"The House of Malfoy."
Hermione handed over the thick roll of parchment to a frowning Severus Snape. His long pale fingers closed around the contact and a shiver chased over her skin. Merlin, he even liked to keep the Headmaster's office as chilled as his former dungeon home.
"They…"
Without asking, she sank into the hard chair set before the great block of carved wood of the Hogwarts Headmaster's desk. She let her spine slump back, and for a moment closed her eyes.
How had it all gone so monumentally wrong in the short space of an otherwise dull Sunday? How? Because this was the wizarding world and it had been dicking about with her life since she was eleven.
Snape unrolled the first length of parchment and a frown deepened the line between his brows. He looked up, his endlessly black eyes sombre. "The House of Malfoy has bought your debt from Gringotts."
"That and…and more."
Her belly squeezed tight. It was there in the swirling copperplate script of wizarding officiousness.
The House of Malfoy had bought...her. Every inch of her. And now the Malfoys could use her as they pleased...
It was an ancient law —her scramble through mouldy codices had proven that— but the goblins were in a vindictive mood. And she knew why. She and Harry and Ron had, above the destruction and the theft and the release of the goblins' poor dragon, further ripped into Gringotts' reputation of being impregnable. They were affecting business.
"The goblins are obviously feeling particularly aggrieved."
The Headmaster sank back into his high-backed chair and let out a long breath. "So it would appear. Are your...partners in crime similarly afflicted?"
"No."
An owl to Harry had confirmed that. Ron…well, with Ron she assumed. Git.
It appeared...waiting rather than falling into bed with the first to offer had not been a wise move on her part. Perhaps there was an unspoken rule, one missed by muggleborns, that virginity was not a prize...as the goblins could use it against a wizard or witch in any way they saw fit.
She doubted Harry knew, but then Ginny had practically locked him in her room for the entire summer.
He was one well-used wizard.
And she...well, her try at a relationship with Ron had faltered at the first step.
They'd hardly seen each other as Hermione set things right with her parents. Then Ron, as a lauded hero, had been snapped up by the Chudley Cannons and she'd returned to Hogwarts to complete her NEWTs before the new year. The adulation —and interest— of a gaggle of pretty witches for one Ronald Bilius Weasley was splashed across The Prophet within the first days of September.
The sordid 'kiss and tell' stories had quickly followed.
Hermione hadn't wanted to believe them...but Harry had said they were true.
Ron then...then had the audacity to ask her to wait for him.
Utter shit.
He still sported the scars from her attacking birds.
And the goblins had obviously leapt with pointed teeth bared on her status as a 'virgin with no prospects'. The bastard-contract actually said that. Because who would want such a fierce and vindictive witch?
Hermione sighed.
She pulled her thoughts back. "I...understand that the elder Malfoys have gone their separate ways."
Her gut twisted at the thought of Lucius Malfoy being within three feet of her, never mind… She twitched, her shoulders jerking and shook her head. Narcissa had swept off to Milan with a horde of gold to bury herself in haute couture, leaving her former husband to resurrect the fortunes of his family name. How binding her did this, Hermione had no clue.
It all smacked of embittered revenge. Bastard.
"And Draco…"
Snape let out a long breath and carefully rerolled the thick parchment. The slide and soft groan of the skin itched over her own. "Yes, Draco is flushing away his money. I doubt he's been conscious or sober enough in the past few months to agree to this...travesty."
Hermione huffed a sour laugh. The scion of his House's drunken whoring was relegated to the inner pages of The Prophet. Her former, just-about boyfriend still rampaged across the front pages even deep into December. "Then this is all Lucius?"
She spat out the hated name.
Snape winced. "I have little doubt the goblins will have approached him first. Took their time to set this in motion. They know best who serves their requirements."
Lucius Malfoy and the goblins made perfect bedfellows. All foul and unctuous and loathsome creatures.
She closed her eyes and scrubbed her hands across her face. "What can I do, sir?" She waved her hand at the hated scroll. "What can be done? I've been sold off like a carpet or chair or box. One stupidly pristine Hermione Jean Granger."
