AN: Firstly, I posted and extra chapter this week so please make sure you have read chapter 16 before this one!

Secondly, and on a more serious note, this chapter references sexual assult. There are no details and there never will be but it's not really a part of the chapter you can skip. That being said, I will always include trigger warnings before any chapter that discusses it but I know its a senstive topic for a lot of people and I want to respect that.

TW: Injury, Torture, Sexual Assult

January 1977

Returning to the castle was strange, the mood so different from before Christmas. It seemed the weeks away had resolved much of the remaining tensions. That combined with the promise Hogsmeade trips were back on and would now be accompanied by a host of Aurors had done much to dismiss the previously dismal atmosphere.

Instead, spirits remain high for much of the first few weeks of term for everyone but Hermione. She spent the time researching as much as possible, anxieties over the future having reappeared. Outside of classes, she holed up in her dorm, barely sleeping and avoiding everyone as she frantically searched through the new set of books Pandora had 'borrowed' from her family library. The promise she had made to herself about refocusing on her efforts against Tom Riddle not forgotten.

Her hunt for a method of controlling fiendfyre had so far been unsuccessful, but some of the new acquisitions had shown promise. Mainly suggesting it was a matter of channelling your intentions into the flames. Something that would likely prove problematic in the presence of a Horcrux so Hermione knew she would need to practice before she ever got near one. Not that she knew where to do so, considering there were few places it would be safe to conjure the cursed flames.

As much as she wished she could continue with her research on the topic, it wasn't the only area that needed investigating. Combined with the necessity she maintained her studious appearance, Hermione found herself in the library thumbing through a book on Wizarding genealogy as she tried to learn more about where Riddle could have hidden his Horcruxes.

For all she had hidden away from the world, when she did leave the confines of her room Hermione had always been accompanied by Remus or Pandora. So she was alone in public for the first time in weeks when he found her.

Hermione rarely interacted with Severus Snape; they shared few classes, and she had no desire to associate with him outside of them. As he rounded the corner to the narrow aisle she was standing in though; disdain instantly crossed his face.

She knew she had done nothing to the boy, but the few times they had interacted he had made his opinion of her clear. He considered her some kind of Marauder groupie, his hatred of Remus and her brother's band of friends spilling over onto her.

Hermione had never let it bother her. And now, with the knowledge, Snape would only defect from Voldemort because he had endangered Lily Evans, not caring for her husband or son, or even that he had willingly followed a blood-supremacist, Hermione found she had even fewer reasons to bother herself with his opinions.

The sins laid against him were numerous, after all. And even though many of those were the actions of a different, older Snape, Hermione knew what his intentions had been when he went to the Shack. At best, he had been hoping to expose Remus' condition if he hadn't had more sinister goals. So Hermione was unaffected by his sneering.

Snape though, quite clearly was furious with her and Hermione could only assume it was to do with the Incident. Part of her understood his anger, intentional or not Sirius had sent him to what may have been his death and that was unforgivable, but she had made her peace with Sirius' role in it. And while she still held Sirius accountable for what happened, Hermione knew Snape held a degree of responsibility too.

He had made the choice to go to the Shack after all. Even with his suspicions, and the years of research into lycanthropy, he had made the decision to endanger himself in his pursuit of proof . So, as much as he may blame Sirius, and her brother, and her, she laid it at his feet in equal measure.

Besides, Hermione knew if he weren't bound by an unbreakable vow, Snape gladly would have told everyone about Remus' condition. And that he had gone to the Shack in a desperate attempt to finally win one over on the Marauders, uncaring what sharing that information would mean.

Hatred was evident on his face as Snape addressed her, "Ahh, the Lupin bitch , finally shed your guard dog I see. And to hole up in the library too - need some alone time with the books? Tell me, is your bibliophilia the only thing you share with your brother."

They both knew he didn't believe what he was implying. Snape had spent far too long tracking Remus' movements not to realise she had none of the symptoms, nor disappeared periodically with the moon.

Still, he was hurt over what had happened and bound to silence. She was one of the few people he could take his frustrations out on. Not that she appreciated bearing the brunt of his anger.

"Snape." She pursed her lips, "How can I help you?" Her tone was cool, refusing to be baited by his petty comments.

