Three: If I Am To Be Condemned For My Sins, Let Me Commit Them First

Anti-Litigation Charm: None of the characters belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling, who let my entire reason for reading the Harry Potter series bleed to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I'm building a better world.

Strange as it is, stranger it seems; who told this life it could fall apart at the dreams?

Severus and Hermione looked at one another, over the space of a few heartbeats. Oh, please, please, don't make me go to him again, Severus silently begged, but the deaf, blind gods stayed silent and indifferent. He closed his eyes to master his fear, hating that Granger, of all people, was witness to it. He felt like a helpless child again, looking up into the eyes of his drunken father, cowering, anticipating the swaying stance, the sound of the belt sliding from his trousers. He had pleaded silently for protection then as well, knowing none would come... Lay me low...

He gasped, and drew himself to full height. Remember your purpose, he told himself. He could almost hear Albus saying it. Whatever punishment the Dark Lord metes, you deserve it. You dirty, little scrote of a man...

"Miss Granger, please leave now. I have to –" He hissed as the Mark burned again. The Dark Lord was impatient now. Severus panted, angry that the girl was still there, staring at him. Through clenched teeth, he urged, "Merlin's sake, girl! Go!"

She was shaking her head. "It's him, isn't it? He's summoning you, isn't he?" Severus could only nod, grasping his aching arm to ease the pain. "What will he do to you?"

He rasped, "I cannot say, but it will not do to keep him waiting." He calmed, and made his voice gentler. "Miss Granger, if you wish to help, please go and tell the Headmaster I was summoned. I'll return when I can."

She stepped closer. "But he'll want to know about us! You've told him about me, and he'll expect some sort of update!" She dropped her head, casting about for any idea. "Can you – can you make up something? Can you show him – I don't know – me thanking you or, or something, anything?"

Hermione looked into his eyes with absolute trust, and as the pain subsided, his Slytherin heart whispered, Make her. Make her pretend. Make her give you some little scrap of her comfort in this godsforsaken mess you call your life. Make her touch you –

And the darkness that was never far from him, that he fought every day, settled into his belly like a heat, a latent, sensual power. It was a power of knowing that she was ripe and sweet for plucking. A few honeyed words, a soft, innocently placed touch, and soon she wouldn't need to pretend...

As if she'd read his thoughts, she looked up at him, her eyes bright and fearful. She grabbed his wrists in her hands, and when he looked down at her small hands, encircling his wrists, she rung them to get his attention. "Look at me, Professor!"

As he stood still, Hermione stepped back, looking down at his feet. She smiled, as if recalling a pleasant memory. She lifted her gaze to him, and the glow in her eyes almost made him stagger. It was a knowing, warm glow, and it made her look older, more worldly, more knowing. For a fleeting, thankfully transient moment, the visage of seventeen-year-old Bellatrix Black came to mind. Mercifully, it was gone just as quickly.

Hermione moved closer, and Severus almost took an involuntary step back. She still held onto his wrists, pinning him in place. She laughed softly, modestly, and he wasn't sure if the sound frightened him or aroused him. His mind was telling him one thing, but his traitorous body, quite another...

"Professor," she said, her voice sweet, her expression fond, "I wanted to thank you again." She lowered her head modestly. "I am afraid to be in the house alone with him. He – " She shook her head. "He thinks I owe him. He said that I should feel grateful for his attention. He thinks he should be the one I give my – "

She stopped again, and blushed. Blushed, for Merlin's sake! She looked at him with admiration shining in her eyes. "I know I've never been one of your favourite students, but at least you don't force me to do something against my will."

"Nor will I," he said, his voice soft and light, easing into his role like the practiced actor he was. "You are quite safe here with me, Miss Granger." Of its own accord, his hand reached to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes, and nestled against it. Severus' eyes grew wide, as he felt his cock roar into life. Oh, Merlin, what is the girl doing? What might she do, if I allow it?

In spite of his rapidly spiraling thoughts, he smiled at her outright audacity. He raised a delicate, expressive eyebrow. "You're a good girl," he crooned. His soft words were rewarded with her brilliant smile, her eyes lighting at the praise. There - oh yes, there it was. The heat of Hermione Granger: praise. Her treasured, truest lust. Just as he had done before his summoning, his lips relaxed and parted into a smile worthy of a lover.

His eyes slid slowly over her, starting at her mouth, and traveling, first down her body, then returning to her face. He felt powerful, basking in her open and enthralled admiration. She was watching him intently, her body still. Her mouth was also parted, and Severus could see her rapid breathing, her pulse flashing at her throat.

