Disobey

With gratitude to JK Rowling.

With gratitude to my fabulous betas, Leigh-Anne and GinnyW.

And a special nod of thanks to JunoMagic, who provided the extra expertise I needed on this chapter!

And finally, thank you, Whitehorse, for catching some of my American blunders and kindly correcting them with the correct British usage!

40. DISOBEY

They lay facing one another, his face cradled against her bare breasts as she tenderly stroked his hair in wonder. He'd brought her to wild, uninhibited completion, and when she could breathe again, she'd once again explored the mysteries of fellatio with, it seemed, more than adequate success. She felt a very Snape-like smirk curling her lips as she bent her head to press the softest of kisses in his hair.

Completion.

Yes, it was a quite precise expression.

Completion.

Feeling complete.

Being completed.

Complete.

Almost.

Even with a body that was sated and liquid from release, she felt a small ache between her legs, a reminder that she hadn't been filled. But she shoved that thought away and instead reveled in the languor that included having this man, her husband, first ply his tongue upon her flesh until she cried out for mercy, and then be totally at her mercy as she did the same.

The warm wash of his breath flowed over her skin, steady and delicious, and she found herself leaning forward and whispering, "Professor..." just to taste the word on her lips, and just because she wanted to hear his voice.

He grunted in response and question, and she realized she hadn't actually planned ahead to know what she wanted to say, other than the desire to whisper in his ear. Unfortunately the first thing that sprang to mind was inspired by what she'd been sighing over...the fact that her breasts couldn't be all that satisfying a pillow, and surely he must feel at least a bit cheated over that fact... didn't he?

And thus she found words spilling out before she thought, words that sounded stupid and wildly out of place and worse, words that would bring answers she probably didn't want to hear...

"So... are you a breast man or a leg man or an arse man?" At least her voice was teasing, she hoped.

He stiffened in her arms. "I beg your pardon."

"You know," she said, blushing, "they say..."

"Who says?" His voice was chilly.

"Harry and Ron and the twins and..."

At least he hadn't moved his head.... He sighed against her skin. "You have spent too much time with dunderheads."

"Ah," she said with what she hoped sounded like great wisdom. "You don't want to answer." Breast man, then. And now he was stuck with her inadequate breasts. She wondered sadly if it was too late for them to grow.

He shifted his face and his nose nudged sensuously across her nipple...which promptly tightened to a hard bud. She felt herself flush with colour, part embarrassment and part response.

"Hair," he finally said.

She wilted.

This was worse than breasts.

"It was always the hair...long, silky sheets of it, shiny and glossy and..." He broke off, as if he'd suddenly recognized what he was saying.

She bravely nibbled her lower lip and stroked his fine, limp hair and refused to think resentful thoughts about the nerve of some people.

"Well, the colour didn't matter," he finished, and she realized that's what had stopped him. He'd been about to say what colour hair he was partial to. Her mind filled in the blank with "black" and she was grateful he'd stopped when he did.

Although he'd also confessed a one-time weakness for Narcissa.

And there might have been another girl, one she had no knowledge of, with long sheets of silky, shiny hair.

"But lately, it seems my concept of beauty is being redefined," he continued in his deep, satiny voice as his fingers lifted a strand of her hair.

She needed to stop him. This wasn't necessary. She didn't need pretty lies to make her feel better.

"I've grown a new appreciation for horrid hair that doesn't know its place," he said, coiling the strand around one calloused finger.

So much for pretty lies.

"Horrid hair that is unruly and invades my life and refuses to stay properly in its place, and constantly reminds me that it's here by turning up in my face and my eyes and even my mouth when I least expect it, and keeps reminding me that it has a will of its own, if not its own life force, and... "

She stared at his hand as it continued to toy its way into her tangled locks, and when he stopped speaking she lifted her eyes to his to see him watching her.

"It seems that such tenacious, insufferable, horrid hair is proving itself far more worthy of my admiration."

"It can be sleek," she said earnestly. "For the Yule Ball the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, it was sleek." She glanced up at the photo on the mantle and reached out with her fingers to beckon it. When it landed in her grasp she raised it to her eyes and gave a wry smile. "I spent five hours getting ready for that night, but I've never felt as pretty in my entire life."

He snatched it from her fingers and studied it. Then he tossed it over his shoulder and she watched it sail to the floor. "How absurd. Your hair was tortured into an unnatural state. I'm surprised you didn't have a headache. You look prettier on any given day of the week than you do in that picture."

