Chapter Two

Severus wasn't sure what had possessed him to respond to her comment in such a way, but the moment the words had left his mouth, it painted a much too tempting image within his mind. The very idea of seeing the outspoken, stubborn witch submitting before him, lost in throes of passion, was enough to reawaken his cock from when he had touched her earlier. It would be a great feat to get her to let go, trust him, and submit to his command in the way he wanted and needed her to, but the challenge would only make the reward that much sweeter when it came.

Tracing his fingers over the silvery mark that was a mirror image to his own, had elicited a visceral response within him. However, he had been unprepared for the constant siren call that now hummed through his veins in her presence. It urged him to complete their soul bond, entrancing him so wholly with the desire that he had been out of his own control in those few moments back in the Ministry's atrium. Rational thought had ceased to exist, the innate need to claim her, to commit every facet of her to memory, and to have her magic weave and tangle with his own, a driving force that had kept him under the spell of her soul calling out to his own. Then she had responded to his touch so openly, offering him more of herself and he had eagerly accepted. Despite his logic, he had wanted to push the moment with her further before she could fully acquaint herself with the pull of their souls and have the time to learn to smother the feeling of her magic trying to tether with his own.

That was the crux of soulmates though. A mated pair who completed the connection were transcendent in their magic. Their bodies and minds became in sync with their mate, being able to feel and anticipate their partner's every mood, want, need, and desire. However, the urge to connect and bond, the need to solidify their soul markings, was a burden only one in the pairing would shoulder. The other being free to walk away, allowing the pull to fade over time before snapping completely.

The complete lack of control that came with being the dominant bearer in a soul pairing was why from the time his grandparents had explained what his birthmark really was, Severus had hoped he would be one of the many born without a mate. At thirty-eight years old, he had assumed that hope had come to fruition. Then there she was, a defiant queen walking with her head held high despite her filthy, shackled state, staring down the Dark Lord as though even her imminent death would not stop her from toppling his regime. Hermione Granger, Undesirable Number Two, the muggleborn face of the Order, insufferable thorn in his side know it all, his fucking thrice damned soulmate. And from the moment he had been possessed to touch her, she owned him, ruled his entire being, and would make him willingly bow to her, like the queen she presented herself to be. His only saving grace with her, was that she was blissfully ignorant of the power she now held over him.

Watching his salacious words register in her mind, made a wicked grin cross his face, turning all the more devious at her sharp intake of breath. Turning on his heel, he easily walked away, the steps of his long strides silent on the marble floors. Climbing the stairs at an unhurried pace, he chuckled under his breath as the sounds of her disgruntled muttering and the petulant stomping of her feet carried up the open space as she disappeared into the heart of the manor, no doubt beginning to familiarize herself with the layout so she could plan her inevitable attempt at escape. For now though, he trusted in the logic and strategy she had employed to keep Potter hidden from them over the last nine months to overrule any impulse she had to run while his back was turned.

Turning down a corridor that would lead to the master's suite of rooms, Severus steadfastly ignored the whispers and looks that came from the paintings and portraits he passed. Each frame was filled to capacity with the occupants from the rest of the manor, coming to share in the rumors of Prince Manor's newest resident. Throwing the doors open, he flicked his wand at the portraits in his sitting room, barring entry to the overly nosy works of oil not wanting to tempt one of them into asking him about the girl, the idea of replacing the works with truly still pieces enticing.

Collapsing onto the couch, he propped his boots up on the steel blue ottoman, and charmed the bar tray to pour him a whiskey neat. Rolling the crystal tumbler across his forehead, he dropped his head onto the back of the couch and drank half the glass before setting it on the table beside him. The girl's reappearance in his life and the tether she had to him was the last thing he had needed. He had worked too hard since his grandparents had taken him away from Spinner's End twenty-three years ago to allow his plans to unravel now. She was an unwelcome distraction, one that would consume him if he didn't find a way to manipulate their situation to his advantage and quickly. Draining the rest of his whiskey with a hiss, Severus dropped his feet to the floor with a thud and leveraged himself up from the couch.

He walked around the fireplace that separated the sitting room from his bedroom, and through his closet that connected to the en-suite. The bathroom had large, hexagon shaped marble tiling with a gold, gleaming grout that spread across the floor and up the walls. Surrounding the single variety was a hunter green tiling and gold, gilded mirror, flanked with small, candle lit chandeliers. Taking in the large open shower, he began to compile a mental list of what needed to be done now that he had foolishly touched his soulmate's marking and had begun the earliest stages of tying them together.

On a wall devoid of any fixtures, Severus placed his palm on a center tile and pushed it inward. Stepping back, he watched as the decoratively cut pieces of marble began to spin in varying directions, sinking into the wall, and separating to create an arch that was a mirror to the one that led back to his closet. Passing through the dust and cobweb ridden room, he walked into the suite that was made to house the mistress of the manor, from a time when it was socially improper for a couple to publicly announce their shared living arrangements even in marriage.

As he walked through the room examining the work to be done, his boots left visible footprints from where they disturbed the years of collected dust. The windows in the room reached nearly from floor to ceiling and overlooked the lake the back of the manor butted up to, though the view was hidden behind planks of wood that had been nailed over the frames to preserve the glass. Passing the covered bed, he walked into what would be her sitting room and pulled back one of the formally white sheets that had been acting as a protective cover to the antiques. The small couch had feminine lines edged in a tarnished silver frame and though covered for years, the fabric that wrapped the cushions had faded and was in need of replacing for the color had become indistinguishable.

