Hermione's healing is her own. My therapists have always told me that healing in anyway is healthy. I used to scratch my skin open during flashbacks or while in situations that made me anxious. Now, I snap a hair tie against my wrist. I still break skin occasionally, but not as quickly. It is still self-harm.
Reach out to a sexual assault hotline if you are struggling. We are not alone. Reach out to me if you need to talk. My DMs are a safe space.
Hermione slept the rest of the day. In her sleep, the bruises bloomed across her neck into the shape of fingers. Her hips were a mass of bruises so varying in color that the men had grabbed her so roughly and so many times was extraordinarily obvious. The inside of her lips were bruised, and her lips themselves were swollen from the brutal treatment she had received. Her chin also sported a bruise itself from when Sam had grabbed her to inform her that the final round was not an option.
Around 3 in the afternoon, Hermione began to slowly wake. She kept her eyes shut, though. If she didn't open her eyes, maybe she could pretend that everything that had happened was a lie. As she moved to pull the blanket tighter around her, though, she knew that she couldn't ignore the truth of what had happened. Her entire body screamed in agony. It even hurt to swallow due to the rough face fucking that Sam had forced on her. Her hips ached something fierce, and that wasn't even mentioning the pain that her vagina and arsehole were in.
Although her attempt at research had failed miserably, she did think she had one answer: most men were predisposed to violence against women. The men in her life that had not hurt her were outliers to the norm. Yes, Dolohov and Crabbe were Death Eaters, but they still hurt her. Well, Crabbe not so much, but he would have if given the time. Sam, Collin, and Luke were not in any gang or dark association from what she could tell. To be honest, they just seemed like college socialites, and they had taken what they wanted from her body without a care in the world that there was someone actually living in her body. Therefore, men were predisposed to violence against women. The thought made her pause, though. Was it all women that men treated as holes to fill, or was it women who portrayed themselves as strong or who were intelligent? She honestly couldn't decide.
Hermione's stomach grumbled and hurt out of hunger for the first time in weeks. Hermione knew that she had lost a lot of weight. She would be an idiot to not have noticed that. Well, her pre-Dolohov self would have argued that she was an idiot for not eating, but that wasn't the point. Maybe she would actually eat whatever her dad tried to give her that night. Hopefully, it was something light. She honestly didn't think she could keep anything more down since she hadn't really been eating.
Hermione rolled to the edge of the bed and winced as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. She slowly raised her eyes to look at her nude body in the mirror across from her bed. Who she saw in the mirror barely looked like herself. A few of her lower ribs poked out and housed bruises of their own from the rough treatment of the night before. Her hip bones peaked over her abdomen and were sickening to look at because of the bruises. Her neck almost looked painted due to the bruising. As she stood up to cross to her wardrobe, she made the executive decision to not look at her backside. She did not want to see the bruises that coved her there. She reached into her wardrobe and found an oversized Disney t-shirt. She pulled that on over her head and grimaced at how huge it was on her. The shirt had always been large, but now she seemed to drown in it. Either way, she rummaged and found a pair of old underwear, smaller than the size she had worn for the past year. She also found a pair of workout shorts that she wore the summer after third year. When she slid those on and they fit almost loosely, she began to realize that she hadn't just had a slight appetite decrease, she was truly not consuming anything. She almost felt guilt for the worry her parents must be feeling, but all she felt was shame for what Dolohov had done to her and what she had done to herself the night before.
Hermione slowly walked across the hall to her bathroom and filled a glass with water. As soon as the first droplet hit her tongue, she realized how thirsty she truly was. Though it hurt to swallow, she all but inhaled the water. As she began to fill up her glass a second time, her stomach started to revolt. She dropped the glass into the sink, momentarily glad to see that it didn't shatter, and placed a hand over her mouth. Hermione continued to slowly swallow and shake her head back and forth. She didn't want to throw up. She had hated the sensation ever since she was a child. She stayed this way, covering her mouth and hunched over her sink for almost 30 minutes. Finally, her stomach began to settle, and she left the bathroom to take up her regular position of sitting in her backyard staring into the trees.
An hour or so later, Hermione watched as an owl swooped down to land in front of her. She did register that the owl didn't seem to have a letter or anything at all to give her, he just sat there and tilted his head from side to side. She swore that she recognized the black-banded owl, but she couldn't place it. He had to be a magical owl, for he seemed to know her and was glad to have found his mark.
