Chapter 6

Author's Note: This story continues to be dark, and this chapter and the next include scenes of torture; be warned.

...~...~...

Hermione's face had gone completely white.

Snape said, "You are familiar, I believe, with the work I do for the Order?" He sounded no different, no less calm and composed, than if he were asking her the ingredients of some potion in his classroom.

She hesitated, on uncertain ground. "Professor... I, uh, think the term is 'double agent'."

He inclined his head toward her and said, "That is an accurate assessment. I won't bore you with the details of intrigue in the Dark Lord's immediate circle; suffice it to say that our mutual acquaintance, Ms. Lestrange, suspects that I am not being entirely... honest with the Dark Lord."

Hermione knit her eyebrows together. He easily anticipated the inevitable follow-up question: "Professor Snape, why are you telling me this?"

He pushed back the arm of his robe and rolled back his shirtsleeve, displaying the Dark Mark, currently pale and quiescent. He was grimly satisfied to see the girl recoil.

"This is why. At any moment, this Mark may turn black, and at that time I must appear instantly before the Dark Lord. If that happens before I am... adequately prepared, then my life will be forfeit. And so," he said with a dark glance at her, "will yours."

He could read the confusion in her face, a thousand questions bubbling their way to the surface. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed. "I have neither the time nor the patience for an interrogation, Miss Granger. I realize that it is not in your nature to simply stay quiet and pay attention, but right now that is exactly what I need you to do. Do you understand?"

She returned his gaze, cocking an eyebrow. That's my trick, he thought. Impudent.

"I understand," she said.

"Good. Now. Are you familiar with Lumia potion?"

She frowned. Her eyes glazed over as she attempted to recall the properties of one of the more obscure and rare potions; he'd certainly never discussed it in class.

"It... it alters brain chemistry, Professor," she said. "It prevents the taker from..." She stopped, going pale and bringing her hand to her mouth. "From being able to successfully use Occlumency."

Five points for Gryffindor.

"Indeed. Miss Granger, your memory is accurate as usual. I am sure you can see the difficulty this presents me."

"But sir, you didn't take the..." She broke off, seeing his glare and remembering her promise not to ask questions.

"Indeed I did not; nor will I. But Lestrange will expect that I have, and therefore so shall the Dark Lord. He will expect to find my mind completely defenseless and free of any obstruction...the mind of someone with no Occlumens ability whatsoever."

He fixed her with his gaze again. "Much like yours, Miss Granger."

Hermione flushed, remembering his invasion of her mind and what he'd seen there.

Snape appeared to take no notice. He continued, "Once the Dark Lord realizes that I have not taken the potion, his next question will be to ask why. Clearly I must have found out about the tampering; the only reasonable way for me to have done so would be to..." He paused, his eyes shifting away from her. Hermione blinked; she could not recall ever before seeing him appear unsure.

"...To break the curse," he finally said. "Something that I have given him cause to believe would be physically impossible for me.

"I believe the most likely outcome will be my death. Immediately followed by your capture, certainly your torture and interrogation, and likely your death as well. I am afraid that Bellatrix has planned this perfectly."

He cleared his throat, and then, focused somewhere behind her, he said, "I regret that you have become involved in this, Miss Granger."

Could that have been an apology? On a day filled with impossibilities, this seemed the biggest one yet.

"It's my own fault, Professor," she said. "I shouldn't have been in your office without permission." His expression didn't change, and she hurriedly continued, "But sir, surely Vol...You-Know-Who wouldn't go that far, would he? I mean, killing a Hogwarts teacher and student..."

Snape interrupted her. "He would. And he will." His face was expressionless, and his eyes never left her face.

The surreality of the situation caught up with her in that moment and she thought wildly, Fifteen minutes ago my mouth was on him. She shook her head a little to clear it.

"Professor," she said, "is there really no other way you could have got the information? I mean, couldn't you have... tortured me for it? You're a master Occlumens. Surely you could make him see that image in your mind."

She thought that perhaps she'd overstepped her bounds. He regarded her in silence for a long moment; she could not tell whether he was angry at the suggestion or simply considering his response.

