The Unfortunates

Yes yes, I know it - I am an evil one. Delayed every bloody week! What\'s the deal with that?! Well, you\'ll have to forgive me; writer\'s block added with a thousand things to do and all that has left me in quite a state...! ;) Always loads to do come springtime for us who study, right? Anyway, enough blabber. Hopefully you\'ll like this:

---


CHAPTER SIXTEEN: BEYOND PROFESSOR SNAPE AND MISS GRANGER


Draco couldn’t believe his luck.

Of course he felt he deserved it. He deserved everything he got, undoubtedly, but this... Well, he’d been so afraid Mira had been lost to him forever. This stupid Granger fellow (what was that man’s relation to the Mudblood!) would surely have kept her captive forever, had not the fates let her flee from his house as by sheer fortune.

Now, however, Draco was certain he had her.

Yes, he’d agreed for her to officially resign at Lilly’s (despite Barrette’s loud protests). Yes, he’d agreed to accompany her to the Ministry to sign out a residence form saying she was officially living at the Manor now and yes, he’d without a question allowed her to bring her wand, never once doubting her intentions – at least not out loud.

But of course he was suspicious. It was only in his nature, after all; he was a Malfoy, and a Slytherin to boot; as such he’d been taught all his life never to let his guard down. Whenever someone gave him something, he’d expect they were hinting for something in return, or plotting something worse altogether. People rarely ever did anything out of the goodness of their hearts.

Hm. Perhaps Mira did, though, who knew?

As had been expected, Draco’s Mother had not been pleased to learn the house elves would be getting a new boss. Though one could easily suspect it was not the prospect of them having a boss that bothered her, but rather the nature of said boss: A young, beautiful girl who seemed to have sent Narcissa’s only son into a weird state of trance whenever close to the wench.

Mira had been given a room next to the kitchens in the basement. This had been Narcissa’s idea; she’d easily won the argument by saying that someone in charge of the house elves surely had to live close to where most of those were around. Neither Draco nor his Father could object to this, though they both silently wanted to. Having to venture down to the basement every time he wanted to see Mira was not a thought Draco enjoyed, but he supposed he had no choice.

Considering Narcissa’s grudge, it was actually surprising how much freedom she agreed to give the newcomer – Mira was free to venture wherever she wanted in the Manor, as long as she kept away from the private rooms, the halls and, obviously, the guests. Basically she could go where she wanted as long as she did not get in the way.

Of course, Draco knew his Mother wouldn’t let her off that easily – but there was nothing he could do about this. The unavoidable confrontations would come, and poor Mira would have no choice but to face them. Undoubtedly Narcissa was eagerly awaiting any chance she could get to humiliate the girl...

Oh, well. Not my problem.

As it were, Draco was happily making his way down to Mira’s rooms that same evening, eager to make up for lost time. He reached the little door to the left of the kitchens, opened without knocking and stepped right in.

Mira was sitting by the small desk she’d been given, sipping lightly from a glass in her hands. It looked like water. Her gaze was absent.

“Everything satisfactory, then?” said Draco, for a moment wondering whether or not she was happy with the new arrangements – it was strange, really; he had never bothered to ask people such questions in the past.

She gave him a faint smile, standing to greet him.

“It’s fine,” she said sincerely.

Her room wasn’t all that grand, but it wasn’t too far off from the one she’d had at Barrette’s either – it was fairly large, had a wardrobe, a desk and a large bed and was directly linked to the kitchens, so she could have whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. In addition, she’d been given her own, private bathroom.

Strange as it may sound, Draco was determined to make sure she wasn’t unhappy.

“I was wondering,” began Mira, “when I’d be informed about my – well, my duties? You said there wasn’t much to do, but I’m sure –”

“Mira,” interrupted Draco, stepping up to her, “what are you on about? Don’t worry, you needn’t do anything. You’re just a guest here, really. Vacation, right?” He winked.

“You said –”

“Forget what I said! I just needed a reason to serve to Mother. You’re here for me, after all, aren’t you?” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if daring her to suggest anything else.

She hesitated – though only for a moment – before answering.

