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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: Hey guys, I’ve had a couple of questions about the meaning of the ending to the last chapter. Basically it was intended to be obscure, making it unclear whether they are finally on the same page, or whether they are continuing to miscommunicate and misunderstand. Hope that makes sense, DSx
Anon – Unfortunately RL doesn’t let me write as much as I would want but I’m trying to get chapters up as quickly as possible. :) And, yes, it will be interesting to see if/when he can win her over!
OO – ‘I'm also cringing the whole time I'm reading’ – bahahah – so rewarding to think that people are discomfort-reading. :) ‘You know I don't want to know yet.’ – all will be revealed this chapter. Thanks for the fixes as always xx
Kvarta – ‘if you count 2:30 AM as day’ – I can’t remember the last time I was up at 2.30am :) ‘I have to work and she won't let me’ – so do I!! ‘The way you described him...sound like my ex’ – if he looks like Snape, why is he your ex??! ‘"Bloody hell, she thinks too much."’ – hahahaha – my husband says the same thing about me. ‘Btw, she irks me to no end! Can I take her place? Can I? *blink, blink*’ – actually there have been quite a few Muggle women offering to take her place. I’ll see what I can arrange :) <3<3
Ali – Never too late. I love your comments. Even though I don’t know your accent, I feel like I can hear it through your writing. ‘hard for him in more ways than one’ – LOL. ‘Oh well .....it's a dirty job having to pleasure the potions master in order to save his crown jewels from a fate worse than death but I'd do it in a heartbeat.’ – I’ll put your name on the list ;) ‘I now expect you to be chained to the keyboard to give us more.’ – of course, kind master. xx
Faerieduster - ‘With more deliciously annoying back and forth internal dilemmas’ – bahahah – ‘deliciously annoying’ sums it up perfectly. ‘I really hope that her "Stop!" means she got there at the same time he did’ – not this time . . . ;) Next chapter hot off the press! x

Chapter 8 – Out of Order

Hermione closed the door gently behind her as she returned to the biting chill of the classroom. Both his lounge and bedroom had been toasty warm in comparison, generous fires still crackling within each. It was unfortunate, however, that the warmth hadn’t extended to his dispassionate farewell.
Obviously keen for her to leave, he’d barely uttered a word from the moment he’d thrust himself up from the bed and strode swiftly to what she presumed was the bathroom, leaving her to get dressed alone. He’d returned to show her to the door, but offered only the briefest of nods when she suggested meeting for further tuition the following Tuesday. He didn’t respond to her goodbye. Now she stood shivering with a cold vial of contraceptive potion in her fist, facing the long walk back to her room.
Could she really expect more? They’d had sex twice but the truth was that she still barely knew him. Sometimes it seemed as though they’d managed to break through, sharing some tenuous thread of understanding but most of the time it was clear that they were worlds apart. He’d respected her wishes not to come, and even assisted her to prevent it. But his displeasure was evident. The entire thing was awkward. She was awkward, she realised that. But was it her job to make him feel better? Could she make him feel better?
Whenever she thought about his predicament, his perspective, wondering how he must feel, she was met with blackness—a whole lot of nothing. She couldn’t even visualise his life, his circumstances. If she trusted Harry’s judgement, Snape was constantly plotting and manoeuvring to achieve the best possible outcome for himself, whilst satisfying some pretty sordid fetishes along the way.
And then there was the Order, who portrayed him as some sort of noble martyr, selflessly sacrificing himself for the cause. The real question was, ‘why?’ Why would he put himself in such a position? If her own instincts were anywhere near accurate, he despised his predicament. So why did he do it? What was he getting out of it? Was it intended as a punishment perhaps—atonement for past wrongs? Did he owe something to the Order? Or even to Dumbledore, himself?
