You Promised It Would Be Forever Part 1
Twenty-five year old Hermione Granger finished her meal at the Three Broomsticks, put some galleons on the table, picked up her bag of take-home work from the Ministry and tiredly exited the inn. It had been a long day. The head of the Spells Department, Gregor Gregorian had written her up for departing from department procedure again. She had one more time to fuck up, and she was out of there.
The Spells Department was quite strict on experimentation without the proper paperwork and permissions, but it took them more than a week to sign a simple name on a dotted line. Hermione had come up with a way to improve the invisible shielding used by Aurors to protect themselves. Up to this point, when fighting, Aurors had to cast spells around their shields, which impeded their aim, making them less effective fighters. Hermione had found a way to make the shields one-way. They could keep hexes from coming in, but allow hexes out. The Aurors wouldn't have to fire around them.
Of course, such an important discovery couldn't be credited to Hermione as far as Gregorian and his tenured cronies were concerned. The witch would make them look bad by outperforming them. Hermione had already had the credit for six very good spells taken by the Department Head himself, who placed his name on the paperwork instead of hers, citing she was too low level for acknowledgement, and all work she did for the Ministry was meant for the credit of the Department as a whole…even though everyone else had their names on the spells they developed. Hermione was between a rock and a chasm. She needed this job.
She almost wished she had accepted the monthly alimony Severus offered her when she divorced him. It would have come in handy now. She could have quit the Ministry job and took her time looking for new work. She thought she was being fair because he had given her the house. She didn't want half his assets or alimony. She had just wanted to be free.
She and Severus had been married for three years, and lovers for two. Hermione had turned up pregnant, and the Potions Master did the right thing and married her. Neither was ready for marriage, but a baby was coming, and a baby had to have a name. Severus purchased a house in Little Hangleton and acted the proper husband. Then, Hermione miscarried, losing the child when she was four months along. It was a son.
For months afterward Hermione had been almost inconsolable, and kept her husband at arm's length, which he began to resent. They began to fight and their sex life became non-existent. Hermione moved into a separate bedroom…and her husband returned to the cold, obnoxious bastard she had known throughout her years at Hogwarts. It was as if they had never loved each other. Then the emotional abuse began. Severus accused her of never loving him, and she sent it right back at him in spades, citing his long absences and accusing him of doing more than spying for the Order, that he was cheating on her, and even accusing him of making up his torture by the Dark Lord to cover his tracks. People often say hurtful things when they themselves are hurting
It was true they weren't having sex, but Severus wasn't involved with anyone else. He had simply reverted to living a sexless life. He was a proud man and not about to beg his unreasonable wife to come back to his bed.
They had argued one night so badly that Severus said, "I wish I had never married you, Hermione. Then I could just walk away from all this. And you. I am more miserable now than I have ever been in my life!"
Then he disapparated and was gone for days.
While he was gone, Hermione moved all his things into his private rooms at Hogwarts. She then went down to the Ministry and looked through their law books to find if there was a way to dissolve their wizarding marriage.
She found a law in an obscure book about the legal status of muggle-borns. It was one of those laws that should have been taken off the books, since it wasn't enforced anymore…but it was still a law. It stated that muggle-born witches and wizards were not "true" magical beings in that magical parents did not conceive them. As such, they were denied the rights and privileges of true wizards and witches. It went on to say that the children of a union between a muggle-born and a true witch or wizard WAS a magical being because it had magical parents.
It was a kind of Jim Crow Law, meant to hold muggle-born witches and wizards back. It was archaic, but Hermione used it as grounds to dissolve her marriage, saying as a muggle-born she couldn't be held to the rules of wizarding society. After much consideration and research by the Ministry Board, she was granted the right to divorce Severus. They took the law off the books shortly afterwards.
She served a stunned Severus with the papers and he signed them without incident, without a word really, then returned to Hogwarts a free man. Then his solicitor contacted her with Severus' interest in attempting a reconciliation, which she declined. Then came the offer of support…her taking the house, half his assets and monthly alimony. She was tempted to throw them all back in his face, but grudgingly accepted the house.
The divorce had become final over a year ago and Hermione rarely saw the Potions Master any more. Once in a blue moon she might see him in a bookshop, or at the Three Broomsticks. He would nod politely and go on his way…not that she wanted to talk to him anyway. He had made it quite clear he had felt trapped in his marriage to her and wanted to walk away. So she let him. And he could keep fucking walking.
Every night Hermione went home to an empty house, and wrapped herself around her books. She wasn't interested in pursuing another relationship. Severus had been her world, and when he left it, a large, aching hole remained. She didn't try to fill it with another wizard. It would be too painful. She had lost a husband and a son. She didn't think she could stand to take another shot at love and fail again. So she became a recluse. Even Harry and Ron couldn't draw her out, not that they had the time to focus on their friend as much as they would have liked, they both were married and had their own families to attend to.
Hermione slowly walked to the public apparation point, her bag hoisted over her should, passing the shuttered shops of Hogsmeade, the torch lights glittering softly as she passed. There weren't many people out tonight, and the streets felt empty and lonely. Suddenly Hermione felt the strange sensation of being watched again. She had been getting these feelings several times a week as she headed for home…but never this strongly. She turned and looked around, then drew out her wand. Maybe a masher was about. She walked faster to the apparation point on the corner. Damn, the torch was out. Hermione slowed.
The witch fired a spell at the lamp to try and relight it, but nothing happened. Shit. She had to go to that point to apparate. Hogsmeade had a citywide apparation block except at designated points because of all the accidents that occurred when people suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Plus the noise pollution. Public apparation points had strong silencing spells around them to cut down on the thunder cracks that followed the act.
The corner around the apparation point looked abnormally dark, as if no light at all could enter that area. Hermione's heart started pounding, but she didn't know why. She wasn't easily frightened. Being married to Severus had removed a lot of her fears. He could be quite frightening and she had gotten used to it. But she felt something was wrong.
"Lumos," she whispered, lighting her wand.
Hermione saw another figure further down the lane approaching the apparation point. It seemed to be a wizard walking briskly. She sighed with relief. At least someone else would be there. She'd feel safer. She hurried up to coincide with the wizard's approach. He passed into the dark area but she could still hear his footsteps. She arrived at the corner just as the wizard did. He looked at her, and nodded his head, not speaking. She couldn't make him out, but could just see his motion.
Hermione nodded back, smiling She was just about to apparate when the wizard leaped on her, grabbing her wand arm and pulling her tight against him.
"Good evening, Mrs. Snape…or should I say Miss Granger. You are no longer the property of the Potions Master," purred a voice that sounded familiar, but in her fright, Hermione couldn't focus on it.
"Who are you? Let me go!" she gasped
"I'm afraid I can't do that Miss Granger. I have my orders. Plus, holding you is proving to be quite arousing. You are very shapely," the wizard said, pulling her even tighter against him. Hermione could feel a hard, muscular body beneath the robes. Then she froze in horror as she felt the wizard hardening against her belly. "Quite shapely indeed. I can see why Severus fucked you for five years before discarding you."
Hermione struggled against him and suddenly felt strong hands around her throat, choking her. She dropped both her wand and her bag, clutching at the strong hands cutting off her air. Just as she started to see lights, the hands eased up and she was able to draw in a shuddering, painful breath.
"As you see, resistance can be painful, if not deadly Miss Granger," the wizard said, still holding her throat. "I suggest you cooperate. You have places to go and wizards to see."
Hermione slumped in defeat. She didn't doubt the wizard would kill her if she didn't cooperate. She felt the hands release her. Suddenly, Hermione kicked out, hitting the wizard in his leg and breaking into a desperate run. She didn't get far. A stunner hit her in the back, taking her down. She fell hard on the stone sidewalk. A nasty gash appeared on her forehead.
"Stupid little bitch," the wizard muttered, rubbing his shin for a moment before walking over to the unconscious witch and hoisting her up on his shoulder. They were in the light now, and the torches shone down on a rather handsome face.
The wizard pushed his long, blonde hair behind one ear, his gray eyes shifting to the witch on his shoulder as he ran a hand over her hip lasciviously.
"Pity the Dark Lord wants you, Miss Granger. I would have loved you to see my little 'playroom' at Malfoy Manor," Lucius Malfoy said, regret evident in his voice.
He disapparated.
Hermione's wand and bag lay abandoned on the street, waiting for discovery.
Severus was in bed in his private rooms when his mark began to burn. He woke up hissing and clasped his arm as the pain of Voldemort's summons hit him. Barely conscious, he rolled out of bed and automatically walked to the part of his bedroom wall that held the hidden panel which contained his deatheater robes. He opened it, quickly threw the robes on over his boxers, pulled on his socks and boots, then donned his half skull mask, raising his pointed hood. The Dark Lord rarely summoned him this late. It must be important.
Severus closed the panel and disapparated.
Voldemort sat on his throne impatiently, resplendent in violent robes interwoven with gold, waiting for his servant to appear. Several deatheaters lounged about the sparsely furnished throne room, talking as they leaned again the walls of the circular room. The walls were made of gray stone. They were splashed with crimson in places, evidence of violent entertainment. The Dark Lord liked the patterns of death and forbid the walls to be cleansed. It was a constant reminder of his power over the lives and deaths of others. Voldemort kept nothing for his deatheaters comfort…not even chairs. They had to stand in his presence. Only during the revels did he provide items of comfort such as chairs, mattresses and sofas. Otherwise only he would be comfortable in his domain.
The dark wizard drummed his long, thin fingers on the side of the throne impatiently. He couldn't wait to see Severus' face when he saw the gift his Lord had procured for him. The Potions Master had not been himself over the last few months. Voldemort had hoped he would recover quickly from the dissolution of that farce of a marriage to the mudblood witch. He had hoped that Severus would come around and regain his fierceness. But he hadn't.
One of the Dark Lord's greatest pleasures was pitting his deatheaters against each other in battle. He fought them for his pleasure like insensitive owners fought dogs. Severus had been his most vicious fighter, particularly in the months before his divorce. He had so much pent up rage that he beat every opponent brutally, having to be crucio'd in order to keep from killing them with his bare hands. The mudblood had been good for keeping the wizard savage and on edge. Severus spent days at a time in the makeshift arena, taking on deatheater after deatheater, always hungry for more blood.
But when they separated, it was as if Severus had lost his will for battle. He lost to deatheaters he should have easily beaten, and as a result lost the respect many had for him. The Potions Master let comments slip off his back he would have broken a man's neck for a year earlier. Severus was valuable to the Dark Lord as a spy and hadn't lost his usefulness there, but the Dark Lord wanted his gladiator back. Maybe if he had something to fight for…
Severus appeared before the throne with a crack of thunder and dropped to one knee in deference to his Lord.
"I am here, my Lord," he said, head bowed.
"Arise Severus, remove your hood and mask, then approach the throne," Voldemort lisped in his high-pitched voice.
Severus did as the Dark Lord asked, lowering his hood and pulling off his mask, sticking it in his pocket. He looked a bit gaunter now than he did a year ago. He approached the throne, his black eyes on the floor. Voldemort extended his ring, and Severus took his cold, thin hand in his and kissed the black onyx stone.
"Thank you, my Lord," he said, stepping back.
"You may look at me, Severus. I have something for you," Voldemort lisped, his red eyes glittering with excitement. "A gift that I hope you will appreciate."
The Dark Lord clapped his hands together sharply.
A door to the right of them opened and Peter Pettigrew walked quickly into the room. Well, as quickly as he could considering he was yanking Hermione along by her long, curly hair. He walked up to the throne and flung the witch to the floor. Voldemort had healed her head wound, and crucio'd Lucius for being so careless, but dried blood was still on her face. She was shuddering a bit, having been crucio'd also for demanding to know why she had been brought there. The witch had heart, that was for certain. Few screamed at the Dark Lord and lived.
Severus looked down at his ex-wife rather coldly. The deatheaters that had been quietly conversating among themselves began to amble toward the throne, interested looks on their faces.
Hermione looked up at Severus, a trail of dried blood leading to her mouth visible. He looked at her without evidencing the slightest bit of emotion at her plight. He wasn't going to help her. Severus looked up at the Dark Lord, who frowned at him.
"Well, aren't you pleased, Severus? You have the witch in your power now. You can keep her here to use for your pleasure and regain your will to fight. You've been pining. I brought her to you so you can relieve yourself or wreak vengeance. She did dissolve your marriage after all, and despite it's legality…it is a point of shame to be thrown aside by a witch. I should think you'd want to punish her or at least fuck her again," Voldemort said with irritation in his voice.
Severus looked at the witch on the floor consideringly.
"I don't want her," he said flatly.
"Don't want her, Severus? Why?" the Dark Lord asked him. "She looks like a perfectly good bit of trim to me."
"Because she's a selfish, whining, frigid little bitch, that's why," he said bitterly.
Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, then they narrowed.
"And you're an insufferable, heartless, lying, cheating bastard," she shot back at him…her eyes glittering.
Voldemort's eyebrows rose at Hermione's insolence. Surely Severus wasn't going to let her get away with that, especially in front of him. The witch deserved a beating.
But the Potions Master did nothing but look at her for a moment, then he looked at the Dark Lord.
"You can see why I don't want her. Send her back, my Lord," he said to his Master. "I have no use for her. I'd rather masturbate than go near her."
On hearing this, one of the wizards watching, MacNair, stepped forward quickly. He dropped to one knee, waiting for Voldemort to acknowledge him.
"Yes MacNair?" the Dark Lord asked him. "You may look at me and speak."
"Begging your pardon, my Lord, but if Severus doesn't want her…can we have her?" he asked Voldemort. His rheumy eyes slid over the witch. She had quite a few curves under that robe, and if she fucked the Potions Master…she was probably tough sexually. They could get a lot of use out of her…maybe keep her as a plaything.
Hermione paled as the wizard's eyes swept over her hotly. It was quite plain what they wanted to do to her. She looked at Severus again. He hadn't reacted at all.
Voldemort considered Severus. Cold as he looked, the Dark Lord didn't believe he had lost all feeling for the witch. Not the way he had been getting his ass kicked the past few months.
"Yes, MacNair. Since Severus doesn't want her, you can have her. Here," the Dark Lord said, carelessly flicking his wand and a huge mattress appearing next to the far wall. "Go fuck her or whatever it is you want to do."
Hermione screamed as MacNair lunged at her, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her against his body. The wizard was huge. At least six foot seven. Several of his teeth were missing, courtesy of Severus in his heyday. He gathered her small body against him.
"Ooh, I'm going to love ramming you, little witch," he rasped, lifting her up against him as she beat against his chest and kicked her legs frantically.
"May I go, my Lord?" Severus asked as his ex-wife screamed.
Voldemort looked at him, disappointment in his crimson orbs. His snake tongue flicked out. Guess it didn't work after all.
"Yes, Severus. You are free to go," he said.
The Potions Master turned and started to walk a distance from the throne to disapparate. No one was to do it within fifteen feet of the Dark Lord for some reason. Probably because the dark wizard found it disrespectful.
"You bit me…you little bitch!" MacNair snarled.
Severus heard a slap, and a scream, then another slap as the wizard began to punish his ex-wife.
