Day 2

Hermione didn't sleep a wink that night. How could she with her rapist wrapped tightly around her, erection pressed tightly against her overheated body.

The rest of the previous night had been awkward, to say the least.

He had pulled her close, whispering in her ear, "There are eyes everywhere."

What the hell did he mean by that? Were they being watched constantly? Maybe some sort of monitoring charm?

What were they looking for? Testing his loyalty? His ability to control her? Their… joining?

He had rolled them both over then, pinning her to the mattress as he rutted on top of her.

"You need to fight me," he hissed under his breath.

She squirmed weakly, like a pathetic little kitten. Isn't that what he had called her earlier? 'Cub'? She lay frozen, confused. They were both clothed. Was he just pretending?

He sat up then, legs spread wide over her hips, keeping the blankets pulled around them as he grabbed the globes of her arse, pinching and squeezing hard enough to make her cry out.

"Yes, Pet. Fight me. Fight me and lose," his voice louder this time.

He thrust forward again, clothed cock brushing against her bum as he reached forward, gripping her wrists and pinning them down into the mattress.

"You're weak, little girl. Weak and pathetic. What power have you over me?"

He leaned forward again, hot breath tickling her ear. "Fucking move witch, or there will be hell to pay." His voice was hushed, so deep and low that she could barely register his voice, let alone the meaning.

She was so confused and scared. He started grinding against her harder—faster. She couldn't help but squirm now.

"P-please… please stop," she said tearfully.

"Almost done," he grunted. "You're taking my cock so well, cub," he sneered. "It's the only thing whores like you are good for."

With a grunt, he shivered above her, holding his body weight up for a few seconds before rolling off her.

"Sleep," he commanded. "You're going to have a very busy day tomorrow."

She shivered, accidentally bumping his still-hard manhood, causing a growl from the man behind her as he pulled her even closely against his body.

The sun was shining through the window, helping her body to awaken gently. She was thankful for this, she couldn't imagine being kept in the dungeons without any way to process time. That would drive her to insanity faster than anything else he was doing.

She needed the loo. Her bladder screamed at her. Was she allowed to move? The lightly snoring man plastered behind her didn't seem to be waking up any time soon… maybe she could just slip—

"Where are you going?" He was instantly awake, hand gripping her wrist with a bruising strength, black wand pointed directly at her throat.

"I— I need the bathroom," she whispered. She hated that she was currently staring at her bare feet on the flagstone instead of looking him in the eye. Maybe he really was breaking her.

"Piss and come back quickly. I have things to do and need to give you instruction." He dropped her wrist quickly, as if it had burned him, as he laid his head back against the headboard, grabbing a book off his nightstand and pulling it into his lap. His black eyes watched as she padded to the toilet. She could feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of her head, hating his stupid "no closed doors" rule.

She flushed and washed her hands, brushed her teeth, and walked back to the bed, swallowing back the bile that burned in the back of her throat. Snape looked up, closing the tome and swung his long legs over the bed, grabbing her by the shirt and pulling her in close so he could speak softly.

"You will listen to all my instructions today, Granger, is that clear?" He looked at her pointedly, black eyes swirling with some sort of emotion she couldn't place. Anger? Warning?

"Y-yes."

"You will call me 'Sir'," he commanded.

"Yes, Sir," she repeated.

"Good." He pushed her away from himself, standing and walking to the bathroom, to complete his own ablutions. When he came out, he was dressed fully in his black teaching robes.

"I will be brewing all day," he started. "You will eat all your provided meals. You will clean the bedroom in between. If you complete your tasks, and feel I will be pleased, you may summon me through Kreacher. Otherwise I shall see you this evening." He was standing at the door now, hand on the knob when he turned his head slightly, speaking over his shoulder.

"Don't disappoint me, Granger. I do not wish to punish you again." Then he was gone.

Hermione exhaled a sigh of relief. She was almost giddy, to be left alone like this. Should she try to leave? Likely he had some sort of wards set. Maybe she should try to see where these mysterious "eyes" were. She looked around, not finding any portraits or anything that could possibly report on them. In the office, sure. But not here.

