For the Potions Master's Amusement
Chapter 65: Intrusion
The days that followed were formless and tasteless, as if all savour had been removed from her life. She missed him—she always missed him, both in body and in spirit, for though he was lean and hard inside and outside, he was still the perfect cradle for her body and her soul, her deepest self. But she also missed her purpose, her quest. Her assignment was complete; Harry had in his possession exactly the tools he needed to defeat Voldemort—hopefully!—and now Hermione had nothing to do, save study for her NEWTs.
Yet for all her vaunted bookishness, she found her concentration severely wanting. The people whom she loved most dearly in all the world were far away from her, carrying out the work she had been part of almost since the first moment she had known she was a witch, yet she was … uninvolved. She was, in fact, banished to this mansion in Grosvenor Square, London, cooling her heels—as good as a prisoner. She tried not to dwell on the truth of her house arrest too much, but it played a large part in her dreams, which were troubled with helplessness and plagued her with an ever-present sense of oppression, as if she could not draw in a deep enough breath.
So she fell into a routine, and after a while, she began to find comfort there. She was up each morning for breakfast, and after she ate, she accompanied one of her housemates to visit t at St Mungo's. Taffy had indeed grown irritable, weary of bed rest, but she was almost pathetically grateful for the company when her friends arrived, and she happily knitted and gossiped about all the doings at Roissy House and in the hospital.
'It's party weekend,' t said to Hermione on Thursday morning as they knitted tiny socks. 'What are you going to wear?'
Hermione dropped a stitch and cursed under her breath. 'I don't know,' she said, correcting her mistake. 'I haven't thought about it.'
Kell set aside her own badly knit cap and dug in her handbag for a piece of chewing gum. 'She's been a bit depressed ever since Master Severus' last visit,' Kell reported shrewdly. 'And who could blame her?'
Taffy leaned over to touch Hermione's hand. 'I'm sure they're all right,' she said.
Hermione looked up with a quick smile. Taffy's fair hair was plaited, a look which made her appear years younger than her actual age, and her eyes were shadowed. Hermione took t's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. 'I just miss him,' she said. 'You know how that feels.'
Taffy nodded sympathetically. 'But at least we got to see them for a bit last weekend,' she said.
Hermione nodded. Rafe had been to visit t at the hospital when Severus had been at Roissy House. She sat a bit straighter and took up her knitting again. 'I'm sure they're fine,' she said, trying to sound surer than she felt.
'There!' Vi said, putting the last touch on the blanket she had been knitting.
The other girls admired the soft yellow blanket, and Vi stood to cross to the dresser against the wall, where the completed and folded pieces of the layette were arrayed. Vi placed the newly finished blanket on the top of a small stack of similar items and pursed her lips. 'This is going to be the best outfitted baby in all of wizarding Britain,' she said. 'But it may be time to move on from knitting to sewing.'
'Oh, I'm even worse at sewing than at knitting!' Kell lamented, looking dismally at the misshapen cap on her lap.
Taffy laughed, and at the sound, Hermione felt her heart lighten. For all the time she had spent hating 'Miss Smith' and being suspicious of her, since they had become friends, she had found t to be a very comforting presence in her life. The other girl had a sweetness of spirit that soothed and calmed her.
'Well, we'll just have to start making things for your babies!' t said cheerfully.
Kell's mouth dropped open. 'You're the pregnant one!' she said. 'None of us have babies!'
Taffy looked about at her friend's faces. 'But you want babies, don't you? I know you do, Vi,' she said, and Vi nodded once and looked away.
'And Kell? Don't you want to have a sweet wee one?' t cajoled.
Kell looked uncomfortable. 'Someday, yeah,' she said. 'But I can't even get the Dominant thing straight in my head yet, so babies are the last thing on my mind.'
'But Master David is coming back this weekend, isn't he?' Hermione said, watching Kell's face curiously.
'Oh, I like him!' t enthused. 'Are you going to accept him, Kell?'
