I do not own HP or any part wherein, I can claim my plot and that's about it.

AN/ I haven't decided how I want this story to end, I may make it a tragedy. You are warned.

Glimmer

Lost to the World



She doesn't cry any more or try to escape. What would the point be anyway? That energy would be better suited serving the cannon, as not to get beat, maimed, or tortured. Best keep her head down and mouth shut, unless otherwise instructed.

Hermione Jean Granger is presumed dead; for all intents and purposes she is. Master Mulciber made sure of that. Not being pick of the litter, Master had to spend day and night teaching her compliance. That was the only thing she had going for her. Master Mulciber broke her in thoroughly, Number 6 didn't cringe, cower or refuse, only accepted without question.

He was due soon. Number 6 just sat waiting for the craggy face, bald wizard. When he entered, she sat eyes fixed and blank, naked on the bed waiting for instruction. "Number 6, stand." She did. The old man approached wand drawn. In the dim room he had to light his wand tip as he inspected his property. Mulciber was proud to say he had a large clientèle, most of who were regulars. It was good business to offer his fellow Deatheaters a discount, they were a randy lot. As a consequence he had to make the rounds healing the numbers or aborting foetuses. "Your hair's a mess," Mulciber fixed it with a clumsy straightening charm. It was mostly straight though not tidy." Thank me, bitch."

"Thank you Master," she was not permitted to use his surname.

"Number 6, you need to bathe. There has been a request for a brown-eyed, brown haired girl. You filled the bill, you'll entertain the client all night. He's a pal from my school days; you best treat him real good or you'll be put in the hole. Got that?"

"Yes Master." He fondled her absently and left.

The battered house elf brought her porridge and coffee. "Miss, I is bringing you meal. Your visitor will be here shortly."

She couldn't eat before, in case they wanted to cause her pain, the clients hated it when you threw up. "Thank you," she droned and carried her food over to the table. Number 6 drank the coffee. 6 could join the other numbers but there was no point, she didn't have anything to say. In the interim she took an ice cold shower, serving to cleanse away filth and body fluids but also as a reminder that all comfort of life was history.

After her shower she lay down naked in her bed, there was no point in dressing. Might as well sleep, I may not get a chance tonight.

~*~

He knocked once. No protestation offered, the Deatheater entered. He immediately warded the room for sound and infiltration before he so much as set his satchel down. A cautious individual he searched the room efficiently for concealment charms or dangerous artefacts. None discovered, the slender man removed his travelling cloak. It was cold in the room, there was no wood for the fire. "Elf." The house elf appeared then cowered before the dour man. "Bring wood for the fire, it's freezing in here." The house elf nodded, catching sight of Number 6 apparently unconscious sprawled on the bed. He was gone and back in a flash to build the fire, hoping Number 6 hadn't been beaten unconscious again.

Noticing the elf chary glance, he ordered. "Pay her no mind, she's just fine." Bowing deeply the house elf departed. The client Scourgified the bed and claustrophobic room. Once the room was sufficiently warm, he removed his dress coat and shoes, settling on the bed next to the girl. Her hair had dried in long straight clumps. In sleep she was conspicuously devoid of a normal relaxed, and peaceful quality. If her breathing wasn't so audible he would have sworn she was dead. He frowned. Maybe he should try someone else. Snape wasn't about to waste his one opportunity. He shifted slightly on the bed. Her eyes shot open, she screamed and fell off the bed in alarm. His mind changed immediately, those eyes, nearly the same colour.

Mastering herself, she stood head bowed and waited for instruction. "Look at me." Snape commanded silkily. Round and brown, two pools of drinking chocolate. Yes. Snape was fairly sure that she'd do fine; though the girl didn't have much personality, which might be a problem. "Girl, you ever role play before?" She shook her head saying nothing. "Good. This is what I expect; let me know if any of these sound to difficult before we begin. I want you to wear something I brought. I'll give you a potion to drink, it's only Polyjuice nothing to worry about." There was no worry in her face, there was nothing. "Can you smile?" Trying her best to oblige she smiled. It was a foreign experience. Something about smiling made you happier, which was a dangerous thing indeed. "Good." Enthusiastic so far, "now scowl at me." Knitting her brows and tightening her lips felt very strange, as if the act of pretending to have feelings produced them. She had recognised her former Professor instantly, and she was glad he didn't seem to know who she was. She was Number 6, no more, no less. "Excellent. Let me get a good look at you." He scooted across the bed. Wand in one hand Snape manoeuvred her with the other. He healed badly or partially healed injuries. This one's been through the mill. Blessing her with a contraception charm just in case. "Do you kiss?" He asked.

