Hermione couldn't help the little spring in her step as she descended the stairs on Monday morning. Despite having to spend so much time with Snape, the weekend proved to be immensely insightful.
She finally had something that she could use against Voldemort.
Of course, she did not yet fully understand why his name made him react that way, but that was beside the point. What mattered was that it brought him almost literally to his knees. If she had known that she just needed to call him Tom to turn him into a desperate little puppy, she would have tried that sooner. She only did it, really, because she thought he would hate it, but this was far better.
Smiling, she opened the door to the breakfast room. Even seeing Snape sitting there, in his usual spot, couldn't dampen her mood. She would have loved to kill him, but defeating him and testing her new found skill was the next best thing.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," he greeted her, peering over the top of his newspaper. "You appear to be in an exceptionally good mood."
She elegantly sat down on one of the chairs, purposefully choosing one in the middle of the table instead of the far end as she did before. Without dropping her smile, she held his gaze. "Of course. I beat you again after all, didn't I?"
"Ah," he made. For a moment, he fell silent, his eyes returning to the newspaper. Then, without looking back up, almost nonchalantly, he continued, "I thought you might have gotten permission to kill me."
She almost choked on her tea. Coughing, she sat the cup back on the table and stared wide-eyed to the man who pretended to simply read the Daily Prophet. She could not believe her ears. Was he mocking her, knowing full well that Voldemort would never allow her to kill him? Was he gloating? Showing off his own importance? Why else would he talk about his own death so calmly?
She dropped her gaze to her plate. This had happened before. Snape never seemed to care whether he lived or died. If it was Voldemort's wish, he would not fight against it.
"That is not something to joke about," she hissed.
Finally, he folded up the paper and put it aside. She didn't look up, but she could feel his inscrutable gaze on her. It made her hairs stand on end.
"Is it not?" Snape retorted. "Should I take your words at face value then? Truly believe that you intend to become a murderer by killing me?"
Again, he sounded disinterested. Even though she could feel his eyes burning into her. She shivered. For some reason, his words were similar to what Voldemort said the day before.
With a huff, she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Why is everyone so hung up on the murder thing? Isn't everyone around here a murderer?"
Something flickered in his eyes. "Just because that is true of the residents of this house does not mean you should follow on that path, Miss Granger."
She snorted. "If you haven't noticed, professor, we're at war. Death and killing is part of it, whether I like it or not."
"I have noticed."
Hermione suppressed a groan. This man was impossible to talk to. As just a teacher at Hogwarts, he used to be irritable and a man of few words, but she never noticed how aggravating it was to actually have a conversation with him. She never had a reason to.
"Why are you here, Miss Granger?"
The question caught her off guard. It was quiet and considerably less cold than his previous words. He had asked her that before, shortly after he discovered that she was a prisoner here. But this sounded different. Something in his voice sounded almost desperate.
"I don't know why he wants me here. But if you want to know why I chose to come here?" It was the first time she said it like that. That it was her choice. Maybe it was time to admit that she indeed did choose this. "To find a way to rid the world of your beloved Dark Lord."
Snape exhaled slowly and closed his eyes for a moment. She could only imagine how much he had to hold back his actual reaction to hearing those words. He probably wanted to kill her right then and there. But of course, like everyone else, he was bound to obey his master.
When he opened his eyes again, they were deep dark pools of molten lava that threatened to swallow her. It took everything in her to hold his gaze. The intensity of his stare sent goosebumps over her skin and she could barely keep herself from shivering. This was the Death Eater Snape, not her professor at Hogwarts or a member of the Order of the Phoenix.
"What?" Hermione snapped, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. "Did I hurt your feelings when I said I want to kill your precious master?"
He gave her a sharp, condescending smile. "No, Miss Granger, you did not hurt my feelings. Your answer is hardly surprising. You are Harry Potter's best friend, after all."
Harry Potter's best friend. Of course, that was what Snape thought of her. What everyone thought of her. She couldn't help the tinge of resentment she felt at those words. At least Voldemort saw her has a person in her own right. To him, she was not just an accessory to the Chosen One.
