Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

...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
- 39
- 40
- 41
AN: The vast majority of this chapter was written by Snowblind, who did an absolutely amazing job. She's brilliant and I love her to bits. She makes me a better writer and I hope you enjoy this thoroughly. Lord knows I did! More soon! Wrapping this up one chapter at a time. We're down to only 7 chapters remaing! SO CLOSE! xxx Lissa
Facing Demons
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Thank you for agreeing to this after such a long day, Hermione. We’ve arranged a line-up that includes the two men we captured yesterday at Miss Williams’ home as well as a few others. We need you to identify anyone from this grouping you can.” Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice was weary.
Hermione and Severus had floo’d to the Ministry first thing after getting some rest the night before to turn themselves in for Lucius Malfoy’s death. As expected, no charges were brought against them as the Ministry had wanted him dead or alive. However, they were held for questioning through much of the day. His new request made her apprehensive.
Hermione swallowed heavily, her heart thrumming in her chest. “I’ll do my best but, as you know, a charm was placed that prevents me from recognizing any of the faces of my captors.” In truth, Hermione realized how important this was – despite her desire to be anywhere other than here. However, when the Minister of Magic himself offers to personally escorts you to sub level eight of the Ministry…
Well, it’s not really something you can refuse.
Shacklebolt rubbed the back of his head, awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. This lineup isn’t of their faces, Hermione.”
Hermione stifled a surprised gasp and stepped lightly back into the firm chest of her husband, who was standing directly behind her. The silence was thick, having herself been rendered speechless, but then the resonant voice of her husband purred the words she couldn’t seem to say. “You are asking my wife to compare the genitalia of a line up of men? Have you lost your mind?”
Shacklebolt’s face grew stern, his tone slightly defensive. “It’s not just genitalia, Professor. Its body scars, tattoos and piercings…all of it. How else is she going to identify the men who tortured her?”
“Perhaps by their voices?” Severus replied with no small amount of condescension.
“Their voices were distorted, Severus. They used some sort of charm,” Hermione added quietly. “You know how unsure I was about Malfoy at first.” She glanced back over her shoulder and up into the eyes of the man whom she loved more than air itself. “As loathe as I am to the idea, the Minister is right. This is the best way.”
She looked back into the tired eyes of the man in front of her. “I can do it. Whatever you need me to.” Hermione held tremendous respect for the Minister. As busy as he was – and as important – he was personally accompanying her throughout this process. An Auror by trade, and her friend, he had told her in no uncertain terms that he would be the one assisting her today instead of someone she barely knew. He could not have known how much she appreciated him at this particular moment.
Shacklebolt nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Hermione.”
The Minister placed his hand on her shoulder. “If you’ll just follow me.”
When Snape began to follow as well, Hermione turned back towards him and spoke softly, but firmly. “Severus wait here.” Her caramel eyes peeked up at him as she added softly, “Please.”
Obsidian irises stared at her and Hermione expected his flat refusal at any second. She was surprised when his piercing gaze softened with the reflection of understanding. “Whatever you need, pet. I’ll be here waiting for you.” Hermione gave him a tremulous smile before she tilted up on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
After following Kingsley down two long hallways that were littered with guards and layers upon layers of wards, Hermione braced herself as she stepped into the dreaded cell with the Minister. Instantly, she felt a stab of illness in her gut and it took all her strength not to turn and run. The space had been set up as a replica of her room from her capture; from the cot, to the walls, to the dirty toilet and sink…even the shackles hanging from the ceiling. She choked back a groan of horror even as her body started shaking with fear.
The Minister swallowed, chastising himself for his carelessness. “I should have warned you, Hermione. In my haste to get you back here, I forgot to prepare you for the room you would be entering. I am very sorry.” He glanced around the room and then back at her. “We felt it would be…more conducive to proper identification if you could see the suspects in the same environment you were attacked.” He hesitated, watching her reaction. Her silent trembling only increased his guilt. “We based it on the description you provided, which was exceedingly detailed, I might add.” When she didn’t respond right away, he added softly. “We can move them to another, more generic room if you would prefer.”
