Disclaimer:- I neither own nor own anything from this story. My plot is my own but the world of Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling and associates.

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A/N:- Thank you to everyone who left reviews and alerts for the last chapter, I appreciate every one of them.

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Chapter Three - Inmates

"Hello?" Hermione called as the tray containing a meagre piece of stall bread and what looked like a watery cabbage stew arrived that night. "Hello? There's been some mistake… Hello?"

There was no answer, and listen as hard as she could she could not hear anyone in the corridor outside her cell.

"There's no one there, you might as well save your breath," came the comment from the cell opposite without the owner of the voice bothering to get up from his cot.

"But there are supposed to be guards… a-and where's the warden?" Hermione called back, anger at her situation stabbing through her once more.

"Best hold your tongue and eat what's on your tray, as there won't be any more until morning," Severus commented. He wasn't going to call the slop on the tray food, because it most certainly wasn't that, and this was another thing that had changed without warning some time back.

Hermione listened to hear if her companion was going to say anything more, darkness was falling around her quickly, and her stomach rumbled plaintively, but she couldn't eat, and the rancid odour of the stew made her hungry stomach heave. Therefore, the tray disappeared some time later with its contents intact, and she simply curled up on her bare cot.

Severus had gone quiet once more, and as darkness finally fell completely and the temperature plummeted she gave into grief over the turn of her day once more. Even in the middle of summer it was cold here at night. Hermione huddled in her cot, curled into the foetal position as she attempted to keep warm. That was when the tears of frustration and anger came, and she just hoped that someone was looking for her. Surely Minerva would think it strange that she had not returned, and with that thought she fell into an uneasy, restless sleep.

xox

Over in his cell Severus was mulling over this afternoon's events, apart from the sudden arrival of Hermione Granger, he was—as he always was lately—trying to work out what had happened in Azkaban. Sometime in the last six to eight months, the guards had disappeared, and then inmates started to vanish as well. His wing of the prison had once been full, but people went out into the exercise yards and simply didn't return.

When they were spirited away from the uninviting exercise yard, the easy explanation was that they were rehoused in another part of the prison when they caused trouble, because the disappearances always happened after some sort of scuffle or fight in the yards. He had to admit that it had improved behaviour dramatically, but that was not the point. He sighed, he also knew that there were inmates in the prison who would love to get their hands on someone like Hermione Granger, and that was not counting the ones who would just take advantage of her for sex if they got the chance. There was a substantial possibility that she would be an abused plaything, or simply a murder statistic as soon as it was discovered she was here. And what of the girl? Where had she come from? A mistake, she'd said. So, someone had sent her here, but who?

Severus thought deep into the night. The silence of the late hours here was conducive to thinking. The only breaks in the eerie quiet were the continuous crashing of the waves around the building, something what one incorporated into their normality very quickly. The constant insidious drips of water, and the occasional sound of human misery deep in the night were more troubling and less likely to just be treated with disregard. Therefore, in these conditions Severus heard every stifled sob and cry of Hermione's misery at what had been done to her, and it moved him more than anything ever had. He had long ago come to terms with what had been inflicted upon him in his life, this was also a good place for soul-searching, something in the intervening years he'd done much of.

But while he knew how to handle the sort of people who were legitimate prisoners in here, Hermione didn't. This was no place for an upstanding witch like her, and he resolved that he would have to protect her. From somewhere deep inside himself he pulled his humanity up and dusted it off. He'd always hated having to treat this particular witch with the coldness he'd been forced to show her. She, like him, was a genuine searcher of knowledge, he would almost guarantee that she would have attained multiple masteries by now, just as he had, and from nowhere the corner of his mouth twitched.

To his shock he realised that he was thinking fondly on her, and he was suddenly lost in the unfamiliar emotion. Could this witch landing in this awful place actually be his saving grace? Could he finally be ready to put everything in his past to rest and embrace a brighter future? This made him snort to himself as he turned onto his side and shoved his hands between his legs to try and keep them warmer. He'd lost track of time, he no longer had any idea of when he was supposed to be released, and here he was thinking on a brighter future. You're a fool, Snape, he thought to himself as his eyes finally closed.

xox

Over the next few days, it was scary how quickly Hermione got used to the prison routine. At first every time the awful food arrived, despite Severus' words she'd tried to get the attention of whoever it was who was bringing it, but there was never anyone there. She and Snape seemed to be the only two people in this part of the prison, but he'd gone silent again.

She looked at her now dirty sundress, and for maybe the thousandth time she wondered where her wand had gone. She'd had it, as well as some quills pushed through her bun when she'd left Hogwarts. She was sure she had, but everything was gone now.

