Disclaimer: Nothing related to the HP universe belongs to me.

A/N: Again, I thank Gyre Falcon and April for the brilliant beta-ing. I'm also grateful for all of your reviews. You have made me felt loved. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did the last.

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"The only thing that makes you feel happy, eh?"

"Shut up, woman, and come on."

Severus wrapped a hand around Hermione's waist and pulled her close. With a distinct 'pop,' they were out of the quiet neighborhood.

When she opened her eyes again, they were in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. The grass beneath her heels were lush, and stretched out in all directions. The only thing worth looking at was a huge gate to her left.

"What I want to know is, why can't you admit properly that you love me?"

"We are late" he replied exasperatedly, taking her hand and walked hurriedly to the gate.

"I mean, I know I love you."

He tapped his wand on the gate and murmured something. It swung open noiselessly. As they walked in, some very strong magic passed through her, and she suspected that besides the typical Anti-Apparition charm, there had to be at least five more wards. However, before she had time to contemplate what kinds of wards those were, her attention shifted to the majestic mansion coming into sight as they rushed down the path. Warm lights streamed from the French windows, and the black-tiled roof wore the unusually large moon like a proud crown.

"Is that a forest?" She pointed to a faraway line of gently swaying pines. "They own a forest?"

"Honestly, Hermione," he replied, not slowing down a bit, "you lived next to a bigger forest for seven years."

She was about to point out that Hogwarts was a castle with more than four hundred inhabitants, while Malfoy Mansion, as far as she was informed, accommodated only a family of three and an army of house-elves, when they arrived at the grandiose entrance. They hurried up the flight of marble stairs and stopped in front of the double doors. Severus knocked as Hermione glanced around in silent awe.

"How come you don't have a hereditary estate?"

"Not all purebloods are filthy rich, dear."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Severus," said a voice, startling Hermione. As the massive doors swung open inward, a tall man in dark green robes stepped out, his blond hair gleaming in the light behind him.

"Lucius," Severus greeted easily.

Lucius patted his shoulder and turned to face Hermione. She could not read the look in his eyes, but his smile seemed good-natured enough. She bowed slightly.

"Mr.--"

"Lucius," he responded quickly, picking up her hand and planted a kiss on it. "And I shall call you Hermione... unless you prefer Lady Snape, that is."

She took her hand back and fidgeted nervously. "H-Hermione would be fine--" She bit back the 'sir' that was about to roll out.

"Lucius, aren't y-- oh," another voice came from within the mansion. A second later, an elegant lady in her forties came into view. "Good evening, Severus."

"Narcissa." Severus bowed and kissed her hand. Hermione hoped idly that not all dark wizards abide by a medieval code of chivalry while Severus introduced her. She was shaken out of her reverie when Narcissa took her hand enthusiastically.

"I've heard all about Hermione," she told Severus. "We've met before..."

"Narcissa, our guests may want to come in," Lucius reminded his wife gently.

"Oh," the older witch chortled in embarrassment and led them into the house, still holding Hermione's hand. "Do pardon me."

"My wife's very easily excited," explained Lucius. Hermione was surprised-- she never imagined him to be capable of speaking so jovially, because all she had ever heard him say were threats and scathing comments. Severus, on the other hand, seemed to be completely at ease, as if dark couples teased all the time.

They were led into a gigantic hall with a high vaulted ceiling, where a crystal chandelier was hanging. Many candles were floating around the place, and Hermione took in the majestic tapestries and rugs that decorated the room delightfully. Her eyes finally fell onto the long table at the center. She gulped quietly when she recognized who were sitting around the table. Every Death Eater known to her, and some that weren't, was present. They were sitting comfortably and chatting with one another, and the air in the room was decidedly relaxed. At the end of the table was a black-robed figure. Hermione noted by his ghastly skin that he was none other than Voldemort himself.

The room fell silent upon their arrival. Lucius and Narcissa took their seats on Voldemort's right automatically. Severus led Hermione to the two seats on the Dark Lord's immediate left. Her hands sweated again from being so close to the one she had learned to fear since she first entered the wizarding world.

"Severus, you must do something about your punctuality," commented Voldemort as they sat down, his voice raspy with a grinning edge. "And you must be Hermione."

She paled hearing him address her, but Gryffindor bravery kept her from looking down. She nodded.

"It was Dumbledore, milord," Severus answered slowly. "We were deterred from leaving any earlier."

"What did that blasted man want from you again?" The affable air dissipated from Voldemort's voice at the mention of Dumbledore. The Death Eaters twitched in their seats, some clutching their cutlery a tad too tightly.