She took advantage of her freedom this morning. She crawled back into the bed and curled up in the blanket. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was somewhere safe and warm. Perhaps she could relax a little before she got to work? She looked around the room, eyes settling on Snape's discarded book.

Should she? Her fingers twitched, itching to grab the tome and give her atrophying mind some much needed sustenance. She figured, if he truly minded, he'd have the book warded or protected with some sort of dark magic. When her fingers brushed the cover and nothing happened, she figured it was safe, flipping it open to the first page. It was an old textbook. She wrinkled her forehead, confused as to why the man would be interested in sitting there reading it. She allowed it to fall open, careful to not crease the spine in any way. Eyes hungrily raked over the page.

It was all about poisons and venoms. She thumbed through a couple more pages, finding one dogeared. She looked at the picture of the wriggling snake at the top of the page. The specific breed of snake was unclear, it looked as if someone had spilled their drink on this page. But she was positive she knew what breed it was. It looked exactly like that wretched snake that Voldemort kept with him.

She shut the book, mind whirling with possibilities. With a sigh, she went to the loo to grab the bucket and supplies from yesterday and started scrubbing the floor, wiping up Snape's boot prints from the night before. It was going to be a long day, and she could plot as she cleaned.

Day 3

Snape had returned after midnight, she guessed. Hermione was too scared to stop cleaning, fearful of whatever punishment he would dole out. Instead, he must have found her asleep on the floor, fingers still clinging to the bucket of soapy water.

He had to have taken her to bed at some point; that's where she woke up. There was a note, written in his spiky handwriting, globs of ink splattered about as if he was in a hurry.

The bathroom needs recleaning. If there is as much as a piece of dust left on the floor, there will be dire consequences.

She rolled her eyes. She wasn't some child he was babysitting. She stretched in the bed, noting that she wasn't sore. It had also been a full 24 hours since he'd taken her.

She smiled softly. Perhaps that aspect was over and she could just be used as a maid. She could easily survive that. She called out for Kreacher to leave her required gruel. She forced as much of it down as she possibly could. The texture made her want to gag on the flavorless paste, but again, she was too fearful to risk his wrath on something as trivial as food.

She grabbed her supplies and walked into the loo. She glanced around at what she would have considered a pristine lavatory. She walked around to the toilet and, sure enough, there were crumbled pieces of paper around the bin.

Why were men so disgusting and lazy?

She picked them up, getting ready to toss them when something caught her eye. She looked around, to make sure she was alone. When she was positive, she slowly unfolded the paper, reading over what was written. It looked like some sort of formula. There were lines crossed out, notes written in the margins. She couldn't make sense of it but… perhaps she could hide it under the mattress until she could solve it.

She made quick work of the rest of the room before leaving to go to the office. Suddenly, she wished Snape would provide her with better clothing. She had been wearing his pants and shirt since she'd gotten there, and admittedly, they were starting to smell. She looked around, eyeing the gossiping portraits. They all looked down on her, moving between frames and whispering. She looked desperately for Dumbledore. When she found him, her heart sank to notice he was asleep. Had his portrait not awakened yet? She was desperate to talk to someone… someone she trusted.

She cleaned as well as she could, ignoring the whispers of the portraits, and the leering of Headmaster Black. Oh yes, she remembered him alright. He'd definitely not help her, he was likely still angry for being moved from his ancestral home.

XOX

She had been about halfway finished when Snape burst through the door. Eyes black and feral, body hunched over in pain.

No… no no no—

Without a word, he walked up to her, grabbing a handful of her hair and dragging her to the bedroom. Hermione let out a scream as her neck burned from being bent unnaturally.

The portraits yelled out in protest, some of them anyway, not that they could actually do anything to help her. Still, it was nice to know she had some support. Snape ignored them, pushing the door to his bedroom open and pushed her inside.

