A/N: This story is all about awkwardness. This is the first part of the last chapter, and I wanted this to not be the traditional "Hermione go blazing in to save the world, together with her friends." Because really, there's no awkwardness in that - that's just plain heroism and glory.

Together, part one and two spans about two months, from the middle of October to New Years Eve. Part one is set in October - November, but with flashbacks. The second part will be up a few days later. I had t split it up because this chapter is a monster - almost 13 000 words (Gah! no wonder it took ages to write…).

Thanks for being patient with me! I would love to hear what you think of this, and I promise, the last chapter will be up by the end of the weekend. It's almost finished.


Part one of The Headmaster's Wife: Sidelined


The students were filing into the Great Hall for dinner, heads down, everyone trying to avoid the attention of the dark, scowling menace standing tall at the Head table. No one was chattering, no one was smiling, and she knew, no one dared, this year. Their steps clattered in the echoing silence of the Great Hall, and even the lovely smells wafting from the food couldn't bring any amount of comfort and happiness.

Her husband domineered the Hall, though all the old teachers were glaring daggers at him. She had to applaud Minerva's act, though. If she hadn't known it was an act, she'd believed her to be furious. The two new Death Eater teachers, the Carrows, grinned sycophantically at Severus, wanting to get into the good graces of Voldemort's most trusted man.

She stood beside him, the babe nestling in her arms, staring out at the sea of students, trying to look nearly as haughty as her husband, like she was proud to be the Death Eater Headmaster's wife. Pretending to be proud to be his Mudblood wife, proud to belong to him, to obey him, to be his submissive little wife to the public eye.

The truth was, it wasn't that hard to fake. She was proud to be the wife of the bravest, most self-sacrificing man she knew. Now, Severus was facing the Dark Lord almost every day as his most trusted counsellor, subverting his commands right under his nose, while being praised and rewarded by that vile monster. All the while holding up, despite the strain on him. Hermione vowed for the umpteenth time: She would bring Voldemort down for putting her husband, Harry and the world through this. They would bring him down, together. But how was she to accomplish that?

Her thought were interrupted, as Little John started squalling in her arms. Sharing a quick look with Severus, he dismissed her haughtily with a nod, and she ducked her head like she was nervous and afraid, scurrying out of the Great Hall.

On her way out, she bumped into the train of Gryffindors, marching to their table as if they went to their doom. Meeting Ginny's angry glare was always harsher than she had imagined, and Hermione almost winced by the hatred of her former friend's stare. Her friend, believing she was the enemy, for staying with her husband. Her friend, believing her to have deserted Harry, throwing her lot in with Voldemort and her Death Eater husband.

Ginny didn't say a word, but it wasn't necessary: Her fierce stance, the way her whole body tensed as if she was a coiled spring, proved she'd do anything to harm Hermione. Maybe even little John. Hermione felt shivers crawl down her spine, moving hurriedly forward.

A few steps behind Ginny, Neville looked at her with the sad, stricken look he always gave as he saw her baby. It felt like a cruel hook embedding itself into her heartstrings, dragging a sigh out of her.

"Hermione…" he whispered, his voice now a deep rumble of worry. "Are you alright? Has he hurt you? I'd do anything to help you, just say the word."

Giving him a small smile - sweet, caring Neville, bravely outing himself as a rebel to help her, though all evidence in the world pointed to her being a traitor - she shook her head, nuzzling her chin into the fuzzy head of her infant. Neville's face fell, and she could tell, he thought she stayed with Severus to save her child. Opening his mouth slightly, he snapped it shut, instead giving her a reassuring pat on her shoulder as she walked by. His big, sorrowful eyes followed her as she moved on.

Hermione bit her lip, fighting back her tears. This year was one long haul, and she couldn't understand how Severus could stand upright, being on the receiving end of all that hatred. Sighing, she took mentally stock of her situation.

Xxxx

Their plan had worked out very well, in fact better than she had imagined. Harry and Ron had ensconced themselves safely in Grimmauld after the Ministry fell to Voldemort. As their established contact, Minerva had been able to supply them with news, food and knowledge - communication secured by Hermione's very own altered Protean Charm, though this time, it was in the form of a two-way diary, shared between the boys and Minerva. The boys, though, thought Minerva was the only one who read their messages.

