Hermione laid as flat as her body would allow. She ignored how the damp earth began to seep into her robes, reaching her skin and chilling her core. She was breathing fast, quiet but rapid breaths that turned into steam when she exhaled. Snatchers found their camp.
Her charms were supposed to ward off Death Eaters and snatchers, but they were tracked. The unmistakable figure of Fenrir Greyback and a wizard named Scabior trudged steadfastly up a nearby hill, trailed by a group of four weary snatchers. Hermione strained her ears to make out pieces of their conversation – through a garble of conversation her ears pricked at one name, "Harry Potter." Her heart sank.
The snatchers paced onward, heads jerking to birds in flight, eyes darting furtively. They were unaware of her position in the reeds, but this position did not provide the best line of sight to the trespassers. Hermione craned her neck to glimpse Greyback holding his nose high into the air. He inhaled deeply and smiled. His sharp teeth gleamed.
Greyback turned to Scabior and muttered something indistinguishable. Scabior tensed, gripping his wand, and motioned the remaining snatchers to ready their wands.
A hundred thoughts flooded into Hermione's head. Harry and Ron would be safe from capture if her warding spells held. By now Harry and Ron would be aware of Greyback's presence, but the camp would remain obscured to him if the boys remained quiet.
At last, the most distressing thought reached her mind. Would Harry and Ron make an undoubtedly foolish attempt to protect her from capture? Should she disapparate now, exposing herself and possibly Harry and Ron? If she were to flee, how would they find each other again without exposing themselves to more Death Eaters? Why did she insist on fetching water alone?
The party stopped on the outskirts of her camp's obscura charm. Greyback continued to smell the air around their camp, pacing an invisible barrier. He roared menacingly into the air, daunting her friends to reveal themselves. He was met with silence.
A strong wind rolled over Hermione's back and sent shivers down her spine. Her clothes were soiled with mud and heavy with moisture. The wind bit through to her skin like Greyback's teeth on soft flesh.
Greyback whipped his neck suddenly in her direction, his eyes searching for something. His nose pointed down to her hiding spot, he motioned his party toward Hermione's position and began to run away from camp. Toward her.
The wind. Her scent had carried to Greyback, Hermione realized, and she had been discovered.
Hermione swiftly slid her wand from her pocket and jumped upright to face the men. Behind them, Harry and Ron were running out of the camp's protective shields, down the hill, throwing hexes and shouting curses to hinder the snatchers. Harry threw a jinx at a snatcher's legs, which locked and sent the man headfirst into rocks below. Greyback did not seem to notice the world behind him and with his teeth bared at Hermione, he lunged.
"Hermione! GO!" Ron screamed for Hermione to disapparate, but the werewolf was too close. Ron blocked a curse from one snatcher and advanced closer to Scabior. Hermione pointed her wand at Greyback.
"Expuls-" before she could finish, Greyback was on top of her, teeth bared, his scarred face inches from hers.
Before Greyback could move closer, Scabior sent a curse throwing him off Hermione. Her wand twisted out of her hands as Greyback flew off her. He grabbed it as he rolled to her side.
Hermione turned back around to find Scabior's wand at her neck. Greyback growled in anger, turning Hermione's wand at Scabior then back to Hermione. The two locked eyes, with hatred for Greyback searing through her veins.
About ten meters away, Harry and Ron continued to fight the remaining snatchers. Hermione dragged her eyes from Greyback's and glanced to her combating friends. Harry was struck in the chest by a bright blue curse that threw him back in the air. Ron managed to land a body-bind curse to Harry's assailant, petrifying the snatcher as he fell to the ground. Dazed, Harry looked to Hermione. He opened his mouth as if about to say something before Hermione's world became a blur.
"To Severus." Scabior said to Fenrir, and roughly grabbed under Hermione's arm. Fenrir reached out to Scabior's other hand, and they disapparated away from the fight.
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Hermione and Fenrir were dropped sharply onto the stones of a cold, damp floor. Immediately, a wand was pointed square at Hermione's chest, Scabior staring intensely down the other end of it.
"Incarcerous." Hermione felts her hands snap behind her back, and thick, fibrous ropes wound around her wrists. "Langlock." Scabior flicked his wand again, and Hermione's tongue snapped to the roof of her mouth, glued.
