That Which Lurks in the Daylight
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,486
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,486
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
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.
One Step at a Time
Author’s Note: Well, I bet you all thought I just dropped off into nothingness, didn’t you?
I’ve been working on a few other things, but it’s all since calmed down. So, look out for more frequently updated chapters in the future.
Also, on a side note, please forgive me for any errors if you find any. I’ve not got a beta reader to catch any minor mistakes, so blame my muse for those! ^_^
So, enjoy and read up! And reviews are fabulously welcomed and appreciated!
Disclaimer: As much as I wish to, I do not own the HP Universe. It is the fabulous brainchild of J.K Rowling, all rights belonging to her and her publishing company friends with their attack dog lawyers.
That Which Lurks in the Daylight
Chapter Three: One Step at a Time
Ginevra Weasley was worried. She had been stressed near to the breaking point over the last week, thinking about her friend. She had been in the Great Hall when Hermione arrived that night and could hardly keep the thoughts of what may have happened to her from plaguing her every waking moment. Days before she went home, Ginny had tried to convince the older girl not to go. She begged and pleaded, even going so far as to ask to go with her for the sake of her not being alone. But all of her objections fell on deaf ears.
Her warnings were not heeded and look where it had gotten her: a private room in the infirmary.
Sighing, Ginny rolled onto her side in the big four poster. She rubbed at her eyes, wiping the sleep from her face. A soft thump sounded, quickly followed by a soft call. A cold nose soon touched on her cheek. Raising her hand, she settled her fingers in her visitor’s fluffy ginger coat.
“Hello Crookshanks,” she mumbled sleepily, “missing Hermione, hmm?” A soft meow followed in response. “Well, I miss her, too.”
Lying down on the bed, Crookshanks looked on with mournful eyes. His tail swished back and forth tiredly as he rested his head next to Ginny’s chest. A human-like muffled sigh came forth from the cat.
“I know, Crookshanks,” Ginny crooned to the unhappy cat, “I know. I was just as worried when she went home and my hunch was right; look what happened to her.”
“Meow.”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“Meow.”
“I felt it days before she left. I could not get rid of the uneasy feeling that arose when I thought of her going home alone.” Tears sprang to Ginny’s eyes, blurring her vision momentarily before sliding down her cheeks. “I should have gone with you, but my mum wouldn’t allow it.”
Crookshanks, having sat up, raised a paw to the crying girl’s cheek. He liked this red-haired human as much as he liked his mistress and didn’t like to see either of them crying. He gave a comforting purr before curling up into her chest again. He shuffled around, his warm body burrowing into the space under Ginny’s chin.
Sniffling, Ginny placed her cheek into the cat’s soft fur. “Thanks, Crookshanks,” she said softly, “I just hope that I can give as much comfort to her that you’ve given me.”
“Meow.”
----------------------
Luna Lovegood, for once, let her mask drop. The serenely calm façade that she wore daily was gone, leaving her face completely open to express her emotions. At the moment, she had a frown marring her features. Her eyebrows had drawn down from their usual resting place; her commonly seen dreamy smile had tilted down in contemplation. The distant look had left her eyes, to be replaced with what was really there: a highly intelligent and concentrated gaze. Her eyes were completely focused, lucid, on the task at hand; one that needed her full attention.
Last night, she had had the same dream that plagued her for almost a month. It was some kind of event that was building up to something and it puzzled her. Each time she had the dream she would wake up and write down what she remembered in her dream journal. Every single time, she could see a little more of what was happening. It started with a view of someone’s house from the street, like the person was watching for something. Then, every dream after that she could hear a man’s voice and see him following somebody, but she could never make out just who it was. The whole thing was just odd, even for her. She knew that these dreams were a sequence of events, but it never made sense.
Well, it never occurred to her just what it was until Hermione Granger showed up in the Great Hall.
