In an Alternate Universe

Chapter 26 ~ Spinner's End

Severus and Hermione appeared in one of the most depressing, rubbish-strewn areas the young wizard had ever seen. It was night, but Severus had a feeling that even in the bright light of day, all would be colorless and dull.

Rows of close, dilapidated brick houses stood side by side, bordering the cobblestone street. They were small, disheveled; obviously the former abode of mill workers and extended back from the street in almost identical straight rows. Most of the sad little buildings were boarded up and abandoned. Bits of trash caught by the wind slid across the landscape as if alive and seeking shelter, places of rest. A tall chimney towered in the distance, moonlight causing it to stand out in relief against the dark, grayish sky. It was black and cold-looking, as if it hadn’t seen heat for many, many years.

A river ran along the other side of the street, bordered by a railing, a flat, thin path following its undulations, serving as a middle ground between the stinking waters and steep banks overgrown with weeds and splattered with garbage,.

Was this where the professor lived? No wonder she was so hard, so cold. How couldn’t she be surrounded by . . . by this? It was terrible, depressing and bleak

”Come on,” Hermione said weakly, still holding on to Severus for support and walking toward the end of the street.

A cat yowled then hissed, then a dog barked furiously, giving the impression that even the animals in this place were angry and sullen.

A breeze from the river lifted the couples’ hair as they walked slowly, Severus careful to keep a gentle hold on the injured witch. He noticed as he walked that most of the abandoned houses were attached . . . terraced with a small alley between them. And they also seemed to be connected to the homes behind them. Back-to-backs.

There was no front garden on any of the houses, they opened straight on to the pavement. The air was ripe with the smell of spoilage, organic, the decomposition of something that had once lived. They approached a house at the end of the row, the very last one. It too was tiny, but unlike the others, it wasn’t connected and had a bit of space around it. Beyond the house stretched dead barren earth, possibly a former building site, or with its slightly crater-like depression, maybe even a bomb-site.

Hermione pulled out her wand and murmured a complicated incantation, then opened the door. All was blackness inside and the air was close, stale and cloying. Severus could smell old leather as he stepped inside.

Hermione flicked her wand and a small candle lamp hung from the ceiling lit up casting a rather inadequate light. Severus blinked. They were in a very small sitting room, the walls covered in black and brown leather-bound books, a ratty sofa, armchair and table clustered beneath the flickering light.

Hermione lived in a “two-up-two-down” style home, which meant there were two rooms on two floors. She didn’t have indoor plumbing and used a communal lavatory when home, and got her water from a pump outside.

No wonder she stayed in the dungeons at Hogwarts. They were palatial compared to this cramped, sad dwelling.

“Help me to my chair,” she said to Severus, who eased her over to the armchair, eyeing the uncomfortable looking lumps in the cushion before helping her down. Why didn’t she move? This was awful.

Hermione looked up at him, the bruises on her face darkening now. She tried to smirk, but winced. She was stiffening up now.

“My ancestral home, courtesy of my Muggle father,” she said softly, “my mum married a real prince.”

Severus said nothing. Her father must not have been much of a provider to raise her in a place like this.

”All the grandeur has you at a loss for words, I see,” Hermione lisped, “well, don’t get comfortable. In the kitchen, you’ll find a large wooden tub with a bucket next to it. Take the bucket outside to the pump and use it to fill the tub.”

Severus’ large nose wrinkled. Surely she wasn’t going to actually bathe in the water that came from the grounds here? It had to be filthy, judging by the river’s scent. He looked at her hesitantly.

”Well, go,” Hermione groused, leaning her head back in the chair and closing her eyes. Her aches were coming back. She needed to treat herself.

Severus walked into the tiny kitchen. There was a gas stove, a tiny table, tinier cooler and cupboards. Pots hung on the wall. A large wooden tub sat beside a wall. He dragged it to the center of the floor and looked at the bucket before drawing his wand.

There was no way he was going to let the Professor soak in filth. He pointed his wand at the tub.

”Aquis,” he said softly, water shooting from the tip of his wand, slowly filling the tub.

In the sitting room, Hermione heard the sound of flowing water and grunted approvingly.

At least he wasn’t a complete idiot.

