Disclaimer: I own nothing, just a slave to my imagination!
Note: It's been a long time since I published and the good girl in me says I should finish up the many many things I have left open. Yes I will do this, I have 2 stores on the radar to finish (1 chapter left each) and I will continue with some already published stories. Though as many of you may know, sometimes you cannot fight the inspiration bug.
This story is going to be dark, difficult and depressing. I felt like it was time to take on something that would challenge me but in how I write and what I write. I hope you enjoy the first chapter. Please note that I have not had a beta reader go over this so apologies for any huge things. My beta has been busy busy busy and I'd rather not bother her too much. If anybody would like to weigh in on this, let me know I'm happy to have your input.
Chapter 1: Her Only Recourse
It had been two years since the fall of the Order and the rise of the Dark Lord. Muggle London was covered with a darkness and white haze that resembled the aftermath of a nuclear fallout. The streets were silent, the sky pitch black as Hermione Granger made her way to a burned out building on a corner of no particular interest to anybody. She pulled her rag of a shawl further over her head as she looked over her shoulder. No matter how long it had been she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being followed, that somebody would do her ill. In this new world there were many opportunists. Many who would easily kill in order to gain food, favor or any other thing that might make their miserable lives more comfortable. She shivered at the thought and continued on her way. This had not been what they had intended, what they had fought so hard for. Hermione could still see the swinging bodies of her most loved comrades hang in Trafalgar Square, as she watched from the sewers. Harry, Ron, Professor Dumbledore, all had been hanged on a cold and stormy day in November. All had swung in the rain for days until some vigilante had had the guts to cut them down. He was also executed for his troubles, but he would forever be a hero to Hermione.
The Dark Lord's rule was harsh and with that came rules and regulations, but also a lawlessness that was unfathomable. Hermione treaded lightly, knowing she was out after hours. The curfew imposed by the Death Eaters would see no one out after 11pm, now at 3 am she would be seriously punished for her crimes. Merlin forbid they find out her true identity. She had done well to live off the kindness of strangers and rely on her own wits. The streets were unkind and she had seen many things in the last two years, none of which had been the world she had previously inhabited. Sometimes she waited to be awoken from this nightmare, other times she wished death upon herself. In a world where the strong preyed upon the weak, where friends fought against friends and where Muggles and Wizarding Folk alike were hauled off to working camps without notice, Hermione knew she needed to flee if she wanted to live. It was this need to flee that brought her to this burned out factory in the heart of London. While London and the surrounding areas had been taken, there were parts of the UK that were still 'free zones', or so she heard. She knew that Professor McGonagall had retreated to her castle in Scotland to fight the Dark Lord. From the last news she had been given, she was still alive and well - fighting the Dark Lord with all the ferociousness of a highlander. Hermione hoped she could make it there. Hoped she could leave this nightmare far behind her. The road was treacherous but better than trying her luck in London, which was overrun with Voldemort's sick followers.
Hermione navigated the twists and turns of the building, remembering exactly what her contact had told her. Her wand at the ready she turned and pointed at any sound that was out of place or possibly human or wizard. You could not count on most people now, no matter their true origins. It would be silly to be so close to freedom and squander it on some rouge you happened to encounter on your way. Double checking she was in the right place, she hid herself in a dark corner with a blown out window, which would afford her an easy exit. It was documents she was after, a new identity to be more exact. There was not much her status as part of the Golden Trio would get her now, but this was the last favor she would ask. So she waited in the cold and dark of a burned out building for her contact to arrive. It was particularly cold this night, so she pulled her rags closer to her body, her bare feet tucked under her as best she could.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could detect some movement from the corridor she had just come through. Cautious she stayed in place, waiting for the person coming her way to show themselves as friend or foe. A young woman made her way, wand at the ready, closer to where Hermione lay in wait. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and her complexion, what she could see of it in the poor light anyway, would have said she was well fed and in want of nothing. Hermione sighed in relief. It was rather unlikely that this girl would come to steal the last of her possessions and kill her. She stepped out of the shadows carefully, sure to keep her wand at her side. The young woman paused a moment, holding her wand with a slight 'lumus' charm. There was a moment where they both looked at one another in silence, assessing whether it was okay to continue with their clandestine meeting. Finally the young woman came closer and pulled some folded documents from beneath her robes.
