Inside the Blackest Heart Part 4
Hermione felt like she had been run over by a tribe of mountain trolls when she awoke early the next morning. She was so stiff she could barely move. Every part of her ached and throbbed, except for her head. It still felt abnormally clear. The witch pulled herself to the edge of the bed and opened her nightstand, taking out a piece of parchment and a quill. She scrawled a note to Madam Pomfrey explaining that she needed five vials of healing draught, two vials of pepper-up potion and two vials of replenishing potion, being that Professor Snape had requested she pick them up for his stores yesterday and it had slipped her mind. She then summoned a house elf, who looked at her rather suspiciously but delivered the note to the medi-witch. In a few moments, he returned with the vials and left.
It had gone just as easily as Hermione thought it would. Her signature at the bottom of the parchment had assured Madam Pomfrey compliance. It had never crossed the healer's mind that Hermione would lie about such a thing. As Hermione drank down the draughts, she considered how much she could get away with at Hogwarts if she wanted to. Her squeaky clean image and the staff's favoritism would cover a multitude of sins. Then she shook her head. Where the hell had that come from? Feeling a bit better, Hermione walked to her wardrobe and collected her wand, divestoing her clothing. She paid for that. Her knickers were stuck to her and were ripped away by the spell along with a few pubic hairs. Ouch!
She walked into the bathroom, plugged the tub and turned the jasmine scented spigot on high, filling the tub quickly. Before entering she tapped her thigh and a tiny blue square appeared. It glowed. She must have used the contraceptive patch correctly. She had stolen it from the infirmary yesterday afternoon while Poppy was in her office looking for some information on a healing spell Hermione had told her she was interested in studying. This wasn't a strange request from the Gryffindor. She had been taking university courses in Spell Making for the past two years, which was arranged by Albus and often asked teachers and staff for spells to dissect. She had quite an aptitude for spell enhancement and development. Actually, this was the capacity Albus intended to use her for. Anyway, Hermione had taken the patch and the spell info and left. She read the instructions and applied the protective charm. Apparently it worked.
Hermione added the two vials of replenishing potion to the tub and slowly sunk down into the warm, scented water. She could feel the potion invigorating her and sighed with relief as the last of her aches faded away. She washed quickly, and exited the tub. She felt as if she hadn't eaten for weeks and breakfast sounded pretty good. Now all outward traces of Snape were washed from her. The soreness inside was diminished greatly. There was a little sting, but Hermione could deal with that. Actually, it comforted her in a strange way. It was proof that last night really did happen. She caught a look at herself in the mirror and was glad she did. Though the pain was gone, there were several finger-shaped bruises circling her neck, bluish-purple testaments of Professor Snape's violent need for compliance. Hermione applied a glamour spell, covering the bruises. As she dressed she idly wondered how the Potions Master made it through class every day without strangling or injuring anyone. His temper was horrible. She guessed he was capable of restraint in certain situations. Situations where there would be witnesses anyway.
Her mind went back to the night before, when the Headmaster called the Potions Master to the floo. Though she wasn't fully in control of her senses at the time, she had heard everything. Now that she had a chance to consider the exchange between the two wizards, it seemed very cold of the Headmaster to give Snape misinformation to give to Voldemort that would result in him getting severely punished. The Headmaster sounded dismissive of the Potions Master's claim to be at risk. The Headmaster knew how bad Snape's punishments were. He and she had witnessed the Professor's return to Hogwarts a shuddering, seizuring, vomiting mass of pain on a number of occasions. She was rather surprised that Albus evidenced no desire to alleviate the possibility of punishment. The Headmaster could easily set up a false front to cover the plan so it looked as if there really was a transport. It wouldn't be difficult. Order members could play the roles. It was almost as if the Headmaster wanted his spy to suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord.
