She woke up with a scream, a sob tearing out of her chest, her heart beating so painfully, she thought it might burst from the strain. Complete darkness enveloped everything—a total absence of light. Seized by panic, she attempted to sit up in bed, while her panic morphed to fear when she couldn't and only then she heard someone's voice.

"Hermione, it's okay, it's okay, you were having a nightmare…"

It was Ron, he was holding her now, trying to calm her down. She could see only faint features of him until he turned on the small light by his bed. Hermione's sobs were hiccups – she couldn't cry. Slowly but surely, she was calming down. Ron watched her, worry etched on his face.

"Did you remember something?" he asked.

She didn't know why he would think she could remember something. Her mind was darkness and nothing more. The intermittent pain was the only salvation from that utter emptiness.

"No…"

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yes, I think so…" she said, twisting herself from his grasp ignoring her cramping muscles.

"What did you dream about?"

"I don't know… I forgot already…"

She was sure she wasn't dreaming at all. It was that nothingness that frightened her.

He tried to reach for her, saying, "It's alright, you're here with me, no one will hurt you…"

But she flinched away from his touch. Fortunately, he didn't push on.

"Can we sleep now?" he asked.

"Yes…"

He lay back down, facing her. Two minutes later, she heard him snore.

She lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The darkness eventually took her as the sky outside started to slowly light up.

In the morning, Ron tried to help her get out of bed to get breakfast downstairs. Her body, however, refused to cooperate. Her legs were shaking, barely holding her up, there was no chance she could walk down the stairs without fainting. Her muscles tensed, eyebrows frowning with effort, but still she fell back on the bed.

"I think I'll stay here…" she said, giving up.

"I could carry you," Ron offered, leaning down to pick her up, but she reached out her hands defensively.

"No, no, there's no need! It's fine."

She didn't want to imagine how much pain being carried would cause.

"I'll bring you breakfast here then."

Hermione nodded.

After Ron left, she looked around the room. It looked like old people lived here, there were things so old they could be considered artefacts, except they weren't of much value. Glass vases, a teacup set, books released seventy years ago collecting dust on the shelves. She recognized some of the things, but not one thing in particular, rather all of it as a whole gave her an impression of recognition. She might've never been allowed in this room, but it looked like it could've been her grandparents' bedroom.

When she got too exhausted to sit, she slowly moved back to her spot in the bed. Ron brought her some porridge and a cup of tea. She tried to eat, but her hands were shaking, she couldn't hold the bowl or the spoon without spilling the porridge all over herself, so Ron had to feed her, he didn't mind. Hermione was the one annoyed.

"Ginny made this for you, your favorite," Ron said.

Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Ginny's here?"

"Yeah. Others from the Order are coming and going, but we live here, the five of us. Now you, too. Makes us six."

Hermione's was about to ask a question when the door opened, and Harry came in, surveying her from head to toe.

"How are you doing today, Hermione?" he asked.

She wondered what to say. If she was being honest, she would've told him that she wasn't feeling any better than yesterday. But she didn't want to shatter his hopes.

"A bit better," she lied.

"Good," Harry said. "I brought you some potion to lessen the pain. Take it after you've eaten."

Ron nodded for her.

"Everyone's excited to see you," Harry said.

"Everyone?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry, then at Ron.

"Ginny," Ron began.

"And my son, James," Harry said. "You probably don't remember him."

A feeling blossomed in Hermione's chest. No, it slithered up her spine like a snake.

There was something missing inside of her. Something crucial. She had lost it forever.

Grief began to cripple her, stemming from an unknown place. She couldn't shake it off.

"Your son?"

Harry smiled sympathetically. "Yes. He's four. You're his godmother."

Hermione's heart ached. She didn't know what to say, how to express the feelings yet. There were no words in her brain to describe it.

Ron turned to Harry. "Can't James see her now?"

Harry gave him a look. One she couldn't decipher. "We talked about it, Ron. Hermione needs to heal properly in a calm environment. Having a four-year-old around is not exactly calming, is it?"

"I would love to meet him," Hermione said quietly.

"Maybe tomorrow, Hermione, okay? Try to eat, drink the potion. I've asked Padma to come and see you. She will be here in a few hours. Now, I have things to do."

Harry left and Ron explained to her, "Padma's a healer, the best of her kind. She'll definitely know what to do about the pain. Maybe she will also help with the nightmares. Tell her everything that's wrong, okay?"

