AN: This one is a vast deviation from my normal romantic/fluffy fare. It contains mention of non-concensual sex, and other dark themes. But you know me…I try to give a happy ending for the most part. If you do not like, don't read! As always, read and review. Thanks a million.
Out of The Darkness
She was a shadow, a dark spirit, a black, convulsing mass of blood and grime-the stain of her shame was so extreme that she felt like she'd never get clean again, never feel pure, never feel whole. She was a broken soul, an empty vessel filled with nothing but evil and badness. Hermione dragged herself out of the gutter of Knockturn Alley and limped her way down the filthy cobblestone streets. She had only needed an ingredient to complete the potion that could change the whole wizarding world. One last ingredient that could only be obtained one way. It was meant to have been a quick and furtive visit to Knockturn Alley-there and back with no stops in-between. But she'd been stopped. And she'd been taken.
The world around her tilted and spun and with a wave of nausea she slumped against a blackened wall and hunched over, the pain in her belly like thousands of knives slicing through the deepest parts of her. She wretched and vomited the contents of her stomach onto the ground at her feet. Then she collapsed and there was nothing but blackness-a never ending world of darkness that consumed her in her half conscious state. She thought she heard a voice, saw a light, but then there was no more and her mind dove into the inky depths of despair once more.
Severus Snape was always alert, always aware of everything and everyone around him. Too many years as a spy for the light and and agent for the dark kept him perpetually hypersensitive to his surroundings, a trait he would not soon lose. He wished he could shed his armor like an old cloak at the end of the day, put it up and away in some secret place and never look at it again, but he could not. It was part of him now. As he made his way down the streets of Knockturn Alley, his soul purpose was to reach the apparition point and return himself to his private quarters of Hogwarts, indulge himself in a glass of fire whiskey, and lose himself in a book. But suddenly he was made aware of something several paces ahead of him. All at once his wand was drawn and a low whispered "Lumos" permeated the silence of the night. The tip of his wand illuminated a figure prostrate on the ground. It looked small and fragile, and filthy as well, and he was about to hasten his way past the unfortunate being as quick as he could when something about he form on the ground struck a cord of familiarity to him. That hair…that hair was so familiar to him it was as if he'd seen it before, somewhere quite recently. And then as the figure shuddered and hacked up a load of blood he caught a glimpse of the face; and the sight made him stop in his tracks. "Professor Granger?" He hurried to the side of the woman he'd known for nearly ten years and knelt at her side. He might be a cold and bitter man, but he was not one to leave a fellow colleague in distress, or any other human being for that matter.
His query was met with a pathetic moan before the amber eyes he'd looked upon so many times before rolled back into her head and closed once more. "Shit…" he muttered and quickly removed his heavy cloak. Wrapping it around her he swept her delicate body up into his arms and made his way surreptitiously to the apparition point. In a whirl of black robes they were gone, and Knockturn Alley was empty and desolate once more.
Once in his rooms he placed the body of the girl-no-woman on his bed quickly summoning several healing draughts and salves. From the looks of her, she'd been worked over rather badly. He paused for a moment before gently removing her outer robes, revealing a muggle tank top and sweat pants. He felt his gorge rise as he saw the dark stain at the seam at her crotch and willed himself not to be sick at the sight. Hermione Granger was barely recognizable form the composed and confident young professor he interacted with on a daily basis. As his replacement as Potions teacher, she'd often come to him for help with a difficult problem or to share yet another brilliant idea from that bright mind of hers,and he had all too willingly conceded to a sort of amiable relationship with her. One that he'd always kept professional, platonic. His heart, his mind, and his body longed for more, but he would not burden this pure soul with his darkness.
Gently he began to rub healing salves on the more serious slashes and abrasions to her person, some of them on her face that were shallow and already beginning to clot and bruise, some of them on her neck and arms which were deeper and had been flowing freely with her life blood. It was clear to him that she had several broken bones in her hands-probably from attempting to fend off whatever rat bastard or bastards that had done this to her. With his teeth, he un-corked the healing, replenishing, and pain potions he had acquired and force fed them to her, gently massaging her throat until she instinctively swallowed them down.
It was a few moments before the potions took effect and then her eyelids fluttered, one of them rather slowly due to the severely swollen black eye she had received.
She looked at him with those fathomless topaz irises that were filled with agony and pain. "Severus…" she whispered, and then she lost consciousness once more.
Severus sighed in anger and frustration. Who would do this to such an innocent young woman. And what in Merlin's name had she been doing in Knockturn Alley at that time of night, the foolish girl? Attempting to remain as professional as possible, he divested her of her soiled garments and vanished them to the laundry. Then with a flick of his wand he dressed her in the only thing he had, one of his large, white button down shirts, making sure, (without looking too much at her battered and bruised body,) that it covered her completely before he- in a moment of unusual tenderness, covered her gently with a light blanket. She would need rest, he knew. Then he transfigured another blanket from an old handkerchief and settled down on the couch in his room for the night. He did not sleep though. He kept a strict vigil over her sleeping form, awaiting the moment when she would wake. There would be time for questions then, but until then,she would get the sleep she deserved.
Tell me what you think? This is rather different from what I usually write. Reviews are always appreciated!