A/N: I only have about five weeks or so left before I have to do my oral qualifying exam and presentation for PhD candidacy, so I really shouldn't be working on fanfiction...but procrastination is a horrible thing. At least you all get to benefit from it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Follow me on Twitter (georgesgurl117), if you'd like, for updates on story progress...

Chapter 18: Unfair Practices

"Severus Snape, you mingin' dobb—er, good morning, Hermione." Minerva flushed briefly and cleared her throat. "I didn't see you there, dear."

Severus snorted as he turned sideways to allow his wife to precede him up the staircase to the ground floor. "And a pleasant morning to you, Minerva."

Bemused, Hermione quietly greeted her Head of House. At the feel of a hand on her shoulder blade, however, she glanced back to her smirking husband.

"Madam Snape has indicated a preference for dining at the Head Table today," he stated upon leaving the staircase.

Frustration flickered upon the Deputy Head's face before she inhaled slowly. "Oh? Is that so?"

Though she had said nothing of the sort and had, in fact, been planning to eat with her friends, Hermione forced a smile on her face. "If it isn't any trouble…"

"Of course not. No trouble at all," McGonagall replied. Falling into step behind the couple, she leaned closer to Snape and murmured, "I shall still require a word with you."

"Oh?" he intoned. "Regarding what, may I ask?"

"Don't play the innocent with me, young man. You know perfectly well why I need to speak to you."

"Very well, then," the wizard sighed. "Should it be convenient for you, I do believe I have some time open in my schedule around three o'clock… on Thursday. I'd be happy to pencil you in."

Huffing loudly, the elder witch pushed past him and disappeared through the staff entrance to the Great Hall.

"I'll take that as a no," Severus muttered.

Uncertain as to whether she should laugh or frown, Hermione crossed her arms. "You're using me as a shield to hide from Professor McGonagall."

"Perhaps," he shrugged. "Seeing as you helped contribute to the situation, shouldn't you also take part in its consequences?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it. "I suppose that's fair."

"Indeed," Snape murmured, gesturing to the doorway. "After you, Madam."

"Hold up, Granger."

Hermione scowled darkly and pulled her arm away from his hand. It was bad enough to have to deal with her arrogant chaperone and menstrual cramps at the same time; she did not need him touching her to boot. "I don't want to be late for class, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "There's at least ten minutes before Ancient Runes starts, and it's just up the stairs. Your soiled highness will be there with minutes to spare."

"I didn't ask for you to –" She bit off the rest of her hissed statement when it became apparent he was not listening to her. Instead he was gesturing toward a group of students she thought were first years. "What are you doing?"

"Peasegood, Trimble," he called, crooking his finger. "The rest of you lot toddle off to class and mind your bloody manners."

While the other students nodded and went along their way, the two boys he had singled out shared a nervous look. Grumbling beneath his breath, Draco knelt down and tugged the shorter one forward by the robes. "Merlin, do the pair of you not know how to use a mirror? Or do you require someone to teach you how to dress yourselves?"

"Sorry, sir," Peasegood and Trimble whispered in unison before glancing sheepishly up at Hermione.

Though she offered them a nervous smile, the witch watched in silent indignation as Malfoy proceeded to tighten their emerald ties, straighten their school robes, and re-tie their shoelaces. When he finished, he snapped his finger and pointed down the corridor. "Get to class."

"Yes, sir!"

"Thank you, sir!"

As the pair quickly scuttled off, Draco rose to his feet and called out, "Walk, Peasegood!"

"Sorry!" The younger boy threw back a guilty grin, but slowed his pace and waited for his friend.

"Idiot children," Malfoy whispered, adjusting his bag and moving toward the staircase.

Distracted by the interaction, Hermione did not notice immediately and had to catch up with him. Clearing her throat, she gestured back down the staircase. "What was that about? Do you often yell at first years? And you make them call you 'sir'? Just because you're a prefect - "

"What?" he snapped, pausing outside of the Ancient Runes classroom. "Those two could have cost us five points apiece."

