"Don't say a word otherwise you'll ruin the gesture," Hermione warned through slightly gritted teeth, trying to ignore the uncharacteristically bright expression on Antonin's face. If he slipped into smugness, she was going to throw the damn thing in his face - regardless of the mess it would undoubtedly cause.
"Am I allowed to say 'thank you', milaya?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a step closer to her.
She momentarily pursed her lips while she considered her answer. "Fine," she said rather ungraciously.
Amusement danced in his eyes, aggravating her further, but as he continued to lessen the gap between them, she was distracted by the scent of him and the increased yearning for his touch against her burning and needy skin. Desperate though she was for him to satisfy those urges within her, she was still surprised when he lowered his face to her own. It was fortunate that his hand had joined hers around the glass containing his dessert because she certainly would have dropped it as she became swept along by his ardent kiss. A range of emotions rushed through her - the blissful relief of his touch, a further ignition of lust, lingering anger over their previous argument, confusion about why she had gone to the effort of fulfilling another food-based request, and apprehension about his move into the Order's custody because though it would ward off a lot of dangers, it might mean that they didn't get to do this anymore…
After kissing her so thoroughly that she had forgotten to breathe and was on the verge of passing out, Antonin drew back. "Thank you for my trifle, milaya." Her head still swam from the overpowering way he had expressed his gratitude, and she could only blink dazedly as he brushed his lips over hers once more and tugged the dessert glass definitively from her hold. He held it up so he could admire the distinctive layers of cream, custard and jelly then set it on the desk. Slowly coming to her senses, Hermione frowned at the pudding that she had been unable to stop herself from procuring for him. It had consistently nagged at her upon her return to the school last week until she had given in and made a visit to the kitchens to make her request for the travel-suitable dessert. Previously, she had spent weeks and months denying him what he desperately craved - her. She didn't like the implication that she was softening towards him. Lines would have to be redrawn once he was relocated…
"I'm sure I'll enjoy eating that almost as much as getting another taste of you," Antonin said. His eyes darted hungrily back to her face and he came towards her once more. "Presuming, of course, that you'll let me this time." He ran the back of his hand down her cheek without actually touching her, cruelly allowing her to feel no more than a breath of warmth from his skin, rather than the real thing.
Oh, she very much wanted him - and not just because she needed soothing from the curse - but she also had her pride. "My exams start tomorrow," she said, side-stepping him and beginning to pull her supplies from her cloak's enchanted pocket. "I have a lot I want to get done." Book after book began to be piled on his desk.
Arms suddenly wrapped around her, his chest flush against her back. One hand was splayed over her scar, his little finger tantalisingly close to where she wanted him the most, even though there were several layers of clothing in the way. The thumb of his other hand stroked back and forth between her breasts and his middle finger traced the underwire of a bra cup. He let out a small, low noise that sounded a bit like disappointment. "You're wearing one this week." His proximity, his hold, his scent and the rumble in his chest as he spoke were already enough to have her flushing and flustered, but his words made her cringe and she was sure her face was glowing pink. She was glad she was looking away from him. She still didn't know what she'd been thinking coming to him like that. Had her lack of bra been noticed by anyone - her friends, the aurors and (Merlin forbid) Snape - she would've been utterly mortified. As delighted as Antonin had been at her daring move, she wasn't going to be taking such a risk ever again. That redrawing of boundary lines was definitely needed.
Antonin's hand shifted, fingers cupping her breast. His nose nuzzled her cheek, such a small amount of relief but it was so desperately needed that her eyes closed so she could bask in the pleasure.
"So how are we going to work off your burning this week?" The hand at her scar lifted so that he could push her hair aside and press his lips to her neck.
