I own nothing except my OC (Ugh, I know what you're thinking; bare with me!) and the plot. I will be taking some creative liberty, as this is fan-fiction (i.e. Remus is a teacher's aid and Sirius is cleared of the crimes, already having escaped before the Trio's first year). Do try to remember that.
Sirius/Hermione; Snape/OC; very slight Harry/Ginny; very slight Ron/Lavender in later chapters.
Everything else you recognize is the property of the lovely J.K. Rowling.
Adult themes- this is important. Mentions of rape, though not in terrible detail. Relationships between adult and a student (not physical until graduation). Graphic details, mild swearing.
Enjoy.

She had been cut before, with a knife and other sharp things; she had been tied up and beaten, with fists and lamps and even the boots he said he wore to work; she had been burned with cigarettes and the stove tops; she had been starved, gone days without being allowed to bathe; she was not allowed to go to school; but the one thing that had never happened before that day was rape.

Her mother had just died- she was not allowed to ask how- and so she was left all alone with her father in their flat in the middle of the city. Then, after seven years of no schooling and seeing drugs in her house and knowing a man before she had even had a chance to explore her own body, like everyone else did, and being beaten and whipped with a leather whip, she found a piece of paper on the rug inside the front door. She had wriggled out of her ropes and slid out of the filthy bed, trying to figure a way to sneak a bath to wash the remnants of man- her own father- off her when she found it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Barlow,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Following this was the aforementioned list of necessary equipment, but Leona could not read any part of the letter. Since she was bruised so often- especially to hide the long, thin, deep whip marks across her back, from shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip- she had never been allowed to go to school, develop any social skills or the ability to read or do math.

She knew how to feel fear; that was something she had been taught a long time ago. She knew anger; that was to be expected.

Looking around her- her father was lying on the bed, next to where she had been lying- she tried to figure out a way to read the letter. She struggled with the words for a long time- she knew how to say them, but not how to read them- but her father stirred on the bed. She looked around frantically (the house was not that big, so she did not have very many places to hide the letter) and then stuffed the letter under the rug by the front door, where she knew it wouldn't be found. She jumped back in the bed, lie like she was asleep, and ground her teeth like she usually did when she knew she would soon be in pain.

XOXOXO

At first she had fought her father, with her tiny four-year-old strength, and kicked and screamed and begged for her mommy. He thought it was funny and continued to touch her in bad places, laughing in her face so that she could smell whatever he had drank that day. Now, at eleven, she lay there, glassy eyes blank as they watched the ceiling while the bed shook, thinking about how many colors could be found in the sky at once, and what trees probably smelled like. Even when she had been allowed outside, she had never seen a real tree.

He finished, and yelled some curse words with a sick smirk on his face, and rolled off her so she could breathe again.

"I'm going to the corner," he told her. She did not answer, did not look at him, did not move; that was not her job.

"If you so much as sit up while I'm gone, you'll find the end of that leather whip real quick," he said close to her face. She did not move.

He had been gone for maybe ten minutes when the front door opened again. She had not moved- her back was still sore from the day before, when he had reopened all the whip wounds- and did not move even then, waiting for him to open another can and be on her once more. That did not happen however. The next events went something like this.

She took a chance and lifted her head; the person- people- she saw standing there were not her father. He was the only person she had ever seen besides her mother since she was three, and the thought of new people frightened her. She did a roll off the bed, landing lithely on her feet in front of the nightstand, turned around and grabbed the first thing her fingers found; a glass ashtray.

The first younger-looking man put his hands up in front of him, knees bent as he cautiously approached her, holding some kind of twig in his right hand. The man behind him, wearing a dress and a beard almost as long, watched her carefully as well, and spoke in a scratchy voice, "Can you tell us your name?"

The old man waited for her to answer while the younger one crept closer and closer, still pointing the twig at her. Her heart was racing, and she looked quickly at the bed; she knew if she wasn't back in it in the same position when her father returned, she would get the whip again and she did not want that.

"You have to leave!" she whispered urgently, "Or you'll get the whip too!"

