A/N I'm changing the format on all of you once more; this chapter is in Snape's POV again.  I believe I dubbed it "literary something" last time, and that term's as good as any.  It's either this or write a pointless filler chapter, and I'm already beginning to feel that these chapters have nothing in them. 

"You wish for secrecy.  I will make no promises until I have heard the story – the full story."

Hermione was fiddling with the handle of her teacup.  She looked up, and he saw desperation in her eyes.  "Professor… I can't-"

"You can," he interrupted smoothly, "and you will.  Now, if you please."  Voice softening, he added, "I know how hard it must be, but I have a duty as a teacher to protect my students.  If I think secrecy can be maintained, then it will be so."

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath.  She was holding her teacup so hard that her knuckles were white.  "I… was walking after curfew, Professor, and I-"

He interrupted her again, "If you even consider saying 'you fell' then you seriously undermine my intelligence.  I do not want to administer Veritaserum."  She still looked desperate, but scared now too.  Snape sighed.  This was not turning out well.  "Very well.  I will ask you questions, and you will answer them truthfully.  If I think you are lying I will take this to the headmaster."

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly. 

"Why were you on Slytherin Tower last night?"

Hermione slowly put down the teacup, and sat up straight.  "I was sent an owl," she replied slowly, "requesting my presence."

"Who sent you this owl?"

"A student."

"Which student?" Snape asked, becoming frustrated.

"Please…" she said. "He threatened… I really can't tell you…"

Snape sighed heavily.  "What did he threaten?"

"My mother."

"Why would he threaten your mother?"

"He can hurt her.  He says he'll hurt her if I don't do as he says."

"How can a student hurt your mother?" Snape asked gently. 

"He can't," she told him, "but his father can.  His father used to be a Deatheater."

Snape's lips tightened.  "Why did he want you to come to the tower?"

"Sex," she told him flatly. 

"And he hurt you too?"

"Yes."

"How did he hurt you?"  It was like wringing water from a stone, Snape reflected, but at the same time he could fully understand her reluctance.  Whoever had done this to her deserved to go to Azkaban.  He deserved to go to Azkaban for a long time.

"He… just hurts me."  She suddenly scowled at the teacup that she had picked up again.  "He likes the power," she said suddenly.  "He likes having power over me, being able to tell me what to do, to throw me around!  He's enjoyed it, ever since he found out about Dad!  School was my only escape, and then he-"  she broke off, and suddenly she was crying.  She did not sob, did not move, but sat there silently, tears running down her face.  Her mask was gone, and Snape saw the side of her that she kept hidden from everyone.

The image of Hermione Granger, sitting on his couch, with tears of desperation and despair streaming down her face, would haunt him for years to come.

"Please," she asked desperately, "please, can I go now?"

Suddenly weary, Snape nodded his head.  "You may."

"You won't… tell anyone?"

"I will not, Miss Granger, provided that you come back either tomorrow or Tuesday and finish answering my questions."

"I…"

"Promise you will do so, Miss Granger," he told her, steel in his voice.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.  And then, tears still in her eyes, she met his and said, "thank you."  Then she fled.