Disclaimer: Do I look like JKR? No? Good, because I'm not her and Harry Potter belongs not to me || shrugs || never will. . .

A/n: first SSxHG fic, so be nice please! Flames are welcome but give me a valid reason || WHY || I SUCK, ok? Don't tell me I suck and not justify your answer. I'm very open to advice and comments, so feel free.

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW

I am begging!

SUMMARY: Severus and Hermione. Hermione's been raped, and decides to die, knowing she's got nothing to live for. Can Severus change that? What can he do? How will he convince to Hermione that life still has something to offer. . .to both of them?

TAKING OFF YOUR CLOTHES

I have lost so much in that war. My friends, my family. . . my beauty.

What I have left is a scarred, almost soul-less being. Have I told you? Scars covered my body. My body that has seen so much, so much that I don't want to recall, but whose scars show themselves each time I reach back into memory.

They're imprinted onto my body, all over me. . . everywhere on me.

It was dark, I was naked.

The bed I was on was warm and I shivered, fearing the heat of the body beside me. I was crying, hot tears of indignation ran down my cheeks. . . tears of shame.

'oh, Harry. . I'm so sorry. . .'I whispered to my dead lover's soul, already resting in heaven.

He had died in the war, but Voldemort's Death Eaters were still at large, still powerful. . .still feared. I was still in the Order and one of my duties was to capture them and bring them directly to Azkaban. I was captured instead.

I was taken somewhere, blindfolded and gagged, I was brought to this room. And I was used over and over again.

I screamed, kicked, bit and spat on them, my body being covered in wounds they inflicted to keep me quiet. I kept on screaming. My body hurt from their abuse, they were laughing.

The darkness had covered me, the darkness had taken me and I screamed into it, feeding it my sorrow, my shame, my disgust. I wanted to shed my body and I wanted to scream, cry, run, die. I wanted to see Harry, to see his face and tell me it was a dream, but he turned out to be the dream. I was still there, in the darkness of that black portal room, screaming at the newest attacker.

Blood gushed out of my wounds as they used me again, I screamed in agony, flailing my arms sideways, searching for something to hit the red-headed man on top of me. Nothing. He began covering my body with trails of disgusting kisses. I screamed, he reached my inner thigh and stroked me again and again. I looked away as another pain took me.

I lost my voice, but screamed more as the blood-splattered sheets around me pooled around my kicking legs. I was left alone, my arms and feet bound, I was positioned so that I was exposed all the time. My arms were bound to the bed-posts and my feet were spread far away from each other. I was shaking.

The bed covers were splattered with dried blood, my hair was sticking to my face. I felt so weak, so vulnerable. So alone, but took refuge in the peace of the silent night, empty of the tears and screams I shed. My suffering had faded into the night.

I don't know how long I was there. The men kept coming. I gave up on struggling, lost in the darkest corner of my mind, trying to find Harry somewhere. I tried to find him and Ron and Ginny, my bestfriends. I tried to find a friendly face, tried to burn their smiling face into my blank, staring eyes, but I failed. All I can see are the hundreds of hungry eyes that kept turning my face to meet theirs in a slobbering kiss.

I was rescued.

I saw the gray outline of a door on my right side, where the bed ended and I saw the floor stretch toward the timid gray light beyond it.

I kept staring at the door, willing for a savior to enter. I prayed and wished and prayed and willed. I kept hoping and hoping that the gray light that seemed bright from my black void would open into startling brilliancy sometime.

I was still wishing in my mind. My lips were bruised and cracked. I had lost my spirit, it had departed from me to find some hope. My blank eyes were still staring at the door.

'oh please. .' I pleaded again. 'please let someone come.' And someone did.

What came next was surprising. Through the blank of my tear-stained and red-swollen eyes, I saw brilliant white light. So bright it illuminated me. I tried to see clearly, blinking several times and brining a small part of my mind back to consciousness. I could make out an outline of a tall man heading towards me with his wand raised. A heavy weight on top of me that hadn't noticed suddenly disappeared as the tall shadow approached.

My eyes were beginning to turn to darkness, my eyelids were slowly closing. I couldn't see anything, not that I have, and my mind became perfectly blank. I felt nothing. My aching body disappeared and I became light, floating through. I was dimly aware of someone. . . carrying me in their arms, a cloak draped over me. I could feel my hundred wounds screaming in protest as they were reopened, even with the greatest care this person gave me. I could feel my body screaming and flailing even as my mind began to wonder away to its memories. I could feel myself resisting, screaming out over and over again.

I could feel myself being hushed like a child, and my hand groping for the person's face. Subconsciously, I recognized his features perfectly, having seen him and known him for the longest time.

I could smell him from the familiar, yet faint smell, he emitted. My body relaxed. My mind gratefully rested, giving up its aches and burdens and shame as it collapsed from exhaustion.