A/N: Thank you all so much for the support and the reviews! I definitely meant to have this chapter prepared sooner, but as those of you who are following Rumored in Love know, I really couldn't bring myself to work on this following Alan's passing. In addition to that, I recently discovered that I will most likely be moving halfway across the country this summer, so I've had to spend a lot of extra time with friends, family, and my research. Finally, I have found the time and inclination to finish this chapter (though, I did re-envision a few things as I couldn't bring myself to give Severus an even harder time).

One thing, quickly: In the past, I had someone ask if I had a Twitter account to post info regarding my fanfics. At the time, I thought I could manage to regularly update my livejournal page -Ha! Fat load of crock, that! Anywhoozles, I am now frequently on Twitter for a community outreach thing, so I could easily set up another account if there was still interest in that. Any thoughts?

Thanks again! Looking forward to your comments as always.

Bound to Him

Chapter 74

"Really, Hermione?" Harry cried, stepping out from behind one of the library stacks. "Malfoy and Snape?"

Pulling her mouth away from Severus's and pushing him back against the bookcase, Hermione spun to face the newcomer. Her heart was in her throat as she gasped, "Harry! It's not –"

"Just how many Death Eaters have you fucked, then?" he snarled. "How long have you been their Mudblood whore?"

"I'm not -"

"You think I don't know?" The boy grabbed hold of her wrist and tugged her against him before hissing, "I see what the Dark Lord sees. You really think I didn't see how you let Snape fuck you in front of all his Death Eater friends?"

"It wasn't –"

"You told me you were raped, but it seems to me you rather enjoyed -"

Hot tears welled up in her eyes as Hermione tried to escape his grasp. "No!"

"Quite eager for more, aren't you?"

"STOP IT!" she shouted. "Let go of me!"

Releasing her to stumble backward, Harry crossed his arms and shook his head. "He's using you, Hermione, and you don't even care, do you? Not as long as he keeps sticking his greasy cock in you!"

The girl rubbed her aching wrist and stepped farther away from the Boy-Who-Lived. "No! He isn't using me! He's not a Death Eater! It isn't his fault! He cares about –"

"Ohhh! Isn't this charming! Severus, it seems your little pet has fallen for Master."

Gulping, Hermione slowly pivoted to find that the library had become a dank chamber. Masked Death Eaters penned her in from all sides, while Voldemort approached her at a languid pace. Beyond him stood Severus, now cloaked in similarly dark robes with mask dangling from his slender fingers and a smug grin on his face.

Bellatrix Lestrange twirled betwixt the other Death Eaters, cackling loudly, as she moved toward Hermione. With a wide eyes, she circled the young witch, leaning in and taunting, "What a silly, itty-bitty slut-slut! Such a stupid Mudblood to think –"

Disgusted, Hermione attempted to pull away from her. "N-no! No!"

"Severus…" Voldemort murmured, turning to glance at his spy. "She grows a bit unruly, don't you think? Perhaps she could provide us some entertainment instead."

"Indeed." The dark-haired wizard gracefully stepped forward until he reached his young charge. Though the witch mentally pleaded with him to help her, he merely smirked in response. His fingers were stone cold as they touched her chin, and his eyes were hardly any warmer as he stared down at her. "Take off your clothes. Now."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Oh god! Hermione woke up near-drenched in sweat with her heart racing. Gasping for breath, she sat forward and wrapped her arms around her midsection. Just a dream. It was just a dream. Deep breaths, Hermione, deep breaths. Focus. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

Eventually her heart rate and breathing returned to normal, but the witch knew she was too agitated to attempt sleeping again. Instead, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her wand and school robes, and tiptoed out of the bedroom. Softly closing the door behind her, she shrugged on her robes and quickly padded down the steps to the Common Room.

She froze mid-step, however, upon catching sight of someone seated on a sofa near the fireplace. Her disappointment only increased upon realizing that it was Harry. Holding her breath, she attempted to slip back into the stairwell without drawing his attention.

"Hermione?"

Damn it. The girl sighed and stepped back into the light of the room. "Harry. You're up late. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Her friend stared at her as if to ask her the same question. A moment later, he frowned. "Why would you die for me?"

Surprised by the question, Hermione moved to the end of the sofa. "What?"

"The other day," he replied. "When I talked to you about Malfoy… You said you would likely die for me."

She gave one slow nod as she pressed her fingertips into the armrest. "I did."

"Why?"

The witch narrowed her eyes at him. "Why? Because we're at war, Harry. People die in war."

"I know that," Harry grumbled, "but why would you –"

"I'm a Muggleborn, Harry," she interrupted. "A Muggleborn who has stood in direct opposition to the prejudiced notion that purebloods are inherently superior when it comes to magic. A Muggleborn who has very publicly voiced her support for you. Repeatedly. If you don't think I'm at the top of their hit list –"

The boy emphatically shook his head and sat up straighter. "I understand that, Hermione, I do! I just meant… why would you risk that… for me?"

"Are you serious?" Hermione shifted uncomfortably when it seemed he was. Exhaling loudly, she sank onto the opposite end of the couch from him. "Because you're my friend. Because you're the closest thing I have to family in this world. Because you're the one who has to face the Dark Lord, and you can't face him alone. You remember what Dumbledore said to you – you are stronger because you know love."

"You love me?"

It took every effort not to roll her eyes. "You're my best friend, Harry. Of course, I love you."

After a moment, Harry cracked a tiny smile. "When you think I'm not being a complete prat, I suppose."

"That definitely helps." The witch smirked in agreement before donning a more solemn expression. "Look, I'm certainly not blind to your faults, but just because I call you on them sometimes doesn't mean I don't still consider you my best friend. I just wish… I just wish you would actually see that I'm on your side. I argue with you, challenge you, because I think it's in your best interest, and when you don't listen… I feel like you don't value me. You don't value what I'm risking, what I'm sacrificing to help you. I wasn't forced into supporting you; I chose to do it. But that doesn't mean I have to do exactly as you say or consult you before every decision. I am your friend, and I will fight beside you as long as I am able, but I am my own person. You do not get to dictate my life."

