She should have expected that this was what was first on her mind. And yet she was shocked, flaming hot shame setting her body ablaze as the scene played out in her mind with more detail than she thought she could ever remember.
Voldemort stood behind her, trapping her between his tall body and the bookshelf. His fingers travelled down, slipping under her clothes. Her breathing sounded loud in her ears, just as her heart was beating heavily against her chest. Worst of all, she felt every single emotion from that moment, perhaps even more than during the actual scene.
Her desire for his touch. Her eagerness to submit. The awe for his power. Experiencing it again, Hermione was too aware that there was not even a hint of disgust or repulsion to be found. No, her past self was completely at Voldemort's mercy and she craved his touch.
A finger slipped between her folds and she moaned. God, was she really that wet just from the merest touch?
"I think that should suffice." The disembodied voice of Snape reached her ears.
She blinked and in the next moment, she was back in his office, sitting on a chair in front of him. He no longer touched her, no longer had his wand in hand. Instead, he stared down at her with an unreadable expression.
Flushing deeply, she averted her eyes. "You had to choose that one, didn't you?"
"I didn't choose anything, Miss Granger. This memory screamed at me loud enough that I didn't even have to try to see it." There was no condescension in his tone, and still she felt deeply embarrassed.
Silently, he sat back down on his own chair. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. All she found herself able to do was stare at her hands that were white-knuckled fists on her lap. Snape already knew about this incident, he had seen her live in that moment. So why did she feel this shame? Her heart was beating just as fast as in the memory, not from arousal, but from panic and embarrassment. The office seemed to shrink around her, cornering her, leaving her rooted on her chair.
"I can see that this memory causes you a lot of discomfort," Snape said after several minutes of silence. His voice sounded almost kind. "I understand that it feels overwhelming right now, but I believe that it makes this particular memory the ideal training exercise."
Suddenly, Hermione realised that her whole body was shaking. With the last bit of self-control she had, she took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Then she forced herself to look at Snape again. "Training exercise?"
"This memory causes you to experience intense emotions. Emotions that you do not want to share with others. You don't want anyone else to know what happened that night." The cool, emotionless tone was back, but for some reason, she now found comfort in that. "The more advanced part of Occlumency allows you to create false memories as a protective layer around the actual memory. That way, a Legilimens would find what they are looking for without realising they're not seeing the actual memory. It is a stronger protection as most of the times, it goes undetected. Where a blank mind instantly tells a Legilimens that you are hiding something, a well-constructed false memory will appear as the truth. You're giving them something without actually telling them anything."
The information slowly trickled into her brain, reaching through the fog of shame and anxiety that still had her in its grip. Hermione blinked several times, pushing down anything she was feeling, and instead clinging to the words leaving Snape's mouth. She was learning something new. Learning was good. It gave her brain something to do.
"That sounds difficult," she finally pressed out through gritted teeth. She didn't trust her own voice, half expecting it to be thick with left-over desire or trembling with fear.
"It is. The stronger the emotions attached to a memory, the harder it is to create a fake. That is why I believe using that memory for your lessons would be beneficial. You will fail and fail again, many times. And nothing makes you learn faster than failing."
"Of course you would believe that," she retorted. "You know what? In my personal experience, I learned fastest when I got to experience success. That positive feeling of conquering something new is what drives me to always try hard. If I failed all the time, I would probably just give up."
There it was again, that raised eyebrow that expressed so much contempt and arrogance. After all the years of looking up to him as a professor, Hermione found that she now only could picture his face with that expression on it. Evil, evil bastard.
"I don't believe that for a second," Snape said quietly. "From everything I observed, you are driven by your fear of failure. You might enjoy succeeding, but the thought of failing or not understanding is what actually makes you work hard. You think everything through on your own until you are sure you will succeed. And usually, you do. But if you fail, you never make the same mistake again. That is what I'm talking about."
"Don't talk to me as though you know me. You know nothing!" She could feel an icy coldness take hold in her stomach. Everything he said was right, and she hated him for it. Because it showed that underneath all his mean and cruel behaviour, there was a good teacher. Someone who actually studied his students and understood them. And that only highlighted his twisted, evil personality. If he understood her – and probably every student – so well, there was no need to be condescending and cruel. He chose to do that. It wasn't ignorance, it was deliberate oversight.
"I am instructed to teach you Occlumency. While our lord advised me to be gentle, I will not change my teaching method to suit your ego, Miss Granger. If you don't agree with this, talk to him yourself." He sounded even colder than before.
She sighed and closed her eyes. Learning Occlumency was only one part of why she was here. The other part was to observe Snape. She didn't know what Voldemort was looking for, but she doubted she would get anywhere if she blocked everything from the start.
"Fine," she hissed, her tone laced with venom, "if you wish to ogle your student in her moment of ecstasy over and over again, be my guest. Let's use that memory."
"It's you who is embarrassed about this, not me. Don't twist this into something it is not." His words were sharp and cold.
She simply shrugged. "So, what's next?"
"Your first step will be to learn how to empty your mind, while I try to unearth the same memory again, though without touching you this time. Prepare yourself."
