Chapter Seven - To Reign is Worth Ambition, Though in Hell

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR and/or Daniel Knauf. I do not profit from writing this story.

Author's Notes: My beta, melusin, has greatly improved this story.

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He felt no hatred for this man. It disturbed him every time he tried to fathom how that was humanly possible. Normal witches and wizards would be revolted and terrified the moment this beast stepped in front of them.

But not Severus. He felt no animosity or spite toward his master.

Because of this, one would assume that he was gladly bowing with reverent submission in front of the Dark Lord every time his knee hit the ground. But, Severus was not like the other Death Eaters.

He felt no respect for this man.

Severus bowed before his master with an elegant sweep of his robes. He possessed his own subtle displays of rebellion within forced acquiescence. Severus refused to surrender himself to anyone, or anything, completely.

He knew the game. Do not make eye contact until the Dark Lord requests it. Do not speak a word until the creature demands it. Severus began the slow process of schooling his thoughts and avoided remembering the time when he had remained on blooded knees for well over an hour. The madman had paced the room, talking to a familiar that no longer existed. The quest for immortality did not seem worth this much energy. What was the point of living forever if your mind was not lucid enough to enjoy it?

Severus attempted to distract himself from these contemplations by staring at the large leak in the corner of the ceiling. The yellowed wood bent heavily in the darkened wet patch, reeking of sweetened rot. Moisture slowly pulled from the crusted rim toward the center before filling a brown water drop in the middle. Snape watched the drop grow large and plump before it finally fell to the mushy wood of the floorboards. He wondered if the same drop would soak through the already damp floor, onto the ceiling of the landing below. He easily imagined how filthy that drop would be before it reached the basement. Before it found rest and stopped falling.

"Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Tell me the useful information you have discovered about him."

Permission, Severus thought. Before attempting to make eye contact with the Dark Lord, he promptly disciplined his memories to reflect the information Dumbledore desired him to divulge. Projecting images was far easier than the projection of the emotions he also had to display. Obedience, submission, dedication, faith, fear... Severus did not use Occlumency to hide as much as he needed Occlumency to show.

It never occurred to Severus how unnatural it was for someone to function this way.

Severus' vision remained unfocused as the Dark Lord ripped through his mind. He didn't wish to see the madness reflected in those scarlet eyes. Too much concentration would thrust him into the beast's psyche, completely unnoticed and unguarded. Severus would not make that mistake again.

"Dumbledore shared more with you then he originally intended."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You convinced him well."

He really did.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Black appeared very... under the weather," Voldemort whispered harshly with a satanic grin. "He is weak, but I am not worried. Have you had a chance to view this keepsake of his, Severus?"

"No, my Lord. Not even Dumbledore has laid eyes on it. Although, I suspect he carries it with him everywhere."

"As do I... the fool," he cackled. The Dark Lord began to pace about the empty, dust ridden parlor room once more, mumbling as incoherent thoughts raced through his mind; making connections, insinuating obscene solutions to non-existent problems; always attempting the impossible.

Severus suppressed a shudder as the hearth fire slowly died down. His nerves were too much on edge to be distracted by the draught in the room or the chaffing of his knee.

The Dark Lord suddenly stopped walking and jerked around to face Severus for more questioning. "What are you still doing on the floor? Didn't I already tell you to rise?"

No. "Of course, my Lord. Forgive me."

"I need more information than that which you have supplied me. The archway will be the new avenue for my next division."

Division, Snape scoffed. No amount of euphemisms could disguise those actions for what they really were. Soul splicing. Damnation in the flesh.

Merlin help him. Severus hoped beyond reason that he would not be visited tonight.

They always knew when Severus made great strides to help his Master. Who or what they were, Severus could not say. But, his repeated connections with the Headmaster or Lord Voldemort always led to those dreams; past experiences he had no desire to relive; treading through memories that were not his own.

Severus could already feel the tips of the flames of hell licking at the edge of his mind.

"I want you to constantly watch Black. See to it that he does not come to any harm."

Severus' head jerked in surprise, disbelief flowing through him at being giving this task for a second time by an opposing party. Severus risked maintaining eye contact outside the realm of opening his mind, searching Voldemort's face for some logical reason for this request.

Voldemort could see the questions behind Severus' emotionless expression. Arching a hairless eyebrow on the unspoken threat of punishment, he dared Severus to doubt his motives.