She stared at him blankly. Didn't he know that she'd hold still if he wanted to beat her? "Thy will be done," hoping that would suffice for an answer.

"I see." He recognized the Muggle sentiment and its meaning. He had but to ask. "Right then." Taking two steps over to the bag, removing the bundle, Snape held it out to her. "Not a word of this to anyone. Get dressed," Snape commanded. Turning back to his bag. Snape extracted a bottle of fire whisky and two tumblers, and a flask of Polyjuice potion. He had painstakingly powdered the hair as to achieve the greatest extraction for her transformation. Pouring the whisky he was ready. She was dressed in a Slytherin house girl's uniform. "Very good, it fits. A little loose, the Polyjuice should fix that." Adding the hair to the flask, the mud-like solution turned scarlet. Satisfied thus far, Snape gave it to her to drink.

Obediently she consumed the burnt butter flavoured potion. Snape waited on tenterhooks, holding his breath. Swapping out the flask for the tumbler, she chased it with the fire whisky. Nothing happened. Snape started to panic. "it's not working, you were supposed to transform." His whole plan washed down the drain. Maybe the hair had been kept too long. Pacing he couldn't understand what went wrong. Giving it up as a bad job Snape sat on the bed. Gathering hope, "there's one other thing I could try. Hold still, I'm going to transfigure you." Performing the charm on her hair, it billowed out in a wild snarl. He gave her a couple of well placed freckles. "Now just play along." Snape towered over her as he stepped in close. Nudging her chin up, Snape took in her deep brown eyes. "Ms. Granger, come closer," she obeyed. Snape wrapped his arms around the would-be Hermione. "I'm glad you decided to be reasonable and transfer houses. Now your brilliance is all mine, you'll be the most accomplished Slytherin ever. Pride of my house." His words came out strong and smooth. He shyly bent to kiss her. "I know I shouldn't have done that Ms. Granger. I confess my self restraint isn't what it should be." Spears of passion pierced him while kissing her deeply.

Number 6 felt now she should say something, the only thing that came to her was. "I didn't know you liked me Sir."

"Oh yes, Hermione." Touching her face, willing himself to see the bossy-know-it-all in that blank expression. "But you should be mad at me, for how I've been over the years." She scowled on cue. "I want to make it better, I want to make amends. Forgive me, please. Forgive me for what I've done." Snape was in earnest.

Smiling as previously instructed, "I forgive you, sir."

He rushed to correct her, "no please call me Severus. Say my name Hermione. Tell me you want me. I need you to want me."

"Severus I want you. I have wanted you for a long time." Snape was impressed with her perfect pick-up. Excellent. His desperation must be obvious.

"My cute little know-it-all. I never knew." Looking at her seriously, lost in the role playing, he stroked her cheek, lovingly. "I miss seeing you show everyone up."

Number 6 smiled. Snape reached for her collar, "may I?" Number 6 smiled as directed. As he unbuttoned her shirt, Number 6 fought a dangerous inner struggle. I hope he doesn't want me to keep smiling, it makes me feel. "I confess Hermione I've never done anything like this. Having carnal relations with a student is strictly prohibited, if we got caught." Snape kissed her with fire. "I'd hate to consider the consequences." Bending down he planted kisses over the satin covered swells.

It was rather awkward for him, being so much taller. "How much time do we have?" Number 6 inquired.

Taking her face in his hands, "all night." She tugged him gently toward the bed.

"Come, I can see you're uncomfortable."

Situated on the bed, side by side. Severus spoke of regrets and lost opportunities. Pausing occasionally to kiss and stroke her with a passion that was painful. They whiled away the hours. Before she drifted off Number 6 felt something like a person, which was dangerous.