Dark Lady

Chapter 13 ~ Overstepping Boundaries

A startled Draco suddenly found himself in the throne room. He was dressed only in his boxers and had his wand in hand, but still wore Hermione's collar around his neck. He blinked at Hermione, who was seated on her throne then bowed.

"My—my Lady?" he said as a question.

"If this was to be a conjugal visit, Draco, you'd be more than ready," Hermione said, flicking a finger at him and covering him in black robes and boots. "You do have your wand with you, at least. We're in need of you."

We?

Draco looked around to see Snape seated at a desk stacked with parchments and books. The dark wizard rose and walked toward him as Hermione dismounted her throne and also approached Draco.

"I assume you know how to perform the part of the Bonder for an Unbreakable Vow, Draco?"

Draco looked from Hermione to Snape, then said, "I've never done it, but I know the procedure."

"Good. You will stand in for us," Hermione said as she and Snape faced each other and clasped hands. Draco soberly placed the tip of his wand against their joined hands.

"Will you, Severus Snape, protect me, Hermione Granger from all harm, magical and non-magical?" Hermione asked Snape.

"I will," Snape replied.

A single strand of liquid fire poured from the tip of Draco's wand and winded around their hands. It didn't burn, however.

"Will you willingly place yourself in harm's way to protect me, Hermione Granger, even under the threat of your own death?" Hermione continued.

"I will," Snape responded as a second strand of fire entwined around their clasped hands.

"Will you keep this Unbreakable Vow to me, Hermione Granger, until the end of your days?"

Snape's dark eyes met Hermione's soberly as his hand twitched slightly within her grasp.

"I will," he breathed.

A third strand wrapped about their digits then all three erupted into a fiery glow, which then sunk into their flesh. The spell was complete. Draco slowly drew his wand away, his eyes resting on Hermione.

"I would protect you too," he said to the witch softly. "I'm willing to take the vow for you, my Lady. Let me."

Hermione released Snape's hand and looked at Draco, surprised.

"Why, Draco. Don't tell me you've developed a taste for me!" she exclaimed as Snape looked on, interested.

Draco reddened in front of the wizard. He didn't know if Snape had any idea of the twisted acts Hermione performed on him and made him perform on her.

"Well, I am the closest to you," he said sullenly. "We are on intimate terms."

Hermione laughed and Draco visibly wilted at the scorn in her laughter.

"Draco, you are not my boyfriend, you're my plaything. There's a big difference."

Draco looked so miserable, Hermione averted her eyes so she wouldn't feel sorry for him. She just couldn't bring herself to blast him for evoking emotions in her. Instead she said, "Draco, only one person can make an Unbreakable Vow to another, because if two people take the same vow and only one person fulfills it, the other will die instantly because he did not."

"Still, it should have been me. Snape's nothing to you," he said, pouting.

Hermione growled in exasperation.

"Go back to the Manor!" she hissed, flicking a finger at him before he could protest.

Snape looked at Hermione, his lip quirking.

"It seems Draco is quite smitten with you," he observed.

"I have no idea why. I treat him like dirt," Hermione hissed.

"That could be precisely why. He's used to being treated like gold," the Potions master said.

"He's just entertainment. I'm tiring of him anyway," Hermione said as she walked back to her throne and sat down. She looked at Snape consideringly.

"As a matter of fact, I've been considering broadening my sexual horizons," the witch purred, eyeing Snape in an unmistakable manner. He blinked back at her. Suddenly, he felt a slight weight on his throat. He pulled his robes away from his neck and felt the collar that had appeared there. He looked up at Hermione.

"It's scarlet and gold, in case you're wondering," she said with a crooked smile. "Welcome to my stable."

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One would think that a monk in a cowl walking with a staff would be quite noticeable in Muggle London, but Optun Mooreshead didn't attract nearly as much attention as he should have as he walked the avenues. That's because you could expect to see practically anything in London if you looked long enough. Actually, Optun wasn't as interesting as a lot of people. Londoners were an eclectic mix, after all.

Optun was at a bit of a disadvantage. He couldn't identify witches and wizards based on the odd way they dressed, because almost everyone seemed to dress oddly as far as he was concerned. He was convinced this was a mostly evil place, especially when he saw so many Goths and people with piercings, body art and blackened mouths.

He had become so attuned to the staff that he no longer had to uncover it for it to direct him. He would just stretch it out before him and it would tug him in the proper direction. Sometimes it even swerved without him addressing it. Now it was leading him down a street called Charing Cross Road. The staff swerved strongly toward a little pub.

Optun read the sign.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

Frowning he walked inside. It was a tiny, grubby little inn, but crowded. The monk stared at the group of individuals gathered about drinking, chatting and playing cards. Drinks flew through the air to land on tables, wands lit pipes. Robes and pointed hats abounded and one or two people carried brooms.

"A wicked place," Optun hissed.

"Oi. I haven't seen a wizard with a staff in ages," an elderly wizard said to Optun. The monk whirled on him.

"Wizard?"

"Well, what else am I to call you?" the old man said with a toothless smile.

Optun whipped out his large brass crucifix, holding it toward the wizard, who blinked at it.

"Nice piece," the wizard said. "Very ornate. Are you selling that?"

Optun blinked, unable to believe that it had no effect on the minion of evil. No one else seemed disturbed by it either. Frowning, he put it away.

"I'm looking for a witch named Hermione Granger," Optun said tightly.

The old man cackled.

"You and everyone else. The Daily Prophet is offering a hefty amount of money to anyone who can give them an accurate story about her. There are rumors of course—"

"What kind of rumors?" Optun hissed at him.

