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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
- 25
- 26
- 27
A/N: OO – ‘I didn't want you to be on the naughty list.’ – I think I’m still on the naughty list! ‘I know means a fish slap approach-ith’ – Can you smell the fishiness from over there? Thanks for the fixes – I get confused over whether positions and titles need capitals, I might need to do some research. ‘And I'm holding my breath for the next salmon smack. (En garde!)’ – Touche! x
Kvarta – ‘I think I'll finish the smut first, it is only few more chapters anyway, and then return to ss/oc one’ – I love how you refer to your story as ‘the smut’ ;). ‘I just can't find enough in my heart to glorify them’ – I like and accept that mindset. ‘NOTHING is harsh enough for them in my book’ – ooh wow, remind me not to get on the wrong side of you! ‘ROFLIN in most literal way’ – careful you don’t break your chair again! ‘What happened with a thin stream down the spine?’ – wicked girl . . . still, not a bad idea ;) ‘You really know how to stick a knife in a guts and give it a good twist’ – I’m afraid there may be more twists to come. ‘I love Hermione's reaction (or lack of it) to her flirting even more :)’ – yes, she’s pretending to be a bit oblivious at the moment I think. ‘I'd like her type of "virus", exactly the same brand if possible :D’ – Hahah, Sevirus :) ‘see how you gonna mash up our brains next’ – get ready . . .
SL – Glad you are enjoying the character development :). Regarding your question, in my mind Voldemort really saw this as more of a personal disagreement between Malfoy and Snape – he probably also accepted Snape’s accusation that Lucius was also undermining the decree. Snape had already passed Malfoy’s test and he had also made it clear that Voldemort’s information source would be jeopardised if Hermione was injured in any way under his care. Since Hermione had been injured by the enchantment, I considered that Voldemort would just want her out of the way to minimise further fallout. I hope that makes some sort of sense ;)
LittleSparke – Lovely to hear from you. So glad that you are enjoying it. Next chapter delivered! ;)
Ali – So I need to amend my previous statement to you to say that, in fact, this latest review is the funniest. One line had me laughing for literally minutes. ‘I like big butts and I cannot lie! Well I should get on with Sev exceptionally well.’ – that is so bloody funny, it’s still making me laugh. ‘him giving me a massage....utterly delightful’ – I hope you still enjoyed the spa even without your Severus massage. ‘Kudos to you my little Manchester Tart.’ – Now they look good – I actually really want one now, or as close as we can get in Australia – maybe a vanilla slice? A custard tart – okay, I need to stop thinking about them, my stomach is rumbling. ‘I suspect more from a fancying point of view rather than supporting a fellow Gryff’ – or maybe a bit of both ;)

Chapter 26 – Call to Order
Hermione took a long, hot shower, rubbing her hands all over herself and imagining it was him. It didn’t feel nearly as good as the delectable caresses of his beautiful hands, but she had only a few hours to wait until she’d be able to indulge in the real thing.
The happiest he’d ever been. She still couldn’t quite believe he’d said it. What a disclosure for a man as painfully private as he. It had nearly made her cry. But she’d decided to engage in a little frottage with him instead. She wished she’d handled it better—choking into her napkin probably hadn’t adequately conveyed the true depth of her feeling. Still, hopefully he realised how much she appreciated his words, and how happy she was with him. He even had her ‘glowing.’
“I thought a basilisk must have dragged you down the plug hole,” Parvati commented as Hermione returned to the bedroom.
“No, I was just . . .”
“Masturbating?”
Pretty close to it. “No. Not this time.”
Parvati snorted as she continued to write.
Hermione changed into clean clothing and then proceeded to pack a bag with spare clothes, toiletries, books and a quill.
“It’s really none of my business.” Parvati looked up from her parchment. “But would you happen to be heading off for a bit more ‘virus’ action?”
Hermione’s face instantly betrayed her. “Vati, you can’t tell anyone.” She gazed at the dark haired girl pleadingly. “I know I’ve asked this of you before, but no one can know. Please, can you keep it to yourself?”
“So he’s here, then? At Hogwarts?”
Hermione stared at her, desperately needing to finally share with someone. It had been so hard having to keep it to herself this whole time.
She nodded.
“Student?”
Hermione grimaced, her body was desperately trying to stop her from responding, but she managed a tiny shake of her head.
“Well that narrows it down just a tad.” Parvati leaned back in her seat. “I have a suspicion it’s not Hooch, more’s the pity.”
Hermione rubbed a hand across her face. She shouldn’t be entertaining this at all.
“You know who I think it is?” Parvati stretched, folding her hands behind her head. “I think it’s that surly but quite deliciously sarcastic beast haunting the dungeons.”
