The sound of silence was deafening to his ears, slowly sending him mad, playing with his mind and minute by minute driving him a little crazier. There wasn't even as much a tip-toed footstep past his room in twenty-four hours. His stomach the only break in the silent monotony as it protested with hunger.
He laid on the bed, the sagging mattress unkind on his aging back, the bed creaking with even the slightest of movement. The stained ceiling was the only thing of interest to him at the moment. The yellowing peeling paint tainted with a smattering of black mould that assaulted the ceiling. That couldn't be good for him to be breathing in, he thought bitterly to himself as he sat up and looked forlornly out of the filthy, cobweb-covered window, the sun dipping fast behind the horizon, soon to leave him in the pitch black again.
Another day, another day he wasn't rescued. Another day he wasn't even an afterthought to the fucking cunts who were meant to be looking out for him. As usual, they were all for themselves and none for all. Typical.
He needed to devise an in-depth plan to save himself. Of course, he had to save himself. Not only did he have to look out for himself he had saved the hide of Harry Saint Fucking Potter on more than one occasion and look for the little prick had treated him. Pathetic.
Fuck. Now he had soured his mood, not that it could probably become any sourer than what it already was. He was being held captive by a group that included a trio of three children, two of who's ineptitude baffled him even after all these years and the third, much too smart for her own good.
He was bored out of his mind, already tearing through every square inch of the room, inspecting, criticizing and consuming the artefacts that he had found. Mentally berating the fact that Sirius Black was just as inept as his godson when he chanced upon an old assignment from Hogwarts pushed into the corner in a tattered box falling to pieces. How to brew draught of living death.
He had snorted at that one. The dumb shit had emphasised the use of unicorn blood and a fairy wing infusion. The potion required neither of those and if he had actually been tasked to brew such a potion, the poor cunt who consumed it would have been dead in a heartbeat. It was a shame it was actually a crime to force students to consume the potions they fucked up. It would sure rid the world of the dumb and the incompetent.
The first few days that he had been locked in here were interesting but now all he had left were a few tattered and torn books to bide his time and he wasn't all that interested in reading right now. He wanted his wand back, he wanted to be out doing things. The only silver lining to this shit cloud was the fact that he didn't have to please an overlord who didn't give two fucks about anyone but himself. A true sociopath in every form of the word.
He didn't have to pretend to be someone he wasn't right now when he was alone in here. He didn't have to play two sides and hope he came out trumps above them both. He could just switch his brain off, rest and relax. It was kind of nice for a change.
There were no snotty nosed little crotch nuggets running around aiming to ruin his day, there were no breaking up fights between Potter and Draco fucking Malfoy. Someday he was sure Draco went out of his way to start an argument with Potter just so he could linger around him a little longer. If he didn't know any better, he would almost say he could have felt the palpable sexual tension between the two young boys as they verbally and sometimes magically tore shreds off one another.
Soft footfalls walking up the creaking steps roused him from his thoughts. Bated breath waiting to see if they were coming for him. The person doing the stepping seemed hesitant, perhaps worried by something.
The door slowly opened and in stepped just the girl he wanted.
She opened the door and shut it gently behind her, all the while precariously holding a platter in her hand that had his daily rations upon it.
"Sorry, it's a bit late, Professor Snape."
She placed the platter on the small table she had set it on the day before.
Hooded eyes watched her with deep regard as she stood, waiting.
"What are you waiting for? A tip? I'm sorry but due to the circumstances, I am unable to provide one," He snarled out, harshly.
She blushed. "Sorry."
"And you don't have to call me Professor Snape, Miss Granger. I am no longer your professor… Obviously."
"Well, then you don't have to call me Miss Granger… Obviously," She mimicked him right down to the exact snark in the obviously he had added.
"What would you rather be called then? Know-it-all? Harry Potters plaything?" He questioned with the utmost sincerity in his voice.
"Hermione is fine," She said flatly. "And I am not Harry Potters 'plaything', I am not any bodies plaything." She took a few steps closer into the room.
"My apologies, Hermione." Her name liked acid on his tongue. "I was under the impression there was something going on between you and him." He lied. He just wanted to build a rapport with her, so any conversation was a good conversation.
"Who told you that?" She asked defensively, her face instantly dropping.
"Nobody. Just me making an observation from the outside." He shrugged and pulling himself up into a sitting position, the old bed creaking with every shift of his body upon it.
"So no one has said anything about Harry and me?" She asked nervously.
He shook his head no. "No. Why should they if there is nothing going on?"
He cocked an eyebrow, watching her shift from foot to foot on the spot. Nervousness coursing through her body so heavily he could almost smell it.
"No reason." Her features were stoic. Her shoulders rising in a small shrug.
Silence. Awkward silence.
"Are you cold?" It's a bit chilly in here. And dark."
"Great observational skills." He hissed bitterly, almost rolling his eyes.
"Let me fix that." She pulled her wand from her back pocket.
He watched her wand, fixated on it. He wanted to reach for it. He wanted to pluck it from her hand, hold it against her temple and unleash the killing curse on her and run. That would be the easiest thing to do right now. Not befriend a little swot he could hardly stand being around at the best of times.
He fingers twitched as his wicked mind raced at a hundred miles an hour. He wanted to do it; he really did. He willed himself to, he wanted to move, he wanted to lunge at her, but his body sat on the bed, stock still. He morally couldn't do it. Since when did he obtain a well fucking calibrated moral compass?
A few lazy flicks and swishes of her wand had the room at a decent temperature for the first time since he has been here and a few long forgotten and dusty candles sitting on a shelf had flicked to life, lighting the entire room.
"That's better." A meek smile passed her lips. It was the least she could do for him.
"Thank you," he said with sincerity. Actual sincerity.
"I'm sorry. Please don't tar me with the same brush as the others. I don't want to hold you captive here, I want nothing to do with it. Everyone has gone and left me here for a few days… I wasn't going to just go and leave you here. Kreacher is about a useful as a waterproof teabag so I couldn't leave it up to him to ensure you were ok. Harry and the order wouldn't let you go." She bit her bottom lip hard.
"I don't need a keeper, Hermione. While your actions are admirable, don't feel you have to hang around for me. The world will still keep spinning whether I am but a rotting corpse in here."
She looked horrified. "I couldn't do that. Not to you, not to anyone."
"Voldemort?" He questioned.
She thought for a moment with deep regard. "Perhaps we all have our limits. I could easily walk away and leave him locked up here to die."
"You are only human."
She nodded gently. "I best be off. "
"Thank you, Hermione." He nodded curtly as she left the room.
Getting on a first name basis so she thought of him as more than a murderous heathen; complete. The rest would come easier now.