Author's Note: The following narrative is canon with the books up until the last few pages of the chapter "Malfoy Manor" in Deathly Hallows. It's a rather short story, only five chapters, but action-packed. Sorry, no SSHG romance this time around, though it is not ruled out after the story concludes, but we won't see that. This is strictly a drama.

Update: For some reason my muse exerts it's greatest influence while I'm washing my hair in the morning. Go figure. Anyway, I now have an idea for a sequel to this story that would feature a SSHG romance. Details at the end of chapter four.

The M rating is earned for a scene that gets pretty close to noncon.

Reviews are greatly appreciated. They're like gas in the tank, water in the well, ink in the inkpot . . .

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Potterverse, a world I so wish to live in. Uh . . sometimes.

Chapter One: Master and Slave

The sharp pop of Apparition sounded in the shadowed, silent lane in front of Malfoy Manor and then Severus Snape lifted his arm. The Dark Mark thereon threw open the stately gates in front of him and he strode purposefully up the gravel drive, his robes streaming behind. The Dark Lord's summons had been urgent, oddly jubilant, and Snape had left Hogwarts immediately, despite the fact that it was three o'clock in the morning.

As he gained the ornately appointed front porch he heard the sad, infant-like cry of the white peacocks Lucius kept about the place. Ridiculous affectation, the birds. But the sound was haunting and the chill of foreboding gripped him. He continued up the broad stone steps. The front door opened and a house elf bowed him into the entry hall.

"Lord Voldemort has summoned me," he told the elf and was led to the drawing room.

"Ah, Severus! Come in, come in. We have some news." Voldemort said, waving his hand over a horrific scene. "I have killed Harry Potter."

Snape entered and surveyed the room. The ostentatious crystal chandelier now lay shattered upon the floor. Potter's body was sprawled out in front of Draco who was clutching three wands, his face a bloody mess. Narcissa had her arm around her son, dabbing a handkerchief at the multiple cuts crisscrossing one cheek. Nearby lay Ron Weasley's corpse and two other bodies a short distance off: a house elf with a silver knife protruding from his chest and a goblin, it's head sliced completely off. In one corner the unmoving Greyback lay at an odd angle and a few feet further on Lucius was crumpled by the fireplace. It was difficult to ascertain if the last two, and a few other unrecognizable bodies laying about, were still among the living. Curled at the feet of Bellatrix Lestrange was an apparent prisoner of war, face down, hands securely bound behind their back, but obviously still alive.

With a brief, but reverential bow toward the Dark Lord, Snape said, "It was only a matter of time, my Lord. Now there is none who can deny you your rightful place as master of the wizarding world." He forced a smile to curl his lips and did not spare another glance for the prisoner.

"Yes, you are right once again, my friend," agreed Voldemort, obviously pleased with the night's work. His great snake slithered about his feet, and the Dark Lord waved the creature away. "Time for you to eat again, Nagini? You may take your pick." The enormous serpent glided over the field of battle, past one corpse and then another, stopping by the body of Harry Potter. "Excellent choice, my pet," Voldemort snickered. Snape watched as the snake opened its mouth and began swallowing its next meal.

"You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus," Voldemort said, his voice smoother than oil. "And it is time to mete out a long awaited reward." He nodded to Bellatrix and the witch bent down, grabbed a handful of brown, curly hair and jerked the prisoner's head up.

It was Hermione Granger.

"My gift to you, Severus," Voldemort said and flicked his wand at the girl. A thick, black leather collar appeared about her neck; a silver chain attached to it at her throat. "I remember your request, years ago, for the Mudblood you desired as a slave, not wanting to degrade a true witch with your . . . unusual . . . sexual proclivities. An admirable consideration on your part."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord." Snape said, carefully. Voldemort's whims were legendary and Snape knew to tread cautiously. He was on the verge of getting Granger turned over to him without so much as a request and he wasn't going to ruin that opportunity.

"Your arm, Severus," Voldemort commanded. Snape rolled up his sleeve and presented his Dark Mark. One long, cold finger pressed against the image burned into his white skin; the mark quickly heating up, roiling black, as Voldemort sent out the message to all his Death Eaters: Harry Potter is dead.

"With Potter's demise, the urgency of my mission has diminished. I am tired. I have business at Hogwarts and this evening I will call on you. Perhaps you can demonstrate for me some of the training techniques you will use on your newest acquisition," Voldemort's twisted smile made Snape want to vomit. "For now, I need to rest." He turned and left the drawing room.

