Playing Doctor

A-N: I have borrowed certain things from the sixth book, but not everything is the same, so I guess you could consider this AU, but with HBP spoilers.

Beware: Dark, dark, dark!! Turn back NOW if you are not comfortable reading violence, non-consensual sex, death, err…. This chapter is definitely worse than the first one, so if you thought that one was bad, just run away and hide while you still can! I’m afraid I did have to add a bit of plot, which was never my original intention, but this story kind of took on a life of its own.

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“So, are you ready to play, Granger?”

“If I said no would it make a difference?” Hermione replied, in a voice that seemed far, far away. The only thing keeping her sane for the time being while she was in such a compromising position, was the thought that he would never get what he wanted. She would never give in to him, and the idea that she did in fact hold some control over what was happening to her, was keeping her from losing it completely. Maybe it was stupid of her to take the oath, since by doing so ensued that Malfoy would never get his comeuppance legally, but when faced with the other option of being obliviated… well, that was just not an option. She was never one to take the easy way out, she had too much pride for that.

Now, to deal with Malfoy and holding her virginity over his head…

“No, I suppose it really wouldn’t. Need I remind you though, that part of the deal was for you to give in to the pleasure I will bring you?” he asked calmly, continuing to pet her mons with a feather-light touch. He knew from experience that this move would eventually turn her in to putty in his hands, as it had done with the countless other witches he’d bedded throughout the years. That Granger had even held out thus far was pretty impressive, he had to admit, though the challenge was what made this whole thing worthwhile.

“Fine, then pleasure me, Malfoy,” she said scathingly. “Make me see stars you pathetic, contemptible rodent. Take me to the heavens and beyond like all your whores. Then I hope you can go to bed feeling like a man, knowing that you raped a wandless mudblood, whom you had to tie down to get anywhere near. Real manly, Malfoy. You really know how to live up to your pureblood status, don’t you?” When she had finished her eyes were shooting daggers at him, and he almost seemed to concede at her words- almost, but not quite.

“Ouch, the little muddy has a dirty mouth. Do you think you could still talk like that if it was full of dick? Want to try?” he mocked her.

“I’ll bite you… you know I will. Or have your inbred genes left out the parts of your brain used for common sense and morality?”

“I think the latter is obvious, but only because I’m strong enough to take what I want, and not stupid enough to let silly morals stop me.”

“Now you’re admitting that you want a mudblood? So you’re a coward, you’re completely pathetic, and a hypocrite to boot. And on top of it all, you’re still probably wondering why I haven’t asked you to fuck my brains out yet… If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d almost feel sorry for you.”

Now she had done it… it was about time, too!

“NEVER pity me,” he shouted, his cheeks flushing pink with anger. “How dare you even consider for a moment that you are on such a level to feel bad for someone like me. Isn’t the current situation enough proof of your rightful place beneath me? Down in the dirt with the other muddies and squibs and house elves and vermin!”

Just then, he reached out and roughly pinched her clit, making her cry out at the sudden overdose of stimulation. Her legs jerked and she felt a horrible tightening in her stomach, causing her eyes to automatically well up with tears. When he finally released her, perspiration had formed on her brow and her breath was coming out in sporadic spurts, while he only wore a satisfied smirk, his eyes alight with malice.

“Still feel superior, you little muddy whore?” he purred in her ear. She eyed him defiantly until his smirk turned to a look of distaste, and he backed away to the cupboards along the wall. She was relieved to have him away from her, so she could compose herself and make a plan for escape. However, before her brain even had a chance to process that Draco Malfoy had her spread apart, tied down and at his mercy, he was back, with a look on his face that made her mouth go dry.

“I think I’m going to examine every part of your insides to show you exactly what makes you a mudblood.”

“Would you just listen to yourself!? You’re acting completely mental! Just let me go, I can’t tell anyone!” she cried, her anger still managing to shine through, even with her tears. He still seemed not to hear her, although she was screaming directly into his ear. His expression never wavered, and it frightened Hermione more than she would admit, even to herself.

