Realizations

~o0o~

They Apparated on the front veranda of a large, stone country home. Immediately, Snape activated her necklace and bracelet. Walking up to the front door, magical wards sent sharp prickling and stabbing pains on Hermione's skin, and she felt a sense of dread. Snape grasped Hermione's hand as he held up his left arm and pain ceased. She curled her fingers tighter in his and looked up at him, wanting some sign of reassurance, and Snape gave her hand a slight squeeze.

A tall, thin man opened the door, coolly greeted Snape, his eyes quickly scanning over Hermione speculatively, and then returned to Snape as if to dismiss her as unimportant. Once in the foyer, he held up his hand, indicating a hallway to the right and ushering them down a long corridor that simply opened onto a series of rooms.

Hermione's eyes darted around as she tried to take in everything around her, feeling apprehensive and uncertain of what was about to happen. Snape silently disengaged Hermione's hand from his, taking her arm, to force her to continue walking. The man led them just past a large sitting room, in which several people were sitting around in small groups, and walked away. As they entered, several people looked up briefly, then resumed their conversations.

"Severus, how nice of you to join us," a saccharine female voice purred from behind them. "Too bad you didn't come alone." Hermione turned to see a long-limbed, curvy woman, nearly as tall as Snape, saunter up to him, completely ignoring her. Her dark brown hair offset striking turquoise-blue eyes that roamed over Snape hungrily.

Snape smiled with an expression that almost resembled humor, if his eyes hadn't narrowed slightly. "Belinda, as always a pleasure to see you. How is Horrance these days?" He placed Hermione's hand in the crook of his arm, still effectively tethering her to him, but giving the outward appearance of gentlemanly possession.

Belinda's eyes followed his move with a disapproving glare. "He is well. I suppose that this is your Mud – Muggle-born, then? She's – lovely." She looked at Hermione from head to toe disapprovingly, then turned back to Snape with unabashed sexual desire. "Not your usual taste, is she, love?"

"She's entertaining enough and not unpleasant to have. However, it's the desire of the Dark Lord and his decision in the matter that I acquiesce to," he answered with a measured drawl. Hermione resisted the urge to react, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that his remarks hurt. "I'm sorry to hear about your recent – illness. Horrance must have been greatly disappointed that you lost another." Belinda's eyes narrowed and she stiffened.

Belinda was cut off from making retort as a house-elf walked up to them and attempted to attract Snape's attention the same time that Nagini slithered up to them. The elf quickly jumped out of the way as the huge snake rose to look at Snape and Hermione, motioning with her head with a hiss, and then turned to leave. The elf quickly scampered away to avoid being noticed by the huge snake. "Excuse us," he said smoothly. "We've been sent for." He turned and guided Hermione to follow the snake into the next room.

The Dark Lord stood waiting. Snape walked over to him and knelt down in supplication. Hermione stood frozen on the spot momentarily until Snape pulled her to her knees beside him. She felt the twinges of panic as the Dark Lord loomed over her. "Ah, Severus. You have brought your... paramour. Hermione Granger, how nice to see you again," he said with insouciance. "I do hope you don't mind if I call you Hermione?"

Even with the effects of the mild Calming Draught, she could only manage a simple nod. The Dark Lord's robes brushed her knees, and she felt his hand slide down her head and cup her face, gripping her chin to make her look at him.

"Please do not be afraid to speak to me, Hermione. I am most delighted to have you here." His red eyes gazed down at her in amusement. "I assume you have come on your own accord this time, Hermione? Willingly, not by coercion or magic?"

She was afraid, both of the power he exuded and what she knew of his reputation. Desperately, she wished that Snape had Imperiused her. "Yes," she said softly, and the Dark Lord's grip relaxed a fraction, and he lightened his touch, his thumb caressing her cheek.

"Calming Draught, I see. No matter, that's fine," he said with a note of disapproval. "Rise." Snape rose easily. The Dark Lord held his hand for Hermione, and cautiously, she accepted it, allowing him to assist her to her feet. "Seems you have nullified some of her fight, Severus. Or are you afraid of me, my dear?"

Hermione nodded, shivering slightly. "I, um, yes, a little," she managed, opting to tell him the truth.

He laughed softly at her admission. "You have every right to fear me, Hermione. All Muggle-born do. However, for now, you are safe – I assure you." He cupped her face with his hand, almost like a lover, as he gazed down at her. She felt naked and vulnerable under his stare, too frightened to move or pull away. "Do you believe me, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed, her eyes darted to the Dark Lord's face, then lowered to avoid staring at him. "I want to, yes... I think for now you mean that."

