Cherries

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Story: Cherries
Author: bubblybabs
Email: bubbalilly@gmail.com
Beta: Periculum
Total Word Count: 8,134
Chapter 6 Edit Date: 11/15/08
Clean-up editing: 04/22/2009
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Chapter 6 – Worry and Fear

Previously:
Kreacher liked hearing his Master was angry with her. He agreed wholeheartedly that the girl was being selfish by ruining his fun. And that she needed more punishment. Oh, yes, she did.

A contented smile adorned Kreacher's face.

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The next day, once again in the late afternoon, Hermione rose to shower. She had to hold onto the wall in order to stiffly walk down the hallway, whimpering quietly more than once. And, as he had done the previous day when she was attempting to pass by, Master came to his doorway. When he grabbed her arm and slowly pulled her into a hug, she didn't resist; she kept her head down and brought her arms up so they were over her chest, then grabbed his shoulders with trembling fingers. He guided her into his room, removed her night clothes, and had her lie on his bed. He inspected her for bruises and was pleased when he found none, including none on her buttocks.

He decided Kreacher truly was a Spanking Master and that he could learn quite a lot from him about this new lifestyle he was delving into. Watching her getting spanked had excited him so much that he had masturbated while Kreacher worked her and came all over her ass, Kreacher not even pausing as he did so. Yes, he could definitely see spanking becoming a major component to their love-making.

Turning her onto her back and having her open her legs, he inspected her vagina and found she had a thick, foul-smelling discharge draining from it. He also found it was quite tender, red, and swollen. Now he knew why she felt unusually warm to him.

“I know you hurt, Kitten, you have a little bit of a vaginal infection. Let me make you feel better.”

She lay still and watched as Master saturated a strip of cloth with a thin, opaque liquid potion. Using his fingers, he gently inserted it into her vaginal canal, explaining again that she seemed to have an infection brewing there. Much to her relief, almost instantly, the nagging, burning itch she had been feeling began to abate and was completely gone after a few minutes. She heard him mutter under his breath that the incantation he had used before he put the cherries in was supposed to keep her from getting an infection and he wondered aloud what part of it he had said incorrectly.

He had her roll onto her tummy (she wouldn't lay flat, keeping herself up on her elbows, her head hanging down) and gently massaged a thick, pale yellow paste onto her bottom - she immediately felt the hot sting go away. Gingerly, he checked her anus, then put the paste onto his pinky finger and entered her carefully. He rubbed the paste in by slowly twisting his finger inside of her as her muscles spasmed around him. Again, much to her relief, the stinging pain went away. She lay there quietly for several minutes while he continued to rub more paste onto her buttocks, moving his hands along her so he could rub her upper thighs and lower back as well.

“Sirius, will, um, will that paste work on, on, um, on my boobies?”

His eyes became unfriendly for a moment as he stared at her quietly. “Darling, how are you supposed to address me when we are alone?”

“Uh, I'm supposed to call you Master?”

“Yes, I'm your Master and you are to address me as such.” He looked at her quietly, watching her take in his instructions, then looked at her breasts. “Your tits, they hurt that much, baby?”

She struggled to keep from crying as she shook her head yes. He helped her roll onto her back and inspected her breasts. He noted with dismay that her breasts were indeed very tender to touch, her nipples red and swollen. She pulled away when he made to touch them, her breath catching, a look of fear flitting across her face.

He put his face up to her neck and began kissing and whispering into her ear, “Okay, baby, I know they hurt, sweetie. Let me put the paste on and we'll see if it works. I'll be as gentle as I can. Tell me if this is better.”

He very carefully rubbed the paste onto her breasts, her hands coming up more than once to apprehensively still him as she breathed through the pain, tears in her eyes.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so much trouble. They feel a little better.”

A pause, then, spoken in a rush, “Master. Don't be mad at me, I forgot to call you that. I know you are my Master. Please. I'm so afraid and I hurt so much, Master.”

She couldn't believe she was acting the frightened rabbit. Or kitten as he seemed to be calling her now. She was his 'Kitten', as if she were his pet. She never, ever thought she'd be acting like this in a million years! In just a few days she had gone from a secure well-adjusted teen to a sniveling 'Kitten'. She was disgusted with herself.