"Of course, my Lord. I will not rest until you are satisfied."

The dark creature stared at Severus as he grinned nastily.

"I know."

*** *** ***

A young boy pushed his bruised body up off the mattress by his forearms, his elbows shaking as he struggled to support his own weight. His stringy black hair stuck to his sweaty face. He breathed small shallow breaths so his damaged ribs would not re-puncture his lungs.

"I swear, Headmaster, I'm telling you the truth!" Snape cringed as he attempted to move his sore body.

Professor Dumbledore towered over Severus' hospital bed, speaking in quiet anger. "I wish you could see the consequences of your actions. Why must you be so blinded by the pure-blood ideologies of your friends?"

"What are you talking about?" Severus screamed. "I was the one who was attacked!"

"Silence!" Dumbledore barked.

Snape had never seen him so angry, and fell back against his bed with a defeated sag.

"Sirius told me everything, you foolish boy! Of course you would be attacked. What else did you think might happen when you went into the passageway after Lupin? You saw that it was a full moon! Attempted murder is punishable by a life sentence in Azkaban-- "

"EXACTLY! So, will you finally do something about Bla-- "

"--SO," Dumbledore loudly continued, "you should be thankful that I'm not going to report you to the Aurors."

Severus breathing quickened, throat constricting in despair at the unjust threat. "Not report... me?" he said weakly, his stomach twisted in anger.

"Your hatred for 'half-breeds,' as you call them, is no reason to go to such extremes!"

"You cannot honestly believe that I tried to-- "

"I have no reason to believe anything you say anymore."

Eyes blazing, Severus watched Professor Dumbledore quickly turn to exit the hospital wing. Dumbledore didn't believe him. If Dumbledore was so convinced as to believe the worst, then everyone would. He had spent years trying to convince the Headmaster that he didn't instigate the numerous fights that broke out between him and the Marauders, but to no avail.

It was useless now. He might as well stop trying.

Gasping, Severus choked as he willed himself not to cry. He fiercely raised his hands behind his head to grasp his pillow, pulling it out from under him. Clutching the pillow to his face, Severus screamed into it with all his might.

Severus jerked awake as his head bobbed in the air, his chin slipping from his hand. A frustrated moan escaped his mouth as he looked down at the various uncompleted lesson plans littering his desk.

Even though tomorrow would mark the first day of September, Severus pushed himself away from his desk in search of some much needed sleep.

Entering his dungeon chambers, Severus flicked his wand at the numerous candles, casting his bedroom into complete darkness. He pulled back the thick duvet of his four-poster and reluctantly climbed in.

Raising his palm, he placed the back of his hand over his eyes to force himself to keep them closed.

A small whimper vibrated off the stone walls in his bedroom.

"Stop it," he commanded to his empty room.

Her cries were getting louder, joined by two foreign voices speaking in a quick discussion.

"Go away," Severus growled.

The crying woman began to gasp in shock.

"Shut the fuck up!" Severus jumped out of bed, turning in the direction of the voices in his room. Pointing his wand at the candles he had just extinguished, Severus willed them all to ignite simultaneously.

The light was blinding, sharply reflecting off the white walls and yellow tiles. He stared, wide eyed, as the familiar power hungry wizard turned toward a metal table lined with various medical instruments.

The dark haired woman on the operating table shook her head from side to side, disorientated as her anesthesia quickly wore off. She screamed as she took in her surroundings.

The two men, garbed in protective white coats and face masks, paid her no mind.

The callous wizard turned away from her to rummage through the instrument table again. His gloved hands and white smock were smeared with blood.

Severus slowly approached the operating table. The mad wizard and even madder Muggle blocked the woman from his view. Standing behind the two butchers, Severus wished he could scream at the woman; tell her to stop fighting against her bound limbs.

Didn't she know what part of her they were dissecting?

The Muggle doctor lost all patience, finally showing his 'patient' the attention she screamed for. He pulled back his balled fist, and socked her squarely on the jaw with his filthy hand.

"Untermensch!" he screamed.

The woman kept the side of her face against the metal operating table, weeping hopelessly to herself as the blood from her lower extremities dripped down her cheek and into her mouth.

"UGH!" Severus bellowed as the side of his face collided with the end table. Picking himself up off the floor, he spun around in his bedroom, senses on full alert.

He was alone. He was awake.

