The Unfortunates

Okay, now obviously, I must apologize for the hideously disgusting delay.
Don\'t recall whether or not I mentioned it during the last update (don\'t think I did), but FF (fanfiction.net) deleted my account there and caused hell, my Internet connection people decided to fuck things up for me and have left me cut off from the world for the last three weeks, and, well, there you have it... I still don\'t have Internet, in fact, I\'m doing all this from a computer at work. Decided I just had to update this now, obviously! And once again, I\'m so sorry for the delay. In any case, this is slightly longer than usual, to make up for lost, what – time? In any case...:

---


CHAPTER TWELVE: HELLO PROFESSOR, IT’S ME


“It would seem as though, for some reason, we keep running into each other, Mr. Granger,” said Hermione wearily.

They were, once again, up in her room on the top floor. Hermione had seated herself on the bed and felt completely worn out. She wasn’t ready to face Snape yet again; to have to deal with the tons of different emotions and impressions that went through her whenever he came to visit.

It was Snape, for gods’ sake.

“Perhaps,” said Snape silkily, “that is because I keep returning to Lilly Barrette’s.”

“Yes. It might be.”

He took a few steps further into the room after closing the door behind him.

“We met yesterday,” said Hermione bluntly. “You can’t possibly believe I have news for you already?”

“No,” he replied. “That is not why I am here. This time, I have information for you. Whether or not you will appreciate it, though, remains to be seen.”

This comment caught Hermione by surprise, and she studied Snape more intently – well, at least she studied as much of him as she could, him being so well hidden from the world in his disguise. But his body language still spoke, though, and it seemed as though he was reluctant to go near her, although he’d had no problems doing so in the past. He seemed... nervous, if such a word at all could be used on the feared Potions Master, and Hermione found herself slowly beginning to dread the information he would soon lay before her.

She gave him a slightly insincere smile. “Go on, then.”

Snape drew a deep breath and began pacing the room. His movements were so typical of him that Hermione silently beat herself up for not having realized his identity before. How could she possibly have failed to see it?

“I have been thinking about what you told me yesterday,” Snape began. “About what Draco Malfoy offered you. I take it his father has accepted the idea?”

“I doubt Draco would have suggested it if he hadn’t,” replied Hermione wearily.

“Very well then. Here is what I thought, Mira – and please, hear me out on this one before you start arguing – what if you were to move into Malfoy Manor?”

Completely forgetting what he’d said about hearing him out, Hermione quickly jumped to her feet in outrage and was about to throw the suggestion in his face, but only got to open her mouth before he raised a stern hand to quiet her.

“I believe I asked you to hear me out,” he said icily.

“And I believe you haven’t got a say in it after suggesting something as insane as that,” replied Hermione, her hands on her hips.

“Will you not hear me out then?” he snarled. “Fine, Miss Gideon, throw me out of your room and pretend you never met me. I honestly thought you sensible enough to at least hear the entire proposition.”

Hermione sighed and fell back down on the bed. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Talk, then.”

Snape drew a deep breath again and continued:

“I take it by now you know quite well what it is I do with my days. I do realize that Draco Malfoy probably doesn’t trust you anymore, and you say you doubt you could get more information from him – at least in the nearest future. To be quite honest, I am not prepared to let him off the hook that easily.” He stepped closer to her then, his eager about his apparent plan taking him over ever so slightly. “It is obvious he is somewhat addicted to you, Mira, you said so yourself. He would not speak of things to you directly, but think of the opportunities if you were to spend every minute of your day in that house. Overhearing something of use would be inevitable.”

“So...,” Hermione paused, frowning and thoroughly thinking over what he’d just said. Did he mean what she thought he meant?

“So you want me to move into Malfoy Manor and become the male part of that family’s personal sex toy in exchange for you to get the occasional name or two from me? I mean, I am to actually move into Malfoy Manor so you can have your little worthless scraps of information?”

He frowned. “I would hardly call them worthless. In fact, you would be surprised what came out of the last pieces of information I received from you.”

Hermione stood from the bed again, to better face him. “Have you considered me at all in this plan? I mean, me – not the prostitute Mira Gideon, but me? As a person; a living, breathing human being who can only take so much of that disgusting family you’re suggesting I move in with?”

Snape sighed, and withdrew slightly from her. “I realize it would obviously be a great challenge for you. Do not get me wrong, I understand the complications. But I took you for a serious, dedicated young woman, Mira – you always gave me the impression that you would be willing to assist.”