She shook her head. "I highly doubt that."

"Oh, well, if you doubt it, then I must be mistaken," the pureblood sneered before pointing at a chair. "Last time I checked, Granger, a disheveled uniform is a punishable offence. As is running in the corridors. Peasegood could have cost us ten just on his own."

"Running in the halls, I'll grant you," she retorted, ignoring his nonverbal instruction by continuing to stand. "But they could hardly be considered disheveled. Besides, they'd merely be given a warning, if anything."

Draco raised an eyebrow as he looked her up and down. "Just because they give you a pass for looking like something the giant squid coughed up doesn't mean they extend the same courtesy to the rest of us."

Dropping her jaw in outrage, Hermione spun on her heel and stomped down the aisle. Before he could catch up to her, she ducked into a seat between Terry Boot and Dean Thomas. "Fucking prat."

Terry snorted and glanced over his shoulder. "You can say that again."

"Hey, Malfoy," Dean called softly. "Bugger off, yeah?"

"Why don't you bugger off, Thomas?" the blonde snapped.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor Babbling cried, having just arrived. "Ten points from Slytherin for language! Now find a seat before I take another ten for delaying class."

With a snarl, Draco flopped into the nearest seat and shoved his bag onto the floor.

As her neighbors snickered, Hermione tossed a smug grin over her shoulder. Serves him right, the prat.

"Bugger it," Severus groaned, tossing a stack of essays onto his desk before escaping into his private quarters. After the massive point decimation of the previous two days, the students had started behaving themselves with noticeably more decorum in his class. That being said, however, the corridor gossiping and glances were still in full force.

Furthermore, the complaints from his fellow Heads of House had only increased following a second day of what they viewed 'an abuse of authority'. While he had managed to avoid their whinging the day before due to their hesitance to show anger or pettiness in front of their favorite student, it had gloriously backfired on him when Granger had refused to haul her arse out of bed in time to accompany him to breakfast. Hoping to avoid another round of tongue-lashing, he had chosen to eat lunch in his office only to have it invaded by a 'concerned' Headmaster who suggested a bit of leniency might not be amiss for the sake of inter-House unity.

All of it amounted to a massive headache that needed to be dealt with before it erupted into a full-blown migraine. Rubbing his forehead, the wizard made a beeline for his bathroom, only to be waylaid by a large cat who thought it wise to traipse about between his legs.

"Get off, you stupid beast," Snape growled, attempting to nudge the animal to the side. "If you persist to be a nuisance, I will replace the litter in your box with Fizzing Whizzbees."

With a flick of his tail, the cat sauntered away and hopped up onto the sofa. He cast a pointed look at the wizard and then settled in to clean his rump.

Rolling his eyes, Severus continued into the lavatory and ripped open the medicine cabinet. He downed one dose of headache-reliever, banished the empty vial back to his lab, and then reached for a second. Finding none, he sighed and bent down to move some of the supply from the cupboard under the sink to the cabinet above it. After noting in surprise – he had not recalled taking so many doses – that he would need to brew another batch soon, he grabbed the handful of slender vials that remained and frowned at the small, pink boxes that were taking up most of the space he would need later for storing his replenished supply.

Not even three weeks she's been here, and she's taken over the shower, the medicine cabinet, and now the cupboard. She can't possibly use all of this rubbish.

Stashing a few doses of headache-reliever in his pocket for their inevitable use later that day, he stowed the rest in the cabinet. Before closing the cupboard, though, his curiosity got the better of him and he picked up the nearest box. The nondescript pink cardboard gave no clue as to its contents, so he cracked open the lid and stared in confusion at a number of somewhat cylindrical-shaped wrappers that were decorated with poorly drawn… daisies, if he had to guess.

"What the…" He trailed off as a memory of a long-ago conversation with Lily came to mind. Something similar had once fallen out of her bag when Potter had kicked it over, thinking it had belonged to Snape. Lily had gone beet red when he handed it to her, as had he when she stumbled through an explanation as to what it was.

