The Morning After

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~o 14 o~

The Morning After

The dark apparition moved around her, blocking everything else from her by his billowing black robes and sleeves. She stood frozen, her left wrist grasped tightly in his fist. "My Lord, Hermione. I'm your master now." She couldn't breathe; she couldn't move. The very air about her was cold, dank, heavy and oppressive, nearly smothering her. "You are a Death Eater's wife and thus you now belong to me." She could feel his malevolence radiating, his hatred of her radiate from him in palatable waves, feel his gaze as he stared at her and feel his breath on her skin and hair. "Say it, 'My Lord,' I want to hear you to say it to me." Her fear enveloped her like a Lethifold. His lips curled and stretched into a sneer that showed a set of fangs, which gave his white, snake-like face and glowing red eyes a ghastly appearance. "You are mine. 'Yes, master' – say it!" He was looming over her threateningly, his slit-like pupils retracting and his nares flaring. "Show me your loyalty; succumb to me – say it." His cold red eyes were glaring at her with obvious malice. "Say it – take it!" he demanded, his wand pressed into her arm, making her bleed, and her fear sliced through her like a thousand stabbing knives. "You are going to accept it, aren't you? Because you are mine, Hermione, do not forget that."

Hermione sat up, gasping for air, sweaty and shaking uncontrollably, her every nerve afire with a freezing intensity. It was dark, almost like a tomb, the air stale and oppressive, and she began to panic, her heart racing wildly in her chest, her lungs unable to take in enough air. She groped around until she realized she was on a bed. She quickly fumbled to the edge and encountered bed hangings, and started batting and swinging her hands wildly against the fabric until she found a way out.

Hermione tumbled from the bed and into Snape's bedroom, recognition of the familiar crashing over her as the dream faded. I'm still here. His bedroom – his house. I'm still with him. She looked at her arm, expecting to see the Dark Mark marring her flesh, scarring her as his for life. There was a bruise on her forearm where the Dark Lord's wand had pressed into her, but the rest of her skin was unmarred and undamaged. She looked around the room. Even without Snape's presence, his things gave her a sense of reassurance. Trust and obey him, and he will help me survive this – I know he will. Her hands were still shaky, and her legs felt weak, but she scrambled off the floor and into the loo, dropping the nightgown to the floor as she entered the shower.

The icy blast of the water before it heated up refreshed her mind and gave her strength, but her nerves, stretched to their limits, seemed to break as her emotions washed over her. Tears slid unchecked down her face as she used Snape's soap to wash, the woodsy scent so masculine, so familiar and almost reassuring. She inhaled the scent, hoping it could relieve the growing ache inside her, but the tears flowed harder, and she began to cry again. Her mind raced over the events of her summer, images and memories crashing down on her. Raped, tortured, attacked, imprisoned, assaulted, intimidated, splinched, married, seduced, threatened and still his prisoner... She slid down the tile and wrapped her arms around her knees, giving into the despair she felt.

She heard the door close, and she turned her head, still curled up sobbing on the shower floor. She hadn't realized he had been in the room. He's here. At least he's here. If it weren't for Snape, I'd have gone insane. She recalled each time she'd been hurt, assaulted and could have been maimed. He's been there for me, healing me, doing everything he could, everything he can. But can he really protect me from the Dark Lord? From the other Death Eaters? Well, them maybe – but from the Dark Lord? She recalled how he'd behaved at her summons. He stood near her, but at a distance, unemotional, and stiff, allowing the Dark Lord to do whatever he wanted. He even held me and forced me to watch the Dark Lord as he tortured Wormtail. The memory brought fresh tears and choked sobs. Snape's words in her ear had been spoken in his low, silky drawl, 'He wants you to watch; it will be over soon.' Was he trying to be supportive or reassuring? The Dark Lord had been punishing her as much as Wormtail that day, and she knew it.

A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to see Snape leaning against the open door frame, taking in her position in the shower with a slight sneer. "Do you mind not wasting water?"

"Sorry," she said, awkwardly scrambling to her feet.

"I have a personal errand I need to do. I expect you to be dressed and packed when I return. My mother's trunk is next to the bed, and Draco will give you your school robes and supplies. I have an assortment of books you may use until we can acquire your old school trunk," he said smoothly. "Do not remove any of my personal books from this room. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, intimidated by his cool demeanor.

Severus's gaze swept over her, making Hermione flush slightly. "Cillian will be arriving shortly, so pull yourself together. He shall be going with us," he said, turning to leave.

Hermione quickly rinsed herself off, reaching for the shampoo.

She showered quickly, only stalling long enough to let the conditioner soak in her hair before rinsing. She mulled over what she might expect at school. If Snape is going to be Headmaster, how will that affect me? How will my housemates react when they find out I'm married to Snape? Actually, she was looking forward to being in her dormitory again, having some sense of normalcy. She finished her shower and returned to the bedroom, finding the trunks from downstairs sitting on the floor. Peren was already busily packing her things, what few she had, into an open trunk.

Hermione looked at the trunk sitting by the bed. The trunk had a sizable bookshelf in the lid of the compartment and a lingerie tray that Peren had already filled for her. The house-elf had carefully folded Hermione's wedding robes and had placed them in the trunk as well. Dropping the lid, Peren turned another key, opening up another lock. Hermione's eyes opened wide as she noticed that the trunk had four locks before Peren threw open the second compartment. The lid had niches and nooks already filled with parchments, quills, inkwells and other stationary supplies. Peren levitated a removable secretary, exposing a large compartment with cubbyholes for her shoes. Her two house robes, one dark blue, the other Slytherin green, lay inside along with her black cloak. Hermione quickly dressed in her black robes and her soft boots as Peren pulled the hooded black robes from the wardrobe, which she'd worn the day she'd been captured. "Peren, I won't need those. Please get rid of them."

