Title: Bruised
Author: graffy
Rating: M
Warnings: Deals with violence and non-consenual sexual situations.
Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, just the idea behind this story.
Her head slammed against the wall, a painful ringing resounding through her head. Through the pain, the only thought that wandered through her hazy mind was that she just knew her thigh was going to bruise.
She knew it was; it was nearly impossible to avoid marking from the way he was gripping her upper thigh. Her lip was already split, blood seeping into her mouth and staining her tongue and teeth. Her left cheek felt swollen and stiff, from when he had backhanded her roughly. She couldn't see out of her right eye, it was so swollen shut. A thin trail of blood was dribbling from her eyebrow and down her cheek and neck.
His rancid breath beat down on her neck, making Hermione arch away from him as tears painfully threatened behind her eyelids. She whimpered out a quiet plea for help, wishing that someone, anyone, would come and rescue her.
She felt, more than heard, his sniggering. "Oh, helpless little mudblood," he sneered, skimming his nose across the bloody skin of her neck and making her shiver in disgust. His teeth scraped along her ear, and he whispered, "Nobody to save you, don't you know?"
Her nails dug into his shoulders as she heaved with sobs, and he shoved his body more firmly against her own, his erection digging painfully into her hip.
"Why," she moaned, attempting to twist away from him. Hermione knew she wouldn't have gotten very far—she had twisted her ankle quite badly in her attempt to escape his pursuit, and almost immediately afterwards a dark bruise had begun to circle her ankle. "Why are you doing this?"
He bit her on the shoulder, and broke skin with some of his teeth. "You're so dirty," he murmured, thrusting against her. "Dirty blood should look dirty." His hand closed around her throat and tightened just enough to leave her gasping for air. "You're positively ugly now. I'm going to make you feel as dirty and worthless as you are." His grip tightened even further, and she clawed at his hand as she gagged and struggled to breathe. His other hand wormed itself under her skirt as his body and other hand kept her in place.
His fingers were about to pry her underwear away from her bone dry entrance, when the door to the abondoned classroom they were in flew open. Miles Bletchley's grip on her throat loosened, and she raspily choked in air. He twisted his upper body to the doorway, and felt his heart drop as the light flooded around the clearly infuriated form of his Head of House.
"Mr. Bletchley," came Snape's cool sneer, and the underlying rage in his calm manner let Miles know that he was in deep, deep trouble. "Kindly release Ms. Granger from your grubby hands and make your way to the Headmaster's office immediately."
Miles backed away from the girl immediately, and she fell to the ground in a graceless, bloody heap. He made his way to the doorway, and found himself being thrown into the wall of the hallway outside the classroom. He was spun around by strong hands, and Snape's enfuriated gaze met his own. "Would you mind explaining to me," the older wizard said quietly. "Why you felt the need to disgrace your own house and risk expulsion by accosting the Head Girl?" When Miles remained quiet, Snape sneered at him. "That's what I thought." He threw the boy down the hall, and in a swirl of robes, walked back into the classroom and slammed the door shut.
000
Snape fell to his knees next to the crumpled, crying form of Hermione. He gently turned her onto her back, and felt his breath catch in his throat at her completely battered appearance. "Hermione," he muttered, ghosting a hand over her darkly bruised cheek.
The eye that wasn't totally swollen shut cracked open, and she lifted a shaking hand a few inches off the floor. "Sev'rus?" she murmured. Her hand fell limply to the floor a few seconds later, and her head lolled towards the hard stone.
Cursing and fighting back the tears that bit at his eyeballs, he lifted her into his arms, mindful of her injuries. The sheer, overpowering emotion he exuded radiated magically from his being, throwing the heavy door open. He stalked down the blessedly abandoned corridor, broken Head Girl in tow.
When he made it to his chambers, he set her down on the side of his large bed that she had deemed her own. Stepping back and shrugging off his heavy outer coat, he made quick work of assessing her injuries.
Her face was unmistakably battered: one eye bruised heavily and swollen so shut that her eyelashes were just barely visible, one eyebrow cut and bleeding, cheek tainted an angry black and blue, and a handprint rung around her neck. Blood was seeping through one of her shoulders, and he peeled back her torn blouse.
On her right shoulder, there was a clear bite mark that made him clench his jaw in anger. Her breasts were surrounded by fingerprints, the pendent he had given her for Christmas nestled between the valley of her chest. It was a horrifying reminder of the tresspasser who had marked his girl.
Her thighs were mottled with fingerprints, the dark scattering resembling some sort of strange disease. Her ankle was clearly swollen to the size of his closed fist, and yet another bruise marred the skin there.
Angrily, Severus stood and grabbed a wooden table, throwing it against the stone wall of his chambers. Rage was pounding through his veins, consuming his thoughts, and threatening to overpower him completely. That little insolent brat of a seventh year, in his own house, had violated the single most important thing in his life. There would be hell to pay, Snape could guarantee that.
A small whimpering moan interrupted his vengeful thoughts, bringing him back to Hermione's battered form. She was still unconscious, but clearly in pain. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table, and, murmuring spells to heal the cuts and bruises, waved it gently over her prone form. Slowly, before his very eyes, her cheek and eye returned to their normal color and size, her lip stitched itself back together, and the bite on her shoulder faded away. The bruises sunk back into her skin and her ankle healed with a sickening pop.
Hermione shifted in her sleep, shoulders sinking into the bedcovers with relief. As for Severus, he collapsed into the plush leather chair by the bed, fingers threading their way through his greasy hair. He had been waiting for her presence in his room, standing in the front most room of his quarters, when the heavy, clear paperweight on his desk began to swirl with red. The pendent he had given her was magically charmed to alert him when she was in immediate danger, and the feeling of panic he had felt when he saw the bloody hue of the stone caused him to throw himself out of his chambers.
He had performed a hasty locating spell, and had all but sprinted in the direction his wand had pointed him. When he came to a stop outside the old, abandoned Arithmancy classroom, he could hear the quiet whimpering and pleading she was doing with whoever was hurting her.
He had almost burst into the classroom when he heard her desperate, "Why?"
"You're so dirty," he heard muttered back to her. "Dirty blood should look dirty. You're positively ugly now. I'm going to make you feel as dirty and worthless as you are."
That was when he lost it. He had thrown the door open, and stumbled upon his worst nightmare.
Wearily, he lifted himself out of the comfortable chair, walked around the bed and deposited himself on the other side of the wide mattress. Shifting closer to her, he drew her into his arms and tucked her against him, pressing the side of his face against the riot of curls on her head. She moved against him, lips and nose skimming the side of his adam's apple.
His hand tightened its grip on the back of her head, and promised himself that there would be hell to pay.
TBC...
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