Redemption | By : chrmisha Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 10133 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
By Chrmisha
Summary: A heart wrenching fic about how tragic events in life can change a person. Hermione Granger suffers abuse at the hands of Lucius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy gets caught in the middle. Severus Snape struggles to save the Hermione he once knew and unwittingly falls in love with her.
A/N: This fic contains depictions of sexual and physical abuse. Although it is hard to read at times, it is generally a compassionate fic about the struggles people face in recovering from such events. And, it has a happy ending. Please be forewarned though.
Redemption : Chapter 1
Severus Snape woke early to the sound of pure bliss––silence. No students, no classes. He sighed and stretched languidly. Looking over at the clock, he frowned. One of the few things still required of the teachers that stayed over Christmas break was to attend the staff breakfast. He grumbled at Dumbledore’s attempts to encourage camaraderie amongst the staff. He’d just as soon take breakfast in his chambers––alone.
Since the war had ended, not a single student had stayed behind this break. In the past, students often stayed for their own protection, especially Muggleborns. It would be the first Christmas in three years that the wizarding world would truly be able to enjoy the holiday season without fear. He was glad of that for numerous reasons, not the least of which was he wouldn’t have to spend his winter break patrolling the halls.
As he entered the Great Hall that morning, he surveyed the backs of the other teachers already gathered. An eerie silence hung over the room.
“Who died?” he said sarcastically as he swept up to the table.
He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth at his callous remark when Hagrid wailed, Professor McGonagall buried her head in her hands, Professor Sprout sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes, and Dumbledore glared at him. Taking a deep breath, he took his seat at the table and waited for whatever the news was to descend upon his ears. He hadn’t realized he’d let down his guard until this very moment; up until two months ago, he dreaded the morning staff meeting, dreaded hearing the latest round of deaths and destruction. The atrocities had seemed endless. He hadn’t realized just how easily he’d let that fear and dread slip away until he looked into Dumbledore’s eyes and knew something terrible had happened.
Dumbledore cleared his throat before speaking. “A group of rogue Death Eaters attacked the Granger family. I’m afraid there were no survivors.”
Severus’s hands instinctively fisted, his eyes narrowing, his teeth clenching together. He slammed his fist on the table. “There was no group of rogue Death Eaters,” he growled. With all teary eyes turned to him, he looked at them coldly, anger in his eyes. “Someone was out for revenge.”
It was no secret that Hermione Granger, the brightest witch in Britain, had joined forces against Voldemort. It was no secret that her keen mind had given their side the advantage. Her superb fighting skills hadn’t gone unnoticed either. Truth be told, the war might not have been won without her.
“Do you know who might have done this?” Albus asked.
Severus went over the various Death Eaters in his mind. In the end, so many witches and wizards had joined the dark side that it was nearly impossible to tell who had lost the most, whose motives might have outweighed whose. Many of the Death Eaters had outraged family members wanting to avenge their imprisonment or death. Other Death Eaters had plead innocent, claiming to have been controlled by the Imperius curse; still they’d lost face in it all. “I have many suspicions.”
“Oh when will it all end?” Professor McGonagall lamented.
Severus closed his eyes. Would it ever end? Would he be next, the traitor that he was? He decided that wouldn’t be such a bad fate. His double-agent status had been revealed and he was both revered and hated for it. He had made more enemies than he could count. More than that, though, he’d been forced to do things he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He knew he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make up for those things, even though nothing he did now could even come close to making up for the lives that had been lost at his hand––innocent, unsuspecting souls caught in the crossfire.
***
The funeral was a somber event attended by witches, wizards, and Muggles alike. As Severus surveyed the crowd, he could not find a dry eye around, other than his own of course. He, Severus Snape, did not show emotion. It was a weakness he was loathe to give in to.
He swept through the crowds, ignoring their greetings, paid his respects, and left quickly. The Muggles seemed to have an odd tradition of burying bodies in the ground and then worshipping at a chunk of stone erected in the slain person’s memory. What use was that? Hermione Granger was dead, gone. Her spirit did not reside in a slab of hard, cold earth. He shook his head at the folly of it all.