Pushing his sweat drenched hair out of his face, Severus fled from his bedroom.

*** *** ***

The porcelain felt cool under his forehead. Severus concentrated on this one positive feeling as his body convulsed unwillingly against him.

He knew he should have eaten last night, but he didn't care.

Over the years his body had trained itself against making the noises that conveyed its needs. As many times as he found himself sprawled on the bathroom floor, Severus never quite curbed the nightly appetites that would prevent this morning routine.

If he only ate a little more before he started drinking, he would not be retching uncontrollably at the moment. Still, Severus welcomed the numbing effect alcohol gifted his mind, especially on the nights he did his Dark Lord's bidding. He would gladly retch miserably in the morning rather than face the other ghastly alternative.

*** *** ***

"Don't be nervous," Luna Lovegood said dreamily, appearing at Hermione's side on the Hogsmeade platform.

Hermione tugged repeatedly at her school robes which were snagged on a rusted nail of the train.

"Nervous about what?" she asked absently.

The sixth-year Ravenclaw rolled up her copy of The Quibbler, tucking it sloppily into the waistband of her school skirt. "Everyone's going to be watching you. It's your seventh year and Harry is constantly in the papers. You being Head Girl wasn't much of a surprise, was it?"

"Well... I wouldn't say that... " Hermione said uncomfortably.

"Oh, so you didn't expect to be made Head Girl?"

I did. A wave a nausea washed over Hermione.

"I would be terrified if I was given that position." Luna's protruding grey eyes widened even further. "But, if anyone could use it wisely, it would be you."

Reaching for their belongings, the two girls headed towards the carriages that waited to take them up to the castle. Hermione took her time getting in as she waited for Ginny to catch up.

"Use what wisely, exactly?" Hermione finally asked.

"Your power of influence."

Hermione directed her attention to helping Ginny into the carriage as she had lost the drive to have Luna explain further.

*** *** ***

"Heidenheim," Hermione commanded at her door. At least she could find comfort in deciding her own passwords.

Hermione entered her Head Girl rooms with an irritated flourish and quickly started unpacking. Harry and Ron had really aggravated her at the Welcoming Feast. The more she had snapped, stressing that there was nothing bothering her, the more they were convinced otherwise. Classes started in the morning, and she just wanted to hurry up and get to her rooms to unpack so she could obtain some decent sleep. She had been relieved when her two friends were suddenly distracted by a loud scream. Unfortunately, the ruckus was caused by an hysterical second year, who had burst into tears the moment Sirius had greeted her on his way to the Head Table.

As the last of Hermione's underclothes were tucked neatly into a gorgeous white acid-washed chest of drawers, it occurred to her that she had never taken the time to inspect nor appreciate her spacious rooms. Crookshanks had already found solace in one of the two plush wingback chairs positioned in front of the fireplace. Both chairs were colored a pale blue that intensely complimented the cream colored duvet which was embroidered with small, pale blue lilies. Her four-poster was the same white oak wood as her wardrobe and chest of drawers. She had to admit that it was a lovely room, even if it was a bit to girly for her taste.

Hermione grabbed the numerous decorative pillows littered on her bed and stacked them onto the tiny window seat that overlooked part of the lake. She pulled down the thick duvet, eager to crawl in. Hermione really needed to get some sleep, as her body had denied itself the luxury the last couple of days since she... Never mind, don't think about it.

Merlin help her. Hermione had the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that came with the anticipation of receiving her class timetable in the morning. She just knew that she would have Potions first period.

Just as she was about to crawl into the lush bed, Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of insistent knocking on her door.

What now? Merlin help those boys if they think I'm going to sit up all night discussing...

She swung the heavy door inward, jumping back slightly as she was bombarded with an overenthusiastic greeting.

"Hermione! I missed you on the train!" squealed Lavender Brown a bit too loudly.

Hermione stared at her, confusion written all over her face.

"Here, you left this at the Gryffindor table." A tanned hand with long shocking pink fingernails thrust up into Hermione's face. Within it was her Head Girl's badge.

"Merlin! I didn't even know I'd lost it." Hermione was too much in shock at her own carelessness to catch the slight grin on the blonde girl's face as she edged herself into the room.

Whatever caused the plastic grin on Lavender's face, it was soon forgotten as she paused to gape around, slack-jawed, at the Head Girl's bedroom.

