Chapter 18
The Headmaster's mood was not improved the following morning, when he received notice via owl at the breakfast table that Dolores Umbridge would be undertaking her first public speech as Minister for Magic at two o'clock that afternoon. This would take place in the Ministry atrium, reporters and photographers would be there, and it was 'strongly suggested' that anyone in a position of high authority immediately make themselves available to attend.
Snape proceeded to ruffle feathers, not of the delivery owls, but of the Death Eaters, when he insisted the four Heads of House were to accompany him due to their elevated teaching positions with the school. The Carrows began to protest, loudly, followed by some of the others, but Severus smoothly diverted mutiny by suggesting that only Death Eaters would be capable of maintaining order within the castle in his absence, and to remove every one of them from Hogwarts at the same time was asking for trouble.
There would be plenty of their loyal comrades at the Ministry to hear Umbridge's speech, he reassured, enjoying the barely concealed anger on their faces, so there was no need for them all to be there.
The Death Eaters on staff appeared most disgruntled, and Snape took a perverse delight in knowing that there was nothing they could do to change his mind. Sometimes, just sometimes, being the Headmaster had its advantages.
He arranged to meet Minerva, Pomona, Filius and Horace in the Great Hall straight after lunch had finished, and they would Floo into the Ministry commuting fireplaces. Sprout, Flitwick and Slughorn seemed less than enthused than McGonagall at the thought of an outing with the Headmaster, since all three were still unaware of his true loyalties.
It would be good to have their support, however unwilling. Mindful of his public role as a loyal and high-ranking servant of the Dark Lord, Snape would have no choice but to choke down every foolish policy and racist ideology that was certain to spill forth from the mouth of the toad-face witch who had rent such destruction within the castle walls just a few years previously, even presuming to lean upon the then-Minister, Cornelius Fudge, to appoint her as Headmistress and force Dumbledore into hiding.
-xxx-
One look at the gathered crowd when they arrived in the Ministry atrium that afternoon told Severus that his presumptions and concerns were entirely justified. There was a huge presence of Death Eaters and other, un-Marked followers and supporters of the Dark Lord, who were placed deliberately and menacingly around the huge area, looking ready to quell any signs of dissidence or protest. It would be a suicidal or stupid witch or wizard who would dare to question the new Minister today, with all these supporters and followers of the Dark just itching and spoiling for a fight.
Snape wondered briefly whether the Voldemort himself would deign to be present, but even if he was here, he was unlikely to reveal himself in the public arena and was no doubt watching from wherever he had concealed himself and the snake. Alternatively, he could just be at home, slaking his lust with his captive whores and revelling in his perceived victories.
A smattering of applause ran around the atrium as Umbridge appeared from behind a set of pink curtains that magically lifted as she stepped through, her little heels click-clacking on the tiled floor, and took to the speakers' podium, which had been raised to ludicrous heights to lift the squat witch above the level of the crowd below. Wearing long robes of the darkest pink, with a matching hat, she looked rather like an overcooked blancmange.
She was flanked by Selwyn, Travers and the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement stood behind her like a dictators' guard, led by Yaxley, but thankfully Snape could see Kingsley Shacklebolt among them, his robes much more muted than he would usually wear in his attempt to blend into the background so he could observe and gather crucial information, and Severus was relieved to see that Shacklebolt had been accepted back into his old job. He wondered if he'd had any problem or opposition doing so, and resolved to ask him at the next Order meeting. There were also other Aurors who were definitely not Death Eaters or supporters, all looking equally uncomfortable at being counted thus. Hopefully, once they had a more detailed plan, these Aurors on the side of the Light could be enlisted as allies for the resistance.
This will not be forever, he thought, firmly. This farce will be the new wizarding world over my dead body.
The group of professors were standing at the front of the crowd, to enable Filius Flitwick to see clearly without having to suffer the indignity of standing on a conjured box. Umbridge's gimlet eye swept over the assembled witches and wizards, and he was not imagining that they narrowed as they met with Minerva's, who loathed Umbridge with unbridled and undisguised hatred.
"My dear subjects," Umbridge simpered, with that stupid little giggle that made him want to hex her head right off. "It gives me huge pleasure to be standing here before you today, ready to serve you loyally as your next Minister for Magic."