This thought led to another, more disturbing one. The statement the Professor had said about the Headmaster not allowing her to change any of his plans for her. She thought at first that the Professor was trying to unsettle her, get into her head and play a mind game. But after she witnessed the Headmaster's callousness to his one and only spy's welfare, she thought that maybe Snape wasn't exaggerating the situation. Over the years, Hermione had wanted to take classes that she was interested in, only to have McGonagal talk her out of them and redirect her to other classes 'more suited to her future'. There had also been seminars she wanted to attend that she couldn't because something else 'important' came up, like suddenly having to chaperone first year field trips. There had been a lecture series she was very interested in, called "The Faces of Good and Evil: Is There a Difference?" that touched on how good and evil worked to reach their aims. She had been assigned some extra duties by Dumbledore himself that made it impossible for her to attend.
Hermione was getting a rather cold feeling in her belly, almost the opposite of yesterday of the warm, achy yearning she felt when she was waiting to see the Potions Master. It made her feel a bit angry. She left Gryffindor tower and headed for the Great Hall, unable to shake that feeling of coldness inside her.
It was fairly early when she arrived at breakfast. There were few students there. Her stomach did a little flip when she looked up at the Head table and met the dark eyes of the Potions Master. His eyes flicked over her, then returned to his meal. Dumbledore was also at the table. He was looking at her, his blue eyes raking over her, a slight frown on his face. Hermione colored. The Headmaster knew she had been with the Potions Master, and what she had done with him. Well, she was of the age of consent, there was really nothing the wizard could do. What was done, was done. She sat down to the table, and proceeded to pull every platter she could within reach and piled her plate high with food. She tucked in.
Snape watched the young witch eat with a slightly amused look on his face. He had a hearty appetite too this morning, but it was funny to see such a small witch with such a huge plate of food in front of her. She ate every bit of it too. She looked no worse for wear. She must have found some way to fix herself up this morning. Even he had to take a draught to ease his sore muscles. The staff door opened and Madam Pomfrey walked in. The medi-witch stopped beside him.
"I hope you aren't too hard on Miss Granger, Professor," the medi-witch said to him.
The Potions Master started.
"What?" he asked, scowling at the medi-witch, wondering how much she knew.
"For forgetting your supplies yesterday. She wrote a list of the potions you needed for your stores this morning, saying she forgot to retrieve them for you yesterday. A house elf collected them and she should be restocking your stores shortly. The girl has a lot on her mind, Professor, not to mention countless responsibilities. She is entitled to make a mistake once in a while," Poppy said, giving him an imploring look.
Hermione had stopped drinking her pumpkin juice and was looking with horror at Madame Pomfrey speaking to the Potions Master, who had a scowl on his face. Suddenly his black eyes shifted to her as the medi-witch continued talking. Uh oh, she was busted.
Poppy stood by the Potions Master, nervously clasping her hands, obviously distressed about how he would treat Hermione for her lapse. The Potions Master looked up at the medi-witch.
"She can restock today. It wasn't a pressing issue in any case, Poppy," he replied smoothly.
The medi-witch sighed with relief. She noticed Hermione staring up at her with a worried look on her face, and smiled at the young witch, giving her the thumbs up sign…unaware of the Potions Master's narrowed gaze he was giving the witch. Snape turned to the medi-witch again.
"Ah, do you remember exactly what potions she requested? I was quite distracted when I gave her the list," he asked.
"Certainly," Poppy said, rattling of the list of potions Hermione had requested. When she finished, Poppy bid Snape a good day and continued on to her breakfast.
He leveled his eyes at Hermione, who sunk down on the bench a bit. So. No wonder she was in such good shape. She falsely requisitioned healing supplies in his name. This was an expellable offense. She had used her good standing at Hogwarts to break not one, but several rules and get what she needed. If Poppy hadn't been such a chatterbox, he would have never known. Quite a Slytherin-like act on the part of the Gryffindor. He approved, though he would take her to task for it. She had gotten caught after all. When you do wrong, it's of no consequence if you don't do it successfully. He also had some leverage over her now. He would keep it filed away in case he needed to blackmail her for some reason. He knew that Dumbledore would keep her from getting expelled if he did report her, but she didn't know that. Much better to tuck it away.
