Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I've borrowed some characters, but I'm making no money for it. Blast!

SW says: What we have here is somewhat noncon, but I'd like to think it is more dubious consent. Thanks go to CocoaChristy for beta reading.

Hermione moaned slightly as Viktor lowered his mouth and began suckling her neck, one hand softly caressing her breast. She could see the dark hair on his head shaking as his head moved and his mouth feasted on her flesh. She brought a hand up to tangle in his long, soft locks, her other hand moved to rest on his back as she arched her body into his touch and kiss.

Snape! This was no dream... and it was not Viktor. It was Snape who was touching her body...without permission...in an attempt to seduce her or arouse himself.

Foggily, she woke and tried to move away from him, hands that were holding him close suddenly trying to push him away. "No!" she cried.

He moved over her more firmly to pin her down, lifting his head. "Do shut up, Miss Granger." There was a slur to his voice, and his breath smelled of whisky. "I don't want to remember who it is that I'm devouring."

"Stop it!" she said again, struggling against him, hating the feel of his thin, naked body moving against hers.

"I could gag and bind you, you know..." His mouth lowered and trailed its way to the peak of one of her breasts, his previously semi-flaccid penis hardening with each stroke of his tongue.

The warning broke through her mind, and she remembered how it had felt to be so helpless with Ch-Wormtail in that cell. She might not want Snape to have her, but she didn't want to be helpless again.

"Please don't hurt me," she whispered, dropping her hands from him and ceasing her struggles.

He sighed and rolled away from her, saying nothing, but she could hear his heavy breathing.

From the darkness of the room, she could tell that it was still nighttime out, and she wondered if the others were looking for her. What had Mr. Weasley thought when he'd gone to the Leaky Cauldron and found her missing? What had become of Charlie? There were so many things she wanted to know. She could ease their worries...and hers...if she complied with what Voldemort wanted done with her. Maybe if she helped Snape along and got it done sooner, she could leave.

Yes, that was it. She could always Obliviate herself later. There had been many sacrifices on their side so far. Why should she remain unmarred or be any different? By giving Snape her virginity...she would never consider what Wormtail had done as the loss of her virginity...she would be making a sacrifice, yes, but she would live... live to fight another day.

"Sir, I am ready now," she said bitterly. "And I'll not speak again," she added, remembering that he didn't want her to talk, as he was obviously trying to pretend that she was someone else and not his ex-student.

She could do that as well. Why couldn't she close her eyes and imagine Ron touching her? They'd snogged a bit before they'd parted, so she knew well what his lips felt like and how he tasted. She'd even allowed him to grope her when he'd tried. She hadn't minded really and had enjoyed the tingling sensations that had shot through her when his fingers had touched her flesh intimately. This isn't Snape. It's Ron. Hell, Viktor. Anyone else. No, it's Ron.

Just when she thought that Snape had fallen asleep and forgotten all about his orders to have sex with her, he rolled back towards her and placed a tentative hand upon her soft stomach. When she didn't fight him, it slowly slid down to softly caress the trimmed hair at the juncture of her thighs. When she said nothing, though she did inhale a deep breath and hold it, his fingers curled inwardly, getting familiar with her skin, dipping slightly into her entrance, seeking moisture.

And then it happened. One long finger slid into her, timidly probing her depths, exploring her heat. She released the breath she'd been holding and quickly sucked in another and held it. Eyes shut tightly, she tried not to move, not wanting him to know that she felt anything at all...repulsion, anxiety, or anticipation.

"Ah," escaped her lips in a quick gush as another finger joined the first. This elicited some sort of grunt from him. She pressed her lips together tightly, afraid that she'd ruined it and that he'd have to stop until he could touch her freely again without being repulsed. She dumbly wondered if she should be offended by exactly how much she disgusted him. She knew she was no beauty queen, but she certainly wasn't some hag! Someone of his age and looks should be happy that she would even allow... I'm not really allowing him though. I am forced to do whatever he wants, or we might both die. 'Well, he would deserve it,' another voice whispered.