She fought against the bindings for a moment before she succumbed to its futility. Instead, she turned her attention to her new surroundings, hoping to find a means of escape. Scabior had disapparated with the two of them in tow, to this dark hut which smelled of mildew and earth. There was a fine layer of dust across the hut, and damaged furniture scattered about the room in a perturbingly unnatural way. Greyback was also examining the room, pacing its corners, and sniffing the air.
Unable to contain himself, Greyback snarled at Scabior. "You attacked me."
Scabior's fierce eyes met the werewolf's. "You tried to bite the girl."
Greyback glanced down to the felled witch on the floor and bared his teeth at her. Hermione fought back a shiver.
Scabior continued without acknowledging Fenrir's look at Hermione. "The bounty depends on the children being relatively unharmed. Severus would not consider a ravenous, wolf-beast of a girl to be unharmed." He casually flicked his wand toward the fireplace and a roaring fire lit the room.
"And what of the Malfoys?" Fenrir asked. "Their bounty makes no mention of condition received." The fire flickered, and the wolf's shadow cast a large presence over Hermione's bound form.
Scabior flashed Fenrir an irritated look. "The agreement has always been the highest bidder. If you intend to bite every one of our captives, then perhaps this partnership has come to an end."
Hermione looked to Scabior, unnerved by the conversation.
Fenrir shook his head. "No. I'm staying. But what of the other two? The boys?"
Scabior paused, gazing to Fenrir in pensive silence. "I will send an owl to the remaining snatchers. If the boys were captured, we will inform Severus that the full bounty is owed. If not, she would make a useful lure. Perhaps the threat of a wolf bite may suffice to bring them in."
Hermione closed her eyes at the thought. She couldn't imagine which scenario was worse. Being the captive of Dumbledore's traitor and murderer? Enduring a were-bite and sold to Lucius?
Greyback grinned, his sharp teeth eager at the thought. "Shall we call on Severus?"
Scabior reached into his robes and pulled out a pinch of silvery powder. He threw it into the fire, which turned an emerald green. "Severus Snape," he commanded, and the three of them waited.
Minutes passed but felt like hours to Hermione. Her heart pounded in anticipation of seeing those dark, cold eyes emerge from the flames. Hermione twisted against her restraints, attempting to loosen their hold before Snape could learn of her capture.
He was a murderer, presumably sitting in the very chair that was once occupied by the man he betrayed. Severus, the new headmaster of Hogwarts, with a bounty for her captivity, would soon learn of her capture by Scabior. She imagined how his thin lips would curl over those yellow teeth when he discovered her location, anticipating the praise that Voldemort would bestow upon the loyal Death Eater.
Snape was a powerful wizard. He would be too cunning to escape, too calculating to fight. A muggle-born like her in the hands of a Death Eater like Snape was an unbearable thought. Hermione's stomach flipped into knots as she stared into the emerald flames.
Minutes dragged by, and Scabior grew impatient. Without a response from the fireplace, Scabior craned his neck into the harmless flames in search of Severus.
Scabior's muffled voice indicated a response from the other side. Hermione and Greyback both strained their ears to hear the conversation, but Scabior's voice echoed indistinguishably through a void of space. After what Hermione assumed to be a retelling of events, Scabior withdrew his head from the fireplace and returned to the dim room.
Flames twisted from the hut's fireplace and a face began to slowly emerge. Hermione's attention jumped from Scabior to the twisted green light. Eventually, a dark set of eyes peered from the flames into the room and fell onto the bound figure in the hut. Hermione would have gasped were her tongue not cemented in place.
Snape's icy glare pierced through the flames and locked on to Hermione's frightened stare. Hermione's chest tightened at the sight of him. Her lungs filled rapidly to meet the demands of her racing heart as fear pierced her core. Indifferent to her reaction, Snape looked back to Scabior and nodded once before his head disappeared back into the emerald flames.
A second later, Snape's form emerged from the fireplace. Flames danced behind him, their color returning to a hot orange. The room fell silent as he straightened to his full imposing height, wand emerging from his immaculate dark robes. He conjured a leather bag from the air, which landed between Greyback and Scabior with a distinctive metallic thud. The bounty. He returned his wand to his robes.