Slowly, the owl approached her. Hermione was surprised to feel the soft feathers of his head against the palm of her hand, for she did not remember lifting her hand towards the bird. The bird looked at her sorrowfully, as if he understood what the bruises all over her body were from. Looking into his onyx eyes, Hermione could not stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. The fleeting thought that her body shouldn't be physically capable of producing tears due to her extreme malnutrition passed through her head. The owl's hoot drew her attention out of her thoughts. He hopped onto her legs, which were folded underneath her, but he stepped lightly and miraculously placed his feet in some of the only spots that were not littered with bruising. He pecked gently at her upper arm, not catching her skin but capturing her shirt in his beak and pulled. It took Hermione's addled brain to register what he was doing and why, but when she lightly wrapped her arm around the bird, he released her shirt and who'd up at her.
Hermione's parents came home around 7 PM as they usually did. Some of their peers thought the Granger's insane for keeping their practice open so late, but they maintained that until they didn't have patients that valued their after-work appointments, they would keep the practice open late.
"Dear," Mrs. Granger whispered over her shoulder as they entered the house, "Do you think an owl will come soon? We just need an owl to send a letter to Harry. He can help, I know he can. We just don't have anyway to reach him. What if it is too late?" Mrs. Granger was starting to speak faster, though she still kept her voice hushed. "What if she has done permanent damage to her organs? What if she needs a transplant of some kind? What if she kills herself before we…"
Mr. Granger rushed forward and cupped his wife's face in his hands and leaning his forehead against hers.
"Breathe, love. Just breathe. I truly believe that she has not done permanent damage to her body in less than six months. Remember," Mr. Granger tipped her face up so he could look in her eyes, "She wasn't sick at Easter. She was fine. So, all of this, all of the weight loss, it has happened in the last three or four months."
Mrs. Granger nodded her head in her husband's hands and brought one of her hands up to hold his hand as she nuzzled her face into it. She did so briefly, and then wiped the tears from her eyes to go watch her daughter through the kitchen window like she did almost every day. She glanced without really seeing at first as she reached for a glass to fill with some water. Once she placed the glass under the faucet and turned on the water, she took stock of her daughter. From the window, she could see Hermione's vertebrae as she curled in on herself. Mrs. Granger couldn't help but to see the discoloration on Hermione's arms and legs. As she stared at her seemingly broken daughter, she noticed that Hermione was holding something to her chest.
"WENDELL!" Mrs. Granger's voice echoed through the house, as did the clanking of her glass as it fell into the sink. Mr. Granger's footsteps sounded as he rushed towards his wife.
"Mon! Mon, what happened!?" He rushed out as he gripped his wife's arms and tried to find the source of her scream. It dawned on him in horror that something might have happened to Hermione. Just as he began to turn his head, his wife spoke in an elated gasp.
"She has an owl. Wendell, we can talk to Harry. We can send him our letter." Mrs. Granger threw her arms around her husband's shoulders. "We can get our little girl the help she needs."
Mr. Granger wrapped his arms around his sobbing wife and stared out at their daughter. His grip tightened as he saw the bruises covering her body. He knew he couldn't go out screaming, demanding explanations for the wounds covering his precious daughter's body, but it took everything in him to not do just that. His daughter was very obviously getting abused.
"Mon… I'm going to go talk to her," Mr. Granger moved his hands to lightly grip his wife's shoulders and pushed her gently away from him. "I want to see if I recognize the owl."
His wife simply nodded and collapsed her hands over her chest as she watched her husband go out to their daughter.
Mr. Granger slowly approached his daughter for he knew that she was easily startled now, and the beating she had apparently taken would not help matters.
"Hermione… Hermione, love?" Mr. Granger gently said as he walked up to be directly on her right. "Hermione? Will you eat today, love? Please… Not a lot. Just some calories. Please?"
Mr. Granger walked a few more steps forwards before stopping. He never sat in front of her during the times he would try to talk to her or just keep her company. He always tried to sit on her right side and fully within her peripheral vision.
He tried to hide his surprise when he saw her eyes come into focus and her head turned towards him. He couldn't stifle the gasp of horror that escaped his mouth when he clearly saw her bruised lips and the various bands of bruises across her neck. He also couldn't stop the automatic jerk towards her. As soon as his mind registered her flinch away from him following his jerking motion, his entire body stilled. All he wanted to do was hold his little girl, but she was clearly petrified of everything. He was glad to see some form of emotion on her face, however, since the last month had been nothing but blank stares. He looked down at the owl as Hermione's face dropped to the top of the bird's head.
