A/N: Because I can't say it enough: thank you to my beta, anogete, for all of her help with whipping my stories into shape. Thank you also to my readers for your support. If you see something you like or don't like, please feel free to leave me a review and tell me about it!

Obligatory: None of these things belong to me; they all belong to JKR. I just like to have a bit of fun with them, and no profit is desired.

--

Despite the overall despair inherent in Hermione's situation, she found that her strange life was more tolerable than not. After she had convinced Severus that she could make simple potions to even his standards, he allowed her to work on more complex things.

Late in January, when they were working in their companionable silence in the lab, Severus walked over to her table and set a jar of a familiar ingredient in front of her.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Wolfsbane, sir?"

He let forth a small and rare chuckle. "I am sure that an aspiring Potions mistress such as yourself knows what to do with this."

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged, fingering the lid of the jar. "I'll get on it as soon as I'm finished with this batch of Sleeping Draught."

"Remember not to use the silver knife," he quipped, gliding back towards his own work.

"I know, sir." Hermione sighed. Even at the times that he was ostensibly complimenting her by giving her more difficult work, he still found a way to belittle her.

She regarded him at work for a moment. Now, as he often did, he was standing over a bubbling cauldron with his hand over his chest. She knew that he had been taking a number of pain relieving potions quite regularly, and he often seemed troubled. Something was taking its toll on him, and he looked ill, but he never mentioned what it was that was bothering him.

They rarely spoke with one another, save for when he gave her instructions or informed her that it was time to go to bed or The Cell. Every once in a while, they would have a short discussion about potions theories, but they often ended as quickly as they had been started. She found that, though his manner was abrupt and often insulting, the time spent with him was more comforting than she had expected. Hermione only fell into feeling anxious and afraid when she was in The Cell, and her stomach ached with the uncertainty of her fate.

--

"He's been making small batches of that Heart Attack Potion I was telling you about. The funny thing is, despite everything we've been stockpiling, no one ever comes to pick the stuff up. We just store it in a cupboard in his lab and leave it there." Hermione gave Draco's Army her usual report through Silent Speech when she was deposited in The Cell one afternoon in February. Severus rarely said where he was going, and Hermione never asked. Wherever it was, he often seemed agitated when he returned.

"Maybe they're just planning one big offensive rather than little skirmishes," Jeffrey offered. "It would certainly decrease their chances of getting caught before they make their major move."

"That sounds plausible. I take it Severus hasn't mentioned anything about it?" Draco asked.

"I honestly don't think he knows or cares. He just seems happy to be left alone to his craft." Hermione frowned. "He doesn't look like he's doing well."

"I would imagine he's not. No offense, but he probably doesn't like being stuck with you all the time, and he most certainly doesn't like being out of the loop. After all, he's doing all this work on these potions, and they aren't even going to any use." Draco looked over at Angelica, who was looking at the fresh bruises forming on his face from the strikes Lucius had delivered shortly after Severus returned Hermione to The Cell. "I'm fine, love. Don't worry about me."

"I know. I guess it just sickens me that your own father comes in here and treats you the way he does, and then lets his friends have a go. Can't I worry about my own General?" Angelica rubbed Draco's arm affectionately, as was her custom.

"The General is strong, Angelica; don't you worry about him!" Andrew quipped. Hermione smiled at Andrew. It was difficult in their situation to learn much about one another, but Andrew reminded her of Fred and George with the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Suddenly, the door appeared, and Severus walked in, motioning for Hermione to come with him. "I'll see you later," she said to the others' minds as she made to leave.

Hermione and Severus walked quietly back to his rooms, and she noticed that he was looking more pale than usual, the grimace of pain fixed on his severe features.

Once inside, Severus warded his door and turned to her. "Was Lucius in The Cell after I left?" His black eyes danced with an unreadable expression.

"Yes, sir." Hermione winced as she thought about how Lucius had laughed when he drew blood from Draco's nose with a swift smack across his face.

"Does he abuse Draco regularly?" Severus asked, beginning to pace in front of the fire.

"Yes, he does. I'm not always there to see it, but apparently Lucius, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix all take their enjoyment from him." Hermione's eyes accused him silently.

"Do not dare ever assume that I have any responsibility for his state. Not that I have to justify anything to you, but I have never laid a hand on Draco." He looked at her with his usual glare of annoyance. Behind that, however, was genuine concern for the situation in which his godson presently found himself.

"I know that, sir." Hermione looked down at her feet.

"Does Lucius…" Severus trailed off for a moment. "Does Lucius ever touch you?"

Hermione looked up with shock before answering. "No, he doesn't."

"If he ever does, you are to tell me immediately, do you understand? I do not take kindly to my property being manhandled." With that, Severus turned and retreated to the lab.

Hermione sighed. Any time they got close to having a real conversation, he would end it with some belittling or insulting comment. Hermione wasn't sure if he meant it or if he was just trying to maintain some distance from her.

With one last glance into the fire, Hermione followed him to continue her work.

--

One evening in late March, Severus and Hermione had a rare visitor: Lucius. From the way Severus was behaving, it was difficult to determine whether Lucius was welcome or not; then again, such behavior was Severus' custom.