Vi moved across the room and stopped behind Kell, laying a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. 'Kelly and Master David are still becoming acquainted with one another,' she said quietly. 'There's no hurry to make a decision.'
Kell looked up at Vi, and Hermione was sure she saw both surprise and gratitude in Kell's expression. 'I like him a lot, too,' Kell admitted. 'But I'm just not completely sure about him, yet.'
Taffy sighed. 'I remember when I knew I wanted to belong to my Master,' she said. 'There's nothing sweeter.'
'Or more desperate,' Hermione added, drawing all eyes to her.
'I agree,' Vi said.
Kell bit her lip and looked down, and Hermione's heart ached for her friend.
On Friday night, Hermione dressed in the red cocktail dress her Master had provided for the Valentine's Day weekend and went down to dinner with a determined smile on her lips. It had been a relief this week to be able to communicate again with her professor through the journal, though his replies had been very brief, until tonight.
little one,
Wear your Gryffindor red dress, paint your pretty lips to match, and go amongst the D/s community with your head held high, knowing that you are very much on my mind tonight and that I am with you in spirit. Do not climax tonight; instead, write to me of everything you observe at the dinner dance. You will receive further instructions for tomorrow.
Your Master,
SS
She held his words to her like an extra layer of clothing, feeling him at her side as she mingled with the guests and exchanged pleasantries. For some reason, Reg stayed near her.
'Have you been assigned to watch me?' she asked as he slipped into the seat beside her at dinner.
He snorted impolitely. 'No,' he replied shortly, bending his dark, curly head over the soup.
Yet he trailed her to the large receiving room after dinner, where the orchestra played and the people danced. In a shadowed corner, there was a freckled, ginger-haired Dominant who reminded Hermione forcibly of Ron, busily sucking the nipples of a large-breasted woman through her very thin evening dress—but otherwise, they might have been at a Ministry Gala.
'Will you dance with me?' Reg asked tersely, and Hermione went with him willingly, wanting the evening to pass quickly. Being here without her Master made her miss him deeply, and although most of the people were behaving with perfect decorum, she could feel the strong sexual undercurrent in the room, and it made her quim ache. She did her best to keep her eyes from straying to the couple groping in the corner, but it was difficult not to watch them.
'I wonder what Hadrian will do if those two get after it right here on the floor?' Reg mused, and Hermione saw that the woman's breasts were now exposed, her halter top untied and hanging about her waist as the ginger-haired man continued to ravage her nipples.
'Don't talk about it,' Hermione said, turning her eyes resolutely away, trying to ignore the way her nipples had puckered against the fabric of her red dress, longing for her Master's cruel, clever fingers.
'Right you are,' Reggie replied, and they danced slowly to the other end of the room, away from the couple whose activities were drawing a bit of a crowd of observers. Then Reg's good-natured tone hardened, and Hermione followed his gaze as he spoke. 'Why watch the nipple-sucking wonder when we can just watch that great git grope our Kell?'
Kell and her big Quidditch player were in a clinch near the orchestra dais, their arms tightly wrapped about each other, Master David with his lips at Kell's ear.
'If you don't want to see her dance with him, why don't you ask her?' Hermione asked, her tone one of exaggerated patience, as if she were speaking to someone who was not quite bright. 'She isn't likely to ask you, is she? I mean, Claudius has rules against that, right?'
Reggie pulled back slightly and stared down into her face. 'What do you know about that?' he demanded.
'Only what you told me my first night here,' she answered. 'Back then, she wasn't allowed to be in a room with you unless Claudius was present.'
Reg's lips twisted into a rueful smile. 'Yeah, I remember.'
The dance ended, and he began to lead her toward the chairs around the walls of the room. Hermione glanced around and saw Master David in conversation with two Dominants whose names Hermione could not remember. Kell looked a bit at a loss, and Hermione dug her elbow into Reggie's side.
'Go!' she said, jerking her head in Kell's direction. 'Ask her now—he's ignoring her!'
Reg gave Hermione a look of mixed hope and exasperation. 'You'll be the death of me.'