He looked at her appraisingly. He wondered if she would have done such a thing before he popped her cherry? Use the trust of others to manipulate them. Hm. Maybe Miss Granger had even darker tendencies than he realized. He watched as she rose from the table and exited the Great Hall. He sat there a moment. Then rose and left quickly through the staff door.
Albus watched them both go, his blue eyes dark behind his half-moon spectacles. He wasn't liking this. Not one bit.
Hermione walked quickly through the Main Hall, not knowing where she was going to go, but knew she needed to lie low for a bit. Poppy had certainly told the Professor about the potions she had requested in his name. She'd have to see him in class, but there others would be present. She just didn't want to face him alone. She headed for the main doors, figuring she'd loiter outside for a bit. The Professor rarely went outside.
She had just placed her hand on the door to push it open when a familiar silky voice called out,
"Miss Granger, I would like a word with you."
Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. She turned around to see the Potions Master gliding toward her, a scowl on his pale face. She stood there, waiting for the storm to break, wondering if he would put his hands on her.
Snape walked up to the witch, and stood closer than necessary to intimidate her, and possibly bring to mind his much closer positions of the night before. She looked up at him with wide, scared eyes.
"You are looking quite fit this morning, Miss Granger. Quite fit," he said in a low voice.
"That's because recently I had a good workout, Professor," Hermione replied, deciding in an instant not to let him cow her. Her eyes narrowed defiantly. She wasn't in his study now. He didn't have any power over her. She straightened and her chin set.
"I don't think it was the 'workout' that has you so fit, Miss Granger. I think it is the cure for the workout that has you in such good shape. A cure you illegally requisitioned in my name. Each potion you received is an expellable offense, Miss Granger. And you took several," he said, his eyes glittering at her.
"You had quite a bit to do with my need for those potions, Professor. It was only right that I acquired them in your name," Hermione retorted. "You didn't expect me to totter around the castle today like a bow-legged old woman did you?"
The Potions Master fought back a smirk. Reverse justification for an obviously wrong act. She was turning it around on him. Nice.
"I can have you expelled," he said quietly, waiting for the explosion of pleading to come. It didn't. The witch suddenly pushed past him, and whirled on him, her eyes flashing.
"Go ahead! Get me expelled! You'll probably be doing me a fucking favor!" she spat, storming off up the main stairs and toward Gryffindor Tower without a single glance back.
The Potions Master just blinked after her, not moving. Where the hell had that come from? Plus, she actually cursed when talking to a teacher, not to mention walked away from one before being dismissed.
Damn. He really had turned her out.
The Professor turned and walked slowly toward the dungeons. He never dreamed he'd hear Hermione Granger say, "Expel me." Not the brightest star of Hogwarts. She sounded like she thought that might be a good thing. Hm. He glided down the dungeon corridor, unaware that a disillusioned Albus had witnessed their exchange.
The Headmaster had left the Great Hall right behind the Potions Master, casting the semi-invisibility charm wandlessly on himself, and followed him. He had been within hearing distance of their exchange, and was shocked at Miss Granger's response that he might be doing her a favor getting her thrown out of Hogwarts. This was not good. Miss Granger was starting to rebel. He knew the signs. He had invested too much in the young witch to have her bail out now. Her Spell Making skills were already formidable.
The Headmaster had been following her progress closely and the university was quite impressed with her, stating she could be the youngest and most powerful Spells Mistress in the history of the wizarding world and even showed signs that she could be a Primordial, once she reached maturity. This information Albus quickly hushed up. His methods of doing so were less than savory, but required. An obliviate here, an accidental death there and Hermione's secret was safe. Even from her.
