Chapter Text
“You are correct, Miss Granger, Courts are being …quietly…created all over Europe. My sources tell me it’s happening in the Americas as well.” Master Snape stands to pace across the floor of his front parlor, and, tea forgotten, Hermione watches his every step, waiting for the ax that will decide her fate, to fall.
“The question, at this juncture,” he intones, “is what brought you to my door? Are you simply looking for confirmation of your suspicions?”
Girding her loans, she says, “I’m looking for your help. I think I could be— if I figure out how to do this— a powerful Queen. But I can’t do it alone. I want you to help me. I believe you can. I believe it could make you more powerful as well,” she laughs, “—as though you need my help to gain power— but you would. And,” she swallows, “I would grant you any position you wish in my court. If you wished it, of course.” Gods, she was babbling, as though she was a schoolgirl in his lab, once again.
“Any?” That silky voice of his, now with a bit of gravel in it, slithered down her spine and stayed there, coiling tight.
She forced herself to swallow, and nod. “Yes. Any.”
Did she really just say that?
Yes. Yes, I did.
I just told Master Snape I would take him as my lover, if he wished it.
There was no doubt in her mind that he’d want a position with more power — and surely she held no interest sexually, for a man like him, anyway. But she’d needed to prove her sincerity.
And it hadn’t been a lie, had it? She would take him in any way that she could have him. Her crush on this wizard hadn’t diminished since the war. It had only grown, to something dark, and deep, and secret. And she could keep it that way—forever, if she needed to— if she could only have him at her side.
With Master Snape aiding her in this, she would be truly untouchable. They could form a court able to keep others in check. And those rumors she’d heard, out of Austria and Hungary, of witches being held captive, used as little more than breeding chattel—they could do something about that.
But not if she didn’t figure this out, first. This Offering to the Darkness.
And not if she didn’t have this wizard at her side.
He stood, abruptly, and held his hand out to her, gently pulling her to her feet, and releasing her all too soon. “Come.”
She followed, but not without asking, “Where are we going?”
“I have a volume I believe will answer some of your more pressing questions, in my lab.” He swept down the corridor in front of her, his black robe sweeping behind, just like she remembered it, and his muttered, “and there are tests….”, left a shiver rolling down her spine, but she followed, close on his heels.
If he had a book with more information about the Offering she couldn’t afford not to follow.
The source she’d found had called it The Dark Gift. The Descent. The Offering. It had invariable been linked with the Darkness. The Abyss. Labyrinths. Sacrifice. But also power — so much power. And if war had taught her anything, it was that the dark and the light were not the separate entities she had once believed.
After descending a wide set of shallow stone steps he swept open a double set of old wooden doors, banded in iron like something from a medieval castle, and revealed the most sweeping potions lab she’d ever seen, far surpassing the one she’d grown up using with him at school, even with all of the funding put into the institution’s potions program.
This was the lab of a Potions Master, indeed. And perhaps a Master of other arts as well. Her eyes scanned the space taking in more and more esoterica as with a casual sweep of his hand he lit glowing amber lamps around the space, and led her to an adjoining room, away from the heat and humidity of his brewing space, where he kept his library.
And it truly deserved the name; every wall was covered in dark mahogany shelving, filled with everything from books that had clearly just come out in the last few years, progressing to older and older tomes and ancient folios, until she spotted an entire shelf of scrolls, from an age before they would have been bound into leather volumes.
It was to the older section of the room that he moved, carefully selecting two worn leather volumes, and then delicately teasing out a scroll from the top of his stacks, and unrolling it on a long low table set aside for such a use, a low murmured charm holding the ends in place without damage.
With a sweep of his hand he invited her to sit, and after she’d seated herself at the table, she realized he intended to pace and talk as she perused the volume he’d laid in front of her.
No, not talk.
Lecture.
She was going to get an old-fashioned Professor Snape lecture, here in his private sanctum, and the topic was going to be — she looked down quickly at the page he’d carefully turned to in the book that was so old it held no title embossed on it’s ancient cover — Howe a mayden mihte wynne dominion threwe her offringe to the darknesse.
Good lord. She pinched her thigh, and choked down the manic giggle that wanted to escape, unable to decide if this was one of her twisted little fantasies come to life, or some kind of nightmare where she’d soon be in front of the class in her underwear.
