Chapter 3

Two hours later, Snape gave up even the pretense of doing paperwork, pushing a second-year Hufflepuff's essay away from him with a snarl and nearly knocking over his mug of tea. He simply could not concentrate under these circumstances. His anger at the girl for invading his private sanctuary would have been enough all on its own, but he was more than a little worried about what Voldemort's Death Eaters might have been poking around at in his offices. He'd checked his private storeroom thrice and found nothing obviously amiss. He'd done magic-revealing spells meant to show any listening devices that had been left in his quarters. Nothing. There was no evidence left behind, and nothing for him to do except wait.

He leaned back in his chair, studying the girl. This was a rare opportunity; she was usually surrounded by her puling, incompetent friends, or bent over a book or cauldron. It was always surprising to see his students grow and change from babyish first-years into fully-grown adults by the end of their time at Hogwarts, but he felt that this case was more surprising than most. Granger had lost most of her puppy fat and become almost... willowy, he decided, was the appropriate word. And, he noticed, she had filled out in the right places for a woman. His eyes traveled over the curve of her hips and her small, firm breasts. When had she grown into that body? No wonder Weasley was constantly drooling over her.

At this, he stopped abruptly. You're leering at a student, Severus. And then, Yes, and what's she going to do to stop me?

He permitted himself a small smile. It amused him to think of humiliating her in this small way. She'd never know, of course. She no doubt assumed that the Great Git was ticking through exam papers. Perhaps working on some potion. Certainly not letting his eyes explore every inch of her body.

Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her. And it's not as though he actually wanted her. He was merely indulging himself for a moment in a brief and meaningless humiliation.

Her fingers twitched. Snape checked the time. In the hours since Dumbledore and McGonagall had left, she had not moved a single muscle. But there was no mistaking it; her hand had twitched... and now the other one. A moan escaped her lips. The curse was definitely wearing off. He observed with interest as her limbs began to tremble, only slightly at first but then intensifying into what looked like a convulsion. She sank to her knees and sucked in a great, shuddering breath like a drowning woman coming up for air.

"I couldn't breathe," she gasped. "The spell was like someone was sitting on my chest. And every time anyone used magic on me, it got tighter."

Snape lifted an eyebrow. Was that one of the known effects of the Silencio curse? He made a mental note to check into it later.

But enough of that. They had work to do.

Snape rose from behind his desk, his hooked nose and black robes giving him the impression of a bird of prey. "Miss Granger," he said with no trace of emotion in his voice, "pull yourself together. I believe you have some answers for me."

Her breathing had returned almost to normal, but she was still on her knees, staring down at the floor.

"I... I don't know, sir."

Is she blushing? He ground his teeth together and took a deep breath. Control, Severus.

"Miss Granger. There have clearly been Death Eaters in my quarters, and one or more of them has just as clearly cursed you. I want to know the following things, in the following order: what you were doing here, what you saw or heard, and who cursed you. And I want to know now."

She got to her feet slowly, having difficulty making her limbs work after having been frozen for so long. He was within arm's reach and could have helped her. Instead he merely folded his arms and leaned back against his desk, watching her struggle. He waved a hand at the high-backed wooden chair opposite the desk, and Hermione sank into it heavily.

"I'm sorry, sir."

For fuck's sake. Bloody Gryffindors. Through clenched teeth, nearly snarling, he said, "Miss Granger. Don't be sorry, just tell me what the fuck happened in here."

She blanched; what little color was left in her face paled even further. Her eyes darted from side to side. She would not look at him.

"I can't, sir," she said. If he hadn't been looking at her, he wouldn't have recognized it as her voice; it was timid and trembling. Nothing like the know-it-all brashness he was accustomed to. He was seized with the impulse to grab her and shake the information out of her. Who--or what--in the hell could possibly have done this to her?

In a deceptively soft voice, he asked her, "What, exactly, do you mean by that, Granger? You can't, or you won't?"