"Shall I send the Mudblood back to The Cell, my friend?" Severus asked casually, as he saw Lucius eyeing Hermione with a hungry stare.

"No need, Severus, no need. I just came to see how things were going." Lucius sipped some brandy from a large snifter.

Severus glared at Hermione, and she took her cue to return to the lab and continue working on her latest assignment, a batch of Veritaserum. She could still hear their conversation from her workstation, though she could not see them.

"Certainly such things do not interest you," Severus answered shortly.

Lucius laughed. "Perhaps potions don't interest me per se, but anything that is to be used in the service of our cause is my business most certainly."

"Of course. So you are here to inspect my work?"

"Can't a good friend make a social call?" Lucius asked as though wounded. "I just wanted to see how the two of you are getting on."

Despite the distance between them, Hermione could still hear Severus' sharp intake of breath. "Fine," he spat out.

"She is enjoyable for you?" Lucius' voice was drenched with amusement.

"She has freed up time for me to engage in more enjoyable pursuits," Severus snapped.

Lucius chuckled again. "I had rather thought that she would be an enjoyable pursuit."

"Let us not start with that again, Lucius. I am entirely too busy to entangle myself in that way."

Hermione shuddered at the thought that her bedding Severus was regular conversation with the other Death Eaters, particularly since the closest she got to bedding him was lying in his bed while he avoided sleep. She knew that he would occasionally get into bed with her, but he never touched her, and she never woke up to see him asleep. He never made any advances toward her, nor did he even allow the most accidental of touches. It was as though he was afraid that there was some danger involved in being close to her.

She found, however, that she longed for some kind of contact with him to know that he was real, that he was human. She was drawn to him, she worried for his health, and she was fascinated by the precision with which he carried out his work. More and more every day, as she saw how he withdrew into his room and avoided the rest of the Death Eaters, worried about Draco, and generally seemed tortured, she thought about her own thoughts on his questionable allegiance, and the General's thoughts on the same. Maybe he really didn't know what side he was on, and the indecision was wearing him more and more thin every day.

--

"Your father seems to have an unhealthy interest in my sex life with Snape. Why is that?" Hermione finally asked Draco during one of their Silent Speech chats together in The Cell, most of which turned to Severus and what Draco knew about him.

"Lucius is interested in sex. That's just the way that he is," Draco replied wryly.

"But why pester him about it? Certainly, if Snape wanted to have sex with me, he would have forced the issue by now." Hermione worried at her stomach as she often did in The Cell.

"For Merlin's sake, Granger. You are a Potions apprentice and working with the best Potions master in Britain, and you can't come up with something to take for your stomach?" Draco's tone was irritated, but his expression was one of concern.

"I don't really notice it when I'm not here. Maybe I just don't like being locked up with the likes of you." She smirked.

"Cheeky. Though I will admit, being trapped here can make one sick of the stomach." He looked on at his ragged army, all sleeping soundly across the way from where he and Hermione sat.

"What will become of us, Draco?" Hermione followed Draco's gaze, meeting the peaceful form of Angelica.

"I don't think that we're going to make it out of here. We're here for a reason, and I think the final outcome of that reason will be our deaths." He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes.

"I keep waiting for someone from the Order to work out where I've been taken and come and rescue me. Harry and Ron must be going crazy wondering where I've gone, to say nothing of my poor parents. After all the work that was done to secure the castle, it must have come as quite a shock that I was kidnapped from right inside of it."

Draco stroked his chin in thought. "You forget that even I was able to get Death Eaters into the castle."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten," she quipped with a grin. "But certainly Headmistress McGonagall and the other professors worked all summer to make it impenetrable. I still can't work out how it happened that I was so easily fetched. Or why."

"Haven't you been paying attention? They wanted old Severus to get laid! Merlin knows he needs a little distraction in his life." Draco chuckled and punched Hermione lightly on the arm.

Hermione laughed along with him before becoming very serious again. "But he has left me alone. He's had every opportunity, and yet he hasn't taken advantage of me. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Whatever you may think of Severus, that isn't the kind of man that he is. He's never really had relationships with women, mostly because I think that he's afraid that even sex would bring him too close to being compromised by his feelings." Draco appeared saddened. "I think that some kind of human contact could have made all the difference in the world for him."

"Do you think that it's too late? Don't you think that there is a possibility that he may still choose the side of good?"

Draco studied the ceiling. "No. I don't think that it's too late. It wouldn't be an easy task, mind you. If anyone ever offered him the choice, he would still think they were doing it for their own ends. He would need to do it of his own will, without the constraints of someone else holding some bargaining chip over his head."

"I have to try, Draco. He's been my only company these many months, and I think that there is good in him. It won't be easily uncovered, but I have to try to coax it out of him. I have to make him see that staying loyal to the Order is the best choice for him."

"You like him." Draco grinned knowingly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione gasped, affronted.

"Exactly what I said. You like him. It's not an insult, Granger. He is a good man, and I think you'd be the woman to make him see it."

Hermione studied him for a moment. "He deserves some happiness, Draco. If I have to be the one to give it to him, then I will."

