Less Than Strangers

by donotsrock

A/N 1: Now (March 13,2004) I can upload the beta-ed version! THANK YOU, Story 645 and CrystalStarlight, my betas. Your extensive comments and helpful suggestions really improved the story.

Disclaimer: "Less Than Strangers" is a song by Tracey Chapman (I picked it because I like it…). All rights belong to her and probably several other people. The story is based on characters and situations created by J.K. Rowling, no trademark infringement is intended. And I don't make money. And it certainly doesn't belong to me. Blahblahblah.

Chapter One – Reality

Slowly, Hermione lifted her head. Tears were burning behind her closed eyelids but she would not show any more weakness. Not even to herself. She forced herself to open her eyes – and cringed when the sharp light shot a stabbing pain through her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, only to be rewarded with more pain. With a swollen and bruised face, squeezing was clearly a mistake, Hermione reminded herself. Trying to stay calm she went over the ingredients for a Cooling Potion in her mind. It didn't help. She still felt the pain, and the heat, and the fear. And the fear wasn't even the worst of it. Far, far worse were the unknown "surprises" that would undoubtedly come. And the helplessness.

'Oh, God, someone please come and get me out of here.' She knew she couldn't take it much longer. Sooner or later she'd just crack and spill everything she knew – even the colour of Harry's favourite pyjama bottoms. And judging from the pain, it'd be sooner.

She resisted the urge to sigh and forced her eyes open, this time being more careful. After a few minutes, her eyes had adjusted to the light. It was not, as she had suspected, coming from a burning hot and impossibly bright shining fire but a little torch illuminating a small circle with a rather dim light. Apart from that light, it was dark in the room. She couldn't make out anything outside of the light's radius, but she knew how it looked anyway. After all, she'd been here for four days.

The cell was actually quite spacious. The high ceiling and cold stone walls ensured a constantly low temperature in the cell; but despite the chill, Hermione was sweating. 'I'm probably in shock,' she thought, her analytical mind still not able to switch off and veer off to occasional random thoughts of 'Panic! Panic!'; in a way, it would have been easier.

She looked around. It seemed as if she was alone in the cell. Good, she was so tired. Tired of being constantly aware of everything that was going on. Tired of needing to be constantly aware of everything that was going on. She had learned pretty fast that it wouldn't do her any good to ignore her surroundings. In fact, she had learned that about half an hour after she woke up in this damned cell. She'd been walking around, trying to find a way out, or a weapon, or anything useful. But she had not been careful.

He'd used that. He'd been watching her under a Concealment Charm. Invisible, but she should have seen him coming anyway. She should have at least heard him, but she'd been totally unprepared. She hadn't seen his face (of course not, a Concealment Charm didn't wear of that easily), but to be honest she didn't even want to know. Not anymore. Afterwards she'd been lying on the cold stone floor, sobbing and aching. Aching in places she'd never known could actually hurt. Aching all over.

He'd only said four words to her that day. In a low, hissing voice she didn't recognise, and was sure it wasn't his normal voice. 'Probably another charm.'

"Lesson one: Constant vigilance," he'd said in an involuntarily imitation of Alastor Moody. The irony hadn't been wasted on her. But somehow she'd been too… occupied; otherwise she'd surely have laughed at the irony.

Hermione shifted slightly and tried to stand up. She had the feeling that all she did was try, and that she would never get anywhere. She couldn't stand up. Her knees gave way each time she tried to put weight on them. She wondered if they'd hexed her to keep her immobile. But maybe her legs were broken. She couldn't quite determine the source of her pain. It seemed to be all over her. Even her eyes hurt. Well, at least she still had eyes. The other girl hadn't been as lucky. She'd been forced to watch while one of them made the girl's eyes bulge. And then he took them out. It looked horrible; she had vomited over the floor and the front of her robe. But the one holding her had made sure that she'd watched the mutilation to the end. She didn't know what they'd done with the poor girl (or her eyeballs) but she suspected something along the lines of 'kill the girl; send the eyeballs to her parents.' Horrible. Disgusting. She'd been relieved that the other girl had died. She'd been glad that she was still alive. Of course she'd felt guilty for a moment, but later she'd reasoned that she couldn't have done anything to help the girl. And it was good to still be alive.

Hermione doubted that now. Across her back were not only whip marks and deep cuts but also a severe burn. It was from a branding iron. She hadn't known how hot those could be. But then again, no one had ever tried to burn the word 'Mudblood' onto her back before. She'd seen him put the iron in the fire. She hadn't thought of it at the time. She'd been more preoccupied with the various knives and daggers lying on the table in front of her. She'd even spotted a dentist's device – she'd seen it before in her parents' office. Her parents. They seemed awfully far away.

