Inside the Blackest Heart (Edit, Not Update)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 34 ~ The Escape

Albus approached the Potions Master’s office, and found a simple ward protecting it, which he quickly disabled.

“Alohamora,” he said, unlocking the door.

Quietly, he turned the handle and entered the Potions Master’s office. Pity. Snape was an insolent, unlikable, traitorous bastard, but he had been one of the best Potions Professors in the history of Hogwarts. He would be hard to replace. But he would be.

Albus approached the bookcase and pulled the tome that opened the study. It didn’t open. The study was warded as well. Albus removed the ward and pulled the tome out again. It still didn’t open. Albus checked again. Another stronger ward was in place. The Headmaster glowered. He removed that ward as well, and found another stronger one in its place. Snape knew he was looking for him. Furious, Albus stepped back and let out a powerful blast that shook the Potions office, and the study within.

“SEVERUS!” he roared

Inside the study the Potions Master calmly looked at Hermione.

“That’s our cue, Miss Granger,” he said as another powerful blast shook the study. He offered his arm, and Hermione took it nervously.

The Potions Master stood there.

“Why aren’t we apparating?” Hermione asked as the study was shaken by another blast.

Snape looked down at her.

“I just want to see his face,” the Potions Master replied, his black eyes glittering as he watched the study door.

There was another blast that blew the wall out. Albus stepped through. Hermione had never seen the Headmaster look so frightening. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a horrible snarl, and his brow was furrowed in rage. His blue eyes, the same eyes that twinkled so merrily at her were full of hatred…and death.

The Headmaster paused in surprise as he saw Hermione on the Professor’s arm, cloaked and with a carry-all bag in her hand. Snape’s black eyes met his, and the Potions Master lips curled in a slow, taunting smile.

“NO!” Albus screamed, lunging forward desperately and throwing a blast as the pair disapparated. It hit the fireplace, blowing out a chunk of stone.

“No!” Albus said, dropping his head. They were gone to the Dark Lord’s domain.

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Voldemort sat on his throne listening to the two surviving deatheaters tell how they thwarted the attempt on the Grangers’ lives. The Dark Lord was delighted when told who the assailant was.

“Dumbledore? He tried to kill the Grangers? Oh, this is too, too rich. He has practically placed the Primordial in my hand! Quick, bring me a pensieve!”

Voldemort had summoned a select few of his deatheaters on the return of Joel and Huestus. He figured Hermione would be arriving with Severus soon, and he wanted to make a show of power for the witch. He had transformed his normally bleak and empty throne room to a place of opulence, with tapestries, silks and ornate furniture.

A deatheater quickly rushed up to the wizard, and falling to his knees with his head down, handed the wizard a small bowl. The Dark Lord rose from his throne, descended it and walked up to Joel and Heustus, who bowed their heads. Voldemort extracted their memories, depositing them into the bowl. When finished, he mounted his throne, sat down and place one long, reptilian finger in the silvery liquid, his red eyes shifting as he watched their experience. He laughed out loud with delight when Dumbledore’s glamour fell, revealing him, a wide lipless smile spreading across his face. His tongue flickered out when he finished.

“Excellent!” he said to the two deatheaters. “You have done well. I do not have any muggle women to offer you…” he said, frowning slightly at the two wizards

“…because we have suspended our Dark Revels for the time the Primordial will be staying with us. I plan to create another location for that sport, never fear my deatheaters, never fear. For now you may select any female from among our ranks to reward yourselves with. Only do not use your enhancement magic on them, and do not beat them to the point they cannot serve me. Restraint gentlemen. Restraint. Now go, choose who you will.”

“Thank you my Lord,” both men intoned. They turned with narrowed eyes and began to move through the crowd of deatheaters, eyeing the women lustfully, their eyes roaming up and down their bodies. Some of the women were married, but that made no difference. All were in service to the Dark Lord, he was their true husband, and they obeyed him faithfully.

Joel’s eye fell on Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing next to her husband Lucius, who narrowed his eyes discretely at the deatheater to warn him off without attracting the Dark Lord’s attention. Joel ignored him, parted Narcissa’s cloak, and lifted her robes, checking out her long legs. He looked at her cold, proud face, and plainly saw disdain in her ice-blue eyes. He caught her by the hand.

“You’ll do,” he growled, smirking at Lucius, whose hands were clenched into fists. The pureblood trembled with rage. But there was nothing he could do. The Dark Lord had given them free reign of the women. Narcissa looked at her husband, then obediently followed Joel, who took her to a silk-cover divan, laid her down on it, and began opening her robes.

“Crucio!” Voldemort said lazily, hitting Joel with a short burst of the curse. The deatheater spasmed for a moment, then the curse stopped. He stood there gasping, looking at the Dark Lord.

“Not here, you idiot. The Primordial will be here soon. I don’t want her walking in on your naked ass pumping up and down. Take her to one of the backrooms,” Voldemort lisped.

Joel nodded, pulled Narcissa off the divan and walked through a side door, Lucius watching them depart with red-rimmed eyes. Voldemort looked at him.

“Now, now Lucius. Surely you wouldn’t deny Joel his reward?” he said softly to the blonde-haired wizard.

