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Without waiting for a response, he pressed his finger against the ugly black tattoo and screwed his face up in concentration. That mark was definitely more than a Protean Charm.

A few minutes later, the door slammed open and Severus Snape stormed in.

Prisoners and Captives

Part One: Malfoy Manor

Chapter Six: Exploding Snape

"You were to tell me the moment the Mudblood awoke, Malfoy," Snape said quietly. Hermione had known Snape long enough to realize that unlike most people, when he was angry he was more inclined to whisper than to shout.

"I-I told my father, Professor. I thought he'd passed it on to you."

"He didn't," Snape almost whispered.

"I'm sorry," Draco said miserably. "Please don't tell – Him."

Draco sounded so pathetic that this time Hermione actually did feel sorry for him. Apparently life as a Death Eater wasn't at all like Draco had expected it to be.

"Your cowardice does you no good, Draco," Snape said derisively. His voice was slightly louder than it had been. "However, I shall let your error pass. This time. Know, though, that if you fail me again, the Dark Lord will be…most displeased."

"Thank you," Draco whispered. He sounded close to tears.

"How long has she been awake?" Snape demanded.

Draco glanced at his watch. "Nearly two and a half hours."

"Idiot child! You should have summoned me sooner. Perhaps I should have left Wormtail with this job and let you remodel the grounds with your dear Auntie Bella."

Draco shook his head mutely; his eyes were brimming with tears. It was almost embarrassing to see how frightened he was. Not that Hermione didn't understand his fear – she wasn't too keen on spending any more time with Bellatrix Lestrange, herself. She couldn't imagine living in the same house as her, having to see her every day…again, despite herself, Hermione felt a twinge of pity for Draco Malfoy.

Snape reached inside his robes and extracted a potion. He turned to Hermione and thrust it at her, his attention on her for the first time.

The instant her eyes met Snape's cold, dead ones, Hermione felt a surge of anger. This man had killed Dumbledore. He'd betrayed the Order and everyone in it. In a way, he was responsible for every death that had occurred since he sold Dumbledore to Voldemort.

"Take it, Granger," Snape ordered. His voice was dangerously quiet once more.

"First prove it's not poison, or Veritaserum, or anything I don't want to take," Hermione said.

"Take it, Granger, or I'll force you to."

"You wouldn't," Hermione said, sounding braver than she felt. "You're in charge of my healing; you can't use magic on me, you said so yourself."

"I didn't say I would use magic. Now take it, or I will force you."

Summoning up all her courage, Hermione looked him in the eyes. As frightened as she was, she needed to find out where the line was.

"No."

And then he was at her side, batting away her flailing arms to grasp her jaw and force her mouth open. Hermione tried to twist away but to no avail. She was still too weak.

"Draco, the potion," Snape said calmly.

A few seconds later, Draco was standing above her. He uncorked the phial and, without looking at her, poured its contents down her throat. Snape forced her jaw shut and pinched her nose tightly, forcing her to swallow or suffocate.

She swallowed – she couldn't help it – and Snape let go of her. Hermione bent over, coughing and spluttering, but her headache had subsided. Her jaw hurt, though, and she was sure it would bruise.

"Going to cooperate, Granger?" Snape asked coldly.

"It's not as if I have a choice," Hermione snapped. Snape ignored her, instead reaching inside his robes and withdrawing a small Muggle torch, a reflex hammer, and several other medical instruments.

What followed was strangely like a Muggle physical. Snape took her temperature, her blood pressure, her reflexes (which were much too slow, but Snape didn't seemed concerned; apparently it was a typical side-effect of a prolonged Cruciatus – had she never known that or had she forgotten?).

In fact, though all the results indicated that Hermione was not nearly as well as she should be, Snape seemed completely unconcerned. He didn't speak other than to give orders such as "Granger, give me your arm" or "Draco, the stethoscope" ("The what?" "That," Snape said, pointing).

And then he checked her eyes. Frowned. And checked them again.

"You have a mild concussion, Granger," he said.

"Oh," said Hermione.

"You shouldn't," Snape continued. "Unless you suffered any trauma to your head today?"

"Er," said Hermione, thinking back to the episode with Lucius Malfoy.

