Did I mention this before, but nothing you recognise as canon HP belongs to me but to JKR :)

And thanks for all the love for this little fic :)

"What is that ring?"

Mrs Weasley's shrill voice burst out through from the kitchen and Hermione paused on the stairs. She drew in a breath, twisting her courage around her. Molly Weasley had no say in her life. Not any more. She was an adult witch. Independent and no blood relation. How Hermione chose to live her life and her decision about who had a place in it, was entirely up to her.

She glanced at herself in the hall mirror. She'd swept her hair up, hoping to look more mature, and with it, the ribbon at her throat gleamed. She stopped herself from touching it again. It was a strange little thing, not growing wet in the shower, nor soapy…almost as if it existed in some other place. She smirked at herself. Magic could be so useful.

She'd transfigured what clothes she had into something more suitable, something that she hoped matched Snape's sartorial elegance. And produced a deep blue sweater and matching pencil skirt, tights and knee high boots. Her coat was velvet, winter-heavy and warm. She buttoned it up as she headed for the kitchen.

"I said, Severus Snape, what is that ring?"

Mrs Weasley stood before the stove with her hands on her hips, glaring at Snape. He was leaning against the wall, hands clasped loosely before him, his new ring gleaming in the candlelight.

Others sat around the long table, still the worst for wear, only blearily looking up at Snape. Most were wincing at Mrs Weasley's piercing voice. Remus was frowning though. Ron had his head down and was ploughing his way through a full English. Sirius hung onto his mug of coffee as if it were a bucking hippogriff, his face grey and his eyes blood shot. Mr Weasley and Kingsley simply seemed dazed. Hermione hadn't seen a sorrier group. Usually Snape handed out his prized Hangover potion. Today it was noticeably absent.

"Hermione, there you are. Shall we go?"

Remus looked up and his gaze fixed on her neck. His chair scraped back and beside him Sirius winced. He stared back at Snape. "Mentoris?"

Snape replied with one of his elegant shrugs.

Mr Weasley blinked. "Hermione's wearing a ribbon."

She ignored them as Snape did. "I'm ready, Severus."

He presented her with one of his wry smiles, his eyes almost wicked. Her pulse jumped. So rakish…and with that look? She hoped to make it out of the kitchen before she tried to jump him.

"Severus, you can't—" Remus began.

"The thing you should be objecting to, is why. Why did Miss Granger reach the age she has still untouched?" His obsidian gaze cut to Mrs Weasley. "I'm sure Molly can explain."

Remus turned away to stare at the suddenly silent Molly, and Snape took that as his exit. He urged Hermione out of the kitchen and along the hall, stepping in front of her to open the door. Cold air rippled in from the square and she shivered. Shouts broke out in the kitchen and Snape smirked.

"We'll leave the Gryffindors to their fun."

"I'm a Gryffindor."

His expression was one of mocking sadness. "I know. I'm so sorry."

Hermione growled at him and tottered down the stone steps to the pavement, Snape in her wake.

He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, his gaze fixed on her. She fought to breathe evenly. "You look lovely today, Miss Granger," he murmured, his breath stirring her skin.

Heat burned in her face and her words dried.

"Your response should be 'Thank you'."

Tight pain filled her belly. It was a lesson, not a compliment. She willed a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Thank you."

He released her hand, glanced around the empty square, and drew her to him, his arms wrapping around her. "Relax, Hermione." He murmured the words against her temple, and the power of his voice chased away her bitter embarrassment. "You trust me in a side-along apparition, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." His scent, parchment and herbs, followed her into the hated crushing pressure and wild heartbeats later they stood in the shadows of a knot of trees. To the left, Hermione spied the gaudy and gothic Albert Memorial and ahead through the twists of branches was the Albert Hall itself.

"Those mansion blocks," Snape said, nodding towards the red brick sweep of buildings to the left of the concert hall. He eased back from her and took her hand, his strong, warm fingers closing around hers. "Come."

She walked with him across the busy road and he absently cast a notice-me-not and silencing charms over them both as they padded up the steps to the dark wood double doors leading into the long block. Still, Hermione held her breath as they drew close to the porter's desk. The uniformed man didn't look up from his paper.

"The stairs. The lift is too noticeable." Snape murmured. "Once we reset the wards, if we have to appear in the public areas, we won't be questioned."

