Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Turn On The Darkness	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 21044 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
A/N: If I labour on with apologies and explanations why this took forever to update, it'll be a 4,000 word chapter all by itself. :-p So here it is. Thank you all for your patience and persistance.

The spoon was a crude wooden carving at best; not so rough as to splinter against her lips as he pressed it against her mouth. It was difficult to refuse the warm broth hovering so close to her nose. She could not recall her last meal and her stomach was twisting in anguish. But if she let herself starve then at least it would be over. Hermione tilted her head to the side and stared at the wall, trying not to cry as her stomach growled in protest. It was unnatural to fight the pangs of hunger but she kept her gaze steady.

            She gasped and choked slightly as his hand clamped against her throat and forced her head to face him. Her arms were bound once more to the posts of the bed but she was sitting up, her back leaning against the meager headboard. When she had slipped into the darkness one hand had remained unbound but as she had rested he had managed to rebind it.

            “Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.” He said and presented the spoon to her once more.

            Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and then slowly parted her lips. It was warm, bland at best, as she slowly slurped the broth. Lifting her head just slightly she opened her eyes and stared at him. She pursed her lips and spit broth from her mouth.

            Severus’ face was splashed with the warm attempt at soup he had made for her. He sat the spoon down on the table beside the bed and stood from where he was perched at the edge of the worn mattress. Turning his back to her he withdrew a kerchief from his pocket and dabbed the broth from his cheeks. He disappeared into a room that Hermione could not see. There could be a whole house beyond the bed to which she was chained but so far she had only seen the dingy interior of the makeshift bathroom. He returned a moment later, the kerchief discarded, and perched once more on the edge of the bed.

            His wrist was quick as it shot forth and gripped her throat. Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she felt him tighten his grip. “You try my patience, girl,” he said, his voice hardly a whisper.

            With his other hand he picked up the bowl of broth from its place on the table. He slid his hand up her throat until he gripped her jaw. Severus began to squeeze his fingers tightly against her jawbone, pressing in harshly against her cheeks as he did. Pain seared through her face and tears began to drip from the outer corners of her eyes. Her lips parted and before she could attempt to force them closed he had pressed the bowl against her mouth.

            Hermione began to splutter as the broth flowed into her mouth. Fingers pressed roughly against her throat, massaging the muscles until she was forced to swallow. She hadn’t noticed that he’d released her jaw until he’d forced her to swallow the contents of the bowl. She coughed and cried spitting up into her lap as she did. He pushed his palm hard against her mouth forcing her to swallow once more. She hiccupped and coughed, whimpering against his palm, struggling against her bonds, her eyes puffy and red once more.

            It was several moments before her sobbing subsided and her hiccups settled into gentle sniffles. Severus slowly pulled his hand back from her mouth. He placed the empty bowl on the table beside the bed and then folded his hands into his lap.

            “Why?” she croaked, her voice broken and trembling.

            “You needed sustenance and I am not equipped to sustain you intravenously.” He said.

            Her throat burned, not from the broth but from retching and swallowing too much too quickly. Hermione closed her eyes tightly and tried to stop her tears as they trickled down the sides of her cheeks. “Please let me go,” she pleaded, but did not open her eyes.

            “There is nowhere to go, Granger,” he stated. “This is a secured safe house, unplotted and undetected.”

            “Untie me…” she whimpered.

            Severus said nothing as he continued to sit on the edge of the bed.

            “Please,” she begged.

            “To what end?” he said. “Releasing you from your bindings would only result in harm to either yourself or my person, perhaps both.”

            She leaned forward letting her head lull against her chest as she fought back the tears. Her chest heaved up and down as she tried to silent her sobs but to no avail. “Why won’t you just let me die?” she shrieked.

            For a long moment he stared at her, his eyes simply appraising her withered figure. Then he stood and moved slowly to the darkened doorway that led to the other room. She opened her eyes as she felt his weight leave the mattress. But as she opened them she felt a dizziness sweep over her. Her vision shook for a moment and she blinked her eyes several times trying to clear her line of sight from the blurriness.

