Chapter Two

A/N: Of course, everything and everyone you know belong to JKR. Thanks to Shellsnapeluver for being a wonderful beta.

Hermione Granger sat in the Great Hall, between Harry and Ron, enjoying a breakfast of eggs and rashers. It was her 17th birthday. Harry had already presented her with a clumsily wrapped book on Arithmancy, and Ron had blushed and thrust a box of Honeydukes Chocolates at her. She was feeling warm and loved and looking forward to the arrival of the post owls, who would surely be bringing her birthday package from her parents.

"Merlin, Hermione. 17. You're of age. You can learn to Apparate!" Ron said, through his mouthful of food.

She pursed her lips in mock disapproval and replied, "I won't learn any sooner than you will. You'll be 17 by the end of next term, and that's when we'll be trained."

"And I won't learn at all this year," Harry said glumly.

Ron cut off Harry's train of thought by making a more comprehensive list of what Hermione could now enjoy as a fully grown witch. "You can vote. You can buy firewhisky. You can get married. You can go in the Restricted Section without a note--Hey! You can order from the secret part of the catalogue at Flourish and Blotts--Hermione, if we gave you some money..."

Hermione laughed. "No, Ron. I'm not buying dirty books for you two. In fact, save the voting, I'm sure I won't be doing any of that!"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Not visiting the Restricted Section?"

"Well, yes, but not for--"

Just then, the post owls swooped in.

Three owls approached the Gryffindor table, two bearing a package between them, and one clearly the Headmaster's owl. Hermione reached up to disengage her package and feed scraps of bacon to the two owls making the delivery. She assumed that Dumbledore's owl was for Harry. But on second glance, she saw that the Headmaster's owl was pacing before her self-importantly, and when she gave him her full attention, he thrust out his leg for her to remove a rolled bit of parchment.

"What's Dumbledore writing you for?" Ron asked.

"I don't know; I thought it was for Harry," Hermione said, unrolling the parchment, her birthday present momentarily forgotten.

"Maybe it's for her birthday," Harry said.

"Yeah, but I've never gotten anything from him on my--"

"Dear Miss Granger," Hermione read, "I've been given to understand that you come of age today. Please accept my birthday wishes and the hope that you will not spend too many additional hours in the Restricted Section. Madam Pince is already alarmed. If you would stop by my office at seven-thirty, there is a matter that I wish to discuss with you. The password is 'Fizzing Whizbees.' Enjoy your day! Yours, very sincerely, Albus Dumbledore."

"What do you think he wants?" Harry asked.

"I haven't the foggiest. It's probably some coming-of-age thing, or something to do with being a Prefect," Hermione replied. She turned her attention to the package from her parents as Harry picked up the note from Dumbledore and read it again.

"Do you think he's going to induct you into the Order?" he asked, and she thought there was a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

"While I'm still in school? Don't be ridiculous. If it was anything important, I'm sure he'd have asked you instead," she said, lifting some packing material from her box and vanishing it with her wand.

"Ooh! They've credited my account at Flourish and Blotts!" she exclaimed. "And new quills, and--oh!"

Hermione lifted a set of pale green dress robes from the box.

Ron whistled, and she blushed. The robes were silken and unadorned but well-tailored, deeply cut and obviously very expensive.

"They shouldn't have," she murmured and picked up the Muggle card at the bottom of the box.

Dearest Hermione,

Mum

Hermione stroked the fabric of the robes once more before returning them to the box. She cast a Reducing Charm on it and tucked it into her schoolbag.

Harry and Ron were sitting in silence, clearly lost as to what to say about a friend's new dress robes.

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Come on," she said. "We'll be late for Charms."

***

For all she'd been nonchalant with Harry and Ron earlier, Hermione was seized with nerves as she walked down the corridor that led to the Headmaster's office. She'd never been asked to see Dumbledore alone before.

