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A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!!!
Ox King: Thanks for such detailed feedback. Unfortunately, I already have the story plotted, but that is a really fascinating premise...I'd love to see you write more on it!



Chapter 3




Hermione sat at table, studying the couple in front of her. Thomas Rendell-Grace and Carolyn Smythe held hands nervously, watching her with pleading eyes. If there was one thing she hated about this job, it was the heaping expectations that were ladled upon her with every muggle-born couple that needed her help. Now that things were growing desperate, she wasn’t so sure she would be able to keep this up for long. She was not looking forward to the first couple she would have to turn down.

M.U.F.F. had lost virtually all the pureblood support its predecessor had garnered. It turned out that the purebloods who claimed to oppose the law opposed it in theory only. Once they were called upon to put their so-called beliefs into practice, they found it was much easier to go with the flow. She supposed that, like Snape, leaving the wizarding world was not an option for most purebloods so they did what they had to do to survive. In fact, Snape was the only pureblood she knew who still seemed dead set against the law. She realized there may be more out there, but they certainly wouldn’t come to her for help, not to a muggle-born.

“Carolyn,” she began, “you’re still a Hogwarts student, correct?”

The girl nodded nervously. “Yes, I am. I don’t turn eighteen until October, but there have already been several petitions put in on my behalf.”

Hermione sighed grimly. She could see why Carolyn was sought after; the girl was beautiful. Her wide, blue eyes watered as she clutched her boyfriend’s hand, her smooth auburn hair falling over her shoulders. But she was still a student. This was the biggest travesty of the law in Hermione’s opinion; that a student with her whole life ahead of her would have that stolen away in order to churn out babies for the ‘good of the wizarding world’. She didn’t worry so much about the adult witches; they could handle themselves for now, but the young ones didn’t seem to know where to go or who to turn to.

“And Thomas, you’re a student as well? That’s how the two of you met?”

“Yes. I’m only going to be a sixth year, though.”

“I see. That could present a problem. You both realize that to go into hiding you’ll need to leave school behind unless the law is repealed before the start of term? What houses are you in?”

“Ravenclaw, both of us,” said Carolyn.

“And you have no reservations about leaving your classes if you need to?”

Carolyn chewed her lip. “Well, N.E.W.T.s are coming up this year and I would really hate to miss those. But, but – I’m not ready for marriage. That would be worse.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to choose between the two!” said Hermione firmly. “That’s what we’re all about here. But until we get this law repealed, our best bet is to send the two of you into hiding. Now, you didn’t tell anyone you were coming here, did you?”

Both students shook their heads.

“Good. You can return to your homes for the rest of your holiday. There will be no need to go into hiding immediately. With any luck, the law will no longer exist by the time Carolyn turns eighteen. In the mean time, do not answer any petitions that arrive. Tell the Ministry you have until your eighteenth birthday to decide. If the law is not repealed, return to school as if everything is normal. I’ll have Harry send for both of you the last week in September. You remember Harry Potter from Hogwarts, don’t you?” They both shook their heads adamantly and Hermione felt a bit silly, realizing that they would know whom Harry was regardless of where they went to school. “Good, I thought so. That is – I’m assuming the two of you would like to stay together?”

“Oh, yes,” said Carolyn.

“Definitely!” said Thomas.

“How very Romeo and Juliet.” Snape was standing in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee, derisive sneer plastered across his face. ‘Where did he get coffee?’ she wondered, suddenly realizing just how much she missed her morning cuppa.

“Professor Snape!” Thomas’s jaw dropped and he shot a panicked look at the professor and then plastered his gaze back on Hermione.

“I would take points from Ravenclaw for looking like a rather unattractive guppy, Mr. Rendell-Grace, but fortunately for you, there is still a month left before the term begins.”

“Wh-what are you doing here, Professor?” asked Carolyn in a very weak voice.

Snape turned his predatory gaze on her and Hermione watched her peripheral vision turn red. There was no way she was going to allow him to verbally abuse and intimidate these students at her safe house.

