Chapter 13
Hermione woke to a thankfully empty bed, besides Nagini, and rolled over to spread herself out. She could feel the after-effects from the torture the previous night. It seemed to her like each day was going to have a new horror for her. One day rape, the next torture of another, the next her own torture . . . if this kept going, Hermione wouldn't be able to cope. The marginally peaceful feeling she'd had upon waking was gone, replaced with dread. What would she be forced into today?
She stroked Nagini a few time in greeting, only receiving a hiss that if translated probably meant 'I'm still sleeping, save it for later.' Hermione obeyed the snake's wishes and slid from the bed to face the day.
Hermione may have been free, but she was confusedly still a prisoner. She read in the library, she ate what the house-elves brought her, and she didn't dare leave her room. It took her most of the day to realize it was Wednesday Jan 1st, but once it sunk in she got a little bit saddened. Normally, she'd be home with her parents and making New Years resolutions. She'd be studying for the new semester.
She was painfully aware that she had little to no future. She should probably volunteer to die at the hands of the Order so Voldemort was somewhat more vulnerable. Despite the thought, she couldn't bear to do it. She just wanted to live. And live the life she was supposed to have right now. To be a teenager, to have crushes, to care about her grades . . .
Her grades. Hogwarts.
School was meant to start on Monday. Was she allowed to go? Was she supposed to stay? She was forced to spend every night with Voldemort, but she could now apparate within Hogwarts wards. Surely that meant she could go back, right?
Hermione focused her mind to the place she most wanted to be right now, intent on finding something. She scanned the building. There were some students there for Christmas break. All the staff were still on the grounds. She searched, but she couldn't find Dumbledore. His magic was nowhere near Hogwarts. She thought on McGonagall, seeing if she could find the woman instead. Still nothing. Snape? Gone as well.
Hermione sighed as she realized she had more knowledge than she'd like; they were having an Order meeting. She really shouldn't have been taken by surprise with the fact, as she had released both Ollivander and Draco to them. She knew the prisoners she freed would impact the war, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She had wanted to apparate to Hogwarts and see someone, anyone, that could talk her through the coming years. Anyone.
Her magic picked up on her request. Instead of Hogwarts, where she had been focusing, she was now thinking on Grimmauld Place. Of course! Bellatrix was a Black, after all. The blood wards there still recognized her, but the Fidelius and anti-apparation charms were there now. If Bellatrix had tried to go back, she wouldn't be allowed. Hermione herself couldn't feel the magical signatures within, they were concealed, but Hermione could still feel the wards around it and acknowledgement of her from the Fidelius. Her magic was telling her she was allowed to apparate inside.
Without a second thought, she apparated.
The housing in question accepted her into the wards quickly, flooding her system with a pleasurable magic. It acknowledged her, it took in her need, and it plucked her from its magic to dump her directly into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place . . . and right in the middle of an Order meeting.
Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape – all the people she was looking for – were here. However, so were all the aurors they had. Wands were drawn in an instant, and Hermione flinched back, hitting the wall of the small-ish kitchen.
"Don't!" She screamed.
Her desperation pushed her magic outwards and before she could stop it, it had pushed out a solid shield that knocked the nearest Order members off their feet and back a few metres. That meant Tonks and Remus. People were shouting, each trying to figure out what to do.
Hermione breathed to calm herself. She wasn't here to fight them. She wasn't here to spy. She had just wanted to go back to school, to pretend she wasn't spending each night with the monster who had raped her and used her. She wasn't prepared to now be labelled the enemy.
"SILENCE!" McGonagall had finally calmed the raging room to murmurs. She was walking forward toward her now, a sad look on her face. "Miss Granger, please, we're not going to hurt you. Will you lower the barrier?"
Hermione was tempted to stay shielded, stay protected, but the look on McGonagall's face was enough for her to feel a little bit less like a symbolic leper in the temple. She lowered the shields with a nod. This was what she was here for.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. She was. She had been desperate to find them, so much so that she had risked Voldemort reading her mind for whatever details were present at the meeting. She had just . . . NEEDED someone. "I shouldn't have come."
