I'm back! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter and you all enjoy this one too. As always I only own the plot everything else belongs to their respective owners. Thank you to: silkeengelsslike for favouriting and following, dancerengland for following, StrawberryCosplay for favouriting and following, Nikkipond for following and tkm8949 for following this story. You all make my day! I will answer any question you may have and I hope you review but on with the story!
Two
Unreliable Wishes
The world is not a wish-granting factory – John Green, 'The Fault in our Stars'.
Wishes, they were the things that little girl's prayed for when they saw a falling star or at the moment before the candles on their birthday cake goes out. They were the things that were the biggest when thought or said aloud in moments of desperation. However, they rarely came true. Hermione knew this and ironically wished for that fact to be false.
Hermione must have somehow slept for a time. At least she thought she had because Bellatrix's most recent torture replayed itself over and over again. Sleep was just an illusion to dust over the troubles of reality but for Hermione it was just a broken record. She supposed it was like that because she too was broken, although she would hopefully never show that to the death eaters.
Bellatrix was insane. That was easily established from the start but it was cemented by her arrival in the dungeon with a quick 'well, let's have a chat shall we? Girl to girl,' and then she started. She had approached silently with a cruel smirk twisting her face, hair frazzled and crazy like always. Apart from the Cruciatus' being put on her body at random and rather frequent intervals Bellatrix had also taken advantage of the shackle on her wrist. The sensation of flesh rubbing on the rusting metal would be forever burnt into her mind. The usual questions had been repeated 'What are they planning?' 'Where are they?' 'Do you want to die?' the last one was the creepiest because it was asked in a low tone and when Hermione had answered with a moaning no Bellatrix had simply said "Then answer,"
Her pleads could be heard from outside of the cellar. They had changed from moaning and pleading the word no to screaming 'please, l – let me go, just let me go, please. PLEASE!' At one point Bellatrix had took out a blade and caressed Hermione's neck with it, pulling sharply on her lank hair.
"My master only told me to have fun but I doubt he'll miss you much," she inquired and dug the knife in deeper, "No one would miss you, not Potty, or Weasel or your filthy, disgusting parents," she crooned. It was a low blow and twisted her stomach into knots. She hoped they were safe in Australia. She hoped that the pain of losing her parent's for a while and making them forget her was worth it. "Because you're worthless, disgusting, filthy and you have dirty, useless blood." After that and one more Cruciatus Bellatrix left, leaving Hermione trembling with slight line of blood splitting the skin of her collarbone like a dark necklace.
Waking was no better, she was plagued with homesickness. She wondered about Harry and Ron and what they would be doing. She wondered about what was happening at Hogwarts, whether a school ruled by Snape was as dark as what she currently faced. She shuddered at the possibility and empathised with the poor students. Lastly she wondered about her parent's, were they having fun in Australia? She knew that her parent's used to joke that life was more adventurous before she was around so they must be. She missed the feeling of a dusty tome in her hands, while she sat amongst the shelves of countless stories in the Library at Hogwarts; she missed her friends laughing and joking, the warmth of the Gryffindor Common Room; she missed the feeling of her bed at home with her stuffed teddy, called Mr. Bear, the dim circle of light casted by her desk lamp illuminating the pages of her fairy tale book and the soft hum of music flowing into her ears.
She remembered those fairy tales, full of magic and princesses and battles. Before she turned 11 she was always dreaming about being whisked away into a world of magic and her dream had come true on her birthday. A day full of cake and presents was topped by a single letter addressed to her in the living room of number 17 Four Point Way. Back then she had never even thought that magic could have a dark side; she thought that it was perfect – and just, well, magical. But as she entered Hogwarts and people ignored her and pushed her off as an 'annoying know it all' she found out then that there was a downside to magic and within the pages of countless books they told her that magic could be taken advantage of and used in the wrong way. Greed and envy and anger were the products of a mad man who just wanted to right the wrong. She knew that there were wrongs in the Wizarding World besides Voldemort's push for power; they were the facts that Muggleborn's were so unprepared for magic and had to learn a whole new world on their own, that House Elves were so easily abused (she knew now that they loved to serve and took pride in the wellbeing of their assigned family), that Wizards relied too heavily on magic for basic needs, that prejudice existed in every corner. But nothing was perfect was it? Oh, she was rambling to pass the time again.