Snape laced his long fingers together and his endless eyes held her. Dark and powerful. Her heart thudded. The stirrings of her old...interest in him pushed against her thoughts. It'd been swirling for months. And Merlin, now was not the time to have it at the front of her mind.
"Would you take my help, Miss Granger?"
"Gladly, sir."
A shiver chased over her skin and she wished she'd thought to wear her big cardie to fight off the castle's chill. But after her fruitless search for a solution, the scroll had driven her out of her room and to the Headmaster's office, only the silvered blur of a patronus there to give him warning that she desperately needed to see him.
He'd waved her into his office with a curt nod and she declined his offer of tea. No sneer. No sarcasm from him. And for that she had been so very grateful.
"I don't have anyone else I can turn to. My parents…" She caught her fingers in her hair. "My parents are back in Britain, their memories of their old life restored...but they are not happy about the magical world. What it drove me to do protect them. This?" Her fingers waved again. "I could hardly begin to explain this to them."
"Mr Potter? The Weasleys?"
"I'm 'without prospects'." Gods, she wouldn't remind him again of her inexperience. "To bind that into a contract means I can find no help there." She wrinkled her nose. "Harry is besotted and my...refusal to wait for a certain Weasley has not been...well received."
"Idiots." Snape shook his head. "You save the wizarding world…"
Hermione's laughter was wry. "Neither of us are convenient, are we, sir, unless we are confined to our expected roles? Our neat little boxes."
Perhaps...perhaps his accepted offer of help would be enough? She wanted to believe it. She did, the curl of it there around her heart. But binding contracts were wicked things.
Snape's gaze fixed on her again, sharp and bright. "Indeed, Miss Granger." He looked again to the bound scroll. His brows pulled together, forming that familiar dark line and he sat straight in his chair. "I believe there is an unexpected —and I admit, forgotten— loophole available to us here—"
A burst of fierce flame surged over the grate of the fireplace and Lucius Malfoy stepped onto the blackened hearth in a properly villainous swirl of smoke. A flick of his wand and the sticking soot vanished to leave him gleaming and immaculate...and with a hard face and grey eyes bright in their fury.
Hermione was on her feet, her wand in her hand and a hex burning on her lips.
"What are you about, Severus?"
The question was sharp and fierce. Malfoy's gaze flicked to her, to the contract on the mess of other parchment on the Headmaster's broad desk and then to the man himself.
Snape rose, slow and elegant and so obviously...lethal. "You may have bought your way back into being a governor of this school, Lucius but that does not give you the right to break in to my office."
Malfoy snorted. "And you do not have the right to...meddle in my affairs."
Hermione blinked and guilt pricked at her. Showing Snape the contract had drawn him into her mess. She'd come to him, as she simply did not know what to do. And she trusted him. Completely. But, she couldn't allow his deservedly quiet life to be upended. Not for her. "Headmaster—"
She bit off further words as his black eyes fixed on her.
Malfoy sneered as only he could. "Yes, Hermione, the adults in the room are talking."
Prick. "We were. Then you arrived."
The ripple of a growl broke from him, but a slash from Snape's wand stilled Malfoy's own raised hand.
"My time is tight, Lucius." A black eyebrow lifted and Snape fell to silence.
Malfoy's lips pinched together. "Yet you find time—"
"Miss Granger made an appointment." Snape flowed out from behind his desk in a glide of black and billowing wool and silk, his wand ready, every inch the powerful wizard. He stopped in front of Malfoy, dark and forbidding before the other wizard's false shine. "Well?"
Hermione's belly tightened and she pushed back the insane little crush that was working itself free. She was such a shallow witch to find Severus Snape's intense magical power so...arousing.
"Miss Granger is bound in the Old Ways to the House of Malfoy! You… you..."
Snape's fingers whitened around his wand.
Fear bloomed in Hermione's chest at that strange sign as Malfoy ranted on about favour and honour and blood-ties. What did it mean? What had Malfoy revealed to the Headmaster in those first few words?
Snape's smooth but cold voice broke into Malfoy's continuing rage. "An agreement has been sealed, Lucius. A goblin debt is bought when all parties seek it. Your...scheme, either for Draco or for yourself, is a disgrace on your House and Blood."
