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Dance with the Devil
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
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9,208
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64
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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
9,208
Reviews:
64
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Blizzard in Hell
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR or Warner Bros. No-one gives me any money for playing with these characters.
Chapter Three: A blizzard in hell
Hermione was woken from a fitful doze by an awful clanging sound and a guard’s voice.
“Wake up, Mares – it’s breeding time!” he laughed uproariously, impressed with his own wit.
He was the only one who was.
She moved over to where Lavender was hunched in the corner, weeping piteously, and wrapped her arms around her.
“We have to go, Lavender,” she whispered.
“No,” the crying Gryffindor moaned. “I can’t do it, I can’t, Hermione, I just can’t.”
“Come on, they’ll probably hurt us if we don’t do as they say,” Hermione murmured. “Anyway, you never know what might happen. Better a live dog than a dead lion!”
Lavender’s head shot up, and pinned Hermione with a tear soaked gaze.
“Where did you hear that?” she gasped out hoarsely, hope suddenly gleaming in her eyes.
Shocked at the vehemence Lavender displayed, Hermione edged back away from her.
“It’s an old saying,” Hermione hedged.
“It’s more than that – it’s the …” Lavender began only to be interrupted by a guard throwing open a door.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Beauty and the Beast,” he laughed. It was the same wit of the morning wake-up call. “Come on, Mudbloods – time to be ploughed.”
Slowly, the two young witches stood up and, hands clasped, exited their cell.
Outside, a dozen girls milled around. All of them had either red, weeping eyes or hard, resolute faces. Each one of them knew what was waiting for them. Quite a few were a lot older than Hermione and Lavender, but there were also some who had obviously just turned seventeen. As the reality of her situation finally hit her, Hermione’s queasiness suddenly increased and she bent over, retching onto the concrete floor.
“We’ve got a spewer here!” called a guard’s voice.
Suddenly she was surrounded as hooting jeers filled the room. Hermione straightened up, wiping off a dribble of bile, and locked gazes with Lavender. Amazingly, Hermione found the ability within her to smile.
“A S.P.E.W.er, if you don’t mind,” she joked weakly.
Lavender’s eyes widened until she too began to laugh, albeit slightly hysterically. Hermione joined in.
They were both still laughing when they were herded upstairs to face their fate.
*~*
Hermione looked out over the sea of faces, raised up and studying them all, but could not find the hook nosed, sallow faced wizard she was desperately looking for.
Suddenly, the auctioneer’s voice rang out over the crowd.
“My fellow wizards! I bring you the finest Muggleborn witches for your buying pleasure! I guarantee that none of these have been owned before although, of course, their chastity is debatable. YOU KNOW what Muggles are like!”
The audience laughed raucously.
“Katherine Anderson – step forward!”
A witch, whom Hermione judged to be at least forty, was pushed forward.
“Now, this Muggleborn witch left our world after finishing Hogwarts over twenty years ago and has since bred five children with one Muggle man. Each child is magically endowed and, as they are all under age, have subsequently been adopted by various families. She is a good breeder of magical offspring. Bidding starts at 100 Galleons!”
Sickened, Hermione watched Katherine Anderson as the bidding war swiftly rose up to 1,500 Galleons. The woman’s face was stoic, but Hermione could see a faint trembling in her hands. Finally, bidding ceased at 1,852 Galleons. A collar was fastened around her neck and her new owner came up to lead her off. Hermione did not recognise him.
“Lavender Brown – step forward!”
Visibly trembling, Lavender stepped forward.
“Well, well! We have a recent graduate of Hogwarts here – one who shared a house with,” here the Auctioneer’s voice dropped dramatically, “Harry Potter. Yes, gentlemen! I tell you no lies. For the last eight months she has been living in the Muggle world, so all we can guarantee is that our spells have shown she is not pregnant. However, as you can see, she is young and nubile and has probably had A LOT of experience! Bidding starts at 25 Galleons.”
