SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Draco felt his stomach roil as the curse took him over. It was a most unpleasant sense of deja-vu. He thought back to the last time his father had cast this curse upon him. He'd been eight years old. He'd also been a whiny, teary-eyed, weak-willed milksop. He could recall the disappointment in his father's eyes every time he looked at him. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
*
Lucius had grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him into his private study where he directed him forcefully into the wing-backed armchair on the other side of his desk. He remembered his mother flitting nervously to the door, peeking around the lintel with a panicked look on her face as she read the intent in her husband's eyes.
"Don't you have some charity or other to attend to?" His question was biting, closed off. It brooked no argument. She shook her head vigorously. "Well, go find something to do!"
"But he's still so young…" she tried to argue before she was cut off by a cold and warning glance.
"He can't afford to have any weaknesses at all, not in our world."
She had nodded then and flushed, as if she was embarrassed at the show of her maternal side. "I know, but I can't help it. He's my child."
"You can't afford the weakness either and you know it. Go and be the model wife I was led to believe you'd be and raise money for St. Mungo's or the '81 Slaughter Survivor's Fund," he snorted at the mention of the latter charity. It was to be expected when he'd helped create it through his actions as a Death Eater, although Draco hadn't understood the accompanying sneer at the time.
"Don't interfere," Lucius had warned her when Narcissa held his gaze for a little longer than was good for her health. Just two words, but they held so much weight. Draco watched his mother close her face off--she thought he couldn't know what she was going through. She'd been wrong. She had glanced at him for a moment, unable to help herself, before she turned away and in those few seconds he had read everything in her eyes.
*
He recalled how his mother had become inured to their life in the years since his father had 'corrected' his behaviour. She never batted an eyelid at anything Lucius did anymore. In fact, over time he'd come to expect to see her standing at his father's elbow, supporting him no matter what it was he did. Draco remembered how he had sat mute, terrified at the exchange going on in front of him. Now that he thought about it, he knew that so many corrupt things were engraved on his psyche that day and it seemed it was time to revisit them. Although now that he was an adult the fear that shot through him resonated at a deeper level. He went cold at the thought of what twisted and sickly-inventive torture his father would inflict on him now he was grown.
***
The trio port-keyed into the middle of The Hall that served as nerve-centre of Resistance operations. As Harry raised a hand to his mouth to mask a yawn that threatened to consume him, he noticed a grim-faced, short, homely man standing by the fireplace with his arms folded tightly across his chest, slender fingers drumming impatiently on his forearms.
"Bad news, Colin?" Harry asked as he walked over to the slightly-built photographer. Colin wasn't in the habit of coming here while wearing his disguises. He usually waited to get out of his makeup before reporting in as it was bad for his health to appear here as anyone but himself. Colin unfolded his arms, raised his hands to sweep his lank, oily fringe back from his forehead and sighed.
"I'm not even sure where to start, Harry," he admitted as he started to pace back and forth, "there's so much to tell."
"Is it that bad?" Padma asked Colin as she came up behind Harry and ran a familiar hand up his spine to rest at the back of his neck. It was a comforting and intimate gesture, one she knew he loved.
"I honestly don't know what to make of it, so it probably is that bad," Colin conceded.
Severus walked over to stand on the other side of Harry. "Well out with it, Mr. Creevey, surely you must know by now we live for bad news," he told the young man dryly as he crossed his arms tightly against his chest and looked at him down his nose in the classic 'Head of Slytherin' pose that had struck so much terror into them all when they were in school.