“Open up, Granger,” he said in a low, husky voice as he pushed her legs open uncomfortably wide. He then used his wand to move the stirrups farther apart, effectively ridding her of her only defense. Now she couldn’t even clamp her thighs together.

He stood between her legs, a look of carnal hunger blazing in his darkened eyes. With one hand he spread her lips open, and with the other he traced a single finger up and down the softly glistening flesh. She shivered and stared at the opposite wall. There was a cobweb hanging along the corner… that wasn’t very sanitary…

A cold intrusion stirred her from her thoughts. She could hear the soft clanking of metal on metal but didn’t dare look down. She frantically searched the wall for something to concentrate on.

An empty frame… hanging crooked by one corner… It looked like it could fall at any minute…

A sudden jolt broke her focus. She cried out and bit her lower lip, closing her eyes shut tight. A single tear slid out of the crinkled corner. He had pulled the skin around her clit, exposing it to the cool air completely. It felt dry and sent a dull ache into her gut. That she could ignore, but that was not the only thing he was doing. He had then repetitively pressed the cold metal hard against her exposed and raw clit. Each time was like salt on a wound, it stung and burned, but at the same time it was creating a warmth from within.

The frame had gold inlaying… it really was quite pretty… it was- it was-

She cried out again, no longer able to ignore the sick, pleasurable pain.

“That’s it Granger,” he said slowly and silkily. He dipped a finger into her shallow entrance, removing the hot liquid she was secreting. He brought his wet fingers to his lips, moaning to himself as he sucked them clean. The cold metal contraption fell to the floor with a clang. Somewhat relieved, she chanced a glance down at him, he was lazily licking his finger, a look of satisfaction when he finished. He smirked when he caught her gaze and she quickly turned her head, sucking in a breath as she felt him blow on her red and swollen nub. It was all she could do not to cry out again. He returned his hand to her core and swirled the juices around until he had every part of her wet and glistening except her clit, which was now throbbing for attention.

“Please…” she breathed out. He was slowly turning her body against her, and she hated him for it- hated her body for responding to him. Her toes curled as he continued to torture her. She squirmed and fought to keep her hips still, though they were beginning to gently buck towards him.

“Please what, Granger? Tell me what you want,” he spoke huskily. She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. She couldn’t let herself give in to him.

“I can make you feel things you can’t even imagine. This can be fun for both of us… or it can be fun for me… the choice is up to you.”

The frame.. the gold… crooked…

“NO!” she cried out suddenly.

“Suite yourself…” he shrugged. Just then she felt him at her back entrance, rubbing the veined underside of his rock hard member against her puckered hole, lubricating it with the juices that were flowing from the intense stimulation to her clit.

“What- what do you think you’re doing!?” she squealed, the fear in her voice clearly evident.

“I promised I wouldn’t take your cherry, I never said anything about fucking you in the ass.”

“But… but…”

“But nothing. I gave you the option and you refused my generous offer. Pity too, there’s no way you’ll get any pleasure out of this… only pain…”

“No… no please don’t,” she begged him. “Please stop.”

He was now stationed at her back entrance, rocking his hips back and forth, pushing harder and harder each time.

“I can’t stop Granger.. it’s too late… you make me so fucking hard,” he groaned.

“Please… I’ll- I’ll do anything!”

His hip motions ceased and he leaned down so he was right against her bare chest, staring dangerously into her wide, scared eyes.

“Will you suck my cock like a good little mudblood whore?” he purred, jerking his hips roughly into her backside, stretching her but not quite gaining entrance.

“Yes… yes I will… anything…”

“Good. Impervius!” he said, pointing his wand at his ever hardening length. “Now I can enjoy this without worrying you’ll bite,” he snickered. He then crawled onto the table with her, straddling her face, his knees placed on either side of her chest right under her open arms. He grabbed his cock in one hand and circled her lips with the head, spreading his precum over her trembling pout. She didn’t make a sound or move her head to avoid him. She was afraid. Perfect.

“Suck it, Granger. I want you to taste a real man when I shoot my hot cum down your throat.”

