I want to apologize for keeping some of you waiting so long for this update. As an avid reader myself, I understand how frustrating it is to wait for another installment from a story you enjoy, and I do very much appreciate the fact that some of you are truly enjoying this. Thank you for sticking with me; I hope you like this chapter.

Hermione awoke to the sounds of Snape rising and turning on the light, as usual. She kept her head under the blankets and made no move to get up. Memories from the previous night were so fresh in her mind it was as though she hadn't slept at all. A wave of nausea coursed through her empty stomach as she replayed her and Snape's last dialogue. The same tumultuous emotions remained but in the cold light of day they were tempered with fear and an ingrained sense of decorum. Where had she found the nerve to say such things? When had she felt the desire to do them? What is it about the night that changes people so? She fervently wished she could crawl into a dark hole and die.

Certain that the professor was utterly disgusted by her, Hermione imagined she could feel an icy chill radiating from him. Hot tears slid down her cheeks but she would not allow herself to make a sound. She was humiliated enough as it was. The clunking of bowls and cups being placed upon the table let her know that Snape had gone ahead and taken out their breakfast. She sniffled, thinking that was supposed to be her job.

"Well, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, his tone its accustomed even drawl. She lowered the blankets enough so that she could see him. He was sitting at his usual seat before the table, his expression and posture as calm and collected as ever. "Aren't you hungry?"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously for a moment before slowly pulling off her sheets and getting out of bed. He was ignoring her-again, as usual-crunching absently at a piece of jellied toast while he read from one of his texts. She inched over to her place at the table, never taking her eyes off of him. He had been so furious with her the previous night; she couldn't imagine he had simply forgotten what had happened or would be content to just let it lie.

Still watching him, she tentatively began to eat and drink. Before she knew it she had finished her meal and he'd paid her no attention. She had to know if he was still angry with her or the uncertainty would drive her insane. She had nothing else to focus upon.

"Professor?" she queried in a small voice. He met her gaze serenely, his black eyes penetrating her while at the same time giving nothing of himself away. His eyebrows rose in indication for her to continue.

"Are you... upset with me?" She was practically shaking now.

"Why should I be?" His unruffled tone and posture did not indicate that he meant anything other than what he said. Then he sneered, looking down at the crumbs on and around her plate. "Miss Granger, I assumed you possessed better table manners at your age. Be sure to wipe up the mess you've made after you put the dishes away."

And with that, he swept out of his seat and strode over to the wing chair, where he normally settled to read until lunch. Hermione was utterly mystified by his reaction-or lack thereof-to her loaded question. Perhaps he had truly put last night's indiscretion out of his mind. Well, that suited her just fine, and she would endeavor to do the same. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and got up to do as he'd told her.

Several hours later, Hermione lay bonelessly atop her bed, an open book resting on her stomach. She stared at the ceiling, its expansive whiteness the perfect backdrop for her thoughts to play out upon. Already ignoring the order she'd given herself not to do so, she indulged in fantasies of what could have happened last night if the professor hadn't rebuked her. In her mind's eye, he opened his arms to her and she saw herself being encircled in his voluminous black robes. She imagined staring into his stern face as he lowered his thin, white lips to hers. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She had only ever kissed two boys and hadn't gone much further than that with either of them. The knowledge that Professor Snape was an adult male who undoubtedly possessed a great deal more sexual experience than she served to inflame her desire for him further.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed and turned her head to look at him. He was still seated in the wing chair, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. He held open the text he was reading with one hand while the other rested on the armrest. A curtain of black hair obscured the majority of his face from Hermione's view; all she could see of it was the great beak of his nose, his sharp chin and tightly pressed mouth. Her heart flipped over in her chest.

Now that she'd had a few hours to consider it, the idea of sweeping last night's incident under the proverbial rug was increasingly unfavorable. She recalled what she'd said to him about them being alone here and that no one else need ever know what happened between them. It still seemed so clear, so simple.

"Miss Granger," Snape intoned unexpectedly, causing her to start and scramble into an upright position. "Forgive me for disturbing your leisure time but I believe lunch should be ready by now. Please go and set it out. And I would like you to eat your entire portion today. You've become disturbingly underweight."

Hermione frowned at him, then looked down at herself. She had all of her life maintained her body at a normal, healthy weight. The only mirror in their cell was the one over the sink in the bathroom and she rarely paid it enough attention to have noticed any changes in her appearance. She ran her hands down her ribcage and clasped them about her slim waistline. Perhaps she did feel somewhat thinner; she began to prod at the various bones that now jutted slightly from beneath her skin.