To her surprise, she felt him rubbing his erection against her thigh, pressure increasing every few caresses. It wasn't so bad, really. His fingers were much more gentle than Wormtail's had been, and she found their rhythm soothing...almost. She prayed that he would be satisfied with just rubbing himself against her, but she knew that would not be all that would happen between them.

Even as she thought that, his hands moved to part her thighs as he positioned himself between her legs. She instinctively froze and tried to clamp her legs together.

"Easy," he said quietly, slur still evident in his voice. "Just relax."

Biting her lip and keeping her eyes closed together tightly, she relaxed her legs, digging her heels into the bed and clutching at the sheet beneath her with her hands in order to prepare herself for his physical invasion.

With surprising finesse, he slid into her partially. It didn't hurt, but her body didn't approve of this new filling sensation. There was a slight burning feeling as her insides stretched. Her hands lifted to claw at his shoulders; she was uncertain if she meant to push him away or to simply hold him still.

"Shhh. It's all right," he murmured, pausing long enough to give her a small sense of control, which she appreciated.

She released her tight grip on him but didn't remove her hands. Slowly and steadily, he finished pushing all the way in where he stopped and breathed heavily. She wanted to curse him and to reassure him at the same time. She was uncertain if she should be grateful or not, but she simply wanted the ordeal over and done with. Maybe it would be the only time she'd have to do it.

As if reading her mind, he pulled back slowly and pushed in again. The friction was still a bit more than she could bear, and she clawed at his shoulders again.

"Won't be long," he said, voice oddly tense.

His movements quickened, pulling and pushing, friction never easing. The odd awareness that she was having sex...and with Snape...filled her brain. It wasn't as she'd imagined in all of her fantasies. It wasn't Ron or Viktor. It wasn't an act born of love or emotion. Nothing like it at all. She couldn't believe it was happening. She'd always been a good girl and obeyed the rules...well, most of them...so why was this happening to her?

You're an ungrateful girl, Hermione. It could have been one of the other eager men that were asking for you, a voice chided, sounding much like Professor McGonagall. Do you think they would have been as gentle and given you as much say in what happened? One of them would have likely easily buggered you before doing anything else. She knew that the voice was right. Snape was at least trying to be gentle with her, and his inability to become aroused by her body spoke for his true feelings. He was as much a victim of forced sex as she.

A nearly silent sound, much like, "Ungh," reached her ears, and a moment later, Snape's head rested on her shoulder where he pressed one small chaste kiss against her skin. The room was filled with silence. It didn't take her long to figure out that he'd fallen asleep, still on top of her and still inside of her. She maneuvered slightly, and his flaccid prick slipped out of her, leaving her free of her obligation. It was over. Had he had an orgasm? She couldn't really tell, as she still felt the same...wet, used, and stretched.

Maybe he's passed out while doing it, she pondered. That had to be it. There was no vocal noises or shouting in ecstasy that she'd read and heard about. She supposed that one little noise could have signified his release, but she was uncertain. Moving sideways, she slipped away from his body and stood on side of the bed. Once orienting herself, she felt her way over to the bathroom where she could wash, cry, and be sick in private.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Get up, girl, and get out of here," Snape's gruff voice said, rousing her from sleep.

The dim glow of his wandlight hurt her swollen eyes when she opened them. "I..." It all came back to her: sex, tears, retching, more tears, determination to survive.

"I don't care. Get back in bed," he commanded, moving towards the toilet.

Noticing that his pale arse was bare, she quickly scampered from the room, able to see her way to the bed by the light of the fire that he'd lit. She had no idea what time it was or how much time had passed. Her body ached, inside and out. What would he want to do now? Would the one time be enough? Would he be angry if she put on the long nightshirt?

