When We Were Beasts

Which Witch

TW: Non-Con/sexual assault, grief, and torture. Most of this happens at the beginning, so you can skip to about halfway <3 some scenes in this are inspired by Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros
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It was nearly impossible for Hermione to keep track of how many days she was trapped in their clutches.

Everything became sectioned into three categories: tortured by Bellatrix, assaulted by Barty Crouch Jr, and oblivion.

Hermione wasn't sure who was worse.

Bellatrix was clean and simple with her tactics; a crucio until Hermione fell unconscious, and then she'd wake her up by carving another letter or two or six onto the scar.

So far, it now read: MUDBLOOD, PROPERTY OF BE-

Crouch was messy. Dirty.

He'd swoop in after Bellatrix. When Hermione's body convulsed from the pain, when her mind was useless jelly and she couldn't fight or beg for him to get off of her, he'd unzip his pants and stroke himself on top of her. Never inside her but still just as tortuous, when he'd lick the column of her neck and spill himself on her chest.

Hermione would make her mind be far, far away when Crouch took his turn.

She wasn't there, she was in a library, and Malfoy was with her. Hermione would laugh as she added another book for him to carry, and he'd roll his eyes but let a smile light up his face. In her mind she was in a library, and it was sunny, and she had Malfoy and Harry with her. Her parents were alive and safe and remembered her. Maybe they'd meet her for lunch. Malfoy would shake her fathers hand, bring her mother some flowers to woo her.

She clung to this fake place. It was the only way to keep from begging them to kill her already.

****

Hermione knew she was going crazy when Harry kneeled beside her instead of Bellatrix or Crouch.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, her throat dry and full of sand.

They had only fed her twice, and Hermione was fairly certain the water was laced with liquor. Was this a drunken hallucination?

Hermione reached a shaky hand towards him. "You aren't real. Have I died?"

He sat beside her, and though he didn't touch her, she swore she felt heat coming off of him, like he was really there. Like he was alive.

"Hermione," Harry said softly, and it sounded so much like him that Hermione sobbed. She hasn't realized she'd forgotten the sound of his voice. "You can't give up. You can't let them win."

"I can't take anymore of it." It felt freeing to finally say it. Her body was failing her, her mind fractured. If either one of them walked towards her again, she'd break completely. "Harry, I'm so tired."

Tears pricked at her dearest friends eyes. "I know you are. But Hermione, you can't join me yet."

A crack reverberated through her, and she knew it was her heart shattering. "Don't tell me you're dead, Harry. Don't take away that hope from me."

Harry didn't deny it. Instead he leaned forward until he was lying on his belly beside Hermione.  She kept her focus on his green eyes, his slightly crooked glasses. His hair covered his scar.

"I won't leave you, Hermione. As long as you need me, I'm here."

"I miss you, Harry. I miss you so much it's hard to breathe sometimes."

"Even now I'm not really gone, Hermione." He gave her a crooked smile. "I'll always be with you. You have to remember that. When it's darkest for you remember that I won't ever leave your side."