"Tell me, Galia. Tell me, does he have it?"

"I shall never tell you."

"Why do you test my kindness?"

"There has never been anything kind about you."

"Tell me what I want to know!" His tone was a clear threat to her very existence.

"I have no children, Tom. You have nothing left to take from me."

"Tell me where he is!" He came close now, trying to see into her deformed eyes.

"You have never frightened me. You're just an oversized child playing with other's toys."

Voldemort snarled down at the seer. He needed her alive, he needed to see what she saw.

"Look at me!"

Galia turned her eyes away, "You'll never see what I see, you're not long for this world. Or the next. You've ravaged too much."

"You will bow to me!" The curse ripped from his wand with a mighty crack but the woman appeared impervious to his magic.

"I bow to no one."

oOo

Harry jolted awake so hard that he actually thumped his head on the bunk above him. He groaned deeply and rubbed his brow before rolling onto his side.

Ron and he had had a rather large blow up after they'd made it out of the castle. Even so far as throwing a few punches in the others direction. It was definitely the stress relief they had needed.

They were back in shaky terms, with Luna standing in for the voice of reason. She was going to be gone soon though, back at Hogwarts for the term. She was going to be their eyes and ears inside the castle. Hopefully, she could get the answers they could not.

They had decided on working on finding the next Horcrux but weren't sure where to start. Neither Harry nor Ron were very good at looking past the details to the finer hidden information beneath. That had always been Hermione's job.

Harry threw his legs over the side of the cot with a heavy sigh. It was still dark outside the tent, and felt way too early to be awake. Still so, he found himself unable to rest.

oOo

Snape pushed back the hair from his face. He'd put the woman in his care to bed. He'd cleaned and partially repaired the looking glass, banishing away the rest. He'd searched the office top to bottom finding nothing missing. He'd done everything he could think of to prolong the inevitable.

Now he sat bent over his desk, head in his hands. The night was heavily waning into early morning. He knew he needed to rest but he knew it would only bring nightmares of the night he had somehow survived. Dreamless sleep potion had never really worked on him. His mind was too active, even in sleep. He had never truly spent any time on creating something that would, as he considered his nightmares justice for his dark deeds.

Suddenly, the charm he'd set went off, disrupting his dark pensive and with all the will left in his body he raised his head. The one remaining functioning mirror had been adjusted over her rooms. He'd put the woman asleep in her own bed. She had gone willingly but didn't close her eyes until he sat beside her.

She was turning in the bed, tangled in the sheets that had been pushed down to her waist. Her eyes were closed but her face showed her distress. Her hands were clawing at her stomach. Was she having a nightmare? How could she? He'd given her dreamless sleep.

Hermione found herself in a dark room. It smelled of blood and sweat and something else her mind couldn't identify. A warm breath was beside her ear. Panting and groaning with their pleasure.

She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? She tried to move her dream self's head but found herself unable. This was a dream, it had to be, but was too real. Too clear.

The person pressed so tightly against her reeked of stale sweat and alcohol. His hands, small and coarse. She tried to pull herself back from his hold but only found something more troubling pressing in from behind.

Why couldn't she move?! She could feel her heart racing through her system as his hand rose higher, crawling like a spider up her stomach. Her entire body convulsed with revolution when he took hold of her chest.

"So beautiful, such a pity really... that you're tainted..."

She couldn't recognize the voice, she felt as though she should like she'd heard it sometime before. Why couldn't she scream? Why couldn't she beg him to stop? She could feel her mouth moving but no sound came forth. She tried with everything in her to call out, anything to make this torturous world end.

"I said I wouldn't leave a mark, but I hardly think a real death eater would take the time to look, everywhere."

Hermione cried out with all the force in her lungs, her eyes snapping open. The gears inside her mind ground, like she was fighting for control. Her real-self lost, falling back into the void. The last thing she would remember would be soft dark eyes looking into her own. Soft, dark...caring eyes.

Snape felt his heart sink to the bottoms of his feet when her hoarse scream fell on his ears, it was so unlike the others before, a desperate cry; of someone losing something so precious. He had seen her fighting to stay with him. Trying to push away the helplessness that had brought her where she was. It was over in a second, but the fall felt like an eternity.

His hand shifted from the back of her head to press the back of his fingers against her cheek. Her terror was gone but apathy stared at him now. Her eyes were lidded and her chest was still heaving. He swallowed thickly when her hand curled into his shirt.

"Do-n't...le-ave...me..." her voice trembled with a fear she didn't understand. Her body was pulsing under him, but she didn't feel afraid.

oOo

"Show me, Hermione Granger...projektas maxima..." Harry had taken to the small kitchen area of the tent so as not to disturb Luna or Ron.