He Apparated at the gates outside of a deserted Hogwarts. The Castle was empty this day, as all who would have been there were attending the funeral. He walked along the lake, the icy air slicing through his thick robes, chilling him to the bone. Still, the weather did not compare with the icy cavern stretching within him that was Hermione Granger.
He remembered when he first met her. She was a first year; proud, smart, over-confident, and a Muggleborn no less. She had all the answers and was more than eager to let everyone know it. Insufferable, know-it-all he had called her on more than one occasion. And a Gryffindor to boot. Still, as time went on and she matured, he began to appreciate her intelligence, her wit, her sheer strength of character. She was determined, loyal to a fault, and not to be swayed in her opinions. He laughed now at her silly campaign to free the house elves. At the time, she’d been a thorn in his side. But now? Now he actually missed the girl. Woman, he corrected himself. When had she become a woman?
It must have been her seventh year, he thought. She was Head Girl and, not one to shy away from responsibility or a good cause, she’d immediately joined The Order as soon as she’d come of age, seventeen in the wizarding world. At first, he was uncomfortable with having students in The Order. But soon her value to the group of witches and wizards became invaluable. Her book knowledge was outweighed only by her keen observational abilities and her good instincts. The Order began to rely on her more and more for her opinions and thoughts. And in the end, this had been the right decision, as her instincts had been what made the difference between winning and losing the war.
He shook his head at the irony of it all. He’d never had a relationship with the woman. Truth be told, he barely knew anything about her beyond her attendance at Hogwarts and her membership in The Order. The last he’d heard, she was attending some wizarding university in England after graduating with top honors from Hogwarts. So what difference did it make to him that another innocent soul was lost? Even if that innocent soul happened to be a star in the wizarding world? The only relationship they’d shared was one of cold indifference. He was so busy protecting his image and keeping his distance from everyone that he hadn’t bothered to tell her how much he’d come to respect her, how valuable her assistance had been to the cause. In retrospect, his accomplishments in the war seemed to pale in comparison to hers.
Taking a deep breath, he looked out over the lake. “Good-bye Miss Granger. You will be missed.” With that, he pulled his wool robes around him and swept back inside the castle. There was no use dwelling on things that could not be changed.
***
Severus relaxed in his study with a glass of brandy. He was reviewing his potions notebook, deciding how to order the various experiments he hoped to accomplish over the summer. School had let out two weeks ago, and he was rather enjoying the time to himself. Most of the teachers took vacations at the end of the school year. Only a handful of staff were left on the grounds, namely himself, Hagrid, and Filch. There were no staff breakfasts to attend to and he could spend his time as he wished.
He rubbed his temples, mentally indexing the things he’d accomplished over the last two weeks. Madam Pomfrey would be returning tomorrow and he had completed the list of potions she’d requested to restock her medical supply cabinet. Dumbledore would be back tomorrow as well. He would once again be expected for breakfast he thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. Just because Dumbledore seemed to require constant company did not mean that Severus Snape did. He sighed knowing that his desires made no difference, Albus would not let him off so easily. As it was, the headmaster constantly reminded Severus that Severus himself was indeed human and that all humans required social contact. Severus drained the glass of brandy and headed to bed. The old man would never change.
He was awakened in the middle of the night by a bright red light spinning wildly around his room accompanied by a high-pitched whirring sound. He looked over at the offending sphere vibrating violently on his night table. Sitting up quickly, he pulled his robes over his nightshirt. Not only had someone broken the wards on his private potions room, they’d also gained access to his private potions cabinet. There were not many witches or wizards smart enough to have gotten through his wards. A rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins as the possibilities played in his mind. With barely any school staff on site and no students, it had to be an outsider. A very determined outsider, no doubt with a nefarious purpose. Rogue Death Eaters came to mind.
He slipped into the corridor and silently closed the gap between his private rooms and his potions storeroom, his wand at the ready. Standing in the shadows of the doorway, he observed the person rummaging through his most guarded potions. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the moon filtering in through the window, he could make out the slight form of a witch or wizard. He heard the person mutter something under their breath. Definitely female, he catalogued. The robes she wore hung on her in such a way that made him think she might have filled them out more at one time. It wasn’t until the light at the end of her wand briefly lit her face that his heart slammed into his throat. He grasped the doorframe, willing his knees not to buckle. He held his breath, forcing the gasp that wanted to escape back down. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be.
