A/N: Thanks a million to Jaya, hasapi, and Silver, who pointed me at the actual Marriage Law rules, almost all of which I seem to be breaking. Oops.

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There was a soft knock at her door, a crack of light.

Hermione blinked. "Hey, Ron."

"Hey, Hermione. Sorry to wake you up... I just came to bring you that bid." Ron slipped into her room, setting the parchment on her bureau. "Are you feeling any better?"

Hermione struggled up, rubbing at her eyes. "Yeah... or rather, I will... I just needed some sleep, I didn't sleep at all last night..."

"I'm so sorry I scared you, Hermione." Ron sat down on the edge of her bed. "I wouldn't have made you marry Snape, y'know."

"Well, you didn't have any problem letting me think that," Hermione pointed out.

Ron gulped. "I deserved that, Hermione, I'm sorry. It's just... maybe I should have told you how I felt about you, I thought you knew..."

"I didn't."

"I know that now. Look, I've been talking to Harry a bit. And he told me what you said, how you didn't think I wanted to marry you, how you thought I was just doing it to save you... and... and how the... the thing with him was, y'know, because you, uh... well... wanted your first time to be, um, of your, y'know, own free will."

"That's not quite what..."

"I'm so sorry I didn't think about that, Hermione. I should have."

"You're not required to be psychic, Ron."

"Anyway, I was thinking. Uh... I was thinking, well. If you wanted to... we could... y'know, before... and that way it'd be of your own free will and stuff, y'know..."

"Huh?"

"If you wanted to. Y'know. Before."

Hermione blinked at him. "Ron, I just woke up. Make whole sentences."

"If you wanted to, y'know. Shag. Before the Binding. And stuff."

To Hermione's horror, Ron began undoing his robe. "I figured that way, it'd be, y'know, better, of your own free will and stuff, like you told Harry..."

"Ron." Hermione's hand shot out, stopping his. "I didn't even really want to shag Harry. I just wanted to do something rebellious, that wasn't what I was being told to do..."

Ron looked hurt. "You don't want to?"

"Well, Ron... I'm still kind of sick, and you're drunk... how did you get drunk, anyway?"

"Got an owl from Fred and George. They sent... supplies."

"Figures."

"Well... I mean... we're gonna have to, in three days... wouldn't you rather do it now?"

"I... well... honestly, Ron, not really, I still feel pretty sick."

Ron sighed. "Honestly, me too. Do you mind if I stay here with you? Your bathroom's so much closer."

"You're going to be sick?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Hermione shook her head. "Of course you can stay, Ron. Just... I don't think we ought to, it wouldn't be very romantic if we puked on each other during, would it?"

Ron laughed. "I guess not. Definitely a bonding experience, though."

"Not sure if it's the right kind of bonding..."

"It'll be romantic when we do it though, Hermione, I swear. I'll get... candles, or something. Candles are romantic, right?"

"Yeah, candles are romantic."

Ron scratched his nose. "Roses, all that bit. I'll figure it out... oh, bloody hell..."

And with that, Ron leapt up and headed for her bathroom.

Hermione winced at the loud sounds of Ron vomiting, sliding over to make room for Ron on the side closest to the bathroom.

Oh, Ron... the sound of your vom hitting the basin makes my heart skip a beat... oh, Ron, I'd just looooove to 'shag before the Binding', you always know just what to say... oh Ron...

---

"Feels so weird with Ron gone," Harry said quietly, poking his eggs with his fork.

"I know."

"Maybe I could go with you sometimes, when you Portkey to see him?"

"Sure, Harry, that'd be great."

"Not all the time, of course." Harry gave her what she thought would have been a wicked grin, if there hadn't been so much... something else in his eyes. "Spent the night in your room last night, did he?"

"My lav was closer. He puked all night."

"Ouch." And now Harry's grin did look wicked. "I slept better, though."

"You might have warned me that he snored."