She couldn't believe that it had been only four and a half days since she'd hugged her mum goodbye and blown her father a kiss from the entrance of the station. She had dragged her trunk up to the platforms and had been about to pass the secret barrier when something had hit her. She had felt as if her mind was being seperated from her body, but the peculiar feeling had ceased after a minute. It had been replaced with a feeling of odd contentment. Hermione had been sure that something was wrong, but she hadn't been able focus on it. The thought had slipped her mind every time she'd tried to grasp it. Everything else was blurry. She remembered being led out of the station, towards a side street. Then her dungeon cell.

Hermione let herself fall back against the wall, savouring the feel of the cool sensation on her burning flesh. She'd long since stopped trying to cover herself with the shreds of her clothing. Her robe was merely a half burned, half ripped apart lump of fabric in one corner of the cell, and her once white summer dress was lying blood-stained atop it. She was, however, wearing her underwear, as odd as that seemed to be. He'd told her to put it on after that first day. She hadn't objected.

She considered the possibility of getting an infection from exposing a fresh wound to a mouldy, old wall in a dank dungeon cell, but dismissed the thought. She could deal with infections later. At the moment, she wasn't even sure that she'd live to see another day.

The door opened. One of them came in, carrying a tray. His face was blurry and could not be made out clearly. He was wearing some sort of 'disguisement charm', or so it seemed. Maybe her eyesight had been affected by the other injuries. But if he was wearing a charm, maybe that meant they would let her go. If they were planning to kill her, why bother hiding his identity from her? Maybe there was hope after all.

The man set the tray down beside her and motioned for her to sit up.

"Eat," he said.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, she was starving. She hadn't eaten anything since about 60 hours, except for water, and the porridge looked extremely delicious to her. On the other hand, why would they suddenly start giving her food? Could it be a trap? Maybe they had poisoned the food. But then again, wouldn't they use a curse rather than a slow acting poison? Hermione was torn. But her hunger won. She ignored the pain in her right arm as she picked up the tray and positioned it on her lap. Wolfing down the hot porridge, she choked a few times. She tried to be reasonable and eat slowly, but she just couldn't. And she didn't like the man's watchful eyes roaming all over her body. She hoped that he'd leave with the tray and not come back, but her hopes were crushed that very moment.

The second she finished her porridge, the man pointed his wand at her and muttered a spell.

Her hands were bound behind her back, and he roughly pulled her to her feet. The tray and the plate fell to the ground, making an eerily loud clattering sound that made Hermione shiver.

The man brought her over to the opposite side of the cell.

He murmured "Lumos" and every torch lit up, blinding Hermione briefly.

When she could focus well enough to take in her surroundings, she wished that her eyes had been affected.

The man had been joined by two companions. She was glad that she still couldn't see their faces clearly. She would have hated the gleeful smirk of the tallest one. They chained her to the table, as usual. 'Wait, stop,' she thought. 'Since when is being chained to a table considered to be "usual"? I need to get out of here.'

Then it started. Torture.

Hermione didn't count the number of times they cut her with one of the daggers, or poked her with a needle in places far too sensitive to be exposed to pain. Soon, her whole body had gone numb. She was barely conscious.

"Well, let's move on to some more serious matters," the first man whispered into her ear, grazing her earlobe with his lips.

It sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. That little touch had been the first feeling in days that wasn't hunger, or pain.

The man must have noticed, too, suddenly, he grabbed her throat and hissed, "Do you like that?"

He sounded furious. She didn't say anything, and just let the tears fall silently down her cheeks. She stared at the ceiling. 147 square stones in her field of vision, and a pair of rusty chains. A spider's web and a matching spider, one with long legs and a razor thin body. It looked dead but wasn't. Ron would've freaked.

"Let's see how you like that," the man hissed, and bit down hard on her ear. She felt the pain, but didn't show it. A fine line of blood tickled down her neck. She would have laughed (she was very ticklish), but then something had her right hand in a deathly grip. She screamed and screamed and finally passed out from the pain of every single bone in her hand broken.

***

"Miss Granger!" The voice was urgent, whispering her name with that certain note only one person could manage. "Hermione!" Every other person would interpret his stressed voice and his harsh grip on her arm as irritated, threatening even. She knew better. He was on the good side, wasn't he?

She didn't want to open her eyes. It would hurt her. Even through her closed eyelids, she could see the bright light. She was about to squeeze her eyes firmly shut when she remembered – squeezing would also hurt.