She paused, expectantly, and after an awkward few seconds, some unenthusiastic clapping could be heard. Severus was reminded of her unwelcome speech on her first night at Hogwarts, that had made everyone, himself include, cringe to the soles of their boots.
"I have been elevated to this grand and historical position by the great Lord Voldemort, who has communicated to me his ideals, his passions and his plans for this brave new world of ours. He has also given me the very great liberty of implementing any other policies that I feel would be of benefit, since our ideologies are so similar."
Oh shit, Severus thought, as she giggled again, girlishly, and he watched Minerva wince as if she had a stomach cramp. Umbridge given free rein to change Ministry policy to suit her own warped agenda had not been something he'd been expecting. Short in stature and mean of spirit, although magically powerful, Dolores Umbridge was a not a witch that any sane person would want in charge of the country's laws and affairs.
"I assure you that I will be returning magic to the hands of its rightful owners through our Muggle-born Registration Committee, and those caught using magic without proven magical heritage will be punished most severely. A trial programme is in place at Hogwarts School, to evaluate whether Muggle-borns who admit their theft of magic can be … retrained in order to be of use and service to the Dark Lord."
Yaxley face was like a thundercloud as she said this. No doubt he had been told of the flight of his personal Mudblood, who had been clever enough to escape his abuse. Severus knew exactly the kind of retraining she meant – Muggle-borns would be forced to be little more than servants and concubines to those in high office. All that talent, knowledge and skill would go to waste, for imagine a witch as exceptional as Miss Granger in a life as nothing more than a slave! He felt his blood begin to boil beneath the restrictive collar of his coat and cravat. What he wouldn't give to just Avada the lot of them, right now. But he must wait.
They would get one chance to bring this puppet government down, and the ramshackle new Order needed so much more information and resources that it hurt to think about how very far away they were. Their plan was the barest of ideas.
"Whilst the mixing of Muggle and magical blood is an abhorrence, this pales into insignificance when it comes to the mixing of magical blood with that of … sub-humans," she spat, her florid face turning even redder with anger. "I am talking, of course, of half-breeds! Those disgusting creatures who are the result of the heinous actions of their wizarding mother or father copulating with a magical beast."
Severus' large nose was finely-tuned to sniff out impending trouble, and he could sense a huge pile of shit about to descend upon the room.
"Half-giants! Half-goblins! Centaurs! Werewolves! And all those like them! Who are they to inflict their sub-human states upon the decent wizarding world? Henceforth each of them shall return to the herd of animals to whom they belong, or face the strictest punishments."
The chattering among the crowd became louder, but nobody actually protested, for who would dare to? Death Eaters and Aurors alike were already ready for action with wands drawn and their keen eyes darting everywhere, just waiting for the opportunity to pounce.
Umbridge stepped down from the podium and walked nearer to the front row the crowd, still atop the wide, raised platform, a sickly smile upon her face. As she approached, Severus could see a thin sheen of sweat across her forehead, clearly even someone as foul as this witch could suffer from nerves, not that she showed it.
"Let me demonstrate the exact reaches of my new policy. Imperio!"
She had drawn her stubby wand and fired it towards Severus before he even knew what she had planned. Although … it didn't hit him. It hit Professor Flitwick.
"Come here, half-breed. Up on to the stage."
Minerva and Pomona shouted loudly in protest.
"I suggest, Professors, that you restrain your opinions, lest you wish to find yourselves arrested for refusing to comply with the laws of wizarding Great Britain?"
Filius approached the platform, unwilling, forced by the Imperio that Umbridge cast upon him, and was humiliatingly lifted on to it by two Aurors.
"Now. You are most certainly half-goblin, Professor. And goblins should not be teaching our children, should they? Goblins should be in Gringotts, where they belong, and where they can be contained. I order you to go there now, and present yourself for suitable employment, and from that point it will be their decision what to do with you. Now go! And you are never to return to Hogwarts, you filthy half-breed!"
Under the effect of the Imperius Curse, Filius had no choice but to be escorted by the two Aurors out of the Ministry atrium, where they would presumably ensure he entered Gringotts.
