Spinner’s End

~o0o~

Hermione's drug-induced sleep wore off slowly; awareness came slower. The first thing she noticed was the ease of her of pain, although it was still present. Vague memories filtered to her as she lay there trying to remember. She remembered seeing Professor Snape, falling on her bum in front of him, and seeing him bending over her to pour potions down her throat to heal her, how the look on his face right before she'd passed out was one of concern rather than the usual sneer. She also remembered that he brought before Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and the fear of that memory alone made her finally open her eyes, terrified.

Soft light filtered in around the hangings tied open on the huge four-poster bed. For one brief moment, she thought that she was in her room at Hogwarts before she noticed that the hangings were dark blue rather than red. She also noticed that the bed was much larger, more like the king-size bed in her parents' room. Not only that, but the sheets she lay in were black and silky.

Rolling rather than lifting her head, she took in what she could see of the room. A long wardrobe filled the wall next to her, flanked by a door on either side, and a bedside table held a lamp and several bottles and vials of different sizes and shapes. On either side of the bed, windows were covered in the same drapes as the ones hanging on the bedposts, blocking out almost all of the sunlight, except for a little that passed between the narrow slits down the middle. The bedside table on the other side held several books and a similar lamp. Two bookcases flanked a small Floo, and a heavy chair and ottoman sat near the window. The third wall at the foot of the bed appeared empty, except for a mirror and a painting of a landscape. In the far corner stood a dark, spotted eagle owl sleeping on a heavy branch perch.

The unfamiliar surroundings sent a shiver down her spine, confirming that nothing of what she remembered had been a dream; the strange room and the spasm of pain from the contraction of her abdomen as she moved her head tore away any hope of that. Memories came crashing down on her: the clearing in the forest, the Death Eaters, Voldemort, and waking up in severe pain, and Professor Snape... the anger and surprise when she'd landed at his feet and the gentle way he'd held her head as he gave her his potions when she wasn't resisting him. The ones from the bottles next to me on the bedside table...

She asked herself, how, and she remembered the parchment. Words had formed and she had written an answer back, twice. She had written on the parchment. What did I write? Show me my soul mate... and it transported me... to him... It took me to Professor Snape... and to Voldemort. She felt so ashamed that she had been so gullible. I didn't learn anything at all from Ginny's experience with Tom Riddle's diary! How could I have been so stupid? But he seemed surprised to see me, even angry. It couldn't have been a trap... a coincidence, another Horcrux perhaps – but the writing wasn't Professor Snape's... It looked – gothic.

So, now where am I? It hurt to lift her head; a shearing pain tore at her abdomen when she tried. Her bladder hurt, and she knew that she needed to find the loo. She didn't want to call out; she vaguely remembered that Wormtail was here, somewhere, and she definitely didn't want to see him. Suddenly hit with a bout of nausea, Hermione desperately looked around for the loo and hoped the door on the other side of the wardrobe led to one. She tried to roll to her side and cried out involuntarily in pain, falling back onto the bed. Now what?

A door on the far side of the wardrobe opened and soft footsteps entered the room. Hermione turned her head and was stunned to see her professor dressed in black trousers and white shirt, walking into the room with a tray. "So, you decided to finally wake up?" he said sharply. Hermione simply nodded and winced at the effort. "Wormtail has insisted on preparing you breakfast. I suggest you eat it." He set the tray across her feet and picked up a bottle from the bedside table. "First, your potions."

"Professor?" she asked, her scratchy voice infused with pain.

"No questions, Miss Granger. I will not tolerate your innumerable questions and your persistent compulsion to question everything around you. You will refrain from asking anything. This is my house, so you will be expected to abide by my rules. You are a hostage here, not a guest. You are here because the Dark Lord decrees it – nothing more." He held the potion out to her. "Drink this."

"Please, sir, I need to use the loo," she said, trying to get up and wincing in pain as she did.

He stared down at her, his gaze cold and hard. "Very well," he said, "roll to your side." He reached out to assist her, his hands firm, but extraordinarily gentle, as he helped her to rise from the bed. Hermione was surprised to see a black, silky night-slip covered her body as he helped her to stand. "The loo is the door on this side of the wardrobe," he said simply. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she tried to walk and stumbled, grasping hold of the bed hangings to keep from falling. She heard him swear under his breath.

