Thanks for the reviews, faves and follows! I hug them, and squeeze them, and call them George... :D

Hermione broke apart her croissant and smeared butter on it. Kreacher crept up, placed a heavy mug of coffee beside her plate and she smiled her thanks. He gave her a strange little grin in reply.

Candlelight flickered, only the first smudges of dawn pushing across the cloud-thick sky. She doubted those who'd stayed in Grimmauld Place would yet make an appearance. She supposed the party had gone on into the night.

Her room had been silent, locked tight and heavily spelled, to keep out those who, no doubt, would want to have 'words'. She'd spent sleepless hours staring up at the fire-shadows dancing against the ceiling, trying to wrap her mind around everything that had burst upon her in so short a time. It all boiled down to one swirling, almost impossible fact.

Severus Snape would be her lover.

She chewed mechanically and stared at the fine grain of the kitchen table. Her lover. And whomever else he took a fancy to. My life would be my own. His words haunted her. She frowned into her coffee. She was thinking muggle. She had to think like a witch.

Severus was offering her something no one had had for too many years. He'd said, many had taken the Magister route, too afraid to expose themselves. She would have an introduction to the magical world. A proper one. Not one gleaned from books. All the facets she missed, the massive gaps Hogwarts had left in her education, the things other witches knew without thought, she would know them now.

She would know him too. It wasn't just about teaching her to fuck.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling the blush darken her face. She had to get over that. He valued experience. Not the gauche reactions of a girl. She would fake it until, well, until he taught her enough so she didn't have to…

The heat deepened in her skin and she sipped her coffee. How many more strange –almost unsettling— wizarding traditions would she uncover? At least she had one less worry, though it was a bitter one. She would never have to explain her new situation to her parents. The Order had confirmed straight after the defeat of Voldemort that her memory charms were permanent. Monica and Wendall Wilkins had a good life in Australia, happy, fulfilled, crowded with pets and people. But the reality was her parents were lost to her. Forever.

She sighed and put down her cup. The pain had lessened over the months. Still, it caught her sometimes and the sting of it burned fresh.

As the muggle world was closed to her, it was another reason to fully immerse herself in the magical one.

"Hermione?" Harry yawned and dropped down next to her. Kreacher bustled forward with tea and three, thick bacon sandwiches. "You're up early."

"I didn't stay up drinking." She smirked at him, but his gaze was on her throat. Her ribbon. Did he know what it meant? She stopped herself from touching it, though the silky feel of it against her skin reminded her of the white-hot blaze of pleasure Severus had released within her.

Harry blinked, blushed and focused on his breakfast. "Ron got falling down drunk last night." His gaze slid to her. "Flailing and muttering about you and Professor Snape. Hammered on your bedroom door. And was swearing. A lot."

Hermione winced. "In front of everyone?"

"Me, Sirius and Remus. Possibly Kingsley." A smile tugged at his mouth. "Remus cast a harsh silencing spell on him and dragged him off to his room." He polished off his first sandwich with a reckless speed that would've made Ron proud, chasing it down with a gulp of tea.

Hermione's gaze fixed on her mug and her thumb toyed with the handle. Even after years of Hogwarts' feeding, Harry still ate as if his food would be snatched from him at any minute. Because, she was certain, it once had been.

"What's going on with you and Ron, Hermione?"

She glanced at the closed kitchen door. The house sat in silence. No one was stirring. She could tell Harry anything. Everything. Still heat warmed her face. Harry was her best friend, but he was still male. "I refused –for the absolutely last time— to sleep with him."

"You broke up."

She snorted. "We've never been together."

Harry frowned. "But he's been…saying all summer that you and he…"

She knew the word he'd wanted to use. Bragging. Harry had tried to hush him, to shut him up, but Ron found himself able to wax lyrical about her charms. Charms he had never –and would never— see. "Lies." Trembling fingers touched her throat, tracing the edge of the ribbon. "Do you know what this means?"

Harry shook his head. Hermione pressed her lips together, She couldn't reveal what she knew had transpired between Remus and Ginny. She closed her eyes, embarrassment welling up in her. Harry was practically her oldest friend. She reminded herself that she could tell him anything.

"Ron has lied. I didn't sleep with him this summer. I have never slept with him." She looked up and gave him an unsure smile. "I've never slept with anyone."

