A/N: Teehee.
Darkness and Silence
By Kittenshift17
Chapter Twelve
He greeted her politely and spoke calmly, all whilst looking wickedly amused rather than offended by her obvious disgust. Hermione shuddered in utter horror. His voice, which she'd expected to be high and cold, and utterly scathing, was actually quite pleasant and even warm. She recalled with sudden clarity that she'd once read, when researching the First War, that Lord Voldemort had initially gained a following because he began his campaign in a vein that appealed to oppressed and disgruntled magic-users who were in the chokehold of laws designed to protect muggles more than it did wizards.
She had also read that prior to him revealing his more sinister viewpoints, he was well known for being handsome, charismatic, and well-spoken. The looks had obviously been ruined, but it seemed he was no less charismatic when he fixated on a person and despite her disgust, Hermione experienced sudden understanding as to how so many people had fallen for his plots.
He might be terribly wicked, and might very well be intending her no small amount of harm, but she found that even simply standing in his presence and having yet to complete the exchange of greetings, he was intriguing to say the least.
"Lord Voldemort, I presume?" she managed after clearing her throat and glancing around quickly, hoping to find some weapon or path to escape.
"Let us not pretend we are unaware of the identity of the other, Hermione," he said, smiling indulgently as though she were a child who'd told an unamusing joke. "I see you've made short work of Antonin's wards down in the dungeons despite being relieved of your wand."
He held up the vine-wood instrument that had not left her possession since she'd been eleven, offering her a knowing little smile when she unconsciously took a step closer, her hand lifting as though she might reach for it.
"Please," he inclined his head politely to a second wing-backed chair opposite his own – this one facing the fireplace, rather than the staircase. "Join me, Hermione. You and I have much to discuss."
"I'd really prefer that if it is your intent to kill me, you don't delay and offer me some false sense of comfort or hope that I might escape unscathed," Hermione said mildly, frowning.
He laughed, and Hermione shuddered at the terrible sound like rattling bones.
"Ah, so there is some spirit in you. I'd wondered what Severus might've been attracted to. He never did like a meek witch, and I suspect you are anything but," Voldemort said, and Hermione loathed the faintest flicker of pride that sparked at the summation.
She frowned further at his mention of Snape, wondering just how he knew that she and Professor Snape had been intimate.
"Did you invade my mind while I was unconscious?" she asked, worried that he might've uncovered something terrible.
"No," he smiled. "Sit with me, Hermione. It is only polite that discussion take place over tea, no? And you've been unconscious for quite some time. I expect you're thirsty."
Hermione frowned, having not noticed how dry her mouth was until that moment.
"Have you poisoned the tea?" she asked suspiciously.
"My, Gryffindors are a blunt lot, aren't they?" Voldemort chuckled again. "To so bluntly ask such a thing is to malign my character, you know? In polite society, one is expected to follow social cues and risk such a poisoning by detecting from their hosts actions whether they might be about to be poisoned."
"I am aware," Hermione replied evenly. "However, it would be folly to do anything other than mistrust you. You are, after all, well known."
"And as waspishly eloquent as Severus, too," Voldemort smirked. "Come, let us not reach the portion of the evening where my request that you join me in sitting becomes a command, Hermione Granger. I am not known for my patience, after all."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, having no doubt that he meant he'd use the Imperius curse on her to make her cooperate if need be. Crossing the room warily, watching as he lowered her wand back into his lap, Hermione moved until she was able to perch on the edge of the chair. She watched as he waved his hand, silently and wordlessly levitating his chair and causing it to spin until they were facing one another whilst both seated.
"Tea?" he offered politely, levitating a freshly brewed pot over the two cups and pouring them. Hermione inclined her head, her frown deepening at his manners. "Milk or sugar?"
"One and a dash, please," she said, finding herself resorting to her own manners when he was being so refined.
She watched him fix his own tea, too, before he lifted it to his lips and drank deeply. Hermione waited for him to swallow, and then to smile at her, his eyes just daring her to drink with him. Reaching for her bravery, and supposing that it would be better a quick death via poison than any other torturous end he might offer her, Hermione carefully picked up her cup and lifted it to her lips, taking a small sip to wet her mouth and having to clamp down on the urge to gulp down the liquid in order to warm her chilled form and relieve the parch of her throat.
