Another update! So soon, I know! Well, I had the day off… I hope I haven't scared some of you off with my little turn toward darker fanfiction, but I haven't gotten much feedback for the last couple of chapters, so I'm a bit worried. Hang in there, guys! I have so much more in store!
So far so good. She had made it down to the kitchen unnoticed and found it empty. Opting for a sandwich as easy to take with her should the need arise, Hermione set about gathering ingredients to stuff between two slices of dark bread. She was so wound up and concentrated as she sliced a tomato that she nearly jumped out of her skin when Harry's voice sounded behind her.
"Hermione?" She shrieked before she could suppress that response and turned to look at her best friend, all the tension from earlier melting away with her startled laughter. The messy-haired boy gave her an uncertain smile and she could see that same concern in his eyes. It was not exactly pity and she reminded herself that he, too, had faced Voldemort on multiple occasions. "Are you alright?" he said. The worry was genuine and she suddenly felt tears spring to her eyes at that realization.
"Oh, Harry," she murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight into his embrace. The sobs seemed to come out of nowhere. She had not realized just how much emotion was really pent up inside of her until now. All of the fear, guilt, embarrassment, pain, and hatred that she had felt came back to the surface all at once and all she could do was let him hold her while she cried. He waited patiently for her tears to subside before trying to speak to her again.
"We've all been really worried about you, Hermione," he said softly. She felt unaccountably guilty for thinking that his concern had only been out of boredom. Of course, they were concerned. They cared about her.
They loved her.
"I know, Harry. I'm sorry. It's just been really hard." He hesitated and she knew he was torn about whether or not he should ask her any more.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione took in a deep, fortifying breath and reached for her sandwich.
"I suppose I'd better. But let's go ahead and get Ron and Ginny so I don't have to explain it all twice." Harry smiled and took her hand, leading her from the basement kitchen all the way to the bedroom she shared with Ginny. Ron and his sister were already there. They stopped talking the moment Hermione entered the room. Both seemed wary, as if they were afraid they might frighten her off again.
"Hello," Hermione said awkwardly. They both visibly relaxed and Ginny leapt up.
"Oh, Hermione! You really scared us, you know!" she said as she wrapped her arms around the other girl. Ron came to join them, embracing both girls with his rather longer arms.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione gasped around her sobs which had returned, though weaker this time. It touched her to feel so loved. A fleeting thought made her wonder how Snape ever recovered from the trauma he was constantly subjected to without friends like hers.
Harry had joined in the group hug and Ron started swaying them back and forth. Giggles started to erupt within the jumble of friends and soon they were all laughing heartily. By the time they broke up and sat down, Hermione was in tears from her laughter.
Hours later, after explaining what she could to her friends—she left out the part about being enslaved to their Potions Master—the cheery mood was beginning to wear Hermione down. It had certainly been good to talk to her friends, but she didn't quite feel like she could rejoin them. She needed time away from all of that for the time being. She needed time to heal.
Hermione showered and dressed in her pajamas before gathering her books and slipping off towards the potions lab. She just couldn't sleep in that room with Ginny tonight, and she wasn't above begging. Knocking on the door, there was no response, so she let herself in. The dark eyes of Severus Snape challenged her boldness as she stepped through the door.
"Can I please sleep here, Professor? You wouldn't have to leave. You can stay as long as you want. And I'll be really quiet. I just… don't want to be around all that… cheerfulness… right now." Snape considered her with an unreadable expression before quirking a lip in a resigned sneer.
"If that is what it will take to make you leave me alone, then by all means…" he gestured for her to take the bed, and she happily obliged him. It was clear that he didn't know how to simply be nice to her, but she knew that his scorn was pretty half-hearted under the circumstances.
"Thank you, sir." She hopped up onto the bed, made herself comfortable, and opened the first spell writing book that she had found before speaking again. "Sir?"
"Granger, don't make me regret this," he said evenly without looking up from his work.
"Sorry, Professor. Last thing, I swear. I just wanted to say… thank you… for saving me." He looked over at her, then, almost suspiciously, as if he had never been thanked like that before. Then, his eyes darted down to the book on her lap. His brow furrowed.
"Experimenting with spell invention, Granger? Merlin help whoever is in this house when you make your first attempt." She wrinkled her nose playfully at him.
"I will have to read a lot more about spell creation before I even begin to attempt experimenting." He sneered at her.
"Of course you will." She knew he was mocking her, but couldn't see a basis for the sarcasm. She brought her eyes back to the text in front of her, but found that she couldn't focus on the words. Her attention was still riveted on the man sharing the room with her, currently stirring a cauldron.
"What are you brewing, sir?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Granger…" he warned.
"Sorry, sir." She said quickly before he could kick her out.
"It's Lupin's Wolfsbane. A very intensive potion. It requires a lot of… concentration." His not-so-subtle hint was enough to squelch the other questions that started popping into her head.
He could feel her eyes on him and it was really fucking with his concentration. The Wolfsbane was indeed a difficult potion, and any tiny mistake could be fatal for Lupin. It was imperative that he block out the thought that she was watching him. And why would she be watching him? Was she thinking about the mark beneath her skin and the fact that one day soon she might have to sleep with him? Just the thought made his face grow warm. She was clearly such an innocent, and he was anything but.
Occasional glances in her direction brought to his attention the fact that Granger was, once again, only wearing a thin t-shirt and shorts. He had never made a habit out of noticing these things about his female students. And yet, these students had always been more than just students. And Granger was now connected to him in a completely different way. Was it very wrong for him to consider those round, little breasts, and the fact that he would be forced to touch them? Was it terrible that he wasn't exactly not looking forward to that? Merlin, I really am a sodding desperate bastard.