He sat back quietly. He didn't like the tears in her eyes, or the trembling fear in her voice. He had spoken to Kreacher last night and learned of him tormenting her with her nipples. He didn't know why Kreacher felt the need to hurt her so much. And he now worried he had been too rough with her as well. Hell, he knew he was. What came over him to make him do some of those things to her? He seemed to go on automatic pilot at times, and he got disturbingly carried away when Kreacher was around. He had been so angry with her for ruining his time, never thinking that what he was doing to her was painful and frightening, even terrifying to her. And so degrading. And yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself as he punished her and allowed her to be punished. For some reason, he got a thrill when he made her crawl up the stairs on the leash, then forced her to suck them both off. He knew there was a very real danger that they could have been caught, he could tell she was terrified at the thought, and yet he made her do it anyway. In a way, the thought that they could get caught excited him more. He had been hoping, in a small way, that Remus would come out and join them though he had a feeling that Remus would have stopped his fun instead of joining in on it.

He never thought things would turn out this way when they experienced the Cherry Bowl Day. He wanted the submissive slave relationship with her, he didn't know why, but it excited him; he had thought she'd enjoy it as well, since the girls in the magazines obviously did. The thing was, he didn't want her to fear him - he wanted her to desire him. He was confused as to where to go with the whole situation. He wanted to reassure her, let her know he wasn't as bad as he seemed. And he wanted her for his own so badly that he couldn't let her go; he was sure he had ruined any chance of her being with him willingly. He briefly thought about handfasting with her, but decided they'd never let them. They, the pesky Dumbledore, Remus, and Moody. Not to mention the Weasley boy. None of them would let him have her as his wife. He looked at her, would SHE agree to it, he wondered? He didn't think she would, and he felt as if his heart would drop out of his chest at the thought of her not wanting him.

At long last, he felt true pity for her. He knew she needed time to deal with everything that had happened to her. He had meant to go slowly, but in his excitement he had gone too fast, way too fast. He was sure of it. The books talked about slowly introducing someone into this lifestyle and he had done too much in only two days. He caused fear when he shouldn't have. He felt compelled to continue on with the relationship, but was determined to do things right in the future so she'd enjoy it. He looked at her again. She needed time for her body to heal so she wouldn't dread his touch. He debated on what to do, then decided. He pushed her hair away from her face a little, traced his fingers down her jaw, turning her to face him and told her he would leave her be tonight so she could catch up on her sleep. He then had her sit up slightly and drink a potion, telling her she would be “feeling as good as new by tomorrow, Kitten.” He rubbed more paste onto her breasts, and he was pleased to see he could touch them with just the barest flinch in response. Her nipples weren't so red anymore and the swelling had subsided nicely.

She struggled to get up the nerve to speak. “Master?” She thought her voice sounded frightened and she felt shame color her face.

“Yes, baby?” He turned concerned eyes towards her when he heard her voice - it was so quiet with a little girl quality to it that he liked, but he could tell there was fear in it.

“Um, I, um, I mean, do I, why do I....?” She fretted because she could hear the whine in her voice.

“Hermione, just say what you want to say, baby. I promise I won't punish you.” Again, that feeling of power came over him.

Her words came out in a nervous rush, “Do I have to call you, Master? I mean, why do I? Why can't I call you Sirius? I'm trying to do what you want. I would have been a good girlfriend, honestly I would. Why are you doing this to me?”

She had such a pitiful sound to her voice, such a mixture of confusion and fear mingled with a little girl voice, that he struggled to find justification for their relationship as it was. When he replied, his voice was soft but firm.

“Because, baby, that's how it is. We've established our roles and we will continue with them. It's our secret and I expect you to keep it that way. The others wouldn't understand. I won't put up with you betraying me. Kreacher definitely would not tolerate your telling others, and he is one you should be careful of disobeying.”

Hermione lay on her back, much as she wanted to turn her back to him, contenting herself with turned her face away so he wouldn't see a tear fall, or see her lip tremble. She understood his threats very well. The feeling of entrapment enveloped her.

“Please, could you.............could you stop calling me Slave? Please? I like it when you call me Kitten..........Master.”

He thought about that a while, the pause so long she wondered if he had heard her.

“Baby, if I am angry with you then I will call you Slave. But only if you do something wrong. Otherwise I will call you my other pet names. I believe we have established who is Master and who is Slave in this relationship, so there won't be any more lessons in that regard unless I feel you are forgetting and need a reminder. You are my Slave, my Sex Slave,” he leaned down and kissed her neck, “my Kitten.” He sat back and put a hand on her breast. “You do realize that, don't you?” He watched her reaction carefully.

She slowly nodded her head, taking in a shaky breath and gave out a little sob.

His voice was quiet, yet stern, and commanding. “Speak to me when I ask you a question.”

After a pause, and with a quiet, trembly breath she responded, “Yes, sir, Master.”

Smiling, he bent over her so he lay across her chest and began to slowly kiss her neck once again. “Good, baby, as long as we understand each other.”