Instinctively, he snatched his hands away from the box, which then fell to the floor and spilled its contents all over the floor.

Muttering a string of curses under his breath, Severus crouched down to hurriedly shove everything back into the box, throw the box into the cupboard, and then slam the cupboard doors shut. As he stood up, he immediately dug out another headache-reliever and tossed it back.

"Bloody hell," he sighed, trying to forget what he had just found as he strode quickly through the sitting room. Crying was difficult enough to deal with, but that… that was something he was entirely unprepared to handle.

Pausing at the threshold to his office, he lightly thumped his head against the edge of the door and then cleared his throat. "Pippin!"

A house-elf popped into the room and bowed. "Master Snape summons Pippin?"

"Miss –Madam Snape has need of more space in the lavatory for her… personal items. If you could, procure a spare cupboard and put her things in it. There ought to be enough room for it beside the tub."

When the house-elf gleefully accepted the task and disappeared, Snape closed the door behind him and made his way back to the Potions classroom to finishing preparing for the next class session. As he walked, he silently hoped that Granger would not evolve into the living nightmare that Lucius claimed Narcissa periodically became.

"Severus."

"Merlin's sake," he sighed, looking up from his marking to see Minerva striding unbidden up to his desk. He gestured sharply with his quill. "That is called a door, madam, and I do believe the socially-accepted practice is to knock on it and await permission to enter."

"Right," she scoffed. "Because you're the expert in socially-acceptable behavior."

Snape scowled as he sat back in his chair. "If you're here sniffing after an apology or an admission of guilt, you won't be receiving one."

"Of course not. I know better than to waste my breath regarding your heavy-handed point deductions."

"Could've fooled me," he muttered, eyeing her with suspicion. "What do you want?"

McGonagall placed a piece of parchment on his desk. "I need you to sign this."

"And what might this be?" he asked before glancing down at the paper.

She straightened her posture and cleared her throat. "Hermione's permission slip for Hogsmeade visits."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you've been allowing her to travel to Hogsmeade all this time without –"

"Absolutely not!" the witch snapped. "Her parents signed one four years ago."

Severus frowned and shook his head. "Legally, she's an adult and doesn't need one."

"Aye, that was true…until two weeks ago. As her husband, you now have to give her permission." Upon seeing his dark glare, Minerva nodded and put her hand against her cheek. "I don't like it any more than you, believe me, but it is required. I'd rather not have to deal with any questions from the Ministry or Board of Governors about missing paperwork. Not in general, but especially not about the two of you. You know someone will start digging sooner or later."

Huffing in distaste, the wizard pulled the document forward and picked up his quill.

The Gryffindor Head watched him dip the nib in a black inkwell before exhaling sadly. "I didn't think Hermione needed to know about this."

"Know about what?"

McGonagall audibly startled, and Snape's head snapped up at the sound of Hermione's voice. Before either of them could voice an explanation, the young witch approached the desk and peered down at the slip of parchment. A look of disgust settled on her features as she pushed away from the desk.

"Oh, of course you would have to give me permission! Silly me, thinking I could make any sodding decisions for myself. Oh, but then, why would I even want to traipse about Hogsmeade with my friends when I could spend the day with my soul mate instead?!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as his wife disappeared behind a slamming door.

His colleague let out a soft snort and glanced at him. "We could have avoided that if you had just signed it when I first told you to."

"I don't sign anything without questioning it first," he grumbled, holding out the offending document to her.

"Normally, I would agree that would be good practice," she acknowledged. Staring down at his spiky signature, the witch took in a deep breath. "You know, she does raise a good point."

"That, as an adult witch, she ought to be more than capable of making her own decisions?" He swapped his black inkwell for the red one again and selected the next student essay. "I happen to agree."

"Well… that, too, I suppose," she mumbled.

Snape halted his arm mid-air, dribbling red ink on the parchment. Cursing, he dropped the quill back into the inkwell. "Oh, and you think I wish to spend my Saturday afternoon with a pouting, hormonal teenager? No. She can go to Hogsmeade."