As for herself, she had concentrated on taking her NEWTS early, studying the whole summer until the Ministry fell. Out of necessity, Severus and herself had been cooped up inside the house at Spinner's End, staying out of sight, hunted like criminals, for conspiring with Voldemort and killing Dumbledore.

Severus had worked tirelessly to research the Horcruxes, together with Minerva. There had been several stints where he came home from meeting the Dark Lord, hollow-eyed and pale. No amount of cuddling or chocolate could make him smile, and sometimes, it had lasted for days, making the tiny house at Spinner's End gloomy and sad. She was aware he had a death count, but all she knew, it kept climbing higher and higher throughout summer. Thank Merlin, his mood had improved when their son was born. It was, she mused, like he had found something more to live for.

Her NEWTs done, she had to her great surprise passed with flying honours, as soon as it was safe for them to venture out. Both of them had to pretend to bask in the victory of the Dark Lord, and they had moved to Hogwarts when Severus was appointed Headmaster. She had given birth late in August, putting everything else on the sideline. Born healthy and strong, with a shock of black hair and a grumpy disposition, their baby boy had to suffer the Dark Lord as a Godfather.

It was the only time Voldemort had showed up at Hogwarts, and Hermione didn't really know if she should laugh or cry at the memory.

The visit had been announced half an hour in advance, and had resulted in a flurry of activities: Hiding maps, books, scrolls and the like from their Horcrux research away from the Headmaster's office. The Dark Lord had breezed in their window, not having a single touchdown on the Hogwarts grounds before he stood on the window sill, black cloak flapping ominously, his yellowish toes clinging to the crumbling mortar.

"Good afternoon, Severus, Hermione," the man had said politely, like having the Dark Lord for tea, him entering through the window at the topmost turret, was a normal occurrence.

"Please come in, my Lord," Severus said, gesturing to the room. As for herself, she had hovered nervously in the background, clasping the barely two days old infant closely to her chest.

Voldemort stepped gracefully down into the room, like he was a ballet dancer. Gazing around, he muttered: "So much the same, and yet so different."

The portraits of the former Headmasters were all present, everyone staring stiffly at the Dark Lord. The man grinned evilly, and waved a hand: "Hello, Albus. How does it suit you, being dead?"

The portrait of Dumbledore merely frowned at him.

"Please, join us for tea," Severus said, and Voldemort took a seat.

Severus poured the tea, offering Voldemort milk and sugar. With a detached interest, Hermione noted that he took a splash of milk and two sugars, and she wondered how normal he seemed, doing these things, even helping himself to a lemon and ginger biscuit from the tray, the holes that should have been nostrils contracting and expanding as he inhaled the aroma of the tea.

"Congratulations," the Dark Lord said, peering curiously at her child. "Allow me…"

Before she or Severus could even voice a protest, the man had grabbed the baby, holding it securely in the hook of his arm. She had felt an acute sense of panic, not knowing what this monster was capable of, though oddly enough, it seemed like he knew how to cradle a child in his arms.

He whispered: "Revelis magicae," and a strong, blinding blue light shone from the brow and heart of their son.

"Good," the Dark Lord crooned. "You'll be a strong boy, a powerful wizard to rival your father - and your mother."

Blinking, heart still in her throat, she held out her arms, asking wordlessly to have her child back from the monster in their living room.

Nonchalantly, the Dark Lord delivered the baby back in her arms, patting the black curls on her boy's head with something that could be mistaken for good will.

"Name?" he not so much asked, as ordered, and Severus played his part, yet again, perfectly. "We'd like to name him after you, my Lord, but se couldn't presume to use your name. We've decided to call him John…"

"You can use one of my names," the Dark Lord said graciously, nibbling on another biscuit. "Marvolo. John Marvolo."

Her eyes almost goggling, she nodded, pretending to be awestruck. Severus was, of course, ever ready, and said glibly: "Such honour, my Lord, we aren't worthy…"

"Nonsense," the Dark Lord said. "You are my trusted lieutenant, and she… well, suffice to say, you deserve recognition. Your son will be allowed to use my middle name."

