Disclaimer: I obviously own none of the rights to the Harry Potter universe or the cover image, but the plot is mine

WARNING: This chapters contain triggers and non-consensual content! You have been warned!

*flashback*

"Such a soft bald little cunt." A finger presses through my small clothes, grazing my sex. I am stunned as he man-handles me onto my back upon his desk and riffles under my skirts. His hands must have multiplied, they are everywhere and the sensory overload clogs my brain.

I am too shocked to move. I am wearing one of my mothers' old dresses, tailored for the occasion and I can't help thinking he might rip my clumsy stitches. I had worked so hard to be presentable. For what? This?

This cannot be happening. My brain refuses to process what is happening.

I am here because I will be thrown from the house – my parents' house – if I fail to pay our rent. And how would I pay rent without this post?

His sucking face moves towards mine. His moistened lips and clammy hands make me feel sick. I withhold the urge to vomit on his embroidered doublet.

"No, please," then stronger, "NO!"

He growls, a man used to getting what he wants.

"Lord Nott, please stop!" I writhe underneath him trying to get free. My brain has begun to work in starts and stops.

He continues to unbuckle the front of his britches, hindered now, by my fighting back.

"Stay still you little bitch! This is my right!"

I am fighting harder now, the reality of what he means to do sinking in. He's trying to pin my hands and grappling with his manhood beneath my skirts.

"I always knew you were a little cock tease. Just let me break you in and we can discuss further work opportunities." This last bit said with a sneer, repeating my innocent words back to me.

My parents are dead, victims of a whirlwind sickness. It had started with the older villagers, then the younger children until nearly everyone had succumbed. The Lord and his family has shut their gates, only the closest servants remaining barricaded inside.

And now the quarantine is over, so many lives snuffed out so quickly. The vomiting, the endless wave of shit. I remember my parents as husks of the people they once were. Bloodshot eyes and cracked lips. I have no other family. As a child I have few if any work prospects.

So I had come to the gates and asked to see the master. Surely they had need of servants. Many of their staff had perished. My mother never spoke frequently of the small jobs she completed for the mistress and father spent so much of his time teaching that I realise now he never mentions what type of master Lord Nott has been.

Work prospects.

Such a harmless proposition. But that is how Lord Nott understands what a girl, a child, has to offer. My body.

"Just stay still one fucking minute and I will rid you of your pesky maidenhead!"

He's sweating now with the exertion of pressing me down with one hand, the other intent near my hips and his. He is much older and trim, though unfit and slightly stooped. The frustrated wobble of his chin is mesmerising.

Focus Hermione, you don't have to give into this. FIGHT HIM!

I reach blindly for purchase on the desk, motivated by my inner voice. Searching now for some way to defend myself.

And then, my hand grasps something. A letter opener.

I can feel the head of his manhood now and the slickness of his excitement against my inner thigh. His hips draw back and he moves to cover my mouth. I am surprised that no one has discovered us given the noise of our struggle so far, or perhaps the household knows to stay away.

I clench my eyes shut and aim wildly with as much force as I can muster.

"ARRRGHHH!" His roar is proof enough that my weapon finds purchase on his face. I can feel the give of his soft skin under my hand and the warm splash as his blood bursts onto my ruined dress.

"YOU'VE FUCKING CUT ME!"

My eyes pop open in surprise and see his body reeling away from me, his hands trying to stem the flow of gushing blood from his cheek. His left eye is completely obscured and the gaping wound on his face matches his soul. I can't help but feel vindicated when his pretty outfit begins to soak up the gore. Now both of our outfits are ruined.

I gather the torn parts of my dress hastily and flee out the door.

"YOU CAN'T RUN! I'LL FIND YOU AND DESTROY YOU! WHORE!"

I race past a startled maid and down the main flight of stairs. I have no time to find my way to the servants exit so I rush through the main doors, heaving against the solid wood.

Sweet escape.

*end flashback*

The rest of my escape is a blur. I left behind everything in my parent's home, there was nothing of financial value, I had already buried the two people that made our small cottage home.

Minerva is silent for a long time. Then setting aside the milk pail, she approaches me slowly, her footsteps soft against the packed earth and hay. She reaches for me slowly, giving me a chance to deny her, or move away.

I feel the gentle guidance of her hands as she leads me into her body. I choke down a sob and close the space between us, throwing myself into her body. She sways with the impact but stands firm.

She makes nonsensical noises and rubs my back softly, her shoulder absorbing the sound of my despair and letting some of this hurt release.

"There is no excuse for his behaviour and I cannot promise you will never encounter such brutality again."

I absorb these words quietly, still tucked into her side. My sniffles have quieted.

"But I will never let this injustice against you go unpunished. And if I ever encounter that man…" She trails off and I can feel the repressed rage in the rigidness of her spine.

I feel safe here in the center of the small world Minerva has created. The humid warmth of the small barn, the warm press of a bleating kid against my leg.

I will never be free of the weight of this man and what he tried to do to me. But I vow: it will never define me.

AN: Thanks for sticking with me - more coming soon hopefully!