The small space around him glowed with the projection and Harry set the mirror down on the table to take it in. The room looked different from before. He noticed the window and the door before turning.

His heart jumped into his throat as the man in black, who he now assumed to be Snape, leaned over. He was sat on the edge of the bed and Harry could only see the tousled covers by his hip and logic dictated the Hermione must have been on the other side of his hunched back.

oOo

Hermione lifted her arms, still heavy from the fearful dream she had escaped. The Professor was leaning over her, his hand felt so nice against her cheek. She was sleepy, but she didn't want to close her eyes. He was there, she was safe, but he wasn't inside her dreams.

"Di-rty..."

Snape leaned in just a bit more trying to hear her whispered slur. He had changed her clothes to soft flannel pajamas. He hadn't had the mind to summon Poppet for underclothes and had just transfigured something for her to go underneath. Though he'd left her bra-less, as he didn't have that much skill.

"Dirty..." Her hands came down again pushing up the bottom of her shirt. She could still feel the man's touch on her skin, she wanted it gone...she needed it to go away.

Snape shook his head still not understanding. Did she want to shower? It didn't seem logical. He leaned back, pulling his hand to his lap as he tried to think of anything that would help.

oOo

Harry was so still he could have been mistaken for a statue. Even though he couldn't see Snape's face clearly he could see his hands. He'd just watched the cruelest teacher he'd ever known touch his best friend with so much kindness.

It didn't seem real like he was caught in a dream. He almost wanted to pinch himself just to make sure. What happened next made him think that he truly was dreaming.

Hermione reached up towards him, her hands using his shirt as a way to pull herself up. Harry would have expected Snape to push her away but what nearly took his feet from under him was when he completed the embrace.

His eyes remained on Hermione, he had expected many things but none of what he expected was there. She looked...happy almost. Her head went down to his shoulder and even though she was crying she looked relieved. What had he done to her?

Harry came closer trying to read her lips but it was fruitless when she hid her face into his neck and behind his hair. Her fingers clawed at her own arms in a desperate attempt to hold him tighter.

They stayed that way for a long time, long enough for the mirror to start fading out, the last thing Harry saw was Snape lifting her out of bed and through a doorway the room they had entered caused the image to distort for a second before disappearing completely. The power of the mirror gone.

oOo

Snape knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew it through every fiber of his being. Still, he found himself weakened by fatigue and unwilling to process the thoughts pushing for precedence inside his mind. She had asked him, begged him really, to lay beside him. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of self- depreciation, and belief in the lies that had been told to her.

He had seen, for the briefest of moments what had sparked her sudden desire and he felt obligated to remove the thought from her mind. She wasn't dirty, she wasn't a tool to be used and thrown away. She wasn't truly a slave to anyone but her own wishes. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to assure her but he was bound just as she was.

He couldn't tell her, but he could show her. He could show her kindness and mercy he had been unable to before. He could twist his memories, make them out to be seen however they needed to be seen, even hers could be explained away by what had happened to her.

Though, if he were perfectly honest with himself, perhaps even just the tiniest bit, he wouldn't have found himself affronted by her request. Perhaps even, dare he think, relieved. No these thoughts did not come to him at present, but they were there, in the deepest part of what was left of him. His true self, the one he had wanted to be, before his life had taken such a terrible turn.

Hermione pulled her hands from around his neck when she felt and smelled the familiarity of his bed. She wasn't sure why it felt familiar nor why it brought her comfort. She didn't have the mind to dwell on it either, rather just accepting the feeling that it brought with.

Her eyes were growing heavier. She struggled just a bit longer to hold on. She needed to be aware of him beside her, needed to know without a doubt, that he wasn't going to leave her side. Her head turned as he moved away, watching him as he moved to the other side of the bed. When he pulled the covers down and slipped beneath, a deep sigh rolled through her.

Closer, she wanted him closer.

Snape did his best not to pull away from her searching hand. He wanted to say that he didn't heed her silent request. That he would never have turned towards her. That he would have fought her should she pull his arm over her stomach, pressing the palm of it into her bare skin. He wanted to deny everything that flowed through him in that moment. But he couldn't.

Snape felt his own eyelids beginning to drop. It was hard not to fall victim to the hypnotically slow rise and fall of her stomach beneath his hand. The hands that had held him there had fallen away. He should have pulled back then, he should have taken the lounge in that moment. He should have... but he didn't.

oOOo

"I don't think you should go back. What if they try to take you again?" Harry looked up from the small bowl of oatmeal they had managed for breakfast. Ron was still sleeping but Luna had woken at the first light of dawn to find him having fallen asleep at the table.

