A/N: This is a very Hermionecentric story and contains very graphic depictions of rape. It also covers sensitive topic issues such as sexual assault, and substance abuse. You have been warned. Also, I'm revising each of these chapters. Sorry if you're getting annoying notifications. I wasn't feeling the story first time around so I'm adding in a lot of things, and fixing up the holes and loose ends to the best of my ability. Thank y'all for your patience with this!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I'm poor.
Decorated nick knacks tastefully displayed over shelves and freshly painted walls accentuated by the still pictures of what seemed to be a normal muggle family adorned the walls of a quaint country home. Any onlooker would have passed 1202 Tadworth Drive without a second thought. The air hung heavy under the smiling faces in the frames, where the Granger family sat on expensive furniture, painting a very different portrait.
A somewhat older woman with somewhat tamed bushy blonde hair and green eyes, who would have been much more attractive had her face not been flushed with her fourth drink that night. Mrs. Granger was silently drinking scotch with small sips in quick succession as her dismayed husband was sorrowfully breaking very terrible news to the couple's teenage daughter.
Hermione's heart sunk to her stomach. Her knuckles were white from the grip she had on her chair. When her parents both came to her and asked to speak in the sitting room, Hermione had a very ominous feeling as to what this may be about.
"Hermione... we know we said we wouldn't bring him back here when you left for your fourth year. We know how bad things were then. You have to understand, though. He has no where to go and he's my child as much as you are." Said a middle aged man with graying brown hair and brown eyes, confirming his daughters fears.
"He's 25, dad." Hermione croaked, she didn't have much control over her voice. She very much doubted her protests would change her parent's minds.
"Darling, he's trying to get his life back on track. He's just been released from a half way house. His mother killed herself a few months back. Your mother and I talked about it, and it will probably be for a year as he saves up for his own place." Continued Mr. Granger who was searching his mind for rationalizations for his daughter, but coming up short.
Hermione couldn't even speak. Crookshanks sat in her lap purring in futile attempts to comfort his distressed owner. He looked upon her as if to figure out how to feel himself. Hermione's breath quickened and her ears buzzed. Her expression was not lost on her parents.
"Poppet, I understand how you feel," her father started carefully, and he awkwardly tried to place a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "This will not be like the last few times, I promise. I've installed locks on your doors," her father haphazardly reassured.
Hermione scoffed, shrugging her father's hand off of her and jumping from her seat which skidded roughly on the wooden floor underneath it. Crookshanks jumped off her lap and made a bee line towards her bedroom.
"You can't possibly think, I'm going to be enduring this again! You promised, dad! You promised me you would only have him back home when I can stay with the Weasley's! You said after he turned 18 he wouldn't even be back here!" Hermione's fingers rushed to her eyes and frantically wiped away her tears. She felt almost certain she was beginning to have a heart attack.
"Hermione, please don't start," her mother interjected as if her daughter were complaining about being told to do chores. "He has no where to go. What do you expect us to do? Your father has an obligation to both of you. It's just out of our hands!" Hermione's mother paused to take a gulp of her drink. She closed her eyes and massaged her hands over them, stopping at her scalp grabbing handfuls of hair.
"Don't go making this anymore difficult for us. I'm sure the Weasley's will invite you over soon, you know they will. Just stick it out until then. It won't be that bad. If you had just gotten an owl in your fourth year instead of that bloody cat, you would be able to ask them yourself, you know." Said her mother bitterly, Hermione chose to ignore that last bit.
"But you know! You know what happens! You know how sick he is! Why-"
"Stop it!" Hermione's mother interrupted banging her glass on the table. "We're not discussing this anymore, what else do you want us to do, Hermione? Robert will be here in the morning. You will only be here for a few weeks, if that. His mother killed herself, he has no where to go. He has no other family, like I said, we had no other choice. Don't you think it would rise suspicions if we turned away your father's own son?" Her mother said, Hermione's jaw fell open.
"You could have taken him in or you could have turned him away! Are you seriously still more worried of what your colleagues might think, than your own biological daughter?!" Hermione said her voice steadily raising to the point of yelling.
Hermione's mum stood up, "don't you EVER take that tone with me! Do you think you're the only one who has to make sacrifices!? You get to go away for most of the year, Hermione. We are the one's stuck here dealing with this," she shouted gesturing between herself and Hermione's father. "When you're out flying on broomsticks and making love potions with your friends, we're here dealing with him. Do you think we want to be here?"