What the actual fuck had just happened?
"I apologise, Headmaster Snape, for the loss of one of your staff," she continued, turning to him and suddenly all eyes were swivelled in his direction. "However, it is no longer acceptable for sub-humans to be around our children, let alone instructing their innocent minds. I also request that you dismiss the horse from teaching Divination, return him to his herd, and then banish the centaurs from the Forbidden Forest. Should they refuse to leave, they will be arrested and punished accordingly. The forest is part of the school grounds, and is therefore Ministry property – the centaurs are now trespassing. In addition, the foul half-giant that serves as gamekeeper must also be banished to find the rest of the giants, and he must now live alongside them … if he wishes to live, at all."
The cavernous, echoing atrium was silent. Not a cough, not a whisper could be heard. Everyone here had been through Hogwarts at some point in the past. Everyone knew Hagrid. The thought that he would be able to survive amongst real, full-size giants was preposterous. He was a human wizard, albeit a very large one.
Fenrir Greyback sauntered forwards, cocksure of his position as one of the Dark Lord's most bloodthirsty and savage followers, despite not bearing the Mark.
"Pardon me, Madam Minister, but you also mentioned werewolves," he smiled, showing his pointed teeth. "I presume this doesn't mean all werewolves?"
"I said all part-humans. Can you show me a human who changes into a wolf every month? How ridiculous. I'm sorry, but your transformations mean that you are an animal and you shall be treated as such. There are no exceptions. Incarcerous!"
Magical ropes flew out from the end of her wand and bound Greyback from head-to-foot, causing him to fall heavily on the floor, shouting and swearing.
"Lord Voldemort shares my opinion that only the purest of wizards should serve him. He certainly did not specify animals. Since werewolves are a danger to our world and to our magical children, they will be eradicated. Starting with yourself. Take him away, please!"
She indicated to some of the burliest-looking Aurors, who stepped forward and dragged Greyback to his feet.
"Where to, Minister?"
Umbridge paused, looking over at the struggling werewolf with a face like thunder, not scared, but furious, ropes bound tightly across his hairy chest, his shouts obviously silenced by one of the Aurors. A reasonable person might have expected Umbridge to show mercy, but instead a slow smile spread across her face as she addressed the Aurors, ignoring Greyback completely.
"You have your orders as to what we now do with those who are … surplus to our society."
They paused, before nodding gravely, and dragging Greyback from the atrium. He was so strong it took four of the largest Aurors to remove him. His association with the Dark Lord had not saved him.
Severus' mind spun, and sneaking a look at Minerva and discreetly pressing against her mind, with her tacit permission for she allowed it, he could see they had the same thoughts. Lupin – he was safely hidden, but for how long? What could they do about Filius – should they go to Gringotts and see how he had been received by the goblins? They must get back to the school to warn Hagrid and Firenze of the developments, how soon could they all leave the cloying, propaganda-infused atmosphere of the Ministry atrium? And then Minerva had a thought that had not occurred to him, Fleur Weasley was part-Veela, this must mean she was also at risk.
With one public speech, Umbridge had shown the way she meant to proceed – no mercy.
Fuck.
-xxx-
When they returned to the school, Slughorn slunk away quickly, muttering something about having a lie down. Most likely he was going to retire to his chambers to get drunk on something with such a high alcohol content that it would render him oblivious in the shortest amount of time. The man had no stamina, but then again, he was rather an old wizard now, and not in the best of health.
Severus led the two witches to his office, deciding that the time was right to take Pomona Sprout into their confidence. He trusted her. With Minerva's help, they pieced together what she needed to know, her huge eyes growing even wider as they astounded her with truth after truth. Sprout had been particularly concerned for Miss Roach, who as one of her own Hufflepuffs, should have been able to count on her Head of House for pastoral care. They swore the curly-haired witch to secrecy, and her patched, soil-encrusted hessian hat had bobbed as she'd eagerly nodded her agreement.
They agreed that the only solution for Hagrid and Firenze was to secrete themselves deep in the Forbidden Forest, for both would know how to survive; food could be delivered by house-elves to an agreed location, and both were to be given a wand to conjure shelter. Minerva left immediately to visit Firenze in his forest classroom on the ground floor, just off the entrance hall, and Pomona volunteered to trek down to Hagrid's hut to break the unhappy news.
