Twenty-Twenty Hindsight

Chapter Five

The rest of that week went by without a hitch. We met every night in the library, and then he took me down to his room for more intimacy. The night after Valentine's Day was our first time having sex. It wasn't his first time, obviously, but it was mine. Afterwards, I felt closer to him than I had felt to anyone my whole life. I know everyone always says it's the most amazing experience you can have, but I always thought they were just being melodramatic. In truth, at least in this case, that was the situation. It was enough to restore my faith in our love for each other. I thought, if it could be so amazing with him, how could he not love me as much as he said he did?

The following Friday night at dinner, I ended up sitting by myself because Alexis was sitting at the Hufflepuff table with her newest boyfriend and Ron, Hermione and Harry were off doing Merlin knows what. He was, of course, at the Slytherin table, but he always sat where he could see me.

Dean ended up sitting next to me. He wanted to know what had happened with us the year before. What possessed him to ask so long after the fact was beyond me, but I told him and we started talking. It was mostly about Quidditch; relatively safe territory. I was wondering what he might think if he saw me talking to Dean, but I figured that he wouldn't care since Dean was keeping a friendly distance between us on the bench.

Of course, I was wrong. Afterwards, we just met outside the Slytherin common room because it was easier than going all the way up to the library, then all the way back down to the dungeons. He grabbed my hand roughly and dragged me to his room, where he closed the door, locking and sealing it with at least six charms. Then he rounded on me for the second time.

I'd have to say it wasn't as bad as in Hogsmeade. He didn't break or dislocate anything, just smacked me around until all I wanted was to lie down and not wake up for a few days.

After that, he wanted to have sex again. We hadn't all week, and I wasn't feeling too up to it. But he begged and pleaded, and I finally gave in.

At first it was just as passionate as our first time. Then he started speeding up, and it began to really hurt. I asked him to stop, then started whimpering in pain. I don't know if he just didn't hear me or totally ignored me, but he went faster and faster.

By the end, I was sobbing with the pain. I thought it might make him sorry, but he slapped me and told me I was just a stupid, weak little girl. He told me to get out of his room if I couldn't act like a real girlfriend. I threw on my robes, not really paying any attention to detail, and tried to leave. Unfortunately, all the charms were still on the door and it wouldn't open. I asked him to remove the charms, but he just laughed and said that if he was going to do me a favour, I had to do him a favour.

Looking back, I can't believe I simply gave in without a fight. I guess it was just because I was so afraid of him hurting me again. He made me promise to let three Slytherins - of his choice - have their way with me while he watched. I started to beg for him not to make me do it, but he punched me in the stomach and I was done in.

There's only so much abuse you can take in one night.

I feel absolutely horrible that I let him force me into that promise. Afterwards, as I made my way slowly back to the Tower, I realized the hypocrisy in his request. He couldn't stand the thought of me talking to other boys, yet he wanted to watch me be forced into sex with three Slytherins? It didn't make any sense. But the more I think about it now, I realize that he just enjoyed seeing me in pain. If I was enjoying myself with another guy, he would fly into a jealous rage and beat me. But if it was the last place I wanted to be, it seemed that he thrived on the pain it caused me.

He was a sick little fuck, and I don't know how I didn't see it at the time.

When I got back to my room, I crawled into my bed without talking to anyone and drew the curtains shut. I put a silencing charm on them and started crying. Sobbing, really. I felt like my chest had been ripped open and all its contents beaten to a pulp, then shoved back in again. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Who would? This was the boy I thought loved me; the boy I loved. It had to be some sick dream, I thought.

After about a month of his torturous little games - such as the incident with the charmed door and the three Slytherins - I spiraled into depression. I had very morbid thoughts, and I often imagined ways to kill myself if it ever became too much to handle. I almost stopped eating altogether. I took nibbles of food at each meal to avert curious eyes, but I never ate a whole lot.

I thought that part of our problematic relationship was that I was chubby. I wanted him to think I was beautiful; I wanted to lose weight, for him. That's what I told myself. In reality, it was that I had simply lost my appetite. For everything, really. I was exhausted. My life was wearing me down, slowly but surely.

Cynna and Alexis were noticing a change in me, such as my not joining them on our usual Friday night drinking party in the Room of Requirement. By fifth year it had become a tradition to have a small get together every Friday night. When I stopped attending - slowly at first, then declining each and every time - they wondered if I was okay. They knew I had never enjoyed them as much as they did, but that I did like to be a part of it.

They started asking questions, like what he and I had done; whether we were serious about each other; if everything was okay in our relationship. I kept what we had done to myself - I was sure that it would somehow spread around the school, and the last thing I wanted was for Ron to find out. But I answered yes to their other questions, of course. Everything was fine. He needed me. I was his only source of comfort from the controlling nature of his father, and if he slipped up and beat me, I deserved it for not being a good enough girlfriend. He was right; I shouldn't talk to other boys without his permission, and if I did, I was cheating on him.

If I had shied away from Harry before, I avoided him like the plague now. Everyone knew of my enormous, youthful crush on him. Of course, speaking to Ron or Hermione was permissible; he wasn't afraid of my being incestuous or a lesbian. But if I came within ten feet of Harry, I could count on paying for it later.