Now she knew exactly what that dream was about. All this time, she had been dreaming about Hermione’s capture. She didn’t understand why she had the dream, only that whatever had caused her to have them must be some kind of ability she’d been unaware of in the past. Yes, she saw things differently from the rest of the world, but it had never carried over into her dreams.
Sighing, she filed the thoughts away for another time. It was time for class and if she didn’t pack her books, she’d be late. It wasn’t like she needed to study, but being late to any place without reason, was impolite.
She could worry about her dreams in the History of Magic class—nobody would be paying attention anyway, they never do.
----------------------
After splashing cool water onto her warm face, Hermione turned off the faucet. She rose from the sink, the water sliding off of her skin and onto her shirt as she looked at her reflection. A bleak look had settled into her eyes, a dim shinning that only reflected the trauma of events that she couldn’t remember. Maybe she didn’t want to remember…it was just that she still needed to know. She had gaps in her memory that went unaccounted for and she didn’t like it. Who would? How would she able to get over what happened to her if she couldn’t remember? Even if it was damaging, she had to know. She needed to know just the same way that Oedipus needed to know who had killed the king.
Oedipus… her father…. Her parents didn’t even know what had happened. They had gone on a two-week anniversary trip in August, right before she left for Grimmauld Place. When they came back, she was already gone for school. When she finally woke up to see the Headmaster and the others around her, she couldn’t bear to think of them knowing and begged them not to tell her parents. At least, not until she figured out what was done to her.
Oh, but she already knew that something had been done to her. The bruising on her hips and leg was an indication as was the tenderness in her breasts. Looking down, she took note of the redness around her wrists. She knew that her hands were bound, but by what? By whom?
“Why me?” she suddenly screamed. Reaching up, Hermione smashed her hands into the mirror. “What did I do to deserve this? Why? Why? WHY?”
Picking up a cup, Hermione sent it flying into the glass. Her haggard reflection shattered, the ugly image falling away into a million twinkling pieces. Heaving a great sigh, she scrunched her hands into the useless glass. The sharp edges cut into her skin, looking like diamonds embedded down in her flesh. A laugh bubbled up from her wounded soul, a dying sound that filled the air. Looking down at her hands, Hermione saw her blood mingling with the water and the broken remains of the mirror. All of it made her sick; the glass, her blood, her hands, even the gaps in her memory—it just turned her stomach inside out. It all gurgled up, reaching the back of her throat and erupting into the already filled sink.
“I’m dirty now,” Hermione said vaguely. “I would do anything to be clean…clean…clean. A shower, a steaming hot shower will do a body good.”
Turning around, Hermione turned on the shower faucet at full-blast. She watched the multiple jets of water pounding into the tiled walls. Mindful of nothing but being clean, she jumped fully-clothed into the hot downpour. Standing there, she felt every single drop, each one like hot little nails digging into her body. The laughter bubbled up as a song filled her mind. Soon the words echoed into the falling water, surrounding her with misery.
“Down in a hole and I don’t know if I can be saved
See my heart I decorate it like a grave
You don’t understand who they
Thought I was supposed to be
Look at me now a man
Who won’t let himself be”
Hermione knelt down, letting the merciless drops slide down her body. She raised her hands, looking at the blood dripping away into the drain. It swirled with the hot water, reminding her of a sick muggle peppermint candy, before going down into the pipes.
“Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, losin’ my soul
I’d like to fly,
But my wings have been so denied”
Sitting down, she wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock from side to side.
“ Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, losin’ my soul
Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, outta control
I’d like to fly but my
Wings have been so denied.”
“Wings have been denied… I’d like to fly…,” she said quietly, broken.
Stopping in her movements, she placed her forehead down onto her knees.
The pounding water soon drowned out her sobs, washing them down tiled drain.
----------------------
Beep, beep, beep!
Poppy Pomfrey looked up from the files she was putting away. The alarm, the one for when a patient was in dire straits, was sounding urgently.
Beep, beep, BEEP!
