law was held loosely in her hand as she stared at the wall. She had read it through twice.

When she first returned to her room the previous evening she had tried to sleep, but could not. And so she decided to read the law. The provisions were fairly straightforward, but were frightening. The Muggle-borns had no rights in these marriages. Whoever she married, she may as well be their chattel. She could not hold a job without her husband's permission; she would not even be able to open her own bank account without permission of her husband.

The injustice did not stop there. One word kept repeating in her head, 'consummation'...she had read the coitus clause over several times. The whole point of the muggleborn marriage act was a revitalization of the wizard population, and so "coitus of not less than weekly frequency" was required. And, while the use of contraceptive potions were not strictly forbidden, they were now nearly impossible to come by. The Ministry had legislated that they should not be sold any longer, and certain key ingredients for contraceptive potions were no longer sold as well. It may be possible not to become pregnant for a few years simply by lucky chance, but it was inevitable. They had not actually legislated that the couple must reproduce, but in effect they may as well have.

As the light in the room grew, she decided it was time to face the day. She'd had no sleep, but a shower and a generous amount of coffee would get her through. Professor McGonagall had told her last night she was excused from classes today, but she had to meet with her other option today and she had no idea who he would be. So, it was a mystery man, or Professor Snape. At this point she just wanted to wait and see who the mystery man was before she thought more about Professor Snape.

In the shower she adjusted the magical shower head to provide her with a stinging needle spray. As the water buffeted her body she found awareness arising once more. By the time she exited and toweled herself dry with forceful friction she felt much better physically.

Soon enough, after her second cup of coffee, she felt as ready as she could be to face the day. A knock sounded on her door, and she rose from the chair and crossed the room to open it. She was relieved to see it was Harry.

"Hermione, how are you doing?" he asked with concern.

"As best as can be expected, I think...how's Ron?"

"He's awake, I visited him for a little while this morning. He asked about you, we're all worried about what will happen now, Dumbledore told us he had a plan...did he tell you about it yet?"

"Yes," she sighed as she went back to her chair and sunk into it, wrapping her arms around herself. "He has two people who can offer to marry me...I'll be meeting with one today, I don't know who he is except that he's a member of the Order. The other is Professor Snape."

"Snape? You're kidding! He wouldn't do that to you," Harry exclaimed. He ran a hand through his tousled, black hair and flopped into the chair opposite Hermione.

"Well, I don't know who the other person is yet...honestly I'm worried since Professor Dumbledore seemed to think Professor Snape was the better option."

"Gods, Hermione...I'm so sorry. I wish there were some other way."

"Me too," she sighed.

They lapsed into worried silence. He wanted to be there for her, and he wished like nothing else he could fix this for her. "Do you want me to be with you when you meet the other person?"

"I don't know...I wish Professor Dumbledore would have told me who he wants me to meet. But, if you want to be there that would be good, I would appreciate it Harry." Hermione became aware that her stomach was growling, but she really didn't feel up to breakfast in the great hall. She decided that despite the butterflies in her stomach, it would be best to get a little bit of food at least and so she used her privilege as Head Girl to floo an order for breakfast to the kitchen. "Harry?" she asked with her head in the fireplace, "do you want breakfast here?"

"Yeah, that'll be great."

Once they had finished their breakfast a knock was heard on the door before it opened. "Miss Granger?" it was Professor McGonagall standing in the opened doorway.

"Come in Professor McGonagall."

"Good morning Miss Granger, Mr. Potter...how are you feeling Hermione?" she asked with concern.

"Tired, worried," she replied while fidgeting with a scrap of toast in the mushroom gravy on her plate.

"Professor Dumbledore sent me to get you; he has someone for you to meet."

"Oh, okay...can Harry come too?"

Their head of house looked at Harry with clear compassion and said, "Very well, but if the Headmaster asks you should leave immediately."

"But Professor..."

"No Mr. Potter, I'm sorry but that is that," her stern tone was countered with her concern. "Now, let's go."

The three walked to the Headmasters office in tense silence. When they reached the gargoyle, Professor McGonagall addressed Hermione, "Miss Granger, I want you to know that although this seems like a terrible thing now, Albus is doing his best to help you, and I know that whichever option you choose, everything will be fine in the long run."

Harry grasped her by the shoulders. "I'm here for you, Hermione."

