Warning: This chapter contains some rather graphic scenes of non-consensual sex.

A/N: I do not, in any way, condone rape. This chapter is NOT an attempt to glorify rape, sexual abuse is wrong, more than wrong.

Chapter 6: The Voice

It was Eleven at night when Severus could finally muster the strength to come out of his Cellar, his hideout at the moment. Minerva had left a couple of hours ago. She had coaxed the girl into eating something, after which he was told she had fallen asleep. Granger had also asked Minerva to place certain Charms on her room. One of them was to keep Severus from entering the room without her explicit permission or approval. He had raged at Minerva for complying to her request. What if a situation of emergency were to arise, he had reasoned. To which the elderly witch had explained that in case of an emergency, the wards would not stop Severus.

Minerva had also taken the liberty of confiscating a few items from her—with the girl's approval. At least, he would not have to worry about the girl attempting something in the dead of the night. He, Severus would soon—surreptitiously—put wards on her room that would notify him if she was in any mortal peril—self inflicted or otherwise.

But now, he had a more intense issue to look into. He had half considered to ask Minerva to stay until... But that would have been even more morbid and disconcerting than the situation already was. Also, the elderly witch had been in his house since the early morning, he could not ask for more favours, especially not those that would only prove to be extremely uncomfortable.

Severus made his way up the steps, making enough noise with his feet so as to let the girl know that he was coming—if only to give her little time to prepare herself. He felt like a criminal. Like when he used to go to people's houses for Death Eater raids, in his days as a Death Eater. It was the same feeling... He was feeling just as much of a criminal...

He still remembered the first raid that he had been a part of, vividly so. He had killed an elderly couple, while Lucius, who was ordered to 'train' Severus, had pulled his wand to a younger couple in the house. Together, they had reduced the perfectly happy joint family, Muggles at that, to soulless bodies and lifeless eyes, only for their amusement. But Severus had thrown up when a toddler had come up waddling out of his nursery, bawling at the sight of his mother's battered corpse.

Merlin knew what the child had made of the situation, but Severus had had no time to contemplate the plight of the child before Lucius had murdered the boy with a Slicing Hex, aimed at the delicate flesh of his throat. Severus had thrown up, not at the sight or stench of blood, but at the realisation of his own brutality, his potential to be dark. That day, he had truly understood why Lily had left him—she could see the inherent darkness in his soul. But even so, he had not stopped once to think over his actions, he had not stopped and evaluated himself. He had been blind in his power.

That raid had been the first of many to follow. Severus had become apathetic to the plight of his victims eventually and relished in the praises that the Dark Lord offered. But he did have nightmares, frequent and viscous. That had encouraged him to learn Occlumency in the first place.

He wondered to what depths would he have lost himself had the guilt of having gotten Lily, the only woman he had ever come to love, killed. Cradling Lily's lifeless body to his chest, he had felt the heavily weighing guilt on his conscience, and the memory of the toddler still haunted him sometimes. Once more, that night at the Godric's Hallow, he had realised with deeper understanding why Lily had left him. Why she never forgave him. Because he was not worthy of her forgiveness.

Severus was a murderer. A Death Eater. A killer. And now, a rapist, too.

His steps stumbled at the top of the stairs. He could not be a rapist, too. He had killed the helpless, yes. Tortured, yes. But not raped, never raped. Lucius liked to take such liberties with his victims, but not Severus. It reminded him too strongly of his Mother, who had been helpless before his Father, who had been a victim of marital rape for years. The obscene idea of abusing someone to that extent had felt innately wrong to him even in his darkest of days.

That was where he had drawn a line.

The girl...she was under his tutelage. He was supposed to protect her! Merlin!

Stop wallowing in self pity, you idiot! You don't have much time!

Severus sighed. He took hesitant steps towards the guest room where Granger was. He would talk to the girl first. Not force her. Tell her about the consequences that she would face if they did not do this. Perhaps that would ease her—and even him—a bit.

He could hear nothing from inside. Severus knocked thrice on the door. But she did not answer. The headache that had subsided earlier was brewing again. He knocked once more.

"Wait!" The girl shouted from inside.

Severus winced. She was so bitter—but wasn't he deserving of it. Her hatred was justified. Truly, he could deal with anger and hatred rather than tears or withdrawal. Anger meant she was trying to cope up.

He waited outside the door for a good ten minutes, before the door opened.