"Certainly, my Lord. I will be expecting you," Snape said. He turned to Bellatrix and her prisoner. Stretching out his hand, he Summoned the silver chain Voldemort had conjured. Shortening it, he applied pressure to the collar around the girl's neck. "Stand up, Mudblood," he spat out the command with contempt.

Granger struggled to her feet, blood on her face and in her tangled hair. She lifted her head, their eyes met and he could read her for a brief moment. Murderer. Traitor. Death. Doom. She lowered her gaze and he jerked on the chain.

"That is the last time you will ever be so impudent as to look me in the eye, slave," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Come." As he turned to go, a glint of red and gold caught his eye from under the wrecked chandelier.

"What is the Sword of Gryffindor doing here, Bellatrix, when I specifically asked you to keep it in your vault?" He said very quietly. By now his comrades knew that the softer he spoke, the deadlier he was to deal with.

"It's a copy," she answered quickly. Snape was still the Dark Lord's second-in-command, however much she might dislike the situation. He would press that advantage. "The goblin verified that it is a fake. Just before he died," she added with obvious amusement.

"I see. May I have it?"

"Whatever for, Snape?"

"The students have been plotting again. A fake sword of this quality would allow me to lay a very effective trap for a few of them," he said. He needed that sword. How to best motivate her? "Particularly Longbottom."

"If you can catch that brat, then it's yours."

Snape reached down, picked up the sword and spelled it to his belt. Jerking on the silver chain again, he left the scene of the massacre and strode toward the exit, though slower than his usual pace. He could hear Granger's faltering footfalls trying to keep up with him as he made his way out the front door and down the steps. Once he reached the gravel drive he tried to slow down even more, but he didn't want to chance anyone seeing him favor the girl if he was still being watched. Hang on, Miss Granger, we're almost in the clear, he tried to silently urge her. They were halfway there, then three-quarters and then they were out the gate.

He heard the rhythm of her footsteps fail and then stumble. With incredible agility, he whirled and caught her before she could fall. Scooping the unconscious girl up in his arms, he turned on his heel and disappeared with a loud pop.

The unlikely pair Apparated in front of the ornate entrance to Hogwarts. Snape usually flew to the headmaster's tower at this point, but had never done so with another person in tow and didn't want to risk it. He had another solution.

"Kreacher!" Snape called out and the curmudgeonly house elf appeared in an instant.

"Yes, headmaster?"

"Apparate us to my quarters immediately," he commanded. The elf nodded and took hold of Snape's arm and one of the girl's. In a flash, they were in his bedroom and he hurried to his large bed and gently set her down on one side. A flick of his wand removed the cords from her wrists.

"Kreacher, fetch Madam Pomfrey." He straightened, removed the sword from his belt and leaned it against the wall by the bed, all while issuing orders to the elf. "Have her bring dittany, blood-replenishing potion, strengthening solution, and potions to treat the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse. Apparate her here. Go. Now." Kreacher disappeared with a loud crack.

Snape conjured a cloth and a wash basin filled with warm water. Secreting his wand, he wrung out the cloth, sat down next to Granger and pressed it to her forehead for a few moments. Then he tried to wipe some of the dried blood from her face. Her eyes flew open and her fist flew upward. He was just able to slap the blow aside and then he pinned her wrists to the mattress to prevent a second attempt.

"Murderer!" she shouted at him.

"Oof!" With his hands restraining her arms, he wasn't able to prevent her knee from landing a solid blow into his side. Then Kreacher arrived with Madam Pomfrey.

"I will never be your sex slave!" Granger screamed at the top of her lungs. There was approximately one tick of complete silence as he saw Pomfrey go for her wand and then all hell broke loose.

Snape fell atop the girl to counter further physical attacks from that quarter and simultaneously summoned his wand up from his sleeve directly into his hand. In rapid succession he cast several silent spells: Expelliarmus! at Pomfrey's wand; Wingardium Leviosa! at the falling tray; Incarcerus! at Pomfrey herself to prevent any possible retaliation and then Stupify! at Granger when he felt her knee rising between his legs.

He pushed himself off the unconscious girl and quickly Summoned the nurse's wand from where his Disarming spell had catapulted it. He then pointed his wand directly into Madam Pomfrey's face.

The terror in her eyes was understandable. After all, she was facing the dark wizard who had murdered Albus Dumbledore. Snape had skillfully cultivated that terror over the past year in every member of his staff for the most incongruent of reasons: to protect them. To protect the staff and to protect the students.

But now he was not sure what he was supposed to do next. From the scant information he had been able to coerce out of Dumbledore's portrait, the Dark Lord should have died when Potter did. That had not happened. With the boy's mission a failure, it was time to regroup and concoct a new scheme to ensure Voldemort's downfall and they would need to do so quickly. He would need to convince Granger and Pomfrey of what his true alliance had been from the beginning. That was going to be difficult, to say the least. It was time to let a few chosen people know what he had been doing.