Again, the bidding was swift. As the auctioneer called for any advance on 854 Galleons, a voice from the back of the crowd rang out powerfully.
“900 Galleons!”
“Sold!” the auctioneer sang out, before he realised that a new bid had been submitted. “No … I mean …”
“Too late!” the same voice from the back informed him. “You’ve sold her.”
Ernie Macmillan came striding forward confidently through the crowd as Lavender’s collar was fastened around her neck. There were mutters from the various wizards in the crowd, but since his public denunciation of his involvement in Dumbledore’s Army, no-one could dispute his claim to the Muggleborn. Triumphantly, he led off his prize and Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief.
Two other witches were auctioned off, but still no Severus Snape arrived to save her.
“Hermione Granger – step forward.”
Her eyes desperately scanning the crowd, Hermione stumbled onto the auction platform.
“Yes, my dear friends, you heard correctly. Hermione Granger – one of the dream team! The cleverest witch of her age! Why, the Ministry has not yet invented a spell this young witch cannot perform! Worried about defending yourself? Don’t be. This witch willingly destroyed her very own wand! Bidding starts at 85 Galleons.”
The price seemed to rise higher and quicker than before. Desperate, Hermione’s eyes darted all over the cavernous room, but to no avail.
“2,213 Galleons going once,” the Auctioneer intoned.
Hermione’s frantic gaze swept the room again.
“Going twice,” came the second call.
“NO!” she screamed in desperation. “PROFESSOR SNAPE! I ACCEPT! I ACCEPT!”
“Sol..” the Auctioneer began only to be interrupted by a voice accustomed to commanding immediate obedience.
“Silence!”
The whole hall fell silent as Severus Snape strode down a rapidly created corridor. He stopped before the raised platform and looked up at her.
“I gather it is a cold day, Miss Granger,” he stated conversationally.
Desperately, Hermione’s eyes locked onto his obsidian ones.
“Yes, sir. It’s freezing,” she weakly concurred.
Holding out his hand, Snape waited for Hermione to grasp his before leading her off the platform.
“What are you doing?” the auctioneer shrilly demanded. “You can’t do this!”
Slowly Severus turned to him.
“Are you saying that I am not allowed to retrieve my fiancé?” he questioned silkily.
“No, no, sir, of course not, sir,” the auctioneer babbled. “So sorry. A mistake, please, a foolish mistake…”
“Precisely,” Snape’s curt response cut across the man’s sycophantic apology.
Her eyes firmly focussed on the ground before her, Hermione allowed Severus Snape to lead her from the floor fully realising she was trading one form of slavery for another.
She hoped this one would be easier to bear then the one Penelope Clearwater was bound to.
*~*
Severus Snape grasped his fiancée tightly by the arm and quickly hustled her out of the Auction Hall. His eyes darted from left to right as his other hand gripped his wand, ready for attack.
Just before they reached the exit of Malfoy’s Mudblood Mares, Hermione stumbled and was torn from Snape’s grasp. She let out a cry of pain as her knee cracked into the threshold.
“Running off without saying goodbye?” came a light, cultured voice from behind them as Snape pulled her upright. “Now, I would call that rude!”
With a growl, Snape turned to face Rodolphus Lestrange and his wife.
“Yes, Severus,” Bellatrix purred. “To deprive us of meeting your future bride? Most cruel and, one might say, unusual.”
Both of them glided towards the newly affianced couple.
“Rodolphus, Bella,” Snape curtly acknowledged, giving a brief bow of his head. From the corner of his eye he noticed Hermione’s leg was sluggishly dripping blood. “So sorry for the haste,” he continued smoothly, “but as you can see, my fiancée is injured. I was too eager to ensure her good health for the … festivities … of the night to observe the social niceties with my fellow Death Eaters.”
The Lestranges laughed politely.
“Please then, do not tarry on our behalf,” Rodolphus replied. “My sweet,” he continued, turning to Bella, “we will see more than enough of the half-blood’s little bride tonight.”
“Why, whatever to you mean?” Bella asked in mock consternation.
