Chapter 25

Severus covertly flicked his eyes between Voldemort, the snake, and the little student who was currently doing far too good a job of sucking his cock. As his fingers closed around the Basilisk fang in his cloak, he realised this was going to be a supreme test of his control. To commit murder whilst in the middle of receiving a blow-job? Well, that would be a new one, even for him, despite every foul act he had done in the past, and been forced to do in the present.

Nagini swept her immense, heavy body across the polished wooden floor and approached her master with a speed that belied her size. Her pointed head lifted as she mounted the arm of the chair in which he was seated, and slithered across his pathetic excuse for a cock, causing his eyes to roll back in his head with apparent pleasure.

If Severus wasn't feeling nauseous before, he certainly was now.

Voldemort's eyes snapped into focus, and he regarded Snape with jealousy and suspicion.

"Enough," he commanded, petting the snake who was now gently writhing in his lap, presumably providing her master with sexual pleasure. "I tire of you exhibiting yourself before me, Severus, thoughtlessly parading the very thing I am yet unable to participate in."

"Certainly, My Lord. Up, girl. Remove yourself from me," he told Granger sharply, lifting her mouth roughly from his weeping erection. "Stand."

She stood up, wiping her mouth and looking more demeaned, frightened and subservient than he had ever seen her. He hoped that this was all only an act for the Dark Lord, and that what he'd been forced to do to her had not genuinely broken her spirit. He remained in the chair and dropped his hands to his trousers in order to put himself away and refasten them, but Voldemort stopped him.

"Leave it, Severus. Allow me to gaze upon what I wish to be mine."

Snape allowed the snake-faced tyrant to stare at his cock, reddened by Granger's attentions, and still partly hard from the nagging of the unsatisfied compulsion. The silence in the room became thick with tension, there was no sound to be heard apart from Nagini shuffling herself on the deformed groin of the Dark Lord in what was clearly a well-practised manner, whilst Voldemort looked enviously at his own, generous penis, and Severus hoped that he would not have to witness Riddle's completion in such a repulsive set-up.

Several minutes passed, and Voldemort seemed to be no nearer climax than he'd been previously. Snape wondered whether he was even capable of it. During revels the Dark Lord only watched, never participated. Chancing a look to his right, he saw that Granger was reaching under her cloak, obviously thinking that the time was right to take out the snake, and she was most likely correct, while the creature and Voldemort were both distracted. As they'd agreed, it was better to let her do it, so that he could remain in place at the school. Once the snake was out of the picture, Voldemort would be as mortal as any other wizard.

However, the Dark Lord missed nothing. Even in his state of arousal, there was something making him suspicious.

"Leave me! You are to return yourself and Mudblood to Hogwarts. The next time I summon her before me, I wish to see how you have progressed in turning her talents towards the Dark. She has entertained me tonight, and has bought herself more time with her willing acquiescence. At our next meeting, I expect her to be ready to join us."

"I understand, My Lord. I shall leave you."

He stood, leaving his trousers open since he had not been instructed otherwise, taking a rough hold of Granger's arm in order to Apparate them back to the castle.

"The Mudblood may bid me good evening," Voldemort hissed, holding out a pale hand.

"Go forward and kneel, and consider yourself fortunate that you have been gifted the compliment of kissing the Dark Lord's hand," Severus commanded her, giving her a push in that direction and advising her exactly what she was expected to do.

Granger walked over to his chair and knelt by his proffered hand, taking a distasteful hold of it and dropping her lips to the white, scaly flesh. Quick as a flash, Voldemort pulled his hand from hers and grabbed her chin, forcing it upwards, and stroking her face with his revoltingly long fingernails.

"You appear to be an obliging Mudblood, girl. Clearly you are not stupid, you understand and respect the authority of your superiors. I look forward to seeing … even more of you. You have done well, Severus. Now take her and go forth to your own evening of entertainment."

Not allowing for any more pauses, Snape grabbed her arm and twisted into a jerky Apparition, desperate to get them both out of this hideous place. They landed inside his office, by the window, looking out on the castle grounds, which were lit a dark orange by the slowly setting sun.