"Now," Voldemort said, looking wickedly amused by her bravery. "You and I have much to discuss, Hermione Granger. The foremost of which regards the nature of your relationship with Severus."
"Professor Snape and I have no relationship," Hermione said evenly, setting her cup back on her saucer and trying to resist the urge she had to fling it at him.
Voldemort tutted, steepling his fingers once more.
"Hermione, it does not do that we lie to one another. Denying any relationship with Severus is a lie, and one that achieves very little. Just as I will not deny my intention to subject you to some of my less than polite habits, you will not deny your association with my most valued spy. Understood?"
"It's not a lie," Hermione smiled meanly. "Severus Snape is a teacher at Hogwarts and I am a student. For six years I have attended his lessons and often defied him when it suited me."
"You have been engaging in coitus with him," Voldemort said.
"True," Hermione inclined her head, though she wondered how he knew that. Had Snape told him? Was Harry right in thinking that Snape's intrigue with her was born of an order from the very wizard seated before her? "However, engaging in sex does not automatically equate to having a relationship. He is my teacher, and I have had sex with him. There is no more to it."
"No?" he asked. "So, it would be incorrect of me to assume that you are attracted to him?"
"No," Hermione shook her head. "I make it a habit to avoid having sex with those I'm unattracted to."
"And just as specifically literal as him when he's feeling contrary, too," Voldemort murmured, eyeing her like she was some intriguing experiment he was examining under glass. "Allow me to rephrase. You are romantically intrigued by Severus and have been for months. You find his voice and his hands and his wicked little smirk alluring, and you have, on more than one occasion, wondered if anything might ever come of you crush."
Hermione's cheeks stained crimson.
"Begging your pardon, Lord Voldemort," she choked out. "But what has any of that to do with you?"
"Everything," he said, a mean little smile affixing it's upon his hideous face. "You see, my understanding of your character is that you are a mudblood. One who has befriended Harry Potter and several known Blood Traitors. You have made a name for yourself among your peers as being particularly clever and highly logical. You have also aligned yourself with the likes of werewolves, house-elves, giants, and other half-breeds. You are aligned with the Order of the Phoenix, and you champion a fight against whatever you deem to be prejudice within our world, no?"
Hermione supposed it would be contrary to balk over his description of her as a mudblood when it seemed clear he meant the very basest of definitions, in that both of her parents were muggles. He didn't seem to be using the word maliciously with the intent to insult her, and so she didn't allow herself to rise to the bait.
"Does my character intrigue you so?" she asked mildly, reaching for her tea-cup again and lifting it to her lips, regarding him over the rim. "I suppose I ought to be flattered. A muggle-born witch known to Lord Voldemort, leader of the blood-manic tyranny bent of the subjugation of muggles and any other magical being, not a wizard. Such an honour I've been bestowed."
"You know, I tolerate the silver-tongued sarcasm of Severus and Lucius, Miss Granger, for they are pledged to me and they amuse me. It would be unwise of you to assume you hold such high regard as to be permitted the same liberties."
Here, Hermione laughed. She didn't mean to, but the idea of being so properly chastised amused her more that it should.
"I beg your pardon, Lord Voldemort," she said, giggling a little. "I will endeavour to keep my sarcasm to a minimum. However, you are holding me in high enough regard to have learned so many interesting facts about my character, and so one must be left to wonder just what has prompted such interest from a man who, by all accounts, believes that people like me are fit for nothing better than slavery, degradation, and death. What could I possibly have done to have so captured your attention?"
"Severus," Voldemort answered, sipping his own tea once more.
"You take issue with his choice of bed-partner?" she asked.
"Often," Voldemort nodded.
"Dear Merlin, you're not uh… going to torture me for stepping on your territory, are you? Fancy him, do you?"
He narrowed his terrible red eyes on her. "Miss Granger, I will not warn you about the extent of my patience again," he said, apparently annoyed with her. "Now, you have drawn my attention because of your relationship with Severus for one reason, and one reason only. You see, everything about your character would suggest that aligning yourself with a Death Eater – even for so brief a tryst as a casual sexual encounter – suggests a certain willingness to overlook that which others of your position revile, scorn, and openly attack, no?"