He swept her into his arms and carried her to the loo. She was stunned to feel just how strong he was, how effortlessly he could carry her. He set her on her feet, holding her as he waited for her to pull her night-slip to expose her bottom and set her down to sit on the seat, then backed away and stood there watching her, his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, get on with it," he sneered at her.

I can't do this in front of him! "Will you at least look away?" she asked, straining to hold her urine, not wanting to release in front of him.

He looked down at her, his expression cross. "Ever since you landed at my feet, you have become my responsibility, Miss Granger. Are you capable of sitting there without falling off?"

"Yes, I..." Hermione started to say and felt the urine begin to trickle of its own accord, eliciting a smile from him. She closed her eyes and turned her head to cover her humiliation, and he merely laughed at her. Her head snapped up to admonish him for laughing, and she was surprised to find the loo empty, although she could hear him move about the bedroom through the open door. Hermione could no longer hold back her urine, and it poured from her, and she cringed, hoping that the sound did not carry far. Gingerly and as modestly as she could, she wiped herself. When she was done, Hermione eased her way back to the bedroom, leaning on the counter of the sink as she edged to the door. Snape stepped over to her as soon as she appeared in the doorway. Without a word, he carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her back to his bed.

After considering her phrasing, Hermione finally said, "Sir, I don't know why I am here."

"Don't you? It has become my job to keep you alive for the Dark Lord's purposes, thus you are my unfortunate responsibility," he explained as he looked down at her with disinterest. He added several pillows behind her so that she could sit up. "You cannot leave this bedroom without me, Miss Granger, and I suggest you do not try. The wards on the room will prevent you from doing so, and if you should try, you will feel pain equal to that of the Cruciatus Curse, and you will be thrown back into the room; the same goes for my potions lab and the doors that exit my house."

"Is this – I mean, this is your room," she said, trying to make it sound like a statement.

"Yes," he sneered, "my bedroom, my loo."

Hermione looked around again, and suddenly she realized that it was the only bed in the room. "Sir, there is only one bed."

"Very good, Miss Granger, you can count," he sneered.

"Where did you, um – where are you," she uttered, lowering her head to avoid his hard stare. "I mean, are you sleeping... in – um."

"I sleep in my bed, Miss Granger." He turned from her as her eyes snapped to him. When he turned back, he was pouring a potion into a vial and then handed it to her. "Drink this."

"You mean... I am to sleep with you?" she gasped.

"Did I not tell you that I would not tolerate questions?" he snarled, anger flashing in his eyes. "Learn to refrain from asking them, or you will test my patience beyond its endurance." She took the offered potion and drank the contents, still staring at his eyes. His face held no expression except one that she knew well from school. He exchanged the bottle for another from the bedside table, measuring out her dose into the vial, holding it out to her. "It's a big bed, Miss Granger. You hardly take up that much room," he said dismissively.

Hermione drank the potions in silence, suddenly unnerved by his harsh reaction. To think that parchment sent me to him – my soul mate, indeed. Foul-tempered, malicious, churlish, heartless, tyrannical, insulting... and he calls me insufferable! Ha!

The corners Snape's mouth curled up slightly almost into an expression that resembled humor, if his eyes hadn't remained so cold. "So, I finally managed to silence your insufferable questions? How enlightening."

Still, he is in the Order and Dumbledore always said he was on our side... she thought. "Sir, I need to contact my friends..."

Snape raised his finger and pointed it at her, effectively cutting her off, the hint of a smile was now gone. "That is impossible." He regarded her coolly. "Now, I have a few questions for you, and you will answer me. If you do not, I will probe your mind until I find the answers," he said, his voice low and silky. "I'm sure Potter has told you that I'm quite skilled at Legilimency?"

"Yes, he mentioned that," she replied. She looked down at her hands, trying to avoid his eyes. No eye contact – no intrusion... according to the books I've read, you need to have eye contact...

"How did you find me? How is it that you were suddenly present where I'd been summoned?" he asked.

