Day 5, early morning
They arrived in a dark, dingy alley. The air smelt of stale alcohol and trash. It had rained recently, Hermione surmised, based on the amount of puddles they had to dodge. At least, she hoped it was rain puddles and not bodily fluids.
Snape kept her wrist grasped in his arm as he directed her quickly through the labyrinth of houses. Hermione remained speechless, completely numb. The witch made note of the tall, abandoned factory that was built along a filthy river. She memorized the large chimney— that would certainly be memorable enough— she never knew when she'd have a chance to escape, maybe she could use this as an apparition point.
They crossed onto a deserted street now. The flickering, broken street lamps made it feel both eerie and inviting to her, after all, it had to have been a muggle neighborhood if they had electricity. Maybe she could stay here. The last house on the street looked slightly more lived in. A lone lamp gave just enough light to illuminate the house number. Snape cast a furtive glance around before pulling out his wand and waving it around in an intricate pattern, removing the wards.
She stumbled as he nudged her over the threshold. He flicked his wand, turning on all the lights and re-setting the wards to the front door. Hermione tried to take in the sheer amount of books that lined every wall, giving the house a cluttered appearance. She didn't mind, however. She was still too numb, too far gone under the imperious curse to fully grasp anything.
Snape pushed her towards a thread-bare sofa, barking at her to sit before he all-but-ran down the hallway. She heard him throw open the door to a room, stumbling inside and promptly vomiting. She thought she heard some soft sobs coming from the door and wanted to check. But she still felt compelled to remain where she was. Unaware of how much time had passed, she jumped when she heard the door to what she presumed to be the loo closed.
"Miss Granger," Snape spoke softly. She looked up to see his pallid complexion. His eyes were sunken in and red-rimmed, his lank hair clung to his face and was either wet from perspiration or he had splashed his face. He seemed broken, almost. He couldn't even look at her.
She tried to be patient.
"I'm going to slowly release the imperious spell, Miss Granger. Things will… come back to you rather quickly. You should be somewhere comfortable." Snape looked decidedly abashed with his deep frown and downcast eyes. "I had thought about the bedroom, so you could lie down, but given the circumstances of tonight, I feel our current location should suffice."
He took a step closer, sitting in an equally worn armchair. He flicked his wand towards the fireplace and the room instantly warmed. He took a few minutes to breathe deeply, just staring at her. He raised his wand and muttered something in a sort of hushed whisper.
All of the peace and relaxation that the curse had given her washed away. The gentle caress of the spell was soon replaced with a feeling of dread and utter sickness. Panic was rising within her and she had difficulty choking back her cries.
"You are safe, Miss Granger." Snape leaned forward a bit but Hermione clamored backwards, further away from him.
"Don't touch me." Her eyes were wild, unfocused. Images of the evening flashed before her. It was surreal, replaying things she knew she had seen, but this time, the emotional analgesic nature of the visions wasn't there. She felt everything.
The complete distress she felt when she saw Voldemort for the first time made her tremble. She was so afraid he'd use Legilimency on her, to discover that she didn't truly belong to Snape, that she'd never bow down to Voldemort himself.
Although she did, didn't she? Snape saw to that. She had knelt and kissed his robes and then sat between Snape's legs like a fuckign lap dog! How completely humiliating to objectify her like that. And in front of everyone! Ginny had seen her like that! George, Seamus, Dean, Hannah, Cho.
But that wasn't all they saw, was it? Her mind was taunting her now.
"Oh Gods," she leaned over the sofa and emptied her stomach, which thankfully, was almost empty. She saw out of the corner of her eye Snape start to move but she held up her hand, glaring at him. "Loo–," she cried, unable to string together a coherent thought.
"First door on the–"
She flew off the sofa, hands cupping her mouth as she tried to hold on long enough to get to the bathroom. Throwing herself on the floor and hugging the toilet, she wished for death as she continued to heave. She was crying now, throwing up always made her emotional for some reason and she found herself needing some sort of comfort.
She missed her mom. If her mom was here, she would rub her back and calm her down as only a mother knows how. At least she could sleep at night knowing her parents were safe, out touring the world without a single memory of their daughter.