Thus it had happened, her son had the dubious honoured to be named after her Muggle Dad and the Dark Lord. Earlier, Severus had vehemently denied using his father's name or any name from the Prince family. Now, they were in agreement that the name "Marvolo" would be history as soon as the Dark Lord was dead.

Xxxx

As she walked up to the Headmaster's quarters, she still felt a small twinge of soreness between her legs. Six weeks after the birth, she was still sure that not everything was quite alright - yet. The midwitch had said, she would be in due time, though.

Hermione shuddered, not wanting to think about the harrowing experience of the birth. The best she could say, was that she was happy her son was well and healthy.

They had come in much too late to the hospital, and surprisingly, it had been a breech birth. It had lasted 36 hours, and she had been so exhausted and in so much pain, with a severe loss of blood. She had thought she'd die, and from the looks of the mediwitch and midwitch, they were worried too. Poor Severus, he had completely panicked, yelling for them to help her.

And finally, she could hold her small, sweet little babe in her arms, though at that point, she hadn't enough strength to hold him, just letting the small, warm body rest on her chest, silent tears of relief and joy running down her face.

She was thankful though, for having a late birth. If this had happened before Voldemort's takeover in the Ministry, she might not have survived without the help of St. Mungo's. Before the fall of the Ministry, both of them had been considered wanted criminals, no being able to just waltz into St. Mungo's, even for a birth. As it was, the angry and disappointed looks the mediwitches and wizards had given them was awkward enough.

"Are you sure we shouldn't help you to get away?" a young nurse had whispered to her. " I know people that'll help you, hide you and your baby."

The earnest, worried look on the nurse's face had made her almost crushingly grateful, grateful for the fact that there were people in this world who were willing to risk themselves to help others, to thwart Voldemort. Her motions on a roller-coaster with the hormones of birth, she had cried freely, sniffling her reply: "No… thank you so much, I don't nee-heed it, I will stay with h-h-im, he's my hu-hu-husband…"

The nurse had been sceptical, trying to convince her to escape, but in the end, Hermione had needed to spout Death Eater ideology to stave off her efforts: "I support my husband and his Master wholeheartedly. I have seen the error of my ways, and I will do anything in my power to make our Lord's vision a reality."

The nurse had shuddered, looking at her with revulsion, her eyes growing cold, and Hermione had cried even more after the nurse had left the room: Crying for the deception they had to live, for disappointing this well-meaning witch, crying for her own, lost reputation.

It had been fantastic to return to Hogwarts, living safely in the Headmaster's quarters, with an army of House-elves standing ready to help her with little John. She couldn't even feel it in her to be ashamed, as the House-elves clearly loved the baby beyond all reason. They would help her with advice on nursing, asking her to change John, teaching her spells to rock the cradle and wizarding lullabies. Still, she was tired and sleep-deprived, preferring to take care of John herself, every, exhausting minute of it all.

Hobbling into their quarters, she sank down in the comfortable, green plush sofa with a groan. The fire crackled in the fireplace, the burning wood giving off a pleasant scent. The House-Elves, ever considerate, had already set a covered silver tray with today's dinner on the table for her, and the delicious smell of roast chicken filled the room. She sniffed hungrily, her mouth almost watering, but it would have to wait. Settling in with grey, soft pillows at the ready, she nursed herself and her son into dozing.

Xxxx

Sometime later, her husband arrived, pulling her out of her fog of sleep. Opening her eyes, she saw him stand still, staring at the two of them with a small smile around his lips, and his eyes told her, he was proud of his small family.

"Hello, love," he said softly, "let me take John, and then you can rest properly. But please, have some dinner at first. You need food too."

She almost felt guilty, seeing his own tired and drawn face, but she gave up the small, warm bundle to him, seeing her husband lift the baby with a tender, loving expression in his eyes.

Oh, her husband - he was infatuated with little John. There was no other way to put it. Her tall menace of a husband, scaring people left and right, doling out harsher punishments than Hogwarts had seen in years while trying to keep the Carrows in check, was perfectly willing to soothe their baby, sing to him, rock him, nuzzle him and change his diapers, as long as it was behind the walls of their quarters. Outside, he played quite another role, and Hermione knew, no one would believe her. Except Minerva.

