Dance with the Devil

Disclaimer: Oh, go and look at the disclaimers on all the other chapters! Sheesh….

Chapter Seven: Shopping in hell

The next morning, Hermione was relieved to wake up alone in the bed.

I did it! she mentally gloated. I bedded the bat of the dungeons without hurling up on him!

Ron and Harry would have been so proud of her. Rampantly disgusted, but proud.

Sighing, she hauled herself upright and gazed around the room. Laid out on a chair was the robe she had been given for the auction, cleaned and ready to put on.

It’ll be a cold day in hell before I wear that again! she thought.

Then she winced, remembering the outcome of the last time she made that statement.

Shuffling off the bed, she quickly raced over to the large wardrobe in the corner and, flinging open the doors, found only numerous sets of Snape’s black robes. She moved over to the tallboy and started flinging open drawers, but her Muggle clothes were nowhere to be found.

Neither was there any underwear.

Defeated, she returned to the chair and slipped the slave robes over her head. She grimaced as her breasts swayed, unsupported, when she crossed to the doorway.

Sighing, she made her way to the kitchen, hoping that Snape had some more food which did not require any magical means to prepare.

He didn’t.

*~*

In the library, Severus Snape angrily grasped at the flapping book which was trying to attack his head. Jerking it open, he read the contents before summoning his quill and scratching out a response. Smirking maliciously, he sent the book back to its shelf and picked up The Daily Prophet, scowling at the front page which showed his wife screaming ‘PROFESSOR SNAPE! I ACCEPT!’ over and over.

He was so engrossed in sneering, that the book managed to give him one good hearty wallop before he grasped it again.

Rage suffusing his face, he wrenched it open, read the message, wrote a reply and slammed it shut. Then, pulling out his wand, he pointed at the book intoning Liber, Oppugno Scriptor before opening it again. Writing another message, he sent the tome back to the shelves.

Five minutes later, the book gently floated over to him. He read the apology and the promise of punishment before closing it again and levitating it back to its resting place. Then he once again allowed himself to be absorbed in the paper.

“There’s still a paper?” came his wife’s voice, interrupting his peaceful morning.

“Of course,” he replied curtly.

“Good morning to you too,” she muttered before coming over and standing in front of him.

He ignored her, hoping she would go away.

She did not.

“May I help you, madam?” he finally enquired.

“I want my clothes back.”

“No,” he replied, raising the newspaper up between them.

“Why not?”

“You cannot wear Muggle clothes. It is against the law.”

Silence filled the room, but she did not move from her position.

“Fine. I need new clothes.”

Severus sighed, lowering the paper to look at his wife.

“And some food,” she added.

He frowned, realising that her lack of wand would mean he would have to wait on her. It was not a situation he relished. Pulling out his wand, he blasted a spell in the direction of the kitchen.

“Once you have eaten, we will go to Diagon Alley,” he informed her. “Until then, leave me in peace.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, turning to stalk out of the room.

“Severus,” he reminded her absently.

“Pardon?” she replied.

“You need to call me Severus,” he repeated, scowling at what the paper decided constituted as news.

“I don’t think so. You won’t call me Hermione,” she retaliated. “You keep calling me ‘madam’.”

Carefully, Snape lowered his paper and gazed thoughtfully at his young bride.

“I do not think you understand your precarious position in this world, madam. You are the only Mudblood who has been allowed to marry since the Dark Lord came into power,” he informed her.

Hermione gasped. “Don’t call me a Mudblood!”

“You must get used to it. Nobody, except fools and idiots, refer to ‘Muggleborns’ anymore, not even in private.”

Hermione glared. “Well, it’s not possible that no other … you know … haven’t married!”

“Of course it is, you wretched child! Existing marriages between half-bloods and Mudbloods have been allowed to stand, as have ones between Mudbloods if they live in the wizarding world and accept the new laws!”

“That’s barbaric!” she exclaimed. “What about those who have married Muggles?” she suddenly questioned, remembering Katherine Anderson.

“All marriages to Muggles have been voided. Half-bloods have the opportunity to return willingly to the wizarding world to marry purebloods or other half-bloods, but not Mudbloods.”

He did not need to explain what happened to those Muggleborn witches and wizards who were wrenched from their homes.

“Hold on! What about the men? I didn’t see any men being auctioned of!” she noted indignantly.

