When It Rains

All praise be the exalted Muse who has finally returned. A thousand pardons for any mistakes in spelling of names, places, etc. My beloved baby sister still has all of my books, leaving me with no reference. If anyone spots a mistake, please review me and let me know so that I can make the necessary changes. As usual Harry and company belong to the amazing Ms. Rowling...

Chapter 4

Home, Hermione thought. England. Gods, but it had been a long time since she’d stepped foot on these shores. Odd, that despite her former resolve to never do so again shend hnd herself marveling at the rightness of it all. The bustling sounds of London, so different from New York and at the same time eerily similar.

Check-in at the Ministry’s customs department had been blessedly brief, largely due to the clout Harry held as being the head of the Cross-Culture Crimes Unit. And for being, well, Harry Potter. Wands were weighed and measured and their names were recorded but the remaining security measures were overlooked in favor of Harry’s celebrity and the timely appearance of the Minister of Magic himself, Arthur Weasely.

Hermione found herself swept up into a fatherly bear hug. “Dear gods, Hermione, it’s good to see you,” Arthur said as he pulled back, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve gone and grown up, haven’t you?”

Laughing, she replied, “And look at you! Misuse of Muggle Artifacts to Minister of Magic? It’s fantastic. Ron told me all about your nomination last Christmas but I never congratulated you in person.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” he said, pausing when his eyes fell on Devlin. “Bless my soul. You can’t be...”

“I’m Devlin Granger, sir,” the boy said, extending a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person. Uncle Ron speaks very highly of you.”

“A pleasure indeed, Devlin. A pleasure indeed.”

An uncomfortable silence seemed to emerge out of nowhere and settled over the small group. Hermione shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

“Right then,” she said at last, breaking the quiet. “We need to be off.”

“Yes, yes,” the Minister agreed. “Don’t let me keep you. Harry will see you there safely.”

An hour later, Hermione, Devlin and Harry were seated on the Knight Bus as it barreled its way towards Hogsmeade at breakneck speeds. Shifting and swaying with the twists and turns of the transport, Hermione found herself being lulled into the past. Memories long held at bay filled her senses, bringing her heart into her throat. As the minutes ticked by, the moment grew steadily closer when she would have to disclose to her son the hurtful truth of his birth.

Some Sixteen Years Before.....

Fear, anger and hate churned in sto stomach as Hermione was forced roughly to her knees before Voldemort. What she had glimpsed of the room was cast largely in shadow but she could see that it was obviously a dungeon. Shackles hung from stone walls and an old fashion rack was tucked into a corner. Surprisingly though there were furnishings. Furnishings that were upholstered in rich velvets and leathers and the floor that she knelt upon was cold black stone. The only light was provided by torches which seemed ridiculo out out of place in such a lavishly appointed room. It was a dungeon for Merlin’s sake and it was decorated like a drawing room!

Fighting down the insane urge to laugh welling inside her, Hermione attempted to rise to her feet only to find herself shoved to the floor once again.

“On your knees where you belong, bitch!” Lucius Malfoy hissed grabbing a fist full of her hair. “You’ll learn your place tonight. I guarantee it.”

Images of Malfoy taunting her father in the moments before he died earlier that evening flooded her mind and with a feral cry, Hermione lunged forward, tackling the blond wizard to the ground. Her shoulder struck him hard in the groin stealing his breath. Momentarily dazed by the throbbing pain in his loins, Lucius was unable to stop her from straddling his thighs and punching him repeatedly in the face and chest.

“Die, you son of a bitch!” she screamed as she wrapped her hands around his throat and squeezed.

As the pain ebbed, Lucius’ breath began to come more easily and with little effort he pried her hands from his neck and tossed her from him. Hermione landed hard on her rear end but didn’t let the discomfort sway her from her purpose. Not caring who was watching or if she lived or died, her only goal was to see Lucius Malfoy die by her hands or by her wand.

She leapt at him a second timey buy but fell short of her target by the clearly spoken “Immobulous!” cast by the Dark Lord himself. Frozen in motion by the spell, her eyes darted to and fro seeking the voice which had prevented her from avenging her father’s murder. She found him easily as his lithe form rose from the wing-backed chair he’d been sitting in as she’d been shoved onto her knees before him just minutes before.