The room was dark. Neither was any lights on nor were the curtains open enough to let the streetlight lighten the room much. The light from the corridor gave him a glimpse inside. He could see the silhouette of the girl, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Her wand, she was twirling in her fingers.

"Miss Granger-"

"Not a word!" She stated. Severus had no intention of bearing with another bout of her magic going unrestrained. He snapped his mouth shut, anyway at a loss to what he could say. He still wanted to talk to her first. But her behaviour was making him question his approach. Perhaps, talking would be too disconcerting for the both of them. It was a task that had to be finished.

He did not question her choice of keeping the room dark. She was not willing to accept what was going to happen... Well, neither was he.

Severus had to give her the Contraceptive Potion before. Also, he had brewed a Numbing Potion if she was willing to take it. How could Severus go on at the very least without asking if she had ever before... Shit! He was stuck in a mess he had no way of getting himself out of.

He shut the door very softly behind himself. Yet, the girl flinched. When he stepped towards her but she shifted farther away. Was she afraid of him? That would be even worse. He did not want to go forward with this. He began racing his mind what could happen at worse if the Dark Lord found out that Severus was not willing to rape the girl?

He would be declared disloyal and a 'Mudblood-lover'. He would either be hunted down and killed or imprisoned until he died. The Order would lose its intel, thinning their already flimsy chances of ever winning the war.

But it would mostly affect the girl. The bond would punish her. Kill her eventually.

Severus took the Numbing Potion out of his pocket and offered it to the girl.

She peered at the vial for moment before snatching it—careful not to touch his hand at all. She smashed the phial on the floor. "Don't even think of taking advantage of me, thinking I cannot feel what you're doing!"

Severus clenched his hands into fists. Did she really think him to be so twisted! When had he ever given that impression to her?! But he forbade himself from speaking. It would not do to hype her fear...or anger, whichever one it was. He sincerely hoped that it was the latter.

He fished the Contraceptive Potion out of his pocket and offered it to her, praying that she would think before smashing it, too. He could only prepare a single vial of both potions in so less a time.

Granger glared at the vial again. But now, she took it and uncorked it. The girl downed the potion in a go. Her hands were mildly trembling when she put the vial away, Severus noticed.

Now what? He needed to talk to her. To put her at relative ease. He did not know whom he was wanting to do that for—for her ease or to release his own sense of guilt and self-loathing.

He removed his heavy robe and put it aside, leaving himself in his black trousers and a white button-down shirt. He could see that the girl was wearing Muggle clothes—a long skirt and a shirt. It seemed that she had actually taken time to dress herself in a manner that would minimise the need to undress as much as possible.

Small mercies...

Severus' own fingers faltered when he, very quietly, started unbuckling his belt. The girl visibly shuddered and Severus cringed at the situation. She was trying to keep a brave front as much as she could—Gryffindor as she was.

UUUUUUU

Hermione had dreaded the hour since she had been informed of what was to follow. Initially, the anger was enough to overpower the fear or shame, but as time passed, she became aware of the other feelings.

Along with grief, the fear came. Every time she looked at the despicable ring, she had felt sick. That man was her Professor, just weeks ago she had sat in his class. How could they...

It felt so wrong.

It is wrong. Wretched. Abject.

She had tried her best to dress herself in clothes that would expose the least. She had worn a blouse with full-sleeves, a long skirt to avoid actually taking any clothing off. Hermione had also worn thigh-high stockings to avoid any exposure more than...absolutely necessary. That was the way her mind worked, she needed everything planned.

She had cried several times while waiting. She had dozed off and then returned to wakefulness to find herself cold. She had cried holding Crookshanks before sending him out of the room. She had considered suicide again but could still not convince herself of killing Snape. Hermione had thought of running away, but then, too, her death due to not following the bond would mean the same for Snape.

The bitter taste of the Contraceptive made her gut clench, it made everything real. The other Numbing Potion that she had thrown away had ignited a new surge of anger within her. How dare he! She had never considered the man to be with perverse intentions. But the current scenario itself proved that she had been gravely wrong at judging the man. How many times had her friends warned her. But she had, like a fool, disregarded their low opinion of the man.

Hermione eventually made up her mind not to delay any further and be done with it. Her anger would mean another bout of destruction. And showing any hint of fear was out of question.