He looked angered by her lack of reaction, sneering out his response. "The only thing you could possibly do for me is tell me that you're taking your disgusting brother and leaving this school for good."

"Well seeing as we both know that won't be happening anytime soon, I suggest you prepare yourself for disappointment. Why are you here, anyway?" She gestured to the dusty books surrounding them. The genealogy section was rarely visited, and Hermione was somewhat surprised he had even found her there.

"I could ask the same of you - genealogy books? Hoping to find something to redeem your muddied family tree?"

"No muddier than yours," she spat out, her plan not to react to his baiting forgotten. The weeks of stress and sleep deprivation made her quick to anger, and Remus was always a sensitive topic, so she found herself poking where she knew there was a bruise.

"Maybe not, but we both know there are things much worse than a muggle mother lurking in your family. Someone will figure it out eventually, you know."

"At least thanks to Sirius we know it won't be from you." It was a petty reply, but the threat of someone discovering Remus' lycanthropy was always a possibility and one she worried about constantly.

Besides, no one could claim she didn't have a vindictive streak when it came to protecting those she loved. Thinking of sneak spelt out in spots across Marietta Edgecombe's forehead, or Umbridge's face as she was dragged into the woods, it was hardly the worst thing she had done.

Still, Snape froze at her comment. Anger clear on his face but something else buried in the depths of his eyes too. Fear, Hermione thought, but it disappeared quickly, fury replacing it once more.

"True. You lot may have tricked me into a vow, but I'm sure with some hints someone will figure it out soon enough, and then that creature will get what he deserves."

This time it was Hermione who felt rage flash through her at the idea Snape would go so far as to try and break the vow, risking his own life, in his desperation for someone else to uncover the truth.

Stepping closer, she approached him slowly. Neither spoke at first, the two of them inches apart in the narrow stacks. It would have looked intimate with any other couple, but the waves of hatred rolling off them destroyed that notion.

Close as they were Hermione hissed her reply quietly, venom coating the words, "Maybe, but either way, I doubt it would be the last death you're responsible for."

Her words stunned him, not only into silence but into stepping backwards until his back was pressed against the shelves, "What?" he whispered, confused.

"Actions have consequences, and we all know what you hope to do when we leave Hogwarts."

Snape straightened his spine at her accusations. Hermione didn't know if it was at the implication he would be responsible for her brother's death or his desire to join Riddle's cause,but he was proud nonetheless. "Sometimes, change is necessary. Can't have dangerous beasts running around forever after all."

"Well, remember you thought that when it comes back to haunt you."

Logically, Hermione knew Snape's anger was his attempt at processing the Incident, but she wasn't about to let him get away without knowing the consequences of his desires.

If Snape was so determined to reveal the truth about Remus, Hermione wanted him to know the blood would be on his hands. And, that if she somehow failed entirely and the worst happened, Lily's blood would be there too.

Perhaps, it was a lot to make a seventeen-year-old Snape responsible for but she doubted he would take her warning for what it was. Not when there was the 'glory' of the Death Eater's waiting for him, a temptation he hadn't even been able to resist as an adult.

As they stood glaring at each other, both waiting for the other to lash out Kingsley rounded the corner, catching their obviously heated argument. Confusion crossed his features as he took in the sight, and Hermione felt dread building up in her stomach.

She hadn't said more than a few cursory words to Kingsley since the beginning of term. She felt guilty about it, yet another thing making her tense, but she just didn't know how to deal with the situation. Instead, hiding behind the doors of Ravenclaw Tower or Pandora and Remus' company.

This wasn't how she wanted their first real conversation in weeks to go at all. His face was questioning as he took the two of them in, and Hermione added another item to the list of things she could never tell him.

Mercifully, Kingsley didn't try and insert himself into the argument. Knowing she wouldn't have appreciated it. Instead, he questioned softly, "Hermione?"

As much as she had been avoiding him, Hermione smiled welcomingly while responding with an equally quiet, "Kingsley."

She had missed him, of course. The quiet companionship as they studied together. His reassuring presence at her side, their late-night or early-morning activities, and so she took the out when she saw it.

