Author's Note
Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!
Sorry, no lemons in this chapter. The next chapter has a good one though, promise! Also, someone asked if this will have a HEA, and the answer is… YES! Haha, it is a slow burn in terms of love (very reluctantly on Snape's part) but it will happen eventually :)
Any dialogue you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Most is changed at least a bit though to fit right.
I'm not J. K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.
Ch 9: Divided
"Having fun this semester, Mudblood?" Crabbe grunted by her ear, tendrils of his foul breath wafting around her to unfortunately fill her nostrils with the stench of old onions and garlic from the breakfast casserole he'd eaten that morning.
Jerking away, Hermione spun around, glaring at the dimwitted prat. "Don't –"
"What are you going to do about it, huh?" he taunted, getting in her face, and using his superior height to lumber over her. "Can't tell any teachers or I'll tell them what, or who, you've been up to."
Crabbe laughed loudly at the idea, grinning in an overly excited way that chilled her to the bone.
"You're not worth my time," she huffed, determined to ignore him. Bullies were all the same, attention-seeking, insecure brats. If they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they'd lose interest.
At least she hoped that would happen here. It was a risk for sure. But she refused to give Vincent Crabbe the satisfaction of seeing her afraid or groveling for a favor from the likes of him. He wasn't worth it.
"Watch it," he warned, lips distorting into a grotesque grimace that made him like twice as mean. "The Dark Lord doesn't know about any of this yet, but I could have my father tell him."
Hermione felt as the blood drained from her face, dread freezing her to the spot and making her sway dizzily.
Was that true? Did Voldemort not know what his Death Eaters had gotten up to over the Christmas Hols? What would he do if he discovered it? Surely he'd find some way to use the knowledge to his advantage and manipulate Harry with it.
"That's not a bad idea. Maybe I should, then Professor Snape can bring you along for a show… You might be a dirty little swot, but I wouldn't mind seeing what's under all those robes. Give us a peek now, and I might consider waiting a bit."
A peek? Was he serious? The very idea was abhorrent. Never, not for any reason, would she consider doing any such thing! Not to mention the timing of it. They were in the middle of the Great Hall! All of the sixth years were about. Not to mention the various Ministry officials and teachers.
"Unfortunately, Crabbe, you wouldn't be invited even if he did," Malfoy pointed out, stepping into sight beside his hulking friend. "Besides, I've already seen a demonstration. It wasn't anything special."
Humiliation warred with fury, each duking it out within her. Hermione despised that Malfoy believed he'd witnessed their professor violating her in such a horrible fashion.
"Like the one your father gave?" she said hotly, shooting daggers of pure hatred at the boys.
"Don't talk about my father, Mudblood," Malfoy hissed, baring his teeth menacingly.
"What's wrong, Malfoy? Don't want your stupid friend to know about how your father raped that Muggle woman?" Hermione countered baldly, highlighting the man's actions. She shown a light directly upon them, refusing to let them remain hidden.
"What's wrong with that?" Crabbe asked, frowning in obvious confusion. "He was putting her in her place – serving her betters. I can't wait until that's me."
"You're disgusting," she hissed, shuddering at the very thought of Crabbe aspiring to do such depraved acts.
Imagine that being an actual goal in life… It was… Well, a summation of everything wrong with the old purebloods in wizarding Britain.
"You can't join unless we can figure out our little problem," Malfoy reminded his friend, ignoring her outrage.
Students were moving closer, watching them in eager anticipation for one of their entertaining fights. Unwilling to risk having their conversation overheard, Hermione slipped away to join Harry since Ron wasn't with him.
Reaching Harry's side, Hermione glanced back in time to see Malfoy still speaking intently to Crabbe. It looked like he was scolding a misbehaving pitbull. Hermione's inattention caught Harry's notice when she failed to answer some question he posed, and he followed her line of sight.
"What do you think that's about?" Harry wondered, leaning forward as though hoping to gather some insight despite the distance separating them.
"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" Professor McGonagall yelled, causing the pale boy to flush brilliantly.
"I'm going to check it out," Harry announced, vanishing before the words were fully out of his mouth.
