Suddenly I feel movement to the side of me. The mattress springs up and then the great weight is lifted off the bed. A thud is heard as his feet hit the ground. I remain still, he probably needs a drink, and I don't want to acknowledge myself as awake. His feet are heard only occasionally; a slight patter on the stone floor. The door opens and a pool of light is allowed in from the corridor, a delicate orange colour that flickers against the grey - candlelight.
"Thanks for seeing me sir. I hope I haven't disturbed your slumber," begs a man on the other side of the door, he sounds child-like with a hint of impatience in his voice.
"What do you want Draco? This better be worth my waking," Snape groans in an almost inaudible tone yet the threatening malice is still present.
"I want you to know," says Draco. Then he stops and makes murmuring sounds, unsure of himself. My blood boils. I've always despised that slimy ferret!
"What is it that you want me to know, Draco?" Snape snaps, his intrigue noticeable but also his tiredness.
"I know about Hermione Granger!" rages Draco, raising his voice with determination.
I open my eyes suddenly, alert to the conversation, but yet remind myself to remain still. If Draco knows then surely Lucius will too, and then that's it, I'll be dead by morning. Snape ushers Draco out of the room. He reluctantly complies. I briefly see his face in the candlelight, contorted with hate, still as pale and meek as before. His physique is lanky; although taller than Snape he's not in the slightest bit intimidating. I inwardly giggle to myself. Lucius' only son has inherited nothing but his father's arrogance but not the persona needed to accompany it. This eases my panic slightly: Snape's smooth and assured movements allow me to assume that he'll find some way to persuade the idiot toward his way of thinking. The door closes and I am left in silence. Quickly I pick myself up out of bed and rummage through my belongings. Underneath the assortment of knickers and socks I find a strange device, a pair of rubber ears attached to a long tube. One of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezers best inventions – the Extendable Ears. I thread them through the small crack in the door and concentrate.
"Wait till father knows you've smuggled that Mudblood into Azkaban. You wont only lose your position in the Inner Circle but your head will be hung up at the front entrance, right next to your hero's!" snarls Malfoy, I can tell he is thoroughly enjoying this.
"I can assure you that is not what will happen," replies Snape in a smooth and assured voice.
"I can! The Dark Lord despises all traitors and we all know you used to be a spy for Dumbledore," retorts Malfoy.
"Did it ever enter your miniscule brain that I was told to hunt down Miss Granger by The Dark Lord himself? And also told to resume my position as a spy within the Order? I've done much work in these past weeks. Much more work than the rest of you feeble lot have done since you joined the ranks. I've not only been able to flush many Order members out of their little hiding places but I've also flushed out Potter as well. Oh – you look a little nervous now young man. Understand this, the Dark Lord is quite satisfied with my current work, very satisfied indeed!"
My heart misses a beat. What if this is Snape telling the truth? I realize that I have absolutely no proof which side he is really on. So far I've trusted him, the most stupid thing I could ever have done.
"Bu-bu-but how come father thinks she's nothing but a prostitute!" objects Draco defiantly.
"Your father has never had a high regard of me because of my apparent allegiance with Dumbledore so I assumed it would be less trouble for myself to simply lie about her identity."
"But she's here, in Azkaban, reporting things to the Order. We'll have them fighting us next," Malfoy's voice was one of panic, "Aurors and people from the old Ministry."
"Hardly, the Order at the moment comprises of a few of Harry's old school friends and old Professor Flitwick. Even you could take them out."
A long silence follows. I can almost see through the door Draco's mind searching for another comeback. A growl is heard as he frustratingly tries to find a reason.
"Satisfied Draco?"
"No I'm not! How is anyone supposed to know whether you're really on our side," he snarls, stamping his foot against the stone floor, which sounds rather amusing through these rubber ears.