Peren looked up at her, startled. "But I fix them, mistress. I did a good job with the tears; you can hardly sees them anymore."

Hermione picked up the garment, noticing that it had been meticulously mended with a sense of awe. Still the garment held horrible memories for her. Segmented memories of scowling faces, sneering and lewd comments from behind skull masks with glowing hateful and lustful eyes shining through the eye sockets hit her. She dropped the garment on the floor with shaking hands and shook her head to rid herself of the unwanted images. "No, this – I can't ever wear it again. Please, Peren, get rid of it."

Peren nodded as if actually understanding, and the robe vanished from sight. "Is mistress wanting her hats?"

"Yes, Peren, everything that is mine," she replied.

Peren looked up at her, her eyes enlarging as if she'd said something wrong. "Everything, mistress?"

"Yes, Peren, everything," she answered, going to the loo to collect her belongings from the cupboards. She returned, her arms full, depositing them on the floor next to the trunk.

"I is to do this," Peren said nervously, trying to stop Hermione from placing them in her trunk. "Please, mistress, lets me."

"Peren, I can pack my own trunk," Hermione said with a grin.

"But I is to do this," she insisted, tears forming in her large green eyes, her lips and ears quivering.

"Okay," she relented, and Peren's pout turned into a huge grin.

Peren ran into the loo, coming out with the rest of Hermione's potions and lotions, carefully placing each item in the trunk. She stood up and looked at Hermione with a worried expression. "Mistress, is I going to school with you and Master Snape?"

Hermione didn't know what to say. "I dunno. I don't think anyone brings a house-elf to school. Hogwarts has a hundred house-elves already."

"But I wants to go with you," Peren said, her green eyes filling with tears again, like a child being left off at school for first time.

"Peren, don't cry!" she exclaimed, pulling the elf into a hug. Instantly Peren stopped crying.

"Oh, how very touching," Draco sneered from the doorway, a thick a garment bag draped over his shoulder. "Elf, go get the rest of Hermione's things from my room. They are on the chair next to my bed." He dumped the bag on the bed, looking down at Hermione. "Here are your school robes. Merlin, you're costing Snape a bundle."

Hermione blushed. "I do have money, Draco; I can pay him back."

Draco snorted. "You're going to pay your husband back for things he should be providing you? Snape? Really Gra – Hermione, you are so naïve. He won't accept it, and if you did offer to, he'd be insulted."

Peren came back, struggling under a large pile of packages. "Oh, my gods, Peren, here let me help you!"

"Blimey, you're unbelievable! You're actually helping the help!" Draco said, laughing.

Hermione ignored him as she unwrapped all the packages while Peren deftly put away her school robes and clothes. Hermione looked over the school supplies Severus had bought for her and handed them to Peren, who added her books to the shelves in the first compartment. If Draco thought the trunk unusual, he didn't show it. When Hermione saw her new Potions book, Peren closed the lid and opened another lock. Another sizable bookshelf was revealed in the lid, and the large compartment already had cauldrons, potions supplies and utensils inside, all in excellent condition. Hermione picked up a set of new brass measuring spoons and a set of scales with extra calibrating and balance indicators, wondering where they came from. They were definitely more complicated than the ones used at school.

"Nice, Hermione, are you going to use them in Potions then?" he asked with a chuckle. "The standard scales and measuring spoons too average for you?"

"I have no idea where these came from, Draco, and no, I like the standard issued ones. These look ridiculously complicated and unnecessary," she replied, setting them back into her trunk. "Maybe they are Snape's?"

"No, he uses standard scales. He wouldn't use those," Draco stated. "Peren, I need you to pack my trunks."

Peren was retrieving the potions, books and flower vase from Hermione's bedside table. "If my mistress wants Peren to do it, I is happy to when I is done, sir."

"When you are done?" Draco asked, taken aback. "Did you call me sir? Since when do you call me sir?"

"Ah, er, yes, sir. When I is done with my mistress's packing, Peren is happy to pack yours too, sir," Peren said, placing the new quills in the second compartment.

"Elf, come here," Draco demanded, and Peren looked at Hermione as if struggling with the idea. "Now."

"Peren, just hand me the books and do what he says," Hermione suggested, not wanting to cause Peren trouble.

Peren's ears drooped as she handed the books to Hermione. "Yes, mistress, I will..."

"Wait. Did you call her mistress? Since when do you call her mistress?" Draco asked, perplexed. "Peren jump up and down."

"She will not! How dare you!" Hermione exclaimed. "Peren, you can go now, thank you." Peren bowed and ran from the room.

"Wait, come back here," Draco called after her. Peren didn't return. "Peren!" After a few seconds, Draco turned on Hermione. "Call her back."

"What?" Hermione asked, incensed. "I will do no such thing!"

"Call her," Draco said adamantly.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "I will not..."

He looked at her as if she were testing his patience. "Humor me, will you? Call her – only like it's an order."

Hermione looked at him as if he'd lost his Gobstones. "Peren, please come back here."

Peren appeared with a pop. "Yes, mistress," she said, bowing low.

Draco began to laugh so hard he bent over.

"Okay, what is so funny?" Hermione asked him.

"You don't get it, do you?" Draco choked out between laughs. "Oh, Mum is going to have a fit."

"About what?" she asked, perplexed.

"Peren, who is your master?" Draco asked the elf, ignoring Hermione's question.

"I serve the noble house of Granger-Snape, sir," Peren said proudly with a deep bow, nearly touching her little plump nose to the floor.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "You what?"

