Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize, including JKR's works and the song that inspired this piece, and I'm certainly making no profit.

Author's Note: Many thanks to my devoted and wonderful beta, Shi'ar. I have a bit of a lead on this story, having written much of it, and will post weekly.


"I put a spell on you

Because you're mine…"

Severus Snape looked well. Hermione wasn't entirely surprised. She and Harry had worked tirelessly together to ensure he had received the best care over the summer. He'd been convalescing at Grimmauld, under 24/7 supervision from private healers. After the first week at St. Mungo's, she and Harry had pleaded with Kingsley to let Snape be transferred to Harry's home, where he could recover in privacy. Eventually, her role in his care had diminished as he began to gain strength, and she threw all of her focus into passing an accelerated summer N.E.W.T.s preparation that Minerva had arranged for those up to the task. She had been by often to see Harry, and dropped in on Snape - more for curiosity's sake than anything. He fascinated her, and she was trying desperately to reform her opinion on him after knowing the truth about him. He was by turns aloof and hostile, sneering at them in derision one moment and ignoring them the next. It was clear he wasn't happy he'd survived Nagini's attack, but neither she nor Harry were content to see him languish, and pressed on despite his thankless attitude.

Ever the champion of justice, Hermione had determinedly constructed with Harry their argument for Snape's Wizengamot hearing. When not immersed in her studies - she knew she'd been ahead for ages through private study, but was surprised at how very prepared she did feel for the upcoming exams - she was pouring over every law book she could get her hands on. Kingsley had been rather quiet on the matter, though he had also viewed the memories and knew Snape to be a hero and agent of the Light. But he had warned them it would be hard to change the minds of others, without spreading the memories around like candy. Even modified, the memories were deeply personal, and Harry was loath to expose their former professor in such a way. That, in addition to the fact that there was such a fervor against Snape that the memories would hardly make a dent into their preconceived notions, had Hermione and Harry grasping to find a more steady ground for their defence case.

She glanced warily at Harry as the Undersecretary began to read the charges against Snape in a high, snooty tone, not unlike her predecessor, that toad Umbridge. She was disappointed but not surprised when it turned out to be a rather lengthy exposition, causing Hermione to roll her eyes at some of the trivial things being recited. Ultimately, all of it was trivial to her; without Snape's contribution and incredible sacrifices, they would all be in a world of utter darkness now. They should be exonerating him immediately and handing him an Order of Merlin, First Class. Nothing concerning the Ministry was ever easy, though. After the Undersecretary finished her recitement, she sat down primly and smirked in triumph, folding her hands across her lap as if she'd accomplished some great deed.

Harry stood to counter, and Hermione gave him an encouraging smile. He spoke of Snape turning to Dumbledore, all those years ago, attempting to save an innocent family from Voldemort - leaving out that Snape was driven to this because he was desperately in love with Harry's mum. He expounded on Dumbledore's plan and his wish for Snape to kill him, for the dual purpose of putting Dumbledore out of his curse-ridden misery and Snape gaining the ultimate favour of the Dark Lord. He spoke at length about the moments through the years that Snape had saved their sorry hides, with no help from them as they took on the mantle of the Golden Trio, blinded by their self-righteousness. He even recounted how he knew Snape had done what he could as Headmaster to subtly protect the staff and students from the Death Eaters who tried to torture them.

Harry was sweating buckets as he finished, and a long, excruciating silence descended on the room. Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand, nonverbally signaling that he'd presented excellently. She glanced to Snape, who was peering at them with a furrowed brow. Did he really not expect them to have his back, after the weeks they had spent dedicated to his healing? And how could he just sit there, in silence, entirely stoic as if the rest of his life didn't hang in the balance?

Her gaze swept over the shuffling plum robes of the Wizengamot, attempting to discern their reaction to Harry's impassioned speech, but it was as if they had perfected stoic visages so as not to give anything away. She had a sinking feeling that they should have brought Dumbledore's portrait with them. They had discussed doing so as they'd formed their argument in Snape's defence, but ultimately they had decided against it, choosing to instead rely on the testimony of the Boy Who Had Saved All Their Arses.

The tension was palpable as a parchment was handed to Kingsley, who scanned it quickly. It was with a grim visage that the new Minister began to read.

"Severus Snape - it is the decision of the Wizengamot to preclude you from being sent to Azkaban with the others who bear the Dark Mark."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and she and Harry exchanged satisfied smiles.

Then her heart dropped to her stomach as Kingsley continued.

"However," Kingsley added, his frown making his disapproval evident, "because of your involvement in the inner circle of Voldemort and due to your use of an Unforgivable Curse causing the death of Albus Dumbledore, you are hereby restricted the use of your magic."

Hermione's jaw dropped open in dismay. Harry jumped up beside her, furious.