It would kill them to know what had become of her. How could she possibly face anyone ever again? Snape had… had— and in front of everyone!
It was the curse, don't forget that. Even numb under the imperious, you still felt how horrible that pain was. Can you honestly tell yourself you wouldn't do everything in your power to stop the pain?
She didn't care. He still had to enjoy it to a certain extent in order to finish, right? And the things he said about breaking her! Was that true? Was this seriously all just a facade?
You know its not. Deep down… you know its not true. Give him a chance to explain–
She groaned, curling into a ball and resting on the cool tile floor. She was drenched in sweat, and the frigid tile did a lot to calm her mind, shocking her system.
She could do this. She could at least ask for answers, and this might be her only chance.
Summoning the courage that Ginny had, Hermione pulled herself off the floor, ran the sink to splash some water on her face, and opened the door.
She slowly made her way back to the sitting room. It was silent, except some shaking breathing and the crackling of the burning logs. She saw Snape, silhouetted by the glow of the fire, forearms atop the mantle. His face was buried between them, hiding his face from view.
"P-professor Snape?" Her voice was almost a whisper but she found she didn't have the strength or energy to speak any louder.
He stood up instantly, turning to face her. Hermione almost gasped at the broken man before her. He started to hunch over, arms wrapped protectively around his stomach like he was in pain.
The curse. It's not over yet… he's gonna–
"You're safe, Miss Granger." His voice was almost as soft as hers. She looked up at him, seeing the tears reflect in the light. He was crying, or had been. She shouldn't feel anything for the man. She should be glad he was in pain, suffering. He deserved it!
But did he? Wasn't he as much a victim as she was?
There was only one way to find out.
She walked back to the sofa and sat down. She was surprised to see he had cleaned away her mess, but then decided it was more out of necessity and not kindness. She sat down, tucking her legs beneath her while she waited for him to make the first move.
He walked towards her, the tension radiated off of him, but still, he raised his hands in surrender as he sat down on the far end of the sofa, plucking a large open-weave blanket that had been laying across the back and handed it to her.
"Thanks," she sniffed, quickly grabbing the soft material and draping it around herself. She had forgotten her current state of dress and was comforted by this simple act of modesty he was giving her..
"We should talk," he offered with a strained weariness. His body seemed ridgid, bent over on itself with his elbows resting on his knees, hands covering his face.
It must really be painful for him. But was he in pain physically or emotionally?
"Yes."
They sat together in almost complete silence, save for the fire and her sniffles. Finally, Hermione saw Snape move to stand, swaying a bit before wrapping an arm across his stomach again as he turned, walking up the stairs. She was about to go chase him down, to demand answers when he returned carrying a large, stone basin.
"A pensieve?" Her brows creased as she tried to understand why he brought her this.
"Sometimes it is easier to see, than to try to explain," he offered, still not looking at her as he made his way back around the sofa. He gently let go, allowing it to float in front of her.
"What–"
But he silenced her when he raised his want to his own head, pulling out memory after memory and dropping them into the shallow basin. When he was finished, he fell back onto the sofa, looking exhausted and pained. Hermione noticed that his forehead was a bit sweaty and his eyes looked a bit dazed. She wasn't sure how much longer the curse would remain quiet and was starting to grow leery. He gestured for her to lean forward but she didn't quite want to leave herself vulnerable around him.
"A-are you coming in with me?"
Snape's pinched expression did little to elevate her concerns. He cracked one eye open, having closed them and reclined his head against the back of the sofa. "I had assumed you would want to be alone."
"Well, yes… but…"
He groaned, doubling over once more. "Observe the memories, Granger. The curse— I can't…" he took a few minutes, breathing deeply. He pulled out his wand, pointing it directly at her. When she jumped, he scoffed, twirling it around with his fingers to hand it to her handle-first.
"Ward me in the room, Granger. Watch the memories and just leave me be. Don't open the door under any circumstance, do you understand?"
She nodded her head quickly, eyes as wide as saucers as she grabbed ahold of his wand. Hermione swore it almost purred in her hand. Truthfully, she was wary it would have been malicious, belonging to a dark wizard but… it almost recognized her. She fingered the handle, noticing it too, was marked with runes— just like her.