"You want to know why someone like me might shag someone like him?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You had me kidnapped to find out why I'd shag him?"
He inclined his head, awaiting an explanation.
"Would you like a justification or a defence of my actions?" Hermione asked quietly. "I'm not sure I can offer either."
"You have seen Severus's tattoo, no?" he asked, frowning a little. "You know he is a Death Eater, loyal to me and my cause."
"I've seen his Dark Mark," Hermione chose her words carefully.
"And you understand that he earned it long before Albus Dumbledore brought him under his wing and foolishly believed Severus might turn traitor to me and his fellow Death Eaters?" Voldemort pushed.
"I am aware that there are certain aspects of his past, and his present, that my friends take issue with, and that his past indiscretions are undoubtedly things that would turn my stomach," Hermione said, wondering what he was getting at.
"And yet, you are still infatuated."
"I never said I was infatuated," Hermione protested.
"You didn't have to," Voldemort smiled indulgently again. "It's all right there in the forefront of your mind. I don't even have to dig for it. You are attracted to Severus. You fancy him, despite knowing what he is – perhaps even because of what he is. And I wonder how that can be when you are so obviously a morally good person. Unprejudiced. Logical. Self-righteous. Virtuous. These are your attributes. Yet you are drawn to a man whose soul is blackened by Dark magic and whose moral compass is thoroughly corrupt. Someone cruel. Cold. Wicked. Merciless. Dark."
Hermione nodded slowly, supposing that there was little point denying her crush when he apparently could see inside her head enough to find it with ease. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps blatant honestly would be best.
"I am," she admitted. "I cannot explain why. I could detail that his cruel sense of humour is as clever as it is creative. I could discuss his loyalty, or his wicked ability to unsettle those around him without uttering a single word. He is powerful. He is… interesting. I enjoy his rapier wit as much as I enjoyed carnal delight in his embrace. I cannot pinpoint why I'm fascinated by him; I can simply accept it and act upon it. As I have done."
"Indeed," Voldemort said quietly, falling silent as he regarded her, still looking morbidly curious in a way that unnerved her.
"May I ask why that intrigues you?" she asked.
He tipped his head, still watching her before he smiled widely.
"It calls into question your loyalty to Potter," he said.
"My loyalty will always lie with Harry," Hermione hissed, stung by the accusation. "The scratching of a proverbial itch does not negate my loyalty to him."
Voldemort laughed.
"And what of his loyalty to you, Hermione Granger?" he asked. "Do you think Harry Potter will be forgiving when he learns you have been allowing my dour and wicked Potions Master to crawl between your thighs? When you have been lying to him about doing so? Come, you know the boy well, yes? You tell me. Is Harry Potter going to forgive you when he finds out you've been fucking a Death Eater?"
Hermione blinked in surprise as the crassness and the amount of venom in that final line and she narrowed her eyes.
"I had no intention of telling him," she said evenly.
Voldemort's smile grew positively lascivious and he leaned forward in his chair.
"It would be a mistake to imagine that your will might come before mine, Hermione," he said softly.
"You mean to out my secret?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "To what end? Surely hurting Harry would more effectively be achieved by killing me, than by simply telling him of my indiscretions?"
"Do you imagine that I've reached the power and gained the following I have collected by ruthlessly and thoughtlessly murdering any who might annoy me, Miss Granger?" Voldemort asked. "You are well educated, for a mudblood. You have a firm grasp on the circumstance of my last rise to power. You tell me why it will be far more painful for Potter to have to look at you everyday knowing you're nothing but a Death Eater's whore, rather than by allowing him the rallying point and outrage of offering you a swift end."
Hermione felt dread twist in the pit of her stomach, realising instantly that while her death would wound Harry and her friends, seeing her with Severus – knowing what she had done and might very well still be doing – would torment them far worse. Like a throbbing thumb hit with a hammer and bumping on everything, it would be a constant reminder of the pain, rather than simply lopping the digit off.
"You mean to set me free, then?" she asked quietly.
"Oh, yes," Voldemort smirked. "Your wand will be returned to you in short order and you will soon be set free to return to your precious Order. Even now, they scramble to protect Potter and to rescue you from my clutches. Imagine their horror as they imagine what you might endure under my care when they can't see any of the usual signs of torture. Imagine their distrust when I send you back into the midst. Will they think you a spy, under the Imperius curse and reporting back to me? Will they think you some broken, fragile doll, shattered and destroyed in the clutches of my wicked Death Eaters. Will Molly Weasley, the wretched blood traitor, still imagine a life where you'll be her daughter-in-law when she finds out you've been soiled by the Dark?"
