Thanks for all the review, faves and follows. I may slow down in posting as I have to write stuff that will make me money... lol

Hermione watched the green flare of flame die in the library hearth of Grimmauld Place, before she let her head fall against the cool marble of the mantle. Now she'd be playing house with him. Sharing a bed with him. Merlin save her, how was she supposed to stay detached?

She clasped her books to her chest. Her day would form around them. She had wanted to know how to move through the wizarding world. The fat book Severus had given her on etiquette and the disturbingly thin volume on The Virgin Agreement were her beginning.

"You're still a virgin, then."

Hermione held down a groan. A minute. Five. She would've welcomed some reprieve from Ron and his 'poor me, pity me' attitude. She turned and lifted her chin, aware that her upswept hair and the light through the dusty window made her ribbon shine.

Red mottled Ron's face and his mouth was twisted. He stuck his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching. He looked like a disgruntled child. "You lied."

Hermione stared at him. She'd lied? When he was the one declaiming in overly loud whispers that he'd fucked her whilst riding Buckbeak? "I said I'd chosen Professor Snape's expertise."

"This is some stunt. Something to prove you belong. Everyone will laugh, you know. A ribboned-witch is a pureblood tradition."

Her fingers itched to slap him as anger roiled in her gut. How dare he? Would punching him in the face count as initiating contact? It also probably wasn't proper etiquette to want to knee him in the balls either. "It's a wizarding tradition, Ronald. And I am a witch."

"You really want to fuck the Great Bat?" He gave her a sneer worthy of the man he derided. "Honestly?"

"Honest?" She glared at him. "Honest? Honest, would've been telling me about the danger I was in. Honest, would've been giving me a choice in how I protected myself. Did you ask your mother to speak to Professor McGonagall? Did you think if you 'got in first' I would stay with you?"

Ron blanched. Had he thought she hadn't known? And his reaction, the widening of his eyes, his sudden stillness, said that the boy she'd believed her friend had put his selfish desire before her safety.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?"

"Fuck you, Mione."

She strode past him, anger and pain thick in her flesh. "Not a chance." She paused in the open doorway, fighting down her tears. The little shit would not see her cry. "And my name is Hermione."

She stamped up the stairs to her room. He'd known. He'd asked… Bastard. Absolute bastard. Was his bragging some sort of strange way to appease his guilt? To hide the fact that he'd wanted her virginity, but since he hadn't taken it, he didn't want others to know her dangerous status? Or was it worse? Hiding from his mother that he hadn't slept with her? He was insane. His own word: mental. And she was well shot of him.

She slammed her way into her room and fell back against the closed door. Would people laugh? Point and sneer at the upstart muggle-born taking on such an ancient tradition?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she huffed out a laugh. A Severus gesture. Already. Damn Ron. Come the end of the week she would be happily –albeit very nervously— installed in Prince Albert Mansions. Her life totally separate from Ron and his interfering mother.

Hunger finally drove her from reading her books. She'd hardly had any breakfast, after all. A glance at her clock proved it was well after one. Food, she needed food. She rolled off her rumpled bed and smoothed her hands over her creased clothes.

A smile pulled at her mouth. Shopping with Severus Snape. Would he insist on full black? Would she appear in society as a mini him? Grabbing her books, she headed down to the kitchen.

Kreacher gave her his strange little smile and ushered her to sit in one of the warmer seats near the stove. The house elves seemed to be happy with her ribbon –though her book hadn't mentioned why. In fact it was bald on most facts. She made a note to herself to ask the little elf later on. When they were alone.

Because the kitchen was heaving. And silent. An almost full Weasley contingent and everyone from that morning, except Kingsley. The Burrow was still a wreck and Sirius had offered his house. The Weasley's seemed happy to take the rebuilding of their home at a slug's pace.

Too many eyes watched her as she picked her way to her seat, put her books on the table, and sat. Had Kreacher saved her this place, between Harry and Remus? A buffer against the rest of the room.

"I didn't know you were back," Harry said, reaching across for a dish of potatoes and handing it to her. "Though Kreacher is now insisting this is your seat." He grinned at her. "You're corrupting my elf."

She grinned at him and spooned potatoes onto her warm plate. "I wasn't out long."

Cutlery clanked and she looked across the table to Ron. Her former-friend glared at her. She gave him a polite –if snippy— smile and thanked Remus as he offered her a plate of sliced beef.

Tension only thickened, no one speaking. Harry was biting back a grin, the pressure only making him want to laugh. Hermione took a sip of her water. Was every meal going to be this way? She'd have a gut rotted by indigestion before the day was out. So, she decided to prick the strain.