Snape rose from the sofa, ascended the stairs tenderly. He looked smaller somehow, almost docile. She waited to hear the door click before she walked up the stairs and cast the strongest wards she knew.
Feeling safe for the first time in almost a week, she fought back the urge to run. She did have a wand now… she could do whatever she wanted.
But Snape trusted her. Really trusted her, leaving her his wand. Taking a few deep breaths, she sat herself down, staring into the swirling water before plunging in, face first. As the water swirled around her, she felt herself falling into the very first memory.
/*
They were inside Malfoy Manor, some sort of Death Eater meeting was occurring. The long dining room table was completely full, packing everyone in tightly with Voldemort sitting arrogantly at the head, listening as each member took their turn speaking.
She noticed Snape, sitting at Voldemort's right hand, displaying a haughty sense of power as he looked down upon everyone else. But she could sense his fear again. He was terrified.
Hermione looked around, noticing the Malfoys— Lucius, Draco, and Narcissa all sat with their heads hung low and looking disheveled. Her eyes continued to scan until they stopped on Dolohov, at the same time Voldemort had called on him. She begged her heart to quiet enough to hear the man speak.
"I have completed the curse, my Lord. I think you'll be quite impressed."
Hermione could practically see the wizard pounding his own chest in pride. She failed to hold back the roll of her eyes. When Voldemort had asked how it worked, Hermione perked up. This was her chance to fully understand.
"It's a compulsion spell, my Lord. It can be cast on a single person, or multiple." Dolohov smirked, eyes dancing around the table to ensure everyone was paying attention. "The compulsion will grow stronger as it is ignored. It will begin to burn and cause cramping, but the longer one resists— it can escalate into unimaginable pain, followed by delirium, seizures and possibly even death. I haven't tested it enough yet. I'm still waiting for a test subject."
She didn't miss the way his eyes darted over to Snape. Her heart thrummed against her chest. Snape could possibly die from the pain?
"And the counter?" Voldemort questioned, smiling with his pointed teeth showing— it was a grotesque and horrifying image.
"Both parties must reach climax, my Lord, for the curse to go dormant. But it will be triggered by stress, good or bad, as I have linked it to an increase in heart rate."
Even Hermione had to admit it was a clever spell. She just would prefer to not be on the receiving end. She felt the memory fade and was instantly transported into the next one.
/*
Snape radiated fear once more as he stood in the Shrieking Shack, begging Voldemort to let him find Harry and present him to Voldemort once and for all.
"I regret this," whispered Voldemort before slashing the air with his wand. She saw the spray of blood as his arteries were slashed and the crimson fluid burst out. "Nagini… kill."
Hermione watched as Harry ran to Snape after Voldemort had left, eyes wild in fear. Silver whisps were escaping from his neck. It was odd, seeing this again. Now that she knew he lived, she could view the scene more objectively.
It was a miracle the man was alive. The blood was dark and flowing freely. Snape's legs twitched, face paling as his eyes started to glaze over. She watched as Harry hastily gathered the memories and ran off to Dumbledore's office, never to be seen again. She watched herself and Ron bow their heads in respect for a moment before they turned to leave.
After a few moments, Snape gasped, reanimating enough to search through the pockets of his cloak. He pulled out several potions and a bezoar, consuming all of them before leaning his head back against the wall.
Once more, she found the scene changing as she plunged into a new memory.
/*
They were in the dungeons. Snape was taunting everyone as he paced back and forth. She felt his emotions in this scene again. Curious, it seemed like Snape controlled when she could feel the memories or continue as a passive observer.
He was scanning to see who survived. His heart was pounding, anxiety rising. His eyes fell on Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and a few other adults she couldn't quite place. He seemed to relax then, relieved to see them alive.
He walked over to the cage she was in, and felt him stiffen. He was horrified when he saw her, she could feel it. His eyes glanced around, noting who all survived. But once again, his eyes fell upon her and she sensed his dread and self hatred.
Snape's inner thoughts dominated the memory causing her to gape at him, temporarily forgetting he couldn't actually see her. "Let's hope she's untouched."
