The Rules of Engagement

Well, here is the next chapter. Yes, I know and a long time coming it was, but that can’t be helped.

Many thanks to buttercup and jedikeladry for their beta services. (I just hope the welts are in places that don’t show ~_* )

Anyway, enjoy !!

Glinda

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A while back :
Semperputus asked : “But am Curious what made you choose Welsh??? (Gwaed Trosglwddiadau?) being a resident of cymru I was instantly intrigued So please tell me. Cymreag is a strange language at the best of times but I think It fits in well,”


That is an excellent question and one I actually have an answer for. Within my version of the HP world most spells are in Latin, we have seen this in canon. But I go one step farther and bring in a religious element that is hinted at in canon. In my version, Merlin is held in high esteem as a great and possibly the first wizard. Stories of Merlin come from the Arthurian Legends and those tales come from an old Welsh text called the ‘Mabinogion’ (\'tale of a hero\'s boyhood\'). The ‘Mabinogion’ is a masterpiece of medieval literature, it is regarded by many as Wales\'s greatest contribution to European literature.

To read more on The ‘Mabinogion’
http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/history/sites/myths-customs/pages/myth-mabintro.shtml


So, I find it only fitting that older religious ceremonies be referred to in Welsh. I am sure to anyone that truly speaks the language, I am butchering it badly, but I use a couple of online Welsh/English dictionaries and my limited knowledge of Latin to help me out.

We will be seeing more Welsh in the bonding ceremony.

Hope that answers the question.

Glinda

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Bugaboo


Usually, awakening from a sound night’s sleep would have one relaxed, Hermione was anything but. Barely breathing, she listened to the room trying to discern if she was alone. Finally not hearing anyone moving about, she opened her eyes and carefully looked over her shoulder to make certain she was alone in the large bed. Sunbeams poured mockingly onto the blankets of empty space next to her. The young woman sat up with a groan and placed her head firmly in her hands.

‘Bloody bleeding Merlin ! What the hell have I done?’ she thought as painful memories from the previous night’s activities flooded her brain. She had behaved like the worst Knockturn Alley whore. Her eyes squeezed shut at the images running through her head of the man sprawled naked before her, his lips parted in passion as he pleasured himself, while watching her do the same. Groaning with a very memory, she knew Severus would never respect her now. He probably left sometime in the night, too disgusted to sleep in the same bed with her. Severus Snape was a man of decorum, if nothing else, not a man to display himself the way Hermione had talked him into doing in this very bed.

Somewhere between the groans and the mental flogging, her Gryffindor side took over and she realised she had to face her fiancé. Getting up, she mustered what dignity she could, showered and dressed. Hermione was just slipping her wand back into her pocket after removing the Silencing Charm, when she heard a low growl in the hallway - a growl that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and not in a bad way.

Opening the door a bit and as quietly as possible, Hermione peered out to see Annya down and across the hall facing her, leaning against the wall outside of her room with Remus pressed up behind her, running his nose along the side of her neck. Hermione held her breath. The werebitch’s eyes were closed as she appeared to be enjoying the attentions of the werewolf. A soft whimper escaped the blonde, answered by a low thrum from the fair-haired man. Remus’ dark pink tongue flicked out and tasted the pale skin of the woman he was holding. He pushed her dressing gown off her shoulder and nibbled gently on the exposed skin. The actions of the mated werewolves were causing a warming sensation in the pit of Hermione’s stomach and she sighed softly.

Remus’ head snapped up and Annya’s eyes opened both pinning Hermione in place. She opened her door more widely and stepped out into the hallway prepared to apologize, but Remus excused himself and all but fled down the stairs. Annya watched him go, disappointment evident on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione offered, not knowing what else to say. Annya sighed deeply, but looked back at her with a faint smile.

