how do you explain to someone

ok I don\'t own her or anyone mentioned in here.
~~ I wrote this to kind of start letting go of my own rape from 2 years ago. If it seems like it was writen with a feeling of distachment than that\'s why. it\'s really only Hermione. It takes place sometime after \"The Dark Lord\" is dead. You can riticule all you like because I don\'t care what you think about it. But I would love to hear valid comments too. Anyways on with the show!

Oh this more then likely be a one chapter store depending on if I can find the courage or inspiration to right more. Luv Ya.

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How do you explain to someone what it’s like to be raped? That no matter what you do, a part of your soul is stolen from you forever. I guess one way to explain it would be when you’re a virgin and you give yourself up, no matter how bad or good it was, you’ve given that person part of yourself. But when its rape it’s much worse, especially when it happens to you and you’re still a virgin. No matter what you do you can’t forget it, and when people find out they pity you.

Can you imagine me, head girl (no sick puns now), Hermione Granger being raped? The worst part about it for me though was the fact that I didn’t fight back. I just let that abomination of a human being do what he wanted to do to me, well him and his friends. I thought that if I was good enough and didn’t say anything scream or cry that they would just let me go. They were the kinds that got of on the pain, screaming and crying of their victims. It gave them the feeling of power I guess, but you would think that the act of raping would be enough to do that.

I always thought that I would fight back, scream like hell, do anything to discourage an attacker. After all I didn’t go to all those self-defense for nothing. I guess there is a difference between practicing and actually doing, well isn’t that a stupid statement coming from me. I’m the smartest witch in the history of my school, I’ve been through a war of light and dark, and I’m one of the most popular pin-ups in the wizarding world under the age of 25. Everything I do, or did, I practiced it first to make sure I could do it when it came time. But this time when push came to shove my skills and my Gryffindor courage went flying out the fucking door.

I had been walking around muggle London. I was looking for the perfect presents for Ron and Harry. They had been through so much since the end of 5th year and now that it was finally over it was time for them to have fun. My parents had asked me if I wanted to finally go to Disney world in America. Stupid question if you ask me, of course I wanted to go! But anyways my parents offered to have Ron and Harry come along with us, another stupid question if you were to ask me…of course they wanted to come! As I said I was shopping for a present for the two of them, something I could give them when we were in America. I had gone to a jeweler’s shop that made the best of the best when it came down to jewelry. I decided to have rings made for the three of us, to commemorate our friendship and the death of Vold-- the Dark Lord. I was about two blocks from my home when I was jumped from behind. I was too shocked to dothinthing, so it was simple for them to take me to a secluded ally. It was extremely dark. I knew my parents would be worried if I didn’t get home soon.

In the alley the told me not to look at them, me being stupid did what they wanted. I at first thought they might be wizards, but ruled that out when they used the muggle methods of blindfolding me and removing my worn out jeans and my beloved My Little Pony tank top. They made sure that none of my outer clothes were torn, I guess so I could walk out of the god for saken alley like nothing had happened. They touched and toyed with my breasts, which ended up being bruised for over a week. The licked me up and down putting their tongues and fingers in place they shouldn’t have been with out my wanting. I’m sure if the situation had been different, like if it had been Ron doing such to me then I would have liked it to some degree. But I was horrified, but I kept repeating to myself just let them do what they want and then they will leave you alone and you can run home. Finally it came time for them to penetrate and soil my body, soul, and sprit. The pain was so bad, even if I would have aloud myself to scream I couldn’t have found my voice to. Each joke of a gentleman took his turn taking me in their own different ways. It kept getting harder and harder, it got to the point where I knew the blood I was bleeding wasn’t from me being virgin, and I was scared. All this time I hadn’t tried to fight, scream, or cried and I guess that’s what they wanted from me. I had been biting my lips and cheeks so hard that there was more blood then saliva in my mouth. One bloke sd tod to me while he pounded me harder then a boxer against his adversary that things were going to keep getting worse for me until they could see me squirm. I think that’s what made me crake; I started weeping silently, only to have it become a howl… the only expression of my grief that I could think of. My invaders laughed like it was the funniest thing that they had ever seen. With that they got themselves back together and left me their shivering and crying my heart out in the alley. I don’t know how long I waited but, to me it seemed like a lifetime and a half, when I thought the cost was clear I undid the blindfold and quickly dressed myself; only to find that my bra and thong were gone, but that was the least of my worries. When my head was collected enough I ran like those who had been in Sodom and Gomorrah.

When I finally reached my house I found no one home. I looked around only to find a note from my mom and dad saying that they decided to go uptown for dinner and dancing and wouldn’t be home till around midnight. Since the note was still on the table I figured that that it wasn’t past midnight. I went to my room and got my wand to make the bleeding stop, and get out of my clothes. With that done I decided I needed a shower. I felt so unclean, and watching the dirt from the alley floor go down the drain didn’t help my feelings of uncleanness disappear. I scrubbed my skin so raw that little welts were left behind. I didn’t know what to do; I just felt I couldn’t get clean. I sank to the floor of my shower and cried again letting the water take my tears with it. When I couldn’t cry anymore I got out of the shower to go to bed. But before I turned in I remembered my pairing knife from potions. I don’t know what came over me, I just started slicing away at my wrists and my legs…I almost went for my neck only to remember that it would be too noticeable. I don’t know what made me feel better, the self inflicted pain that took the pain from the rape away for a short time, or seeing my blood spill out of my veins. It seemed to be the only way to clean myself of the dirtiness. To clean myself from within meant to clean myself on the outside too.

If only I could tell someone. But would they understand what I feel and what I went through? Or would they place the blame solely on me. On what I was wearing, or that fact that I didn’t fight back. Or would I get pity for them? Have them telling me how sorry they are and if there was anything they could do to help to let them know. The only thing that they could possibly do is shot themselves in the foot to understand only diminutive amount of the pain I have gone through. Or they could learn what it’s like not to want to close your eyes at night or go anywhere alone or after dark. What about the self hatred? Can they even begin to understand the magnitude of it when looking at a picture of them selves or when they chanced a look in a mirror? No I don’t think they will ever begin to know what it’s like to go through a true living hell… and make it to the other side. And to the Gods I pray no one else will ever have to know what it’s like to die but still be alive.