"Yes," he said at last. "That would be a possibility. But in order to convince the Dark Lord that I had tortured you, I would need to construct a highly detailed image with strong emotional resonance. Unfortunately, the..." He stopped abruptly. Hermione was on the verge of asking what was wrong when he continued, "The most recent image I have of you in my mind with strong emotional resonance... would not be helpful. In this situation."

The blush Hermione had been trying to hold back suddenly erupted in full bloom.

"Oh," was all she could manage. Snape was rigid, staring into unfocused space.

And then tentatively she said, "Professor, can we... construct a new image?"

His gaze snapped back to her face.

"Explain."

"Well, sir... if you actually tortured me, you'd be able to use that instead, right?"

He looked at her in flat disbelief.

"Miss Granger. The only way to break a tongue-tie curse of that complexity without satisfying its requirements would be to inflict severe and extreme torture on the victim."

"Cruciatus," she said. I will not panic. I can do this.

He gave a sharp nod. "Yes. I have withstood its effects. You are younger than I, and far less experienced at defending against the Dark Arts. Setting aside the fact that it is an Unforgivable and not something I am inclined to cast lightly, if at all, I believe it would... be impossible for you to withstand."

"You think it would break me," she said.

"Yes." He winced immediately after saying it.

She thrust her chin forward. "You won't break me. Cast it," she said.

"Miss Granger, this is not necessary. Given time to prepare, I can successfully Occlu..."

She interrupted him: "You said there might not be any time. You need an image of me being tortured. I'm here. So do it."

Snape's breathing came short and shallow. The girl was right. This was the best opportunity they had. He could use the real and vivid images of her torture and construct a realistic... a believable structure around them. But Cruciatus on a student... (Especially on this student, his traitorous mind whispered.)

He looked down to find that his wand was in his hand. Hermione stared at him with dark brown eyes, unflinching.

I have badly underestimated this girl, he thought.

"Forgive me," he breathed. And then, before he lost his nerve:

"Crucio."

...~...~...

Voldemort's throne in the lower levels of Malfoy Manor was large and elaborate, elevated above the rest of the cavernous dungeon room by magic, a show of braggadocio meant to keep his followers in their rightful place. Snape knelt before it on one knee, head bowed.

It was difficult not to contrast this with Dumbledore's tower office, all books and simple flagstones. Nothing ornate there. Nothing ostentatious. Barely recognizable as a Headmaster's office at all.

Snape thought of the meeting he'd had there the day before, after he had... finished with Granger. He'd given Dumbledore and McGonagall a bare-bones account: the names of the Death Eaters who had broken into his quarters and the information that nothing had been stolen. They had inquired as to Miss Granger's condition, and he'd told them she was unharmed. Except that she was forced to suck my cock and then I cast Cruciatus on her, he thought. No harm done to your prize pet Gryffindor, I'm sure. He was convinced that Dumbledore knew he was holding something back, but the old wizard knew better than to try to force information out of his Potions instructor. They'd have to cast Cruciatus on him themselves before he told them what he'd done to the girl that day.

And their time would be far better spent figuring out exactly how Death Eaters had got into Hogwarts.

All of these thoughts passed through his mind in the space of no more than a few seconds, and then he shut them away behind the featureless wall of Occlumency. It was an familiar and comfortable process to him after so many years, as easy as closing a well-oiled drawer. He felt Voldemort's icy tendrils probing at his mind already; this too was a familiar sensation and meant that Voldemort had now discovered Snape's failure to consume the Lumia potion. It was no matter, though. Snape had had a full day before the Mark on his arm glowed with dark life, calling him here. A full day to build a believable structure for Voldemort's examination. It was perfect.

The Dark Lord would find nothing amiss.

Snape heard a mad, high-pitched giggle and knew it was Bellatrix Lestrange. With his head bowed, he could not see her, but he knew she would be sitting in her usual place, on an ornately decorated couch next to the elevated throne. And she would be staring in adoration at the snake-like creature perched on that throne...staring with adoration and lust. Behind the wall he had constructed in his mind, he felt the powerful mad urge to seize her and choke the life out of her. It subsided; he was master of this emotion as of all others. There would be time enough for that later.

If I survive this.

Snape wondered where Voldemort's snake, Nagini, was. He thought he'd heard a dry slithering as he entered, but there was no trace of her now. Snape found this unsettling; he preferred to keep tabs on the snake's location at all times.

