Broken & Abused

A/N :Sorry for the wait. I had a harder time with this chapter. This story does not follow with the last few books. Hermione is in her seventh year at Hogwarts and the final battle was the summer before. Harry, unfortunately, died in the final war. In my little world anyways.

This chapter has a scene of rape. Those who don't wish to read it, it's in italics, skip it. You don't really need the details, just know that it happened.

Thanks for your reviews! I was so excited. This is my first fanfic so I was really glad you liked it.

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Snape looked up and down both of Hermione’s arms. Her right arm from shoulder to elbow had little white scars. All short and mostly shallow: signs of a persistent coward. Her left arm, however, only had three fairly recent cuts. Each one was slightly deeper than the last; the last of which was the one bleeding.

“Why?” Snape repeated shaking her slightly to get her attention. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Hermione stared at him. ‘Was that worry in his voice? In his eyes?’ She stared a moment longer, then collapsed almost to the floor crying. Thankful that classes were over for the day, Snape warded the classroom door and carried Hermione to his study. He sat her in an arm chair and disappeared for a few minutes. When he returned he was holding two potions in his hands. One Hermione recognized as a blood-replenishing potion. The other vial was filled with a smoking purple liquid. He handed them both to Hermione. She took the blood-replenishing potion, and then hesitated.

“What is this one?” Hermione looked up at Snape.

“It’s a wound-healing potion. Just take it.” Hermione drank the potion and watched as the open cuts on her left arm stitched themselves together. “Now, tell me what is going on.” Snape sat in an arm chair across from Hermione. She looked away from Snape and stared into the fireplace. “Look, I know I haven’t been the kindest person to you. And I know I’m probably the last person in the world you want to have a personal talk with. But you need to help me understand because I am going to have to tell Dumbledore. At least then I can plead your side and maybe convince him you don’t need to be committed to St. Mungos. Okay?”

Hermione nodded her head but still remained silent. She just could not find the words to explain what she was going through. “Well, I mean, part of it is loosing Harry. It was so hard on all of us.”

“Is that all?”

“No. I guess it all started with my parents. You know, I was an accident. They never wanted children. And they definitely didn’t bargain for a witch. I mean I’m sure they loved me. We fought so much though; even more so in the few months before they were killed.” Once she started talking the words just tumbled out of her. “And I hated them so much. I still remember all the nights I sat up crying over a fight we had and how I wished they would just go away and never come back. I feel awful for that. No child should ever wish their parents away like that. And now they’re gone, and I can’t say I’m sorry. And it’s all my fault really.” She started to cry in earnest again.

“All kids fight with their parents. I’m sure they knew you loved them too. But it’s not your fault they died.” Snape was trying to sound reassuring.

“Y-yes it is.” Hermione sobbed. “I was the child they didn’t want to begin with. And Voldemort only killed them because they were my parents. Without me, they would still be alive.”

“You can’t help that you were born with magic in you. It’s not something you choose or can control. If you suppress your magic it becomes uncontrollable. Beside if you really want to go that route, I am as much to blame as you are. I knew they were going to be targeted next. I tried to tell the Order, I really did. I guess it just wasn’t soon enough. And you can’t have been too much of an accident. I’m sure both your parents were aware that condoms and birth control exist.”

“You knew they were being targeted?”

“Yes. I knew. I told the order they needed to get all the muggle parents into safe houses. And I know they got a few to safety. Unfortunately they didn’t get to yours in time.”

Hermione seemed to be struggling with what she had been told. “So, were you the one to attack them?”

“No. I was one of Voldemort’s most trusted death eaters. But he did not trust me completely apparently. He said that he wanted to send someone that e knew would not have anything to get in the way of killing them because he wanted them killed without any complications. In other words, he thought I had grown a conscience and didn’t want it to get in the way.”

“Oh.”

The two were silent for a long while until Snape broke the silence. “Are those the only reasons?” He remembered she had said it all started with her parents. He didn’t like the phrasing; it made it seem like there were a huge list of things.

“Um, no. Not really.” Hermione had started fidgeting again. She did not want to have to admit everything to Professor Snape, even though he was being somewhat sensitive.

“Well, like I said Miss Granger, I will be the one pleading your case. So you might want to give me as much ammo as you can; Professor Dumbledore can be very stubborn sometimes.”

“I guess it didn’t really start with my parents as much as it is all about them. Because as much as I regret them dying and I would never wish death on them, I can’t help but feel relieved.” Hermione looked away from Snape as though she had just admitted to killing them herself.

Snape did not know what to think. ‘What could they have possibly done to her? It can’t just be that they didn’t want a child. There must be something more.’ “What did they do?”