“Of course I am,” she smiled.

“Good,” Draco smirked. “Because I thought we could make up for lost time...”

And with that, he quickly caught her in his embrace and walked her over to the bed, pushing them both down on the soft mattress.

---

Hermione quickly found her life in Malfoy Manor took some getting used to.

For the first couple of days she spent her time mostly adjusting to her new life. She was free to walk about the house, as long as she didn’t get in anybody’s way and, quite frankly, as long as she in fact looked like a part of the household staff.

The idea of having a human working for a pureblood family wasn’t particularly normal, but no one in the Manor seemed to be bothered by this. It seemed the house elves of the Malfoys really did need someone to look after them.

Hermione had befriended some of the elves quite easily, though some others did not appreciate her presence there at all – apparently they saw it as a personal insult that she had been brought there to watch over them, though this wasn’t even really the case.

Hermione had been worrying, when she’d first come to the Manor, about how to maintain her concealment charms without being caught. But as she’d been given her very own room far away from Draco’s, she’d found this wasn’t so much of a problem after all. Her charms lasted long; she was a gifted witch, and as long as she remembered to refresh them every tenth hour or so – in good time – she decided she would be fine.

Draco had been unbearable.

He’d been at her door very frequently, sometimes with only hours in between, and he never left any room for argument. After all, “Mira” was there for a reason, and Draco fully took advantage of that.

It wasn’t until Hermione’s third day at the Manor, though, that she found herself really regretting having agreed to this.

It was early in the morning, and she’d only just left the kitchen after having breakfast with the elves when somebody was at her door. And it wasn’t Draco.

It was Mr. Malfoy. And he did not look happy.

“Mr. Malfoy?” she said, startled at his sudden appearance.

He didn’t bother replying, but in stead made his way into her room and slammed the door shut behind him. Without so much as a word he approached Hermione, grasped her around the waist and threw her on the bed. He pounced on her, pinning her hard to the bed and immediately capturing her lips in a demanding kiss she struggled to keep up with.

His hands roamed her body, pinching and grasping so hard Hermione had to struggle not to squeal into his mouth at the pain. After a moment his lips left hers and moved to her neck, biting eagerly. In between bites Hermione thought she could hear him whisper things like, “uptight bitch” and “ungrateful”. It sounded as though he was talking about his wife.

Mr. Malfoy’s hands left her hips and suddenly, without warning, tore her blouse open with one hand while the other violently pushed up her skirt as he positioned himself above her, fumbling madly with his trousers. Hermione had never before wanted to scream as much as she did now; his hands and actions were unbearable. The intensity, the total lack of care for her being... She was really just a toy; a thing; just something that allowed him to express his aggression.

He was ten times worse than his son.

Then, just as he was about to push into her, his hands grasping painfully at her hips, a voice sounded from outside the room:

“Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, Sir, Nibby is needing to speak to you, Sir!”

“Piss off!” barked Mr. Malfoy furiously in return, his head bending quickly to kiss and bite down, hard, at Hermione’s lower lip. The passion seemed to have relieved him of any kind of rational thinking.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy, Sir!” insisted the voice of the house elf from outside the door. “It’s urgent! Master in the dungeons is being very troublesome!”

At the mention of “the master in the dungeons”, common sense at last seemed to penetrate Mr. Malfoy’s lust-clouded mind. He swore, loudly, pushed himself off of Hermione and quickly fixed his clothing before pulling the door open, not caring at all that Hermione was still lying exposed on the bed.

“What is it Claud wants this time?” exclaimed Mr. Malfoy angrily, almost to himself, as he pushed his way past the little Nibby in rage, making his way off to what undoubtedly was the dungeons.

Nibby cast a worried glance in Hermione’s direction. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he silently closed the door to her room, leaving her to her solitude.

It took six whole minutes before Hermione even managed to move.

The entire – what to call it? attack? – had completely taken her by surprise. Mr. Malfoy had been difficult to deal with before, but never like this... Gods; no one had ever before so easily confirmed the theory that Hermione was just an object of their enjoyment, not worthy of even being considered as a human being. He had been furious, enraged, and he’d come down there only to deliberately take it out on her.

