Chapter 7

It was well past curfew when Yaxley finally dismissed her from the dungeon bedchamber he had commandeered for his use when in residence at Hogwarts. Pulling her Hufflepuff school uniform jumper over her torn shirt, and clutching it to her chest as he had ripped her brassiere to shreds and had Evanesco'd the remains from existence, Orla crept down the dingy corridor, keeping to the walls and moving quickly in the shadows that were cast from the dim wall sconces. She had no wish to run into another Death Eater on the way back to her common room.

It had in no way been a pleasant evening, but it had not been as bad as the previous time, as he had not struck or choked her, and she was uninjured. Violated and disgusted, yes, but not injured. She had managed to close her eyes as he ripped her clothing from her body, attempting to transport her mind elsewhere, anywhere but in this dank chamber with the ugly old Death Eater who had his hands and mouth all over her body.

He could take her body, and he had done, but he would never take her mind.

Reaching a dark section as she turned a corner, she squealed as someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows, away from most of the light.

"Malfoy!" she hissed. "What are you doing? You're out after curfew."

"As if that is the greatest of my problems," he muttered. "Now, listen to me, are you hurt? Yaxley, did he hurt you?"

"How did you know about that?"

"I'm a Death Eater, Roach," he sneered, rolling up his left sleeve to show her the Dark Mark that had been branded upon it. "I know everything, including that you and Granger have been given to Yaxley and Snape as some kind of perverse payment for being allowed to stay at school."

"You don't agree then?" she asked, her Irish lilt becoming more pronounced in her surprise at his choice of words.

"Of course, I don't fucking agree. I had no choice in any of this. Now tell me, are you hurt? I can heal you, or take you to the infirmary?"

"I am not," she conceded. "Well, nothing apart from hurt pride and humiliation. That tends to happen when you get repeatedly raped."

Malfoy's face winced in guilty pain at her words.

"I hate this," he moaned, quietly, scrubbing at his face with his hands, angrily sweeping his white-blond hair out of his eyes.

He was taking a great risk not only in being out after curfew, for the Death Eaters were far stricter than the Hogwarts professors had ever been, but also in talking to her so openly. How did he know he could trust her? Perhaps he was so desperate to talk to someone that he no longer cared about the security of his own position. In these troubled times, who knew who they could trust. She took a punt.

"Come with me," she whispered.

Orla took his hand and led him to the end of the dungeon corridor, up a flight of stairs and towards a huge tapestry that was strung across what appeared to be a solid wall at the beginning of the kitchen corridor, where at the bottom she would find the entrance to the warm, cosy Hufflepuff common room.

She pulled Malfoy behind the giant tapestry into a small alcove that contained an armchair, a small bookcase, a single wall sconce and the tiniest window he had ever seen, through which glowed a silver beam of moonlight.

"What the fuck?"

"You've never been here?"

"Never."

"You're missing out. All Hufflepuffs know about Helga's Hideaway. You can completely closet yourself here, if you know the right spells."

Orla took out her wand and cast a silencing and solidifying spell upon the tapestry, meaning they could not be heard, and nor could the tapestry be drawn aside until they left the hideaway.

"Some students have been known to hole up in here for hours with a box of cauldron cakes and a good book," she told him, smiling.

He reached for her other hand, for she was still holding the one she'd been dragging him with, all the way from the dungeon corridor. She preferred the warmth of the kitchen corridor much better. He turned her so that she was fully facing him, but his hands were gentle, a welcome change from Yaxley's vicious pawing.

"Draco, what are you doing?"

"Help me, Orla. Please."

"How can I help you? I can't even help myself. Look at the mess I'm currently in."

"That is not of your making. Every time … it happens, doesn't it make you angrier, make you want to fight back?"

"I've just been letting it happen. Closing my eyes and taking my mind somewhere else."

"You can't!"

He tugged on her hands with vehemence, inadvertently pulling her closer to him, and she jumped a little. She had never been this close to the famous Draco Malfoy before. Hufflepuffs did not have much to do with Slytherins.