"You don't Draco. You lack the ability to grasp anything other than the brutality of the Dark Arts – Blood rituals, beatings, thieving and worse. As a student you never grasped the subtlety behind the more portent of the Dark Arts. To be honest you were nothing more than average at potion making and the only thing you showed an ounce of talent for was the curses your father presumably taught you, most of which failed anyway on the Potter boy."
Snape's voice then lowered once again to deadly wisps of velvet syllables as he spoke: "Whereas I, Draco, am from a different stance than you. I understand that brute force results in nothing but catastrophe whereas cunning and manipulation, given careful time and planning, will eventually result in Miss Granger doing my will."
"You-you-you're sleeping with her?" Draco's voice sounds full of angst and naivety.
"Like I said Draco your brutal tendencies will disallow you from ever becoming more than one of The Dark Lord's cronies. He'll never entrust on you such an important task as he's given me with Miss Granger," then he hesitates, "But just to feed your curiosity, in hope you may leave, no I am not but if I intended to I'm sure I could."
My body shudders through and through. I slump down on the oak door, a wave of nausea filling my brain, swimming around and around. My first instincts are to leave; if I leave quickly enough maybe he won't follow me. If I hide away deep enough maybe he won't find me. I realize though, deep down, that this will not work. I am in too deep; I can't pull away from this without risking everyone else's lives. Snape has access to Grimmauld Place. He can kill the rest of the Order in their sleep and bring Harry to The Dark Lord without much of an effort. Another great lump of emotion fills me, shredding my pride into tiny little pieces. The rest of the Order was right, Snape shouldn't be trusted and Harry should never have left Hogwarts. I have forced them into danger whilst insisting that they were mistaken. Why did I assume I was right? What gave my opinion more prominence than any other persons? I feel a wave of nostalgia hit me, remembering my bossy tendencies as a teenager and my determination to stick by my own beliefs. I am still that narrow-minded know-it-all but now it's proved fatal, people's lives are at risk. My own friend's lives are at risk! And my families! Oh God help me – What have I done?
Still shrunken on the floor I feel the oak door press against my side, like a heavy rod pushing me across the floor. Through blurry tears I see a black boot stand inches away from my face and then a hand reach down and grab something from inside my own clasped hand. I let go of it feebly, sobbing like a child.
"What are these? Please don't tell me you were listening to that conversation," says Snape, using his most silky and seductive voice that could almost be mistaken for kindness.
"Yes I did," I say, then heave myself up off the floor and rise up to standing level. A burst of fury suddenly hits my body. "So you are using me! Why of course you are, no point in supporting the losing team after all. That certainly isn't your style. Subtle Dark Arts aye – is that what you call being a two-faced slimy git? The most laughable thing about it is that you almost had me fooled."
Then, completely ironic and inappropriate to the situation, I actually begin cackling like a cliché witch on Halloween over a bubbling cauldron. Louder and louder my voice transcends, the absurdity filling the room. Snape watches, his mouth agape, dumbfounded by what he is witnessing.
"Please Hermione clam yourself before you begin to attract attention. Do you want our plans to be discovered?" he grabs hold of me, trying to clamp my mouth shut whilst squeezing my upper left arm tightly until I feel it begin to numb with pain.
"No!" I scream loudly, "I want your plan to be destroyed. I've figured that I'm going to die anyway so what's it matter what happens after? See if I care whether Harry dies and Voldemort takes over the world." A wave of fear instantly runs through my own body as I mention the name. It is like my physical self is being punished for the wrath of my spirit.
"This isn't you Hermione. You do care. You care more than anyone else in the world. You're the bravest most honorable witch of your time – you know that. I don't need to flatter you! Do you honestly think I'd be foolish enough to bring you here if I really was supporting the other side? Not when I know you have the ability to destroy this entire place single handedly."