And what was it Malfoy had spoken of? Claud, had he said, in the dungeons...?

Hermione had heard talk of the master resident in the dungeons before; it was a known fact in the Malfoy Manor that someone lived in the dungeons. Hermione hadn’t thought much of it before, but now, at hearing his name, it was blatantly obvious she should have.

Because obviously, the man in the dungeons was the foreigner. The mysterious “Claud A-something”.

It had to be Claud the potions brewer, who was working on the Wizard’s Chase (whatever that was) and, apparently, was being kept out of people’s sight in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Hermione immediately reached for her pendant.

About fifteen minutes later, after having finally managed to dodge both family members and elves, she was sneaking her way up to the ground floor, walking on tiptoe towards the lounge where she knew a fireplace could be located. Thanking the gods no one was about as she entered the room, she quickly rushed over to the hearth and grasped a handful of Floo powder before stepping in, speaking in a clear and loud voice the words, “The Leaky Cauldron, London”.

---

Severus was tapping his fingers across the table in The Shrieking Shack’s old drawing room by the time the door flew open and Miss Granger rushed in, panting and slightly pink in the face.

“You’re late,” he stated simply, not bothering to get up to greet her.

“Am I really?” Miss Granger snapped, glaring at him as she struggled to catch her breath. She stepped further into the room. “I’m terribly sorry, Professor, but the fact of the matter is that I am currently the plaything of the Malfoy family, and a commitment such as that is sometimes challenging to get out of. Or did you forget?”

“I did not forget,” replied Severus with ease. He refused to rise to the bait; she was only trying to aggravate him, obviously. “Do you have any news for me?”

She did not answer. In stead, she backed herself up against a wall, still breathing heavily and now staring off into space without any apparent knowledge of his existence. It was getting on Severus’s nerves.

“Miss Granger?” he spat icily. “Are you still with me?”

Her gaze jumped to him. “Yes,” she said. “I am.”

“Forgive me then; you just seemed momentarily distracted. What could possibly be so interesting you forgot the real reason why you dragged me out here in this bitter cold?”

If looks could kill, Severus suspected he’d be pretty close to death by now. Miss Granger was staring at him with wild fury dancing in her eyes. It was actually a bit of an intriguing sight.

“If you’d bothered at all to ask me if I was alright, you would perhaps understand better why I need to compose myself.”

Severus sighed dramatically.

“Oh, prey tell, what now?” he asked wryly. “What has upset the little princess this time? I seem to recall Potter calling you practically invincible.”

“Well, then Harry’s wrong, isn’t he,” snapped Miss Granger.

“Go on then, Miss Granger,” said Snape, “and stop wasting my time. What has upset you now?”

She glared at him, most of her body weight still supported by the wall. “I’ve just had a rather uncomfortable encounter, actually, but I really wouldn’t expect you to understand, Professor. You said back at Lilly’s that you knew how I felt, but you don’t, really – because there is, believe it or not, a big difference between a man in this situation and a woman.”

“Oh, my,” said Severus with mock astonishment. Then he returned to his usual, snarky self. “You knew what you were facing when you agreed to this, Miss Granger.”

“Does that mean I’m no longer allowed to feel pain?” she asked. “Or humiliation?”

“Not really,” Severus smirked, “you are just not allowed to express it to me, because I hardly care.”

Miss Granger sighed exasperatedly, her annoyance getting the better of her.

“Fine, then,” she said and pushed herself away from the wall, “I’ll just tell you what I know and go then, shall I?”

“That would be preferable, yes.”

“Very well then. You’ve fucked up, Snape,” she snapped, catching him thoroughly by surprise.

“I beg your pardon?” he said, confused despite himself.

“Remember the foreigner, Claude? The traitor that Malfoy told me about?”

“Yes...?”

“Surprise, surprise; it’s not Claude Accolade. The Frenchman you’ve got wallowing in your dungeon isn’t the potions brewer Malfoy was talking about.” Despite the seriousness of her words, Miss Granger appeared completely indifferent to the information, as though the most important thing now was to maintain her fury towards Severus, and in doing so she had to spit every word out, despite their heavy nature.

