Same thing...Not mine, my English lefts much to be desired, and so does my plot (Fleur out of the picture without any explanation whatsoever, Mary Hermione Sue, feelings developing at abnormal speedI - just didn’t want another eternal fic)… but hopefully, it is entertaining enough. Sorry I forgot about it for so long, and thanks so much for your reviews.

- - - - -

She woke up sometime later. She didn’t move a muscle, just startled awake, with the cold fear that she had just fallen asleep, that Snape would cancel their deal. That he would kill her friends, and it would be her fault. She remained motionless until she figured out what it was that felt strange.

There was another body next to hers. Someone was breathing softly next to her hair. Worse, someone’s arms were holding her very strongly, the right one sneaking from under her right breast all the way to her bare shoulder, the other one surrounding her waist. She knew it was him. He smelt faintly of white musk, a smell she had used to like but that was now so deeply associated with him in her mind that it made her afraid. Still, she didn’t move. She wasn’t sure she wanted to wake him, or to have to face him in such an awkward position. God. Was this her former Potions Master, the one that held her so possessively? It felt strange, but most surprisingly, it didn't feel completely wrong. In a very distanct part of her, the student shouted in triumph that this man was the only professor who had never acknowledged her brains, and now, he wanted her. She felt a distanct wave of powerfulness, of matureness and beauty. She silenced it, though, angry at herself for harboring such stupid ideas, when probably all the man wanted was to hurt her, and returned to the present, embarrasing situation, and to the possible mess she had just gotten her friends into by falling asleep.

But it turned out she shouldn’t have worried at all.

“Go back to sleep” he hissed.

She wondered how he had felt her wake up. She wondered if he was angry.

“But… my friends?”

“They will be ok. Just go back to sleep, Miss Granger.”

It was weird, being hold like that, so tight it felt like they were one, and being called Miss Granger, she thought as the relief of hearing he hadn’t punished her friends for her negligence made her shiver. He very well could have killed them, and her, so primitive was her position.

“Thank you” she whispered

“Shh, just sleep now” he answered, pulling her even closer.

It took her barely seconds to fall asleep again, despite the fact that she was being embraced by possiblly the most evil of all the Death Eaters, Dumbledore's murderer and her former professor. Still she had time to wonder about the man.

What did he really want from her?

- - - - - - - - -

Morning found her alone in bed. Snape was nowhere to be seen, although the bed still bore the creases his body had left. No note, no anything. The door wasn’t locked. Did he trust her that much? And why not, she said to herself. He knew she wouldn’t go far away. An unlocked door seemed just ahis way of mocking her.

She took a shower, making sure first that the door to the bathroom was firmly secured. She didn’t know why, but it gave her an odd sense of relief and safety. Soon, the room was filled with hot vapor and the smell of soap. There were all kinds of soaps, and she could swear had been put there for her benefit. They were decidedly feminine and unopened. She felt a bit better afterwards, and she decided what she wanted to do. She wanted to check on her friends. She wasn’t sure what they had been told, if anything at all, but certainly she wouldn’t want them to ever learn about the deal she had made. However, she wanted them to be sure she was alright. So she tiptoed out of the room and tried to find her way through the corridor.

Finnegan appeared out of nowhere.

“The missus is up” he said. “Master said missus had to have breakfast”

“I’m not hungry” she said automatically.

“He told Finnegan it was part of the deal. He said missus know” the elf complained.

“Very well, then” she said, tiredly. Why not, it was only breakfast. There was no reason to starve herself over the bloody thing. And, if she had to be true, she still felt a childish unease at putting the house elf in a compromising position by arguing an order of his Master’s.

She followed the elf to the room she had seen the former evening, and by the end of her breakfast she was very happy she had done so. Coffee always made her see things a lot clearer. She got up and opened the door of the room, and Finnegan just popped before her.

“Yes, missus?”

“Oh, I was just…”

“Master said missus could go wherever missus want in the house”

“Oh… great, thank you, Finnegan”

“But Master said Dorian has to go with missus”

“Dorian? Who is Dorian?”

“I am Dorian” spoke a low male voice behind her.

The guard who had escorted her there the night before had appeared out of nowhere.

