Bound By Chains (Harry Potter) PDF

Bound By Chains Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48986845. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: F/M Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Relationship:...

Bound By Chains Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48986845. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: F/M Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Relationship: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape Characters: Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, Minerva McGonagall, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: dubcon, BDSM, Bondage, Teacher-Student Relationship, Hogwarts Seventh Year, AU where Hermione and the boys are separated for the horcrux hunt, there you go that's the whole plot, PWP, Humiliation, chapters 1 through 6 are buildup for the actually explicit sections just so you know, tags will be updated as we go, Eventual Drarry, Masochism, Mutual Pining, stupid idiots are SO sure their feelings are one sided Language: English Stats: Published: 2023-08-02 Updated: 2024-07-30 Words: 48,570 Chapters: 14/?  Bound By Chains by Ryunna Summary An alternate seventh year. Hermione doesn't believe that Severus Snape is the loyal Death Eater everyone else sees him as. Even after killing Dumbledore, she's compelled to pursue him, find out why. Upon being captured by Voldemort, she is assigned to be watched over by... Headmaster Snape. Now, she's the only one that knows the truth about his plans. But being cooped up in Hogwarts with little to do shifts both of their priorities away from the war and towards each other. A healthy serving of plot, a less healthy serving of smut. Notes Hello and welcome, fresh off the heels of a far more tame fic comes... this! I've been working on Bound By Chains alongside my previous story and have been anticipating posting it for ages now. But I wanted to actually get to the meat and potatoes of the story before uploading anything- and finish writing Teacher's Pet. So here you go. If you saw the tags, you hopefully know what's in store, but a few additional things to preface: Aspects of the story as a whole may be unrealistic, as having a million events to juggle makes it difficult to justify mindless sex. So I've cut out some of the things that normally would be taking place during Deathly Hallows. Crookshanks is notably absent, we are all going to have to accept this fact, I really did not want to bring a cat into the mess. There will be a bit of a Draco redemption arc later on. Okay, preface done, let's get into it!  Chapter 1 Albus Dumbledore’s glistening eyes looked weary behind his glasses, though he tried to appear bright and aloof regardless. Years of knowing the old man, however, had rendered Severus immune to such deception. “You’re doing well,” the headmaster said with an insincere smile. “I know it’s painful, but you’ve accomplished much thus far. We’re close to the end now.” Snape gave a non-committal grunt in response, tightly crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his chin up. He wasn’t going to betray his own exhaustion, not now. “Rest,” Albus urged. He clenched his wrinkled hands atop his desk, one blackened in the telltale sign of his own end approaching rapidly. “We’ll need your strength come morning.” “Yes, you will,” Snape replied, keeping his voice as cruel and distant as he could. Determined to have the last word, he spun around in a dramatic billowing of robes to exit the headmaster’s office. Finally clear of Albus’ piercing gaze, his knees shook. With a near-sobbing breath in, Snape wiped a hand over his face, wishing he could kick and scream and cry. Even if he had that luxury, he’d been too thoroughly worn out to accomplish more than a whimper. It took every last ounce of energy he had left and then some to maintain a semblance of composure on his way back to the dungeon. He knew what he must do and why he had to do it. The vow Narcissa had bound him to condemned him, as did Dumbledore himself. There were no alternatives, no way to remain afloat; this was really and truly the beginning of the end. “Sir?” Icy malice rose through Snape’s lungs at the cracked whisper as he finally arrived in the musty underbelly of the school. “Yes, Malfoy?” he hissed through gritted teeth, staring the boy down from where he was waiting, a poorly-done Disillusionment charm hiding him from immediate view. “I don’t think I can do it,” his godson said, sounding as though he were a hair’s breadth from full-on hysteria. “He’s going to kill me, even if you finish–” Snape cut him off before the idiotic boy could reveal the entirety of their mission to a wide- open hallway. “Do not do anything stupid ,” he ground out. “We are both bound to the task at hand. There is nothing more to discuss.” Draco was holding his breath, anxiety and fear simply radiating from him in waves. As much as Severus wanted to appear firm and prepared, he couldn’t stop himself from faltering at the boy’s pain. This was as close to family as he had. “Wait right here,” the potions master said, easing up on the cruelty in his tone. Ducking into his office, he quickly emerged with a small vial in hand, holding it out. “Dreamless Sleep. It’s my own… twist on the remedy, however. You’ll find yourself hazy for the morning, but your terror will… abate.” The boy gratefully accepted the swirling blue potion, nodding slowly to his professor before backing away. It was clear this interaction had come to a close. If he hadn’t been so worn, so on edge, Snape may have realized that he and Draco were not alone for their brief discussion. For a far more skillfully crafted Disillusionment charm was hiding away yet another student, eyes wide as she waited for a chance to escape back to Gryffindor tower. — It was only when Dumbledore had been killed that the pieces slid into place. Hermione had been up all night upon witnessing Snape and Malfoy in the dungeon, unsure of what to make of what she’d heard. There was clearly a shared mission, something Draco was meant to accomplish with Snape acting as backup, but that information did little to aid in their cause. She was hesitant to share what she’d learned with Harry or Ron. They were foolhardy, headstrong, act-first-ask-later sorts, and that would be absolutely fatal if this situation were serious enough to turn Malfoy into a whimpering child. There was, of course, the other, far more influential factor holding her back. The motivation for Hermione creeping into Slytherin territory in the first place had been him. She’d wanted to see him, to perhaps lift some of the doubts swirling in her mind. She didn’t believe that Severus Snape was truly loyal to the Dark Lord, but her hunch wasn’t enough to make the boys trust in him as she did. This little tidbit would only worsen her position. Ever since their very first year, when she learned– much to her own humiliation– that Snape had been working to protect Harry from the sidelines, she’d formed a strange fondness for him. His presence, foreboding and intimidating, provided her a sense of comfort with the knowledge that he was on their side, working towards their goals. When that childhood admiration grew, she felt helpless against her friends’ doubts and insults towards him, knowing full well there was hardly a way to defend the poor man without drawing their ire in turn. Attempting to maintain that he was Professor Snape, rather than simply Snape, or “that greasy git”, or “evil bloody bat”, was about as far as she could go. And so, she had lain awake, knowing that by withholding what she’d seen, she was choosing Professor Snape over her friends. When Dumbledore was gone, she realized everything. “I knew he wasn’t to be trusted,” Ron said, eyes misty and fists clenched tight. “I just can’t believe Dumbledore’s actually– I didn’t really think he could be–” Harry nodded as his friend spoke, a blank expression paired with a thousand-yard stare showing that he’d completely shut down. The common room was in chaos, students panicked and confused after learning that their headmaster was no longer, which made it difficult for anyone to really focus. This was a time for mourning, for frustration, for… shutting down. “I’m going to find Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said just loud enough for her friends to hear. “I need to discuss with her what we’re to do now.” “Yeah,” Ron mumbled, unable to look up from the red common room carpet. “Do that, I s’pose.” The pain of abandoning her friends while they were hurting, added to her own despair upon losing Dumbledore, was causing Hermione to shake while she left the tower. It was starting to make sense, all of it, and she needed to talk to him. But he’d left, of course, not that it would stop her. She knew where they’d have gone. And so she followed. — The cries echoing through the Malfoy Manor were barely human, only recognizable as the spiritual culmination of agony. Severus Snape, kneeling with his head down, was just able to maintain the illusion of indifference thanks to his years of Occlumency as Draco writhed on the ground in front of him. “You are lucky , Draco, for my mercy,” the Dark Lord hissed, aiming a wand down at the boy, a sick grin plastered on his twisted face. “If not for my good mood, you would not have sssurvived this failure…” Out of the corner of his eye, Severus could see Narcissa with her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. Lucius had turned away entirely. “And you , Ssseverusss…” Voldemort finally released Draco from the Cruciatus curse, if not for a moment, to focus in on the man knelt before him. “Thanks to your undying loyalty, we emerged victoriousss … despite Draco’s disappointment. You have vanquished the greatessst threat to our dream of a new world… and for that, I shall reward you generously.” Not looking up, Snape cleared his throat. “I am truly grateful to have been of service, my lord,” he replied. “Though no reward is necessary beyond the furthering of your ultimate goal.” Voldemort was quite susceptible to such vapid praise, if just for the pleasure of making great witches and wizards prostrate themselves before him. His wicked smile curved up further as he gently raked his talon-like fingers over his pasty flesh. “Yesss… I’d thought as much from you, my faithful ssservant…” he started. “However, thisss reward is also a vital part in our mission.” “I am yours to command, my lord,” Severus said. “You shall take up the mantle of my fallen foe as headmassster , Severusss, ensuring Hogwarts is run to our… ssspecifications,” Voldemort said. With a wave of his hand, Nagini slithered up from behind his throne, entwining herself around his arm. He proceeded to delicately stroke her head in such a way that one could almost convince themselves the man had some spark of love left in his shriveled heart. “It shall be done.” Snape had known this was the next step once Dumbledore was out of the picture, though he did not consider it to be any kind of reward. In fact, the idea made him sick to his stomach. “My lord, I hate to interrupt,” Dolohov said, appearing from a side entrance. “But it seems we have a surprise guest!” The girl he held by her tightly curled hair struggled in his grasp, attempting to shout though sound would not leave her lips. Finally allowing himself to look up from the floorboards, Snape’s blood ran cold; what in Merlin’s name was Granger doing here?! This was going tits-up faster than he could possibly account for. “Ah… thisss is one of Potter’s beloved … sycophants,” Voldemort said as Hermione was dragged closer by a wild-eyed Dolohov. The room broke out into snickers and jeers, his Death Eaters unable to recognize the irony. Despite the silencing charm, Hermione continued mouthing obscenities all the while, pure fury in her wide eyes. It was impressive; she was likely moments from death, yet she showed no fear. Severus couldn’t