Resigned, she closed her eyes and deliberately slowed her breathing. Even just thinking about having to relive that memory over and over again made her heart beat faster. But she would not let her body take over her mind. She could conquer this. She would.
With new determination, she opened her eyes again and looked directly at Snape. "Okay. I'm ready."
She wobbled when she arrived back at the manor. For a moment, she feared that she might have splintered herself, so intense was the pain she felt in her whole body. Nothing was bleeding though, and she quickly realised it was just the pain from exerting more mental energy than she should have.
Panting slightly, she climbed the stairs to her room. It was only early in the afternoon but she felt like she could sleep for three days straight. As she climbed the last step, she had to steady herself against the wall of the corridor. Her knees were trembling and she felt her head pounding with an intense headache.
"What's that I see? Hermione Granger, weak in the knee?" The gleeful voice of Rabastan Lestrange startled her out of her lethargy. "Was dear old Severus too rough on you?"
She was too tired to deal with him right now. Pulling herself up, she stared at him as he leaned against the doorframe of her room, blocking her from entering. "I think you've entertained us long enough. I'll ask the Dark Lord to please remove you again."
Rabastan put the back of his right hand against his forehead in an exaggerated manner, while his other hand gripped the shirt over his chest. "Such cruelty. You would deprive me of my family?" In the next moment, all humour was gone and he towered over her, too thin for his height yet still exuding danger that made her skin crawl. "No. I don't think so. I doubt a good little girl like you would ever dare to make demands of our lord."
"If I were a good little girl, I wouldn't be here." She looked him in the eye through heavy lids, battling the fatigue that threatened to overtake her.
"Didn't sound like you had much of a choice," he sneered. "And even if you asked him, why would he grant it? He clearly enjoys my presence here. If there is one thing I have learned in the past decade it's that our lord only ever does what he wants. He certainly wouldn't listen to an insignificant mudblood like you."
"Want to bet?"
Before her tired mind could react, his hand shot out and closed around her throat, squeezing tight. "Watch it. You really don't want to anger me, mudblood."
His eyes shone with a madness that she knew only too well from Sirius. The first months after his final escape from Azkaban and the Dementors pursuing him, she often saw the same crazed expression in them, hinting at the horrors he had experienced in that prison. It was thanks to Harry and Remus that Sirius was able to find himself again. This young wizard on the other hand clearly never recovered. Who could, having a family like the Lestranges and Malfoys?
"You shouldn't be calling me that," she told him.
"You really are stupid, aren't you? Do you truly believe that our lord cares about you? That he cares whether any of us insult you? Are you so deluded?"
Before she could respond, a shrill scream made them both jerk around. Rabastan let go of her and instead stared down the corridor with obvious shock. "Bella? What happened?"
Faster than Hermione could blink, the witch appeared in front of them and gave Rabastan a hard push. "What are you doing?"
"Ow, what the fuck, Bella? What is wrong with you?"
The always pale face of the other witch grew even whiter as she stared first at Hermione, than at her brother-in-law again. "What is wrong with you? How dare you defy our lord?"
Hermione took a step back. Whatever was happening here, she understood none of it. She was sure that Bellatrix Lestrange hated her with a passion. She had spent a day in that witch's body and knew only too well that for her, there was only one thing in the world: pleasing Voldemort and being recognised as his lover. Why would she defend her suddenly?
"Ugh, by Merlin, don't tell me you're that stupid, Bella. You really think he gives a damn about her? He clearly only wanted to rile up Lucius and Cissy. He didn't mean any of it." Rabastan sounded like he was talking to a child.
Bellatrix shrieked in response and pushed him back once more. "You think you're so clever. But nobody knows the Dark Lord like I do. Never lay a finger on that girl again. Ever. You hear me?"
"I always wondered when the last of your brain cells would snap. Seems like I have my answer now. Fine, have it your way. Throw yourself in front of a mudblood and defend her honour. We'll see how much that pleases him when he hears about this." With that, Rabastan turned around and walked away with long, swaying steps.
With a huff, Bellatrix turned around. When her eyes met Hermione's, she could see the hot flames of hatred in them. Yet still, she sounded concerned as she asked, "Are you alright?"
Frowning, Hermione looked her up and down. Out of everything so far, this was the strangest thing she ever experienced. "Are you really Bellatrix Lestrange?"
For a moment, the concerned look wavered and was replaced by pure rage, but instantly, a smile was back. "Of course. I just want to make sure that our special guest is treated well. If he hurt you, tell me so I can punish him."
The wound on her arm throbbed as though her body remembered the torture more vividly with the witch directly in front of her. She quickly shook her head and slipped away, fleeing into her room. She made sure to lock the door properly and cast more protection spells than usual around the four walls.
She was tired and confused, not only thanks to Bellatrix, but also because she had to confront her feelings for Voldemort again and again during her lesson with Snape. She wanted nothing more than for this day to be over.
Before she even knew what she was doing, she rid herself of her clothes and collapsed on the bed half naked. She had just enough energy left to pull the blanket over herself, then a welcoming blackness enveloped her and she happily gave herself over to sleep.