(Music: The Classic Crime)
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"Hermione, wake up." Ginny shook the sleeping girl, trying to get her to come down for breakfast. Hermione's eyes opened, sleep still clouding them.
"I'm up. I'm up." She said, and sat up, cringing lightly.
"Come on then! Breakfast is ready. Even the boys are awake." Hermione grimaced at this and stood, throwing off her covers. As she straightened, the pain in her back flared, and she felt nauseous from it. Running to the bathroom, she retched up the little she'd eaten the night before. Ginny ran to her side when she realized what happened and held Hermione's hair while she was sick.
When she was finished, Ginny held out a wet towel for Hermione to wipe off her face. Closing her eyes, Hermione felt the sickly feeling throughout her whole body, like poison. She laughed quietly, desperately. That would be like Vold—The Dark Lord; to poison her.
"Are you alright?" the redhead's voice sounded worried. Hermione grimaced; she didn't need the Weasleys worrying over her right now. She smiled up, into her friends face.
"I'm fine. I don't need breakfast," she flushed the toilet, "just go without me. And don't tell your mom—I don't want her to worry." At Ginny's concerned look she finished, "I'm just stressed—and I need time." The younger girl nodded, and left. Hermione was relieved, and relaxed in her position resting against the wall opposite the toilet. Where the skin stretched over her mark, it burned. Immediately, she straightened to take the pressure off, whimpering quietly.
She was tired; it'd been hard to fall asleep the previous night—pain had kept her company until she passed out from exhaustion. Thinking she would go back to bed, Hermione stood and walked to the door. Stopping with her hand on the handle, she locked the door instead of opening it. She realized she hadn't seen her mark yet.
Twisting to look back at the mirror over the sink, Hermione pulled up the back of the shirt she'd forced on while lying awake in pain. She hadn't thought Ginny finding her asleep in that dress would have been a good idea. She'd also remembered to remove the glamour.
The dark mark lay on the skin above her sacrum, in her lower back. It was smaller then those on the forearm of most Death Eaters, only about three inches by one and a half inch. Currently, it burnt back and was slightly raised along the edges. Reaching back, Hermione stroked the branding and hissed in pain. It felt like it was burning a hole in her back.
Which it is, she mused.
Leaving the bathroom, Hermione climbed back in bed—trying desperately to sink once again into oblivion.
The next day, her nausea was gone, and she made an appearance for breakfast. Hermione assured Mrs. Weasley that she'd been having 'lady problems' the day before, and needed time for herself. She had to admit, Ginny was good. Very good. Only the youngest Weasley could have thought of that excuse on her toes and lied convincingly.
At breakfast, Hermione shivered until Harry insisted that she go get a blanket. She didn't understand why she was so cold, it was summer and everyone else was fine. After swinging from hot to cold throughout her morning in the library, Hermione realized she had a fever. That was the only reason she woke up this morning with little pain and no nausea. This must be the final stage of her branding: pain, to nausea, to fever. Fever, she decided, is the best of the three.
Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the day in the library. The boys played chess and Hermione read until the clock chimed 11 o'clock and they thought they should get in bed. Hermione brushed her teeth and crawled under her covers with a book on cursed tattoos. Ginny was already sound asleep, and Hermione knew from personal experience nothing would wake her up, so she was free to read as late as she liked. When Hermione finished the section on branding used by husbands on wives to 'claim' them, her back seared with pain again. She arched and sucked in a breath, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Quickly, she slid out of bed and threw her cloak over the tee shirt and jeans she was wearing. She didn't have another dress and she'd be damned if she was going to wear the same one twice. Hopefully, the cloak would cover her 'muggle' clothes. She barley remembered construct her disguise again before she left the room.
She crept down Grimwald Place's stairs and out the front door. Touching her new mark, she apperated and knelt immediately. Dark chuckling came from above, and Hermione looked up from the grass that matched her cloak.
She was kneeling on a large, deserted lawn. How the lawn came to be there, she had no idea and the darkness was so complete she could only see in a circle of light, most likely produced by an enchantment from the Dark Lord. He himself was standing above her, swathed in a cloak as black as the night around them. No stars were visible in the sky. One pale hand gestured, and she stood. A chair popped into existence beside her, and Hermione sat only after the Dark Lord had done so in a chair of his own.
Leaning back, the red-eyed wizard observed her silently for a time, before beginning. "I've thought about your …ussess, Misss Granger. Yess, thought indeed." She worked hard not to shiver at the quiet hissing voice. "You ssay you can help me keep an eye on Sseveruss and spy on the Order for me, correct?" she nodded stiffly, "Perfect. I want you to asssisst Sseveruss on a project he'ss doing for me. Work with him clossely. Take note of the information he passsess to different people and tell me of anything interessting. Your dissguisse needs to be foolproof, so wear thiss," he tossed a ring at her, "and you will appear, even to yoursself, as Liliana. Lily." He smiled cruelly.
Hermione nodded, expecting this, and glanced down at the ring in her hand. It was a Claddagh ring with diamonds for the heart and along the outside, obviously expensive. "You will alsso be needing an appropriate wardrobe for this asssignement. Here," he tossed a sack, heavy with galleons, into her lap, "usse this and buy ssome dressesss in Knockturn alley that sshow your mark. I need to ssee it." She though he 'needed' to see something else, but didn't say this.
"Yes, my lord." She murmured, ducking her head.
