Dance with the Devil

Disclaimer: Not JKR (I think Snape is sexy). No money being made – at all.

Chapter Two: So this is hell

Shocked, Hermione stared down at her former teacher, still kneeling before her.

“You must be joking,” she finally whispered.

His eyes flew up to hers. “I assure you, Miss Granger, this is no laughing matter!”

“Why on earth would I ever want to marry you?” she asked incredulously. “Not only are you over twenty years older than me and have extremely dubious personal hygiene, but you killed Headmaster Dumbledore and caused the death of my best friend!”

“I had nothing to do with Potter’s death,” he hissed, surging up and thrusting the opened box at her, ignoring the truth of the other murder. “Take it, Miss Granger. You would be an absolute fool to reject me.”

“A fool?” Hermione began to laugh. “No, sir, I’d be a fool to accept you! Gods, did you seriously think I would even entertain the thought of …”

“You do not understand your situation, Miss Granger,” Snape interrupted, grasping her shoulder with his free hand. “If you do not accept my suit…”

“I’ll die happy,” she retorted. “Now leave. I reject you, Severus Snape. I reject everything about you. I would rather die then submit to being your wife.”

Hermione felt a shudder of terror race up her spine as she watched his face pale in anger and then suffuse with blood. Angrily, he snapped the small box shut and thrust it into his robes. As he whipped his hand back out, Hermione flinched, expecting to feel his palm connecting with her face.

Instead, all she heard was laboured breathing. Cracking open her eyes, she saw his face contorted with rage. She flinched.

“The offer will remain open indefinitely, Miss Granger,” he finally hissed, spittle flying from his mouth and bathing her face. “Hopefully you will accede to common sense before you find yourself in a situation worse than what you imagine being my wife would be like.”

He turned away from her and moved over to the end of her bed.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I accept you, Snape,” Hermione spat out, braver now she was out of his reach.

He spun around and pinned her with his black, angry eyes. An indefinable emotion flickered across his face. He opened his mouth, but changed his mind. Nodding curtly to her, he stepped forward, turned and Apparated away.

Hermione slumped against the door, letting out a deep breath she had been unaware of holding. As the adrenaline left her system, she began to shake uncontrollably. Sliding down the door, she ended up sitting on the floor, hugging her knees and rocking gently as her mind processed everything Snape had told her.

Once realisation hit, Hermione surged up from the floor and quickly packed some clothes and all her money in a bag. Whirling around she ran out of the bedroom, returning to grab the photo of her and her parents. She dared not leave a note in case anyone else saw it before her parents.

Running to the front door, she pulled it open to reveal the smiling unctuous face of Percy Weasley.

“Ah, Hermione! Excellent, you’re already packed and we don’t have to come in and get you. Not that breaking into Muggle homes is difficult for us wizards,” he added laughing.

Behind him stood four wizards that Hermione had never seen.

“Percy,” she replied in a clipped voice, lowering her bag onto the ground. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to retrieve you, of course. Don’t try and deny any knowledge,” he continued waving forward the wizards behind him. “I know that Professor Snape and young Mr Malfoy were dispatched to advise you of the current situation. Since you are alone, I conclude that neither of them were an acceptable suitor for you. Never mind. We’ll find a suitable position for you.”

Hermione did not even try to struggle when she was grasped by two of Percy’s enforcers.

“Briggs, Thompson – remove any trace of her from the house, Obliviate her parents once they return, and then report back to Lestrange as soon as it’s all done,” Percy commanded.

The other two wizards sneered, but wordlessly went into the house.

Percy smiled at Hermione, revelling in the power he had.

She spat in his face.

One of her guards smothered a bark of laughter. Face red with anger, Percy slapped Hermione sharply across the face.

“Let’s go,” he ordered curtly.

With a pop of Disapparation, Hermione Jane Granger ceased to exist in the Muggle world.

*~*

They Apparated in front of where Florian Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour used to be.

Only now there was another building and business there. The building was four stories high and was faced with glass windows. In each window stood a scantily clad witch, gazing soullessly out at the crowd of wizards standing on the footpath in front, ogling them. Above the front entrance was a flashing green sign.

Malfoy’s Mudblood Mares

“Got us another, have you Percy?” called a voice from the crowd.

“She looks like she be a comfortable ride,” commented another.

The crowd laughed raucously.

“This one is for auction tomorrow,” Percy loftily informed them. “As usual, she will be kept here overnight. Now, please make way.”

The crowd parted, allowing Percy and his entourage through.

As they pushed through the front door, Hermione saw a large man grasping a small, blonde, naked woman by the arm. He was complaining to the person behind the counter.

“I want my money back! I’ve had her for three months, and nothing! You’ve given me faulty goods!”

“Now, now, Marcus,” a horribly familiar voice replied. “Let’s have a look at her, shall we?”

As Marcus Flint pushed the woman forward, Hermione could see who was behind the desk. It was Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy was busy running her wand over the woman, who Hermione sickly realised was Penelope Clearwater. A small sound of distress escaped from her throat as she saw the condition the Ravenclaw girl was in.

Her back was covered in welts, some recent, some old. Her backbone protruded sharply and her shoulder blades stuck out like angel’s wings. Scattered intermittently over her whole body were small burn marks.

Penelope was turned around as Pansy continued her tests. After one brief, horrified look, Hermione averted her eyes.

On the older witch’s chest, someone had carved what seemed to be bull’s eyes around her breasts. A more recent cutting was of an arrow, pointing down to her groin.

Hermione flicked a glance up to Percy, and was disgusted to see a smile of delight on his face.

“How lovely to see you, Penelope!” he said brightly. “And how are you?”