Jumping from her seat, the medi-witch ran from the office, heading towards the private rooms of the infirmary. Coming to a stop in front of a portrait of a medi-witch and patient, she traced the medical symbol of the magical world onto the robe of the portrait witch. Instantly, the painting sprung to life, the two occupants going on about their business as the frame slid to the left. Quickly stepping into the room, Poppy looked around for her patient. Seeing nothing, she moved forward only to hear the sound of rushing water.
“Running water…the bath,” she gasped before breaking into a run.
Entering the bathroom, Poppy gasped again. Kneeling in the shower was Hermione crying brokenly under the downpour. Turning off the spray, Poppy summoned a towel to drape over the soaking girl.
“I’d like to fly,” Hermione said sobbing, “I just want to fly away.”
Poppy swallowed back a sob of her own, forcing it down her throat. “I know, dear,” she said sadly. “Come, let’s get you dry and into a warm bed.”
“Get me dry and into a warm bed?” Hermione turned her sad eyes up in question. “Am I clean now?”
“Yes, dear, you are clean.” Poppy charmed a comfortable nightgown onto Hermione and then helped her under the crisp covers of the bed. She settled the girl back onto the fluffy pillows, brushing some curls back from her forehead. After getting her to drink down a calming potion, Poppy placed a motherly kiss on the girl’s soft cheek. Poppy knew that she wasn’t supposed to act so towards her patients, but this was a special and dire case. Hermione needed all of the assurance and love that she could get. Moving to the door, the medi-witch turned to look at the now sleeping girl. Just as she was about to close the portrait opening, Fawkes flashed into the room, his flaming plumage glittering in the dying daylight.
“Standing guard, are you?”
The phoenix nodded his fiery head, letting out a few calming notes as he curled his warm body around the sleeping girl.
“Well keep her safe, then. I’m counting on you.”
Poppy allowed the portrait close behind her. Straining her ears, she could hear the faint calming notes of the fire bird’s song. Sitting down in the alcove, Poppy let her tears fall. For the first time in all of her medical career, she didn’t know what to do. But, she refused to give up because that girl needed her and depended on her for help. Wiping away a few more tears, she got up and walked quickly to her office. There were some friends that she needed to contact. It was time to bring in the reinforcements to get the Head Girl back on track.
Healing was a long process, but with one step at a time it could be done.
------------------------
“Did you have fun, my dear?”
“Of course, my master, how could I pass up on such a glorious opportunity?”
The Dark Lord smirked in pleasure, his red eyes glinting at the thought of the destruction caused. “Oh, how absolutely delicious it is. And what of the girl; did she return to Hogwarts?”
The man laughed. “Yes, my lord. She was returned as planned. I allowed her to leave our little slice of heaven.” His white teeth glinted in the candlelight as he grinned over his conquest.
“Ah now, you know it is disgusting to play with your food, my child,” Voldemort said with a nasty smile. He leaned forward in his seat and asked, “How loud did she scream?”
The man laughed outright this time. “She screamed until she could scream no more.” He sighed with pleasure, feeling the desire course through his veins. “I will have to have her again.”
“All in due time, my child,” Voldemort said smirking again. “Perhaps we will be allowed to watch this time, hmm? It’s always fun to see a Mudblood being defiled, even better when it is Potter’s little friend.”
“Of course, my lord,” he said with a nod. He bowed as his master stood up from his ornate chair.
“Come. Let us take time for tea and plans at Malfoy Manor. Lucius always has a good spread and I just love those little sandwiches. And you may tell more of your time with the girl.”
“Of course, my lord.”
The two men’s voices echoed in the hallway outside of the door. Seconds later, the loud cracks of their departure was heard in the house.
Outside, the wind mournfully howled, beating against the building before quieting down.
The cries of the gulls and sea rose and fell, naturally ignorant of the evil that was once in their presence.
The same way that we are all ignorant of evil until it is too late.
-------------------------
Quick note: The song that Hermione sings, “Down in a Hole” is by Alice in Chains. It can be found on their “Dirt” album, which was released in 1992.
