Another shriek of pain fills my body as every limb electrifies and my nerves squeal. I rocket back and forth for roughly thirty seconds before I master the art of breathing and my heart beat returns to normal. It's over for another ten minutes-ish. It was about eight hours ago when Malfoy inflicted the Unforgivable Curse on me but I am still having the spasms that follow. Night is closing in outside but daytime didn't come to Azkaban anyway. I lie on the flat mattress of the bed with my head resting against a pillow that has lumps and vile owl feathers poking out. I am alone and I daren't go through the fireplace to Grimmauld Place, I don't want Harry to see me in this state. The mattress is stained with my sweat and some droplets of blood that came from my nose, which is scabbed over now. My mind won't stop racing with evil thoughts of how close I was to being raped and then the punishment I had to endure because Malfoy had been deprived of that. The Cruciatus curse when described may sound like a wizarding form of a Muggle beating but it's far worse. I studied it in Hogwarts and, according to this book I read, if I had been subjected to it for two minutes longer my cells would have exploded. I feel like I have reached the pinnacle point where I can no longer endure anymore of the pain so I lie on the bed with the blanket gently covering me. I daren't touch any part of my body in case it sends my nerves into chaos. I don't want to be touched by anyone else ever again.

My ears curse and ring at a high frequency due to the disturbance they receive. The disturbance being the door to my room being swung open and then slammed again. Slowly I turn my strained neck, which is swelled up to twice its size. Snape remains the other side of the room, fixing a drink, gulping it then filling it up again. He takes another tumbler down from the cabinet and fills that up also. Slowly he walks over to me.

"Here, have this. I have used it many times after attacks," he passes me the liquid; it smells of a typically brewed healing potion.

"Thank you," I say, like a grateful child. I still haven't decided whether I trust him or simply despise him. My emotions towards him are fraught after today.

"I will also brew you a sleeping draught, no doubt you need it tonight," he says and then sits down on the edge of the bed. The mattress slopes down from the pressure and I feel myself naturally tilting towards him. "Please understand why I had to let Lucius curse you. It is compulsory for Death Eater's to receive their dose of Unforgivable curses if they disobey the Dark Lord in any possible form. I have endured it many times and it is something I have hardened my heart to. I wasn't going to allow Lucius to take advantage of you though. However, I'm afraid I did so at a price."

"A price? What do you mean?" I say, my voice very coarse and faint.

"What Lucius wants he very often gets. He will be keeping a closer eye on us, getting the house elves to report back to him about our conversations, the potions we have stored and any books or letters lying about," he lowers his tone, "I trust you know not to leave things around here that may reveal anything."

He trusts me? This is the first time he's given me any credit as an adult. I lie down deeper in my pillow and don't even attempt to stop myself from yawning.

"You need sleep, I will begin on that draught," Snape says, lifting himself up and ready to leave me.

"Don't just yet," I say, not understanding why I need his company but I guess even his is better than none, "I've been laid here, just thinking and thinking all afternoon." I can already feel the potion taking effect. A sensation in my bones is telling me that they are strengthening and my muscles relax to their normal movable state. He is a genius, to make the pain go away so easily, I wonder whether this sleeping draught will do the same for my emotional scars.

He reaches out and strokes my hair and forehead and unbelievably I see a small but warm smile appear on his face: "You are the bravest woman I have ever met. I see that being in Gryffindor with those dunderheads did you some good." I look with disbelief but then dismiss the grateful feeling that I am experiencing. Everybody is telling me that I am brave but who's to say it is a virtue?

"What's wrong?" he asks, he notices how distant I am.

I look at him and find this the perfect opportunity to pry into his past ten years, I need to know exactly what kind of man I am trusting: "Tell me about being a Death Eater, what have you had to do?"

He sighs, and makes himself more comfortable on the bed beside me, he has bags hanging down under his eyes and his lined face looks ready for sleep, yet he still opens his mouth ready to explain: "What do you want me to say? Many months are taken up patrolling prison wards, training in the dark arts and brewing endless potions for the Dark Lord. I am the most skilful at potion brewing and so am responsible for all the important ones. Some take me months to perfect, the Dark Lord will just demand: 'Make me a potion that does this!' it doesn't matter whether it is an impossible task. I get others, less important servants, to collect the ingredients for me and often blame it on them when I have purposely mess it up."

I look at him surprised; I would never imagine my old Professor purposely cocking up a potion, not after all the pleasure he used to gain when any of us did. I realise though why he has to do it.

"Did you ever correctly brew a lethal potion?" I ask then drop my eyes down and lower my voice to a whisper, "A potion that could kill?" He draws in breath and looks down at me like how he used to when I was a student. A look of annoyance towards my naivety and ignorance.