Greyback grinned at Snape, "Pleasure doing business, Severus."
Snape's thin lips did not return a smile. "What of Potter?"
At the sound of her friend's name in his deep voice, Hermione strained once more against her bonds. Snape briefly looked to her bound wrists and the rope dug tighter into her flesh as if by command. She winced. His face revealed not the faintest sign of concern.
It was Scabior who responded. "There was an altercation. Our remaining snatchers stayed to detain the boys while we fled with the girl."
Severus frowned slightly.
His eyes turned smoothly to Fenrir. "Where was this camp?"
Greyback described the details of her capture, explaining how the Taboo curse allowed the friends to be tracked through Voldemort's name. Snape's eyes fell on Hermione in a belittling pause before he spoke with quiet authority to Fenrir. "Perhaps her wand will tell us something about Potter's next whereabouts. Fenrir?"
Fenrir nodded eagerly, withdrew Hermione's wand, and handed it to Severus. Severus spent a second assessing the wand before he muttered a spell, and then a series of charms shot into the air. Hemione recognized them as her shielding charms, conjuring charms, protective spells, and incantations previously used on their camp. The three men observed the sparks for a moment, entranced by the series of charms. Before anyone could anticipate another spell, abrupt chaos succeeded.
Silently, Severus summoned an explosion from Hermione's wand and knocked Greyback into Scabior. Scabior stumbled under the weight of the werewolf and was thrust into the hot, orange flames. A second flick snapped Greyback's head to one side, rendering him unconscious.
A surprised Scabior reached into his burning robe for a wand, but Snape reacted before Scabior could. He sent a freezing spell from Hermione's wand into Scabior's struggling form, petrifying his body downward atop his smoldering robes.
Disregarding Hermione's bound form, Snape made two final flicks at the unconscious figures. She watched his mouth form a single word. "Obliviate."
Hermione lay stunned on the floor, unsure whether her body had betrayed her or if the dark wizard had silently immobilized her. The two bodies of her capturers remained stationary on the stone floor. Only the rise of their shoulders from slow, even respirations indicated that they continued to draw breath.
Snape silently glided to the table. Her eyes watched as his thin, pale fingers returned the leather pouch of coins to his robes without a sound. He slowly turned back to her form and pocketed her wand before withdrawing his own.
Hermione tensed under the threat of his wand. She never noticed its thin, dark appearance so closely, nor did she recognize the deep carvings etched into the handle. Light danced around the blade of the black wood. He held it downward in a firm grip, which accentuated the muscles of his pale forearm. Hermione brushed aside the thought of the Dark Mark branded into his skin.
Without her wand or weapon, she was powerless to this dark figure. His eyes now bore into hers with an intense heat. Snape noted that she was still bound by Scabior's ropes, tongue glued to the top of her mouth.
His imposing figure stood over her stiffened form. He smirked.
"Langlock suits you."
Furry replaced Hermione's fear. Her legs were not bound and for a moment she imagined what reaction she'd elicit if she kicked him. She decided against it.
Snape sneered as if he were reading her thoughts.
"Where is Potter?" He spat the name as he asked.
Hermione's tongue was released. Her throat was dry, and her lips cracked as she responded. "I-I don't know." She whispered truthfully. Snape studied her intently.
Without warning, he pulled her gaze into his and forced himself into her mind. Hermione pushed against the intrusion, but Snape's breach was too strong. Her mind felt like a feeble tree branch against a powerful flood.
A vision was forcefully pulled from her mind: Hermione fetching water for the camp; The instinctual collapse against the reeds at the sight of Greyback; Her fear of disapparating and losing contact with the boys; Harry getting blasted backward by blue light, returning to fight the remaining snatchers.
Unable to release her mind, Hermione instinctually kicked her foot against Snape's left knee. He let out a soft groan.
Her mind was freed from his intrusion, her vision returning to the tiny, damp hut. Snape's eyes narrowed in contempt of the witch. Fear of her outburst's repercussion begun to set in.
"That was exceptionally unwise." He hissed menacingly. He stretched his knee in the air, tightening his lips against the soreness that grew against it.
In response to her kick, a flourish of Snape's wand sent thin, cord-like ropes around Hermione's ankles. His dark eyes reflected the room's orange flames. She was completely bound in front of Dumbledore's murderer, in an unknown place, far from the aid of her friends.