"It's gorgeous."

"Hmm?" Hermione hummed distractedly as she went to pin the badge on her school robes.

"Here. I thought the castle would repeat its abysmal habit of choosing severe house colors for decor," Lavender continued without a beat, quickly sticking her head into the adjoining bathroom.

Hermione glanced impatiently at the back of her irritating classmate. Lavender seemed to change more drastically every summer. Her hair was much paler and processed, unlike the natural light brown tones that used to litter it. Hermione had to admit that the lively girl used to look much more beautiful. Maybe she was just prejudiced against cosmetics, but the shocking colors of eye shadow, blusher, lipstick, eye charcoal... What is she trying to hide?

Wait a minute... Hermione didn't remember inviting the girl into her room.

"Thanks for finding the badge and bringing it to me Lavender, but I really need some sleep before classes tomorrow."

Lavender's eyes darkened slightly at her dismissal before she became suddenly pert again. "Sure, no problem," her high girly voice sang.

Before fully exiting Hermione's room, Lavender turned to her with a big grin on her face.

"You know, it being our last year and all that, it would be great if we tried to enjoy it the best we can. Parvati and I are really going to miss having you share a room with us," she whined, combing her sharp nails through her hair. "It's still your room, too, you know. You can study or even sleep there whenever you want."

No!

"Uh, yeah thanks, sometime. Maybe." Hermione didn't even bother to try to hide the skeptical crease in her brow before quickly closing the door.

*** *** ***

The strap of her bag cut deeply into her shoulder as she ran through the halls.

Late.

Hermione Granger was never late. But, of course, as the fates would have it, she was about to be late for her first class. And, to make the situation almost comical, her first class just happened to be Advanced Potions. Maybe, if she had been a bit less flustered, she wouldn't have let the door slam behind her as she entered the room. Only the Potions master himself is allowed such an entrance.

"I must be dreaming," Ron muttered under his breath, pinching himself as Hermione sat at the empty table in front of him and Harry. The two front worktables closest to Snape's desk were almost always unoccupied.

"Well, well... Miss Granger." Hermione's hand stilled from emptying the contents of her bag, her only display that he had gained her full attention. She refused to look up.

"I do believe that in the many number of years I have been teaching, the Head Girl or Boy has never been late for the first Potions class of their final year."

She could hear the sneer so evidently plastered across his mouth, yet she still didn't look up.

"I must congratulate you on achieving such a memorable... honor." Growing clearly impatient with her behavior, Snape glided down to the front of her table and slammed his hand on the desk to make her look up. "If you plan on being late again, please save me the displeasure of interrupting my lectures and do not bother entering at all."

Black eyes framed by straight curtains of lank hair scowled at her. Hermione had wanted to do anything but look at him, and now she couldn't look away. Snape found this far more unsettling.

He straightened himself to address the rest of the class. "This goes for all of you. You are in NEWT level Potions now, and I refuse to tolerate laziness of any sort."

Hermione silently cleared her throat as he walked past her to stalk around the room. Ducking her head so her thick hair fell forward, Hermione's face burned and she prayed that it was not noticeable to anyone.

In her attempt to appear composed and impassive, the complete silence of the Potions classroom alarmed her. It was so quiet. Unusually quiet after a Gryffindor, and the Head Girl no less, had just been brutally reprimanded and insulted by the Potions master himself. Hermione dared to turn her head, eyeing the Slytherin students who were usually eager to laugh and jeer along with Professor Snape. She eyed Pansy Parkinson first, whose high-pitched cackle always stood out in the loudest of crowds.

Hermione almost did not recognize her. Her face was sunken, wrists skinny from weight loss. Pansy worked on her potion mechanically, not really hearing or seeing the environment around her as her eyes remained wide and unblinking. Hermione frowned when she noticed the empty chair next to her.

"Not much of a surprise, is it?" Harry said, leaning across his worktable to whisper in her ear.

"You mean Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"Yup. Didn't return to finish his seventh year. Went on the run the same night Dumbledore got sick," Harry replied.

"The night the both of you found the fake locket?" Hermione whispered urgently.

"Hold on," Harry leaned back into his seat, signaling Professor Snape's presence with a jerk of his head.

*** *** ***

"I heard an Auror found him attempting to break into the Headmaster's office," Hermione continued the moment the three of them exited the Potions classroom.

