A/N: Hello and welcome back to Chapter Twenty-one of 'Accommodations'! While reading up for the following chapters, I've stumbled across the fact that Hermione recommended Murtlap Essence, not Essence of Dittany, for treating injuries from the Blood Quill. Interesting that nobody noticed or chose to call me out on the fact. ;)

Before reading this chapter, I would recommend rereading Chapter Thirteen, if you care to refresh your memories of a certain scene. There's no need, though; it will have no impact on understanding this chapter.

Have fun! And please, be generous with your reviews, if you find the time. :)

Friday, December 6th, 1995

Hermione hissed when she slipped into the water. Though soothing to most of her exhausted body, the soapy liquid sent new pain coursing through the not wholly healed wounds on her back.

In the past weeks, Professor Snape had taken to whipping her. Magically, that is, of course, while probing at her mental shields. For a few lessons, he'd set her more writing assignments with the blood quill, selecting different areas of her body and slipping her Essence of Dittany to heal herself, rather than touch her again. After a week and a half, he had added magical whipping.

Each lesson, he would increase the number of lashes Hermione received. He had started at the plump flesh of her bum, which had already hurt far more than the spanking he had given her what now seemed so long ago. Next came her lower back, where she still had more baby fat than she would have liked, now glad about that for once, and after a while the back of her thighs, making her bite her tongue as she tried not to cry out in pain.

Professor Snape had always handed her the Essence of Dittany to treat her wounds, but ordered her to abstain from doing so for increasing lengths of time. Last week, Monday had seen her keep her wounds until their Remedial Potions lesson began, and on Thursday she'd had to wait until her bath to heal them.

This week, however, was the top of the stack yet. On Monday, she'd received more lashes than ever before, distributed to her bum, lower back, and thighs. Her shields had slipped once, revealing her remembered tears at turning herself halfway into a cat in her second year. Professor Snape had raised a single eyebrow at that, but had decided not to comment on what he'd seen, much to Hermione's relief. That evening, she'd been allowed to heal her thighs and bum, but not her back.

Today, the lashes had spared the still tender marks from where she'd been whipped at the beginning of the week, but the lashes travelled further up to her shoulder blades, where the skin was taut and the whip caused pain such as Hermione had not known before. Before long, the Potions Master had cast a local Silencing charm surrounding her work station, combined with a Notice-Me-Not, and relieved at the small reprieve that her inaudibility allowed her, Hermione had cried to her heart's content. Her shields had revealed the memory of her crying the night of the Yule Ball, after Ron had horribly insulted her. Again, the professor had remained without comment.

"Lean forward, Miss Granger."

The silky voice cut through the silence of her self-pity like a knife. Startled, Hermione sloshed more water over her back, and managed to brush her lower back against the walls of the pool which, though warm and even, sent more pain to her old wounds.

Unwilling to let her professor see the tears that escaped from her eyes at the pain that came from her surprised jumpiness, she did as she was told, letting her hair fall around her face as she leaned forwards, hiding her features.

She sighed in relief, crying even more in her happiness, when a warm cloth settled over the entirety of her back, covering her wounds in fabric wet with soothing and healing essences. She was quite certain that the cloth was drenched in Dittany to prevent scarring as much as was still possible after leaving the wounds on her lower back unattended for so long, and the healthy whiff of aloe that she caught hinted at a healing potion that was a stronger brew than what most wounds students brought to the infirmary were treated with.

So relaxed was she at the fact that her pains were being taken from her, that she was certain at first that she must imagine the deep baritone that sang unknown syllables to her. A few words she almost thought she recognised from Latin class during her years in primary school, but if the language was indeed Latin, it must be a dialect so old it wasn't taught anymore. Only when her wounds started knitting together where the potion-drenched cloth had not been enough did Hermione realize that it was her Potions Master who chanted healing spells to her.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione whispered when silence had surrounded them for long enough that she was certain his song must be finished. "If I may ask, what was that?"

"Vulnera Sanentur," Professor Snape answered her. "A healing spell that will mend most wounds. And before you ask, insufferable girl, I will not be teaching this to you. I am much too busy drilling some pain resistance into you to teach you fancy songs. Furthermore, healing requires much positive energy, and caught in your opponent's dungeon, being tortured for days, you will have neither positivity nor energy in sufficient supply to work this spell."

Hermione's mouth must have snapped shut audibly, for her professor's previously harsh tones now gave way to a dark chuckle. She fought not to visibly shiver at the sound that sent waves of forbidden pleasure through her whole body.

"Now, Miss Granger," the Potions Master stated from behind her, "let me see your underwater breathing."