Draco stopped laughing. "Don't you realize? My mum actually gave Peren to you, Hermione. The morning before your wedding, remember? In the sitting room, when you refused to come to the manor without taking her with you? Apparently, Mum gave you a house-elf as a wedding gift! Priceless!"

Hermione was stunned, staring at Draco with her mouth agape. "No!"

"Apparently, yes," Draco said the same time Peren replied, enthusiastically, "Oh, yes, mistress, I serves you now!"

Peren looked from Draco back to Hermione twisting her fingers together. "So, does this mean Peren can come with her mistress to school with her?" Peren asked with a hopeful expression.

Hermione took in her with big green eyes looking up at her imploringly. "Alright, yes, you can come." Peren made a happy bounce, all smiles, and ran from the room.

Draco shook his head, grinning at her. "Another first. What, Hogwarts house-elves aren't good enough for you either?"

"Harry had his house-elf at school. Don't other students bring theirs?" she asked, not seeing what was funny.

"No, they don't," Draco stated and then looked at her, bemused. "Look, the school lists say you can bring a cat, an owl, or a toad – no house-elves. So, no, students don't bring their own house-elf with them. I don't know why Potter thought he was above the rules, but then, we are talking about Potter, aren't we?" Hermione started to take offence, but Draco cut her off. "I don't want to fight about it, but it seems I need to ask you a favor. Hermione, I'm having some friends over in a bit. Could you please inform your house-elf to fix snacks and tea for six?"

If he hadn't been smirking amusedly, she would have thrown a book at him. "Yeah, I'll just go down and let her know."

Draco looked like he was ready to burst out laughing at her again. "She will hear you, you know. You just have to say it out loud."

She glared at him, not finding any of this amusing. "I want breakfast anyway," she said, getting up. "Are you coming?"

Breakfast was sitting on the table as soon as Hermione and Draco entered the kitchen. "See, she heard you," he said mockingly as he sat down.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked, and Draco shook his head. "Then why are you sitting with me?"

"Some habits die hard," he said, sipping on his tea.

The silence stretched as Draco watched her eat. Being observed reminded Hermione that there would be Death Eaters constantly watching her in the school. Snape is having his friend watch over me as protection. Would any of them really harm me? The Dark Lord said I was his. She tried to shake off the lingering concerns from her dream and the talk she'd had with the Dark Lord on her wedding night. Her hand shook slightly as she sipped her tea, and Hermione hoped Draco wasn't watching her close enough to notice. The memory of his wand pressing into her skin gave her uncontrollable chills. What if he really does insist I take his Dark Mark? She kept looking at Draco speculatively, her eyes falling to his left arm each time he set down his teacup. "Draco, may I, um..."

"You are staring at me, Hermione. What, is it?" his asked, his tone impatient.

He's a Death Eater; that means he took the Dark Mark, doesn't it? She looked up at him, wondering if he'd be forthright with her. "I was wondering..." Oh, just ask him! "May I see your Mark?"

"What?" he asked, not quite comprehending her request.

Tentatively, she pointed to his left arm. "Your Mark – may I see it?"

"Why? Are you thinking of taking it?" he asked, confused.

She could feel her cheeks warm, and for the first time ever, she wished they were on better terms. "No, I was just..."

He pulled up his sleeve and held his arm out in front of her. "There, happy?" Her hand rose to it involuntarily and Draco laughed. "Go on, touch it if you want."

The snake undulated in his pale skin as he tightened the muscles on his forearm, making the Dark Mark seem to swell slightly. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Yes, sometimes, depending on his moods." Draco relaxed his hand, the muscles of his forearm going lax, and the snake seemed to relax as well. "It's my connection to him; it's like I can... feel him."

Like Harry's scar, she surmised. "So it hurts when he activates it, I mean when he summons you?"

He pulled down his sleeve, sneering. "Okay, it's like this. I can feel it in my skin, like it's alive. When the Dark Lord summons me, I know immediately if he is happy or angry, somewhat, well, most of the time, and I know where he is. I can go to him. It's an awareness, but yes, sometimes it hurts." He looked at her intently. "Just why are you asking?"

"Curious," she answered, not really comfortable confiding in him about her nightmare.

"Curiosity killed the Kneazle," he teased her. ""He won't offer it to the likes of you, so don't concern yourself. Or are you curious as to why I took it?"

"Yes and no," she said, curious if he'd tell her.

"It's simple. My dad is a Death Eater, and so is my mum. It was expected that I'd join eventually," he stated so mater of factly. "When Dad was imprisoned, I was given the offer to accept the Dark Mark and restore my family's honor and to secure my mum's life, or forfeit everything. I took the Mark and accepted the task he gave me to save my mum's life."

"He didn't! He threatened your mum?" she asked, stunned, and he nodded. "Draco, if he'd threaten your mum just to make you take his Dark Mark, how do you know he wouldn't make me take it for some equally twisted reason?"

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Draco said as he stood to leave the table. "He won't even ask you to take his Mark; it would go against everything he stands for. You cannot spout purity of blood, demand your followers to wipe out Muggle-borns, then give you, a Muggle-born, his seal, and induct you into his inner circle. He'd be a hypocrite."

She touched the bruise on her forearm. "What if he did mark me as a sign or something to Harry? Proof that I'd turned against him and joined the dark side?"

"Fat chance," he said. "Look, my friends will be here soon. If you want, you can join us, but I don't think you'd be all that comfortable with us Slytherins yet, even if Snape and the Dark Lord have told us to befriend you." He turned as a knocking sound echoed into the hallway. "They're here. It's what I'm supposed to talk to them about; that you really are Snape's wife, and we are not allowed to harm or harass you. Strange isn't it? Us not hexing each other?"

"Hilarious. I think I'd rather go out in the back garden and pull weeds," she said sarcastically.