The younger man looked horrified, and the older man looked sad. "No one will be getting whipped," the old man said, and she nodded and confirmed, "Yes huh! I got up, I'm gonna get it!"

The younger man looked down and cringed. "Albus, she's bleeding."

She lobbed the ash tray as hard as she could at the young man; he ducked and it shattered against the wall, and she gasped and covered her mouth, staring at it.

"He heard," she whispered, terrified, "he heard 'nd now I'm gonna get it!"

The younger man was in front of her now, within touching distance. She didn't know what to do. She had heard both of their voices now, and they were not her father's, and she hated her father's voice but at the same time it was the only one she knew.

"Remus," the old man cautioned, but the young man did not listen. He stepped toward the girl one more time and lowered himself down. "What's your name?" he asked her gently. He looked tired, with scars on his face and shadows under his eyes and gray in his sandy hair.

"Not supposed to say," she whispered, grinding her teeth. She knew she was going to get touched by this man, she knew it, and then she was going to get the whip because she got out of the bed.

He smiled comfortingly at her. "It's alright, you can tell me," he said easily, although he still looked extremely apprehensive. She looked at the door, and the bed, and then leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Leona Barlow."

He smiled wide at her and said, "That's a lovely name! Tell me Leona, would you like to go to-"

"LEONA!"

There was a fierce pounding on the door and Leona jumped back on the bed by instinct, straightening her arms and legs so she was lying the way she had been before.

"UNLOCK THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

Leona was too afraid to speak. The men, although the young one seemed wary, did not look upset.

The young man leaned over her on the bed. "Would you like to go to school?" he asked her, still forcing a smile. She did not answer, only lay on the bed, petrified.

The pounding on the door increased and Leona's heart lept into her throat. Her father was furious, and she knew she would not only get the whip but probably the knife as well.

"Collect her, Remus," the old man said, gathering his robes about him, "we should be leaving now."

The young man hesitated; her father started kicking at the door, screaming expletives; he hoisted her up around the waist and tucked her quite tightly inside his black cloak, holding her to his chest. "You may Disapparate," the old man said, "I'd like to have a few words with Mr. Barlow. Oh, Remus, take this to Madam Pomfrey."

The old man handed the young man the leather whip, and Leona cringed and turned her face away; she knew she wouldn't get out of this without a whipping.

The young man patted her back. "No whippings here," he said to her, and they were gone.

Sirius Black sat on a bed in the hospital wing, his new place of employment, watching Madam Pomfrey label potion bottles. He was still thinking about Harry, his godson, and how happy he had seemed when he'd been told that he could live with Sirius, and how he would get to finally see Harry again after all these years. He was thinking about his new job, learning to be a healer in Hogwarts. If he needed help with a student, Madam Pomfrey would be there to help him out, and he would be able to see his godson every day as well.

Perhaps the only bad thing about his job was Snivellus. He had to see the bloke every day, as he often brewed potions that needed to be stocked in Madam Pomfrey's stores. He would silently take the bottles from the git, and Snape would sneer at him, and they would interact no more.

Then, while he was reading a rather boring book on head colds, someone slowly opened the front door and stepped inside, wearing a heavy black cloak and mumbling. Sirius shut his book and stood up, calling, "Hello?" He was surprised to see his friend Remus, but when he looked closer he saw that Remus was holding either a large baby or a horrendously underdeveloped child. The thing, when he got close enough, reeked, and was smudged with dirt and a few other substances as well. Sirius' eyes widened and he immediately called for Madam Pomfrey, who came bustling out, and turned back to Remus. Remus lay the child on a bed, where it remained on its back and still, and grimly searched in his cloak pocket. When he had found what he had been searching for, he lay it on the bed as well, and Sirius gasped.

It was a leather whip.

Madam Pomfrey gaped for a moment as well, and then turned serious once more.

"Where did you find her, Remus?"

"Her house. Dumbledore and I were just there. She was sent a letter but no one responded. Her father came back while we were there, started yelling and kicking the door. She said if we didn't leave we would 'get the whip too'." Remus looked heartbroken.