He blinked repeatedly, sure that his mind was playing tricks on him. He expected the image in front of him to compose itself into who it really was just as soon as his sleepy brain registered. But he wasn’t sleepy, he was wide awake, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He lowered his wand, willing his shallow breaths to become more even and less erratic. He watched in awe as her trembling hand held various potions to the light at the end of her wand as she read their labels. She was not aware of his presence, of that he was sure.
He could feel the fear and tension emanating off of her body. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she hadn’t found it yet. He waited until she set the potion down before speaking, knowing that his presence would startle her and that dropping some of the potions in that cabinet could be fatal for them both.
“Miss Granger,” he growled, “May I help you?” He half expected the witch in front of him to turn and be someone else, anyone else. Hermione Granger was dead, he reminded himself.
Instead, her eyes widened in abject terror as she screamed and threw herself back against the nearest wall. He cringed as her head slammed hard against the concrete, her body crumpling to the floor.
“Miss Granger, are you all right?” he asked as he quickly approached her.
She rubbed the back of her head. “I–– I think so.”
“What are you doing here?” His voice was colder and more clipped than he had intended.
He watched as her body stiffened. In an instant she had grabbed her wand, pointing it directly at his chest, her eyes wild. “Get away from me, you bastard! I’ll kill you! I swear I will! Never again!”
Severus instinctively grabbed her wrist, pointing her wand away from him.
“DON’T TOUCH ME! GET OFF ME! I HATE YOU!”
“Miss Granger!” Severus hissed, his voice thick with exasperation as confusion overwhelmed his senses. What on earth was wrong with her?
“Get a hold of yourself!” He had switched to his professor voice again, and at that, her struggles increased. She pushed him away, screaming and cursing at him as she struggled to her feet and tried to get away from him. He lunged at her from behind, wrapping his arms around her, trapping her arms at her side while she flailed and kicked and wailed.
“Miss Granger, Hermione, please,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice soft even as he longed to yell and scream back at her for her irrational behavior.
Finally, she slumped against him, her breathing ragged. As he relaxed his hold on her slightly, he was horrified to realize just how slight her frame had become. He could feel her ribs poking through her robes. He was brought back to the present by the pleading tone of her voice.
“Please, just kill me. Just get it over with. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t. Please. Just do it. I can’t live like this anymore. Just kill me…” her voice trailed off as her knees buckled and sobs racked her body.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, as he lowered the two of them to the floor, holding her securely against his chest. He watched as she tried to curl into the fetal position, her hands wrapped around her head as if she were going to be attacked.
“Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded. “I promise I’ll never do it again, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Severus’s mind raced. He had no idea what was wrong with her, but something obviously was. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.” His voice was soothing and gentle. “Do you know where you are?”
At that she stilled, and uncoiled from the ball she had wrapped herself into. She looked around the dimly moonlit room. He pulled out his wand to light the torches on the wall.
“NO!” She screamed. “Please don’t, Professor, I– I have a terrible headache and the light hurts my eyes. I’m sorry I broke into your rooms, I was trying to find a headache potion and Madam Pomfrey was all out. It was late, I didn’t want to wake you.”
Severus put his wand back in his pocket. “You were never a very good liar, Miss Granger. Why are you really here?” His voice was soft and silky in an effort to avoid another outburst on her part.
He felt Hermione’s breath hitch. She seemed to be slipping away again. “Safe, someplace safe, someplace he couldn’t––” She was shaking her head. “No, not again, never again…”
Hermione’s disjointed words echoed in his head. “Someplace who couldn’t do what?”
She buried her head in her hands. He barely heard her whispers. “Just kill me. Please, just kill me. I can’t live with this anymore.”
He clenched his jaw in frustration. She was obviously delirious. “Miss Granger, when is the last time you slept?”
“Slept?” she asked as if his voice brought her back to the present.
“Yes, slept, it is a simple question really.”
“Umm… I don’t know. Three or four nights ago maybe.” She stared off into the distance, muttering to herself, “Can’t sleep, no, he might, he might, no, I can’t sleep. I have to stay awake, it’s the only way…”
Severus sighed. No wonder she was so delirious. He shifted his weight to set her beside him. “I’m going to get you a sleeping potion so you can sleep. You will feel better in the morning, I assure you.”
