Trigger Warning: Hello my loves. This chapter contains graphic imagery and themes of sexual assault. There won't be too many of these in future chapters, but this story is about healing so these themes will continue to come up.
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And if this TW applies to you - I love you. I see you.
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May, 1998
Hermione stared at the unlocked door, she counted down in her head until she was quite sure all the Death Eaters had retired for the night; no one had checked on her for hours. It had to be at least midnight.
She raised her sore body off the ground, it was getting harder and harder to stand. She raised her hand to the bars and moved the door lightly to test how loud the hinge would be. Silent.
She swung the barred door open and stepped through. No wards, no jinxes, no curses. Clearly, they hadn't considered she would get out. They hadn't considered that Snape would- Honestly, what the fuck was that?
Later. She stilled; it was a different voice. She must be going insane.
She walked through the cellar, her feet freezing through her thin socks, but at least they were finally dry.
Hermione spotted a rack of water jugs in the far corner of the cellar. She ran to it and ripped the wax top off, chugging the cool liquid. She hadn't had any water since she'd got here. She sat, panting and drinking until she was on the verge of overdoing it. She put the jug back where it came from and looked around the room. Tables of junk lined the walls, farming equipment, boxes of clothing, framed art, rolled carpets, and old toys. She realized with grim amusement that those toys had probably belonged to Draco.
She couldn't imagine growing up in this house, Death Eaters walking in and out, brainwashed into hating people you know nothing about. No wonder Draco was so fucked up.
Her first thought was to find a weapon, but a cardboard box caught her eye, and she took a left through the cellar into what looked like a pantry. The box was dusty, but she could read its lettering through the layer of grime.
Dried Fruit.
Another one.
Oats.
Another.
Corned Beef.
She nearly lunged for the box, ripping off the lid and picking up a can. Luckily, it had one of those metal pull tab lids. She almost tore the lid off, but she wasn't even hungry. Her stomach had shrunk during her time in the forest, and even more so these past two days. She was still full from the stew.
No, best not to puke all over my cell and give myself away.
Still, she needed to make up her strength. Maybe she could hide food in her cell. She looked at the stones lining the wall around her and nodded. She'd need a tool, something strong.
Hermione picked through the tables of junk and began to search for something she could use to wiggle the stones, careful not to make a sound. In the farming equipment, she found a small knife. It was about 5 inches and rusty, but still very sharp.
She tiptoed back to her cell with her loot. Working her way around the room, she stuck the end of the knife into the gaps between the stones, carefully testing them for weaknesses. After a few dozen tries, one stone in the corner just off the floor wiggled under her efforts. She breathed a sigh of relief.
She dug her knife in farther and dug her fingernails into the sides of the stone, shimmying it until it came out of the wall. She caught it quickly on the way down so as not to draw attention.
There wasn't much room for food, but she managed to fit one small can of beef and a few small packages of dried fruit behind the stone. She wished she could have fit more, but this was all she could do for now. She replaced the stone and cleaned up the evidence of her act. The stone was sticking out of the wall, but she wasn't sure the death eaters would notice. She'd just be sure to stand in front of it when they came to check on her.
With her first worry out of the way, she refocused her attention on more weapons. The small knife in her back pocket would not cut it.
She picked through the junk until she recognized a long, curved blade. It was rusty as all hell, but she was pretty sure it was called a sickle. Farmers used them to cut wheat down during harvest season. It was a bit big for self-defense, so she put it down gently.
She turned back to look around the table when a movement in the corner caught her eye. She turned, and the blood ran from her face.
Behind her, staring her down, was the smiling face of Yaxley.
He didn't move, but she could feel his excitement, his magic, crackling around them. She could sense his predatory instinct, as surely as she knew she was prey.
No. Not Prey. She steeled herself. You are not an easy target. Make it more effort than it's worth.
"Naughty girl," he said, stepping closer to her. He took his time, clearly meaning to draw out her terror. It was working. "What are you doing up past curfew?"
Hermione backed up against the table, and Yaxley began rubbing his obvious arousal through his pants.
"I'm so glad we get some time to talk without prying eyes." Yaxley's blue eyes, pale and soulless, fixed on her breasts.
