Chapter 10: The Ties that Bind
Severus kneeled at the foot of the Dark Lord, not trusting himself to look up. He could feel the anger radiating from the man who sat near the fireplace at Malfoy Manor.
"Leave usssss, Luciusssss," Voldemort hissed, and Severus fought the urge to shiver.
Was this the day that he was to be found out? Would his spying be exposed as laughably executed? Severus remembered the look that Bellatrix had given him that morning when he'd entered Malfoy Manor for Yaxley's debriefing session. She'd delight in torturing him to insanity, of that he was very certain.
"Sssseverussss," Voldemort said, walking around the kneeling Potions master and slipping the tips of his skeletal fingers, "I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you this morning."
The Dark Lord didn't seem human, not really. He seemed to be more like an unspeakably alien being wearing the costume of a man. Something inhuman peered out from behind those cold, empty eyes. Severus did not believe in heaven or hell and did not consider himself religious in the least, but Voldemort made him wonder if perhaps something like a demon could actually exist.
Of course, Severus would never tell him this, and he was very careful to shield his mind from any thoughts that might even hint at his true thoughts. The Dark Lord scared the hell out of him, and for good reason. Severus had seen what had happened to those who had disobeyed their leader.
But he'd already gone much further than simple disobedience.
"My Lord," Severus said, bowing low until his knee touched the floor. He did not dare rise until the Dark Lord bade him to do so.
"I have considered your request and decided upon the price you will pay for the enjoyment of that mudblood witch that you so desire," Voldemort said, chuckling darkly.
Severus held his breath. He'd not actually expected the Dark Lord to grant his request, and the mere thought of the hateful look in Lily's eyes at being dragged to him alive while her son and husband were killed or captured was more than he could allow himself to think about. He hid the horrible thought away in a deep part of his mind and nodded as though he orchestrated deals with the devil on a regular basis.
"I have decided that you shall be my second, if I have need for you," Voldemort purred, touching Severus' chin and pulling up his face to look into his dark eyes. "You are a worthy vessel- powerful, with stronger magic than any of my flock. You will play this role upon my request. You belong to me just as she belongs to you. As long as we both hold up our end of the agreement, so shall this pact be in place."
Voldemort drew his wand and slashed quickly against his own forearm where his Mark lay. He motioned for Severus to hold out his Marked arm as well, mirroring the movement. Severus did not even flinch as the cut ran down the length of his Mark, red droplets of blood seeping to the surface immediately. Voldemort grabbed Severus by the inside of his elbow and pressed his cut against Severus' cut. A heavy pressure and heat seemed to fill the air as Voldemort said a few words and made quick, precise wand movements that Severus had never seen before. And then, it was gone. When the Dark Lord let go of his arm, Severus glanced at it and was not surprised to see that the cut had mended as though it had never been there at all. Severus flexed his arm and watched the Mark squirm lazily under his skin.
Blood magic.
"You are dismissed, Severus," the Dark Lord said with a nod.
"Thank you, my Lord," Severus replied, turning slowly and walking at a normal pace until he had finally reached the outskirts of the manor and Apparated away.
He would spend years after that incident researching blood magic, to no avail. Whatever dark magic Voldemort had called upon had not been in any magical text on blood magic that Severus had been able to find, even when he'd ordered some of the more hardcore dark magic tomes from Durmstrang.
He couldn't tell Albus, he knew, not while he was already treading on thin ice. He disgusted the Headmaster. How much more disgust would be added on if the old man knew that he'd shared blood with the Dark Lord? Severus could not chance being found out, and as the years had passed, he thought of it less and less.
Finally, he gave up on his research and decided that he would deal with the issue if it ever arose, though he still didn't know any specifics whatsoever. The Dark Lord had been vanquished, even if he was sure to return eventually. Severus put it out of his mind.
After all, it didn't seem likely that anything would come of it after such a long time had passed.
Severus opened his eyes and blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. He was lying on his back and was suddenly very aware of the needles and pins in his arm.
He looked over and nearly squeaked with surprise. Hermione's bushy hair was sprawled out over his arm and tickled against his neck ever so slightly. Her head was firmly pressed against his forearm. Luckily, it was the arm without the mutated Mark upon it, and Severus was able to work his arm free without waking her. Standing up, he felt his body aching in places that he didn't know could actually hurt. He looked down at Hermione, whose mouth was half open and her pillow was damp with a bit of drool, and smiled sadly. For some reason, even though she'd probably be horrified that he was seeing her in such a state, he found it oddly endearing. She snorted loudly as she shifted onto her back and he could see where her hair was stuck against one of her cheeks. He stifled the urge to gently pull it away from her face.
No. It wouldn't do to wake her.
The bathroom in the tent was surprisingly adequate. Severus would not have been surprised if she'd done some renovations on the facilities, especially after what he'd read in the Daily Prophet. There was a working shower inside with warm running water. Most Wizarding tents did not have the capacity for heated water, but this one did. Severus allowed the water to fall over his body for a long time and then washed himself up quickly with the bar of soap that sat on a soap dish on the rim of the tub.
He chanced a look at the Mark, but it wasn't any worse than it had been earlier. The snakes slithered lazily around his arm in an orderly spiral of black ink and the skull shook its jaw slightly as he kept his eyes on it. Voldemort was gone. For good this time.
