Chapter 21
OK, so I think it's time for a little talk. Yes, this story has a rape. Yes, this story has the victim kind-of falling for her rapist. No, I don't think it's out of character or beyond the realm of realism, and I hope to show you why. It's not romanticizing rape, which is the extreme of human horror.
Look, Hermione was raped by Lord Voldemort for her power. However, in the binding, he became Tom Riddle. He looks nothing like he did when he raped her, so she doesn't have the associative memory when looking at him that she would otherwise. As I already explained in a previous chapter, the binding restored his body, and fixed every deficiency. This includes his being unable to feel love after being conceived under the effects of a love potion. He is only NOW able to feel, and he wasn't when he raped her.
I was always peeved that JKRowling took the easy way out in explaining Voldemort, like 'Of course he's evil, he can't feel love'. This is me addressing one personal peeve of mine from the text.
If you think that the massive change Voldemort's undergoing isn't enough to warrant a little forgiveness, then this isn't your story. I am not going to apologize for having Hermione fall for him, and I don't expect you to stick around if you feel it's inappropriate for her to do so, but I don't believe anyone is beyond redemption. There will always be consequences, I'm not saying there aren't, but there is always a chance at redemption.
For everyone else, thank you for your kind reviews and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!
She still had the nightmares, the ones with crimson eyes and a skeletal fingers. She still woke up shaking and terrified that she would be helpless, held down, and raped again. Hermine was still exhausted, but it was as if her brain was resisting any more rest.
As usual, Voldemort was gone before she awoke and she was left to her own devices. Normally, that would fill her with glee – nothing felt as good as being free. However, after last night and their tumultuous first training session together, Hermione was confused.
How could she, with her nightmares still plaguing her and the act only having transpired a week prior, still enjoy her time with the same man who'd done that? Hermione knew at least part of it was the fact that he looked different, with blue eyes instead of crimson, human features and hands. It made her feel vain and shallow, but there was nothing in his features that reminded her of the man who'd raped her. More than that, though, it was the way he was treating her. She was convinced that he was intentionally being kind, slowly breaking down her barriers. She knew she couldn't trust him, but he hadn't done anything to her since the torture. She was lowering her guard.
Hermione was about to climb out of bed when a house-elf popped into the room with a tray and a no-nonsense look on her big-eyed face.
"Morning Missy Granger," the elf greeted, levitating the tray over Hermione's lap. "I is Mamsy. I is yous get up elf. I helps Missy Granger gets up in the mornings and gets her ready for day. Master hads me give you this as well."
She waved her hand and a single rose was presented to Hermione, who took it with wide eyes.
"Now, eats your breakfast. Mammsy be back when Missy Granger needs getting dressed."
"You know-" her complaint was unheard as the elf left her. Hermione grimaced. That little elf would probably insist on her dressing in her school robes – which were still in Snape's delinquent quarters and, she remembered, still in Gryffindor colours – the second breakfast was finished. The robes changed automatically with your house, but would they change if Hermione was assigned by the Headmaster, not the Sorting Hat? The welcome back feast wasn't until five, when the carriages came in from Hogsmeade with the returning students. If worst came to worst, she could have Mammsy change the colours.
With the imminent disappointment of the matronly house-elf, Hermione dug into her breakfast with gusto, trying to finish it quickly and get the elf back to resolve the issues that had now consumed her brain.
When her meal was finished, her concerns had apparently been for nothing because Mammsy popped back in with a full uniform in her arms in Gryffindor colours. Hermione frowned at the elf.
"Where did you get my robes?" Hermione asked.
"Master is giving them to Mammsy to fit to Missy," Mammsy said in a no nonsense voice. "Now Mammsy be dressing you."
Hermione shrieked as the elf vanished her clothes from her figure, and she tried in vain to cover her bits from the elf's view. Within second, the robes in the elf's arms were on her body. They were tighter than her regular robes, but Mammsy seemed to see that the only issue with the outfit was skirt length, which she extended to the knee.
"Yous looking good, MissyGranger," Mammsy said made her regulation socks and black oxfords appear on her feet as well. "Is all good, Missy Granger?"
"Umm . . ." Hermione hesitated.
Mammsy was not amused. "Missy needs tell Mammsy what is wrong with uniform, Master saids so. What needs you change?"
"I, er, I've been reassigned to a different house." Hermione told the elf hesitantly. "Mammsy, is there any chance you know how to change the trim and the badge to Slytherin colours and arms?"
Mammsy nodded sternly at Hermione. "Mammsy knows all abouts Hogwarts, Missy Granger, Mammsy has been in family for many masters and masters childrens. Mammsy changes it for you now."
Hermione watched and the gold became green and the gold became silver. Her lion crest switched for a snake, and Hermione cringed at it. If Ron and Harry had thought they'd talk to her at school, her robes would probably send them the other way.
"Missy looks good in greens," Mammsy nodded approvingly. "Now Mammsy does hairs. Comes to washings room with Mammsy."
