Insanity

The Order were crammed into the smallish kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Most were seated at the table, but Severus Snape had taken his customary spot tucked away in the shadows of a corner where he could observe the mish-mash of people who had gathered to fight for the Greater Good. His stomach was tied in knots, and he felt the telltale signs of a headache blossoming behind his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he knew that this would be a difficult meeting and had beseeched Albus to excuse him from attending, on the basis that he had potions that needed his immediate attention. The headmaster, however, had simply told him to place a stasis charm over them and gave Severus a look that stated clearly that the discussion was closed.

Cursing Albus Dumbledore's name silently for the fiftieth time that night, he waited for him to open the blasted meeting so he could return all the more swiftly to his dungeons at Hogwarts.

As if on cue, Dumbledore stood and held up his aged hands. The room's occupants settled at once, and they all turned their attention to the elderly wizard at the head of the table.

"Friends," Albus opened with, and Severus made a noise in the back of his throat as he watched from the depths of his darkened corner. Most of the wizards and witches in this room were just as likely to spit on him as they were to throw the first hex, and he didn't kid himself that any of these people would call him "friend": acquaintances maybe, but even that was stretching the truth as far as it would extend.

Severus was pulled back from his thoughts as the headmaster continued.

"I come to you today to discuss a matter of grave importance," he spoke, eyeing each of the Order members around the long table.

"It has only recently come to my attention that our Head Girl, Miss Hermione Granger, went missing some time during the Easter break." There was a gasp around the table, and Molly Weasley, the matriarch of the Weasley family, covered her mouth with both of her hands. All heads turned towards her, and Severus noticed how her eyes were brimming, threatening to spill the tears that were gathering in her reddened eyes.

Arthur Weasley placed an arm on her back, rubbing small soothing circles on it as he turned his lips towards her ear and whispered something that was meant for his wife only. Molly visibly pulled herself together and straightened, slowly nodding her head at whatever it was that Arthur had said.

Albus cleared his throat, and all eyes turned from Molly and her husband towards the head of the Order again.

"Minerva and Severus, upon my request, went out the very night I heard the news, to investigate the Grangers' residence. Unfortunately, Mr and Mrs Granger failed to recognise Minerva; obviously they had both been Obliviated, as they had previously met her prior to Miss Granger's entry into Hogwarts. It is with a heavy heart that I must admit that I do not know what has befallen Miss Granger.

"While every effort will be made to find out just what did happen to Miss Granger after the attack on her parents' house, it is vital that Mr Potter should focus all his attention on preparing himself for his final meeting with Tom Riddle. We don't know when that may be, so he must not be allowed to tear off trying to find Miss Granger to rescue her, an action which would almost certainly result in failure and, very probably, in his capture by Death Eaters."

Here Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment before allowing his gaze to sweep around the table, resting for a second on each of the Order members. He allowed a look of contrition to pass over his face as he paused briefly, first on Arthur and then on Molly Weasley.

"I have therefore, with the greatest reluctance, given Mr Potter and Mr Ronald Weasley cause to believe that Miss Granger has, indeed... perished at the hands of Death Eaters. When Severus gives his report, he will go into further details. That is all."

"But, Albus –" Molly spoke before the headmaster could take his seat.

"Yes, Molly?" Albus replied. He was not looking forward to this particular interrogation and had hoped to palm off the Order's fears on to Severus.

"You said that you have given Harry and my Ronald cause to believe that Hermione is..." she paused here as more fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Arthur patted her on the back, feeding her his strength. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief that her husband had laid in her hands, gathered her resolve and continued, "that Hermione is dead." Albus nodded his head once, dreading where this conversation was heading.

"Knowing my son, and Harry too, I find it very hard to accept that they would have just taken you at your word; no offence." She paused again, and Albus nodded his head, indicating that he would not be offended if she were to speak her mind. Molly continued, looking a little abashed at the whole situation. "What I mean to say is, the three of them have been so close since they entered Hogwarts."