"You know," Hermione said as her hand subtly snaked beyond her, searching blindly for the handle of the sickle, "my eyes are up here."
He huffed and shot a glaring look up at her face, just as she swung the rusty tool down on his forehead.
"Arghh!" Yaxley roared as blood began to stream down his face.
A good hit, but the wooden handle, dry and old, broke off in a spray of splinter as it collided with Yaxley's forehead.
He was holding his hand to his wound, but slowly rising to his feet.
Shit. Not hard enough.
She shoved him to the ground and rushed for the staircase. She made it to the fifth step when she felt a tug on her ankle, Yaxley had sent a spell towards her and she slammed down on the stairs as though he had grabbed her ankle himself. Her face collided with the corner of a stair and she saw stars.
Her temple throbbed, the pain blinding her temporarily. She hesitated in her (likely) concussed state.
No, not is not the time to focus on pain. Just GO.
She crawled up the stairs and into the dark hallway, locking the door behind her. The hallways were dark; she needed to find an exit or a window.
She looked around wildly, she didn't know the layout of this house. She didn't even know which side of the house she was on.
She moved to check the nearby rooms for windows when the cellar door blasted out behind her. She whirled, Yaxley stood in the doorway, panting, his face red with anger, and with blood.
"I am going to fucking end you, Mudblood." He raised his wand.
Hermione ducked behind a statue as a curse blasted into the wall behind her. She took a chance and sprinted towards the end of the hall, but this time she was hit by a blinding strike of pain in her chest.
She lay on the ornate carpet breathless, the wind knocked out of her.
Agony, nothing like the Cruciatous curse. The closest thing to match it, she imagined, was being hit by a truck. She lay immobile, her body in complete shock.
Yaxley stepped over her, the blood from his face dripping onto her. "This could have been easy, Mudblood. I would have made it nice for you, you might have even enjoyed it. But now…" he nodded as if to encourage her, "...now you're going to suffer. Now I'm going to make it hurt."
He grabbed her by her hair. An involuntary scream escaped her as he yanked her to her feet. She fought wildly; her kicks and punches landed, but they didn't have any effect on the mountainous man dragging her into the nearest room off the hallway.
No.
She put the brakes on as hard she could, planting her feet, and pulling against the pain in her scalp, but it was no use; he lifted her off the ground and pulled her through the doorway.
No.
She grappled to hang on to the door frame, kicking at Yaxley, clawing her nails into the wood. He ripped Hermione off the doorframe and threw her down on the floor, shutting the door behind him.
She scrambled backward, away from him, but he lifted her like a toy and pinned her down on the wooden table near the empty fireplace.
He smiled as his hand came to her throat and he squeezed on her windpipe. She tugged and pulled at his fingers to release her. She clawed at his arms and his eyes, but nothing worked. She wished, futilely, for a wand.
"I could immobilize you, you know? But I like it when you struggle."
Her eyes watered as he loosened his grip to let her have a breath, only to close it again. And again. Not enough air before he closed it, not enough time to even exhale. He was playing with her. She began to see stars.
"I would have made you a deal..."
His voice floated in and out.
"...Some food, a blanket…"
She felt his hot breath next to her ear.
"...this was going to happen anyway. I was just coming downstairs to discuss that with you. But you have to admit, this is a bit more fun."
"You-" She gasped, "don't have to -"
"Shut up." He backhanded her across the face, she tasted blood. He grabbed the apex of her thighs with his rough hands. She cried out, a mixture of fear and rage and shame mixing in the air with his obvious delight.
He pressed down harder as if trying to rip through her pants with his fingers. He held her there and pulled out his wand.
He likes it when you scream. She clamped her mouth suit and focused on her breathing. It's just like the Cruciatus curse.
He pressed the tip of his wand to her breast, "Crucio!"
The pain was terrible, but she was ready. She made no noise as he sent waves of sharp pain through her chest.
Yaxley stopped, "I nearly forgot, you're Crucio-proof, right?"
Quick as lightning, she swung her arm forward, the small blade firm in her grip, and aimed for the side of his neck.
He dodged her blow easily, sending the knife clattering on the stone floor. He laughed, "Ooh, I was hoping you would do something like that."
