Azael's Chains

Dungeons

The Dark Lord was present at dinner that evening and ordered her to follow to the drawing room where Severus Snape and the Lestrange brothers awaited him. The men's gazes drew to her like iron to a magnet and she lingered in the doorway as the Malfoys followed their lord.

The only open seat was between Voldemort and Rabastan Lestrange and trepidity echoed her footsteps.

"The mudblood is still intact I see," the younger brother said as his eyes roved her curled-up form. "I thought you'd have cursed the shit out of her by now, Draco."

"He did," Voldemort purred. "I had him Cruciate her numerous times. Isn't that right, dear boy?"

Stiffness laced the response. "Yes, my lord."

"That must have been quite the entertainment."

She took the tumbler of whiskey when it floated before her face, but held it between white-knuckled fingers. As alcohol could lower the walls of her compartmentalized mind, she was uncertain it was wise to indulge. Especially given the other evening.

"Care to have a turn, Severus?" the elder Lestrange quipped with a toothy smile. "We all know how you feel about the little swot."

Her eyes flicked over to her cold professor, watching his own black gaze trail thick judgement over the inhabitants of the room. "I have heard enough of Miss Granger's shrill voice to last a lifetime, thank you. No."

"You could always silence her," Rodolphus suggested.

Snape rolled his eyes in a familiar expression of disdain. "Not all of us think with our wands alone, Rodolphus.

The double meaning cloyed the air and she could feel the rankle subsuming the Lestrange brothers. Rodolphus Lestrange tapped his forefinger against the tumbler held by fingertips. "Some of us wonder if you even know how to use your wand, Severus. It has been so long, hasn't it?"

The astonishment lodged in her throat, caught between cough and barking laugh. It melted under the flat irritation lanced her way by the professor and Hermione found herself sipping burning whiskey before she could stop herself.

"I assure you," stroked the hypnotizing baritone, "that I have complete mastery over my... wand. Though you will have to take my word, as I would rather keep it far from you and your wife."

"You didn't always feel that way." It was a low singsong and Rabastan giggled at his brother's insipidity.

The fire thundered in its cove, flames licking over the mantel in radiant ire.

"Stop baiting Severus, Rodolphus. Or would you like us to speak of the indiscretions of your youth?" The flesh over Voldermort's eye raised, the cocking of a nonexistent brow.

The brothers exchanged unspoken words and Lestrange the elder leaned back and focused on his drink.

"How are reparations going, Severus?"

Snape began rambling about the castle and preparing it for the upcoming term, studying the fire with fathomless eyes as he spoke, one hand waving to emphasize his words. It was casual and absent, and she wondered how a man who had spent the majority of his life at the school could be so dispassionate about it, especially as he currently held the position of headmaster.

"And have you filled all of the positions?" By contrast, Voldemort's silken sibilance was keen to discuss Hogwarts, the obsession of his youth.

Snape released a burdened sigh. "Most of the teaching positions are full and I have candidates I am screening for the others, but I have yet to procure a librarian. It is not quite as standard as similar positions, and it is a near-miracle Irma lived as long as she did to manage it."