A/N: Regarding the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge

I attempted (and failed) to find the precise rules of the Marriage Law Challenge, so I just used the gist of it as I picked it up from other Marriage Law fics and discussions about it I saw on mailing lists. I think the challenge might actually be over, so I don't feel as badly about buggering it for the cause.

Here's what I understand it to be:

The Purebloods have interbred exclusively for so long that they're starting to have the same problems as royal families that do this. Lots o' Squibs, etc. Thus, Fudge passes The Marriage Law, that requires Muggleborns to marry Purebloods and make babies. I gather there's usually some kind of magical incentive in there, but people seem to pick different ones, so I figured that was up for grabs and added the nasty House-Elf Binding, the Unforgivables, etc.

Many thanks to RowanRhys for defending me against the threat of harm to my person if this turned into a Snape/Hermione story. As she pointed out, it's clearly labeled as one.

The FFnet/LnLS chapter discrepancy that has been pointed out is because I was not yet a validated author at LnLS. As of posting this, it looks like I am now, so chapters will be appearing at the same time.

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"Anthony, Anthony, wait..." Hermione stopped Anthony Goldstein's hand at the brink of disaster. "The rose leaves go in first."

"Oh. Yeah. Uh, thanks, Hermione."

"No problem."

Hermione circled the room, trying her damndest not to loom. "Parvati? You need to mince those a little finer."

Parvati shot her an irritated look, and Hermione groaned inwardly. This was too weird. Hermione was trying like hell to be nice -- if anything, just to prove you could teach this class without being an absolute ass...

"Malfoy? What the hell do you think strain means?"

Except that she wasn't doing such a good job.

Draco gave her a lazy once-over. "I'd say 'strain' was having four days to convince Ron Weasley that I wasn't a massive whore."

"Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione spat. "And from now on, kindly remember that when I am teaching, the lesson is not coming out of my nipples."

It wasn't fair. She hadn't slept, she'd been sick, she had wizards who made Dumbledore look nubile sending her photos of their naughty bits...

"Ernie? You'll blow us all to bits if you add that now."

Whatever Ernie muttered, Hermione had a feeling it wasn't complimentary, and her eyes narrowed.

She'd have an easier time being nice if they didn't keep screwing up all the time. Honestly! The potion was so simple if you'd just follow the instructions!

Hermione looked down at her wristwatch and let out a sigh of relief.

"All right, everyone, pack up," she announced, sitting down in Snape's chair and rubbing her temples... hearing a titter of laughter in the back of the classroom.

Of course. This is what Snape always does at the end of class...

Hermione carefully changed her posture, trying to look an Unsnapeish as possible, trying not to flinch as Parvati hissed "Sheesh, she's like his clone..." to Ernie as they packed up their cauldrons.

Oh, you think I'm his clone now, Parvati? Wait and see if I ever have to do this again...

Hermione caught herself, blanching at the thoughts in her head, remembering something from an old Muggle movie... anger will lead you to the Dark Side...

I. Am. Not. Like. Snape.

When the classroom finally emptied, Hermione heaved a sigh of relief, gathering jars of ingredients onto a tray and heading back into Snape's storeroom. Heaven help her if she put anything back in the wrong place; of course, Snape made it easy, with his neatly-labeled jars, his alphabetical organization, his color-coded labels to warn of effects. She couldn't have done it better herself.

Hermione cast a quick Scourgify on the floor, glancing around, making sure everything was where it needed to be... and her eye caught a graceful silver bowl, lying atop a desk.

If you'll excuse me, I have some business with my Pensieve if I'm to make it through class without vomiting...

She'd thought he was just trying to hurt her feelings... had he honestly put away the mental pictures he'd had to conjure up for Ron?

What had he been thinking about?

She took a step forward, then stopped herself.

That's his private business. Besides, for all you know, you could find yourself stuck in a memory of getting Cruciatus cast on you by Voldemort... Merlin only knows what he keeps in there, what he wants out of his head...

On the other hand... if Ron didn't come around...

Snape was one of her options... a totally mysterious, unknown option...

Oughtn't she find out what she could be getting herself into?

Don't do it, Hermione...

Hermione pulled out her wand.

Don't do it, Hermione...

Hermione stuck her wand into the Pensieve and stirred...

---

She was in a dark room, somewhere she knew...