“Well, our Brother here wouldn’t deny us the pleasure of witnessing the consummation of the wedding. Would you, Severus?” he questioned lightly. “You know how much pleasure I gain from … watching,” Rodolphus concluded lasciviously, his eyes dropping to Snape’s groin before flicking impersonally over Hermione..
A small whimper escaped from Hermione as she quickly bent over, ostensibly examining her knee.
“My fiancée is in pain,” Snape ground out. “By your leave.”
He turned and quickly pulled Hermione outside, past the anti-Apparation wards surrounding the newest Malfoy business venture.
Rodolphus lazily propped himself against the doorframe as he watched his own personal obsession tandem Apparate away with the little Mudblood.
“I think we must inform our Lord of these new developments,” he murmured quietly to his wife.
Bella stooped down and collected up a drop of Hermione’s blood that had been left on the threshold. Holding it up to her husband, she murmured, “I agree thoroughly, my love.”
They both smiled the same feral smile at each other before stepping outside of the wards and Apparating away.
*~*
“Was that blood she had on her finger?”
“Yes, Hermione’s.”
“Fuck!”
“Very succinct, but not helpful.”
There was a pause before the same female voice continued on.
“At least Snape has her now. That’s one good thing.”
“Ron’s gonna flip.”
“Ron’s an idiot. He had his chance, but blew it a long time ago.”
“Well, Lavender has got the most amazing …”
“Fred!”
“Sorry.”
There was another pause.
“We really should go and report this.”
“What about Penelope?”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
“Fuck.”
“Precisely.”
*~*
Hermione looked around, wide-eyed at the book encrusted room as Snape knelt down before her, pressing a conjured handkerchief against her bleeding knee. A sharp hiss drew her attention away from a book that seemed to be trying to push itself off the shelf.
“What?” she dully asked, looking down at the top of Snape’s greasy-haired head.
“Your blood has dripped down your leg,” he snapped, standing up suddenly and narrowly missing cracking her in the face. “I have to go back and make sure that there’s none of it left lying around.”
“Why?” she questioned, not really caring about the answer.
Nothing seemed real to her. It was all just a bad dream.
“Do not be a complete dunderhead, Miss Granger! Even if you have not delved into the Dark Arts, you must know of the potent power that can be gained with a drop of your victim’s blood.”
No, not a bad dream – a nightmare, she decided.
Jerkily, Snape reached up to brush his oily locks from his face when the book Hermione had noticed moving before suddenly freed itself, sailing through the air to smash into Snape’s arm. Snarling wordlessly, he grasped the book and flipped through it, scanning each page before swearing and slamming the tome shut, banishing it back to its previous resting place.
“Too late,” he grunted, his eyes roving over Hermione’s body, noting her dilated, shocked eyes and sluggish movement as she wandered over to a deep red, velvet couch and settled onto it.
Swiftly, he followed, kneeling before her and running his wand over her seated figure, checking for any other injuries, physical or magical.
“Our time is short,” he informed her curtly, rummaging inside his robes and pulling out a familiar jewellery box. Pushing the ring onto her appropriate finger, he continued on. “I will be summoned soon – the Dark Lord will wish to discuss my plans for my prospective bride. Luckily, as you are Muggleborn and I am a half-blood, we will be spared having a full, pureblood bonding ceremony.”
Hermione gazed at him. “That’s nice,” she responded mechanically.
Snape cursed again and grasped his left arm, hissing slightly.
“I have been summoned and must leave now!” he snarled.
He stood up, grasping her and hauling her up with him.
“Leave? Summoned? Where are you going?” Hermione babbled.
“To the Dark Lord, of course,” Snape snapped back. He gripped her by the arms and shook her lightly. “Do not leave this house, Miss Granger. You are safe as long as you stay within these walls. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Professor,” she mumbled.
A growl was emitted from his throat. “We are to be married, Miss Granger. Try to start saying my name!”
With that, he stepped away and Disapparated.