"There is another option on the table, you realize."

He scowled and folded his arms to his chest. "No."

"Severus."

"No."

"Be reasonable."

"No."

"It would do you a world of good to get some fresh air," she pressed.

"Not when that fresh air is being simultaneously inhaled by the majority of the student body."

Minerva snorted quietly and rubbed her forehead. "At least think it over."

The wizard shook his head and returned to his marking. "I will not think it over, nor will I accompany her anywhere."

"You'll make her face the press on her own?"

"She seems to have quite a bit of experience doing just that."

"Severus."

"I said, 'No'."

"Well, I tried," she sighed, turning to leave. At the doorway, she glanced back at him. "About Mr. Reynold's detention…"

"Out!"

The woman huffed loudly. "It was entirely unnecessary to –"

"Fine!" he growled. "If you would prefer to supervise it, Minerva, then by all means. You, however, will have to be the one to inform Mr. Filch that he will have to find something else to do with his Friday evening."

"I'm sure he'll think of something," McGonagall smirked upon exiting his office.

Rolling his eyes, Severus continued slicing through grammatical errors for several minutes. When he finished the few left in the stack, he decided to put his quill aside and check on the status of his quarters. Upon entering the sitting room, he found his wife lying face down on the sofa with one hand atop her book bag on the floor and the other slung behind her head. Her large, ginger cat sat grooming himself in the space between her knees.

"Comfortable, are we?"

Her reply was an unintelligible moan.

"I'm sure the sofa found that absolutely fascinating," he quipped, claiming his armchair. "I, however, have absolutely no idea what you said."

Letting out a puff of air, the girl turned her head. "I said, 'I suppose so.'"

"Ah," he mumbled, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles. "Well, before you suffer apoplexy over it, I had the house-elves provide you a separate cupboard in the lavatory."

"What?" she gasped, pushing off of the sofa and dislodging her familiar. After peering into the bathroom, she frowned at him. "Why was that necessary?"

"Because when I do manage to find the time to replenish my personal stock of pain-reducers, headache-relievers, and other medicinal supplies, I will require space to store them."

"Oh." Hermione pushed a few curls out of her face and then sank back on the couch. "I may have borrowed a few of the headache potions."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Borrowed? I believe the term you are looking for, madam, is 'stolen'."

"I didn't steal… Okay, fine. I stole them." She rolled her eyes and slumped against the armrest. "So prosecute me."

"Thievery seems to be an alarming habit of yours," he stated blandly. "I suppose one might be concerned about having a sticky-fingered wife."

The witch glared at him through her unruly hair. "Sod off. I'll replace your stupid potions."

"If I wanted generic brews with generic effects, I might accept your offer," the man mused. "Given, though, that I would prefer something a bit more useful, I will have to decline."

Hermione sat up and crossed her arms. "You don't think I could follow your recipe as well as I could follow the one in the fourth-year textbook?"

"On the contrary," he retorted, "I have no doubt in your ability to follow a recipe. I do, however, doubt in your ability to adapt a recipe."

"But if you know the recipe works, and you follow it exactly, why shouldn't it be good enough?"

Severus shook his head. "Yes, well, 'good enough' and 'good' are not necessarily the same thing. Use your head, girl. Just because you measure out the same amount of ingredients each time, does that mean they are exactly the same each and every time?"

"I suppose not, no." Her hands fell into her lap. "Measurements can only be so precise, and I presume there could be differences in the growing or preparation of different batches of ingredients."

"Within the same batch, even," he added. "There is a reason I refer to potion-making as a subtle science. True mastery lies in being able to recognize sometimes near-imperceptible deviations in color, texture, viscosity, scent, or even sound, and having the skill-set to counter the effect. The solutions for such situations are rarely ever found in books. It often requires one to have a natural predisposition or feel for it. That's why most educated individuals consider it to be an art form. Many can produce potions; some can do it well; but only a select few are ever considered masters."

