Clarissa heard a knock at her door, but decided to ignore it. She was at a tricky point in her research, and she couldn't get the math to work, no matter how many times she re-worked the equation. The knocks became more insistent, but still she resisted answering. If it was important, they'd come back later, or call. Not that she was answering her phone, either.

She heard faint sounds outside the door, and thought, "Good, they're leaving, now I can get back to work." To her astonishment, however, the door burst open the next second, and a tall, pale man entered. He looked somewhat like a vampire, and her first thought was a rather hysterical, "I thought they had to be invited in!"

She backed up against her desk. "Yes?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She clenched her hands together to keep them from trembling.

"I was outside for several minutes," the man snarled. He stepped closer and she got a better look at him. His hair was long, dark, and had the familiar greasy look of a serious chemist. He looked too young to be a grad student, and none of the undergrads had access to her home address.

"I know," Clarissa answered. Now that she saw his age and had guessed his profession, she was far more confident. "I wasn't answering for a reason. I'm quite busy. Now, you look desperate, something I understand well--"

The man drew himself up haughtily. "I am not desperate," he spat, "simply unaccustomed to waiting for inconsiderate muggles…"

"What did you call me?" Clarissa asked, laughing a little. That was a slang she hadn't heard yet. "Never mind. Look, this is a tremendous breech of privacy, but you should have seen me while I was writing my thesis…" her voice trailed off as she gathered her thoughts. The man looked most impatient. "Anyway, give me your name and contact information, and I'll see what I can do to help you out."

"Unnecessary," the man said. "You will be coming with me."

"I will not!" Clarissa exclaimed. The nerve. "I told you, I'm right in the middle of something. I'm willing to try and assist you later, but I need you to leave. Now." Instead of leaving, the man began walking towards her, and she backed up as much as she could, until she was practically sitting on her desk. "I will call the police if you don't leave immediately."

He grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her to him. She collided with his chest with a thud. "Ow," she exclaimed. "Let go right now, or I'll scream. My neighbors and I are very close."

"I'm sure," he sneered. "Now you will want to stay very still."

"The hell I will!" she positioned herself to give him a swift kick. All those defense lessons had better pay off. But the man grabbed her tightly around the waist and brought his mouth near her ear.

"You should," he whispered. It was almost sensual, the way his breath caressed her ear, and she shivered involuntarily. "If you aren't perfectly still, we may end up with bits of you scattered about the continent."

Clarissa wondered at that, and he reached into his pocket. A moment later, she couldn't think of anything else as a sharp tug originated in her navel and pulled her sharply. Then she could see nothing at all. Invisible wind whipped at her face. There was a sensation of rapid movement, without any means of propulsion, and she had a feeling that they were traveling quite a distance. Her scientist's mind dispassionately recorded all of the sensations, while her rational self was freaking out.

They landed with a thud. The man released her, and she went sprawling. The floor underneath was cold rock, certainly not her third floor studio. She raised herself up on her arm and looked around.

And incredibly handsome man stared down at her. Despite his appearance, she was getting really bad vibes from him. Not someone she wanted to be with, and her skin crawled. "Well done, Severus," he said.

"Thank you, Master," the man--Severus--said.

"What…" she croaked, and then stopped and swallowed. "What is going on?" she asked, her voice stronger. "Where am I?"

"Why, you have a privilege no muggle ever has," the man said. He spread his hands expansively. "You are in the home of Lord Voldemort, and you will live to see tomorrow." He paused. "If you serve me well."

Clarissa had to work to keep from laughing. "Lord Voldemort" was him, obviously, and what a preposterous name. He spoke with a clipped, aristocratic accent that still managed to sound fake to her. Severus's sounded far more smooth. This was a cult, she was sure, and this Lord Voldemort was the leader. Severus must have slipped her a hallucinogen, LSD perhaps, in her room.

"The police will find me," she assured them. "I'm a very important person," well, that was overstating it, but she continued, "and I'm close to my family. They won't give up until I'm found and you're brought to justice. Release me now, and I'll forget this happened." She tilted her chin and glared in a way that made freshmen wet their pants and seniors weep.

Lord Voldemort merely chuckled. "I'm so very frightened!" he exclaimed mockingly. "Do you hear that, Severus? American muggles are looking for us. Dreadful, we should return the girl at once."

