Information

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potterverse, it belongs to J. K. Rowling. I'm not making any money from this.

*Special thanks to Larilee, my beta, for all her help.

Chapter 3: Information

Severus Snape woke early the next day. He always woke early. Looking over, he saw that the girl was still asleep. Recovering yet, he supposed. Actually, he was impressed by her resilience. Yesterday she had regained mental coherence remarkably quickly, especially considering the number of modifications he had made to her memory. Then again, he mused, she has youth, health and native intelligence going for her, perhaps that accounts for her rapid adjustment.

He lay in bed and considered where to start. This morning he would set the ground rules for her. One of her weaknesses was her belief in justice. It led her to expect that rules were fair and that those who followed them would benefit. A typical Gryffindor failing, he scoffed inwardly. I shall be the one to benefit, in the long run. The lynchpin of his plans, however, was her true weakness: her desperate need for knowledge. It was not that he believed the quest to learn was a drawback in and of itself, but Granger was a classic overachiever, wound tight as a spring. She not only needed to know, but she felt she had to demonstrate her knowledge to win approval from others. It was her Achilles' heel, and he would use it to gain her trust.

*****

Hermione woke with aching muscles and a sense of foreboding. Looking about, she discovered she was alone. Cautious exploration revealed that the window was sealed, apparently magically warded. There were also two doors, one leading to the loo and the other to a hallway. Neither was locked. After washing up a bit, Hermione ventured into the hall and following the faint sounds below, made her way through the house and into the kitchen.

Both Snape and Pettigrew were there. Pettigrew looked up at her entrance, his small, watery eyes flicking over her body before returning to his breakfast. He did not speak. Snape, who was making toast, merely nodded to her once and continued his task. She stood uncertainly for a moment, then sat at the table and waited; she was sure that instructions would be forthcoming. Snape brought his breakfast to the table and, true to form, scowled at her.

"We're not going to serve you, girl!" he said abruptly. "Get yourself something to eat. Then we will talk." During breakfast, he informed her that attempts at escape were futile, as all the doors and windows leading outside were warded against both entry and exit. "I personally set those wards, and as you will discover, if you have not already, my wards are virtually unbreakable. Only Wormtail and I have the keywords for access. The Floo is disabled and, of course, you have your lovely bracelet to keep you in the here and now," he said with an amused twist of his lips.

The housekeeping arrangements were a bit of a surprise to Hermione. She had expected that, as a prisoner, the mundane, menial tasks like cleaning and cooking would be dumped on her. She was, after all, only a Mudblood in their eyes.

However, Snape was emphatic that they were all responsible for cleaning after themselves. "This is a Muggle house, in a Muggle neighborhood," he stated flatly. "There are no house-elves here. I also expect you to take your due turn in preparing dinner, as we will rotate this duty between the three of us." He shot a brief look in Pettigrew's direction, then addressing Hermione, continued with, "I can only hope that you're more proficient in the kitchen than Wormtail!"

Wormtail, who had remained silent to this point, stirred and murmured, "Now there's the pot calling the kettle black! Just make sure, Snape, that you never give up Potions to become a chef; not even a drunken Muggle would pay to eat what you cook."

To Hermione's amazement, Snape actually gave an amused sniff before returning to his toast. Uh oh, he must be a really bad cook if he's not bothering to argue, she thought. If they're both hopeless, I'm going to be losing weight the hard way while I'm here! Realizing how absurd that line of thought was, she nearly snorted in disgust at herself. What am I thinking? Food is the least of my worries. I had better concentrate on staying in one piece and looking for an avenue of escape.

