Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Melisse.

Hermione had never felt the sort of blind fear she did at this moment. It was as if the floodgates had opened on cue and her veins were filled with ice water. When she heard Malfoy say the words, "Grab her," she saw everything snap into the crisp, clear focus of reality. This was really happening to her! The fog was gone. She backed away from Malfoy, but his two goons were behind her, which was worse. The panic she was feeling threatened to rise up and choke her. She reached into her sleeve for her wand, but Crabbe was already there, too fast, and Goyle had her other arm. No matter how hard she fought, their meaty hands were vice-like on her, and she wasn't going anywhere.

"Malfoy, listen," she begged, hating the sound of her pathetic voice, but he aimed his wand at her.

"Silencio! I've been wanting to do that for a long time, Granger." Draco looked at her. "Put her on the bed. I could use a spell to body-bind, but where's the sport in that? Afterwards you'd just feel vindicated."

Hermione put as much venom as she could muster into the look she gave him. Crabbe and Goyle wrenched her arms around and threw her on one of the beds. She yelped with the excessive force, but of course no sound came out. She continued to struggle, but to no avail. Crabbe and Goyle may have been stupid, but what they lacked in brains, they made up for in muscle, and she wasn't moving an inch. In the meantime, Draco divested himself of his robe, and as he removed his belt, he cracked it, just for her benefit. He leaned over her. "Oh, and Granger, when I said I was going to break you? I didn't just mean that I was going to fuck you. Although that will be part of it." He gestured to Crabbe. "Get her clothes off, will you? Do I have to tell you to do everything?"

Hermione started to buck in earnest when she heard that. This was the most nightmarish thing that had ever happened to her, and they wouldn't be getting an article of clothing off her without a fight! If this had to happen, it was going to be after she had exhausted every ounce of energy she possessed fighting it. She would rather die than let Draco Malfoy be the one to steal her virtue.

Draco whistled. "If I had known you would have that much passion, I would have gotten you in the sack a long time ago, Granger. Save some for me. And Crabbe and Goyle, of course."

Just when Hermione thought she couldn't be more horrified, that stupid twat opened his mouth! Crabbe reached for her shirt, and Hermione twisted and turned so viciously that there was a real scuffle on the bed. As this was happening, there was a knock on the door to the boys' room.

"Sh!" Draco warned his cohorts. Hermione of course, could say nothing. He dispersed the muffling and locking charms and cracked the door. "Yes?"

"Draco!" It was Pansy Parkinson. "You'd better come down."

Draco smoothed his blond hair back in a show of nonchalance. "Actually, Pans, I'm busy. I can accommodate you later, okay?"

"No, Draco, I saw who you have with you!" hissed Pansy venomously. "And I am telling you that Professor Snape is asking for you. Downstairs! Now! If you get caught with her ... just go. I'll cover for you."

From her vantage point on the bed, Hermione could see the rage overtake Draco's features before he dropped a mask over them. He almost looked like his father for a minute, but he couldn't quite keep the fury out of his eyes at being thwarted. He grabbed his robe from where he had dropped it, and as he dressed, he leaned over her, and for her ears only, whispered as if to a lover, "If you tell a soul about this, I will make good on what didn't happen here today, Mudblood. You will regret it, I promise you that," and he kissed her mouth very gently, only at the end turning it to a bite. She felt a drop of blood on the inside of her lip, where no one could see. Malfoy looked deep into her eyes to make sure she understood the message, then turned away. "Let's go, Goyle, Crabbe." They released her.

She sat a minute, shaking. Pansy came into the room and eyed her with distaste. "Probably a silencing charm, too, huh?"

Hermione nodded, and Pansy dispelled it.

"Thank you," Hermione gasped.

"Listen," Pansy sauntered around the bed. "I'm not doing this for you. Draco is mine. So get out and keep quiet, or you'll be sorry. I saw him bring you up here. If you want to return the favor, just shut up and leave him to me!"

Hermione was incredulous. "That's fine by me; you can keep him. I don't want any part of him!" Hermione jumped off the bed and tried to run out the door.

Pansy grabbed her arm. "Hold on there! You can't just run out of here. At this time of day everyone will see you. You and I will go together and pretend to be friends."

Hermione was appalled. "Why would I do that?"

