A/N: Hi all! A thank you to Parrisblues, Tamcor, BratGirl1983, and a Guest for commenting on the last chapter. I really do appreciate it!
This chapter touches on a couple difficult topics like Depression, Torture, Chronic Illness, Infertility, and something that can be considered dubcon (It's at the end but I will be marking the beginning and end with *** so if you chose to skip it, you'll know when). Next chapter will be a tad lighter, but this fic will have dark moments.
Updates will be on Fridays (if not sooner) and if the schedule needs to change, I will let ya'll know!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
As always, enjoy!
Chapter 2
Hermione forced herself out of bed at three in the morning. Her body ached, and her head was pounding.
Another night, another nightmare.
They had somewhat eased over the years and, for the most part, didn't wake up screaming anymore. Sometimes the nightmares were about Ron leaving them in the Forest of Dean, and sometimes it was Harry dead in Hagrid's arms, but, mostly, it was Bellatrix standing over her, screaming at her, cursing her.
Bellatrix was the worst of the bunch. She could remember everything in those dreams, the smell of sweat, the taste of her blood and bile, the feel of Greyback's hands on her.
It had been seven years since the torture since she had been captured and brutalized.
Her body still ached from what had happened, the phantom pains still lingered, and if she turned her body in a weird way, her body would protest and send her into painful muscle spasms that would last for hours, and sometimes days.
She knew it would be fruitless to fall back asleep now, the phantom pains from the Curcio starting at the center of her chest. Hermione shuffled to her bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out a vile colored potion and downing it in one go. She sunk down to the bathroom floor and leaned against the bathtub.
It felt like swallowing glass, but it was the only thing that had helped.
After all, all potions had some side effects, and this specific potion had many; numbness, temporary paralysis, and a particular rosey smell that followed the drinker around.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the potion began to take effect, making Hermione's vision fuzzy. She just sat back and enjoyed the numbness that consumed her. She let her body fall to her side; the cold floor only slightly grounding her.
The potion helped, but it made her feel less human.
She counted the cracks in the wall until she got feeling back into her legs.
The sun had begun to rise when she could properly wiggle her toes. The numbness had unfortunately turned into a dull ache, but the fogginess was fading, which made her notice the tears moistening her face.
Hermione hauled herself off the floor, using the sink as leverage.
The sight of her in the mirror was horrific. Her skin was dull, and her hair had lost its curls. There was a hollowness in her eyes that she wished she could attribute to the potion, but it had been there since the war.
She traced the jagged scar stretching from her forehead to chin.
Mudblood branded into her skin wasn't the only thing Bellatrix had gifted her during her stay at the manor. Hermione summoned her wand and cast a glamor, sending a silent thank you to Merlin that the scar wasn't a cursed one.
At least it could be hidden.
Hermione dressed and floo-ed to the Ministry, finding Harry waiting for her by the lifts.
"Good morning," Harry said, handing her a paper cup. Peppermint tea, her favorite.
Harry's brows furrowed with worry when he took in a deep breathe, taking in the odd, sickly sweet scent of the potion wafting in the air.
Hermione took a long sip from the cup, ignoring the burn, "Good morning, Harry." she muttered.
This was their daily ritual, Hermione would show up to work, and Harry would make sure she wasn't dead yet. It was a fair comprise.
"Are you coming out with us tonight?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
Hermione nodded, "Yeah, I need the night out too."
The pair stepped into the lift, and Harry gave Hermione a concerned look. He didn't say anything, another unspoken rule; don't ask Hermione how she is, because she'll always lie to you to make you feel better.
"It should be fun," Harry said, "Ginny says it's a great club, The Tall Leprechaun. Good drinks."
Hermione hummed.
The lift stopped, and Astoria Greengrass walked in. How could someone be that happy? Hermione asked herself as the happy brunette woman greeted people in the elevator.
What was up with Slytherin's cornering her in Ministry lifts?
"Hi there, Miss. Granger," Astoria said, a broad smile on her face, "I love your perfume, what kind is it?"
Hermione sighed, her fingers going up to her temple, massaging it softly, "its not a perfume," Hermione said, knowing the young and up-in-coming Potion's Mistress would understand.
"Oh…" Astoria whispered, and when Hermione looked at the other witch's hands, they were shaking.
Hermione felt Harry's hand grasp hers; she looked up to the black-haired wizard to see him staring straight on, burrowing hole's into the walls of the lift. Hermione squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort her friend.
