Black and White

This fic becomes AU after the Goblet of Fire.

Warnings: The story may get a bit dark. I'm flirting with notions that some may understand as abuse, and if you're not comfortable with it I suggest you leave the fic. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Also, I have a group of people I must thank. First, Gildorelf for the plotbunny. Second (but not least) to the group of wonderful people who have helped me betaing this fic. Cynthia, Maddy, Alysya, Venefica, Meg, Tawa, Flourishnblotts.
And in 2005 Nevermore joined the ranks and gave the text a final sweep, getting rid of awkward punctuation and plot holes I didn’t even know were there. You were amazing, and not a pain at all. Thanks for helping me get through the way.


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Hermione closed the door behind her with an odd sense of separation: she was somewhere out of there, watching detachedly what her 'shell' was doing.

She wanted out.

Out of that goddamned house, out of that city and out of the whole fucking universe. Even out of her skin, if that was magically possible. She had been used, discarded, humiliated. It was not the act of sex itself that had her hurt; it had been exciting - a contact with a more primal side she had not even known she had. It was the afterwards that got her bad. She was a Gryffindor, not a saint. There were limits to anything. He had crossed the line, and she would not admit such a thing - ever. Training was one thing, that was another entirely.

She felt she needed some time to think things through. Had she been still at Hogwarts she would hide in her Head Girl quarters or in the library. Or in any lesser used classroom or broom closet. But there, there she was trapped in a city where she had no friends, her only acquaintance being the very man she wanted to escape.

She had nobody to talk to. Not her mum, not Mrs. Weasley, not Professor McGonagall, not anyone, not even silly, sweet Ginny.

She really needed out.

Hermione knew Snape would expect her to stay crying in her bed for hours. But she had grown a bit from that lonely, insecure, scared bossy first year weeping in the girl's bathroom. She was a grown woman now. And she would act.

Pulling her school bag from under her bed, she methodically chose a few clothes from her wardrobe - three pairs of jeans, two shorts, four blouses, five T-shirts, two sweaters, a bikini, a handful of underwear and her necessities. She separated a pair of jeans and a T-shirt for her to wear and put the rest inside the bag, then went to the writing desk and got her documents and what cash she had. The urge of taking a shower had never been so strong, but she could not waste any time with it - that would have to wait till she got out of there.

You may have trained me too well, buddy.

Hurriedly grabbing her wand (safely stuffed in her boots) and her jeans jacket, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and left the house.

And as she walked through the streets, Hermione wondered what a change of location would do her. Obviously, staying in the same house with him was out of the question. And with a little luck, the cold-hearted bastard would worry himself sick wondering where she was, if she was caught...

If she had given him away...

Hehehe.

Swallow that, dearest.

It was mid-October and the almost unbearable heat of the city had begun to increase. Hermione shuddered thinking she had just got past the winter, and the temperature would start increasing like a rocket. God help her, she would not survive the summer.

The heat had almost a life of its own as she walked from her house to the travel agency two blocks away. They lived in the downtown area, so pretty much everything was close to them. Hermione entered the small, mercifully cool room with an almost fearful expression - how should she explain a nineteen-year-old foreigner, travelling all by herself?

But she needed to get out of there. Fast.

The couple in front of her was saying something about a big party. Hermione's grasp of Portuguese had come along surprisingly well, but not that much. Memorizing a few lessons in a book is one thing, but actually learning a new language is something else entirely! Hermione remembered the country was divided in five regions, named North, Northeast, Middle-East, Southeast and South. They were obviously heading to the Northeast Region, where the festival was held at that time.

So much for running from the heat. Well, it would be somewhat hard, but that at least had a chance to work out, so what the heck...

What had Snape told her about the Unspeakables? When in a pinch, improvise. But be smart about it, make the story believable.

"Good afternoon, madam," she said, making her British accent even thicker. It sounded rather Scottish, by the way. Not that Hermione thought they'd really know the difference.