Hermione chuckled to herself as he strode off in Kell's direction. 'I'll be the making of you, silly git,' she murmured to herself.
The next day seemed to drag, and she avoided the dining room downstairs, not really wanting to socialise with the guests. She spent the morning trying to revise, then gave up and spent the afternoon reading for pleasure. The Story of O and the doings at the real Roissy house held her spellbound and made her miss her Master keenly. She regularly checked her journal for her Master's handwriting, and at mid-afternoon, she finally saw it.
little one,
Your report of last evening's activities was well done. These are your instructions for tonight: Wear your black negligee and observe in the Dungeon. You are permitted to come as many times as you wish—IN the Dungeon. I don't mind who watches you, or if you prefer to hide in one of the darkened alcoves to touch your hot clit, just keep in mind that no one is permitted to touch you while you masturbate. You are required to come at least once in the Dungeon, but there are no limits on how many times you can orgasm. When you have completed your assignment, go to our room, and without washing yourself, take up your quill and write to me of your experiences. I will await your report, my own.
Your Master,
SS
Hermione stared down at his imperative, spiking script. She had to come in the Dungeon? She began to twirl a hank of hair about her forefinger. What if she couldn't? What if she couldn't get up the courage to touch herself amongst all those people? Or what if she did find the wherewithal to masturbate in public and couldn't orgasm?
She rose from her chair with a sigh and walked into the bathroom. Life with him was never going to be either simple or comfortable. If she ever became comfortable, it would be his job to challenge her—to push her limits. Well, this assignment would definitely push her limits—and if she was going to be flashing the play-party attendees tonight, she had best see about removing unwanted body hair.
She didn't go downstairs until well after dinner. She had been mildly tempted to stay in her room, but she knew she couldn't bear to disappoint her professor again. So she applied her make-up and gave her hair a good brushing and tried not to look at herself below her chin.
Vi approached her when she reached the ground floor. The blond woman was lovely in a sheer, silvery cat suit which concealed nothing of her body. She wore ridiculously high-heeled silver shoes, and her hair flowed about her shoulders like silk.
'You're so pretty!' Hermione said impulsively.
Vi paused as if surprised by the compliment, then smiled sweetly. 'You're kind to say so,' she said softly, glancing to one side, as if to make sure they would not be overheard. 'Master loves me in this, but I feel so … fat.'
Hermione chuckled. 'No worries there!'
Vi stepped closer. 'Are you all right? Hadrian was about to send me up to find you.'
'I'm fine,' Hermione said. 'I just have an assignment tonight, and I'm a bit embarrassed by it.'
Vi nodded sympathetically. 'Do you want to tell me what it is?'
Hermione blushed and shook her head. 'No, thanks.'
Vi smiled and patted her shoulder. 'Just remember that whatever it is, every submissive in the room has probably had to do the same thing, or something like it, so no one will be thinking badly of you for it.'
Hermione looked up, a sudden smile spreading across her face. 'I didn't think of it that way!' she said excitedly. 'You're right!' She gave Vi a quick hug, being careful where she put her hands. 'Thank you!'
The doorkeeper allowed Hermione into the Dungeon, and as she descended, she looked about for familiar faces. The St Andrew's Cross was empty as she passed it, but there was a crowd gathered about farther into the room. She could see slender white arms bound at the wrists and secured to a heavy silver hook which hung from the ceiling on a chain. An ebony haired woman who appeared to be about Professor Snape's age luxuriated—there was no other word for it—beneath the lash of a whip.
Hermione approached the circle, and realised why there was such a huge open area—because the black-shirted Dominant, who wore a jaunty yellow silk scarf tied about his forehead to absorb sweat and to keep his hair out of his face, needed the clear area to manoeuvre about the submissive with the four-foot long whip in his hands.
Hermione eased around the edge of the group, trying to find a vantage point from which she could watch. She had seen someone use a whip on her first visit to the Dungeon, and her professor had made it clear to her that mastery of the single-tail whip required hours and hours of practice. He said that he had never possessed the patience to acquire the skill, though he knew a number of Dominants whom he would judge to be experts. Hermione had felt surprised to learn there was something about discipline implements Severus Snape was not the master of—and she had also been just a touch disappointed, for watching the whipping had aroused her.
