Hermione winced at the sound of her feet slapping against the floor, the echo reverberating conspicuously off the walls. Despite her growing anxiety to escape the stale, hanging air she forced herself to slow as she entered a dimly-lit stretch of corridor, bereft even of the inadequate wall torches. She was about to reach into her robes to cast a quick Lumos spell before she remembered that her wand had been confiscated upon arrival. No wonder the Governor had been so apprehensive when she had shrugged off her official guides and insisted on an independent inspection, she thought wryly to herself. Sighing, she wrapped her cloak tighter around her body and plunged into the darkness.
Seconds went by as she plodded cautiously forward, only the sound of dripping water accompanying her subdued footsteps. Drip. Drip. Drip. She paused to run her hand speculatively along the glistening wall, recoiling as her fingers came into contact with a spongy mass growing in a crack.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Hermione jumped, spinning around with an angry retort ready on her lips before she saw that the corridor behind her was empty.
"At least not if you value your fingers," the voice continued with an unpleasant snigger. "But then you never did set much store by advice from your superiors."
There was something in that cold and sneering tone which seemed to resonate in Hermione's memory, and she found the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the chill air.
"P-professor?" she stammered, stepping tentatively forward.
"It's been a long time since anyone's called me that – although I've been called just about everything else in the interim." He laughed humourlessly.
"I thought you were dead," she whispered.
Snape let out a harsh peal of laughter. "Yes, I had rather noticed visitor numbers dropping off these last couple of years – and here was me worrying that I had done something to offend my gracious public."
"You haven't changed a bit," Hermione flashed angrily, lifting up her foot to leave as the entrancing effect of hearing his voice after so long wore off.
"You, on the other hand…" He left his sentence hanging, his voice all silky innuendo. "I'd feign an interest in what you're doing with yourself these days, but then I barely cared what the brats in my own house got up to once they left Hogwarts, so I won't pretend that I'm being eaten up by curiosity now."
She took a step back in shock as she realised that he was watching her, eyes darting around as she attempted to locate him in the dark. She could just make out an outline of metal bars in front of her as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, but Snape remained hidden somewhere in the depths of his cell. She stepped forward and peered into the impenetrable blackness.
"Get back!" he snarled, a loud metal clanking noise alerting Hermione to the presence of shackles. "I never was much of a morning person," he smirked, smoothly recovering his veneer.
"You're mad," Hermione murmured, a note of pity creeping into her voice.
"Suprisingly sane, actually – which is something of a compliment to my character considering the lack of sensory stimulation this place has to offer. I used to read a book a day," he remarked sadly, his voice dropping to a thin whisper of longing.
"You sold us all out to Voldemort and you expect sympathy over the lack of reading material?" Hermione said incredulously.
"Actually, I expect you to arrange for some privileges, but I suppose there's time yet for that. Your sympathy you can keep."
Hermione's mouth gaped open in outrage. She tried to speak, but her mind had flooded with the countless insults she had heard spat against Snape in the years since his betrayal, so that when she finally managed to engage her tongue someone else's words seemed to leap out. "I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire," she growled.
"I don't know where you got the impression that I would want you to," he said smoothly, "and I would rather hope that Professor Flitwick had educated you to a higher standard than that. Still, Muggle-borns will be Muggles."
"And I suppose half-bloods will be insecure megalomaniacs?" Hermione countered fiercely, flushing in the dark.
"Oh, you are getting the hang of this!" Snape exclaimed, brightening up considerably. "But I was never ashamed of being the Half-Blood Prince."
Hermione took a deep breath, schooling herself not to let him rattle her– after all, he had been reduced to taunting her from behind bars while she looked on with disdain. "Let me see you," she demanded, chin jutting forward defiantly.
"I wouldn't want to tarnish all the golden memories," he sniggered unpleasantly.
"You want to know how I'll remember you? A bitter, twisted man cowering away in a dark and forgotten corner of Azkaban. And very shortly even that memory will cease to exist. I'll walk away and simply… forget." She smiled wanly, nodding a final acknowledgement to Snape before spinning on her heel and starting to walk away.
"Granger! Granger!" he shouted hoarsely, shackles clanking madly as he scrambled forward in his cell.
She paused but refrained from turning around, fists clenched angrily at her sides.
"Come, come – you and I both know that's not true," he said silkily.
Silence.
"Because to forget me is to lose any hope of finding the answer."
"Answer? I wasn't aware I had asked a question," she replied tartly.
"Precisely – that's the problem," Snape said, with the impatient air of explaining a simple boils solution to a particularly slow Hufflepuff. "You can't expect to find the correct answer if you don't think to ask the right question first. So I want you to go away and consider the following – a sort of homework assignment, if you will."
"I think you'll find that you lost that prerogative nearly ten years ago," Hermione shot back.
Snape ignored her interjection as he mentally conjured the right words with which to frame his question. "The Dark Lord was the most feared wizard of our age," he began carefully. "One wizard alone evoked his fear. Note that this wizard was dispatched not after a lengthy duel of awe-inspiring consequence but with a quick flick of the wand by a disinterested follower. So I ask you this; do you really think that Dumbledore would have wasted his last moments pleading for his life like a common Muggle – what was he really asking for, do you think?"
Hermione snorted contemptuously, angry with herself for staying even this long to hear him out. "Goodbye, Snape."
He craned forward, listening to the diminishing sound of her footsteps. Finally, when they were swallowed by the sound of the dripping water, he leaned against the wall of his cell and smiled to himself. She would be back.
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