"Fizzing Whizbees," she told the gargoyle, and he leapt aside to admit her. Climbing the twisting staircase, Hermione told herself sharply that there was nothing to worry about. It wasn't as if she'd done anything wrong. But a tiny part of her mind worried at the possibilities like a cat with a ball of yarn. He'd discovered what she'd stolen from Snape's stores that first year. The Ministry had learned what she'd used the Time-Turner to do. She was going to be expelled.

She raised her hand to knock.

"Come in, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore's voice rang out from behind the door.

Hermione pushed open the door and was amazed to see Professor Snape and Mad-Eye Moody already within the study. Oh, bugger, what have I done? Professor Snape was studiously not looking at her.

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape... er, Professor Moody, sirs," she said.

"Never did have the pleasure of being your professor, Miss Granger," Moody growled from his seat in front of the desk.

"Welcome, Hermione. Come, sit," Dumbledore said, motioning her to a seat between the two men.

Hermione sat gingerly, her deportment matching her thoughts, which were completely off-balance. Had Dumbledore just called her Hermione?

"I'm sure you're curious as to why I called you here today," Dumbledore said kindly.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, my dear, it seems I have a favour to ask."

Relief coursed through her. She was not going to be expelled after all.

"Anything, sir," she said, the color returning to her face.

"Perhaps you should reserve your judgment until you've heard what the favour is?" Professor Snape said icily. She thought she heard him mutter, "Gryffindor," under his breath.

"Though I appreciate your willingness to help, Professor Snape is right," Dumbledore said. "Please hear me out before you make a decision."

Hermione noticed that both Snape and Moody were staring angrily into space. She couldn't determine whether their fury was directed at her or at Dumbledore. "Certainly, sir," she replied.

"You and Harry have become very close over the years."

"Yes?" she said, confusion evident in her tone. Was this about Harry? Had he done something? Did they expect her to reveal something, to--

"Are you, that is, is there... anything more between you than friendship?"

A short, huffing sound came from Snape's direction, but Hermione was so gobsmacked by the question that she disregarded him.

"Between me and Harry? No, sir. But... if you don't mind my asking... why?"

Hermione thought for a moment that Dumbledore looked relieved, although she could find no reason for him to ask nor for him to be relieved at her answer, no matter how hard she thought about it.

"Only because I know how much Harry mistrusts Professor Snape."

Ah. So that was it. Hermione nearly tripped over her own tongue as she hastened to reply. "You mustn't think anything of it," she said. "You know how Harry is--all raw emotion and reaction. He trusts you implicitly, Professor Dumbledore, and he would never do anything to betray Professor Snape or--"

Dumbledore nodded, looking thoughtful. "And you, Hermione? Would you betray Professor Snape?"

"No! Sir, I would never--I--is there something that I've done that--?"

"No. No, of course not, my dear."

"I have nothing but respect for--" again, Snape huffed, and Hermione turned to glare at him, "Professor Snape."

"Let me ask you a different sort of question, if I may." Dumbledore waited until she nodded and then continued. "Would you keep a secret from Harry?"

Keep a secret from Harry? Why would he want her to keep a secret from Harry? Dumbledore had already given Harry permission to tell her and Ron everything that they discussed, so why... unless it was about Snape--unless there was something... less than trustworthy?

"Sir, it would depend on the secret," she said slowly. "I would never do anything to cause Harry harm, and I would never keep something from him that might hurt him or weaken his chances against... Voldemort."

For a split second, Dumbledore looked almost triumphant. "But if there was some great need, something that would not harm Harry but would help someone else?"

She wavered for a moment and then replied, "If there were a good reason, and Harry would not be disadvantaged... then yes. If you needed me to, I would."

Suddenly, Dumbledore redirected. "Hermione, as I'm sure you're aware, Professor Snape has spent the last 16 years as a double agent for our cause."

Hermione's head was reeling, but she nodded at the Headmaster and cast what she hoped was a reassuring glance at Snape, who simply averted his eyes and resumed glaring at the wall.

"Of course, the Death Eaters believe he is spying for them."

