Pierced

Pierced:

Pierced; having a hole cut through; "pierced ears"; "a perforated eardrum"; "a punctured balloon"

Chapter One. Of Lust and Nightmares

“I tried to love you I thought I could
I tried to own you I thought I would
I want to peel the skin from your face
before the real you lays to waste
You told me I'm the only one
Sweet little angel you should have run
Lying, crying, dying to leave
Innocence creates my hell
Cheating myself still you know more
It would be so easy with a whore
Try to understand me little girl
My twisted passion to be your world
Lost inside my sick head
I live for you but I'm not alive
Take my hand before I kill
I still love you, but, I still burn”
Alice in Chains - [love, hate, love]

She felt cold, ever so cold. She saw his shadowy figure above her, a malicious grin on his face. He had spoilt her; made her dirty, unclean and it made her feel sick. She was barely breathing, her lungs longed for air; clean, sweet air, but with him here she could not breathe. Her gasps echoed in the silence of the dank room, her wrists and ankles bound painfully to the bed.

She couldn’t fight it: the darkness in his eyes, the sensation of her being made foul, unclean, a whore because of it. This night he owned her, and she was forced to submit. She wanted it over…it had to end…dear God let it end.

There was a flash of silver: an eight inch long blade. Long enough to pierce her heart and drive her soul from her body. She watched the blade, her sweat covered body shaking slightly out of fear, as he walked over to her, dark eyes hovering, smirking at her vulnerability. Her eyes flickered shut, flinching at the evil gleam in his eyes and his long pale fingers running along the blade. She felt the air as he came down, and as it pierced her, she screamed…

Hermione’s eyes flashed open.

It was just a nightmare; the same one that had haunted her for over a month, keeping her on edge, ready to snap at anyone who dared to try and touch her. She shivered; she was covered in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, feeling like she had just been strangled. She rose out of her damp sheets and pulled the nightgown off and flung it against the opposite wall. Her bare, slender form was silhouetted by the moonlight streaming through her thin curtains.

She stretched and went to her closet and pulling out another white nighty. The cotton material clung to her as she sat in front of her window and Crookshanks walked over and jumped onto her lap, purring to her, as if he knew what was wrong. Automatically, she started petting the ginger fur.

She felt so alone tonight, with nothing but Crookshanks and her thoughts to keep her company. That horrid dream that frightened her, being dirtied and sacrificed and having no power at all, seemed to tease her, just daring her to be the smart person she was meant to be and work it out.

And then there was Ron.

She didn’t love Ron, though she knew he was infatuated with her: the plain, book savvy muggle-born that she was. She had admitted to Ron that she loved him, but only as a friend. She knew he hated it but he accepted grudgingly.

And Harry, oh God, if only she knew where her feelings stood with him. His dark messy hair and piercing, stunning emerald eyes never stopped amazing her. It was like a never ending rollercoaster; once you got on there was no going back. Her own remembered words echoed in her mind.

"You said to us once before, that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

They had had time, a lot of time. There was six years where they could have turned back, but they were in too deep now to turn their backs on Harry. Hermione, as much as she hated to admit it, knew the thought of being a victim or murderer haunted Harry’s every moment, every step he took, and it pained her to watch him. If he realized that he had become even darker and distant she did not know, but she doubted he was completely aware of how he affected others.

There where days she wondered if it would be any use to stay; she knew Harry was capable of looking after himself.

No, she thought, her mind raging with itself for ever doubting staying with Harry.

He needs us…or does he? He, Harry James Potter, is the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord. He is a powerful wizard, but he could turn to darkness too…nothing is stopping him...

Hermione jumped, started by the sudden appearance of Hedwig, impatiently pecking at the window with a scroll attached to her leg. Hurriedly, and making as little noise as possible, she opened her window, all thoughts of her life quickly scattered into the shadows as the snowy owl flew in and landed on her bed, holding her right leg out for Hermione to remove the letter. Hermione obliged and looked at the scroll: the seal was emerald green but didn’t bear any resemblance to Hogwarts’ seal

It was Harry’s.

Stupid girl, Hermione scolded herself, who else would it be from? Harry owns Hedwig after all. Her hands trembled… she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was the letter bore, what was so important that Harry had sent a letter this late…or was it even worth worrying about it?

Without thinking about it, Hermione slipped her finger under the seal, breaking it in two and she unrolled the parchment carefully, examining its contents, her thick, brown hair falling about her face as she lent forward a little to read it.

Dear Hermione, At 12 midnight look out your front door, you may be surprised at what you see.

Love Harry

It was simple, but mysterious at the same time. What had Harry possibly planned to happen at midnight? It occurred to Hermione that she best check the time; she needed to be downstairs when whatever Harry had planned was going to happen. Hedwig suddenly flew off out into the moonlit street, Hermione’s already messy hair getting tussled along the way.