Snape's nostrils flared. "By whose hand?" he asked, his voice definitely now a whisper.

"Malfoy's," Hermione said, then as Snape turned on Draco, brandishing his wand, she realized her mistake.

"No! Not him!" she shouted, or rather tried to – her voice was still too hoarse to manage a shout, but thankfully it was loud enough to catch Snape's attention. He turned back to her.

"You wish to retract your statement?" he murmured.

"To qualify it," Hermione said shakily. She did not like the look he was giving her. "Lucius Malfoy. Not Draco."

Snape lowered his wand. Draco backed away to stand against the wall. His expression was a mixture of confusion and relief.

"What did Lucius do?" Snape asked, his voice still dangerously low.

Hermione flushed. Her gaze flickered to Draco, then back to Snape. "Slammed me against the headboard. Threatened me," she said.

"With what?"

Hermione looked away, her cheeks redder than ever. She really didn't want to tell. She shouldn't have answered him in the first place.

"With what, Granger?" Snape repeated. Hermione looked down at her bedspread. Dark green. Slytherin green.

Snape exhaled through his overly large nostrils. "Granger, tell me what he threatened you with or I will bring him back here to demonstrate."

After their last confrontation, Hermione knew he wasn't bluffing. And maybe if Snape knew, he would keep Lucius away from her. It wasn't that she thought Snape liked her – far from it – but he was responsible for her health and he seemed to take that responsibility seriously. So maybe she would tell him.

But Draco – Draco didn't have to know. It would give him a weapon to use against her. Or maybe he wouldn't believe her. Or maybe the knowledge would hurt him. She didn't know how to predict Draco Malfoy anymore.

She looked sidelong at Draco again. His skin was very white, even paler than usual. He looked as if he didn't want to hear what she was about to say.

Maybe she could ask Snape to send him out of the room, but would Snape do as she asked? And did she really want to be left alone with Snape?

The answer to that was an emphatic No.

"Granger, last chance," Snape said, pushing up his sleeve.

"Stop!" Hermione gasped, terrified. "Stop! I'll tell."

He looked at her expectantly, and when she didn't answer prompted, "What did he threaten you with, Granger?"

Hermione looked down at the bedspread again. "Rape," she whispered miserably.

Snape exhaled furiously again. "And did he act on that threat?" he murmured.

Hermione shook her head, still staring at the bedspread. She moved to clasp her hands over the green and noticed the pale purple bruises encircling her wrists. Snape saw at the same moment and grabbed one in the instant she tried to move it away.

"How did this happen, Granger?" he asked sharply. This wasn't good. His voice had gotten so quiet that it had nowhere to go but up. Which meant that Draco could hear.

"I told you, he slammed me against the headboard," she said.

Snape grabbed her other wrist, forced them together, and pulled Hermione up against the headboard so that she was in the same position Lucius had put her in.

"Like this?" Snape asked. His voice was getting increasingly louder.

"Yes," Hermione whimpered. She was terrified. What was he going to do?

"And then what?" Snape asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said tearfully. "He threatened me, that's all, okay? He just threatened me and looked at me and that's all."

Snape dropped her wrists and stepped back calmly. Hermione looked down. A tear dropped onto the green bedspread, quickly followed by another. She had never been more humiliated in her life.

Snape nodded and turned to face Draco. "I should send you to Bellatrix for this," he hissed.

"Don't," Draco said tremulously. "Please. Don't. I'm sorry. I won't mess up again."

"Granger?" Snape asked. "Would you rather have Pettigrew as your minder? Or Narcissa Malfoy? I assure you they would likely do better than young Mr. Malfoy here."

"No," Hermione whispered.

"Qualify that no, if you would, Granger," Snape said, parroting her earlier words.

"No, I want Draco Malfoy to stay," Hermione said quietly, and glanced up at Snape. He stared at her for nearly a full minute before nodding.

"Very well. Mr. Malfoy, take these," he pulled several small phials of potions from his robes and placed them on the dresser. "Give her one every two hours exactly. I'll send a house-elf with more this evening."

"Yes sir," Draco said quietly. "Thank you."

Now it was Draco's turn to be studied. Finally, Snape nodded and without another word, strode out of the bedroom and locked the door behind him.