There were only a handful of Spell Masters and Mistress, but there hadn't been a Primordial for over twelve hundred years. Primordials were wizards or witches that served as conduits for all magical forces, and could gather, manipulate and direct those forces any way they liked using only the force of their wills. Which meant that one day Hermione would, if she were indeed a Primordial, be able to simply think what she wanted accomplished and magic would obey her. She would need neither charm nor spell or wand. Which would also make her the most powerful magical being in existence. If Albus controlled Hermione, he would control the not only the wizarding world but all worlds.
Dumbledore had not revealed this possible ability to Hermione, allowing her to think it was her mind that made her valuable, and it was in part. Her brilliant mind coupled with her increasing magical abilities, gave her, and not Potter the greatest chance of destroying Voldemort. While the Dark Lord focused on killing The-Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore nurtured his real nemesis without disruption. When Voldemort was out of the way, the Headmaster could pursue his own ends, using Hermione to reach them. It had all been going so well. Until now.
Albus cursed under his breath. He knew Snape would pollute her, damn him. By having sex with the young witch, and taking away her innocence, Snape probably hastened her evolution into the mature stage that would trigger her Primordial powers, if she truly had them. And she wasn't properly conditioned yet. Damn him! Albus would have to get the young woman's mind back on track somehow. He would call her in for a little talk this afternoon, and get her grounded again while warning her off Snape.
The Headmaster scowled in the direction Snape had taken. The Potions Master was valuable, but he'd better watch his step. He knew better than most that sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the 'greater good."
Hermione stormed into the common room. Harry and Ron were there, sitting on one of the comfy sofas, and polishing their brooms. Which they shouldn't have been doing. They looked up at Hermione and smiled. Their smiles faltered when they saw the dark look on her face.
"Hey Mione, you all right there?" Harry asked, putting down his broom, rising from the sofa and crossing the room to face his friend. "You look as if you're ready to cast the Killing Curse."
Hermione looked into Harry's concerned green eyes, and let out a sigh.
"I'm all right Harry, just a little stressed," Hermione replied, giving him a small smile.
"Mione, if you're stressed, there's a great way I know of to relieve that, you know," Ron said, waggling his red eyebrows suggestively, "I'd be willing to help you out. You know, being friends and all." He gave her a goofy grin.
Ron still had a slight crush on Hermione, though he was regularly shagging Padma Patil, his current witch-at-arms. Hermione looked at Ron, her amber eyes slightly frigid. Ron quailed at the look she gave him. He had no idea what she'd been through the night before, or with whom.
"Just joking," Ron said lamely, "Thought a laugh would cheer you up, is all."
Hermione sighed again. "I'm just not in a laughing mood, Ron," she said to the red-haired wizard. She looked at the broom polishing kits on the floor in front of the couch.
"You know you aren't supposed to be doing that in the common room," she said, hating she had to be the one to make them follow rules. Who really cared where they polished their brooms as long as they didn't make a mess?
Both wizards looked at her, then began to gather up the kits.
"Sorry, Head Girl," Ron said sullenly.
Hermione glowered at him.
"You know Ron, I wouldn't have to nag at you if you just followed the rules in the first place," she said tightly.
"Hermione, you like bossing us around and you know it," Ron retorted, "you like the power. Admit it. Everybody has to listen to you and you love it."
Hermione's fists clenched and her face flushed with rage. Harry blinked at her.
"Calm down, Hermione. You look like you're going to explode," he said, a worried look in his eyes.
"I've been around you for seven years, Ron, and you don't even know me!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears and running up the stairs. Harry went to follow her, forgetting the staircase's nature. He almost made it to the top when the stairs went flat, and he slid unceremoniously down the slope and across the common room floor on his belly.
"Shit," he said, getting up and brushing off his robes, looking at the stairwell and up to where Hermione had disappeared around the corner. He turned on Ron.
"Why do you have to aggravate her so much, Ron? You know how much stress she's under," Harry said as he glared at his friend.
"I was just being honest, Harry. She's like a little, what's that muggle's name?…a little Hitler. She rules with an iron wand," Ron replied, "If you can't be honest with your friends, who can you be honest with?"