A glance up at Master Snape only muddled the issue. He looked at her as though she was a unique specimen he’d never seen before. A butterfly pinned, perhaps. No, a moth. A rather drab moth, no doubt. But one he thought he could yet discover the latent magical properties of.
“As you can see, Miss Granger,” one of his long slim fingers, pointed to the text in front of her, “You are on the correct path. There is a ritual, indeed, that you may perform to make your Offering,” He paced away from her before continuing, “and several ways to make such an offering. Before we can proceed, I must ask some very personal questions of you.”
She nodded, “I understand. You can,” she swallowed thickly, “You can ask me anything you need to. I understand this is going to get very, uh, personal. And please, call me Hermione.” It could only help, she thought. If he kept calling her Miss Granger in that supercilious tone of his, then her old schoolgirl fantasies had no chance in hell of being crushed.
“Very well. Hermione.” He paused. “Are you a virgin?”
Right to it, then.
“Well. I suppose for the purposes of this ritual I might be.”
“Explain.”
“Um, I’d guess the book, she looked down, quickly skimming, “It only cares if my hymen is still intact, right? This isn’t really about sexual activity or experience, I’d wager.”
“You will not be wagering, Miss… Hermione.” He tapped her chin up with his finger, catching her eye. “Stop reading ahead, and focus.”
“Well, I don’t know…”
A sardonic lift of his brow silenced her. And then his voice took on a calmer, deeper tone than she’d ever heard from him. “Rest assured, the ritual can be performed no matter your state of… experience. There is no judgment here, understood?”
She nodded, quickly.
“But I must ascertain what we are working with, to know how to proceed.” Again, she nodded her assent. “Your hymen is intact?”
“Yes, I… yes. I think so. I’m not sexually inexperienced, I’ve just never… not that.”
“You are what, twenty eight, now?”
“That’s right.”
“Amazing.”
The look she shot him was mulish. “You said no judgment.”
“I assure you, Hermione, I am not judging you harshly for this. If anything the opposite. It’s rare for a young woman to keep herself…pure.”
She held up a hand to stop him, aware of the red flush heating her face, but it couldn’t be helped. “You can keep the patriarchal purity culture bull-shite to yourself. I’ve given more blowjobs than you can shake a stick at. I assure you there is nothing Pure about me.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Indeed.” The bastard didn’t look the least big chagrined by her set-down, only continued. “So you are adept at fellatio. Have you also had anal intercourse?”
Her jaw dropped. “Do you really need to know that?”
His gaze sharpened at her deflection. “I believe that I do. Yes.”
Her mouth tightened, “This influences my Offering?”
“It does.”
One deep breath later, she closed her eyes and spoke, “I have not had anal intercourse, but have engaged in a good deal of anal play, which I enjoy immensely.”
She snuck one challenging look at him before plowing on, “I also engage in oral, both giving and receiving, though rarely orgasm from receiving. Both vaginal and anal fingering are favorites, and I tend to orgasm easily from both. While I haven’t had, uh, regular, intercourse, I’m not completely sure my hymen is intact, to tell you the truth, because of all the,” she petered out, wiggling her fingers.
The touch of a finger on her chin brought her eyes up to meet his.
“Very thorough — I would expect no less of you — and an excellent place to start.” He dropped his hand, gesturing to the book in front of her before pacing again, “You’ve gathered that the Offering has a sexual component, and indeed, whoever you select to assist you with the Offering will experience a not-insignificant elevation of their own power.” He faced her squarely. “You must choose carefully who you will share such a gift with.”
Seeing that he had her rapt attention, he continued. “Your Inner Court, when you form one, can contain up to seven people. Men, traditionally, if you are heterosexual, though there can be exceptions. These men will serve you, and protect you, as your Advisor, Mage, Consort, Steward…” He stopped reciting, noting her agitation, “Do you need something?”
“I feel like I should be taking notes.”
She saw a flash of amusement in his eyes before he shook his head and paced away. “We can cover everything as many times as you need. For now, just listen.”
“Yes, Sir.” His head snapped to her as if on a string she had pulled, then seemed to gather himself, continuing. “Do you have anyone in mind, for your court?”
“You think… you think this will truly work? That I will be able to do this?”