"Then what the hell does this mean?" Severus mumbled aloud, shutting off the water and stepping out onto the towel he'd placed on the floor.
He dried himself quickly, all the while remembering the cryptic words that the Dark Lord had told him all of those years ago.
"Umbridge has something to do with all of this. I know it." He stared into the mirror and pointed his wand at the stubble on his face. He hated how scruffy it made him look and immediately removed it with a well-timed spell. "It wasn't just a dream. Figures that my waking life would be as much a nightmare as when I'm sleeping."
But he knew he didn't have much of a choice. If he didn't find the other Death Eaters, Umbridge would use Hermione. And he still owed a damn Life Debt to her. He cringed at his reflection in the mirror as he remembered how weak he'd allowed himself to be.
"She's practically my-" He froze as he saw the reflection of Hermione's sleepy face in the mirror as she entered the bathroom behind him.
"What was that?" she said with a yawn.
"Nothing," Severus said hurriedly, suddenly growing very aware of the fact that he was only wearing a towel around his hips. Hermione merely shrugged and went over to the cabinet to pull out a brush, which she immediately began using to tame her wild locks.
"I should only be a few minutes," she said, rubbing the sleep away from her eye with her free hand.
"I...I'll give you some privacy," Severus said uncertainly, nearly slamming the door behind him before she could say anything else.
Somehow, seeing her like that had ruined the dreamy sense of rightness that he'd felt before. Now, he felt like some sort of disgusting pervert; an old man who'd allowed himself to get far too close to someone to whom he owed a debt. After all, wasn't Hermione part of the generation that liked to play the field? He felt even more horrible when he imagined her scorn at thinking that their tryst had been anything but spontaneous and tied to his current situation.
He dressed quickly, though he had a devil of a time finding one of his socks. Eventually, he found it buried under the covers of the bed, which only further served to remind him of what he'd done. All the while, he began to feel more and more sorry for himself and did his best to ready himself for the rejection that was obviously on its way.
"Hey," Hermione said, placing her hand on his arm. Her eyes were wide and searching. He could see that she was trying to see if he was still in as much pain as before.
Severus flinched slightly at the unexpected contact but then pressed slightly against it, his eyes closing instinctively with pleasure.
No, he had to remind himself. She obviously doesn't think of me like that.
"I will be fine," he said shortly, not daring to look her in the eye. "I trust that things were...serviceable? I hope you didn't expect too much. As you can tell, I'm...inexperienced."
Hermione gave him a puzzled look for a moment and then shrugged, her eyes cool. "I….it was what it was. I was glad to help, in any case."
Helping? Is that what they call it these days?
"Er...yes," Severus said uncomfortably, "but really, I'm fine now, and we really ought to focus on the rest of our mission."
Hermione took her hand away, her eyes growing unfocused as she concentrated in thought and finally she nodded. "Okay. That sounds good. We'll stick with the plan."
They chatted awkwardly as Hermione worked out the next coordinates. It seemed from the owl that had been sent by the Ministry that they were actually ahead of schedule. Severus tried to focus on the thought of his freedom, but he found his mind backtracking to how soft Hermione's skin had felt against his body and how warm and hot it had been moving inside of her….and...and….she'd allowed him to…inside of her.
He gulped. No one had ever let him do that. Not that he wanted children of his own immediately or anything, but...just imagining it made his pants grow somewhat tighter than usual.
"You did use the contraceptive charm, didn't you?" Severus asked, hating how his voice sounded so much more demanding than he'd intended. "You don't want to get knocked up by someone like me. I'm not...reliable."
Hermione blushed scarlet and she huffed at him slightly. "For your information...I...did."
She didn't sound sure of her words and Severus' suspicions were confirmed when she hastily excused herself to go back to the bathroom.
"Well, of course I did!" she exclaimed, after she'd returned. "I'm not an idiot!"
Severus tried to stop the intrusive thoughts in his head, but it was incredibly hard not to imagine her swollen with his child, a wedding band on her finger as she looked up at him with adoration and-
He shook his head. Why was he being so ridiculous and sappy? Weren't men supposed to find casual rolls in the hay fun? Why, then, was he imagining rubbing her swollen feet and cooking her dinner while she read on the couch?
"I'm being stupid," he muttered, just as Hermione walked back to the table with a letter.
"The Ministry is sending us north to a small town near the topmost part of Scotland. A few Death Eaters have been sighted there," Hermione said flatly, looking at Severus as though he'd displeased her.
"Fine," Severus snapped, turning and stomping over to the door of the tent. Could this get any more awkward? He didn't think so. She could never, ever know how much sharing a bed with her meant to him. She was obviously focused on the mission, he thought bitterly, and if satisfying the mission objectives meant pity fucking the greasy Death Eater, then he was sure she'd make the sacrifice. Hermione was nothing if not determined. From how she was acting, it seemed obvious that it hadn't meant anywhere near as much to her as it had meant to him.
Still, Severus could feel a sense of protectiveness surge in his chest. He would protect her, he knew. He would sacrifice himself if needed. In fact, he was looking forward to it in some weird way. It would repay the debt and the slate would be washed clean.
If he was dead and gone, he wouldn't have to worry about the mental image of Hermione, his Hermione, glowing with love as they built a family together.
No. If he could not be happy, he could at least settle his debt. And then, he would never have to feel anything again.