Hermione bit her tongue and breathed heavily through her nostrils to keep the barrage of fury from spilling from her mouth. She knew her parent's were not going to be reasoned with, but she still wanted to make her feelings known. Accustomed to her mother's dismissal of the severity of her daughters situation, and her father's denial, the fact that she was outright being belittled and yelled at for protesting her brother living in her home set a fire of rage off inside of her.
"You have no idea what you're talking about! You have no idea how hard I work in school, or what I go through at Hogwarts! I don't need this, mum!" Her voice steadily gaining volume to rival her mother's shouting.
"OH, SO YOU THINK I DO?! LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE!" Hermione's mother flung her arm to gesture around their home. She finished her drink off and inhaled deeply. She paused to calm herself dawn while her daughter was conjuring more verbal ammunition in her head to quail her mother's pathetic attempts at shifting the blame onto her.
"We try to give you everything. We pay for all of those books, even after that one from your third year tried to bite me! We fund everything you need for that school we're not even allowed to see! Why can't you just appreciate what we do for you, Hermione? We let you spend all summer with the Weasley's." Hermione stayed silent and glared daggers at her mother, who seemed quite more offended.
"We've taken you on ski trips for Chrissake! Do you know what I got for a Christmas holiday when I was that age?" Mrs. Granger scathed. "We had to visit my senile grandmother in Wales and my mum made me sleep in a car that Christmas. We certainly didn't have a home like this! We lived in a 2 bedroom apartment." Mrs. Granger paused to look for a response from her daughter, and grew more angry as the guilt trip seemed to have minimal effect, if any, on Hermione whose eyes narrowed and her lips curled in disgust.
"You always have to focus on the negative. Your father has two children, you know! I know that it's hard, I do. I understand that you're going through a lot, and your father has a lot of responsibility for that." Mrs Granger bit, her gaze turned to Hermione's dad who pushed his chair back and stomped out of the living room, and slammed the door in his wake.
Her mum sighed, "we know it's hard, it's hard on all of us. It's even hard on him. He's troubled. We're doing our best to fix this within our family. You have so much, Hermione. More than you probably realized. Just focus on what we do for you!" Her mother finished callously, and poured herself another drink.
Hermione had a lot more trouble biting her tongue as anger bubbled up inside of her. She felt like she was on fire,"So that's that then? You're going to sit here and drink yourself stupid while I have to try and negate an obstacle course of sexual harassment?" Hermione snapped venomously, she breathed hard to keep her voice steady amongst her hysterics.
Mrs. Granger gulped her drink back and poured another. "What did I say about talking to me like that? Have you listened to nothing else, I've said?"
"Look at what you're inviting this into my life, to live in our home. Oh, I'm so sorry you have to drink, and work, and wallow in your own self pity. Mind you, it is absolutely BIZARRE that yourself is all you can think about while you're letting your own daughter get ra-"
"SHUT UP!" Her mother harshly interjected slamming her glass on the coffee table. Hemione's jaw clamped shut as her eyes bored into her mother's murky green gaze. The older woman miserably collapsed into her chair. "Just go to your room," her mum demanded. She breathed in heavily, her lip quivering and she made a show of wiping her tears, "I'm not talking about this anymore, Hermione!" She finished amongst her theatrical sobs.
Hermione shook her head and stomped up the stairs slamming her door closed behind her so hard the concussion caused a vase perched ontop of her bookshelves to fall and break. She examined the locks her father mentioned. He had put five different ones on the inside of her door, as if her room was the only place she had ever been attacked.
Hermione scoffed but locked every one in spite of herself, before she heard a knock on her door. Crookshanks was rubbing himself on her ankles and purring with a curious expression on his face.
"Poppet?" Her father tried hesitantly, "darling, please. I'm not mad, I just want to... Hermione, can I come in?"
Hermione stayed silent and considered whether or not she should. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly and began to slam the dead bolts back, and only opened the door as far as the chain would allow it.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he pleaded, through the door crack. Hermione glared back examining her father. His face looked flushed, ascewing his once charming features into a puffy mess of red blotches underneath graying neglected facial hair and wrinkles. He was hunched by the door way and his eyes were red and crying. He seemed quite a bit drunk himself. Though more timid and vulnerable than Hermione's mother, without the protection of his sober emotional abstinence.
"So you're just going to drink your obligation away, too, I see?" She jabbed, bitterly as she echoed her mother's sentiments.