Hermione nodded and followed her Professor up the spiral staircase and into the office. She was surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt there as well. Could he be her other option? She really didn't know him outside the work he had done in the Order. Apparently though, Harry did know him quite well.

"Kingsley! What a relief," Harry exclaimed as he strode over where the tall, ebony man was standing. The two embraced, slapping each other on the back and smiling turned to Hermione, who stood looking a bit stunned, but had a shy smile.

"Harry," the headmaster interrupted, "Hermione, Mr. Shacklebolt, please have a seat." The headmaster also sat down once more at his desk. "Lemon drop?" he offered a dish of the yellow sweets. All declined and he plopped one into his mouth to suck on it.

"Harry, it was good of you to come and offer your support to your friend. Now, Miss Granger, Mr. Shacklebolt is the other person who is able to petition for marriage. I have arranged for you to speak at length with Professor Snape this afternoon as well so you may make the best decision."

"Headmaster Dumbledore, you absolutely can't be serious about Hermione marrying Professor Snape! That's just so wrong..." he trailed off as the headmaster held a hand up to still him.

"Harry, I must ask that you allow Hermione to decide for herself what her choice will be. This is her life, and she needs to make this decision herself; do you understand?"

"Yes sir," he replied, sounding somewhat perturbed.

"Hermione," Kingsley now spoke in a rich, deep baritone, "Headmaster Dumbledore tells me that you must get married quickly, and that your current offers leave quite a bit to be desired."

"Yes," she agreed, "they do."

"He asked me here to speak with you and offer a petition for marriage. I will answer any questions you have for me."

"Oh, thank you," she replied. Hermione was quite aware of being the center of attention in the room and it was not a comfortable feeling. Sensing this, Dumbledore rose from his seat.

"Now, Professor McGonagall and I will leave you to talk. Harry, I think it best that we leave Mr. Shacklebolt and Hermione to talk alone for a while. You may catch up with him at lunch."

Harry looked uncertain for a bit, he wanted to stay, but at the same time he realized Hermione was uncomfortable with all the attention. "Alright," he agreed. Then, he turned to Hermione and said softly, "Don't worry now, it'll be all right, Kingsley is great." He left the room then with Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Once they left, Hermione turned directly to the large, bald man. He was quite an imposing figure, but he had a friendly aura. She had seen him during the war on a number of occasions, as well as at Order headquarters, but had never spoken at length with him. Apparently, Harry had, and thought well of him. He smiled gently at her, revealing a flash of white teeth which contrasted starkly with his deep ebony skin.

"Well," she finally started, "I'm really not sure where to start."

"I understand," he said, "I can start, and you can ask questions wherever you think you may need to."

Hermione nodded and listened as he spoke. His voice was quite nice, she realized, as he told her about himself. It was a nearly musical quality, deep and rich and kind. His family originated from the wizard lines of Africa, and had come to England only in the last century. He spoke some of his job as an Auror, his hobbies – watching Quidditch and reading mystery novels.

He seemed really nice, and Hermione began to think this might not be so bad after all. Harry liked him, so if she did have to marry someone, better it be someone who would be friends with her friends. He was also a respected Auror, he spoke easily and gently, yet she knew that if need should arise he was quite powerful; he would be able to protect her.

Finally, after a generous introduction and overview of his life, he turned to the topic at hand. "You know, I had always wanted to settle down and have a family, but really hadn't perused it before now. I know this is sudden, but I'm sure we will be able to get along well. I make enough money as an Auror that we can afford a good house once the children come, but for now my flat in London isn't bad. You'll have an allowance, of course, and whatever you want to do with your free time you would be free to pursue," he explained.

Hermione hadn't heard much after 'once the children come,' and so decided to ask. "So, you want children?"

"Oh yes, I love children. I never thought I'd have time to meet someone and start a family, but now I think we can make the best of it. You know, twins run in my family, I was something of an exception, really, not being a twin...so I'm sure we will have a large family, I've always liked the Weasley's, and wouldn't mind matching them in example."

"Oh..."

"Professor Dumbledore tells me that if you choose me, you can take your NEWT's early."

"Oh, he did?" She was reeling now. Her last hope, Kingsley Shacklebolt, wanted a gaggle of kids.