"Are you Hermione Granger?" she asked with slight apprehension. Hermione couldn't blame her, she knew years of hiding from the authorities had taken its toll on both her appearance and her emotions.
"Yes." Was all Hermione could muster. Not having the strength or the will to say more than that.
"Here is what you need then." The young woman handed her the documents. Hermione used the light of the woman's wand to read through them. They were identity papers. A photo of a girl in her age, somewhat similar looking, half blood wizard, schooling outside of London. Hermione took her time to look through them, she needed to be sure she could pass for this girl, that she could really be her if questions were asked.
The young woman broke the silence, "What do you think?" She asked. "They aren't foraged, that's already something." Hermione looked up at her with only half interest as she continued to examine the documents. The woman was right, they were certainly not foraged, they were very very real. Forged documents would get her killed, real documents gave her a high chance of passing through the city's borders. That could only mean one thing.
"Is she dead?" Her question was clear and concise.
"Yes." The young woman breathed.
"Who was she to you?" Hermione had no more energy to be diplomatic, she needed to know if she could actually use this.
The young woman stammered, "My sister. She was my sister." Hermione could see the hurt in her eyes. "We cremated her. Nobody knows." The woman paused, "We have family outside of London, that should be enough to get you through."
Hermione nodded and reached for the wad of rations she had in her pocket. She handed them to the woman for payment. These documents would do to get her past the guards.
The young woman smiled, "Oh thank you!" She was more than pleased to have the ration cards. Then she frowned slightly, "Perhaps you should cut your hair?"
Hermione hadn't considered this as she looked down at the picture in the documents she held in her hand. She was the same age as Hermione, had gone to a different school but yes her hair was straight. And now that she looked closer the nose was a bit different too. She simply nodded to the young woman, unable to smile. "Please go. I don't want you to get caught." Was all she could say for the lady's troubles.
She shook her head in agreement and placed her hand on Hermione's bony shoulder, "Good luck." Then she vanished into the darkness.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had become a loner in the last years and did not enjoy the company of others. Having ties meant it hurt more when people died, or it meant they met an untimely death because she had people looking for her. It suited her just fine to keep to herself. This, however, had been necessary. She turned to a cracked piece of mirror that happened to be lying the bowels of this building. It had been a long time since she had seen herself in a mirror and it was shocking what she saw. Hermione Granger was a shell of her former self. She'd lost easily 45 lbs leaving her malnourished and almost skin and bone. The lack of nutrition had taken it's toll on her skin and gums, scurvy had set in making her look sicker than she was. Though she couldn't be sure, nothing in her body had really functioned well in the last six months, her body was giving out slowly. This was her last attempt at survival.
The woman had been right though, her last bastion of who she was, her last recognizable feature, needed to go. Curly hair might give her away and she couldn't risk it, not now, not when she had come so far and waited so long. She grabbed the sliver of mirror in her right hand, causing blood to form on her fingers, and grabbed a bunch of her hair with her left. It was with great sorrow that she cut the remaining curly locks she had. Ripping them from her head with force, they were the last things she had that reminded her of herself. They had kept her grounded in who she was, even after all of these horrible events and now, now she needed to be somebody else. She needed to forget she was Hermione Granger and become Erica Simmons. She watched her hair fall gracefully to the ground of this burnt out and degrading old building as if it were a dream. She felt her head to make sure she had gotten rid of every last curl and every last bit of hair she possessed. The looked at the mirror again. Her nose was off...she used her wand and cast a very light glamor it change it. 'Yeah. That will do." Convinced of her success, Hermione Granger curled up in a corner to review the documents. She was so excited she couldn't sleep, too concerned she would mess up to rest. She needed to be perfect, and she only had a few hours to practice.
