Hermione woke the next morning feeling calm and refreshed. Jumping out of her bed and making her way into the shower, she didn't notice the concerned looks of her dorm mates. Quickly finishing her morning routine and grabbing her books, she sat in the common room and waited for her best friends. What they had said still hurt, but she realised now how silly it was to hold a grudge against them, especially in such uncertain times.
Watching them as they descended the stairs from their dorm, she smiled and told them they would be late to breakfast if they didn't hurry. Relieved to have been forgiven, Harry and Ron heartily agreed, following the bushy haired girl out of the portrait.
It wasn't until the trio was seated for breakfast that Ron remembered about her detention.
"Hey Mione, how was detention? Not too bad I hope, that greasy git can be such a…"
"Ronald! He is still your professor! You should show some respect!"
"Your one to talk!" putting a hand up to stop her protests, Harry just rolled his eyes. "Well how was detention?"
Hermione frowned. "It was detention, how do you think? He made me clean the first year's cauldrons and gave me a lecture on not talking back. The usual really"
Satisfied, the Gryffindor boys went back to their breakfasts, leaving Hermione to ponder the question. It was really just a bog standard detention, right?
---
The week progressed slowly, teachers piling on the homework in preparation for their exams. Lessons became harder, homework became longer, and the students became more and more stressed out. Hermione however thrived on the attention. Always one to be organised, the step up of work had little affect on her. In fact her biggest problem was getting Harry and Ron to do their work.
Tuesday morning gave way to double potions, and the first lesson since Hermiones detention. Filing into the classroom, and taking notes from Snapes lecture all proved to be rather straightforward. It wasn't until he demanded that she retrieve a temperature rod from a cabinet, and rather rudely at that, that she began to feel the stirrings of something… not quite right. Doing as asked, Hermione felt a shallow sense of relief flood her as she handed it over. It wasn't as if she was against doing as he asked, it was more that she had never felt so… inclined to do so before. Writing the strange feeling off as stress, Hermione continued to listen to Snapes lecture, taking detailed, precise notes.
The days progressed into weeks, and with each potions lesson, Hermione felt that pull, that feeling flood through her every time she completed a task set by the potions professor. Even handing in homework or completing the designated potion gave her a sense of satisfaction, of relief. It was strange, she mused, but it was almost as if she wanted to do as Snape asked. Like she craved his… acceptance. Or something.
Later, after a particularly strange potions lesson, in which Hermione had felt her stomach flutter as she successfully answered a question shot at her but the potions master, Hermione lay in her bed, finding it almost impossible to sleep. Over the course of the last week, she had been gifted with less and less sleep, until she got to the point where she was dosing up on pepper ups to get her through the day. The sensation which kept her awake was… strange. It felt as though thousands of ants were shifting under her skin, urging her to do something! Her stomach was in knots, she had a constant migraine, and her body seemed to flush boiling hot and freezing cold at entirely random intervals.
Flipping over with a groan, Hermione almost sobbed as she felt another tug pull at her insides, more powerful than the last. She didn't… she couldn't deal with this anymore! Crawling out of bed, she didn't bother to grab a gown or robe, not even pausing to put something on her bare feet. The cold didn't seem to touch her as she stumbled along the halls of Hogwarts, her only coherent thoughts focused on getting there.
Almost collapsing against the door, Hermione feebly managed to knock on the heavy wood, praying it wasn't too late. Actually sobbing in relief when the door swung open, she didn't stop to wonder why it was she needed to be there, with him of all people, but rather was simply happy that the urgent need inside her was calming.
Allowing herself to be seated in a chair, she watched as Snape helped himself to a small glass of whisky. Shivering as coherent thought returned to her, she licked her parched lips as memories of her detention flooded her mind.
"What-" she coughed, he throat feeling as though she hadn't drank in days, "What did you, do?"
Assessing her shaking form, Severus Snape calmly sipped his drink, apparently unconcerned by her uninvited presence, and present condition. Propping himself against the edge of his desk, he watched as the young Gryffindors fever seemed to drain away, the colour slowly returning to her cheeks.
"Do you know why you are here?"
Confused, Hermione racked her memory, bringing forward her suspicions.
"Y-you drugged me, my tea"
Unconcerned, the professor nodded, seemingly pleased with something.
"Your loss of memory, urges and physical symptoms are all directly linked with the potion that I used to lace you tea. A variation of the imperious curse, it irreversibly binds its victims with a master of the brewer's choice. In this case, Mss Ganger, I myself am your chosen master"
Calmly stepping towards her, he watched her reaction.
"The potion acts as a stimulant, encouraging the victim to react and respond to the masters wishes. The urges you have felt in class, for example to do with myself asking you a question, are your body's way of telling you that you must obey. Also the relief and pleasure you feel upon doing as such, is a mental incentive to continue to do so. The other physical symptoms indicate your progress under the potions influence. Once the victim reaches a certain stage, they become completely dependant on their master. Also at this stage, the memory loss and confusion dissipate, leaving the victim with a full mental understanding of their situation, but with no way to avoid it".
Crouching down in front of Hermiones chair, Snape lifted the sobbing girls chin and smiled cruelly.
"In essence Miss Granger, the potion you consumed has bound you to me, as my slave. You cannot escape, there is no antidote, and no Granger suicide is not an option, as any actions you may wish to take must first be Okayed by me. Any attempt at otherwise… well lets just say you will not enjoy the experience. You will of course come to accept this, in time. Your body will crave my acceptance, my praise. Without this it is highly likely you would become insane"
Letting her chin drop back to her chest, Snape rose and seated himself in his chair.
"You, Hermione, are mine. My slave, my bitch, my anything"
Sniffing quietly, Hermione felt her last spark of hope die out. Even as her mind screamed otherwise, her body replied to his words.
His.
Complete. R&R!