"Yes...you would live at my place...well; it would be our place if we get married. But from what I hear you're so far ahead on your studies that you won't miss too much not being here for your last year. We'll come up and visit your friends as often as possible."

She nodded dumbly as she watched him. He wasn't a bad looking man at all. Rather striking really...the light glinted off his shaven head, and the gold earring sparkled by his face. He had a kind smile, and deep mahogany eyes which glinted with laughter and good cheer. He was well built, and his robes fell over his shoulders in a way which seemed to accentuate the muscular body beneath them.

She wondered what their kids would look like...she tried to imagine coffee-with-cream skinned children with her features and his mixed together. It wasn't a bad image at all. But still, twins ran in his family? She wanted kids...or maybe a child someday, once she had finished school and had a career of some kind. She couldn't imagine wanting more than two at the most...the Weasley's were great, but she knew that kind of life just was not for her. She wondered how easy it would be to come by the ingredients to make her own contraceptive potions. And speaking of potions...

*****

An hour after the meeting she was sitting in her room once more with Harry. He seemed quite excited...she had listened to him for the last half hour regaling her with tales of his adventures with Kingsley, and what a great, nice guy he was. It was with some irritation that Hermione realized that Harry had already made his mind up as to who she would be marrying.

"I know this whole marriage law thing is bad, it really is terrible, but I'm glad Kingsley could help you out here."

"Harry, I haven't made my decision yet," she reminded him.

"It's not like you have much to go with here...come on, you can't marry Snape."

Honestly, she was starting to wonder.

*****

Professor Snape paced in his living room. The girl would be here in a few moments to meet with him to discuss this ridiculous proposal of Dumbledore's. He had to meet with her; Dumbledore wouldn't let him back out of a meeting, pointless as it was.

Right on time he heard a knock at his door.

"Enter," he called out as he dropped the wards on his rooms. He watched as an unusually timid and tired looking Miss Granger walked into his living room, looking at him warily. He scowled at her and said, "Sit, Miss Granger...the Headmaster insists we continue with this useless meeting, so let's get it over with."

Hermione walked to one of the rich, hunter-green leather chairs situated near the cold fireplace and sat. She watched as Professor Snape stalked over to a cabinet, withdrew two glasses, and poured generous portions of what she thought was brandy. He brought her one, and then sat heavily opposite her.

"Well Miss Granger, I suppose congratulations are in order...To the Future Mrs. Shacklebolt," he said and knocked back his drink.

"Professor?"

"What?"

"Um...I haven't actually decided yet...and Professor Dumbledore told me you were also submitting a petition for me...right?"

"Please Miss Granger; we both know how ridiculous that is. He insists that we meet, but it would be much better to choose Shacklebolt. You do agree, don't you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione considered his rather rhetorical question carefully as she looked down at her glass before raising it and taking an experimental taste. The harsh liquor caused her face to twist and she coughed. When she looked back at Snape he had an amused smirk on his face. "Actually, I'm not sure I agree. I simply haven't decided yet. I had a very informative meeting with Kingsley this morning, and now I'm meeting with you. Supposedly, this is to evaluate my options."

"Miss Granger, you do not want to be married to me." His former amused smirk melted from his face.

"Why not?" she asked, and took another, this time larger sip, of the brandy. Somehow, though it was entirely inappropriate, she saw some twisted humor in this.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice rose in alarm. "Where have you been for the last seven years? I thought you had been in my class, raising your hand and taking every opportunity to spout your knowledge...I see I was mistaken in thinking you may have been paying attention all that time."

"So then why did you agree to submit a petition?"

"Because, Miss Granger, Dumbledore was quite adamant that you have at least the illusion of a choice in this matter. That's all it is, an illusion. You will marry Shacklebolt. He's a great friend of Potter; he will simply be another addition to your group of friends, albeit one with whom you will engage in at least weekly intercourse, as demanded by law. Potter and Weasley will be happy, Dumbledore will be happy, I'm sure even your parents will be happy, and I will remain alone as I prefer to." His scathing, sarcastic tone struck Hermione like a bucket of ice water.

"I see," she said guardedly, contemplating what she should say next.

The glare he gave her caused her insides to clench. But, since she was here, she may as well play along and question him. She felt certain Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to deduct points or give her detention for what was said, as long as it was within reason, in this meeting. "No, I don't think you do Miss Granger. Do you realize what life with me would be like?"

