Confrontation
The night at the bar was a blur of nervous glances, forced smiles, and strained conversations. Hermione kept a close eye on the entrance, her heart pounding with every creak of the door. She'd sent several texts to Severus, each one met with a quick, reassuring reply. But the longer the night dragged on, the more her anxiety grew.
As the clock ticked towards closing time, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. A shadow seemed to linger at the edge of her vision, a figure lurking in the darkness. She glanced towards the alleyway, her breath catching in her throat. A dark figure emerged, a menacing silhouette against the dim light.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She had to act fast. She sent a frantic text to Severus, her fingers trembling as she typed: "He's here."
The moment the message was sent, she turned to face the approaching figure. It was Roland, his face twisted with rage and obsession.
"You thought you could escape me, didn't you?" he hissed, his voice low and menacing.
Hermione's breath hitched. "Roland," she said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the fear coursing through her. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to get you, of course," he sneered. "You belong to me, Hermione. You always have."
He stepped closer, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity. Hermione instinctively took a step back, her hand reaching for her hidden pepper spray.
"Don't try anything stupid," Roland warned, his gaze fixed on her hand. "You know what I'm capable of."
Hermione's mind raced. She had to stall for time, to give Severus a chance to arrive.
"Roland, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling slightly. "Just leave. This isn't going to end well."
"It will end exactly how I want it to end," he growled, his grip tightening on her arm. "You're coming with me, Hermione. And this time, you're not going to escape."
Hermione made a mad dash to the back alley hoping to put distance between her and Roland.
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The alleyway was dimly lit, a perfect stage for the sinister play about to unfold. Roland, his face contorted with a mix of rage and obsession, cornered Hermione. His eyes, dark and menacing, bore into hers.
"You thought you could escape me, didn't you?" he hissed, his voice low and threatening.
Hermione's heart pounded in her chest. She knew she couldn't reason with him. She'd tried that before. She had to fight, to survive. With a surge of adrenaline, she lunged at him, aiming a swift kick at his shins. He stumbled back, momentarily surprised by her unexpected attack.
But Roland was larger, stronger. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully behind her back. Hermione cried out, the pain shooting up her arm.
"You little bitch!" he growled, pushing her against the brick wall. The impact knocked the air from her lungs. The brick scraping roughly against her skin.
He slammed her against the wall again, and again. Hermione's vision blurred, her head spinning. She struggled against his grip, but his hold was too strong. Fear clawed at her throat.
"You're mine, Hermione," he snarled, pressing his body into hers, his hot breath on her cheek. "You'll never escape me."
A surge of defiance rose with Hermione, she did the only thing physically possible and spat in Roland’s face.
She tried to make another run for it with Roland distracted momentarily but he grabbed her by the hair harshly and threw her back up against the brick. Hermione let out a yelp of pain.
This time his large hand had a vice-like grip on her throat, in a panic she began clawing at it trying to break free.
“I’m going to make you pay for that my dear Hermione,” he said with a sickening evil smile.
He reared back and struck her with a piercing crack to the face. Hermione could taste the blood upon impact from the deep gash now adorning her lip.
Without a minute to spare, he backhanded her across her other cheek, his hand landing with a loud smack. Her once porcelain skin was now marred a crimson red upon her right cheek, sure to leave a nasty bruise.
Hermione whimpered in pain, she began to lose her bearings. With a lack of airflow and the barraging onslaught of blows to her face, the world was beginning to fade into black.
He raised his hand, ready to strike yet again. Hermione closed her eyes, bracing for the impact. But it never came.
A sharp crack echoed through the alleyway. Roland cried out, clutching his arm. Hermione opened her eyes to see Severus standing protectively in front of her, his wand raised.
"Get away from her," Severus growled, his voice dangerously low.
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Fueled by a primal rage he hadn’t felt in years, Severus moved with a speed and ferocity that belied his usual languid grace. He didn't need magic to deal with this scum.
Severus's assault was swift and decisive. He lunged at Roland, a flurry of punches and kicks. Roland, caught off guard, was no match for the skilled wizard. He retaliated, but his blows were weak and ineffective against Severus's well-trained body.
With a final, forceful blow, Severus sent Roland reeling. The man stumbled backward, clutching his injured arm. "You'll regret this, Snape," he snarled, his voice filled with venom. "You haven't seen the last of me, Hermione."
With that, Roland turned and fled into the night, disappearing into the shadows.
Severus turned his attention back to Hermione. The sight of her, battered and bruised, filled him with a mixture of anger and despair. Her face and body were marred with bruises, her lip split and bleeding. The marks of Roland's violence were a stark reminder of the danger she had faced.
"Hermione," he whispered, his voice filled with concern. He gently cupped her face, his touch gentle and soothing. "Are you alright?"
Hermione's eyes, filled with a mixture of fear and relief, met his. "I think so," she managed to say, her voice weak.
Severus knew she wasn't alright. He could see the fear in her eyes, the trembling of her hands. He pulled her into a protective embrace, shielding her from the cold night air.
"It's over," he murmured, his voice a comforting balm. "He won't hurt you again."
But Hermione knew better. Roland was a dangerous man, capable of anything. She had escaped his clutches a few times, but she knew he wouldn't give up easily. She was a target, a prize to be claimed.
As Severus led her back to the bar, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The night had been a harrowing ordeal, a stark reminder of the darkness that still lurked in the shadows. But she also knew that she had a protector, a guardian angel, who would always be there to shield her from harm.
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The car ride back to the headquarters was shrouded in heavy silence. Hermione sat curled against Severus, seeking solace in his warmth and familiar scent. The shock of the attack was slowly wearing off, leaving a raw ache in its wake.
Severus held her close, his hand gently stroking her hair. He couldn't shake the image of her bruised and battered face, the fear in her eyes. A wave of guilt washed over him. He should have been there, should have protected her.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have been there. I should have protected you."
Hermione looked up at him, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's not your fault, Severus," she said softly. "You can't be everywhere at once, besides it was me who insisted on returning to work."
But Severus couldn't help but blame himself. He was supposed to be her protector, her guardian. He had failed her. He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. He couldn't break down, not now. Hermione needed his strength, his support.
The warehouse loomed ahead, a beacon of safety in the darkness. Severus had texted Lucius and Draco, warning them of the situation and asking them to retire for the night. He knew Hermione wouldn't want an audience for her pain.
As they entered the building, a sense of gloom settled over them. The events of the night had cast a long shadow, a reminder that the world outside their sanctuary was still filled with danger. Severus led Hermione to her room, his heart heavy with worry.