Chapter 25

For the first time since she'd been taken two weeks ago, she woke up with Voldemort still in her room. She was groggy and shaky, probably from her dark magic use the previous night, and he actually woke her with a sensual kiss. It was as if they were lovers.

"I want to teach you something before I leave," Voldemort murmured against her lips. "Get dressed."

He was perched on the bed – fully dressed and unmoving – as he made the request. She became aware of her extremely naked state in his bed.

"Don't suppose you'll turn around?" Hermione said. He shook his head with a devilish smirk. "Thought not."

Despite her confident words, she was hypersensitive of each piece of her skin being watched by him as she slipped from the sheets. Being fully exposed in front of him had her scampering to the dresser with a full-body blush. And from the way he chuckled, she knew she was red as a tomato.

Her body had clearly crashed from the high of the previous night, and it shook and trembled as she got herself together. She could feel the craving inside her for the invigoration of dark magic, since her own magic felt sluggish and incomplete. She hoped Voldemort had no more temptations for her.

"How do you feel?"

She tried to still the trembling in her arms as she pulled her oxford on. She would not admit weakness. "Fine."

"You are a stubborn witch," Voldemort laughed. "If you ask me nicely, I may be able to help with your side-effects."

"I'm not doing more dark magic," she objected.

Voldemort glided over to her and moved her shaking hands out of the way to help her fasten the buttons on her shirt. "Did I say anything about dark magic, little witch? With as powerful a substance as dark magic, it will only worsen the crash later when your body must readjust. No, I have other ways to help you. Ask me." With a look and a kiss, he demanded her compliance. "Nicely."

"Kisses don't mean obedience," Hermione pointed out as he took the corner of her lips, then her cheeks, then trailed down her neck.

He chuckled. "I'm giving you an incentive."

"Such a prize," Hermione sassed even as she silently melted into his ministration. "Fine."

"What was that?" he pressed another kiss against the column of her neck, earning a soft gasp.

Hermione groaned. "Will you help me, oh Dark One?"

"Impertinent," Voldemort growled jokingly. "But let it not be said I don't take care of my Lady."

He pulled Hermione away from the dresser and over to the bed, where he had a vial of potion waiting for her. He handed it to her with a smile and a glint in his eyes that told her that if she questioned the contents of the vial, she'd be refused an answer. So she accepted it and downed it in one shot.

It tasted like a muscle relaxant.

"You're beginning to trust me, I see," he teased.

"I trust you not to kill me."

There was no need for him to say anything, and no reason for her to comment again. There was merely an acknowledgement between their gazes that said 'We may be intimate, but we are still enemies', and Voldemort did not push her to be anything else. Opposite sides of the war did not belong in their bed.

So they moved on, and Voldemort taught her. The muscle relaxant stilled the shaking moderately well and woke up her groggy limbs. As for her magic, it was reinvigorated when Voldemort taught her the new spell that she could use on the bloodstone collar around her neck.

"Use this and you will be transported to wherever I am," Voldemort promised her. "I cannot be brought to you, but if anything should happen to you that makes you afraid – if you need me – I want you to be able to come to me."

She was touched. He was giving her back some of the control over herself, and it was a gesture of trust. And with him looking so much like the pitiable Tom Riddle of Dumbledore's penseive, Hermione wanted to further nudge him towards a life of goodness. So she leaned forward and kissed his cheek tenderly.

"Thank you."

She was shocked by her own tenderness, but it appeared that Voldemort was even more shocked. He rounded on her and pinned her to one of the bed posts, barely making eye contact before he pressed his mouth against hers in a fiery, searing kiss. It was passionate like it hadn't been before, absent of seduction and instead focused on possessing her inside and out. She gasped for breath between his kisses. The onslaught was terrifying and heady at the same time, and she had no idea how she'd caused it. It was minutes before he broke away, only to place his forehead to hers and show her the intense lust in his eyes.

"You had better leave, witch," he growled. "Leave, before I lose control and confine you to the bed for the rest of the day."

His words made her blush, but she knew she needed to go. When Voldemort makes a threat he means it. She pushed away from him and turned, apparating away to Hogwarts and to her chambers therein. She'd left her robe at Sayre Mansion, so she needed to pull open the trunk Snape had brought her, pull out her old Gryffindor robes, and change the colour so she could use them for the day.

She was pulling on her old school tights when Snape knocked on her open door, regarding her carefully.

"You're not in your usual state of readiness," he noted, taking in her disheveled hair and her crease lines in her robes. "What happened?"