“I am willing to assist,” said Hermione. Then, now knowing that this indeed was Snape and that he was trustworthy, she added, “And I am very dedicated to the Light as well, for that matter! But I can’t help you if I get beaten beyond recognition or go mentally insane. Which is fairly likely to happen, should I move into that place.”

He seemed to be a bit startled by the mention of dedication to the Light; clearly he hadn’t suspected she dared to speak so openly about the issue. After all, the British Wizarding World was under the control of Voldemort now, and to speak of the Light and of resistance so freely wasn’t particularly safe.

But Snape could be trusted, obviously, and now Hermione knew that for sure.

“I would not suggest this to you,” he said, “had I not thought you would be able to handle it.”

Hermione sighed. Of course she wanted to help – more than anything. But the very idea of moving into Malfoy Manor... Oh, it was insane. She would never survive. The knot that tied in her stomach every time either Draco or Lucius Malfoy stepped into her brothel room... Gods, she’d have that every day. Probably for several hours each day, too. How would she be able to bare something like that?

“I... I’d like to say I think I can handle it,” said Hermione slowly, beginning to pace the room and letting her gaze drift. “And in a way, I believe I can. But – but you don’t understand how much I loathe those people. I was more than willing to spy on Malfoy for you, and I’d do a lot more daring things if you asked me, too, but... Moving in with them? I don’t think I can do it. I just...” She hesitated and looked back at him; questions were rushing to her now. “You know Lucius Malfoy. What is the Manor like, then?”

Snape seemed to calm down at that; perhaps he thought she was considering after all.

“It is... big,” he began, taking a seat by her desk and touching his hidden chin with a hand. “Enormous, I should like to say. Filled with house-elves, I suspect, although I have only seen one of them in all the years I spent in that house. And I guess I should mention that the lady of the house is a bit of a handful.”

“Narcissa Malfoy?” asked Hermione before she could stop herself.

“Yes,” said Snape slowly, and Hermione could practically hear the frown.

She sat down on the bed again, slowly; her hands in her lap, and didn’t take her eyes off the floor.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she finally said. Before Snape could reply, she continued, “And it’s not really because I don’t think I can handle the Malfoys. Not really. But... Listen, I’m going to explain something to you, okay?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see him nod, barely.

“Obviously, I have no one. Goes without saying, doesn’t it? Well, I have Mandy, but I so rarely get to see her any more because of the – the class difference,” she practically spat the words out, “and of course Tom at The Cauldron is a good friend, but I rarely see him either... The point is, I haven’t got anyone close. No one I completely trust. Do you understand my dilemma here? I sound vulnerable, and I know it, saying this, but I’m pretty much lost and every decision is a real challenge, because I rarely know for sure which way to turn. If my life was just a little – just a little – more stable, then perhaps I could help you out. But as it is now, I can’t.”

None of them spoke for a long time after this little speech, and Hermione’s mood was pretty gloomy. She felt miserable and as though she was failing, but what she’d said was the honest truth. She felt thankful after all now that he indeed was Snape, because if he hadn’t been she couldn’t have afforded to reveal herself like that to him. But now that she had, it felt both good and bad at the same time and she found herself completely at a loss.

Finally, Snape stood from his chair, and she could feel his gaze rest heavily upon her.

“I understand,” he said, though the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. “You are alone and afraid, and desperate for things to improve. Am I right? Yet here you are, and you haven’t made one move as far as I know to improve the situation yourself. If I am to guess, I would say you’ll be sitting here five years from now complaining about the exact same things. You say you want your life to change, and you say you think you can handle the Malfoys, when all comes down to it.” He paused for effect. “I really don’t see what the problem is, Miss Gideon. Unless, of course, it is simply that that you have trouble identifying yourself as a coward. Because that is, all in all, what you are.”

Hermione looked up from the floor.

Snape was heading for the exit. “Goodbye, Mira.”

“Now wait just a minute,” snarled Hermione, jumping to her feet and causing him to freeze with his hand inches from the door handle. “What sort of a judgement is that to pass on me? Do you think you know me at all? How can you possibly take the liberty to speak to me like that?”

“We are actually still at a war here, Miss Gideon, although some claim otherwise,” snarled Snape back. “I regret to say the improvement of my conversation skills is not on the top of my to-do list at the moment.”

“Well, then, perhaps it should be,” she said bitterly. “You honestly have no idea what you are talking about.”

He took a step closer to her then, fury starting to rage in the eyes that were barely visible, glittering underneath his hood.

