Severus stalked through the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, his black cloak billowing from his tall frame.
"Severus!" he heard a strangled cry and stopped abruptly, turning to see the ashen face of Narcissa Malfoy as she stepped out of a side room. Her usually perfectly coiffed hair was dishevelled and her robes in disarray.
"Narcissa," he nodded curtly and turned his attention back towards the drawing room.
Her trembling hands jerkily shot out to grip his arm. "Oh, Severus," she said, "S – so much has happened."
"Where is the Dark Lord?" he asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.
"H – he's already left. He was furious – I …" Her face scrunched up as she began to sob.
"Lucius?" he snapped. He had no patience for tears. He wanted to know what the hell was going on so he could get out of there as quickly as he had arrived.
She pointed a trembling finger to the drawing room. He took off his mask and thrust it into the folds of his cloak. He nodded at her again and headed towards the drawing room.
He pushed the heavy oak door open and let his eyes drink in the scene before him. The chandelier that once hung majestically from the ceiling lay broken over the floor; its shards scattered to the furthest corners of the room. His eyes lingered on the figure of a prone woman, twitching on the floor. Bellatrix, he thought with a smirk. His eyes then fixed on Lucius. He was squatting on the floor, both of his hands clutching his head.
Severus drew himself up and asked in a bored tone, "Exactly what happened here?"
Lucius's wild eyes turned and fixed themselves on him. "Potter."
Severus's insides coiled with apprehension. "Ah," he said.
"Potter was captured and brought here by those blasted Snatchers with that Mudblood of his and Weasley. They had the sword of Gryffindor and Bella lost it as soon as she saw it," he cast a furious glare in Bellatrix's direction, "She didn't call the Dark Lord immediately and tortured the Mudblood. Potter and Weasley escaped. We captured the Mudblood – she's in the dungeon."
"Her name is Granger," said Severus quietly, almost to himself. His carefully schooled features didn't betray the surge of fury he felt at the use of the word Mudblood.
"Yes – yes," Lucius continued impatiently with a wave of his hand, "The Dark Lord arrived and searched the M – I mean, this Granger's mind. Whatever he saw – I don't think I've ever seen him as utterly furious before. He almost killed Bellatrix."
What could he have seen to drive him to kill one of his most loyal servants? thought Severus.
"Did he say what he had seen?"
"No," said Lucius, now leaning back to sit on the floor. "He ordered that you keep the girl safe until he decides what to do."
Safe. Severus knew exactly what that meant with no further explanation necessary. Most of the other Death Eaters were half unhinged thanks to a spell in Azkaban and it would take little to no provocation for them to torture, maim or even kill the girl.
Severus tilted his head slightly to one side. "He means to use her?"
Lucius nodded. He opened his mouth but with the interruption of loud voices in the hallway, he clamped it firmly shut.
Severus turned as Yaxley, Dolohov and Goyle slid into the room.
"Starting the party without us?" asked Dolohov, rubbing his hands together in mock anticipation. He was a tall man, with a mop of soft, dark curls hanging around his ears and a grizzled beard. He could have been described as a handsome man if it hadn't been for his eyes. They glinted maniacally, almost bulging from their sockets. Goyle shuffled his feet and laughed stupidly. He had an ugly, brutish face.
Severus ignored them both. "Yaxley," he nodded to the man with a dour expression who returned the gesture silently.
"Right," said Dolohov, clapping his hands together. "Where's the Mudblood?"
They walked down the stone, circular staircase leading to the dungeons with their wands raised. Lumos lit the dank space, casting eerie shadows in their wake. Severus listened to Lucius explaining the details of the evening carefully. He quietly questioned the wisdom of locking the girl in the dungeon alone when both Potter and Weasley had managed to spring themselves out of there. Even though the wards had now been adjusted to prohibit house elves entering and leaving Malfoy Manor, it still seemed like an unnecessary risk.
"This way," said Lucius as they reached the bottom of the stairs. A rat scurried across the floor, away from the light.
"Who has first dibs?" grinned Dolohov. Goyle laughed again. Severus glanced in their direction – judging by Goyle's vacant expression, he wasn't sure whether he even understood the meaning of the word "dibs".