It was 8am sharp when Hermione arrived at the border crossing. It was obvious from the droves of people lined up in the cold, that many had broken curfew to get there early. She was somewhat surprised to see that there were almost as many wanting to come into the city as leave. Voldemort's reign had attracted all sorts of degenerates and bad individuals set on the exploitation of others. The city had progressively gotten worse instead of better, and that was why you needed to have your documents in order. Those with family outside of London were often granted leave and able to join with them outside of the city. With so many mouths to feed and so little food, it made sense to let those who could leave and wanted to leave go. Though there were many who were unable to leave due to their blood status, allegiances, name, or because the notoriously disgusting border guards didn't feel it necessary to allow them to leave. In those instances and often for reasons undisclosed, they were thrown into labor camps or rehabilitation camps. Hermione shuddered even thinking about them, they were hideous places - where witches and wizards would be made to battle for the amusements of the guards. Where they were made to murder others, where they worked until the died. Hermione had done her best to avoid these places and it was a wonder she had, with the squads of Death Eaters roaming the streets, looking for people like her. Many of her friends had not lasted long...she was the last of them now that she thought about it.
She pulled her dark hood over her bald head to both keep warm and to cover her face. She didn't want to stick out unnecessarily as she chose a line to stand in. Hermione had done much to train her breathing so as not to seem nervous, even though her insides were churning. A fight had broken out in another line across the way, something about papers being damaged by somebody and now there was blood. Neither one of them would exit the city after that, now they were being dragged off to the camps. She didn't dare stare too long at the commotion, not drawing attention to herself was key in this moment and she kept repeating it to herself like a mantra. She saw a few women look at her and take a step back, so bad must have been the smell rolling off her or the fear of infection that they turned their noses up and stayed a good distance from her. 'Good,' she thought, 'just stay away from me.'
The crossing was getting nearer and Hermione pulled her rags closer around her body subconsciously. Her documents were touching her body, she could feel them rubbing her skin, a reminder that she was there and she was alive. It was harder than expected to fight the rising joy and excitement in her chest, she could see her goal, she could see the space beyond London for the first time in years and she almost couldn't contain her shaking. 'Just a little longer.' She reminded herself.
Her hopes would soon be dashed, as a group of young and upcoming Death Eaters approached her. Hermione looked at the floor but they had already had her in their sights. She quivered when the leader of the pack gripped her by the shoulder and spun her to face him, though it was unclear if she was scared, nervous or just depleted of nutrients.
"Well well what do we have here?" the leader said eyeing Hermione in an attempt to determine how much she would squirm under his scrutiny.
"Some sad excuse for a boy." The dark haired one said.
"Nah, I think she's a girl." Said another that Hermione couldn't quite see. She was surrounded and they wouldn't leave until they got what they wanted from her.
They poked her around a bit and pushed until her hood fell from her head, revealing her baldness. She hoped it would be enough to deter them from taking their bullying further. Instead it incited them more.
"Well I'd say that's the ugliest thing I've ever seen." The dark haired one spat, pushing her around and getting a yelp from her for his troubles.
"I bet you'd fuck her anyways." Said the unseen Death Eater.
That was enough. Hermione turned and walked as briskly as she could away from the growing crowd of onlookers. Her freedom was short lived though, as hands pulled her back to where she had come from. These hands, there were more of them now, were grabbing at her….clawing at her. Her scarf came off, exposing her newly shaven head to the cold winter morning. She turned, in a vain attempt to grab it back. Her rags of clothing came soon after that, and she began to wonder to herself was would be better? 'Let them have their way just so I can pick myself up and leave?'