She was stunned, almost stunned beyond words, and felt her throat tighten and close, but forced her next words out, anyway. "Even with my horrid hair?"

"Especially with your horrid hair." He scowled up at her. "How many times do I have to tell you, Miss Granger? Are you simply fishing for compliments? I find your horrid hair appealing."

Her heart pounded in her chest and her eyes stung with the ache of odd tears. How silly, to feel so emotional over such a thing. But he...he thought she was pretty? Even her hair? Appealing?

He eased himself higher until their faces were even and he teased her lower lip with a strand of her own horrid hair.

She released it from her teeth, and he leaned closer. "And I've also told you, don't nibble. That's my job."

She melted into her pillow with a gasp followed by a sigh as he dipped his face closer and drew her swollen lip into his hot, wet mouth and replaced her teeth with his own gentle suckling.

The kiss deepened although she couldn't know whether it was his movements or hers that brought them together in a surge of needy abandon...and where did such need come from? They'd been together all night and all morning and quite deliciously so, and here they were kissing as if this need was something bottomless that could never be sated.

Not that she was complaining.

And then they were torn apart by the heavy arrival of twenty-two pounds of orange fur and a squashed-flat face with a sooty envelope gripped in its mouth.

"Crooks," she moaned, "whatever are you doing?"

Professor Snape muttered something distinctly threatening regarding emasculation that would have sent a wiser tomcat flying from the bed, but Crookshanks simply settled his large arse between them and glared.

She reached up and took the envelope and, after reading the name on it, handed it to Professor Snape. "This must have come through the Floo when... when we weren't paying attention."

"Clearly," he responded, ripping it open. "Fuck. What time is it?"

Hermione clamped a hand over her rumbling stomach and blushed. "I'm not sure, but I know we've missed breakfast." She checked the clock and gasped. "And lunch."

"Albus has called an emergency meeting of the Order at two."

She scrambled up from the bed and reached for a pair of jeans on the floor.

He grabbed her by the wrist. "Miss Granger," he announced, brooking no argument. "You have three minutes to bathe. Please do so."

She frowned at him. "We're already late."

"And we shall be later. Bathe thoroughly."

She frowned in confusion and perhaps a bit of resentment if not downright insult, but headed for the loo.

XX

He buried his face in the pillow and counted the minutes. He'd given her three; she'd taken five and was still...

The door swung open, and fragrant steam escaped with her as she emerged. He brushed by her on his way in and inhaled deeply and was relieved to see that all scents of sex were gone.

Lupin would be at the meeting, and the last thing he wanted was a fucking werewolf noticing their scent.

Just before he closed the door, he saw her pull a jumper over her head. He knew that jumper intimately, especially the way it didn't quite meet the low slung waist of her black denim jeans and revealed tantalizing glimpses of her navel as she moved about.

Being married to a teenaged witch was going to be the death of him.

With a wave of his hand he opened his wardrobe and Summoned one of his own black shirts, then tossed it at her. "Wear that," he ordered as he shut the door to the bathroom and began his own quick but thorough ablutions.

As he buttoned the last high button on his collar, he noticed the love bite.

He felt a surge of heat as the mere sight of it brought back the memory of her lips, her teeth, on that very spot.

He'd never had one before. Had never felt the urgent suction on his flesh and had never seen the resulting red-purple evidence on his pallid skin. He raised his wand to heal it and watched it fade away.

He heard her sigh in disappointment and met her eyes in the mirror.

"You'd prefer I left it?" he asked in disbelief. "Why, in Merlin's name, did you want me to enter a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix looking like a lust-driven teenaged boy?"

She avoided his eyes, but held out his mother's comb. That witch could blush for England.

He turned her until she faced away from him and began twisting her hair into submission.

"Because," she said, "it would show them that...that I chose you. That I still choose you."

His hands froze.

"This is the first time we've seen any of them since...well, since we got married."

He secured her hair with the comb and resisted the urge to toy with the tendrils that refused to be subdued. "I'm not a lamp-post and you are not a male dog, and I don't intend to walk around with a love bite so that you can mark your territory," he announced and added, "It's unseemly and unnecessary. As if I give a flying fuck what any of them think about our marriage."

But the thought that she wanted to do such a thing left him feeling oddly moved.

"Wand," he reminded her, and she slipped it from her sleeve and stuck it into her hair at an angle, where it promptly disappeared. "Hidden in plain sight is the best place for it these days."