Various Order members nodded their heads. It seemed as though Molly had voiced what was on everyone's mind. Now that it was out in the open, they all looked expectantly at Albus.

Severus, who sat still in the darkened corner, mentally scoffed at this. He knew that no one had liked Miss Granger upon her arrival at the school, and they had become friends only because she had lied to save the boys during the troll incident in their first year. That the boys had achieved anything at all was due almost entirely to Miss Granger's brains. He sat up straighter as the Headmaster started to explain.

"It was impossible to eliminate all traces of doubt from their minds, and I therefore felt it necessary to invoke the Rem Celare." Albus held up both his hands as the kitchen exploded with angry voices. Order members were shouting at Albus as well as arguing with each other.

"Let the headmaster explain," Remus yelled, standing up and slamming both of his palms down on the table.

Everyone fell quiet at Remus's explosion; it was so atypical for him to speak at the Order meetings, unless directly questioned. He was more of a listener than an active participant.

"Thank you, Remus," Albus said, nodding his head at Remus, who then took his seat near the end of the table.

"As I was saying, I found it necessary to invoke the Rem Celare. It is not something that I am proud of, but I found it necessary in order to keep Mr Potter and Mr Weasley from running off secretly in search of Miss Granger without assistance from the Order. Mr Potter is not equipped to carry out such a task, and if he were to be captured or killed, not only would our cause be damaged, but I believe it would most probably put an end to the world as we know it."

There was mumbled acceptance at this as Dumbledore wearily sat down again and looked upon the faces of the Order members. Most of those who knew Hermione personally in one way or another had a look of deep sorrow etched upon their faces.

"Now I do believe Severus is ready to give his report. Severus, please." Dumbledore motioned to the darkened corner where the Potions master sat.

Severus sneered at the Head of the Order. It was just like the wizard to pass off the unpleasantness of the whole affair to his lackey: a man for whom none of them felt any sympathy, a man who was barely tolerated by them, and even then only because of the headmaster's trust in him.

He slowly rose from the shadows, wrapping his cloak around him as though to shield himself from the poisoned glares of the Order members. In truth, Lupin, and Molly and Arthur Weasley had looks of expectation on their faces, but it was equally true that most of the Order were staring at him as if they believed he had personally whisked Miss Granger away in the night for the express purpose of having his evil way with her.

He scoffed inwardly at the thought, even as he primed himself to reveal nothing on his face.

"I was summoned to meet with the Dark Lord yesterday evening," he began, then paused as Moody whispered something behind his hand. Severus scowled at the Auror, and Molly gave Mad-Eye one of the notorious glares that could make every one of her children, even the twins, squirm. Moody held both of his hands up, flicking his eyes back to the Potions master.

"I enlightened him to the fact that our Head Girl had failed to return from the Easter holidays and endeavoured to learn whether he was familiar with this fact," Severus continued. "He was not. So if the Dark Lord knows nothing of this development, I therefore must conclude that one of the Dark Lord's followers has taken Miss Granger from her home and Obliviated her parents. To what end, I am not certain; and as the Death Eaters are very tight-lipped at present, I must play this game with some sense of caution. I shall of course continue to enquire, but I shall have to be very delicate in my approach."

Severus, having given his report, was taking his seat when Moody spoke.

"Not so fast, Snape, I have a couple of questions for you myself," he growled out in his rough voice, standing up as if to bridge the distance between them.

Giving a sigh, Severus moved forward reluctantly from the shadows, his sanctuary, into the dimly lit space before his chair.

"Very well," Severus answered with a sneer and signalled for the old Auror to continue.

Moody cleared his throat before he begun his interrogation as he thought of it. "What exactly did you ask his Majesty?" He spat the final word as though he were mocking Severus, which indeed he was.

"One does not merely presume to question him and live to tell the tale," Severus replied, his eyes narrowing. "As I said before, I simply made him aware of the current situation, of which he knew absolutely nothing, and left it at that."

"What, are you afraid that he would Crucio you if you asked the scum if they knew about this?" Moody mocked, barking out a harsh laugh.