"Uh-uh," a brave voice spoke. It belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange, who was sitting next to Narcissa. She waved a hand casually, refilling Voldemort's goblet with wine. "Master, we do not bring business to the dining table, remember?"

Voldemort picked up his drink and took a generous swig. When he put down the goblet again he seemed to be calmed.

"It's always me, isn't it?" he sighed and looked around at his still followers, sounding almost sorry. "Let's forget about those troubling little pests now."

Slowly, conversations resumed among the Death Eaters, and Hermione let out a breath. Severus gave her a look before turning to discuss the latest scandal of Fudge with Lucius and Voldemort. She sat back and took a small sip from her glass. Hmm, not bad, she thought.

Just when she was about to enjoy herself, an all-to-familiar voice spoke into her left ear, much too close to her liking.

"I guess I'm not sitting next to my favorite godfather tonight."

She jumped and turned. Draco Malfoy straightened and smirked in his patented haughty way, pleased with himself for startling her. She glared.

"Malfoy," she hissed.

"Call me Draco." The corner of his lips quirked further up. "We're family now, aren't we, Hermione."

"Family!" The thought appalled her. She hadn't prepared to see him here, which was stupid, seeing how this was his house. And she did not appreciate stupidity.

"There's no need to shout." He took the seat beside her. She glanced around nervously, but no one was paying them any attention. "I'm only joking, M--"

For a second she thought he was going to call her the horrible racist name, but what he actually said shocked her even more.

"Mione," he finished his sentence with a grin.

"Don't call me that!" She gritted her teeth. He had always had a way of grinding her nerves. Before she could say anything more, however, Severus placed a piece of delicious-looking steak onto her plate, and she was distracted.

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After dinner, most of the guests moved to the adjourning lounge to chat and enjoy the night. The males clustered and talked about the Professional Quidditch League and politics, enjoying exquisite alcohol while their wives sat at the far corner with their gossips and shopping tips. As she didn't know anyone, Hermione stayed close to Severus. She was nearly bored out of her mind when Voldemort beckoned them and Lucius to follow him. No one seemed to be paying them much attention as they exited.

On the way, Hermione clutched her lover's elbow tightly and found herself unable to remove her eyes from the hem of the Dark Lord's cloak. She learned now where Severus learned his impressive trick of billowing his cloak. Just when she was about to give him the 'I know something you don't want me to know' look, Lucius led them into a room on the second floor. With a flick, he lighted the room and closed the doors. The merry voices from below were cut off immediately.

They were in a study. Voldemort lighted the fire and sat down in one of the leather armchairs. The other three did the same.

"Would you like a drink, Hermione?" Lucius asked.

"No, thank you," she replied tautly.

"That's almost like a swear word to my ears," Voldemort said. He looked even more foreboding than usual in the iridescent light.

Hermione smiled weakly. Never had she imagined that one day she would be sitting with two Death Eaters and hearing the Dark Lord joke. It was a little too much for one day.

"I heard that you're just out of school, Hermione?"

"That's right, sir."

Silence descended the group. Severus guarded his thoughts cautiously and glanced at the Dark Lord, who was watching his lover. It was too late to tell her to do the same.

"What do you know about our group, girl?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "What little information I have regarding the Death Eaters is mostly acquired from the newspaper and gossips among students-- not exactly what you'd call reliable sources. I know the ideology of the Dark is based on bloodlines, and I know the Dark strives to purge the wizarding world with every possible means. Like most people, I've grown to fear the Death Eaters, sir."

Severus' chest tightened at her words as he realized she was telling the truth. His Lord was obviously pleased, however.

"I treasure honesty when it is directed to me, Hermione." Voldemort looked pointedly at the other two men before continuing. "It seems to me that you're relatively uninformed about our cause. Severus?" He glanced sideways at his Potions Master.

"He doubted my loyalty, sir," Hermione said hastily. "I didn't know of his true identity until two weeks ago."

Severus grasped her hand gently, grateful that she wasn't a total imbecile. Voldemort took this as an apologetic gesture.

"Is that so? But of course, you're a Gryffindor," he hissed softly, paused, and sipped from his glass. "And a Muggle-born."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, trying hard to keep in her protest. The Dark Lord continued as though oblivious to her struggle.

"What you don't know-- or should I say, what the general public doesn't know-- is this: the Dark believes in the divinity of purebloods, but it receives baser bloods if they know their place and show brilliance and honor. After all, many purebloods today were halfbloods a few generations ago."

Severus knew she was surprised from the rigid way she was holding herself. Granted, it wasn't everyday an evil dark lord explain his philosophy to her. He was reminded of his younger self many years ago, sitting in the common room and leaning forward in the same eager manner. The only difference was that he was lured to the Dark side by the promise of knowledge, riches, prestige and power. He doubted that any of those, save perhaps the first, would possess much enticement to her.

