Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

Thanks to my reviewers and my beta (LadySunflower).

Chapter 18

Voldemort was alone in the graveyard of Little Hangleton, waiting for Severus to arrive. His eyes and ears at Hogwarts had been keeping him informed as to the progression of Severus's seduction. Now six weeks had passed, and he was growing impatient. Surely, Severus had the girl eating from the palm of his hand by now...

A disturbance in the air alerted him to Severus's arrival; his closest spy to Dumbledore could Apparate virtually soundlessly. The black robed, silver masked man came close, knelt down and fluidly crawled forward to plant a kiss on the hem of Voldemort's silk robe.

Voldemort's snake-like nostrils flared. He breathed deeply, inhaling the musky scent clinging to his servant. 'I have not smelt this since...' His red eyes widened as he recognised the distinctive scent. He raised his hairless brows, looking down at the still kneeling Severus.

"Well done, Severus. You bedded the girl." Severus didn't answer, recognising the statement for what it was. "Recently, too. Her scent clings to you, along with a hint of blood. She was a virgin, then. You collected the blood? Good. I am sure you will find a worthwhile use for it." He gestured for Severus to rise and began to wander around the graveyard with him in tow.

"What the children of my Death Eaters do not know to look for are signs of the Granger girl's Necromantic powers. Tell me what you know." It was a sign of the Dark Lord's favour that he did not use Legilimency to see the relevant memories for himself.

"Her control over her powers is growing. She found a book instructing her on how to use her powers. I slipped into her mind to examine it myself, but the backlash threw me out of her mind with such force that it rendered me unconscious. It is obviously dangerous to any who do not possess the powers of Necromancy. The memory of it might have destroyed a lesser wizard."

"Has she brought anything back from the dead?" A greedy gleam came into those unnatural red eyes.

"Not using Necromancy, no. She did use Muggle methods to save the life of one of my Slytherins."

"Perhaps she just needs to get used to the idea. It is taboo, after all. Tell me of what you have seen of her powers."

"When she loses control over her negative emotions, unnatural frosts form. One of those covered the floors of the entire castle, as I discovered when I compared notes with the other teachers. She can reduce anything that is or was alive to ash, given enough time and energy. I saw her vaporise the door to the Headmaster's office with a single touch; the empty space left also resists any attempts at replacement."

Voldemort smiled thinly at Severus's words. "She will be a worthy ally. Severus, my friend, I require you to give our little Necromancer some extracurricular lessons in your position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Sans the defence against."

"Yes, Master. But, if I may... why does she need this knowledge? Her grasp of her Necromancy is far beyond the normal Dark Arts."

"Be that as it may, the girl may be more comfortable with using her natural powers if she has the simpler Dark Arts under her belt. You may go... but before you do... is the girl warming your bed as we speak?" It was simple curiosity that made him ask, prying his flat nose into his servant's personal life.

"As far as I know. I left her in the afterglow." There was slight note of disapproval in Severus's smooth voice.

"I do apologise. Does Granger know of your position as a Death Eater?"

"Yes, but she is under the impression that I am Dumbledore's spy."

"Keep her that way for the moment. She is said to be intelligent; she will figure it out. But you must ensure that she will follow your lead and join us. I would hate to have to punish you..."

Severus nodded, bowed and vanished from Voldemort's side with a rush of displaced air.

Hermione had fallen asleep by the time Severus had alerted Albus to Voldemort's troubling orders. He stood over the sleeping girl, worried eyes tracing over her relaxed features. The Dark Arts were insidious, inevitably corrupting the purest soul. His own soul, if it could be seen, would look filthy, dark rents crisscrossing it, staining what white was left with grey. Hermione's soul had been damaged by the deaths of her parents and familiar and had been steadily tarnished by the pure dark powers of Necromancy. The ordinary Dark Arts would spread hairline cracks throughout her spirit, allowing the faster spread of the advanced Necromantic taint.

'Am I to be the architect of her destruction? Why me? I wish Albus had dirtied his hands with dark magic a little. 'There is no one in the Order with sufficient knowledge of the Dark Arts, Severus. You must do this yourself. Even if Remus could do this in your stead, Voldemort would find out somehow.' Well, thanks for nothing, Albus. Stupid werewolf only learned Defence. Useless cur!' Severus's thoughts trailed off into a stream of invective aimed at Albus, Lupin and the snake-faced Dark Lord himself.

He began to undress, throwing the Death Eater robes into their drawer, his mask tucked away into a pocket. The rest of his clothes would be fine to put back on later on; there had been no bloody revel.

As he pulled the covers back, he exposed the smooth expanse of Hermione's front. She frowned in her sleep, a shiver passing through her as the cold air raised goose bumps. He paused, comparing her virtually unmarked skin to his own, scarred hide. By the end of her extra 'lessons', would the fabric of her soul match his shredded skin? Could he forgive himself if it did?

With a heavy sigh, he climbed into bed, pulling Hermione close. "Mine..." he breathed, before drifting off to sleep.

Hermione was roused by a deep rumbling. She struggled to lift her head (for some reason it was heavier than normal) to find that it was actually Severus snoring; her head had been pressed to his chest, his arm keeping it there. After rolling over, she sat up, wincing as some unused muscles complained about their first usage. She pulled the covers around her to ward off the chilly morning air. In doing so, she pulled them off the upper half of the man currently shaking the bed with his snores.

Last night she hadn't had much of a chance to examine his body, but now... she grinned, her eyes roaming over Severus's lean frame. Hermione's wide smile faded as she took in the sight of the scars cutting across his chest. She traced a shaking finger over a particularly nasty looking one, cutting across his breastbone directly over his heart. While faded, it was still deep, obviously having pierced the bone. His scars were testament to his dangerous life. How many times had he risked his life for the greater good? If those doubting boys could see these old wounds, they might not be so quick to pass judgement.

Severus snorted in his sleep, absently kicking the rest of the covers off. Hermione was distracted from his scars by his morning erection jutting out. It seemed to be begging to be touched, and she couldn't resist. The surface was quite possibly the softest skin she'd ever touched, especially at the tip. The texture was unlike anything she'd ever felt (unless she took the feel of him within her, as experienced the previous night). While soft on the surface, his erect phallus was also hard. She observed with some interest that it was growing harder still under her fingers. It was with an almost scientific interest that she ran a finger over the head; it twitched in response. To further satisfy her curiosity, she collected a drop of the liquid gathering at the opening and lifted it up to examine the clear fluid more closely. On impulse she flicked her tongue out to taste it, sampling it before swallowing. Hermione winced at the burning it induced in her throat as it went down.

'Salty, bitter and unpleasant to swallow. I think Severus will need to give me an incentive before I fellate him.'

Hermione continued to occupy herself with stroking his cock, only to be startled when he abruptly spoke, having been awake for some time.

"Before you continue fondling me, perhaps you'd care to tell me precisely how sore you are. Don't start something that we can't finish."

"I am a little sore... and it's breakfast time judging by the platter that's just appeared."

After shrugging into a couple of kimono-style dressing gowns (in Slytherin green) they dug into the House-Elf conjured breakfast, during which Severus told her of Voldemort's most recent command.

"The Dark Arts... and the Headmaster agrees?" Hermione pushed her plate away, no longer hungry.

"He doesn't like it anymore that either of us, but we have no choice. People who practise the Dark Arts can feel their fellows; your Necromancy does not have quite the same taint." Severus laid his hand over hers, stifling the trembling. She obviously understood all too well the implications of this, that it would be harder to retain control over the darkness spreading within.

She pulled her hand free, got to her feet and began to pace back and forth in front of the bed. "What would be my chances with the Dark Arts Addict if I tried to reduce him to cinders?"

"You cannot risk it. He, like Albus Dumbledore, is more than powerful enough to kill you on his own. As such, their bodies would resist any attempts at atomizing."

"So we have no choice but to go along with this." Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Fine. Tonight, or this weekend?"

"Both. We may need every bit of time available, and it is inadvisable to use a Time Turner before and after coming into contact with Dark spells. I tried once, and the experience was..." Severus shuddered, closing his eyes. "Well, I'll never forget the sensation of the worst hangover in existence when I'm a teetotaller."

A loud rap at the window alerted them to the presence of an owl, Hedwig. Hermione opened the window and retrieved the letter dangling from the snowy owl's leg. Hedwig gave her a friendly nip then flapped off, obviously intelligent enough to know that anything belonging to Harry Potter wouldn't be welcome in Severus Snape's domain.

"What does Potter have to say?" Severus demanded, scowling at the letter Hermione was reading.

"He wants to know where I am. He can't see me on the Marauder's Map, and he's worried because I never came back into the common room last night. He also wants to know why Ron's in the hospital wing. I guess that means Ron didn't involve Harry in his plot and hasn't admitted the reason himself," she explained as she used her wand to summon a scrap of parchment, a quill and a pot of ink.

"I... am fine... Ron's had an encounter with... the intended victim of a backfired... prank... namely me... see you in lessons... Hermione." She folded up the letter she'd just read aloud as she wrote it, and opened the window. Hedwig, who had been hovering outside, snatched the letter up in her talons (almost drawing blood on Hermione's hands before she pulled them back).

