a/n- Dedicated to Mr N. Melville.

I sincerely hope you appreciate it.

um.

Oh, and you other boys who wanted this, but didn't care to say.

Also, English, for saving it all from being thrown out during on of my infamous meltdowns. Return the favour and write us a review guys? Oh and just cause I've not yet done it, and don't really intend to do it again,

Disclaimer: The characters and whatever else are not mine. Just the plot of this particular story. I will return every thing after I play with them, but if its quite alright, I'd rather like to borrow Severus for just a itty bit longer afterwards.

Good now the boring bits outta the way. Also. . . Might go back a little bit later and do some editing. I will not be held responsible for any spelling mistakes I'm afraid. This entire thing was written on my phone with ¾ worth of damage to the screen.

I think I should note that there are some inappropriate references, and eventually the stories only gonna progress.

-twoface

Draco rose as she entered their Common Room -Dumbledore had paired the two together for the safety of Mr Malfoy and the pair had been living relatively peacefully together for a week and a half -.

"Piss break," he announced. Both Hermione's cringed at the crude language. Sighing, she took up residence where Draco had just lain and stretched herself out as comfortably as one could whilst lying on a couch.

From nowhere, Amelia Clearwater appeared in front of her. Some Death Eater she was. She couldn't even remember to lock a little first year out, magic or no.

She sat up and faced the child.

"Did you have a nightmare again?"

She nodded, tears still in her eyes from the bad dream.

" What about?"

"Y-You Kn-n-ow who."

Maybe it was because she was tired or she'd taken too much of her draught but Hermione snapped.

"YES! I DO BLOODY KNOW WHO! AND MAYBE YOU SHOULD GROW A PAIR AND SAY HIS FUCKING NAME! OH? YOU'RE HAVING NIGHTMARES? IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING THEM FOR THE LAST SIX YEARS OR ANYTHING! IT'S NOT LIKE HE TERRORISED YOU SINCE YOU WERE LITTLE AND KILLED YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY!"

It was then Draco walked in. "Granger. Shut up. Lay down.'

She did as she was asked and zoned out, letting Malfoy take care of the irritating child. Shutting her eyes, she rubbed her temple, and sighed. Hermione felt her memory's emotions rush over her.

Why? Why was she Head Girl? Why did she have to deal with small children she didn't give a toss about? Oh no. She had a nightmare. It wasn't like she had multiple every time she closed her eyes. It wasn't like she was so terrified of falling asleep, that she'd not had a full night's sleep since she was fourteen, courtesy a la The Triwizard Tournament.

Oh, right. She was in this position because she had to bow down and do anything and everything that was asked of her. She was in this position because she was submissive and inanely meticulous and the perfect little know it all everyone wanted her to be.

Why was she so stupid? Perhaps it was because -

"Wakey wakey, Granger. You can't sleep there," he announced. "Anyways. We have more important things to discuss." Hermione noted there was a hint of sincerity to his words.

"Now tell Uncle Draco what's got you so hot and bothered, besides my naturally good looks." She scoffed and he bit his lip, holding back laughter.

"I've got it." He announced happily, if slightly accusing. Evidently, proud of his deducing skills, he continued in a childlike singsong voice.

"Granger's still randy."

He cheerily picked up her legs and sat under them, dropping them heavily into his lap. She groaned and propped herself up onto her elbows and glared at him. Attempting to get up, she hit him in the face with her knees and gave up, plonking back down with a thud.

"Oh, my beautiful face," he whimpered, sarcastically.

Ignoring him, she spoke, choosing her words carefully.

"What's it to you, whether I've... a problem or not?"

Malfoy sighed.

"Granger, I live with you now, and you're more terrifying than my godfather. And we simply cannot have our lordly Slytherin Prince terrified of a an itty bitty Gryffindor girl. So please, before I have to spend the entire Malfoy fortune on psychiatric help with one of those muggle shrink things, tell me what exactly had got your knickers in a bunch."

She sat up, this time taking care not to hit his face. Standing up she turned to him.

"Your room or mine? I don't trust these bloody portraits," she asked wearily.

Draco laughed.

"Mine. I've a guest coming in about three minutes.

She followed him not bothering to ask who would be visiting him at this hour. She'd find out who it was soon enough.

They approached his door and he muttered his password.

"Mellon."

The Hermione' suppressed a smirk. Who knew Draco knew Tolkien's work?

Again she bit her tongue. They had very little time and she would not spend it discussing The Lord of the Rings.

Without waiting for an invitation, she plonked herself onto his bed as he closed his door. Turning, he motioned towards her.

"Can I look?"

For a split second Hermione was in shock, before she realised he was pointing at her left arm. She offered it to him without a thought and he took the two necessary steps to close the distance between them and dropped to kneel in front of her, in order to see her mark better. He took her arm and ran two fingers over it, tracing her skull, fingers gliding smoothly over her mark. He frowned as he saw that the skulls eyes were a blood red.

"Granger, question."

He rose from his position and sat hesitantly next to her. She nodded and he continued.

"How often do you. . ." He broke off, trying to think of a delicate way to ask the girl. It was probably the first time in his life the Slytherin had tried to be sensitive.

Somehow she understood. annoyed, she turned to him.

"What exactly, Draco Imogen Malfoy -she cringed at his middle name and suppressed the need to giggle,- Is the relevance between my mark and the frequency with which I attend myself?"

He sighed, ignoring her use of his middle name.

"Look at mine. Then look at yours."

She gasped.

Hermione didn't really know what it meant but found herself sobbing uncontrollably as she looked at her mark. He turned and embraced her just as his floo flared green and a pissed Potions Master stormed through the flames startling Hermione enough that she physically jumped away from Draco.

"Mr Malfoy. Miss Granger. Contrary to apparent belief, I am not rather a fan of voyeurism, so announce your reasoning immediately as to what the bloody hell justifies you waking me up at four in the morning before I deduct enough house points that Hufflepuff will have ample opportunity to win this years house cup."

He hadn't actually been asleep, but neither of them needed to know that he'd received the patronus his godson had sent in nothing but a towel.

Miss Granger, he noted stayed silent.

"Sir,"said Draco, . "Look at your mark."

Oh Merlin. It couldn't be.

Severus Snape lifted his sleeve to reveal a mark exactly the same as Hermione's. Red eyes and all.

No! No! No! No! No! No!

Surely the Dark Lord chose a different task to test her. Not this. Gods. Anything but this.

"Miss Granger, may I see your mark?" He asked cordially. It couldn't be true. It was a bad dream. He took her arm and saw that her skull was the same, damning shade of red as his own. Gods, please, he begged to whatever imaginary deity was listening to get him out of this.

"I always have to save you, don't I?" Snape grumbled. "I can't have one bloody night to myself, and now I'm getting punished. "

He retracted his arm and looked at her in her entirety. Her skin was lightly tinged a shade of red and her eyes were half closed. She was breathing heavily and absent mindedly biting her lower lip.

He could swear she was aroused.

Hermione looked at the Potions Master and wondered if it was at all possible to fuck someone inside a memory.