Summary: See Chapter One

A/N: This is rated R for a reason, the pairing is Harry & Hermione. It's slightly AU.

Big thanks go out to ParticleAccelorator for the fabulous beta-reading. This a better story as a result.

Reviews are coveted (in case you were wondering).

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the storyline.

xoxox

Hermione discovered just how lonely and isolated her little cottage was after Harry left. Before he'd come to her she'd found it peaceful and quiet, a sanctuary against the outside world. Now, she longed to hear his voice filling the rooms, and feel his laughter just behind her ear. She missed his scent, as if she were an animal whose mate had gone away or been killed.

The t-shirt he'd borrowed from her had been thrown into her laundry pile, but she'd retrieved it and had been wearing it at night. Her lip curled and she silently berated herself for being such a pathetic woman, but on the other hand, she reasoned, she had no real way of knowing that he actually would come back, and she would be less than human if she didn't miss him.

xoxox

For his part, Harry had apparated quickly back to Grimmauld Place where he kept his promise of not revealing Hermione's whereabouts. As he'd predicted, though, this did not sit well with Ron. It upset Ginny and Luna as well, but Ron took it particularly badly. They had, after all, been a trio of best friends. All of a sudden, Ron felt like an unwanted hanger-on.

"Look," Harry said, trying to soothe Ron's feelings, "she's been through an incredibly difficult time. She would only tell me what happened if I promised not to tell anyone where she was and exactly what occurred, and believe me, you really don't want to know anyway."

"That's easy for you to say!" Ron scoffed, as the four of them sat around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place.

"How did she look?" Ginny asked, ignoring Ron's dramatics. There was concern in her voice.

Here Harry paused, but then admitted, "A little too thin, but for the most part, okay."

"Is she still in England?" Ron pressed.

"Ron-" Luna said, a little reproachfully.

"Ron, try to understand. Think about the worst things that could possibly happen to a woman in the hands of an enemy and then multiply that by ten," or three months, Harry thought grimly. Little Arthur, Ron and Luna's son, toddled into the kitchen in his walker and shouted, "A-La-La!"

The four of them sat quietly for a moment until Luna got up and retrieved Arthur from the floor and returned with him to the table. The baby's red hair was abundant.

"But even if that were the case, there's no shame in it. Why stay away? Does she really think we'll judge her?" Ron continued to argue. "Us!"

Harry shook his head. He'd known this was going to be difficult, but he hadn't expected such resistance. How could he explain without spilling the beans about Snape? Then, with a flare of hatred in his chest, he asked himself why he was protecting Snape. Did the man really deserve it? Hadn't he, after all, brutalized Hermione in the most terrible way?

Crookshanks chose that moment to saunter into the kitchen to join the group. Ron made a face and stood up, understanding that he wouldn't be getting the answers he wanted from Harry.

xoxox

At the end of the week, Hermione unlocked the door to her tiny house and walked inside. The little muggle book shop had been as quiet as usual and it had been hours since she'd had anyone to talk to. She missed Harry more than she'd thought possible. Her body ached for him and she cursed it as weak.

She dropped her bag by the door and moved into the kitchen for something to eat, and grudgingly admitted to herself that she missed Ron, too. And Ginny and Luna. Harry had said that Luna and Ron were expecting their second baby in seven months time. She was suddenly very curious about their first. Why hadn't she thought to ask Harry if it was a boy or girl? How old was it now?

Hermione opened a cupboard and saw that it was still bare. "Pretzels again," she decided, grabbing a bag off the mostly empty shelf and making a mental note to buy food. She poured herself a glass of wine and moved into the sitting room. It was so quiet.

Before falling into her cushiony chair, she snapped the radio on and lit a fire in the grate. She'd never replaced the wand Voldemort had destroyed at her capture. She didn't use magic at all anymore and lighting the fire took a few minutes.

The book she'd put down before going to bed the night before was exactly where she'd left it and Hermione picked it up and had just settled into her soft chair when a knock at the door made her jump. "Harry!" she exclaimed, standing quickly.

xoxox

Harry apparated outside of a gloomy house on the edge of London. It looked near to falling apart. Shingles were missing, shutters were unhinged, the grass was in desperate need of cutting, and the front porch sagged so forcefully under his weight that he wondered if he ought to perform a levitating charm. Wiping his musings from his mind, Harry pounded his fist on the ancient wood of the front door, a fresh wave of anger and revulsion swimming in his chest.

