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...After Happily Ever After	By : Lissa & snowblind12 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25739 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of these stories. This is just fun for me.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
AN: This chapter contains strong non-consensual sexual situations. It includes torture, mind control, cutting, vaginal rape, threesome, bondage, and suspension. Please do not read if any of these things will bother you.
This will be the only exclusive chapter of Hermione's capture because I'm actually having a bit of trouble stomaching it. I've grown awfully attached to my characters (well - JK's characters that I am revising) and it hurts to see her this way. There may be a few flash backs in later chapters, but I will warn at the beginning if there is. Please don't hate me too much.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ten Days Later - January 1999
Hermione pumped the cock in front of her with seemingly delighted fervor, alternating between using her hand and her mouth while the masked wizard above her groaned in enjoyment. Without looking closely at the witch, one would think she was having the time of her life. Upon further inspection, they would see the blank expression in her eyes and the jerkiness of her movements. The Imperius Curse was working at its finest. In the very back of Hermione's mind the words fight this tumbled over and over again. Finally, she won and her eyes slid back into focus. She sat back on her haunches and closed her mouth with a determined click of her teeth.
"She fought it again." The voice behind her was annoyed.
"I could care less, she's more fun when she's fighting us off, anyway."
"Last time I took her, she didn't fight." The first man sounded bored. "She's getting clever. We must be more so. Crucio!" She had expected this, but the screams came anyway. When the curse was lifted, she was laying on her side on the cold floor, curled into the fetal position, panting. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears just cascaded from underneath them.
"Perhaps it’s not cleverness. Perhaps we've broken our dirty toy. Should we teach her a lesson? What do you think, sweetheart? Do you need us to teach you a lesson?" The second voice was laced with cruel mirth and she couldn't suppress the shudder that spasmed down her spine.
She was hauled roughly to her feet. There was a muttered charm and her hands shot above her towards the ceiling. She groaned loudly as the forced movement stretched her damaged shoulder. The ribs that she was sure were cracked pulled and the pain was stifling. Her arms continued to rise until she was just barely on the tips of her toes. Her body immediately began to shake with the exertion of pain.
"What do you want, sweetheart? The tawse? The cane?" She didn't answer, just pressed her lips together tightly. Her bum and thighs were so broken, it wouldn't matter what they used. Both hurt too much, just different flavors of pain. She hated that she knew what they felt like.
"I like the tawse. Covers more ground and the slap is satisfying. You like it, too, don’t you sweetheart?"
She shuddered even as her arms started to go numb. She pushed herself out of her mind, seeking out her private refuge. She detached herself from her own body to endure their torture.
CRACK!
Two straps of thick, hot pain bloomed across one hip and pulled her from her seeking. It was getting harder and harder to distance herself from her tormentors. Her head fell forward with a groan of agony.
CRACK!
The other hip. Tears slipped unbidden down her face to drip off the point of her chin, she slumped against her restraints and another wail of agony rippled through her as the pull on her shoulders and battered torso screamed at her. She sought for her solace more urgently.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
One after another fell: across her battered bum, across her broken and bleeding thighs, flamed a new path across her low back. Nausea bloomed through her body as the agony became overwhelming, all encompassing, intolerable. She knew what people meant when they said “living nightmare” now. She was living in her own personal hell. There was a long pause and then hands were on her. This was worse. She would take the torture and the pain gladly over their touches.
Most of the men that had invaded her body and senses over the last ten days had been rough, mean, disgustingly nasty. They took their pleasure without worrying about hers. She was grateful for their callousness. Nothing damaged her more than gentle touches that enticed memories of Severus. Nothing broke her down further than men she didn't want coaxing climax after climax from her own body. These two were the best at it – or the worst – depending on perspective. The worst for her, it couldn’t get any more awful. She called them Thing One and Thing Two in her mind. She hadn't seen a single face outside of Malfoy that very first day. She knew if she survived this, those silver masks and distorted voices would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
She grunted as a palm grazed across a nipple, effectively erecting it, making it ache. No, no, no! The sobs began. Her control was lessening every day. They were doing exactly what was promised – breaking her. She was clinging to a ledge with only her finger tips.