I protest, laughing still and shaking my head violently: "You think I have the ability? I couldn't actually kill a fly on the wall and you know that. I've nothing more than the wand I own. You're the one with all the knowledge of the Dark Arts, all those spells and potions in that old book of yours. Do you remember that? What did you call yourself again? The Half-Blood Prince! Ha – I remember. You were Harry's protagonist for an entire year until he found out your true identity. Nobody trusted you after that so why the hell did I begin trusting you again? Foolish foolish Hermione, so Gryffindor of me, always looking for good in people."
We stare at each other for long moments, each wanting to lash out but not quite knowing how. Eventually it's me who breaks the tension: I turn around; press my head against the wall and try to stop myself from crying. I feel him move closer to me, he places his hands on my shoulders, massaging one finger just underneath my right shoulder blade. Somehow it calms me, my muscles become less tense and I raise my head from the cold stone of the wall.
"Why don't we for a minute stop arguing about whether or not I am evil and whether or not you are brave? They are two highly controversial issues that I don't think will be resolved until the end of this war. Although I know it appears that the former is an undeniable fact and the latter has already been proved by your recent actions. Please Hermione, I won't rest again tonight until we have resolved this dispute and we both know how to carry on."
"Carry on? I don't think I want to do that anymore. I don't trust you. We have nothing else to talk about." I move away from him and toward the fireplace. I pick up some of the Floo powder in my hand, feeling the small granules of grain. I want to leave. I don't want to leave. Why am I like this?
Slowly, so slow in fact that I barely see him moving, Snape approaches and picks up my tender hand. He gently pries open my fingers and tips the Floo powder onto the floor. I watch it drop silently, only a trickle falling at a time, giving small glimmers of light in the gray room. I keep watching, some of the powder falling on my cloak and some on his. Eventually the last grain leaves my palm. I look up at him once again.
"I don't think you will leave Hermione. I think you will stay until all this is over even if I am evil," he says, his lips close to mine, "I don't think you will leave even if you know for certain that I am evil."
"You'll betray me," I reply, wanting to move away but somehow finding myself stationary. In the darkness his features are barely distinguishable and other than a flash of his white teeth, occasionally reflected by the moonlight, he is nothing but a silhouette.
"Will I?" he asks, "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because that's what the Dark Lord has instructed. Or is it that you want to convert me?" I question, the idea having only just dawned on me with great realization.
"Very smart Miss Granger, you are correct, the Dark Lord's instructions were for me to convert you. He sees you as a great asset to his ranks and a great tool to gaining power in the Muggle world."
I stand shocked for a second, my mind quivering with fear but my body not moving an inch.
"You mean to say you have every intention of turning me evil?" I ask eventually.
"Possibly. I would like to teach you things, Occlumancy for example, and other disciplines not available at Hogwarts. Would you like that?" he says, and I see the glittering white of his teeth form a sneering smile.
Furiously I smack him harsh across the face. My hand throbs from the instant collision and my mind races with the impulse to do it again. He recovers almost instantly and carries on boring his dark eyes into mine. A strange part of me is curious toward these disciplines he wants me to learn. My life so far has been a hunger for more knowledge. My Hogwarts existence was spent in the restricted section of the library. This dark side of me, that before now I vaguely acknowledged as existing, is creeping out with force. What are these subtle arts that he knows and I'm capable of learning? They could protect me and my family and my friends. I stand more of a chance against the Dark Arts if I am atoned with them. Is this what it all comes down to? Is it not enough to become a Death Eater by name? Do I also have to become a Death Eater by nature? It dawns upon me that this is what I'm required to do. Just pretending is not enough anymore. Of course, it wouldn't matter whether Snape is good or bad because I would be stuck between the two sides myself.
I look back at him. I believe he has just accessed my mind and so perfectly understands my thoughts. He looks at me with satisfaction, like he's accomplished something at long last. I don't say anything. He can speak first.
But he doesn't. He continues to stare at me with no intention of moving. I let out a meek gasp for air and as I do he sweeps me up off the ground and carries me, with a savagely hungry stride, toward the bed. In that moment I realiSe that my decision has been made.