*********************************************

Half an hour later, Hermione was soaking in the tub, a mediciny smell filling the kitchen as the herbs and potions she had Severus add to the water did their work. Severus sat at the small kitchen table, his dark eyes resting on the witch, who appeared to have fallen asleep. His job was to keep the water warm and not let it cool or the ingredients would cease to work.

Her bruises were lightening however, and the swelling of her face was greatly reduced. Severus stared at her as her words came back to him.

”I’ve been through this before, Severus. Worse than this.”

The young wizard looked upon the witch of his desires, and got a very cold feeling inside. Hermione had been through this before, and by the cool way she handled it . . . without raging or falling apart, showed him she was used to being mistreated and abused by men, used to being used by them to slake their own desires without a thought as to how she felt.

He blinked at her . . . then the guilt set in.

He had used her too. No, he hadn’t beaten her, but he had forced her . . . it wasn’t planned but still she had been unwilling to engage him and did so under duress. For Severus, it had been the pursuit and fulfillment of a fantasy, but now . . . now it was something so much worse. Now he was manipulating her, wanting sexual favors if he proved his brewing techniques viable. He knew they worked and she had taken an Oath that she would “keep him company” if he were successful. He would be successful.

In essence, he was raping her too, only in a way that seemed more "acceptable." If it wasn't exactly rape, it was definitely coercion.

Gods, what had he done? What could he do to fix this? He had to fix this, to make it up to the witch in some way. He had been a cad, worse than a cad. He had used Hermione just as much as any other man she came into contact with.

Severus realized something else as well. She said she had been a celibate for years. But that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be if she were engaging in sex.

The wizard’s brow furrowed.

No. That wasn’t correct. She’d been forced to have sex, that wasn’t the same thing. She was celibate because she didn’t willingly take lovers or have a relationship with a man. If she had her choice, she wouldn’t have sex with anyone. And who could blame her?

And here he was, trying to force her into a short-term sexual relationship with him.

There was only one thing he could do. Release her from that portion of the oath. She wouldn’t have to sleep with him. He still wanted to talk with her and learn from her, but he didn’t want to force her into doing something she didn’t want to do.

Severus really was a Gryffindor at heart.

Then there was the matter of the man who had raped her.

Severus pointed his wand at the tub and heated the water around the witch. She didn’t stir. He placed his wand on the table, partially stood up and retrieved the blonde hairs from his pocket, studying them with a frown.

They were very long, like a witch’s hair. Could a witch have done this? No. He didn’t think so, though there were a number of rather aggressive lesbians at the school. But he doubted any one of them would go for the professor.

”What is that?” Hermione’s voice suddenly said.

Severus started, reflexively dropping his hand in an effort to hide what he had. Hermione’s eyes narrowed. She felt much better now, and better meant she was back to her snarky self, not that she ever stopped being snarky, even when in pain. She stuck her hand out, shaking the water off of it before turning it palm upward.

”Give it here, Mr. Snape,” she said, using her formal teacher voice and address.

Severus reluctantly handed Hermione the hairs.

”I found those in the bed. I was going to cast a spell to find out who they belong to,” he said softly, “then we’ll learn who did this and make him pay.”

Hermione stretched the long, blonde strands out, her jaw clenching.

”There’s no need for a spell, Severus,” she said darkly, “I already know who this hair belongs to. I know who raped me.”

Severus’ heart began to pound and his face contorted murderously at this bit of news.

”Who?” he hissed with such vehemence, Hermione’s amber eyes turned on him, her mouth quirking unpleasantly.

”Oh, don’t tell me you plan to avenge me? Dear gods, boy. That’s all I need, you running off and getting yourself killed because of this. The very idea is ludicrous,” she said to him disdainfully. “I swear, Gryffindors make my ass itch.”

“But . . . but you were raped! Beaten! Professor, if I hadn’t found you, you would have died! Whoever did this should be punished! Killed!” the wizard said angrily.

Hermione snorted.

”I wouldn’t have died. I would have just been in bad shape until I made it here,” Hermione told him. “It just so happened I had you to help me. It would have taken much longer without you to help me walk, fill the tub and retrieve the ingredients. But I would have survived . . .”

Here the witch’s voice dropped to a near whisper.