Her father looked at his feet and began sobbing."His mother told me, 11 years ago her boyfriend had been molesting him." Mr. Granger bemoaned sorrowfully, " I thought I could help one of my kids. I didn't know that my little girl-" his uncontrollable wails cut off his sentence as he balanced himself on her door way and crumpled pitifully to the floor. "I didn't know what I was doing, baby, I'm so, so, so sorry," he finished miserably.
Hermione slammed the door to disconnect the chain, startling her father in the process. She opened it and reemerged to crouch to her father's level and placed a hand on his back.
"You know exactly what you're doing now, " Hermione reasoned, clinically void of emotion.
Her father hugged her, Hermione allowed him but didn't return the gesture.
"Poppet, you don't ever have to forgive me. I'm so sorry, I love you, Hermione, I'm so sorry!" He wailed over and over again though his apology was too little too late, Hermione sighed and managed to convince the pathetic weeping blob in front of her door to get himself to bed.
She turned back to her door, redid the locks and tried to fall asleep herself
The next day Hermione paced around her room frantically, digging through her drawers and closet, grabbing every piece of winter clothing she could find, dizzying crookshanks who followed her movements with his head.
She Layered several sports bras, undershirts, and sweaters underneath each other and managed to get three leggings on underneath her skirt in anticipation for today. She has not seen her brother since the summer after her 3rd year, and her father left to pick him up an hour ago. She couldn't sit still, thoughts and memories flashed like lightening across her mind's eye clashing one after the other like a hurricane in her brain.
Hermione was trying to find one of her thickest winter jackets, and came across an old medicine bottle.
Her mother had given her xanax a few times the last summer Robert stayed with them. Since the Weasley's were in Egypt and Hermione had no where to escape her brother's perversion, her mother supplied her with a prescription of the highest miligram of I-don't-give-a-shit bars she could write for. At first she resented her mother for drugging her instead of taking action against her brother's brutality, but soon became quite infatuated with the feeling of ease and comfort they provided.
She considered taking one but really wanted to be fully allert when-
Her door knob turned violently snapping Hermione out of her thoughts, Crookshanks hid under her bed and hissed. Hermione put the bottle back in the drawer and surveyed the room for her best viable option.
She almost made a move for her wand, which she kept on her person, but stopped dead in her tracks. Hermione was not of age, what if she was expelled? What if she had to deal with this for another year without taking refuge at Hogwarts?
Her door knob clashed violently, and her assailant began banging on the door. "Mione, I know you're in there, love. Aren't you going to say hello? It's been years, open up!" Came the unmistakeable voice of Robert through the wooden door.
She made her way for the pieces of the broken vase sprawled across her floor and picked up the base end. She plucked up as much of her courage as she could and headed towards her door.
Every tiny ounce of courage she had in her seemed to disappear with every lock she unturned. She held the vase shards over her head as finally, she opened the door at chain length and met brown eyes uncannily similar to her own.
A tall stocky young man approaching 25, with acne scars stepped into view. His smile was warm and would have fooled anyone who hadn't been subjected to his brutality before. He chuckled at her shaking his head. His expression swiftly chained as if a mask flew off of his face as it tightened into a malignant scowl as he simultaneously whipped an arm out to make a point of the tension and yanked the door practically out of Hermione's hands. The chain lock snapped out of its screws.
Hermione swore for letting him get the better of her, and darted a few feet backwards. He slammed her door shut, his grin returned as quickly as it had fallen as he snapped each lock shut curtly. Stopping to wink at Hermione right before the last lock sealed her fate.
Hermione's breath was caught in her throat, sweat beaded at her forehead and soaked through the first two layers of Hermione's undergarments. She suddenly felt like she weighed a million stones.
"There's my girl," He spoke with his voice low, you could practically hear his grin maliciously punctuating the statement.
He stalked towards her, slow as torture. Hermione took a step back for every one he took forward until she was cornered against the wall.
"Aww..." Robert pouted, "that's my hello?"
"Enough! Don't! JUST DON'T!" Hermione screamed, she was trying with everything in her to make her voice loud enough to grab her parents attention.
Her brother was chuckling at her desperation. Robert screamed at the top of his lungs. "You'd think those two were as deaf as they were drunk," he said, his voice now quite a bit more hoarse. His footsteps had stopped. He was now towering over Hermione and she whimpered pathetically and melted into a weak sniveling ball of submission in the corner of her bedroom holding her vase in front of her.
