Ermengarde Rosier woke up screaming, screaming, screaming. Cold sweat covering her body. Sat bolt upright in bed.
Ermengarde is a character in "Hello, Dolly!" Rosier was picked at random. About halfway through posting the story I was watching GOF on TV and Barty Crouch Sr mentioned that Evan Rosier was dead. Whoops.
Her brother Leopold was immediately at her side, pulling her close to his chest and hugging her tight.
Ermengarde is also the name of a Bavarian princess, and she had a brother named Leopold.
"It's okay," he whispered into her ear, stroking her dirty blond hair, rocking her gently back and forth. "It's okay. I'm here. I've got you."
She sobbed quietly into her older brother's chest. She had had another vision of her parents, arrested in front of them, being forcibly removed from their home. Visions of them in Azkaban, where they had been brought to say good-bye. The Dementors looming overhead so that they could not even reminisce about happier times together. They said the Dementors were gone from Azkaban now, but they were not gone from her mind.
Her mother's eyes, full of tears, as she kissed her daughter's hand and told her to listen to her brother. Her father, stoic, not saying a word, merely pulling her tight to his chest and planting a kiss on her forehead. They had done the same to Leopold. And to their older sister Brigita.
Brigita was added much, much later. When I initially wrote this chapter, there was no third Rosier sibling.
Mummy had said not to worry, that they were going to be given a kiss goodnight and they would fall into a very deep sleep. She had said they would be relaxed and happy, and that she and her brother and sister would be going to live with all the other children and make all sorts of friends, so many friends that she would not even miss them.
She had been four years old at the time, her brother six, her sister nine. They were nine and eleven and fourteen now. Soon Leopold would be off to Hogwarts, and she would be stuck here, alone. He had said he wanted to stay here, with Ermengarde, until it was time for her to go to Hogwarts. Insisted that he would not leave his sister behind. But Mr. Snape had said that he needed to go, that the best way he could take care of his sister would be to get a good education so he could support her when he grew up. Ermengarde sobbed harder at the thought. Everyone wanted to take her brother away. Did they not know that he was all she had? Did they not know what happened to the children who left the orphanage for Hogwarts? They never came back.
Like Brigita.
It was enough to give anyone nightmares.
This is a crucial scene, not necessarily for the plot, but because it's the first solo conversation between Severus and Hermione. Anyone who writes SSHG knows that your very first challenge is getting these two on speaking terms with one another. I found that I had to plan this scene very carefully. Not too antagonistic, not too friendly. I was ultimately satisfied with the balance, but then again I'm not objective ;)
Two weeks after her last visit, Hermione found herself back in the underground corridor that led to the common room where the Death Eater Orphans lived. Miss Glastonbury had smiled sweetly, unlocked the door, and told her to take as much time as she needed down there. Purposefully, and quickly, she rounded a corner that would take her both to Snape's office and the common room.
And found herself flat on the ground seconds later.
She had walked into what felt like a barrier that bounced her back with great force, as if she had been bounced by a large, invisible balloon. Her wand was out in an instant. She waved it around her to see who was with her; this was, after all, a dark and deserted corridor. Who knew what could be lurking down here…
Oh, Severus, you're so mature.
Hermione lowered her wand when she saw a dark figure towering over her. Wearing grey again. No black. That was new. So many changes about him—the hair, the clothes. She wondered if his miraculous recovery after his near-death experience and decided to turn over a new leaf in life. One that involved looking less like a vampire.
Snape's satisfied smirk at her condition told her otherwise.
"No one enters this area without my permission, Granger," Snape said mockingly. "I thought I told you that last time."
"I was on my way to see you," she protested, getting up. "Was this really necessary?"
"Given that two unfamiliar, unauthorised persons managed to get into the common room a fortnight ago, yes, it was. I suppose I should thank you and Potter for exposing an unfortunate oversight in my security down here." He didn't.
He does have a point.
"Does Miss Glastonbury know about this?" she asked. His glare answered that for her: No, she doesn't, and if you know what's good for you, you won't mention it. "Would you mind bringing down the barrier, please? I want to talk to you."