What she did not know was that Minerva was frantic. She had expected Hermione back for dinner the evening she'd disappeared, and when she hadn't arrived the headmistress had thought—even though it was out of character for Hermione—that her Transfiguration mistress may have met someone, and she was catching up with a friend. When she did not return for breakfast the next morning it was of some small concern, but by lunchtime the headmistress was starting to become seriously worried, and she Floo-called the Burrow to see if Hermione was there.

"No," Molly replied, wiping little Albus' face after his lunch. "No, we haven't seen her since the weekend of our last get-together," the kindly redhead reported.

"Very well," Minerva answered. "I'm sure she's met someone and she's catching up."

At this Molly looked concerned. "Mind you, it is unlike her not to tell people where she's going. I'll ask around," the kindly redhead assured Minerva.

"I would appreciate it, Molly, thank you," Minerva replied, nodding seriously.

When another day went by and still there was no word; now Ron was starting to worry too. He even thought that he might owl Harry, but then he made a discovery that took Hermione and what might be happening to her right out of his head.

He'd gone into Quality Quidditch Supplies to buy the new broom he'd been saving up for to take his mind off the Hermione situation, and he found that Lavender had totalled their account. At the time he did not link that event with Hermione's disappearance. Why would he? Besides, he did not do his best thinking when he was boiling mad as he was when he stormed into their cottage that afternoon.

"What the hell did you spend all my money on?" he demanded. "You knew I'd been saving up for a new Firebolt. Now there's barely enough money in the account for us to eat this week."

Lavender looked up from her Witch Weekly and smiled sweetly at him. "It was for us, Won Won," she answered, patting the lounge next to her.

Ron grimaced at the name he hated. "Don't call me that!" he snapped, and watched a pout appear on her face, but he was too angry to care. "What could we have possibly needed that would have cost that much?" he asked, glaring at her.

When he didn't calm down and come over to her—as she'd expected him to—she got up and approached him. However, she'd seriously underestimated how annoyed he was, and it seemed to be starting to short-circuit the measures she'd taken to keep him under control.

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "So, what did you buy?"

"I told you, it was a special present for us," she told him in an annoyed voice.

"Well, what was it?" he pushed.

Lavender hadn't actually thought he would discover the missing money so quickly, and she hadn't decided what she might have spent it on yet. Damn him and his bloody Quidditch shit, she thought as she answered, "I-It's a surprise for you, Won Won… f-for our happiness." She was also concerned that he seemed to be defying her at the moment. She'd spent a great deal on potions to keep him under control, and they seemed to be failing her, and this made her angry. She'd be having words with her supplier about this.

"You should have discussed it with me first," Ron went on, so caught up in his own anger that he did not see her expression changing. "You know I had that money saved up for my broom, the old one's wearing out."

In a last ditched attempt to get his attention away from his anger, Lavender tried to wind herself around him, her hand sliding down to his crotch, but he looked stunned at her move and pulled away.

He glared at her. "Get off!" he cried, and then told her, "I need some thinking space. I'm goin' home for a bit," and he walked out.

Had he not been so consumed with rage, he would have noticed her eyes turning cold and a sneer arriving on her face, but he didn't, he simply apparated away.

As Ron and Lavender were fighting, at Azkaban Hermione was standing in front of her open cell door with a look of horror on her face. The door had just opened, and a disembodied voice had told her that it was exercise time, and she felt herself being urged forward. She stepped out into the dank hallway at the same moment as Severus did, and she looked at him.

"If you know what is good for you, you will draw as little attention to yourself as possible," he said as he took the first step out of his cell.

She swallowed and turned frightened eyes to him. This was the first thing that he'd said to her since their conversation when she'd arrived, and it gave her hope that he might assist her. She really wasn't ready to face countless known and unknown criminals.

He stared at her for what felt like an age, but then he huffed. "Stay behind me," he told her.

Closing her eyes momentarily, Hermione walked in the way she was being urged to. It was obvious that the urging was being done with spells, because she had not seen a single guard in the whole time she'd been here. Hermione was so frightened that her teeth were chattering, and her hands were shaking, but she managed a very soft, "Thank you," and fell in after Severus.

After what seemed like an age a frigid wind hit her bare arms, and now her teeth were chattering from cold as well as fright. Severus sidled across to the nearest wall and she happily stayed behind him. She was lucky that he still had a fearsome reputation, and nobody even looked twice at him.

Hermione was surprised that being this close to him wasn't a disgusting experience. To her own nose she reeked terribly, and she wondered why he did not smell worse than he did. However, the answer to that question came too when after a time of standing around in a communal yard, she felt the urgings of her feet to start moving again.

However, this time, instead of going straight back to the cells, a stone panel slid aside along the last corridor, and they were urged into a small room. Without warning the panel slammed back into place and jets of cold water erupted from all four surfaces of the room, and her squeal of surprise turned into a choking cough when her mouth filled with soap and water.