"Stop." Her voice was no longer in her command. Another set of hands slid to the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, teasing it to a hard ball of need. She felt her womb quicken in traitorous betrayal. As the length of an erection press against her bum, the sobs came harder. She didn't know how much more violation she could take. A blindfold encircled her face and her cries broke in increased apprehension. This just meant they were going to use their mouths. It was even worse than gentle hands.
She wasn't wrong. After the biting lick of the double strapped tawse, their caresses were almost more unbearable. A hot mouth encircled one taught nipple as a heavy cock invaded her from behind. She groaned from the discomfort, her channel was exceeding sore and felt raw. One hand of the man behind her continued to tease her clit and she felt herself barreling towards an orgasm she didn't want. "Stop!" Her voice was scratchy and rough. "Don't come inside me," she begged. The men laughed. She knew there was no point in begging. There was no point in expressing anything, but in her heart, she knew when she was no longer talking, no longer fighting, she would be truly broken.
"We'll come anywhere we fucking please. You’re our dirty little sweetheart, aren’t you? You like us to come in your sopping pussy."
Another sob broke from her chest as she was forced to orgasm. The grunts and groans of pleasure from behind her signaled her rapist had also spilled his pleasure. Gods, no. No, no, no! The man in front of her released her bonds. As she had no feeling in her extremities, she flopped limply into his arms.
"Such a good little sweetheart, don't you think?"
"The best. Shame we'll have to return her soon."
"I think we've broken her in well."
"One more ride, my friend?"
"Don't mind if I do. How about you, sweetheart? One more ride for old times’ sake?"
He forced her onto her hands and knees and took her from behind. She couldn’t support herself on her arms, so she lay her upper body on the cold floor. Every thrust of him into her made the pain radiate throughout her body, charring her from the inside out. She forced her body into rigid indifference. He compelled two climaxes from her before ejaculating his disgusting self into her core. She had made no noises that time, she had even held in the gasps of pain. She did not struggle, merely remained completely impassive, as if she could care less what was happening to her. When he was through, he removed her blindfold and released her. She forced herself to her feet, and after a few false starts due to the crippling agony that was her own body, she crossed the small, cold cell to the cot she had been permitted. She rolled onto it and faced the wall, turning her back to them while wrapping her arms around herself tightly.
"I think there's only one thing left to do." She barely heard him.
"Just reopen that scar line by line, then Malfoy can complete her memory modification."
A small part of her mind twitched alarmingly. What scar…oh, NO! She whipped around, eyes wide with renewed horror. She forced herself into the far corner of the bed, curling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees. It was the only position in which she was fully obstructed from their ogling.
"Ah. Still with us then, sweetheart?"
She didn't look at either man.
"Grab her!"
She would have run if only there was somewhere to run.
She was forced to the cot on her back, her left forearm pulled roughly away from her body. She was sure she felt her wrist snap and white-hot pain shot through her fingers. She managed to keep the strangled sob at bay. A third man entered the room and helped hold her down as a silver knife, exactly like the one which had done this horrible act the first time, was produced. Then the agony started again as her Mudblood scar was opened fresh, more deeply than the first time. The blood poured down her arm, soaking the thin, paper-like sheet beneath her. Her screams were not human. By the time the "L" had been reached, she passed out. They weren't kind enough to continue without her, waiting for her to be conscious before starting again.
When it was done, they left her alone. She didn't move from her back. Tears ran freely down her temples into her ratted, unwashed hair. Her breath came in hiccupping gasps as she focused on the intense pain in her arm, focused on the steady drip of blood as it pooled, warm and sticky, around her extremity. It meant she was alive. For now.