She opened her mouth, a single tear running down her temple, and he jerked his member into her warmth, moaning at the sensation. He pushed himself into the back of her throat, watching her eyes widen in fear while he cut off her air supply. He then slowly pulled back out. She kept her lips tight, and he continued to drive in and out of her, reveling in the feel of her hot mouth on him.

“Fuck Granger… you’re so fucking good… use your tongue…” he growled, thrusting into her with a little more force. Her cheeks were starting to hurt from being stretched so far, but she did as he asked, just wanting it to be over with. She swirled her tongue over and around his sensitive head, then used it to trace the crease between the engorged mushroom shaped top and the hard, smooth shaft.

“Yes… you are a good little mudblood whore… take my cock… take it all….” he moaned, grinding his cock down her throat with more and more urgency as she brought him closer and closer to the edge. He threw his head back after a few more frantic thrusts, grunting his release. His hot seed poured down her throat in spurts, making her eyes water as she tried not to gag on the encumbrance. He pulled out slowly, the last of his load leaking out onto her chin, and a few drops falling on the swell of her breasts.

“Not bad for a mudblood,” he sneered down at her. “I suppose you deserve a reward for that.”

She closed her eyes, dreading whatever ‘reward’ she was about to receive. She could still taste his salty sweetness in her mouth, and feel the sticky goo on her chin. She breathed in and the smell of expensive cologne that lingered in the air from his sweating form invaded her nose. He had taken over her every sense… She hated him so much.

He ran his slightly flaccid cock that was still wet with saliva over each one of her hard nipples before getting off the table. The light touch seemed to connect a thread from her breasts to her hot center, creating a wetness there that made her cringe in self-loathing.

“What do you want me to do to you?” he growled into her ear, kneading her breasts and pinching each nipple just hard enough to get a reaction out of her. She didn’t reply; she no longer trusted her voice to heed her brain.

“You like it when I pinch your nipples, don’t you? You sick, dirty little whore,” he sneered, his hot breath on her ear sending shivers down her spine. She didn’t move or make a sound, and he lowered his head to taste her hard bud. He took the pink flesh into his mouth and held it still between his teeth, not quite rough enough to draw blood. Using his tongue, he lapped rhythmically on it, all the while massaging and squeezing her opposite mound.

Her body was responding, her juices pooling between her legs, and chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. She had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out, but couldn’t help the low guttural moan that formed deep in her throat. Smirking, Draco withdrew from her breast and resituated himself between her open legs.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? I like it when you moan, it’s only a matter of time until I have you crying out my name, begging me to plunge inside of you… tear you open… make you mine.”

“No…” she croaked out in false confidence, her wavering voice giving away her uncertainty.

“We shall see about that,” he said, grinning maniacally down at her. He spread her inner labia again, and lowered his head to take her engorged clit into his mouth. She gasped in surprise as his warm, wet tongue swirled and suckled at her tender nub. His gentle expertise was something she had never experienced before. It felt good, amazing even, sending soft jolts of pleasure that spread from her clit to the pit of her stomach. Her hips jerked uncontrollably to meet his mouth as his pace increased. She felt her mind slipping out of her restraint.

No.. he can’t win… she thought desperately.

Another low moan fought its way to the surface when she felt him use a finger to tease her opening, dipping his finger in and swirling her hot liquid around the pink flesh. Her vaginal muscles were tensing and releasing as an outlet to the intense pleasure he was giving her. She wanted to cry out, to succumb to the sensations as she was taken into oblivion, but she needed to fight him.

A reckless thought crossed her mind, allowing her to keep her head for another moment.

“Harry… oh Harry…” she moaned loudly, tossing her head from side to side and arching her back as much as her restraints would allow. His palm dug in to her inner thigh, but he only redoubled his ministrations on her clit. Her entire body began to jerk and spasm, completely out of her rein of control. Her breath was coming out in rabid spurts… she was so close…

“Har- no… fuck!” she said through her breathy moans, no longer able to fight back… surrendering to the pleasure… She could feel the onset of her orgasm bubble under the surface of her straining clit.