"What – Harry, no!" Hermione cried, trying to chase after him. Except her fellow students pressed in, entirely eliminating any space with which to follow in his wake. "Wait!" she called, but he was already gone, weaving through the crowd with the ease of the serpents he could speak to.
Hermione pushed against Terry Boot, the closest student, hoping she could get around him to grab Harry's collar and haul him back, but he and Padma were too deep in conversation to understand her intentions or move quickly enough.
A sudden realization gave her pause, bringing her up short when Terry finally stopped talking long enough to shift aside. Would seeing her with Harry prompt either Malfoy or Crabbe to hint at what was occurring between herself and Snape?
The possibility was too great to risk.
Frantically, Hermione tried to catch Snape's eye. When he finally looked at her, he shook his head minutely, warning her that it wasn't the time and she had to control herself if she was experiencing symptoms of the spell. Impatiently, Hermione gestured to where Harry was now conversing with Malfoy.
Snape reacted immediately, gaining the other heads of houses, and in unison, they called, "Quiet!"
Silence descended on the room as sudden and finite as she imagined the theater had been upon the curtain falling at the conclusion of Romeo and Juliet on the very first opening night.
"Thank you. Now then, the important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's! Destination, Determination, Deliberation!" the ancient Ministry official, Wilkie Twycross announced with very little genuine enthusiasm for all he was shouting. Then, with a wave of his wand, he'd conjured wooden hoops on the floor just before each student in the room.
The next few hours were torture for her. Hermione was worried about what Harry might have overheard. Her mind was so preoccupied that she completely failed at Apparating. Failure was not an outcome she was used to.
Blast and damn the wizened old man! He droned on and on about the three D's, but Hermione wished he would just take them and shove them up his arse for all the good those deceptively simple directives were doing her. As if they were any real sort of instructions!
Of course, it didn't help that she was far too distracted for any sort of real deliberation on her part.
What would happen if Voldemort did learn what Lucius had done to her and Snape. It still shocked her that he was unaware. Did he really not care what his followers did in his name so long as they made themselves available to serve him when needed? Could they do whatever they wanted, and get praised for it, if they also carried out his orders fully and without delay?
The idea of Voldemort being in charge of the wizarding world was suddenly an even more alarming prospect than it had been previously. That sort of mindset was bordering on anarchy. It would be chaos. Not to mention that societies that placed an emphasis on hedonistic desires often weren't around for very long once they did.
Absently, Hermione tried to Apparate for the fourth time along with the rest of her classmates, but was as unsuccessful then as she'd been on her previous attempts thanks in large part to her divided focus. Susan, however, managed to Splinch herself trying, and it was enough to tear herself from her reprieve.
"Figured Granger would be the first," Terry muttered to a fellow Ravenclaw nearby.
"Me too," a girl replied, equally quiet, though Hermione heard them all the same.
The whispering left her feeling unsettled and inadequate. The feelings were compounded when her Head of House tsked at her after Susan was set to rights.
"Miss Granger, you must concentrate," Professor McGonagall advised, shaking her head disapprovingly before moving on.
Concentrate. Ha! As if it were so easy when Crabbe was holding the threat of exposing her, literally, to Voldemort.
And what if Harry heard them discussing the idea?
Surly, if he'd heard, he'd have blown up or made a scene. Restraint was not a quality Harry was known for when Slytherins were involved.
The sight of Professor Flitwick's disappointed frown as he watched her forced her to at least try to focus on the empty hoop at her feet and try to Apparate again. All of her professors were sneaking peeks at her, with the notable exception of Snape. They all expected her to be a natural at this, and be the first to succeed as they had become accustomed to her doing in class.
She was nearly as disappointed in herself as they were when it didn't happen. Even once she was determined to focus and try, putting all thoughts of Malfoy and Crabbe from her mind.
Eventually, and not a moment too soon, the frustrating lesson came to an end. Hermione searched for Harry in the crowd, desperate to learn what he'd overheard, but she couldn't find him. Worse, he was nowhere to be found when she returned to the Gryffindor Tower.
