"I think there is very little I can do to help you, Rabastan. Regrettably, I was never able to help your poor, deranged sister-in-law and she had much in common with you. The only thing I can do to assist, and it would certainly be my great pleasure to assist, is to write a letter of recommendation for you to receive a permanent stay at St. Mungo's. I hear that Gilderoy Lockhart still resides there. How exciting; a famous neighbour! What do you say, Rabastan, do you still desire my help?" Lucius played with his cane as he spoke, desperate to hold onto his authority.

The unsettling smile on Rabastan's face grew and he thoughtfully tapped his lips with a finger. "Always so amusing, my dear friend. I really have missed you, but you are underestimating your own worth. You are useful and you will be helpful… CRUCIO!"

Lucius fell to the floor like a limp rag doll and twitched uncontrollably in the grip of the curse.

Rabastan bared his dirty teeth in a snarl and repeated the action with an unnecessary flourish of his wand. "CRUCIO!"

The prone figure on the floor contorted into a grotesque abomination of a puppet; his hair, so much like that of a storybook princess, spreading out over the warped planks of the floor, his arms and legs twisting as though they were full of broken bones. The pain was so intense he could not even scream aloud, although the sounds of his agony crescendoed inside of his brain.

Rabastan knelt down by Lucius and stroked his long locks of hair. He began to gently trail his fingers through the fine tresses, savoring the silky texture.

Bending close to the ear of the nearly comatose man, he whispered, "There there, my dear. Did that hurt? I don't want to do it again, but I will if I have to. You need to be reasonable. You are lucky to be alive. That you are is because of my generosity and a small amount of sentiment. My weakness, perhaps, and one I don't display often. I've resented you since the day we were pitched into your family. And yet… I've always been fascinated by you."

Lucius was slowly recovering his wits, even as every muscle in his body was beginning to cramp up. The hushed speech took a moment to truly sink in, but when it did, his horror escalated.

Struggling to regain his composure and the ability to speak, his hoarse, faint voice eventually made itself known to the monster causing him so much suffering. "I... hope... the he… help you re-require is not, is not… I'm married, Rabastan!" His laboured breathing interrupted his words but the revulsion behind them was unmistakable.

The skeletal wizard laughed quietly. "Well, that was worth the try, but admittedly, it did seem unlikely for both husband and wife to offer themselves to me in the same week."

Lucius made a weak but fervent attempt to stand. "If you touched Narcissa... I'll... I'll-"

Rabastan roughly pushed him back down onto the ground. "You'll do what? Writhe on the floor a little more for me? Calm yourself, I haven't touched your wife. Women don't interest me, especially not your woman!"

Sprawled in an undignified heap, the damaged, debased man mustered up every ounce of energy and bravery he had left and spat viciously at his tormentor.

The Death Eater simply allowed the spittle to run down his face. His wand arm twitched slightly. Lucius saw the subtle movement and immediately scooted back across the floor, trying to shield himself.

"CRUCIO!"

This time, Lucius found his voice and screamed louder than he thought possible. White-hot knives pierced his skin to the very bone and he felt sure that death could not feel as bad as this.

As the unforgivable died down, he stopped screaming and began whimpering, his body convulsing every few seconds as if electrified.

"Are we done playing, my precious friend? It's hurting me to watch. Maybe I'm more attractive to you now, hmm?"

He caressed a trembling, pale cheek with his thumb, stroking gently over the flawless skin while chuckling at the sight of Lucius' frightened countenance. Abruptly, he growled and scratched along the wizard's face with his long, gnarled nail, digging into and ripping the flesh. Blood dribbled down and snaked to his captive's scalp, staining the blond hair a deep maroon.

"Pleasure and pain, Lucius… Does that work for you?"

Lucius swallowed deeply. "You're... You are perverted."

"Thirty-four years you have known me, and you're just realising that now? Aren't all Death Eaters a little perverted? Are you not? I saw you when we cursed Muggles together, how your face flushed with anticipation."

"It was a mistake! That's not who I am!" The broken man began to cry.

