FIC: Restricted Passion (Part 1)

[hikorichan]

Title: Restricted Passion (Part 1)
Author: Anonymous for now
Summary: Irma Pince refuses to work alongside the Carrow siblings. Severus has to tailor make an advert to appeal to a certain Muggleborn. When the Dark Lord finds out, he agrees with his choice of Headmaster's decision, but makes sure Severus adds stipulations. What neither expect, however, is to fall in love.
Prompter: ragwort_moth
Prompt: Madame Pince retires, and Hermione applies for the librarian position. Headmaster Snape agrees to hire her...but only on a few conditions. (And I don’t care what those conditions are, as long as they are really smutty!)
Warnings/Content: Implied!Rape; Attempted Rape, May/December relationship, Masturbation, Objectification, Sexual molestation.

Read on AO3 / Read on Livejournal


The Ultimatum
“I mean it!” screeched the stick insect of a librarian. Wagging her finger in the air between her and the equally skinny man. “You tell those beastly siblings to stay away from my library or...”

“Irma,” the man sighed, pinching the bridge of his overly large nose. “They will be teachers, also may I point out that it is Hogwarts Library, not yours.”

“Those books are precious sources of knowledge Severus,” she hissed. “I walked in on those two conducting what could only be described as an orgy ON TOP OF SOME OF THE MOST PRIZED TOMES this world has seen!”

Severus sighed. This was another headache he did not need. The Dark Lord had best be destroyed by Potter or he would for giving him a migraine for twenty years.

“There is no room for discussion, Irma,” Severus said firmly. Pressing his thin lips together so it looked like there was nothing between nose and chin. “The Carrow siblings are to be Muggle Studies and Defence Against The Dark Arts Professors, as such they are to be treated with the same respect you would treat Minerva or Aurora.”

“So far I have only known two students who treat books with respect in my thirty years of being here,” she said. “One of them was you and I will not say the name of the other one.”

The fact that Miss Granger was no longer allowed to be in the Wizarding World was a source of hurt for the bibliophile. Hermione Granger would have been her ideal daughter if she and Filch ever chose to have children. What she loved the most about the girl was her incredible guilt when she had ripped a corner out of a book, she explained it was the only way she knew how she could save the school. Madam Pince was surprisingly forgiving due to the girls contrite honesty. Really, though, she had saved her lover's pet through that knowledge so she could not remain furious for long. The girl was given a detention tidying up after the students and no more was said about it.

“Well,” she drew in her body standing ramrod straight. Resembling something of a novelty poker. “Then, Headmaster, I tender my resignation forthwith!”

With that she spun on her prim little heel and stalked off to find Argus so that she could crumble into tears on his shoulder. He'd have to stay behind. Filch was the only friend Severus had.

Discussing a Replacement

After the door slammed shut Severus let out a string of invectives in several languages before slumping back down in the seat.

“You could have said something old goat!” Snape said to Dumbledore's portrait. “To use the vernacular we are in deep...”

“I heard everything,” Albus said. “I am sure Argus will convince her to stay.”

Severus shuddered at the thought of Pince and Filch – even though their affair was perhaps the best kept secret in Hogwarts – it still did not comfort those that knew. A 23 year old Severus got the shock of his life when he went to Argus for a cup of tea and found Filch sucking on Pince's breasts. He could not look either in the eyes for months after that in case he saw the full show in their minds. His ability was a blessing and a curse.

“What if he does not?” Severus sighed. “There would be the problem of a certain megalomaniac, he'd use the opportunity to plant another of the flock in the school,” he grimaced. “I am not sure I could cope with thugs like Scabior and Greyback in the school. Imagine Scabior, he's a menace amongst the girls,” and not in a nice way. Aloysius Scabior was one not to be around hormonal girls. He was one of the first Slytherins under his charge to teach from his first to seventh year. How the whelp became a prefect befuddled Severus' mind to this day.

“I agree with you there Severus,” Dumbledore sighed. Irma had thrown a rather large cube in a rather tight circle of an issue. “Let me sleep on this...”

“No...” too late, the not so dulcet tones of Albus snoring behind him reached his ears. “Bloody goat!” he muttered.

Severus sat back in the chair and rubbed his temples: “Well, that leaves out informing senior psychopath,” he mumbled as he looked up and around his office, lost as to how to fix this before his living Master found out. “I could bribe Lupin to work here. He's at least intelligent enough to be here, knows the school, some of the students trust him with their lives and who knows, perhaps he can keep me somewhat sane.” Gods how desperate was he when he was seeking friendship with, what was now truly, the last living Marauder. Pettigrew no longer counted since he took the Dark Mark. “There is also the added benefit I can sneak him his Wolfsbane and make sure that he and Tonks do not die like...”

“Severus,” a rather haughty voice cut in on the current Headmaster's musings. “Severus, look lively fellow!”

The Headmaster groaned. Great, advised by a Black, how wonderful was his life? He'd certainly swap with Jimmy Stewart any day of the week. Come to think of it, did his character not like a librarian? It had been awhile since he had watched the movie.

“What can I do for you, Headmaster Black?”

“Why do you not consider tailoring an advert in the Daily Prophet to gain a certain someone's attention?”

“Who would willingly want to work here under these circumstances?”

“Gryffindors would, more to the point, a specific Gryffindor who would probably live in a library if you let her...”

“Gods, Black, you are as insane as your great granddaughter,” growled Severus. “She is a Muggleborn. The moment the Carrow siblings gets wind of this...”

“No,” another voice interrupted. It was Dilys. A formidable Ex Hufflepuff. “I see where Phineas is going with this – she is remarkably intelligent, it was her that used the library to save her friend's life on more than one occasion. If anyone can help us win this fight by being librarian it would be her.”