The rest of the ride up was done so in silence; the witch next to Hermione was fighting back the tears, her lip quivering.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
The lift doors finally opened to Astoria's floor, and she ran out, her seafoam green robes elegantly swishing behind her.
When the doors closed, Hermione knew what was coming.
"Hermione—" Harry began, but she cut him off.
"Not now, Harry," the doors opened on Harry's floor, and she let for of his hand, "go to work."
Harry begrudgingly walked out of the lift, leaving Hermione alone.
She always ended up alone one way or another. She made her way to her office to find a beautiful red velvet box on her desk. Hermione bit her lip and reached for the note tied onto the top.
"My love for you is as the sea, vast and endless. It would bring me great joy to see you wear this."
Hermione's lips turned up, her heart fluttering in her chest. She opened the box to find a beautiful necklace nestled into the soft inner lining of the box. Her breathing hitched.
Hermione picked up the treasure by its delicate chain. A thumbnail-sized ruby shaped like a teardrop hung on the obviously goblin made silver. Hermione pulled out her wand and ran diagnostic spells over the necklace to find it safe. She fastened it around her neck, a broad smile finding its way onto her face.
The rest of the day went smoothly. Hermione got more work done in that one day than she had in the week beforehand.
She wrapped up her day and waited for Harry, who she showed the note too. There was something in his eyes when she smiled, relief being the most evident.
Harry and Hermione floo-ed to Grimmauld Place to get ready for the night at the club.
Hermione was only thankful that it was Friday, because judging by what Ginny had picked out for her, it was going to be a rough morning.
Hermione was right.
Once they got to the club, Ginny had pulled Hermione straight to the bar, and the two took shot after shot of God knows what before Ginny insisted on dancing. Harry and Ron grumbled under their breathe when Ginny pulled them to the dance floor, but it only took a shot of Fire Whiskey each before the boys let loose, dancing to the beat of the music.
Hermione danced with Ginny, letting the pulsing music guide her. When the music slowed, she turned to Harry, only to see the five Slytherins that wouldn't leave her alone huddled together, looking at her.
Hermione groaned.
Hermione excused herself from the dance floor when the buzz from the shots began to fade. She walked over to the bar and ordered the strongest drink on the menu. The barkeep slid it over to her, and Hermione took a greedy sip.
The alcohol made her numb. It made her feel good. The combination of her pain potion and the alcohol muddled her brain, making the room spin and turn on an axis.
"What are you doing, out and about?" a familiar voice said from behind her.
Hermione sucked on her teeth, turning to face Cormac McLagan's smug face.
"I'm getting a drink," Hermione said, taking another sip of her drink.
Cormac leaned on the bar, his most charming smile on display, "Let me get you another one."
"If I were a smarter woman, I would say you're trying to get me drunk," Hermione said, downing the rest of her glass.
He signaled to the barkeep to bring over two more drinks, and Hermione rolled her eyes. The two of them stood and talked about pointless things like the weather. On Hermione's third drink and Cormac's second, the dirty blond wizard slipped his hand onto Hermione's thigh, stroking the exposed skin.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Cormac whispered into her ear.
Hermione glanced at her friends, who were still out on the dance floor, then to the Slytherins. Parkinson locked eyes with Hermione, the intensity in them almost stung. She hesitated for a moment, considering the fact that she may have had too much to drink, but ultimately nodded, "Let's get out of here."
***Cormac gave her a sly smile, pulling her towards the door. Hermione followed as best she could on wobbly legs. They apparated almost immediately after they passed the threshold, Cormac quickly starting to undress Hermione, nearly tearing the clothing as he did so. He pushed Hermione to the bed, and Hermione complied. She laid her head on the satin pillow and stared up to the ceiling, the mirror above her, reflecting down at her.
Cormac had stripped her of everything but the ruby necklace that sat nestled between her breasts.
She felt the bed dip, and then Cormac was on her. Everywhere he touched, it hurt — a deep ache in her skin that would shake her to her core.
They didn't bother casting a conception spell, Bellatrix had made sure that she would never need them.
But all she did was go through the motions, mostly watching herself in the mirror, drowning out Cormac's grunts and groans. She would arch her back, voicing she wanted more, but Cormac wither ignored her thought that what he was doing was enough.
Once he finished, he rolled off her, turning his back, and promptly falling asleep, but Hermione kept her eyes on the ceiling, the ruby glinting at her. ***
Once Cormac's snores became unbearable, and the disappointment of not finishing, she got off the bed and pulled her dress on haphazardly. With a final glance at Cormac, Hermione rolled her eyes and apparated to her flat, collapsing on her mute green couch, exhausted.