"You think I'm like your ex-husband, witch? You think I'll let you get away with disrespecting me? I'll teach you how to talk properly to a wizard," MacNair raved, another slap sounding as Hermione cried out
Severus halted and scowled, his head down.
Suddenly he turned and walked back toward the throne.
"I'll take her my Lord," he said to Voldemort, whose eyes lit up.
MacNair stopped slapping the witch and let her slide down his body to the floor. He held her firmly by one arm as she gasped. Hermione's face was badly bruised on both sides. MacNair had big hands.
Voldemort almost rubbed his hands together in glee. This was what he'd been waiting for.
"No! You already said you didn't want her Severus. The Dark Lord gave her to us!" MacNair said, frowning at him, holding Hermione's arm so tightly she was wincing.
"I'm afraid MacNair is right, Severus. I gave the witch to them for their pleasure. I am a wizard of my word, as you know."
Severus looked at MacNair and the other deatheaters. They were going to beat, rape and kill Hermione if he didn't do something. Why he should care, he didn't know. She had served him the divorce papers, clearly telling him with that act that she honestly didn't want his love or his protection. She had moved all his belongings to Hogwarts. She didn't want to even make an attempt at reconciliation. In essence, she had thrown him out. Out of his house and out of her life. Now she needed him.
"However…" Voldemort said, a nasty, lipless smile spread across his face, "you could fight for her, Severus."
He waved his hand at the five deatheaters.
"All of them. One at a time. If you win…she's yours. You'd have to keep her here, however. Are you willing to fight to keep her from them?" Voldemort asked the Potions Master, holding his breath.
Severus looked at the battered witch. Hermione was staring back at him, her amber eyes level and slightly swollen. But the witch didn't looking pleadingly at him. She looked resigned. She thought he was going to let her die and was steeling herself. MacNair was staring at him too, a leering look on his face. Severus had been getting his ass kicked by him all year. No way would the Potions Master be willing to fight him and four other deatheaters. He was as good as stuffed in the witch right now.
"I will fight them," Severus said quietly.
Voldemort clapped his hands together like a happy child.
"Excsssssssssellent!" he cried, his excitement causing him to hiss. "Wormtail!"
Peter Pettigrew appeared like magic.
"Take the witch and put her in one of the back rooms. Ward the door and don't touch her. She's the 'prize.' If you want to fuck her, then you have to fight too."
Peter wouldn't mind fucking Hermione…he had already felt her up when he brought her unconscious to the room the first time, after the Dark Lord healed her cut. But he looked at Severus. He had been getting the shit kicked out of him lately, but Peter doubted he could beat the wizard.
"No my Lord. I'll just put her in the room," he said, walking up to MacNair and trying to take Hermione.
The big wizard didn't want to let her go.
"Crucio!" Voldemort said, hitting MacNair with the Cruciatus curse with next to no concern. The wizard released Hermione as he seized up and shuddered in agony. Peter led Hermione away holding her arm firmly, half dragging her in the process. They disappeared through the same door they came out of.
Voldemort released MacNair, who fell to the floor writhing. The Dark Lord looked at the Potions Master.
"Since you are going to fight so many wizards, Severus, it is only fair I give you the choice of order," he said.
Severus looked at the deatheaters consideringly. They all looked confident, except MacNair who was just starting to recover from his spasms. It would be wise to fight him while in this weakened state.
"First MacNair," he said, "Then Travis, McQuire, Aslund and last, Weasley.
Percy Weasley stared at the Potions Master appraisingly, his brown eyes looking him over. The Potions Master would be weak by the time he got to him. He might be able to beat him. He'd wanted to fuck Hermione since she was a fourth year, but he never got a chance to approach her because of his idiot brother and Harry fucking Potter. Better late than never.
Voldemort was looking at the four men too. He thought Severus had wisely placed them. Weasley was the least dangerous without a wand. They would be going toe-to-toe, barehanded, the round over when one was incapacitated, or could not win.
"Very well, Severus, you may prepare yourself," the dark wizard said.
A bench appeared against a side wall, and Severus walked over to it, unfastening his robes as he walked. He was doing it again. Risking his life for the ungrateful little witch…well not his life, yet a good beating. He was tortured severely for choosing to marry her. The Dark Lord had been very displeased. Fucking her was one thing, but marrying a mudblood? Severus paid for the right to bed Hermione with his blood. And she divorced him. Now here he was again, ready to lose more blood over her and she wasn't even his anymore.
Severus peeled off his robes. He only had on boxers beneath it. He toed off his boots and pulled off his socks, rolling them up and stuffing them inside his robes pocket.
The Potions Master stood up and began stretching and flexing, tossing his head quickly side to side, then bulking up, cracking his neck and back.
Voldemort looked at MacNair, who was still on the floor gasping.
"MacNair, get up!" Voldemort hissed at him, "You've got a fight with Severus in less than ten minutes. Snap out of it or he's going to beat you senseless."
MacNair slowly stood and gathered enough of his senses about him to reply to his Master.
"Begging your pardon my Lord, but I've been beating Severus like a child all year," the wizard breathed, his chest heaving. He still shuddered slightly.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him.
"That was then, MacNair. This time he has something to fight for," the Dark Lord replied, looking over at the Potions Master's lean, muscular form as he stretched and bounced about, throwing blows and kicks.
"Something I will take away from him again and again."
Hermione was taken to a room, pushed in roughly by Peter and the door slammed and locked behind her. Room? Cell was more like it. A filthy cell. The room was about ten feet by six feet, the walls made of gray stone. There was a twin-sized bed with stained sheets, a scratchy wool blanket, an absolutely disgusting loo, unflushed, and a small water stained basin set in the wall.
Hermione took her foot and grimacing, chucked the handle of the loo until she could catch it under her trainer and flushed it. The shit went down but the bowl was still smelly and disgusting. She pulled the stained sheets off the twin mattress and noticed the stains went all the way through. Gingerly she flipped the mattress over. The other side was a little better, but not by much. She caught the sheet in such a way that she could fold it over and arrange it so the unstained edges would come in contact with her body. Then she sat on the bed, listening to nothing at all.
Severus had almost left her to the deatheaters. He fully intended to. She could see it in his eyes, those cold, soulless eyes as he looked at her crumpled on the floor before the Dark Lord's throne. Her ex-husband looked at her as if she were a piece of cast-off parchment. There wasn't hate in his eyes, just total disregard as if he didn't care if she lived or died.
When the Potions Master told the Dark Lord that he didn't want her, it sort of stung. Not that she loved him anymore…she didn't. He had effectively killed that love when he told her he wished he had never married her and she made him more miserable than he had ever been in his life. And Severus Snape had been in some miserable situations. He still was actually. That Severus considered his marriage to her worse than anything else he had ever lived through had stunned and hurt Hermione beyond her ability to cope. All she could think of was getting the dark wizard out of her life and letting him return to his lesser miseries.
And tonight, he had actually called her a bitch. Even when they were fighting at their worst, he had never called her that. He called her a number of other hurtful names such as stupid, selfish, a silly chit, even frigid, but never a bitch. It must have been what he was thinking the entire time though.
Hermione had no such restraint with her language. She cursed Severus loud and long when she was angry with him, peppering him with muggle phrases and obscenities he barely understood. Her language had been far more abusive than his toward the end of their marriage. After the death of her son, things just went all downhill…her grief was horrible. Even now she felt that empty ache of a missing child. She also felt something else. Fear.
She was a muggle-born in the Dark Lord's stronghold. A prisoner. Severus was fighting for her life for whatever reasons he had. Probably pity. He might still be capable of that if nothing else. She remembered how one night they had walked past Knockturn alley, and a small weredog was howling with pain. Severus paused, then suddenly turned and sought the animal out. He found several children tormenting the poor beast. The weredog was crying in a corner with nowhere to go and the children were hitting it with blasts of heat from their wands.
"Leave that animal alone!" Severus bellowed at them.
Terrified by the pale, angry wizard, the children all scattered and the weredog slunk away. Severus watched it go, scowling, his lips pressed tightly together. He wasn't so moved by pity as to take the tortured animal in, but he would not see it tormented. Maybe that was how he viewed her. Like a broken dog that needed a break.
But there were so many wizards to fight and that goon MacNair was huge. Hermione didn't know if her ex-husband could take him, or if he did, if he would have enough strength left to take the rest of them. If Severus didn't beat all of them, she would be given to the wizards, who she had no doubt after MacNair's raging when she bit him, would rape her repeatedly, then most likely kill her.
Percy Weasley was one of them.
Hermione's brow furrowed. Percy had always been different than the rest of his down-to-earth family. In school he was proud and ambitious, always bragging on his accomplishments and talking down to his brothers and sister. He acted as if he wanted no one to know he was a Weasley, but his red hair and family resemblance gave him away every time. He had even taken the Ministry's side when Harry tried to reveal that Voldemort was back, turning his back completely on his family. Things had never been right between them since.
During the holidays, his empty chair was a glaring testament to his abandonment. Molly Weasley would look at it wet-eyed as she served the rest of her family. This pissed George and Fred off, and after every holiday there was some uproar between them and their brother requiring the assistance of Aurors to break up. It actually figured Percy would end up a servant of the Dark Lord. He was a pureblood who thought he was better than most everyone else. Pride goeth before the fall into darkness, and the wizard had tumbled in. Now under the protection and evil influence of Voldemort, Percy was ready and willing to rape her. The lust in his eyes was just as leering and hungry as in the others.
Hermione hoped the memory of Percy's lust remained just that, a memory. The alternative was too horrible.
When Severus approached MacNair, he wasted no time. The giant wizard stared at him in a demeaning manner.
"Ready to get your ass kicked again, eh Severus? This time I'm going to make YOU swallow some teeth. Then I'm going to rape your ex-wife until there's blood on my tool. Bet you never did that to her, did you?" MacNair sneered at the pale wizard.
"No, I prefer my blood on my hands," Severus replied, moving like lightning and hitting MacNair in the jaw with an uppercut so powerful it lifted him off his feet, the impact breaking several more teeth and knocking the wizard out cold.
Severus stood over the fallen deatheater, wishing he had his boots on so he could stomp his face, but satisfied himself with beating him mercilessly with his fists until his hands were indeed covered in blood. Voldemort stopped him. Severus listened. He had for more wizards to fight and didn't want to be hit with the curse. It would weaken him.
"Enough Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, extremely pleased. Now that was the Severus he remembered, the one who dispatched his opponents quickly with an economy of moves.
Severus stood up and gave the unconscious deatheater a hard kick in the ribs before he backed away, his pale chest heaving, and bloody hands flexing. That had been satisfying. As Peter Pettigrew struggled to drag the heavy wizard off to the side, Voldemort looked at the remaining deatheaters. None of them looked as confident as before. MacNair had done nothing to tire the Potions Master out. The Dark Lord's eyes slid toward Severus.
"Are you ready to meet your next opponent?" Voldemort asked him.
Severus wiped his hair out of his eyes, and looked toward Philoneus Travis.
"Yes my Lord," he said evenly, eyeing the short, stout wizard evenly.
Travis was built like a bulldog. He had a low center of gravity, rounded, but strong. No doubt the wizard would try to wrestle the Potions Master, because on the ground he might have the advantage. Severus couldn't let him take him down. He didn't doubt he could beat the stout deatheater, but he didn't want any major injuries in the process. Most likely, the wizard would feint, then charge him. He'd be ready. He could disable him in three moves if he got it right.
Travis walked out into the middle of the throne room. He was bare-chested and barefoot. He had breasts, and a rounded beer belly…but it was solid, not flab. Travis didn't attempt to taunt the wizard, as MacNair had. There wasn't any need for idle words. He just needed to get the wizard down and overpower him. Snape was fast, but getting him down would level the playing field.
Travis leaned, swinging his body back and forth, feinting charges at the Potions Master, who pretended to jump warily. This increased Travis' confidence…his opponent seemed anxious to stay out of his path. Travis inched closer.
Suddenly the wizard charged Severus, who stood still as if caught by surprise. At the last minute, just as Travis extended his arms to grasp the taller wizard around the waist, Severus spun with all the skill of a matador dodging a charging bull, kicking Travis in the ass as he passed, stumbling and plunging to the stone floor hard. That was one move.
Severus quickly leapt on the wizard's back, straddling him. That was move two.
The Potions Master gripped the wizard's arms by the wrists, forcing them upward, then using his strength and body weight, forced them forward, the wizard screaming as Severus dislocated both his shoulders at the same time. That was move number three.
Travis' arms fell limp and useless to the floor as he bellowed in pain. Luckily, Severus didn't feel the urge to punish this wizard as much as he had MacNair. But still he needed to learn respect, so Severus settled for a couple of brutal kicks in the ribs before he stepped away from him.
"Marvelous Severus, simple marvelous!" the Dark Lord exclaimed as Peter thoughtlessly grabbed Travis by one of his useless arms and dragged him to the side, clearing the way for the next opponent.
MacNair was just regaining consciousness, gumming his bloody mouth as his head cleared. His entire face was swollen horribly, his nose practically crushed to jelly, and his eyes mere slits surrounded by raw, red meat. He had lost a couple more teeth too. Severus had regained his respect.
"Severus, you have the hunger I coveted a year ago," Voldemort gushed at the wizard, thoroughly stoked that his servant seemed to have regained his deadly skills. "You've always been my most prized fighter. I am pleased to see you kicking ass again."
Severus bowed toward the Dark Lord.
"Thank you my Lord," he said.
The Potions Master had to admit he felt back in his element. The satisfying crunch of MacNair's jaw, and the snap of Travis' shoulders made him feel almost whole. Almost. There was still a part lacking, a hole in his soul that couldn't be filled by violence, no matter how gratifying. Severus fought back that familiar feeling of emptiness and focused on his next opponent.
McQuire.
The tall, thin wizard entered the ring, looking for all the world as if he were walking to the gallows. He had seen Severus' previous performance and knew he could not defeat the wizard. He was of the mind to charge him and just be taken out. It seemed the most expedient method to end this. Luscious as the witch was, she wasn't worth broken bones.
Severus saw the fear in McQuire's eyes. He would be an easy defeat. Sure enough the wizard charged at him recklessly, and Severus hit him three times in the face with a right-left-right cross combination and taking him down with a blow to his solar plexus. The wizard wasn't unconscious, but lay there…unwilling to fight any further. Severus looked down on him in disdain and stepped away from him.
"You concede, McQuire?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes leveled on the fallen wizard. He had gone down too soon without making any attempt to fight. This displeased Voldemort.
"Yes my Lord," McQuire gasped.
If the wizard thought his early concession would spare him pain, he was wrong. Voldemort leveled his wand at him and cast the Cruciatus curse on him a full three minutes, causing the wizard to shit and piss on himself as he writhed in agony, his eyes rolling up into his head with pain. When the Dark Lord released him, he continued to convulse horribly, his lips pulled away from his teeth, his tongue lashing uncontrollable as he gnashed down on it, blood streaming from his mouth. Peter dragged him away, still seizuring.
Aslund was next. He was tall, muscular and fast. He didn't think he could beat Severus, but he'd be damned if the Potions Master took him out as easily as his fellow deatheaters. He stood before Severus, his blue eyes studying him for a moment before he lunged, throwing vicious powerful kicks and blows.