            “No…” she whimpered. “You poisoned me…”

            “Hardly,” he said and glanced over his shoulder, stopping for a moment in the doorway.

            “You—you…”

            “You begged for no more injections,” he stated and then leaned his figure against the doorframe. “You need to live, Granger.” He said, but her head had lulled forward, her eyes closed, the drug having already taken effect.

            Whether it was the soft cracking sound splitting the air or the drugs finding their natural end that woke her, Hermione couldn’t be sure. But her eyelids fluttered open to darkness. A dim orange glow glinted from the side of the room and she turned her head. It was coming from the makeshift bathroom though the door was mostly closed. Again the soft cracking sound split the air, followed by silence. Her stomach was no longer growling in pain though the rest of her body still ached. As she flexed her fingers she jerked her head upward to gaze at her wrists. Somehow the cloth bonds that had tied her to the posts of the bed had come loose.

            She slowly lowered her arms to her side and closed her eyes. She was free. But his words echoed in her ears, To what end? Hermione took a moment to draw in a breath before she pulled her body up to a sitting position. Her muscles ached and her head swam with a whooshing sensation. She was weak, and even if she could somehow escape, it was unlikely that she would get very far. The cracking sound from the bathroom caught her attention as it broke the silence once more.

            Despite her aching body and spinning head, Hermione slowly pulled her legs over the edge of the bed and let her feet touch the floor. It was cold, made of rough wood, and her toes were bare as they scraped against the planks. Her legs trembled as she attempted to put her weight upon them. With her knees ready to buckle, she gripped the edge of the mattress and sunk down to her knees, lowering her body off the bed. She bit her lip as she felt the back of her legs sting; she had forgotten for a moment about the abhorrent butchery he had performed on her. Leaning her weight against the mattress she held her breath, struggling through the wave of pain until it subsided to a dull throbbing.

            With trembling fingers she tugged the sheet from the bed and spread it out on the floor in front of her. The room was filled with a flutter of fabric as the sheet settled against the floorboards. Her face froze. She hadn’t expected the sound. But the sound was replaced with the crack coming from the bathroom. Her lungs tingled and she slowly hissed a sigh of relief between her lips. Pain shot through her body as she pressed her wrists against the sheets and attempted to crawl forward. Sweat began to bead against her forehead as she pushed forward, dragging her trembling naked body toward the doorway of the bathroom.

            As she approached the door, which was slightly ajar, she cupped her hand hard against her mouth to keep from crying out. A wave of pain had shot through her arm. Hermione glanced down and grimaced at the red that had begun to seep through her bandages. Her stitches had torn on the arm where he had tried to save her the tragedy of Bellatrix’s scars. She bit her tongue to keep from sobbing as she forced her hand against her forearm and applied pressure. It hurt and she was certain it would not stop the bleeding but she had no other choice.

            With great effort Hermione gripped the wooden edging of the door frame. She struggled to pull her body up from the floor, panting silently as she forced her full weight up onto her feet. Once again her knees buckled but she caught herself against the side of the wall and flinched as the cracking sound filled the air once more. Blood began to drip down her arm through the bandage and Hermione could feel the tears pricking at her eyes. She slunk down against the doorframe, unable to support her weight any longer.

            The door creaked open and she let her head fall forward against her chest. But again the crack split through the air, this time louder. She shivered, the sound echoing harsh against her ear. Hermione strained her neck but from her angle slumped against the doorframe she could not see into the bathroom. Still naked and trembling with blood still trickling down her arm she attempted to grip the frame once more and pull herself into the bathroom. She was helpless; huddled against the floor, gaping in shock at the man before her.