Grudgingly Severus reconciled the salient, concise, calmly fact stated by the former Headmistress. So much so that Severus bounced back and forth in the Headmaster's chair, tapping the highest points of his fingers against his lips as he considered her suggestion. He was about to say he'd give it due consideration when an owl tapped against his window – Severus took it, it was an Inter-Owl. Only used between members of staff. He took the missive and the owl flew back to the owlery.

Phineas and Dilys swapped looks with each other: “Severus?” enquired a now wide awake Dumbledore. Bloody typical, Snape snorted.

“Headmaster

I cannot, in good conscience, work with Death Eaters. Especially ones so debauched and disgusting as the Carrow siblings. I cannot stand to see such jewels of literature to be abused only as they know how.

This is my resignation.

Who knows, perhaps your Lord can place a vampire amongst them!

Irma!”

“Well?” Phineas said.

“I agree to your suggestion. Now,” he sat down on the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. “If you do not mind I have a former student to trap.”

The Advertisement

Harry and Hermione were the early birds in the Burrow. Pig had flown in with the Prophet. Seeing the little owl reminded Harry of his own personal loss in Hedwig. His faithful snowy owl. Harry's heart broke into a million tiny pieces at her death.

“I still can't believe that murdering bastard is Headmaster!” he grumbled.

Hermione chewed her toast thoughtfully. She had long learned to keep her suspicions to herself. There were too many variables in her Arithmantic equations. Not one of them worked out that Severus Snape was a villain. Some of them veered more to the dark grey but he was not wholly dark, just as twilight is not night, but a vast array of differing shades each time. She took the rag from the owl and they shared it between them.

“Good on her!” Harry exclaimed.

“Who?”

“Clearly Madam Pince also decided Snape's a git!”

“Why?”

“There is an advertisement in the Daily Prophet for new school Librarian. Listen to this...” Harry coughed.

“Listen to what?” the wonderful sight of Ginny in a nightshirt that reached halfway down her thighs and mussed up bed hair did something to Harry's groin but he reined it in. “Harry?”

“Ah,” he blushed. Hermione smirked behind her large cup of coffee. “Um...” rolling her eyes, Hermione turned the paper towards her and looked Ginny in the eye.

“Wanted: A hard-working, intelligent, capable, trustworthy Mage for position in School Library. Must understand complicated codices, be of organised mind and habits. Able to help pupils with assignments if need be. Also may need to substitute for teaching if required. Rooms provided. Familiars allowed. Food provided. Must have own Gringotts account. Must be 18 AT LEAST when term starts. Other qualities include: Past Prefect. Of exemplary OWL scores at least. Basic understanding of ALL Primary subjects taught at Hogwarts. Past Alumni.”

Ginny's eyes widened: “Wow, if I don't know any better I'd say he was describing you, Hermione.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione frowned.

“Item One: Hard-working, no-one works as hard as you. Item Two: Intelligent, no one can doubt that. Three: Honestly, point out any one else more capable and I would have to say you are one of those simburg things...”

“Cyborg,” Hermione corrected automatically as if to prove Ginny's point.

“Trustworthy, tick,” Harry continued, seeing where his girlfriend was going with this. “Understanding of complex filing systems. Hell, I think you could turn that Library right on its head and people would wonder why it was not run like that before. Able to help students with assignments... you were helping OWL students when you were a first year,” Harry absently began to draw Ginny in for a hug. She was nothing but smug in her boyfriend’s embrace. “You will be missing the deadline of your birthday two weeks ahead but hey, you were always early... OUCH!” Hermione had kicked Harry's shin under the table. “You got top OWLS, you are a past Prefect, and you have more than a basic understanding in all first and second year subjects and so could definitely substitute for a teacher from time-to-time.”

Hermione chewed her lower lip. Why did her dream job have to show up when it was war time. Ginny sighed as she realised she was supposed to remain romantically distant from her boyfriend until the war was over.

“I'd love it if you were there,” Ginny sighed as she left Harry's warm embrace. “I'm off to get dressed, Quidditch practise, yeah?”

Harry smiled at the Goddess that was Ginevra Weasley: Once she had disappeared Harry turned back to Hermione: “Also, where better to research possible Horcruxes and right under the Bat's nose!”

“How would I get information to you?”

Harry stood up, leant over, and kissed Hermione on the forehead: “You are intelligent and capable remember, I am sure you can come up with something. Oh,” he turned back around when he reached the kitchen door. “I know you want to be with me on the hunt but...” he looked where Ginny had sat moments before. “I care more for Ginny than I ever thought possible for another human being,” he shared a knowing glance with Hermione. “If this opportunity can be used to keep her safe...”

It was that statement with the raw emotions playing through his sensitive eyes that broke Hermione's heart: “I will,” she said. “If this is the only way I can help you, I will do it.”

Harry bowed his head, tears began to slip down his cheek: “Hermione,” his voice was rough. “I know it will be hard. I mean Snape was a class A jerk to you as a pupil. I dread to think what he'd be like as your employer.”

Hermione smiled weakly: “I will manage.”

Harry nodded and walked up the stairs leaving a pensive Hermione sitting at the Weasley kitchen table. She closed the Prophet and went to write her application for the post.

Compromise

It turned out Hermione did have competition for the post but the plan was to hire her, though Headmaster Snape did not make it easy for her.

She did not make it easy for him either. Last time he had seen her she was a pale faced student standing outside his office where he had literally stunned Flitwick. What stood before him now was a professionally dressed Miss Granger. Hair controlled in a French plait sitting comfortably against her spine. Navy skirt robes, with silk white blouse, with pearl translucent buttons. French manicured nails showed she understood the seriousness of the position. Matching navy kitten heel sandals that made her just a couple of inches taller.