Sirius dashed away to his chair and came back with a note pad, something he was required to do so he could take notes on all his patients. Normally the people he tended to had colds or stomachaches or something trivial, and all he had to do was note their name and whatever they took, but this would be different, he could tell.

Madam Pomfrey cast a few diagnostic spells and Sirius noted them, and Remus turned away. Madam Pomfrey stripped the girl of the dress she had been wearing and surveyed the girl's front. She had obviously not hit puberty yet, as there was no hair anywhere, and not a spot on her face, and her chest was flat. Her eyes were blank, and when Madam Pomfrey touched a place on her stomach her eyes slid upward, looking dreamily at the ceiling. Remus made a sad noise in his throat. Sirius' eyes tightened.

Madam Pomfrey looked up at Remus and made a gesture that she was going to need some privacy. Remus nodded, whispered, "Let me know," and left.

Madam Pomfrey said quietly to the girl, "Child, I'm going to have an examination of your private parts, alright? Say something if I should hurt you."

The girl did not answer.

Madam Pomfrey examined, and allowed Sirius to examine as well; it did not bother her that a man was looking- he was dedicated to his job and the girl was not even pubescent.

The scars on the girl were the first thing that Madam Pomfrey noticed. They were often wiggly and varied in thickness, as if the person making them had been drunk, or blind. They were obviously old, as they were white and soft, though that did not make them any less terrible. The poor girl . . . Madam Pomfrey knew, by the tearing and bruising and the grown-up nature of the sight, that the girl had been raped, and more than once at that.

Sirius scratched that down grimly.

After completing her inspection of the girl's front, and hearing no objection from her, she gingerly flipped the girl over on her front and allowed herself a gasp this time.

"Merlin," Sirius whispered, horrified.

There were long, thin scars all the way across the girl's back, from shoulder to shoulder all the way down. Some of them were as white as the scars on her thighs, and some looked as if they'd been made the day before. Both healers' eyes went to the whip lying on the bed.

"Oh, no."

"I'm telling you, I don't know what's caused it!"

"I've read every book I've got, and I've even checked some out of the library! Hermione told me where to find some, and I read them all- nothing!"

"Not surprising you couldn't find anything, Black, it would be required that you knew how to read before your worthless carcass could be of any help here."

"Now, Severus, that will help nothing. I want to know-"

"And if I knew I would tell you! I've got work I could be doing right now, woman, do not presume to think I am enjoying my time here-"

"And I suppose you think it's all her fault that she can't see, right?"

"I think," Severus Snape drawled silkily, "that it would be in your best interest, Black, to give up this pitiful charade of pretending you know anything and going back to your pubs- clearly you do not possess the information necessary to help this wretched thing. Move!"

Leona had, upon her first inspection at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, been deemed a special case. She could not read, could not write, did not know any social skills whatsoever and froze up whenever anyone touched her. Her hygene had been deplorable, and she had not a single possession to her name except the excessive amount of scars on her back.

However, after one year at the school, she had managed to learn a basic vocabulary such as, "Thank you," and "Yes, ma'am, no, ma'am, yes, sir, no, sir," and "Excuse me, could you tell me what that means?" at which point she would gesture to a word she did not know. Most of the people had been helpful where they could, especially one Hermione Granger. Sirius thought fondly of her. Almost every day for their first year, Hermione would help Leona through her classes and then go to the infirmary with her to collect a potion that would help her sleep. Sirius brewed them sometimes, when he was not working on his studies, but most often Snape brewed them. He would deliver them to the infirmary at the same time that Leona would need them, and Sirius and Hermione would talk while Leona choked down the white-blue potion. Snape would open her mouth, pour it in, and then order her to go to her quarters and sleep. She would nod once, say, "Yes, sir," and then follow Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower.

Of course, none of the four people who had been previousy aware of Leona's condition had doubted that she would be in Gryffindor; where else would she be, if she had managed to live through this ridiculous abuse? Yes, the hat put her there immediately and Hermione made room for her on the seat. Their first year had gone well enough.