"Yeah," Harry said blankly. "Couldn't wait for me and Dumbledore to leave the castle."

Hermione and Ron were silent as they walked to their next class. Harry kept his body facing forward as he waited for one of them to say something. Glancing at them, he couldn't help but smirk in righteous satisfaction to see the uncomfortable grimaces on their faces.

"Rotten luck," Ron finally added after taking their favored seats at the back of the Transfiguration classroom, "Malfoy getting away and all. And, crazy old Lucius escaping from Azkaban. Do you think they're on the run together?"

Harry paused from pulling books out of his bag before answering. "No, I doubt Lucius would be so dumb, especially when Voldemort has who knows how many people looking for Draco. I wouldn't be surprised if the twitchy ferret was disowned."

"So, no Quidditch this year, eh?" Ron asked morosely.

"There'll still be teams, I just won't be on ours," Harry said determinedly.

"Yeah, I supposed we'll be to busy with NEWTs and finding the missing --"

"Shh!" Hermione hissed, shooting Ron a death glare for almost discussing the Horcruxes aloud.

"Look, Ron, just because I'm not going to be in the team doesn't mean that I expect you.... "

Predictably, Hermione's attention quickly drifted from their obsessive conversations about that ridiculous sport. Sitting straighter in her seat, she took notice of Pansy entering the class, walking stiffly with Nott at her side. Hermione's eyes narrowed when the broad shouldered boy eased his hand into the small of Pansy's back, directing her to sit beside him.

"Wands away," McGonagall commanded. "Turn to Chapter four, page thirty."

Even though the day had started abysmally, overall Hermione was content with the first day of classes. Her giddiness was finally starting to calm down. The first lessons were always a treasure for her. She listened to her enthralling professors as they briefly introduced all the new material that would be covered this school year, finally ending in the taking of the much dreaded, or if you were Hermione Granger, much anticipated NEWT exams.

"You boys need to hurry up or we're going to be late for dinner!" Hermione stood by the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom wishing that Harry and Ron would hurry up and say goodbye.

"Why? We can just order food from the kitchens through the Floo," said Ron excitedly as he walked up toward Sirius' office door.

"But we're supposed to attend every meal in the Great Hall." Hermione hoisted the heavy bag onto her shoulder, giving them every indication that she was not about to put it down and get comfortable.

"Honestly, Hermione," Sirius smirked as he tilted his head, "you make it seem like I'm going to get into trouble, too. I am a professor here, you know, and I have the authority to allow you three to eat dinner in my office."

"Exactly," finished Harry as he opened the office door and walked right in.

Hermione didn't feel at ease about starting the year on such friendly terms with a professor whose true intentions were very evident.

"Fine, but I'm still going down to dinner. It's the first one after classes and it just doesn't seem right for the Head Girl not to be present."

Harry and Ron both rolled their eyes as she turned and walked through the door. She tried not to make eye contact with Sirius, but her peripheral vision caught the disappointed frown on his face.

She hurried as fast as she could to the Great Hall to force down some food. Aware that her first meeting with Dumbledore was scheduled right after dinner, her nervous stomach had been gnawing at her all day.

Hermione was stopped from her determined walk through the Great Hall when a hand shot out, gripping her around the wrist.

"Hermione!" squealed Lavender. "Sit with us."

Hermione looked down at the unwelcome grip on her wrist. An uncontrollable slight flicker of disgust crossed her features before Hermione realized what she was doing. She took one look at Lavender and Parvati's overenthusiastic smiles. "No, uh, thanks, but I'm going to sit with Ginny."

"What was that all about?" whispered Ginny as Hermione sat down beside her.

"I honestly have no idea."

"You know, those two have been acting really weird around me too. At breakfast, Lavender sat next to me, combing her fingers through my hair and asking what shampoo I use."

Hermione looked thoughtfully at Ginny before glancing down the table towards Lavender and Parvati. Both girls turned their heads toward their food, obviously trying to hide the fact that they had just been staring at Hermione and Ginny.

"Something odd is definitely going on here," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione, dear," her Head of House called behind her. She continued after Hermione turned in her seat, "Professor Dumbledore is waiting in his office for you now to discuss your Head Girl duties."

