Notes: Warning: erotic content (aka female sex) and a side character death!
Hermione felt dirty as she scratched her broken nails along her wrist, trying to will the itchy feeling away. Her throat was dry and tasted like rust and saltwater mixed together. Her arms were numb thanks to the rope tied around her elbows pressed tightly to her waist, forcing her to lie flat on the damp, muddy soil, completely exposed to the cold draught. There was hardly anything around here except a few torn pieces of cloth which barely covered the most private parts of her body.
There was not an inch of her skin that had not been touched, tortured, or soiled. She was not expecting that the Death Eaters were going to worship her, and sometimes their Crucio was even a welcome distraction, for when she was blinded by white-soaring pain, she could not hear the pleadings of other women she could not save. She couldn't feel the agony of others who fought valiantly for their lives. She couldn't listen to their pained cries echoing in her ears. And so, she became the very thing she despised; someone who killed without mercy. But then it became more important than ever, she couldn't allow herself to be compromised by any emotion or thoughts whatsoever. She refused to let her weakness affect her. She could feel every muscle trembling uncontrollably, as though they might burst apart. But she did not care.
Hermione stopped questioning topics of morality a long time ago. After all, she knew perfectly well what was awaiting her when she was applying to the Auror's Department. There would be blood, death, torture and a great feeling of following her own rules in the end. So, she did. She walked her own path. She fought against the darkness. She fought for justice. She won battles.
But this battle was different. This battle was against her very self. Because she wasn't sure anymore who was this person, trying in vain to reach her numb fingers and scratch at her scarred wrist. Yesterday she witnessed death again. A woman, barely older than her, had sacrificed her life for Hermione, just so she may survive. For nothing. Hermione didn't believe in miracles. She believed in logic, science and reason. She was certain, she would look in their lifeless eyes one day and she would smile triumphantly. And there was no point in wasting her breath on useless prayers and curses. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to scream.
That woman... A young Romanian witch named Teresa. Her only fault was that she had been a Mudblood too reckless to let herself be caught. She lived high up the Carpathian Mountains, made goat cheese and sold herbal concoctions to the villagers. She wanted to get married, she once confessed to Hermione, and her fiance was still looking for her everywhere. They were often forced together, Hermione and Teresa, to please each other when tender ears of the Death Eaters grew too tired of the endless piercing screams of their victims, whithering on the blood-stained floor.
She remembered that night too vividly. Of course, being an Auror and having been trained on Occlumency by Severus himself, Hermione could resist Imperio and her shields were strong enough to keep the pain-threshold bearable for her mental health to stay relatively intact, but that night was different. They had dragged Teresa to Hermione's corner of the shack and threw her on the floor, and she lay there, barely able to breathe without coughing her blood with each exhale. They unshackled Hermione and forced her to kneel next to Teresa. They made a vague attempt at casting Imperio on her once again.
"We could use a bit of entertainment, you filthy bitches, tired of screaming, are you? Go, have fun with yourselves as long as we let you," Dolokhov screeched through his broken teeth, courtesy of Hermione's last attempt of rebellion. She was his favourite toy, no matter how hard she fought back, he seemed to never let her go.
Hermione crawled to Teresa and looking deep into her green eyes, touched her cheek with her fingertips. "I will save you, Teresa. I promise..." Hermione whispered to her in Romanian, her hands shaking violently. Teresa nodded her head slowly, the pain evident on her features, as she tried to sit up and leaned into Hermione's touch. The first kiss on the bloodied lips of the broken woman was both unexpected and welcome. Their muscles screamed with pain from too many Crutiatuses yet their lips searched each other. For gentleness, understanding and comfort. Hermione felt Teresa's shivering form cling to her desperately, as she lowered her mouth to the injured nipple of the woman who would never be able to become a mother and feel her baby suck milk from her soiled breasts. Hermione closed her lips around the wounded areola and sucked tenderly, feeling Teresa grasp and lower her head.
Soon Teresa was moaning under her and gripping the hem of her torn-down dress, as Hermione sucked and licked carefully on the abused area over and over again, discreetly applying some minor healing spells. Hermione kept her gentle movements until Teresa stopped moaning and instead she moved her hands to hold Hermione's face tightly and caress her hair carefully, pushing Hermione against her, kissing softly down and up her neck and jawline.
"Make me...feel loved..." she rasped and moved her lips to Hermione's collarbone.
So, Hermione kissed and licked and stroked, loving all of Teresa. As Teresa's body trembled against hers and moaned out each and every sound that escaped her mouth, Hermione felt the pain, rage and despair fade slowly as she held her close and whispered in between kisses: "Please, just hold on for a bit more." And she did, the Romanian village witch who would never be able to know her husband, spread her thighs for Hermione's exploration because she was too broken by their captors and too tired to resist that little pleasure that oh so generously been offered to them by the Death Eaters howling encouragingly at the back of the scene.
