"You are not alone."

These words reached his ears as if through a thick fog but his innermost self accepted them, received them as if it had been waiting to hear those very words. It was absurd. He was alone, and carelessly babbled words couldn't change that. Apart from the few years in which he had had something like a friendship with Lily, he had always been alone. He had chosen it himself, it had been his decision and he had never complained.

And yet.

Ever since Dumbledore had approached him, told him that he didn't have long to live and forced him to carry out what the Dark Lord had actually told Draco to do, he had struggled with his loneliness. He missed Lily. And at the same time, her existence began to fade in his mind. Everything was overshadowed by this paralysing tiredness and the feeling that there was no reason to go on. Of course he carried on, but he had long forgotten why.

Until he saw Hermione Granger again.

He still despised himself for his despicable act. Not just that he had done it, but rather how. He had wanted to do it quickly and impersonally so that she could hate him with all her might afterwards. Show her that nothing of what occurred was her fault in the hope she wouldn't feel the shame that so many victims like her felt.

But then he saw her lying before him, defenceless and vulnerable, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to protect her. How much he would love to have her willingly, see her embrace him eagerly. All throughout the act, he had to hold himself back because a part of him wanted to just enjoy her warmth and intimacy. That violent act that left her scarred forever was etched into his memory with too much detail. Every second he felt desire and pleasure from the act, every breath that left Hermione's quivering lips. It never stopped replaying in his mind, and never would.

Where had she found the strength to forgive him, even to shed tears for his sake? How could a person have such a big heart? Especially for him. There was nothing likeable about him. And yet she had given him the feeling that he could have a future, that she would fight by his side and that perhaps not only darkness awaited him.

Only to fall for Lucius and throw it all away.

"You don't have to carry this alone. I'm here, by your side. Look at me."

The something inside him that had been longing to hear those exact words forced him to look up at her. He gazed blankly into those brown eyes, which looked at him warmly and full of trust, while her small mouth was already producing the next words. "Trust me. I know this may be unusual for you, because you probably haven't trusted anyone for years. But for your own sake: Trust me. Let me help you."

She wanted to help him. Him. Where did she get this strength from? How could she trust him? How could she even touch him after everything he had done to her? It was a backwards world. She wasn't supposed to help him, he was supposed to help her. He had always been the one to help others. He had come from the Death Eater side and had helped various members of the Order over and over again on Dumbledore's orders. He was in the shadows, hidden, helping. He wasn't the front man in the spotlight who was helped.

That was who he was. He had to finally accept that. There was no one else but him. He was the one who planned, he was the one who executed those plans. He was the one getting things done.

Suddenly he realised that his left hand was on her cheek, encircled by her hands. It was as tender a gesture as he had ever experienced. He shouldn't be the object of affection, especially not from Hermione. He jerked his hand away from her and straightened up with as much self-control as he could muster.

"Tell me about Lucius."

He could see that his sudden change of demeanour was confusing Hermione, but he wasn't ready to reveal to her what was going on inside him, and fortunately she seemed to understand that. An honest, relieved smile appeared on her lips as she too rose from the ground.

"Like I said, I believe Mr Malfoy when he says that he feels like he can only be a victim under You-Know-Who. And that he no longer wants to be. I'm unsure how far his courage will go though."

She looked at him with serious eyes, but her cheeks glowed despite the icy rain. He was overcome by a barely controllable urge to pull her into his arms and hold her close. He had the impression that she was almost glowing before his eyes. He quickly turned away to rebuild his stoic façade and continued on his way towards the herb garden.

"I need to talk to Lucius alone to verify the truth of his statements."

"That won't be possible," Hermione replied, panting as she caught up to him. "He's already forbidden me to say anything about his changed allegiances to you. A conversation with you on that subject will certainly not be honest."

"The much bigger problem is that I don't believe him," Snape explained, "It just seems too far-fetched. Why do you believe him, Miss Granger? Be honest with me. And with yourself. Are you in love with him?"

"No!" Hermione said as firmly as she could. She was not in love with Lucius Malfoy, she knew that. She didn't know what exactly connected her to him, but it definitely wasn't love. "You have to trust me. I'm not blinded by love. I've considered his arguments rationally and assessed his behaviour. He's completely out of his depth, even if he's good at hiding it. Please, believe me."

That strange something inside him that had brought Hermione's voice to his attention in the first place raised its fist triumphantly. Why was he so relieved that her statement was obviously true? That she obviously held no love for Lucius?

"I have no other choice," he stated coolly. "I must rely on your judgement, otherwise we would have to abandon the plan. We're risking everything by taking Lucius into our confidence, but it's our only chance."

"Talk to him as soon as we get back. I'm sure you'll be as convinced of his sincerity in the end as I am!"

"No," Snape interrupted her. "It would be foolish to go into such a conversation unprepared. I have to think about what I'm going to say. I have to be as ambiguous as possible and at the same time make him feel safe. It won't be easy."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Then you need an excuse to stay over tonight. You could talk to him in the morning. He usually has a cup of coffee alone at the breakfast table before his wife and Draco arrive. That's a good half hour you have as a window of opportunity."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think I saw a plant in the greenhouse that blooms at dusk. I'll just explain to Narcissa that I need petals from this plant and would therefore like to use one of her guest rooms."

