Disclaimer: This is story is unofficial and written not for profit. It is in no way connected with J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books or Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. It is not endorsed by any of the aforementioned parties. Rights to characters and places is neither claimed nor implied.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the previous chapters. I really appreciate all your comments! I can't believe how many views this story has been getting from people all around the world - it is totally awesome! 'Hello' to all the new people now following this story - I hope you enjoy reading this chapter.


Chapter 4 –

Spinners End

Hermione felt her body lurch forward as a result of the apparition. She fought against the arms that held her tightly as she twisted her body to one side. She wretched and the firm hold on her relaxed slightly. Hermione responded by narrowly missing her captor's large black boots as she threw up onto the cracked pavement below. She crumpled back into the sturdy arms that held her. Never before had she reacted so badly to travel by apparition. Hermione groaned and screwed her eyes together even tighter, she wasn't sure which was worse; the pain throbbing through her head or the waves of nausea.

After a moment, they began to move steadily forward. The heavy footsteps seemed to resonate down the street and an alternating pattern of light and darkness attempted to filter through Hermione's eyelids. Her eyes fluttered open once again as they passed directly underneath the glare of a street lamp. The orangey-yellow light bathed the street an ominous glow.

The narrow road was lined either side with a rows of decrepit brick houses. The orange electric glow from the street lamps glinted off their vacant windows in the darkness. Hermione got the impression that many of the houses were currently unoccupied or that they had perhaps, been altogether abandoned.

He hadn't attempted to look at her, but she knew that, the man carrying her was aware that she was once again conscious. Anxiously, Hermione fixed her eyes on the ground as if attempting to memorise the cracks in the pavement. Without her wand it would be completely futile to make any attempt at an escape. Even if she did have her wand, Hermione didn't think that she would able to stand unaided, let alone make a run for it.

They continued along the dilapidated street until they reached the end of the terrace. The streetlight opposite flickered ominously, casting eerie wavering shadows across the front of the last house. Hermione shivered, unconsciously gripping onto her captor's billowing dark woollen robes as the door was opened and they entered.

Hermione was carried directly into a drab little sitting room. She was abruptly deposited on an ancient looking couch; the floral cushions were faded and almost threadbare from use and age. Instinctively, she glanced upwards only to glimpse the familiar hook-nosed profile of her former teacher. Hermione gasped. She quickly turned her head, fixing her gaze on the vacant fireplace opposite her, not daring to make eye contact. For the moment she couldn't bring herself to even think his name, let alone look directly at him. It wasn't that long ago, that she had still been defending him and trying to get the boys to refer to the man using is proper title. A wave of guilt coincided with another bout of nausea. A knot tightened in her stomach – if only she believed Harry in the first place! Perhaps then, things would be different...

Unsure, Hermione glanced around trying to make sense of her surroundings as he swept out of the room. The flickering street lamp outside filtered through the window, erratically providing the room with a measure of illumination. The walls seemed t bear down on her and it took a moment for her to realise that they were entirely covered with shelves of precariously stacked books. If anything, the room seemed to make her headache even worse. She tried to refocus on the rickety table and the dejected looking armchair that sat to one side of the fireplace.

Suddenly, a candle filled lamp that hung from the ceiling, sputtered into action casting a dim pool of light over the centre of the room. Hermione jumped when she noticed the Professor's presence. Snape stood in the doorway at the back of the room; as he stepped forward, his dark eyes seemed to scrutinize her. As he approached, Hermione shuddered under his gaze. Unnerved, Hermione wondered how long he had been standing there in the darkness watching her.

Turning to the fireplace, Snape pointed his wand at the grate and whispered "Incendio."

Immediately, the fire burst into life giving out a wave of heat and light. With another flick of his wand the heavy curtains snapped closed across the window; blocking out the orange flicker of the faulty streetlamp outside. Hermione watched as Snape placed an assortment of items, including number of small jars, vials and bottles, on the table. Without another word, Snape abruptly left the room once more. At his departure Hermione breathed a sigh of relief; in doing so she let go of a breath that she hadn't previously been aware she had been holding.

Hermione's relief was only momentary. From nowhere, she heard a disturbing high pitched whistling sound. It began very quietly and gradually built into a piercing screech. Suddenly, it relented; trailing off as it wavered and decreased in pitch. Hermione's heart pounded in her chest and she felt yet another wave of nausea, although this time she was sure that it was predominantly caused by her heightened nerves. Hermione didn't think that anyone would ever be able to describe Snape as 'friendly' – not even the Slytherins – but now she was positively scared of him.

Once again Snape returned; this time he was carrying a large wooden tray which he gently placed on the table. Anxiously, Hermione glanced over at it, unsure as to what she should expect. The first thing she noticed was a bizarrely dainty tea service that wouldn't have seemed out of place at someone's grandmother's house. Hermione almost laughed when she realised that the whistling noise must have come from a boiling kettle. It was a relief to know that it wasn't something more sinister. Still, she had no idea what to expect, or even where she was.