"Hermione, whose owl is this?" Mr. Granger was frustrated. He had never in his life seen this bird before. Hermione had told him that all wizarding owls could find any wizard in their human form, but he just could not accept that. There was no way a bird was that intelligent. What if the witch or wizard moved every few weeks, would the owl still deliver the mail quickly and accurately?
Mr. Granger sighed when he saw Hermione shrug in answer to his question. He glanced around for any sign of paper. It didn't make sense that there would be an owl but no mail to speak of. It especially didn't make sense if Hermione didn't even know who the bird belonged to. Because Mr. Granger was thinking so much about whose owl was in his daughter's arms, he almost missed her weak whisper.
"Can I have a smoothie?" Hermione finally found the courage to talk. When her dad didn't answer her immediately, she felt like an imposition and a bother. "It's fine if 'no.' I don't want to bother anyone." She paused for barely a second. "I'm sorry. I'm not a good girl. I don't listen. Daddy, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me, daddy. I'm so sorry." Hermione broke down into sobs.
Mr. Granger couldn't stay still any longer at the sounds of his daughter's sobs and apologies. He rushed forward and pulled Hermione, and the owl due to her grip on the bird, to his chest.
"Shh love. Of course, you can have a smoothie. You just caught me off guard." Mr. Granger started playing with her curls like he always had when she was little and upset. "I'm not mad. I was just surprised. I'm sure your mother would love to make you a smoothie. Heck, I would love to make you a smoothie, but I know you think I make mine taste too healthy. I'll never hurt you, love. Never. Let's go inside."
Mr. Granger began to stand up, trailing his hand down her curls one last time, making sure to not let his fingers catch any strands. Hermione sniffed, trying to get herself under control. She logically knew that her dad would never hurt her, but she couldn't help her emotional response. As it was, Hermione tucked her legs under her, and with a tightening grip on the owl, she began to stand. After not eating for weeks, her body was incredibly shaky. After not moving for her hours, her body just simply didn't want to corporate with her wants. She tried not to flinch away or suffocate the owl when she felt her dad's hand on the curve of her elbow as she turned back to face the house. She could see her mum crying at the window. She attempted to swallow, but her mouth was so dry, she was physically incapable of the action.
"Let's go get you that smoothie, love." Mr. Granger softly stated as his hand silently encouraged Hermione to walk towards the house.
It took a good ten minutes for Mr. Granger and Hermione to reach their back door, but once there, she hesitated and looked down at the owl. He seemed content to stay with her, but she couldn't help but to wonder if his owner was missing him.
"Let's get him some berries, hmm?" Mr. Granger coaxed after seeing Hermione's gaze on the owl. She simply nodded and then stepped into their house.
Mrs. Granger's self-control was put to the test when Hermione walked into the house. Weeks had gone by since the last time she had gotten to see her daughter do anything other than sit in their yard in silence. She didn't want to startle Hermione, though, so she simply looked lovingly at her daughter and husband.
"Hermione here has decided she wants one of your famous smoothies, Mon." Mr. Granger said joyfully. He internally cringed at the tone of his voice. He was going for cheerful but subdued. Instead, he came off as a poorly rehearsed movie actor or a game show host. He looked at his wife and implored her for help with his eyes.
"Alrighty then," Mrs. Granger slowly said, "What kind of smoothie love? Do you want a berry one? Strawberry banana?" Mrs. Granger moved to the freezer and started rifling through the small bags of frozen fruit.
"Whatever you want to make, mum." Hermione said, barely loud enough for everyone to hear. She was already getting weak from the walk in, carrying the owl, and standing in the kitchen. "I'm going to go sit down." She looked down at the owl and gave it a look, all but saying out loud that she was going to let him go.
She made her way to their couch and plopped down onto. As soon as she was sitting, she unfurled her arms from around the bird and let her body sink into the couch. The owl hooted at her from her lap and then flew up to perch on the back of the couch by her head, almost as if he could protect her brain from bad thoughts.
When Mrs. Granger brought in Hermione's smoothie, well, she had technically changed the smoothie into a milkshake because ice cream was more fattening, she couldn't help the sad smile that graced her face. Hermione looked so peaceful, with her head tipped back against the couch and her legs criss-crossed in front of her. The black owl gave a sense of eerie peacefulness to the whole scene. Mrs. Granger just hoped that the bird would separate from Hermione so that he could take the letter to Harry.