The sound of applause echoed in her ears as the powerful wizard approached her. “Such ferocity and killing instinct is wasted on a mudblood such as yourself but is no less entertaining,” he remarked. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lucius?”

Righting his robes and smoothing back his hair, Malfoy answered, “Your pleasure is my purpose, my lord.”

“Is it?” Voldemort asked in a harsh whisper. “Somehow, Lucius, I doubt that.”

Slowly, Voldemort circled Hermione’s immobilized form, eyeing her from head to toe. “So this is the infamous Hermione Granger. The brightest witch Hogwarts has seen in a century. Tell me, Miss Granger, what did you think of my little welcoming party this evening? Pity your father was unable to join us.”

“Fuck you,” she replied in a low, even tone then spat full in his face. “Kill me if you will. I’ll die with honor. Something you know nothing about.”

With deliberate slowness, the Dark Lord wiped the spittle from his cheek then turned and smeared it down her own. “Honor, Miss Granger? Surely you didn’t think I’d go to the trouble of bringing you hear just to kill you? No, my dear. I have something far more...entertaining in mind.”

Fear returned with a vengeance dilating her pupils and causing her breath to hitch but Hermione fought desperately against the panic that was threatening to overtake her. No matter what they did to her she must remain strong. She could not allow herself to betray Harry and the Order. Digging deep, she conjured memories that were insignificant. Quidditch matches. The Three Broomsticks. Potions homework. Focusing her thoughts on the Occlumency lessons Professor Dumbledore had insisted she take with Professor Snape, she guarded her mind against any attempted intrusion by Voldemort.

“Don’t bother shielding your mind, Miss Granger. You’ll only be wasting your time. I’m not interested in whatever pitiful secrets you might hold.” The Dark Lord stepped away from her and crossed the room to where his faithful Inner Circle of Death Eaters looked on. As he spoke, he stopped and welcomed each one in turn until he reached the last. Something unspoken transpired between Voldemort and this last, unidentified follower. Soing ing that had no need for words, a silent command and a silent acceptance of duty.

“I wonder, Miss Granger if the fool Dumbledore has told you of the Child of Anima Mundi?”

Hermione’s answer was a continued glare, filled with loathing.

“Ah,” Voldemort replied. “I can see that he has not. Allow me to enlighten you. The prophecy of the Child has been around for a millennia. It’s origins aren’t important. What is important is what this prophecy has foretold. A child, Hermione. You don’t mind if call you ‘Hermione’ do you?”

“Why waste time with pleasantries?” she quipped.

“Why, indeed?” he echoed then without warning slapped her hard across her face. “Before this night is through, Hermione, you’ll beg for death. So you may want to rethink your position on ‘wasting time with pleasantries’. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. The child.”

Her jaw burned and throbbed. Hermione found it difficult to concentrate on her enemy’s words due to the ringing of her ears. The force of his slap had nearly borne her to the floor once more. Straightening, she turned to face him again, her tongue snaking out to catch the blood that was trickling from her split lip.

“The prophecy foretold of a child who would be born from the union of Darkness and Light. From the union of pure blood with tainted. It said that he would hold the power of the elements and would be able to bend them to his will. It was also said that he would destroy the greatest evil of his time.”

“This is all really interesting but were you planning to get to the point sometime tonight?”

Second slap sent her reeling, this time knocking her to the floor where she landed painfully on her hands and knees. Squatting next to her, Voldemort gripped her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “You are the Light, Miss Granger and I can’t have you giving up your innocence and giving life to something that could very well destroy me.”

“So why not just kill me? Why tell me any of this at all?”

“Oh, I do plan to kill you. Never doubt that. The truth, Miss Granger is that you are a thorn in my side that needs to be cut out. You are the embodiment of everything I’ve fought so hard to destroy. A muggle-born witch who is undeserving of the power that has been denied to far too many pure-blooded witches and wizards. I don’t just want to kill you, my dear. I want to destroy you.”

“Do your worst, Riddle. You don’t scare me,” she said with false bravado as she pushed her way to her feet. Inside she was screaming, begging for her life, for the future she’d never have.

Deep, echoing laughter greeted her words. “No, Mudblood. Not my worst. I have something far better planned for you. Severus!” he barked. “I think Miss Granger needs to learn her place. Teach her.”

The solitary figure at the end of the row of Death Eaters stepped forward, striding purposefully towards the young woman standing in the center of the room. The walls around her mind faltered and Hermione felt them give way as Severus pushed his way into her thoughts.