Harry glowered at him.
"You could have chosen a better time to be honest. You saw she was already upset. We didn't even find out why," he said, sitting back down on the couch and taking out his polish again. He opened it, and looked at it strangely.
"Hey, what's wrong with my polish?" he asked, tilting the little tin can. The polish had dried out shrunk and was hard as stone.
"Looks like it dried out," Ron said, examining it. He opened his own can. His polish was the same way.
"Blimey!" he said, shaking the shrunken block of polish around in the tin.
This was really, really strange.
Hermione wrestled with her bedroom door, wrenching at it wildly until she remembered it was warded. She was about to pull out her wand when suddenly the door clicked and slowly swung open. Hermione looked at the open portal a moment, then rushed into her room and flung herself on the bed, still sobbing. Ron was such an asshole. What made it worse was he was supposed to be her friend, and even he saw her as someone who enjoyed lording power over others. He couldn't see she was put in this position and was simply trying to live up to the responsibility she'd been saddled with. She wasn't the one in power here, it was those who assigned her these duties who held the true power.
The witch sat up on the side of her bed and wiped her eyes, sniffling. Crying like a baby wouldn't help her situation any.
Suddenly Hermione felt a strange shifting sensation, and became disoriented. The room began to spin and her limbs became heavy as stones. The witch fell back on the bed, her eyes rolling up into her head as the sound of a rushing, thunderous wind surrounded her. Suddenly all went silent.
Hermione was floating in darkness, rocking gently as if she were drifting in water. Slowly an image formed in her mind. She saw herself against a backdrop of Hogwarts, dressed in her Gryffindor robes. There were numerous strings tied to he wrists and ankles, and she was being bounced helplessly around the landscape. She had no power of movement of her own, her arms and legs useless beneath the bindings around them.
She looked up, following the strings to their point of origin and saw her surroundings were false, she was on some kind of set. Above her was a vast opening and huge faces were looking down at her, twisted and dark. She had to peer hard to make out their features, and saw they were visages of all her teachers, and the Headmaster.
His blue eyes were terrible as they looked down on her, filled with a maniacal hunger, fire dancing across the sickle-shaped half-moon glasses. His mouth was crooked cruelly. Next to him, McGonagal gazed down at her with glowing cat's eyes. Madam Sprout held her strings tightly in gnarled, limb-like fingers. Even Professor Flitwick looked like a small demon, his eyes narrowed, sparse white hair curled into devilish peaks, his small, moist lips turned up in a snarl. Every teacher that ever taught her was there, pulling on her strings. All except one. Professor Snape. He was nowhere to be seen.
Puppet-Hermione began find strength in her limbs, and struggled against the strings. The more she struggled, the harder she was bounced around, the teachers pulling on her bindings savagely in an effort to control her. Then the strings turned to chains and she was manacled to them. The links clanked and rang metallically together as the teachers pulled her higher and higher, letting her drop further and further.
Her bones began to pop out of their sockets, cracking and breaking, her head flopping about uncontrollably, blood seeping through her garments, staining her robes. And still they bounced her about, jerking and wrenching her until her body gave out and she was literally torn to pieces, her body parts dripping crimson, twirling slowly in their metal bonds.
Hermione gasped and sat up in her bed quickly, feeling herself all over and shuddering at the awful vision. She was covered in perspiration and her hands were shaking badly. She hugged herself tightly, reassuring herself she was still in one piece. What a horrible vision. Still shaking, she rose from her bed and walked into the bathroom to the basin, where she turned on the cold-water spigot and splashed the frigid water on her face several times. Gasping from the chill liquid, she raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Haunted amber eyes set in a pale face looked back at her. She stared at herself for a moment as if looking at a stranger, someone she didn't recognize.
You've been bent to the wheel without your conscious knowledge. Your whole life in the magical world has been one long march to servitude. Once you are in, the Order will never let you go, Miss Granger. Dumbledore will never let you go.