They all hoped that it wouldn't be forever.
Umbridge had ordered that all centaurs were to be eradicated from the Forbidden Forest, but short of sending a team of Aurors into the vast, magical forest, where the wily centaurs would easily be able to conceal themselves, and most likely kill every one of the search party, Severus did not think that she would be able to enforce the demand. Hagrid and Firenze would hopefully be safe in there for as long as the world was in this subjugated state.
He sent an owl to Lupin to ask him to call another meeting of the Order as soon as possible, to discuss developments. He did not expand further, but warned him it was now imperative that he remain secreted inside Grimmauld Place at all times. If Lupin were to put one toe outside the wards of the Fidelius charm then he would be captured and meet the same fate as Greyback.
Summoning a large folder that contained the details of witches and wizards who had previously applied for teaching positions at Hogwarts, he sorted through those who were qualified to teach Charms. Sighing deeply, he hoped it would only be a temporary appointment. Poor Filius. What on earth would have happened to him at Gringotts? Goblins were horrible, miserable little bastards that hated wizards, so Merlin knows what they would make of the half-goblin, half-wizard Professor Flitwick.
The world had gone mad under the tyranny of Voldemort's rule, and the enormity of the task before him seemed insurmountable. He could only complete each task as it presented itself.
After he had penned a standard letter to possible candidates advising of the Charms vacancy, magically duplicating them and sending them off with a batch of school owls to their intended recipients, the bell for dinner rang and he rose to his feet, for he could not escape the Great Hall after such a day of new information. The Death Eaters who had been obliged to remain in the castle would be salivating to find out what Umbridge had said in her speech, and he wondered if any of them would feel sorry for Fenrir Greyback. He doubted it.
As Severus left the office, he felt a strong pulse in his groin, taking his breath away with such force that he had to grasp the wall of the stairwell that was taking him down. His head was immediately cleared of all thoughts of Umbridge, and the Ministry and part-humans – to be replaced very firmly with Miss Granger. His cock twitched, advising him that the respite that their night-of-four-times had satisfied the compulsion for long enough, and it was now time to address it again.
It did not bode well for a successful evening meal, having to fend off questions from Death Eaters, hold his cover with the staff, keep control of the school and eat his own dinner, when all the while his dick would be bumping the underside of the table, desperate for the compulsion to be satisfied.
He would keep his eye from wandering to the Gryffindor table. He would.
-xxx-
Hermione was one of the last few students in the common room that evening. There was no point in going to bed yet, for she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. The disappearance of Orla, the only person in the same position as her, had given her great consternation, and she was terrified that Yaxley had actually killed Orla and that it was being kept secret.
It was odd that she'd heard Draco Malfoy was also missing, and there was a rumour that he and Orla had run away together. Hermione thought this was most unlikely, but then she couldn't explain where Malfoy might have gone, either. They'd both apparently been in the hospital wing together, so she supposed it wasn't outside the realms of possibility.
They'd been told at dinner that Flitwick, Hagrid and Firenze would all be leaving the school, due to the new regulations and controls upon magical creatures that had been effected by the new Minister. Where would they go? Neither Flitwick nor Hagrid were at dinner; had they already been ousted? Hermione's mind spun with possibilities and it was making her head ache.
When the last Gryffindors had gone up to their dormitories, she popped up to her own where Parvati was already fast asleep, and put on pyjamas and her dressing gown, but then came back down to the common room and built up the fire, thinking she might get a few hours of sleep if she eventually drifted off on the sofa. There was no rule that students had to be in their dormitories, they simply had to be in their common rooms before curfew. A single student, not causing any trouble, would not attract any attention.
She curled up on the huge, battered old red sofa before the fire, dimmed the lights a little, and tried to engross herself in a Transfiguration textbook. She still had so much to catch up on. It helped that in her sixth year she'd already been so far ahead that she'd worked halfway through the seventh-year textbook, otherwise she'd be in real trouble now. Her eyes refused to focus, however, and she kept finding herself drawn to the memory of Snape's face as he'd addressed the Great Hall earlier, advising them of the changes in the law, to which it was obvious that he did not agree with, but had been forced to impart the information as if he did, to the unspoken censure of everyone present.
