Day 5, Morning
"What do you think you're doing Miss Granger?" Snape grunted as he attempted to sit up.
The girl jumped back, tugging down her dress and hiding her hands behind her back. Her blush was so deep that he could see it tinge her scalp even through her bushy hair. Apparently he had caught her red-handed. But why would she do such a thing?
"I asked you a question girl. I expect an answer." He narrowed his eyes and scowled.
She looked even more frightened. Well, that couldn't be helped, could it? Besides, it was a good thing for the girl to be frightened, it likely would help to keep her alive.
"I-I was helping you sir," her voice was trembling as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Tear-rimmed brown eyes lifted to his as she continued. "You were having a seizure. T-the curse—"
Ah yes. Of course the little Gryffindor would come to his rescue. Merlin forbid, he could die in peace.
You're not allowed to die yet. You still have promises to fulfill, reminded a small voice, deep in the recess of his mind. So… it would seem Severus Snape still had a conscience.
Lovely.
He was getting ready to yell at the witch once more when he noticed his flaccid length hanging outside his trousers, still sticky with his release. He groaned then, horrified at what the girl had done–been forced to do. He stuffed his cock back inside his trousers and moved to stand.
Then again… part of him stirred. There wasn't an inkling of the curse left, which meant she had to have climaxed, herself. The dark side of his psyche was angry that he missed it. The lighter part was so incredibly thankful that he didn't have to watch the girl ruin herself further.
Snape cleared his throat, offering a hand to the girl to help her stand, but she refused. Why?
Then he remembered what he caught her doing and smirked.
"My wand, Miss Granger." She felt around for the ebony piece of wood, handing it back to him handle-first, looking mournful at the loss of a magical conduit. He wanted to chastise her. Surely she was bright enough to know he'd never let her keep his wand?
Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he cast a wordless tergio at the girl, snorting when she squeaked in surprise as her fingers and quim were cleansed of their mess.
"T-thank you, Sir." Her voice was hoarse but subdued. Thinking back, he realized she'd hardly spoken since she was given to him. And how long was she forced to be silent before then? His eyes raked over her body once more. She was thin. Too thin. He needed to start her on some supplemental potions if he could slip them to her non-discreetly. He knew he still had some lying around somewhere, when he needed help with his own well-being, and could always brew more at the castle.
"Come with me, Miss Granger."
She nodded, standing up and tugging her dress back down, blushing once more as she struggled to maintain her modesty.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He walked over to his wardrobe, pulling open the door and snatching one of his white oxfords off the hanger. Moving to one of the drawers, he pulled out a pair of black cotton pants and waved his wand over both.
"There. Something decent," he muttered as he handed them to her. Honestly, they were transfigured into something barely a step above loungewear. Granger, for her part, looked like she would either cry or try to hug him.
He wanted neither.
"Get dressed," he barked, "and meet me in the kitchen." He moved to the door, closing it behind himself as he walked down the creaky steps and into his kitchen. First priority was to grab the potions and get the girl fed.
XOX
She thought for sure he'd murder her when he caught her tasting him. She just was curious, that's all… to see if he tasted differently when consumed willingly. She found it… palatable, if she were honest. Then discovered she wanted to hex herself for even thinking those thoughts about her… captor. But she didn't really want to keep calling him that.
Gods. She was so confused. This man was brutal, ruthless, and sadistic. But his memories proved otherwise, didn't they?
Was he still a member of the Order though? Or simply not as evil as she originally thought? She sat on the side of the bed, blushing at the intimacy of such a simple act, before quickly tugging off her attire and donning the transfigured clothing Snape had given her, making her way down stairs.
As she turned the corner, she saw Snape standing at the hob, flipping sandwiches with a practiced ease. The smell of cheese toasties floated in the air, and her stomach decided to verbally protest her hunger. He turned to look at her, snorting softly as he returned to his task.
"Hungry, Miss Granger?" he intoned.
She covered her belly and lowered her eyes. For some reason, she found her hunger embarrassing.
"Sit," he gestured to the small kitchen table. "I dare say we have a lot of calories we need to replace before we return."
"Re-return? We're going back?" Her eyes were as large as the plate he had just served her meal on.
"We must," he said softly as he turned to start washing the pan. She found it interesting he cooked and cleaned the muggle way. Come to think of it, the whole house seemed decidedly muggle. She pushed the plate away. Suddenly, she found herself without an appetite.
