AN:/ Hello! This story follows the progression of a friendship through to a romantic relationship between Hermione and Severus — it focuses on a very serious subject so those who do not like to read this sort of thing may want to leave now (I totally understand). It deals with the way rape can affect someone throughout their life. This won't be as dark as you think it will be; there's fluff mixed in, but there's also dark subjects.

Also, this could be considered Draco-bashing (I'm a fan of his character, I just needed a bad guy for this story) so go ahead with caution. Any mistakes will be corrected once complete, unless MAJOR.

WARNING: Contains descriptions of rape (only in the first chapter), and discussions on the subject matter (Throughout).

Updates will be once a week - Every Wednesday since that's the day I'm posting.

~ Chapter One ~

Hermione scrubbed furiously at her body. The tough bristles caused her skin to rise up in scratch marks, and dots of blood seeped through her disturbed flesh. Her hiccuped sobs echoed around the Head Girl's bathroom, but no one was around to hear.

She suddenly felt the ghost of his lips against her neck. Her pained cry hurt her throat as she brushed her neck violently.

His body crushed hers to the cold stone, and she screamed at herself to move, but the binding spell restricted any movement. A helpless sob came from her throat, and he moved his mouth towards her exposed chest.

It had happened too quickly. The war was over, so she didn't feel the need to have her guard up all the time. Harry and Ron decided not to return to Hogwarts leaving her on her own. They abandoned her. No visits. No letters. No invites. Nothing.

I'm naïve and...so incredibly stupid. She bit down hard on her bottom lip and drew blood. Her tight curls clung to her neck and back; she tried her best to see through her sore eyes, but the surrounding steam was thick. She'd charmed the water to be extremely hot because she wished to disinfect herself.

His wet lips touched her neck and he pushed himself inside of her. The evidence of her innocence was stolen with a quick thrust, and she felt a hot pain deep inside of her. Tears drenched her face, but her body still wouldn't move.

Tonight was the Halloween Ball. She'd gone with the company of Ginny and Luna, only to escape into the castle gardens for some fresh air. The war had left her with many scars, both physical and mental; sometimes she needed time to herself.

She should've seen it coming. After pleading for his life, they allowed Draco back into Hogwarts—Professor Snape had helped him—and the idea that he may be out to get her never crossed her mind. Hermione had accepted that he may be on the road to becoming a better person—how wrong she had been.

"I know you've wanted this for a long time…" He grunted and thrust into her once more.

Hermione had washed the dry blood from between her legs before the attack on the rest of her body began. What was she supposed to do now? If someone was to ask her about her first time, she wouldn't be able to lie without the memories flooding back. What do I do? She repeated it in her mind, and kept clamping her eyes shut in pain.

He had only left a few marks on her body—mainly her hips—meaning the rest of the damage was internal and mental. Would she have to face him every day and remember the grunts he made? Hermione shook her head frantically and cried out as she vomited into the water.

She had to tell someone what had happened, but she didn't know who to turn to. Headmistress McGonagall would wish to hug her while telling her that everything will be OK—it won't be fine, things will never be fine again—Ginny would hex immediately then tell Harry and Ron.

Hermione didn't want many people to know, nor did she want sympathy, hugs, kind words, or someone to sugar-coat things. She needed someone who would help her without a doubt, but treat her as if she was capable of looking after herself. She needed someone that could help her with a single look instead of a ramble of words.

It's true that she isn't in the right frame of mind, but only one name rung true when she thought about it. Yes, it may not be the right person to visit this late at night, however, once her disturbed mind focused on his name, everything made sense.

Hermione forced herself to get out of the hot water and away from her sick. Her ripped dress lay nearby, and she stared at it blankly. Everyone was in bed now, so there was only one place he could be. She tried to stand up straight but a pain in her stomach crippled her.

Another cry escaped her lips and her body began to tremble. She couldn't think clearly enough to conjure up some new clothes, so in her confused state of mind, she slipped back on her torn dress. Her knees protested as she stood up straight and wrapped an arm around her cramping stomach.

Hermione walked out of the bathroom with her bare feet leaving behind wet prints. She made her way towards the dungeons and used the wall for support. There shouldn't be many teachers patrolling the hall as most of them would have the night off thanks to the ball.

She ran her tongue along her bloody lip and struggled to manoeuvre herself down some steps. Another tremor rocked her body causing her to whimper in the darkness; it echoed off the walls, so she tried her best to move quickly.

Five minutes later, she arrived outside the potions classroom. Her hands shook as she pushed open the heavy door; she didn't distribute her weight evenly, and stumbled to her knees with a cry. The empty room didn't hinder her yelp, and she knew that he would've heard.

Hermione fell on her front when she heard another door open with a creak. She tried her best to push herself onto her knees, but her body curled in on itself, and she sobbed loud enough for him to hear.

"Who's there?" He snarled, and she listened to the sound of his footsteps on the cold floor.

"S-Sir…" She whimpered into the dust.

"Miss—Granger!" His voice bounced off the walls.

She heard his footsteps become faster, then his knees lowered to the floor next to her. He was still wearing his robes from the ball.

He glanced out of the open door then back down at her. "What happened?" He slipped off his outer robe and placed it over her, his strong hand cupped her elbow, and he helped her sit up. Hermione's bottom lip quivered, and she finally looked into the eyes of the man she saved a few months ago.

"I-I was raped."

Silence. She hadn't expected much else from him, but his face stayed motionless for what felt like an eternity. He moved his hand away from her like she had burnt him, and pulled out his wand.

