Mudblood

Hermione yanked Severus out of the Pensieve abruptly and forced another vial into his hand as she nervously bounced from one foot to the other. He raised a brow at her, nodded, and turned back to the basin where he could still see fragments of the previous collection floating through. Gingerly, he poured its contents and was sucked into her memory once more.

He was caught off guard when his ears were overcome with screaming—Hermione screaming—and with sobs and frantic begging that echoed through the cellar. When Severus turned to her, he froze as he saw blood cascading down her thighs and legs. She fell to her knees and doubled over in pain and her sobbing grew louder and more difficult to listen to. Snape did not move, he could not move. He was frozen in place as he watched the horrifying memory unfold before him and he thought he would vomit right there. Very few things unnerved him, but this nearly broke his heart. His guilt poked at him from the abyss and he suddenly felt very self-conscious, like he was a fly invading her deepest, darkest secrets.

He wanted to pull out again, to curse her and to leave the estate, but he just wouldn't move. He could hear music coming from the floor above, something eastern European and folk.

"Please, help! My baby! My baby…" Severus thought her pleads fell on deaf ears until a figure crept out from the darkness of the other side of the cellar with a bottle of wine in his hands. It was one of the men from before though Snape noticed he had scratches all over his face, clearly from Hermione, and he leaned lazily against a foundation pillar, popping open the bottle and taking a swig. Hermione's hateful glare bore into him even though she writhed in pain and was deathly pale. She was weak.

"Are you hungry? Starvation and torture can really work up an appetite," he said. He tilted his head at her and gave her a mocking frown. Snape felt his own rage boiling as he watched the exchange between guard and prisoner. The man came closer and crouched beside her, not at all phased by her tears, and pushed her hair back. Snape could now better see the condition in which Hermione was left in; he was sure her nose was broken, and her eye was almost swollen shut. When she spoke, he could see blood rimming her teeth.

"I'll do anything."

The man grinned.

"Anything? Well, despite how tempting that is, there is use for you, though what use, I don't know. And I can't touch you…just…yet," he said, running a rough hand slowly over her bottom lip, his eyes almost lost in whatever sick fantasy he was spinning. She then bit down on his finger hard, drawing an agonizing yell from the man. His bottle of wine shattered on the ground and with a growl he descended on Hermione and pinned her to the ground, his blade at her throat. "Stupid cunt!"

It all happened in slow motion as he brought his blade below her and jammed it into her lower side, causing Hermione to release a blood curdling cry that whimpered out; her mouth was still agape, and Snape could see life slowly leaving her eyes as wine and blood mixed and pooled around her.

There was a sudden explosion from above that shook the house, causing dust to fall on them, and battle cries could be heard. The man swore under his breath and without looking at Hermione again, ran upstairs.

Severus watched her closely as his fingers absently rubbed over his chin. He could tell she was dying; she was faced his way as she faded in and out of consciousness, her arms splayed out. He watched her eyes dance over the cursed words on her forearm: Mudblood. By the scarring, Severus knew she did not fall victim to it in her eleven days in captivity here. He was pulled from his own thoughts when she released an exasperated huff of air as she struggled to reach something close to his feet. Looking down, he saw an all too familiar blade, and his heart nearly jumped out his throat.

Bellatrix's dagger.

"Fucking...D-Death Eaters," she cried as her fingers barely skimmed the handle of the dagger.

The door to the cellar burst open once more and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Snape felt anxiety build up in his chest and then felt awkward relief as Potter and the Weasley boy shuffled down the stairs with two other Aurors flanking them. He watched as Ron's face fell and contorted through so many emotions as he vanished her shackles and scooped Hermione's weakened form in his arms. She must have been fading, because Severus could not clearly make out what Potter and Weasley were saying, but it was heated. Harry shouted at Ron as he carried Hermione up the stairs and Severus' conscience followed along as audience. The house was never one he had ever been in, from what he saw; Snape could not see much more down the hallway for the memory cut them off into a shroud of darkness, except the corridor Ron slowly made his way down, a little revealing with every step.

Hermione was coming forth, and Snape could now hear his surrounding, and he could hear Ron muttering confirmations and support to his pregnant lover. He was in tears, but Snape could tell by his demeanor that the boy was in full rage, possibly only reined as to not scare the damaged woman in his arms. Snape knew that feeling.

She stirred then groaned.

"R-Ron… the baby—"

"Shh, it'll be okay, Hermione. I've got you."