If we live through this night, Miss Granger, I may just kill you myself, he said as he approached her. Do as I say. Do not argue.

Hermione gave an imperceptible nod and answered back inside her mind, I trust you sir.

You shouldn’t, he replied silently. Oh, and Miss Granger? I’m sorry.

For what ?, she started to ask but was stopped short by her potions professor’s fist connecting with her jaw. Her head snapped back and tears filled her eyes. She would have fallen had he not grabbed her roughly by the arm, holding her up.

“Beg,” he commanded. “Beg me for your life.”

“No,” she whimpered, shaking her head.

“Then beg me for your death,” he whispered seductively against her ear.
Sobbing, she shook her head again. Please don’t do this, she pleaded in her mind.

There’s no other way, came the reply. I have to break you. Or at the very least make him think I’ve broken you. And you know as well as I do what must now be done.

Severus dris tis tongue slowly across the shell of her ear and down her neck causing an involuntary shiver of revulsion. Hermione was determined not to show any emotion, give them no satisfaction but she could not stem the tears that flowed unchecked down her cheeks. Understanding dawned then. Professor Dumbledore had indeed told her of the prophecy. He’d assumed correctly that Voldemort would associate her with the Child of Anima Mundi and had prepared her for this eventuality. Her heart cried out against what she was about to allow to happen but her mind knew that it must come to pass. She had desperately hoped that this night would never have come to pass, that Harry would have killed the Dark Lord before...

“What you take, I freely give,” she whispered to him so low that Severus alone could hear her words and know their meaning.

A quietly murmured spell, a flick of his wrist and Hermione stood naked, exposed to the leering eyes of a room filled with depraved men. Shame washed over her as her hands tried in vain to hide her nudity.

Severus averted his eyes from the lush, young body before him focusing instead on the face of his master. “How would you have me take her? Your pleasure is my own, my lord.”

Chuckling, Voldemort replied, “Any way you wish, Snape, so long as I hear her scream.”

“Very well, my master. Her screams will fill your ears as is your wish.”

Make it good, Miss Granger, Severus ordered silently. Reaching inside the pocket of his robes, he withdrew a vial and saluted Voldemort with a self-derisive grin. “My apologies, my lord. I’m not quite as young as I used to be.”

Loud guffaws and hearty laughter echoed in the room as it was assumed by all that Severus was in need of an engorging potion to obtain an erection. After uncorking the tiny vial, he downed its contents then smashed his lips against Hermione’s, opening his mouth and allowing the potion to flow from his mouth to hers. She struggled, fighting to be free of his unwanted embrace. Seconds later they parted and she wiped a hand across her mouth in disgust for the potion was truly horrible to taste. Remembering her role in this charade, Hermione loosed one of her hands and struck her captor.

“Bastard,” she hissed then shook her hand which had ended up hitting his mask rather than his face. “I trusted you,” she said accusingly. “How could you?! How could you?!”

“Very easily, Miss Granger,” Severus replied as he removed his mask and tossed it to Lucius. Fisting one hand in her hair, he drug her to a table on the far side of the room and pressed her down upon it chest first.

“Now Severus,” Lucius drawled lazily. “If you’re going to have your fun, at least let the rest of us have ours as well.”

With a careless shrug of his shoulders, Snape yanked Hermione up by her hair causing her to yelp in distress. The table was moved to the center of the room and she found herself pushed down onto its cool, smooth surface once more. Her hips dug painfully into the table’s edge as his weight bore her down.

“Beg me to stop,” he demanded.

“What is it with you and begging?” she countered earing a solid blow to her temple.

Kicking her legs apart, Severus leaned into her, hard enough that she could feel his turgid length pressing against her core. Real fear began to overwhelm her. Could she really go through with this? Snape was about to rape her in full view of Voldemort and a room filled with Death Eaters. And she was going to allow it. True, she’d play her part and put up a good fight and for all intents and purposes he would in fact be raping her body. But she had given her permission and that permission was a crucial part of the prophecy that her maniacal captor had overlooked. Innocence freely given and freely taken.

“Fuck you,” she rasped, her words marred by the blood seeping from her mouth.

“With pleasure, Miss Granger,” he replied as he freed his length and rammed into her tight, resisting flesh. Hermione’s scream in that instant was genuine, so unprepared was she for the pain of his entry.