"Miss Granger," he said once more. The grip on her arm loosened, but he still did not let go of her left arm. The one that didn't hurt so much.

He said, "I need to get you out of here."

She just nodded her head.

"Good, but I will need your help. You have to tell me how many captors there are."

She felt the hand slip away from her arm and protested weakly. It had felt good to know that someone was there to give her strength.

Obviously, he could read her mind because his next words were, "Don't be afraid, Hermione. I won't leave you."

Now she was forced to open her eyes.

The first thing that came into view after her eyes had adjusted to the light was Professor Snape's face. His black hair was tousled slightly, and his forehead was clammy. He didn't look good, but to her the sight of him was the best thing she'd seen in days.

Then she registered that he was holding out his cloak to her. She carefully took it and tried to put it on, but her right hand would not let her. Her hand was swollen and purple, all over. She supposed that about half of its bones were broken. It also hurt like hell.

Snape gasped. A quick look at his face confirmed her assupmption that he hadn't actually known how much she'd endured.

Tentatively, he reached out and put the cloak around her shoulders. He carefully avoided touching her bare skin while fastening the heavy cloak.

"Could you try and stand up, Hermione?"

She nodded, and forced herself to stand up. She managed to stay upright for about two seconds before her knees buckled and she found herself being held by Snape.

"Hermione, how many captors do you know of?" he asked again.

"Three," she croaked, her voice hoarse from screaming. She had a coughing fit shortly afterwards. She hadn't known that a dry throat could ache more than a broken hand, but then again, she'd never known what a broken hand felt like.

"Come now, Hermione," he said. He put one arm around her and easily lifted her off the ground. She bit her lip and cringed. Snape had unintentionally put his hand on the cutting burn across her back, but she was not going to complain now.

"I stunned one of your captors on my way in. I didn't see anyone else," Professor Snape said. He carried her out of her cell into the dark corridor and up the stairs. "We'll be able to Apparate once we're out of the building."

"Anti-Apparition wards," Hermione said, not being able to restrain herself. Her knowledge had kept her sane over the last few days. When she'd been at the edge of insanity, she'd recited Shakespeare, or listed potion ingredients, or remembered unimportant facts about the Great Wizarding Wars.

Snape nodded. "Of course I wouldn't have to explain it to you," he said.

He motioned to the other end of the hall with his head. "There is the front door. You'll be safe there."

She sighed. If she'd known that freedom was this close, she would have tried to free herself instead of waiting to be rescued. Snape increased the pressure he exerted on her body for a slight moment.

Soon, they reached the doors where Snape put her down, so that he could open them. He still supported her, which she found oddly reassuring. She felt safe.

Once outside, Snape pulled her up into his arms again. She squeezed her eyes shut reflexively, despite better knowledge, but the sun was shining far too brightly.

"Now, relax. I'll Apparate us to Hogwarts."

She nodded, and instinctively held onto him. The world went blurry, so she closed her eyes. The only thing that existed at that particular moment was Professor Snape.

When she felt Professor Snape move again, she opened her eyes. They were standing outside the gates of Hogwarts. The warm afternoon sun seemed to be mocking her; it was a beautiful day. She could almost hear the birds singing. She wanted to laugh.

"I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey."

Professor Snape's voice brought her back to reality. She noticed that he did not walk up to the front doors but went around the castle to another entrance – much to her relief. She didn't fancy every student at Hogwarts seeing her in this condition. Everyone would know, and they would just pity her. She didn't want that.

She buried her head in his shoulder, thankful that he didn't pull away, and nearly drifted off into unconsciousness.

Before long, they reached the Infirmary, where Professor Snape called loudly for Madam Pomfrey.

He laid Hermione down on the nearest bed, silently thanking the gods that no other student was at the Infirmary at that very moment. "Poppy!" he bellowed.

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office. "Severus, what are you doing here, yelling on top of your lungs? This isn't your dungeon, you can't go around and –" she broke off upon seeing Hermione's limp form on the bed. "Oh Merlin, Miss Granger!"

Rushing to her patient's side, Madam Pomfrey unceremoniously shoved Professor Snape out of the way.

"Severus, go and fetch Pepper-Up Potion from my supplies, and a vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion. And bring some hot water and bandages," she ordered in a no-nonsense voice before seeing to Hermione's condition. Letting her wand run over the student's body, she made her diagnosis, and carefully treated the minor cuts and injuries. Upon seeing Hermione's right hand, she gasped.