His black eyes had been empty – expressionless. As if he'd put on an impenetrable mask. She suddenly longed to see them filled with the dark fire of lust that she'd seen in them, recently. A pulse between her legs confirmed the longing.
Her mind strayed to the times they had been intimate, with no embarrassment that she had been sleeping with the Headmaster, since her compulsion was now forcing her thoughts in that direction. Hermione opened her legs a little to relieve the swelling that was now building up in her genitals, feeling a trickle of fluid on the top of her thigh. She wanted to lower her hand and scratch away the itch, but knew from experience that this would lead to greater pain.
She needed his hands on her. Those large, safe hands with their long, skilful fingers that teased the most exquisite reactions from her body. Her stomach lurched as she imagined him laying atop her, his narrow hips coiling against her thighs as he pushed his penis inside her, filling her in ways that she'd never thought possible. She wanted to grasp his arse as he did so, forcing him harder and faster.
Oh shit.
Hermione picked up her textbook and forced herself to read from it, desperate to divert her thoughts, to hold the compulsion for as long as she could, for surely Professor Snape had had an awful day, with the Ministry visits and other stresses. If she managed to fall asleep she could make it until tomorrow before needing to disturb him.
What a joke.
Her pussy began to throb as if it was trying to expel her insides. It was painful, and she leapt from the sofa, walking around to see if that would ease the discomfort.
No such luck.
The pulsing was becoming more of an urgent pain, compelling her to seek the relief that the dark magic required, and to seek it as quickly as possible. So, this is what would happen if the compulsion was ignored. She remembered the first night that she'd volunteered to 'assist' Snape, in his office, and how much physical pain he had been in.
What could she do? The pain was wracking her body, but there was no way she could make it through the corridors to the Headmasters' office, and not without setting off a thousand alarms and traps that had no doubt been set by the Death Eaters to stop students wandering about during the night, and removing the necessity for them to undertake night patrols.
Looking around, she cast silencing charms and visual blocks on both doorways that led to the male and female dormitories. For good measure, she also sealed the portrait hole. Holding her cramping stomach, she crawled across the hearth rug and Floo called the Headmaster's office, as quietly as she could. Hermione heard his deep voice answer her almost immediately, and as he opened the connection, she stuck her head into the flames.
"Professor, please," she managed to gasp out.
"What is the matter, Miss Granger? Are you compelled?"
"Yes. Badly. Please, I need you."
"I am coming through. Move back."
She crawled backwards and sat on the floor, her aching spine leaning against the front of the sofa. The flames glowed green and he stepped through, over the grate and into the common room. Hermione was so relieved to see him that she could not stop the tears being squeezed from the corner of her eyes. He must have been preparing for bed, since he was barefoot and wearing only his black trousers and a white shirt, rolled to the elbows and unfastened at the top.
He put out his hand to her and pulled her to her feet, and she winced in pain.
"How long have you been like this? Why have you not sought assistance before?"
"Not long, honestly. It came on really quickly, and just … took me over."
He drew his wand and began to set the same wards on the doorways as she had, a confused expression on his face as his spells did not work.
"You have already set the charms?"
"I have."
"Impressive, as always. Now come, let us deal with the compulsion."
"Here?"
He looked down at her, his black eyes filled with that burning desire that she had wished to see only a few moments previously. His mouth was a set line, as if he were trying to remain neutral, but his nostrils flared with the deep breaths he was taking.
"Indeed, here."
He sat down in the corner of the sofa, pulling her down to sit on his lap, facing away from him with her legs either side of his.
"Lay back," he instructed, and she did so, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the feel of his strong chest behind her, supporting her.
She could have sworn he swore softly under his breath as he opened his own legs, spreading hers wide around them. Reaching under the loose cotton of her baggy pyjama shorts, his long fingers snaked straight into her pussy, rubbing the wet, spread labia to open them further and seek the sensitive, desperate parts within.
"Ohhh, god …" she moaned, tipping her hips against his fondling fingers.