His eyes – it was like looking in a mirror – they were the exact same blue of her own. She'd often heard it said that she looked like a Malfoy, a joke that she normally laughed off with the right amount of disgust, but being this close, she could see they really were similar. How unusual. Such similar looks but such different backgrounds – his being pureblood and her being Muggle-born.

"What do you want from me, Draco?"

"I have no idea. I just know I can't sit back and let this happen. There's no support in Slytherin house, most families are either Death Eater or Ministry workers, or in Voldemort's pocket in some way. So, I need to involve the other houses – Lions, Puffs, Claws. But everyone hates me. I need a way in. That's where I need you, everyone fucking loves a Hufflepuff, and you were the one most likely to listen to me. I have no fucking plan, no bloody clue what I need to do now, only that there's got to be some way, enough people, to fight this. To fight … him."

Orla let go of Draco's hands and gathered him fully into her arms, and to her surprise he accepted her attentions, laying his head on her shoulder and breathing hard and fast. She suspected he was crying. How long had it been since someone had held him, made him feel safe? If Malfoy was lurking in dungeon corridors waiting for abused Mudbloods then he must be desperate. The whole situation was completely weird, much like everything else in the wizarding world at that moment.

"I'll help you," she whispered into his hair. "I don't what I can do, and I'm scared, but if you're brave enough, I can be too."

He pulled back, removing his arms from around her waist and taking a step away from her.

"I'm not brave. Potter always believed I was a coward. It's a bit late, but I'm going to prove to him that I'm not. Oh shit, Potter, and Weasley … they're fucking dead, Orla! Neither of those stupid Gryffindor pricks deserved to die."

"Gryffindor pricks?"

She raised an amused eyebrow.

"They'll always be Gryffindor pricks to me. But I miss them like absolute hell. I rather wanted to spend the rest of my life tormenting the bastards."

"I know plenty more Gryffindors you can torment. I'll find them for you."

"You will?"

"I will."

She extended her hand, and he took it, sealing their pact as the magic swirled around their conjoined wrists.

-xxx-

Severus felt intensely nauseous as he stepped into line with the other members of Voldemort's inner circle. The loyal followers. The only ones he trusted enough to brand with the Dark Mark. That Draco Malfoy had ended up here was a fucking joke, he looked incongruous among the hugely experienced, older witches and wizards.

Draco had only been marked to punish his father, who stood in his own place, a shadow of the arrogant, wealthy pureblood that he used to be. Malfoy Senior was as haggard and drawn as he'd been the day he was broken out of Azkaban. It was likely that Lucius would drop dead from a stress-induced heart attack before too much longer.

They had been summoned to the Riddle House at Little Hangleton, and Voldemort's minions had not been idle, for the house was as clean and opulent as it must have been years ago. It certainly was not the filthy, broken shell that Severus had seen on previous visits.

The Dark Lord was holding court in a grand lounge, wearing black robes that softly undulated around his thin body as he walked slowly to-and-fro on a raised, carpeted dais that lifted him above his followers, who had been forced to genuflect in a semi-circle around him. The whole charade was sickening.

Twisting the Elder Wand in his long, bony fingers, Voldemort addressed his inner circle.

"It now nearly two weeks since the fall of Harry Potter! And what a glorious fortnight it has been. Both the Ministry and Hogwarts are openly under my control, and as you can see, I have never looked or felt better! My strength only increases with each day, my body becomes more solid, more corporeal. Why, I can only hope that I will soon be able to participate in Revels with the rest of you!"

There was a murmuring of unctuous approval from the gathered Death Eaters.

"Now, you will see to the side that my house-elves have a provided a feast for you to help yourselves from, and whilst we eat and drink I shall call each one of you to approach me and account for your time over the last two weeks, and to tell me your intentions as we move forwards. Once you have been seen, you will find whores and Mudbloods around the house for your amusement until you are dismissed at the end of the evening."

Voldemort bowed his head expectantly to receive a round of applause, and the inner circle moved as one towards the refreshment table where a sumptuous buffet feast had been laid out before them. Severus was appalled, but not surprised, that the mad bastard had grouped Muggle-borns in the same category as the rancid whores that populated Knockturn Alley.