Her legs were cocked at an odd angle. Her right arm rested lightly across her stomach. Her left, which burned with searing flames, lay out in the position they had held her down for the cutting. Her head was turned back to the wall, eyes staring – unseeing – as the rain continued to fall from her eyes.
"Well, my little Lioness." The silky tones of Lucius Malfoy curled through the room. She didn't even flinch. "Are you ready to go home?"
A surreal feeling of panic and peace slipped through her being, but she didn't move. "Stand, sweetheart. Now."
She didn't know if she could.
"I said now, filth!"
She tentatively rolled, sliding her feet to the floor. She had to use both hands to push herself off, which triggered a cascade of stings, pinches, and pulls all over her body. It felt as if she was being attacked by an entire beehive. Blood dripped along her wrist, running in rivulets across her palm and down finger tips where it beaded and dropped to make soft plopping noises on the floor beneath her. Once on her feet, the room pitched horrifically. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to push through the sickening haze.
"Look at me, Mudblood."
Her eyes met his. He raised his wand before speaking gently. "I've been working on a new memory charm. This one erases names and faces, but does not take your memories. You will be able to remember everything that has happened to you." Her shocked dismay must have shown on her face, because he chuckled. "You just won't be able to remember I was involved." With those words, he twirled and jabbed his wand, pointing it at her forehead, she flinched as if he intended to strike her. "Obliviate et facies nomina!" After a moment, she realized she was alone in the room. She looked around in confusion, wondering why she was standing in the middle of it.
The door creaked and a masked and cloaked and masked figure entered. "Stupefy!" She crumpled to the ground, mercifully unaware for the first time in ten days.
Six Days Prior
"Severus, this is utterly ridiculous," Minerva snapped. "You cannot hole yourself up in here for the rest of your life. Kingsley has requested your help. I have arranged Horace to take over your classes until she is found and you feel able to return. Go to the ministry. Find her!"
"She's dead, Minerva. There's nothing to find."
"Severus. She is not dead." The headmistress pursed her lips in frustration. "You must have faith in her strength. That girl loves you. She is counting on you!"
Startled dark eyes met bespectacled ones. "She's counting on me?
"Of course she is!"
For the first time in four days, a fire lit in Snape's belly. What was he doing? Wallowing in self-pity? Was he really doing this to himself while the witch he loved was most likely being tortured, hoping to be rescued?
He met Minerva's gaze again and the elderly witched nodded with a grim look of satisfaction on her face as she saw a fierce anger burn into being in the young man's eyes. "Go!"
Six days later, he was hopelessly beyond frustrated. It seemed no one knew anything. At the end of a very long day, he sat with two Weasley's, a Potter, and Miss Williams in his office, relaying news – or the lack there of – from his day at the ministry.
Lizzie Williams seemed oddly distracted, eyes full of fear and a faraway look. Miss Weasley had a hard look of determination on her face. Potter and Mr. Weasley looked as terrible as he felt. The aching devastation he carried in his gut was just shy of being debilitating. They all startled jerkily when the head of Kingsley Shacklebolt erupted in his fire grate.
"Miss Granger has been found." His rich, accented baritone was cool, clinical.
Snape felt his blood rush hot as both girls broke into sobs behind him. "Is she alive?" He barely whispered the sentence.
"Just barely." Came the reluctant reply. "She was taken to St. Mungo's post haste. Meet us there." He disappeared.
"You must return to your dormitories."
"Like hell, we will!" Potter and Williams snapped at the same time. Snape growled in frustration, reaching up to pull on his hair. "I cannot take you with this time. I must go alone." His gaze bore into Potter, begging him to understand.
After a moment, the boy nodded. "You will make arrangements for us to come in the morning?"
The man's shoulders slumped in relief. He had not been up for a fight. "I will, I swear." With those words, he scooped up a handful of floo powder and called out "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries" and was gone.
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...After Happily Ever After