The door swung open and a pair of dark eyes met his green ones. "Potter," was the only greeting, spit out as if it tasted bad.

"Snape," Harry returned the sentiment with his own dose of rancor, but studied his old teacher. There were dark shadows under Snape's eyes and his face was etched with deep lines. His hair was longer than Harry remembered, though just as greasy-looking. Snape's lips were dry and cracked and he looked terribly thin under his heavy robes.

"To what do I owe this honor," Snape said bitingly. There had never been any love lost between them, but at this moment, looking at the man who had cause Hermione so much pain, Harry thought he could easily and quite happily perform more than one Unforgivable curse on Snape.

"I've seen Hermione," Harry replied coldly.

With a scowl, Snape opened the door wide and allowed Harry to enter. The inside of the house was worse than the outside. At first glance it reminded Harry of Snape's old office at Hogwarts. Quickly, his rage flaring on his tongue, Harry turned on the older man and said again, with significance, "I've seen Hermione."

"So you said. How is she?" Snape asked meeting Harry's glowering stare with one of his own.

"How is she?" Harry repeated, his temper almost getting the better of him. He wanted to throttle Snape with his bare hands, the bastard. His fists clenched involuntarily at his sides "How do you think she is?"

Snape turned away at this and moved to stand at the window facing out onto the dingy little street. Harry was surprised. Snape had never backed down from a fight, especially with Harry. "She told you, then?" he asked quietly.

"Of course she did," Harry said scathingly.

"I can only tell you what I told her: I'm sorry."

The words were so simple and so filled with regret that Harry was taken aback for a moment. He quickly recovered, though, and in reply spit, "You're sorry? Sorry! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Yes, I think I do," Snape said quietly, turning around again, steel in his dark eyes. "I've ruined her life, which is why I respected her decision to leave. You, on the other hand, had to be the Boy Wonder again, didn't you? Couldn't leave well enough alone, had to go and save her. Well, congratulations. If you've come to kill me, all I ask is that you do it quickly."

Harry was stunned and momentarily rendered speechless. "You admit that you're to blame?"

"I think Voldemort ultimately deserves a little of the blame," Snape replied sarcastically, "but looking back over these past months, I believe I chose wrongly. Perhaps we would have been better off dead. Perhaps I should have made the decision for us both and killed her before Voldemort had the chance to torture her.

"Anyway," Snape finished, his voice stark and bitter from years of disappointment and pain, "as I said before, if you've come to kill me, do it quickly. I am weak and though I've tried, I could never finish it myself."

"I'm not here to kill you," Harry told him coldly.

"Ahh," Snape sneered. "You think my punishment should be to live on, seeing those things over and over again in my head and heart until one day, sooner rather than later, I hope, I die of natural causes? Very clever, Potter. Very well played, indeed."

Snape's sarcasm rolled over Harry and he suddenly felt very foolish. This was exactly what Hermione had been talking about. Snape was a ruined man; what could Harry possibly do to him that was worse than what he was already suffering?

"She…told me about the child. I'm…sorry," Harry said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I don't want your pity, Potter," Snape growled. "If you've finished with me, then get out."

Harry's back stiffened but he didn't reply at first. "Fine," he said finally. "I'm sorry to have bothered."

"That makes two of us!" Snape shouted at Harry's back as Harry swung the front door open and took the porch steps two at a time. He felt he couldn't get away fast enough.

xoxox

Hermione swung the door wide and instead of the emerald green eyes she'd expected, she found instead the wizened old crone who lived in the next cottage over and who also happened to be her landlady. Hermione's heart sank.

"Hello, Mrs. Blackdash," Hermione said with a tentative smile. It was chilly with the door open and Hermione pulled her sweater closer to her body.

"My dear Miss Granger," said Mrs. Blackdash. "Do you know what day it is?" The old lady was wearing an outfit Hermione could not imagine on anyone else. Army green Wellies with white knee socks poking out the tops, the flowered skirt of a house dress flapping in the cold wind, and over it all, a yellow rain slicker usually seen on sea captains the world over. Her iron gray hair was in curlers, which were wrapped in bright orange netting.

