Disclaimer: own nothing. All characters and places belong to J K Rowling, who is quite obviously not me. Oh what I would do if I had all that money...

Chapter Six

The next morning found Severus once again in the potions laboratory with Hermione, brewing a hideously difficult potion that required two people on hand to complete it accurately.

As they stood side by side, hands poised above the cauldron ready to add the first two ingredients to the already boiling water, a loud hissing noise filled the dungeon.

"What is it? There is nothing in the potion that should be hissing as yet, and I can't see-"

"If you are quiet then I will be able to tell you what the noise is," interrupted Hermione calmly. She reached to her neck and tugged at a silver chain that lay around it. Severus caught sight of a pendant on it, an image that looked familiar...

Hermione grasped that Dark Mark that hung around her neck, one hand closing around the shining ivory skull and the glittering emerald encrusted serpent that protruded from its mouth as if she handed things of such value and beauty every day.

But then, thought Severus, she probably does.

Hermione raised the pendant until the snake was level with her face. Severus realised with shock that it was the source of the hissing noise, and that Hermione appeared to be listening to it.

"My father has invited me to his quarters for a chat." Severus snorted at the idea of the Dark Lord wanting a 'chat', but was silenced with a warning look from Hermione. Yesterday's incident was still fresh in his mind. "You will return to your room until I summon you again."

"But what about the potion? And how did you understand what the snake said, because you certainly aren't a parseltongue." (AN: correct spelling?)

"The hissing was not actually the language of snakes," Hermione informed Severus, not completely sure why she was telling him classified information but doing so anyway. "It sounded just like normal speech to me, the intended recipient, but there is a type of coding charm that stops any other people understanding it."

"Clever. I suppose you just tell everybody else that you are a parseltongue, then?"

"Of course," she replied with a smile.

Severus was silent for a moment as Hermione put out the fire burning under the as yet unmade potion. As they prepared to separate at the door to his room, he asked her,

"Why aren't you a pareseltongue yourself, then?"

Hermione froze, looking at him.

"The gift of understanding the language of the snakes is not passed on in every generation. I was missed out."

Hermione parroted out what her father had always told her without hesitation and a great deal of thought, having done so many times before.

"That isn't what I heard."

"Pardon?"

"The few lines blessed with the gift pass it on to every generation without fail. Otherwise, it would have died out many years ago."

"You must be mistaken," said Hermione slowly. "I will leave you now. Be a good little potions master while I am gone."

With that, she apparated with a pop and Severus found himself being propelled into his room. He looked behind him and saw the door close with a snap, locks on the outside immediately clicking into place.

Then something dawned on him.

Hermione apparated, thought Severus with a smile. Anything she can do....

Severus waited for a moment to collect himself, then took a deep breath and apparated.

And then found himself being slammed back to the ground with a crack.

He stood up slowly, dusting himself off. Of course apparating out was not an option. Hermione probably had wards up around the quarters only allowing herself (and probably her 'father') to apparate in and out. In hindsight, it was a stupid thing to have even attempted.

Hermione smiled as she felt the anti-apparation wards that she had set up in her quarters being tested. That man doesn't miss a trick, she though. It figures.

She was standing outside Voldemort's public chamber, and had been doing so for a minute or two.

It was a game that they had; in a moment she would find some way of getting through the door undetected, and try to get herself as near as possible to her father before he sensed her presence.

Hermione whispered a quick spell to herself.

A moment later, an ant crept under the door of the room, slowly trundling towards the figure that was sitting in a deep, high-backed black chair.

"Accico ant."

As Hermione found herself flying through the air towards her father, she quickly changed form again. The fully grown woman elegantly landed on her feet on the floor, and, after the cursory nod from her father, took a seat in one of the other chairs in the room.

"Not up to your normal standard I must say, Hermione."

"I know, I know. I was a little preoccupied."

"You forgot that all but a couple of the wards in this room sense life forces in any form! How could you be preoccupied enough to forget that?"

Hermione could sense Voldemort's disappointment, and hung her head. Harsh as he was to all of his minions, he had always been kind to her and she hated to disappoint him.