"I thought the purpose of this meeting was to determine that, Professor," she retorted.

"Have you read this law...do you realize we would be required to consummate a marriage, should one take place between us?"

"Yes...that would be required if I married Kingsley as well," she tried to state it bravely, but couldn't help but blush and look down into her cup.

"Look at me, Miss Granger," he said softly. She felt compelled to do so. "Do you really want to know what it would be like to be my wife?" he asked, his voice dangerously low, his face now wore an evil looking smile. She nodded, he continued, "As my wife, you would not have a doting husband to buy you gifts, or to read you sonnets. You would live here in the dungeons with me, you could spend your time studying, or at a job, I care not of those matters. But, I would take full advantage of the coitus clause, and I would do so with great pleasure."

Hermione's eyes widened and she blushed further.

"However, I do not want you to have any illusions that I would be a romantic lover...no, I would not be. I seriously doubt that you would want to know what exactly my sexual proclivities are, but I would have no intention of holding back for your sake. You should know better than to consider a former Death Eater such as myself."

She sat, stunned.

"Now, drink up," he said lightly, seemingly as if his previous threats were not voiced. Drink she did. He summoned the bottle of brandy and re-filled their glasses. She could already feel the slight tingling of the alcohol permeating her system, lowering her defenses and inhibitions.

She drank again, and thought about the entire absurd situation. Why on earth would Professor Dumbledore have thought Snape could possibly be a good choice for her? Perhaps he didn't know what a bastard he could be? Or, perhaps Professor Snape was simply trying to drive her away. After a good five minutes of silence, she forged ahead.

"And what about friends?"

He frowned at her, brows furrowed.

"I mean, would you want to stop me from being around my friends?"

His eyebrows shot up. He let out a short bark of a laugh which didn't sound joyful in the least. He thought she would have abandoned the idea by now. Clearly, he hadn't scared her enough. "If your friends would still be around after you've married the great, greasy bat of the dungeons, I would not prevent you from seeing them. However, I don't think you understand what I mean regarding my sexual proclivities. Tell me then; have your lovers been gentle with you?"

"Um...I haven't..." she trailed off as she spoke, thoroughly embarrassed at this line in the conversation.

"You haven't what? You mean Potter and Weasley have been following you around like lovesick puppies for seven years and you've never given in to them? What about that Krum celebrity?"

This was getting a bit uncomfortable, but she steeled herself and glared at him. "No, I have not ever had..." she couldn't quite bring herself to say 'sex' "...but there is no reason for you to be rude about it."

"So then you're an innocent...untouched. Whoever your husband is would have to give you lessons perhaps?" he asked, mocking her.

"Listen, just because I haven't ever had sex," this time she was angry enough to say it, "that doesn't mean I'm completely ignorant. I have read books....with pictures." She glared at him and crossed her arms.

"Books? With pictures?" Hermione knew that sounded silly, but his scornful impression made it sound like she was a child with a picture book. "Oh my, I should have known the know-it-all would study anything she could," he said in a sultry, derisive voice. "I have a book to show you," he said, smirking as he rose from his chair and crossed the room. He didn't even bother to scan the titles; his hand knew exactly what he was looking for and where it was. He selected a tome from the shelf and brought it to her, tossing it into her lap. "Here is a book you would likely not have seen, take a look," he invited.

She looked at the book, the exterior was unassuming...a rather large book with a worn leather cover, but no title. So, never being one to be afraid of a simple book, she opened it and looked at the first page and gasped. Snape watched her as the color drained from her face and she looked up at him, finally with a hint of fear in her eyes. 'Yes,' he thought, 'this should scare her off.'

If Albus Dumbledore knew what he preferred, he would have never let the prize student of Gryffindor even consider him. He wouldn't be as bad as Lucius Malfoy or the senior Gregory Goyle...she would live, he wouldn't actually seriously harm her...but she would likely be quite sore, quite often.

Hermione couldn't believe what she saw. It was a picture...she had seen pictures in books before...she had even extensively perused the Kara Sutra, but never had she seen anything like this.

A woman stood nude, arms stretched above her head and wrists tied to a post. She was blindfolded and a man stood behind her, a leather strap in his hand. It was not a moving wizard picture, it was still...but she could see from the red streaks across her buttocks, back, and thighs what the strap had been used for.