Staring at the darkness around her she convinced herself that the continuous torture, the threat of going insane like Neville's parents, the threat of death was worth it. Harry and Ron had got out of this madness and they were hopefully safe. They could defeat Voldemort without her. "They can do this," she whispered into the nothingness around her. She lay there praying. Her praying stopped when the door opened again and her stomach dropped. Fenrir Greyback entered with a flashy grin; rows of glittering sharp teeth greeted her. A ball of light was lit just above his wand illuminating his path; Hermione. She wished that he wasn't here to do what she thought he was going to do...
(Trigger warning; there is slight attempted rape so skip it if you want to).
"My Lord has given me permission to have my way with you. He said that it might relax you a bit," he laughed darkly, sauntering over to her he knelt. Hermione trembled and shuddered. His hand came up and caressed her face, she shuck under his callous hand. Gathering her limited strength she skittered as far away from him as she could possibly be. However the chain restricted her movements, she glared at the rusted chain. "You can't run from me you silly mudblood," he chuckled, tracing the outline of her lips. Hermione attempted to bite him and nicked his fingertips, a light slap was the punishment for that. She could feel the sting of it on her cheek. "Bad mudblood," he sighed, "Look what you made me do, harm your pretty face," he stroked her hair, removing it from her face.
"Please, no. Merlin, please," She whimpered,
He wiped away the gathering sweat; he dragged his hand down further, in between her breasts (he smirked and laughed and exclaimed that he would save them for later, she whimpered at that) down her stomach and down her legs. She tried to kick and to flail but it was useless, it only awarded her a slap on her bottom; she shifted to avoid the pain of sitting on it. His tongue flicked out to lick at his lips. With one final smirk his head came closer to her "Don't scream," he whispered.
He caught her right ear in between his teeth and proceeded to nibble on it. Hermione screamed. A hand clasped over her lips, halting it. She hated his taste it was sweaty and slightly bloody and disgusting. His lips were done with her ear and went onto her throat; they graced it and then nibbled. He left open mouthed kisses and then sucked until she was sure it would leave a mark. Great, a reminder of this event it would make it even harder to forget it. A tear leaked from her eye. She struggled and free hand caught her wrists, handling them so rough that she thought it would bruise the tender skin. He then opened his mouth further and she could feel his teeth scraping against her skin. She whimpered against his hand, protesting, screaming no. "You'd make a fine mate but sadly I'm not allowed," and he detached his lips from her throat. He moved on and removed his hand from her mouth and attached his lips to hers. It was revolting; he tasted ghastly, his lips forcefully tried to gain access to her mouth and she hoped he wouldn't, she didn't need his tongue in her mouth tainting it even further.
(Trigger warning ended).
But she was saved by the door being opened again. "Greyback the Dark Lord wants her to shower before the meeting," She swivelled her head to the side and saw a Death Eater in the crack of light of the beyond. She sighed in relief as Greyback removed his hands and lips from her.
"Can't you see that I'm busy," he retorted,
"You don't want to defy our Lord do you?" the Death Eater replied, he must have been a low rank Death Eater as Greyback had spoken to him forcefully but the Death Eater was brave as he stood up to the higher ranked and tougher man.
"Okay let's get this bitch showered, she stinks anyway," Greyback spat and stood up gesturing to the Death Eater. He produced a key and gave it to Greyback where he unlocked the shackle around her wrist. She was glad for that but her relief didn't last long as she was hauled up and her wrists were bound by magic. She didn't understand why they hadn't done that in the first place but... her head swam when she stood up too quickly and a hand was swiftly put over her eyes. She was made to walk forwards and through the cracks of the fingers she could see light. Blinding light that she wasn't used to invaded her senses. She revelled in it because she knew that it might be one of the last times she would see it. She was forced to walk up stairs and was manhandled into a room, she could hear a door shut and lock behind her.
When the hand was removed from her eyes she noticed that she was in a bathroom. It wasn't that lavish, black starry patterned tiles were on the floor, white on the walls, a stark white toilet, sink, bath and shower were there also. The death eaters pushed her towards the shower and one pointed at a pile of clothes on the top of the toilet. The magical bonds on her wrists had been undone but she knew that she couldn't run.
"May I use the toilet first?" Hermione asked tentatively, they scoffed but turned their backs anyway. You know it's hard to do your business while you know that people are watching, or could turn around at any moment. It was horrendous but she had to go and it was nice to not have to do it in the cellar in a pot or something. She said when she was done and they pushed her again to the shower. Hesitantly she went in the shower and drew the curtain. Once inside she peeled off her grimy clothes, they were blood and sweat sodden, and it felt good to be out of them. She threw them out of the shower and heard that the death eaters would burn the 'evidence'. Hesitantly, she looked down at her body, on each wrist there were several slashes and a circle of bruises on one off of the shackle and on the other was the offending word, besides that her body was just beaten and sore from having been laid down in the cellar for so long. She deemed herself lucky.