Muttering a goodbye to Snape, he didn't protest the dismissal. There was nothing he could have done in front of the Head Boy, and they both knew Kingsley knew nothing of what had happened.

Leaving the boy to sulk, Hermione led Kingsley through the aisles to their table for what she prayed wouldn't turn into an argument but knew almost inevitably would. For once, he sat opposite her rather than in his familiar position at her side. The distance between them palpable.

"How was your Christmas?" He started, and she was shocked he didn't immediately jump into the interrogation she knew was coming. Although, the question did hold a certain bitterness that was new.

"Okay. Quiet to be honest. What about you?" Her answer was hesitant, unsure of what he was looking for.

"Fine," he agreed, "The castle was pretty much empty so quiet too, I guess. I got a lot of work done."

"Good! Good," she rushed to agree, still nervous to break the delicate peace surrounding them. She knew as soon as he asked more personal questions she would clam up immediately.

"And your term?" Kingsley asked, "Not like I've actually seen you long enough to know."

Hermione cast her gaze down to the tabletop in shame. "I'm sorry," she sighed, "I've just been super busy. Didn't get as much class work done over the holiday as I hoped."

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Kingsley scoffed at her in disbelief, "Seriously, you expect me to believe Hermione Lupin, who studied herself into the Hospital Wing over OWLS but who also reads Mastery level works in her free time didn't have everything done before the holidays. It wasn't as if you had much else going on," he replied, subtly referencing the weeks before the holidays she had also drawn away from him. "Something's clearly up with you, Hermione, just let me help."

"You can't," she confessed, apologetic, "I told you, it was Remus' business."

"Yeah, and I accepted that, but he's been fine since you got back and I've still seen nothing of you."

He was right. As hesitant as the Marauder's rebuilt friendship was to those who truly knew them, from the outside it looked like nothing had ever happened. Likely the reason Snape was mad enough to start arguing with her.

"Really, everything's fine now," She tried to reassure him, but Kinglsey didn't buy it.

"Yeah? Then what was that with Snape?"

"Nothing. You know the boys and he don't get along. He just has difficulty separating me from Remus sometimes. I think he was looking for a fight more than anything." As she spoke Hermione, somehow, felt even more exhausted than before. The weeks of avoiding him had weighed heavily on her, and now they were talking, she wanted nothing more than the comfort of his arms around her, tight and reassuring. Shielding her from all her other worries the way they had after the attack.

She didn't want the argument to continue and knew she couldn't tell him everything but hoped giving him a few grains of truth was enough to make up for her distance even temporarily.

"I can't tell you very much," she said quietly. "I wasn't lying when I said it was Remus' business, but it was a more emotional Christmas than I probably could have done with. I haven't meant to be distant. I'm just still processing."

None of it was a lie, and yet she was still keeping so much from him Hermione thought it may as well have been. She could only hope it was enough to repair some of the damage of the last month, not that she had really told him anything.

While he didn't seem wholly convinced Kinglsey let out a large sigh and with it the tension dissipated from both of them.

"Fine. I won't pry, but if you need something …" he trailed off, but his meaning was clear. All may not be completely forgiven, but it was something, and the meeting wasn't as dismal as Hermione had feared.

"I know," she smiled, "If you can help, I'll ask," she reassured. Something inside her stinging with the lie.

The highland air was frigid, but Regulus refused to cast a warming charm. Something about the cold felt cleansing, like the biting wind off the Black Lake could remove the taint from the mark on his arm. So he sat, shivering, on the hidden bank as if it could help atone for his sins.

He knew it couldn't. The weeks after receiving the mark had been eye-opening. The mark itself was a sensation he could barely explain; his hairs constantly standing on end like someone was watching him. Being called was an even more unnerving experience. A burning pain that radiated through his nerves and a feeling of sudden fear, like the being he'd felt watching him had finally emerged from the darkness and was a truly terrifying creature.

He supposed that much was true, at least. The man whose mark had been burned to his very core was an even more disturbing creature than he could have imagined. That initial wrongness Regulus had felt in his presence having only grown more pronounced after he was initiated into the Death Eater's ranks.