“It’s all right. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that that is the closest he’s come to acting the way he should be, since I’ve been here. I think maybe the chemistry between you and the Professor got his blood up a little,”

“Chem . . .? Between Severus and I?” The young woman stuttered as her cheeks began to glow. Annya righted her robe with a laugh and nodded for Hermione to follow her into her room.

Annya was in one of the smaller bedrooms, but it had a connecting door to the adjoining room. Hermione wanted to ask why they were not sleeping in the same room - that would surely speed up the progression of the mating - but she stayed silent and watched the older woman finish dressing.

“You can ask whatever you like, you know. You won’t offend me,” Annya was sitting at the vanity, just finishing putting her hair band in place, when she turned and looked at the younger woman.

“It just seems rude to ask such questions.”

Annya’s crisp infectious laugh sound through the bedroom. “You’re thinking like a human. Werewolves aren’t so sensitive,”

“The only werewolf I’ve known is Remus.”

“Yes,” the blonde sighed a little sadly. “He’s spent too long without proper contact with his kind. Remus clings to his humanity. It’s holding him back,” Those oddly hypnotic green eyes looked up at Hermione and for the first time showed real worry. “I don’t know what to do. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I should have sent one of the older werebitches. They’d know how to handle this better,”

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed facing the other woman. “Remus likes you, I can tell. Keep trying. Maybe it will be better when we leave today. Remy always has been very private. When you’re alone, it will be better, I think.”

Annya nodded her head. “Maybe,” She took a deep breath. “So, ask your questions.”

Hermione laughed, then tried to decide where to begin. “Do you like Remus?”

Green eyes opened wider, clearly surprised by the question. “Yes, of course I do. I’ve looked up to him for years.”

“But you’ve only known him a few days. You’ve read about him, I know, but that‘s just what was in the papers,” Hermione watched her words sink into the other woman. “Just as you had only read about Harry, but he wasn’t anything like you expected, was he?”

“No, not really. So you . . . Is this what Remus thinks, too?”

“I believe . . . and I could be wrong, but I believe Remus feels he’s taking advantage of you. If I can be plain . . .?” Hermione said, trying to read the other woman’s eyes.

“Yes. Please,” the blonde said, leaning forward and watching Hermione curiously.

“Your ‘hero worship’ doesn’t sit well with him. He really is a wonderful man, but he’s modest. I think both of you need to start over and get to know each other without the preconceived notions.”

Quiet pervaded the room as Annya thought over what Hermione had said. “You could be right, but then what do I do? I’ve made a complete mess of things. I should never have come. I should have sent Marguerite. She’s much prettier and more experienced.” Annya looked down at her clasped hands and Hermione felt bad for her.

“But Remus accepted you; that has to mean something. And like I said, I get the feeling he really does like you. Maybe you two just need to have a good talk. Sort of work things out.” Annya raised her head and nodded.

“What about you and the Professor? Have a good time last night?”

Hermione felt her face flush and she got up, suddenly very interested in the view from the window. “We . . . . um . . . . yes.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Hermione. I just thought since you put up the Silencing Charm maybe you two had . . . . some fun.”

Hermione turned to speak, but nothing came out.

“Forget it, we better get down to breakfast anyway,” Annya stood and Hermione was grateful the other woman had not pressed her for details, but now that she had brought it up, the mortification was coming back. Silently, she followed the werebitch down the stairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Hermione left Annya in the front parlor with the werewolf, as it seemed she wished to waste no time having that talk with Remus. Peering into the dinning room, Hermione didn’t see Severus and assumed he was in the kitchen with Wubby. Walking through the door, she was shocked to see the Potions Master standing at the counter, with a whisk in one hand and holding a bowl in the other. Wubby was nowhere to be seen. She walked over to the counter to watch her fiancé at work. He seemed intent on his task and it was just as well.

“I see you have finally arisen,” Severus said, never missing a beat. Hermione didn’t answer. Dark eyes turned to her as his hands continued their work. “You slept well?”

