In an Alternate Universe
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
47
Views:
32,447
Reviews:
417
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
47
Views:
32,447
Reviews:
417
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.
Nightmare
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 3 ~ Nightmare
”Where have they hidden him, Granger?” Voldemort lisped from his throne at the chestnut-haired Death Eater standing before him with her eyes lowered to the floor.
Around Hermione stood several steely eyed, masked Death Eaters awaiting their orders.
”I do not know, my Lord. Albus has taken him someplace and I have been unable to find out where,” the witch lied, knowing what it would cost her. Her Occlumency walls were firmly lowered in place. No matter what happened, Harry Potter was safe.
“Crucio!” the despot cried, training his wand on the witch who seized up and screamed horribly as the dread pain encompassed her body. The others watched unmoving.
After twenty seconds or so, Voldemort released her and she fell shuddering and convulsing to the floor. He watched her for several minutes until her seizures eased. Two male Death Eaters walked forward and pulled her to her feet, then withdrew, her face wet with tears and lip bleeding from being bitten as she shuddered from the curse.
Voldemort’s face twisted into a leering expression.
”You have been unable to find out many things, Granger. I am displeased. You know what that means, don’t you?” he hissed at her, crimson eyes glittering.
”Yes, my Lord,” Hermione replied, steeling herself for what was to come.
”Bring it in, Wormtailr,” Voldemort hissed to the fat wizard standing at the right of his throne.
”Right away my Lord,” he replied, rushing off, then returning with what looked like a large wooden block with rounded edges and attached circular metal pieces. He dragged it in front of the throne. Two female Death Eaters approached Hermione who stood still as they removed her clothing. Voldemort’s eyes washed over her body. It was unmarked for the most part. He preferred it that way.
”Lock her in,” he breathed.
A burly male Death Eater approached and roughly pushed Hermione to her knees and bent her over the wooden block. A neck restraint was locked into place, holding her head steady. Then he stretched her arms over the sides where there were wrist restraints and locked each hand into it. Then he pulled her hair away from her upper back, revealing it and the marks of the Dark Lord’s displeasure, scars branching upward and away from a thick center mass that went the length of her spine.
It looked like a tree.
Hermione lay there, her cheek pressed to the cool wood, her arms outstretched, the flesh of her back exposed. McNair entered with a short three tongued scourge, three sharp metal pieces on the end.
”You know what to do, McNair. Do not go outside the pattern. Give her more branches. Do not scar her any place else. When you are done, you may have her,” Voldemort hissed.
”Yes, my Lord. Thank you my Lord,” the executioner growled, looking down on the restrained witch.
”Now scream, Granger! Scream!” Voldemort hissed as the scourge was brought down expertly, ripping into her flesh.
Hermione obliged him as she always did, crying out in agony as she was whipped once again for her failure.
********************************
Professor Granger woke up with a start, drenched in perspiration. Another nightmare. Hers was a life of nightmares. Naked, she rolled out of bed and walked into her bathroom, pulling open her medicinal potions store and taking out a bottle of Dreamless Draught. Its contents were low. She would have to brew more tomorrow.
The witch opened it and tilted the bottle to her mouth, draining the potion and setting the empty bottle on the vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror.
”It’s never over, is it?” she asked her reflection, which looked back at her with haunted eyes. Then she turned, looking over her shoulder at the scars on her back, running over the trunk and branches. Yes, the Dark Mark was gone, but this mark . . . this would always remain to remind her of where she had been.
To remind everyone.
She used the loo, then returned to her four-poster bed, falling into it and rolling over to her stomach.
Sleep would come soon. And for a short while, blissful forgetfulness.
*************************************
A/N: Just something else that came to me this morning. Am about to start ANB.
*******************************
Chapter 3 ~ Nightmare
”Where have they hidden him, Granger?” Voldemort lisped from his throne at the chestnut-haired Death Eater standing before him with her eyes lowered to the floor.
Around Hermione stood several steely eyed, masked Death Eaters awaiting their orders.
”I do not know, my Lord. Albus has taken him someplace and I have been unable to find out where,” the witch lied, knowing what it would cost her. Her Occlumency walls were firmly lowered in place. No matter what happened, Harry Potter was safe.
“Crucio!” the despot cried, training his wand on the witch who seized up and screamed horribly as the dread pain encompassed her body. The others watched unmoving.
After twenty seconds or so, Voldemort released her and she fell shuddering and convulsing to the floor. He watched her for several minutes until her seizures eased. Two male Death Eaters walked forward and pulled her to her feet, then withdrew, her face wet with tears and lip bleeding from being bitten as she shuddered from the curse.
Voldemort’s face twisted into a leering expression.
”You have been unable to find out many things, Granger. I am displeased. You know what that means, don’t you?” he hissed at her, crimson eyes glittering.
”Yes, my Lord,” Hermione replied, steeling herself for what was to come.
”Bring it in, Wormtailr,” Voldemort hissed to the fat wizard standing at the right of his throne.
”Right away my Lord,” he replied, rushing off, then returning with what looked like a large wooden block with rounded edges and attached circular metal pieces. He dragged it in front of the throne. Two female Death Eaters approached Hermione who stood still as they removed her clothing. Voldemort’s eyes washed over her body. It was unmarked for the most part. He preferred it that way.
”Lock her in,” he breathed.
A burly male Death Eater approached and roughly pushed Hermione to her knees and bent her over the wooden block. A neck restraint was locked into place, holding her head steady. Then he stretched her arms over the sides where there were wrist restraints and locked each hand into it. Then he pulled her hair away from her upper back, revealing it and the marks of the Dark Lord’s displeasure, scars branching upward and away from a thick center mass that went the length of her spine.
It looked like a tree.
Hermione lay there, her cheek pressed to the cool wood, her arms outstretched, the flesh of her back exposed. McNair entered with a short three tongued scourge, three sharp metal pieces on the end.
”You know what to do, McNair. Do not go outside the pattern. Give her more branches. Do not scar her any place else. When you are done, you may have her,” Voldemort hissed.
”Yes, my Lord. Thank you my Lord,” the executioner growled, looking down on the restrained witch.
”Now scream, Granger! Scream!” Voldemort hissed as the scourge was brought down expertly, ripping into her flesh.
Hermione obliged him as she always did, crying out in agony as she was whipped once again for her failure.
********************************
Professor Granger woke up with a start, drenched in perspiration. Another nightmare. Hers was a life of nightmares. Naked, she rolled out of bed and walked into her bathroom, pulling open her medicinal potions store and taking out a bottle of Dreamless Draught. Its contents were low. She would have to brew more tomorrow.
The witch opened it and tilted the bottle to her mouth, draining the potion and setting the empty bottle on the vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror.
”It’s never over, is it?” she asked her reflection, which looked back at her with haunted eyes. Then she turned, looking over her shoulder at the scars on her back, running over the trunk and branches. Yes, the Dark Mark was gone, but this mark . . . this would always remain to remind her of where she had been.
To remind everyone.
She used the loo, then returned to her four-poster bed, falling into it and rolling over to her stomach.
Sleep would come soon. And for a short while, blissful forgetfulness.
*************************************
A/N: Just something else that came to me this morning. Am about to start ANB.