"I'll get the Headmistress-"

"No!" She grabbed hold of his arm and choked on her sob. "Please—please don't tell anyone!"

He stared at her for a while, and she could see that his mind was running miles a minute. "I have to inform the Headmistress of this—can you stand up?"

"No...no no no no no," She lay back down on the floor and brought her knees to her chest. "D-Don't tell anyone...please sir."

Another long silence fell.

He cleared his throat. "Who...Miss Granger, who was it?"

"No no no no no no…"

"Miss Granger, I know this is the last thing you may want right now, but can I touch you," She glanced at him warily. "I need to get you somewhere more comfortable, and levitating you isn't the best idea right now."

She nodded her head with a whimper, and her eyes observed him closely as he placed his arm under her knees and the other around her waist. He lifted her with ease, and relief flooded her veins when he didn't walk out the door, instead he headed towards his chambers.

The door opened to his private quarters, and he carried her inside. There was a sofa in front of the fire, and a wingback chair accompanied it. She didn't pay the room any more attention.

The idea of sleep began to appeal to her.

Hermione inhaled a shuddering breath, ultimately taking in the smell of her Professor. He smells...safe. She cringed when she saw the wetness on his robes from her tears, but it didn't seem to bother him.

He slowly lowered her down onto the sofa, and she suddenly became aware of the pain her body was in. She must've scrubbed hard because she could see her raised, split skin easily. She had to stay on her back because it hurt when she lay on her side. Her neck was on fire, but the worst pain was in her abdomen.

"S-Sir...I'm going to be-" There was a wooden bucket thrust before her, and she sat to throw up the acids in her stomach. Her hair started to fall around her face, and she remembered that it was still very wet.

The tip of Professor Snape's wand touched her temple, and he cast a drying charm. It helped relieve the intense tremors that rocked her body. He glanced at the damage she'd done to her skin, then disappeared for a few minutes, so she placed the bucket on the floor and lay back down.

When he returned, she was crying hysterically and trying her best not to choke on her tears. If it made him uncomfortable, he wasn't showing it.

He conjured a pillow, then placed his hand on the back of her head, so he could lift it up and slip the plump cushion behind her. She was grateful for a bit more support. Snape handed her a glass of water and her hands shook, causing the water to spill. He gently took it away from her and brought it to her lips. She swallowed the liquid down her sore throat then winced.

He placed the glass on the small table next to the sofa, then he scratched the side of his face and looked at her. She could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he continued to watch over her shaking body. He soon retrieved a blanket and tried to remove his robe from her, however, she groaned out a "no" and held it tighter. She wouldn't admit it right now, but she liked the comfort it brought her.

Snape didn't question her answer, and draped the blanket over the back of the sofa, then let his eyes wander over her sore skin. He disappeared quickly only to return to her crying again. He still didn't say anything. With a salve in hand, he started to work it into her blemished skin. Not once did his eyes stray from hers.

It was a tender gesture, one she didn't know she'd wanted. There was no panic rushing through her body when she felt the salve seep into her skin. It was all because he wouldn't look away from her; he was making sure that her mind didn't flash back to the event that landed her here.

The process went on for a few minutes, and she continued to stare into his dark eyes. Her body still shook from the cold dungeon air, but her tears had started to dry, leaving behind bloodshot eyes. Her hair—without a doubt—looked inexplicable; she didn't need a mirror to know that it was an unruly mess. A drying spell never helped tame her frizz.

"Miss Granger…" He drawled never taking his eyes away from her. "I need to ask you a very sensitive question…" He trailed off waiting for the nod of her head. "Did he...did he finish inside of you…?"

Hermione knew there was no way anyone could sugar-coat that for her, however, it still made her bottom lip tremble, and she nodded her head. She heard him mutter something under his breath but didn't quite catch it. He disappeared from her eyeline again, and she willed the tears to bugger off from her eyes.

She started to wonder how she would feel tomorrow. Would she cry and want sympathy? There's no going back now; she didn't want people knowing about it. She didn't want the Headmistress or her so-called friends to know. Professor Snape was the best option, yet it was selfish of her to assume he could deal with all this. She may have saved his life, but she didn't want him to feel like he owed her one—he didn't.

"Open your mouth for me, Miss Granger," He kept up the appropriate formalities but there was no sign of his familiar scowl. A sour potion entered her throat, and she choked on its icky taste. Hermione knew what it was from his earlier question; it's like the morning after pill that Muggle's use. She hadn't thought about it until he'd brought it up.

One thing Hermione was thankful for was that it happened to be Saturday tomorrow. She would have two days to collect herself and be ready for lessons on Monday. It would be hard to avoid people if it had been a school day tomorrow.

Her body started to shake more. Snape retrieved the blanket from the back of the sofa and put it over her. She was grateful for the second layer of warmth and nuzzled her head into the comfy pillow.

"Do you feel pain anywhere else?" He asked softly, and she winced. "Miss Granger?"

"M-My…" Her bottom lip quivered. "He took my—s-sir…" The words wouldn't come out of her mouth, and she cried out in annoyance. Snape seemed to understand what she meant from the few words that did make it out. With a look of anguish on his face, he disappeared again and returned a few moments later with another phial. It was cold against her lips, and she recognised the taste of the pain reliever.

"Do you want to try to get some sleep?" She nodded her head and clung to the blanket.

"W-Will you stay?" She whispered.

He nodded and moved to sit in the wingback chair.

Hermione watched the flames rise a little higher and the warmth soon comforted her cold skin. It wasn't long before the fire lulled her into a deep sleep, completely aware that he was watching her intently from his chair.