She let out a shuddering sigh. Unbearable heat was pulsing through her body. She needed to lose her cloak and robe - it was too much, she couldn't think. Weakly, she fingered the clasp of her cloak, too caught up in the feel of his mouth at her neck, but he picked up on her need - or perhaps he was as eager as her to get a little closer to her skin - because he undid her cloak and pulled it from her shoulders to throw unconcernedly to one side. The relief was only minimal with her robes and dress still on and the return of his lips to her neck, but his kisses and licks felt too wonderful for her to push him away for now. One hand was still fondling her breast and the other had lowered back towards her abdomen but, after stroking his palm across the location of her scar, he moved further south and cupped between her legs. Instinctively, her hips bucked, seeking the relief she desperately wanted from him. It had been over two weeks since she had come apart under him and she was struggling to hide how eager she was to satisfy her lust. And, judging by the bulge she could feel at her rear and the rucking upwards of the hems of her robes and dress, Antonin very much wanted her in return.
With the material bunched at her waist, his palm was free to slowly slide up her bare thigh. She knew she should stop him but it felt so damn good that all she was capable of doing was turning her head so that she could kiss him. It was a somewhat awkward angle but desire overpowered comfort. Complex thought was impossible but she was still aware that Antonin had been uncharacteristically quiet and she was quite sure that it was because he didn't want to do anything that might make her stop him and push him away. She should. She absolutely should but… His hand was getting closer and closer to the apex of her thighs. If she didn't break things off now, then there was little chance she'd have the consciousness to do so later on. Her body was alive with the thrill of anticipation, heady lust, and exquisite bliss radiating from his touch. She'd sworn that she would never let herself be completely swept away by succumbing to such intimacy when her curse was at its peak. But with his impending move, this would probably be her last chance to experience the ultimate peak of pleasure and she wanted to know, her body yearned for it before it was too late. Those redrawn boundaries were a safety net for her to cast her concerns onto: everything was going to change anyway so why not take advantage whilst she still could? There was only one chief concern and if she could safeguard that…
His fingers stroked the damp crotch of her underwear and she whimpered against his lips. Her hips rolled again, pushing her more insistently against both the hand beneath her and his groin behind. The fingers at her breast tightened around her nipple and he slid his lips sideways so they could both pant in breaths. She just knew he was about to speak but she cut him off. "No talking," she demanded breathlessly. "If we're going to do this, I don't want you to say anything." If he didn't talk, he couldn't ask her dangerous questions that she might unconsciously answer - but she couldn't exactly tell him that. "I - I just want to feel you," she added, hoping her reasoning was convincing enough. "Nothing else."
Antonin pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and ground his clothed erection against her behind, perhaps showing his eagerness to let her 'feel' him. The hand between her legs withdrew and moved to her hip, the fabric of her dress and robes still caught at her waist and leaving her thighs indecently exposed. "I only have one question, moya mechta." With a slight pressure at her hip, he encouraged her to turn to face him.
If possible, her craving for him increased at the sight of the unfiltered lust evident in his handsome features. Just as she was lamenting that his skin wasn't actually in contact with hers, he lifted his hand to gently cup her cheek, his thumb delicately tracing over her skin. "Tell me," his tone was light, conversational, but his gaze was intent. "Have you met up with Theodore Nott since your last visit here?"
"No."
She resented the question but that hadn't prevented the truth from passing through her lips. The approving gleam in his eyes suggested that he saw her response as a victory, but (despite her niggling annoyance at his persistence in attempting to dictate her movements) her need for his touch at the most intimate parts of her prevented her from elaborating that she hadn't gone out of her way to avoid Nott, that it was the Slytherin who had been keeping away from her.
Antonin's mouth was suddenly back on hers, his lips demanding, his hand clutching at her possessively as he brought their bodies together, cutting off any thoughts from her that weren't simply a demand for more. Even as she stroked her tongue along Antonin's, she plucked at the fabric of his robes in a silent request to gain further access to his blessed skin. When that didn't work, she tugged fistfuls of the garment upwards until he joined in her endeavour. Their mouths parted for the shortest time possible as the robes were pulled over his head, and then his lips claimed her once more. He let her run her hands over his back and chest for a few seconds before it was his turn to object to her clothing. She was met with a blast of cooler air as he succeeded in tugging both her robes and dress over her head at the same time. She could feel his eyes on her as she toed off her shoes and socks, and there was a strange muted sound from his throat. When she glanced up, she saw that his lips were pressed tightly together in apparent necessity to prevent him from speaking as he stared at her body. A strange part of her might miss whatever crude compliment he'd likely repressed, but the hunger in his gaze and the eager way he reached for her spoke enough words in the silence.