They remained silent for the rest of their walk together. Severus tried to understand what just happened to him. He could clearly see that he was having a mental breakdown, and as difficult as it was for him to admit it: He was not surprised. Secretly, he had often wondered how much longer he could take it. What puzzled him was his reaction to those few sentences from Hermione. She had pulled him out of the deep hole of despair he had fallen into. That in itself was amazing enough. But there was more. There was a warm feeling inside him whenever he looked at her. A feeling that he hadn't felt for so long that it was almost alien to him.

Did he trust Hermione Granger?

oOoOoOo

Absent-mindedly, Hermione scrubbed the dirty dishes in the large sink. Snape had done a good job of putting on his bored face and announcing in a tone of voice that expressed the utmost matter-of-factness that he would be staying until noon the next day when they returned from their walk. Mrs Malfoy had seemed pleased, Draco had seemed disinterested and Lucius had, as expected, given her a suspicious look. However, as Snape had remained completely neutral during dinner and nothing else had indicated what they had talked about before, the Head of House had finally relaxed again. Hermione's thoughts, however, could not rest. She thought incessantly about how she would have started the conversation with Lucius if she had been in Snape's place, but for the life of her she couldn't think of anything.

"Hermione."

Surprised, she turned round. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed Lucius Malfoy enter the kitchen. There he stood in front of her, one hand resting on the kitchen table, the other buried in his trouser pocket, scrutinising her with a look that went right through her.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I've seen that you've finished your work in the library. I'd like to do a spot check with you. Let the house elves take care of this," he made an all-encompassing gesture, "after all, we own these creatures for exactly that."

Her eyebrows furrowed at the insulting remark about the house elves, but she led it slide. Hermione untied her apron, put it away, and followed Lucius out of the kitchen. She wondered whether it was the prospect of being able to win him over as an ally sooner or later or perhaps the strange look beforehand, but one thing was certain: His presence made her unspeakably nervous today.

Without letting her inner turmoil show, she entered the library before Lucius and sat down at her desk. "How exactly do you want to proceed?"

"You give me three keywords that you used for the categorisation and I'll see if I'm happy with the books that appear on the list."

"Fine."

Hermione rummaged briefly in her memory, then gave Lucius three keywords that she had used for as many books as possible. With his eyebrows furrowed, he went through the list that the enchanted parchment gave him before nodding in satisfaction and asking for another three keywords. Again and again, Hermione thought of combinations that included as many books as possible, and Lucius was always convinced by her work. Finally, he put the list down with a nod.

"That looks good," he remarked, "You've done a thorough and comprehensible job. That concludes your service here. Whenever I acquire new books, you'll add them to the catalogue, otherwise I won't need you here anymore."

Hermione nodded, proud of his praise, but also a little wistful that she would no longer be spending most of the day in the library. But it probably didn't matter anyway, because if her plan worked out, she would no longer be stuck as a slave here in a few days anyway. She stood up slowly and was about to leave when Lucius grabbed her firmly by the shoulders.

"The library is a very special place for both of us, isn't it?" he whispered in her ear.

She looked at him uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

"It was here that you first opened up to me," he explained, while at the same time forcing her back first onto the desk. "It was here that I learnt what a divine woman you are."

Hermione's heartbeat quickened - so she hadn't imagined that his gaze had been full of lust before. She began to tremble as she felt his hot hands on the insides of her thighs. With gentle pressure, he forced them apart to position himself between them. Fearfully, she looked up at him, straight into those glittering eyes that made it so clear what her master wanted from her. Heat flashed through her body and Hermione realised that she longed for his embrace. She closed her eyes to surrender completely to the feeling of her arousal, to block out all thoughts of her surroundings - but suddenly Snape appeared before her inner eye. Snape, who looked at her just as desperately as he had in the afternoon, scrutinising her reproachfully. And hurt.

"Mr Malfoy," she whispered, "I... I can't."

A superior grin stole onto his lips. "Your body tells me otherwise. I'll show you how good it feels to ignore your mind and listen to your body."

"No!" Hermione replied desperately, "That's not what I mean. This is not about me overthinking it."

"Yes, it is," Lucius replied as he began to remove her dress and underwear with the same grin. "I know you well enough by now, Hermione. I know that I have to force you to be happy, that you can only let yourself go if I bend you completely to my will."

Heat shot through her body again. Unconsciously, she rubbed her pelvis against him, which only prompted another self-satisfied grin from Lucius. Very slowly, he ran his hand over her stomach, further and further down until he reached between her legs.

She knew that if she clearly said no, he would let go of her. But was what had happened between Snape and her really a reason to close herself off to Lucius? Was it really so reprehensible to allow herself to be completely dominated one last time, to relinquish control and forget the world around her? She owed Snape nothing. They weren't even friends, they were just allies, a partnership of convenience.

Why, then, was he looking at her so sadly in her mind?