Don’t let a muse go hungry! Review to save a muse!
I’ve been working on a few other things, but it’s all since calmed down. So, look out for more frequently updated chapters in the future.
Also, on a side note, please forgive me for any errors if you find any. I’ve not got a beta reader to catch any minor mistakes, so blame my muse for those! ^_^
So, enjoy and read up! And reviews are fabulously welcomed and appreciated!
Disclaimer: As much as I wish to, I do not own the HP Universe. It is the fabulous brainchild of J.K Rowling, all rights belonging to her and her publishing company friends with their attack dog lawyers.
That Which Lurks in the Daylight
Chapter Three: One Step at a Time
Ginevra Weasley was worried. She had been stressed near to the breaking point over the last week, thinking about her friend. She had been in the Great Hall when Hermione arrived that night and could hardly keep the thoughts of what may have happened to her from plaguing her every waking moment. Days before she went home, Ginny had tried to convince the older girl not to go. She begged and pleaded, even going so far as to ask to go with her for the sake of her not being alone. But all of her objections fell on deaf ears.
Her warnings were not heeded and look where it had gotten her: a private room in the infirmary.
Sighing, Ginny rolled onto her side in the big four poster. She rubbed at her eyes, wiping the sleep from her face. A soft thump sounded, quickly followed by a soft call. A cold nose soon touched on her cheek. Raising her hand, she settled her fingers in her visitor’s fluffy ginger coat.
“Hello Crookshanks,” she mumbled sleepily, “missing Hermione, hmm?” A soft meow followed in response. “Well, I miss her, too.”
Lying down on the bed, Crookshanks looked on with mournful eyes. His tail swished back and forth tiredly as he rested his head next to Ginny’s chest. A human-like muffled sigh came forth from the cat.
“I know, Crookshanks,” Ginny crooned to the unhappy cat, “I know. I was just as worried when she went home and my hunch was right; look what happened to her.”
“Meow.”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“Meow.”
“I felt it days before she left. I could not get rid of the uneasy feeling that arose when I thought of her going home alone.” Tears sprang to Ginny’s eyes, blurring her vision momentarily before sliding down her cheeks. “I should have gone with you, but my mum wouldn’t allow it.”
Crookshanks, having sat up, raised a paw to the crying girl’s cheek. He liked this red-haired human as much as he liked his mistress and didn’t like to see either of them crying. He gave a comforting purr before curling up into her chest again. He shuffled around, his warm body burrowing into the space under Ginny’s chin.
Sniffling, Ginny placed her cheek into the cat’s soft fur. “Thanks, Crookshanks,” she said softly, “I just hope that I can give as much comfort to her that you’ve given me.”
“Meow.”
Luna Lovegood, for once, let her mask drop. The serenely calm façade that she wore daily was gone, leaving her face completely open to express her emotions. At the moment, she had a frown marring her features. Her eyebrows had drawn down from their usual resting place; her commonly seen dreamy smile had tilted down in contemplation. The distant look had left her eyes, to be replaced with what was really there: a highly intelligent and concentrated gaze. Her eyes were completely focused, lucid, on the task at hand; one that needed her full attention.
Last night, she had had the same dream that plagued her for almost a month. It was some kind of event that was building up to something and it puzzled her. Each time she had the dream she would wake up and write down what she remembered in her dream journal. Every single time, she could see a little more of what was happening. It started with a view of someone’s house from the street, like the person was watching for something. Then, every dream after that she could hear a man’s voice and see him following somebody, but she could never make out just who it was. The whole thing was just odd, even for her. She knew that these dreams were a sequence of events, but it never made sense.
Well, it never occurred to her just what it was until Hermione Granger showed up in the Great Hall.
Now she knew exactly what that dream was about. All this time, she had been dreaming about Hermione’s capture. She didn’t understand why she had the dream, only that whatever had caused her to have them must be some kind of ability she’d been unaware of in the past. Yes, she saw things differently from the rest of the world, but it had never carried over into her dreams.
