Disclaimer: Now if it were mine, would I be writing fanfiction stories about it? Didn't think so; no, its J.K. Rowling's.
So, this chapter was finished at one in the morning when I should have been studying for exams. That's a really bad thing, right? Well, anyhow, please be aware that this chapter has mention of torture. I don't think it is particularly graphic, but it is there and I wanted to let y'all know that. And Bright Eyes, which has nothing to do with this story or chapter whatsoever, is an awesome group (Sunrise, sunset…). Please review, and I really hope that you enjoy.
Hermione, in a pleasant mood after their visit, realized that she had best do her homework before Snape got there.
Severus surged out of his dungeons in a foul mood. His Dark Mark was appearing again, although it was not altogether unexpected as it had been exactly a week since his last visit with the Dark Lord. It was also, though doubted deliberate, the same day that Hermione was to be getting out of the Infirmary. Amazingly enough, her help had succeeded in more than doubling his normal research time, and he had even gotten some sleep into the bargain. She had also actually held up her end of the bargain and gone over all the material that he had brought in for her. And Poppy had mentioned that she was an exemplary patient. Now Severus was no fool. He knew that there were only so many hours in a day no matter how fast as reader one was. But he had monitored Miss. Granger's recovery personally, in addition to Poppy's expert readings, and the girl was fine. He would have to send a message to her room and tell her that tonight's session was to be called off. He would skip dinner in the Great Hall tonight, but he had to contact Albus first.
He entered the Great Hall by the small teacher's side entrance, built specifically for times like this when discretion was imperative. He slipped near Albus's chair and whispered his mission in the man's ear. No one had really noticed his entrance save Minerva, who rarely missed anything. The Headmaster acknowledged him, told him to be damned careful and told him that if he came home dead he wouldn't let his ghost near the dungeons. Thus admonished, Snape fairly ran back to his chambers and out his hidden entrance, again unheeding of the gaze that followed is figure out of the Hall. The pain Voldemort was sending him through his DarK Mark was even more excruciating than usual, and Severus wondered if this time he really had been found out. Not bloody likely, considering how well pleased Voldemort had been with his performance at the Revel last week. He had grabbed his robes as he ran past his chamber and taken the time to put them on as he carefully warded his rooms. Then he had continued his swift pace out the door and through the grounds till he could Apparate.
Snape snapped back into focus, now in Romania. He had seen the creepy manor Voldemort held there just before he had prostrated himself over the ground.
"Severus, rise, my dear boy. This is a quick meeting, I just thought I could do to hear the progress my most loyal members are making on their missions. We're just waiting for Fudge to get here. He seems to have some sort of problem with Apparating as quickly as the rest of you do. I think we'll have to call him on that, don't you boys?" There was hearty laughter in anticipation of the cruelty soon to be afflicted on their comrade, but Severus knew just how forced it was. They all knew that next time it could be them. Severus, thus given permission to straighten up, did so. He gave the assortment of men a cool look-over, knowing that there would be no surprises in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. Yes, Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, his wife, himself, Macnair, his sister Avaira Zabini, Pettigrew, the Lestranges who had escaped from Azkaban with the Dark Lord's help shortly after his rise, and Fudge was to arrive soon. There were others, many others, but these were the significant ones. Even he wasn't positive what they were all doing, though he had been able to garner clues from the coded reports the Dark Lord had them all make. Malfoy and Macnair and Fudge were all up to things at the Ministry, Avery and Nott were doing something with the Dark creatures, Crabbe and Goyle were simply being the muscle that they were and helping the others when it was needed, and the Lestranges were scoping out muggle movement. The most successful areas had been small-scale muggle attacks, two or three at a time, and slow but certain corruption in the Ministry. The targeting of mudblood student's families had gone badly, although there had been some exceptions. The failure rate was largely due to Snape's efforts. It was the least he could do; maybe someday he would get lucky and this would all be over. Or he'd be dead. Snape was immediately aware the second Fudge Apparated outside the circle in the trees; Voldemort often had his followers Dark Marks activated to different places in case he had something he wanted to do or say individually.
