Disclaimer: The Harrypotterverse belongs to the marvelous J.K. Rowling and her associates.

A/N: Just getting all of this out of the way. This story is Severus Snape/ Hermione Granger. Yes, there will be a student/teacher relationship. If you can't handle that, I suggest you leave. Hermione's 17 at the beginning of the story, which is in August. Her birthday is September 19th, so I do not expect anything to happen between them before then.

Yes, there is mention of rape here. Nothing graphic, so you won't need to worry about that.


Tears welled up in her honey brown eyes. "Bloody hell," she whispered. She stared at the plastic Muggle contraption. Suddenly angry, she flung it at the wall, where it broke in two.

But breaking the evidence didn't make the fact any less true. She was pregnant.

Hermione Granger, who had recently gotten her letter confirming her new status as Head Girl, was pregnant at seventeen.

Her cheeks suddenly wet, her body visibly shaking. Everything...everything was done for. How could she go on? Her future was nothing now. She could forget being Head Girl. Hell, she'd be lucky if she finished school.

It was August, and Hermione was in her parent's house. They were downstairs, without a clue. By Hermione's estimation, she was about two months pregnant, give or take a week or two.

Any thought of abortion was quickly dashed from her mind. After three weeks, the baby formed a magical connection with the mother. One that if severed before birth would cause the death of both the mother and child. Not that she would have done it anyway; she was never one to support abortion. It wasn't the baby's fault it was concieved.

Not that it was her fault either.

It was the end of August, the summer was almost over save two weeks, and currently Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table with her parents.

"Say that again?" her father asked in a dangerous voice.

"I'm pregnant," Hermione said softly. She didn't know how to explain this. How could she? Her parents were brick walls as far as she was concerned.

"I knew it!" her mother screeched, pushing her chair back from the table. She stood up, pacing frantically across the linoleum tiles. "I knew this would happen. Didn't I tell you just last week, Frank? I told you about that boy."

"What boy?" Hermione's eyes flashed. If they were talking about whom she thought they were...

"Tom something-or-other. The one you're always hanging around with," her mother said, in a rather whiney voice.

"Tom? Good god, no," Hermione said, before she could think about it.

"The who Hermione. Goddamnit who?" her father asked angrily, his fist clenched on the table.

"It was...it was...no one," Hermione said in a small voice. What a perfect time for her wits to leave her. She could barely think straight. This wasn't happening.

Hermione shut her eyes tightly, hoping this would be gone when she opened them.

"Surely you don't expect us to believe this was an immaculate conception?" her mother said snidely.

"You don't know do you? How many have there been, Hermione?" her father said, his voice rising with every word. "How many?"

The words swirled around in Hermione's head; they were attacking her from every possible angle. She had to tell them...

"I was raped! I was raped, alright? There were no men, there was nothing. Just a cold floor and a dark face," she exclaimed, sobbing. "I can't remember!"

Hermione's mother paled slightly, but her father replied, "You were raped? You expect us to believe that? How stupid do you think we are? It's obvious that you're lying to save yourself."

"I was." Hermione choked, it was all she could say.

"You expect me, to believe that you, a witch, let herself get raped? No. Not possible," He said, almost calmly. "Your magic would have saved you."

"The least you could do for us is tell the truth, Hermione," Her mother snapped. "The very least."

"But I am! This is the bloody truth!" Hermione all but wailed. Why weren't they listening? She never lied to the before, why would she now. Why weren't her parents supporting her? Why, damn iit!

He stood up, and turned so he wasn't facing Hermione. "I want you out of my house."

"Daddy, please, no...I..." Hermione pleaded.

"I said 'Out'! Get your things and go!" he yelled, walking over to the other side of the kitchen where Hermione's mother was standing stiffly.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Hermione asked shakily.

"Not my problem anymore," he replied, in an indifferent voice.

Hermione got up silently, leaving the kitchen without saying a word. She went into the living room, looking at the family pictures and wishing she could smash them all to bits. She had told the truth. But she had already known they wouldn't believe her. Deep down, she knew that the rift between them had grown, and now, they finally had their excuse to get her out of their lives forever.

When had it started? Was it when she started Hogwarts? Or when they finally realized that she would never be able to be the daughter that they were promised. That they believed that they were entitled.

She used to be her parents' pride, when it came to anything, she excelled. They had thought that her magic was just a phase; that she'd grow out of it. But she hadn't. And look where it had gotten her.

"Hermione?" A light voice came from one of the couches. Her younger sister, who was about 10 years old, was sitting on the couch. She looked quite a bit like Hermione, same petite figure and honey brown eyes. Her hair, while still rather voluminous, was not quite as bushy and was darker brown than Hermione's.

"What do you want, Abby?" Hermione answered sullenly, hiccuping once or twice.

"What happened? Mum and Dad wouldn't say anything to me..."

Hermione cut her off. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll hear all about it soon enough." She walked towards the hall. "Goodbye, Abby," she mumbled, as a final farewell. She probably would never see her little sister again.

A/N: Edited Nov. 15th 2004.