Padma almost choked on her own spit at his remark and how he'd coupled it with his famous intimidating stare. Snape could be subversively funny when he wanted to. She'd recognised that in him as she'd grown up under his tutelage. His subtle humour had been readily apparent to most of the students who made the cut and advanced to N.E.W.T. level Potions. There had been passing respect on both sides, something that had surprised the senior students. It had seemed to them that the one class he actually enjoyed teaching had been N.E.W.T Potions. The smaller class had been made up of students from all four houses and he'd seemed happy to be rid of the dunderheads who were excluded from the course thanks to their abysmal results in their Potions O.W.L. The lessons were challenging and there was rarely an opportunity for him to take points off anyone thanks to the competence of those who had advanced to the N.E.W.T. level course. Padma and Hermione were partnered during that time and they'd both remark in whispers over their cauldron about how pleasant he seemed compared to the Snape who had guided them from first year through their O.W.L.s, although they'd both observed he'd gotten fairer and more temperate towards them both during their fifth year. Harry glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow as he fought to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up into a smile. Padma grinned back at him. Harry was completely aware of her deep-seated fondness for the man standing next to him. He considered it to be an irritating yet endearing flaw in her character. Truth be told, his own relationship with the Headmaster had changed over the past two years. True, you couldn't call Harry and Severus friends, not by a longshot, but they had learned to work together quite well in that time.
"There was trouble at The Chimaera. I had to take a girl to St. Mungo's last night "
"Isn't there always trouble at The Chimaera?" Harry asked, brow still raised.
"Not of this sort. It's not every day you get to see Draco Malfoy flip his lid in public." Colin had their complete attention now and all three heads were turned towards him, their faces betraying a morbid fascination. "I was sitting in a shadowed corner of the pub, quietly minding everyone else's business like I always do, when he stormed into the place in a foul mood. He was sitting with a bottle in front of himself and was knocking its contents back straight. He looked so completely pissed off that people were making a point of not meeting his eyes."
"What happened?" Padma prodded him apprehensively.
"A girl with absolutely no sense of self-preservation sat down at his table and the next thing you know she was slamming back into the bottles behind the bar, shattering them as she slid out of sight."
Padma winced. "The girl you took to St. Mungo's?" she asked.
"No that was a different girl again. You know, now that I think of it that girl reminded me a little of Hermione--in a cheap, Knockturn Alley sort of way, of course," he amended when he noticed Snape's brows knit together at his observation and Harry and Padma glance at each other worriedly.
"And what happened to that one?" the Headmaster asked.
"Impaled on a sliver of the shattered mirror that came down with all the bottles," Colin elaborated, "she didn't make it."
"I think we had better sit down," Severus stated, exhaling loudly, betraying how much Colin's observation of the girl's resemblance to Hermione–and her subsequent demise–had affected him, "as it sounds like this will take a while." The legs of the chairs scraped loudly over the stone floor as they were pulled out and the exhausted quartet settled into them. Snape conjured a pot of strong tea along with milk, sugar, and wedges of lemon on a tray with china mugs on the side and poured a draught for everyone as Colin began to tell them of his undercover adventures last night.
***
Hermione was terrified beyond belief. Lucius Malfoy did that to her every time. There was something about him–something lurking in the back of his eyes–that screamed he was unhinged, but until now it was like she hadn't really realised to what extent. She knew he was one of the most evil bastards in the wizarding world but she'd never believed he'd go so far as to punish his son in this way, let alone use her as an instrument. Of course, he'd been able to keep Draco in check with just a word in the past. She recalled the instructions Lucius had whispered in her ear as he held her pinned against the wall and tried to collect herself.
Before the victory of the Dark Lord, the elder Malfoy had held his psychopathic tendencies in check behind a practised and polished veneer of civility. He had always been extremely conscious of the finely crafted facade he presented to the world at large and cultivated it with care. More and more, that veneer was rubbing off to expose who he was–who he really was. No wonder she always had that intense knife blade of fear twisting in her guts when she was in the same room as him.
She'd been surprised Lucius hadn't just up and killed her when he realised Draco had become obsessed with her and she was still waiting for it to happen. Only the thought that he still had plans for her where Professor Snape was concerned eased her fear a little. If he still thought she could be of use, he wouldn't kill her... yet. She was roused from her thoughts by the sound of Malfoy Sr. issuing orders to the house elf that was his shadow.
"Nasty, go and fetch the largest silver bowl you can find and bring it back here."
The elf didn't answer but without raising her head from where it rested, cradled on her knees, Hermione knew that he'd nodded and blinked out to do his master's bidding. What did he need a large bowl for? The wonderful world of human sacrifice and subsequent associated bloodletting?
