…~*~*J*~*~…

She had been staring at it for an indefinite length of time, frozen to the floor as if the slightest movement might make it disappear. The light beyond called to her like a mirage in an endless desert, and she was afraid to see if it was real.

The Professor had left for class this morning as he usually did, but somehow, by some slip of chance, some twist of fate, the door to his bedroom had not clicked shut behind him. Before her beckoned a slender golden line like a break in the chain of hard stone surrounding her. And her rational mind told her that it meant she could leave.

But her irrational mind said that he would be angry. It whispered words in her ear; words like betrayal and punishment and test. And another part of her, somewhere deep in a tiny corner at the back of her mind, asked her if she really would be better off outside. The Professor had kept her prisoner, true, but he had also kept her safe. And for all she knew the world could be a swirl of chaos and pain beyond her protective cage.

And yet, she would not forgive herself for letting this opportunity pass by. She may never again have a chance for escape and she had to seize whatever bone fate had deigned to throw her. And so, slowly, cautiously, she crawled toward the light and peered beyond into the unfamiliar terrain of the Professor's living room. It called to her with a pulsing warm excitement that made her heartbeat quicken and her breathing grow rapid and shallow. She hesitantly placed her palm against the smooth, familiar surface of his door and felt it give as it creaked slowly outward, bombarding her with light.

The brightness was almost too much to bear and Hermione found herself blinking rapidly and shielding her eyes. She slowly rose to her feet and as she stepped into the living room the door closed behind her like the end of a chapter and a draught of clean air fell across her face like a taste of freedom. She closed her eyes and imagined that she was standing in sunlight. But when she opened them again she was no less excited to see unfamiliar furniture and shelves upon shelves of books.

But this was not simply a moment to savor. It was an opportunity for escape. And she had to try whatever she could to get away from this place while the Professor was away. And yet, as much as she knew this to be true and as much as she wanted to leave this horrid prison, she could not work up the courage to approach the dark door on the faraway opposite wall. For an eternity she stared at it before deciding that perhaps it was something to work up to. Maybe if she walked along the walls and admired his books she could reach the door before she knew she was there.

And so she brushed slowly past the rows of beautiful old tomes, caressing them lovingly as she passed with the tips of her fingers. And as she reached the fourth tall bookshelf she couldn't help the thought that she wouldn't so terribly mind this prison. It could take her months to work her way through this veritable library. She even felt a twinge of sadness to say goodbye to the inviting display. But that sentiment did not last for long.

Suddenly the lock clicked and Hermione dropped to her knees in an effort to hide from the Professor as he swung open the door. And terror swelled inside of her at the realization that she was as good as caught.

He swept into the room and straight to the other door without catching sight of her, but Hermione was not foolish enough to see that as a victory. As his hand reached for the doorknob, he hesitated a moment, taking a deep fortifying breath. And then he was gone.

Hermione held her breath for a long moment as she waited for the Professor to notice her absence. And in a moment he burst from the bedroom in a frenzy of billowing robes and threatening anxiety. His fear was tangible as he hurried to the door. But then he hesitated and slowly turned in her direction. And when his eyes met hers, the fury in them seemed to burn into her soul. His movement was one smooth swoop as he closed the distance between them and fell upon her like a hungry beast.

"You dare?" he growled as he gripped her shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. Hermione couldn't breathe. "Attempting escape?" He caught her wrist and ripped her to her feet, dragging her into the bedroom and throwing her against the wall where he proceeded to trap her with his hands. "You cannot leave this place!" That much is clear. "You will stay here for as long as I desire." Desire? "You will not attempt to leave again!" He is afraid. Why is he afraid? "Is that clear?"

Hermione startled. He had not spoken so much to her since she'd asked for the Prophet. She opened her mouth to answer and realized that she hadn't spoken a word for weeks. She considered merely nodding, but decided to answer if only for the opportunity to use her voice. "Yes sir." It came out rough and strained and she could see a ghost of concern in his eyes. But it vanished before she could wonder if it had truly been there at all.

Then suddenly he seemed to realize how close he was to her and released his biting grip. And as he turned away she knew that this confrontation was drawing to a close and soon she would be consumed by silence once more. And so she panicked.

"Why can't you let me go?" she asked him. It was the first thing that came to mind, but as she watched his shoulders tense she questioned the wisdom of turning the conversation this way.

