AN: I apologize for the presence of Dumbledore. This story was started before book 5 and going back and changing everything would change the fic entirely.
Also: in the book, Hermione is not offended to be called a Mudblood, Ron is offended. Hermione just thinks Draco is dumb. (A recurring theme.) Because Snape's family is so haughty, Snape calls her Mudblood in a teasing way when they are alone because it is clear she has accomplished more by the time she turns 19 then most pure blooded witches do in their lifetimes. He’s bringing home the fact that all most his other choices in a partner had to offer was a bloodline, while she is the real prize and came from what the Russian wizards would consider peasantry.
People in mixed race relationships tease each other about things it would be improper for other people to say and comment on, much as it is common for a Muggle male to get ornery during a football game and ‘order his woman’ to get back in the kitchen to get him a beer and snacks. He knows she could beat the hell out of him if he were serious, much like Snape knows Hermione can hex his winky into oblivion, but he does it anyway to be a smart ass.
Snape calls her Mudblood
when she is at her best or when he is teasing her. (Like when she talks about
being ‘unveiled’ during Russian Social Season and Snape compares it to showing
off a new farm animal.) He knows she is better than the rest, and he never does
it in a mean way. Hermione knows very well she’s the outcast in a foreign
Wizarding community that treats Muggle-borns centuries behind the British
Wizarding world. (Many in
Marriage Law Chapter 27
Hermione watched Dumbledore deeply breathe in the scent of Molly Weasley’s thick, steaming onion soup. He broke into a large golden brown bun and held it over his wooden bowl as a few drops of melted butter fell out.
“Thank you, Molly for another spectacular meal.” Arthur raised his goblet of wine at his wife.
“Hear, hear!” Neville said cheerfully as he raised his goblet. If Neville had it his way, Molly would cook here every night.
Gregory Goyle nodded, his mouth full of soup soaked bun. Padma and Parvarti elbowed him from either side. He put his bun down and raised his goblet, trying to swallow quickly as his wives looked satisfied. Luna Lovegood looked on, amused.
Severus shuddered. Gregory’s ability to be molded was alarmingly easy. They were lucky Voldemort never showed interest and gave him direction.
Or just gave him a woman to nag him into being competent. That seemed amazingly effective. If Voldemort had come up with this arranged partnership idea years ago they might have actually gotten somewhere.
He imagined an infuriated, captured Hermione being brought to him as his forced bride.
In his fantasy he cackled evilly before he tamed her with his mighty penis. The more she climaxed, the angrier she got with him.
She would fight for domination in their bedchamber, the metaphor for good vs. evil being personified in their coupling, each desperately fighting for the upper hand. Their lovemaking would be angry, fierce, and feral.
She may even draw blood with her nails and teeth. He would pull her hair and taste sweat off her neck as he tugged her head back so she would be exposed to him.
Severus glanced at his wife eating dinner beside him. He found his eyes were being drawn to his Hermione’s bust. He was glad his robes were voluminous. He hoped this meeting was going to be short.
She certainly seemed to be confident enough to try and dominate him in their quarters. He had spied the moving pictures of her rooms and saw the restraints on her bed. Perhaps she wouldn’t be opposed to playing the helpless female victim. He could sound proof the walls and they could really make some noise.
Perhaps - his breath caught in his throat – perhaps she would tie him up first. So he could show her there was nothing to be afraid of. To keep her confidence up. Perhaps she would even hurt him a bit.
Severus Snape was sitting at
a dinner with the Order of the
Under the table, he pretended to adjust the napkin in his lap and ran his hand up his wife’s thigh. He slightly swiped her crotch with his fingertips.
Hermione choked on her soup.
He was brought back to reality as Molly Weasley banged the heavy pot with the remainder of the soup on the table in front of him.
He was sincerely glad Molly Weasley was abhorrently pathetic at Legilimency. If she knew how depraved those last trains of thoughts were she’d Crucio him on the spot.
And he knew he deserved it.
But he’d still find out if she fancied the idea of at least one of them getting tied up. That was the least depraved thought he had.
From the way she was tickling his knee, he knew she was up to a bit of physical love later. He looked at her face and she smiled at him.
She really was a very pretty girl. He smirked at her.
She held her cheerful smile as she tickled her way up his leg and firmly gripped his erection.
He gasped, sincerely glad no one was looking at them.