Snape blinked. “Of course not. You were at the Mares’ auction, not the Studs’.”

Hermione gaped wordlessly.

“As I was saying, your position is precarious. Not only are you the only Mudblood who has been allowed to marry, you are married to one of the Inner Circle. Do I need to explain that concept to you, madam?”

Still speechless, Hermione shook her head.

“Therefore, we need to be very careful. I call you madam as a mark of protection. It shows to the other Death Eaters that I have accepted you as my responsibility and will act accordingly to any insult shown to you. If you call me by my given name, not only does it prove your lack of breeding inherent as a Mudblood but also my willingness to indulge you. It will further show that you are precious to me and not to be trifled with.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione began. “I’m not precious to you – you can’t stand me!”

“True,” Snape admitted and Hermione felt a small stab of hurt. “However, the Death Eaters are all harbouring the delusion that I am desperate for a woman who is my own and who will regenerate the Prince family line. Even if she is known as the most annoying student I have ever taught.”

He stopped and caught her gaze, locking his black eyes with her soft brown ones.

“It must be seen by all that I will not willingly let you go,” he advised. “It is all the protection I can give to you at the moment.”

“But … the marriage … Draco,” she stammered.

“Draco told you the truth: it is not the safest marriage for you. Even if you are pregnant within the six months and our marriage is not dissolved, you may still be called upon to entertain others who have pleased the Dark Lord.”

“No,” she gasped, horrified and beginning to feel very scared.

Snape nodded. “But if you are seen to mean something to me, you may be rejected by the other Death Eaters you are offered to. None of them want to annoy me at the moment.”

“Why not?”

“The last Death Eater who displeased me died a very painful and brutal death. That is the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins: people are never aware of it until it is too late,” he smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Snape raised the paper again.

“Well, I will leave you then, Severus, to your paper.”

A wordless grunt was her only answer.

*~*

Although she would never admit it, Hermione was glad that Snape had insisted she take his arm as they walked down Diagon Alley. Many people stopped and stared as they watched the couple walk past. The brown, mud-coloured cloak which Snape had insisted she wear (another symbol of her birth, she found out) thankfully covered her slave robe (as she referred to it), but did cause more people to look closer at the Mudblood on the arm of a member of Voldemort’s inner circle.

She was disturbingly reminded of the stares she received in Hogsmeade during the Triwizard Tournament when Rita Skeeter had been writing so many lies about her and Harry.

Snape quickly hustled her into Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, but her eyes couldn’t help lingering on the shop across the way – the one that used to be Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. She shuddered, remembering her own short internment there – had it only been yesterday that she escaped?

“We don’t serve your kind here,” an angry voice caused Hermione to whip her head around, meeting the half-angry, half-embarrassed gaze of Madam Malkin.

“Are you refusing to serve my wife?” Snape’s voice slithered throughout the shop, promising evil to all who opposed him.

“Of course not, Professor … I mean Mister … I mean,” the proprietress sputtered.

“Professor is adequate,” he announced. “A pity I cannot say the same for your robes. Maybe my wife and I would be better served taking our business to Gladrags or Twillfit and Tatting’s. What do you say, madam?” he turned to ask Hermione directly.

Remembering his instructions, Hermione simpered back. “Oh, Severus – we’re here now. The sooner we are done, the sooner we can go back home.”

She cast what she believed to be a flirtatious smile at him, all the while screaming inside.

Snape raised a sardonic brow at her. “As you wish, my dear, as you wish,” he murmured, before turning to Madam Malkin and issuing a series of instructions as to how his wife should be attired.

If he mentioned green or silver, Hermione resolved to kick him emphatically in the shin – surreptitiously, of course.

She was relieved to note that he mentioned underwear.

“Everything will be ready in an hour, Professor,” Madam Malkin assured him.

“Half an hour,” he corrected. “My bride and I wish to return home as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” she concurred, bowing as they left the shop.

“Wand next,” Severus curtly informed Hermione as he flipped the hood of her cloak up.

Grasping her arm, he led her down Knockturn Alley.

“But Ollivander’s …” she protested.

“He never came back,” Snape informed her quietly. “Do not mention him again, madam.”

“I thought I was ‘my dear’,” she muttered, skipping a bit to keep up with his long stride.