Another pause, then...

“Master?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I'd rather be your girlfriend, sir. Master.”

He paused before replying, his voice conveying to her that she was missing the obvious. “You are my girlfriend. And my Sex Slave.”

She was silent for a long time after he said that. Were there such relationships? Girlfriend sex slaves? Didn't you have respect for a girlfriend and none for a sex slave? She so wanted to talk to someone about this, but who could she confide in? She just didn't know what to think about this whole situation anymore, other than she didn't like being his Sex Slave. She wanted Ron now, but he was beyond her. She didn't think she could ever let someone else touch her again. She had no choice with her Masters, but she did have a choice with the others.

“Um, can it just be you and I? Just us together? Alone? Please, Master?”

“No, darling, no. You belong to Kreacher and I.”

She couldn't respond to him when he said no to her request. She had thought that the whole situation would be tolerable if he were her only Master. She so feared Master Kreacher and dreaded his presence. She simply continued to lie on the bed limply, letting him kiss her neck. Her body wasn't responding to him sexually today and she was ridiculously thankful for that. The paste he put on her and the potion he put in her worked quickly and she was feeling much improved.

“Thank you, Master. I feel so much better. May I go, now?”

He looked at her a few moments, then, instead of helping her up, he lay down next to her, pulling her up to him, giving her many words of encouragement to try to make her feel better about her status. For some reason, and she knew she shouldn't, she felt safe and secure with him at that moment and snuggled up to him, eventually relaxing enough to fall asleep. After a half hour of her sleeping on his shoulder, he roused her and told her she needed to go shower as she had planned, then try to behave as normally as possible. He helped her off of the bed, put her clothes back on, and let her out the door after giving her a long passionate kiss, his hands all over her. He also gave her a hug and an affectionate parting swat on the butt.

Hermione then showered, dressed, and went downstairs to eat a late lunch. Molly was quick to put more chicken noodle soup and an egg salad sandwich in front of her and encouraged every bite. Ginny began talking with her but she just didn't feel the energy or the inclination to enter into a conversation.

“Mum said she would take us to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get me some new robes because I'm growing so fast. One nice thing about being the only girl is you don't get too many hand-me-downs. Hey, do you know what classes you're taking this year?”

“Um, well, Potions and Transfiguration, the usual classes, I suppose.” Hermione found herself not wanting to talk. She found concentrating on what Ginny was saying and then having to formulate a reply taxing. She began to wish Ginny would go away. But, Sirius (I WILL call him Sirius in my head!) had told her to act normal, and talking with Ginny was considered normal.

“It's your O.W.L. year too, I just know you'll get all O's.” Ginny seemed to be too full of energy for Hermione to deal with. She couldn't wait for Ginny to go off somewhere and leave her alone.

“Yes, yes, I'll try. Where are Harry and Ron?” Ginny looked at her oddly, wondering why she sounded so distracted.

“Oh, mum sent them to the attic along with Fred and George to clean up a little. They've been up there quite a while now.”

Not long after, in came Harry and Ron, discussing what they had seen in the attic. When they saw her they immediately sat at the table, Ron grabbing half of Hermione's sandwich, buying him a smack on the hand from his mother.

“What? I'm hungry!”

“Hey, Hermione. How are you feeling? You've been out for nearly two days! Mrs. Weasley said you were sick.” They all turned to look at her, waiting for a reply.

“Yes, I know, Harry. My stomach was upset and I was really tired, that's all. I feel better now.”

He looked at her quietly, as if sensing something more was wrong. He noticed a slight change in her body language, and the inflection of her voice was different. She seemed, to him, to be trying to hide herself while in plain view, and her voice was slightly hesitant with a flattened affect; it did not have the vivacious energy he was used to. Ron, however, noticed nothing out of the ordinary and immediately engaged Harry in a discussion about Quidditch. Ginny had also given Hermione a look, but said nothing, just listened in as the boys talked animatedly about some of the new players on the Irish National Team. Hermione watched but didn't listen; she was lost in her own thoughts. Harry continued to give her questioning looks as he talked to Ron, clearly bothered by her demeanor.

A half hour later, Remus Lupin entered the room. When he noticed Hermione sitting at the table, he gave her a quiet smile and sat down next to her. He considered her behavior thoughtfully as she cringed away from him almost imperceptibly, his eyes full of concern. He glanced up at Molly and saw she noticed her reaction to his nearness. They looked at each other with the same uneasy expression.

“Hermione, how are you feeling this morning?” His voice was calm, his gaze watchful.