Severus had had to keep himself from physically flinching when he'd crossed into the part of the bathroom that contained the pool, coming out from behind the girl's screen, and laying eyes on her half healed, half scarred injuries from his whipping. He'd neglected to look at her wounds before, the incident with her soaked through knickers so softly against his fingers still fresh on his mind, he'd simply been unwilling to repeat the experience anytime soon, out of fear.

Fear at the very real, very high possibility that she might reject him if she felt he touched her in purpose, not accidentally as it had been those weeks previously.

Fear at the fact that he had enjoyed touching her the last time, to a degree at which the usually so deft movements of his hands had become unfocused and uncoordinated, resulting in the accidental brush against her core, barely braced against his touch with the too-thin barrier of her transfigured knickers.

Fear at the thought that he might lose all sanity and control, and give in to his desire for a teenage schoolgirl in his care, both mentally and physically.

Now, however, that he'd seen how much pain he must have inflicted upon her, not only by whipping her during their lessons together but also by forbidding her from healing her wounds for increasing lengths of time, Severus wondered if he might not already have lost all sanity and control. In fact, he had bared himself to the girl, who was bared to him in her nakedness herself, by casting the Vulnera Sanentur over her, opening up to the vulnerability that was his singing voice. Her injuries had not justified the use of such an intense and intimate healing spell, as the cloth drenched in soothing potions had taken care of the largest portion of harm. Remained had only a few of the older wounds, remnants from his whipping three days ago, and they did not warrant such a treatment. However, seeing the naked girl baring her wounded back to him, Severus had felt the inexplicable longing to care for the girl, for giving something of himself to her – her, who had already taken so much.

And now he had ordered her to immerse herself fully in the water once more. Back to the usual, he scoffed inwardly, and rightly so. It was safer to stick to what she'd asked him to do – teaching her. At least for the rest of the year, Severus was set on using the breathing break that was not sleeping with the girl yet. It would get infinitely harder not to become attracted to her, at least physically, when they would start with the sexual aspects of their lessons, and with his own demands.

He watched the girl take a last few deep breaths before pushing away from the edge of the pool and allowing herself to sink into the water, exhaling as she sank.

If they started on that, he reminded himself. After all, the girl could still back out of her half-commitment, and he would accept that. But if she did commit, and fully, Severus would need to maintain an iron grip on his self-discipline and remember that he did not need her for the sex – at least not intrinsically.

Hermione had begun to embrace the blessed veil that was the Pure Black settling around her as she Occluded. Under the professor's watchful eye and unceasing pushing over the past months, she had managed to improve her underwater breathing, so that she could stay immersed in the deep centre of the pool-like tub for minutes at a time. The breakthrough had come when she'd unconsciously, but very intently, drawn oxygen from the air above the surface into the water so that she might breathe more freely there.

As she sat on the ground of the tub, revelling in the feeling of weightlessness that poured into her every nerve, she was glad that her nakedness was once again so thoroughly hidden from Professor Snape. Although she had allowed him to reveal her underwear a few weeks ago, feeling so confident and flirty and just pure sexy at the time, she was now back to self-consciousness whenever he was in the same room with her. Baring her back to him earlier had been as much as she was able to take, though there was always a niggling desire inside her begging her to reveal everything to him. Thus far, she had been able to shoot that down pretty easily, but was secretly scared of the time that this desire would increase to a degree at which she could not fight it anymore.

That better be in the next few weeks, or January will be very awkward, a well-known but rather little-liked voice spoke up.

Hermione sighed, feeling the bubbles of air disturbing the water above her and quickly drawing another deep breath to resupply her lungs' demand for oxygen. Not only had she decidedly not missed that niggling voice, but she also had yet to decide on a partner in losing her virginity.

Harry, she had been quick to decide against. Best friend though he was, he felt too much like a brother to her to even consider for any length of time. Ron was next on her list, but was dismissed as well. She did not need a fumbling boy who needed instructions in what went where and would probably brag about the encounter afterwards, considering his need to shine as the youngest of six brothers. Much as she loved him as a friend, she was not ready to face him as a lover yet.

Hermione quickly scanned through the rest of her yearmates, coming to much the same conclusions. From the older years, she did not know many students. The twins had come to mind briefly, but were dismissed almost the moment she thought about them, unwilling to get between their relationships with Katie and Angelina.

Angelina, of course, Hermione had seriously considered for a while, thinking that if all she needed was somebody to break her hymen, the elder girl would probably do that for her if asked, and in a very pleasurable way. However, Hermione wanted not only to receive, but to give in turn, and she felt yet uncomfortable trying anything with a girl.