Hermione folded her hands carefully in her lap, still looking anywhere but into his face. Instead she stared at a spot on the wall somewhere beyond him and said, in a careful, controlled voice, "Professor Snape, believe me, I want to tell you. But I can't. Can't you just..." She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

"Rip it out of your mind?" he finished for her. "No. I tried that once, and I have no interest in trying again. I've seen more than my fill of your petty little problems with Ronald bloody Weasley and whether or not you'd like him to snog you." On cruel impulse, he added, "It seems rather not, if you want my opinion."

Her head snapped upward. Ah, that had got a reaction. She met his eyes now, her own filled with outrage. "Professor Snape, you had no right to--"

He cut her off. "No right? You stupid little chit, for all I know there are Death Eaters advancing on the castle as we speak. I have every right to look into your mind, and if I thought it would help, I'd do so right now. And do you know what you could do to stop me?" he added, eyes glittering. "Nothing."

Hermione broke eye contact again, her cheeks flushed. He waited for the inevitable retort from her, but none came. What has her this cowed? His curiosity was a living thing, twisting and writhing inside him.

"Can't tell me. A tongue-tying curse of some sort, then."

Hermione opened her mouth as though to say something, winced sharply, and then closed her mouth again.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He crossed his arms over his chest. The girl was uncharacteristically quiet and pale. She should be nattering on at a mile a minute. She should have endless theories and ideas about how to break the curse. Stupid theories, no doubt, but that had never stopped her before.

She still wouldn't meet his gaze. That was typical behavior from most of his students, but not from brave little Gryffindor Granger. She seemed to make it a point of pride that she wasn't intimidated by her Potions professor. So why wouldn't she look at him?

She knows, he realized. She knows exactly damned well how to break the curse.

"Granger," he said, quietly. She flinched, but refused to look up.

"Look at me."

With obvious difficulty she lifted her gaze toward him and looked into his eyes, but this lasted only a moment before she looked away again, over his shoulder.

"Granger, there is often a key to breaking a tongue-tie curse. Some action that the recipient must perform in order to break the curse."

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

Oh, yes. That's it. He felt a flush of satisfaction at having solved at least one part of this mystery.

"Tell me the key, Miss Granger."

She shook her head. "I can't, Professor."

"Can't or won't?"

She said nothing for so long that he thought he was going to have to command her to speak. But then, nearly inaudible, she said, "Won't." She was grasping one hand in the other, twisting them together in her lap.

It will be some humiliation, then. I would wager any amount of Galleons that that bitch Lestrange is behind this.

"Perhaps it would be easier for you to tell someone else. Shall I summon Professor McGonagall?"

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped, "No! Gods, no! No, it has to be--Professor Snape, I'm sorry, it's... it's..." She shook her head mutely.

"It has to do with me specifically then, is that it?"

Hermione nodded quickly, her face twisted in shame. Snape's stomach did a cold, lazy turn. This was almost certainly Bellatrix's handiwork. He began to understand the girl's horror.

"Professor Snape," she burst, "there has to be some way to break it or let you Legilimens me or... something! Please, there must be some way to break a tongue-tie without the key. There must." Her voice had taken on a note of hysteria, Snape noted with disquiet.

"Miss Granger, I wish that there were." He spoke without his usual sarcasm. "There are methods, but they all require the one thing we do not have: time. We must break the curse now, and that means you have very little choice."

She swallowed hard, and nodded. Her skin was pale white with high spots of color in her cheeks. Just as though she'd been slapped, Snape thought.

"Let me ask you this, Miss Granger. I already have a very good idea who at least one of the culprits was. If that is all you have to tell me, then we need progress no further. But if there is more--if there is information that I need to know, that the Order needs to know--then it is your duty and responsibility to pass that information along to us." He fixed her with an intent stare. "No matter what the cost to you personally."

Her whole body was trembling now, like a bell that had just been struck. He had a sudden urge to reach out and put his hands on either side of her to dampen the vibrations.

He said quietly, "I believe you know that I know something about duty, Miss Granger."