She saw that there was a physical perimeter, created by the simple use of folding chairs, which had been placed around the area in which the Dominant moved, bringing the whip over his head with a resounding crack, then striking the submissive's back, drawing a moan from her and a murmur of approval from the crowd. There was one section missing a chair, making a passage through which the circle could be entered and exited. Standing at the opening was Kell, pretty in her green suspender belt and silky stockings, with her party weekend feather in her dark hair. Kell watched the demonstration raptly, almost as if she weren't breathing, and standing behind her with his arms crossed over his broad chest was Master David. Just behind the couple stood Claudius, watching the players with professional interest, and when he caught sight of Hermione, she was surprised to see his face relax into a very slight smile.
'We were wondering if you would come down,' he said to her. 'Good girl!'
Hermione couldn't help but grin at this praise, which her Master used with her to good effect—but it just wasn't the same, coming from Vi's Master. Claudius had always seemed so cold to her, but so had Vi, and she was coming to know Vi had a very sweet, quiet nature. Perhaps Claudius was nice as well … deep, deep inside.
He gestured to the whipping demonstration. 'Did you want to watch? Come, stand in front of me, where you can see properly.'
'Yes, thank you,' she replied, and she slipped past Claudius to a clear view of the man and the woman in the circle. She was disappointed to see that the demonstration had just that moment ended, for the man with the yellow scarf released the submissive from her bindings and handed her over to a waiting Dominant. The Dominant received his woman into his arms and carried her past Hermione, murmuring praise into her ear.
'Who's next?' a cheerful voice demanded, and Hermione was shocked to realise she knew the expert whip wielder—it was Reggie!
'Reg!' she breathed, completely dumbfounded. Who would have thought Reggie Bardulph, who seemed so lazy in his practice of D/s, would have put in the hours of continual practice necessary to make him an expert in this area?
'I was surprised he volunteered to demonstrate tonight,' Claudius said in a musing, conversational tone, whilst Reg drank a tall glass of water and bantered with the crowd. 'He hasn't had much heart for it since …'
Hermione looked up quickly, but Claudius' gaze slid away from her face, and he finished, 'He hasn't been interested in public play for quite some time.'
Reg Vanished the glass from which he'd been drinking and stepped closer to the chairs forming the protective barricade. From the one just in front of Kell, he picked up a clean white towel and dried his sweaty face.
'How about you?' he said to her, his tone low, intimate, and Kell's face flushed pink. 'As I recall, you had quite a fondness for my whip, Kay.'
Hermione felt like a voyeur watching this interchange, more of an intruder on their privacy than she had felt watching outright sexual acts in this room. As Hermione watched, Kell glanced over her shoulder, and though Master David opened his mouth to speak, it was Claudius to whom Kell was looking for permission.
There was a beat of silence, as Claudius looked Reg up and down, and then his cool blue gaze returned to his trainee, and for the first time, Hermione saw something approaching affection pass between Kell and her Dominant. 'If you wish, petite,' Claudius murmured, and Kell slipped between the chairs and was in the circle with Reg, her tip-tilted nipples hard with the cold—or was it with excitement?
The Quidditch player turned to Claudius with anger in his expression. 'What are you playing at?' he demanded in an undertone.
'Kelly has played with Master Reg before,' Claudius said serenely, turning a dismissive shoulder to the towering Master David and touching Hermione on the shoulder, urging her forward. 'Now you'll see something special,' he promised. 'These two work well together.'
Kell stood submissively before Reg, as if her eyes saw no one else, and though Reg spoke to her quietly, Hermione was close enough to hear his words.
'You know the rules, kitten,' he said to her, reaching to unfasten the top of one stocking from the suspender belt. 'Your legs must be as bare as your bottom if you want a whipping from me.'