"Naturally," she replied.

"Yes. Well. The time is nearing when Professor Snape will need to seem to break off his attachment to the Order and return to Voldemort."

Hermione did not gasp, but it was a near thing. Return to Voldemort... Though she had no love for the sneering, cynical man beside her, she felt a deep pang of pity for him at the idea that he would be forced to live among the Death Eaters, taking orders from a homicidal maniac. She looked at him for some sign of how he felt about this announcement, but saw nothing but his usual scowl upon his face.

"I see."

"No one must know that we have planned this. It must seem to everyone that Professor Snape has betrayed us. Otherwise, the risk that Voldemort will uncover his true allegiance would be too great. Any member of the Order who was captured would be risking Severus's life and our only link to the Death Eaters."

Hermione nodded. "But, sir, why tell me? I'm just as likely to be captured and tortured as any--" She sat forward suddenly. "I think you should Obliviate me."

Moody chuckled appreciatively. "Never heard anyone volunteer to be Obliviated," he said. "You were right, Albus, she's a plucky girl."

Hermione paid him no mind. "Really, Professor, you must Obliviate me. I couldn't bear it if I accidentally--and why does Professor Moody know?"

"Are you implying I can't keep my mouth shut?" Moody asked.

"Alastor," Dumbledore said warningly. "Hermione, if you'll recall, you agreed to hear me out before you made any decisions."

Hermione blushed and sat back slightly in her chair. "Yes, sir. I apologize."

"Quite all right. Should you want to be Obliviated at the end of our meeting, that will be your decision. However, I would like to explain a bit more about the favour I'm asking of you."

"Please continue," she said.

"I think it is very unlikely that I will survive the war," Dumbledore said evenly. "Already, I'm aware that Voldemort is forming a plan to have me killed before the year is out."

"But sir, you're quite protected here, and Voldemort has always been afraid--"

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Be that as it may, I feel my time is running short. As I already explained, Severus will need to seem to turn his back on the Order and return to Voldemort's employ."

Comprehension dawned cold through Hermione's body. She felt an icy tickle that began in her cheeks and seemed to run over her chest before engulfing her heart. If Dumbledore died, there would be no one left to know that Snape had not truly betrayed them. He would be an outcast, perhaps killed, or captured as a Death Eater and sent to Azkaban. She could not be Obliviated. She would have to carry Snape's secret and be prepared to launch his defense as soon as the war ended.

"I'll do it," Hermione said.

Snape turned slowly toward her. "Do what, if I may ask?" he hissed.

"I'll keep your secret. I'll start working now on a case for your innocence that can be set into motion as soon--"

"You have the gist of it, my dear," Dumbledore said. "But I'm afraid that what I'm asking is slightly more complicated than that."

Hermione looked at the old wizard questioningly.

"You realize that there will have to be some action on Professor Snape's part, some parting blow that delivers him safely to the other side?"

"Yes...?"

"If you chose to protect Professor Snape and his secret, I would need to believe that your faith in him would not be broken, no matter what he had to do to leave the Order. I would have to be confident that you understand perfectly that all Professor Snape does, he does for the Light. He and I have made this choice together because we believe that he will be able to protect Harry more effectively from the other side."

Hermione sat quietly for a moment. If Snape would be continuing to protect Harry, then whatever he had to do would not involve hurting Harry too badly. "What do I need to do to convince you that I would bear that burden willingly and trust Professor Snape unreservedly?"

"I would ask you to marry him."

Marry him! Marry him? Suddenly, Hermione could see how neatly Dumbledore had boxed her in with her own sentiments. As usual, she had charged ahead as they must have expected her to do... but--marry him? Her professor? The man who had spent the last five years belittling her, reducing her to tears? He hated her. Surely he wouldn't want...

