Well here is the second installment, I should have the third chapter up soon as well, just as soon as I iron out a few details. So, enjoy! And review, I love all everyone's comments and critiques.
duj: Yes, I've been trying to work on my paragraph lengths and my tendency towards run-on sentences, so hopefully this is more to your liking :)
Katie: Thanks :) I'm excited about seeing Hermione will develop in this story, she definitely won't be the little bookish girl anymore. As for the smut aspect, well I don't forsee there being a lot of smut persay. There will be sex in the future, but its not something than I plan on bringing into the story too soon, sorry.
Seph7: Ahh, my partner in crime, I've missed you! Me a cliffie monster? Always darling, you know me. It just doesn't scream 'me' unless it has a wicked cliffy at the end. Yup, back in the swing of writing again, taking a small break from working on my own book actually. He he, yes, yes... I promise I will pick up Snowflake Kisses again some day, and I will even get around to finishing Touched and Lessons to Be Learnt, mmm Lucius. Anyway, moving on...
Gwenog Jones: I'm glad you like it so far, hopefully you can stay along for the ride, its certainly going to be a bumpy one for our duo :)
ohhdarkstonedone11: I will keep that in mind, I don't want to be a carbon copy of someone else's work. I will endeavor to make this as original and exciting as possible.
Pausing at the large door to his office, Severus thrust open the great slab of age and smoke darkened oak, its mighty iron hinges creaking loudly in the otherwise still and silent depths of the castle. Casting scrutinizing eyes over the shadowed and dank stone walls he ushered Hermione quickly into the quiet stillness of his office. Leaning for a moment against the cool surface of the door as it stood partially open, Severus watched with an inquisitive gaze as Hermione stepped several feet into the room, coming to a halt before the cluttered mass of his large desk that was overflowing with precariously stacked mountains of scrolls and essays, each one awaiting slashes of red ink.
Amongst the mountains of scrolls were dotted an old and intricately carved scale, hour glass and a multitude of quills that looked as though they had been chewed upon by an overgrown bat. With little thought of the man that hovered watching yet unmoving in the doorway behind her, Hermione let her eyes roam over the room she had only ever seen in brief glimpses over the years, her curiosity finally getting a chance to sate itself upon the spectacle before her.
A solitary oil lamp was buried amongst the mass of parchment and books that covered every available inch of the desk's surface, its stuttering flame causing shadows to dance wildly upon the domed dungeon ceiling, filling its curved surface with darkness as deep and dark as the gaze of the man who occupied these rooms. Behind the desk stood a worn, yet comfortable looking high-backed leather armchair, its rounded arms shinny and slightly malformed from years of wear, the dark blood red leather gleaming in the light from the lamp.
Beyond the chair were the expected rows upon rows of glass jars, each one containing a horrifying abnormality more disturbing than the one before, and bearing a yellowed and aged parchment label that bore the same spiky scrawl that had, for the past seven years ferociously delivered scathing remarks to her essays. An involuntary shudder of disgust rippled through Hermione as she drew her eyes away from the disturbing specimens that adorned Professor Snape's office in much the same way that the ridiculous swirling and twirling objects decorated the Headmaster's, at that moment in time however, she would most definitely have preferred the ridiculous to the hideous.
Letting her eyes continue to roam the room, Hermione could not deny the small swell of curiosity that flared to life within her like the ever undying flame, as her eyes alighted upon the immense bookcase that consumed the entire left wall. Each shelf was jam-packed and overflowing with books and scrolls of varying size and age, the weak light flickering along the sea of gold gilt titles, each one flashing and flickering like a fine gem, igniting her thirst for knowledge. Like a moth to a flame, Hermione found herself unthinkingly and boldly taking several steps towards the distant bookcase, her hand rising unconsciously to reach out and caress the aged spines.
Feeling that he had allowed Hermione's imprudent and wholly uncouth behavior to persist long enough unchecked, Severus let the great door slam shut behind him with a resounding thud that instantly caused her to jump suddenly at the echoing sound. Sweeping in a wide circle around his desk he came close to her, near enough for the trailing ends of his teaching robes to brush over the polished toe of her shoes as he spoke in a cool and mildly threatening tone, "Lay even one finger upon a single book, scroll, parchment or notebook within my office or possession without my permission first, and you shall find it much harder to hold a wand minus that offending digit." Settling into the large chair behind his desk with much the same flourish and overly dramatic gestures as the Headmaster while the leather creaked softly in protest, Severus watched through the thick ring of his eyelashes with immense amusement as Hermione's hackles were instantly raised.
