AN: This fic is extremely dark and features some themes that might trigger people, so please proceed with caution. Snape is pretty much deranged at the beginning of this fic, completely obsessed with punishing HG for saving him during the Final Battle; he does not know how to function without someone telling him what to do or how to behave and have given into his madness. Some things happen behind the scenes, eventually, like that he actually gets help for his PTSD. In this HG is a victim and falls under a category I would describe as Stockholm Syndrome, in her intrigue and insatiable need for SS. I do not recommend this type of relationship to anyone, ever. Although I know people who have healthy BDSM lifestyles, this is not an example of one. Their relationship is not healthy- and eventually it does improve, but even with a "happy ending" I would not consider them cured. They would have a really long road ahead of them in terms of their psyches for sure. Thanks for reading!
Prologue: Edinburgh
Stepping quietly but hurriedly, Hermione wrapped her cloak a little tighter around her body, refusing to look up, refusing to see who might be approaching at the other end of the close. Instead, she pulled the hood over her hair, feeling the chill in every part of herself down to her toenails, even the ones she was missing. Finally, after descending the hundred steps, she saw her destination, a graveyard, a hideout. But she didn't make it because suddenly a hand grabbed her arm, pulling her swiftly from the bottom stair, forcing her to stumble slightly.
"What do you think you are doing?" He whispered callously in her ear. "Did you really think no one would recognize you?" Snapping her arm back and pushing her hard against the stone wall, almost breaking her fingers.
"I no longer care. " She replied, giving no resistance, allowing him to practically break her arm and hand.
"You should, worse men than me are on these streets tonight. It will be child's play with me compared to them." His mouth was so close to her ear, she could feel his tongue enunciate words, the mist between his mouth and her ear causing chills to course down her spine.
"I've experienced worse, but you know that already, don't you, Severus." In a matter of seconds, she felt her wrist snap, the force of his machinations overpowering her weak resistance, but she didn't squirm, she didn't fight, instead she pushed herself further against the wall, the cold stone an odd comfort.
"You should have let me die, Miss. Granger, or at least tried to avoid me. It's almost as though you aren't...even...trying." Each enunciated syllable a broken finger before finally letting her go and watching her stumble evidently in pain but she had no tears, no visible sign of pain; an anomaly in his eyes. It didn't matter how many times he hurt her, she never showed signs of weakness or frailty.
"You don't deserve the peace of death." She hissed, casting a spell to produce a brace and mending her broken bones. With that, she disapparated back to Arthur's Seat, the perfect view of her favorite town. Every time they happened upon each other, Severus Snape broke something, her legs, her nose, her hands, her fingers. He was never kind and he certainly didn't care to help her in any circumstance, at least not proactively; yet, just now when Yaxley was steps away, he pulled her away from danger, hurting her of course but stopping her probable torture or death. She felt the scar he'd given her the first time they'd met, his jagged knife cutting her from mouth to right ear. What kind of game was he playing and why couldn't she stop herself from trying to win?