Mammsy led Hermione to the adjoining bath and stood her in front of a mirror to look at her ridiculous bed-head of curls.
"Does Missy Granger know what Missy likes?" Mammsy asked her.
She grimaced at her own reflection. "If you can make my curls behave, it's more than I can do. You do whatever the Master would like, Mammsy."
That, apparently, was the right answer. The elf clapped her knobbed hands and nodded with a smile. "Mammsy be happy to make Master happy, Missy Granger. Mammsy make Master love you."
Mammsy took to her task with the serious maternal instinct of Molly Weasley and the know-how of Lavender Brown time fifty. Mammsy lengthened her hair, changing it from just past shoulder length with her curls to waist-length on her, hanging in tight ringlets down her back. In a sort of preppy queen style she didn't know existed, the entirety of her curly mane was fastened into a loose, low-hanging style with a Slytherin green ribbon that Mammsy's magic held in place in spite of its loose hold on her hair. To her happiness, her hair reminded her of Emmy Rossum.
Mammsy made her happy by keeping her face mostly intact, with only some ochre around her eyes and the rest left alone. Her biggest pain was when Mammsy berated her for chewing her nails and used her magic to fix the length before threatening to smack her hands with a wooden spoon if she did it again in the mansion.
Mammsy looked her over, from the polished and inspected shoes, to her ribboned hair, and nodded sagely. "Mammsy has readied Missy Granger. Missy, if you takes my hands we will be givens the blessings or punishments from Master for you."
"What do you mean?" Hermione started.
"Mammsy is to takes you to Master fors looksie," the elf told her, holding out her hand. "Mammsy can only takes Missy Granger if she holds her hands. Missy Granger?"
There was a moment of hesitation when Hermione didn't want to see his magical megalomaniac, but she swallowed it and took the little elf's hand in hers. Mammsy didn't need to turn even a small margin to apparate her, and she arrived in a grand looking study, occupied by only the Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy. The former looked on the disturbance with little more than neutrality, but with a glint in his eye that Hermione would have denied enjoying to anyone but herself.
"Master requested Missy Granger when she mades ready. Is Master pleased with Missy's being prepareds?" Mammsy asked.
Voldemort coldly looked at Mammsy, and then at Hermione. He surveyed her appearance from top to bottom, a heavy look in his eye.
"Miss Granger, I was not aware you were a Slytherin," his voice was purposefully impassive, but the fire in his eyes told a different story.
She raised her chin. "It's your fault I'm tarnishing your house, my lord. The Headmaster seems to think that he should keep Harry and Ron far away from me while I'm under your watchful eye. Slytherin was his solution."
"You tarnish nothing, Miss Granger," Voldemort chastised her. "It would be the summation of all our efforts to have my house filled with users of old magics. Join us for tea, Miss Granger." He turned to Mammsy. "She was well prepared, elf. You're dismissed."
Hermione seethed at the elf's cold dismissal, but said nothing because of who she was in front of. Her magic compelled her to hold her tongue on her S.P.E.W tirade while Voldemort considered how to address her. She deposited herself in her summoned chaise and accepted the proffered cup, barely bothering to taste it.
"Miss Granger, Lucius is here to escort you to the train," Voldemort informed her. "We wouldn't want anyone questioning why you left for the break with everyone else and then somehow appeared in Hogwarts, would we?"
"No, not at all," Hermione bit sarcastically.
Voldemort chuckled at her, as if she were a cute girl instead of a fierce lioness. It made her scowl.
"Would you prefer to be asked, Miss Granger, whether you approve of my plan?" Voldemort queried. "If you don't like it, it opens up the avenue for rejection. I have made up my mind on the matter."
"The whole point is to avoid drawing suspicion, and I'm supposed to show up at the platform with Lucius Malfoy, of all people, sans trunk? That's less suspicious than just apparating to the castle?" Hermione demanded.
"Mammsy!" the elf apparated into the room with a grumpy look. "Miss Granger's trunk, please."
Mammsy was back in a second with an expensive-looking leather trunk, with silver-embossed HJG in large script along the top.
Voldemort gave her an imperious look. "I do hate when people assume I'm an idiot, Miss Granger. Lucius will be polyjuiced when he accompanies you, and I have prepared a trunk for you. Oh, did you truly think I'd send you away with nothing? I'm aware you already have your school books and robes and muggle clothing within the school, but I had this trunk packed with copies of the texts I want you to study whenever you can in your classes and out - particularly when you find yourself bored with the sixth-year curriculum. You'll find the texts I've given you a fair bit more complex and rare than anything you'll find in the Hogwarts Library."
"Really?" Hermione eyed the trunk now with an eager grin. Her fingers itched to open it and start to finger through the tomes he was sending her with. "I get to borrow some of your library?"
"Oh no, pet," Voldemort grinned. "My library is not for you. These are yours to keep."
Hermione just about squealed in delight. Realizing how ridiculous her bibliophilia was making her look, she cleared her throat and tried to lower the corners of her mouth with no success. "That's . . . very kind of you. Thanks."