Hermione was very glad that she managed to maintain her composure, for at that very moment Snape turned his attention to her. She froze, barely daring to breath, as he loomed over her. Snape waved his wand in an artistic manner, all the while muttering a complex charm. In response, Hermione cringed. Her recent experience telling her that a Death Eater pointing a wand at her almost consistently resulted in pain. To Hermione's alarm she watched as her arm began to glow, and then her foot and her chest.

"Breath, girl!" he commanded.

Instantly, she did as she was told. Hermione drew a large breath, only to startle when she noticed little lights had begun to twinkle blue and green around her head. In panic she looked up, finally meeting her former teacher's eyes. Snape solidly met her gaze, raising an eyebrow in response.

"Please... don't -" Hermione began to plead, pulling herself up and pressing back against the arm of the settee.

Snape picked up one of the bottles that he had placed on the rickety table and thrust it in her direction.

"Drink," he commanded.

Hermione looked circumspectly at the bottle of blue liquid that she was presented with. "W-w-what is it?" she asked quietly.

"I haven't got all night, Granger!" Snape snapped. "If I had wanted you dead, then I would have left you the capable hands of a certain witch, with whom you have recently become rather well acquainted."

Tentatively, Hermione reached out her hand and clutched the open bottle with her shaking fingers.

"Well?" Snape questioned impatiently.

Hermione nervously bought the potion to her lips. She paused under the potion master's unrelenting gaze.

"Get on with it!" Snape barked at her as he sank back onto the old armchair.

Startled into action, she took a large gulp of the cool blue liquid. Upon realising what she had done, she instinctively spluttered, which in turn made her start coughing. When she had righted herself, she noticed the amused smirk that had spread across the wizards face.

"Finish it," he ordered calmly.

Tears began to well up behind Hermione's eyes as she once again placed the bottle to her lips. Not knowing what else to do she began to sip the mysterious potion. Snape steadily watched her until the last drop was gone. Instantly, he exchanged the empty bottle for another, this time filled with potion the colour of pond-water.

Snape motioned for her to once again drink the concoction that he had handed her. Although it is never wise to unquestioningly drink an unknown potion, let alone two, she really had little choice in the matter. Choking back another sob, Hermione tentatively began to do as instructed. The potion distinctively tasted of peppermint.

"Peppermint?" she gasped.

"Indeed," replied Snape impatiently.

"But that means that this – this is a headache potion!" she stated.

"I am perfectly well aware of that fact," stated Snape. "As always Granger, you seem to feel the need to state the glaringly obvious."

Hermione gaped at the frustrated look on the potion master's face. "But – but why?" she asked.

"Why? " Snape looked at her blankly. "If you feel that you are not in need of the potion... then by all means refrain from drinking it."

He reached forward to reclaim the potion.

"No! I do... I am..." Hermione exclaimed. "I mean, urrm... thank you. I am ... my head does... it hurts."

"By all means," Snape smirked, withdrawing his hand.

When she had finished the headache relief potion, Snape handed her another potion. Hermione looked questioningly at Snape.

"General pain relief," he huffed.

Hermione nodded, accepting the potion and drinking it quickly. To Hermione's relief her many aches and pains began to diminish as the potions began to take effect. A moment later, she watched as Snape withdrew his wand from his robes. Hermione could feel her heart rate rise once more. Bending forward, he removed one of her shoes. Hermione recoiled as pain shot up her leg.

"Granger!" growled Snape. "You need to keep still."

Snape tapped Hermione's foot with his wand and muttered "Ferula". In an instant, bandages spun around her foot and ankle, strapping it lightly to a splint. He turned back to see the face the surprised looking girl.

"There is a minor fracture and the ankle has been sprained," he stated. Snape then picked a large bottle clearly labelled 'skele-gro' and poured a measure into a glass that had been brought in on the tray. "This should help to repair your ribs as well as the ankle."

This time Hermione took the potion without question. She wasn't sure why Snape was helping her, but she couldn't help but feel grateful. Then again, perhaps he just wanted to keep her alive so that Voldermort could use her to get to Harry-

Suddenly, Hermione's musings were cut short. "Episkey" said Snape. Hermione's nose made an unpleasant crunching noise and began to feel very hot, and then it went very cold.

"Broken nose," Snape said simply.

Pointing his wand at her once again, he muttered, "Tergeo." The sticky tracks of drying blood, dirt and tears vanished from her face. She instantly felt much better, helping her to relax a little. A small clock on the mantel piece chimed the hour; it was one o'clock. It had only been a matter of hours since she had been sitting in the tent with Harry and Ron. Now, she was a prisoner and the Sword of Griffindor was in the hands of a Death Eater.

Snape took a step back, drawing her attention once more. With a sudden flick of his wand he then banished her tattered outer clothes. She squealed and anxiously wrapped her arms around her waist. He responded to this display by giving her a somewhat scathing look before covering her with an old crochet blanket.

Finally, Hermione relented, exhausted and confused she simply watched as her former teacher administered a number of cleansing charms, bruise relief salve and Essence of Dittany to the many cuts and bruises marring her body. When he seemed to have finished, he readjusted the old blanket that covered her and sat back in the armchair. He then proceeded to pick up the floral teapot and pour out two cups of tea. Wordlessly, he handed one to Hermione and settled back to drink his own.