"Friday?" Hermione guessed. Truly, she had no idea what day it was.

"It is, my dear Miss Granger, the sixth. Rent, as you well know, is due promptly each month on the first." There was something about this old woman that reminded Hermione of Professor Umbrage. Her words were delivered with sugar, but Hermione could tell that the underlying emotion was annoyance and resentment.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, blushing. It was not like her to be forgetful about important things like this. "I'll get it for you."

When Hermione had handed over the month's rent and sent Mrs. Blackdash on her way, she sank again into her chair by the fire, missing Harry more than ever.

xoxox

Harry stalked down Snape's front walk trying to decide what to do next. What he wanted to do was apparate to Hermione's little cottage in the north. He missed her. It had been four whole days and now, with the weekend stretching long before him, it was the perfect opportunity for it would kill two birds with one stone. He could avoid Ron a little bit longer and see Hermione at the same time.

But, he reasoned, if Ron was upset now, how would he feel if Harry just went off to see Hermione again and didn't tell him? No, he had to see Ron before going back to Hermione. And, decision made, Harry stopped where he was before Snape's disgusting house and apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

As he'd suspected, Luna was in the kitchen with Ginny preparing dinner. Though they did not all live there together, Grimmauld Place had become a replacement for Gryffindor's Common Room. People already felt at home there because it had been used as the headquarters for the Order for so long, and it was big enough to accommodate as many people as Harry wanted to entertain.

With a clap, Harry appeared in the front hall of his house and called, "Hullo?"

"In here," was the reply he heard and he followed the voice into the kitchen. Little Arthur was back in his walker babbling away at one of the portraits on the wall, while Ginny and Luna directed the dinner preparation from the table with their wands held up.

"Hello, Harry," said Ginny warmly. If there was one thing in his life Harry was truly grateful for it was that he and Ginny had been able to move from relationship to friendship without any real damage done.

"Hi," he replied. "Where's Ron?"

"Upstairs in the study," said Luna. "Sulking over your secret meeting with Hermione, I expect."

Harry colored. "It's not secret. Or at least, it's only secret because she doesn't want anyone there, not even me. I made her promise I could come back and let me tell you, it wasn't easy."

"Tell her we said hello, won't you?" Ginny asked. The care and concern in her eyes reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley and he nodded and said, "Of course I will."

"We miss her," Luna added. "Ask her if she's sure she couldn't stand a bit of female company."

Harry's eyes traveled down Luna's body to where her stomach was hidden under the tabletop and he tried to nod. Perhaps one day Hermione would be ready to see Luna and her children, but not right now. Right now the pain was too raw.

"I'll, uh…just go see what Ron's up to."

Beating a hasty retreat, Harry went upstairs and looked in on Ron in the study. He was stretched out on the couch, the evening edition of The Daily Prophet opened and in front of him.

"Ron," Harry said, knocking on the door.

"Hey," Ron's single word was clipped and brusque.

"You're not still mad, are you?"

"What do you think?"

"Come on," Harry cajoled. "It's not fair. I promised! What do you want me to do?"

"She was my friend, too. You act like you're the only one who was worried about her."

"Of course I know I'm not the only one who was worried about her. I just…I promised. I am trying to get her to come back, but there are…extenuating circumstances."

"Like what," Ron demanded, finally putting the paper aside.

Harry stared at him. How could he tell Ron the whole sad story? Just thinking about it made his stomach roll and his conversation with Snape hadn't done anything to alleviate that. He wished he could kill Voldemort all over again.

"I can't tell you, it's not my place to say" Harry said finally. "I'm sorry."

Ron ignored the apology and picked his paper back up. With a sigh, Harry left the room. He needed to do one last thing before seeing Hermione again.

xoxox

Hermione had been sitting in her chair for almost an hour, but had only read half a page from her book. She couldn't think why her mind was so restless tonight. Her stomach growled and she rubbed it, wishing for more pretzels. The empty bag sat at her feet, mocking her.

She adjusted her feet under her bottom and tried to concentrate. Instead of filling the room with life, the radio had just added a bit of background noise, which only served to underline how alone she was.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at her front door and for the second time that night she jumped. Quickly, she made her way to the door and, remembering her earlier encounter with Mrs. Blackdash, opened the little door that sat over her peephole. Immediately, a smile spread across her face as she saw dark, messy hair and pair of wire-rimmed glasses staring back at her. She slammed the little door shut and swung the big front door open wide.