"That is entirely ludicrous, Kingsley, surely!" Harry's fists were clenched at his sides. At this outburst, there was discontented murmuring throughout the rows of witches and wizards who made up the Wizengamot.

Kingsley looked over the parchment at the riled young man, sending Harry a warning glare. Momentarily quelled, Harry stood with a clenched jaw, his rigid stance telling of his displeasure.

Continuing, the Minister looked to Snape and read, "You shall be allowed to retain the use of your magic exclusively under one condition." He paused, sighing tiredly, and set the parchment down. "You must enter into a marriage bond, in which your magic will be tied to your mate, and your spouse will be responsible for tempering you."

For the second time, Hermione found herself gaping at the Minister, hardly believing her ears. They had fought and risked everything in the war to save… this? An archaic regime that would reduce a man who'd saved them all to becoming a Squib unless he enslaved himself to a new master?

"This is barbaric," she spoke aloud firmly, and it resonated around the cavernous, quiet room. Heads turned her way in surprise. From the corner of her eye, she saw Snape staring at her. She could feel his eyes boring into her, even moreso than the shocked, outraged gazes of the Wizengamot.

"Young lady," spoke the Undersecretary, tilting her perfectly coiffed blonde head, "there is to be silence during the reading of a verdict." Her pompous tone set Hermione's teeth on edge.

"Oh, I do apologise; but I find myself entirely baffled by the fact that you are attempting to place this man, a veritable hero to all of us, in the clutches of yet another master - for the rest of his life!"

Harry's jaw was clamped tightly shut, and he looked as if he'd tasted something foul. He nodded in avid agreement with Hermione's words, clearly not trusting himself to refrain from having a violent outburst if he opened his mouth.

"Hermione," Kingsley murmured her name in admonishment. It grated at her. If he was counting on her usually reasonable demeanor, he was dead wrong, and in for quite a nasty surprise. How could he allow this? She understood that he was newly-appointed and with such came an inordinate amount of pressure. And, he had warned them of the attitudes toward Snape. But placating this madness seemed completely unacceptable to her.

"He has the option of not bonding," the Undersecretary spoke primly, as if it made all the sense in the world.

"And becoming a Squib! Fine choice that is!" Harry finally exploded, his fist coming down on the wood railing in front of him.

"That is enough!" boomed Kingsley, who stood abruptly. The room went silent in the face of his commanding presence. Kingsley glared at the Undersecretary, and then turned to Harry and Hermione. "The Wizengamot has come to a decision, and it shall be honored." He sounded sour about it himself, but nevertheless had to uphold it.

Harry sank down into his seat and scrubbed at his face with his hands. He met Hermione's eyes with grim determination, and her breath caught in her throat. She could read Harry like a book, and she knew what he was thinking; she had come to the same conclusion as he. It was mad, it was absolutely stark raving mad, but… she couldn't bear the thought of a wizard like Snape losing his magic. It was completely unfair, and she wished they could fight it, but they both understood the verdict was set in stone, and there was only one thing left to do.

Sucking in a deep lungful of air as she summoned her gumption, she stood and faced the Minister and Wizengamot. "I'll do it."

Kingsley gaped at her. "You'll do… what, exactly?"

Murmurs were growing louder and louder around the room, making her feel slightly dizzy. Damn her impetuous Gryffindor hide, but this certainly called for rash action. There was clearly no other way, and inaction was untenable. She and Harry hadn't worked themselves to the bone to keep Snape alive and steadily recovering, only to have him be rendered magically impotent and forgotten.

She lifted her chin high. "I will bond with him to save his magic. I find it utterly absurd that this ruling should dictate his fate in such a way, but I will do this."

She purposely didn't meet Snape's eyes, though she could feel them burning through her. She glanced at Harry, who was watching her with a resolute, but proud expression.

"Hermione," Kingsley started, but she would not let him finish.

"Please do not belittle my intelligence by trying to dissuade me. I was beside Harry as we fought Voldemort." She glared around the room as the majority of the gathered officials shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "I am quite capable of making this decision."

"Very well," Kingsley said, at length. "When shall we have the bonding document prepared?"

"Today," she responded determinedly. "Right now. I will not have him rendered magically impotent even for a moment. He's suffered quite enough."


"Do you consider yourself some kind of martyr?" Severus asked her angrily. How dare she do this, as if he wanted to be tied to a young, bossy, brash witch. As if he were something worth saving. As if he wanted to be saved at all! He was supposed to have died on the floor of that shack, his job done, and finally free of the guilt of which both of his masters had so easily taken advantage. But no, these two bullheaded Gryffindors had taken it upon themselves to save him; and now she, she had the audacity to charge in like some magnanimous rescuer instead of letting him rot like he deserved. How dare she!