"Come on, love, set that down. You don't have it in you to stab anyone." He crouched over her.
Hermione was almost crawling up the wall, her free hand shakily hovering over the wand in her back pocket. "You filled out since I last saw you." He said perversion laced each word he whispered. "But I want to get to that, later," Robert was almost completely against her now, he made a hand towards her ass and grabbed her wand. Hermione couldn't hold back a sob as he held it in front of her.
"Want to show me some tricks, love?" He mocked moving her wand between her legs.
Hermione finally reared the shard back and stabbed her brother hard in the shoulder. Robert shouted in pain and ripped the glass from his shoulder.
"Seriously?! What the fuck, Hermione?" He growled coming at her with the shard himself.
"DAD!" Hermione screamed hopelessly.
"DAAAAD!" Robert competed at the top of his lungs, his face red with rage.
"I thought you were the bright one, Mione!? It's just you and me for as long as they can avoid it," he shouted. He stood up, extending a hand to help up his sister which was rejected. He easily snatched his sister up by her jacket and roughly sawed at her over coat, as Hermione pathetically whimpered.
" Do you really think this would stop me? Don't get cute, it doesn't suit you. You'll be a lot happier this summer if you would just quit being such a stubborn bitch. You gave everything to me, Mione, EVERYTHING. Don't you ever forget that." He said each word he spoke more driven by his insanity than the last. He peeled the sweater off of her while she struggled beneath him like a fly in the claws of a house cat.
He continued sawing off each layer of clothing. The glass left several cuts on Hermione's body as he went through each shirt, bra, and sweater.
Hermione's eyes darted across the room, the Grangers lived in a country house with no neighbors for at least 5 miles. No one but her parents could hear them. She grew more panicked and her lip trembled as she tried to stifle her sobs. Robert grabbed her by her last shirt and kissed her roughly before pushing her back against the wall.
"I want to see you in something practical by dinner time, you'd do well to mind me." He said, tossing the vase by Hermione's side leaving his sister to sob alone in the corner of her room.
Hermione was a shaky mess and her whole body shook as she cried. Crookshanks crawled out from her bed and curled himself on her lap after the stairs stopped creaking under Robert's weight, and she was brought back to sense.
She gathered herself up to her door and repeated locking it several times. This just wasn't fair! Her mind was shouting. Hermione sat on her bed at a loss. It was as if the walls of her life were slowly closing in on her and there was no way out. The only option Hermione felt she ever had was to endure. At least for a few weeks.
Hermione hid in her room for most of the day. Eventually need for water and the toilet made her realize she couldn't stay holed up in there forever. Hermione could hear her family assembling for dinner downstairs. She decided to take her chances Valley of the Dolls style and popped a few pills.
Perhaps she could make herself not care or forget this summer entirely. Hermione counted her pills and wondered how many she would have to take to die. She shut her eyes and thought about Ron and Harry, and how many people Harry had lost. She knew she couldn't do that to her dearest friends.
She took two of the pills and stuffed the rest away. She had to give this to the muggles, she thought. No potion has ever compared to the inexplicable euphoria. The storm inside her head began to clear. Within minutes terrifying thoughts about Robert and hurting herself settled to the back of her brain like snowflakes on a serene winter day. A bang at her window startled her out of her thoughts, but as she went to investigate the sound she almost squeeled in delight as she opened the window for Pig.
How's your summer going? Do you think you're going to come stay with us soon? Ginny is probably looking forward to some estrogen in this house. Harry came over earlier this week. I know we're just a few weeks into summer, but we usually hear from you within the first three days! Let us know when you're ready to come over, you know we can't do Snape's summer assignments without you.
She clutched the letter in her hands and dashed to the kitchen. Her father was picking at his meal and gulping dark liquid from his tumbler. Her mother was pouring another drink herself and rolled her eyes and sighed when she saw Hermione. "Just lock your doors, for Chrissake! I told you I didn't want to hear any more protests from you, Hermione." She slurred before her daughter could speak to her.
"No, mum. Look!" Hermione said shoving the note in her face. Her mother strained to focus on it, but ultimately looked relieved. "See? All is well, I'll take you in the morning."
" I just got to see you!" Robert whined, getting both his sister's and step mother's attention.
"Well, off to bed then! Busy day tomorrow. Take care, poppet. I'll see you next summer." Her father said very much rushed to kiss the top of her head and rushed up the stairs. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. He couldn't get out of there fast enough.