Part of her was contemplating checking the boys dormitory, despite seeing Lavender with Parvati, a sure indicator that Ron was currently with Harry. Then the coin in her pocket heated, a clear indicator that Snape had messaged for her to come to him. Eagerly, she checked the coin, already feeling a swarm of fluttering butterflies take up residence in her belly quite apart from the effects of the spell.
It was getting easier to differentiate between when the spell was making her lust after Snape and when she felt that way all on her own. That ease was tempered with the dismay she felt upon realizing just how frequently she wished for the spell to start up and give her an excuse to seek him out.
The coin read, '10. Tonight.'
That was hours away. Why wait when it was a Saturday? Most of the students were hold up in their common rooms since it was so wet and gloomy outside. No one wished to risk getting swept out in the Black Lake by risking a walk through the flooded grounds. She could easily slip out to meet him immediately if he needed her. Though perhaps he had duties to attend to and that was the soonest he could make time.
Regardless, she was impatient for the hours to pass.
It wasn't until dinner that she saw Harry again and was able to question him, hardly believing she'd almost forgotten the need to once she'd begun looking forward to what else awaited her that day.
"How'd your lesson go?" she asked, deliberately keeping her voice neutral.
"Fine, but listen –" Harry began, speaking animatedly. Hermione bit back a smile at his predictability. "Malfoy was asking Crabbe to be a lookout for him."
A tremendous amount of relief overwhelmed her that Malfoy and Crabbe had not still been discussing her when Harry approached them. The need for a lookout must have been what Malfoy meant right before she'd left. But a lookout for what? What was he up to now?
"You know what that means, don't you?" Harry asked intensely, emerald gaze fixed determinedly on her.
"That you think he's plotting some devious act or another?" Hermione tried, forcing her tone to convey doubt, despite being equally as curious herself.
"He is, Hermione! Voldemort has him working on something here in the castle," Harry insisted, punching the palm of one hand with his fist.
"That doesn't make any sense, Harry," Hermione tried, attempting to talk him down or dissuade him. "Malfoy is a student. What could he possibly contribute?"
"I want to find where he's going," Harry said suddenly, ignoring her question since it didn't fit in with his rationale.
Hermione pursed her lips, unsure which approach would be best as Harry dug about in his bag. When he pulled out the Marauder's Map, she paled, horror washing over her. If Harry noticed her with Snape on there…
"You're going to spy on him?" she asked, the strained tone of her voice causing him to glance up at her curiously.
"He's up to something, Hermione. If I can figure it out, Dumbledore will have to believe me," Harry said, dismissing his concerns about her and chalking up her dismay to her disbelief, "you will as well."
When she got to Snape's rooms a little later, Hermione half expected to be taken against the door again. The idea of him being so impatient to have her that he couldn't even wait for her to properly enter the room had been surprisingly delicious. It made her feel desirous and beautiful – even if he only wanted her because of a spell.
But it seemed she was in for a disappointment this time, because instead of being greeted with seeking hands and hard muscles, he demanded in a harsh tone, "What did Potter hear?"
Oh. He was worried about discovery. The spell was still dormant. How… maddeningly unfortunate.
"Malfoy is using Crabbe to help him with something. He didn't hear what," Hermione said, watching him carefully for any sort of reaction to the news. There was nothing. His face remained arranged in an expression of bland neutrality, with no more concern than he might show upon learning that it was raining out.
"Good."
"Do you know?" she asked, unable to help herself.
She hated not being let in on a secret or unraveling a mystery. It was part of why she was so determined to discover the source of the Half-blood Prince. The thought caused the sensation of a feather tickling at her brain to momentarily disrupt her thoughts. She just knew she was missing something obvious where the person's identity was concerned.
"Yes." The single word was clipped, and left no room for questions.
"And it's none of my business," Hermione guessed.
"You're finally catching on. Took you long enough," Snape said dryly.
"Funny," she sassed, biting back a snort as she realized he was displaying a bit of humor at her expense.
His approval of her joking rather than snapping was easy to see. Snape even went so far as to invite her to sit with a silent hand gesture.
"Crabbe threatened to tell You-Know-Who about the spell on us," Hermione warned, teeth catching her bottom lip to worry it as she considered what that could mean for them.