"You're right, you shouldn't have," Alastor Moody growled, his wand still trained on her. "Last thing we need is Voldemort's pet here."
"Alastor!" McGonagall snapped.
Hermione looked down at the floor. His words were the exact same as Voldemort's; she was his pet. His little project. His prisoner and unwilling slave. Hermione's tears were fighting for release.
"He's right," she croaked, unable to avoid the sound of tears in her throat. "I'm his pet. I shoudn't be here. I just . . ."
The words refused to come out, but the tears did. She refused to meet anyone's eyes and let the tears stream unbidden down her face.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall sighed, coming forward. She was wrapped in her Head of House and happily threw her arms around the woman. The smell of cat, scotch, and floral comforted her greatly. "You're here now, so you will stay. I'm not letting you go back there yet, and nobody is going to force you away."
"I don't have a choice," Hermione sobbed. "If he calls, I have to go."
"Bit like Snape, eh?" Moody accused. "Another little Death Eater."
"Enough!" Dumbledore called everyone's attention. His face was grave. "Miss Granger, you know better than to do this. Your mind is open to his. Until that changes, you cannot be here."
"I'm sorry," Hermione whimpered.
Dumbledore raised his withered hand to stop her. "However, you are here. Perhaps you'd like to tell us why you sought us out?"
Hermione's tears kept flooding. "I was desperate, sir. I'm sorry. I just wanted to speak to you."
"About what, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes sadder now.
Hermione's tears didn't cease. "Am I allowed back at Hogwarts?"
There was a heavy silence on the room. Tonks looked at Hermione incredulously, but the majority of them looked on her with pity. Dumbledore stroked his beard in consideration, but Snape sneered at her.
"After everything that occurred on New Year's, you decide your schooling is what warrants distress?" Snape demanded. "Did the Dark Lord treat you for your torture? I would accuse you of letting it addle your lauded intelligence."
"You were there?" Hermione whispered, trying to remember. She didn't remember seeing him.
He nodded curtly. "I saw what occurred, yes. Had you been anyone else, the Dark Lord would have killed you. Feel fortunate."
Hermione nodded. He was being strangely kind to her. Confusing her. Stroking her hair possessively, insisting she sleep in his bed, attempting to win her over. Snape was right; anyone else, and she'd be dead. But Voldemort favoured her power, valued her. She refused to think of it, instead looking to Dumbledore, who was deep in thought.
"What brought this concern forward, Miss Granger?" the headmaster asked.
"I was thinking of my future this morning," Hermione admitted, ignoring the others. "I don't really have one any more, do I sir? Even when he dies, I'll be bound to a dead man's home, and those of all his followers, won't I?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "There is no way to break through that sort of bond. You may, should you desire, leave the estates, but if you do so for a even a few days they will call you back much like the collar Tom fitted you with. You'll be his until you die, Miss Granger."
"I could still go to Hogwarts," Hermione pleaded. "It's part of the bond. Please, Headmaster Dumbledore. You won't need to house me, I'll be returning to Sayre Mansion every night. I'll stay away from Harry, from Ron, I'll start learning Occlumency . . . Just please let me have a piece of my life back."
She didn't care that they were regarding her in pity. She didn't care that she sounded desperate, because she was. No, she just wanted a fraction of normalcy. She wanted to take classes, overachieve. She wanted it.
"How does Tom feel about this request?" Dumbledore asked gravely.
Hermione shook her head. "He said he didn't care what I do all day, so long as-" Hermione cut herself off. She didn't want to verbalize it.
Still, it seemed as though Dumbledore would not let it be. He motioned her forward with his withered hand, and she stood in front of him in his seat.
"Miss Granger, will you tell me, or are you more comfortable with my seeing it directly?" he inquired politely.
"I don't want to say it," Hermione begged. "Please, HE does it anyways."
