Disclaimer: I am the mighty J K Rowling. I own everything. If you believe me, go look up 'gullible' in a dictionary and see if your picture is next to it. Honestly....
Chapter Nine
Hermione woke up. For a moment she could not work out where she was.
The bed was strangely hard, not like the one in her normal sumptuous abode.
There was a scent to the pillow that was not her own; cinnamon mixed with something that she struggled to identify but somehow could place.
Strangest of all was the presence of two slightly muscular arms draped possessively around her.
Hermione froze.
Damn.
Her mind frantically ran around in circles as she tried desperately to work out what she had just got herself into.
Hermione finally concluded that she had two options to choose from.
She could throw herself wholeheartedly into the relationship, following her instincts alone and forgetting about her father, about Draco, about the life that she was meant to be living. She could give up the power, and strength, the awed respect, and follow Severus out into the unknown.
Or she could stick to the plan that she had quickly made last night, and give up the warmth that was currently surrounding her so comfortably. She could sacrifice what could be for the happiness of her father and only live for power.
As Hermione thought, she unconsciously snuggled deep into the covers and the embrace of the man holding her. It came as a shock, therefore, a few moments later when the arms around her tightened.
"Good morning, love," rumbled a deep voice.
Hermione opened her eyes to look into two endless black pits, a faint light from lord knows where shining deep inside them.
She cringed at the thought of what she was about to do. At what she had to do.
"Love?" she asked scornfully, whilst pushing away the warm arms and rolling out of the bed.
Hermione looked down at the man lying below her.
Severus's mouth was opening and closing, but no sound was coming out.
Although he was by no means a small man, he somehow looked lost lying alone in the bed, the covers crumpled around him.
What am I doing?
"Hermione," said Severus, almost pleadingly, "I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"
I don't know, I don't know, please stop...
Finally, she found her voice again.
"Thanks for the shag, Severus. No-" her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "No lessons today, I think."
"You haven't told me why."
"Why?" she asked, disguising a sob with a laugh. "You think you mean anything to me? I told you once, I'll do it again. You are nothing."
No. You are everything. Everything...
Hermione turned and swept out of the room, hoping that the darkness would hide the tears streaming down her face.
"A triumph," she choked out almost hysterically. "A triumph indeed."
In the afternoon, Hermione woke from a fitful sleep, feeling restless but by no means refreshed.
Upon dressing and pacing from a while, she decided to distract herself with a visit to her father.
At the end of the corridor that lead to her fathers chambers, she leant her head against the wall and began to plot the different ways to enter undetected.
A living form was, of course, impossible. Her father had told her so himself.
Inanimate objects to transform herself into were usually successful, but she rarely got near enough to her father to surprise him accurately.
It was just so difficult to transform oneself into a dust mite and then persuade a breeze to blow you into exactly the right place.
And then the problem was that you could sometimes forget what your natural form was.
Hermione shuddered at the memory of the week that she spent as a door stop, before somebody remembered that Voldemort had no doorstop and transfigured her back into a woman.
How humiliating that had been.
So what to do?
Hermione contemplated the options for a few moments more, but as she did, she heard voices.
Being a person rather prone to sticking her nose in where it was not wanted, Hermione was naturally interested. This she could focus on. The perfect way to distract herself from...
Hermione thought for a moment, and then placed her hands to her ears. At once, they lengthened, enlarged, and snaked their ways down the corridor to take up post by the cracks beneath the door.
Hermione sat down and began to listen to the conversation taking place inside.
"... and she doesn't know?" asked a voice. The extended pronunciation of the s's made it sound almost like the hissing of a snake. It could only have been her father.
"She knows nothing, I am sure of it," drawled a voice. Hermione froze at the recognition of Draco's baritone.
But she had been so sure that he held no power in her father's inner circle- the boy was certainly not important enough to hold consul with Voldemort himself!
"Excellent. How is it faring?"
"Very well, if I may say so myself. Frankly, I think that she adores me. With a little persuasion, I think that anything will be possible," and there was the Malfoy arrogance that Draco used on everyone except for herself. A self-confidence that was almost overwhelming.
"And how are you finding it?"
"Well, you know how it is. Hermione is a filthy mudblood- speaking to her, looking at her, touching her.... It makes me rather queasy, I must say!"
Hermione gasped, unable to believe what she was hearing.
"Are you nothappy to go through with it, then?"
"My Lord, for you I am." There was a pause. "Oh, and I must say that the benefits are rather good as well. I father her child, and it will become the most powerful- well, second most powerful to yourself- wizard that has ever lived. Spending time with the mudblood is a necessary sacrifice."
"I'm glad that you understand. She is of no sentimental value to you, I trust?"
Hermione heard what sounded for all intents and purposes like a snort.
"Excellent. So once she has had your child, young Malfoy, it will be very easy to have her killed."
"Oh good. I was hoping that you would not force me to put up with her after we have got what we needed. The mudblood should probably be out of our hair in ten months!"
"That soon?"
Hermione could almost hear the smirk.
"What can I say? I'm a fast worker."
Hermione let out a choked sob.
Severus had been right.
She was a nothing, with no future, no real place. The love that her father had shown for her was a lie.
And just a few hours ago, she had thrown away the only real thing in false little world.
She jumped at the sound of movement from the chamber.
As quickly as she could, she called back what she liked to call her 'extendable ears' and quickly apparated back to her quarters.
Hermione paced back and forth around the main room. What could she do?
Undoubtedly, Severus had been right. Her father had modified her memory, and made up a purely fictional past that she had been only too happy to shelter in. Unfortunately, it could not help her now...
Or could it? She could run away, find her old friends and ask them to help her.
But even if she could find them, which was highly unlikely, why should they believe her when all she had was a bunch of false memories? Why should they trust someone that had believed herself to be in league with Voldemort?
And could she leave Severus?
Wait! How could she have been so foolish? Severus!
Hermione calmly strode to the door, and opened it up to reveal the man in his chambers.
Severus was still in bed. It appeared that he had slept since she had left- and not well at that.
She watched him toss and turn for a while...
And murmur her name?
She slowly walked over to the man and touched his cheek.
"Severus?"
Ha ha! The eeeevil plot has emerged! But will Severus trust her again?
And now has deleted my longer review responses. So, for the second time... thanks to sophianwin, Rae (no! My Sevvie! Mine!), Christieanne-Anna (you do? Yay!), stargazer starluver, Lover not a fighter (trust me, I'd only disappoint you), kalina, JasperPress777, Matte (I made it! Thanks!), momsangel, Artemis MoonClaw. Hugs to you all!
I'm still pimping my C2 humour community- I'd love more staff and subscribers! hint
Now y'all know the drill. Please press that lil button!