Hermione was thankful that years of stair-climbing at school had strengthened her leg muscles and she took the six flights with ease. Snape opened the door onto a curved corridor, reclasped her hand and set off, Hermione almost trotting to keep up with his long strides.

"62 Prince Albert Mansions is unplottable. One of Albus' lesser known safe houses."

They rounded the curve and stopped before a blank wall. Snape drew his ebony wand from his sleeve and with his other hand still tightly holding hers, murmured spells against the wards. With an aching groan, a wide, black door appeared, matching the ones they'd passed on the corridor.

Snape let out a slow breath. "The wards will recognise us both now." And he stepped forward, taking her with him, the ripple of warm magic flowing over her. With a tap of his wand, the door opened.

A little house-elf bobbed, his ears flicking. His luminous eyes gleamed with happiness. "I'm Gret, and I'm here from The Headmistress. To clean. Prepare." His bright gaze moved over her ribbon and Snape's ring and he clapped his large, spindly hands. "So happy to serve here. So honoured. Welcome Once-Headmaster, Miss Granger."

"Master Snape will do," he muttered, shooing the elf before him down the wide hallway.

Hermione stared. Cream walls stretched away, bare of portraits, but filled with light from two long, magical windows that looked out onto Kensington Gardens. The hints of polish and lemon teased the air. Breathing it in, Hermione's tensions eased somewhat. Why hadn't Dumbledore used this flat rather than the doxie-infested miserable hole that was Grimmauld Place?

Snape glanced back at her. "Minerva said there's only six bedrooms here. And that's pushing the expanding magic to its edge. The Mutt's dump is almost limitless."

"Reading my mind?"

His smile was sharp. "Would I do that?"

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

Snape stopped in a widened area before staircase that led down to another floor. He took her hands and drew her to him. The glow from an ornate chandelier spilled light over him and dropped gold into his eyes. "You must be honest with me. Completely honest." His voice was liquid sin, pouring into her. "If I am to teach you." His lips brushed her ear and a delicious shiver ran the length of her body. "To draw every pleasure from your flesh, then I must know your every thought, your every desire."

How did he simply switch it on? Her eyes closed and she let the myriad sensations of his touch, his scent, his voice roll through her. Delicious and decadent. She kissed his throat without thought, nuzzling under his chin. "Ask," she murmured.

Severus breathed in the scent of her hair, jasmine mixed with the dark vanilla of her skin. Did she have to be…affectionate? Fuck-it-all, someone should've had her years ago. Then he could have her now, without thought or conscience. No, this was fate pissing on him. He was the one who had to guide the girl and let other men reap the reward of his efforts.

He forced a smile against her skin, even though he wanted nothing more that to drag her into the nearest bedroom, vanish her clothes and take her in every way he knew. But that wasn't the role of the Mentoris –his smile became real— not yet, anyway. Soon, though.

"Go, explore this place and tell me what you think."

She drew back from him and there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes. Was the girl who thought so little of sex finally awakening to it? She also had her Gryffindor forwardness. He looked forward to exploiting that.

She tottered off down the long corridor and Severus shrugged out of his coat. Gret appeared beside him with a sharp crack, offering to take it. "Tea please, in the main reception room."

"Yes, Master Snape." With a pop the beaming elf vanished.

Severus ran his finger around the collar of his shirt, not used to how low it sat on his neck. He had a busy day ahead. Registering The Agreement at the Ministry –which would no doubt cause a flurry of excitement— and with it known, the owls would flood in. A ribboned-witch, after all held a very special place in their world. And at this point in time, even more so.

His time would be spent planning. And Merlin preserve him, tomorrow he would have to go shopping. He could at least make this flat his base and avoid the nightmare Grimmauld Place would become.

He pushed open the wide door and stepped into the bright, high-ceilinged room with its long series of windows, all of them magical. They showed the winter-greenery of Kensington Gardens, not the true view, which was simply a mirror of another mansion block.

He sank into the deep cushions of a long couch and crossed his legs. He didn't doubt that the Granger girl –contrary to the usual arrangement— would be sharing the flat with him by the end of the week. Molly, her shite of a son and the Mutt would make their views all too clear.

Gret reappeared with a tea service and set it on the low table before him. "Is Master Snape requiring anything else?"

"No, thank you."