Hermione nodded.

Padma did come a few hours later, entering after knocking on the door. She looked older, that was to be expected, but it still struck Hermione how much everybody had changed. The last she remembered, they were all teenagers. Now everyone around her were adults.

Padma watched Hermione carefully, her eyes heavy with concern.

"Hello, Hermione," she said, walking towards the bed.

"Hi," Hermione said.

"Harry told me all about your condition. I came here to do a check-up on you. Is that okay?"

Hermione nodded.

Padma turned to Ron, giving him a less-than-merciful look. "Ron, would you mind leaving? I want this to be as comfortable for Hermione as it can be, giving the nasty nature of the procedure."

Ron's eyes widened. "What do you mean? I'm not in your way, she's my girlfriend, I have every right to be here."

Padma voice was steel. "Ron," she spoke with warning.

Ron sighed. "Okay, okay, I'll leave…"

Hermione found she was relieved he was gone.

"I'll need you to take off your clothes to see the physical damage first," Padma informed her.

Hermione felt helpless. "I don't think I can do it myself."

Gently, Padma helped to disrobe.

Hermione gasped when she saw her own body. The pain was horrible, but she hadn't thought it would look this bad.

Hermione's skin was littered with bruises, some were blue, most were purple, some had started turning green or yellow. It was strange that the bruises seemed so fresh having just spent seven months unmoving. It had to be something magic-related. There were hemorrhages on her hips, below her left breast. She took in her body, so badly abused it hurt to look. She even forgot the pain for a while, she was so shocked.

Padma, however, was a lot more composed. She touched the bruises tenderly, poked her wand at some of the worse injuries. Her fingers were cold, her touch firm but soft, clinical. She stopped when she reached a round scar in the middle of Hermione's sternum. Blinding pain knocked the air out of her lungs. It was a scar, but it still hurt.

The pain was a ghost.

A phantom.

"Was I stabbed?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking.

Padma was frowning. "It seems so."

She moved on to inspect the rest of the injuries and marks of abuse on her body saying no more on the matter. After fifteen minutes or so, she asked Hermione to lie down. She needed help even with that. When Hermione was finally down on her back, Padma continued the check-up. She motioned her wand to Hermione's stomach, and her insides lit up red. Half a second later, a harrowing fire caught light. Hermione screamed until her throat closed up, and Padma immediately retreated her wand.

The pain ceased.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, her voice barely audible.

Padma stared at her stomach. She put her hand there, and Hermione hissed.

"There seems to be a lot of damage done here."

Hermione was raped continuously for two years straight. Of course, there would be damage. But the pain was immeasurable.

"I want to heal it, but I see it hurts you very much," Padma said.

"I can take it."

She couldn't. The moment Padma touched her stomach with the tip of her wand, agony overtook every ounce of control she still had left. Unable to bear her screams, Padma stopped.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't help. Let's hope it heals on its own." She looked up at Hermione. "It's most likely because of the rape you've experienced, and the torture. Somebody really wanted you to suffer."

Hermione looked up at the ceiling. She would've cried if she could. She couldn't. There was a hole inside of her, an emptiness that no amount of healing could fill, she knew it. Although she didn't remember the rape, she knew it happened to her, and the knowledge of the act without the exact circumstances was perhaps even worse.

Padma helped Hermione put on her clothes back on, distracting her from the dark thoughts.

"How is it?" Hermione asked. "Will I heal?"

Padma's gaze was unreadable. "I'll wait for Harry to come back, then I'll tell you both what I think. Now I'll check your head, okay?"

Hermione nodded.

The tip of Padma's wand lit up and she touched Hermione's right temple softly with it.

"Did you get any new memories back? About the time in captivity?" Padma asked.

"No," Hermione said.

"No dreams?"

"No."

"No visions?"

"No. Nothing."

Padma circled Hermione's head with her wand a few more times, and on the fifth time, something happened. Hermione felt a tingling in her limbs. Her spine stretching back until her skull touched the bed. It was an out-of-body experience. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She could feel everything, she knew where she was, but she was somewhere else at the same time. There it was, right before her eyes – and it only lasted for a single moment, not a droplet more, a vision barely there, a hallucination, a dream – a mask resembling a skull, hands with leather gloves reaching for her… and then it was gone. Like smoke.