It was soon clear they had no intention of letting her go through the border after that, as the blond one grabbed her identification papers, scattering them to the wind. Hermione drew her wand, but it was knocked from her hand. Her naked body was pushed to the ground, she could feel the cold gravel digging into her thin, almost skeletal frame. She was fighting now, pushing back with what little strength she had. One of the Death Eaters moved his hand too close to her mouth and she bit him as hard as she could, drawing blood. That was when he punched her. Her eyes exploded with colors of red and orange at the impact.
"No, no!" She was screaming, loud enough for the entire crossing to hear her. Of course nobody came to her aid, her screams were met with more laughter and more jeering from the ever growing crowd. They were holding her down now, her face was bleeding and her body was aching. The blond one was opening his trousers now and Hermione shook with fear and anger. 'I'm going to die here.' She said to herself. 'I'm going to die here and nobody will be the wiser.'
It was then that a booming voice broke the commotion. She hadn't even heard what the voice had said, only that it had stopped everything dead in its tracks. Her attackers were all looking to her left, even the blond one was frozen, his trousers around his knees.
"I said, 'What is the meaning of this?' came the loud baritone voice of her ex-potions Professor, Severus Snape. She didn't quite know what to think, on the one hand he had stopped the absolute terror she was experiencing, on the other he was the ultimate betrayer and had aided in finding and killing her friends. Severus threw her a quick glance as he walked his way casually into the crowd of miscreants, clearly he was a home in such company. Hermione turned her head away on the chance that he might recognize her - she was still wanted by Voldemort.
The young Death Eaters were stunned into silence, one actually started shaking in fear of the man Hermione had known well years before. He was a General in Voldemort's army now, responsible for the Labor and Resocialization Camps that had cropped up in the countryside after the Dark Lord took power. He had more blood on his hands than Hermione cared to think about and more power than almost any other Death Eater, save Voldemort. He hadn't changed at all since she'd seen him last, his dark eyes roaming the audience his robes flowing behind him effortlessly. She began to shiver then, it was a December morning and horrendously cold.
Severus looked at the shotty lot of young Death Eaters around him, none of them were offering up anything. He arched his eyebrow in the characteristic way that he often did and continued to milk the silence as he removed his traveling cloak. He breathed in deep, "Nobody? Not one single soul can tell me what's going on here?"
"We were, we were just…" one of the young men started, but then thought better of it has Snape turned his full attention to the boy.
"Wormtail, pack the girl up in this and take her to my carriage. Stay outside of the carriage until I tell you otherwise." The tone in his voice was ominous, as if nothing could be said to stop what Severus Snape was about to set in motion. His ugly, fat servant of a man scuttled over to Hermione bringing her his Master's cloak. He dropped the cloak on top of her, so she could at least cover some of her nakedness before she got up. Unsteady and shaking from fear, adrenaline and anger, Hermione wrapped the thick woolen travel cloak around her body and struggled with the weight of it. Gaining her footing, she turned her face toward her old professor and their eyes met briefly. As usual his expression was impassive and impossible to read. She could not find the will to smile or say anything, she simply nodded in his direction and allowed herself to be escorted by Wormtail away from the mess. There was this fleeting moment that made her want to stop and turn back, to see what would happen to her attackers. But something stopped her, fearing she would turn into a pillar of salt or worse, she kept her gaze firmly fixed ahead. Not even the horrific screaming of the young men who had hurt her, nor the sound of blood and body parts scattering across the cement plaza would turn her head now.
