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Doing it for the Order Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 72673 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: So I’m obliged to deliver a warning here but it seems that most of you are ahead of me on this already anyway. Without giving anything away, the warning relates to sex and menstrual blood. I’d like to acknowledge the creative and diverse suggestions that these two have received from you lovely folk regarding ‘shark week’, ‘bloodbaths, ‘riding the crimson tide’, ‘pirates on the Red Sea’ etc. I have greatly enjoyed reading your responses. :) Many thanks as always, DSx
OO – ‘One good orgasm and he's already addicted to her’ – well, you know, his feelings are . . . complicated ;) ‘She should have given him a copy of Debauchery and suggested he take notes’ – Hahaha, yep this Sev could definitely do with a few tips from that one. ‘Fitted shirts--WTF?’ – it’s a Snape wardrobe thing, I understand. Just like all those buttons :)
Anon – I’m afraid it was the whole chapter. But here is another!
Ali – ‘now he can't get it up for anyone other than the KIA’ – now I feel like I should know what KIA means – maybe it’s because my brain is tired. Yeah, I’ll blame that. :) ‘Oh dear what a mess and no paper!’ – your husband certainly has a way with words, again I can hear that accent. ‘It could get doubly messy if he has to "ow's yer father" with a menstrual Hermione’ – fuck that made me laugh. ‘Has to produce a sperm sample and a Miss Whiplash doctor gets paged when all else fails’ – I love the idea of Hermione as Miss Whiplash. Maybe an idea for another story. ‘I will try to keep up’ – yes, don’t fall down on your end of the bargain! xx
Kvarta – ‘but every time I mention S or H word they start running’ – hahah, at least you know how to clear a room if you need to :) ‘you are master of words’ – and I love your words, you have such a gorgeous way of phrasing and explaining your thoughts – beautiful. ‘We are back to our fragile bad boys once again’ – aww, what is it about them? ‘ok I'm sounding like Bellatrix, cackling now’ – hahaha, my 8 year old does a fantastic Bellatrix impersonation by the way. ‘ffs (pardon my french), he is a Death Eater, like little blood could turn him off...on the other hand...now that I'm thinking of it - it just might :S - damn it :/’ – you are absolutely right, it’s hard to know how this Sev is going to respond, he’s a complex soul. :) ‘I'm sending my insane muse to you again’ – I’m blaming your naughty muse for bugging me to get this next one done! Whew! x
Fox – Hey Fox, I need to thank you for all of your lovely reviews on The Quickening. I don’t know how I can respond to each one but I love that you are enjoying it. Although I’m a little bit scared as things get a bit bumpy towards the end :/ Just trust me, that’s all I can say!
Back to this fic. ‘and almost establishing a sort of ownership over him -to some extend’ – yes, bossy Hermione was back for the last chapter. I quite like her in that mode too. ‘I suppose, if I invested and sacrificed so much, I would want him to succeed to not waste it.’ – that’s exactly it. A little bit selfish perhaps but valid. ‘Hahaha I believe some people may like both at the same time -a little unorthodox solution, but who am I to judge?’ – now I like your thoughts on this, I must admit that my mind didn’t go there . . . for a change. ‘one (1) unskilled blow job, one (1) slightly clumsy riding session, one (1) unintended hug and our powerful and mighty Snape is obsessed?’ – bahahaha, I love your checklist of feeble reasons for this to be the case. All I can say is that things are ‘complicated’. Can’t say more! ‘You will not let him die’ – I will, of course, do my best. x
Fncmullin – ‘I kind of love that he's "broken" now’ – I love a broken Severus too. But is Hermione up to healing him? We shall see :)

Chapter 11 – Not What She Ordered

10.45pm.
Hermione rolled over, stuffing her hand under the pillow so she wouldn’t be tempted to look at her watch again.
Had he managed to find someone?
She tried to close her eyes but all she could see, flickering in her mind’s eye, was the awful image of him hunched forward, rocking on the floor in pain. There were so many things that could go wrong with the enchantment. What if it had happened again? He could be lying unconscious somewhere. He might not even be able to get home.
Huffing, she rolled onto her back and stared at the moon shadows smeared across the ceiling. There was only one thing for it—she would have to check. Otherwise she’d ruminate on that image, turning it over and over until her anxiety levels were so high that sleep would be all but impossible.
Sitting abruptly, she pushed back the covers before stretching her feet into the gloom, trying to locate her slippers. Finally managing to pull them on, she struggled into her dressing gown and quietly cast Lumos before letting herself out the door.
