Heaps and heaps of beta love to lashestoashes91, chasingvellichor, and ravenclawsass.
Characters may seem a bit OOC in the beginning, but by the end of the first chapter you'll understand why. This fic is canon-compliant (at least Harry's POV book canon-compliant) up to the Battle of Hogwarts.
Warning, there are mentions of non-con/dub-con and suicide, but these are not things written in gratuitously; the rating is for the adult themes.
Written for the Dramione Remix Fest, Round 9, much thanks to the mods for running it and their quick editing suggestions. This is a remix of William/Dolores from Westworld. Dolores is a rancher's daughter who thinks her world is beautiful. William is a guest in her world and falls in love with her, refusing to recognize that her world isn't real.
There are a few similarities to Westworld with regards to the plot, but I really wanted to write a version of Westworld in the Wizarding World and this is what I came up with. If you've seen Westworld, you'll recognize some of the themes. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. Either way, just know that there are zero western-style elements in this fic.
Title is inspired by 'I Promise' from the Westworld season two soundtrack by Ramin Djawadi.
Hermione smiled as she walked through the door of Tomes and Scrolls, greeted the cheerful blonde woman behind the counter, and then turned left toward the New Releases shelf. She had been eagerly awaiting the newest book written by the renowned aviary expert Callum Vogel, hoping to learn more about the training capabilities of Golden Snidgets.
Her eyes trailed up and down the shelf several times, searching for the light blue cover of Beyond the Pitch: Practical Purposes of Golden Snidgets. Finding it, she grabbed the book and clutched it under her arm as she walked over to the Magical Creatures section of the small Hogsmeade bookstore. Having been here so many times, she knew exactly which row of books to look for.
She was currently working as a consultant for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures researching alternative birds to use for delivering post. Lately, it seemed, owls were disappearing and becoming less inclined to follow the directions of their owners, and so the Ministry had sought her out for her expertise in understanding how to control magical creatures. She had initially been tasked with designing new spells and charms to keep track of the owls, but this quickly led to frustration as they were rather combative and creature-specific spellwork was unpredictable.
Occasionally, she would consider it odd that the wizarding world was losing access to their one and only form of mail delivery that had been reliable for thousands of years, but then she would shrug and think nothing more of it.
She picked up a few extra books to take with her, including Quidditch Through the Ages and a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard to give to a co-worker whose son's birthday was coming up. She then headed back to the front of the store and set her books on the counter, talking idly with the store's owner, Audrey, as she rang up her purchases.
Hermione gathered the books in her arms and left the bookshop, the bell above the door chiming her exit. She paused to bask in the feeling of the sun's rays on her face when she walked out onto the high street. Hogsmeade was only a five-minute broom flight from the Muggle neighborhood her parents lived in several miles north of here, and so it had become her home away from home, her anchor to the wizarding world.
The heels of her Mary Janes plodded the cobblestones as she walked toward the broomstick shed at the other end of the street, pausing to smile at the familiar faces around town. The shopkeep at Dervish and Banges, Seamus, was outside sweeping under the awning when she walked by, and she held up her hand to give him a quick wave as she passed. Next door was the small quill shop, Scrivenshaft's. It had been closed up for as long as she could remember, the boards covering the front windows starting to slip with age. She offered a quick glance toward the door of the tea shop as she saw an elderly witch flip the cardboard sign to 'Closed,' likely eager to get home for the evening to see her family.
Turning the corner into Hogsmeade Square in the center of town, she tried to suppress her grimace as she hurried past the twins standing outside the entrance to the Hog's Head, their short, chiffon dresses revealing too much of the warm, brown skin of their legs for Hermione's comfort. They were always wearing the same colored dresses, one pale blue, the other lilac, each matching the ribbons in their long, dark plaits. Hermione had never actually been inside the Hog's Head, never having had the desire for those particular types of encounters. But she knew at least four women worked there, not that she'd ever bothered to learn their names.
Hermione was pondering why those women had never aspired for a 'proper' occupation when she collided with someone's back and fell to the ground, dropping her books in the process.
"Watch where you're going, Mudblood," she heard a voice sneer from above her. Hermione's eyes found the toe of a pair of pristine, black boots and moved upward, tracing the line of buttons on crisp, clean robes that were just as black as the boots, with the exception of the silver 'PP' sewn into the front pocket. The woman's flat face glared down at Hermione, attempting to appear superior in her standing position, but her expression faltered at the sound of laughter coming from the direction of the Hog's Head behind them.
