I apologize for the long period of time between updates. Unfortunately, my favorite uncle, my least favorite uncle, and my ex-husband's sister-in-law all passed away rather rapidly, which necessitated time away to take care of priorities, such as my children, will readings, and travel. On the positive side of things, I started a new job! I'm now working for an international company based in Germany and the pay is outrageous compared to my experience! It's been a hell of a March.

Fan Cast:

Hermione Granger: Emma Watson

Antonin Dolohov: Simon Lorinser

Thorfinn Rowle: Kevin Creekman (I mean, holy fudge crackers! Have you seen his TikToks? I would GLADLY simp for him…. That MoFo is so fuh-yyyiiiiiine I wanna duh-ie!)

Draco Malfoy: Will Higginson

Harry Potter: Timothée Chalamet

Severus Snape: Alan Rickman

Ginny Weasley: Daria Sidorchuk

Pansy Parkinson: Kat Dennings

Chapter Seven:

Severus Snape was a man of few words. The few who knew of his hatred of a certain quartet of his former classmates could tell by the set of his lips and the dark glimmer in his eye that Stunning one of the only remnants of the Marauders gave him a visceral satisfaction. Watching the arrogant dunderhead collapse to the floor of the lounge had been….

Disappointing, yet satisfying.

Severus finally had to admit that Potter was not his father or Black. He would have never been able to so readily catch the elder Potter or Black off-guard. There had been too much hatred between the three of them. None of them would have relaxed enough to not have a wand at the ready, a curse at the tip of the tongue, even in the presence of a true Lady. Regardless of her status as a cousin to all of them.

Even when residing in Spinners End, Pettigrew, now over a decade removed from the schoolboy feud and an alleged ally, had not relaxed enough in Snape's presence to not be armed. The rodent (in the most literal sense) had constantly twitched in the residence, on edge and looking around for predators in the snake's den of the Death Eaters' high command. Perhaps his experiences with Miss Granger's beast of a Kneazle hybrid had taught Pettigrew to be more aware of himself and his surroundings?

Narcissa watched as Potter lay sprawled on the floor, her brain visibly working in a way that Severus had always admired. Her's was a quiet genius, seeking neither praise nor recognition, always working for the betterment of her family- be that the Malfoys since her marriage, or the Blacks before that. She was the paragon of modern Slytherin womanhood: a quiet, cunning woman.

"Lucius, darling, we need the dverger and… three? Yes, three level six cleansing draughts from you, Severus. Start with Coactum purgatio servitutis, I believe. If we are right, then Madam Weasley is living up to her Hogwarts nickname again."

Severus paused for a moment, trying to think of a nickname for the Weasley matron. The only one he could think of was so off-color that Narcissa knowing of it was off-putting. He stood there blinking as he considered asking for clarification and finally mumbled, "Perfect Puss Prewitt?" as he recalled a particularly enlightening evening with the redheaded matron not long after the end of the First War that had involved scandalous amounts of homemade libations and enhanced erotic potions.

Draco turned an interesting shade of green at the implications of the muttered question while Severus cleared his throat. Lucius' blond eyebrow vanished into his hairline as questions danced in blue eyes. Narcissa shuddered her distaste.

"No. And I hope you had yourself checked out by a Healer after that. She's easily a decade your senior and has pussed with most of her generation of the population. The thought…. Wait…. Would she… with…." Narcissa's mind was a wonder as her wand worked over Potter's prone form. "She might, but she hasn't with this young man. Lord Potter is still….eligible for magical matrimony to put it delicately."

"Potty's a virgin?" Draco chuckled.

Narcissa's wand flashed and a soft blue light engulfed Draco. "So are you, so be silent."

Severus just shook his head and went to the brewing room of the manner. He had potions to make and gods to thank that his godson had not engaged in sexual acts under the Slytherin roof. He wasn't sure he would have survived Narcissa's displeasure if Draco had been ineligible for magical matrimony and Severus had not know the who and when of the deflowering.

X-x-x-x-x-x-

A confused Hermione Granger was, in the end, an industrious Hermione Granger. Where other women would have wallowed and whinged in their mental gymnastics, Hermione breezed into the potions laboratory of Malfoy Manor like a breath of fresh air. She took a moment to see the work that Professor Snape was doing and realized that he was preparing to brew medical strength purging potions. The brunette nodded and reached for the next bottle in line to prepare the peppermint leaves in a proper julienne.

"I do not recall asking for your assistance, Miss Granger. This is not Hogwarts where I am forced to endure your hand-waving and desperate need for validation and attention to prove your superiority to us mere mortals," the professor grumbled.

"And here I thought I would help you finish early and we could go tango at a petrol station," she sniped back, offering up the most ridiculous activity she could imagine. There was a quirk to his lips as if he had plucked the image of him dancing with some dark-haired, lithe, slinky-dressed woman, her hands buried in his hair as his nose brushed across her collarbone like an oversized paintbrush directly from Hermione's mind….