Hermione eyed him quietly for a long moment before adjusting her position. "Do you come up with all of these speeches off the cuff, or do you have them written down in a notebook somewhere?"

With a graceful incline of his head, he enunciated, "Sod. Off."

She leaned against the armrest and hid her smile in the crook of her elbow.

Upon hearing her soft groan a minute later, Snape frowned. "Are you alright?"

"M'fine," she mumbled.

He eyed her skeptically for a while before glancing up at the clock. "Are you nearly prepared to go up to supper, or do you have more whinging and lounging about to do first?"

Moaning, she covered her head with her other arm. "Do I have to?"

"Are you not hungry?"

"M'famished." She sighed and then dropped her arm. "I just don't want to walk all the way up there… and deal with people."

Severus gave an amused snort. "I suppose as a member of staff, I should convince you to eat with your peers-"

"Mmmmph."

"—but as a considerate husband, perhaps I might cater to your whims."

"Really?" Hermione asked, turning her head to peer at him. When he shrugged, she narrowed her eyes. "You just don't want to deal with them either."

"Is that not the point of marriage: mutual benefit?"

She smirked and closed her eyes. "Sounds better than compromise at any rate."

"Quite," he agreed. "If you tell me what you want, I'll send an order down to the kitchens."

"Hmmm… steak."

The wizard looked at her in mild surprise. "Steak?"

She nodded against her arm. "And chocolate cake."

"Any vegetables to go with your protein and sugar?"

The girl shrugged in response. "I'd probably eat them if they were on the plate."

"Right," he muttered, standing up. "I'll tell the elves to use their best judgment, then."

"Severus?" Hermione asked after hearing him place an order for two steaks, a chocolate cake, and 'whatever the hell else' they might suggest.

Dusting the Floo powder from his hands, he glanced back at her. "Yes?"

"May I steal one of your pain-reducers?"

His brow raised, and he tilted his head in mock contemplation. "I think not."

Quickly sitting up as though she had been poked, his wife fixed him with a dark glare.

"One could hardly consider it stealing if I give you permission to take it."

Her angered expression melted into one of exasperation as she slid off the couch and walked toward the bathroom. "Prat."

By Friday morning, Hermione was feeling rather isolated. It was partly of her own making, of course, since she had not been in much of a mood to talk to her friends even when she did attend meals the day prior. However, despite sharing living quarters with Snape, she had not managed more than a handful of words with him since they ate dinner together on Wednesday night. She had seen him in the Great Hall and in passing through his office, but he had not seemed to have any time to spare as he bustled from his office into his lab and vice versa. He did not reappear before she went to bed, and he had been gone by the time she woke. Truthfully, she wondered if he even slept at all.

And though she was still sandwiched between Draco and Daphne for most of her courses, neither of them had spoken to her since the argument she had had with Draco. He had been out of line to insult her, but she did recognize that she had contributed to the problem. Considering Snape's comments about Slytherin needing to keep their head down, she supposed they could have valid concerns about losing points over untidy uniforms.

"…the wand motions depicted at the top of the page."

Hermione snapped her attention back to Professor McGonagall's lecture. Pulling her closed book in front of her, she leaned closer to Draco and hissed, "What page?"

The boy grunted and looked to her in confusion.

"What page are we on?" she repeated.

"Three fifty-seven."

"Mr. Malfoy," came McGonagall's stern rebuke. "I do not appreciate students talking out of turn in my class. Ten points from Slytherin."

Wincing, Hermione glanced up from her book to see her chaperone glowering at her. She mouthed an apology, which he appeared to ignore as he returned his eyes to the book in front of him. With guilt weighing on her thoughts, she quickly threw her hand up in the air.

"Ah, Mi—Madam Snape," the professor smiled. "You'd like to demonstrate –"

"Erm, no. Sorry, I just…" She swallowed nervously and flicked her eyes back to Draco. "I just wanted to explain that it was my fault he spoke out of turn. I asked him for the page number, and he was merely answering my question."