With a quiet, barely audible voice, she replied, “I'm fine, Professor. Thank you for asking.”

“Now, Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Remus? I'm now a friend, not your Professor. You do know I consider you a friend, right?” He turned his upper body towards her slightly, his hands holding a chipped Chudley Cannon's cup.

She sensed more than saw him shift his body which increased her nervousness. “Oh, sorry, R-Remus. I'll try to remember to call you that. And, yes, I think of you as a friend, too.”

She wouldn't look at him when she spoke, keeping her eyes glued to the table in front of her with her head down. He could smell the faint scent of sex on her and was sure, judging by her actions, that the unthinkable had happened – that she had been raped. In this house. But, by whom? He was loathe to think of who the perpetrator could be, knowing few people came to this house in the first place, and precious few who would have the opportunity to commit such an act. If she had suffered this atrocity, how to get her to tell them? And how to help her?

He had attempted an unobtrusive form of Legilimency on her, but found she was either a natural Occlumens or had practiced the art on her own. He wouldn't be surprised if she had indeed read about this obscure branch of magic and had learned its secrets. He pondered how deeply he would have to delve in order to find out what was wrong with her and, if she were being raped, who it was. He agonized over the fact that he suspected his oldest friend might be the one causing her harm.

A few moments later, Sirius breezed into the room. Remus watched as Hermione seemed to shrink into herself and unconsciously pull her shirt edges closer together as if she were cold. He considered the ramifications of her actions as his gaze slowly drifted between the two. If it was Sirius who was raping her, she would indeed have a reason for fear; he was a powerful wizard and could carry out any promise of threat he may have made to the girl. He looked up at Sirius, fixing his gaze upon the other man; for several moments they stared into each others eyes, almost challenging one another.

'Surely, Sirius wouldn't rape her. Surely not. I can't imagine him doing so. He was always reckless, but he was also always respectful with any girl he was around. He never acted aggressively, and Remus never heard of any rumors that Sirius had gotten out of hand. But Azkaban had changed his old friend, and none for the better. He had gone many years without a woman, had been forced to push that part of his life deep within himself in order to survive, and now he was free, but still a prisoner for the majority of his time in a home he hated. Frustration, both sexual and with life in general, must be at incredible levels for an intelligent, restless, young man such as him. He was amazed that Sirius had not had a major emotional outburst thus far, and, at times, he did indeed seem near breaking. In a sense, the adults who came to headquarters all anticipated having him go berserk at any point, and were unconsciously always ready to deal with that situation at a moment's notice. The kids, however, did not feel this sense of danger and were not constantly on guard. It was possible Sirius had begun a relationship with the girl against her will, probably thinking she wanted it as much as he did. Sadly, Remus was very aware that Sirius no longer had the perspective he once had. Azkaban ruined him in more ways than one.

Remus decided he'd have a talk with Albus about this situation so they could decide upon a plan of action. And he'd keep a better eye on Ginny, Molly, and Tonks. Especially Ginny, her age and lack of experience would work against her if Sirius truly were on the prowl.

He glanced down at Hermione, who was determinedly concentrating on her hands. He knew she had barely eaten for the last few days and took note of how pale she appeared.

“Hermione, you really need to eat a little more of that sandwich. You haven't eaten much and it's making you shaky. Look at how you're shaking.”

He went to gently put his hand on hers, but she pulled away with a quick intake of air before he could touch her. His hand froze in mid-air as he carefully considered what to do next, he then pulled it away from her slowly and put it on the table while glancing up at Molly.

“Oh, I'm, I'm not very hung-hungry right now. I ate a little. Seh-seh-see?”

“Do you still feel unwell?” His voice remained deceptively calm as he spoke, his insides in turmoil.

Her words came out quickly, slightly high-pitched, though hushed at the same time. “No, no, I'm fine. Really, I am, I'm fine. I, I think I'll go back to my room now. I'm, um, I'm still a bit tired.”

She glanced around the room, seeming to look at Sirius for the briefest of moments, then got up, paused for a fraction of a second, and went back to her room, head down, hands across her chest. And Sirius watched her the whole way, a slight look of displeasure in his eyes. And Remus saw the look. Sirius then sat down and began making small talk with the boys, carefully avoiding looking at his old friend.

“What's with her? She's acting awfully funny.”

“Dunno, Ron. Girls do that sometimes. She said she wasn't feeling good.” Harry wasn't quite convinced all was well, and decided he'd have a talk with Hermione later.

