A Light in the Dark

5 Years Earlier:

-Scotland, U.K.

A howling wind tore its way around the long turrets of Gryffindor Tower, vibrating the ancient stone.

A flash of lightning and a resounding clap of thunder awoke the young woman who had been sleeping restlessly in the top-most room, tossing and turning in her bed until her blankets were nothing but a bunched pile near her feet.

A cold sweat soaking her shirt to her skin, Hermione Granger snapped awake, hand automatically going for the bedside table. She looked frantically around her private rooms, pointing her wand into the moonlit darkness, seeking the demons, daring them to come.

When her challenge was unmet, she slumped back into her pillows, covering her face with her hands. Her body shook as she tried to hold back a sob.

This had been happening all too frequently of late.

Harshly swiping at her eyes, she looked back to her nightstand where a bottle of Dreamless Sleep stood, still corked. She would be damned if she was going to resort to drugging herself to get a good night's sleep.

After a moment of staring blankly at the dark blue bottle of sleeping draught, she suddenly snatched it from the table and threw it violently against the far wall. She slammed her hands against the mattress in frustration.

"Damn him!" she cried, her voice wavering with fury.

She slid out of bed, the night air cool on her skin. She was clad in a simple tank top and pants set, and she knew that she should dress more warmly, but she was determined to run from, if not entirely escape, her demons... right now.

Snatching her black cloak from the hook by the door, she threw it haphazardly around her shoulders.

"Damn him to the ninth circle of Hell..." she muttered, emphasizing the last word as she harshly adjusted the cloak about her shoulders.

She slipped her feet into her sandals, secured her wand, and stole quietly out into the corridor, silently warding the door behind herself.

No one crossed her path as she slipped silently through the castle.

The staircases seemed to sense her haste and made a quick path to the ground floor. She silently thanked the sentient castle when she reached the main hallway in short order.

Still seeing no one, she slipped quickly into the shadows and out the small side door leading to the fountain courtyard. Its covered walkway was the perfect haven for a person to find solitude on a night such as this.

A quick sprint through the drizzle and she entered under a stone archway, trailing her fingers over the soft moss at its edge. It was a small ritual of sorts – she let the castle know she was there, and it kept her securely hidden.

The storm wind caught her hair, throwing it across her face as she found her way to what she thought of as 'her spot.' It was a recess at the end of the walkway. With the castle at its left side and back, and the open archway of a window at its right side, it gave her a full view of the Black Lake and the mountains beyond.

It was beautiful.

The moon still shone brightly, though blurred slightly by the increasingly steady rain. She hopped into the cozy space, which was still untouched by moisture, and tucked her cloak around herself. Casting a simple nonverbal Disillusionment Charm, she relaxed back into the stone with a sigh.

Reaching up into a tiny, hidden crevice, she pulled out a Muggle lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

She laughed to herself.

Hermione Granger, apprentice and brightest witch of her age, had been hiding a pack of fags from all and sundry.

She did not really care what others thought, but tobacco was not allowed on school grounds, at least not in possession of students. While she was not a student, she would still hate to set a bad example.

Rule breaker! her subconscious screamed, shaking its mental finger in her face.

"Oh, do shut up," she said to herself, placing the fag between her lips and cupping her palm around it as she flicked the lighter to life. She inhaled deeply, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. After a moment, she exhaled, the wind blowing the smoke away in violent swirls.

Her hands rested across her knees, which were pulled up to her chest. As she watched the ring of fire burn the white paper of the fag to ash, a small flicker of light in the distance caught her attention.

Her head snapped up – she was instantly on alert.

As she had heard all too often of late, these were dark and dangerous times. It would be foolish to follow strange lights into the darkness. The Gryffindor in her boldly reminded her that it might also be foolish to disregard strange lights in the darkness.

Against her better judgment, she stowed her pack of contraband in an inner pocket and slid out of her haven back into the walkway. She took one last drag from the cig before flicking it into the darkness and drawing her wand.

Eyes never leaving the light, which was steadily growing fainter, she followed it into the night.

No! cried her inner voice, once again. You mustn't!

Ignoring her conscience, she walked quickly but carefully, the rain soaking her within a few minutes. As cold and wet as she was, she dare not cast a Shielding Charm or light her wand for fear of detection.

Detection from what?

From whom?

With the wards up, no one dangerous could get onto the grounds.

Well, no one dangerous that wasn't already here, she thought to herself.

If that's the case, then what the hell are you doing, wandering off alone in the rain, in the dark?

You have absolutely no sense of adventure, she chided her inner voice.

Ignoring any more comments from her conscience, she watched the light working its way in and out of the trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It seemed to be moving erratically... perhaps searching... but for what?

She slowed her pace as she came to the first huge tree marking the edge of the formidable woods. She stepped carefully over its roots as she cautiously made her way further in.

The light was closer now, brighter.

After a few minutes of trailing after the bobbing orb, she stopped under the branches of an ancient oak – the forest floor was not exactly made for traipsing about in sandals.

Leaning back against the trunk, she closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through her nose, she regained her composure and looked up.

The light was gone.

There was no trace of it within her field of vision.

"Damn," she swore under her breath. "What now?"