***
They had finally gotten through the chaos of the morning that had taken a stranglehold of their time the moment they returned from their shift on the wards. Harry and Padma were swaying with exhaustion when they left the other resistance members, now led by a touchingly animated Ginny who had come into her element with the challenge of co-ordinating the tasks they'd charged her with. Ginny had been complaining for months about not having any real purpose and about being marginalised because she was pregnant and her belief that her brothers were trying to save her mother from the grief of losing anyone else. It wasn't all true, every single person in the resistance had been marginalised due to the fact they didn't really have any clear plan of attack against Voldemort's ministry and because Ginny was carrying a new life within her, she'd become even more precious to the other resistance members. She represented a hope for them that seemed almost impossible. Only with Snape's recent discovery of the prostituted prisoners had they come together with a renewed sense of purpose, sure that they could do something other than dart out of their various foxholes for small-scale manoeuvres that had about as much of an effect as a gnat trying to chew through an elephant's hide.
Their smiles were weary yet indulgent as they wended their way through the hewn corridors to the particular cavern they called home. There weren't any doors in this place, it was too much hassle and they didn't want to think about the possibility they might end up living here for years to come if things continued the way they'd been going. Private quarters with doors seemed to suggest a permanence here they weren't ready to face. Beds and cots tended to be thrust into the shadiest corner of the room, tucked in behind stacked boxes and crates, where what little privacy that could be afforded in a place such as this could be taken advantage of. It worked for the most part. Everyone understood the need for privacy and tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. Their cots had been pushed together in the corner of one of the larger storerooms, hidden behind a five-foot tall wall of cardboard boxes containing tins of various fruits and vegetables procured from the nearest Tesco.
It wasn't the most romantic setting but stolen moments were special and the stark functionality of the surroundings tended to fade in recollection. Harry had thrown himself on to his cot with a groan of pleasure, not bothering to take off his cloak or shoes. He really didn't care if he was comfortable or not, he was just bone tired and needed to shut his eyes. Padma shook her head at him as she shrugged out of her own cloak. He grinned widely at her as she took the time to shake it out and transfigure it into a blanket.
"What are you grinning for?" she queried, clutching the blanket to her chest. "If you think I'm sharing this with you, you're mad... stark raving mad."
"Oh, come on, share with me," he cajoled.
"I don't think so, you're a terrible blanket hog, Harry,"she told him in what was to be the start of their nightly argument, "I'll end up freezing my arse off and you'll be a toasty and oblivious sausage roll, never mind that I'll end up sleeping on the hump in the middle and will wake up stiff as a board."
"No you won't,"he promised solemnly but his eyes were dancing.
"Right you are, you bloody liar," Padma's voice was soft as she held out her hand to him. "Come on, let me help you get out of your cloak. You'll toss and turn all night otherwise and I'll get no sleep."
Harry offered her his hand but stayed limp, making a big production of it as she yanked him upright. "I really am going to kick your arse if you don't cut it out,"she admonished. He could be really giddy and child-like when he was exhausted but when it was him she never minded playing mother. "Help me out here."
Harry grinned again and slid the cloak off his shoulders. As Padma transfigured it into a second blanket he kicked off his trainers, letting them fall to bounce off the stone floor and come to rest in two different spots under the cot. He'd regret it in the morning when he'd have to go questing for them but he was too tired to care at the moment. He rolled under the tent that had formed as Padma fluffed the blankets, and watched them float to rest over the cots. He waited for Padma to tuck in the bottom corner of the blanket she claimed as her own so that he couldn't steal it and wrap himself up in it during the night and held the blankets up so she could climb in and snuggle up against him, spoon style.
She fit so well against him, a fact that always seemed to make him pause for thought while he offered up a prayer. He kissed the back of her neck and ran a hand up her side from knee to waist and was rewarded by a soft hand reaching back to caress his face.
"I love you, Padma," he whispered into her ear as he nipped on her earlobe.