”I always do,” she said softly, her eyes becoming vulnerable for a moment.

Severus stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing.

”You mean, you aren’t going to do anything about this? Professor, that’s madness! You’ve been assaulted, violated. Someone has to pay. Tell me who did it!” Severus demanded.

”No,” she said calmly, “I won’t tell you, Severus. It doesn’t matter anyway. I doubt he comes back.”

”You can’t possibly know that. Whoever it was obviously Obliviated you! He could do it again if he gets the opportunity,” Severus said, his black eyes hard.

”He won’t,” Hermione said with certainty.

”I want to know who it is, professor,” the wizard insisted, “What he did to you is wrong! You sound like you . . . you deserve it or something. No one deserves that.”

Hermione looked at the young wizard consideringly. He was so passionate about everything. It was a bit annoying really.

“You know nothing about me, Severus Snape,” she said to him, “Nothing other than I was a spy for the Order, teach potions and have a tree on my back because of my service. You think what happened to me terrible? “

She let out a little bitter laugh.

”It was nothing. Nothing compared to what I’ve been through, things that I still remember, things I have nightmares about. It was one man, Severus, one man who took what he wanted then Obliviated me afterwards so I don’t have to remember the pain or the terror. In my case, that’s an outright act of mercy.”

Severus blinked at her. It was easy to see he still disagreed with the way she was handling this. Well, maybe some cold, hard facts would set him to rights.

“You have no idea what it was to be a Mudblood witch among the Death Eaters,” she said coldly, “I was often given as a reward to groups of men at a time . . . and after I was tortured, my torturer was given leave to do what he wanted to me. All Voldemort ever told them was 'Don’t kill her.' I could be raped, sodomized, beaten, kicked, cut, pissed upon, spit upon, covered in come . . . whatever they wanted to do to me, they’d do. Then I had to come back, take care of myself and give the Order what little information I gleaned before I returned to Voldemort again. I’ve seen more cocks than a chicken farmer . . .and it was all done for the 'Greater Good.' I became used to it, Severus. Pain, humiliation and agony was the whole of my life for a long, long time . . . now bitterness and resignation.”

Severus looked at her helplessly. Damn, what a horror her life had been . . .

”But . . . but . . .” he protested, but Hermione held up her hand and stopped him.

“What you have to see Severus, is that I‘ve only received a small dose of the past tonight, and I’m grateful for that because I know how much worse it could be. It makes no sense for you to want to charge in and try to right the wrongs done to me. There’s no way you can do it, Severus. Life goes on despite its unfairness. I’ve learned to live with it.”

”But you shouldn’t have to! You’re no longer in service to anyone! No one should be able to just . . . just use your body without you wanting them to . . .”

Hermione’s amber eyes rested on Severus coolly.

”Is that so, Severus?” she asked him in a mocking voice. “That’s quite humorous coming from you, considering our situation. “
Now Hermione was quite aware that Severus was nothing like the predators that she’d dealt with most of her adult life, but she couldn’t help tormenting the impressionable young wizard. Old habits are hard to break, and inside, she was miserable. As was said before, misery loves company.

Severus’ eyes became rather wet-looking.

”I . . . never meant to take advantage of you, professor,” he said, feeling nauseous. “I . . . I was just attracted to you . . . you were all I could think about. I just wanted . . .”

”I know what you wanted, and you got it didn’t you? Don’t begrudge my rapist who did the same,” she hissed cruelly. “And with you, it isn’t over. You still want more, my feelings be damned. At least he took what he wanted and left.”

It was as if she’d plunged a knife into the Gryffindor’s heart.

”I release you!” Severus gasped, tears starting to fall from his eyes, surprising the witch. “I release you from your Oath, Professor. You don’t have to let me touch you ever again! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Severus dropped his head, covering his face with his hand and sobbing.

Hermione stared at him as she felt the swirl of magic that signified the conditions of the Oath lifting.

”Oh good gods,” she sighed, slipping under the warm water surrounding her as Severus’ shoulders shuddered uncontrollably.

Now she had gone from having a randy Gryffindor occupying her rooms, to a contrite, morose and guilt-laden Gryffindor occupying her rooms . . .

. . . which was infinitely worse.

***************************************
A/N: Thanks for reading.