Sirius listened to the boys conversation about the girl, and he had definitely noticed how Hermione had pulled away from Remus. She was supposed to act normal, yet she was behaving like a frightened puppy! She would ruin everything if she wasn't careful. Didn't he tell her to be careful? He did NOT want to punish her and hoped nothing would come from her transgression that would force him to. He wondered what Remus was thinking. He could tell his friend was on to something, judging by his actions and the look he gave Molly. Could he smell that he had been at the girl? He knew Remus' sense of smell was far more acute than his, and his was more acute than most humans, due to his Animagus form. Perhaps Remus knew she had been sexually active, but there was no way he'd know who it was with unless she said something. He just had to make sure she kept her mouth shut.

Later that evening, Remus did indeed have a conversation with Albus as well as Molly, Arthur, Tonks, and Moody about his suspicions.

“But are you sure, Remus? Perhaps she's going through a phase. You know how teenagers are.”

“No Arthur, this isn't a phase. Something is definitely wrong. She's not her usual self and I'm positive I caught the scent of sex in her room and on her when she was at the table. I hesitated to say anything about her room because the scent of cherries was so overwhelming, but I'm sure about today. Molly, what do you think? You already voiced your worry yesterday that you thought her reactions outweighed her excuses.”

All eyes turned to Molly.

“Well, yes. She was absolutely distraught, frantic really. Came running into her bedroom crying after she had taken a shower. She told me it was her time of the month and she was just over-emotional. I've never seen her in such a state. When she was in the bathroom, I could hear her vomiting as well. And I just had a feeling something was terribly, terribly wrong. I don't know why, but I had a feeling, I don't know, call it a mother's instinct, but I had a feeling it had something to do with Sirius. She had to pass Sirius' room in order to go to and from the shower, and I'm wondering if she encountered him on the way back.”

“We will have to be very sure before we confront Sirius. He's had enough injustices in his life; I don't want him wrongly accused over something as serious as this.”

“I know, Albus. You know it's killing me to tell you all of this, I just have a hunch she's been raped and that Sirius, that he may have, that...” Remus had trouble finishing his sentence. His guilt over accusing his best friend was overwhelming.

“I realize this is difficult for you, Remus. Perhaps, Tonks, you are closest to Miss Ganger in age, you could talk to her and see if she will confide in you.” Albus looked at Tonks questioningly.

“Yes, I think you're right. She may talk to me. Girl talk,” Tonks agreed.

“Don't you think that perhaps she needs a mother figure, someone my age, to talk to?” Molly interjected.

“Sometimes, Molly, a girl will drop her guard with someone her own age and confess something very difficult that she won't mention to her mother.” Tonks smiled as she looked at Molly, knowing Molly's mothering instincts were being challenged.

“And, if she does blame him? What do we do then? We can't take him to Azkaban; we're hiding him for Merlin's sake!”

“I know, Arthur, I know. We'll have to decide if that bridge must be crossed.” Albus sat back thoughtfully, his fingers steepled.

“You won't have to worry about it. I'll take care of the problem for you.” This voice sounded like ground glass.

Albus turned and looked at Mad-eye closely. “Alaster, I won't have you taking the law into your own hands.”

“Albus, there are few things I have no tolerance for. One is following He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Another is rape. And raping a minor; that is the lowest.”

“I realize that, Alaster. But we must proceed with caution. Tonks, perhaps if you tried to engage Miss Granger in a conversation tomorrow? Good, then it's agreed. We'll wait until Tonks reports back her findings. And no one is to confront Sirius until we have more information. Is that understood? Good.”

The next day, and the next, and the next, Tonks tried to find out what was wrong with Hermione. But Hermione refused to say anything was amiss. Molly also tried. All they could do was watch and wait, hoping she would confide in someone. Even Harry, not knowing the worries of the adults, tried to find out why his friend had changed so drastically.

“Hermione? Can I talk with you?” Hermione looked up from the book she was trying to read to find Harry standing in the doorway, hands stuffed inside his pockets.

“Oh, okay, Harry. Um, sure, come in.” She put the book down and sat up straighter on her bed while also looking down to make sure her shirt was decently covering her. She never wore anything that showed cleavage anymore, and she checked herself constantly to make sure her clothes hadn't shifted.

Harry closed the door (he noticed how she immediately brought her legs up and put her arms around her knees when he did that), then ambled towards the bed, intending to sit down next to her as he had always done. She tensed noticeably, making him change his mind at the last minute; he sat in the chair next to her bed as she regarded him apprehensively. They sat and looked at each other for a few moments as he tried to gather his thoughts, not sure how to start.

“Hermione, I know something is really wrong. Something has happened to make you jumpy and afraid. I want to help you with whatever it is that's bothering you.”

