Title: Hiding the Truth
Author: Vanilla Free
Rating: PG-13 ATM, subject to change.
Pairing: SS/HG. There is some GW/HP and RW/LL involved.


A/N: It's going to go somewhat slow, I promise you. My brain doesn't work quickly enough to get to the point. As stated, this may possibly become an HG/SS ship fic sometime soon. I'm not 100% the direction I'll take that. As always, any and all feedback is welcome, even if you'd like to tell me how much I suck.
I'm making an attempt to keep the beloved brainchildren of JK Rowling in character. I'm only hoping I can manage that well enough.

Summary: During her summer Holiday, Hermione falls for a trap. It doesn't seem to take any physical toll on her at first, but no one can see the mental anguish she's going through. In fact, she goes to great lengths to prevent anyone from seeing.
But things just keep getting worse and worse…

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They are the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and I am in no way attempting to infringe on her copyrights. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: Please be forewarned. This chapter contains references to physical and sexual abuse. If it's going to bother you, don't read it. Just get the gist and move on?

Hiding the Truth

Sweat and tears rolled down her face in beads. Could she even tell the difference? Of course not. It had been so long since her tears has tasted sweet. Her eyes were clamped shut, her jaw was grinding down. But she had detached herself long ago. She couldn't feel anything. Everything meant to be painful was a dull poke to her disconnected mind. In fact, the only thing that mattered was page 135 of her Arithmancy book.

Her trip to see Viktor Krum had not gone well. No, that was an understatement. It had gone terrible. Hermione Granger, Hogwarts resident know-it-all, had fallen in to a trap.

When he finished with her, Viktor dropped her body on the floor. There was no chance of escape. There hadn't been since the moment she'd arrived. Looking back, she realized that her parents had been right when they expressed their anxiety. They hadn't wanted Hermione to travel all the way out of their reach and careful eye. But in a few days, she would return home. She could put it all behind her; she could focus on her work.

As it was, she knew she had fallen dangerously behind. It would take an immense effort to get her back in to gear. It would take a miracle.

A miracle. Oh, how she prayed for one. Every time she saw the bleary smashed-up face come in to her room, she closed her eyes and prayed that something, someone, would stop this from happening.

How was she to know he'd turn out this way?

All of the signs HAD pointed to caution. His closeness with Karkaroff and his association with Durmstrang had only been a few. But she has been completely blinded. For the first time, someone had shown interest in her. This interest went further than help with a homework assignment.

Krum seemed so sweet, even if he had never managed to get her name right. Herm-own-ninny. It was as if each time he said it, knives would be jammed in to her stomach. Just thinking about it made her stomach lurch.

Shaking, Hermione stood and leaned against the cold walls. Her skin was burning with shame. She could smell blood but had no idea where it came from. So many new cuts and bruises had formed over the past week. It was only a matter of time before her entire body fell apart in a mass of dirt, skin and bones.

Krum had graciously given her a mirror. Rather, it was attached to the dark stone walls. Running her cheek along the walls to absorb the coolness, Hermione took a moment to look in the mirror.

She didn't recognize herself. Her eyes were bloodshot and raw. The skin that had been so creamy and soft was now marred with bluish purple bruises. The worst was her hair. It stuck down to her head like a helmet, the curls frizzy and greasy. Her arms were just as bad as her face. They were covered in the same coloured bruises and cuts, but in more identifiable patterns.

How was she supposed to cover it all up and move on? Surely no one would be able to look at her without gasping in horror. Her mother never thought to teach her how to use make up – Hermione had no use for it. Her appearance had always been the least of her worries. That had changed.

It turned out that she didn't need to worry. An hour after he had dropped her on the ground, Krum strode in to the room with a dangerously smug expression plastered on his face.

Hermione looked up from the cot and shrank back as he approached her.

"Up!" he hissed, narrowing his eyes. She didn't move quickly enough, so he grabbed her by the arm. He yanked her up and set her steady for a moment. "Ven I tell you to get up, you vill GET UP!" he shook her wildly now, pressing deeper on to her bruised arm.

"Okay! I'm sorry!" she sobbed, biting down on her lips. She lifted her chin in silent defiance, inwardly glad that she had managed to anger him. It was a start.

Krum scowled at her. "You vill be returning soon," he said. "But before you go, ve'll be taking a few… precautions."

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. She clamped them shut quickly, suppressing a deep shudder. She couldn't hold it, though. Her body trembled bit by bit, stopping down to her toes. She began to disconnect herself and recite page 136 of her Arithmancy text when Krum shook her again.

"Open your eyes, Herm-own-ninny," he was seething. His eyes bulged dangerously.

Hermione shuddered as the name hit the pit of her stomach and splintered out. She opened her eyes and gasped in horror. Krum had his wand in front of her face at an eerie angle.

"Viktor… Vitkor please!" she begged. The bravery and defiance she had once felt run through her blood was slowly disintegrating. Her brown eyes watered while her chin wobbled.

"Shut UP!" a strong, gnarled hand knocked her back. Clutching her face, Hermione whimpered.

"Viktor, you don't have to do this!" she braced herself for another blow, but none came.

What would Harry and Ron say if they saw this? What would they think if they saw their friend poised with her arms over her head, cowering in fear of the man she had written such epic letters to?

Oh, Harry. Ron. They were the sparkle in her dim horizon. She could never tell them about this. They wouldn't understand. No one would understand how this had gone down.

It didn't occur to her that Krum was about to do something until he had waved his wand tersely. Hermione froze – she hadn't been able to make out the words that he'd mumbled.

A tingle formed in her face, followed by a spreading heat that covered her entire body. She swore she saw colours. They were beautiful colours, like the Aurora Borealis, swishing and swirling in front of her eyes. The bad part was the limpness she felt suffuse through her body.

Moments later, Hermione Granger collapsed on to the damp floor, her body limp as a rag doll.