Hello Lovelies. It has been a week, let me tell you. I have not been feeling my best and have been touched by a sense of inadequacy which has made doing more than keeping myself and my children alive a bit difficult. My drive has disappeared, my muchness has gone. I'm working hard to get it back and am hoping that these next two weeks visiting family will give me a chance to recharge and refocus so that when I return in April I'll be able to write and work on other pursuits without the crippling guilt and inadequacy that tell me I am anything other than the stellar human being I know I can be.

Now that the Dear Diary portion of the evening has come to a close, please know that I appreciate all of your reviews, all of your follows, and all of your favorites. They really can brighten a day and are like a drop of sunshine in my inbox when I'm feeling low. You can expect another chapter after this next Monday, followed by a short break during which I hope to be furiously writing.

One Thousand and One thanks to FaceofPoe who is not only a fabulous beta, but a thoughtful and kind friend.

Chapter Twenty-Six: In Power

August 1, 1997

They were both stubborn, that was the problem. When Hermione had arrived back in their suite the night the Death Eaters failed to capture Harry, Severus had been ignoring her, and her pride had not allowed her to speak first. They went to bed that night without speaking a word and had proceeded to ignore one another the next day. And the day after that. Eventually they had gone nearly five days without speaking for longer than it took to say 'Please pass the jam.'

Hermione occupied herself in the library for the most part. Voldemort had taken to coming in the evenings and engaging her in conversation. He spoke mainly of magical theory. His ideas on time turners and their potential were both intriguing and terrifying, and despite herself Hermione couldn't keep from giving her own opinions on time and whether it was malleable or concrete. Voldemort had seemed amused by her assertion that time was a closed loop, and that travel into the past would change nothing, but that the time traveler would find themselves a part of events as they were meant to unfold.

"One day I think we will test your theory," he had said to her. Hermione had shuddered at the promise, not sure whether the sensation was out of fear or excitement.

By the fifth day, Hermione was beginning to feel the effects of the bond. Having memorized the beauty charms of interest to her in the book Narcissa Malfoy had mentioned, Hermione next began a comprehensive study of the aspects of wizarding culture to which she had not been privy as a student at Hogwarts. There was a particularly fascinating book on social etiquette Hermione had begun to devour, marvelling at how positively archaic pureblood culture seemed… but as she sat on a chair in her sitting room staring down at its pages, she found that, while she was able to read individual words, she became lost in the text after only a few sentences, her thoughts wandering to her absent husband who she had not seen all day.

The sitting room door swept open and he appeared as if she had conjured him. He stood there for a moment in full Death Eater regalia, his hood up, his mask in his hand, and his black robes intimidatingly tidy.

Hermione forced her eyes back to the book in her lap as she bit her lip unconsciously. She would not find him attractive, not when he'd barely said two words to her since they had argued the week before. His words, however, had her gaze snapping back up to his, eyes widening in surprise and mouth falling open.

"The Ministry has fallen," he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him before crossing to their bedroom door and passing through it. He was in the other room before Hermione came to her senses and followed him.

"What happened?" she asked anxiously.

Severus shrugged where he stood in front of the wardrobe, unbuttoning his robes and hanging them within.

"We took it," he said, "Does the method really matter? The minister is dead, and the new one is a puppet."

"Harry and Ron? Did they manage to get out before the aurors went for them?" Hermione asked. Severus nodded stiffly.

"Dumbledore apparated them away. I'm sure they're hiding at Grimmauld place now."

"That's good." Severus didn't respond, only continued undressing and then began to put on a set of black dress robes.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"There's a celebratory dinner," said Severus. "You should dress and come down." Hermione made a face but didn't respond, crossing to her own wardrobe and opening it. Her options were vast and she eyed them for several minutes before finally pulling out a wine colored dress made of crushed velvet. It was by far one of the most modest dresses she owned, with long sleeves and a full skirt descending from the fitted waist. Even the neckline was not too low, descending from near the outside of her shoulders in a soft V but stopping just short of exposing the tops of her breasts. She donned the thing as Severus exited to the sitting room and then spent several minutes more in front of the vanity, using her wand to practice the spells she had learned which would apply her makeup and fix her hair independently. When she was done, she looked quite pretty, but reserved. She was satisfied.

When she found him, Severus was drinking what looked like firewhiskey from a small crystal tumbler.

"Let's go," he said, voice brusque as he slammed the glass down and came to grab her by the arm, guiding her towards the doorway.