Dumbledore nodded gravely, but spared no further moment before plunging into her mind. She watched as he replayed her last two days in detail, as well as the days prior to her magic's reappearance. He lingered on her wand oath, her Animagus transformation, and any information on the Death Eaters. He played the scenes of Voldemort's attentions to her. They made her shudder at both the reminder of his violation and the audience, so he didn't linger as long as some. Finally, with a sigh, he withdrew.
"I can't, in good conscious, deny you your education," Dumbledore told her with grave voice. "But while he already has seen too much in regards to Harry from your mind, you are correct that any further contact with him would be dangerous. In fact, your own safety would be in question around your old house should any of them find out what had happened."
He stroked his beard thoughtfully, searching for a solution.
"Headmaster," Professor Snape murmured, "perhaps my own house . . ?"
Hermione looked to him in shock.
"I could keep them in line for her," Snape offered, "as a service to the Dark Lord. Many of the children would know to treat her with respect without my interference, and the rest fear me enough to know not to test my ire."
"She would still be in classes with Gryffindor, for the most part," Dumbledore frowned, "although perhaps it would be best, so Harry can see her occasionally."
"But students aren't allowed to switch houses," Hermione jumped in. "Are they?"
"I think a one-time exception can be made," Dumbledore said politely. He turned to Snape once again.
Moody interrupted first. "Dumbledore, why are you agreeing to this?" he demanded. "She is a risk. She should not be trained to be a more dangerous weapon in his hands."
"What did you see in her mind, Headmaster?" Kingsley asked.
Dumbledore zeroed back in on Hermione. "Ah, yes, I suppose I must address that. Miss Granger, would you say Tom is working to earn your loyalty?"
"He's demanding it," Hermione admitted. "I wouldn't say he's doing the best job at it."
"Tom has never behaved in this manner," Dumbledore told her, pensively. He regarded Hermione with curious eyes. "From what I saw, Tom is exceptionally eager to possess more than your magic, Miss Granger. He regained his human form?"
Hermione nodded. "I don't know how, but when h-he . . . when h-he bound us . . ."
Professor McGonagall gasped. A few others who weren't around before were confused. They had never thought of him as anything besides the monster Harry described, Hermione realized. She was trying not to remember her proximity to the monster they imagined, the monster Harry had seen.
"Indeed," Dumbledore mused. He nodded to himself. "It is valuable information you have provided, Miss Granger. We did receive word of his regained form from Severus, but to know that it occurred at your binding gives me a great deal of insight into what happened. And, as of right now, you have more consistent contact with Tom than even Severus."
"Dumbledore," Moody growled, wand still extended, "She is a risk."
"Yet, she could be the perfect spy," Dumbledore returned. He looked to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you can, should we need it, be able to tell us the exact location of each Death Eater with the Dark Mark, correct?"
Hermione shook her head.
"It's only if they're on one of the many properties," she tried to explained. "I could explain who was unaccounted for, but not where they were."
"Better than we currently have, Alastor," Dumbledore told him. "However, someone would need to teach her Occlumency. In Slytherin house Severus, you could have time to-"
"She grants You-Know-Who protection!" Moody insisted. "We need her out of the way, not trained more."
Hermione recoiled. She heard McGonagall screech, "Alastor!"
"We do not kill innocents!" Lupin jumped to Hermione's defense, the first thing he'd done all meeting. "And certainly not victims!"
Moody didn't flinch at the reproach, just continued training his wand on Hermione. "This is a war, people. There are casualties."
McGonagall swept Hermione behind her and glared Moody down. Several other Order members jumped into action to train their wands on the Auror. Tonks jumped forward, placing herself in front of Moody herself. There were shouts of outrage, Tonks' words of warning to Moody, etc. But the only silence came from Dumbledore and Snape.