He laughed as he left the room. "Yeah, right, you're hilarious."

She rose to take her dish to the kitchen, hoping that Draco would keep his friends in the sitting room. No such luck. She heard Draco's laugh as the hidden door opened. Peren looked up at her expectantly as Hermione set down her dish. "Does my mistress want anything else?"

"No, I'm fine," she replied with a smile, turning to leave.

"So things are going to be different this year at Hogwarts," a gruff, scratchy voice was saying loudly. "No more Mudbloods and undesirables."

She quickly walked to the doorway in hopes of not crossing paths with Draco's friends.

"That's not all, we're gonna be learnin' the Dark Arts – really learnin' them," a softly spoken deep voice said with enthusiasm.

"Who's teaching that class?" Hermione recognized Goyle's low raspy voice before she saw him enter the kitchen. She quickly ducked into the hallway and tried the latch for the classroom door. It was unfortunately locked.

"Carrow, who else?" Draco answered.

Hermione recognized Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe as they milled around in the dining room, but didn't recognize the other two guys, who were obviously a year or two younger than Draco.

Hermione sighed, not really wanting to pass by the guys, but knew that she couldn't get into potions lab, classroom or out the back door, which left her very few options. There was one other door in the hall. She tried the latch, and to her surprise, the door opened, revealing a sunroom. She let herself in, walking along the gardening table and bay windows, looking at the collection of plants and herbs. Many of the plants were slightly overgrown for their pots, and most looked as if they'd recently been harvested for potion ingredients or cooking. There was a few alihotsy with very few leaves, a screechsnap that looked fairly wilted and six gurdyroots, which been recently harvested, probably for last night's stew. An aquarium stood along a wall holding the remains of some water avens, muddaubers, and a few parispiny pods. Mostly the room looked as if it had been abandoned. Hermione picked up the alihotsy, turning it in her hands. There was evidence of new growth on the stems, and she wondered if the fragile-looking plant would survive until Snape returned home next summer.

She turned around, and her gaze fell on what looked like a plastic doghouse tucked under one of the tables in the far corner. Curious, Hermione walked over to it and squatted down. To her surprise, it had a blanket and a tiny pillow inside, folded neatly into a tiny bed and a small pile of belongings in a box covered with a tea towel. Peren must use this as her room, she thought, appalled, even though the plastic doghouse was meticulously clean. Hermione lifted out the box and the tiny bedding, wondering if she should ask Peren to pack them in her trunk. Curious as to what personal items Peren would keep, Hermione lifted the tea towel and was shocked to see several of her things tucked neatly inside, the things Severus had taken from her pockets the day she'd been captured and brought here. "What are these doing in here?" she asked softly, setting the box down. Several Wildfire Whiz-Bangs sparkler balls and two small canisters of Swamp Ooze rolled around in the box on top of her study guide. "I wonder where the Hand of Glory went to?"

"I is sorry, mistress, but Peren was told to get rids of them," Peren said, standing in the doorway holding a tray, her ears drooping. "But you is nice to Peren, so I is getting them for you and keeping them safe from Master Snape."

"You kept them? All my things?" she asked incredulously.

Peren nodded, her big ears flapping with each nod, although she looked really worried. She approached cautiously, looking around for somewhere to place the tray before gently setting it on the floor next to Hermione. "Is you looking for anything else?"

Hermione bit her lip, wondering if Snape would have kept her Hand of Glory. "Do you remember a black shriveled hand holding a candle as well?" Peren nodded, crinkling her nose in a distasteful expression and popped out, returning with the shriveled hand, holding it like it was disgusting to her. "I'm grateful. Thank you. Could you hide these in my trunk? And if you'd like to take your blanket and pillow, pack that as well."

"Mistress, what about your pet?" Peren asked nervously.

Hermione looked at the tiny pillow in her hand, suddenly feeling sad. Crookshanks was still at the Burrow, for all she knew. "Peren, can you go to the Burrow and get him?"

Peren looked at her confused. "Yes, Mistress... I could... but your pet is here," she said, pulling out the little pink Pigmy Puff in a wicker cage Fred had teasingly given her, looking at the tiny creature with a look of longing.

Hermione was stunned. "Peren, you've kept him!" she said with a chuckle, watching Peren's look of longing, knowing she didn't really want to give it back to her. "You can keep the Pigmy Puff if you like. I was referring to my cat, Crookshanks. He's at the Burrow. If you'd get him and his carrier, I'd be very grateful."

Peren smiled broadly, bowing low, promising to get her cat right after placing her things in her trunk. She quickly grabbed the box, balancing the pigmy puff on top, and popped out. Hermione sat back on her heels and laughed softly. Wait till Snape comes home and sees my cat. I wonder if he even likes cats? But since there isn't any evidence that he currently has a pet, I seriously doubt it. She looked at the doghouse wondering. Maybe he had a dog as a kid?

Hermione stayed in the room until she became bored, walking down the hall as quietly as she could, hoping to go to Snape's room unnoticed. No such luck. Draco intercepted her in the hall, insisting on introducing her to the Slytherin prefects Dwayne Hardgrave and Walter Nott. Zabini and Crabbe had some lovely things to say, which Hermione pointedly ignored, and after a round of veiled insults, she finally managed to excuse herself for the sanctuary of Snape's bedroom.

She was sitting on the chair by the window, reading when Snape came into get her. "Are you all packed?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, setting the book down on his bed and rising to face him.

He levitated her trunk and motioned her to follow him. "Cillian is downstairs. We're just waiting for the car, and then we leave."

"Will Draco be coming with us?" she asked, following him down the stairs.

"Yes, as will his friends," he replied, opening the door for her to the sitting room. "You've met the new Slytherin house prefect, I'm told?"

