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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
A/N: Fox – ‘You would never let him die when there's fucking to be done’ – LOL. Such a classic line. ‘This Snape is a very complicated man’ – Yes, there are so many competing pressures on him, combined with a depth of emotion and complex history, he appears to be struggling with how to feel in this current situation. ‘He clings to her, because she showed him, that she cares enough to give more’ – he is certainly expressing gratitude for her sacrifices, which is at least a start. ‘But knowing you, it's a long way’ – I do think this one needs a bit of time :) ‘The Quickening, great I'm on chapter 26 -I see wat you mean about bumpy, but I do trust you’ – I’m glad, it is particularly bumpy at the end. Hold on!
Ali – ‘Yes I know...he could read Top Gear magazine and still want to shag like a rabbit” – LOL!! ‘"That's right Sir...just insert penis right there.....no not there...there!......Have I earned my badge yet?"’ – more LOL. She certainly has taken on the role of ‘helpful Hermione’ at the moment, hasn't she? ‘The "Fucking the Potions Master until he is deliriously happy Badge"....sigh!’ – I wonder how difficult it would be to earn that one - it may require several attempts ;) ‘Definitely as silky as Sev's and "equally" as dry’ – Delicious. You’re a lucky woman! xx
Kvarta – 'future generations of potterheads are always appreciated and respected’ – hahah, I did give her that kiss. I haven’t seen her in five days and I missed her. ‘the way I see it they are like fine japanese tea bowl that was broken and repaired with gold - beautiful, strong and they have essence, a certain depth that others lack. But what really keep catching our eye is that streak of gold’ – wow, stunning description. I can envisage it exactly. ‘If she returns I'm dead - even this review took me several hours to write’ – I need to return her to you soon. I’ve been on semi-holidays which has been fine but I’m back to work and I need to get things done! Wow, I love your reviews but I don’t want them to take up so much of your time. ‘if he admits to her, she becomes another person with power over him’ – and that power dynamic is really in a delicate balance at the moment so it would be difficult. ‘You and a water - what's with that?’ – LOL. Are you referring to my other fics? Water means emotion. I guess that’s probably where it comes from. And sex in water is a totally different sensory experience. ‘It is painful to see how much insecurity lies beneath that sharp mind and cold exterior.’ – that’s exactly it. He’s damaged goods, no matter what front he adopts, it’s always there. ‘self protection and self destruct button are one and the same in his case.’ – wow, I so love that!
Anon – Thank you! A little more Drake in this one.
OO – ‘They're both so trapped in their heads, ruminating on how fucked up their lives are, but they have these brief moments of escape with one another.’ – you know how much I love your glorious insights. ‘It's still halting and awkward, but they seem to be on the same page at least’ – yes, things still aren’t particularly smooth but they’re getting there . . . slowly. ‘That sounds like fertile ground for some kind of deeper connection’ – Hmm . . . I hope so . . .:)
SadieH – Thank you. So pleased that you are enjoying it. Next chapter has arrived :)

Chapter 12 – Pecking Order

“No . . . They made me . . . They made me do it . . .”
“Hermione!” Lavender Brown’s face loomed close as Hermione felt herself being shaken roughly by the shoulder.
“What?” she gasped as she rose abruptly, only just managing to avoid colliding with Lavender’s nose.
“You were calling out . . . again.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again.” Lavender stomped back to her bed before flinging herself down onto it and burying her face in her pillow.
Through the crack in the dormitory curtains, Hermione saw the silvery grey of dawn. Lavender never appreciated being woken early, no doubt she’d be grumpy for the rest of the day.
Sinking back into her pillow, Hermione closed her eyes, shreds of her dream eddying and swirling before coalescing into an image that suddenly made her stomach clench. It was such a visceral manifestation of disgust that she felt like she might be sick. And as she rolled over to face the floor, tears sprang to her eyes—she remembered what she’d been shouting . . . and why.