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Breakfast at the Burrow was a great deal more solemn than usual that morning. Both Ron and Harry were downright miserable, and looked it. Besides their distress and worry about Hermione's safety, they were nearly overwhelmed with feelings of guilt. Ginny was hardly better off than the boys. Her eyes were red and swollen from prolonged crying, which threatened to resume at any moment. The entire Weasley clan, excepting Percy, had arrived the previous evening after the news of Hermione's capture was brought by Harry. Ron had been barely able to talk, so deep was his shock from the afternoon's events. Molly Weasley had raised the alarm, summoning Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, Tonks and, of course, Arthur to consult about the best course of action. Agents had been sent out to scout certain locals in Knockturn Alley and Hogsmeade for any whisper of Hermione's fate. In addition, the family homes of known Death Eaters were under close surveillance, in hopes of catching any enemy movements that could bring a lead as to Hermione's whereabouts. So far, nothing had been heard or seen that could help them.

After spending breakfast-time pushing his food around on his plate, Ron turned to Harry. "Let's go up to my room." Harry nodded. Once in Ron's bedroom, the boys sank listlessly onto the bed, seemingly at a loss for what to do with themselves. A long silence ensued. Ron suddenly burst out, "This is all my fault! I should have been able to save her. I should have blasted that scumbag as soon as he grabbed her! Bloody, effing son-of-a-bitch! Harry, what if they've killed her..." He looked to be on the verge of tears, and Harry had absolutely no idea how to console him. But he knew one thing for sure – Ron was not to blame.

"No way is this your fault, mate. We wouldn't have even been in London if I hadn't insisted on searching the house again," Harry said. "If only we had listened to Remus. If only I had left with you two, like you asked... If only...." he trailed off into a miserable silence.

Bang! The boys jumped as the door rebounded off the wall. "Well, I think the two of you are being selfish and ridiculous! Thinking only of yourselves and looking for somewhere to place the blame!" Ginny had burst into the room, apparently after overhearing their conversation from the hall. "Ron, I love Hermione too; she's like a sister to me. But wallowing in guilt won't help get her back. And what," she turned to Harry, "was so important at the old headquarters that you three would risk going there against Remus' advice?" The boys looked at her anxiously, but didn't answer. "Come on, give over," she demanded. "You two need to fill me in on what's been going on."

Harry shook his head ruefully. "No, Ginny. We can't tell you what we were doing. The fewer people who know, the more likely we are to succeed. And we have to succeed. Besides, I won't make you a target for the Death Eaters by getting you mixed up in this."

"In case you haven't noticed," Ginny retorted heatedly, "my whole family is already targeted. We're blood traitors, remember? Whatever's going on, you had better include me, or I swear, I'll go to Mum." She looked back-and-forth between them. "She'll get every last detail out of you two."

Harry and Ron exchanged a long, serious look. "She won't give up until she gets her way, you know," Ron said to Harry. Harry scowled, but said nothing. "And she's bang-on about one thing: blaming ourselves won't help Hermione. You said it yourself, Harry, we had to finish searching the house. That book is priceless! It could be the key to defeating Voldemort."

"Yeah," Harry replied slowly. "All three of us knew the risks involved in going there – we're all of age. We made a choice and acted on it. Now we need some damage control." He turned to Ginny. "Lock the door. I'll cast an Imperturbable Charm on it. Ron, you do Muffliato. Let's make sure no one else in the house hears this."

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Snape had gone out after breakfast, returning several hours later with a stack of books and a package wrapped in brown paper. Hermione had passed the time in the living room, reading a book she had selected from the shelves. Pettigrew had stayed in the room with her the entire time. His periodic scrutiny had made her extremely uncomfortable. He's so creepy, she had thought as his eyes slid over her form yet again. She almost welcomed Snape's return, as it sent Pettigrew scurrying from the room.

Her former professor tossed the package to her, and reacting reflexively, she caught it. "There are two pair of robes in there," he stated. "They should fit well enough. If not, you can alter them as needed."

"Thank you," she replied automatically. Then, considering what he had just told her, she asked, "You have sewing supplies here?"

He actually looked faintly amused. "No. But you won't need them." He reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out her wand. This, too, was tossed into her lap. "I am sure you are capable of fixing the garments magically, if necessary," he said.