"That is exactly what I am implying," Severus replied in a tight voice, his temper rising as the headache he had previously managed to subdue made its presence felt with renewed force once more.

Severus's wand arm itched to hex the man so badly that he would have to be hospitalised in St Mungo's for a month.

"Coward," Mad-Eye whispered as he took his seat.

Severus's wand was in his hand before Moody was able to reclaim his chair, and he strode over to the ex-Auror within the blink of an eye.

"What did you call me?" Severus asked in a low and menacing voice, his wand a mere inch from Moody's throat.

Disbelief was predominant on the faces of the Order as they froze in shock at how quickly the important subject of Miss Granger's disappearance had turned into a duelling match between the two wizards. No one so much as breathed as they waited for Moody to respond.

"Coward," Moody growled out, straightening himself as he swiftly took a step back and drew his own wand, his chair clattering to the ground and breaking the spell that held the others immobile.

Moody held his own wand in his hand, pointed directly at the Death Eater as both men faced each other breathing deeply.

"Gentlemen," Albus commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife, "that is quite enough."

Neither of the two wizards appeared likely to be the first to back down as they continued to stare at each other, neither blinking.

"I said, that is enough." Albus's voice reverberated around the room this time, and Severus lowered his wand grudgingly, never taking his eyes off Moody, who gave him a smug grin.

"Alastor, the same goes for you," Albus said in a much more controlled voice.

"But of course, Albus," Moody replied, dropping his wand to his side.

"Severus, you may take your seat," Albus said, looking at the man in question.

Severus bowed his head towards the headmaster before leaning forward until his nose almost touched that of the gnarled wizard's half nose before him. Moody's eyes widened, and his smug smile quickly vanished as Severus lowered his voice to a deadly whisper, targeted so that the old Auror alone could hear.

"If I ever hear you brand me that name again, I shall hunt you down and kill you myself, but nobody but you and I will know that it was anything other than a most unfortunate accident." That said, Severus turned around and made his way back to his seat in the shadows.

Moody's smug smile vanished as he heard Snape's threat. Although he could take care of himself, he held no misconceptions about Snape's volatile temper. Moody knew he was quite capable of carrying out his threat.

The rest of the meeting was strained as the Order devoted the remaining time to trying to devise a way of learning the whereabouts of Miss Hermione Granger.

***

It had been a month since that fateful night when Harry's world had come crashing down around him. He couldn't sleep tonight – not that his sleep had been peaceful these last four weeks anyway – but tonight thoughts of Hermione's broken body, eyes staring up at him blankly, kept invading his mind every time he closed his eyes.

He turned over, roughly pulling his sheets with him, and sighed. There was no possible way he was going to get any rest tonight. His school work was suffering, but he didn't care, not when everyone he had ever loved was dropping like flies around him and it was all his fault.

He heard light snores coming from the others in his dorm room and threw his pillow over his head to try to drown out the noise. It was then that he heard Hermione's voice pleading with him, asking him why he had abandoned her to her fate. He shivered and, sitting up in bed quickly, he threw the pillow to the floor and then kicked off his sheets. He could no longer lie there pretending he had any chance of sleeping.

He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his glasses. Placing them roughly on his face, he moved silently to his trunk at the foot of the bed. Opening it, he searched around for his Invisibility Cloak. Finding it stuffed under some books, he straightened up, closed the trunk and threw the cloak over his body.

He moved with soft footfalls out of the portrait hole and headed downstairs. The castle was eerily quiet this night, and he passed no one, not even a ghost, as he made his descent into the belly of the castle. It seemed that he was standing before the door to the room where his Potions class was held in the blink of an eye. He noticed that there was light shining underneath the door and steeled his nerves for the confrontation that was surely to come.

Harry raised a slightly shaking hand to the heavy wooden door and knocked firmly, his hand falling to his side as he waited. He was about to raise his fist and knock once more, when the door was yanked open, and on the other side stood his scowling Potions master.