"Oh my god," she muttered when she'd been thoroughly doused in freezing water, clothes and all. She was struggling to pull her bedraggled hair from her face when she gasped, "I wasn't expecting that."

"Then I'd shut that mouth of yours, Miss Granger," Snape told her with a significant look.

"Why?"

But before he could answer her, something that smelled like disinfectant was dumped over her.

"Oh, god. Gross!" she muttered. "Thanks for the warning. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No, that's about all of the delights of our new bath day routine at Azkaban," and he actually chuckled. However, when he saw how violently she was shaking from the cold he felt something give in his heart, and he unaccountably wished that he had something he could give her to help keep her warm.

The panel slid open again and they were marched back towards their cells, and as that was happening, Snape thought of something he really wanted to know. "Miss Granger, what was the date when you arrived?"

"Umm, it was Friday… the… 3rd of July, 2008. W-Why?"

"Oh, no reason. It's just that I had been keeping account of the dates, but last winter I had a protracted bout of pneumonia, and I lost count. Thank you, now I can keep track again," and he turned into his cell.

He watched Hermione walking back into her cell, and he turned in the doorway of his own. He was filled with something akin to pride that he'd hidden her from the monsters in the exercise yard, and as the door clanged shut and she was safe again, he turned into his own cell and sat on his cot and he thought long and hard. He'd spent much of the time since her arrival thinking, but now he had something a little more sinister to think about.

He'd calculated when he'd first arrived here that his stay would be finished ten years from the day of his sentencing, which had been the 12th of May, 1998. Surely he could not have calculated the date wrong, but if it were now July, then he was almost two months over his release date.

Over the past six months or so, something significant had changed within the prison, and he wondered what was going on in the outside world. Then it struck him, he had someone that he could ask about that now, and he stood and walked to the grill in his door.

"Miss Granger?"

Her head arrived at her grill. "Y-Yes?" she asked, her teeth chattering.

"Have there been any new directives concerning this prison in the news lately?"

Hermione thought for a moment, but she could not recall having read anything. "N-No, s-sir," she replied as earnestly as her state of cold allowed her to.

However, Severus exhaled in irritation. "Witch, I am no longer, nor will I ever be your teacher again, please don't call me that."

"O-Oh, I'm s-sorry," she gasped. "I'm not t-thinking very clearly at p-present." The witch took a staggered breath appearing to be trying to steady herself. "W-What w-would you p-pr… p-prefer I call you?" she managed through her chattering teeth.

"Severus, will do," he told her, watching as she tried to steady herself. Even in the gloom of their cells he could see that she was blue from cold. Her lovely hair was limp and tangled and she was shaking from head to toe. She wasn't a robust witch, her body was rather fine and delicate, and unfortunately that brought unwelcome images of her to his mind. They were only unwelcome because he was in no position to offer her anything in here, under other circumstances he would have relished them. He was brought from his thoughts by Hermione replying.

"Then you m-must call me H-H… Her… Hermione, if I am to call you S-Severus. It is only fair," she asserted, although her voice was very shaky, as her body tried to warm itself.

He nodded. His mind was currently busy wrestling his libido, and he was slightly disgusted with himself, but yet again he was brought from his thoughts by her voice.

"H-Has this got s-something to do with the lack of guards? W-Where did they go?" she asked.

"That I do not know, Hermione," he replied. "Many things have changed over the past months. One day no guards were here, and there were spells guiding everything. People started disappearing, and not returning, and in short, it's all very disturbing.

However, at that moment their evening food arrived, and they both fell silent as they tried to force the unpalatable mess down.

xox

Later that night, Hermione was still freezing. She hadn't dried off much at all, but she was heartened by their conversation earlier, and she spoke, her voice more even now despite the cold. "How do you recover from these forced washes?" she called to Severus, from in front of the door where she was running on the spot as she tried to keep warm. Now she had some sustenance—well, she wasn't going to call it food—inside her for energy she had a little more life in her, even if her stomach was rolling ominously as it busily tried to ascertain exactly what she'd eaten.

Severus' head appeared at the grill on the other side. He watched her for a moment, and then smirked. "By doing exactly what you're doing."

"Oh," and she stood still for a moment. "Well, I guess it helps to keep you fit too."

"True, but I would prefer a run through the forbidden forest," he replied thoughtfully.

"Is that where you used to run?" Hermione asked, delving her hands up under her arms as she spoke, and watching a smile starting to crease the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, a run through the forest was a full body workout for both brain and brawn, it helped to keep me battle ready."

Hermione laughed. "I miss Hogwarts so much," and a tear of frustration trickled over her lashes, tracing a warm path down her freezing cheek. The track of her tear felt so warm to her that she wondered why the moisture wasn't actually steaming in the chill of the air.

