I'm glad you liked how I dealt with Lucius. I was thinking, public shame for a wizard like him would hit harder and deeper than any number of hexes… ;-)

Also this is later than expected and shorter. Madame Athcasta put a spanner in the works by plonking herself at their table. I had to rethink how I played her...

Amelia had ignored him through the first two courses, instead focusing her attention on the weak-chinned wizard next to her. Though Severus had caught that man's gaze sliding more than once from her to Hermione. Severus gut knotted at the gleam of speculation in the inbred idiot's eyes.

He held down a wince and stabbed at a carrot. He'd have a bloody ulcer by March.

He could feel them all watching her. Any subtly had simply vanished as they practically salivated over the young witch next to him. All-to-eager to dip into the magic of the Ribbon-wearer…

Severus took a mouthful of wine to wash away the foul taste in his mouth. His thumb worked the ring on his finger, turning its warmth against his skin. The ancient magic threaded insanity through his flesh. Before Miss Hermione Granger had…coerced him into putting the ribbon to her throat, he'd hardly given another thought to the numerous witches who'd worked their way between –and through— his sheets.

He'd found a mutual delight in their flesh…and felt no pang when the witch, or he, had moved on. They slept with a fiction. The Dark Hero of the war. The Broken Spy, who had slaved only for his Lost Love.

Severus sneered into his glass, watching the fountain of deep red wine bubble up to refill the goblet. He frowned. Yes, he'd been far too lenient on Rita Skeeter.

"Rogue…"

Severus eyes narrowed on Amelia. She dragged out her old endearment for him when she wanted to push nails under his skin. It was a name from the time of their betrothal. She'd forgiven him for his actions then, but still guilt pricked him. Her use of Rogue brought it back every time. And the manipulating witch knew it.

He put down his glass. A headache pinched at the edge of his temples and he became as unsubtle as the leering wizards that surrounded them. "What are you about, Amelia?"

The witch pressed a delicate, ungloved hand to her throat. Still her voice was low when she asked, "Me? You are the one playing games, Severus." Her gaze darted to Hermione and back again. "A virgin? You?"

He could hardly begin to explain why he'd agreed to be Hermione's Mentoris. The excuse he'd used with Lucius –of it being a thumbing his nose to the shocked Order— would hardly work with Amelia. It was also that. He couldn't acknowledge how, in that draughty library, a deeply buried part of him had wanted Hermione. Someone so pure…and his.

He lifted an eyebrow, his thoughts shoved hard behind occluding shields. "I am in a sacred office." His lips lifted, the hint of a smile sure and touched with arrogance. He dropped his voice. Something slow, deliberate. "It's not all…physical, Amelia.

The witch's eyes darkened. She'd always been susceptible to his voice. "This is you. It is always physical."

"And is this what Lucius offered you?" He looked to the table, his gaze narrowing on an ebullient Master Tam. He was sitting too close to Hermione, broad shoulders a mere inch from hers. Only a hint of disquiet threaded through his ring. Hermione didn't feel threatened. Severus turned back to Amelia. "He offered you this? Me?"

The witch gave an easy shrug. "He's a Malfoy. She's the first ribboned-witch in a generation. He was being himself. Why should I not benefit?"

"Leave her be." Anger at his old friend twisted tight in his stomach. "Through your actions, he touched her, Amelia."

"Honestly, this surprises you? He's beyond any law, sacred or otherwise. He always will be. It would be best for her, and for you, to recognise this. He will have her, Severus. Make no doubt." She stared up, and the brilliance of the lighting caught in her dark eyes. A wry smile pulled at her lips. "And she will fall before him. Before this. This wealth and power. Every witch he's ever wanted always has." She fixed on him again, her face set and serious. "You know that."

Amelia patted his hand and to his surprise, he flinched. "Save yourself the…complications of going up against him." Something shifted in her gaze. Compassion? Worry? What was the witch up to? She drew a pattern against the back of his hand. A rune to light to catch. "Come March she will be gone. They always go. You know that, too."

Yes, he knew it. All too well. Oh, Hermione seemed to want him know -a result of the magic flaring between them- but that would fade. Fall away over time. She was young and clever with the world before her.

The ribbon-wearer never stayed with her Mentoris. And that knowledge was a sour burn in his gut.

Hermione poked her golden dessert fork into remains of her decadent pudding. Only at a Malfoy supper would afters come layered in gold dust. She laid her fork across the glitter and the gold-rimmed plate vanished. Hermione picked up water goblet, her fingers teasing over the ornate stem.

She took a sip and put it down, every action deliberate. Her stomach was in knots. Oh, every course had been ostentatiously delicious. Cooked, displayed and served to perfection. But the company…

The wizards at the table had leered and offered more than one foul innuendo. A quiet look from Severus had at least silence them. Though their leers remained. Master Callan Tam had, not exactly talked down to her, but there'd been a level of condescension that made her want to stab her little golden fork into his meaty hand. He'd sat back in his chair when she said she was apprenticed to Master Beggins and the Archive.