"I can find my own way, thanks," she said acidly as she yanked herself out of his grip. Severus only sneered at her and stalked off, disappearing into the hallway in a huff. She followed him, rolling her eyes and tucking her wand up her sleeve as she went. The hall leading out of the west wing was empty, but when they reached the formal dining room and opened the door, a cacophony of noise exploded around them. No one was in the their seats. All of the inner circle was in attendance, along with several of the ministry officials Hermione recognized from the ball she had attended, and all of them seemed to be flushed with excitement and talking over one another loudly. When she and Severus entered, a few people paused and approached them, wide grins on their faces. Hermione stiffened in preparation.

"Snape!" A man Hermione recognized as Walden Macnair approached them alongside Yaxley and Rodolphus Lestrange. All three of the men carried drinks and were smiling wildly. Lestrange was still wearing his Death Eater robes, but the other two had changed into more formal outfits.

"Gentlemen," Severus nodded as the three stopped in front of them, giving slight bows to Hermione who, unsure of how to respond, merely nodded.

"You fought well today," said Yaxley, passing the full glass in his hand to Severus as he spoke. "I imagine the Dark Lord will give you Hogwarts after the display you put on."

Severus took the glass, shrugging and draining it quickly.

"I wouldn't be half so modest if it'd been me," said Macnair, sounding envious.

"Why would it have been you?" said Lestrange, scoffing, "You couldn't even kill a bleeding Hippogriff."

"Come now," said Severus, sounding reproachful. "From what I heard, he did manage to kill a pumpkin, so he is not completely without skill."

Yaxley and Lestrange burst into laughter, the former slapping Severus on the shoulder. If she hadn't been intimately familiar with his facial expressions, Hermione would have missed the momentary flash of distaste at being touched by the other man.

"I feel as though I've missed something," said Hermione, arching a brow and sending her most autocratic stare at the men surrounding her. Severus did not react, but his three compatriots all seemed to still and shrink where they stood, avoiding her gaze and clearing their throats. "Well?" said Hermione, addressing Severus now as she placed a hand on her hip.

"It would hardly be of interest to you," he dismissed. Hermione's eyes flashed.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"No, you won't," said Severus, and before she could respond he was walking away from her and towards the other end of the long, formal dining table where someone had laid out a great deal of alcohol.

"Well, that's nice," said Hermione, crossing her arms and glaring after her husband. She stared daggers at his back as he poured himself another drink before remembering that three of Lord Voldemort's most ardent supporters were still standing beside her. Sighing, she turned to face them.

"Did you want something else?" she asked crossly, "Or were your goals this evening merely to sow discord and be nuisances?"

"No, my lady," answered Yaxley quickly, eyes downcast. It was odd, she thought, how much she enjoyed the deference they seemed to pay her.

"Then be dears and go away," she said, waving a hand and watching out of the corner of her eye as they filed off.

Between parting ways with Severus and actually sitting down for dinner, Hermione was approached by three other groups of attendees. It was as if all of Voldemort's supporters had decided that night that it would be wise to begin including her in their social events and sucking up to the best of their abilities. Hermione had to wonder if they knew something she didn't.

When the Dark Lord arrived, the guests went quiet, watching him sweep to the head of the table and sit, motioning for everyone else to do the same. Hermione was seated on his left, and Severus on his right, and she sat awkwardly there as house elves in the kitchen below sent up their food magically, waiting for Voldemort to address her. She had learned in the days since she had arrived at the castle, that the Dark Lord always spoke first.

When he did speak, it was not to Hermione, but to Severus.

"You did well today, Severus," he said, his voice low enough that it did not disturb the dozens of people still speaking excitedly to one another up and down the sides of the dining table.

"I did only what you asked, my lord," Severus responded, lifting the full glass of elvish wine in front of him and drinking deep. Hermione furrowed her brows. That was his fourth drink since she had first seen him a mere half hour before. What did he think he was doing?

"But you did it with such style," said Voldemort, "I don't imagine the former minister's staff will soon forget the warning you left them."

Severus only inclined his head graciously and took another mouthful of his drink.

"Tell me daughter, what do you think of the display your husband put on at the Ministry?"

Hermione startled at being addressed and then shrugged. "I'm not sure what you're referring to, actually. No one's seen fit to let me in on the secret."

"Well we wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities," scoffed Severus from Voldemort's other side. "I know how distasteful you find my more barbarous talents."