Desperately trying to reign in her boiling anger, she turned slowly to face the man that sat calm and almost serene looking behind his desk, his arms comfortably folded before him, one hand raised to curl beneath his chin, a finger pressed thoughtfully against his lips as he regarded the young woman before him.
"Have a seat, Miss Granger," he finally said in a surprisingly weary tone, his features suddenly looking haggard and worn as his self-satisfied and smug expression faded away, replaced by one of shuttered resignation. Withdrawing his sleek ebony wand from within his robes, Severus cast it about the room with a simple gesture that caused several of the sconces about the chamber to sputter to life; though no amount of light could bring a sense of openness and warmth to the room.
Watching warily as her fearsome Potions Professor laid his wand calmly upon the desktop, Hermione carefully eased herself into the chair before the Professor's desk, the wood creaking softly beneath her weight, while her fingers reflexively curled around the chair's edge, her fingers digging into the worn fabric that had no doubt seen thousands of terrified students before her, and would see many more once she had passed from these halls. For a long while she sat still and silent beneath the pressure of Severus' gaze as he continued to watch her from across his desk, his cold and emotionless eyes surveying her in intricate detail, as though he were memorizing her down to the most minute of freckles. At first his gaze was no more unnerving than his usual glares or snide remarks that seemed to buzz about her in the classroom, but as time wore on and he seemed unflinching in his perusal of her, nor seemed to be in any particular rush to come to some kind of point, Hermione found herself growing ever more restless and uneasy. Clearing her throat softly in an attempt to rouse the gruff man who was pondering her with a ghost of a sardonic smile upon his lips while a single pale finger stroked his angular chin, Hermione continued to fidget before him.
When she could finally stand the silence no longer, she once more cleared her throat delicately before inquiring in a soft and almost respectful voice, though the previous heat of her anger continued to warm her tone, "You wished to discuss the details of my detention, sir?" Blinking lazily, Severus straightened almost unnoticeably in his chair, his hands coming to rest upon the cool surface of his desk.
"Indeed, Miss Granger, there is that matter to deal with, but also another which demands immediate attention. I was truly shocked and dismayed when I learnt of your intentions regarding the Dark Lord, and your exceedingly foolish plan to infiltrate the Death Eater ranks. Tell me, Miss Granger, in your opinion, are my efforts for the Order in some way lacking? Do you perceive the information I gather for the Headmaster to be inferior or worthless? Or do you, as is the case with most of the students and staff within this school, simply not trust me?" he asked in a voice that despite his words was even, calm and perhaps, for Severus even almost friendly. His expression was open and as calm as his tone, though his eyes as always held no trace of anything but a chilling nothingness as they surveyed the play of emotions upon Hermione's face. The flush caused by her anger quickly faded, only to be replaced with a sudden rush of embarrassment, her mouth dropping open as she floundered to offer her protest.
"No sir, I have never doubted you, nor the Headmaster's trust in you. The information you have gathered at great risk to yourself has been invaluable to the Order and has succeeded in saving so many innocent lives, while carrying us one step closer to defeating the Dark Lord. We would surely be doomed without you, sir," she said in a sudden and quick rush of breath, desperately seeking to reassure her professor before he could silence her. For a moment or two, Severus seemed to ponder Hermione's words, once again thoughtfully running a finger along the swell of his lower lip, before turning cool and calculating eyes upon the young woman seated across his desk. In that same calm and even tone that could so easily be construed as friendship had it come from anyone else, he purred silkily,
"Then please in your infinite wisdom, Miss Granger, do enlighten me as to why you see fit to throw yourself into the most ridiculous and dangerous of situations? Why you are intent upon entering into the Death Eater ranks, when the only certainty that awaits you at such a preposterous course of action is an agonizing death, but not before you are driven to pleading and madness through torture and rape. Pray, tell me why you deem it necessary to risk life and limb in this endeavor? Is not one life risked daily enough? Must you add your own name to the growing tally of losses for our side? Or perhaps you do it for the glory, for the simple fact that being best friend to the Boy-Who-Lived is not enough? Is that it, Miss Granger? You tire of playing second fiddle to the illustrious Harry Potter and wish for more fame, more adoring fans to regale you with praise and attention? Please, for the love of Merlin, do explain to me why you are so determined to do this," Severus wore on as he rose to his feet, his hands firmly planted upon the desk as he leant ever closer to her. His wild black mane fell into his widened and almost panicked eyes, while his voice rose in both pitch and volume, until he was all but bellowing at her in a hysterical manner.