"Maybe I've only lost a bit of muscle mass. I suppose it's due to lack of proper exercise-"

"Just do as I say and eat every bit of your food. Dwelling on the why's and wherefore's won't solve the problem."

Hermione scoffed openly at him, ignoring the warning glare he fixed upon her.

"Well, isn't that quite convenient? Just look past the reasons and deal neatly with the problem at hand and everything will just sort itself-"

"Miss Granger," he growled between tightly clenched teeth. "I know what you are driving at and, in no matter how circumspect a manner, I will not have this discussion with you."

"Professor-"

"I will not have it!" he roared, the text falling to the floor as he leapt up from his seat. It looked as though fire was about to issue from his nostrils. Hermione dropped her head, effectively cowed into submission.

"I-I'm sorry, Professor," she whispered and moved quickly to the cupboard. As always, Snape had been correct and two small salads, two sandwich halves and two mugs of steaming hot tea were waiting for them inside of it. With shaking hands, Hermione set out the meal one item at a time in order to prolong what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable lunch in such close proximity to Snape.

Hermione stared blindly in the direction of Snape's bed, her ears straining to pick up the smallest sounds of him settling upon the sheets and shifting his position. Even though it was black as pitch, she sensed that he was turned away from her.

It was "night" for them again, although she suspected that he'd turned out the lights earlier than usual. She imagined that the tension between them was more taxing for him than he let show. Just because they were sequestered away from the rest of the world together did not mean that his sense of right and wrong would diminish. Even if he possessed no scruples regarding their age difference and her technical status as his student, he may not have responded to her advances simply because he did not fancy her. She was intelligent enough to know that this entire line of thought was absolutely ludicrous and borderline barmy but she wasn't able to place that concern over her obsession with Snape.

As if of their own accord, her hands began to run over the slight curves of her body in a slow and soothing manner. She continued to stare in Snape's direction, imagining he was watching her and her breath quickened. She slipped one hand beneath her underpants and pressed the other over her mouth in order to stifle any sound she might make. She had never done this regularly or even frequently and she almost couldn't believe her own audacity tonight. Her excitement was heightened by the thought of Professor Snape in the next bed, so close to her, so close...

After ten more minutes of increasingly unsatisfying friction, she sighed and ceased her ministrations. Her own hand was just a poor substitute for what she craved. Wanting for all the world to cry out her frustration, she instead rolled over and pulled the bed sheets over her head.

The following morning was possibly the most uncomfortably awkward the two of them had ever spent together, and that was saying something. She knew that he knew what she'd done the night previous. To someone who hadn't spent every living moment with the man for the past couple of months, his behavior wouldn't seem out of the ordinary but she could sense his discomfiture. His posture was infinitesimally more rigid and he seemed to be making a conscious effort to avoid her eyes as opposed to simply not caring to look at her.

He didn't even ask her to retrieve breakfast, so eventually she took the initiative and did so herself. It was an attractive array of bagels and fruit but she had no appetite and the professor did not even get up from his reading to sit at the table. This was probably because he was disgusted with her, she thought, a lump growing in her throat. Not wanting to waste a good meal, she wrapped up the two multigrain bagels in a cloth napkin and poured one cup of fruit into the other.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked. She jumped, not realizing he had been watching her.

"I'm saving this for later," she replied meekly, turning towards him but unable to look him in the face. "It'd be a shame to waste it."

"And where will you keep it? We've no proper way to store food here."

"I'll keep it on the table. I'll probably want to eat it soon, I'm just not hungry now."

"If you eat it later, you won't be able to eat your lunch, and then that will be wasted as well. If you don't eat it at all, it will begin to rot and we'll have no way to rid ourselves of the smell."

"I... I was..." Hermione stammered. She wasn't prepared for an interrogation over such a simple issue. He had an answer for everything and she was becoming frustrated. "Why do you have to argue about this?"

He fixed her with a dry expression, seemingly designed to make her feel small and insignificant. It was quite effective but she forced herself to keep eye contact with him.

"Why can't you control yourself?" he asked in a pointed tone. Her eyes widened and she felt chilled as the blood drained from her face. She couldn't believe he would humiliate her by alluding to what she'd done last night. There was no question now that he knew.

"Why do you have to be such a bastard?!" she yelled and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Once inside she sat down hard atop the toilet seat, pulled her knees up and buried her head in her arms. Despite her intense humiliation and anger, she refused to cry. She counted her haggard breaths in an effort to calm herself.

