Disclaimer: The story is mine, the characters not.

Alert! Mature content.

Enjoy it!

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The bait

by XL Nozes

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Her fingers felt heavy and her skin, warm. With effort, she moved her right arm to the left side, trying to turn around. Her throat worked trying to swallow, but there was not enough saliva. The fabric beneath her buttocks was soft and warm. Despite this, it seemed very inviting. Her eyelids struggled to stand up and expose her brown eyes.

"Are you awake?"

The feeling of déjà vu came suddenly and accompanied by a panting.

'I'll give you an injection of pleasure. As soon as you wake up, I want you to think of the answer to my propos- '

This time she looked first at her own body. The blouse had stayed in place and the skirt was curled between her knees. It was possible that the Lord had moved her this time, imagining that her reaction would be the same. And he was right.

She located him sitting against an armchair, perpendicular to her, watching her. Imitating his position, she leaned against the couch.

"I know it's an important decision (and I do not want to pressure you), but we're in a bit of a hurry. Do you have any other questions you'd like to ask?"

His voice was so understanding that it irritated her. It would have been so much easier if he had not been kind, if the plan of the elders had worked. She did not want to have to make life decisions in minutes! She wanted to ponder, to plan. Throughout her life the idea that she would have lived for more than twenty years seemed unlikely, and so the future had always been something she had not dealt with directly. She wanted to, wanted so much to plan and think and walk towards some horizon. But...

This was the first major decision she had to make in her entire life. She did not consider accepting to be the casing of the spells a decision of her own - it had been the only option. When there is only one option is because there are no choices to make, right?

But not this, this was all her.

He had been gentle so far, but Hermione knew how many marriages in the village began and how they ended. Loving eyes and stealthy affection until the wife appeared dead, beaten, because her husband had disagreed with something she had done. And the law was on his side.

Was that it? Was she deciding whether to marry him or not? He had said that they needn't be anything more than colleagues, but it was also clear that he was far more powerful than her. Was it safe to enter into a relationship where she was obviously at a disadvantage? Of course not. Was it safer to die? Was her life worth the bet? Winning meant achieving things she had only dreamed of, seen in the books while cleaning the library of the elders. Losing meant a lifetime of torture.

"If we do not touch each other, I estimate that we have at least a half hour before the spell begins to affect your line of thought. I suggest you ask questions now, and while I make something for us to eat, you stand here pondering, without distractions. "

The brown eyes fixed on the man to her left.

Was it worth being honest with him? Could she trust him?

"Would the elders be dead?"

"Not exactly. The spell they put on you reduces life span, and so it is very difficult to dissipate. If I can move it and send it back to them, the spell will dissolve among all of their lives, but will not kill them immediately. "

She had to convince herself to ask what she wanted to know, not questions that would not help her make the decision.

"Do you have a library here?"

"More or less. The library I have here is the one that belonged to the old Lord. What I could see from the books is that they use, basically, black magic. I think I could use them to understand the basic operation and how to counteract or modify them, but only that."

For Merlin, Hermione, concentrate and ask what you want to ask!

"I do not trust you."

It was not that yet, but it was more direct than the others.

He swallowed once before speaking:

"It's understandable. Are there any questions you want to ask that can help with this?"

"You can lie."

For this he had no answer.

"You just told me that you know a lot more about magic than I do, which is easy, since I don't know anything. You know I have nowhere to turn back, this is your home. I know little of the spell that will bond us and depend on the information you decide that is pertinent to me. I do not know how much power I'll have to resist if you're a crazy abuser and I do not know how much power you'll have to subdue me if you're a crazy abuser. After the binding spell, I imagine I'll have nothing to do but stay here, hostage. I can only be sure that you will not kill me, because that would kill you also, but sometimes death is the simplest fate. And if, maybe, exactly this fate, at some point, seem to me the happiest? You would prevent me from reaching it because that would mean the same to fate to you."

The words leaked through her mouth as if there were no teeth and no lips to catch them.

"You're absolutely right."

Hermione inhaled quickly at his statement.

"May you come here with me for a moment?"

She hesitated before getting up and following him. They passed through the kitchen and through a door that led to a small hallway. Then they entered a large, barren room, gray with burnt spots on the wooden floor. Lots of cupboards on all sides and a large empty table. At the back of it, a door. The Lord opened it with a small key.

It looked like a small cabinet, with shelves and shelves of small colored glass.

"I did not produce any of them, they're all from the old lord. I stirred in a few, trying to figure out what they do, with little success. It would be a possible work if I had more patience and if I had used the potion books I found in the library. Those from here, I partially discovered what they do. When I dripped it on some plant, the plant died. They are in order of which was faster. They are yours if you want."

Hermione was silent, watching the flasks. She took one from each and put them in the pocket of her skirt.

"Wait."

He took out a small leather strap wrapped around his neck and, using it, tied all the small flasks in a row before placing it on her neck.

"One more thing. Hold it", he said, carefully placing the piece of metal in her hand being careful not to touch her. He murmured a few words and Hermione felt his hand warm. "Now put the key in the lock and open and close the door."

The girl did as he had told her and looked expectantly.

"Now I can't open this closet anymore.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and handed him the key, challenging him.

The Lord took it between his fingers and passed it to the other hand quickly. He did it over and over as he tried to put the key in the lock. The chestnut-harried-witch could see that in the places where the male skin made contact with the metal appeared a large red spot. It seemed to burn him.