Harry paled and he pressed his hand to his mouth. "Fuck." He flushed. "Sorry. But you should have said. The whole war. You went through the whole war… And you could have been…"

She patted his hand on the table and her smile deepened. "Harry. You're rambling."

"Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?"

Hermione blinked and a hollow pain filled her chest. He knew? He knew and he never said a thing?

"I thought you and Ron had slept together, somewhere in the Sixth Year." His hand caught in his hair. "If I'd known, I would've said. You could," his eyes flicked to hers and away, "you could've approached Remus—"

"Remus?"

The blush on Harry's cheeks grew to mottle his neck. He glanced back at the door and his voice dropped. "It's a wizard rite. An older wizard will teach you, about, you know, sex."

She couldn't help the smile that broke from her. Sometimes Harry –for all that he had done— was still such a boy.

"Ginny told me about it. How a witch or a wizard is…initiated. Remus was hers. Which was, I'll admit, kind of a slam to the gut when she told me."

"Where you initiated?"

His laughter was soft. "You know when I said Cho and I kissed? It was slightly more than that."

"You bad boy."

His eyes danced, but then they sobered. "You're not seeing anyone? Then you should talk to Remus. He's obviously with Tonks now, but he might be able to point you to a…Manister, I think it's called."

"Magister."

Harry frowned. "That's what the ribbon is? Ginny never said anything about being obvious. She said it had to be completely secret for the safety of her and Remus."

Hermione nodded and explained the difference she had from Ginny, of how she wouldn't be hidden, a secret, but how her status would be known. How she was moving into the world without fear. Harry listened and she could feel the question burning in him. "Ask," she murmured.

"Who put that ribbon on you?"

She drew in a breath, readying herself for his explosion. "Professor Snape."

Harry stared at her. His mouth fell open. No sounds came out, apart from a strange, strangled grunt. His mouth closed and he swallowed. "Severus Snape?"

"I doubt there could be two of him, Harry."

"Hermione…"

"I asked him. You'll probably hear all kinds of hysteria from the others, but that is the first fact."

"They know about…this." He waved his hand to her throat.

"Not about him being my Mentoris, no. They rather had the impression that we'd already had sex."

"Merlin's Balls," Harry muttered and scrubbed at his face. "I have a quiet night with Ginny, meanwhile, outside my room, the world goes insane."

"I want this, Harry." She looked to her mug, and the tightness in her chest was there again. "I want him."

"Oh gods, Hermione." There was realisation in his soft exclamation. "You know…you know this rite isn't permanent? It ends. He's not yours." He drew her to him, holding her and her throat ached, her eyes burning at his words. "He won't feel the same way."

"I know."

"I'm sorry." Harry pressed a kiss to her hair. "With any luck, you'll find you can't stand him. It is Professor Snape, after all."

Hermione laughed, some of the tension escaping her. Harry hadn't derided her, hadn't shown much shock at her preference. She couldn't explain why or when her desire had crept over her for Severus. His name in her thoughts still seemed…illicit.

Oh, there had been the morning of the Daily Prophet article and her awakening to him as a man. But that was only the capping of it. It seemed as if there'd always been something about him that drew her. His intelligence, his bravery, his wilful disregard for what the world thought of him. His hands. His eyes. And gods above, his voice.

She doubted Harry wanted her to list the glowing attributes of a once-hated professor. She shifted away from him, pulling the tangle of her hair back. "I'll have what I can."

The front door slammed and her heart jumped. Both she and Harry looked to the kitchen door. It opened to admit Severus Snape. She stared. He wore a well-tailored muggle suit that only emphasised his lean build complimented by a long, dark coat, with its collar turned up against the winter chill. His black hair was caught at the nape, a few inky stands falling across his brow. Her mouth dried and she fought hard not to gawp. This was still her surly Potions Master. She knew that. But in this moment, he looked…gorgeous.

"Good morning," he murmured. He looked beyond Harry to her. "Miss Granger, a word, if you please."

Hermione pushed herself away from the table and Harry caught and squeezed her hand in a brief gesture of support. Snape stood to one side and let her precede him into the hall. He closed the door.

Alone with him, Hermione's nerves pricked. "I've never seen you dress this way."

His lips twitched. "A necessary camouflage." He waved to the stairs. "We should make use of the library again."