Hermione felt guilty, wanting to live. She never thought that would be a thought she would have. She didn't want to die, but she knew Moody thought she should accept it graciously. Never had she felt more guilty for not being suicidal. In her emotionally vulnerable state, she looked for something to hold onto, to avoid triggering her magic's worst responses. She couldn't look at Moody, or at the people defending her. When she glanced at Dumbledore, he only reminded her of her lack of a future.
Hermione looked at Professor Snape and saw in his eyes a pity she rarely saw. Like he knew exactly what she was going through. It pierced her through and took all her defenses with it. She wilted like a plucked flower. She broke.
She crouched down low and tried to calm her breaths between her legs, but soon the breaths becae sobs and her closed eyes became sobs. The room became more quiet as people focused on her, which made her sob more. She didn't want to be weak. She wanted to be strong.
"Alastor," Dumbledore murmured, his voice low but carrying, "could even you strike her down in this state?"
"Stop," Hermione whimpered. "I d-don't d-deserve pity."
Then, something happened which shocked the room. Severus Snape knelt down next to the girl he'd insulted for years, that was bound to his master, that was friends with the boy he hated but swore to protect, and he comforted her.
"You don't deserve pity," he told her in a low voice, so very few of the Order could hear, "you are correct in that. You do, however, deserve respect. Respect for the difficult position you are in, respect for your feelings, and respect for your person. You will earn even more respect as you fight to gain control, every day, of the situation that keeps you prisoner. Know this, Miss Granger. You deserve to live."
She started breathing normally during his speech, and was now able to see as he looked to the Headmaster. "I must take her and teach her Occlumency. Now."
"Go."
"Miss Granger," Snape murmured, "can you apparate us directly to the Dungeons of Hogwarts?"
Hermione nodded, and extended her hand timidly. He accepted it without hesitation and she pulled him along with her through both sets of wards, through the blood enchantments, through space, until she landed them in the Potion's classroom.
Snape took Hermione and set her on top of one of the desks before turning and collecting a few things from around the classroom. When he returned, he had an armful of books and a glass of alcohol.
"I will allow you to take these books once I am sure you'll be able to hide them from the Dark Lord," Snape told her, setting them next to her hip. He offered her the glass, which she looked at incredulously. "It's not firewhiskey, Miss Granger, just a scotch. You look like you could use it."
Hermione accepted the proffered drink and sipped it, watching her Potion's professor carefully. He was observing her. She gulped down the rest of the drink and gave the glass back with a timid 'thank you', to which he nodded.
"How long until you must return to him, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, sitting on the opposing desk.
"I have to return when dark is the only thing in the sky," Hermione murmured. "My magic tells me. He requires I spend each night in his bed."
She saw Snape briefly close his eyes, as if dispelling her words. She blushed.
"You probably didn't need to know that," Hermione murmured, a bit more than embarrassed.
Snaoe shook his head. "I did, Miss Granger. I apologize for my reaction, but I find this situation . . . most distasteful."
"For him?" she asked. "Or for me?"
"Overall," he told her, placing her scotch glass on the desk behind him. "Miss Granger, I must offer my apologies. I did not save you this fate, and neither did I attempt to ease your situation. That ends now."
"Don't apologize, Professor," Hermione whispered. "You did what you could."
"Not enough," Snape told her. "Still, I find our situations disturbingly similar. If you need advice, or a mentor in this situation-"
"A friend?" Hermione flinched at the expression on Snape's visage from the words that came forward involuntarily. He looked at her with a probing glare. "Sorry, sir. I shouldn't have."
"You have friends still, Miss Granger," Snape reminded her. "No matter the situation."
"But I can't see them," Hermione reminded him with a small grimace. "I can't be their friend, even if they are still mine."
Snape nodded, although you could see the tense of his jaw. "Very well. Should you require a friend you may search me out."
Not skipping a beat, he diverted her gratitude to the topic at hand. "Now, what did Mister Potter tell you about Occlumency?"
Together they worked through the theories of Occlumency, how you could just block the entry or focus the mind to show him exactly what was needed. Hermione was going to build a shield against him.