Rabastan straightened up and moved to the other end of the room. "Yes, you're quite right, Lucius. That's not who you are anymore. You are a coward and a traitor, and that is exactly who you are. I'm done playing with you. I despise what you have become and deplore your treachery to the Dark Lord. You have one chance to hold onto your miserable existence. I need you to get me into Hogwarts. If you can provide this service, I will let your wife go. If you fail, I will kill her and you, but I will have fun with it, and I will take my time. What do you say, Lucius?"

Lucius nodded mutely.

"I understand that the vanishing cabinet is at your mansion. The Dark Lord moved it there when he came to power at the Ministry. Is it still residing at your home? Does it still work?"

"I still have it... but its mate was in the Room of Requirement and was surely destroyed by the fiendfyre." His breath was evening out as he gradually recovered his strength.

"Can you find out?" snapped Rabastan.

"Yes."

"If you find it's unusable, do you have any other ways in?" He paced over to help the fallen wizard stand.

"I... have… contacts." Lucius struggled to gain his footing even with the assistance. Rabastan released him suddenly and he staggered, only to freeze like prey catching sight of a predator when he noticed the wand aimed at his chest once again. "No! Please, no... I can't take any more!" he wailed, his composure fleeing completely at the prospect of more torture.

Rabastan showed his foul, yellowed teeth in yet another lecherous smile and uttered, "Nocere menon."

Purple smoke flew out of Lucius' wand, which Rabastan held so casually before he flipped it up end over end, gracefully snatched it out of the air, and then offered the gleaming wooden stick back to its owner.

"Your wand is now useless when directed at me, so don't bother with an attack."

Lucius looked at the wand resting innocently in his palm as if it was contagious with some vile disease.

"Don't worry, traitor, it works with anything else; you just can't threaten me. Get us into the school on the night of the Heroes' Ball and do not betray me. Your wife will be returned if you fulfill this assignment… You may leave."

Not needing to be told twice, Lucius stumbled out of the room, leaving Rabastan staring out of the tiny window at the street scene down below.

"You ready?"

"Not really, but let's go!"

In what was now an overly common occurrence, Harry and Hermione were standing outside Snape's door, debating with one another about who would knock this time.

Hermione closed her eyes and swiftly rapped on the door. There was no answer, nor did the door swing open dramatically in the manner she was accustomed to.

She knocked again and still, no answer was forthcoming from behind the looming barrier before them. Panic began to consume her as horrible visions were conjured up by her imagination, each worst than the last, of her professor dying by his own hand.

Fighting for control of her emotions, she hurriedly explained, "Harry, there's something I didn't tell you about the other night. Professor Snape halfheartedly tried to... erm... kill himself. I stopped him… by force."

"Wow, that's not good. Do you think he's had another go at it? Is that why he's not answering, do you think?" Harry looked absolutely flustered and caught off guard.

"I don't know, but I think we need to go in... Alohomora." Hermione didn't wait for her friend's opinion on this course of action, casting the spell quickly without thinking through the possible consequences.

The door creaked open to reveal the now familiar, shadowy office of their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Hermione glanced around wildly, trying to spot any signs of something out of place.

Harry had cautiously approached the high-backed chair set behind the ornate desk that was the centerpiece of the room. "Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione rushed over to his side and was greeted by the disturbing view of Professor Snape slouched down in the seat with his head lolling forward like a marionette with its strings cut.

"Oh my heavens, is he dead? He can't be dead! Not after everything we've done!" She found herself again balancing on the edge of hysteria.

"Calm down, I haven't even taken his pulse!" Harry snapped at her, his tone sounding anything but calm.

He reached for the wrist hanging limply from the armrest and as his fingers settled around the pulse points, the deathly figure suddenly rose up with a mighty bellow and strong magic lashed out, propelling Harry violently across the room, where he tumbled to the ground.

Both Harry and Hermione shouted "Merlin!" in unison.

Snape stood there breathing heavily with a malicious glare pinned on Harry, and then slammed his hands down on the surface of his desk, causing the two students to flinch.

"No, just Professor Snape. What are you doing in my office without my permission, Potter?" he said in a dangerously soft voice and moved in long strides to tower over the idiot boy.

"Hermione's... here too, sir," Harry responded haltingly, in a feeble attempt to apportion blame.