She decided to not give him any reason to get angry. After many minutes passed, she closed her eyes. The water was running in the loo, so she figured he was washing himself, much like she had. When she thought of rape, she never really considered what males who were violated might feel like. She'd always pictured rape as something a woman endured at the hands of some sick bastard. However, this was something different, and while she'd known deep down that men, too, were forced into sexual situations...usually by other men...she'd never heard of it happening to anyone that she knew personally.

Did he feel dirty, debased, or have the urge to vomit... feel that need to purge himself of her touch? She shivered in disgust, remembering the stabbing feel of him stretching her, violating her. At that moment, Hermione wished to have some of that whisky that she'd smelled on his breath. That was likely why he'd done it...to deaden his senses, to give him the will to carry through with Voldemort's orders.

Voldemort. That bloody bastard! How did he expect to keep his followers if he forced them to do such things? If he tortured them? If he teased them with prizes only to take them away? The man had no heart, and from what Harry had told her already, he never did have one...even as a small child.

Hermione's thoughts blurred, and sleep came to her once again. When she woke sometime later, she saw Snape sitting near the fire, leaning forward, rocking back and forth, head resting in his hands...the stance of a broken man, filled with guilt. Part of her wanted to tell him that it was all right and that he'd had no choice, but the embittered part of her that hated him wanted him to suffer and relished in his guilt. He should have never betrayed Dumbledore. He should have never devised that plan to capture her. Was she truly so easily manipulated? How could she not have known that "Charlie" was an imposter? Wormtail spent years with the family, though, so he knew their mannerisms perfectly and nearly everything about them. But how did they get recent information about the Weasleys? Had they tortured Charlie somehow?

She didn't want to think of that and continued spying on the man before her. He wasn't crying, but he seemed lost in despair. Before she could open her mouth to say anything, a loud hum coming from near the entrance began reverberating around the room. Sitting up quickly and clutching the duvet to her body, she asked, "What is that?"

Snape sprung up quickly, clad in only underpants. "Keep quiet," he said, casting a warning glance at her as he made his way to the side of the bed. Once there, he sat at her side. "Calm down," he warned, voice low and steady. "We are about to have company."

Her heart began beating wildly. Who was coming to see them? Voldemort? Was it some other Death Eater expecting to join in? Tears came to her worried, frightened eyes. Please... no. Please... no.

His hand slid beneath the duvet and rested on her thigh, causing her to startle and stare down at the duvet as if she could see through its fabric. Just as she was about to ask what he was doing, she heard a high-pitched cackle from behind him.

Voldemort.

"So, Severusss, I see you've taken to your task much easier than you would have liked," Voldemort said, moving closer to them.

Hermione's eyes met his briefly before she looked down in shame. Her hands clutched to keep the duvet up over her breasts.

"Fear not, girl. You won't temp me with your filthy Mudblood body," he said hatefully.

"It seems that her body is a most satisfying vessel, my Lord," Snape said, rubbing his hand along her thigh, back and forth, rapidly. "I should not have doubted your wisdom in delegating this duty to me."

A long, pale hand grasped Hermione's chin and forced her to look up and into Voldemort's red, narrowed eyes. She hated the tremble that passed through her body and continued while he had his hand upon her face, eyes clashing with hers. She tried to force herself to look away, but it seemed that she couldn't. Severus' hand, which was still rubbing her thigh, seemed to have slowed down, squeezing her flesh reassuringly now and again. Images of what had happened so far flashed through her mind.

"Very good, Severusss," Voldemort finally hissed. "However, she's not broken yet. Do what you will to break her. I don't like this... determination I see sparkling in her eyes. If you go too far, causing her to die in the process, it certainly won't be a big loss, will it?"

"No, Master, it will not be." Snape turned to gaze at her, a slight sneer on his face.

"Excellent. You may carry on."

Hermione watched as Voldemort's flat nostrils flared slightly as he released her face and turned away. Once he'd left the room, Snape pulled his hand from beneath the duvet and turned his gaze towards the fire.

"Professor... are we going to have to..."

"Yes," he interrupted, adding, "I cannot defy him, Miss Granger. I hope you can understand that."