He slammed his fist into her stomach, knocking the breath from her. She wheezed, gasping for air as her body shook.
"Are you frightened, little mudblood?"
Hermione said nothing but held his hateful eyes defiantly.
"So brave." He pulled out his wand and stepped closer to Hermione. She kicked out and landed a blow to Yaxley's crotch. He roared and punched her in the face. Agony shot through her nose; she felt more than a little blood collect in her mouth.
With a wave, her wrists and ankles were bound to the table. She fought and wrestled with the invisible ropes, refusing to just lie there and accept it. Maybe she could provoke him into beating her so she passed out, it would be better than-
"I've been waiting for this, you know." His voice dripped with excitement. "I live to hurt mudblood sluts. When we're done, you won't even know your own name." His manic eyes gave her the appearance of a starving wolf pleased to stumble upon a rabbit. Hermione tried to go into her mind.
Yaxley raised his wand, "Imperio."
Hermione's body instantly relaxed, her muscles stopped fighting. Her face and neck slackened.
"Oh, thats much better." He said. "Open your legs."
Hermione's legs snapped apart without her consent. She yanked her knees together, to no effect. She tried again, and again until her knees jerked awkwardly and she managed to hold them almost together. She tensed as best as she could under the heavy blanket of the spell, but it was just so much easier to give in. Her muscles all over were aching, straining from the effort of resisting.
He began to violate Hermione with her fingers, his chapped hands clamping down hard on the sensitive skin between her thighs. Hermion's eyes watered, but she remained silent. He moved his hands, gripping too hard and holding her firmly by her core. As he dug his rough fingers in, she couldn't hold back her scream, it ripped through her body and echoed in the room.
Yaxley's other hand went to her breast, groping her through the ripped shirt. He lifted the hem up past her breasts and raked his nails down Hermione's sensitive flesh, bloodying her even more. Hermione tried to focus on the pain in her chest, so she wouldn't have to focus on the humiliating agony in her core. She squeezed her eyes shut as he stroked and violated her.
It's not happening, it's not happening.
Yaxley came to the side of the table and pulled his erect penis out of his pants. He grabbed her face with both hands. She strained her neck to get her out of his grip, but he slapped her and pried her jaw open.
Through the adrenaline, the wheels in Hermione's mind were spinning. Save your energy for the opportune moment, she told herself.
"Open your mouth." His voice cut in. Her mouth slackened from the spell and Yaxley ran his thumb over her lower lip.
She didn't struggle.
He smiled, and slid his cock into her mouth.
Now.
She clamped her teeth down on him. Blood filled her mouth and he let out a sharp screech. Her victory was short-lived as he punched her in the eye socket, her head slammed into the wooden tabletop. "Mudblood bitch!"
Her ears rang, and she was sure she lost consciousness for a moment. But she had learned a valuable lesson. It seemed each of the Unforgivable curses had weaknesses. Since it took so much energy to defy the Imperious curse, one had to save their energy for the right opportunity.
Yaxley was in a rage, holding himself and roaring. "I'll fucking kill you, I'll fucking kill you."
He slashed her with a curse that sent a shock of electricity down her spine. She let out a blood-curdling scream. His pain fueled him as he slashed at her, over and over. He slowed as his arms grew tired, rage temporarily sated. Her vision blackened around the edges.
"Yaxley!" The sharp voice of Draco Malfoy entered the room. "That mudblood doesn't belong to you."
When had the door opened? She wondered dully.
"I caught her out of her cell-"
Draco's eyes widened at her exposed breasts and thighs but averted them, looking back to the tall death eater. The venom dripped from his voice. "Get the fuck out and I won't tell the others that you were physically bested by an unarmed mudblood."
Yaxley protested, "But she -"
"OUT! Or I will also tell the Dark Lord you have been sampling what does not belong to you."
Yaxley whipped his head to Hermione, "This isn't over, mudblood."
When he was gone, Draco didn't turn to look back at her but sighed and waved his wand.
A heartbeat later, she was lying on the cellar floor. She couldn't move. Her body was wrecked, and burns and lacerations from Yaxley's curses pulsed as her body worked overtime to compensate for the stress. She lost consciousness as soon as her eyes closed.