She realised then that until she saw him as something other than a representative of the business of the Order, she was going to have trouble interacting with him at all. They needed to talk . . . properly. But the dynamic surrounding their forced intimacy had been so combative, it was difficult to envisage circumstances under which they might suddenly engage in some sort of pleasant small-talk—there didn’t seem to be any common ground whatsoever. Perhaps she would try to initiate something approximating a normal conversation when they met again on Tuesday. Although what ‘normal’ actually meant, especially in the current context, she was no longer sure.
Moving silently through the corridors, she clung to the shadowed walls in an effort to avoid being caught—although she was confident, especially now, that Dumbledore would ensure she was spared a reprimand.
Hurrying up a stone stairwell, a sudden clatter caused her to spin around. Was she being followed?
“Granger!” A voice hissed in her ear.
She shrieked, turning to find a strong arm barring her way.
A thin sliver of moonlight cut a luminous strip across one silvery eye and half the smirking mouth of her assailant.
“Malfoy,” she spat, her heart hammering. “Get out of my way.”
“Or what?”
“Just get out of my fucking way.” She thumped a fist into the crook of his arm.
He snatched her hand and squeezed it tightly in his fist.
“Now that’s not very nice is it? I only wanted to pass on an invitation.”
“For what? Are you finally leaving?”
“As a matter of fact I am.” His lip curled. “But just for this evening. I hoped you’d join me?”
“Hah!” she barked in his face. “Since when were you given permission to leave the castle at night?”
“Since my father arranged for me to help in his club. Every Friday night we hold an exclusive gathering. Only special guests allowed. V . . . I . . . P’s.” He spat the last letter against her cheek.
She shuffled her foot backwards until she felt the edge of the stair.
“Suddenly I’m a VIP, am I?” she sneered.
“Oh yes,” he breathed, a lascivious glint in his eye. “You’re hot property.”
Fucking bastard.
Lightning fast, she whipped out her wand and jammed it into his groin. “Let me pass now. Or you lose these.”
His mouth dropped open in shock before contorting into a snarl. “You’re in no position to threaten me, Mudblood. You haven’t a clue what you’re up against. It’s only a matter of time before you get what’s coming to you . . . more times than you can fucking count.”
Dropping his hand down from the wall, he reached forward and gratuitously ran his hand up her leg, giving her inner thigh a painful squeeze before pushing roughly past. And as his footfalls echoed off the stone steps, she found herself clinging to the cold wall, contraceptive potion in hand—unable to move forward and unable to go back.
***
She must have felt it too.
Passing his practised nostrils over the open bottle, he inhaled deeply. Nothing. Undetectable. And yet it was clearly tainted. Most likely poison. He’d imbued all of his glassware, crockery and cutlery with powdered Bezoar to protect himself, his natural distrust having saved his life on more than one occasion.
But the detoxification this time had been incomplete. He’d experienced it as a vaguely warped perception. She was obviously more severely affected—no doubt a result of the fact that she’d guzzled a whole glass, combined with her far slighter build.
It was an extremely risky manoeuvre to deliver a poisoned bottle of wine to a Potions Master. Only someone extraordinarily arrogant would attempt such a thing—indeed he remembered the smirk on Lucius Malfoy’s face when he’d turned up unannounced and dropped this particular bottle into his lap.
The blond wizard had a habit of doing such things—irritating Snape no-end—and of demanding Snape’s best Firewhisky instead of his own plonk, that there had been no particular reason to be suspicious.
But Malfoy was also very much aware that the only person Snape would share a drink with was Dumbledore. No doubt they’d seen it as a perfect opportunity to remove the great wizard once and for all. And Snape didn’t flatter himself that his own demise would constitute anything other than a useful byproduct.
Yet this evening he’d shared a drink with someone else. A person who had stood in defiance, demanding to be allowed to finish it. This evening, without his precautions, Miss Granger would have died.
***
“What are you saying, Severus?” Dumbledore turned from one of the cabinets in his office, a small glass pyramid hovering over his palm. “That Death Eaters are now targeting Hogwarts? That they’re looking to infiltrate?”