Snape sighed audibly as he sat down across from her. "Ask your questions girl, your mind is racing."
"Are you reading my mind?" she gasped.
"There is hardly any need for it, Miss Granger. Most members of your House wear their emotions plain on their face. You are no different."
She wanted to protest this, but Snape was right. She'd been easy to read her whole life. She opened her mouth to speak but he held up his hand.
"You are allowed one question…after you finish," he nodded towards her sandwich.
"Why do you care if I eat?" she mithered. Snape simply crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his seat, arching one of his eyebrows as he stared at her pointedly.
"Fine," she grumbled, snatching her plate back in front of her and tearing off a piece of the cheese toastie with her teeth. Her actions were unmannerly, she must admit, but she was annoyed. Then, when she finally registered the taste, she actually moaned. Oh Gods! It was amazing. She bit off another piece, and then another. She gulped down some milk he had set aside for her and looked up to find Snape smirking, eyes glittering with mirth. It startled her. She swallowed and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
"Finished?" he teased.
"Yes. Sorry sir. It's–" she paused, unsure of how to continue. "It's been awhile since I've had anything that good."
"It's hardly five star cuisine, Miss Granger," he chided with a roll of his eyes.
"Still, sir. We had been living off the forest for so long… and then. Well, you know," she finished somewhat lamely.
"Indeed."
There was a long, awkward silence that followed. Hermione kept herself busy by picking at her crust. Finally, it was Snape who spoke first.
"One question, Miss Granger. Then we need to prepare to return."
She thought about what she wanted to ask. Was he still a spy, or did he simply not like Voldemort's ideals? Did he have a plan? Why can't we talk at the castle? Is there a cure for the curse? Will they have to continue to– Gods, she couldn't even say it in her head. Finally, she decided on one.
"Is there a plan?"
Snape stiffened. He thought about her question for a long, long time.
"Yes," he finally answered.
"Can I know it?" she prodded.
"No."
Hermione swore that the bastard almost smiled at her then.
"How can I help if you don't tell me?" she shouted, instantly regretting it.
"Do. Not. Speak to me with such familiarity Miss Granger. You know nothing of my intent nor will you be privy to any additional information. I do not require any help from a child such as yourself, aside from your compliance to my demands so you don't get us both killed with your recklessness."
He was towering over her, palms flat on the table as he looked down that large, hooked nose, eyes burning with anger. "Your mind is not safe, Miss Granger. I won't be able to divert the Dark Lord with a simple Imperius again."
Hermione thought about it for a moment before blurting out "so teach me!"
"What?"
"Teach me Occlumency. Like you taught Harry."
"It didn't work for Potter, it won't work for you." Snape scoffed and started to leave, Hermione scrambling after him.
"I'm a fast learner, Professor," she started. She was so close behind him that she ran into his chest when he quickly spun around.
"Professor now, is it? Now that you wish to gain my favor and learn from me, I'm back to 'Professor'?" He sneered at her before turning away.
"Please!" she begged. Knowing it wasn't enough she dropped to her knees, crying. "Please, Sir!"
"Stop with the histrionics, girl." He grabbed her arm and pulled her back up.
"I can't go back there like this. I– I'll kill myself. You won't be able to stop me. If there's nothing to hope for… I'll do it." She raised her chin, openly displaying her determination. When he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped down onto his sofa, she knew he had won.
"Sit, Granger," he sighed. "Potter was unable to learn. He didn't take his task seriously."
"I will! I promise, sir," she pleaded.
Snape sighed. "You will have precisely–" he waved his wand to cast a tempus charm, "6 hours to learn as much as you can before we will be missed. The rest you'll have to do on your own, as you can."
"I can do it, Professor. I know I can." She was elated. Finally something to look forward to.
"If you don't, Miss Granger. It's more than just your life and mine that you risk."
XOX
Snape had to admit, the girl was a much better pupil than Potter. Perhaps she'd be able to pick up enough technique that he could quench her thirst for information. But he wouldn't do it unless he was sure. He couldn't risk everyone's lives, even knowing his own life was forfeit no matter the outcome.
He walked over to his bookshelf and grabbed a well-worn tome, Guide to Advanced Occlumency and handed it to the girl. She ran her fingers over the spine, muttering about Barnett and the other texts he had written.