"They don't need me anymore, they have my Dad. They just wanted him to stop printing positive articles about you. We're not that important in the grand scheme of things. It's you he wants." Luna's voice was kind as she took a bite, "Besides, it's the best way to help you get into the castle. I can make a two-way parchment so we can communicate with each other."

"Alright...but if anything happens I want you to get yourself out of there..." Harry didn't even want to think about her getting hurt, or worse.

"That's Hermione's jumper." Ron's voice chilled the small room, his eyes narrowed and dark. He'd surprised them both, each one turning their heads towards him. Luna just looked sad, while Harry looked furious.

"It's cold Ron, she hasn't got much else." Harry stood ready to defend his choice. He hadn't really thought about it when he'd given it to her. It was just something warm and clean.

Ron snarled at Harry, "It's not hers. Give her something else."

"There is nothing else to give her." Their meager clothes supply was running out, they hadn't been stationary long enough for any of them to attempt to clean any of it.

"It's alright." Luna slowly came to her feet. The jumper was oversized for her but not grossly so, it was very warm and smelled faintly of what she remembered Hermione to smell like.

Harry turned to her then about to object but Luna had already taken hold of the hem. When she pulled it up over her head, the small camisole she'd been wearing underneath came up with it. Harry's eyes went wide at what he saw. Ron too felt something painful rising inside him.

Her stomach and waist were covered with deep looking bite marks. They looked old, but not too old. Harry could feel his heart in his throat when she finally got the jumper over her head. Her upper arms that had always been covered were revealed, exposing the true nature of what, he could guess, had really gone on in the cellar at Malfoy Manor.

"Luna... why... why didn't you say anything?" Harry was struck dumb as she gave him a curious look.

"About what?" Her eyes turned to Ron and she approached to give him Hermione's, now folded, jumper.

"About... that?" Harry motioned to her arms, neck and what he could see of her chest through the modest neck of the camisole. She was covered in yellowing marks all over, all in different stages of healing.

Luna glanced down briefly, and for a moment, a brief second, Harry could see something flash over her eyes. Then just as quick as it came it was gone and she was giving him that same caring smile she always had. "It's nothing."

She glanced at Ron when she brushed past the two of them into the main room. She bent down where she'd left her sweater and picked it up. The arm was still torn on the one side and she wasn't entirely sure how to fix it but she was going to do her best.

"You're a right arse." Harry snarled under his breath at Ron who for once had the sense to look guilty.

oOo

Snape had woken to an empty bed. Something to which sent his heart into overdrive and almost gave him a true heart attack. His wand was in his hand in a second, his feet on the floor in the next.

A soft sob from the bathroom caught is immediate attention and he quickly took the strides over and without a thought threw open the door. He went immediately still for a few seconds too long, his heart pounding hard enough it surely could be seen through his skin.

Granger was topless. More than that, she was facing him almost completely as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. Her face was red and splotchy from her tears. When she raised her head it was so full of hurt and confusion even she couldn't really process the predicament they were in.

Hermione had woken to another dream, another memory. She was sure it was, it had been of him, of the man standing in front of her now. How he staged their escape from a room she had never seen before. Her mind was a total mess, it felt like she was living two lives.

"Dirty..." Her voice was still hoarse but clearer than before. She held a flannel in her hand that dripped from water that was still running from the sink. Her skin looked raw, it made him wince just to see it.

His wand lowered down and he tried to get his brain to catch up with the rest of him. He couldn't let her continue, she was liable to break the skin. He shook his head slowly but found nothing he could say. Her mind was stuck on repeat, the same memory that had woken her in a panic before.

"Stop...don't...do that... I'll... I'll find something..." His body jerked for a moment as she set the flannel down in the sink, her chest too was just as red. Who had done this to her?

He turned out of the doorway to his potions cabinet. He searched through pulling down two salves, a draught of peace and an empty vial. He took a moment to calm himself before turning back towards the bathroom. She still hadn't returned. Was she gone? Would he ever see the hatred in her eyes for him again?

He returned with a new purpose on his brow. He had decided that night that her part in this war was over. He needed to get her out, to hell with Dumbledore's convoluted plan. He was going to make his own.

"Turn around..." He couldn't very well think properly with her standing as she was, so exposed, so trusting. It ignited something inside him that he wasn't willing to examine. When she did as she was told, he set down all he had brought with him onto the counter and summoned the bench from beside the shower. He sat down slowly, pushing his mess of hair back from his face.

