Severus calls the Dark Lord to his office to warn him of Hermione’s state of mind, and the ensuing conversation makes Hermione realize that her Father is far more Slytherin than she ever thought possible.

Severus Snape really despised being the Headmaster most days, and today was no exception. In all his years of teaching, he’d never once given any consideration to eventually taking over for Dumbledore—he’d always thought that Minerva—with her overblown sense of fairness and self-righteousness, would be a perfect replacement for when Dumbledore finally dropped dead.

But here Severus was—fucking Headmaster of hundreds of hormonally challenged dunderheads, and the worst part was? He didn’t even get to teach anymore. If someone had told Severus Snape that he’d actually miss teaching the imbeciles running around this place, he’d have scowled and promptly invented some useful hex to turn the blighter into a giant flobberworm. Then proceed to squeeze the green mucus out of said flobberworm and utilizing it for something useful, like Wiggenweld Potion.

But alas, that was simply not meant to be as he found himself summoning his Master, all because the Dark Lord’s daughter had obviously heard about the upcoming revel and in his infinite wisdom? The Dark Lord thought it would be a good idea to...what?

Severus shook his head in exasperation.

He really hated people sometimes.

In a flash of green flames, the Dark Lord walked into the Headmaster’s office, looking immaculate but irritated at being summoned.

“This better be important Severus.” The Dark Lord hissed unhappily.

“That depends on your definition of important, My Lord.” Severus drawled impassively, not even flinching when his Lord’s eyes flashed red at his impudence.

“Perhaps I’ve been remiss, Severus? How long has it been since I’ve properly ‘crucio’d’ you?”

This caused Severus to smirk slightly. “That would’ve been after you returned from your sabbatical, my Lord, and realized that your daughter had not been treated with the deference she deserved.”

Voldemort sat down in the chair across from the Headmaster’s desk and sent a harsh glare toward his loyal follower. “Are you chastising me, Severus?”

“I would hardly admit it if I were, My Lord. On the contrary...your daughter appears to be quite upset about something today. Young Mr. Malfoy received a letter and I can only assume it was from Lucius—perhaps about this upcoming weekends festivities? I’m sure Hermione is feeling a bit, shall we say?” Severus waved his hand in the air, like he was brushing away something insignificant.

Voldemort’s eyes glowered at Severus. “What did she do? Set the Great Hall on fire?”

This did cause Severus to nearly smile, which caused Voldemort to look at his follower in shock.

“Wandless, silent magic—burned Draco’s letter to ash...most spectacularly I might add.”

Folding his hands up, Voldemort grinned. “She’s quite powerful...more so when she’s angry.”

“Perhaps you might decide whether you intend to have her participate this weekend. I’d imagine, knowing Hermione as I do, she’s wondering why you haven’t shared your plans with her?”

Tilting his head back, the Dark Lord let out an aggrieved groan and Severus eyes shot up at the nearly domestic frustration of his Lord.

“Being a Father is harder than I’d imagined it would be. I miss the days when I could just kill and torture without having to worry about taking my daughter’s feelings into consideration.” The Dark Lord hissed the word ‘feelings’ like it was an incurable case of Dragon Pox—the disgust was palpable.

“I’m not sure I’m the best one suited to have this discussion with, My Lord. I detest children. They are undisciplined blighters who waste my time complaining over the most incessant, ridiculous things. It’s a shame there isn’t some sort of blanket ‘imperius’ that could be placed over the entirety of Hogwarts, as it would simply make my job far more tolerable.”

Voldemort chuckled at Severus, knowing that he was at least, partially serious in what he was suggesting.

“So my daughter?”

“Is apparently having what amounts to a temper tantrum, if the look she sent my way this morning was any indication. I felt it was prudent to contact you as in some fashion, I’d rather face a straightforward ‘crucio’ than anything she might come up with in that devious little mind of hers.”

At this, Voldemort laughed loudly. “Perhaps you’re right. I did indicate when we spoke last that I would include her in my plans.”

“She is in Potions as we speak. Should I send for her to come here?”

Voldemort waved his hand in acquiescence, so Severus summoned a piece of parchment, wrote the missive and cast a ‘lacus statim’ to Professor Slughorn. The parchment ‘popped’ away and nearly ten minutes later, there was a knock at his door.

“Enter.” Severus drawled out, watching with amusement as Hermione opened the door, her eyes widening at seeing her father sitting there, looking both parts irritated and amused at his daughter.

“Come in, my dear.” Voldemort waved the door shut as Hermione moved into the room a bit hesitantly.

“That was fast.” Hermione tried not to sound petulant, but by the dark look both Severus and her father sent her way, she didn’t quite manage it properly.

“Sit.” Voldemort hissed at his daughter and waved Severus out of the room.

After the Headmaster had taken his leave, Hermione and her father stared at each other for a few moments until Voldemort sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Speak, Daughter—you obviously have something on your mind if Severus of all people, felt it necessary to summon me here.”

Hermione crossed her arms in irritation. “You promised me that you would keep me involved in your plans yet I had to hear it from mum that you are calling a revel this weekend?”

Voldemort hissed in frustration. “Yes, I am, and I won’t insult your intelligence by explaining why. I will however tell you the same thing I shared with your mother. I am not a good wizard and I’m never going to be. What happened to you is inexcusable and if I hadn’t obliviated your Muggle guardians? I might’ve killed them for their lack of taking care of you properly.”

