Rating: M for safety’s sake due to some dark events.
Characters: Hermione Granger, others implied
Pairing: HG/SS alluded
Warnings: Dark!Hermione, vague sexual references, sado-masochism

Dark eyes awake in the dark, and an arm reaches out to turn on the lamp beside the bed. The blaring red digits on her alarm clock read 4:00, and she grumbles as she drags herself from the bed. She stumbles into the dark kitchen, flipping a switch on the way, dimly illuminating the small space with one incandescent bulb, which hangs from a dangling string in the middle of the room. Even so, her eyes recoil from the light after so long in the darkness of sleep. She sets about making breakfast. The ground coffee goes into the perma-filter, followed by water in the reservoir. She presses a button and the old machine groans to life, sputtering and hissing as the heavenly aroma begins to permeate the air. She opens the cupboard and pulls out a half-stale loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. It is the only food she has, save for the coffee.

She sighs as she makes the sandwich, mumbling under her breath about “filthy Muggle habits.” She rinses the knife under the faucet and dries it with a tea towel of questionable cleanliness, then pours a cup of strong black coffee from the now-finished pot. She closes her eyes and takes the first sip of the hot brew, grimacing a bit at its strong bitterness.

She reaches for the knife again and cuts the sandwich into triangular quarters. As she lays the knife on the counter, the dim bulb overhead glints off the reflective surface, causing a memory to surface of strong fingers quickly, yet precisely chopping various potions ingredients. She winces at the pain the memory causes, but is quickly taken back to a different time and situation when those same strong and incredibly nimble fingers did something entirely different from chopping, slicing, and dicing ingredients for brewing glory. Oh, the hidden talents those fingers had possessed, she thinks as her lips curl into a half-sneer. She had, at times, thought his hands and fingers were completely wasted on the endless potions he concocted. It was at those times, when his fingers were busy on a certain part of her anatomy that she had found complete peace. Only at those times, she bitterly recalls, and never since.

She snaps back the present and notes that her once hot coffee is now cold. How much time has she wasted with her daydreaming? She knows she has somewhere to be soon and the consequences for not being on time – early even – were dire. She heads to the small bathroom to begin her daily ministrations. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the way reveals that she spent nearly thirty minutes in her foolish daydreams of the past. She almost kicks herself, but knows that the kicking will come all too soon, and not from her own feet.

A quick, hot shower later, she steps out and begins drying herself with a thin, ragged towel. She is again bombarded with childhood memories of large fluffy towels that smelled of fabric softener and her mum’s perfume, and even larger fluffier towels that had been charmed to smell like whatever scent the user wanted. That was back when magic ran rampant through her body. Back when she still had a wand to channel her magical energy and could do any spell shown to her, even if it was only shown to her once. She uses a wet washcloth to wipe the steam from the mirror, and is surprised to see how thin her face has become. She once had a nice face, full of the vitality of youth and filled out with the last vestiges of baby fat. Now her cheeks are sunken in and there are dark rings under her eyes, showing her lack of sleep and proper nutrition. Her eyes had once glittered and shone with her lively vivacity, but now are just hollow bastions of mud brown. How fitting that my eyes look of mud to betray my Mudblood heritage, she thought.

Her hair is still as thick and bushy as ever, though the ends are a bit too brittle for a witch her age. She begins to wrestle the knots from her hair, and wishes for the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion that she used to use on it. She makes a note to remember to ask her Master if she could have ingredients to make some, since she knows he prefers her hair to be sleek and smooth so he can run his fingers through it as he commits atrocious acts on her body.

She feels a twinge of sadness as she remembers those strong hands helping to make Sleekeazy's Hair Potion for her, and the playful chase they had to see who could get to the bathtub first. It was her first time making it, and they had to test it out. His nimble fingers had massaged the potion into her hair as they bathed together in the large tub awarded someone of his rank. Afterwards, they had sat in front of the fire, basking in its comforting glow, as he brushed her hair until it was smooth and shiny and crackled in the firelight. They’d made love on the rug when he finished, and fallen asleep in each other’s arms, lulled by the hisses and pops of the fire and by their own exhaustion from physical exertion.

She can feel her chest constrict at this memory; it is more painful than the generic memories of earlier. It was the last time they had been together before hell broke loose.

She moves from the bathroom, finally pleased with her hair’s obedience, and dresses in the outfit her Master favors the most. She knows he will be pleased with it, and his pleasure will allow her a moment of happiness as well, for she is only truly happy when her Master is. The bodice is a corset made of sleek black leather, and the skirt flows down to brush the tops of her feet, which are bare as always. Her Master never allows shoes to mere Mudbloods. It is part of his insurance that they won’t run away. He took their wands years ago, and they have all been forced to be without magic since then.

She looks again at her alarm clock and sees that it is time to go. As if on cue, the fire in the fireplace roars to life, shimmering green at the open Floo connection. She steps in and is whirled away to an unknown destination. She only knows that her Master wants her there, and so that is where she must go.