She'd dreamed she was in her bedroom at home—where she lived with her parents. And the whole room had been flooding, rapidly filling with water. She was kneeling on the bed and a girl about her age was lying on it, a black blindfold covering her eyes. Hermione was masturbating her with a large, black dildo and the girl was crying, blood trickling out of her onto the bed.
Hermione kept telling her that she was sorry but that she had to do it; that it was the only way to stop the water rising—otherwise they would both drown. The girl was moaning that she didn’t believe her. That it didn’t make sense. Finally, she tore off the blindfold and screamed at her. She accused Hermione of getting off on it, of enjoying what she was doing.
Hermione shook her head but looked down to see that she was rubbing her own clitoris; she could feel that she wanted to come. She was trying to explain to the girl that, despite how it looked, it wasn’t her idea, that she didn’t want to do it, that they had made her . . . they had made her do it.
***
He wouldn’t look at her.
Hermione kept throwing furtive glances at the High Table but Snape was intently, and quite deliberately it seemed, focusing on his plate. He spoke to no one.
She’d sent him two owls asking that he meet with her but received no response.
She needed to talk to him urgently. The gut-wrenching images from her dream had continued to haunt her throughout the day, their meaning abundantly clear. She blamed herself. She felt responsible for driving the wickedness of the Muggle decree.
She had attempted to orchestrate Snape’s liaison with some other unknowing young woman, she'd practically had to force him to have sex with her the previous evening—while on her period, for Merlin’s sake. And . . . she’d enjoyed it. She’d not held back whatsoever, the mental images of her desperately grinding herself into his stomach generating another wave of nausea.
She should not be the one forcing this fucking thing to happen. It wasn’t hers to own. And yet when bloody bossy, know-it-all Hermione sees a problem, she has to fucking fix it. She couldn’t any more. And she wouldn’t. It was not . . . fucking . . . hers!
Snape pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and strode from the hall, robes billowing in his wake.
***
Clutching his arm to his chest, Snape approached the Apparition point. His Dark Mark throbbed and burned with such intensity, he suspected that the Dark Lord was planning another execution. Those who failed to fulfil the enchantment were being murdered in the manner of traitors—the worst possible death of all. And as he recalled the fate of the last one, the father of a young child, his stomach clenched in revulsion, forcing him to stop. Drawing in deep breaths, he blinked up at the heavy sky, steeling himself before stepping through.
***
Professor Snape,
If you do not respond to my request to meet this evening, I am afraid that I am going to have to withdraw from my role in service of the Order.
Regards,
Hermione Granger

She needed to know that she’d done the right thing. She had no one else to talk to. Deep down she felt he’d lost respect for her—that he saw her in the same way that the girl in her dream did, that she was getting off on the whole thing, enjoying the sordidity of it all. She just had to fucking know.
As the owl exited her window clutching the parchment, she sat on her bed hugging her knees to her chest.
And waited.
***
A hunched, black figure materialised out of the mist. As Dumbledore approached, he could see that the damage was severe.
One of his eyes was already closing over; his shirt was soaked with blood.
The figure tried to move forward another step but stumbled. Dumbledore appeared at his side, grabbing him before he fell.
“What have they done to you, Severus?” he murmured, his voice strained, heavy with emotion.
The dark wizard tried to focus on him.
“Albus?” It was a mere whisper, a pitiable shadow of his normally indomitable baritone.
“You’re safe now,” Dumbledore reassured him, tightening his grip around his shoulders. “Was it more answers they were after?”
Snape’s nod was almost imperceptible.
“I told them . . . nothing.”
Dumbledore smiled sadly at the younger man’s broken face. “Well done, Severus,” he rasped, before brushing his fingertips over Snape’s eyelids, rendering him unconscious. With a flick of his hand, he lifted the pale, limp body to his chest and carried him into the castle.
***
“Where’s Snape?” Harry whispered before running into the back of Hermione.