Suddenly deciding on a different approach, she asked, "Why did you do it?"

"Do it? You heard him as well as I, or are you simply daft?" he asked in irritation, crossing over her to sit back against the headboard.

"No," she said, gathering her courage. "What I mean to say... Why did you betray us?"

The silence stretched between them for a long time. She felt him shifting about and realized that he was sliding beneath the duvet next to her and removing his underpants. Had she gone too far? She slid down and closed her eyes to prepare herself for the invasion to come.

He didn't touch her.

Finally, she turned to look at him and was surprised to find him lying on his side, propped up on an elbow and gazing at her expectantly. Heat flushed her cheeks. "Did... did you say something? I didn't hear it." When his eyes closed, as if staving off a wave of pain, she felt emboldened and maneuvered to her side to watch him. She'd never seen this side of Snape before. He'd always been so closed off, so cold before. It was just a little shocking to know that he was a real man with emotions behind his cool exterior.

When his eyes opened again, he said, "I did what I was ordered to do."

Her voice was soft as she replied. "I just don't understand how you could betray all of us. We believed in you." She shook her head sadly. "All those times that you saved us... You've always been a bit cruel, but I thought that beneath that..."

"Not everyone believed in me," he said bitterly. "And those few who did... Well, let's just say that I'm certain they didn't truly respect me. Not as I deserved."

"We did," she insisted.

"And Potter?"

"Harry always had his suspicions, what with the way you two never got on, but deep down, he trusted you, too. When Dumbledore and he left that cave..." She put a hand over her mouth as his eyes lit up.

"Cave?"

"I mean... I don't know. Please, I don't want to tell you anything about what they were doing." She saw his slight nod. "Anyway, he drank something that was poisoning him, and he told Harry that he needed you...only you...to save him. Harry was going to get you and believed that you would save him." She jutted her chin up slightly. "So, yes, even Harry believed in you whether or not he'd admit it out loud."

There was a slight sigh before he spoke. "Sometimes we have to do what we must in order to survive."

"I would rather die than betray those I love," Hermione said adamantly.

"Yet you are lying in bed with me," he pointed out.

"This was not my choice," she retorted quickly.

"Indeed it was," he said. "Were you ready to die for Potter when the Dark Lord swooped down to cast the Killing Curse on you? You know as well as I that if you'd caused enough trouble in the Lord's chambers, he would have killed you."

She swallowed thickly. "I didn't want to die, but I would have, rather than betray Harry or cause him any pain."

"Yet you exuded relief when you realized that your life would be granted, albeit with a large sacrifice on your part." His mocking smile faded. "Can you deny it?"

"If I can live to help Harry and the others, then, yes, it's worth the sacrifice," she said resentfully.

"Then you can understand that I will do what must be done to see things through."

"But he trusted you. He cared about you! And you killed him," she blurted, suddenly angry. "How could you do that to him?"

"How can you be so sure that I've not done exactly as he requested? That I am not a traitor as you've been led to believe?" he asked dangerously, eyes glittering. "Don't you dare assume that you've the right to question or lecture me, girl!"

"Wait...what do you mean by that?"

"Mind your own business," he said in annoyance, turning to lie on his back.

"You don't mean to say that the headmaster wanted you to... to do that... to kill him?"

He turned away from her, but she could hear his voice clearly. "To tell you the truth would be the death of both of us... and those whom you care for. Leave it alone."

Hermione allowed silence to linger as she thought of his words. Dumbledore would never give such an order. Would he? Harry's shimmering green eyes flashed through her mind. Dumbledore's grandfatherly face came to mind. Snape had always done as asked. Dumbledore had asked him to return to Voldemort...for them. Dumbledore had forced him to do things that he hadn't wanted to do...teaching Harry Occlumency or even being sociable, if one could call it that, with Sirius and Lupin.