Her digital clock told her it was 11:58 and so she waited two long minutes that seemed to amount to hours, until Harry’s plans where set into action. Hermione grabbed her wand (carefully moving the purring Crookshanks to the bed) and quietly headed down the stairs, stopping at her parents’ room and smiling at them, sleeping peacefully in their bed together. Once she reached the lounge room she eyed the clock and sat in the chair opposite the lounge. It seemed like barely any time had gone by; there was still one…

BANG!

Hermione literally jumped out of her seat that time. The sound of a car backfiring it would sound like to muggles, but Hermione knew better. It was the noise of a witch or wizard apparating. She rose out of her seat and gingerly approached the door, holding her wand out in front of her; there was no guarantee it was Harry and there where plenty of wizards in England, not all of them welcome.

Her hand rested on the cold metal doorknob as her chocolate eyes, flicked with gold, glanced quickly to the clock then back to the door. It was time. Hermione turned the doorknob and heard it click open, her wand arm outstretched in front of her, daring any foe that may be there to try something on her. There was a cloud of mist floating around her and she touched it carefully, her eyes looking at the mist running through her fingers for a moment, and then she felt a hand push her wand down. Her deep eyes looked up at the tall figure in front of her.

Tall, dark, pale…she shuddered…tall dark and pale? Her nightmare?

It was then she saw something she recognized: those piercing emerald green eyes were gleaming out from the shadows. Harry, she thought blushing; she felt oddly at a loss for words. Her heart skipped a beat…there was something about him…something different.

The shadows left as Harry turned and closed her door lightly. Once closed, Harry smiled at Hermione, though he looked weary, as if in the week they had been apart something had happened… but what could have happened? Perhaps he is loosing sleep too; he seemed prone to nightmares after all.

“Harry, come sit down,” she said softly, as if afraid to break the gentle stillness in the air.

Harry nodded half-heartedly and followed Hermione, carefully walking over and sitting on the lounge. Hermione trailed behind him and sat once again in the chair, and looked across the tea table at Harry.

She smiled gently but Harry could not help but notice that she was blushing. He smiled, somehow knowing why she was blushing. They where friends first and foremost, but there was something else, something dangerous and yet undeniable about the two.

Hermione sat, her legs folded to her right and she leant on the left arm of the spacious chair, and Harry noticed her nightgown was dangerously short. Harry, you can’t think like that, he told himself sternly. She’s your best friend! He knew his head was probably right, but his heart kept insisting over wisdom. Suddenly he spoke, as if trying not to give his eyes time to explore her body. For a moment he saw the 11-year-old Hermione he had met on that first fateful ride on the Hogwarts Express, but Hermione was now a 17-year-old woman and she definitely looked like it.

“Hermione, you look tired… and slightly flustered” He added the last word carefully: relationships were breaking like twigs these days. With the fear of Voldemort, everything seemed out of place and wearisome, even relationships. (Love this graph: the relationships breaking like twigs is perfect)

Hermione blushed when she realized Harry had noticed that she was flustered, but he too was slightly on the pink side, as if his heart was telling him something and his body and common sense where struggling against it.

“I haven’t been sleeping too…well,” she confessed slowly. She looked at the tea table; waves of loose brown curls covered her delicate face, hiding her behind a veil.

Harry wanted to go over to her when she did this because he was sure he saw her wipe a tear from her face. He wanted to be near her, to hold her, touch her soft, smooth skin. His mind scolded him again for this, sudden desire to have Hermione.

Harry stood and walked over to the chair and he brushed her thick curls gently behind her ear. He knelt so he was eye level with her and smiled, his hand drifting slowly to hers.

Hermione’s eyes skipped up to Harry’s, meeting them as he touched her hand so gently. They where so close. She lent forward a little with a smile on her face until she was mere centimetres from his lips.

“It’s ok Harry, it’s just nightmares,” Hermione whispered in a slow, luring voice. She was teasing him, she knew it, and she could see it in his eyes. Actually, in a way she was teasing herself at the same time, putting herself so close to him and to his lips; she could almost taste them.

Harry only just managed to hear Hermione’s luring words before he was entranced by the fire flickering in her eyes and the very closeness of her lips. Her tender, beautiful lips. They where close, too close…this was dangerous. They both seemed to know this, but neither moved.

Suddenly there was a loud

POP!

A very troubled looking Dobby suddenly appeared. Sighing inwardly, Harry turned to the elf, and eyed him for a moment before speaking.

“Dobby, what is it? You’ll wake Hermione’s parents if you’re not quieter”

Dobby bowed to them then looked up at Harry and Hermione. Hermione looked as if she was about to tell him that he had no need to bow, but Harry put his hand on her thigh gently and she seemed to abandon the thought of going on about S.P.E.W. but instead she smiled at Harry then looked to Dobby, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. Dobby was about to begin speaking.

“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger need to go somewhere safer. The muggle world isn’t safe for you. Dobby always helps Harry Potter,” said Dobby looking at them, completely unaware of what he had interrupted. Dobby sounded jumpy and was looking if he was about to punish himself for upsetting Harry.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, thoughts of what may have happened were filling their heads, but Hermione seemed to come to her senses quicker then Harry, whom seemed unable to speak.