“Without a doubt, Hermione.”
“Oh. Um. I have one or two ideas.”
“There is time. I can help you gather together a list of prospects to interview.”
“I want you, of course.” His head snapped back to her, looking not a little shocked, and she stumbled over her own tongue to continue. “I mean. That’s…you’re why I came… I’m here. Obviously. Because I thought of you. First.”
“You truly wish for more than my advice on this as a scholar?”
“Well. Yes. You’re the most powerful wizard I know, Master Snape. And… you’re not already part of someone’s court are you?”
“No, Hermione, I am not.“
He rounded the table quickly, coming to stand by her, then, to her shock, dropping to one knee by her chair. “You are asking me to be part of your Court?”
He wasn’t looking at her, His gaze was fixed firmly on his hand where it rested on his bent knee, and that bothered her.
“I want you as part of my court, when I form it, if you decide to accept, yes. But right now… right now I need your help. I want you to help me make the Offering. Not just tell me how it’s done… I want,”
His eyes met hers then, and she got the full force of his attention on her. He looked like he had a million questions, but there was a deep masculine surety there that she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. A glittering knowledge. Yes, that was what she’d come for. He wouldn’t disappoint her.
His long elegant fingers reached out to grasp her own, before raising her hand to his lips, and turning it over in his palm at the last moment, to press a kiss to her wrist. “You have my vow, Hermione. I will help you make your Offering.”
Her breath was shaky. “Thank you. And you should know, there is one other person I know I intend to ask to join my court.”
Master Snape squeezed her hand gently, “Continue, please.”
“Lucius Malfoy.”
She expected many reactions from him, but not the slow nodding of his head. “I expected that might be the case. He is a wise choice, Hermione.”
“Excuse me? You expected that might be the case?” Why had that shot her blood pressure through the roof?
One sardonic lift of his eyebrow quieted her a bit, “Did you wish me to object? Declare him unworthy of you? Hermione, Lucius can open doors for you that you can’t imagine. He is still unaffiliated with any of the recently forming Courts, and I believe that is for a reason.”
“Me, you mean.”
“I do.”
She thought back to finding that first book that detailed the Offering, in the Malfoy Library. He’d been allowing her to research there for the last two years now. It wasn’t such a stretch to imagine him orchestrating her finding the book, if he’d decided she should.
“I think… is it crazy that I think he set this up? In his own back-handed way?”
Snape barely repressed a snort, “It’s highly likely, knowing Lucius. And I do.”
“You’re friends.” She hadn’t realized, not until this moment.
“Old friends. Estranged. But we’ve found our way back to it, yes.”
“And you don’t mind… him….as part of my Court?”
“Hermione, it is your Court. You must choose whoever you deem worthy.”
“If you don’t approve of one of my choices, I want you to tell me. I don’t want…” She screwed up her courage, then spit out the words she’d been holding back, “I need you in this. First and foremost. Everyone else is optional. I don’t want you to back out if you don’t like one of my choices, or…”
“Hermione.” His voice arrested her, and he gently tipped her chin up with one big hand, “I won’t back out.”
“You won’t like…”
“I’m gathering that.” A small quirk of his lips gentled the words. “Witch. I won’t abandon you in this. There is no one you could choose that would make me revoke my vow to you.”
She let out a long breath, blinking at him rapidly, and finally nodded. “You mean it.”
“I do. But you must understand something moving forward, Hermione,” at her expectant nod he continued, “Everything we are about to do, it will require you to trust me.” He waited for her nod of acknowledgement. “And not a small amount of intimacy.”
“I’d gathered as much.”
“Far more than the conversation we just had about your sexual experience.”
She steadied herself, then asked, “Will we… I mean. Is sex, part of it?”
“It can be.”
“It’s more powerful that way?”
“With the right partner, yes.”
“How do you tell? Who the right partner is, I mean?”
“There are tests.”
Yes, he’d been muttering about those on their way to the lab, hadn’t he?
“Can you do them now?”
That did earn a quirk of his lip. “There is time.”
“I know, but I want…” she felt the squeeze of his hand still on hers, and it stilled the words bubbling up in her throat.
“There is time, Hermione.”
“Okay.”
He was going to help her. He’d promised. For now, that would be enough.