"Mopsey?" Severus called, turning about the room to examine how much damage had occurred over the years from neglect.

The little elf popped into the room before him, sinking into a deep courtesy as she said, "Master called for Mopsey? How may Mopsey serve Master of Prince family?"

"You were trained to one day be the head elf for the future Mistress of the manor, correct?"

At the question the little elf's ears gave an excited twitch. She rose from her courtesy, with a delicate bob of her head before answering him.

"Yes, Master. Mopsey was chosen by the late Mistress Clarisse, to one day serve Master's mate."

Severus watched the elf as her little body hummed with excitement. It seemed that despite his abject horror upon seeing Granger in her filthy state, his old elf, Finicky, had been spreading word to the other elves of the manor as quickly as the portraits. The damn creatures had been nearly as insistent as his grandparents about finding his mate so the Prince family could secure its lineage in case he died in service to the Dark Lord.

"Good, then consider yourself officially in service to Miss Granger as of now. Have the mistress's suite outfitted to accommodate her and include re-configuring the en-suite in your list of duties. It will need a second vanity and a tub installed at the very least. She also came to us without any belongings apart from her wand, which I have possession of, and the clothes she was wearing. See to it that a wardrobe is also provided for her, with enchantments to shrink down to fit her emaciated state till her health can be remedied, along with anything else you may think she will be in need or want of," he instructed.

"Of course, master. Mopsey is happy to serve and honored to serve Mistress," she eagerly replied, popping out to tend to her new duties with expedience.

Heading back through his own suite, Severus sank onto the couch once more and began to think on how best to get the girl to bend to his will. He recalled his six years of teaching the insufferable witch and her desperate need to be recognized and praised for her brilliance. Thinking back on the way she thrived on the attentions of her other professors and how his lack of such displays drove her to further assert herself to him in a desperate bid to receive the same attention and accolades. The more scathing his remarks on her essays the more detail she would add in the following assignment. The sharper his criticism of her brewing the more methodical she would become. It wasn't enough for her to know she was the brightest student in Hogwarts based on her class ranking, she wanted the praise. She needed the validation from the respective masters within each field of study she partook in, and the more he withheld it from her the more it pushed her to gain his favor.

It couldn't really be that simple, could it? He thought, tracing his lips with his finger as he continued to examine his limited knowledge of Hermione Granger the witch and not the war heroine of the Order.

All the signs were there pointing to the idea that the answer to his problem was in fact as simple as giving her the validation and praise she had desperately sought from him as her professor. He would have to tread carefully, ease her into it over a period of time so as not to rouse her suspicions. If he was successful in coaxing the urge to please out of her again, it wouldn't be a far jump from there to get the stubborn and strong willed witch to bend her knee and submit. With the plan taking shape inside his head he summoned Finicky to aid him in his efforts.

"Master, Finicky must apologize for Finicky has gone against Master's wishes and must be punished," the old elf pleaded.

Confused as to what the elf could be speaking of, Severus asked, "And what wishes would those be?"

"Master has brought his mate to the manor. We elves have a Mistress again to oversee us all in your absence, another to serve with honor, a soul marked witched," he said reverently. "But Finicky does not trust the new Mistress so Finicky has been following Mistress to learn her secrets."

The elf's guilty confession caught his attention, making him sit up and lean into the still bowing creature.

"No Finicky, you do not need to punish yourself for that. You anticipated my needs like any well trained elf would. Have you found anything out yet?"

"Master is not mad?" He asked, slowly rising from his bow. "Finicky does not need to punish himself?"

"No, you do not."

"Master will not like what Finicky has found," he cautioned, wringing his hands.

What the hell could the elf be so concerned about? Severus thought, his eyes going wide as he realized his mistake.

"Fuck!" He swore, standing up and marching to the door to chase after her.

He had assumed the logical part of her would temper her impulses. That she would learn her surroundings and wait for the most opportune time to stage an escape, thus in turn buying him the time he needed to find a way to make her want to stay. He hadn't factored in the traits of stupidity and misguided bravery that had gotten her sorted into Gryffindor playing a part.

"Master wait!" Finicky beseeched. "Master has misunderstood Finicky. The new Mistress is still here but Finicky thinks she is not alone."

"What are you talking about? That's impossible," he snapped.

"Mistress is acting like Miss Eileen was before late Mistress Clarisse, disowned her," he whispered, backing up to stand behind one of the armchairs.

Severus's body tensed with barely repressed rage and a foreign feeling of possession that made his anger boiling even more as Finicky's words penetrated his mind. Taking an audible breath in, he ground his teeth together, counting in vain to control himself.

"What exactly did you see?" He demanded in a voice as sharp as ice.

"New Mistress-"

"Do not, address that cavorting whore, as Mistress!" He yelled, throwing the empty crystal tumbler against the wall.

"Yes Master," Finicky squeaked. "Finicky followed the girl as she began to explore the manor. She was stumbling a lot and leaning against the doors and walls. Finicky used to see Miss Eileen do the same thing right before Miss Eileen would get sick. Then just like Miss Eileen, the girl became panicked, opening every door till she found a suite. Finicky followed the girl and saw her get sick in the toilet..." He explained, trailing off at the last moment.

"Go on," Severus drawled in command, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The elf visibly gulped as he looked around out from behind the armchair, pulling on his ears.

"Finicky is thinking the girl is not alone... That she is with small witch or wizard outside of bonding... Like Master's mother, Miss Eileen was."