Hermione nodded in understanding and silently followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall. They walked side by side, comfortable in their silence. Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat, but kept her face constantly facing forward during the healthy walk to the Headmaster's office on the seventh floor. She could feel Minerva's agitation resonate in waves, yet didn't give any indication that she noticed. If McGonagall had had her way, Hermione would not have been assigned this mission.

"This is as far as I go," the staunch figure announced at the foot of the winding stairs. Such a remark really need not have been said for an instance so trivial as walking to an office door, but to both women it meant so much more. The second Hermione set foot into the Headmaster's office, her Head of House would no longer have a persuasive authority to allow Hermione to do as she pleased.

"Enter," a somewhat hollow voice commanded on the other side of the polished door.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Good evening, my dear. I trust you ate well? Sherbet lemon?"

"Uh... no thanks. Yes, dinner was lovely," Hermione replied dismissively as she obeyed his hand gesture to sit in the large chair in front of his desk.

The elderly man sat back in his seat as his functional hand played with the whiskers on his chin. Hermione glanced here and there about his office, entranced by so many glittering and moving objects. Her eyes fell on a number of bookcases that she would have loved to have been left alone with. There was something very ancient and mysterious about the Headmaster's office. He loved to surround himself with so many valuable items that he never seemed to use.

"Shall I continue to ask you half-hearted questions about your day, or get straight to business?"

"Straight to business, please," Hermione replied immediately.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at her, expecting such a reaction.

"There is really not much more I can tell you that I haven't already. You will undertake the duties that are expected of you as Head Girl, plus so much more. As Head Girl, you are allowed to choose what time you wish to patrol the corridors, as well as setting patrol schedules for all the prefects. This is where I must urge you to take the night patrol. Surely, you must see the added benefits?"

"Of course. I can get around the castle much more easily unnoticed at night. And, if I am noticed, I have a very credible reason to be about."

"Exactly. My expectations for you are very simple, I believe. I meant what I said. I want you to watch and listen, and only to watch and listen. At no point do I want you to take an independent proactive role in whatever I ask of you, do you understand me? I'd ask for a written declaration or a wand oath, but I trust your honor in itself."

Hermione almost felt ashamed for asking, "May I ask why you do not wish me to do more? You know I would."

"Oh, I know you would -- you probably still will unintentionally. But, I already have enough members of the Order ready to sacrifice their lives in this war. If you are willing, believe me when I say that I appreciate the dedication, but understand also how hard I have worked for it to not come to this. I never in my dreams wished to bring the war within these very walls. Simply asking of you what I have thus far kills me a little inside. No student should have to feel responsible for so much more then their studies, but I cannot deny how much I need you."

During his speech, Dumbledore had risen from his seat to slowly pace around his large desk. Lost in thought, he turned his back on Hermione as he walked towards his office window.

"This could all have been prevented if I had been more patient. If I had simply waited to read the clues laid out before my very eyes in the first war, we would not be where we are now. But, even now, I feel my patience has led to wasted time and effort."

His eyes looked so watery. If he cried, there would be no stopping her own tears. "I understand, sir."

"Very good," he answered brightly, slightly taken off guard by her forgotten presence. "It is getting late and I am sure you have much to prepare for the coming week. If you have any questions, do not be afraid to stop by my office at any time, day or night. I will contact you further to tell you, specifically, what I want you to look for."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said as the Headmaster opened the door for her. Gripping the frame, she steeled her nerves as she turned to face him, "You know, I truly am grateful that you have trusted me enough to help in this way."

Dumbledore watched her race down the spiral staircase with a cheery bounce in her step. He slowly closed his eyes as he always did when questioning his motives.

"I know."

*** *** ***

Just as she expected, the halls were clear and silent as Hermione treaded her way back to her rooms. All for the better, she thought, since she was lost in reflection the moment she exited the spiral staircase. Dumbledore had hardly given her any direction, though she had a feeling that many more meetings were to come. First things first, she had to get back to her room and think out a set schedule for patrols for herself and the prefects. She only hoped the Head Boy would not put up much of an argument.

Hermione quickly froze in her tracks and stared hollowly at the moist brick wall beside her. Head Boy... I don't even know who he is. I never cared enough to ask. It was so silly and stupid she raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. Her voice echoed loudly, causing her to finally take notice her surroundings.

Gaining sense after a moment of disorientation, Hermione gasped, "What on earth am I doing in the dungeons?"

