Hermione watched as Snape disappeared toward the kitchen, then turned to her friend in a low voice, "Ginny ... please be honest with me ... has Snape ever ... touched you?"

A sympathetic smile appeared on the girl's face as she replied, "No, never. He was always incredibly polite to me, almost friendly. To be honest..." She faltered for a moment and looked Hermione in the eyes before continuing. "To be honest, I got the impression that he was a good man. That he might have motives for being a Death Eater that we don't understand ... or that it would at least be possible to ... turn him. But ..."

Hermione nodded in understanding. Her face was also one of compassion for her friend. Silently, she reached for Ginny's hand and held it tightly. Although the redhead had vowed to encourage Hermione, this small gesture triggered tears in her. Without saying a word, she placed her other hand on Hermione's and just looked at her as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Silently they both sat there, looking into each other's eyes and drawing strength from the fact that after so many weeks they were reunited, at least for a short time. A clang from the kitchen finally caught Ginny's attention.

"Hermione," she began as quietly as she could, "I haven't given up hope. For all we know, there's only one Horcrux left - Nagini. You destroyed all the others, didn't you?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment to break free of her sad stupor and gather her thoughts before answering, "Yes. If Dumbledore was right, then there were only the six Horcruxes, five which are now destroyed, and Nagini. I sincerely hope he wasn't wrong about that ... as he was about Snape ..."

Ginny nodded slowly. "We can't help but assume that. Voldemort is more vulnerable than ever. Do you think he will try to create another Horcrux?"

"Unlikely. Dumbledore said to Harry that it's unbelievable he was able to create so many at all. You're splitting your soul, Ginny, to create a Horcrux. Voldemort's soul is already so broken that another attempt could kill him. He's all too aware of that."

Again, Ginny nodded. "And from his point of view, there is no reason to fear for his life at this time. He has won, after all. And Harry ... is dead."

Hermione sucked in a breath of surprise - she hadn't expected Ginny to talk about Harry on her own. She herself hadn't wanted to broach the subject; she was suffering too much from the loss of her best friend. But Ginny seemed stronger than she was.

"Don't look at me like that, Hermione," Ginny said in response to her friend's reaction, "I've just come to the conclusion that I have to come to terms with the present. Harry would have continued to fight if he had survived, he proved that to everyone when he set out unflinchingly to find the Horcruxes after Dumbledore's death. I want to follow his example."

Hermione admired her young friend beyond measure. She wasn't with Ron, but she knew they both had love for each other. And even though Ron wasn't dead, being away from him hurt her as much as being away from Harry. Too many times in the last few weeks, dark thoughts had plagued her and pulled her down in a vortex, even making her lose consciousness in the shower in front of Malfoy. And here was Ginny, not giving up, hoping and thinking about the future. Before she could say anything about it, however, Snape returned from the kitchen with a tray.

It smelled of fresh coffee, rolls, and strawberry jam. Suspiciously, Hermione watched as Snape placed everything from the tray on the living room table and then took a seat in one of the two armchairs in front of the fire. Ginny got up and sat down in the other armchair with a naturalness that was unbelievable to Hermione. Hermione still didn't believe that this breakfast was meant for her or Ginny, but when the latter started pouring milk and coffee into three cups and setting one of them down in front of her, she could no longer deny what had just happened: Severus Snape had his slave and herself eat the same breakfast as he did.

"Don't look at me like that, Miss Granger!" Snape commented her incredulous stare, "Miss Weasley always takes her meals with me, and I don't see why she or I would go to the trouble of cooking two different dishes."

As if in confirmation, Ginny nodded and said encouragingly, "Go ahead and eat, Hermione. The way I see it, you need all the strength you can get."

Carefully, Hermione straightened up into a sitting position and sorted the blanket on her lap. With a still shaky hand, she reached for a knife to cut open one of the buns, but her arms still seemed too weak. With a clank, the knife landed on her plate before falling to the carpeted floor. Before Hermione could bend down after it, Snape picked it up and took the bun from her as well. Silently, he cut it open, smeared butter and jam on it, and then put both halves back on her plate.

Confused, Hermione looked again at her friend, who only shook her head, so that her gaze wandered back to Snape. But he didn't seem to have anything to say either, because he disappeared behind the Daily Prophet and the only sound heard from him was the quiet sipping of his tea. Shrugging her shoulders, she took her roll, bit into it - and almost choked. The rich aroma of the jam, the taste of the butter, the soft bun with the crispy crust, all this almost overwhelmed her senses after weeks of having only thin tea, stale bread, cheese and milk. More slowly, she took a second bite and let the taste take shape on her tongue before swallowing it all down. With both hands, she then reached for the cup that stood in front of her and took a small sip of the steaming tea. Sighing, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the slightly bitter taste of the tea mixing with the sweetness of her meal.

Smiling, Ginny looked at her friend. It was obvious that she was treated poorly in the Malfoy household, so her delight at something as simple as a normal breakfast was all the more understandable. She squinted over her own tea cup at Snape, who briefly lowered the newspaper. Although she still couldn't interpret his expression after all these weeks, she thought she could detect something like regret as his eyes rested on Hermione. She couldn't imagine what exactly Snape might be regretting, but she shared the feeling. She regretted that Hermione had been able to stay here for only a few days, to escape the Malfoys' harassment for only a few days. Lost in thought, she gulped down the last of her bun, finished her cup, and stood up.