"I see," Minerva murmured. "Well, Madam Snape, I thank you for your honesty. Would you care to demonstrate the wand motions for Capilla Colorem?"

"But, Professor, shouln't — erm, no. Sorry, I wouldn't." Hermione flushed red as she sank back in her chair and averted her eyes to the desk in front of her.

"You wouldn't? Very well, then. Does anyone else wish to volunteer?" McGonagall stammered as she swept her gaze about the classroom.

As if unaware of the two pouting classmates to her immediate left, Daphne politely raised her hand, as did Terry Boot and Susan Bones. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were called upon to come down to the front of the classroom to cast and be cast upon, respectively. Their Houses were awarded a few points for their efforts, and the rest of the class was then instructed to work in groups to practice changing each other's hair color.

As the noise level rose in the classroom, Hermione noticed Draco smirking at her. "What?"

"Did you honestly think she'd take points from her own House?"

"No." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I thought she'd give yours back."

The boy quickly bit down on his lip to keep from laughing out loud. After a moment, he wiped his face and leaned over his desk. "Merlin, did you hear that, Greengrass? She thought McGryffindor would return points!"

A tense smile was on Daphne's face. "I did manage to hear her, yes. If you don't mind, Draco, I'd rather we get back on task before you lose us even more points. And since you're such a lovely gentleman wishing to redeem himself…"

"Alright, alright. Ladies first," he sighed, sobering his expression. "But I swear on my grandmother's grave, if either of you try to make me look like a Weasley, you will whole-heartedly regret it."

"Granger!" Draco snapped, gesturing toward the throng of students vacating the Arithmancy classroom. "Look alive, would you? Some of us would like to eat before it spoils."

Sighing, Hermione slowly packed up her book bag and stood from her chair. Despite the fact that she detested the berk, it was grating on her conscience that her earlier distraction had cost Malfoy points. It bothered her even more that Professor McGonagall had excused herself from the classroom before she had a chance to speak to her about returning said points. It was unfair, and –

"Are you deaf, Granger? Or is this just a pathetic attempt to starve me?"

As she glanced up in irritation, she happened to notice Professor Vector frowning at her from the front of the classroom. A light bulb lit up in her head, and she threw her bag over her shoulder before rounding on her chaperone. "I am not deaf, you arrogant prick! So why don't you just sod off?"

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise and then hardened. He was prevented from retorting, however, by the Arithmancy professor.

"Madam Snape! Your behavior is entirely unacceptable! Fifteen points from Gryffindor –"

Hermione fought to keep from grinning, which did not go unnoticed by the wizard in front of her.

"—and detention, Monday night."

The smirk vanished from her face as she spun to face Professor Vector. "W-what…"

"Seven o'clock in this classroom. Tardiness will not be tolerated." With that, the stern woman swept out of the classroom, leaving two gaping students in her wake.

Malfoy recovered first and began to laugh. "This may be my favorite day out of the whole year. Definitely top ten."

She merely huffed in reply and stomped toward the door.

"You intentionally tried to lose points, didn't you? Why? Because McGonagall ignored your oh-so-noble protestations?"

"Shut up."

"That goes way beyond Gryffindor need for justice. Merlin, that's full blown Hufflepuff! Definitely didn't think that all the way –"

"It worked, didn't it?"

His grin was blinding when she spun to glare at him. "Yeah, right up until the point where you landed your prissy, little arse in detention."

"Would you just shut up? I refuse to listen to you the entire way to the Great Hall."

"Oh-ho-ho! No." He grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction. "We are so not going to lunch yet."

"What? I thought I was starving you," Hermione sneered, attempting to tug out of his grasp. "Let go of me, Malfoy, or I swear –"

"Lunch can wait. If you think I'm going to pass up the chance to see Uncle Sev's face when you tell him about your upcoming detention, Granger, you're dumber than Weaselface."