Hermione eyes widened in astonishment. She lifted the wand, examining it as if to confirm that it was real.

With a gesture toward her wand, Snape continued, "It has been modified to prevent its use in certain types of magic. You cannot cast any spell on another person and you cannot use Concealment Charms of any sort on yourself. I have been told, however, that you can use defensive magic that affects only yourself. The wand also retains all its utility for Charms and Transfiguration involving objects and animals."

"The Virga Termino Charm," Hermione said slowly, still staring at her wand. She looked up at Snape. "I've read about that. I thought only Ministry officials were permitted to perform it."

"That is correct," he smirked. "But one of my cohorts at the Riddle House is exceptionally talented at Charms. And Ministry limitations mean little to him."

"If you got my wand back, then you must have seen Dolohov..." she trailed off with a shudder.

"Actually, I spoke to all three of your former captors," he said with an expression of distaste. "You are under my authority exclusively, and I wished to make it clear to them that I would not allow any retaliation on their part."

Hermione's mind whirled. Why is he doing this? She couldn't make any sense of his motives. Something in her memory latched onto the names of the other men with Dolohov. "Caldwell, Pritchard. Are their children at Hogwarts?"

He merely nodded. After a moment she remembered. "Pritchard was a fourth year Slytherin, right? And Caldwell... his name's Owen, I think... wasn't he a sixth year Hufflepuff?" she said, surprise evident in her voice . "How can his father be a..." she stopped in embarrassment.

"Bastard? Thug? Vicious SOB?" he offered. "In other words, a Death Eater? Really, Granger, you don't honestly believe that all the Dark Lord's supporters are Slytherins, do you? Even noble Gryffindors have been known to join the ranks," he mocked. "Wormtail is not even the only current example!"

She was silent. He's right, she thought. I have to stop thinking so predictably. Preconceptions are often useless, and in this situation they could be dangerous. Besides, I'll never figure out what's going on with Snape if I go by all my school prejudices. The man is nothing if not nebulous. So, what do I know so far?

Snape sat down and watched the girl. Clearly, she was trying to work out the ramifications of what he'd said and done this morning. How long, he wondered, until she gets to the logical endpoint? And will she take the next step, or will I need to prompt her? Time stretched and Snape tilted his head back to relax and wait her out.

"Sir?" came her hesitant voice after a few minutes. "You mentioned before that I'll be able to use my wand for Charms and Transfigurations. What, specifically do you have in mind? You should know that I won't willingly participate in any of Lord Vol..." She stopped when she saw the look on his face. "Um, your leader's activities!" she finished. Suddenly, her voice became defiant. "You may think you can force me, but I know how to fight the Imperius Curse! We learned it in fourth year!"

Snape almost smiled. Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for taking the next three steps. In spite of his prior opinion of the girl, he was impressed with her deductive powers. On the other hand, he was not impressed by her bravado. He knew his own strength and judged hers to be inferior, as well as still developing. She would be no match for him in a true contest. No more than Potter had been.

He drew a breath and looked at her dispassionately. "I don't intend to force you into anything," he said levelly. "I intend to continue your education." He nodded toward the stack of books he had brought back with him. "Those are the relevant texts for seventh year studies in Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology and Arithmancy. You will not, for obvious reasons, be able to continue in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I will not degrade myself with such topics as Divination and History of Magic."

For the second time in an hour, Hermione was stunned. The opportunity to finish her education was her most cherished desire. She had secretly decided that, once Voldemort was defeated, she would return to school. Her duty to help Harry and the wizarding world came first, but after that, she wanted to finish her NEWTs if it was still possible. She realized that she had been staring, probably open-mouthed, at Snape for several moments. She turned her eyes eagerly toward the books he had brought. Well, if I can't help Harry and Ron right now, she thought, there's nothing I would rather do than study. Being a prisoner might not be as bad as I imagined last night.