She nodded and preceded him to the door and suddenly...

Stopped.

Turned.

And faced him.

Her face was drained of colour, and he reached out to catch her, so certain was he that she was about to collapse. But she didn't. She simply stared at him with those huge eyes and finally asked, her voice choked, "What happens when he tells you to kill me and you don't do it?"

All of his years of spying hadn't prepared him for this, for this brutal question that he wasn't prepared to answer.

But that didn't stop him. He stared at her with a veneer of calm that masked what he was feeling and said simply, "It's not a problem you need to worry about."

"Don't patronize me."

"Miss Granger, I am not patronizing you. I am being honest. I will not harm you, and, thus, you don't need to worry about it."

"What happens to you?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Nothing I can't handle." He stared into her eyes, willing her to trust him.

Finally, it seemed she did. Her tense shoulders relaxed, and her eyes dropped from his. She rubbed her cheek and nodded jerkily.

He touched her chin and tilted it up until she met his eyes again. "Now. We must go."

This time her nod was firmer, more determined. Again, she preceded him to the door, this time her spine stiff with resolution.

XX

He anticipated a grim meeting at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and arriving a half hour late didn't help.

Molly opened the door and stepped aside. He was rather astounded to see that she aimed none of her glares at him since she apparently felt that Miss Granger deserved them all. He'd expected her to be the first to accuse him of impropriety but evidently feeling slighted on behalf of her sons was still her top priority on this day.

How refreshing. It wasn't often that he escaped Molly Weasley's (often-justified) disdain.

He allowed Miss Granger to enter the Library before he did, but didn't expect her to stop cold in her tracks and block the doorway. He almost collided with her.

The view over her shoulder revealed the source of her surprise.

Never had the Library been so full of people, and it was evident at a glance that almost every Weasley male was present. They'd even called the dragon herder in from Romania or Bosnia or wherever it was that he herded the beasts. It was obvious from first glance that this was a serious and important meeting, which of course he realized, being the source of the information that spawned it.

The only missing redheads were Percy, of course, and the youngest two. Ronald Weasley was noticeably absent, as were his sister and...Potter.

He scowled at that. Surely of all people, Potter needed to understand what was ahead of them.

A slight nudge got Miss Granger moving again, but he felt her energy bristling.

Clearly, they were interrupting a heated discussion.

Which was clearly halted in order for everyone in the room to peruse them, top to bottom, looking for heaven knew what. He was very glad the love bite was gone and that hers were hidden. Although Moody's magical eye seemed to be doing a thorough examination of her body. He drew her closer to him, in direct opposition to his original intention to maintain a dignified distance from her to avoid knowing smirks.

"'Mione," one of the twins called out from a back corner. "Come on, we saved you a seat!"

"She will do no such thing," Molly snapped. "Harry and Ron and Ginny are in the kitchen, Hermione. You can..."

"In the kitchen? We are not children! And if anybody deserves to know about this, it's Harry!"

"Severus?" Albus spoke, clearly annoyed. "Surely you didn't tell her what is going on."

She whirled to face him, then, her eyes beseeching. And he saw it in her eyes, in the tremble of her lips, in the way she splayed her fingers--she radiated magical energy. She clenched her hands, then unclenched, staring at them, and he was tempted to let her go, to let her erupt and let Albus pay the consequence.

But, instead, he touched the back of her neck and drew her closer and whispered the softest "Shhhh" in her ear, more air than sound. She tensed at his touch and then relaxed as she sank against him; her eyes closed.

He felt as much as saw the ripple of reaction to what he was certain would be interpreted as an extreme if not unnatural bit of control on his part and submission on hers. Lupin stared at them through narrowed eyes, looking particularly suspicious. He longed to pull her even closer, to stroke her skin... just to watch the fire flare in the werewolf's eyes.

It was only catching sight of Charlie Weasley that gave him pause. Charlie's gaze seemed more surprised and even curious than concerned as he studied the two them.

Snape decided to put an end to everyone's sport. He glanced up at Albus and sneered silkily, "I haven't survived in the Dark Lord's service for over twenty years by misjudging whom I can trust. In the future I expect you to refrain from questioning my judgment when it concerns my wife."

The mood in the room was electric but now he fixed his stare on Albus.

"Well said..." one of the twins called.

"Professor!" the other one finished.

He sniffed his disdain. As if he needed their support.

"George! Fred!" Molly Weasley's voice was filled with frustration.