“Oh” she said.

“I guess you will want to see your friends” he said. She could swear she read sympathy in his eyes.

“Yes”

“Follow me, then”

It took them longer than the previous night.

“Do you work for him, Dorian?” she asked

“I am not allowed to speak about that.”

“What’s he like?”

“I am sorry, Miss, but haven’t you been acquainted with him for seven years?”

“Six. But he looks different, now.”

“Does he?”

“Somehow. What is he like?”

“I wouldn’t know. Nobody would. He is distant and cold, and he likes to keep private. He is rarely around for a long time. He is not like others I have known. He, unlike them, never liked engaging in… games, in… except…” he trailed off.

“Except this time, you mean?”

He nodded

“What is he playing at, anyway, Dorian?”

The guard looked away.

“We are here, Miss”

He leaded her in, and closed the door behind her.

- - - - - - -

After walking through the corridors in the dark, it took her a while to distinguish the forms of her friends. The first thing she saw was Bill Weasley, because his red hair came flaming behind him as he pulled her into an embrace so tight it made her remember Snape’s arms around her body the night before. She felt so embarrassed she nearly pulled apart; she didn’t want them to know; she didn’t think she could take it.

“Hermione, what’s up? What happened to you? Are you ok? What did he do to you?” the redhead asked her without letting her go. She enjoyed the hug a bit more. It was nice, it was clean, it was uncomplicated.

She let out a soft laugh.

“Now I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of endless questions”

They smiled.

“What happened to you?”

It came from Lupin this time. He looked sicker than ever, and Tonks was tending to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

“I am ok. Profes… ahm, Snape wanted to discuss some matters with me. About a potion.”

“Overnight?” Lupin asked, suspiciously.

“I guess he knew it would work better if I was isolated from you” she said.

“We were worried, you know” Ginny said. She couldn’t put the finger on what it was, but she could swear there was something different about her friend. “Are you ok, Hermione?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“So, any ideas as to how to get out of here?” Bill asked. “No more heroics” he warned her.

“I am afraid I have to go back” she told him, without looking him in the eye.

“Back? What do you mean, back? Back where?”

“Snape needs my assistance in a project”

“And you are helping him, Hermione? Are you mad?!” Ron shouted.

“Ron” Bill said. “Hermione, are you sure you will be ok? Do you know what you are doing? Is he coercing you into helping him in something?”

“Well, obviously I wouldn’t help him otherwise” she smiled “but I think it is a pretty good opportunity for me to try and guess what he is working on right now. I am alright, Bill, and I will be fine” she said smiling. “Plus, I get to sleep in a warm room with a bed,” she avoided mentioning just whose room, whose bed it was “so I can even say I am better off than you guys here” she stared at Bill’s hand, that had just caught hers and has stroking it affectionately. He was searching her face, and she knew he was good at reading her, and she could feel her heart pounding wildly as she lied to him. “Honest, Bill, I am ok”

Still, he didn’t free her hand until Dorian came back for her and took her back to her room. Snape’s room. Their room, she guessed, shuddering. He looked at her one last time, as if she were going to be devoured by the lion next, and closed the door behind him.

He made his way back to the dungeons, shaking his head. He did not know where this would lead to. His master was effective and lethal when he chose to, but he was not cruel. He didn’t play with prisoners, that’s why he worked with him, and not with the others. He wasn’t sure he liked this change. He was definitely sorry for the nice girl up there. Whatever he was doing, his master was a powerful, strong-willed wizard who knew how to get what he wanted. And given what he had heard the night before, what he wanted was just her.

Back in the dungeons, two of the redheads were having an argument. He liked the oldest one, the one with the scar on his face; he thought the scar gave him a great air, and he wished he could manage his wild, wolfish look, with his bone earring in one ear and his ponytail. He didn’t like the youngest one very much. Right now, as he went in with some breakfast, he was just saying that Hermione, who seemed to be the nice brunette, was getting the good part of the deal by helping Snape, not having to spend her time in that pestilent place, and how she was probably still trying to get Snape to realize how good she was, given how she had always been a bit of a sycophant.

