Author's Note: Now, these next few chapters will be rough for those who don't like that sort of thing! Sorry! And to those of you who review, bless you.

Snape's world was precariously close to crumbling beneath his feet as he peered into the petrified face of Hermione Granger. Jeers and catcalls sounded around them, but she seemed wholly unwilling to take her eyes off of him.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, clutching her wand as if to snap it despite knowing it wouldn't do her much good. "You're foot, it caught my leg, I couldn't get away…oh, Merlin—"

Snape gripped her shoulder as tightly as he dared while fighting the unease churning in his stomach. The gesture was meant to both comfort her and satisfy his "brothers" but at the moment, he could do nothing more than curse his carelessness.

He wanted to apologize for dragging her where she never should have been. He wanted to implore her to run. He wanted so very, very much to warn her of the torturous night that was bound to ensue at the hands of those snickering beside him. He wanted to do a lot of things. What he had to do only fueled the roiling in his gut.

He pulled her close and growled ferociously, to the delight of those nearest him. He tightened his grip when he felt her stiffen, and when he was close enough to her ear, he whispered, "I'm sorry—I'll do my best to keep you alive."

Snape pulled away to gauge her reaction; the tears in her eyes were as good as a nod, and he turned to once again face the Dark Lord.

"Well, Severus?" the Dark Lord breathed.

Snape squeezed Hermione's arm and could feel the goosebumps that had erupted at the sight of Lord Voldemort. "I do apologize, my Lord. I was in the middle of hosting a detention with Miss Granger when I received your summons and, for lack of another option, I took my work with me."

The Dark Lord shooed away his apology and took the girl in at length. "Not to worry, my loyal servant," he hissed, "I'm sure we can find…some use for her."

Snape heard Hermione's breath hitch in her throat as the enthusiasm around them swelled at the dark wizard's words. Her breathing returned in shallow huffs as the man in question reached a white, withering hand towards her. Snape took a deep breath, and shoved Hermione into the pack of wolves.

She stumbled into the circle, and then tripped on Lucius Malfoy's outstretched foot. The ring of Death Eaters erupted into laughter as the girl pulled herself to rights. She faced Snape, her eyes begging him for guidance. And he did the only thing he could think to do.

Legilimens.

-BREAK-

Hermione was quite sure her lungs had been encased in stone. She'd known the second Snape Disapparated that she was in trouble.

She just didn't know how much.

She refused to look at anything but Snape, but her peripheral vision caught every eye in the circle gaping at her. That included the eyes of the most feared man in the Wizarding World.

Hermione had envisioned the final battle that was surely coming a million times in her head. Somehow in the vision, she never came face to face with the man himself. She always Harry dealing with him on his own. Being face to face with the man who'd taken the lives of so many was the most horrifying thing she'd faced.

So far.

Her mind, and her survival mode, kicked into overdrive at Snape's pronouncement. She truthfully didn't know what lay before her, only that it would be bad. She gathered every ounce of focus, of intellect, she possessed because she knew nothing but her all would give her any hope of surviving.

She heard words exchanged but they were fuzzy in her head. Perhaps not paying the strictest attention was unwise, but at that moment, she chose to put her all of her trust into Snape, a man she still wasn't wholly sure was on her side. That trust waivered for a moment when she felt his spindly fingers shove against the small of her back. She was sent stumbling into a circle comprised of dark wizards, and her knees met the ground hard when one of those wizards stuck his foot in her path.

Hermione righted herself and dusted off her clothing. She felt Voldemort closing in on her and knowing her options were slim, she turned her eyes back on her Potions professor, willing him to give her a small sign, a clue—anything.

She saw his obsidian eyes blacken further with concern, with secrecy, with thought. Then she saw them cloud slightly and she became vaguely aware of a nagging force in her mind, a breach of wards that were clearly not masterfully built.

Of course, she thought hastily, he was trying to break into her mind.