"Yes," she said, not wanting to elaborate any.

Snape smirked at her knowingly. "I'm glad to see you're making friends."

"If they're to be my friends, I won't need any enemies," she replied softly. She entered the sitting room surprised to find it empty. Hermione took the opportunity to talk to Snape. "Sir, if I'm going to be taking classes... won't I need a wand?" she asked.

Snape smiled, reached into his robes and pulled out her wand. "Of course you will. But you will have restrictions until I am assured that I can trust you. You will be allowed to have it in class," he said smoothly and stowed it away again. She was stunned to see it, assuming it had been lost in the glade back in June. "Hermione, there are a few things you should know." He pulled three books from his shelves and handed them to her.

She quickly read the titles: The Truth About Muggles, Of Pride and Prejudice and The Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction of the Condemned Heretic.

"You'll need to read these before school starts," he said smoothly as he sat down. The first two will anger and insult you, and the third you'll find enlightening, but they contain information that is necessary for you to know. This is how purebloods see Muggles and Muggle-borns. It's the basis of the pureblood prejudices. You'll be facing a lot of these sentiments this year, I am afraid; more so than you have before. Secondly, you will wear your jewelry at all times. I cannot have you trying to escape. And you are going to need to learn Occlumency. Once you can master closing your mind, I can be more open with you. But if you will behave and be good, you will get your education and more, I assure you. Please, trust me. There will be things I will be needing you to do for me from time to time, and I need to know I can count on you."

"So, you're still helping the Order, aren't you?" she asked in shock.

Snape leaned back and crossed his arms. "Who do you think I want to win this war? Don't answer, but hear me out. There is more going on than you realize. Cillian is a good guy whose family was enthralled by and joined up with a powerful and charismatic wizard, and they pledged their loyalty to him, just like Draco's parents did. And like their parents, it was expected for them to take the oath and the Dark Mark. Have you not noticed a change, however subtle, in Draco? The death of Dumbledore hit Draco hard, and the weeks that followed, well, Draco has shown weaknesses. Narcissa blames me, and I blame it on the fact that his eyes are opening. Cillian is likewise becoming disenchanted and may be influential. Just be yourself, Hermione, and you will find yourself an ally, possibly two."

Hermione listened, hardly hoping what he was saying could be true. "If you think that they will switch sides, aren't you taking a considerable risk telling me this?"

"Yes," he said just before the door opened and Cillian entered.

She looked up as soon as he entered the room. "Hi, how are you?"

"Hello, Hermione, fine. Are you looking forward to your last year at school?" Cillian asked amiably.

"Yes, thank you." She walked over and sat in the chair by the Floo to wait.

"Sorry, did I interrupt anything?" He picked up two of Hermione's books and let out a long whistle. "Of Pride and Prejudice and The Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction of the Condemned Heretic. A little light reading before school? You won't like these much."

Hermione picked up The Truth About Muggles and opened up the book to the first page. "So I have been told."

"You won't like that book at all," he said, laughing, pointing at the book in her hand. "Aren't you Muggle-born? Where did you get these?"

"From me," Snape stated, picking up his own book and opening it up to the marker. "She needs to know what she's facing."

"Idiotic posturing and biased stupidity," Cillian murmured under his breath, turning for the window. "Don't suppose you have a spare book I can read, do you?" Severus gave him an incredulous quirk of his eyebrow and lifted up another Potions book from beside his seat. "So, how about it, Hermione, happy to be going back to Hogwarts?" Cillian asked, ignoring the gesture.

"Yes," she replied, scanning the introduction of her book. The truth was it was horrible, and the suggestions in the book were insulting to her. "Is this really what some wizards believe? That all Muggles are stupid, mindless and naïve?"

"Yes," Cillian responded. "That book was written after several hundred years of segregation and avoidance. Wizardkind had been so out of touch with Muggles that we haven't kept up with their society. It's like your other book Of Pride and Prejudice. You have to consider when it was written and what was happening in the two worlds. Of Pride and Prejudice was written after the so called witch hunts. Both men and women accused of being witches were persecuted in order to extinguish knowledge about magic. Although, many of those women who were accused, were accused of destroying entire fields of crops, causing pestilences and diseases, controlling the weather and performing birth control. All the allegations were from either ignorant superstitions, fear, or false accusations for revenge, and many of the people accused were subsequently pronounced as witches simply to be rid of them. Very few were actually witches or wizards in the first place. But those who were had to go into hiding, concealment or move to uninhabited places."

"It is a prevalent human tendency to blame unexplainable occurrences on someone or something familiar," Snape stated casually.

"It was religious leaders who killed any alleged practitioners of witchcraft outright," Cillian stated. "Our kind developed a hatred based out of the prejudices and suspicions that Muggles accused us of. And we were blamed for the burnings of many innocent men and women. Real wizards and witches became desperate for their lives and those of loved ones, wizardkind and Muggle. It was a bad time."

"And you don't agree with it?" Hermione asked, dropping the book on the lap.

"I do, yes, of course. Some of it," Cillian said, although Hermione knew he was suddenly uncomfortable about the subject. "You read the books, and you tell me what you think. I'll clarify for you what you don't understand. Unless ol' Severus wants to, that is."

"By all means, enlighten the girl. But in the mean time, lower your voices," Snape said smoothly. "I'm trying to read."

She'd no sooner gotten comfortable and began reading again than Peren popped in with Crookshanks, growling annoyingly in his carrier.

"What in bloody Hades is that?" Snape bellowed, pointing at the carrier.

"My cat!" Hermione stated excitedly, jumping up to sooth her pet.

Snape was suddenly looming over her. "And why is the elf bringing it here?"

