With thanks to the wonderful Amyeco for your help with this chapter when it was threatening to defeat me!

Chapter 28

Severus stared Voldemort hard in the eyes, trying to gauge whether the vile demon genuinely suspected him, or if he just wanted to remind his lowly servant who was in charge. Snape had no doubt that the Dark Lord would have set the wards to only allow him to Apparate away if he intended to seek Miss Granger, which meant that if he were not to expose their collaboration, he was effectively trapped here, unless Voldemort died and all his curses and wards expired with him.

What was to stop him, Severus thought, stop him casting an Avada Kedavra right here upon the wretched wizard? He was now fully mortal after the destruction of his final Horcrux, it would be almost too easy.

But he should wait, not act too hastily. For all he knew, there could be a legion of Death Eaters upstairs just laying in wait for them, ready to leap to the defence of their leader, or to rent retribution upon Severus should he assassinate him - in the form of permanent imprisonment in Azkaban, or worse, which would be of no help to Miss Granger or the other members of the Order. No, he must discover more about the situation in which he found himself before taking any action that would be contrary to what the Dark Lord expected.

Voldemort turned away from him in a swish of silken black robes and made for the staircase, with Severus following him, as if he were nothing but a meek pet, leaving the dead body of the huge snake on the cellar floor. His wand was securely held in his sleeve and he could have it in his hand in a trice, if needed. The stone steps gave way to an ornate staircase after one floor, and they ascended another level, entering a large, lavish parlour with a blazing fire in the grate and several armchairs and chaise longue set around the room.

Severus took a glass of wine unwillingly from the tray that was offered by a naked witch; either a paid whore or yet another Muggle-born, taken as a slave.

"Shall we sit, Severus?"

"I do not wish to sit, My Lord. It is the middle of the night, and I would be most grateful if you would allow me to return to Hogwarts. There is no need for you to test me, I remain as loyal to you as I always was."

"You are very nearly insolent, Severus," Voldemort replied, twirling his wand in his fingers, the wand that had been Dumbledore's; the words dripping threat as they rolled from his tongue. "Make yourself comfortable. It is likely to be a long day for you, but one where you will irrevocably prove your loyalty to me, and to my administration."

Severus remembered the days of torture he had suffered when Albus had ordered him to return to the Dark Lord's side after his attempt to kill Harry Potter during the final task of the Tri-Wizard tournament had gone so hideously wrong. He was so near death when he was finally deposited back at the castle gates that it had taken all the magical skill of Madam Pomfrey, Albus and Minerva to repair the threads of his shattered body and save his life. Was that experience not enough to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord?

He had murdered Dumbledore. On his instruction and under their agreement, of course, but Voldemort did not know that. Was that not sufficient to prove his loyalty?

Snape settled himself into a chair across the room, for it seemed they were indeed going through with this charade. Voldemort knowing that he would not leave, and Severus knowing that the Dark Lord would want to see how far towards death and insanity he could push him. He had just reached for a book on the side table when he felt a curse hit his body, and instantly felt the blood rush to his groin, making his dick swell at an alarming rate.

He looked up to see Voldemort lowering his wand, a gleam of evil delight in his red eyes.

"A little addition to your gift, Severus. I see no reason to prolong this experience unnecessarily."

"I shall not be leaving the premises, My Lord," he replied, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his tone steady. "As I advised you, I have no idea where the Mudblood has fled to. I can only throw myself upon your generosity and beseech you to remove the curse, since I have no way of satisfying its demands."

Severus picked up the book he had been reaching for, wondering how many hours there were until dawn, and how long this battle of wills would last, whilst trying to ignore the pulse in his trousers, and not think of her.

-xxx-

Hermione and Orla were in the Grimmauld Place kitchen, Orla happily holding baby Teddy cradled in her arms as Remus heated his bottle. The crack of elf Apparition surprised them all, apart from Remus.

"This is the time that the house-elf deputised from the Hogwarts kitchens brings my breakfast each morning," he explained, taking the tray from the earnest-looking creature with a few words of thanks.