The third redhead, a girl, got up before the oldest one could calm down enough to respond and slapped the youngest boy. Dorian thought he definitely liked this particular one. And she was very pretty, too. He smiled at her, but she didn’t respond. He shrugged; it wasn’t as if they had met in a bar, he thought. But before he left, Dorian faced the young redhead guy.

“That girl up there” he said simply, glaring at him “that girl just sold her soul to the devil. For you all.” He left the tray in the floor and closed the iron door behind him, respelling it.

He knew he shouldn’t have said that; his master would be angry if he ever found out. But Dorian was mostly a good boy, who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it was royaly pissing him off that the redhead kept talking about the girl upstairs on that tone, when he knew what was probably going to happen to her. He just felt it was the right thing, the only thing he could do for that nice girl on the master’s room.

And, the redhead girl positively smiled at him this time.

- - - - - -

Hermione was bored. She was nervous, she was scared, but above all, she was tired of waiting in tension for something bad to happen. So she opened the door of the room and walked down the corridor. For the time she heard the steps, it was too late.

She felt a hand closing over her wrist in an iron grip, and she felt Viktor Krum’s breath in her face.

“So that is why” he said, with his once so funny Bulgarian accent. “you… you just wanted to move up to bigger and better things, didn’t you?”

“No Viktor” she said “that’s not how I think. I just didn’t want you”

“Well, we’ll see that now. He’s not the only one who can have a plaything. Let's see how you like this.”

Hermione struggled, but he was way stronger. He pinned her against the wall with his right hand and his right leg and tried to open her shirt. She bit him, and he groaned furiously, and slapped her hard on the face.

"I'm going to..."

Suddenly, the pressure of Krum’s body disappeared. He seemed as surprised as she when a very angry looking Snape pulled him by his robe and without losing his composure he held his wand to his throat.

"Do please keep on, Mr. Krum" he said to a terrified Viktor. "Please let's hear what grand things you had prepared today for Miss. Granger"

"She is a Mudblood"

“Mudblood or not, you don’t hit ladies” he said, silkily. Hermione shuddered. "Especially, not when they are here at my request. Apologize, Mr. Krum”

“I won’t”

“Very well, then. Crucio”

“No!” shouted Hermione, as Viktor’s body twisted in pain on the floor.

“Finnite incantatem” Snape muttered. “Apologize, Mr. Krum”

“I…”

Snape raised his wand.

“Please, don’t!” Hermione begged.

“I will not tolerate that kind of behavior among my men, Miss Granger. If you cannot watch discipline, please leave. Apologize, Mr. Krum”

“I am sorry” he said, and looking at Snape, he quickly added "Hermione"

“That’s ok” she said, in an anguished tone.

Snape turned his back on Krum and directed her back into the room, with his hand against her back.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She nodded, still shaking.

They got into the room, and there was an awkward moment until Hermione decided to sit on the bed while he paced.

“It seems, Miss Granger, that we have encountered a problem in our deal”

She remained silent. What? Was he mad that she had fallen asleep the night before, then? Or was he angry that she had seen her friends? Perhaps… perhaps he knew how Bill had held her… It didn’t mean a thing, it really… because it didn’t… what was she thinking, that Snape was jealous? That was outright hilarious. Maybe he was just expecting that she…participated a bit more in the whole thing?

It turned out it was nothing like that.

“I am forced to attend a formal dinner in a few hours” he clarified. “We never talked about anybody else getting to see you, but I would very much appreciate your company tonight”

“Of course” she said, quickly. That was easy. That, she could do.

“Some people in this reunion might not be of your liking” he warned her. She guessed he meant they were Death Eaters.

“As long as that does not cause trouble for you”

“Oh, it won’t” he smirked, obviously finding her suggestion very amusing. “All set then. I will have Finnegan coming up with a selection of adequate clothes. I will wait downstairs; we will be leaving around seven”

“O… ok” she said.

She stared at the closed door.

How much weirder could the whole thing get?

She was just about to discover.