Alone at last, Hermione collapsed back onto the couch and, as her mind finally processed everything that had happened to her, burst into unrestrained sobs.
Chapter Three: A blizzard in hell
Hermione was woken from a fitful doze by an awful clanging sound and a guard’s voice.
“Wake up, Mares – it’s breeding time!” he laughed uproariously, impressed with his own wit.
He was the only one who was.
She moved over to where Lavender was hunched in the corner, weeping piteously, and wrapped her arms around her.
“We have to go, Lavender,” she whispered.
“No,” the crying Gryffindor moaned. “I can’t do it, I can’t, Hermione, I just can’t.”
“Come on, they’ll probably hurt us if we don’t do as they say,” Hermione murmured. “Anyway, you never know what might happen. Better a live dog than a dead lion!”
Lavender’s head shot up, and pinned Hermione with a tear soaked gaze.
“Where did you hear that?” she gasped out hoarsely, hope suddenly gleaming in her eyes.
Shocked at the vehemence Lavender displayed, Hermione edged back away from her.
“It’s an old saying,” Hermione hedged.
“It’s more than that – it’s the …” Lavender began only to be interrupted by a guard throwing open a door.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Beauty and the Beast,” he laughed. It was the same wit of the morning wake-up call. “Come on, Mudbloods – time to be ploughed.”
Slowly, the two young witches stood up and, hands clasped, exited their cell.
Outside, a dozen girls milled around. All of them had either red, weeping eyes or hard, resolute faces. Each one of them knew what was waiting for them. Quite a few were a lot older than Hermione and Lavender, but there were also some who had obviously just turned seventeen. As the reality of her situation finally hit her, Hermione’s queasiness suddenly increased and she bent over, retching onto the concrete floor.
“We’ve got a spewer here!” called a guard’s voice.
Suddenly she was surrounded as hooting jeers filled the room. Hermione straightened up, wiping off a dribble of bile, and locked gazes with Lavender. Amazingly, Hermione found the ability within her to smile.
“A S.P.E.W.er, if you don’t mind,” she joked weakly.
Lavender’s eyes widened until she too began to laugh, albeit slightly hysterically. Hermione joined in.
They were both still laughing when they were herded upstairs to face their fate.
*~*
Hermione looked out over the sea of faces, raised up and studying them all, but could not find the hook nosed, sallow faced wizard she was desperately looking for.
Suddenly, the auctioneer’s voice rang out over the crowd.
“My fellow wizards! I bring you the finest Muggleborn witches for your buying pleasure! I guarantee that none of these have been owned before although, of course, their chastity is debatable. YOU KNOW what Muggles are like!”
The audience laughed raucously.
“Katherine Anderson – step forward!”
A witch, whom Hermione judged to be at least forty, was pushed forward.
“Now, this Muggleborn witch left our world after finishing Hogwarts over twenty years ago and has since bred five children with one Muggle man. Each child is magically endowed and, as they are all under age, have subsequently been adopted by various families. She is a good breeder of magical offspring. Bidding starts at 100 Galleons!”
Sickened, Hermione watched Katherine Anderson as the bidding war swiftly rose up to 1,500 Galleons. The woman’s face was stoic, but Hermione could see a faint trembling in her hands. Finally, bidding ceased at 1,852 Galleons. A collar was fastened around her neck and her new owner came up to lead her off. Hermione did not recognise him.
“Lavender Brown – step forward!”
Visibly trembling, Lavender stepped forward.
“Well, well! We have a recent graduate of Hogwarts here – one who shared a house with,” here the Auctioneer’s voice dropped dramatically, “Harry Potter. Yes, gentlemen! I tell you no lies. For the last eight months she has been living in the Muggle world, so all we can guarantee is that our spells have shown she is not pregnant. However, as you can see, she is young and nubile and has probably had A LOT of experience! Bidding starts at 25 Galleons.”
Again, the bidding was swift. As the auctioneer called for any advance on 854 Galleons, a voice from the back of the crowd rang out powerfully.
“900 Galleons!”