Pert C-cup breasts stretched over the silk blouse, tantalisingly round and feminine. Another reminder that this was no longer a child but a young witch. Gods, her eyes, did she always have little green and gold flecks in them? Were they always so beautifully innocent and wide? Really, even if it was not a plan, she would have been hired for being a combination of all things great about womanhood.

However, despite their neutral location, a Muggle café in London, they were being watched. Silver grey eyes twinkled icily at the scene before him. Jealousy erupted through him. The moment he saw her, he knew her potential. Now she was giving smiles and professional answers to the one who stole his son's glory – the backstabbing, ungrateful wretch!

Well, we'll see...

The silent spy left with a crack of Apparition back to his quarters where the Dark Lord was waiting on a throne like chair set on a dais – literally lording over all!

“Well, Lucius, I am too impatient for formality, just tell me who he is currently interviewing.”

Nodding, Lucius allowed his Lord inside his head to view the scene as witnessed by him. The Dark Lord drew back with a hiss of Parseltongue.

“My my,” his eyes glowed a neon red, Lucius deduced he was both angry and delighted at the same time. “The little mudblood has grown quite lovely has she not? Applying to be librarian... One can almost see the beauty of having Potter's pet under our watchful gaze. What is her name, Lucius?”

“Miss Hermione Jean Granger, my Lord.”

“Hermione,” the Dark Lord wrapped her given name around his tongue. “Quite a lovely name. At least her sewer rat parents has a certain class to name their child after both a Greek Princess and a Heroine of Shakespeare.”

“He still went against your orders, my Lord,” Lucius reminded his Lord.

“Ah yes, one can almost understand why, but you are correct.”

He lazily Crucio'd Lucius for no reason other than boredom as he mused over what to do with Severus and his positioning a Mudblood albeit an attractive... No, he was the Dark Lord, he was above such things but she will be there the whole year. Oh yes, Severus will employ the long limbed woman, but under certain conditions.

He allowed a few hours to pass by before he called Severus.

A wary Headmaster answered the call: “My Lord?”

Good, he's scared, and he should be: “Imagine my surprise when I opened the Prophet last week and found you had advertised for a position without consulting me, Severus?” The Lord was aware of the stuttering of his follower's heart. “My disappointment in your faithlessness that I, your wise Lord, was thought to be unable to bring forward a worthy candidate to fulfil the desired position at my ancestor's school.” Desired position, Voldemort smirked. Yes, Miss Granger, bent over the desks in the Restricted section – bum up, legs hip width apart whilst he, the Lord, serviced her from behind. “Well, that I can almost forgive, you are Headmaster after all, and I trust you to be able to make executive decisions,” Severus warily watched the Lord fiddle about with his... er... Jr Basiisk. The bulge in the Dark Lord's robes was obviously caused by a delightful vision, though what the Lord thought when he had public erections was barely worth thinking about for normal mankind. “I am merciful – however – it seems you have somewhat gone against all what we are fighting for.”

“I am nothing if not loyal my Lord!” Severus gasped as he grovelled with humiliation at Voldemort's feet.

“Ah, I wish I could believe you, but when you interview Mudbloods for such exalted roles in our society one has to wonder...”

Severus gulped: “I have no idea what you are referring too.”

“No,” the Lord tilted his head. “I re-read that advertisement earlier and could only think of a few people to whom it may have been suited to based on the duties in your description.”

“My Lord, I have no idea what...”

“SILENCE!” The Dark Lord shouted in his normally high pitched voice. “Now, back to the advertisement,” The Dark Lord sat back and began palming his penis as he imagined Miss Granger's ordered plait to come undone. “Yet out of those few, there was only one I could think of that really suited.” Navy and white, tight, pressing against soft quivering nubile flesh, he was now at full mast. Severus continued looking at the floor as the Lord allowed his excitement to get the better of him. “One who happens to be the best friend of my mortal enemy.”

“My Lord, Albus Dumbledore is...”

“Not him, the other one, the Brat Who Won't Die!”

“She applied; I thought it best to keep up appearances and, at least, interview her.”

The Dark Lord bucked into his hand as the vision of Hermione twisted in unnatural angles writhing beneath him, on a luxuriant wolf fur rug by a fireplace in absinthe green lingerie, rolling her head moaning in pleasure before he transported her to a bed of green and silver satin, burst forth as vividly real as it could be. He would have to have this witch.

The Dark Lord's eyes rolled back in his head as he imagined the cries of Potter's mudblood – he came – some splatted on Severus' robes. The Dark Lord slumped into his seat panting. Once he had recovered Severus dared to look up.

“So, what shall I do, my Lord?”

“Well, the damage is done now,” he said coldly. “You have received your punishment, you are to wear my issue on your robes for the rest of the day, including dinner later.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Oh, and Severus, you must make the mudblood aware that she is open game for any of my followers throughout the school year. You are to tell her that she will be expected also to refer to me as her Lord.”

“A fitting degradation for Potter's filth.”

“Good,” the Lord declared.

Severus knew better than to breathe a sigh of relief as moments later a post-orgasmic Dark Lord sent a wave of Crucio's on Severus. The Dark Lord got up and swept out of the room in a way to make Severus always envious. He laid there panting on the floor aware he cannot put clean robes on; his humiliation had been worth it as he remembered the end of the interview.

“Thank you, Miss Granger, I think it is a waste of time for me to say my answer is in the post. Be prepared to be at Hogwarts on August the 25th – enough time to settle yourself in – get re-acquainted with the Library.”