He smiled at her and continued, "Come here tomorrow. From now on you will report here every day between the hourss of 8pm and 12am ass well ass when ever I need you. You will tell the Order" he spat the word now, "you are renting an apartment while you are living here. After you get those dresssess, find a hotel room and use the remaining money to rent it for a month. You will pretend to live there. Leave everything but your new clothes, perssonal items and wand there. Tomorrow, report to me at 7o'clock. We will go over other arrangementss."
"Yes, my lord." She said again, nodding firmly.
"And Misss Granger?" he said as she stood, "do not think of betraying me. You are no match for my legilimency." His voice was a threat she knew to take heed of, so she nodded and bowed low. Just as she was going to apperate to Knockturn Ally, he called once more. "Misss Granger. When the mark burns, press it and think of the dress you're going to be wearing that evening. You will know what to do with what you get." He smiled thinly at her, eyes sweeping her figure again.
00000000000000000000000000000000
When she arrived at Knockturn Alley, she moved quickly through the shadows to a dressmakers shop. It was amazing the hours that these stores were open.
Entering the shop, Hermione was given a dark look from the black-haired woman from behind the desk. "What do you want, Girly?" The women spat from behind the counter.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, and gave the thin woman a once-over. "I need some dresses that show my back, my lower back." Her voice was casual and controlled.
The woman rolled her eyes and moved to the back of the shop. She came back with a pink dress that had black designs on the bodice and a rather high back. Hermione didn't think that's what the Dark Lord had in mind.
"Hmm…no. I'll look for something." Hermione moved to the left side of the store and observed the nicest dresses on mannequins. When she found one with a daringly low back, solid, deep black fabric and red accents, she turned to the sales lady and pointed. "Help me get this down?" she asked, inclining her head challengingly.
The woman walked over and Hermione heard her mumble, "I don't know what she's thinking. Going to be raped in the street. Not that I care…"
"What did you say?" Hermione asked, shocked, startling the woman.
"I didn't say anything. Now go change in the back room." She shoved the dress at Hermione who caught it and walked into the dimly lit back room. She stripped quickly, and put the dress on, marveling at the feel of it on her skin. She quickly glanced in the mirror and circled, her new body was more buxom and curvy then her natural one; she had always been rail thin. Her dark mark contrasted drastically to her new pale skin and she was struck with how pretty the contrast of light and dark really was. It was defined; no gray areas. Just black and white.
Then, she exited the changing room and walked to the threefold mirror. Facing the woman, she asked, "What do you think?" and turned slowly, so the sales lady could see her back while she faced the mirror. Hermione watched the woman's face pale, her eyes widen and her sharp intake of breath as she saw Hermione's dark mark. "What?" she asked innocently.
The woman shook her head, and moved away, "I have some dresses over here you might like Misses…" she trailed off.
Hermione took pity on the woman and grasped her forearm lightly, "don't worry. You need not fear me." She still looked frightened, but less likely to pass out. Hermione released her and took the dress offered into the back room.
By the time she was done, Hermione had seven dresses and a pair of pants with a matching corset. She'd picked the original dress, a vibrant red sleek one, a shorter gray number with matching gloves, and three more modest, but still very daring, red and black dresses. The pants were black chiffon with a deep, dark red corset to match. Finally, she wasn't able to resist an ivory and black sundress. Although it looked too 'non-Death Eater' when it was on a hanger, as soon as she put it on, the dress seemed creepier and made her look gaunter. Her skin matched the ivory and contrasted against the black. This was the only dress that did not show her mark.
The sales lady smiled timidly at Hermione when she left, and Hermione felt a sense of accomplishment. She'd definitely be coming back. Realizing she needed to sneak back and couldn't be carrying all this baggage, Hermione walked to an inn in Diagon Ally and prayed someone was still awake. Unfortunately for her, no one was available and the inn was closed for the night. Sighing, she walked to the Leaky Cauldron and rented a room for the night. Dropping her bags there and leaving her cloak, she apperated to Grimwald place.
False dawn was showing over the treetops when Hermione returned, so she headed to the kitchen. On her way there, she stopped briefly by the library to grab a book. After finding a book she wanted, Hermione heard someone enter the house quietly. She snuck to the partially open door to peek.
Severus Snape walked through the front door, and towards the kitchen. His face was pale and drawn, his hands trembling lightly. Hermione drew away from the door as he passed, entering the kitchen. When she heard him open a cupboard, Hermione tiptoed backwards to slide down the wall. She lay there, head pressed into her knees, crying silently and helplessly as what she had done sunk in.
The Dark Mark burned into her skin would never come off. It would always been there—a reminder of her betrayal. She cried for herself, for Snape, for the Order; she cried until she didn't know whom she cried for. That's why, when Snape entered the library with a cup of tea, she didn't notice. Until he sat next to her and touched her fingers cautiously with his own, shaking ones. Reacting immediately, Hermione turned towards him and buried her head in his shoulder. Crying into his blood stained shirt.
That's how Remus Lupin found them the next morning. Hermione's face still buried in Severus' shirt and his head tipped back onto the wall behind them. His hand still on her back from where it had been stroking while she choked on her sobs before he fell asleep—afraid to wake her.
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Pictures of the dresses and ring are in my profile. However, the dresses do nothave low backs in the pictures, but they do in this story. Creative license. (Dress links in order of appearance from the description here.)
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