She made herself look him in the eye, but then her gaze returned to his actions. “Um, yes, quite well,” she said trying to carry off an air of normalcy. When the truth was, looking into his face had brought back the memory of his head thrown back with a look of pure ecstasy on his features. The pit of her stomach crashed down into the pulsing that began between her legs. There must have been a hint of something in her voice, because he set down his work and turned his full attention on her.

“Are you . . . upset by what transpired?” Brown eyes shot up immediately and were held by dark ones.

“Are you?” Hermione lobed back. His manner became uneasy and his eyes shifted to the counter.

“I admit, that . . . those actions were not what I had in mind,” he said. Hermione looked away, no longer able to look at him. “But they were, nonetheless, enjoyable.”

“It was?” she said with wonder, looking back up again. Severus scanned her face, his gaze traveling down her body briefly, then he swallowed thickly and went back to his work.

“I would ask that you not discuss our . . . private time with your friends. I am still their professor.”

“I won’t,” she said with more than a little relief that the subject seemed closed. “Where’s Wubby?” the young Gryffindor asked, not seeing the elf in her usual surroundings.

“She is hiding in her room sulking, as she always does, when I wish to cook. Care to assist me?” Severus asked.

“Me?” Hermione gasped. “I don’t know how to cook.”

Barely suppressing a grin, Severus handed her a bowl and pointed towards the eggs. “I believe with your aptitude at Potions, we will survive the experience.”

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Breakfast that morning was eaten in near silence, with little sound aside from the clinking of fork to plate. Severus finished his eggs, which were admittedly a bit runny, but Hermione had made them herself. He wiped his mouth and looked across the table at the werebitch, whose eyes were cocked to the side watching the werewolf. The sexual tension between them this morning was nearly tangible. The professor’s gaze fell to the young woman beside him, but he had to close his eyes. Just remembering the vision she presented him last night, the tone of her voice when she had called out his name as her pleasure peaked. Severus readjusted in his chair, then his eyes snapped up when he heard a soft giggle from across the table. Eyes the color of weathered copper smiled at him as the blonde placed a finger aside her nose, making dark eyes narrow in return. Remus breathed deeply and looked up, a grin breaking out on his face.

“We should be leaving,” Severus said in a clipped voice. Hermione raised her head as if she had missed something.

“I thought the two of you might stay. Enjoy some time together,” the fair-haired man said with a barely repressed smile. The werewolf was looking healthier, but Severus still found him annoying. He was saved from responding by the appearance of Tinker popping in holding an envelope.

“What is it, Tinker?” the lord of the manor asked.

“Tinker has a letter, Master. A letter for the wolf miss,” The small creature said, already on his way to hand the letter to Annya.

“Her name is Miss Leonov, Tinker. You are to show my guests proper respect,” Severus snapped. He felt Hermione’s eyes cut to the side, glaring at him, but he ignored her.

“Yes, Master. Of course, Master,” Tinker replied, while bowing and looking much chagrined.

“It’s my fault, Severus,” the young woman across the table interjected. “I asked him not to call me that, meaning to call me by my first name. I’m not too used to house-elves,” the blonde shrugged casually at him, then went about opening her letter.

“Forgive me, Tinker. You may call her Annya.”

The corners of Tinker’s large mouth curved up into a grin, his large Bludger-like eyes caught the lord of the manor’s and relayed that all was forgiven, just before he disappeared with a pop. Severus sighed quietly and went back to his breakfast.

“Hmmm,” Annya murmured softly across the table. Remus was already staring at the young woman, but it was Hermione who spoke up.

“Everything alright?” the Gryffindor asked.

“It’s from Henri,” Annya answered, biting her lip gently. The werewolf beside her seeming to bristle.

“Problems?” Severus asked.

“Well, Igor is pissed that I’ll be gone so long, but I can handle him” she said. “It’s Walter,”

A low growl sounded in the room. Annya turned to look at the source, the corners of her lips turning up slightly and a glint of amusement in her eye.

