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Enter Sandman	By : LadySnape Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 6917 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
First Step
By Lady Snape

disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters from Harry Potter and the universe from which they are derived belong to J.K. Rowling. I just am taking them out to play. The song "Enter the Sandman" is by Metallica.

With a crack like lightning, the elves were gone, leaving their master to study his now trembling charge. Standing there in her torn nightgown, Hermione felt none-the-less naked under her Potions professor's scrutiny.

The departure of the house elves ignited a rush of sensations in Hermione, without realizing it she shook with the force of it. Through a haze she caught the motion of her teacher gesturing her to follow him, numbly she did. Her vision began to blur as she tried to focus on her potions professor’s retreating back, momentarily seeing silvery blond hair where black should be. Tightly shutting her eyes her mind screamed, "No!! It can’t be!!" before opening them to stare at the man with black hair ahead of her. A bit lightheaded and feeling like she was moving through water, she was barely able to concentrate on the rippling of his cloak as it billowed in his wake. Slowly she followed him down the length of the hall, just managing to catch herself, stopping just in time to tread on the edge of his robes. Shuffling backwards, she felt her energy draining away from her, finding solace and support from uncannily warm stone wall. Fighting a losing battle against her body’s need for rest, Hermione leaned against the wall as snippet’s of conversation slipped past her ears.

"Notty—placement—" Professor Snape hissed at some unseen elf, blocked by her teachers imposing presence. "I’s sorry master, Notty will remember." She heard a house elf murmur, then in a hushed voice, "Master Snape sir, the Lady’s room is ready, sir. Notty has provided garments as you have ordered as well." A room—oh yes please Hermione thought briefly as her body won the fight, passing out against the stones without nary another thought.

As in a dream, Hermione felt herself floating in a cloud of aromatic spices. Shifting and swaying her body hung limply over something hard that she couldn’t quite make out. She felt so tired, she didn’t have the will to fight anymore—her parents were dead.

Through a haze Hermione saw a snatched of green light, pulsating with each beat of thunder. She wasn’t sure what was happening, she only knew that she needed to hide, needed to get away before it was too late. She tried to bury herself deep in the blankets, pulling them close. Whipcrack! Another flash and her blankets were gone, in their place, clawing knarled branches were cradling her, tearing at her. Hermione struggled to free herself; throwing herself down on her stomach, she crawled wide-eyed screaming, "Stop! No! Please" The wooden fingertips dug into her carving huge gouges down her back; struggling, she managed to escape, running straight into the arms of a masked specter. "AAAAAhhhh!" she shrieked, struggling to remove herself from his grasp, seeing only the sleight grey eyes peering down at her as a voice crowed, "Ah she likes the dark".

A shriek ripped through her sleep, gurgling from her tightly clamped lips, jolting her awake. Dazed and sticky with a sheen of sweat covering her, Hermione woke to find herself tangled amongst soft satin sheets, a comforter dangling off the end of the bed. Sitting up, she looked around slowly, trying to figure out where she was. Through the dim light from floating candles she was able to make out that she was in a rather decadent bedroom. Shades of red complemented each of the furnishings throughout the room. A fine ebony wardrobe was nestled in one corner of the room, inlaid with padauk dragon designs. Coupled with the wardrobe, a claw footed secretary held dominance near a picture window while a pair of nightstands stood guard beside the bed.

Sliding her feet from the mass of sheets, she slid herself off the side of the bed landing on a thick Egyptian rug. Taking a small step, Hermione sighed in relief that she had more strength than she felt and made her way to a door that she had spied next to the wardrobe, hoping it was a bathroom. Grasping the handle she pulled the heavy door gingerly, opening it to reveal indeed a bathroom, stocked with everything she could possibly need or want. Thankful that she wouldn’t need to find her unlikely benefactor just yet, Hermione dived into the task of ridding herself of the muck that she saw for the first time in the beveled mirror that took up one corner of the room.

The image staring back at her shocked her. Standing in her place a wraith of a girl stood, bloodshot eyes stood out from the dark circles streaked with dirty tear tracks. Her hair lay in clumps about her face, matted with vomit and dirt from earlier. Her hand came to her face, gingerly tracing her tear stained cheeks, moving along the length of her neck to stop amid the tattered remains of her nightgown. Following the path of her hand with her eyes in the mirror, Hermione sneered in disgust at her image.