Hermione hated the way her eyes stung with the urge to cry, realising that he wouldn't just be punishing them, but would also be punishing her. He would isolate her from her friends and make her something sad and terrible in their eyes. Harry would hate her if he found out about her and Snape. Ron might already know, but she was no fool. She knew that Ron would fear she'd been raped and tortured. She knew that Molly had been holding out hope that she and Ron would be a couple, one day. She knew that the likes of Remus and Tonks and Ginny would look at her pityingly, wondering what she had endured and likely would refuse to speak about.
"What do you mean to do to me before sending me back?" she asked softly, doubting he would simply return her unscathed.
He smirked at her, a terrible, almost proud smile that made her feel like a stupid child he was indulging.
"Nothing you can't handle, Hermione," he said just as softly. "Nothing you won't revel in. Nothing you haven't secretly longed for, deep in your heart."
Hermione's stomach twisted with dread.
"Tell me, what do you think of this place?" he asked abruptly, his sinister promise forgotten and his shoulders squaring as he suddenly got to his feet. He offered her his hand like a proper gentleman, apparently intending to give her a tour or lead her somewhere.
Hermione eyed the appendage like it were a live snake and he raised his eyebrows in silent challenge. Or he would have done, she supposed, suddenly noticing that much like his head was bald, his brow-ridges bore no hair. Perhaps the result of whatever serpentine traits he'd picked up in his return to human form. She could tell from his expression that he would not tolerate the insult of her refusing his assistance and Hermione shuddered as she reached out, putting her small hand inside his and allowing him to help her to her feet. His skin was cold to touch, and the very thought of his skin against hers turned her stomach.
"Brave little mudblood, aren't you?" he asked. "Definitely Severus's type."
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"Where is Severus?" she asked him.
"Oh, you'll see him soon enough, I'm sure," Voldemort smiled. "Now come. A tour of this lovely dwelling is in order."
He led her across the room, tucking her arm through his elbow and escorting her like some dapper gentleman of old. Hermione felt ill, but she didn't dare pull her hand away as he led her through a door and down a narrow corridor. The design of the house seemed to be gothic-Victorian and Hermione noted the dark colours of everything, wondering why it was that villains insisted on darkness and dampness and a complete lack of taste.
"The grounds are lovely in the winter, no?" he asked, leading her down the hall and through another doorway into a long, open room with an impressively sized dining table. One entire wall was filled up with windows that overlooked a breathtaking garden, even whilst shrouded in snow. He led her to the window, letting her look out and Hermione couldn't deny that he was right. There was a small lake in the distance, but the foreground was filled with perfectly manicured gardens, a fantastic polished marble fountain in the shape of a rearing herd of unicorns, and a hedge maze.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked, breathless with the view, the world blanketed in gleaming white snow that was utterly undisturbed.
"Selwyn Hall," he told her. "Not far from Stonehaven."
Hermione frowned.
"This is the home of that family who was slaughtered down to the last child?" she asked.
"No longer," Voldemort said. "In fact, it is the home Severus is poised to inherit. Glorious, no?"
"It's lovely," Hermione said tightly, the swirling pit of dread inside her stomach begin to roil and bubble terribly.
"Come, I will show you to your quarters," Voldemort hummed, seeming pleased. Hermione suspected he could feel her mount dread and was amused by it.
"My quarters?" she asked, alarmed.
"Unless you'd prefer to return to the dungeons?" he offered. "Only, you've been down there for almost three full days and so you're beginning to smell."
Hermione blanched.
"Three days?" she hissed. "I was unconscious for three days?"
"Antonin was a little overzealous when he knocked you on the head," Voldemort said, as though that were the only cause for her concern.
"You've been holding me captive for three days?" she demanded, pulling her arm out of his grip to glare at the Dark wizard hatefully, preparing now to lose her temper.
"Indeed," he answered imperiously. "And I'll have you know, Hermione Granger, that I'm rather put out with you for taking quite so long to wake up. I have a very busy schedule and catering to the healing time of mudbloods is rarely a priority of mine."