She blinked. From one second to the next, she felt heat creep into her cheeks. That she had even a single positive thought about that monster was wrong, so very wrong. Even if compared to Snape, Voldemort should never come out as the better person.
She took a deep breath. No. She felt good this morning. She felt optimistic. She would not let Snape take that away from her. Determined to not back down, she stared right back into his eyes. She was not a student at Hogwarts. She was not just Harry's friend. She was Hermione Granger, a witch of considerable power, enough to tempt even the Dark Lord. Enough to overpower this dark wizard. She would not let him change how she felt.
To her surprise, Snape did not look away either. She could not shake the feeling that he was trying to read her mind. She swallowed. Was he? From the Occlumency lesson, she knew what it felt like when he slipped into her mind, but maybe that was just because he was actively teaching her. Maybe he could enter her thoughts without her noticing. If so, eye contact was the last thing she should allow.
No. He would see everything eventually during their Occlumency lessons anyway. He could see all her hatred towards him for all she cared. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, pushing down the anxiety that he might look at all her intimate encounters with Voldemort. She noticed his eyes flicker to her lips for just a heartbeat. His face remained unchanged, just a cool exterior housing those deep black eyes that seemed to peer right into her soul.
"My, my, the tension is thick this early in the morning." The chillingly cheery voice of Rabastan cut through their staring contest. "Still relegated to just pining after the mudblood, Severus?"
For just a moment longer, Hermione held Snape's gaze. She could see his jaw working, the slightest movement that betrayed more emotion than she was used to seeing. The younger Lestrange clearly hit a sore spot, she was just unsure what exactly it was.
"I believe our lord made it clear that he expects us to show respect to Miss Granger," Snape replied, watching the other wizard out of the corner of his eyes.
"You're always so concerned with the literal words of our lord, Severus. The fact that I sit here, all limbs intact, is proof that he really doesn't care about her," Lestrange retorted as he slid into the chair exactly opposite of Hermione.
Snape looked at her again and raised an eyebrow in question. Hermione studied the silky sleeves of her emerald blouse for a moment, considering what the best answer would be in this situation. Everything she knew about Voldemort by now indicated that he would not let Rabastan's behaviour slide. It was only a question of when he would retaliate.
Smiling her most seductive smile, she leaned over the table to stare right into his eyes. "You know, I almost forgot about that little incident. I probably should test your theory soon. What say you? Is the bet still on?"
He had the audacity to grin. "Sure. If you have a death wish."
"What is this about, Miss Granger?" Snape's cool words sent a chill down her spine.
Hermione felt like she could not take her eyes off Lestrange, but ignoring Snape felt equally impossible. Her good morning had turned sour way too fast. Taking a deep breath, struggling to keep up her smile, she turned to Snape.
"We had a slightly disagreement about my status in this house a couple of days ago, that is all," she explained vaguely.
Lestrange scoffed. "I don't think there's really anything to disagree about. I insulted you, I hurt you, and here I am, untouched. Seems to me that you are not as protected as you want us to believe."
Hermione could see the muscles in Snape's neck tense. His eyes turned into fiery pits of tar, but when she blinked, his face looked impassive again. He simply inclined his head and replied, "I see. I agree with you, Rabastan. This really is not something where disagreement is possible. There is only one right answer, one obvious outcome."
Lestrange snickered, but Hermione was not able to look away from Snape. Nothing changed in his face, and yet she felt like he was secretly smiling. Perhaps it was that sarcastic tone that gave her that impression? Whatever it was, his derision was not directed at her, that she felt sure of.
Without realising it, she chewed on her bottom lip. If anyone knew how sensitive Voldemort was about anything related to her, it was Snape. Why would he find amusement in the potential punishment of a fellow Death Eater? Or was he simply relieved that for once, Voldemort would not focus his attentions on him?
"You know, Granger, if you wanted to get into our lord's good graces, you should start by not returning the sweet affection Severus shows you quite so obviously."