The little elf grinned at him, bowed and vanished. That would only get worse too. The pleasure of others at the roles they'd adopted. It had been at least thirty years since anyone felt safe enough to display the ribbon and ring. Who they were would also be a factor. Recognised war heroes. He winced at the idea. The whole this was a fucking perfect storm.

"This place is beautiful." Granger burst into the room, her smile wide. "There's so much light in every room."

"Tea, Miss Granger."

She paused, her fingers half way to pulling one of the books from the run of bookshelves that stretched around the walls. "Yes, please."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. She didn't even have the basics in wizarding etiquette. He was going to roast Minerva for this. Yes, there should be allowances made for her being muggle-born, but the girl also had to survive a century –or more— in the wizarding world. He had always loathed the lack of effort made to integrate those not born into their society. Teaching them manners, the ways of wizards, protected them from insult and injury.

"First lesson," he said, his voice taking on the strict edge of the classroom. "I am your Mentoris. Your teacher, as it were. You defer to me."

A blush stained her cheeks. "I should pour the tea."

He nodded. "Milk, no sugar." He smirked. "Milk in first."

She gave a mock shudder. "Milk in after. So completely wrong."

He sighed. "You can't be this flippant when we're in company. Wizards are slow to change." She lifted her eyebrow in an uncanny echo of his own gesture and he fought not to smile. "Manners are still somewhere deep in the nineteenth century."

"Provide me with books, Severus." She frowned and paused in passing him the delicate teacup and saucer. Her blush deepened. "Should I use your first name?"

He took the cup from her. "The occasional 'sir' would be a pleasant change."

She poured her own tea and sat on one of the formal chairs, her posture perfect. She gave him a short smile. "I'm certain to gain an Outstanding in Casual Sarcasm. Sir."

His gaze narrowed, but he didn't check her. There would be enough formality in their conduct. To have that stretch into their private time would grate on his nerves. And add a reminder that she wasn't his equal, not in experience.

"Does this place suit?"

She grinned at him. "It's wonderful. There's a huge library on the other side of the hallway. You might not see me for days."

"Normally, we wouldn't share a living space. As with a Magister, a neutral place is chosen." Severus caught the brief flare of disappointment. For some strange reason the little chit wanted to spend time with him. He had to wonder what fantasy she was building in her head. He looked away. No doubt he would disappoint. He always did. "But…" He focused on her again and there was that little happy spark. Yes, the girl was addled. "Given that I am, in effect, homeless and you are trapped in Grimmauld Place and that this flat is quite adequate for two people…"

"We'd live here. Together." Her blush was back. "Is that allowed?"

"It would be preferable, I'm sure, to living in the Mutt's pestilential dump."

Her mouth turned down at the corners to deny a smile. "With Mrs Weasley still in residence. And Sirius and Remus." She pulled a face. "And Ron." She tilted her head. "Would it be best to put on a show of staying…then escape, say, Friday?"

She thought like him. It still surprised him how quick she was. Though it shouldn't. He'd been denying her fierce intelligence for years. "Precisely."

She beamed at him, in a manner that would've made Gret proud. Did she crave approval from the one professor who hadn't fallen over himself to praise her?

"When you've finished, we can floo back to Grimmauld Place. I will have to leave you, as I must set up your itinerary. I will collect you tomorrow at nine in the morning. We must shop."

Her joy shrivelled. "Shop?"

"Clothes and accessories, Miss Granger. A necessary evil." He paused. Now that she had approved of the flat, he had one more piece of information to impart. He debated leaving it until the next night…but that was hardly fair. He was meant to breaking her in. Fuck.

He held down a wince. "As per custom, now that we have agreed to this meeting place, we must share a bed. I suggest tomorrow night, as I can then escort you to your new department in the Ministry."

She blinked, and the slight tremor of her fingers rattled her saucer…but her eyes, her eyes were dark. It wasn't fear. It was nerves and desire.

"Are you willing, Hermione?"

Oh he knew he was a bastard with that question. Knew it. But couldn't help himself. Not when her soft mouth parted and her pulse flickered at her throat. Even her ribbon glowed.

She licked her dried lips and Severus dick stirred. "Yes. Yes, sir."

The girl was pretty, oh-so-willing and mirrored his thoughts and dislikes. His cooling tea tasted foul in his mouth and his gut cramped. He was walking into trouble. The next three months would be hell.

Let me know what you think! :)