"If it's about your philanthropic endeavour, you can turn around and go right back where you came from."
Just one of many instances where the American-to-British English conversion did not go so well.
"I just want to talk. And Harry isn't with me." She tried to smile. "If you don't like what I have to say, you can throw me out again. I promise I'll go quietly."
"Leave, Granger, I'm very busy."
"Please!" she cried. "Just hear what I have to say. We won't do anything without your leave. I just want you to listen to me."
"I thought you said you were going to go quietly?"
"After you've listened to me!"
His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her through the barrier. "I suppose you will not leave until I have let you have your say?"
In spite of himself, he's intrigued by what she has to say.
She shook her head fiercely.
When she looked back on this later, she wouldn't be able to say what exactly it was that made him do what he was about to do.
"You will stay in my sight the entire time, and not go anywhere near the common room?"
She nodded.
"And the moment I tell you to leave, you will leave?"
She nodded again.
"And you understand that if you are ever lying to me, about anything, I shall know and respond appropriately?"
Another nod.
Snape contemplated her for a moment, then sighed and lazily waved his wand. With a jerk of his head, he invited her in. She hesitantly walked past the spot where the barrier had been (it had knocked her back a good five feet) and followed him into his office.
He sat behind the desk, crossed his arms, and looked at her with great irritation.
"I am a very busy man, Granger, so I hope you will cut to the heart of the matter quickly."
I once had a boss who felt the need to remind me every 30 seconds or so how busy he was.
She nodded. "I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day. We came on strong and unannounced and I can't even imagine what you must have thought of us. Well, that's a lie, I can." Her attempt at levity fell with a thud as his face remained expressionless and he just stared at her.
"Right. Well, Harry and I talked about it quite a bit afterward, and we agree, we don't understand the full extent of this problem. We just know that there is one. Our desire to help is genuine, but I think we were putting the cart before the horse here. So I'd like to ask you your permission to make appointments with you to learn about the issues these children face. Everything will be kept completely confidential. And anytime you want me to leave, I will. I have no ulterior motive here; we just want to help. I just want to help."
She thought about elaborating, then felt a faint buzzing in her head as if a Muffliato had been cast. She knew what it was immediately. Legillimency. He was silently performing Legillimency on her, to gauge her true intentions, no doubt. Clever. She thought about occluding him, then decided that it was probably the wrong response, that he would immediately suspect her of hiding something and toss her out before she had a chance to gain his trust. Hermione was good at Occlumency, but probably not good enough to hide it from a master Occlumens. She also knew that he did not know that she possessed the skill.
As someone who would have zero skill at Occlumency, I didn't want to focus too much on it because I literally don't know how you can compartmentalize your mind from your feelings. Anything I would write would be a rip-off of someone else's take on the subject. I figure this story has the least amount of Occlumency per-capita in the whole SSHG fandom.
She decided instead to trust that he would not violate her mind and just skim the surface to gather her motivation and leave it at that. She hoped he wouldn't make her regret the decision. She decided to just focus on her first visit, her conversations with Miss Glastonbury, and her discussions with Harry.
For a long time, neither person spoke or broke eye contact. Finally, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, she felt the buzz disappear. Blinking and looking away, she felt a slight headache. She debated whether she should tell him about it, and therefore call him out on the Legillimency, and decided she could live with the headache.
"You think you know what this project would entail," Snape said slowly. "But you really have no idea the depth of the undertaking or the severity of the problems."
"You're right," Hermione agreed. "I was hoping you could rectify that. Help me and Harry understand."
"Not Potter. He is incapable. Too hotheaded and self-centered to be involved in something like this."
He's not entirely wrong, given his history with Harry.
"That's unfair," she said. "You haven't seen or spoken to Harry since he was a teenager. You have projected James Potter onto him." She spoke quickly, knowing she was playing with fire here. "I know him better than just about anyone. You may be good at reading people, but when it comes to Harry you just lose your gift. The war changed him, changed all of us, but if nothing else it made him more cautious, more insightful, and more deliberate in his actions. He doesn't do anything now without really weighing the pros and cons and considering all potential consequences. Not only that, he's married now with a baby on the way. He knows he has big responsibilities on the horizon, and he has taken that into account as well."