Severus scanned the corridors, his eyes narrowing as his head went to and fro. Not seeing anyone, a look of fury formed on his features. He was about to slam his door shut once more, when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Severus was momentarily in shock as his brain urged him to grab for his wand.

"Excuse me, Sir," the unmistakable voice of the bane of his existence pleaded, "may I please come in and have a word with you?"

Severus emphatically did not want to talk to the irksome child, and was about to send him on his way with a week's worth of detention and the Gryffindor hourglass a little less full of its rubies, but something in the boy's voice made Severus pause. He inclined his head and stood aside to let him enter.

Taking off the Invisibility Cloak, Harry stepped over the threshold into the Potions classroom. As Severus closed the door quietly, he whirled around and took in the boy standing before him. He was dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and a Muggle t-shirt two sizes too big for him. Never before had Severus seen the boy look so distressed; his eyes were wide behind his glasses, imploring Severus to listen to what he had to say. The tongue-lashing that he had prepared died on his lips.

Sighing, he made his way over to his desk and took up his customary chair, sweeping the essays he had been marking to one side and motioning for the boy to take the seat on the other side of the large desk.

Harry walked slowly, shuffling his bare feet as he went. Severus noticed how he gripped the cloak in his hands as though it had the power to ground him to the tangible world.

Harry's mind was in overdrive. He had so much to say to the man before him, and he half wished that he would explode with his usual sharp-tongued sarcasm just so Harry could have the pleasure of pinning his friend's death on the ex-Death Eater.

But Harry had done a lot of thinking in the last fortnight and had come to the conclusion that he had been unfair to the Potions master. Certainly, Snape had appeared to hate him from the moment he had entered Hogwarts, and Harry didn't understand why, but he had returned that hatred in full measure and had allowed that hate to blind him to what, he now believed, was the truth.

While the other Professors – Dumbledore, McGonagall, and even Hagrid – had treated him as a child, and kept vital knowledge away from him, only Professor Snape had expected him to behave like an adult. Yes, his lessons had been harsh, but he had forced him to think and to observe, and above all not to put his trust blindly in anyone. Unlike Dumbledore, who, like a puppet-master, expected Harry to carry out tasks with complete trust and without question, Snape wanted Harry to ask questions, wanted him to think for himself. And Harry had fought him all the way, instead of seeing that he was being prepared for battle; to play his part in a war that was inevitable, a war that he and he alone could end.

It was all crystal clear to him now, it was as though a light had been switched on in his mind, and it shone so brightly that Harry had to wonder why the hell he had never seen it before.

This man before him had protected him from Quirrell in his first year; from Remus in werewolf form in his third; and in his fourth year had taken the huge risk of showing Fudge his burning Dark Mark in a futile attempt to warn the Minister of the danger facing them all. He repeatedly went to Voldemort's side whenever he was Summoned to obtain information that would assist the Order, although the slightest suspicion on Voldemort's part that Snape might be a spy would result in his torture and death. He thought back to the countless times the dark-haired wizard had had the opportunity to snatch him from Hogwarts and take him to Voldemort, but it had never happened, and he wanted to slap himself for being so blind to the facts.

No wonder Snape was so often infuriated with Harry. He was trying to keep him safe, all the while treading a fine line with his Slytherins. The parents of many of them were Death Eaters and would eagerly report any small sign of favouritism towards the Dark Lord's nemesis, and Harry had, however unwittingly, made sure that tales of his defiance of the Potions master went back to Voldemort. For one brief moment, Harry allowed himself to feel deep regret for all the many times he had caused pain and difficulties for the solitary man before him.

He shook his head, a glance of repentance crossing his features as he took his seat across from the man whom, he had decided only moments ago, he could trust above all others. If Harry had his facts right, and everything pointed to the actuality that he did, then reality as he had known it had been turned on its head. Despite the Dark Mark on his left forearm, proclaiming his allegiance to his Dark Lord, the man seated before him was unquestionably not on the side of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but on the side of Harry and his friends.