After a moment, Hermione simply shook her head, finding herself at a loss for words. She looked to her left and inhaled deeply at the sight before her. Six naked and hooded men stood facing her, each with shackles on his wrists and ankles.
“I suggest we start over here and work our way down the line?” He posed the idea as a question, allowing her the control to proceed differently should she choose. As hard as this was, he was very understanding, and she appreciated his concern for her.
Hermione nodded somewhat reluctantly, following the tall and imposing former Auror to the wizard on the farthest left. She started at the man’s collar bones and slowly gazed down his chest, his arms and abdomen. She closed her eyes, attempting to strengthen her resolve. She could do this. She needed to do this. Opening them again, her focus traced dutifully from his navel to the sandy blond thatch of hair over his pubis. She knew instantly, but it was confirmed when she saw the serpent cock ring.
She looked up at her friend and nodded. “This one, yes. He – ”
Kingsley held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t say anymore. The acknowledgement is all we need for now. Let’s move on.”
The next man was short and stout with a rounded belly. Hermione studied him from neck to toe but found nothing she recognized. She shook her head at the Minister and moved on. It was becoming easier to look at them and she found herself feeling comfortably detached as the process became more and more clinical.
The wizard she approached next seemed familiar. He was tall with thick, dark chest hair and his legs were muscular. Steeling herself she stepped closer, closing her eyes and breathing deep. The smell of patchouli was strong, but the memory the pungent scent elicited was stronger. Long, strong, and dexterous fingers held her head, guiding her mouth over him, gagging her before pulling her hair roughly as he forced her ministrations to move under him, to the foulest of places. Hermione quickly stepped back, not wanting to, but finding the pull to look overbearing. A quick peek was all she needed. His familiar penis was clean shaven, long and thick. Swiftly turning away, she flinched when the man let out a dark, low chuckle. She closed her eyes and then nodded up at her friend, all the while trying to control her breathing.
She couldn’t believe this. The had caught them. The ones who…she swallowed with difficulty, trying to cut the panic that was rising in her throat...the ones who had tortured her worse than the others. The pair that had been so focused on making her body betray her over and over again. The two who had forced her to come apart at their ministrations, filling her with shame and a sense of betrayal for the man she had left behind. They had apprehended the ones that had tortured her so roughly with straps and canes, breaking her skin and spirit, before taking her sweetly – forcing her body over the precipice of pleasure over and over again.
She gagged silently before steeling herself to pull in a deep, calming breath. Only to grind her teeth when the patchouli man chuckled again, more loudly this time, as he sensed her discomfort.
They had caught Thing One and Thing Two.
Kingsley noticed her color pale, “Are you alright?”
She nodded swiftly. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” she responded, fully aware her voice sounded anything other than fine. “Let’s get this over with.”
The fourth suspect had a young man’s body. He was toned and angular, but not muscular. He had no body hair to speak of and he wasn’t very tall. He couldn’t be older than early twenties. From what Hermione could remember, the men who raped her seemed older, none of them younger than mid to late thirties.
They talked about things as they had their way with her; things such as plans for the evening, gifts that needed purchasing for a wife or a girlfriend. Things that were perfectly normal except for the fact they were raping her in the process. Their words to each other were occasionally interrupted with an expletive, “Fuck, that feels good!” or maybe an instruction for her. “That’s right. Take it all, sweetheart. Doesn’t that feel nice? A cock in your ass and your mouth on my prick?” Then their conversation would slip right back to something mundane, as though they weren’t buried balls deep within her. She knew they had done it on purpose to dehumanize her and to make sure she realized they felt she was less than nothing.