Severus blocked his attack, returning blow for blow but unable to get through. Aslund caught him with a right, then left cross, staggering Severus back. He leaped on the dazed wizard and took him down, but Severus rolled him over and began pummeling him in the face, seeking to beat him so badly he'd be too disoriented to fight back. But Aslund was tough and managed to buck his hips enough to throw the Potions Master off him, and managed to get a few blows of his own in on the Potions Master's face, breaking his nose in the process before Severus wrested away and leaped to his feet.
The Potions Master grabbed his nose. His hand was filled with his own blood. He looked up at Aslund, who paled at the murderous look in his opponent's eyes before Severus threw himself on the wizard and began tearing into him, connecting with his face over and over, driving him back towards the wall, following him, his sharp knuckles turning the man's face to jelly. Aslund slumped against the wall, and Severus continued to beat him, not hearing the Dark Lord's command to stop. Suddenly pain hit him.
The curse.
Voldemort held his wand on Severus for a few seconds as Aslund slid down the wall, unable to continue. The Potions Master was held up by the curse…shuddering, his teeth gnashing. Voldemort let him go after ten seconds or so. Severus had just returned to full form…the Dark Lord had no desire to break him again…not when he was back at the top of his game. And Voldemort knew why…Severus' rage had been re-ignited by the presence of the mudblood. All the painful memories had come flooding back and he released them the best way he knew how…violence. Beautiful, glorious violence.
Percy Weasley stared at the Potions Master in horror. He was not as broken as he had hoped. Percy, for all his airs of grandeur…was a coward when it came to fighting wandlessly. He did not want to fight Severus and ran toward the Dark Lord, dropping quickly on one knee, begging to be heard.
"Yes Percy?" the Dark Lord lisped, his red eyes washing over the slender red-haired wizard.
"I do not wish to fight, my Lord. I withdraw," Percy said, his voice quavering, "I cannot hope to defeat Severus, my Lord. Forgive me for not being the fighter you wish."
Voldemort looked down at the trembling young wizard speculatively. He would not avoid the pain. There were other ways of torture that were, in the Dark Lord's estimation, much more pleasant.
"Very well, Percy. I will not force you to fight Severus. Instead, you will visit me. Do you understand?" the Dark Lord said, his voice filled with expectancy.
"Yes my Lord. Thank you my Lord," Percy responded, shaking with relief.
Recovering quickly from the short blast of the curse, Severus' nostrils flared in disgust. The wizard would rather Voldemort shove his snaky wand up his ass than fight like a man. From what the Potions Master had heard about the Dark Lord's sexual preferences, Percy would have done better to take the beating.
The Dark Lord dismissed Percy then looked at Severus.
"You have made an excellent showing, Severus. I am most pleased. Most pleased. Your ex-wife is currently yours."
Severus noted the Dark Lord's use of "currently". Hermione was still in danger.
"The mudblood will remain with us, Severus. I know you are estranged from her, and have no desire to resume a 'personal' relationship. However, she will remain here simply because I know if you were to take her from my domain, you would release her back to her life, and continue to pine. That will not happen. It seems she is the key to your aggression. I haven't yet decided what role she will play while she is with us…or if she will continue to live…but for the time being, Severus, she is within your care. You are responsible for her."
Severus nodded.
"Yes my Lord," he intoned.
"If the witch acts out of order, Severus, she will be subject to the same tortures as anyone else in my realm. Including the scourge. Tell her to be obedient or there will be repercussions."
"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied. "I suppose I should go inform her that she is safe, for now."
The Dark Lord studied him.
"If you wish," the Dark Lord said. Then he added, "Severus, keep this in mind. Although she is your responsibility, she is within my domain and subject to my will like any other. She may be required to perform 'other' duties. I just wanted to make you aware of that."
Severus looked up at Voldemort. He had expected that much. Hermione might find herself having to pleasure the Dark Lord, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. If she had remained married to him, she could have avoided this. Their bond had offered her a protection. Voldemort rarely fucked witches that were legally married to his deatheaters himself. It was a quirk of his, though he enjoyed witnessing the defilement of the sacrament of marriage at his revels…where deatheaters fucked each other with impunity.
"I understand, my Lord," Severus replied.
Voldemort eyed him.
"I hope Severus, that this return to manhood in my arena signals a return to manhood in other areas. That witch needs a lesson. She has mistreated you in the eyes of the wizarding public and your peers. You must regain your respect. You must make her pay," Voldemort said to the Potions Master.
"My Lord, I mean no disrespect. Give me leave to be candid," Severus requested.
Voldemort nodded.
"It was only momentary weakness that made me deliver Hermione from my brothers tonight. If I made her perform some sexual act as my reward, she would think I still want her. I'd rather not go through that, my Lord. As I said, I would rather masturbate than touch her again, even though I have fought for her. And as much as she deserves it, I cannot bring myself to beat her."
Voldemort nodded, though he wished the Potions Master showed more callousness than he did toward the witch. The mudblood deserved a beating. She had divorced him and was insolent. She was a woman that needed to be broken. Perhaps he would take her punishment upon himself at a future time.
The Dark Lord looked at the pale, wizard before him.
"I understand Severus. Yet, until I decide what to do with her…she is under your protection. Whether or not you decide to extend that protection is up to you. Once my deatheaters find out there is a female mudblood in our midst…they will want her. I leave it up to you whether or not they will have her."
"Yes my Lord," Severus responded. Voldemort looked at him appraisingly.
"You have not yet partaken of either our available females here or the Revels," the Dark Lord said, "You may not want your ex-wife but surely you must feel the need to plunge yourself in a soft, wet orifice. You are divorced, not dead Severus. There are many among our witches who would be honored to fuck you, particularly since your abilities have been restored. You should think about it. It would be most pleasurable after such a long, self-imposed dry spell."
"Yes my Lord," Severus responded.
Yes, there were female deatheaters available…but Severus wasn't interested in fucking them. Hermione had ruined him. Severus had become used to connection during sex. So much more had been involved in the act then just finding release with Hermione. Though he was often rough and dominating with the witch, he had loved her. It made all the difference at that time. Sex without connection was an empty act, and would only serve to make the hole Hermione used to occupy in his heart, larger.
Severus scowled. He hated thinking about any of this. He bowed to Voldemort.
"May I dress and take care of this, my Lord? I need to return to Hogwarts. I have classes in the morning," Severus said to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort flicked a long, thin finger at him.
"You may go, Severus," he replied.
"Thank you my Lord," Severus said, turning and walking back over to the bench.
The Potions Master donned his robes and put on his socks and boots. He then walked to the door Peter and Hermione had gone through, opened it and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Hermione had sat in the foul little room for over an hour, her stomach tight when the doorknob jiggled and turned. She looked around for something to defend herself with, but there was nothing. She stood up, pulled up the mattress and climbed into the bed, standing up in the corner with the mattress held protectively in front of her. It only 'protected' her up to her waist, as it was lengthwise. Maybe she could push the mattress over on whoever came in, trapping them beneath it and scramble over it. But where would she go?
She instantly tried to apparate the moment she was thrown on the floor in front of Severus and Voldemort, but nothing happened. Apparently only those with the Mark could apparate in Voldemort's domain. The knob turned and the door swung open.
Severus entered, closing the door behind him. He looked at the witch standing on the bed with the mattress in front of her. The wizard looked awful. His nose was swollen and obviously broken, and dried blood flaked on his pale skin. His face was badly bruised and his hands had dried blood all over them as well.
"You think that will protect you?" he spat at her.
Hermione continued to stand there, looking at her ex-husband's ruined face. He had taken that for her, despite the fact she was no longer his wife or under his protection.
"You silly chit. Get down from there. If the deatheaters want to come for you, a mattress isn't going to stop them. They'll use it to rape you on," Severus said coldly.
He watched as Hermione climbed down from the bed. His black eyes swept over the filthy room. He pulled out his wand.
"Scourgify," the Potions Master said, cleaning the loo and the sink. He also cleaned the sheets and mattress, then put his wand away.
"You're safe for now," he said to the witch who used to be his wife. "I can't tell you for how long. You'd better use that brain of yours to come up with a way to be useful to the Dark Lord that doesn't involve a variety of cocks, or you're going to be on your back quite a bit. I will inform Albus you are here."
Severus turned and opened the door to leave.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked rather desperately. She didn't want to stay here.
"Back to Hogwarts. I have to heal myself and get to bed. I have classes in the morning," he replied.
"But what about me?" Hermione asked him.
Severus looked at her.
"What about you? You're not my problem anymore, Hermione. I've already gotten my nose broken over you for no good reason. What else do you expect from me?" he asked her.
No good reason? She was about to be beaten, raped and killed by deatheaters. Wasn't that worth fighting for? Then she realized for Severus, it really wasn't. She wasn't his anymore.
Severus began to leave.
"Wait!" Hermione said.
Looking exasperated, Severus turned by to her. His nose was killing him. He wanted to get out of here.
"Why did you fight for me, Severus?" Hermione asked him.
The Potions Master looked at her for a long moment. An image of them making love when they were happy together popped into his head for an instant. He pushed it away.
"Temporary insanity," Severus replied coldly, exiting the room, closing the door and warding it behind him.
Hermione's wand and bag were found early the next morning by a shopkeeper on his way to open his store. He picked both items up and brought them into his place of business. He checked inside the bag and saw the paperwork for the Ministry. He contacted them by owl and two Aurors arrived to pick up both the bag and the wand. A quick examination showed both belonged to Hermione Granger, who hadn't shown up for work, which was quite odd, since the witch was punctual and responsible. If she needed a day off or were sick, she would have contacted her Department head.
Two Aurors were sent to her home in Little Hangelton. When they knocked several times and Hermione didn't answer, they let themselves in. She wasn't there but the wizards saw no sign of foul play. They checked her bedroom and found her bed hadn't been slept in.
They returned to the Ministry and reported Hermione could not be found. If the shopkeeper had found the bag alone, they might have assumed the witch lost it. But her wand also being found was quite ominous. No witch or wizard ever carelessly left his or her wand. It was suspected that Hermione Granger had come to harm. Still, they decided to wait another twenty-four hours before acting. She might turn up on her own. If not, they would begin an investigation, and her disappearance would become public knowledge.
At Hogwarts however, Hermione's disappearance was private knowledge.
Albus Dumbledore looked over his desk rather worriedly into the dispassionate eyes of Professor Severus Snape as he told the Headmaster of Hermione's capture and subsequent imprisonment in the Dark Lord's stronghold.
"Couldn't you have brought her out, Severus? Why does the Dark Lord want her?" Albus asked him.
"No. The Dark Lord wants her kept at the stronghold. He believes that her presence will keep me on edge enough to perform well in the arena. Since our divorce, I must admit I've been less than on point. Her presence did aggravate me enough to defeat four deatheaters I engaged to protect her from being killed. But I cannot continue to place myself in harm's way to protect her, Albus. She is not my responsibility. I cannot and I will not," Severus said evenly.
"But if you do not protect her, Severus, ultimately the deatheaters will use her and kill her," the Headmaster said softly.
Severus looked at the Headmaster for a moment, then all the bitterness he felt came pouring out of him in one great flood.
"Hermione divorced me, Albus! She promised our love would last forever, made me believe her, so I took the risk of loving her, then she ripped my heart out and crushed it under her heel. Hermione turned away from me, left my bed, became abusive, accused me of things I would never do, took me to the very end of my last nerve, then threw me out of my own house and divorced me."
"She would not attempt reconciliation, nor would she allow me to do right by her and provide support or give her money that, as far as I was concerned, she deserved, although she made my life miserable. She was my wife and the mother of my child, and she cut me out of her life. Now am I supposed to go running to help her? After what she did to me? To us? No. No, she chose to be free of me. Let her do the best she can on her own. "
Albus looked at Severus rather sadly.
"You know Severus…it was the loss of her child that was the cause of her turning away. She felt too much grief and couldn't cope with the loss. She needed comfort and understanding.
Severus scowled at the Headmaster.
"Her child? Her child? Albus, he was my child too. My son. My flesh and blood. I felt the loss just as powerfully as she did. I may not have carried him, but I felt him…his life…and his death. I needed her comfort and understanding just as much as she needed mine. But what did she do, Albus? She destroyed everything. Closed me out and started ripping at the fabric of our love until it was shredded. I held on to the hope it could be repaired, but she became worse and worse, driving me to the point of almost striking her she was so mentally abusive. She told me she hated me more times than I can count. Yes, I said some things I shouldn't have, but so did she. She had my love and my protection once, and she flung it away. I have nothing invested in her now. Her predicament is her own problem," Severus said blackly.
Albus looked at the dark wizard, tapping his fingertips together lightly before he responded.
"Is it really, Severus? Have you even considered that the Dark Lord never would have taken Hermione if it weren't for you? That if she dies, it will be because you once loved her? It will be because she once loved you? If they rape and maim her, it will be because once you both shared something beautiful. If you had never taken her in the first place, Severus, Hermione would be at her job right now. Safe."
Severus blinked at the old wizard, not knowing what to say in the face of this glaring truth. In his bitterness at her divorcing him, he didn't see the bigger picture. All he saw was the witch he was formerly involved with in a hard situation, a witch who had threw him over and refused to accept his love and protection any longer. By divorcing him, she had also made him a public spectacle. Divorce among wizards and witches was next to unheard of. That he had lost a witch he was supposed to be bound to until death was a matter of great shame. And he was a proud man. He hated the whispers he would hear when he passed others. Most comments were along the lines of the following.
"There goes that divorced wizard. A muggle-born witch married him, then threw him over. He was a fool anyway and got what he deserved. He should have married one of his own."
Yet despite the mental and emotional trauma he had gone through because of Hermione, and the coldness he felt toward her now…Albus was right. It was because of him she was in Voldemort's cold, scaly clutches. Every time a deatheater touched her, it would be because she had once loved him. Shit.
Severus rose.
"Headmaster, I must go. Class starts in ten minutes," he said, not addressing what Albus had stated.
Severus looked at the old wizard and noticed with irritation his blue eyes were twinkling behind the half-moon glasses again.
"I'm not sure how much the Order can do for Hermione's situation, Severus. As much as I care for the witch, her capture does not warrant starting the Final Battle for. So I'm afraid I have to leave her in your capable hands," Albus said.
Severus scowled at him.
"In my hands? I feel the sudden need for soap," the Potions Master snarked before stepping through the floo.
Behind the Headmaster, Fawkes began to sing.
The Headmaster turned his head and raised his eyebrows at the phoenix.
"Why Fawkes," Albus said, grinning at the bird, "I believe I heard you sing that same song five years ago when the Potions Master left after a discussion about Hermione. Same old tune, eh?"
Albus winked at the phoenix, who fluttered his wings and trilled agreement.
Severus emerged in his study, still scowling.
"I refuse," he said to himself, "I refuse to feel guilty about what's happened to that witch. She divorced me, I didn't divorce her. Why should I provide protection to someone without recompense? Especially someone who rejected me?"
Angrily he picked up his lesson plan and started for his classroom. An irritating little voice was sounding in his head.
"She wouldn't be there if not for you. She was your wife. She was the mother of your child. She loved you once. You would have never known love at all if not for her."
"Shut up!" the Potions Master hissed, storming into his classroom.