Finally, Albus inclined his head in recognition and looked away in withdrawal.

"Miss Granger," Snape said with a firm grasp of her shoulder pulling her away. "Perhaps you should go find the others. I'm sure you realize that any privileged information to which you are privy due to our marriage is not open for discussion if the Headmaster...who is the head of the Order, I remind you...deems it inappropriate."

Her sense of betrayal was as clear on her features as if she'd spoken it, but she simply averted her gaze, her expression mutinous. "If..." He stressed the word and paused until she raised her eyes to his. "If the dunderheads can't put two and two together and come up with four on their own, they don't deserve to know, anyway."

She watched him carefully, and he saw a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. "I'll go," she said crisply. "I don't like it..." This, accompanied with a glare at Albus. "...but I'll go."

Good girl, he wanted to say, but didn't.

The door closed behind her, and a Silencing Charm rippled across it.

"What is being said here tonight cannot be discussed outside of this house," Albus announced. "From this point forward there will be much planning and preparation to be done, but it all must happen on these premises with the proper warding and precautions. And before we go any farther, each person present will have to renew his or her blood oath to the Order. If anyone has any doubts or concerns, this is the time to withdraw. The only penalty you will pay will be selective Obliviation before you leave."

He smiled genially.

"What? No takers? Then, we shall begin with our newest members and work our way through. Mr. George Weasley, I believe that would be you?"

Snape settled in for a long, tedious process but was relieved at the precaution.

It was his neck on the line if word got out, after all.

XX

Hermione burst into the kitchen, her magic prickling over the surface of her skin like goose bumps. Frantic, she looked for something...anything...to break and finally aimed a vicious bolt of magic at a soup tureen on a high shelf.

It exploded but the shards of pottery fell to the floor without harming anyone, as she'd chosen a target on the far side of the room.

Gasping, she finally allowed herself to look at her friends, who all gaped back at her in astonishment.

"And you let them do this to you?" she demanded. "You let them send you to the kitchen like children?"

Only after the words left her lips did she see the impotent rage in their stances, their expressions. Of course they were just as angry as she was. She fought for control and gave her head a hard shake. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm just...How could they do this to you?"

"To us?" Harry suddenly looked at her, alert. "And what about you? Does this mean you know what's going on in there?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. They had to know. Harry had to know. But Professor Snape had made it clear: she wasn't allowed to tell.

He'd also made something else clear, as well.

She sought and found Ron's eyes and begged, silently begged, him to come through for her, for all of them.

"Don't ask any stupid questions because I can't answer them. Just use your heads. Listen to me and think, for Merlin's sake, and see if you can add two and two and come up with bloody fucking four," she ended on a snarl.

"Merlin, you're not only starting to dress like him, you're starting to talk like him, too," Ginny breathed.

Hermione ignored her and drew in a deep breath. Starting at the top, she said in a tone that would have been conversational had she not been glaring daggers at the wall, "How delightful to see Charlie. Gee, it's been, how long?"

"Charlie wouldn't be here all the way from Romania if something big weren't happening," Harry said. "Nor would at least a third of the other people in that room. Why do you think we're so upset?"

"Good for you," Hermione said, her heart pounding. She closed her eyes, straining for something, anything that would lead them where they needed to go....

"Thursday is my birthday," she said suddenly. "I had to tell him, of course, because he wouldn't know, would he?"

They all stared at her as if she'd lost her senses, and perhaps she had, but it was the only thing that came to mind. "I'm sure I'll always have to remind him of our anniversary, too," she said and fought back an unexpected gasp, because she was now so afraid that they would never have one....

No, no, no, she thought fiercely. I can't go there.

She heaved in another deep breath. "I doubt if he even knows when our anniversary is. It was hardly a memorable date. You can't choose birthdays, but you can choose anniversaries and important days, and it seems to me that it makes a lot of sense to choose a day that's easy to remember."

Oh, this was stupid, stupid. They were staring at her now like they pitied her, and she knew she wasn't making sense.

"When is your anniversary?" Ginny asked briskly. "We'll make sure he remembers."

She stifled the urge to scream. That wasn't the point; they were missing her point!

She raised her face to Ginny's and glared. "My anniversary is a very unimportant date to anyone but me. It's August 28." She looked at Ron then, pleading with him to follow her. "It's not a memorable date. It's not an important date. Nothing else important ever happened on that day, which is what makes it so hard to remember...."

