Author's Notes: To those of you who are still reading despite my horrible lack of updating sooner rather than later, I thank you. Special thanks to those of you who were so kind in their reviews for Chapter 9.
And, as always, thank you to my incredible Beta, Slytherin-Me.
H~S~H~S
As she rushed toward the dark entryway of Knockturn Alley where Demyan was waiting for her, Hermione tried to bring her mixed emotions under control. Her night with Severus had brought a whole new dynamic to her situation. She was fiercely glad to have someone she could lean on so much without appearing weak, but simultaneously, she had to be extra careful with Demyan. If the vampire touched her in any way and Severus found out, the former Potions master turned Defense instructor would be livid, and perhaps try to involve himself even more with the mission. The pressure on her was enormous, and she tried not to feel as if she was suffocating because of it.
Demyan, ever the gentleman so far in their acquaintance – if one didn't count the sexual maneuvers he'd exhibited on the dance floor – was waiting for her in the shadows of Knockturn Alley. It was dangerous, being alone with him in such seclusion, but better there than his home, which he'd suggested first. She'd played the coy maiden and told him they could have dinner at the Lusty Wretch, only familiar with the seedy establishment because the Auror department had tracked numerous dark wizards to the place. And, in a bid to get them to stop scaring off his customers, the owner, a wizard who considered himself a retired pirate, had unsuccessfully tried to seduce her. Once again, she was thankful for her new disguise, even if it was merely an enhancement of her appearance as well as her confidence.
"Persephone," Demyan greeted in his usual low, seductive murmur. He was using his considerable lure as a vampire to his advantage, but since becoming one with Severus she found herself less affected somehow.
Confidence spurred on by this new feeling, she gave him a saucy smile and sashayed over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in to brush her lips across his jaw. "Demyan," she purred, leaning back to look into his eyes. She'd once found them mesmerizing, when she'd first met him. Now all she could think about was Severus' dark orbs, the way they warmed when she defied him. "I know we just saw each other last night, but I've found myself missing you in the short time we've been apart."
He smirked, fully aware of his allure. "Then I am exceedingly thankful we can spend this time together," he responded, and leaned forward to nip at her lower lip before sliding his arm around her waist and leading her towards the pub. There was something hard about him, something beneath the surface that was bothering him greatly – she could feel it in the steel of his arm, the press of his fingers into her side.
"Is something wrong?" she questioned softly, her heart skipping a beat at the idea that perhaps he'd found her out.
He frowned but continued walking, and Hermione noticed the Lusty Wretch up ahead. He urged her through the double doors of the reasonably-sized pub. The room was dim, almost smoky, and many eyes turned to them as they strode past to a table in the back corner.
"You'd think they had never seen a pretty witch before," Demyan snarled, sending warning glares to the wizards around them.
Hermione was surprised by his possessive attitude, but remembered with a shiver that he was a predator first and foremost, and predators didn't tolerate the sharing of prey. Ignoring the inquisitive stares all around them, she leaned forward and placed her hands over Demyan's clenched fists. "What is bothering you, darling?" The endearment came easily, but after it'd slipped out it tasted bitter on her tongue. This man was not her darling.
But that inspired a smidge of anger in her to swell up. So many times she'd been undercover and it had never bothered her to play a wizard to get the information she needed. It bothered her now, and all because of Severus Snape's unexpected entrance into her life, into her heart. She wanted to smack herself, and hex him. And then kiss him. At the silliness of the contradiction, she shook her head as if to clear it.
Demyan wasn't paying attention to her; his head was turned to glare at the owner of the pub who was eyeing Hermione and licking his lips. When the colorfully-dressed owner noticed Demyan, his smile faded and he gulped. He motioned one of the scantily-clad women servers to their table.
"What would you like?" Demyan asked of Hermione, finally noticing her hands on his and clutching them as he set his stark blue eyes on her.
Hermione cleared her throat and smiled pleasantly up at the buxom witch waiting for their preference, shocked to find the woman eyeing her with lust. Eyes widening, she managed to say, "Gillywater."
The wench's eyes barely slid from Hermione as she asked of Demyan, "And you?"
"Nettle wine," Demyan spoke, and waved his hand dismissively at the witch. She huffed and stomped off, her eyes continuing to slip back to Hermione.
Something about the way the woman stomped off reminded her of someone, but Hermione couldn't place who. It was only when she returned that Hermione noticed rapidly-appearing freckles and red hair surging at the woman's roots. Her eyes widened and she coughed delicately. The witched placed their drinks on the table with a suspicious frown, and Hermione coughed again as she recognized the familiar expression. Ronald bloody Weasley. Harry had sent Ronald to back her up tonight, and she couldn't be more furious over the decision. The git didn't even realize his Polyjuice was wearing off.
