Frozen, Hermione looked at Snape, who settled on the sofa following his words and was looking at her expectantly. No sooner had he ordered Ginny to leave the library than her thoughts from lunch came back to her - did Narcissa really have good reason to believe that Snape would take her to bed, and thus away from Lucius Malfoy? During her stay at Snape's home, he had left her completely alone, at least on that level. But did that really matter? The uncertainty and especially the fear that her memories of his past actions caused an icy feeling in her stomach. She didn't want to be alone with this man. She didn't want to join him on the sofa.
"Still stubborn?" Snape commented. "All right, you don't have to join me. Stay at your desk for all I care. But you will look at me when I talk to you."
The sneer in his voice and the condescending way he offered her a seat at her own desk caused an old familiar anger to rise up in Hermione. Gritting her teeth, she sat back down, folded her hands in her lap, and looked down at Snape, now sitting slightly below her, with her chin raised. He watched her with the same emotionless mask that she always knew from him. It annoyed her how hard to read he was, and how unaffected he seemed by everything that had passed between them.
"I asked you this question months ago and did not receive an adequate answer," he began the conversation, "but it would be extremely kind of you if it were different this time. Are you treated well?"
It took all of Hermione's self-control not to stare with an open mouth - this was his question? Even back then, she had wondered what he meant by asking her that, and whether he was possibly spying on his fellow Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. The circumstances of his current visit - as a chaperone in Narcissa Malfoy's service - suggested this thought, which she had previously dismissed as nonsense. But still she did not know how to answer it, especially since her situation and her relationship with Malfoy had changed. By now she could actually say that he treated her well. And so did Draco. The only exception to this was Narcissa Malfoy, who, however, managed to make her life hell all by herself. And if she compared the treatment she received at Malfoy's house to the treatment she received at the hands of Snape himself during her stay with him, she was treated poorly even now.
Thoughtfully, Hermione looked Snape straight in the eye. She really didn't know what he was trying to accomplish with the question, but feared causing trouble for Lucius Malfoy if she answered incorrectly. And, as much as this sudden realisation surprised her herself, she didn't want that. She didn't want to repay the kindness with which he met her with betrayal. Likewise, she didn't want to put Draco in danger. It was impossible to tell from her former teacher's face what answer he expected or wanted to hear, but she now knew what she wanted to say herself.
"No, I am not."
Outwardly calm, her back straight and her feet carefully placed side by side, her hands still folded in her lap, Hermione waited for the response of the man before her. Striving to make her words seem believable, she withstood his probing gaze and did not move an inch from her position. It was finally Snape who, with a sigh, turned his head to the side and avoided her.
"No, why would you be?" he replied, nodding, before adding, "Have you been in bed with both men?"
This time Hermione couldn't help wincing at the direct intimate question. Briefly, she wanted to refuse to answer the question, but then decided that a facet of truth was certainly more useful than silence at this point. "Yes."
Strictly speaking, that was actually true: she had been in bed with both Draco and Lucius Malfoy. That Snape asked about sex, of course, and not about sharing a bed, was of no concern to Hermione. She was all the more surprised by the fact that for a moment a scowl flitted across his face.
"Voluntarily?"
A disbelieving snort escaped Hermione before she replied, "Yes, of course."
Long silence spread between the wizard and the witch. Tensely, Hermione strove to maintain her upright, proud posture while Snape studied the rows of the library with an absent gaze. When he finally turned his attention back to her, she thought his expression had changed. He seemed more serious. "Have you ever tried to judge other people's actions not from your own perspective, but from that of the person in question?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I asked you if you've ever tried to put your prejudices aside and ..."
"My prejudices?" Hermione interrupted indignantly. She couldn't believe what Snape just seemed to be implying. "I'm prejudiced? I judge other people unfairly? Is that really what you're trying to say?"
"Your habit of not letting other people finish their sentence hasn't changed since your school days either," Snape retorted, outwardly unaffected by her outburst.
Furious, Hermione jumped up from her chair. "How dare you accuse me of prejudice? Your whole ideology, this whole thing that Voldemort created, that my friends had to die for, is based entirely on prejudice! Prejudice against Muggles, prejudice against Muggle-borns! And you seriously demand that I try to be understanding?"
"You're brave to say his name." That Snape still sat there, calmly, without so much as moving an inch, made her irrationally angry.
