Chapter 13

"How is your Mudblood, Severus?"

Severus knows an answer—a verbal one, anyway—is not expected, as the Dark Lord tears into his mind in his savage, unsubtle way. Granger screaming as he deflowers her. Then he's taking her from behind. Giving her instructions during her Potions tutorial. Watching her in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table, talking to Potter, who sits next to her. Another meal, with Potter sitting across from Granger, talking animatedly. Granger saying good morning as she passes from her room to the door on her way out. Granger surrounded by her books on the sofa when Severus came back to their rooms unexpectedly once.

The Dark Lord pulls out, leaving Severus with a throbbing headache, as always. "You have not taken your pleasure since the first time?"

"There was little pleasure, my lord, filthy thing that she is. For the present, I am endeavoring to gain her trust, as planned."

"By assisting her with her exam preparation and permitting her to see her friends? And not forcing yourself on her?"

"Exactly, my lord."

"And are you succeeding?"

"It is early, yet, my lord, but I believe so."

"Potter still trusts her?"

"Yes, my lord. He accepts that the marriage is merely for the Mudblood's protection, so she remains in his confidence. By the time I begin to seduce her and subvert her loyalties, Potter will be accustomed to the idea that she is my wife in name only, and nothing has changed, and will suspect nothing."

The Dark Lord turns to Dolohov. "You were wrong about Severus, Antonin. He did not want the Mudblood as a plaything, as you did. He wanted only to further my aims, with no concern for his own pleasure. He is patient, and bides his time, for my sake."

Dolohov glances at Severus, his fury barely contained, then back at the Dark Lord. "Yes, my lord."

The Dark Lord turns to Severus. "You may do with him as you wish, my faithful servant."

Severus bows. "My lord." He turns his wand toward Dolohov, who cringes. He casts the Cruciatus, but the intensity is low, and he doesn't hold it long.

"You show mercy?" the Dark Lord asks. "After what he did to you?"

"Merely restraint, my lord. Each of us, your servants, will be needed in the coming battle. Your needs outweigh my petty desire for revenge."

"Yesssss." The red eyes gleam and the hideous face twists in what Severus knows is the closest it can come to a smile. God, the man—if one can still use that term—is more susceptible to sycophancy that anyone Severus has ever known. "You have pleased me, Severus. Go back to your Mudblood and gain her trust, so you can tell me Potter's plans."

"My lord." He bows and walks toward the door. Behind him, he hears a scream that he recognizes as Dolohov's.


"I need to go see him!" Hermione says. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"He's all right," Harry says. "Lavender's up there with him now."

"Oh." Reading between the lines, Hermione realizes that Harry means that Ron wouldn't want her there. They're at dinner in the Great Hall, and her appetite has vanished. Harry keeps eating, since teenage boys are hungry even when their best friends have nearly died from poisoned mead.

"What about you, Hermione?" Harry asks. "Are you all right?"

"Me? Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry glances at the staff table, where Snape's seat is empty.

"We barely speak outside my tutorials." She smiles. "Don't tell anyone, but he's actually less annoying to live with than Parvati and Lav-Lav."

Harry snorts.

"My life is quite boring, Harry. I want to hear what's going on with you." She casts Muffliato. "Are you still meeting with Dumbledore?"

"Speaking of that spell, your git of a husband stole my book. And Slughorn just let him."

"What happened?"

"Snape comes in during our Potions class, walks over to my work station and just picks up the Half Blood Prince's book. He hands me another one, new and unmarked, and walks out." Harry narrows his eyes at her. "What I want to know is, how did he even know about the book? Did you tell him about it?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you've been jealous all year that I'm beating you in Potions."

"Harry, I'm not even in Potions class anymore. I'm taking my NEWT soon. Class grades are meaningless now."

He looks at her, trying to decide whether she's telling the truth. She is, of course, in that sneaky, Slytherin way of telling a literal truth that hides a lie by omission.

"Yeah," Harry says finally. "I don't suppose you'd so something that awful, even if you were jealous."

Guilt twists inside her, but she schools her features. "I'm glad you trust me." Another truth that conceals a lie. They come so easily now. Should she be worried about that?

"Can you come to the Room of Requirement after dinner so I can tell you what's been going on?"

"Yes."

"He won't mind?"

"Harry, I'm in the library till past curfew most nights. I told you, we—"

"Barely see each other, yeah."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that he's being decent about all this?"

"Because he's Snape, who steals my book and picks on us and takes House points for no reason at all and assigns disgusting detentions and insults us and, oh yeah, is a Death Eater, Hermione."

Hermione glances around, but the spell is in place and no one else heard. "Come on." She stands up. "Tell me what's been happening."


Horcruxes. Fucking hell, as her husband would say. She wonders whether Dumbledore has told Snape about them. He must have. He'd be crazy not to. Surely the man isn't relying on a teenage boy who can't shield his mind from the Dark Lord to hunt them down and destroy them?

After Harry told her about the ring, the locket, all of it, she'd tried to work with him on Occlumency. Now that she's better at it, she thought maybe she'd have more success with Harry, but she didn't. He really doesn't have the patience.

But she did learn something extremely useful during that otherwise unsuccessful lesson. During one of their sessions, Snape made a caustic remark about Dumbledore eavesdropping on people's thoughts.

"How does he do that?" Hermione asked at the time. "Doesn't he have to use his wand, look into the person's eyes, and cast the spell?"

"Beginners have to do that," Snape said.

"But you do that, during our lessons."

"In order to show you how it's done."

"So, you could be looking at my thoughts when I didn't even know?"

"I could."

"But you wouldn't, right?" she said, biting her lip. God. The idea that he could do that…

Snape hesitated then. "No," he said. "Unless it's necessary."

"What does that mean?" she demanded. She could well imagine him thinking that satisfying his own damn curiosity constituted necessity.

"If your life is in danger."

"Oh," she said. "Do you promise?"

He promised, and she believed him, but the idea of it made her nervous. It also made her curious to see if she could do it. She wouldn't dare try it on Snape, of course, but during their Occlumency lesson tonight, she tried it on Harry. She rationalized it by telling herself that he was already expecting her to look at his thoughts, so it wasn't as though she was doing it just sitting across from him at dinner or something like that, which really would be unethical.

And she'd done it. On the one hand, she kind of wished she hadn't, because he was fantasizing about Ginny in a way she really wish she could unsee—no wonder he couldn't concentrate to Occlude!—but on the other hand, now she knew she could do it, and without Harry having any idea.

She walks slowly back toward their rooms. When she arrives, Snape is out. Just as well, since she hasn't decided how much of what she's learned tonight to tell him. All of it, eventually, she thinks, but probably not tonight. She needs to think first, and do some research on her own.

She walks toward Snape's bookshelves.