"Here you are, love. I made your favorite. I added something special to it this time though." Mrs. Granger was shocked to see her daughters face morph into a scathing look. "Don….Don't give me that look. I made it with ice cream."
Hermione slowly took the smoothie… well, she supposed it was a milkshake now… from her mum. She took a sip and was pleased to learn that it truly was her favorite smoothie, strawberry and blueberry. She grimaced down at the cup, though. Her mum had made her a huge milkshake. There was no way she could drink all of it. Mrs. Granger must have seen the daunting look that flashed over Hermione's face, for it wasn't long before she spoke.
"You don't have to drink it all, love. Just some of it." Hermione seemed to register her words, but still stared at the cup with a bit of horror. "Maybe just a quarter of it? And then we can put it in the freezer for later. How about that?"
Hermione nodded and took another sip from the glass. Mrs. Granger tried to hold back the tears forming in her eyes when she saw Hermione swallow and grimace as her stomach seemed to revolt. Hermione hid it will, but it was clear that the owl was magical when he started whoing softly and hopped down to stand next to Hermione. Any time Hermione would take a sip, the owl would nuzzle against her arm in encouragement and comfort.
After a few minutes, Mrs. Granger had left the sitting room to eat dinner with Wendell. She had to let Hermione eat and drink on her own terms, she couldn't just shadow her daughter. That would just make everything worse she felt.
After eating, Mr. and Mrs. Granger slipped back into the sitting room. They saw Hermione curled up against the armrest of the couch and sound asleep. The owl remained there, perched by Hermione's head and looking down at her. The Grangers swore that the owl had a look of sorrow on its face.
Mr. Granger stepped forward and slowly placed an afghan over Hermione's small frame. How she was not freezing for lack of fat on her body was beyond him. Perhaps her body was simply too malnourished to stay awake despite the cold. He was pulled from his thoughts as the owl flapped his great wings and moved to the back of a chair.
"Wendell… look. He's holding out his leg. He… we can…" Mrs. Granger was growing panicky with hope. Her body couldn't believe that they would actually be able to get help for their girl.
"Mon… calm down. I know. I see. Go get the letter."
Mrs. Granger scurried off and returned in less than a minute, huffing slightly from the mad dash she had made up the stairs to grab the letter from their nightstand. Mr. Granger took the letter and string and reached towards the owl to attach it to his offered leg.
"Do you know Harry Potter?" The owl who-ed in response. "Take this letter to him. Get our daughter help." When the owl bobbed his head in response, Mr. Granger went to their back door and opened it. The owl quickly took off through it and into the night.
"Wendell…"
"I know, Mon. Help is coming."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger stood in their back door and watched the owl disappear into the night. They stood there, arms around each other, long after the bird had disappeared from view.
Feroce flew into his master's new bedroom and started making a ruckus. His master had explained that the witch he was looking for would not be healthy, but his master had not said that the girl would be all but dying. If she continued on her path, the girl would be dead. Feroce did not care that his master was sound asleep. It was of upmost important for his master to read the letter attached to him. Part of him felt shame for shirking his duties and not taking the letter to the person he was told to. But he didn't know if that person would help. He knew his master would.
His master grumbled into his pillow, and Feroce knew that he would have to work harder to get his master up.
Feroce started who-ing loudly and landed roughly on his master's back. When his master grumbled some more and went to push Feroce away, Feroce bit his hand and then pulled the covers away. His master was waking up, whether or not he wanted to.
When his master still wasn't grasping the situation, Feroce had no choice but to attack his master's head.
"Oi! Feroce! What the bloody hell!?" His master's face then dawned in understanding. "Feroce… Feroce!" His master looked down at Feroce's feet and saw the letter attached. Then, he saw that the letter was addressed to none other than Harry Potter. "Oh… You brilliant bird, you."
In mere seconds, Feroce was devoid of his letter and his master was running out of his suite and down the hall.
"Draco! Narcissa!" Feroce heard his master banging on a door. "Feroce brought a letter!" After a small pause Feroce heard, "Wake up, you git. We can help her!"
Feroce flew off back through the window. His job of delivering the letter was done for now. He would wait until midday to see if he was to return a letter to the girl's parents, but he would return to her and watch over her. He seemed to have brought some form of comfort to her.