"I had no idea where I was," she replied. "I'm not sure myself..." Despite her resolve, after spending six years as his student, she just couldn't avoid his eyes when he asked a direct question. His eyes narrowed, and she made a sharp intake of breath at his intense stare, and dropped her gaze to her hands again. "I was... well... there's this piece of vellum parchment, animal vellum I think, that I purchased at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes..."

"Go on," he said, his voice eerily calm as his eyes intently scrutinized her. When she hesitated to continue, the look in his eyes became angry. "That did not answer my question."

Hermione fidgeted with her thumbs in her lap. "The parchment... words appeared. I thought it was a joke item... So I answered them." Her voice cracked. Just like Ginny did in Riddle's diary... surely Dumbledore told him about it... How could I be so stupid? She didn't want to answer these questions, not now.

"That still does not answer my question," he snarled impatiently. "I recall quite well that you are fully capable of answering a question."

She hesitated. "It said I could ask a question or make a wish... so I did. Only, instead of more words appearing as before... I was transported to – to you."

"And what, pray tell, did you wish for?" he asked, his eyes narrowing, glaring suspiciously into hers.

She tried to lower her head to avoid his intense stare, and he reached out swiftly, firmly holding her chin in his grip. She tried ineffectually to block what she knew would happen next. The room around her swirled and changed; her vision focused on the shelves at Flourish and Blotts, and then among the hats and cloaks in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, before the images of Ron and Harry fighting with trick wands came into focus. She tried to shut her mind to his, but it only elicited a cold laugh from him as she tried to push him out of her mind, and the memory of her first time riding a bicycle and nearly falling over as she tried to miss a tree flashed briefly. Then the image in her mind became the memory of Ron kissing her; which Hermione managed to change to a memory of sitting in Ron's room, talking to her friends. With a slight discomfort in her mind, the memory changed again under Snape's will. The parchment came into view as she remembered talking to George at the counter of his shop, showing him the parchment before adding it to her pile as they divided the joke and defense items into three piles. She could feel Snape directing the link as he searched for another image of the parchment, and the image swirled again, becoming the library at Grimmauld Place and the piece of parchment in her hand.

The image of the paper held firm as the lines appeared. Make a wish, ask a question – I'll show your fate, I'll tell you no lies. The image in her mind turned the parchment over, examining it, and then laid it back down, watching the pearly black ink appear and scroll into the words; Tell me your deepest desire. Three times I will comply – if brave you be, to face what you'll see. Her memory self laughed, then wrote, Who is my heart's desire? I wish to see my soul mate. The room swirled dizzyingly, and Hermione tried to fight the image of falling at his feet, and it faded, but not before she felt the pressure of his contact slide from her mind.

He rose, his body stiff and his expression hard and disconcerting. "Your heart's desire? Really? Do you intend to make me believe you desire me, Miss Granger?" He stared at her scornfully.

She knew what he saw when he looked into her mind; he had to know that she was incapable of lying about what happened. His hard stare unnerved her. She felt dizzy and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

He turned and walked away from her, stopping at the door. "Eat your breakfast," he snarled venomously.

It was hours before he returned. He simply set another tray over her knees, removed the breakfast tray and left. What little she could eat of the sandwich and soup eased her hunger, and she drank the potions set in a row by the edge of the tray. When she awoke, the room was dark. She wasn't alone.

He stood by the wardrobe, peeling off his shirt and trousers. Hermione tried to stifle the gasp that escaped her lips and saw his back stiffen, although he did not turn around. His shoulders and back showed lean muscle that rippled with his movements, lean hips and long, well-muscled legs. Runner's legs, Mum would have called them. Although he has a slight build, he is definitely well toned, she thought appreciatively, and as he turned slightly, she saw that his stomach rippled in what her mum called a six-pack. However, it was his penis that held her gaze, for the few brief seconds she saw it, hanging flaccid between his thighs. Even flaccid, it was large, and that frightened her. He pulled out a pair of black pajama bottoms and slipped into them.

Hermione closed her eyes as he walked over to the bed and sat down next to her. "Drink this," he demanded harshly. She opened her eyes to see a flask thrust in her face. Wordlessly she accepted the potion. She drank each one of her potions, accepting each one silently as he handed them to her. A light-headedness overcame her almost immediately after the last one. He watched her a moment, then walked to the other side of the bed and eased in. Within heartbeats, Hermione was sound asleep.