Hermione moved her fingers tenderly over the long legs of the witch, seeking her touch desperately, and lowered her head to her toes once delicate and now dirty, broken and bleeding as the rest of her. She took the big toe into her mouth and swirled her tongue over it. She nibbled at it gently with her teeth, earning a soft whimper from the woman. "Don't be afraid," Hermione mumbled softly, her lips trailing hot and wet kisses down the length of the foot and then up her leg. She moved her lips towards Teresa's knee, where she licked over the cut and bloodied skin, applying a bit of her magic there as well. Teresa's body was trembling with excitement as Hermione reached up and knelt between her exposed thighs, ready to turn the unbearable pain into pleasure once more. The witch's core had been throbbing eagerly, ready to receive, as her hazy gaze pleaded with Hermione. Hermione smiled slightly, moving her body forward, hovering over the exposed flesh of the beautiful woman. Her lips brushed against Teresa's thigh, leaving a small trail of hot wetness, before she pressed a long kiss onto it, biting it lightly.
Teresa cried out loudly as her hips thrust upwards in desperation. "Oh, God...!"
Hermione felt a tingling sensation running from the tip of her nose all the way to her toes as she pushed her tongue closer and closer, licking gently at the smooth skin, enjoying the softness of it. Her hands slid upward, brushing over Teresa's sides and down her belly, slightly shivering under her touch. Teresa hooked her long legs over Hermione's shoulders, as she pushed her thighs for more, begging wordlessly. Hermione's fingers slipped over the woman's abdomen and pushed between her thighs, spreading her warm, soaked folds open. The witch moaned loudly once again, grabbing at Hermione's head. She moved her hand between the girl's legs and began stroking her clit with measured and tender movements as her fingers slipped inside the hot wetness and curled up there. Moving in and out, prolonging the sensation and bringing Teresa to the brim. Hermione's eyes were half closed with lust, while her mouth moved greedily from the swollen lips to the throbbing core, her tongue darting hungrily over each inch of delicate skin as if it were the sweetest delicacy she had found for the last dark months of pain and desperation. Slowly her tongue made the last lascivious stroke and the world behind Teresa's closed eyelids exploded, drowning her in the whirlwind of pleasure.
Afterwards, Hermione sat beside the almost unconscious woman, stroking her cheek lovingly as her chest heaved with heavy, satisfying breaths. The sight of her was almost painful, so much love was pouring out of those large green eyes staring up at her through thick lashes. She looked calm and grateful. As if Hermione might have just given her the promise of euthanasia and Teresa welcomed it with open arms. Hermione closed her eyes as she felt Teresa's first careful touch on her belly and down the valley of brown curls.
"Beauty...You are my beauty," Teresa whispered sealing her words with the kiss.
Now, at hearing those words over and over in her mind, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut trying to keep the pain at bay, as she remembered how life seeped out of Teresa's emerald gaze. They managed to break her in the end. Too much pain, too much despair and too much torture did their cruel job in ending her life so early. Hermione remembered how she crawled to Teresa and cradled her already too weak body to her chest, in a vain attempt to ease her pain. The witch recognized who was caressing her face so tenderly and reached her arm over her neck, trying to put the amulet of some Saint off her neck and pressed it into Hermione's numb fingers.
"May keep you safe and guide you through this hell, Beauty," she whispered and closed her eyes. With that last touch of her hand on Hermione's fingers, she seeped all her remaining magic into Hermione's magical core. She left this world with a smile and a look of calmness on her face. Hermione didn't cry or scream. She simply held her, sobbing silently into her once beautiful hair, trying to remember Teresa's warmth as her last touch was on her skin.
was the protector of all suffering from mental or physical pain, and Hermione wanted to laugh madly at the irony of that revelation. Yet, she clutched the amulet in her fist as she put it over her neck.
"Travel safe, my sister, may the Veil be kinder to you than the real world had ever been."
Hermione remained kneeling beside Teresa's body until dawn, crying quietly over the loss of the last person in the world who still cared about her after all these months, and whose death she would not allow herself to forget even one day when she finally would be able to win. Even when the sun rose over the horizon, Hermione continued to stay on her spot. All the good in her died that night leaving only the black hollow in the place where her heart once had been. She was ready to take vengeance. Ready to hunt down every Death Eater that had tortured and killed innocent souls. Ready to murder any enemy who got in her path. Ready to destroy anyone who hurt another living creature.
But she wasn't alone anymore.
She didn't need her wand for the act of revenge she was going to bestow upon each and every one of them. Hermione knew exactly what she needed, but she realised it couldn't come without risk. Magic burned inside of her almost blinding her in its fury. She was ready to fight. She clenched her fists, feeling the fire burn her ropes, feeling the ash fall to the dirty soil, she took a long breath and stood up, facing the world around her with a new determination shining in her amber eyes.