AN: I do not and will never own Harry Potter ):
This is the first story i have ever published on fan fiction and i would love to know what you think of it.. just dont put me down too badly lol.
This is not a one shot and it does have a story line that will emerge even more as i publish more. If you wish to see a romance please tell me who you would like to see it with (: i just can't decide. Thankyou for reading and i hope you enjoy!
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I screamed and screamed. There was no release. Every hour of the day I was tortured, trained. This is what the so called good side has turned too.
They aim to cut away my soft exterior, but what they don't realize in the process they have drained away the essence of me.
My name is Hermione Granger.
My name is Hermione Granger.
MY NAME IS HERMIONE GRANGER.
If I remind myself often enough maybe I will keep a small part of myself in the end. Or all that will be left is an empty shell of a girl who once was, and never will be again.
For you to understand how I have so completely lost myself I must take you back to the very beginning of my story as an eleven year old girl going from muggle life to a witch.
I was often teased due to my bushy hair, slightly too large teeth and my anti-social tendencies. Who would want to run around in circles for hours if they could read!
This alone was enough to classify me as a reject but when my magic occasionally manifested and did random acts on its own I knew I was special, unfortunately it was a special that no one but my parents truly appreciated. This made me an outsider.
I was so excited to receive my Hogwarts letter and thought, for once; I will have a place where I belong. AS a girl who liked to be prepared I read all my subject books as soon as I bought them and Hogwarts: A History more times then I can count. After all if I knew all the rules I couldn't displease anyone. This however was not so.
I pleased all my teachers, well all besides Professor Snape, but as the saying goes, children can be so cruel, and I quickly learnt a new type of bullying. Hexes were often shot at me from a distance, in a dark corridor.
I was the bushy haired brat. Little Miss-Know-It-All. Yet again I had failed spectacularly at making friends. "Too bossy," they said. "Trying to show everyone up," stated others. "Think she knows everything". "Filth mudblood dirtying the path," these Slytherins, the meanest of the lot stated.
When I was rescued from the troll after hearing my own house members tease my "uppity manners" by Harry Potter, the infamous boy-who-lived and Ronald Weasley his new best friend I thought, finally.
I had found a niche, a group who appreciated me for being me. So I loved them. Unconditionally. They were always there to support me, and so I was always there for them.
This led me into my current… Predicament.
Harry faced the Dark Lord again and again, but neither became victorious.
There were heavy casualties on both sides, but while the Dark quickly built up their troops, we as the Order of the Phoenix were slower and were no longer able to recoup our losses.
After the violent death of Bill and Fleur Weasley I swore an unbreakable vow I would assist in any way possible against Lord Voldemort.
If I had realized what they were thinking I never would have sworn it.
Hell, I might even have meandered over to Malfoy Mansion and requested to join the death eaters, after all they still torture and cause pain but at least they are open about it. No, Harry, Ron, Remus and Sirius were much more subtle and malicious in their insanity.
The morning after I made that oh so foolish vow I was kidnapped from my bed in number 12 Grimuald Place.
I do not no where they took me, i dont think i will ever know, I didn't even realize it was them that took me. I looked up at the masked men surrounding me, staring at my nakedness, for they had stripped me of my night gown and tied me down to a table.
They cursed me with "silencio", however they did not allow me the innate peace of closing my eyes and hiding from their actions deep inside where no one could touch me, oh no I could feel all but could not move.
I could scream until my throat was hoarse but not a sound escaped my lips.
I could beg for the dark, blindness, but my eyes remained open and fixated.
They took my virginity that night.
But not only that but they took my innocence. That deep seated belief that nothing bad will actually happen to you.
It is the sort of thing you hear about but rarely occurs. Especially not to you. That so called knowledge that your well being and safety is first and foremost in your friends mind. That sex is something beautiful; to be cherished with those you love. Oh, no. They would not leave me with even these pitiful hopes, no vestige of innocence to remain.
A week after my initial kidnapping and gang raping by the people closest to me I was released from The Table.
That is how I referred to it in my mind. The Table. It was not so much the pain I was suffering through as they furiously rutted above me so much as who was doing the furious rutting.
I had imagined that one of them would be the one to take my virginity, but never like this.
No one ever imagines this.
They didn't ever speak to me and only called me Leila.
As if the moment I made that vow Hermione Granger ceased to exist and only Leila remained.
It was fitting, as they were training me to infiltrate the death eaters and I was to become darkness itself.
The first week I was trained to withstand any sexual abuse the deatheaters might use, but the next week was by far worse.
I was locked in a room, barely clothed, wand less and virtually defenseless.
"Crucio!" "Crucio!" "Crucio!"
The words shouted at me just blended into pain, the kind of overwhelming pain where you wonder whether you will live, and if so, escape with your sanity.
"Crucio!" "Crucio!" "Crucio!"
Just when I thought I would be allowed the escape of death they would stop, drag me back, tie me to The Table, only to come the next morning and begin the process again.
It was only after they had totally broken me did they begin to train me.
By then I was so far gone I would have done anything.
I learnt the most violent of the Dark Arts, became more than adapt at pleasuring someone while my mind drifted, and gradually developed what one might say, a split personality.
Leila was the one to withstand the torture as she was strong enough, she was the one to learn the Dark Arts as her soul was so steeped in violence, in darkness, that it was gradually the only magic she could do, and she was the one to protect Hermione from the harshest of memories.
She was an escape, a release, and I, Hermione, was the one trying to remember who I once was, and who I could have been.
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