A calculating gleam shone from the depths of Snape's onyx eyes. She could almost see the way a dozen different scenarios played themselves out for him to analyze.
"Do you really think he'd tell him?" Hermione finally asked, wanting to prepare herself for the possibility. At least as much as she was able to.
"I honestly couldn't say," he said after a lengthy pause, and sounding more troubled by the idea than she would have liked.
"I was surprised to discover he didn't already know," Hermione admitted.
"Were you?" he asked mildly. Hermione couldn't gauge if he found her acknowledgment naive or not.
"I assumed one of the Malfoys would have bragged about it," she explained.
"Lucius has learned to display a measure of caution since the incident with the diary a few years back. He wants to wait until he is sure his actions won't displease the Dark Lord or until our arrangement can benefit him in some way. At the moment, it doesn't, so we are safe," Snape said darkly, scowling at the idea of being a pawn in another's game.
"And Crabbe? Will he remain silent?"
"He does not have the Dark Lord's ear, and…," Snape said, pausing uncertainly before he finished, "I believe Draco will continue to manage him."
"You're not sure if Draco Malfoy will be a problem," she guessed. Slowly, she was learning to read the enigmatic man. It was difficult, and she most certainly wasn't very good at it yet, but there were small tells in his posture or minute ticks in his facial expressions that hinted at the truth of his thoughts.
"No, I am not," he confessed baldly. "He is not taking my counsel or confiding in me… He is unpredictable of late."
"The necklace?" Hermione mused, studying Snape closely, and discovering that she'd guessed correctly from the sharp look he pinned her with. "Now that I have more of the facts, the clues were easy to put together."
Katie was still in St. Mungo's, missing over half of her final year at Hogwarts, because of the cursed jewelry. What had Malfoy been thinking to try such a clumsy means of smuggling in a Dark Object? And what would he have done with it if he'd succeeded?
"The Dark Lord gave Draco a mission," Snape said, surprising her with a rare show of sharing more information with her than was absolutely necessary.
"And Professor Dumbledore wants you to help him with it," she said tentatively, putting the few pieces she had together to form a picture she could interpret.
"Yes," he agreed, nodding solemnly. "To ensure he succeeds, and that I carry it out for him."
"Oh. It's about his death," Hermione guessed, finally understanding.
"Indeed," he drawled, lips curling in distaste.
A million questions knocked against the edges of her brain. How was he going to do it? Why was it so important that Snape do it instead of Malfoy? Had they already picked the time? Or the place? Why did Malfoy attempt the necklace if there was another way?
Yet the tension in Snape's shoulders warned her of the futility in asking any of them.
"What would happen if you were asked to bring me before You-Know-Who?" she ventured instead, fearing the answer, but needing to know regardless.
"It would not end well," he said frankly.
"Would I be expected to…"
Hermione couldn't bring herself to verbalize what Crabbe had implied. That they'd put on a show for the Death Eaters' amusement. Several already believed they'd witnessed that very thing in London. Perhaps they'd be satisfied with a repeat of something similar if he ever did have to bring her before his comrades.
If they did, would Voldemort watch as well? Would Harry be able to see it through their connection? The very idea left her queasy.
"I would hurt you, and allow them to do worse to you afterwards," Snape said darkly, thunderclouds passing over his brooding face.
The whole room seemed to darken as well, the air thinning until she struggled to inhale enough oxygen not to choke. When Snape turned his intense gaze on her, Hermione became positive that the dark pools had become quicksand. She was trapped, slowly sinking as sand filled her lungs, scraping her throat raw in the process.
The idea of being passed around…
The fate of the unnamed Muggle woman would be a blessing compared to what hers would be in that situation. They'd all want the chance to make her suffer. To punish the Muggle-born who had the audacity to consistently show up their pureblood children. She was a constant reminder that their long-held beliefs – the whole reason that their society was at war – were utter shite.
"Either that, or they discover my loyalties," Snape added meaningfully.
He was a spy. He didn't get to make self-serving decisions. All bets were off where his morales were concerned – as their relationship clearly demonstrated. Always, the mission came first. It had to be preserved at all costs.
They stared at one another. Raspily, the gravel lodging the words in her chest and distorting them, she asked, "Are you trying to scare me?"