It was some time later, through the potion-induced fog that Hermione began to dream. Long, unnaturally long, fingers stroked her face, red eyes boring into hers. "Silence, you stupid girl, or I will kill you myself," Professor Snape snarled. A head with translucent skin so thin she could practically see the skull it covered. A wide mirthless mouth stretched into a smile, red eyes with black slits, and a flat nose that leaned in to her... "You may do with her as you want, but just be sure to keep her alive," the eerie voice said. "I will have my time with her," Professor Snape sneered. A huge snake wound around her ankles... A hand lifted her cloak from her shoulders as she stood there, unmoving, and a ring of skulls looked at her, mouths smiling in lustful sneers...

"Miss Granger," a deep, silky voice broke through the images. She felt a hand caress her forehead, pushing her hair back and lay on her forehead a moment and the images of her dream changed.

Professor Snape standing next to her... I trusted him... I will obey him, I trust him... Red eyes intently scrutinizing her... Lifted and held against a fallen tree... Long, slightly calloused fingers delicately wiped blood and mud from her body with soft caresses... Cold water... Wrapped in a cloak and lifted off her feet... White hands with long, thin fingers like spiders reached out and touched her face... Who is my heart's desire? I wish to see my soul mate, written by her hand on a parchment... Professor Snape's eyes showing concern as he looked at her, rather than his usual sneer... Pain, intense pain... the stinging of cuts, cold compresses, stinging salves... sharp pains as lacerations and bones mended... Black eyes in a white face...

"Blast it, girl," Snape snarled, waking her from her dream, and she felt him move away. The lamp on her bedside table flared to life, and he sat next to her holding a flask to her lips, his other hand supporting her head. "Drink."

Hermione opened her eyes as he tipped a potion vial to her lips, and she swallowed the potion before it choked her. Snape laid her head gently back onto the pillow and brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face, his touch almost a caress. His dark eyes showed a slight glimmer of concern before he turned to place the potion on her bedside table. He rose, and she assumed he was leaving her. A heavy headiness began to swirl in her consciousness. "I'm sorry about all this. I really should just go. I don't want to be a burden...."

~o0o~

Severus stopped and turned as she spoke. "You, unfortunately, are to remain here... And yes, you are a burden." He didn't move, but stayed at the bedside looking at her, contemplating the images he'd seen in her mind, his face stern. How was it possible that she remembered so much? I carefully Obliviated as much of the abuse and rape that I could for her, so she wouldn't have to remember any of it, and suppressed the rest of the events at the gathering. She should only remember up to when the Dark Lord pulled me aside to discuss what should be done with her.

Hermione stirred again, emitting soft moans.

And the memories of my administrations to her wounds – how had she remembered that? He watched as the sleeping and calming draughts he'd added to the healing potions took their effect. Her mind is stronger than I'd given her credit – obviously. If he was honest with himself, this girl impressed him on occasion. Nevertheless, he wouldn't allow himself to admit that she was pretty – to him; intelligent, resourceful and clever, proficient, driven by both the pursuit of knowledge and to excel in everything she did – like I was at her age. But soul mates? Ridiculous.

To entertain any notions toward the girl is preposterous! She was my student! Still would be if I had remained at Hogwarts. Doesn't matter, the Dark Lord considers her to be his hostage now... placed in my charge. He will use her against Potter, and I am to keep her alive. She's to be either forced to join the Dark Lord, to do his bidding or to be used as a sacrifice. Either way, she'll die.

He recalled his instructions when he'd put her under the Imperius Curse: Think only obedience, loyalty, and devotion. Yet, I read clearly in her mind, "I will do whatever he says I should, be utterly obedient to him, trust him explicitly, be loyal to him, devoted to him, and love him... Where had trust and love come from? She shouldn't have added that – unless, no... She felt them for me – or thinks she does. He walked slowly to his side of the huge bed.

