Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

My Heart Bleeds For You	By : ThePhantomPixie Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Remus/Hermione Views: 14630 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from this fanfiction

Chapter List
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Things were wonderful. Times were joyous. Everyone celebrated … night after night of constant celebrations at numerous houses. Hosted by countless members of the wizarding community; whether they had been on the dark side or not. It sounded cliché to some, but the golden trio were going stronger than ever. They went out together, they dined together and eventually they got together. Harry with Ron’s sister Ginny and Hermione with Ron. They were blissfully happy. Smiling to their hearts content. Enjoying their freedom. Every time the cameras turned to them they always happily shared their time with the masses. Telling them that they were not ashamed to be normal people, being shown shopping for equipment and clothing. Eating out, or simply ordering from a take away. Hermione especially was not shy about showing of her muggle fashions or devices that she refused to let go of in her life. At sixteen the Golden Trio had conquered the darkest wizard of their time, and of their parent’s time. Never to see or hear from him again.

Until the crowds vanished … the cameras stopped flashing and the autograph hounds stopped pestering. Then the golden trio were nothing more than a bickering group of people who over the years had been thrust together for the greater good. It came as no shock when Ron left the ground, left Hermione. Some blonde girl wanting him to sign somewhere specific had ended up in his bed … his signature all over her. A look if disappointment and dissatisfaction.

But Harry? Hermione always believed that the troubled boy would always stay with her; even as the platonic sibling friendship grew the muggle born had stupidly believed that for some reason or other the two of them would stand by each other. Merlin knew she had seen him through some of his darkest hours.

Yet with the reformation of the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts unfit for students to attend Hermione had found herself alone. Alone in her parents’ home, their memories returned at the end of the war. Left to sit in the gloom as she recounted all those around her that she had lost the war. The people that had become close, and then left due to Voldemort's power, or lack thereof it had seemed.

For being anticlimactic when Harry simply shot the killing curse at Voldemort … so many more around them had died. Almost all of them wiped out. Leaving the trio to stand with Molly and Arthur Weasley, George minus one ear and Ginny. They were all that remained. Only when Molly killed Bellatrix did the Death Eaters retreat. Their skin burning as their master fell before their eyes at the hand of a child half their age. At the hands of someone who had evaded the killing curse for sixteen years. Though the battle was bloody and the bodies of their friends lay strewn around them the group huddled together. The Weasleys and Harry taking off to the rebuilt Burrow and Hermione off to restore the memories of her parents. Having relocated them to Australia with modified memories before the final battle, save them being used against her in the fight. Something like that she knew she would never have recovered from. However Harry had managed to cope she would never know. To Hermione, her parents meant the world to her. They were the very essence of her existence and without them there would be nothing worth living for.

So there she sat. All day. Every day. On the edge of her single white cotton sheet bed. Staring into the blankness that was the mirror on her wall. Her reflection the only source of true colour in her room besides the numerous books she so studiously cherished. After the war even they were ignored.

In essence, she was numbing herself from any and all emotion. Systematically shutting her brain down day by day in the hopes that one time she would be able to fall into a comforting sleep. And never wake up.

It was a cowards way to think of things. The war was over; everyone that survived was having the time of their lives. Ron especially. She would not begrudge him his enjoyment of women. God knows he never found it when he was with her. Apparently she was far too prudish; refusing to even let him do the simplest of things to her. All the while she cowered, terrified after reliving memories of a forgotten time in her childhood. Of when her 'uncle' had babysat her. Had told her all the lurid things he would do to her if anyone found out about 'their little secret'. While Ron believed she was stuck up and frigid … Hermione lay there, letting him get on with things while she replayed every image in her head of the forgotten man who babysat her one summer two years ago when she was fourteen.

Her parents never knew of course. Why should she tell them such a dreadful thing? She would simply crush their spirits. Let them see that an action of their own had crushed their daughter who for as long as she knew she was a witch had to fight off evils to save the world with no help from any adult that could listen. Of course Hermione never divulged anything about the war. Or the subsequent events that lead to the final battle. She simply returned their memories and stated rather plainly. 'It's over. We won. Let's go home'. And was done with it.

Not even her work on the veil that found very simply that to return someone from it one must send the essence of their soul into the veil in the form of a strong Patronus with the intent to return someone. Their hearts had to be in it however. The veil was more or less a giant dementor. Sucking the souls of people until they died. The living that passed through were held in a time freeze, a suspended animation where they knew no subsequent passing of time nor of any events that passed. So when Hermione, hard faced and broken returned her best friends godfather from the veil she made no qualms about her reasoning and simply flooed him to the Burrow and returned home.

After a few weeks … the owls simply stopped.

"Hermione? Darling? Are you still sitting there?" Her mother called from the hallway, opening the door only slightly to take in what remained of her beautiful daughter. At sixteen she should have been enjoying her youth, celebrating a life she had that many others were not so lucky in losing. Yet she sulked in her room. Depressed. Almost lifeless. The dullness of her once vibrant eyes had frightened her parents. Almost at one point believing she was someone else. It didn't bother her however, as she simply stated that they could believe her or not, but that she simply was tired and wanted to go to bed.