She descended the stairs slowly, trying not to lose her balance over the heels of her sandals. The dress was the beautiful, and her hair was tied up in a nice bun Finnegan had surprisingly helped with. All in all, she felt older, and she felt nice. She wasn’t sure as to how that was going to help her in a Death Eater’s gathering. She wasn’t even sure it was even a good idea for a muggleborn to look nice in one of those meetings. She had given the matter a lot of thought. She really didn’t think Snape was setting a trap for her, but he might well be. Well, if he was, she hoped she could get hold of a wand quick enough to cast a killing curse on herself, because it could get very nasty.

She hated waiting for the catch to Snape just trying... trying to seduce her?

Then, she entered the living room and saw him standing by the fire, a glass of firewhiskey in his right hand, a book on the other.

He was wearing muggle clothes. Muggle clothes. He was dressed in black, wearing a black suit with a light grey shirt and a black tie. She nearly laughed, but then she thought that wouldn’t be very polite. And he didn’t look bad. Right out of a Tarantino film, she thought vaguely. Just so… unsnape.

He turned around.

“Miss Granger” he helped her into the room, and she still couldn't help shivering at the touch of his long fingers.

She was a bit disappointed he didn’t comment on her appearance, but again, wasn’t that the man who had killed Dumbledore, taken lead of the Death Eaters, kidnapped and threatened her friends and blackmailed her into his bed? Why on Earth would she want him to compliment her?

“You look nice” she said, trying to be polite. Truth was, he hadn’t asked that much of her so far, so a bit of politeness wasn't that big an effort..

He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

They left the house. From the outside, it seemed like a mansion. But Hermione would bet anything they were the only ones able to watch it right then. It was most likely unplottable. And it had antiapparition charms, too, so they had to get to the road to Disapparate. And that they just did. Snape held her close, muttered a word, and they were gone.

- - - - - - - - -

Hermione’s fears seemed unfounded. She didn’t recognize anybody in the party, although a couple of faces did sound familiar to her, but most importantly, nobody seemed to recognize her. And if they did, nobody seemed to question Snape’s choice of a partner. Apparently, nobody questioned anything Snape said or did at all, that much was evident throughout the dinner.

They were in a restaurant. She didn’t know in which city or in which street, because they had apparated right next to the restrooms. Their table held twelve people, and it was set in a private room. She could not help wondering. Who were those people? Were they Death Eaters? Obviously, they had to be criminals, to meet with an outcast like Snape. Did they support Voldemort? Would they be so nice to her if they just knew who she was? Would they help her escape and get her friends if she told them? Of course, that was out of the question, but…

She soon engaged in conversation with an elderly man to her right, and forgot about everything, while Snape discussed something heatedly with two other men The old man seemed nice, and he ended up showing her wizarding pictures of his grandson. She smiled broadly, and when she looked up, she realized Snape was openly staring at her with an intense gaze from the other end of the table.

Later, they all stood up and chatted, while two men dressed in white went among them with trays full of drinks. Snape didn’t seem to care for small talk, but that was one of the few things that didn’t surprise Hermione at all. He was now slowly working through a whisky, while a frantic looking man dressed in a dark suit spoke to him in a corner of the room. She just managed fine. People obviously wondered about her relationship to the former Potions Master, but it seemed as if nobody dared to say a word. Which was just as well.

She felt Snape’s gaze on her again- and she was starting to wonder whether he was just keeping an eye on her- but she kept on talking to a tall, dark haired man with a strong foreign accent, who was just asking if she had ever visited Bulgaria, nearly making her choke over her drink.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her arm.

“I think it is time we get back” said Snape, looking intently at her.

She blushed.

“As you wish” she said, aware of the look some of the people in the room were throwing her. It was, she reflected, astonished, a look of respect. As if she was acompanying the king of Persia or something like that. They would only have needed to bow to make that impression more real. She shook her head, baffled.

He escorted her out of the room, and passed his arm around her shoulders again, and held her for slightly longer than she would have thought necessary. With a crack, they were off, back in front of the old mansion where her friends were. And she suddenly felt she could not go through this without seeing who she was doing it for once again. She looked up at him, and found his gaze on her.

“Do you think I could… check on them? Really quick? Without they seeing me?”

Snape didn’t say a thing, but he directed her toward the dungeon. He cast a spell in the dark, and she could suddenly watch her friends through the door. Remus and Bill were talking softly, and although Remus looked way better than he had that very morning, he still looked tired.