“Don’t I?” he said in a dark, dangerous voice. “You believe I don’t know what it feels like to be completely alone and betrayed by everyone, Miss Gideon? Alone, not knowing who to trust or in which direction to take my next step?”

Hermione felt as though struck.

Of course he knew. He probably knew better than anyone. Gods, she could only imagine what he’d experienced back in those days when he’d turned from Voldemort... Oh yes, he did know a lot about how she felt.

“Perhaps you do,” she said quietly, her head lowered slightly. Then, hesitantly, she added, “But then again perhaps you’re a stronger person than I am.”

“I’m guessing I was about your age when I experienced the same thing,” he said icily, “and I made moves to rectify the situation myself. But, as you say, perhaps I am a stronger person than you are.”

Hermione felt her slight guilt turn to anger very quickly. His tone of voice was just so humiliating – not at all like the understanding “Tiberius Granger” as of the earlier days of their acquaintance.

She snorted. “I can’t believe you can talk so degradingly to someone you know so little about.”

“Perhaps I am just not very considerate about people I find I have little interest in knowing more about,” he replied with elegancy.

“You think you’re so much better than everyone,” she said quietly, angrily. “So capable of handling yourself, so independent, so intimidating... I wonder what it would take to just knock you off your high horse.”

“I doubt you shall ever find out,” he replied, rather smugly, she thought.

And that was it. Professor Severus Snape needed to realize a few things – he needed to have a few things thrown straight in his face, in all honesty, and he needed to get some perspective.

“Want to bet on that?” said Hermione and reached for her wand.

Snape had his own out within seconds, but lowered it once he realized she wasn’t about to cast any spell on him, but on herself.

She did so, and within seconds her straight, reddish blond hair started to frizz and darken, whereas her eyes turned from blue to brown. Her lips went slightly thinner, and shortly after the wave of her wand there was no Mira Gideon left, only the old know-it-all of Hogwarts, Hermione Jane Granger.

She stood now, hands on hips and still wearing the make-up and clothing of a prostitute but finally looking herself again, and raised a challenging eyebrow in Snape’s direction.

“See something familiar, Professor?”

The entire experience seemed to be more than Snape could handle. He had grasped the door handle again but did not turn it; it looked as though he’d only grasped it to steady himself. He stood as though immovable, just staring at her, and Hermione could hear his breath had quickened slightly. Clearly he was struggling to control whatever instincts fought to take over.

Finally, words seemed to return to him.

“Miss – Miss Granger,” was all he managed to splutter.

She gave a wry smile. “You appear knocked off your high horse, Sir,” she said with malice.

“How – you – you foolish girl,” he managed to spit out before regaining control of both his mouth and his posture. He straightened his back again and turned into the tall, intimidating form as of old as though transforming.

“You might as well take off your hood,” said Hermione.

He did, although hesitantly, and finally Hermione got visual proof to the very astounding truth she’d realized just days before. It was Professor Snape, and he looked more like himself than he’d ever done before in her opinion. His hair was as greasy as ever, his eyes coal black, his skin sallow and his lips thin with irritation.

“When did you learn it was me?” he demanded.

“When you told me that you and Mr Malfoy used to be friends,” she replied. “And that other man – Gavril, was it? – he called you Professor. I just put two and two together.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Always so skilled, aren’t we?” he snarled. “And yet you certainly took your time to reveal yourself!”

“Forgive me if I wanted to keep my identity a secret for a while longer,” she snarled back, “but the thought of what my Professor of twice my age did to me kind of made me hesitate!”

“I did nothing to you!” he immediately replied.

“No?”

He hesitated in replying and seemed to be thinking her question over. Then, apparently, the experience all those nights back finally returned to his memory and he went very still.

No one spoke for at least two minutes, and the silence was nerve-wrecking.

At last, Snape drew a deep breath.

“I think you ought to come with me,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

“For a few very obvious reasons,” he replied nastily. “Firstly, your dear friend Potter will most likely kill me if he finds out I have let you spend your days in a place like this, and secondly, I suspect you would actually like to see him and the others again at some point, would you not?”

“Harry?” she blurted out. “You know where Harry is?”

“Him and a dozen others. Now come along – unless you would rather stay here of course? By all means, I will not drag you against your will, Miss Granger.”

Gods. It was amazing how a stranger’s attitude towards you could change so dramatically the moment they realized they actually knew you already.