The door to her father's study shut hastily and Robert cleared his throat to demand the Granger women's attention, "maybe I ought to take you, Mione?" Robert grinned menacingly. Her mother's eyes were wide and she took another sip of her drink.
"Robert, either your father will, or I will," she spat.
Hermione's heart quickened in her chest. Her mother could not, or more accurately would not defend her for much longer, and it was very probable at worst she would just provoke him.
"I'll talk to dad about it in the morning," Robert threatened, reminding Hermione quite a bit of Malfoy.
Mrs. Granger avoided his gaze and sheepishly sipped from her glass. "Hermione, come with me, there's something I want to give you. I'll see you in the morning, Robert," she said. Surprising her daughter as she grabbed her arm and successfully shewed her brother up to his room and pulled Hermione into hers.
"Well, you're welcome," snapped her mother bitterness dripping through her tone as she closed and locked her door behind them.
Hermione's expression soured, had her mother expected a 'thank you'?
"I got this for you, love," she said, changing her demeanor before her daughter could retaliate and grabbed an orange bottle that rattled as she pulled it off of the shelf and gave it to her daughter.
"I had a friend at the chemist of our practice fill these for you. I can get more when you need them, I can owl them to your school. Just one more night here. One more night and I promise we will take you to the Weasley's. Take one and try to sleep." She demanded.
Hermione examined the bottle, it was a month's worth of xanax. Hermione sighed, she supposed her mother meant well. "Thanks, mum," she said softly, "I'm going to bed now."
She turned to leave her mother to her drink and own supply of benzos.
She went to brush her teeth before bed. Perhaps she could make it through tonight without any- the shower curtain violently ripped away before she could finish her thought. Robert leapt from the tub and jumped her. Hermione's forehead hit the corner of the sink hard enough to split the skin, and her stomach hit the tile of the bathroom as Robert forced himself on top of her.
Hermione screamed loudly but no one came, no one ever came.
Hermione could vaguely make out her parent's arguing voices from down stairs.
"DAD PLEASE! HE COULD KILL ME PLEASE!" Hermione screamed.
"Are you seriously leaving?" Hermione heard her mother shout followed by a door slam.
Hermione cried harder and Robert laughed.
They both knew their dad and Hermione's mum would ignore screams as they ignored bruises. They both knew she was completely powerless. Until she could use her magic outside of school there were not a lot of options in front of Hermione, even then, she didn't even have a wand.
He ripped off her shirt and through three bras, "Cute," he growled, "really cute. You're going to regret that. You know better!"
Hermione could feel her lip quiver. Her head was bleeding slightly and her ears rung. Her body was like silly putty being tossed, and manipulated by Robert. She tried to grab his hands away in protest, but he was so much stronger than she was.
"Shhh, be a good girl, baby. You're always gonna be my good girl, right?" Robert was panting a bit at the effort it took to restrain and force Hermione, but he persevered.
Hermione avoided looking at his face, or body, or her reflection in the spotless shine of the bathroom fixtures, or tiles, or mirrors for that matter. She willed herself to be somewhere else. His taunts, touching and probing blurred together and soon his voice sounded like it was coming from under water.
His demands were incomprehensibly jarbled and she felt like silly putty and couldn't quite grasp the way her body felt anymore. Like clouds that contained her sensation of sight and touch were drifting above her body, and the reflections in the pristine porcelain looked like a television show rather than herself.
She imagined herself on adventures with Harry and Ron, in her favorite chair in the Gryffindor common room, watching her friends play a quidditch match at the Burrow, with Ginny at the three broomsticks. She was anywhere else but here. She can't feel, see, or hear anything in her immediate surrounding. She barely felt as if she was present and could physically touch things, but at the same time she was not there. It was like a dream.
The wet blood on her forehead contrasted against her day dreams. A hot rush against her back and weight lifted off on her made way for reality and the fog began to dissipate.
She was almost lucid again by the time Robert violently forced her to kiss him and pulled himself off.
He helped his sister up, shushing her and rubbing her back as she cried. He ripped off some toilet paper and started to doctor the wound on her forehead. "You should really be more careful, love, what are you going to tell your little magic friends?" Robert said speaking as if nothing had just happened. He looked upon her, almost as if he was admiring a lovely picture he had just painted.
Hermione stayed silent. Robert looked annoyed, "no matter, we'll come up with something when I drop you off tomorrow. He said winking at her. Hermione collected her discarded clothing and bottle of xanax from the sink counter. She popped two, and went off to bed.