"My apologies for inconveniencing you. Next time, perhaps don't have me kidnapped and beaten over the head," she snarled, glaring at him hatefully.
She jumped back in fright when he began to laugh and clapped his hands together like a small boy, apparently delighted by her responses.
"So like Severus when you lose your temper," he said cheerfully. "I am so looking forward to your reunion with him."
"Will that be soon?" Hermione demanded.
"Just as soon as you've washed up and dressed yourself. If you would permit me to continue escorting you to your quarters, you will find that everything is laid out and ready for you in preparation for this evening."
"This evening?" she asked, not at all liking the gleam in those red eyes.
"Oh yes, Hermione, my friend," he said, smiling almost gently now. "This evening you'll be attending a fine Christmas dinner at Malfoy Manor alongside myself, Severus, the Malfoys and the entire cohort of my loyal Death Eaters. Won't that be fun?"
Hermione had to lunge for the nearest window and crack it open, leaning through the gap when the limited contents of her roiling stomach decided to make a reappearance.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
"Is there any word, Severus?" Albus asked quietly across the dining table at Grimmauld Place while the entirety of the Order were seated and fuming, beside themselves with worry. No member had been excused due to age on this meeting. Severus had only just managed to return from Malfoy Manor and the debauchery he'd been sucked into on the Dark Lord's Orders.
He paced restlessly back and forth in front of the fireplace, trying to bring his body temperature back to something that vaguely resembled normal. He had been forced to retreat deeper and deeper into his Occlumency as the Dark Lord toyed with him, and his brethren geared up in preparation for the Lordship ceremony that would pass the ownership of Selwyn Hall to him.
"The Dark Lord is holding her somewhere," Severus said quietly, continuing to pace without looking at any of them. "I have not been entrusted with the location, though I suspect that he means to reveal her this evening."
"This evening?" Albus pushed, having asked all the others to remain silent and allow him to question Severus.
"He is hosting a Yuletide dinner at Malfoy Manor," Severus said. "Attendance has been made mandatory for every Death Eater, every sympathizer to the cause, and every member of their families, down to the last child."
"He means to kill them?" Albus asked, looking alarmed.
Severus snorted.
"If he plans to sacrifice anyone this evening, it will undoubtedly be one know-it-all little mudblood," Severus sneered abrasively, and several people hissed at him for the term. "Based on Narcissa and Lucius's knowledge of the event, I don't believe he means for this evening to be a grisly affair. It is Christmas, after all. A time for giving. Tonight marks the beginning of the week long celebration in the lead up to the Dark Lord's birthday."
"You believe Hermione will be in attendance?" Albus asked, and Severus caught the way he had to flick his wand at Potter to Silence him when the boy opened his mouth, set to explode.
"And dressed up like a fine china doll for all to gawk at," Severus growled. "She will not enjoy this evening. I do not know where she has been held or what she has endured since her capture. All I have managed to learn is that the Dark Lord summoned one of Narcissa's personal elves this evening, intent on enlisting her assistance to make Miss Granger presentable."
"You suspect he has a purpose for capturing her and presenting her to the brethren?" Albus asked, his brow furrowing, and Severus glanced over to meet the old man's gaze. There was no twinkle in those blue eyes this evening.
"It's a time for giving, Albus," Severus said in a low voice. "He means to give me Selwyn Hall as a lavish Christmas gift."
"That has nothing to do with Hermione," Weasley interrupted, obviously missing the silent conversation carrying on between Severus and Albus.
"You believe he means to initiate the rituals of Old Magic to ensure your Lordship?" Albus said, his eyes widening.
All around the table the older generation of witches and wizards gasped in horror, recoiling from the very idea.
"He likes for things to be done properly," Severus sneered.
"Severus, no," Minerva said, her lower lip trembling.
"You believe he means to utilise Granger for the task?" Moody asked, and Severus fought the urge to fling hexes at all of them and flee the room, realising he was on the brink of revealing his indiscretions with the girl.
"I can see no other reason for him to have captured her and to be planning to invite her to dinner. Were she to be the sport of the evening, she would not be invited to sit at the table. The scandal of inviting a muggle-born to sit alongside pureblood families that date back centuries will not be for nothing."