Hermione looked up, confused. "I asked her to." Crookshanks continued to growl unhappily in his cage, and Peren tried to duck behind Hermione.

"Where, exactly, did the elf retrieve it from?" he asked, his dark eyes narrowed into a fierce scowl.

Hermione looked up at him from where she squatted down next to the carrier. "The Burrow," she said, waiting for his outburst, and really felt like cowering.

"What did you say to them when you went to retrieve this cat?" Snape barked at Peren, his dark eyes flashing dangerously.

"N-nothing, Master Snape, sir," she replied, peeking around Hermione's shoulder. "Peren only say I is to get the cat, Crookshanks, and his carrier for my mistress."

"Who saw you?" he snapped at her.

"A red-haired girl," Peren said, walking around to face Snape properly. "She had the cat in her room, and she gave him to Peren." She was shivering, and Hermione reached out to try and reassure the elf.

"Did you tell her where you were taking the cat?" Snape asked, glaring angrily at Peren.

"Yes, master. To my mistress, sir," Peren said, cowering.

"I asked her to go," Hermione said, trying to deflect some of Snape's anger off of Peren.

"The house-elf cannot disclose your secrets, Severus." Cillian walked over and looked down at Hermione as she stroked Crookshanks fur through the small opening in the top of the carrier. "Besides, isn't your house under the Fidelius Charm?" Cillian asked.

"Yes," Snape replied sharply.

"Then the elf couldn't have said where Hermione is," Cillian reasoned.

Snape was unconvinced. "But did you tell her that Hermione would be going to school?"

"No, sir! Peren keeps your secrets, sir. She asks all kinds of questions, but Peren said she couldn't answers them. I told her I cannot says anything. I keep my master's secrets," she replied, twisting her fingers nervously. "Peren only said her mistress sent her to get the cat, Crookshanks."

Snape suddenly turned on Hermione. "And why in bloody hell did you ask her to do that?"

"Because he's my pet," she replied defensively, rising up to her feet. "I couldn't just leave him at the Burrow indefinitely – and besides, I missed him."

Snape crossed his arms, looking anything but pleased. "And where are you going to keep him?"

"In my room of course – just as I've always done," Hermione replied, frightened that he would refuse to let her take him.

Cillian started laughing. "What is so funny?" Snape snapped at his friend.

"Didn't you know she had a cat?" Cillian asked.

"No," Snape said, glaring at the carrier again.

"Well, now you do," Cillian said, turning to Hermione. "Well, go on then, bring him out so we can see him."

Just then a car horn sounded on the street. "You can see the beast at the castle." Snape turned to the bookshelves, opening up the concealed door. "Draco, we're leaving."

The car ride from Snape's house to Hogsmeade seemed fairly quick, but since the car they rode in had the same spells on it as the Knight Bus, it was impossible to tell how far they actually traveled to get to Hogsmeade. Not that it mattered. She had no idea if she would ever return to Snape's home again anyway. Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini sat in one seat, talking quietly while Hermione had been situated between Snape and Cillian in the back seat. Dwayne Hardgrave and Walter Nott had returned to their homes using Portkeys. Still, Hermione knew that Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini were only coming to school early because of her and for no other reason.

They'd ridden in relative silence, Hermione making occasional outraged huffs and snorts as she read her book. By the time they reached Hogsmeade, she'd finished scanning the book and was perusing Of Pride and Prejudice. To say that this book was going to be any more enjoyable would have been a flat out lie.

The car dropped them off near the Hogsmeade train station, not too far from the platform. Seeing the familiar landmark that signified each new year at Hogwarts for her, Hermione felt a wave of unease she'd never felt before. Cillian helped levitate Hermione's trunk onto the platform with his, receiving a smirk from Snape. She was amazed to see about twenty or more people in cloaks with their hoods covering their faces disembark the train, nearly half making their way to the road where the carriage stood waiting. Everyone was keeping to themselves or in small groups, whispering to each other. It wasn't the cheerful, rambunctious, happy gathering she was used to seeing from years before. The atmosphere was subdued and wary. The Thestrals stood in their halters of the carriages, and Hermione cringed when she realized that she could see them, although she wasn't as intimated by them. Cillian fell into his seat, and his gaze swept from Severus to Hermione as Snape offered her his hand to help her climb into their carriage, taking his place across from her. Hermione stared out the windows watching as the carriages took off, feeling a little nervous anticipation. She was going to be the only Muggle-born in the school, and the thought was a little unnerving.

To relax, Hermione picked up the book and continued reading.

"So what classes are you going to be taking?" Cillian asked after a long silence.

"She will be continuing in the classes she had last year, with the addition of Muggle Studies and the Dark Arts," Snape said nonchalantly, as he turned a page. "Hermione will get her schedule tomorrow like all the other students."

"I didn't carry on with Muggle Studies past my third year," Hermione said softly.

Snape simply raised his eyebrow and lowered his nose back into his book. Flustered, Hermione did the same. Cillian kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him, completely disregarding Snape's reproachful look, and thumbed through The Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction of the Condemned Heretic with a slight scowl on his face, then set the book down and looked out of the window.

Cillian moved over to sit next to Hermione to talk about her past years at Hogwarts, sharing little anecdotes from his own. Several times when Cillian began telling her about his years at Hogwarts, Snape would coolly warn Cillian to change the subject, making Hermione all the more intrigued with what Cillian might have told her. Typically, it was Hermione doing most of the talking with Cillian listening in rapt attention.

"So you really turned yourself into a cat?" Cillian asked, laughing. "Severus, did you know she made Polyjuice Potion her second year? Man, that's amazing!"