She had stopped dead. An elderly man was standing in Snape’s place, writing on the blackboard.
“Horace Slughorn is my name.” The man spoke over his shoulder to the class. “I’ll be filling in for Professor Snape today. I’m a former Hogwarts Potions Master as many of you will know. And Professor Dumbledore assures me that there is plenty of talent in this class so I will be expecting great things from you.”
Feeling Harry’s sharp elbow in her back, Hermione continued walking. But as she approached her desk, her heart sank. Snape had relocated Draco to a desk on the opposite side of the room from her the previous week under the guise of ‘restructuring’ the classroom.
But now that Snape was away, he’d clearly decided that the change could no longer be enforced.
“Granger.” He smirked as she dropped her bag beside her chair.
Without responding, she turned and sat.
Slughorn began delivering instructions but she barely heard him. Snape hadn’t responded. She’d had another similar dream but this time the person on her bed was younger—a child. She’d woken feeling so ill that she’d had to run to the bathroom.
Afraid of sleeping, she’d spent most evenings trying to come up with alternatives, but there seemed to be nothing—apart from what they’d already discussed about moving beyond the Order.
The lack of sleep was also taking its toll. She’d been agitated and grumpy with everyone—including her good friends. Actually, especially at her good friends. Hearing Ron whisper to Harry about ‘the time of the month’, she’d proceeded to verbally castrate him. Not to mention the permanent malaise of rotting guilt roiling about in her stomach.
“Miss . . . er . . . Granger, is it?”
Slughorn stopped in front of her desk.
“Oh . . . um . . . Yes, Professor.”
“You’re looking a little peaky, are you feeling alright?”
“Well . . . actually . . . no.” Hermione felt her voice tighten. Embarrassingly enough, his gentle tone made her feel like crying. “I have a . . . a headache.”
“Oh, I see. I’ll get you a glass of water. I find that always helps.”
With a quick flourish of his wand, a full glass suddenly materialised on her desk.
“Hopefully that will do the trick. If not, let me know and we’ll see what else can be done.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Hermione nodded gratefully before picking up the glass for a sip.
“Granger,” Draco hissed as Slughorn moved away. “I know a good headache remedy—just for dirty Mudbloods. A proper pure-blood cock. Or two if the pain is really bad.”
With a growl, Hermione turned and threw the water in his face.
“Bitch!” Draco spluttered, drawing his wand.
Hermione’s was already drawn—levelled at his throat.
“What is this?!” Slughorn returned, pushing himself between them. “I’ll have none of this in my classroom! Your houses will both receive fifty point deductions. Now put those wands away!”
Breathing heavily, Hermione dropped her arm.
“Clearly you are not well enough to be attending class today.” Slughorn frowned at her. “I suggest that you inform your other Professors and attend the hospital wing if required.”
“Yes, Professor,” Hermione mumbled, grabbing her bag and running from the room.
***
“Spin the bottle?”
Hermione lifted her head. “What?”
“Ta da!” Lavender waggled a full bottle of Firewhisky in her face.
“Where did you get that?”
“Where there’s a will there’s a way.” Lavender smirked. “Now come and join us. We’re playing downstairs. It’ll be fun.”
Hermione looked at her watch. 10.00 p.m.
She’d not heard from him all week. But she wouldn’t be chasing him. Not this time.
Rolling off the bed, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked terrible, dark circles hollowing out her eyes. Fuck. She desperately needed some sleep. But she also needed a distraction. Spin the bottle seemed as good as any.
The Gryffindor common room was empty except for a small group sitting in a circle on the floor. When Hermione entered, they shuffled around so that she could join in.
“Everyone has to drink a finger before we start,” Lavender instructed.
She wrapped her hand around the bottle as a gauge and drank down to the bottom of her index finger. Then she passed in on to Parvati Patil, who passed to Ron, Harry, Ginny, Seamus Finnigan and, finally, Hermione.