"Bathroom cleaning and dusting upstairs is on the schedule for today, sir. Shall I start right away?" she asked, addressing Snape, hoping that he would be considerate, as he had been when preparing breakfast, and relieve her of her duties so that she could talk to Hermione a little longer. But to her disappointment, the master of the house merely nodded, and so Ginny had no choice but to fetch the cleaning utensils from the broom closet in the hallway and head up the stairs with one last look at the two figures in front of the fire.

Now that Hermione was once again alone with Snape, the old tension crept back up. She didn't dare let the Death Eater out of her sight, but at the same time the sight of him made her so uncomfortable that she would have preferred to turn away. In order not to stare at him all the time, she let her gaze wander over the mantelpiece, always careful to keep an eye on Snape, at least out of the corner of her eye. She was hardly surprised to find the small living room so full of books that even on the mantelpiece there was a shelf crammed with them. What did surprise her, however, was the nature of the literature: old, classic Muggle literature. Dracula, Frankenstein, The Great Gatsby, and many more titles that Hermione had either read herself or at least heard of before because of their notoriety.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I read Muggle literature too."

The deep voice startled Hermione. She hadn't noticed that Snape saw her obviously incredulous stare, nor that he had risen from his chair and stepped behind the sofa where she sat. Restlessly, she moved her blanket to a corner of the sofa to get a better view of him.

"Have you read all of these?"

Snape merely nodded, then stepped in front of the sofa, and sat down next to her. If possible, Hermione sank even deeper into the corner and pulled her knees even closer to her body. He was getting so uncomfortably close to her again, and even the onset of daylight could not brighten his features. In response to her retreat, Snape merely raised an eyebrow, but the cynical remark Hermione expected did not follow.

"Why are you reading Muggle literature? Isn't that beneath you?" Hermione voiced her thoughts before she could stop herself. Once again, there was no scathing reply; instead, Snape now turned to fully face her and looked directly at her. "Did Potter never tell you?"

"Told me what?"

"The Potions book. The Half-Blood Prince. Don't you remember your sixth year at school when Potter suddenly became an overachiever?" Snape explained. "The Half-Blood Prince, that's me."

"Oh, I see." Hermione nodded. "Yes, yes we did know that. But what does that have to do with the books here?"

Snape looked slightly annoyed. "The emphasis is on half-blood, Miss Granger. I am a half-blood. My Muggle father always insisted that I read his literature."

Wide-eyed, Hermione stared at him. Sure, she had known about the half-blood prince, and she had also concluded that Snape must be a half-blood - yet this realisation hit her like a blow. Not only was this man a Death Eater, no, he did not even have compassion for those who, like himself, were not pure blood. He himself belonged to the group of Muggle descended wizards, and yet he opposed them.

"Not everything is always as it seems," was the simple answer to the question that must have been written on Hermione's face. Why did Voldemort let someone like him get close? Why had someone like him allied himself with the Dark Lord in the first place?

Once again, silence spread through the room. Hermione couldn't help but conclude that Snape wanted to gain her trust by any means necessary. But why? What did he gain by having a slave girl who wasn't even his own trust him? Like that night when Fenrir Greyback almost attacked her, she couldn't help but find everything contradictory. Was he going to use her as a spy against Lucius Malfoy? And if so, did that mean Malfoy was up to something the Dark Lord didn't like? But that was absurd; no one was as loyal to Voldemort as old Malfoy. So, did he seriously want to have her trust and seriously want her to know that he was one of the good guys? He had to know that this would be impossible after all that had happened.

Doubts rose in Hermione's mind. He treated her kindly, and apparently, he had been a gentleman to Ginny so far, too. What was this man planning?

"You shouldn't worry so much about what evil plans I'm plotting." Snape's cool voice snapped her out of the vortex of her confusion. Although his face was the same cold mask as always, Hermione thought she heard something like anger in his voice for the umpteenth time. Why did it annoy him that she thought badly of him?

She flinched when she suddenly felt his hand on hers and realised how close he was to her. She tried to push him away, but he caught her fists easily and held her with one hand. With his free hand, he moved under the blanket she wrapped herself in, and Hermione felt the warm hand run over her ankles and feet. Just as she was about to scream at him in disgust to leave her alone and not dare touch her again, she felt him pull away. Flabbergasted, she looked at him.

"I'm not going to attack you," he said softly. "I just wanted to check the temperature of your feet and your pulse. Both indicate, by the way, that you are on the road to recovery. You'll need just one more round of potions and spend the night here, then you can get back to Lucius bright and early tomorrow morning."

Relief flooded Hermione. She inwardly chided herself for panicking whenever this man came near her, but she couldn't help it. The wound he had inflicted on her soul was still too fresh to scar. She should be more kind to herself and allow herself to react whatever way she reacted.

She couldn't stop herself from hurling another venomous remark after him when he was already in the process of leaving. "You can't deny that you enjoyed it!"

Faster than Hermione would have thought him capable of, Snape turned back around and was leaning menacingly over her. He looked deeply into her eyes as he replied in a calm, velvety voice, "You are free to feel and think whatever you like about me, Miss Granger. I will not deny my actions. If anything, you–"

He did not finish the sentence. The expression on his face became very soft all of a sudden. For a second Hermione thought that he would lean in further, and before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him.

"Ah, still so combative, Miss Granger," Snape said, almost amused, as he rubbed his cheek and stood up. "You are obviously doing better than I assumed. I will ask Lucius after lunch if he wants you back as early as today. Until then, go upstairs and have Miss Weasley prepare a bath for you. I will prepare your potions."