Never Yours

A/N: This is longest chapter thus far. Warning that the first scene isn't exactly an - erm - nice one.

& - 5

There was a long moment, which consisted of Hermione gazing up at the Knockturn Alley sign hanging above her head, and turning back around to look up at the mysterious stranger.

It was no longer than three seconds, but it was one of those moments that felt to be longer than a day.

Finally, Hermione forced her initial surprise away and she tried to speak in the most casual voice she could muster.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized, laughing nervously. “I didn't mean to walk into you like that. Silly me, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I'll - I'll just go now.”

She turned around and went to go, but again she stepped right into something. She stumbled backward a bit and looked up to discover with a sinking feeling that it was yet another person - this one a witch - still much bigger and thicker than she was.

And as she pulled for her wand they began closing in on her, and Hermione couldn't stop the panic that was rising up inside of her.

Here she was in Knockturn Alley, a place that wasn't exactly friendly to people like her, in the dark night, unable to see more than five feet ahead of her; everything else fell into a scary darkness. She did the only thing she could think of, she backed away to her right, desperate to at least keep these two mysterious figures in her line of vision.

“Stay away!” she warned them, forcing her voice to sound commanding and strong. “Stay away or I will hex you!”

To her immense horror they laughed. Their croaky, high-pitched laugh rang through that dark street of Knockturn Alley, and it put goosebumps to her arms. She couldn't help but quiver as she wished she had stayed at the stupid party rather than run off like a blubbering idiot.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on Apparating away to her flat. No more than five seconds later nothing happened. Her eyes popped back open and she stared around, eyes wide and mouth open, as she wondered why she wasn't now in her flat. She couldn't concentrate; the panic inside of her only deepened and spread and infected her logic like a contagious disease.

“Looks like we've got ourselves a Mudblood,” said the thin hooded man after his laughter had died out, and he continued to step forward though she had already warned him. “She dares come to Knockturn Alley and besmirch this place with her filth!”

“Stupefy!” she screamed without warning, and the red light left her wand an instant after, heading straight for the hooded man.

The man fell to the floor as the witch aimed her own wand at Hermione, shooting some strange, bright orange spell Hermione hadn't ever seen before. She ducked down behind the nearby dumpster, its filthy stench surrounding her as she crouched down behind it.

“Come out come out wherever you are!” the woman sang in a pleasant voice.

Hermione swallowed hard and reminded herself to remain rational and levelheaded. It became a bit harder a moment later when she heard what was obviously other footsteps, all moving toward the dumpster she was hiding behind.

No, no, no! This cannot be happening to me! I only wanted to go home…not this - I didn't want this! She thought, in fact panicking automatically.

She winced as she felt a hand come down towards her from behind and grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her forcefully to her feet. For a few moments she struggled against the stranger that now had his arms wrapped so tightly around her front she was finding it a bit hard to breathe.

He - whoever he was - was trying to grab her wand away from her hand; her wand, her only device of self-defense she really had.

“Ah,” the man said with slight surprise, “Look who we have here. Granger. One of Potter's best friend's. Well, love, I'm sure he'll be upset once he finds out what happened to you. Or would he even care? You are a Mudblood, after all. No one cares about the likes of you, not even your precious Potter!”

Laughter. The laughter and taunts only continued, echoing forever in her ears.

“Incarcerous!” she shouted, trying her best to hit the broad-shouldered man that held her, but she missed and distantly saw her spell crash into another watching nearby. But she didn't care, she continued to struggle, stepping down for his feet and trying to elbow him hard in the ribs.

Everything just felt so difficult here in the dark by herself, panicky and irrational and already previously upset; she couldn't think straight, she wasn't herself…she was exhausted and emotionally drained. She couldn't handle this…

The man's fat hand enclosed around her wrist and he squeezed it hard, so hard she winced in pain and she was forced to drop her wand to get him to stop.

Someone picked her wand up and twirled it between their fingers, the laughter never-ending. It was the only true sound to be heard on the streets of Knockturn Alley.