"That's right, sweet girl," he murmured, turning his face so that his lips brushed her cheek with every word. "Enjoy your relief. I will provide whatever you need."
He sunk two fingers inside her, making her cry out for another, and so he added a third, twisting them hard and deep as he thumbed her clitoris, his other hand on her stomach, which had the duel benefit of warming her cramps, and holding her in place. She writhed under his touch, and felt the unmistakeable hardness of his erection beneath her.
"Are you compelled, too?" she asked, helplessly grinding against it.
"If I wasn't, I certainly am now," he muttered, not ceasing his masturbation of her wet pussy although he was now returning her grinding by pushing back against her arse.
"I'm sorry, Professor."
"Don't be. I started to feel the compulsion earlier. No doubt it would not have been long before I had need to call upon you."
"We can just, you know, do it, if you want? Get both of us, um, sorted in one?"
"Granger, I have started a task and I intend to finish it. Now, will you be quiet?"
She could feel him smirking against her cheek, and couldn't help grinning in spite of herself. His curling fingers were touching every part of her, and he'd just added his other hand to the mix, slipping it down the top of her shorts and taking hold of her hard clit and agitating it relentlessly. He had every single one of his digits hard at work, their only job to bring her to orgasm. She was rolling her hips in his lap, so over-aroused that it wasn't going to take much longer before she reached her limit.
"Yes," she panted, "just like that. Keep doing that."
Her hips now had a mind of their own, fucking his fingers that he was forcing inside her, every bounce hitting his now rock-solid erection. He was twisting her clitoris frantically, determined to extract her climax from the hard, desperate bud.
"Come," he growled, quietly against her cheek. "Come, so I can fuck you, little witch."
She could feel the rumble of his low, sensual voice through her spine, infused with an urgency that only increased her arousal. His fingers must have been a blur on her clit as his frantic masturbation finally tipped her over the edge, and her cunt pulsed around his invading fingers as she came, long and hard.
"Oh, fuck, yes," he muttered. "There's a good girl. You like this. You do like this."
He continued to praise her as she rode out the spasms of her climax, slowing his movements in time with hers. Once he had removed his fingers, he lifted her and almost threw her on the sofa alongside them, standing up and pulling her insubstantial shorts from her body at the same time.
Taking a quick look around him, he began to unfasten his trousers as she looked up at him, his tall frame illuminated from behind by the huge fire in the otherwise dark Gryffindor common room. She wasn't sure whether it was inappropriate to find him sexy, but the compulsion was certainly forcing that thought upon her. Staring straight into her eyes, he dropped his trousers.
He was wearing no undershorts, and his penis stood straight, fully erect and proud before her. Why had she never realised how big it was before? She supposed she'd never seen it from this angle. Snape saw her looking, and smirked.
"Like what you see, Granger?"
"If I said yes, would that be inappropriate?"
His eyes flashed, and he was upon her in a second, pushing his hips between her thighs to open her legs and guiding his cock inside her. Hermione felt a delicious sensation of fullness, the head of his penis touching her so very deep inside.
"I believe," he replied, "that this is far more inappropriate."
A flurry of quick little thrusts punctuated his answer.
"There's not a lot we can do about it though, is there, Sir?" she said, moving her hips against his to meet him at every thrust, enjoying the soft moans he was emitting.
"There is not. I suggest we just … unhh … just enjoy it.
She didn't reply. He was enjoying having sex with her. Whether it was magically compelled or not, he was still enjoying it. Her own compulsion assuaged, why shouldn't she enjoy it, too? She looked up at the high ceiling of the familiar common room, the huge tapestries on the red walls, around at the enormous stone fireplace, and finally at her dark professor, his long hair bouncing on his shoulders as he laboured above her. He was a dichotomy of danger and safety all wrapped up in one surprisingly alluring, unconventional package.
Hermione slipped a hand under the tumbling black strands and cupped his cheek softly, earning herself a look of amazement in return, and he stared her straight in the eyes. Clenching his teeth, he began to piston harder inside her, rolling and thrusting towards the inevitable conclusion.
She would certainly never look at this room again without remembering what (and who) she had done on the main common room sofa.