"It's not all the time. He's got allergies. It really only acts up when he's been playing..." Harry stopped, smiling a little. "Well, I suppose it will be all the time."

"Marvelous," Hermione drawled, popping her last bit of toast in her mouth.

"But at least everything's all settled, and you don't have to marry Snape."

"I don't... I don't know about that, Harry."

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice, not saying anything.

"Harry, I expected you to be a bit more surprised."

"She's driving Neville insane, you know."

"You noticed."

"Hard not to notice. Y'know she's quit going to her Divination class? Dropped it. She just sits in Care of Magical Creatures, staring at Neville. You should hear what Malfoy calls her."

"I'd rather not."

"No, I suspect you wouldn't. If it makes you feel any better, Hermione, Justin Finch-Fletchley told me that Dorcas was always a bit codependent. Actually he said he dated her once and she made him feel so smothered he nearly ripped off his own face to get away."

"Is that why he didn't Bid for her?"

"Yeah. He felt rotten about it, but y'know. Think he fancies Hannah Abbott, anyway."

"She said she felt 'bereft' sitting at the Hufflepuff table."

Harry swallowed a bite of eggs, his eyes on her. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm just thinking about what you said. I'm thinking about how with Snape, I'd be done by the end of the school year. I'm thinking about how in the hell would I ask Ron Weasley for a divorce, especially now that I know..."

"You know that he likes you. And you don't like him."

Hermione blinked. "How'd you know?"

"You wouldn't have kissed me if you did."

"Oh," Hermione said, then sighed. "Harry, what if I get Bound to Ron and can't bear to be at Hogwarts? What if I want to do nothing but follow him around a Quidditch pitch? What if I blow off my NEWTs because I feel 'bereft' in class? Nine months later, I'm UnBound, I'm a dropout, I've got two babies, no NEWTs, I'd be unable to get any sort of job I actually wanted, and worse, I'd care about all that again. It'd be like some lovesick Dorcas Longbottom invaded my body for nine months and made it piss away everything I'd worked for..."

"Sounds like you've already made your decision."

"No... no I haven't, really, I'm just thinking out loud. I mean... the alternative is Snape. And... he's Snape. Also... he's Snape. And besides... he's Snape."

"Those are three very good points. I mean... the man hates us."

"I don't... I don't know about that, Harry."

Harry shot her a look. "You've found something out. What is it?"

"I can't... I can't tell you right now, I need to sort things out a bit more. I'll tell you once I know better, Harry, honestly." Hermione gulped down the last of her juice. "I've got to go, I'm Monitoring for Snape again."

"But you hated it last time!"

"I know, I... I just needed to see something."

---

Hermione stood over the Pensieve, trying to focus her mind.

I need to know how Snape feels about me. I need to know how he'd treat me...

She dipped her wand and swirled...

---

She was in the dungeons... a bedroom...

Hermione's eyes adjusted to the torchlight, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings. Bookshelves ringed every wall, a large stone fireplace crackled, and there was a large, green-canopied bed...

Snape's room, maybe?

There were noises coming from behind the canopy...

Her heart thudding, Hermione walked towards the bed, stuck her face through the curtains...

And saw herself.

And Snape.

Oh, God, I found it. The picture Snape took out of his head before class...

Snape's lips were on her neck, the Other Hermione's head thrown back, panting, her fingers wound through Snape's hair, pulling him closer to her.

Hermione watched as her legs slid up Snape's, coiling around his, their robes tangling, their bodies writhing against each other.

And then...

And then Snape raised himself off of her, propping himself up on an elbow, raising his hand, letting the back of his fingers brush down her cheek, his eyes warm, a smile on his lips.

"Irritating little know-it-all," he laughed.

"Greasy, grumpy, git," The Other Hermione replied, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him back down to her.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for wearing... entirely... too much... clothing," Snape growled against her skin.

"I'm about to get those points back," The Other Hermione purred.