She turned the page.

Another picture, in this one the woman was bent over a bed, a dark-robed figure stood behind her, once again brandishing a strap. On the plate opposite, the man was entering her from behind, his hands cruelly grasping her hips in a vice-grip...the long, pale fingers digging into her skin.

She turned the page.

At this point it must have been morbid curiosity which drove her on. She gasped as she gazed at this set of pictures. On one page, the woman was bent backwards over a bed with her feet on the floor, her hips rested on the edge of the bed. As before, her hands were tied together and stretched above her head. Once more the dark-robed figure stood over her. She was blindfolded and her mouth was open in a scream as those long fingers pinched and twisted her nipples. On the next page the man had the woman's legs thrown up on his shoulders and he was driving into her as he stood beside the bed.

She turned the page.

This time, the woman was kneeling before the man, his robes were open, exposing a rather large (at least as far as she could tell from what she'd read and the pictures she'd seen) phallus which was inches from her mouth. His hands were entwined in her long, curly, nearly bushy hair. She looked closer...yes; it was bushy, curly, brown hair. She looked even closer...the man had shoulder length black hair...she couldn't see his face fully, but she could make out a distinctive nose and a twisted smirk....oh gods! It was her and Snape.

She snapped the book closed and looked at Snape. Her breath came in shallow gasps and she felt an odd, tickling sensation in her groin. He was sitting calmly, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a smug, superior expression.

"How...that was you and me...how did you do that?"

"Magic, my dear...magic," he said smoothly, clearly enjoying her discomfiture. That particular tome was a favorite of his...it was enchanted to change the pictures based on who viewed it. "Now, Miss Granger, I am sure you understand why you should marry Shacklebolt."

"Wait, why would Professor Dumbledore even suggest this if you...if you want this..." she trailed off, gesturing at the book.

"What makes you think he knows of my personal tastes?"

"But, he wanted for you to protect me from that sort of thing..."

"No, he wanted me to protect you from those who would seriously maim, injure, and possibly kill you. What you saw was not dangerous...it can produce soreness and bruising, but it wouldn't kill you," he explained, still with that smug smirk.

"You're just trying to scare me off," she said, trying to sound like she was surer than she really was.

"Are you willing to take the risk that I'm just trying to scare you? Perhaps I am, and your wedding night will be a blissful encounter of gentle sweetness atop rose petals? But what if I'm being absolutely truthful...are you ready to submit to my command on your wedding night?" He stood as he spoke and crossed the room to pick up a paper off his desk. He looked at it thoughtfully, and then picked up a quill and signed it. Hermione watched with dread as it rolled up and disappeared with a little 'pop'.

"There, my bid is submitted. I suggest you go tell Mr. Shacklebolt that you will be his wife, else you will have to accept my petition." He faced her with his arms crossed; a clear challenge had been issued.

Hermione looked into her brandy glass, empty again. This was unreal, had to be totally unreal. She was surprised when Snape was once again filling her glass; she hadn't noticed him crossing the room.

"I really shouldn't be drinking," she said, starting to feel a bit slow.

"You're an adult in the eyes of the Ministry, and you likely need it. Drink," he prompted just before he took another large gulp from his own glass.

"So you're really serious about all that...that stuff in the book?" She reached over again to pick it up, now not sure why she hadn't run screaming from the dungeon and into those strong, dark arms. Maybe it was the sheer ridiculous situation...she wasn't sure what she had left to loose. She had her choice between a cheerful guy who her friends liked, but who wanted a house full of kids, and a surly professor who wanted to tie her up and spank her. She laughed; it was just too much to not laugh about.

"What is so funny?"

"This whole thing...I mean, I'm stuck with a choice between you and Kingsley Shacklebolt," she laughed again, and realized that the alcohol probably explained her current reaction.

"And why is Shacklebolt such a dismal prospect?" he asked. She thought it odd that his previous threatening tone had gone.

"He wants kids...lots of kids...he thinks the Weasley's are a wonderful example to follow...oh, and twins run in his family."

"And you don't want children? Miss Granger, I'm afraid the Ministry has made the decision for you."