Peter Pettigrew entered Hermione's room. He saw it had been cleaned…probably by Severus. Hermione was curled up in a fetal position, dressed in her robes. One shapely leg stuck out from where the robes had ridden up mid-thigh. Peter admired it for a moment.
"Wake up!" he hissed, holding a steaming bowl of something in his hand.
Hermione didn't move
Peter looked over to the loo and saw she had her clothing folded neatly on top of it. Her jeans t-shirt and bra. Her knickers were draped over the edge of the basin, still damp from her washing them out. The wizard turned his beady eyes slowly on the still sleeping witch. She was naked under her robes. He looked at her leg and licked his thick lips. He moved closer to the bed and placed his hand on her thigh where the robe rode high. Slowly he began to push it up, rubbing his palm on her skin, trying to see the patch of hair hidden between her thighs…ooh just one look.
Suddenly Hermione's leg kicked back, catching the wizard in the stomach and upsetting the bowl he held so the food burned his arm. Hermione sat up in the bed, clutching her robes around her, moving back as far as she could.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing!" she yelled at the bent wizard.
"I was trying to wake you," he grunted.
This was bad. The Dark Lord said she wasn't to be touched, and he had touched her.
"How? By feeling me up?" Hermione demanded.
Peter straightened a bit, holding his stomach.
"Pretty soon witch, you'll be getting more than felt up. No one stays in the Dark Lord's domain without performing a service. Not even prisoners," he said, his eyes dragging over her. She was small but very curvy. Her robes couldn't hide that.
"It's not hard to tell what your duties are going to be," he smirked at her, shaking his arm. "That was your breakfast you kicked out my hand. Maybe you'll be more careful at lunch."
Hermione's stomach growled.
"Aren't you going to bring me more? It was your fault it spilled after all," Hermione said.
Peter looked at her with a leer.
"How about this?" he asked, "You be nice to me, and I'll be nice to you and bring you more food."
Hermione looked at the fat, hairy, balding rat-faced wizard and felt nauseous. All hunger drained away.
"I'll wait until lunch then," she said.
"Suit yourself, bitch," Peter snarled at her, angry he couldn't manipulate the witch. "I'll be back for you in about an hour. The Dark Lord wants to see you. Probably to discuss your 'service'."
The wizard laughed nastily as he picked up the bowl and exited. Hermione looked down at the floor at what appeared to be gray gruel of some sort. She wouldn't have found it appetizing, but she probably would have eaten it. Peter didn't even bother to scourgify the mess up.
Hermione threw the discarded scratchy wool blanket over the spillage and sopped it up, bundling up the blanket and throwing it into the corner when she was finished. She walked over to the basin, looked a bit apprehensively at the door, then dragged the bed over to it, wedging it in front of the entrance on a slant. Then she quickly removed her robes and ran the water in the basin.
The water came out a deep, sludgy brown at first, but after a moment it cleared. Using her hands, Hermione washed up as best she could. She had no washcloth or soap, so just rubbed the water over her skin. Then she jumped about a bit to try and dry off. She was still nervous about someone trying to come in and catching her naked. That wasn't a good idea. She had a feeling deatheaters would certainly take advantage of the situation.
Hermione didn't know for the time being she wasn't to be touched by Voldemort's orders. She could have walked buck naked through a crowd of deatheaters and not one would have touched her. Disobeying the Dark Lord was a death sentence, and no trim was worth that.
Hermione dressed quickly, then pulled the bed back to its original place, and sat down on it. She needed to think. What could she offer to do for the Dark Lord that didn't involved sex? She didn't have her wand with her so she couldn't do spell work. She could cook, but she didn't think the Dark Lord ate like normal wizards. He probably ate small, living rodents by the look of him, and those didn't require preparation. She was a talented researcher, and good with potions…making potions didn't require much wand work. She did have a potions degree, though she wasn't a Potions Mistress, legally. But her knowledge was quite in depth. She wasn't far from one. Maybe she could convince him to let her work with Severus or on her own in the Potions lab. It was worth a try.
The door opened.
"You ready?" he asked her coldly.
Hermione nodded.
"Well, come on then," the wizard said, holding the door open.
Hermione stood up and walked through. Peter thrust himself forward so her hip grazed his loins as she passed. Hermione grimaced. He was disgusting.
She walked down the hall toward the door that led to the throne room, followed closely by Peter.
Well, this was it. In the labs or on her back, Voldemort was going to assign her something to do.
"Now, when you approach the Dark Lord, stand very straight with your shoulders back and look him directly in the eyes," Peter whispered to Hermione as they walked through the door. "Also, since you are not a deatheater, address him as 'Tom'."
Hermione glanced sideways at the fat little wizard. Last night she observed that the deatheaters knelt when they came before Voldemort and kept their eyes lowered to the floor until he said they could look at him. And as for calling him 'Tom'…
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Peter. He was trying to get her crucio'd. Indeed, the fat little bastard was trying to hide a smile. She'd fix him.
They approached the Dark Lord. Hermione immediately knelt and lowered her eyes to the floor. Voldemort nodded slightly with approval as Peter scowled. Damn it.
"You may rise, Miss Granger and look at me," the Dark Lord said.
Hermione stood up and gazed on the serpentine visage of Voldemort. She looked like she wanted to say something.
"You wish to speak?" the Dark Lord asked her.
Hermione nodded.
"Speak then," the wizard said.
"I was wondering how I should address you? Peter told me that since I wasn't a deatheater, I should address you by the name 'Tom'," she said innocently.
Voldemort swiftly turned his head toward Peter, who was pale as a ghost.
"Did you tell her this, Peter?" Voldemort asked the trembling wizard.
Peter knew better than to lie. The Dark Lord would simply look in his mind and know the truth.
"Yes, my Lord, but only in jest," the animagus replied.
Voldemort's face twisted into a black scowl.
"You make a jest of my name, Peter? Crucio!"
The Dark Lord struck the fat little wizard with the Cruciatus curse as Hermione looked on, satisfied as Peter convulsed screaming from the pain. Voldemort held the blast on him for a minute and a half, more than enough time for the wizard to soil himself.
Voldemort ended the curse, and Peter fell to the ground seizuring, foaming at the mouth.
Voldemort's red eyes turned back to Hermione.
"You knew that would happen to him when you told me, didn't you?" Voldemort asked her.
Hermione swallowed, but answered him.
"I didn't know for certain, but I had hoped so, sir," Hermione responded, "considering that's what he hoped would have happened to me if I had followed his instructions."
The witch looked at the writhing wizard and shuddered at the idea that could have been her covered in shit and foaming at the mouth.
To her surprise, the Dark Lord laughed.
"It appears you have a little darkness in you," he said. "Refer to me as "my Lord." Although you are not one of my deatheaters, I prefer it. For the time you are here, I will be your Lord after all."
"Yes, my Lord," Hermione said.
Voldemort looked at her consideringly.
"Open your robes," he said imperiously.
Hermione didn't hesitate. She knew the Dark Lord had a hair trigger wand. She had tasted the curse last night and didn't want to feel it again. She quickly unfastened her robes and opened them so the Dark Lord could see her body, her mind working quickly.
The Dark Lord's eyes swept over her curves appreciatively.
"You are quite lovely, Hermione. You don't mind me calling you Hermione, do you?" the wizard asked her, his eyes slitted.
Actually, she did mind, but wasn't going to say so.
"No my Lord," she responded.
"Good," he said, looking at her thoughtfully. "As you probably know, everyone in my stronghold has an assigned duty. think that I will use you as a special reward for my deatheaters who have done me great service. It is an easy duty, and you will only have to handle one at a time, rather than a group. You will be untouched otherwise. I am being very generous."
"Thank you my Lord," Hermione said, hesitating. "But I wonder if I might persuade you to use me in another capacity."
The Dark Lord frowned at her audacity, but withheld his wand. He wanted to hear what she had to say.
"Another capacity?" he asked her.
"Yes my Lord. I have completed my potions studies with extremely high marks sir. I am quite good at it, almost on par with a Potions Mistress and was hoping you might use my skills in some way. Perhaps in your potions labs to work on projects for you," Hermione said hopefully.
Voldemort looked at her consideringly.
"I already have a Potions Master. Severus," he said to her, frowning slightly.
"Yes my Lord. But I imagine Severus cannot devote as much time as you would like him to, due to his duties at Hogwarts. I've worked with him, and know his procedures intimately. I could continue whatever work he's started while he is teaching."
Voldemort considered this. Hermione was right. Severus couldn't devote enough time to the potions Voldemort wanted created. He was currently trying to find a way to strengthen his snake venom so he didn't have to take it so often. He had to have it once a week. He would like to be able to take it once a month. He wondered if the witch had the skills to create such an elixir.
"Severus is aware of your skills, I imagine…since you two used to be 'close'," the Dark Lord said with a bit of a sneer. "Very well, I shall consult with Severus about this. What else can you do?"
"I have a degree in Spell Making, but I don't have my wand so…" she began.
"Spell Making?" the Dark Lord said excitedly. "You can create original spells?"
Hermione nodded, a little confused by his reaction.
"Then that is the duty you will perform for me as well as the possible position of assistant Potions maker," he said with finality.
"But my Lord, I have no wand. I lost it when Lucius took me," Hermoine exclaimed. "I cannot make spells without a wand."
"A wand is no problem, Hermione. I realize that a handpicked wand from Ollivander's is preferred, but you can use a substitute. Peter, get up!" the Dark Lord said to the recovering wizard.
Peter did his best to comply, sitting up then turning on his knees and slowly rising. Voldemort looked at Hermione with narrowed eyes.
"I need you to understand something, Hermione. You are my prisoner and cannot leave this domain. Giving you access to a wand is taking a great risk. I want to make it very plain to you, that if you try to escape, I will kill you outright. No torture, no second chances. If you try to use your magic against me, I will kill you."
"Because of the importance of your duty to me, I will however allow you to protect yourself against my deatheaters. Like every other female here, they will want a chance at you and I will not deny them that chance. They will want you more because you are a mudblood. You will have to be vigilant if you want to remain untouched. If you can, ally yourself with one or two of our females. They protect themselves in groups. In my ranks it is dog eat dog, Hermione. Raw and cutthroat. The only thing I don't allow is outright murder. Rape is perfectly fine. To the stronger go the spoils. Be strong, Hermione or be prey. Wormtail!"
Peter stepped forward a little shakily. The Dark Lord was going to give the mudblood a wand? Good gods. He'd have to watch his step.
"Wormtail, take her to the wand room and let her go through them until she finds one that suits her," the Dark Lord said. "Hermione, remember what I have told you. This wand is for the duty you have to me. A lab will be set up for you. If you try to use it in any way to free yourself or harm me, you WILL DIE."
"Yes my Lord," Hermione said, bowing slightly.
"Go with Wormtail," the Dark Lord said, scourgifying the shitty, pissy wizard and dismissing her.
Hermione followed Peter to a door in the far wall. The wizard opened it and led her down a small, badly lit hallway to another door at the far end. He opened it and she walked through. With his wand, Peter turned up the torches. Hermione's eyes went wide.
Piled in the room was nothing but wands, hundreds if not thousands of them.
"Where did they all come from?" she asked Peter, her voice just above a whisper.
"They are the wands of the dead," Peter replied. "The Dark Lord keeps them as mementos."
Hermione shuddered. A life was lost for every wand here. Voldemort was a true tyrant.
"Well, get started," Peter said impatiently, sitting down in a small wooden chair against the wall.
Hermione picked up an eleven-inch wand made of maple. She pointed it. A few weak sparks shot out. She put it behind her so she wouldn't choose it again.
She didn't have Mr. Ollivander to guide her to the wand best suited for her this time.
This could take a while.
Voldemort sat on his throne looking a bit bored when suddenly a deatheater apparated into the throne room, hood drawn. The servant began to walk toward him. The Dark Lord immediately knew who it was by the walk. That walk could make a dead man get an erection.
"Bella," he lisped, feeling his loins stir. Just what he needed. His favorite female plaything.
The witch lowered her hood, revealing wildly curling black hair, sultry gray eyes and blood red lips. She opened the first few fasteners of her robes so her ample cleavage was visible beneath. Like always she wore nothing beneath. She knelt, displaying her breasts.
"My Lord," she breathed.
"Rise Bella, and approach me," Voldemort said hoarsely, spreading his legs slightly.
Bella mounted the steps to the throne and dropped to her knees between his legs, looking up at him. She placed a pale hand on his thigh. Her nails were painted black and had the tiny image of a silver skull on each.
"Did Lucius deliver the mudblood, my Lord?" Bella asked him, rubbing his thin thigh as the wizard began unfastening his robes.
"Yes, Bella…she is here, selecting a wand," the Dark Lord breathed, his crimson eyes on her full lips.
Bella looked surprised.
"A prisoner with a wand, my Lord?" she asked him, her brow slightly furrowed.
"It is for a duty she is to perform for me. She knows it means death if she misuses it," he said, pulling his robes apart and revealing his writhing, scaled member. Bella took it in her hand, and he hissed…just like a snake.
"Do you think she suspects, my Lord? What we did?" Bella asked, petting his twisting organ.
"No," the Dark Lord sighed, enjoying her touch, "Both she and Severus believe the miscarriage was a natural occurrence. They have no reason to believe otherwise. You did well, Bella. Your execution was flawless."
"Thank you, my Lord," she said, taking him into her mouth and sucking hard.
Both of the wizard's long, elegant hands locked into Bellatrix LeStrange's ebony curls as he threw his head back with pleasure.
"Yessssss," Voldemort hissed as her lips dragged over him. "Thank me, Bella. Thank me, my faithful servant."
When Severus returned to the Dark Lord's stronghold, he expected to find Hermione locked in her room, sore from being fucked by at least two deatheaters. He had no doubt Voldemort would make her a 'reward' for good service. There were several deatheaters in his favor right now. He might have given them Hermione as a gift for their loyalty. They would have put her through the paces, especially since she was a mudblood.
Well, at least the witch was prepared. When she was with Severus, he had taken Hermione around the world sexually, and he wasn't the gentlest lover. Hermione hadn't wanted him to be either. That was something that astounded him about the petite witch. Her strength and her hunger when she was aroused and wanted him. He found this out two nights after they first became lovers.
Hermione was working with him and Flitwick at Hogwarts to gain hands-on credits for her Spell Making and Potions courses. She had just started her third year of college. From the time she entered his lab, there was sexual tension. Hermione was so attracted to him that she almost blew up the Potions lab several times because she found it hard to focus. He had looked in her mind and saw her fantasies about him. Severus felt she was going to kill them both if he didn't do something about it. So he did. The Potions Master found the small witch attractive in a number of ways. But he knew she would never divulge how she felt about him or what she wanted from him. So he made the conscious decision to fuck the young witch and get it out of her system.
Hermione had come to the lab late in the evening as he instructed, to find there were no projects set up and Severus had closed the door to the lab and warded it. Then he informed her that he knew about her attraction to her and that he had seen her fantasies about him, and rather than be killed because she couldn't focus, he planned to fulfill her desire. Hermione had been embarrassed, but the moment he touched her, she nearly melted into a puddle. Severus had never seen such desire in a witch. She trembled with need. He asked her if she wanted him from the back or did she want to look at him. Her response was she wanted to see him.
