Author's Note: Still kind of rough, but it IS coming to an end! Please, please, please review and thank you to those who have been!

True to his word, he was gentler than the rest.

Hermione strived to keep her eyes shut but it was like watching a car wreck; she couldn't look away, even though she was in the vehicle aflame.

Her thighs burned more than she could ever imagine and she had no illusions of being able to walk immediately after this. Her lower belly was quite literally set ablaze each move he made. She tried not to blame him, tried not to kick him furiously, for it was her choice, after all. Nevertheless, her skin crawled with each passing second and nausea bubbled in her stomach.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes once more.

-BREAK-

Hidden behind a curtain of lank black hair, Snape wasn't even attempting to shield his regret. Every move was cautious and perfunctory. He got right down to business, unlike his brothers who all opted for the scenic route. Each time she gasped in pain, his eyes flew to hers to gauge how severe it was.

"Where does it hurt?" he muttered under his breath, his head bent close to hers under the pretense of kissing.

She hacked out a humorless, breathy laugh. "Everywhere," she gasped. "You can't avoid it."

He furrowed his brow and removed his wand from his sleeve. Carefully, discretely, he roved it over the body parts that he wasn't currently occupying. He detected several broken ribs, a chipped collar bone, a dislocated shoulder, and what would turn into two particular nasty black eyes. Bruises already covered every inch of her face.

Ye, Gods, they did a number on her.

Each time he bent close, her heart hammered as if to reach him. He avoided bending low. He bit his cheek and hated himself. Of all the despicable things he'd had to do over the course of his service, this nearly choked him. Every time she looked at him, his mind clouded with the face of an eleven year old with such a ferocious propensity for knowledge. She was innocent, and he was breaking her.

He rolled off of her, finally, and put himself to rights. It was with difficulty that he resisted helping the girl he'd just forced himself upon. He listened to her trying to control her heavy breathing and feared a fragment from a broken rib may have pierced her lung. He had to get her out of there.

He thought fast and leant close to her, bowing his head to zip his fly. "Faint," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

He couldn't see her face, but felt her body go still beside him. He straightened up and manipulated his face back into vacuity. The Dark Lord swept over to meet him halfway. "I think you rather wore her out, Severus," he hissed.

Snape leered, and glanced back toward her lifeless body. "Indeed, my Lord. Perhaps I should deposit her back at the school now, though. The old fool will have my wand if one of Potter's whores is harmed too severely."

This was risky and he knew it. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes to slits. Before he could speak, however, the Gods saw fit to finally throw Snape a bone. A crack sounded and the circle of Death Eaters parted to allow a sniveling rat of a man with a silver hand to pass. Peter Pettigrew scuttled up to the hem of the Dark Lord's robes and pressed his dirty lips to them. The latter kicked, and the rat whimpered before backing away.

"My Lord," he simpered, his voice grating on Snape's last nerve, "I bear news, my Lord."

The Dark Lord glowered and glanced at his followers. "Disperse," he whispered, but it echoed, and they obeyed immediately. "Severus," he murmured, and glanced at the girl. "Dispose of the trash."

Snape's curiosity churned. He would send his followers away for nothing short of travesty. He brushed that away to more important concerns and withdrew his wand, levitating the girl towards him. He crafted distaste carefully across his face until the Dark Lord was gone in a charcoal plume.

It was then he took her in his arms.

"Miss Granger." He shook her lightly. She peeked through bruised eyelids and saw the coast was clear. "How do you feel?"

She opened her mouth to respond but was taken with a fit of coughs. The spatter of blood that came with it answered his question.

"Right," he whispered. "St. Mungo's it is."

They arrived in front of a gratefully empty waiting room in the ward. Snape rushed the front desk; the woman behind it jumped when she caught sight of Hermione.

"She was attacked," Snape explained in a composed voice that surprised him. "Multiple men. Her injuries are extensive; I fear she's punctured a lung."

To emphasize his words, it seemed, Hermione turned her head towards the floor and vomited red.

"Help," Snape whispered, and this time it wasn't as calm.

The poor woman nodded, pressed a button beneath her desk, and jumped up. As she did, a swarm of Healers swooped down upon them. Hermione was lifted brusquely from his arms and he watched her panicked eyes until they disappeared behind a door marked "Urgent".

A hand landed on his chest as he tried to march straight after her. His eyes found those of a harried Medi-witch. "Family only," she snapped as she, too, disappeared after Hermione.

Snape nodded, and backtracked. The receptionist led him to a waiting area where he could watch the door that hid Hermione from him. She told him to ask if he needed anything before she retreated to her post.

Snape let his pounding head fall into his hands. And he waited. For news, for a miracle, for a punishment.

He waited.