Hurt

A/N: This is a story about Hermione, lies, and fear. It takes place during and after the events in DH, ignoring the epilogue and allowing certain characters to live. This story has several implied themes including, but not limited to: rape, non-con, mental manipulation, BDSM, and phobias. If you feel that these may offend you, I recommend you seek out a different story.

Agoraphobia – The abnormal fear of being helpless in a situation from which escape may be difficult that is characterized initially by panic or anxiety and finally by avoidance of open or public places. As a result, severe suffers of agoraphobia may become confined to their homes, experiencing difficulty traveling from this "safe place."

In case you live under a rock, Harry Potter and associated characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Chapter title is from The Downward Spiral, Nine Inch Nails.

~*~

Chapter 6 – Hurt

Hagrid sat at his table, tending to an injured porlock, when he heard the low buzzing sound of one of the many wards keyed to alert him. It took him a moment to remember what that particular one was for.

It couldn't be. He hadn't heard that alarm in over fourteen years. That one was for when Severus Snape came back injured from a Death Eater meeting.

"Them wards shoulda been disabled after the poor man died," he grumbled to himself as he walked to the gate to check on them.

As he approached the gates, he saw a crumpled grey form on the ground in front of them. When he got closer, he realized that it was a man lying there in the path. He was wearing a drab grey shift. His long, black hair hung down to the middle of his back. It was full of tangles and looked as if someone had hacked at it with a knife.

He rolled the mass onto its back and was startled to see the face of a man who had died over thirteen years ago.

"I don' know who you are, mister, but this kind a joke ain' funny. I oughta call the Aurors; don' know if you'll last long 'nough for them to get here though. Guess it'd be best to get ya' to Poppy."

He picked up the man and carried him to Hogwarts.

~*~

Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter arrived back at the gates of Hogwarts to see Hagrid disappearing into the castle carrying a large bundle. The two of them made their way into the castle and up to McGonagall's office to discuss the day's events.

When they entered, Harry noticed that one of the many orbs along the mantle was glowing green. Strange, he had never noticed them there before.

"Professor, what is that orb there."

"Those are the teacher's alarm orbs. Each one represents a different teacher. They glow when that teacher is in danger or injured. I cannot remember ever seeing that one glow before. I am not sure who it is for. I'm sure Albus could tell us whose it is."

She walked up to the portrait of the previous Headmaster to try and get his attention. She was startled to see his picture empty. Albus never left. His only other portrait hung in an area rarely visited by anyone.

"Well this is certainly a first. He is always here," she said to herself.

"Where would he have gone?" Harry asked the Headmistress.

"He has another portrait in the infirmary, though he never goes there."

"All the time I have spent in there and I never noticed any portraits," Harry laughed.

"It is in a private room used mostly by teachers during the war."

Harry nodded. He learned something new about the castle every day it seemed.

"Albus, I really need to speak to you," she yelled to the blank picture. It took a few moments before the wizard came back into view. He looked from McGonagall to Harry and then let his gaze fall on the glowing orb.

"Minerva. Harry. How nice to see you both this evening, or is it early morning already?"

"Albus, where were you? We seem to have an injured teacher somewhere, and I am not sure who it is. These damn orbs are yours, maybe you can help."

"Ah, yes, the orbs. He is being tended to at this moment, I assure you."

"What do you mean by he is being tended to? How can you possibly know? The only teachers here are Harry, Hagrid and I. I know that is not Hagrid's orb."

"No, it is not. I must go and check on my boy."

The portrait was blank again.

"My boy. He hasn't called anyone that since..."

The fireplace flared and Poppy Pomfrey's head was floating just inside.

"Minerva, you must come quickly. It's, well, it's impossible, but... just come through and see for yourself."

Her head disappeared, and Harry and McGonagall made their way to the fireplace to Floo to the infirmary.

They appeared in Poppy's office a few moments later to see Hagrid standing just outside a door that Harry had never noticed before.

"Hagrid, what is going on? Who is in there?" McGonagall asked.

"A dead man."

"Dead? Someone died," Harry blurted out.

"No, the man is alive but he is also dead."

"Hagrid, you are starting to sound like Dumbledore." The headmistress sighed.

"Sorry, Professor. The alarms sounded earlier. I went ta check on the gates an' I found a man lying in front o' them, a man I recognized 'cept he's been dead for years. So I thought maybe it were a joke, but Poppy tells me it's really him."

Harry shook his head, trying to make sense of what he just heard. Hagrid seemed very upset, perhaps that made him make less sense than normal. Before McGonagall could ask him to explain, Poppy came out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her. She motioned for them to have a seat.

"Poppy, please explain what is going on. Who do you have in there?"

She looked from McGonagall to Harry, searching for a way to soften the blow. She was never one to beat around the bush, but in this instance, she found herself reluctant to be direct. How do you tell someone that a person long thought dead was alive? Gathering her courage, the nurse took a deep breath.

"You both must promise not to upset my patient in anyway. He has been through entirely too much already."

McGonagall had a confused look on her face. Harry, who had very little patience, sighed and said, "Fine. Just tell us who it is."

"Severus Snape."

Harry turned to look at McGonagall as she spoke the name. Looking at Poppy, he saw that she was nodding in confirmation.

"I'll kill him. All this time, we thought he was dead. I testified about his innocence. After tonight and everything we have learned. He took Hermione. He did all those horrible things to her."

"Harry, you don't know if that is true. I am sure there is an explanation," McGonagall said.

"You know it's true. You said yourself it was his handwriting. I already know he can Obliviate someone, and I seen him kill Dumbledore. He obsessed over my mother for years. Hermione and she are similar in many ways. That's probably why he took her." He jumped to his feet and began pacing the small office.