“My father has always loved alcohol. It started out innocently enough; a drink with dinner or at a social outing. But after I was born he started to drink more heavily. I think my mother always held that against me. I was the cause of his spiral into alcoholism. It didn’t really affect me much when I was younger. He’d go out for the weekend once a month or so, and drink himself into oblivion. The more he drank, the less money we had, and the more he wanted to drink to forget about his money problems. Around the time I turned thirteen, he lost interest in pretending we didn’t know. So he started drinking at home, passing out on the couch. He used to be such a pathetic, harmless drunk.” She stared off into the fire, lost in her own memories.

Snape watched Hermione, tempted to sneak into her mind, but afraid she would shut him out for good if he did. He watched as her fists clenched tight enough for her knuckles to whiten. The pain of her memories was written all over her face. “Hermione?” She snapped out of her thoughts as he spoke.

“Oh. Sorry.” But still she sat silently staring into the fire.

“He used to be harmless. So what did he do?” Snape saw the silent tears sliding down her cheek. He was amazed at how much he really did care about the girl. She had been forced to grow up as a witch way too fast because of the war; that, he’d always known. But he didn’t realize much her home life had done the same thing. At such a young age she had seen so much. No one should have to ever go through all of this. He had been forced to grow up too early as well. But he would never wish that on another soul.

Hermione started shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. They were pleading with him to understand, but also held a lot of distrust.

“Would you like to use a pensieve? Legilimency would force both of us to feel as you felt during the memory. Obviously you have gone through something terrible and I do not want to distress you anymore than necessary.” He walked out of the room and returned with a stone basin, which he sat on the coffee table between the two chairs. “Do you know how to use one?”

“Yes.” Hermione pulled out her wand and placed the tip at her temple. As she pulled away a silvery strand flowed from her wand and fell into the basin. She did this three times before putting her wand away.

Snape watched her then pulled the basin closer to him. Leaning over the basin, he fell into her first memory.

Hermione was lying in bed, listening to her parents yell at each other. Snape was sure their argument could be heard at least by the neighbors, but definitely by Hermione. She looked to be thirteen, maybe fourteen.

“I don’t like all the drinking you are doing, There is no excuse for it. You know we don’t have the money to spend on anything extra.” Her mother yelled.

“I’m not drinking that much. Besides, it helps my sanity. If you really want to save some money, stop sending Hermione to that school. She’d be around more, but it would save us a ton of money.” Her father retorted.

“You drink more when she’s home. I’m sure the cost would even out. Granted if you drank as much as you drink when she’s home year round, you’d be dead within a month.” This comment was followed by a loud slap and a scream.

Snape watched Hermione’s eyes clamp shut as she tried not to hear them fight.

The first memory faded and Snape found himself in what looked to be a living room.

The room was full of smoke. He could she Hermione’s father smoking in an armchair. The door opened and Hermione walked in. She looked a couple of years older. She stopped dead as soon as she smelt the smoke.

“Daddy, what are you smoking? It smells awful.”

Her father quickly hid what he was smoking and picked a cigar up out of an ashtray. “Nothing Hermione.” He stood up and walked over to her. His eyes were glassy as he stared at her somewhat lewdly. Grabbing her arm, she caught her breath and tried to struggle away. “You must not tell your mother about this okay? This is our little secret.”

“Okay daddy, you’re hurting me.” Letting her go, he stared at her with a strange glint in his eyes as she fled the room.

The memory faded and once again he was in Hermione’s bedroom.

She was lying on her bed reading a book. Snape smiled noticing it was her potions book. Looking around her room he noticed a cauldron with a potion simmering in it. Before he could go investigate which potion it was her bedroom door slammed open. Hermione’s father walked in looked at the cauldron, then at her.

“What did I tell you about doing any of that shit in this house?” He yelled. His eyes were glassier than before and you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Hermione had jumped up and sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry daddy. I just wanted to get a head start on the school year. It’s only a simple potion.” She leaned back a little as he approached her.

“I don’t care what you wanted. I will not have it in my house. Under my roof!” He slapped her on her cheek hard enough for her to slide sideways a little. Grabbing her throat he pushed her back on her bed. “Now you’re going to get the punishment you deserve, you ungrateful little bitch.”

Her father climbed on top of her straddling her waist. He pulled her shirt off and leaned down as if to kiss her. Instead he bit the top of her chest hard enough to draw little droplets of blood. All the while Hermione was screaming for him to stop.

“No daddy! Please stop!” She struggled against him only to get slapped again.

He knelt between her legs and pulled at her sweatpants. “You better hope you’re still a virgin. I will not have a whore for a daughter.” He laughed at her as he pulled down her knickers as well.

Snape had seen all her could take. He pulled out of the pensieve.