She put down her glass. She didn't have to offer an explanation to anyone, according to her book. Her decision was her concern alone. No wizard or witch could question it, even as Ron already had. It was almost...blasphemous. But then Ron always had been a thoughtless idiot. She drew in a breath, still she had to say something. "Yes, I am a ribboned-witch. And yes, Professor Snape is my Mentoris. I asked him for this honour."

"Honour." Ron bit out the word and stabbed his fork into a cut of beef.

Hermione ignored him. "So now we can carry on as normal."

"We most certainly cannot." Sirius muttered from his seat at the head of the table.

The others shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious Percy, with his hands tense and white either side of his plate, wanted to run. At least the twins were absent. She still had their reaction to endure. Ginny gawped. Openly. Mrs Weasley wasn't looking at her, but she was breathing hard and heavy, as if she were the wronged party.

"Hermione." Sirius placed his knife and fork deliberately across his cleared plate. "You understand our concerns. It's Snape. Snape. You should have come to us, to me—"

"Sirius!" Remus' interruption was short and clipped.

Hermione reddened. Sirius had practically propositioned her. It was in her book. To suggest that she go to another man whilst she wore the ribbon was scandalous.

Sirius frowned. "I didn't mean it like that." But the flush to his face told a different story. "I meant, if you needed advice or a recommendation—"

"Merlin, Sirius, hold your tongue," Remus growled. "A ribboned-witch has made her choice."

His old friend blinked and his grey eyes fixed on Hermione's throat as if seeing what she wore for the first time. His flush deepened. He sat back in his chair and shook his head. "My apologies, Hermione. It's been so long since anyone was brave enough to show their status, I forgot myself."

She smiled. "Accepted."

Mrs Weasley huffed, even as her husband placed his hand on hers. "This is wrong." Her hard whisper carried. "To choose this. To choose him."

"As opposed to what?" Hermione wouldn't let that insult go. "No choice at all?"

"Don't take that tone with me, my girl." Mrs Weasley glared at her, but Hermione didn't back down. "You are muggle-born and new to our ways."

Hermione snorted. "I seemed to catch on to magic fairly quickly. I'm certain I would've coped with the choice."

"You even sound like him, now," Ron muttered. "What did he stick in you to do that?"

"Ron!" His father clipped him across the back of the head. His son yelped, muttered under his breath, shoved away his plate and left the table. He stamped from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Mr Weasley gave her an embarrassed smile. He turned hard eyes on his wife. "Nothing more will be said."

Mrs Weasley's mouth thinned and the dark shine of rebellion lit her eyes. Nothing more would be said then. Hermione was certain that the minute Mr Weasley was out of earshot, Mrs Weasley would have a lot to say. Instead, she followed her son. Her husband, with more murmured apologies left too. Percy saw his chance and fled.

Harry sat back in his chair. "Wow, you know how to clear a room, Hermione."

A laugh burst from her, sharp and unrestrained, a sudden release of pressure. "I do. I should be hired out at parties to relieve them of unwelcome guests."

Sirius grinned and rose from his seat. "I have a date to prepare for."

"At seven." Remus winced. "Five hours, Sirius, really?"

"I wouldn't want to disappoint." He gave a half-formal bow to Hermione, turned on his heel and was gone.

"And then there were four," Hermione said, turning back to her food. "I have an untapped skill. I do."

Ginny leant forward across the table, her eyes bright and wide, and almost vibrating with the idea of such delicious gossip. "So what were you thinking, Hermione? Really. Because, well, Snape?"

"Ginevra." Remus' low voice froze the younger witch. Her cheeks pinked and something passed between them, a command, a power that Ginny couldn't avoid or deny.

Ginny's eyes dropped and she sat back, her spine straight. "My apologies, Magister," she murmured. She looked up and held Hermione's gaze. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione wet her dried lips, too shocked for a moment to speak. Remus still held that much power over the younger witch, even though both of them were in firm relationships with other people. Remus was married… Would Severus still affect her in such a way when she…moved on?

She gave a belated smile to her friend, realising she hadn't replied. "Thanks, Ginny."

She was too aware of Harry's silence. Was he as shocked as her at the…connection between his friend and his girlfriend? It was likely that Remus had never had to reprimand Ginny before. This was a mess. A mess that could've been avoided years before. Severus was right and this confirmed their decision. She would have to leave. Even those who supported her were uncomfortable with her choice. She did wonder how she would last till Friday. At least a full day at work would have her out of the house now.