“Sold!” the auctioneer sang out, before he realised that a new bid had been submitted. “No … I mean …”
“Too late!” the same voice from the back informed him. “You’ve sold her.”
Ernie Macmillan came striding forward confidently through the crowd as Lavender’s collar was fastened around her neck. There were mutters from the various wizards in the crowd, but since his public denunciation of his involvement in Dumbledore’s Army, no-one could dispute his claim to the Muggleborn. Triumphantly, he led off his prize and Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief.
Two other witches were auctioned off, but still no Severus Snape arrived to save her.
“Hermione Granger – step forward.”
Her eyes desperately scanning the crowd, Hermione stumbled onto the auction platform.
“Yes, my dear friends, you heard correctly. Hermione Granger – one of the dream team! The cleverest witch of her age! Why, the Ministry has not yet invented a spell this young witch cannot perform! Worried about defending yourself? Don’t be. This witch willingly destroyed her very own wand! Bidding starts at 85 Galleons.”
The price seemed to rise higher and quicker than before. Desperate, Hermione’s eyes darted all over the cavernous room, but to no avail.
“2,213 Galleons going once,” the Auctioneer intoned.
Hermione’s frantic gaze swept the room again.
“Going twice,” came the second call.
“NO!” she screamed in desperation. “PROFESSOR SNAPE! I ACCEPT! I ACCEPT!”
“Sol..” the Auctioneer began only to be interrupted by a voice accustomed to commanding immediate obedience.
“Silence!”
The whole hall fell silent as Severus Snape strode down a rapidly created corridor. He stopped before the raised platform and looked up at her.
“I gather it is a cold day, Miss Granger,” he stated conversationally.
Desperately, Hermione’s eyes locked onto his obsidian ones.
“Yes, sir. It’s freezing,” she weakly concurred.
Holding out his hand, Snape waited for Hermione to grasp his before leading her off the platform.
“What are you doing?” the auctioneer shrilly demanded. “You can’t do this!”
Slowly Severus turned to him.
“Are you saying that I am not allowed to retrieve my fiancé?” he questioned silkily.
“No, no, sir, of course not, sir,” the auctioneer babbled. “So sorry. A mistake, please, a foolish mistake…”
“Precisely,” Snape’s curt response cut across the man’s sycophantic apology.
Her eyes firmly focussed on the ground before her, Hermione allowed Severus Snape to lead her from the floor fully realising she was trading one form of slavery for another.
She hoped this one would be easier to bear then the one Penelope Clearwater was bound to.
*~*
Severus Snape grasped his fiancée tightly by the arm and quickly hustled her out of the Auction Hall. His eyes darted from left to right as his other hand gripped his wand, ready for attack.
Just before they reached the exit of Malfoy’s Mudblood Mares, Hermione stumbled and was torn from Snape’s grasp. She let out a cry of pain as her knee cracked into the threshold.
“Running off without saying goodbye?” came a light, cultured voice from behind them as Snape pulled her upright. “Now, I would call that rude!”
With a growl, Snape turned to face Rodolphus Lestrange and his wife.
“Yes, Severus,” Bellatrix purred. “To deprive us of meeting your future bride? Most cruel and, one might say, unusual.”
Both of them glided towards the newly affianced couple.
“Rodolphus, Bella,” Snape curtly acknowledged, giving a brief bow of his head. From the corner of his eye he noticed Hermione’s leg was sluggishly dripping blood. “So sorry for the haste,” he continued smoothly, “but as you can see, my fiancée is injured. I was too eager to ensure her good health for the … festivities … of the night to observe the social niceties with my fellow Death Eaters.”
The Lestranges laughed politely.
“Please then, do not tarry on our behalf,” Rodolphus replied. “My sweet,” he continued, turning to Bella, “we will see more than enough of the half-blood’s little bride tonight.”
“Why, whatever to you mean?” Bella asked in mock consternation.