Embarrassment graced Harry's features as he hung his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I just… I can't explain it. I'm sorry. I just felt so… so angry, so betrayed, so… unbelievably disappointed."

"Well, you aren't the only one who felt that way," she muttered, crossing her arms and leaning against the chair. "But unlike you, most of us try to keep our emotions in check. You have to use your head, Harry. You can't let yourself explode in rage like you have been. You need to –"

"Control my emotions, discipline my mind," the boy interrupted grumpily. "Yes, I remember Snape's instructions."

"Pro-"

"Professor Snape," he corrected with a sigh.

Hermione stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking at him again. "And have you been practicing your Occlumency techniques?"

Shrugging, Harry kept his eyes trained on the floor.

With a frustrated growl, the girl grabbed a nearby throw pillow and struck him with it. "Harry James Potter!"

"Ow!" he flinched. "Hey!"

"Ow?" she scoffed, hitting him twice more. "It's going to hurt far more than this if you let the Dark Lord -"

"Don't call him that!" he snapped. "Just because Mal— your b— friend calls him that, doesn't mean you should."

Mentally cursing for the slip, the girl placed the pillow on her lap. "Fine. I'm sorry. You can't let You-Know-Who into your mind."

"His name is Voldemort, Hermione!" he argued. "Voldemort!"

She winced and shook her head. "Please don't say his name."

"What?" The boy gaped at her in disbelief. "How can you… It's just a name, Hermione. Being afraid of –"

"It isn't just a name, Harry!" Hermione shouted, launching out of her seat and moving toward the fireplace. Taking in deep breath, she squelched the urge to reveal all of her knowledge about Voldemort's desire to use his name as a locator spell. To do so, however, would jeopardize Severus should the Dark Lord happen to stumble across the conversation in Harry's head. She and Severus were in agreement that Harry needed to know the risk attached to using the name, but still she was unsure of how and what she should actually tell him. "It's… it's dangerous. If someone were to hear -"

"He is dangerous, yes, but Dumbledore –"

"Oh, because Dumbledore said it means it has to be right!" she growled, crossing her arms. "He isn't the end-all, be-all, you know. Merlin, do you ever think for yourself, Harry?"

His eyes widened in bewilderment. "What?"

Hermione took in a deep breath and held up her hands. "Forget it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I haven't been sleeping well, and… and this really wasn't the best time to have a conversation, I suppose."

"And yet you were the one lecturing me about controlling my emotions."

Her eyes pinched together as she raised her chin and spoke in a cold, controlled voice. "Yeah, funny that. Pleasant dreams, Harry."

"Whoa, hold on, Hermione!" he gasped, moving after her as she made for the portrait hole. "Wait! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… to upset you. Please."

The girl sighed and momentarily pressed her forehead against the wall. "If you're looking for sympathy or encouragement or pleasant conversation right now, I can't give you that. I don't have the strength or stability at present."

"No, I don't… I just wanted…" He let out a huff and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I don't know what I wanted really. Where are you going?"

"Room of Requirement. Dueling practice."

"What, now?" Harry spun around to glance at the clock. "Hermione, it's –"

"I'm perfectly aware of the time, thank you," she sniffed. "This is something I need to do, though. I can't sleep, so…"

"So you want something productive to take your mind off it." He gave her a sympathetic glance. "I understand what that's like."

She grunted in acknowledgement, but internally questioned his definition of the word productive. Going through Quidditch strategies did not exactly fit her description of the word.

"Would you want a sparring partner?"

"Well, I…"

Harry cocked his head. "I promise not to ask you any questions… well, maybe if there's some hex or defense I don't know, but no questions about anything else. Certainly not about… You-Know-Who."

At her raised eyebrow, he coughed quietly. "I meant Malfoy."

Letting out a suffering sigh, Hermione shrugged and gestured toward the portrait hole. "Alright, fine. Come on."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

After verifying that the wolfsbane should be ready for brewing the following week, Severus replaced the containment spell on the drying herbs, removed his gloves, and stuffed them in a drawer of the work table. He locked the door to the small room before sweeping down the aisles of his private greenhouse to check on the growth of several other plants. Summoning a basket from the stack in the corner, he had just crouched down to harvest a bit of spider-barley when pain flared up his forearm.

Hissing, he narrowly avoided slicing his finger with the knife. He stood and hastily stowed his collection materials on the worktable near the door. As he was in the midst of replacing his wards, his Mark burned a second time.

"Fuck." His stomach dropped; the Dark Lord was expecting him to bring Hermione. Snape had known better than to trust that the megalomaniac would keep his word. Though he had explicitly said as much to Hermione, he knew she would not have been expecting to face him any time soon.

'Whatever you're doing, Hermione, I need you to stop and make your way outside.'

'What? Why? I'm in the middle of brewing Stomach Settler. I can't just stop!'

He frowned at her panicked voice as he hurried back through the snow toward the front of the castle. 'You must. It doesn't matter what stage you're on, you need to put it under stasis.'

'Severus, what's going on?'

'The Dark Lord is summoning us.'

'Us? Oh, god, no! I haven't –'

'There isn't any time to panic! We need to leave now!'

'Madam Pomfrey –'

'Don't bother explaining anything to her; there isn't time. I'll deal with her later.'

A string of curse words flew through her head as she Disillusioned herself, escaped the infirmary, and raced through the halls to the castle's main entrance. Yanking open the large door in time to meet her, Severus silently cast Notice-Me-Not and, since he was certain she was not dressed for the weather, warming charms.

"He said he wouldn't call," Hermione whispered as they set out toward the gate.

"The Dark Lord isn't known for being trustworthy," he murmured.