Flicking his wand downward, he removed the cords that wound about her and held out her wand. Obviously trying to control her trembling, her eyes darted to the proffered wand and then looked back into his own.

"Miss Granger is hurt and needs medical assistance." He attempted to sound as nonthreatening as possible. She accepted the wand and walked over to where the girl lay, cutting a wide berth around him as she did so. Snape watched as the nurse began examining her for injuries.

"What is this?" she demanded, indignant, and looked for a way to remove the collar and chain from around the girl's neck.

"That has to stay where it is," Snape informed her, "for now. The Dark Lord put it there. Removing it may be dangerous." The look she gave him could have withered devil's snare.

"All is not as it appears, Poppy. See to her wounds." Looking down, he addressed Kreacher.

"Bring a meal up from the kitchens for her and then come to my office," he commanded the elf and watched as Kreacher disappeared. "Whatever they have been up to these past months, eating doesn't appear to have been very high on the agenda."

He retrieved the sword and strode toward the headmaster's study, casting spells on the door on his way out, setting up wards so that neither of the occupants could escape. He had to consult with Dumbledore before making any further decisions.

As he entered his office, he glanced up at the portrait hanging above and behind his desk. Although the bedroom contained no paintings to spy upon the goings on there, Hogwarts' previous headmaster was sitting up straight and alert, obviously aware that something significant was afoot. Despite the fact that his mentor now only existed as paint, Snape was still hesitant to deliver the bad news.

"Voldemort has killed Harry Potter," he said flatly, knowing Dumbledore was expecting this event. The man sitting on the painted chair smiled broadly, which Snape found unsettling. He was about to explain the scene he had been called to at Malfoy Manor when noises could be heard echoing up from the stairwell leading to Snape's office. Dumbledore slumped in his chair and, as he always did, feigned sleep. The Carrows, Amycus and Alecto, burst through the door. Unfortunately, the office opened to any person the rightful headmaster had appointed to be his deputy head as long as said headmaster was inside. At least he wouldn't have to put up with these two any longer.

"Excellent news, Snape! It's time to celebrate Potter's death!" Amycus said, holding up a bottle of wine. His two fellow Death Eaters completely misinterpreted the wicked grin that now graced his face.

"There are goblets in the cabinet behind you," he said and pointed his wand at Alecto as Amycus unwisely turned his back to them. Alecto's eyes widened - the only reaction she was able to achieve before Snape's silent Stunner crumpled her to the floor. At the thump, Amycus began to turn around, but Snape hit him full in the back with another silent Stupify. There was no turning back now.

A loud crack sounded and Kreacher appeared as he had been ordered to, although the reason Snape had done so was to prevent the two women that were locked in his bedroom from coercing the elf into helping them escape. But circumstances had combined and he could use the elf now.

"Please bring Professor McGonagall to my office immediately," he ordered and watched as the elf nodded and disappeared. He knew Minerva was always awake by this time and would be up and dressed by now, although he suspected the early hour would only add to the vitriol that she spewed at him of late. As a second thought, he conjured his Patronus and gave it a message to relay to the Transfigurations professor.

"This is not an order, Minerva. Please let Kreacher bring you to my office. I need your help."

With a flick of his wand the doe scampered out the window. No doubt it would find the woman in an argument with the cankerous house elf and he hoped his message would facilitate her arrival. He turned back to the portrait.

"Yes, Harry Potter is dead. However, the Dark Lord is still alive, which I believe is counter to the expected outcome of your plan," Snape picked up the conversation where he had left it, standing to one side of his desk so that he could keep an eye on the limp forms of the Carrow siblings and make an occasional glance at the portrait to gauge its occupants reaction. Instead of smiling as he had before, Dumbledore now looked somewhat confused. This was not a good sign. Once again, before he could delve into the meat of the problem, he was interrupted.

A loud crack heralded the arrival of Minerva McGonagall. Kreacher, wisely, stepped away quickly as the former deputy headmistress's lips pressed together in a thin line. Everybody knew what that meant. She glared at Snape, but not with quite as much disgust as he would have expected.

"You can produce a Patronus?" she said, her voice, also, not as harsh as it could have been.

"Yes, Minerva," he said and took a deep, clearing breath, trying to let go of the facade he had been required to shield himself with for so long. "As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, I have only ever done as Albus had ordered me." This may have been the wrong thing to say because rage flared in her eyes and she stiffened noticeably.

