Collared

Adriana Troy

Disclaimer: The characters and world they are in belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this fan fiction. Honest.

Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger. Post Voldemort's WWWII (Wizarding World War II), so Miss Granger is no longer a student. No squickiness there. Read on to find out the rest.

Rating: The Fanfiction.net version is a strong PG-13. My view is if you can watch Buffy, then you can probably read this. Other archived versions will include much darker violence and consensual adult situations (yeah, sex) and will be labeled NC-17. That won't happen until far later chapters, and I'll try to include the link to the alternatives if anyone is interested. Since FF.Net is now a prudish prat when it comes to such things.

Archive: Sure, knock yourself out. Just keep author's name in tact and don't change anything. I think that's pretty much a given. No need to directly e-mail the author and ask. She'd just say yes anyway.

A/N: Although this involves a collar, there isn't any real BDSM (if you don't know what that is then don't worry). Hermione isn't likely to begin brandishing a whip, so my apologies if that disappoints you. The beginning (and other parts) is purposefully fashioned after Silence of the Lambs. I fancy Snape as a Hannibal like prisoner and Hermione as the fresh agent Starling. It is, in fact, where the idea for this plot first bloomed. Then, as all plot bunnies tend to do, it multiplied at an astounding rate. Booyah.

Introduction

Maximum Security Wing. Azkaban Prison. 6:11 PM. June 4th, 2005.

"Seems everything is in order then."

Professor Granger nodded to the guard as he handed over the documents and papers that had been signed and sealed with the Minster of Magic's signet. It had been a trial of patience and quite a few cramps in the finger joints, to get all of the paperwork together and approved. First, bringing up the idea to Minerva, and then following the old witch's connections in the Ministry, and a few of her own. Both women had a pipeline to Minister Dumbledore. Not to mention Hermione's long standing friendship with Harry, who now oversaw the Enforcement of Magical Law branch at the Ministry.

Everyone who had heard of her idea had been skeptical, but she was as stubborn as ever. She knew this would work, it had to, since all other avenues seemed closed. The inspiration had struck her as most inspiration did, as she walked through the Dungeons near the old Potions Classroom one evening during rounds. The figurative Lumos had gone off in her head, and she rushed to do the appropriate research.

Muggle and Magical literature on criminology had helped her greatly. Interviews with a few people who had known him the best, learning whatever she could about the man. Everything from talking with Remus about their time in school, to speaking directly to the Minister about his personal tastes. She had developed a Muggle Profile of sorts, but there were many gaps. He had always been, and still remained, a very private individual. Hermione was certain, however, that she could break through a few of those barriers. Get him to talk and aid the manhunt currently under way.

All this had taken two months. A long road to Azkaban, and now she was standing at the precipice. Following the pepper haired Wizard down the twisting staircase to where they kept the most infamous and dangerous of prisoners. It was cold, but not with the heavy blackness that had permeated the place when Dementors had stood guard all those years before the War. One of Dumbledore's first acts as Minister had been to abolish the Dark Creatures from the old fortress. Place wizards employed by the Ministry instead to keep watch over the criminals and ex Death Eaters. Witches and wizards no longer went insane within the walls, but they were still wary of receiving sentence to the prison. The ghosts alone were enough to turn a person's stomach.

They went deep into the bowls of the fortress, the guard talking small chat with her as they descended into the cold. Things grew on the stones down here, slimy and moss textured, moving about on little legs. Hermione could not help but shiver as one crawled across her path, and she carefully stepped over it in her pumps. The echoes from below brought up only silence, and when they finally reached the heavily warded door she had to wonder what was beyond it.

The guard waved his wand and the small hint of magic, like static electricity against the skin, fell away. The iron latched clicked and the door tore into the floor with a metallic screech as it was opened. A hush series of murmurs greeted her as she followed the guard into the ward. The eyes staring back at her mostly hollowed, a few curious, and a few outright leering. She avoided contact, keeping her line of sight on the stone wall at the end of the corridor. It was the last cell, she knew, since the small wooden chair was already placed in front of it.