“Is that all, Headmaster?” she asked.

He was absolutely awed by her respectful tone and gaze despite what he had done. She was standing there tall as she could: spine straight, elegant and smiling graciously. Being just perfectly Hermione Granger.

“Yes, that is all, I have your Gringotts vault. I have a point of contact,” the Joke Shop, Snape shuddered, but at least the twins were logical enough to realise that they had to sell to Death Eater children as well as Order children. Sometimes he regretted they were not Slytherins. “Also, as we are now colleagues, you may call me Severus and I do hope I am allowed the same courtesy of calling you Hermione.”

“Of course,” she gazed down shyly. “It would be odd to be referred to as Miss Granger if you are calling Professor Sprout, Pomona.”

He allowed a small smile at her attempt as a joke. “I shall be looking forward to having you under my employ,” he said. Merlin, she was a pretty blusher and he wondered how far down her blouse it went. “I do hope you have enough to cope for not just your duties but others...”

“You do recall my third year, do you not?” she smirked.

“Ah yes,” he replied. He did not want to let her out of his sight. Who would such a vision? “What do... How...” they both said at the same time.

They laughed awkwardly; “Well farewell, Severus,” she said warmly.

A man could live on her smiles alone. For her, like he could only do for one other, he would suffer any amount of humiliation.

Alas – darkness took over again – he could not bare to break the news to her. For all she may have annoyed him in the past, she was still an innocent. If Pince could not stand the thought of Amycus Carrow near her precious books, to allow him near the lovely and unique Miss Gran... Hermione... was a crime against nature!

Introductions

August the 24th was a scene of tearful farewells between the trio. The Dark Lord had held off the planned attack on the Weasley wedding so as not to cause Miss Granger distress. He wanted her lulled in a false sense of security. That she was safe to leave her friends. He knew that Potter and his loyal dog would not return to the school but she would. Arrayed in professional robes. Ink splattering over her button nose. Hair in wild disarray.

The Dark Lord would have been ashamed to admit that he had masturbated quite a lot to her if he had a conscience. She reminded him of what Bella was like before darkness corrupted her. He had not corrupted someone innocent in ever so long. He needed more innocence gone from this world to justify his own claims.

He had ordered the Carrow's to treat Miss Granger with respect. Not to allow their natures to come to the fore too much. The girl was to be unharmed until it was visibly clear Severus had told her what was to happen.

“Welcome everyone,” Headmaster Snape said to the teachers in the staff room at Five Thirty PM on the 28th. “School will be in session in less than two days time. Might I remind you that I am the Headmaster of this school. I will not tolerate mindless rule breaking that has been synonymous with years past. There will be no curfew breakers, kitchen plunderers, aimless wanderings in the Forbidden Forest, as such – this year will be a different year. We are operating under a challenging new era. All punishments are to be verified through me first. A student so much as sneezes out of turn will be expected to suffer grave consequences. I may remind you that previously you had worked under lacks-a-daisical governing, that any student – I mean Any Student – caught breaking the laws will be sent to Professor Amycus Carrow our new Defence Against The Dark Arts professor for correction.”

Hermione gulped as a rather tall, vicious looking man with a permanent sneer etched on his face, bowed to everyone in the room. He stopped to consider her and licked his lips. His eyes sparkled as he noticed the skirt of her robes had hitched over her knee. She followed his gaze and immediately lowered the hem of her skirt a good two inches with her wand.

“As you are also aware our esteemed Librarian Irma Pince has decided to retire early from her position,” again Hermione felt eyes on her. A cold woman was staring rather interestedly at her. Somehow her coal black gaze made Hermione more uncomfortable than Amycus leer. “This put me in a precarious place,” he then indicated Hermione. Shyly she stood up and glanced nervously at past teachers. Amycus had whispered 'finite incantatum' so her skirt was back to original length. All eyes gazed at her, most of them relieved she was at least within their safety net. They would all band as one to protect her as much as they could. “As you can see, there was only one candidate worthy enough to fill Irma's shoes, I am sure she needs no further introduction, however, as is custom I shall remind you: Madam Hermione Granger, our new librarian.”

Their eyes met over the heads of the teachers and she smiled as she recalled his first speech when she was the tender hearted 11 year old child she once was. Here she stood, nearly 18, with all the poise and elegance of one much older. Still, she smirked at the blatant similarities between the old and the new. The last three words only they would understand. It was their first in-joke and she felt like Madam Granger, adult Witch, when he regarded her seriously through onyx eyes.

“Any questions,” he said.

Minerva held up her hand, she was proud of her prized cub now Pride Queen: “As Hermione is not yet fully qualified will she still be able to do her NEWTS?”

Hermione wished her old head of house had not asked that. It was the one question that caused her the most pain. She would never be a qualified witch. With only mediocre OWLS behind her, Hermione's eyes stung with tears. She was about to sit down and remain as against the wall as she possibly could but HIS voice – his melodic, deep, timbre stopped her from doing so.

“If that is Hermione's wish,” he sighed. She peered up to him through her lashes and blushed. “Madam, do you wish to also study for your NEWTS.”

“If it is acceptable, Severus,” she answered quietly.

A round of surprised gasps echoed through the room as they heard her speak his first name. That had not been allowed for them until he was their colleague for five years. Minerva was somewhat gobsmacked. Pomona could have fainted in her tea. Aurora looked at something interesting on the carpet but it was Professor Vector that held a smug smile on her face. She had calculated a romantic outcome for Severus and she had just heard the numbers click properly in her head.

“There, Minerva, Hermione will be taking her NEWTS by December.”