Ron looked at the calendar hanging on the wall, frowning.

He looked back at her.

Then she looked at Harry and reached her hand to his forehead and swept the ever-present shock of hair away from his scar.

"Halloween," Ron breathed.

And Hermione was so relieved and so proud of him, she could have kissed him.

"Of course." Harry paled. "Of course it would be. Where?" he demanded of her. "Hogwarts or Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione shook her head mutely.

"Well, then," Ginny said, her eyebrows lowered in a fierce scowl. "I think it's time we joined them in the Library."

Hermione watched the three of them head through the kitchen door, prepared to storm their way into the meeting if necessary.

She followed slowly.

Professor Snape might not survive.

If he refused the Dark Lord's orders to kill her, he might not even survive to provide information to prepare Harry for the final battle.

She pressed her hand to the spot near her heart where it felt as if there was a gaping wound.

She hardly heard the noise as they bombarded the door. She watched as Ginny...oh, of course it would be Ginny...hurled a handful of Weasley Whizzes Exploding Dungbombs at the door, and odiferous sparks went in all directions, accompanied by an almost-sonic boom.

But when the door finally opened, and the scolding from the inside of the room met the angry accusations from the hallway, she only had eyes for the lean figure in black, kneeling at Albus Dumbledore's feet.

"So, everybody wouldn't be here if something big weren't about to happen," Harry interrupted Mad-Eye Moody quite calmly, "and it seems to me that if Voldemort's going to do something big, it'll be on a big day, like the anniversary of my parents' death, the anniversary of my foiling his plans, the anniversary of my scar..."

"Halloween," Ron said.

"And don't look at Hermione. She didn't tell us a thing. We figured it out by ourselves." Ginny cast a smug look at her mother, who seemed on the verge of apoplexy.

Hermione rubbed her eyes dry and entered the room last, an ache deep within her as she stared at the rigid black-clad shoulders and the bowed head before the Headmaster. Their interruption was causing him to maintain this subservient posture until the uproar quieted, and she saw his loathing for the situation in the tension radiating from him.

When she realized that the Headmaster was studying her with thinly veiled disapproval, she raised her chin a notch.

"Do you, Severus Snape, solemnly vow to meet the needs and requirements of the Order of the Phoenix and to fight the powers of the Dark?"

"I do."

"Do you willingly offer your blood oath to prove your loyalty?"

"I do."

"Who stands bond for this man?"

Mr. Weasley stepped forward and placed a hand on Professor Snape's shoulder. "On behalf of the Order of the Phoenix, I accept his bond."

Headmaster Dumbledore lifted a silver knife and efficiently sliced open each man's palm and then pressed them together. A shimmer of light surrounded their hands and just as quickly, dissipated.

Professor Snape rose, and Hermione felt a surge of emotion as he stepped away from the front of the room and melted back into the shadows, too far away from her for her comfort.

She watched silently as the remaining Order members each took their place before Dumbledore and made their vows, completed with a blood-binding to another Order member.

When Mad-Eye Moody rose creakily from his knees, the Headmaster turned his narrowed eyes on the back of the room where Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione stood.

"This is not what I had planned but I feel there is nothing to be done except to bring in four new members tonight."

"Four?" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "Not Ginny...she's not even an adult!"

Ginny stiffened and would have spoken if Harry and Ron hadn't each grabbed an arm in warning. All attention was drawn to Professor Dumbledore as he patted Mrs. Weasley on the shoulder. "We must, Molly. She must be bound by the same oaths and vows."

Mr. Weasley took his wife by the arm and drew her aside where he offered her comfort, as best he could.

Ron was the first to go, and as he took his place on his knees, he found himself surrounded by four brothers, each looking startled by the presence of the others.

Dumbledore looked at the group. "Who will it be, Ron?"

Ron flushed red and looked from face to face. Before he could answer, Bill and Charlie each patted him on the shoulder and stepped away, leaving the twins. "Oh, that's dead helpful," Ron said. "Like I trust any blood either of these prats has to offer. Dad?"

A quick burst of laughter...a little too eager, a little too desperate, but laughter all the same...spread through the room as Arthur stepped forward, and each twin gave Ron's head a gentle slap before going to join their mother.

Hermione watched him take his vow and noticed Mr. Weasley's wince as his palm was bloodied once again, but the pride on his face was genuine.

Ginny went next, and her mother joined her quickly with only a surreptitious sniff to indicate that she'd had misgivings. Again, the vows were quick and moving as mother and daughter joined hands and their blood was sealed by magical oath.