Hermione breathed hard, forcing air into her lungs where she had been holding her breath before Voldemort, desperately trying not to say anything wrong, or get them into any worse trouble. She had been so humiliated at being exposed in that manner, but really, did it matter in the grand scheme of things? She hadn't been tortured, she hadn't even been hurt. The evening had been about degradation and control, seeing how far she could be pushed before breaking.

A long way, you evil snake, she thought. Just try me.

Professor Snape was standing beside her, breathing just as heavily, suffering the indignity of having his penis hanging out of his trousers. Clearly, she wasn't the only one who had been humiliated tonight, and he must still be suffering with the compulsion, since he had stopped her from sucking him before he had reached his own orgasm.

She turned towards him, and extended a tentative hand towards his erection, stroking the soft skin over the semi-hard core, feeling it lurch into her hand with desperation. He grabbed her hand instantly and covered it, although he did not remove it.

"No. You do not have to do this."

"I do. The compulsion demands it."

"Not after everything you have suffered tonight."

"Your suffering was equal to mine," she replied, beginning to slide her hand up and down his shaft that was hardening beneath her fingers, despite his protestations.

"Granger," he warned. "If you do not desist your actions, I must warn you that I am not in the mood to be gentle. It is taking all of my control not to spin you around and fuck you up against this window."

She looked up at him, trying to convey as much honesty and acceptance as she could with her eyes, knowing that words were not always the best way to get through to the headmaster.

"I mean it," he said, quietly.

Turning around, she knelt on the padded window seat, leaning her elbows and forearms on the stone window ledge, looking out at the beautiful grounds, backlit by the sunset.

"For fuck's sake, Granger."

Snape let out a loud groan of resolution, and she felt him flip her skirt up over her bare bottom and tuck it into the waistband, the same way he had when he'd spanked her. He gripped her arse cheeks with both hands, spreading them open and stroking over her open pussy with what must be his thumbs. He was dappling in her wetness which was still leaking from her orgasm at his hands only a short while previously, and he groaned again, even louder, when he discovered how sopping wet and ready for him she was.

Hermione felt the bump of his hand against her as he guided his penis to her entrance and then the hard clench on either side of her hips as he pushed all the way inside, causing her to release her own moan of pleasure.

"You are too much, little witch, do you hear me?" he growled, starting to pump into her in a fast, desperate rhythm. "You stand before the Dark Lord without fear, then present your deliciously wet cunt for me to fuck? You are a succubus, a temptation, and you are too bloody much, too good for the likes of me."

His words, as they always did, stoked her arousal higher, hearing the filthy ramblings drip from his usually so severe, taciturn controlled mouth – that same voice that had lectured her in the classroom for years now spilling such secrets of his sexual desire, and it made her stomach turn over in the most delicious way.

Snape's large hands were gripping her hips so tightly that she would certainly be left with bruises there, not that she cared. Her knees were comfortable on the soft cushion of the window seat, the stone window ledge providing enough resistance for him to thrust against, and thrust he did, huffing and puffing and exclaiming as he fucked her most thoroughly.

Hermione felt one of his hands slide across to the base of her spine, right on her coccyx, and push down, which tilted her channel upwards and allowed the angle of his thrusting to change. He pushed a fingertip into her back passage and agitated it around, and she felt herself begin to climax, much to her own surprise, but it was as if he were learning to read her body like one of the many textbooks he appeared to know off by heart.

"Fuck, Granger, are you coming?" he gasped, bashing his hips against her bum as his penis ground roughly inside her. "I can't … when you come around my cock … I just can't hold …"

His roar of release was louder than she'd ever heard, and she felt the jets of warm come bathe her insides, and he continued to growl and groan as if in physical or emotional pain.

The heavy door of the headmaster's office burst open, she heard it crash against the wall with a dull, wooden thud, and then the entrance of several pairs of booted feet.

