Whee, it's back! And a few days earlier than expected -because, I should be writing something else, natch. I have an idea about the next 10k. After that updates could slow again. As my 10yo would say...don't judge me! lol

This one's a little transitiony.

Gret dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table and with a soft little pop, vanished.

Hermione teased her fingers over the rolled paper, reluctant to see what the wizarding world was reading about her that morning. She glanced up to find Severus watching her over the rim of his cup. A blush warmed her face. "I should just read it, shouldn't I?"

"You'll be prepared, and ready to defend or deny what everyone thinks they know about you."

"You'll have me a Slytherin by Christmas."

He snorted and placed his cup in its saucer. "Those of my House are born not made."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but a smile lurked on her lips. "Is that an insult?"

"Open your paper, Hermione."

Taking a calming breath, she unrolled the paper, a flick of her wand flattening it and easing back the creases. A fist tightened in her chest. Fuck. Fuck.

The front page was plastered with the moving image of them both in Diagon Alley. It wasn't the fact that they had been caught there, it was the private moment revealed. A few seconds of which she had hardly been aware. Her arm through his, Severus' hand over hers, with the flash of his ring an effect no doubt added by the paper. He looked stern, imposing, staring off out of the photograph, whilst she, she, looked up at him as if she were a besotted mooncalf. An endless five second loop of her with a vacuously dreamy expression.

And the article itself didn't help.

The Return of the Ribbon and Ring?

Plain but ambitious girl, Hermione Granger, has every tongue wagging as she appeared on the arm of former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class, Britain's foremost Potions Master, Severus Snape.

More surprising than Miss Granger's cosying up to yet another famous wizard —it is her speciality— was the sighting of a ribbon at her throat. Can it be true? Is this really the ancient rite resurrected? Or simply a fashion accessory in very bad taste?

For more on the sacred rite of wearing the Ribbon, see page 2. For Hermione Granger's past conquests, see page 3,4 and 5.

"Oh, that absolute…cow!" Hermione's fingers clenched into fists over the paper, resisting the urge to scrunch it into a ball, to set fire to it, to track down and hex Rita Skeeter to within an inch of her life.

Severus pulled the paper free from her trembling hands. He frowned.

Hermione closed her eyes. Tears pricked and her throat was tight. Was he disgusted at the image, of her giving all the appearance of an airheaded girl in the throes of a major crush?

"She goes too far."

His voice was little more than a growl, the contained fury running a shiver through her. Her morning had had a blissful start, waking with Severus —and everything that followed. Gret helping with her hair and clothes so that she actually looked presentable. But now this. Skeeter seemed determined to make her wearing of the Ribbon a lie.

"She's never liked me." She winced and her laugh was bitter. "Plus the fact that I kept her in a jar for month. And blackmailed her."

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Taking into account Marietta Edgecombe and the ever-lovely Dolores Umbridge, I've changed my mind." His smile was sharp and she stared at him, confused. "Welcome to Slytherin, Miss Granger."

Hermione broke out in laughter. "Three offences and I'm in?"

"Indeed."

Her smile faded as she looked to the paper in his hands. "I knew she would try to sully this." She stroked her ribbon and twitched an apologetic smile as Severus' chest lifted. He was connected to her via the ribbon? Would she have the same reaction if she touched the ring he wore? She pushed down the rising questions. It wasn't the time for her to race off with tangential thoughts. "I didn't think she'd all but call me a liar. If she questions me, than she questions your role." She shook her head. "Bloody woman!"

Severus glanced at his pocket watch. "We must get you to the Ministry." He rose, as lithe and elegant as always, and Hermione fought not to stare at him. No more vacuous expressions. "You have done nothing wrong. You are a ribboned-witch." He tilted her chin up, a brief smile curving his mouth. "In the circumstances, I believe we should move your relocation forward. Grimmauld Place is not for you when there are people there who would happily play with these lies."

Her belly did that crazy little flip-flop and it was suddenly so very hard to breathe. "From tonight?"

"I will collect you from the Ministry, return with you to collect your belongings and escort you back here."

Hermione pushed back her chair and willed her courage. She pressed her lips together as words flittered through her thoughts. None of them seemed…right. So she went for simple. He'd probably rescind her offer into Slytherin… "Thank you, Severus. For this. For all of this. I've turned your life upside down—"

"For a short time only."

He turned away and Hermione pulled in a quick, steadying breath. The five words stabbed her. Was he offering some sort of strange consolation – that everything would soon blow over? Or was it an oblique comment on her expression caught forever on the front of the Prophet? Whatever way he meant it, it had hurt her. The days were already counting down to him leaving.

"Witch, not muggle. Witch not muggle. Witch…" She muttered the words to herself, over and over as she returned to her room to gather the last of her things.

Gret beamed at her, his magic holding up the velvet coat she'd transfigured. "You will look perfect today, Miss. Gret sealed your very fine magic. It will last a good while now."

"Thank you." She slipped the coat onto her shoulders, the lining smooth, the velvet collar blissfully soft against her skin. "Beautifully done, Gret."

"While you're out, I will be getting rid of that." He frowned at Madam Athcasta's book still sitting on Hermione's dressing table. "Nasty book. Gret knows better charms. As you see." He waved a long-fingered hand over her and lifted his pointy chin. "Master Snape said you will be staying every day. It would be an honour to prepare you, Miss."