She stumbled forward, barely managing to get her feet under her to not fall on the floor. Snape was hurriedly undressing, buttons flying off as he breathed heavily. She simply stood in the middle of the floor, fingers laced in front of her with her head downcast. Hopefully her sign of submission would save her some of the pain.

"Bathroom. Wooden box above the toilet. Go now!" He growled.

Hermione looked up, seeing Snape standing there, bent over and holding his ribs, dark blood dripping down his back and onto the floor. She gasped, unable to tear her eyes away.

"Now, Granger!"

She jumped, scurrying away to grab the box he sought.

Snape's dexterous fingers danced over each of the bottles, seeking out the ones he needed. He grabbed a dark green one, pulling the cork out with his crooked teeth before swallowing about half. He was breathing heavily but seemed a little more calm. After a few minutes, he grabbed a second bottle—dittany. He tried to look behind himself awkwardly, almost helpless as he pondered how best to apply it.

Hermione didn't know what came over her at that moment, but he just looked so broken. She slowly reached out.

"Sir?" She whispered. "Can I help?"

He looked up at her, his eyes still black and feral. He looked scared, almost, beneath all the anger and pain. He closed his eyes for a second before breathing deeply and handing her the bottle. She walked around behind him, taking a look at his back for the first time.

She sobbed, unwillingly, for just a moment. He was obviously whipped. This was the second time he'd come back injured. Just what did he do to earn himself such a punishment? It was enough to earn him some sympathy. She squeezed the dropper full of the potion onto his back, Snape hissed as the skin closed. She had walked to the bathroom, grabbed a flannel and ran it under some warm, soapy water.

He let out a moan as she ran the cloth over his back, cleaning away the blood. She blushed a little, causing that noise to escape him. Her heart beat faster with the idea that she had helped him. Perhaps he was on her side after all? This certainly was more intimate and gentle than it needed to be. He obviously trusted her on some level, right?

She cleaned up the supplies, putting everything back where it belonged. Snape hadn't moved a muscle when she returned. His eyes still fixated straight ahead, still burning black and feral. She stood beside him, frowning slightly in confusion.

"Sir?"

"You need to leave. Go, lock the bathroom door," he groaned, pushing her back and away from him.

"I-I don't—"

"I can't control—" he tried to steady his breathing, eyes clenched shut. "Just go."

She was frozen, desperate to hear what else he'd let slip. His hand darted out, grabbing her by the wrist and squeezing hard enough to cause her knees to buckle. He threw her towards the bed, forcing her chest to lay down against the mattress, arse in the air with one of his large hands.

"No! Please… I don't understand!" She cried. What had happened? She had just healed him… she thought—

"I told you to leave," he whispered. His voice sounded hoarse, almost apologetic. She turned, hoping to talk some sense to him. She noticed the curse sink its claws into him at that moment. He looked fearful of himself, holding himself still, breathing deeply as the muscles in his jaw twitched from his grinding teeth. He was fighting it, she could tell. But a sweat broke out over him, his body pulling in on itself as he lost his battle. When he reopened his eyes, he had that haunted, predatory look about him, the same one he had the other morning.

He tore her pants down, muttered the lubrication spell, and buried himself as deep as possible inside her.

It was more painful this time, perhaps more so because she had started to trust him. He hadn't taken her in an entire day. He let her heal and wash him. He hadn't beaten her. Was the curse truly responsible for it all? He was quiet this time, thankfully. She didn't think she could cope with him hissing in her ear constantly.

He reached around, using his fingers on her again, finding that sensitive spot between her legs and rubbing. Oh, she cried at that. Him forcing her to feel pleasure during this was perhaps the most revolting part. This is what would break her, she was sure of it.

"No… please," she said weakly, knowing there was no possible way to make him stop.

"You have to," he whispered. "Come… and this can be over."

With a sob, she closed her eyes, allowing her forced orgasm to ripple through her—. Muscles clenching around his invading length as she cried. His fingers dug into her hips as he thrust harder, growling and grunting until he, too, found his release. He pushed away from her and walked to the bathroom.

