Vows

Chapter 14 Released

Hermione knew of only one place he could have hidden his book or books of dark magic, in his bedchamber. She got a cold chill thinking of it and she got sick thinking she was walking into his nest, knowing it to be a trap. She had to be strong and show him no fear or the darkness, his darkness, would seize her and she’d be lost.

Hermione lifted her chin higher to assert herself then she turned and made her way to the archbishop’s chambers. She knew that the rooms occupied by the more exalted prelates were on the top floor.

Hermione climbed the stairs, ignoring the priests and nuns she passed. She reached the third floor and looked around the first room she came to but it was a library, the next, was a washroom.
The next door she pushed open revealed a dark green room, the walls decorated with tapestries and the velvet fabrics of the furnishings were all dark green, with a cold shining silver high light here and there.

The air in the room was stale and musty. She looked over the many bookshelves to see what would catch her eye. Nothing. Bibles and the teachings of the prophets and saints.

She thought for moment. He couldn’t chance it being found in plain sight.
Hermione examined the walls, looking for a hidden shelf or secret compartment.

The young witch felt eyes on her and turned to see the archbishop behind her, watching her. A small smile of conquest flickered across his face as he turned to close and bolt the door.

She ran her fingers along the detailed molding; feeling for a latch, a notch, something to give her a hint.

The archbishop leaned up against the door and purred,
“Looking for something?”

She didn’t answer him, she just keep looking. Finding nothing still she looked under his bed and found only blankets and sheets in the drawers.

Hermione went to his closet and looked at the walls behind the hanging clothes. She found a wood panel that had some give to it and pushed hard. When it gave way, she tripped over the bottom border panel into cold darkness.

Hermione’s hands and knees hit cold stone floor. The air was damp, dank and molding.
Behind her came a light and his voice called out cheerfully;
“Well it looks like you’ve found me out.”

The archbishop stepped over her and waved his wand. The candles on the walls and the chandelier lit themselves and showed Hermione a chamber with an alter, a table stained with blood, a throne like chair and bottles of dry and liquid ingredients and books. Rags were scattered here and there about the small room.

Hermione rose from the floor and started looking for any book that might give her the spell or rather tell her how to undo the spell.

Snape sat in the chair watching her, not trying to stop her in any way.

She looked at the first shelf where she saw. ‘Secrets of the Arts’ ‘Spells’ ‘Potions’, and ‘Ruling the Dark Arts’ and some titles she couldn’t read, they were so old.

She opened one book and looked at the pages. Searched for a binding or bonding spell or something on enslavement.. imprisoning the body.

It could be called so many things. Page after page, book after book, Hermione hunted for something that would give her a clue to what potion, what spell this mad man could have used to take over her life.

Books were on the floor and the table. Snape just kept watching, smiling and seemed to be amused by all her examination of the books.

Hours went by, but finally a Life Joining spell seemed to call out to her.
It was a two person flesh exchange, becoming one body and one soul. For one who may be dying or just wants to take someone’s life force, slowly, into theirs.

To undo the spell it simply took the removal of the skin, and its return, back where one got it. But this was dark magic and not so simple. The skin had to be removed with blood from the person who was taking it. Simply put, Hermione had to cut herself before; have the blood on the knife or wand to remove her skin from the Archbishop’s body and vise versa.
And the incantation to be said was,
‘Scindo viscus.’ and then to reattach ‘Vigoratus viscus.’

If this is not done, the wound doesn’t heal and you eventually would die.

Hermione looked for a something sharp to cut out the skin.
There was a letter opener on the floor and a few bottles that if she had to, would break.

But would the archbishop be willing to give up her skin and take back his.

Snape was sitting in his ornate chair, his black eyes roaming over her.

Hermione looked back in the book and read all about how to do the spell, but it said nothing about the spell being harmful to an unborn child.

She had to remove his skin, she couldn’t live like this, seeing Snape’s face on Harry’s body.

She wondered then where he was .. the lot of them. Surely Harry Remus and Sirius would be looking for her. The chamber had no windows, there was no sign of what time of day it was.

Hermione looked at the man sitting there watching her, as though he was assessing her. A superior expression was on his face. He believed he had won, being older and more experience with magic than her.

She had a sinking feeling she should have snuck into his chamber late at night and surprised him. He must have sensed her concern because the next instant the panel closed and he stood up. She was trapped now.

“Now what shall we do, now that you found out what to do and how to do it?” he asked her.

“I want you to reverse the spell, give me my flesh back.” She said as fiercely as she could muster.

“ And what do I get?” He whined.