She sighed loudly, and he assumed from the shimmer of the Disillusionment charm that she had ducked her head. "I know. I'm sorry. I should've been prepared."

The wizard said nothing until after having shut the gates behind them. Turning to her, he removed the cloaking spell and grabbed hold of her chin. "You are prepared. You are strong, intelligent, and capable. Whatever happens tonight, you will survive. We will survive. I don't suspect for a moment that you will disappoint the Dark Lord. That being said, I apologize now for anything that may happen."

"Don't," the girl whimpered. "Please. I know it won't be your fault."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I still may be forced to—"

"I know." She grabbed his hand. "You'll keep the connection open, won't you?"

Severus nodded as he pulled up his sleeve to expose the Dark Mark.

"Thank you." Hermione stepped into him, briefly pressing her face into his robes, seeking any trace of comfort she could find before being subject to whatever horror awaited them. His right arm wrapped around her securely as he pressed the tip of his wand into the Mark. Immediately, the air was squeezed out of their bodies as they spun through the ether and arrived rather abruptly in a brightly lit room.

"Ah, Severus," Voldemort called from his chair, twirling his wand as he watched them separate. "And you had been doing so well in not trying my patience…"

"I apologize, my Lord, for –"

"It was my fault!" Hermione blurted out, drawing everyone's attention. Her cheeks flushed, and she hurriedly ducked her head. "I am sorry, sir. I… I'm the reason for our tardiness."

"Well, well." An odd smile settled onto the tyrant's face as he stood and approached the pair. "I trust, Severus, that you did not instruct the girl to admit all fault?"

Snape, still eyeing her with surprise, shook his head. "I assure you, my Lord, I did no such thing."

"Interesting."

Hermione fought the urge to shudder as a frigid hand touched her cheek and then raised her chin.

"And what, may I ask, detained you?"

She swallowed heavily. "I was b-brewing… in the Hospital Wing. It's a p-part of my training…sir."

"Ah, yes," he mused, glancing at the Potions Master. "I am interested in seeing just how your training is progressing. But before that, I'd like an account, firsthand, of what you've…accomplished since last we spoke."

The witch jerked instinctively as he tightened the grip on her face. His red gaze narrowed, and she braced herself in time for the violent intrusion of her mind. Whimpering every so often, she tried to push forth memories she thought were relatively harmless, but might satisfy him all the same.

"Harry, please. Cormac keeps bothering me, but if you were to take me to Hogsmeade and act like we're together, then maybe he'll look elsewhere." … "Ron's liked you for years," Harry stated, "and you haven't given him the time of day."… "Hermione?" Remus called as she hurriedly ducked out of sight. "Are you in here?" … "Well, then," Madam Pomfrey smiled, leaning back in her chair. "I hear that Professor Snape has finally agreed to this arrangement."… Snape sneered disdainfully over Potter's cauldron. "Potter, are you under the impression that any shade of yellow will do? By all means, I invite you to experiment. I look forward to documenting the inefficacy of your variation."… "Granger, did Madam Pomfrey keep you up too late scrubbing bedpans?"

Voldemort gave a short snort before pressing further.

"Harry… This is the girl's bathroom. Might I have some privacy?"… Harry leaned over the edge of the maroon armchair. "Can I ask you a Potions question?" … "What about Ron?" Harry asked. "I know the two of you aren't on good terms right now, but he's still our friend."… "Oh, shut up, Harry," she growled, standing up from the bench. … "Please…just…just you," she whispered, touching Severus's bare shoulder… "Snape happened," Harry grumbled, reaching for a platter of food. "Do I need to say anything else?" … "Fifteen laps were required, were they not?" … "I know he's your friend…and that I shouldn't say anything bad about him as a teammate," Imelda muttered, "but he's a fecking idiot sometimes." Hermione snorted and offered a small smile. "I completely understand." … Harry, noticing the Bludger coming toward his face, pushed higher only to have the tail of his Firebolt and his foot receive the impact… "Incredibly frustrated," Harry mumbled, rubbing his face. "If Slytherin beats Hufflepuff next month, we're done for."

"Ha!"

"The Dark Lord shall value your worth," Severus whispered into her ear, "while Dumbledore would only view you as a pawn." … "We'll begin with the Sectumsempra." … A deathly-pale Dumbledore clutched at his throat and tipped out of his chair… "Hermione, just shut up! What if Dumbledore dies?" Harry cried, throwing a book at the wall. "I need him!" … "Uhhh, fuck, Granger," Severus hissed, cupping her clothed breast… As Dumbledore gave a little wave to the students, she glanced to Slytherin table looking for Draco… "I was so stupid!" Draco shouted. "So fucking stupid to trust her!"… "Don't play dumb, Hermione!" Harry growled. "You've been in there with Draco fucking Malfoy for god only knows how long!"… "So you're not exactly friends now are you?"… "Hid it from everyone…so how can I even know that this isn't just him playing you? How can I know that he isn't the one who –" She slapped Harry across the face… "If it gets out that Draco and I are seeing each other, they'll kill him! As much as you dislike Draco, you cannot tell me that he deserves death." … "I really am sorry that I hurt you," Harry murmured sheepishly. "I just… I don't trust him, Hermione." … "Harry, please. I'm not going to explain my relationship to you." She took in a deep breath and wrapped her arms about her waist. "If you were my friend, you would accept that."… "You're my best friend, Harry. Of course, I love you."… "Just promise me, Hermione, that you'll be careful."

Laughter poured out of the Dark Lord as he released her. As she fell to the ground, he caught her by the elbow and hauled her to her feet. "You've certainly been keeping the idiot boy busy, haven't you?"

Hermione attempted a weak smile and glanced toward Severus, mentally apologizing for the few flashes of their private moments that had slipped through her defenses.

'It's alright, Hermione. It only made it more believable.'

His reassurance made it easier to handle all of the curious and glowering stares that were pointed her way as Voldemort turned away from her.