Suddenly, she remembered the conversation that Hagrid had overheard between Dumbledore and Snape. It all fit. Perhaps there was a reason behind the headmaster's decision to let things end. Harry had said that supposedly Dumbledore and Snape knew about Malfoy's attempts all along. Had they made plans to let Snape be the one if it came down to it? Some last ditch effort to save Malfoy from himself?

A quiet voice broke into her thoughts.

"I see his face all the time... so exhausted, so beseeching."

She said nothing, but she did place a hand upon his arm, willing him to talk more.

"I can hear him still... voice so weak."

She scooted closer and rubbed his arm reassuringly like he'd rubbed her leg when Voldemort was near.

"His final words were, 'Severus... please....'"

Hermione swallowed away her words. How horrible. Harry had told her as much, but hearing it from Snape was so much worse. Whether he was forced by Dumbledore or Voldemort to end the headmaster's life, he was living with much guilt. His normally hardened spine was slumping. His cold, uncaring voice was laden with emotion. It must have been somewhat of a relief to voice as much as he had to her. Strangely enough, she was glad to have been the one to witness his breakdown and confession.

There had never been a day in her life when her heart hadn't gone out to anyone or anything that seemed so defeated... so downtrodden. She felt extremely sorry for Severus Snape and wished that he'd chosen a different path in his life...no matter what the Order had gained from having him on their side.

"No matter who wins this war," he continued, "there will never be any freedom for me."

And it was the truth. How could she comfort someone with no future? How could she help someone who wouldn't accept it? There had to be some way to let the others know that there was more to the story than they knew. She needed to get Harry to speak to Dumbledore's portrait alone. Maybe she could help him. Maybe she could get Harry to help him. In that moment, her plan came to her. She knew what she must do and say when she was returned.

Without thinking, she placed a small kiss on his arm and immediately felt him stiffen.

"I don't want your pity," he mumbled.

"I... I don't know why I did that," she said, adding, "and unfortunately, I do sympathize with your situation." She gathered her courage. "Th-the sooner that I can get home, the sooner that I can start helping you. There has to be something that I can do."

He turned over to face her. "Enough." He smirked hatefully. "I refuse to become one of your projects."

Like it or not, Professor, you've become one. I will help you. She paled for a moment, realizing that she was wanting to help the very man who had forced her to... no, who had been forced to force her to have sex. We're both being forced. That's the key here. He would never have touched me had his life not been on the line. I will not let all of Dumbledore's work suffer because of my feelings.

The only way she'd be able to return to her friends and family was if Voldemort thought that Snape had used her enough and had broken her. She would have to have sex with him again, possibly allow him to hex her to play the part, and she'd definitely have to seem damaged when Voldemort called upon them again. Closing her eyes as her defilement at Wormtail's hands came to mind, she tried to will herself to push down the hate, bitterness, regret, and sense of loss that she was feeling. She'd survived the experience with Snape, and although it had left her feeling even more tainted, it had also given her a sense of hope. It could have been worse. All I have to do is allow it to happen for my freedom.

Opening her eyes, she saw his sullen expression, and something in her went out to him. He truly understood what she was feeling because he felt it, too. Her only comfort at the moment was that she could try to give comfort, and in doing so, she could find some twisted sense of comfort, of kinship.

"I'm ready again," she said boldly, placing a hand upon his chest, swallowing her indecision.

"Excuse me?" he asked incredulously.

"Well," she said, trying to sound business-like, "if we carry on again, You-Know-Who might let me leave soon." She saw the disbelief on his face. "I don't want to do this. Not really. And I know that you feel the same way, but we have to." She nodded back towards the door. "You heard what he said. I-I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to, and I don't want him thinking up other ways to... you know..."

"Very well," he said, eyes boring into hers as he turned over completely to face her, one of his hands moving to rest on her bare arse. "I'm afraid that I am not quite ready yet."

"Oh, er..." She noticed that there was much more light this time. Neither of them could allow the darkness and mind to block away exactly who their partner was. "What should I do?"

She was shocked to hear his soft response.

"Touch me."