help but respect her tenacity. “Shall we make it slow and agonizing?” Bellatrix, situated by the throne as per usual, shrieked in exuberance. “Allow Potter to witness the gnarled remains of his little mudblood bitch?” Voldemort smiled down at the crazed woman as though she were a treasured pet. “On a less celebratory occasion, I’d take your sssuggestion, Bella,” he crooned. “But I’m feeling rather generous today. Her fate… I shall leave in your hands, Ssseverus!” The hopelessness that had been gripping Snape’s throat transformed instantaneously into ideas, plans, potential outcomes. He raised his head to look up at Hermione, still in Dolohov’s clutch. “I do not believe she is of much use to us dead, unfortunately,” he drawled with as much indifference as he could muster. His godson was still twitching on the floor, breathing fitfully as he rode out the after-effects of Voldemort’s ire. “Is that ssso?” The Dark Lord, if he had eyebrows, would’ve raised them as he looked down at his subject with mild amusement. “We can either revel in her admittedly satisfying demise,” Snape continued, not meeting the girl’s eyes. “Or we can use her more… strategically. Potter will no doubt agree to any conditions we set in order to preserve her pathetic existence, whereas we toss away our potential for negotiations once she’s… dispatched.” Voldemort nodded, petting Nagini once more. “You raise a worthwhile argument,” he said. “And, as I’ve promisssed her fate to you, what, then, would you sssuggest is done with the girl?” The most important thing, Snape knew, was time. If he could buy the Order time, buy Potter time, they may yet manage to escape with their lives. How could he reasonably convince Voldemort to hold off on any drastic measures? “We are still building our strength, my lord,” he said as an idea formed behind his coal-black eyes. “I propose we keep her in Hogwarts. Make it clear to Potter that her life is forfeit the moment he attempts to come anywhere near the school… before we’re ready to receive him, of course.” “Why not simply force him to come to us now? Alone, he isss hardly a threat,” Voldemort replied. “My lord, the moment a demand reaches Potter’s ears, the entire Order will know of it, as well,” Snape said. “Even if he were to believe himself alone, they will follow. It is not a risk we should take… not while we remain unprepared.” Nodding, the Dark Lord rose from his throne and allowed the vile snake to leave his arm. “Yesss, you would know of the Order’s potential against our own,” he replied. He walked towards Severus, stepping over the curled-up ball that was Draco Malfoy without an ounce of thought. Finally standing right before his servant, he bid the man rise. Slowly, Snape stood, keeping his shoulders hunched to appear shorter than his master, looking just below his eyes. “Dolohov,” Voldemort barked, still staring at Snape. “Leave her to us.” “Yes, my lord.” A few seconds later, Hermione was tossed to the ground between them, her eyes still burning with rage. “Bring her to Hogwartsss,” the Dark Lord said. “She shall be your… trinket, let’s say, until the time comes.” More laughter filled the room. Severus forced a sly grin onto his face, glancing down at Hermione as though he actually desired any sort of human “trinket” at all, then bowed before his master. “I humbly thank you for your generosity,” he said. “Shall I return to the school tonight?” “There isss much work to be done,” Voldemort replied. “Go, now, and make your new headmaster’s quarters fit your… needs. Alecto! Amycus!” The siblings appeared from the crowd of cloaked figures, anxiously awaiting direction. “There are going to be sssome… changes … in the Hogwartsss curriculum,” their master said with his familiar, sickening grin. “And I would like you both to act as Ssseverus’ Deputy Headmasters while you take up your new rolesss as Muggle Studies” –shouts and hoots filled the air at that– “and Defense againssst the Dark Arts professors.” The Carrows shared looks before bowing deeply, murmuring their gratitude and promising to do their best. With that, Voldemort appeared bored, tired of the topic entirely, and waved his bony hand at Hogwarts’ new management. “Off with you all!” he cried. “There are celebrations to be had!” The last thing Severus heard as he took Hermione in his arms was the gleeful shouts of Death Eaters throughout the Malfoy Manor. He flew into the night, a heaviness settling upon him like he’d never known before.  Chapter 2 Dumbledore’s desk, a grave reminder, seemed like the lid of a coffin. The headmaster’s eclectic office would need to be… dealt with, though where to begin was the real challenge. Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio, sat crumpled in a corner, sobbing her eyes out. Normally, Snape wouldn’t hesitate to snap at the girl, to sneer at her display of weaknes, but not then. He wished he could cry as she did, so openly, without holding anything back. Years of maintaining Occlumency shields had locked him away from such emotional release. Instead, he transformed a couple chairs into something a bit more suitable for Headmaster Snape; emerald green wingbacks facing the unlit fireplace. “Miss Granger,” he said, quiet but firm. “If you could, take a seat while I prepare some tea.” He was waiting for her to lash out, to accuse him of all the things Voldemort believed him to be, but she said nothing. Instead, she wiped the sleeve of her robes over her eyes and blinked. Seeing the chairs, she rose on shaky knees and relocated cautiously. For some odd reason, Severus thought, she appeared to trust him. “How do you take yours?” he asked a few minutes later. Hermione still said nothing, though this did not surprise him. The girl was likely in shock. With a stifled sigh, he added a touch of sugar and milk to both his and her bone china cups. “I’d imagine you have many questions,” he said, not intending to sound quite as dry and sarcastic as he did. Hermione didn’t react, though when passed the cup and saucer, she held them in unsteady hands. She could clearly use a few more moments to gather herself, Snape realized. Placing his own saucer on a small table, he began warding the room, preventing anyone from overhearing any discussions held there, as well as protecting it from uninvited guests. There would be no ridiculous sweets passcode to enter this office. Once finished, he sat in the chair adjacent to Hermione’s. “I’m not your enemy,” he said. It was as good a place to start as any. “I know, sir.” Her quiet, hoarse response surprised him more than anything else he’d witnessed that day. She knew. Was she not aware that he’d killed her beloved Professor Dumbledore? “And how is that?” he asked. “I… I had a feeling,” she said, staring down at her tea. “You’ve been too devoted to Harry’s safety for years to suddenly abandon him.” Devoted to Potter? Snape wanted to laugh at the suggestion. What a childish interpretation of his actions! Though, given how little she saw of the full picture, it was… an excusable blunder. “Well, that’s an interesting assessment,” he sneered, still incapable of any fondness towards the boy-who-lived. “I would like you to know that Dumbledore was cursed long before yesterday. His death was at my hands because he’d commanded it be so.” Hermione slowly raised her gaze to meet her professor’s cold, dark eyes. “I assumed he’d told you to do it,” she said. “Though I thought it was to protect Malfoy.” The girl continued to surprise him with her foresight, though Snape refused to let it show. “You aren’t entirely mistaken,” he replied. “Dumbledore refused to allow the boy to be responsible for such a devastating act. It was my job, both in service to the Order and to Draco’s family, to take on the task.” “You must care for him,” Hermione commented softly. Snape did not reply. The two sipped their tea, staring at the empty fireplace, simply allowing the events of that day to sink in. There was not much to be said, not until they’d both recovered some of their strength, had something to eat, perhaps a strong drink or two. “I’ll prepare a room for you.” Snape broke the silence some eternity later, standing from the chair and sending his empty cup away with a wave of his hand. “You’ll be unable to leave it for any duration of time, I’m afraid. Whatever comforts you require, I shall grant them. Within reason.” Her professor’s sudden softness was jarring. Hermione watched as Snape murmured unintelligibly to a wall, hands behind his back. A moment later, the bricks shifted and a wooden door with a large iron bar appeared, the sounds of creaking and crumbling echoing from behind it. “Did… the castle listen to your request?” Hermione asked, staring at Professor Snape in awe. “I am the new headmaster,” he replied, as though the question were ridiculous. Non-verbally casting some spell to unlock the door, Snape pushed it open and cocked an eyebrow towards Hermione as if to say are you coming or not? Her legs still shook as she walked, but it wasn’t the same treacherous task as it had been upon entering the castle. Hermione followed Snape into the new room and was surprised by how… comfortable it seemed. A familiar red-curtained four-poster bed, her trunk sitting atop the freshly-made sheets, had a large wooden chest at the foot. A wardrobe sat pressed flush to the wall, a small window next to it revealing the light of the waxing moon. There was even a bookshelf. “That window will not allow others to see in,” Snape said as she marvelled at the small space. “And through that door is your lavatory.” Hermione turned to see another door to her left, nowhere near as intimidating as the barred- off door leading inside. “Thank you, Professor,” she said. “I… I’m confused, I suppose, on what is to happen with… well, me.” Snape sighed, having wanted to avoid discussing this for as long as he possibly could. “The Dark Lord is going to assume I am… using you for my own personal satisfaction,” he said, each word causing bile to rise higher in his throat. “I, of course, will do no such thing. But I– we will also be under close watch of the Carrows. So I must make a convincing… display.” “What… does that entail, exactly?” Hermione didn’t look half as reproachful as Severus had been expecting. “You will be forbidden from speaking in the presence of others, given fake bruises and cuts, and dressed in demeaning clothing,” Snape said. “A collar with a chain, to maintain the illusion of–” “I think I understand,” the girl replied quickly, cutting him off. Severus wasn’t going to complain about not finishing that thought aloud. “And… I trust you, sir. Um, if there were a way for me to tell Harry I’m alright…” “If such correspondence left this space, the Dark Lord would hear of it,” Snape responded. “It’s imperative for your friends to be unaware of your condition, at least for the time being. I will be doing everything in my power to guide them, to keep them out of harm’s way. That, I can promise you.” She nodded, seeing that he had a point. There wasn’t a reason to fight on this matter, though she desperately longed to let Harry and Ron rest easy in her absence. There was too much at stake. “Is there anything I can do to… to help, sir?” she asked instead, pulling at her fingers nervously. “At the moment? Play along,” he replied with a bitter smile. “Appear disgusted by my presence, afraid of my touch. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult a task.” Hermione wanted to assure the man that he wasn’t actually as revolting as people liked to claim, but it felt inappropriate, somehow. Instead she looked down at her feet; there had to be something else she could do. “We may discuss further another time,” Snape said, as if reading her thoughts. “For now, it is imperative we rest. Your room will be warded shut; you may not exit, and I nor anyone else may enter.” “I appreciate the privacy, sir,” Hermione said. “One final thing…” Snape glanced at her arm. “I’ll need to keep your wand.” Hermione felt her gut fall out her arse. “What?” she asked in a shrill voice. “Why in Merlin’s name would that be necessary?” “To be frank, Miss Granger, it is to ensure you do not attempt anything reckless,” her professor replied, wiping his face and exhaling. “And if my… colleagues were to see that I’m not in possession of it, my loyalty would be in question.” “Why not transfigure some replica to keep with you? I swear I won’t be sending out Patronus charms to my friends, nor will I be planning a grand escape,” she pleaded. “You may trust me,” Snape said, staring her down. “But I cannot trust you. Your wand.” He held out his hand. “This isn’t fair,” Hermione said, removing the sticking charm that held her vine wand to her wrist within her robe. “Why can’t you trust me?” Snape’s patience and empathy were running thin. He’d been more than accommodating ever since she got herself into this mess, and he was in no mood to argue. “You went to the Malfoy estate, alone and without a plan, nearly resulting in your own demise not twelve hours ago. Forgive me, Miss Granger, if I have doubts regarding the quality of your judgement,” he sneered, closing the distance between them and staring her down. “Your wand. Now. ” Looking back up at the potions master with unbridled resentment, Hermione firmly placed her wand in his hand before storming into her temporary prison without another word. Once the heavy door had closed with a satisfying slam, Snape sank into his transfigured chair and closed his eyes tight. How the hell would Potter manage to outwit the Dark Lord with the only functioning clump of brain cells at his disposal now locked away, unable to reach out? It would be a miracle for the boy to survive a month. — The bed was obnoxiously comfortable, Hermione thought as she lay face down upon it, trying to cultivate her anger towards Snape. He hadn’t been wrong. It wasn’t her best move, thinking the Malfoys wouldn’t be difficult to slip past, not realizing the Dark bloody Lord was taking up residence in their home. But she was trustworthy. What blunder could she possibly commit within the confines of this bloody room, even with a wand? She groaned, kicking against the plush mattress in weak protest. No more hair-taming charm. No more acne treatment charm. No more period cramp relief charm. What was the point of being inside of magic school and not being able to fucking use magic? Like hell she’d ask Snape to cast those spells for her, either. Why was it she had to find him so… so… interesting? He was an enigma and, beneath his cold veneer, she was convinced there was a wonderful, powerful man. Ever since he’d thrown himself between her, Harry, and Professor Lupin during their third year, she’d been sure he wasn’t the evil, unfeeling bastard everyone believed him to be. Now, closer to seeing his true nature than ever before, she felt so hopelessly distant from everything she held dear. Was she in more or less danger in her current predicament than with Harry? What about Professor Snape? Voldemort had seemed to trust him fully, but Snape himself seemed sure that the Carrows would be casting suspicion his way at any opportunity. There were too many things to consider and her head still ached from Dolohov’s merciless pulling at her scalp. Too tired to cry anymore, she curled up atop her blankets and fell asleep.  Chapter 3 He’d been expecting the loathing stares, of course. He’d tried to brace himself for the outrage, but how could he, really? Students had been sent home for summer at this point, leaving the castle empty… besides the staff. Minerva, Filius, Pomona, they all looked at him with contempt and hatred any moment he was unlucky enough to meet their eyes. And the whole time, he had to play the part. He had to be the villain from now until… Merlin knew how long it would take Potter to face down Voldemort without Granger. Granger, of course, being the only person alive who could know his true intentions. They’d established a routine during the past week that was acceptable. When Severus wasn’t otherwise occupied, he’d allow Hermione her wand– under direct supervision– and he’d have a house elf bring meals for the both of them. Other times, she’d practice wandless magic alone in her room, reading anything she could get her hands on, and, of course, worrying. “I’m useless,” she said one evening while Snape was sitting nearby, partway through a muggle-written fiction. “I would much prefer that to be the reality,” the professor replied, not looking up. “Considering your usefulness is what makes this situation so much worse for the Order.” She glared at him, even though he couldn’t see. “I’m useless to the Order right now ,” she said, his pedanticism as irritating as ever. “I want to do something. Anything.” “As do I.” Snape’s resignation made her heart sink. Was that it, then? They were going to spend the entire summer sulking in Dumbledore’s office, praying for Harry Potter to stumble across the secret to killing Voldemort? “You must know something of use,” she said, not caring how disrespectful she sounded. Being in close proximity to Severus Snape had robbed him of his overwhelming intimidation. “I should hope I do, Miss Granger,” he said, finally looking up from the novel so she could witness the entirety of his sneer. “And I should hope you know, better than anyone, to trust when I say this; our job is to stall , which is as useful as we can be without revealing our position.” “What about horcruxes?” Snape quite nearly dropped his tea. She knew about that, then? He should’ve suspected that Dumbledore would’ve roped Potter into their fruitless hunt for Tom Riddle’s fractured soul, and yet, it still took him by surprise to hear her say it. “Yes, there is the matter of horcruxes,” he said, raising an eyebrow and staring the girl down. “What do you propose we do to unearth horcruxes from directly underneath the Dark Lord’s nose?” “Nose?” He couldn’t help crack a smirk at that. “I suspect you understood the metaphor, regardless of the Dark Lord’s lack of protruding conk,” he replied dryly. “The question remains.” “Well, according to what Dumbledore told Harry, Voldemort most likely made objects of significance to the Hogwarts houses into horcruxes, such as the Hufflepuff cup and Salazar’s locket,” Hermione explained. “That’s his suspicion, at the least.” Snape’s lip turned up. Dumbledore, of course, hadn’t felt he was worthy of such information, but instead a sixteen year old boy and his friends. How like him. “And you think he’d be arrogant enough to leave the very anchors of his immortality lying around the school?” he asked, the snideness in his voice not really directed towards Granger. “Well, sir, I’m certain there’s something we can learn of those objects if we try,” Hermione replied. “Wouldn’t you agree it’s at least worth a try?” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, considering everything he knew and the circumstances surrounding them. “If the Carrows catch wind of you or I showing great interest in Hogwarts’ artefacts, I can assure you the Dark Lord would have us killed faster than you can say bugger ,” he told Hermione. “Which is to say, our methods will have to be quite precise… if we do, that is.” His marginal relentment put a wide smile on Hermione’s face, which he found rather irritating. She’d already considered this to be her victory. Regardless, her idea had merit. Sitting on his hands wasn’t going to further their cause, after all, and Hermione was quite the persistent bookworm. Even if it was marginal, they may be able to do something yet. With a sigh, Snape rubbed his brow. “I’ll have a talk with Madam Pince,” he said. “Even if we can’t be researching, I can have her select reading material so you don’t die of boredom. I’ve seen you rereading two separate novels of yours already.” “Well, Dumbledore’s– I mean, this office has a lot of books, I’m sure there must be something I could learn here,” Hermione replied. “And they’d contain things the library doesn’t.” This office. Dumbledore’s office. What was the difference? It would never be his; he didn’t want it to be. The idea of changing its eccentric layout more than necessary for practical use made Severus sick to his stomach. The portraits on nearby walls stared down at him, and he thought bitterly how there wouldn’t be any good excuse to have Albus added to their ranks until this all ended. How he hated that man. Hated and loved in equal, intense measure. “I have no qualms with you perusing Professor Dumbledore’s collection,” Snape said in an even tone, suppressing the grief and self-loathing that had overcome him. “What about you, though, sir?” Hermione blinked slowly, sweeping the office with her eyes. “There’s quite a bit to work through, I’d say, and time is of the essence. Will you be researching, too?” “As much as the suggestion appeals to me, Miss Granger, it’s unlikely I’ll have the spare time or energy for such activities once we get closer to the semester beginning,” Snape replied with a slight sneer. “You may, of course, tell me of your findings… only if they’re of actual importance, obviously.” “Of course, sir. Obviously.” Snape cocked an eyebrow. Hermione had been taking that sarcastic tone with him more frequently the past few days; perhaps he’d let her feel too comfortable in his presence. “I’d appreciate if you took my directions seriously,” he said with a stern and disapproving voice. Immediately, Granger began to shrink back; good. “I understand these circumstances are not ideal. Do you presume I want to be where we are at the moment? I’ve spent the past twenty years playing this elaborate game with the Dark Lord and the Order, and I expect some degree of patience from even you. Would you agree that this is a reasonable request, Miss Granger?” The girl looked angry and sad, hurt and humbled. “Yes, sir.” The indignance he’d received earlier had all but vanished now. This was what he’d wanted, yet it didn’t feel quite as satisfying as he’d hoped. Perhaps because he knew all too well where she was coming from. “I shall call for dinner,” Snape said without the same steadfast iciness as before. “And it would perhaps do you some good to know how Professor Dumbledore’s library is organized, therefore I’ll create a rudimentary guide sometime.” Hermione seemed to understand that he didn’t harbour any genuine resentment, despite his general harshness. She perked up, smiling and nodding deeply. “Thank you.” — “What do you think, Sev?” Amycus asked with a grin. Snape had been looking over his ideal curriculum for Defence Against the Dark Arts, which had very little to do with defence anymore. It did, however, suit Lord Voldemort’s doctrine. “I think the Unforgivables should be more heavily focused on,” he said, using boredom to mask his disgust. “Otherwise, it seems perfectly acceptable. You ought to begin preparing actual lessons.” Amycus was pleased with this, it appeared. He took back the sheets of parchment. “Yes, you’re right, there really should be more time dedicated to practising and demonstrating those curses,” he said. “Seeing as most of these students were told to never even discuss them prior. Wouldn’t want the graduates to be weaklings, now, would we?” “Indeed,” Snape replied. “Before I go, I wanted to ask how you were doing with the little mudblood.” Severus had to suppress a wince. “She’s not very agreeable ,” he responded, tilting his chin up. “But I, of course, have no trouble working around that.” The gleeful chuckle from Amycus was both a relief and condemnation. Simply implying he’d been doing such things to his own student was enough to magnify his already impressive self-loathing, worsened still by the knowledge that Granger herself would be looked at as though it were all true. “You’re enjoying yourself, then?” Amycus asked. “...You could say that.” Thankfully, that seemed to be the end to their little conversation. Amycus