Had he wanted her? Needed her for something? Was there a reason he asked for a virgin or was he grasping at straws?
Hermione didn't need to see what came next. She remembered it all too well.
The memory changed again.
/*
They were in the forest, he was dragging her behind him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
She could hear his thoughts again, which apparently were monosyllabic and apparently quite simple.
The memory shimmered a bit, fast forwarding to the part where he started carving into her.
"Make it real. Make it look as real as possible. You must save the girl."
The mantra repeated as he listened to the Dark Lord's speech. He was speaking Latin as he chanted out loud.
Once more, she heard the hissed words of Voldemort.
"...animas illas ligare…sanguis in sanguine…imperium completum…semper tenetur…"
"...to bind those souls...blood in blood...complete control...always held..."
She was meant to be fully controlled at all times. That's why tonight was so important. It was a test to see if the bond worked. She started to panic, realizing how close to death she had come, saved only by Snape's willingness to cast an unforgivable.
She watched as he started to carve into her. She tried her hardest to focus on the writing instead of the pain. She dug deep into the recesses of her mind, pulling up her ancient runes textbook, seeking out the characters.
"ᛇ." But it wasn't an S. It was the eihwaz symbol. It was meant to show strength, reliability, and trustworthiness.
"ᚺ." Hagalaz. A wrath of nature— uncontrollable forces. Is that how he saw himself? Or her? Were they, together, meant to be unstoppable?
"ᚢ." Honestly, she was mad at herself for not realizing sooner that this was the uruz symbol. It hardly passed for an English "A." It symbolized physical strength, slapped and untamed potential.
Hermione sniffled, heart clenching in her chest as she continued.
"ᚹ." Wunjo, to bring comfort and pleasure.
"ᚨ." Ansuz. Insight, communication, inspiration, true vision. Again, now that she knew, it wasn't even close to an E. What would he have said if she hadn't been fighting as strongly? He'd have no excuse as to why his name was spelled incorrectly.
/*
She was engulfed in the next memory. Snape had picked her up and carried her to his room. He was trembling so much that she thought he almost dropped her a few times. His face was stoic, but she could see the pain behind his eyes.
He carried her gently through the office. She remembered hearing whispers, but now she knew who they belonged to. It was the portraits… Dumbledore, Dilys Derwent, Ambrose Swott, Niamh Fitzgerald and more… all whispering and gasping. Snape glared at them all, silencing them with a single look as he strode into his chambers and kicked the door shut behind him.
She watched herself squirm and cry against his grip. She was so scared he was going to rape her again.
"Stop squirming, foolish girl."
She looked into his eyes. Yes, there was disgust there. But as he disappeared into the loo and vomited, she knew now that he was disgusted with himself.
She watched as he sat, back against the wall, cradling his knees and face buried between his hands and he cried. He looked like a broken child and it made her heart clench.
He sniffled, pulling himself up and started finding potions and healing supplies.
The hurt expression when she looked at him, fearful of his touch, churned her stomach. She watched him shove down his occlumency shields, yelling at her about bleeding on his bed.
For the first time, she was able to take a look at the potions he had given her. Yes, they were for healing and pain relief, but he had also slipped her a contraceptive.
Oh gods! How could she have forgotten the possibility of bearing a child!
Snape thought of everything.
/*
He was in his office. The portraits were yelling at him and he was furious.
"You know damned well we can't talk here. They'll be coming soon and I can guarantee there will be surveillance charms," he growled.
"Severus, you have to forgive yourself, my boy. You did what was for the better good."
Snape pinched his nose and growled, ears reddening as his ire grew. Hermione. Watched his hands slam down on the desk and yell.
"Headmaster! With all due respect, fuck the greater good. I just stole a girl's innocence. How am I to live with that? She is just a child—"
"She's old enough to make a decision, Severus. Just let her know—" the previous Headmistress was cut off mid sentence by another portrait.
"Her mind can't be trusted yet. He must protect his secrets, Dilys." Headmaster Black nodded towards Snape in Slytherin unity. Snape had nodded back, thankful for at least one person who understood.
Snape stood stiffly, walking around to sit at his desk, quickly pulling out parchment and a quill. "Someone is coming— silence."