"Oh, Lucius!"

The blonde wizard hesitantly stepped forward as his wife touched his arm in support. "My Lord?"

"I am certain you'll find this bit amusing," Voldemort smirked, reaching back to grab Hermione and tug her closer to the Malfoys. "It seems Potter is quite preoccupied with the knowledge that your precious heir –"

Narcissa's eyes went wide, and she tightened her grip on her husband's arm.

"—has been enjoying the wares of his Mudblood classmate."

Lucius's eyes snapped to Hermione; his face contorted more with confusion than anger. His wife appeared more relaxed, though, closing her eyes in relief that her son's deeds had not been discovered.

"WHAT?" Bellatrix screeched in rage, pushing past her husband and drawing her wand on Hermione. "How DARE you insinuate such FILTHY –"

The rest of her tirade was silenced with a wave of the Dark Lord's fingers. "Enough, Bella. The girl was merely acting to keep things from unraveling further due to your UTTER INCOMPETENCE!"

Hermione jumped at his sudden roar, as did the pureblood witch, who bowed her head and skittered back behind her husband. The reprimand, however, did not deter her from glaring darkly at the Muggleborn.

"Severus." The tyrant faced his spy. "Are you to credit for this little fallacy?"

The dark-haired man crossed his arms behind his back and then shook his head. "No, my Lord. I merely approved of her decision to employ such a cover in –"

"Of course, you did!" Bellatrix hissed, ducking her head when Voldemort snapped his eyes to her once more. "Apologies, my Lord."

"The Malfoy heir entangled with a Mudblood," the evil wizard murmured amusedly, rubbing his chin in thought. "Love…overcoming familial ties, ha! That old fool would likely eat it up faster than one of his godforsaken sweets! Perhaps this could be of some use to us. A teenage witch in love, after all, is a stupid witch, blind to what is right in front of her face. And when her lover betrays her, betrays them all, publicly, Potter will come sweeping in like the white knight he thinks he is to protect such a silly, naïve, little girl!"

He spun, gliding toward Hermione until he towered over her. "And then you will grovel, girl, begging him for forgiveness! Pleading for redemption! Bowing to his infinite wisdom! His confidence, his ego, his presumption of strength will be boosted, giving him the courage to soldier on when his precious Headmaster is ripped away from him. It is that which will draw him out of hiding, and we will let him bravely stumble about until we are ready to strike him down. It is an intriguing plot, is it not?"

Trembling, the Gryffindor witch nodded, flicking a glance at the spy who stood nearby.

Voldemort smirked and looked in the same direction. "She is quite taken with you, isn't she?"

Snape allowed himself a smug smile as he gazed upon his young partner. "She has learned quickly, my Lord, that loyalty… will be rewarded."

"So I have seen. And as it appears you informed her, I do value worth and talent, despite whatever unfortunate origins it may have." The Dark Lord swept about the space looking speculatively at each of his gathered followers. Eventually, he stopped. "I must require a demonstration, Severus, of just how well you've been instructing the girl. And anyone wishing to measure progress must have a moment prior to intervention to use as comparison.

"I have not forgotten, Hermione, that you were among the children who foolishly rushed into the Ministry last spring. And I do not recall that it went terribly well for you, girl. How fortunate that your previous opponent happens to be in attendance this evening. Antonin!"

Oh god. Hermione sucked in a sudden breath, flinching as Dolohov eagerly crept toward her.

'Steady. If you can keep confidence, you will do well. You are not the same child he faced then. He, on the other hand, has not significantly improved since last you met.'

'He's the one who murdered the Prewetts! I remember that. I'm not ready to face him!'

'He and four others. He is a skilled duelist, yes, but he is not what he once was. Azkaban dulled his reflexes.'

"Severus, come." Voldemort gestured to the immediate right of his chair as he sat down. "I believe this ought to prove enlightening."

"Quite," Snape murmured, giving a silent prayer that the night would remain in their favor.

"I remember you, bitch," Dolohov hissed, slamming into her shoulder as he stalked to one end of the open space. "I'm going to enjoy tearing you open. Pity Snape is the only one able to do that off the dueling floor."

Hermione bit down on her lip as she retreated a few paces and drew her wand. Before facing her opponent, she locked eyes once more with her professor, who gave her a slight nod. Shaking out the tension in her hands, she finally turned in place and attempted to forget about their audience.

'He isn't terribly adept at non-verbals any longer. I would suggest not yet revealing that you are, either.'

'Okay.'

'He is extremely quick, though, so try not to let him distract you. From what I've observed, he tends to favor the right when dodging spells.'

The witch took in a deep breath. 'Thank you.'

"Do try not to kill her, Antonin," the Dark Lord sighed. "I do have further use for her."

Dolohov snorted, leering at her. "I shall try to contain myself, my Lord."

"Wands at the ready! On my mark… Begin!"

As the Death Eater began pacing, Hermione adopted a defensive stance and willed herself to remain focused. Let him take the lead. Defense only, until he gives you an opening. Use his momentum against him.

"You think you can best me, girl?" he snarled, sending a shower of hot sparks at her feet. "Just try it, Mudblood. I'll give you another scar to match the one I gave you last – Expulso!"

"Protego!" she hissed, blocking the attack.

"Ooh… Clever bitch, are you?"

Don't respond. Just keep focusing. Defense.

"Reducto!"

"Protego!"

His wand twitched in a similar motion, releasing another blasting charm.

Blocking it easily, she inclined her head. "So you are capable of wordless spells, then."

"Fuck you, Mudblood!" he spat, before launching several slicing hexes in her direction. As she dodged and produced a shield charm, he gestured to the floor at her feet, whispering, "Epoximise."

'Jump, damn it! Sticking charm!'

Having not heard the incantation, Hermione followed Snape's instruction, jumping slightly sideways to avoid becoming fused with the floorboards. The action disrupted her shield, however, and the wizard's next hex managed to cut across the outside of her shoulder. A cry of pain escaped her, prompting her opponent to laugh. Determined not to let him celebrate her injury, though, she sent a silent tripping hex.