Seeing a defeated, naked witch pass the doorway, he was reminded anew of his determination to keep Miss Granger and Miss Roach at Hogwarts – to spare them this fate.

"No longer shall the Dark cower in fear of the Light," Voldemort crowed. "We shall take all the pleasures life has to give and revel in them!"

Severus served himself a plate, for he would be a fool to refuse the bounty of the Dark Lord, and accepted a goblet of wine that he sipped covertly slowly. He did not wish to be under the influence of alcohol when within cursing distance of the wizarding world's self-appointed new ruler.

Conversing little, he continually observed the interviews between Voldemort and each member of his inner circle. He would call the wizards, and the few witches, up to the dais and have them kneel before him while he searched their minds. Occasionally, he would seem to be angered, and give the Death Eater who had displeased him a Crucio to remind them of their role in the new establishment.

Other times he would be pleased, and bestow the loyal follower with a stroke of their hair, and indicate that they should leave the room to find themselves a witch to debauch. The female Death Eaters were just as eager for the whores and captives as the male ones.

Voldemort had chuckled when he searched Yaxley's mind, no doubt the Head of Magical Law Enforcement had plenty to show him of punishments delivered, kangaroo-court decisions and enough rape of Miss Roach to satisfy him.

"I am thinking you would rather be at Hogwarts a little more often, Yaxley, if this is the service you are receiving?"

"I am satisfied, My Lord, in every respect. You are most gracious. We cannot all be as fortunate as Snape and have our Mudbloods at our beck and call."

Voldemort smiled, a hideous contorted smile that terrified rather than appeased, before waving Yaxley upstairs.

"Indeed, Severus, you must be the most satisfied wizard in this room! Come, take your place."

Severus swallowed hard and stepped up onto the dais, kneeling before the hated snake of a man, wincing as he Legilimised into his mind. Severus successfully Occluded everything pertaining to a potential rebellion, and inserted a few false memories of him abusing Miss Granger by piecing together scenes of her face as she'd hugged him, the way she'd looked at him as he'd held her wrist in the Potions lab, as if she wanted to devour him alive.

Mixed in with these were memories of past conquests, only showing the parts of their body that was necessary to make the Dark Lord believe he was fucking a student. He kept in the screams of rape victims and the grunts of Knockturn Alley whores, and could only hope it was enough to fool Voldemort.

Withdrawing from his brain with a disgusting slither, Voldemort looked down at Severus, his eyes full of suspicion.

"I do not believe, Severus, that you are making the most of the boon I have granted you."

"On the contrary, My Lord, I find her most satisfactory."

"Then why do I see in your brothers' minds that the girl is in lessons every day? Always on time, homework always completed, not a bruise on her body, no distress in her eyes? How is it that she is managing to outperform every other student in her year? You are not being firm enough with her, Severus. You are thinking like a schoolteacher, not as a Death Eater."

He leaned closer, close enough for Snape to see the light imprint of scales upon his skin, and he shuddered in disgust.

"And you are a Death Eater, Severusss. I suggest you act like one."

A small group of wizards, the ones who were stationed within the school, had gathered around the dais to observe.

"Since Lord Voldemort is pleased with you, and understands that your position at the school is hard, I shall assist you once again."

He pointed the Elder Wand at Severus, and cast what felt like a stronger version of the compulsion curse upon him, before smiling in a terrifying fashion.

"If you want more, you will take more. And with the additional compulsion I have just gifted you with, you will certainly want more, Severus."

The shot of arousal hit him instantly, and his thoughts were filled with nothing but the little Gryffindor to whom he had pledged his allegiance.

His cock throbbing with the sudden erection that was trapped inside his trousers, and his gut churning with frustrated desire, he looked around at the assembled Death Eaters who were acting as professors, with whom he would return to the school, as Voldemort addressed them, his slippery voice oozing out the words.

"Ensure that the Mudblood is brought directly to the Headmaster's office when you return to Hogwarts. He will no doubt have urgent need of her."

Shit.

-xxx-

Hermione was shaken awake by a rough hand on her shoulder.

"Parvati?" she asked, blearily.

