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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
- 15
- 16
- 17
A/N: Happy Holidays to you all. Thank you so much for your continued support. Stay safe and I’ll see you again soon. DSx
OO – ‘But I spent the whole chapter convinced it was a dream.’ – That’s a great bit of insight as this was as idealistic as it has pretty well been for them. And each is still unwilling to fully accept what is happening. ‘I liked this because it was hot, but also because it conveys his growing passion/desperation for her’ – yes, he is pretty honest in his thoughts about his physical desires at least. ‘I do wish I could live my life free from such limiting thoughts’ – ditto. <3 <3
Kvarta – ‘but first I have to get me a pair of google glasses’ – maybe you’ll get some from your hun for Christmas? ‘It is refreshing to not know what comes next’ – I’ll do my best to keep you on your toes ;). ‘Passion is great thing, but in their case - it is predicament, if they keep up like that...it will become a burden’ – absolutely – more insight into that in this chapter. ‘the fact that all around him treat him like an object, as if he has no human feelings or needs.’ – yesss, there are great expectations on him from all sides. ‘He is not dominant at all - if nothing he is extremely accommodating’ – exactly – another great piece of insight. ‘And, yup, as expected his insecurities are surfacing again.’ – they are, of course, pretty deepset. And lots of fluffiness – glad you enjoyed!! ‘At least have mercy on us - your readers – I would like to but . . . ;) xx
Roro – Yes, this story is definitely being continued. I’m glad you are enjoying this plotline and the different spin on their relationship.
Ali – ‘If my grandchildren don't get their gifts wrapped properly it will be your fault you know.’ – I take full responsibility. And I also accept responsibility for my own kids’ presents as I haven’t wrapped them yet either – eek! ‘I mean how couldn't she fall for him?’ – Indeed – sheer impossibility ;) Happy Christmas x
JadedFate – Thank you for your kind words. So pleased that you took a chance on this pairing. More chapters on the way :)

Chapter 16 – Law and Order

Hair. In her face. Lifting her head, Hermione blinked into the murky light. Shit! She was still there—lying on top of him. And he was obviously still there—lying beneath her. And the grey dawn filtering through his high windows told her they’d been like that all night.
He appeared to be sleeping, face turned to the side, a swathe of dark hair cutting across one pale cheek, and since his arms had slipped down in the night, she found that it wasn’t hugely difficult to disentangle herself. Carefully, she pushed herself off him and crawled backwards, gently replacing the covers as she retreated.
Her joints, particularly her knees, felt stiff and creaky after the strain of holding herself braced against the door the previous evening. But that recollection also brought with it a host of other feelings that were far from uncomfortable.
Creeping into the lounge room, she located her underwear in the corner where it had been cast aside within moments of her arrival, before proceeding to wrap herself in her robes. A fire would have been more than welcome but it felt a bit presumptuous to take such liberties in his chambers, and so she settled for casting a warming incantation.
Two large tomes were still stuck to the door. In the light of day they appeared odd, but gave away nothing of their lascivious intent. She thought about her position on them, clinging onto the spines, fully open to him. It was pretty bloody creative really—not the sort of thing she would expect of a Potions Professor. But did someone suddenly become asexual just because they had attained a certain level of professional responsibility? The answer was, of course, 'No.' And although the level and scope of his obligation was higher and broader than most, he clearly hadn’t become sexually stunted because of it—at least not that she could tell.
Her own prior experience might have been nil but she was quite confident that he would be considered more than adept in that department. It wasn’t something she wished to dwell upon but the spark that flared inside when she reflected upon how aroused he seemed to effortlessly make her, was enough for her to realise that she was actually grateful that it was he whom she’d been asked to service. It could have been worse. She shuddered. So much worse.
Casting a second warming incantation to counter her thoughts, Hermione scanned the room. The shelf from which he’d removed the two books now looked untidy compared to the neat rows marching around the remaining walls. Kneeling down to straighten them, a book called ‘Potions Uncorked’ caught her eye. Sliding it out, she flipped the pages open and was immediately struck by what was inside—handwritten notes—everywhere. Fine black script filled the margins, the header, the footer. Some of the original text had been crossed out and others passages were underlined. There were circles, arrows, question marks, and what appeared to be corrections—statements like ‘Not the case!’ and ‘Temperature dependent’ or ‘Only if picked in moonlight.’
As she flipped through the pages, she discovered that annotations were crammed throughout the entire book—his thoughts, ideas, inspirations, even people’s names. It was fascinating. Glancing up, she scanned the books before her and pulled out another two. They were the same—completely filled with his commanding, black strokes.