"Yes, such a good girl, Hermione," he repeated, slightly breathless, caressing her name with a voice that was soft and silky, that promised so much. It was a voice he'd used a hundred times to get what he wanted. It had enticed quite a few females, willing and unwilling, into loosening their thighs and sharing his bed or his coin. It was a voice he'd used to assure victims when there were no assurances to be given. It was used to placate and seduce when the revels called for the innocent to suffer, and he could offer nothing more than a soft command to close their eyes, and dream. He used his one true beauty, and it soothed even him.

He could see the flush on her skin, and knew his beauty had produced it. He returned her predatory, knowing smile. As his hand slid from her cheek, she turned her head slightly, and his fingers brushed against her lips. They were soft and heart-shaped, and they pursed slightly against his fingertips. He dragged his middle finger across her bottom lip, his movement so subtle, it could almost be construed as accidental. He could feel the soft puff of her breath against his finger. For a sweet, dirty moment, Severus imagined what she would do if he slid his longest finger between her lips and into her warm mouth. He could almost feel her tongue cradle it, swirl around it as she suckled it. He could imagine her, eyes closed, lost in the longing, not fully understanding, but welcoming it nonetheless...

He sneered down at the girl, the powerful darkness feeding these stolen, forbidden seconds. He could hear her breathing increase, and he felt an electricity pulse between the two of them, and he knew she felt it as well. They were both breathing heavier, and their chests rose and fell in unison.

It would be so easy, the dark voice told him. She's so willing to do whatever I ask. I could say almost anything at this moment, do almost anything, and she would respond...

Caught up in the fantasy, Hermione looked modestly down at his hands. Her voice was almost a whisper, and her eyes were lidded. She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip, and Severus' raging hard-on tightened his trousers painfully.

She murmured, "I'm so glad you're there. You're the only one who believes me." She brought the full battery of her tawny eyes to meet his, and he felt a shiver run up his spine. Her lips trembled, and she looked up at him beseechingly. "I don't want to go back there with Ron and Harry. He doesn't understand. No one does, even Dumbledore. He doesn't believe me, either. Harry's so blind where Sirius in concerned."

Severus touched her cheek again, and Hermione rubbed against his hand like a kitten. He stroked her soft skin with his thumb, and lightly crooned, "Shh. It's alright, child. You don't have to go if you don't wish it. I'll ensure you never have to." He felt her shiver, and he knew at that moment, she would be his. And underlying it all, under the darkness, under the lust, was that pulsing, tiny light that wanted him to do the right thing, to keep his promise to her. Where no one can find us...

"But the holidays – "

"Can be spent here. I require assistance on a Potions project. I'll arrange it with the Headmaster. It will give you a reason to stay away from Grimmauld, and no one would be the wiser." His voice was as far removed from his teaching voice as possible. It was creamy and rich, and the girl responded so beautifully to it. Watching her, Severus could almost forget they were playing a desperate game of charades. More than that, he could feel the needy urge to forget it was only a game...

She was looking at him with dawning hope in her eyes. "Would you – would you really want this? Would you allow me to assist you, Professor?"

He favoured her with another sneer, and made an appreciative humming noise. This time, he dialed in a touch of soft menace to his sinful, silken baritone beauty. It was seduction itself, more than even his words. "Oh, yes, I want this as well. I very much want you here, Hermione." His pronunciation grew more clipped with each word; each consonant savoured and presented, each vowel tasted in his mouth like ripened fruit.

"Yes. Very, very much." He could see her blush again, and her lips flushed a luscious shade of pink. He found himself aching to discover if her little nipples were the same, dusky hue as her pouting lips; oh, those sweet, little pink nipples, begging to be nibbled, like the heart-shaped lips, that were parting...

"Thank you, Professor. You always make me feel safe."

And it was over. Safe. The word instantly dashed ice-cold water over his libido, and deflated it like a nail driven into the tyre on a Muggle automobile. Severus felt a sickening urge to send her screaming from the room. How dare she tease and flirt with him? How dare she make him want her, then plunge a dagger in his desire with one tiny word? Who the fuck started this?

The Mark sizzled under his skin again, and he grunted in pain. The last of his dispirited lust was tamped down to nothing, as he tried to deal with the pain.

Hermione saw his sudden discomfort, and looked up at him expectantly. "Do you think it was enough?" She smiled weakly. "I was afraid I was laying it on a bit thick. Perhaps you can, oh, I don't know, tweak it in your mind or something?"