Wormtail opened the door of a carriage that was parked a fair bit away from where Severus had found her. Steadying herself on the stair, she used what was left of the strength she had and pulled herself inside, almost too weak to make it. Once inside she took stock of her surroundings. The carriage was done in deep purple velvet, the seats were plush, the windows and the inside had a nice dark wood and there was a bowl of fruit on a small table. The carriage was opulent and comfortable, Hermione pulled the travel cloak around her tighter feeling out of place there. She had just escaped one horror to be brought to another, though mentally she was too tired to truly understand the repercussions of what had just happened, she was too busy eyeing the fruit on the table near her. Hermione hadn't eaten in several days. Her mouth was ablaze, she was salivating uncontrollably. Against her better judgement she grabbed an orange and began to devour it, peel and all. She held it in two hands as if to hold it with one would give it the opportunity to escape her. She bit and chewed and swallowed almost in one go, she was so desperate for food, for nourishment, for anything. She had finished two and was on her third orange when the carriage door opened and Severus Snape entered. Hermione stopped mid bite, her eyes wide and focused on him, juice dripping from her mouth not sure what to do.
Severus closed the door behind him and sat across from the girl, who had not taken her eyes of him since he had entered the carriage. He suppressed a smile at her nervousness and complete lack of shame to take his food, she was like a wild animal with survival at the top of her list. Severus crossed his legs and settled into his seat giving the driver the signal to go. They sat in silence for a while, she had continued eating, keeping her head down, and he made a concerted effort not to move or speak. To move too quickly would be to scare the girl more than she already was, to speak too soon would make her too uncomfortable to respond. So there he sat there, observing her, trying to figure out what had drawn him to her aid.
It was not a normal thing for Severus to intervene in what the 'foot soldiers' were doing, he had other issues to attend to and other things that were of much greater importance. Though as he walked through to do the border inspection this morning, unannounced, and had come upon the commotion it had been Her voice. It was clearly not her screaming, but the voice that was doing the screaming that made him drop everything and turn his attention to what was happening. 'This girl. How could this scrawny, sick naked girl sound so much like 'Her'? It was 'Her' voice I heard, 'Her' screams for help. 'Her' beautiful sounds.''
Severus studied the almost skeletal mass in front of him, trying to see what she would have in common with the one he sought. 'The eyes perhaps?'
Confident she wouldn't jump out the window or scratch up the walls, Severus pulled out her paperwork he had collected from the site and opened it, careful not to startle her. Her eyes immediately flashed toward the documents he pulled from his breast pocket. Not paying her any mind he removed some small reading glasses from his other breast pocket and began to read her identification documents. It could have been any girl there sitting in front of him, the difference between the smiling, fresh, well-fed girl in the picture and the dirty, flea infested bald one were so great. 'Erica Simmons.' Severus read to himself. This was not the one he was looking for, though she would not be so stupid as to be traveling with her actual documentation on her.
He eyed his stray once more, trying to make heads or tails of her true identity. 'They would be the same age though.' He mused on this point while reading down a bit further. She had attended a wizarding school outside of London, her parents were both half-blood, which would make her more than half in some ways.
"So tell me Miss Simmons, what was your favorite subject in school?" he asked as if they were sitting in a classroom interview.
Hermione looked up at him, knowing he was not one to make polite conversation. "Charms sir. Charms and Arithmancy. I wasn't always the best student in them but I enjoyed them all the same." Erica's grades had been nowhere near her own, so she chose the subjects she knew the most about not necessarily the ones Erica did the best in, should Snape attempt to press her deeper.
"What about Potions?" He asked very casually, waiting to see how the girl would react.
Hermione grinned to herself, knowing the girl's academic history well. "Well I had two left hands in Potions sir. I didn't have such a steady hand I suppose." Hermione again drew his travel cloak around her closely, as if it would shield her from any further questions.
Severus pondered her answers for a moment. They all fit, that wasn't the issue. There were two burning questions that stood out to him. 'Why would a girl in such a poor state have papers that were almost pristine? One would think she carried them around with her everywhere - but she clearly had not.' He pondered this a bit, though it wasn't as important as his next question. 'Will she be able to help me? Is she strong enough to do what I need her to do when the time is right?" He needed someone he could trust without question, someone loyal to him and only him.