This time when she shook her head at Kingsley, her discomfort was gone, replaced by determination and no small amount of fury. This is your moment, Hermione. Show these men how wrong they were about you; not broken and weak but a fierce force who will not back down and cow away from the opportunity to see them rot in a jail cell for the rest of their miserable lives.
Moving on, Hermione was able to quickly determine the last two suspects were not familiar. It was only the two. The Minister looked down at her with warm eyes. “Thank you, Hermione. You gave us exactly what we needed. We’ll – ”
He was interrupted when Hermione softly said, “I would like to speak with them. Alone.”
Kingsley’s right eye brow shot up to his hairline in surprise. “What?”
“Alone.” Her gaze was sharp and her voice non-wavering. “I have some things I want to say to them. Things for their ears only; things they need to hear all the same.”
“Hermione, you can’t expect me to let you be alone with those two men.”
“Am I not safe here, Minister?” She looked around, her tone challenging. “Are the anti-violence and spell wards so weak down here that they could possibly lay a finger on me? If so, you have far greater problems than I realized.”
Shacklebolt sighed heavily. “You are impossible, you know that? You realize Severus will have my head on a pike if I allow this.”
“Since when does the Minister of Magic cower to the Potions Professor from a boarding school?” Hermione asked brazenly.
Shacklebolt stared at her with no small touch of irritation. “If you were anyone other than Hermione Granger, I would refuse you. However, as you are fully aware, I do not have it in my capacity to do so.” He took a breath. “They will remain in shackles, with their hoods on.”
“Hoods off,” she corrected.
“Why, Hermione? Why do you need to see their faces to say what you have to say?”
Hermione thought for a minute, her focus flickering from his left to his right iris and back again. “I need to place the body with the face. I just…I keep having dreams and visions of these faceless men as they attack me. I…I think it will be therapeutic for me if I can switch the mortal man’s face for the monsters in my dreams.” She looked at the floor. “I don’t expect you to understand.” After a pause, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to be walking down the street twenty years from now wondering if the man I just passed was one of my assailants. There were fourteen of them, Kingsley. Fourteen! The more I can piece together…the more faces I can place…”
Kingsley touched her shoulder, interrupting her gently with understanding. “Alright, Hermione. I can’t even fathom what you went through. I’ll grant you this, of course.” Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a coin and handed it to her. “It’s a portkey. You will land in my office if you use it.” He winked at her. “One of the perks of being Minister. I want you to keep it while you are alone with them. If at any time you need to leave quickly, simply rub both sides of the coin at the same time and you will be whisked away.”
Hermione smiled softly at him, taking the coin. “Thank you.”
A quick nod and Shacklebolt turned away, approaching the two Aurors who had been watching discreetly from their posts at the door. Kingsley whispered to them and they both shot worried glances towards Hermione. One of them began to speak, the rapidity of his lip movement and the spark in his eyes telling her the man was not pleased with the Minister’s directive. Shacklebolt quieted him with a few words and the Auror sighed, looking at his cohort in obvious frustration. The two men crossed the room, unshackling and escorting the four men Hermione did not identify away. Shacklebolt walked over to the two identified suspects, and with a nod from Hermione, pulled off their hoods.
Hermione stared. The men blinked rapidly, their eyes adjusting from the blackness to the light.
“I’ll just, uhh… I’ll be right outside the door… along with Mullings and Brackart.” The Minister opened the door and Hermione spotted the two Aurors standing outside with irritated glances into the room. Once the door was closed, Hermione looked back at her rapists. She thought the muscle behind her sternum was going to beat its way out of her chest and onto the floor, but that was on the inside. On the outside, she was the epitome of calm.
The blond-haired wizard to the left smirked at her, his cock twitching to attention. He looked down at himself in amusement. “Well, looks like you aren’t the only one who remembers.” He looked back up, all amusement gone. Instead his gaze was dark. “Miss us...sweetheart?”
Her mind clicked with recognition, vividly remembering the big burly man from the café on Tottenham Court Road right after she and the boys had Apparated away from Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Rowle.