“Sleeping potion,” she said, the words rolling around in her mind. “NO! I can’t sleep! He’ll come for me if I sleep!”
“Miss Granger,” Severus said, leaning over her now. “Who will come for you?”
“I can’t, I can’t…”
Severus stood up and rolled his eyes. “Stay her, child. I’ll be right back.” He didn’t take his eyes off of her as he made his way across the room to retrieve the sleeping potion. He used his wand to light the way. When he returned with the potion, he extinguished the light so as not to set her off again. As he brought the potion to her lips, she pushed it away.
“Please, I can’t, don’t make me do this.”
“Miss Granger, I promise I will keep you safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Promise?” Her voice sounded like that of a small child.
“Yes, I promise. Now drink.”
To his relief, she obeyed. In mere minutes, she drifted into a dreamless sleep. Sighing, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his rooms. Only then did he notice how light she was. Way too light for someone of her height. Maybe this was all a dream. She was dead he reminded himself. Surely in death one does not weigh what one weighed in life. And this certainly fit with a dream; the Hermione he knew would never act the way this dream persona was acting. Nothing made sense. Of course it was a dream. He shrugged his shoulders and made his way through his rooms with her limp body in his arms, resurrecting the wards on his private stores as he left.
He laid her carefully in his bed which was still unmade from when he’d abruptly left it an hour earlier. The dim light of an orange torch glowed on the far wall of his bedroom. He pushed her hair away from her face and made to unbutton her robe, figuring she’d be more comfortable sleeping in the T-shirt and jeans she was sure to be wearing underneath. He fumbled with the buttons and cursed his ineptness with such things. Using his wand, he turned up the light in the room so that he could see what he was doing.
He gasped at the sight that greeted him. Her face was gaunt and sallow, her cheeks sunken. Old, yellowing bruises marred her pale skin. Turning up the lights more, he studied her further. His mind reeled at the thoughts trying to invade it. No, no, it can’t be. He took a deep breath, willing his suspicions to be false as he quickly unbuttoned her robes and threw them aside. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her naked body glowed ominously under the light of his chambers. He closed his eyes at the sight of her, steadying himself against the wooden posters of his bed, willing the nausea washing over him to subside.
Swallowing the bile rising in his throat he opened his eyes. Bite marks and bruises trailed their way down her neck and chest. Ribs jutted out of her emaciated frame at odd angles. They had been broken and had since healed improperly. The bruises and bite marks trailed their way down her abdomen and up her inner thighs. A thin white scar ran from the hollow of her neck to the top of her pubic bone, with other thin white scars crisscrossing her belly and inner thighs. Gritting his teeth, and taking a deep breath, he carefully rolled her onto her side. He closed his eyes briefly at the sight before examining her. Aside from the bruises he expected, he saw something else. Red, raised ribbons of flesh slashed angrily across her back. Along with the telltale marks of a whip were the same thin scars––some white and older, some red and newer. Scars left from a very sharp blade, he knew. He gently laid her back and quickly covered her body with blankets before running for the bathroom.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, leaning over the sink, trying to even out his breathing and willing the nausea to pass. It was long enough to realize that the behavior he’d attributed to lack of sleep was anything but. His fists clenched in anger. He only had one question now: WHO? He would kill the bastard with his bare hands. As the image of her broken body played mercilessly over and over in his mind, he knew that she was not just abused once, but over and over. His mind raced back to her death. It was in December. But she hadn’t really died, had she? No, she’d be abducted and hidden away to suffer at the hands of some sadistic torturer. It was June now; six months later. Six months she’d suffered before she’d escaped. Damn! He slammed his fists down on the porcelain with such force he was surprised it hadn’t cracked. He ran his hands through his hair. She had suffered all that time and no one was looking for her because everyone thought she was dead.
He quickly wrote notes for Albus and Madam Pomfrey to come to his quarters as soon as they returned. Then he sat by her side. He knew she would not awaken for several hours due to the sleeping potion he gave her, but he couldn’t seem to leave her. She’d been forsaken at the hands of the wizarding world. He would never let that happen again. She’d given so much and she’d been forgotten. Not forgotten, exactly, more like lost, lost to a cruel fate.
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