A deafening silence descended quickly within the gloomy dungeon chamber, choking and heavy while Severus looked expectantly at the young woman before him, her warm chocolate eyes still showing the barest hint of her own suffocating anger. Yet, calmly she continued to sit there, poised and seemingly serene, hands folded neatly in her lap, feet demurely crossed at the ankles and tucked under her chair, while beneath her cool and collected façade she raged and seethed. Still, Severus stood quiet and unmoving, his palms remaining firmly planted upon the cluttered desktop, a stack of parchments at his left elbow wavering precariously as the voluminous sleeves of his robes settled over the desk in a thick blanket of darkness. As the seconds ticked by quickly, soon turning into drawn out minutes, his pale and angular face grew flushed and ever more pinched, the almost permanent furrow between his brows deepening, while the flickering shadows that danced across his face darkened.
Leaning further across the broad desk, he drew almost level with Hermione, his dangerously glittering coal black eyes staring deep into the depths of her honey gaze. When his beak-like nose was barely inches from Hermione's, Severus asked in a heated whisper, "Well, Miss Granger? Do you have a reason that would by some graciousness of Merlin validate that foolhardy and utterly ridiculous plan that your deluded mind has concocted?" Instantly, he saw her minute yet obvious reaction, the golden flecks in her eyes flashing brilliantly in the flickering light of the torches that sent severe shadows dancing across his own face. "Or as I suspect, was it yet another of your harebrained schemes developed out of Gryffindor brazenness, and an inability to use that great mind of yours for anything other than seeking attention?" he all but hissed passionately, his pallid cheeks now infused with a great flush that almost matched the red of Hermione's Gryffindor tie.
Taking a sudden step back, Severus narrowly escaped having Hermione's forehead come into swift and painful contact with his already hopelessly crooked nose, as she launched herself to her feet, her cheeks bearing the same heated flush of anger as his own.
"How dare you!" she exclaimed shrilly, her petite hands curling once more into angry fists at her sides, while her hair yet again began to frizz and crackle with furious magic. "How dare you make presumptions as to my reasons for this decision. You have no right to judge me or my actions!" she continued vehemently, while the golden flecks in her eyes seemed to dance in a sea of black.
"Ahh yes, you are right my dear, Miss Granger. I do not have the right to judge you or the multitude of senseless mistakes that you have committed over the years and continue to make to this day, and yet you and your sniveling little friends feel that you have been ordained by Merlin himself to play both judge and jury to me, for a decision that was made long before your pathetic selves blinked into existence!" Severus spat, literally, sending spittle showering down upon the desk as he glowered at her.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hermione ground her teeth together in frustration, bowing her head for a brief moment as she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to calm her furiously racing pulse. After several long moments of tense silence she spoke in a quiet and cool voice,
"Is that what this is about? You are still clinging to the grudge you hold against James Potter?"
"This has nothing to do with James or those pathetic flea bags he associated with, this is about your…" he began in a heated defense, only to be cut off by Hermione's sudden bark of incredulous laughter, the sharp sound of it causing him to pause for a moment as it rung shrilly in the cavernous room.
"Liar! This has everything to do with James, Sirius and Remus, and nothing to do with us! You are making us pay for their callous actions; they tormented and ridiculed you, Severus, not I." For the briefest of moments Severus looked as though Hermione had hit upon some cosmic truth that until that moment had only been known by the gods themselves, but then in the blink of an eye his expression was once again as dark and malicious as ever, his lips drawing back in a vicious snarl as he growled,
"Don't dare to address me with such familiarity, or to express your childish opinions regarding matters you know nothing about."
"And don't you dare to impose your childhood prejudices upon me!" Hermione snapped in reply as her chest heaved and her eyes flashed with violent fury. "For seven years, I have suffered and struggled under the weight of your childish hatred, and for what reason? Because of the house I was sorted into? Because of the friends I have? Or is it because of some horrendous wrong I committed against you? Do enlighten me, Professor as to what I have done to cause you to dislike me so," she hurried on in heated tones. A scowling sneer flowed across Severus' angular face, settling into place with the ease of a frequently worn mask, while thin lips drew back effortlessly in a snarl, as his brows sank down ever lower, until just a small sliver of gleaming obsidian showed beneath them.