“I don’t call you out. Shout out that you are an evil wizard. Tell them of your mark.”

He laughed and walked up to her, stroking her cheek,
“Do you think they will listen to you? A fallen nun? A witch. Married to a pirate. They will lock you up or hang you.”

“What do you want?” Hermione pulled her face away from his hand.

“You, submitting, in here and then in my bed,” he told her bluntly.

Hermione swallowed hard, and looked around. Blood spatters were on the table and on the floor.

“Do you intend on whipping me and then bedding me?”

“Whipping, caning or just cutting you ever so slightly,” his hands reaching for her shoulders this time.
“Enough to feel the pain but do no real damage. After all I’m not a cruel man, although I do get caught up in the rituals at times.” Squeezing her shoulders and then moving in back of her touching her spine, caressing the back of her neck, walking around her.
“I expect too much sometimes. The worst that happens is that you might pass out.”

He leaned into her ear, his hot breath like a stifling sewage, to breath into her lungs, making her feel boxed in, he whispered,
“Each drop of blood, a drop of life you surrender to me, I’ll give you the beginning of life, pleasure mingled with pain. Purity mixed with corruption. Lust with revulsion. Love fused with hate.”

“I can’t. I won’t. I love my husband and I will not betray him with you,” Hermione spat out.

“Yes, think of him, of his face. You will not see his face, for a very long time.”

She thought it was fruitless and stupid to ask but she spoke,
“Ask for something else.”

Snape caressed his chin with his hands and walked away from her,
“Perhaps there is something else we can arrange.”

“Ask it,” Hermione said.
“And it will be granted?” Snape queried.
“We’ll see.. What is it?” Hermione asked.

“Just a small thing, the tiniest piece of you.”

“You have my flesh already,” wondering what he wanted now.

“But not this. Agree to my bargain and I will remove my flesh from you and give you back yours.”

“What tiny piece of me do you want?” Hermione asked.

“I won’t take it now. In fact I won’t claim it for years. If I claim it at all,” he informed her.

“Claim what?” she asked. What tiny thing could he want from her? A piece of her heart, her soul, her mind? What was he up to?’

“Just agree and be done with it, you silly girl,” the Archbishop growled losing patience with her.

“I will not agree to anything until I know exactly what it is you want,” she explained.

“Just agree and I will give you your flesh back,” he hummed trying to smile at her.

“No.” she said, shaking her head, “I need to know precisely what you want.”

He stepped in front of her, “Fine, look at this face now and this is what you will see for the rest of your life with that boy you married.”

He turned and started to sit in the chair. If it was so important to him to get something from her, it was most likely vital to her.

“Just tell me what it is you want, unless it is something I can’t live without,” Hermione reasoned.

“Oh, a great many people live without this and many want to rid themselves of it too,” he said, sitting down.

“We are at a standstill until you name it,” Hermione said wondering why he wasn’t revealing his request.

“Oh, I was so hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I can make you agree to the bargain, if you want to get out of here … alive. He got up and started towards her.

“What … How?” She asked but she knew already Harry told her once that he could control her with a spell, make her do anything he wanted even kill herself.

“Let’s see, I could put a spell on you, enchant you, make you drink a potion or just torture you until you give in.”

“You wouldn’t. Not if you want something from me.”

“The torture alone would suit me well enough. No one knows you’re here and this room is well hidden from the rest of the people here. I could keep you here for a very, very long time.”

The archbishop reached out and touched Hermione’s belly,
“And the child you carry would be mine; if a boy my apprentice. If a girl, when she is old enough, my sex slave.”

He turned and walked back to the chair pulling from behind the seat a riding crop, smiling, glowing with anticipation of his victory over her.

Hermione knew she had few choices; one run to the locked panel and shout for help, she knew that would do nothing but amuse him.
Two, beg for mercy, but she knew he would not give it, and she would be whipped to death or into submission. Or three, slavery, give him total control over her and her unborn child … and she snapped …

She didn’t think, she just ran up to him in a rage of anger and self-preservation for herself and the child she held in her body. She grabbed the whip out of his hand, so fast he didn’t have time to respond.

She ripped his crucifix from his neck the next second and pressed the center of it so the blade slid out.

Hermione thrust the blade into his throat … thinking what he wanted to do, to her and her unborn child. He made a hissing sound as he dropped to his knees, his eyes open wide in anger and surprise. Hermione felt a burning, searing sensation on her back and she cried out in agony.
There were echoes, other girls screaming, as if they were nearby or was it an echo in the small room or was it all in her mind.