"How dare you enter this office without knocking?" Snape demanded, his voice remarkably smooth and dripping with angry threat, rather than shouting. It had always been a chillingly effective tactic in the classroom.

"You're finished, aren't you?" came a mocking voice that she recognised to be the odious Walden Macnair.

"What did we interrupt, your post-coital cuddling time?"

That was a female voice – Alecto Carrow. Bitch.

Snape drew out of her so quickly that she felt empty, and their combined juices slid down her thighs.

"Get up, girl," he instructed, roughly.

Hermione stood up, untucking the back of her skirt from the waistband and turning around, to see that Snape had remained standing behind her to avoid the intruding Death Eaters from getting any view of her open genitals.

"Get out. I am finished with you for the evening."

It was only acting, she told herself. He would never treat her like this, otherwise. However, it was no less humiliating to do the walk of shame across his large, echoing office, through the crowd of jeering Death Eaters who had all just seen what they believed to be her being raped, up against the window seat. She dropped her head and looked at the floor, although every part of her wanted to hold her head high, to show that she was not ashamed.

"Dirty slut."

"Headmaster's pet cunt."

"Mudblood filth."

The insults were hissed at her as she passed through the throng at the door. Thankfully, as Professor Snape was there, none of them would risk laying a hand on her. She edged past, trying not to touch any of them inadvertently, and then broke into a run as she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase.

She needed to get back to Gryffindor Tower, and to a hot shower, both for the mess caused by their activities, and for the burning humiliation in her head that needed to be washed away.

It wasn't until she was in the shower that Hermione remembered they hadn't even managed to kill that damn snake.

-xxx-

They had slipped into a blissfully domestic routine over the last fortnight, mostly unspoken, it had simply evolved into a daily life that they both seemed content with. And content was a welcome relief after the months of torment they had experienced.

Her boyfriend had indeed been able to Confund the owner of the tattoo parlour into taking him on as an apprentice, using his scribbled drawings as his portfolio and admitting he had never tattooed before. The large, bearded man – Dave – was teaching Draco his craft, as well as getting him to produce new sketches and designs for the folders of ideas they kept in the shop.

Draco drew inspiration from the wizarding world, and already his magical designs were proving popular, especially the dragons and family crests. Of course, Muggles would not know what they represented, or that they were in fact real.

Orla started work earlier than Draco, since the tattoo parlour opened and closed later than the pharmacy, which kept regular hours. She would leave him sleeping, especially if he'd been working a late night, and then later in the morning, usually around eleven, he would stop off at the pharmacy with a takeaway coffee or tea for her, dropping it in with a kiss before making his way to the tattoo parlour two streets away.

Brenda was quite bowled over with the charm of Orla's 'young man', and never missed an opportunity to tell her how lucky she was. Orla would smile to herself, thinking of how much the older woman did not know.

When the pharmacy closed at five, Orla would nip upstairs and make a sandwich in the flat before heading back down again to take it across to Draco, who would usually be taking a late lunch at about that time. The early evening was her own, and she'd shower and change, depending on whether he would be home late, or if he finished early they would often go to the pub, or out for dinner.

With both their wages, the rent on the meagre flat was much more manageable, and rather than upgrade to a bigger one, they decided to stay put and use their spare money to enjoy a social life outside. The studio flat had everything they needed, since they shared everything, so why waste their hard-earned money?

They were now regulars in the pub across the road, although Draco was still teased by the older men regarding his low tolerance for Muggle alcohol. Their favourite restaurant was the Chinese where they'd had their first 'date', swiftly followed by the Italian and the Indian.

"Does no one eat English food in England?" he had asked, bemused, and she'd laughed, promising to take him for a slap-up full roast dinner at the local carvery on Sunday.

Evenings and nights had turned into their own personal voyage of discovery as their relationship had progressed from kissing to so much more. To her own astonishment, Draco Malfoy had proved to be a patient and caring lover, who took time with her emotionally and physically, and it had actually been her who'd pushed for a little more each time.