"No such luck, Princess," came the gravelly tones of Alecto Carrow, who was clutching Hermione's bare arm in a tight grip, pulling her up from the mattress. "The Dark Lord has ordered that you be brought to Snape immediately. So, get up, and fast."

Carrow gave her arm another vicious yank, causing her to sit up and her feet to fall onto the dormitory floor. Barely awake, she began to reach for her wardrobe in the night time darkness of the room.

"You won't need clothes, you little slut," Alecto spat, lasciviously eyeing Hermione's floral shorts and sleep vest. "You are to come exactly as you are."

And with that, she took hold of Hermione's elbow and steered her out of the dormitory door, down the steps and through the silent, deserted common room, which was draughty and cold without a blaze burning in the huge fireplace. Alecto pushed her through the portrait hole, and her bare feet were quickly chilled by the cold flagstones of the corridor floor beneath them.

"Headmaster's office, Mudblood. You know the way, so move."

Hermione set off in the direction of Gargoyle Corridor, walking speedily since the quicker she walked, the quicker her feet would be on a warm rug again. She could feel the goosepimples prickling on her arms and was thankful of her wild, thick hair for once, since it was warming her shoulders, bare apart from the thin straps of her vest.

Knowing where she was headed, she felt a slight thrum of the compulsion making itself heard.

"What is happening?" she asked Carrow, over her shoulder, as the squat Death Eater who was supposed to be her guard was struggling to keep up on her short, fat legs.

"Let's just say that Snape has had an extra gift from our Lord tonight. You'll find out soon enough."

Hermione didn't bother to answer, and carried on at the same pace. Let Carrow run and pant to catch up, she had no mind to wait for her.

Sadly, she did catch up, as Hermione was forced to wait at the foot of the Headmasters' stairs to gain entrance, since two other Death Eaters; Macnair and the other Carrow twin were lying in wait for her, flanking her as they forced her onto to the stone steps, holding her in place as the staircase turned to bring them up outside Snape's office.

"Well, look what a tasty piece Snape has here, Amycus," leered Macnair, eyeing Hermione's nipples that were clearly visible through the thin, stretchy material of her vest, and erect from the cold.

"Fucking shame we can't have a bite," Amycus grumbled.

They entered without knocking, the two wizards pushing her roughly through the door.

Snape was pacing in front of his desk, looking agitated, as if he were waiting for something, and was in great pain doing so.

"Come here, Mudblood," he demanded, stopping stock-still in the middle of his pacing to stare at her.

Macnair and Carrow shoved Hermione hard towards him, unbalancing her so that Snape was forced to put out an arm to steady her. The Headmaster caught her around the waist, pulling her towards him so that her back was flush against his chest, which she could feel heaving with desperate pants. He buried his nose in her hair, so that his lips were touching her left ear.

"Struggle," he hissed, barely audibly.

"Get off me!" she shouted, attempting to free herself from his strong arm that was clamped around her.

"I think not, Granger," he sneered, straightening himself up so that the Carrows and Macnair could hear him now.

There was something rock hard pushing against the small of her back which could only be an erection, not that she had much experience there but the rules of basic anatomy meant that was the only thing it could possibly be.

Keeping her pulled hard against him, he lifted the other hand to her breast and began to pinch her erect nipple over the top of her vest, grinding himself into her from behind.

"Get out!"

He directed his order at the gawping, salivating Death Eaters.

"You saw what our Lord gifted me with, and I need to satisfy it now. I refuse to do that with you three perverts watching me. Get out … now."

He leaned down and placed his open mouth on the side of her neck and beginning a sucking kiss, before taking her full breast into his hand and squeezing it. She struggled against his grip, but it only seemed to increase his frantic grinding.

"Please, don't … Professor Snape, Sir … stop it!"

Macnair walked over to her, tipping her chin up with a sleazy finger and a look of mock-concern upon his face.

"I think not, Mudblood. Professor Snape has a very bad itch he needs to scratch. All night, I should think. More to the pity he doesn't want an audience. I'll tell your teachers you're unlikely to be in lessons tomorrow, because he won't be letting you leave any time soon."

