Falling Upon Deaf Ears

Disclaimer: J.K.R. owns these characters, and I'm just using them.

Thanks go to my beta, NotSoSaintly. I offer her hugs and liquor for taking the time to beta this story even though she doesn't care for the plot.

And also, thanks to Charmed Nay for having a look over this.

Warning: As with the first and second chapters, remember that this story depicts a situation where Snape takes complete advantage of Hermione. Please do not read it if you are bothered by this.

I put a cork in the last phial. "Well, Poppy, I guess we're all done here. Snape should be back soon," I tell her, wondering if she'll speak to me. The woman takes the phial and places it on a shelf without even looking my way. "What happened to you?" I blurt suddenly and not for the first time. I ask this question every now and again. It is quite hard to see her in such a way, but she never seems to want to talk.

The woman simply stares at me, minutely shaking her head as if to say that she doesn't want to talk about it. That much was obvious already, seeing as she never talks about anything... to anyone. We have now been in Snape's home just over a year and a half, and Poppy has not uttered one syllable to any of us.

Silence suits me just fine. There is nothing much to talk about anyway...nothing good. Minerva can talk and use her upper body, and thus, she takes up much of Snape's free time now. I listen to them as they chat and play chess. Snape confides things to her about the events of the war and Harry's struggles, and McGonagall reminisces with him about the old days when things had been so simple. This annoys me to no end. How can she be so blind? How can he be so fucking devious?

How can he sit with the woman, have amicable conversations, and exude such charm when I know what he is truly like? It just makes me hate him all the more. It makes me resent my old Head of House as well. How can she not see through his fake laughter and look into his dark eyes to see the monster within? How can she not know that Snape, her friend, takes what he wants from someone who is unable to stop him nearly every night?

There are rarely any tears. Those stopped months ago when I came to realize that this is to be my lot in life. I will give him what he wants, albeit reluctantly, and he will give us the protection we need to survive and give Harry the help he needs to win. I used to think about the days when I would finally leave this place and be rid of him, but thoughts such as those are few and far between as of late. It seems like the end will never come...either end: victory or death.

It's not that I want to die, but I am uncertain how long I can live such an existence. Stop, Hermione. You've never been a quitter. Things will get better. Harry will come for you, a voice whispers to me. Even as I hear the voice and think about Harry whisking me away to a better place, how can I ever face him after all I've been doing? Will he take one look at me and know that I am nothing more than Snape's whore? If he ever looked upon me with disgust, I don't think I'd be able to bear it.

I don't believe that Minerva or Poppy know about Snape's nocturnal visits, but if he continues to be as bold as he has been lately, they might find out...either by hearing or seeing. He never uses a Silencing Charm that I know of, and lately, he's been touching me as I work in his laboratory or while I sit down for a read. It makes me paranoid because I don't want them to know about my dirty deeds. The shame is a hard enough burden to carry on my own without them knowing. If either of the women would find out and Snape chose to carry on, they could do nothing to stop it anyway. It would only strain things between us all, but it would be a relief to be able to talk about it openly to someone. Maybe Minerva could force him to leave me alone. No, I must stop thinking such things.

When the front door slams, I know that he's come home. Poppy and I have completed the work in his laboratory after we'd seen to it that an evening meal had been prepared. In hopes of avoiding Snape as long as possible, I quickly say to Poppy, "I'm not going to eat until later. You can go on without me." She nods once and starts to leave the room, but a sudden towering presence blocks her escape.

"Finishing up, I see," Snape says as he takes in the scene before him.

"I'm wiping down the table and will be done in a moment." I don't look up at him and continue wiping the top, hoping he'll go away. "Dinner is ready. Poppy was just going to go eat."

"By all means, Poppy," he says silkily, "go eat dinner. We shall be along in a few minutes. See if Minerva is awake and fix her a portion."

This causes me to look up. No, no, no... not right now. When I do, I notice Poppy looking at me strangely. Does she know something? Surely not. My eyes then lift to meet his. I make certain to narrow my eyes and harden my expression in hopes he'll go away, but that is not to be. Once Poppy exits, he closes the door and wards it. He makes his way to me without a word and begins to unfasten his robes. I back away slightly as he does so.