“Why Carolyn,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Professor Snape is here for the same reason you are. You know, it’s not just muggle-borns who find themselves getting the short end of the stick with this law.” She could almost see the embarrassment glowing on Snape’s face out of the corner of her eye. “Even purebloods need the protection of M.U.F.F.”

Snape choked loudly on a mouthful of coffee and Hermione looked over to see him wiping it off the front of his coat. He raised his eyes to glare at her momentarily before returning to his task.

“So,” she said, squelching her grin and turning back to the pair at the table, “you brought a Portkey to return yourselves home?”

Carolyn pulled out a large, shiny coin.

“Very good. Then if you have no further questions, you are free to go.”

They both looked nervously at Snape before turning their attention back to Hermione.

“Thank you very much, Miss Granger,” said Thomas.

“Yes, thank you.”

A few minutes later, they were gone and Hermione turned furiously to Snape, who stood watching her, fully expecting the onslaught of vicious words.

“How dare you treat them like that? I don’t care if they are your students! You had no right to intimidate them when they were coming here to find safety! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Snape watched her with amusement, wondering how it happened that she could sound so much like Molly Weasley on a bad day.

“M.U.F.F., Miss Granger?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Muggle-born Underground Freedom Flight. Is there a problem, Professor?”

“None at all,” he said, cradling his coffee mug in both hands. “I’ll just leave you to your Muff.” Spinning on his heel before she could utter another word, he returned to the broken down kitchen.

Hermione felt her cheeks burn red. How could she not have noticed that? She knew that S.P.E.W.’s name was rather unfortunate, but she kept it if only to spite Harry and Ron and their constant teasing. But this, this was much worse…And leave it to Snape to point that out to her. She had a vivid flashback to the insult he threw at her when her teeth were accidentally hexed in her fourth year.

Well, she wasn’t going to let him get the best of her, not this time. Even if he did need her help, she was not going to give him the upper hand. If they were going to share this house, either she would be the one calling the shots, or it would be a relationship of equanimity. She doubted if the latter was even possible with Snape. Deciding to ignore his crass comment, she followed him into the kitchen.

“Where did you get the coffee?” she asked.

“I had the House Elves deliver it,” he sneered, setting his empty cup on the counter and brushing past her out of the room.

“I was asking a serious question,” she said, rushing to catch up with him.

He reached the other end of the cottage and spun to face her, attempting to hide the fact that he actually had no place to go and nothing to do at the moment.

“I’m a wizard, Miss Granger, where do you think I got it? Is that intelligent mind of yours no longer functional?”

“I’ve never heard of any spells to make coffee,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Alert the media! The spell simply must not exist if Hermione Granger has never heard of it.”

She growled in annoyance. “I don’t have time for this. I only wanted to let you know there are sandwiches in my bag if you get hungry. I haven’t seen you eat a thing since you arrived yesterday and I assumed you must be starving.”

She left the room quickly, returning to her work for M.U.F.F., which was in serious danger of getting a swift name change.

Hermione worked diligently until late in the evening, sending poor Hedwig – on loan from Harry – out over and over with apologetic letters to muggle-born witches, telling them that she would do her best to locate more safe houses, but for the time being, she could only advise them not to answer any marriage requests. The unbearable sexism of the law was grating on her nerves so badly (after all, why couldn’t the witches be the ones to request their choice of a husband?) by the end of the evening that she finally dismissed Hedwig with an extra crust of bread and slumped over her makeshift desk, pounding her forehead against the tabletop a few times for good measure.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Last night she slept on the smelly old sofa in the living room. Snape had gone upstairs to sleep and she wanted to avoid him at all cost. She thought that perhaps tonight she would screw up her courage and claim an upstairs bedroom for herself. Her plan never reached completion, though, as she fell asleep with her cheek pressed against the inky parchment beneath her head.

When she woke up in darkness several hours later, there was a steaming hot cup of coffee sitting next to her list of names.



~~~