Then it was gone. She cried out in protest at the lost sensation as he stood up, hulking over her with an evil glint in his eyes. He grabbed his once again rock hard member and positioned it over her throbbing nub, mixing his oozing precum and her freely flowing juices together as he lightly ground into her. The soft stimulation wasn’t enough to give her the release she so desperately longed for, which was of course, his intention.

“What do you want, Granger?” he breathed out, his cock gliding smoothly along her folds. She didn’t answer. She was scared of her own traitorous body; ashamed of what she craved.

“Beg me… we both know you want it. All you have to do is ask,” he purred seductively.

“No… I- I won’t…”

“C’mon Granger… you want my long hard cock to spear you… to send you over the edge… I can fill you completely… end your misery… just say the words…”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She cherished her virginity, and as much as every part of her body yearned for him to take away the uncomfortable tightening in her gut and drive her into the heavens, this was not how she wanted to lose it.

“Beg me, Granger.”

“No!” she said with a little more conviction. She knew she wouldn’t be able to deny him much longer… the soft stimulation of his hard member sliding along her folds was maddening.

“Beg me, dammit!” he groaned angrily.

“No!”

“BEG ME TO FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING WANT IT! I KNOW YOU DO!”

“No.. no.. no… no..” she chanted softly, in sync with his rocking hips, which were moving rougher and more erratic.

“Fuck!” he growled, meeting her wide, scared, pleading eyes with his. His jaw was clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, and he plunged into her in one smooth thrust.

“Ow… oh Malfoy it hurts… please stop…” she whimpered, the sharp pain between her legs causing tears to spring up in her eyes. He ignored her cries of protest and began roughly driving in and out of her, hitting her cervix with each deep and purposeful thrust.

“So fucking tight…” he moaned. “So fucking hot…”

He pounded into her furiously, his hard length disappearing completely inside her tight sheath, his pelvis hitting her swollen clit with every insertion.

“Say -- my -- name…” he grunted.

“Mal-Malfoy,” she cried. The pain had subsided a little as the pleasure from her clit took over, but she still felt a deep burning in her stretched opening.

“NO! Fucking say my name!”

“Draco…”

“Again!”

“Draco… Draco… Draco!” she cried out.

“Yes -- you’re – mine!” he moaned his release. His hot seed spilled deep inside of her in rough spurts, the pleasurable spasms of his orgasm wracking through his entire body, a lazy smirk sneaking up onto his face.

The look of victorious bliss hadn’t quite left his features when it happened. Time stood still for a moment, the onset of comprehension sunk in, and the minutes melded together.

The oath… she hadn’t asked… she never gave in…

The darkened pupils and air of insanity went first. His eyes returned to their usual crystal grey pools, but the light in them had gone. His muscles relaxed, giving him the look of a lost child or a porcelain doll. His blonde hair fell gracefully around his face. He appeared truly angelic… at peace almost… It was very surreal.

He fell away from her slowly at first, pulling out with a sickening squelching sound. Their eyes locked in an intense gaze, as if he were trying to tell her something but couldn’t find the words, or didn’t dare make a sound… They both felt it- the need to tread carefully around time. It was a tricky one, changing pace at random, toying with them. The stillness and silence pressed hard on their eardrums on all sides. Draco’s forceful entrance into her body felt like a millennium ago…

She let out a slow breath apprehensively, afraid of breaking the crushing silence. She swore she could almost see the hot particles leave her mouth and swirl and dance captivatingly through the frozen air like tiny, beautiful shards of glass, as they made their way to Draco’s rigid form. They hit his chest one by one; microscopic bullets that somehow propelled him backwards. He fell to the ground while time played in slow motion, as a cruel trick to ensure they couldn’t ignore what was happening.

The bindings that held her now bruised wrists and ankles disappeared, and the healer costume he wore had transfigured back into Hogwarts attire before he hit the ground. His pale skin stood out in stark contrast against the black of the robes, which had fanned out around him like a cape… his clear wide eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

The empty frame fell to the floor with a loud clang that was unheard by either occupant.

Hermione ran from the room and straight to the Headmaster’s office without looking back.