The subtitle of JTB could easily be: "The one where everyone grows up and cuts the crap."
He scoffed. "Potter may be grown up, but when you were here I saw the same arrogance that was always there in his youth."
"It's not arrogance—it's the truth. Harry is famous. He has been famous his entire life for surviving after his parents were murdered right in front of him, something that would cause most children to live with hysterics for the rest of their lives. He is probably the most famous person in Wizarding Britain. I think even Muggles are familiar with him. When he picks a cause, people pay attention. He didn't ask for it; he never did.
"This is going to sound ridiculous to you, and you probably don't believe me, but all he has ever wanted is a quiet life and a family. He knows he can have the latter but will never have the former, no matter what else he does for the rest of his life. Ever. He has made peace with that and decided that, so long as this is going to happen, it might as well be on his terms and for the causes he thinks are important."
Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly. "And all those interviews? The so-called authorised biographies?"
Hermione sighed. It was always difficult to explain this to people, and he was the least likely to believe her. "It was clear right after the war that there were going to be books and articles about us whether we liked it or not. If we had declined interviews, declined the books, the likes of Rita Skeeter would have interviewed those 'closest' to us and come up with her own version of events. All three of us have been subject to that before, and decided that if we couldn't stop it, we could at least get the true version of what happened out there. Better for it to be something that we approved of than what that Skeeter woman would invent in her head and passed off as the truth, you know? Besides…people should know the truth. And only three of us were there when many things happened. Call it arrogance, call it a desire for fame, call it whatever you want. We have been given many impossible choices and have always tried to take the least painful one. In this case, we thought, and still do think, that this was the least painful option."
Elizabeth Smart's family authorized a biography and made-for-TV movie for the exact same reason.
Snape said nothing, betrayed no expression, but Hermione could swear that she saw him give the tiniest nod of understanding. Unlike them, he had refused all requests for interviews after his recovery, and the result had been Rita Skeeter's book Snape: Scoundrel or Saint? While he was still revered within the Wizarding world as a hero (to most), the book had done some damage to his reputation. Hermione wondered whether he even cared.
I just love that, in the canon HP universe, there is a tell-all book about Severus Snape.
Satisfied that she may not have entirely failed this time, she decided to play her trump card. She knew Snape liked to be, needed to be, in control of the situation, and decided to give it to him. "So there it is; my cards are out on the table here. Harry and I want to help you. Ron…Ron doesn't think he's ready to revisit what this would mean, so he is staying out of it for now at least. So whatever happens would pass just between you, me, and Harry. Only when you give permission would we ever do anything. For now, think of it as information-gathering. All on your terms and at times which are convenient for you and with as little disruption as possible to the children. We're doing this for them, after all."
Sensing that this would probably be a good time to stop talking, she folded her hands in her lap and sat back against the chair. After much deliberation after her last disastrous attempt, she decided that a suddenly Slytherin approach would raise a red flag for Snape and would likely do more harm than good. He already suspected something, clearly; a change in tactic would only confirm that suspicion. Better to play the role she knew best anyway, but be less bull-headed, more submissive. She hoped that it had worked.
She had made her case. She hoped he liked what he heard. He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head up, eyes on the ceiling, contemplating what he had been told.
"Potter will be involved regardless?"
"I'm afraid so. I don't hold the same pull that he does with the right people. People will be more generous with their time and money if he is involved."
Hermione should have just as much influence, but that's just not the way the world works.
Another long few minutes of silence passed before Snape broke it with a slow, deliberate voice, still not looking at her. His expression was still unreadable, and he seemed to choose his words very carefully. "I think perhaps a little education on the subject would be beneficial for you both. Friday next at eight o'clock in the evening, you and Potter will meet me here, and you will both learn the scope of the problem."