Fudge came absolutely running from the copse of trees, eyes wide and terrified, pleading with the Dark Lord desperately that there was an excuse, that he hadn't meant it. They all knew it was in vain. A lazy flick of Voldemort's wand and Fudge was writhing in the center of the circle from pain such as only the crucio could inflict. Snape saw Macnair lick his lips. Although they could all imagine themselves to be the one with pain pulsing through every vain, Macnair was like a jackal; his favorite prey the wounded.
"I'm rather sick of Fudge's incompetence. Macnair, perhaps you'd like to teach him that a good Death Eater gets results." He growled the last word, turning a chilling gaze onto all those gathered. Macnair smiled cruelly and bowed to his Lord.
"It would be my pleasure, my Lord." He grabbed the bag he always brought to meetings and strode into the center of the circle, oozing dominance over the weak-willed Minister, now suffering the after-affects of the curse. Voldemort smiled and nodded his approval, then turned to the rest of the Circle.
"You may break ranks and enjoy the unexpected entertainment Cornelius has provided us with. I will be speaking with each of you before you leave, though." No one noticed; no one would ever notice, but Snape barely kept himself from gritting his teeth and screaming in frustration. Instead of enjoying a conversation with a brilliant student in the fight against this monster standing to his left, he would be stuck here for hours talking to the mindless brutes that were his peers. And that made eavesdropping on their conversations and those of Voldemort's that much more difficult. Macnair could make torture last for an interminable amount of time. He was the master of causing the maximum amount of physical pain with the least amount of physical marking, but he was a rather inept wizard. Snape was considered the best at psychological torture, a banner which served to torture him as much as anything he ever did to any of his victims. Narcissa came simpering up to him at that point.
"Severus," she cooed in what she much mistakenly thought of as a seductive voice," how have you been? Lucius and I have been wondering when you would join us at the Manor for a simple social visit. You always turn down invitations to gatherings, lately. Why, you missed a simply divine little party of the Parkinson's last week. Really, the other families in our circle are beginning to wonder if you're absolutely determined to sully the proud Snape name!" Severus kept himself from rolling his eyes. The name of Snape had been sullied the moment his father was born. He had simply dragged it further into the mud, though not in the way that Narcissa seemed to think. His father had been a proud arrogant bastard determined to bend everyone he came in contact with to his will. His mother was delicate, pretty, and a spineless bitch, determined to pick at anyone who did not live up to her own standards. They had made a fine pair and achieved a wonderfully miserable life together. Their favorite object of ridicule had naturally been their son, not up to their standards in anything but academics. And, really, who cared about that? His grandparents were all dead by the time he was born, leaving his parents with an enormous lot of money. Neither of them ever worked a day in their lives. They had both died in a boating accident when he was thirteen, leaving him everything; the money, the houses, the scandals they had been so fond of causing, and the loneliness.
"Terribly sorry, Narcissa. But frankly, your little parties bore me to death. Only the Dark Lord's work interests me," he sneered. There we go, he thought. Put the little bitch in her place. Remind her that I'm better than everyone here. But he knew it was false. He was lower than the very mud that clung to his shoes. The blond-haired woman gave a little sniff and wandered off to complain to someone about how horrid he was. No one would pay her any heed. Although a vicious woman in her own right, all of her power and wealth came from Lucius. He strode away to gather what he could from his compatriot's conversations, double checking the story he and Dumbledore had planned for him to feed to Voldemort and trying to ignore the base howls of pains coming from so near by.
An especially loud scream from Fudge's already abused vocal cords brought everyone's attention back to the scene of the torture. Severus could smell the blood and vomit and feces clearly although he stood a good deal away. It was the curse of being a Death Eater and a Potions Master concurrently. Voldemort had worked his way through the crowd of Death Eaters in the past hour and Severus had had a fair amount of success with his spying. The Potions Master was the last one that the Dark Lord approached. He personified ease itself as the reptilian man walked to him. He gave Voldemort a deep obeisance, forcing himself not to shiver when he felt a chill hand caress his head. He straightened in acknowledgement of the unspoken command.
"Severus, Severus. What progress have you made with your spying on the Order and the location of muggle parents?"