“What is this nonsense, Miss Granger?” asked Severus suspiciously. He couldn’t imagine two foreign Claude A-somethings in this farce-like concept; that just wasn’t possible.

“I heard Mr. Malfoy talk about him,” she replied. “This Claud who’s brewing potions for You-Know-Who is sitting in Malfoy’s dungeons, not Killengreen’s. And if that’s the case, I highly doubt Claude Accolade could be in two dungeons at once, don’t you agree? So you’d better release the Frenchman,” she added as an afterthought.

Severus frowned.

It wasn’t Claude Accolade? Had they been wrong all this time – Claude was no traitor; he wasn’t the potions brewer assisting in the Wizard’s Chase. It was somebody else...

“Did you catch the actual brewer’s name?” Severus asked Miss Granger.

“Only the first name, obviously,” she replied. “I’ll keep my ears peeled, though.”

Severus merely gave her an insincere smirk in reply. His mind was caught up in this Claude-business. Could it really be possible...? If the brewer wasn’t Claude Accolade, then Severus could think of only one other reasonable alternative...

But Claud Avery was dead. Severus himself had heard the order being given.

He’d heard the order... Had he seen the actual killing?

“It’s strange, though,” said Miss Granger suddenly, gazing up at the ceiling as she spoke. “Mr. Malfoy does not hide the fact that this brewer person is in his dungeons from me – or anyone else resident in the house – but whenever they’ve got guests over the subject is never mentioned. It’s as though this Claud A-something is in hiding.”

“In hiding...” mumbled Severus; he got up from his chair and stared pacing the old floor of the Shack.

Could it be possible...?

Perhaps Claud Avery had never been killed.

He was a good potions brewer – not as good as Severus, but above average still – and the gods knew Lucius had never been much of one. Now that Severus was no longer in the inner circle, and Avery was (presumably) dead, who was good enough to brew for the Dark Lord?

Severus could think of no one in particular that he knew for certain that was gifted in that area.

It just might be possible... What if Lucius hadn’t killed Avery? What if he’d offered the man his life in exchange for something else? If Miss Granger was correct and the brewer in the dungeons was a secret to outsiders, then perhaps that was because the brewer was actually supposed to be dead...

And in that case, it really was Claud Avery.

And Lucius was using him to deliver potions to the Dark Lord, presenting them as work of his own. And Avery was doing this in exchange for his life.

It was more than possible, Severus realized, it was highly probable.

Claud Avery was alive.

And Claude Accolade was no traitor.

“Professor?” said Miss Granger then. “If you’re quite finished wearing out the floor, I need to get back.”

“What?” Severus snapped out of his trance. “Ah, yes. Obviously. I suggest we use the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron as our next place of meeting. If that is for some reason not agreeable, let me know via your little pendant.”

“That works fine.”

“Now, run off, Miss Granger; I am certain Draco misses his little pet.”

Severus wasn’t looking at her, and so it took him a few minutes to realize Miss Granger hadn’t left at all, but was still in the room and staring at him as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Honestly, Miss Granger,” said Severus exasperatedly, “as you have thoroughly pointed out to me, they will wonder where you are. Now, get moving.”

She didn’t move.

“What is it?” snapped Severus at last, his patience reaching its end.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispered, malice glowing in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what hell I’m going through at that Manor? Can you even begin to imagine how humiliating and degrading it is to be living there as a personal whore to those two? And you,” she added, the volume of her voice rising, “you know these people better than anyone; you of all ought to understand! How dare you insult me like this? I’m doing twice the work you are; I’m in twice as much danger – why can’t you just behave like a normal human being!”

Severus resisted the urge to smirk. For some reason, Miss Granger’s outburst had reminded him painfully of her alter ego, Mira Gideon, as he remembered her back from before he knew her real identity. And although Hermione Granger was out of bounds, Mira Gideon however had never been.