Professor Snape's words came back to her, a warning before he bent her to his own wheel with her full consciousness, then let her go.
Hermione stared at her reflected image a little longer, Snape's silken words threading through her head over and over. She thought back to what she had learned during her short time in Trelawney's wooly Divination class. She had not been asleep, so she didn't have a dream. She had a vision. It was a straightforward vision as well, the meaning not hidden in deep symbolism. To interpret it, she merely had to amplify what happened in it. She was in a false surrounding, a built set, a construction. A setting someone had made. Created to surround her so she couldn't see what lay behind it. Her teachers were holding strings attached to her, and she was unable to move on her own. They made her bounce, jump from here to there. That would be their guidance. The strings were their guidance. So she was being controlled by the guidance of others in this false setting, a Hogwarts that wasn't what it seemed. When she gained the power to move on her own, the manipulations became more controlling, evidenced by the strings changing to chains. As she became older, more stringent responsibilities had been placed on her, responsibilities she was obligated to fulfill. The chains.
In the vision, when she struggled against the chains, or rebelled, the control became more brutal, causing her pain. Causing her to break. Those who manipulated her ultimately destroyed her rather than let her move on her own. According to the vision, the ones controlling her were her teachers and Dumbledore. According to the vision, if she rebelled against the guidance she was receiving she would be destroyed in some way.
Hermione pushed herself away from the sink, and walked back into her bedroom, looking at the clock. It was almost time for Potions class. Professor Snape was the last thing on her mind as she gathered her books together. The dark wizard had been superseded by the vision she received. There were things she had to find out, and soon.
She pushed her books into her backpack, closed it and slipped it over one shoulder. She exited her bedroom and slowly walked down the steps to the common room. It was empty. Ron and Harry must have gone to class. She walked toward the common room entrance when there was a great whooshing noise behind her. She turned around to see the head of Albus Dumbledore in the floo.
"Miss Granger, I was hoping to catch you," the Headmaster said pleasantly, "I would like to see you in my office this afternoon about threeish, to discuss some things."
Hermione stared at the Headmaster, not speaking and not realizing she was staring as the image of her vision super-imposed itself over his smiling features, and he became dark and evil.
"Miss Granger? Miss Granger! Are you all right my dear?" Albus said worriedly.
Hermione snapped out of it as the Headmaster's face returned to normal.
"I'm sorry Headmaster. I just zoned out for a second there. Three o'clock you said?" Hermione responded, trying hard not to show a reaction to what she had just seen.
"Yes, at three," the Headmaster confirmed.
"I'll be there, sir," Hermione said, "But now I have to go or I'll be late for Potions."
The Headmaster's eyes darkened at the mention of the Potions class for a moment, then cleared. Albus smiled at her brightly.
"All right my dear. I will see you this afternoon," he said. Then his head disappeared out of the floo.
Hermione let out a deep breath. The super-imposed image over the Headmaster's face had been frightening. What was going on?
If you don't believe me, when you leave here, test it. Disagree with one of Albus' many plans for you.
Again, the Professor's words came back to her. She was starting to half believe him, evil as he was. Hermione decided she was going to test the Headmaster and see if he would balk at any changes she wanted to make. There was one change in plans she had been considering making right after graduation. She would put that on the table when she went to see him. His reaction would let her know how close to the truth her vision was. After all, what she experieced could be a psychological reaction to Snape's words and not a true vision at all. Well, she would find out this afternoon.
Hermione hurried out of the common room. She had only ten minutes to get to Potions class.
Hermione walked into the Potions class exactly one minute late. The Professor had been browbeating the students for dismal marks on the last assignment when she entered. He fell silent and scowled as she walked up the aisle, sidled through the chairs and sat in her normal seat. She made quite a bit of noise slinging her backpack down and taking out her books. She was so preoccupied she wasn't aware of the Potions Master staring at her blackly as she settled in. Finally she folded her hands and looked at him expectantly, then realized he had been staring at her silently since she entered the class. The other students all grimaced, waiting for the Professor to light into her.