"The Order is still refusing to launch an offensive attack per the Old Fool's orders, though Bill Weasley has been arguing strongly for one. There has been talk of inducting Harry Potter to the order, as he already knows about it, but I spoke convincingly about how much horror he has already had in his poor, young life, and they all backed off, agreeing to let him keep his innocence for a little longer." His voice dripped with loathing and sarcasm for the members of the Order. He could have easily won a muggle acting award, as there were no people he respected more. In truth, he didn't even really loath the little shit of a Potter boy, simply that James had been a prick and Harry was turning into one, as his behaviour to Hermione proved. No, he wouldn't sully her name by even thinking about her while in the direct presence of the Dark Lord. It may be superstitious, but Severus allowed himself a few foibles now and then.
"Yes, we will have to take care of Weasley. Could a potion be slipped into his tea, perhaps? A horribly painful one?" Little amused the Dark Lord more than torture. Severus only wished he had realized that twenty years ago.
"I will look into it, my Lord." He spoke as though he relished the idea of taking Bill Weasley's bright life. Thank whatever deities weren't in Heaven that Voldemort was nowhere near as omniscient as the "Old Fool".
Voldemort nodded in satisfaction, then pulled Severus to the circle that had gathered around Macnair, who was putting the final touches on his work on Fudge.
"I've come to a decision, Cornelius. Would you like to hear it? No answer? Well, I do suppose I will tell you anyways. I don't tolerate failure. I don't tolerate anything save a complete surrender of your mind, soul…and body. The rest of you would do well top keep this in mind. Mcnair." Voldemort's voice was soft and crooning, and the man on the ground whimpered in fright of what he knew that voice was ordering. The rest of the circle, save Snape, flinched as one. Macnair plunged a dagger into the man's stomach so that a great deal of blood erupted into the air, falling on the surrounding Death Eaters. Snape calmly wiped a drop off his check and licked his finger slowly, telling his rebellious stomach that this was a part he must play. Voldemort's wide red eyes flared approvingly, and that bony, freezing hand patted his back.
"Meeting dismissed." He turned to the Potions Master. "Don't forget about our plans for Mr. Weasley, Severus. Have a good night; perhaps there will be a Gryffindor sneaking about in the castle you can have some fun with." The man nodded, an image of Miss. Granger flashing eerily before his eyes, before he turned away from his Master with a final bow and Disapparated.
Severus stumbled onto the ground near the boundaries of the wards of Hogwarts, nearly falling before his innate grace caught him. He straightened, but it only lasted until an enormous wave of nausea swept over him. It forced him to his hands and knees, retching the blood, the screams, the touch of Voldemort out of his system. He retched until he could no longer. He longed to stay here, in the cool night air with the sound of the Forbidden Forest ringing in his ears and the feel of solid, virginal earth beneath his hands. But there was work to be done. He took a shuddering breath and picked himself up, intending to report to Dumbledore immediately. He cleansed himself with a few flicks of his wand. There was no need to show his weakness of to his employer any more than necessary. A moment later, and the grounds of Hogwarts were once again unsullied by human presence.
Hermione sat at the dining table, waiting for dinner to be over so that she could escape the looks that pounded her from all sides of the Hall. Dumbledore had stopped over midway through dinner to tell her that Professor Snape was unable to work with her that night, having underestimated the amount of time a certain personal project of his would take. It had taken all of Hermione's control not to snort; the meticulous Potions Master being wrong about something, and so blatant as time estimation? Never. What did the Headmaster take her for? But she had let the obvious lie slide, instead choosing to nod respectfully to the man who was a rock in this sea of wartime. She pushed another pea around her plate, then lifted it to her mouth and bit into it. She nearly screamed when she heard Harry's voice in her ear, even though he was sitting on her right side. She wasn't sure how that had happened, only that Ronald Weasley meddled rather more than was good for him.
"What…I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said to me."
"I asked if you were going to the Quidditch game tomorrow. Its Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, and Ron told me to tell you that Ella, being the keeper and all, would love it if you showed up." Monotone.
"I suppose you'll be cheering for, oh, what's her name? Or has it changed in the past week, Harry? I certainly wouldn't be surprised. But you may tell that interfering busybody that I have work that I…yes. And he can tell Ella that I wish her luck, I know she was very excited about making the team this year," Harry turned away from her to relay the message, and no further communication occurred between the two the rest of the meal.