Suddenly, the storm clouds swept over the moon, covering the forest in darkness.

"Fuck..." she swore again.

Fighting back tears, she knew she had two choices: she could stay where she was and wait for the moon to return, or she could light her wand and get the hell out of this God-forsaken forest.

As she stood in rain, dripping wet, debating her choices, a noise came from behind her. A soft rustle of... wings? Leaves? Something else?

Shaking and frightened, she pressed herself as tight as she could against the tree. Her cloak and nightclothes were soaked through, even with the partial cover of the forest. Her long hair stuck to her face in wet tendrils, the bark pulling at it as she turned her head first to the left, then the right, all the while fighting back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

Her breath shaking, she struggled to listen... to hear or see anything in the dark.

Maybe it was her imagination... maybe she was once again overcomplicating the situation... maybe she–

From out of nowhere, a cold hand grabbed her by the throat, forcing her head and neck back at a painful angle and grinding the bark of the ancient tree into the back of her skull.

She barely had a chance to scream as cold, wet fingers pressed mercilessly into the sides her neck, cutting off the flow of blood to her brain.

She felt a hard point being pressed to her temple. She felt the pressure increase as her attacker dug the cold wood of the wand deeper into her skin.

Her eyes widened in panic as she frantically clawed at the long fingers holding her in their vice grip. Tension tightened every muscle in her small body as tears streamed silently down her cheeks, for she had no air with which to sob.

Terrified, she waited for the inevitable, for what she knew was about to happen, for what her own stupid Gryffindor bravado had brought upon her... for... for... release?

Release.

And sweet, blessed oxygen.

She fell to her knees on the wet ground, gasping for air, clutching at her throat with both hands. Her attacker stood silently behind her, watching her struggle for breath as the rain beat down on them both.

As her senses returned, her vision swam with red, rage swiftly coming to the surface. Still holding one hand to her throat, she made as if she was going to be sick, clutching at her stomach with her other hand.

NO!! her inner voice cried, realizing what she was doing even before she did. Slowly, but before she could be set upon again, she adjusted her wand in her shaking hand, making sure she had a firm grip.

Without warning, she flew to her feet and spun towards her attacker, water droplets flying from her body. Her hair whipped around her as she brandished the wand like a rapier and screamed the only spell she could think of: "Sectum–!"

She was cut off mid-curse, the breath knocked from her lungs as she was violently thrown onto her back in the mud. It felt like nothing less than a violent kick to the stomach.

Her wand slipped from her hand and was lost in the darkness.

Once again, she found herself struggling for air, her lungs betraying her.

She writhed in the muck on the forest floor. If there was a part of her that wasn't wet, cold, and caked in mud, she could not feel it anyway.

Before she could even attempt to roll over or crawl away, her attacker was upon her again. This time both her wrists were taken in another iron grip and forced over her head. Her mind screamed in protest as her cloak fell open and her small top rode high up over her ribs.

Finally able to draw breath, she struggled against him – 'him' being an assumption based purely on strength – and screamed as he straddled her hips. His leather boots hooked over her shins as she struggled, holding her firmly in place.

"No! Get off me!! I'll kill you... bastard... let me go!!" She struggled frantically, bucking her hips, kicking, jerking her arms, and even trying to sink her teeth into the arm that was only inches from her face. Her efforts were futile.

She was held fast.

She continued to fight him until a sudden realization swept over her.

What if... what if he means to... to rape me?

Even as the thought leapt unbidden to her mind, to her horror she realized that she could feel... Oh, god... him... pressing into her thigh.

She resisted the urge to be sick as a cold wave of dread nearly took her into unconsciousness.

He was... aroused... by her struggling.

She froze.

Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her blood pounded in her ears as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her chest heaved – she could feel rivulets of water running over her breasts and down her neck.

She tried to make out a face in the darkness, if only to spit at it.

She was all at once glad for the enveloping darkness, glad that whoever was on top of her couldn't see her in her thin top and pants, soaked to the skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.

As if in response to her new level of terror, the rain started coming down harder, the wind whipping it in huge sheets around the two bodies lying in silence on the forest floor.

His hand pressed her wrists harder into the mud as she felt him lean in closer.

"Please..." she whispered frantically, not daring to move. "Please don't..."

A deep, throaty chuckle, dripping with mirth, came from the darkness.

He was now so close that she could smell the heavy scent of whiskey on his breath, the wet wool that was his cloak.

She felt the faint brush of wet hair against her cheek followed by...

Oh, God!!

... lips... pressed hot and wet against the pulse of her neck.

Fire and lightning shot through her body, pooling in low, sensual places.

Her breath quickened.

She screamed to herself: This is NOT right... no... I don't...

Her rational mind was being taken over by her irrational body.

Again, his lips were on her wet skin, brushing softly underneath her ear. Terrified, but unable to stop herself, she arched her neck into his mouth.

Teeth grazed her skin.

She trembled, but not from the wet or the cold.

Then, a voice, all dark chocolate and velvet:

"Don't what... Miss Granger?"

~TBC

A/N: For anyone that cares, I'm so sorry about the long wait! I have nine chapters so far, and they have all been looked over by my most wonderful Beta! I hope to post them once a week, so keep checking back! Thanks so much for R&R!!!