"Hurry up mudblood we don't have all day," Greyback snarled and Hermione turned the dial. She suppressed a shriek at the coldness. Once it warmed up she still shuddered at the sensation of water on her sore body. She saw shampoo, conditioner and soap on a ledge and hurried to wash, she didn't want to anger the death eater's.
Her mind wandered again to Harry and Ron. Bless Harry, the boy could never get a break, he had to live everyday being chased by Voldemort and now his best friend was gone, no doubt he would harbour the guilt of their capture and her torture and imprisonment because after all he had a hero complex. Ron was a rather slow character, she knew that he was the one to panic and to want to rush head first into a rescue mission and Harry would have to pull him back. But she had pined for him for all of these years, loving the bones of him and angering herself in their senseless arguments. Did she want to leave this earth still loving him, or leave it knowing that he would find another (he didn't even love her anyways) and move on from their friendship? Merlin this was too much. She rubbed the products into her hair and then passed the soap over her skin.
"Oh Merlin what was she hiding under all of those clothes?" One of the death eaters whistled, Hermione froze.
"I hear she's a fuckin' tease but I reckon that Potter can't live without his mudblood so he'll be back real soon – "another muttered.
"I'm ready to go for another battle; after Potter's dead the Dark Lord might let us have a go with her," the first one uttered, "What was she like Greyback?"
"Delicious, lovely and a fighter, she's Potter's mudblood so she bites." He replies, the other men laugh and approve. Hermione felt sick. She slid down the wall and let the water burn her skin. Putting on an emotionless mask was hard but she willed herself to not show a weakness in front of the pack of dogs, many had a brutish mentality anyway.
Meanwhile, he sat in a room; he was still as a statue too horrified to move. He heard her screams; he had heard them all morning. Although they hadn't been going all morning he could still hear them in his ears, he had been awoken in the early hours of the morning to her screams, his dreams were haunted by the pain filled calls. He heard what they were planning on doing to her. But he couldn't do anything; he just sat there and listened to her pain. He had just drawn his knees up into his chest and rocked back and forth, occasionally knocking his head lightly against the wall. It was the frantic movements of a child too scared to be heard. He was sick to his stomach, and that had nothing to do with the fact that he had barely eaten anything today, how on earth had she not told on her friends yet? He knew what it was like to be under pressure and under torture and it was like you were drowning, drowning in the need to meet requirements and drowning out everything but the pain. A knock echoed on his door. It was time.
"Hurry it up Gorgeous we want to see that bod' of yours," It drew her out of her sickened silence. She got up on shaking legs and turned off the water, shivering in its warm absence. Unhooking the towel from the hook, just beyond the curtain, she wrapped it around her body like a dress and criticised herself for not moving the pile of clothes. Sighing, she moved out of the shower and ignored the whistles and catcalls from the death eaters. Oh God, she wished their leering would stop. She picked up the pile and turned around so they could only see her back; she dropped the towel down onto her hips and pulled on the top. She then put on the bottoms which were a pair of knickers and a black skirt which left her conscious of her exposed legs. The death eaters started again when she dropped the towel for the final time. The clothes must have been off of Pansy from her stays here at the manor because they were short, to appease Draco, and Slytherin colours – the shirt was a deep green silk and the skirt had silver trimmings, her feet were bare.
She towel dried her hair, but one of the death eaters was kind enough to dry it with magic he said that 'he would do anything to appease the Dark Lord,' another one chimed in that a lot of work had to be done with her to accomplish that and another one said that she simply needed to put her legs in the air. Her stomach churned. With a hand closing down on her eyes again they led her out of the bathroom. Several corridors, turns and a flight of stairs later she could feel a sense of foreboding in the air. She could feel that they were just outside a set of doors and whatever was inside of that room was something drastic enough to bring her there instead of going back to the dungeon. She heard the door opening. A few steps into the room and the hand was removed from her face. Inside was a long table, stretching across the length of the room, seated along that table was a horde of Death Eaters including the Malfoy's and Bellatrix. At the head was Voldemort, his red eyes shining with glee. But her eyes were drawn to something just above the table; an apparently unconscious Muggle man hanging upside down over the table, revolving slowly as if he was suspended by a seemingly invisible rope.
She wished that this was all over, that she was back with Harry and Ron searching unknown places for unknown items, she wished that she was anywhere but there. Unfortunately, the world doesn't work that way.