Sighing, she filed the thoughts away for another time. It was time for class and if she didn’t pack her books, she’d be late. It wasn’t like she needed to study, but being late to any place without reason, was impolite.
She could worry about her dreams in the History of Magic class—nobody would be paying attention anyway, they never do.
After splashing cool water onto her warm face, Hermione turned off the faucet. She rose from the sink, the water sliding off of her skin and onto her shirt as she looked at her reflection. A bleak look had settled into her eyes, a dim shinning that only reflected the trauma of events that she couldn’t remember. Maybe she didn’t want to remember…it was just that she still needed to know. She had gaps in her memory that went unaccounted for and she didn’t like it. Who would? How would she able to get over what happened to her if she couldn’t remember? Even if it was damaging, she had to know. She needed to know just the same way that Oedipus needed to know who had killed the king.
Oedipus… her father…. Her parents didn’t even know what had happened. They had gone on a two-week anniversary trip in August, right before she left for Grimmauld Place. When they came back, she was already gone for school. When she finally woke up to see the Headmaster and the others around her, she couldn’t bear to think of them knowing and begged them not to tell her parents. At least, not until she figured out what was done to her.
Oh, but she already knew that something had been done to her. The bruising on her hips and leg was an indication as was the tenderness in her breasts. Looking down, she took note of the redness around her wrists. She knew that her hands were bound, but by what? By whom?
“Why me?” she suddenly screamed. Reaching up, Hermione smashed her hands into the mirror. “What did I do to deserve this? Why? Why? WHY?”
Picking up a cup, Hermione sent it flying into the glass. Her haggard reflection shattered, the ugly image falling away into a million twinkling pieces. Heaving a great sigh, she scrunched her hands into the useless glass. The sharp edges cut into her skin, looking like diamonds embedded down in her flesh. A laugh bubbled up from her wounded soul, a dying sound that filled the air. Looking down at her hands, Hermione saw her blood mingling with the water and the broken remains of the mirror. All of it made her sick; the glass, her blood, her hands, even the gaps in her memory—it just turned her stomach inside out. It all gurgled up, reaching the back of her throat and erupting into the already filled sink.
“I’m dirty now,” Hermione said vaguely. “I would do anything to be clean…clean…clean. A shower, a steaming hot shower will do a body good.”
Turning around, Hermione turned on the shower faucet at full-blast. She watched the multiple jets of water pounding into the tiled walls. Mindful of nothing but being clean, she jumped fully-clothed into the hot downpour. Standing there, she felt every single drop, each one like hot little nails digging into her body. The laughter bubbled up as a song filled her mind. Soon the words echoed into the falling water, surrounding her with misery.
“Down in a hole and I don’t know if I can be saved
See my heart I decorate it like a grave
You don’t understand who they
Thought I was supposed to be
Look at me now a man
Who won’t let himself be”
Hermione knelt down, letting the merciless drops slide down her body. She raised her hands, looking at the blood dripping away into the drain. It swirled with the hot water, reminding her of a sick muggle peppermint candy, before going down into the pipes.
“Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, losin’ my soul
I’d like to fly,
But my wings have been so denied”
Sitting down, she wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock from side to side.
“ Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, losin’ my soul
Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, outta control
I’d like to fly but my
Wings have been so denied.”
“Wings have been denied… I’d like to fly…,” she said quietly, broken.
Stopping in her movements, she placed her forehead down onto her knees.
The pounding water soon drowned out her sobs, washing them down tiled drain.
Beep, beep, beep!
Poppy Pomfrey looked up from the files she was putting away. The alarm, the one for when a patient was in dire straits, was sounding urgently.
Beep, beep, BEEP!