Hermione paled at the thought but, well, she had the whole library to herself – she could do it – and the staff members were sure to help her out as would some of her friends.

“December?” huffed Minerva, that was definitely not enough time. “The child is...”

“Is a young woman who could have gone through her NEWTS blindfolded in her fourth year,” said Flitwick. “We will support her.”

“Yeah,” Amycus grinned, his gravelly voice did little to appease her. “Jus' come to us and we'll helps you.”

Hermione shuddered at the suggestiveness of his tone.

“Hermione, I wish to see you in my office,” Snape swept out of the staff room being followed by a meek and beautiful young lady.

The trip to the Headmaster's office was done in companionable silence. She risked looking up at him. Faltering a little, surely he was not this tall? Perhaps he was. Hermione had never thought of teachers as men and women, but as an exalted species in their own right, as beyond the boundaries of Man and Woman. Now she was in the presence of Severus Snape, Headmaster and boss, she realised how foolish that notion was. For here was MAN.

Elegant, noble nose, it was not large or ugly at all. It was noble, she decided. Sallow skinned yes, but he would not suit a tan. Thin sensual lips pressed pensively over square chin and jaw. High cheekbones defined his features. The way his robes flapped in his confident wake had always amazed her. Then his hands, piano playing hands, wide span – long thin fingers threading through her hair aroused and stimulated her imagination. She used to be enraptured by how they danced, caressed and seduced the ingredients on the potions table to do his bidding. It was like he and the cauldron were at one with another. Hermione made sure to look at those hands as often as she could – from her fifth year on – she had naughty dreams based on what those hands alone could do to her. Then, she sighed, there were his legs. Powerful, lithe, elegant as they dodged between the tables in the dungeons. She blushed when she remembered being pressed against his legs the night they discovered Lupin’s furry little secret and how he reached over with his arm around her waist pulling her tightly in his protective embrace. A rather heady experience for a fourteen year old girl who was already at the starting lines of a few powerful crushes.

“Your thoughts can betray you, young Padawan,” he smirked.

“You know Star Wars?” her admiration for the man just went up several notches.

“Indeed, as do you, it seems.”

“My fat... fath...” she sniffed trying to forget what she did to her loving parents. “Father and I watched them all the time on video. Do you know...”

“I am half muggle, Hermione, I have been to the cinema – gone to football matches – I have even worn a pair of jeans in my time.”

Hermione groaned, she did not need that image in her head now. Suddenly her attention was caught on his buttocks and oh how tempting it was to see if they were as firm as they looked.

“If you are a good girl, Hermione, I may allow you to touch some parts of my person.”

Again Hermione blushed “Sorry,” she muttered pushing some hair behind her ear.

They reached the Headmaster's office where he offered her tea. She accepted black Earl Grey with a hint of lemon. It was Snape's turn to be exalted with joy over a preference.

“Ah, had I known you understood Earl Grey tea, I would not have been so disparaging over your essays.”

“No, I liked your style of teaching,” she confessed. “It challenged me and I did try, honestly I did, but...”

“Hush,” he said placing a finger to her peach coloured lips. “I know you did – and you at least grasped semantics if you could not – read between the lines. Though I am willing to unleash your creativity – everyone has something they like to make up for themselves. A new law, a new spell, or potion. Now, I did not ask you here to talk about that.”

“No?”

“No,” he said. “I invited you here under orders from a special guest.”

As soon as he said that, Snape opened the window and in flew a dark and forbidding shape. One that soon revealed himself to be Lord Voldemort. Hermione's gasp of shock was quickly released as she soon took her wand out of her hair and pointed it at them.

“It is all right little one,” Lord Voldemort said. “I am not here to duel. I wish to discuss pleasant things. Has Severus said you could do your NEWTS?”

Hermione nodded: “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Sir, so you do respect me?”

“Anyone would be a fool not to,” she said breathlessly.

“A gem,” the Dark Lord began circling her. She felt a hand through her ponytail. “Indeed, Severus I envy you, being able to be around Miss Granger all day long – it may drive him mad – however he has come up with some ideas.”

Severus watched as the Dark Lord petted and played with the girls hair. “No,” she said. “What has he left out?”

“Oh nothing,” the Dark Lord stood closer to her, it was fun messing with the innocents. She smelled sweetly divine: Strawberries, coconut, vanilla, oh gods and was that... he leaned in and licked his lips... it was. A scent one can only find in the magical world, the underlying phenomenal scent of a wild Kneazle. Intoxicating when diluted to this witch's skin. “It was nice to properly meet you, Hermione, I do so hope you will come to the Malfoy Ball at Christmas – there we can get to know one another properly.”

With that Lord Voldemort stepped around gracefully and lifted her hand to his lips: “Sir,” she said though her heart was pumping at 80mpm and her mouth was dry. “It was good to meet again in more civilised surroundings.”

“It was indeed, and the pleasure is all mine,” he raked his eyes over her form. He could now add feel, scent, and taste to his imaginings. She was going to be his Christmas to New Years present. With an elegant bow The Dark Lord said his goodbyes to Severus in a fatherly hug.

“Have your fantasies fulfilled Severus,” he whispered in his servant's ear, “Do remember though that she is to be shared, not spared, I want her in my bed at Christmas Eve, to unwrap – do this for me – then we will overlook your error at ignoring my will over this issue.”

“Yes my Lord,” Severus said monotonously. He wished not to convey how he desired her beyond what he thought. Bloody hell, just three months ago she was a bloody student! “I will make sure to tell her that is your will.”

Once the Dark Lord left Severus sighed and indicated a seat; “What was that about?” she asked tilting her head.