"Are you now?"

"Oh, indeed."

---

Hermione yanked her wand out of the Pensieve, gasping. The Other Hermione had been on the verge of doing something very, very, very naughty to Snape that The Real Hermione had only ever read about in books.

Hermione grabbed her backpack and ran out of Snape's office, pounding up the staircases.

By the time she reached her room, she was quite out of breath.

Yeah, that's the only reason you're out of breath. Keep telling yourself that, Granger.

She'd... well... she'd been sort of looking for that memory, hadn't she? And she'd found it... it just hadn't been anything like she'd expected.

She'd thought she would see herself drugged up, unwilling, Snape lording his power over her as she responded to him against her will...

She hadn't expected... laughing. Teasing. Snape to be so... well, Unsnapey. He'd caressed her cheek like... like he loved her or something, and the other her had been... well. Eager, for one thing.

Hermione, admit it, that was hot.

Fine. Fine! That was hot.

You're thinking about his voice, aren't you? That low, velvet voice, the way it got all rough when he whispered against your neck... or maybe you're thinking about how your body rose beneath his fingers, like a cat begging to be petted?

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

Hermione threw herself across her bed, willing her heart to slow down, willing her breath to quit coming out in little gasps.

Uh-oh. Looks like the little bookworm's got hormones...

She'd... well. She'd made sure she was educated about this sort of thing, of course. Her parents had given her a large book that explained things quite clearly.

But she hadn't ever kissed anyone until she'd kissed Harry. Oh, Krum had tried, but she'd always managed to ruin the moment. And even Harry hadn't felt like...

It'd been warm, and nice... like a full-contact hug. And the kissing thing had been quite all right, a little wet, yeah, but not in a bad way, really. She'd mostly been thinking, y'know, trying to make her lips be where Harry's were going, and make sure their noses didn't collide, and remember what the steps in the process were... it'd been a while since she read that book. And she'd felt some new little tingles when she realized how worked-up she'd gotten him, but...

Not like that. Not like this.

Dammit, why hadn't she stayed and watched the rest of the memory?

All right, Hermione. You've seen yourself. Recast.

Hermione tried to replace Snape's face with Ron's, imagine her and Ron all tangled like that, imagine her teasing him, imagine him dragging his fingers down her face...

That's gross.

Whaddya mean, that's gross? And it's not with Snape?

Hermione crossed to her bureau and took out the only two Marriage Bids she hadn't chucked.

I can pick Ron. I know he'll be nice to me. I know he loves me. I'd get to be a Weasley, my kids would get to grow up in that big, happy house. And I'll probably drop out of school, and Ron won't want to divorce me when the Binding's over, and Molly will hate it if I want to get a proper job, and, oh god, the things my kids will learn from Uncle Fred and Uncle George...

Or I can pick Snape, stay in school, probably blow the lid off my Potions NEWT. He wouldn't let me sog after him like Dorcas Longbottom... he's actively working on a potion to counteract the Binding...

But you know Ron. You know him. No matter what you saw in that Pensieve, Snape is a total question mark, a total mystery...

I like mysteries...

Ron is your friend. Ron will do right by you, or Harry will make him. It's safe.

But that memory...

Don't think with your hormones, Granger...

Harry's not thinking with his hormones, and Harry thinks I ought to pick Snape. I can tell.

No, Harry's thinking like someone completely obsessed with killing Lord Voldemort. He's already lost one sidekick, and he doesn't want to lose another. He wants you at his side when Voldemort comes, and you will be, if you marry Snape. You won't be, if you marry Ron. Don't kid yourself into thinking Harry's impartial...

Hermione's eyes opened wide.

You will be, if you marry Snape. You won't be, if you marry Ron.

Well. That was it, wasn't it? The beating heart of it.

"You forget, brain," Hermione said aloud. "I'm not impartial, either."

Hermione pulled Snape's parchment towards her and signed it.