Part I, chapter 9

AN: Thanks, Southern!

Hermione's stomach groaned again, and she bent over a little more, trying to muffle the sound. She hoped Snape wouldn't be so unfair as to blame her for her stomach's noise, but she wasn't willing to bet her life on it.

They had been down in the lab for hours now. She hadn't eaten in... She didn't know how long it had been since she'd had more than a biscuit, but she knew that Snape would break for lunch sooner or later. He had told her that she would get another pee break at lunchtime, so that meant he intended to eat at some point. She just hoped it would be soon. Her stomach's growls were getting louder.

She curled up, pressing her crossed arms to her stomach, trying to simultaneously stifle the noise and distract herself from the gnawing pain. Without thinking about it, she started rocking back and forth just slightly while gazing at the book on the floor.

She should have known that Snape, of all people, would not have a copy of Pride and Prejudice on his shelves. She should have expected something more like the vile treatise the book was. She'd had a good idea about the pride purebloods took in their lineage, what she hadn't known, though if she'd thought about it, she would have guessed, was how victimized they felt. They felt the Muggle-borns and the Wizarding world were persecuting them for their superiority. They felt the world was prejudiced against them!

She had very, very little patience for that type of argument, especially while she was being held hostage by a half-blood on the order of another half-blood who was trying to pass himself off as the savior for pureblood supremacy. To tell the truth, it irked her quite a lot.

Her stomach gave a stab of protest at its lack of contents, and she curled in on herself a little further, holding in a whimper.

She knew she shouldn't be such a ninny about something that was more of an inconvenience than anything, but she was tired and emotionally upset. She just wanted food and a good lie down, preferably with a book that wasn't full of hateful rhetoric.

She knew that was asking too much, though. In her current circumstances, she would be lucky if Snape didn't deliberately stuff himself just to prevent her from eating. She didn't know what Wormtail would do, though she suspected he might be willing to eat a little less than he had the night before, simply to worm his way into her pants.

She cringed and wondered again if she could go through with her plan. He was such a repulsive little man... She thought she had a better chance of conning him than she had of conning Snape. She just had to be careful; that was all. But the thought of him touching her still made her feel ill. Or maybe that was the hunger.

Suddenly, a pair of black boots appeared in her line of sight. Looking up, she found Snape was sneering at her.

"Oh, did that book offend your delicate sensibilities?" he asked in a tone that reminded her horribly of Dolores Umbridge.

She struggled with the urge to glare at him and shortly did manage to compose her face into a blank expression.

"Considering current circumstances, I find I have few sympathies for their case."

She nearly jumped when he let out a sharp bark of laughter, but tried not to look startled.

"Better arguments have been made in their favor, I assure you," he said as the humor abruptly left his face. "Now come."

He gestured for her to rise, and she did so, surprised that he moved back to give her a bit of space. They walked to the door, and then he extended his hand to her once more. Still uneasy about the ward, she gingerly took his hand and followed him out, dropping his hand as soon as they were through.

Her hopes that it was lunchtime were rewarded as Snape made his way to the kitchen, his long strides making her trot to keep up, which she was eager to do. She couldn't wait to eat. It wasn't until they entered the kitchen and Snape sat down at the table that she remembered cooking was her job.

With a quiet sigh, she went to the larder for the bread and meat, hoping he wouldn't mind canned ham sandwiches. She knew she was hungry enough to tolerate anything. She would even eat mushrooms if they were on hand.

She finished making the tea and two sandwiches each when Wormtail walked in. She eyed the tin of ham, a knot of dread forming in her chest. She wasn't going to get to eat again.

Straightening her shoulders, she divided the sandwiches onto two plates and took them to the men, not bothering to get her own plate of food. She sat down in her seat from the night before and tried not to salivate as the men devoured the sandwiches.

"Was that all you made?" Snape asked disapprovingly.

"I can make more if you're still hungry, sir," she said, trying for a neutral tone.

"Then make more," he snarled.

Nodding, she got up and crossed to the counter again. She was surprised to hear Wormtail actually speak up in her defense.

"She's just trying to be thrifty, Severus. You needn't be so hard on her."

"And what would you know about conservation?"

"I'm here, aren't I? I've offered the Dark Lord more--"

"Rubbish, Wormtail, rubbish. The only reason the Dark Lord has put up with your offerings is because he knows that, rat that you are, you aren't able to distinguish between what's of use or refuse. He is most merciful, knowing that it's a biological failing."

Hermione heard Wormtail splutter for a moment or two, then mutter something.

"What was that, Wormtail? I'm afraid I missed that last bit."

"You're one to talk."

"Pray tell, Peter, what do you mean?"