Of course. She might have known. She'd wondered if maybe seeing her breasts might help, but then she remembered that he didn't exactly find her attractive. Peeking at him, she saw that he'd closed his eyes. She did the same, and the hand that she'd placed on his chest slid down his stomach slowly, following the trail of hair down his abdomen to where it thickened and surrounded his flaccid penis.

Nibbling on her inside of her mouth to calm her nerves, she began fondling him clumsily, nails scratching at his pubic hair, palm of her hand rubbing against his skin. After a few moments, she felt it twitch beneath her, and it seemed to grow. She cupped him as best as she could and began to stroke him until she felt him harden even more. She nearly told him that she was finished, but she remembered that he hadn't wanted her to speak, so as to not remind him that it was she he was bedding.

Instead, she decided to explore a little more, pausing her strokes to dip down and trace his testicles and perineum. As she continued to do this, she felt his body shift and press more closely against her hand, his penis definitely ready. At this moment, she realized that her center felt quite warm and somewhat damp. Her exploration had aroused her a little. Shame filled her. How could she be aroused by doing something that she didn't truly want to be doing?

A naughty voice whispered, The damage has been done already. Do it. What does it matter now?

Agreeing with the voice, she moved away from him, shifted to her back, and wordlessly placed the hand that was on her arse between her slightly spread legs. He didn't need instructions to know that she was allowing him to touch her. His practiced hand immediately cupped her, one finger sliding into her wet heat while his palm ground against her clitoris. She sucked in a sharp breath as the damp finger that had delved into her moved out and began circling her clit quickly.

Her hips lifted slightly, both to get closer and to get away. One of his legs moved over one of hers to keep her in place. So many things were going through her mind. She didn't know what to think. Stop. Continue. Wait. She scooted back nervously as she felt the all too familiar sensations building within, only to have him put more weight over her to keep her steady. Would it be all right to have an orgasm? She done it many times to herself, but she'd never allowed anyone to do this to her, much less... him. It felt wrong. Yet, she wanted to feel it. It would ease the unpleasantness... so she hoped.

"Oh," she murmured uncertainly, destroying her ability to think.

"Relax," he whispered quietly. "Let it come."

At the sound of his voice, the feeling ebbed, and reality set it. "I can't," she murmured. "It went away, the feeling."

In an instant, he was quickly over her, his thin body covering hers and nestling between her thighs. She felt his hand guiding his erection to her labia, rubbing it between them before pushing in slightly. Without the shock of the situation to numb her mind, she more acutely felt his entrance and her body's attempt to expel him.

"Let me in," he murmured.

"I'm not stopping you," she replied, uncertain what more he wanted.

He paused for a moment and tried again, only pushing in a little further. It was then that his lips found hers. As she opened her mouth to allow his tongue's entrance, she could think of nothing but the feel of his nose digging into her cheek and the wetness of his kiss.

"Ow!" she yelped, ending their kiss abruptly. He'd thrust all the way into her while she'd been distracted.

"Shhh," he soothed, moving almost all the way out and back in again, giving her a filling sensation.

"Ow," she murmured again as he jabbed at her sharply once more.

His lips found hers again, and this time, she was able to concentrate on the rhythm of his tongue moving with hers, coinciding with the steady rocking against her body. They kissed for many minutes until he threw his head back, eyes closed, breathing heavy, thrusting more rapidly. She buried her face against his shoulder and held onto him, not even trying to move with him.

Snape's hand moved between them, teasing her clitoris again and causing her to move against him a little more, wanting that added friction so that she could also feel something from their coupling. To her added frustration, he removed his hand and changed his strokes, trying to grind his pelvic area against hers and giving her minimal sensation. She found that if she met his thrusts and ground herself back against him, she could find pleasure.

"Oh, dear God," she murmured as she realized the feeling was coming to her again. This time it wouldn't be stopped. Even as she thought it, sensations began washing over her, forcing her to move against him rapidly and roughly. He never stopped moving, continuing his deep, quick pace. As her convulsions stopped, his started. Her eyes opened widely as she watched his face contort as if in pain while his strokes slowed.