"Love you too, Harry," she replied softly as she turned her head so they could kiss.
The lay for a few minutes in the dark in that state that falls between fatigue and true sleep before Padma spoke and broke the silence. "Do you really think it's going to work, Harry?"
"I bloody well hope so, Love," he answered after a moment.
"I'm scared."
"Me too. It'd be stupid to not be scared, especially with the lives of so many of our friends at stake. Ron's a basket case from worrying too much about Lavender and Hermione and I'm hoping that when we pull them out they'll be able to recover from everything they've been put through. I know that Hermione is strong willed and stubborn as an ox, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about her either. " He pulled her closer to him, folding his arms around her protectively.
"I'm worried about the headmaster."
"Why ever for?"
"It's not like him but he seems to have an emotional stake in this one."
"You've noticed that too?"
"Mm-hmm, if you know what you're looking for, it isn't hard to see."
"Well, I hope he'll be able to hide it from the other lot because there'll be a world of trouble if they pick up on it." It wasn't really a thought Harry had wanted to have stuck in his head just as he went to sleep, but it was just another log to fuel the fire of his recent worries. He couldn't remember the last time they'd actually gotten a decent night's sleep. He couldn't remember a time when they weren't numb from the toll of living under the radar in a Wizarding England headed by Voldemort. It seemed like a lifetime ago and he was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired of it..
***
Nasty had returned and was standing in the doorway with a large silver bowl in his hands and a look of absolute hunger on his face.
"Sick little fuck!" Hermione thought when she glanced up and saw his look of anticipation. It was no wonder that Lucius kept him around to do all his dirty work. He was so efficient at what he did it wasn't funny and she didn't want to dwell on the fact that he seemed to enjoy it. She wondered for the umpteenth time if he wasn't related to the Black family's house elf, Kreacher. Then she noticed the look on Malfoy Senior's face and her stomach dropped out from under her. "Oh, God, breathe..." she told herself. She'd never seen a more predatory grin on his face in all the times she'd been in his presence, and she'd had some close encounters with him these past six months. She had to admit to herself that this one took the biscuit.
"Draco,"his father drawled, "are you ready to pay the piper?"
"Bring it on, Old Man,"Draco sneered, deliberately defiant.
"As you wish, Draco, but let it be said that you brought all of this on yourself."
"If you're looking for absolution from your sins you won't find it here," Draco snapped.
"Who said I wanted absolution, son?" Lucius shook his head and started to laugh.
***
Severus had almost stumbled over the threshold of Hogwarts, exhausted as he was from lack of sleep over the past week. He'd been surprised to find Professor Sprout sitting on the bench in the entryway. He raised a questioning brow at her and she smiled as she stood up and came to support him, holding his forearm fast so he couldn't pull it from her grasp.
"Have you been receiving a certain visitor in your quarters?" he asked, suspiciously, as she tucked her arm through his.
"And what visitor would that be, Severus?" enquired the stout Head of Hufflepuff who also acted as his unofficial Deputy Headmistress. Voldemort had assigned someone new and untrusted to the position, but the remaining staff who'd stood behind Dumbledore had other ideas. They'd quietly formed their own cadre and the new teachers were not part of the equation. There was a whole rank and file of staff at Hogwarts that operated apart from Voldemort's administration.
"A certain, annoying, white-bearded Son of a Bitch who has recently learned how to furtively jump from picture to goddamn portrait in this place." he muttered, sotto-voce.
"I haven't a clue what you're on about," she answered immediately, her eyes dancing in a way that condemned her as guilty while she protested her innocence, "really." Pomona grinned at him then, and he grasped his forehead as if he was in pain. And if you really thought about it, he was in pain as Pomona and Albus operating in tandem were about as subtle as being dashed about the head with the largest rock one could find. Couple that with the fatigue that leeched into every bone in his body and you were faced with veritable torture.