Xxxx

Stretching after a few hours of sleep, woken by the soft cries of her infant mewling for milk, she tried to gather her fuzzy thoughts, as she pulled down her top to let her baby nurse again. Smiling down at the baby, relishing the small, suckling noises he made, the sweet smell of a newborn, she felt her eyes almost brim over with the all-encompassing love she felt for him. Her baby. Severus' son. She'd do anything to keep him safe.

Still, it felt odd, not being in the centre of action anymore. She was safe, confined in her comfortable tower room, like there was a glass wall between her and the world, her only occupation being caring for her beloved babe.

Surrounded by thousands of books and scrolls, the circular tower rooms sometimes felt like a stone cage to keep her trapped. There was no one to talk to, excepting Severus and Minerva, the latter only in those clandestine, midnight meetings. Apart from them, there were only the House-elves to keep her company. Everyone she cared about, thought her a traitor of the worst sort.

Harry and Ron was out there, trying to win a war they were in no condition to understand fully by themselves, and her husband was every day relaying on his keen intelligence to survive in the harsh game among the Death Eaters, bringing precious nuggets of information back to her. Minerva - she had, by this point long forgone addressing McGonagall as Professor - told the boys everything they needed to know, giving them information, advice and resources.

For herself, she nursed, slept, read, ate, and there was precious little else going on in her life. All she did, was sitting around waiting for others to take action. Aside from taking care of John, she did nothing, and a nagging sense of unease, of being useless was growing on her.

Now, six weeks after the birth, she tried to participate in the research for Horcruxes as well, though she felt distracted, her thought processes slow and sluggish. Minerva, Severus and herself knew that they should be looking for something belonging to the founders, and she had pondered the question, turning it up and down into her head.

"Severus," she said softly, not to disturb the baby, "maybe we could ask the ghosts if they know anything?"

"The ghosts?" he said doubtfully. "I don't think the Fat Friar or Nearly Headless Nick know anything at all. Maybe the Bloody Baron or the Grey Lady would have more information."

The faint, smoky smell rising from the glass of golden Firewhisky he was swilling in his hands left her almost gagging, like it was poisonous. Taking a deep breath, hiding her nose in her robe, she tried to calm her stomach. During pregnancy, her sense of smell had become much too sensitive, and now, after giving birth, she still reacted to some scents. Severus was pacing the rotund chamber, maneuvering deftly between the sofa, the table, the chairs and Johns crib, that deep crease of worry between his brows prominent on his face.

Forcing down her bile, trying to close her nostrils to the smell of the Firewhisky, she asked: "Who are they, exactly? And why are they connected to their Houses?"

"Let me check," Severus murmured, going over to a bookshelf, to pick up an enormous scroll. "This is the 'Hogwarts: A History' in its original form", he said, throwing her an amused glance. "Unfortunately, it's spelled to only show it's secrets to the Headmaster."

She stared greedily at it, almost drinking in the sight of the yellowed parchment. In fact, it was obviously enchanted, being of an almost immense length. "Not even if I look over your shoulder?" she asked, feeling an acute want for that knowledge, just beyond her grasp.

"No," he chuckled, "you won't see a thing, love."

He put his wand to the scroll, whispering "ghosts", and the scroll obeyed, unrolling itself in a cloud of dust through until it stopped, quivering midair, and a soft, golden light shone on a section.

"Ah," her husband said, leaning forward. He frowned, and she followed his expression with a curiosity that almost felt painful. Suddenly, his arm jerked, like he was surprised.

"Did you know," he said, "the Grey Lady is actually Rowena's daughter? And, she was killed by the Bloody Baron!"

They shared a triumphant grin, knowing that if anyone would know about Rowena Ravenclaw's artifacts, it would be her own daughter.

Xxxx

In private, her old Head of House - former Head of House, that was - acted like she had become grandmother for real. No matter her stern appearance, Minerva McGonagall cuddled their son, cooed at him, and made colourful swirls and sparks rain out of her wand to entertain little John. Meanwhile, her public act of disgust and disdain was unparallelled, making Hermione feel uncomfortable by the hatred her husband was met with.