When his thrusts finally stopped completely, he looked down at her lazily and seemed a bit smug that they'd been able to have a productive...if that is what it could be called...shag. He rolled off of her and settled onto his back.

She turned away from him to look at the wall. A thought came to her. "I've not been taking any contraceptive potions, you know."

"Is that so?" he asked blandly. "I can see to it that you have something before you go."

"No, it doesn't matter."

"Pardon?" Surprise laced his voice, and he shifted faintly.

"I'm not ovulating. That was about eight days ago."

"I see," he replied, relaxing.

"Should I take something just in case?" she asked, knowing that it was unnecessary.

"If you'd like," he offered, voice quiet. "Hermione... if I could change how things have worked out, I would do so. I hope you can understand that."

She turned over to face him, nodding as she said, "I do understand. We all have choices to make." She made certain that he was looking into her eyes before she spoke again. "This situation might not have been what we chose, but I feel we've made the most of something horrible. While unpleasant, you allowed me to have choices and a say in what happened, though the end results would be the same. I will always appreciate that." She smiled shakily. "This was my choice... what we just did." For some reason, it was important that she voiced that aloud. She could have laid back and waited for him to make the first move, but she'd taken matters into her own hands. That was something that no other would have allowed her. Feeling that she had the power to make her own choices lessened the disgust she felt for her situation.

He nodded. "So it was."

"And yours?"

"I would say so," he said, finally removing his gaze from hers. "I think that by this evening I can bring you back."

"Really?" she asked, sitting up in excitement, duvet forgotten.

"Yes, perhaps we could work out something to where a statement is put in the Prophet saying you were found beaten and exhausted? You've only a few bruises that I've seen."

"For Voldemort," she said, agreeing internally. "He'll think that you've resorted to hitting or cursing me that way, right?"

"Yes."

"I will," she promised. "And there is something else. A plan I have." She knew that once she explained her decision to him, he would also feel better about what they'd been forced to do.

"What's that?"

"I have decided that I won't tell Harry about this," she said pointing to him and then herself. "Voldemort would only get what he wanted if I did so because Harry would definitely never forgive you and the need to find you would be moved to the top of his list."

"What will you say if not the truth?" he asked curiously.

"The truth can still be told, and I'll just leave a few things out. I'll tell them that Wormtail disguised himself as Charlie and brought me here. He tried to defile me, but you saved me and helped me escape."

Surprise lit his eyes, and his mouth opened and closed. Shrugging, he said, "But... I... I don't know what to say."

"It's my choice. What happened here was forced upon us, and I don't want anyone else to know about it. That's my decision. Harry doesn't need this to add to his list of worries," she said adamantly, sounding braver than she felt. She bit her lip before adding, "And maybe we can find a way to save you from maximum punishment. If you've helped me escape uncertain death and abuse, that has to count for something, right? We'll talk to Dumbledore's painting. Anything."

"I told you that I would not become one of your projects," he said firmly.

"For me to do anything else but try to help you would be something uncharacteristic of me," she said, pulling the duvet up and burrowing below it. "I'll think of something. We'll get through this. This... this will be forgotten."

He was silent for a long moment, and she finally heard him say, "Very well." He got up and used his wand to cast a Cleansing Spell on their bodies before he quickly dressed. "I will get something for us to eat. We'll talk more when I return."

After he was gone, she made her way to the bath where she could physically wash away her shame and any lingering evidence of their coupling. "Some sacrifices must be made for the good of war," she reassured herself shakily. Even as she said these words, she caught sight of her face in the mirror. Tears began flowing down her cheeks once again. She knew life would never be the same for her. Some sacrifices were just too much.

Southern's Notes: I'll be adding the epilogue in a day or two. I just have a couple of paragraphs to rework and something small to add. I'll also post the challenge prompt so that you can see the one I had to answer and why I chose this subject matter.