In the way of past boyfriends, there were none. Of course, there had been the short dalliance with Viktor, but much as she appreciated their penpalship, or whatever one might want to call it, he was no actual love interest. Also, there was the slight difficulty of how to reach him before the year was over.

Of course, the professor had not demanded she keep her sex life within the magical world. There was always the possibility of chatting up a nice muggle boy during her skiing vacation with her parents in Switzerland. In fact, that option appealed to Hermione very much. Confident that her dormmates had taught her enough about making her appearance appealing, and that, if everything else failed, Angelina could probably give her a few pointers on how to seduce a guy, Hermione supposed that getting a boy into bed with her should not be a problem. Sneaking out from underneath her parents' noses would be more difficult to accomplish, but possible nonetheless. The 'vacation solution' had the added benefit of not having to see him again. After all, she would be having a steady… lover? No, sex partner was probably the better term – come 1996.

Almost intent on utilising that solution, Hermione remembered the book. Specifically, the grimoire on blood magic that her Head of House had recommended. And didn't that book's contents cast a new light on this whole loss-of-virginity-discussion.

'Blood Magic for the Uninitiated' had revealed itself to contain a staggering number of rituals and potions in which to use the blood of a broken hymen. Disgusted by the mere notion at first, Hermione had read on for academia's sake and in the confidence that Professor McGonagall must have thought the tome's contents useful to her. After a while, it had become clear to her that the book did not suggest ways in which to exploit a virgin's coming of age, so to speak, as Hermione had feared at first. The grimoire was rather a collection of manners in which to empower a young witch that had been deflowered.

Split into different chapters, the tome appeared to be a family's collection of virginal blood magic. Handed down from witch to witch, from matriarch to daughter to granddaughter, the book detailed rituals and recipes for every age of witch, age of blood, and manner in which the blood had been spilled. Chapters on marital blood bonds sat next to chapters on how to employ one's loss of virtue to get back at one's rapist, and recipes ranged from draughts mixed right from the fresh blood, to essences brewed on the first-born's first nameday by soaking the wedding bed's sheets for hours, dried blood stain included.

Truly, many of the descriptions had Hermione recoil and shut the grimoire for a few minutes before reading on, that night a few weeks past when she'd first opened it and soaked up its contents. Coming to the realization that her Head of House meant for her to make good use of giving up her own virginity had not exactly helped. Mature as she was in many ways her yearmates would seemingly never be, Hermione was still very much a shy teenage girl, inexperienced in the way of sexuality, her two single encounters with Angelina aside.

As it was, Hermione had decided to honour Professor McGonagall's good intentions and utilize the knowledge that was to gain from the tome. Combined with Professor Snape's task of ridding herself of her hymen, it appeared that the book had been given to her at the best possible time. Many practices described therein she had dismissed at once, of course, as she had little (meaning no) intention to marry anytime soon, much less bring a child into the middle of a war.

One ritual had stood out, however. Upon mulling the paragraph over a couple of times, Hermione had come to the realization that she had, in fact, picked out the exact same practice that her Head of House had used on her ex-fiancé. The idea in itself was rather simple. The witch had to give her virginity willingly to somebody. The fresh blood would be spelled from the body to form itself into a diamond. Worn in direct touch to the flesh, the diamond would protect the bearer from most harm. It would not spare them from the pain, but it would save their lives in most situations that would usually mean certain death.

That ritual alone did not exactly have sway over Hermione's decision in who to choose as her first sexual partner. A note at the end, however, did. A few hand-scribbled sentences that appeared to have been added at least a century after the original grimoire entrance detailed the efficiency of the 'blood diamond' (Hermione had had to smirk at the term, against her will). Its effect would be most noticeable if the couple were in love, bonded, and the wearer was the same man who had taken the witch's virginity. Each aspect multiplied the effectiveness tenfold.

Hermione knew that she would never reach the thousand times more powerful effect, as she could never combine all three requirements. One of them, however, would be easy – present her sex partner with the diamond.

That meant choosing a partner that was most deserving of such a powerful artefact, and might need it the most.

Of course, Harry came right at the top of that list, as well, but was again dismissed (though with a very heavy heart) for the simple cringeworthiness that would come with sleeping with him. Academically speaking, Hermione was not quite convinced that giving her virginity to somebody she felt was like a brother to her would count as 'willingly', either, and she did not wish for the act to be in vain. Even though there were plenty of practices that she could still use her blood in if this particular ritual should fail; if she didn't want to have to fall back on any of them (and she didn't), it wasn't exactly as if she had more than one attempt to get this right.

And so Hermione told herself that plenty of people, herself included, would be supporting and helping and protecting Harry in all kinds of ways, and so one more magical artefact that would do more damage than good to their (totally platonic) relationship was of no consequence to his safety.