She allowed herself to be tugged towards the bed, aware of little besides the incredible, exhilarating feeling of having swathes of his skin touching hers, and he wasn't even in contact with the most sensitive parts of her yet. But she knew by their heated, impatient movements that it wouldn't be long - events felt like they were rapidly moving towards a peak and neither was showing any inclination to slow things down. Antonin pushed aside her bra straps as she tugged and twisted at the fastening of his trousers. It was almost a race as to who could unclothe the other first, needy lips and tongues following in the wake of fingers. They stumbled as Hermione pushed at the waistbands of both his trousers and underwear, and they practically fell onto the bed in a heap of limbs.
She was able to toss her bra aside as they righted themselves, and Antonin kicked himself free of his offending garments before he used his arms to pin down her thighs. She only had a brief moment to wonder what he was about to do next before she felt the scrape of his lips at her hips as he began to drag down her underwear with his teeth. A strangled noise escaped her throat and she was sure she felt him smile against her skin as he helped her lift her rear to aid the removal. He kept them gripped in his teeth until he had slid them all the way down her legs and then threw them aside with a jerk of his head.
She lay, naked and panting, in exquisite anticipation of what was to come. Her body might still be burning but it was also utterly alive, every sense heightened and fixated on the man who could bring her over the point of ecstasy into a land of rapture.
He knelt back, hand stroking over his cock as he brought himself fully erect. Restless and needy, she drew a hand over her chest, fingers catching on her nipples, but he shook his head sharply. "No." He climbed over her, releasing his cock so he could take her hands in his, forcing them above her head. "You said you just want to feel me and nothing else." His low tone was the one he often used when they were having sex and it was a welcome sound even if she'd told him not to talk. He moved their hands together and then adapted his grip so he was restraining both of her hands with just one of his. "So feel me."
Antonin's lips on hers - wonderful though they were - were no match for the wondrous, intense sensations brought about by his free hand as it caressed and teased her breasts and scar. The pleasure was at a level she had never experienced before. It was almost too much for her to handle but she made no move to stop him. She had no time to get used to it before his hand was moving lower, circling the edge of her sex and making her hips buck even though she had no awareness that she was doing so. His fingers only dragged through her folds once - ripping a passionate cry from her as she tore her mouth away from his - before a finger sank into her opening.
"Yes!" It felt like her mind was melting, it couldn't comprehend the strength of the waves of pleasure sweeping through her as Antonin pumped and twisted his finger inside her. She hadn't come - she knew very well what that felt like now and there was no snap release of tension or clenching of her inner walls yet - but the most intense sexual, pleasurable energy was rippling through her body. The addition of a second finger quicker than she was used to, had her whimpering at the stretch but it wasn't unwelcome. "Yes, Merlin, yes," she moaned but she soon let out a whine of despair when Antonin removed his fingers. She opened her eyes, unaware that she'd even closed them, and the lust haze in her brain cleared ever so slightly at the loss. Antonin's free hand was at her cheek, his fingers damp with her slick and he seemed to be looking for some clarity in her gaze. When he saw that he had it, he moved his hand to his cock, positioned so close to where she longed for it to be.
"You asked for this," he told her. A handful of rapid heartbeats passed in silence and Hermione had the awareness that she could stop him if she wanted to. But she didn't.
So he thrust into her, nearly filling her up in one.
Hermione opened her mouth but no sound came out. The shock of the new burst of indescribable pleasure as his curse-relieving touch suddenly filled her most intimate part caused a delay in the rest of her body's reactions. Antonin had already started jerking his hips with deep, steady thrusts before a long high moan escaped from her lungs. She was definitely starting to lose her grip on reality because his free hand seemed to be everywhere at once - her scar, her thighs, her breasts, her clit, her cheek, her throat - heightening her arousal and enjoyment as he continued to drive into her at an unrelenting pace.