Annoyed with her lack of reserve, he drew her attention back to the seriousness of the situation. "Read what you can for the next hour. Then we shall start testing your knowledge. I must leave for a few moments. Do not touch anything. Do not answer the door for anyone. Do nothing but read."
It was unlikely anyone would come calling, but from time to time a neighbor would attempt to pull him into socializing only to be left obliviated. He couldn't risk even a stranger's life. Snape was best left alone and unattached. He walked towards the door, fetching his frock coat before reaching for the doorknob.
"Sir–"
"What?" he snapped. The girl was exhausting and he was trying his damndest to not allow himself any more stress. The curse was dormant, and he wished to keep it that way.
"Could I have some parchment?"
Several sheets of parchment, a quill, and a container of ink later, and Snape found himself outside his house, warding it with the highest level of protection he could, before he crept into a small space between two houses and apparated away.
The Fidelius charm still worked, thankfully. He hoped that the occupants were off doing their assigned tasks, he wasn't in the mood to socialize with any of them, if he were being honest. As the buildings shifted to reveal the worn-down number twelve, he stepped inside and waited for the ghost of Albus Dumbledore to come barreling through.
Not one of Moody's brightest ideas. As if Severus Snape would actually fear a ghost— he, himself, was more dead than alive these days anyway. With a flick of his wand, the illusion was gone. Snape stood in the entryway, straining to hear any movement. Blessedly it was silent. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked down the dark hallway towards the portrait that he had just returned only days earlier.
"Headmaster Snape," the portrait greeted with a dramatic, sarcastic bow.
"Headmaster Black," he returned. "I must ask you a favor, keeping in mind you are still bound to me in oath."
Phineas Nigellus Black rolled his eyes. "But of course Headmaster. I have not forgotten my duties. Nor have I forgotten the debt I owe you for returning my portrait. That mudblood kept me in her bag for far too long."
"Do not use that word around me," Snape growled.
"Ah yes. I had forgotten your little indulgence for the girl," the portrait chuckled.
Snape glowered at the painted man. "Just tell me what is going on at the castle. Has my absence been noticed?" His temper would have leveled any wayward child but not this damned portrait, he simply smiled.
"No."
"Very well. Tell our guests that I shall be back with some sort of alternative communication device. Hogwarts is no longer safe."
That caused a reaction from Headmaster Black. "What do you mean?" His eyes narrowed, head tilted in curiosity.
"The Dark Lord has placed a surveillance charm throughout the castle, my quarters included. We cannot communicate this way any longer."
"The castle is semi-sentient, Severus. Surely you knew that?" Phineas looked genuinely befuddled.
"Of course I know that. However—"
"There is no surveillance charm within the Headmaster's suite or office. The castle would never allow for it."
Snape felt his anger swell, heat blooming over his face. "You are positive?"
"But of course," he said snidely.
"And you knew the entire time?" Snape yelled, hands fisting in his hair. "Why didn't you inform me immediately?"
"You didn't ask," he shrugged, brushing off imaginary lint from his painted frock.
"I didn't— I should burn both of your portraits! The things I did— oh gods." Snape turned around and sank down to the floor, back pressed against the wall as he hung his head between his knees.
"Will that be all, Headmaster?"
"Yes, Phineas," he said exasperatedly. "That will be all." Merlin. He was a horrible, horrible man. How could he have not considered that the castle wouldn't allow for surveillance. Of course it wouldn't. He'd have a long talk with all those damned portraits when he returned. Not a single fucking one told him.
Snape allowed himself exactly three minutes of self-loathing and deep breathing before he left Grimmauld and returned to Cokeworth. He'd burn the damned painting after the war. At least he knew he could still communicate with the third Order of the Phoenix.
He came home to find the girl with her nose still buried in the book, quill moving frantically across the parchment. She hadn't even noticed his arrival. He'd scold her for that later. Constant vigilance, girl.
"Have you finished your reading?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good." He noted the way she sat up in her chair and had a sudden sense of Deja vu to the bushy haired witch that dominated his classroom with her incessant hand waving and compulsive blabbering. "The first lesson you will take away is that one must completely quiet their mind. Rid yourself of all thoughts and emotions." If that's even possible, he mused.
"Yes, Sir."
"I will attempt to penetrate your mind. You will attempt to resist. Now. Prepare yourself."