Hermione was ecstatic but keep her face and voice calm. "Thank you...Severus? Severus. We will be here. Thank you very much for trusting us. I promise you will not regret it."
I'd gotten a number of comments in chapter 3 that Harry and Hermione shouldn't have been calling Severus by his first name, so I wanted to show her getting permission. Truth be told, I don't think I could ever call a former teacher by their first name. Too weird.
He said nothing, rather sat up and turned to the paperwork at his desk. Hermione took this as a sign that the meeting was over. She thought of something, anything, to say to him, but decided that silence was probably best, and left the office without another word. She heard the door slam behind her and felt the slightest push against her back as she passed through where the barrier had been.
This was a very challenging scene to write because it's very delicate subject matter, I didn't want to sensationalize it, but I also wanted to give it the gravity it deserves.
Friday night found both Harry and Hermione in the corridor around the corner from Snape's office. Not wanting to experience the pushback again, or find out what extra might happen if the wards specifically detected Harry, they stood and waited. Unsure of whether Snape would realise their presence without walking into the barrier, Harry decided to send a patronus to him informing him that they were around the corner and ready. Moments later, they heard him call for them to enter and they walked around the corner—into the barrier, falling back five feet into the ground.
Hearing Severus's cruel chuckle, Harry scrambled to his feet and offered his hand to Hermione, pulling her up. Snape was standing there, laughing, then gestured for them to follow him. Scowling, Harry and Hermione followed him.
"We're going to have to do something about your appearance," he announced without preamble. "Both of you."
They nodded. They figured he may have to fix a temporary dark mark to their arms in order to gain the children's trust.
"You are both constantly in the Prophet every time you leave the house, and I promise you that where we journey tonight, neither of you wants to be recognised. So, if your abysmal transfiguration skills are not so wanting, kindly transfigure yourselves now before we leave."
The two friends shared a quick glance. Snape had not mentioned anything about going anywhere else. Then again, Hermione had not asked. With a sigh, she pointed her wand to Harry's face. The scar disappeared from his forehead. Green eyes turned blue. Black hair turned brown, and a small goatee grew on his face. His glasses (still round, after all these years) turned into thin, rectangular lenses with silver frames. Finally, with an evil grin, she added a few streaks of grey to his hair and crow's feet to the corners of his eyes. Satisfied, she gave him a nod.
Harry responded in kind. His transfiguration skills had always lacked behind Hermione's in school, but his Auror training had more than bridged the gap, and their skills were now comparable. Hermione's hair was cropped short, straight, and blonde. Her eyes were green, her nose a little shorter and more pointed, her lips a little fuller. Harry changed the shape of her eyebrows and made her skin tone slightly more tan. He detached her earlobes and added a small beauty mark (she would consider it a mole) to her left cheek. With a nod, he finished. Both turned to look at Snape expectantly.
I wanted to give Harry competence in an area of magic. For our brave hero, he was surprisingly lacking in skill.
Evidently he was not aware of their improved skills and betrayed a small expression on his face. Was he impressed? Shocked? Satisfied? Hard to tell. At least he wasn't disappointed. But almost immediately his face turned back into the expressionless, dispassionate mask and he only said, "I suppose that will do. If you are recognised, it is your own fault." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked briskly out, Harry and Hermione scrambling to follow him.
This is the Severus Snape version of being impressed.
Snape stopped at the landing just outside the front doors. The guard snored loudly at his desk.
"Apparate to Knockturn Alley, just outside Borgin and Burke's," Snape said softly. "We will walk from there." He walked out the door and they heard the crack of Disapparation. With a sigh, they followed, clasped hands, and Apparated together the same way they had for months during the last year of the war.
There's a lot of physical contact between Harry and Hermione in this chapter, and it was all very deliberate. It was meant to be a bit of foreshadowing about their sexual past together. Even in canon, when they visited Godric's Hollow and afterward, they physically touched each other quite a bit. I also wanted to show how intense it was for both of them - they wouldn't have been able to handle that place on their own.