Severus exhaled softly. "Yes, regardless of what has happened to me there, it is still home."

"I feel the same. After the war, I never thought that I'd fit in there again, but I did." She smiled softly. "I have a whole tower to myself."

"Which one?" Severus asked.

"The North Tower," she answered.

"What did they do with Trelawney?"

Hermione chuckled. "She retired after the war. Firenze now teaches Divination once again, and when I arrived, Minerva allocated the North Tower to me instead of her old quarters so that the head of Gryffindor could live near Gryffindor Tower."

"Who is head of Gryffindor?" Severus asked, interested despite himself.

"A retired Auror called Frank Johnson. He's a fair bit like Moody used to be, but perhaps not quite so gruff. He's head of Gryffindor, but most of the witches under his care come to me if they want something that is intrinsically within the female province of things."

"I can imagine," he replied. "I suspect that Aurora Sinistra was the chosen confident of many of the Slytherin witches whilst I was head of house."

"Yes, that wouldn't surprise me," and she smiled shakily.

They were silent for a moment, but then Severus asked. "This Frank Johnson, he teaches Defence?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, he's been on staff for… oh, three years now." Another period of silence fell between them, but Hermione broke it this time. "Which did you prefer teaching?"

"Prefer?" he asked.

"Yes, Defence or Potions," she quantified.

"Oh, yes, I see," and what could only be a small smile curved his lips. "Potions, definitely Potions."

Hermione returned the gesture, pleased that she'd extracted the expression from him. "I wish you could have taught us impartially."

He arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think I didn't?"

Hermione chuckled prettily. "Oh, please," she said.

He cleared his throat. "I hadn't realised that I'd been so obvious," he stated imperiously.

Her smile grew. "You weren't. I was simply more observant than most."

Severus decided that this was dangerous ground, so he changed the subject. "What do you teach?"

"Transfiguration," she replied.

As soon as she said it, he remembered that she'd already told him that on the first day, so he moved on, "And I'll wager that's not your only mastery," he replied.

She snickered. "No, I also have masteries in Arithmancy and Runes as well."

"Indeed," he replied smirking. "So, I'm still two ahead of you then."

"You have five masteries?"

"Indeed I do," he said evenly, grinning shark-like at her.

She laughed. "Well, I guess I have another ten years to catch up with you," but then she realised exactly what she'd just said. "Oh, god," she moaned. "T-That not g-going to happen now, is it?" and she turned away and slid down the door, curling into a little ball when her bottom hit the stone floor.

"Hermione?" he called, and when no answer came after he'd listened for a moment, he demanded, "Talk to me, don't let it get to you. How long have you been teaching?"

He heard her sniffing, but then the scrap of her dragging herself up off the floor.

"F-Five years," she replied, wiping her eyes as she turned back towards him.

They were silent for some minutes, but they stood looking at one another, and both knew that something between them had just shifted.

For his part Severus was still trying very hard to get his libido under control. It had made certain needs known to him this afternoon when he'd been hiding Hermione behind him in the yard, and then more so when he'd seen her wet clothes clinging to what he reasoned was a lovely body, and now with this new understanding it stabbed at him again most painfully.

At least the heat in his crotch was making his blood course around his body faster and warming him up a bit. However, he was still delving into his mind for his iron-clad control, and he knew that he was currently looking at her like a hungry tiger.

She didn't seem to notice, and after a time she asked softly, "Would you like to go back to teaching when you get out?"

Severus snorted. "I doubt they'd have me," he said, barking a laugh.

"And that's where you would be wrong. Minerva often bemoans the fact that you're not there. In fact, I think she'd welcome you back."

This surprised him… a lot, and he answered her original question. "Then I suppose that I might go back," he replied, and he actually smiled. "Mind you, I'm not certain I'd want to teach again."

However, it was at that moment that a thought struck Severus, and he remembered Albus saying to him once that Sirius Black had remained sane with the dementors by changing into his animagus form, and he inhaled to speak. "What's your animagus form?"

"Sorry?" Hermione replied. "What's that got to do with teaching?"

"I just remembered Albus telling me a story about Black, and I wondered if you changed into your animagus whether you might be warmer. Does it have fur?"

"Umm… yes."

"Then since changing form is internal magic, you should be able to do it."

Her voice sounded much happier when she replied. "Yes, yes you're right."

"Then curl up on your cot and change," he urged.

"Yes, thank you, Severus, thank you. If I wasn't stuck in here, I'd come over there and help you keep warm too. Good night," she stated enthusiastically.

That comment did it. Severus was lost with the images of how they could keep warm, and as he wished her a good night, he concentrated very hard on calming his mind.