“Hermione – the Dark Lord was unhappy I had gone behind his back to hire you, so...”

“So?” she was frightened, more than she would ever admit to, but she was. She did not think he was angry but one never knew with soul splitting snake men. “He has conditions, yes?”

“Yes, this was not my intention but,” he stepped up close and crouched down taking her sweet little hands in his. “HE has made sure to tell you that as I am your boss – he is – shall we say, Company Director. What he says goes now, in Wizarding Britain.”

“This does not sound good,” she said shrinking into the chair as much as she could. “What does he require for me to be here?”

Severus sighed; “You are to become a Death Eater's play thing.”

Hermione's skin turned ghostly white making her freckles stand out; “I am t-t-too...”

“Become our whore, you may say no, I am sure he does not wish you not to enjoy the experience but you must, mostly, say yes.”

Her dream job, the one she was excited about, had suddenly turned into a nightmare but there was a glimmer of hope: “Just the Death Eaters?”

“No,” he said. “He wants you to be his Christmas date and New Years companion.”

Hermione gulped was about to get up but crashed down in a wave of fog and dark on the Headmaster's floor. Severus bent over her checking her for shock. Casting an enervate he waited patiently for her to wake up. She did so in but a few moments. He helped her to the couch and offered her a glass of water. Zombie-like she took the tumbler of water and gulped it down without knowing what she was doing.

“Hermione?” Severus tapped her knee with his wand. Reflexes working all right then. “Hermione, I do know it is a shock to suddenly find oneself the object of fascination for... well... him,” he watched her lids blink owlishly before slowly turning her head. “I am sure no harm shall come to you – I advise you to keep quiet, listen to him, make sure you agree with him when it is within your conscience to do so, and speak when you are spoken too.”

“That's just him,” she sighed. “There are others that desire me too, Professor,” she looked up at him, eyes shining earnestly beseeching him to see her point. Not that she had too. The point was already lodging residency in his fretful heart. “Are you going to give me personal tips for all of them?”

“No,” Severus sighed; “I will be expected to play with you too. Are you a ...”

Hermione blushed: “No, I lost that when I was 16 at a pre-Term party with an old friend. We dated as often as we could but he is in Canada now studying wolves.”

Severus grimaced: “I see,” his experiences had led him to rather despise dogs of all shapes and sizes. He loved cats and a ginger one had leapt from nowhere to settle on Hermione's lap. Severus gave a start as he recognised the squashed features of the feline. “Hello Crookshanks,” he said scratching the cat behind the ear.

“How do you know his name?” Hermione gasped with admiration at the ex-Potions Master. “He really likes you. Better than Sirius.”

“A feline of excellent taste,” he grinned, “now where were we...”

Dipping Into The Company Ink

It was always said that when you require help go to a busy person. Hermione was like a bee. Though she was not as paranoid about pupils going near the books as Pince was – she was still firm and strict about victuals and spilled non-charmed ink pots. One can only get too lax. It was on the 15th of September that she received a letter via owl at the breakfast table. She was made to sit between Snape and Amycus. Showing the whole school she was Death Eater property.

Amycus always insisted on wrapping a long black arm around her shoulders. Hermione had given up on removing it because it would only land there again. She sat as far away as she could possibly go from him. The silver lined black vellum parchment with the the emerald green seal was all it took for her to know who was writing to her.

Getting up she turned to the Headmaster: “If I may be excused, Headmaster.”

“Of course,” he said eyeing the seal and inwardly growled. Why? Why can't he leave one – just one – pure thing in this world?

Once Hermione was on her own she rushed to the library, already the doors opened to her the way they used to for Pince. Filch was in there sweeping up nipped quill ends, torn parchments and general debris a thousand students could leave in one day. Hermione was shocked to find him courteous and pleasant towards her now she was a staff member, even more so when Mrs Norris sat and purred on her lap. She was sure that Filch knew what it was like... to be her! That was a scary thought, but she was not about to brush aside any sort of friendship. Sometimes she actually found Argus funny and Mrs Norris reminded her remarkably of Crookshanks, who was inexplicably drawn to Severus in the same way he was drawn to another innocent – not leaving him alone for one moment. Severus was wonderful with him.

“That from him?” Filch grunted.

Hermione sighed and nodded. “Could you stay with me, Argus,” her voice trembled.

“I'll tell the little oiks to scarper, shall I?”

“No, just, stay as support – as a – friend?”

Argus puffed out his chest, a little proud that this pretty little delicate creature considered him a friend. Hermione sat down on the nearest chair and rubbed the seal – it popped open to her DNA. The silver writing glittered and sparkled against the dark green of the sheet within. Could he be any more obvious?

“Sweet little Librarian

Are you thinking of me as I am of you? The more that your friends slip my fingers the more my mind turns to you – are you brave enough to face their punishment on yourself? Of course, no, I would not do that to you my sweet little librarian...

My mind is on you all the time, as I hope you are aware, are my eyes and ears. I hope you're behaving dear witch, we would not want your friends to be hurt, I am sure to capture them soon. It is only a matter of time before I SEEK out what I desire.

As for what I desire, I cannot wait upon the Yuletide Break, when you are to be my companion. Are you as anxious as I for those two weeks when we shall be each others? When my arms shall protect and hold you as no other can, as I worship you and delight in hearing you call me that which I wish you too. To hear those words from your supple, full, tender lips would make me happy indeed.

Perhaps it can be my birthday present? I await your heart with the style of devotion only you are worthy of bestowing.

Oh to feel your wild, beautiful hair in my fingers, to press your silken flesh against mine, for our breaths to mingle as I search for your treasure, your little pink pearl that could break you in moments. My dear darling little Librarian. How can I, the most feared Wizard, be rendered so by your lithe limbs and wide Saharan eyes.

