Photograph

Ministry bylaws compelled wizards to visit a hand-witch's bed for four consecutive nights during her fertile period, barring illness or unavoidable absence from the home; Snape did not return to Hermione's bed the night after Umbridge's visit, or the following night.

Hermione's feelings were a strange mixture of perplexity and relief, but the books in the reading-room provided a suitable distraction from her jumbled emotions. As she methodically read each book, her fingers itched for a quill and she longed for a bit of parchment on which to take notes. To wish for a wand with which to practice the new spells was futile, but on occasion she wished she had one just the same.

After three days of reading interrupted only by lonely meals, Hermione began to wonder where Snape was and what he was doing.

"Fritzlee, where is Snape?" she asked one early afternoon between bites of roasted beef and mashed potatoes.

"Fritzlee not know, miss. Master Snape not be home for two whole days."

Hermione thought she detected a note of concern in the elf's voice.

"Not even at night, to sleep?"

The elf shook her head.

"I take it that's unusual for him," she said.

The elf nodded, her large eyes searching Hermione's face for an answer she didn't have.

After lunch, Hermione climbed the main-stairs and was about to follow the corridor back to the reading-room when she paused. She had been in Snape's home for nearly three weeks, and she still knew little of her purpose there. Her assumption that Snape merely wanted her to produce a child for him was contradicted by the fact that he had missed two visits to her bed during her fertile period – unless he'd had more pressing matters to attend. When she thought about it, she realized that she knew next to nothing about Snape's life. The other wizards in whose homes she had been placed had families, jobs and friends; by all appearances, Snape had none of these. His isolation and distrustful behavior had made sense years earlier at Hogwarts – the wizard had been a spy then – but why now?

Answers were not going to come to her, she realized; she would have to go in search of them. She was standing next to two corridors she had never used, one to her left and the other straight ahead. She took five tentative steps down the corridor in front of her and stopped. The route to and from the few rooms that Snape had shown her had quickly become second nature to her. Maybe she could map the rest of the house in a similar manner, maybe even find Snape's laboratory where Fritzlee thought she had heard voices on previous occasions.

She continued down the corridor, carefully counting her steps until she came to a wall. She turned right and counted another ten steps before turning around and retracing her path back to the front of the stairs. She was confident that if she paid careful attention to where she was going and didn't stray too far, she would not become lost. By the next day, she had explored three new corridors and discovered two new rooms. Her excursions through the house, however, came to a sudden halt that evening, when she walked into the kitchen to find Snape sitting at the dinner table.

His eyes turned to her when she entered, but he didn't otherwise acknowledge her.

"Good evening, sir."

Hermione took her seat across from him. It was the first time she felt awkward in his presence, and she attributed it to guilt over wandering around the house behind his back. Even Fritzlee seemed uncharacteristically subdued as she made ready to serve their meal.

"How are your studies coming along?"

The question surprised Hermione; she thought of her daily reading as studying, but had not anticipated that he viewed it in the same light.

"Very well, sir, although I do have some questions."

Snape seemed amused by her statement.

"Perhaps after dinner I could go over the material with you and answer some of those questions."

It was a strange offer coming from Snape, but not one Hermione was about to refuse. Whatever else he was, the man was a brilliant wizard and not too reprehensible a teacher for a student who could apply himself while ignoring Snape's insults and constant pessimism – Hermione knew she could do both.

Her resolve wavered four days later during a particularly taxing study session. Her days had settled into an easy and surprisingly rewarding routine in which she spent most of the day reading. In the evenings, Snape would join her for dinner, during which time they would discuss her reading. Afterwards, they would both retire to the reading-room for a series of grueling lessons. After the first day, Snape had begun to assign Hermione specific readings, which to her surprise consisted mostly of material on defensive spells.

While Hermione struggled to master the nuances of spell-casting without the assistance of a wand, Snape's mood had grown gradually dourer, his verbal attacks increasingly vicious.

On the fourth night, he snatched a book out of her hand and slammed it against a chair. Hermione winced but refused to cow before him.

They were working on a particularly complicated spell used to erect a sustainable, invisible ward – Hermione suspected it was the same type of barrier she had heard the Death Eaters used during their attack on Hogwarts. She had done her best to duplicate the complex series of movements required to cast the spell while carefully enunciating the incantation, but without verifiable results, which were impossible to obtain without the use of a wand, it was difficult to discern if she was doing it right. A mirror would have been helpful, but Snape had not offered one, and she didn't want to ask for too much, unwilling to jeopardize their tenuous relationship.

"This is pointless!" Snape bellowed.

"Knowledge is never pointless," Hermione stated firmly.

"It is, Miss Granger, when it is not applied. As elegant as your movements are, they are still imprecise. I'm not certain that they would produce a barrier of sufficient strength."

He stopped short of saying what she was thinking – that she needed a wand so that he could verify the strength of her barrier. At least he hadn't said that her efforts were so pathetic that he was certain they wouldn't produce a barrier at all.