Her hands had struggled against his hold - not that she'd wanted him to release her - but it was difficult for her to resist the urge to grab onto whatever parts of him she could get and pull him close. Now he took her other hand back, keeping them above her head and slotting the fingers of each hand through hers. His body seemed to crowd her, surrounding her and delivering touches of his glorious skin all over her where the lines of their heated bodies met. His mouth briefly captured her lips but the rocking of their bodies made it difficult to maintain the connection. Instead, he ducked his head to her neck and shoulder: kissing, licking and nipping as mind-bending pleasure still radiated from their joined bodies. Hermione wasn't sure how she hadn't burst into a million pieces at the intensity of what she was feeling. Her world was purely pleasure, nothing else existed.
She felt that familiar coiling within her, and she chased her release as though it was her sole purpose in life. It crashed over her, illuminating her world in sparks of white and gold, every fibre of her being awash with the most wonderful pleasure. How long she was in that blissful state, she couldn't say. But just as that sensation started to ebb, she loosely became aware that she was at the beginning of another peak. She didn't seek this one quite as desperately as she had her first, but luxuriated in the delicious rising pressure until it, too, released a burst of ecstasy through her that left her adrift of all other senses except her pleasure.
And then the cycle began again…
Hermione's eyes blinked open with sudden awareness.
She was met with the curve of Antonin's jaw and the arc of a cheekbone. A glance upwards without moving her neck revealed a closed eye but she could feel one of his hands trailing over her hip and thigh so she knew he wasn't asleep. His touch - and all the many places where their bodies met - was pleasant enough but the sensation was mild. The curse had been sated but her memory was hazy. She knew they'd had sex, could remember some of it - well, could remember how intensely pleasurable it had felt to have his body touching the most sensitive parts of her when the curse was still at its peak. Her body was relaxed and at peace now, sated after the culmination of sex even if she had no distinct memory of how things had ended.
The afterglow of sex with Antonin - whether she was waking from slumber or remained conscious - was far more enjoyable than she had realised it would be before they had taken the plunge. Warm, content and protected in Antonin's embrace, she wasn't beset by thoughts of regret or disgust at what they shared, like she'd feared.
She was going to miss it almost as much as the sex itself.
She didn't know whether it was foolish or for the best to assume that their chances of being intimate were going to be non-existent when Antonin was moved into Order custody. Without seeing the location or knowing exactly how he was to be guarded, she couldn't claim that sex was completely off the table going forwards even though she kept telling herself that was the case. Was she doing that to mentally prepare herself for the change? Or because she wanted them to stop having sex? But that was, unfortunately, an internal conflict: some part of her knew that it would make things easier if she could stop herself from wanting to have sex with Antonin, but there was another part of her that balked at the prospect of abstaining from such intimacies. Far easier to pretend that sex was going to be an impossibility, that she wouldn't have a choice in the matter, because she wasn't at all sure she could trust herself with such a decision anymore - not when Antonin would surely be using all his powers of persuasion for her to give in to what they both wanted. Unfortunately, she had recently shown how difficult it was for her to deny him even when it wasn't sex that he was after.
Antonin turned his face fully towards her, eyes now open and a half-smile pulling at his lips. She blushed at having been caught staring but he made no comment, merely lowered his face slightly so he could kiss her softly. "Good," he murmured as he pulled back. "I was going to wake you soon. You've been out for longer than normal. I thought too much sleep now might prevent you from getting a proper rest overnight, and we can't have that with the start of your exams in the morning."
Against her will, warmth spread across her chest at his words and easy affection. She attempted to harden her heart against him, which was made more difficult when he lowered his lips to hers once more. He abruptly rolled over, pulling her body with him so that she was laying on his chest and she let out a surprised half gasp, half laugh against his mouth. His kisses became a little less gentle, his hands moving over her bare back and arse with more purpose, and she could feel his hard length pressing against her thigh. It was a welcome shift - far more comforting to assume that he had wanted her to wake purely for more sex rather than believing that he respected how much she cared about her exams. She could hardly describe him as a selfless man. Yet, for now, he didn't seem minded to push their embrace towards anything more sexual. A hand at her cheek had her lifting her head slightly to end their kiss.