“No, my Lord,” Lucius replied, bowing slightly.

“She won’t be any worse for wear when she returns. You should be proud that she renders such service in the name of your Lord,” Voldemort said.

“I am, my Lord,” Lucius replied.

“Good, Lucius. I would hate to have to punish you for selfishness,” the Dark Lord said.

Lucius paled a bit. “No, my Lord. That will not be necessary. I willingly share whatever I have with my brothers,” he said.

Voldemort nodded. His red eyes flickered around the room. His deatheaters were in full regalia, standing in mass to the right and left of his throne, leaving an aisle down the middle. They looked impressive. Over a thousand strong.

“Has the Primordial’s rooms been prepared?” he asked.

“Yes, my Lord,” a squeaky voice piped up. Peter Pettigrew shouldered his way through the crowd and bowed low. “It has been set up with a bedroom, a living room, full bath and shower, and a well-stocked library.”

Voldemort eyed the rat-like little man. “How about servants?” he asked.

“Two house elves, my Lord,” Peter simpered with another quick bow. He was such a groveling little snit.

“Very good, Peter,” Voldemort said, dismissing him. He disappeared back into the crowd.

“Now I am reminding you all one last time that there are to be no derogatory remarks about muggles or muggle-borns in the Primordial’s presence. Those who disobey this directive will suffer my wrath. Is this understood?” the Dark Lord hissed.

Echoes of “Yes, my Lord” rang through the throne room.

“Later, you will be allowed to test her. But for now she is to be treated as a guest. All will be on their best behavior.”

Again echoes of assent were heard.

Voldemort suddenly stiffened.

“They are coming!” he said excitedly. The Dark Lord straightened his splendid green and silver robes, and sat up very straight in his throne, holding his wand like a scepter.

Snape and Hermione apparated with a clap of thunder at the end of the aisle.

“Remember,” Snape hissed, “Curtsey, kiss his hand and do not under any circumstances react to his appearance. Address him as “my Lord”.

Hermione clutched Snape’s arm so tightly, she was cutting off his circulation as they walked up the aisle toward the tall, lean figure sitting on the throne. They stopped in front of it.

“Allow me to introduce Miss Hermione Granger, my Lord,” Snape said bowing.

Hermione curtsied as instructed, then looked up at the wizard. She fought back a gasp at his snake-like appearance. His skin was covered by thin scales, though still flesh. His nostrils were slits, and his lips so thin he appeared lipless. She could discern no ears. He was also hairless.

“Approach me, Miss Granger,” Voldemort lisped. Tentatively she moved closer to the throne. Voldemort stood and descended. He moved fluidly, almost gracefully as he approached. His red eyes searched her face.

“Lovely,” he lisped, looking over at Snape, his eyes slitting slightly in approval.

He looked back at Hermione.

“I am honored, Primordial,” he said, lifting her hand and pressing his thin lips to it. Hermione suppressed a shudder.

“Thank you for your kindness in protecting my family, my Lord,” Hermione said. She did mean it.

“I am glad I could assist you in your time of need, Miss Granger. You are welcome to dwell with me as long as you like,” he said, “You are under my protection and shall come to no harm here. You are beyond the reach of Dumbledore,” he said, giving her a toothy smile.

“I thank you, my Lord,” she said, giving another slight curtsey.

“Your rooms have been prepared. I imagine you are very tired. This has been a trying day for you. You will be escorted to your rooms for the night. On the morrow, we shall chat,” the Dark Lord said, motioning to a female deatheater who stepped forward. She approached Hermione, who looked at the masked woman with a bit of apprehension. She lowered her hood and removed her mask. She was lovely, dark-eyed and dark-haired. The woman smiled.

“My name is Delilah. Allow me to show you to your rooms, Miss Granger,” she said politely.

She gestured toward a door, and she and Hermione walked through it, Hermione fighting the urge to look back at Snape. As soon as the door was closed, Voldemort turned to Snape.

“You have done well, Severus. Well indeed. You have made up for all my disappointments in you. You are indeed my most loyal and trusted servant,” the Dark Lord said, then raised his scaly eyebrows. “And a most fortunate wizard to be bedding such a lovely witch. She is quite delicious. You must let me see you fucking her via pensieve one day.”

“Certainly, my Lord,” Snape replied, bowing, “It would be my pleasure.”

“I would like to reward you, Severus. As I told Joel and Huestus, I have no muggles available, due to the arrival of Miss Granger, but you may have your pick of any of our females, if you like….that is if you have not been sated by the Primordial,” the Dark Lord said with a leer.

Snape turned and looked at the many women. All of them were smiling at him. He was the Dark Lord’s favorite now. Well, he had wanted a blowjob.

“Thank you, my Lord, I believe I will indulge myself,” he replied. He looked over the women, and his eyes fell on one who had very full, lush lips. He crooked a finger at her, and she approached him, smiling. She stood in front of him for a moment, looking him in the eye. The Professor’s eyes flicked down then up again.

She lowered her hood, removed her mask and dropped to her knees.

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A/N: Well, that’s it. Hermione’s arrived in hell. Snape is in good with Voldy. Dumbledore is completely pissed. Please review.