A glittering silver wolf patronus burst into the room and bounded towards Remus. It leapt up, pressing its paws onto his shoulders and its tongue licked his cheek. Tonks' voice burst from its open jaws. "Remus, come find me at the Ministry. Nothing dangerous, fatal, or in fact fun." And with that the silver wolf dissolved.

A soft smile broke across the wizard's scarred face. "If you'll excuse me. My master's voice."

As the kitchen door closed behind him, Ginny's head hit the table. She caught her fingers in her hair and scrunched them tight. "Merlin's saggy ball sack, how mortifying was that?"

"So that doesn't happen often?"

There was an edge to Harry's voice that had his girlfriend looking up. His mouth had thinned and Hermione thought she saw the hints of hurt and anger lurking in his eyes. Shit, she wished she were anywhere but this bloody house.

Ginny straightened. "It was his right, Harry. I insulted Hermione. He worked with The Agreement. Any witch or wizard who's acted in the senior role –either Magister or Mentoris— will defend it and the insulted party."

Hermione pulled in a breath. She couldn't have her decision affecting her friends. "Harry, you don't have to worry. I'll be out of here by the end of the week. I have another place to stay."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. Her words came out in a raw whisper. "You'll be living with him? That's…" Something flashed through her eyes, and Hermione wondered if it was Remus' remembered rebuke. "That's unusual."

"Could you imagine if we were both here?"

Ginny let out an unladylike snort. "Gods, there wouldn't be walls left for the duels."

Harry handed his empty plate to Kreacher. He leaned forward, his elbows on the scrubbed table and swept back his untidy her. His jaw muscles were tight. "Hermione, you're okay with all of this? You've turned you life upside down for well, for sex."

"Harry…" Ginny groaned. "You don't get how almost sacred a ribboned-witch is. The Ribbon and the Ring. They're symbols of protection, of taking our place -publicly- in society. It's ancient stuff. You can't question or mock it."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's okay. It's just us here." She stroked the band of silk at her throat. "And yes, this takes some getting to. Perhaps I'm not prepared. I can't imagine other people's reactions. And the Prophet? Skeeter will be foaming at the mouth and I don't have any sway with her now she's a registered animagus."

She sighed. "But I'm committed. And I do want this." Her gaze dropped, the memory of Severus' fingers on her throat and the fire his magic had seared through her flesh holding her. "I want it a lot."

"I'm proud of you, Hermione."

She looked up, surprised at Ginny's words when she had so obviously reared away from the idea only minutes before.

"I know. I Snape-freaked." Ginny grinned and Harry snorted. "But you stepping up like this, it's an absolute sign that bastard-snake-face is gone. For good." She wiggled in her chair. "I could kiss you, but then Snape might get the wrong idea and hex me to death."

Hermione let out a relieved breath. "Hopefully everything settles soon."

Kreacher took away her plate and replaced it with a bowl of sticky toffee pudding. He smiled again and Hermione thanked him. Picking up her spoon, she found Harry frowning at her.

"You've completely bespelled him. I don't have pudding."

"Miss is special," Kreacher muttered, pushing a similar bowl in front of Harry. "Now you have pudding."

Hermione snickered, pressing her hand to her mouth as Harry's face flared red at Kreacher's censure. She lost it when Ginny spluttered a laugh, until they were all caught in it.

She wiped the forming tears from her eyes and turned her attention to her dessert. It would be fine. It would all be fine. As long as she didn't do something stupid… The thought of what that idiot thing could be burned at the back of her thoughts. She kept it there. Severus was a legilimens and her skill at occulumency was weak at best. She would not think it. She would never think it.

Scraping her bowl clean and complimenting Kreacher on his excellent dessert –at which he beamed— Hermione stood and collected her books. "I'm still trawling through the etiquette book. The minutiae of it is brain-curdling."

"And that's a lot of curdling."

Hermione whacked Harry on the shoulder with said book and he grunted. "I will see you at dinner. Hopefully it will be less…tense."

"Fingers crossed," Ginny muttered.

Hermione left them in the kitchen and took to the stairs. Reading in the silence of her room –even if she had to work out on her fingers who sat where when there was an odd number of purebloods and a distant Malfoy relation at the dinner party— would be relaxing.

She pushed open the door and stepped into the room, her mind already on her book, before it registered that someone had disturbed her wards. Her door slammed behind her and she span around, her heart catching.

Ron pressed his back against the door, blocking her escape. "We need to talk."

The Kreacher/Harry/pudding interaction makes me snort every time...

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