Au; WARNING! This story is about Snape raping Hermione. If you don't like it or are a victim of sexual assault, DON'T READ THIS! If you read this & you are under eighteen please don't tell me.
Disclaimer; if I owned Harry Potter, would I be writing shit like this?
Rating; highest possible on this site, M or something.
What I Did
I reclined in my chair, slowly twisting a bottle of dusty Oblivion. I thought of her…
Large brown eyes once filled with such love & kindness. I loved to see her smile. She used to smile for me. Now she can't bear to look at me, be in the same room as me. In her eyes I can see it all, the guilt, shame & loss. I regret what I did now. If I had waited, she would've come to me willingly, but as per usual I couldn't wait. She felt so good, small child-like hands trembling, trapped into my advances.
Once she had begged for it, craved what I could give her. It took just one touch to burn her, render her under my command. It didn't matter what I did to her in my anger or simply out of spite. All she wanted was me. But I was an older man who could never truly satisfy her. & when she found a real, fair relationship, I set out to ruin everything she had. I nearly destroyed her, beating her until she swore & screamed for me to stop. Soon I merely smashing her into the ground wasn't enough. I wanted what I had always wanted. Her innocence & I got it, before the red-head blood traitor had a chance. She was mine, I made sure of that. The red-head weasel left, warned off but my hand. No one else dared to touch her, I made sure of that. Still she was never the same; I had always known it would change her mind about me. She no longer thought of me in the brave, good way she used to.
Once I had warned her, told her how dangerous & controlling I was. She had laughed & kissed me, saying she could deal with whatever I did. I wonder if she knew than just how far I would go. I wonder if I went to her room now & just lay with her if she would forgive & forget. I wanted her too, so badly. I wish I hadn't forced her, just waited until once again she burned for my touch. Now she was forever turned away from me, flitching every time my hand accidently brushed her side.
Silently I placed the dusty bottle back on the shelf & stretched. I wasn't drunk but I would have what I wanted. I left, heading through the dark corridors toward her room. I hoped she would forgive me.
If you actually read this far, you really don't have to write a review.
And the only reason I am writing this kind of story is for therapeutic reasons. Think of that what you will.