Hermione Granger is scared. The nightmares are frequent and sleep is rare. Her relationship with Ron is not what she thought it was. Stuck in a circle of despair she is trying hard to regain the famed Gryffindor courage while maintaining appearance...
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* Trigger Warning * - Hello loves. This chapter contains strong abuse content and mentions of violence and rape. Please read with caution or don't. Just a fair warning. My story will only continue and is generally for a mature audience. Happy reading :)
~ Hermione Granger
Off late she hadn't been telling Ronald where her legs carried her. And they always carried her away from him, something he wasn't pleased about. Ronald Weasley had always been suspicious of the nature of Harry and Hermione's relationship. He made sure she knew that she could only be with other males when he was present, safely tucked at his suffocating side.
Seeing her sit tucked by Harry's side in the common room then was a sight that Ronald Weasley was not pleased about.
" What are you doing? " he demanded, face rapidly taking on a ginger hue.
She was glad the common room was empty. Knowing that people, her friends witnessed anything that transpired between her and Ronald would only add to her nights of sleeplessness. Again, she felt the feeling of self-loathing that was becoming her second skin. She shuddered.
He was standing in front of her now. She needed to back away but she couldn't move.
"What did I tell you about not wondering off darling", he growled, his arms snaking around her waif-like waist. Hermione counted the warning signs. Her mind always registered them. And she could read Ronald better than any book she had poured into at the library, chasing the inky depths of the night. He was way too close now, and she couldn't stop shaking. Something was pulling her, her gut twisted and she shrunk into herself.
She realized with a jolt that he was pulling her towards his room. She couldn't do this now, she thought, a rat trapped in the claws of a vulture. Please, she thought again. She thought of Harry, maybe he would stop this. Just at that thought, shame struck her. Since when had Hermione Granger needed someone to help her? What had happened to her Gryffindor courage? Disgust pulsed through her.
Pathetic...
He shoved her. His room a mess, a good reflection of what she was. She couldn't breathe. It was like time stood still. Maybe it had broken. As her back hit his sheets, she found that she was unable to even crawl away like the first few times this had happened.
Few times...
It was like this was a game she was stuck in. A twisted world, an alternative nightmare, one in which a weaker version existed, one in which she had no voice, trapped and used. It was like all the evil in the world, You Know Who and his death eaters, losing her friends, losing Harry, nothing compared to how she felt when evil had first touched her. For that was the only word her mind could use, overtime she tried to suppress memories of the first time Ronald had violated her. She hated herself, hated the shell of a body she felt trapped in, carrying marks of Ronald's pleasure, her pain. Her vision fogged, and she struggled to speak, gasping as she felt him close her throat, lowering his massive body onto hers. Her robes were quickly tossed, she didn't struggle anymore, she had learned that the quicker she obliged the quicker her ordeal was over. Her conscience even searched for strains of comfort, hoped that maybe she could trick herself into wanting it. But she never did. Not like this. Not with him.