"Persephone?" Demyan was leaning forward in feigned concern, and she quickly grabbed his forearms to get him to stay put, and focus entirely on her.
"Ouch," she voiced as she patted her chest. She turned an eye on the "witch" standing behind Demyan and said nonchalantly, "I couldn't believe it when I saw Polyjuice Potion on the menu!"
Ronald was slowing changing back, and for just a few moments, as he realized, the blood draining from his face, he had his own head and a woman's body. The image would be permanently burned in Hermione's mind, and she couldn't wait to share it with Harry and Ginny. Perhaps Harry would think better the next time he decided to send Ron in as her back-up when she was with another male.
Unfortunately her outrageous hint to Ronald had Demyan looking at her as if she'd fallen off the trolley, and she realized she needed to turn back on her charm right away.
She licked her lower lip slowly and reached for her mug of gillywater, sipping from it without taking her eyes off the vampire. She watched as his smirk returned and he began stroking her arm. After setting down her mug – and noticing he hadn't touched his – she insisted, "Now tell me what has upset you."
His face twisted into a furious mask, and she could've sworn she caught a glimpse of his fangs as he scowled. "A filthy Muggle officer tried to detain me on my journey here," he snarled, his hands clenching on hers.
Hermione ignored the fast beat of her heart and pretended outrage. "How dare he! Those Muggles always attempt to interfere in Wizard affairs." She shook her head and inquired silkily, "What did you do to him?"
"It was a 'she,' and suffice it to say I took care of her properly." She was nicely locked away in his cellar, but Persephone would never know that. "It purely angers me Muggles still exist." He scrutinized her irate expression as if he was trying to gauge her honesty in the reaction, and then continued in a low voice, "Better if the Dark Lord had destroyed them all."
Hermione was thankful she managed to master her reaction. She felt like screaming in triumph. "Oh, how I miss the Dark Lord so desperately!" The words actually made her sick to her stomach, but Demyan seemed extraordinarily pleased with her.
The vampire's eyes turned fanatical, sending a dark wave of fear through her which she did her best to stem. "If only I could finish his work. How great it would be to rid the world of those insignificant beings forever." He was straining with excitement over the idea, leaning over the table toward her with a faraway look. She wasn't even sure he realized what he was revealing to her, but if he was aware that he was, it meant he trusted her on some level. And why wouldn't he? She'd fabricated what a staunch Pureblood she was, had shown disgust at the appearance of the great Harry Potter at Triple Hex.
"You'd be my hero if you picked up where Lord Voldemort left off," she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes at him and clutching at his forearms as if completely caught up in his plot.
"Come here," he ordered, his eyes darkening to sapphire blue as his body tensed. He scooted his chair back further into the shadows of their dark corner, and grabbed her hips as she neared his chair curiously, bringing her down to perch on his lap. He swept a hand through her long hair, his thumb feathering across her jugular. Wrapping his hand around her nape, he tugged her face down and breathed against her lips, "You make my blood boil." He nipped at her lower lip, and then attacked her mouth roughly; kissing her so deep she almost lost her balance on his lap. He held her close, and situated her so that she was straddling him, so that her black robes fell open to expose her form-fitting black dress. His lips edged down her jaw, down her throat, down her neck, and she felt something sharp ghost across her skin just as the steel proof of his arousal jutted against her thigh.
"Demyan," she whispered, caressing his face, twisting his hair around her fingers. "I'd like to tell you something."
He paused, his hands grasping her thighs, his breathing harsh. "What is it?" he asked impatiently, his eyes intent on the rapid pulse in her throat.
"I… am a virgin. I'd… like to give you all of me, but on a very special occasion." She bit her lower lip and tilted her head to the side in mock-thought, her fingers teasing at the buttons on his silk shirt. "Perhaps the night you bring the Dark Lord's plans full-circle?" She knew she'd succeeded in enticing him when his fingers dug into her soft flesh in anticipation, and a low rumble of male satisfied laughter emitted from him.
"I like that. What a charming witch you are. And what a prize you will be for all my hard work." He leaned forward to nibble on her chin, the sharpness of his fangs gone. He inhaled deeply at her neck, and then removed her from his lap with a dramatic, regretful sigh. "I won't be able to wait long to… taste you." He watched her with hooded eyes. "I should begin now; the sooner this is complete the sooner I can have you." He grinned wolfishly, and stood to adjust his robes. "Shall I escort you back to your home, perhaps?" His tone suggested innocence, but she could tell he intended to do more than just leave her at her doorstep.
"Oh, thank you, Demyan, but I have some errands to run." She stepped closer to him, smiling excitedly. "Is there anything I can do to help you with your plan? Anything you need… money? I'll be visiting Gringotts."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the doors. "You're the motivation," he explained in his seductive low tone against her ear, and she shivered for his benefit.