"Get your hands off my witch, Macnair. She was not gifted to you, and I do not share my presents."

Macnair raised his palms in a gesture of surrender, and Snape placed the flat of his hand against her stomach. His touch was driving her crazy, despite the humiliation of the situation.

"Out!"

Snape's voice brooked no further dissent. The three Death Eaters turned and left the room, Macnair slamming the office door with as much force as he could.

The moment the door hit the frame, Snape released her, drawing his wand and throwing ward after ward upon the door in a fit of anger.

He walked right up to her, far too close, his eyes burning black fire.

"The Dark Lord," he said, with some difficulty since he was breathing so heavily, "added to my compulsion curse tonight. I am now feeling everything that you are, multiplied. My aim is to keep you safe from me until it dissipates."

He cast his wand at the wood-panelled wall, and a hidden door opened.

"I cannot allow you to leave without incriminating us both. That is the door to my private bedchamber. Go in there, secure the door, and go to bed. Do not allow me to enter, however much I might beg you."

"But, Sir, how will you cope? Are you in pain?"

"Do not concern yourself with me. It is not safe for you to be near me at the present time, because believe me, Granger, I will rip that vest from your body and suckle that sweet tit that I had the pleasure of holding, until you beg me to release you."

She clutched at her belly as it flipped over with excitement at his words, and took a step towards him.

"Go. Now," he growled. "If you want to help me, you will follow my instructions."

He gave her a push towards the open door.

-xxx-

Severus felt her ward the door to his bedchamber, and heard the loud creak of the mattress as if she had thrown herself upon it.

He growled out loud.

What he wouldn't give to be throwing Granger on the bed, and following her on to it.

His rational mind told him that he was in the iron grip of the compulsion curse, but his body was screaming at him nonsensically for release. He was in pain – an anguished, physical pain. He ripped off his long, black coat and threw it impatiently on one of the armchairs before the fire, pulled the tight cravat from around his neck and loosened some of the buttons on his shirt front and cuffs. At least he was slightly less restricted now.

He prowled around his office, stretching his arms and legs, arching and bridging his back, rolling his neck – anything that might speed the dissipation of the curse. Grabbing his decanter of firewhisky, he threw back a large mouthful straight from the bottle, hoping the tart burn at the back of his throat would distract him.

Running his hands roughly through his long, slightly greasy, hair and pushing it back from his face, he remembered the feel of her bare skin under his hands, the soft curve of her back as he'd ground his cock unceremoniously into it, and fucking Merlin, the deliciously tight bud of her erect nipple as he'd rolled it between his fingers to convince the Death Eaters that he intended to spend the night abusing her young body.

Snape could not help the tortured groan that forced its way up from the pit of his stomach, and he sank to his knees on the thick rug like a wounded animal, all the time rutting his hips fruitlessly, like a wild stag in season.

He couldn't bear it, and yet he must.

He had survived the worst torture imaginable, pain that the Dark Lord had thrown at him, over the years. A compulsion curse should be nothing, except that it worked on his deepest desires, not just a physical pain. You could not just grit your teeth and pretend the compulsion wasn't happening, as he could do with a Crucio. A compulsion curse would slither its way into every hole in your psyche, and slowly drive you to insanity. He certainly felt unhinged, right at that moment.

Once the wave of agony had subsided, he stood up and took another slug of the firewhisky, wondering if he could drink enough to pass out.

Pacing around the office again, he only got as far as his desk chair before the next wave hit him, engorging his cock to the point where his trousers were painfully constricting his blood supply. He shouted out in pain.

There was nothing for it. He roughly unfastened the buttons and lowered the zip of his trousers, pushing them down along with his underwear, no longer caring about decency, so long as he could get his hand on his aching prick.

The first touch of his grasping hand was sweet relief as he began to masturbate, trying to not to think about his inability to reach completion. He filled his mind with Granger instead, imagining her standing before him with her abundant hair flowing loose and taking off her tiny pyjamas as he watched her.

He did not realise how loud he was groaning.