"Severus, no!" Minerva whispered harshly, he eyes filling. "Not the girl."
Severus clenched his fist, looking away from her tortured expression and into the flames.
"What's he going to do?" Ron Weasley asked in a low voice. "What does a Lordship ceremony in the Old Magic entail that might call for someone like Hermione?"
"It's a blood ceremony," Lupin spoke up. "One that calls for a human sacrifice. To engage in Lordship the candidate in question must perform the human sacrifice and must… Severus, he means to have you marry, as well?"
Severus didn't dare look at any of them.
"Whom?" Minerva asked, her voice tight.
"I'm told that the Dark Lord has also been meeting regularly with Alecto Carrow," Severus bit out, reaching for a half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the mantle above the fire and twisting the lid off furiously.
"He means to have you sacrifice Hermione and marry Carrow?" Minerva gasped. "We have to save her!"
Severus's gut twisted, and he peered over his shoulder, once again meeting Albus's gaze. The old man's eyes widened when he realised what Severus was implying with that single look.
"Severus," he said. "You cannot be serious."
Severus tipped the bottle to his lips.
"What?" Weasley asked. "Serious about what?"
Severus would give it to the brat, for someone usually so unobservant, he was proving sharp this evening.
"Severus, why?" Albus asked the most important question.
His laugh was dark and cruel, his back to all of them.
"Does it matter?" Severus asked. "I cannot save her. The Dark Lord is determined."
Molly Weasley burst into tears. "Oh, my poor girl," she sobbed into her husband's shoulder and Severus fought the urge to inform them all that there was nothing poor about her and that she'd probably enjoy every minute of the ceremony when it commenced.
"What is it?" Potter finally threw of the silencing charm. "What's going to happen to Hermione?"
"Harry…" Lupin began gently. "She… Gods, Severus. There's nothing you can do to save her?"
Severus peered over at the wolf. "Not unless you'd like to crawl in there and fight Greyback before stealing her away."
"I'll do it," Lupin said immediately. "Where is she being held?"
"No clue," Severus said, his mouth twisting angrily. "I won't know where she is until she's presented to the brethren at dinner this evening at Malfoy Manor."
"I could go in your stead," Lupin offered. "Polyjuice potion. I could snatch her away."
"Even in my skin, Greyback would smell you for what you truly are," Severus reminded him. "You would be in the midst of the entire court and all of their families. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of people. You would not escape with your life, Lupin, and Granger would lose hers in the scuffle."
Remus deflated, his brow pulling down into a terrible frown.
"Is he going to kill her?" Potter asked. "I swear to Merlin, Snape, if you kill Hermione, I'll pull you apart piece by piece until there's nothing left."
The whole table was silent for a long moment at the boy's dark threat and Severus turned toward him slowly, his lips curling back into a terrible grimace that looked almost like a cruel smile.
"Oh, the Dark Lord doesn't intend to have me kill her, Potter," Severus practically purred. "You imagine he can't tell the difference between the brief sting of killing off someone you love over returning her to you broken and ruined?"
Potter frowned.
"Severus, you can't mean…" Minerva gasped, and Severus narrowed his eyes before lifting the whiskey bottle to his lips once more and skolling the contents in one.
His eyes were closed as he drank, and so he didn't see the attack coming until someone took him by the throat, propelling him backward until he hit the wall. Severus's eyes sprang open and he dug his wand into the ribs of the wizard choking him, expecting Potter. He frowned in surprise when the angry blue eyes and dull red hair of Ronald Weasley filled his gaze.
Ah, so the ex-lover of the girl did care for her.
"If you do anything to make this harder for her than it needs to be, I'm going to put you in the ground, Snape," Weasley snarled as some of his family members rose to their feet in surprise at his attack. "I don't care who you have to hurt, or how you have to defy your Dark Lord, you bring Hermione back to us, whole and unhurt and as annoyingly bossy as she can possibly be or so help me, the things that you and your Death Eater buddies do to people will look like child's play in comparison to the hell I'll unleash on you. Do you understand? I think we both know exactly what you're going to have to do to save her, and exactly why she's in this mess to begin with, and if you don't get her out of there safe, then don't you bother coming back at all. You got me?"