Gradually though, the elated feeling dimmed as other, less appealing thoughts occurred to her. Hold on..., Snape hates teaching; he said as much last night. And he has never liked me, personally. In fact, as Harry's friend, he's been downright nasty toward me! Why would he offer to teach me? What could he possibly have to gain? Wait – he's known me since I was eleven, he knows I love school, all the teachers knew it. He's trying to manipulate me... But why? Damn! I wish I had more facts. I can't solve this puzzle with only half the pieces. What should I do? she deliberated mentally.

For his part, Severus Snape was quite satisfied with the way this conversation was proceeding. He watched in silence as the girl's emotions crossed her face, one-after-the-other: first amazement, then excitement, then serious consideration, and finally, suspicion. Where would she end up, he wondered, anger and rejection, or cautious acceptance? Personally, he was betting on acceptance. The lure of knowledge was a powerful inducement for someone like her. And, after all, what else did she have to do during her captivity?

After several long minutes, Hermione looked up at Snape. There was determination in her eyes and something else that Snape couldn't identify, but it reminded him of Minerva McGonagall, and that made him feel wary.

She began with a challenge. "Sooner or later, I'll figure out your game – just as I figured out your riddle when I was twelve!" He regarded her with a flat stare, but didn't reply, so she continued. "So far, you've prevented three of your fellow Death Eaters and V... your 'Dark Lord' from killing me. You retrieved and returned my wand. Now you're offering to tutor me. Why go through all this trouble for a hostage?" she asked. "Won't I be released before long when your demands are met?"

"Your friends may not be so willing to give us what we want. It is possible your stay here will be... prolonged," he replied.

She thought that over for a minute, then said, "This isn't just about me. There's something much larger going on." She raised her eyebrows as if asking 'I'm right aren't I?'

This time, Snape did smile. But his answer, like his cold, expressionless eyes, was unenlightening. "That," he said, "is between the Dark Lord and I."

She sniffed and muttered, "About what I expected."

Enough! he thought. It's time to see which way the bet falls out. Aloud he said briskly, "Well, Granger, should I return those books and confiscate your wand for the duration of your stay?"

Looking in his eyes she took a deep breath answered softly, "No, sir. If you're willing to teach me, I want to learn."

-----------------------------

Late that night, Mr. Weasley was contacted via the Floo. The sound of a male voice calling, "Arthur!" from the kitchen, triggered a veritable avalanche of redheads tumbling into the room. "Cronus' caprines!" exclaimed the head floating in the fireplace, "how many o' those are yours?"

"All of them, except Harry there," Arthur replied with a small smile. "Do you have news for us, Aberforth?"

"Yes! Two men came in the Hog's Head earlier tonight," Aberforth related. "They used some sort o' Dark charm to beat the Eavesdropping Spell I'd put on the tables. That made me suspicious, so I had 'em followed when they left."

"Which agent did you send?" Arthur inquired.

"Silas Bones. He's real keen to do them Death Eaters some major damage after what happened to his cousin."

"Yes, I imagine so," Arthur replied thoughtfully.

"Did he learn anything?" George cut in impatiently.

"Yes," Aberforth said. "The Granger girl is alive." At this, there was a collective gasp of relief throughout the kitchen. "Looks like they're goin' to use her as a hostage," he continued.

"Any clue as to where she's being held?" Arthur asked.

"None. Silas tailed 'em using an Invisibility Cloak. He only heard part o' what they were saying. The buggers ducked between the houses a couple o' blocks from the pub and Disapparated."

"Alright, thanks Aberforth," said Arthur.

"Be in touch," was his short reply, before his head disappeared with a pop.

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Author's Notes:

1. Spells: Virga Termino = wand restriction

2. Silas Bones: I invented him. I was unhappy when Amelia Bones was knocked-off in canon (and offstage too!) and I figured she should have an avenger.