Hermione looked at him, heart pounding.
He studied her soiled robes, her trembling, cold body, and how her bushy eyebrows furled into defiance.
"You are more foolish than I remembered." His expression burned with disdain.
Hermione wasn't sure how to respond.
Snape continued. "You are an impulsive, strong-headed Gryffindor with no wit, unable to control the disordered mess you called a mind." His eyes flicked contemptuously over her form. "Stupidity parted you from your friends, and your lack of planning most certainly ensured a permanent separation." He shook his head sardonically.
Without another word, Severus grabbed the neck of Hermione's robes and lifted her up onto her feet. The binds around her ankles sent her balance off kilter, forcing her chest into Snape as she fell forward. She exhaled in surprise. Unperturbed by their contact, Snape effortlessly pushed her aside, and silently waved his wand to levitate Hermione to a pace above the floor. He carefully positioned himself out of range of another kick.
The dark wizard stepped to the fire where he threw a handful of Floo powder. Once again, the flames turned emerald as he muttered an inaudible place. A flick of his empty hand sent the suspended Hermione through the flames where he followed shortly behind her.
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Unfortunately for Hermione, the levitating incantation did not follow her through the blur of Floo. Her knees smashed onto the stone floor of the new destination, the inertia rolling her onto her back. She clumsily attempted to right herself before Severus emerged, but he coolly stepped out over her, wand in hand.
A wave of his wand released the cords around her ankles and wrists. They promptly vanished. The pain from landing on her knees grew into a tender throb, and instinct forced her hands to brace against the ache of her knees. Snape smirked.
Her wrists were imprinted with the vestiges of Scabior's cords, an erythema forming around where she fought against them. He stood calmly, watching her rub the delicate skin around her wrists. It wasn't the skin she focused on, but the room, her eyes flickering about the unfamiliar space. She apprehensively returned her gaze to his.
"You're at Hogwarts." He stated flatly.
A cautious relief filled Hermione. She looked around the room, searching for clues that would reveal which part of the castle. There were no windows, no paintings, no photographs. Volumes of books lined wall-sized shelves, titles arranged by subject and name. One high-backed chair was positioned behind an immaculate desk. One quill and ink bottle were placed in the corner of the desk. To the right of the desk, a Roman numeral clock was fastened to the wall. Light emanated from a single, floating candelabrum and a gentle flicker from the fireplace. The room was plain, fastidiously organized, and chilled by the presence of his imposing figure.
Hermione didn't trust herself to speak. She shifted uneasily on the floor, unsure whether to remain uncomfortable on the cold stones or to stand against her throbbing knees. A small pot on the mantle caught the corner of her eye. Pretending not to have noticed the Floo pot, Hermione stood on shaky legs. Her soiled robes hung heavily on her shoulders, earning a look of disgust from the former professor.
"Tergeo." Snape pointed his wand at Hermione, and she instinctually flinched away. The layer of grime siphoned off her robes and vanished. She looked back at him, heart pounding.
"You put a bounty on me." She whispered. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or perhaps it was the characteristic Gryffindor courage, Hermione finally spoke.
Severus did not initially respond. His cool eyes gazed into hers, calculating his reply. Her weight shifted uneasily at his gaze, and she swallowed hard.
"Yes." He took one intimidating step forward. Hermione stepped backward, inching closer to the Floo pot.
"I don't know where he is." Hermione didn't have to specify who she meant.
"I know." He took another step in.
Hermione's heart was racing. Snape's figure towered over her small frame, his crown a full head-length above her own.
With one more step, she could close the space between her and the Floo powder. She'd have to be quick to avoid any chance of him reading her thoughts.
"They'll find me." She stated, then lunged for the Floo. Snape was faster. He was calculated. His cold fingers wrapped around her reddened wrist and pinned it against the hearth. She cried out in pain from the sudden crack of bone against rock. Her struggles to free her wrist were met in vain. Snape easily overpowered her attempts to pull away, appearing almost bored by the encounter. The scent of his robes emanated a mingle of cauldron fire, petrichor, and soap. She turned her neck to escape the scent and willed her breathing to slow.