Pansy's eyes glittered dangerously. "We both have something to protect. I'm protecting Draco, and you're protecting yourself. Let's go! Snape's looking for you, too, for some reason."

So Hermione and Pansy descended into the Slytherin common room together, and while Hermione couldn't exactly paste a smile on, she was glad to be in the company of someone, anyone, other than Draco Malfoy. And when she spotted his blond head in sharp relief against a dark one in the middle of the common room, she had never in her whole life felt such happiness flood her as she did right then to see none other than Professor Snape. She fairly skipped up to him right there, and did her best to ignore Malfoy.

"Miss Granger!" Snape seemed startled to see her in this unlikely setting. "I ... didn't expect to find you here amongst my Slytherins. Are you here courtesy of Miss Parkinson?" For Pansy had drifted away, released from her obligation.

"Yes, and Draco here," Hermione caught his eye; he gave her as much of a menacing glare as he could with Snape standing by, "was kind enough to show me how things are done here in Slytherin."

"Hm," Snape looked at him, and Draco just smiled beatifically. "Well, it is ... serendipitous that I encountered you here, Miss Granger, as I have need of you in my rooms. Please accompany me." With no further explanation, he turned and walked down the corridor that led to his rooms.

Draco smirked at her. "Don't act all innocent with me, Granger. Now I know what you were running so fast for in the hallway! If I knew you were that desperate to get some I wouldn't have held you down!"

"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?" Snape turned around in a whirl of black robes as if he had just remembered something. "I volunteered you, along with Messrs. Crabbe and Goyle, to help restore the Potions storeroom. You will go there now. It may take several weeks to set it to rights again, even with such ... diligent workers as yourselves. Miss Granger?"

Hermione got the slightest stab of satisfaction at seeing Draco's mouth fall open like a gutted fish as she rushed after Snape.

They didn't speak at all until they reached the sanctuary of his rooms, and indeed, she was beginning to think of them as a sanctuary. They had come in through the Slytherin common room door this time, so Hermione got to see the whole suite of rooms that constituted his living quarters. Teachers did not make much to live on, but as Head of Slytherin, Snape had been gifted with ample space to call his own, and had furnished it tastefully throughout the years so that the place really looked like a warm, inviting home. Hermione's eyes skipped past the room she knew to be the bedroom, her cheeks heating, and they went to their now customary places in what she thought of as the living room. When they were settled, Snape cleared his throat.

"Miss Granger, thanks to your efficacy in the objective I set for you, things are going exactly as they should...that is to say, according to my plan. Now, I have brewed the potion to specification...which was no small feat, I might add...and it is complete. All that remains is to deliver it to its final destination. At this juncture, I find I also require certain ... skills ... that you alone seem to possess. You are a very talented witch, Miss Granger."

Hermione may have been lulled by his honeyed tones, but at this her eyes traveled of their own accord to his and were held as if by magic. She could easily see why Severus Snape belonged to the House of Slytherin, as his gaze was as hypnotic as any serpent's, and she felt enthralled and completely enraptured. Had he intended the double meaning of his words? Surely not; it was just the matter with Draco that was bringing such thoughts into her head. Why was it that such an act that appeared abhorrent a few short minutes ago now didn't seem so repellent at all? Hermione gazed into the very depths of Snape's dark eyes and couldn't discern what she saw there. She licked her lips.

"Uh, what?"

Snape blinked, unused to her indelicacy. If he was taken aback by her apparent lack of graciousness in accepting a compliment, he tried not to show it, and he smoothly continued. "Thank you for retrieving the thestral heart so quickly."

Hermione drew a ragged breath. It was hot in here, she was sure of it. "You're very welcome, sir. How else can I help? You said something about house-elves? And Azkaban? I'm not sure I follow."

Snape gave a half-smile. "I would not expect you to. I might remind you that your previous vow holds in this matter, as well. Have you felt its confines yet?" Seeing her nod, he continued. "Then you are aware of its power. I shall explain the second part of the plan to you now."

"Please," Hermione nodded for him to continue, as she was anxious to hear what was expected of her, what with all of her, uh, talents. Whatever he supposed them to be. Studying hard, maybe?