Harry took his seat and looked up at the inscrutable man. This was a man that they had all despised for the last six and a half years; and yet now he felt certain that Snape wouldn't lie to him. He had never before minced his words, and Harry knew instinctively that he would not do so now.

Severus waited patiently for the boy to speak. He seemed to be fighting an inner battle with himself between coming out and saying what he really wanted to say and walking away. Finally, Harry spoke.

"Sir, I was just wondering if it were true? About Hermione?" Harry asked, his voice tight with emotion and his eyes filled with dread at the thought of what his professor would say.

Severus felt the rising anger abate and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. He knew the boy was worried over his friend; hell, if he was truly honest, he would admit he too was worried, but that would do nothing for his image as the dreaded Potions master, bat of the dungeons, and all-round evil git, so he kept the thought to himself.

"Yes," was all he whispered, and for a second he didn't know what had come over him. He had never before cared what Potter thought of him, but right now the notion that this boy, this young man, he corrected himself, needed the truth about his best friend, and something about his willingness to face the truth made his heart beat a little faster.

He could read the emotions on Potter's face without the aid of Legilimency and knew that he could not go into battle without his help.

Harry nodded his head at that. A look of resolution passed across his face as he sat straighter.

"So, it's up to me to end this war, then?" he asked the Potions professor.

Severus just nodded his head once.

"Sir?" he paused as though it was difficult for him to continue, but after a few seconds of expectant waiting, he did so. "I was wondering something," pausing again, he took a deep breath in and rushed on. "I know that we haven't exactly been friends..." he started as he looked into the dark eyes of the man across the desk.

Severus wanted to snort at this, but held his annotations to himself for now.

"And I know you can't show me any favouritism in class, but I was wondering if we could work together?" Harry's green eyes looked into Severus' black ones imploringly as though his whole world depended on what the dark-haired wizard seated before him would say to the words he had just spoken.

Severus's first reaction was that this had to be some sort of prank, but then looking into the young man's eyes he saw his earnestness, and he was floored by the all-encompassing emotions that crossed Potter's face.

"I don't mean you have to like me," Harry quickly added when the silence became too much, "all I'm asking for is that we can be civilised to one another," Severus raised an eyebrow at that. "I mean in private," Harry hastily added.

Severus inclined his head, once more speechless at the maturity that Potter was showing. "Very well, Potter," he replied, and for once there was no malice behind his words.

"Harry," the young man across from him whispered, and when a look of disbelief crossed Severus's face, he added, "My name, Sir, is Harry."

Severus almost wanted to pinch himself. Was he dreaming? But before he could check, Potter – Harry, his mind supplied – spoke once more.

"Did she suffer?" he asked, his eyes wide with apprehension. Severus knew that everything hinged on his answer.

"I do not know," he answered truthfully, not quite believing that he was having this conversation with the boy who had been a blight on his life for the last six and a half years.

"I will kill him for this," Harry said, his fists clenched and a new tone in his voice letting Severus know he was deadly serious. Determination and purpose were etched on a suddenly more mature face. It was as though he had grown up years in the four hours since Severus had last seen him sullenly eating in the Great Hall.

Harry's eyes had been opened wide to the true danger out there, and while he knew he was safe at Hogwarts, he couldn't hide within the school forever. Before too long he would have to venture outside the gates that protected the school and kept them all safe, and he would be done for if he was not prepared. Harry may not like it, but he knew that if the prophecy was correct, then he and Voldemort would have to face each other one last time, and he wanted to be as entirely trained as possible for the confrontation.

Harry would hide no more; he would be ready to stand up and fight. And whether he was victorious, or fell at Voldemort's feet, he would give all that was in him.

"Will you teach me Occlumency?" Harry asked, a new fortitude in his voice as he bowed his head and his words came out in a rush. "It's just that I don't want him entering my mind ever again, and I know I betrayed your trust before back in fifth year, but I promise that I am ready to learn it now and will do whatever you tell me. I will do whatever it takes to end this war, for her." His voice faded away at the mention of the female member of the Golden Trio. It was as though Hermione's name was taboo, as if the refusal to utter a name he had used for the last six and a half years, would prove to himself and to everyone else that she was gone forever.