-xxx-

Hermione tried to cover her ears to block out the sounds of Professor Snape's moans of misery as she curled up in the Headmaster's enormous bed, which was tapping at her own compulsion since it smelled so blissfully of him. As yet, she was not in a bad state, certainly nowhere near the overwhelmed state that the dark wizard was in, but the feelings were not going away, and his cries of agony were provoking her.

If she felt like this, how on earth must he be feeling, having been cursed with a double dose?

Her heart was breaking for him. How could they continue like this? One, or both, of them would surely be driven mad in their quest to not become sexually involved with one another.

A tiny voice prodded at her subconscious.

Would it really be so bad?

She had no partner, Snape had no wife. She was well of age, turning nineteen in a few months, and although he was significantly older, he was not yet forty, since he was the same age as Harry's parents would have been. Voldemort's victory had thrown the world into chaos, and alliances were being formed that she never would have dreamed of.

It seemed that she and Snape were to be the bedrock of the resistance movement, and they could not do that with them both in states such as they were tonight.

It was just sex.

It wasn't pain, or torture, or humiliation. If they were successful in defeating Voldemort then the curse would die with him and they would both be free. If the Dark Lord prevailed again … well, it wouldn't matter anyway, since they would both likely die in the attempt.

She made her decision.

Drawing her wand, she reversed the locking charm on the bedchamber door, pushed it open, and stepped silently into the Headmaster's office, to find Snape holding his exposed penis that was turning purple with overwrought tension, looked painfully swollen, and she was shocked to see tears of frustration tracking down his face.

She walked towards him.

-xxx-

What was she doing?

"No, Granger, get back! I absolutely forbid it," he panted, his thin black hair sticking to his forehead with the sweat of his endeavours.

"We can't go on like this," she replied, continuing to walk towards him. "We have a job to do, and we cannot do it with this hanging over our heads, playing with our minds and causing such physical pain as you are clearly in."

She had reached him, her knees touching his. He was so far gone, he cared little that his naked and erect penis was in full view of a student.

"Go back to bed, Miss Granger."

He sounded unconvincing, even to himself.

"Desire begets desire," he warned. "If you touch me once, I will be compelled to seek your touch over and over again."

She knelt down in front of him, and his cock lurched at her proximity. Granger reached out her hand, took a full hold of his leaking prick, and the physical feeling of relief was so potent and immediate that he felt like weeping.

"I cannot let you do this," he argued, covering her hand with his own.

"Just show me how, Sir."

He stared at her, his dark eyes meeting her lighter brown ones.

With no further words being spoken, and without averting his gaze, he began to move the hand that he held over hers, guiding her fingers along his cock, allowing her to feel exactly how he liked to be stroked – down to the base and back up again, slightly twisting off at the end to provide extra sensation to the head.

He groaned, long and loud.

Severus manipulated her hand up and down, feeling her little fingers caress every vein and ridge that littered the surface of his penis, never breaking eye contact, unable to drink down enough of the utter sincerity that he could see there.

Hermione Granger was nothing if not a quick study, and he soon loosened his grip as her own hand took control of the operation, keeping to the exact pace and mimicking the exact motions that he had set for her. He gripped the arms of his desk chair, his knuckles whitening with the effort. It was unlikely to take long, since he was so fucking aroused, to the point of passing out.

Looking down to see this little witch wanking his cock was the sweet relief that he had craved since being cursed. He was slack-jawed, and his eyes were partly closed in bliss.

"Fuck, Granger … oh, yes … yes, just like that, little one. Don't stop."

He was close to orgasm now.

"Don't stop! Fucking Merlin …"

She placed her free hand on his naked thigh and sped up the other, masturbating him faster.

"Oh! Oh, my fucking god! Now! Now ... ungghhh …"

He threw his head back in acceptance of the roaring climax that shook his entire body, and he thrust his hips upwards, pushing his cock into her palm as the thick blobs of semen erupted from the end and slid slowly down her hand and in-between her fingers like hot, melting ice-cream.

A slight movement still causing his hips to twitch, he looked at her beautiful face, his compulsion now assuaged, but for how long.

He then looked down at her hand, still wrapped around his cock and covered with his come.

What the fuck had they done?