"Insolent whelp," he began in a low and rumbling growl, as his own hands curled into dangerous fists within the folds of his robes.
"Call me what you will, Professor, your taunts and name-calling mean little to me these days. But still you avoid my question, why do you despise me so passionately? What great trespass did I commit against you?" Hermione continued to push, her lips drawn thin with anger, her cheeks flushed as though she had run laps around the castle.
"And you, Miss Granger continue to elude my own question," Severus replied in clipped tones as he fought to keep the blistering heat of his anger from his voice. "Why do you insist on risking all, including the lives of your pathetic friends in this, most foolish of endeavors? Why must you seek to sink to such dark and despicable levels simply for more knowledge with which to impress your teachers and peers?" he persisted, his voice growing ever more desperate and pleading, though still his gaze was cold, and sharp enough to cut glass.
"Because, you should not have to risk your life alone!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed with a frustrated sigh, throwing her hands wildly into the air as she glared at him across the desk with a determined expression fixed firmly on her face, her spine set in a rigid line as her eyes flashed a brilliant and startling gold.
For the first time in many years, Severus found himself speechless and drifting in a sea of unidentifiable emotions, each one waging war over the others for dominance. With a sigh of profound frustration and weariness, Severus sank back into his chair, the cool leather creaking as it molded to his body, curving around him like a comforting embrace.
"Sit down, Miss Granger," he said in a tired tone as he absently waved his hand at the chair before his desk, and cradled his forehead in his hand, his elbow resting upon the edge of his desk.
Retaining her hard-won defiance and still surging anger, Hermione remained standing, her brightly burning eyes narrowed until little could be seen of them except for a tiny glimmer of golden brown behind the ring of her thick lashes. "Would you stop being so damned annoying for just one moment, and sit down," Severus groaned after several long minutes, his head still buried in the warm embrace of his own fingers which worked slowly to ease the relentless pounding in his head. "I have never had the great fortune of encountering an individual as utterly irritating and confounding as yourself," he continued with the barest trace of a bitter chuckle as he finally lowered his hand to rest upon the only bare expense of cool wood on his cluttered desk.
Momentarily dumfounded by the typically sour man's unexpected expression of humor, even if it was at her own expense, Hermione lost some of her pent up steam, and sank slowly into the chair once more. "Except, perhaps the Dark Lord himself, or maybe even Albus. They can both be a right pain in my arse," Severus continued after a moment, his tone warmed with a hint of humor as he raised his coal black eyes to once more study the girl before him, who had somehow over the years, without him noticing transformed into an intelligent, ferocious and brave young woman.
Allowing herself an awkward and unsure chuckle, Hermione dipped her head slightly and gazed back at the man across from her, his tall and slender frame curled in upon itself as he slouched in the age-worn leather chair, one arm draped haphazardly across his desk while the other elbow rested upon the arm of the chair, his long and slender fingers curled beneath his chin.
"Tea?" he suddenly asked after several minutes, the break in silence jarring Hermione back into awareness, her raging thoughts seeming to dissolve into nothingness as she continued to peer uncertainly at the man before her. Gone, was the sour and malicious Potions Professor she had known, albeit only in passing, over the years, in his stead was a weary looking man who had suffered more hardships and trials than she could even begin to imagine, a man who had lived the majority of his life under the rule of one man or another. A man, that in recent months she had, despite his belittling remarks and unbending desire to inflict pain and suffering into the lives of all Gryffindors, developed a certain amount of sympathy for.
"I um.. what?" Hermione found herself stammering in confusion, her brain waging a war with itself as it tried to match the malicious and cruel man she had known for the past seven years with the subdued and weary man now sitting before her.
"Tea, Miss Granger. A warm drink served all over Great Britain, and even I believe in other parts of the world, the civilized ones at least. Though for reasons unknown, the Americans do insist on serving it cold. Would you care for some?" Severus replied sardonically, a smirk of amusement clinging to his lips.
"I err… yes?" she ventured with a sense of trepidation, unsure of what was playing out before her as she sat nervously in her chair, finding herself suddenly without anger and Gryffindor brashness.
