Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will. Damn it.
A/N This is under angst and romance, however it will have some occasional humorous parts. Why destroy the seriousness of it, you may ask? If I don't it's going to be depressing, and I'm not emo.
The SecretHermione Granger was at home, enjoying the book Of Potions and Notions by Miranda Arendales when her father came home. She tried to hide what he was reading, but it was too late. He snatched the book out of her hand, and even though he hadn't even said a single word, she could smell the whiskey permeating the air around him. This was trouble.
"What have I told you about reading these books in my house?"
Hermione stayed silent, knowing from past experience that attempting to defend herself only made things worse.
"Didn't I tell you that you were never to read these in my house?"
Repetitive, Hermione thought. It was true he had, but she'd been reading them every summer since she was accepted to Hogwarts, she'd just never gotten caught before. She was caught now, and completely screwed. Just get it over with.
The thought wasn't completely formed in her mind when he grabbed two handfuls of her bushy hair and pulled her down from her seat. Hermione tried to imagine she was somewhere else. This method had worked for many years before, but it was getting harder now. Now, he power was more uncontrollable for some reason, and she found if she was very upset and not concentrating on what she was doing, it would surge and often glasses would shatter or other small things of that nature.
Her father kicked her stomach, bringing her out of her reverie and she felt the pain of it shoot up her side. Certainly a rib had broken with that one. He pulled her up again by her hair and yelled indistinguishable words in her face. His putrid breath made it hard for her to breathe and she felt a hot sting in her eyes. Don't you dare cry, don't give him that satisfaction. He flung her down again, and her head bounced off the tile ground.Hermione didn't make a sound.
"You stupid witch? Why the hell are you different? You're mother and I aren't like you? How the hell did you happen? Sell your soul to the devil or something didn't you? You always wanted so badly to be different, well now you are." He kicked her again. "Do you like it?"
Oh, mother, please come home.
As if she heard her daughter's silent plea, Jane Granger walked through the door. She looked at her daughter lying on the floor and her husband standing above her, drunk and breathing heavily without blinking an eye.
"Mother, please, help me."
"Is it really worth it? I think you're beyond help."
That's when the tears fell. When her mother put herself before her daughter.
Hermione woke, drenched with sweat and clutching her side. This most recent beating had been haunting her dreams since it happened three nights ago. Just a day before she was brought to the Grimmauld Place. Her side still radiated with pain. She was thankful that she had her own room this time, afraid that were she sharing with Ginny, the girl would be alerted by her moans at night, or even worse, see the bruises that her clothing usually hid. She'd been hiding her bruises with clothes since she started primary school.
She got up and walked to the bathroom that everyone on her floor shared. Closing the door and wishing it had a lock, she lifted her shirt carefully. The bruises still hadn't faded. How could that be? She never heard the door open.
Severus Snape couldn't sleep. Again. The fruitlessness of attempted slumber was making his even more of a bastard that usual, and he knew it. He walked to the bathroom. Odd, the door was closed. He opened the door silently, so if it was occupied he hoped they would not see him.
He saw Hermione Granger, stomach exposed, fingers softly skimming the surface of a large bruise that covered most of her side. Her wince of pain wasn't lost on him, neither were the shadows under her eyes and the other, smaller bruises exposed on her back. Those weren't bruises that came from falling or any other accidental occurrence. Those were purposefully inflicted. Someone had obviously gone through an awful lot of trouble to harm her. He closed the door quietly and went to his room quickly. While he was there, he gathered a bruise diminishing potion, a dreamless sleep draught, and a book that he thought she might find useful.
Hermione returned to her bedroom, as tired as ever and found that something was different. In the middle of her bed, there was a book, and two vials of potion. More interested in the book than anything else, she picked it up. Self-Defense Spells by Anaxandro Verbaux. A note fluttered out. She stooped, wincing in pain as she did, and picked it up.
You've more use for this than I.
Well, first chapter down. Many more questions to be answered later. REVIEW…please?
