Disclaimer: I do not own anything within this story as it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. BTW… I've written in a rape scene. If that disturbs you skip over a good portion of the dream sequence, but don't stop reading until Voldemort begins to speak… The story needed a bit of angst if you ask me. Ah well…! All dream information came from dream moods dot com, and a good portion of the death eater information came from hplexicon. This is HBP compatible but obviously does not comply with the final book. Also note it's post apocalyptic as well.
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Chapter 5: If Only
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Well, enough about me now; that is not why we're here. We're here to print my old journal and document my 'feelings', and 'remarks' on the subjects. I realize how stupid this all is right now; I shouldn't be rambling about me, my past, or anything… I could get someone killed. I was cushioned at that age. I was a bit more disillusioned than I should've been. Things were different then I guess… even in the years that followed.
July 3, 1996
I told Dannie what I thought… minus the thing about sounding like my mother and such, and an awkward silence seemed to envelop the air. My parents were at the office, the house empty. We stood there; staring at each other, either of us knowing nothing to say to the other. I finally couldn't take anymore and left the house. I went to the garage and began to wheel my bicycle out when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew it was Dannie so I just shrugged it away. I had no desire to speak with him. Now or ever… that is if I could avoid it. Except it was then I felt a tugging on my arm and I could feel my body being dragged back inside the house. After we were both inside the house I heard the door shut behind us. I simply stood against the wall… my head hanging, awaiting the explanation I was sure would follow. I know it seems rather unlike me to not speak my mind… but there was just something about Dannie that made me want to run and hide. I'd never felt this way over a boy before…. It wasn't long before Dannie broke the silence.
"Hermione? Do… Do you still want to talk? 'Cause if you don't I guess that's cool too. I just… you know…" He rambled out these words awkwardly. I spoke up as he trailed off, rolling my eyes.
"No, Dannie, I don't know. I don't know anything when it comes to you. That alone drives me insane; it KILLS me to not know something. Why the bloody hell do you have to be so damn confusing?" My mind was reeling as I said this. Why couldn't he tell I was bloody pissed? You can't just tell someone that and not expect an emotional response. I attempted to walk away when I ran into Dannie's arm. I looked up only to see Dannie standing over me, both of his arms on either side of my body, pinning me to the wall. I felt anger towards Dannie begin to course through me. What did he think he was doing? "WHAT THE HELL DANNIE!" I practically screamed this before calming down and slowly forcing out, "Let me go." I turned my eyes to look into his and gave him a steady glare. Why do all of our conversations always end up in a fight?
"Hermione, listen to me please! I'm sorry… I guess I didn't think through what I said; I didn't think you would react this way. Believe me plea..." I cut Dannie off there.
"That's just it Dannie, you didn't think. Granted, I'm not like most girls; I couldn't give a shit sometimes. Dannie, I really like you. More than I've liked any other guy I've known. And… God, it hurts sometimes," Dannie just looked down at his shoes, removing his arms from the wall.
I took this opportunity to silently walk away from him. I rounded a corner of the house, and began walking up the stairs. I could just imagine Dannie standing there, cursing himself for not taking the chance that was in front of him. I chuckled to myself, knowing that my daydreams happened so very often. I always did that; dream about something I wished would happen, but it never came true. I've always accepted that. I slowly climbed the stairs, wishing he would follow me, but the voice never came. Disheartened I entered my room and slowly shut the door. I sat on my bed and looked up at my ceiling, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. Why did shit like this have to happen to me? I lay my head on my pillow and felt my body shake in a sob. I lifted my legs up and turned so my sobs were smothered my pillow.
I hated pain, and good god this hurt one hell of a lot more than it should. Why did I always put myself in a position to get hurt? I did it first year when I let Harry and Ron make me cry… of course that worked out because they saved me from a mountain troll. But, then I did it again in third year when I proved to Malfoy that he could get under my skin, damned bastard knew just how to piss me off. In fourth year, Ron couldn't get it through his thick skull I was more than a girl, my first real crush didn't even notice me. I always set myself up for an emotional fall. My situation with Dannie proved that…
I didn't get to finish my rant because I slowly drifted off to sleep. As soon as I fell asleep my dreams were soon haunted with disturbing dreams….
