They had quickly left Avery at the Malfoy's and apparated to Paris.

Hermione tripped slightly as they landed, looking up into the pretty lights of the street. She recognized the square they had been in on their last visit. Suddenly, a small parcel was under her nose. She grabbed it roughly and made her way about 10 ft to the mailbox, irritated. 'Why do I have to do everything?' and with that thought going to the tip of her tongue, she put the parcel in the box, and turned ready for a fight. She stopped short.

Snape was on the ground writhing. She ran to him…he grunted, " Is there a patch on the back of my neck?"

She lifted his hair and nodded.

"Damn Avery! …I can't apparate. Use the portkey"

Hermione took Snape's hand and put it with hers on the handkerchief, and said, "Portus," and they were spinning.

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They hit the living room floor. Snape was twisting and grimacing.

"What…what is it?" Hermione asked raising her voice nervously.

"My new weapon … Avery…" Snape spoke in spurts, as he could, "A patch that makes the Crucio … ahg … go into … system and there's no cure, the person dies … pain."

"Can't I just give you a pain draught?"

"No…vomit … even … gets the potion down … need … something … stomach. Circular…hopeless…" He shook his head curling into a fetal position.

Hermione was hoping he was wrong. She went and got the pain draught, and gave it to him. He threw it up. Milk and water was the same.

"Stop! You're making it worse." Snape said choking it out in a gag. Hermione could see and feel he was clammy.

Watered down milk she thought … 'If I could just get something that digests almost immediately, and maybe mix it with the potion'. Just then, a thought ran through her mind briefly, but she dismissed it.

'Bezoar!' she went and got one, and got it down him; it seemed to work, then he threw it up, violently, and passed out.

Hermione kept coming back to her other thought, 'well he's not conscious, he'd never know I tried.' Deciding, she took her hands and rubbed them over her chest saying, "engorgio, mamilla, lactans" Immediately she tipped forward with the weight. She looked down; she was huge and DRIPPING.

She panicked, and then tried to calm herself, "It's fine Hermione, and besides you can always undo it."

She went and got a juice glass, squeezed her breast and the milk went into the glass; Hermione rolled her eyes, she felt like she was milking a cow, then she added a drop of pain potion to it.

He was out but still writhing. She felt his pulse it was going so fast, she thought, 'He's going to have a heart attack.' Lifting his head, she put the concoction to his lips, poured it in … and waited.

"Work, work, come on work, it's easy to digest, … it's easy…" She mumbled this out half praying, half coaching. She held her breath. There was gagging, but it stayed down! She did it again and tried to get more into the glass.

'You'd think this would be pouring out; they weigh a ton.'

She repeated the process three times. His convulsions slowed. She thought, 'okay if I can get enough in his stomach maybe I can get a small piece of bezoar in', but she couldn't do it with the glass method. She knew there were breast pumps, her cousin had talked about hers, but she had never seen one or the way it functioned, so transfiguring one was out.

She kept coming back to the inevitable. She hated the thought, and further more knew he would be livid.

She cursed the day she ever read The Grapes of Wrath.

Hermione looked at herself. Her breasts had literally popped out of her gown. The 'ball' seemed so far away now; her peace seemed so far away.

Snape had quieted for a second, so she ran up the steps, stripped off her dress with the body stocking, and put on her big shirt without doing it up. She started to run downstairs, but turned right back around and went to the bathroom. She peed quickly; washing her hands like any good dentists daughter would, and headed downstairs, milk dripping down her front all the way.

Working extremely quickly and efficiently, she snatched up the Bezoar, cracked it into smaller pieces, and then put that, the pain potion, and glass on the left end table. She sat down on that side of the couch, and said "Mobilicorpus." Snape levitated towards the couch. Ok, she had his feet on her lap and they were kicking. "Definitely the wrong end" she puffed a laugh, "this whole thing is laughable; if I don't laugh I'll cry."… She lifted herself and scooted down to the other end, and lowered him. His mouth was right at her nipple. "I can not do this," but her breasts disagreed; she was in a surreal situation.

'What if he bites?' she thought. "Accio bezoar," she caught it and put it on the other end table next to her. She did the same with the pain potion and glass. "Ok," she expressed a little milk into the glass, mixed it with a small amount of pain potion, and put it down his throat. He gagged, but kept it down. It was enough to quiet him.

"How could I have been so dumb? "Mobilicorpus." Snape lifted up, and she crawled under, running quickly to the kitchen. She got rubber gloves from under the sink and a plate. She ran back to him. Lifting the hair off the back of his neck, she ripped the patch off and put it on the plate saying, "Enavesco."

She then climbed back underneath to the couch and lowered him.

"Ok enough stalling. He's calm enough."

She took her breast, opened his mouth and shoved it in, ... nothing. "Snape, suck." ... Nothing. "Severus suck! Severus SUCK NOW!!" she gruffly yelled. He began to suck a little. "HARDER!" and he did. She looked at the wall, other breast dripping. "Here's to Steinbeck."