"You might want to..." Snape gestured towards the middle of the bed. Hermione could barely prevent herself from recoiling at his voice. Her body moved on its own accord to sit in the middle.

He took measured steps towards Hermione, while she remained or rather tried to remain unaffected. Suddenly she could feel the fabric of her stockings clinging to her skin and a slight, sickening tingle ran through her flesh. As he closed the distance between them, Hermione felt suffocated.

"It would not take anymore time than is absolutely necessary," Snaoe said in a very quiet voice. Hermione could not pick up anything under the tone. Maybe she had nodded, maybe she did not. It was hard to comprehend.

"Please..." he said in a low voice. Hermione knew what he meant. She did not know how she understood what he wanted, though.

A chill ran down her spine as she dragged herself backwards, towards the headboard. Hermione got her legs closer to her body, hugging them to herself. Her breaths came in involuntary shudders and tears threatened to spill on her cheeks.

She heard him kicking off his shoes. Hermione bit her lip to refrain a gasp. The mattress near her dipped as he climbed up. Hermione was grateful for the lack of light as she squeezed her eyes shut in nervousness and fear. She did not want to show how afraid she was...

Her dorm-mates had told her that 'the first time' was special. Special? It was a torment. She would never feel special in that act again. This night would taint her view of anything intimate with anyone—forever. People said that there was something almost sacrosanct about first kiss and first love—but even those concepts seemed morbid now. Her first kiss was with Viktor—at least it had been with her will. Now, she was not even sure what to expect... Ginny had told her that 'couples' discussed about it to make it 'enjoyable' and not fearsome. But Hermione wanted to contradict her friend, wanted to tell her that all she could feel was fear and a sense of being gravely wronged!

"You would need to..." He stopped mid-sentence, again hoping that she would understand. Hermione wanted to snap at him, tell him that she could not bear to listen to his voice because it reminded her of the Killing Curse that he had cast on her parents. But nothing escaped her lips.

It did not matter to him. He might even draw his pleasure from this. That perverted man might even enjoy torturing her.

Very reluctantly, Hermione scooted up a bit and brought her body down on the bed. She felt light and shaky. Snape scooted near her bent knees and stockings-clad feet.

Hermione was not looking at him, her eyes were shut. Yet, it was as if she was watching themselves from the door like a film, a dreadful, horror film watching which she wanted to cover her eyes and never open them again until this horrible scene ended.

For some time, nothing happened and Hermione thought- no, hoped that he had suddenly found a way to trick the spell. But then, he said, in a very low and hesitant (was it?) voice, "Miss Granger..."

"Shut up!" She finally snapped, bolting upright and leaving the bed. She stood pointing her wand at him, her hands shaking violently. "Don't you understand? I don't want to hear you! Just shut up!" Tears—hot, angry tears rolled down her face. Hermione stood there, panting and shuddering and sobbing in myriad of emotions, her wand still trained at him.

From where he sat on the bed, he brought his hand to rub his temples. They remained like that for a while. The silence was again broken by him.

"Hear me out. Please." It was a whisper, a low whisper. It sounded so resigned that she couldn't speak anymore. He had never heard Snape using a voice so quiet... It was as if he had ran for miles and now had no more energy to spend on words.

"Miss Granger, I am only trying to make this easier for you," he said in the same voice. "Just answer a few questions. It is a request."

"Ask." Her voice came out on its own accord, more like a gruff bark. But her wand remained aimed.

Snape sighed heavily, facing away from her, "Is this your...first..."

Hermione winced. "Yes!" She hissed, tightening her hold on her wand. He loathed every bit of it.

He seemed to have muttered something to himself that she couldn't catch.

"I can- Allow me to...help you-"

"I want to be done with it! As soon as I can! That is all the help you can provide!" She snapped.

"Fine." He huffed, standing up. Hermione abruptly backed towards the wall. In the dark, she saw him flinch at her reaction before he himself took a step back and gestured her towards the bed.

Hermione watched him warily. She slowly lowered her wand and walked back to the bed. She again climbed on it and moved to the centre. Lying down again, she bent her knees, clutching the sheets. Her heart was beating in her ears.

The mattress dipped once more and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. For the rest of her life, she would keep recalling this night and feel its cold horror. For the rest of her life, this night would haunt her.