"It is a pleasure to serve a mind such as yours, pet," Voldemort inclined his head in acknowledgement. He picked up the book from his side table and handed it to her. "This text is the one I want you to start reading on the train up. It outlines the training I began with you yesterday, and I believe you'll benefit from a thorough reading."
Hermione snatched it from his hands eager. "This is a copy of Merlin's Treatise on Magic! There is only one, and it's in a library in Alexandria! No one is even allowed to touch it, let alone read it! How…?"
"As you pointed out, it is a copy," Voldemort told her. "I commissioned it from my own edition. Does this please you?"
"Please me?" Hermione gasped. "I can't possibly accept such a valuable gift."
"Yet you cling to it as it were your own flesh and blood," Voldemort remarked dryly. "I do not expect a return of the favour, Miss Granger. Accept it."
She clutched it to her chest. "Thank you, thank you so much for this. I'll take good care of it."
Voldemort couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable with her sincere thanks. She was flushed with excitement, clinging his gift tight to her lovely little breasts. She looked . . . beautiful. She looked like a Slytherin wet dream, with her preppy outfit that let her gorgeous curves show through. She was innocent in her attraction, that was certain. He wanted to stare at her and have her sit on the floor by his feet for another few hours. He wanted her simply reading the gift he gave her at his feet, occasionally looking up at him with her eyes bright at newfound knowledge and her lips spilling over with the conclusions she had drawn from her readings.
However, with what Lucius had seen, he would have questions and Voldemort was not in a position to allow rumours and gossip to circulate amongst his followers. He needed their unwavering loyalty now more than ever as his plans started to form. He needed her gone so he could focus on his plans.
"My pleasure, Miss Granger," he wasn't lying. "Now, before Lucius accompanies you, I need a moment with him. Would you kindly wait outside?"
It was always terrifying either leaving or entering Voldemort's presence. Hermione had no idea when his moods would shift into dangerous territory, and she knew for a fact that Lucius Malfoy was one of those people who could cause the flip. Still, she rose from her seat and left the room.
Voldemort watched her leave reluctantly, and wished it wasn't necessary.
"You certainly know how to please the little witch, my lord," Lucius commented when the door closed. "If Draco is to be believed, books are certainly more effective than gems."
"Is there a reason for the comment, Lucius?" Voldemort replied, his tone casual.
Lucius withdrew, aware that without the girl in the room he had no defenses. "Simply curiousity, my lord.
"Well then, let me divert your curiousity, Lucius. It should interest you to know the same precautions have been taken for young Draco. The Headmaster fears retribution from us for his defection."
Lucius nodded, although he looked bleak. "As he should."
"Now, now, Lucius, you have been a good friend and I am pleased with you right now," Voldemort told the patriarch with a smile. "You need not fear me if you defend your only heir."
Lucius frowned. "It does not bring me joy to be separated from him, my Lord, but it is his own desires that have done it."
Voldemort considered his words thoughtfully. "I have not been the kindest taskmaster, and for that I thank you, as you've been exceedingly patient. I offer you an even greater sign of my trust, old friend."
"Of course, my Lord, I'm honoured," Lucius agreed quickly.
"It's not that kind of offer, my friend," Voldemort comforted him. "Your son has refused the Mark, but he does not need to be separated from you, nor is his usefulness be over. I wish for you to write to your son, and inform him of an offer from me; I will allow him to be free from my service should he provide a way for my Death Eaters to complete the task I set to him. If he provides a way into the castle for my men, he will be allowed to return to you, and you may have your heir back."
Lucius dropped to his knees before Voldemort. "My lord, I would do anything for my son. You do my house a great service in your mercy."
"So formal, Lucius," Voldemort mocked the man. "Listen to my offer first. If Draco offers me this peace offering, he will be welcomed back with open arms and with my protection from the other members of our little family … without a Mark, Lucius. I expect the war to end with the next couple of years, so your son need not be involved as long as you remain loyal."
"I will, my Lord," Lucius vowed solemnly. "I'm sure Draco with be overjoyed at your mercy. He may have refused the Mark, but he knows family – he will do what he must to return to us."
"As appreciation for my generosity, Lucius," Voldemort informed him, "you will protect Miss Granger today."
Lucius tipped his head. "I'd be honoured to be trusted with something so . . . important."
"It is," Voldemort affirmed.
Lucius offered a weak smile. "None of your followers know quite what to think of your strange treatment of the girl, my lord."
Voldemort frowned at that. "And is there dissent?"
Lucius seemed hesitant to name anyone, but Voldemort knew better. He clearly had someone in mind when he let it slip, but didn't want to appear to eager. "None doubt the need to keep her alive, as we can see your regained form, but many await your word to punish the girl for her elevated status with you. If she wasn't Potter's mudblood, I believe the men might admit to being jealous of her indispensability and her care at your hand."
Lucius sipped his breakfast tea thoughtfully, letting Voldemort interject if he wanted. When he received no comment, he continued. "There may be some who believe the girl will become a more … communal pet, soon. Antonin has expressed a desire to bed her."