The Dark Lord laughed, a high-pitched, mirthless laugh that Hermione assumed was to set her at ease. "Then accept my word, Hermione, you will not be harmed. I wish to get to know you. I have heard so many things about you."

Hermione looked at him. "I'm sure you have, although I doubt they have been favorable."

Snape stiffened next to her, and for a moment she was certain that she'd said the wrong thing.

"Severus has said some remarkable things, as have some of your old classmates and a few of my followers," the Dark Lord said, and Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as she briefly glanced in Snape's direction, hoping that he'd acknowledge the claim. Snape looked at her, his face impassive. "Oh, yes, Hermione," he continued, "I've heard some remarkable, and, yes, favorable things about you, my dear. To truly meet you, again, is quite a pleasure. Although these are under more pleasant circumstances for you, I'm sure? To say that you have piqued my interest is an understatement."

Hermione knew that he was trying to sound reassuringly friendly; nevertheless his reference to their first encounter did nothing to reassure her. He set his Death Eaters on me last time – allowed them to... for their fun. She tried to erase the memory from her mind.

His red eyes swept over Hermione's face. "I heard that you had an unfortunate incident? I trust that you are well?" he asked.

She mumbled a throaty, "Yes, sir. I am much better now, thank you."

He looked pleased. "I am very glad to hear that. I want to assure you that I have spoken to Peter in regards to the incident. He said it was simply an accident."

He's talking about Wormtail's attack! Not the one he allowed! Nagini slithered past Hermione's feet, causing her to inhale in alarm as she watched the huge snake pass and climb into the chair by the fire.

The Dark Lord's hand once again cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "Now, my dear, tell me what I need to know." His thumb caressed her jaw as he tilted her face to look him fully in the eye. She tried to keep her eyes down, away from looking into his red ones, and the Dark Lord chuckled. "Still willful, no matter. Legilimens," he said.

The Dark Lord immediately pulled memories of Harry from her mind: Harry's potion exploding in the potion room at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Ron practicing spells in a bedroom, playing chess in the library while Hermione sat reading, or flying in a game of pick up Quidditch as Hermione sat under an oak reading. Several images from school passed in succession, all of when she'd helped Harry practice both Charms and Transfiguration Spells. When the image of Harry reading a map came into focus, she switched the memory to when they'd been shopping in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

The Dark Lord laughed, a cold maniacal laugh. "Don't bother, girl. I'll see what I want to find." The image of Harry's potion in Snape's classroom turning a mucky grey instead of a warm brown flashed in her mind, and Hermione changed the memory to a Care of Magical Creatures class when he'd impressed Buckbeak. Several memories of the D.A. meetings flashed in succession, but she tried to focus on Harry flying for the Gryffindor Quidditch team instead. He chuckled again and redirected her memory to watch Harry try unsuccessfully to Transfigure a teacup, fail to change his match into a needle, Switching a tortoise into a handbag, a piece of wood into a vase, or a potato into a shoe.

Hermione tried to focus on the last Halloween dinner in the Great Hall, but the Dark Lord directed her thoughts back to the Potions classroom and Harry's potion sputtering when it was supposed to froth. She tried to redirect the image, but Harry's failed attempt at making an antidote came into view. Hermione groaned when the Dark Lord pulled the memories of Harry struggling to learn Repelling, Summoning, Freezing, Banishing and Substantive Charms in class. Hermione quickly changed the memory again, recalling how Harry outflew the Hungarian Horntail. He snorted in derision, slipping out of her mind. When the contact broke, he was smiling.

She looked at the Dark Lord in confusion as she steadied herself, wondering why he'd wanted to see those images instead of the ones where Harry had fought his Death Eaters, how he'd handled the challenges in the Triwizard Tournament, or had stood up to him. He wasn't even interested in Harry's instruction of the D.A.

"Now, my dear, you will answer another question I have. Legilimens." Instantly, the image of the parchment appeared in her mind. Hermione tried to direct her memory to something else in the shop, and for a while the Dark Lord allowed her to recall the day in the shop until the bin under which she had found the parchment came into focus. She could feel the Dark Lord's curiosity mix with her own feelings as she reached down to pick up the parchment. Hermione tried to refocus her thoughts, but the Dark Lord replayed the moment Hermione's fingers touched the vellum sheet. A fleeting, faint glow emanated from the parchment, then vanished so quickly that Hermione had missed seeing that the day she'd found it. Unnerved, Hermione tried to pull her mind away, to push the Dark Lord from her thoughts.