Let it not be said that a Slytherin knows nothing about manipulation, he thought. Her Gryffindor sense of honor would force her to reveal the information he sought. He could see her struggling with herself, making the decision. If she wanted to, she could claim that the identity of the Death Eater was all she had to tell. She could escape her fate, just that easily. But she wouldn't. He knew she wouldn't. He'd made sure of it. All he had to do was wait for her to decide... as though it were ever her decision to begin with. He reached for his cup of tea while he waited.

Granger's eyes widened in horror. She shrieked, "No!" and then clutched her midsection as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Snape gave the tea an appraising look and then put it down, untouched.

"Something about the tea, then," he said.

She neither confirmed nor denied, only looking at him helplessly, but still, he thought it best to leave the tea for now. He arched an eyebrow at her, waiting for an explanation.

Hermione, looking at her hands, said, "All right, yes. There is... more. More I need to tell you. You were right. So I have to... have to do this."

"Tell me, Miss Granger."

She raised her head to look at him. "Professor, please, are you absolutely sure you can't just pull it from my mind? Not even just this part?"

He sighed. "I assure you that on my previous attempt I did everything within my power to find out any piece of information about your capture. I admit that having a student beg me to perform Legilimency on her is certainly quite a novelty, but I feel compelled to point out that you are wasting time, Miss Granger, and frankly you are trying my patience. Now tell me the key."

He could read the panic on her face, clear as text on a scroll. Normally she would have bristled at his tone, but now she simply looked frightened. He waited, unblinking. She had no choice. He would give her no choice.

The silence stretched between them, thick and tangible.

She swallowed, and then her face hardened; she'd clearly come to some decision. She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said, "There are two parts."

He cocked an eyebrow and waited.

"First, I have... I... I h-have..." She was faltering.

There was a sick, heavy feeling in his gut. "Spit it out, Granger," he told her.

"Fine! I... I have to kiss you!" she said then, almost angrily. She looked directly at him. "I have to kiss you, that is the first thing, and it has to be a... a..."

"For fuck's sake, Granger."

"... a real kiss," she finished, "they told me it has to be a real kiss, a... a good kiss." She still sounded angry, but there were tears sliding down her cheeks now.

Goddamn you to hell, Bellatrix.

"And the second part?" he asked. He was rigid and still, betraying no emotion.

"Professor, I really don't think I can do this." She wiped her sleeve across her face to clear it of tears.

"You can and you will, Miss Granger. I assure you that whatever it is, I have done far worse in the service of the Dark Lord."

This reminder seemed to stiffen her spine somewhat. She wiped the last of her tears and looked up at her Potions professor with a resolute expression on her face. An easy mark, he thought. So simple to manipulate. But the pleasure he would normally have felt in such an exercise was hollow and cold. Whatever Bellatrix had planned for him--for them--would undoubtedly be extraordinarily unpleasant.

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it again. He could see her jaw trembling.

There was a beat of silence, then another, and finally Snape said, "There are ways of forcing you to tell me, and ways of forcing you to do it. Those methods would be unpleasant for me and even more so for you. Do not make me resort to this."

"No, I mean..." she faltered again, and then went on, "I mean, I don't think I... It's... they want me to... I mean, they told me to..."

Snape stopped her. "First, Miss Granger, know that at the first reasonable opportunity, I shall find Bellatrix Lestrange and choke the life from her, preferably with my bare hands."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, but her professor smoothly continued, "Second, I would like you to simply repeat the words that they spoke to you, verbatim, to me."

She nodded. "Yes. I can... I can do that." She took a deep breath, and then, staring at an unfocused point on the wall behind him, she said, "They said they wanted to humil..." and then suddenly broke off in a moan of agony, her face contorted in pain. She clenched her teeth together and stifled a scream; whether of frustration or pain, he could not quite tell.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I guess I can't tell you the... the thing I was about to tell you. I hate this!" she cried out suddenly.

"Granger, we have no time for histrionics. Tell me exactly what they told you about the key, and only the key, leaving out extraneous details, if you please."