Hermione's gaze shifted to where the twins were standing under the small awning of the pub, the one dressed in pale blue clutching the arm of a tall, handsome, dark-skinned man as her laughs trailed off into soft giggles. The sound of a soft whimper echoed in the air, and Hermione turned her attention back to the woman in front of her, noting how her expression had now changed to one of melancholy. Composing herself, her dark eyes darted around the area as if checking that no one saw her brief lapse of emotion. The woman then turned and rushed away from the Hog's Head, her straight brown hair twisting in the breeze of the wind.
Hermione frowned at the woman's obvious rudeness, then pushed herself to her feet and dusted off her robes, looking at the ground for her books. Bending down to regather them, her ears pricked up at the sound of a high-pitched whistle. She glanced over to the Hogsmeade station across the square and saw the train that had just rolled in, realizing that the woman must be one of the new visitors in town.
It seemed like a coincidence that every time she came into Hogsmeade there were new visitors. She wasn't entirely sure who they were or what their purposes here were. Her instinct to run from them was tampered down by the overwhelming feeling to be kind and welcoming. For some unknown reason to Hermione, these visitors tended to call her 'Mudblood,' the same word that was etched into her left forearm. She didn't know what the word meant, nor where the scar on her arm had come from, the letters now white where the skin around them had attempted to mend something that could not be healed. Sometimes she felt a bit confused as to why these strangers called her that and why she would suddenly feel a rush of indignation when she heard the term. But then she would remember she needed to get home and thought nothing more of the visitors nor the word 'Mudblood'.
Shrugging off the encounter, Hermione continued her trek toward the broom shed that was nestled into a corner next to the station. She momentarily slipped on the hem of her light brown robes as she neared the door, rebalancing herself as she pulled it open and selected a Comet Two-Sixty. A loud chime rang out five times, and she paused in her loading of the bag attached to the back of the broom to glance at the clock tower that stood opposite of the street she'd entered the square from. She admired the way the red brick tower stood above all of Hogsmeade, the light illuminating the face of the clock acting as a guardian watching over the small village, keeping them safe and staying lit so that wizards and witches could always find their way back home. Realizing it was now just after five p.m., she turned her attention back to the broomstick and sealed the bag with a flick of her wand to keep the books from falling out during her flight.
Hermione looked up at the sound of the door to the broomstick shed slamming and saw a redheaded woman in olive green robes emerging. The redhead appeared flustered as the freckles on her forehead wrinkled together, her left shoulder shoving Hermione as she stalked by.
"Excuse you?" Hermione snapped, annoyed that the woman hadn't even bothered to apologize.
The woman was already several feet away when she turned around and glared at Hermione, her long red mane of hair twisting around with her. Rolling her dark brown eyes in obvious irritation, the woman turned back around to continue walking but paused as she caught sight of the clock tower. She sighed as she stared at it, her eyes then closing as she took in a deep breath as if to temper a raging storm in her mind. Shaking herself out of it, the woman then continued walking toward the Hog's Head, the sound of her black heels clacking still able to be heard above the noise of the busy street.
Hermione pursed her lips as she took off into the air, feeling a light north wind push her hair out of her face. That previous feeling of annoyance she'd had was completely gone now. Up here in the air is where she truly felt comfortable. She'd always loved flying, it's how she'd been able to observe the birds she studied in their natural state.
Hogsmeade became a small speck on the ground below as she rose higher, now flying over the dense forest that kept the little village hidden from the Muggles residing several miles to the north. If she looked out far enough around her, she could see water way off in the distance. She sometimes wondered what else was out there, beyond the edge of the world she knew. One day the curiosity had overwhelmed her, and so she'd flown out as far as she'd ever been. But as she'd neared the shoreline, her excitement and anticipation were quickly replaced by an unyielding urge to go back home, and she hadn't felt the desire to explore since.
The tops of the houses of the Muggle neighborhood Stoneheart came into view, and she angled her broom downward to land in the forest behind her parent's house. She set the broom against the back siding, then removing her books and walking in through the door as her parents greeted her.
"Hey, Hermione. Did you get everything you needed from Hogsmeade?" her father, Richard, asked, his hazel eyes peering over his glasses as he looked up from his reading of the London Herald newspaper.
She smiled as she kissed him on the cheek before gesturing toward the books she was carrying in her hands. "Absolutely. I can't wait to start on them; I need to present some sort of preliminary findings to the Ministry early next week," she said excitedly.