"Harry! You came back!" she sang out.

"Of course," he replied, opening his arms wide as she sailed into them. He held her body tight against his and breathed in the flowery scent of her hair. After a second or two he whispered against her ear, "I hope you don't mind, but I brought someone back with me."

She stiffened against him and pulled away, anger coursing through her. "You did what?" she snapped, her head jerking around, eyes darting behind him, looking for the unwanted visitor.

"Relax," he said, wishing he'd put it differently and pointing at the little pet carrier beside his feet. "It's just Crookshanks."

Hermione softened immediately. "Crookshanks!" she squealed in honest delight, picking the carrier up and bringing it inside. Harry followed feeling a little guilty for giving her such a scare.

That night, after making love and falling asleep with arms and legs tangled up together, Hermione's dreams were restless. She was suddenly back in the dungeon cell at Voldemort's fortress.

"There!" Bellatrix said, pointing to a corner of the cell where the guards who'd been dragging Hermione behind them dropped her. She collapsed onto the ground and pressed her forehead to the cool stone beneath her. Her hands shook as she brushed her wild hair out of her eyes. Her clothes were torn and filthy and she was bleeding. Her body felt like it had been ripped in two. Her legs hurt from being forced apart and her face still burned at the humiliation of what had happened up in the main rooms. She still couldn't believe that Snape had actually…

"Stand up, Mudblood!" Bellatrix ordered, interrupting her thoughts. Hermione had not realized that Bellatrix was still close by. She stood on shaking legs. She could feel blood trickling down her thighs.

"Clothing is for people," Bellatrix instructed. "You are a dog." Before Hermione could protest or even hurl an insult back at Bellatrix, her clothes fell off her body. Bellatrix had used some kind of charm to do it, but Hermione had no idea which one. She immediately made to cover herself, to the delight of Bellatrix.

"Guards!" Bellatrix snapped. And the two guards who'd dragged Hermione in reappeared and took one arm each, leering at her naked body. The humiliation was too much. Hermione felt tears well in her eyes as a hot blush stole over her skin.

They turned her around so that her naked back faced Bellatrix and then one the guards lifted a hand to sweep her long hair away. Hermione felt his hand linger on her neck and she shuddered with fear. With her back exposed Hermione waited, Bellatrix behind her, terrified of what it could mean. Finally, the searing pain she'd known must be coming arrived and her knees nearly gave out again. Her back was on fire; that was the only way to describe it.

"There," said Bellatrix, sounding exceedingly pleased with herself. The guards dropped Hermione again and again she crumpled to the stone floor, the awful burning on her back wrenching a sob out of her.

Hermione stayed down, her entire body shaking at the abuse it had endured in the past hour. Her shredded clothing lay in tatters under her knees she curled into a ball, hoping Bellatrix and her leering guards would go.

"I have other Mudbloods to welcome before the night is over, dog," Bellatrix said tossing something at Hermione. "But I will see you tomorrow." The promise sent such a jolt of fear through her already shaking body that Hermione jerked awake and sat straight up in bed, her breathing rough and shallow, and sweat pouring off of her.

She clutched her arms around herself and looked wildly about the dark little bedroom.

Harry awoke, too, and sat up as well, realizing immediately that something was wrong.

Hermione was shaking uncontrollably, rocking forward and back, and muttering something he couldn't understand.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, put his head close to hers and whispered, "You're safe, it's all right. Everything's all right. I'm here. You're safe."

Slowly, Hermione's body stopped jerking and her breathing slowed. As she relaxed into him and he gently laid her down again, she rubbed her face and whispered, "I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've had a nightmare like that."

"It's alright," he whispered back. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes. "I'm okay now."

Harry looked unconvinced and propped himself up on an elbow as she watched her trying to calm down.

"How often does this happen?"

"It used to be a lot more often. I used to wake up screaming, which the neighbors didn't care for. Now it's only once a month or so."

He lifted his free hand and stroked her forehead. "Once a month seems like a lot."