Moments later, he was shutting and warding the door to the library. He flicked his wand to the cold hearth. A fire surged. Another flick and the candles in their sconces burst into life. Hermione willed her spine straight. Experience. A woman of the world. That's who he wanted. She'd fought in a war, seen horrors. She was hardly naïve…yet he made her feel so. He'd experienced so much more. Knew so much more.

"Sit."

Hermione pulled in her attention and followed him to the chair she'd occupied the night before. Her stomach twisted and she watched him as he pushed the dark length of his coat from his thighs and crossed his long legs. He was the very image of insouciance.

He turned the white-gold ring on his finger. "I visited Minerva this morning."

"How did she react?"

"She is accepting of this." He paused and set the ring straight. "So much so, that she gifted us use of the flat Albus left her in his will. Near to the Albert Hall." He waved his hand over his clothes. "Hence this…costume."

"Did she say why she never brought up the idea of a Magister with me?"

Snape's mouth thinned and a gleam of anger heated his dark eyes. "Molly Weasley convinced her not to. She said it was a nod to your muggle heritage. I believe otherwise. I believe she wanted you for her youngest son."

Hermione stared at him. Molly had put her at risk for the sake of her son. So Ron could be her first. Her stomach lurched. "Do you know…?" She pressed shaking fingers to her mouth. "Do you know if he asked his mother for this?"

Snape shook his head. "I do not." He winced. "It's a common wizarding belief that if you're a muggle's first lover, then you catch her heart. No doubt Molly has pushed this fallacy to muggle-borns."

Hermione stared at her clenched hands, her emotions a riot. She'd been kept in ignorance for the sake of a myth. Almost a myth. She herself wanted her first time to be special, to be with a man she admired. She couldn't admit to deeper feelings. Not yet. She didn't truly know him. In a way, she hoped Harry was right. That at the end of her three months she could walk away from Severus Snape with her heart intact. It didn't help that the first thing he'd done that morning was grill Minerva about why she'd not been protected.

"It may have been done with the best of intentions." The sneer to his voice said he thought anything but that. "But the choice should have been yours. Weasley or a Magister. Not what happened."

Hermione drew in a long breath, letting it fill her lungs and easing it out. "It's the past." She gave him a tight smile. "I was lucky. Assumption and rumour worked for me. And now I have you—this." She touched her throat, stroking the length of the silk ribbon, and hoped he hadn't read anything into her slip. "What else do we have to discuss?"

"We will visit Albus' flat to see if it's suitable in a short while. Today, I will put together a schedule for meetings. Yule approaches and dinners and parties increase exponentially. I will also make it known there is a ribboned-witch seeking introduction." He tilted his head. "Is this all acceptable?"

She nodded. "Next week I start at the Ministry. Monday morning. A small cog in research and archives."

"Your ribbon will bring a lot of notice to you. Are you prepared for it?"

Probably not. But she didn't admit it. She lifted her chin. "It will make liars of the Prophet and of Ron. I'm happy with that."

A wry smile pulled at his lips. "Good." The smile faded. "There are rules to this Arrangement, Hermione. Only I may touch you. And you are not to initiate any contact with a male."

Harry. Shit. She'd hugged Harry. Had she broken her chance already? "Any male? I," damn it, he hadn't explained this the night before, "I hugged Harry this morning."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Does he desire you?"

"Gods, no!" Hermione shuddered at the thought. "He's like my brother."

"If you are certain of their…regard, then it is safe. The rule is set as a blanket to protect The Agreement." He turned his ring, light glinting over the gold. "Our bond is new. In time, this will flare if someone who shouldn't touches you. Men are aware of this. I will duel any who break it." He stood. "Make yourself ready. We'll go to Kensington as soon as you are." And with a sweep of his coat he was gone from the library.

Hermione slumped back into her chair and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. "Should've said Magister. You idiot." She cursed under her breath. But now that she had the chance, she'd wanted the fantasy. To be one of those women the Prophet reported on.

One photograph stuck in her mind and left her heart in her throat, a candid shot at some Ministry event, as Snape tilted up his partner's chin, his long fingers caressing her jaw. The beautiful blonde woman had appeared mesmerised, her mouth parting, anticipating the delicate brush of his lips against her own. And it had only been that the photograph captured. Over and over.

Wizards thought that being the first to sleep with a muggle took her heart. Hermione had the horrible feeling they would be proven absolutely right.

As ever, let me know what you think!:)

And I have to get back to writing on this and Innocent Shadows...I've slacked recently. Bad me...