Her eyes snapped back to Lestrange as she felt heat creep into her cheeks. What was it about this Lestrange that got under her skin so easily? She could feel her hands tremble from the anger gripping her body.
"I see your sharp tongue still outshines the sharpness of your mind. I applaud your confidence, Rabastan."
Hermione took a deep breath. Rabastan Lestrange lived for riling others up, especially her. Snape on the other hand would never give her any reaction at all. These two were decidedly the worst people to spend a Monday morning with. The best thing she could do was ignore them, even if she felt an almost incontrollable rage at Lestrange's words. They didn't deserve to see her lose her good mood.
"What a joy it is to see the three people I favour most in this world get along so splendidly." Hermione almost jumped out of her chair as she heard Voldemort's silky voice from the open door. There he stood, wearing a black suit and black shirt that made him appear way too human and even more haunting at the same time.
"My lord," Snape and Lestrange said in unison.
Expectantly, Voldemort looked at her. With a role of her eyes, Hermione joined in. "My lord. How wonderful of you to join us."
Instantly, she could feel the eyes of both Snape and Lestrange on her. They clearly did not expect her to show any kind of respect towards the Dark Lord, especially Snape, after everything she said before. But she did not care. In his presence, she had a role to play.
He stepped around the table and pulled out a chair right next to her, sitting down as he laid one hand on her neck. She shivered. The easy intimacy that he showed felt entirely out of place and comforting at the same time. Perhaps she should put a stop to Lestrange's antics right here, right now.
Turning her full body towards Voldemort, she put one hand on his thigh and leaned into his touch. Trying to ignore the heavy weight of Snape's glare on her back, she smiled up at the Dark Lord. "My lord, there is still the matter of what Mr Lestrange said and did to me the other day. We never talked about that again."
An indulgent smile played around his lips. "Indeed, my sweet. Is your patience wearing thin?"
She nodded emphatically. "Very much so."
For a long moment, Voldemort seemed to contemplate her words as he silently stared into her eyes. She waited with baited breath. She had no doubts that he was fully on her side in this. But there was obviously something he was still unsure about, something he couldn't quite decide.
Before she could ask about it though, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on her lips. Then he turned to Snape, a sinister grin on his lips. "Severus. Seeing as you are still a teacher, why don't you educate Hermione in this as well?"
"My lord?"
Voldemort rose and stepped around the table, stopping right behind Lestrange's chair. Hermione could not believe that this man still had the audacity to smile smugly. He truly did not understand the situation he was in right now. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy the spectacle before his eyes, obviously expecting his lord to turn against her any moment.
"I believe my dear Bartemius once taught you the Unforgivables, my sweet? During your fourth year, if memory serves?"
Her mouth went dry. She could only nod.
"Now, Severus. Please refresh her memory. It is time that she puts her knowledge into practice, don't you think?" He brought both hands down on Lestrange's shoulders, gripping them hard. "Especially since we have such a willing test subject in our midst."
Cold sweat formed in her neck. She had expected that Rabastan Lestrange would suffer for what he had done. That it would be she who inflicted that suffering was a shock. Hesitantly, she glanced at Snape. His face remained as impassive as ever, but judging from the way his right hand clenched into a fist, he was surprised by this turn of events as well.
She ran her tongue over her lips and tried to swallow the dry knot down her throat. Did Voldemort really expect her to cast an Unforgivable Curse? She looked back up at him. He was still smiling, but she could feel the predatory aura underneath it. He did indeed.
"Listen to me, Hermione." His smooth voice demanded her attention. "Casting an Unforgivable Curse requires power, both magical and of the mind. Only the most advanced, confident wizards and witches succeed in it. I believe in you. You can do this."
She could feel her heart beat faster. Yes. She could do this. Lestrange would never underestimate her again after this, if he survived. And perhaps Snape would stop looking down on her as well. A smile that mirrored Voldemort's crept onto her lips.
"Very well. Teach me, professor."