He sighed again, but this time to hint her. When she opened her eyes and glanced at him, Hermione found him looking at the wall instead. Slowly lifted her skirt to her knees, she slipped her trembling fingers in the elastic of her underpants and slipped them down her legs, feeling a heated blush of embarrassment cover her face. She quickly, then, smoothed the skirt over the top of her knees again, as well as her blouse. Though in vain. Her mind threatened to slip away into unconsciousness with panic, but her higher self told her that only she could look out for herself in this moment.

Again, she felt the bed dipping as he knelt beside her. The dreaded sound of his button and zip opening brought her close to tears in fright.

I don't want to do this.

Her chest tightened with agitation as she arranged herself, knowing well the limit of the exposure. But Snape's eyes remained trained on the bedspread even when he moved closer to Hermione. It left her uncertain of his intentions.

Her breath hitched and the panic rose. She clutched the cotton cloth even tighter if possible. Her eyebrows were twitched in a fashion that clearly depicted her tension.

"I will be...as gentle as possible..."

Don't do this. Don't do this to me. "Just be done with it." A lump was constricting her throat painfully.

Hermione, gradually, fighting with her own self, parted her thighs. There was no question of her eyes remaining open. They were closed and she refused to watch themselves from the door anymore.

"Try to...relax," he said. As Snape came closer, Hermione bit her lower lip hard. Soft, dry sobs punctuated her breathing occasionally.

He bent over her and brought his hands to lie beside her shoulders, but never touching her. His contradictory behaviour confused her.

Hermione shuddered when she registered the warmth between their bodies, realising the closeness.

"Relax," he whispered. She could feel his face just above herself, but thankfully never closer than necessary.

He removed one of his hands from her side and Hermione braced herself for the inevitable.

Why do I have to do this! Why!

The events of the last few hours flashed in front of eyes. How easy life was... The carefree conversation with her mother, the playful banter with her father, the aroma of his cooking. She could not believe it was only hours ago, it felt like years away.

Hermione gasped as she felt him near her entrance, wanting to cry out loud and tell him to stop!

"Just breathe," he instructed and she instantly started taking deep breaths in a futile attempt to calm her shaking body.

She was lost in some other dimension, her mind went numb. She could only feel the slight push down and nothing made sense.

As he tried to make his way in, the first surge of sharp pain took over Hermione. She bit her lip again, but couldn't control the first tears that slipped down her temple.

"Relax," he sounded a little breathless himself as he said that.

He pushed in further and now a deep, choking sob escaped her lips. Her dryness down there aggravated things further. Hermione's nails were digging into the flesh of her palm as her body shuddered in a mix of pain and sorrow.

"Only a little further," he tried to comfort her with those awkward words, but she couldn't bear it getting any worse.

What was life doing to her. How did she get stuck into this? How come Hermione Granger, the serious, sensible, studious witch got stuck into this? She was supposed to be in her house, safe. Or at Hogwarts, finishing her assignments. Or at the Grimmauld Place, trying to sneak into an Order meeting. In that moment, she felt so alone that her heart hurt. She had to face this on her own. There would be no help coming for her. None of her friends knew where she was. And her parents were gone so far away from her.

When he tried to move further, the pain grew, the worst kind of pain! It surged through her body and gave her a taste of hell. Hermione cried out, bringing a hand to her mouth, immediately. Her legs were shivering and the tears continued to stream down her temples.

She felt the the kind of pain, that she would dread forever. She wanted it to be over. She didn't care about the consequences any longer. She just wanted to hide somewhere until she could somehow go back home.

"Just relax, Miss Grangee," he kept telling her.

Snape didn't move for a minute and she was more than grateful to him for that. She couldn't imagine the pain it would cause her if he even moved slightly. Constantly, she asked herself the reason for giving her consent to this. She asked herself if the knowledge that she had caused Snape's death would have been less or more painful than her current plight. How could something that people described to be so beautiful be so wretched, she wondered in agony. Perhaps, all it needed to make it beautiful or rather bearable was the desire—to do it with someone of your choice, someone you love... Snape was not her choice and certainly not someone she could ever love. She hated him with all the bitterness she could muster.

After a minute or so, she could not tell, laying in that state, the pain started to lessen. Her muscles started relaxing. But as the agony lessened, it gave way to the sheer shame. At least the pain was distracting her.

"Better?" He asked.

She whimpered a yes.

"The worst is over," he said, bringing his hand back beside her.