"You have shown a degree of maturity that I had not expected you to possess these last weeks. I believe you can handle the truth, so that is what I have given you. If you wish for me to lay out in excruciating detail what you would experience, I can…though I'd rather not."
"Are you looking for my permission to do that if it becomes necessary?" she asked, trying to hide how pleased his praise made her. It was easier than expected given how the topic of their discussion diluted her joy significantly.
"I do not require any such thing from you," he sneered, baring his crooked, slightly yellowed teeth in an offended grimace.
Memories of how he'd managed to avoid actually harming her in London and how he'd waited after their binding until he had her express permission made her doubt what he was saying.
What did it mean?
It was a hollow treat, that's what.
"You'd refuse," she stated confidently.
"Doing so would see us both tortured and killed," he countered.
"No. You'd refuse to take me, point blank," Hermione said slowly, scanning his face for any sign that what she'd concluded was wrong.
"You do not know me, Granger. Do not pretend to understand my motives or predict my actions. I am a Slytherin, and Slytherins are ambitious and self-serving," Snape said sternly, his lips tightening at the corners until they nearly disappeared as he laid out his argument.
"Yet you serve two masters, putting each of their needs before your own," Hermione reminded, while silently adding, 'And now mine as well.'
Somehow he read her internal thoughts as though they were branded boldly across her forehead.
"I am not a dark hero out of a storybook. Don't credit me with good deeds that I am incapable of enacting," Snape warned, biting the words off, and sounding angry that he even needed to say them aloud in the first place.
Hermione wasn't sure why he wanted her to think so poorly of him, or if it was more that he wished for her feelings to echo his own. Because she was slowly starting to believe that Snape hated himself for some inexplicable reason. The evidence was gradually piling up like so much rubbish on trash day. Possibly, though, it was to remind her of the warning he'd given previously, not to confuse lust with love.
Whatever it was, she didn't buy it. Snape was a hero. He risked his life to do right, with no acknowledgement or recognition. That was the very definition of a hero in her mind.
Byron would have had a field day writing about him.
Unconsciously, Hermione reached out to place her hand over the one he'd tightly fisted.
She wasn't sure what she planned to say, but it was promptly forgotten when he retracted his hands, breaking the contact as he said, "Do not forget that prolonged contact triggers the spell."
It had only been a day since they'd last been together. She should have remembered that earlier.
"Of course," she allowed, ignoring the pang in her chest the rejection caused. Regardless, she let the subject drop, asking instead, "Can you arrange a meeting with Professor Dumbledore for me?" At his suspicious look, she lied, adding, "It has nothing to do with you."
He snorted, clearly deducing the truth, but promised, "I shall pass your request on the next time our illustrious headmaster graces us with his presence."
The remark about Dumbledore's secret missions reminded her about Harry, and how she'd left him preoccupied with discovering what Malfoy was up to. She probably shouldn't linger if there wasn't a necessary reason for her to remain. It wasn't worth risking Harry noticing where she was or who she was with.
"Then I should be going," Hermione announced, standing up.
"What are you hiding?" Snape asked suspiciously, smoothly inserting himself between her and the door.
"I'm not hiding anything," Hermione denied, shaking her head and wincing at the timid squeak that had entered her voice.
"Then why the sudden desire to rush off? You're not a very good liar. And typically I have to practically throw you out of here when you overstay your welcome," he pointed out, crossing his arms and straightening to his full height.
She hedged, not wanting to betray Harry's secret about the map. But there was no denying that Snape wanted an honest answer from her, and she owed him as much.
Torn. Hermione was torn between her loyalties. Harry or Snape. For the first time in a while, she was unsure what the correct move was or which wizard to support.
Offering a silent apology, she asked, "Now you're complaining because I'm trying to respect your privacy?"
"Granger," Snape warned, recognizing her evasiveness for what it was.
"You were the one to remind me what our continued proximity would lead to…but if you don't mind, I could stick around. I've been meaning to ask you about –"
"Go. Get out. Find someone else to bother," Snape growled, stepping back and allowing her to pass.
"Of course. If you say so," she said brightly, grinning smugly at his faux annoyance.