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Hermione managed to get him to feed on both breast, plus get the pain potion and bezoar down in between. There had been fumbling and some painful attempts, where apparently not enough of her breast was in his mouth, but the objective had been met, and her back was much eased with the loss of weight.

She looked down at Snape; he was calm and she felt strangely sleepy. She moved him upstairs to his room, and then got more supplies, plus some regular milk and water, hoping it would eventually work instead.

She was sleepy and her back hurt. It had been an odd feeling and in some strange way satisfying. She had been thirsty afterwards, and drank quiet a bit of water downstairs, bringing a glass with her. She thought it probably made sense, because she was loosing fluid. She put her head on the pillow next to him and slept.

She woke up disoriented, she was being kicked; his pain was starting again.

Hermione wondered if he was calm enough or was going to bite. She did her "glass thing" first like before, and then when he was calm, she fed him. It took her a shorter time to get him together.

He felt warm with fever. She needed to get his clothes off. "Divesto" she said and made a point not to look at his nakedness and then did a "Vesto" to put a nightshirt on him. She got him under the covers and then turned him to put his feet under as well. At this point, she looked down and noticed a big cut on his leg. It looked infected, with VERY red edges. 'Did he just get this or has he had it' she wondered. Well that really wasn't important, but she bet that was the cause of the fever.

She went down to the lab and got healing salve. If she could keep him hydrated, the fever would be good for killing the infection, as long as it didn't get too high.

Her back hurt, she needed a bra. She got to the top of the stairs went to her room and got one of her new bras, put it on as best she could, and transformed it to fit. She moaned, as the pressure lifted off her back.

She came in and sighed, 'Poor Snape is still on his side; well he can stay there a minute longer,' she thought, and turned to go down the stairs again. Then she stopped, 'Wait a minute, I'm a witch.' "Accio large bowl." There was some clanking and then the bowl was up the stairs and into her hands.

Hermione filled it with lukewarm water and got some wash clothes. Sponging him all down his back and legs, she turned him over, leaving a cool rag behind his head, and then did the same in front. She did see his privates as she washed there but tried not to think about it. Hermione remembered once, when she had a fever, her mother had left a cool cloth between her legs, so she did the same, along with the armpits.

Hermione was exhausted and needed more sleep. She went and lay down, this time sleeping lighter. When he began to move again, she woke and fed him right away. She was starting to get a routine with pillows and positions, the medicines and the milk and water. This time there was a little gagging but it stayed down. 'Good', she thought. She rung out his washcloths with cooler water and replaced them. He was still warm.

It was getting light out, and she was hungry and thirsty. Hermione thought 'I've got to get out of this room.' She went downstairs and ate some leftovers, and drank a huge amount of water; now she needed to pee.

Leaving the bathroom, she thought, 'this is never ending. This must be what it's like to have a baby; drink, pee, drink, pee.' Her eyes swelled with tears; her life was all backwards: hymen gone, still a virgin; breast-feeding, without a baby. 'God help me.' She closed her eyes, and drifted, while praying for help.

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Snape shot up, his eyes open not seeing, holding his arm. Hermione looked down. It was the dark mark. It was changing from red to a dark black and getting deeper and more raised by the minute. He was 'being called.' Hermione thought quickly about what choices she had; she had heard Snape indicate that if you ignore it, it just gets more intense.

She got dressed. Severus only had on his nightshirt, she quickly Vesto'ed pajama bottoms. Hermione got her portkey from the night before and put it in her pocket. Then she took Snape's wand, put it in his hand, and touched the mark; they apparated.

"Severus, what was the delay … Mudblood what have you done?" Hermione was cradling Snape in her arm, but her head bent low.

"Dark Lord, Master Snape is ill."

"Ill? What from?" Voldemort's voice was shrill.

Hermione could feel the beginning of his legilimens and occluded Paris, but put forth Avery gripping Severus' neck, Snape telling her about Avery and the weapon, suddenly the feeling was gone.

"Avery come forth," Voldemort bellowed in a voice that shook Hermione to the core. She saw Avery crawling on his hands and knees, cowering; she thought if he were anyone else, she would feel pity.

"You stole from me, and tried to kill my most loyal servant!"

Avery stammered, but no words came.

"Since you apparently have an affinity for the weapon, come here" Voldemort pointed to his feet, but Avery did not move.

Motioning to the Death Eaters, Voldemort said, "Bring the coward here to me."

Voldemort dawned gloves, opened a tin next to him, pulled out a piece of cloth and stood. He then pushed down Avery's hood, gripped the Death Eater's head, slapped the patch on his neck, and said, "Lock him up in the farthest dungeon. He will die in excruciating pain … alone." Avery began to writhe. "Please master…Avada Kedavra."

"No Mercy."

"She … lies … my Lord," his words were broken with pain.

"I watched you, Avery," Voldemort motioned to the guards to take him. They carried Avery away screaming; Hermione flinched as he passed.