Dolohov narrowly avoided crashing to the floor as one foot was swept out from underneath him.

"Stupefy!"

Her hex was sent fizzling into the floor, and a powerful Stinging Hex caught her left hand. Gritting her teeth, the witch returned her own volley of slicing hexes; each of which were rendered ineffective. As he opened his mouth to hex her, she instinctively cast the first silent spell that popped into her head, aiming slightly to the right of his chest.

A collective gasp sounded throughout the room, and the Dark Lord leaned forward, as the green light flashed toward the wide-eyed Death Eater. Dolohov's surprise prevented him from reacting quickly enough to block it, so the hex hit him squarely in the chest as he dodged. When nothing immediately happened, he sneered and tossed a blasting curse at her.

"Protego! Flipendo!"

"Prot—erggh!" He doubled over as a slug erupted from his mouth, and then flew backwards as the spell connected with him. Blocking her next attack – which had nearly been rendered inaudible by Voldemort's sharp laugh – he stumbled back to his feet and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Disgusting animal."

"You're one to talk," she muttered. "Stupefy!"

Instead of blocking the hex, the wizard lurched right to avoid it. "Lacarnum Inflamarae!"

Hermione dropped and rolled to avoid the ball of fire. As it crashed into the floor and died out, however, it managed to set the edge of her school robes on fire.

"Shit," she hissed, recognizing that to put it out would leave her vulnerable to attack. Knowing she needed a distraction long enough to remove the burning clothes, she cast two Stinging Hexes. As he blocked them, she murmured, "Obscuro!"

A loud curse escaped Dolohov as a blindfold wrapped itself tightly over his eyes. A squelching sound, following a second later, indicated he had vomited another slug.

"Fumos!" the witch cried, rolling to the side as a heavy smokescreen was emitted from her wand tip. While her opponent struggled to remove his blindfold, she tore at the fasteners of her robe and tossed it aside. The fire had also moved to catch the hem of her jeans, so she quickly slapped out the small flames. She winced at the hot pain on her ankle, but forced herself to breathe through it.

"Where are you, you bitch?" Antonin growled, squinting into the smoke. "Reducto!"

Hermione ducked low, covering her face, as splinters of wood sailed overhead. Since the smoke also prevented her from seeing her attacker, she knew that he had to be taking blind shots in the hopes of hitting her by chance. Silently donning a shield charm, she crept along the floor, using the sound of his shouted hexes to approximate his location.

A slug squished under her shoe, causing her slip slightly and catch her weight on her tender hand. Fortunately, any sound she made was masked by his loud retching of another slug.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," he growled, sweeping his wand in front of him. "Reducto!"

As the smoke began to dissipate, she realized that she had managed to appear behind him. Smirking, she raised her wand and opened her mouth to cast an Expelliarmus.

"BEHIND!" several voices shouted.

Dolohov spun just in time to block her disarming charm.

Fuck.

"Impedimenta."

Hermione fell backwards over an invisible mass and scrambled to erect a shield to block the next spell. Sweat poured down her forehead as the Death Eater bore down upon her, sending hex after hex. Her Protego finally collapsed and she rolled several times to escape the slicing hexes.

"EXPULSO!" Antonin shouted angrily.

"Repercutio!" she screeched in desperation, knowing there was no chance she could physically dodge an explosion. The force of his hex hitting her shield pressed her harder into the floor; her elbows hitting the hardwood painfully. Focusing on her charm instead of the pain, though, she pushed forward and reflected it back at his person.

The man emitted a high-pitched shriek as the pressure launched him through the air to land with a loud crack on his back.

Gasping for breath, Hermione struggled to her feet. Spotting her opponent attempting to sit up, she staggered forward. "Expelliarmus Magnum!"

"Gah-fuck!" Dolohov groaned, pulling his hand back to his chest as his wand was thrown out of it.

She pointed her wand at his face as he snarled at her, and calmly stated, "Petrificus Totalus."

An odd hush fell over the room, punctuated by slow clapping.

Wheezing, Hermione looked up to see Voldemort put his hands down and stand from his chair. "Well done. A remarkable turn-around, I must say. And to think some of your brethren doubted you, Severus."

A rush of air escaped Snape as he tilted his head. "I am glad to earn your approval, my Lord."

"Yes, I'm sure." The Dark Lord smiled as he came to stand beside Hermione and peered down at his follower, petrified mid-scowl. "Oh, Antonin…I'm not certain even a mother could find affection for that face."

Despite the source of the quip, the young witch gave a soft snort.

"Now, my dear child," he exclaimed, slipping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to his side. "Since you are the victor, and Antonin was ever so confident that a mere girl could never defeat him in a simple duel, you are well within your rights to punish him."

A rock formed in the center of her gut. "P-punish?"

"It is only natural to take advantage of an opportunity for revenge," Voldemort stated, gesturing to the prone man. "A former tormentor… nearly killed you, and yet here he is… utterly vulnerable at your feet."

"I…I…" She shook as she met the Dark Lord's narrowed gaze. 'Severus? I don't understand.'

'He wants you to use the Cruciatus.'

'What?!' Her eyes widened in fear.

"My Lord," Severus called out, stepping forward. "Due to the restrictions at Hogwarts, I have thus been unable to encourage her practice with the Cruciatus. The use of an Unforgiveable would have been immediately detected."

Eyeing his spy for a moment, the tyrant returned his focus to the girl. "I see. Well then, no time like the present."

'Severus?!'

'You'll have to do this, Hermione.'

'What if I can't?'

'You need to make an effort. You won't draw his ire unless he suspects you aren't trying.'

The young witch swallowed back a gasp as the Dark Lord slowly ran his hands along her arms.