"That," Voldemort assured him lowly, "will not happen."
Lucius stilled, regarding his master. "May I speak freely, my lord?"
"If you must, Lucius."
He set down his tea cup and leaned towards his master. "It would take more of a fool than I to not see you regard the girl as more than a simple prisoner. I have not been the only one to notice, and you may soon need to defend your interest to the others."
Voldemort cursed. "How obvious is it?"
Lucius gave him a blinding grin. "She seems to be your sole focus, old friend, but to the others it is only a slight excess. The question I should be asking is whether it's for a reason or because you've fallen for the girl."
Voldemort sighed. "Lucius, I will be removing this conversation from your mind in a moment if it continues. Do you agree?"
"As you wish, my lord," Lucius replied, quirking a brow.
"I apologize, but you have more . . . experience in this area than I," Voldemort explained. "I find I care for the girl more than I ever intended. I cannot and will not remove her from my life, but these … feelings … are complicating my goals. I find I do not want to hurt her in any way, including her friends. I must somehow sever her connection to them, or protect her from the war entirely."
"Does she know of your intents for her?"
"She is oblivious," Voldemort admitted, shooting a glare at Lucius.
"Then woo her," Lucius said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If you can convince her to sit in on our meetings and aid in the cause, it may do much to soothe the worries of the others and she would be on your side."
Voldemort ran a hand through his hair. "I do not believe Miss Granger to be the kind to abandon her ideals easily. She will not side with us in this war, no matter what I may get her to feel for me."
"She is also not one to abandon those who've won her favour," Lucius pointed out. "If she forms an attachment to you, she will feel conflicted as to her role in this war the same as you. Explain our side to her, paint us in the best of lights. You needn't force her to side with us, simply to become neutral. That will be enough."
Voldemort was reminded why he recruited Lucius in the first place; he was a genuinely remarkable man with an understanding of people he never had. True, he could often instill loyalty and fear at will, but that was through awe at his power and intelligence. Lucius was charismatic.
"Thank you, friend," Voldemort took his wand from his pocket, leveling it at the man. "Obliviate."
Lucius didn't dare to touch her when he escorted her to the platform. Still, he was unbearably close to her. She could feel the magic on his body slim hers in an uncomfortable way as he followed her through the floo. But however uncomfortable she felt with his polyjuiced form next to her, it was nothing compared to seeing the members of the DA on the platform.
Neville tried to say hi, but she resolutely ignored him. Gryffindors gave her strange looks as she was already in her new, Slytherin uniform and paraded about.
"Hello Hermione," Luna greeted dreamily. "You look lovely. The mafrikops probably help with that."
Hermione resolutely marched forward, ignoring her. When she got to the train, she reached for her trunk and pulled it from Lucius' grip.
"Enjoy your trip, Miss Granger," he said cordially. "And you'll remember my letter?"
She nodded curtly. "I'll deliver it to your son. May I go now?"
She hardly waited for a response before climbing up with her trunk and the text Voldemort assigned and disappearing into the Express' hallways. Now came the hardest part; where was she going to sit? Dumbledore had made it clear that she couldn't have anything to do with people associated with the Order, which took out a bunch of her friends. Even more, she didn't want anyone put in Voldemort's path for interacting with her. That left her with either the Slytherins, or somehow finding an empty compartment for herself. Though the latter was practically impossible, she hoped.
She was lucky, as several groups of students hadn't boarded the vessel, she did find an empty carriage. To ensure it remained that way, she tried to incant the door with various locking charms. She wouldn't let anyone in.
It was lucky she did, because not ten minutes later a group of Gryffindors came by and attempted to gain entry. They would no doubt tell Harry and Ron where she was, and that she was alone and in Slytherin garb. She buried her head in her books and ignored them. Minutes later, a voice in the hallway she didn't recognize shouted, "Found her!"
She started and looked up. It was the younger Greengrass girl. Astoria? She was waving at some people down the hallway, and trying to pry open the door. Other Slytherins soon joined her outside her cabin – Blaise Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Daphne – they all seemed be trying to get in.
Blaise at least was smart. He caught her eye in the window and gave her a grin. "Come on, Granger, we're not leaving until we have a word. Wouldn't want us in trouble for not following orders, right? Let us in."
Well, they were Slytherins. They were supposedly part of her house now, so she waved her hand and opened the compartment door. Astoria and the other stumbled a bit getting in, but Hermione shut her book and just glared at them.
"Alright, you apparently found me," Hermione said. "Now, WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?"
Daphne rolled her eyes before plopping down next to her. "Relax, Granger. We play nice with other snakes, you know. Not that we have a choice, mind you, but still."
"If Voldemort-" the whole cabin flinched, "has ordered me befriended and watched by you, you'd better leave now. I'm not entertaining his possessive streak."
Parkinson rolled her eyes. "Lucky for you, it wasn't an order from You-Know-Who. Our orders came from our parents, who were more than a little surprised to see you at the New Year's revel."
"Not my mom!" Zabini said proudly. "I'm just here to see you, lovely."
"Great," Hermione sighed, leaning against the seat back. "I so do not need to be involved in inter-Death Eater politics."
Crabbe and Goyle were just standing around in the entryway, defending the doorway. At hearing her blunt descriptors, they shut the door and remained on guard outside. There was an awkward silence around her.
"So, Granger," Blaise leaned forward, "when did you become a beautiful Slytherin snake?"
His compliment had her blushing awkwardly, before Astoria tutted him from her seat. "Decorum, Blaise. What he means, Hermione, is that we were looking for a Gryffindor, and instead we found a Slytherin. It is most unusual, isn't it, to change house?"
"Ugh, you're so proper, Tori," Daphne groaned.
"Let her answer," Theo insisted, the first words he'd spoken. Hermione could see the flickers of his eyes to the young Astoria, as if his defense of her was noteworthy to the young blonde.
"Let's think really hard about it," Hermione snarked. "Why would Dumbledore want to move the stupid girl that landed herself in Voldemort's hands away from Harry? What could be the possible motive?"
"As always, they protect Potter," Parkison noted, sounding bored. "I told you it was that simple, Blaise. Dumbledore does seem to think all the questionables live in Slytherin anyways, after all, so why not put her there and away from the Golden Boy?"
Hermione grimaced. "Leave Harry out of this. I was stupid, and got caught. It had nothing to do with him."
"You're coming back, though," Blaise pointed out, ignoring Pansy. "How are you caught if you aren't in his dungeons?"
Hermione tapped her collar, sure at least one girl would recognize the black stones. True enough, the girls gasped, and Parkinson looked sick. The men looked confused.
"Is that …?" Daphne whispered.
Hermione nodded. "Bloodstone collar. Only he can take it off, and he has the ability to call me back to him from anywhere. Even inside Hogwarts wards."
"I didn't know they could do that," Pansy stated, her voice tinged with disbelief. "They're supposed to give the women power. Mom has one she takes off all the time; she says it's my inheritance."
"They're great if they come from the woman's side," Daphne informed her. "When the man puts the collar on, it's usually a means of control. It's horrid nowadays to use it like that, but it used to happen to married women all the time a up until a couple hundred years ago. Mom told us that when we were kids so we knew not to let men put jewelry on us without us knowing exactly what it was."
She turned to Hermione. "I can't imagine what it's like to be collared to him, Granger, but I would think it's bad."
Hermione grimaced. "I'm essentially his pet. He doesn't mistreat me, really. Well, not yet. He's letting me come back to school at least."
Hermione regarded the sympathetic looks on their faces. "So, since you guys clearly don't want to be hexed for following me around the rest of the year, do you want to keep other people from hexing me?"
Theo rolled his eyes. "A Gryffindor version of a Slytherin bargaining. You know, Granger, you don't need to threaten to hex anyone. We were actually hoping to exchange favours. You see, no one knows where Draco is, and as someone close to the top of the chain . . ."
"Oh, is that all you want?" Hermione quirked a brow. "I tell you what happened to Malfoy and you agree to help with the annoyance of being in Slytherin?"
"Yes, please," Astoria murmured.
It was strange, seeing them all in this light. They were still very much the same people as previous years, but this time with just a little bit of human vulnerability, in the form of Draco Malfoy. They loved him, in their own way, and they wanted him safe.
Hermione sighed. "It wasn't a question, you know. Of course I'll tell you."
They all perked up at that. Even Pansy lost her disinterested look and leaned in.
"He's already at the castle, in Professor Snape's delinquent quarters," Hermione informed them. "Been there for less than a week. I'm sure he'll be at the return feast."
"Really?" Blaise asked, his expression lifting. "He's not dead? Tortured?"
"Not dead, no," Hermione pursed her lips, unsure of what to say next. She certainly wasn't going to tell them he was in the dungeon, tortured, and definitely not how he came to Hogwarts. "If you want, ask Malfoy what happened over break. Unless . . . Are you allowed to interact with him? I mean, have your parents said anything?"
None of them had, meaning Malfoy's punishment had been private. Still, it worried her. What was the note in her pocket going to say? Was it to disown him? Threaten him?
"Why wouldn't we be allowed, Granger?" Theo asked now, his eyes calculating.
Hermione shook her head.
"Why would Malfoy be in the delinquent quarters and not the Slytherin ones?" Daphne snipped at Theo. "Come on, you're supposedly smart, Nott."
Theo grimaced at the thought. "Point taken."
There was a tense moment. Then, Blaise leaned forward and wiggled his eyebrows. "So, Granger, what does old Moldy-Shorts look like with his nose back?"
Hermione spent the rest of the trip getting to know the Slytherin group who'd antagonized her for years. They were . . . good. Good kids. Perhaps they could be friends. She genuinely enjoyed Daphne and Blaise's company, and the overt Slytherin nature of Astoria. Theo and Pansy were mysteries, no matter what they said, because they were so very closed off. She wasn't expecting it from Pansy, the way Ron always went off on how close she was to Malfoy, but she was unemotive as Snape sometimes. Theo was just silent, preferring to observe and occasionally make smart remarks.