Hermione couldn't hear Kell's response, which was spoken with averted eyes, but Reg squatted before her and rolled the stockings down her long, smooth legs before dropping them on the floor, where they were soon joined by the suspender belt. Now Kell wore only the silly green feather and her training collar, and Reg took her hand and led her to stand beneath the hook, where he bound her wrists and secured them over her head.
Then he offered her the leather handle of the whip, and Kell kissed it. She and Reg looked into each other's eyes, and he spoke to her, his voice now pitched for Kell alone. Kell's lips moved, and Reg kissed her mouth, lightly but thoroughly. He's courting her, Hermione thought, feeling her own heartbeat increase with the growing tension between the black-clad Dominant and his submissive. He's wooing her.
'I'm beginning now,' Reg said clearly, and those standing nearest to the chair barricade moved back a step.
When Reg raised the whip and set it to swirling, Hermione was breathless with admiration. She had never paid much mind to Reg's body, but it was more muscular than she might have expected of someone who projected such indolence, and he moved with grace as he began to whip the witch he so obviously wanted for his own.
Then Hermione ceased to think of them as Reg and Kell; she gave herself over to watching the snapping, stinging tail of the leather whip as it danced over the submissive's arching, swaying torso, and every whimper from her made Hermione's quim ache. The Dominant moved about his subject as if she were the centre of his universe, the star in whose orbit he was destined to circle, scattering blows between her shoulders and her knees, front and back, his touch deft and sure. Bright pink flares of colour appeared on the submissive's fair skin, and Hermione knew that some of those stripes would remain, leaving bruises that would be the submissive's reminders of her session with this man.
Now the tempo of the blows increased, flicking her inner thighs, wrapping about her hip and slapping her shaved pudendum. She cried out, begging for more, her control dissolving beneath the hands of this whip master, and Hermione found herself swaying where she stood, her nipples aching, her quim slick with want. Her Master could not use this implement, but he would allow her to be whipped by someone he trusted, so that she might have the experience—and dear Circe, right now, she wanted it.
At last, after a mere fifteen minutes that seemed like an hour, Reg lay down his whip and stepped up to Kell, his hands infinitely gentle, stroking up her flanks as he praised her, his words too quiet to be heard, but his tone clear. Kell leaned into him, burying her face in his neck, and he reached up to release her wrists, then swung her up against his chest. Hermione wondered how Master David would react to Reg marching past with Kell in his arms, but Reg was really much cleverer than she had given him credit for. He walked away from where Hermione, David, and Claudius stood, and a chair moved obediently out of his way as he carried his prize into a darkened alcove.
Hermione smiled to herself, thrilled for her friends, but with most of her attention elsewhere—she had an assignment to complete, and she had best attend to it while she was in the mood.
With a murmured excuse to Claudius, she slipped through the crowd, following the path Kell and Reg had taken, as if she were drawn to witness the completion of the act they had begun with the single-tail whip. I won't watch them, she though distractedly, shame flushing through her body at the mere thought. I'll just listen … there's no harm in listening.
She slipped into the shadows and glanced about, listening for her friends, her hands already at her breasts, pinching her hard nipples through the diaphanous black fabric of her lingerie. There they were—in the darkest corner, where Reggie was applying a soothing oil to Kell's hurts—and to other sensitive spots, to judge by Kell's sounds. Hermione crept as close as she dared, finally taking up residence on a love seat whose back was toward the couple. Oh, it was shameful to invade their privacy—but they had made her a part of their interaction, performing so erotically before her very eyes, and she felt that she had to be in on the culmination, even if only peripherally. She sprawled on the loveseat, unmindful of her surroundings, her eyes closed as she listened to the moans and murmurs of the lovers behind her. She pushed the tiny knickers of her ensemble aside and began to rub her clitoris, biting her lip to keep from making a sound and giving herself away to her friends.
Behind her closed eyes, she saw the whip kissing her skin, and in her mind, it was her Master who wielded the whistling, braided leather. With his single-minded determination, he flicked the whip over her skin, and she fingered her cunt as she imagined it, allowing herself to listen in greedily to the sounds of Reg and Kell, his voice firm, commanding, her whispers and moans of arousal feeding Hermione's frenzy. Then Kell cried out and Hermione climaxed, biting her lip until it bled to keep herself quiet.