Jumping from her seat, the medi-witch ran from the office, heading towards the private rooms of the infirmary. Coming to a stop in front of a portrait of a medi-witch and patient, she traced the medical symbol of the magical world onto the robe of the portrait witch. Instantly, the painting sprung to life, the two occupants going on about their business as the frame slid to the left. Quickly stepping into the room, Poppy looked around for her patient. Seeing nothing, she moved forward only to hear the sound of rushing water.
“Running water…the bath,” she gasped before breaking into a run.
Entering the bathroom, Poppy gasped again. Kneeling in the shower was Hermione crying brokenly under the downpour. Turning off the spray, Poppy summoned a towel to drape over the soaking girl.
“I’d like to fly,” Hermione said sobbing, “I just want to fly away.”
Poppy swallowed back a sob of her own, forcing it down her throat. “I know, dear,” she said sadly. “Come, let’s get you dry and into a warm bed.”
“Get me dry and into a warm bed?” Hermione turned her sad eyes up in question. “Am I clean now?”
“Yes, dear, you are clean.” Poppy charmed a comfortable nightgown onto Hermione and then helped her under the crisp covers of the bed. She settled the girl back onto the fluffy pillows, brushing some curls back from her forehead. After getting her to drink down a calming potion, Poppy placed a motherly kiss on the girl’s soft cheek. Poppy knew that she wasn’t supposed to act so towards her patients, but this was a special and dire case. Hermione needed all of the assurance and love that she could get. Moving to the door, the medi-witch turned to look at the now sleeping girl. Just as she was about to close the portrait opening, Fawkes flashed into the room, his flaming plumage glittering in the dying daylight.
“Standing guard, are you?”
The phoenix nodded his fiery head, letting out a few calming notes as he curled his warm body around the sleeping girl.
“Well keep her safe, then. I’m counting on you.”
Poppy allowed the portrait close behind her. Straining her ears, she could hear the faint calming notes of the fire bird’s song. Sitting down in the alcove, Poppy let her tears fall. For the first time in all of her medical career, she didn’t know what to do. But, she refused to give up because that girl needed her and depended on her for help. Wiping away a few more tears, she got up and walked quickly to her office. There were some friends that she needed to contact. It was time to bring in the reinforcements to get the Head Girl back on track.
Healing was a long process, but with one step at a time it could be done.
“Did you have fun, my dear?”
“Of course, my master, how could I pass up on such a glorious opportunity?”
The Dark Lord smirked in pleasure, his red eyes glinting at the thought of the destruction caused. “Oh, how absolutely delicious it is. And what of the girl; did she return to Hogwarts?”
The man laughed. “Yes, my lord. She was returned as planned. I allowed her to leave our little slice of heaven.” His white teeth glinted in the candlelight as he grinned over his conquest.
“Ah now, you know it is disgusting to play with your food, my child,” Voldemort said with a nasty smile. He leaned forward in his seat and asked, “How loud did she scream?”
The man laughed outright this time. “She screamed until she could scream no more.” He sighed with pleasure, feeling the desire course through his veins. “I will have to have her again.”
“All in due time, my child,” Voldemort said smirking again. “Perhaps we will be allowed to watch this time, hmm? It’s always fun to see a Mudblood being defiled, even better when it is Potter’s little friend.”
“Of course, my lord,” he said with a nod. He bowed as his master stood up from his ornate chair.
“Come. Let us take time for tea and plans at Malfoy Manor. Lucius always has a good spread and I just love those little sandwiches. And you may tell more of your time with the girl.”
“Of course, my lord.”
The two men’s voices echoed in the hallway outside of the door. Seconds later, the loud cracks of their departure was heard in the house.
Outside, the wind mournfully howled, beating against the building before quieting down.
The cries of the gulls and sea rose and fell, naturally ignorant of the evil that was once in their presence.
The same way that we are all ignorant of evil until it is too late.
Quick note: The song that Hermione sings, “Down in a Hole” is by Alice in Chains. It can be found on their “Dirt” album, which was released in 1992.
Don’t let a muse go hungry! Review to save a muse!