"Good," Severus murmured as he languidly waved his hand to clear space in the center of his desk, which was soon after occupied by a small tea service and a plate of shortbread biscuits. Shaking back the voluminous sleeves of his outer robes, Severus leant forward in his chair, reaching out a hand towards the small silver teapot. "Shall I, Miss Granger?" he asked softly, his calm black eyes looking at her from across the great expanse of his desk.
"Please," Hermione answered with a subtle nod of her head. Giving a small nod of his own, his lank black hair swaying around his face, Severus poured tea into the two small china cups on his desk.
"Sugar and cream?" he asked, after setting down the teapot, adding two lumps of sugar and a splash of cream to first one cup and then the other at Hermione's nod. After handing one cup to her, Severus settled back into his chair languidly, his long legs stretched out before him, his feet crossed at the ankles. Slowly, he sipped at his tea, enjoying the warmth that spread down his throat and out through his chest, seeming for that brief moment to be chasing away the darkness that dwelled deep within his soul. Resting his head back against the chair, Severus allowed his eyes to drift closed, his hands resting upon his stomach as they gently cradled the tea cup, his thoughts flowing slowly through his mind.
Feeling utterly unsure of the situation that was playing out before her, Hermione sat silently in the chair in front of the broad desk littered with the essays of her peers and dozens of used and broken quills. Glancing down into the cup she held clasped in her lap, she looked for some sign of how to proceed in the murky dregs of her tea, but found nothing other than soggy tea leaves and undissolved sugar.
"Professor, you wanted to discuss my detention, sir?" she ventured after several more moments of silence, finding the undisturbed quiet in the dark dungeon room unnerving. Slowly stirring from his thoughts, Severus raised his eyes to peer at her over the rim of his tea cup as he took another long sip, before settling it on the edge of his desk.
"Are you incapable of holding your tongue for more than five minutes, Miss Granger?" he asked with a sigh of weariness.
"I err… Sorry, Professor," Hermione replied as she returned her gaze to her cup, her delicate brows drawn together in a frown. Waving his hand idly in the air to dismiss her apology, Severus sat up straighter in his chair, resting his elbows upon the table top as he observed her with fathomless black pools.
"No matter, Miss Granger. I have learnt over the years that short of a Lip-Locking Curse, there is no way to silence that tongue of yours And I do believe, that despite your earlier outburst, the Headmaster would frown upon me cursing a student, no matter how strong the desire to do so may be on occasion," he replied with a hint of a smile once more gracing his pale lips, and a glimmer of mirth shinning in his eyes. In spite of the evenings tumultuous emotional rollercoaster that had left Hermione feeling as confused and drained as her Professor, she could not refrain from allowing herself a small laugh as she nodded slowly.
"Well, at least you can acknowledge your infuriating penchant for feeling the need to share your wealth of knowledge with the world," he mused with a smile as he cast a warming spell upon the teapot and proceeded to pour them both a fresh cup of tea.
"Thank you," Hermione murmured as she accepted more cream and sugar in her cup, and slowly stirred it with a softly spoken incantation. Once more, several moments of silence stretched out between them, the tension in the air thick enough to feel, choking and oppressive, but for once, Hermione found herself lacking the desire to fill that tense quiet. In the deep recesses of her mind, she was attempting to convince herself that she was holding her tongue because she had learnt the error of her ways, but she knew that no matter how strongly she tried to delude herself, she was in fact simply trying to prove Professor Snape wrong. Childish as it may be, she still managed to take a small amount of comfort in her ability to remain still and quiet beneath his chilling gaze.
"Ah, so the little lioness is indeed capable of holding her tongue for more than three seconds," Severus mused as he drained the remaining tea from his cup before once again setting it back on his desk. "I am impressed, Miss Granger, but I still believe that you lack the conviction and skill to succeed in this ridiculous plan you have dreamt up," he continued, his tone suddenly loosing the almost jovial playfulness it had possessed moments before, instantly switching back to the detached and callous Professor most people knew him to be. It took all of two seconds for Hermione's temper to begin rising again at the barely concealed insult, her fingers tightening around her tea cup while her jaw became stiff. Quickly raising a hand to stave off any remarks she had been about to make, Severus rose from his chair and began slowly pacing back and forth behind his desk, his robes billowing around him as though their subtle yet dramatic movement brought him a certain amount of comfort.
