Disclaimer: I don’t own them. And I probably shouldn’t have taken them out of their boxes to play with because that ruins their collector value. Oh, well.
No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Matthew 6:24
It was odd how that verse came back to him whenever his Dark Mark flared with burning pain. Snape was not raised a Christian. In the tradition of Pureblood families, he eschewed religion. But he had ran across that quotation in a Muggle book once and it stuck with him.
“Hermione,” he said quietly. “Please alert the Headmaster. I am being summoned.” Quickly, he cast a stasis spell on the Blood Replenishing Potion he had been brewing. He could have told Hermione to finish it; she was far enough along in her apprenticeship to do so, however, if he did, she would be too busy to worry about him. Lately, the Dark Lord had been increasingly angry at Snape. The location of Harry Potter was still unknown and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named thought that lack of knowledge was due to Snape’s failure as a spy.
And it helped to know that if he was going to his death at this meeting, someone would be concerned for him.
The look in her brown eyes assured him at least one soul cared. Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, holding back some words, but as he reached the door, she whispered, “Do be careful, Severus.”
He looked back and for once, did not have a sarcastic comment to offer. Instead, he took in the picture she made, standing by the cauldron. Hermione Granger would be turning twenty-one in a few short weeks. The stain of student had been removed in the past few months. In fact he had a difficult time recognizing this slim, composed woman as the bushy-haired know-it-all with the constantly raised hand.
Nodding sharply, he walked out of the Potions classroom and went down an unused hallway. Snape could have requested a Portkey to his Apparation point from Albus, however, he used the walk for time to clear his mind and emotions. His Dark Master allowed him a little time from the summons to his actual appearance.
Once he navigated the maze of hallways, he exited the castle through an unmarked door and began walking briskly to his Apparation point where he had hidden and warded his Death Eater garb. At the point, he unwarded a tree stump and gave a complex password. It swung open to reveal black velvet robes, an opalescent white mask and a pair of fine black leather gloves. Snape waved his wand and the hated uniform was on his body. Quickly, he shoved up his left sleeve and touched the mark with his wand, instantly Apparating him to the latest site the Dark Lord had chosen.
“Master,” he said in a reverent whisper, falling to one knee, with his head bowed low. It was the right note of obsequious touched with still a bit of Pureblood pride.
“Late again, Severus?” his Dark Master asked, mildly as he came to stand in front of the Potions master.
“I am sorry, my lord,” he began when he heard the word “Crucio” ring out in the grove. Agony ripped through Snape’s body and he fell heavily onto the ground as his muscles contracted in painful spasms. How long he was held under that torturous spell, he did not know. Time ceases to have meaning when one is in a nightmare of pain. Finally, the curse was lifted.
“I care nothing for your pitiful excuses,” The Dark Lord sneered. “I want results. Where is Potter?”
“My lord, I do not know,” Snape said and tried to relax his trembling muscles. Crucio was harder if one tensed to prepare for it.
Instead, the Dark Lord waited while Nagini slithered towards him. “Go on,” his master said in an encouraging tone. “Tell me why you have failed me.”
“Only Dumblebore,” Snape spat out the name derisively, “knows the prat’s location.”
“And the Mudblood slut?” his lord queried with mock gentleness. “She’s one of his closest friends. Why doesn’t she know where he is?”
“Master, all correspondence is sent through that thrice-damned phoenix. Dumblebore is the secret keeper and he has told no one.” Snape kept his head down, prepared for another dose of Cruciatus curse.
“Do you still treat the Mudblood the same way you did when she was your worthless student?”
“How else could I treat the unworthy bitch, my lord?” Snape murmured bitterly. There was silence for a moment as Nagini began slithering in a circle around them.
Snape felt the weight of the Dark Lord’s hand caressing his head. “There is an old saying, Severus, ‘one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar.’ Do you understand that meaning?”