He leaned in coolly. He spoke quietly into her ear, as if what he said were a secret. "A bird in hand ensnares two in the bush." His voice was sultry, and his lips lingered close to her ear for an unnerving moment. She could feel the pull of his breath against her neck. The sensation made her shiver.
Snape pulled himself away as swiftly as he pushed her back.
Hermione's breathing quickened at his cryptic reply. The original muggle idiom sprang in her head as she begun to analyze what he meant. Did he imply that he would risk one advantage for an even larger one? The thought of becoming his lure to betray her friends sent her stomach into knots.
Snape carefully plucked the Floo jar from its mantle place and vanished it from sight. He conjured a chair on the opposite side of the desk and motioned her to sit. He glided casually into the remaining high-backed chair.
"One more of those little outbursts will return you to restraints. Am I clear?" His voice was low. His dark eyes sifted once more to the thin skin around her wrists as if he was entranced by the thought. Hermione could only imagine what shadowy ideas resided behind that stare.
Hermione nodded her head and reluctantly sat in the chair opposite him.
The dark wizard conjured a plain, black teapot and two cups. A delicate cup landed gently in front of each of them. The magical teapot filled each cup with an aromatic blend of spices before settling down at the center of the room's desk. Hermione eyed the amber liquid suspiciously. Her throat was parched, her voice was weak, her tongue was dry. A cup of tea was a welcome drink, but not if it emerged from Snape's wand. Hermione had scarcely enough trust in Snape as the former professor of Potions, even less-so after the betrayal of Dumbledore.
The man behind the desk grabbed his teacup by the rim and took a sip. His cool eyes met hers as if to say, "See?" The young witch tightened her jaw in response, as if to emphasize her decision to refuse it.
He placed the cup down. Snape reached into his robes and pulled out her wand. Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the sight of the light-colored vinewood in his pale fingers. With her wand, he conjured a small glass beside her teacup and said softly, "Aguamenti." Clean water sprang from her wand's tip into the small glass.
The source of this water reassured her. Hermione lifted the glass, sipped, then downed the remaining contents.
"Aguamenti." Snape once again filled the glass from her wand. Hermione accepted water again, downing another glass.
Snape refilled her glass a final time before he returned her wand to his pocket. He cleared his throat, ready to speak. Hermione's neck snapped up in attention.
"I imagine that we can reach a mutual understanding." He started. Hermione was afraid to look in his eyes, so she traced the buttons along his collar, around his jawline, and to the hook of his nose. Dark bristles around his jawline accentuated the paleness of his skin. She swallowed, not sure what to say. Snape continued, "I am looking for Potter." He said the name with venom.
Hermione pointed her chin forward and quickly responded. "I don't know where he is."
Snape patiently listened to what he already knew. "I am aware." He took another sip of tea. "The boy is obstinate, heedless, and arrogant. However, I know that he is fiercely loyal to those who are closest to him." He paused. "He will return for you."
A warm, light swelling rose in Hermione's heart. Hermione felt momentarily reassured.
"The agreement will be simple. Your freedom for your cooperation."
Hermione pressed her lips tightly together. Snape was mistaken if he thought she would ever betray her friends for personal advantage. Snape perhaps thought very little of her if he believed her to trust the man who killed Dumbledore.
His eyes bore into her while he waited for an answer. Hermione purposely avoided the piercing gaze.
"I'm not going to betray Harry." She stated. "Least of all to a traitor like you." The last words were meant to remain a thought, but they slipped out as her emotions overcame reason. The words cut through the air.
Snape reacted with vehemence, swiftly standing upright to leer his face closer to hers. His face was twisted with threatening anger. Hermione caught a flash of bared yellow teeth as he spat in fury. "You speak of things you don't understand, stupid girl."
Hermione stiffened under his anger. The once calm, collected man stood over the desk, his body tensed. The cuff of his sleeve hitched tightly around his forearms; the sinewy muscle revealed under the taut skin. Hermione's eyes fell to his left forearm for a fraction of a second before they darted away.
His breathing shifted from rapid, forceful breaths to slower and deeper ones as he straightened his back. He adjusted the sleeves of his wrist before turning his head to the room's clock. Hermione followed his eyes to the clock that read eleven-forty at night.
Snape reflected for a moment as he recollected his icy demeaner. Finally, he calmly retorted.
