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Memories of Deception	By : professorflo Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 20868 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters within. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Memories of Deception
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9.
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-63
- 64-64
- 65-65
- 66-66
- 67-67
- 68-68
- 69-69
- 70-70
- 71-71
- 72-72
- 73-73
- 74-74
- 75-75
- 76-76
- 77-77
- 78-78
- 79-79
- 80-80
- 81-81
- 82-82
- 83-83
- 84-84
- 85-85
- 86-86
- 87-87
- 88-88
- 89-89
- 90-90
- 91-91
- 92-92
- 93-93
- 94-94
- 95-95
- 96-96
- 97-97
- 98-98
- 99-99
- 100-100
- 101-101
- 102-102
- 103-103
- 104-104
- 105-105
- 106-106
- 107-107
- 108-108
- 109-109
- 110-110
- 111-111
- 112-112
- 113-113
- 114-114
- 115-115
- 116-116
- 117-117
- 118-118
- 119-119
- 120-120
- 121-121
- 122-122
- 123-123
- 124-124
- 125-125
- 126-126
- 127-127
- 128-128
- 129-129
- 130-130
- 13
- 14
- 15
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thanks for the reviews everyone!

Hermione woke up, feeling strangely cold. Something had disturbed her but with her head still heavy from sleep she couldn't figure out. She rolled over in her comfortable bed, hugging the pillow, and starting to drift back into the dream she'd been pulled out of. Pillows?

With a gasp she sat up, realising suddenly where she was. Still naked, lying in Snape's large bed. The side where he had laid still retained a faint warmth, so she figured he must have recently left, and that was what had woken her.

Taking advantage of the fact that she was warm and comfortable for the first time since she had been captured, she snuggled back into the bed, pulling the blankets up tight around her neck while she thought.

A sense of confusion was growing as she contemplated the previous night's events. She dimly recalled the spell she had cast on Malfoy, sending him flying, and she felt shocked at her ability to perform such a horrible curse so effectively. The memory of the way Snape had caressed her, murmuring in her ear, as he somehow persuaded her Malfoy had been deserving of her anger, sent a shiver down her spine. It had been a very sensual experience, discounting his cruel words, and even now she felt herself responding to the thought of his hands on her.

That's where the confusion started. She had almost been raped by one man last night, and then actually had been later on, by the man who had rescued her. And now she was lying in his bed, getting turned on by the memory and wishing for more. What is wrong with me?

A few years ago she had read some psychology books that had spoken about the effects of rape and the condition of Stockholm Syndrome after she had found herself confused by a film she'd watched one summer at home. Even after reading it she had still found the idea of falling in love with your captor rather strange. Not that she'd had any real experience in affairs of the heart, but she was sure that she was not falling in love with Snape. But then why was she responding to him the way she was? Was there something twisted and wrong inside her that actually enjoyed being forced into sex?

On one level she had enjoyed the way he had touched her, when she knew she should have been feeling used and dirty. Why didn't I fight him? I should have tried harder to stop him, not matter how much he hurt me. She was under no illusion that she would have been able to stop him, even if she had had her wand, but she had given up without a fight, and that was most unlike her. She should have been furious about how he had taken advantage of her, yet she wasn't. There must be something wrong with me!

Even the thought of what Malfoy had nearly done to her only sent a shudder of repulsion through her, when by rights she should have been hysteric about the experience, especially considering that Bellatrix Lestrange had just finished carving up her arm. Hermione unconsciously started to rub it unconsciously.

The pain had been excruciating. Even the agony of Snape's Cruciatus curse could barely compare. She could feel the ridges of the semi-healed cuts under her fingers, and she lifted her arm to examine them. The wounds themselves were still red and angry, and after what Snape had said when he had tried to heal them, she wondered whether they would ever fade to white. Maybe there was a spell or potion that could help. If you ever get out of here that is.