Hermione suppressed a shudder as her focus shifted to the wizard on the right who let out another soft chuckle. His gravelly voice echoed throughout the room. “I hardly recognize you with clothes on.” He smiled lasciviously as he glanced down her form and then back up again. “Why don’t you take them off. We’ll play hide the sausage again. You liked that game, if my memory serves.” Hermione internally flinched. She remembered…vividly.
Of course, she recognized this man as well – from the Department of Mysteries in her fifth year. Dolohov. She glanced down his body and back up again, matching his face with many of her numerous assaults – mostly un conjuncture with Rowle.
Looking to the left, she saw Rowle’s eyes were still glittered lustfully. With a leer, he looked at her swollen belly. “Well, you can’t say we never gave you nothin’.” He glanced at Dolohov. “I wonder which of us pulled that off? Could be mine…could be yours… could be, well. No need to give our secrets away.”
Hermione’s hand reflexively went to her abdomen where she cradled her unborn child. “This child? This child growing inside of me? She is the result of love, not hate. She was conceived immediately after my release. You see, what you men didn’t know, and failed to realize, is that you didn’t break me. You didn’t own my mind or my heart or my will to live. You merely controlled and used my body for a limited amount of time.”
She stepped towards them. Still looking at Rowle, she continued. “I was able to remove myself mentally from what was happening to me physically. I maintained a clinical assessment of each assault. So…despite your little metal serpent which let you last for what seemed like hours,” she glanced at the cock ring, disdainfully, “it brings me quite a bit of pleasure to let you know you were the worst lay of them all, Thornfinn Rowle. Of course, I’m sure you already know that… don’t you? I mean honestly,” she rolled her eyes, “if you consistently have to ask, ‘Who’s the man?!’ as you are plundering away at some poor woman? Well… more than likely it isn’t you, right?”
His left eye twitched with barely concealed rage. “That wasn’t me, you little bitch. It was Nott…he fucking said that all the god-damned time.”
Hermione internally rejoiced at her small victory. Nott. Theo’s father.
Hermione played dumb. “Oh yeah, that’s right.” She smirked at him and teased, “You were the one who kept making me say over and over again,” she said the words with exaggerated exhaustion, “how big you were.” She shrugged lazily. “Kind of the same pathetic cry for undeserved praise if you ask me. Besides, I’ve had bigger – and much, much better.”
Dolohov’s rumbling laugh at his friend’s expense brought her attention his way. “And you. For Godric’s sake, learn what a bar of soap is! Coating on more layers of that disgusting oil doesn’t replace proper bathing. Did your mother teach you nothing?”
“As if I would bother with hygiene for the likes of you, Mudblood,” he spat, specks of spittle escaping his mouth. His eyes flickered to her chest. “How’s your scar?” he asked maliciously.
“It’s fine, thank you. It’s quite sensitive, you know. Severus does this thing with his tongue where… oh, never mind,” she tossed her hand flippantly. In truth, the scar across her chest left her skin numb and with little feeling, but Dolohov did not need to know that.
He looked at her with knowing eyes. “Hmm, didn’t seem so sensitive when I flicked my tongue along its length as I fucked you.”
Hermione didn’t hesitate. “Well, I guess it’s all about technique then.”
Dolohov grinned malevolently. “Tell me, does your professor know how much you like it when you get your ass tongued? Has he heard that little squeaking sound you make when your ass gets plundered by a large cock? Or how your eyes flutter when that demanding little clit of yours gets licked and nibbled while a charmed dildo plows into that cavernous pussy of yours?”
Hermione swallowed, her resolve threatening to crumble. She wouldn’t let them tear her down. This was her moment.
Sensing victory, Dolohov continued his relentless taunt. “You were so nice and tight the first time I fucked you. I guess it was inevitable, though. Fourteen of us, repeatedly… day in and day out, fucking every orifice. Shouldn’t be a surprise that by the time we dumped you, two cocks could fit into that pussy of yours at the same time with room for a third. That hardly seems pleasurable for your… husband. Of course, what was he going to do? Admit you are a lousy lay?”