"Severus!" Bellatrix cooed. "What a lovely surprise!"

"Bellatrix," he murmured, inclining his head slightly while keeping his head bowed in deference.

"We have been... so looking forward to your latest report!" She burst into a fresh cascade of giggling.

He heard the Dark Lord's voice now: "Rise, Severuss."

Snape rose gracefully from his kneeling posture and stood with legs slightly parted and hands clasped behind his back, waiting, as always, like a good servant. Voldemort smiled indulgently at Lestrange and reached down to stroke her hair. She shuddered and moved her head towards him in the manner of a cat being petted, her eyes rolling back slightly in her head. Snape watched impassively, a reaction borne of long practice, waiting until Voldemort's reptilian eyes shifted to where he stood.

"Sseveruss, I am prepared to hear your report."

Snape nodded. Here we go. "Yes, my Lord. There has been recent activity that I believe you will find highly interesting. But first..." He paused, hesitantly, with a note of nervousness.

"...I must ask you if I have given you cause to doubt my loyalty, my Lord."

Voldemort furrowed his brow into scaly ripples, and spoke, his speech threaded with sibilants, "Ssseverus, why do you ask me thisss?"

Snape let his gaze flicker quickly to Bellatrix, and then back to Voldemort. "I have reason to believe, my Lord, that Miss Lestrange and her cohort were in my chambers at Hogwarts, with the intent of dosing my tea with Lumia...for what purpose, my Lord, I am unsure, and thus the question I laid before you." He stepped back, bowing his head obsequiously.

It is in these moments that we define ourselves. Life or death, balanced on the fine edge of a knife.

He waited in the silence. After a long moment, unbearably long, he heard Voldemort's inhuman hiss. He dared not look at the Dark Lord's face and so could not gauge his reaction.

"Bella, my... dear," came the smooth, unctuous words, "is thiss... true?"

Snape allowed himself a glance at the Death Eater. Her face had gone a gratifying shade of white. She trembled, pointing a shaking finger at Snape. A gabble of broken, outraged syllables poured out of her, gradually forming into a teapot crescendo of screeching, culminating with, "He is a liar, a traitor! He couldn't possibly know that unless he has been LYING all this time. My Lord and Master, you know he must be LYING!" She turned to Snape, who still waited in perfect calm, and shrieked, "You couldn't know, you couldn't possibly, you... you..."

Voldemort made a subtle gesture with his hand and the sound was abruptly cut off. Bellatrix's mouth still gaped open, but no sound emerged. She looked up at the Dark Lord with large, pleading eyes, the expression on her face perfectly clear: He's lying. I've discovered him for you. Shall I not have my reward? In return Voldemort merely looked directly into her eyes and went still. After a moment, he said only, "Ah... I see."

Voldemort let his gaze rest on Snape, who had remained silent through the entire performance.

"Is thiss... true, Sseverus? Did you allow a filthy little Mudblood slut to suck your cock? After turning down so many... finer choices, over the years! I admit I am quite... sssurprised... to discover this information." He toyed with his wand, letting it lazily drift back and forth but keeping it always pointed in Snape's general direction.

"My Lord, of course not. As you know, I couldn't, even if I had wanted to."

"Then explain." Instantly, the casual playfulness was gone from Voldemort's voice, leaving only a cold threat.

"Cruciatus, my Lord."

"On a sstudent! You surprise me, Severuss."

"Yes, my Lord. It was rather easy. She offered very little resistance."

Voldemort sucked his breath in sharply. He liked this thought, just as Snape had suspected he would.

"Let me ssee," he hissed. Before Snape could respond, Voldemort plunged into his mind. He quickly found the scene: Snape dispassionately holding his wand on his student as she shrieked in agony and writhed in helpless twisting circles on the floor, until she finally gave up all the information the Logocaesura curse had protected. The Dark Lord inspected this scene with attentive care, savoring every moan, every plea, every cry. Snape had known Voldemort would enjoy watching a Mudblood student suffer, particularly one as close to Potter as this one. And so he had made it last. He had made Granger suffer. She had screamed in agony, and then pleaded for him to stop, and finally begged for death. "Kill me," she'd sobbed. "Just end it, please!"