His gaze briefly ran over her face before settling on her eyes. "I take it that you enjoyed that, milaya."
She frowned. "The kiss?"
He gave a little snort. "The sex," he corrected. She could feel heat instantly blooming in her cheeks. "I lost count of how many times I felt you come on my cock."
She was sure that her face must be glowing and she briefly lowered her eyes. "Oh. From what I remember, I know that it felt incredible - even beyond anything I've experienced before. But I don't actually remember that much. My memory goes a bit hazy after you were in me and then nothing at all."
He hummed. "I thought as much. I could feel that you were very much there in body, but not in spirit."
Hermione pushed on his chest so that she could raise herself up a little higher. "I'm sorry. Did it still feel good for you?"
He gave her a disbelieving look. "Are you joking? With your cunt near constantly clamping down and stimulating my cock? Of course it still felt fucking good." His fingers pressed into her arse and there was the slightest flex of his hips. "But I much prefer it, my zhar-ptitsa, when I'm looking into your eyes as I'm driving into you and you're gazing right back at me with my name on your lips, when I know you're there in the moment with me." His hand was at her cheek again, his words and touch equally soft. "The two of us together. We're something special, you and I, wouldn't you say?"
Hermione was caught in his gaze. Her thoughts and emotions battling inside. Did he mean what he said? Did she want him to mean what he said? The contrast of working to make him care for her so that it reduced the risk to her life, whilst simultaneously fearing his feelings and consequently her own was driving her mad.
When he was moved, she would know. His reaction to a life away from Voldemort would tell her what he really wanted, how he truly felt about her. Until then, she refused to acknowledge her own feelings for the man beyond her wish to save him from the life he'd been born into. Exactly a year on from when the curse had been cast, she was no nearer escaping her connection to him. If anything, she had been pulled deeper and deeper into Antonin Dolohov.
With her recent focus on her studies, she'd had little time to spare to work on countering his curse so she would remain bound to him for the foreseeable future. And if the man before her took the opportunity to be rehabilitated? If he truly cared for her and her wellbeing as he claimed? Would she risk opening her heart to him as she had already surrendered her body?
No - she wouldn't think on it. In a week, maybe two, she would see him more clearly than ever before. And then she would know.
For now, she would tell him what he wanted to hear. "Yes, Antonin," she agreed, leaning into his touch and kissing over the pulse point on his wrist. "We're something special."
A part of her thought it might even be true.
The Mark on Severus's forearm burned.
Even after all these years, it was still incredibly painful to endure. He glared down at the blot of ink he'd accidentally dropped onto the fourth-year student's examination paper when his whole body had tensed at the summoning. He had spent the majority of his weekend marking all the exams and he'd been hoping to finish before darkness fell, but that didn't look at all likely now. The Dark Lord didn't often demand Severus's attendance: when he did, it wasn't usually for a minor matter. It was probable that he would be gone from the castle for many hours, perhaps even into the next morning.
Picking up his wand, he nonverbally erased the inkblot then put the parchment to one side. The first, third and sixth year exams were already completed, and the fifth and seventh years' were marked externally so that the OWL and NEWTs could be awarded. He would just have to finish marking the few remaining fourth-year tests tomorrow and all of the second-year ones. Another silent wave of his wand had his supplies tidying themselves away, and he frowned as he recalled that he was due to escort Granger to the gates for her last trip to Azkaban tomorrow evening. Perhaps Minerva would agree to take her instead so that Severus would have more time to complete his work. As tomorrow was the start of the final week of term, the teachers had to submit the test scores by Wednesday afternoon at the latest so he wasn't quite at the limit, but he'd prefer not to have the work hanging over him if possible.
But there was another deadline looming on the near horizon that was much more concerning and he wondered if it was linked to his summons.