His gaze was heavy and Hermione felt almost crushed by the weight. Her cheeks burned, wondering if she had answered something wrong or did something that would make him react to her negatively. She told herself to control her breathing, panicking would not do her any good here.
She flinched as he moved his hands inside his robes, his movements were crisp and effortless. After a bit of digging he produced her wand. "I believe this belongs to you." It wasn't until he pulled the wand from his robes and held it infront of him did he really see what it was made out of. 'Vine Wood, like hers." He turned his gaze again to the young woman in front of him, analyzing her face for the third time that day.
Hermione took the wand gently from his hands and brought it close to her. Something was going on in his mind, she could see that. The way he was looking at her, the expression on his often unreadable face. She decided to look out the window and pretend like nothing was happening, with the hopes that he would ignore whatever it was that had made him speechless. She knew she was a decrepit sorry excuse for a witch, knew that most people would stare at her, but none were Severus Snape. None held the power and influence that he did, none were her sworn enemy.
The landscape had slowly changed from the grey destruction of what had been Muggle London, to the green and almost untouched countryside that had been secured by the Dark Lord. It was a small perimeter that had expanded around the city, though some would call it beautiful Hermione knew better. This was where the camps were, where they kept dissidents and Muggles alike. These camps were what her carriage companion was responsible for, he was responsible for the death and suffering of many. She was in such a weird place - she should be thankful to him for saving her from torture and death, yet she felt nothing. It didn't erase how he stood there motionless and expressionless as the lives of her friends were snuffed out. It didn't change how he had hunted down those loyal to the order and had them killed. She hoped that if he was taking her to one of his 'camps' that her death was swift. If there was one thing she would beg for it would have been that. Escaping London to go to the north had been her last recourse, her last chance to flee the Dark Lord and fight against him. However now, now she could only wish that he was marching her right to the firing squad.
It was then that they entered a huge gate that went through the lawn of a rather large and beautiful castle. 'This isn't a camp.' she thought to herself. She had heard stories, and none of them were like this. Beautiful trees lined the small road as they made their way to the front entrance. Hermione couldn't help but close her eyes and let the smells and sounds of peace roll over her. The air was slightly damp and the fog was still thick, it felt like freedom, though she knew it could not be. The closer they came to the castle the more she could see what was waiting there for them. Several people in servant's uniforms waited outside, smiling to see the carriage returning. She found it odd that people would be smiling for his return, unsure as to what it meant. There were a few butlers, some maids and a rather plump woman standing out of the line they had formed, beaming with a grin almost as huge has her rounded belly.
The carriage came to a halt and Severus opened the door almost immediately. She could hear the slight squishing noise his shoe made when it hit the damp earth. "Oh Master Snape, it's so lovely to have you back at home." The rotund woman beamed as she hugged Snape, and to Hermione's surprise, he hugged her back. Like two old friends who had not seen one another in many years, it was odd - Snape with feelings.
"It's been such a long time Sir, I…." It was then that the jolly witch noticed Hermione move inside the carriage. "...and what is this?" She moved past Severus toward the carriage. "Oh why you poor little thing!" The old matrion scooped Hermione out of the carriage and supported her weight as she got out, still gripping Severus' cloak tightly about her. "You look like you've been chewed up and spit out by a troll." She remarked with a jolly laugh, her eyes caring and motherly.
"Maddie, please look after the girl and have her cleaned, clothed, fed and brought to me when you are done." Severus wasn't in the business of bringing home strays and was glad to see his head of the house taking the girl under her wing.
'She needs to be comfortable and safe here, then we can see.'
As Maddie fussed over Hermione and walked her toward the castle, she couldn't help but look back at Severus Snape, Master of the House, her savior and her destroyer. He was watching them intently, holding them in his dark black eyes. He was drilling a hole through her and she didn't know why. She turned her head back toward the castle and wondered what her fate would be, but knew she had to resign herself, that this was now her only recourse.