Bound

-Wiltshire, U.K.

Hermione was nervous. No, nervous was definitely an understatement. Simultaneously, she was going to have a panic attack, pass out, and throw up... all over her formal robes – her new, expensive... green... formal robes that Professor Snape had purchased for her.

Professor Snape.

No... no longer her Professor... soon to be her Master. She was starting to get cold feet, waiting here in the frigid night air, alone, in the dark. She stared ahead of herself, at the monolithic stone structure standing out against the setting sun. Stonehenge, a place of ancient magic, ancient people, ancient rites. What better place to have a ceremony such as this, an irrevocable bonding of two souls.

She stood in the damp grass, waiting to be called, while the late summer wind whipped her cloak around her, pulling strands of hair from underneath the hood and swirling them violently around her face. It's not that she was afraid, – well, maybe a little – but what if she let him down? She was his first apprentice, and while she had no doubt as to his abilities to instruct her in the art of Potions, she suddenly doubted her ability to live up to his high standards. Standards that had been nigh unachievable as a student. She couldn't fathom what he would ask of her as an apprentice.

"Oh God, what am I doing!?" she whispered, hugging her arms around herself, panic lacing her voice as she looked left, then right, desperately seeking an escape route. Just as she had made up her mind to turn and run, she heard Minerva's voice call from the darkness. "We are ready for you now, Miss Granger."

A halo of light appeared between two of the great stones, and Hermione could just make out the older witch's silhouette standing out against the flickering light behind her.

Shit.

Setting her jaw, Hermione took a deep, calming breath. 'It's just a ceremony... a few words, a few rites, and it's done with.' She carefully lifted the hem of her dark green robes as she started towards Minerva. The older witch, dressed in robes of a deep, royal purple with black beaded trim, smiled and stood aside as Hermione crossed the threshold and walked into the ancient circle.

She passed between several smaller stones on her way to the small clearing in the middle. A ring of torches, each at least seven feet tall, had been erected around the open space. In the dim light, she could barely discern three figures, two tall, one short. As she came closer, she saw the spectacled form of Albus Dumbledore standing at what appeared to be the head of the clearing. He was dressed in formal robes of the darkest blue, and she could just make out a tiny shimmer of beading along the hems.

As she came closer, she looked to her left, where she found her friend, her witness, Harry Potter. The flames from the torches reflected off his glasses, giving them a strange, eerie glow. He was clad in dark red dress robes, so dark that she had almost thought them black. No. Harry wouldn't show up here wearing black. Leave that color to the man standing to her right. She smiled a silent 'thank you' to Harry, who nodded, before she turned her attention to the man whose gaze she had felt on her since she had entered into the circle of torches.

Severus Snape.

Her head turned... and her jaw dropped.

His robes were white.

Pure white... like new snow or swan feathers.

She knew she was gaping, but she couldn't help it. Where normally there existed only a swirl of formless black robes, there stood before her now a dark angel, a vision that could only exist in dreams. Even beneath the hood of his white cloak, she could see that his hair had grown longer over the summer; it now hung just past his shoulders, black as midnight. The contrast of ebony hair against white fabric was startling. The cloak was pushed back over his shoulders, so she could see his that his high-collared jacket fit snugly around his chest and trim waist, while the back continued down past his knees. The faintest hint of silver thread could be seen along the lapels and cuffs, both of which were accented with small, ivory buttons. His trousers seemed to be made of a soft, light material, which glowed amber in the torchlight and fit snugly against his long legs. Silk, perhaps? Along the seam of each trouser leg, there was a barely discernable vertical stripe, made of a slightly darker material. Each stripe ran from waist to knee before disappearing into a pair of black dragon-hide boots.

Black boots... the only visible trace of the Potions master she had known for seven years.

This man before her was not the man she had seen everyday for nearly half her life. This was not the sour, mean, greasy teacher that had made her life, and many others, Hell for almost a decade. This man was not greasy, nor scowling, nor ugly in the least.

This man was... breathtaking.

She was so astonished, that for the first time in her life she was rendered speechless. Who would have ever thought that he had hidden all of... that... under those dreadful robes for all those years? The long legs, the wide shoulders, the trim waist... A moment passed, and then another, before anyone spoke. His soft baritone snapped her out of her reveries. "Miss Granger... if you are done ogling my person, perhaps we can proceed with the rest of tonight's requirements?"

She started and snatched her gaze away from where she had been watching the muscles of his left leg move underneath the fabric of his trousers – 'Fascinating...' – to lock eyes with him.

"Y-yes, sir... sorry," she blushed.