Leaning down over her as he thrust inside her body, Severus whispered, “What you give, I freely take.”

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut against the burning feeling his repeated strokes created. She tried to close her mind to the onslaught of his body pounding into her own but the pain would not be ignored. His fist tightened in her hair drawing her head and torso up towards him but she refused to cry out.

Scream, Hermione. You must scream. It’s what he wants. Do it, her professor’s voice urged her silently.

I can’t. I won’t. Please, Severus don’t make me, she pleaded.

You can, Hermione, he replied, his pace quickening as he neared his climax. Do it!

One of his hands found her throat and gave it a good squeeze as he slammed into her with ragged, urgent strokes. A choking sensation began to consume her and a high-pitched and unnatural scream rent the air leaving her gasping for breath. Severus came moments later, spilling his seed deep inside her body.

Hermione collapsed with a choked sob against the table top, her eyes screwed shut against the lustful gaze of the voyeuristic company. Freely given, she told him as she drifted from consciousness as the potion Severus had slipped to her took effect.

Freely taken, he answered to her prone form as he slid from her body. His member was glistening with the mixture of his semen and her blood as he stood before his master.

“Well done, Severus. You fucked the little bitch to death. You may see to yourself.”

“Thank you, my lord,” he replied humbly. “My lord...if I might ask a small favor?”

Intrigued, Voldemort waved his hand indicating that he should continue.

“This girl has been the bane of my existence for six years. Should you see fit to leave her in my custody, I’d welcome the opportunity to return her to her precious Potter.”

“Good fuck, was she?”

“Passable, my lord. This request is personal. Call it a grudge.”

Voldemort leaned back in his chair and studied his loyal servant carefully. A quick dash through the other man’s mind showed him the truth of Severus’ words. Yes, the hatred and loathing he found there for this slip of a girl was surprising.

“So she was the one?” the Dark Lord asked after an uncomfortably long silence.

“My lord?” Severus asked, uncertain of the question.

“This is the little chit who cost you your Order of Merlin.”

A muscle ticked in the potions master’s jaw as he nodded his head in affirmation.

“Very well then. Deposit her carcass at Dumbledore’s doorstep. Be sure that Potter is the one who finds her there.”

Voldemort apparated away then followed by his minions, save one. Lucius remained.

“Care for some company, old friend?” he asked Severus. “It’s always such a pleasure to watch you work.”

“As I told our master, Lucius, this is personal. I trust you can understand that?”

“Of course. Don’t be long. I’ve arranged a few more festivities tonight that are right up your alley.” The blond wizard disappeared up the stairs then and into his home, leaving Severus to his task there in the dungeons.

Aon aon as the door shut with a distinctive ‘click’ Hermione spoke. “Will he come back?” The potion had left her slightly groggy but she was determined to leave Malfoy’s dungeons as quickly as possible.

“No, he’ll leave me alone until morning. Dress yourself. We must hurry. We’ve only a little time before the portkey expires.”

“I’m ready,” she answered quickly as she walked slowly to his side. Her lower body was on fire and her ribs hurt so badly that it was difficult to breath.

“I think I may have a few broken ribs. Malfoy was rather forceful in his insistence that I accompany him here tonight.” Dizziness overwhelmed her causing her to stagger drunkenly. Reaching out for something, anything to steady her, she asked, “What was that potion you gave me?”

“Mortuus Somnus,” he replied, extending a hand to her. “It had to appear that I had in fact taken your life during our...coupling.”

Hermione winced slightly almost imperceptibly as she took his hand. “Oh,” she replied quietly.

Severus gently wrapped an arm around her waist as he palmed the paperclip he’d hidden inside the pocket of his robes. “I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Granger and for my part in it though I was not informed of the raid on your home tonight.”

“Under the circumstances, sir, I think it’s permissible for you to call me Hermione. And thank you.”

Whatever words each may have spoken next were lost in the whirling and gut-tugging intensity of the portkey’s activation. When the world righted itself again they found themselves at the school gates where Albus, Minerva and Poppy awaited them. Hermione was pulled away from Severus and ushered inside the castle leaving him behind to answer the many questions of the headmaster. It was several days before they saw each other again...


Hermione was jerked rudely into the present by the shouted words, “Next stop, Hogsmeade!”.