And the next one: because I SAID there'd be more today =)


Hermione worked hard under Umbridge. Dumbledore was sick more often than not and the ministry official had gained the post of Deputy Headmistress, or rather: had been given the post by the ministry itself, as well as some extra privileges which effectively made her headmistress – it was hell.

She'd never seen so many rules put on one wall – students were first not allowed any trick-toys from Zonko's and were then denied Hogsmeade weekends altogether, their uniform was demanded to be impeccable, there was no freedom in expression, most students had detentions with Blood Quills for saying something – anything really – that did not conform to the ministry's opinion.

But the nastiest rule that woman had put up, was the ban of pictures. Of course the paintings of wizards had complained against the horrible rule of a not-even-wizard-and-then-not-even-headmaster who'd turned the whole school upside-down and then they'd started to whisper words of rebellion into the ears of every willing student who'd walk by.

According to the Pink Dictator: they'd had to go.

Filch had never been so happy, she assumed, but then again, he was Umbridge's right man – along with Malfoy, Goyle and Crabbe, who'd lined up for an Inquisition Squad or whatever they were called. The school was practically burning with all the pent up frustration and more and more students joined Dumbledore's Army.

Hermione was grateful that the sub-dungeon they'd found not only provided a training room, but actually was a twin-room to the Room of Requirement. Usually it created a door which would lead to a room that allowed the four girls to repose themselves after training, or even to live in. Peetey had stealthily stolen the picture of Joan, who now hung in the permanent residence of the Black Phoenix Witches.

She trained hard with Luna and Pansy, taught Marlene along with them, let her in on their secrets and their plans and found that the young Huffelpuff had at least the same spirit as Cho, if she didn't have the same abilities as of yet, but she had great potential.

Harry was over-engaged in the activities of Dumbledore's Army and had even brought the students so far as to create a patronus, finally – Parcival had been ecstatic at finally really seeing a zoo in the Room of Requirement, only Hermione had refused to show her patronus, stating that unfortunately it was a Jarvey and Harry really wouldn't want to subject himself to such a treatment.

Potter had bought it with a laugh, and Hermione had let even the whole Army laugh at her, but it was still better than having to shatter his dream that his father had saved him in third year.


In the silence and peace of their sub-dungeon room, Hermione stood in the middle and calmly cleared her mind. It took her not a minute to let her thoughts go and she enjoyed the emptiness in her mind – it was rather soothing nowadays.

"Animal mihi viam libenter."* She said in a clear voice.

For a few moments nothing happened, but she refused to let her thoughts cloud her mind, holding on to the words she had just spoken, feeling them fill her up before all of a sudden pain shot through her – it was dull, sitting deep in her bones and causing a slight unease with her, but she hung on to the echo of her words.

Her world shifted, she could feel her body changing, could feel it sitting uneasily with her stomach, but she let it happen, rather than mess the whole procedure up. Only when the feeling stopped, she dared to open her eyes.

Everything was different. The world was gray and white, but she could smell so much better. Luna was so ecstatic about her having succeeded that she could smell the pheromones that made her happy, Pansy smelled like soap and natural scent, while Marlene smelled primarily like the cologne they'd made her wear.

Groggily she raised her head and realized that she had four paws instead of two legs – she was furry, very much so, and had a strange pattern in her fur. About to ask what she was, she started when she realized that she had just been yipping – of all things.

Cautiously Luna neared her and she closed her eyes at the delicious feeling of being ruffled between her ears – ears… she twitched them experimentally. Luna smiled at her. "You're a wolf, Hermes… a very beautiful, brown wolf."


It was Easter when Luna turned sixteen and when Pansy entered the muggle world for the first time. The Slytherin was giddy about all the colours and strange devices in the new world and Hermione gladly showed her friends around, before soon finding the tattoo parlor she'd searched for.

Due to them being in the muggle world, they'd figured that it was not much of a problem if they enjoyed their venture in their original bodies – it was liberating actually, to not have to cover ones real appearance behind ruddy Glamours, Hermione had almost forgotten how good it felt to even wear dresses instead of trousers.

But Luna had insisted that they would, for her birthday, be the young women that they were, so dresses, heels and make-up it was, and Hermione had never felt any better. She smirked at the two girls behind her.

Luna looked at her. "A tattoo, Hermes?" Hermione grinned.

"I figured that if old Voldie-Moldie can have his tattoo, I can have mine. I am a witch and I am a Witch of the Black Phoenix, I am proud of what I am, I'll forever let it be carved into my skin."

It figured that both Luna and Pansy were all in for the idea. They were lucky that the tattoo artist had nothing to do and that they were apt at obliviating him after having downed him in pepper-up potion in order to get all three tattoos done in one go. He worked as if he were a machine, but in the end the tattoos were just what they'd wanted – a black phoenix with the three runes; Berkana, Pertho and Wunjo – initials of Black Phoenix Witches.


