Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas which you recognise as being from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series or any other trademarked or copyrighted work. The plot of this story is my own, but I have no intention of making any money from it.

Chapter 13

Hermione Granger liked a good cup of tea. In fact, it was only in tea-making that she indulged her truly obsessive tendencies and endeavoured every time to make the perfect cuppa. Not that she'd ever demean the drink with such an imprecise and menial term, of course.

Hermione didn't drink English Breakfast, considering it pigswill for the uninitiated. No, it had to be Earl Grey, or fruit tea, or Lady Grey in the summer. It also had to be strong and piping hot.

Today was a special occasion, however. It had been a long, hard day, having to deal with irate constituents and idiotic peers alike. Today was definitely a day for Lapsang Souchong. It was definitely a tea for connoisseurs, strong and smoky. Some people said it smelled like salami, but to her it was the scent of relaxation after a particularly trying day.

She was sitting on her settee, the latest BBC drama on the television, about to take her first sip of the mug of this wondrous concoction she had just prepared when the doorbell rang. Repeatedly.

Sighing, she put down the mug on the coffee table and went to answer it.

She opened the door and caught one sight of Severus' face before she felt a sudden assault on her mind. It was like a hammer banging on her temples, a demon tearing her brain apart, like white-hot pokers through her eyes. She had thought she had headaches through occlumency before, but they were nothing, nothing compared to this.

Hermione was vaguely aware that she was screaming, but she couldn't focus on that, not when all her energy was focused on protecting her mind... do not let him in, do not let him in...

Then all at once, it stopped. She collapsed backwards, but felt herself caught by strong arms before she hit the floor. Hermione had a vague sense of someone pouring liquid into her lips, then it all went black.

X

When Hermione awoke, her head was feeling human again. However, when she tried to move, she found herself in a full body bind, seated on the sofa. Severus Snape was sitting in the chair across from her, staring impassively.

Oh god, she thought. It's over. I'm going to die. Rather than betraying that in her gaze, however, she focused on transmitting how much she hated him. Better to go down fighting.

"I'm truly sorry that I had to do that to you. But the Dark Lord has decided that he wants to meet you, and I had to see whether you could stand up to the pain his Occlumentic attacks."

She shivered. "What, so you're handing me over to him now?"

"No. If I just handed you over, we'd both be dead in seconds! I don't know how, but he's found out that you're a witch. He doesn't approve of his death eaters consorting with mudbloods. At least if you were muggle I could just persuade him I was using you for sex."

She goggled. "You're a loyal follower! Why are you 'consorting with me anyway?"

"I note that you now appear to know precisely who I am, including that I am a Death Eater, when only last week you appeared never to have heard of the Dark Lord or his minions."

She glared even more, but could think of nothing to say to that.

"From which I can only conclude that you are part of the 'Resistance' movement, and have been spending time with me on the orders of your leaders, probably Harry Potter and his cronies, and have no real feelings for me at all."

Her glare abated, to be replaced with a blank look.

"Well, any feelings you may or may not have had are immaterial now." He was speaking almost on autopilot. He sounded defeated, almost dead. "I'm going to trust you now, Helena. If that's even your real name. Because I have no choice. The only way that I'm going to get through the next week alive is with your co-operation, when you come with me to the Dark Lord. So I'm going to tell you the truth."

It was at this point that Hermione noticed that there was a pensive on her coffee table.

"I'm not a loyal Death Eater. I have never been one."

Hermione felt her right hand become free, but she still had no control over it. Snape was levitating it towards the pensive. She said nothing – there was nothing to say any more.

Then, the tip of her finger touched the surface of the liquid.

Author's Note:

This is just a short interlude. Apologies if any of you are disappointed by the length, but I think the next chapter will be quite long so I wanted to focus it. The truth will be revealed soon. :)