Now it was down to himself and Ron, and although he had not mentioned the fact that he was coming down to the dungeons tonight, he was sure that his best friend would back him on whatever decision he made. After all, they had been through everything else together.

"I will," Severus replied. He didn't feel a great rush of affection for the young wizard, but he felt a respect he could never feel for the Dark Lord. He would prepare him for the forthcoming battle that he knew was as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow. And the gods give him strength, but he would become a mentor to him, if it meant ending the war and saving countless lives.

He couldn't help an ironic inward smirk at the thought that James Potter would be whirling in his grave at the thought that the hated Severus Snape would become mentor to his son. Lily's son, he added to himself as he regarded the green eyes looking directly into his own black ones.

Harry nodded as he stood up, pushing his chair away before tucking it back under the desk. Severus too, stood, feeling awkward and not quite trusting his voice.

They walked slowly and silently to the door as Harry once more covered himself in his Invisibility Cloak. Severus felt as if a huge burden was lifted off his shoulders; however, his mind was awhirl with all the preparations it would take to change this young man before him into the warrior he would need to become to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Harry Potter, the one who had made his task of double agent that much harder, had grown up and was ready to take on the responsibility that was his, and his alone, of finally ridding the Wizarding and Muggle worlds of the megalomaniac who had caused so much evil and suffering for the past twenty years.

It had taken the apparent death of his friend to make him suddenly mature. It was the hardest of all lessons, and Severus found himself wishing that it didn't have to be this way. But he himself had witnessed more than his share of horrors and knew there was no easy way to acquire the strength that would equip him to face the Dark Lord as an equal. To wish it could be otherwise was a foolish and hopeless exercise

***

Hermione sits on the small cot in her dungeon prison, rocking back and forth in a calming motion, her hands wrapped tightly around her legs, which are pulled up to her chest. She isn't crying, as it seems all of her tears were spent eons ago. She stares blankly at the wall, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

Each day has become the worst day of her miserable life. Just when she thinks it can't get any worse, Lucius, the Devil Incarnate, as she thinks of him, manages to devise a new form of torture to bestow upon her. Whether it be psychological or physical torture is of little difference, as both are capable of working under her skin like a worm until she screams out in agony.

It generally feels as if the seconds are crawling by until, all too soon, they will stop altogether. She wonders whether she is the only living, breathing person on the entire planet.

Ha. She scoffs at that reflection. Obviously, she's not alone – the food keeps on arriving and so does her captor. Tick tock; she can hear the seconds passing by like an internal clock in her brain. Tick tock, tick tock.

She had given in to her subjugator's relentless pursuits, finally acknowledging that there was no way out of this hellhole that was her existence. After the first time, when he had tortured her until she had passed out, he has generally been using a psychological approach. Sometimes he made her violently ill by poisoning her food or her drink. Her stomach cramps up until she throws up her meagre meal. She never knows when the food will be tainted, and after a while she gives up trying to guess, as she has reached such a state of chronic starvation she no longer cares.

He has now added to his inventory a piercing scream that echoes throughout the small chamber in which she is held. It can erupt at any time, and there is no discernable pattern as to when it will begin or end. The high-pitched noise leaves her nerves on edge and her mental state hanging by a thread. There are also the blinding, flashing lights that had been introduced as part of his mental torture; she has learnt to tolerate these, however, as she knows he is too busy to come for her.

She thinks that he is something of a genius in his sadism when the stone floor beneath her feet turns from freezing cold to boiling hot in a moment. As she sits on her cot, cradling her burnt feet, she has to give him credit for truly knowing how to break a captive. But she won't give in; even though she outwardly appears to have done so, she knows inside that she will never, ever, give up

But she wonders whether it would really matter if she did? If she gives in to her keeper, would he treat her better? She highly doubts that and laughs within the confines of her mind at her own stupidity. Perhaps she is going mental, as Ron has so often said. Loopier than Luna Lovegood.