“Who is Walter?” Hermione asked with her usual curiosity. Annya explained briefly Walter’s duties and parentage. The werewolf visibly relaxed.

“Walter’s depended on me since I started working at Durmstrang. He used to be very shy and introverted,” the werebitch explained, to which Severus gave an unbelieving snort. “He may be big, Severus, but he’s still a boy. He’s afraid and pretty much alone in the world.”

The blonde’s eyes were shining and moist as she looked back at her letter. Severus could see she was truly worried. Annya did not seem the type of woman to fret without cause. Remus placed a hand gently on her arm.

“You should return home,” Remus said. Annya lifted her head, a single fat tear meandered down her cheek as she looked aghast at the man beside her.

“No! Remus, you’ll die,” They held each other’s gaze.

“Why couldn’t he go with you?” Hermione asked, as if her elders had gone dotty. Said elders turned their attention to her. “Well, he’s so much better now.”

Severus sat back with his arms crossed and regarded the werewolf couple. “Indeed. Why not?”

“Do you think he’s well enough?” Annya asked.

“Lupin is well enough to apparate himself. I would take you myself,” Severus clarified.

“Would you?” she asked, turning an earnest look to the werewolf. Amber eyes scanned her young face.

“If that is your wish. You are giving yourself to save me. I am in your debt,”

“Oh, Remus !! Don’t ruin a lovely gesture with that kind of talk,” the blonde said happily, throwing her arms around the fair haired man’s neck. Lupin looked shocked, but his arms soon encircled the young woman and he closed his eyes, a small smile appearing on his face.

“As soon as you are packed, we can leave,” The lord of the manor said, then he turned his attention to his fiancé. “Would you prefer I took you back to Hogwarts or would you prefer to wait here?”

Hermione smiled warmly, her bright face causing a jolt to his system. “I think there is more than enough in the library to keep me busy.”

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In the Gryffindor Common Room, curled up in a comfy chair by the fire, the Head Girl smiled to herself as she stared into the fire. The indignant look on her fiancé’s face when she was leaving his class flashed into her mind, making her want to giggle.

From what she could gather from the hushed conversation behind her in Potions class, Severus had found Draco and Neville in the supply cupboard in a . . . compromising position. The professor had glared at the pair through the entire class and even delivered a less severe glare to her. She had almost laughed out loud, but thought better of it. Severus was keeping their secret, even though he looked as if he would love to give Neville and Draco both detention for a month.

Hermione lifted her head and surveyed the room. In a chair on the far side of the room, the youngest Weasley was asleep with a book lying precariously on her lap. Cindy Travers and Yvonne de Musey were getting up and heading for the second-year girl’s dorm, leaving the room quiet and nearly empty.

Settling in, she wondered briefly how Remus and Annya were getting on and if the mating was going better now that they were in mating quarters near Durmstrang. She hoped so. Annya was fun, just the kind of woman Remus needed. The werebitch seemed to instinctively know what Remus needed. As well she should, Hermione thought.

Sighing and resting against the back of the chair, the bride-to-be contemplated her future. The plans for the bonding ceremony were going well. Mum had been a really big help in finalizing the list and getting invitations addressed, even though most would be sent by owl. Most aspects of the ceremony had been decided upon. Severus had already asked the Headmaster to perform the bonding and asked Remus to stand with him. A frown began to form on her face. Who would stand for her? Draco was her best friend, but they couldn’t risk exposing him. He probably wouldn’t even be able to attend the ceremony, she realized. She could ask Ginny, she supposed. Glancing over at the sleeping redhead, Hermione tried to decide whether the youngest Weasley was a good choice. She closed her eyes, thinking it over. Several minutes later, the portrait door opened, but she paid it little mind.

“Night, Hermione. Don’t let me find you here in the morning,” the familiar voice giggled. The Head Girl’s eyes snapped open and were met by bright, amused brown eyes. Hermione looked across the room at the sleeping form still resting in the chair, then stood to confront the very awake person before her.