Grimmauld Place.

Harry slept, unaware, in one of the twin beds, his messy hair stuck out all over the pillow...

And Snape watched him from the doorway, silently, a look of...

Oh, she'd never seen Snape look at Harry like that.

Hell, she'd never seen Snape look at anyone like that.

That was how Lupin looked at Harry, how Molly looked at Harry, how Sirius used to look at Harry... that fierce, protective, caring...

What the hell?

Snape murmured something and turned from the doorway back into the hall...

---

She was in Dumbledore's office, watching Snape and Dumbledore laugh themselves silly over something, Snape nearly bent over from mirth, Dumbledore chuckling and throwing a sherbert lemon in the air to catch it on his tongue...

---

She was in Madame Pomfrey's infirmary, watching Snape pace among the beds. She recognized the petrified forms upon them... Colin Creevey, herself...

"Dammit, Granger," Snape whispered, and reached down to move a lock of her hair away from her face...

---

Snape was in his office, offering her a biscuit, giving her the potion...

---

Snape was muttering furiously, his eyes locked on Harry, trying to undo the hex on Harry's broom...

---

Snape was in his office, reading an essay... the handwriting revealed it to be hers... and sat back in his chair, a look of pure pleasure across his face...

---

Snape, Flitwick, Quirrell, and McGonagall, having a... picnic? Quirrell's voice was completely different, smooth and sure, his long brown hair flowing free behind him. Snape made a snarky comment, and the other three teachers burst out laughing...

---

Snape running through the tunnel in the Shrieking Shack to save them from Sirius Black...

---

Hermione yanked her wand out of the Pensieve, breathing hard. Why... what the...

Everything in there was good! She'd expected horrid memories, Death Eater meetings...

This is everything Snape doesn't want Voldemort to see.

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth. If Snape's Occulmency ever failed...

He's been removing all his good memories, all his happy memories, all memories of him being nice or caring or concerned. If Voldemort breaks into his mind, all he'll see is Snape being horrid to Harry, horrid to everyone...

Oh my God.

Hermione sat down heavily, trying to imagine living her life with every happy memory removed from her head. It'd be like being under a Dementor attack, all the time...

What if he's horrid to you because he needs to be, Hermione? What if he's such a wretched ass because he needs those memories, lots of them, to make up for everything he's taking out? Voldemort would suspect something if Snape blocked his Legilimency completely, wouldn't he? Snape needs real memories to feed him, memories of Harry suffering at Snape's hands, memories that will make Voldemort happy...

But this wasn't what Harry had seen in Snape's Pensieve at all! Harry had seen horrid things, seen his father and Sirius torturing Snape, seen...

Hermione blinked.

Wait a damn minute.

Why would Snape not want Harry to see that? If Snape hated Sirius, hated James, why wouldn't he want Harry to hate them too? Harry had been so confused, so angry, so conflicted after he saw that memory... wouldn't that be exactly what Snape would want?

And yet he took it out.

Hermione wanted to see it. Was it still in there?

Hermione stuck her wand in, stirring, trying to set her mind on it...

---

"Severus. Tell me you're kidding."

Hermione really was confused now. That was a younger Snape, she guessed... he looked to be even younger than her... but the woman he was having the hushed conversation with looked for all the world like Tonks...

And they were in the Muggle World, some sort of pub, and the Tonks-who-wasn't was pushing a pram back and forth with her foot.

"I'm not, Andromeda. I'm the only one who can get in. You'll need a different Secret-Keeper."

"Severus, it is too dangerous. You're too young..."

"I'm the only one who can get in."

"They're going to be so confused, Severus," Andromeda said mournfully. "And Lily..."

"Potter will take care of her."

"Severus, you're not seriously going to..."

"Potter will take care of her. Andy, I've got to go."

The young Snape stood up and kissed the woman on the temple...

---

CRASH!

The young Snape dodged an ink bottle hurled at his head, black smearing all over a stone wall...

"Your aim is lousy, Mudblood," Snape said coldly.

"I HATE YOU!" screamed a redheaded girl, her hands curled into furious fists. A prefect's badge glittered on her Gryffindor robes.

"Then I suppose I should leave," Snape purred. "Good day, Evans."

"Burn in hell, Snape!"

"Oh... I'm sure I will."