Rather than cracking out again, the elf approached Hermione, taking a tiny package from its pocket and holding it out to her. She took it, and with a snap of the elf's fingers, it increased in size to that of a large suitcase, which she instantly dropped to the floor with the weight of it, narrowly avoiding the small elf's bare feet. It nodded, and cracked away without a word.

She bent down to the dropped case and heaved it on to the table top, unlatching it and exclaiming with delight as she saw what appeared to be all her own property from her dormitory at Hogwarts inside, with a note on the top, written in Professor McGonagall's familiar hand.

Hermione

As I have now been made Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts in Severus' absence, advised to me in the middle of the night by a most unwilling Walden Macnair, along with a brief summary of what happened to Draco Malfoy, and your actions. I can only presume that you have taken yourself and Miss Roach to your home, so I have taken the liberty of sending house-elves to collect all the belongings in your respective dormitories.

Please tell Remus that I will contact him by Floo this evening to discuss developments, once I have ensconced myself in Severus' office and made arrangements to cover my classes, and attempted to find out more as to what has happened to him.

Minerva

"She's sent our things!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing the lid of the suitcase open flat so that Orla could also see inside.

"Mine too?" Orla asked, standing up with the baby in the arms and walking around the table.

"Unless this Hufflepuff Quidditch jumper is mine, then yes," she smiled, passing her new friend the yellow, woollen garment to the Irish girl's obvious delight.

"Look, Teddy," Orla whispered to the oblivious baby, "this is Hufflepuff. It's the best house! Maybe you'll be a Hufflepuff when you get to Hogwarts!"

"Don't let Remus hear you say that," Hermione teased. "He'll want his son to be a red-blooded Gryffindor."

Remus turned towards them, bringing Teddy's bottle over to the table, a sad look upon his face.

"I'd be more than happy with either," he told both girls. "Teddy's mother was a Hufflepuff, and I could have never hoped for a braver, more capable witch. Would you like to feed him, Orla?"

"I'd love to," she replied, sitting down and taking the bottle, slipping it gently and surprisingly competently into the baby's waiting mouth.

Hermione continued pulling things from the suitcase, delighted to find all her books, and the purple beaded bag with the extension charm that had proved invaluable during their months on the run.

"Most of this is mine, Orla. Did you not have much at school?"

"I only came the night before, remember, responding to the radio summons for reinforcements? I had nothing apart from the clothes I stood up in. I cobbled together some uniform from the other Hufflepuff girls, including two that were killed during the battle."

"I understand that. I used all of Lavender Brown's old uniform."

"All of my stuff, clothes and shoes; everything, is at the Muggle flat that Draco and I were sharing. How can I get that back? I'm thinking it will be too dangerous for any of us to show our faces outside of this protective building?"

"You think correctly," replied Remus, sitting at the table and sending Hermione's things back into the suitcase, closing it, and banishing it upstairs. "We need to eat, and therefore need some table space," he told them, in way of explanation.

McGonagall must have instructed the elf to bring food for three, rather than the usual single portion, and Remus soon had the table spread with delicious Hogwarts breakfast food, and they tucked in, Orla quite happily taking bites of toast from Lupin's hand as she refused to let go of Teddy, whom she seemed quite happy feeding. Hermione watched them discreetly as she ate her own breakfast - it was the first time she'd seen a smile on either of their faces for a long time.

"I suggest our next move should be to contact Charlie," he said. "Fleur will be at work shortly, and I would not want to give her extra tasks anyway. Charlie has nothing to do at present, and I am sure he will be more than willing to return to your flat and collect your belongings, and tie up any loose ends you have there."

"Loose ends?" Orla asked him.

"You cannot return there, Orla. You will need to write notes of resignation to your employer, and return the keys to your flat. Was Draco employed?"

Her eyes returned to their former, saddened look and she nodded.

"He was. He had found a wonderful new career as a Muggle tattoo artist. You should have seen what he produced – his artwork was outstanding."