~*~


Two days later a funeral service was held on the grounds of Hogwarts. The entirety of the school was present, along with a few villagers of Hogsmead and ministry officials. Hermione sat in the very back row of the proceedings, between Harry and Ron, both of whom had been abnormally quiet ever since the incident. Malfoy’s death was explained away to a heart attack (‘but he was so young!’) after a magical autopsy was preformed, and most of the school was still in shock. It wasn’t that Malfoy was particularly popular, outside of his own house at least, but he was still one of their classmates, thus his death was met with heavy hearts.

For Hermione however, her heavy heart was distorted by the sick taste of revenge that still lingered in her mouth when she thought of her and Malfoy’s last moments together. She didn’t know how she should feel. There was sorrow, and hurt, and anger, and fear, and as if those weren’t enough wayward emotions to be buzzing about in one witches head at one time, guilt and remorse joined the queue when she gazed upon Malfoy’s mother, sitting front row and center, shuddering and convulsing as tears wracked her thin frame.

Narcissa Malfoy had always been beautiful, and had a regal and intimidating look about her when Hermione had seen her last. Now she was wearing her emotions on the outside, appearing to be quite the lost soul. Black mascara and shimmering tears marred her perfectly pale, high cheekbones, and without the help of Professor Dumbledore guiding her along, Hermione was sure the woman would have fallen to the ground and joined her son in the afterlife.

And so, the monster that had tormented her for over five years, and then forcefully raped her, had become human.

Still, life went on as normal, well, as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The months passed, and Hermione slowly felt her anger and sadness ebb away. Although she knew she would never forget what happened, the nightmares that haunted her subconscious were fewer and far between, and light blonde hair had ceased making her cringe. Harry and Ron didn’t ask any questions about her subdued behavior, they seemed to just think she was still shaken by the death of one of their classmates, even if said classmate had been their mortal enemy. It was lucky really, because she couldn’t tell them the truth if she wanted to, and she was never one to outright lie to her friends.

The mood in the school turned from one of mourning to extreme tension around May. Time had come for final exams. Though sixth years had a small break between OWLS and NEWTS, it didn’t deter Hermione from making up her usual study guides and pestering her entire house to do the same. Ron and Harry just shrugged off her nagging and joked that they couldn’t fail their exams if they tried. Hermione’s constant quoting of the textbooks had been engraved on their skulls. Ron even claimed he would be spouting facts from Hogwarts, a History, to his great-great-great grandchildren, which would consequently make him the world’s most boring great-great-great grandfather.

The last week of classes were drawing to a close. All the Gryffindors had to do was survive Friday evening’s Double Potions and they were finished. Hermione was frantically stirring her cauldron, wanting to end the year on a good note with the top marks she was used to.

“Time’s up. If any of you have managed to create something that resembles the Drought of the Living Death, then it will need to simmer for at least ten minutes before it can be graded. Since I suspect most of you have been unsuccessful, I will save the vials for more competent students and come around to fail you personally.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Her potion looked exactly as it should, which was a lot more than she could say for Ron, whose potion had turned a hideous shade of-

“Orange, Weasley!? Are you trying to kill a bloody pumpkin or just match your ruddy hair?” Snape sneered down at the sweating form of Ron, before effectively clearing his cauldron.

“And Potter, I guess it could be worse, it could be orange, though purple doesn’t really mesh well with your eye color. I suppose you deserve an E for effort, but since you’re no longer in pre-school, you get a D.”

Harry scowled in his seat, but for once controlled his tongue.

“Ah, Ms. Granger, pity you have yet to rub off on your little entourage. Let’s see… 20 points-“

Hermione gasped in protest and looked seriously affronted. Her potion was perfect! The greasy haired git himself couldn’t have done a better job!

“-Will be awarded to Gryffindor. If you could please see me after class Ms. Granger. The rest of you can hand in your potions for grading and get out of my sight.”

Nobody moved, then one by one the class slowly turned their heads to gape at Hermione, who was positively beaming in her seat. Snape had never awarded so much as a dirty tissue to any house besides his own. And Gryffindor had to be his least favorite house, and Hermione one of his least favorite students because of her closeness to Saint Potter.