"Funny," replied a smooth deep voice hidden thick in the shadows, "I found myself wondering the same thing." Stepping into the light, Snape pulled the collar of his cloak higher on his neck as he rounded on her. "A little late for a walk, don't you think, Miss Granger? It is, after all, past curfew."

Hermione used the time it took for him to speak to square her shoulders. His hair hung heavily against his face, preventing the light from reaching his eyes. It gave her confidence to look him directly in the face. "Just out on patrol, Professor, being as I am Head Girl."

He stopped right in front of her and returned the brave stare, allowing his full face to be covered in candlelight. "Ah, of course. How convenient."

She was doing it again; looking at him too long and too hard, questions and concern written all over her face. She made a public display of inspecting him from head to toe.

"Anything of interest you would like to share?" he sneered.

Hermione glimpsed at his left hand hidden away under his cloak. "Be careful tonight, Professor."

Snape's eyes narrowed shrewdly at her gall. Catching himself, he grunted dismissively before continuing on his trek through the castle.

*** *** ***

In a dark corridor on the third floor, a young woman with shocking blonde hair squealed as she ran from her pursuer.

"No, Anthony," Lavender protested half-heartily. "We mustn't!"

Anthony cornered her at the end of the hallway; a rueful smile gracing his lips.

"Don't worry, I'm a prefect remember?" he purred, finally grasping her by the arms. "I'm delegated to patrol this floor." His left hand reached around the small of her back as he traced her lips with his other hand. "No one will catch us."

Lavender smiled seductively up at him, extending her arms around his neck.

"Tell me you missed me," she pouted.

Anthony smiled devilishly, lowering his head to kiss the skin of her neck.

"I want to finish what we started last year," he whispered into her ear. "I couldn't think of anything else all summer."

A slight moan escaped her mouth. Eyes closed, she reached for his face to kiss him. He sucked hard on her lips, pulling her closer as he thrust against her hip.

"Come on," he said, pulling away and grasping Lavender by the wrist. She squealed as he led her down to the other end of the corridor and opened a small door.

"In here?" Lavender questioned skeptically.

"It's all right," he said, kissing her affectionately on the forehead. "Trust me."

With a flattered smile, Lavender followed the tug on her wrist and entered the dark broom cupboard.

The moment the door closed, Anthony pushed Lavender against it, resuming his attack on her mouth. He edged his right foot between hers, pushing her legs apart. Lavender gasped as his cold hands yanked up her skirt to grasp her by the bum. With lustful eyes, she pulled her arms down from his neck to undo the top buttons on her blouse.

Anthony eyed her chest hungrily. He brought his hands up from under her skirt to pull her bra up and expose her full breasts. His tongue closed around a nipple as his other hand pulled up her skirt again to push her knickers down.

Anthony stopped lavishing his attention on her breasts to kneel on the floor, pulling her knickers down as he went.

Lavender giggled playfully, picking up each leg to free herself of the garment.

"Wait, don't get up," she whispered as she knelt on the floor next to him.

She tilted her head up, searching his face for another kiss, but Anthony turned his head down to undo the belt and buttons of his trousers. Straightening back up, Anthony motioned for Lavender to lie back.

"Just take them off," Lavender insisted.

"No need," Anthony said as he pulled his erect penis out through the small opening in his underpants. "Lie down."

"Um, all right." Lavender straightened her legs out, placing them on either side of Anthony's thighs at she leaned back on her elbows. Her pulse began to race when she realized she was wantonly spread open for him to see. She watched Anthony, kneeling above her, stroking himself as he eyed her wet clit. Reaching for both of her thighs, he wrapped her legs around him as he guided his erection into her.

The moment he felt fully engulfed, his hands clutched at her hips and he began to pump hard and fast.

"Wait," Lavender breathed, her head banging on the wall behind her. "Hold on, I think there's something under by back."

"Shh," Anthony huffed, as he continued to thrust into her, increasing to a frenzied speed. "I don't... want anyone... to hear us."

Lavender pushed at his arms. "But, I thought you said-- "

"Ah, shit," he moaned, pulling her hands away from his shoulders and pinning them to the floor on either side of her. "I'm gonna come."

Eyes closed, Anthony erratically thrusted a few more times into her, moaning and ignoring her whimpers of discomfort.

"Merlin!" He released her legs, collapsing on the balls of his feet. He took no notice of Lavender examining the cuts on her wrists as he tucked his flaccid penis into his underpants. Gasping for breath, Anthony stood up to button his trousers.