Remus nodded gravely in understanding.

"Then you will also need to instruct Charlie to contact his employer, also."

"I will. But who is this Charlie that you speak of?"

"Charlie Weasley," interjected Hermione. "He's the second oldest brother of the Weasley family. He was the only one who wasn't killed … you know, that day in the courtyard. Well, you saw what happened to them."

A single tear rolled down her cheek, never far away when she though of that awful day when Voldemort had destroyed everything she'd held dear in the world.

"Moving forwards, Hermione", Remus said, gently. "We cannot turn back time, as much as we would like to."

"I know. I know that," she sniffed, wiping away the sole tear and shoving a piece of toast in her mouth instead, washing it down with a swig of pumpkin juice.

-xxx-

Once breakfast had been cleared, and the containers washed and ready for the elf to take back when it delivered their evening meal, Remus took Teddy upstairs to get both himself and his son washed and ready for the day. In truth, the sight of the two young witches clad in nothing but his old t-shirts that barely covered their bottoms as they walked around the kitchen was rather distracting, he was only a mere wizard, after all, and he fervently hoped that each would find something in the suitcase that Minerva had sent to cover themselves before he found himself thought of as a disgusting old pervert.

Remus smiled to himself with a slight sadness as he thought of Sirius and James, who would have had far more to say about the presence of two scantily-clad girls in the Black kitchen. In their younger days they'd each have had one witch on their lap before the coffee had been poured, and he imagined them looking at him now, rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at their friend's pathetic lack of action.

Like he'd be interested. Hermione was like a daughter to him, and he thought with a shudder at the indisputable fact that she had been repeatedly sleeping with Snape. The other girl had just been through the most hellish experience in her life. Besides, nothing but thoughts of Tonks and his love for her had any business being in his head, he mused, looking at their tiny infant son kicking his little legs as he lay in the centre of the large bed.

Heading downstairs, Lupin could hear the girls wandering around, hopefully getting washed and dressed, and they now appeared to have moved into separate rooms, for the noises were coming from different places along the first-floor hallway, rather than the second-floor room that they had shared the night before. That made sense. They were both now here indefinitely, as was he, they might as well make themselves at home. In truth, he was pathetically grateful for their company, and realised this must have been how Sirius had felt, hiding in Grimmauld Place all alone, for all that time. No wonder he had craved adventure, but it was a crying shame his best friend had got himself killed for the simple want of an outing.

Once in the kitchen, he placed Teddy in the cradle he kept there, and stuck his head into the fire to call Charlie at Shell Cottage, through the Floo. As predicted, the remaining Weasley was at a loose end, and stepped through to the Grimmauld kitchen almost immediately, with that annoyingly cute dragon under his arm, coughing and spluttering as it exited the Floo. Really, Garth was lucky he hadn't grown any more – a dragon who hated fire and ash? As Charlie had said, he wouldn't have lasted a minute amongst his own kind.

Calling upstairs to summon Hermione and Orla to the kitchen, he returned to find Garth sitting sentry by Teddy's cradle, looking rather pleased with himself and his self-imposed responsibilities. He was also snaffling the leftover sausages from breakfast that Remus had planned to eat in a sandwich for lunch, but Remus found he couldn't complain, that tiny dragon had a way of getting away with all sorts of saucy behaviour.

Orla had spent time writing letters to her and Draco's employers, using a Muggle biro and a notepad that had arrived in the suitcase sent from Minerva. She'd also given Charlie precise directions to the street where the shops they'd worked at were located, told him exactly where her flat was, and given him the door key to return to the landlady.

They'd sat in awkward silence once Charlie had Apparated from the back garden, leaving Garth in their care, who had whined plaintively for five minutes after his master left the room, but had soon been placated by some fuss and attention from the girls, and the change to get up close with Teddy as Remus held him with his arms.