"Then show me again," she demanded.

He walked around her. His left arm snaked around her waist, while his right hand gripped her wrist firmly. His closeness struck her as inappropriate at first; she didn't recall him ever touching one of his students in this manner while at Hogwarts, not even to illustrate correct wand movements. She reminded herself that she was no longer a child or his student; she was a witch rented out to him by the Ministry to bed and impregnate – she found the reminder even more unsettling.

"Widen your stance. The recoil from the wand as it discharges would upset your balance with your feet so close together."

She complied with his simple instruction; it was something that any Second Year student would have considered, but it had been too many years since she had actually felt the recoil of a wand, and she was grateful when he didn't chastise her for the oversight.

He brought her hand first up straight ahead, back down and up again in a wide arc, above her head with a slight turn, and straight forward with a half-flick at the end. His hold tightened around her midriff, pulling her back against his chest, and a puff of warm air ghosted over her hair. She told herself it was nothing, just Snape instinctively bracing against the recoil that would have resulted if he had indeed been casting the spell, but Hermione could not ignore the flutter of pleasure that fleeted over her lower abdomen at the unexpected contact.

Snape's hands remained even after the moment had passed, supporting her wrist and holding her against him. Time itself seemed to stand still for Hermione as his hand slowly slipped from her waist and settled over her abdomen, his splayed fingers gentle against her skin through the coarse fabric of her robe.

It was a perverse longing, to want to be touched with tenderness and desire if not with love – to want to be touched by him.

"It's not my fertile period... It's against regulation," she whispered, not sure if she was talking to Snape or to herself.

He abruptly released her, and Hermione took a faltering step to steady herself. When she turned to look at him, Snape was already returning the books to their shelf.

"That will be enough for tonight; I suggest you get some rest."

Hermione nodded. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Miss Granger," Snape said over his shoulder as he marched out of the room.

The following morning, Hermione learned from Fritzlee that Snape had left the house during the night and had not returned.

He was still gone after dinner that evening, and Hermione decided to explore more of the house, still determined to find out as much about Snape and his activities as she possibly could.

She traveled down a long corridor and came to an unfamiliar-looking room. Every room she had been in before beginning her exploration of the house had been stationary. She had quickly discovered that finding rooms that were not was a little more complicated than counting and retracing her steps. Snape had said that there were clues, and Hermione had set about finding those – no easy task since she had no idea what exactly she was looking for.

She was about to begin retracing her steps when she noticed a slight shift in the temperature of the room. It started with a cool, gentle breeze that rustled her hair. Soon the room shimmered and began to change, until a few seconds later she was standing in a completely different room without having taken a step – the room with the portraits she had seen on her first day at the house.

Taking notice of the new development – while aware that the rooms shifted, she had never actually seen it happen – Hermione turned around and left the room the same way she had come. A few steps down a short corridor, she encountered a door unlike any other she had previously seen in the house. All the other doors were plain, ordinary wooden doors; this one was massive and decorated with an intricate carving of a forest densely populated by trees so tall that they seemed to disappear straight into the ceiling. A dozen wooden snakes slithered through the branches of the trees, hissing softly. Hermione knew she had to continue forward if she was to retrace her steps back to the main staircase, but each time she attempted to move, the hissing of the snakes increased in intensity.

Hermione stepped away from the door, concerned that she would activate any protective wards that Snape might have set up. She would just have to find another way back to her room.

A half-hour and several failed attempts later, Hermione was forced to admit that she was utterly lost. She tried not to let panic overtake her, even if her options were limited – she could continue to wander around the house and hope to find her bedroom before Snape returned and found her, or...

"Fritzlee!" she called out tentatively.

The elf appeared in front of Hermione with a loud pop. "Miss be calling? Miss be wanting..." The elf gasped and her eyes grew wide. "Miss not supposed to be here!"

"I know, Fritzlee – I'm lost. I was wondering if you could show me the way back to..."

Hermione followed Fritzlee's wide gaze to the massive wooden door at the end of the hall. If the door had been there a moment earlier, Hermione had failed to notice it, but she recognized the carving of the forest and the snakes. She thought back to what Snape had said: Some rooms change location but not appearance, and there are clues to finding those – the distinct door was likely a clue, which meant it lead to a functional room, one that Snape would have need to find.

"Fritzlee, where does that door lead?" Hermione asked.

The elf grew agitated. "That be Master Snape's laboratory, miss! Miss not supposed to be here!" the elf practically screeched.

Hermione was elated even though she had no idea how to find the room again – at least she knew how to recognize it when she did, and that was progress.

"It's alright, Fritzlee, it's alright," she tried to assure the elf. "We can leave; just show me the way back to my room."

Before Hermione knew what was happening, the elf grabbed her hand and Apparated them both to Hermione's bedroom.

Still reeling from the sudden change in location, Hermione whirled around to face the elf. "You can perform Side-Along Apparition inside the house!" she exclaimed.

The elf nodded, visibly confused by Hermione's excitement.