Severus put Hermione on her back on his desk, removed her knickers, opened his robes, pulled down his trousers and his boxers, lifted her legs and entered her strongly without preliminaries, filling her completely and stroking hard. Hermione had screamed horribly and it wasn't a cry of passion. Severus was huge but he shouldn't have caused her that much pain. Most witches felt extreme pleasure when he put his tool to them. He stopped fucking the witch, pushed her robes back and pulled out of her partway. The Potions Master was stunned to see the blood of Hermione's maidenhead on his shaft. The witch had been a virgin and didn't tell him.
He looked down at her. Hermione had tears streaming from her eyes and was shuddering like a child shudders when they've cried too much. Severus had never taken a virgin in his life. He had never been any witch's first. Someone else had always beaten him to the mark.
"Why didn't you tell me you had never done this before, Hermione?" he asked her.
She looked up at him, her amber eyes soft.
"Because I knew if I had told you, you wouldn't have touched me," she replied, "and I wanted you to be the one to take my virginity, Professor. I've waited two years for this."
"Why me? Why not a wizard closer to your age? Someone you cared about? Hermione, a witch's virginity is precious. You should have saved it for someone who meant something to you," he said.
He was very uncomfortable with what he had done. Hermione was right. If Severus had known she was a virgin, he wouldn't have taken her…at least not like this, on a desk in his Potions lab. He felt horribly guilty.
"But you do mean something to me, Professor," Hermione had told him, and proceeded to tell him why.
There was a strong physical attraction because of his demeanor, also an intellectual attraction because he was a brilliant wizard, then there was an emotional attraction because of all he sacrificed for the Wizarding world so selflessly. Hermione believed she loved him and had loved him since her seventh year. She then pleaded with him to finish and show her what sex was all about.
In response, the Potions Master had gathered her up, taken her to his private rooms, undressed her and showed her the pleasures of sex the right way. He was gentle with her though gods knew he didn't want to be. Hermione was responsive, passionate and eager. When she returned to her room, he couldn't stop thinking about her. They didn't get any work done the next night either.
On the third night when he took her, Hermione kept begging him to fuck her harder. Severus was worried he would hurt her, but she begged him so passionately he couldn't help but comply and by the time he had climaxed, she had come numerous times under his violent pummeling, sobbing his name, screaming like a banshee, tears streaming from her eyes.
When he was finished and was holding her quaking body, Hermione told him how good he had been and that was how she always dreamed he would take her. She claimed his pain was the sweetest pain she had ever felt, a pain that gave her the sweetest pleasure. Severus wasn't sure he understood how that worked but after that night he made sure to give her all the sweet, pounding pleasure she could ever desire. It was freeing for him as well. Hermione also had other little quirks that he found wickedly delightful and fulfilled with gusto. Eventually, the Potions Master came to love her powerfully.
Severus literally shook his head to force back these memories, willing himself to deflate. The only time he ever hardened now was when he woke up in the morning, and when he thought about fucking Hermione back when they were so in love. Before the loss of their child, before the arguments, before she moved his things out, before the divorce.
He entered the throne room thinking he would have to go back to Hermione's room and listen to her cry and tell him about the horrors she had gone through. He really didn't want to hear them for a number of reasons. Firstly, there was nothing he could do about it, and secondly…Albus had succeeded in making him realize that her being here was partially his fault. He also blamed her for not being more vigilant and allowing herself to be taken. But he felt a bit of guilt anyway.
He had taken several steps when he stopped, stunned to see Hermione standing in front of the Dark Lord, talking animatedly…with a wand in her hand. A wand! How had the witch managed that? Against the wall a number of deatheaters stood watching her with a mixture of malice, jealousy and lust in their eyes. They whispered to each other and it was easy to see they meant her no good.
Severus approached the throne and knelt.
Voldemort beamed down at him.
"Ah Severus. Rise and look at me," the Dark Lord said, evidently in a very good mood.
Severus stood up and looked up at Voldemort, though he really wanted to look at Hermione, who was standing there looking at him engage the Dark Lord.
"Severus, why did you not tell me how brilliant your ex-wife is? Her knowledge of the Dark Arts is phenomenal. We have been talking theory and application all evening. She is quite entertaining. And a Spells Mistress…how did you let that escape my notice?"
Now the Dark Lord's eyes narrowed a bit. Severus had hid his wife's talents from him. And he had. The Potions Master knew if Voldemort discovered how talented his wife was, he would have wanted her to serve him. Hermione would never have done that and the repercussions would have been horrible.
"It just never crossed my mind, my Lord," Severus said, steeling himself.
Voldemort looked at him for a moment.
"Crucio!" the Dark Lord cried, hitting the Potions Master with a powerful burst of the curse.
Hermione looked on in horror as her ex-husband shuddered and writhed under the curse. But he didn't scream, not even when his arm broke from seizuring. Voldemort held Severus under the curse for a full four minutes. Tears streamed from Hermione's eyes as she watched the Potions Master gnash his teeth, his eyes rolling up in his head and shit and piss himself. But she couldn't protest or she would receive a blast too. All she could do was cry.
Finally, Voldemort released Severus, and he fell, writhing and contorting to the stone floor, his right arm flopping uselessly. He continued to seizure, Hermione looking down at him in sympathy, wanting to go to him and try to help him. But she didn't dare.
Voldemort's red eyes studied the witch.
"It hurts you to see him in such pain, doesn't it?" the Dark Lord asked her, thinking this knowledge would come in handy.
"I hate to see any living creature in pain, my Lord," Hermione replied, her wet eyes on Voldemort.
"You had no such tears when Peter was writhing on the floor," Voldemort countered.
"That's because Peter got what he wanted me to get," Hermione said, "He deserved what happened to him."
Severus' convulsions were slowing but his back was arching in pain still. Voldemort considered Hermione's answer about Peter.
"So, you don't think Severus deserved this punishment?" Voldemort asked her.
Hermione looked up at the Dark Lord and knew she was in a catch twenty-two. If she said that Severus didn't deserve the punishment it would be tantamount to challenging the Dark Lord's authority. If she said he did deserve the punishment, then Severus would hear her siding against him. She didn't need any more animosity from him than he was already showing. She knew Severus purposely didn't tell the Dark Lord about her to protect her. So in fact, she was the reason he had been punished. She felt horrible. She looked at Voldemort.
"I think," she said carefully, "that I shouldn't presume to fathom the acts the Dark Lord chooses to commit."
Voldemort looked at Hermione with a bit of respect…just a touch. She had nicely extricated herself from giving him a direct answer.
"You are correct, Hermione. And wise," he said. Then his red eyes fell on Severus.
"Severus selfishly kept you to himself. If he had let me know how brilliant you were, I would not have tortured him for marrying you," Voldemort said.
Hermione looked at the dark wizard with wide eyes, before turning them on her ex-husband, who was now lying on his back, his chest rising and falling. Severus had been tortured for marrying her? He never said anything about it. Voldemort looked at her.
"You look surprised Hermione. I take that he never told you how displeased I was he married a mudblood. I didn't mind him fucking you, but marrying you…that was a dragon of a different color. But he had already wed you by the time I found out. He purposely didn't tell me of his plans, because he knew I would forbid it. He was hung from the beams and beaten and scourged for three days."
His red eyed narrowed.
"I was doubly displeased that you were with child. It was a pollution of the worst sort. A bastardization of Severus' magical heredity. A crime against nature. Luckily, nature rectified that error," Voldemort said coldly.
Anger and pain shot through Hermione as Severus opened his eyes and looked over at her. He couldn't speak…he couldn't stop her.
"How dare you say my child was a pollution, a crime? If he had lived he would have been a powerful wizard. He might have made a difference in the world!" she said to the Dark Lord angrily.
The deatheaters all fell silent, their mouths open in shock, staring at the witch who dared address their Master in such a chastising manner.
"Well, the only difference he is making now is to the worms," the Dark Lord replied. "I realize Hermione, it is emotion that caused your outburst concerning the truth I spoke. However…Crucio!"
Hermione's small body seized up and she began screaming horribly as the Dark Lord applied the curse to her. Severus was propped haphazardly on one elbow, watching his ex-wife suffer for defending their lost child and challenging the Dark Lord's views. She still had that Gryffindor courage…even if it were a reckless courage.
Voldemort held the curse on her for a full minute, before releasing her. She wasn't as strong as Severus. The witch fell to the floor on her back, shuddering and convulsing. If the Dark Lord had looked at Severus, he would have seen pure hatred in his black eyes at that moment. That was his child the Dark Lord had described as a crime against nature. His blood. Severus had never known that Voldemort was against the birth of his son. He stared at the red-eyed wizard. A knot formed in his belly as he did so. When Voldemort was against something, he did his best to change it.
Severus looked over at his convulsing ex-wife.
Her miscarriage had appeared to be an unfortunate occurrence. When Poppy examined Hermione, she could find no physical reason for her to have lost the baby.
No one thought to investigate if there were a magical one.
A cold rage began to spread throughout the wizard's body. He would look into this. If Severus found out that the Dark Lord had in some way caused his son's death and the dissolution of his marriage, Voldemort wouldn't have to worry about Dumbledore, Harry Potter, or the Final Battle occurring on some obscure plain in the distant future.
It would start and end right in his fucking stronghold.
Voldemort healed Severus' broken arm with a flick of his wand, then scourgified him.
"Take your ex-wife back to her room," he said to the Potions Master.
"Yes, my Lord," Severus said, bowing. He walked over to Hermione, who was still shuddering on the floor, but sitting up. He pulled her to her feet.
This was the first time the Potions Master had touched the witch in over a year. She was lighter than she used to be. He grasped her arm and helped her walk back towards the door that opened on the hallway where her room was located. Just before he entered it, two deatheaters blocked his path.
"We want the mudblood, Severus. She's fair game," one tall, muscular, brown-eyed wizard snarled, his eyes shifting over the small, shuddering witch.
Hermione had her wand in her hand but seemed in no condition to defend herself against them. She was just regaining lucidity. Now would be the perfect time to take her, when she was weak from the curse. Severus looked from one wizard to the other.
"She is recovering from the Cruciatus curse," he said quietly, "she is in no condition to defend herself."
"We know. That's why we want her," the other wizard said.
He was short with green eyes and brown hair. He had a leer on his face and his robes were noticeably tented. Severus' black eyes shifted from wizard to wizard.
"The Dark Lord told me to return her to her room, and that is what I am going to do," he said evenly, "she is under my protection until I complete my Lord's orders."
There. No one could accuse him of protecting the witch. He was following the Dark Lord's directive.
"But if you put her in her room, we can't touch her. Her room is off-limits," the first wizard complained.
"That's not my problem," Severus said rather dangerously, "Now step aside and let me finish my task."
The two deatheaters hesitated, staring at Hermione who looked up at them, her eyes focusing. She had heard everything. Her hand tightened on her wand.
"Let me go, Severus," she said in a raspy voice. She was hoarse from screaming.
"You can barely stand," he said to her in a low voice, looking again at the deatheaters, both who had gone on point. They were about ten feet away in front of the door leading to her room.
"If I fall, then those two will have that much less work to do," she replied trying to pull away from him.
If she fell, then Severus would have to watch the two wizards fuck her. The idea of it made his stomach tighten uncomfortably.
"But Hermione…" he said, "I can take you to your room. They won't stop me. If I let you go they are going to take you down and rape you."
Hermione drew in a deep breath. She looked at him, her eyes narrowed with determination. Severus remembered that look.
"Let me go, Severus. I have to face them or they'll just go for me later," Hermione said, her voice slightly stronger.
The Potions Master let her arm go and stepped away from her. The deatheaters immediately lunged, thinking she could only hex one of them before the other got her down.
But they didn't know Hermione. She was a Spells Mistress.
"Pulsus duo!" Hermione cried pointing her new wand at the charging wizards.
Two white, crackling balls of energy blasted from her wand tip simultaneously and slammed into the wizards, lifting them up and slamming them into the stone wall with terrible force. They were both knocked unconscious.
Hermione blew on the tip of her wand as if blowing out a match, then stuck it in her robe pocket. Severus looked at her, clearly impressed. He had never seen a spell like that.
Hermione headed for the door.
"Where did you learn that spell?" he asked her.
"I made it," she said shortly as she opened the door to the hall and entered. Severus followed her.
"And how did you manage to get a wand?" he asked.
"Voldemort wants me to create spells for him. It's better than having my heels up in the air," she said.
"But Hermione, he will use those spells against the Order," the Potions Master said frowning.
"I've got it covered, Severus," she responded, opening the door to her room and trying to close it before Severus could follow her in. He held the door, scowling at her.
Hermione scowled back at him.
"What do you want, Severus? You made it clear that you weren't going to help me, so I came up with a way to help myself. I don't need you now," she said.
He looked down at her.
"I know that, Hermione. You made it perfectly clear when you divorced me," he replied, "but I need to talk to you. It's concerning Jacob."
Hermione's eyes went wide for a moment, then became quickly wet.
"I don't want to talk about him, Severus. It's too painful," she said, her voice quavering.
"It's painful for me too, Hermione. He was my son as well as yours. I feel his loss just as deeply. But…I need to talk to you…in your room," Severus said, his dark eyes meeting hers.
There was something about the way her ex-husband looked that made Hermione let him in. Severus closed the door and warded it with a silencing charm. He turned to find Hermione with her wand pointed at him.
"My room is off-limits, Severus. If you mean to rape me, you have to do it elsewhere…and I'll blast you even faster than I would another deatheater," she snarled.
The Potions Master stared at her in amazement for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed.
"Hermione, at this point in time, I am probably the only deatheater in the stronghold that does not want to rape you," he said coldly, "So you can put your wand down. The only reason I warded the door was so we would not be heard discussing our child. Others will assume I am indulging myself with you however, so it won't be considered odd the door is warded."
Hermione glared at him for a moment, then lowered her wand.
"I'm sorry Severus. This whole situation has me on edge. I should have known better than to think that. It's just unnerving to know it's just me against an entire horde of randy deatheaters. I don't know how I am going to get out of here…or if I ever am," she said, dropping on the bed dejectedly.
A small shudder went through her…a leftover tremor from the curse.
"Now you said you wanted to discuss something about…about Jacob," she said.
Severus sat down next to her. This was going to be delicate. He didn't want to set the witch off and get her killed by raging into the Dark Lord's throne room. His suspicions could be entirely off the mark and the miscarriage an unfortunate occurrence.
"Hermione, I need something from you. I need a pensieve of the entire twenty-four hour period of the day before your miscarriage," he said.
"Why? We went over everything verbally Severus. I went to Hogsmeade to pick up some things, had lunch at the Three Broomsticks and apparated home. I lost the baby that night," she said, her voice a bit strained as she remembered it.
The sharp pain, the agony, the blood…Severus finding her, rushing her to Hogwarts…losing her child. Her son.
"I still need it, Hermione. And I need to do something else, and I don't want to do it without your knowledge. I am going to exhume Jacob's body," he said softly.
Hermione stared at him for a moment.
"You think something happened, Severus. You think this wasn't an accident," she said, her voice turning shrilly. "You think someone murdered my baby in the womb."
Hermione went silent a moment, her amber eyes moving about in their sockets as they did when she was going over something in her mind.