Lupin wasn't sure that being licked on the forehead by a tiny dragon was ever in his and Tonks' plans for experiences they'd wished their son to have, but Remus had to admit it gave him a certain amount of pleasure, especially when Teddy inadvertently turned his hair green to match Garth's scaly skin. No doubt he'd be morphing a pair of golden horns as he grew older and became more able to control his manifesting magic. At present, at little over eight weeks old, Teddy's hair colour seemed to be the only thing he could change, and it appeared to be fairly random, usually staying a firm shade of blue.

"That had better not be Ravenclaw blue," Tonks used to say, as the three of them cuddled up on the sofa together in those very early days. "Only Hufflepuff or Gryffindor for our boy, I'm certain of it."

Remus had agreed, like he agreed with most things that his wife said.

Hermione had taken herself off to the Black library, now her library, he reminded himself, leaving him alone with Orla in the kitchen, and the girl seemed equally enamoured with Teddy as with Garth. He found himself happy to have someone new to talk to, and tried his best to keep a conversation going.

Seeming to be a typical Puff, Orla had love for everything, and had asked him some exquisitely painful questions about Tonks, but surprisingly he'd found himself willing to answer, to expand and talk, to have someone just listen to him talk about his late wife. He shared how their relationship had taken a long time to start, all his own fault, he'd smiled, but once he'd accepted her feelings, it had been the most intense but beautiful relationship.

Remus had asked Orla about Draco, with no guilt, since she'd been so personal with her own questions, but she'd been non-committal, saying that she'd liked him very much, but their time together had been so short it was difficult to tell if it would have come to anything more. They'd been growing closer, but it had been cruelly curtailed. Given the revelation of her true parentage, that had surely been for the best.

"Do you think that Lucius Malfoy will now seek you out, to claim you as his daughter?"

"Bloody hell, Remus, I hope not. Gerard Roach was and always will be my father. I didn't look anything like him, but I just presumed I favoured my mother, whom I looked just like. The only good thing is that I can no longer be persecuted for being a Muggle-born, maybe that is the silver lining, and that it seems Yaxley may be punished for what he did to me. But a father-daughter relationship, when Draco and I had been sleeping together? No, I don't think so, plus there is his wife to consider."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste, as the back door clattered and Charlie Weasley entered the kitchen, two filled black rubbish sacks in his hands, and his curly ginger hair flying everywhere. He pushed the bags in her direction and held out his arms for the wing-flapping dragon that had leapt up at the sight of him and was lurching his way across the kitchen with his usual unsteady gait, towards him. Charlie picked Garth up and allowed the creature to lick his face in welcome before seating himself at the table.

"Did you have any problems?" Orla asked him, opening the tops of the bags and peeking inside.

"Not really. I spoke to that Brenda woman, returning your key and telling her I'd cleared the flat, but she was very suspicious, kept asking me to confirm you were alright."

"She cares about me."

"She really does. But I told her that you'd had to return home to Ireland unexpectedly and wouldn't be returning. I gave her your letter of resignation, and she sent you this – the rest of your wages."

"That was kind of her."

"There's not a lot you can do with it, as its Muggle money, but Fleur can change it up at Gringotts for you, I'm sure. The tattoo parlour was actually trickier. Draco's boss seemed really upset when I told him that Draco had been killed in a car accident. I swear he cried, and he sent this book of Malfoy's designs that he'd been working on, seemed to think you'd want them," Charlie told her, pulling a folder from inside his jacket.

Orla turned the pages slowly, gasping at the intricacy and beauty of the designs.

"They really are very good," Remus told her, peering over her shoulder.

"He was exceptionally talented," she replied. "I'm going to take everything upstairs, and just … take some time. Look though this book, I think. Is that ok, do you need me for anything?"

"It is fine, Orla," he replied. "Take all the time you need. We do not know how we are to proceed yet, until we hear from Severus or Minerva."

"Thank you, Charlie," he said, once Orla had left the room. "Having all her things will mean a great deal to her, hopefully make her feel more settled. It seems she has been through an awful lot, the last few weeks."