"You've experienced the Cruciatus, haven't you, Hermione? You remember how it felt." As she nodded, he leaned even closer and began murmuring softly into her ear. "He cast it on you, didn't he? He hurt you. He was one of the men who caught you… in the Muggle park. Did you know he volunteered for that task? He wanted you. Wanted to make you suffer. Wanted you to watch while he slowly tortured your parents to death."

She squirmed unconsciously, and he squeezed her arms.

"But you foiled him, you smart girl," Voldemort smiled. "You forced them to look for you until their time was nearly up. He was angry with you about that, wasn't he? And before Severus came to claim you, Dolohov tortured you. He wanted to claim you for himself, and nearly forced the issue. Do you remember that?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

"I suppose you weren't even conscious yet. He wanted to rip away your innocence before you could give it to our dear Severus. I stopped him, however, before he could cause you further harm. Had I not, you would have been entirely at his mercy. But he would have shown you no mercy. You know this. You remember what occurred at the Ministry. Just a child. A helpless child. He struck you down." His fingers traveled up her arm to gently touch her breastbone. "He left you lying there, dying, and what did he do? He laughed at you, didn't he? You were helpless, angry, afraid… and he laughed. He wanted to watch you die, didn't he? You remember how it felt every time you look in the mirror and see the scar he gave you, don't you?"

Her lip trembled as she nodded.

"You defied him, you resilient girl, and survived, but he left you permanently disfigured. Your scar… you are ashamed of it, aren't you? It reminds you of your inferiority. It reminds you of how he thought you a worthless… imprudent… Mudblood." Voldemort returned his hand to her arm. "But you aren't worthless, are you? You are inferior no longer. You aren't stupid. You're the cleverest witch of your age, aren't you? And you are a witch. A talented, powerful witch. Not an animal like he believes. Despite your upbringing, you are far superior to many of your peers. You gave us all a taste of that this evening, but I don't think Antonin here has quite learned the lesson."

Hermione blinked away angry tears as she stared down at the ugly face that had often appeared in her nightmares.

"He'll call it a fluke. He'll claim it impossible that a feeble child such as yourself could defeat him again. He does not respect you. He does not fear you, but instead relishes in your fear of him. But you won't be afraid of him any longer, will you? How can you fear someone if you hold more power than they? And you do hold more power, don't you? You aren't a coward, girl. You aren't feeble. You want to show him how strong you are, don't you?"

Her whole body quivered as she nodded.

"Good girl," he smiled. "You know the incantation. There are no unnecessary wand motions required. Purely power and ability."

Swallowing nervously, Hermione lifted her chin and slowly raised her wand.

"One moment, dear girl." Voldemort flicked his own wand to release the petrification charm. "What use is it if you cannot hear him? Now. Go on."

"C-crucio." Her voice broke and wand wobbled, resulting in nothing more damaging than a Stinging Hex.

Antonin smirked as he pushed onto his side. "You stupid bitch. You couldn't kill a fly unless Snape swatted it for you."

Scowling, the girl steadied her shaking hand and focused all of her anger on the man in front of her.

"A whore like you has no –"

"I'm not a whore!" she thundered, pointing her wand. "Crucio!"

The man's eyes rolled back in his head as he spastically slammed back against the floor. His jaw slammed shut to keep from admitting pain, but a muffled groan managed to escape him before she released the spell.

"Good!" Voldemort squeezed her injured shoulder. "An acceptable beginner's attempt. But you aren't one to settle for merely acceptable, are you, Hermione?"

The witch groaned in pain, but shook her head.

"Shall we try for an 'Exceeds Expectations', then? Think about all of the humiliation he's caused you. He degraded you in front of your friends. He demeaned you in front of his friends. He even tried to sully you in front of our dear Severus. And now, it's your chance to return the favor."

Squaring her jaw, she again aimed her wand at the man sneering at her from the floor. She remembered that face laughing above her, conjecturing as to how long it would take her to bleed out. She remembered that face floating in the dark, chasing her through her nightmares. Laughing, always laughing.

"He won't laugh at you any longer," the Dark Lord whispered.

Power tingled through her fingertips as she coldly uttered, "Crucio."

Dolohov writhed on the floor; his face contorted in agony, and his mouth pinched shut again in determination not to cry out.

"That's it, Hermione. He is nothing compared to you. He is inferior to you now."

Closing her eyes, she could almost feel her anger transforming into strength. Her mind was clearing, and subtle vibrations rippled through her body. It was almost euphoric… almost like… whenever Severus took her to that deliciously high precipice, but had not quite pushed her over the edge. She wanted to find the edge; the closer she came to it, the greater pleasure awaited her. If she just pushed harder…

Frantic screams pierced her thoughts, and she opened her eyes. The vile man was thrashing violently on the floor; blood appearing at the side of his mouth. Bit his tongue, probably. How embarrassing.

"Enough!"

Hermione jumped at the voice in her ear and yanked her arm away, releasing the spell. Panting in exertion, she blinked several times before looking up at the Dark Lord's delighted face.

"Outstanding!" he exclaimed, touching the back of her head as he glanced about the ballroom. Varying degrees of astonishment and disbelief had claimed the faces of his followers; even Snape appeared shaken by what had occurred.

"Potter will never see it coming."

The Gryffindor witch sagged backwards as the serpentine man finally released her and moved toward his chair.

"Severus! You did not tell me just how quick a study our Hermione is. I do believe she even rivals a young Bella in enthusiasm."

A disgruntled cry sounded from the crowd, but it was largely ignored as the spy smirked. "I have noticed it does require some effort to build her confidence, my Lord, but then her ability grows by leaps and bounds."

"Yes, I am quite pleased with her progress," he nodded. "You've done well. Now, I'd like a private word."

As the two wizards disappeared behind a dark curtain, Hermione felt all of the attention return to her person. There were whispers amongst the Death Eaters, but nothing was said loud enough to be audible. Discomfited by the scrutiny, she locked her arms in front of her and dropped her gaze to the ruined floor. Scorch marks, gouges, and splintered boards marred the once immaculate hardwood.