Severus eyed the young wizard hatefully, realising as he listened to the boy's threats that he knew. He knew why Granger had been taken. He knew Severus had been fucking her.
"She told you," he said quietly, frowning.
"She tells me everything," Weasley retorted.
"Mr Weasley, unhand Severus at once," Minerva barked when the boy glared into his face, just daring Severus to deny it or to hex him. He itched with the urge to do just that, aching with the need to take his fury and his impotence in this situation out on someone.
He wouldn't let it be this boy, no matter that he deserved it for daring to threaten him and daring to touch him. He wouldn't take his fury out on Miss Granger's closest confidant. She would be in need of him when – if – Severus managed to snatch her out of the Dark Lord's clutches alive. Shoving Weasley back with all of his considerable strength, the boy stumbled across the room and collided with the table while Severus straightened his robes before glaring down his nose at them all when a few of the Order members glared at him for his rough treatment of the younger wizard.
Before he could open his mouth to argue with Weasley's suggestion, or sneer at him over what Miss Granger would become, searing pain shot through his left forearm and Severus hissed, clutching the Dark Mark concealed under his sleeve and gritting his teeth against the agony. It seemed the Dark Lord was in high spirits and feeling overzealous to see them.
"Severus?" Albus said quietly when a few people muttered in surprise over his sudden show of pain.
Severus darted his gaze to the old man's, waiting for whatever parting words the old sod might offer him before he could walk to his demise.
"In order for the ritual Tom is planning to work, Miss Granger would have to agree to this of her own volition," Albus said quietly. "Are you sure you can save her?"
Severus felt his lips twist into a truly wicked smirk, stung by the insinuation that the little swot might not agree to whatever he had to do to get her out of there alive.
"Believe me, Albus," Severus drawled wickedly. "Miss Granger is always entirely willing where I'm concerned."
Minerva gasped in a choked breath, looking appalled, and around the table many of his colleagues all looked horrified and like he'd just declared himself a lascivious cad.
"What have you done to Hermione?" Potter snarled, shooting to his feet as Severus began rounding the table, heading for the door.
When he reached where Potter stood, Severus leaned in, sneering coldly at the Chosen One.
"Only those things she begged of me," he drawled cruelly. "And you can rest assured, Mr Potter, she begs like an angel."
"You bastard!" Potter shouted, flinging a hex at him. "You're lying!"
Severus laughed, blocking the hex with ease and raising his eyebrows.
"Am I?" he asked.
"I'll kill you for this," Potter snarled at him. "How dare you besmirch Hermione's character just to make yourself feel better about the things you'll have to do to bring her back?"
Severus laughed coldly. "Potter, I'm certain that you have no real grasp on Miss Granger's character at all. You claim to be her best friend, but you don't even know what she likes or who she fucks. In your arrogance, you've merely assumed you know the type of witch she is becoming. You presume that she is all goodness and light and cleverness and that she'd never so much as peek into the Restricted Section of the library. You assume she'd never break the rules unless you're influencing her."
Potter's left eye twitched and Severus smirked.
"I'll bet you imagined her to be a prudish little virgin, too," Severus taunted, unable to hold his tongue when his arm was throbbing, and he'd been drinking, and he was about to walk to a fate that would either have him murdering or marrying the very witch he spoke of. "Believe me, Mr Potter, that is very far from the truth. It is that arrogance that the Dark Lord seeks to exploit as he rubs your nose in the fact that your sweet, clever little friend isn't so loyal after all. He'll send her back to you tainted and infected with the Darkness she's become so intrigued with, and he'll revel in your torment when you arrogantly assume that her capture was all your fault. The witch I'll return to this very house will not be the girl you thought she was, and when you inevitably recoil from her in disgust for her choices and her associations it will be me who'll have to put her back together."
"Severus, enough," Albus intervened when Potter's wand arm twitched and his face twisted with fury like he might curse him.
"If I were you, I'd see to it that the girl's parents are fetched and ready to receive her should I manage to save her from death, Albus," Severus said coldly. "The things she will endure before she is permitted to return are things that will make her cry for her mother."
With that said, and his teeth gritted against another wave of pain emanating from his Dark Mark, Severus stalked out of Grimmauld Place, bracing himself for the horror to come and hating himself for the Darkness whispering inside his head that it was going to be the night of his life.