The tea was rather stewed, but Hermione welcomed the strange sense of normality that it brought. Snape had picked up one of the large tomes and appeared to feel it unnecessary to pay her any more attention. The warmth from the fire combined with the analgesic potions began to make her feel drowsy. Realizing that she wasn't in any immediate danger, she gazed into the fire and gradually became lost in her thoughts.

Hermione hoped that Harry and Ron were somewhere safe and dry. All that she could do was hope that they would be careful and avoid doing anything stupid. Likewise, she had no idea what would happen to Dean. She began to feel a lump rise in her through when she remembered the twisted smile that had flickered across the face of the dying goblin. In that moment, he had saved her life – well, at least for the moment.

Then her mind turned to her own situation. She was half naked and wrapped in a blanket, trapped in this bizarre little parlour sipping tea in a somewhat amicable silence, with the man who had murdered Dumbledore and betrayed the Order! Her emotions rumbled around, fear and hatred bubbled along with gratitude and guilt. He had saved her from Bellatrix's wrath and tended her wounds, he had even made her a cup of tea. Even if Voldemort did want to use her to capture Harry, why would he take such care of her? It didn't make sense. Hermione glanced over at the man sitting in the chair opposite her; Snape was definitely up to something.

Instinctively, Snape seemed to have felt her eyes upon him. He looked straight at Hermione and snapped his book shut. Hermione flinched at the sound, apparently not quite as relaxed as she had thought.

"Don't move Miss Granger," Snape growled. "We wouldn't want to have to repair your ribs again."

Hermione nodded her agreement.

"How is your head?" he asked.

"My Head?" queried Hermione

"Yes, Miss Granger, your head!" retorted Snape. "I know it must be difficult for you to identify that part of your anatomy when it's not hidden behind a book..."

"It is umm... fine ... well my headache isn't as bad as it was." She stated. "Why?"

"You suffered a mild concussion," Snape clarified as he recast what she presumed to be a diagnostic charm.

"Oh," she said, noticing that this time, fewer areas of her body started to glow.

"Unfortunately, all that bushy hair of yours proved insufficient protection" Snape sneered. "However it seems that you have now sufficiently recovered so that it is safe for you to get some rest."

Picking up one of the vials left on the table, Snape expertly flicked his wand in her direction. "Mobilicorpus" he muttered.

Hermione felt herself rise gently from the settee. She watched in astonishment as a doorway appeared in the wall of books in front of her. The door swung open to reveal a narrow set of stairs. She clutched at the faded blanket as she moved steadily forward, and up the staircase.

She could hear Snape's footsteps following her on the creaking treads. She gripped even more firmly onto the blanket, pulling it tighter to her body as the landing opened out in front of her. It was small and had three dower looking doors leading from it.

"Stop fidgeting Granger," Snape hissed.

She glanced anxiously in his direction. This was worse than flying on a broomstick – at least then you had some sense of control along with something to hold onto.

Snape stepped forward and casually pushed one of the doors open with his free hand. Carefully, he directed her body into the room and lowered her gently onto a single bed. Relief seemed to flood her body as she settled back onto the sheets. Quietly, she was impressed with the skill demonstrated by Snapes execution of the charm.

Snape loomed over her once more. Hermione gazed up at the austere man.

"Drink this," he ordered, handing her a small vial containing a purple potion.

"W-what is it?" Hermione stammered.

Snape stared down at her, as if daring her to question him further.

Carefully, she removed the stopper and sniffed the potion. It smelt strongly of lavender and valerian.

"Its –its a sleeping draft!" she exclaimed.

"Well done Miss Granger," replied Snape impatiently. "Ten points to Griffindor! Now get on with it."

Once again, he had left her no choice in the matter. Nervously, she took a sip of the potion.

"I-I am sure that I don't need -" she stammered.

"You may not feel that you need it, Miss Granger," he replied formerly. "However, I would rather not have one of Minerva's cubs wandering around my house in the dark."

"N-no," she mumbled. "I won't take it -"

Snape sighed in frustration. "Do not argue with me girl!"

He snatched the vial from her with one hand. With the other he pinched her freshly healed nose and pushed her head back; causing her to yelp. In that instant, he poured the potion into her mouth. Unable to breath, she was forced to swallow the liquid.

"That wasn't so hard. Was it?" he stated with an amused tone, as he relinquished her nose.

Hermione grimaced. 'How dare he do that,' she thought as she glared angrily at him.

"I will leave you to rest," he smirked as he threw a large quilt over her. "I am sure that you have had a somewhat trying day."

Something in the familiarity of his sarcastic tone made her anger dissipate. Perhaps, there were worse things than being put to bed and forced to take a sleeping draft. Surely, Bellatrix would not have been so mild in her attentions, she mused absently as the potion began to take effect.

Hermione's eyelids started to feel heavy and gradually began to close. As her mind drifted into unconsciousness, she barely noticed the wizard sweep out of the room and carefully shut the door behind him.


Authors note: Many thanks must also go to my very own *whistling platypus* for checking all my grammar, punctuation and spelling (even though they can't spell 'dirigible plums'!)