“It has been implied, Headmaster.” Snape placed the wine bottle on Dumbledore’s desk. “There are indications that they are looking for a portal of entry.”
Dumbledore gazed down at the pyramid as it began to rotate, casting fans of rainbows across the walls. “And yet they also seek a passive invasion. Via . . . gifts?”
“I would not be the first to be distracted by such.” Snape looked uneasily at Dumbledore’s hand.
“Ah yes.” Dumbledore held up his blackened fingers, more withered now than when Snape had attended to them only weeks previous. “None of us are immune to the lure of trinkets . . . or, indeed, the more insidious enticement of flattery.”
Dumbledore snatched the pyramid out of the air before fixing Snape with his piercing gaze.
“How go things with Miss Granger?”
She nearly died. For some reason he was incapable of relating that particular piece of information.
Instead, he made his way over to the window. “It has happened. On two occasions. That’s all that can be said.”
“A courageous young woman.” Dumbledore nodded.
“She suspects my involvement.”
Dumbledore grew quiet.
When he finally spoke, it was by Snape’s side, without any indication of how he’d crossed the room.
“And you sought to dissuade her from such thoughts?”
Snape turned to him. “When was Miss Granger ever one to be ‘dissuaded’?”
Dumbledore held his gaze. “Do not blame her. Others may have reached the same conclusion about the enchantment.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Sighing, Dumbledore cast his eyes downward. “She was perhaps more likely. But she is the best option. You know that yourself.”
“From whose perspective?”
“You are also a victim in this, Severus, never forget that.” Dumbledore’s dying fingers wrapped around his arm.
“That’s a terribly overused term, don’t you think?” Snape remarked bitterly.
“We all have regrets.” Dumbledore flexed his blackened claw. “It doesn’t mean we are immoral. It simply means we are imperfect. Fallible. We are human.”
“Fallibility I could live with,” Severus muttered.
“And so you are going to have to live with this.”
***
He was inside her again. He’d cancelled their tuition—a brief note by owl at the last moment. There’d been no conversation. No thawing. Just more of this. Him mechanically pumping into her. Her trying not to come.
He was taking her from behind again but she was still finding it difficult. She wasn’t sure if was because of his size. He felt big but she really had nothing to compare it to. Or perhaps the sensations were so new to her that she had no way of mitigating against them. Either way, she could feel each new layer of tension being laid down, building and churning and pulling inside her. The muscles within her core were so tight it was almost painful.
She’d masturbated a number of times that week. Partly in an attempt to avoid this. But also because she’d left his rooms so aroused and dissatisfied the previous week that the agitation was making it difficult for her to focus on anything else, including her study.
She dropped her chin into her chest, squeezing her eyes closed as he sped up.
But it was too much. She was just too close.
“Stop. I’m going to come,” she ground out.
“I’m close,” he gasped.
She was closer.
Suddenly, her legs and arms gave way and she collapsed onto the bed just as she heard his, now familiar, groan behind her. A warm spray spattered her buttocks followed by an anguished howl and a loud thump.
He was on the ground.
Why was he on the ground?
Oh Gods!
I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry!” The words ran together in a constant stream as she scrambled off the bed to kneel beside him.
His hands were cupped over his genitals and he was writhing in agony. The enchantment hadn’t been fulfilled. Since he’d come on her instead of inside her, it had delivered its punishment. What had he said? A shot of pain so severe that it made the Cruciatus pale by comparison.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaned over him, shaking her head in disbelief. “Professor, I’m just so sorry. I . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
“Leave.” The word was so anguished, it brought tears to her eyes.
“I can help you. Please . . . please tell me what I can do.”
He panted heavily against the floor before using the last of his strength to lift his head and look at her.
“Get out,” he growled.
Staggering to her feet, she snatched up her clothes and backed away from him, watching as he continued to writhe on the floor before turning and fleeing out the door.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Doing it for the Order *Complete*

Doing it for the Order Complete