"Yes, she's quite the witch," Severus said, his expression indifferent. "You will have your hands full keeping her out of trouble." All too soon, the carriage pulled up in front of the castle, and Snape disembarked, once again holding out his hand to assist Hermione, then turned to Cillian. "I've made arrangements for you to have my old rooms in the dungeons. I hope they suite you."

"I hope the house-elves managed to get the smells of the potions ingredients out of the drapes," Cillian said and laughed when Severus scowled at him. "I'm sure the room will suit me fine, thank you."

"As you well know, it's easy access to my personal lab and storage rooms. I'd rather have you there than – some imbecile ingrate who'd mess with my more – personal items," Severus said, obviously trying to phrase the statement carefully.

"You mean your poisons and questionable Dark Arts ingredients and potions," Cillian said with a smirk. "I know. Don't worry."

The castle was as she remembered it, although much quieter. They were the last to disembark at the castle steps. Professor McGonagall stood in the Entrance Hall waiting for them. "Good evening, Headmaster. I trust your journey was comfortable."

"It was. Thank you, Minerva," Snape said. "Has everyone arrived?"

"Yes, everyone except the Carrows. I do believe they said they would be Apparating to the gates before dinner so we expect them at any moment. Their luggage has already been placed in their rooms," she said, her posture stiff and her manner formal. "Mr. Gwynek, I'll be happy to show you to your rooms."

"He's staying in my old rooms, Minerva. He knows the way," Snape said with an amiable smile.

Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione briefly with a thin pursing of her lips before she addressed Snape again. "And Miss Granger?"

"Mrs. Snape will be in mine," Snape replied stiffly.

Hermione was a little surprise by the news. "What?" she asked, turning to him.

"Surely..." Professor McGonagall started to say before Snape cut her off.

"Surely what? You were informed of the arrangement. I haven't changed my mind," he replied smoothly. "She will be attending classes like the other students in seventh year and eating at the Gryffindor house table. However, she is my wife and will be staying with me."

Professor McGonagall recovered and straightened her posture to her full height. "Yes, sir," she replied, but Hermione knew she was anything but pleased.

"I will be taking Hermione up to the Headmaster's tower now to see that she is settled, and then we shall join you for dinner. I do believe you wanted to speak to her, Minerva, but you may do so tomorrow, if that's acceptable," Snape said, keeping an edge of authority in his voice. "Hermione, come with me. Cillian, I'll see you at dinner." He nodded to his friend and quickly turned on his heel.

Hermione had to hurry up to catch up to him. "Weren't you a bit harsh with her?"

"No, I was authoritative," he said briskly.

"You were curt," she snapped back.

"Mind your place," he said softly, but with a hint of warning.

Hermione took the hint and looked away. "Yes, sir."

Snape stopped at the entrance of the Headmaster's office. "Digitalis purpurea," he said and walked up the spiral staircase after the stone gargoyle jumped out of his way.

Hermione followed after him and into the Headmaster's office. It looked the same as she remembered it, the only difference being the large portrait of Dumbledore sitting behind the Headmaster's desk and a large dark owl sitting on the perch Fawkes had used. "You can have a chat later," Snape said as he guided her up the stairs at the back of the office, up past a sitting room and finally into a bedroom. The room held a large bed in dark, midnight blue drapes an old well-padded chair and a large double wardrobe. Her trunk was sitting next to the bed, and Peren was already putting her things away. Snape turned to her and crossed his arms. "We go down for dinner in fifteen minutes. I'll be in the office. Come down when you are ready."

"Yes, sir," she replied, sinking into the chair.

He stood a moment watching her. "If you need anything, ask me."

"I will," she said. "Am I to have no contact with my friends?"

Snape smiled. "You'll have contact with those who are returning to school. I don't think either Potter or Weasley will be returning, but there will be students you know. And for obvious reasons, some of your contact will be limited and monitored. It won't be too bad; you'll see. Now get unpacked and come down to the office."

She sighed as he turned and left the room.

The Great Hall was the same as always, just quite a bit less people. The house tables had been moved to the side, leaving only one table down the center of the room. The professors were already were sitting at the far end, and each looked up as Snape and Hermione entered, four of them openly scowling at her. Cillian met them at the door, and Snape carefully guided Hermione so that she was sitting next to himself and Professor Sprout, with Cillian and Professor Flitwick across from her. There was little chatter during dinner. Most of the conversations having to do with school lists, supplies and budget concerns and items that hadn't arrived yet. Hermione found herself eating quickly as she listened, not really ready to engage in conversation. After dinner, Snape asked that any lists of missing or undelivered supplies be brought to his office and he dismissed himself, indicating that Hermione follow him.

Back in the office, he sat down at his desk and began writing. "I have some things that need addressing before the students arrive tomorrow," he said, dipping his quill in the ink and continuing with his letter. "A word of caution. The Dark Lord has control of the school. He will be getting reports on your behavior. Please do not do anything that puts you in any problems with the staff. I don't want to have to punish you."

"You mean don't do anything that would attract the Death Eaters' attention," she said with a sigh.

"Precisely."

Hermione nodded. "I will try. I'm going up to the room and read before bed."

"I'll be up late. I've a lot to do yet," he said, rising. He walked over to her and reached out to cup her face. "I will do what I can to make this bearable; please do the same."

"I'll try," she said before he pulled her closer to him.

"I hope you'll do more than try," he said and kissed her.

Hermione was finishing Snape's book, Of Pride and Prejudice in the sitting room, when she realized he was standing over her. He looked at her intently and then leaned down to lower his head closer to hers. Hermione's breath stilled as his lips hovered over hers, barely touching them. "I thought you'd be in bed," he said softly. The next heartbeat their lips touched, the kiss becoming stronger, firmer as he pulled her to him out of her chair and she leaned forward, suddenly realizing she was on her toes. Hermione nearly fell, and Snape held her firmly as she regained her footing, the book utterly forgotten.