"Allow me to finish, Miss Granger, before you feel the need to defend your bruised pride. While it is quite obvious that your skills in the classroom are exemplary, I fear that when thrust deep into the snake pit you will find yourself completely out of your league. An innocent mind such as yours cannot begin to imagine, nor dare dream of the horrors that would befall you should find yourself in the clutches of the Death Eaters, let alone comprehend the atrocities you would be expected to perform to confirm your loyalty to the Dark Lord. Tell me, Miss Granger, do you know the hatred required to perform the Killing Curse?" he asked, pausing for a moment in his pacing to turn and face her, to take in the stiffness of her shoulders, the firm set of her jaw and the fierce look that still lingered in her honey brown eyes.
A subtle shake of her head was all the answer Hermione gave, the only indication that she had even heard his question. "Mmm, I thought not. Few people know of the deep and burning hatred you must feel to be able to perform an effective Killing Curse. It is a hatred so strong that it eats at your soul, consumes your every waking thought and slowly kills you as surely as it will your victims. Do you think you could live with a hatred that bitter dwelling within you? Could you bring yourself to kill the innocent simply to prove you are faithful to the Dark Lord, and therefore prevent your own death?" he continued, his voice devoid of the heat of anger, but rather possessing a coldness so harsh that Hermione had to fight the urge to shiver as his words swirled around her. Moving around his desk to stand behind her chair, Severus laid his hands upon the smooth wooden back and leaned towards her, the scent of her hair, a faint combination of lavender and vanilla, wafting around him. "Well? Are you capable of a hatred so strong it would eventually destroy you?" he pushed, desperately trying to make her see the foolishness of her plans.
"I would do whatever had to be done," was the simple and emotionless reply that flowed from her lips, her voice sounding hollow and distant as she remained looking forward, barely acknowledging his presence behind her. A low rumbling growl emanated from deep within his throat as Severus quickly moved around to face her, his hands resuming a vice like grip on the back of her chair, his long arms and billowing robes serving as an ink black barrier between them and the rest of the world. His eyes flashed ferociously as they focused on hers, peering deep into the warmth of her gaze as his lips curled back in a vicious snarl.
"You would kill a child, Miss Granger? You would slaughter an innocent girl with large doe eyes and fine spun golden curls?" he hissed from barely a foot away, the heat of his breath washing over her smooth cheeks.
"I… What does that have to do with anything?" she spat back, her own lips drawing back in an angry grimace to match his.
"You think all the Death Eater victims are adults? Even you cannot be so foolish as to believe that they only kill those who have lived a full life, who have the majority of their years behind them. No, my dear, Death is not nearly so discriminating, and neither are we," he finished finally, his tone bitingly cold and unforgiving as a winter storm. "It takes a truly deviant and twisted soul to kill a child, and an even darker one to enjoy the act. Could you bring yourself to do such a thing, to strike down an innocent babe, and do it in such a way as to convince a horde of psychotic murderers that you enjoyed it as much as they?" Severus persisted maliciously, Hermione's refusal to crack both making him doubt his first impressions of her as well as forcing the level of his anger through the roof.
"Why are you so sure it would be a child?" she suddenly asked, her voice retaining a cool and distant air as she looked unfalteringly into his eyes, her own gaze full of challenge and defiance.
"Because, that is the task set to all those wishing to join the Death Eaters," Severus replied simply as he drew back from her, turning his back towards her as he moved around his desk and all but collapsed into his chair. No longer was he sitting in his office deep beneath Hogwarts Castle, no longer ensconced within that last safe haven to which he grasped so fervently.
The scent of aged tomes and parchment, ink and freshly cut herbs faded away, only to be replaced by that of rain dampened earth, stone walls so slick with mould that they appeared to shine in the dim light of a half dozen torches, their black acrid smoke coating the back of his throat and causing his eyes to sting. The stale odor of sweat, and the sweet metallic tang of blood hung in the air, thick and cloying as they added to the torture upon his senses. A listless breeze moved around Severus as he stood in the cavernous room beneath Malfoy Manor, the breeze doing nothing to cool him, but rather adding to his discomfort.