She rolled to one side, pressing her knees together to keep the contractions of her unruly quim contained; sometimes, when she climaxed too hard or too quickly, it could set off what felt like clitoral spasms—painful, but not harmful. The rough texture of the loveseat fabric abraded her nipples, and she rocked against it, wanting more, wanting her Master's big, hard cock up her cunt right now.
Over stimulated, her hand was between her slick thighs again, but this time, she thrust into herself with her fingers, doing what she could to substitute for her Master's cock. Two fingers, then three, the heel of her hand pressing on her clitoris, thinking of her Master fucking her from behind, as he had in this very room, and hearing now the slap of flesh against flesh—Reggie and Kell were doing it, too. Concentrating, she listened to their sounds, him instructing, commanding, her answering, the sounds of their bodies joining bringing Hermione clear memories of her times with her professor, making her want him very badly. She frigged herself, her free hand now moving down to rub her clitoris, driving toward another climax.
'Good girl—good, good girl,' she heard Reg say, and the words were like a catalyst for her. She came with a loud, moaning exhalation, unable to constrain herself, and as she rolled onto her back, breathing quickly, heart racing, she hoped Kell and Reg were having so much fun they hadn't heard her.
Then she realised two men were standing over her.
'Leave them alone, David,' Claudius' voice said, and Hermione could hear the warning in his tone—could not Master David hear it, too?
'Well, look at this one,' David said, and Hermione sat up, carefully covering herself with her negligee as best she could. 'Do you think she could use some help?'
Claudius took the younger man firmly by the arm and moved him out of the alcove. 'Can't you see her collar, man? That's Severus Snape's collared submissive!'
'Oh,' Master David said, and his tone spoke volumes to Hermione. Master David hadn't recognised her, but he knew who her Master was, and he had no desire to give offence.
Once again fully cognizant of her surroundings, Hermione listened for Kell and Reg, but she could no longer hear the slick slapping of flesh on flesh, nor did she hear their voices. She was startled then when they paused before her, hand in hand, and looked down at her with concern on their faces.
'All taken care of?' Reg asked, and though there was plenty of fodder for teasing, there was none in his tone. He was behaving like a real Dominant, and Hermione scarcely knew how to answer him.
Kell bent down and kissed Hermione's cheek. 'She's fine,' Kell said, and Hermione gave her a quick nod.
What a night! she thought, moving stealthily through the shadowy edges of the room and up first to the ground floor, then to her room.
And with two hands fragrant of her own arousal, she took up her quill and sat down to make her report in her journal.
Hermione went down for brunch the next day, and she smiled to see Kell sitting in Reg's lap, being fed from his plate and sharing smouldering looks and frequent kisses. She noticed that Vi and Elinore were watching the couple as well, but neither of them looked completely happy with the turn of events.
What do they know that I don't? Hermione wondered.
Master David came into the dining room but turned on his heel and walked out when he saw Kell on Reg's knee. Kell bounced up, looking stricken. 'David!' she called and started to the door.
'Let him go, Kay,' Reg said, but to Hermione's ears, he sounded uncertain, as if he weren't sure letting Master David walk out was the best course of action.
'But I should say sorry, or something,' Kell said, clearly distressed. 'He came up here this weekend to see me, and …'
She looked anxiously at Reg, and Hermione held her breath, waiting to see what he would do.
His face flushing scarlet, Reggie stood and threw his napkin on the table. 'Then chase after him, why don't you?' he snapped and strode out of the room.
Hermione heard Vi's audible sigh, and when she glanced down the table, she saw that Elinore was shading her eyes with her hand, as if the sight before her was too painful to watch.
Kell paid no attention to her friends at the table; she burst into tears and ran out of the room.