Snape slid inside her mind rather easily, much to his disappointment. The girl seemed to have imagined some sort of white noise, like a scrambled telly. It was an irritant, but easily torn through. Her mind was open, pushing forward all her thoughts and emotions about Potter and Weasley. She was angry at them for being so reckless, but loved them both dearly and missed them. It gave Snape a sour, bitter feeling and he wanted to move on quickly. He felt how she felt about herself then. She was disappointed. Self loathing, depressed, angry, scared, tired. It was like a punch to the gut and it left him breathless. It was too much, all at once. He withdrew quickly.
"How was that?" Her eyes looked haunted but hopeful.
"Not good enough," he grumbled. "I easily moved past your pathetic excuse of a wall."
"I thought—"
"We don't have time for thinking, girl. Try again."
This time as he murmured his spell, he could feel her struggle. Everything was tinged red— she was mad. Good. She needed to get some of that Gryffindor fire back. He saw the hatred she had for him, but that was to be expected. If the Dark Lord saw that, it would likely result in only a punishment for Snape, and not death for them both. He was, after all, meant to win the girl over. But why did she hate herself? He sought out that feeling once more and followed it.
Hatred. Disgust. Embarrassment… he latched onto that, he could tell she didn't want him there– it would be a perfect time for her to evade his intrusion.
This time, she pushed him out. "That's private!" She yelled.
"Good. Fight harder to keep me out. We go again." He didn't want to give her a chance to close herself off. The Dark Lord was a brutal Legilemens, she needed to learn this way.
Granger had switched techniques, he noted. This time as he entered her mind, he came across a body of water. No. It was the black lake. Interesting. He headed towards it. Walking into the cold, murky depths has he waded deeper and deeper. He inhaled and dove beneath the surface. It was harder to see this time. The water was dark and cold, he found himself wanting to resurface instead of sinking into the memories, but he persisted. The girl was detailed enough to have even created the giant squid, among other creatures. It would appear that the cephalopod was guarding her most treasured secrets. Well done, Granger.
A feeling of embarrassment bubbled to the surface. He moved in to investigate. A tentacle swung at him, but Snape was able to avoid it, grabbing ahold of the memory and feeding from it.
It was the first day of Potions. He watched himself deliver his same start of year speech— crashing through the door, reciting the same poetic speech that he did every year. He watched himself lay into Potter. If only the boy ever used his brain… he told him everything he'd need to know throughout the years. Then he saw it. Something he had written off at the time. The bushy haired little girl waving her hand around desperately in his class.
"Put your hand down, you silly girl." She teared up, lowering her head in embarrassment, only to raise those damnable brown eyes in defiance to once more attempt to answer a question.
He had snapped at her. For no reason. The shame that radiated from her in the memory was enough to make him consider her for the first time. Not just Potter's annoying friend, not just an arrogant know-it-all. But a person. A young child. Hermione Granger. That memory was linked to another. He followed it curiously.
Granger was walking through the hall, listening to the Weasley brat and the Boy Wonder tease her. She was crying as she ran into the girls' lavatory. He remembered that very same night was the one where the Troll escaped and almost clubbed the three of them to death.
Snape smirked a bit at that memory. He knew she lied that night. Still, the hurt that radiated off of her was enough to guide him into the next memory.
Her fourth year. Draco had once again antagonized her and Snape noticed as her teeth grew rapidly.
"I see no difference" he had said. A bit cruel, he decided. He watched as she cried and headed towards the hospital wing.
Another memory flashed before him, he was helpless to follow. Down further into the murky depths of Granger's mind. The water was even colder now.
She was a bit older now as she briskly walked through the halls. By the look of it, she was carrying every book she owned in her arms. The flash of white hair caught Snape's attention and sure enough, Draco walked out of his way to knock the books from her arms.
That disturbed the wizard more than he expected. Snape was reminded of his own humiliating childhood. A certain brat-of-a-wizard knocked his own books from his hands and stole the girl.
He pulled out of the memory, swimming frantically towards the surface. He didn't need to see more. It wouldn't benefit anyone if he started finding similarities between himself and the girl.
He cleared his throat and rubbed his temples. Granger, for her part, was glaring at him. He rose and walked to the kitchen, fetching two glasses of iced water.
"Drink."
She sighed before grabbing the cup and drinking it down.