"Are you settled in now, Miss Granger?" the Potions Master said evenly.
"Yes sir," Hermione responded in a small, embarrassed voice.
The Potions Master arched an eyebrow at her.
"You were late, Miss Granger. Not only were you late, but you also disrupted my discourse on the usual inadequacy of the latest marks earned by this group I loosely call students. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor," he said.
"Whatever," Hermione snorted under her breath.
The Potions Master's brow furrowed.
"And another ten points for muttering," he added.
Hermione's housemates groaned as Hermione looked at the Potions Master mutinously. But she didn't say anything.
The Professor continued his tirade against his pupils for another ten minutes until he had them all, with the exception of Hermione, squirming in their seats. He gave them a reading assignment to once again review information they had previously studied. They had to write a summation at the end of one meter. Pages rustled as the students got down to work. The Potions Master returned to his seat. With hooded eyes he watched Hermione reading rapidly, her amber eyes scanning the pages left to right. Finally he spoke to her.
"Miss Granger, a word at my desk," he said.
Hermione looked up at him, sighed and stood up, sidling past the empty chairs and approaching his desk.
"Your behavior after breakfast this morning was entirely unacceptable. You used profanity when speaking to a teacher, and stormed off without being dismissed. You will serve three days detention…"
Here Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at the Potions Master. He was crazy if he thought she would return to his clutches. She still ached as it was.
"…with Argus Filch," he concluded, his black eyes meeting hers. He could see she thought she would be serving it with him. He could also see that she had no intention on serving it with him if he had assigned it. He had no doubt she would have taken the write-ups. She was acting completely out of character.
"Yes sir,' Hermione replied, clearly relieved to be assigned to Filch. He would probably have something disgusting for her to clean, but at least she would leave the caretaker's presence walking normally.
"As for your other violation," Snape continued, "we will settle that at another time. Return to your seat."
Hermione walked back to her seat and sat down, amazed that the Professor didn't press the issue of the illegally acquired potions. He probably intended to hold it over her head. Well, she didn't care. She wasn't going to let him manipulate her. She returned to reading.
The Potions Master pretended to read over a few parchments on his desk, but he studied the young witch. She had a defiant set to her jaw. He could see that she was determined not to let him get under her skin. She didn't appear the slightest bit concerned about the potions incident. It was as if she just didn't care. He looked at the stubborn set of her face again thoughtfully.
He had expected some residual submissiveness on her part after last night. He had been her first after all and had really laid pipe to her. He had locked her body down and rode her for all he was worth, placing her limbs in holds that rivaled any muggle-wrestling move. She had been under his complete control, subjected to his every whim. Yet she faced him without the slightest bit of deference when he confronted her today.
She also evidenced none of the usual uncomfortable reactions of a woman that's been ravished by a man who cast her aside afterwards. There was a slight flush this morning at breakfast, but that had been it. Suddenly the Professor felt he hadn't been rough enough. But he had been. The only other thing he could have done to brutalize her further was beat her. Was it possible that underneath all that Gryffindorness, Miss Granger was as callous as he was? Had she used him every bit as much as he had used her? She had been reamed soundly, had multiple orgasms and afterwards, stolen potions in his name using his treatment of her as justification. All in all, she had got what she wanted. And then some.
Snape had a feeling if the sorting hat were placed on Miss Granger's curly head today, she would definitely be sorted into Slytherin House. She wouldn't be a bad addition either. He smirked as he thought about how Albus would take Miss Granger's shift in attitude if she made it known. The old coot favored Gryffindor house, despite being the complete opposite of what it stood for. He would hate to see Miss Granger displaying Slytherin traits. Of course he would blame Snape, but the fact was he couldn't make Miss Granger turn dark. It had to already be there, beneath the surface. If anyone were responsible, it was Albus himself. His manipulations had made the witch deny parts of herself that if had been allowed to come to the surface, would have worked themselves out. As it stood, an ocean of resentment probably seethed under the surface of Miss Granger's apparent dedication to duty.