Monday saw the return of business as usual at Roissy House, except that Reg disappeared again, and Kell went about looking as if her best friend had died. Vi and Elinore spent time clustered around Kell, talking to her, but Kell simply sat with her head bowed and did not answer them.
The other missing component of business as usual was in Hermione's journal—her professor had not responded to her account of spying on Kell and Reg and getting off, listening to their lovemaking, nor had he sent any fresh instructions for her. It wasn't the first time he had missed a day or two in communicating with her, but her enforced sequestration made her feel marooned and out of touch with the world.
She read the Prophet each day from cover to cover, searching out mention of things that could be war related, but she saw nothing of consequence. By Wednesday, she was ready to jump out of her skin, and even the visits to t in the hospital were halted, because Vi was under the weather, and Kell had no interest in leaving her room, much less going to St Mungo's. Hermione found herself pacing up and down the long corridor on the ground floor, imagining Harry and Ron working the counter-spell to unmake Voldemort's body, trying to sort out from whence the danger would come to her love, and feeling the furious uselessness roiling through her veins like failure.
They were at dinner that night when Pitty came into the dining room and spoke to Hadrian.
'Master Reggie is here,' Pitty said, bowing low and speaking to her feet, 'and he would like for Miss Kell to come out to the hall and speak to him.'
Kell stood, her face flushing bright red, then almost instantly fading to ghastly white. Hermione half-rose from her seat, wondering if Kell was going to faint.
'Well I won't!' Kell cried, and she stamped one foot.
Claudius looked up wearily, his lips parted to speak a reprimand, but Vi placed a hand on his wrist and said calmly, 'It's not an unreasonable request, Kelly. It's not as if anything is resolved between you.'
Kell turned a mutinous gaze on Vi, but Elinore spoke up now.
'You can't play with a Dom and love with a Dom and quarrel with him without ever talking things out, Kell—grown up people sort out their troubles, for better or worse.'
Kell looked desperately unhappy, but she was finding no support amongst her housemates.
'It took a lot of courage for him to come back to see you,' Hermione said softly. 'You can at least talk to him.'
Wisely, Hadrian and Claudius kept their own counsel, allowing the submissives to counsel Kell, and at last, Kell stalked out of the dining room into the corridor. Very shortly, raised voices could be heard.
'What would you say to a spot of brandy and a game of chess?' Hadrian said to Claudius with a wry smile.
'I say "yes"—and how about a Silencing Charm, as well?'
Elinore invited Vi and Hermione up to her and Hadrian's room for tea, but Hermione declined, pleading the need to revise. Perhaps when she got to her room, she would find a note from her professor …
She could hear Reg and Kell's voices until she reached the first landing up to her room, and then it was quiet. She took up her Potions textbook, intending to revise, but she found herself simply staring into the fire, thinking of nothing in particular.
It was here that Pitty found her a short time later, popping into the room and beginning to speak before Hermione had properly registered the little creature's presence.
'Miss!' Pitty cried, and Hermione turned to look at her, thinking it was something about Kell and Reg—maybe they wanted her to come down and referee for them, but she wouldn't do it!—but Pitty looked frantic, as she had done the night she brought Hermione the bloody book bag. Hermione rose from her chair, falling on her knees before the elf, looking her over desperately for signs of blood.
'No, Miss,' Pitty cried, backing away from Hermione, 'Pitty is having a message from Master Severus!'
Hermione sat back on her heels, her heart beginning to race. 'What is it?' she asked, breathlessly.
'Miss is to go to the hospital to be with Mistress Taffy,' Pitty said, her voice trembling as she hurried to get the words out. 'Miss is to take her wand and to protect Mistress Taffy from the Death Eaters!'
Death Eaters!
Hermione scrambled up, her wand slipping smoothly from her sleeve into her hand, and without wondering if she would be able to Disapparate, she turned on the spot and was gone.
Safely away from Roissy House, Hermione was not there to witness the moment when the front door of the mansion opened, and Simon Curtis, lately of the D/s community in Sussex, entered the Secret-Kept house, followed by two black-cloaked figures, who pulled masks over their faces as they stepped into the foyer.