Severus gave a laugh Clarissa knew was forced. "Yes, Master."

Lord Voldemort went back to looking stern. His eyes…well, if Clarissa wasn't a scientific woman, she would have said they glowed. Her breath caught. He was not sane. "Severus is going to show you around," he said. "I advise you to do everything he says, and nothing that he doesn't. I have no qualms about killing you. There are a dozen people who could take your place. From this moment on, the only thing keeping you alive is your usefulness. Take pains to remain useful." Then he turned, his robes swishing dramatically, and left. His ornate boots clanked with each step.

"Get up," Severus said. He didn't offer her a hand.

Slowly, Clarissa stood. She had a dozen questions, but the look in Severus's eyes kept her mouth shut.

"Let's go," he said. Clarissa followed him out of the room.

oOoOo

"And this," Severus said, "will be your quarters during your time here." He opened the door, and indicated that Clarissa should enter. He followed her inside.

For the first time during her tour of the expansive base, she spoke. "Severus," she started. That was as far as she got.

"You will address me," Severus hissed, "as Mr. Snape, or Sir. I did not give your permission to call me by my given name.

Clarissa was taken aback. She was used the informality of the lab, where only assholes were called by their last name or title. But Severus--no, Snape--looked furious. "Yes, Mr. Snape," she said coolly.

"You need to remember," Snape said, "that here, all of your accolades and accomplishments matter not at all. You are a muggle, next to worthless. Most are skeptical, if not hostile and suspicious, of your being brought here. You will address those you meet and work for with the utmost respect, and realize that you are below all of us here. And let me assure you, if you address the Dark Lord as anything less than Master or Lord, it will be the last thing you do."

There was a long silence as Clarissa digested this. It was suddenly cold, and she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "I understand," she whispered.

Snape nodded. "Books have been brought for you. You will need to read up before starting tomorrow. You are so far behind to be worse than useless, but the Dark Lord insists on using your skills."

"But I still don't understand what I'm doing here!" Clarissa exclaimed.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'm not at liberty to explain."

"Look, Mr. Snape, I just need some idea. You pull me here, and I still don't know where we are or how I got here, then expect me to help you do something to stay alive and I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS!"

"Not. At. Liberty." Snape said through gritted teeth. "I expect you to have a better understanding of your place here in the morning." He turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Even though Clarissa knew it would be useless, she tried to turn the handle, but it was locked tight.

"Damn," she sighed, and leaned against the door. She surveyed her new room. There were no windows, and the walls were a pale gray. A small, black table was against the wall, with a tall-backed chair next to it. Against the opposite wall was a bed and a few blankets. Several of her clothes were folded next to it. She gave a brief thought to how they were able to transport her clothes, but that was certainly the least of the weirdness she'd experienced. A bare toilet was in the far corner, with no partitions for privacy. A sink was next to it.

She sighed. It was certainly bleak, a far step from her cozy studio in downtown San Francisco. She missed her kitty, Freedom, and hoped that when her students realized she was missing, someone would stop by and feed him. She could have used his silent comfort in this place.

Near the table was a bookshelf, almost overflowing with texts. She walked over to them. Some of them seemed new, with white pages and new covers, and some seemed as though they would fall apart in her hands, pages yellowed and covers bent and stained. There was musty, dusty smell, as though they hadn't been used in some time. She picked one of the volumes up.

"'Potions in Action: Useful Potions for the Everyday War.' Well, that's just silly," she said. But she didn't want to die, and Snape looked serious about her reading the books, so she flipped it open and sat at the table. The chair was as hard and uncomfortable as it looked.

By the third page she was giggling. "Magic potions?" she thought. "Really, in this day and age. Well, I suppose a cult would believe crazy things, nature of the beast, and that Voldemort fellow is certainly not right." She set the book down and grabbed another: "Magical Maladies: Common Ills and How to Brew Them."

"I'm sensing a pattern," she said aloud. She started reading, and sure enough, it was more about these magical potions. Nasty ones, it seemed. She slammed the book shut with a shudder when she came to testical hives.

The yawn caught her by surprise, and she realized that she was quite sleepy, not surprising considering the day she'd had. Well, it wasn't like reading those books was going to help; she still had no clue what was going on. She crawled into her bed and was quickly asleep, not even bothering to change her clothes.