left the office and Snape leaned back in his transfigured armchair, sighing as he mentally apologized to Hermione. Not that he’d ever do so to her face. Once he was sure no one else would be paying him office visits, Severus allowed Granger out of her room to go through Dumbledore’s shelves for a while. She wouldn’t have been able to hear the discussion, thanks to the wards he’d had the foresight to put in place, but there was still a deep sense of shame. “Professor, I had a question,” Hermione said almost immediately upon him opening her door. “What a surprise,” he mumbled. “What is it, then?” “You haven’t had me… be seen by the Carrows, or anyone else, for that matter, in the past two weeks. Which I’m quite grateful for, I might add,” the girl started, picking at the edge of her nail. “But I… I wanted to know when I should expect to be… to need to…” “Ah.” It was a question he’d anticipated. Of course the girl wanted to know when she’d be dressed up and put on display, an object of mockery. “Not until the semester begins, if I can help it,” Snape replied quietly. “Whenever I, myself, must be present for meals in the Great Hall or staff meetings, I may be expected to have you in tow. I aim not to spring such a thing upon you abruptly.” “Thank you, that’s… that’s all I wanted to know,” Hermione said. She stared down at her slippers, a fuzzy pair she’d had Snape transfigure for her to combat the cool flooring in her room. “I highly doubt that,” Snape replied, smirking. “Find yourself some books, Miss Granger. Lunch will be prepared soon.” — Unfortunately, Severus wasn’t able to stall very long. Within a week, Amycus had requested a formal staff gathering as a way of “breaking the ice” between old and new professors, which was really a thinly veiled way to intimidate those still loyal to the Light. “You’ll have to bring the little bitch with you,” he’d said with a snicker. “I can’t wait to see the look on McGonagall's face!” Snape had a difficult time telling Hermione. “There’s something… a function this weekend,” he said on Thursday evening during their constitutional reading time. Hermione, who had been getting through one or even two books per day, put down her latest read to hear him out. “A function?” she asked. “Yes. A… staff party of sorts. You will need to be in attendance.” “...Oh.” There was an awkward, tense silence. Neither had been expecting to prepare for such an occasion quite so soon. “Shall we discuss what is expected of you perhaps tomorrow around tea time?” Severus said, adjusting the collar of his robes. “Or would another time be preferable?” “We can talk about it now,” Hermione replied. “Are you sure?” She nodded, her face flushing a little. “It’s alright,” Hermione said. “I brought it on myself, really… No use putting it off.” “Mistakes happen, Miss Granger, this is not a warranted or even predictable consequence. Don’t blame yourself; that won’t do any good, either,” Snape responded with surprising softness. “I’ll prepare some… outfit options. And believe me when I say this is just as, if not more uncomfortable for me as it is for you.” She didn’t doubt that. Hermione would never admit it, of course, but the prospect of being dressed in such a way was strangely exhilarating. She wanted to know how it would feel, how she would look– but being seen in that state by others? With Professor Snape, she… didn’t really mind. If her other professors and, Merlin forbid, classmates saw her like that, of course she’d be humiliated. But she rather liked the idea, deep down at least, of Snape picking out some kind of demeaning outfit for her. Those thoughts she kept under wraps, trying not to fixate on any sort of untoward feelings. Their situation was a matter of life and death; no time for hormone-driven fantasies. Hermione waited in the office while Severus ducked away into his personal chambers. Since they’d begun living in the headmaster’s space, Hermione had been curious about her professor’s bedroom and how much space he had, if he’d left it however Dumbledore had decorated it, but she knew better than to pry. Not long later, he emerged. “Three colours, three styles,” Snape said, fabric thrown over his arm. “They can be changed around accordingly.” Hermione sat and watched as he waved his wand, causing the articles to display in the air between them as though on floating, invisible mannequins. Oh, dear. The first, green of course, was a short, simple nightdress. Form fitting without being sheer, though it would barely cover her arse due to the length. That, Hermione figured, was sort of the point. The second was a lacy silver negligee, more loosely fitted but also more revealing. It had a very low, V-shaped neckline. Her final option was black with a subtle rose patterning on the fabric. Again, it was short and revealing, but the bottom hem was elastic and hugged against the legs, which prevented it from accidentally showing more than necessary. “I think the black one is most suitable,” Hermione said. “Though I think I’d prefer its style in green.” Snape was somewhat surprised at how intently she’d looked over the three choices, as though genuinely picking them out at a shop to wear casually. There wasn’t the total embarrassment and hesitation that he’d anticipated. “I’ll make that adjustment, then allow you to try on the garment. If you think any further changes should be made, we can discuss,” he said, plucking the clothes out of the air. With a murmured spell, the black night gown was now green. He walked back over to Hermione, handed it to her, then turned around. “You may change in your room and simply let me know if you feel it’s presentable enough,” he said. “If you’re alright changing here, I won’t look.” Hermione debated stripping down right behind Snape’s back, but her nerves got to her. With a mumbled “thank you”, she went back into her room. Deep breaths in and out. She felt, shamefully, quite excited to see how the night gown looked on her. After taking a quick moment to strip down to her knickers, she pulled the gown over her head, resulting in her hair becoming very static-y and poofy. “ Bugger ,” she whispered, trying to smooth her hair back down. If she had her bloody wand … With a sigh, she shook her head and tried to ignore the mess of curls surrounding it. Adjusting the gown, Hermione looked in the standing mirror by her bed; well, there she was. Her face went completely red as she looked herself up and down. It was nice. She felt… cute. She liked feeling cute. The fabric hung off her chest in a flattering way and gently curved down her back, all coming together at the elastic hem. Her legs, mostly uncovered, were suited rather well by the dress’ length, appearing longer and more willowy. Nervously, Hermione stepped out of her room. “I’m fine with it as is, sir,” she said. Snape was still standing with his back to the door and did not turn around just yet. “That’s only one part of the… uniform, unfortunately,” he said. “I may need to help you with the second.” “A-alright, then.” Slowly, Severus turned his head, followed then by his shoulders as he faced Hermione in the night gown. Merlin, if he hadn’t been policing his emotions and reactions for years, he was sure he would have made such a fool of himself right then; she looked gorgeous. It wasn’t right of him to think so, and he knew that, but it was hard to deny that she was a beautiful young woman in a very flattering, very revealing outfit. No hot-blooded man could pretend otherwise. As far as Hermione could tell, though, he appeared unaffected. Straight faced as always. She ignored the feeling of disappointment in her gut. “It’s… comfortable enough, then?” Snape said after a moment of total silence. She nodded and looked down at her legs, then back up to her professor. “What’s the second part?” she asked. Clearing his throat, Snape retrieved something from his cluttered desk; a set of… belts? With chains? “It will likely be easier if I put these on you, though if you’d prefer to try yourself, I won’t deny you that,” he said, holding the chains and dark brown leather out. Hermione frowned. She had no idea where to start with… whatever that was. “I don’t mind you doing so, Professor,” she said. Snape paused before replying. “Very well then.” He stepped towards Hermione, moving until he was barely two inches away. Merlin, the man was tall, she thought with embarrassment. Was she really this tiny? His hand, warm and gentle, lifted her chin. “Stay still for a moment,” Snape murmured as he fiddled with the chains. Hermione obliged despite her jitters. It took a minute of wrestling with her hair for Severus to attach the leather collar around Hermione’s neck. Once it was in place, adjusted accordingly, he took a step back. “Not too tight?” he asked, tamping down the inappropriate feelings that seeing her in this state evoked. Hermione shook her head, her face beet red. “Good. Hold out your hands for me.” She did as asked. It was much quicker and easier to fasten the wrist cuffs in place. Severus tightened them to ensure there was no way she could feasibly slip out, even though that wasn’t truly of concern. He doubted she’d be trying that anytime soon. Once the cuffs were secured, he took the chains and magically attached each wrist to her collar with a relatively manoeuvrable amount of leeway. Then, Snape put the lead onto the collar’s chain link as well. “That should do it,” he said, stepping fully away from her now. It was getting hard– difficult to distract himself from how much the ensemble suited her. Snape looked at the portrait of some long-dead wizard on the wall behind Hermione while mentally reciting the ingredient list for Blood Replenishers. “This isn’t so bad, really,” Hermione said, moving her hands around to figure out just how far she could still reach. “How do I look?... Sorry, that was a joke. Please don’t answer.” Good, I don’t think you’d like the truth , Snape thought to himself, ashamed. “When the time does come, I’ll give you some glamours that have the appearance of bruising and skin irritation around the cuffs. That will make it seem as though you’re actually being restrained regularly,” he explained. “For now, that will do. You may keep the, er, outfit in your room, though I understand if you’d prefer I hold onto them.” “I don’t mind.” Hermione went to scratch an itch on her leg, only to realize she couldn’t reach without bending over. “Now we’ve gotten that out of the way, at least.” “Yes, I suppose so.” After a tense moment, Severus realized she couldn’t actually undo her own restraints. He strode back over to Hermione and released the charmed bindings on the collar and cuffs. “Your time is now your own,” he said gruffly. “I have things of my own to attend to now, so we shall have to call it an early night.” “Oh, alright,” Hermione replied, fiddling with the chains on her cuffs. “Good night, sir. And… if it makes you feel any better, I’m not uncomfortable around you. I trust– I know you’re doing all you can.” With a single, slow blink, Snape nodded in acknowledgement. “You are as well, Miss Granger,” he said. Without giving her a chance to reply, he disappeared into his chambers with a faint rustle of robes.  