a/n: hi everyone!
time for a dark and depressing story, because that's what I tend to write.
heh…
anyway, I knew I wanted to write something of this variety, but it took a bit for me to figure out how this was going to work, and I'm not completely sure even of what I'm even doing here. I'm not sure what pairings I'll be doing in this story, but it's probably going to involve Dramione and Harry/Ginny, seeing as those are my usual ships.
So oh well.
anyway…. let's start the story, everyone :)
(warning for vaguely described rape/sexual assault and abuse, self harm, depression, eating disorders, anxiety, character death, and the like throughout this story.)
NOTE: This is an AU where Voldemort is dead and gone forever.
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Head Girl Hermione Granger went down the corridors at a brisk pace, hurrying to get back to the common room after her nightly after-curfew rounds. She was tired out of her mind and she couldn't wait to collapse in her four-poster bed and cuddle Crookshanks to sleep—
A shout came from around the bend in the corridor, and she came to a stumbling stop.
A whimper, followed by a groan. A sickening feeling began to rise in Hermione's stomach, and she cast a silent Disillusionment Charm on herself before tiptoeing around the bend in the corridor to find exactly what she had feared.
The door to an abandoned classroom had been haphazardly opened and not-quite-closed, and inside a girl had been tied using magic to one of the desks, a shadowy figure of a boy standing over her.
Hermione felt bile rise in her throat. She forced away the memories prodding at her defenses, forced away the monsters in her head that were forcing to come alive.
"Stupefy!" she whispered, and the boy never saw the Stunning Spell coming.
The girl cried out. "P-Please… don't…"
"P-Please… don't, R-Ron, I c-can't…"
Hermione cringed and forced the memory away.
"Come on, it's okay," she said in a soothing voice. Mustering a happy memory, she sent a Patronus to Professor McGonagall, getting her to come down and take care of the situation. These things happened more than they ought to, and there was even special policies to take care of these situations. Hermione set herself to the task of freeing the girl, who had passed out right there on the desk, and soon McGonagall had arrived and sent the tired Head Girl back to Gryffindor Tower, despite much protesting on Hermione's part.
An hour later, the seventh-year girl had decided to take a shower, trying to make herself feel better. She tried to ignore the scars all over herself, but it was hard when mirrors were all over the damn showers and—
"Mmm, 'Mione, you're late," a purring voice said. Through her thoughts, she hadn't even heard the shower curtains open, and she cursed herself for leaving her wand out on the counter outside the shower.
Stupidstupidstupid, she cursed herself.
The shower turned off and suddenly she was dry and bare and she had fallen to the ground, her skull hitting the side of one of the sinks, the door locking, those terribly familiar hands running down her skin, fondling her, the sound of robes falling to the ground…
She shut it out. She shut it all out, she tried not to feel, tried not to listen to the panting grunts of the boy above her. Tried not to feel her limp body as it thumped again and again and again…
And then it was over. And Ron cradled her body and gently clothed it, and she felt herself being carried to the common room couch and being laid down upon it, a whispered, gentle goodnight in her ear, a soft kiss upon her forehead…
And sometimes Hermione wondered if it was just a dream after all.
.
It was another day, and Hermione clothed herself while feeling his hands upon her. Unclothing her, ripping off her panties and bra, throwing her robes at a distant corner. Her hands struggling to rise to cover herself but they couldn't cover her skin… her miles and miles of pale, bruised skin…
She cast glamours on the skin not covered by her school uniform and she headed down to breakfast, those words echoing in her head, to act normal, be normal, because she could let no one know. She would be punished if anyone knew.
She felt his hand on her thigh at breakfast and she knew not to move. She closed her eyes. She willed it all away.
She was breaking in two.
A hoot woke her from her forced daze, and she opened her eyes to see an owl in front of her. Ron reached for the envelope, but something inside of her snatched it away in time. She was almost too afraid to look up, to see the dark glint in his eyes that told her that she would be punished for rebelling against him.
She tore open the letter, some feeling inside of her telling her not to look, telling her not to read the letter…
But she did anyway, because she had to know.
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
We are sorry to inform you that your parents/guardians, Richard and Jean Granger, have passed away—
Hermione snapped the letter closed. It crumpled into a ball within her pale, bony fingers and dropped to the ground, but Hermione didn't see this.
She didn't see anything but encroaching darkness as she walked out of the Great Hall.
The tears never fell.
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a/n: WOW, Ron turned out more OOCish than I'd thought! Heh… oh well.
(The names of Hermione's parents are not actually known, however, it's also a custom to name the middle name of a girl after her mother's first name, so I went upon that.)
GO READ THE WHISPERS EVERYONE! IT WILL HAVE WEEKLY UPDATES AND I REALLY REALLY WANT PEOPLE TO READ IT