Like a phantom.

"Hermione? Hermione?!" she heard Padma shout.

Hermione gasped and came back to herself. Her whole body was shaking violently. Breathing so heavily her chest might've exploded.

Padma was holding her body close in case she lost conscious again.

"Did you remember something?" she asked.

For some reason, Hermione didn't want to tell her the truth. She promised herself she will tell Padma, but she didn't trust her fully yet. Hermione didn't know who she could trust at all. It was a gut feeling.

"No," she lied.

After all, that memory – or whatever it was – showed nothing in particular, nothing that would help identify anyone… It was a Death Eater's mask, so what? Of course, she remembered a Death Eater, she was surrounded by them almost every day during the war…

"Okay…" Padma breathed out. "You scared me there for a moment…"

Padma helped Hermione lie back down and tucked her in like a mother would.

"Was this a seizure?" Hermione asked.

"A seizure was about to start, but it didn't because I reacted quickly. But I need to let Harry know about it; someone needs to be by your side at all times in case you have full a seizure."

Hermione nodded, still deep in her thoughts about the vision she just had. Her body remembered the horror of it, physically recoiling even at the memory of it.

Padma left to fetch Harry and Hermione had three blessed minutes to herself, soured by the thought that now she will probably never have time to herself again. At least not in the near future.

Despite being surrounded by people and never truly alone, she still experienced a profound sense of emptiness. She was nothing. A husk of a person.

Harry came in, followed by Padma. He looked at her, concerned.

"Everything alright?"

"There's heavy head trauma and physical trauma on the body, but I do believe she should get all of her memories back in the upcoming months. What she needs is good food, lots of sleep, and as little stress as possible," Padma said, more to Harry than to her.

It won't be very easy to be stress-free amidst the war, Hermione thought but didn't voice those thoughts.

Harry gave Hermione a warm look. "Of course. We'll all try to take as best care of her as we can. Anything else?" he turned back to Padma. "Anything more we should look into?"

"Well, there is a high chance she will experience seizures. We almost had one just now, luckily, I was here. But in case it happens again, and, unfortunately, I believe it will, someone needs to be with her. An unsupervised seizure can lead to more physical trauma, a concussion, or a lost tongue."

Harry nodded seriously. "She won't be alone. Ron will desire nothing more than to be with her constantly.

"Good," Padma said. Then looked at Hermione, "I'll be coming back in a few days, to see if there's any change to your condition, okay?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Padma."

"I hope you're hungry. Ginny just made lunch, and Ron already poured a portion for you," Harry said.

Hermione tried to smile. "Okay."

They both left, leaving her alone for a total of thirteen seconds. Then Ron came in with a bowl of vegetable soup in his hand.

Hermione wanted to eat faster because it was embarrassing when Ron fed her. But she had to eat to get her strength back to be able to eat on her own. The soup was hot, she was frail and shaky, and Ron was slow, so it took half an hour to finish it.

"Are you sure you don't want to go downstairs?" Ron asked.

"No, I don't think so." She did want to get out of his room, she did want to see other people that weren't Ron and Harry, no matter how much she loved them, but the thought of going somewhere or being carried by someone and the pain that would cause, and what a sensory nightmare that would be – those thoughts made her stay put, in her bed, in the bedroom where her grandparents probably lived…

…and died.

"You must be tired… I'll let you sleep…" Ron said.

Merlin, she wanted anything but sleep. Anything but that darkness.

"No, uhm, I think I'd like to read something. Could you get me a book from that shelf?"

Ron stood up and walked to the bookshelf.

"Which one would you like?"

"Any will do."

Ron took out an old edition of Moby Dick and gave it to her.

To Hermione's horror, it took one minute of reading to understand it was out of the cards for her. Her head hurt, her vision blurred, she couldn't comprehend the words. Just another thing taken from her.

Was she even human anymore?

Fortunately, Ron was still here, not leaving her side, as Harry had probably instructed him.

"Ron, I don't think I can do it. Could you read it out loud for me?"

Ron agreed, and she gave him the book, trying to find a more comfortable position. Ron's voice was dull, and his reading was choppy, but soon he found his rhythm. It even felt like she was reading it herself after some time.

Yet still, she couldn't focus on the book. That face—that mask—that Phantom was all she could think about.