--

Severus looked over at Hermione for at least the tenth time that evening. In just four months, she took on a role that no one had ever assumed in his life: that of a constant companion.

With the exception of the times that he left his rooms, he was never out of earshot of her. She had amazed him with her ability to keep her mouth shut most of the time, and spared him her usual barrage of questions. And there was no doubt about it: she had a knack for brewing potions. She was almost wistful when she was at work, gliding from cupboard to table to cauldron with hardly a sound, carefully preparing ingredients and lovingly adding them into the mixture.

It didn't take a Legilimens to figure out what was going on inside her head, however. Though she clearly loved the art of potion making, she was not happy to be making draughts that were to be used in the service of the Dark Lord and his army. Past their first conversation, however, she never said a word about it.

He could feel her eyes on him occasionally when they were working in silence, and he knew that she admired and respected his talents. She always looked the most haggard when he would retrieve her from The Cell, where she was often nursing a troubled stomach. However, when they were together, she seemed almost relaxed, and even his most vexing comments did little to deter her serenity.

For not the first time since their shared captivity, he wondered why he had allowed himself to be stuck with her. Surely he had no concern for her safety. He tried to tell himself that it had just been to relieve him of the banal potions he had made when he began brewing again for the Dark Lord, but somehow he knew that it was more than that. The answer was staring him in the face, but he didn't dare admit it. To do so would be to turn himself over to something he'd never wanted, something in which he'd never believed.

He had to maintain his distance. They had never got onto friendly terms in the time she had been there, and this wasn't the time to start. They would brew in silence, occasionally discuss potions, and then he would continue trying to break her spirit with insults and snide remarks about her appearance, her skills, and her insufferable Gryffindor bravery.

He was on the Dark Lord's side. He would assist in bringing down The Order. He would do this so that soon he could finally be rid of everything. Teaching. Spying. Double-agency. Captivity.

Hermione.

Gods, when had he started thinking of her as that?

He had to see this war finished to be rid of her. If he could not, it would mean nothing good for either of them.

--

Hermione felt as though she were standing on the precipice of something, staring just over the edge into the abyss, not knowing quite what lay beneath her. She was at the same time terrified of it and thrilled with the uncertainty of it since her life had become so boring and monotonous.

Almost mechanically, she began the initial steps of the Polyjuice Potion. Though she never felt right making potions for Voldemort, it was when she was making things like this or Veritaserum that she began to feel deeply conflicted. These were not for mere healing purposes; they could prove dangerous if used improperly, which they very often were.

She steeled herself to her task, however, as she had begun to feel as though the only way to find some tiny crevice in Severus' impenetrable armor was to be silent and work diligently. She had to hope that the opportunity would present itself, and she couldn't risk angering him or letting on what her plan was.

Why was she being so compliant, she wondered. After all, there was a brash part of her screaming out inside of her head that she had the means to escape, or to confront him at least. She hadn't used one ounce of her wandless magic skills since arriving, though she had thought of it often. Certainly there were anti-Apparition wards placed all around the manor, so attempting that was foolish at best. There was a slim possibility that a Portkey would work, but she couldn't be sure.

She had to face it. She stayed and refused to fight her situation because she was determined not only to save herself and Draco's Army, but she was also determined to save Severus. The answer was always so close to her, but she felt as though every time she reached out to touch it, it moved just far enough away to elude her.

With a small, inaudible sigh, she set back to her work. She became so lost in it that she almost forgot her surroundings.

"You are doing that incorrectly." Severus' voice startled her, and she very nearly knocked over the cauldron.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, almost annoyed.

"You heard me. I said you are doing that incorrectly." He crossed his arms and glared at her fiercely.

"No disrespect, sir, but I made this potion in my second year…"

"With ingredients pilfered from my private stores," he interrupted, his silky tone shaming at the same time it was engaging.

"That is completely beside the point. I made this in my second year perfectly." She matched his expression and his stance, carefully setting aside her stirring rod.

"As I recall, you transformed into a cat, so I do not know that I would be boasting about my skills with this particular concoction if I were you."

Hermione began fuming inside. "That was only because I got the wrong hair to add to it. It had nothing to do with the potion!" With a final huff, she picked up the stirring rod once again and made to continue, purposefully looking away from him.

In an instant, he was by her side and gently grasping her stirring hand, following it in its motions. Hermione trembled at his touch, and suddenly, she felt a calm in her stomach that she had not known for a long time.

His voice was low and very nearly seductive. "Now, just here, you should add a counter-clockwise stir. Closer attention to these kinds of details will be necessary if you ever hope to move from a novice level apprentice to a Potions mistress."

Hermione kept stirring with Severus' hand over hers, their eyes locked. Everything stood still, and the very molecules in the air around them ceased moving. Hermione wanted to look away, but she couldn't.

Finally, it was Severus that pulled back his hand and stalked away. "When you have finished that particular portion of the brewing, make ready for bed. It is getting late."

Hermione shook herself back to reality and turned her attention to her work.

So many things were coming to a head, it seemed. If the escalation in Severus' work and his anxiety were any indication, something big was going to happen soon. The challenge was going to be figuring it all out before it was too late.