Her immediate thoughts were of the sex, the kisses, and the way he'd insisted on her being at his side from now on. But then, looking into Severus' face, she remembered the previous night and her magic flinched in want of that dark power.

"Dolohov is dead," she said aloud, testing the words. It made her glad in a strange way to say it out loud. She was disgusted at her own reaction.

"Are you sure?"

Hermione connected her eyes with his and steeled herself for the first of many appalled reactions.

"Sure enough. I'm the one who killed him." Snape's eyes narrowed, and he looked over her body for the shaking. For the second time, she felt glad that Voldemort had helped to eliminate that physical sign. "I need to see Dumbledore."

"No," moved next to her and tried to hand her a vial, "you need to be still. Take this, and tell me everything that needs to be relayed to Dumbledore. Today you are a student. Nothing more."

"I'm fine." I pulled on my loafers with minimal shaking. "Your lord took care of me afterwards."

"He provided the potion?"

Hermione nodded. "He did."

"And how did he manage the emotional upheaval?"

Hermione remained silent, but met his eyes. He knew what that meant.

Without ceremony, Severus pushed himself into her mind, exactly as she wanted him to. She didn't try to keep him out. It was easier for him to see anything in her head than to tell him what happened last night out loud. She relived Dolohov's death, their intimacy, and then the withdrawals. When he removed himself from her mind, he came and sat by her. She knew him well enough to see that the stiff posture meant he had no idea what to say to her.

"It just happened," she tried to defend herself.

"So it did," Severus sighed. He looked so . . . worn. "The Dark Lord is charismatic and experienced, and he knew exactly what dark magic would do to a young woman like yourself. If it makes a difference, you handled it well."

Hermione bit her lip. "I slept with him."

"That was his plan when he first brought in Dolohov," Severus told her. "It could have been much worse, Miss Granger; I've seen new recruits lose themselves to bloodlust after performing the Killing Curse and do unspeakable things. To succumb to the pleasures of your body is hardly the worst thing you could have done. I told you he wanted you, Miss Granger, and he played his hand last night. He got you. And from the looks of this morning, he'll have you from this point on."

"No!"

He raised a hand. "There's a difference between sex and allegiance, Miss Granger. I will not discourage you from finding some pleasure in the arrangement if you need it."

His face said otherwise, and Hermione could see it. Shame filled her.

"You're disgusted by me."

He hesitated. "The idea of a student of mine being bedded by my seventy-year-old dark master is not a pleasant thought, no matter his young appearance. But it is not you who I'm disgusted by."

Hearing him say it like that had Hermione looking down, humiliated. "He looks thirty, at most."

"That's why I don't blame you," Severus emphasized. "He is charismatic, intelligent, physically in his prime, and the only lover you have ever known. It isn't too extreme to think that you want his attention, Miss Granger, and it's not something to be ashamed of."

Hermione felt a little teary. "So I'm a silly, gullible, desperate little girl."

"Not silly," Severus corrected. "And the fact that you remain loyal to Mister Potter proves that you are far from gullible."

So I'm just desperate, Hermione thought. "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?"

Silence. With anyone else, the silence would have been a confirmation. With Severus, silence meant he hadn't decided.

"Please," Hermione pleaded in whisper, "please, don't."

Snape looked so old as he regarded her. "Miss Granger … the Dark Lord's emotional state may be important, as well as his attachment to you. Especially if – as you evidently believe – he has been restored to feeling. I understand it is a very … private matter. Yet, if you shared it with me, surely it is not as much of a leap to have it shared with the Headmaster?"

"He's not you," Hermione insisted, nearly tearful. "You… you're my friend, my mentor. And you know how hard he is to resist. Dumbledore … he won't understand, he'll never look at me the same way again."

Severus regarded her levelly. Of course the girl would remind him of his developing paternal feeling for her, the protective and loving feelings that seemed to always override his mind when the girl was concerned. Yet those feelings were very much in conflict. Watching a young woman who he felt so protective of being taken into the bed of his Dark Lord had sparked an intense need to protect her from the next encounter with him, hence his desire to inform Dumbledore. But the same need to protect wanted to preserve what little dignity the girl had left, opposing the same thought.

Finally, he sighed. He could not protect her from something she wanted, and it was clear that, whatever fear and hatred Hermione associated with the Dark Lord, she was intrigued by him. She wanted to be special, to be the person who could make the Dark Lord love again. All he could do was keep her grounded in the light so she didn't become another Bellatrix Lestrange.

"For now, I will leave out your … intimacy with the Dark Lord," Severus allowed. "However, if it becomes relevant, my hand will be forced."