"I seem to recall Potter teaching your ilk to conjure the Patronus charm," Snape said. "did you manage that feat?"
"Yes sir."
"Show me."
She produced her wand and thought to her happy memory. It seemed even happier now, that her life was so bleak, to think of herself with her friends. Friends she would never see unless she could do this for them. To think of them, at her side, defending her from Malfoy. Them, there when she woke up from being petrified and hugging her. Harry, the DA . . . she raised her wand as the hope and nostalgic happiness filled her and incanted, "Expecto Patronum."
She expected to see her otter there, dancing around the room. Instead, the mist took a moment, as if hesitating, and then drew itself together to create a much calmer image than Hermione expected; it was a turtle. It glided through the air as if through water, contemplative and self-assured. Hermione summoned it in front of her and looked at it. Its eyes were filled with a look one could only describe as ultimately reassuring.
"I take it it changed?" Snape asked, breaking Hermione's concentration and banishing the patronus.
"It used to be an otter," Hermione admitted, her thoughts heavy. "Lighthearted, fun . . . it was nice."
"I daresay lighthearted is not the attitude with which you were taken by the Dark Lord," Snape intoned, rising to his feet. "Miss Granger, the patronus takes the form of that which we most need in the face of our Dementors. You were a child when you first cast your patronus, and it adopted a child's point of view to adversity. Unwavering optimism and happiness. You have experienced dark things, acts that you never believed would occur to you, and so that which you used to cope changed. I would be more concerned if it had remained the same; you have started a new life, and therefore, a new perspective is necessary to survive."
"It was reassurance," Hermione told him. "That's the feeling it gave."
"And it should reassure you," Snape agreed. "You will need it in the times to come.
"Now that we have that underway, the easiest way to defend your mind is similar to a patronus. The invading mind is a dementor, in this example, and in the face of it you need to call forward a memory to protect you. It's a diversion, but you can run the person in circles as much as you wish. For today, when you see the Dark Lord, this is what you must do. Now, prepare your mind for my intrusion."
She went through the first few steps of becoming an occlumens that afternoon. Snape taught her to hide the lessons from Voldemort first, knowing it meant both their hides, and then after she learned to use her mind to divert him. They wouldn't start building her shields until school started, but Hermione was feeling better than she had in days – she had a little bit of privacy again.
So when her hand started to warm, warning her of her oath, she was ready to face Voldemort again. She looked up to Professor Snape with a look he knew.
"You must leave." It wasn't a question.
Hermione nodded. "Can I do this?"
"You taken to it quickly," Snape encouraged her. "That does not mean you need to test it. Lie to him, keep him from looking. THAT is the best defense."
Hermione nodded. "When can I have another lesson?"
"Come to me when I'm brewing," Snape told her. "I trust you're more than able to find me in the castle?"
"Yes, sir."
Snape nodded. "Then find me when I'm in the adjoining room, whenever you can. I need not tell you I'm risking much to teach you this, Miss Granger. I trust you to fight with everything you have should that knowledge be at risk."
"Yes, sir," she bowed her head. "But can I ask why?"
She could have sworn she saw some degree of softness in his expression. "Miss Granger, no one knows more than I what the Dark Lord is like, and what it feels like to be underneath the heel of his boot. While developing your mental shields is of utmost importance to the Order as a matter of security while you're at Hogwarts, what I believe is more important is teaching you how to cope. I daresay you felt guilty for not letting Moody kill you, am I right?"
Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice. His black eyes were understanding.
"There will be days where death is preferable, Miss Granger," Snape informed her, not hiding the truth for an instant. "There will be times when you enjoy your treatment, and the thought that you are becoming everything you fought against will terrify you. But you have every chance of surviving this war, Miss Granger, and our side has a good chance of winning. Believe this, and perhaps it can . . . reassure."
Hermione dove forward and wrapped her arms around her potion professor. "Thank you."
With a squeeze and a deep breath, Hermione dissaparated away to meet her captor.