And that parchment, it brought her to me. Magical trans-relocation is extremely difficult to do. This parchment acted like a Portkey, but it didn't travel with her – it sent her. No object can do that... but this one did, he completed as he slid back into bed. He rolled over and leaned on his elbow to look at her. 'Who is my heart's desire? I want to see my soul mate,' she wrote – not show me or tell me – see. He fumed at the implications it could mean and knew the consequences. She has no idea what she has done – damn it.

Severus recalled his last summons to the Dark Lord as Hermione had slept under the influence of his potions. The Dark Lord wanted to know how I captured her, and I couldn't lie – he saw what he wanted to know even before I could conceive of some plausible story. He knows – they know – nine of them. The fragments Severus had allowed the Dark Lord was enough, yet he could not conceal the magical plight her actions and the parchment implied. Bellatrix had howled in hysterical laughter. Lucius was delighted, Narcissa even more so.

His gaze fell again on the sleeping girl beside him. But does she think she loves me? That's absurd, completely ludicrous! Still, this isn't some delusional schoolgirl infatuation written in the margins of a schoolbook. It is a magical artifact that's now connected us... one either planted for her to find or found by accident. If the parchment was what he expected it was... and if it was in fact real, the parchment itself confused him. The situation it created infuriated him.

The Dark Lord had granted Narcissa's offer to supply Hermione with suitable clothes. Hermione's Muggle jeans and sweater had been shredded and the robe torn. The robe now hung in his wardrobe, although it was unwearable. These ridiculous flimsy lingerie that the woman provided... What is the woman thinking? That they would entice me to use the girl? Damn, Narcissa, what in Hades is she playing at? There is no way Hermione made a Plight or a Betrothal Charm – she is already engaged – or plighted to the Weasley boy. It's understood.

The parchment he saw in Hermione's mind would have required a series of spells, including both Dark Charms and Dark Enchantments. Much too complicated for merely a joke item, and she is correct, it looked like true animal vellum – very expensive. Not the usual adolescent writing parchment. If she found it in the Weasleys' shop, I doubt that they would have – could have produced it. Even the stationary shops only provide animal vellum upon request due to its expense. He remembered her admission also: trust him explicitly... and love him... Love me? Really, he mentally snorted. But still she had said it – repeatedly.

He rose, and taking a small sheet of parchment and quill from a box on his bookshelf, he wrote a simple statement in carefully printed letters.

She is fine. She is recovering. She must stay here for now, but I assure you, I will protect her.

Moving from Kent. T. McCullock and H. Farag in danger. Someone in the Ministry is targeted.

He placed a Vanishing Charm and a delayed Inflamaris on the parchment so that, once read, it would immediately fade and burn. Gently, he stroked the feathers of his owl before giving him the note. "You know where to take this," he said with a hint of affection in his voice, carrying the bird to the window. "Go."

~o0o~

The next morning as Hermione rolled from the bed, she noticed two things. First, the pain was much less than the day before and she could roll out of bed, gingerly. And secondly, the night-slip she wore was midnight blue, not black. So were the sheets. She walked into the loo and relieved herself. She felt slightly dizzy when she moved too quickly. Still feeling groggy from the potions, I suppose. She looked around, examining her surroundings more carefully and noticed that the loo was surprisingly Muggle compared to the loos she associated with wizard homes. The shower had three showerheads, one a handheld type, and the tub, which stood separate, was a large, deep, claw-footed kind. It had water jet spouts and a handheld showerhead that rested above the faucet, which had four, not two, handle-shaped knobs. Well, that's definitely a wizard faucet. Two of them probably pour out bubble bath.

Above the tub, a shelf unit held thick, burgundy terrycloth towels and several baskets, two holding various containers and jars. Matching burgundy towels hung on a rod on the wall. A large mirror hung over a vanity directly across from the mirror above the sink counter. She tentatively made her way to the tub, testing each handle, finding that two produced thick, foamy water and filled the tub.

Removing the silky night-slip, Hermione examined her face and her body in the mirrors, fingering the bruises that were healing on her flesh and noticing several thin lines of what remained of cuts and wounds she didn't remember receiving. Pain, from both magical and physical injuries... I remember the pain... but not how I was hurt... She shook her head, wondering why she didn't remember, but was stunned to realize that she'd been so brutalized. I remember gentle touches... of soft fingers... The stinging when the cuts were cleaned, cool soothing compresses, salves... sharp pains when the lacerations and bones were mended... I remember dark eyes looking down at me with concern... Snape? He healed me? Or did he get a Healer for me?