The summer after her first year, Leona began working on some basics that she would need for her second year. Everyone, meaning Dumbledore, had decided that it would be good for her if she got a head start on these materials. The girl learned very quickly, and was receptive to new material, but had almost nothing to work off of. It had been Dumbledore himself who had taught Leona her alphabet, complete with pictures for aid and lemon drops for rewards, and her numbers, up to fifty. When she had been in the infirmary more often than not, Sirius had read to her, and she listened. He admitted he was fond of her; Dumbledore had taken pity on her; Snape tolerated her; and Madam Pomfrey loved her.

She had personally lost sleep over the girl. Sirius could see the first day she had come that her heart had been broken, and he knew then that she would spend the rest of her days nursing the girl. Madam Pomfrey had no children, and Sirius wondered if she wasn't trying to remedy that now.

Second year had been interesting enough. Leona had been a bit forlorn when Hermione had been Petrified, and had come to visit her every day in the infirmary. Leona had clung quite tightly to Hermione, as she was one of the very first people to show her kindness. Harry once had told Sirius that he expected they got on so well because, though it was nothing compared to what Leona had been through, Hermione knew what it was like to feel like an outsider. Leona could manage a few decent spells, but Hermione was a prodigy. Sirius often told her she was smart, and she would blush and say thank you, and he would feel pleased for the rest of the day. Leona had not known what to do when Hermione was Petrified. Still, she managed with her studies, and continued to learn to read.

Just then it was Hermione who flounced into the infirmary, looking troubled. Sirius knew she cared for the girl as well, and gestured her forward to find her. Sirius stood behind her with a hand on her shoulder while she tucked a golden chain into her sweater.

If only she knew how much he cared for her . . .

If only Snivellus could remember the only person who'd ever been good to him, and that she had loved him . . .

Sirius scoffed.

When Leona had come to the infirmary, Sirius could tell something was wrong. She had one hand on the wall, and another held out in front of her, and her bottom lip was trembling. She didn't talk very often, so Sirius was surprised when she said, "Hello? I can't see anything."

He rushed over to her, and helped her to the bed, and then called for Madam Pomfrey. The mediwitch had been upset, and Flooed Snivellus and McGonagall, who showed up immediately. Sirius saw the panicked look on Snivellus' face before he hid it, and he knew that their suspicions were the same.

"What's wrong?" Hermione whispered to Sirius while Snape looked into Leona's eyes. Sirius patted the top of her head- it wouldn't do for him to kiss her, now, would it?- and tried to smile. "Not to worry, pet. She's having a bit of trouble seeing, but I'm sure it'll wear off soon. How's Ron and Harry?" he asked, hoping to distract her from her friend's problem. He took her bag for her and pretended to rummage around in it. She smiled up at him while he did so, and he pulled out an essay that had been laying on top. He held it up and gasped. "Hermione!" he said, "An Outstanding on a Potions essay? Oh, I knew you had it in you . . ."

She laughed and tried to snatch the essay away. Snape gave Sirius a murderous look and said, "Move, you fool, I need to find a book of mine . . ."

Then, all at once, when Snape had been attempting to billow by them, he accidentally (though it didn't matter to Sirius) shoved Hermione, causing her to fall back toward Leona's bed. She grabbed the girl's ankle, as it was the nearest thing to her, and Sirius fell on Snape (though it was meant to be more of a tackle) and when McGonagall gave a shout there was a breaking of glass and Hermione began crying. Sirius had a feeling he knew what was happening; there was no way he could be wrong, not after he had become so used to her curly hair, her bookish ways, and the tiny curve of her lips-

Snape pushed Sirius off him, growling about worthless dogs, and when they both looked up, the most important people in their lives were gone.

Oh geez... How was that? I haven't published anything in a while, so please tell me what you thought. If it's utter rubbish I'll take it down, but I'd love to know if anyone is interested. I'm working on chapter two right now! Or... maybe after I eat dinner. Either way, review and let me know what you think!
Much love,
-Paige Allen