Although several torches were spread throughout the room, no amount of light could chase away the sinful darkness that mired the walls around him, the tortured screams and innocent blood of so many staining more than just mortar and stone. A thin film of sticky sweat covered Severus' rail thin and lanky body beneath the thick plain black robes he wore, his almost panicked breaths echoing within the confines of the simple white mask, sounding deafening in his own ears. The only other sounds in the room were the constant trickle of water somewhere deeper beneath the manor, and the nervous shuffling footsteps of the other people in the room.
Looking out through the small openings of his mask, Severus surveyed those around him, all of them clad in the same non-descript black hooded robes and almost featureless white mask that had just enough definition to retain a disturbing semblance of humanism. However, despite their matching dress, it was not particularly difficult for him to determine who was who. Across the room, clustered in the constantly quivering light of a torch stood two lumbering mountains of flesh that Severus knew more closely resembled a cave troll in both looks and intelligence; Crabbe and Goyle, Lucius Malfoy's dim-witted lackeys. And standing immediately to his left was the devil himself, looking resplendent and superior even in the same black robes as everyone else. It was something about his posture, something in his manner that spoke of refinement, of someone who had lived all their life as a part of the upper class elite.
No matter where you placed Lucius Malfoy, he would always exude a suave sense of decorum, a condescending attitude that clearly and loudly stated that you were most definitely beneath him, that it had always been that way, and always would be. But somehow, Severus had attracted the attention of the newest Malfoy heir to grace Hogwarts, and by miracles unbeknownst to him, had been taken under Malfoy's wing. An awkward adolescent such as Severus knew better than to look a gift-horse in the mouth, but standing in that musty smelling, damp, cold cellar room he suddenly began to wonder if perhaps he had made some errors in his judgment.
Severus could not deny that at first the promise of power and influence that would come from pledging his allegiance to the Dark Lord that Lucius had told him so much about, did indeed sound exhilarating, had stirred up something deep inside him, a burning desire to wield such power with vengeance towards those who had wronged him. However, it suddenly did not seem like such an equal trade, that his hatred for the Marauders was pale in comparison to the sacrifice he was about to make, that perhaps, Professor Dumbledore had been right all along, and it was foolish for a man to let his anger rule him. Unfortunately, now was not the time for reconsiderations, he was well beyond the point of no return, and that knowledge made him sick to his stomach.
Tension flowed on the sluggish air currents, radiating in waves from all those gathered into the low-ceilinged room, and that tension only grew more evident as the distance sound of whimpering and shuffling footsteps drew closer. Fear and dread clenched Severus' heart like an icy hand, causing his breath to catch in his throat and his pulse to race madly. A sharply delivered elbow to his side pushed out what little air remained in his lungs, as Lucius leaned closer to him and whispered excitedly, "This is when the real sport begins. Just you watch Severus, this will be a night you will never forget." Quickly resuming his original position, Lucius smoothed his immaculate robes, brushing imaginary specks of dust from his shoulders, but Severus only had eyes for the figures that approached them.
Emerging from the long and narrow hallway that lead deeper into the underbelly of Malfoy Manor, were several lumbering and black robed figures. However, it was who accompanied them that made his blood run cold and his gut roil uncontrollably with the desire to empty itself. Automatically the group fanned out around the room, forming a large circle around the nervous youths who had unconsciously clustered together at the entrance of the terrifying man who now strode around them slowly. At first glance, he appeared much as Severus recalled from the picture of him in an old yearbook, but upon closer inspection there was little left of that charismatically smiling boy. Tom Riddle was obviously in his youthful prime, his looks still dashing and no doubt attractive to the fairer sex, however, there was a drawn quality to his features that had not been present mere years ago. Sweeping around the room fluidly, with his pristine robes fluttering behind him, Tom came to a halt in the center of the room, a smile of dark pleasure curving his lips.
"Very good Lucius, you have brought more recruits than I had hoped. Such fervor and devotion will carry you far, my boy," he purred, his voice holding many of the same silken qualities as the man he was addressing, though a soft, almost unperceivable hiss lay beneath his words.
Mercifully, Hermione's voice cut through the cobwebs of his mind, bringing Severus back to the present before the true torture of his memories began. Slumping unceremoniously into his chair, he snatched up the abandoned tea cup and quickly drained it, a grimace marring his features as he swallowed the cold and bitter dregs.
"… will not reconsider, I have made up my mind about this," she was ranting as he came back to full awareness, his grimace only growing deeper as he turned ebony eyes on her.