The redhead started sobbing, turning away from him, unable to see the look of longing that crossed Snape's face...

---

A step in the hallway.

Hermione yanked her wand out of the Pensieve, hurriedly stuffing it back in her robes. She was over by a shelf of ingredients when McGonagall swished into the office.

"Hello, Miss Granger... how was class?"

Act normal, Hermione...

"It was fine, but I'm starting to understand why Snape loses his temper so often."

Well, that's true. Truer than I ever thought it would be, but true...

McGonagall's mouth twitched. "Indeed? Well, I see you've tidied up to Professor Snape's standards, I really shouldn't have bothered checking. Can I walk you to dinner?"

Hermione resisted the urge to glance longingly at the Pensieve. "Thank you, Professor."

---

"What's this?" McGonagall asked, one eyebrow soaring.

They hadn't even reached the Great Hall yet, and already boisterous singing could be heard.

"I believe that's... um... 'Weasley Is Our King', Professor."

"So it is, Miss Granger. So it is."

"I'm... uh... suddenly not so hungry, Professor. I think I'll just head up to the Tower."

"Miss Granger, you've skipped every meal for days. Your absence is only making the rumors worse, you know."

"Right." Hermione gulped as McGonagall glided through the doors...

"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed.

Hermione flinched... then her eyes widened as Ron came galloping up to her, and threw his arms around her.

"Ron?"

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I am, I've been such a prat, what I said was utter crap, your teeth are fantastic, honestly... you won't believe it!"

"Won't believe what?"

"I've been signed! By the Cannons!"

"What?"

"I've been signed by the Cannons! I'm going to be their new Keeper! Hermione, isn't it amazing?"

"That's -- that's amazing, Ron..."

"We're having a party up in the Common Room after dinner. You'll help me pack, right? You're the utter best at that..."

"P-pack?"

"I'm leaving school. I'm starting training. Mum's a bit pissed, but honestly, like I was gonna pull a Percy on my NEWTs, right?"

"You're... you're leaving?"

"Oh, Hermione, right... don't worry. I talked to Dumbledore, he's going to set us up a Portkey, you won't have to come with me unless you want to, I know how you are about the NEWTs. He gave me another marriage bid, too, I'll sign it before I leave. I'm sorry I worried you... honestly, I am... I just... well, I guess you know now that I kind of..."

"Weasley, check it out!"

Someone had conjured an illusion of Ron riding his broom, in full Chudley Cannons regalia. It soared around the Great Hall, ducking and weaving through the masses of red-and-gold fireworks.

Hermione gave Ron a big hug. "Ron, that's fantastic, really. I'm going to get something to eat, okay?"

"Right, straight. Oh, Hermione, eat a lot -- Harry's sneaking into Hogsmeade for Butterbeer..."

Hermione nodded numbly, weaving her way through the singing, exultant Gryffindors to the only vacant spot at the Gryffindor table...

Oh, no.

Right next to Dorcas Longbottom.

"Hermione!" Dorcas squealed. "Isn't it lovely about Ron? You must be chuffed! Have a seat!"

Hermione sat down heavily, reaching for her pumpkin juice.

"You know, Neville always said Ron was fantastic at Quidditch. You must be so excited about getting to go on the road with the Cannons!"

"I'm not," Hermione said flatly, spooning Shepherd's Pie onto her plate. "I'm staying here until I finish school."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm not."

"Well..." Dorcas sighed. "I suppose that makes sense. I suppose you wouldn't feel the same way about Ron as I feel about Neville... after all, Neville's so perfect. I couldn't imagine being away from Neville that long, honestly... I was going to sit with my own house, y'know, but I just felt so bereft, so far away from Neville..."

"You felt bereft... twenty feet away?"

Dorcas gave her an all-knowing smile. "Oh, Hermione. When it's true love, you feel bereft five feet away. If you loved Ron as much as I love Neville, you'd want to follow the team."

"I want to take my NEWTs."

"Well... you wouldn't. That's all I'm saying..." Dorcas' eyes narrowed. "Why is Parvati hugging Neville?"

"Everybody's hugging everybody..."

"Excuse me," Dorcas snapped, swinging off the bench and stalking towards Parvati.

Hermione stared into her plate, her mouth suddenly dry, the thought of food suddenly nauseating.