"Yes Hermione, I have. If I hadn't then somebody else would have done, but I know that is no excuse in your eyes. For every man I've killed though, I can confidently say there are twenty I have saved. I once put wolf blood instead of lion blood in a potion that made it malfunction; if it had worked an entire Muggle village would have been liquidated. I used to regularly inform the Order of the upcoming attacks also, which until it was dissolved saved many lives."

"How have you managed to do it all right under the Dark Lord's nose?" I question.

"I kept shifting the blame onto others. I always managed to find someone else to blame, it was easy, and the Dark Lord doesn't mind just as long as someone is punished and he can sit and watch another person die. Watching someone be tortured to death is sheer heaven to him."

I quirk my head up: "You mean he comes and observes every torture and execution?" Suddenly the electricity of the Cruciatus curse fills me again and I hurl back down in spasms. Snape holds onto me firmly and rocks me back and forth.

"Okay, your okay," he says, nursing me in his arms, "And yes, that's the only time I see the Dark Lord nowadays, at a public execution. Gladly they're not so frequent anymore, resistance towards him as you know is very discreet. If he gets fed up of waiting he will just order someone to fetch him a Muggle, often a young female, and well you can imagine the rest."

"Yes I can." I shudder at the thought of that being the only possible way of meeting him.

"Don't even think about it, I will not allow you even if you tried," Snape warns, his voice low and thunderous. He pushes my head deeper into his chest and wraps his arms around me. I struggle a little but he is not allowing me an inch of room.

"Who's to say you won't allow it. If it is our only chance of defeating him then I am prepared to do it. Are Death Eaters obliged to attend executions?"

"I'm not answering that, I am not going to feed your plan anymore."

"Why not? Does it really matter to you whether I live or die? I can't see my life as a huge price to pay for what could be the whole of Britain," I say with frustration because he must still see my cause as futile.

"It matters Hermione, for Christ's damned sake it matters!" I give him a puzzling look that forces him to explain: "You're the only woman I've been allowed contact with for the past decade. Have you any slight idea how much I want to protect you? How great it feels just to be around someone?"

I heave away from him, suddenly feeling myself grow too deep into this man who isn't my husband.

"That sounded perverted, didn't it?" he asks, letting go of me thoroughly so that I can run away if I want. I just shake my head and lie back down again, my body is still aching and I know I have nowhere to go even if I want to leave.

"I don't think your sick, I think your human. You just want to reach out to someone and I'm the nearest person," I explain.

"I would rather Harry die than you" he urges, hovering over me with a look of admiration.

"But the prophecy must be fulfilled, we can't just ignore it. He has to be in the center of every plan we have. What if I just bring him in and let the Death Eaters arrest him, then gather up the rest of the Order as resistance?" I urgently suggest, forgetting about the pain in my bones and concentrating more on what needs to be done.

"No, that would be absurd. Every Death Eater would be present if Harry had a public execution, the Order would be greatly out numbered."

"Then how about we change places? We could use a Polyjuice Potion and I could turn into be Harry and…"

"And be executed? No, that isn't an option. Although, getting Harry in by disguise is a good idea," he ponders and then silence falls as I watch him concentrate. My heart is thumping as my mind races through all the possibilities that magic could bring. The Polyjuice Potion idea is a good one, something I thought of in an instant that makes perfect sense. Of course, Harry could transform into me, or anyone else that the Dark Lord wants to capture. My adrenaline rises as I picture the image; Harry is there infront of him, posing as someone else. They'd torture him, because the Dark Lord enjoys that, and I will be there posing as one of his attackers when really I'm making sure Harry can…

Suddenly my body cries out again and I am subject to another brutal attack brought by the tormenting curse of earlier. This one is rougher; it is fuelling on my newly found energies. Each bit of excitement that a second ago was in my body now throbs with agitation. I feel the desire within my body's cells, the desire to break free and out of my body. I swerve out uncontrollably and my head hits the stone floor with a bang. A dull ache follows as I enter a subconscious state.

"Hermione can you hear me?" I hear, what feels like an eternity later. I open my eyes to see swirling waters and murky colours. I wipe my eyes and the image becomes Snape. I sigh, what just happened?

"You knocked yourself out, you silly girl, shouldn't have been over excited about your latest scheme." I feel him lift my legs up and under the blanket, and then plump the flat pillow, doubles them over so that I have twice the thickness and he has none.

"It's just another silly scheme to you, isn't it?" I yawn but look at him wide-eyed with alertness.

"No, but can we talk about it in the morning? This one may work. It takes a month to brew the potion that you speak of anyway, Hermione, and so it's not like we have to jump into a decision."