The Dark Lord had given Draco until the end of the school year to kill Dumbledore. He had only five days left. Magical Britain was imminently going to be without its greatest hope in the fight against the Dark Lord because even if Draco failed, Severus was bound to do the deed himself. He and the headmaster had had almost a year to prepare for that moment, but it still didn't feel like there had been enough time. Albus may have been guiding Potter these last months in an attempt to ready him for what was to come, telling the boy secrets which were apparently not to be shared with him, but there were things Severus now knew that Potter certainly didn't and once Albus was gone it was up to Severus to see they came about. Part of the responsibility of defeating the Dark Lord would lie with him. The cruellest part. The part that made a mockery of everything Severus had done over the last fifteen years to make amends for the mistakes of his past…to protect the only part of Lily that remained.
The boy had to die.
A fragment of the Dark Lord's soul resided within Potter, and unless it was destroyed by the Dark Lord himself, he could never truly be killed.
Severus hadn't believed he had a heart anymore but he was wrong. The pain and anguish of that cruel truth had shown himself that. Lily. He had failed her again even when he'd thought for years that he was doing the right thing for her son.
Was it better or worse that Dumbledore had believed he would be unbothered by the death of Lily's child?
After all this time?
Always…
Potter should be leaving with the headmaster shortly. Albus had notified him that the two of them would be journeying to a location Severus was not to know about, likely to do something dangerous.
Was that why his Mark had burned? Had the Dark Lord somehow been alerted to Potter and the headmaster's movements?
Typically, he didn't know the meaning behind his summons but nor did that cause him any great anxiety. But tonight the timing of this command had definitely unnerved him a little - not that it would be evident from the outside or within his mental barriers.
Severus walked the familiar path through the grounds, his surroundings ruby red due to the setting sun. Thanks to his meetings with the Dark Lord and his accompaniment of Granger a couple of times a month, he believed he'd probably made this journey more often this year than the rest of his teaching years combined. At least (unlike Potter and Draco) Granger's situation was set to improve in the next couple of days. Dolohov was to be transferred into Order custody on Wednesday and Severus remained optimistic that doing so would keep the man out of the war for good. The Order had hoped to already have Dolohov imprisoned by now, but apparently The Ministry's representatives had been unhappy with a couple of aspects of the arrangements. Severus suspected that Scrimgeour was just flexing his power rather than being pedantic, and he thought the posturing was unnecessary given all the hoops he'd made Albus and Potter jump through recently. Perhaps the Minister would regret not building a better rapport with Dumbledore and gleaning some valuable advice given what was set to happen in the next few days.
Severus didn't know the location of the Order safehouse where Dolohov was to be kept. Nor did he know who amongst the Order did know, apart from Moody. It was a precaution Severus was comfortable with because it meant that he wouldn't have to lie to the Dark Lord when Dolohov's disappearance was discovered. With Dumbledore dead, no doubt the Dark Lord would quickly attempt to sweep to power, and breaking his faithful followers from Azkaban would be high on his priorities. By moving Dolohov now, it seemed they were averting disaster just in time. A secured Dolohov meant that Granger could still visit him safely, and Potter was uncompromised by his loyalty and dependence on her.
And yet, despite what many others might think, the headmaster's imminent death should actually decrease the level of peril she faced - unless Dumbledore had left instructions with another Order member to make sure she couldn't be used as a danger to Potter. Moody, perhaps. The ex-auror would presumably see a lot of Granger as she visited Dolohov, and the man knew better than most how dark wizards' minds worked… The possibility troubled Severus slightly after everything he had done to keep her safe this year but he had to face the fact that it was very likely that he would no longer be able to watch out for her anymore. If, as planned, he was the one to kill Dumbledore, he couldn't go back to the Order. He must fully commit himself to the Dark Lord's cause and figure out the best way to defeat him from within his ranks. By pushing for Dolohov's transfer, Severus had given Granger (and therefore Potter) the best chance he could and soon it would solely be down to her to protect her back from unexpected dangers. He had some faith that she would manage it - certainly more than he would've at the start of the year. The girl had always been far more knowledgeable than her peers, but she had matured over the last months thanks to an exposure to some of the harsher of life's lessons. Unfortunately, such was the way with war.