Hermione was too shocked to speak. She did not gasp or protest as Snape clearly expected her to do, given the way he was staring at her, but she said nothing for so long that a strange, vibrating tension began to fill the room. Thoughts twisted and tumbled through her mind. Ron. She'd always thought she'd marry Ron. Wasn't that the way it was supposed to work? She would marry Ron and... Her thoughts strayed inadvertently to that secret, cherished wish of her heart. She in ivory cream, Ron in navy blue, the garden of the Burrow alive with flowers. In her mind she looked up at her beloved wizard's face and saw instead the lined and sneering countenance of Severus Snape. Marry him? Impossible. No one could really mean for her to--but she thought of the first time she had seen him in Grimmauld Place at an Order meeting. The news that he was a spy. She thought of Sirius, the waking dead look of his eyes after Azkaban. She could not consign this man--horrible or not!--to a punishment he did not deserve.

It was Snape who finally broke the silence. Curling his upper lip into a snarl, he said, "Where's all the Gryffindor bluster now, Miss Granger? You were bearing burdens unreservedly a moment ago." He turned and addressed Dumbledore, "I told you she wouldn't agree. They're never as brave as they claim to be."

"Severus!" Dumbledore said sharply.

When Hermione found her voice, she spoke quietly and deliberately. "You will not bully me into this, Professor Snape. If I agree, it will be on my own terms. And you have no reason to doubt my courage. You're asking me to give up the rest of my life. I'm well aware that Wizarding marriages cannot be undone."

"Your terms, Miss Granger? And what might those be?"

Hermione ignored him and turned, instead, to Dumbledore. "I have questions," she said simply.

"Go right ahead, my dear."

"Earlier you asked me if I would keep a secret from Harry. Would this be the secret? Would I be expected to..." Finally, her nerve seemed to break for a moment, but she paused and collected herself. "That is, would anyone know that we were married?"

"No one but Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said, inclining his head toward the scarred and weathered wizard. "He would witness your marriage. He would also have the responsibility of hiding it from the Ministry."

"Hiding it from the Ministry?"

"Surely you realize that all Wizarding marriages are recorded at the Ministry, Miss Granger. Imagine the headlines should someone stumble across our records. Scandal at Hogwarts: Professor Allowed to Wed Sixth Year Prefect." He glowered at her.

She nodded. "I see. So our marriage would be a secret until the war ends."

"Precisely," Dumbledore said.

"And then?"

"Pardon?" Snape said.

"And then what?" Hermione all but snapped. "So the war ends, and I launch your defense. We play the devoted couple for a while... Harry and Ron never speak to me again... my parents probably disown me... and then what? Do I spend the rest of my life living in the castle with you? What?"

"I hardly think that Hogwarts will continue to employ me after I'm branded a Death Eater," Snape drawled.

If she could have stamped her foot, she would have. "You know what I mean! Will we continue the ruse for the rest of our lives or--"

"Miss Granger," Snape said slowly. "Do you actually expect that I would agree to... marry you... if I thought I would live through the war?"

She stared back at him, unwilling to back down. "If you are so convinced that you won't survive, why even put this plan into place?"

"I assure you that this was not my idea."

She closed her eyes briefly. "I see."

"Do you now?"

"Still," she began again at full strength, "in the event that you were to survive... I would want some assurances."

"Ha," Snape spat. "So now you show your true colors. A monetary amount, I assume? How many galleons, Miss Granger, would it take to buy your soul?"

"That's disgusting," Hermione said quietly. "Neither my soul nor my life are for sale. If I chose to marry you, Professor Snape, I would want assurances that both would remain my own."

"As I have no use for either, I don't see where that would be a problem."

"And would you... would you want an heir?"

Snape stared at her, disbelief drawn in broad strokes across his face. "Do you take me for a rapist? I assure you that I have as little use for your body as I do your soul."

"So we would not be required to--"

"Absolutely not."

"Severus," Dumbledore began.

"What?" he snapped.

"You know that to bind this marriage, to prevent annulment in the instance that someone were to discover it--"

"No, Albus. No. I would rather be kissed by Dementors."