Hermione suddenly coughed into her palm.
“Ha!” Parvati rose from her seat. “Have you really been getting a bit of Snape’s grumpy old Slytherin sausage?”
Hermione snorted. She should have been mortified at having disclosed something so serious but the look of delight on Parvati’s face was priceless.
“I’d do him . . . if I was that way inclined.” She smirked, sauntering closer. “Actually . . . how big’s his bed? Perhaps I could come down and visit you both sometime?”
“I’m not sure he’s that way inclined either,” Hermione grinned.
“He doesn’t have to be. It’s you I’m more interested in.” Her dark eyes flashed.
“Vati . . . I don’t know how to break this to you,” Hermione shook her head ruefully, watching a smile of resignation curl Pavarti’s lips. “But you’re one seriously good kisser.”
Parvati blew out a long sigh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t destroy a fantasy that’s been three years in the making.”
“Three years?” Hermione looked at her incredulously. “It sounds like you need a new fantasy.”
Parvati caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she appraised Hermione. “No . . . I think I’ll stick with this one a bit longer. The whole point of a fantasy is that it feels just a little bit . . . unattainable.”
“A little bit?”
Parvati nodded with a grin. “I’m a seriously good kisser, remember?”
***
Hermione’s heart leapt when she heard the door to his chambers open. She’d finished reading her book and couldn’t be bothered starting another; made two pots of tea and was sick of drinking it; and had only just managed to hold off looking through his enticing shelves, not wanting to risk dampening his mood.
As it turned out, however, she needn’t have been concerned about his mood as he was already undressing as he strode through the bedroom door. Tearing off layer after layer, he descended upon her, trapping her under the covers before lunging at her throat. She tried unsuccessfully to wriggle free and so was at his mercy as he began his systematic deconstruction of her.
He laved and sucked at her pulse, damp breaths scudding across her skin as the fine rasp of his chin grazed deliciously into the hollow of her collar bone.
“Severus,” she moaned, her head rolling with each fresh surge of his hungry mouth, escalating like a gathering tempest. Delving the ridge of his nose into the cleft beneath her jaw, he forced it upward so that he could seize upon the flesh between her earlobe and the nape of her neck—the graze of his teeth there making her entire complement of hair follicles leap to attention. She only just held back a squeal, a high breathy grunt escaping her lips instead.
He clamped onto her earlobe, tugging and sucking at it before his tongue flickered out to worm its way into the intimate tunnel of her ear, the slick, thrusting assault prickling her flesh and sending another delicious shudder down her spine.
“Uhhhh,” she groaned, making further useless attempts to break free, desperately wanting to touch him.
But it seemed he had other plans.
Finally sitting back from her, breathing heavily, he yanked the covers off her naked body, catching her wrists as she tried to touch him. Wandlessly he bound them together before leaning forward to bind them to the bedhead.
“Oh Gods.”
It was a realisation—a whimpered surrender. She could feel it. He was taking her somewhere she’d never been before. And whilst she was committed—she was on for the ride. She really didn’t know what she was in—
“Ohhhh!” The rising moan erupted from her as he grasped both nipples and twisted them until she arched off the bed. The burn quickly sizzled right through her core until she was throbbing like a nuclear reactor.
How did he know? Had he read the Hermione Granger user’s manual? Or was he simply in the process of writing it . . . right . . . now.
Grasping both breasts in his hands, he forced them together, engulfing one in a ravenous mouthful before extruding the nipple like pulled toffee, plying it with long, firm strokes of his tongue. Releasing one throbbing point, he started on the other, moving between the two in quick succession until her nerve endings were singing, shooting signals to distant parts of her body, and recruiting them into a maelstrom of firing that had every millimetre of her body sensitised to him.
Only then did he fully unleash himself on her.
She was clay. And he was an artist—creating in violent bursts. Hollowing and smearing, plunging and dredging, pulling responses from her body that were raw and carnal and had her trembling on the precipice of release over and over. When her voice was hoarse and she was sobbing with need, he stopped, his body slick with perspiration.
“Don’t . . . hold . . . back,” he whispered against her lips, the closest he’d come to kissing her the entire time.
Then he flipped her over onto her stomach, spread her legs, and released one of her hands only, pulling it behind her. Carefully, he folded her fingers so that only her index and middle fingers remained extended and then proceeded to draw them slowly up and down the cleft between her buttocks, before settling both fingertips at her puckered entrance.
Holding her hand there, he leaned over and murmured in her ear. “Histomalleus.”
Her forehead dropped to the mattress. What was he going to do?
She didn’t know why she even bothered posing the question. She would do whatever he wanted. Because it was what she wanted.