She eased herself into the hot, frothy water, realizing that the tub was engorged inside to be large enough for two. She closed her eyes as she soaked, the hot water easing away her residual aches. The thick foam of the bubble bath tickled her nose, and the rich lavender and woodsy scents were relaxing. Images of lying here came to her, confused images or feelings of lounging in the hot water, leaning against a firm chest, long legs and arms wrapped protectively around her, gentle hands wiping her body, stroking her skin... a warm breath caressing her ear... lips on her temple in a soft kiss...

"That, I can assure you, never happened, Miss Granger."

She sat up instantly, and the soap bubbles slowly slid down from her shoulders, unnoticed. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, smirking at her. She hadn't heard him come in, nor did she recognize the signs of his intrusion into her thoughts, but the unmistakable release of his intrusion was there, and it momentarily unbalanced her. How could he know... How did he know what I was thinking without looking into my eyes? Still, she did sense the release she now recognized as when the Legilimency contact was terminated. But that's not possible! "I – I thought I - I'd j-just take a bath," she stammered.

His lips curled even further, giving his face a mask-like appearance of wicked humor. "I can see that," he said in response to her statement.

Still he looks as if he knows – actually knows what I was thinking. She delved back under the thick, frothy soap to cover her nakedness from his stare. He walked in reaching into the shelves and pulled out a bottle, handing it to her. "What's that?" she asked.

Snape's lip curled up slightly into an expression that almost resembled a smile, but his black eyes remained unemotional. "That's eight questions you've asked me, Miss Granger, since you've arrived here. Are you truly incapable of refraining yourself?" When she didn't answer, he continued. "It's shampoo. Despite your friends' and school mates' impressions, I do, on occasion, wash my hair." His voice was hard, but almost humorous except for the indifference in his expression. He backed up and leaned against the sink near the door. "Anything else you would like? What items do you require? List them."

"Sir, if I could just go to Grimmauld Place, I could..." she suggested hopefully and paused as his eyes narrowed in warning.

"As I have said, that is not an option," he snarled impatiently. "You will tell me what items you need, and I shall get what you require. Now list them."

"I would like a brush – vented, not bristled," she replied timidly. He nodded. "And a tooth brush, toothpaste... dental floss..." He nodded again as his lips twitched upward. "Body lotion, shampoo, conditioner, and cream rinse..." He smirked, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes, but he nodded again. "Shaving gel... a razor..." His eyebrow rose slightly, but he made no other indication of acknowledgment. "Clothes, knickers..." He shook his head. "A robe, then... shoes?"

He shook his head again. "You have nowhere to go. If and only when I am required to take you with me, you will be provided with clothes. You will wear what has been supplied for you. Wash your hair. I do not have all day." His expression was unwavering, but at least he wasn't staring at her as she began to wash her hair. The lather and scent was of spicy florals.

"I am going to need – um, feminine products," she added as she worked the lather through her tresses.

He glared at her impatiently. "That is what I asked you to list out for me."

"Men – is... I will need Kotex," she stammered uncomfortably.

"You will use the pad-cup and strap," he said firmly. "Anything else?"

"I don't know how to..." His eyebrow rose at her statement. "I have never... I use Kotex."

"Not this month, it would be unadvisable," he said in silky drawl. "You still need to recover." Her mind reeled. She remembered pains and aches from her groin, but little else. He smiled wickedly at her confusion. "I removed those memories for you. I didn't think you'd want to remember."

"So docile, so willing, so compliant... What is she usually like, Severus? Walk with me," the high-pitched voice said in her mind. Voldemort! The Death Eaters, looking at her... then, "Stay where you are. Do not move – do not speak," Professor Snape told her before... She tried to focus. What happened next... Did they? She was raped, the pain in her body told her that. A ring of half-skull masks looked at her, mouths smiling in lustful sneers... lifted and held against a fallen tree... long fingers delicately wiped blood and mud from her... Pain... She vaguely remembered some administrations to her wounds. Drinking potions and lying in bed, in pain.