He saw her face change into an expression he wasn't sure he knew, but the change was fleeting. She took in a deep breath and her face set into one of forced calm.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. Everything is fine. Just fine. First Tonks, then Mrs. Weasley, and now you. I'm telling you, I'm fine. Just fine.”

“Hermione, look at me. No, really, look at me. It's Harry. Your best friend, Harry. We've known each other for five years now, we see each other almost every day. I know something is wrong. What is it?” He sat forward in the chair, putting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his steepled fingers, his eyes never leaving her face.

“There's nothing wrong, Harry! Would you all just leave me alone!” She got up in a huff and began to pace the room, her hair flying about her face with each pivot.

“I wish all of you would leave me alone!” She was leaning forward, her finger pointing at him accusingly. “There's nothing wrong! Why won't anyone believe me!” In a huff, she flopped down on the bed again, resuming her protective position.

“Hermione, look at how you're acting. You hardly eat anymore, you're losing weight. You never look like you've slept, look at the circles under your eyes! You're alone all the time, and when you are with us, you're silent and act like you're a million miles away. We're all worried about you. Why won't you tell one of us what's wrong so we can help you?”

“I. Do. Not. Need. Any. Help. I. Am. Fine.” Harry had never heard her speak to anyone through clenched teeth with such vehemence before. He leaned forward and put his hand on her arm, and found himself completely unprepared for the ferocity of her reaction at his touch.

Hermione felt his hand on her arm and she felt the warmth of it seep into her skin. She did not want that warmth. She did not want to be touched. Touching wasn't always good anymore and her mind instantly registered the warmth as an unwanted and alien presence that must be dealt with immediately. Without warning she shrieked, threw her arms up while slapping his hand away, then crawled backwards on the bed away from Harry until she fell off the end and continued to crawl until she hit the wall. Her arms came up immediately to protect herself. Her shuddering and panicked gasps rang through the air. Her eyes, wide and fearful, looked about the room for danger. As soon as she began to react, her mind went to thoughts of Master Kreacher watching her and coming to punish her. She really did not want to be punished!

Harry immediately stood up in alarm when she shrieked and slapped him, goose bumps coming up on his skin as he watched Hermione's panic. He hesitated before coming forward slowly and cautiously until he was close enough to kneel down in front of her. He wasn't sure how she'd respond to him touching her again so he refrained, instead opting to talk to her calmly.

“Hermione?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Hermione? What's wrong? I'm not going to hurt you. Why did you pull away from me like that? Hermione? Hermione!”

She sat there for several minutes, tears in her eyes as she squeezed them shut, her lower lip trembling, her struggles to slow her breathing coming out in near sobs. How was she going to tell him nothing was wrong NOW? He'd never believe her! Her thoughts raced through her head as she tried to calm herself.

'Why did I react that way? He was only touching my arm! He wasn't punishing me! Harry's not my Master, he won't punish me like they will. Oh, how do I get him to go away and leave me alone? I just want to be alone. Oh, *please* say Master Kreacher didn't witness my reaction to Harry touching me! I'll be in so much trouble!'

“Hermione?” She heard his whispered voice through her haze of panic and she looked up at him quietly. She decided it was time for denial.

“I'm fine, Harry. Really, I am.” Again, her voice was flat, unemotional.

“Hermione! Come on! What the hell just happened here? You freaked out! Don't tell me you're fine! You aren't fine!”

He reached forward to touch her arm again, and he saw her struggle to keep still, to keep from pulling away from him. She began to grit her teeth with the effort.

“I”m fine, Harry. Please, leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

“Hermione, who's hurting you? Is someone hurting you?”

Her eyes flew to his face. Harry had asked the question the adults were so reluctant to bring up. They were easy to talk around and smooth things over, but Harry wasn't going to be so easily put off.

Shakily, she answered him while slowly shaking her head back and forth. “No, no, of course not! I'm just jumpy over O.W.L.'s is all! I'm fine, really I am!” With that, she pulled herself together and stood up. She made ready to walk away from him when he stopped her by putting his arms on either side of her, his hands on the wall. He slowly moved his face close to hers, noticing how she frantically brought her arms up to cover her breasts and tried to push herself back further into the wall while whimpering quietly.

“Hermione. You are NOT all right. You are NOT fine! Tell me what's wrong! I'm not leaving until I find out who's hurting you!”

“No, no, no one is hurting me. Honest, Harry!”

“Hermione, don't lie to me. I have enough of that with the adults. But, don't you dare lie to me! I know someone is hurting you. It's written all over you. Your speech, your gestures, your body language. Please, Hermione, please confide in me. You know I'll do everything I can to help you.”