He expected a Gryffindor-type stuttering of gratitude even as he was becoming more accustomed to Hermione's completely unreserved nature. Still, her hug caught him off-guard. He was completely stripped bare of his barriers when she gave her teary, murmured, and hurried thanks into his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shhh," he whispered, tucking the young girl into his embrace. "Shhh, it's alright."

They stayed like that for the longest time, teacher and student, friends. Hermione needed this. She couldn't feel anything, but she wanted to feel ashamed. She wanted to be guilty. Was it the dark magic, or her? Was she really not feeling guilty for sleeping with the Dark Lord, or was the dark magic preventing her from feeling, the same way a love potion had prevented Voldemort from feeling before?

She spent the day in a shaky haze, expecting to feel but unable to. She'd gone from hateful to horny to crying into Professor Snape's cloak within 12 hours, coupled with the emotional unbalance brought on by the black magic she'd used the night before. If she was able to think rationally, she would have known that the black magic was working its way through her. But instead, she was hazy, only able to feel in extremes.

Her classes were mostly ignored that day. She made it to Transfiguration fine, but after trying to climb the staircase with her classmates and ending up collapsing in a shaky pile, she elected to apparate back to her rooms for a much-needed rest, where she stayed for most of the day. Or she did, until Professor Snape had come personally to escort her to defense class.

Defense Class was only with Slytherins, and none of them had been a part of Harry's defense group to learn the patronus. That injustice didn't stand by Professor Snape, and he was going to fix it. Unfortunately, as the only one who'd been in the DA, she was called on to produce hers.

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape called from the front of class, "come forward."

She walked to the front of the class and stood before her friend and professor. The class didn't titter as Gryffindor would do, and for that Hermione was grateful. It provided some dignity to the experience.

"I believe this is yours, Miss Granger," he extended his hand, which held a beautiful Kingwood wand. The handle was etched in a Celtic design that looked so much like the ritual circles that she was learning from. When it met her hand, she felt the harmony of all the components she'd selected before her voyage into dark magic, but the wand responded to her just the same as it had before. It was reassuring.

"I don't believe you are so competent that you can produce a Patronus wandlessly, Miss Granger," Snape bit without his usual malice. "Please, demonstrate for the class."

"Can I?" she asked timidly, looking at him with tears in her eyes. "Within a day of-?"

Snape knew what she was saying. He nodded sharply. "Demonstrate."

So she turned to face the class, a degree of confidence given to her by Severus and her new wand, before she raised it to the class. She focused on the thought of her friends, the ones she no longer was allowed, and now she included Snape in there. "Expecto Patronum!"

She expected the turtle again, the reassuring feeling it would bring. Instead, a huge form moved languidly from her wand. It was an orca.

"Merlin, not again," she groaned aloud, earning a look from her classmates. Why can't I just be normal?

Her patronus was large enough that many of the Slytherins in her class were completely overtaken by the form until she sent it towards the ceiling of the room. It moved around a bit before coming face to face with her, reminding her of her otter patronus. This… this was different though. Not happy and carefree like her otter, and not as reassuring as the turtle, it was … a predator. Where the turtle was reassuring and resigned, this was an apex predator that reacted with power and fury. The feeling was … empowering? Strengthening? The symbolism of the black and white colouring was not lost on her – the dark magic had done this.

She had changed. Again.

But even if the dark magic had changed her Patronus, it still revitalized her to cast the happy charm. The orca gave her that sense of empowerment, and she could feel how the Patronus had cast from her most of her haze from the day. Pure light magic, in its highest form, could not abide the dark.

She glanced at Snape, who was observing her carefully. The look she gave him in question was answered with a sharp nod. She broke the enchantment and let her new patronus vanish without a trace.

"Well?" Snape snapped at the class. "You've seen it performed, now practice!"

The Professor motioned for her to come to the desk and he put up a privacy charm or two while the rest of the class practised.

"Do you understand yet why you needed to come to this class, Miss Granger?" Severus asked, his eyes cautiously on her.

She smiled, genuinely, for the first time that day. "Yes. Thank you. I feel better now. But I could have stayed in my rooms and performed it there, you know."

That earned a smirk from the Professor. "True, but I do not permit anyone but those in my strictest confidence to see my Patronus."

"So I was your way out of it?" Hermione chuckled. "The measures you go to for your mystery."

Severus chuckled and reached into his desk and placed a dark potion on his desk in front of her. "Take this when you reach your rooms. It should take care of the last residuals of the curse. I will excuse you from your final hour."

"I don't need-"

He cut her off. "Miss Granger, I insist. Go and rest."

She saluted diligently. "Yes, sir!"