Harry gave Hermione a nod, and she walked to the front of the room, meeting the Headmaster's eyes with steady calm. She had done nothing wrong, and she would be damned before she let him intimidate her.

She dropped to her knees and then looked up, startled, as Tonks stood beside her.

"Wotcher, Hermione," Tonks said softly with a grin.

Hermione looked quickly around until she found Professor Snape, still standing in the shadows.

She jerked her gaze back to Dumbledore, and before she could speak, he shook his head gently. "No, Hermione, it's not appropriate," he said gently.

"Why not?" she demanded.

She heard as well as felt the uncomfortable rustling behind her as various members shifted their weight or cleared their throats.

"Because he's my husband?" she asked.

"No, love," Tonks said sympathetically.

"Perhaps now is not the time to discuss it," the Headmaster said.

"I think it is." Hermione rose to her feet. "Why isn't it appropriate?"

Again, she looked over her shoulder for Professor Snape. Still, he remained in the shadows where she couldn't see his face.

She turned sharply back to the Headmaster. Something white-hot surged within her. "His bond isn't good enough for you?" she asked.

"That's not exactly the issue," the Headmaster finally answered.

"Then exactly what is it?"

When the Headmaster didn't respond, Professor Lupin spoke softly. "Hermione, it's simply that you need to be bonded to someone whose allegiance is... without blemish."

The truth was reflected in almost every set of eyes she met. Her determination to remain calm resulted in a cold voice she hardly recognized as her own. "He can risk his life for you, but you don't trust him."

"He might find himself in circumstances where..." the Headmaster began.

But Hermione didn't allow him to finish. "Where he might betray you? Is that what you're saying?" She met the blue eyes and dared them to twinkle. "How dare you?"

"Miss Granger." The velvet words were spoken gently but cut through all other sounds in the room. "Take the vow."

She didn't look back at him, didn't seek his reassurance or approval or comfort this time. He accepted this travesty.

But she didn't.

"I apologize, but I'm going to have to turn down the honour that you have so graciously offered me," she said calmly to the elderly wizard standing before her. "You can Obliviate me at your earliest convenience, and I'll totally understand."

She pushed her way through the startled Order members, shook off Harry's arm as he tried to grab her and slipped from the Library out into the cold hall. She froze, not sure which direction to turn, and finally took the stairs two at a time, looking for the empty room that had been her refuge that summer that seemed an eon ago.

She slipped into the darkness and pushed the door almost closed and wrapped her arms around herself.

Professor Hooch thought he didn't need her strength.

But he did.

Professor Hooch didn't think Hermione should let people see how much she cared about him.

Why not?

He deserved so much more than this. Somebody had to care, and what's more, somebody had to stand up for him, to consider him worthy.

If not her, then who?

Rage and despair warred within her: rage that he would be the one who saved them all and yet they continued to insult him, and despair that she had just cut herself off from help and information she desperately needed if she was going to help him survive.

And Harry. What about Harry? The six weeks between now and Halloween were short enough, but once she was no longer privy to the Order's secrets...

What had she done?

She heard footsteps on the stairs, a stumble, a quick but vigorous curse, and continued footsteps. She stepped aside just as the door swung open with a loud bang.

Tonks stood framed in the dim light.

At the sight of the clumsy witch Hermione felt a surge of panic that she didn't even pretend to hide. "They sent you to Obliviate me?"

"No, don't be a cow. Hurry, you've got to take your vow," Tonks said with a grin. "Don't worry, you didn't hurt my feelings, and besides, Harry let me be his bond," she continued as she grabbed Hermione's arm and jerked her down the hall to the stairs.

"Then who will be mine?" Hermione demanded, bracing herself to pull free.

"Your bloody git of a husband, that's who." Tonks yanked her forward and down the stairs, and only a quick grab of the railing stopped Hermione from tumbling.

The door to the Library was open and light spilled out. Hermione hesitated for only a moment...long enough to see him...standing at the front of the room with his arms folded and his pallid face a rigidly blank mask, and she raised her chin and walked through the room until she took her place beside him and dropped to her knees, her eyes lowered demurely to hide her triumph.

XX

Where was she?

When he found her, he'd strangle her.

She'd put it all at risk...everything that would keep her safe when he wasn't with her, her ability to help Potter, even her ability to share his life...by her stupid refusal to take the vow unless he performed the role of being her bond.