It wasn't until she actually reached the wards that she could see him. At once, a hundred memories flooded her. He was not so very different from the domineering, sneering, nightmarish Potions Professor she remembered. There were a few more lines in his face, the skin now porcelain white instead of sallow. She supposed it was the cauldron fumes that had tinted his skin, but his hair was every bit as unkempt and greasy. Perhaps more so. It hung limply against his shoulder blades in clusters.

His posture was relaxed, reclining against the wall close to the invisible ward with his shoulder; ankles out and crossed in a rather casual angle. He was no longer allowed to wear the billowing black robes, too many pockets, and was dressed only in a starched white shirt, cuffed and elegant even if wrinkled and obviously unwashed for many days. His body was thinner than she remembered, too many jutting angles following his skeletal frame, although she was assured the prisoners were all well fed. His coal black trousers fit tightly enough, and the straight-backed lines seemed to accentuate the length of his legs.

It was the face that pierced Hermione. Eyes of glittering black onyx, like two large pupils, stared at her with every inch the sharp intelligence of a predator she remembered. They did a very fast scan downwards and up, searching for weakness like a vulture. Ready to pick at her bones should she falter. If he was surprised to see her after five years of imprisonment, he made no sign of it. Still with the deceptive stance of a giant panther relaxing on his perch. His nose, just as large and crooked as ever, had always been an unforgettable feature. As was the harsh and unforgiving angles of his face.

Hermione smiled at him, proud she was not quite as nervous as she probably ought to have been. "Evening, Professor Snape."

The guard adjusted her seat, casting weary glances at Snape from the corner of his eye as he did so. Snape if anything seemed amused by it all as the guard scampered away quickly. When he finally spoke, his voice was the same silken tenor that slid over her skin and shot straight to the nervous system. The diction precise as a scalpel's edge, and she knew it could be just as sharp and cutting. "Good evening, Miss Granger." He replied smoothly, still leaning against the wall. "Or, has that changed? Mrs. Potter, or Weasley, perhaps?"

"Still Miss, Professor." Hermione replied while seating herself primly. Her back kept straight and her shoulders squared as she demurely crossed her ankles and not her knees. She knew he would appreciate the more lady-like gestures. This was a man who enjoyed the illusion of high social conformity. "Although, I teach now."

"Indeed?" His body language, which she was monitoring closely, gave nothing away. Not that she expected it to. He was too well trained in deception for that. The best she could hope for was a slip, but it would not happen while he was en guard. Which, she was sure he was, despite his casual manner. "My condolences, then."

"Your opinion of students hasn't changed, I see." Hermione said neutrally. She loved her students. Especially the ones who were eager to learn, as she had been.

One thin black brow made a languid trip towards his hairline. "Not in the least. Yet, somehow, I have a feeling you are not here to get a few disciplinary techniques." His smile was thin and bitter. "So let's cut to the point, shall we?"

Even inside the cell, he was still leading the conversation. Taking it where he wanted it to go. Taking the control. "All right, Professor." She agreed in as amiable fashion as she could. "I'm sure you're aware of the ongoing manhunt for the Death Eaters remaining after the end of the war. Specifically those wanted for crimes against wizard kind through the years of the first and second war."

He lifted his right shoulder in a small shrug. "Not much of the outside world reaches us in here, Miss Granger." His tone was bored. "Surely you don't think I have had any contact with them?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I don't."

"Then why are you here?"

Hermione took a small breath. "Because you know them better than anyone else, Professor. Knew how their minds worked. You had to, in order to spy as you did."

"Ah." Snape smiled again, a cold and bitter thing, revealing a small flash of yellow teeth. "But I've been condemned as a traitor to the Order, Miss Granger. According to the Ministry, a double agent."

"I know that, sir." Hermione replied, recalling his trial very well. Harry had testified during the highly published proceedings. Both she and Ron had been there to lend support. The site of the Potions Master, standing erect and proud before being led off in conjured bounds, had shaken them all.