"You really are thick-headed, aren't you?" he asked sharply, his cruel tone putting a swift end to her diatribe. For a moment, Hermione floundered helplessly, her lips moving though no sound came forth to fill the silence, until sputtering and indignant she choked, "I beg your pardon?"
"You may beg all you like, but it will amount to little," he murmured almost incoherently as he glared at her.
"What?" Hermione asked, his softly spoken words causing her to pause in her ranting and pacing and cast a puzzled glance his way.
"I was saying, Miss Granger, that you are obviously as ignorant and deluded as I perceive you to be," he replied flippantly, as he sank back into his chair, idly swirling the residue in his cup. "You lack the aptitude and conviction to truly achieve this task, rather, you do this simply for glory and fame," he continued snidely, his eyes narrowed to scrutinizing slits as he watched her tremble with barely restrained anger.
"Weren't you listening?" Hermione exclaimed, as she slammed her empty cup on the desk, threatening to shatter the delicate china as she rose to her feet.
"No, I fear, Miss Granger, that you are the one who was not listening," Severus replied in kind as he settled his cup on the desk more gently, albeit, only a little, and rose to his feet until he was towering above the young woman before him. "Have you not listened to a word I have said at countless Order meetings? Have you not heard the reports I have given, each one detailing the dangerous situations I have been forced to place myself in, or the horrendous acts I have had to commit in order to maintain my guise of faithful servant to the Dark Lord. You foolish child! Every day I live of this farce could be my last, each one is spent working tirelessly to find a way to bring down that foul and loathsome man who would slaughter you and your kind. I would not wish this existence upon anyone, Miss Granger, not even my most despised enemy, so why in the name of Merlin would I wish to draw you into this dark world?" he finished finally, feeling more breathless and exhausted than ever.
"It is for that very reason that I wish to do this!" Hermione shouted in reply, her cheeks flushed crimson with anger and her eyes flashing brightly in the torch light.
"You wish to commit suicide? I assure you, there are far less painful and potentially disastrous ways to do so. I can supply you with enough Draught of Living Death to silence even your tongue, Miss Granger," Severus snapped viciously as he slammed his hand down onto the desk, causing his cup to rattle dangerously close to the edge.
"No you fool!" Hermione seethed in frustration as she turned away from him, and began pacing back and forth in front of the desk, her hands curled into tight fists as her sides, while her wild hair cracked and sparked with angry magic.
"Then why? Why inflict such suffering not only upon yourself, but those around you? Your friends who need you, your teachers who care for you, and wish to see you succeed and continue on to do great things for our world. All of them will suffer greatly to see you endure such horrors and atrocities that await you, should you do this most stupid of things. Do you despise them all so much that you wish to make them experience more sorrow than they already have? Have they each not suffered enough?" he continued first in an angry tone that gradually grew desperate and pleading, his cold eyes taking on an expression of weariness that somehow warmed his gaze.
"No, that's not what I want at all," Hermione began as she stopped before his desk, her arms folded firmly across her chest. "I want to help, can't you see that?" she continued, barely restraining herself from yelling.
"By the Gods girl, may Merlin himself strike you down for such stubbornness!" Severus seethed passionately as he strode around his desk to stand in front of her, barely two feet separating them as he loomed over her, his stance mimicking Hermione's.
"You cannot change my mind no matter what you or the Headmaster have to say. I will do this with or without your help, Professor," she stated quietly with a sharp bite to her voice, before she swiftly turned on her heel, and snatching up her backpack walked across the room to the door. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she glanced back over her shoulder at the dark man standing shocked and unmoving in front of his desk. "Goodnight, Professor," she said at barely a whisper before opening the door and disappearing into the hallway, the large oaken door slamming shut behind her with a resounding thud that reverberated off of the walls, echoing back on Severus, sounding so much like nails driven into her impending coffin.
"Goodnight, Miss Granger, and good luck," Severus whispered dejectedly as he gazed for a moment longer at the closed door, his anger slowly boiling up within him until it roiled beneath the surface, infusing his cheeks with a crimson flush. A sudden scream of frustration erupted from his lips as he cursed Merlin, the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore for placing him in this position, his anger only dimming enough for him to regain control of himself once the tea service had been obliterated against the solid wood of his door, the remnants lying in a shattered heap on the floor.