She felt a slight slip and for a second thought that she'd managed to break the contact; however, the Dark Lord merely pulled the image back to the animal vellum, probing her mind to find another memory of the parchment. The image of the parchment in her hands while she examined it came into view. Hermione again tried to avert her memory, choosing the day with nifflers in class, but the image changed quickly back to her examination the parchment in the library in Grimmauld Place. She tried to direct her memory again, and the Dark Lord laughed. The image of the transferred watermark and then the pearly black lettering came into focus, Make a wish, ask a question – I'll show your fate, I'll tell you no lies. He held her memory fast as she wrote, What should I ask for? The pearly black ink disappeared, then reappeared and scrolled into, Tell me your deepest desire. Three times I will comply – if brave you be, to face what you'll see. Once again Hermione tried to redirect her memory, and a sharp pain made her recoil slightly, and she recalled laughing and saying, "All right, then." As if in a Pensieve, she remembered thinking it was simply a trick sheet of parchment and wrote, Who is my heart's desire? I wish to see my soul mate. The ink glowed for a fraction of a second, then blended into the parchment. Her memories blurred and spun and darkened. Suddenly, she was at Snape's feet, and he was looming over her threateningly, his cold eyes glaring at her with surprise, then anger.

Slowly, Hermione felt her mind being released, and the face of the Dark Lord was in front of her at arms' length, still gripping her chin and scrutinizing her thoughtfully. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and slowly, he straightened, moving away from her. She could feel the curiosity radiating off of him, and fear sliced through her again. "Well, that does explain a bit. I assume you have delved into her mind, Severus, and seen her memories of the parchment?"

"Yes, my Lord, I have," Snape replied. Hermione bristled slightly at his admission.

"Do you recognize this artifact or have you tried to procure it?" The Dark Lord beckoned someone into the room, and Hermione stiffened, but refused to turn around to see whom it was.

"Neither, my Lord," Snape answered. "I believe it to be in the possession of Harry Potter or the youngest Weasley boy." The subtle clack of heels echoed off the floor as he spoke.

The Dark Lord turned to face her. "Hermione, where is this parchment now?" he asked, and Hermione wanted to cower from his intense stare. "Answer me, Hermione," he demanded firmly yet softly.

She knew from what Harry had told her about him that she shouldn't refuse to answer him or anger him, but she couldn't tell him what he wanted to know. "I don't know, sir. It could still be at, ah – the, um... the library, or I could have dropped it. When I awoke at Professor Snape's, I didn't have it any longer. I don't think it came with me when I landed in the grove, and I don't remember dropping it either."

"I see," he said, staring at Hermione intently. "No matter." His red eyes watched her face and then turned to the woman standing behind them. "Belinda, take Hermione to the sitting room to wait for Severus. She is here as my guest. See to it that she is not accosted by anyone," the Dark Lord commanded as he stroked Nagini's head with a long finger.

"As you wish, my Lord," Belinda answered, while making a deep curtsey, and then she rose gracefully. "Come, Hermione, let's let get acquainted, shall we?"

Hermione looked imploringly at Snape, fearful to leave his side. Snape made no move or no indication toward her at all. Memories of what she could remember of the encounter in the glade flashed in her mind. The Dark Lord smiled. "You do not need your protector here, Hermione," he said, clearly amused by her unease. "Not while you are in this house." Numbly, her head aching, she nodded and turned to leave the room, both glad to be able to leave the Dark Lord's presence and intimidated to be escorted around a house full of Death Eaters without Snape.

Belinda took Hermione's hand, and she instantly withdrew it. "Come, let the men talk. We'll have a nice cup of tea, shall we?" Hermione left with her reluctantly, trying to assess the house, to find any way of escape, while pretending to check out at each painting, window and room they passed. "Adorable house, is it not?" Belinda asked. "Old style, been in the family for ages. Mum wasn't too keen at first to give it over for the Dark Lord to use, but we've convinced them to come around. Oh, Narcissa, how lovely to see you here," she said as they entered a pink and tan sitting room. Narcissa looked up at Belinda and smiled, the smile fading slightly when her eyes fell on Hermione. "So... you know Severus's intended?"

"We are acquainted," Narcissa replied coolly. "She is, after all, a schoolmate of my son's." A house-elf appeared carrying a large tray with a silver tea service and three delicate china cups. The elf set the tray down and poured the tea, fixing first Narcissa's cup, then Belinda's.

The elf stood waiting for Hermione to say how she liked hers served. "One sugar please," she said. The elf handed her the cup and ran from the room quickly.

"So, how did you land Severus?" Belinda asked, eager for the gossip.

"Pardon me?" Hermione asked, scalding her tongue on the hot tea.

"Severus. You're to be married I'm told. How did you manage to snag him?" she persisted.