Since her unpleasant altercation with Draco in the stairwell, she’d taken to avoiding the most direct route to the Dungeons, and so it took a good deal longer than she would have liked, her bare legs freezing by the time she arrived at his door.
Raising a fist, she knocked.
Nothing. Silence.
Knocking louder, she pressed her ear to the door. Was he in there?
Under normal circumstances, the thought of breaking into a teacher’s room, especially Snape’s, would have mortified her. But she couldn’t leave until she knew—until she’d satisfied herself either way.
“Alohomora,” she whispered. There was a metallic scraping sound and the door popped open, amber light seeping into the classroom. She straightened as a surge of adrenaline hit her. He must be there.
Pressing her fingertips against the icy surface she pushed.
“What do you want?”
Hermione blinked. “What are you doing?”
“I would have thought that was obvious.” He turned his shadowed face back to the fire, a bottle held limply by his side.
“Are you drunk?”
“Always so perceptive,” he muttered, lifting the bottle and taking a large gulp.
Hermione stepped forward and closed the door behind her before shoving both her wand and freezing hands into her dressing gown pockets.
“Has the enchantment been fulfilled?”
He snorted, taking another swig.
“And so you’re just giving up?”
The fire crackled louder against the silence.
“I expected more from you.”
He swayed a little as he lifted his head to regard her. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
His dark, mirthless chuckle made her wince. “Top marks in disappointment.”
She took a step towards him.
“I’d never considered you to be so self-indulgent.”
The shadowed seam creasing his brow deepened as his eyes narrowed.
“I doubt you ever considered me at all.”
The hollow ring of his words jolted her but she suspected that their true meaning was deeper than she could understand.
“And yet I’m here.”
“Which brings me back to my first question.” He slid the bottle onto the mantel before standing to his full height. “What do you want?”
Hermione’s heart and mind were racing, her stomach heavy with an odd sense of guilty obligation—to him, to the Order, to herself, to Harry. But they couldn’t all win. If she sought to fulfil her responsibility to herself, she would leave—return to her bedroom, bury herself in her quilt and, as a seventeen year old girl, let all of this slip back into the domain of the ‘adults’ where it belonged. She should be focusing upon completing her studies to the best of her ability, working out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
And yet she remained—standing in his lounge room. She was involved whether she liked it or not—whether it was a fair expectation of her as a student, or even as a girl being shoved into womanhood. And whilst there was nothing about this that was okay in her mind, it was clear that he felt the same. He would rather die, for Merlin’s sake.
“Where are your sobriety potions?”
It took a few moments for the meaning of her words to filter through.
“It’s enough, don’t you think?” He shook his head. “It’s gone far enough . . . All of it.”
Hermione approached until she was standing only feet from him. “No. It’s enough when there’s nothing and no one left to protect. You made a commitment. And so did I. There are many without a choice. But we have one. So tell me where you keep your potions.”
He stared at her for a long time before closing his eyes with a sigh. “Chest of drawers. Bedroom. Green bottle.”
Flicking her wand, she lit the lamps in both rooms before locating the drawers. A quick search and she returned with a small green bottle. As she handed it to him, he regarded her with a gaze of such intensity that she had to look away.
Focusing upon the leaping flames, she heard him swallow the contents.
Moments later, he cleared his throat and she looked up to see that he was standing erect, black eyes clear, eyelids no longer hovering at half-mast.
“Do you have a shower in your bathroom?”
“Yes.”
Hermione nodded before turning and leading the way. He followed.
The bathroom and shower were surprisingly spacious. She hadn’t ventured in there on any of her previous visits as it had seemed private—a bit ridiculous really considering the circumstances.
“I need to . . . prepare.” She turned to him. “Perhaps you can go in first?”
He still looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Are you sure?”
She held his gaze before suddenly reaching up and pulling the elastic tie from his hair, dropping it to the floor.
“I really thought that would have worked,” she murmured to herself, scanning his black shirt.
His chest tightened as his gaze dropped away from hers.
“Just hurry up, I’m still freezing,” she said, turning away to give him some privacy—equally ridiculous but, then again, what wasn’t with this whole bloody affair?
The sound of spraying water reached her, followed by the thump of the shower door closing. Glancing in the direction of the steaming cubicle, she sat on the toilet and removed her tampon, wrapping it up carefully and placing it in the pocket of her dressing gown before undressing completely.
At the last moment she remembered. Pulling her wand from her pocket, she cast Histomalleus on her ears, giving the tops small points like an elf. It was next on the list of changes that she’d been compiling. After the first time, she realised that she needed to keep track of them since she couldn’t afford to make the same change twice.