"I am not sure. I assure you that it will not happen again."

"I hope that it doesn't. It is not fitting for a woman of your position to be caught off guard."

Hermione forgot her age for a moment and scowled openly at her father. He twisted his face back into what Hermione had come to understand as his look of amusement. With Voldemort, it was often very difficult to tell.

"So, daughter, how are you faring with your new teacher?"

"Not too badly. I have learnt a great deal already."

Yes, thought Hermione. A great deal. But I think that there is much more that I need to find out. And not only about potions...

Severus's comment about the reoccurrence of the gift for parseltongue was still running through her mind, though she knew that she could never ask her father about it.

She attempted to push her doubts from her mind, and focussed solely on the man in front of her.

"I felt a lot of anger coming from your quarters yesterday. What happened?"

"Severus insulted me. Don't worry, father, I put him back in his place."

"Good, good. You do know that I could have him killed and find you a new potions master in no time at all, don't you? I admit that they may not be quite up to Severus's standard, but I am sure that they would be passable."

"No, father," said Hermione quickly. "I am quite fine with Severus."

A pang ran through her at the thought of losing the man currently pacing in his room.

She told herself quickly that it was because she wanted to hear more of his interesting –but purely fictional, she reminded herself- tales.

Not because she liked him. Certainly not because she cared.

The daughter of the Dark Lord should only care about herself, her father, and power. Hermione wanted to be a good daughter. She would make him proud of her.

"Are you sure, Hermione?"

"Yes, father."

The man paused for a moment, then nodded in acceptance.

"Fair enough, if you really are certain. You may go back to him now, I suppose."

Hermione nodded, debated kissing the man on the cheek, then decided against it and apparated out of the room. Good daughter or not, there was always a small part of her that was sickened by her father, by what he had done to himself.

The small part that cried out against the killing and torture, against the constant fight against 'the light'.

The small part that she spent an inordinate amount of time pushing down.

Hermione sank into one of the armchairs back in her quarters, trying to empty her mind of all of these thoughts. They had troubled her occasionally before she had met Severus, but mattered little to her then; just a small attack of conscience she could easily overcome.

Now these attacks came at her from every direction all of the time; when she ate, when she spoke, even when she slept. They were slowly driving her mad.

Voldemort sat in his chambers, lost in thought.

When Hermione had been in the room, he had felt her confusion, her pain in the aura that hung around her. She was already doubting the life that she believed she had always led.

He had known that one day, Hermione would find out who she truly was and leave his side. He had prepared for it, planning how he would dispose of her.

But he had not planned on it happening so soon, not even thought that she would have an influence as strong as Severus to help her on her way.

The potions master was certainly manipulative; he knew that much. How else would he have managed to survive among the Death Eaters for so long? But it was such a waste...

At least his lessons seemed to be holding out for the moment. She appeared to be in denial of her true heritage, at least for the time being. He had a little time left before he needed to act.

But what to do?

Voldemort sat in his chair for a number of minutes, turning over idea after idea in his head but immediately dismissing them one after another.

Finally, something came to him.

The Dark Lord's face twisted into a smile.

Hee hee, have a guess what happens next! I just had to do it- this fic has a distressing lack of my trademark cliffies, and I am not having it! I know its not a REAL cliffie- but it has the style of one, so there you go...

Thanks to Joani, niko goldeye (I don't know him/her, sorry. I will read some of the stuff if I can find time.) Heather, Christieanne-Anna, Jewlz, stargazer starluver, squashes(I think squasher has a nice ring. And think of the possibilities...), MagicalGirl, Don't Tell Harry (what can I say? Er... thanks for the twinkles. Lol!), annon, ClaireRickman, sophianwin (I'm not a great writer, but I'm trying to improve. Thanks for taking the time to help me with this huuuuuge task!) and Artemis MoonClaw .Lots of nice big internet cookies to you all!

Please take the time to review- tell me what you think I should improve, things you want to see more of, less of or have not seen at all. Please help me!