Although she was upset with him, she still wished that he would come after her to apologize but she wasn't so deluded as to believe that he would. And he didn't. He went nowhere near the bathroom during the couple of hours or so she remained in there, sitting motionless and staring straight ahead of her, doing her best not to think of anything.

Finally her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything all day. She decided to brave Snape's presence, hoping he wouldn't comment on her admittedly childish disappearing act. Rising to her full height and forcing an unperturbed expression, she exited the bathroom with her head high. To her relief, the professor had remained in his chair and did not even look up from his reading. Ignoring him as well after a cursory glance his way, Hermione strode over to the table and sat down in her usual seat. Noticing that he had not put their breakfast in the cupboard she unwrapped the two bagels, placed the cup of fruit in front of her and began to eat.

"As I told you before, Miss Granger, if you eat that now, you won't want to eat your lunch when it comes," Snape intoned superciliously. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists, willing herself not to lose her temper. After a moment she turned to face him, knowing her eyes belied her fury.

"Professor, I don't care," she answered in a measured tone, then whipped her head away from him. A corner of her mouth quirked upwards victoriously as the ghost of a frustrated grunt issued from his direction. She could sense that he was itching to say more but knew that he'd feel foolish to be the one to continue the discussion.

An hour spent reading-Hermione seated on her bed, Snape in the wing chair-in complete silence passed them by when Snape took it upon himself to check the cupboard for lunch. This rankled Hermione as, again, that was supposed to be her job. It was a silly thing to hold on to but it was one of the few responsibilities she had and she used it to break up the monotony of their daily lives in this prison.

This time, Snape brought out both meals and dumped hers unceremoniously at her place. He sat down but did not eat, instead waiting expectantly, she knew, for her to join him at the table. Hermione sighed aloud; she could sense where this was going. Determined to ignore him, she rose her book higher so that it covered her face from his view.

"Miss Granger, come over here and eat your lunch," he ordered her, his voice soft and low. It was a dangerous tone he had tended to use in class to compel a student to obey him through fear. While Hermione was feeling its skin-prickling and blood-draining effects, she stoically remained where she was, keeping her eyes locked on her book although she could not see the prose.

"I'm not hungry," she answered petulantly, hoping he hadn't detected the slight quaver in her voice. He dropped a piece of silverware loudly on the table and she started but forced herself to keep her eyes on her book.

"I told you-"

"And I told you that I'm not hungry," she interrupted his growled warning, at last meeting his gaze. His face was pinched tightly and whiter than usual, his black eyes glinting stonily. Hermione had never shown such disrespect towards an authority figure in her entire life; she felt nauseated by surges of guilt and elation that she'd never before experienced simultaneously.

For his part, Professor Snape looked as though he were about to spontaneously combust with rage. His left eyelid was twitching. She'd only seen that happen when a peer blew up a cauldron in class. She, normally one of his more obedient students, had not only disobeyed him but had interrupted him and addressed him in a discourteous manner. His lips quirked as though he were about to say something but he pressed them firmly shut. He looked down at his plate for a second-during which she almost allowed herself to sigh with relief at this possible reprieve-and then shot up from his seat and strode over to her with purposeful speed. She lost all composure and made to scramble off of her bed and away from him but he was too quick. His hand closed around the scruff of her blouse and he used it to drag her behind him back to the table. She continued to struggle but he was infinitely stronger than she and somehow managed to enclose both of her flailing arms in one of his hands as he pushed her down hard into her seat.

After several failed attempts to free herself from his iron grasp, Hermione resigned herself to her fate and released the tension from her limbs. Eyes wide with abject horror, she looked up into the face of her professor which, to her surprise, was completely composed, if not a little smug. He moved his face closer to hers so slowly that she hadn't registered the motion until they were inches apart.

"Now," he commanded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Eat. Your. Lunch. Miss Granger."

Hermione glared daggers into his eyes but when he let go of her wrists, she picked up her fork and began to eat with great deliberation. His eyes never left her as he gradually loosened his grip on her shirt and inched backwards to his own place across from her. There was a split second when he had fully seated himself that she considered making an escape to the bathroom but the sharp warning in his eyes let her know that he was well aware of her plan and was fully prepared to thwart it.

Hermione's emotions were reduced to an almost primal fury that was guarded only by fear of her captor. She was unable to form any clear thoughts and she was devoid of the desire to do so. She methodically finished the rest of her meal without tasting a single bite of it.