"It was what Voldemort said about our baby bastardizing your heredity and how he disapproved of my being pregnant. You think he had something to do with it! Did Voldemort kill my baby, Severus? Did he?" Hermione asked, a wild look in her eyes.
Severus grasped both her hands tightly.
"Calm down, Hermione. I don't know if he did or not. That's why I want to exhume Jacob. If the miscarriage was triggered by something magical, traces of it may remain in his tissue. If there is any trace, we can assume someone wanted us to lose our child. But that won't be enough. We have to find out how it was done. The pensieve you give me might be the key. But we can't assume it was Voldemort. I've made enemies over the years, Hermione. Still, we need to find out for certain. If my son was killed, and I find out the means of his death, I will demand blood for blood…even if it means my life," the Potions Master said vehemently. "He will be avenged, I promise you."
Hermione looked up at him, then down at his hands, clasping hers tightly. Severus looked down too, then quickly released them. He rose swiftly.
"Hermione, I need you to maintain objectivity. I don't want you confronting Voldemort or you will tip him that we are investigating our child's death and probably be killed. You have to remain calm. You have a bad temper Hermione. You must contain it," Severus said, frowning down at her.
Hermione looked mutinous for a moment, then the tears began to flow.
"He was my son, Severus. My son," she sobbed, wiping at her eyes.
"No Hermione. He was our son. Mine and yours. We both lost someone precious and irreplaceable. Someone that was created from our love," he said.
Hermione looked up at him, her eyes shining.
"Find out, Severus. Find out if it wasn't an accident of Nature. I hope you don't find anything though. To have lost him is bad enough, but if he was purposely taken from us…."
Hermione began crying again. Severus looked down at her helplessly. He had no right to comfort her…he could use a bit of comfort himself. This was the same helpless feeling he had when she had first lost the baby. But there was something he could do this time. He couldn't bring Jacob back, but he could find out why he left them. Find out if it were nature or murder. Then there could be closure…or revenge.
Severus walked to the door, then turned back to Hermione
"I am going to return to Hogwarts and let Albus know of my suspicions. Then I will retrieve Jacob from his resting place on the school grounds. Tomorrow I will bring you a small pensieve and you will deposit your memories in it. I will take the pensieve back to Hogwarts with me and go over it minute by minute and see if I can discover anything or anyone out of place. If I do…"
He scowled blackly, not finishing the sentence. He unwarded the door.
"Ward this back," he said to Hermione, then exited without saying goodbye.
Hermione thought her ex-husband sounded a bit protective, but then again it could just be the natural command in his voice.
Hermione re-warded the door, then removed her robes and lay down in the bed.
Someone may have killed their baby. Her eyes narrowed murderously.
If they had, that someone would pay and pay dearly.
"Severus, are you sure you want to do this? Perhaps someone else…" Albus said, a sober look on his face.
"Jacob was my son, Albus. I have a great knowledge of potions and powders. I doubt any one else could do the examination and tests with as much thoroughness as I can. I have a vested interest in this. It is best I am the one to exhume and examine my son," Severus stated flatly.
Albus knew that tone. The subject was closed as far as the Potions Master was concerned.
"At least take Hagrid with you," Albus pleaded with the dark wizard.
"I don't need Hagrid, Headmaster. All I need is a shovel and light," Severus replied, "I would like to request a couple of days off. We are doing reviews in class now and the lesson plan is completed and simple to follow."
"Of course, Severus, of course," Albus said, "Whatever time you need. But what I am concerned about Severus, is what you will do if you do find out it was foul play?"
Severus rose, and looked at Dumbledore steadily.
"Headmaster, what would you do if someone murdered your unborn child while he was floating safe in his mother's womb? What would you do if that murderer not only cost you your son, but also the love of your life? What would you do, Headmaster?" Severus asked him.
Albus' blue eyes went cold as ice for a moment.
"Do what you need to do Severus…and if you need my help, I expect you to come to me. Do you understand?" the Headmaster said, his eyes still dark with anger. "Especially if the Dark Lord was involved. It is bad enough he slaughters wizards and witches in the street, but to have his evil reach into the womb to destroy the most innocent of us all is too much, and I will gladly stand by your side if you choose to face him. I mean that Severus. Do not forget me if that situation should arise."
"Thank you Albus. I may have to take you up on that offer," Severus replied, tossing in some floo powder and stepping through the floo.
An hour later, a lone robed figure walked across the grounds of Hogwarts beneath the half moon's light. A shovel rested on his shoulder, and he carried a lantern. He walked until he came to a small garden, and a tiny, white marble marker. He stood there several moments…looking down on the tiny grave. There was no one but the moon and the stars to witness the wetness forming in his coal-black eyes.
Severus set the lantern down where it would shed the best light, swallowed, then steeled himself.
He began to dig.
The Potions Master walked swiftly across the grounds, carrying a lantern and a small oblong box tucked securely under his arm. He didn't enter the castle through the main doors, but instead walked around to a little used vine-covered door that opened directly on to the dungeon corridor.
He unwarded his office door, entered then warded it back, walking quickly toward his lab. He entered and gently set the small coffin on his counter and cast a stasis spell on it. He wasn't sure how the air would interact with his son's remains.
Severus pulled up a stool and sat down a little distance from the counter and stared at the small casket. Hermione had been almost five months when she lost the baby. Poppy had suggested they let her dispose of the remains, but neither Severus nor Hermione wanted that. He was still their child and deserved a proper burial. Only he, Hermione, Albus and Filch were at the gravesite. Severus had carried the casket himself, and also placed it in the grave as Hermione sobbed brokenly.
Filch stood off a ways respectfully, a shovel on his shoulder. He would fill in the child's grave when his parents left. As gnarled and bad-tempered as he was, the old caretaker couldn't help sympathizing with their grief. His eyes brimmed with tears as he heard the wails of the poor baby's mother. Albus stood by gravely, looking a bit older than what he was, his eyes also wet behind the half-moon glasses.
Severus' jaw was tightly locked as he looked down on the small casket. His son was gone before he even had a chance to see the world. Severus had small dreams of a little infant boy or girl he could bounce on his knee, a child he could be kind to and show love to, unlike his own father, a child he would teach every secret he knew concerning herbs and potions, one who he would watch graduate from Hogwarts with the best marks in a hundred years, eclipsing even Hermione's brilliance.
A single tear leaked from the Potions Master's eye, and he made no move to contain it as it coursed down his cheek, under his chin and dripped on to his dress robes.
Albus said but a few words, then the service was done. Severus had to gently pull the grieving Hermione from the gravesite. She didn't want to leave her child in the cold earth. Filch waited until they disappeared over a rise in the landscape, then set about his duty, forming a little mound.
"Poor little tyke," the caretaker said to the mound of earth, "Don't worry. I'll keep it pretty here for you. I'll plant flowers and such, little berry bushes to bring the bees, birds and rabbits. They'll buzz, sing and nibble. You won't be alone. You'll always be surrounded by life, little one."
Filch was as good as his word. He tended Jacob's grave as if he had been his own child. Hermione's grief had moved the old caretaker's hard heart, and he wanted it pretty anytime she came there to visit.
Severus sighed as his looked at the oak casket. He removed his robes, and rolled up his shirtsleeves, then set about collecting the knives, bowls and solutions he would need to test the remaining tissues. He too hoped he would find nothing out of the ordinary. It would be much kinder if life retreated simply because it wasn't time.
Everything arranged, Severus blinked down at the casket for several moments, his heart pounding. Finally, he inserted a small crowbar-like instrument and began wedging the small coffin open. When the edges were all loosened, he sat the tool on the counter, and returned to the stool to stare at the casket a bit longer. He had known it would be difficult, but thought he would be stronger than this.
After another half an hour, he steeled himself.
"I must do this. For Jacob, for Hermione, for myself," he said to himself and he strode over to the coffin and opened it.
Severus worked tirelessly through the night, cutting and testing, examining and testing the small pieces of flaky tissue. He found something that should not have been there and isolated it with a stasis spell. He then carefully replaced the small body and tissue samples back in the coffin and sealed it with his wand. He covered it with a cloth.
Using his wand and several solutions he tested the abnormal tissue until he identified the substance.
His face turned terrible as he whispered, "Murdered. My son, my child was murdered in the womb."
The Mordres Potion. An illegal elixir created for the sole purpose of ending pregnancy. The wizarding world was decidedly pro-life. To even have this potion in one's possession meant ten years in Azkaban prison. It took months to create, requiring weeks of applied heat, fermentation and precisely timed additions of the rare herbs necessary to bring it to potency. A very small amount caused the uterus to expel its contents. The potion cost a small fortune to make, and required a Master to brew it properly. It came in two forms. Liquid and finely powdered, the powdered form being the most potent, activated if inhaled, or somehow came in contact with any damp portion of the body where it would be absorbed into the skin or tissue.
Yes, this potion required a very skilled Potions Master to brew it, but any Potions Master found brewing such an elixir would be disbarred and forced to serve twenty-five years minimum in Azkaban. Severus knew every practicing Potions Master of note in the wizarding world, and none of them were of the character to create such an elixir for any price.
But what about Potions Masters who weren't practicing? Those who had been disbarred and served their sentences, and were released at the time he and Hermione married. There couldn't have been that many. The Ministry kept records of released prisoners and their whereabouts, even after serving their full sentences.
Hm, Ronald Weasley worked in the Ministry. Maybe he could…no…no. Albus could easily request any records and they would be delivered to him. The Headmaster already agreed to help him face Voldemort. He would most certainly requisition the records of all disbarred Potions Masters released before Hermione became pregnant. Severus would ask him to do it tomorrow morning.
After going over the names, he might just have to pay one or two of those disbarred Potions Masters a visit and find out if any had done any under the cauldron brewing shortly before their loss. And if so, for who?
Severus' eyes glittered with vengeance.
Someone had intentionally caused Hermione to miscarry. What he needed to know now was how Hermione was infected with this potion? Did someone slip it into her food at the Three Broomsticks, or did she inadvertently inhale it?
He needed that pensieve.
Hermione was sound asleep when there was a knock on her door. She sat up quickly, first turning up the single torch then pointing her wand at the door. Shit, it had to be at least five in the morning.
"Go away. My room is off limits!" she shouted at the door.
"Not if you let me in it isn't," replied a female voice.
Female? Hermione's brows lifted. There was a female deatheater at her door?
"Who are you? What do you want?" Hermione called at the door.
"It's Bellatrix LeStrange. I wanted to see how you are doing," the gray-eyed witch said, grinning wickedly on the other side of the door.
"Are you alone?" Hermione asked her, rising from the bed.
"Do you think I would bring any of those pigs with me? I abhor them all," Bella replied.
Hermione thought about this, then unwarded the door. She leveled her wand at it.
"Come in, slowly…both hands empty and in front of you," Hermione breathed, ready to hex.
Slowly the knob turned and the door swung open. A pair of pale, feminine hands turned palm up entered first, followed by the curvaceous body of Bellatrix LeStrange. The witch twisted her hands at Hermione.
"Nothing up my sleeves," she said, smiling at Hermione in a way that looked distinctly carnivorous. Bella eyed the upraised wand. "May I put my hands down now?"
Hermione nodded, and slowly lowered her wand…but she didn't put it away. She still remembered Bellatrix from the Department of Mysteries. The witch was vicious and violent.
"How can I help you, Bellatrix?" Hermione asked her.
Bella leveled her gray eyes at Hermione speculatively, as if sizing her up. The witch noticed Hermione had not put away her wand. She was cautious. She was wise to be.
"The rest of the girls and I were curious what the witch who dumped Severus Snape was like," Bella said, "When he took up with you, there were quite a few disappointed females here at the stronghold. Severus was a real stud. He could go for hours…I myself can remember one time…"
"I really don't care to hear about my ex-husband's sexual prowess with other women, Bellatrix. I assure you, I am very familiar with what he is capable of, thank you," Hermione said evenly. "In fact, since he is free now I imagine he will be most accommodating if you wanted a repeat performance."
Bellatrix turned her mouth downward a bit.
"You would think that wouldn't you. I mean after going from that…" Here she pointed at Hermione, "to this…" and she pointed at herself, "You wouldn't think he'd be able to resist someone as prime as I am. But Severus hasn't touched anyone here…or anywhere as far as I know, since you divorced him."
Hermione just looked at her, a bit of disbelief on her face. Severus had a very strong sex drive. It was hard to believe he wasn't fucking anyone. Bella's eyes narrowed.
"You didn't hit him with an Impotence spell before you divorced him, did you?" Bella asked in a "you can tell me" voice.
"Of course I didn't. Severus can shag who he wants. If he doesn't want you…then that's something between you and him. I could care less," Hermione spat.
"Do you ever miss him? Those cold lonely nights?" Bella asked her.
Hermione sat down and looked up at the witch in exasperation.
"I thought you came here to find out about me. Sounds like you want to know more about my ex-husband than me," she said her eyes narrowed.
"Of course we do. You are only interesting because you had him exclusively to yourself for five years…oh…did I say five? I didn't mean that. Let me correct myself. You were married for three of those five years but not intimate for two and a half," Bella said, a nasty smile on her face.
Hermione was taken aback.
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked her. "That was personal information."
"Not after your divorce became public. You included other grounds for divorce other than being muggle-born. That was available to anyone who wanted to read it in the Ministry records. It was popular reading around here for a while. Even our Lord got a good laugh out of it. Severus was a laughingstock. Everyone started kicking his ass in the arena too," Bella said, enjoying telling Hermione all this.
"It was hilarious. You moved out of his bedroom. Suspected him of cheating because he was gone days at a time. Hadn't engaged in intercourse with him for two and a half years. Sent all of his clothing back to Hogwarts…gods it was too much. How did he keep from killing you?" Bella laughed. "Particularly since you lost his child. I don't understand why he just didn't abandon you right then. After all, he only married you because you were pregnant, am I right? Why did he stick around and take all that abuse from you? The only good thing that came from it though was he was an animal in the arena. He fought three or four wizards at once sometimes almost killing all of them. He was something to see then. But after the divorce?"
Bella held one arm out, then let it flop dramatically.
"He was nothing," she said, " Wizards half his size were kicking his ass all around the throne room. The fight with the deatheaters last night was the first fight he'd won in more than a year. The Dark Lord thinks it's because of your presence. So naturally we witches were curious as to what you had that made Severus respond as he did. Whatever it is, I certainly can't see it," Bella said with a sneer, looking Hermione up and down as if she were garbage. "It's a shame that Severus is so ruined in his tastes now, he can only respond to a filthy mudblood."
Hermione stood up, pointing her wand directly between Bellatrix's eyes.
"All right Bellatrix, you have officially worn out your welcome and pissed me off. Get the fuck out of my room before I blast your pale ass through the door," Hermione said, her amber eyes flashing.
Bellatrix backed toward the door slowly.
"Careful, little mudblood. You wouldn't want the females after you like the males are. Only lust wouldn't be our motive. Humiliation would. We have lots of little toys we use on each other when we're bored…" she said, her lips drawn up in a lascivious smile. "We have dildos much bigger than that monster of a wand Severus has. But you might find that…pleasant."
"Get out, Bellatrix. I'm warning you," Hermione said evenly.
Bella turned and exited out the door…then stuck her head back in.
