Hermione was already bored with her Mythology book and she hadn't even read it all the way through. Even though the stories were supposedly based on historical characters, it read like fiction. In fact, it seemed to her that this book was really just a book on the different Muggle Mythologies with a note here and there reminding the reader that these deities were in fact witches and wizards. Unfortunately, fiction just didn't captivate her thirst for information the way nonfiction did. And reading this book felt like a waste of time when there were so many more pressing matters to attend to. Like defeating Voldemort.
But Hermione could not bring herself to brush off the connection between this book and the text on Chaos theory which she had brought from her parents' house. So far, the contents of the Mythology book had not seemed relevant at all to Chaos theory, except that Chaos was one of the first deities, along with Love. But Hermione decided she would at least finish reading it once before returning it to the Black library.
Inevitably, Hermione's mind began to wander. Athena in Greek Mythology was named Minerva in the Roman. How fitting that Professor McGonagall would be named for the goddess of war and wisdom. Well, if Professor McGonagall was Athena, who were her other professors? Professor Sprout would definitely be Demeter, the Earth goddess of the harvest. Professor Dumbledore would have to be Zeus, naturally. Flitwick was a bit more difficult to place, but Professor Snape would definitely be Hades.
Struck with inspiration, Hermione turned to the section on Hades. In Greek Mythology, the three brothers—Zeus, Poseidon and Hades—drew lots to determine who would rule over which part of the Earth. Zeus was given the heavens, Poseidon the sea, and Hades was sent to rule the Underworld. That seemed horribly unfair, and strikingly appropriate for Snape's position as a spy. After all, someone had to rule over the Underworld, and Hades was the sacrifice to the cause.
Except that Hades was never pictured as a victim. He was always depicted as a snarling bastard, just like Snape. Even the etymology of the name fit the surly Potions Master: unseen. The book described him as passive, not evil, and as maintaining balance within the world. And who could possibly maintain that balance better than Severus Snape?
At that moment, Ginny slipped into the room. "Mum sent me to let everyone know that supper's ready," the youngest Weasley said before slipping back through the door to find the boys. Mrs. Weasley had taken to sending the girl up rather than shouting, as the latter tended to wake a certain screaming portrait. Hermione happily set her book aside and slipped out of bed to follow her friend down to dinner.
Hermione was one of the few to notice that Severus Snape did not join them at dinner. She idly wondered if he was avoiding contact with the rest of them, or if he had been summoned back to the Underworld.
Miles away from the joyful atmosphere of Grimmauld Place, Severus looked out on a much darker gathering. Lucius's parties were getting more and more elaborate as he gained more and more favor with the dark lord. This time, he had taken the trouble to have several muggle women brought in as entertainment. In years past, the Death Eaters had enjoyed abducting innocents to bring to their celebrations. More recently, however, Lucius had decided that hiring professionals was much more gratifying, as there were fewer pitiful tears to ruin the occasion. The strippers would still scream when the tables inevitably turned against them and the wizards took control, but screaming was part of the allure.
Severus had learned to hide his disgust behind a façade of snobbishness, and after so many revels it was practically routine. However, the image of Peter Pettigrew drooling into the bleached blonde hair of a young woman as he thrust her heavily cosmetically altered Stunned body into the couch was enough to make even Severus cringe and turn away.
He caught the eye of his Master, who beckoned his faithful servant to his side. Severus obeyed immediately, trying to hide his concern at the dark lord's request. "Severusss," Lord Voldemort hissed as the professor approached, "why do you not partake of the cccelebration?" Severus bowed his head slightly in humility.
"My Lord, there are those who live for pleasure and there are those who live for purpose." The snake-man laughed at his response.
"The two are not mutually exclusive. Have you no interest in the bounty?" Severus was almost sure that it was pure curiosity and not suspicion that drove the dark lord's questions, but only fools would ever claim to know Lord Voldemort's intentions.
"It is too easy," he found himself saying. It was often a challenge to find a suitable excuse for his behavior, but he had grown accustomed to thinking on the spot. "I enjoy a good challenge. One cannot satiate what is not yet aroused."
"Ah, you prefer to struggle for dominance. You enjoy the chase." Severus inclined his head in agreement.
"Unlike many of my brothers, I am quite accustomed to having the upper hand. Therefore, it holds no excitement for me when I am given the opportunity to force an already submitting woman to submit. I find it boring." The dark lord laughed and Severus suppressed a shiver that itched at his spine.
"Perhaps one day we will find a woman who will put up a fight for you."
Severus returned to Grimmauld Place a little after midnight. He usually came up with an excuse to leave before the real fun began. It already made him nauseous to look into the eyes of the girls who were brought to Malfoy Manor, knowing that they would not be leaving. He could not stay to watch them die. Powerless, he thought, I am completely powerless.
As was the norm on nights such as this, Severus slept very little, his dreams twisted with the naked bodies of the women he knew would now be dead. As was customary, he rose before dawn, finally accepting that he would get no more rest, and headed down to the basement kitchen for a cup of tea. Rest was not worth the nightmares.
He was the first to the kitchen and set about brewing a pot of tea. As he sat there, in the dark and silence, he couldn't stop the images from leaping into his mind. Pettigrew. That disgusting rat should have been butchered years ago. He pressed his thumbs into the corners of his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to sooth an impending headache.