"What you have done to this school . . . " her voice was a snarl, but Snape cut her off.

"What I have done to this school had to be done. My orders were to play my part convincingly so that I might remain close to the Dark Lord and be privy to his plans. I protected the school, the students and the staff as much as I could."

"You killed Dumbledore. How can you possibly justify . . ."

"Minerva," the portrait said gently.

Stunned, Professor McGonagall looked up, her eyes misting. "Albus," she whispered.

"Everything he said is true, but we don't have time to explain now," Dumbledore said.

"Indeed," Snape added. "Time is of the essence if we are to defeat the Dark Lord."

McGonagall turned on him. "Defeat the Dark Lord? You expect me to believe you, trust you, with no explanation at all? You are not a stupid man, Severus Snape."

"You don't have to trust me. My actions will speak for me right now," Snape said and gestured behind her. She turned around and saw the unconscious bodies of the Carrows sprawled upon the carpet.

"I'm reinstating you as deputy headmistress, Minerva." He strode across the room to stand over his former colleagues. "Thankfully, there are only a handful of students here at the moment. I need you to keep them in their dormitories until I say otherwise - that includes mealtimes as well. No one is to be out and about in the castle. This should all be over by tomorrow. For better or for worse." He flicked his wand at Amycus, levitated the body over to lay by his sister and cast a spell to tie their hands together.

"Kreacher, take us to the dungeon I prepared for just this occasion," he ordered the elf and then hesitated. "Minerva," he said, contemplating telling her of Potter's death. But then thought better of it. She would simply demand more explanation. "Thank you." He nodded at the elf.

"Yes, headmaster," Kreacher said. Bending down the elf took hold of Alecto's free hand and then took hold of Snape's. With a loud crack, they Disapparated.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and the first face she saw was unexpected. Madam Pomfrey was leaning over her, peering at her intently, concern shadowing the old nurse's face. The familiarity of the situation almost made Hermione smile. Then she remembered: Harry was dead; Ron was dead. Voldemort would now conquer all. The emotions were almost overwhelming and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Madam Pomfrey, they're . . . they're gone . . ." she choked out after a sob.

"Shush, child," said the nurse. "The headmaster might return at any minute. We need to get out of here. Can you stand up?"

Hermione tried sitting and found that her injuries were healed to the point were she experienced no pain when moving and actually felt much better than when she had arrived. Tentatively, she inched to the edge of the bed and stood up, Madam Pomfrey's hand on her elbow. She was a bit dizzy, but she suspected it was from hunger rather than injury. They hadn't had a decent meal in days. They. Tears filled her eyes again. She clutched at the nurse's hand and Madam Pomfrey took her into her arms.

"Harry's dead. Voldemort killed him. Bellatrix Lestrange killed Ron," Hermione wept into her shoulder. "It's over. Voldemort has won."

"My poor girl," Madam Pomfrey murmured, holding her tightly while she cried. "I know their deaths are hard to bear, but I'm concerned about your welfare right now. I can't . . . I can't hardly believe what I heard you say earlier. How did you get here?"

"Voldemort g-gave me to him. He said I was the reward to replace a Mudblood Professor Snape had wanted years ago but couldn't have. I must have fainted outside Malfoy Manor and woke up . . . here." she looked around, confused.

"We are in the headmaster's bedroom, Hermione, and we have to leave now," Madam Pomfrey said, taking her hand and pulling her toward the entrance to the headmaster's office. Pomfrey stopped and, putting her ear against the door, attempted to ascertain if the room beyond was occupied. She tried the handle. It was locked. Pulling her wand she cast Alohomora, to no avail.

"He's warded us in," she said.

Hermione, dropping the nurse's hand, went quickly to one of the large windows. Throwing it open she looked out onto the school grounds, the faint light of dawn just barely allowing her to make out the broomshed. Madam Pomfrey followed her.

"We could fly out of here. Can you conjure a couple of brooms?" Hermione asked.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Granger," said a low voice behind them. Both women whirled about. Professor Snape had returned.

He stood there looking much as Hermione had remembered him from potions class: tall, thin and imposing, though his face was a bit more haggard than she could recall. His black hair was slightly longer, but the same black eyes stared back at her and he wore the same black robes that had made him so intimidating when she had attended Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey interposed herself between them. He didn't seem to mind that the nurse had her wand pointed at him.

In a split second, Hermione made the decision and spun back toward the window; she would not be put to the use Voldemort had condemned her to. She jumped up onto the sill and flung herself off the tower.

Author's Note: Ah, yes! I just love a good cliffie! Almost literal in this case. Fear not! The next chapter is almost done and will be up soon, barring any last minute plot additions.