Again, Hermione heard the shower run as she was left lying there— broken, crying, and with his seed dripping down her thighs.

He exited, fully clothed, without even looking at her. Once she heard the door close, she walked to the loo, in desperate need to bathe as well. She found a pain potion on the counter, already poured out and measured. As well as a clean pair of clothing.

She sank to the floor and cried again. Just who was Severus Snape?

Day 4

"Get up, Granger." Snape jostled her shoulder, waking her up. Again, she found herself in his bed, unable to determine when or how she had gotten there.

He had hurt her, that she remembered. He had been having a night terror, thrashing around and screaming. She had tried to wake him, which was a mistake. He had choked her then, tried to strangle the life out of her as she struggled. Her cries seemed to have brought him fully to consciousness then. He withdrew quickly– horrified when he saw what he had done. He leaned over the side of the bed, retching before drawing her a bath. He walked her over to the tub, dumped some potions inside and lifted her into it. He let her soak for what seemed like hours before helping her back to the bed.

Now, he was waking her up, standing over her as he nudged her shoulder again. She dragged her exhausted, used body out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. When she opened them, she could have sworn she saw Snape looking at her with concern, but it was a quick flash and she could have been imagining things.

He guided her to the living room, having her sit on the sofa beside him while Kreacher brought them some breakfast. She looked at him then, confused. He never sat with her to eat breakfast and he never gave her anything other than that disgusting paste.

"It is Saturday," he offered. "You have pleased me and I felt a reward was in order." He reached down to pick up his cup of coffee, blowing the steam away before taking a sip. He looked relaxed for the first time. It was almost… nice.

It put her on edge immediately. For every good deed this man had done, he returned it back with a vengeance, being horribly cruel and violent. She started to shake. Just what kind of torture was she in store for after this?

"Eat," he said, gesturing to her plate.

Hermione stared back at him, dumbly.

Snape rolled his eyes, dropping his fork and standing up. She flinched immediately. The Headmaster pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply.

"What did I say about having a woman that flinched?" he murmured. He walked over to the bookcase, seeming to pluck one at random. He laid it down gently on the table, pushing it towards her.

"I used to think you were intelligent, Granger. Perhaps that swotty mind of yours has atrophied from lack of stimulation. Here," he gestured to the book, waiting for her to pick it up. "Your reward for the day. Read it. Do as you wish for today, so long as you stay away from me. This will be a trial for how long of a leash I can allow. Don't make me regret this decision girl." He left, then, closing the door behind him. It would seem, Snape worked on weekends too.

Good. She thought bitterly. After sitting for a few minutes, ensuring it wasn't some sort of trap, she opened the book.

It was the same one she had found in his room, although this time she could actually read it.

It was about Runes of all things. How did he know that was one of her favorite classes? She sighed happily, for the first time in months. She tucked her feet underneath herself on the sofa, pulling her cup of tea close and read by the fire.

It was Advanced Rune Translation. She was thrilled to have her mind stimulated again– she hadn't read this book since the start of her 6th year, and even then she didn't fully appreciate its complexity, what with preparing for the war and all. She never got to take her NEWT level classes, but enjoyed it at OWL level, even if she did mix up ehwaz and eihwaz on the exam.

She'd never forgive herself for that simple mistake. How simple life was back then.

She pushed open the book and started from the beginning.

By lunch, Snape had returned. He looked stressed. His eyes looked haunted, skin pale and clammy. She simply couldn't resist herself.

"Sir?" She stood up from where she was lounging, closing the book and looking at him with concern. Whether it was concern for him, or for her own safety, she wasn't sure. She knew what these moods usually meant– her body had started to react to him as if she was some sort of perverse Pavlovian experiment. She cursed herself as she waited for him to respond.

"Your presence will be required in front of the Dark Lord this evening. You and your…friends… will all be in attendance.

"Wha-what?" she gasped, tears already pricking her eyes.

She looked into those black eyes then, pleading for some sort of guidance. For the love of Merlin– if you're on our side, if you're truly Dumbledore's man… please… tell me now. ..

