Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Thinking	By : tcarlson Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 8896 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money off this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Chp 1: Shutting Off the Brain
- 2-Chp 2: To Lure a Potter
- 1
- 2
Hermione regretted that she never learned Occlumency. She had read about it numerous times, of course, but reading it and practicing it were two very different things. Plus, it was hard to put up these “walls” and “clear the mind” like the books spoke of when you knelt next to the most powerful Legilimens in the world and weren’t sure if you would live to see another day.

Fortunately, said Legilimens had allowed her to live many days thus far, which is far more than Hermione could have hoped for. They were days not spent in comfort or peace. She was forced to kneel on the cold stone floor next to the elaborate throne, or, if she was lucky, on the slightly more comfortable carpet next to the marble desk. Punishment came swift and hard. The Cruciatus curse was thrown at her without warning for the slightest of infringements.

She was to kneel, be silent, and do as she was told.

Although, itis hard to be silent when your captor and almost constant companion can hear your thoughts as easily as if you spoke them out loud and directly into his ear. She would think absentmindedly of Harry or Ron and be writhing on the floor in the throes of some sort of curse before she knew what hit her.

He knew her secrets. He knew every intimate detail about her. And he used everything he learned against her. It made for the most creative of punishments when he played on her fears and doubts, but it also made for a very miserable existence.

So she tried not to think. She would try to imagine a blank piece of parchment in her mind. It was something that he couldn’t use against her. This approach would last all of fifteen minutes. She was easily sidetracked by the conversation going on around her in the room. Her mind went from blank parchment to whatever the Death Eaters were currently discussing to “Merlin, I need to escape these monsters!” in a second flat. The second after that, she suddenly found herself writhing on the floor in unbearable pain.

She couldn’t turn her mind off like a switch. It was a drawback of being so inquisitive and intelligent: her mind whirled with a thousand different thoughts and fears and desires. He could easily go in there and pluck out what would serve his purpose. Instead, she tried thinking of very specific and boring things. Things that he wouldn’t care a moment about and that he couldn’t use against her.

She went through every single potion recipe that she ever learned. She translated what was being said into Runes and back again. She recited entire books from memory. Basically, she created her own form of Occlumency by not thinking anything he would want to hear. And it worked quite well. He hadn’t caught her thinking anything that he could punish her for in days. It may be a boring life, but she was safe.

It proved frustrating, though. It was tiring to constantly think of topics that he wouldn’t care about and not to slip into the old habit of thinking whatever she pleased. It literally drained her. She always had to be on her guard. She hadn’t a moment’s peace. She worried about her dreams, even, for recently he had started chaining her up at the foot of his bed at night. Drifting off to sleep, she would allow a small prayer to flitter through her thoughts, hoping that her dreams would not give him reason to be angry in the morning. So far she had been lucky.

He never said much to her except to bark a few orders in her direction. She learned to obey those first few days. Now, with her mind basically turned off, it was even easier to follow his commands unthinkingly. Kneel here, eat now, follow me, do this, do that, blah, blah, blah.

The Gryffindor part of her that sometimes still broke through screamed at her to rebel for surely even being tortured must be better than the monotony she was forced to endure. She needed mental stimulation, for Merlin’s sake! She quickly shut that part of her up by starting to name all the objects in the room, her go-to method to “emptying” her mind.

“You don’t have to take this,” that part yelled at her one day. “Get up off your knees, Hermione Granger, and show some of that Gryffindor courage. You are not some servant to be bossed around, you are… 8 windows, a black tiled floor, an oriental rug, the large marble desk, a tapestry of a dragon…” She sighed in relief as she got herself under control.

The figure in the chair beside her paused in his scribbling and shifted to look at her. “Actually, I do believe that tapestry is of a snake, not a dragon,” he informed her, his red eyes glittering with amusement. She nodded and ducked her head further to again escape his attention.

“…a tapestry of a snake,” she corrected herself. He went back to his notes. “3 doors, a table, 4 chairs, Professor Snape… Professor Snape?!”

He didn’t spare her a second glance. None of the Death Eaters ever did. She was invisible to all except their master, who rather enjoyed reminding her that she wasn’t invisible.

“My Lord, I bring news,” her former professor stated in his usual bored drawl.

News? News was good. She hadn’t heard anything about the Order or the war since before she woke up lying on the floor next to his throne with no memory of how she got there. He had looked down at her, told her to kneel, cursed her when she didn’t comply, and the rest is history. What she would give to hear how Harry and Ron were! Or if the Order was planning on her rescue…

A Stinging hex that she interpreted to mean “shut up” hit her in the hip. She had the decency to look ashamed at her uncontrolled thoughts. The Muffliato charm cast around her destroyed any hope that she would finally hear something of the outside world. To be safe, she started listing the steps to brew a proper Polyjuice Potion. No need to anger him further.

Unfortunately, the Polyjuice Potion brought on the memory of stealing the ingredients needed for it from the man who stood before the desk. This lead to the thought that the man before the desk had been her professor for six years and was now witnessing her kneeling beside the desk like a slave or a whore. He probably thought that she had been forced by him and was that pity in his eyes or was she imagining it? And oh this is so embarrassing!

The Muffliato charm was lifted to reveal the Dark Lord chuckling. “Excuse me, Severus, but I must interrupt you. Miss. Granger has been babbling in her head since you got here and I find it quite amusing. She’s been so composed the past couple of weeks, but you’ve seemed to have totally broken her concentration.”

“Weeks? How long have I been here?” Hermione wondered. “No! Stop! Concentrate. Let’s see… 12 uses of dragon blood…”

“She seems to think that you would care about her current position. That because you were her teacher, that you would pity her state,” the Dark Lord continued as if she hadn’t thought a thing at all. “She also worries that you think that I’ve forced myself upon her. She’s quite intent on you knowing that I haven’t.”

“…and the twelfth use is oven cleaner…”

“I assure you, my Lord, that I actually quite enjoy seeing her obedient and silent. I wish she could have been so during my classes. As for the other concern, I care not if her honor is intact or not. It may finally put her in her place, though.”

“That bastard!” Anger emptied her mind of everything except possibly scrambling over the desk and slapping that sneer off of Snape’s face.

Another Stinging hex caught her in the cheek. “Apologize,” the Dark Lord demanded.

Snape looked confused but turned to her to receive his apology. “I’m sorry,” she spat, “that I called you a bastard in my head and that I thought about slapping you because of the aforementioned bastardness.”

Both men’s faces darkened. “Well done, Hermione,” she chastised herself. “What a perfect time to be totally Gryffindor and not think of the consequences.” She braced herself for the slew of curses that was sure to follow such an idiotic outburst. Had she learned nothing in the weeks that she had been held captive?

“I will deal with you later,” the Dark Lord said menacingly. “Severus’s report is more important than your temper tantrum.”

The Muffliato charm was replaced, leaving Hermione to angrily stare at the floor and occupy her mind in silence. She was furious with herself. Now she would have to endure some sort of horrible punishment and she didn’t know how much more pain she could take before totally losing herself in despair.

The buzzing that accompanied the Muffliato charm lifted, but the room was no less quiet. Sneaking a peek to see if she had been left alone, Hermione jumped when the face of her captor was found to be less than a foot from hers. He studied her thoughtfully. She squirmed under his intense gaze.

Suddenly, he stepped back and walked away. “Come,” he ordered, holding the door open to his private chambers that connected to the office. She nervously shuffled past him and stood awkwardly in the center of his room. He stepped into the room and slammed the door behind him. “Now, what am I to do with my naughty Mudblood?”
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Thinking