"This is what a girl gets for trying to be friendly?" she asked, her eyes slitted.
"GET OUT!" Hermione seethed, slamming and warding the door with her wand. Bella extracted her head just in time.
Hermione dropped back on the bed.
"Fuck," she said to herself, "Now I have the witches as well as the wizards after me. Voldemort's reign is worse than Caligula's"
She lay back down in the bed and tried to catch a few more winks.
She hoped Severus had some news when she saw him tonight.
Severus. So he hadn't returned to the arms of the female deatheaters? And she hadn't known the details of their divorce were made public knowledge, but she should have figured they would be. Theirs was the first wizarding divorce in many, many, many years. And the fighting? Severus was a powerful fighter. Had their divorce taken that much out of him that he had been a punching bag for deatheaters for the past year? How horrible.
Hermione realized that she hadn't thought about how Severus was coping with their divorce. But he had said he wanted to walk away. All she had done was let him do it. He was supposed to be happy. She had always assumed he was, since he was out of a miserable marriage like he wanted. He had wanted it, hadn't he?
She lay there thinking about when she got the owl from his solicitor, asking to meet with her for an attempt at reconciliation. How she had torn the parchment to bits in a fit of rage. Then how he had tried to offer her what a wife deserved from her spouse. Support, assets. She threw those back at him as well.
She began to think. She accused him of cheating on her, when he was simply gone like he was always gone…doing his work for the Order. She accused him of cheating on her when she had left his bed, denying him sex. If he had gone elsewhere…it would have been her own fault. She realized she had made up the charge to justify treating him badly and escalating the arguments that occurred more and more. As Hermione thought about this, her mind turned to the arguments themselves. How she would walk in on Severus quietly reading a Potions magazine and start in on him, cursing and brow-beating him for no other reason than he was there to target. He never once cursed her back. He would leave or go to his room and ward the door while she raged outside it.
He never really said anything truly hurtful until he got mad and said she made him miserable and wished he could walk away. But had he meant it? When she said all the terrible things she said to him, had she meant them or was she lashing out because of Jacob, having no one else to heap her anger and grief on other than her husband? Did Severus finally reach the breaking point and purposely say something to hurt her as badly as she was hurting him?
Today, he corrected her and said they had both lost a child. That Jacob was his son too, and he also felt grief. Hermione was realizing that she had treated Jacob's death as something that affected her alone. No one else could possibly understand how it was to carry a child in your womb and lose it.
But that child was Severus' child as well. He placed his ear against her belly to try and hear the tiny heartbeat constantly, and would rub her belly, saying he wanted the baby to know his touch. He was constantly proclaiming that his child would not be a dunderhead like the majority of idiot children in the wizarding world. He had dreams invested in Jacob. He may not have carried him physically, but he carried their child in his heart. Not only had he lost Jacob, but he had lost her too.
Hermione had promised him, sworn to him that she would never break his heart.
She had lied.
For Hermione, it was like waking up from a terrible drug-induced existence. Suddenly, she was able to stand on the outside of the situation and look in on herself. She didn't like what she saw. She wasn't sure what woke her up. Was it Bellatrix telling her all what Severus went through after the divorce, or was it Severus, telling her that her miscarriage might have been intentional?
Gods, what had she done to him? What had she done to them? Jacob was gone, but Severus was still alive, and he had needed her care as much as her child did. Someone may have murdered their child, but Hermione herself had murdered their relationship just as effectively as if she had plunged a knife into Severus' heart.
Hermione lay there in the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as self-recrimination piled on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. But it wasn't her chest that was heavy, it was her heart.
It was feeling again.
Early the next morning, Severus was awakened by furious banging on his office door. He quickly grabbed his robe, tied it, picked up his wand, strode through his study, opened the wall and walked into his office. Whoever was knocking on the door was hitting it so hard, it was shuddering. Scowling, Severus unwarded the door and yanked it open, prepared to light into the cretin who dared pound on it so loudly.
To his surprise he saw a distraught Argus Filch standing there, his eyes full of tears.
"They've stolen him. They've dug him up and taken him, Professor. Your boy. Your sweet boy," the craggy caretaker gasped. His scraggly hair was plastered to his head as if he had run all the way to the dungeons. He had, though he ached terribly because of it.
Severus looked at the caretaker. He had noticed his son's grave was well maintained, but never knew how much the old squib had invested in caring for Jacob and his final resting place. Severus' eyes softened for a moment.
"He hasn't been taken, Argus. He's been exhumed," Severus said to the distraught squib.
Argus looked at him wide eyed.
"Exhumed, Professor?" the caretaker asked. It was clear to see he was relieved that someone knew what happened to the child's remains.
"Yes. I took him last night. I …I had to test his remains," Severus said. He hesitated…wondering if he should tell the squib what he found out. Filch clearly cared about Jacob, for what reason the Potions Master didn't know. He decided to tell him.
"His loss was no accident, Argus. Someone caused Hermione to miscarry," Severus said to him.
Filch's face screwed up horribly.
"Murder!" he hissed, "Murder of the worst kind, Professor. Do you know who did it? Do you need help hunting the monster down? Give him to me. Give him to me and I will make him suffer."
Severus was taken aback by the venom in Argus' declaration. It was well known the squib kept an assortment of chains and whips. The Potions Master didn't doubt the man knew how to torture. That he was willing to punish someone for his child's death moved Severus.
"No Argus, I don't know yet. But I intend to find out…there will be retribution for Jacob's death, I assure you. Come in," Severus said, stepping aside.
Argus hesitated. He had never been invited into the dour wizard's abode before. But he entered warily. Severus turned and walked toward the lab.
"Come with me, Argus," he said.
The old caretaker followed Severus into the lab, looking at his equipment with interest until his rheumy old eyes fell on the covered casket.
"There's the boy," he said gently.
Severus looked at the covered casket quietly for a moment, swallowing hard several times before he spoke, his voice sounding tight.
"Argus, please take him back for me and lay him to rest. He's told me all he can," Severus said.
"Aye, Professor. I will lay him down gently to be disturbed no more," Argus said to the Potions Master, who swallowed hard again at the caretaker's words.
Argue gently lifted the casket, the cloth intact and left the lab.
Severus stood there, not able to follow.
"My son," he said hoarsely, "I will avenge you."
After breakfast, Severus visited the Headmaster and told him of his findings.
Albus' face darkened.
"The Mordres Potion has been banned for decades. Only a very talented Potions Master could brew such a horrible elixir," the Headmaster said.
"Yes," Severus agreed, "But of the qualified Masters I know, not one of them would risk disbarment or Azkaban. I was thinking that a former Potions Master might agree to brew such a potion if the price were right. I was hoping, Albus…"
"That I would requisition the records of all former Potions Masters released before Hermione became pregnant," Albus finished for him.
"Precisely," Severus said, glad that the Headmaster was so quick on the uptake.
"I will contact the Ministry immediately," Albus said, "And will get the names and residences of all who fall into that category. Then we will pay each of them a little visit."
Severus looked at him.
"We, Headmaster?" Severus repeated.
"Yes, we…along with a few doses of veritaserum. I am tired of sitting on my ass while evil goes on around me, Severus. You are like a son to me. Jacob would have been equally as dear, especially since he represented something good in your life, something wonderful that you never dreamed you'd have. A son. And someone took him from you. I cannot begin to tell you my rage over this murderous act. I will not let you face this alone. You have been alone for too long now in your service. You will not be alone in your search for justice for your son."
The two wizards sat in silence for a moment. Then Dumbledore's blue eyes seemed to glow with an inner power.
"And if Voldemort's scaled hands have manipulated any part of this horror, then I will go with you to his very throne room to punish him, Severus," the old wizard said.
Suddenly the air was full of magic swirling about both wizards, their hair lifted by the force of it. Albus had taken a wizard's oath to enter Voldemort's stronghold if need be.
"Albus!" Severus protested.
The wizard held up his hand to silence him.
"It is too late for protests, Severus. What's done is done. I am with you now," the Headmaster said evenly.
Severus fell silent. There was nothing he could do but accept Albus' help. He was an ally and an army. Most likely he would need him if Voldemort were indeed at the bottom of Jacob's murder. Then he thought of the other reason he was here.
"Headmaster, do you have a small pensieve? I need one to collect Hermione's memories of the day she miscarried.
Albus rose.
"Certainly Severus," he said, walking over to his bookshelf and waving his hand.
A false front opened, revealing a niche. Inside the niche were pensieves stacked inside each other, alternating from largest to the smallest, which was the size of a thimble. After rattling through them, Albus chose one that could fit easily in Severus' palm.
He walked over and handed the small blue bowl to the Potions Master.
"There you go, Severus. I sincerely hope it helps," he said as the dark wizard rose from his chair.
The two men looked at each other, then Albus gave him a fatherly embrace.
"I don't envy you telling Hermione what you've discovered, Severus. She is going to be livid. I've always believed there was something more to that little witch. Something that remains untapped and undiscovered. You have to keep her calm, Severus. Don't let her go off half-brewed," Albus warned.
"Yes, Headmaster. Hermione is very volatile. She showed me that much the last years of our marriage," Severus said a bit bitterly.
Albus looked at Severus kindly.
"It may well be, Severus, that this news may make her rethink her actions of the past few years. Pain, grief and resentment can cloud a person's perceptions, make them act in a way that is not their true character. You yourself experienced that for many years before you found her. You know what it is to lash out when you find yourself in a situation you can't control. With Hermione, you were happy my boy. She brought out the best in you."
"The loss of Jacob caused a loss of herself…her heart was hurt and closed up in order not to feel any more hurt, then she drove away any and everything that could possibly hurt her further. Unfortunately, that was you, Severus. Love can hurt most of all and in her state of mind, she removed it to protect herself. That was something she could control, something she was not helpless against."
"Finding out that Jacob's death was not an accident will take away that sense of helplessness…as horrible as it is…it will put her on the path to healing, after the rage and need for revenge have been met. But the question is, Severus, if you see a change in her, will you help her heal? Will you be healed with her? If there is an inkling of hope that you both can be restored, will you try for happiness again?"
Severus looked at him.
"I don't know if I can, Albus. I just don't know," he replied.
Albus looked at him, his blue eyes twinkling again.
"At least you didn't say no, my boy. And that is encouraging," he said, patting him on his shoulder. "Now go, take that pensieve to Hermione…oh, and before you go, here is the increase in the Order's ranks. Give that to Voldemort. It will please him to know how many Order members there are."
Albus handed Severus a slip of parchment off his desk, stamped with the official Order emblem. It would look as if Severus stole it off the Headmaster's very desk.
"Just tell him you took it when my back was turned. He'll love the treachery," Albus suggested.
"Yes Headmaster. Thank you," Severus said appreciatively, heading for the floo.
He stepped through, and Albus returned to his desk.
Fawkes, who had been watching their exchange, let out a powerful trumpet, startling the Headmaster.
Albus turned to the Phoenix, his bushy eyebrows raised almost to his scalp.
"A war cry, Fawkes? I haven't heard that song from you since I battled Grindelwald back in forty-five. Perhaps I'd better focus on a contingency plan for the Dark Lord, just in case," he said thoughtfully.
The Phoenix bobbed his head and trilled in agreement.
Dumbledore considered.
"A gift is appropriate, I think," he mused.
Severus returned to his rooms and immediately donned his deatheater gear. Placing the pensieve and parchment in his robes pocket, he apparated to the Dark Lord's stronghold.
He appeared with a clap of thunder to find the Dark Lord quite busily engaged on his throne with Bellatrix. The naked witch was inverted with her head in his lap, sucking his undulating organ with gusto and moaning as the Dark Lord used his snake-like tongue to taste and explore her. Several deatheaters lined the wall, watching them and masturbating. Gods, what a den of iniquity.
Severus knelt where he stood with his eyes on the floor and waited until they finished.
He didn't have long to wait as Bellatrix's shrill cry of climax rent the throne room, followed by the Dark Lord's high-pitched groan as he released, rounded off by the grunts of ejaculating deatheaters.
Severus was thoroughly disgusted. The entire throne room smelled like a barnyard.
The Dark Lord released Bella, and the witch kissed him, then unashamedly picked up her robes and pulled them on, fastening them only up to where her cleavage showed, as Voldemort panted and recovered slowly, his tool at rest on his thigh, sated. He began to button his robes.
Bellatrix strolled down the stairs of the throne and walked very close to Severus.
"See what you are missing, wizard?" she asked.
Severus scowled. He didn't want anything the Dark Lord had defiled.
Fully dressed now, the Dark Lord noticed Severus.
"Rise and approach Severus," he said.
"Thank you my Lord," Severus replied, reaching in his pocket and withdrawing the parchment as he walked toward the throne. Once before it, he again knelt, his eyes lowered, offering the parchment.
"What is that, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked him.
"The latest number of the ranks of the Order, my Lord," he said.
"Arise and give it to me, my faithful servant," Voldemort said.
Severus rose and stepped up the steps a ways to pass the parchment to his Lord, then returned to the floor. Voldemort scanned the parchment, then looked at Severus sharply.
"This has the seal of the Order on it Severus. How did you acquire an official Order document?" he asked the Potions Master, his forked tongue flicking out with interest.
"I was in the Headmaster's office, and took it off his desk when his back was turned," Severus replied.
The Dark Lord smiled.
"Albus has always been a careless fool. Still, my deatheaters outnumber Order members two to one. Thank you for this, Severus," Voldemort said, pleased. Then his eyes narrowed.
"I suppose you wish to see the mudblood?" he asked Severus.
"I would like to, my Lord," Severus replied.
"I hope you are not thinking of forgiving her Severus. It would be unseemly, considering the dishonor she's caused you. In my opinion you still owe her a sound beating," he hissed.
"Forgiveness, nor anything else has crossed my mind concerning the witch, my Lord. It is simply curiosity as to how she is coping that makes me want to see her. I hope she is suffering anguish," Severus replied.
The Potions Master made sure to keep his occulmency walls well shut, allowing only thoughts and memories of classes and other insignificant happenings to show through. It wouldn't do to let the Dark Lord know of his discovery concerning his son.
Voldemort nodded with approval.
"Yes, I imagine knowing she was in dire straits would be satisfying to you, Severus. She has not been taken by my deatheaters yet, though there have been several attempts this morning. She has the most amazing spell she uses. A burst of power from her wand tip that sends balls of energy to match the exact number of attackers, effectively cutting them down. If it caused death it would be quite an effective weapon for the Final Battle. I am considering asking her to adapt it for me. Out of fairness, I won't give the spell to my deatheaters to use on her. Currently, they are not allowed to use magic to try to take her. If she pleases me…it will remain that way. You may go, Severus," the Dark Lord said, waving his hand at the wizard dismissively.
Severus bowed.
"Thank you my Lord," he said.
As he approached the door leading to Hermione's room, three deatheaters walked up to him.
The Potions Master stopped and glared at them for blocking his way.
"Severus, lure the mudblood out of her room for us. We'll do any service for you that you want in exchange," one randy wizard said to him.
Severus pushed him out of the way in irritation. The wizard bristled and started to charge his retreating back, when he companion stopped him.
"He's back in form. He'll beat you senseless if you go for him," the deatheater advised his angry comrade. "We'll get her…just be patient. Without the other witches, she doesn't stand a chance."