Her gaze fixed on the book. She hadn't cracked it open. She had to admit, she'd been reluctant. Mainly because of the witch that had gifted it. Was it so very bad? She considered its source. Very possibly. And Gret shared her views on magical mirrors. "The honour's mine, Gret."

His grin split his flattened little face. With a snap of his fingers, the book vanished. "Thank you, Miss."

"Ready?"

Severus stood in the doorway to her bedroom. Had he witnessed the vanishing of his friend's book? There was nothing in his manner nor in his gaze that said that he had, but then this was Severus Snape. No one ever knew what he was thinking…

Hermione twitched a smile and nodded. "I'm to rise above the libellous and slanderous falsehoods that'll be made about me?"

"Of course." His smile was dark, twisted and her heart beat a little bit too fast. "You will be seen to be…exemplary."

Seen. As in not caught. She grinned at him as he waved her through to the sitting room and the vast fireplace. "Are you meant to be encouraging such things?"

He peered into the floo pot on the mantle. "Encouraging you to be an upstanding member of society? Naturally." His dark eyes sparked and Merlin save her, she wanted to kiss him again. "When I'm finished, you will be above reproach. The perfect role model for every young witch." He smirked at her, something devilishly wicked. "And from then on, Merlin protect every single wizard. Young and old."

He tossed the floo powder into the cold fireplace and called out for the Ministry atrium. A heartbeat later, he vanished in a swirl of green flame. Hermione took a breath, flung her powder and followed him into the network.

Severus' hand caught her as she stumbled, his wand making quick work of the ash that clung to her. He slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. "Ready?"

She gave him a quick smile. "Wizards beware."

"Just so."

The great open space burst with people, the floos churning out yet more into the massing throngs of workers heading to their offices. "I'm somewhere in the bowels." She dug into her bag, Severus shielding her from the pressing crowds.

He glanced over the parchment. "I know this place. Come."

Hermione's stomach cramped as they moved away from the floos. Severus was so distinctive; he couldn't be mistaken for anyone else. Where people looking at her too? Judging her? Believing the Prophet's lies?

"You are a ribboned-witch." His murmur cut through her rising panic. His hand closed around hers, warm and strong. "What anyone else thinks is beneath you."

"Beneath me," she repeated, wanting to drill it into her mind, but more than one witch had stopped now, eyes narrowed on her throat. A flicker of magic, shimmering, and murmured conversations simply vanished. She squeezed his hand. "Absolutely."

He led the way towards a bank of lifts, the crowds now parting before him. A twitch of a dark smile pulled at his mouth and Hermione had to admit, war hero or not, he still had the power to terrify. It was little surprise then that wizards and witches scurried out of the lift, and that she and Severus –plus a few hovering memos- had it to themselves as they shot off down to Archives.

All too soon, she was walking down a darkly tiled corridor, the flicker of candles adding little warmth to the chilled air. Severus was a shadow beside her, but everything about him was warm and wanted. Hermione shoved down her muggle sensibilities, her fingers curling into her palms. She was a witch. And a witch kept to The Agreement.

"Nervous?"

She let out a soft laugh. "I haven't given the job a single thought for days."

"Other things on your mind?"

His quiet, velvet-wrapped statement heated her face. "Unexpectedly, yes."

She followed Severus around a darkened corner and they stopped before heavy, double doors. Sconces cast a wavering, golden light. The word 'Archives' was written above the doors in ten languages, of which only three were human. She drew in a deep breath. This was it. Her new job.

Severus stroked a line along her jaw, something almost tender and her heart twisted. "There is only a witch such as you once in a generation. You are more than ready for whatever is beyond those doors." His finger curled away and Hermione had to stop herself from stumbling forward, chasing his touch. "Remember, you are the first ribboned-witch in more than thirty years. Wizardkind is in shock. The shocked react in odd ways. As with Madam Athcasta you will be polite, elegant, but when pushed too far, you will…take measures." His dark eyes sparked with something like wickedness. " Is this understood?"

So the odious Madam Athcasta had been a test. Evil man. Hermione straightened her shoulders. "And the touching. Can I shake hands?"

Severus' mouth thinned. "No. Older wizards will respect your status. Younger ones will see it as a game. On the third insistence, hex them."

Hermione snorted and pressed her hand to her face at the inelegant sound. "Should I put my order in for my black robes now? You plan to mould me into you."

He lifted a dark, imperious eyebrow. "I am an excellent role model."

"You are indeed."

Severus slid her a look before he drew out his wand and stroked it over the wood of the doors. "For visitors," he murmured. And a few seconds later the clanging sound of bolts and chains echoed around the corridor. "This place at least will keep you safe from the Prophet's readership."

Hermione winced. That was true. If she had followed Harry into becoming an Auror, where even his training took him out into the world, the attention would have been horrendous.

"Miss Granger, welcome!" Augustus Beggin swept out from the open doors in vivid robes, a wide smile on his face. He rocked to a stop before her and clasped his heavy hands to his rounded stomach. His face pinked. Bright blue eyes skittered across her throat. He bowed his head. "Of course, of course, I read of your decision this morning." He transferred his bright smile to Severus and gave another short bow. "Professor Snape, always a pleasure. In fact, we have the Rugen Papers in. Finally." He waved back into the Archive. "If you would both come with me?"

Severus took her hand and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. "Until this evening, Miss Granger."

And he swept his way into the vast hall, leaving her with her heart in her throat and her face hot. She willed herself not to stare after him. Witch not muggle. And definitely no relation to a vacuous mooncalf.

That was the last she saw of him for the day.

Almost. Except for the duel.

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