Severus was stunned. He knew the whole little sordid exchange was as substantial as a glamour, but he had sensed her responding. He frowned, and she made a little gesture, a modest shrug. "I used to do Stage School during summer hols." She sobered. "I never thought I would be using it to save someone's life, but I'm really glad, Professor."

He stared at her, openly surprised. He took a deep breath to soothe his ruffled ego, which had deflated somewhat, along with his cock. Smirking in his usual manner, he replied, rather formally, "I must say, it is the theatre's loss that your calling lies elsewhere, Miss Granger."

It was her turn to look confused. Was he paying her a compliment, or had he been caught up in what had just happened, as well? And why did he sound so disappointed in her? Gods, the world may as well stop turning, for all she knew of what had just happened.

For several more heartbeats, they regarded one another. Then Hermione said, "Sir, perhaps you'd better go. I don't want to be the cause of his displeasure."

Severus nodded, then turned to go. His mind was racing, and he needed to master himself quickly. The girl had, truth be known, rattled him more than he was willing to accept.

As he turned, he said, "Tell the Headmaster I was summoned – "

"I know. I will." For several seconds, Hermione watched him prepare to leave. As he reached the door, she impulsively called out, "Professor!"

He turned, impatient, fearful, "What, Miss Granger? I have to leave now!"

She rushed to his side, and, reaching up on tiptoe, placed her hands on his shoulders. After the slightest of hesitations, she gently kissed his cheek.

He stared down at her, his expression unreadable. "Miss Granger? And which play are we enacting now?" He sneered. "The Passion of Christ?"

This time, he was sure her blush was genuine, as was the hurt in her eyes. "No! I mean, I'm not! Just – be careful. I can't bear the thought you might be hurt again. Especially not because of me."

He gave her another stiff little nod, and whipped around. Almost before she could register it, he was gone, striding out of the room.

Hermione sat down shakily, her bravado gone. She had told Professor Snape it was all an act, yet, she was trembling. She touched her face; she could still feel the warmth of his palm against her cheek, the whisper of his fingertips brushing over her lips. She could feel every small callous on the pads of his long fingers, could smell the crushed rosemary as they lingered over her mouth. She could still hear his voice saying her name, gently, almost affectionately. She could see the heat in his dark, obsidian gaze. It was the singularly most erotic thing that had ever happened to her in her short life. Her body had all but hummed when he stroked her cheek, and she'd felt cold and hot at once. She was almost sure her knickers were wet.

And when she'd kissed him, and asked him to be careful, she had prayed for one brief moment that he would return her embrace. In those few short minutes with her professor, she dimly understood why Sirius Black had not so much as stirred any latent emotion, other than revulsion. She understood desire now. It had a name and shape and form, and Hermione was deathly afraid her body had decided that form was her Potions professor.

He started this, she thought, somewhat petulantly. Him, with his talk of hating Sirius Black, of convincing that madman Voldemort that she was infatuated with him, that she could be seduced into betraying Harry. And Professor Snape had made her knickers wet, and made her tremble merely by cupping her cheek and calling her his good girl. And what play are we enacting this time? Why did he sound so offended by it? These are his rules, aren't they?

Hermione touched her lips again, trying to remember the feel of his fingertips, the sound of his voice. Oh, gods, Hermione thought, closing her eyes. What if this isn't just a game?

Suddenly, she felt very ashamed of herself, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why. She waited a few minutes, until her mind emptied of the inexplicable feeling of guilt, and rose to find the Headmaster.

He was waiting down the hall from Professor Snape's office. She walked quickly towards him, but Professor Dumbledore seemed in no hurry to move away. She waited until she was close enough to be able to whisper to him.

"Sir, Professor Snape wanted me to give you a message. He's been – "

"I know, Miss Granger. I encountered him as he was leaving. He asked me to come down and make sure you were alright." Dumbledore gave her a fond, fatherly smile. "He seemed to think you might be a bit... agitated."

"Well, sir..." She glanced quickly around, but they were quite alone in the corridor. It was a narrow hall, free even from portraits. "Aren't you worried for him? After all, the last time he was summoned..." Hermione stuttered to a halt, unwilling to mention that night, that one, strange night, which had made so many changes in the status quo.

"Miss Granger, Professor Snape is a very capable wizard. He is the one man I trust with my life. I have every confidence that he will return to Hogwarts soon, and without grievous harm. You must trust in his ability to take care of himself."

Hermione stared at the Headmaster. She was still smarting from his remarks about her and Sirius. Now, to blithely dismiss Professor Snape's potential peril seemed callous in the extreme. A sense of grave injustice flared within her, but she quickly remembered that she was now a player in this dangerous game. Immediately, Hermione tried to rearrange her expression into a calmer one.