Snape acted as if confused. “You want me to… be nice to that Mudblood bitch?” There was a trace of incredulousness in his voice by the end of the sentence.
“Are you loyal to me, Severus?”
“Yes, Master, with my very soul.”
“Do you love me as your Master?”
“With all my heart, my lord,” Snape lied effortlessly.
“If I give you an order that is… unpleasant, would you follow it?”
“Without hesitation, Master.”
“Seduce her.”
“Master?” Snape asked without thinking.
“Fuck the slut if you must, Severus. Get close to her and find out all you can.” There was a trace of bitter venom in the Dark Lord’s voice. “Use her to get to Potter.”
Snape paused for a moment, considering his best response. “If that is what my lord desires, so it shall be.”
“Good, Severus.” The hand was removed from his head and for a moment, Snape thought the Dark Lord would pat him like a dog, but instead he moved away. “Should you fail, I shall have to use other methods.” Even though the tone was mild, Snape knew the threat hidden in it. “Go now. Begin to work on the Mudblood whore.”
Snape stood to Disapparate.
“Oh, one more thing, Severus,” his Dark Master proclaimed. “Train her well and we will all enjoy her when her usefulness is done.”
Bowing his head, Snape said, “It will be as you wish, Master,” and Disapparated.
“Oh my, Severus,” Albus Dumbledore murmured from behind his desk, a troubled look in his blue eyes.
“I do not know how to proceed,” Snape said, allowing bitterness to encroach in his voice. “If I do not pretend to accede to this demand…”
“He will kill you,” Albus said simply.
“But she’s a child,” Snape protested, his voice raising in disapproval.
“She will be twenty-one in a few short months, Severus,” Albus reminded him. “And I do believe that is an adult. She should be included in this decision.”
“Headmaster,” he remonstrated again, but was cut off.
“No, Severus,” Albus said firmly. “She has a right to know.” With that, the elderly wizard stood and walked to the fireplace. “Potions Lab,” he called out after tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the flames. “Hermione, would you please step through and bring a vial of muscle relaxant with you.”
“Is Severus all right?” she asked with great concern a few moments later as she stepped through the fireplace.
“I am fine, Hermione,” he replied even as Albus was saying, “He was put under the Cruciatus curse.”
“Oh my,” she murmured as she raced to his side to hand him the vial. Snape took it with a hand that shook slightly. Hermione had uncapped it in her usual, meticulous way, so all he had to do was raise the vial to his thin lips and pour the liquid down his throat.
As he swallowed the vile concoction, his eyes met hers and he was shocked by the depth of distress he saw. For a brief moment, something twisted inside of him. Whether it was his heart, his conscience, or his soul, he did not know. But he found he could ignore it.
Albus ushered her into a chair and told her what had transpired at the latest meeting. Severus sat quietly with his head bowed, watching her through the curtain of his hair.
At first, she went pale, then blushed. Only when Albus finished talking did she look at Snape.
“I’m so sorry, Severus,” she said softly. “Would it be any help if I leave?”
“You will be hunted down as soon as word gets out,” Snape told her bitterly. “And I am a dead man.”
“No!” she said sharply and he could see her mind beginning to work. “Surely the Dark Lord doesn’t think this will happen instantaneously, does he?”
“He did specify ‘seduce,’” Severus murmured with his head still down. “I am certain I can play this along for some time. Classes are going to start soon. We do have a…” he looked up with a slight twitch of his lips that might be a smile, “somewhat rocky past.”
Hermione smiled at him.
“I will allow you some privacy to work out the details, then,” Albus said, but shot a sharp glance at Snape.
“Miss Granger,” Severus told her before the door shut behind the Headmaster. “I cannot allow you to do this, though.” With a click, the Headmaster was gone. “I am afraid you do not understand the implications.”
“It’s Hermione, Severus,” she said firmly, her jaw jutting out. “My name is Hermione. And if I don’t play along, they’ll kill you.”