Hermione sat quietly, listening. Perhaps she would be saved after all. For there was more than one kind of honor at stake here. As much as her very cells seemed to rebel at the idea, she would not leave Snape without recourse. But if he chose to call it off... then no one could blame her for--

But that wasn't true. Unless they agreed to Obliviate her, she would know. She would blame herself.

"Reconsider, Professor Snape," she said.

He sputtered for a moment. "Really, Miss Granger, I--surely you would want no--" Then he seemed to find himself again. "Is Mr. Weasley insufficient to your needs?"

Hermione blushed a fiery red, and Moody made to rise from his seat. "Snape! There is no need to impugn--"

"It's fine, Professor Moody. I'm used to it," she said. She turned to Snape and said sweetly, "Why, Professor, I don't know why you'd take an interest in my personal life, but your sources are incorrect. I am not now, nor have I ever dated a Weasley. And I assure you that I have no more interest in your body than I have in the giant squid. I simply meant that a single act--however horrible it may be to contemplate--could hardly be a reason to consign yourself to death."

"Death would be preferable," Snape said coldly.

Hermione rose. "In that case," she said, "Professor Dumbledore, if there is nothing else?"

"Hermione, please sit. Severus, some restraint, if you will? I can't imagine that you had not realized this would be a necessity."

"On the contrary, Albus. I simply thought your regard for Miss Granger would prevent you from turning her into a common whore."

"Severus!" Dumbledore thundered. Moody raised his wand threateningly.

"A wife is not a whore," Hermione said evenly.

"A child is not a wife," Snape retorted.

"Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect, if Professor Snape is opposed, I don't see any reason to continue this discussion. Please Obliviate me so that I can return to my dormitory."

Dumbledore held up his hand for a moment to stay her.

"Severus, you agreed to this plan," Dumbledore said fiercely. "It is imperative that you have some means by which to contact Harry Potter. Need I remind you that--"

Snape sat back in his chair and crossed his long legs. His voice was calm and even, but Hermione thought she could hear hatred, pure and cold, in it. "Oh, no, Albus. No. No need to remind me of anything. By all means, marry us now if you wish."

Hermione blanched. Now? Here?

Dumbledore turned heavy, tired eyes to Hermione. "Hermione?"

She looked at Professor Snape. There was something odd in the way that he was sitting, the look in his eyes. She sensed, though she could not explain why, that he had just been very badly hurt.

"Professor?" she said.

"I won't save you now, if that's what you're asking." His eyes were blank.

"No, I--no." She rose. "What do I need to do?"

Snape stood up beside her. "Push your sleeves back," he said, and she began to relax. She knew how to take instruction from him if nothing else. He looked at her condescendingly. "You'll need your wand."

She pulled her wand from her pocket and watched as Snape unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them back. She looked at him questioningly.

"Point your wand at me," he said, and she did, flinching slightly as his wand took aim at her.

"I'm not going to curse you, Miss Granger," he said. "At least not in the traditional sense."

Her lips turned up a bit in a wry smile, and she thought his eyes registered shock and then faint amusement.

"Take my hand," he said, wrapping her left hand in his.

Professor Moody approached them from the left, and Professor Dumbledore from the right.

"Pay attention," he said. "You'll need to repeat the statements." She nodded.

"I, Severus Snape, take you, Hermione Granger, to be my wife. From this day forward my blood will be your blood; my home, your home; my life, your life."

Hermione took a deep breath and repeated, 'I, Hermione Granger, take you, Severus Snape, to be my husband. From this day forward my blood will be your blood; my home, your home; my life, your life."

Professors Dumbledore and Moody touched their joined hands with their wands, and a firm, warm pressure traveled up her arm from the point at which their spells had coalesced. She felt the bond take her head, then move over her left shoulder, down into her heart, and through her right arm into her wand, where it exited and, she presumed, entered Snape. She could feel the spell entering her from his wand, creating a magical circle. He bent and brushed his lips cursorily over hers, and the spell concluded.

"May God have mercy on my soul," he said.