She thought back to her own books, stacked wherever she could find a space in her room, and a perpetual source of annoyance for her room mates. And whilst she would never dream of writing in them, her own study notes were just like this—copious inspirations, thoughts and ideas, questions, corrections, names, dates. It was as though they had been living this life in parallel, pouring themselves out onto pages, working through their complex inner lives. And when she scanned the multitude of books present, she had a sense of a distributed existence detailed throughout. She suddenly wanted to read them—all of them. But only his words—tiny clues to the essence of—
“I would prefer it if you didn’t read those.”
Hermione gasped. He was standing in the doorway, dressed in a black dressing gown, hands thrust firmly into his pockets.
“Oh, I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” Leaning forward, she quickly slid each book back into the case.
“I have clean copies of most. For loan,” he stated.
She stood with difficulty, realising that she’d been sitting awkwardly for too long.
“I was actually . . . more interested in the notes—the ones you’d written,” she admitted.
A fleeting expression crossed his face but it was too rapid for her to discern its exact nature—Anger? Fear? Sadness?
“Let me know if there is a specific text that I can provide you with.”
It was so formal. The distance was back. Perhaps he considered it too personal—for her to have read his inner thoughts. Still, it wasn’t as though she’d perused his private diary or anything.
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
He sighed before sliding his gaze around the shelves. “Some were lost . . . stolen . . . Many years ago, a handful of my books were taken . . . and they are . . . essentially irreplaceable.”
She understood.
“If my study notes were stolen, I’d be devastated.”
That same expression returned, a brief flicker rippling across his features—pain?
Stepping forward quickly, she tapped the spine of ‘Potions Uncorked.' “Perhaps if you have a copy of this one, we can discuss it in our next tuition session?”
He crossed his arms before subtly inclining his head. “I’ll owl it to you.”
She stared at him. She’d fallen asleep in his embrace, smelling his skin, feeling him breathing against her. And yet here they were. Strangers again. She found herself pulling her robes tighter around herself as he stood stock-still—a closed wall of black. It was confounding. He was seemingly so private about some things but surprisingly open about others—even if it was mainly communicated in actions, rather than words.
And where had Severus gone?—the man who had laughed despite himself; whom she had witnessed intensely raw and passionate, but also caught in moments of exquisite tenderness. Despite his stern countenance and defensive stance, she remained hopeful that he was still in there somewhere, behind the mask, peeking through.
“Monday, then? In the Library?” she asked, taking a hesitant step toward the door.
How should she leave? After spending an evening having deeply erotic sex against his door, sleeping on his chest? Was it enough to simply stroll back to her room like nothing had happened? As though it meant nothing? Should she even say goodbye?
“Not the library.”
She stopped. “Where, then?”
“Here—in my chambers.”
“I thought the whole point was for us to be seen together.” She frowned.
“Not anymore.”
“Why? Has something happened?”
Yes. Lucius Malfoy had happened. Severus thought back to the moment he’d removed her knickers from his pocket and thrust them into Lucius’ stomach. ‘Take her,’ he’d said. ‘I no longer need her.’ The older wizard had clenched his jaw in anger but appeared far less sure of himself. With a sneer, he’d scrunched the pink fabric in his fist before leaving in a flourish of blond hair and expensive robes.
“Don’t travel anywhere alone unless absolutely necessary,” Severus told her. “Are you still taking the long way to the dungeons?”
She nodded, feeling increasingly concerned. “Is there something I should know?”
“Where did you buy your underwear?”
“Sorry?”
“The underwear . . . that you were wearing last night. Did you leave Hogwarts to buy it?”
“No . . . I already had them,” she said. “I didn’t buy them especially for . . .” She tailed off as she felt the flush rolling up her cheeks.
“I didn’t necessarily expect . . .” He seemed just as uncomfortable. “It’s just that you mustn’t leave the castle without an escort.”
“Perhaps you could explain why?”
“A precaution,” he stated simply. “The Order has prioritised your protection at this time.”
Something had happened. Clearly. But she had a sense that she wouldn’t be getting a lot more from him.
“So am I safe to return to my room now?” she asked.
“Yes.”
He’d follow. He always did.
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, before turning back to the door.
“What about Friday?”
“What about it?” she huffed.
“You mentioned plans.”
Had she? She couldn’t remember making any plans to—Oh . . . shit.
She’d made it up. She’d pretended she had another appointment—just to see him sooner.
He was frowning expectantly at her, black eyes searching hers.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and regarded him with as much dignity as she could muster. “I happened to want to want to see you. I apologise for doing so under false pretences.”
His mouth twitched as he ran his index finger across his bottom lip.
“Next time,” he rumbled darkly. “Just . . . ask.”
And he was there. A swift ripple of robes and his arms were around her, his hungry lips capturing hers. And as she melted, mind turning to mush, she clung to one single thought—he was in there. Severus was still in there.