She kept her eyes averted from the shops and people who inhabited the alleyway, concentrating only on where her feet were stepping. Tears flooded her eyes as she recollected Harry’s story of being rescued by Hagrid when he had accidentally Flooed into Borgin & Burkes.

Which is, of course, where Snape dragged her into.

“Mister Borgin!” he called out imperiously.

“Ah! Severus Snape,” replied Mister Borgin, stepping out from a store room. “How can I help you today?”

“I need a wand,” Severus began.

“Another?” Borgin queried. “Surely …”

“For my wife,” Snape ground out over the proprietor’s fawning.

“Of course,” Borgin agreed sycophantically. “What type of wand are we looking for?”

Severus turned to Hermione, whose eyes were wide with horror, absorbing all the monstrosities of the shop. The last time she had been in here, the merchandise had been completely tame compared to what stocked the shelves now.

“Er, vine wood. And a dragon heartstring core,” she informed him.

“Hmm, I don’t have any vine wood, but I do have a few dragon heartstring ones,” he admitted. “The newest is a hornbeam with a dragon heartstring. Not an Ollivander, unfortunately. A Gregorovich.”

“Gregorovich?” Hermione questioned. “You have a hornbeam, dragon heartstring Gregorovich wand?”

“That is what he said, my dear,” Snape agreed, a warning evident in his tone. “Any mahogany?”

“Yes, an Ollivander, ten and a quarter inches. Excellent for Transfiguration.”

Snape nodded curtly, wandering over to a cabinet displaying various bottles of potions, before continuing around the corner and out of sight. As Borgin disappeared into the storeroom to collect the wand, the bell above the front door rang, signalling the arrival of new customers.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Half-Blood Prince’s new little mare,” Lucius Malfoy’s dulcet tone drifted throughout the shop. “And he didn’t even have to pay a single bronze Knut for you, did he, horsy?”

“Severus?” Hermione called apprehensively as Lucius approached her, Draco following behind.

Mimicking his earlier actions with Pansy, Lucius pushed the head of his cane under her chin, stretching her neck up whilst lifting her head.

“A pity,” he murmured. “With hips like those, you would have been well sought after for breeding stock.”

“Now, now, Lucius,” Snape warned as he walked nonchalantly back into view. “You know she is mine at least until she is procreating my line.”

“Of course, my Brother,” Lucius acquiesced, removing his cane. “Merely window shopping. It’s so much more titillating when it’s forbidden. Don’t you agree, Draco?”

Draco shrugged. “She’s just another Mudblood whore.”

“No, no, no, Draco,” Lucius corrected. “She’s Severus’ wife.”

Again Draco shrugged, concentrating on the artefacts displayed.

Borgin reappeared. “Here’s the wand for you, Mister Snape. It is, of course, still locked. If you require any assistance?”

Snape glared at him before negligently throwing down thirty Galleons and handing the wand to Hermione.

“You’re arming her?” Lucius raised his eyebrows in mock horror. “How will you sleep at night?”

“Sated and spent between her thighs, Lucius. Unlike you, of course. How is Narcissa?” Snape asked, gloatingly. “Is she capable of allowing you back in her bed yet?”

With a hiss, Lucius reached to draw his wand from his cane, only to find Snape’s wand already pressed to his throat.

“My wife and I are leaving,” Snape smirked. “To enjoy the rest of the day. I wish you a pleasant afternoon.”

Withdrawing his wand from Lucius’ throat, Snape wrapped his arm around Hermione and dragged her out of the shop, up Knockturn Alley and back to Madam Malkin’s.

Shaking with fear and anger, Hermione gathered up her new clothes and followed Severus out of the shop.

“Do not try and use the wand yet, madam,” he warned her. “It needs to be unlocked and stripped before you use even the simplest spell.”

“How,” she began to ask only to be interrupted with the standard, “Not here.”

Fuming, she allowed herself to be dragged past Eeylops Owl Emporium, Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Slug & Jiggers Apothecary before they entered the Leaky Cauldron. There Severus gathered up some Floo powder and, activating the destination, pushed Hermione and all her shopping into the green flames.

*~*


A/N*Translation: Book, attack writer.

My wonderful Betas throughout at GinnyW and JuneW - Goddesses walking on the earth!

To my reviewers:

MudbloodMalfoy - Don\'t worry, I share your feelings ;-)
M- I will!