The woman before her opened a sunny smile that made the Gryffindor well aware the travel agent had identified her a disoriented, helpless tourist. Oh, hell. She really needed out.

"Good afternoon, miss. How can I be of service?" the young lass replied, with tentative English - but it was English nonetheless, and she seemed to be able to speak it well, so Hermione would not be the one complaining. But then again, what did she expect? It was a travel agency for god's sake!

"I was wondering if you could direct me to that festival in the northeast. I arrived here a week ago for holidays and still have a few weeks left, and I wished to see that big feast instead of going to Rio. Could you help me on that?"

The woman absolutely beamed.

"Of course we can help you, Miss...?"

Galene would not work here. "McCallister. Sarah McCallister. "

It was the name of her long-dead aunt, with the last name of a childhood playmate. Nothing to worry about being caught on that.

"Miss Sarah, I am Melissa," the travel agent began, but Hermione paid no heed. Hermione had learned enough to know that Brazilians always used the first name. Cultural differences, she thought with a mental shrug, trying not to notice that she really needed to take that shower. "When should you want that trip to take place?"

"Today. I just checked out of my hotel," she said, and uncertainly broke a shy grin. "I had hopes of being there as soon as possible, and could not waste my money."

Maybe saying that she was short on money had been a mistake, but that was of very little significance. She could stop by the Brazilian filial of Gringotts and get some more money out of the account her parents kept making deposits to, to assure she did not need anything in the chaotic times. Yes, that could be done. If she hurried. There was always a Knight Bus. In and out, and then off to the Northeast.

Taking the Knight Bus was risky, but Hermione really needed cash. Also, she had no idea where she could find a fireplace connected to the Floo Network, or if fireplaces were even used in a tropical wizarding society. Wizards may be as traditional as they come, but wouldn't a fireplace look suspicious in a country where temperature hardly reached the sixties?

If she could find a way to go to Gringotts and back by Knight Bus, maybe Snape would be lured into trying to find her in the magical world. If she was quick, she could be in the Muggle bus and far away from Curitiba by then.

"I see. Maybe then we could not book a plane ticket so quickly anyway. That leaves you the bus line."

"Is there any available for today?"

"Yes, it leaves at nine-fifty in the night. The bus station is quite close by. The cab fare will be cheap."

Hermione smiled gratefully." A ticket it is then. "

"A ticket for nine-fifty for Recife." Melissa typed furiously on her computer. They used IBM instead of Apple there, Hermione noticed. Curious. "Serrinha company... okay, now for the stay. You said you were short on money..." The girl really did not seem to mind it; maybe Hermione had been a bit unfair at that. "We have contacts with a few three-stars hotels that still have rooms available here..."

Hermione thought quickly.

"As close to downtown as you can, if you would be so kind. I'm not really sure I could find my way from suburb to the centre..."

She smiled her understanding. That woman was quickly becoming her angel, the top five people-I'm-most-grateful-for-on-the-whole-earth. "I think I have these two. One is in Boa Vista..." she paused to glance at Hermione "not really an option, actually, unless you are with a group. But we do have this one at Torres that should be perfect for you. It's very simple, but very well-kept, and the neighbourhood is calm."

Perfect.

"Perfect."

"That should be forty-five reais a day. For how long should you like to book?"

"A couple of weeks, but I'm trying to contact my boss to expand my vacation a bit, so if you could ask if it was possible to leave it as undefined..."

"Of course. Let me call them"

The whole transaction took less than twenty minutes, and Hermione left the agency with her ticket bought, a map of Recife in her hands and a room reserved.

Hermione checked her watch, calculating how much time she would still have before Snape figured out there was something afoot. She had been 'crying' in her rooms for thirty minutes now. If Snape left her on her own, great. If not, she would be running out of time quickly. And Hermione wished to take no chances on that.