The fiery burn of the liquor, combined with the laughter and good-natured banter that followed as people choked and spluttered trying to drink as quickly as possible, instantly lifted her spirits.
“Okay, I’ll go first since it’s my bottle,” Lavender announced.
She scanned the group with a sly grin but Hermione noticed that her gaze lingered on Ron as she grasped the bottle and gave it a quick flick. It spun vigorously before slowing to point at . . . Ron. Cheers went up as Lavender feigned surprise, despite Hermione noticing the wand hidden under her cardigan. A spell had clearly been involved but she didn’t bother to point it out. Ron looked like all of his Christmasses had come at once anyway, and whilst she’d had feelings for him in the past, these past couple of months they had diminished entirely to the point that she couldn’t even remember why she’d liked him in that way.
Lavender shuffled forward on her knees until she was kneeling before him. The silly grin on Ron’s face didn’t change from the moment she clamped her hands around it and pressed her lips to his, until she finally released him with what sounded like a disappointed sigh.
Hermione decided that she was glad she’d gotten over him. He really didn’t have a clue.
“Okay, my turn.” Ron pushed Lavender out of the way.
Giving the bottle an unnecessarily forceful spin, they waited impatiently for it to stop. Its final resting place drew whoops of laughter.
“I’m not kissing my bloody sister,” he grumbled.
Everyone eventually agreed that it was fair enough, especially Ginny.
On the second spin, it landed on Parvati. She gave a small genial smile. It was clear to Hermione that she wasn’t the slightest bit interested but the silly grin had returned to Ron’s face. He crawled over to her, wrapping one arm around the back of her head before delivering what looked like a saliva transfusion. There were snorts from the others as Parvati pulled away before surreptitiously wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
Ron seemed pretty pleased with himself as he took a swig from the bottle on the way back to his place in the circle.
“Your turn, Parvati,” Lavender ordered tersely, her irritation more than evident.
Parvati leaned forward and her spin landed on Hermione. There was a burst of exuberant approval, especially from the boys.
“Hmm, my . . . lucky . . . day,” Parvati murmured with a mischievous smirk, making everyone clap even more.
Hermione grinned. This was going to be interesting.
Parvati adopted a feline crawl as she approached, playing up to the onlookers.
When she was before Hermione, she reached out and placed a hand lightly under the curve of her jaw before leaning forward and pressing her lips to Hermione’s. They were far softer than anyone Hermione had ever kissed before. It was really quite lovely. And just when she thought she was about to pull away, she felt Parvati’s mouth open more, her tongue flicking out to briefly slip between Hermione’s lips.
Hermione felt a flush roll over her as Parvati withdrew, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
“Hermione?” Seamus nodded enthusiastically at the bottle.
The warm buzz of the whisky and the amusing sexiness of Parvati’s kiss was making her feel so much better.
Leaning forward, she delivered a firm spin. The bottle rotated . . . slower and slower until . . . Harry. More claps and laughter. Hermione immediately looked to Ginny who didn’t seem put-out at all. In fact, she was clapping enthusiastically, seemingly eager for it to happen. Ginny knew that Hermione and Harry were practically sister and brother. It would be wrong, but funny.
Hermione raised a knowing eyebrow to Harry, who delivered one of his trademark sheepish grins before adjusting his glasses.
“Let’s get this over with,” she sighed.
Crawling over to him, she rose up on her knees; he raised himself up to meet her. Grinning, she propped an arm on each of his shoulders while he responded by placing his hands on her hips. A piercing wolf whistle blasted from somewhere behind her.
Leaning in, she parted her lips slightly before meeting his. He opened a little, moving his mouth gently against hers. She felt nothing but it was—
“Miss Granger. I believe we had an . . . appointment?”
Gasping, both jerked towards the door.
There stood Snape. And he was not happy.
- 11
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- 13
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Doing it for the Order *Complete*

Doing it for the Order Complete