By the time they arrived at Hogwarts, she was glad to have the group to stand with. Exiting the train with all the other students staring at her made her more than uneasy, and sensing her discomfort, the group of Slytherins actually circled her in a protective formation and kept prying eyes form spotting her.
"Thank you," she murmured lowly, "but it'll be worse in the Great Hall."
"You've been collared by the source of all evil and a little public opinion gets to you?" Pansy scoffed. "Bleeding heart Gryffindors."
"What Pansy means to say is that you've been through enough," Daphne encouraged mildly. "Slytherin takes pride in protecting its own, and you're now an honourary member. If anyone wants to hurt you, they go through us."
"Just…" Hermione's throat clenched. "If Harry or Ron try anything, let them, OK?"
"Why?" Blaise gave a scowl. "You'd let those idiots hurt you?"
"I, no-yes," Hermione stuttered. A tear left her eye, trailing how and wet down her cheek as she tried to rein them in. "They wouldn't hurt me. They might yell, though. I wouldn't blame them for that. And if anyone defends me to them, it would make them even angrier."
"Lovely," Pansy sneered. "Well, I look forward to seeing what your Gryffindor lack of preservation gets you."
Daphne patted her arm comfortingly. "I'll try and reign them in if anything happens, but if you start crying, I reserve the right to hex their hair green. I learned a fabulous new spell this break, you see, and I've been dying to try a more extreme colour. I could only make my hair a few shades lighter or my mother would have noticed and quickly killed me."
That made Hermione giggle, diffusing the tension. They climbed into two separate carriages and trotted up to the castle. When she climbed down off the carriage, the Slytherins surrounded her again. She was glad for it, as she would have been frantically searching for Harry and Ron in worry.
The students must have at least glimpsed her though, because she heard a few gasps and whispers of her name, accompanied by various glares around them from her Slytherin protectors. The murmurs were growing steadily and by the time they entered the Great Hall they were a dull roar. Hermione climbed into a seat at the Slytherin table with her head low and buried.
"No, don't do that," Astoria sat next to her. "If they're going to stare, you give them nothing bad to say. You sit there like you belong, with your head held high and a grin on your lips."
"Like a Slytherin?" Hermione murmured, depressed.
"Exactly," Pansy asserted. "You are here, so act like you belong and you will, Granger."
"You all are ridiculously bad at dealing with Gryffindors," a familiar voice came from behind her. The group looked up and gave subdued, Slytherin smiles at the blonde interloper. Except Hermione, who just plain beamed at him. "Come on, you have to appeal to their sense of glory. Even I know that. Tell her to make her house proud with a courageous face, and she'll be eager to perform."
"Draco!" His crew exclaimed.
"Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked happily. "I'm so glad to see you!"
Malfoy quirked a brow. "Well, now I'm certain you're polyjuiced, Granger. You're admitting you missed my gorgeous mug?"
"I'm spoken for, Malfoy," she reminded him, tapping her collar. "Oh, I have something for you!"
She reached into her robe and pulled out the letter and handed it to him. At his fearful look, Hermione gave him what she thought was a comforting smile. "It's not from him, Malfoy. It's from your dad. He dropped me off at the platform and told me to get it to you."
"My father dropped you off? As a wanted criminal?" Malfoy shoved Nott down a seat to sit next to her. "OK, Granger, give it to me. How are they? Tortured? In prison? My father won't tell me anything in this letter, so just tell me what is happening with them."
"They're fine, Malfoy," Hermione reassured him. "Actually, I would think your father was in his favour with how they were sipping tea together this morning."
Blaise laughed outright at that, earning all of the looks from around the table.
"I'm sorry," Blaise chuckled, "but he drinks something as mundane as tea? Not the blood of virgins?"
At the word virgin Hermione's blood ran cold. She clenched her hands, trying to retain some movement instead of freezing outright. It was just the previous last night that she had been forced to relive it. Her magic curled around her protectively, reminding her of the wholeness that came from her pain. She took deep breaths.
"Shoot, Granger, are you having a panic attack?" Daphne reached over, grabbing her hand.
"Not quite," Hermione murmured. "Sorry, give me a minute, I'll be fine."
Luckily, Dumbledore got up before the others could ask what the trigger was. He twinkled out to the students with a look of grandfatherly affection.
"It's the beginning of the end," Dumbledore announced to them all. "Namely, the end of the year. We welcome you all back to classes and hope you will do well to honour the houses and homes you represent over the remaining few months. Now, before we begin the feast, I have a few announcements.
"Firstly," Dumbledore continued, "our Astronomy classes will be held on the school grounds due to some construction necessary to keep the tower from wobbling. That being said, please hold your romantic rendezvous elsewhere for the time being."
The hall tittered with laughter, while Hermione was waiting anxiously for the announcement most would hate.