"I left enough so that you would know. I knew that you would know it happened by the pain, and I thought – you didn't need to remember." He drew his wand and a towel flew from the shelves into his hands.

You will not remember any of this. I promise you. She remembered his voice in her head. She wasn't aware that she'd said it out loud.

"Yes." He stared at her intently. "Do you need assistance, Miss Granger?" She hesitated, and he became visibly agitated. "I do not have all day. I have things I need to do, and I will not leave you here all day to scavenge through my possessions."

"I am going to be, um, you want me... I will assist you with your potions," she stammered, trying to rephrase her words into a statement.

"That is nine," he snarled. "Are you completely incapable of refraining from asking questions?"

Apparently, "No," she mumbled. "I use cream rinse on my hair, or I won't be able to brush it out."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You will have to forgo that for today," he said. "Now rinse or I will haul you out of there as you are."

She picked up the handheld shower wand, turned on the taps. "Rinse and dry off. If you need me, I'll be in the bedroom," he said over his shoulder as he turned back to the bedroom.

She pulled the plug in the tub, rinsed, and dried off as quickly as she could, then followed him into the bedroom. A long, black night-slip lay on the bed with a matching dressing gown. "Narcissa thought them – appropriate. It's what she has provided for you. Put them on." He stood in the middle of the space between the bed and wardrobe, watching her intently, his arms crossed and scowling. He waited only a few seconds before he turned and strode back into the bathroom, reaching out and pulling the towel from her as he passed. Hermione quickly pulled on the night-slip and dressing gown, securing the tie. "The boots by the bed, put them on," he instructed when he returned, pointing at a pair of soft leather boots, almost hidden by the bed hangings. She slipped them on and stood. "Follow me."

At the doorway, he grabbed hold of her arm, pushing her forward. Thousands of tiny prickles tingled across every inch of her skin and abated. "That is nothing to what you would feel if you pass without me. Each prick would feel like a stabbing thrust, and you would have been thrown back into the room immediately. The stabbing sensations last an hour. It keeps Wormtail out of my room quite effectively, I assure you."

Hermione noticed that there were two other closed doors and a bathroom in the hall before he led her down the stairs. "Both bedrooms are occupied," he replied off-handedly. "I doubt you would prefer to sleep with either of the occupants."

"Wormtail and..." she said softly, both curious and fearful as to who else shared this house.

"Yes," he said with a wicked grin. "He, apparently, would love to have you in his bed." She preceded him down the stairs, past a door, then followed him down a short hallway, past a dining room and stopped where the hallway turned. Snape opened up a door, turning to allow her to enter, clamping a hand on her shoulder, nearly shoving her down the first two steps. The same prickly sensations assaulted her skin, and she knew he had the same wards on this entryway that he did on his bedroom. Her entire body shook for several seconds as she descended the last two steps inside a large potions lab where Draco Malfoy stood, apparently brewing two potions. "I believe you know my apprentice."

"Malfoy?" she asked in stunned disbelief.

"Yes," Snape replied, a curt edge to his voice.

"What is she doing here?" Draco asked, turning from his cauldrons.

"Mind your potions. This is not a good phase to be distracted," Snape admonished him. "She is here because the Dark Lord saw fit to dump her on me, just as he did you. However, unlike you, she is a hostage." Hermione bristled at his comment. Draco's jaw clenched, but he made no comments, staring at her with unveiled contempt. "She will have strict guidelines and restrictions. And if for any reason I leave her in your attendance, I expect you to adhere to those restrictions and do exactly as I tell you to. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said, turning back to his potions.

Hermione tried to see what he was brewing, and Snape stepped between them, blocking her view. Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he conjured a large, plush armchair, which he set against the wall behind her between a large desk and the door. "Sit and be quiet. I have work to do, and I do not want you pestering me." Placing his hand on her shoulder, he pushed her down into the chair.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, and he placed a finger firmly against her lips. "That makes eleven, Miss Granger. Do not think I am above punishing you."

She stared at him furiously in disbelief. He leaned down, placing both hands on the armrests of her chair, his almost leveling his eyes to her own. "Rule one: no questions. Rule two: no wand. Rule three: you will do what I tell you, without question, without comment. You will obey me. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco snickered from across the room. "Yes, sir," Hermione said, furious and embarrassed, tears welled in her eyes and her hands clenched into fists.