"I'm to what?" she asked, thinking that Belinda was misinformed. The Dark Lord had called me his paramour; Snape said I was his consort... He mentioned a hand fasting... but that doesn't mean marriage!

"Yes, you're to be married in a magically bonded hand fasting with Severus, my dear, surely you know?" Belinda asked, confused. "Narcissa was just telling me of the arrangements. Sounds lovely. So, how did you ensnare him? Others have tried, unsuccessfully, you know. The confirmed bachelor."

"It was the Dark Lord's desire, I assure you," Narcissa said coolly. "Why else would Severus lower himself so?"

"Really? That's not what I've heard," Belinda stated, looking at Narcissa, amused, and then turned back to Hermione, her eyes alight with curiosity. "I heard that you made a Pairing-Plight Troth or a Betrothing Charm to identify a suitable match, and the charm identified Severus." Her wide smile was apparently meant to appear warm and friendly, although it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Apparently, the Dark Lord consented – and he accepted the match."

"I did no such thing," Hermione protested. "That's not how it happened at all!"

Belinda sat up straighter in her chair, looking from Hermione to Narcissa. "Horrance said that Severus brought her with him when they were all summoned before the July attacks to introduce her to the Dark Lord. He said that she wore a recruiter's mask and robes and that Severus... that he requested her and confirmed the plight," she said to Narcissa.

"That is how Lucius told me it happened," Narcissa said, her eyes narrowed over the rim of her cup, watching both women with an indifferent expression. "You used a magical object, didn't you, Miss Granger, to arrange a matrimonial contract, and the object declared Severus to be your match – your soul mate – so to speak? At the very least, they were declared magically suited. So, now my dear – you are engaged to be married to Severus Snape."

"No, he – we can't be... He doesn't – we're not in love!" Hermione stared at the women. They are absolutely convinced that Snape will go through with this! "We're not engaged – he hasn't even proposed to me."

Narcissa let out a cold, haughty laugh. "Yes, you are," she stated in cold amusement. "Among pureblood families, arranged unions are common, my dear. Besides, the Dark Lord likes the idea of Potter's closest friend married in a magically bonded union with his trusted and loyal follower." Her eyes shifted to Belinda. "She was given to Severus, Belinda, as a gift." She watched Hermione blanch, then looked back at Belinda. "Draco's told me she's become quite trusting and docile to Severus's desires."

Hermione was incensed at Narcissa's innuendo. "I have not – he has not..."

"You haven't? Why ever not?" Belinda replied, clearly not believing her. "He's quite... masterful in bed, very attentive and considerate, I assure you," she practically purred. "You are quite lucky. He's a talented one, Severus."

"He didn't ask for me – he doesn't want me," Hermione tried to persuade the witch.

"That is apparently irrelevant," Narcissa said haughtily. "Your Charm apparently constitutes a magical promise or bind that created your solemn pledge, specifically to betroth. This arrangement serves the Dark Lord's purpose. He gave you to Severus as a gift. Not that he wants you – obviously, but he has accepted you. All the arrangements have already been made. We are just waiting for Severus to select a date. I believe that is what is being decided right now, this evening."

"But don't I have to – agree," Hermione stammered. "You cannot be bonded in a hand fasting without... consent?"

"Yes, my dear, you can," Narcissa said with a haughty laugh. "Let me explain this to you, Mudblood. As a Muggle-born, I'm not surprised that you don't know this. With certain arrangements, the use of certain spells, the pairing is magically selected, sealed within your magical core, and the betrothal is made – even without consent." She sipped her tea, watching Hermione over the rim of her cup. "Contracts are then drafted, dowries exchanged and arrangements made. Although with you, there was little concern over these matters, so the contract is quite simple. Only death, dishonor or you being barren can break the betrothal, and that is only after a full year of marriage. I'm certain Severus can effectively seal the bond. He's helped a few of us before."

"But you still have to say, 'I do,' during the ceremony – to consent," Hermione argued. "I was at a hand fasting..."

"You already have consented, my dear," Narcissa said as if explaining to a child. "The consent is in the spell itself. And since you were the one to cast the Pairing-Plight Charm, you've already, by your own actions – given consent. So the only one who needs to acquiesce their consent would be Severus – and he's already done that in front of witnesses."

"And I assure you my dear, Severus did ask for you. My brother, Cillian, and my husband, Horrance, were both present when he accepted the arrangement." Hermione stared at Belinda, her cup tittering in her hand. "Oh, don't be silly, girl. Haven't you been living with the man? Surely, you know that he is the most skilled of lovers? I almost envy you."

Narcissa snorted. "Lucius said you were quite amenable and pliant in his hands the night you cast the Soul-Matching and Pairing-Plight Spells to claim your match. He said you were rather acquiescent to his wishes then." Hermione bristled under Narcissa's stare, knowing somehow she meant Lucius's hands not Severus's. "Why else would Severus have taken you into his home and into his bed? Surely, you are submitting to this arrangement, are you not? Just as all of us of purebloods in magically prearranged matches do."

"And you get Severus," Belinda piped in. "Those enchantments can go so incredibly – awry. You are lucky that your soul mate, your blood-match is someone like Severus. You could've been matched far worse."

~o0o~

"Married in a hand fasting – to you! They were saying that we are to be married – not just hand fasted – with a Bonding Spell! How could you?" Hermione was fuming when they arrived back at Snape's house. Actually, she was scared; the entrapment she was in was spiraling around her, and she had been left mostly in the dark as its web engulfed her. As soon as they had Disapparated into the back garden, she'd tried to release his grip on her arm by yanking it away. "How could you let them? When were YOU going to tell me? They simply cannot be serious – I won't consent – I cannot – you cannot... I don't believe this... You cannot possibly agree with her..."

"Control your tongue," Snape snarled in a low dangerous tone. He was furious as evident by the angry tic in his jaw as he clenched his teeth and the scathing retort in his voice. He waved his wand, either to set Silencing Charms on his back garden or to release some ward. Hermione was certain it was the first. "You will control yourself and stop this outburst this instant." He deftly flicked his wand at her necklace, making the shell vibrate.

Hermione's hand automatically went to her throat, and she floundered in shock; her balance wavered slightly, and his grip tightened on her arm. She tried to pull away from him, and tendrils from the fanged ivy reached out for her feet.

"But she said we are going to be married – by a hand fasting – you and me!" She felt like a jaberknoll that just realized it was to be dressed out, cooked and served up as dinner to a familiar. "I thought that you said consort... He called me your paramour! Not your fiancée! You can't possibly even want to – to with me! You..."

"Silence!" he yelled. Hermione stood her ground, ignoring the ivy that was trying to ensnare her. Snape grabbed her arm, and she tried to pull it from his grip. His fingers clamped down so tightly she knew that he would leave bruises.

"Unhand me!" she yelled angrily. "There is no way I will consent, and no possible reason that you could expect me to." She pushed away from him, trying to step back in retreat, her mouth open agape, and the brambles of the fanged ivy began to curl around her ankles. Severus halted her retreat, pulling her back to him and away from the ivy's reach.

"No." His eyes narrowed threateningly, and he stepped closer to her. Hermione tried to back away, but the vise-like grip prevented her from succeeding. "Now I suggest you calm yourself, Miss Granger."

She stared up at him in defiance. "You said that the options were, a hand fasting, a bonding or to be your consort – your choice!" She tried jerking her arm free again, and he merely smirked at her efforts. "And those women told me they are planning a wedding – our wedding – with a bonding! They think – assume that you have chosen to marry me!"

"Yes," Snape said, impatience making his tone sharp. "That is what was said. Things have changed."

"You cannot be serious! You said that it would be your choice! Is that what YOU choose? To be married to me by a hand fasting – magically bonded no less!" she snarled as she stared up at him defiantly.

"And what if it is?" Snape's expression was one of cold amusement, but his eyes flashed dangerously.

"But you don't like me! You can barely stand me, and – and... I – I'm promised to Ron!" She stamped her foot, and his lips curled into nasty smile.

"Not anymore," he purred sinisterly. "You belong to me now."

"I don't belong to anyone! Least of all you!" she screeched. His crooked smile gave her no reassurance at all. "No! You cannot – but you don't want me – you don't! You don't want to be... married!"

"I don't what?" he asked as he pulled Hermione close to his body again. "Desire you? Want to make love to you? Want you sleeping in my bed? Want to bathe you or run my hands on your skin?" Severus purred each question in a slow deliberate drawl as he held her body tightly against his. "What do you think has been going on then, Miss Granger? You asked for this. You were the one who made the magical 'arrangements' Narcissa spoke about. You were given to me – and yes – I accepted you. What part are you not able to comprehend?"

His words fully sank in, and she would've tumbled into the flowerbed if Snape hadn't been standing so close to her and grabbed her. "I'm to be your wife? Your wife?" she asked, stunned. He lifted his wand to push a curl form her cheek, and she recoiled slightly.

"Oh, yes. For one year and a day," he said smoothly.

Hermione tried to pull away from him, her eyes narrowed. "I'm to be your temporary wife? And then what? You release me? Discard me as – used?" she snarled venomously.

"Come, we are going inside," he demanded, turning her to walk ahead of him into the house, nearly making her trip, and forced her to precede him. A shadow moved from the kitchen bay window, and Snape swore. "Damn it," he swore, softly slamming the backdoor.

"Sorry!" she snapped, still trying to pull her wrist free.

"Wormtail, the Rat, was standing at the window – he was watching." Snape swore softly under his breath. "Disobedience, Miss Granger, and witnessed. It will be expected for me to punish you," his eyes narrowed as he stared at her intently, "for your disobedience – your little outburst. It will be expected and my actions reported." He paused, the tick in his jaw returning. "Do you have a favorite curse – or do I choose?"

Snape pulled Hermione along with him through the house. Draco was standing in the doorway to the potions lab as they passed, and Wormtail watched them from the dining room as Snape dragged Hermione down the hallway and up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he released her and reinforced the wards on his room, adding a muffling spell and two that Hermione didn't recognize. He turned to her, crossed his arms and stared at her, his expression hard.

He released her arm, rolling his wand in his fingers as he watched her speculatively. "I suspect you have no familiarity with how the Dark Lord operates? Do you? I follow his wishes – or I am either severely punished," he said moving one finger along the newest scar on his chest. "Or he would simply kill me. As for you... either I accept you – make this hand fasting with you – or you die." His lips twitched, but the next instant he was sneering once more. "It is not I who am opposed to this arrangement – I have consented. But it seems that you are. Do you choose death over being hand fasted to me?"

He truly consented – to this? His dark eyes were riveted to her face, watching her, reading the reactions to his words war across her face. "But this was thrust upon you, too; surely you can find another solution..."

His lip curled into a mirthless smile, and for the first time, his eyes raked over her knowingly.

"But you haven't – have you?" He raised his eyebrows at her stammering. "You've not asked me... At least Ron had the decency to propose..."

His mouth twitched in a sardonic grin. "My dear, in arranged unions – magically aligned engagements – there is no proposal. Therefore, since the parchment you used claimed me to be your soul mate, your heart's desire, it was hardly necessary for me to do so. Nevertheless, if you desire a proper proposal, consider yourself as having been propositioned. If you still feel this is all in error, tell me how to locate your parchment, and maybe, just maybe, another option can be open to you."

"I don't have it," she said, his words still echoing in her mind. "I don't know where it is. Last time I had it was in the library in Grimmuald Place. Why don't you just go get it?"

His face fell into a hard, blank mask. "I can hardly take you there, and I doubt that I'd be welcomed in the door," he stated flatly.

"But you are a member of the Order – Dumbledore trusted you – I trusted you!" she said, backing away from him, frightened, although her words come out as a scathing sneer.

"Stupid, foolish girl! You still don't get it, do you?" he asked, taking a step toward her. "You have no understanding of exactly what role I play – do you? When I followed Dumbledore's wishes, I served two masters. Whenever I did what Dumbledore asked of me, I had to twist the evidence and truth to fit what the Dark Lord would accept. Dumbledore is dead. I have only one master now." She stepped back in shock, disbelief and horror. He followed her retreat, and Hermione found herself pressed against the bedpost, Snape looming over her with a smirk on his face.

His dark eyes seemed to look deep into her soul, his energy almost tangible. She looked up at him imploringly. "But you don't even like me! You don't respect me – or trust me – and you can't possibly love me! You don't care about me at all – not that way. And you want me to simply comply with this wedding... To be married to you – temporarily might I add – and not given any say as to whether or not I consent! How can I? You've called me insufferable know-it-all or silly girl more times than I can count... You've insulted my teeth, my hair, my intelligence and my desire to learn. You berate or insult me at every possible opportunity... We've never talked, discussed or shared anything personal... I know absolutely nothing about you... I have no idea who your friends are or if you have any true friends... I don't know what you do for fun, if you've ever traveled or... anything! All I know is that you like to read and brew potions and know more Dark Arts than anyone else I know. And you don't know me. You don't know anything about me! Need I go on?"

"I know you, Miss Granger," he said calmly, moving even closer to her, his gaze never wavering from her face, and their eyes locked on each other's. "I've watched over you for years. More so than any student that was in my own house – yes, even more than Draco," he stated firmly and with fierce conviction. Hermione made a condescending grunt, and Severus cocked his eyebrow. "You have no idea, do you? You don't think I've watched over you and your two friends, protected the three of you? You don't think the three of you were under my constant observation? You were. Every adventure, every rule you broke. I knew it was you who solved my logics barrier your first year. I know it was you who brewed the Polyjuice Potion and solved the mystery of the basilisk your second year. I knew you figured out that Lupin was a werewolf, even though he retracted my essay assignment. I know that you wrote Hagrid's defense for that hippogriff, even though Hagrid was too nervous to have used it. I know it was only because of your help that Potter made it through the challenges of the Triwizard Tournament. I know it was you who organized Dumbledore's Army, and I was well aware of your actions during the battle in the Department of Mysteries. And I was aware of your involvement the night the Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts – even though I tried to keep you out of that fight and safe. Yes, Miss Granger, I was watching you."

