Prologue
Hermione sat in the back of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, vaguely listening to Snape lecture (incorrectly) about the use of Beheading Charms to enslave Muggles. She might've raised her hand and corrected him, or even jumped up and spoke without permission considering how badly he was butchering the subject, but Hermione was too preoccupied.
As she listened, her hand drifted up of its own accord to fiddle with the leather around her neck. Merely an inch wide and pitch black, she still couldn't quite believe that she was wearing it. Her Master had only asked her to wear it...it hadn't been an order, just a request. But Hermione was too much in love to do anything other than what he wanted, and it wasn't like it was a great inconvenience. So she wore it, and she ignored the surprised looks from other students. After all, Hermione Granger wasn't exactly the kind of student that people expected to be wearing a collar.
"Now can anyone tell me the anti-curse to the Beheading Charm?" Snape's drawl broke Hermione out of her reverie, and her hand shot up.
"Anyone?"
Hermione's hand waggled in the air, and she ignored the soft sniggers from two seats down, where a certain red-headed blockhead was trying unsuccessfully to keep from laughing.
Snape sighed. "Very well, Ms. Granger, what is the anti-curse?"
Hermione stood up and cleared her throat. "Technically speaking, there is no anti-curse to the Beheading Charm. One must rather find the lost head and restore it to the undead, fixing it back onto the neck. The curse will be broken and the victim will finally die."
"Correct." Snape said, not happy at all that Hermione and not someone from Slytherin had answered the question. "For homework, a 9 inch essay on the most recent usage of the Beheading Charm, as well as the advantages and disadvantages between using a Beheaded Muggle and an Inferius, to be turned in next week. Dismissed."
Glad to be away from that horrible drawl, the students all packed their materials back into their bags and made their way out of the classroom. Hermione went a little slower than usual, waiting for Harry and Ron to finish packing their things, then falling into step between them.
"Finally!" Ron said. "I thought that greasy bat would never finish!"
"Oh don't be thick, Ron, he had to finish eventually." Hermione reasoned. "I mean, even Snape wouldn't keep us past the bell."
"I don't know. I hear they still haven't found that one kid who tried to give him shampoo for Christmas..."
Harry laughed at that, and Hermione frowned. "Honestly, Ron, that's not funny! That poor first year...He was just trying to be nice!"
They headed up the stairs and came out in the Entrance Hall, where they were beset upon by Malfoy and his cronies. The three tried to high-tail it to the Grand Staircase and avoid the three, but it did them no good.
"Oi! Granger! Is it true? Let me see it!"
Hermione covered her neck hurriedly, but it was too late.
"Ha! You are! You're wearing a collar! I can't believe--GAH!"
Malfoy didn't finish his sentence. Something had grabbed him by the neck, slammed him against the far wall, and lifted him up 20 feet to the ceiling. Hermione turned to Harry, who had his wand pointed at the blonde. His eyes were ablaze with fury.
"No, Harry, please don't! He's not worth it!" Hermione hissed.
"But you are." Harry answered, his voice as cold as his eyes were hot. Harry walked forward, raising Malfoy up even higher to jam his head against the ceiling. "Listen you slimy git. What Hermione chooses to wear is her decision, and I won't tolerate you demeaning her about it. Do I make myself clear?"
Malfoy reached for his wand, but Harry increased the pressure of the spell around his neck, choking the boy until he dropped his wand to claw at Harry's curse. Only after Malfoy nodded, his lips blue, did Harry let him down. Harry coldly put his wand away and walked off, Ron and Hermione scurrying to keep up, the latter almost in tears.
--
"I won't apologize for it."
"But you were wrong!"
"That depends on your point of view."
"Hermione's right, mate. We can't use our magic to torture others."
"I wasn't torturing him, I was encouraging him to keep his mouth shut."
"Don't split hairs, Harry, you know what you were doing!"
"I was protecting your honor!"
"And you went about it the wrong way!"
The three were in the library, their books and parchment out, but none of them had written a word of Snape's essay. Rather, they were quietly whispering heatedly, their heads almost touching.
"Then what was, the right way, Hermione? Just let him humiliate you?"
"Yes! Better that than have him run off to Snape and you end up in detention again!"
Harry snorted at that. The last time Harry and Malfoy had gotten into a conflict, Snape had witnessed it and given Harry 6 weekends of detention. Malfoy, of course, had gotten nothing, but that wasn't what had gauled Hermione. What had gauled her was that Snape somehow managed to schedule the detentions for the exact days that she and Harry were to spend the day together.
"Please, Harry, next time just let him blow himself out. I mean...it's not like it hurts."
"If it didn't hurt, then why were you hiding your collar?"
Hermione didn't have an answer for that.
"Listen," she said after a moment. "I signed up for this. I knew this would happen. Malfoy takes every oppurtunity to plant a knife in my gut because he's jealous of me; this collar just makes it easier. But I wouldn't have it any other way. After all..." She pulled Harry's face to hers for a kiss. "I love you."
Harry was only a little surprised at the kiss, and only because he didn't expect her to be affectionate so soon after the argument.
"So please...just let me deal with Malfoy next time, ok? I'm glad that you defended me, Harry, but I'd rather just take his sneering and get on with my life. With our life."
Harry gazed into Hermione's eyes for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"You know, I'm still not used to being the fifth wheel over here." Ron said with an exasperated shake of the head.
"Oh Ron, you're not the fifth wheel." Hermione said as she went to her essay. "You're the third one."
--
Hermione scanned the bookshelf. She was looking for 'Salem's Past, Salem's Legacy', a history book on the occult occurences in Salem, Massachusetts in the past 2 centuries. She was absentmindedly playing with her collar again.
"You know, if you keep playing with that it's going to chafe."
Hermione jumped slightly to hear Harry's voice behind her. Harry wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her neck. His sparse beard hairs tickled.
"Nothing you give me could chafe, Master." Hermione answered softly, the book forgotten.
"Nothing?" Harry rubbed his hips against Hermione's bum; she gasped softly and moaned at the hardness she already felt. Her eyes half-closed as she enjoyed the contact.
"Nothing..."
"Can you get away tonight?"
"Mmmm...yes, Master..."
"Meet me in the Prefect's Bathroom on the Fourth Floor at midnight. Remember the extra security in place."
"I'll use the Disillusion Charm."
As suddenly as it began, Harry broke the contact, leaving Hermione damp and wanting. He walked away before Hermione could even ask for a kiss.
Hermione never did get back to her essay.