Finding a quiet corner to call the Knight Bus was proving a bit harder. The streets were always crowded, and she walked and walked and walked till she lost any notion of where she was. Apparently she had left the centre and was in another neighbourhood, but this one did seem a bit more isolated. With a quick both-sides glance, Hermione waved her wand arm. And waited.

And waited.

It took ten bloody minutes to get there!

The bus was not the purple Harry had described for her; this one was lemon-green. The automobile, itself, was very much like any other Knight Bus she had ever seen in pictures, so she walked in without a second thought. No Death Eater could have had the time to find out she had run away at any rate.

"Bom dia senhorita! Bem-vinda ao Noitibus andante!"

She replied, "Okay, okay, I know! Just take me to Gringotts, and fast."

The man looked at her in puzzlement, and Hermione groaned. She asked again in Portuguese, speaking the words very carefully, "Leva eu para banco Gringotts, por favor."

"Ah. Pois não," he answered, also speaking slowly. It seemed he wanted to make sure she would understand him. How sweet (if a bit pathetic to watch from outside). "São três sicles."

Three sickles. All right. Hermione handed him some of the few magical coins she still possessed and went farther inside to explore. Thank goodness, she was the only passenger.

The trip went rather well - and fast. In fifteen minutes she was in front of the Gringotts bank in Brazil. The country had its own bank, apart from the rest of Latin America. Language stuff, together with some politics. Who cares?

"I will be done in a few minutes. If you could keep an eye in the area, I'd really appreciate it," she warned. Then repeated it in Portuguese. Brazil was way larger than England, Scotland and Wales. She did not want to wait forever until they arrived.

The bank was very different from what she had seen in London. For starters, it was smaller and far busier. And the goblins actually treated her well.

"I wanted to make a withdrawal under the account 2589," she said to the goblin when she reached his table. There was something of a line to talk to them.

Hermione allowed herself to relax. Some things were set in stone in the wizarding world, and one of those things was the privacy policy at Gringotts. They served whoever had a key to an account, without asking questions or making unnecessary reports. She was reasonably certain that not even Voldemort himself could wring anything from the little buggers unless they wanted to part with the information.

Nor could Snape.

Heh. I really like that.

The Knight Bus did not take so long to appear when she left the bank, and Hermione asked to be left at the shopping mall Estação. It was close enough to the bus station without being an obvious hiding place, and crowded enough that Snape would find it difficult to spot her even if he went there. After all, the last time she hid in the mall he could not find her, not until she allowed herself to be seen. Hermione walked her way from the mall and took a shower in the bus station, thanking God for that small luxury, and scrubbed her skin till it threatened to fall off.

Then she waited for the bus, dreading the possibility that Snape might be nice for once and try to talk to her in her room and figure out she had run. Her heart was in her throat until the moment the bus took the road.

She was free again.

The bad thing about travelling by bus is that it gives you time to think. Loads of time to think.

And it's not as if I could control my thoughts either, is it?

Thank goodness I didn't choose the economy class. My back - and butt - hurts enough as it is.

Against my will I keep trying to analyse what happened, trying to see any hint of a feeling there, any clue that I might have understood it wrong, that I have not been used like some cheap slut he got on the streets. Because that's how I'm feeling now. Cheap. Funny, really. I got laid before, sometimes with people I did not know so well; I had my fair share of late rendezvous in empty classrooms. It was comic, really, how people thought I was dating Blaise. True, he was cute, but just because he was a slightly less disgusting Slytherin doesn't mean we'd have to be shagging after the meetings. Why on earth did they think we were a couple? I guess I should be thankful for the diversion, I could go steady with Gregory for almost four months before the school realised they had linked me to the wrong prefect. Someone really ought to alert Dumbledore not to trust prefects so much. Patrolling the corridors at night gives you the perfect excuse to seek a little privacy... and with no one the wiser. I did not feel like talking about those things with Harry and Ron either... They're like brothers, and one just doesn't tell one's brother one found that Ravenclaw prefect cute as hell, and they had a nice talk, and that they explored one another late at nigh when they really should be patrolling the castle.