Casting his cruel words to the back of her mind where they could be dealt with at a later time, Hermione cocked her head sideways, as though studying him. “You know, you seem to remember everything in very fine detail. I would almost say you are obsessed with my memory.”
Dolohov scoffed. “You were no more than an assignment. A chore. We were all glad to be rid of you.” His eyes darkened. “We should have killed you.” His eyes glazed over as though remembering. “I came close a couple times. Your neck is so small. Would have been so easy to…snap. Could have told her it was an accident.”
Her?
Dolohov immediately stiffened, obviously catching his own slip up. He cut a glance at Rowle, who met his with a reprimanding glare.
After a moment, Hermione realized she really didn’t have as much to say as she thought. She brushed her hands down her sides, “Well…” She looked from one to the other. “You are both going to Azkaban for life, if I have any say about it.” She turned to leave, but then stopped and peaked back over her shoulder. “While you’re there, rotting away in a cold, damp cell, I’ll be living my life. A happy life with a man who loves me and whom I love more than life itself. I’ll have children and they will have children and my blood will continue to weave its way through the fabric of the wizarding world. You accomplished nothing. Your abuse, hatred, and cruelty didn’t succeed in the quest to ruin my life.” She shrugged, “I just wanted you to know that.”
She did not try to disguise or contain the small smile that claimed her mouth as she left the room. She felt empowered and strong. It was a heady thing being able to turn the tables on the two men. She immediately approached the Minister and the two Aurors. “Alastair Nott,” she said simply before adding, “he was another one. I provoked Rowle into slipping the name.” Her face grew contemplative as she continued, “Think about any female’s who could be running the show. Dolohov let it slip he had wanted to kill me and could have told her it was an accident.”
The two Aurors, Mullings and Brackart, both could have caught flies with how far their jaws dropped at her provided intel.
Shacklebolt beamed at her. “Ahh, Hermione. You never fail to disappoint.” He turned to the two wide-eyed Aurors. “This is why I trust this witch, gentlemen.”
The adrenaline of the moment was starting to fade, and Kingsley realized that Hermione’s unearthly composure was starting to weaken. “Let us get you back to the Professor, Madam,” he suggested gently, offering his arm.
Hermione smiled gratefully, reaching for him to steady herself. “Gentlemen,” she nodded at the Aurors in farewell.
It was only moments later when she entered the meeting room she and Severus had spent most of the day in. Her husband was in a chair, leaning back up against a wall with his eyes closed. The second the door opened, however, he was on his feet. His eyes dark with worry as he took in her expression and body language. “You’re okay?”
His proximity and obvious concern for her let Hermione feel as if she could finally let go. Tears tumbled hotly down her cheeks even as she nodded. Unable to speak, she released Kingsley and met Severus part way when he reached out for her.
“She was incredible,” the Minister of Magic said, his voice husky with his pride. “Then again, this is Hermione Granger we’re talking about. When has she been anything but?”
Severus tucked the witch under his chin, holding her tightly as her hands twisted into the shirt at his back. “What’s all this, then?” he demanded, his heart leaping as a sob broke from his wife’s body.
“Mostly likely a cathartic release,” Kingsley answered. He went on to explain what happened as Severus held Hermione, gently moving his hand in her hair comfortingly as he listened with no small amount of pride. After Kingsley finished his explanation and answered a few questions from the professor, he discreetly took his leave to rummage up some dinner for the pair before he would send them home. Severus continued to comfort his witch while her body calmed from the adrenaline rush.
“You are incredible,” he murmured into her hair when silence fell after a time. And she was. She was the strongest, most incredible witch he had ever known. And she was his.
- 39
- 40
- 41
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

...After Happily Ever After