Hermione got up, quickly pulling the short night dress down further, but not quick enough to avoid giving Harry a quick glimpse up her dress, as he was still on his knees in front of her chair. Much to Harry’s amusement he found that the night gown was indeed all she was wearing.

Hermione bent over near Dobby and smiled gently at him then, she spoke.

“What exactly do you mean Dobby? This is my home. Nothing will happen,” she insisted gently.

“Dobby means you are in danger miss, both of you, if you stay. There are rumors of Death Eaters attacking around here,” he said in a very knowing but terrified voice; a voice Harry had heard it before the night Dobby was at the Dursley’s, insisting that he not return to Hogwarts.

Hermione looked at Harry then at Dobby, and then Harry finally gained his voice.

“It’s ok Dobby, I know. I had almost run into them on my way here: I was in a nearby town for a few days and they where looking for me. I was going to tell Hermione later, I just wanted to see....” he paused for a second, then continued “...how she was,” he concluded carefully.

At this Dobby nodded. “Yes, yes but they are close, too close Harry Potter. You have to go, both of you. I was asked to look out for you... by Professor Remus Lupin.” Dobby, noticing Harry’s look of annoyance started banging his head loudly on the coffee table.

“Dobby, I told you to stop doing that!” Harry said getting up and restraining the elf.

“He was worried Harry Potter, sir. The ministry was going to make your whole group of aurors follow but Lupin persuaded them to let me instead. I always wishing to help Harry Potter!” he said, jumping slightly from nerves and fright. “He was worried Harry Potter, he was,” Dobby repeated, panting slightly as if he had rushed to get here.

Harry nodded and let Dobby go and his eyes turned to Hermione. She was standing by the window, the short white gown clinging closely to her skin and she was bathed in whitish-blue moonlight. To be honest, she had never looked more beautiful, no one had, he thought.

The animal inside him growled and shook its cage, trying to break free. To touch her would be his undoing.

“Mione…” he said in an almost whisper. The smile on her face when he said it told him she didn’t mind being called that.

“Mione, Dobby wouldn’t lie. We should do something,” he said, slowly walking over to her and stopping a few feet away.

Why does he stop? I know he wants me, I can see it, but he’s holding back, Hermione mused to herself.

“Mione?” He asked softly. She was smiling at him as if her mind was thinking about something else, something pleasurable.

She suddenly snapped back to reality, and her smile turned to a thoughtful expression.

“We should go somewhere…but my parents...”

Harry cut her off and looked to Dobby.

“Dobby, will you do something for me?” Harry asked but he didn’t think Dobby would say no; Dobby liked Harry, and if he could help him he always did.

“Yes Harry Potter, Dobby will do something for Harry Potter Sir. D..D..Dobby would be honoured!” the elf replied, but he stuttered slightly, out of fear Harry guessed. Everyone was afraid these days.

“Dobby, I know house elf’s have a brand of magic of their own. I permit you to use any measure to protect Hermione’s parents, ok?” Harry asked, basically stated to the elf.

“Yes Harry Potter, Dobby will look after Miss Granger’s parents. If that is H..H..Harry Potter’s wish,” Dobby said in the same determined but trembling voice he used earlier.

Harry looked to Hermione who nodded carefully and said, “I’ll get dressed and leave a note for Dobby to give to them when they wake up.”

Harry smiled reassuringly, “They’ll be fine, Mione. Go on, we should go, they are in more danger with us about,” Harry said softly, walking over to her and smiling before nodding towards her room.

Hermione headed to her room in a hurry, but her footfalls could barely be heard anyway. Her face was stained by silent tears by the time she got to her room, but she quickly stopped crying when she remembered how sweet Harry had been; he wasn’t so cold tonight, as if something about them being alone together had stirred something in him. Hermione could relate: when he had his hand on her thigh she felt something she had never felt before, something stirring in her, something unfamiliar but desirable nonetheless.

Hermione quickly changed into some underwear, jeans, and a top and then preformed a packing spell. Confident all she needed was packed, she grabbed her spare black robes from her closet and slipped the robes on, then pointed her wand at her trunk and silently whispered “Locomotor Trunk.” She walked behind it as it floated down the hall towards Harry and Dobby.

Upon arriving in the lounge room she noted Harry also had donned his wizarding gear. When Hermione looked puzzled Harry simply said, “Dobby had it under my invisibility cloak, which I must have left because Remus sent it with him.”

Hermione nodded; it made sense and Harry had left that thing other places. Suddenly her mind started thinking again and she asked, while softly putting her trunk down, “Harry, where are we going? Not the Burrow, surely?” The Death Eaters wouldn’t hesitate to look if they thought they where there. While waiting for Harry’s response, she handed Dobby a neatly written letter.

”No Mione, you’re going too have to trust me,” Harry said, holding onto one of the handles of the trunk.

“Grab the other end of this and hold on tight,” he told her and muttering an incantation under his breath, the trunk turned blue, and then without another word they were gone.