Hi, y'all. I apologize in advance if this feels like teeth pulling. I'm spiraling pretty badly right now, and this part is not easy to write. I'm pulling on my depression and trauma for Hermione's reactions.Please practice self care while you read. I'm reachable through my Facebook page for this, LiterarianRose FanFic.Onto the story!
The next week passed much of the same way the first day at home did. She slept and had nightmares.
Ron had sent Errol multiple times, but Hermione just gave him a treat and sent him back to the Weasley's with the letters still attached to his leg. Hedwig was harder to send away without taking the letter, so Hermione would take the letter from her, give her a treat, and then throw the letter out as soon as Hedwig flew away.
Hermione was not interested in talking to her friends. Now that she was home and allowed herself to wallow, she was angry at them for not noticing her pain. How could they not realize she had stopped eating? How could they not notice the bags under her eyes? They were supposed to be her best friends, but instead, a girl she shared a mutual hatred with and her enemy from day one noticed and called her out on it. Malfoy had even made her promise to eat. She felt a little guilty for not following through on her unspoken promise, but she also didn't owe Malfoy anything.
At the moment, Hermione was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her back yard. Her parents had left for the practice after waking her up to tell her that they had prepared her a lunch. She wouldn't eat it. Just like all the other meals they had prepared her over the last week. She took vitamins and drank water. Sometimes, she would drink a Gatorade just to appease her parents. They seemed to like when she consumed calories.
As soon as her parents left, she went outside. The grass was itchy on her legs, but the irritation had faded sometime around noon. The sun was starting to set, so she knew her parents would be home soon. The only time
she had moved throughout the day was to go inside to the bathroom, but she rarely had to go. Sitting outside made her feel better. It felt like an illusion of productivity. After all, doctors always said that fresh air could cure all ills. Hermione scoffed at the idea now. How could fresh air cure her of her memories of a whip against her vagina.
Crooks kept her company most days, but today, a female cat had wandered into the yard, and Crooks had chased her around before following her off somewhere. As it was, though, Hermione didn't care that she was alone. She didn't really think of anything while she sat alone all day, every day. She just stared at the world around her, her eyes seeing but her mind not noticing.
Her blank stares were the reason why she hadn't heard or seen her father come out to sit in front of her. She only noticed when he reached out to touch her. She was immediately scrambling back and begging not to be hurt. Her begs to not be hurt immediately turned into apologies for thinking she had a say.
Hermione's father froze where he sat. He came out here to see if she would eat just a little something, maybe part of a muffin with jam or honey on it. Instead, his daughter had scrambled away, begged him not to hurt her, and then apologized for assuming she had a say. He didn't know what to think, but what he knew was that something terrible had happened to his daughter. He would try to intercept one of the owls next time they came and get a letter to Professor McGonagall. He knew how much Hermione admired the woman. He just hoped that she could help.
His first priority, however, was to get his daughter to calm down. He figured he would start by talking to her in a soothing voice, and she did seem to still her body's panic, but her eyes were still frantic.
"Hermione... Mi... You're safe here. No one will hurt you. Your mom just wants you to eat. Please. I.." Hermione's eyes were calming down, and she stared at her dad. "I want you to eat. Please, sweetheart, just a few bites? For us?"
Hermione stared at her dad. They never came out here. Her parents would call out from the backdoor that they were home, then that they were eating, and then when they were going to bed. She slowly crossed her legs again and swallowed roughly.
"I... I'm not" Hermione made the mistake of looking at her dad just then, and hesitated. He looked so pained and worried. She could eat a few bites. Just for him. "I... a few bites... of... Shepherd's Pie?"
Her father beamed at her, and she felt proud of herself. She was doing something right. Before Hermione could stop herself, she immediately thought "I won't get hurt tonight." She wasn't even really aware of the fact that she associated her father's pride with not getting whipped, she just knew she was safe for that moment.
"Of course! I'll bring you out some!" Hermione stared after her father as he rushed inside. She could see him animatedly talking to her mum. Then, both her parents disappeared to the kitchen.
Hermione hated eating. Since she hadn't been eating much at all, there was nothing to cause a bowel movement. Her colon remained mostly empty. She didn't want to have to poop, and she certainly did not want an enema again. Having anything come out of her rear just brought horrible memories to mind.
Her father returned after awhile with a heaping serving of Shepherd's Pie, which immediately made Hermione balk. Her father noticed and his anxiety grew.
"You... you don't have to eat it all." Hermione internally frowned at the pain in her father's voice. "I... I just wanted to give you the option of more without you having to move."
Hermione nodded and took the bowl. The sheer weight of a bowl full of food had her arms instantly shaking, and she lowered it down onto her crossed legs, not noticing the burns that started on her legs from the heat of the bowl.
Ever so slowly, she picked up the fork and scooped a little tiny bit of the potatoes onto it. She knew she needed to eat. She could feel her father's eyes on her hand. She knew she was breaking her parent's hearts, she just couldn't find it in herself to care.
Before she could change her mind, she touch a bite.