He watched her face intently. He wanted so much to grab her and pull her into a big protective hug and never let her go. He was convinced someone was hurting her, but how? What were they doing to her? The only thing he could think of was rape. His mind whirled around all the males who visited the household – Ron, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fred, George, Sirius, Remus, Dung, Professor Dumbledore, Snape.... Snape! Surely not! But he was the only one he could think of that would do such a terrible thing to a young, innocent girl such as Hermione.

“Hermione, who's been touching you? Has someone raped you? Tell me so I can help you!”

Hermione had begun to gasp raggedly, her eyes widening once again, her body shrinking away from him as she began to slide down the wall.

Her voice came out in a high-pitched, barely audible squeak. “Please, Harry. Please let me go. Please. Don't loom over me like that. You're frightening me!”

Harry immediately stood up and put his arms down. He didn't back away though, and Hermione pushed past him to stand on the other side of the room. He turned to face her.

“Hermione. Talk to me. I can't help you if you don't tell me who's hurting you.”

“Harry, what makes you think someone is hurting me? R-r-raping muh-me? Because I reacted adversely to your touching me? What makes you an expert on peoples reactions? Honestly, Harry. I'm fine! It's just nerves! Really! I *am* fine!” She threw herself down on the chair this time, crossing her legs and her arms while looking away from him; her leg bouncing in irritation.

Harry walked over to her and bent down on one knee, putting his hands on her rocking leg, effectively stopping its movement immediately. He waited for her to look at him before he spoke quietly.

“Hermione. I don't know what's wrong, but I see you are scared. I don't want my best friend scared all the time, Hermione. And, that's what you are. Scared all the time. Hermione, tell me, please tell me what's wrong. Please.”

She looked in his eyes and suddenly wanted to grab him and tell him everything. She wanted him to hug her and protect her. She knew he would if he could. But his Godfather was powerful. And she feared he'd hurt Harry to protect his property. She was his property now. She belonged to Master Sirius and Master Kreacher. A tear fell from her eye when she thought of this. A house elf owned her, and she knew Master Kreacher would definitely hurt Harry.

Harry thought he had finally gotten through to her. He saw her shoulders slump down slightly, her tenseness loosen a little. Then he saw the tear fall. He sensed she was going to start crying and tell him everything. He pulled her from the chair onto the floor and hugged her tightly.

“Hermione, please. Please, tell me what's wrong. I know something is wrong. Who's hurting you? There are enough people here to protect you from whoever it is. Please confide in me, I only want to help you. Please!”

Hermione sat quietly in his arms as he held her, but she couldn't relax completely. Her mind was on one thing: Master Kreacher. 'Where is Master Kreacher? Is he watching right now? Will I be punished? Will he hurt Harry?'

She pulled back from Harry and wiped away her tears; her eyes darted fearfully about the room.

“Harry, I'm fine. It's just hormones, girl stuff. I'm fine. Please. I'm fine. Please, just go Harry. Just go. Leave me alone.”

Try as he might, Harry could get nothing more out of her. He tried for over two hours, but she wouldn't budge from her story. She steadfastly denied anything was wrong.

Harry finally left her in defeat. He desperately needed to talk with someone about this. His first thought was his Godfather.

“Sirius? I need to talk to you about something.”

Harry had waited until his Godfather was alone so they could talk in private. He figured if anyone would have an idea of what to do, he would.

“Of course, Harry. Is something wrong?” They were in the living room. Sirius sat down on the couch and motioned for Harry to sit next to him.

“Well, yeah. It's Hermione. Somethings wrong with her and she won't tell anyone what it is.”

Sirius hesitated briefly before replying. “What makes you think something is wrong? She seems fine to me.”

“Sirius, she's so jumpy! And she's quiet! She's usually really talkative. Well, except when she's studying, but she's not doing that anymore. Haven't you noticed that she's not reading her school books? She always has them memorized the week she gets them!”

“Harry, Harry, calm down! She's an adolescent girl, Harry. Maybe she has a boy on her mind that she keeps romanticizing about. Girls tend to daydream and become forgetful when they are in love.”

“No, she never mentioned a boy. I talked to her earlier today and she flipped out when I touched her! I mean, she went nuts. I've never seen her like that. Never.”

“When you say touched her, where did you touch her?” Sirius felt a sudden stab of protective jealousy hit him as he eyed the boy in front of him suspiciously.

“I touched her arm. I laid my hand down on her arm and she acted as if she were going to crawl out of her skin. It was scary, really. To see her act like that.”