"That's our Hermione, always eager to read a book," her mother, Helen, said as she walked through the door to the kitchen and hugged her.
Hermione smiled sheepishly as she watched her mother start pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. "Did you need any help with dinner, Mum?" she asked.
Helen waved her hand in dismissal as she glanced at Hermione over her left shoulder, her tawny curls twisting with the movement of her head. "No, no, I've got it. You go start your reading. I'll call you in when it's ready."
Hermione nodded, turned around, and walked into the living room. She set her books down on the small cedar desk in the corner, then picked up the book on Golden Snidgets and curled up on the overstuffed violet chair that her parents had named her 'Reading Chair.' The silver lettering on the front of the book glimmered as she opened the cover to Chapter One: Escaping the Bounds.
Several minutes later, her reading was cut off by the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. She looked up and saw her mother standing at the stove mixing some pasta together. Her father was standing behind her with his arms around her, humming and swaying his hips in an attempt to get her to dance with him. A small smile spread across Hermione's lips. Her life felt so perfect. She had a job she loved, working with her best friend Mary at the Ministry, and she got to spend time with her parents, still able to balance between the magical and Muggle parts of her life. The war had ended years ago, and she hadn't really thought about it since. She just knew that the world was at peace now and that she had no reason to worry.
Helen turned to reach for the salt shaker and noticed Hermione watching them in the kitchen. The older woman's coffee-colored eyes brightened as she returned a smile back to her daughter. She then handed the salt to Richard and headed into the living room, sitting down on the couch across from Hermione, an all-knowing grin spread across her face.
"So...how was work today?" Helen asked, lifting her eyebrows suggestively.
Hermione tried to act like she didn't know what her mother was referring to, but the sly smile that crept onto her face betrayed her feelings.
"Did you speak with a certain Mr. Wood?"
Hermione let herself smile fully now. She occasionally worked with Oliver Wood in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had been attracted to him for quite some time. He was a bit taller than her and thin, but still muscular enough that she could picture herself wrapped in his arms.
She nodded. "He's coming by tomorrow evening to pick me up for dinner."
Helen's eyes sparkled and she tried to suppress a squeal of delight. "You've been talking about him for ages. I'm so happy for you!" She reached across and tucked a handful of Hermione's brown curls behind her left ear.
Hermione's expression turned to nervousness. "I can't even remember the last time I went on a date. What in the world am I going to wear?" she asked frantically.
Her mother tutted. "Don't you worry, I'll help you get sorted out."
"Dinner's ready!" Richard shouted from the kitchen.
Helen gave her an excited grin, then stood and moved toward the dining table that sat in a small room offset from the living room.
Hearing her dad bring in the pasta from the kitchen, Hermione set her book down on the desk in the corner of the room and made her way toward the table, scooting her chair closer as she sat down. Her mother winked at her as her father asked how work was today, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at the thought of all that she had to look forward to in the coming week.
Hermione sat hunched over her Ancient Runes essay, shifting her hips as she tried to get comfortable in the stiff chair the library provided. Wanting to get as much of her homework done as she could while it was quiet as everyone was still in the Great Hall for lunch, she ignored the tickling on her cheek when the feather of her quill brushed too close to her face. She paused as she looked over at the book to her right to check her translation, the pages of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logogramslit by the sun shining in from the nearby window. The nib of her quill scratched against the paper as she started writing again. She needed to get the essay done now so that she could use her time later that evening to review for the upcoming O.W.L.s.
Her writing slowed as she felt a presence behind her. Shoulders tensed, she had a feeling she knew who it was, and chose to ignore them in hopes they would go away. Her optimism was pointless though as the person spoke up.
"I need that book."
The voice sounded muffled, and she turned around in her chair to look at the person, keeping her right hand splayed across the open pages of the book as if claiming it as hers. A boy was leaning against the wall behind her, his arms crossed as the sun from the window lit the blond strands of his hair. She tried to make out his face, but couldn't, his features smeared together as if someone had tried to use a dried up eraser to remove him from the scene.
"You can have it when I'm done with it," she bristled at him, peeved that he had interrupted her just because he couldn't wait his turn.
The boy pushed off the wall and moved closer to her, scoffing as he peered down at her essay. The assignment had only called for 16 inches but she'd already written two feet, needing to make sure her explanation of the translation and its meaning was clear and concise.
"Merlin, you're such a know-it-all," he said. His neck straightened as he stood back up to his full height, casually shrugging his shoulders. "But there's no fun in teasing someone who doesn't bother to fight back, so, I'll make you a deal."