"Well, come join me at a table and I'll tell you," the old wizard said, walking towards the back of the pub. Optun frowned around him, then stiffly followed.

Because of Hermione's signature on his staff, no one recognized him as a Muggle. He sat down, his face twisted in distaste at being among so many damned souls.

The old wizard ordered two Firewhiskys, and they floated to the table magically. Optun stared at the glass in front of him as if it were filled with poison.

"Drink up," the wizard said, tossing his back.

"I don't drink. Tell me about Hermione Granger," Optun hissed. He thought about his blessed blade but there were far too many people here for him to kill single-handedly. Besides, he already had a target for his thirsty short sword.

He just had to find her.

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"So, I get no say in the matter?" Snape asked Hermione silkily. Ooh, she loved the sound of his voice. It seemed he'd purposely made it sound even sexier when he addressed her.

"Actually, no, you don't," Hermione replied. "You are my servant and I've had my eye on you since day one. But, you had work to do—so I bided my time. Besides, don't you feel you deserve more than a mere 'thank you,' for taking an Unbreakable Vow for me?"

"If I had a choice in the matter, yes. But I didn't. It was either the vow or death. I prefer to keep breathing," Snape replied. "If you would really like to thank me, Hermione, you could allow me the dignity of at least wearing my own house colors around my neck. I find Gryffindor colors, distasteful."

Hermione considered this. Snape was in a different league than Draco. She liked owning the pureblood and wearing her house colors was meant to add insult to injury. But she had no desire to bring Snape down any notches. His dignity was part of what made him so appealing. She wanted him—willing.

"Very well," she said, changing the collar to green and silver. "It's done."

"Thank you," the Potions master said, then he walked back over to the desk and sat down, Hermione frowning at him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him.

Snape looked at her calmly.

"You stated you brought me here to assign these duties to the Death Eaters. I presume you'd like me to get right to work on this," he said to her.

Hermione snorted.

"Business before pleasure?" she asked him, her eyes glowing slightly.

"Always," Snape replied. "Then one can go at their pleasure with a clear conscience."

"I have no conscience," Hermione hissed.

"Well, I do. And this is quite important."

Snape knew he was pressing his luck speaking to Hermione in such a manner. She was the one in charge, and might show him that in a very physical manner.

But she didn't.

"Very well. Do the assignments, but don't take all day," she snapped at him.

It was a small victory for the wizard. Maybe he'd be able to manipulate her emotions after all. It was clear she was worried about her powers. She wouldn't have asked him to protect her if she was at full throttle. Her soul had to be growing.

Snape began leafing through the folders again, putting himself to the task.

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Four hours later, Snape closed the last folder and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had successfully assigned each Death Eater a proper life-long reparation. He looked at Hermione.

"Would you like to go over these?" he asked her.

"No, I wouldn't," she said softly. "Approach my throne, Severus Snape."

Snape rose and approached Hermione's throne, stopping a few feet away. Hermione rose and walked up to him.

"Lean down," she said.

Snape obliged her. Once again she ran her hand over his large, hooked nose.

"Does your nose live up to the rest of you," she asked him as he straightened.

"I think you could see for yourself, if you were so inclined," Snape responded.

"I could, but, I'm hoping to be pleasantly surprised, although size is no guarantee of—skill," the witch said, smoothing her hand over Snape's jaw line, which tightened reflexively.

"I've never had any complaints when I've indulged," he responded softly.

"So tell me, does this service rankle you, Severus? Do you feel any resentment at my wishing to use you in such a manner?"

"I am in your service," Snape purred back at her. "I've been given worse assignments under both Albus and Voldemort."

Hermione laughed, then said, "It doesn't have to be terrible, you know. I can appear as anything or anyone—"

Hermione looked into Snape's mind and latched on to an image. Suddenly she changed, and Snape's eyes widened, then he stumbled back from her, his eyes full of pain.

"NO!" he rasped. "No! Not her! Stop it!"

Hermione stared at him with her green eyes, shocked at his reaction.

"It's someone from your past, someone you cared for but never had—I was only trying to show you—"

"NO! For gods' sake, stop it! I—I can't bear it. Take it away!"

Snape covered his eyes with his hand, trembling in reaction to the image of Lily Evans-Potter that stood before him. Hermione changed back.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said softly.

Snape looked at her, his eyes hard.

"You had no right to do that! No right to pull up her memory!"

Hermione had no idea of Snape's unrequited love for Lily Potter, Harry's mother. He'd gotten over it but seeing her in the flesh brought up old feelings, feelings he no longer wanted to experience.

"It was meant to be a fantasy—"

"No, a nightmare! I can't do this now, Hermione. Let me go."

Hermione stared at him, torn. It was what she wanted that mattered, not what he wanted.

"I could compel you," she hissed.

"You'd have to, and you'd continue to have to do it every time you engaged me if you force me now," he hissed back at her. "I need to recover from this, Hermione. Let me go back to Hogwarts."

Hermione scowled at him.

"GO THEN!" she snarled, Snape disappearing in a burst of flame and brimstone.

Then Hermione set about blasting her throne room to rubble in frustration.

Who was that woman? And why had he reacted to her the way he did?

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Snape found himself in his quarters, surrounded by black smoke. He wasted no time making himself a large Firewhisky and plopping down in front of the fireplace. He quickly drank it down, rasping as the burn coursed down his throat and stared into the flames.

Seeing Lily had brought back memories, memories of not only how she had abandoned him, but how he had failed her when her son Harry had been killed. Once again, guilt rose in his heart.

He stared into the flames, his black eyes glistening with remorse.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.