"You can stop," she said, reaching for the key, without touching him, keeping it in her skirt.

He curled his fingers into his palms.

"I do not know what else I can do. I do not want to say what might be empty words, I do not want to make promises. I need you to help me."

Her lips lingered between her teeth as she chewed them ponderously.

"When two magical cores merge, the participants begin to access the magic of the same place. We'd both have the same skills."

"But will I be able to control it? As well as you, I mean."

"I can not say that. What I can say is that I feel that you have a dense and stable nucleus. That the control I feel coming from you is more than the potion and the spell of the elders. You have a natural control over magic, bigger than mine. I do not know how this translates to the actual use of it."

The brown curls danced as she agreed.

"Can you do that door spell in a room for me?"

His eyes opened and a smile joined them:

"Sure, you just have to pick the room. Let's go."

The upstairs was smaller than the bottom floor. He showed her four bedrooms, two of them with bathrooms. He commented that the second room he used take but that he would not mind moving.

Hermione chose the other suite, for convenience. It was easier to ask him to do the spell just in one room than in two. She felt subtly well at being able to make a sudden decision.

The spell was easy, and soon Hermione asked him to do the same with the windows. She did not want him to open them, she didn't know if he could fly.

The Lord did without blinking.

"Do you have any more questions? Any requests?"

She denied in response.

"I'm going downstairs to prepare something to eat. I'll wait for you down there."

That said, he disappeared down the hall.

Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled quickly with her mouth open. She lifted the flasks against her neck. Was there something else? That was as far as her imagination could go at that moment.

She knew she would say yes. She knew from the moment he'd talked about the possibility of her learning, of studying, but the idea of giving herself unrestrained had never been typical of her. Growing up without parents, in the midst of the need to serve to be protected, she had always been reticent.

The answer was yes. But a yes with restrictions, with things that would keep her protected.

A dresser in the corner of the room caught her eye. She untied five of the six glasses of the leather string, put one in the first drawer, one in the second drawer. The third she put under the pillow. Then one on the bedside table and the last one in the bathroom. What remained with her was settled in between her shoulders to free her movements.

She remembered seeing more leather ribbons on the nightstand. She picked up one and tied the key, pinning it against her fist.

Alright.

She inhaled and exhaled through her mouth quickly, heading for the scent of food that was beginning to climb the stairs.

The Lord was squatting against the coffee table, and when he saw her, he offered her an embarrassed smile.

"I thought it would be more comfortable here."

The coffee table had two plates of what appeared to be omelette with salad on the side, a glass of light brown liquid, and another with what appeared to be water.

"It's mushroom omelette. I did not know if you had any restrictions. But my personal experience tells me that children brought up in servitude often accept anything that resembles food", his sneering smile reminded her that their stories were quite similar. "I had chamomile tea already cold. And brought water for you to choose. I did not know...", seeing he was babbling, he stopped talking. Sitting in the armchair and leaving the sofa's ample space for her. Hermione walked down the last few steps and accepted the discreet invitation.

Hermione did not know him, but assumed that this behavior was the result of nervousness. Her natural mistrust did not grow calmer with this information.

"I... From what the books say, the connection has a mental nature."

Her face jumped up and she stared at him, reconsidering the decision.

"It's possible you can feel what I'm feeling, maybe even hear some things. It is blockable, apparently. I do not know if that helps decide."

"Oh." She watched him for a moment. Having access to his thoughts could make things easier. Or more upsetting. "It's all right."

"Time is running out. Do you want to decide now? Want to eat first?". His fingers were pressed against the knees of his pants, his body leaning forward. In the distance, Hermione could see small red spots on the sides of her fingers, especially on the thumbs - the burn marks from the keys.

"I've already decided. We can eat before, "she said, taking the plate and the cutlery.

She fought for a few moments trying to slice the omelette just with her fork, before giving in to the custom of sitting on the floor, using the coffee table for support. The first piece fell on her tongue, sending little dots of pleasure from her mouth to her stomach.

"That's the best food I've ever eaten," she murmured, realizing how hungry she was feeling. What was her last meal? The spell left her notion of time so disturbed she could not remember.

"Um ... I used to stay in the kitchen when I worked for the elders. Until they decided to train me."

How bad could someone who had a story similar to hers have become?

"How do you get food?"

"Hm, it has a spell that allows bodies transportation. I move to a village, buy what I need and come back. I planted a garden in the back of the house. And there are fruits in the forest. Sometimes I trad them."

Ela noded.

"And what is this?", she asked, pointing to a globe on the ceiling.

"It's a receptacle of energy. It is made with glass, metal and wood. It is possible to concentrate magic on it and it glows for a few hours. There are some of these around the house."

"Hm."

Her lack of questions made the silence linger. She watched him move from the corner of her eye, placing himself in a position similar to hers. His plate almost untouched while Hermione was halfway through her omelet.

"Does ... does that mean you plan to stay?"

Hermione looked into his eyes. They were amazingly open. Not innocent, but available. Without need to walk on circles, she replied:

"Yes."

His eyes remained the same, but his lips tightened, rising from the right side. Then he began to eat.

"So…"

He looked expectantly.

"What is your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

She nodded a few times.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

And so, for the first time, she felt more than just an orphan.