Still, although Hermione couldn’t believe Professor Snape could act so nasty to her after all they’d been through, that wasn’t what really occupied her mind as she quickly gathered together what little she had of things and snuck out with Snape through the girls’ backdoor on their way to what would hopefully be a refuge of safety and friendship.

She would get to see Harry again.

--

In a way, Severus was astounded that his brain was even still functioning properly.

It was Hermione Granger. Hermione know-it-all Granger, one third of the bane of his existence at Hogwarts, the second tagalong of Harry bloody Potter and now also, it would appear, the prostitute he had fingered to an orgasm a mere week ago.

Apparently, fate desperately wanted him insane.

How could he not have recognized her? Now that he knew, he was certain he should have seen the signs... She had looked a bit like Miss Granger, this Mira Gideon, but the thought had never really struck him, obviously... And she had been a bit keen to share her knowledge, that was so, but – but who would ever suspect a dolled up whore at the House of Lilly Barrette’s was actually one’s ex student from back when things had been relatively normal?

She was tagging along after him, almost struggling to keep up, as they made their way hastily through the many dark alleyways of Diagon Alley. Severus wasn’t a spy for nothing; he knew all about how to move around without being seen – even with someone like Miss Granger by his side.

Gods. Hermione Granger. Why did fate hate him so?

He’d almost taken a liking to Mira Gideon. Hell, fuck “almost” – he had taken a liking to her. To her as a person, obviously; he wasn’t emotionally attached. But she had been fascinating, in her own way; exotic – as many whores often were, there was no denying that, and Severus had been caught completely off guard at the revelation of the girl’s real identity.

She was his student. Merlin, how inappropriate. How unbelievably, disgustingly inappropriate. And now, on top of everything he would be stuck with her, because obviously she would move into the Snape home with the other Rebels, and Severus held little doubt that Potter would absolutely refuse to have “Mira” sent to the Malfoys one he learned she was in fact Hermione.

Things were just not supposed to have turned out like this.

Severus and Miss Granger reached the outskirts of Diagon Alley and snuck into a small alleyway which was practically invisible to those who didn’t know it were there. Miss Granger looked thoroughly confused.

“We have to fly from here,” said Severus curtly, grasping the broomstick that stood, Disillusioned, next to a garbage bin. Miss Granger gasped ever so slightly as Severus lifted the charm and the words Firebolt caught her sight by the broom’s handle.

“It’s...” she began.

“Potter’s,” finished Severus, before she could. “Yes, well spotted, Miss Granger. I do not happen to be in possession of a proper broomstick myself, so I have borrowed his. Now, unless you have one of your own in that bag,” he nodded towards her small trunk, “which I doubt, we shall have no choice but to share this one.”

At least the girl didn’t seem to have lost any of her sharp wit during the time spent at Barrette’s – she didn’t question his words and seemed to understand without further explanations why Apparition or several other ways of travel weren’t an option.

The Disillusioned flight to the Rebels’ hideout was a more challenging one than Severus had first suspected. Not counting the fact that he hated to reveal his flying skills (or lack thereof) to Miss Granger, even so it was a horrible ordeal. She was sitting in front of him, her hands clutching the broom right next to his – their skin touched – and her back was so close to his chest he thought that alone would bring them down. Not to mention that his legs were touching hers more times than not.

Yes, she was his student, and the thoughts he fought back whilst flying were without a doubt the most inappropriate ones yet. The thing was, despite her being his student and half his age she was still the woman who’d looked so beautiful under his touch not long ago, and that image was, whether he liked it or not, thoroughly burned into Severus’s memory.

Inappropriate. Just keep thinking the word, Severus – inappropriate.

Besides – what would he want with the know-it-all Granger? He couldn’t stand her, when all came down to it. The fact that he’d seen her come didn’t change things.

They arrived about half an hour later on the remote location that was the outskirts of the Snape property. To Miss Granger, it all looked like an overgrown, abandoned hilltop, but to Severus – who was the location’s Secret-Keeper – it looked exactly like the horrid, old house with its hideous garden that it in fact was.

“Miss Granger,” said Severus as they had both dismounted the broomstick. “Welcome to Killengreen.”

Having said the magic words that would reveal the property to an outsider’s eyes, Severus impatiently waited for Miss Granger to finish gasping and staring at what was his childhood home.

“It’s amazing,” she said, her gaze drifting over the many gothic textures and ways of the old manor. Then her head turned to the garden.

“It’s kind of gloomy,” she commented.

“You don’t say,” said Severus dryly and raised an impatient hand to signal for her to move towards the entrance doors. “I take it you are eager to meet your friends...?”