And it was quite clear to Severus now that Miss Granger really was as fierce and exotic as Mira; it wasn’t just an act she’d put on for the prostitute’s personality. Mira was a part of her, whether she liked it or not. And the look of her so round up and angry sent something strange pulsing through Severus’s veins.

“I believe we’ve already established I am no normal human being,” he replied nastily, raising a mocking eyebrow in her direction.

She looked, if possible, even more furious.

“You bastard!” she exploded. “You disgusting, hideous, disrespectful bastard! I can’t believe I actually thought you nice back when you were ‘Tiberius Granger’ – I must have been out of my mind!”

“I have never been nice, Miss Granger, not even back then,” said Severus. “Perhaps it was something different altogether that made you think better thoughts of me in those days?”

“How dare you...,” she began, but apparently found no words to continue the sentence. In stead, she heatedly fired away with a new one. “There’s no wonder you have always been a lonely person, Professor. Who would ever stand to be with someone like you?”

He responded without thinking; in three longer strides he had reached her, grabbed her wrists and slammed her hard against the old wall of the Shack’s drawing room, her arms raised high above her head, their faces inches apart.

For several, nerve-wrecking seconds, they stood as though immovable. Severus could feel her nervous breath on his face, and he knew she could feel his too. Her chest was heaving against his, he noticed then, and the closeness of her body suddenly became very obvious to him.

In all honesty, Severus himself was thoroughly surprised he’d leaped at her like that.

She’d just looked so wondrous... So fierce; so passionate and alive; unlike anything he’d ever seen in Miss Granger ever before. It was – he found he couldn’t explain why – mesmerizing. It wasn’t the hideous insult she’d thrown at him that had caused the attack; it was the mere power she’d been radiating.

And now she was inches away, and she looked so beautiful.

Inappropriate.

Inappropriate.

Inappropriate...

He found he no longer cared.

Grasping her wrists firmer and pushing himself even closer to her, he brought his lips down to hers, capturing them without waiting for permission. They felt so soft and good against his own, even better now than back when he’d thought he was kissing Mira Gideon. This was Hermione Granger, and it was all wrong and really inappropriate and for some reason that thought no longer restricted him; it turned him on.

He licked at her lips, at once both demanding and begging entrance, and he silently rejoiced when he felt her lips part, her tongue soon exploring his mouth with as much intensity as his was hers. Their kiss was intoxicating, breathtaking, all about pure lust and – as strange as it may sound – anger.

Severus bit her lower lip teasingly before finally pulling slightly away, only to turn to her jaw line, kissing his way down to her neck. The taste of her alone drove him mad, and when she gasped loudly he was officially lost.

But then he suddenly felt her wrists straining against his grip, and as though burned Severus pulled away; reality came rushing back to him. His hands left hers and her arms fell limply at her side. He turned his head slightly to look at her, but for once he found her expression was completely unreadable.

She looked like she was struggling to ease her breath, and for a few seconds no one spoke. Then, at last –

“Professor,” she whispered.

He simply looked at her, waiting for her to continue. For some reason, he felt like he’d done something terribly wrong just now – not only inappropriate, but wrong, against her as a person – despite the fact that he’d thoroughly enjoyed it.

“You scared me,” she finally finished.

“I apologize,” he replied flatly.

“What – what – why?”

He smirked wryly at her stuttering and stepped away from her, turning to stare at the wall across the room.

She was undoubtedly completely disgusted with his behaviour. She hated him, for the gods’ sake, and he knew this...

But all the same... she had kissed him back, hadn’t she...?


---

A/N: Ah... nothing’s better than a first, genuine kiss... (Because let’s face it, they’ve kissed before, but never whilst knowing each other’s real identities... Wow, that sounded cliché...) In any case, I hope you enjoyed it! Whatever you thought, please feel free to review!

Oh, and by the way - am SO happy you all agree with me on the cello thing! Was a bit nervous about that. Actually I haven\'t seen \"Truly, Madly, Deeply\", but I\'ve heard he even plays Bach there; quite the coincidence, as I had no idea he even starred in a film called that before it was brought to my attention... Must see then... Rickman playing the cello, aaah...