Snape's eyebrows noticeably rose as a heavy silence descended upon the office. His dark eyes flicked once to the grinning idiot inhabiting his godson's body before returning to rest upon his blushing bride who was staring at the floor as though she were willing it to swallow her whole.

"You… received detention," he enunciated slowly.

Hermione swallowed nervously and shifted her feet. Though her nod was nearly imperceptible, Draco's was emphatic.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before gesturing dismissively toward the door. "Draco, go to the Great Hall."

"But –"

"Out."

"Yes, sir." Disappointment flashed on the blonde's face as he dipped his head and spun on his heel.

When the office door closed again, the professor crossed his arms. "Explain."

Grimacing, Hermione determinedly stared at the edge of his desk. "I just wanted to make it even, sir-er-Severus."

"Make what even?"

"The points." She sighed deeply and rubbed her forehead. "I… I was distracted in Transfiguration, and I didn't know what page we were on. So I asked Malfoy, and when he responded, Professor McGonagall removed points from Slytherin for speaking out of turn. It was my fault, though, but when I told her, she didn't do anything about it. So… if I couldn't get the points given back, I thought I could lose an equivalent amount from Gryffindor."

"Minerva gave you detention?!"

She shook her head. "No. I didn't think of it until after Arithmancy when Malfoy was being irritating as per usual. I knew Professor Vector was listening, so I told him to sod off. She took fifteen points and gave me detention for Monday night."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Do you ever think anything through?"

Hermione scowled and folded her arms to her chest. "I did it for your stupid House, you know."

"You need to stop up that bleeding heart of yours before you end up bleeding out."

"What the hell does that mean?" she snarled. "It's a detention, not a death sentence!"

"Detentions go on your academic record –"

"Which doesn't exactly matter anymore!"

Snape shook his head in frustration. "We don't know that for sure yet."

"Yes, we do!" the witch argued. "Have you forgotten what the Board of Governors decided? Because I certainly haven't! I am no longer eligible for anything beyond a meaningless certificate of completion!"

"Meaningless?" he scoffed. "Had I known that's how you felt about your Hogwarts education, Madam, I wouldn't have wasted the energy to procure it for you!"

Hermione jerked backward as she stared at him in confusion. Suddenly, she remembered Governor Verpert asking Snape if the deliberation over her enrollment was necessary. "Procure it? But Dumbledore said –"

"Dumbledore no longer has power over the Board of Governors. He once held sway with them, but now they are firmly in the pocket of Lucius Malfoy. Don't think for one moment that he had any interest in allowing a Muggleborn witch to best his only son in any fashion."

"But…" She inhaled sharply and lowered her arms. "Why didn't they expel me then?"

"Because I called in a favor," Severus replied, poking himself in the chest. "I convinced Lucius to allow you to finish your education and with certification. I tried to get you your bloody NEWTs as well, but his generosity did not extend that far. I could not risk putting your benefit above Draco's."

As though all of the strength evaporated from her body, the young witch collapsed onto the wooden chair. "But if you did that, then why… why did Dumbledore –"

"Because he doesn't know!" her husband hissed. "And you will keep it that way. The Headmaster would not have approved of my requesting such a favor, so it is better to allow him to think that he and all of his twinkly words about how wonderful love is convinced the Board to show some measure of leniency."

"He wouldn't have approved?" she mumbled. "Why would you risk it, then?"

"Because I have known Lucius Malfoy since he was fifteen years old. He appointed me godfather to his heir, for Merlin's sake. I know how far I can push him without drawing suspicion."

Hermione carefully studied his face before dropping her gaze to her hands.

Clearing his throat, the wizard leaned against his desk. "Should the Order prove successful against the Dark Lord, Lucius will not continue to control the Board. It may be possible to appeal their decision at that time, and if that becomes a possibility, you will want your academic record to be as pure as it can possibly be."

"What?" she gasped, standing up from the chair. "You think that's actually possible?"

"I believe it's possible," he admitted. "Whether or not it's plausible remains to be seen."