“Of course,” she said quickly, walking with quick steps up to the doors. Severus followed, and soon they found themselves in the entrance hall of Killengreen: A giant, depressing hall with intimidating paintings on the walls and dark corners from which strange noises or flickers of light, almost like eyes, could be detected. The roof held a giant, dust-covered chandelier in the same, stone grey colour as the rest of the house, and a weary, dark green carpet led the way to the giant staircase vis-à-vis the entrance doors.

“It’s... big,” said Miss Granger.

“That it is,” nodded Severus. He gestured for her to follow him through one of the doors to the staircase’s right.

“It’s almost like your description of Malfoy Manor, Professor,” she said. “If you’ll forgive me for pointing that out.”

“I’ll try,” he replied without emotion as he led her across the floor and into what was the major dining hall (or at least one of them) of the house. There was only two people seated at the grand table; Severus recognized them as the two friends of Miss Chang from Japan. They were looking through some scrolls of parchment.

“Professor Snape,” said the one named Toyo by way of greeting.

Severus nodded curtly back and took a seat at the table. Miss Granger remained, hesitantly, standing.

Both Toyo and Junichi were eyeing her with curiosity.

“Would you please gather Mr Potter and the others,” said Severus wearily. “Tell them that – that Miss Mira Gideon is here.”

That certainly got the two boys going as they undoubtedly recognized the name, and they were out of their seats in no time, parchments flying, as they hurried off from the hall to gather the rest of the Rebels.

Miss Granger slowly sat down two chairs down the table from Severus.

“Why did you say Mira Gideon is here?” she asked slowly.

“Because that would make those boys move considerably faster,” replied Severus. “They barely know the name Hermione Granger, but Mira Gideon is a well-discussed topic around this table.”

Miss Granger did not look at all comforted by that announcement.

“What is this place, anyway?” she asked after a couple of seconds.

“This, Miss Granger, is Killengreen: The refuge of the Rebels, as we like to call ourselves,” replied Severus dryly. He himself did not much care for the name Rebels. “With you there are now twenty-four of us in all – at least that we know for sure.”

“Twenty-four?” she repeated. “Twenty-four in all who are working against – against You-Know-Who?”

“Precisely. Many are from other countries as well; I am afraid there are very few British witches and wizards we know the fate of.”

“How – no; who of these Rebels do I know?”

“Well, there is Potter, obviously. Lupin I am sure you remember, and Miss Tonks...” Severus frowned for a second, thinking it over. “Gavril, whom you have met – he is Bulgarian, though perhaps you remember him as one of the old Durmstrang students – the once Ravenclaw Miss Cho Chang and the French TriWizard contestant, Miss Delacour, is also among us.” Another pause to think. “Ah, and two of the many Weasley children, obviously.”

“Weasley?” Miss Granger nearly jumped out of her seat. “Who?”

“William and Ginevra, I believe Arthur and Molly named them,” replied Severus.

“Bill and Ginny,” said Miss Granger, as though translating, as she sank back down in her chair. Clearly those were not the names she had hoped for. “You haven’t – you haven’t heard anything about anyone else, have you?” she asked, her voice filled with suppressed hope.

“Hardly,” sighed Severus, but he did not get to say any more as he heard voices from outside the hall. Seconds later, people were making their way in, their gaze immediately jumping to the bushy-haired young woman seated at the table, curious as they were to lay their eyes on this mysterious Mira Gideon.

It wasn’t until Nymphadora Tonks entered the room that somebody recognized “Mira” for who she actually was.

“Hermione!” she bellowed at the top of her voice.

Seconds later the rest of the English Rebels had come rushing through the door as well, and seconds after that again no one could get to Miss Granger, because both Potter and Ginny Weasley were hogging up all the space around the once oh so confident Prefect of Hogwarts, hugging and squeezing her within an inch of her life. And she was hugging and squeezing them just as thoroughly in return.


---

A/N: Thanks so much to my forever faithful beta JessiokaFroka. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter; I had fun writing it, in any case. Finally things have been revealed and we can dive further into the plot. I’d like to give a special thanks to Darkmoon3 and khamsin from fanfiction.net, who complimented me on the Snape garden and suggested that I used it further in the story – which I now intend to. Honours to them. :)

As always I must really (!!) thank the reviewers - can\'t say how thrilled I am to hear you\'re enjoying this! It what keeps me going, you know? Keep it coming, I absolutely adore reading all your lovely reviews! And I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)