"Secondly, for those of you desiring extra help in OWLS or NEWTS studying, Professor Sinistra has offered to supervise student-led tutoring sessions in her classroom each Thursday night at seven. I advise all of you with exams to consider attending.
"And finally," Dumbledore's eyes fixed on hers briefly, and she unconsciously let her magic erect a shield around her skin, "we've had a student recently re-sorted. I'm sure Slytherin will welcome Miss Hermione Granger as one of their own. Let the feast begin!"
Nobody focused on the food. Hermione could see the Slytherins around her subtly holding onto their wands, as if expecting an attack. The Great Hall was loud and noisy with cries of indignation or concern. Hermione couldn't help it, her eyes slid over to the Gryffindor table to find her friends. Her heart stopped.
Ron looked furiously at her, as if he couldn't understand it. Harry, though, was the hardest to see. One look at his face told her he was blaming himself for what happened to her, and she felt her gut clench guiltily. It wasn't his fault she went in blindly, performing illegal magic. But she couldn't speak to him, per the Headmasters instructions. She tried to ignore the clenching in her stomach as she turned back to the table and put some salad onto her plate, determined to eat but finding everything else looked like it was too much. Mammsy would kill her for only having a little to eat, but she honestly couldn't get much past the lead stone that seemed lodged in her gut.
No one dared to speak against the teachers, but the murmurs continued all throughout dinner. The meal ending wasn't the end of the buzzing. People swarmed together in gossiping droves, but her Slytherin entourage directed her away from them. They didn't stop Harry from approaching though, and they parted so her friend could approach.
"Harry, you can't talk to me," Hermione pleaded with him.
"No, I can't. But I can do this." He gathered Hermione in a hug, pulling her tightly against him. Hermione felt her throat clench. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so, so sorry."
Hermione felt her arms shake as she went to put them around her brother. "I'm sorry too, Harry. I'm sorry I failed you."
"Don't you dare, 'Mione," Harry held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I've been thinking for days on what I would say to you when I saw you, and you're going to let me say it."
Hermione shut her lips.
"Hermione, I may not be able to spend any time with you this year, but that doesn't mean you're any less of a friend," Harry told her. "This week was a wakeup call, Hermione. I'm going to do anything in my power to beat him, and I'm going to get you free. I promise."
Hermione started tearing up. "Harry . . ."
"You both are lucky I remembered silencing charms," Draco inputted from the sidelines.
"Shut it, Malfoy," just about everyone chorused.
There was a hint of silence. "Hermione, Dumbledore told us what happened to you."
Hermione reared on Harry. The pity in his eyes was evident, and it tore at her. She couldn't face that with him. Not with her brother-like friend who already felt guilty enough. "Harry, please, no. You can't take any responsibility for what happened to me, not even for a second. It was about me this time, not about you. He took me because of what I did, not because of you."
"But…" He looked at her with such hurt on her behalf.
She glared at him. "Harry Potter, if you look at me like a victim one more time I will hex you."
Harry's bowed his head in shame. "I didn't mean to, 'Mione."
"I know. Believe me, I'm know, but…" she pushed the words out, even though they hurt her heart, "you need to go, Harry. I love you so much, but I can't be your friend until this is over."
"I will end it," Harry vowed, fixing his green eyes on hers. "For you."
They hugged tightly aware that it was goodbye until the end. With a final glance, Harry disappeared into the crowd of people leaving the Great Hall, and Hermione felt the loss of his leaving. She needed to be alone now. She needed to run.
She sped through her new group of friends and into the side-passageway that led to the Great Lake. The echoes in the hallways alerted her to Malfoy chasing after her, calling her last name. Hermione kept running, hoping to get him to leave her alone. She needed to transform. She felt herself shutting down, and needed to be free of humanity if only for a few minutes. When she reached the exit from the castle, she jumped without a second thought before landing as a margay.
Before she could take another step in her for, she found herself swept up in the familiar smelling arms of Draco Malfoy. He held her a small length away from his body, observing her. She gave him an irritated hiss that made him smirk.
"Never expected you to be the illegal type, Granger," Malfoy announced. "Probably shouldn't let anyone see you shift, though, as it kind of defeats the purpose of being illegal, doesn't it. Still, you are quite beautiful like this, as … well, as whatever you are, it is a shame not to show anyone. Well, I give you permission to change in front of me anytime you want now."
He winked. "Now, do you want to switch back now? It feels weird flirting with a cat."
Hermione refused to reply, instead curling into his arms. He had to pull her close to his chest to avoid dropping her.
"Granger, I may not like Potter, but I don't know what he said to make you run like that," Malfoy told her. "It all sounded fine to me. And yet, whatever it was, it was bad enough that you're now a cat and refusing to turn back. Should I go hex him?"
Hermione hissed and clawed at his arm, making him yelp. "Bloody hell, Granger, OK, I'll leave Potter alone. Sheesh. Well, come on, if it wasn't him, you should shift back."
She refused with a shake of her head. Draco sighed. "Fine, but no hissing or biting me while I carry you, OK? I think you and I need to go for a walk."