They too were bound to him and now his life was pouring out of his body as his blood was or was it her child crying out to her.

The pain pulsed. Slowly fading as his life was fading. Hermione felt cold as she watched the man in front of her. His black eyes were opened wide in shock and confusion. His mouth moved, trying to curse her but he couldn’t utter a sound. He fell face down, into a pool of his own blood. He trembled briefly, then he lay still.

Hermione stood there shivering for what seemed like a few moments or was it a few hours, she could not tell.

The panel opened and a young nun peeked in.
Hermione stood in the way, so the nun couldn’t see the archbishop.

Dread was in the young girl’s eyes,
“Where is the Archbishop?” she asked.

“Why?”

“He summoned me,” she said quaking with fear as she entered the chamber.

There was another noise from the panel and another nun came, she was trembling, holding a candle in her hand, her eyes also filled with terror.

Hermione looked at the girls,
“Did he bind you too?”

The girls nodded, looking at each other.

“Do not be afraid,” and she stepped aside, letting them see his dead body.

One gasped, the other fell to her knees crying, praying, thanking God for this miracle.

Another nun came in and screamed with fear and shock.

Hermione unbuttoned her dress and showed the first nun his mark on her back.
That nun undid her dress and showed Hermione his mark on her back too.

Six more nuns came into the chamber. They all had the same look, the look of fear, until they saw his body, dead on the floor.

They all showed each other their marks from him, one was on a thigh, another on her buttock, others on their shoulders.

Hermione turned him over on to his back and took the blade out of his neck; she opened his robes and shirt, finding her flesh and the other girl’s as well. One by one Hermione removed his flesh from the girls, reciting the spell softly, like a prayer and replacing his flesh with their own, nine girls in all.

Hermione looked at all of them,
“Are any of you witches?”

They all crossed themselves and shook their heads.
Everyone was restored but Hermione.

She took a cloth and held it to the archbishop’s throat and soaked it with blood. She then cut her hand and soaked another cloth and removed her skin from his body and wrapped it in the cloth to protect it. Hermione looked at his body and saw there were more scars, more patches of flesh that weren’t his.

“There are more, others who have been enslaved to him, bound to his flesh. Do you know of anyone else?”

The nuns shook their heads,
“No.”

“Well then I have to leave now and get help for myself.”

“Wait you are a healer, God’s gift to us.” A young sister told her.

“No I’m not. I’m a witch who bested an evil wizard who wanted to torture me and do horrid things to my unborn child.”

The nuns gasped in horror and murmured how evil the archbishop was.

Hermione felt she was running out of time,
“Someone put the archbishops blood in bottles. There are more nuns that may come to you. YOU must keep him in a cold place until all the women come forward.”

Hermione could feel his flesh getting colder, dead on her body. She had to get help soon or her flesh could pull away from the dead skin or worse begin to die too.

One of the nuns asked,
“How do we keep it cold and not have it start to stink the place up?”

“That’s easy freeze the evil bastard,” a male voice said coming for the open panel.

Hermione looked to see Remus and Harry coming through the opening.

Remus hugged her and stepped over to the archbishop’s body.

Harry embraced her tightly saying,
“We’ve been looking for you for forever. It wasn’t until we heard the scream and we followed the nuns here, but we got lost in the hidden passages.” He gave her a light kiss on the lips.


“Harry you have to spread his blood on my mark,” Hermione explained,
“To remove the flesh and put this,” she opened the bloody cloth to reveal her skin, “ in it’s place. It’s my flesh.”

Harry went a little pale and swallowed hard, murmured how disgusting it was, but he did as she asked. Saying the spells he restored his wife’s skin to her back and replaced the archbishop’s skin, back onto the archbishop.

Remus healed the wound and then froze the body, and cleaned up the blood. He didn’t look very happy about it.

“The flesh on the others wouldn’t last long, if they don’t come soon they will become ill and die. And he is the archbishop he is well known and often seen. We can’t hide the body for long,” Remus reminded her.

“We’ll just say he’s sick,” one nun said, “ and that it’s very contagious, to keep others away. And it will look like we are trying to heal him.”

“That will give us a little time. Did you put back all the skins?” Remus asked.

“Yes, but why?”

“When he is found he has to look somewhat intact.”

“We should get him into bed.” she said to Remus and Harry.
Hermione turned to the group of women in the chamber and asked,
“Do any of you know how to work with herbs and roots for healing and treating illness?” Hermione asked.

They all shook their heads, “No.”

“You do my dear,” Remus recalled, “and you were almost a nun.”