Snape was waiting for them impatiently in front of Borgin and Burke's, as if they had made him wait a long time. He then turned left and walked quickly down the street.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked him, nervous. Both he and Hermione had their wands out, as was their habit.
"You will see and kindly put away your wands as if you are rushing headfirst into battle," Snape drawled, not breaking his step or turning his head as he spoke. "Potter, surely even you know that if you act like an Auror while undercover it defeats the purpose of that cover. Granger, don't be so jittery. You both know there are far more dangerous places in this world than Knockturn Alley after dark, and you would do well to act accordingly. You are famous war heroes; act like it."
He really does know them well.
The alley was silent and the only noise they heard was the echo of their footsteps against the buildings. Harry and Hermione replaced their wands in their sleeves, ready at a moment's notice.
"Old habits," Harry mumbled.
They walked a couple of blocks before Snape turned sharply right and stood before what looked like a shack that was half falling-down. Taking his wand out, he tapped it against the door that was falling off its hinges in a deliberate pattern, like one did to enter Diagon Alley. Suddenly the shack transformed into a large, brightly-lit building with red lights in the windows and an age line around the door. Music wafted out into the street. The door was now large and sturdy and decidedly intact.
I've never been to a red light district or seen a brothel, so I apologize for the cliche description.
"Do take care not to blush too much," Snape said and entered the building, Harry and Hermione following close behind.
"Mr. Snape!" cried a fat woman with curly black hair and too much lipstick from behind a counter as soon as they entered. "It is always so nice to see you!" She sounded like she had a slight accent. Maybe Russian. She took Snape's hands in hers as they exchanged kisses on the cheek. "And you have brought friends, I see!"
Apologies to my Russian readers.
"Guests visiting from France," he said, jerking his head over his shoulders slightly at them. "Don't speak a word of English, but wish to have a nice time. Perhaps I may…show them around?"
"But of course!" The old woman gushed. "You know where everyone is. Or if you would just like to watch. And for your friends, no cover charge. Enjoy yourselves." Snape gave her a small bow and swiftly gestured for Harry and Hermione to come with him.
Neither of them were prudes or novices when it came to sex, but they found themselves grasping hands and moving closer together as they walked forward. More foreshadowing. Snape walked quickly up a staircase and turned down a corridor. Harry and Hermione followed, apprehensive, wondering what in Merlin's name they were doing here. Hermione felt her body tense up as they walked through the building, past the scantily-clad women eyeing them up and down and whispering to each other. Had anyone told her this morning that she would spend the evening with Harry and her former Potions professor in a secret brothel in Knockturn Alley, one where he was apparently known and liked…well, she would have bet against it.
Following Snape down the corridor, they stopped just behind him and he beckoned them to come forward and stand in the doorway. On the bed sat a skinny, sad prostitute. She wore thigh-high boots, a pink mini-skirt that was no wider than a headband, and a black leather bustier. Her make-up was hastily applied and she wore too much of it. Her bleached hair was crackled and dry. She looked forlorn. But as soon as she saw who was in the doorway, her eyes lit up.
"Mr. Snape!" she cried, getting up and running for the door.
Oh, no no no, Hermione thought. Please, he didn't take us here to watch him shag a hooker. Please, please, let that not be what's going on.
He knows I'm married! Harry thought desperately. If Ginny knew he was here…
They were both relieved and a little surprised to see a moment later that the prostitute threw herself into Snape's arms and he held her in a tender, almost fatherly, manner. After a moment she pulled him inside, and he indicated to Harry and Hermione that they should follow. He closed the door quickly behind them, locked and warded it. He turned back to the prostitute, who had been grinning a moment ago, and was now sobbing on the bed.
Snape sat next to her, put his arm around her. Hermione and Harry were gobsmacked. Snape, comforting a crying prostitute, holding her protectively? They knew he had a great capacity for goodness and love and loyalty, but compassion? Understanding? This was new.
I fully expected cries of, "OOC! OOC, I say!" in response to this.
Through her sobs and hiccups they could make out a few words. "Tried to leave…so sorry…disappointed you…couldn't find work anywhere else…" Snape soothed her and held her tight, whispered something in her ear.