Chapter 4 Merlin, what was wrong with him? Snape sat on the edge of his king-sized bed, elbows resting on his knees. The image of Hermione done up in chains was plastered to the backs of his eyelids and he was trying– fruitlessly – to put it out of his mind. He could just imagine Amycus’ leering glares and tasteless comments. It made him furious to imagine Hermione being displayed like that for all to see; an anger he knew he hadn’t earned. But it had to be this way. If she was done up to a lesser degree, the Carrows would ask why; they were aware he had… specific tastes… from his younger years in the Death Eater ranks. How he wished he could take that all back to spare her from this humiliation. In the past little while of living in close proximity, he’d grown to appreciate her ability to be silent, something not typically demonstrated during his lectures. Truth was, Hermione simply sat and thought fairly often, or read quietly, or practised spells under her breath as to not disturb him. Her ability to conduct wandless magic was improving rapidly as well, which he had to admit was impressive. Not to mention her dedication to researching anything and everything she could find that was tangentially related to horcruxes. It was simply natural, he’d been trying to convince himself, that he observed her so closely when they were so frequently alone together. It’s not like she didn’t do the same. He’d noticed her glancing his way when she thought he wasn’t watching, just following his mundane everyday behaviours. The silent exchange was sort of like a game they played. Two lone animals sharing territory, watching one another with curiosity. And here he was, dressing her up like a sex toy. Not even just that– like she was his sex toy. It was a cruel joke on the both of them. Why couldn’t she have looked more disgusted by everything? If it wasn't for that inquisitive, trusting glean in her eyes… Severus wiped both hands down his face, shaking his head. No more fixating. With well- practised Occluding, he shut Hermione out of his mind. — She couldn't take it off quite yet. Hermione looked in her mirror, having put the collar back on with its non-magical buckle, and just… took it in. Snape would be leading her around by this chain, she considered, like a dog on a leash. That idea in and of itself made her lower belly flutter and heat up. Him in those long robes and dark eyes, tugging at her neck, parading her around… Quickly, Hermione pulled the collar off again. She needed to stop thinking about this. The more it excited her, the more disgusted she became with herself. This situation was serious. She’d need to be acting accordingly and not give Professor Snape’s true allegiance away. It wasn’t the time to be… playing dress-up. Shamefully, she replaced the night gown with her fleece pyjamas. It was too nice to simply fold up and toss onto her chair, so Hermione put it on a coathanger and hung it from her bed’s curtain rod. I wonder if he likes that I chose Slytherin green? she wondered subconsciously, then squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t important. He wouldn’t be thinking about ridiculous things like that, he’d be worrying for their lives. Just like she should be. Forcing herself to think instead about her reading from earlier that day, Hermione tucked into bed. Her dreams, however, didn’t get the memo. That warm hand, pulling on her chin, tipping her face up so she could meet those dark eyes. A cocked eyebrow, the hint of a sneer, a glance up and down. Dream-Snape took full account of her appearance and then smirked. His grip on her chin didn’t falter. He leaned over and kissed her forcefully, biting at her bottom lip before withdrawing. Suddenly, she could feel the collar around her neck being tugged. He was leading her into his room. Right as the door opened, however, the dream changed. She was back in Malfoy Manor. Dolohov had the leash in his hand and was grinning at her with terrifying glee. More and more faces appeared around her, staring at her where she was sprawled on the ground, tears streaming helplessly down her face. No , she didn’t want to be seen crying, she didn’t want them to see her like this – Professore Snape was nowhere to be found, either. She couldn’t even take comfort in his presence. “The mudblood whore seems to be enjoying herself,” Dolohov exclaimed, pulling at her leash hard enough to make her choke. “If only Harry Potter could see her now!” Harry! She cried out mentally. Harry, Ron, please… Hermione’s eyes flew open. She was still in her room in Hogwarts, lying in the dark on her comfortable bed, no collar around her neck. Just to be sure, though, she felt her throat with her hand and swallowed. A part of her wanted to get up, go knock on Professor Snape’s door, ask if they could stay up a while longer with some more tea. But she couldn’t leave this room to do so. Instead, Hermione exhaled deeply, staring up and trying to focus on something else. Anything else. A memory surfaced, one she went back to frequently, of her and the boys in the common room playing exploding snap with Ron’s brothers. They laughed and joked by the fire, everything feeling so… normal. The return of Voldemort wasn’t looming over them then. Their biggest concern was finishing assignments on time. How she missed assignments. Having schoolwork to motivate her, to put her mind to. It was something solid and simple, unlike her current attempt to unearth something of note regarding horcruxes, and she’d always felt so self-assured. Right now she was lost. The boys were probably even more lost. More than anything, she missed them. Her best friends in the world, the people who were always there for her, the ones she’d do anything and everything for. That’s why she was researching, though. That’s why she had to rest now and do as Professor Snape said. If this bloody mess resulted in some sense of direction, some lead as to the defeat of Voldemort, then it would all have been worth it. With that thought in mind, Hermione finally found herself able to drift back off to sleep. — Severus stared at the pile of unopened letters atop the office’s desk. He knew well what most of them were; parents informing the school that their child, despite Voldemort hand-picking them, would not be attending that fall. He was glad for it, though. The more students that remained with their families rather than coming to Hogwarts, the better. But he wasn’t meant to feel relief at this news, of course, and he’d have to relay to the Dark Lord that the enrolment wasn’t looking very good. If he could have one of the Carrows deliver that information in his stead, maybe they’d receive the inevitable punishment, sparing him. But no; this is what being Headmaster meant. “I’m afraid you’ll be left to your own devices for today,” Snape said after he and Hermione had finished their breakfasts. “I must meet with the Dark Lord. I… expect this meeting will not go well. The house elves are already aware they shall be delivering your lunch and supper to your room rather than the office.” “You’ll be alright, though?” Hermione asked, eyes wide. Snape blinked a few times, surprised by her show of genuine concern. Her first thought wasn’t to her lack of access to Dumbledore’s library for the day; it was for him. “By tomorrow afternoon at the latest, I will be back to form,” he replied stiffly. “Back to… what do you mean?” She continued looking at him with worry. “Will you be injured?” “The Dark Lord may torture me, yes,” Snape said. His own gaze fell, unable to stomach her fear on his behalf. If only she knew just how routine this sort of thing had become for him. “But why?” Hermione asked. Her voice was tinged with that righteous indignance so typical of Gryffindors. It wasn’t directed at him, though– it was indignance for him. “There needn’t be much of a reason for Voldemort to take out his frustrations on his servants,” he said. “When I see him today, I’ll be telling him some news he may not be too pleased to hear. You see, Tom Riddle never cared much for the old adage, ‘don’t shoot the messenger’.” “That’s ridiculous! Why would anyone remain loyal to him when they’re treated like that?” Hermione demanded. “You already know the answer, Miss Granger.” And she did. It was fear , a most powerful motivator. The only thing Voldemort understood. “How is it you recover from being… tortured?” she asked quietly. “When– when Draco had been– he couldn’t move.” Snape sighed, his shoulders sagging. He looked up at a shelf filled with posed skeletons of various avians and thought of Fawkes… Who knew where that bird was now. “Dumbledore used to wait for me,” he said. “Phoenix tears often helped with any lingering wounds, but unfortunately, all that can be done sometimes is wait. The tremors and seizing stop within a few hours, but the exhaustion will wear you ragged. I’ll likely apparate right to bed and not awake until midday tomorrow.” “Are you alright to apparate, then?” “Miss Granger, I appreciate the concern, but this is hardly my first time delivering bad news to that madman,” Severus said, tone short and dry. “You needn’t insert yourself into every predicament in the vicinity.” She winced. “I’m sorry, Professor. I… sorry.” With another, more exasperated sigh, Snape stood up. “I must be off soon,” he said. “Back into your room, if you would. Gather whatever reading material you’ll require now.” When the door closed and locked behind her, Hermione felt helplessness creep in like an icy draft. She didn’t mean to come off as so desperate to be involved, but she… she was alone without Professor Snape. And she could tell he was similarly alone without her. Perhaps not too similarly, of course. He hardly seemed interested in striking up conversation or discussing their situation, no matter how many days they spent sitting together in Dumbledore’s office. But he still sat there with her. Even if he did so for her benefit, that had to mean some thing. What would he think, though, if she told him the real reason she cared so much about him coming back safely? An embarrassed pit in her stomach made Hermione squeeze her eyes closed, trying not to feel as strongly as she felt. It was that bloody dream, confusing and muddling up her emotions. Professor Snape felt comforting and safe to be around, and he did so much to ensure she wasn’t miserable. He’d even said she shouldn’t blame herself. How unlike the Snape everyone else knew, to attempt to comfort the likes of her. Hermione shook her head and huffed. Sitting around and moping wouldn’t get her anywhere; there was a pile of books she needed to be working at, and notes she needed to be making. Sooner or later, she’d have to discover something. She just had to. — “It’s to be expected , of course, that they’d want to keep away from the school…” Voldemort said, tapping a finger against his chin. “Unfortunate, but expected. Do not worry yourssself, Severus, we have far more important focuses at hand.” Relief washed over Snape as he wrapped up his report without angering Riddle. He’d heard from a few others, however, that things were going well with the giants and that knowledge had likely put the Dark Lord in a good mood. Silver linings, he supposed. Rejoining the crowd, Snape allowed himself to relax a smidgen. As another Death Eater stepped forth to relay how her mission was proceeding, a familiar voice whispered into his ear. “You look like you could use a drink,” Lucius Malfoy said. “Come with me.” He had been formally dismissed by Voldemort, thankfully, so Severus turned and nodded at Lucius. The two crept to Malfoy Manor’s sitting room without stirring any notice. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you myself,” Malfoy said as he poured amber liquid into a crystal glass. “Narcissa wants to extend her gratitude as well.” “I noticed she was absent from today’s gathering,” Snape said, taking the glass in hand. “Indeed. She and Draco are visiting some relative from her side of the family at the moment,” Lucius replied. “Having the Dark Lord around has put them both on edge. Needed to get away.” “And he doesn’t have a problem with that?” “He’s become disinterested in Draco lately. Thank Merlin.” Snape nodded and took a sip of the firewhiskey, enjoying its smooth burn. “How are you making out, anyway, Sev? Amycus and Alecto behaving themselves?” Lucius asked, taking a much larger swig of his drink. “As could be expected,” he replied. “They’re working on their lesson plans now. Next week will have me a lot busier.” “What’s next week?” “Just preparations for the semester,” Snape explained. “As we get into August, the staff convenes more frequently to discuss proposed changes, head boys and girls, class schedules, all that.” “Right. Grunt work,” Lucius said with a small, amused huff. “Suppose the Dark Lord considers this your retirement, putting you in charge of the school.” “Merlin, I hope not,” Snape murmured. “If I had my way, the whole bloody place would be torn down.” “Oh?” Malfoy leaned in, tilting his head. “It’s an archaic monument to times we’d be better off forgetting. And traditions we ought to put behind us.” “Still get nightmares about our school days, then?” Lucius was right, of course; patrolling the halls of Hogwarts continued to remind Snape of every mistake he’d made as a student, the feeling of utter isolation from his peers. That isolation seemed to follow him, even now. “You may recall I wasn’t a very popular child,” he responded dryly. “But that’s not the main reason. Teaching there has shown me just how poorly our system prepares the youth of today for the world that awaits. Doing away with the institution itself seems like a good start to righting that.” “Your time as headmaster may have a positive effect,” Lucius said, though he was grinning facetiously. Snape merely rolled his eyes. He had to admit, it was nice to sit and chat with Malfoy. Heinous as the man could be, he was also a very solid and reliable friend. No one was able to predict Severus’ emotional state like Lucius, even if he kept his feelings well under wraps, and he never shied away from his intimidation. Before long, the house became quiet. Voldemort’s meeting had adjourned. And without incident, at that. “I have obligations to attend, I’m afraid,” Snape said when Lucius attempted to refill his glass for a third time. “But thank you.” “Right, I’d imagine the girl is waiting,” Malfoy replied, re-stoppering the bottle. “Draco would probably have been able to dispatch the old man himself, had he known it would earn him that witch as his own little toy.” Snape’s eye twitched but he didn’t react otherwise. “He’d have regretted having her in his company before long, no doubt,” he said instead. “Gryffindors are endlessly infuriating, even when properly restrained.” Lucius chuckled. “He loves to hate that girl, Draco does,” he said. “I think he hates that she’s bested him so many times, really, and hates even more the fact that he’s impressed by her.” “You’re speaking of Granger with strange fondness, Lucius, it’s unbecoming.” “Oh, I do no such thing! I’m simply acknowledging that she’s accomplished more than your typical mudblood, don’t you think? It’s a shame she couldn’t have been of… more noble lineage. Pretty thing, reminds me a bit of Lily.” If Severus didn’t know Lucius as well as he did, he’d have likely been rather disgusted. But he could see that the man was eyeing him carefully, noting his body language, trying to discern… something. “She can be made pretty with the right accessories,” Snape replied with a faux smirk. He wouldn’t fall into the trap. “Do let me know if you’d like to see.” It was a taunt, one that made Malfoy raise an eyebrow. Snape had seemingly passed his test. “Perhaps another time,” Lucius said. “Take care, Severus, and do stop by when you can. It gets boring around here without you.” Snape huffed. “You flatter me,” he said. Then, without another word, he apparated away from the manor. — When Hermione heard a knock at her door, her heart bounced. “Professor, is that you?” “Indeed. Care for some tea?” He sounded fine , not like someone who’d just endured torture at the hands of the Dark Lord. Thank Merlin. Sitting down in the chair she’d claimed for herself a few weeks prior, Hermione waited patiently for Severus to explain himself… if he decided to at all. “Here.” He handed her the tea cup with holly decals and a gold filagree, her favourite out of Dumbledore’s collection. His favourite was a classic muggle series known as “old country roses”, featuring red, pink, and yellow roses along with a narrow gold trim. “Thank you, sir. I… I’m glad to see you’re in decent shape,” she replied. “I’m glad to be in decent shape. Though we take the good with the bad, I suppose,” Snape said, sitting down in the other wingback and sighing. “The Dark Lord’s forming some very powerful allies.” “...Ah.” Hermione wished she had some sort of reassuring news, some inkling of an idea regarding the horcruxes, but all she’d been able to find in her scouring was a legend regarding some lost Ravenclaw article. It wasn’t particularly helpful. “We’ll have to brace ourselves for tomorrow,” Snape said, stirring his tea with a small silver spoon. “I want to apologize in advance for the way I’ll most likely talk to and of you.” Right. Tomorrow, Hermione would be debuting as Professor Snape’s personal sex slave. In front of the other members of staff, people she respected more than anyone else in the world. Her heart sank. “It’s alright, sir, I understand,” she said, though the dismay was evident in her voice. “I just hope it doesn’t go on for longer than necessary.” “Mm.” Their discussion ended there. Hermione and Severus continued to drink their tea and read quietly until lunch, where a tray of sandwiches was brought along with scones and clotted cream. “I haven’t had clotted cream in ages,” Hermione said as she spread some over her scone. “My parents are rather particular about the food we keep in the house.” “Some kind of new-wave dieting fad?” Snape asked, dry and monotonous as usual. “No, they’re dentists,” Hermione replied. “I’d imagine they’re worried sick about me right now… I was meant to come home for the summer. But they know I stay with the Weasleys sometimes, so maybe…” Snape’s stomach twisted up a bit. His parents had never been the kind to dote over him, to await his return from Hogwarts. Tobias’ death was probably the highlight of his adolescence. “I apologize sincerely. If you were to inform them that you were alright, it would draw too much suspicion. Safer for everyone if they believe you to be– missing.” Hermione nodded slowly, staring at her scone. “Have you any news about Harry?” she asked, not looking up. “His movements are being followed both by the Order and the Death Eaters, but the only news I really have is that he’s been laying low. Him and Ronald Weasley. I believe they’re searching for Salazar’s locket,” Snape replied. Intel regarding the Order was hard to come by, but other Death Eaters would mention crossing paths with the likes of Tonks as they went about their spying. He could fill in the blanks from there. “He’s alright, then…” Hermione mumbled. “So it seems.” The girl returned to reading whatever new book it was she’d thrust her hopes into today. Severus watched her out of the corner of his eye, neglecting his own novel, and noted the way her brow furrowed and eyes quickly scanned, flicking from left to right back to left again at a remarkable pace. She was nothing if not stubborn in her determination to do something, anything at all, for Potter. The boy likely had no idea just how dedicated she was, despite her situation… or perhaps because of it. “Professor,” Hermione said suddenly. Snape blinked, wondering if she’d realized he was staring, but her eyes remained focused on the book. “Have you heard of Ravenclaw’s Diadem?” “The name sounds familiar, yes. I can assume it’s a Ravenclaw relic,” Snape replied. “You believe this could be a horcrux?” “Well… potentially, yes,” Hermione said. She marked her place in the book with a slip of parchment and closed it. “But it’s apparently lost. Rowena’s daughter stole it centuries ago and it hasn’t been seen since.” “Hm. That doesn’t do us much good, does it?” “That’s what I thought, sir, but…” Hermione paused. “What if her daughter could tell us where it’s been hidden?” “Though witches and wizards tend to have impressive lifespans, Miss Granger, I think it’s a bit foolish to assume Rowena’s child is still with us today.” “That’s where you’re wrong, Professor.” Snape’s eyes flashed, bothered by Granger’s disrespect, but she pretended not to notice. “Look at this picture here,” she said, having rummaged through her stack of books for some illustrated history of the founders. The page she showed had a very lovely drawing of Rowena and her daughter, Helena, the diadem still on the founder’s head. “What of it?” Snape asked, irritation growing. “Doesn’t she seem familiar? Helena?” Peering closer, Snape frowned. He had to admit, there was something about the woman that he recognized. Likely from a painting within the castle, he thought, probably one near the Ravenclaw dormitory. But that didn’t feel quite right. He could’ve sworn he’d met her face-to-face… “The Grey Lady,” he murmured. Hermione’s face lit up and she smiled proudly. “Precisely!” she exclaimed, closing the book. “Helena Ravenclaw is still here, in Hogwarts. She’s just a ghost.” “That particular ghost is known to avoid talking with the living, Miss Granger,” Snape replied. “I can glean what sorts of ideas you’re forming, but I must remind you of something; if I’m seen asking a ghost about a potential horcrux, my position will be immediately compromised.” Just as quickly, Hermione’s smile disappeared and her shoulders slouched. “I suppose you’re right, sir. It just… seems like a solid lead.” “It is a solid lead,” he replied quietly. “We are simply in no place to follow up on it.” “Wait, you’re right!” Hermione perked back up, looking at her professor with wide eyes. “ We may not be able to follow up. But we can bring these clues to the attention of someone who can !” Snape opened his mouth to dismiss the thought, then closed it again, considering what she was saying. He had a decent enough idea as to the location of Potter and Weasley; if he was careful, remained hidden, all that needed to be done was for a few pages to be delivered. Hell, a house elf could do it. A house elf. “Excuse me for a moment,” Snape said, standing abruptly from his chair. There was a certain someone he needed to meet with.  Chapter 5 When Snape had returned later that afternoon, he didn’t disclose much to Hermione. In fact, he headed straight to his quarters, only pausing to inform her that he’d ensured the necessary clues would make their way to Harry and Ron. That alone was enough to make Hermione’s heart soar. She’d done it; she’d found a lead for them to follow. She’d helped. Not even grouchy old Snape could pretend otherwise. Though he’d been a lot less grouchy with her as of late. He tried to be reasonable and not needlessly inflammatory, with fewer insults to her competency if she said something incorrect or naive. Not that it necessarily meant anything beyond wanting their co-habitation to be as amicable as possible. Even if she wanted to believe otherwise. Being locked back in her room, Hermione remembered that there were other important things to keep in mind besides horcruxes. Namely, how the hell she would get through tomorrow without dying of humiliation. The outfit she and Snape had organized was still hanging from her bed post. She considered trying it on again to practice moving around, but even that felt rather embarrassing. She didn’t want any more distracting daydreams. Though those very same “daydreams” were going to be what people assumed Snape was actually doing to her. That made her face go beet red. It was hard to imagine being in a room full of people who believed you were a walking sex toy for the man who murdered Dumbledore. Merlin, how would she survive tomorrow? — “Too tight?” Hermione shook her head as Snape adjusted the cuffs around her wrists. He sighed, a weary and tired breath rather than a sign of exasperation, and looked her in the eyes. “I sincerely apologize for the things I'll say,” he said. “It is my hope that you understand I don’t mean any of it.” “I understand, Professor, don’t worry about me,” Hermione replied, though her smile wasn’t quite as confident as she would’ve liked. “Now for the glamours.” Severus withdrew his wand and began applying fake injuries to Hermione’s exposed skin. Redness around her