Often, when he came home from work in the evening, she'd join him in the shower, enjoying the water rivulets running down his brightly-coloured tattooed dragon, to which he had added, further up his arm, using no cursed ink this time. He had almost a full sleeve now, and it looked amazing – a true work of art; fresh and new on his pale skin.

Not a night had gone by where they had not made tender love in bed before falling asleep wrapped around each other. In the morning she would look at him, his blond eyelashes skimming his cheeks and a tousled white-blonde lock of hair falling over his forehead, and would smile. It had been an awfully long time since she had smiled.

Orla would dare to say she was happy, content in this neat little life with this scared Slytherin who she'd known for seven years, yet not really known at all.

-xxx-

As June turned into July, Hogwarts castle became a hive of activity as students were sitting their OWL and NEWT examinations, despite the country and wider wizarding world being in uproar. Hermione was at a distinct disadvantage in her exams, having missed most of the school year on the run with Potter and Weasley, and the time she had spent back at school had been severely curtailed by the demands of the compulsion curse, her work for the Order, and the ever-present threat of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Yet Severus had no doubt that Granger would pass her NEWTs with excellent scores. He had last taught her in sixth year; her knowledge and capability were already far beyond that of her peers, and all reports from her current subject teachers suggested that she was on course for a crop of good passes. He wondered how exceptional she could have been, had she been in school for the entire year – her results could have been legendary.

She would dutifully visit him in his office every night, arriving through the Floo from her dormitory, where he had left the connection permanently open for her. By unspoken agreement, he had not visited her dormitory again, not since the time where he had bared his emotions to her, and they had made such exquisite love in her tiny student bed.

Granger had advised him that every spare moment she had was spent studying, and he had no doubt that this was true. She avoided the library, apart from to borrow or return books, preferring to study alone in her room. He suspected it was only there that she felt safe from the malevolent witches and wizards who stalked the castle.

But still, she had not neglected her promise to hold the symptoms of the compulsion curse at bay for them both, and regularly nightly intercourse meant that there was no risk of either of them being unexpectedly compelled at inconvenient moments. There was little point in waiting for the compulsion to strike, they had agreed, it was best just to do it and continue their days as usual.

His Floo would glow green, indicating her imminent arrival in his office, and his cock would lurch in his pants. He would cast a secure ward upon the door, not wanting to risk an interruption such as the one they had suffered the night they'd returned from Voldemort, and sit back in his chair to receive her, for he would usually be working at his desk when she arrived.

There was no need for foreplay, since he would always be ready for her, his double-strength compulsion ruling every move his prick made. He would unzip his trousers and Granger would climb into his lap, always bare underneath her skirt, for she had given up wearing knickers on these visits in order to make them as short and as practical as possible.

As she straddled him, he would guide his cock inside her, and she would slide down it, allowing his erection to open her tight walls. Sometimes he would play with her clitoris if she needed it, enjoying the feel of her hopping around in his lap as she climaxed. Other times she would already be compelled, and once seated on his cock she would cup his face and kiss him, searching kisses that urged him to open his mouth and surrender his tongue, and she would swirl her own around it, allowing him to thrust into her mouth as surely as he was thrusting from beneath her.

Afterwards, she would remove herself from his lap, rearrange her skirt, and leave the office via the Floo. Sometimes no words would be spoken, for they did not need to be. She would leave him satiated, his cock red and exhausted, his hands twitching for one more touch of the naked, peachy-soft skin of her arse.

The night of the final NEWT exam would usually lead to an evening of merriment within the castle, but not so under the new regime. It was a day and night as any other, and the students would soon be leaving to spend the summer at home with their families. For Severus, the holidays could not come soon enough. This had been the year from hell, and he had no idea how he would cope with another, and another after that.

He stood on the dais in the darkened Great Hall, in front of the teachers' table, right in the centre where he would normally stand behind the lectern to address the students. He wore only his white shirt and black trousers, for no coat or robe was necessary. It was midnight, and the castle was still. The ghosts were rarely seen nowadays, keeping out of the way of the Death Eaters, and there were no portraits any more, the only ones that had been saved were the ones from his office that he had secreted in the dungeon.