For a long time they stood in this tableau; Snape and the prostitute on the bed holding each other, Harry and Hermione standing back against the door, holding hands, bewilderment on their faces.
Finally, the prostitute dried her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. Snape gave her a small smile and gestured to his two companions. "May I introduce Miss Valentina Rookwood."
Harry and Hermione's minds went into overdrive simultaneously. Rookwood. Rookwood? Rookwood! Comprehension dawned on them at the same time. Rookwood had been one of Voldemort's most faithful servants. He had been killed in the final battle at Hogwarts. He had had a daughter not old enough to attend Hogwarts. Her. Valentina. This was another Death Eater Orphan. But, Hermione thought, if she was just underage for Hogwarts six years ago, there's no way she could be of age…oh.
Oh, indeed.
Snape wasn't performing Legillimency, as far as she could tell, but apparently he didn't have to in order to know what had been running through their minds. He just nodded. "Won't be but a moment, if you would kindly wait outside." With a wave of his wand he unwarded the door and they left quickly. It slammed behind them as they walked out and caught their breath. Hermione exhaled sharply and fell back against the wall, Harry leaning his hand on the wall next to her to steady himself, facing her.
"He's not…is he?"
Hermione shook her head vigorously. "He wouldn't. Would he? I mean, with us right here in the corridor…?"
"Yeah, I mean, why bring us if all he wants to do is…"
"Right."
The circumstances are pretty damning, even though they know that's not what he's here to do.
They shared a look.
"She can't be more than…" he said.
"Sixteen." Hermione finished. "She cannot be older than sixteen."
"She's one of them." Harry said. "Only she must have dropped out of Hogwarts or run away from the orphanage."
"Or both."
"Did you hear her say something about…something about how she couldn't find work anywhere else?"
Hermione nodded. "It sounds like she's been at this for awhile. Severus obviously has visited her before, or been here before. You don't suppose there are others?" She looked at him worriedly. He shook his head slowly, not to say no, but to say he hoped not.
A couple of prostitutes approached them, rubbing Harry suggestively on the arm, but he vehemently shook his head and took Hermione's arm, leading her toward the stairway. The prostitutes gave up and walked away. A few minutes later, Snape appeared before them.
"Do not trouble yourself about Miss Rookwood, I have paid her enough that she will likely be allowed to go off duty for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, we are not yet done here."
"Severus!" Harry said sharply, drawing his wand. "Why did you throw us out of the room? What were you doing in there with her?"
Good ol' Harry.
Rage flashed in Snape's eyes as he took Harry by the shoulder and pushed him into the wall, wand drawn.
"Do not ever make such insinuations again!" he hissed. "I may be a monster in every other way, but I would never lay a hand on a child, particularly one who has been forced into sexual slavery. If you must know, the presence of you and your friend was causing her considerable distress and so I thought it best if you waited outside." He released Harry and pulled away, glaring at Hermione. "And you?"
Severus is NOT having that shit. Uh-uh.
Hermione shook her head. Snape was right; he was a right bastard who had done many evil things in his life, but he was right—he would never do that, least of all with the two of them there to bear witness.
"If there are no other accusations," he said, glaring at Harry, "we will continue."
He led them up another staircase and down another corridor. He stopped, this time behind a door that was closed. Casting a nonverbal Muffliato, he pointed his wand at the door and opened it very slowly, only a crack. Putting his finger to his lips, he moved away from the door and gestured for them to come peek through the crack. Hermione shook her head, no, but Snape's look intensified and she complied. Harry stood close behind her, since he was tall enough to look over her head.
The scene was horrible. There was no sex going on in the room, but rather just violence. A large man was beating a young woman who could not have been much older than Miss Rookwood. He was slapping her and kicking her and spitting on her. He screamed insults at her. "Death Eater whore!" he screamed. "A fucking Death Eater whore. You love violence, don't you? You love pain, don't you?" He kicked her again. "Say you like it, whore!"