"I'm sure in time she will see the necessity of our actions," dismissed Voldemort, turning back to face Hermione and giving her what she was sure he thought amounted to a smile. "You will not, at the very least, be disappointed in your husband's skill."

"What happened?" she found herself asking, not sure she really wanted to know, but aware that Voldemort wanted her to.

"Tell her, Severusss." His sibilant voice melded with a hiss from beneath the table and Hermione shivered, knowing that his pet snake Nagini must be lurking there.

"I disposed of Scrimgeour," said Severus, a hint of pride in his voice as his empty glass of wine refilled itself.

"Artfully," added Voldemort. "He flayed the corpse and left it bound to the ridiculous Fountain of Magical Brethren for all to see. When I told you to leave an impression, I did not expect you to be so very thorough."

"I live to serve." Severus raised his glass at the Dark Lord and then drank.

This then, was what had her husband drinking himself into a stupor. She should have known something more than their petty disagreement must be bothering him when he had taken the third drink. She had never seen him imbibe more than a glass or two of brandy at a time, and tonight he was on his fifth. She wondered whether Voldemort was more used to seeing Severus in his cups, if it was something he did when he was particularly disgusted with himself.

"Is that all?" Hermione heard herself say after a long pause. "I had thought perhaps he'd set the ministry archives on fire. I think I might have been more concerned then. I was never very fond of Scrimgeour."

Voldemort laughed at this and Severus shot her a surprised look. Had he expected her to react as she had when he killed Avery? Perhaps he was right to expect it from her, but Hermione liked to think she was a quick study, and she rarely made the same mistake twice. She knew Severus Snape, and the things he did he did not out of enjoyment, but out of necessity.

"You are a delight," said Voldemort as his laughter subsided. "Though I must confess, I had expected you to be more concerned over the fall of the Ministry than-" Hermione interrupted him before he could finish, ignoring the way his eyes flashed red as she waved a hand dismissively.

"Please, it's not as if you actually managed to capture anyone I care about. The Ministry is the least of my concerns. As far as I'm concerned, it hasn't been effective in several decades." Truth with lies, she thought, focusing on her feelings of disdain for Fudge's Ministry and chancing a glance up at the Dark Lord. His gaze caught hers and he was in her mind in an instant. He waded through her emotions and memories as she supplied them, letting him see her relief that Harry and Ron had eluded capture, her frustration at the Ministry and at the way she had been treated as a muggleborn at Hogwarts… even a spark of anger at her mother for lying to her for all those years. Last of all, she showed him her thoughts of Severus, her admiration, her trust… the deep feeling she had yet to name but which welled inside of her like a spring.

Voldemort withdrew, seemingly satisfied, and Hermione was surprised at how simple a thing it was to deceive the darkest wizard of all time. One had only to admit their flaws and Lord Voldemort would interpret them as he saw fit. Occlumency showed only bits of truth, and Hermione realized how inexact a magic it really was. If Voldemort was less arrogant, he would have done better to use Veritaserum, but his confidence in his own skill was unfailing.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Voldemort exchanged pleasantries with his giddy followers, rewarding people for their service with positions of power in the Ministry. Severus was made Headmaster of Hogwarts and soundly congratulated by his fellows. Hermione, though she had not participated in the day's activities, was promised a position at St. Mungo's as a Healer in Training when her apprenticeship was finished, where she would rise quickly through the ranks and become the youngest head in history. Severus drank more than Hermione thought possible and when the meal was over begged to be excused, a request Voldemort granted indulgently. A few minutes later, Hermione took her leave as well. Voldemort let her go with a smirk and she rushed toward the west wing.

She found him with the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, standing in front of the fireplace with his head on the mantle.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed, shutting and warding the door behind her before making her way across the room to where Severus stood.

"I've never known your eyesight to be poor," he said, taking a swig of firewhiskey and setting the bottle down in front of him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Being a belligerent drunk," snapped Hermione, using her wand the banish the firewhiskey back to the drinks cupboard.

"Well, when you're being an unbearable shrew, I think I'll do whatever the fuck I please," said Severus, still staring into the fire. Hermione rolled her eyes and conjured a glass, filling it with water and setting it on the mantle beside him as she summoned a vil of sober-up potion.

"Drink this," she said, tipping the potion into the glass and offering it to him.

"No thank you," he said, not bothering to open his eyes. "I worked hard to get this pissed, I'm not going to have you fuck it all up now."