The first salve would help heal the skin that she so furiously tried to scrub away, the second would heal whatever had been there in the first place. He could see on her back a sort of pattern, like something had rubbed against her repeatedly. His eyes narrowed a little and his fingertips grazed over the sensitive area.

Hermione flinched and curled her arms up to her chest. Why was he touching her? Didn't he know? Didn't he know how filthy she was? Her breath hitched when she felt the warmth of the salve under his fingers. He was so gentle, so unlike the other's who had used her for what she was. It was cathartic. Like his hands alone could wash away her sin.

Snape kept his focus, still, so, he could feel her thoughts. It pained him that she believed them. That she could ever believe herself to be below the scum who had done this to her. He wanted to tell her, desperately. His hand ran flat running up the dip of her spine. He couldn't tell her, but he could show her. Show her that he wasn't afraid to touch her.

In reality, he was afraid to touch her. Not because he believed she was somehow tainted but because his role in her life thus far had built a wall that he never even dreamed of breaking down. The barrier between them, their teacher-student relationship was strong but their lives had changed. His role had changed.

He forced himself to try and see her as she had been, happy, full of life and promise. It was impossible now. All he could see was her death, most likely by his hand. How far one could go in just a few days, it was staggering.

"Turn around..." His voice was scratchy and thick with sleep and he had to clear his throat. When he looked up again he surely wasn't prepared.

She had turned on the spot, the bottom of her chest now level with his head. Her arms were by some grace of God still wrapped over but he could clearly make out the small bruises by the crescent nail shaped marks that were hiding beneath her forearm.

He pushed her back a step by her hips before regaining his composure. He turned his eyes down to her stomach that was flexing with every breath. Her nail marks mixed with something else that appeared to be irritating her skin. He could make out small red dots that seemed to trail up. Had she been bitten by something? Flees perhaps?

He frowned more and pulled the deep purple salve from the counter onto his knee. Whatever it was had definitely irritated the area and her merciless scrubbing hadn't done the infection any favors.

He tried not to put any thought into it but when her stomach jumped to his touch he paused, "I know it hurts..."

Hermione shook her head slightly, it did hurt, but that wasn't what had caused her to flinch. Her mind was turning, like something else was pressing into her. Like someone else was trying to reach her. She turned her focus instead to the top of his head, trying to ignore whatever was calling out to her. She didn't want to leave, she was with the Professor.

Snape massaged the purple salve over the entire expanse hoping to curb off whatever it was that had bitten her. He didn't actually think about where he was going until the arms that had been protecting her modesty moved aside to let him pass. His eyes rose up without truly thinking, it wasn't until he could make out the obvious fingerprints over her rounded flesh did he really process.

Should he? Could he? The anger that was building was clouding his judgment. How dare anyone touch her? His eyes rose to hers then, "Who did this?" His tone was sharp but it didn't seem to affect her.

"A man..."

"What man?"

"I don't know..." Her voice softly trembled and her arms came back to cover the mark but his hands stopped her. What did he want from her?

"Show me."

Hermione shook her head to protest but the brand flared to life on her neck. Tears started to flood her eyes as her body forced her to relive the memory she had so valiantly tried to push away.

Snape watched it all, unaware that his grip had tightened. He would find that Snatcher and rip his insides out through his nose. So many feelings pushed to the surface then, so many long forgotten feelings. He wanted- no, needed to protect her. More than he ever had before. He wanted to kill for her.

"Please...please stop it..."

Her plea broke the connection and her eyes closed tight. She curled herself away from his hold trying to cover her shame. The man's words were right in her ear. Reminding her of her true place in the world. She'd never fought it before but someone else was fighting it for her. Someone else inside was pressing hard to the surface.

Snape breathed heavily through his nose and forced his grip to relax. He had to do it. There was no other way. He picked his wand from beside his foot and raised it up to her temple, "Sano recipero..."

He turned his wand slowly, pulling the horrid memory from her mind's eye. The spell he'd cast wouldn't completely erase the memory but rather fade it out, hide it away in the deepest areas. Like an old forgotten childhood memory.

As the last of it pulled free, he could see her visibly relax and without a thought, he stored it into the empty vial. He would view it himself later. More clearly and possibly more complete than the one she had been forced to show him before. He set the vial aside and gathered his own strength. He pulled her one step closer and dipped his hand down into the salve. He would cleanse her. He would make her whole again.

Hermione's eyes opened to the gentle kneading. The soft movements of well-skilled fingers moving over her bruised flesh. The pain she'd experienced mixed with the pleasure that was forced through the action. Her breath sounded loud to her ears as she watched him work. Like a drug, the pleasure that shouldn't have been there spread through her limbs and unlike before she found herself pressing into his presence.