Yes, dear one, I need you, but I can hold on. I am patient. For two weeks you and I will be as one!

Your gracious Lord,

Voldemort.”

Tears dripped down the corner of her eyes as she paled and shook with fear, when she looked up Snape was there with a calming draught. Hermione took a long gulp before gasping and twisting her face in something akin to disgust at the taste but it worked. The hint of lavender and honey only making itself known once the potion took effect.

“He c-calls m-me h-his sweet l-little...” suddenly Severus was upon her fainting form. “Argus, tell the students the library is closed. I am going to look after her in my office,” the Caretaker nodded.

Importance marked his countenance as he hobbled off to the Great Hall to make the announcement personally. No one would dare go against his orders – he could make it extremely nasty for them. Especially if they threatened Miss Granger.

When he got there the kids had all just finished their breakfasts and all eyes were turned on him. Ginny did not like how Hermione's steps teetered on the way out, nor did she take kindly to the complexion on her friends face. She hoped she was going to get some answers. Ginny hated the fact that Hermione was forced to sit in-between the slime-balls of Slytherin.

Alecto had made her way up to the wheezing squib and sneered as she demanded what it was he wanted cast. Grudgingly, she performed the sonorous – this man may have been a squib but he was as thick-skinned as tenderised dragon hide.

“HOGWARTS STUDENTS,” he yelled. “ALL HOMEWORK IS TO BE CONDUCTED IN COMMON ROOMS – LIBRARY IS CLOSED TODAY DUE TO MADAM GRANGER'S AILMENT!”

His beady eyes fixed on each and every one of them. “How is she ill?” demanded the Irish Gryffindor.

“She took to a faint in the 'eadmaster's arms,” Filch sneered back. “She is being looked after.”

Ginny scowled, she did not like that the murdering bastard was always around her friend. She decided to get to the bottom of this and strode off to the Headmasters office with the intent to demand to see Hermione. Convinced in her own mind that the Potions Master had brewed up her friend's slow, and painful death. The gargoyle surprisingly sprang open for her and she took the stairs two at a time, her pony tail swinging around her shoulders as she climbed the spiral stairs to the office. The door was open.

“I had a feeling you would arrive, Miss Weasley,” Snape sighed. “She's comatose on my bed.”

Ginny blinked. She rushed to the door he had indicated imagining her friend to be shivering on the floor and raped to within an inch of her life. What she did not expect to see was the scene laid out in front of her.

Her friend, laying there, perfectly content. Dressed in a silver silk pyjama set that she remembered giving her as a birthday present. Her hair loose from it's chaotic bun spilling all over the green pillows. The picture of serenity and calm. Stunned she walked out and looked at Snape who was staring blankly out of the window. His thumbs twitching behind his back as if he wanted to kill someone.

“What's wrong with her, she looks fine to me?” Ginny said.

“Miss Weasley,” Severus sighed, he paced the floor a few times, It looked to the redhead like he was at war with himself as if he was weighing serious pros and cons. “Miss Weasley,” he said again. Ginny frowned. “I... Miss Weasley... I...,” he sighed.

“Tell her then,” a snide voice interrupted what was surely the weirdest moment in her life, and she'd been abused mentally by the Dark Lord. “She can keep a secret, can't ye gel?”

Dumbly, Ginny nodded, “Uh-huh,” was all she managed to say.

“Fine,” the Headmaster strode towards a closet and opened it up. He wheeled out a Pensive. A stone basin that was enchanted to show memories. “Your friend is going to need help, she is going to need it from someone who has been there.”

“O-kay,” Ginny said slowly,

“Sit down,” Snape said, the redhead did as she was told.

After an hour of story-telling via mouth and Pensive memories Ginny was dumbfounded more than ever. After she witnessed the letter Tom had sent to Hermione her heart burned a white-hot fury.

“You know as well as I he cannot be denied. She will need you and I will not have her vilified for being a slut – she is so much more pure than that. Miss Weasley, I have only ever known one other witch in my lifetime like her and I feel that one was a shadow or portent of this one – I like her. I do not want her harmed. Yet I am going to have to. I do not wish it, or desire it, but Madam Granger will have to... with me...”

“I knew there was something dodgy about that advert,” Ginny muttered. “And you were meant to... after all...” she wound her wrists in circles not wishing to say what she had found out.

“Yes,” the Headmaster sighed. “I need Hermione to stay sane, if you can be there for her after Christmas Break, I would...”

“I will sir,” she said standing up from her chair. “As for the rest of it,” she looked again at the pensieve and then at Dumbledore's unsurprisingly empty frame. “I will think about that too, sir.”

Once she left Dumbledore reappeared, his eyes not twinkling, his mouth set in a grim line: “You have ruined our plan, Severus, and for what?”

“Well forgive me, Headmaster, if all I wanted was to have the odd friendly face around here to remind me that the world is not full of cold, calculating men and mad, deranged women. Now I know Hermione will have a guard to protect her I can rest easy in my own doom laden rest.”

It was Murphys Law, Hermione supposed, that the more you wanted something the more time stretched to its limit, the less looking forward to something you were, it seemed to accelerate at an arrows pace.

It seemed the Dark Lord had rescinded his promise that Hermione would have to service all his Death Eaters sexually in favour of just him and Severus. It was mid-November when the full reality had hit upon her that it was only four weeks to go when students would be going home. She had received a letter from Narcissa of invitation to the Manor – encouraging her more into the arms of their Lord. For two whole weeks she was going to be arm candy for their Lord. She had no Lord or Master. She had friends.