Wandlessly, she cast the spell and felt her entrance change—enlarge and relax. He reattached her hand to the bed head before running both palms down her back in what she sensed was only a brief interlude—the eye of the storm.
Drawing a shuddering breath, she tried to relax but was so aroused that she was finding it difficult.
Then she felt it. The velveteen touch of his cock against her buttocks. His warm, silken head trailed across both mounds, back and forth before slipping down to rest at her entrance. She’d expected him to move her onto her knees at some point for better access—but he didn’t. Instead, she felt his thighs slip to the outside of hers before he palmed both her labia and buttocks apart at once and thrust inside her.
She moaned into the mattress. It was so good having him inside her again. And in this position, with her legs enclosed within his, her pussy felt more constricted, making his impressive girth even more evident. After plunging in and out a few times, he placed one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her lower back and began rocking her entire body in a steady rhythm that matched his long, fluid strokes into her.
Thankfully her arms were attached low enough that she could rest on her elbows as the way he was bouncing her into the mattress and allowing the recoil to slam her back into his cock meant that she definitely required some small point of support.
He sped up the rhythm until her head was rattling back and forth and her pussy felt like it was being pounded into the permanent shape of his cock. As her pussy tightened, he slowed, not willing to let her come. She huffed with a mixture of relief and frustration. Her whole body was aching for release.
The sound of something hitting his palm reached her and, moments later, she felt his finger at her back entrance, covered with a layer of something cold and slippery. There was a little pressure as he breached the tight ring of muscle, sliding into her.
It wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d anticipated. She didn’t know if it was the fact that she’d cast the Histomalleus previously, but the sensation of being penetrated and then stimulated over and over with each gradually deepening thrust of his finger seemed more intense than painful. And as he resumed driving his cock into her pussy, she found that the combined sensation brought a whole new level of appreciation for the intensity that could be achieved with bodily stimulation.
Then he took it up a notch. A second finger joined the first and suddenly the burning sting had her gasping. But his other hand moved to rest just over her tailbone and as he pushed down with his full weight, he began plunging into her pussy much more forcefully. The added stimulation seemed to overwhelm the sensation in her rectum to the point that her entire pelvis just became one thumping ball of friction-induced tension.
All she could do was groan. To have so much energy focused upon such a small part of her body made her feel like a pressure cooker. And the explosion was coming. He began rotating his fingers with each thrust into her rectum, reigniting her passage and making her muscles spasm. And his cock still hadn’t let up.
It was all too much. Burying her face in the mattress, she let out a throat-shredding scream as her entire body was wracked by convulsions. A moment later he joined her, a guttural shout bursting from him as he pumped his seed into her spasming channel.
It seemed to go on much longer than she could ever remember an orgasm lasting—as though her muscles had been so hyper-sensitised that they continued to seize in self-perpetuating waves that left her heaving for breath, wrung out and trembling. And as her arms were released, she moaned at the sudden realisation of how much pain there was.
But then it all changed. He cast spell after spell, cleansing, healing and cooling her before rolling her into his arms.
“I realised too late,” he murmured, kissing her gently on her wet cheeks. She wasn’t aware that she’d been crying.
“Realised what?” she rasped weakly.
“That it was too much.”
“No . . . no it wasn’t.” She shook her head as vigorously as her exhaustion would allow. “That was incredible . . . I’ve never felt anything like it. That’s what I wanted . . . to be challenged . . . to find my limits.”
“It seems you found them.” He traced a finger over her lips, still looking concerned.
“Not even close,” she smiled, darting her tongue out to lick his fingertips. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough . . . And in the meantime I expect you to come up with a few more of those . . . handy . . . little . . . tricks.”
He shook his head faintly as his gaze intensified. “I find you extraordinary,” he whispered.
“And I find you so extraordinary that I don’t want to take my contraceptive potion.”
His eyes widened in alarm.
“I mean . . . I don’t want to take is straight away. Because . . . I’d like to go again . . . and maybe . . . again and . . . Anyway, do we need to continue to follow the Order’s expectations to fulfil the enchantment only once a week?”
“I happen to think it’s time we informed the Order of the new regimen,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Which is?”
“Whenever we fucking feel like it,” he growled, kissing her neck and making her shriek with laughter.
***
He’d said to give him five minutes. She clearly didn’t want anyone to see her leaving his rooms, so she was waiting for him to prepare the Potions classroom to enable her to slip in without suspicion. In the meantime, she wandered around his chambers, looking at nothing in particular and thinking about the extraordinary evening they’d shared.
They’d fucked three times more. But the last time had been so slow and gentle and sleepy, his forehead resting against hers, their bodies melting together, that in her mind they’d been making love. And the blossoming feeling in her chest only confirmed what she’d come to suspect—she was in love with him. She loved him.