Professor Snape returned with his arms full of potion bottles, and was ordered to force some Pepper-Up Potion down Hermione's throat.

She swallowed carefully, and nearly choked on one sip, when he wasn't paying enough attention. Eventually, she was able to sit upright on the bed.

"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey started. "I'm afraid that your hand… well, every bone in your hand seems to be broken. While I hate it to expose you to more pain, that which you are already in, I must remove the splinters from your flesh and re-grow the bones. With Skele-Gro."

Hermione nodded. She knew that Skele-Gro tasted bad, and that the whole process would hurt a lot. Harry had been forced to take it in his second year after Professor Lockhart had accidentally removed the bones in Harry's arms. "It's okay, Madam Pomfrey. I'd rather have you grow me new bones than be unable to use the old ones. You know, I think I might need that hand again at some point in my life."

Madam Pomfrey just stared at her for a second before aiming her wand at Hermione's hand. Professor Snape allowed himself a quick smile.

'Yes, who would have thought that know-it-all Granger had a sense of humour,' Hermione thought sarcastically to herself. 'Madam Pomfrey obviously hadn't.'

Hermione was handed a steaming beakerful of Skele-Gro. It didn't help her sore throat to recover. The burning liquid only made it worse. "Water," she croaked, while coughing and spluttering. Someone handed her a glass, which she took gratefully. She downed the water in one gulp, choking on it. Madam Pomfrey patted her back to help her, but that only made things worse. Hermione whimpered as the hand rubbed the rough fabric of Professor Snape's cloak further into her broken skin.

Madam Pomfrey, however, instantly noticed that her patient had more injuries than the ones were visible.

"Severus," she said. "You need to inform the Headmaster." Then she shooed the Potions Master out of the Infirmary and closed the curtains surrounding Hermione's bed.

Hermione took off the cloak and Madam Pomfrey gasped once again. "Oh my," she faintly murmured.

After all the visible injuries were tended to, Madam Pomfrey turned back to Hermione. "Miss Granger," she began hesitantly. "I know that this may be embarrassing and hurtful, but it is very important that you clarify what happened."

Hermione raised her eyes. She knew what was coming.

"Miss Granger, have you been assaulted in a… sexual way?"

Biting her lip, Hermione averted her eyes.

"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey's voice was gentle but insistent. "Have you been raped?"

Despite all the things Hermione had told herself she would do – and not do – she could not quite hold back her tears. She could not even say a word. She just nodded.

"Then, Miss Granger, it is necessary that I run another line of tests to assure you that… there will be no… that you aren't –"

Hermione cut her off. "I'm not pregnant."

Madam Pomfrey, surprised by the hard note in Hermione's voice, instantly asked "How do you know?" before she could stop herself.

"I'm on the pill." She couldn't quite bring herself to add that the man had cast a spell. It had been humiliating. He had told her that he wouldn't want a bastard with a Mudblood for a mother. That, in his opinion, she wasn't worth to have children at all because they would all just be half-bloods. That she should be glad to 'be done properly'. Madam Pomfrey's next question interrupted her recollection of that particular situation.

"The what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Surely not every mediwitch could be that oblivious to Muggle contraception. "It's a Muggle medication. A form of contraception."

"But, are you sure it works? I read about it. Its effectiveness seems to depend on it being taken regularly. I don't think that… the man supplied you with it."

Hermione forced her voice to be as neutral as possible, and make her next words sound like a mere statement that was too unimportant to spring to mind directly. "Oh, well, he used a spell."

"Good." Madam Pomfrey obviously didn't want to question her further – at least for now. She helped Hermione change into a nightshirt, then handed her a glass of Dreamless Sleep Potion. "Drink this. When you awake, I want you to call on me immediately."

Hermione nodded, and took a sip of the potion. Almost instantly, she felt herself falling asleep.

***

"I'm afraid, Albus, that I cannot allow you to wake Miss Granger. She is in dire need of rest, and I will not let you ruin the last bit of peace that the poor girl might have for the next few weeks."

"Last bit of peace? Poppy, are you sure that you're not exaggerating?"

"Absolutely. She has experienced things that go beyond anything a human being should have to endure, and if I can delay your interrogation for the time being, I will do so. Until Miss Granger feels strong enough to face you and your questions, I will not allow you to pester her."

Hermione did not open her eyes. She could hear that Madam Pomfrey and the headmaster were somewhere near the door. She rather had the impression that the mediwitch was guarding the door. They were, however, far enough that she only heard muffled voices. It would have been safe to open her eyes, and still not let anyone know that she was awake. Truth be told, she didn't want to wake up. Her every muscle – and fibre – hell, even her hair, seemed to be aching. She just wasn't ready to face the new day without a Pain-Relieving Potion and a strong cup of coffee.