The man finally let go of her and pushed her away from him, and she stammered forth, tripping on the curb of the sidewalk and falling face down onto the grimy street. She could feel herself bleeding on her knees from the fall and now her right wrist ached from the man's vice-like grip. She was vaguely aware that tears were running down her cheeks.

She was alone and scared and they just laughed at her like she was some clown there to entertain them. They knew they were hurting her and they didn't care…they found it funny.

This is the end, she thought with a surprising numbness filling her. This is it; they're going to torture me and then they're going to kill me here, now…only shops away from Harry and Ron and everyone else…

The thought made more tears leak out from her eyes, and she hated herself for being so pathetic and weak and for not putting up a better fight; she should have: she was Hermione Granger, best student in all of Hogwarts back in her day, clever and logical, always able to hold her own in deadly situations.

But - But she couldn't now. She didn't have the heart to keep fighting.

“Get up!” cackled the same witch that had fired that strange orange spell at her. She kicked her right in the side of her stomach and said, “Get up you pathetic Mudblood!”

“And what, may I ask, is the point of this?”

The laughter slowly died out as the cloaked strangers all looked up and stared into the distance at the lone figure that had just spoken.

The man - tall and with a lean figure - stepped forth into view, his gelled back silvery blonde hair shining with help from the light of the moon.

It was Draco Malfoy, hands in his pockets looking rather bored and uninterested.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” said someone standing in the watching crowd, and Hermione recognized it as the voice of Theodore Nott's.

“Passing through,” he replied in his usual pompous air, “Only, you lot should know it isn't exactly smart what you're doing.”

His silver eyes dropped to Hermione, still on the floor, and then rose back up to the crowd.

“And why not?” Nott asked.

“Because, Nott, there's a party tonight in Diagon, and sure enough a few Ministry officials are attending.”

That instant unease was obvious throughout the group. Most began stepping away, looking over their shoulders in fear. This wasn't worth going to Azkaban for.

Slowly they all disappeared back into the shadows of the streets of Knockturn, returning to their pubs and motel rooms.

The large man that had bruised Hermione's wrist and thrown her to the floor was the last to leave. He glared at Malfoy for a moment, the tension between the two so thick in the air, and then he slowly turned and he also disappeared out of sight.

Once they were all gone Malfoy stooped down and picked up her wand; someone had dropped it as they fled with the others.

Hermione sat up on her knees, her head pounding and her body aching and the numbness controlling any other emotion she should have been feeling.

“If I were you, Granger,” Malfoy said quietly, tossing her wand onto the floor in front of her, “I'd get the hell out of here and never come back.”

She stood, picking up her wand, and she hardly gave Malfoy a second glance as she listened to his advice; she got the hell out of there.

&

“Hermione! Hermione, open up! I know you're in there!”

Ron pounded on her door and waited for her to answer; she didn't.

She sat on her couch, hugging her pillow and glaring at the nonexistent fire in her fireplace.

“Hermione, don't make me Apparate inside! Just open the ruddy door!”

Sighing, she stood and walked to the door, pulling it open and turning around to head back over to the sofa. She plopped down, grabbing her pillow again and hugging it to her chest.

Ron shut the door after him, frowning.

“Why'd you leave last night?”

Pause.

“Ron, I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why not? You went to the rest room and took fifty years and then you came out crying!” Ron said, confused. “I can't believe you're not going to tell me…I am your boyfriend!”

“Ron! You are not my boyfriend!” she roared almost at the top of her lungs. She sighed and urged herself to calm down. “Ron, we're not back together. We were never back together. We broke up weeks ago, remember?”

“What? But - But…you said…”

“I said maybe, you're the one that took it as a yes,” Hermione ranted angrily. “And then you tried to parade me about that party last night.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Ron, just leave. I want to be alone, anyway.”

Ron didn't move an inch. He stood there and continued to stare at Hermione.

“Hermy, okay, I get it. We're not back together. We're not getting back together,” he said, disappointment all over his face. “But what happened? Why'd you leave? Did you have a row with Harry? Or Ginny maybe?”

She was beginning to grow even more frustrated.