"Yes, sir. Thank you. Well, I'm going to be late for dinner."

"Indeed. Enjoy your meal, Miss Granger."

"Greasy git. Why does he constantly have to pick on you or Harry?" Ron asked. At least, that's what Hermione hoped Ron had said. With the contents of an entire plate of food in his mouth, it was hard to tell, exactly. "Where is the old Dungeon Bat, anyway?"

"Don't say things like that about Professor Snape," she said, her tone automatic, absent-minded. Hermione stole a glance at the Head Table. Professor Snape's place was empty. Hermione was tempted to tell the boys that their professor was out possibly risking his life for the Order. It probably would have effectively shut them up, but the words stuck in her throat. She desperately wanted to talk to Harry about Sirius as well, but every time she opened her mouth, the opening gambit sounded either too forced or too accusatory. Harry sensed she wanted to speak to him, and had given her several opportunities, but like her, didn't seem to be able to break the seal.

She wondered if she should go and wait for Professor Snape by his office. As a prefect, she had any number of plausible reasons to be there, but she was still loath to take her chances down in the dungeons, near the Slytherin house quarters.

As the last of the food disappeared, Ron and Harry rose. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"What?" she said, looking up at her dark-haired friend. Harry smiled down and gave her a playful little shake.

"Hello? Earth to Hermione? We were going to have a planning session for the next – " He quickly glanced around. "You know, special meeting?"

Ah, the D.A. strategy meeting. She'd completely forgotten about it. She smiled and stood. "Of course. I'm going to change. I'll see you later, yeah?"

As the boys left, Hermione risked a final glance up at the Head Table. Only the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall were left, chatting away like old friends. Disappointed, Hermione finished the last of her pumpkin juice, and was about to leave, when a drawling voice behind her said, "Looking for Lover Boy? I told Father I can't understand what he possibly sees in you, but, then again, Snape's no oil painting, either, is he?"

Hermione whirled to see the smirking, pointed face of Draco Malfoy, sneering down at her. Of course! Lucius Malfoy would have been at the Death Eater meeting, when Professor Snape was hurt. Draco could have been there as well, for all she knew. Choosing to ignore Draco, Hermione silently rose and started to walk away. From behind, Draco softly called out, "Hey, Granger, what do you get when you cross a Mudblood with a Potions master?"

Hermione turned and gave him a cool look. "Oh, I don't know, Draco. A Malfoy?"

His pale face flushed with anger. "Shut your grubby mouth, Granger! You're going to have to learn some manners around your betters, girl. There are some who believe that a wizard who can't keep his witch under control deserves a little beating himself. I wouldn't be so smug if I were you!"

Hermione stood still for a moment, then walked back to the Slytherin table. She hissed, "Shut up, Malfoy." She looked him up and down, carefully. "Here's a riddle for you, Draco. Do you know how easy it is to castrate a ferret? No?" She gave him a look of pure disdain that would have made even Professor Snape proud. Glancing down at his crotch, she sneered, "Keep annoying me and you'll find out firsthand!"

She walked out of the Great Hall, but not before Draco called back. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Mudblood. When he gets tired of you, he's already promised the rest of us can play with you."

Hermione's blood was boiling, but she smiled mirthlessly, as she walked toward the Gryffindor common room. She may not be in possession of Slytherin guile, but she was strong enough to learn how to control her emotions around Draco Malfoy. If Professor Snape had a hidden agenda, she would be clever enough to find it. As she made the long walk to Gryffindor Tower, her initial exhilaration faded, just as Draco had planned. His parting shot had put just enough doubt in her mind, as to exactly the conditions Severus Snape had bartered, when he made his pact with his Dark Lord.

"You're rather late, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, as Severus knelt down, and kissed the hem of his robe. "Dallying with your new toy, no doubt."

"Forgive me, My Lord," Severus said, lifting his dark, liquid eyes to Voldemort. "I confess she has provided more distraction than I am used to indulging."

Severus forced his body to remain relaxed, as he allowed the Dark Lord to invade his mind. It was always a sickening sensation; there was a corpulent feel to the Dark Lord's invasion of Severus' mind, a subtle sliding against his consciousness. It felt oily and rancid, as if something rotten stroked the corridors of his soul.

And there she was... You always make me feel safe, Professor... you don't have to go back there, child... stay with me... I will protect you from Black... I don't want to be with Harry.... Hermione, looking up at him with that soft, trusting glow... The dormant, innocent arousal, the more knowing pull of desire, when he called her his good girl... He pushed all his want, his need to possess the girl, his erection, the feel of the physical pulse in his groin as she touched her soft lips to his fingertips.