"I don't want children right now...if I did marry Kingsley, I'd have to move in with him in London right away, I wouldn't be able to finish school. And another thing about the ministry...they have made contraceptive potions illegal to sell, but I could make my own...but I'm not sure how it would work with an Auror for a husband."

"True," he agreed. "But you're looking at a lifetime marriage...you can't base this decision on very short-term problems. And, regarding the potions, surely you can find the ingredients to brew your own?"

"I could brew my own, yes...but I would have to lie about it. It doesn't seem right to be married to someone and lie to them," she explained. She thought she was beginning to slur slightly, but hoped it wasn't too bad.

"How utterly Gryffindor of you," he drawled.

"So what about you; do you want kids?"

"I can't believe you're still carrying on with this line of questioning, Miss Granger. The matter should be settled by now."

"No, really...would you want kids?" she persisted. Fear was gone in this surreal situation. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

He paused a moment to think. "I've never really thought much about it as I have never had any prospect by which to acquire an heir. However," he continued, swirling the contents of his glass, "I would not be opposed to a child...perhaps two one day when I am no longer teaching." He couldn't believe that he was actually discussing this with the girl. Though his alcohol tolerance was quite high, he thought he must have consumed just enough to lubricate his tongue.

He looked at her, she was looking in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused. Her face was flushed and he could clearly see that she did not partake in alcohol very often, if ever. She looked contemplative, and Snape wondered if she were actually considering marrying him. The book she had picked up again still sat in her lap, unopened. It appeared she had forgotten its presence.

"Miss Granger," he called to her.

"Yes Professor?" She snapped back to attention, startling slightly.

"Open the book to page fifty-three," he directed, and rose from his chair to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. She paused and looked at the book with trepidation, not wanting to open it, but still curious enough to overcome her nervousness.

She opened the book.

Page fifty-three was blank. She looked back up towards Snape, but he pointed her back to the book. He withdrew his wand and tapped the page, muttering a spell Hermione had never heard before.

She watched, transfixed as lines appeared on the page, quickly becoming a picture of herself, nude and kneeling. A dark robed figure, Snape, came into the picture and stood behind her. She watched as a scene played out on the page. It was a moving wizard picture now, not like the ones she had seen in the front of the book. She watched her own face in the drawing...the wincing which accompanied the painful moments, and the look of thorough arousal she could not have thought herself capable of expressing.

As she watched she became aware of a warm, tingling sensation on the back of her neck. He was twining his fingers in her hair. She took a deep breath, but allowed him to continue, strangely aroused. She continued to watch as the animated drawing of Snape roughly bent her over, and his hand began exploring the drawing herself intimately. Slowly, behind her, he moved his hand through her hair to the base of her skull and she was aware of breath on her ear. She relaxed into the sensation; it was a feeling like none she had ever known.

Suddenly, it all changed. His fist clamped tight in her hair and her head was jerked back. He stood in front of her now, looming and frightening, his dark eyes were fathomless pools in which dangerous secrets seemed to lurk. His other hand traced her jaw line as she froze, petrified by the sudden change. She was shocked to feel his hand drop to her throat, where his fingers wrapped around her windpipe and pressed firmly on either side, finding the arteries pulsing quickly under the muscle and tendon. He pressed against the blood vessels, and Hermione began to feel a light, tingling, floating feeling in her extremities along with a rushing sensation, as if she were being hurled through the air though she remained still.

"Miss Granger, if you accept my offer, I want you to be fully warned ahead of time what awaits you. I will keep you safe from those who wish to seek revenge on you, but I will not be denied my desires," he said in a dangerous whisper.

As suddenly as he had descended upon her, he left, crossing the room to open a cabinet. Hermione grasped the arms of her chair for support, blood rushing back to her head, causing her to feel a rush of dizziness. She shook her head to clear it, and again Professor Snape had moved with sudden stealth. He held a small vial in front of her. "Drink this," he ordered. She warily took the potion from him and drank. Her head cleared almost immediately, and all traces of intoxication left her system.

"Now Miss Granger, we have had our talk, and you have a decision to make. If you will excuse me, I have papers to grade, good day."

Hermione walked quickly from the Dungeons, her heart pounding and her breath coming in quick, short gasps. Her mind was reeling from the revelations, yet she was not scared. She had a choice to make, and she would think long and hard and make her choice.