It was all because of Pettigrew, really. Pettigrew had betrayed Lily and James. Pettigrew had nurtured the dark lord back to health. Without Pettigrew, lord Voldemort may never have returned to power. And yet, on that one night so many years ago, when Pettigrew escaped to rejoin his Master, Hermione Granger had broken the law and used a time-turner to save Sirius Black. But she did not kill the rat! It was one thing that she had trusted Sirius enough after a two minute explanation to believe him worth the effort to save, when all of the literature suggested that he was a madman hell-bent on murdering Potter. She had even trusted Remus Lupin, when she knew that he was a werewolf. And a part of him, very deep down and admittedly petty, resented that she only trusted himself because Albus said so. But what really irked him was that she had gone back in time to save that useless mongrel, but had not managed to destroy the one mangy vermin who would be integral to the dark lord's rebirth and subsequent rise to power.
It was all her fault. And while she slept, somewhere in this very house, peacefully unaware of the horrors of the world, a dozen young women were dead tonight. At Pettigrew's hand. At her hand. And his own personal hell was a reflection of one silly, little girl's scrambled priorities.
Before Severus knew it, the house was awakening and the residents of Grimmauld Place were slowly filtering into his sanctuary. The lights were on and the buzz of cooking and chattering drowned out his heavy thoughts. But he would not join in the cheery conversation. He knew better than them. The world was not a cheery place and it was no use pretending that it was.
When Sirius Black slunk into the room, Severus found his eyes rooted to the happy man. Did he know the cost of his own freedom? Severus would not have hesitated to sacrifice this man to kill his old pal, Pettigrew. To him, it was a no-brainer. Yet, Black had no appreciation for the life he continued to have, but rather spent his days whining pathetically. At the moment he was standing with his back to the door, animatedly telling Molly how wonderful it was to have someone cooking for him again.
Suddenly, Granger was in the doorway, once again rubbing sleep from her eyes. He noticed that her shorts were not turned inside-out this time, but she was still without undergarments. In fact, he was alarmed to notice just how obvious that was through her thin, white t-shirt. She lifted a hand to Black's arm, as if to excuse herself past him, and he swung around to face her, immediately taking in her appearance. It was clear from the way his eyes lingered on her pert breasts that he had noticed it too.
"Hermione!" the mutt shouted, causing his head to throb horribly. Black flung his arms wide and pulled the girl tight into his embrace, lingering just a little bit too long. "Good morning! How did you sleep last night?" Severus was irritated to note that Granger only looked mildly surprised by the vehemence of this greeting. In fact, she looked rather pleased.
"I slept well," she murmured sleepily. "How about you?" Severus watched her stifle a yawn and glance obviously at the stove as Black responded. Well, at least one thing was clear: the attraction was not mutual. As the girl went about preparing a plate, Bill and Fleur entered the small kitchen and Severus decided that it was definitely too crowded. So he left.
Hermione was draped across the couch in the study, reading while she waited for their next Occlumency lesson to begin. She had finally decided that she could just hold onto the Mythology book and finish it bit by bit while she started on something more interesting. This time, she decided to forsake the more chaotic method of choosing a book randomly from the shelf for the more tried and true tactic of choosing a text on a subject that actually interested her. This one was all about spell writing. She knew that Harry's Potions book—once belonging to The Half-Blood Prince, whoever that was—contained a series of invented spells in the margins, but she had never understood the theory behind creating a new spell. There were so many questions flitting through her mind. I'll have to ask Professor Flitwick when we return.
Suddenly, the door was swung open and in swept Professor Snape. The dramatic effect was a bit dulled by the fact that neither of the boys had arrived yet and she was currently stretched out across a couch. "Hello, Professor," she said distractedly, her eyes not leaving the words on the page for more than a polite acknowledgement of her teacher. As she continued to read, she suddenly became aware of a prickling at the back of her neck, and realized that he was scowling down at her. Blushing, she slipped a bookmark between the pages and set the book aside, twisting to sit attentively and face the professor.
For a moment, neither did or said a thing. But they both knew that this lesson could not begin until the boys showed up. Hermione adjusted her position nervously and Snape stalked over to the window, staring out at the dull evening beyond. From this vantage point, she could stare at his back and he would have no way of knowing.
He could certainly play the part of Hades. Dark robes billowing around him, even indoors. In contrast to his sickly pale skin, it was a pretty sinister effect. Hermione's lip quirked up as she realized that being locked away in the dungeons with the other Slytherins was very similar to being locked away in the Underworld with the demons, right down to the fact that there was no sunlight either place. And just as Hades was the king of the demons, Severus Snape was the Head of Slytherin.
The boys finally slipped through the door and headed toward Hermione, obviously trying to be sneaky. But Hermione knew that the Order spy was not fooled so easily. Studying him, she noticed a tension in his shoulders when they entered the room, as if he had suddenly become even more perfectly still than he had been moments before. Then, with a sweep of his long arms, he closed the heavy drapes in front of the window. The effect was dramatic as it darkened the room ten shades in the space of an instant. Harry and Ron were obviously put on edge, and Hermione could feel her own heart pounding in her chest.
"Last lesson, I gave you each directions for meditations and practices that you could work on alone," the dark professor began. His lips turned up in a sneer that would curdle a Hufflepuff's blood. "Raise your hand if you have complied with this request." Hermione's hand immediately shot in the air. Harry and Ron both hesitated, but raised theirs as well. "Ah, Miss Granger, your favorite reflex. Did you learn nothing last lesson?" Hermione blushed and let her hand slowly drop down to her lap. "As for the two of you, it is inadvisable to lie to a man who is about to read your thoughts." The boys blanched simultaneously and lowered their hands as well.
Properly chastised, the three wide-eyed Gryffindors sat like statues of ice, forced to watch and wait as the inferno before them stepped closer and raised his wand.
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