The tower room was nearly dark, the fire had gone out a hour or so before midnight, and a chill was seeping into the room. No one was to suspect that the Headmaster and his wife entertained guests past midnight. For anyone watching the light from their windows from the outside, it should seem like a quiet night, like the Death Eater Headmaster had gone to bed with his wife.

"You should ask the Grey Lady," Minerva said, hiding her hands inside her robe to stave off the cold, nodding at Hermione. "She should be able to bond with you."

"Bond?" Severus asked, that damnable eyebrow arching again.

"Yes," Minerva said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "You, Hermione, have been forced into a situation much like in the medieval times. An exceptionally bright young girl, forced to marry a man far beyond your years, and him siring a child almost immediately after the wedding. Helena would have been pestered to marry ever since her Hogwarts education ended, and would have seen countless of her friends submitting to arranged marriages. She would sympathize with your plight."

The silence became uncomfortable. Hermione didn't dare to meet Severus' eyes, though she felt his stare burning into her. She knew, he wondered even now, if she resented him for taking away her future by getting her pregnant.

In a way she did, she still resented the whole idea of the thrice-damned Marriage Law, resenting having to postpone her education and her career, but she certainly didn't think it Severus' fault.

Giving him a brief glance anyway, she could see his mouth was pinched shut so hard, his lips were whitening, and his eyebrows drawn down into a deep scowl. Still, given his reaction, she felt guilty for even thinking about the fact that she would never had chosen this life for herself, being stuck with a baby - even though she loved little John more than her own life - and then there was their role of playing traitor. As it seemed in the Horcrux research, her only usefulness would be her ability to bond with a ghost over her sad life. And, she knew, Severus were quite aware of how she felt about her lack of choice.

Slowly, she cleared her throat, looking straight at McGonagall. "I'll do it. Your argument seems valid." Because as long as she was useful for anything, anything to help Harry and Ron, she'd do it.

McGonagall nodded, and her sharp, beadlike eyes darted from Severus to Hermione. "I see, " the old witch said slowly. "I will take my leave for the evening." Stopping by the door, she turned around, saying: "I didn't mean to presume this was the case between you two. I was only pointing out how we'd get the Grey Lady on our side in the easiest way. Goodnight."

The door closed after Minerva, and Severus shut her out. At least, that's what it felt like. His face closed up, and he turned his back to her, pretending to browse through the bookshelf. But the tense posture, the way his hands were clenching and unclenching, told another story. He was very much aware of her, and she knew, he was part stressed, part nervous and part sad and angry.

Hermione sighed, before walking up to him. Tugging at his sleeve, she said lightly: "Hey. I don't mind."

He took a deep breath, grasping her hand, and the rumble of his voice was so low, she almost had to strain her hearing: "I do mind. I want you to have the life you wanted. I want to give you everything."

Stroking his hand, casting quick glance at the softly swinging crib, seeing her son asleep, she rubbed her face into his arm. "I know. Just … don't make this any bigger than it needs to be, right?"

Severus snorted, his face hidden behind the strands of his black, oily hair. Slowly, his other arm came up around her back, pressing her to him. For a moment they just leaned into each other, before she noticed, his touch took on a different quality, becoming searching, demanding, exploring her body. She stiffened, feeling her body react, telling her that she wasn't ready yet. But when will I be? Maybe we should try, it has been weeks since the birth.

She knew, the time for celibacy was soon up, anyway. The Marriage Law allowed a brief respite from the sexual requirement for three and a half month after giving birth. Swallowing her nerves, she forced her body to relax, to lean into him, caressing him back, letting her hands rest on the strong muscles of his chest and abdomen, moving skittishly downward.

He drew a shuddering breath, groaning: "Oh Hermione, it has been so long…"

"Yes," she mumbled, almost inaudibly, still not feeling arousal.

Rubbing her back, he snuck his hands inside her shirt, massaging her hips and back, before moving up to her breasts. When his hand squeezed her breast, embarrassingly enough, her milk started to flow, wetting her bra and nursing pads.

He chuckled, saying softly: "Maybe not so much attention on your tits for the time being, then?"

She whispered an awkward "yes," not really knowing if she was ready for attention somewhere else, either.