The deatheaters departed to find other things to occupy their time.
Severus knocked on Hermione's door.
"Get the fuck out of here!" Hermione called out.
Severus smirked despite himself.
"Hermione, it's Severus," he said through the door in a loud voice.
He heard her whisper a spell, then he opened the door and entered to find the tip of her wand in his face. She lowered it immediately.
"Better safe than raped," she said, shrugging, then sitting down on her bed.
Severus looked at her a moment, then closed the door behind him. Hermione quickly warded the door and put a silencing spell on it. She looked up at him.
Severus immediately noticed something different about the witch. It wasn't anything he could see. It was more like something he could feel…as if she were breathing again. It was very strange. He sat down on the bed beside her as she looked at him attentively. He took a deep breath.
"It is as I feared. The miscarriage was no accident," he said to the witch, expecting an explosion. But Hermione simply looked at him. "It was a potion called Mordres, an illegal substance…"
"Used for abortions," Hermione finished for him. "It comes in liquid and powdered form, the powdered form being most potent. It is virtually undetectable, having no taste or odor. It can be consumed, breathed in or absorbed through damp skin. And it was used to kill my baby. Our baby."
"Yes," Severus agreed, still waiting for the outburst of rage.
It still didn't come. Instead, Hermione's eyes took on a deadly intensity.
"They killed my baby and caused me to ruin my marriage," she said in a low voice, seeming to stare at the loo. "They took away the two things that mattered most in my life. My child and my husband."
Severus looked at her, and scowled.
"If I remember correctly, it was no "they" who handed me the divorce papers. It was you and only you, Hermione," he said coldly.
Hermione turned her amber eyes on him. They looked like they used to look, not full of resentment.
"I know," she said softly.
Severus almost expected her to add "I'm sorry," but she didn't. Instead her eyes hardened.
"We need to find out who brewed the potion," she said, her voice controlled, "then who had it made or who purchased it. Most likely a disbarred Potions Master who needed money created it. All we need is a list of wizards released from Azkaban before we married. We can work from there."
Severus looked at her, an eyebrow arched. Gods, the witch was smart. It had taken him some time to figure out what to do. It took her less than a minute.
"Albus is already on it. He has taken a Wizard's Oath to help me if Voldemort is involved," the Potions Master said.
Hermione nodded.
Severus couldn't get over how calm she appeared, though her rage was palpable.
"Do you have the pensieve?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied taking the small blue bowl out of his pocket.
Hermione took it from him and raised her wand to her head. She concentrated a moment. Severus could see emotions washing over her, though she tried to hide them. Finally she tapped the wand to her head and drew out one, then two silver strands, depositing them in the pensive. Her thoughts swirled in the small bowl, glinting. She tapped the pensieve, sealing it so the thoughts wouldn't spill, then handed it back to Severus.
"Study it, Severus. Find out who poisoned me and killed our son," she said looking at him, her eyes shining in a frightening way. It was as if inside…she had gone mad. "Find them and let me kill them," she hissed. "I wish I could kill them a thousand times."
Severus stared at her, uncomfortable at the controlled rage. This was not Hermione's normal reaction.
"Are you all right?" he asked her worriedly. He was afraid she would explode after he left and be killed by Voldemort.
She looked at him.
"No, I am not all right. I've just discovered my child was murdered in my womb. That there is someone responsible for his death who is just walking about freely. I am not all right, Severus. I am as far from all right as I can be. But I won't tip our hand. I will bide my time, then get my revenge somehow," she said evenly…only the slightest quaver in her voice betraying the depth of her emotion.
Well, he was glad of that at least, though he was still disturbed by her calm.
"I'm going to need to talk to you, Severus. After all this is over," she said, not looking at him but staring at the loo again. "There are things I need to say to you, provided I survive to say them. I will give up my life to take our child's murderer to Hell," she said softly.
Then she turned her eyes on him.
"Go, Severus," she said, "Go find out what happened."
Then she fell silent, her breasts rising and falling from restraining herself. Severus didn't like it. He still didn't trust her to maintain control.
"Are you sure you can handle this? I can do a small obliviate…" he offered.
"No. I'll be fine. Find out who poisoned me," she said flatly.
Severus rose reluctantly, then headed for the door.
He unwarded and opened it, then turned to her…but before he could speak, Hermione said, "I know. Ward the door."
Severus closed his mouth and left her room, placing the pensieve in his robes pocket.
He hoped she didn't blow.
Professor Pomona Sprout, the Herbology teacher, huffed and puffed as Argus led her with his quick, arthritic stride to the small garden area. She looked at the marker and turned to Filch.
"Jacob Dante Snape?" she asked. "I didn't know about this, Argus."
Filch shook his head.
"No, Professor. You wouldn't have. It was a private ceremony. Only the parents and the Headmaster were in attendance. You see, the boy passed on before he was born."
Pomona's eyes glistened.
"How sad," she said sympathetically. She noticed the overturned earth on the small grave. "Was it recent?"
Filch realized that she noticed the earth on the grave was new. He didn't want to tell her the child had been exhumed. That would lead to too many questions, and the Herbology teacher was a terrible gossip.
"No, Professor. It's been about four years. I turn the dirt over sometimes to keep it looking pretty here."
Pomona looked around.
"You certainly do keep it pretty, Argus. It must comfort his parents very much," she said.
"I do it for the boy. He never got a chance to see the world, and if he had he probably would have seen the ugliness. I keep it pretty here for him. Show him it can be beautiful, too," the caretaker said.
The Herbology teacher's eyes glistened a bit at this.
"And you want to know if I can make this garden self-maintaining?" she asked.
"Yes," Argus said, "I'm thinking of taking a long trip, and I hate to think it will not be tended. Hagrid could probably do it…but he's not consistent. I just want to know Jacob will keep a nice place when I'm gone."
Pomona wondered where the old squib was planning to go, but didn't ask.
"I'll be happy to set the site up to perpetually care for itself. It's wonderful that you care so much, Argus," she said kindly.
Filch gave her a perfectly horrendous smile, then did a kind of scrabbly, painful looking, spidery dance. The witch winced a little.
"Thank you, Professor," he said gratefully, his bent form bowing as best his could.
He was bent because his back hurt him from the running he had done earlier to inform the Potions Master of his son's disappearance. As a matter of fact, Argus was always in some kind of pain. Even pain potions didn't help much anymore, he had taken so many over the years. He was an old man, still working, still chasing and cleaning up after muddleheaded, rule-breaking students. He had no rest. And he was tired…very, very tired.
"You're welcome, Argus," the witch replied, rolling up her voluminous sleeves and extracting her wand.
Argus watched her work, a sense of peace dropping over him. The boy would always be surrounded by beauty.
Argus returned to his rooms, locked his door, then walked over to the wall. He slid back a portion of it, revealing a wall safe. He slowly turned the dial of the combination lock and opened it. The little safe was chock full of galleons. He had very little to spend them on.
The squib scooped a large amount of coins into a bag, tied it and closed his safe, sealing it behind the panel again. He then picked up two port keys. He could use these particular port keys because they were magical objects that worked by pressing a button, and didn't require him to be magical in order to use them. They worked on squibs and/or muggles. Part of a line of magical devices Fred and George Weasley developed to tap into the resources of the squib community.
The first port key would take him to Diagon Alley and back to Hogwarts. The second port key would take him to muggle London, then back to his point of origin. He could use them on the castle grounds. Filch picked up a leather pouch with a long shoulder strap that looked as if he'd had it all his life. He put the sack of galleons in it, and one of the port keys. He held the other, which was a functional cigarette lighter in his hand and pressed the button. The lighter glowed blue and he was gone.
Argus arrived at Diagon Alley feeling nauseous and disoriented. He hated port key travel, but it was the quickest way to get around. He appeared right in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, just where he wanted to be. The old caretaker pushed the door to the shop open and walked right in and up to the counter. He banged on it snarkily and an irritated looking clerk appeared from the back room, frowning at the squib.
"I need to see Fred and George," Argus said, scowling at the clerk.
"Yes sir," the clerk responded a bit rudely, walking back into the office. After a moment he reappeared. "Go right in."
Filch stalked around the counter and walked into the office of Fred and George Weasley. All kinds of certificates and awards hung haphazardly on the back wall of the office. Two desks sat in opposite corners of the room, flanked by file cabinets. All kinds of gadgets lay scattered about…presumably products they were working on There was a long table in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs. On the opposite side of the table sat Fred and George Weasley, looking absolutely delighted.
"Filch! Good to see your smiling face again," George said to the scowling squib as he sat down slowly across from them.
"Yes. You're like a bit of sunshine in the midst of storm, you are," Fred agreed.
Both started laughing hysterically. Filch grimaced even more.
"Stop your foolishness you two," Filch growled at them, reaching into his pouch, withdrawing the sack of galleons and plunking it down on the table. "I got business to conduct."
Both Fred and George sobered immediately. If anything got the twin's attention, it was the clink of galleons.
"What can we do for you, Mr. Filch?" Fred asked, his manners much improved by the appearance of coinage.
"I need something special. Something a squib can use. If anyone has such a thing, it would be you two mischievous bastards. I need a port key that can track a wizard and take me to him. One I can operate," he said, glaring at the twins.
Fred and George looked at each other.
"Why do you need it?" George asked. He hoped Filch wasn't planning on killing anybody.
Filch seemed to realize that he had to be relatively honest to get their cooperation.
"I want to help somebody who probably wouldn't let me help him otherwise," he replied evasively.
The twins' eyebrows went up. Filch actually helping somebody? Amazing.
"Ah, a good deed then," Fred said.
"Selfless service," George intoned.
"Sounds like a worthy exploit," Fred said, rising behind the table and hopping over it using one hand. "I think we can fix you up, Mr. Filch…but it's going to cost you."
"Of course it is," Argus growled.
Fred smirked at him.
"I'll be right back," Fred said, leaving the office.
George folded his hands and looked at the squib. He looked to be almost two hundred years old. How the hell did he keep going?
"So, care to give me any details about this good deed you're going to do, Filch?" he asked hopefully. Filch was the meanest, orneriest squib he knew. The fact that he contained the redeeming quality of helpfulness came as quite a surprise.
"No, I don't care to, and I don't want my business with you repeated," Filch snarled at him.
George threw up his hands.
"Mr. Filch, you wound me. All transactions at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes are confidential. We keep out of trouble that way," he said amicably.
"Well you'd both better keep your mouths shut tight about this," Filch said, scowling at him.
Fred returned to the office, hopped back over the desk, skimming Argus in the process and sat down. He opened his palm, revealing a flattened disk with a glowing jewel on one end and a red and green button on top.
"This is from our "Secret Surveillance" line. It's called "The Track-a-Port". Something we've been working on for use by the Ministry Aurors. You simply point the jewel at the person you wish to track and press the red button. The signature is captured and converted to a port key destination point. The button will turn blue if you've got him right. When you want to locate him, you simply press the green button and it works like a port key. You land about twenty feet from your target. Of course, you will be seen…but we're working on adding a disillusionment spell."
Filch looked at the object. It was exactly what he needed.
"How much?" he asked.
Fred and George looked at Filch.
"Twenty thousand galleons," they both said together.
Filch nearly had a heart attack. He clutched his chest and both wizards looked alarmed.
"Twenty thousand galleons? I don't have that kind of money," the squib gasped.
Actually, Filch did have it. He just didn't want to spend it.
"Here now, Filch, hold on a minute. Don't go dying on us. We aren't going to try to charge you that," George said desperately as Fred quickly poured the gasping squib a glass of never-ending ice water from a pitcher on the table and slid it over to him.
Filch drank a bit of it, and looked calmer. The two proprietors sighed in relief. A customer dying during a transaction would be very bad for business.
"Listen, this has never been tested in the field before…so we are willing to give it to you for that sack of galleons and a written statement of how well it works to use in its marketing. You willing to do that, Mr. Filch?"
Filch did the calculations in his head. The sack contained about three hundred galleons. It was quite a markdown.
"Yes, I'll do it," he griped, though he was quite pleased with the arrangement.
Fred slid the device over to Filch, while George grabbed the sack.
"There you go, Mr. Filch. Don't get yourself in trouble with it now," George said, looking into the sack and smiling broadly.
Filch rose, grunted and left the office.
Fred watched him go, then looked at George.
"Charming chap, that Filch," he said sarcastically.
"Yep. Almost as sweet as he was when running us down in Hogwarts," George replied.
They both laughed, happy to have helped the old grouch out.
He had given them loads of entertainment at Hogwarts, after all.
Next Argus portkeyed to a rather unsavory section of muggle London. He walked a few blocks, then turned down a dirty alley. Doors lined it. He walked five doors down to a steel reinforced one, and knocked in a specific rhythm. In a moment, there was a clicking sound, and a small rectangular window opened. Two blue eyes looked out warily.
"Filch!" a voice exclaimed.
The window snapped shut, and a number of clicks sounded, then the door swung back heavily, opening on to a dark alley. A tall, rugged muggle in a white wife-beater, camouflage pants, laced up leather boots with three days worth of stubble on his chin smiled at the squib broadly.
"Hey old man. It's been a while," he said by way of greeting.
Filch nodded and stepped inside. He turned to watch the muggle reset the assorted locking devices. Then the man turned and walked up the hall into a small lighted room. It contained a table and two chairs. Some maps were on the wall, but there wasn't much else.
"What do you need today, Filch? Some more hollow points?" the muggle asked him.
Filch nodded.
"I need a small smelting machine too. Something I can use to seal them this time," the caretaker said.
Filch kept all manner of weapons. Including guns. He would fire them off in the Forbidden Forest late at night for entertainment. He had never used a gun on anything living, though he was a crack shot.
"Jacketed hollow point all right?" the muggle asked him.
Filch nodded.
"How many rounds?" he asked.
"I think I'll only be needing one. Maybe two," Filch said.
"Two it is," the muggle said, rising and exiting the room through another steel door.
Filch sat there quietly. He had been using this gun dealer for about ten years now. Guns were banned in England, though the ban didn't appear to have lessened the crime rate. Criminals still had them, and those intent on assault and murder simply used other instruments to cause death. It was a good effort any way. Filch had guns simply because he liked them.
Up to this point.
The muggle returned with two boxes of hollow points, and a clear jar of what looked like clay.
"What's that?" Filch asked, pointing at the jar.
"A moldable plastic that hardens to a steel-like strength. You can cap the bullets with this. Better than machining them. Faster and simpler too. You putting something in them?" the muggle asked curiously.
Filch nodded.
The muggle looked at him speculatively.
"You know, you don't talk much Filch. That's what I like about you. You've been coming here over ten years and I still don't know anything more than your name. Makes me feel safe," the muggle smiled at him.
"I don't even know that much about you," Filch replied, reaching into his pouch, taking out an old wallet and giving the muggle some pound notes. "And don't want to."
The muggle laughed as Filch put his purchases into his pouch.
"That's fine by me, Filch. Good doing business with you," he said rising.
Filch rose and followed the muggle back down the hall, watched him go through the locks and exited. He walked several feet then took out his port key and with a press, returned to Hogwarts.
He was almost ready.
A/N: This is the end of Part 1. There will be three more parts to this story. Thanks for reading.