"At least don't torment me until I've had a chance to collect my wits," he begged his colleague. A sense of terror gnawed at the edges of his consciousness and he wondered what was happening to Hermione. His nerves were frayed and the all-pervasive sense of unease that had settled into his bones was starting to burn holes in his stomach. He stood for a moment biting back the bile that had made its way into his throat. He really wasn't up for whatever it was that Dumbledore had in mind. He hoped Pomona would see it without him having to say anything.
"Now, would I do that?"she asked seriously.
"You wouldn't but I'm not so sure about the other one," the Headmaster retorted.
***
Pomona took a moment to pour herself a cup of green tea before settling in the large, squashy armchair in her quarters. As she pulled her feet up under herself, she heard a throat clearing and looked up into the picture on the wall above her fireplace. Albus was there, sitting on a mossy log in an old forest as a green-haired wood nymph sat behind him and massaged his shoulders.
"You didn't bring him with you?" his question was half-scolding.
"Severus is dead on his feet, Albus, it can wait until he gets a few hours of shut-eye."
"He's quite an annoying lad, you know. He's the only person on staff who doesn't have a painting in his bedroom."
I'd call him quite smart. He values his privacy and his sleep. You'd be waking him up at all hours of the night with pearls of wisdom, ideas and questions if you had a way to get into his room." The Head of Hufflepuff took a long, gulping draught of her tea.
"I would not!" Albus retorted. Pomona just smiled at him over the rim of her cup. "Did he tell you anything?"
"No, he didn't, but he did say he'd come see me here when he woke up in a few hours."
"I hate waiting," Albus complained, much in the manner of a petulant child,
"You always have," Pomona pointed out, resting the half-full cup on her lap as she stifled a yawn. The former headmaster has woken her up this morning far too early for it to be funny.
"Yes, but at least when I was corporeal I could find ways to pass the time. I could indulge my sweet tooth, for example."
"And getting a massage from a pretty nymph isn't a great way to pass time?"she scoffed, "I'd say lean back and enjoy yourself, Severus will be here soon enough and you probably won't like what he has to say. Think of it as a pre-emptive massage so you'll be able to stay relaxed." Professor Sprout drained the last of the tea from her cup and stood up. "I'm going down to supervise breakfast, the children are always so much more boisterous when Severus isn't there to glare at them all. I'll be back in time for his visit." She couldn't help but smirk on her way out of the room as she heard the nymph admonish Albus to relax.
***
Lavender winced, hissing as she swung herself off the bed, still stiff and very sore (the aftermath of the rapid healing she'd been subjected to earlier). She'd been jolted awake by the sound of the door slamming and looked over to see Hermione, swaying on her knees in the middle of the room. She was horrified at the state of her friend, her arms and legs a bruised and bloodied roadmap of the violence she'd endured. What had happened to her? Had she been with Voldemort too?
"Hermione?" Lavender asked softly, unprepared for what she saw on her friend's face as Hermione raised her gaze to meet hers. Had that been what she'd looked like earlier? It was like Hermione was looking right through her. She reached a hand out to touch her friend's shoulder, to snap her back to the here and now but before she had a chance to make contact the curly haired girl seemed to come out of her trance and focus on Lavender's face.
"Oh my God, Lavender, thank Heaven it's you, thank Heaven it's you!" Hermione sounded almost hysterical as her hands reached out to grasp on to her friend's forearms. She was trembling uncontrollably.
"Are you all right?" Lavender queried, watching as Hermione shook her head.
"I'm not sure I'll ever be all right again," Hermione replied, bursting into tears. Lavender swept her into a hug and comforted her with murmured reassurances, amazed at how quickly their roles had reversed. It hadn't been all that long since Hermione had been the one doing the comforting while she'd been the one having a breakdown. She hated this place and what they had been reduced to. Here she was, a scant few hours after wishing she had died, trying to instil hope into the person who had been her crutch – the one person who had always been so strong out of all the captives here. What had they done to her?