He rid himself of his shirt, his hands fumbling with his buttons like he was in a hurry, and she continued stroking him, seeing the sizeable bulge formed by his cock in his trousers. Palming him slowly outside his trousers, she felt him harden more, and a deep groan came from his chest.

Breathlessly, he muttered: "Divesto", removing all of their clothing, wet nursing pads and all. He pushed her down in a chair, milk still leaking down her stomach, and spread her thighs apart.

"I've missed this, your sweet cunt," he growled, and she almost winced, looking down on his cock, already leaking in anticipation. The thought of taking that big, hard cock up her abused nether parts was daunting.

His head moved in, and then he was licking her. It went on and on, and she couldn't really focus, couldn't make herself enjoy it, even though she wanted to, because the thought 'it's too early, I don't want to', kept interrupting on her resolve to go through with this.

After a while, he leaned back on his haunches, a dark, unreadable look in his eyes. "You don't want it, do you?" he said, voice a little gravelly, his chin shining from what had to be mostly his own saliva.

Closing her eyes briefly - she didn't want to disappoint him - she still knew, there was no reason to lie. He would know. Nodding, she looked at him, half fearful for his reaction.

"That's what I thought," he said, voice strained and forcedly calm. Getting up, he backed away, saying stiffly: "I'm not going to force you, I'll never force you of my own will, Hermione. I hope you know that. I'm not that kind of a monster. We'll wait. Please, don't make yourself do something that you don't want for me, I can wait." Striding into the bathroom, she heard the door slam, and the shower was turned on.

Sniffling, she gathered her clothes, starting to dress herself. She was useless. She couldn't even manage sex. She couldn't even manage mustering enough enthusiasm to make her husband want her.

Instead he got hurt, feeling guilty for their past. He had been overly worried about her consent after Beltane, at times almost ruining the mood between them. Well, at least she knew, he wanted her consent more than anything. The thing was, he didn't realize he had it, though only in her mind, as her stupid body didn't comply with what she wanted. Stupid wizard, stupid witch…

And then John woke, mewling for milk right now, his small hands waving frantically in the air.

Xxxx

Hermione fingered the diadem, wondering how, exactly, one could put a piece of one's soul inside a piece of jewellery. The diadem was beautiful, though not something anyone but Luna would opt to wear today. Though, she supposed, around the year 1000, it had been the height of fashion.

"So," McGonagall said briskly. "I have alerted the boys, and they are awaiting me within minutes. Severus, if you please, would lift the Apparition wards for me?"

"Yes," he said, for once looking excited.

It was happening, Hermione realized, feeling a keen sense of triumph, Harry was about to destroy a Horcrux.

McGonagall stood in the middle of the rotund stone floor, looking warrior-like with the great Sword of Gryffindor strapped to her back over her flapping robe. Hermione figured, she should rather have had a flowing tartan cape to complete the look, but even as she felt her mouth tug into a small smile, that feeling struck her. She wanted to go too. She wanted to see Harry and Ron, to check if her boys were ok without her. To do something real and tangible, to be in action, to do something that didn't involve her own, sweet-smelling milk and nuzzling soft baby skin.

Almost involuntarily, she gasped out: "Can I go too?"

"What?" Severus turned to her, a surprised look in her eyes, but McGonagall shook her head with a fond smile.

"No, lass, you'd better stay here, to take care of John. That's your job for the time being, girl. I know you want to see your friends, and that is certainly commendable. I'll make sure to give them your greetings, but you don't need to worry about the boys right now. Leave it to me and Severus, we'll take care of it all, while you take care of John."

"Minerva's right," Severus said fervently, "you shouldn't put yourself in danger now."

Her face fell, and inside, she felt an acute sense of disappointment and dismay. Didn't they think she could handle it? In their opinion, wasn't she - the brightest witch of her age - able to lure past a couple of Death Eaters standing guard on the perimeters of Grimmauld?

"Well, at least that's decided," Minerva said briskly, before Disillusioning herself. Severus completed a complex wand movement, giving the old witch the opportunity to Apparate out of the castle.