Then just as quickly, she let go of him and raised her goblet to Molly Weasley. She smirked at him.
Dear Lords, what was the woman trying to do to him?!
Mrs. Longbottom, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Remus Lupin stopped bickering about a new security spell published in Progressive Theoretical Magicks long enough to raise their glasses.
Ron and Harry clapped wildly, as if they had been starving for months. From the amount of take out boxes Hermione had helped them clear out before everyone else got there it wasn’t far from the truth.
How much nutritional value was in fish and chips, anyway? And someone needed to inform them that curry, while being very tasty, was not a food group.
Fred and George, who had turned into quite competent cooks after leaving their mother’s house, carried heaping bowls of steaming vegetables to the table as Molly opened the oven to reveal several chickens baked to a crisp golden brown.
“Thank you,” Molly said as she examined the chickens. “Now help me get these out.”
Arthur hopped up from his seat and helped Molly as Dumbledore clinked his fork to the side of his goblet to get everyone’s attention.
“As most of you know, there has been quite a stir about a gift Hermione received from the Jotun after the attack on the Ministry. After delicate negotiation with the Amazons and the Brotherhood they have decided to enter into a mutually beneficial project in deciphering the significance of the object and what it means for us.”
“They could have just given her a trinket.” Ron said as he soaked up some soup with his bread, looking longingly at the steaming chickens being put on large stone platters.
“The Jotun never ‘just do’ anything.” Severus said darkly. He really didn’t trust that thing.
“I cannot believe you would just let her traipse about with that around her neck, Severus.” Molly chided him as she set a platter of chicken in front of him and Hermione.
“The bloody woman didn’t even mention it to me!” Severus exploded, looking severely annoyed. “Could have gotten herself killed or transformed or worse!”
Hermione gave him a dirty look.
His almost-gone erection sprang back to life.
“We know it’s not harmful now.” Fred said. He smiled and licked his lips as a baked chicken floated to rest between he and his twin.
“We don’t really know anything.” Harry said quietly.
Dumbledore looked at Harry for a moment, then looked down at his soup and started tearing his bread to bits over it. “Harry has got a very good point.”
Hermione had never noticed Dumbledore seem uneasy about anything Harry said before. She glanced back at Harry.
“All we really know is that it’s indestructible by means known to us.” Harry went on. “For all we know, no one’s pulled the trigger on it yet.”
Hermione started. She knew it was Voldemort’s knowledge and it put her slightly on edge.
Molly and Arthur looked at each other nervously.
“Well, the Amazons and the Brotherhood seemed to think it was alright to wear?” Arthur ventured.
Hermione reached her hand up to fidget with the amulet hanging under her robes.
“No one mentioned a problem with you wearing it?” Neville asked.
“Never.” Hermione shook her head.
“But it’s attuned to your bloodline, isn’t it?” Harry asked. “Ever put it on anyone else?”
The table fell silent.
“He has a valid point.” Severus said to Hermione.
“But I’ve let you handle the amulet.” Hermione protested.
“Handling isn’t the same as putting it on.” Dumbledore said as he scraped the bottom of his bowl and placed it to the side.
“Besides, your bloodlines have been magically bonded, haven’t they?” Ron added. “It’s nearly the same as family.”
“Huh.” Hermione said as she pulled the amulet out of her shirt. She pulled the pouch off and held it up where it sparkled between her fingers.
“It’s a living opal.” Mrs. Longbottom said.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“Well, enchanted, of course.” She waved her wand and some of the chicken nearest to her sliced itself and arranged itself on her plate. “Piece of that broken bridge from up north, isn’t it?”
“How do you know this?” Dumbledore asked her, peering over the tops of his gold spectacles.
“It was clearly described in the Chronicles of Jared the Wanderer.” She explained. “Neville’s 15 times over grandfather.”
“And you chose to tell us now because?” George ventured before anyone else said anything rude.
“Because no one showed it to me before.” She sniffed in an imperious way as she peered at the amulet.
“So it’s just a trinket?” Severus asked.
“No. It’s a key.”
Severus looked at Hermione and instantly knew she was going to be buried under Longbottom family archives for the rest of the evening.
He knew he’d made painful sacrifices for the Order. Losing an evening of naked Hermione was a small sacrifice.
If anyone had asked him that moment what any of the others had been he’d be hard pressed to come up with something.