Snape watched his bushy-haired witch as she bustled through her days. It was his favourite past-time activity nowadays – she amused him and she encouraged him without her ever knowing so. Snape knew that the reason he kept on living as a double spy was for people like her, muggle-born, strong individuals that did not back down to form alliances necessary to fight against the terrors that were awaiting them. He was also relieved to see that the protective spirit he had called had not only taken a solid form, but a form so familiar for the witches.

He'd seen Potter and Weasley behave towards her and was glad they did so, glad that finally they realized that without her they'd be a little more than lost. Her letters from Bulgaria arrived constantly still and she always answered almost immediately.

Sif, he'd taken to call his owl by the same name, the animal seemed to prefer it, enjoyed transporting her letters a lot more than his – he could understand. Neither of the Death Eaters were very forth-coming to the owls, but he tried to make it up to her by finally feeding her and taking extra care of her when she returned from one of his missions.

More often than not, he found himself in the library, next to the bed she slept in – in the Restricted Section. Umbridge plowed the corridors herself on some nights and he did not want her to realize that not only a student had entered the Restricted Section, but that a witch had found her way into Hogwarts – that stupid windbag would have her expelled without ever knowing just how valuable she was.

But Severus knew – he knew just how much he relied on this strong, young woman. It was foolish to do so, maybe, she was only seventeen after all, and she had no real idea of what the war would be like, even though she may have more of an idea than anyone else.

It struck him one evening when he dared to touch her cheek and stroke his hand in feather-light touches over her skin that his like had been a lot more since some time.

As if burnt, he'd pulled back his hand, observing the still sleeping woman. His heart had become attached to her, she was the one reason he continued to pull through his double-life, she'd become the anchor in his chaotic maelstrom of a life, she'd become the one soothing thought he used nowadays when he created a patronus. He knew that if there would be anything that would blow his cover it would be Hermione in the hands of a merciless Death Eater – never would he endure the sight of her being tortured.

The thought alone of Hermione in danger made his chest constrict and his breathing stop for the slightest of instants. Careful not to make a sound, he conjured his usual chair and looked at the sleeping witch. She looked so small and pale under his black cloak, but he relished in the fact that she carried something of him, that her scent would later be in that fabric and he'd be able to smell her all day until he'd cover her with it again at night.

He knew she was strong, and he knew that his heart had latched to that strength, as it always did, in hopes that her strength would bring salvation. He'd done it with Lily, he'd done it with Tom – now he'd done it again, with Hermione. But for once, for once his heart didn't quiver at the thought of her holding it in her hands, for once he was not giddy and nervous at the prospect of her deciding what to do.

Severus had observed her, had watched her during her days and nights over the last few years. She'd stayed strong when she'd been treated badly, she'd kept her cover, she'd thrived when others had withered – even in his class, she'd organized a rebellion while being top of her class – her year and the school – and training for the oncoming war as if it were nothing.

He knew that in a way, she was the safest route he'd chosen until now.

Carefully he leant forth again and touched his hand to the softness of her cheek – as if she were awake, the witch smiled and sighed contently, he wondered shortly if she knew it was him, if she felt safe when he was around. A thought struck him then and for the first time in years, he finally gave in to lecherous behavior, if only in his dreams.

"In somnia nos simul."** He whispered as he closed his eyes – his head hit the soft mattress next to hers as he gave in to the dream they created.


She woke up in the bright room, at first nothing of it registered, safe for the fact that she knew this room, or at least felt like she knew it. The tapestries were a calming ochre, with flowery ornaments, and the carpet covering the floor was a pleasant ochre as well.

From what she could see, she was lying in a four-poster bed, made of dark, almost black, mahogany and whose sheets were a black satin that stood in stark contrast with the white, translucent curtains of the bed.

Groggily she snuggled closer to the warmth behind her, sighing, when the hand that had been Merlin knew where before, now rested on her hip, stroking the naked flesh reverently. It came as strange to her that she felt so safe in the arms of someone she couldn't see, but she didn't investigate too much. It was a dream after all, right?

She snuggled closer, earning a chuckle from the man behind her. "You're awake." He admonished playfully, and she smiled.

"Am not." She replied petulantly, relishing in the fact when she was, finally, pulled flush against the muscled planes of manly chest while the arm wound around her midsection – his face hid in the nook of her neck, where he smelled her. She felt warm in a way she hadn't felt since Viktor's kiss.

Turning around, she snuggled closer to him, her head just below his chin, her eyes closed, relishing in the soft touches he gifted her with. His thumb stroke over her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, down her arm, the hollow of her hip, her thigh and up again. She hummed contently, sneaking her arm around his torso as well, shyly placing a kiss on his chest – after all, she had no exact idea how to react to his caresses.


Harry stared at her in deep wonderment, when she changed her robes. Hermes Granger was lithe and muscled, much as a seeker would be, and of course the embodiment of the perfect seventeen-year-old, Hermione had had enough time to study the male anatomy over all these years, she used it to her advantage.

But her muscles weren't what drew Harry's interest, no actually, she was pretty sure it was the tattoo of the phoenix. Weasley did not take long to ask.