She wanted him to leave! Didn't he understand that? What was so hard about understanding it? It was a plain, simple request. Although deep down she knew Ron was obviously concerned and trying to be a good best friend, she didn't ever want to think about last night.

“What's that?” Ron asked. He was referring to the thick blackish blue ring that circled her right wrist. “Where'd you get that?” he asked again, stepping closer.

Hermione stood up from the sofa, glaring right into Ron's face as she said with all the self-restraint she possessed, “Ron, leave me alone and stay out of my business. Just leave. I want to be alone.”

Void of any sympathy for his feelings, she turned away and marched straight to her bedroom, slamming the door shut after her so hard the walls shook.

And eventually Ron saw himself out.

&

She had been lying on her bed, trying to read a good book to give herself some peace of mind when there was a pop, and Harry appeared in the space between her bathroom and her bed.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped in surprise, a bit too jumpy.

She had been jumpy and paranoid ever since last night. She had come home to, for the first time, feel unsafe in her own home. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it; the fear of it happening again had instilled itself into her.

“Do Ron and you think you can Apparate into my flat any time you want?” she asked grumpily. “Because in case you don't know, this is my apartment!”

“Ron told me he came to visit you today,” Harry said, completely ignoring her comment.

“So?”

“He told me you seemed odd today.”

She felt the need to be defensive. Why wouldn't they simply stay out of her business?

And while she wanted to keep what happened the night before a secret another part of her desired to break down into tears and admit she had been attacked; she wanted to get it off of her chest. Maybe then she'd feel better.

“I'm fine. You can leave now.” She forced her eyes back to the text of her book.

“You don't seem fine,” Harry said simply. “Actually, you looked a bit edgy when I appeared.”

“I was reading, Harry,” she answered coldly. “It's dark out and I'm in a flat all by myself. Excuse me if sudden noises and random appearances of people into my home startle me.”

Harry nodded his head. “No, Hermione. I don't think that's quite it.”

“Well, it's the truth.”

“Ron also told me you had a bruise on your wrist.” He walked forward and sat down on the edge of her bed. “C'mon, Hermione. What's going on?”

And it was as if all of the fear and pain and anxiety swelled up all at once in her chest, so big and so grand that it exploded, and she couldn't keep it all in anymore.

She burst out into tears and soon after she felt Harry's arms come around her and pull her to him in a consoling embrace. She cried into his shoulder, trembling, as she released all these emotions the numbness had concealed.

Harry's head rested atop hers as he made those comforting shushing noises and traced circles on her back with the palm of his hand.

When she had let loose all of the pent up tears inside of her, she looked up from his shoulder, blush coming to her cheeks as she realized Harry was holding her as they sat alone on her bed.

“What happened, Hermione?” he asked, voice low and soft.

She nodded. “I don't want to talk about it.”

For a second he looked frustrated; he was barely taming his temper as it was. He knew someone had done this to her and when he found out whom it was…he didn't know what he'd do, frankly.

“You have to sooner or later,” he said instead.

“Harry,” she said, annoyance her facial expression, “Harry, I don't want to talk about it. It's none of your business. Maybe - Maybe you should go.”

“You're my business,” he told her quietly.

“Ginny's your business.”

She hadn't meant to bring up Ginny out of spite or bitterness; the words had left her tongue on their own.

Harry stared at her for a moment; it was obvious he wanted to tell her something but he decided he couldn't.

“Just tell me and I promise that if you want, I'll - I'll never mention it again and I'll hold it in complete confidence.”

She couldn't avoid it any longer. Harry was her best friend, she was in love with him, he cared about her and she trusted him with her life.

To her, it was amazing how they always came back together in the end, after all of their horrible fights and the things they said to each other; it all meant nothing when compared to how they cared for each other.

“Okay,” she said, exhaling a breath. “Okay, I'll tell you.”

Harry said nothing; he prepared himself to listen with open ears and he'd have to restrain himself from making this any more difficult for her by letting his anger and thirst for revenge take over.

“Last night,” she began, “Last night after I left Luna's birthday party I was crying and - and walking down the sidewalk. Only, I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going. Before I knew it I was in Knockturn Alley.”