"At what age, Miss Granger, are you going to abandon your childish ventures? Continue to trail a reckless Potter into haphazardly planned schemes? How much longer will you run alongside a thick-headed Weasley who is too dim-witted to exist without tremendous effort on your end?"
Hermione bit her lip in silence.
"Follow me."
Wandless, Hermione had no choice.
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Snape led her down an unfamiliar passageway to a winding staircase. Together they descended to a chilly hallway with a single, hardwood door. He waved his wand to open it, and the darkness enveloped his black robes as he entered. Hermione hesitated to follow until he illuminated the room's candles.
Light touched the room. It appeared to be a private living quarter. It was simple, with tones of rich green and silver trim. More books lined the walls, and a firm chair was positioned bedside a lit fireplace. A phonograph rested silently on a table in the corner. There were no windows nor paintings, only shadows that danced across the cool stone walls. Hermione stepped back in fear, beginning to understand.
With no trace of emotion, Snape motioned to the space with the nod of his head.
"You will live here." He paused to let his words sink in. "You will spend your day here unless I accompany you elsewhere. Food and clothes will be brought to you," he waved coolly to another room, "and you will sleep here." The bedroom was visible from Hermione's stance. It fitted a long, king bed draped with a deep green comforter with silvery pillows. A thin book rested on the single bedside table.
A pit formed in her stomach. The quarters were decorated with Slytherin colors. "Where are we?" Hermione asked.
"The Potion Master's quarters." He replied with indifference.
Hermione's revulsion made her feel physically sick. She was to be held captive here.
"But you-"She trailed, confused.
"I reside in the West Tower." He cut her off. "In the Headmaster's room."
Hermione was somewhat relieved. She briefly forgot that he had assumed the role of Headmaster after Dumbledore's death. She should have assumed that he had moved.
She felt uneasy occupying the previous room of Severus Snape. Surely, he had removed his items to make way for the new professor, but the room still lingered with a dark presence. She held back a shiver.
"How long are you keeping me here?" She asked.
Snapes eyes glimmered as they reflected the flames of the room's candles. Hermione imagined those eyes akin to how a devil's eyes would appear. "Until your freedom is earned."
It felt as if a heavy weight was pressed down on her chest.
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Snape swept out of the room, the door magically locking behind him. Hermione waited a few minutes before she tried to force it open, but her attempts were futile.
The room fell eerily silent, the only sound the occasional pop of the fire. Hermione walked around the sitting room, her wool socks gently meeting the soft fiber of a rich green rug underfoot. She was exhausted but too anxious to sleep so she paced. She wondered if the boys had escaped the snatchers. Were they safe? Where would they know to meet her if she escaped?
About thirty minutes after Snape's departure, a tray containing soup and sandwiches apparated on the chairside table. A pitcher of water and a single glass sat beside the sandwiches, refilling itself as Hermione suspiciously poured herself a glass. Her stomach growled. She figured that if she were his captive for long enough, she might as well need her strength. She sat in front of the fire, watching the flames while she ate her first dinner.
Hermione awoke to seven bongs that rang out from the wall's clock. She didn't remember falling asleep and was certainly startled to find herself laying on the soft green fibers of the sitting room rug. The events from the day before flooded into her memory as she peered around her surroundings.
She decided that a shower was in order. The bathroom was stocked with all the essentials, and Hermione spent the greater part of an hour washing, taming her curls, and dressing into the freshly pressed robes. She emerged from the bathroom a clean, dressed witch, and stopped suddenly at the sight of a dark figure sitting in the center of her sitting room, reading the day's newspaper.
Snape looked up. "Miss Granger." His silky voice greeted her. He closed the paper without dropping his gaze from her. Did he deliberately try to catch her off guard?
"Prof…"She trailed, startled, unsure what to call him. He was no longer Professor Snape. "Sir?" She shifted uncomfortably.
"Severus will suffice." He corrected her, unperturbed. His eyes roamed her body. She no longer wore student robes, only the simple dress of an adult witch. Smooth merino wool draped along her modest curves, ending softly at her trim legs. He internally fought the wandering of his mind.
"I would like to discuss some matters over breakfast." He said quietly.
She abhorred the thought. "Do I have a choice?"