He simply nodded at her, one corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk. "Shall we?" he asked, closing the distance between them and extending his elbow. Hermione hesitated for a moment, before placing her hand in the crook of his arm and letting him lead her to the very center of the circle. Once there, he dropped his arm, but did not move away. They both stood facing Albus, who looked between them before gesturing to the two people still standing on the outskirts of the circle.

Harry moved up to stand on Hermione's left, while Minerva moved to stand on Severus' right. Hermione spared another glance for her lifelong friend, now an Auror-in-training; he had been upset with her when she had first told him who she had approached for an apprenticeship. He had never like Professor Snape, nor would he ever, but after a thorough discussion on the reasons behind her choice, Hermione had finally convinced Harry that she knew what she was doing. Reluctantly, he had agreed to stand as her witness during the Bonding Ceremony – if Professor Snape accepted her, that is.

It had only been a few days later, while sitting at breakfast on the day of the Leaving Feast, that Hermione had received an owl bearing his seal. Her hands were shaking as she had removed the parchment from the barn owl's leg and unrolled the letter, totally forgetting to give the owl a treat. After snatching a piece of bacon directly from her plate, it had left in a huff. Her friends had watched as her eyes furiously scanned the letter. It was short and to the point:

~Miss Granger,

SS

Her robes. She looked away from Harry and back to Albus as she ran a hand over the soft green fabric at her stomach. The color was a deep hunter green. The robes had a low, curved neckline, lower than anything she had ever worn, and Celtic symbols were stitched along the edge in silver thread, matching those running along the hem and around the cuff of the elongated bell sleeves. Her waist was accented by a belt of a darker green, almost black, that was tied with a silver cord that fell to her ankles. Her cloak was black, the clasp at her neck silver.

A glance to her right revealed Snape standing very still, hands at his sides. All she could see of his face from beneath the hood of his cloak was the very tip of his nose. She smiled despite herself. Further to the right, she saw Minerva look over at her. The older witch must have seen Hermione look at Severus and smile, because one side of Minerva's mouth lifted in it's own small smile, accompanied by the adjoining eyebrow.

Before Hermione could contemplate the Deputy Headmistress's expression, she heard Dumbledore begin to speak:

"Is everyone accounted for?"

Four voices rang out. "We are here."

"Excellent. We may begin." The Headmaster gestured at Severus and Hermione. They turned to face each other, Hermione a trembling mess, Severus the epitome of calm. He reached up, or down rather... she was much shorter than he... and gently removed the black hood, settling it back over her shoulders. As she watched his face, fascinated, she felt him pull her hair gently from beneath the cloak and arrange it neatly about her shoulders. Putting his hands back at his sides, he gave her a small nod.

Hermione took in a deep breath through her nose and blew it out slowly through her lips. She had to stretch a little as she reached for Severus' hood. Her fingers brushed through his hair – 'So soft...' – as she slipped her hands underneath the edges of the hood and carefully pushed it back. Mimicking him, she took his hair in both her hands and pulled it free, laying it gently about his shoulders.

Their faces were very close together, seeing as how she had to reach so far, and she felt his warm breath on her cheek as she finished with his hair. It tickled, and goosebumps rose along her skin. Pulling back, she smiled tentatively at him. He smelled of sandalwood, leather, and something remotely... male. The corners of his lips lifted in a small smile as he nodded to her again and they both turned back to face Albus.

After a moment the old wizard spoke: "Are we ready?"

Again, four voices spoke as one: "We are ready."

Albus raised his right hand towards Harry. "Witness, have you come here of your own free will, to stand beside your friend as she begins this journey?"

"I have," Harry answered.

"So be it. Bring forth your strand."

The Headmaster held his open his palm as Harry stepped forward. Hermione watched as her friend placed a thin, red cord in the man's hand. "I bring with me the color red: the color of fire, the color of passion, love, strength,and protection. May it be so." With a nod of thanks from Dumbledore, and a pointed glance in Snape's direction, Harry stepped back to his place beside Hermione. She turned to him and gave him a smile of genuine gratitude as Dumbledore called out again.

His left hand was lifted towards Minerva this time. "Witness, have you come here of your own free will, to stand beside your friend as he begins this journey?"

"I have," Minerva answered with a nod.

"So be it. Bring forth your strand."

Minerva walked forward, and Hermione saw a bright flash of color as her former teacher placed her own cord in the Headmaster's hand. "I bring with me the color yellow: the color of the sun, the color of joy, happiness, and hope. May it be so." Another nod from the older wizard, and Minerva returned to her place beside Severus. Hermione saw him turn to his colleague and nod. When he turned back she was certain there was a shine in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she must have imagined it.