She stared at him in complete disbelief, obviously fighting to grasp what he said.

Snape turned his head, glaring at the wall, obviously frustrated and trying to compose himself.

"That is not respect – that is doing your duty. It's not the same thing. How can there be anything between us without respect, trust and love – if not love, at least friendship, something to build on?"

Snape raised his eyebrow, and his mouth twitched as he looked at her with a disapproving glare. "I couldn't show you any favoritism as my student, Miss Granger. Surely you can understand why."

"But if you liked or respected me at all, why were you so awful?" she asked stubbornly.

His face relaxed and his lips curled into a cold smile. "Because I was Head of Slytherin House, a Death Eater and a spy – for both sides, Miss Granger."

Hermione shook her head, not comprehending his rationale. "That would account for your treatment for my fourth year through my last – but hardly gives you the excuse for your treatment my first, second and third year. You were not a Death Eater then."

"Oh, wasn't I, Miss Granger? Or did you believe like every witch and wizard out there that Potter had vanquished the Dark Lord?" He laughed at her stunned expression. "I knew he would come back. I knew, as did Dumbledore, that the Dark Lord was simply diminished, weakened – but very much alive." Hermione continued to stare at him in disbelief. "I was the one who heard the Prophecy – me. I know Potter is to defeat the Dark Lord." Snape pulled the sleeve up on his left arm, turning his fist so that the Dark Mark was clearly visible, held directly between them.

Hermione couldn't help but to look down as he exposed his arm and stare at the image of a skull and snake, the dark image more than just a series of lines and shading on his arm. It wasn't a flat picture tattooed into his flesh, it looked alive, like a parasite in his skin. She was repulsed as well as fascinated by it. Tentatively and without thinking, she raised a finger to touch the mark. Snape smirked at her tenacity, but made no move to stop her. The mark was slightly raised, the skull as hard as bone, and the snake undulated slightly, but perceptively under her fingertips, as if the snake were alive but trapped within his very skin. She jerked her hand away and stared at him, finally comprehending.

"I am a Death Eater, Miss Granger. Draco is a Death Eater – so is Wormtail. Even after the Dark Lord was diminished – I knew he was not defeated. I knew he was not dead. My mark was still present, although not as dark as it is now. It was... placid, inactive. Nevertheless, I could on occasion still feel it. He was not dead."

"You knew? You knew, and yet you did nothing to save Harry's parents?" she stared at him, her tone and expression accusing.

"No?" he asked his eyes narrowed angrily at her accusation. "I tried. I told Dumbledore. I risked my life to tell the one wizard I thought could save Lily Evans and Potter. And for a price – one I was willing to pay to try and help them – all of them, Miss Granger. The prophecy stated that 'the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord would be born at the end of July, from parents that had thrice defied him.' I knew that the Longbottoms had defied the Dark Lord the required three times, so had Potter. I wasn't sure about Lily. I was banking on the Longbottoms' boy. I was instructed to try and secure my place at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord wanted me at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord went after the Potters himself. He rarely does anything so overt – himself."

Hermione's head swam, and she staggered backwards, bumping into the other bedpost. Snape walked towards her, and she moved away from him, backing towards the bookshelves. He easily stalked after her; however, before she reached his bookshelf, he walked past her and walked over to his bedside table. She watched, stunned, as he pulled out a crystal decanter, poured some of the amber liquid into a glass, and held it out to her. "It's scotch, Miss Granger, not poison."

Hermione hesitated.

"Take it," he said softly.

Hermione accepted the glass and watched as he poured himself a glass and sipped the liquid as he leaned against the window.

"I thought that you were going to – curse me?" she asked, swirling the liquid and inhaling the aroma. It is scotch... He drinks scotch?

"There is a spell on the door that will make your outburst just now sound like screaming," he said, sipping on his own drink. "To the perception of the two down stairs, I was quite harsh with you. Unless – you'd like to experience one of my many curses? I'd hate to disappoint you." He downed his drink with a knowing smirk and set down his glass before heading for the door.

Hermione shook her head, surprised yet again by his actions. He consistently did things that were unexpected. "Why?"

"Why?" he asked, raising one eyebrow as his mouth twitched, almost into a smile. "We are to be married by the end of the month, Miss Granger. Using the Cruciatus Curse on you would not be a very auspicious beginning of our union. Surely that is reason enough?"