The younger girl froze with wide eyes, staring down Hermione’s wand pointed at her throat. “Who are you?” the brunette snapped.

“Hermione, it’s me. Ginny,” the girl said, pulling at her collar nervously. Hermione’s eyes caught the glint of gold around the girl’s neck. With battle-sharpened speed, she pulled the glittering chain out into the firelight and exposed the device at the end. Lowering her wand, Hermione stood in disbelief.

“Into my room. Now,” the Head Girl directed. She didn’t want to wake the sleeping Ginny. When they were in her room and the door closed, she turned to see a very determined young woman looking levelly back at her.

“Why do you have a Time-Turner?”

“Dad sent it to me.”

“Are you taking extra classes? Is that why you’re so tired all the time?”

“No, I’m not taking extra classes,” the redhead looked at her as if she were mentally deficient.

“Then why, for the love of Merlin, are you using a Time-Turner. You do realize that’s what’s got me into this marriage predicament in the first place,”

“It’s you that gave me the idea,” Ginny said, as if it were a matter of course.

“What idea?” Hermione snapped.

“Of how to be old enough in time.”

“In time for what?” the brunette demanded.

“To petition for Harry,” Ginny snarled out. Hermione’s knees buckled and she plopped down in a chair as if she had been pushed. Wide-eyed she looked up to see Ginny standing with her arms crossed gazing challengingly down at her.

“But . . . but you aren’t even speaking to Harry. Why would you . . . .?”

“Why would I petition for him since he broke up with me?”

“Broke up?” Hermione gasped bewildered, then suddenly it all made sense. “THAT is what you two were arguing about, isn’t it?”

The redhead’s face clouded with emotion. “Yes”, she said before sitting in the other chair.

“Harry said he couldn’t bear to carry on as we had been. We had been seeing each other secretly since last term, but he didn’t want anyone to know about it. He thought I might be targeted if it was common knowledge I was his girlfriend,” the girl swiped angrily at an errant tear that dared roll down her softly freckled cheek.

“When you got your petitions . . . . . . . I guess it just hit Harry really hard. He knew he would turn eighteen before I turned seventeen. He said it hurt him too much to be with me and know he would have to marry someone else. But . . . “ she said with a fire in her eyes, “when you turned 18 early and I learned you had used a Time-Turner, I saw how I could be older in time.”

“But . . . . . you haven’t told Harry?”

“No,” she said emphatically, shaking her fiery locks. “And you mustn’t tell him either, Hermione. Promise me.”

“Ginny . . . ,”

“Hermione, please, you must promise not to talk to Harry about any of this. If he knew . . . ..he’d demand I stop using the time turner or he’d find a way to take it away or break it altogether.”

Hermione thought about how Harry might react to news that Ginny was purposely wasting a portion of her life . . . . . . for him. Ginny was right, he’d demand she stop using the device. Even if it meant they could not be together in the end.

“Are you certain this is what you want to do?” Hermione asked her woman to woman. A small smile broke out on Ginny’s face, even as more tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I love him, Hermione. I always have. How could I live if he was forced to marry another woman? To have children with her?”

“Has Harry said he loves you?”

The youngest Weasley fidgeted in her chair. “Well . . . . . no. He’s been very careful to avoid saying it to me. But I know him. I can see it in his eyes.”

“Why wouldn’t he say it?”

“Because everyone that Harry’s loved has died. Well . . . . except you and Ron.”

Hermione took all this in and tried to make some sense of it. Now that she thought about it, Harry had never said he loved her or Ron or anyone else for that matter. That realization of her friend’s fear pained her. Even with Voldemort dead, Harry was still fighting demons.

“So . . . . . . your father agrees with this scheme?” A broad smile spread across Ginny’s face.

“Dad is overjoyed. You know he loves Harry like a son. He requisitioned the time turner from the Ministry and has already written the petition, ready to owl off,” she giggled. “He hasn’t told Mum yet, though. Thinks she’ll be too happy, apparate up here and make a fuss.”