Hermione instantly remembered why Shepherd's Pie was one of her favorite dishes, especially her mother's. The dish was always so flavorful and homey. It was practically comfort on a fork. Before she realized what she was doing, she was putting huge forkfuls of food into her mouth.
In that instant, she couldn't remember why she hadn't been eating. All she knew was that food was delicious. But when she heard her father take in a shuddering breath, she was drawn from her desire to eat for comfort. The noise her father had made had reminded her of the shuddering breaths she had taken when Dolohov had kicked her in the stomach until she couldn't hold her bowels anymore.
Hermione was sick to her stomach. Not only because eating meant she would have to poop, but also because she had just gorged herself after weeks of not eating any true substanice. She quickly got up from the ground and marched herself up to her room.
Hermione laid down on her bed, wincing at the feeling of a full stomach, and began to sob again. She didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to have nightmares, but even staying awake didn't stop her from feeling the pain Dolohov had put her through. Nothing helped. She contemplated then if life was worth it. She was pretty sure that she would never be able to function again, so why bother with the charade. If only Malfoy, bloody fucking Malfoy, hadn't stopped her from jumping. She wouldn't be in this turmoil now.
Before she knew it, she was fast asleep lost in the same nightmare: what would have happened if Dolohov hadn't let Crabbe Sr. deposit her in Hogsmeade.
Dolohov was behind her while Crabbe Sr stood in front of her. She needed to be punished more for not pleasing her Daddy. Maybe it would make him feel better. She knew a cry of pain when she heard one. She just needed to stop crying from her embarrassment and then she would ask.
"You wanted something, Mudblood," Dolohov took this opportunity to smear the chilli oil leaking out of her ass into her cunt. He loved watching her squirm in pain.
"Mudblood," Dolohov punctuated her title with a rough slap to her ass. "What did you want?"
Hermione swallowed roughly. She needed to speak. She looked up at Crabbe Sr and noticed that he was rubbing his bulge while staring at her. She would behave. She had to. But first, she needed to be properly punished for not doing what her Daddy had asked her.Hermione swallowed again.
"I... I need to be punished" Hermione blinked her eyes tight. "I displeased you, Daddy. I didn't listen." She had to stifle a sob to continue. She didn't want to be whipped, but she needed a punishment."I need you to whip me again."
Dolohov and Crabbe Sr locked eyes over Hermione's bound form. She wanted to be punished? Not only punished, but whipped as well. Dolohov was excited that she was already so broken, but he wanted to break her more. He just had to think of how. Who was he kidding, he knew exactly how: take away her belief that she was human, that she was even an "I" entity.
Dolohov walked away from Hermione to his array of hitting instruments. He also wondered if he should clamp her nipples for this punishment. She would look pretty with dark purple nipples, and her screams when he released them would be exquisite. Now, did he want her to associate immense pain with orgasms this soon... Yes, yes he did.He picked up a vibrator with a rabbit vibrator attachment, nipple clamps, and a cane. She would learn her place quickly. With everything gathered in his hands, he turned back to Hermione's bond form.
Hermione awoke in the dead of night in a cold sweat. Her feet were tangled in her blankets, and Crooks was curled up in the corner of her bed by her pillow... a location that kept him safe from her flailing legs and arms and from her tossing her head back forth. As soon as she took her first ragged breath before her sobs, Crooks was on her chest headbutting her. Unlike most cats, he didn't stretch before he moved. His mistress needed him, and he would be there.
She wrapped her arms tightly around Crooks while sitting up. He hated to be held like this, but he had accepted it every single night since she had returned from... from Dolohov. She wanted to call it her rape. She really did, but she didn't know how to accept what had happened. And he didn't just rape her. No. Is it possible for one to rape one's self? She felt like that was what Dolohov had made her do. And him and Crabbe Sr. had played her body like a fiddle, knowing exactly how to manipulate her into her orgasms, just confusing her mind.
She was a little over a month out from the ordeal, and she still felt everything like it was yesterday. She was utterly humiliated. She had cum by... by fucking herself in the ass while also getting burnt from chilli oil. Then, she had cum again from Crabbe Sr. She wasn't sure if he noticed, but her orgasm had grown in strength when he had slammed his fingers into her ass. He had done it so quickly, without any warning, that he had caused more pain. Her asshole had torn from the enlarged dildo, and those cuts had been on fire from the chilli oil. When he had slammed his fingers into her, the cuts had reopened a little bit more, perhaps they had even gotten bigger.
Was her reaction due to what had already transpired, or was her reaction truly who she was? Did she enjoy pain? Would pain always heighten her orgasms? Being the academic that she was, she knew that research was in order. She cringed at the realization that this problem, these questions, required practical applications. It didn't really matter, though. Now, after he virginity had been roughly torn from her being, sex meant nothing. All Hermione really wanted was to not get punished.
Hermione finally released Crooks and laid back down. Maybe there were resources online that she could use. Since the internet was just getting started, she wondered if she would be able to find anything from rape victims. After all, part of her reasons for staying silent were based in the fact that she didn't know a single person who had been raped. Rape was not talked about. It was shameful.
For the first time in weeks, Hermione fell asleep with a research plan on her mind instead of fear for the terrors that would come while she slept.