Her chair scraped across the stone floor as she stood up, turning her back to the table and closing the book in question to cradle it in her arm. She actually didn't need the book anymore. She had just finished up the main part of the translation and only needed to write the conclusion of her essay, but felt resolute in not giving this boy what he wanted. Curious to see where this was going, she waved her free hand, indicating for him to continue.
"Give it to me, and I'll lay off Saint Potter for one week." Hermione wrinkled her forehead in disbelief. "Umbridge is using anything and everything to keep him in detention, and he's so easy to rile." Even though she still couldn't clearly see his face, she could feel him gazing disdainfully at her. "However, if I'm going to keep surpassing you in class, I need that book to finish the translation."
She scoffed, then narrowed her eyes at him.
"Two weeks," she offered.
"Deal," he immediately agreed, a slight lilt in his voice.
She nodded, extending the book toward him. His long, pale fingers briefly brushed the back of her hand as they wrapped around the book's thin spine, and she could faintly hear his breath catch. Heart thudding in her chest, she tensed, waiting for him to make a snide remark. But he didn't. Well, at least not about touching her.
"You should really learn the art of making deals." She could practically hear him smirking. "You never made any stipulations about Weasley."
Frustration coursing through her, Hermione reached out to take back the book from his hand, but he pulled his arm away, keeping it just out of her reach.
"Relax. I'm a man of my word."
She crossed her arms defensively, quirking a skeptic eyebrow at him.
"I promise."
Hermione was awakened from her dream by an ear-piercing scream from downstairs. She leapt out of bed and down the stairs, her 10-inch laurel wand clutched tightly in her right hand. Her stomach clenched at the sight that greeted her. The front door had been blasted open and was lying in the middle of the room, bits of splinters and glass littering the entryway. Another scream from her parents pierced the air, and she swung around the banister at the bottom of the stairs, turning the corner to see two shadows near the entrance to their room.
She ran the length of the hallway and shouted "Expelliarmus," aiming for the figure nearest her, but it was blocked. She felt someone move behind her, and the next thing she knew an arm snaked around her, pinning her arms to her sides as her wand slipped out of her hand in surprise.
"Stop struggling or it'll just be worse for them," she heard a voice rasp, the feeling of warm breath across her left ear causing her to shudder in revulsion. She ceased her movement, fearing she recognized the man's voice, but couldn't turn around to see who it was.
Her eyes roved around the room as she took in the scene in front of her. Her mother was lying on the floor next to the bed, the pale green comforter splattered with drops of blood. Helen was screaming in agony as the man standing in front of her kept his wand pointed at her, laughing as if seeing her tears was the best part of his day. The man holding Hermione kept his free arm pointed at the wall on the opposite side of the bed, using his wand to keep her father pinned there, forcing him to watch his wife being tortured.
Hermione then noticed the sandy brown hair of the other man, the small mole at the base of his neck, and a small tear on the left shoulder of his tan robes. The tear had happened this morning when his robes had snagged on a splinter in the door frame of her office.
"Oliv-Oliver?" she squeaked out, unable to control her shaking voice.
Helen's screams quieted as he lowered his wand and turned around, just now noticing that she had entered the room. He grinned. "Oh. Hello, Hermione." He stepped closer to her, twirling his wand between his fingers like it was a baton. "I know it's a bit early in our relationship, but I'm so glad I've had the opportunity to meet your parents." Oliver's eyes slid over Richard and Helen before he turned his attention back to Hermione. "They're such lovely people."
Hermione didn't understand. This world was supposed to be safe after the war; she had no reason to fear anything. People were kind, honest, good. Especially Oliver. He'd been gentle and sweet with her, using every opportunity he could to compliment her.
She'd stopped struggling against the man holding her, frozen in shock. Her eyes wide, she asked, "Why?"
Both men laughed aloud at this as if she was asking why the sky was blue. "Because why not?" the voice behind her asked.
"Justin!?" she shrieked, now recognizing the person restraining her. She started struggling against him again, trying to raise her knee to stomp her foot on his. Justin dropped his wand arm to wrap it around her as well and contain her attempts to escape.
"Keep a hold on her now, Justin. She should watch and enjoy the show. It'll keep her excited for her turn afterward," Oliver called over his shoulder, raising his wand again to aim at Helen.