She almost sighed, but she didn't want anyone to her that she was awake. She could have coffee anytime she wanted. She could eat what ever she wanted. She nearly gasped. She could use the bathroom without surveillance! Now that was something to look forward to.

"Miss Granger?"

She didn't move. She didn't want to talk. Or open her eyes. If she did, it would all be real. If she didn't move, or think, or breathe, she could pretend that the last few days hadn't happened. That she was lying in her bed at home, and that her mum would come in any moment to wake her. That she'd be off to Hogwarts that very day. That she'd be alright.

But if she opened her eyes right now, and looked into Dumbledore's face, then all of it would be real. She'd have to acknowledge that fact. And she didn't want to.

"Miss Granger?" This time she realised that the voice didn't belong to Dumbledore, but was Madam Pomfrey's.

Reluctantly Hermione shifted into a semi-comfortable position. She couldn't lie on her back, and lying on her stomach was a bit inconvenient when trying to talk someone, so she rolled on to her side, her left arm supporting her weight. Her right arm still didn't feel quite right.

"How are you feeling?"

Hermione finally opened her eyes. The Infirmary wasn't brightly lit, and the curtains around her bed shut out the sunlight that was pouring into the room from outside. She sighed. "I'm fine."

With a doubting gaze, Madam Pomfrey lifted her wand.

"Let me see your arm," she requested, while taking Hermione's vitals.

She checked Hermione thoroughly. "You seem to be physically unharmed. However, the scar on your back will remain. I could not prevent the scarring. The infection was too severe. But I was able to heal all the other wounds."

The nurse paused shortly. "You didn't suffer from hexes or curses?"

Hermione shook her head. "They only prevented me from screaming. And tied me up." They had told her that it was more fun the Muggle way. She had also been assured that magical torture would follow shortly. But, luckily, she did not have to endure that anymore. Which brought her to…

"Madam Pomfrey?"

The mediwitch raised an eyebrow to indicate that she was listening, but continued to make notes in Hermione's patient file.

"I… I'd like to see Professor Snape."

Now she had the nurse's attention. "And why, if I may ask, are you asking for Professor Snape, instead of your Head of House? I'm sure if it has anything to do with-"

"I want to thank him."

Madam Pomfrey fell silent. "I hadn't thought of that," she admitted belatedly. "I will tell Severus that you wish to speak to him. This does not need to be done now, does it?"

Surprised, Hermione shook her head. "No. I can wait until later – but, why not? It's Saturday, right? There are no classes today."

Madam Pomfrey smiled for the first time since Hermione had been brought to the Infirmary. "First of all, it's actually Sunday."

Hermione's eyes widened. But then she had…

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey said, interpreting Hermione's expression, "you've been asleep for over 24 hours. I didn't want to wake you. Sleep is a very powerful healing charm in itself, you see. However, it is the weekend, and you are right, there are no classes. But Professor Snape always sleeps in on weekends."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "But… I never thought that he would be one to lie in bed forever," she mused. "although he never was present at breakfast on weekends."

"Yes, I thought that he got up early for nearly eight years, before I had to ask him something about a potion, and was greeted with a sleepy and generally cranky Professor Snape. I had a horrible week after that. He actually gets up so late that lunch would be his breakfast…"

Hermione didn't know how to reply. She didn't want Madam Pomfrey to wake Professor Snape. "How late is it?" she asked instead.

"Shortly after ten. I'm afraid you have to wait a bit. Is there anything you want?"

She considered this briefly. And finally, being Hermione Granger and all, said the one sensible thing that came to her mind: "Yes, actually, I was wondering what papers have been assigned since the start of term…"

End Chapter One

A/N: Well, here I am again. I got the idea to this story in the middle of the night, and started writing this chapter at two in the morning. It's might be a bit strange, and it isn't beta-ed. It will be SS/HG (duh!) and I honestly don't know if anyone ever did this before. If so, ignore it, or tell me. (Oh, well, you don't really know where I'm going yet, do you? Never mind. You'll learn soon enough.) However, the story will be from Hermione's POV for at least four chapters, and then it might change to be Snape's POV. And there will be a nice prophecy, and Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself…

I don't know when I'll be able to write on, and thus I don't know when I'll update again, but I'll try (I have only two weeks more at university – then it's the end of the semester. Unfortunately, I have exams in those two weeks… grrr).

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated….

~ donotsrock