“Nice one, Hermione,” Ron said quietly, nudging her from her stupor. He couldn’t veil the look of confusion on his face, but Hermione couldn’t blame him. She was still in shock herself.

The rest of the class quietly bustled from the room, while Hermione cautiously approached the Professor’s desk, wondering why on Earth he wanted to see her.

“You wished you speak with me, Professor?”

“Yes, please sit down,” he said coolly. Hermione fully noted that his voice didn’t hold the bite to it that she was accustomed to. A squashy armchair appeared out of nowhere, and Hermione lowered herself to it, trying and failing to hide the quizzical look from her face.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked to see you, so I’ll just cut right to it. I was the one who performed Draco’s autopsy.”

No sneer, no sarcasm. It was so uncharacteristically Snape that Hermione almost didn’t realize what his straightforward message meant. Her mouth formed a silent ‘Oh,’ and the Potion’s Master continued.

“Retrieving the memories from the deceased is not conventionally a part of the procedure, but… well… Draco has always been like a son to me, so… I’m sure you can see why I deemed it crucial to do so,” he ended softly, not because he was finished talking, but because his throat had become constricted. Hermione instantly felt the guilt rise in her esophagus. If Snape had seen what happened, did he blame her for Draco’s untimely death?

“I don’t blame you in the slightest, Hermione…” he said seriously, staring straight into her eyes with his murky black ones. She would have been incensed by his unsolicited venture into her mind, but the way he said her name had once again left her speechless. There was nothing but honesty in his words... And this was a man who might have seen her naked!

Oh Gods, Snape had seen her naked!

“Don’t worry, the memories start to fade and become distorted after death… there wasn’t much left to be seen… only heard.”

So now he was comforting her on another level…

Who was this man and what had he done to Professor Snape?

“I just thought I’d like to clarify a few things to you… on Draco’s behalf… if you would allow me to.”

Hermione swallowed deeply, while Snape coughed to clear his throat in the background, waiting for her reply. She was unsure if she could handle hearing whatever it was he wanted to tell her. She didn’t think there was anything he could possibly say to rectify the crime Draco had committed. He had taken something away from her that she could never get back, and such a thing was simply unforgivable. Actually, the only thing that had kept her from plotting his horrific murder on a regular basis, was the fact that he had taken care of it himself.

Nevertheless, she was positive that having a civil conversation with a mere student, a Gryffindor no less, was causing her Professor severe strain, so she thought it would be rude not to hear him out.

“Ok.” It came out as a strangled squeak, but at least it was an answer.

“Well, as you know, Lucius was captured in the Department of Mysteries and sent to Azkaban. Since then, Draco has been something of a pawn. His life has become indispensable, I suppose you could say. Since Lucius cannot be punished at the hands of the Dark Lord, Draco inherited the burden.”

He paused for a moment, incase she had her two cents to chide in. After all, Hermione Granger always had something to say, or some fact to quote. The dungeon room remained silent though, which Severus took as his cue to continue.

“The Dark Lord thought it would be humorous to set Draco an impossible mission, just to watch him slowly wilt away into insanity. He was assigned to assassinate Dumbledore.”

Hermione gasped in horror, and Snape was relieved to finally get a response out of the girl. He actually found he preferred the insufferable know-it-all to the comatose mannequin any day. He cleared his throat in his fist and carried on.

“Draco has thought of nothing but his mission all year, though his ill thought out and half-hearted attempts are hardly proof of that. It was eating away at him… Even with all the anti-depression potions he was taking… the fact that his mother’s life was placed solely on his shoulders weighed quite heavily… Then there was you…”

“Me?” she asked weakly.

“Yes, you actually took up quite a large portion of his memories.”

“But why? He hated me!”

“He never hated you, Hermione. In fact, I think his feelings towards you were almost the opposite. Mostly, I think he hated that he didn’t hate you, when he was conditioned to dislike muggleborns since before he could talk. Imagine it- your whole life all you hear about it how awful the muggleborns are, how they steal the magic from real wizards, all of them crooks and liars, and are dirty right down to the core- all this, without ever actually seeing a muggleborn until his first day at Hogwarts.

