Hey, guys! Bit of a different flavour to In the Begining, hope you all enjoy. And obviously, I don't own anything or else I'd be rolling in money and not writing fanfiction :p

Prologue

She thought about leaving her room, leaving the dormitory, but what would it do? Everyone was at the Quidditch match – Gryffindor vs Slytherin, which always attracted a huge turn-out – which was exactly why he had engineered for her to be caught misbehaving and punished by being refused attendance at the game. Not that she even liked Quidditch, but she did like being around crowds.

She prowled around her room – the single room that she hated. He had engineered it for her, so he could creep into her room unnoticed in the dead of night. Since she was only a third-year, and single rooms were reserved for prefects, head boys and girls and Quidditch captains – none of which were below fifth year – there had been a lot of resentment over it, a lot of talk she had only gotten the room since she was a Black. She supposed he had engineered that, too. Not only did he have her physically separated from her housemates, but socially separated by a wall of resentment.

She checked her watch. The game had been going for a while now – and when it came to those two teams, it meant they had barely warmed up. He would be coming soon.

She heard his footsteps less than half an hour later. "You've been a very naughty girl," he said, eying her critically. There was too much of her father in her for his liking, but then again, that was part of the appeal. She had inherited more of her father's muggle looks than her mother's Black ones. If she had looked more like her mother or aunts, he wouldn't enjoy doing what he did to her nearly so much. "You've been a very naughty girl," he repeated, taking deep satisfaction out of the terror in her eyes. "You need to be punished."

She tended not to fight or protest as much as she had when he had first come to her. It was a pity, he had enjoyed it, although her submission was its own kind of thrill. "Please..." she begged, although the bulge in his pants was already apparent. "It hurt last time."

He ignored her and pushed her onto the bed, twisting her around so she was on her stomach. She didn't fight him; she had too much experience in the consequences of fighting him. Which was kind of a pity; he had rather enjoyed stunning and cursing her into submission.

He tore of her jeans – silly girl, you think she would have learnt to wear a skirt by now, or maybe she liked having her clothing torn off – and yanked off her panties. She whimpered when he pushed his fingers inside her, but made no other protest. The more she protested, the more she resisted, the more he hurt her.

He unzipped his pants and let them fall, along with his underwear, down to the ankles. He stroked himself briefly to a full erection, then grabbed her hips and plunged ruthlessly inside her. She gasped and bit her lip, determined not to scream. Let it be over soon, she prayed. Please, let it be over soon...

He finished a few minutes later and withdrew quickly. "Go have a wash," he said, the disgust in his voice obvious. "You look like a tramp." She heard him zipping up his pants and then leaving. She didn't get up until several minutes after the door shut behind him. Then she wrapped herself in her house robe and curled up on her bed for a few minutes. She needed a shower. But right now, she couldn't bring herself to move.

For two years, it had been going on. Two years, since just after she had started at Hogwarts. What every witch and wizard in England said was the best years of their life were her worst. Not a month went by without him engineering time alone with her – sometimes just to feel her up, others to force himself on her. And she couldn't tell anyone because he was so powerful within the wizarding community and no-one would believe her, the daughter of a muggle-born wizard – even if she was a Black.

She started to cry. She would never give him the satisfaction of crying while he was taking what he wanted from her – at least, not these days – but once he had gone, it brought her some small measure of relief. Please, Merlin, let it be over, she pleaded with some vague deity. Let him lose interest in me and let it be over.


She was crying again, Charlie Weasley thought in frustration and disappointment. Crying and trying to hide it from him. How she thought that was possible when he was less than a meter away from her, he didn't know, but she always cried after sex. And not because she was happy. He had figured it was natural after the first time – he didn't know anything about these things, but he'd heard that it could be painful and awkward for girls – but she cried Every. Single. Time. And she never wanted to be touched afterwards. In fact, she barely wanted to be touched during it. And he'd been assured by his older brother Bill that girls loved being touched. So it was an ongoing source of frustration to him that he loved touching and affection and she tolerated only the bare minimum that it took to keep him happy.

He wrapped his arms around her. She didn't pull away from him, but she lay stiffly in his arms. "Nymphodora," he said pleadingly, "tell me what you like, i want you to enjoy it."

The name had slipped, though he knew how much she detested it. The problem was, he disliked calling his girlfriend by her last name, even though the entire student body – and some of the teachers – did. It seemed so impersonal. "Don't call me that," she snapped.

"Sorry."

She wriggled free of his embrace. "I should get back to my dorm," she said. "Sprout doesn't like us being out after curfew."

Charlie knew this to be a lie – or at least a bending of the truth. While it was technically against school rules to have students out of bed after curfew for anything but the most important of reasons, the staff, and in particular the House Heads, tended to turn a blind eye to established, overaged couples like Charlie and Tonks. So long as they didn't flaunt their relationship in front of younger students, neither Sprout or McGonagall would care much if she spent the night with him. The reality was that Tonks herself didn't want to spend the night with him, and that hurt more than he cared to admit.

He walked her to the door of the Gryffindor quarters, and kissed her goodnight, with a few comments made from the Fat Lady who guarded it. "I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked her hopefully, and she nodded, knowing how much he liked being with her.

She liked being with him, too. She had known him and his family all her life, and he had been her best friend for a long time before they became an item. She had tried hard to return his affections, but everytime he touched her sexually or romantically, she felt indifferent at best, and often repulsed.

It wasn't Charlie's fault, of course. It was his. Dumbledore had found out about it one day after her House Head, Professor Sprout, and several of her teachers had expressed their concern about her withdrawn, anti-social personality. A talented Legilimens, he had read her traumatised mind easily and promised her that the perpetrator, while powerful, would never be in a position to hurt a Hogwarts student again. Her parents had been told, and they had vowed he would never go anywhere near her again. But it had come after two years of brutal violation and she couldn't take any pleasure out of being touched. She wanted to, so much – she saw other girls with their boyfriends who enjoyed kissing and hugging and being felt up – but Charlie's touch always left her cold. There wasn't anything else in the world that she wanted more than to feel like any other girl, but more and more she wondered if there was someone out there who was sensitive enough, who she would be attracted to enough that she could enjoy a real relationship with him.