Regulus knew he had got off easily compared to most of the Dark Lord's ranks. Many of the older, more dedicated followers expressing their disbelief at his easy acceptance. The Christmas holidays had been enlightening in that respect. Had he been anyone else the process of earning the mark would have required far more dedication on his part.

Dolohov had gleefully told him how he had earnt Voldemort's favour. Recounting tales of hunting down werewolves to experiment with new spells on. Claiming ' the filthy half-breeds were far more robust than mudbloods ' and 'were only good for experimenting on. '

He had earnt the mark for a spell that shot purple flames out of the caster's wand. They burnt the victim without fire, slowly liquifying their skin, bones and organs while they writhed in agony, conscious the whole time.

The Dark Lord seemed to appreciate the viciousness of the spell, but when Regulus had been granted the opportunity to witness its use, he had emptied his stomach as soon as he returned home. Unable to free himself from the pain in the unknown muggle girl's eyes as he had done nothing to stop her suffering, and generally sickened by its effects.

Even that paled in comparison to the tales he had heard of the usual initiation ceremony. How most of the followers had to prove their loyalty to the cause by casting whichever spells the Dark Lord directed upon whomever he dictated.

Bellatrix had done so gladly, casting crucio after crucio on her husband to the point Rodolphus still had tremors to this day. The nerve damage was so severe they would likely never subside and the damage done to his mind was still obvious too.

Regulus doubted it had been a hardship for Bellatrix. She was clearly devoted beyond all reason to her Master . It was the stories of Lucius' initiation that horrified him. While Bellatrix cared little for her husband, everyone knew it had been a political match, the same could not be said for Lucius and Narcissa.

His cousin's marriage had been a love match, and it was clear to anyone who witnessed their doting attentions, and the way affection shone out of both their eyes. It was only fortunate their parents had been all too willing to arrange a marriage between two pure families or Regulus suspected there would have been a repeat of the Andromeda situation.

As much as the idea of disobeying her parents would have upset Narcissa, Regulus knew she would have done it in a heartbeat were it the only way for her and Lucius to remain together.

It was what made the stories of Lucius' initiation ceremony all the more horrific. For his ceremony, Narcissa too had been brought before the Dark Lord. Her new husband had been forced to place her under the Imperius and have her 'service' any of Voldemort's followers who desired the use of his wife.

The Dark Lord had to be sure no one in his ranks considered little things such as wives more highly than himself after all. But from what Regulus knew, it would have happened no matter what. The only difference being that Lucius likely would not have been alive to cast the Imperius had he refused.

Still, it had irreparably damaged his cousin's marriage and explained her pale, withdrawn demeanour the few times he had seen her since their wedding. Lucius too suffered from the knowledge of what he had done. The two of them awkward around each other in a way they had never been before as they attempted to work through the situation they had been forced into.

Tales of the event were still passed between followers though. And suggestions had even been made to a pained Lucius that he should bring his wife to the revels they promised Regulus would be invited to once he left Hogwarts. Purebloods ever strange in their willingness to have a sixteen-year-old watch a murder and listen to stories of their obscenities but not attend the 'parties' where they continued with such horrors.

Not that Regulus wanted to go.

In fact, he prayed he never had to. But, Regulus knew the time would come when he had to participate in whichever twisted game Voldemort or one of his other followers came up with. Especially considering he had escaped suffering his own ceremony.

Not that the pain of receiving the mark hadn't made him ill for days after but he'd never had to injure his loved ones in the same way all the other's had. Having been accepted based solely on his family's name and reputation with promises of tasks to come.

Many of the older followers had sneered at his inclusion. Abraxas Malfoy and Thaddeus Nott merely casting their disapproving gaze over his form before returning to their conversation. Others had tried to encourage him with stories of the glory to be found in their ranks. And then there was Lucius, who still had a haunted look in his eye months after. The event weighing even heavier on him that it had Regulus when he learnt what his cousin had been put through.

The same cousin who had always been kind to him. Gentle Narcissa, who had cooed over small animals and smiled softly at babies with hope in her eyes. All of it shattered now. Leaving this strange, pale, imitation of her.

Thought's of Lucius' initiation filled Regulus with rage and sadness at the same time, but he knew there was nothing he could do for the couple. Apart from hope the love they held for each other was enough they could survive it.