"Fool! You bloody fool!" she hissed vehemently, "How could you let him do this to you? To your parents?!" She raved at the image, slumping forward against the sink she whispered dejectedly, "Why did you have to like it when he touched you? What is wrong with you—me?" Hermione muttered as she slid down onto the warm floor, her head in her hands.

Some time later Hermione made for the tub, filling it nearly to the top with hot water, she climbed in submersing herself with an audible sigh. Mechanically she washed herself, diligently scrubbing until she felt satisfied that any traces of the previous evening was removed from her. Leaning back into the water, Hermione pondered her situation. She was supposedly Snape’s ‘toy’. Not exactly sure about what was going to happen, she sighed as she stood up and grabbed a towel, slowly drying herself. Not wanting Dumbledore to know how she reacted to the Death Eaters, Hermione shrugged as she left the bathroom hoping to tell Snape, make him understand her need to keep the events hidden long enough to make sense of what happened for herself.

Going straight the wardrobe, Hermione flung it open in search of clothes, remembering what the elf had said, she found some outdated robes oddly still fresh and apparently in her size. In the tray next to the hanging robes she found matching undergarments in the same era as the robes. Frowning she pulled out a set and proceeded to put them on, a sweet lace corset and silk bloomers in cream tones. Going through the robes she found a nice fitted set in burgundy velvet, smiling she took them as slid them over her head pulling them down into place. Checking to see that all the ties and clasps were in place, Hermione took a last look in the mirror before she steeled herself and left in search of her professor.

Closing the bedroom door behind her, Hermione looked down the hallway in both directions not sure which way to go. Frowning she turned to her right and wandered down the hall, noticing the paintings as she went. Each glowered as she passed, ignoring them she continued winding down the various hallways until she found a set of stairs. Gathering a bit of hope she proceeded to follow them down until she found herself back in the main Hall that she remembered from the night before. Relief seeped into her as she moved into the Hall, looking down its length she silently groaned at the enormity of it all. Lined with doors on either of its side, Hermione resigned herself to having to look into each of the rooms in search of her professor.

Where the bloody hell is he? Hermione thought in frustration. Ready to give up after finding nothing but sheet wrapped furniture in each of the rooms so far, each suffocating in its stale unused condition, Hermione decided to opened a final door in a last ditched effort to find Professor Snape. Looking into the newly revealed room, she walked into what appeared to be a large parlor that was not cloistered by ghostly white sheets or musty dead air. Moving further into the center of the room, she was able to survey her new surroundings, noting the glow of a roaring fire in the marble fireplace. Lining the walls to either side of the door enormous bookcases, sagged under the weight of various wizarding boo Com Comforted by the sight of so many books, Hermione moved closer to better inspect them. Carefully circumventing the brocade upholstered furniture, she came up to one of the bookcases where she found many tomes detailing areas of the dark arts, forbidden to the students at Hogwarts as well as most of the wizarding world. Her eyes lit at the possibilities of knowledge before heithoithout a second thought Hermione grabbed a random book, and settling down onto her knees, she made herself comfortable as she became absorbed in her new found treasure.

Watching her, Severus held himself still, melding into the shadows as she entered the parlor. He wasn’t ready for her yet, instead he chose to watch, he was good at that, he was a spy after all. His eyes glittered in appreciation as she went to his collection of books, warming at the connection they shared, their common thirst for knowledge. With relief he noticed that she had managed to clean herself, that in itself was a step in healing the trauma that had occurred. Healing it or burying it, its all the same isn’t it? He sneered in contempt at the thought. No matter, she was his for now, Snape let a smile steal across his lips at the memory of his conversation with his Superior, at least that is what he and Dumbledore had agreed upon in light of how the events of last night played out.

As he always did, he reported to Dumbledore what had happened to Hermione, with a show of regret he informed him of his current possession of her in the eyes of Malfoy. Knowing Malfoy to be the adoring sycophant that he is, Snape made it clear to Dumbledore that Voldemort most assuredly knew of Miss Granger’s current status and whereabouts as well. Inwardly he had exulted as he listened to the old man request him to keep up the pretense until they could form a plan to remove her without giving away his status as it was, a spy for the light. With feigned disgust he ‘grudgingly’ excepted his orders, sneering as he told the fool that he would take care of Miss Granger, explaining everything to her tender sensibilities. Yes, he would take care of everything....

------------------------------------- Author's Notes ----------------------------------------
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Enter Sandman