Because Hermione Granger has no life, right? She has not those kinds of feelings. Gosh, it took them years to figure out I was a GIRL!

So I never told them. If anyone asked, I was studying.

Hey, it wasn't a complete lie.

I just never wanted to explain to Ron that girls actually have desires, too.

But I did not understand it wrong. I just got too caught up in the heat of things to actually listen to what Snape was saying.

Bring the education to a new level, indeed. What was he talking about? That using sex is part of the job requirement? That I should learn to face sex coldly? That he's expecting me to open my legs for him whenever he feels the itch? What, damn it, what the fuck was it about?

He was up to something. Just what exactly he had in mind is another matter. Snape never does a thing without an ulterior motive. Or several ulterior motives. Not that I'm sure I want to know. In fact, I'm probably better off not knowing at all.

Maybe I'm a coward. But then again, I'm fairly certain anyone else would have the same instinct - though most probably not the guts to go through it, but oh bugger.

Just hope I can think of something when I get there.

Though, once I am there, it would not be too bad to actually enjoy the feast. It has been far too long since I could enjoy myself without having to mind my manners or think of the consequences. Just being me.

Question is, do I still know who I am?

Hermione the Brain of the Trio is not here anymore. At least not all the time, that is.

Hermione, the Model Student and Head Girl extraordinaire is no longer here, either.

Hermione, or rather, Eileen, is one I want to bury deep under the earth, at least for now.

What do I do with my life?

God, does this road ever end?

I have a question - wow, as if that was a novelty, Hermione, honestly... anyway, back on track - is it rape if you wanted it, but then you regretted in the end?

Tough.

Well, so far I'm on the 'no' side. Being honest SO sucks. I participated, right? But it really hurts, not only what he did to me, but that I let him as well.

I should have known, damn it. Am I or am I not the cleverest witch to study at Hogwarts in centuries? (Don't answer.) It's not like he's a loving, caring person. He's not. And I knew it. It's that no matter how mind-blowing the sex is, I really wanted a kiss after. It's the kiss that counts, okay, as much or more than the coupling.

I do remember some of the things Lavender and Parvati discussed in our room. Hell, they made sure to interrupt me every single time! And now I discover I should have actually paid attention - not all the times, that would be too much, but sometimes.

And now I see I can indeed sink lower. At this rate I'll reach the centre of the earth.

It was right there, year after year, under my nose. Information females used to pass one another, trying to prevent her colleagues from going through the unpleasant experiences others had had. That was not important to my curriculum - it was important for my life.

If only I was more aware of how to see when a guy only wants to get into your knickers.

The road was horrible. Travel, stop, eat, shower if there is any available, back to the bus. Read a little - utterly boring, as she had brought only one book, and it was her 'Portuguese for foreign people'. Not the most exciting reading ever, not even for Hermione Granger. Besides, the bus shook too much for her to read for a lengthy amount of time. She'd ruin her sight. But after forty hours on that godforsaken road, she arrived at her destination.

The Bus Station, however, was utterly awful. Totally different from what she'd expect considering the one at Curitiba - she had seen glimpses of the other bus stations they stopped at, but had not had an overall picture.

Hermione, try as she might, could not find a single English speaker. Trying to figure how to get downtown was an adventure. She was directed to another bus station - municipal line - by a very pleasant gentlemen, and he stood by her till she got in the bus. Carrying only a school backpack it wasn't such a thing to travel around, but she urgently needed to wash her clothes.

She wasn't sure she could use magic. Better not to risk it, just to be on the safe side.

The neighbourhood was very nice - quiet and silent, a friendly part of town - and her rooms were very clean, tidy and cosy. It was nearly too much; Hermione hadn't been in a place that looked so much like ... like home for years. Hogwarts had become like home, but it wasn't the same thing...

She really missed her mum and dad.

And there, sweaty and tired from the heat and the long trip, Hermione Granger finally allowed herself to crash down and cry.