"Good luck," Hermione said, putting up a brave front, though all she wanted to do was to cry, sending a falsely bright smile in McGonagall's direction, handing the invisible witch the diadem.

"Be careful," Severus added.

The old witch chuckled, the sound floating eerily through the space. "You know, I have been in dangerous situations before. I know the perimeter is full of Death Eaters, and I know they will attack as soon as they hear the crack of Apparition. Really, I've been there often enough."

With a CRACK! she was gone, and Severus shrugged. "Can't be too careful," he said, "especially when dealing with Gryffindors."

"Hey! I resent that," she said, arching her eyebrow playfully at him, a small, brittle smile on her mouth. But it hurt. What if Severus actually meant that? What if he thought she wasn't careful enough to take care of her own safely?

Restlessly, they sat down, waiting for McGonagall to return.

Hermione sighed.

She had cajoled the Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw, into talking. Like Minerva had predicted, the ghost had taken pity on Hermione, sympathizing with her plight, agreeing that the Marriage Law was barbaric. She had freely given up the information that, the diadem was back in school, in the Room of Hidden Things.

The three of them had spent a whole night combing through the room, finally discovering the diadem, hanging haphazardly on top of a small bust. Though, Hermione had to admit, her own contribution to the search had been significantly less than theirs, with her stopping to nurse her sweet, hungry little boy every now and then.

Now, she crossed her fingers for the Sword of Gryffindor would do the deed. One step closer to bring Voldemort to his end. The diary, the ring and now the diadem gone, they only had to find three more. She shuddered, not wanting to think about the last Horcrux. After Albus' death, Severus had shared that last, terrible secret with her and McGonagall. They were horrified, all of them, but it only intensified their research. Killing Voldemort and saving Harry, it had to be a way to do both!

As of yet, they hadn't told Harry. Dumbledore, both in life and as a portrait, was adamant that they shouldn't do so yet, but Hermione still felt bad about it. Harry deserved to know. In fact, she had sometimes thought, he had suspected something like this himself, being willing to lay down his life for the wizarding world. She just hoped, he wouldn't have to do it.

A resounding CRACK! made her start, and even Severus flinched visibly. But there was no need to worry, because a grinning McGonagall returned, sword in hand.

"This was pure barry!" she exclaimed, setting the sword down. "I entered, and right there, in the Entrance Hall, Harry just swung the sword and bang! Like that it was gone."

"Nothing happened?" Severus said in disbelief. "Are we sure it was an actual Horcrux?"

"Aye, it was an actual Horcrux, alright. There was a giant, swirling black mist as the sword struck, towering over us, wailing something horribly, but then it dissipated. The diadem was cracked and broken, so I'd say it's well and truly destroyed."

"Fantastic," Severus breathed, a light of hope shining in his eyes. It went straight to Hermione's heart, and she realized, she so wanted, no craved to see him happy and hopeful, relieved from the enormous stress he lived under.

"I have an idea," he said, still smiling. "Albus' speculation that the snake, Nagini, is a Horcrux, is in all likelihood true.. Still, if it's not, the would will be better off without it. I've been thinking about how we could get a Death Eater to kill it."

"A Death Eater?" Hermione said, feeling curious. "They would know this is paramount to suicide, wouldn't they?"

"Absolutely. He'll kill anyone who harms that snake. "Now," and his eyes narrowed dangerously, reminding Hermione that Severus, being a spy notwithstanding, actually was a Death Eater too, being accustomed to plot someone else's death and ruin.

Callously, he continued: "Antonin Dolohov is a brutal beast, as you both very well know. I would like to set him up, making him kill the snake. I can Imperio and Obliviate him to the point where the Dark Lord won't find a trace of me, but I would like to bring in Lucius or Narcissa to feed the snake a potion to make it more aggressive. Then, it would seem that Dolohov had reason to attack, if Nagini attacks first. Even the Dark Lord would fall for that, not investigating the attack too closely."

"Bring in the Malfoys?" McGonagall said dubiously, and Hermione shuddered, remembering how she had tortured Lucius on Beltane.