The woman—girl, really—simply nodded and slurred, "Yes, yes, I love it!" But everyone could see she was sobbing. The man jerked her up, hurled her onto the bed, and ripped off her clothes. He slapped her, and then began to—oh God, no. Hermione couldn't watch this. Didn't want to listen. Did not want to stand here while a teenage girl was raped for sickles. She closed her eyes and buried her face in Harry's chest, her hands clinging to his shoulders. His arms were around her protectively, shielding her from the sight.
Sometimes I think I went too far in this scene. I don't know.
"Don't look," Harry whispered. "Don't look." He looked over her shoulder at Snape, horrified. "Severus—what the fuck is this?"
"This is Brigita Rosier. This," Snape said quietly. "Is what we just spared Miss Rookwood."
"Well I'm going to put a stop to this." He made a move to enter the room.
Don't ever change, Harry Potter.
Severus grabbed Harry by the arm and violently jerked him back into the hallway, causing Hermione to fall out of his arms and grasp the wall for support. "Idiot! Do you have any idea what will happen to her if we do intervene? The pimp downstairs, the large, burly, violent, male one you didn't see, will be up here immediately. He will beat you and beat her. And then let that lovely customer beat her some more."
"But I can't just stand here and—"
"Not save the day? I know it must be hard for you, Potter, but you wanted to learn what you would be dealing with, this is it." Without another word, he shut the door, pushed Harry in front of him, and grabbed Hermione. He spoke again once they had reached the end of the corridor, taking refuge in a dark corner. "Brigita Rosier is only fourteen years old. She should be in her fourth year of Hogwarts right now, and instead she spends her days and nights here. She has a sister and a brother back at the orphanage who do not need to know about this. I can show you more. Much more. I can take you upstairs and show you Clarissa Runcorn—they pay extra for bondage with her. Tie her wrists so tight they bleed while they fuck her. Or Lucinda Gibbon, who they advertise as being so tight she squeaks, so she attracts customers who will pay extra to fuck a twelve year old girl. Or Zenobia Yaxley, who performs on the stage downstairs whatever vulgar act the audience demands of her, including penetration with foreign objects by paying customers. She learned the hard way what happens when she refuses a request." He paused for effect then sneered, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and shaking her. "Have you seen enough?"
Maybe I did go too far. My brain really is depraved sometimes.
Hermione had seen plenty. She pushed through both Snape and Harry and bolted down the corridor, down both staircases, and out the front door. She ran too fast to register what the fat Russian madam called out to her as she slammed the door. She only knew she had to get outside. Outside. Fresh air. Forget the smell of sex and alcohol and perfume and blood and fear and anger that had overwhelmed her inside.
She reached the alley, ducked around the side of the building, and began to vomit, choking on sobs at the same time. She retched until she had emptied the contents of her stomach and was just conjuring up bile. She was shaking and sobbing so hard that she couldn't focus enough to cast cleaning charms.
It had all come flooding back—Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange torturing her. Offering her to Fenrir Greyback. Greyback would not just bite her, oh no. He would save that for later. There were other…animalistic tendencies in which he would indulge first. His reputation had been notorious. Hermione remembered the feeling of his breath on her skin, how he had stroked his filthy hand through her hair, how he had whispered in her ear that he could not wait to know how she tasted. She knew just how close she had come to being in the same position as that poor girl upstairs. She had not thought of it in years; what little Occlumency skills she possessed had banished it from her thoughts, forced her to feel nothing. But seeing that upstairs…it was too much.
If showing a female character's vulnerability is wrong, I don't want to be right.
Suddenly the puddle of sick before her vanished and she felt a familiar hand rub her back in a soothing manner. Harry. He helped her up and pulled her into his arms, where she sobbed some more. He tightened his arms around her as he had so many times before.
Again, foreshadowing their past. Kind of parallels the beginning of the scene in the tent later on.
"Severus," he hissed over her shoulder. "What the fuck was that all about? You know, you could have just told us."
"I could have, but the impact would have been lost. And what is the matter with you anyway, Granger? So delicate? You've been through a war. Surely you've seen worse than that."