"Yes, I am aware of that, but I'm getting used to the bushy-haired nuisance bouncing into my office unannounced whenever she bloody well pleases. I was asking you!"

"It's time for our dueling lesson, sir, and… you didn't answer the door."

The volatile wizard hesitated for a moment, and then slid his pocket watch out from an undetectable location in his robes. 'Yea gods, he's actually right… for once. How on earth did I just fall asleep like that?' Snape thought as he glowered down at the disrespectful young man sprawled on the floor.

"I believe I have won the duel, Potter, and I was asleep," he remarked scornfully.

Harry pulled himself together and stood up, dusting off his attire. "Well, in my defence, I thought you were dead!" he said indignantly.

"Indeed? …And why did you think I was dead? Why not the obvious choice? Sleeping, perhaps?" Snape turned slightly to look at a wilting Hermione.

She opened her mouth and shut it again without speaking a word.

"Because you have never been late for anything in your life, and remembering that, mere months ago, you were on death's doorstep, it didn't seem too far of a leap to make, sir," Harry stated promptly, shooting a warning glance at Hermione.

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his prominent nose. "Always lying, Potter. I am not stupid and I know Granger has told you about our… moment."

Hermione blushed and nervously babbled, "Honestly, professor, I just told him outside the door when you didn't answer, and I only said that you had halfheartedly tried to kill yourself and I stopped you by force. That's all; nothing else."

He raised an elegant eyebrow in response, managing to covey endless contempt with a single gesture. "By force? Do you mean by knocking me off my feet with your body weight? Don't flatter yourself!"

Harry watched this interchange with growing surprise. 'What else could there be to tell? Why would he possibly refer to it as ourmoment?' he wondered, staring at his best friend inquiringly.

"If you're too tired to duel, professor, we can just go," he suggested, strongly hoping they would be dismissed.

"I know you can just go, so don't presume to tell me how I feel or what I should do. I will meet you both in the Room of Requirement in ten minutes and may Morgana have mercy on your souls, because I'm treating this as therapy!" He flung the door open and rudely ushered them out.

The pair scuttled off down the hallway as fast as they could.

"Oh dear god, that was awful!" Harry exclaimed, deeply mortified to have witnessed such a scene.

"Do you think he will always treat us like naughty children?" Hermione asked, her expression tinged faintly with sorrow.

"Probably! Even when we're in our fifties, I can't imagine him treating us with anything resembling respect."

Ten minutes later, they were sat uneasily in the Room of Requirement awaiting their fate when Snape swept through the door, and with his customary theatrics, spelled it shut behind him, the loud impact echoing off the walls.

The room was adapted to accommodate a dueling lesson and Harry gazed apprehensively at the small collection of healing potions lined up neatly on a shelf that was set out of the way.

"Who's first?" Snape growled, and then shook his head brusquely. "Never mind that, let's get this over with, both at the same time. Prepare yourselves!"

He ascended onto the dueling platform with a smooth grace that was almost beautiful to behold, while Harry and Hermione stumbled up on the opposing side to challenge him.

Snape gave a curt bow and raised his wand up sharply in front of his face. His opponents managed a poor imitation in return before all three simultaneously began their attack and the bright flash of stunning spells shot across the dais.

'Levicorpus!' The professor focused firmly on the hex in his mind and then directed it towards the one in front of him with the slowest reflexes in an instant.

Harry spun round when he heard Hermione cry out and saw her flip upside-down, dangle from her ankle briefly, and drop to land on heavily on a pile of conveniently placed cushions.

"Stupify!" he yelled and realised his mistake much too late. His spell glanced harmlessly off of Snape's shield and a silent stunner sent him reeling backwards for the second time that day.

Hermione had climbed back on the stage and streams of silver light shot from her wand like arrows, all converging on the dark man, who batted them away as though they were no more substantial than air.

Harry ran towards Snape to continue his assault, this time keeping his mouth shut and thinking fiercely, 'Petrificus to-'

"Finite incantatem!" Snape broke his silence with a commanding roar and the power behind the counter-spell rippled outwards, nullifying his students' magic.