"It'd be a pleasing change, too, to have a Gryffindor among the fold," Lucius commented. "Our last Gryff was Wormtail. The Slytherin lot is starting to bore me." He ached a playful brow at Severus.

"In that case, I shall assign you to more missions with Peter, Lucius," Voldemort said, pulling a grin as far as his skeletal face permitted.

"I must implore thy mercy, milord," Lucius replied with a lazy smirk, certain that his Lord would not consign him to such ill fate. Hermione again was overcome by a surrealistic feeling.

Severus, having spent much more time in the other two men's proximity, was unaffected. Taking a mouthful from his own glass, he asked practically, "What great plans do you intend for Hermione, Master, if she were to join--"

"If!" Voldemort snarled a laugh. "Severus, do you really have another choice? Tell me, is the old fool happy with your affiliation with a student?"

Severus knew he was caught and sighed in defeat. Hermione sat up straighter in anger.

"What do you specialize in, Hermione?" Voldemort turned to her suddenly.

She was unprepared to this abrupt change of topic. "I- I write and research well, and--"

"No, no." Lucius shook his head, and Hermione wondered why the man seemed so perpetually amused. "What Master meant is, what kind of curse do you specialize in. For example, Bella's infamous for her Crucio. Have you killed someone before?"

"Lucius," Severus interrupted curtly, warning underneath his words. His companion merely smirked at him.

"That's quite enough," said Voldemort, frowning briefly at Lucius. Then he added to Hermione, "He's just frolicking around."

Failing to see what was funny about the Unforgivables, she tilted her pale face up slightly nevertheless. Severus noticed her gesture, and groaned to himself about competitive, eager-to-prove-themselves Gryffindors.

"I think it's quite enough to have one scholar among our ranks--"

"Master, I--" Severus cut in hurriedly.

"We'll discuss your killing behavior, or the lack thereof, next time, Severus." Voldemort threw a quick look in his direction, and added some new logs into the fire with a flamboyant wave. "As I was saying, we don't need another scholar. Then obviously, we can't send you back as a spy-- you'll be so closely monitored you won't even be able to see a greasy lock of his-- and I don't want you two to be separated."

The gratefulness that flashed across her face was plain for all in the room to see.

"You know what, Lucius? I think I might not brand her."

No sooner had the words left the Dark Lord's lips than the blond man understood what his Master meant. He lowered his head deeply in a bow.

"You're most wise, my Lord. Narcissa will appreciate the company."

Hermione, on the other hand, did not appreciate the feeling of missing something. "Erm..." she started.

"My Lord, would it really be for the best, for Hermione to join our side?" Severus had more than sufficient excuses of why she shouldn't, but before he could articulate any of them he was cut off by a sharp tone.

"Severus, I would refrain from questioning your loyalty," snapped the Dark Lord. Then he added, hissing more slowly, "Your allegiance-- and hers-- is not a matter of choice. Remember, I am more than able to provide as much protection as that harebrained fool."

Severus bowed, carefully shielding his thoughts. "Your powers know no limit, Master," he murmured.

Voldemort made a dismissive gesture. Severus took the hint, helped Hermione up, and they left the room. As the oak door closed behind them, Voldemort turned to his right-hand man.

"You wouldn't believe our reputation these days, Lucius. It is beyond farcical."

"I'm all ears, Master."

"Just now in the girl's mind I glimpsed images of me randomly Crucio-ing my followers."

"Would you still have any if that were the case, my Lord? What do these people take us for, imbecilic twits as themselves?"

"I did manage to get a few ideas, outrageous as they may be," Voldemort replied, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "What do you say about an orgy, Lucius?"

"Master!" The other man winced as he put down his glass. "With all due respect, but most of us are married."

"Your point?"

"I'd prefer Narcissa to some screaming, disease-carrying Muggle any day, milord. I suspect the others think the same."

"You're right," said Voldemort thoughtfully. "And I'd really much rather you lot spend your time and energy on breeding more pureblooded offspring. Speaking of which, when are you having more heirs, Lucius?"

"Draco's proved to be enough trouble as it is, Master."

"Nonsense. You haven't even neared your middle age yet, let alone Narcissa. And look what a fine, obnoxious man Draco has grown into. I say you two try and get at least one more child."

"I think I will pass that responsibility to Draco, Master."

"That reminds me. How're the preparations going?"

"Satisfactory. Draco and Pansy just took their wedding photos last week. Ruth and Narcissa can't stop talking about it..."

And so, master and minion spent the night in front of the fire, discussing wedding plans.

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