I did that. I survived that. A groan drew her gaze to where Dolohov was still laid out on the floor; his head lolled to one side, while subtle tremors rippled through his limbs. Her eyes hardened into a glare, and she felt her fingers twitch on her wand, as she recalled the revolting things he had said to her. Not so bloody smug now, are you? Vile, murderous cockroach.

The girl startled when Voldemort again appeared in front of her.

"I expect great things," he smiled, briefly cupping one of her cheeks with his cold fingers. "I suggest, Severus, that you take her back to Hogwarts and… reward her loyalty, perhaps?"

Appearing beside her, the Potions Master took hold of Hermione's elbow and, with a slight bow to the Dark Lord, guided her away from the room's center. He sneered down at Dolohov, who was just beginning to crawl away, and snatched up her half-charred robes from the floor. Silence continued to reign over the room as they made their way through the crowd toward the door.

Once they crossed the threshold into the empty corridor, the young witch practically wilted against her professor.

"Narcissa."

At the Dark Lord's address, Snape immediately became rigid. Hermione looked up at him, a fearful question written on her face. 'Did she slip you another note?'

'Yes.' He pressed a finger to his lips in warning, and the pair – out of sight of any of the room's occupants – listened for the pureblood witch's soft reply.

"I lament the status of your attractive floor. Antonin has never possessed an appreciation for finery."

"Oh," Narcissa murmured. "Well, I'm certain they can be repaired, my Lord. The elves likely could –"

"Then see to it," he snapped irritably.

Letting out a breath of relief, Snape gestured in the direction of the Manor entrance, and the pair silently rushed down the corridor before anyone else exited the ballroom.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Severus remained quiet as he escorted a Disillusioned Hermione to his quarters. To grant her mental privacy – as well as to allow himself the opportunity to sort out his own thoughts without also having to sift through hers – he had silenced their connection. Now that he could risk dropping his Occlumency shields, he found himself with a tangle of conflicting emotions; he could only imagine hers to be even more of a mess, given that she had been the primary focus of the evening.

He was proud of her, of course – not only had she defeated one of the better duelists amongst the Death Eaters, she had also led the Dark Lord through a merry chase in her head, throwing enough substance at him to sate his curiosity without raising any suspicion. Had the spy not had intimate knowledge of her mentalscape, he would have easily assumed her to have been an open book. Beyond that, she had bloody well amused the Dark Lord, painting Potter to be an utter ignoramus – a fair assessment, in his book – and hexing Dolohov with the Slug-Vomiting Charm. Having been in her head, he knew it had been more a reflex on her part than a strategic attack, but it had still been a rather brilliant tactic to use. The similarity in appearance to the Killing Curse had given her opponent – as well as the rest of the room – pause, just as it had him months ago in Hogsmeade.

Despite his being pleased with the outcome of the summons, however, concern and anger were also warring for dominancy in Snape's head. With every foul word that left Dolohov's mouth, every exclamation of pain that escaped her, every touch forced upon her by the Dark Lord, he had had to quash the urge to either tear them apart or to grab the girl and run. Either option would have spelled certain death for them both, which, truthfully, was the only deterrent he had merited at the time. Neither the Order nor Potter had factored into his consideration – something that both unsettled and shamed him. Hermione was important to him – he could admit that to himself now – but could he truly sacrifice the Wizarding World just to spare her life?

Dumbledore would have my head on a pike by daybreak if he knew I'd even considered the question. Fucking Mad-Eye Moody would hobble right up to volunteer his services for the beheading. He'd probably suggest I be drawn-and-quartered as well.

A snivel to his immediate right pulled him out of the morbid image.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Just fucking fine," Hermione hissed.

"Would you prefer the infirmary?"

"No."

Deciding it was best not to fuel her fury – he knew full well how Dark magic could toy with emotion – Snape fell quiet again for the remainder of the trek through the corridors. Upon entering his sitting room, he cancelled her Disillusionment, tossed aside his travelling cloak, and then gestured toward the lavatory.

"Do you not have to go make a report?" she questioned as he followed her through the bedroom. "I don't need you to heal me, you know. I can manage on my own."

"The Headmaster can bloody well wait until I'm good and ready to see him," he grumbled. "And while I do realize that you have grown quite proficient with healing charms, it isn't preferable to self-heal if it can be avoided."

The witch sighed as she collapsed onto the closed toilet lid. "You do it all the time."

Yanking open the cupboard door, he flashed her a trying look. "And I am repeatedly reminded of just how numpty-headed an arse I am for doing so. You have always shown more sense, so I ask you not to stop that now."

Hermione cracked half a smile. "That sounded like a compliment."

"Will wonders never cease," he muttered while magically raising the height of the stepstool on which he perched. "Burn first, then the bleeders. Any suspected fractures?"

She shook her head, grimacing. "No. I hit both elbows quite hard, but I think they're merely bruised."

"Thank Merlin for that. Fixing an elbow would be a situation in which Poppy would be required. I don't do joints."

Snorting quietly, the girl hid her face behind her uninjured hand. "Sorry. Just a… Muggle moment."

Severus raised an eyebrow as he pulled a flask down from the medicine cabinet, uncorking it before holding it out to her. "Yes, well, while we're on the subject of narcotics… It'll probably be best if you take this now."

Blushing, she accepted the pain reliever and drank it down with as much grace as she could manage.

"These are going to need to come off." He gently touched her jean-clad knee. "And since it's going to hurt like hell, I think it's best to do it all at once with a divesto."

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Hermione closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the toilet. "Just d-do it!"

The man steeled himself for her reaction as he picked up his wand. "Divesto!"

"F-F-FUH-CK!" she screamed as the fabric ripped away from her skin. "Oh! Oh! Fucking hell that hurts!"