The Dark Lord looked at Hermione holding Snape, who was unconscious but nuzzling into her breast. Hermione watched the direction of the gaze; Snape was hungry.

"Leave us," the Dark Lord commanded, looking at Bellatrix and Wormtail, "Everyone."

When they had left, Voldemort addressed her.

"Mudblood, how have you saved him from something that should have no recovery?"

"It is hard for me to say, my Lord… Will you … look?"

She could feel him inside her head, and she saw the last 48 hours flash before her.

"Ingenious. Your breasts give life; even now he wants them."

"It is close to feeding time, my Lord"

"Why did you not escape? Why did you not let him die?"

"I … I couldn't."

"You are a true Gryffindor."

"Yes sir."

"But more than that kept you. Do you love him?"

Hermione fell silent, confused at the leap of logic.

"Speak."

"I do not know, my Lord."

"Your actions speak differently."

Severus started to groan and tremble.

"Take him. I will not call. Tell Severus to come to me when he is well …you may ask a limited favor, Severus' woman." Hermione was shocked at the change in terms. She thought quickly, but she knew better than to ask for freedom, etc. She hesitated a minute, then spoke, "Dark Lord, thank you for this honor. I would ask something for my Master."

"Go on."

"Could you keep the knowledge of the … 'feeding' from all of your servants and not speak of it to him either? I am sorry to be so bold, but I would not want him ridiculed for something he had no control over."

"Again, you impress me. Your actions speak loudly, woman. I will honor your request."

"You honor both me and my Snape." She covered her mouth and lowered her head more, "I mean Master."

Laughing out loud, Riddle said "No you didn't … you may go."

Hermione pulled out her portkey.

"What is that?" Voldemort said with accusation.

Hermione was frightened. "Master gave it to me before the ball. It only leads to the house. He gave it to me in case I got into a 'difficult' position." She lowered her head.

"Hmmm…very wise; again even HIS actions speak loudly." Hermione raised her head and looked at Voldemort with surprise at the revelation. "You were brave to come here, Severus' woman. Now go."

She put the portkey in both their hands and spun, suddenly finding herself sitting on the floor with Snape still in her lap. He was hungry, so she undid her blouse and rubbed her nipple near his mouth. He turned and latched on, sucking hard. She looked up and felt the tingling; he began gulping. She sat there in silence, staring at the legs of the furniture in front of her, and holding her clothes to her other leaking breast.

It had gone better than expected. She had taken a chance, and it had paid off. Avery was probably close to death; she closed her eyes, gulping, remembering Snape's pain.

Voldemort's pleasure made her skin crawl, but she wasn't such a Gryffindor that she didn't see its benefits.

He called her 'Severus' woman.' It was a step up from 'mudblood whore,' that was for sure. But how could anyone be so far from humanity as to think every time you show some kindness you were in love? Please.

'Me and my Snape.' Where did that come from? She blushed pink – 'I'm just stressed.'

She looked down at him. "If you'd been awake, you'd have probably vomited all over me. Hmmf…your immortal words from the first night I believe." Hermione all of sudden felt sick, boxed in, and panicked. She pushed him off and spelled him up stairs, getting him into bed. She just needed a breather; she looked at him in disgust.

She went and got a quick shower and looked over at the toilet tank. 'I had my chance; I'm an idiot. Now, I'm talking to Voldemort, asking him for things…Oh man, I am so messed up.'

She began to pace. Everything was all … up side down in her mind. He had hit her, wiped away her tears, called her a filthy mudblood, and then ate her cooking. He had made her call him master, and then used it to deceive Voldemort. Then at the ball…the way he walked behind her, and gave her the portkey. He had treated her with disrespect in front of Lucius, yet was so possessive, and dressed her…between a wife and a whore; 'Severus' woman.' She didn't want to examine why every time that phrase entered her mind there was a visceral reaction to its rightness. Then the way he stroked her hair, and that dream…that dream. How can you have a can of shrimp in your pocket one minute and save his life from a shrimp h'orduerve the next? She started to laugh, thinking of herself diving over everyone for the 'enemy shrimp wrap.' The laughter got fiercer until her stomach hurt and tears were running down her face.

After her shower, she needed to nurse on the other side. It was a little harder to get started; she was procrastinating and had lost her objectivity. "Definitely approach avoidance on this one, Granger. Get on with it". She checked his leg; it was not red and healing nicely. She removed the urinal from between his legs where she had learned to prop it. Thank goodness, she had seen one of those before at the nursing home where her grandpa was after his fall.

Oh, that's something she could do: leg exercises. A small voice said 'Procrastinating, Granger.' She looked at his legs; she'd do it later. Her breast was getting hard; she was going to get significantly off schedule. She went to bed, and fed him.

'See, I can do this." She brushed his lank black hair away from his eyes, and drifted to sleep thinking somewhere in the back of her mind that not many had seen him this at peace and beautiful.