"I need you to do something for me," he says grimly.

"What would that be?" I ask, taking another step back, figuring that he wanted me to touch him.

He says nothing, opening his robes. I immediately see the messy, bloody wound on his right side. "What's happened?" I ask at once while gathering some salves and a potion.

"Battle," he replies, staggering a little.

"Lie down on the tabletop." I am surprised when he gathers me close, points his wand to the door to unward it, and Apparates us to his private bedchambers. The moment we are there, he finishes with his disrobing and lies down atop his bed. I look away from his body, though I am familiar with it. It's quite different to feel something against your skin in a dimly lit room than to see it presented to you in such a way. I gather my courage, go to the loo connected to his room to fetch some water and cloths, and get busy with cleaning the wound.

"You could do this with your wand, you know," I mention.

"Not the same."

That was true. I'd learnt that from Poppy the previous year. She'd said that in the more serious cases it was better to not simply use magic to clean the wounds, as magic's touch wasn't like a human's. There are so many things I want to ask Snape, but I know he'll not tell me. I'll simply have to wait to hear it from Minerva. Part of me is happy that he's hurt, thinking it serves him right, but the other part of me is glad that he's all right. Not that I care, mind, but if he simply doesn't come home one day, we may never be found and would likely starve to death, thanks to his ruddy warding around the house.

Once the wound is clean and medicated, I say, "Use your wand to close your flesh." It seems as if he'd been cut with a knife. Of course, some hexes have the same effect, so it is very hard to tell. He flicks his wand, and the skin closes back up, still looking raw and irritated. "Do you need anything?" I ask, cringing inwardly after I realize I've left an open invitation.

Surprisingly, he says, "No, I will rest now and eat later."

I nod and flee. It's the first time that he and I have been alone together in many weeks where he hasn't touched me or forced me to touch him. A feeling of relieved excitement passes through me. Maybe there is hope after all. Suddenly in the mood to eat, I go to the kitchen and find Poppy sitting at the table, sipping on her soup. I quickly fix a bowl of my own and sit across from her.

My mood is so good that I want to talk. "Snape was wounded in a battle. I tended to him." Poppy says nothing. Remembering the way she'd looked at me before, I bring up, "I saw how you looked at me earlier. I hope you don't think that I like being alone with him." It is as close to admitting anything as I am prepared to say. However, I am startled when I look up and note the disbelieving expression upon her face. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

The woman smirks slightly and bows her head to take another bite of soup. I can't believe that she... thinks that I want to be alone with him. So she does know that you are his personal harlot! a voice accuses. It is suddenly very important for me to explain things. I lower my voice and say, "Poppy, I do not like being alone with him. You have no idea why, and I'll not say exactly what I mean."

A slight "hmph" escapes Poppy's lips. I am astounded...first because she made a sound and second because she seems to not believe my words.

I close my gaping mouth and go back to eating my soup. How could she not believe me? What has caused her to gather such an opinion? Unable to eat, I slam my spoon down and face her squarely. "I don't know that I appreciate your little comment." No reply. "Furthermore, I think that when a grown man, one whom I've always respected on some level and believed I could trust, comes to my room at night and rapes me...yes, I said rape. It's an ugly word, isn't it? Anyway, I think it's horrible, and you cannot know how I feel! Don't you dare judge me or make assumptions about what goes on between us!"

Poppy wipes her mouth with a napkin and gazes at me for a moment. Then, she whispers, "A few Death Eaters paid a visit to me not long before you and the others showed up. Don't tell me that I don't know what it feels like to be assaulted." She throws her napkin down and continues with, "Nearly the entire time that we've been here, you and he have been secretly seeing each other. You may not have invited him in at first, but you didn't turn him out all the same."

"That makes it all right?" I ask, feeling indignation rising within me.