Penelope’s dull eyes looked up at him and her hand moved involuntarily to one of her carved-up breasts.

Percy sighed. “You really should have accepted my offer, Penelope. You really should.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“What’s wrong?” Percy asked, mock sympathy in his voice. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I believe you still have that, don’t you, Percy?” Pansy interjected, furiously.

“Still upset about that, are you?” Percy questioned, his eyes still roaming all over Penelope’s body.

“You ruined good merchandise,” she hissed.

Marcus laughed. “Don’t worry, Pansy. He was punished for that. Weren’t you, Weasley?”

Percy blushed. “I have nothing to say to you, Flint.”

“That’s not what you said during your punishment. More like please … stop … you’re hurting me …. But I think he liked it, in the end. What do you think, Pansy?”

But Pansy did not even hear him.

“You,” she said disbelievingly, staring at Hermione before bursting into laughter. “Oh, how wonderful!! What fun I’m going to have! Hermione Granger, under my control.”

“Not quite, my dear,” came a drawling voice from behind.

Lucius Malfoy, his blonde hair carefully groomed, stepped around and placed his walking stick under Pansy’s chin, tilting her head back, until their eyes met.

“She’s up for auction tomorrow,” he continued, moving his stick and tapping Pansy lightly on the nose, “and is not to be soiled until bought.”

Pansy smiled at him. “Are you bidding, Mr Malfoy?” she simpered.

Lucius turned and looked over Hermione carefully. His lip curled at her rounded body, in no way enhanced by the Muggle clothes she wore, and he actually flinched when he studied her hair.

“I suppose she would appeal to some of our clientele,” he murmured. “We shall see.”

He clicked his fingers and two witches appeared.

“Take her down to the holding pen and get her some proper clothes,” he ordered.

The women nodded and, motioning to the two wizards who still held her, led the way through a concealed door and down a long flight of stairs.

“Now, Mr Flint, what can we do about your little problem?” Hermione heard Lucius say before the door shut with a clang behind her.

*~*

Outside, a pair of tired brown eyes gazed at the entrance of Malfoy’s Mudblood Mares. The green light reflected off his prematurely greying hair.

“He failed,” his hoarse voice proclaimed softly.

“It was inevitable,” the witch beside him responded. “Knowing what she does, how could she trust him?”

“What will we do?” Remus asked hopelessly.

Nymphadora Tonks, unrecognisable as a short, plump middle-aged witch, laid her hand on his shoulder.

“Hope for a cold day in hell,” she replied miserably.

They faded quietly into the blackness of the night.

*~*

Hermione was thrust, shivering, into one of the many small rooms surrounding the shower area, clutching a worn robe to her chest. She had been stripped naked and doused with freezing water. Then she was left to drip dry as her captors stood around, commenting unfavourably on her body.

Well, what do you expect, Granger? she told herself ferociously, jerking the threadbare robe over her head. You don’t exercise and you nibble on junk while reading books all day! In fact, what do you care what these … these …. SLAVE TRADERS think!

She sniffed once and then stilled, hearing movement from the back of her cell.

“Who’s there?” she whispered sharply.

“Hermione? Is that you?” a female’s voice queried faintly.

Hermione turned to the voice, her eyes squinting, desperately trying to see in the dark.

“It is Hermione Granger, isn’t it?” the voice continued.

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “Who are you?”

A slow shuffling sound brought the girl closer.

“It’s me, Lavender Brown,” she revealed.

By this time, Hermione’s eyes had adjusted to the dark and she studied her old roommate. Lavender too looked like she had just escaped from the shower.

“How long have you been here?” Hermione asked.

“Nearly a week,” Lavender replied, brokenly. “They only have the auctions once a week, you know.”

“But you’re wet,” Hermione protested stupidly.

“They make us shower every day,” she replied. “So that potential buyers can come in and see what they’re paying for.”

“No,” Hermione gasped. “They can’t!”

“They do,” Lavender affirmed. “They can do whatever they want to us. We’re just Mudbloods.”

“But … but … marriage …” Hermione stuttered.

Lavender gave a joyless bark of laughter. “What pureblood is going to sully himself?” she asked bitterly. “Hell, I’d even take Marcus Flint – at least I’d only be abused by him and not anyone and everyone.”

“Surely some …” Hermione began.

“Forget it,” Lavender snapped. “No-one is stupid enough to endanger themselves by offering marriage to a Mudblood. He wouldn’t allow it, even if he did write the law.”

“What about Ron? I mean … you two were still kind of … weren’t you? Or Neville? Or … or Seamus?”

“Hermione,” Lavender sighed. “The Weasleys, except arsewipe up there, are exiles. Neville’s gone underground somewhere and Seamus … well … he, like anyone else you can think of, wouldn’t risk himself. There’s no-one, except the inner circle, of course. And there’s no way they’d offer marriage. Well, except for Draco – I heard he was going to offer for you so he could take out revenge on you personally. I guess he just decided to hire you and not bother with the marriage.”

“Why? Why do you think that?” Hermione questioned, a sick feeling in her stomach.

“Well, no-one would turn down an offer of marriage from anyone, especially the inner circle. They have power and could protect you from everyone, except maybe you-know-who,” Lavender explained, incredulously. “I’m amazed you even asked. I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet stupid enough to turn them down!”

“Stupid,” Hermione echoed queasily, remembering Penelope Clearwater’s body.

Turning away from Lavender, who was now trying to relive their Hogwarts days together, Hermione leaned her forehead against the freezing wall.

Her only hope was if Severus Snape turned up at the auction tomorrow.

And if the offer was really still open.