Hermione had long been aware that house-elves could Disapparate and Apparate through magical wards – how else would they get around heavily warded places like Hogwarts Castle and the homes of rich pure-bloods? That they possessed the ability to perform Side-Along Apparation under the same circumstances was a revelation to her.

It took some fast talking on Hermione's part to convince Fritzlee that she wouldn't be doing anything wrong by finding Hermione every time she called and Apparating her to her bedroom, or by not telling Snape about her Miss' wanderings – unless the wizard specifically asked, in which case she was to tell the truth.

It felt dishonest to use the elf in such a manner, and Hermione had never been one to believe that the end justified the means. She consoled herself with the idea that, if discovered, she would take full responsibility for her actions and do everything she could to protect the elf.

Snape did not return for two more days, and by then Hermione had made considerable progress in her mapping of the house, although the knowledge of how to reliably find her way to Snape's laboratory still eluded her.

Snape seemed in a particularly foul mood when he joined her in the kitchen for lunch. He dropped a package in front of her. "You have post," he ground out before taking his seat.

Hermione stared at the parcel with her name carefully written on it in blue ink.

"It's... I don't understand."

No one except Snape had used her name in seven years – only those who had known her before the end of the war even knew her name. Hand-witches were by law stripped of their identities, both literally and figuratively. Each was assigned a number to replace her name, and the title 'Of' followed by the last name of the wizard to which they were assigned was a practicality that made more sense when one added the word 'Property' in front of the 'Of.'

"It's a parcel, Miss Granger. Have you gone daft? Open it!" Snape ordered.

Hermione tore into the package, and her fingers slid over a smooth surface that felt like glass. When she had removed all the paper, Hermione was left holding a framed photograph of a little girl about a year old, dressed in pink, ruffled robes and with a pink bow perched on top of a head-full of brown curls. The toddler sat on a mauve velvet chair, bouncing and gurgling, her chubby arms reaching toward the camera.

Hermione couldn't speak. Her hands trembled and she clutched the photograph more firmly, afraid she would drop it. She glanced across the table at Snape, whose attention seemed riveted on the plate of food in front of him.

"Do you know what this is?" she finally managed to whisper.

He had to know; he had never even bothered to glance in her direction as she opened the package.

Snape's eyes shot up to meet hers. "It's a gift to you from Madam Crispus," he stated dryly.

Tears filled Hermione's eyes, and she didn't know how much longer she could sustain a rational conversation before she dissolved into sobs.

"Madam Crispus doesn't know my name, and even if she did, she wouldn't use it," Hermione stated, not sure why it mattered who had sent her a photograph of her daughter, only that it did.

"You would be surprised, Miss Granger, what people will do when provided with proper incentive."

Hermione fleetingly wondered with what kind of incentive Snape had provided Madam Crispus in order to convince her to send the photograph. Not money – the Crispuses had plenty of that – coercion was more likely.

"Why would you do something like this?" she asked Snape.

The wizard seemed genuinely taken aback by her question. "Lucius mentioned you had a child; I thought you would like to know she is well and see what she looks like. Was I wrong in this assumption?"

Hermione pressed the photograph to her chest and shook her head. No, he had not been wrong – he just hadn't realized how much it would hurt her to look at a photograph of a child she could never hold, and neither had she.

"Contrary to appearances, Miss Granger, I am not a monster," Snape muttered as he turned his attention back to his food.

Hermione had never thought he was. Evil yes, but not a monster.

"Yet you hold me here and force me to bear your child." Hermione wasn't sure what made her say it; perhaps grief had made her bold.

Snape's reaction was immediate and violent. He shoved away from the table and jumped to his feet, his chair screeching loudly against the floor. His hands hit the table with a resounding slap as he leaned forward, towering over her.

"Make no mistake, Miss Granger – I do not hold you here, the Ministry does! And I haven't forced you to do anything! I saved your life! I've done everything in my power to make your time here bearable, including enduring the presence of Lucius' infernal house-elf! You have no idea the lengths to which I have gone to ensure your safety. And yet you begrudge me the one thing that I have requested of you, the thing to which you agreed – a child."

Snape's hand snaked out and snatched the framed photograph out of Hermione's fingers. She tried to grab it, but he held it in front of her, just out of reach.

"Look at it! Look at it!" he yelled.

Through her tears, Hermione looked at the picture of the laughing, bouncing baby.

"Please don't," she begged, afraid that he would take it from her, or worse – destroy it.

"Look at her and answer me one thing – what did Oliver Crispus ever do for you?" he screamed.

Hermione lunged for the photograph, and this time Snape released it into her hands. She didn't wait for him to dismiss her – she ran blindly through the house until she reached her bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her. She flung herself on the bed and gave in to her urge to weep.

She wasn't sure for how long she cried; Fritzlee appeared shortly after sundown, carrying a tray of sandwiches and tea that Hermione never touched. Snape never called her to the reading-room for lessons, and the next morning when Hermione awoke, she still wore the same robes.