Harry moved slightly as if to say something, though he didn't.

“And then I walked into someone - I couldn't see his face, it was so dark and he had his hood up. I apologized and I went to leave, but - but when I turned around there was another, a witch, and they started coming toward me. I warned them to keep away or I'd hex them, but they - they just kept coming toward me, so I tried to Apparate back here to my flat but I couldn't think straight or concentrate, and so I panicked more and I hexed the man. But then the woman - s-she shot a spell at me and I hid behind a dumpster,” she explained, forcing herself to remain composed as she relived the whole incident. Harry continued to listen silently. “A man grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to my feet, and then he grabbed me around the waist and he wouldn't let go. There were others, too, in the background - they were laughing and taunting me.”

The look on Harry's face was hard to read.

“The man holding me, he - he found out who I was,” she said, the last half of her sentence dropping to a whisper as she couldn't help but feel teary-eyed again. She didn't want to continue, it only got worse and she didn't want to tell him; she didn't want him to hear this.

He put his hand onto hers and grabbed a hold of it, wordlessly telling her everything was okay.

“Go on,” he coaxed.

“He knew you were my friend and he told me you'd be upset when you found out what happened to me,” she said, her eyes itchy, “B-But then he told me you wouldn't care. No one, he said, no one cares about Muggleborns.”

That part was the hardest to get out. She paused again and made herself continue.

“I kept struggling, but I dunno - he wasn't letting me go and then he started to squeeze my wrist until I dropped my wand, and when I did…he pushed me away; I fell to the floor and they all kept laughing, Harry. One of them kicked me in the side and told me to get up, and I think they were about to…”

She trailed off, and there was a second or two where they sat there and listened to the sounds of the city just outside.

“But Malfoy rescued me,” she finished. “He convinced them to leave me alone and then I left as fast as I could.”

There was another long moment - about a minute's length - that passed in silence, and Harry seemed torn on what his reaction should be. In actuality, he wanted to find out who were the bastards that had done this, and he wanted to make sure they understood never to even come near - never to even think about her ever again, at whatever lengths it took. But he knew he couldn't, not now. He had promised he'd understand, not be rash and enraged.

“I'm sorry, Hermione,” he said finally, and he felt useless. This was his fault; he had driven her from the restaurant, he had decided to chat with Ginny rather than go after her, he had stayed at the cheery party oblivious as Hermione was ruthlessly attacked.

“It isn't your fault,” she assured. “I should've paid mind to where I was going.”

“You should know they're not getting away with this. I'll make them pay, Hermione.”

“Harry,” she said with exhaustion. “I don't really want to talk about it anymore. I think I need some rest.”

He nodded, unable to stop himself from tucking a short strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear.

Hermione's cheeks flashed red and she was tempted to remind him he shouldn't be doing things like that; he wasn't her boyfriend, they weren't together. She decided not to. For once she wanted to savor this, savor his tender concern.

“Do you think you'll be fine by yourself? I can stay longer if it'll make you feel better.”

She wasn't so sure; even if she still felt uneasy and edgy even after her confession.

“I'm not a child,” she reminded him instead, “I can handle myself.”

He grinned at her. “Oh, c'mon Hermione! I know you can. It's just you've been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. And being alone isn't exactly comforting.”

She knew he was right. Sometimes, though, it was just so hard giving in.

“All right,” she agreed. “You're right. I will feel safer if you're here.”

They spent the next thirty or so minutes sitting against the headboard of Hermione's bed, simply talking quietly. And as they did, the anxiety inside of Hermione faded away, and she was grateful to Harry for helping her like this. She knew how hard it was for him to be calm and not let his temper take over.

Eventually, she drifted off into sleep, completely unaware that Harry watched her and smiled down at her as she peacefully rested. And soon after that he also closed his eyes and fell into his dreams.

Hours later as the morning rays poured into the room through Hermione's window, the two resting friends would jump awake at the sound of a fist raking the front door, and at the sound of Ginny Weasley's voice.

&

A/N: Thanks for reading. Now review, and the next part will come Thursday night/Friday night depending on reviews and how hectic my schedule is. Bye!