"Deep breaths."

"Fuck off," she hissed.

"It isn't that bad, actually," he mused, observing her lower leg. "Less severe than I was expecting."

"Well it bloody feels that bad."

The corners of his mouth upturned slightly as he started cleaning the burn. The hint of a smile disappeared quickly at her continued whimpers, which finally ceased once he had applied a thick layer of burn paste. Once he had bandaged the affected area, he wiped his hands and cleared his throat. "You can open your eyes now."

As she did so, Hermione let out the large breath she had been holding. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"Good. Now for the –"

"Gaping wounds?" she interrupted. "Shoulder is the worst. The rest, I think, are pretty shallow. And there are some splinters."

Snape nodded in acknowledgement, leaning back to procure a short canister from the cupboard and then gesturing to her swollen hand. "This, I will allow you to do on your own."

The girl snorted as she accepted the Soothing Salve.

Having grown quite warm, he shed his frock coat before leaning in again. Clearing his throat, he prodded at the torn edges of her jumper. "Would you mind if I removed this?"

"No, go ahead," she grimaced, slowly applying salve to the welts on her knuckles. "But divesto it, please. I really don't want to lift my arms."

He did as she advised and was relieved not to hear her give another agonized cry. Moving his stool closer to her, he set to work cleaning and healing the remainder of her wounds.

"What did he want?"

The wizard flicked his eyes to her face, which was turned away from him. "What?"

"The Dark Lord," she clarified. "When you left with him."

Severus grimaced as he dribbled essence of dittany over her shoulder. "He wished to know if Draco was making any progress."

"And? What did you tell him?"

He wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve before returning to his work. "I told him that we have eliminated the possibility of either poisoning him again or sending him a cursed object since the meals and post are under heavy scrutiny. I did manage to convince him, though, that I have been working on a certain, young Auror in the hopes of securing knowledge of any weaknesses in their protection."

"Tonks?"

"Before you shout at me, I haven't put her in any further jeopardy than she already was. You've seen how Bellatrix treats the nephew she does claim. After dispatching of her cousin, she's been quite excited to prune the rest of the bad apples from her family tree."

Hermione shivered slightly and squeezed her hand into a fist.

"Do you need another pain reliever?"

"No," she gasped, shaking her head. "I'm fine."

Snape eyed her carefully, but moved on to remove a thin sliver of wood from her side. "He wants witnesses."

"What?"

"When Draco – or I, as the case will be, kill the Headmaster. He wants loyal witnesses present to ensure that it happens in whatever manner we claim. I think we know whom we can thank for that bloody stipulation."

The girl frowned and let out a frustrated huff. "That means you have to have it planned ahead of time!"

"Indeed. And we will have to figure out a way to sneak the Lestranges into Hogwarts before it happens."

"I hate her," she growled darkly. "Everything she's done… how is she still alive? He would have killed you if you had been the one who overstepped his bounds."

The spy exhaled slowly. "Bellatrix has always been his favorite. Sharing his bed gave her that particular advantage. Detaching her claws from him will take a great deal of work."

"Bitch," she hissed, before wincing and closing her eyes.

"Hermione?"

"It's nothing."

He frowned. "It doesn't appear that way."

A scowl appeared on her face as she slammed the salve canister on the edge of the sink. "Would you just hurry up and finish?"

"I'm nearly done," he muttered. "But if you need another dose of pain–"

"I don't need a ruddy pain potion!" she snapped; her eyes flashing as she turned her head.

Meeting her heated gaze, understanding suddenly dawned upon him. Anxiety was practically radiating from her as she rigidly held herself as far from his person as was possible without interfering in his treatment. Undoubtedly she was combatting the residual urges that often followed in the wake of utilizing magic as Dark as the Cruciatus. It had been almost twenty years since his first – and only willing – experience in casting the Unforgiveable, but he did remember the destructive thoughts and impulses that followed it.

After carefully checking over her body to ensure he had not missed any injuries, Severus wiped his hands on his trousers and settled back on his stool. "Hermione –"

Before he could continue speaking, though, the young witch pushed off of the commode and stormed out of the lavatory. Heaving a deep sigh, he stepped over the mess of medicinal supplies and moved into the bedroom after her. If the situation had been different, he likely would have found the sight of Hermione Granger furiously pacing back and forth in naught but bra and knickers quite humorous, but as it was he merely felt the cold hand of dread squeezing his stomach.

"Hermione."

"God, why won't you just leave me be?" she whined, covering her face with her hands.

When she began to tug on her hair, Snape swept forward to grab her by the arms. "Hermione, look at me."

A harsh glint was in her gaze as she lowered her arms. "What?"

With an apologetic grimace, he moved his hands to the sides of her face. "It's alright."

"No." Hermione attempted to shake her head, but he held her firmly.

"Are you attempting to Occlude right now?"

She nodded slowly as a few frustrated tears splashed onto his fingers.

The wizard bent forward to reach her eye level. "This is not the time to do so. Everything you're trying to stifle… you need to let it out. It isn't good to allow it to build up. You will end up losing control later, when it could prove dangerous."

"But, I… I… you don't understand!"

"You're experiencing violent urges?" he questioned.

There was a noticeable gleam of shame in her eyes before she slammed them shut.

"Hermione, it's alright. It's expected." Severus sighed and wiped away her hot tears with his thumbs. "We have time now. Dumbledore can wait until he's dead for my report, for all I care. It's a controlled-enough setting. You can act on those impulses here."

"What?!" she gasped; her eyes flaring wide. "You can't mean…"

"I do." He nodded earnestly, slowly dropping his hands from her face and drawing to his full height. "Whatever it is you need… Use me."

Chest heaving, Hermione gaped at him momentarily before her expression hardened. Power practically crackled from the halo of wispy curls escaping her thick plait as she took one step forward, reached up to grab the hair on either side of his face, and wrenched his head down to attack his mouth with hers.