Later, perhaps he'd allow himself to feel some modicum of warmth toward her misguided sense of justice, but now...with the meeting over and Order members dispersed throughout number twelve, Grimmauld Place...he still felt almost breathless at the thought of what might have been had Albus not suddenly relented.

Bloody stubborn Gryffindor.

A proper Slytherin would have never allowed herself to get in such a position, and once there would have found a graceful exit, not pushed it to a potentially catastrophic conclusion.

He hadn't found her in the kitchen where most of the members had adjourned to grab something to eat before returning to their lives. He hadn't found her in the dining room where Harry, Ginny and Ronald Weasley were quietly discussing something with the twins. He was approaching the study when he heard his own name in the werewolf's voice and, from force of habit, froze outside the door and listened.

"Severus Snape? You've been dodging dragon fire too long, Charlie, if you think that cold bastard is providing the girl any comfort other than a potion or two to keep her warm at night. And it's a potion or spell that has her suddenly defending his honour like he was a bloody virgin and she's a knight of the Round Table."

He scowled, a low-burning anger igniting in his belly.

The second eldest Weasley son just laughed. "And you're seeing them as they were. I'm telling you, after being away for two years and coming back? My first thought was, 'When did my brother's swotty little friend grow up, and why didn't somebody warn me?' I mean, sure, I volunteered to marry her and take her back to Romania with me, and I'm not saying I'm sorry she turned me down, but let's just say if she'd said yes I wouldn't be crying in my beer."

The anger was no longer low burning.

"But that's you. You're a normal, red-blooded wizard."

He heard Weasley snort. "And if you think Severus Snape isn't, you haven't looked at him lately, either. You haven't looked at the two of them together...not really looked."

This is how they responded to the news that they were facing the Final Battle in six weeks? By speculating on his sex life? He'd heard enough. He had one hand on the door, ready to thrust it open when...

His Dark Mark seared into his skin.

With a soft hiss, he grabbed his forearm and backed away.

He had to find her, and now.

He took the stairs and retraced his steps to the Library. Maybe she'd circled back there once it had cleared out. It would be bloody like her to. He winced at the pain in his forearm, but upon opening the door he felt a trickle of relief. She stood, her slender body in black that, and per usual, was half from his own wardrobe, studying a section of books on the back wall. Her back to him, she was alone in the room.

"You, Miss Granger, are an idiot," he announced hoarsely.

She whirled to face him, a book in her hand, her face flushed with guilt.

"If he had called your bluff, do you have any idea what the cost would have been?"

She took a deep breath. "It was not a bluff! But you're right, I was an idiot, and it would have been a disaster...I know that, I knew it as soon as I'd done it, but please, let's not argue about it now, not now that it's over and..."

"I came in here to strangle you."

She crossed the room to him and raised her face, exposing her beautiful throat, its hollows and its tender skin and the pulse beating at its base. "If it would make you feel better," she offered helpfully, "here it is...."

His arm was fucking killing him, he should be gone already, and all he wanted to do was kiss her. Take her in his arms and bury his face in her hair and...

Suddenly, that's exactly what he was doing. He felt something sharp in his rib...the book in her hand...but her other hand was in his hair, pulling him closer as he captured her lips with his and pulled her to him...

And the scent of werewolf and something else even wilder hit him...

He whipped out his wand and spun, aiming over her shoulder at the door...

Seeing that she'd done the same and the angle of her wand mirrored his...

Both were aimed at the stunned group in the doorway: The Weasley twins, with Remus Lupin and Charlie Weasley...dragons, the wild smell was dragons...behind them.

The tableaux the four men made, all startled with mouths agape, would have amused him.

If his arm weren't throbbing.

If he hadn't just been caught in the midst of a heated kiss.

And if he and his warrior of a wife hadn't just narrowly avoided eliminating four of the most magically strong wizards in the Order.

Her wand arm rigid with strength and control, her aggressive stance, and the speed with which she'd responded to his reaction all sent a surge of fierce pride through him.

And clearly had quite the impact on the Weasley twins, who in unison, dropped to their knees.

"'Mione," George began.

"Will you marry us?" Fred finished.

Charlie grabbed his brothers by the shirts and yanked them backward, and Remus thrust himself protectively in front of them.

"Merlin," Charlie muttered, "do both of you have a death wish?"

Fred yanked himself free, laughing. "Snape knows we're simply showing respect."