"Merlin's beard, Severus. Are you always this stubborn or is it something I bring out in you?"

"Go away," he said by way of answer, "I'm not interested in arguing with you tonight."

"Who said anything about arguing?" Severus met her eye and the look of disbelief on his face nearly caused her to laugh. "Am I so predictable?"

"I could recite the entire conversation to you. I've a particular sense of clairvoyance where your sensitivities are concerned."

"Really," said Hermione dryly. "Let's hear it then." She moved to sit on the sofa behind him, admiring the smooth line of his shoulders and the gentle curve of his rear beneath his robes. She didn't know whether it was the bond or her own natural attraction to the man who was her lover, but she thought shagging him might be a great deal more fun than arguing with him tonight, even if he was a stubborn son of a-

"You'll tell me I'm an idiot for drinking around the Dark Lord," he began, turning to face her and using the mantle behind him for support, "And you'll accuse me of enjoying what I did to Scrimgeour. You'll act as if your shit doesn't smell and tell me I'm some sort of letch… and then we'll probably fuck, because all I can think about right now is your tits, and your pussy, and how bloody delicious it feels when I'm inside of it."

Hermione blushed bright red, responding despite herself to Severus's coarse language and swallowing as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"You've got a foul mouth when you're drunk, Severus. And besides, I'm not even sure you could manage to perform, the state you're in."

His eyes flashed and he pushed off of the fireplace behind him, advancing slowly but steadily, his eyes predatory as he grew closer. The flush on Hermione's cheeks seemed to extend rapidly until her whole body was on fire and Severus had reached her, leaning down to hover over her, his arms trapping her on either side.

"Say no," he ordered through gritted teeth, his dark eyes smouldering into hers as her breath quickened and she shook her head no. God, how she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her. She had been burning for this since the last time, and she didn't care about their stupid, petty argument now, or the fact that he had murdered a man hours before.

Instead, she kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck and drawing him close enough that she could devour his mouth with hers, drawing his lower lip between her teeth and biting just hard enough to get a reaction out of him. And he did react. He deepened their kiss, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up until they were both standing and her chest was crushed against his.

"Perfect," he breathed, breaking their kiss and palming one breast as he stumbled backward, his back hitting the wall beside the fireplace as Hermione followed him, moaning against the skin of his throat. She could feel his stiff arousal pressing against her abdomen, proof that he was indeed capable of doing what they both desired, despite his inebriated state. Still…

"Drink," she said, her hand outstretched towards the glass she had set on the mantle. It sped to her, the wandless magic she had manifested easier than it had ever been before. She held the glass to his lips and locked her eyes on his, seeing the very moment he decided to comply and began to drink the water and potion. He drained the thing in record time and took the glass from her, tossing it into the fireplace and pulling her body against his with renewed vigor as he spun them so that it was Hermione trapped between his lanky form and the hard wall.

They did not speak after that, only touched one another. His hands roved over her body, ripping the modest neckline of her gown to leave her brassiere exposed and then pushing even that down so that her breasts were left obscenely bare to his gaze, framed by the scraps of soft pink lace.

He laid open mouthed kisses over her nipples as she moaned and lifted her heavy skirt up, wrapping her legs around his hips so that she could feel his cock grinding against her through the fabric of her underwear. A muttered evanesco from Hermione vanished his heavy robes, leaving her hand free to work at his trousers until they were loosened enough for her to shove down over his ass. His hard length sprang free into her hand, velvet and fire combined as she stroked it and he groaned into her hair.

He was in her before she had a chance to do much else, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation. His hands found her hips and he began to move, his every stroke making her grunt, his fingers digging into her skin as he pounded her against the wall.

It did not take long for her to come, her orgasm taking her by surprise and shattering her as she cried out his name. Her sensitive folds pulsed around him as he continued, rocking in and out of her determinedly, his brow furrowed in concentration until at last he bit his lip and spilled inside of her, burying his face against her shoulder and biting the tender flesh where it met her neck, hard enough that she winced and and tensed until he loosened his grip.

Later, she could not remember how they had come to lay together in their bed, only that the sound his his heart beating against her ear was comforting, and that she was sure she would have bruises in the morning.

"Hermione," she heard him say her name softly, and though she was half asleep she managed to respond.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to kill him for you."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord."

"Oh. Thank you."

He chuckled and pulled her closer as she finally lost consciousness and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.