IX - Cruciatu

Cruciatu - Torture

"Ms. Granger, I wonder, do you find it enjoyable to agitate me? To keep me waiting?" Snape bit out as soon as Hermione entered the room and she cocked an eyebrow at him but said nothing in response. Crookshanks trailed behind her, his head butting into the back of her ankle affectionately.

She'd just experienced a rather violent spell, they seemed to be getting worse the longer she suffered them. If she was being realistic she could say that she hadn't answered because her voice was near gone from the pained screams the muscles spasms and seizing had ripped from her throat. Instead she would allow him to chalk it up to her usual insolence and move on with their day.

"I require a verbal acknowledgement, Ms. Granger," He growled out, his honeyed voice taking on a much darker, agitated tone. Hermione shrugged her shoulders again and shook her head. "Unless you would prefer I reconsider this entire arrangement you will speak." He was all but snarling now and Hermione heaved a soft breath.

"I'm not certain what it is you want from me sir," Her voice rose and fell in pitch, cracking and breaking in several places. She winced at the pain it caused her throat.

His expression changed immediately from intense irritation to a sort of bland interest.

"Are you ill, Ms. Granger?" She swore she almost fainted when he reached out a hand and pressed the back of it to her forehead. Such a strange action from the Potions Master who would sooner cut off a limb than touch another person.

She ducked away nervously and shook her head, "It's the cold and damp," it was the best explanation she could come up with.

"I shall reinforce the charms on your room, in that case. In the meantime, I should retrieve a draught for the strain on your throat. Do not move," Hermione desperately wanted to take him literally and freeze in place but he was being unusually agreeable and she really had no desire to make him act cruelly again. Instead she settled into the chair he typically favored the least in his sitting room and waited, tapping her toe until he returned.

"Drink," a vial was thrust in front of her face and she quickly tipped her head back and swallowed. It tasted terrible, like black liquorice and heavy fresh mint leaves. She grimaced after the last of it had left her tongue and then exhaled a sigh at the soothing effect on her throat.

"Thank you, sir."

"That is unnecessary. I assure you my benefit is greater than yours. We must speak about several topics that have come up since your discovery in the Forbidden Forest," Hermione nodded and settled back in her seat as he took his preferred chair. One long leg crossed over the other and he steepled his fingers as he stared at her with empty onyx eyes.
"First, it is necessary we speak of the expectations the Headmaster has decided he has for you, as well as those of the Dark Lord."

Hermione cleared her throat and gave a hesitant nod. She knew only of this 'Dark Lord' what Draco had told her. He'd all but begged her not to become involved with the 'madman' and of course she'd agreed. The boy had after all become her fast, and only, friend. She wasn't certain why they hadn't gotten along in the past, perhaps because of his prejudices- but now he was a person incredibly dear to her.

"Professor Dumbledore would like for me to train you in Occlumency, as well as Legilimency. He desires to make you a second spy for the Order of the Phoenix, do you recall who that is?"

Hermione nodded softly, "The group who has been fighting against your Dark Lord since the first wizarding war. I'm not certain who makes up the group any longer but I know that they are the front line against the despot. I'm curious sir, you are a double agent for the Order, but how could I possibly serve any use on the other side as a muggle-born?"

"I am pleased that your loss of memory has not stunted your intellect, Ms. Granger. It is the fact that you were a very close friend of Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the one who it is prophesized will end this once in for all that makes you valuable to the Dark Lord. He wishes to make use of you against your former friend. If I am correct in my observations I am to believe he will offer you immunity from muggle-born laws and persecution should you take his mark," the dark wizard finishes succinctly and Hermione took a deep breath.

"Dumbledore believes this is the way I will be most effective for the side of the light in this war?" Snape nodded but did not speak and she glanced down at her hands for a long moment.

She may have been invested in this war at one point, and she supposed she should still be but her role had changed dramatically. She didn't really care about Harry Potter, she didn't particularly care about much of it. The thought equally saddened her and left her unaffected.

"And you sir, do you think this is the best place for me?" He masked the surprise that flitted through his eyes quickly but still she knew what she saw.

"My opinion on the matter does not hold any sway."

"Perhaps not to Dumbledore, or your Dark Lord, but, and pardon my frankness Sir, your opinion on the matter is second only to Draco's for me," she wasn't looking at him. She could have gone the rest of her life without revealing to him the value of his opinion to her.

For a time only their steady breathing could be heard in the room before she heard the rustle of his clothing as he shifted. Her eyes drifted up to his face to find he was staring at her intently, the way he stared at the potions in his private lab the few times she'd managed to interrupt him.

"My opinion, Ms. Granger, is that you should be kept safe in the castle. I know however that your nature dictates you should make yourself of some use. In such a case that you decide to follow this track and join me in my spy work," here he paused, eyes of deep obsidian boring into her. "I assure you that I will do everything in my power to prevent any more harm from befalling you."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully and worried her bottom lip as countless thoughts flitted through her head.

"Draco has expressed his wish for me to stay as far from him as possible."

"Yes, you two seem to have developed quite the relationship," his tone sounded almost bitter, almost, and Hermione's eyes shot up to his face.

"We are friends," Crookshanks leapt into her lap and she took a moment to stroke the length of his back.

"I am certain my Godson regards no female as simply, a friend," he cocked an eyebrow at her and she furrowed her own.

"I think, Sir, that friend is the only way your Godson regards any woman," she fought back her snort of laughter at the slight furrow of his brow. Surely that was as close to looking perplexed as the man ever came and she enjoyed the glimpse of expression on his face.

"You are hardly a woman, Ms. Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips, "I'm hardly a child, Professor."

"You are a sixteen year old girl, certainly you are still a child," he bit back, Hermione tipped her head at him.

"Sir, I'm not certain who gave you that information but I am eighteen years old, I was nearly a year older than my peers before my use of the time turner."

His lips pressed into a thin line, "Time turner, Ms. Granger?"

"Oh yes, I was allowed use of the time turner to take more classes for two years of my education. I am nearly nineteen years old now, by my count."

"Merlin," he grunted and his gaze turned to the fire, eyes lost in the flames for a long moment.

She could feel the stirring of another episode and sighed to herself. It was slow torture, completely and utterly miserable to suffer the fits of her body so frequently- and so severely.

"If you'll excuse me now Sir, I think I need to lie down," she stood and his eyes found her face for a moment before he gave a barely noticeable nod.

"Of course, your training begins tomorrow, if you so choose to join the ranks of turncoat," his gaze moved back to the fire and Hermione exhaled, her leg muscles were beginning to spasm.
She needed to get to her room, now.

"I will have my answer in the morning," she managed just before the door closed behind her and her body buckled to the floor. Crookshanks gave a cry of distress as she barely missed landing on him and she would have apologized. Honestly, she would have.

If her body hadn't been in the throes of absolute and utter agony.

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