"Well," Snape sounded uncharacteristically uncertain. "I confess myself to be at a loss. I am not sure where to begin. It is a complicated tale, and not all of it bears repeating. Let me just say this. I have created a potion, as you have been made aware, and it needs to be delivered into the very heart of Azkaban to achieve its full potential. I have, in the course of my own investigations in this matter, discovered that the only creatures equipped to carry out such a task are house-elves. It seems unlikely, but I can assure you, it remains true. Through all of their long years in service to wizards and witches, particularly those of the Dark persuasion, it seems that they have built up quite a tolerance for the ... grimness that exudes from Azkaban. They are singularly prepared to be steeped in the atmosphere without being poisoned by it."

Hermione's eyes were getting rounder by the minute. "You propose to sneak into Azkaban with a potion?" Her voice was a squeak.

Snape waved a hand impatiently. "You have not been attending me, Miss Granger. A house-elf is going to accomplish this feat of derring-do. And here is where your part comes in. I was made aware that you formed a union for the creatures a few years back? As representative for them, you are now in a favorable position to select the appropriate one, train it in stealth tactics and wayfinding, and generally ensure that it is able to perform its part satisfactorily. It seems like ... providence ... that you already have a link to the house-elf community."

Hermione was so distressed that she nearly jumped to her feet. "I can do no such thing, Professor! S.P.E.W., while an extremely good cause and still worthwhile venture, was not supported by anyone outside of the house-elf world, and they were not able to speak up for themselves to break the chains of slave labor that still bind them!" Snape looked a little bored by her proselytizing. "I believe that because of this injustice still poisoning their minds, as well as their bodies..."

"The point, Miss Granger," Snape ground out warningly. "If there is one, get to it."

She looked down, deflated. "I may have made some enemies of the house-elves. I certainly have no friends there."

"Then this will be a challenge for you," Snape said in droll tones, "but necessary all the same. You have your task before you."

"But I don't know anything about stealth tactics, or ... wayfinding technologies! How can I teach a simple elf?" Hermione was distressed to hear a wail beginning in her voice.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement. "Simple elf, Miss Granger? And just a moment ago fighting for their equality, hm? A lesser man might make note of the hypocrisy."

Hermione scowled at him, her earlier attraction erased in her rising ire. "You know what I meant! They are not fit for that sort of thing. Come to think of it, neither am I!"

Now it was Snape's turn to scowl, and it was in earnest. "What exactly do you deem them fit for, if not for this? They are not suited to the task of serving their country, but they are fit to stay safely in the kitchens so that you may wave a banner and sign some names to a petition in their stead? Choose your next words with care, Miss Granger, that you may look your Gryffindor pride in the mirror next morn!"

Hermione was uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, having the distinct impression that she was being outwitted, and not liking it one bit. She also thought that perhaps the topic had turned from the original theme, and she struggled to swim to shallower water. "If I can recruit one, I myself still am not knowledgeable in the areas you need me to be. I could never learn in time, certainly not enough to teach someone else. And anyway, you never said what the potion is for. What is it? How could it possibly have anything to do with serving the country?"

Snape skewered her with an unwavering look. "All in good time, Miss Granger. I cannot at this time tell you what the potion does, only that it has the most vital importance. It must be delivered to Azkaban, even if the odds of accomplishing it are not in our favor, and it appears to be a lost cause. We have to try. It may well be impossible, but we will do it...together, if need be. It is the only chance we have, the only choice we have. I will teach you, you will teach the elf. It is the only way."

Hermione assessed Snape. He didn't trust her, not enough to tell her what the potion was for. Maybe she could find out on her own. "How much time do we have?"

Snape relaxed into his chair with her apparent acquiescence. "The potion was the first biggest hurdle. It was on a strict..." Something about the way he clipped that word made her shiver delightfully "...timetable. Now we have until the first full moon of the vernal equinox."

"April ninth," Hermione breathed, beating Snape to the calculation. "That gives us nearly three weeks' time."

"Yes." Snape's eyes gleamed appreciatively at Hermione's quick thinking. "You will need to spend all your time with me, preparing." It didn't sound like so much of a command this time, but more like a comment that might be met with criticism.

"I'll need every minute," Hermione said, not daring to look back. Her eyes were sure to give her away.

"I daresay we both will," Snape said drily.

Hermione was not heartened by the fact that his thoughts seemed to be running in a more appropriate direction than hers. It might be a long three weeks, after all.