"It was no big deal," Charlie shrugged. "It's not as if I have anything else to do. During the day I do some housework, play with Garth, and make sure dinner is ready for Fleur when she gets home from the bank. When night falls, I try and get out on the beach if its deserted. I'm practising my Animagus form, and let's just say its not something that my sister-in-law wants in the house. She's made that quite clear already."

"What are you?" asked Remus, curiously, thinking of Padfoot and Prongs, and even Wormtail, and their exploits during their golden schooldays to become Animagi to support him during his forced transformations.

"What do you think I am?" Charlie asked, grinning merrily.

"You're a bloody dragon, aren't you?"

"Of course, I am! A great big one, that breathes real fire, which has taken me months to perfect, out in the sanctuary. I'm almost there, too, just trying to rid myself of the huge tuft of red hair that is still on my head once I've transformed. It just feels … incredible. I've been working on it for years. It took a whole year to learn to fly, once I'd transformed. Sweeping across the ocean by the light of the moon … I love it. It makes me feel free."

"I can understand that. My own transformations are rather less pleasant," he replied ruefully.

"It's nearly the full moon, isn't it, mate?"

"Very nearly. You and Fleur are still happy to take Teddy? I also think that Hermione and Orla should not be in the house. Just in case the cellar is not enough to secure me. It worked last month, but I was alone in the house. I am not aware of what I do when transformed, but I am concerned that I may pick up on their scents and attempt to free myself from the cellar."

"Understood. At the end of the week, yes? I'll come over and pick them all up. You'll send all Ted's stuff with him?"

"Of course. With written instructions for feeding."

"Got it. I'll be getting back now, time for this one's nap," he said, indicating Garth with a quirk of his red eyebrows.

Remus raised his eyebrows. This dragon took naps, like a baby?

"I'll be fine with Teddy, Lupin, you'll see."

He didn't doubt it.

-xxx-

Severus lay on the mattress in the cold cellar, for which he was now inordinately glad of since his body temperature was now so high. He had entertained some wildly optimistic thoughts of attacking Voldemort when he next returned to the cellar to gloat over his distress, but since the fucking bastard had taken his wand, he'd be only left with his wandless magic or his bare fists, neither of which were particularly strong since his body was currently overcome with intense sexual arousal, and he was fighting with every bit of his strength not to grab his cock and start wanking, because once he started that, the inability to come would signal his descent into agonised madness.

The Dark Lord had forced him down to the cellar with a brief but powerful Imperius curse as the compulsion had taken hold, and he had rolled on to the floor from the chair he'd been trying to stay seated in, complaining that Snape's moans of pleasure were causing him distress. He'd visited him twice since, coming no nearer than the top of the stairs.

Pleasure? Pleasure? If the deranged arsehole thought he was making noises of pleasure then he was as sick in the head as Severus had always presumed Tom Riddle to be.

He was distraught and pained, curled up in agony with unfulfilled curse symptoms. Visions of Granger were dancing through his head, unbidden, as much as he tried to ignore them, to force his mind elsewhere. This was as bad as the first night in his office, where he had rubbed his cock raw seeking completion, pain wracking his body, and desperation making breathing a struggle. And then what had happened? His personal Nimue had come through the panelled door from his private bedchamber and bestowed her full attentions on him, taking his cock from his own hand and replacing it with her own, wanking him to a blissful orgasm, despite her inexperience, despite his protestations to leave him.

And then. Then he had lain her across his desk and unknowingly delivered her first-ever climax with his sharp tongue, the memory of her soft, wet bumps and holes had felt under his tongue causing his cock to pulse, reminding him how he had let his mind slip once again. He wrenched open his trousers and pushed his undershorts down, freeing his swollen prick from its confines before it exploded under the pressure. He would not touch it, though. He would not.

-xxx-

Hermione had been in the Black library all day. She'd heard Remus and Orla coming and going around the house, but she just needed her solitude from the insanity of the last few weeks. By mutual agreement; she and Orla had agreed to choose a room each, since they were going to be here for some time, indefinitely even, so they might as well settle in and enjoy not being in a dormitory for once.

