Thought I'd expand the idea of nasty, supposedly good characters, and show off the good qualities in Snape while I'm at it – and focus all the attention on Hermione.

Tell me what you think darlings?

Ciao!

Tell Me Lies

From My Little Black Book

Chapter 1 - The Encroaching Depth of Learned Pain

Not again. Backing into a corner, the dark night in the library surrounding her, she briefly wondered if this would be as bad as last time or if they'd be nice if she behaved. She hoped they'd be quick, she'd give anything for them to leave her with only what she was capable of healing herself.

Two figures stepped into the lantern light, their faces shadowed. She didn't need to see their faces to know who was there.

"Come on 'Mione, you know what we need." The one to the left whined, a pleading note in his familiar voice.

"Yeah 'Mione, it's been so long for us. You can help us; you always do such a good job. So... devoted." Both voices snickered at those last words.

"Be good Hermione, we might be nice to you if you're a good girl." With that the other pounced, clapping his hand over her mouth as the other put up wards and silencing spells, some rather rare and powerful... and more than a few dark. She didn't struggle; there were repercussions from fighting what was going to happen, and it saddened her she knew this from experience.

"Now mate lets open up our girls legs" said the one who did the warding. Her school blouse was ripped open, her bra pulled down to expose her breasts, her skirt lifted high around her waist, and her underwear ripped clean from her body to show to the world a curling patch of chestnut hair.

"Such a sweet looking thing" came from the big male holding her, the one spreading her out and positioning her over him. A wand rested on her hip, an incantation murmured. Obviously they intended not to torture her with that one again.

A wand handle rested against her core, slipped inside, was wound around to stretch her. Another muttered spell and she was slick and wet with lube. The wand pulled out, travelled further down, and another chant was cast against her. Oh, but they always took her together, she was the only one to take this treatment.

"Think she's ready for us yet mate?" asked the wand wielder.

"Don't think so, she hasn't asked us yet. Have you Hermione? Go on, ask us 'Mione" a smack between her thighs had her yelp quietly, not giving them the benefit of a scream from her lips. Though she knew she would have to later. Another slap, this time across her face, and a crack of her head into the floor, being pulled up by her hair was enough for her to give up.

"Please boys, please? I'm ready."

"Please what Hermione?" they asked together, as they moved into position. "You know you have to say it 'Mione."

'Oh Sweet Circe and Merlin help me tonight' she prayed as she uttered those hated words:

"Please fuck me, Harry & Ron. Please fuck me!"

She knew they grinned at each other, knew it like clockwork. Knew that twist across their faces appeared when they got what they wanted.

"With pleasure."

Her scream tore into the night, vaulted in on itself in the dome of silence as both of them thrust inside her at once, groaning at her tightness despite the preparation she'd been given. They slammed her into them, pulling on her in time with each other, biting her, slapping her, giving her more than she could take. Her head flew to the ground as she was pummelled, ripped back skywards by her hair, only to be forced down again with the strength of their thrusts.

They ripped into her insides, stretching her. She thought maybe her body would become accustomed to this onslaught, but they always left her long enough to make sure she was good and tight the next time.

One flipped her over, her perched on top of him as the other slapped her again. Her prised open her mouth with his fingers, and held her open as he proceeded to fuck her throat. He never cared she threw up a little, and was forced to swallow it again not to choke as he continued his torture. She'd be living on soup for days after this.

She was moved around again, the other slipping himself in her mouth, and the other back to fucking her ass and pussy, switching every couple of strokes. They never cared to look after her body, they knew she'd pick up the pieces after they'd finished.

She knew they were almost finished when both pulled out, flipped her over, and one moved over her and one behind her. The whole idea was to stretch her enough for this.

"Still good mate?" one asked the wheezing other.

"Of course, just a bit out of practice. Next time let's bring the knives, I'm getting bored with her like this."

"Fair enough mate, we'll have to remember that then. Ready?"

"Ready."

And they both shoved themselves inside her pussy. She whined in the pain of it, fell and was hit for not supporting her own weight.

"You know what to do Hermione. Now get up."

In the agonising moment before they moved she picked herself up and held her body up. She was roughly slammed further down by her hair, and picked up again by her hips, only to be pushed back again. The tug of war snapped through her spine, jammed into her gut, jolted her neck and spread her wider open for them. The sting shot through her chest, up into her head, and spurted out her mouth in scream after scream after scream, all of them echoing hollowly against the wards.

The speed increasing, she heard them groaning and shuddering together, thanking god it was going to be over soon. The old saying held true though - it always got worse before it got better. They arched up further into her, shoving hard and fast and deeper, her insides moving from the onslaught.

She couldn't stop them, couldn't help herself, she was just flesh and blood and skin and bone, against greed and strength and power and want. Her body remembered every punch, every break, every tear, and it could not fight them anymore. Going limp in their hands, she gave herself over to the past and the pain, immersing herself in it, her awareness fading into their continuing pounding.

They shuddered and groaned in a final plunge together, and while stilling themselves, they realised her unconsciousness. Not a word was exchanged as one felt for pulse and found none. The shared look had them moving, scourgifying and taking down wards as fast as their wands would flick.

They left her where she lay.