Her gaze met his for the barest fraction of a second, and in that moment he saw raw, brimming anger in her eyes. For him or for the Death Eaters who had cursed her, he couldn't be sure. Likely both, he thought.

"Yes, Professor. They told me... what I told you before, that I had to k-kiss you."

He gave her a short, sharp nod. "Go on."

"And then they said... they said, that wouldn't be enough. They said I would have to... to..."

No, he thought. No. Please, no.

She closed her eyes. She was rigid, and her entire body was trembling. "To suck y-your cock, sir. And s-s-swallow the come. And then they laughed."

Snape felt light-headed, as if all of the air had just been swept from the room.

He stared at the girl, who was clearly keeping control of herself by only the thinnest of threads. She wasn't crying, or begging, or trying to bargain or reason her way out of it. She was simply holding herself tightly, waiting for him to respond.

No. Not with a student. Not because Bellatrix fucking Lestrange told her to. I don't want her.

And then, just for a moment, gone from his mind nearly before he could even process it, he thought, Not like this.

She interrupted his thoughts with a stammered, "But sir... I... I don't think... we can't..."

He lifted an eyebrow and looked at her with a sudden surge of irritation. He would not make this easy for her. There was nothing easy about this, and it was her own fault they were both involved in it.

"Professor, we can't, because... because..." The next words tumbled out together in a rush, "Well, for one thing, you won't want to."

He wondered what it had taken for her to say that to him. And then, on the heels of that thought, he wondered just exactly what Bellatrix had told her.

"They told you that, did they?" he said to the girl.

She nodded wordlessly. Her eyes were bright and clear, unclouded by tears.

He laughed, cold and humorless. "Yes, I'm sure that Bellatrix thought she was being very clever."

Hermione said, "I'm... not sure I understand, Professor." Her cheeks flamed bright red.

He regarded her somewhat less disdainfully than usual and said, "No. You wouldn't."

His thoughts turned inward as he decided how much to tell her. She held herself perfectly still while she waited for him to speak, as though she thought that as long as she didn't move, she'd be safe.

At last he said, "I am going to tell you something in confidence, Miss Granger. I shall trust you not to reveal it to anyone, including your... friends." He made friends sound unclean. "The dissemination of this information would have consequences for me that would be severe. Quite severe. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"Good." She flinched from his gaze. She feels vulnerable, he thought. As well she might.

"Miss Granger," he went on, "the reason that Bellatrix Lestrange was so certain that her instructions to you would prove unfruitful is that she is laboring under the misapprehension that I am... unable to perform."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted in shock, but she said nothing. He saw with some satisfaction that her blush had deepened.

"I have, in fact, worked quite diligently at making sure that she, and others, maintain this misapprehension. Do you follow my meaning, Miss Granger?" He hoped she would be able to restrain herself from the inevitable prying questions, as he had no desire to explain a Dark Revel. He closed his eyes for a moment and saw Muggle women being raped and tortured by gleeful Death Eaters, and heard the mocking voices: Too bad you can't play too, Sev! Give me a hand holding this one down, though, yeah?

He opened his eyes again; Granger said, "Yes, sir," but nothing more. He exhaled a private sigh of relief.

"Bellatrix undoubtedly thought that it would be quite impossible for you to satisfy the conditions of the curse, thus leaving you tormented with knowledge you were unable to relay. I am sure she found this quite amusing. But I can assure you it is not impossible." He fixed her with a cold stare.

Hermione tried one last time, "Professor, please, there must be some other way..."

He said simply, "There is not." If she had cried, or begged, or called him names, he might have been able to hate her, and he wanted to; he wanted to be able to hate her for this. But she wasn't begging or crying. She was sitting in his chair, still and motionless, rigid and controlled. Whatever her private thoughts and feelings, she was prepared to go through with it. For the sake of her precious Order, he thought, as scenes from some of the things he'd done for that same Order flashed before his eyes.

Enough self-indulgence, Severus. Get it over with.

"Come here, Miss Granger."