Lucius blinked, his face suddenly stilled, his mouth open. His expression shifted a hard heartbeat later into something quick and sly. "It is fully binding, Severus. Irrevocable. Flesh-tight. That bleeding Hufflepuff heart of yours has dragged you down ag—"
A slash of Snape's wand silenced the other wizard. "You have no further business here, Lucius. Leave."
With a sneer, Malfoy lashed floo-powder at the fireplace and vanished into the flare of stark green flames.
"Sir…?"
Snape put up his wand-free hand for her silence and...sagged back against the edge of his broad desk.
Hermione bit her lip, desperate questions burning on her tongue, but she fought them back.
Snape's eyes were closed, the thick curve of his lashes a black fan against his high cheekbones. A smile twitched, brought on my nerves. Oh she did have eyelash envy.
"I…"
A heavy breath lifted his chest. His mouth pinched together, but eased. His chin rose. Whatever he had to say was difficult, that much was obvious. But Severus Snape was not a coward. He would tell her.
"As I speculated before we were interrupted, we do now have a loophole.
"Few are aware that in order for me to take the Dark Mark, I had to have my muggle half...purified." He bit out the word, wrapped it in loathing and Hermione's heart squeezed. "As Lucius said, the Old Ways. It was the fate of all half-bloods within his regime.
"I...I was...grafted onto the House of Malfoy. Made a country cousin, a poor relation, blood but not in name or true right. But enough. Just enough."
Her thoughts spun and twisted. He was… He was… "You're a Malfoy. You're of the House. And when —Gods, Merlin— and when you said you would would help me and I...I agreed—"
"Yes, you felt the magic? That was the seal of the bind."
Hermione's knees gave out and she staggered to the nearby chair, slumping down upon it. Her fingers tightened into a bloodless knot over her knees. "What...what am I to you now, sir?"
He winced and it stabbed at her chest. "Severus," he murmured. "You may call me Severus as we are now wizard-bound." He looked up at her, his dark eyes strangely pained. "Married."
She mouthed the first letter, her voice dried in her mouth. She swallowed. Hard. "Married?"
"As that bastard said, this binding is irrevocable and flesh-tight."
"I don't…"
"There can be no one else for you. Ever."
Snape...Severus swept away from her, his academic gown flaring by her in a cool rush. The rich scent of sandalwood and hickory chased over her senses.
His words broke through her dazed thoughts.
Married…? But that...that didn't make sense. They could have no other? No, no. She. The Malfoys would never deny themselves pleasure. And neither Malfoy would want her blood in their precious family tree. She was more likely to be a...a fucktoy. Taken out for their amusement, used and discarded. Her stomach roiled at the hated images.
She pulled in a breath. Severus Snape was sacrificing himself...again. Guilt tugged hard at her. She'd pushed this on him. Another binding. Another fucking vow.
"I won't hold you to this, S...sir." She straightened in her chair and stared at his stiff-straight back as he stood at the narrow window. Winter light gilded his stark profile. "I realise that the Malfoy plan was never marriage. You don't have to…" A smile twitched as he turned on his heel to stare at her. "You have done enough. I'm free of the Malfoys-bar one"—she worked a grin—"and he is the best of his House."
Severus snorted. "Abraxas was feeling vindictive when I was...Blooded. Lucius had...well, he'd been indiscreet. It's not wise to cross the Blacks. And not the daughters of Orion Black.
"Lucius declared me Blood-Sundered —cut from the House— at first fall of Tom Riddle. There were still threads of a connection, though. A trace." A quirk of a smile tugged at his mouth and Hermione found herself echoing it. "His father liked me, you see."
Snape huffed a breath. "In fact, there is a clause, tucked away in the Family Oaths. If Lucius brings disgrace, I—" A sudden bark of sharp and disbelieving laughter broke from him. "Oh, Lucius you truly are a fool. Handed to me on a platter."
