Hermione came to in a dimly-lit dungeon that smelled of blood and stale urine. It was the smell that roused her from unconsciousness. She looked around, eyes half closed, and realized there was someone else in the room. He was chained to the opposite wall, staring straight at her, his cold black eyes too far away to read. It was Professor Snape.

"You okay?" He asked.

Hermione ignored his question. The last time she had seen her old potion's teacher, he was on a broomstick along with his fellow Death Eaters, shooting a sectumsempra curse at George Weasley. "What the fuck are you doing down here?"

"Being held prisoner," he offered, "what does it look like?" There was a slight tone of passivity in his voice that Hermione had never heard before.

"I mean," she began, adjusting her tone to one of polite formality, "why are you locked in a dungeon with me when you should be at Hogwarts, reigning over the brainwashing and torture going on up there?"

Snape gave a bored sigh. "Probably because the Dark Lord has figured out that I'm a double agent and intends to kill me once I've outlived my uselfullness."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "But... you killed Dumbledore!" She blurted, "you're a Death Eater."

"Yes, I killed Dumbledore, per his own request. No, I'm not a Death Eater, haven't been for seventeen years." Snape turned to look at something he apparently found very interesting on the brick wall next to him. Hermione didn't understand a word Snape was saying, but at that moment she didn't care anymore. She needed to get out of the goddamn dungeon.

"How long have you been down here?" She asked Snape.

"Three weeks? Maybe four."

"Do you know where we are?"

"No idea. We could be at Malfoy's or Tanzania for all I know."

"We're not at Malfoy's. I've seen the dungeons down there." Hermione frowned. Malfoy's...they escaped from Malfoy manor because of...

"Dobby!" Hermione yelled.

Snape gave her a bewildered look. "Dobby?"

"Ron, Harry, and I escaped Malfoy Manor because Dobby, the house elf, apparated into the dungeon and took us all to safety! All we have to do is call a house elf and they can rescue us!"

"Hermione, I've tried everything, Voldemort has sealed us off completely."

Hermione ignored him once more. "Kreacher!" She yelled. "Kreacher, we need you!"

"Isn't he Potter's elf now?" Snape raised his voice over Hermione's shouts.

"Shit," Hermione muttered, "you're right. Only Harry can summon him. I don't own any house elves."

"Wouldn't that go against your philosophies on life?"

Hermione looked at Snape, bemused. "How do you about that?"

"I'm a spy, I pay attention to my surroundings."

Hermione found it a bit strange that Snape knew about her passion for elf rights, but she didn't press the matter. She stole a few glances at the man across from her as they fell silent. His hair was long, unkempt, and wild, much like Sirius's had been when he had escaped Azkaban. Hermione hadn't noticed earlier due to the dim lighting and general difficulty she was experiencing keeping her eyes open that Snape was half-naked. He wore a pair of black jeans and nothing else, and she could see many angry welts on his surprisingly toned, broad chest.

"Why don't you have a shirt on?" She blurted, realizing that this new discovery made her decidedly uncomfortable.

"Why don't you?" Snape answered.

Hermione gasped and looked down. She was wearing a slip that was practically see-through. "Fuck! Don't look!" She yelled. "This isn't mine, why the Hell am I wearing it?"

"Because your clothes are in the wash?" Snape said sarcastically.

"Bugger this," Hermione said, "I'm getting out of here. There has to be a way. No one is going to touch me."

"There is no escape, Hermione."

"I'm a witch, dammit! A fucking good one, too. There has to be something I can do, something you missed"-

"Look around you! There are no doors, no windows, we're bound by our wrists to the fucking wall. Oh yeah, and we have no wands."

"You've heard of natural magic, haven't you?" Hermione said in a quieter voice, almost afraid of what she was saying.

"Of course I have. The only two people I've heard of that could ever achieve such mental focus were Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort, and neither of them are going to be much help to us now."

"I can do it."

Snape stared. "Are you kidding me?"

"I've done it," Hermione began tentatively. "A few months ago, when Harry, Ron, and I were staying at Grimmauld Place, it was morning and I needed my wand, so I looked at it lying there on the dressing table and- and it suddenly appeared in my hand."

Snape looked at her a moment longer, probably trying to decide whether she'd been tortured into insanity. "Okay, say I believe you," he said finally, "what then? That was a tiny bit of magic, the smallest amount of concentration was needed to bring that wand to you. Also, you'd just woken up, so your mind was exceptionally clear at that precise moment. You did it because you weren't trying. It was practically an accident!"

"Fine, then we'll just wait for them to come and rape me. You don't care what happens, do you? You've given up." Hermione looked away from him, disgruntled by his lack of faith in her. But then, what had she expected? Even if he was telling the truth, and he was in fact fighting for the Order, he was still the same asshole.