Ron was out of the question for the same reasons as before, and for the same reasons that Harry had been dismissed now. None of her yearmates were in quite the same dire need of protection as her two best friends were, and so they were crossed off Hermione's mental list as well.

As it was, still breathing the soapy water around her on the ground of the prefects' bathroom's tub, Hermione realized that the time might have come to consider some older men – namely Order members. She had great friendships with some of them, and at least a very respectful relation to most of the others (alright, all of the others, excluding Mundungus Fletcher). That didn't make them any younger though, or her more willing to take them to bed, most likely having to seduce and/or convince them first.

Hermione convinced herself to go through the list of Order members known to her anyway. Anyone above fifty was dismissed at once. Much as she liked members such as Dedalus Diggle, there would simply be too much reluctance on her part to count the act as willingly performed.

Out of the rest, first came Professor Lupin. With his lycanthropy, Hermione was quite certain that he would be useful in very dangerous missions, and would never be so selfish as to deny the Order his help in securing important allies in powerful minorities – namely werewolves. That very selflessness, however, would most likely keep him from accepting Hermione's sacrifice to him, and even if he did agree to participate in the ritual with her – Hermione tried to avoid any direct mention of losing her virginity, even in her own mind – he might end up thinking himself not worthy of the blood diamond, and hand it to somebody else, which would render his participation in the first place as good as worthless.

Next on her mental list was Sirius. Even though she had her differences of opinion with the man and although the two of them could be seen bickering like an old couple more often than not when in the same room together, Hermione saw and appreciated the value that Sirius held as Harry's godfather. As such, he was the closest to a parent her raven-haired best friend still had, and to lose him could tip Harry's mental balance, and with it the scales in winning this war, far to the worse.

Locked in number twelve as Sirius was, and having been imprisoned for a good (or rather, horrible) portion of his life before that, Hermione guessed that he had little opportunity in, well, better acquainting himself with any woman – if he did not want to fall back on his cousin Tonks, of course, and considering how much Sirius hated everything that was usually mentioned in connection with the Black family name, Hermione supposed that his stance on incest would be rather vehemently contra.

All in all, considering the fact that he had little access to women who he might consider appropriate for sexual relations, Hermione thought that Sirius might be rather more easily convinced than most other Order members. He would stay on the list for now.

One more member under fifty years of age was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Just thinking about the man and his very attractive appearance sent shivers all over Hermione's body. Considering how little she was acquainted with the auror, she was still very impressed with how he had listened to her ideas and visions, and with the way he had conversed with her – as if she was actually an adult whose opinions were no less valid than his own. Having been called a know-it-all for the bigger part of her life and having often been patronized even by the authority figures in her life who did not mock her for her studiousness, Hermione had been excited to meet a man who actually seemed to legitimately value their interactions. Perhaps, she thought, that was why he was on the list at all. After all, Hermione knew little about the man, other than that he was an auror, which was of course a dangerous job in and of itself, but told her little of the value which he posed for the Order.

Another shiver moved through Hermione as she decided to keep Kingsley Shacklebolt on the list for now, thinking about how his pleasantly deep voice shook her to the core. And that was when she realized with a start that Auror Shacklebolt was not the only male Order member with an arousing voice.

The surprise that came with her realization tore down Hermione's usually so steady Occlumency shields, and her concentration was gone. Gone as well was the tight grip that she'd had on her magic, and also gone with that grip was her oxygen supply. Having drawn in a lungful of soapy tub water, Hermione pushed herself off the tiled bottom of the pool. Once her head was safely above the surface once more, terrible coughing wracked her whole body, her shoulders shaking as she tried desperately to empty her lungs of the water that she had inhaled.

When her breathing had calmed a little, Hermione set to the task of pushing the drenching wet riot of curls out of her face. Mulling over the thought that her very own professor might be the most important option of who to present with the ritual that would forge her virtue into a magically protecting diamond, Hermione wiped soap out of her eyes. Blinking a few times to ascertain that she could see again, she started when her eyes landed on the Potions Master. It appeared that he had crossed around the tub, coming to stand in his usual place, rather than hovering behind her as he had done earlier in order to heal her injured back.

Their gazes locked.

Too late, Hermione realized that her Occlumency shields had come crumbling down at the bottom of the pool, and that she had failed to re-erect them in the time it had taken her to surface again.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" the Potions Master asked.

Too late, Hermione realized that she had been practically screaming her professor's name over and over in her mind.

"You have my full attention," the wizard in question practically purred. "What is it you wish to tell me?"

Too late, indeed.

Coming up: Chapter twenty-two, wherein lengths of effect are discussed.