When he broke their kiss, his dark eyes met hers with the same intensity as their wedding night. "It's late – you should be asleep," he said softly. She simply nodded as he guided her up to their bedroom. She stood transfixed as he dropped his coat and waistcoat on the chair, the focus of his dark eyes never once leaving hers. "I want you," he said. "Let me, Hermione."

His directness made her shudder. "You do?" she asked, fully aware of what his answer would be.

"Yes." He moved over to her and held her firmly in an embrace. "Tell me," he said, his lips brushing her ear, his rich, silky voice full of desire. "I want to hear you say it."

His words sent a shiver of fear down her spine, which dissipated when she felt his stiff penis press against her and the warm caress of his hands. "Tell you what?" she asked, her mind swirling as she inhaled his scent and held onto his body.

"I want to know if you'll let me, if you want me." His hands began to slide down her, firm and strong, pressing their bodies even closer until her groin was crushed against his, his lips just barely brushing hers. "Tell me," he said, so soft and deep it sent shivers through her, his choice of words intensifying the confusion in her mind.

She tried to lift up to kiss him, to push away any thought except of Severus's kiss from her thoughts, but his grip on her hips held her firm, keeping his mouth out of her reach, and she whimpered softly. "Please," she pleaded, sinking back onto her feet. Hermione looked up at him imploringly.

"Please, what?" he asked. "I need to hear you say it."

He was radiating his desire for her, the nearness of his mouth in contrast to his tight embrace was so arousing to her. "Yes, I want you too," she said, straining again to kiss him. His lips met hers as soon as she spoke, tender and soft, as he maneuvered her toward the bed. He stopped long enough to remove his shirt, and he kicked off his boots before reaching out for her, pulling her dress up, his fingertips gliding on her skin sensually as he disrobed her. He unfastened his trousers, letting them fall and pulled her into his arms.

His fingers explored her as they kissed. His every motion was slow and deliberate, arousing her desire and increasing the need she felt for him. Hermione tried to mimic him, exploring his body with her hands, but he merely chuckled against her skin. He stopped only long enough to pick her up and lay her on the bed before joining her, pulling her under him, and parted her legs with his knees. "Who would have thought you would ever want me?" he asked against her breast, sucking and nipping at her nipple, his hands seemingly exploring every inch of her from neck to knees and back.

"I could say the same," she said between moans as he shifted to the other breast. "You could barely tolerate me before."

"Oh, I could tolerate you," he said, his mouth trailing up to her collarbone. "I just didn't want to."

"And what changed your mind?" she asked, not caring what his answer would be as long as he kept doing that with his tongue.

"You were given to me as a gift," he said with a deep chuckle that made vibrations against her neck. "The most unusual gift I have ever received."

His hand found her folds and parted them, his finger sliding over her clitoris. "So now you find me bearable?" she asked between gasps as sensations shot through her.

"Yes, much more bearable," he said. He pushed himself up to look at her face and eased his penis into her.

Hermione held her breath as he filled her, closing her eyes at the pleasure of what he felt like sliding inside her. "Oh gods, you feel good," she groaned, opening her eyes to meet his gaze, only then realizing he'd been watching her.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, smiling and withdrew back, nearly coming out of her.

"No, please," she gasped. "Don't." He laughed softly as he pushed into her slowly, repeating the move several times, watching her face. Her lip quivered, her body arched to meet him on each thrust. She grasped his hips to pull him to her, but he persisted in his with his deliberate long strokes. "Please," she begged.

"Please, what?" he said, enunciating each word slowly.

She gasped, trying to thrust her groin up into each stroke. He nearly withdrew, holding himself still, then pushed into her slowly. "Oh, my... harder," she gasped, clenching down on him.

"As you wish," he said, increasing his pace slightly, caressing her breast. She tried to touch him, caressing his arms and torso wherever her fingers could reach. His hands glided on her skin as he moved, his pace gradually became faster, harder. "Merlin, girl, I can't hold back any longer," he groaned, grinding his groin against hers with each thrust.

Hermione couldn't respond except in gasps as her climax built up inside her each time his groin pressed into hers. She grabbed onto him, trying to match his rhythm, to keep pace, and he gripped her hips as he pounded into her. It was too much, and her body began to spasm as the pressure of her climax seemed to fill her. Suddenly, she felt it turn and roll, pouring through her, and she cried out nearly in tears, "Oh-my, Seve-oh, my, gods, Severus, oh... yes..."

He grunted her name, burying himself inside her as her climax ebbed, and he fell on her, barely holding himself up enough from crushing her. He was sweaty, his hair covered his face against her shoulder. He was shaking as if cold, and she tried rubbing his back to warm him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, I'm okay. No, I'm not cold," he said, lifting up and falling beside her. "Why would you ask me that?"

"You're shaking," she said, wiping at the sweat on his forehead.

He rolled onto his side and stared at her. "Merlin, girl, you ask some of the strangest questions," he replied, smiling. He pulled her to him and cradled her in his arms. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

He lifted up to look at her, his expression curious. "I... Am I your first lover?"

"Why do you ask?" She knew she was blushing, she could feel her cheeks burn under his intense stare. "Did I do something wrong?"

He laughed and kissed her. "No, you did everything right." He pulled the blankets up to cover them and then pulled her into his arms again. Within minutes, he was asleep. Hermione lay there, listening to him breathe, feeling warm and safe in his arms before sleep found her as well.

Author's Notes:

I want to express my gratitude to Southern_Witch_69 for her help and the effort and support she gave me on this story. And to Cocoachristy for helping me clean up my mess and making this story presentable. Thank you both very much. I appreciate it more than they could possibly know.