The puffiness that had spread along her forearm around the damaged area had now gone. She traced her fingers over the letters, unsure quite how she felt about the branding. The word itself had stopped bothering her so much a while ago. It had usually been thrown at her by wizards for whose opinion she could care less for, such as Malfoy and other Slytherins. She was proud of being muggle born, her upbringing away from the magical world no hindrance to her achieving top marks and beating all those who had so distained her for her heritage.

However having the word permanently branded into her arm was another matter. The ugliness of it and the reaction of others was what was going to hurt her more in the long term. She had never felt particularly attractive, the lack of interest from her peer group had been slightly crushing, and now who was going to want to look at her with such an obvious, ugly scar?

A painful ache started to build behind her ribcage, some strong emotion that she couldn't identify. She wrapped her arms around her middle and held herself tightly. Why hadn't he stopped it? She had been given into his charge, she was his… pet…, his responsibility, and he had let Bellatrix hurt her so horribly, and had barely prevented Malfoy from raping her on the floor, as the blood still seeped from her arm.

She was suddenly and inexplicably furious. How dare he not take better care of her! She flung back the covers and jumped out of the bed. She paused to throw in the black robe that was draped over the back of a chair and stalked out of the room, hell bent on giving him a piece of her mind.

She slammed the door of his library open, correctly guessing she would find him in there. He was sat in his desk, quietly scratching away with a quill on a piece of parchment, and didn't seem to notice her dramatic entrance.

She had planned on screaming and shouting at him for his lack of care, for daring to touch her in the way he had, but his seeming indifference to her presence took the wind out of her sails, and as quickly as it had built, her un-natural anger began to drain away. She was left stuttering at him as her chest heaved and her hands shook with unreleased adrenaline.

"You… you…. "

He ignored her for a few minutes before eventually speaking. "I see you have finally decided to grace us with you presence," he sneered. "Why were you not ready to begin your tasks this morning?"

"What! You know full well where I was and wha…"

He turned his head and glared at her with such hostility that she took a step backward. "There is no excuse," he spat. "You should know what is required of you by now. Or do you need another lesson? Luckily for you, I usually take breakfast in the great hall on Mondays. It is necessary to put in an appearance on occasion to remind certain people just who is in charge here."

His voice was bitter as he said this, and she wondered why.

"I trust by now you know what needs to be done, or do you need me to teach you?"

Judging his temper to be fairly volatile this morning, she decided to err on the side of caution. "Yes, Master. I know what I need to do," she replied meekly.

Snape looked at her oddly for a moment before turning back to his work. "I will require lunch today, around one o'clock I think. I have no preference as to what you prepare." He waved a hand towards one of the armchairs that sat by the empty fireplace. "I have provided another dress for you, considering it was not completely your fault that the last one was destroyed. Take it and get out!"

She grabbed and fled, running quickly to her own bedroom where she flung herself on her bed and cried heartily. A while later, when she had nothing left in her, she turned over and stared up at the ceiling.

She had no memories of the previous months, and the last thing she could clearly remember was Bill and Fleur's wedding, although when she thought about it, there was a strange fragmentation to the memories. She knew it was a long time ago, yet it was her most recent memory, besides the last week at Hogwarts, and she found it hard to remember living without constant fear of punishment. Had it really been a week? It seemed like a lifetime… Wait… a week? It's Monday today?

Her brow furrowed, fingers tapping out the days of the week on her lips as she counted. That couldn't be right. She had been captured last Monday and brought to Hogwarts the same night. The next day she had tried to read Snape's notes and passed out. He had crucio'd her the next morning and the one following, the second time also searching through her memories. That should take her to Thursday. The horrible trip to Malfoy Manor should then have been on Friday evening, therefore it should now only be Saturday morning. How had she lost two whole day?

Hermione frowned, and started counting again. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it hadn't been Monday she'd been captured. How did she know that anyway, her memory had been wiped? Why was she so sure it had been last Monday? And hadn't she seen a calendar on Snape's desk that had said Wednesday. But that was on her first day here... So was she was only missing one day, or two?

She began to count again.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Memories of Deception