Voldemort particularly enjoyed that bit, reviewing it over and over again and laughing, a cold and awful sound that crawled down Snape's spine. But Snape's mind was disciplined; he was prepared. He allowed himself to feel a frisson of pleasure at the Dark Lord's seeming approval, and knew that it had not gone unnoticed.

"Sseveruss, I would not have thought you had it in you."

Snape nodded in affirmation. "It was... not unenjoyable, my Lord." And in the false version he had constructed for Voldemort to examine, it had not been. He'd hidden his reluctance and the way he'd pretended the girl was Bellatrix Lestrange in order to muster up the necessary emotional state to cast the curse.

Voldemort chuckled, the menace gone from his voice; behind him, Bellatrix was screaming silently, the cords in her neck standing out, her entire face glowing red. Snape could see her lips forming the word "traitor" over and over again.

"I'll deal with my pet later. She does oversstep her bounds from time to time. I trust you did not actually consume any of the Lumia?"

"No, my Lord. That would have left me exposed and defenseless to the Order."

"Indeed. I shall sspeak to Bellatrix about thiss."

Snape observed Lestrange's hysterical reaction and memorized it mentally. He would enjoy and savor it later, in privacy.

Voldemort was still speaking, "...something you had to tell me, ssomething... highly interesting?"

Snape nodded again. "Yes, my Lord. The Order is attempting to create a potion that will provide protection against Dark Magic."

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed. "How charming. As though a potion could protect them from me!" A few Death Eaters dared a chuckle from the edges of the room. "But surely, Sseverus," he said, "this is not what you found... interesting."

"No, my Lord. I have led them to believe that firedrake scales are a key component of this potion. They are expending great effort in the pursuit of this ingredient."

Voldemort's eyes dilated perceptibly. Yes, he'd taken the bait. "And are firedrake scales indeed a key component?"

Snape smiled slightly. "Of course not, my Lord. But when they obtain them for this potion, I should have no difficulty in procuring a few for my own purposes."

"Excellent work, Sseverus. The sooner you can finish my restoration potion, the better."

Snape had planted that seed long ago. A few manufactured "ancient" scrolls and a careful word dropped here and there had done the trick. Voldemort believed that Snape knew how to create a potion that would restore him to full strength and power; a potion that required firedrake scales as a key ingredient. Firedrake scales were one of the rarest ingredients known, impossibly difficult to obtain. Few wizards had even seen one, much less collected a supply of them. And so Snape's story had bought the Order some much-needed time.

But time was running out; Voldemort had become impatient. Snape suspected that Bellatrix and her piggish little friend had been searching for firedrake scales in his quarters, on Voldemort's specific instructions. The Lumia potion, of course, had been her own clever little idea and was the reason she was clawing at the inside of an invisible cage right now, silenced and struggling. It didn't pay to be too clever around Lord Voldemort.

The firedrake scales were a red herring, of course. There wasn't a potion in the world incorporating them, and for good reason: the second you tried to use any sort of magic around them, they burst instantly into flames. It was one of the reasons firedrakes were such a menace in their natural environments...impossible to use spells against them without burning down half the forest. Their primary application was as use in fireworks. Voldemort, having no interest in dragons or potion lore, was unaware of this.

Still. Too clever. Too clever by half. Voldemort's mounting impatience meant that Snape had to claim that he was getting closer and closer to creating the potion. Eventually, it was inevitable that his subterfuge would be discovered, and then, well...

But enough self-pity. There'd be time for that later.

Voldemort still casually held his wand, but had lowered it at last. "Inform me at once of any developments in obtaining the scales, Sseverus. I'll expect a report in no later than two weeks' time. You've done well."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you."

As he turned to go, Voldemort said, "One last thing: the girl. Potter's Mudblood friend. Will she run and tell her Headmaster about what her nasty, awful Potions professor did?"

Snape stopped without turning around and said, "Unlikely, my Lord. I Obliviated all of it from her mind."

Voldemort laughed again...chilling, inhuman...and said, "Sseverus, I continue to underestimate you. Carry on."

He nodded. "Yes, Lord." He hurried from the chamber, feeling Voldemort's serpentine stare on his back until the doors firmly closed behind him.

Still alive. Surprising.