A Simply Horrible Summer

Chapter Six: A Freedom Long Awaited

Hermione lied, dirty and desolate, inside her cell. Her whole body ached from the pounding she had just received. She hadn't eaten for a few days and that made everything feel ten times worse. She lied on her stomach and closed her eyes, trying to get a little sleep so she could regenerate before the next days' beatings.

Over the next few days, Hermione continued to refuse to eat and talk. She hadn't used her voice since the night Lucius raped her, and was sure if she tried now no one would be able to understand her.

Her days had become routine by now. Every morning, the same boy would come to get her, lead her to a room filled with food, and lock her in. She would sit on a hard chair for a couple hours while the smell taunted her and the same Death Eater would try to get her to eat. Then she would be led back to her cell until nightfall. After the sun fell, she would be dragged from the dungeon to either be beaten or raped by some Death Eater she had probably never met. Afterwards, she would be thrown back into her cell and she would cry to herself and try to get to sleep.

By now she had resigned herself to this schedule. She rarely cried out in pain anymore, only if a Death Eater hit a spot that hadn't already been beaten. After the third day, there were no such spots. Her whole body had become numb and unresponsive. If the Death Eaters still wanted to fuck her after that; well, they were more desperate than she had thought.

Hermione's absence didn't go unnoticed by the two boys or the Order. Over the next couple of weeks, they all searched tirelessly for her, but to no avail. Voldemort's castle was too well hidden, just as Grimauld Place was.

Every time someone from their side felt like he was getting close, it would turn out to be a dead end. They were all getting frustrated as their efforts turned up as null. Even Mrs. Weasley was getting thin and gaunt looking as Hermione still didn't show. Harry, who was already thin enough, had to force down food every night to keep up his strength incase Voldemort attacked.

The Ministry had become involved six days after Hermione's disappearance. They had found her parents' bodies and informed the Order. After that, everyone increased efforts ten-fold, all wondering what state Hermione would be in when they found her.

All of a sudden, Death Eater attacks stopped, ten days after Hermione's abduction. The Ministry was befuddled with this sudden change of events, but the Order knew what was happening. Harry's scar hurt worse every day and they knew Voldemort was coming in for the kill.

Hermione was once again pulled by her hair down a corridor. She didn't even whimper as a few strands were yanked from her scalp. This had all happened before, a few times in fact.

As Hermione was unceremoniously dragged down the hallway, she began to think about home again. Was there even such a place for her anymore? Her parents were dead and she wasn't even sure if her friends were looking for her, or if they even knew she was gone.

She had been counting the days since she got here, but lost track after the fourth time she was raped. It didn't matter what day it was anymore, they all felt exactly the same: painfully numb. The last time she noticed it had been a Sunday, seven days after she was brought here. A full week of torture for her poor body and spirit.

She came out of her thoughts as a door slammed open and she was dragged inside. There was a bed in the room, which meant another night of rape for her. She sighed and resigned herself to the inevitable. He had a wand and she did not. That was all she needed to know.

She was thrown once again onto a bed. This time the Death Eater didn't even bother to tie her up, just trusted that she wouldn't go anywhere. Even if she did try to move, he would catch her in a second, as weak as her body was. And then the night of rape would be laced with the Cruciatus curse.

As the Death Eater vanished her clothes and started his 'work' on her body, a flash of silver metal caught her eye. A long, beautiful knife was lying on the bedside table. The Death Eater was too engrossed in what he was doing to notice anything about her. She inched her arm toward the edge of the bed and then onto the table. Just a little bit farther, Hermione urged herself. Almost there; he doesn't suspect a thing. Come on now, grab it. It's your only salvation from this.

Her hand trembled as her fingers closed around the knife's handle; so much that the knife clinked on the wood. The Death Eater looked up, surprised at the sound. Hermione froze, hoping that he hadn't seen the knife in her hand, but he did. He started to say, "What theā€¦," but Hermione thrust the blade into his chest, close enough to the heart to be fatal. The Death Eater continued to stare at her as she slide the knife out. His blood spilled from the wound, drenching her body in the warm liquid. She quickly scrambled away from him as red soaked the sheets. His eyes went blank and cloudy as death took him.

Hermione stood up, almost appalled at what she had done. Still naked, she crept over to the door, the knife reading in her hand. She rattled the handle but it was locked. She looked back toward the Death Eater. She would have to retrieve to wand from his pocket.

She walked slowly back to the corpse. The blood was already drying in the sheets, making then stiff. She rolled him over, disgusted at touching the filthy man. The wand was lying in his pocket opposite from her, too far to reach without touching him. She leaned over, trying her hardest to not brush against the man. She shuddered when her hand accidentally touched his exposed genitals, but she finally got the wand.

She opened the door with a quick Alohamora and dashed out into the cold hallway. The air brushed against her bare skin, causing goose pimple to rise on her arms and legs. It wasn't until then that it dawned on her: she would never be able to make it out of here. There were at least forty Death Eaters in residence, all armed with wands. She was one, weak person against all of them. She might be able to take down one or two, but she would be captured again, and she wouldn't be able to handle any more torture that the Death Eaters would give her.

Still, she decided to walk down the hallway. There were a few Death Eaters ahead, she could hear them, so she turned around and walked to opposite way. There were people over there, too. She cursed under her breath. Didn't they have anything better to do tonight? She slowly backed up from the hum of voices ahead and ran into a table that was conveniently placed in her way. A vase on it fell and shattered on the floor.

The voices stopped, and loud whispers took its place. Then she heard foot steps coming near her on both sides. Hermione started to panic as shadows of five men on each side came toward her. As the first Death Eaters arrived in her sight, she really began to freak out. They all looked at her curiously, astonished at the sight of her naked form in the middle of the hallway. Then they began to shout spells.

A disarming spell hit her and the wand flew out of her hand, but she managed to keep a grip on the knife. It was her last hope and began to look very tempting in her fingers. Everything seemed to stop as she made up her mind. She refused to be captured again. They could have her body, it seemed they had already taken it, but they wouldn't have her soul.

She plunged the knife into her heart as spells continued to shoot past her. She fell to the floor and wrenched the blade out of her body, letting her life force drain more freely from her chest. She smiled as her vision of the floor was taken over by red. She then lie on her back and felt first the numbness, then the pain leave her. She felt as though she were flying.

Pops of Appirition filled her ears. Voices that she had known for years began shouting curses at the Death Eaters. More pops sounded, and then cheers. Someone shouted, "The war is finally over!" and soon, all of the people surrounding him took up the call. Then someone else shouted, "Hermione!" and she turned her head toward him. It was Ron, ever faithful Ron, that reached her side first. She looked up at him, now a frown on her face as she whispered, "I'm sorry." Blood dribbled from her mouth and her eyes went blank. The war was over, but Hermione died before she got her freedom.