“You only touched her arm? That's all?” Sirius gestured towards Harry's arm.

“Yeah, just her arm. Why?” Harry demonstrated touching Sirius' arm as he had done to Hermione.

“Nothing. Nothing. You touched her arm, then what did she do?”

“She slapped my arm away and crawled backwards until she hit the wall. Then she covered herself up and started crying.”

“Crying, huh? Does she have a boyfriend at home?” Sirius was tapping his finger on his chin, brows furrowed, looking as if he were thinking hard on a solution.

“No, I don't think she has a boyfriend at home. What are you getting at?”

“Maybe she's ready for more than he is and he insulted her in some way. Girls her age are very sensitive about their looks, their weight, stuff like that.”

“No, Sirius. If you had seen her, her face, how she reacted. It wasn't just something someone said to her. Sirius, I'm worried someone may have hurt her more than that.”

“How so?” Sirius readjusted himself on the couch, putting his arm on the back and crossing his leg.

“Do you think that maybe someone raped her? Or something as bad as that? I can't think of anything worse, well, that could have happened to her.” Harry was thinking that seeing Cedric dead in an unknown cemetery with Voldemort trying to kill you while surrounded by his Death Eaters was worse than rape. But, since Hermione hadn't experienced anything so traumatic, rape was the only thing that came to mind as a worse case scenario for her. “Isn't rape something girls dread?” He looked at Sirius, real worry on his face.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “Yes, girls, all women, do dread rape. For virginal girls it's worse because they know there will be pain. Women dread it because it's an act of power against them, making them feel powerless and afraid for their safety. Some men get off on that feeling of power.”

“She's acting awfully afraid, Sirius. And she doesn't want to be touched by anyone. Did you see how she acted towards Remus earlier today?”

“Yes, I did notice that. So, if you think she's being raped, who do think is the culprit?” Sirius watched Harry closely.

Harry spoke in a rush, “I've been thinking about that. What do you think about Snape? He's a Death Eater, we all know it. And you know the things they do to Muggles and Muggle-borns. I bet he wouldn't think twice about grabbing her for fun.”

“Snivellus, huh?” Sirius was grateful for Harry giving him an idea on who to blame if he was forced into a corner on the subject. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully while nodding his head. “That idea has merit.”

Harry sat up straighter and leaned in towards Sirius. “Yes! I thought so, too! But, what do we do about it? She won't confess as to who's hurting her, she won't even admit something is wrong.”

“First thing is not to say anything to anyone.”

“What! We have to! What if he's still doing it to her!?” Harry had jumped up from the couch in alarm and began pacing.

Sirius looked behind him at the doorway, making sure no one was eavesdropping. He then turned to back to Harry, a very serious look on his face. “Listen, Harry. We have to be careful. Severus has Albus wrapped around his little finger. Everyone thinks he's a big hero for what he's doing behind the scenes. You don't know everything yet, and I can't divulge it. But, believe me when I tell you that you can't just go accusing him of something this serious. We have to watch and wait. Watch her for any signs, see if you can keep talking to her, maybe she'll break down and tell you everything. But you have to be subtle. You know, play the friend who will be there no matter what. Don't pester her, just listen. Ask her questions that aren't too direct. You keep an eye on her. I'll keep an eye on Snivellus.”

Harry stood still, a look of uncertainty on his face. “You think that's what we should do? Just watch and wait?”

“Yes.” Sirius grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back down onto the couch so he was sitting next to him again, “I'm serious about how careful you have to be.”

“But, what if we talked to Remus? We could....”

Sirius held his hand up as if warding off Harry's words. “No. No, don't talk to anyone else about this. The fewer people who know your suspicions, the less chance there is of it getting back to Snape. Or Dumbledore. You think Remus won't go talk to Albus? And Albus trusts Snape implicitly, he's said so many times. If Snivellus gets wind someone suspects him, you don't know what he'd do to Hermione to keep her quiet.”

Harry gave a small whistle under his breath, his eyes looked down as he contemplated what Sirius had just told him. “I never thought of that. Wow. OK, Sirius. I'll keep an eye on Hermione.”

“Good, and report back to me anything she tells you. Anything. Something may seem unimportant to you but it may be an important clue I can spot. Got it?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Sirius. I appreciate this. I'm glad I talked to you about this.”

With a solemn look on his face, Sirius looked Harry in the eye as he clapped him on the shoulder. “So am I, Harry, so am I.”

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Authors notes, you may freely skip this:

Just links:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_Trauma_Syndrome
http://www.hopeforhealing.org/
http://safersm.org/SaferSM/SaferSMPamphlet.html

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