They had a brief chance to recuperate as the enchanted luminosity and smoke dissipated, aware that additional casting would be useless for the next few seconds.

"Back into position," Snape instructed dryly.

As soon as he spoke the words, two curses bounded towards him while he darted to the side and tossed back a firm impediment jinx that stopped them in their tracks.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, this is impossible!" gasped Hermione, fighting to fill her lungs and looking around for the professor, who had vanished.

Back to back, they circled the platform with their wands held at the ready and eyes alert. Tension crept into their postures as the quiet drew on, breached only by their own harsh breathing.

Snape appeared suddenly in front of Hermione.

She cried out in surprise and attempted to retreat, shouting "Tarantallegra!", but she tripped over Harry and struck him with the spell instead.

He immediately went into a frenzied tap-dance and called to her in frustration, "Thanks, Hermione! Real helpful!"

Snape laughed in delight before he could prevent it. The laughter died on his lips when he took note of Hermione's curious glance.

'Petrificus totalus!' he chanted mentally and visualized the curse, quickly aiming at the unprepared girl.

Her arms and legs snapped together and she keeled over backwards, falling off of the edge and landing with a crash on her back, completely missing the pillows. Snape cast a casual finite, an annoyed expression twisting his features, and strode over to the horizontal witch. Harry wobbled over, too.

"Alright, Granger, you were both pitiful, but that will do for today, I think."

Hermione didn't move.

"Bloody hell, she's bleeding again. What is the matter with this girl?" Snape muttered. "Fetch Madam Pomfrey, Potter!"

Harry took one worried look at his injured friend, nodded, and lurched towards the door.

"And try not to break your neck, or the Headmistress will have my head!" he barked after him.

Sighing in exasperation, he kneeled beside the diminutive and apparently fragile form, stomping out even the slightest sliver of sympathy or worry before it could manifest.

She stirred faintly and blearily asked, "Wha... what just happened?"

"You failed to land on the cushions when I hexed you."

"Oh… sorry."

"I hexed you, Granger. You don't have to apologise for being truly awful at evading spells."

Hermione pushed herself to her knees and tried to stand. "Well, that's a departure from the norm. We usually have to apologise on bended knee for every little thing we cannot master in your... Whoa, I think I'm going to be sick!"

"No, you are not. Cease your inane attempt at standing immediately! Spew the contents of your stomach on me and I'll-"

"Curse ...me ...again?" she interrupted between small heaves.

With determined stubbornness, she again struggled to rise to her feet. Heat and dizziness flushed up her body to her head, and she staggered. Snape caught her before she toppled to the ground.

"Madam Pomfrey will be here in a minute. Now, will you stop trying to get up, you silly girl?!"

He slid his arms around her aggressively to pin and hold her tightly, effectively preventing any further movement from the insolent chit. Her head came to rest neatly under his chin.

Hermione started to speak, but Snape cut her off harshly. "Don't throw up and don't talk... Just. Shut. Up."

So she closed her eyes, once more in close proximity to the professor that scared the living daylights out of her, and alarmed reflections on her enjoyment recurred, racing through her overtaxed brain.

Snape was uncomfortably aware that this wasn't a normal situation; a person did not simply end up in the same position multiple times unless, on some level, they wanted to. Her outrageous hair tickled his skin and he looked down at her to see her peaceful, doe-like eyes shut.

'How can she be so relaxed? She should be wetting herself in fear and not lying in my arms like it was a treat for good behaviour! This has to stop!' he thought in panic.

When he began to lose the feeling in his limbs, he lifted her up to move her onto the cushions and away from him while he waited impatiently.

Unable to tolerate the delay for even a moment longer, he reluctantly pulled her close and was about to stand as the door swung open.

"Does that make three times then, Severus?"

Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall had entered the room and were now both staring far too intently at him. He performed a quick search for Potter, but thankfully, the brat was nowhere in sight.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Minerva."

"Oh, drop the clueless act, it has never suited you. That's three times you've been found in each other's arms."

He scowled at his employer and refused to offer any other reaction except for his obvious displeasure.

The bundle in his arms twitched and said, "Four times."

Snape hissed in annoyance.