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head in dread when Wormtail actually answered him.

"I mean you're not exactly a piece of biological perfection in your own right. I might transform to a mere rat, but at least I'm an Animagus!"

"True, but I didn't have the need. I didn't have those kinds of friends."

Hermione could tell Snape was enjoying himself, and at that point she just wished Wormtail would shut up. Didn't he know that he was going to lose any verbal battle against Snape?

"At least I had friends."

"Oh, I had friends, Wormtail. And, unlike you, I've managed to keep most of them."

Hermione heard the sound of a chair being slammed back and turned to find Wormtail standing, pointing a shaking wand at Snape, who just raised an eyebrow.

"Go ahead, Peter. See how far you make it."

Wormtail clenched his fist while Snape took a sip of his tea, looking decidedly unconcerned.

"Fuck you, Snape!" Wormtail spat at him and then left the room in a huff.

Hermione watched Snape with wide-eyes as he took another sip of his tea and then put his cup down with a steady hand.

"Any day now, Granger."

Starting, she turned and collected the sandwiches she'd made and hurried to the table.

Five minutes later, Snape pushed his plate away with nearly half a sandwich leftover.

"Not your best showing, Granger, but you can have the leftovers if you want."

She looked up from the sandwich to find him watching her with a shrewd expression. At that moment she wished desperately that she wasn't so hungry. She wanted nothing more than to leave that sandwich where it was and keep her pride. But...

Lowering her eyes, she reached out for the sandwich, only to have Snape grab her wrist before she could touch it.

"You didn't say thank you, Granger. I thought I told you to learn some respect, girl!"

He shoved her hand away and took the plate to the trash bin. Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying out for him to stop, but couldn't stop the wince when he dropped the sandwich into the bin. Placing the empty plate onto the counter, he then crossed the room to loom over her.

"Well? What have you to say for yourself?"

Hermione stared at the floor, willing herself not to cry.

"I'm sorry, sir," she whispered.

"Look at me when you're talking, and speak up!"

Hermione lifted her head first, then her eyes, still willing herself not to cry.

"I'm sorry, sir." Her voice was shaky, but audible.

"Sorry for what, precisely?"

Clenching her eyes shut, she jumped when she heard something whip against the table, and then felt the wind of displaced air brush against her face. Opening her eyes, she found Snape's face inches from hers, his cold eyes glaring at her with obvious malice.

"You will look at me when I am talking to you. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded fearfully before remembering to vocalize. "Yes, sir."

He backed off enough to stand up and loom properly again. "What are you sorry about, or were you just offering false platitudes?" he demanded.

Hermione pursed her lips, trying to keep her chin from wobbling. "I'm sorry I was disrespectful, sir."

"Is that all?"

Hermione shook her head while trying to think what else she should be sorry for. To him. She sniffed and wished she could keep from crying. When he crossed his arms impatiently, she looked around the room for inspiration. That's when her eyes fell on the trash bin.

"I'm sorry to have wasted food, sir."

"Is that all?"

Thinking for a moment, she nervously nodded. "Yes, sir?"

"Is that a question?" he asked, his lips turning up into a wicked smirk.

"No, sir!" Hermione said quickly.

His smirk grew as he regarded her coolly, but then he backed off, and his stern demeanor waned. "I shall forgive you this time, for the disrespect, but as for the food..."

"I really am sorry, sir!" Hermione cried, letting the tears flow. She was sorry! She hadn't wanted that sandwich to go into the trash. She wanted to eat it! She was so hungry!

He leaned back against the counter lazily. "If you feel so horrible about it, I suppose I could let you remedy the situation."

Hermione froze. She didn't like that tone. She didn't like the possibilities that were presenting themselves. She really didn't like Snape. Swallowing, she looked up at him.

He was regarding her coolly, smirking in a self-satisfied way and obviously waiting for her to make the next move.

"Wha...I would appreciate the chance, sir." She didn't like the way he smiled when she said that.

"Then let there be no waste."

She looked at him in wide-eyed comprehension, trying to believe he didn't mean what she thought.

"I..."

He shrugged. "Either dig out the sandwich and eat it or go without food and water for the next three days. Your choice, Granger."

She realized her jaw had gone slack and closed her mouth with a snap, suddenly resolute.

"I'd rather starve, sir."

His smile didn't fade, but it got very hard around the edges.

"So be it. Now come. You've wasted food and time enough."

Allowing herself one muffled sob, she followed him out of the room, trying not to think of the half eaten sandwich lying in the trash.

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Oh, how terribly predictable. Foolish girl. Does she really think that starving herself is going to help her out? It'll just make the landing that much harder when her pride finally falls.