His sudden sharp and wicked grin gave her belly a fierce little swoop. Yes, her crush was fully ignited. It was a shame she had to turn away from this wizard, but it was hardly fair to take advantage of him through a piece of Malfoy wickedness. However much she wanted to…
Severus gave her an elegant nod. "Miss Granger, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. I am Severus Snape, Lord of the House of Malfoy." Another burst of laughter broke from him and Hermione could only stare at the wizard as he took up the hated scroll and ripped it through. Magic sparked and showered the air with light and the rich rush of earth and sea. The parchment fell to ash. The contract was...broken.
Severus collapsed into his chair. His smirk was satisfied and...and hot and in that moment, Hermione desperately wanted to know this man. One who could laugh and be so...wickedly desirable. "And as easily as that, you are free, Miss Granger."
"I…"
A hollow pain filled her. Was he delighted to be free of her too?
"I don't want to be."
Heat stung her cheeks. Shit, she'd said that out loud, hadn't she? She scrabbled to think of anything, anything to say and the only thing that burst from her were questions about his sudden elevation. "But sir, Lucius Malfoy has been a thorough disgrace a number of times, how could this time…?"
Severus...sobered and she wanted to pull back her question. His dark gaze flicked to the side, to the frame filled with a slumbering Dumbledore. "My...first vow negated all other ties, even those held by blood and bone. My second sealed to the first, to the act, not the Malfoy's themselves. The traces of Blood had dimmed. I had forgotten." He held her gaze. Quiet. All humour fled. "I...never even considered it when I first offered my help."
Hermione ached for the shine back. Merlin, to hear him laugh was a wonder. "And there's no retrospective law on disgrace?"
His lips twitched and Hermione's heart gave a sharp little squeeze. "It seems not. I will remain Lord —barring my own fall into dishonour— until I deem Draco worthy to hold the title." He huffed a sour breath. "Though I doubt I will last the week. Lucius will not be idle."
Malfoy would try to destroy Severus' reputation. Anger burned in Hermione's gut. First her and now the Headmaster. No. Not this day.
"Rita Skeeter is an illegal animagus. A beetle. I held the information over her in my Fourth Year, ensuring she printed the truth. I still have that power."
Severus' dark eyes narrowed on her, a spark there heating her veins. "Well, well, Miss Granger." His voice was smooth and rich and slid under her flesh to make her heart pound. Wickedly desirable? Oh yes. "You are certainly a surprisingly...vindictive little witch."
"I don't care for people who hurt what's mine."
His gaze burned into her. "And do you consider me yours, Miss Granger?"
Her mouth was dry. Her thoughts churned. The need to declare that yes, yes he was. That earlier he'd said she would have only him. That he'd declared them married in his eyes. "Do…" She wet parched lips and wanted to take courage from the flick of his gaze to her tongue. "Do you want to be?"
"When you are free of this place," he looked to the shadowed vaults of the ceiling, to the gold frames and ancient portraits peering out of the gloom, "then yes, I believe it would be most...welcome."
Hermione blinked. And again. She bit her lip and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. And squeaked. The urge to fling herself at him fired through her blood, but she didn't want nosy bloody portraits sharing their private time. It was bad enough, they'd witnessed what they had.
She drew in a calming breath, though she was fighting back a clabbart-like grin. "Then I believe, I should gag Skeeter whilst you make the House of Malfoy shine with good deeds. Ones which, Lucius, if he should ever regain his title, cannot disavow."
Severus' smile was deliciously sharp and the urge to launch herself at him and pepper his face with kisses surged over her. "And I thought this would be a dull and dreary Sunday morning."
"As did I...Severus."
The Headmaster sat forward. "I believe we have a number of plans to make."
"Sneaky, Slytherin plans?"
"Most assuredly." He smirked. "So, how would you like to turn the wizarding world on its head, Miss Granger?"
The Daily Prophet - Evening Edition
The Ascendance of the House of Malfoy by Rita Skeeter
There are curious legacies from the reign of Tom Riddle over his followers. One which has come to light is the Blooding of certain witches and wizards. An ancient tradition, once used to bring in fresh magic to a dying line.
One such Blooded wizard, is Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, renowned Potions Master, Spy for the Light and holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class.