***
“I expected you to come earlier, Miss Granger.” Professor McGonagall poured tea into Hermione’s cup. “The owls I sent weren’t rhetorical—although your failure to respond suggests that you interpreted them as such. I hope you understand that I didn’t wish to pry . . . or interfere in such a delicate process. And the headmaster has kept me abreast of his conversations with Professor Snape. But I’ve been extremely worried about you. Please tell me—how you are coping?”
Hermione tried to look burdened under the old woman’s clear, green gaze. Admittedly, she would have done a far better job had she been summoned to a meeting with her a week or two previous.
“I’m . . . I’m managing,” she murmured as she stirred milk into her tea.
Professor McGonagall nodded, taking a small bird-like sip of her own. “I feared we may have asked too much of you. It really is an unimaginable circumstance. I wonder if it will forever tarnish your perception of the Order—your trust in its intentions?”
“I do have reservations,” Hermione answered truthfully.
“Of course.” Professor McGonagall blinked rapidly, appearing quite distressed before asking what was obviously a difficult question.
“Is he . . . Is the Professor . . . gentle with you?”
Well, actually no. Hermione thought back to him banging her head against the desk and thumping her into the door. She knew she was flushing—both upstairs and down.
“He’s been . . . adequately . . . considerate.”
It was hardly an answer. But what could she say? That she’d thought about little else since leaving his rooms two days earlier. That she actually looked forward to having sex with him? That she wanted to do it more . . . more than required to satisfy the enchantment?
Professor McGonagall was looking at her hard, her lips puckered with displeasure. Clearly she thought Hermione was implying that he’d hurt her.
“Do I need to have a word with the Professor?” she asked, placing her cup back in its saucer.
“No,” Hermione answered too quickly. “It’s . . . it’s fine. Really. I’ve accepted that this is a necessity. And I believe that Professor Snape is appreciative of what I am doing . . . for the Order.”
Minerva continued her shrewd appraisal before softening a little. “He is a good man. Under all of that . . . strictness and severity. It might be difficult to believe but he really was a very sensitive boy when he arrived at Hogwarts all those years ago. I truly wondered how he would cope. And sometimes . . . he didn’t.” She looked down into her cup. “It was Albus who insisted that he should stay. Severus had wanted to leave—on more than one occasion. He’d sobbed in the Headmaster’s office . . . I remember standing outside, unsure of whether to intervene. I couldn’t help but feel protective over him—he really felt that he didn’t belong. But Albus took him under his tutelage. He challenged him—developed his mind. And, of course, discovered that he was truly brilliant.” Her expression turned distant. “Brilliant but deeply troubled.” Then she straightened, seeming to remember herself. “Of course, this is not to go any further. I . . . I really shouldn’t have shared such details. I just don’t want you to resent him.”
Resent him? Resentment was no longer something that Hermione felt. Attraction would be closer to the mark. An increasing level of attraction that made her wonder why she’d never seen it before. Perhaps it had been his perpetual grumpiness. And the fact that he seemed to hate her. But now that she’d had a glimpse beyond his austere demeanour, she found him rather striking and . . . surprisingly sexy. In fact, she couldn’t look at any part of him without remembering where it had been. His hands inside her, his hair clutched in her fingers, his lips . . . everywhere.
She shifted in her seat.
“I don’t resent Professor Snape,” she informed the older woman. “He’s doing what’s required—to survive.”
Professor McGonagall nodded slowly. “And by all accounts he was lucky to make it through last week. Madam Pomfrey says that his injuries this time were extremely severe.”
“Injuries?”
“Yes, Dear. He spent almost the entire week in the infirmary after returning from the Dark Lord. Were you not aware?”
Hermione thought back to her meltdown the previous week—how angry she’d been with him for ignoring her owls—for not being available when she’d needed him. And he’d merely informed her that he had been ‘busy’—not that he’d almost died.
Her eyes stung. She felt like a selfish bitch. She was a selfish bitch. And now all she wanted was to see him again. To tell him she was sorry. To kiss him. To show him with her body that she cared what happened to him. To continue to save him.
But she didn’t want it to stop there. She wanted more. And what if he did too? Would that just put him at greater risk? If the Order found out that they were having sex beyond the need to satisfy the enchantment, would they stop them from seeing each other altogether? They were still student and teacher after all. And then where would that leave him? At the whim of the Dark Lord’s despicable decree once again?
She raised herself on shaky legs. “I need to go.”
Professor McGonagall stood but Hermione ducked her head and rushed for the door before she could say another word.
It was unfair. She hurried down the corridor, blinking back tears. It was so bloody unfair.
- 15
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- 17
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Doing it for the Order *Complete*

Doing it for the Order Complete