Pulling his hands through his hair, Anthony opened the door without a backward glance at the half-naked girl huddled on the floor.

"See you around."

Fighting back tears, Lavender's throat burned as she fished around on the floor for her discarded knickers.

*** *** ***

Lupin pulled his thin traveling cloak further up on his neck as he walked hurriedly down the cobblestone street. Eager for rest and a simple moment to catch his breath, he ignored the sharp stitch of pain jabbing his ribs. He needed to get to the hotel room as soon as possible.

Various witches and wizards looked back at him, irritated since he did not care if he nudged them in his hurry. The night was passing fast; precious time he did not have the luxury to waste. By habit, he turned left and right down several alleyways, between book shops and restaurants, only to turn back onto the main street again. Lupin never really knew if someone was following him, but fear of such an occurrence never left his mind. Far too many people knew of his monthly situation since his teaching stint at Hogwarts, and he had made far too many fanatical enemies along the way.

It always awed him that his current lover never cared.

Lupin may have earned a healthy sum teaching at Hogwarts which he had quickly put into savings, but it was still not enough to invest in a proper place to live for an extended period of time. He avoided buying new clothes as much as possible, since they would only be ripped during his transformations, and he didn't have the money to keep sending them to the tailor.

Almost everywhere he went, he was looked down upon. "Half-breed," wizards called him with disgust in their eyes and a sneer on their lips. Others thought him a beggar because of his attire, even though he never asked for a Knut. No matter, he had been used to living like this almost his whole life. He'd been alone for so long, abandoned by his family at a young age and losing all three of his closest friends before his twenty-third birthday. Lupin was a survivor in the lowest sense of the word and very good at it, too.

It amazed him how much his lover knew all this, understanding what made him insecure, without concentrating on the reactions of others.

"My room key, please," Lupin said to the barman as he blew hot air into his chilled fists. Lupin waited patiently as the greasy haired owner lazily finished polishing a cracked mug before reluctantly reaching under the counter for the key. He sniffed disdainfully at Lupin's outstretched hand and released the key a significant distance away so it fell with a thud on the moisture stained wood. Such treatment failed to register in Lupin's mind. Used to it for far too long, Lupin gave up on the natural instinct to expect, let alone demand, human respect of any sort.

That had been the hardest thing about his relationship with Tonks. Her fiery soul and exuberant personality made him feel ten years younger when he first started his relationship with her. But, she had always refused to accept his lower status in society. Lupin's naturally quiet and kind demeanor prevented him from seeking out attention of any sort, but that was a little difficult when your girlfriend had flaming pink hair and caused a ruckus wherever she went. The hardest part, however, was her stubborn unwillingness to allow anyone to show even the slightest disrespect to Lupin, either because he was a werewolf or because of his overall shabbiness. He got kicked out of more eateries and shops due to her angry outbursts than because of his status towards the end of their relationship, which had caused some pretty nasty arguments. She was unwilling to accept such treatment, and he was unwilling to draw attention to himself, so Lupin had to end the relationship for his own sanity.

Unlocking the door to his small room, Lupin quickly went about unpacking the small amount of belongings he had brought along. Expecting much worse, he was thankful that this place was at least somewhat clean. It may still be in Diagon Alley, but he had a clear view of Knockturn Alley from his dirty window.

After taking a quick shower, Lupin finally collapsed onto a small sofa by the fire as he waited for his guest. It still confounded him every time he thought of how they had come to be together, as different as they were, but he cherished it all the same. He didn't know how he could have survived these past six months without her unyielding and unquestioning devotion. When the whole world made him feel too unworthy to clean their shoes, she never expected him to do or say anything more then he wanted to, and he loved her for it.

Lupin's heart jerked up in his throat at the sound of light tapping on the door.

"Lupin? It's me... "

---

Author's Notes: Ending with another mystery. You want to hurt me, I know...

-I'd like to thank my beta, melusin for all the hours she has put into this story.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost, Book i. Line 261.

-Next up: Lavender continues with her odd behavior and is noticed by someone other than Hermione. Dumbledore has another troubling conversation with the portrait in his bedroom chambers, causing him to place a burden on Hermione's shoulders. Sirius has a question he has been dying to ask Hermione. His chance comes when they are both alone... or are they?