He wasn’t the most sensible person in the world to have fallen in love with from a practical perspective—she realised that. But there was absolutely nothing that her logical brain could do to convince her that it wasn’t the case, or that she should somehow try to stifle her feelings. She loved him and she would tell him. In fact—she gave an excited little jump—she might even tell him today.
***
“What happened to you?” Harry whispered, joining her beside their cauldron.
Hermione glanced around to make sure no one was listening.
“Oh, I’ve just had this virus.” She started chopping a small bunch of red roots. “It was really strange . . . came on suddenly. They didn’t want anyone else to get it so I was sort of quarantined.”
“We could have visited—just not gotten too close.”
“I know. I said that . . . Can you weigh out those beetle wings please? . . . It was a bit of overkill really. How did the Quidditch match go?”
“Not too bad, we beat the HuffleDuffers as expected. Ron had a few good saves. I missed the Snitch.” He shook the jar of beetle wings out onto the scales. “Would have been good if you’d made it.”
“I know. I’m really sorry.” Hermione could see the disappointment on Harry’s face. They’d really spent very little time together over the past couple of months. “Do you want a game of chess later?”
He snorted. “You hate chess.”
“How about a walk then?”
“Yeah, alright.” A reluctant grin spread across his face. “I have a feeling you’ve got a few things to tell me.”
Did she?
“Parvati said you were with Snape.”
“What?!”
“On detention. Lavender saw you going down to the Dungeons and Parvati said the old git had given you detention for not getting the last assignment in—even though you were sick.”
Hermione sighed inwardly. “Yes . . . It was a bit rough . . . uh . . . unfair. You know—just writing boring lines and stuff.”
“And stuff?”
“Cleaning.”
“Git,” Harry muttered glancing at Snape. “He’s watching you like a hawk too. You must have really pissed him off.”
She looked up to see Severus staring at her, her insides instantly clenching. “Yes . . . it was quite a severe . . . punishment.”
Dragging her eyes away from him, Hermione tried to focus on their potion.
“I’ll start stirring, if you can add the wings a few at a time.”
As Harry began dropping wings into the cauldron, Hermione looked around the room to see what everyone else was up to.
Her eyes settled upon Draco who was working alone at the back. He looked terrible—skin so pale it was almost grey, eyes bloodshot, and as he stirred, she could see a definite tremble to his fingers. Despite everything, she suddenly felt sorry for him. The enchantment was clearly taking a heavy toll.
She’d tried to block it out, but she’d known the remaining Death Eaters would have had very little time after her stunt with Lucius to fulfil the enchantment. Had Draco managed to do it? He was still here . . . but at what cost?
Not for the first time, she felt the unease in the pit of her stomach when she considered who the easiest prey for the Death Eaters were—females of non-childbearing age—older women and children. It made her sick to think about it but she wondered if they had been targeted. And could she have made it more likely due to her actions on Friday night?
Something else came back to her then too. Why had Lucius Malfoy insisted that the bodily transformation could only be achieved through Polyjuice? Why not the Histomalleus spell? It was something she’d been meaning to ask Severus. They were having lunch in his chambers that afternoon—she would ask him then.
***
“Is there something wrong?” Severus regarded her with concern as she sat by the fire, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
Hermione sighed. “There are just a few things I don’t understand . . . about the enchantment.”
Severus’ frown deepened but he didn’t ask her what they were.
“Why didn’t Malfoy suggest the Histomalleus spell as a method of bodily transformation, as well as Polyjuice?”
Hermione noticed Severus’ finger tapping against his folded arms. He seemed reluctant to answer. Finally he shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t know about the effects of the Histomalleus spell.”
Hermione looked at him in confusion. “Don’t know? Why wouldn’t they know? It’s their enchantment. Don’t they understand how it works?”
He flicked his hand dismissively but Hermione noticed how uncomfortable he still appeared. “Who knows? It’s a complicated enchantment. All of the elements may not be fully understood.”
“But you understand them.”
He didn’t respond. Then she saw it, his thumb drawing along the cuticle of his ring finger. That nervous gesture she’d identified right back on their first day together.
She realised then that her heart was thumping. It was something she’d tried to ignore, but it had been with her the whole time. She needed to know the truth once and for all.
Hermione stood on shaky legs.
“Severus, I will ask you this only once. But if you care about me at all, you will answer me honestly.” She took a deep breath. “Did you create the enchantment for Voldemort?”
“No.”
Relief flooded her as she collapsed back onto the chair.
Then he levelled his eyes at her, a torrent of guilt and anguish washing over his face. “I devised the enchantment . . . for myself.”
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Doing it for the Order *Complete*

Doing it for the Order Complete