For a third time, Dumbledore's voiced carried out across the night. "Apprentice," Hermione's eyes widened and her breathing quickened, "do you come here of your own free will, to stand beside this man as your Master until you yourself have claimed that same honor?"

Her voice trembled. "I have."

"So be it. Bring forth your strand."

Hermione reached inside her cloak and pulled her cord out of an inner pocket. She had chosen her color carefully. It reminded her of the man standing next to her, but it was also what she wanted for herself one day.

She placed the grey cord in Dumbledore's hand. "I bring with me the color grey: the color of security, reliability, intelligence, dignity, and maturity. May it be so." Dumbledore smiled at her as he added the cord to the others. She went back to her place next to Severus, and saw him glance at her ever so subtly. What would his color be, she wondered?

For a fourth and final time, the old wizard's voice rang out: "Potions master, have you come here of your own free will, to stand beside this woman, to guide her and instruct her until she too may claim the title of Master?"

"I have," Severus answered softly.

"So be it. Bring forth your strand."

Hermione saw Severus reach into his cloak as he slowly approached the Headmaster. He pulled his cord from within and placed it in the man's outstretched hand. "I bring with me the color white: the color of purity, innocence, peace, and humility. May it be so." Albus' eyes narrowed a little as he gazed at Severus, but his mouth turned up into a smile as he gave a final nod. Severus turned and reclaimed his place beside Hermione.

She couldn't help but wonder at his choice of colors. Each color was supposed to represent that which the bringer wanted for the relationship between Master and Apprentice, as well as for the two individuals that were to be Bonded. Peace? Humility? Obviously, there were many things about Severus Snape that she would have to learn.

Her attention was brought back to the clearing by Dumbledore's voice. He was adding his own cord to the pile. "Severus, Hermione, I have come here of my own free will, to bind you to each other, as Master and Apprentice, until such time that you, Hermione, have achieved the title of Master. I bring with me the color blue: the color of tranquility, stability, harmony, unity, truth... and trust. May it be so." He added his own cord to those resting in his right hand. With a wave of his left, there was a flash of light and a gust of wind, and instead of five short strands, one long, dark cord lay draped over Dumbledore's hand. His eyes grew wide with surprise, and he stared at the object in his hand for a moment before slowly speaking:

"Black: the color of power." He looked first at Hermione and then at Severus, his gaze calculating. "May it be so," he said as he finally gathered the cord in his hand. "Step forward."

Severus and Hermione stepped towards the old wizard who stood with the ebony cord held in his left hand, his wand now in the right. The wind chose that particular moment to rush through the stones, extinguishing most of the torches. Hermione and Harry looked around in a panic, afraid the ceremony had been disturbed, but the three others continued as if nothing had happened.

Dumbledore's voice again: "Severus, if you would." Hermione saw a brief flash of silver and then saw the Potions master flinch. Before she could comprehend what had just happened, he was holding his right hand out towards her, along with the hilt of a silver knife, the shine of the blade clouded by fresh blood. She stared at it for a moment, before realizing that he wanted her to take it. She reached out a shaking hand and grasped the hilt. It was warm where he had held it in his own hand. His blood covered the tip of the blade, as well as the thumb and forefinger he held it out to her with. All she could do was stare, transfixed.

"Miss Granger..." she heard Snape say, as if from a long way away.

She didn't respond.

A second time, louder, more forceful: "Miss Granger!"

She jumped. Composing herself, she looked to him, apologizing with her expression. "Your turn, Miss Granger." He indicated the knife she now held in her right hand. Her lips pressed together in a thin line as she lightly pressed the blade to the palm of her left. His warm blood ran from the razor edge, down over her skin, staining it red. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and turned her head away, while at the same time closing her fingers around the blade. One swift pull of her right hand and a line of fire split across her left.

Tears were in her eyes as she handed to blade back to Snape, who watched her with an unreadable expression before handing the blade to Dumbledore. He took it carefully and wiped the blood off the blade and onto the black cord. "The blood of those who are to be Bound, freely given, will seal this cord of power and all that is contained therein." He finished wiping, and with a small flick of his wrist, the blade vanished.

"Now, for the final rite." Dumbledore once again gestured at Hermione and Severus. "Join hands, please." Hermione extended her bloody left hand to Severus, keeping her eyes locked with his, as she had been instructed. She felt the cool skin of his palm, also slick with warm blood, slide against hers. She thought she could detect a slight tremor in the always stoic man, but his face revealed nothing. It was expressionless, as always.