Severus's response was emotionless, non-threatening. "Yes. You may eat here, alone if you wish." He stood, readying to leave. "But I have news about your friends-" he finished, "-If you'll indulge me with your morning's company." He quipped.
Hermione's ears perked. "Are they okay?"
Severus raised his eyebrow. "Shall we discuss it outside of these walls?" He presented his hand, palm up to her.
Hermione reluctantly nodded. He was cunning in all things, she thought. His pale hand awaited hers as she made up her mind to gently take it to wherever he might take her. As soon as her skin met his, he grasped her hand firmly and she immediately felt the pull of his disapparation.
The room blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors. Seconds dragged as momentum pulled her form against his. His body was firm. His muscles tensed against Hermione's gentle push as the movement of the disapparation pushed them together. Again, the smell of his robes filled Hermione's breath. The scent provoked images of their first meeting in his office, visions of her being pinned between the hearth and his arresting figure. Her head swam with the image of his lips a mere breath away from her ear.
When their feet touched the ground, Severus gently released her hand but made no motion to step away. Instead, it was Hermione who stepped back, dizzy from the motion and apprehension.
Her eyes closed to quell the sensation of vertigo. Snape watched Hermione with deep interest as he waited for her to overcome the nausea. Her cheeks were rouged by the chilly air. Severus watched as she softly licked her lips against the chapping wind and his mind stirred briefly to carnal thoughts. Messy curls hung past her shoulders and framed the curve of her bust. A cool wind pressed the wool of her new robes against her slender frame, revealing an outline of her soft figure. He considered that, now as an adult, she had grown into a beautiful witch. And she was his captive.
When she opened her eyes, she found that they were no longer on the castle grounds, but outside a stone cottage overgrown with exotic vines. A thin layer of frost coated the cottage. Her forehead creased in reservation.
"The Forbidden Forest." He stated simply, following her reaction. "A rarely used cottage, but useful for shelter when procuring potion ingredients."
She followed him inside through a creaking wooden door. A fire ignited in the fireplace, as if the cottage were aware of a living presence. A wave of his wand cleaned and set a dingey table and another flick apparated a simple breakfast. The black tea kettle from their first meeting poured a cup of black tea in front of each of them, and an aromatic steam rose temptingly against the chill morning air. He muttered a final incantation against the walls of the room, Hermione assumed were obscuring charms to hide their presence.
Snape turned to breakfast and sat down in front of his tea. He took a sip and exhaled a cloud of steam.
Hermione couldn't contain her curiosity. "Where is Harry and Ron?" she asked urgently.
"I do not know their current whereabouts," He replied curtly to the names. "For if I did, I wouldn't need to suffer the tiresome nuisance of your company." His thin cruel lips pursed at the thought. "But a ceaseless streak of luck once again guided their escape."
Severus took another sip of tea, contented by her resumption of silence. "Potter dazed a snatcher and disapparated with Weasley shortly after you were taken. That snatcher later drunkenly recounted the events for a mere forty galleons to an inquisitive Death Eater."
Hermione beamed through his malcontent. Her friends were out of harm's way. She picked up a warm piece of toast and began to nibble. Severus watched her quietly while he spread a thick red jam on his slice of toast. Together, they ate without speaking.
When Snape finished the last of his tea, he reached into his robes and removed Hermione's wand. He calmly placed the wand on the table. Without a second thought, she lunged at it, hoping to out speed him. Instead, her body instantly froze in place by a silent spell.
"Do show a modicum of self-control for once, Granger. Or are you incapable of restraining yourself and require someone else to do it for you?"
Her eyes dragged from the wand to meet his black stare. There was a dark humor in those eyes, but his voice hinted threateningly. Snape's mind flashed back to the image of her initial capture; Hermione completely bound by his Incarcerous. It was a tempting idea to follow and the lure of it sent his eyes back to the delicate skin of her wrists.
Her body unfroze and she returned to her sitting position. She waited for him to speak again. This time, his words were calculated and precise, and left no open meaning.
"The wand returns to you on one condition, and one condition only."
Hermione's heart filled with apprehension and dread. The dark wizard, offering her another deal.
"When the time calls for it, you will return to the Forest of Dean. With me."
Hermione creased her forehead, awaiting an explanation.