He looked every bit as haunted as she felt.

"Go bathe. I shall provide you with an appropriate dress for the evening. I want you to look nice and smell nice."

She cringed. Why on earth did she have to dress up for this like it was some kind of bloody ball?

Unless it was?

She nodded her head before disappearing into the bathroom to soak.

He had entered the room a few minutes later, closing the door behind himself. Hermione was instantly on edge, pointlessly covering her body from his gaze. He had said the door needed to be open at all times. Why close it now?

"This is a test, Granger," he said, sitting down on the floor with his back against the door. He pulled his wand from his sleeve, spinning it around his fingers as he contemplated what he wanted to say next. "A test for both of us. I cannot allow any errors tonight. Do you understand? He looked at her with the same, confusing expression he tended to get before he did something truly heinous.

"Yes."

"The marking the Dark Lord instructed me to give you should allow me to control your every action and behavior. It was a gift he granted to only myself. A reward for my loyalty."

She looked at him blankly. She felt no compulsion to follow any of his instructions. In fact, the only reason she listened was because of fear.

"Obviously," he continued, "my mark has not caused the actions." His eyes trailed to her forearm. She turned her arm so she could run her fingers over the scarring. She tried to avoid it as frequently as possible. She didn't want a reminder. But looking at it now, all she felt was confusion.

Snape was a fastidious, precise man above all things. He demanded order and perfection. So why did he allow for some of the letters in his name to be incomplete? The "S" was too jagged, the "N" misaligned, the "A" was missing the crossbar, the "P" seemed too pointed, and the "E" trailed off at the end, completely missing the bottom.

If she were honest— it barely passed for his name. In fact it almost looked like—

"Runes," she gasped. Eyes snapping up to look at his expression.

His eyes burned. His expression dark and edgy.

"We cannot speak here, Granger, we don't have the time. This bathroom is the only place that isn't monitored, do you understand?"

Her heart was racing. What did this mean? Was she safe? Was he going to protect her? Free her friends? For the first time in months she felt a surge of relief and joy, she just wanted to hug him and cry and scream.

"This will be one of the worst evenings of your life, Miss Granger. Your compliance determines both of our fates."

"I'll obey you, sir. I'll do everything you say," she was almost smiling now— giddy.

"There's no possible way you could, Miss Granger. Save the Gryffindor mentality for a better time. I will, however, give you a choice."

She nodded her head for him to continue.

"I can imperius you. You will feel relaxed and at ease, compelled to do as I wish without thought or complaint. You won't have any negative feelings or emotions during the evening, however, once the curse is lifted… it will be… emotional."

She thought about that, unsure if it was the best decision.

"Or, I can give you a potion. You'll be able to process things as they come, however, you will be unable to do anything about it. You will feel your hatred and fear, but it is possibly more gentle on your psyche in the long term.I'll leave you to think about it."

He stood, nodded at her once, before fixing his face with the hateful sneer she knew was a mask, and left.

She scrubbed herself, thinking over what decision she should make. Would it be better to enjoy the night, for lack of a better word, and have a large crash after, or suffer through, paralyzed to do anything about it. Decision made, she got out of the bath, wrapping in a towel before entering the bedroom to get dressed.

Snape had left a whorish dress out for her, which only made her sick to the stomach. It was only centimeters away from showing her bits, Merlin forbid she had to pick something up, she would be giving the entire room a show. The entire dress was a translucent lace, only covering her most private of areas with a thicker, more opaque material.

There was only one reason to wear a dress like this.

She ran back to the bathroom, vomiting twice before putting it on. Snape had stomped into the bathroom after her, slamming the door.

"You're not giving me much confidence in your coping abilities, Miss Granger. Perhaps an obliviate—"

"No!" She didn't want him anywhere near her head. "No. I can do it, really. Do the imperious."

"Granger—" he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You won't cope well."

"You don't have a choice."

"Fine," he growled.

Hermione swallowed and closed her eyes as soon as she saw the ebony wand pointed at her temple.

"Imperio."