And there was the scowl of a man who had eavesdropped and not liked what he had heard.

"Not to mention, Professor…. I trust you. You can tell me what makes me so special, what this change in status will mean for me. I trust in your candor and the way you have never coddled me. Instead, you have always pushed me for more. You know what I am capable of, what I expect from myself."

Professor Snape paused, his blade at an angle to the cutting board. "Miss Granger…. It sounds as if you want me to advise you."

Hermione thought about it for a moment. "Can you be my advisor? Am I permitted an advisor?" She frowned. "No, not even 'am I permitted' but why should I not have an advisor? You have, in your own way and within the constraints of vows made years before my birth, never lied to me, never betrayed me. Lord and Lady Malfoy both have their own game in this. Rowle…." The mention of the Viking wizard made Hermione blush, the remembrance of how his lips had caressed her own, the warmth of his chest against her… "Malfoy wants redemption. Dolohov…. I don't know what Antonin wants. You…. You have your redemption, though it is not deserved. You have fulfilled your vows to Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. You won the game between your two Masters, outwitting and surviving both."

"Miss Granger, if you are going to insult me-"

"Is it insulting to state fact? You did not have some great crisis of conscience in your desire to return to the Light. Your redemption comes from a place of selfishness and obsession. Your deal with the Dark Lord was not to save the Potters. It was to save Lily Evans. You did not seek to save her husband or her children. You wanted the woman to be free so you could swoop in, protect her from the Dark Forces, show her all the reasons why she should have chosen you instead of choosing love…. You wanted her forgiveness, her grief, her adoration, her body… But you never really considered her heart and her mind, did you? Did you, at any point, consider what she may have wanted in your fantasizing?"

Severus Snape stood there as Hermione finished julienning the peppermint leaves and set them aside, reaching for the ayahuasca vial. She read over the preparation notes, making a mark that the potion required twenty milliliters of the brew, carefully strained.

"I… To be quite frank, Miss Granger…. No one has ever spoken to me like that."

She shrugged softly, measuring the ayahuasca carefully. Too much would lead to serotonin syndrome and not enough would make the potion too weak and the purging would be incomplete. "Not everyone has had access to the journals of Albus Dumbledore. Regulus Black was his spy before you, driven by a desire to protect Sirius from his own rash nature. Regulus had told Dumbledore about the Horcruxes and was hunting them with the Headmaster in secret. Regulus staged a fight with Sirius in Diagon Alley some weeks before his death so Sirius would back off because Dumbledore told Regulus that Sirius was getting too close to the search and couldn'tbe trusted…. You know, the whole 'frienda with werewolves and he's an Auror' argument that tanked Tonks' career?... Well, after Regulus vanished and was killed by the Inferi in the cave…. Dumbledore used that argument to plant the idea that Sirius was glad Regulus was dead because it left him as the only potential heir to the House of Black. Ironically, everyone seemed to forget that Sirius had actively rebelled against being the heir for… well, forever." She squeezed the muslin that she had used to strain the ayahuasca and set about measuring it again to ensure it was exactly twenty milliliters. "That is what Dumbledore did. He manipulated people. He used them like paper soldiers to be crumbled up and put in the rubbish bin when they were no longer useful. He raised Harry to die. He brought you onboard with the Order of the Phoenix after Regulus Black died because he needed a spy and, while selfish and unlikely to succeed, he could both maneuver you how he wished and turn around and blame you when his schemes failed. He sowed discord between you and the rest of the Order so no one would protest how you were being used and abused by both of your Masters. Even Minerva McGonagall, a woman who helped raise you and then turned around to be your closest colleague, was not surprised by the allegations of you murdering Dumbledore."

Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. "So, yes, Severus Snape. I will ask you again to swear yourself to someone. Not a Master, for they have proven to be cruel. Give yourself to me. Make me your Mistress. Be my advisor. Help me shape the Wizarding World kicking and screaming into something of my design. All I can swear to you is that I will never lie to you. I will never lay a wand to you in cruelty. I will treat you with all of the respect you deserve for your skills as a Potions Master and a survivor…. If you are mine, it is for life. It is on your life and your magic, as you will not survive to betray me as you have rightfully done with your past Masters…." She moved towards the door, a smile on her lips and a bounce in her step. "Besides, you'd be homicidal if you tried to go back to teaching the dunderheads in compulsory education. Take some time to think about my offer and then…. Take Malfoy as an apprentice and… hmmm… I've heard good things about Branislava Trigoviste out of Beauxbatons."

It turned out that planting the seeds to a peaceful cultural revolution came extraordinarily easy. Hermione Granger would reflect back on this day, years in the future and state, proudly, that the revolution began with verbally slapping Severus Snape for being a horrible person, but a fantastic teacher.