“Remus” she whispered, worried.

“Wolfsbane will take some time, but it will make him feel better” Snape said neutrally.

“You brew Wolfsbane” she said, not questioning.

“That, Miss Granger, is my part of the deal, keeping them alive. Enough with the observation. Are you satisfied that they are alright?”

“Yes” she said.

He followed her upstairs into the living room, where he poured himself a glass of firewhisky.

“Would you care for a drink?”

She thought it might help her loosen up.

“Yes, actually I would enjoy a glass of that” she pointed to his own glass.

He smirked. It was painfully obvious, she guessed, she just needed alcohol to get over the whole thing. But who cared.

She drank it slowly; it burnt her throat, but it made her feel warm inside, and helped her shaking stop a bit. She watched the liquid swirl in her glass; and when she looked up, she found those enigmatic obsidian eyes upon her yet once again.

“Shall we go upstairs?” he asked without averting his gaze.

She nodded, unable to speak.

He held the door open for her, and she sat on the edge of the bed, expectantly. He started undoing his tie and hanging it up on the wardrobe, ignoring her.

And suddenly, she found out that she didn’t want to be ignored.

Was there something in the whisky? Had she just gone mad? Apparently she had; something in the man undressing in front of her was making her feel dizzy.

He seemed to remember her, and turned around. Delicately, he kneeled by her and undid the straps in her sandals, putting them away. He made her stand, in front of him, and held her gaze while he pulled the straps of her dress down, baring her shoulders. The dress fell off, revealing her underwear, and she pressed herself against him, shaking violently; it was getting a bit chilly, and she was slightly ashamed.

But he separated her, and bent his head to kiss her neck and she thought she had never felt anything like that before in her whole life. Forgetting where she was and who she was with, she just pulled his head back and kissed him. Her tongue went softly into his mouth and she could swear he was kissing her back, but suddenly, he pushed her away. He turned around not to face her.

“What… what is wrong?” she asked, anxiously

“Pick up your things, Miss Granger” he said, his voice still husky. “You are leaving”

“What?”

“You heard me. I want you out of here. Now”

“But”

“Out”

Hermione realized with panic that she was going to cry.

She stood there by the door half naked and holding a the bundle that was her dress for a few seconds before she could channel her tears into anger.

“I don’t know if it was the whole point of your game” she said in a quivering voice “but if you were trying to humiliate me, which I suppose you were, you did a great job. I’ve never felt worse in my whole life.”

“You don’t understand” he said, his voice ragged, heavy with something new “I am offering you a way out. You can leave now. You and your friends will be free tomorrow morning.”

“Why?”

He turned around at that.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want to coerce you into this. Not now. And if you don't leave right now, it will be too late.”

“But I want it. I want you”

“You want me?” he said incredulously.

She thought about that. His hands on her felt as if her whole body was on fire. Did she want that? Incredibly, she did. Right now, she wasn’t Hermione Granger, just graduating from Hogwarts. She felt like a different person. And she liked that person. It didn’t matter right now that it was complicated. It didn’t matter why she was feeling that. She had finally, she guessed, fallen into his trap. Stockholm syndrome, drunkenness, a curse, she didn’t much care. All that mattered was getting him to touch her again.

“Yes”

“You want me??”

“Yes!” she repeated, heatedly.

He closed the distance between them in just a step, and he kissed her, pushing her towards the bed. His strong hands caressed her arms, her back, her neck. She slowly started undoing his buttons, but he just let out a groan of impatience and broke the remaining ones, trying to free himself from the shirt. His hair fell around his face and he fixed a wild gaze on the girl beneath him, and Hermione thought she had never seen something so fierce. He looked handsome, perhaps a bit scary even.

But he was very gentle, so gentle that she found this man very hard to reconcile with the Severus Snape she had once known. He undid her brassier first, and caressed the soft skin of her breasts, descending down to kiss her navel, and then even lower, until Hermione forgot everything around them, even herself, and abandoned herself to the feelings and sensations he was provoking.

However, at one point, he stopped dead.

“You are..." it wasn't a question.

“I know. It is ok.” She assured him. It would be ok as long as he kept moving.