When at last Hermione judged she would be able to leave without causing a buzz of gossip, she exited the Great Hall, wondering what she was going to do since Snape was unable to show. For reasons that the Headmaster thought she was better of not knowing. Well, she would trust the man's judgment, certainly, but she still felt as though they needed to trust her more. I mean, if they believe in me enough to be an asset in making this potion, the least they could do is assume that I'm not going to blab my mouth off about things, she thought with a little bitterness. She entered the Head Girl room, not having to go through the Common Room to get to them. For this, she was extremely thankful. She didn't know that she could take the hostility she had felt the first time she had walked through their with Ron after getting Madame Pomfrey's okay to leave the Infirmary after breakfast. She had been in it only momentarily, when she had dropped off her books before rushing to see her professors to secure times to do make-up work and go over homework that she had not yet gotten back. It was the same as it had always been. She didn't know why she had had the funny idea that it had changed. She shrugged at her vagaries and settled down to make sure that she had all of her weekend homework done before Sunday. That way, perhaps she and Professor Snape could set up time tomorrow to replace what they had wanted to do today.
Hours later, shoulders hurting from slumping over books and papers, but nonetheless satisfied with the completion of her work and the fact that she had finally been able to utilize her private rooms, Hermione stretched and stood up. She store her work away with a quick flick of her wand. Debating upon bathing now or tomorrow morning, she searched through her drawers for her favorite nightwear. By the time she had pulled the long, simple nightshirt out, she had decided that she wanted one tonight, then a quick refreshing shower tomorrow. Grabbing some underwear as well, she walked into her bathroom, which was already preparing a bath with her favorite scent and temperature. It was amazing that, horrendous as that bathroom in the Infirmary was, it had contained her favorite scent. Within moments, she was relaxing in the steaming water. Moments later, she gave an enormous splash as she tried to keep herself from falling asleep in the deep tub. Realizing that she was rather more tired than she would have liked to admit, she finished bathing and turned down the covers of her inviting looking bed. And yet once she was firmly ensconced between the sheets, she could do nothing but toss and turn, alternately hot and cold without reason. Her mind was both racing too fast for sleep and going too slowly to be rhythmic. In frustration, she threw her covers off and, reaching for her wand, summoned her robe and slippers. There's only one thing for it, she thought as she tied the sash of the robe tightly and stepped outside into the corridor.
Okay, so we're all wondering where Hermione is going, right? Right, well the muses actually deigned to tell me, but I can't make any promises as to when the next chapter is going to come. Instead, please leave a note in your review or email me at amariran@yahoo.com and tell me if you would like me to put you on a mailing list for the next chapter. My textbook awaits studying, so I'll write out my review replies quickly and then post up.
Much thanks to: Sarah T., Robyn, Usuu Bishouji, lollylips3, and Ferguspork (where did you get that name?); your kind words were much encouraging.
Loony Lupin: Glad you like me characterizations, the paragraphing I will try to attend to, but it does take an enormous amount of time, so I will see how it goes. Yeah, I think Ron is going to be very sweet in this story. Harry already tried to visit, if you will recall. He came with his Invisibility Cloak while Hermione was looking over the potions research on Sunday; she didn't notice him, he felt bad, so he left. Its in chapter five.
Angel of the North: Oh, gods, do I know that its cliché. And I'm sorry for it, but the muses control the story and they alone will decide what goes into it. But I thinak you much for the compliment about my writing style. Harry is not a main character yet, as far as I know, but I think we'll get to know him some more as the story goes on. I have a great idea, I'm just not sure the story will let me put it in.
Janet: You insane person; what book from the fearless series are you talking about? Yes, the grape leaves are from Aladdins, or maybe the Greek Festival. Damn it, now I'm hungry. Well, at least I don't have school at the moment. There was a caring side of Snape in the last chapter?? Erm, you do realize that you mistyped want so that it said wank an since you were speaking britspeak…*snicker*. Anyhow, thanks for reading and reviewing.
Madeleine Jete: Hope you had a good New Year's yourself, I did, and I am very glad that you decided to check out JOH. Thanks for them kind words;)
Eternal Queen: Glad that you agree with my gradual romance; it may take a while, but it will eventually get there, muses willing. Thank you!