"My wand, the crib…"

"Hermio—"

"Ron, please let me down," she said as she shifted in his arms. She was far more alert than expected, and Snape figured it would have been her final surge. Ron grunted and lead them into a small room with peeling wall paper, and Snape could see a collection of random belongings there: school robes, wands—some broken—bags and money. Ron laid Hermione on a nearby chair and she slumped into it with a small cry. He took his flannel off and pressed it against her abdomen, causing her to yelp. Gently, he held her face, rubbing softly across her bruised cheek, and she began crying once more, inconsolably so. The red head kissed Hermione's forward affectionately, and Snape once again felt the pang of invasion.

There was a creak from behind where Snape was observing. When he spun around he was met with the end of a wand and one of the cellar guardsmen glaring through him. Before he could even blink, the man shot a silent spell that pierced through Snape and hit Ron Weasley square in the back. His shirt was charred and ripped open as deep, blistering holes burrowed the entirety of his back. Snape heard Hermione yell as Ron slumped over on her, convulsing. The man grew closer, not speaking, and raised his wand again but the blinding green light of the Killing Curse lit up behind him, and the guardsman fell to the floor, dead.

Hermione slid off the chair and frantically pushed dead peoples' belongings off the tables, and Snape heard the irritating voice of the American shouting behind him.

"Harry! In here!" He tried to gather Hermione, but she slapped him away before reaching for her beaded bag she saw sticking out from under a robe. She fell beside Ron's shaking body and shoved her arm elbow deep into the bag. Snape could hear the light jingle of glass and thuds of books and he was mildly impressed by the Undetectable Extension Charm. He didn't notice Potter enter the room until he walked right through him like a ghost and staggered.

"Bloody—Yew! We need a healer here right now!"

The American left, and Harry began talking to Ron in attempts to keep him conscious. Ron began choking on his own blood and Harry tried to help with the little healing spells he did know.

"Where is it, where is it?" Hermione cried. She was desperate. She sniffled in frustration at every passing moment, and she then snatched Harry's wand and flourished it into the bag. "Accio!"

Hermione caught the vial, her arm still submerged in the bag, and stared down into it. Her shoulders slumped, and she threw the bag across the room; she held Ron to her chest as his final breath was drawn, and he stilled, eternally. She was staring straight at Severus' form, and he felt a chill down his spine when he saw the vacant, catatonic defeat in her eyes.

Severus was ejected from the Pensieve as the memory finished, his breathing uneven and heavy, and turned to Hermione. She was looking at him like she just saw him for the first time, reading his face, and her lips parted in wonder. Severus was bothered—anyone would be—and he figured she was surprised to see anything resembling sympathy on his face.

"Miss Granger—"

"Hermione," she interrupted in a soft voice. "I think by now, you can call me Hermione."

He paused, composing himself.

"They found a dead body on the grounds of where I was held. It was a Muggle man—the face of the two cellar guards you saw. Apparently, everyone in that house was taking Polyjuice, so when the Aurors came through, they were fighting copycats. Everyone got away that night, except the guardsman Benjamin killed. When the potion wore off I knew who it was right away."

"Rodolphus Lestrange," said Snape. "I recognized his wand when he…attacked Mr. Weasley."

Hermione recoiled. Snape studied her for a moment, replaying the horrid memory she offered him. Although she was close to thirty, she was still young—too young to have experienced what she did, to have experienced everything since her school years. She was unpredictable now, and a little mad, if he were to admit, but he knew, deep down, her psychological reaction to it all was expected. He reflected on how he has carried himself through life, just as deflected and detached as she, from his own hardships. Severus Snape knew very well his ways were unhealthy; he knew he did all he's ever done to preserve himself and his pride, but mostly to protect his heart. How could he possibly berate this girl for doing the same?

"The girls in the cellar," he began slowly. "They had an uncanny resemblance to you. Did the other captured women look the same?"

Hermione offered him a cruel smile, shaking her head in disbelief at the thought. "Yes, they did. They stopped taking Muggleborns after me—after they killed the two who were in the cellar with me. The Auror Department deemed it as some twisted revenge plot, nothing too elaborate. They figured there were newer underlings who were not familiar with me, snatching up Muggleborns who had any kind of resemblance." She paused for a moment. "For a long time, I felt like I got all those girls killed. A dozen of them, just for being who I am."

"I know guilt all too well, Miss Granger, but there is no rationalization when it comes to vengeful sociopaths," he said rather firmly. "Although I will deny saying this if you ever bring it up…no matter how insufferable and incorrigible the three of you have always been, you saved many lives. That does not come without sacrifice and there are always casualties in war."

"I know," she said, her voice cracking. Severus hoped she wouldn't begin crying. He was not sure if he could take it. His comfort can only go so far.

He sighed. "Come. I believe there is some liquor still left in your cabinets. This has been a trying night, and no doubt, we both need to take the edge off. "