She had chosen the master bedroom on the first-floor, surprised that Remus had not already claimed it, but supposed since she was now the legal owner of this old house, she was entitled to it. The room was empty of all detritus except furniture since Molly Weasley's fevered bout of cleaning a few years ago, but she'd needed to use her wand to clear the layer of dust and mustiness that had encroached upon the room since then.

Finding bedlinens in a cupboard down the hall, she'd freshened them using a charm, and made up the large bed, and it was no coincidence that the imposing dark wood four-poster reminded her of Snape's bed in the headmasters' chambers. Now in possession of all her clothes and belongings, she decanted these into wardrobes and drawers, trying her best to imagine that she was settling into her new home.

Not hearing Charlie return with Orla's belongings, Hermione had remained in another world in the library, lost in an exquisite piece of wizarding fiction that she'd not had the pleasure of reading before. She'd brushed Lupin away when he'd come to fetch her for dinner, reporting that only an elf had arrived with the food as usual, no other visitors, and she'd told him she preferred to devour the book rather than a meal.

The compulsion came upon her long after she'd heard Orla and Remus head upstairs to their respective bedrooms for the night. It was so fast that she barely had time to note its approach before she began to feel the familiar wetness between her legs, her stomach lurch, and her genitals begin to pulse.

Shit.

Hermione left the library, taking the book with her, and headed upstairs, thinking that the bed in her private room would be the best place to deal with the embarrassment that the compulsion was likely to cause.

Snape had not been to Grimmauld Place today, nor had McGonagall been in touch. What was happening? He must be compelled by now, unless … unless he had persuaded Voldemort to lift the curse. But then there was the alternative – what if he was compelled but being prevented from seeking her out? McGonagall had said in her note that she'd been made Acting Headmistress. What did that mean? Was Snape still with Voldemort? He would know that she would have headed straight for Grimmauld Place, no doubt about that, so there must be something stopping him coming here. If they could not satisfy the curse … it would mean certain eventual death for them both, a slow painful descent into the insanity of unassuaged sexual need.

Hermione threw off her clothes and jumped into bed, pulling the heavy bedcovers around her, trying to block out the reality of what was happening. If she got to sleep quickly enough, maybe she could buy herself some more time – buy Snape some more time to get to her.

-xxx-

Severus was now naked on the old mattress, any clothing unbearable, writhing in sweet agony. His cock was painfully erect, weeping at the head, and red raw from where he had been unable to stop himself from masturbating. His forehead was laced with sweat, and his shoulders shook with cold and unfulfilled sexual desire – the compulsion was hard at work and doing its best to drive him to insanity.

He looked up at the wizard who held his life in his hands, standing halfway down the stairs, still apparently fearful of getting too near.

"My Lord, please," he croaked, having had nothing to eat or drink for well over twenty-four hours now, the second dawn of his incarceration just beginning, he had seen the grey light or morning as the cellar door had been opened and Voldemort had swept down the stairs towards him.

"Please?" mocked Voldemort. "Please what, Severus?"

"Please lift the curse, My Lord, I beg you."

"I do not need to lift the curse, Severus. You simply need to seek out your Mudblood to satisfy it. You are not a prisoner here. In fact, here is your wand. You may leave at any time."

He threw Severus' ebony wand to the floor beside the mattress with a clatter.

"I cannot, My Lord. I know not where she has gone. I know nothing of her actions."

"So, you tell me. But I cannot yet be certain. I shall return in due course. I have not yet seen enough proof of your loyalty."

He turned to leave.

"My Lord! Surely you cannot mean to let me die from this compulsion! I have so much still to do in my service of you."

"You speak the truth, Severus. I shall consider that."

The Dark Lord left the cellar without another word, leaving Severus groaning in pained frustration, thinking only of Miss Granger, and how he needed her touch more than he needed air. How long would it be before the girl's compulsion also hit her, and she was left in the same state?