"But…I understood you were a Gryffindor" had been his response and she'd twisted the fork in her hand. Being a perfect witch was not being herself. She had to find some path through, a way to be herself and yet still fit in. It wasn't Hogwarts. Her gaze drifted to the far end of the room and over Draco's aristocratic sneer. She couldn't simply punch people now.

"Your ribbon is still white, Miss Granger."

Hermione speared a strawberry. The tines of her fork tinked against the bone china. Really? Tam had actually gone there? And she was the one who was supposed to have no breeding and social skills. She could see why Severus had little time for his fellow wizards. "Master Tam…"

"I mean, Severus Snape's current reputation—"

Her mouth thinned. Still she grabbed her chance to change the subject. "As opposed to his previous reputation?"

Tam blinked. Did he think she wouldn't defend her Mentoris? Merlin, she'd defend him regardless of the magic binding him. She always had. "I meant no offence."

She bit back on the stinging reply of "no, but much taken" and gave him a sharp nod. "I think it's best we talk of less…controversial subjects, sir."

He gave her a wide smile. "Callan."

Hermione almost groaned and, instead, forced a polite smile. They weren't as persistent as Ron. Nor as obviously sexual. Except Malfoy. But the…attention made her uncomfortable. She'd never been that sort of girl. Pretty and popular. A shudder ran through her. Man-pleasing.

"Hermione…"

Severus' smooth voice pricked her skin, his lips far-too-close to her ear, to sensitive skin that ached for his kiss, his touch. No, she'd never aimed to change herself to please a man, to act and flirt. But this need she had for Severus. The dark thought burned that she would do anything to have him satisfy it. And her.

"You're twitching." He paused and her pulse drummed. "Impatient, witch?"

Her gaze slid to him as she put down her fork. She didn't look beyond him. Not to the witch who'd bloody monopolised him through half the meal. Who he'd allowed to monopolise him. At least with him she would be herself. Sharp and prickly. "I can't possibly think what you mean, Professor."

His eyebrow rose. "Professor?" The hint of a dark smile lifted his lips. "Do you wish to play the little busy-haired know-it-all to my wicked and brooding Potions Master?" His smile deepened to a smirk and his voice was low and lined with sin. "Have you been a very naughty girl, Miss Granger?"

Her heart did not skip a beat. It didn't. Damn him. She was annoyed with him for being, being…fooled by that witch. Madame Athcasta. And she wanted to deny the fierce heat in her face. But…forbidden fantasies, ones long buried from somewhere in her Sixth Year rose up, forced out by the sudden tightness of her flesh.

His hot breath seared her skin, his lips almost, almost brushing against her and she shivered. "Should I take House Points? Or does your…transgression warrant a more carnal punishment?"

Hermione had to remember to breathe. Circe's little pigs, she was supposed to be angry with him. Not this. Not wanting to drag him under the table and have her way with him. Their binding magic was exacerbating her desire and she cursed it.

"I promised you pleasure…"

She wet her parched lips, her gaze fixed on the gleaming white of the tablecloth. None of the others at the table could know how he affected her. "You did."

"Do you doubt my word?"

Her eyes snapped to him, and he was so close that his eyes were her world. Dark, endless, mesmerising. "Never, Severus."

His brows drew together, the glimmer of surprise, of...doubt there before he masked it with a cool calm. "The supper will soon break." He eased back from her, his smile reduced to little more than a lift at the corner of his mouth. "We will leave then."

Had she shocked him into a retreat? Did he think she was lying? But how could she not trust him? Keeping the course he had for so many years. Reviled. Willing to face his death, leaving only Harry knowing the truth of his life.

The wizard across from her –she'd happily forgotten his name— leered. Hermione looked away, and picked up her goblet again, letting the iced water cool the heat in her flesh. Her other hand, hidden under the drape of the white tablecloth, curled into a tight fist against her thigh. No, there'd be no other wizards for her. Her belly tightened. At the very least, until the wizarding world forgot about her wearing the ribbon.

And…perhaps it wasn't all down to magic and her admiration for Severus had slipped into something deeper. Something so much more dangerous. Especially for her obviously too-muggle heart.

She glanced at Severus' hawk-like profile, soft light gilding his pale skin and forming a bright shine against his black hair. He wasn't handsome. But there was something so…compelling about him that she simply couldn't resist. Was she being a foolish girl, caught in her first crush? It felt so much more.

No. Her heart tightened into a stone in her chest. Her decision was fixed. No other wizards. A smile tugged at her lips. After all, how did one follow a wizard like Severus Snape?

It's a bit transition-y, but I had to cut here otherwise it'd be uber long... lol

As ever let me know what you think! :)