"Nobody," said Severus, his voice rumbling off the walls as they continued following Lucius deeper into the dungeon.
"Always have to spoil the fun don't you – "
"She's here," said Lucius stopping suddenly. They crowded around Lucius and stared at the small figure beyond the bars. Dolohov almost shuddered in delight.
"Open the door," commanded Severus. Lucius rushed forward and fumbled with the lock and the door swung open.
Severus stooped as he entered. He raised his own wand and light spilled over the petite frame of Hermione Granger, her wrists twisted above her head. Her head snapped up and she squinted.
"Well, well, well … if it isn't the insufferable Miss Granger," he drawled.
He dimmed the light omitted by his wand slightly. "Professor?" she whispered, blinking at him and struggling against her restraints.
"Ten points to Gryffindor," he smirked. Goyle guffawed loudly.
His eyes flitted across her body quickly and lingered on the bruises, gashes and cuts. He noticed the gaping wound on her arm drenched in blood, something crude carved in her skin. A small pool of red blood was gathered beneath it.
"Tut, tut, tut, Miss Granger," said Severus, "I may have to deduct ten points for the uniform violation alone."
Dolohov and Goyle roared with laughter.
"I – I'm sorry, Sir," the girl said, her voice thick, "I was supposed to get Lacewings and then my uniform got lost and then – "
"You're rambling, Miss Granger," he interrupted, "Don't force me to deduct any further points."
"Ohhhh," groaned Dolohov, "I'd like to give her a point." He readjusted the bulge in trousers with a leer.
At these words, Severus swiftly approached her before Dolohov could inch his way forwards. He bent over Hermione and her frown deepened as she stared up at him, befuddled. "Let me sleep," she mumbled. She was shivering, pale and losing consciousness. Severus unclipped his cloak, spread it across her nude body and scooped her into his arms in one fluid movement. He straightened and faced the other men.
"It appears that the girl is suffering from a concussion and will require immediate treatment," he explained. "Is there a room available Lucius?" Of course there's a room available, he thought to himself irritably, the place is a manor.
Lucius glanced around the dungeon. "Can't you treat her here?" he hissed.
"Not unless you would like Miss Granger to die of hypothermia," explained Severus slowly, as if Lucius was hard of understanding. "I'm sure the Dark Lord – "
"Yes, there's a room," interjected Lucius quickly. "Follow me."
They trailed behind Lucius, winding their way back up the stairs slowly. Severus gripped Hermione to his body tightly, the heat radiating off his body slowly began thawing her frozen limbs. The tremors began to ease. "Professor?" she whispered.
"What is it?" said Severus, keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead of him.
"Please don't deduct the points," she said, her words slurring. His arms spasmed until he retightened his grip.
"I won't," he said through gritted teeth.
"Thank you," she sighed, and she rested her head against his firm chest. Severus's jaw tightened. She gazed up at his face as the motion of being carried gently rocked her. His eyes were dark and intense, his jaw strong and the stern expression on his face was bolstered by thin, unsmiling lips. She swallowed, then slowly raised her hand and ran her fingers tentatively through his lank hair. He froze. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. "Exactly what do you think you are doing?" he glared down at her, as she writhed slightly.
"It's so soft. So beautiful and soft…" She lowered her fingers and began tracing them along his jaw -
Severus jolted Hermione in his arms roughly. "Enough!"
"Are you warming her up for me, Snape?" called Dolohov from behind.
"No," ground out Severus, "She is concussed."
"Harry," whispered Ron, "Harry – you've got to snap out of it."
Harry stared out of the window listlessly. Rain was lashing against the thin windowpanes of Shell Cottage relentlessly and the howls of the wind were punctuated by the rumble of thunder in the distance. Harry was perched on the end of one of the beds crammed into the room. His hands were gripping his knees tightly, his knuckles white.
"Come on, mate," Ron urged, licking his lips, "This isn't like you – we've got to do something."
Harry turned his head slightly and then resumed looking out of the window. Without his customary glasses on his face, he looked younger. Vulnerable. He shook his head.
"What is wrong with you?" Ron hissed, "We've got to help Hermione! She's our best friend – she –"
The door creaked open, and Ron turned to glare furiously as a figure with red hair poked her head into the room.