            His back was turned to her, though he stood naked, facing the sink. His legs trembled and with a heavy thud he sunk to them, his legs smacking against the cold tile. Bright crimson stained the floor around him. His whole body shook; long bleedings marks littered across his back and the backs of his thighs. The whip clattered to the floor; the handle baring stains of blood. Severus was sweating, his breath ragged, his body unable to endure anymore.

            She watched in horror as he gripped the crumbling gray edge of what could have only been a toilet and retched. Blood continued to drip in rivulets down his back from the fresh markings he’d inflicted upon his flesh. Her voice was broken and escaped as a cracked whimper, which was drowned out as Severus retched once more into the toilet. His whole body roiled forward and he collapsed against the toilet edge.

            Her arm stung terribly as it bled but she couldn’t tear her eyes from his bleeding backside as he turned slightly to the side and gripped the edge of the sink with his pale knuckles. Hermione felt the tears streaking down her face and tried again to cry out but her breath caught in her throat and she hiccupped softly through silent sobs. He hadn’t noticed her as his trembling hand let go of the porcelain basin and gripped the dull knife blade. Severus struggled, and slipped only once but managed to stand up, even if he leaned into the sink a bit to do so. He winced, bracing his free hand against the edge of the sink once more as he pressed the blade against his thigh.

            She felt her own stomach turn as she watched him pull the blade against the inside of his thigh and across the skin below his naval. Black wiry curls were stripped from his skin and floated to the floor as he repeated the gesture, no longer gripping the sink, but gripping his flaccid member, tugging it roughly to the side as he tore at his flesh with the blade.

            “Please…” she whimpered, inaudible at first. “Please,” she tried again.

            He stilled his hand, skin raw and bleeding in places against his sex. His eyes fell closed. “You have broken your stitches,” he said. Though his voice was steady, it was strained. The knife clattered into the sink and with a quick movement he grabbed a dingy towel nearby and wrapped it around his waist. Severus turned around but found himself leaning back to grip the sink as his legs trembled once more and nearly gave way.

            Hermione hung her head, fully sobbing now, her voice returning to her. “Let me die…” she sobbed.

            With shuddering uneven steps he lurched forward and grabbed her wrist. She whimpered as she was dragged across the floor, the sheet still beneath her, and back into the room with the bed. His fingers released their grip and his whole hand shook as he pointed to the mattress. “Get up,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

            It took her several tries before she was finally able to pull herself into the bed, panting and trembling, gasping for breath as she did. Hermione was raw, stinging with pain and unable to catch her breath. Sweat was pouring down her forehead as she tried to calm her breathing.

            “Infection is setting in,” he said with a rasp. Severus cringed as he pulled himself onto the mattress near the night table. Reaching into the drawer he withdrew a bottle and the needle which he had used before. He struggled for only a moment to tear back her blood-soaked bandages. Her stitches has pulled away from the still healing skin. He frowned, gripping the bottle tightly before squirting it over her bleeding wound.

            Hermione shrieked, as the iodine stung and a fresh wave of pain coursed through her body. She felt dizzy, her body melting in heat and pain. She was panting her eyes fluttering open and shut.

            Despite his trembling fingers and his own paling pallor, Severus made quick work of reapplying stitches to her flesh, and managed to redress her arm with fresh bandages. “Foolish,” he hissed though his voice was cracked, almost a rough unheard whisper to her ears. He reached for the drawer once more and found his fingers wrapped around a syringe. Fumbling toward her shoulder he stabbed the tip of the needle a bit harder into her skin than he’d intended, at the soft spot where her collarbone gave way to her throat. Hermione whimpered and pulled away.

            He tossed the syringe to the floor and glared at her. Hermione could not bring her eyes to meet his. She could feel the dizzying but all too familiar sensation of the drug beginning to course through her veins. The darkness surrounded her and her eyes fell shut. Severus waited a moment before he tried to stand from the edge of the bed, but his legs betrayed him and he collapsed in a shaking heap to the floor.
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Turn On The Darkness