"If he didn't," George added, dusting himself off, "we'd both be wisps of smoke." He shook his head in amazement, his eyes never leaving Miss Granger. "That was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life, Hermione. You do have a way with a wand."

Fred moved across the room to a bookcase, slid a handful of books out and emerged with an unopened bottle of Ogden's. "I told you we had some here. Oh, 'Mione, don't be hard on Mum. If she didn't get herself all worked up about you insulting the fruit of her loins, she'd have to think about the fact that in six weeks' time, we might not all be here for her to fret over." With a wry smile, he held up the bottle. "Care for a drink? Seems as good a thing as any to do on this night."

Severus's arm was in flames. "If you can spare time away from your celebration," he sneered, "I need someone to make sure she gets back to Hogwarts safely," he ground out. "I'm being summoned."

She turned then and stared up at him, distressed. He gave her a warning look. She closed her eyes and nodded and slipped her wand back into her hair where once again it disappeared into the magic of his mother's comb.

Then an all too familiar voice said, "I'd be honored to escort Madam Snape back to the school, if she will allow it." Albus entered the room. "I'll be returning now, as a matter of fact."

"Thank you," Severus said, sensing more relief than he would have thought possible. She'd be safe with Albus.

He gave her hand a chaste squeeze...there would be no more entertainment for the unwashed masses this night...and slipped down the hallway and down the stairs.

Only when he was outside and in the park across the street did he allow himself one last thought of her lips on his before touching his wand to the skull on his arm.

XX

When they arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione assumed she'd be allowed to return to the dungeons alone, but Professor Dumbledore insisted on walking with her.

Worse, he waited genially for her to invite him inside.

She wondered if this counted as "alone with another male" in terms of the Slytherin code of honour.

When the wall shut behind them, the Headmaster finally spoke.

"Do you understand what would have happened if I hadn't succumbed to your insubordination?"

"I'm not certain, sir," she said primly, "but I don't think it could be properly called insubordination since I hadn't yet joined the Order and hadn't taken the vow."

"Miss Granger!"

"Madam Snape," she corrected him, but then continued before he could burst a vein. "Sir, what I did was foolish and wrong, and I'm very grateful that you didn't make an example of me. I was just...just so angry that you were treating Professor Snape that way! He deserves your respect, not your scorn!"

"Ah, child," Professor Dumbledore said on a tired sigh. "Do you really think I don't respect him?"

It didn't seem prudent to answer that question.

"If I didn't know he deserved so much more than any of us are able to give him, I wouldn't have tolerated your actions tonight." He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, and she knew a hesitant feeling of warmth for the old wizard. "I'm glad you have the... respect for your husband that he deserves. I find I'm happy knowing that he has this...." He gestured at their surroundings, at books scattered and a rumpled bed with red sheets and a tea set waiting for the tea she would be brewing. "Even if it scares me."

"Why would it scare you, sir?" she asked, genuinely perplexed.

"I know what a force he is when he has nothing to live for. I don't know what it will mean, now that he has every reason to live."

She felt her blood freeze in her veins. "Is that all he means to you? A weapon?"

"No, dear. He means more than you can know. I just fear for him, that's all." His expression was weary, and his eyes, usually so bright with energy, seemed washed out with exhaustion as he shook his head. "My intention wasn't to worry you unduly, but was to let you know that I do understand how you feel, and I'm proud of you for caring so much for a man who has had no one to care for him, perhaps ever. He deserves more than his life has given him, and the fault for that life hasn't always been his own.

"He understands the reasons why he has not been used as a bond in the past and he understands the risk you took in your dismay at his treatment. Whether he admits it to you or not, he also understands that his wife forced everyone to acknowledge his worth tonight, and again, whether he admits it to you or not, he can only feel humbled and loved by that action."

To her astonishment, he pressed dry lips against her forehead.

"And that is the reason why I allowed your insubordination." There was no missing the stress on the word. "Because I was honouring your defense of your husband, Madam Snape."

She was too stunned to speak as he made his way back to the magical door in the wall. "However," he said, and this time there was a twinkle, "I wouldn't recommend doing it again."

"No, sir," she responded automatically.

"Although seeing you are able to disobey your husband does relieve my misgivings about your Muggle vows, and seeing him be disobeyed so charmingly was not only good for him, it was indeed a welcome distraction on an otherwise difficult night."

He left her with much to think about as she retrieved her warmest cloak and headed to the window on the fourth floor to begin her vigil.