Full of suspicion, Lucius Malfoy looked out of his study window at the departing couple on his estates. He had been surprised at Severus' request to visit Narcissa's herb garden again, but the unsurprised look on his wife's face at this news had made him realise that she was behind it again. He couldn't imagine what exactly she was up to, because Severus had asked for Hermione shortly after his arrival in the early afternoon and had left with her. If she had cried to him about the fact that her oh-so-rejecting husband still wouldn't let her back into their bed, a Severus Snape in the herb garden certainly wouldn't do much to change that. So why was he here if he wanted to spend most of his time outside the house?

And why did he take Hermione with him again? Why didn't she seem the least bit frightened, as she did the weekend before, but instead - if he really did know how to interpret her facial expressions correctly by now - was suppressing a smile? Was she looking forward to spending time alone with the man who had brutally raped her? Did something happen between his old friend and his slave at some point during the many hours they spent together last weekend that brought them ... closer together? And if so, what was it? Why did she draw such a clear line to him, to him who had always been good to her, who was her rightful owner, who could truly awaken her sexuality? Hermione Granger belonged to him!

oOoOoOo

Silently, Hermione followed her former professor's quick steps along the now familiar path. To her relief, this time he did have the foresight to conjure up a pair of warm boots and a lined coat for her before they set off, for by now, November was as she would expect: wet, cold, stormy.

Although he hadn't spoken a word to her since his arrival, Hermione felt a strange calmness that he triggered in her. Certainly, the feeling of panic and horror she always felt at the memory of the rape remained, but her mind made it clear to her as soon as he entered the house that the reason for his visit could only be herself. Or rather, their joint plan to overthrow the Dark Lord. She had to control herself very much not to express open joy at the thought that he might already be letting her in on his plans. She needed something to occupy her thoughts during the many hours she spent alone in Malfoy Manor - and working out a plan would be just the thing.

"Are you familiar with Legilimency, Miss Granger?" Snape started the conversation out of nowhere.

It took Hermione a moment to process both the sudden interruption of silence and the unexpected question before she replied, "What do you mean, know? They don't teach Legilimency or Occlumency at Hogwarts, as you well know. When you taught Harry for a short time, I read up on it in the library. But that's all just theoretical knowledge."

"Always up for a bit of reading outside of homework, eh?" Snape commented in a tone that Hermione could not identify as either complimentary or contemptuous. Then he continued, "Theoretical knowledge will suffice for now. Tell me what you know."

Unsure where these questions were going, Hermione hesitated for a moment before deciding that it didn't matter what Snape wanted from her for the time being. Surely there was a point to why he was asking her about it, so she might as well give an answer. "Legilimency is often interpreted by the ignorant, especially Muggles, as mind-reading. But it isn't. It's not possible to read another person's mind just like that. At least not normally; the special connection between You-Know-Who and Harry has shown that magical theory is far from knowing everything about this area. Apart from such cases, however, a wizard who successfully uses the spell on their victim can read their memories, explore their feelings, and possibly even, if they are very gifted, realise if they are being lied to. However, it's more or less impossible to read a victim's current, wildly jumbled thoughts."

Hermione thought she saw a subtle smile play around the corners of Snape's mouth, but when he spoke, his tone was as devoid of emotion as it had been in his school days when he had analysed a student's answer as a professor. "That's correct. With Legilimency, you can mainly read the victim's memories. These remain stored in the mind as images, which include feelings, and can thus be searched through. It takes a lot of practice to search through another person's mind, and even if you have successfully cast the spell, a less talented wizard may not find anything or may even be catapulted out of the mind by the flood of images and feelings."

"But a trained wizard can also do this through Occlumency, right?" Hermione asked. "I mean, banishing the intruder from your mind."

"Correct," Snape agreed. "But even if you are trained in Occlumency, it can take a moment before you have banished the attacker. Accordingly, there is always the danger that a powerful, hostile wizard can get hold of your memories."

Hermione stood still. Of course, she could have thought of that herself. That she hadn't immediately understood that Snape wanted to talk to her about the danger posed by Voldemort's great Legilimency abilities was beyond her. If she was indeed going to play a part in Voldemort's downfall, it would probably be inevitable that she would get close to him - and she had to be prepared for that.

"Do you want to teach me Occlumency?" she asked as she caught up to him again with quick steps. The snide snort that initially came from him in response made her feel incredibly stupid again. But if that wasn't his goal, what was?