“Well, our Brother here wouldn’t deny us the pleasure of witnessing the consummation of the wedding. Would you, Severus?” he questioned lightly. “You know how much pleasure I gain from … watching,” Rodolphus concluded lasciviously, his eyes dropping to Snape’s groin before flicking impersonally over Hermione..
A small whimper escaped from Hermione as she quickly bent over, ostensibly examining her knee.
“My fiancée is in pain,” Snape ground out. “By your leave.”
He turned and quickly pulled Hermione outside, past the anti-Apparation wards surrounding the newest Malfoy business venture.
Rodolphus lazily propped himself against the doorframe as he watched his own personal obsession tandem Apparate away with the little Mudblood.
“I think we must inform our Lord of these new developments,” he murmured quietly to his wife.
Bella stooped down and collected up a drop of Hermione’s blood that had been left on the threshold. Holding it up to her husband, she murmured, “I agree thoroughly, my love.”
They both smiled the same feral smile at each other before stepping outside of the wards and Apparating away.
*~*
“Was that blood she had on her finger?”
“Yes, Hermione’s.”
“Fuck!”
“Very succinct, but not helpful.”
There was a pause before the same female voice continued on.
“At least Snape has her now. That’s one good thing.”
“Ron’s gonna flip.”
“Ron’s an idiot. He had his chance, but blew it a long time ago.”
“Well, Lavender has got the most amazing …”
“Fred!”
“Sorry.”
There was another pause.
“We really should go and report this.”
“What about Penelope?”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
“Fuck.”
“Precisely.”
*~*
Hermione looked around, wide-eyed at the book encrusted room as Snape knelt down before her, pressing a conjured handkerchief against her bleeding knee. A sharp hiss drew her attention away from a book that seemed to be trying to push itself off the shelf.
“What?” she dully asked, looking down at the top of Snape’s greasy-haired head.
“Your blood has dripped down your leg,” he snapped, standing up suddenly and narrowly missing cracking her in the face. “I have to go back and make sure that there’s none of it left lying around.”
“Why?” she questioned, not really caring about the answer.
Nothing seemed real to her. It was all just a bad dream.
“Do not be a complete dunderhead, Miss Granger! Even if you have not delved into the Dark Arts, you must know of the potent power that can be gained with a drop of your victim’s blood.”
No, not a bad dream – a nightmare, she decided.
Jerkily, Snape reached up to brush his oily locks from his face when the book Hermione had noticed moving before suddenly freed itself, sailing through the air to smash into Snape’s arm. Snarling wordlessly, he grasped the book and flipped through it, scanning each page before swearing and slamming the tome shut, banishing it back to its previous resting place.
“Too late,” he grunted, his eyes roving over Hermione’s body, noting her dilated, shocked eyes and sluggish movement as she wandered over to a deep red, velvet couch and settled onto it.
Swiftly, he followed, kneeling before her and running his wand over her seated figure, checking for any other injuries, physical or magical.
“Our time is short,” he informed her curtly, rummaging inside his robes and pulling out a familiar jewellery box. Pushing the ring onto her appropriate finger, he continued on. “I will be summoned soon – the Dark Lord will wish to discuss my plans for my prospective bride. Luckily, as you are Muggleborn and I am a half-blood, we will be spared having a full, pureblood bonding ceremony.”
Hermione gazed at him. “That’s nice,” she responded mechanically.
Snape cursed again and grasped his left arm, hissing slightly.
“I have been summoned and must leave now!” he snarled.
He stood up, grasping her and hauling her up with him.
“Leave? Summoned? Where are you going?” Hermione babbled.
“To the Dark Lord, of course,” Snape snapped back. He gripped her by the arms and shook her lightly. “Do not leave this house, Miss Granger. You are safe as long as you stay within these walls. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Professor,” she mumbled.
A growl was emitted from his throat. “We are to be married, Miss Granger. Try to start saying my name!”
With that, he stepped away and Disapparated.
Alone at last, Hermione collapsed back onto the couch and, as her mind finally processed everything that had happened to her, burst into unrestrained sobs.