As he had promised, she is not able to harm herself. Her hair never becomes tangled, and she never smells unclean, although her living conditions are anything but sanitary. She is never sick; well, no colds or flu at least, not even a sniffle. It was as though she is living in an alternate universe, but this particular microcosm is one of constant torment and agony. It is her life, but she can't even put an end to it if she wants to.

And so, she goes through the motions of eating and sleeping whenever she can. But it is only a semblance of reality, for she does not truly reside within her outward form. She is safely locked away within the confines of her mind, never truly present in her physical body; therefore, no one can harm her.

Oh, but he tries. He tries to break her with his mind games and petty torture and the pursuit of her body, and she thinks she would have snapped like a twig ages ago, if it had not been for her mental strength and her vivid imagination.

Her parents are dead. At least, that is what the madman has told her. They had been murdered by his own hand, and he comes into her small prison to gloat about it on a regular basis. She had thrown up the first time she had heard him speak of it in vivid detail, and she can only assume that he had spoken the truth. Hermione believes he is capable of the most abominable falsehoods simply to fuck with her mind, but she deems he is not lying about this. Her captor rarely jests about homicide unless it is in his mirth after a slaughtering or a particularly fine spot of Muggle hunting.

She is not privy to any information relating to their 'cause,' as the demon refers to it. If he ever lets slip any information, she is usually too deep within the confines of her mind to hear much of what he is saying. And just who would she tell anyway? The rats that share her cell with her? Perhaps one of them could get a message through to Harry and Ron?

She ponders this thought and laughs out loud at its absurdity. Perhaps he has indeed robbed her of the one thing that made her Hermione Granger – her intellectual competence.

If she were ever to escape this place – which she is almost positive she would not – she would have the blond-haired demon tortured and killed with excruciating slowness. Perhaps she would do it herself. The concept that she could be capable of something so cruel and unfeeling scares her a bit, but how could anyone retain moral compunction after an experience such as this one? She has begun to entertain fantasies of burning him alive in his precious mansion and then dancing upon the ashes.

She stops her rocking and turns her head to the side with extraordinary slowness. Closing her eyes, she luxuriates in the exquisite vision of his agonised screams as he pleads for mercy while he slowly becomes one of the many tortured souls in his own house of horrors.

A smile flitters across her face, and she is able to make out his tormented shrieks as she watches from outside Malfoy Mansion, watches and waits.

She used to hold out hope for rescue, but left that little fantasy behind with her virginity and subsequent torture. She supposes somewhere within herself she still believes in the prospect of a better world, one where she would be surrounded by people who are able to distinguish between right and wrong, love and lust, good and evil. Why she continues to clutch at such delusions is simply beyond her. These wizards known as Death Eaters are certainly not capable of such humanity. Anything human that may have lived inside them at some point in their wretched lives has long since rotted away. What lives in their souls – if they do indeed still possess them – is black and cold, something more akin to a demon than an embodiment of human nature.

She has come to believe that Harry and Ron were never particularly fond of her anyway and were only using her because they required her intelligence. She twists her head to the side slowly, letting that thought fester within her mind.

Yes, she thinks to herself, they would most certainly be having more fun without her to impede them with her constant nagging for them both to study.

If they hadn't come by now, then they weren't going to come at all. She was sure she wasn't missed, and they had probably been glad to be rid of her.

Yes, she thinks bitterly, who would miss a know-it-all when all is said and done? No one, was the answer her mind supplied.

And so she sits there in the dank dungeon cell, staring out into the abyss as the seconds of her wretched life tick by, and she resumes her steady rocking back and forth, back and forth.

***

A/N: Thank you to each and everyone who has taken the time to read this and leave a review. You guys rock my world. All I ask is that if you read it, you leave a review. I'm not asking for much, really.

To my wonderful betas, AmyLouise and deathofme, thank you so very much for sticking with me. Love you, girls!