A/N - this chapter contains scenes of a violent and distressing nature. Read at your own peril.

Chapter 12

She managed to get through her Wednesday without incident, and was paired once again with Draco. Looking around the room, it was fairly obvious what their professor had done in the last session. Each long mahogany workspace sat two students who were very similar in ability. He'd put people with a similar understanding together, and kept apart the brighter students that would normally help their more inept classmates.

Even with that in mind, he had managed to mix houses where possible. Hermione had to admit, the man was indeed very perceptive.

They had begun that lesson by observing the maturation of their potions, taking account of any changes that they could notice to colour and consistency, a difficult task when the potions had to be kept in a cool and dark location. They could, of course, smell the potion, however much of the class determined that it would be unwise to do so.

Hermione and Draco, however, pulled out their textbooks.

"It's been 48 hours," Draco observed. "And the potion takes a full month to mature."

Hermione frowned. "That's true, but not to say that the will not fuse until the end. As I understand it, it's merely the potency and clarity that takes the full cycle to achieve - for it to be clear and odourless. I'm sure that once taken off the heat, and no longer fuming, it should be fine to smell."

Draco grinned, and handed her a vial of the substance. "Go ahead if you're so sure, Granger."

Hermione lifted her chin and pulled the stopper from the top and sniffed. "The lunar musk has strengthened," she said slowly, and Draco jotted the observation down. "Interestingly, while the mixture still had a tint of red, I cannot smell the Ptolemy at all. Presumably, this is because of the Adder's fork - when a snake smells, it picks up tiny particles on its tongue. As a potion component rather than a live snake, there is no vomeronasal system to deposit it into, I imagine the particles are simply held by the tongue. When the sophorous bean comes into full effect, it will likely consume the Adder's fork, removing the smell entirely."

Draco nodded as he quickly scribbled down the notes, while Hermione replaced the stopper. "Who is the sexiest Slytherin?"

Hermione snorted. "Goyle."

Draco sniggered. "How did you know you wouldn't be affected?"

She held up the vial for him to see. "Professor Snape has replaced the stoppers. If you'll look, this one has small air holes."

"5 points to Gryffindor," a cold voice murmured, and the pair turned to see Snape slinking away without a backwards glance.

"Holy shit, Granger," Draco exclaimed in a hushed voice.

"I know," Hermione mused. "I am fairly certain he has never awarded me house points before."

"I've never seen him give points to any Gryffindor before."

Hermione frowned, her elation quickly slipping away as she contemplated the dour man. Was he awarding points for her observational skill? Or was he bribing her to stay quiet?

Draco and Hermione returned their potions to the store cupboard and returned to their table, organising their notes and cross-referencing to their textbooks, with a mild air of distraction.

Of course, dinner came and went, and it was a distracted brunette that went to bed that night, reading through her journal entries absently mindedly, her mind focusing on the veritaserum, and modifications that could be made. Nothing new entered in her secret book, and Hermione was surprised when her usual dreams took a confusing turn.

She was in the potions classroom, alone with her Professor who exuded his expression of impenetrable calm. His eyes were piercing, and for reasons that she couldn't comprehend, she was afraid.

He wouldn't hurt her, would he? He was her teacher, her mentor. He was supposed to look after her… why was he looming over her like that. Hermione shrunk back into her chair letting out a small sound of terror.

The Dream Snape remained unchanged, placing a bottle of clear, odourless liquid in front of her. "Three drops," he ordered. "Now."

She was frozen to her seat, unable to move, and Snape raised one eyebrow. "We don't have all day."

Her hand shook as she reached for it, her body screaming out for her to stop, but she couldn't obey. The rational part of her mind told her to run, to hide from him. And yet, she didn't. She squeezed three drops onto her tongue and swallowed, handing both the vial and its pipet stopper to the man, and he screwed the cap on leisurely, eyes on her throughout.

"Can you feel the effects yet, Miss Granger?"

She felt compelled to lie, and yet she shook her head. "Not yet, sir."

He nodded. "Then we shall wait."

A couple of minutes later, the serum was in full force, and Hermione lifted her eyes to his, head bowed low. "I think it's working now, Professor."

"Good." He took a seat beside her.

"What is your name?"

"Hermione Jean Granger."

"How old are you?"

"Nearly 20."

"And how was that possible?"

"I used a time turner."

"Where are your parents?"

"Australia."

He nodded. "Good. Now, what happened with Potter?"

She gulped, fighting in vain to stop the urge to speak. She couldn't tell him, she couldn't ever tell him. She couldn't let anyone know.

"We had a fight."

"I had worked that one out myself," he replied mockingly. "Want to tell me why?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, that's fair. Now, tell me why."

"I-" she choked. "I can't tell you, I can't tell anyone."

"Did you take a vow, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head.

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"Because it hurts."

"Well then, you can tell me or I will hurt you myself."

Dream Snape's manner shifted, and Hermione's eyes welled with tears at the sight of her Potions Professor without his frock coat. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and a Carrowesque snarl overtook his mouth as he reached for his belt.

"No, please!" she cried. "Please, I can't! I can't! Not again…"

"Did Potter do this to you?" He asked. "Did he fuck you until you screamed? I bet you ran away afterwards, didn't you? Coward."

She sobbed in earnest, her hands covering her face. "Please, it hurt so much…"

A hand on her cheek lifted her head. "It won't hurt the second time," he told her. "Not unless I want it to."

She could see that he did want it to, very much.

"Help!" she screamed. "Please, someone help!"

"I think she needs help, Severus." Carrow appeared from the shadows, his hard cock in hand as he eagerly eyed the Gryffindor. "Can I have her? You've got Vector after all."

Snape snorted. "Not the same as fucking a mudblood, is it? I love how they can't take it, how they cry at the slightest penetration. They're so weak, so prudish. I mean, we'll have to cleanse her first, of course. Can't let her infect us with her filth…"

Hermione howled in agony as they simultaneously cast cleansing charms, leaving her dry and raw.

Carrow thrust himself inside, and the feeling provided was as if being skinned from the inside out.

Snape moved forward, ready to join his companion...

"Stop! Stop!" Hermione screamed, thrashing and crying as she fought to untangle herself from her bedsheets. She was thankful for the wards around her bed as her roommates slept, oblivious to the women running to the bathroom and promptly vomiting into the toilet. Sweat poured all over her, mixing with her tears and dripping from her chin. She cried softly until the tears started to slow, and went back to her bed to grab a change of clothes. She wouldn't make the same mistake as she had last time - wet clothes were never fun, and she'd smelled of damp for a couple of days afterwards.

She set the temperature to scalding hot, and by the time she felt clean and had dressed, the time was five thirty. She sighed, pulling her wet hair into a messy bun before heading down to the common room.

It was empty, as it always was at this time of the morning. She wanted to go to her chambers, and carry on her research, but her dreams had left her afraid.

There are people here who want to hurt you.

You shouldn't be out of Gryffindor tower.

It's not safe here.

The tears began to rise again, as she realised something truly upsetting; the one place, the one safe haven she had, was not the refuge that she had so emphatically thought it to be. In the castle, in her one remaining home, she would have to hide.

Later that day she would have to face her night time tormentor - alone.