Finally, the Dark Lord sat back on his throne. "You've done well, Severus. Already, the girl is pulling away from the Potter boy."

"Really, My Lord?" came the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy. Severus turned and faced the blond aristocrat. With an expression of mild puzzlement, Lucius flicked his gaze to Severus. "My Draco tells me that the Granger girl and Potter are as close as ever. Apparently, they're working together with several other students in some sort of clandestine Defense club, where the girl is one of the leaders."

He gave Severus a smug smile. "It hardly sounds like a young girl forsaking her best friend, Severus."

Severus gave Malfoy a withering, patronizing stare. "It does, if you do not wish to draw any undue attention to yourself, Lucius. I've told the girl that she must carry on as always. She understands that she must not show any outward signs of rebellion, or our association ends." He tutted slightly at Malfoy. "I think you've grown soft, Lucius. You used to be much more... Slytherin." Malfoy's face darkened, his pale, grey eyes growing glacial.

"Children, please," Voldemort interrupted, and both Severus and Lucius lowered their heads. "You know it pains me to see my loyal lieutenants squabbling. Of course, the girl must act as if nothing is amiss. Severus will teach her the ways of his house, Lucius, and when her loyalties are revealed at my triumphant moment, the Potter boy's anguish will make my victory sweeter," he hissed, smiling his unholy glee into the room.

"Rome was not built in a day, my dear Lucius, and neither is vengeance. Let my Potions master brew his young lover in her time, and she will be all the more flavourful and potent for his patience. I seem to recall, Severus," Voldemort smiled, stroking the dark man's hair fondly, "That you ever enjoyed the taste of willing flesh more than that which is taken by force."

Severus willed his body not to shudder in revulsion at the Dark Lord's fondling, possessive touch. "Indeed, My Lord." He allowed his eyes to slide toward Malfoy again. "I find the idea of rape to be a huge waste of energy that can be better spent in more... pleasurable pursuits." Some of the Death Eaters laughed, knowing it was a barb against those who had took him by force, whose selfish cruelty was only too well known.

Severus had never enjoyed the tang of rape, which was why he privately thought the Dark Lord frequently used it as a punishment for him. Severus would always take celibacy over forced molestation, and this pleased the Dark Lord. He was only too happy to appease his loyal Death Eaters' darker appetites now, to keep them sated, dependently under his thumb. However, when the war was over, he would need acolytes like Severus, whose minds were not slaves to their basest desires.

Severus was saying, "She is an intelligent young witch, who craves knowledge over everything. Once she has tasted the forbidden fruit, she will only crave more. Already she asks questions. It will be only a matter of time until she is ready for her answers."

Voldemort decided the Mudblood girl was a pleasant diversion for the Potions master. Already forced to live the life of a monk in the soft nest of Hogwarts, Severus eschewed all but the occasional dark revel, and only then when under the most imperious command of his Master. He occasionally frequented the Knockturn Alley whores, who gratefully accepted his coin, but turned their faces away, as if being forced to copulate with a golden idol or animal.

If the young girl could give Snape her loyalty, and willingly warm his bed, she could give Voldemort another string to his bow against Harry Potter; against Severus, even. If properly motivated, she would provide wise counsel to the Potions master. She would certainly keep him on his toes, until she was no longer of use.

The Dark Lord stroked Severus' face in a fond caress. "Rise, my friend. Now, when is the next Order meeting?"

"Next week, My Lord. I plan on antagonizing the blood traitor, Black, into a confrontation. If I can convince Potter that Black is molesting his friend, it will be one more distraction to demoralize the boy."

Voldemort nodded, pleased. "Well played, my friend. The game is afoot, then. Isolate the boy, until he stands alone, and he will fall. I am pleased with your report, Severus. Return to your school, to your little plaything." His smile was a hideous thing. "Kiss her goodnight for me."

Severus stood, and kissed the hand that had stroked his hair. He stood and faced the Dark Lord, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth. "You are too kind to me, My Lord. And to her, as well." He looked up at the Dark Lord with fevered adulation. "I will mold her into a fitting jewel for your throne."

"I have every belief you will, my friend."

Severus bowed again, and turned to leave the room.

"And Severus? When you go to the Order meeting, take her with you."

Song lyrics are from 'Waiting To Hear' by Christopher Branch, one of my Songwriter friends, from his album 'If All These Things Are True'. Used with permission