"I told you those memories were private," she grumbled. He didn't know how to answer so he decided to ignore her completely. Silence ensued to the point where he was growing uncomfortable.
"Well?" She asked.
"Well what?" He snapped back.
"Aren't you going to berate me? Call me a swot? Silly girl? Insufferable know it all?"
He swallowed deeply. "No Miss Granger." She simply looked at him, dumbfounded.
"That is enough for today." He stood, collecting their glasses and returning them to the kitchen. "We should prepare to return."
"What?" She gasped. "No… no, please. I'm not ready to go back. I'm not. I won't go. Will we… will you have to… to…"
"Granger, Calm yourself." He was alarmed by how quickly she shifted to this state of mind. "Granger? Breathe, girl."
The girl was hyperventilating. She wasn't listening to anything he was saying. He sighed exasperatedly, and pulled her over to the sofa with him. He cupped her face, forcing her to look up at him. Her brown eyes were expressive.
Fear. Panic.
"Focus, Granger," he commanded softly. "Breathe with me." He filled his lungs deeply until they burned, eyes locked on hers to ensure compliance. "Hold." He counted to ten in his head before he whispered "exhale." The air wooshed out from both witch and wizard as Snape struggled to get the girl breathing properly. He made sure to hold the exhale longer than they had inhaled.
"Again," he whispered. "Breathe through your stomach, not your chest." He demonstrated on himself, resting a hand on his own so she could watch his hand rise and fall. She mimicked. "Good." He took her through the cycle once more. She was calmer now, breathing more naturally. He rubbed his thumb over her cheek soothingly, unaware of his actions until he watched a tear fall from her eye and he moved to wipe it.
Just as quickly, he moved his hand away as if burned. He held his breath as he struggled to reassure the girl, whilst not making impossible promises. Settling on his words, he tried to soothe the girl the best he could.
"I'm sorry this has happened to you, Miss Granger. I wish I could say I won't hurt you, but I can't promise that. At times, I will be forced to."
"Can't—" she cut herself off, biting her lower lip and looking down at her clasped hands. He waited patiently for her to continue. "I'd rather we not let the curse develop to the degrees which it has been."
She was humiliated to ask that of him, he knew without even needing legilimency. The thought of taking her without completely being forced into it was out of the question. He wasn't a consenting party any more than she was. He'd refuse–
"Please, sir? It'll hurt less I think. You're…" she paused again, swallowing back more tears. "Quite forceful when the curse takes over." She refused to look up at him, staring intently at her fingers which she had started to pick at.
He paled at the thought. How idiotic was he? Of course it was worse on her. He had assumed, incorrectly, that he was protecting her. That if there wasn't even a minuscule portion of Severus Snape left in the body that took her, that it wouldn't be as traumatic. That she could trust him, not the man he was forced to become. But it was the opposite.
He was an idiot and deserved her hatred. He felt himself grow more weary, his stress was increasing between the hard work they had done with her Occlumency practice, and now…
He took several deep breaths and tried to calm himself further. It wouldn't do to activate the curse again.
"I shall endeavor to be more… cognizant of your feelings in the future, Miss Granger." He stood, offering his hand out to the witch to help her stand. "It's time to return."
She nodded her head solemnly. Snape did a final walkthrough of his house before taking the girl outside. He set his wards, pulled her into the narrow alleyway, and apparated them back to his quarters.
He released her immediately. Unbuttoning his frock coat and hanging it in his wardrobe. "I have recently been made aware that my quarters are safer than the Dark Lord led me to believe. You will not be forced to clean anymore nor share my bed. I shall take the sofa."
"You don't—"
"It's the least I can do, Granger. Now. Get some sleep." He slunk over to the sofa, waving his wand to enlarge it and conjured an extra pillow and sheet. He didn't even bother undressing.
"Sir?"
"Hmm?" he grunted.
"What's next?"
He grumbled, not wishing to speak anymore. "You will spend the day studying Granger."
"And you?" She asked bravely.
"I believe I have a certain ginger witch to train."
The girl smiled, though he was sure she didn't notice him watching as she crawled into bed.
"Thank you sir," she whispered.
"Sleep, Granger," he sighed. As sleep beckoned him, his mind raced with all the things he needed to do. Speak to Rowle and Lovegood, inform the New Order of the plans, and, not the least of which, save the Weasley girl.