After passing through the gates and magically locking them shut again, Severus focused on the pull from his Mark, letting it guide him to the correct apparition point from the Dark Lord's summons. On the completion of the familiar squeeze, he saw Corban Yaxley standing before him in a richly furnished study. Late evening summer sun glinted off the gilt frames of mountainous landscapes and pompous-looking but silent portraits. The Death Eater's face gave nothing away as he inclined his head in greeting.
"Snape."
"Yaxley." He had never seen the man unmasked at Death Eater meetings before - the high-ranking Ministry official was cautious and clever in protecting his position. Severus couldn't help but feel that having Yaxley confidently barefaced before him was an ominous sign.
"The Dark Lord is eager to speak with you," Yaxley said, indicating with a hand gesture that Severus should accompany him through the ornate double door.
"Why?" He wouldn't normally bother with the question but something felt different tonight and he'd prefer to have some warning of what he might face.
Yaxley seemed to think about the question as they moved along a much more dimly-lit hallway. "It would be best if he told you himself."
They passed through another set of doors, the interior of that room even darker than the corridor leading to it, and Severus bowed his head before even getting a chance to properly survey his surroundings.
"Come, Severus, I have quite remarkable news for you." The Dark Lord sounded pleased, sending a rumble of disquiet through Severus's stomach that he ensured was undetectable to any observers.
He raised his head, taking a moment to note that only himself and Yaxley were present in the stuffy drawing room besides the man standing before the crackling fireplace, then inclined his head respectfully. "My Lord?" he inquired.
A door opened at the opposite side of the room and he was disappointed to see Bellatrix stride in.
"Ah, Bella, good timing," the Dark Lord said as she knelt before him and lifted the hem of his cloak to her lips. "I was just about to tell Severus."
"Wonderful," she purred as she got to her feet and fixed her large, dark eyes on Severus. She reclined in an armchair, looking as comfortable as a cat, and his unease grew.
"Potter's mudblood best friend is dependent on one of my Death Eaters to live."
Shock raced through Severus at the Dark Lord's words. He didn't panic, and instead let his genuine surprise and confusion dominate his expression. "My Lord?"
"Hermione Granger. Dolohov unsuccessfully cursed her during the Ministry battle last year but the incomplete magic resides within her, threatening to burn the girl up unless he regularly soothes it with his touch," the Dark Lord explained unemotionally.
They knew. They knew exactly how Granger was afflicted, how vulnerable she was. "How can this be?" he asked truthfully. How did they find out?
"You are supposed to be the old fool's most trusted spy," Bellatrix said pointedly. Her eyes hadn't looked away from him once. "Perhaps you can tell us?"
"Come, Bella," the Dark Lord chided. "You see the astonishment on his face. I told you the girl's mind showed no evidence of Severus's involvement."
Severus's head actually shook slightly in disbelief as his mind tried to comprehend what he was hearing. It wasn't possible. "H-her mind, my Lord?"
"We were able to lay hands on the girl last month," the Dark Lord said and Severus didn't bother to hide his amazement. "She was here, right where you stand, and I was able to look into her mind and discover her secret. I had no immediate use for her and she needed Dolohov's touch, so I modified her memory and sent her back on her way to Azkaban."
He had witnessed a number of shocking incidents and revelations in his role as a spy. Discovering that Granger had secretly been abducted and brought before the Dark Lord, that her vulnerability had been exposed for over a month without any of them knowing was almost as startling as Crouch Jr taking the place of Moody for the whole school year. But the harm was already done when Barty had been uncovered - this felt like the beginning of great peril for all those who walked the path of the light, and for Severus almost as much as Granger herself. Was his life now forfeit? But then he recalled what the Dark Lord had said and he realised what that brilliant, brave girl had done: she had managed to fool the Dark Lord. Severus had been so caught up in his astonishment at her capture that he had overlooked that the Dark Lord believed him ignorant of her ties to Dolohov. One of the most skilled Legilimens that had ever lived had entered her mind and she had been able to hide all the time they had spent together this year that proved he had known from the start. At that moment, Severus was quite sure that his lessons teaching Granger Occlumency were the most important of his entire career. She had saved his life and given him the chance to continue his duplicity in order to try and bring down the Dark Lord.