Hesitantly, the girl stepped closer to him and touched her hand to his elbow. "I'm sorry. I didn't… Thank you. You didn't have to do that for me."

He raised one eyebrow as he stared down at her hand. "Do you honestly think I wanted to deal with you without any coursework to keep you occupied? I found Lucius to be quite sympathetic to my plight."

With a soft snort, Hermione ducked her head. "I don't think I'd want to deal with me if that were the case."

"Indeed." Severus drew away from her to move toward the fireplace. After placing an order for lunch, he did not return to her side, but sank into his desk chair instead. He waited until she had reclaimed her seat before clearing his throat. "While I appreciate that you were acting in the interest of Slytherin House, I do believe you need to make a better effort to think about potential consequences before you act. In my experience, impetuous decisions rarely turn out for the better."

His wife sighed as the food appeared on the desk between them. "I know… but it just… It wasn't fair, and Professor McGonagall purposely ignored me after class."

"Well, I think that ought to be the last time she does that," he smirked, pulling a sandwich closer to his side of the desk.

"Why?"

"She now knows that ignoring you has the potential to lead to intentional point loss," Snape explained. "Believe me; I look forward to enlightening her to the situation."

Spotting the Deputy Headmistress moving toward her office, Snape silently doubled his steps until he was immediately behind her. "Minerva."

"Mother of Circe!" the witch shouted, nearly dropping all of the essays she was carrying. Adjusting her hold on the pile of parchment, she turned to glare at him. "Severus! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?"

With a shrug, he tilted his head. "Constant vigilance and all that."

"Stuff it."

The wizard smirked, but made no verbal response.

"What do you want?" she sighed, opening her office door.

"I take it you haven't had a chance to check your log," he remarked as he followed her into the room.

A loud groan escaped her as she dropped the stack of student work on her desk. "Damn it, Severus. How many detentions did you dole out to my students today?"

"Today?" He screwed up his eyes as if in thought and then leaned against a chair. "As far as I can recall, just Perkins. And since he purposely sabotaged another student's potion, even you could not argue that it was unfairly bestowed."

She gave a tired nod as she sat down in her chair and pulled forward the record book for Gryffindor House. "If you only gave out one necessary detention today, I really don't understand why you appear so interested in my knowing what's in here. I have yet to forgive you for the – gods above!"

Biting back his grin, Severus interlocked his fingers. "Something interesting?"

Her eyes snapped up to his as she pointed down to the book. "You knew about this?"

"If you're referring to how my wife will be spending Monday evening, then yes… I am aware."

"But…" Minerva looked back at the book and shook her head.

"It seems your favorite student possesses even less of a sense of self-preservation than do the rest of your students." He inhaled deeply and then gestured toward the desk. "Did you think she'd just let a perceived wrong drop if you avoided her? She took it upon herself to...even things out."

"This was intentional?" She sank back in her chair and shook her head. "Merlin."

The Slytherin pushed away from the chair. "I suspect you might want to explain yourself to her, or risk falling off that giant pedestal she's put you on. You're slipping dangerously as it is."

"You are hardly the epitome of impartiality."

Snape rolled his eyes as he turned back to face her. "You may not see gossip as a potentially dangerous past time. What consequences does it have in your class after all? Wasting time that could be used for practice or missing instructions. They'd have to shut up, however, to attempt to transfigure anything."

"That—"

"Now, compare that to my classroom. Knives, open flames, boiling substances, potentially poisonous materials… Distractions in my classroom result in visits to the infirmary – if they're lucky. I gave plenty of warnings; they went unheeded. Do excuse me for having no wish to fill out incident reports for students who blew themselves up while whispering about my wand dimensions."

Wincing, Minerva fixed her eyes on the edge of her desk. "As much as I hate to admit it, you are correct. I apologize for my behavior this week. I should have… well, I suppose you want me to retract Mr. Malfoy's point loss."

The wizard snorted. "Hardly. It isn't as though I've never taken points for such a thing."

"So I've stooped to your level, then," she muttered. "Fantastic."