Hermione stood up, her hair crackling in anger causing Voldemort to inwardly grin at his daughter’s show of strength.

She wasn’t afraid.

“Those two people were the only people in my life who gave a damn about me for years!” Hermione’s hands clenched at her sides as her magic radiated around her potently.

“And you don’t think I give a damn about you?” Voldemort’s voice was dangerously low as he looked at his daughter with eyes that were blazing red with emotion.

She instantly deflated a bit, looking down at her father and shook her head. “I didn’t mean to infer otherwise, Father. I know you do—in your own way.”

“You are upset about your mother and as a consequence, are angry with me.”

Her eyes widened in shock at her father’s accurate deduction.

Yes, she was angry.

Angry at the situation and unsure how she was going to be able to fix it.

Sitting down in her chair, Hermione gave her father a look that he hadn’t seen from her—was it fear?

That thought left him feeling unsettled.

“I’m angry yes, but I’m afraid too. I don’t want to lose Mum—not when I’ve just gotten her back. How am I supposed to feel about any of this?”

Voldemort sighed and leant forward, staring at his daughter as she tried to get control over her emotions.

“Hermione, I’m unsure what to say to you about any of this. But I can see both Marlene and I have been remiss in not sitting down with you and discussing this as soon as it was made aware to me. However, I must offer my thanks,” at this her eyes widened in shock, “your mother most likely, would not have told me had she not confided to you about her situation. I have done Marlene a disservice, not consciously on my part. As you’re aware, your mother and I are mates and this was discovered by myself long after I’d made my horcruxes. I know what Marlene shared with you about remorse, and she is correct in her assumption that my choices have left little room for that particular emotion in my life. I have regrets...some...not many. You and your mother are the two I will concede to. My anger at the hardships you’ve faced has more to do with my sense of responsibility where you’re concerned. You are my daughter...my Heir. If I don’t avenge those wrongs perpetuated against you, how can I assure your safety from those who might seek to harm you? Or even try to use you to get to me?”

“Then why not tell me this? Why not give me the choice? You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to attend this weekend! You sought to make that choice for me! I’m not some wilting violet that needs to be protected from the evils in this world! I’ve seen it, Father! I’ve faced the haters and tormentors and I’ve risen above it all! Why do you seek to shelter me? I didn’t and haven’t asked you to do so! Do you not trust me?”

Hermione could feel tears coming to her eyes, but she valiantly held them back.

“Do you not trust me, Daughter?”

Hermione reeled back in shock as if she’d been slapped. “I...what?”

Voldemort chuckled at his own flesh and blood. “You, my dearest child, think I don’t know how your brilliant mind works—always planning ten steps ahead. Did you seriously think I didn’t know about the Hallows? Did you think it didn’t occur to me that when you took out Albus Dumbledore, that you might’ve done so with an objective in mind? Do you think so little of your own father, that you really thought I didn’t know the significance of that ring on your finger?”

Hermione’s face paled in shock as she looked into her Father’s face and saw the truth of his words.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Voldemort chuckled deeply, enjoying the look of shock on his own child’s face. “Because I was very curious what you had planned and I must admit? I wanted to see if you could find them all. You don’t have the Cloak I’m assuming, but if I had to hazard a guess—you know where it is—or at least, who might have it?”

She nodded, dumbfounded while her Father just smiled at her discomfort.

“Well, I do suspect whatever your initial motives, or contingencies—they have changed—haven’t they?”

She just nodded again, too stunned to speak.

Voldemort stood up and went over to his daughter and gave her a light kiss on her head.

“I will expect you to attend Saturday with Draco.” Tilting her face up so he could look into her eyes, he considered his daughter sternly. “If you were anyone else—I would’ve never allowed these concessions and would’ve acted accordingly. But you are my daughter, Hermione...flesh of my flesh. You have given me your loyalty and I value you above all others. Do you remember the conversation we had when we first met about trust and loyalty?”

She nodded. “You told me that loyalty is a difficult concept but trust is even more rare, and valued.”

“And do you remember what you said in return?”

“That loyalty is hard to find and trust is easy to lose.”

Voldemort nodded. “You also said that ‘actions speak louder than words’.”

“I did.”

“And what do you think your actions have shown me, my dear.”

Hermione’s head dropped as a tear fell from her eye and down her cheek, but her father tilted her head back up as she looked into his eyes...eyes that weren’t red at the moment, but a deep forest green.

“That I don’t trust you enough to be honest with you.”

“Yes, and that is partially my fault. If you hadn’t been so consumed with self-preservation for so many years, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. How can I fault you for something I’m partially responsible for and how can I as a father, berate you for traits that I have benefited from over these past years? I may be a Dark Wizard, but I’d like to think I’m not a hypocrite, at least not where you’re concerned.”

Hermione laughed and stood up, hugging her father tightly. To his credit, he allowed this concession, wrapping his arms gently around her and returning her affections, even if it was briefly.

“I will see you Saturday.”

“Of course, Father and thank you for coming to talk with me.”

“You’re welcome, Hermione.”

The Dark Lord left the way he had come, and Hermione was left amazed at just how Slytherin her Father really was.