"The end of the month?" she asked, choking on her drink. That means that we will... have to – consummate... Oh, my gods! No! He is – we are going to...

He crossed to her in three quick steps, making her recoil back into the bookcase. "Yes, Miss Granger, the end of the month." He sneered at the reaction on her face, then turned and strode from the room, saying, "Just before I have to return to Hogwarts."

Hermione stood alone in the room, watching as the door closed behind him and feeling trapped. By the end of the month! Before he reports to Hogwarts? He's returning to teach? Her head swam, and she grabbed onto the bedpost for support. He killed Dumbledore – how can he return? Oh, gods, what else is going on I don't know about?

Her world just seemed to flip upside down again. I'm to be married to Snape. He's returning to Hogwarts. By the end of the month... How many days is that? She tried calculating the days she'd been in his house and couldn't be sure. She didn't have anything to go by. No classes; no calendar. It could be a few days or a week or three for all I know!

Hermione began to fume about the loss of control of her life. I trusted that Snape, a member of the Order, would – could help me escape. I was certain that he would help me find a way out and so far all he's done is present me before the Dark Lord and allow those women to plan our wedding! He chose... She threw her tumbler into the wall, grabbed his and threw it as well, and then stood there, her hands clenched tightly in fists as she fought back a scream. Snape's owl, Aetos, snapped his beak irritably each time she passed his perch as she began to pace angrily. "How can he think I will marry him? This is preposterous!" she stopped by the chair and stared at the glass in the window. "Insufferable know-it-all, insipid child, little girl... he has never said one kind thing – ever! I cannot please him. He's condescending, cantankerous, infuriatingly smug... and sneering at me all the time, demeaning... And that – that Belinda has the gall to call me lucky! He can't even stand me – but oh, yes, he's willing to hand fast with me for a year of frolicking fun! Sure, yes, he's amiable to that!"

Hermione threw herself down on the bed and cried.

~o0o~

Severus sat in the sitting room with a large tome in his hands, although his mind would not focus on the text. He'd been livid to hear Narcissa telling Hermione about the hand fasting. He hadn't truly desired a hand fasting, although in retrospect the Dark Lord had alluded to the idea several times. The conversation with the Dark Lord played out in his mind.

"This is what I want, Severus. Had you paid any attention to the parchment in her memories, you would have seen the effects of the spells on it. I'm disappointed in you. Nevertheless, Narcissa is correct, having you married to the girl will demoralize the Weasley boy and unnerve and unsettle Harry Potter. She was the brains behind his success at school, and without her, he will flounder – I saw that in her mind."

Severus wanted to disagree, but the impression that Potter couldn't succeed without Miss Granger's help would play nicely in their plans... He would just have to use her. That's preposterous. She won't be able to do it... No, Cillian – he's the better choice.

Draco looked up at Severus, and he casually turned the page again, not really having read a word. I have less than two weeks to subdue her or seduce her – to make her comply... He snorted in derision. She may respect me or admire me academically, and her body reacts to me, but I've probably lost her trust, and getting her to agree, let alone comply, to this hand fasting will be a challenge.

Hermione is promised to Weasley – of course she's told me as much. The Dark Lord had accepted my suggestion of hand fasting with her, instead of marrying her, apparently amused, assuming that I only wanted Miss Granger as a temporary plaything. Nevertheless, he insisted that we be magically bonded. The hand fasting alone is preferable, as it would only be temporary – but bonded would become permanent if Hermione became pregnant. He could be darn sure that she never became pregnant. This solution is at least acceptable to the Dark Lord. I've bought her a year and a day – if I can stand her that long. He'd leave her alone tonight, going into bed late, and would rise early. He just didn't need any more of her tantrums.

Narcissa and Lucius had performed the bonding during their hand fasting, a common practice between purebloods. Narcissa had come to me to help her conceive because after ten months of trying, she'd been unable to affirm and seal the bonding with a pregnancy, and thus he had obliged her. Lucius had made Severus an honorary uncle to Draco for his services. However, Hermione is a Muggle-born. She sees this magically bonded hand fasting as a temporary marriage followed by a magical divorce. Moreover, apparently Hermione doesn't want me. She has given no indication what so ever that she desires to wed me – in any fashion. I will be forced to consummate this union with an unwilling partner. He seethed at the thought of forcing her. She still expects me to open my door and simply let her walk out and go. Stupid girl. The situation is too precarious for me to do that. She would become a target – equal to only Potter if she just left, and the Dark Lord would kill me. She knows too much – even if she doesn't realize it – or remember – yet.