Once outside, he stepped away from her and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a smattering of kisses along her knuckles. "I shall owl you when I've made progress," he promised. With that, he turned and walked to the edge of the alley, looking both ways before Apparating.
Hermione slumped against the wall and breathed deep, unbelieving how much progress she'd made in their visit. She couldn't wait to tell Harry and Severus, needed to get to a Floo network as soon as possible. She hurried out of Knockturn Alley and into Diagon Alley, and was nearly to Flourish and Blotts when she felt a hand on her elbow jerking her around. She came face to face with Ron, who was out of breath and doubled over from his efforts of catching up with her.
"Have you gone mad?" she whispered furiously, and jerked away from him to turn around and continue on her way, sending anxious looks around her as she rushed toward Flourish and Blotts. She was well-acquainted with the owners of one of the world's greatest Wizarding book shops, knew they would let her use their Floo.
Ron hurried alongside her. "You found out something, didn't you? You didn't stay long!"
"I need to get in touch with Harry. We need to move in on Makarovin quickly." She burst into Flourish and Blotts, Ron in step behind her.
From the shadows beside Gringotts, a pair of ice-blue eyes tinged with red flared with ferocity.
H~S~H~S
Severus attempted to make his quarters as presentable as possible before Hermione's arrival. Luckily, he'd finished his classes for the day and had been taking a late lunch at his work bench when she'd Floo'd him, begging him to let her come to Hogwarts and speak with him. She'd sounded so urgent; he was dying to know what in Merlin's name was going on. That had been half an hour ago. She'd promised that as soon as she spoke with Harry, she'd come to Severus.
Another half-hour later, an insistent knock sounded at his door. He opened it expecting Hermione, but was still unprepared for her greeting – she threw herself toward him, sagging against his hard body as her arms wrapped around his neck. He embraced her to him, breathing her in, slightly disturbed by the happiness that settled over him with her in his arms.
"Oh Severus," she breathed against his chest, snuggling into him. "It will all be over soon!"
Severus pulled back, his hands settling on her waist and he gazed down at her. "What do you mean?"
"You know I went out with Demyan this afternoon." His hold on her tightened, and she reached up to smooth the frown lines from his face. "He was displeased about a Muggle police officer offending him in some way, and he couldn't help but rant to me about how he wished Voldemort's great plan had succeeded!" She cupped his face in her hands and smiled brightly. "Just a bit more evidence and we'll have him in Azkaban, and this mission will be over!" She hugged him again, her arms locking around his shoulders.
Anxiety mixed with relief to create a paradox of emotions with Severus. He held tightly onto her waist, leaned back to look down at her. "You cannot become too assured yet, Hermione. He is dangerous." He stepped back, turned away from her, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Something didn't feel right. Makarovin was known for his weaknesses with the pretty witches, but to drop his guard completely with "Persephone" would be quite a leap.
"Severus?" Hermione frowned and stepped up to his back, her hand sliding down his arm to lock her fingers into his.
"Tell me exactly what he said to you," Severus demanded, urging her around in front of him, holding her by the shoulders.
Hermione obediently repeated Makarovin's thoughts on ridding the world of Muggles, finishing Voldemort's work, and claiming her as a prize at the end of said work. Severus' eyes were darkening perilously with each word she spoke of her story, his hands tightening to a slight pain on her shoulders.
He couldn't believe that perhaps the madness would soon be over with, that he would have Hermione all to himself and have the opportunity to truly explore their relationship. He leaned down and captured her mouth hungrily, wrapping her into his embrace. She clung to him, as ecstatic as he was at the idea of ending the mission, triumph filling her every pore.
He guided her back toward his plush sofa, one of his hands curling around her nape so that their lips remained locked as he laid her back over the cushions. Just as he was lowering himself over her welcoming form, the Floo ignited and an envelope whooshed through the green flames.
"Sorry to interrupt, Severus," came Minerva's prim but amused voice, "but the owl had a small note attached saying it was urgent." With that, the flames disappeared.
An agitated growl escaped Severus as he rose to scoop up the parchment from the floor. He watched Hermione sit up on the sofa to smooth out her robes, his eyes narrowed. "Don't move," he commanded in a low voice, intending to finish what he'd started.
But the note turned his blood to ice in his veins, caused his heart to skip a beat and then begin a rapid rhythm. Hermione, taking in the look on his face, ignored his order to stay still, and lifted hesitantly to approach him.
"Severus?" Her voice shook.
"It's a note from Makarovin," Severus told her without preamble, not wanting to draw it out. He met her eyes over the parchment. "He wishes to meet with me in Knockturn Alley."