Snape continued. "I will release you, and your wand, when Potter is spotted. You have my word that no harm will befall you nor your friends, Potter and Weasley, because of your assistance."
Hermione sat, incredulous at his proposal.
"Or what?"
"I keep your wand. And you remain in those dismal quarters until I say otherwise." He replied with a harsh bite that chilled the air.
"What makes me believe you? What's stopping you from attacking them after using me as your lure?"
Severus sat stoically before responding. "My motivations are not open to discussion. I have no desire to see Potter harmed. I also have no desire to explain myself to a young witch whose mind is as easily cracked as a rotted pumpkin." His mouth curled subtly at her indignation. "Therefore, I offer only one proposal. Help me bring Potter to the Forest of Dean, and I will release you without harm- to yourself or friends. Or remain mulish and return to your chamber in solitary until I've completed my objective without you."
"I have no trust in your promises." She said simply.
Severus inhaled but said nothing in response.
"What's stopping you from capturing Harry after we've found him?" Hermione pried again.
"Apart from loathing his very presence?" He stated simply. "Nothing. But I am agreeable to brewing Promissum Certus, should you wish for a more…binding…agreement." His silky voice added.
Hermione shook her head not understanding.
Snape continued. "A vial of Promissum Certus ensures both parties uphold their end of a promise to the best of their ability. To break the promise would invoke…" He paused, "distressing symptoms… indefinitely." He finished, "Currently there is no known antidote for Promissum Certus, so it would be wise to make a clear, objective agreement."
Hermione fidgeted with the tiny teacup in front of her. She knew that her were extremely limited. Finding her friends in a world of Death Eaters that wished them dead was next to impossible without outside help. It would be even more difficult to do so from an isolated room at Hogwarts that was charmed to prevent her escape. And yet, how could the man sitting opposite from her be a better option? Surely, she couldn't take him at his word not to inflict maleficence once the boys were found. That left her the option to trust the magic of potions- Would Promissum Certus ensure her safety as well as her friends? What sort of promise could he make to her that would ensure Harry and Ron's safety, and guarantee her freedom?
The two of them sat in silence. While Hermione was lost in thought, Severus remained calm and appeared untroubled by the lack of conversation. Occasionally their eyes would meet, and she would hastily avert them to another object in the dining room. She was unnerved by the thought of him reading her thoughts again. Behind them, the fire crackled.
Some time after a single word had been spoken, a thump and a scratch met the kitchen window. Hermione jumped. She could tell from Severus's reaction that the sound was not expected.
He reached into his robes and withdrew his wand. Pointing it at the window, he paced cautiously toward the noise until he could peer through the steamed glass. Hermione's heart was pounding in her ears. Who could've known that they were here? Who could have superseded Snape's obscuring charms?
Her answer came when he flicked the window open with his wand and a black-gray owl clambered through the sill. It looked cautiously to Hermione, then back to Snape. It clicked its beak. Severus accepted a piece of parchment tied to the owl's leg. Hermione observed him as he gently stroked the owl's neck, praising the animal for what was certainly tedious work trying to find them. It was a softness that she had never seen from Snape, uncharacteristically tender for the man.
He turned back to the room. Snape unrolled the parchment and briefly read the contents before throwing it into the fire.
"How very irritating."
He turned back to Hermione, a questioning look etched into his brow.
"What do you know about the break-in to my office?"
Hermione stared at him blankly. "What?" Hermione's puzzlement was replaced by optimism. "Was it Harry?"
"No. Nor Weasley." He said, anticipating her next question. She searched his face for any indication of his mood, but his expression revealed nothing.
"I do hope you reconsider my proposition, Miss Granger. But for now, this conversation has ended. When you return to your room, seek out a book called, Potions of Principles: Fidelity, Justice, and Veracity." Snape plucked a spoon from the table and recited a charm over it with a wave of his wand. Hermione recognized the portkey charm. When he finished, he turned to her and continued, "I trust that you will research Promissum Certus and decide for yourself if an arrangement is agreeable."
Without another word, he levitated the enchanted spoon over Hermione. His eyes met hers before the spoon dropped into her pocket. Wide-eyed, she understood what he had done, but it was too late to object. On contact with the portkey, Hermione was lifted and spun around in a whirlwind of motion and ultimately dropped back onto the green rug of her new room.