"Hermione? Professor Snape took our little Hermione. Are ya' sure? 'Cause the man I seen tonight wouldn't have been capable of doing anything," Hagrid remarked.

"He's capable. He's evil and I trusted him. Again! I even named my son after him."

Harry's voice had started to rise and he was almost shouting. The events of the day were really beginning to get to him. After Dumbledore's death, he had wanted nothing more than to see Snape strung up by his genitals. Then, when he'd viewed the man's memories, he felt saddened that he had not trusted him more. He had believed the man to be innocent. Now he felt utterly betrayed, again. McGonagall may not want to believe it, but the signs were clear as far as he was concerned.

"Harry, did you really find Miss Granger?" Poppy asked.

Harry just glared at her and continued pacing. McGonagall filled Hagrid and Poppy in on all they had found out over the last eighteen hours. When she was finished, Poppy looked at Harry, who had stopped pacing to lean against the doorframe.

"Harry, I can assure you that whoever did this to Miss Granger, it was not Severus Snape."

"Oh, I suppose it is just some strange, cosmic coincidence that they have both come back from the dead on the same day. All the signs point to him," he sneered.

"No, that is not what I am saying. Hagrid is right. The man in that room is not capable of doing anything for himself, let alone being responsible for all that was done to Miss Granger."

When Harry went to interrupt her, she just held up her hand. Harry promptly closed his mouth.

"At first, Hagrid and I thought it was some cruel joke that someone was playing, a Polyjuiced imposter or something. All my scans tell me that he is Severus. A barely recognizable and broken Severus."

"I am sure whatever is wrong with him, he did it to himself."

"Harry, you don't talk 'bout the professor that way. You told me yourself he saved us all," Hagrid said.

"He fooled us all. You heard what Professor McGonagall said. He was responsible. Those were his potions in that cupboard," Harry said, his anger still evident.

McGonagall had had enough of Harry's tirade. She knew he was hurting and desperate to blame someone, anyone, for his friend's rape and torture, but this had gone on long enough, and they were no closer to finding answers to their questions. What was wrong with Severus? Why did they both reappear now? Who did this to Hermione and Severus? She would not allow him to condemn the man until they had proof, one way or the other.

It was late. She was tired. They needed to discuss this rationally.

"Harry, you will sit down and be quiet, or I will place you in a Body-Bind."

A glance at her face showed the reasons the Gryffindors of his age rarely disobeyed their former Head of House. The stern look the witch was giving him left little question as to his options. He took his seat and sat quietly, waiting for Poppy to continue.

Minerva looked at Harry to make sure he was complying before addressing Poppy again.

"Please, tell us what you know."

"I have healed everything physically that I can. His mental state, well, I think with time that might heal as well."

Gathering her thoughts, she began to list the physical injuries, ignoring the gasps and the curses uttered by the others in the room as she went through the list of his injuries.

"He is severely malnourished. I have no doubt that this has been going on over a long period of time. His bones are weak and brittle from the loss of nutrients.

"He had several broken bones that had been poorly healed. I had to break and reset several of them. His ankle was so badly broken and damaged, I had to fuse the joint together. He will walk with a limp for the rest of his life. I gave him some Skele-gro. He will have to continue with doses, along with a nutrient potion, for the next few weeks until his bones are stronger.

"His back is a mass of crisscrossing scars and sores, as if he was regularly whipped. I healed the worst of them and dealt with the residual infections. I was able to clear up some of the scars; unfortunately some were too old and too severe to heal completely.

"The wound on his neck from Nagini was also poorly healed. The scar tissue that developed made it almost impossible for him to turn his head. I had to lance off most of the built up tissue and then close the wound again. I am hopeful that with therapy he can regain some motion in his neck."

A pause, to gather her courage once again. The injuries she had listed already were easy. Superficial, even, compared to the others. The ones left sent a shiver down her spine, and she had been a nurse here for some forty years and through two wars. A deep breath and then she continued.

"There were severe lacerations on his hands and ankles. The leather straps, that I assume were used to tie him in place, had long ago dug into the skin. These wounds were not treated, and the skin was allowed to grow back, embedding the straps into the skin.

"I had to be very careful when removing the straps that had grown into the skin. The hands are very delicate, and I did not want to cause any more damage than necessary. There may be some mild nerve damage, but that is all.

"He has been brutally raped, on more than one occasion. I would say that this went on throughout his imprisonment, wherever that was. Judging by the amount of damage, it is quite possible that objects were frequently used to penetrate him. I removed several splinters and what I suspect is ginger from his anus."

She looked to their faces. Hagrid had slow, quiet tears running into his beards. McGonagall was sobbing openly into a handkerchief. Harry was lost in his own head. It was clear to them all that they had failed two of the heroes from the war.

"Fuck."

Snape was supposed to be dead. Harry saw him die. He was present at the burial when they had placed his coffin into the ground. He had visited this man's grave at least twice a year since then.

"Fuck."

Harry felt his anger at the man slip away. There was no way he could be responsible for Hermione in the condition he was in. What sick, sadistic bastard was running loose in the Wizarding world? Were the similarities in Hermione's and Snape's condition a coincidence? Was the same wizard responsible for both?

"Poppy, you said something about his mental state. Is he awake? Were you able to question him at all as to who did this to him?" Harry asked, slipping back into his Auror role.

"He was conscious and aware. Unfortunately, he would not speak to me directly. He would only talk to Albus."

~*~

A/N: My thanks to Sempra for reading through this, time and time again, until I got it all right.