"I got it for Lysander's birthday." Hermes smirked. "He's got one too… and Parcival as well. We figured that it is somewhat of a remembrance to Cho, and the fact that he'll rise again like a phoenix."

It was a lame excuse, but lame is just what reality was sometimes, and Potter and Weasley both bought it without a complaint – Hermes smiled to himself when he went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was true that while the idea of a uniting tattoo had originally been for the union they formed, it had not passed her that the rune 'Pertho' looked a lot like a 'C' – and neither Potter nor Weasley had actually chosen Ancient Runes for subject, hence they had no idea anyways.


Severus was torn as he watched Hermione sleep – tomorrow he would have to betray the world that had welcomed him and given him refuge, tomorrow he would have to kill the one man that had believed in him when no one else had, he'd have to betray his mentor and his friend in the direst of situations.

Tomorrow, too, he would make her world crumble. Next to him the Black Phoenix he'd conjured purred soothingly; for a second the bird distracted him, before his thoughts, unerringly, returned to the path they'd trudged for the last week.

Already he'd caused the death of Cho Chang, but now he'd cause a lot more people to actually die. Once Dumbledore was no longer, Umbridge would quickly be disposed of, the ministry always trusted the wrong people, Lucius had them eating from his palm, and overthrowing them would be child's play. Then what would become of Hogwarts? He could already see Voldemort putting LeStrange on the post as headmaster, oh wouldn't the sick little fuck enjoy torturing students…

Beneath his cloak, she breathed peacefully, she was worn still from yesterday – he'd watched as they introduced Marlene into the more dangerous fields of their union, and the young girl had been the one to cast the Cruciatus curse.

The Huffelpuff had been horrified when she had realized what she'd done, but Hermione had calmed her down and had explained the necessities of it. The young girl had demanded to have entry to Hermione's head while she experienced the curse.

"I am hurting you, the least you can let me do is punish myself."

It was a surprising turn, but nonetheless interesting. Marlene was in her first year, but she quickly realized that war was coming and that she needed to be prepared – she grew up too fast, Hermione had admitted it yesterday, but Marlene had insisted that some people needed to grow up too fast in order for other people to be able to live normally, it was a price to pay and she figured she had big sisters that made sure she was strong enough before she'd be thrown into the cold water.

His witch was still exhausted, but at least, he figured, she was still sleeping. He'd let himself come too close to her, he was aware. She slept so deeply that he'd lost his fear of her waking up and if the dreams they created were any indication, then she liked being in his presence. He had not yet revealed his identity but she'd never pried too much. Now as he placed his head next to hers and silently whispered the spell, he knew that tonight may be the last night he'd be able to do so.

She was in the same room again, her head already tucked under the chin of the mysterious man, she sighed contently and rubbed her nose against his chest to indicate that she was there. He quietly returned her affection by squeezing her sides gently.

His grip on her was harder than normally. He'd wrapped her in his two arms, pressing her form close against his – there was something desperate in the hug, and she shyly returned it, pressing her lips to the column of his neck, like she knew he liked it. He always relaxed a little after her doing so, he did so now.

Hermione was used to not being able to see his face completely, and had restored to keeping her eyes closed when she covered his skin in gently kisses and nips, as she did now, slowly working her way up to his jaw and his cheeks, before she pressed her lips softly against his.

It was the first time he responded to her.

In the next moment she found herself flat on her back, him looming over her as his mouth latched to hers with vigor – she gasped at the sudden reaction and found that his tongue invaded her mouth as she opened it. He tasted like coffee and peppermint and she greedily drank his taste, responding to his advances by curling her hand around his neck and pulling him closer.

It took some time until the separated from each other – he skillfully toned the rash kiss down to gentle nips, until he completely parted his lips from hers. In the darkness of her closed eyelids, she could feel his forehead against hers and his breath on her skin, the silkiness of his hair between her fingers and the strength of his arms as he enclosed her.

"Open… open your eyes." He whispered silently, and she could feel the soft shiver – of fear? – that ran over him as she slowly opened her eyes.

Over her towered none other than her cold, usually bastardic, potions professor, his eyes still closed as he waited for her reaction – she smiled silently, waiting for him to open his eyes, it took him some time until finally his deep, obsidian eyes opened and met with hers.

"You're not running." He stated, causing her to smile wider.

"I'm not." She responded softly, playing with the strands of his hair. "What shall I call you?" she asked instead, hoping he'd give her any indication. She'd been waking up next to him for a week now and she enjoyed his nearness, enjoyed his arms around her, his nose buried in her neck as he touched her – though never improper – and his hair tickling her as he gently nipped any expanse of naked flesh she offered him.

"Severus." He said silently before he bent down again, and carefully –as if still not convinced she really wanted this – lowered his lips to hers. She latched enthusiastically to them, drawing him into another mind-blowing kiss. When they lay back to their usual position, her head hid under his chin, he stroked her softly and she responded in kind – some time she fell asleep, even though she really didn't want to.


* google says: Liberate my animal.

** google says: In our dreams we unite.

... but you know how well google-translate works, so please don't kill the messenger

Review if you wish to, but there's another one coming =)