Some people say that dreams mean something about your life at that moment in time. I've even heard it said that dreaming serves as an outlet for things we repress during the day, that we can act in ways we wouldn't usually act in our real lives. I guess that would be why my dream that night was a continuation of one of my past nightmares… Except this time I viewed as an outside force, not a participant. It felt horrible, seeing what happened and not being able to control what I saw my body perform. When I awoke about four or five hours later I wanted to be sick… but that never happened. In some way my, in some corner of my brain, I wanted to know why what I saw happen, happened in my dream. But, I never would've admitted that when I was that age. I'll tell you now, prophetic dreams suck! The dream was as follows; I guess it should be depicted as I saw it… in the third person, that is:
I saw… well, it seems this is harder than I thought…
Hermione, my body, laid her back against the closed door. Her body moved against its will each time a fist on the opposite side pounded against the door. Tears streamed down her face as she magically locked the door with her wand. A spell she hoped her pursuer wouldn't recognize, and wouldn't know the counter spell. She took a fearful step away from the door and looked over her shoulder back in its direction. It continued to shake and tremble under the force put upon it. She knew he was angry and she wanted a way out. Hermione slowly but steadily trembled her way over to the vanity against the wall. The mahogany colonial piece of furniture held an oval mirror and Hermione looked at her appearance. Her peach slip was torn… the once full length slip now barely met the middle of her thighs. The edge was frayed and threads were hanging, there was a long rip along her stomach and one of the thin straps was threatening to snap away from the material in the front. Upon seeing the scars on her thighs and arms, Hermione slowly sat on the small stool that matched the vanity. She lifted a shaking hand to her face and wiped away the droplets of blood that were forming along the new cut at her cheek bone. She winced as a tear mingled with the cut, creating a stinging pain that coursed through her. Hermione looked at her disheveled appearance and cursed her husband inwardly. Her matted, unruly and knotted hair frizzed up like a poof in the humid castle corridors.
She was back in her youth's sanctuary, Hogwarts. Voldemort had seized the fortress from the few still loyal to the order. Dumbledore's white stone grave had been destroyed and Hermione could see the ruins from the tiny slit of a window in the room. The pounding at the door increased and Hermione's head snapped toward the intruding noise. With more fear in her system she looked fervently around the room, scanning every inch trying to remember where she put her secret. Her eyes gaze each object, observing the tiny room's articles. Was it underneath the mattress in the uniform dormitory bed? Or was it in the small bedside table next to it? Hermione closed her eyes, trying to remember where she had stashed the prohibited object. They snapped open and her fumbling hands opened a drawer and pulled out a long, wide and thin rectangle.
Her eyes slowly fluttered as she lifted the white lid off of the box. Hermione's pupils rested on the silver dagger that lay before her. Her fingers slowly traced the intricate steel handle and she picked up the blade with a new sense of confidence. She was openly sobbing now and she turned the dagger to point directly at her heart. Hermione was more than willing to end her suffering by shoving the damned blade into her, forcing the knife into her heart, ending her life. She began to add steady pressure, the tip of the blade breaking flesh and Hermione gasped at the sudden pain. She felt a stream of blood run down her chest when the door broke open and the knife flew out of her hands and flew into the hands of the intruder. Voldemort stood just inside the room, a sadistic smile on his face, holding the bloody knife in his hands. His eyes flashed in anger as he slowly but surely stalked towards Hermione.
"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" He questioned; violence on his mind, "You belong to me bitch, and I decide when your life ends!"
Hermione gulped in fear, having no idea what was to come. Voldemort's anger was unpredictable towards her and she could see the hatred in his eyes, his want for her to be in pain. Hermione decided on taking the smartest course of action and for the only second time in her life kept her mouth closed. She knew that if she made any kind of response, she would most likely have been beaten. Normally, she wasn't the type of person to back down but this time she could feel a thick trail of blood seeping through her slip; staining the already ruined undergarment. Hermione slowly stood and backed away from the vanity, very quickly her back slamming against the wall, her steps back in tune with Voldemort's steps forward. When she hit the wall she closed her eyes and looked up, unsure of what would happen. All of a sudden she felt a force hit her, most likely a spell, and Hermione felt the wound on her chest heal and scar. She heard the dagger hit the stone ground with a clang before she opened her eyes to look directly into Voldemort's snake-like slits that posed for eyes. Having had enough Hermione raised her hand to slap the bastard in front of her, except one of Voldemort's pale, white hands ceased the weapon before it reached its target. He pushed her hand against the wall, holding it forcefully still.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of. DON'T cross me my little Mudblood, I can do things to you that would haunt your wildest dreams!" His thin lips hissed in hatred. In frustration of being held against her will, yet again, Hermione spit in his face.