Hermione had no intention of switching back to human yet, but she felt tempted to do it just so that Malfoy would drop her. Still, the feeling of being carried against his chest was comforting, and she let herself be held against his seeker's chest.
"I don't think you'll mind Uncle Severus knowing about this, will you?" Malfoy asked her. "I'm taking us down to the dungeons. He's probably more who you want to talk to right now, although he likes Potter nearly as much as I do. But still, whatever happened to you, Severus probably knows about it. I don't know what Potter was talking about, what You-Know-Who did to you, but he will. Unless you'd like to tell me?"
Hermione shook her head resolutely, eyes still firmly shut.
"OK then."
Draco pushed open the door to the Potions Master's room and Hermione opened her eyes. Snape was reading at his desk, but upon seeing Draco with a strange cat in his arms he shut his book and rose from his desk.
"I'm surprised Miss Granger allowed you to see her form," Snape drawled.
"You knew?" Draco groaned. "Granger, you're killing me. I thought I finally got one up on my godfather."
Draco held her out to Professor Snape, who merely quirked a brow as he accepted her into his arms. He smelt nice, like herbs and masculinity. Hermione buried her face into his robes. "Why are you giving me my student?"
"She got depressed after her run-in with Potter and won't shift back," Draco told him. "Something about Potter knowing what the Dark Lord did to her, I don't know what that means. Since you two are friends…"
"Repeat that sentiment to anyone outside this room and you will feel my ire, Draco," Snape warned him severely.
"Whatever you say," Draco said. "Now, will you help her?
"I think depressed cats are more Minerva's specialty," Snape remarked sarcastically, "however, Miss Granger will be cared for, you have my word."
Draco nodded and with a final glance at Hermione shuffled through to the delinquent chambers. Snape looked at the cat in his arms for a moment, before deciding something. He took her through to his own chambers so he could sit her upon his lap, sitting upon his highbacked armchair. He didn't speak, and for once Miss Granger was incapable of speech herself. He suspected that part of becoming an animal was intentional on her part, as she wouldn't be forced to speak of what ailed her. He had his own guess.
They had gone over multiple times in their occlumency lessons her disgust at her own feelings for the Dark Lord, but her shields were so strong over her memories of her violation that Severus and her had never addressed the assured lingering problems. There were so many things that could result from such a traumatic experience, such as anxiety, depression, self-harm, and more. He had yet to see her exhibit anything but anxiety and guilt, although from Minerva's description of her in the Hospital Wing she'd had associative post-traumatic stress for the first bit as well.
He hadn't thought Potter would tell her he knew what had happened, but he knew that had put her into this state. What he didn't know was how to convince her to leave it. He stroked the dense collection of spots just behind her ears, clearly meant to represent her hair, and thought the best thing to do for Miss Granger was to tell her why.
"Your capture was brought to their attention after I first saw you in the Dark Lord's chambers," Snape told her quietly. "They were with the rest of the Order and with your parents, awaiting word of your whereabouts. Because of the nature of your capture, we naturally had to ask those closest to you as to whether you remained virginial, and Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter were the best suspects for any romantic entanglements. From that point, we could not keep them from knowing what was to befall you, and that it had once you returned to us."
Severus sighed. "So, yes, those members of the Order who need to know do, as do your friends and your parents. All other have no clue. Certainly not Mundungus, the rat. I could present you with a comprehensive list, if you like?"
He heart a little cat scoff, and assumed, if she wasn't coughing up a hairball, that it was a laugh. "Unfortunately, Miss Granger, though this is a personal failure and tragedy for you, it is also could be pivotal in the war. I would wish for no young woman to experience what you did, and even less wish for her to have it common knowledge. Yet, that is your lot. You can remain in this state if you wish, but that will not change or help you confront it."
Severus continued to stroke her, unsure of what to say next. Miss Granger didn't seem to mind, remaining still in his lap.
"For what it's worth, Hermione," Snape experimented with her name, using his voice softly in a way as of yet unfamiliar, "you have a great many friends, all willing to support you. And I, I would be honoured to be counted among their number."
He felt a shift in the magic in the air. Hermione emerged from her cat form and, still perched on his lap, enveloped him in a massive hug. He felt her tears drop onto the shoulder of his robes as she clung to him, sobbing. Hesitantly, slowly, he returned her embrace.
It took a long time, with him taking many minutes before he could be comfortable. Finally, with a final choked sob, Hermione leaned away just enough to look at him. "Thank you, Professor. Thank you."
For the first time in his adult life, he restrained the tears that threatened to fill his vision at the sight of the curly-haired witch looking at him with gratitude in her own tear-filled eyes. He felt a nearly paternal attachment to the girl, and he knew he would do anything she asked to provide her happiness. He swallowed heavily. "I believe, as your friend, it might be appropriate for you to call me Severus in private."
Her watery smile made his heart warm. "Thank you, Severus. I'm glad to have you on my side."
"Always," he promised her. He tucked her into his chest and held her tightly there, as if she were his own spawn. "I will protect you from now on."