If the young woman discovered for certain how the Headmaster had manipulated her, then her anger would make her rebel against him, and all that resentment would come pouring out to make itself known in many nasty ways. If Miss Granger weren't dark…she would become that way and quickly. Nothing changes a person more than to discover the things they believed in were all lies, and the people they trusted were not worthy of trust. She would turn away from everything Albus had groomed her for and begin to live her own life with a hunger to acquire the things and experiences previously denied her, everybody else be damned. She'd become Slytherin through and through, susceptible to the lure of using evil tactics to acquire what she felt good for her own well-being. How Snape would LOVE to see that happen. It would be a more honest, satisfactory life for the witch than the one she was living now, and the one Albus had planned for her. It had the added appeal of driving the Headmaster wild.
Hm. Not that driving Albus wild was a good thing. Miss Granger could find herself locked in a small room someplace, forced to work for the Order anyway, with a cover story of having been abducted or killed by deatheaters. Albus wasn't beyond imprisonment if it would get him what he wanted.
Hermione's amber eyes flicked up at the Potions Master for a moment. He met them evenly before they dropped back to the book. There had been nothing in her gaze. She had just looked up from her text for a moment. The Potions Master watched as she unrolled her parchment and began to write quickly. His eyes swept around the room. The other students began writing as well, intense looks of concentration on their faces. He knew most of the summaries would be suitable for wiping his ass with, but he still had to mark them anyway.
Soon the students were bringing their parchments up with apprehensive looks on their faces. A small pile of summaries sat on the edge of his desk. Miss Granger had been the first to give him her parchment, as usual. He rewarded her with a scowl.
Soon it was time for class to let out. He called Hermione to him again. The witch actually had the audacity to sigh in exasperation as she approached him again. He took out a quill and a piece of parchment.
"I want you to present this parchment to Filch when you serve detention. It is a suggested list of chores to do," he said smoothly, dipping his quill in the small bottle of ink on his desk.
Hermione frowned.
"But Filch gives out his own punishments," she said, agitated.
"Yes, I know. But you're a special case. I just want to make sure the chores are, shall we say, challenging enough." The Professor smirked as he put the quill to the parchment. Hermione had a black look on her face.
He made a few scratches, then looked down at his quill. It wasn't writing. He must not have put enough ink on it. He dipped it into the bottle again. It came up dry.
He picked up the inkbottle and shook it. Something rattled inside. He turned it over and shook it over his pale palm. Some crumbly bits of dried ink dropped out.
"Hm. That was a new bottle," he said to himself.
Hermione stood there with her arms folded, wishing the Potions Master would hurry up. Snape reached in his drawer and retrieved another bottle of ink. He shook it and a liquid sound came from the bottle. He opened it and set it down. He dipped his quill in it and applied it to the paper. A thin black line started, then petered out. The Potions Master looked at the quill.
Hermione sighed loudly. He looked up at her sharply, and she shifted her eyes away.
Snape dipped his quill into the inkbottle, and again it came up dry. He picked up the bottle and shook it. It rattled. Something hard was inside. He tilted it and again small crumbles of dried ink fell out on to his desk. He looked up at Hermione, who was slouched in a sullen position now, looking impatient. Snape looked at the inkbottle, puzzled, bringing it close to his ear and shaking it. He looked up at Hermione.
"Just go, Miss Granger. I will finish the list and send it to Filch myself. Five points from Gryffindor," he said dismissively.
"What for!" Hermione said.
"Being impatient," Snape replied, still shaking the inkbottle against his ear.
"Ooh!" Hermione breathed, stalking from the Potions Master's desk, grabbing her backpack and storming out of the door.
Snape took the inkbottle down from his ear. He shook out a little more dried ink on his desk and studied it.
"Extraordinary," he said.
A/N: Thanks for reading. More to come.