Broken

There were sounds. Strange sounds. Only she had heard them before, so they shouldn’t sound so foreign. There was a constant tic, tic, tic. Water drops hitting something.

Then the sounds changed. There were voices, and metal hitting metal, and then the door to her cell sliding open. She couldn’t see anything, but she could almost feel the steps getting closer as the voices laughed and called for her.

Suddenly magic swirled the air, and the cold shackles around her wrists pulled her to her feet. There was someone in front of her, and someone else behind her. She was still blinded by their magic, but she didn’t care. Feeling them and hearing them was bad enough. She didn’t need to see them, too.

There were lips by her neck, and a rasped voice whispered almost sweetly into her ear, “Crucio.”

She screamed and twisted as the curse ran through her body, her back arching as the pain made her lose control of her muscles. But even through the pain she could still feel the hands on her hips, their bodies against her. The sound of the same voice murmuring “You’ll love this, Little One,” was audible even through her screams, and when she felt his hands on her thighs, parting them, she screamed even louder. She knew what was going to happen, and, worse yet, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop them. There never was.

But then the pain was gone, and there were hands on her shoulders, shaking her, and when she opened her eyes, there was light. She could still feel their hands on her body, but they weren’t there any more.

“It’s okay,” another voice was saying softly. “It was just a dream, you’re safe.”

She pushed away from the hands and scrambled off the bed, sitting against a wall, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her head between them, trying to shut everything out. It had been a dream, she was awake now, but she still felt the pain in her body as if they had lifted the Cruciatus Curse only moments ago, still felt their dirty hands on her, scratching, bruising, and still felt him calling her Little One as he pushed himself inside of her.

“It was just a nightmare,” Sirius said, from somewhere close beside her. She lifted her head enough to peek around her. Sirius was sitting a few feet away, careful to keep his distance. More reassuring words left his lips when their eyes met, but unlike before, they weren’t enough to make her feel better.

“Come,” he said after a few moments, “Let’s go get some coffee.” When she didn’t move he smiled and stood up. “Tell you what, I’ll get everything ready, and you can come down to the kitchen when you feel like it, okay?”

Hermione didn’t follow him right away. She stayed where she was for a long time, trying to will her heart to calm down, and her brain to forget the dream. But when she finally walked downstairs he was waiting for her, a steaming cup of coffee in front of the chair she had used before. He didn’t say anything as she walked into the kitchen and sat down, and she enjoyed the silence as she sipped the coffee.

“I remember the first few months after I escaped Azkaban,” he murmured, as he started on his second cup. “Every time I fell asleep I would dream I was still there. I dreamed about the Dementors, and the torture, and when I woke up I was never sure what was real and what was dream.” She kept her eyes on her cup as she listened to him, trying to hide her surprise at what he was saying. “I remember dreaming they found me and took me back to the prison, and I woke up terrified every single time.”

There was bitterness in his voice as he spoke, a bitterness she had never heard from him before. She remembered him after they’d first met, after he’d escaped Azkaban. She remembered him acting reckless, and sometimes immature, but never afraid, or broken, never as if he’d gone through something similar to what she had.

“You will have nightmares for a long time,” he said, and when she finally looked at him he was looking away, his eyes glazed over, as if he was lost in his own memories of hell. “At first they will come every night, and you’ll try to stay awake for as long as you can, only to avoid the memories and the fear they bring. Then they will come every other night, then every other week, until one day they will be the exception, and not the rule.” He looked at her now, and his smile was a sad one. “They’ll never completely go away, you can’t erase your past, and you can’t stop it from haunting you in your dreams, but it will get better, and one day you won’t be afraid of falling asleep any more.”

“I didn’t know that you…” she started, but she couldn’t put it into words. How could she ask him about what he had been through, when she knew how painful the memories could be?

“They don’t like Death Eaters in Azkaban,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “They like traitors even less.”

“But you aren’t a-”

“That doesn’t really matter when you’re there. More coffee?” he suddenly asked, and she wasn’t sure whether he was trying to change the subject or had just realised she had finished her cup. Either way, she didn’t push.

“Yes, please,” she simply muttered, moving the cup towards him when he reached forward, watching him pour the still hot liquid into it and then cradling the cup between her hands, enjoying the warmth.

“I know you said you would only stay here tonight,” he suddenly said, “but there’s more than enough room, if you’d rather stay longer. I certainly don’t mind the company.”

She had only agreed to stay there that night because she had nowhere else to go. The house she’d once shared with Harry was now occupied by his wife, and her aunt’s family lived in her parents’ house. But where could she go? She had no money to get a place of her own, or even pay for a hotel, not that she could’ve gone to one; the thought of being on her own, surrounded by so many strangers, in a place where they could find her… But could she really take Sirius’ offer? Could she stay there, at least temporarily?

“It’s okay,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts. “You don’t have to make a decision now. Just know that you can stay here for as long as you want. The house is big enough that you can be on your own if you want to. Wouldn’t even have to see me,” he said, with a smile, and suddenly all the pain, and the memories, and the fear was gone from his expression, just like that. How could he do it? How could he hide all those emotions behind a smile?

They fell silent again, as she finished the second cup of coffee. For some reason her stomach seemed to be getting used to the change in diet fast enough.

“I know you don’t like potions, but I have a few vials of Dreamless Potion. They’re in the cupboard by the stairs, if you want to take some.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, although she didn’t think she would take them.

Sirius reached inside his pocket and pulled out a wand. “Harry left this for you before leaving. He thought you might need it.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing her old wand, and she instantly reached forward, her fingers freezing an inch from it. She had lost her wand the night they had attacked them. All her years of training, all the magic she had learnt, the spells she had memorised, hadn’t been enough to stop them from taking her. Sirius noticed her hesitation and laid the wand on the table. Staring at it, a part of her wondered why Harry had kept it all these years.

She moved her hand away, wrapped it around the mug and went back to staring at the coffee, trying not to think and failing miserably. But among all the thoughts that plagued her, one slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

“Did you meet my parents?”

“I…” Sirius seemed startled by the question, but quickly recovered. “I met them twice, after I got back from…” he hesitated again before saying, “from the veil.”

“Were they okay?”

He was silent for a few moments, and then a sad smile twisted his lips. “What happened to you… it wasn’t easy for them. But they loved you very much, and they were sure you were still alive. They never lost hope, even when everyone else seemed to.” He fell silent again, and his expression was uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure he should say anything else. “I only spoke to your mother once. She said she remembered you telling her about me, about how we met, and how you saved me. She said she was proud of you, that you always were strong and brave, and that you would hold on, that they would find you and bring you back home.”

“I wish I could have seen them one more time,” she whispered, almost to herself, as she took a deep breath and tried not to cry. “I’m so tired of crying,” she said, when a single tear rolled down her cheek. She took a deep, shaky breath, not sure why she was saying all this, but unable to stop herself now that she had started. “I’m so tired of feeling weak. In all the years that they…in all the time I was gone, I never cried. Not once. Even with everything they did, I didn’t break, I didn’t give in. I never stopped fighting. And now I’m free, and I feel so lost. I’m so scared all the time…I don’t want to be scared any more.”

“You don’t have to. You’re safe here.”

She gave him a sad smile as she said, “I wish I could believe you.”