restraints, bruises spattered here and there, and a few scrapes on her knees. “Do I look properly abused now?” Hermione asked. She looked down at her torso and legs, twisting them to see the backs and sides. “Indeed.” Snape pursed his lips, trying not to stare too much at her as a whole. The last thing he wanted was Hermione to feel that she wasn’t safe even from his ogling. But the serpent in the back of his head whispered, encouraging him to just get one good look- over. She was done up to his preferences, after all, it would be such a waste to deny himself. He ignored the voice. The time to stall was running out and soon, he’d have to make an appearance in front of the Hogwarts staff… with a bound and bruised teenage girl in tow. “How is it I should behave, besides seeming, um, uncomfortable?” Hermione asked, fiddling with the chain connecting her left wrist to her collar. “You aren’t to speak, even if asked questions directly. And you have to avoid eye contact with everyone, myself especially. Understood?” She nodded. “Will this take long, do you think?” she asked in a quieter voice that betrayed her anxieties. “I can’t say. I’ll do my best to have us back here as soon as humanly possible,” Snape replied. “Alright, then; it’s time. Come.” He held the leather hand loop at the end of the leash and began walking to the office entrance. Hermione was surprised by the feeling of the lead, even when slack she felt its demanding pull against her throat. Eyes trained on the floor in front of her, she followed the headmaster. Severus was first to the staff room, as was expected for his position. He transfigured a chair for Hermione next to his at the head of the table, making it just a bit shorter than the others. “Sit,” he growled, tugging the chain leash. Even though they were alone in the room, he was getting into character. Hermione did as she was told. Merlin, if only that low growl wasn’t so– “Headmaster! How good to see you,” Amycus said as he and his sister walked in. Hermione felt fear wrap itself around her like icy tendrils; it was show time and she couldn’t afford any slip-ups. “Professor Carrow,” Severus replied, bowing his head just a touch. “Please, have a seat. We’re waiting on the rest of the faculty.” “So, doing well, then?” Alecto asked, pulling out a chair three to the left of Hermione. She could feel sweat running down the back of her neck as the Carrows’ eyes continued flitting between her and Severus. She was fully aware, then, of just how under-dressed she felt. Heat burned in her face. Right. Severus had instructed, absolutely no eye contact. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and stared down at the wood grain on the table. “Quite. Things are proceeding to the Dark Lord’s plans, from what I’ve heard. Our strength grows,” he responded, tone cool and aloof. If she didn’t know any better, Hermione would’ve believed him to be a loyal Death Eater. “Was there any doubt?” Alecto said, snickering. “The Potter boy’s in hiding, last I was told, which has helped the idiotic muggle-lovers realize a thing or two about what true power looks like.” Snape cracked a small smirk, nodding. “Pathetic that so many rest their hopes in a teenage boy,” he replied with spitting resentment. That, Hermione thought, had to be at least a little genuine. Filius was the next to arrive at the meeting. He took one look at Hermione and all the colour drained from his face; he seemed positively ill. “Wh- what is the meaning of this?!” he sputtered. “Miss Granger, are you quite alright?” Amycus and Alecto could hardly restrain their cackling. “ Miss Granger is none of your concern, Professor Flitwick,” Snape said, giving the short man a cold stare. “Take a seat.” Flitwick blinked quickly, giving Hermione a pitying glance before choosing the furthermost chair from her at the table. Pomona, Poppy, and Septima came in soon after, having similarly appalled reactions to seeing Hermione in her… present state. With each professor’s dismayed look, she felt like she’d wilted just that much more, going from respected student to pitiful victim. It took a few more minutes for the rest of the staff to arrive and fill the seats around the table. McGonagall in particular looked positively fuming and sat herself as close to the head as possible, giving a death stare to Professor Snape. “What’s wrong, Minerva? You look a little red in the face,” Amycus said with a sinister smirk, leaning over the table. She didn’t even acknowledge his jeer, merely continuing to glare daggers into the headmaster. “It appears all staff are present,” Snape said, rising from his seat. Hermione’s lead remained firmly held in his right hand all the while, which she somehow found comforting. A reminder they were in this together. “I’d like to introduce our newest professors here at Hogwarts,” he continued, sweeping the room with narrowed eyes. “Amycus and Alecto Carrow. They will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies respectively. Additionally, they are both my Deputy Headmasters.” The Carrows stood and bowed, smirking at the rest of the room with crude smugness. It made Hermione sick to her stomach. Minerva refused to look at the siblings, however. She well remembered their presence on the night of Dumbledore’s death and feared greatly for Hogwarts’ students. Most of all for Hermione. She held her tongue, however, and kept her wand sheathed; if she were to act now, there was no telling who would and wouldn’t survive. It was almost certain that Hermione would be killed in the event of any rebellion, too. In wizard chess, this was considered being pinned. Unable to move, for the life of another will be put at risk. How badly she wanted to provide some comfort for the poor girl. “Headmaster Snape, I have a question, if you don’t mind,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Why is Miss Hermione Granger here with us?” A few murmurs echoed around the table. “Poppy, I do not believe I approved for you to ask your question,” he sneered. Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief at his tone. “But as you deigned to do so regardless , I shall explain. Hermione Granger is prisoner to the Dark Lord and remains under my watch. I understand she was candidate for Head Girl, but she is, as it stands, fulfilling some different… duties this school year.” Amycus and Alecto hooted in laughter. “Will she not be attending classes?” Filius piped up. “She will not. I can assure you I am keeping her well educated.” The staff looked at one another with disgust and concern. Hermione wished the earth would simply swallow her up; she could hardly stand the looks of pity she was receiving. “I hope that clears up any off-topic questions we had,” Severus said after people’s whispers had died out. “I’d like for us to discuss a few… overdue changes to our curriculum. Amycus, would you start us off?” A high-pitched tone in Hermione’s head prevented her from hearing the rest of the meeting. She tried to just zone out, drift away from it all, but how could she? Eyes crawled over her skin, inspecting the fake injuries, trying to gauge her expression and body language. She felt like an unwilling pageant contestant. Gossip, judgement, scrutiny, sympathy, all of it shot into her like tiny needles. People would be talking about her after this. She’d be discussed like some tragedy in the papers. The more she thought about it, the lower she sank in her seat. She didn’t even realize how low she’d slouched until Snape sharply pulled on her collar, forcing her upright once again. “Trained canines behave better than you,” he hissed just loud enough for the Carrows (and, unfortunately, McGonagall) to overhear. Hermione merely bowed her head and allowed her lip to tremble. It felt like the meeting dragged on for hours and hours. Hermione had well and truly dissociated by the time she was being yanked to her feet, not even realizing where she was for a few moments. “Can you not even stand properly, Granger?” Severus snapped as she stumbled, trying to gain balance. “It’s incredible how an embarrassment such as yourself has gained such a high reputation.” “Don’t be too hard on her, Severus, mudbloods can’t meet the same standards we set for everyone else,” Alecto snickered. “Though I’ve heard they respond well to corporal punishment!” “Yes, I’ve found that myself,” Snape said with a cruel grin. To demonstrate, he grabbed a fistful of Hermione’s hair as he spoke, tugging it to make her stumble even more. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes from the pain in her scalp. Memories of Dolohov finding her just outside Malfoy Manor flashed back, causing her throat to constrict in panic. She’d been absolutely certain back then that she was about to die. Hermione didn’t even realize how badly her knees were shaking when Snape let go of her hair and allowed her to stand on her own. “Let’s go before you can embarrass me further,” he growled, pulling her leash. With that, Snape strode out of the room, a miserable Hermione Granger tiptoeing behind him. — The collar and cuffs fell away the instant Severus had re-established the office’s wards. Hermione rubbed at her neck. It felt a little raw from the leather rubbing against her sensitive skin, as did her wrists to a lesser degree. “Are you alright?” Severus asked. His tone had lost its flatness, no longer lacking in emotion. He sounded ashamed. “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. The shakiness in her voice wasn’t particularly convincing. “I’m sorry. I truly am. For– for all of this,” Snape said. He sank into one of the wingbacks. “I can’t imagine how that must have… I’m sorry.” Hermione’s brow furrowed. She sat down in the matching chair, facing the headmaster. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly. “You’ve been protecting me. This is my own mess at the end of the day, you put yourself in danger for my sake. Thank you.” “It’s not your mess,” Snape replied. “If I hadn’t been– If you really knew the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t be thanking me.” “I’m afraid I don’t understand…” “I wasn’t always a spy for the Order. I was devoted to the Dark Lord. You know that, correct?” Hermione paused before nodding. “When I was young and foolish, when all I wanted was a sense of power over others, I–” Snape inhaled deeply. “I would subjugate muggle women in this way.” He held up the collar and cuffs. “I treated women like this and it wasn’t an act. It’s the reason I’m expected to treat you the same way. It’s my fault.” Hermione blinked, frowned, then sat back. It was taking her a moment to process what he’d told her, to integrate that knowledge into her mental image of Severus Snape. She’d known his past was messy and dark. Of course she did. But she knew that he’d changed, put so much on the line to make up for those mistakes. “We aren’t the people we once were forever,” she said after a few long minutes of silence. “Those mistakes, the ones you made at my age, they aren’t you now. I’m still grateful for what you have done for me, for Harry.” Snape laughed ruefully, a choked and distressed sound rather than an expression of joy. “I’ll tell you something you don’t know,” he said. “I’m the reason Harry’s parents are dead. Nothing I can do now will ever erase that fact.” Hermione reached out, placing a hand on Severus’ knee. “That was nearly two decades ago,” she said. “You aren’t your mistakes.” He pulled away from her touch like she was toxic. “Ever the childish hero,” he spat. “You believe a few platitudes are enough to erase a lifetime of failure, to change someone’s heart? Has it crossed your mind that I only do good things to appease my own guilt? That I don’t care about this bloody war?” Hurt stung at Hermione’s gut. “I think you do care, a lot more than you want to!” she retorted, trying to force down the tears threatening to spill over. “I think you hate yourself for caring, and you take it out on everyone around you! You don’t want to believe you could be a good person because then you’d have to let yourself feel and care!” She got up and stormed to her room, slamming the heavy door behind her and hearing it lock in place. Safely within the warded space, Hermione started to cry. Back in the office, Snape stared at the closed door with genuine shock. It was easy to forget that Granger was more than a naive little Gryffindor. She had a sharp tongue and even sharper observational abilities. And now he’d upset her. As if it hadn’t already been a difficult morning for the poor girl. Snape held his head in his hands and exhaled. Why the hell was everything so idiotically complicated? Why was he trying to convince her to hate him? He didn’t want her to. He wanted her to trust and believe in him, but as soon as she expressed that very sentiment… Why did it scare him?  