"You can't scare me half-blood!" She smirked as his eyes flashed in anger, he couldn't stand his secret thrown around so carelessly, "What? I wasn't called the brightest witch of my age for nothing, you bastard! I did my research. I know your mother was a Slytherin, through and through. I also know she shacked up with a muggle. How does it feel, you son of a bitch, to know you are what you hunt and kill? You are a damn hypocrite…" Hermione didn't get to finish her sentence as she felt his fist collide with her stomach, forcing her to slightly bend in pain. She has recently learned to control the amount of pain she allows to show that she feels. Voldemort being the sadistic, sardonic being he is, got off on the pain others let show.
Voldemort leaned in and began to whisper into Hermione's ear, "Well Hermione," she could sense the hate in his voice. "You still seem not to have learned your damn place, so I think I'll need to attempt a new method of instruction hmm? Voldemort's smirk twisted into an evil smile as he took her by the wrist pinned to the wall and forced her to the medium sized bed in the matchbox of a room. Hermione, realizing what might happen began struggling against the strong arm holding her. Voldemort tossed her onto the bed; her rag doll, undernourished body did no damage to his form. Quickly a spell was cast, tying Hermione's legs each to a respective bed post. Forcing her spread eagle, Voldemort straddled his soon-to-be conquest and held both of her hands above her head.
"You are mine Granger, and I will control what I own with no complaints," He hissed into her ear, causing her to shudder in disgust. Voldemort felt her tremble under him, but mistook it for fear instead of disgust and the smirk reappeared on his face. If he had not yet made up his mind about what to do with her, this act of repulsion from Hermione decided his next action. Tom 'Voldemort' Riddle was going to rape Hermione Granger.
Hermione knew what was going to happen to her, she wasn't stupid. She also knew there was no way she could prevent it, but there was no way in hell she would just lay there and let him do whatever the hell he pleased with her. When Voldemort released her hands and got off of her, Hermione did her best to break free. She inwardly cursed as she realized there was an invisible force still holding her hands. Voldemort let out a malicious chuckle; watching as she struggled against both sets of her bonds not wanting to admit defeat. She closed her eyes realizing Voldemort has already taken off his belt, and was already working on his pants. Hermione never wanted her first time to happen like this, but she also knew there was no way for her to stop this. Time passed slowly for the Gryffindor who awaited her fate; her tears, once tears of emotional pain had become silent tears of anger. Voldemort, finished undressing stood before her. His long lean form was pale from lack of sun, and Hermione couldn't bear to look at him. Except, when she heard a movement in the room her eye's snapped open to see Voldemort climbing atop her. Hermione did her best to struggle against his body, cringing when she felt one of his hands roughly caress one of her satin covered breasts. His hands drifted and pinched her right nipple, pulling it upward. Hermione gasped in pain, she had never before felt such pain and hatred. His other hand forcefully trailed up her inner left thigh, the calluses scratching her scarred skin… fingers tracing her self mutilated body. Voldemort let his other hand drift down her stomach and grabbed both of her thighs, wishing Hermione would cry out… to feed the lust he was feeling. Looking into his victims eyes he saw the conviction in Hermione's eyes. It was then he understood Hermione knew him too well. She would not allow him the satisfaction he wanted. This realization caused his eyes to flash in anger and frustration; Hermione saw this and suppressed her urge to show fear. Voldemort violently pushed up what was left of her slip, revealing her bare flesh. He smirked yet again and pushed his fingers into her hips, inciting an accidental grimace from Hermione. She had had no intention of showing how much pain she was in. He knew this and it fueled his aggression. In a moment of surprise he grabbed her lips with his, kissing her roughly and sadistically, forcing her mouth open while his hands sought out the flesh he truly desired. All plans she had of hiding her fear was forgotten when she felt two thin, rough fingers forced their way into Hermione's dry flesh. She screamed; no amount of control could suppress this new pain she was feeling. Voldemort forced his fingers in and out of her, and upon noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks the smirk on his face changed to a smile that would disgust even the most sadistic man. He withdrew his fingers and grabbed her hips roughly. He looked straight into her eyes and fed on the fear in her eyes. He was taking the one thing she held dear, and the one thing that she could never get back once taken; her virginity. Voldemort positioned himself at her entrance and thrust inside quickly. A shot of extreme pain shot through Hermione as she felt her cavity begin to moisten with blood. She let out a brief scream as Voldemort slowly moved his member inside of her, prolonging her pain. He sped up her pace when she stopped fighting against him. She'd given up in his eyes… in a way she had. There was no possible way for her to stop this. Her wand lay forgotten on the vanity, out of reach… with no way to discreetly retrieve it. She unwillingly let him find his own release in her… all the while trying to think up a plan to get the bastard back for this. She felt something warm fill her insides as he pulled his length out of her body. She felt a sticky substance seep out of her. Hermione wanted to empty her stomach, except she hadn't eaten in 3 days so there was nothing to throw up. The disgust consumed her to the extent she didn't even notice as Voldemort redressed and exited the room, remembering to grab the dagger and her wand before he left.
As Hermione felt her bonds release she curled into a ball, as if that would relieve the physical and emotional pain inside her brain. Nothing could change her mind now; she had to find a way to end her pain. She would kill herself, and there was nothing Voldemort could do to stop her. Suddenly an idea came to her; she knew the perfect way to kill herself, and the best part was she wouldn't even have to kill herself… Voldemort would do that for her in his angered state. Hermione Granger was going to sleep with a death eater. The real trouble was which one… and how did she choose who it was to be? Hermione racked her brain, thinking of all the estranged possibilities. It had to be someone close to her husband. One of his most trusted followers… male followers… That left Lucius Malfoy, his son Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback, Rodolphus Lestrange, his brother Rabastan Lestrange or Peter Pettigrew. Immediately her list was narrowed down. She wouldn't risk Bellatrix's wrath by seducing her husband Rodolphus. Peter Pettigrew was a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man… he would never believe that Hermione would be interested in him. Severus Snape was an ex-teacher… and the son of a bitch betrayed the Order. She knew that she could never touch him in any sexual way without somehow showing a clue as to what she was doing. Hermione searched through her mind looking for a way to eradicate more names from her list. Suddenly she remembered something that had happened a long time ago. Atonin Dolohov tried to kill her during her sixth year… good reason not to seduce him that was. She also remembered Fenrir… that brought back uneasy memories of Lupin. Lupin was a longtime friend of hers, and it brought tears to her eyes to envision his deformed body, mangled by Greyback's yellowed claws. This was good… she was making progress. Down to three from eight, but Hermione still had to rid two names from her list. She decided that research would probably necessary.
Hermione slowly uncurled herself and threw her bare feet onto the cold stone floor and uneasily stood, clutching the tall bed post so she wouldn't loose her footing. Once she was sure she wouldn't collapse, Hermione walked with a new-found confidence and softly padded through the Hogwarts corridors. Her footsteps ceased suddenly as she heard voiced coming in her direction. The near naked girl searched her surroundings, looking for somewhere to hide. She'd found her way to the dungeons, and a classroom lay just across the hall. Frantic, Hermione dashed into the room and lean against the door. Turning her ear against the framework, she listened and heard the voices of Lucius and Draco Malfoy bickering and felt the doorknob turn against her hip.
"Draco, we will NOT discuss this here! Damned door… I wish He would have all these rooms checked. Here it's finally loose. In Draco we can talk in private," Hermione heard Lucius rant. She'd run from her position at the door and hidden under a rotting teacher's desk. She heard the feuding pair enter and one of the two place a silencing charm on the room.
"Father, I will not be forced into a decision like this. She's my wife goddamn it. I will not allow my coworkers to assume it's mine. I will expose Ceres for the whore she is. Then I think I might just kill Lestrange… Rabastan impregnated my wife and my god, had the audacity to admit it to my face!" Draco seemingly ranted to his father. Hermione thought to herself that there was a perfectly good reason to knock Rabastan Lestrange off her list… he was… potent, so to say. She was down to the two men verbally sparring in the room.
"Draco… she's your wife! You must carry on pretenses and hide this monstrosity from the rest of the followers. We would be in disgrace if you expose this! I will not allow you to taint the Malfoy name in this way. You will parade that bastard child as yours when it's born in six months! Do you understand me?" Lucius asked this as if there was only one answer. Giving Draco a glare, Draco nodded as Lucius left the room.
Pissed, Draco turned to the wall and hit the door as hard as possible with his fist. Hermione smirked; she was going to sleep with Draco Malfoy, and that was the final answer.
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So? What did you think? I need to know… so reviews are nice.
Leave me dues…
InLove09