One of the doors to the Great Hall creaked open, and she walked in. He had deputised a house-elf to fetch her, and to bring her directly here. Granger must have been in bed, for she was barefoot and wearing a dressing gown, her hair flowing loose. There was just enough light from the starry sky that he had conjured on the high ceiling for her to see him, and he beckoned to her, wordlessly.

She closed the door behind her, and he shot a ward at it, which he knew she would hear. He followed her movements with his eyes as she walked up the central aisle towards him, her bare feet making no noise on the stone floor. When she approached the raised platform, she paused, and he extended a hand to escort her up the two small steps so that she stood next to him, and looked up, expectantly.

"You have completed your final exam today."

It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded.

"I did. Transfiguration."

"I know not what will happen after this, Miss Granger. I do not believe that the Dark Lord will allow you to return home as the other students will do, next week. I suggest that we covertly remove you to Grimmauld Place, tomorrow, where you will remain and cannot be touched, due to the Fidelius charm that is currently protecting the Lupins. I will intimate to the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters that I believe you to have absconded from the castle in the same way as Mr Malfoy and Miss Roach, and request that the Dark Lord lifts the compulsion curse. If he does not agree, I can of course visit you at Grimmauld Place to ensure our continued … comfort, however that leaves me under suspicion as to why I am not suffering curse-related symptoms."

"I understand. Yes, I will go to Grimmauld tomorrow, if it won't get you in trouble that I am gone?"

"It will be fine."

She looked around the dark, empty Great Hall, and shivered.

"So, um, why did you need me to come here?"

He caught her eyes with his own, and took hold of her hands. He was about to do something incredibly presumptuous.

"This will be your last night that you spend in the castle. If you would permit me, I should like to make it … memorable."

Her face was so trusting, so accepting, that he felt a pang of guilt at attempting to indulge him own desires.

"You do not have to …" he added.

"I want to," she replied, firmly, interrupting him, and slipping a hand boldly to his neck, nudging his face towards hers.

As if such a sublime witch would ever seek him out to kiss in such a manner under normal circumstances, but he was inherently Slytherin and was not about to waste the opportunity presented. Severus allowed her to pull his head down and bumped his lips against hers, teasingly pulling back as she opened her mouth to receive him.

"Oh, please, Severus," she whispered, not knowing the effect those three simple words would have on him, especially the use of his given name.

The thought that she would have to ask him to kiss her was unfathomable, but yet, here they were, and he would not deny her. He returned his lips to her soft mouth and began to move them, swiping her own and pushing his tongue between them to tussle with hers, probing the deepest corners of her mouth, trying to kiss her so thoroughly that it would leave her gasping.

It did.

Whilst Granger was catching her breath, he swept her up and laid her out on the head table, which he had already softened with a cushioning charm. She looked like the most glorious dinner, being served up for his pleasure and delectation. He watched her eyes look at the conjured ceiling, enjoying its spectacular beauty, and slid his hand up her bare leg, under her dressing gown, to his surprise finding that she was naked underneath.

She flicked her eyes to his, and he raised a questioning eyebrow at her, asking for answers.

"When you summoned me at midnight, I presumed that I might not need any other clothes," she shrugged, a cheeky expression upon her face.

Severus wanted to ask the silly girl what she would have done if he'd been summoning her because he'd been ordered to take her before Voldemort, but opted not to break the sensual intensity since she had been entirely correct in her assumption, and he was more than pleased to find his witch naked under her dressing robe.

Not your witch, he quickly corrected himself.

Pulling the cord of her robe like he was untying the string of an especially well-wrapped gift, he allowed it to fall to her sides, exposing her beautiful body fully to his gaze, and he could not help but dive in straight away like a starving man, not a wizard who'd had sex with this girl every night in his office chair for the last two weeks.