"I don't have the time," he explained sharply, "and above all, I don't intend to draw unnecessary attention to myself."

"Then why are we talking about it?" Hermione demanded to know, not liking the feeling of being stupid one bit. Snape had always been good at making her feel that way, but she never got used to it, nor was she willing to put up with it.

She could almost hear the roll of his eyes as he replied, "I am trying to explain to you that I am forming very specific images and memories for you and for myself. And that I can't share all my knowledge and all my thoughts with you because of the danger posed by the Dark Lord. I need to make sure that all your memories of me are such that I can explain them to the Lord."

Hermione narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She understood this concern - nothing was more effective against Legilimency than not having interesting memories. It also explained to her why Snape hadn't come out with the truth for so long, but had led her to it in a roundabout way. Still, the cat was out of the bag with that last sentence, wasn't it? If Voldemort came across this conversation in her or Snape's thoughts, they would be exposed, wouldn't they?

"And how do you intend to explain this particular conversation now?" she formulated her doubts.

Once again, she only received an impatient sniff. "Let me worry about that."

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione dropped the subject. If Snape felt he didn't need to tell her, then so be it. She had learnt that he would only tell her what he wanted to tell her, so prying didn't help at all. Instead, another thought popped into her head. "Is that why you ... why our ... shared experience, as you call it, happened the way it did?"

Now it was Snape who stopped abruptly. A strange expression came into his eyes and if Hermione didn't know better, she would almost have assumed that it was sadness and sorrow she was seeing. But before she could analyse it more closely, his eyes hardened again, taking on an almost merciless expression. "I have no interest in discussing this with you. Think what you want, I can't stop you anyway."

Completely confused, a little frightened, and also quite angry, Hermione put the basket she was carrying for Snape down beside her, crossed her arms in front of her chest and replied, "I'm afraid I can't let the matter drop so easily on this one point. I don't know if you can understand that, but it would be of great interest to me to know what drove you to do it!"

Silence answered her, interrupted only by the rush of the icy wind under her coat and the sound of raindrops falling heavily on both of them. Hermione's curls lost their shape under the weight of the wet hair and, just as Snape's black hair stuck to his face, she too was constantly struggling with long strands of hair that were pulling across her forehead or grabbing at her cheeks. Now, however, Hermione felt none of it, she only had eyes for the man in front of her, who was looking at her with that familiar, cold gaze, not avoiding eye contact, but not giving her an answer either. She wanted to hear from him that he was sorry. That he had had reasons that she couldn't understand. Her mind was almost begging him to say something to soothe her feelings. Something to make her heart accept that he was not the enemy, not a monster, not a man she had to flee from.

"I can understand you, Miss Granger," Snape finally said in a quiet, serious voice. "What has happened will always stand between us. And no matter what I can say, no matter what reasons I can give you, there is no excuse for what I have done. It is my curse that I can spread nothing but fear and terror in this world."

A sob escaped Hermione's throat. At his words, a thought suddenly flashed through her mind that perhaps he had not done what he did willingly. She was a victim, yes. But did that also mean he was a perpetrator? What if he suffered as much as she did?

"Don't look at me like that!" Snape interrupted her, as if he could read what was going on inside her. "A person is free to decide and must answer for every decision they make. My actions are my responsibility."

Hermione swallowed hard. She suddenly felt as if the world had become even darker than before. It had been so easy to hate Snape, to see the monster in him, the lecherous man who delighted in seeing a woman scream. It had been this hatred that had turned to anger and given her the strength to turn her eyes away from the past and look to the future. But if she was right, if she interpreted his words correctly - then nothing was black and white here either. She couldn't imagine what it must feel like for him to do violence to another person, even though he didn't want to.

And despite the sadness she suddenly felt for him, the hatred was still there, the disgusted aversion.

"Come on!" he ordered her, "I don't intend to spend the whole day out here in the rain."

Hermione quickly grabbed the basket and stumbled after him, half-blinded by the wind and rain and the tears that relentlessly sought their way. She couldn't put into words the horror she felt, now that she had realised that Snape was also a victim and suffering as much as she was. Instead, she cried. No matter how many angry looks he gave her, she couldn't stop the tears, she cried all the way to the greenhouse and even on the way back. All her anger against him, against Voldemort, against the Death Eaters, against the world, came out with force and left her completely devastated.

Any thought of their conversation about Legilimency disappeared, and Snape seemed to have no interest in exchanging another word with her.