"You can't tell her, my boy. She can not be trusted yet." Dumbledore mentioned one last time before feigning sleep as Dolohov entered the room.
/*
Hermione was across his desk. He kept digging his fingers into her arm. He was poking her eihwaz rune…
"Do you understand," he had said.
He was telling her directly! He was all but spelling out that he was trustworthy and reliable! How could she be so stupid!
This whole bloody time he was protecting her?! Tears streamed down her face as she watched the memories transform again and again.
Each time he had taken her, he had run to the loo to vomit. He'd destroy rooms, punch walls, and cry out behind strong silencing spells. Sometimes he would simply cry himself to sleep.
Poor man. He really was every bit a victim as her.
/*
The last memory swirled, taking her back to tonight. She swallowed back the bile as she watched the Death Eaters abuse her friends and those poor, "willing" women— Hermione still felt they were under some sort of curse to keep them there, or at least paid heavily. But that didn't make it consensual.
She turned, looking at herself kneeling before Snape. She remembered this was the part where he had not allowed her to hear what was being said.
"How is my potion coming, Severus?"
"I work endlessly, my Lord. I am making good progress but will have to forage for some more ingredients, with your permission."
Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. "Do what needs to be done."
/*
Hermione covered her face with her hands, not brave enough to watch Ginny's physical assault completely. She did, however, watch as Snape took off his cloak and covered her with it, calling for a House Elf to see her to safety.
/*
Snape was walking towards Luna now. Rowle seemed furious.
"Snape, no," He whispered. "She's mine…"
"It must look real, Thor. You know this." Snape hissed, his aura radiated a nervous energy, and Hermione could see how his hands were shaking.
"Alright. I'll cover the view."
"Come here, Rowle. You're going to want to watch this," Snape said loud enough for everyone to hear.
Hermione watched as Rowle moved to stand between Voldemort and Snape. Tears filled her eyes as she watched as Snape released his belt dropping his trousers so they rested on his thighs. He was already, for lack of a better word, prepared to…
Hermione didn't want to watch, she closed her eyes. But then she heard Luna's voice twinkle softly.
"Hello, Professor."
Snape's eyes shot open, terrified.
"Don't worry," she said, positioning herself so that Snape could lay atop her. "Thorfin says I can trust you. I know you won't hurt me," she whispered.
"Struggle, Miss Lovegood. We must be convincing."
"Okay, Professor." Luna nodded her head and started to cry, writhing beneath him and attempting to claw and strike him. It looked so convincing that had Hermione not seen that he never actually entered Luna, she'd think he really was raping her.
She didn't want to see anymore. She needed to thank him. To try to understand more.
/*
She pulled her head from the pensieve, tears flowing down her cheeks with such overwhelming emotions that she wasn't exactly sure how she felt. Snape had a plan and she was going to be a part of it. She needed retribution for her friends and most importantly, for herself.
Tossing her hair over her shoulder and grabbing ahold of Snape's wand, she ascended the stairs, determined to talk to the man who had saved her more times than she could count.
As she approached, she lowered the silencing charm, preparing to knock to warn him of her entrance. She was met with heart wrenching moans and thrashing noises, furniture being tossed about. He was yelling and screaming in agony.
How could she have forgotten the curse that quickly? What did Dolohov say? Unimaginable pain, delirium, and seizures? Merlin– he could even die!
She banged on his bedroom door, calling out to him.
"Professor?"
"Get out, Granger. Stay away." His barked demand turned into a howl of agony, bringing tears to her eyes. She had never heard anything like it.
"Professor, I'm going to come in now."
"Granger, I will fucking kill you if you come in. Leave, now!"
But she couldn't. She wouldn't. She held his wand, didn't she? That had to give her a fighting chance at least.
She raised his wand defensively, prepared to hex him with a body bind when she heard a loud thud and then… silence.
Acting quickly, she lowered the wards and pushed the door open. He was seizing! She ran to him, stomach in knots as she tried to remember what to do.
"Oh, Merlin. Professor! Professor, please… what do I do?"