He slowly raised his head, careful to keep his expression impassive. “I do not believe you truly understand, Hermione,” he said in the gentlest tone he could possibly manufacture. “It means… we would have to… be closer.”
“I understand, Sir,” she said in a low voice. “And it might be necessary for us to be… intimate.” This time, she was the one looking at the carpet.
“I understand that thought might be… repulsive to you,” Snape muttered, giving some self-loathing to his words.
“Oh no, Severus,” she cried with alarm, looking at him horrified. “It’s just that…” She averted her gaze before she whispered, “I just don’t have much… experience.” Then added with some bitterness, “I’ll probably end up being a spinster,” and gave a short, derisive laugh.
“I would not count on that, Hermione,” Snape replied in a soft voice. No, I would not wager on that, my dear. he thought to himself. I shall wed you and bed you, though it might not end up in that order.
“You are an intelligent, comely witch,” he said smoothly, allowing all his Slytherin charm to seep in his words. “I am certain many a wizard would be proud to have you as a wife.”
“Please, Severus,” she told him, holding up her hand. “I’m a Mudblood. I realize my options are, shall we say, limited?”
He snorted. “Then they are fools and you are better off without them.”
“How will he know you’re following orders?” she asked quietly.
“The Dark Lord is skilled at Legilimency, Hermione,” he said in a controlled voice. “I allow him access to certain portions of my mind, while holding some thoughts back.”
“So he would essentially see us together,” she mused, then blushed at the implications.
“And he does have his own spies here as well. They would be quick to report whether or not his plan seemed to be succeeding.”
“We could stage some dates,” she mused. “A few trips to Diagon Alley, perhaps a Potions lecture… dinner?” She looked anxiously at him. “What do you think about that?”
“It seems acceptable,” he murmured. “But there may have to be more than a few ‘dates.’”
Slowly, Hermione stood and walked over to him in his chair. “If it saves your life, it’s well worth it.”
She bent down and placed her lips on top of his. Her kiss was innocent, chaste and he allowed it, not responding but not stopping her either. When she pulled back, she looked dejected. “I’m sorry. I told you I wasn’t very experienced.”
Again, there came that twisting feeling inside of his body. This one was harder to ignore. He pulled her back to him and this time, he controlled the kiss, running one hand through her hair to cup the back of her head. His lips parted atop hers and his tongue lightly traced her lips until she opened to him. As he explored her mouth, he noticed the sweet taste of her, a mixture of innocence and purity. When he ended the kiss and released her, Snape tried to make himself believe the trembling he felt was the after-effects of Cruciatus.
She looked dazed, awed as she raised a hand to touch her kiss-swollen lips. Her eyes were unfocused and he fought the urge to smirk as she swallowed convulsively.
“Are you certain you wish to proceed, Hermione?” he asked, lacing his question with gentle concern. Snape knew he had given Hermione her first real kiss.
“I… I… well, yes, of course,” she answered almost absently.
“Then we will proceed with your plan. Perhaps you should return to your rooms and rest,” he said, still mastering gentleness in his tone. “I shall stay and finish my report to Albus, when he returns.”
She walked slowly to the Floo and took a pinch of powder from the mug. Tossing it into the fire, she said in a low voice, “Hermione Granger’s rooms,” as she walked into the green fire.
Once she was gone, Snape sat for a few moments thinking. Yes, Hermione Granger was easy to manipulate with her Gryffindor sensibilities, he thought smugly.
When one serves two masters, it is always a balancing act. Even though his loyalties were with Albus, he still attended him as a servant. The Dark Lord lost him years ago. However, even when one serves two masters, there comes that rare occasion when they end up serving their servant.
Yes, the latest dish from my rabid plot bunny. Personally, I think he’s drinking, however, he did whisper this latest exchange to me. My plot bunnies look a bit down and peaked. Perhaps you’d consider helping them by saying ‘hi.’ If not here, then feed someone’s plot bunnies, please!