Severus fell to his knees and prostrated himself on the ground at the Dark Lord's feet. "My Lord, I have failed you," he grovelled. "I believed that the old man trusted me implicitly but I- I was wrong. If you had not discovered this astonishing truth about the mudblood through other means, to be without such a hold over Potter and the Order, you must punish me, my Lord."
"As you wish."
Severus had been fortunate not to suffer the Dark Lord's wrath often. The excruciating pain of the Cruciatus curse ignited along his body, seizing his muscles and forcing a long, agonised yell from his lungs. Twice more he was subjected to the terrible curse before he was left panting and trembling on the floor.
"Rise."
It wasn't easy but nor was it supposed to be when the Dark Lord was displeased with you. He caught sight of the almost gleeful look on Bellatrix's face. Yes, she certainly would've enjoyed seeing him humbled and tortured, to see him lowered in the Dark Lord's esteem. Yaxley was a silent presence in the back of the room but Severus didn't dare turn to look at him.
"You now have the chance to make up for your mistake, Severus," the Dark Lord said calmly.
Severus bowed his head, tensing the muscles of his body so they wouldn't shake. "My Lord, I am your humble servant."
"You will bring the mudblood here, alive, within the hour."
Severus froze but his heart beat wildly in his chest, his thoughts rapid. This was a test. If there were any doubts about his knowledge of Granger, this was the Dark Lord's way of finding out the truth. If he didn't hand Granger over, he would be as good as dead. He certainly couldn't continue being a spy amongst the Death Eaters' ranks, just as the war would need his skills the most. Was there no way to avoid this? "You would have me reveal my hand to the Order?" he asked, head still lowered. "I will not be able to return amongst them as a spy if I do as you ask, my Lord."
"I'm sure you will be able to cover your tracks, Severus, unless you've lost your touch," the Dark Lord replied. Regrettably, that was probably true. He was fairly confident he could lead Granger here without anyone knowing what he'd done - especially with Dumbledore and Potter away from the castle. One hour. He couldn't even warn the headmaster in that time.
If he went through with this, it was a poor way to reward Granger after her courage in tricking the Dark Lord. Severus was condemning her to an almost certainly horrific fate as a prized prisoner of the Dark Lord's forces. He would have to live with the knowledge that he would be responsible for whatever suffering she endured. If he managed to get a message to Azkaban to prepare for an imminent attack, he could at least ensure that her ordeal was short lived. She was due to see Dolohov tomorrow. If that could be prevented, she would likely be dead a couple of days later. Severus doubted that she - nor her friends - would see it as much of a consolation.
"Fortunately for you," the Dark Lord continued, "I anticipate that there will soon be a bit of a disturbance at the school which should confuse matters about how exactly the mudblood disappeared."
Severus looked up. With all that had happened since he'd arrived, he'd forgotten about Draco's task. Was the boy truly readying to strike tonight? The headmaster wasn't even in the school. What was he planning to -
"And it has already been a busy evening," the Dark Lord said, interrupting Severus's thoughts. Red eyes gleaming, he waved a wandless hand to open the door that Bellatrix had entered earlier. "See for yourself, Severus."
Distinctly aware that he probably wasn't going to like what he was about to see, Severus walked through the doorway. He still didn't know where exactly he was, but he found himself on an upper floor hallway which overlooked a sizeable, grand vestibule. Below him, a group of ragged figures were pulling off dirtied and soiled robes, washing away the filth that lined their bodies. Despite that, Severus recognised the men at once.
His eyes urgently cast around for one figure in particular - hoping, hoping…
But no. It was too late. There he was.
Antonin Dolohov had already been broken out of Azkaban.
A/N Eeep! The Order were just a few days too late!