Both women had a knowing, but loving chuckle at Molly’s expense. As Hermione looked at her, Ginny nearly glowed with happiness at finally being able to talk about her plans. She was happy for her and for Harry. Harry. He’d been so depressed of late and now it all made sense.

“Ginny . . . . . You need to find a way to talk to Harry. Your not speaking to him really hurts.”

The younger girl sighed. “I know, but I’m afraid if I’m around him too much, he’ll figure out what I’m doing.”

“Well . . . . . ,” Hermione said, getting an idea.

“Yes . . . ,” Ginny asked in a conspiratorial fashion.

“I do have some experience with a Time-Turner,” Hermione said, sitting forward in her enthusiasm. “I can help you work out a schedule, so you get enough rest, won’t be discovered and will be 17 well before Harry’s birthday.”

“Would you?”

“Yes. IF you talk to Harry. At least say you will start talking to him again AND sitting with us at meals. We miss you. There’s no one there to cuff Ron when he needs it.” Both young women laughed, then got to work on a proper schedule for Ginny.


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At breakfast the next morning, Ginny was as good as her word and sat across from Hermione, looking happier than she had in a long time. They were the first to arrive to their section of the table, so chatted quietly. A little while later Ron trod through the Great Hall doors with Harry sleepily on his heels. Harry looked up as they walked toward their usual part of the Gryffindor table and stopped in his tracks, green eyes locked on Ginny. Ron continued on, seeming too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice his sister, and plopped down next to Hermione. Harry sat on the other side of her, across from Ginny, a moment later.

“Is it alright . . . if I sit here?” Harry asked the redhead quietly. She smiled gently, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“Don’t be daft!” Ginny scolded mockingly. Harry smiled broadly for the first time a long time and Hermione was happy to see it.

Looking next to her, Hermione watched as Ron mechanically filled his plate, his mind appearing to be far away.

“You okay, Ron?” Hermione asked. He blinked, glanced at her, then picked up his fork, ready to attack his food.

“Ah . . . yeah. Fine,” Ron said, then set about eating, but lacking his usual gusto. Hermione frowned, but turned back to her tea. She glanced up to the head table and caught the eye of the potions master as he was talking to Bill. Professor Weasley, she reminded herself. Severus gave her his customary slight nod and continued his conversation. With a small contented sigh, Hermione picked up her toast and started spreading marmalade on it.

“RONALD BILIOUS WEASLEY !!” a voice shouted in the hall, causing the entire room to fall silent.

Hermione heard Ron swallow audibly next to her, at the same time her eyes searched out the person who had yelled. Looking towards the doors, Hermione saw a leather clad young woman with royal blue hair stalking towards them, her matching royal blue eyes locked on the redhead next to her. Ron clumsily stood and nearly trembled when Tonks reached him. Tonks was glaring up at him and Ron seemed at a lose as to what to say, when suddenly she lunged at him, her arms going around his neck and her lips taking possession of his surprised ones. Wide-eyed Hermione turned to Harry, but he looked just as surprised. Tonks pulled back, looking at the tall young man in her arms.

“You big, wonderful . . . I never dreamed. Never,” Tonks said. Not being able to stand it anymore, Hermione finally asked.

“What’s he done?”

Stepping back a little, but leaving a hand on his chest, the auror smiled. “He sent in a petition for me.”

Hermione gasped.

Harry said “What?”

Ginny laughed, “Really?”

“And . . . .?” Ron asked, looking expectantly into the Tonk’s face.

“What do you think, handsome?” Tonks grinned.

Ron’s eyes danced over her face. He then leaned down and kissed her properly, taking her into his arms. Shouts, whistles and other rude remarks were thrown up by the crowd. As they watched, the woman’s blue hair shimmered and altered taking on a decidedly ‘Weasley’ hue.

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