Hermione shook her head against Harry's chest, and through shuddering breaths replied, "No. Not like that. Never like that." Almost, but not quite.
"Now you understand, then," Snape said gravely. "This is what has happened to nearly every girl who has been in my charge for the past five years who has reached sexual maturity. What every Death Eater Daughter has become. A whore. Only it's not sex—it's violence. The customers pay extra for it. It's advertised, for Merlin's sake. I could not stop them. I could not stop this. The girls, they don't seek it out. But they leave the orphanage, usually underage because they have also left Hogwarts, usually by the end of their third year due to the harassment and fights and sexual taunts that inevitably follow, and they try to find work. Employers see their surnames and throw them out. They come here out of desperation. And the saddest thing…" Snape paused and took a breath. Burying emotion. "The saddest thing is that not long after they arrive here, they begin to believe they deserve it. That this is all they are good for." He stopped talking, crossed his arms, and looked away.
Harry and Hermione were still holding each other. Hermione had since calmed down and composed herself, but was still breathing deeply.
"If you cannot handle this," Snape said, "you have no business with me or the children in this orphanage. You have no business trying to help them. If you cannot handle what it is to live in their hell, you had best leave it alone."
This field trip was one part shock value, one part education. You do need a strong stomach for this project.
He started to storm away. Harry glanced down at Hermione. "Alright?" He whispered. She nodded. "So am I," he said. They nodded at each other, understanding. He let go of her and they stood side-by-side, facing Snape's retreating back.
"Severus," Hermione called. He stopped and turned around. "If your plan was to scare us away, it failed. Now, more than ever, we want to help. Not just those in the orphanage full-time now, not just those who are at Hogwarts, but all of them." Her voice was confident now, assured.
He considered her. "It's more than just this, Granger," he said. "The boys typically drop out earlier than the girls, they join street gangs or commit petty crimes to support themselves. Most spend at least a little time in Azkaban. Dementors are still there, despite what the Ministry is willing to admit publicly. Guards give them trouble. They have to stay in solitary confinement for their own protection, since other inmates are usually keen to take their revenge, too. Sometimes they see their parents, after they've been Kissed.
"Most of them don't make it past their third year of Hogwarts, those of either gender. Horace doesn't deign to reach out to his students who are from less desirable families, and the Sorting Hat seems to categorically refuse to put them into other houses. Fellow Slytherins resent them for the damage done to the House's reputation. I won't even begin to tell you what the students in other Houses do. Suffice it to say, they are usually well-versed in the ways of sex and violence by the time they leave school, courtesy of those in other Houses as well as their own.
I don't mean to trash Slytherin, but I could very easily see this happening. The other houses don't come out great in this either.
"I tell them to keep their heads down and their mouths shut, to be on the defensive, to be alert, but trouble seems to find them no matter what. Minerva, give her credit, tries to stop things when she knows about them, but they often suffer in silence and leave rather than go to an authority figure, because frankly they do not trust any of them.
"Now I just gave you a taste of all of this, Granger, and you made yourself sick. Potter looks like he's been petrified. Now I ask you both this question and expect an honest answer: Do you honestly, truly, believe you can handle this?"
Hermione knew this would be difficult. Painful. Potentially harmful to her career. Might cost her friends. Would ruin her reputation in decent Wizarding society. And yet despite knowing all of this, Hermione had never been more sure of anything in her life.
"Absolutely," she replied. She turned to her friend. "Harry?"
Harry nodded. "I did not do what I did in the war to create a world where it was acceptable for wizards to do this to innocent children. I'm in. All the way."
Snape looked at them with a resigned look in his face. Clearly he had hoped they would leave after this, leave him and the orphans alone. Instead, he shook his head and said, "Very well." His voice dripped with resignation and desperation. Perhaps he was already stretched to his limit.
As he led them back to the apparition point outside Borgin and Burke's, they could hear him mutter, "Bloody fucking Gryffindors."
Yeah, should have cut that f-bomb.