"Severus helps us, Hermione. Minerva doesn't need to be worried with this. You'd better keep your mouth shut, and think of the reasons that brought him to you in the first place." She pushes her bowl aside and rises. "Look at the things you wear...sleeveless shirts, short skirts and shorts, and anytime you lean over, we can see straight down your shirt." She looks away from me. "You enticed him and brought this on yourself." As she puts her bowl on the countertop, she turns back and says, "Be glad it's only Severus, and don't ruin things for us. If he is weak, you should bring him some soup and feed him." With that said, she strides off, leaving me completely horrified.

"These are all the clothes that I have," I say weakly, hurt that she'd accused me of wanting what I'd received. Have I given him some unknowing invitation? That couldn't be the case. In the beginning, I only talked to him when he talked to me first, but I did work closely with him, learning the new steps needed for the odd potions I had to make and caring for Minerva. Maybe he thought I was purposely leaning over to give him a view of my cleavage? These thoughts anger me. How dare Poppy say such things to me? I didn't ask for this. While I feel sorry that she experienced any type of assault...especially at the hands of more than one attacker...I can't believe that she acted so dispassionately towards me. It was almost as if she were saying that it had happened to her, so it should happen to me, too, to be fair.

"I shouldn't have said anything." It just seemed so important to let her know that I didn't like Snape's company. At least I know how others would think if I told them. Snape and Minerva get on so well that she'd likely feel the same way that Poppy does. Having lost my appetite, I rise and place my bowl on the countertop. Maybe she's right. If Snape is content, he'll think more clearly while facing Voldemort and helping Harry, and he'll be able to protect us.

While I ladle soup into a bowl for Snape, I fantasize about adding in some poison, though I know I'll never do it. The amused smile fades from my face as I resign myself to the fate of tending to him. I walk to his room, slowly open the door, and approach his bed. His room now has only one candle lit near his bed, making me feel more comfortable. I sit next to him and bring a hand to his forehead. It is slightly warm to the touch but not alarmingly so. The potion seems to be working. A hand suddenly grabs my wrist, and I notice that his eyes are open.

"I was just... checking," I say quickly, nodding to the soup in my other hand. "Are you hungry?"

"I am," he replies but makes no move to reach for the food.

Pulling my hand away from his grip, I say, "I'll just leave this here then." I lean over to place the bowl on his nightstand. "Good night."

The moment I attempt to slide off the bed, his hand ensnares my wrist again. This time, however, he guides it to his bare chest and holds it there. "Stay."

"Snape..." I begin, meaning to protest, but then I remember Poppy's words. You enticed him and brought this on yourself. Perhaps I shouldn't have touched his forehead, causing him to think that I care. That could be why he requested my continued presence. More of Poppy's unkind advice flits through my mind. Be glad it's only Severus, and don't ruin things for us.

Sighing despairingly, I pull from his grasp, stand, and undress. Before I move to lie with him, I blow the candle next to the bed out, shrouding us in darkness. Once I am in bed, he pulls my hand down to his penis and moves it along the limp flesh. I feel it twitch and harden slightly beneath my palm. His hand abandons mine, and I know he intends for me to continue touching him. When I do so, he whispers, "Good girl," and brings a hand up to touch my breast, causing its nipple to harden.

I hate him. I hate Poppy... and even Minerva. Most of all, I hate myself.

Southern's Notes: It's quite sad, but sometimes telling someone what's going on only makes things worse. I'll never forget attending a wedding when I was fifteen with my aunt, her husband, and two kids. That night, her husband made a pass at me. I woke up and found him lying next to me, touching my breast. I said I had to go to the loo and locked myself in there for hours. I didn't say anything until a couple of years later, never even facing him, but one night, another one of my aunts was talking to me and made me feel compelled to confide that to her.

She said that she remembered the strapless, satin dress that I'd wore to the wedding and I'd likely enticed him or given him the wrong signals. (She even commented on why I should keep quiet, especially after such a long time.) That hurt so much, and I simply couldn't believe that she'd say such a thing. Luckily, I didn't tell her anything else personal. Needless to say, I don't see her much, and it doesn't bother me in the least. I've also grown into a very suspicious adult and trust no one...not even family...when it comes to my son. I don't let him sleep anyplace besides my parents' home or my mother-in-law's home.

Anyway, there will be one other chapter after this one. I feel the need to tie things up and release Hermione from this situation. Cheers.