“And there you were, smart and pretty, knowing more spells than he did coming from a pureblooded wizard family. And you were muggleborn, and I’m sure he half expected you to have horns and eat off the floor like a barbarian. But you didn’t, and his world was turned upside down. So he turned to the only defense he knew. He degraded and harassed you publicly, so no one would ever suspect his obsession with the one thing he was brought up to despise. I believe he has watched you more closely these past years than anyone else in the school.”

Hermione swallowed hard to fight back the emotional break down she was on the brink of. Hearing all this was making her feel an immense amount of pity for Malfoy, but she didn’t want to feel pity for him, she wanted to go on hating his memory in peace the way she had become accustomed to. Why, the way Snape was talking, it almost sounded as if Malfoy-

“Not love, no. Please don’t confuse an obsession with love. I don’t know if Draco was capable of feeling love after everything he’d been through, and under the influence of all those potions… Maybe it was love at one time, I cannot say, but he was using potions to mask that emotion, which he thought would make it easier to carry out his mission. He was afraid of feeling remorse… Afraid of what you would think of him if he ever was successful and did murder Dumbledore. He was afraid of disappointing you, Hermione.”

That was it. She could no longer hold back to tears that freely but silently made their way down her now splotchy red cheeks. Not wanting to lose his stride, and never really being one to comfort crying girls, he continued on without acknowledging Hermione’s breakdown, to which she was extremely grateful.

“He was not in his right mind when he attacked you. Though I know that is no excuse, it is the truth,” he spoke seriously, a hint of finality to his tone.

“Why are you telling me this?” she breathed out, choking on her words as she fought to keep a fresh wave of tears at bay. The question wasn’t ‘why are you telling me this.’ It was, why was he, Severus Snape, undercover Death Eater extraordinaire, and socially inept dungeon hermit, telling her this, when he had never so much as looked in her direction without the unmistakable aura of contempt.

“Well I guess…. I just wanted to tell you…. thank you,” he whispered, now staring at his hands.

“For what?” she instantly snapped, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Let’s just say, that you and Draco weren’t the only ones to make impulsive, foolish wizard’s oaths under pressure.”

“I-I don’t understand, professor.”

Snape made a mental note to save that very sentiment, to be replayed at a later time when the bushy haired girl was straining in her seat with her hand in the air, interrupting his lecture. Trying not to snicker at his own sick sense of humor, he elaborated on his previous statement.

“I made an oath with Narcissa Malfoy, that if Draco would inevitably fail, I would carry out the deed. But with what happened… well… it changes everything, for the better, really. You do realize that now, don’t you?”

She sat for a minute, deep in thought. Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, came a feeling of resolve, of acceptance. Draco Malfoy had done a horrible thing to her, but he was a product of his environment, an environment that was more horrible than anything she could imagine. She couldn’t blame him for things that now seemed out of his control. The only one that deserved the blame was Lord Voldemort.

Draco was forgiven.

Fire blazed in her eyes. Everything always came back to Voldemort. With Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore at her side, she would fight him until he met the same end as his victims.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said softly, gracing him with the first genuine smile she had worn in months. He returned her gesture with a curt nod. Sensing that her personal time with Snape had come to an end, she quickly gathered her things and headed towards the door.

“Will you be ok, Ms. Granger?” he called out after her.

She turned to answer him, but not before she saw the shadows of feet through the small space under the doorway, and heard the unmistakable worried whispers of her two best friends. Ron and Harry had waited for her. Her heart swelled.

“Yes, I will be.”


~*The End*~

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If you didn't like this ending, please stick around for the eventual alternate one :)

Oh and I know Snape didn’t teach Potions in 6th year, but I’m not a big fan of Slughorn. Snape with always be Potions Master in my eyes. *sigh*

***HUGE thanks to everyone who took the time to review the first chapter, you were seriously inspiring and I really can’t thank you enough for how happy you’ve made me.***

All the best,
-Alexis Rose