Chapter 6 Hermione took two showers following the staff meeting. Her skin felt itchy, like it was covered in some irritant, and only after the second wash did she really feel somewhat clean. All the while, she stewed about Snape. He felt the need to be nasty no matter the situation and it was starting to grate on her. But at the same time, she knew he was doing it with the express purpose of keeping others distant. She was too stubborn to let him win. After her anger had simmered down a bit, Hermione reconciled that she still wanted to get closer to him. She wanted to break that icy shell and make it clear Snape wasn’t the villain everyone believed him to be. Even if she was the only one who could know. As much as she tried, she just couldn’t stay angry with Severus. It was embarrassing as all hell because she knew why – her stupid, stupid crush. It had started years ago, though back then it was nothing more than a childish infatuation. He was an enigmatic and attractive man with a deep, mesmerizing voice; she surely wasn’t the only one to fantasize about him and that damn voice. But the more she learned from her time with the Order, the more her infatuation grew. It wasn’t something she would– or could , really– admit to, but it made her act a bit… for lack of a better term, dumb. Hence the Malfoy Manor incident. Luckily, Severus seemed oblivious to her feelings thus far. Even though she knew it was for the best he remained so, a part of her wanted him to find out, to admit he found her interesting and attractive, too… But he appeared almost repulsed by her. He refused to look at her when she was in the skimpy lingerie longer than necessary, after all, and appeared unaffected by her attempts to compliment and reassure him. Well, perhaps not unaffected ; just irritated. Would he always think of her as that annoying, buck-toothed know-it-all? Even now ? She let out a huff of frustration, burying her face into one of the plush pillows on her bed. This train of thought was going nowhere and she needed to distract herself. Sitting back up, Hermione looked at the pile of books sitting on top of her wood chest. There was research to be done, and that should be her priority, right? She opened up the memoir about Helga Hufflepuff she’d been skimming through and tried to focus. — “Master Snape! Dobby has returned from his mission!” The pop of a house elf apparating into the office had startled Severus for just a moment, but upon seeing Dobby, he felt a sense of relief. “And?” he asked, clasping his hands across the headmaster’s desk. “And Harry Potter has found the notes and now believes the lost diadem to be a horcrux, sir.” “Thank you, Dobby. Well done,” Snape said. “What news do you have on their activities?” “They are tracking down a locket that was stolen from the House of Black,” Dobby relayed while wringing his hands. “It is the Slytherin locket, sir, and they were told by Kreacher that house elf magic cannot destroy it.” Snape raised an eyebrow, thinking everything over. “Did it seem as though they know where to look next, then?” he asked. “Indeed! They are going to find what happened to Mundungus Fletcher, sir. He had the locket last.” It was remarkable they’d managed any kind of progress without Granger, Snape thought. Once they retrieved the locket, they could find the diadem, and… The memory of Dumbledore’s black, shrivelled hand came back to him. What if the horcruxes were cursed, just as the ring had been? Those two idiots could very well be killed! “Dobby, I have another request to make of you,” Snape said. “And, just as before, I expect utmost secrecy.” “Of course, Master Snape, Dobby will not let a single word slip!” “I need you to locate that locket before they do.” The house elf blinked, then looked away as he thought. “Dobby will do his best,” he said. “What must be done with the locket, sir?” “You will not be able to destroy it, but can you ensure it is not cursed beyond, of course, being a horcrux?” Snape asked. “If it happens to bear a curse, you must remove it. If you cannot, bring it to me. Do you understand?” “Yes, Master Snape, Dobby understands.” “Once you’ve done that, I wish for you to follow Harry Potter secretly,” he continued. “You will report to me what it is they learn during their travels, how close they are to finding horcruxes. It is imperative they have someone a step ahead ensuring their safety.” Dobby’s eyes widened and he nodded fervently. “Dobby will look out for Harry Potter!” he said. “Harry Potter is Dobby’s friend!” “You may go now, Dobby. You’ve done very well.” With another nod, the house elf disappeared from the office. Severus leaned back in the desk chair and sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his face. There was hope yet for those blundering fools. He was reminded, then, of Hermione sulking in her room. She had every right to be upset with him, but still, he felt annoyed by how strong-headed the girl was. Her argumentative nature paired with her unflinching morals made her proud and stubborn. In a way, she was a lot like him… if he’d had the strength to be good when Lily had left. In fact, she wasn’t too dissimilar to Lily. That thought made his stomach churn a little; thinking about Lily always did. But strangely, he found that the ache in his chest that normally accompanied such thoughts was absent. Hermione wasn’t Lily, though, despite the things they shared. She was far more no-nonsense, for one, and somehow an even brighter, more impressive witch. Her prowess throughout her time at Hogwarts was unparalleled. And they really looked nothing alike. Lily was red haired and green eyed, standing out in every crowd, whereas Hermione was short and mousy with her brown hair and eyes. Yet, the closer one looked, the more there was; her eyes were amber, tinted a warm reddish colour, like a well brewed cup of tea. Her hair and its wild curls framed her face so well, drawing you into her gentle smile. That was something he didn’t really expect from her; how gentle she could be. He hated how much he liked that about her. Merlin, he needed to stop thinking about her in those terms. She was his student, his captive , and it was in no way appropriate behaviour… even if everyone already believed he was doing much worse. He took a deep breath in. As much as he didn’t want to, he knew he ought to apologize. — The sound of knocking broke Hermione from her book-induced trance. Her head jolted up, facing the door to her room, and she frowned; it wasn’t yet time for supper, was it? Walking over, she opened the door just a crack. “What is it?” she asked, trying to keep her voice flat. She wanted Professor Snape to think she was still upset at his treatment of her– mostly because she likely should’ve been. “Miss Granger, I believe I owe you an apology.” Hermione blinked rapidly. Was she fucking dreaming ? “You… you do?” she asked incredulously. Snape sighed. “Yes, I do. If you’d like to come out, I can properly express my thoughts, rather than communicating through the door frame.” They both sat in front of the fireplace facing one another, Hermione staring at Severus expectantly. “Your assessment before was… not incorrect. I have changed over the past twenty years. I cannot hold myself to the standards of the Light while still treating myself like a Death Eater. It is therein difficult to reconcile that I once did things that would make another unforgivable in my eyes,” he said. “Perhaps it’s time to forgive yourself,” Hermione replied quietly. “If you reflect on your past and are ashamed of your younger self, that’s a sign you aren’t that person anymore.” Snape didn’t say anything for a little while. “Regardless,” he started, finally breaking the silence. “I should not have… reacted with such unwarranted hostility. For that, I am sorry.” “I accept your apology.” Hermione smiled, meeting Severus’ eyes with a look of gratitude. He allowed himself to smile in return. It was small, just a touch friendlier than a sneer, but a smile nonetheless. Hermione’s heartbeat quickened and she fought to keep herself from blushing. “I didn’t know you were capable of such an expression,” she said, teasing. Snape rolled his eyes. “I am a far more advanced life form than my students give me credit for,” he responded with a smirk. “Capable of emotions such as joy and happiness. As much of a shock as that likely seems.” “I’ve barely restrained a gasp of disbelief, sir.” Snape chuckled and stood from the chair. “Tea?” he asked, already making his way to the pot. “Please.” — It was mid-August when Dobby first reported to Snape what he’d seen and done. Upon learning the locket carried no additional curses, Snape instructed the house elf to return it to Dolores Umbridge, as Harry and Ron were already operating under the assumption that it was in her possession. From there, all that they could do was wait. As wonderful and simple as it seemed to have Dobby simply deliver the horcrux to Potter, Severus was aware that news of such a suspicious occurrence would have too many eyes turned in the boy’s direction. If it was suspected that someone was helping him along… The risk was too great. Procuring and destroying the horcrux was something Potter would need to accomplish himself. A little aid here and there, of course, but nothing more. He didn’t tell Hermione too many details, just the gist of what her friends were up to for the most part. Dobby’s involvement was kept a secret– he didn’t want the girl intercepting the house elf to deliver any messages on her behalf. Again, far too risky. As September approached, Snape became rather busy with the tedious tasks the Hogwarts Headmaster was to attend to. Because of this, Hermione rarely saw him outside of sharing supper late into the evening, and even then, he’d retire to his quarters soon after. Being consistently trapped in her room for nearly the entire day was driving her a bit batty. “Professor, I wanted to ask you something,” Hermione said after they’d just wrapped up their meal one evening. “If that’s alright.” “I suspect if I refused, you’d explode out of your skin with desperation,” he replied with a slight smirk. “Ask away, Miss Granger.” “Since the office is well warded, would it… perhaps be possible for me to spend my afternoons outside of my chambers?” “Have you been feeling claustrophobic?” “Um, I believe the term I’d use is… cabin fever. Or, perhaps, stir crazy. But yes, it’s wearing on me a little– well, more than a little,” Hermione replied. “Hm. I will not grant you your wand during this time, but yes, I cannot see an issue with you having a touch more leg room during the day,” Snape said. He placed his utensils on top of his empty dinner plate, stacking Hermione’s underneath. “Yes! Thank you, sir, really.” “I expect, of course, you will behave yourself. I shouldn’t feel the need to childproof the room, no?” “I’ll avoid running into table corners to the best of my ability,” Hermione said with a grin. “I meant in regards to the artefacts and other delicate things that are found throughout Dumbledore’s collection, but y