Richard yelled as he jumped over the bed, released from his position on the wall when Justin had dropped his wand to constrain Hermione. Before he could reach his wife, Justin flicked his wand, and her father fell to the floor at the foot of the bed, clutching his hands to his chest where blood was seeping through his white nightshirt.
"Kill them already, will you?" Justin shouted. One of his hands lightly grazed the edge of her breast through her robes as it traveled slowly up Hermione's side, stopping to wrap around her throat as he brought his lips to her neck. "I'm going to take this one to the living room."
Hermione screamed again and started crying, desperately trying to get out of Justin's grasp to help her parents. Oliver snapped his wrist over his shoulder and a white light flew from his wand, hitting its target as she folded over and clutched her side where a searing pain had started to spread. Justin dragged her out of the room, and they were halfway down the hall when she heard the two Diffindos. Her parents' yells of terror and suffering ended.
The silence was deafening. Hermione felt petrified, her body going limp as she stopped struggling, stopped trying to fight back.
After everything her parents had done for her, accepting the new world she was a part of, letting her move back in when she couldn't find any friends to room with, she'd failed to protect them. They'd always encouraged her to read books and find something new to learn each day. But she'd never been brave, never been daring. She'd just studied her birds. And now she wished she could turn into one and fly out of there, escape to a different life where she didn't have to remember how much of a failure she was.
Hermione gasped as Justin threw her on the floor of the living room, shards of glass digging into her left arm where she had landed on it. Justin stood at her feet, his eyes roaming over her as he slowly licked his lips like he was trying to choose a plate from a dessert tray. She didn't even want to imagine what he was thinking about.
Oliver then entered from the hall and started running around the room, knocking books off of their shelves and pulling drawers out of her desk to upend them. Was he searching for something? Was this why they had attacked her and her parents?
She'd worked with them at the Ministry, been friends with them, trusted them. And they'd betrayed her. And her parents were…
What was the point in even trying to survive this?
She let her head fall to the side away from Justin and noticed a large piece of glass underneath the overturned chair next to her. It was big enough for her to wrap her hand around and use as a weapon. The odds were against her, she knew there was no way she could overtake both Oliver and Justin. She could just as easily end her life and be free of this misery, go out in her own way.
She slowly inched her hand under the chair, twisting onto her side so that the movement of her arm was blocked from Justin's view. Her hand wrapped around the glass, the sharp edges digging into her palm as she felt warm blood start to trickle down her wrist.
Oliver paused his searching of the room, stopping to stare at a picture frame from her desk. Justin looked over to where his companion stood, and Hermione used his momentary distraction to her advantage.
She brought the shard of glass to her throat and pressed down, dragging it across the thin skin of her neck to expose it to the world. She couldn't see or feel any blood and wanted to scream from the pain, but couldn't as she felt darkness take over.
Now, she could be at peace.
Several hours later, a sallow-skinned man in dark grey robes stalked through the open doorway of the house. His black Oxfords crunched the glass beneath his feet as he moved toward the brunette lying in the center of the living room. He stopped to push his black hair out of his line of sight and looked down at her.
Loosening the sleeve of his right arm, the hornbeam wand slid into his hand. He pointed it at the woman lying on the floor.
"Rennervate."
Wide eyes shot open as she gasped, sitting up and moving her hand to her neck, searching for a cut or trace of blood where there was none.
Hermione looked around the room frantically, her panic and confusion increasing when she noticed the man standing in front of her. She tried to crab walk backward to get away from him but cried out when her lacerated hand landed on the edge of a splintered leg from the dining table.
Severus Snape knelt down in front of her, careful not to let his knees settle on any of the debris that littered the room. He locked his eyes with her own.
"Calm down," he said.
She obeyed. Her breathing evened out as she sat upright, her hands coming together in front of her in her lap, perfectly still as if awaiting further instructions.
He cursed. It hadn't worked.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, trying to control the snarl of frustration in his voice.
"No," she answered, without hesitation.
Severus groaned, pushing himself to a standing position. With a flick of his wand, she fell back, eyes closed again. She looked peaceful, untroubled. Perhaps it would have been better if she just stayed that way, rather than being forced to live this loop over and over again.
Faint voices echoed in the silence of the night. The brats from Property Maintenance would be here soon to take her in and reset the Obliviate and Imperius on her and the Muggles.
He moved toward the kitchen and turned around, eyes darting across the room to make sure he'd left no trace of being there. Black eyes froze when they landed on the light blue cover of an upturned book, silver letters shimmering in the moonlight. His lip curled in an embittered sneer.