Harry had briefed her about the sensation, and she loosened the wards; she let him have free reign of her mind. She thought quickly of a way to convey her message through images, and settled on a memory of a sign in a coffee shop window that read, "Help Wanted, Apply Within."

She watched his eyes crease as he read, and formulated a response to her. She felt Voldemort's murderous fingers raking through her hair, and it took all the determination she possessed to kill the scream that wanted to rip through her throat.

-BREAK-

"Help Wanted, Apply Within."

His heart tugged unexpectedly as her memory opened for him, and he was exceedingly appreciative at her ingenious idea for communicating. He prodded her mind lightly, and he knew she'd taken the hint when he felt the tentative tap of her mind within his. Snape let his wards down entirely, which was a whole different sort of danger, but the Dark Lord seemed preoccupied for the time being by the girl's silk, honey curls.

He tugged her mind deeper within his, and presented her with a calm meadow, trying to portray safety. She understood; he nearly felt her mind nodding along with him.

He followed her back into the open well that was her memory, and was presented with a question mark. She was asking him what was to come.

It was with regret this time that he led her cautious explorations back into his mind. He searched in the boarded up recesses of his memory and finally settled upon the sight of the first girl he'd been forced to violate. She'd turned into the first of many.

Hermione was burdened with the image of Snape, a young man at the time, forcing himself upon a girl who might've been eighteen, but even that could've been optimistic. The girl bled and she cried and her screams burned Snape like hot coals, but he saw the memory through to the end because he wanted Hermione every bit aware of what she might be subjected to.

He felt her mind shiver—it might've cried out, if it could have—before retreating.

-BREAK-

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine so severely, she could've sworn someone dropped an ice cube down her shirt. The screams of the poor girl Snape had attacked rang in her ears and she was quite sure that the memory was any woman's absolute hell.

She tried desperately not to acknowledge the fact that Snape bestowed that memory upon her in an attempt to warn her of the night's proceedings.

Hermione felt Snape's mind taste the horror that saturated hers, and she concentrated on closing the flood gates. This wasn't his fault and he felt guilty enough as it was; she didn't need to add to his anxiety by panicking. Hermione didn't know Snape's position in the war, not entirely. It was clear, thus far, that he was some sort of double agent, and her actions tonight could either make or break his vital role. She swallowed her fear and stood up straighter.

They all had a part in the war. She just had to take this one for the team.

Still, that was easier said than done. She'd never smelled death, but she was fairly certain the Dark Lord reeked of it and she fought to keep her dinner down. She almost lost it, until finally he removed his hands from her hair and stepped back to look her over.

"For a Mudblood," he breathed in a whisper that sounded like a shout, "you're ravishing. It's no wonder Potter keeps you around."

That elicited a chuckle from the encircling Death Eaters. Hermione wrestled the blush that rouged her cheeks.

She took a step back, startled, as Voldemort raised his wand, but he'd finished his spell before she'd raised her wand. With a flash of green light, her robes were shredded to bits. Her sweater was slit up the middle and removed from her torso, and her skirt fell to her ankles. Her arms shot up to cover her exposed flesh when she realized what he'd done. She was left shivering in a matching maroon bra and panties.

"How very…Gryffindor," the wizard hissed, his voice rising above the catcalls from his followers. He faced them now, and held his arms wide. "Who's first?"

Though it'd been nearly five years since they'd spoken in Flourish & Blotts, Hermione recognized him as soon as his long blonde hair was released from his mask. Her stomach gnawed at her, telling her to run, and run fast, but her legs were noncompliant.

"Ah, Lucius," Voldemort sighed, "we can always count on you."

Malfoy, in response, bowed to his Master and shed his cloak. His pants were already unzipped. Hermione locked eyes with Snape as her heart hammered faster than she thought possible. Snape characteristically wore a blank mask, but through Legilimens, he tried to tell her it'd be over quickly.

Hermione nodded lightly, almost imperceptibly, and closed her eyes as Malfoy reached her. He traced a pattern across her stomach as he said his words.

"Scream all you like."

She did.