His black hair spilled on her chest as he dropped his mouth to her breast, suddenly desperate to take the nipple into his mouth and suckle. It felt soft and pliant under his lips, and he used his tongue to tease her nipple into a hard, erect point. He swept his other hand up and down her smooth body, touching everything he could reach, from her other breast, her soft stomach, under the rounded curve of her spine, over her hips, and delving between her legs, which she opened for him as soon as his hand moved lower.

With his mouth still attached to her tit, he pushed two fingers inside her, feeling her hips tilt upwards to meet him. Raising his head slightly, he could see her looking at the magical ceiling whilst undulating under his mouth and hands. Good. That was what he wanted – to give her an experience she would not forget, even if it was with him. He doubted she'd forget being fucked on the top table of the Great Hall, and he was determined to make it blissful for her, if he possibly could. He knew how much she loved this castle, whatever else had happened.

He moved his mouth to her other breast, whilst concentrating his attentions on her clitoris, withdrawing his fingers from inside her and tweaking the little bud out from its concealing hood, starting a slow twist on her most private, most sensitive spot, that soon had her panting, her legs opening wider, and her hips writhing in arousal.

Wanting more of her, he travelled his mouth down her breast and ran his tongue along the underside of both as he sped up the masturbation on her clit, before kissing her abdomen with hard, open-mouthed movements, trailing his tongue around her belly-button. He felt her stomach contract under his mouth as she jerked in orgasm; since he was now pulling at her clitoris she did not have much choice but to spend.

"Oh, good girl," he murmured against her soft skin. "You came beautifully. Now, how about a second time?"

Severus climbed up onto the long table and knelt between her legs, holding them apart so he could look at the lush pinkness that was wet with the orgasm he had just wrought from her. He dropped his raven head to her cunt, fixing her labia open with his thumbs as he flickered his tongue everywhere, lapping up the sweet taste of her juices. It had been such a long time since he had last had his face in her pussy! His erection was threatening to burst the zip of his trousers, he was so bloody hard.

"I can't," she panted, trying to wriggle away from him.

"You can," he muttered, slurping against her. "You can, and I want you to."

She made a noise of aroused frustration.

"Come, Hermione," he crooned. "Feel my tongue on your hard little clit. It has much more to give me. It wants this, believe me."

"Ohhhh …"

He smirked against her wet cunt and reapplied himself to the task in earnest, lashing against her over-aroused clitoris and sucking it into his mouth, nudging her towards the edge again. Fixing his mouth over as much of her as he could, he made a final, frenzied push, and as she released, her thighs trembling, copious amounts of juice squirted from her and trickled down his chin.

Oh fuck, yes. This little peach had just come, gushing in his face and he fucking loved it. He knelt up, roughly opening the buttons and zip on his trousers, and liberating his cock which was purple with need, ignoring the fact that this girl was most definitely not his witch, he was not compelled, so he was basically just fucking a student over the top table in the Great Hall. He ignored all of this, chasing only his own desire, and her pleasure. He leaned over her and pushed inside, before guilt could get the better of him.

Hermione looked at the starry sky of the enchanted ceiling, framing the dark head of Professor Snape as he loomed above her, having crammed himself deeply inside and was doing that slow thrusting he had done weeks before, in her dormitory, that felt as if he were trying to take her apart from the inside out.

She'd never had a proper boyfriend, and if they got out of this situation alive, she wasn't sure she ever wanted one. Right at this exact moment, whilst being made love to by an adult man, what she wanted was an intelligent, darkly but-not-conventionally attractive wizard, with the experience of age and the ability to make her feel safe, no matter how bleak the circumstance.

His shoulders began to move as he fucked her with his whole body, driving them both higher. His long hair hung forward, almost tickling her nose where he was so close to her. He never closed his eyes – he always watched her, as if gauging her reactions, ascertaining her pleasure. She loved his eyes. They were so terrifying, fathomless and yet passionate all at the same time. If only he knew what she was thinking. He'd probably be horrified.