She sank down onto the worn carpet, the fibers abrasive against her already bruised knees. She grabbed ahold of Snape by the belt and tugged his heavy body, rolling him onto his side. His limbs flailed, offering resistance to her smaller structure but with one final tug, she was able to get him into the appropriate position.
She looked around the room, making sure there wasn't anything sharp that could injure him and pushed any dangers aside.
He was frothing at the mouth, lips turning blue. "He can't breathe," she yelled to no one in particular. Hermione's hands flew to his cravat, ripping at the material and pulling open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Hermione had never been more thankful that she had studied multiple first aid books before she set off with her boys to live in the wild hunting horcruxes.
She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heartbeat. After all, It was never helpful to panic in an emergency. She quickly cast a tempus charm to monitor how long the seizure was lasting.
"It's okay, professor. I'm here.. just breathe… breathe for me. You're safe."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she kept looking at her tempus. Seizures weren't supposed to last this long… it was getting dangerous.
When Snape's eyes rolled in the back of his head and he started to groan, only then did she think of a possible treatment.
The curse. They'd… they'd have to— no, she'd have to.. too—
"Oh, Merlin."
She bit her lip and focused. Realizing this could very well be life or death,she reached for his trousers with trembling hands, undoing the buttons and watching as his appendage sprung out.
"Oh fuck it all," Hermione groaned.
You can do this. You have to. You have to save him.
She reached out and wrapped her hand around his length. Almost instantly, the tremors slowed, only slight contractures were happening now that the curse was being given attention.
She squeezed the base of him, watching as a clear fluid started leaking from the tip. She tilted her head, studying it for a moment before snapping herself out of it.
Focus, Granger. The man is dying and you're over here giving yourself an anatomy lesson.
She stroked him then, fully. Holding her breath as she watched as his foreskin covered the top completely, before being pushed back down on her downstroke.
Up and down. Up and down.
The repetitive motions didn't seem to be getting her anywhere, other than a few fluttered eyelids.
She tried to add a slight twist at the tip before her descent.
Yes. Yes, he seemed to like that very much.
His seizure had stopped completely, hips bucking against her hand automatically. She watched with morbid curiosity as his skin turned from red to an almost purplish color, his testicles rising as well.
He was getting close.
Hermione looked around. As silly as it sounded, she wanted to make sure they were, in fact, alone before she started her next task.
Confident in her solitude, Hermione slowly reached under the skirt of her dress, pulling aside her knickers and began to touch herself. She ran a finger through her folds, gasping in surprise when she noticed how sodden she was.
Was this truly arousing or was it the curse somehow?
She looked at his body, slightly curved in on itself and covered in sweat and tears. With his face almost relaxed now, she could see that he looked much younger. His long eyelashes curled at the end, pink lips, now receiving oxygen, parted as he panted, hips bucking into her fist as his body sought its own release.
Yes. There was something about Professor Snape that held her interest.
But now wasn't the time. She slid a finger inside her channel, followed quickly by a second one. She closed her eyes and focused on stroking herself and the wizard with the same force and pressure, building both of their pleasures. She willed herself to think of all the good things he had done in his life— for her. Protecting the stone, brewing the mandrake draught to wake her up from her petrification, literally throwing himself in front of a werewolf as he pulled her behind him.
The list went on and on. She focused on the way she thought it would feel to have his hands on her, if any of this would ever be consensual. Soon, almost too soon, she felt the tension in her stomach pull tight, threatening to release.
She put pressure on her clit with the heel of her hand, grinding against herself as she squeezed the wizard a little tighter and pumped a little harder.
Soon, she was crying out her release as Snape's was pulled from him. His body shuddered before finally resting. Hermione was breathing heavily, panting. She felt… powerful. Finally, she had the power, the control. It made her feel alive.
She looked down at her hand, still wrapped around Snape's softening member. The evidence of his orgasm covered her hand and she couldn't help but wonder…
She let go of him, looking around once more before bringing her hand to her lips. She let her tongue slip out to taste— just a bit… out of curiosity.
For research.
She did have a reputation to uphold…
"What do you think you're doing Miss Granger?"
Hermione jumped back, instantly pulling her dress back down and hiding her hands behind her back.
Oh shite.