Still, as haunted as Lucius looked, he had taken the time to pour Regulus his first firewhisky, and given him a reassuring pat to the shoulder as he processed watching the muggle girl struggle in pain on the Nott's ballroom floor.

Part of him wished he could run to Sirius in the way he had when they were younger. His older brother was always willing to take the blow to protect him from their mother's wrath and their father's disinterest.

He had been dismayed by Sirius' sorting when he was younger, but he understood it more now. Sirius was never going to be the perfect Black heir their parents wanted and would have rather died than participate in any of what Regulus had witnessed.

Gryffindor had given him a way out. Besides, while Regulus knew Sirius had Slytherin traits, they were far outweighed by his Gryffindor ones so there was never really another option.

To a ten-year-old Regulus though, Sirius's sorting had felt like a betrayal, and he reacted accordingly. Over the years, as Sirius had maintained his protector status, at least while at home, he had come to understand why it happened, but at that point, the damage had been done.

Sirius' brashness never gave him the opportunity to seek forgiveness and then last Christmas, Sirius had abandoned him all over again. Leaving him to the mercy of their parents and the Dark Lord. Not that he knew Regulus didn't want any part of it.

He had never been like Sirius; fascinated by the Muggle world and desperate to learn more about it. It wasn't that he considered them lesser; he just had no interest in them and wasn't willing to risk the wrath of their parents to explore traitorous topics.

Sirius had never understood that though, so determined to defy them, he openly flaunted his fascination. Befriending Muggleborns and Blood-traitors alike, relishing the small parts of Muggle culture he could access.

It was something they had fought about constantly. Sirius failed to understand that Regulus's lack of desire to anger their parents didn't mean he subscribed to their views. He didn't think Muggleborns stole magic, an impossibility if you thought about it. Regulus just felt they would benefit from being better educated about the world they were entering.

It was different, after all. Different governments, and values, and practices. But he had never brought into the other ideas about Muggleborns, that they were dirty or whatever else their parents had told him. He just hadn't known any better until as a first-year an older Ted Tonks had informed him quite how rude the word Mudblood was. He knew Sirius had had a similar experience, as much as he liked to claim he'd always known better.

Either way, Sirius' low opinion of him meant Regulus couldn't seek him out for help. Sirius wouldn't even begin to hear him out, and once he confessed to taking the mark that he had fought so hard against Regulus knew he would be dismissed completely.

So he had no other options but to contemplate the dark future lying ahead of him. One filled with the Dark Lord's wishes and the promise of a haunted expression like Lucius Malfoy's.

Regulus felt a figure come and sit on the frozen ground next to him as he was contemplating it. He was shocked anyone had found him so far from the castle. Especially during winter when few ventured away from the warmth of their common rooms.

Turning to face them, he was surprised to discover it was Pandora. The Ravenclaw had appeared halfway through the last term, expressing the desire to learn more about her new cousin. Not that they were really related, he had accepted her presence as she seemed too determined for him to deny it.

Looking at her now Regulus couldn't tell if she knew of the suffering her brother and his wife had endured. Her face impassive, but he still felt strangely reassured by her presence. By the fact someone had bothered to seek him out following the weeks he had drawn away from everyone, terrified someone would discover the mark.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Enjoying their time watching the pinky sky as the sun set over the lake, colours dulled by the cold but beautiful all the same. When the final rays started dipping below the horizon, Pandora started,

"Christmas was hard." Regulus didn't know if she meant for her or him but nodded nonetheless. "We can't always help the things we are forced into." She continued, deadly serious for the first time he had known her and Regulus found himself entranced by her words.

"There will always be people who can help you though, and they won't care what you've done to survive, only what you'll do to get out of it." He processed her words but didn't understand them, not knowing how anyone could help him out of the situation he had found himself in.

"Regulus," she continued anyway, and he turned to face her. Taken back by the haze of her eyes but the absolute clarity in her voice. "You will discover a truth so horrible it will feel as if there is only one, permanent , way out." He went cold at her words, mind spinning desperately as he tried to understand what she was telling him. " You must remember that's not the case. There is always another way, and there will always be someone you can trust to help. I promise ."