He felt so guilty for thinking these things, and yet, it had been her own fault. He was the one who had been forced into this situation because of her own stupid mistake. In fact, he realized, no one had actually bothered to ask the girl yet exactly why she had strayed off the path. It wasn't hard to guess, since she had gone missing in Flourish and Blotts, but he still felt compelled to ask.
"Granger?" the girl jumped to attention, startling out of her reverie. "What were you doing when you were captured?" He saw her guilty eyes dart down to the covers and watched a steady blush blossom on her cheeks, spreading down her neck to disappear beneath the collar of her shirt. Idly, he found himself wondering if that pink would tinge her little breasts. "Granger?" he repeated, more forcefully. Then, he was hit with sudden inspiration. "Shall we use it as practice?" Her eyes grew wide and locked onto his. Big mistake.
He entered her mind without even raising his wand or whispering a command. It was obvious that she did not immediately recognize his presence, as he caught bits of her thoughts about him. Merlin, why is he staring at me like that? Is he going to do it? What will I make him think? His own voice answered The truth. Startled, her mind immediately jumped to the scene in Flourish and Blotts and he caught hold of it. Voldemort was much rougher, he heard her think as the scene began to replay. He was a bit disappointed that she hadn't gotten a glimpse of her attacker. When he withdrew from her mind, a sneer was already plastered on his face.
"A book, Granger? You risked everything, despite Molly's extensive warnings, you were captured, you were tortured, and now we're in this impossible situation, all for a book?" He was being intentionally mean, he realized. After all, he had already guessed that this was the case long before having it confirmed by her memories. Her chin came up in defiance.
"I will not apologize for my intellectual pursuits," she said arrogantly. He placed the cauldron on a dresser in the corner of the room and leaned against it, crossing his arms and facing her with a malicious sneer.
"Let us all hope that your intellectual pursuits do not damage our chances at victory any more than they already have." The girl blanched at that, and he felt a teensy weensy twinge of remorse. It occurred to him, once again, that neither he nor the Headmaster had bothered to tell the girl about the prophecy. He had not been given orders about it, but it was likely that Albus merely knew he would not tell her. It almost seemed unfair. And yet, he wondered if she might take it the wrong way, and either be offended or overwhelmed. After all, if the prophecy was to be believed—and his experience told him to believe it—she would play a vital part in the upcoming war.
They had always known that the Brains of the Golden Trio would be important in Potter's fight against the dark lord. And yet, the prophecy made it seem like she might play an even more important role than they had imagined. The key to his demise. Severus suddenly realized that he had been staring at the girl and that she appeared to be very uncomfortable. He was just about to leave when she finally spoke.
"Professor?" He froze. He knew that tone. That was the tone of a Gryffindor who had something she desperately didn't want to say, but was going to bravely say it anyway. "I know we're going to have a lot of… challenges… ahead of us, but I think it would all be a lot easier if we came to some sort of truce…" His features hardened at that. No. She had affected him too much already. The very fabric of his existence would be ripped out from under him if he was forced to be nice to her, too.
"I told you, Granger. I will not treat you differently. As far as I am concerned, I am still your professor, and you are still my student. You must face the consequences of your own actions, Miss Granger. No one was there to help me. You already have enough people on your side." With that, he swept from the room. Hermione stared after him, her mouth agape in shock. It was official: Severus Snape would always, always be a bastard.
And tonight, there was no Dreamless Sleep.
Cold stone chilled her bare flesh as the red eyes of a hundred men stared down at her. Somewhere, someone was laughing maniacally and pain was tearing through her body, causing her to jerk about on the hard floor. To her horror, each bout of Cruciatus forced another secret from her lips, and she knew that Voldemort was pleased. Wherever he was. And then, she realized, he was not in the room because he was inside her mind, ripping through memories of Professor Snape.
Suddenly, the two were standing over her, talking about her as if she were a tile in the marble floor. "You have been lying to me about the girl, Severussss," the snake-man said. Snape's features stretched in a horrible leer.
"No, My Lord. I have lied to the girl, not to you. Never to you."
"Prove it!" Suddenly, her professor was on top of her, and the crowds were cheering him on. His face twisted in hatred until he became the dark lord, himself. Hermione screamed, desperate to get away from him, but he commanded her to stop and she obeyed.
Actually screaming, Hermione bolted up in the bed, taking in her surroundings. A dream, just a dream. A nightmare! She collapsed against the pillows, panting painfully. It had all seemed so real and believable that now, she couldn't imagine Professor Snape as a benevolent character in this scenario. What if he truly was a spy? What if he really did force her to tell her secrets to the dark lord? What if he really forced her to… do other things?
She belatedly realized that she was crying as her hands came up to rub the sleep from her eyes. It was still the middle of the night, but she knew she would not be able to sleep now. Not without a potion. And she certainly wasn't about to ask him for one. In fact, Hermione didn't know how she would be able to speak to him for a while after this. She was well and truly shaken and completely unsure of her belief in her professor, for the first time in her life. Hermione turned onto her side, hugging Crookshanks tight to her.
It took a moment to process that the book on the table beside her was not one of the ones she had been reading. In fact, she had not had a book on that table when she had gone to sleep. She had no doubt who had placed the book there for her and was momentarily confused about how she should feel. Part of her was really creeped out by the fact that he had come in here while she had been sleeping and that she had had no idea. But she also thought that it was touching that he had brought her a book. Of course, the title of the book might make a difference in her feelings toward his bold action. Lifting the heavy tome so that she could see the title, Hermione gasped. There, glinting in the pale light filtering in through the shabby curtains of her room, she could see the gold letters on the worn cover of the book: The Theory of Incantation 8thEdition. It was funny. With the book tilted up as it was and her head still on the pillow, the golden "8" was turned on its side once more.
Thoughts? Comments? It's really unnerving not knowing how you guys are taking the turns in the plot.