“I do not want to, Severus,” she said one evening in his most secret quarters. They had struck up a close friendship the past few months, and he was surprised she had become as articulate as she had. “I just – the thought – please,” she kneeled down on the floor at his feet. Covering his knees with her hands as her doe-eyes begged him silently to use that abnormally large brain of his to think of a way out. “Severus, please?”

Severus, please! How he hated those two words together, it was those two words that sent him into this hell-hole of a life. Lucius pleading with him to come to his Manor at Christmas as he was nervous of one of his father's friends. It was Severus, please, that made him want to do well in the Dark Lord's service. A Severus, please, that urged him out of it again. A Severus, please, the reason he was now the hated man in all of Wizarding Britain. Yet, to see this angel, mahogany locks haloed by the fire behind her, shimmering on her golden skin, the picture of perfect innocence that did it for him.

Suddenly he realised his lips were on her skin, her throat, heavily petting her around the jaw and back to the mouth again. Hands tilting her face upwards as he kissed her mouth. Fluidly, Hermione rose to meet his powerful kiss. Her little fingers twirling in the feather light hairs at the back of his neck. Breathlessly taken with each other.

His hands soon roved down her neck to her sides. She quivered underneath the heat of his fingers exploring her clothed body but she was too drunk on him now to care as she pushed closer to him. Scrabbling at the clasp of his outer robe to take it off. Not knowing what Fae it was that possessed her in the moment she grabbed one hand and placed it firmly on her breast urging him to massage the flesh, they moaned in each other's hungry mouths as she now found herself flipped on her back on the werewolf rug in front of the flame. He sank down on his knees shakily undoing his belt and unzipped his trousers whilst she was hurriedly undressing herself.

Wine and built up sexual tension had lead to this moment and neither would give the other a choice to say no now it was upon them. Once they had taken off their clothes her arms reached out, snaked around his neck as she lifted herself up off the floor to kiss him passionately, she gasped when she felt the length of him against her core. He reached his fingers between their bodies and started to coax her centre into releasing natures lubricants.

“Sh-shouldn't we...” she began to say but he cut her off with a kiss before she became sensible.

The flames painted shadows danced and weaved with the two lovers. She spread her legs wider as his fingers pushed her folds apart to it's beating pulsing heart of desire – he wanted her to be as ready for him as he had been for her since the start of term. She arched her back as his face fell between her breasts and he swiped the sensitive flesh with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Her fingers playing about with his scalp as his other hand worked the other breast. He placed his thigh on her now dripping core.

They were taken over by lusts passion. Teeth, tongue, lips, hands, fingers, legs, feet, everything of every part of theirs were used for arousal. Then, she did something that surprised them both. She clamped her legs around his hips and rolled them around so he was now on his back and she sat on top of him – sweat began to run in rivulets down her neck, between the valley of her breasts and he was captivated by it. Trailing the same path with one of his fingertips.

“You are the most beautiful witch I have ever met,” he rumbled.

The depth of the sentiment and tone resonated within her as she moaned and rolled her head back. She lifted her hips up to see his slightly curved 8 inch penis thickening and pulsing. Looking like some beast with a mind of its own. She was fascinated by it. The swollen head, turgid and angry weeping with pre-cum. If that was not a marker of the truth of his statement she did not know what was. He observed with hooded eyes as she tilted her head to the side appraising it the way a kitten would a spider. Uncertain but mesmerised.

“I can do that... to you...?”

“Do not doubt the veracity of your own eyes,” he answered.

She looked at him then, through the fire's haze, the pupils seemed to burn red but that was not correct. Only one man had red eyes and she was not with that monster, she was with Headmaster Snape. Employ... oh no....

She quickly scrambled off and sat back as if she had been kicked by an invisible punch in the gut.

“Hermione, what...”

“No,” she shook her head. “No no no no no,” her mouth could only utter one word it seemed.

“What's wrong?”

“You're my boss – it's forbidden.”

“What do you mean?” he was thoroughly stumped. One minute he was going to have hot sex in front of the fire after a pleasant evening with even more pleasant company. Now he was flat on his back at full mast with an hysterical witch that seemed terrified. She told him she lost her virginity, did she lie? “Hermione, what have I done wrong?”

“No, not you, us … we … look,” she hurriedly put on what she could before standing up. “I don't know what it is in the Wizarding World but in the Muggle one there is a saying: Do not dip your pen in the company ink.”

He started to chuckle: “Hermione, with how small the Wizarding world is we tend to stamp our messages in the company wax...”

Ah, that was the Wizarding version. “I c-can't it's wrong. You're my boss, before that my teacher and it's...” he stood up as elegantly as a panther and stalked her until she bumped against the wall. “Just... wrong!”

“All right, you are uncomfortable with this, but tell me – Hermione – how do you think this is going to go? I have made no secret of my regard for you. Nor have you for me. What is really the issue here?”

“I just need to process this – I know we are going to do it someday – on your Lord's orders or no, but I need to be sober and careful...”

“Upon my word, we shall make a Slytherin of you yet,” he murmured seductively in her ear, “my dear sweet Hermione, I shall give you all the time in the world.”

“Sadly we do not have that, sir,” she sighed.

This was too complicated. Only this time last year she was broken hearted over Ron and Lavender. Now she was here with Severus Snape, a man she had wanted praise from all her teenage life - at 19 she had it.

She did not need this whilst sitting for her NEWTS as well. He captured her lips in a soft, lingering kiss that could have become more had she not gently pushed him away.

“After Christmas,” she said. “That's when I am yours.”

The moment she left the chambers Severus took an ice cold shower and began to think of Hagrid in a pink tutu.