***
Severus had looked in on Fawkes and was glad to find he was still nestled contentedly next to the blazing fireplace in his sitting room. He'd instructed the house elves to keep the fire stoked and was happy to see they'd done as he'd directed. That was one more worry off his mind, for which he was thankful. It was nice to know something was going right. After taking a minute to bend down and stroke the little phoenix's head, he stripped off his cloak and robes on his way to the bedroom, dropping them to the floor where he shrugged out them and neglecting to pick them up. He was too tired to care about the mess right at this moment. He couldn't even risk taking a Dreamless Sleep potion because he had promised to meet with Professor Sprout in her quarters in a scant few hours. He picked up the edge of his bedcovers and slipped underneath, wrapping himself up in the blankets, which he tugged up to his chin, and falling asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow.
Within minutes, Snape found himself dreaming but it was an odd disjointed dream that was full of shadows and obscure images he had trouble identifying. After a moment of puzzling it out in the back of his mind, he knew what was wrong. This wasn't his dream. Like before, he had somehow touched Hermione's mind and been dragged in. But how? He was back at Hogwarts. The pull should not have been strong enough to do that at this distance.
*
"No! Stop it!" Severus was walking along a corridor that somehow seemed familiar when he heard a voice that gave him pause. It sounded like it was coming from behind a door a little farther down the hallway. As he reached out to turn the jewelled handle, he realised where he was and frowned. Hermione was dreaming of the brothel and the voice that had stopped him in his tracks had been that of Draco Malfoy. Given what he had learned from Colin Creevey this morning he was seized with a sudden sense of dread. Was this dream the product of all she had suffered recently, or was it a memory she was reliving in her sleep? Either way, it made him ill to realise he might experience it.
He opened the door and peered carefully around it and into the room, his jaw dropping as his mind wrapped itself around the scene he'd come upon.
Hermione, naked, bruised and bloodied was standing over and equally naked, bruised and bloodied Draco Malfoy, who was scrambling away from her on his elbows. She had a wild, trapped look on her face and Draco's expression was one of fear and horror.
"Well, go on then, girl, do as you were bid and do stop struggling Draco, for God's sake." Severus' head snapped around at the sound of that voice, shocked to find Lucius was witness to what was going on in this room. The elder Malfoy was sitting in a large, upholstered armchair in the corner of the room. His outer robes were lying across one arm of the chair and he sat relaxed, in shirt-sleeves that were spattered with blood, his wand trained on the pair in front of him. Severus watched as Draco went still and Hermione advanced on him again.
"Hermione?" Severus called out after clearing his throat had not garnered the attention of anyone in the room. "Hermione, stop!" She didn't acknowledge she'd heard him so he stepped into the room, never taking his eyes of Lucius and his wand, yet watching the scene between Hermione and Draco unfold with morbid fascination.
Hermione raised a hand to Draco's cheek and touched it. Severus could see her hand was trembling and he wondered what the hell Lucius was playing at. He watched as Draco flinched and whimpered. Hermione's touch lengthened into a caress that threaded down his neck and chest and Draco pulled away from her with a moan, lunging for a large silver bowl sitting on the floor by the wall. He wrapped his arms around it and retched the contents of his stomach into it. Severus' nostrils flared as he noticed the acrid smell of vomit for the first time and realised it had been present from the time he'd stepped through the door. His gaze flicked back to Hermione and he could tell she was barely keeping herself together as she watched Malfoy junior wipe his mouth and gasp for air. Snape then turned to look at Lucius and was not surprised by the look on his face. He'd seen it enough times over the years to know the twisted bastard was enjoying whatever he had orchestrated here.
Draco pushed himself up from the bowl and a house elf stepped out of the shadows behind Lucius to magic the bilious contents away before melting back into the darkness next to his master.
"Mudblood, it seems that my son needs to catch his breath for a moment. Come here," Hermione didn't immediately move, but after a moment she wove her way unsteadily towards Malfoy Sr., every step a struggle. Severus stepped forward to block her path and prevent her from obeying Lucius but it didn't make a difference. It was like he wasn't there at all. Unlike the other dreams he'd been pulled into, he couldn't interact with her. Here he was just an ineffectual spectator. He watched, upset, as Hermione came to a halt next to Lucius.