"Potter may well realise exactly where you've been. You wrote that using my marking ink." Severus smirked, snatching up his crystal ball. "Locus Harry James Potter."

The image revealed was of Harry sitting with Ginny, Dean and Neville at the breakfast table. He looked up, Hedwig fluttering into view moments later. Hermione leaned closer, intrigued by Harry's reaction. He was frowning, his scar creased by the frown lines. The frown deepened, fading into a wince. Ginny was asking him something in a whisper, Dean and Neville talking amongst themselves. Harry passed the letter over to her, moodily scooping up a forkful of his breakfast and idly watching as it slid back off it. It looked like Ginny's eyes might cross, but then she started laughing. Harry glowered at her, jabbing the letter with his wand, causing it to smoulder into ashes.

"Finite Incantatem. The Potter brat does seem to realise, as does Miss Weasley. Perhaps I should supply you with my marking ink for everyday usage..."

Hermione swatted his arm. "Harry's less of a brat now then he used to be. After Dumbledore came clear with him, he's a bit less emotional and more in control."

After they had dressed for the day (with a few uses of Reparo needed to mend her skirt and knickers, together with a few household freshening spells to make it look less like she was wearing yesterday's clothes) they went their separate ways, Hermione to the library to get ahead on her homework and Severus to teach his lessons. That is, after coming close to undressing each other again in a consuming goodbye kiss.

Hermione discovered in the library that Severus had spelled all of her usual black ink to look like (or perhaps replaced it with) his red marking ink. She rolled her eyes, and attempted to spell it back to black. Nothing she tried worked; she was stuck with using red.

'It seems that Severus can be just as much as a prankster as Fred and George. I bet they never got one over him.'

She had decided to avoid telling Harry the truth of Ron's big mistake, as it certainly would damage their friendship, quite possibly beyond repair. While Ron deserved to lose his friends, Harry needed every friend he had. As did she, come to that.

"You look troubled, Severus." Albus looked over the top of his spectacles at the young man (compared to him, and in terms of a wizard's life span) slumped in the seat in front of the fireplace. It was approaching midnight, and Severus had just come in to report on Hermione's first Dark Arts lesson.

"I am, Albus. You should be too. I started off with the theory, using information from the less dangerous tomes." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, closing his eyes. "She already knew everything in them. She knew most of what is in the advanced volumes too."

Albus looked up sharply. "How does she know?"

"Either Black didn't ward his library as ordered to, or the wards didn't keep her from them. Perhaps, even then, her buried Necromantic powers countered them. She said that she was... bored... during her last stay there. A bored bookworm always seeks out books. We should have realised."

"Severus, Sirius wasn't at fault. I placed the wards on the library in Grimmauld Place myself. How much does she know?" Albus removed his glasses, rubbing wearily at his eyes.

"More than enough to progress to practical lessons. I started to supervise her after giving her a piece of my mind. She should've realised exactly what those books were."

"She didn't know they were Dark Arts books?" Albus was incredulous.

"You wouldn't know this, as a staunchly light user, but no Dark Arts manual actually calls itself such."

"I see. How did she do, using those spells?"

"She's a natural," Severus said despondently. "As with any other spell, she only needs to read the theory to be able to put it into practise." He sighed. "I hope she sleeps all right tonight; even Dreamless Sleep won't keep the nightmares away after using spells that are harmful to the soul. She was also disturbed to learn that the dark spread earlier and therefore deeper within her than previously thought."

"We can only hope that her mind can overcome the pressure of her darkening soul. She knows what I will be forced to do if she cannot." Albus blinked as he caught sight of the flash of emotion in Severus's dark eyes. "Severus, what... you... you aren't growing too attached to the girl, are you?"

"No." Severus's outright denial was undercut by the unprotected thought that Albus had already extracted from his mind. 'I was too attached to her even before she became a Necromancer.'

"You love her. Don't try to deny it; I just saw it in your eyes. Have you told her?"

"Of course not. The word 'love' is far too sentimental for me. I have told her that she is mine. That should be enough for her."

"Severus, tell her. 'Mine' just sounds possessive. It doesn't tell her that you care. It could be the difference. If she knows she has your love, then she may well be strong enough to resist the darkness within. Do you really want your reticence to be responsible for her execution at my hands?" Albus said, a piercing gaze levelled at the uncomfortable looking fool sitting huddled in the warmest chair.

"Very well. But only if I must." Severus stood, muttering something about not wanting to show weakness as he left.

"Fawkes, my old friend, why do these young fools view love, our greatest strength, as a weakness?" The phoenix had no answer for him.