She was lost in the blackness of his eyes, empty pools of midnight, as Dumbledore began the final rite. He held up his wand and with a wave, he set the cord to winding its way around Severus' wrist, willing the power of the Master to transfer to the Apprentice, to help guide and assist. "Do you, Severus Snape, vow to become Master to Hermione Granger, to teach and guide her as your Apprentice, to watch over her and protect her while she is in your care, to provide for her as her Master, and to forsake all others while so Bonded?"

"I do," Severus answered, his gaze never leaving Hermione's.

A flash of light, and the cord wound its way around their hands, in a pattern of infinity, before winding onto Hermione's wrist, willing her power to transfer to that of the Master, so that he may know her strengths, her weaknesses.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, vow to become Apprentice to Severus Snape, to obey him in all things as they relate to your station, to learn from him, to be humble in that learning, to forsake all others and strive to honor him as you achieve your goals through him?"

Her eyes were stoic, determined. "I do."

Another flash of light, and the cord bound itself around her wrist, connecting her to Severus. She was the one trembling now. Dumbledore looked between them, an omniscient expression on his face. "As your Bonder and friend, I now join you as Master," he nodded to Severus, "and Apprentice," he nodded at Hermione. "May it be so. Now, if you would please close the final seal."

So, now they came to the rite of the flesh. This was the part that Hermione had been dreading. The Bonding needed a 'joining of the flesh,' as well as the blood. The fact that their palms were pressed together was irrelevant – only one rite could be taken from each part of the body. Since the rite of the blood had been taken from their hands, they were now useless for this part of the ritual. It was simple really, nothing complicated. They simply had to touch flesh to flesh and the ritual was complete. As Severus leaned slowly towards her, Hermione could hear Harry's huff of annoyance from behind her. When Severus' lips brushed hers in a quick, chaste kiss, she knew Harry had turned away, disgusted.

Hermione was not disgusted – she was, once again, fascinated. Even though they did not move, his lips were soft and warm, not cold and stiff, as they pressed against hers. Her eyes closed and her free hand moved to touch his cheek, but he pulled away so only her fingertips trailed along his jaw. His expression was startled for a moment, before he gave her another slow nod and directed his gaze towards their entwined hands.

With a flash of golden light the cord disappeared, leaving streaks across Hermione's vision. The flesh of her hand now bore what looked like a tiny interwoven scar in the exact place the cord had been wound. She glanced to Severus and could see that his was the same. He let go of her hand, and she saw him look at his palm – it was healed, as was hers. A single, thin scar was all that remained.

After a moment, they heard Dumbledore speak again. "So it is on this day, in this place, that you are Bound to each other, Master and Apprentice. May all your endeavors succeed."

With those final words, Hermione looked around her, at the Headmaster, at Harry, Minerva, and finally at Severus, who bowed formally. She returned the bow in kind, and as they straightened, the wind suddenly howled out of the night sky, extinguishing all but one of the remaining torches, and bringing with it the first raindrops of a late summer thunderstorm.

"I believe that is our cue," Dumbledore said, just before Apparating away. Minerva was right behind him, gone in a swirl of robes. Hermione turned to Harry and smiled. With a quick glance over Hermione's shoulder at Snape, he too Apparated home. That left Hermione alone with her new Master, a man she had barely spoken to since that day in his office.

She turned back to face him, the light from the single torch making his features soft. "So," he said, moving towards her, "was it what you expected?"

She rubbed her arms, not knowing why being alone with him would suddenly make her so nervous. "Well," she began, her eyebrows coming together as she thought for a moment, "even though I had read about it, the blood rite did catch me a little off guard." She looked at the scar on her left hand, tracing it with her index finger. "Stung," she said.

"Yes," she heard him reply. When she looked up, he was much closer, and before she could say anything, he had taken her scarred hand in his. Hermione watched as he ran his own finger over the line of new, pink skin. "It is a... powerful gesture, the spilling of one's blood for another." She stood transfixed as his feather light caress made her whole arm tingle. When she looked up again, he was staring at her intently, with a look she had never seen before. "No one has ever... willingly... spilt their blood for me, Hermione."

Her skin peppered with goosebumps as her given name crossed his lips. Slightly taken aback, she said the only thing she could think of: "I-It was a requirement, sir. The ceremony would not have been complete without it." She watched the unnamed emotion melt from his face, watched his features mold themselves back to their normal state.

He abruptly released her hand and took a step back. "Of course, Miss Granger."

The rain started to fall harder. "Shall we, my Apprentice?" he said, gesturing North, towards Hogwarts. She nodded.

"After you then, Miss Granger."

She nodded, and after giving him a tight-lipped smile, spun in place and was gone with a barely audible pop, the skin of her arm still tingling madly from the lightest of his touches.