That however, was four months ago. By this time the school year should have ended. Everyone would be filing out for summer. And Hermione should have been studying furiously for Seventh year and the goal of passing her N.E.W.T.S. Her school books. For once in their life. Sat covered in a thin layer of dust. The proof that Hermione Jean Granger, bookworm friend and one third of the Golden trio had given up forever. The government had left her with a healthy settlement as 'compensation' for their troubles during the war. Over thirty thousand Galleons each. In muggle money … it meant Hermione was a very wealthy sixteen years old.

"I'm fine mum." the girl murmured, her eyes never straying away from the blank expression on her face. Registering the movement as she spoke but not making a lot of difference to the way she sat still as a statue on her bed. As if possessed by a demon. This was not the girl everyone had grown to know of Hermione Granger. Brightest witch of her age. Perfect student and solution to the mystery of the veil.

"Well … dinner is on the table if you want some sweetie. You're father and I would like it if you could sit with us. But you take your time my love." She said softly, concern and affection lacing every syllable as she spoke. Her eyes once more taking in the now gaunt looking girl she was blessed with.

However, that night was not at all going to be remedied by her sitting at the dining room table anymore.

Not long after six PM a loud crash was heard and the sound of screaming from downstairs alerted the war veteran sixteen year old as she grabbed her wand and raced downstairs, holding it in front of her as she came across a scene she prayed would never occur. Her mother and father thrown into a corner. Their bodied eviscerated and pooling with blood as their glazed eyes gazed up at their daughter. After that things became a blur. A noiseless, numbed blur.

She could remember it all vividly, and feel every ounce of pain. Yet if felt like she had risen above her body. She acknowledged the pain. Loved how it made her feel. And yet she believed that she had risen from her body and now floating, looking downward onto the ground.

Seven rogue Death Eaters. Still wearing their masks. Still glaring at the girl who was a poster child for everything that went against their teaching. A muggle born who had succeeding in aiding the defeat of their Dark Lord.

She heard their taunts, she understood their threats. Yet still as they beat her down, kicking her wand to the other side of the room and proceeded to rape her. One after the other … then again. She refused to feel anything but numbness. She let it happen. Let them destroy her. Destroy everything about her. Rip her to shreds, take from her whatever sanity she had remaining as; with each passing second she stared into the cold dead eyes of the two people she knew would never intentionally leave her. The only two people in the world that when she needed them had always been there. The only people she trusted.

But they were dead too.

"Hey; hear that?" One of them asked in a hushed tone as a series of 'POP!'s could be heard outside the front window. Though the curtains were closed and the lights off it would be easy to make out the people on the ground, or the figures slumped in the corner, or the girl divest of any dignity or clothing that lay on the ground. Her body a shrine to human mauling. Subjected to things so unimaginable that there was the very real possibility that she would abstain from any further human contact. Taking her own life seemed pretty reasonable right about now.

"Hermione? Hey! 'Mione? We heard there was a disturbance 'round here."

Ah. Ronald. The very person who had begun this great tirade of self-loathing. How ironic that it would be he she saw in her last moments. That it would be he who saw her naked and broken on the ground. Surrounding her Death Eaters bravely shot their wands to the sky and cast the dark mark over her house. Reminding the wizarding world that the threat was far from gone. Before they disaparated away from her home. Leaving her laying there. In a pool of her own blood. The stench of sex everywhere. Covering her young body just barely legal age for suck matters. But already she knew there was no hope for her. There was too much, too young.

"Hermione!" A second voice, more popping. It all blurred as one by one the Aurors arrived at the scene to take in what was surly going to be in the papers the next morning. Reaching across the room and crying out in agony as she reached into a cupboard and pulled out a long forgotten time-turner and grappled for her wand.

The others were only there in time to see momentarily the body of their best friend ruined beyond all belief before she silently mumbled a spell at the time turner and looped it over her head, only to have it pulled off at the last possible second. Sending her through time with no time-turner to fix things. No ability to stop as her body slowly began to regain feeling. With no friends, no parents, no life and no clothes … she found herself looking into a very familiar place. A memory it must have been. Hogwarts had never looked so beautiful. It was definitely something of her life flashing before her eyes. How ironic that the place that held almost all of her good memories, also brought with it the pain of dark and painful deaths surrounding her.

"Merlin! Padfoot! Prongs come quick!" Someone shouted. She curled up body thankfully protecting something of her dignity, yet not by much. Or with not much need. The blood covering her was so thick it created a blanket effect over her torn and bruised body. The emotional trauma of it all leaving her with dullness in her eyes. Life … yet, empty.

"Get Professor Dumbledore!" another shouted towards a fourth of the group. His slight pudgy figure made the rational side of her brain quickly interpret that it would take him far longer than the four well build boys currently staring down at her. Yet all thought was lost as she took a haggard breath. Her lungs struggling not to drown with the heavy amount of blood in them, causing a soft watery sound before her eyes closely lost focus. And the shouts became a fuzzy sort of muffle. And the world turned to darkness.
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My Heart Bleeds For You