He turned to face her. "Because…" he hesitated, "you belong to me."

"And what do you want with me?" she couldn't help but ask in a voice as weak as a whisper. It was a question that had weighed on her mind for the entirety of her stay, and now was quite possibly the only chance she would ever have to ask it.

"I want…" he began uncertainly, "for you to be silent and do as you are bidden." She blinked up at him, more questions leaping to the forefront of her mind as was her nature. But he cut her off before she could say another word. "Now cease this irritating chatter if you wish to avoid further punishment."

"Yes, Professor," she murmured.

His shoulders tensed. "I am not your professor," he said, and his voice seemed almost sad.

Over the next few days, Hermione caught the Professor staring at her several times with an odd look on his face. She pretended not to notice, but burned with curiosity and no small amount of fear. Finally, nearly a week after her Great Escape—as she had come to think of it—he opened the door to his bedroom and called her to him. "My living room needs cleaning," he told her, stepping aside with no further explanation and raising an eyebrow when she hesitated on the threshold. "Perhaps my words confused you," he scorned. "You are to clean it. Now."

Hermione hurried to obey with an absentminded 'yes, Professor.' The living room was spotless, but she pretended to dust every surface as he settled himself into a rigid wing-backed chair and opened a book across his lap.

"Since it seems that cleaning one room is not enough for you, your duties will be extended to include this one as well." The Professor had a funny way of twisting words to suite his needs. It was fascinating how he managed to make expanding her cage sound like a punishment.

Hermione's mind drifted back to her Potions classes an eternity behind her. Professor Snape had often found ways to deduct points even for correctly answered questions or perfect brews. She had been an especial favorite of his to taunt; probably because she presented him with the most opportunities. 'Insufferable know-it-all,' he had often called her. And she had made no effort to prove him wrong. Potions had been the only class in which she had not repeatedly receive O's on her assignments. But then, Severus Snape was an evil, Gryffindor-hating bastard. Everyone knew that.

Hermione Granger had once found it difficult to keep from blurting out comments in his classroom, but now the challenge presented her was entirely the opposite. For a quarter of an hour she worked up her courage to say something to the dark Professor while he seemed to be in a good humor. Finally, she told herself to just take a big breath and blurt it out as if the war had never happened and she was still standing behind a cauldron with Harry and Ron in the back of the classroom.

"What are you reading, Professor?" He had expressly forbidden her from using that title, but she refused to acknowledge that he was anything other than a teacher to her.

There was a long silence as the Professor slowly turned his face to her, quelling her with the dark expression in his inky eyes. "Speaking out of turn, Granger?" he growled. Hermione couldn't breathe. He hadn't used her real name since before the war. "Some things never change, I see. I may not be able to deduct points from you anymore, but I am sure I can devise some other punishment." His voice was threatening, but she doubted the truth of the words he spoke. He had yet to truly punish her, unless one counted that night.

Hermione forced herself to laugh softly as she returned to her dusting. "Any first year knows how creative you can be with punishment, sir. And I have never doubted it, you may rest assured." In the silence that followed, she was afraid to turn toward the Professor, for fear of what she might see.

Suddenly a hand was twisting in her hair, pulling her head back sharply as another landed firmly on her waist. She gasped in shock as she felt the length of his body close behind her. "You are trying my patience, girl. Are you looking to be punished?"

"N-no, sir," she managed in a frightened voice. She felt more than heard his soft inhale through the nose he had pressed into her hair, and he pulled her hard against him, pressing into her from behind.

She could feel his breath on her ear when he spoke. "Then I suggest you take more care what you do with that pretty little mouth," he growled, his voice deep and dangerous. But he suddenly released her. "Leave me," he commanded, "I prefer to read in peace."

Hermione did not have to be told twice. She scurried around him and dashed to the other room. But as she reached the door, she turned to look back at him once more. And he was still standing where he had been, frozen to the spot, deep in thought. She studied the tense angles of his shoulders and back for a bare instant, wondering if anyone knew who Severus Snape truly was, before shutting the door and resigning herself once again to darkness and silence.

…~*~*J*~*~…

Thank you all so much for your support and encouraging reviews. Your input is appreciated and your comments encourage me to continue with this story. If you are enjoying the way it is going, please let me know! It really makes my day to get reviews from my readers, however brief or simple. Thank you!