"Fine." He strode across the room to stand next to Draco. Soul mate, indeed... as if I would ever... with him! He stood, watching Draco work, making quiet comments, the rich silky tone of his voice barely audible over a constant trickle of water. She turned her head to take in the room.

Her body still ached in places, and she shifted, trying to ease the discomfort only to have other pains increase. Finally, she found a position that caused the least amount of discomfort. How could anything consider him as my heart's desire! As my professor I respected him, even admired him, and trusted him... but love? Yeah, right. When Minerva allows Hagrid to have a dragon for a pet! He hates me. What magic in that parchment made it decide to dump me in front of him – that I could be attracted to him! It had to be a trick – a trap. But it was simply on the floor in Fred and George's shop... and no one but the five of us knew we were going... So if it was a trap – it wasn't meant for me at all... Unless it was, and some spell made it fall at my feet... Oh get a grip, Granger! You're just speculating. Calming herself, she examined the room.

A large L-shaped worktable was set close to the wall in front of her and a large desk stood on her right. A sink and cleaning counter was placed on the wall to her left, the shelves below full of various bowls and utensils. A spigot jutted from the wall next to the sink, providing a thin, steady stream of running water that fell into a stone basin. There were shelves behind her and above each work area, full of ingredients, specimens, books and utensils. The room was expertly laid out. His private potions lab, I wonder what he brews here?

She tried reading the titles of the books, many of the books were old, but there were journals and new books mixed in as well. Many of them intrigued her, and she was certain that many of the books were books on Dark Arts potions. She refrained from taking any, unsure how Snape would react. After a while, she fell asleep in her chair, listening to the sound of the water and the rich, silky voice of Professor Snape.

"Granger."

She jumped at his bark, waking with a start and almost responded with an automatic, Yes, sir? but caught herself in time. Instead she simply looked up to see his face glaring down at her. He was holding out a vial to her.

"Drink this," Snape snapped at her. "It's time for lunch, and you missed breakfast because of your bath." There were more vials in his other hand. A small table had been placed next to her chair with a tray holding a sandwich and a glass of water. "I am not going to stand here all afternoon – take this. Oh, for Merlin's sake, girl, I am not going to waste any of my poisons on you," he snarled angrily. "If I had wanted to poison you, I would have been done with it and disposed of you already."

Draco sat at the desk, smirking at her, eating a thick, beef sandwich. "I could just put the Imperius on you and make you drink the potions that way." Hermione took the vial and drank the sour potion, and he handed her the next one, followed by the third. "Fine, now eat." He strode over to the desk and sat down with Draco.

A bell went off and Draco rose, added an ingredient to his potion and stirred the contents three times. "Sir, it is pink now," he said without turning.

"Fine, let it sit and finish the other half." He looked up at Hermione as she ate her sandwich. His eyes were unwavering and inscrutable, and she found her gaze flicking to meet his several times as she ate. Finally, he rose and towered over her. He leaned close to her as he reached over her head to retrieve a book from an upper shelf, his groin level with her nose. A soft, subtle, woodsy, earthy scent assaulted her sense of smell, and she tried to advert her eyes, her face suddenly very hot, and caught Draco's eyes as he watched her discomfort.

She looked away and saw Snape standing before her, holding a thick book. "At least I can give you something constructive to do," he said sarcastically. "This will keep you effectively occupied, I believe."

The book, written by Dilys Derwent, read like a dissertation of the old theories related to a comprehensive analysis of basic potions ingredients and their interactions to each other and their reactive properties, both innate and that which they formed when mixed together. It was advanced N.E.W.T. level reading. She knew that Dilys Derwent was a famous Healer in her day, and she was one of the most highly respected Headmistresses of Hogwarts.

The book was fascinating. Several times she'd wished that she had quill and parchment to make notes or to outline the book but had to settle for reading several passages repeatedly to commit them to memory. She was cross-referencing a use of hellebore with climbing mertensia to that of digitalis when she noticed Snape standing by her chair, leering down at her.

"It is time for dinner, Miss Granger. Put the book down."

Author's notes: