The Dark Lord had finally caught the proverbial Gryffindor Princess.

He was randy and he was going to have his way with her, thus sticking the middle finger straight into the Chosen One's face. Take that, Harry Potter, old nemesis.

At first Severus Snape, his right hand, thought he ought to be jesting.

When he realized he was not, he got to work. Dumbledore didn't care for anyone, but the four-eye, but Minerva...oh Minerva Mcgonagall would skin him alive if her favourite student got frisked by the Second Coming of Evil.

If she was the princess, he would have to be her knight in silver armour.

"Granger. Hermione!" he whispered through the bars of the holding cell.

She stirred in the darkness.

"It is Professor Snape," he said, removing his Death Eater mask. "I'm here to help."

"It's hopeless," she whimpered. "I'll never get out. They've got my wand and my textbooks."

"What we are about to do will require neither-" he stopped. "Do you trust me?"

"Not really," she sniffled.

Alright. Next question. "Do you want to go free?"

"Yes!"

"Then come closer and lift your robes."

-x-x-x-

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" chortled the Dark Lord. "Here she is! My priiizeee."

Hermione Granger was brought forth and showcased in all her splender to his black-hearted majesty. She was bare and wearing only her house-slippers (because the Dark Lord hated filthy floors).

"Bring her to me," he hissed.

Hermione was brought up to his throne and made to kneel on a footstool before in. The Dark Lord stood and took in a good whiff of his dessert before scrunching up his nose.

"Bah!" he cried. "That smell. Muggle seed had been sown inside these gardens!'"

He made a barfing sound. "Take her away. I do not wish to cavort with the soiled girl."

And Hermione, bowing, was led away into the corridor.

-x-x-x-

"That was a close call!" Snape whispered in her ear as he led her down the corridor.

"I feel insulted," she mumbled covering her dignity with her hands. "He called me soiled."

"Don't be. Your performance was more than adequate for the correct connoisseur," he remarked.

"Thank you?"

"Always."

They walked in silence through the maze of damask-wallpapered halls with gloomy socialist posters with the words "you can't do it" and 'if you can read this, you're not working hard enough'.

"Do you think he will remember me?" she asked.

"Best hope not," Snape said. "There is the back door. Take my extra robes and Apparate out!"

Suddenly, bright flashing lights lit up the the hallways.

"Egad," he groaned. "What now?"

-x-x-x-

Ron Weasley and Harry Potter rolled into the throne room.

They had their wands about them, but no Hermione and her brilliant plans.

The plan was, they were going to say "you're cooked, hand over Hermione" and hope for the best. It came out as "you're Hermione, hand over cook." And worse, Ron tripped over his trousers (a hand me down from his older brother) and took Harry along with him.

The Dark Lord laughed. "Ha! Look here. The Mudblood's saviours: Rolly-Polly and Bimbo."

His followers clapped. The Dark Lord grinned. His plans were, as always, ineffable.