Banishing the memory and focusing on the present, she continued to push ahead. "The fact is, guilty or not, you still played a dangerous game. I only want your guidance on their possible movements. That's all."

"So, finally, it seems I know something the Brilliant Miss Granger does not." He sneered, and it flashed a thousand Potion lessons in her mind. "Must really rip you up."

"Lucius and Draco Malfoy. Vincent Crabbe. Gregory Goyle. Blaise Zambini." Hermione listed. "Still unaccounted for and the trails are cold."

"Good for them." Snape hissed.

Hermione leaned slightly forward, trying to appear earnest. "They're willing to put you into my custody." She told him in a soft voice. "If you agree to help me track them down."

Snape hadn't so much as twitched at the news of being offered a chance to walk outside his dingy cell. Away from the single cot fastened next to the cold and living stone wall. Where the few books he was permitted looked ancient and worn from the humidity. The small flickering scones on the wall cast shadows nearly as frightening as the ones that must have lived within his memories.

He didn't seem interested in the slightest. "Your custody?" His lip was curled into distaste, the words sarcastic. "I can't seem to think of any one person, except perhaps Potter, I'd be more loath to find myself in forced company with."

Hermione pursed her lips together. If she had been inside of that cell, even without the torment of Dementors, she would have been much more enthusiastic about spending time away from the endless cycle of time in Azkaban. "I should point out, Professor, that I am not naturally inclined to seek out your company either. However, the cause-"

"I've suffered enough for both causes." He pushed off the wall in a graceful motion and slowly stepped closer to the invisible ward. Hermione fought the urge to flinch back as he stalked forward. Show no weakness. "I, Miss Granger, am extremely sick of causes. It's time to look out, as they say, for number one."

"I agree." Hermione said evenly. "Which is why you ought to be interested in the rewards for you, should you successfully help apprehend the missing fugitives."

Snape's large nose was just inches away from being shocked by the intense magic that separated them. His eyes bore into her with all the finesse of her parent's drills. "Oh? And what would they offer me now?"

"Freedom." Hermione said simply.

"And what grantees do you have that I would not simply kill you at the first opportunity and run off to join my," a vicious sneer, "comrades in arms?"

"Well, for one, you won't have a wand with you. Obviously." Hermione answered without flinching at the threat. "Two, you'll be wearing this."

She reached into the folds of her royal blue robes and pulled out a thick collar. The loop was stiff in her small hands, the large enchanted silver buckle glinting nearly as much as the smooth shining black leather. She had researched this small, enchanted, item very carefully as well. It, alone, was the only reason Dumbledore and Harry had agreed to her plan.

The sight of the collar finally provoked an intense reaction. Snape's eyes widened fractionally, his lips pressed together to form a single white line of anger. His long tapered fingers, she recalled nearly dancing above cauldrons, curled like talons. "You're jesting."

"I take it you know what it does?"

A single curt nod, his eyes burning with the flame of indignation, was his silent reply.

"Good." Hermione stated, uncrossing her ankles before standing next to the chair. Placing the collar in the center where she had sat, the grain still warm beneath the brush of fingertips. "I'll leave you to think about it, then. I'll be back tomorrow, for your decision." She straightened and turned towards him. "It's a small price for a full pardon, Professor."

Snape, apparently, had nothing more to say to her. With a nasty glare, colder than the air around her, he turned on his heel and stood with his rigid back facing Hermione. She nodded to herself, it was the best she could hope for, and slowly made her way back down the corridor. Her feet clicking along the stone as she went, ignoring the whispered voices of the other condemned.

As she ascended back up the staircase and to civilization, Hermione wondered if Snape could beat down his pride enough to take the offer. It was clear that Azkaban had not managed to take that from the feared wizard yet. She wasn't completely sure if that was a good or bad sign.

Hermione supposed, one way or another, she would find out the next day.

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