"Ginny?" Ron breathed, "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at Hogwarts."
Ginny Weasley slipped into the room, gently closing the door behind her. She was soaked through, with her fire-red hair plastered to her head and clothes dripping water onto the wooden floor. "Give me your wand, Ronald," she said, crossing her arms and jutting her chin out stubbornly. She was bracing herself for a fight.
"What? Why?" spluttered Ron as he wrapped his fingers around the wand in his back pocket and took half a step backwards.
"Just give it," she snapped, holding out a hand, "I'm not going to hex you."
Ron eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "What did Fred and George do when I returned from Hogwarts after my first year?"
"They put firecrackers in your bed."
Ron threw his wand at her. She caught it deftly and cast Muffliato. She continued muttering spells under her breath as she waved her wand around the room.
"Ginny, what – "
"If you're going to try to make plans to help Hermione or anything else for that matter," Ginny said furiously, "You should have at least silenced the room and locked it! I could hear everything downstairs."
"You should be at Hogwarts. Why are you –"
"Are you stupid, Ronald?" asked Ginny, "As soon as I heard about Hermione, I came straight here. You'll need all the help you can get."
Ron's face crumpled and his shoulders sagged. Every bit of energy he'd mustered seemed to sap out of him at Ginny's words. She was right.
"Harry's not talking. He won't talk to me – we've got this mission, Hermione's gone, and I don't know what to do. I'm all on my own and I – "
Ginny threw her arms around Ron and drew him into a tight hug, catching him by surprise. His arms hung at his side limply as all the stress and anguish of the past few hours poured out of him. Tears pricked his eyes and his throat felt tight.
"It's going to be OK," she whispered, as Ron began crying quietly into her shoulder. "We'll find her."
Ron untangled himself from Ginny's arms and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Yeah?" he sniffed, "What about him?" They both turned towards Harry. He was still staring out the window, seemingly oblivious to their existence.
"Don't worry about him," said Ginny grimly.
When Hermione finally regained consciousness, she felt waves of dull pain radiating through her stiff body. She blinked her eyes open, and the room swam into view. It was small and dimly lit, with a small fire crackling in the corner. She realised she was lying on a sofa and as she raised herself gingerly into a sitting position, the thick robes covering her body slid down exposing her breasts. She gasped and quickly clasped the robes against her body. A chill crept down her spine. What had happened?
A sharp pain shot through her left arm and Hermione let out a soft cry. She raised it to examine it. Despite it being wrapped in thick bandages, blood had oozed through.
It felt as though her heart had lodged itself in her throat – she couldn't bring herself to speak, and fear had temporarily frozen her limbs, paralysing her against the back of the sofa. Hermione's eyes surveyed the dark room against the light of the dying fire – a chair, a small stool, a console table and a door. Her heart leapt and she swallowed hard, struggling to suppress the sheer relief that pierced her.
She instinctively knew she wasn't safe, and her mind and body screamed that she was in danger. I need to get out, she thought as she forced herself to scoot to the edge of the sofa. She held the cloak against her body tighter with trembling hands, trying to regulate her shaky breaths. She planted her feet firmly on the rug and thrust her body up and off the seat. "Ahh," she groaned as her legs almost collapsed beneath her. She placed a hand on the wall and steadied herself. Taking a shuddering breath, she began shuffling towards the door clumsily. She gritted her teeth against the pain gripping her. The door was within reach, and she threw herself against it out of exhaustion. Cold beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. Her hand scrabbled for the doorknob, and she grasped the cold metal firmly and turned it beneath her fingers.
She edged the door open slowly and looked out of the room –
She screamed and tried slamming the door shut. There, framed in the doorway, was none of other than Severus Snape. Cold fury was etched in his face as his hand met the force of the door. He easily pushed it and Hermione toppled backwards, lying sprawled against the floor, the cloak fluttering from her body.
As she heard the door click shut, Hermione scrambled for the cloak on all fours. She tried tugging it towards her, but it wouldn't move. She twisted and pulled at the fabric, but it didn't budge. Snapping out of the fog of panic threatening to overcome her, she realised that a boot was pinning the cloak to the floor. Her eyes travelled from the black boot, up the long trousers, up the coat until she found herself staring into the black eyes of Severus Snape.