"If I were you, I'd be inclined to show a modicum of gratitude," she said dispassionately, running her wand over her skirt and jacket. They were Transfigured into a simple white chiffon gown that came to rest just below her knees, with flowy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. She peered at herself in the mirror next to Kingsley's desk, and lifted her curls behind her head, securing them with a murmured Sticking Charm. Severus watched with growing horror as she transformed into a young bride, a look of resignation plastered on her face.

"I'm hardly going to dance a jig in resplendent bliss," he finally countered with a sneer. Perhaps if he was as mean as possible to her, she would retreat before she could follow through with this farce. "I am not so sure I wouldn't prefer to be a Squib than bonded to an insufferable know-it-all."

She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. "Is that really how you feel? Speak now, or forever hold your peace," she spat mockingly. When he remained silent, staring down his nose at her, stunned by her impertinence, she snorted derisively. "You might also consider a new insult. I scarcely think 'insufferable know-it-all' will hold up for the next one hundred years."

"Don't be so sure," he muttered sourly. It had been worth a try, but of course he was dealing with one of the most obstinate women he had ever had the displeasure of knowing. With not a little self-loathing he considered that perhaps after all the years he'd spent being so cruel, she'd become immune to his rudeness.

Harry entered the room, followed by Kingsley. Both looked positively decisive, their mouths set in stern lines. Harry strode to Hermione and took her elbow, pulling her back a few paces to murmur something to her. Severus watched with open antipathy.

Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder, and Severus gritted his teeth. "I am sorry, Severus. This is not what I wish for you, after your numerous sacrifices."

Severus jerked himself away and stalked forward. "Can we get this over with?" he sneered toward his supposed savior.

"Right." Hermione held her head high as she made her way over to Severus, coming to rest before him.

He glowered down at her, expecting to send her skittering away, renouncing her pledge to bond with him. He quickly faltered as she stared him down with tenacity, nearly unblinking in her intensity. Kingsley stepped to their sides, and Harry took Hermione's hand and kissed it before extending it out to Severus, an expectant look in his haunting green eyes. Severus felt panic clawing at his throat as he stared into the eyes of his beloved Lily; his whole life seemed to flash before him, which hadn't even been the case when that damned snake had tried to do him in.

Willing his hand to stop shaking, mentally roaring at himself to calm the fuck down, he took Hermione's hand in his, darting his alarmed gaze to her. Her warm brown eyes enfolded him, and her hand squeezed his, and he briefly wondered if her offered comfort was genuine as Kingsley began incanting with his wand in hand.

A weave of shimmering gold encircled their arms and wrists, wrapping around them like clinging vines. It felt like electricity was rocketing up his arm, and he could tell from her awed expression that the sensations were mutual.

He glared to the side at Kingsley, who was rotating his wand in a delicate movement as the spell took effect.

"A soul bond?" Severus ground out, anger seeping out of every pore.

Kingsley cocked his head at him. "Surely you expected this, Severus. Your mate must be responsible for tempering your magic. A soul bond marriage was the only option."

Hermione's grip tightened on Severus' hand in alarm. "It would have been nice to know!" she scolded, frowning down at the golden vines.

They shimmered vibrantly for a moment, and then both Hermione and Severus gasped as their magics sealed together, sending a jolt through both of them. His magic, feeling dark and sensual, settled like velvet through her. Her magic, warm and bright, poured into his body like firewhisky. As the golden bonds dissipated, they continued holding on to one another, both overwhelmed from the breathtaking sensation that had engulfed them.

"It is done," Kingsley told them, sheathing his wand back inside his robes.

Hermione pulled her hand away, rubbing along her wrist and the palm of her hand as if she'd been burned. She felt… different. As if her insides had been scrambled, as if she weren't alone inside of herself any longer. It was, without a doubt, the most disorienting feeling she'd ever experienced. Settling her gaze on her newly-bonded other half, she found that he appeared to be as shaky as she.

Snape slumped for a moment, appearing worn and haggard. Harry took his arm immediately.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked him with concern.

Snape hissed and pulled away. "I don't need your help, Potter." He glared at Hermione. "The both of you have done quite enough." His tone was not appreciative as he muttered the angry words.

Hermione felt his resentment roil through her, and at her widened eyes, her new husband stared at her suspiciously for a mere moment before she felt a wall block their connection.

Concentrating with the last bit of his strength, Severus Occluded strongly. He'd been relatively relaxed as he'd recuperated the past few weeks, and had even begun to wonder if he wouldn't need to use his Occlumency in this strange new post-war world. But of course, his life could never be peaceful, or simple. The level of Occlumency he employed hardly hurt anymore, and it would be his one protection in this farce of a marriage.