"It has nothing to do with courage! Everyone else is just too cowardly to call an insane person by the name he has given himself. Fear of the name only increases fear of the man himself. And if Harry has taught me one thing, it is that it is cowardly to obey! Now stop dodging the question: Are you really asking me to try to understand you and your fellow Death Eaters?"
"I never said anything about understanding, Miss Granger," Snape replied, still without any emotions showing on his face. "I merely wanted to encourage you to consider for once whether everything is really as it seems. Whether everyone is really as they appear to you."
Briefly, Hermione's thoughts flitted to Draco, who, after all the hatred and violence, suddenly became, in the space of one night, a desperate young man who might be her friend. Draco definitely was not who she thought him to be. But Snape couldn't possibly know that. He couldn't possibly be alluding to Draco - or could he?
"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously as she settled back in her chair.
"I do not mean anything. You should pay close attention to your surroundings. And always question what you see. Be careful with your trust."
Hermione laughed humourlessly. "You sound like Moody: constant vigilance! That's ridiculous. Do you seriously think I trust anyone here?"
"No. But that's my point: maybe one day, in an unexpected place, a person will show up whom you can trust."
She launched into a mocking retort, but the intense stare of her former teacher silenced her right back. Was he actually suggesting what she was imagining? Before she could collect her thoughts, Snape stood up and stepped very close to her. At the discomfort the sudden closeness and the difference in height between their faces caused her, Hermione rose as well and took a step back, right to the edge of the desk.
"Don't be ridiculous," she whispered incredulously. Snape's attempt to present himself to her as a trustworthy person hit Hermione from such a surprising direction that she was unable to form a clear thought. Her eyes widened as she watched Snape close the distance she had put between them, then rest his hands on the desk to her left and right. Hermione had to swallow hard before she mustered the self-control to look up at the man leaning over her. Immediately she regretted her own courage: the intense stare made her lower her eyes again, shuddering.
She felt Snape bend down even lower to her until his mouth was level with her ear. She felt his warm breath against her cheek, could almost sense the warmth radiating from the man's body, when suddenly he whispered so softly she almost didn't hear it, "What if I'm serious?"
oOoOoOo
It took Ginny some time before she found her way back alone to the small drawing room where Lucius Malfoy received her earlier. But by now she regretted that she had not taken more time. She had, of course, told the master of the house to give her something to do, but he obviously had other things on his mind. He had nothing to do for people who didn't know their way around his house, he had replied. Instead, she could keep him company while he drank his evening tea.
And so, she sat nervously by his side on a small, baroque-looking sofa, staring into the flames, straining to avoid his gaze, praying that his slimy comments from earlier had been in jest. Hermione hadn't told him that he had approached her in any way, but did that really mean that nothing had happened?
"So taciturn, little weasel?" Malfoy snapped her out of her efforts to ignore him. "You're not known that way. My son always told me you were a feisty young woman, full of yourself and with a quick-witted tongue that the boys had to watch out for."
"I don't talk to just anyone," Ginny hissed, suddenly only too aware just how close he was.
"That's too bad, though. I appreciate young, hot-blooded women," Malfoy retorted with obvious mock dismay. Still Ginny did not look at him, but she sensed that he moved closer to her. The hand that previously held a cup of black tea appeared in her field of vision, placed the cup on the small side table in front of the fireplace - and then came to rest on her thigh. "Aren't you going to show me a little of your wild side?"
"Don't touch me!" she snapped timidly. With a rough movement, she pushed his hand away from her and jumped up to flee the room. Before she reached the door, she heard a soft, characteristic click - an Alohomora magically locked the door. Horrified, she turned to Malfoy. "What are you up to?"
"Yes, what could I possibly be up to?" the blond man asked with a wolfish grin on his lips as he walked toward her with slow steps. Panicked, Ginny looked around, but the small room had no other door and offered no other way to escape the man. Before she knew it, Malfoy reached her and trapped her between the wall and his body. His hands came down left and right of her, and while he was not touching her in anyway, she felt beyond uncomfortable.
To her surprise, Malfoy did not move at all, and was instead looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. They stayed in that position for a long time, making Ginny more and more confused and less and less frightened. Something seemed off about the whole thing.
Then, suddenly, she felt a soft ripple in the magic locking the door just as it opened. Someone entered, instantly noticing the couple next to the door.
"Father?"