Violently spinning on his heel, Severus Disapparated, landing on the balcony at the top of the clock tower that overlooked Hogsmeade.
His hands wrapped around the steel railing, trying to stop himself from pacing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the feel of the cold wind biting at his face.
She'd failed.
Well, he'd failed.
Hell, at this point, the whole wizarding world had failed.
Raucous laughter resounded from the only lit building in the square below. Three a.m. and the Hog's Head was still open, a beacon of welcoming for the visitors that came here after departing the Hogwarts Express.
The train wasn't really the Hogwarts Express, though. Neither was this town the real Hogsmeade. Both were now nothing but piles of ash.
The façade before him was the entry point for a 'prison' designed by Lucius Malfoy. In his desperate attempts to regain favor with the Death Eaters after being freed from Azkaban, he'd come up with the idea that those who rebelled against the Dark Lord could be repurposed for entertainment and monetary value rather than wasting away in cells.
The prisoners here underwent a sort of psychological torture, living some mundane life where they thought they were perfectly safe, unaware of what was really going on in the world. Some captives were assigned to actually turn dark against their friends, forced to attack people they had once allied with, such as those who had attacked Granger. Others just went about their day until visitors decided to hunt or 'kill' them, reveling in the game this 'park', as it was now called, provided them. One of the first things Severus had had to do was cast a protection spell over this place, lacing it with unicorn blood so that the prisoners could be severely injured but never actually die. 'Can't have our guests permanently damaging our property, now could we?' Lucius had said to him.
His knuckles whitened as he clenched his hands around the railing. How had it come this far? He'd only meant to do as Dumbledore commanded and play his role as a loyal Death Eater, appearing useful at all times while still secretly working against the Dark Lord. He'd helped Potter escape Little Whinging and given him the Sword of Gryffindor. They'd had it planned out, believing they understood what the Dark Lord would do once he had his hands on The Chosen One.
However, both he and Dumbledore had been wrong. With this prison in mind, Voldemort chose to capture Potter instead of killing him, thinking Lucius might not be totally useless after all.
Four years. It had been four years since that day in the forest. Four years since the savior Harry Potter had been seen.
Four years of Severus failing to protect Lily's son.
Although he wasn't in the same situation as the rest of the prisoners, going directly to Potter wasn't an option. Loathe he was to admit it, if anyone could understand how to break through these curses, rescue The Chosen One, and finish off the Dark Lord, it was Hermione Granger.
Close with Potter, aware of Dumbledore's plan, and an annoying know-it-all he'd had to suffer with for six years, she was his last hope to fix the mess they were all in. He'd been leaving her clues, hiding them in plain sight within the confines of the loop she lived, hoping she would realize where she was and what was really happening around her.
He'd already tried stopping the Obliviate a few times to get her to break the Imperius on her own, but she'd just become hysterical before collapsing, her mind shutting down in its confusion of not knowing who or what she was. He'd also removed the Imperius and tried talking to her directly, but the previous Obliviates had completely removed any trace of the real Hermione Granger; all that was left was a warm body with an empty mind.
He'd just have to leave more hints for her, put more people in her path that she once knew. Obliviate and Imperius were powerful enchantments, but it was possible to resist the Imperius, there had to be a way to break through the memory charm.
He was jolted out of his thoughts at the sound of voices getting louder and the door to the Hog's Head slamming open. The din softened as the door closed again, and in the faint light of the street lamps, Ginny Weasley emerged from the pub. She tilted her head back and looked up at the stars in the night sky above, her shoulders shaking.
A few minutes passed, and the shaking stopped. She brought her hands up and covered her face, using her fingers to swipe at the corners of her eyes.
Her gaze then shifted to the clocktower, the sight of it seeming to give her some sort of encouragement. Then composing herself, she turned around and went back inside the pub.
Muffled banging and shouting rang out from the face of the clock below the balcony Severus was standing on. With a flick of his wand, he silenced it, making a mental note to talk to the Head of Infrastructure about reinforcing the soundproofing of the room below.
Pale hands released their grip from the railing as he pushed back, standing at full attention at the thought he'd just had.
Lucius was responsible for the idea of this prison, and his dear son had done what he could to appease his father by serving as the Head of Infrastructure. If his train of thought was at all possibly headed in the right direction, he would need to start keeping a closer watch on what Draco was up to.
Even after his death, Albus Dumbledore was still inspiring him to explore the capability of the oldest and most powerful magic that existed.