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Some hours later, a shadow entered the cell. She felt, rather than saw, the figure. A whisper later, her wounds stopped hurting; a healing spell.
She pretended to be asleep.
A warm sensation rippled through her body; a heating spell.
Light footsteps sounded away from her, and then paused. A sigh.
The stones underneath her softened suddenly; a cushioning charm.
The padding of feet towards the staircase and tapped up the stairs. She heard the doorknob turn.
"Thank you." Her voice came out quiet.
The door swung open and then closed again.
Hermione succumbed to the darkness once more.
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Sept 2001
Hermione woke in a sweat. Her cotton nightshirt clung to her wet skin. She rolled over and opened the window next to her bed to let a breeze in. The clock said 1:30 pm.
She groaned and sat up. It was not the way we wanted to start the first week of classes.
It had been a while since she'd relived the manor in her dreams. This one had been so lifelike.
She sat up, pulling her sticky shirt off of her chest and tossing it in the laundry. She cast a cleansing charm on her sheets and padded to the shower.
Hermione was no stranger to the 2 am shower. Sometimes, when her nightmares were particularly bad, she ran the water so hot that she hissed from the intensity, but it relieved her, to have something else to focus on. Some pain in her body to distract from the torment in her mind.
After the shaking in her chest had stopped, she turned off the water and got into clean pajamas and a dressing gown. She stuck some slippers on her feet and padded out of her quarters, not bothering to dry her hair.
She padded down the stairs leading down from the faculty tower and out into the main corridor. She had taken this path several times since she'd arrived weeks ago. It was only a five-minute walk to the base of the astronomy tower. When she got to the staircase, she walked up 13 steps, tapped the stone 13 times, and let the living staircase transport her to the top floor.
She exited out onto the landing. The stars were shining bright, the large brass telescope inviting her to take a peek at the cosmos.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of whisky she kept there for these occasions. She began to lift it to her lips when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a black figure sitting on the edge of the platform, not moving.
"Merlin, you scared me!" She whispered. "Sorry, Professor."
Severus didn't speak but inclined his head to her. The moonlight lit his face, casting his strong features in an eery glow. His heavy robes were unbuttoned at the top as if he had dressed hurriedly and walked out the door, just like she had. Her eyes lingered on his firm chest below his unbuttoned collar.
"I can…" She suddenly felt very awkward. "You came here to be alone. I can leave."
His clear voice filled her senses. "I came here to drink." He gestured his bottle towards her as if to say, "Cheers".
She smiled a small smile and toasted him from across the room. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Obviously." He drawled.
She took a swig, having no idea what to say next. She settled on saying nothing; she didn't want to scare him.
Instead, she walked to the edge of the platform and sat down, crossing her legs. She took drank another burning gulp and stared at the dark sky, the full expanse of the Milky Way above them.
"Nightmares?" He asked in a soft voice.
"Yeah." She didn't want to talk about the nightmares. "Sometimes I don't know why I'm still here."
"Everything looks the same but..." He trailed off.
Hermione knew what he meant. "The castle…It feels sad, doesn't it?"
"You noticed it too?" Snape tipped his bottle back, nodding; it was empty.
Hermione handed him hers. He took it and drank from the opening. He handed it back, his eyes pointed up to the sky. A silence settled in the air.
"Why did you come back, Miss Granger?"
"I think I wanted to prove they couldn't get rid of me." She shook her head. "They tried to tell me I didn't have a place here." She took another long drink, she would probably regret this tomorrow. "Well, fuck that."
"The other day in the library-" He hesitated, taking the bottle again.
Her face flushed. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."
He ignored her interruption. "You do belong here."
She said nothing, but a warm sensation filled her chest.
He took one last drink and handed her back the bottle. As she took it, their eyes met. For a brief moment, she was stuck in the depths of his warm, dark eyes.
He inclined his head to her, "Good night, Professor."
"Good night, Professor."
He stood and adjusted his heavy cloak, disappearing down the staircase. Hermione stared at the space where Snape had sat, her nightmare quite removed from her mind, and she pondered the swooping sensation in her belly.