Tossing her wand back onto her pile of clothes, she slowly approached the shower. If she’d had longer to think about this, in all likelihood she would have capitulated to her misgivings—after all, it was just making a terribly messy situation even messier. For both of them.
Still, if he was willing to overlook the horrible awkwardness, she should make an attempt to rise above it also.
Drawing a deep breath, she slid back the shower door.
The hot spray pummelled his face and hair, and felt surprisingly soothing after the events of the evening. But when he turned to see her standing naked in the open doorway, the obvious trepidation on her face caused a fresh wave of self-loathing to swamp him. If he’d been able to perform as required, she wouldn’t have to put herself through this. But it hadn’t happened. Not even close. His sober self was even more concerned than his inebriated self by the fact that he couldn’t even get it up to save his own life. It was inexplicable. He wondered then about the alcohol. Perhaps it had impacted him more than he’d originally thought?
But as she stepped into the spray beside him, looking up at him warily with her probing, intelligent eyes before placing her small hand on his chest, he immediately felt himself stir. It was too complex to fathom. The disquieting emotions surrounding this ran far deeper than he could admit. But he was also simultaneously relieved, and grateful—she was clearly trying to make this easier for him, her other hand now sliding down his hip, giving him permission to do the same.
But he found himself reaching, instead, toward her face, his fingers sliding along the elegant line of her jaw before coming to rest with his thumb against the soft pad of her bottom lip. The pressure parted them slightly, water trickling into her mouth. Her lips were naturally pink and sculpted—not gaudy red, rimmed with liner, like the other girl’s had been. And the urge to kiss them was so monumental that he had to close his eyes, admonishing himself for daring to behave as though something else existed between them. She was doing this for Potter. And she’d admitted to doing it for her own protection. She wasn’t doing it for him. And she shouldn’t.
With a quiet sigh, he leaned down and grasped her above the hips before lifting so that her breasts were level with his face. Leaning her back against the glass, he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it the way he knew she liked it.
Her arms immediately wrapped around his head and he caught her rising moan above the sound of the rushing water. Swirling his tongue around her nipple, he tugged with his lips until she moaned again, her legs opening, lifting to encircle his waist. Holding her in place with one arm, he slid the other hand between their wet bodies. Delving downward, he soon found the swollen head of her clitoris. Jostling the firm bud with his thumb he released one nipple in order to service the other. Legs tightening around him, she began to thrust, her pussy kneading into his abdomen more and more vigorously.
He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she had dictated their entire previous encounter but she seemed far less inhibited. The sensation of her firm, young body writhing between his torso and the glass was so arousing that his rock hard cock was now jabbing up into the cleft of her buttocks every time she ground against him. In fact, he needed to get inside her quickly. Otherwise . . . he knew exactly what the consequences would be. And it was something he never wanted to experience again in his lifetime.
Releasing her breasts, he allowed her to slide down the glass a fraction, her legs slipping down to his hips until her pussy was at the perfect height for him to guide his head into her opening. As he easily slipped inside, she jerked her gaze upwards, clearly unwilling to investigate what else was going on down there.
And so he thought it best to provide a suitable distraction. Rocking his hips, he thrust incrementally into her tight opening, somehow hotter even than the shower that continued to pound down upon them. Then his thumb returned to her clitoris, massaging it insistently as he plunged into her in solid strokes against the glass.
Her breathing came in shallow gasps and he could tell she was already close. She’d never allowed him to bring her to orgasm before so he was half expecting her to pull his hand away but she didn’t. Instead her head tipped back against the glass, her mouth falling open as he pumped and rubbed.
And when she began keening, a needy mewling sound signifying her imminent release, he felt his balls contract, gathering for his own ejection. Fingers curling into his wet hair, she began to twitch in his arms, her muscles already losing control. And then he felt her entire body seize, clamping around his waist, clawing at his shoulders, squeezing a shocked cry from her lungs and choking his cock again and again until it finally gave in, exploding with one of the most powerful orgasms he’d had in years. His hips continued to plunge vigorously of their own accord, celebrating both the joyful release of a week of pent up ejaculate and the simultaneously gratifying depolarisation of his shaft.
When he pulled out there was only a smear of blood, washed off in seconds. He wondered then why he’d been willing to risk his life to avoid it. But when he looked into her face, flushed and exhausted, he realised that this whole affair—what it had taken from them to date and the looming threat of further turmoil—was far from simple. The challenge now was to stop it from eroding them completely.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Doing it for the Order *Complete*

Doing it for the Order Complete