As he followed the man's hand on its snaking journey along Hermione's thigh and waist he felt the bile rising in his own throat and wasn't sure that he wouldn't need to use the bowl on the floor himself. An odd feeling of anger seized him and he fought down the urge to throttle the life out of Lucius.
If there was nothing he could do here, he didn't want to be here. He did not want to watch Lucius abuse Hermione. He didn't even want to see Draco get hurt, even though the boy was rotten to the core and was responsible for Hermione's situation. Severus wanted to close his eyes and shut out the scene in front of him but he couldn't. A part of him had to know what was happening even as he needed to look away. He studied the look on her face as she endured Lucius' touch. He could tell by the way she held herself that she'd distanced herself from the situation as much as she was able to. Severus glanced at the battered young man on the floor.
Draco was watching his father and Hermione from underneath his brows. Severus was surprised by the hatred he saw there. Lucius had seen it too but he seemed more amused by it than anything. "What's the matter, boy?" his father mocked. "Can't wait your turn? Do you miss her touch already?"
Draco shook his head mutely but the pause before he did so hadn't gone unnoticed..
"You disappoint me, son. The whole purpose of this exercise is to break your obsession with this creature. Why don't we start again? When we're finished here, you'll never want to touch her again, I can assure you."
Lucius stood up and pulled Hermione across the room to stand over Draco once more. "Now I'd like you to be more aggressive this time, Mudblood. Don't let his simpering and whimpering put you off the task, you hear?" Hermione nodded hesitantly and Lucius continued, "and let's add a little something more into the mix, shall we? Crucio." Lucius smiled as Draco immediately began to writhe in pain as he was wracked by the effects of the curse for the second time that day.
"Let's see the effect your loving touch has on him now, Mudblood," Lucius commanded and Hermione knelt down next to Draco and reached out a shaking hand to brush the hair back that had fallen into his eyes as he tried to stop himself from thrashing around on the floor. Severus could see the panic in the boy's eyes as the first feather light stroke registered with him.
"Please, Granger, don't touch me," he begged in a desperate voice as he tried to pull out of her reach.
"I'm sorry," was all she could whisper as her touch got bolder and more deliberate. She listened to him moan in pain as her fingertips trailed across his face and neck.
"Now kiss him," Lucius ordered as he settled back into the chair to watch, his wand lazily covering the room.
Snape crossed the room to stand next to the chair where Lucius was sitting. He could see Hermione's face from here and was surprised to see tenderness and pain written there. She looked genuinely sorry to be inflicting this on Draco. Severus felt a twinge of something suspiciously like jealousy in his breast as he watched Hermione lean over and press her lips to Draco's.
Draco whimpered again and tore himself away from her, gasping as the pain of the Crucio and the Imperio directive fought for supremacy in him. He had tears streaming down his cheeks as he lunged for the bowl again and heaved into it. Severus could see blood mixed in with the bile this time and knew this evening's 'entertainment' had been going on for some time already.
Severus blanched as he realised what Lucius had done to his son. Thanks to the Imperius curse the man had made Hermione's touch poison to Draco. He had been witness to similar scenes in his past and wasn't surprised to recall that Lucius had been present each time. It was sort of a signature if you thought about it.
*
Snape shot up in bed, covered his face in his hands and tried to collect himself. The dream had ended so abruptly that he'd been startled awake. His heart pounded in his chest and his pulse was racing. He felt sick to his stomach and realised that it wasn't just his own feelings that were washing over him. He could feel Hermione in his mind and she was so upset it scared him. It took five whole minutes of deep breathing before he could even swing his legs off the bed and the day was still young.
A/N - While I have some excuse for this chapter being so tardy (my dad had a heart attack and subsequent bypass surgery and my mum is getting worse with her own illnesses and the computer crashing and us losing everything, including this chapter which wasn't saved or backed up to disc and had to be reconstructed from scratch), I really have no excuse for this chapter taking as long as it did. I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. Thank you all very much. I have only one pic to offer this time and it's a portrait of Snape looking pensive that you can find users can just hit my profile to find my yahoo group. You'll be able to find the chapter and the art there).
Karen