Through a clause, set by Abraxas Malfoy himself, Professor Snape is now Lord of the House of Malfoy.
How did this happen, you ask?
Because Lucius Malfoy is an utter scoundrel.
Not earth shattering news, I'm sure you'll all agree, but Professor Snape has been able to do what the Wizengamot and the Aurors' Office has been reluctant or unable to do. He has expelled the unscrupulous wizard from his position of power.
Professor Snape will, as Lord of his House, take the Malfoy seat on the Wizengamot and he has already begun to scrub clean the tarnished name of Malfoy. Orphans, squibs, those laid low by the war and magical creatures and beings will be the first to benefit from the new Malfoy Foundation. A charitable institution, determined to spread the immense Malfoy wealth out into the poor and darkened corners of our world.
Professor Snape was a striking figure as he stood in the atrium of the Ministry, with the Minister himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall and Hermione Granger at this morning's press conference.
"With the burning to ash of Tom Riddle," he declared, his velvet smooth voice carrying over the rapt crowd, "it is time to rebuild and to construct a fair world. Strange chance has given me wealth and power. And I intend to use it…wisely."
A skirmish on the edge of the watching crowd found a foul-mouthed and foaming Lucius Malfoy trying to hex Professor Snape. He is now in custody and awaiting trial in a further fall from grace.
Added to the late edition:
As the press conference broke up, Mr Ronald Weasley surged up, drunk and as ever wearing his Chudley Cannon's keeper's uniform.
He also tried to attack Professor Snape.
The victim of several powerful—and creative—curses, it appears Mr Weasley will be under the care of of the Healers of St Mungo's for quite some time.
"Good enough?" Rita Skeeter tossed her blonde curls and her lips pursed as she sat before the Headmaster's desk.
Severus dropped her copy for that night's Prophet to his desk and sank back into the heavy padding of his chair. He steepled his fingers across his mouth. "Is it so difficult to write the truth, Miss Skeeter?"
"What did you use on Malfoy?"
An eyebrow lifted.
Skeeter said forward, her fingers twitching. "He was ranting. Foaming. That wasn't natural, Snape. A renowned Potions Master would know that."
"Perhaps the loss of his position was the final straw? The final pebble dropping to crack the so-thin veneer of his sanity." Severus gave a delicate shrug. "I saw him in the last days before the fall of Tom Riddle, Miss Skeeter. Truly, he was a broken man."
"Of course." Skeeter gritted out the word and rose from her chair. Severus flowed upwards and stepped around his desk. The journalist fought the need to step back, it was there in the sudden sway of her body. "Thank you for your time, Headmaster."
"I always have time for the press, Miss Skeeter."
His voice was a deadly velvet. He waved to the fireplace and a surge of flame awaited her. In another heartbeat, Rita Skeeter was gone and Hermione was free to step out of her hiding place set back in a book-thick alcove.
An insane few weeks, as they schemed and plotted and cut out a clear path for their Foundation. Her future —career and…and love-life— bound unexpectedly, but delightfully to the bright and new House of Malfoy.
Magic was indeed a strange beast.
Hermione drew close to Severus, the heat of his body tantalisingly...there. She stared up at him, her dark and dangerous wizard, his hawkish face in shadow. His lips. Their softness. Their perfect curve that she ached to kiss. She drew in a breath and the familiar hints of sandalwood and hickory filled her. Her pulse drummed and the throb low, low in her belly tightened into its now familiar beat.
Days. Just days before she sat her NEWTs and she'd finally be free to step even closer.
And damn him, the wizard was well aware of her need. The devilish shine to his night-black gaze drying her mouth.
"Renowned Potions Master? Velvet smooth voice carrying over a rapt crowd? Really, Miss Granger." He arched that infamous eyebrow and leant in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His delicious voice was simply a hot whisper. "I do believe your bias is showing."
Her eyelids fluttered shut.
"Three days, Miss Granger. Then you will be mine. Agreed?"
Only a desperate mewl escaped her.
"I'll take that as a yes, shall I?"
A soft groan.
"Excellent."
The End