She gave him a faint smile and said, "It's over now. Go back to sleep." And, believing that she was right, Hermione rolled over and closed her eyes. After a few moments her breathing slowed and evened, and Harry fell back asleep, too, his arm thrown protectively over her.

Within minutes her subconscious found its way back into the dungeon. This time, though, she was being taken from her cell, was being led down a corridor to a door with a black snake on it. Her wrists were bound in front of her and she was wearing the disgusting shift Bellatrix had flung at her earlier. It was shapeless and too small. When they reached the door one of the guards knocked once and it opened to reveal Snape, dressed all in black as usual. His cold eyes swept over Hermione and she found herself staring at the ground, mortified to be in such a position of weakness before him.

He stepped away from the door and one of the guards pushed her into the little room. It was about the size of her cell, but furnished with a bed and a table and chair. The guards left and Hermione was alone with Snape. He unbound her wrists and she moved as far away from him as possible, pressing herself against the far wall.

"Granger," he said quietly and she stiffened. His use of just her surname was indicative of their transcendence over the polite niceties they'd used at Hogwarts. "Miss Granger," was something he would probably never say again, and with good reason. She was no longer his student.

He grimaced but nodded at her reaction. After what he'd done how could he expect anything different? "I'm sorry," he said, wishing he could take it all back, make another choice.

In that moment up in the main rooms he had thought that the side of good was a higher cause, and that being Harry Potter's best friend, she would agree. If he had outed himself, everything the Order had been working toward for so long would be lost. He was, after all, the only double agent they had, and he'd felt that surely she would agree. And she had – in theory. When it came to actually taking her innocence before a crowd of jeering onlookers, she had played the part of unwilling and hysterical rape victim superbly.

There was a pitcher of water on the table and he poured some into a bowl. Then, wetting and wringing out a cloth, he moved to where she stood and gently began to wash her face. Hermione didn't move. She stared over his left shoulder and waited as he rinsed and wrung the cloth more than once before moving to her hands and feet. She could smell his skin and the scent made her want to vomit.

"You understand what must happen?" he asked when he'd finished. She looked at him for the first time and barely nodded her assent. "If it were anyone else but Bella I don't think it would matter, but she is petty and mean beyond all reason."

Hermione just nodded again. Bellatrix had raised holy hell when she'd found out that Voldemort had meant what he'd said about Hermione belonging to Snape. "The first time he doesn't take advantage…," she'd bellowed, leaving the threat unfinished. Voldemort had agreed and even, to lessen the sting of losing such a prize, granted her permission to entertain herself with Hermione during the day.

"Please tell me what she does to you. I will heal whatever I can." Hermione nodded again and closed her eyes thinking that he couldn't possibly heal what she wanted healed the most. Even her burned and scarred back mattered little compared to what had already been taken.

Snape seemed to sense her thoughts, or maybe he was just reading her mind, because he turned to her then and said thoughtfully, "You are, I think, too young to have to go through with this. Your life will never the same if we ever get out of here. Perhaps I've been too worried about the Order. It won't be pretty; in fact, we probably won't make it out alive but maybe…"

"No," Hermione said, cutting him off and speaking for the first time. "If we try to get out now it will have been for nothing."

Snape stared at her. "It might end up being for nothing anyway. If they find us out it's the end of everything."

"Then we can't let them find out."

"You realize what that means?"

Hermione nodded and looked at the bed in the corner, her face pained.

"Very well," he replied and tentatively reached out one hand.

Panic ripped through her body and again she was jolted out of sleep and sat straight up, panting, with sweat coursing down her back. Harry was there with her again, holding her tight and murmuring soothing words in her ear. She'd covered her face with her hands and tried to take deep breaths. Harry held her close and tried to be patient. He was sure this was another nightmare and he hoped she'd talk about it this time.

The first gray light of dawn was seeping in through the windowpanes. Finally, after several minutes of collecting herself, she pulled away from him and said in a small voice, "I'm sorry I woke you again."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for."

Hermione realized that she was still naked from their lovemaking the night before and she pulled the sheet up to cover herself. Harry watched, wishing there was something he could do. "Do you want to talk about it?"

With a slow shake of her head, Hermione gave him a sad smile and said, "I've told you already what happened. I wish I could stop dreaming about it, is all."

Harry squeezed her hand and wished she could, too.