Her reverie was cut off by Snape beginning to circle his hips as he thrust, reaching her sweet spot deep inside with every pass. Holy fuck, it felt good. She slipped her hands up to clasp his shoulders, as she'd learned that he seemed to like something to push against, and she dug her fingertips into his hard muscles, feeling them ripple under his skin with his efforts.

"Hold me … Hermione, please," he gasped, as his pace increased, and his skin became slickened with sweat.

Anyone who happened to enter the Great Hall in the dead of night that evening, would have witnessed the curious sight of the headmaster atop a seventh-year student on the teachers' table at the head of the hall, illuminated only by the starry ceiling and the moonlight from the huge window behind them. The uninvited visitor would have seen the professor's shoulders stoop with the effort of his thrusting, and the young witch with her arms and legs wrapped around him, to all intents and purposes making love to one another with enough passion to light every fire in the castle.

-xxx-

Severus decided to walk Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower himself, a moment of sentimentality for her final night here overriding all good sense. He even held her bloody hand as they wandered slowly through the familiar corridors, vast hallways and winding staircases. The castle looked so different now, with all the semi-sentient portraits destroyed, but the bare bones of the old building were still as much as they ever were.

Their peaceful walk was disturbed by the ferocious burn of the Dark Mark against the skin on his left forearm. The pain was so severe that it actually caused him to shout in shock, grasping his arm in a futile attempt to make it stop. Within seconds, the corridors were filled by Death Eaters, throwing on their robes over their nightwear and running full-pelt towards the front door to get to the Apparition point outside the main gates.

"Snape!" shouted Carrow, running past them. "Don't just stand there! It's an urgent summons!"

Severus Apparated to his office to collect his Death Eater robes, taking Granger with him since he was not about to leave her to the mercy of his 'brothers' rampaging through the corridors, out of bed after curfew and dressed in nothing but a robe. He instructed her to go back through the Floo to her dormitory, and stalked into his bedchamber at great speed to collect the hated clothing.

When he returned to the office, he found her still there, holding out a scrap of parchment to him.

"This had come through the Floo, it was on the hearth. I saw it when I was about to throw the powder in."

Severus

Ensure you bring the Mudblood with you tonight.

How long ago had this note arrived in his office? How long had it been sitting there, impotent on the hearth whilst they had been wasting precious time shagging in the Great Hall, when he could have been securing her safe retreat to Grimmauld Place?

Whilst his mind was whirring, he felt her small hand slip into his.

"Sir? We to have to go."

Not a trace of fear on her face, only resolution and determination.

My brave witch, he thought, as he bade her to hold onto his arm as he touched the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark.

They landed in what looked like an underfloor room, covered in stone from floor to ceiling, and cold, very cold. Other Death Eaters were arriving, not only those from schools, but everyone, summoned from their various stations to be here. What was amiss? Why did they all need to be called here in the dead of night, and most importantly, why had he needed to bring Granger with him? He had the very worst feeling, and began mentally cataloguing how he could Apparate the girl out of here – blowing his cover if need be, to save her life.

The Death Eaters formed a semi-circle in front of the raised platform on which Voldemort sat, Nagini curled around his feet, not in her golden sphere. This room must be where she lived, it seemed suitable for a snake, if not a little cold.

Whatever he had presumed about this meeting, whatever he might have prepared himself for, it certainly wasn't for the sight of Draco Malfoy and Orla Roach materialising in the centre of the room, as Voldemort waved his wand over them to remove the Disillusionment charm that he held them under, revealing them only once all the followers had assembled.

Lucius Malfoy and Corban Yaxley exclaimed, and made to rush forwards, but were held back by other Death Eaters either side of them.

"Patience, patience," crooned Voldemort, in an oily tone. "We have much to question these young people about before you get a chance to punish your son, Lucius, and you your Mudblood, Corban."

Severus' mind had gone into free-fall, desperately trying to piece together what was happening, what was likely to happen next, and the terrifying thought that he now had three students in the room to protect, whilst not breaking his cover and not getting killed himself.

Fuck.