She did not want to discuss it. She just wanted it to be over! But at the back of her head, she knew that she was clinging to his voice to distract herself—the voice that she hated, the voice that she never wanted to hear—that voice was all she had to cling to.

He slowly resumed the process, seemingly mindful of her condition. Hermione would often gasp in between, making him reduce his pace. He was right, the worst was over.

Above her, Snape was breathless. Hermione could hear his sharp intakes and his attempts at suppressing his moans, just as she was biting her tongue to suppress hers.

She didn't feel pain after that, but only a strong sensation building in her body, no matter how much she tried to distract her mind. But that seemed inevitable as he picked up speed.

She thought of anything and everything that happened to cross her mind, desperate to prevent what she knew was going to happen. In that moment, she wished she had learned to Occlude. She thought of everything that the man had done to her, to hers. The man was a killer! She could not let herself lose before him—him!

A Death Eater, despite what the Headmaster said. A murderer.

Hermione's back was arched, often running her tongue over her lips.

Her mind went over every futile thing that could help her to distract herself. She tried to recall the recipe of a random potion she had read in some book in the Hogwarts Library, tried to revise the quindecasyllabic Latin words that she had learnt, tried to picture herself in a hollow looking at thick darkness.

But nothing worked.

Soon, something tightened within her and she felt a pleasant sensation rush through her body, any hint of pain relinquished her body completely for a moment. Hermione had to put her hand on her mouth to suppress the moan, but mostly in vain. The waves of pleasure ran through her body unapologetically, contrary to her mental state.

After some time, she couldn't comprehend how long, she heard a groan from him as he went deeper in a slower motion. She felt warmth spreading in her body. But in the haze that was her state of mind, she could register nothing more than a lingering buzz in her ears. With one last push, Snape slowly and carefully withdrew himself from her.

Hermione slowly brought her shaky legs to rest on the bed again and covered herself with her skirt again. But she didn't dare to move, neither having the energy nor the will to, as breathless as she was. Vaguely, she felt the band on her finger emit soft warmth.

Hermione heard Snape moving out of the bed without waiting any further. Her body felt limp and lifeless. A dull ache lurked between her legs, but she couldn't care less after the soul crunching agony she had just been through. With eyes still closed, she heard Snape buckling his belt back.

Tears of shame leaked from her eyes. How could she have... She tried hard to control her breathing, to fake an impression that she felt nothing, her body didn't react at all. What was wrong with her! How twisted was she! A more educated voice told her that it was a human body's natural reaction to a stimulation of that nature. That her mind or will had no part to play. But that voice was stuffed under the weight of the more self-critical notions.

All Hermione wanted to do was to close her eyes and be gone into some soothing land of dreams, where nightmares couldn't plague her, and forget about the night forever.

She curled herself into a ball, mindful of keeping every inch of her body concealed, save for her face and hands. She buried her face in the sheets and covered her head with her arms as heart wrenching sobs shook her shoulders. She didn't care if Snape witnessed her breakdown, she could not deny herself the relief anymore.

She just felt so, so dirty. The notions prevalent in the Victorian Era of a girl's modesty that she had always disregarded made so much more sense to her today. Hermione did not entertain orthodox ideas but she could not deny feeling every bit of body being tainted. Her will was not into this act, every inch of her mind was repulsive towards it. And yet, it had happened.

"There might be some light bleeding," She heard him speaking from a distance, his voice strained. "But that is quite normal."

He said something incoherent about a Pain Reliever, but she didn't move.

"Miss Granger, please, take this potion." Hermione heard his voice as a distant murmur, but when she heard his footsteps coming closer, she snapped.

"Get the hell out of here!" Hermione screamed, looking into the darkness where his barely visible silhouette stood frozen. "Get OUT!"

A clink of glass indicated a vial being placed on the table.

"Get the HELL OUT!" The window panes trembled at her outburst, supported by her magic. "JUST GO!"

Hermione wanted to throw something at him, something large, sharp, something that would hurt him, kill him! Instead, she regained her former position, burying her face into the softness of the fabric. All energy had left her body, she felt sick. The last thing she heard before deep sobs assaulted her was the sound of the door being closed.

She would always hate him. Always.

A really dark chapter, yes. It was just as hard to write. Please tell me how you find it, if it was a little too bold or on point? Please acknowledge my efforts and leave a review.

Thanks for reading! :)