The film played out in her head, like it had done so many times before:

The curse thundered through her, her veins vibrant with power, like she could see the red blood in her veins thrumming with her magic. Her heart rate quickened, her breath became heavy, little pants escaping her mouth as she struggled to get enough air, and her vision dimmed as sparks of darkness climbed from the edges to the centre. Hold it, hold it, hold it, she chanted to herself, struggling to keep it all contained.

"Yes, that's it," the voice hissed in her ear, a long, thin, tall body pushing into her back, as Voldemort raised her arm effortlessly, commanding her: "Point your wand. Say the words. Turn the power into their pain, and then - turn the pain into your power, little witch."

Hermione gasped, trying to focus amidst the power rushing in her ears, the heavy, most unwelcome arousal throbbing in her body. "Yes, I will."

"Lovely, my sweet. Now, release!"

It was a relief like no other, like the summit of a thousand orgasms, as she released her pent-up build of magic. "Crucio," she half shouted, pointing her wand at the victim the Dark Lord had set for her.

Forcing herself out of that horrid nightmare, her own shame for being turned on by torturing, though Severus had explained that close to everyone experienced arousal by casting the Cruciatus, she swallowed down the bile threatening to spill over into her mouth, focusing her concentration on what was happening here, right now.

"Narcissa and Lucius are wrecks by now," Severus said softly. "They are broken, and they are no longer supporters of the Dark Lord. They just don't know what to do with themselves. I believe they can be subverted, and they have the opportunity to spike the snake's food."

Hermione blinked. The Malfoys turning spy on Voldemort? It made some kind of sense, and Draco had been acting civilly, even after she tortured his father. Maybe even more, knowing that she was forced into it too.

McGonagall sighed. "I can't say I like this, but you know them better, I suppose. Severus, I trust that your Legilimency is good enough to detect any troubles with the Malfoys."

Her husband gave them a wry smile. "If not for their wish to get rid of the Dark Lord, they would jump at the opportunity to get rid of the snake. It's feeding off their precious peacocks every now and then. If you can't trust the Malfoys' morality, at least you can trust their vanity."

Xxxx

In passing, Draco Malfoy nodded at her, respectfully. She gave him a jerky nod in return, her face burning at the thought how she had wronged his family. Mindlessly torturing his father, having a public orgasm herself while his mother suffered oral rape a few metres beside her. And Draco watching the whole thing.

"Madam Snape," he said diffidently, falling into steps beside her.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged, wanting nothing more than getting away from the dratted Malfoy heir. To be reminded of her own cruelty and debasement… Well, it certainly wasn't Draco's fault.

"Would you please tell the Headmaster that my mother and my father send their respect, and they accept his invitation?" Malfoy spoke so quietly, he barely moved his lips.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she at first didn't quite grasp his message. Invitation? Whenever had Severus invited the Malfoys over, and not telling her…? And then it hit her. This was momentous. Draco had just told her the Malfoys had changed their allegiance.

Staying in her role, by now well-versed in pretend impassiveness, she answered haughtily: "About time. We'll so look forward to seeing your lovely parents at our functions."

At that, Draco looked incredulously at her, but then the corners of his eyes crinkled, and she could see him fight down the rare urge to laugh.

Xxxx

"Mmm," she sighed. Reclining on the sofa, she felt pampered, plain and simple. John was asleep in his crib, one, small fist curled underneath his chin, his breathing soft and with the disconcerting irregularity of infants. In her hand, she had a steaming cup of tea, brewed my a master. At her feet, she had Severus, massaging her legs, warm, big hands pressing down on tense muscles she didn't even know she had. It was bliss. True, domestic bliss, fit for a dark night late in November, and for a moment, she couldn't bring herself to care about Voldemort and Harry Potter and the end of the world.

And then reality set in, as Severus let her go with a hiss, clutching his left arm.

"Sorry, love," he said, grimacing through the burning from his Mark.

"I know, be careful," she said, and the leaden weight of fear, anguish and her own failure to do something meaningful to win the war settled in again.


A/N: The question I asked myself before starting this chapter, was how to keep the awkwardness rolling. After all, Hermione and Severus are, at this point, in a reasonably happy relationship. That's why I had to create a situation, that would make her feel out of sorts. I think the feeling of NOT being in action, would make Hermione feel bad, like a failure. Hence, this chapter. Please, tell me what you think!