“But” he objected.

She kissed him silent, and he started moving again, slowly, more carefully even, while his right hand went up to caress her cheek. She rubbed her face against his hand, and then buried her own hands in his hair. Very suddenly, a wave of something came to her and she moaned so loud he had to smile.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She nodded, speechless, and held him tighter.

She lost track of everything again, and just when she thought she could stand it no longer, her senses seemed to explode, and soon she felt him go stiff too and mutter something right next to her ear. She could not make out what it was, but she just liked to think it was her name, which was highly unlikely.

He was holding her, still looking wild in the darkness. She was still shaking a bit.

“You should have told me” he said, bitterly.

“You didn’t ask.”

He nodded.

“It was good” she said.

“Shouldn’t have been like this”

“I think this is exactly what it should have been like, thank you very much”

He said nothing, but kept holding her even after she had stopped shaking.

“I think you should try to sleep” he suggested. “You and your friends will be leaving on the morning. I will trust your discretion”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She said.

That was probably the best she was going to get out of him, his grand gesture. And she thought she should correspond. Maybe it had all been a play trying to get her there. She didn’t much care anymore. Her life was completely upside down; hadn’t she just slept with her ex Potions professor?

So she took a decision. It was only fair. One thing for another.

“Mercury”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The ingredient you need. It is mercury”

It wasn’t a destructive potion anyway. It wouldn’t help the Order that the other ones had it too, but it wouldn’t kill them.

“How---?” he looked genuinely surprised, and she knew that didn't happen often.

“You just slept with the Order newest Potion expert” she said softly, hoping he wouldn’t kill her then and there.

“I… see” he said, taken aback, and maybe the slightest bit awed. “I see. You realize, Miss Granger, that that complicates things a whole damn lot”

She wasn’t used to hear him swearing. She nodded.

“I am supposed to find you. I am supposed to kill you, you know that?” he said bitterly.

“I imagined something of the sort”

“Why did you tell me, then?”

“Well, you are being most generous with your part of the bargain. I thought I should correspond”

He groaned, and held her tight.

"Typically Gryffindor." he hissed.“We will think of something.”

She nodded, and found that she trusted him.

“Tomorrow”

She nodded again.

He sighted, and watched her until she fell asleep, trusting the man who had been appointed to kill her. He passed his fingers through her hair, then, while thought how to get out of the stupid situation he had gotten himself into.

He had seen how Bill Weasley looked at her. With Fleur now out of the picture, he would take care of the girl. He would make sure of that.

- - - - - - - - - -

The following morning, Hermione woke up alone. She was directed downstairs to her friends, and Dorian disapparated them somewhere unknown deep into a forest. They walked for a day and a half. They were hungry, dirty, thirsty and tired. They were alive.

And Hermione could swear someone was watching her all the time.

That feeling never went away. She enrolled in Oxford that same fall, and if followed her there. Sometimes she could swear she felt his presence at the Bodleian library while she studied. She felt it the first time she went on a date, trying desperately to forget that one encounter, trying to tell to herself that she had tricked her into feeling something that she didn’t feel. She knew it wasn’t true, and even if it was, the feeling was there now, sick or not.

She felt his presence during the two months her relationship with Bill Wesley lasted, and the three times Bill proposed; it was there the last one, which she accepted because she was tired of waiting and searching and of him not wanting her to find him.

She got to talk to him when she thought Bill wasn’t listening, too.

Bill shook his head sometimes when she didn’t see him. She thought he didn’t know she still talked to him from time to time. She thought he hadn’t seen him dressed fully in black across the road for a few seconds, checking on her. She loved Bill, Bill knew that and it was good enough for him, but he knew it was three to their relationship, and even marriage wouldn’t change that. He didn’t care, as long as he could have her next to him; he was decided to marry her and make her forget. He wished he had protected her better back them. He looked at her through the window. She looked beautiful. He shook his head, and went out to bring her back inside. She followed him, without seeing the dark figure far beyond the garden.

The figure frowned. He was no longer happy with the solution he had found some months ago. He would wait. But in the end, he always got what he wanted. And, although this still surprised him very much, and he could not find any explanation whatsoever for it, what he wanted was her.

the end