A/N: I know, I'm terrible for writing yet another angsty story but it's what I'm good at! (I hope!) There isn't enough angsty one shots for this pairing so here's my contribution. You either love this sort of stuff or you hate it but I thought I would share this anyway.

Disclaimer: You know the drill… Characters belong to JKR, but the twisted plot is mine :p

Kitten or Mudblood

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I, Hermione Granger, have a secret. A secret that exists to none but myself, a secret that I'll take to the grave.

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I'm not sure when it began.

Can't place a metaphorical finger on the exact date in my head.

It's a blurred mess in there, filled with the memories I'm not sure I want to keep.

I suppose a good place to start is when I noticed him staring at me. Those darkly intense eyes would fixate on me at the dinner table or in the library, an immoral glint shimmering in the light. They were the types of stares one might direct at a lover or a wife, not a sixteen year old girl.

And yet, he wouldn't divert his eyes to his plate or to the empty space to his right when I caught him looking. The shining seemed to intensify when I stared back, it kept on growing until I felt my stomach clench and had to look away.

His eyes were always filled with a glistening something. Something I didn't understand.

Sometimes he might have been forced to look away if someone cast their eyes in his direction, usually Moody sending one of his 'I've got my eyes on you' scowls.

Only he didn't, not really. Nobody saw what I saw in his eyes. Not the retired Auror, Mrs Weasley or even Professor Dumbledore.

No one else noticed Sirius Black watching me.

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He would always be near me.

On rainy days I would be sprawled out in front of the fire in the Black family library, brushing up on my theoretical knowledge of spells, noting the effects that different wild mushrooms had on potions, or most likely re-reading Hogwarts, a History for the one hundredth and eleventh time.

I would feel his presence before seeing him. Sometimes there would be a whisper of cool air that caught the back of my neck and when I would turn my head around he would be there, standing over me.

Always with that gleaming darkness in his eyes.

He would offer to walk me to my room but I would never hear his footsteps descend back down the hall and to his own room, not even after I'd locked the door and hidden myself under the covers of my bed.

I would cry myself to sleep out of fear of Sirius Black. Occasionally he would turn up in a dream and all I saw were those eyes, as dark as the night sky and filled with the sparkle that only I saw.

It seemed ridiculous being scared of my best friends Godfather, being scared of an innocent man.

But he wasn't, not really.

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He used to call me 'Kitten'. His Kitten.

It was only used when we were alone together, usually when we were both in the library with the door shut.

I remember reading an old book I'd found, The 100 uses of Lacewing flies, and he was reading a Muggle motorbike magazine. Every so often I felt his eyes peering over the top of the pages and falling upon my form.

And then he announced suddenly, "Time for bed, Kitten."

I dropped my book onto the desk. "Excuse me?"

He smirked, horribly. "It's half past eleven and you look very tired."

"Well I'm not tired, actually. And I won't be told what to do."

His laughter sent a fleet of panicked shivers running up and down my spine. "You'll do as I tell you, Kitten. Or do you think your Mudblood pride is enough to protect yourself against me?"

My face paled in shock. He couldn't call me a-a… Mudblood? This was Sirius Black, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a fighter for the light side and yet he'd just called me a Mudblood. He had rebelled against his family in his teens because he so hated the Pureblood drivel, he wasn't like those other Purebloods, like the Malfoy's or the Goyle's.

But he wasn't so different after all.

I hurried out of the library and ran to my bedroom as fast as I could go, slamming the door behind and diving into my bed.

His words kept me awake, repeating over and over in my mind.

I was the only one to see that side of Sirius Black, the evil, cold, manipulating side of him.

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The names hurt me.

I was Kitten or Mudblood to him, always one or the other, never Hermione Granger.

"Morning, Kitten," he would mumble on a good day. Bad days and privacy ensured that the word 'Mudblood' would be directed at me, usually more than several times.

I even started to count. Twenty-four or so was usually the average but particular days of rage could mean that horrible name slurred from his mouth as many as fifty times. As for 'Kitten' I never bothered counting. It didn't hurt me to the same extent as the 'M' word. But even so, it would still do a pretty good job at making me feel worthless.

I used to repeat that old Muggle phrase in my head, Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you… Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you…

It didn't help much. The names always stung me and I would cry myself to sleep over them each night.

That phrase is a lie. Words hurt as much, sometimes even more than physical pain.

Or at least I thought they did, until he showed me what pain really was.

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Out of all the things I remember about Sirius Black I remember one night most of all.

It haunts me in the daytime, the night-time and just about any other time. I relive that memory every night in my dreams, and every night it wakes me up shivering, sweating and crying because there's nothing I want more than to simply forget

I've contemplated going to the Obliviators and getting them to deal with it but then they would know. No one needs to know. And the thought of ending up in a bed next to Gilderoy Lockhart is enough to stop me from trying to obliviate myself.

No one knows that Sirius Black raped me and I'll keep it that way forever.

I try to forget how he came into my room on a Friday night but I can't.

It was a 'good' day, for him anyway, and so 'Kitten' was the name he called me.

"Hello, Kitten," he whispered and I heard the clicking of the door being locked.

I didn't speak or move or anything. Fear had frozen my blood and rendered me hopeless.

But I remember crying silently, just letting the tears spill freely out of my eyes, too lost to try to stop them.

And I remember how he stripped me of my clothes, exposing my flesh inch by inch, his hands roaming in place of my nightgown.

I remember the rustling of his own clothes being shed. The feel of his body pressed against mine. The pain of it all…

I remember closing my eyes and letting everything go blank, as I let him do what he liked to me.

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I couldn't tell anyone.

He told me not to and, despite everything, I took his words as nothing but serious.

I thought about telling Ginny but the words would get stuck with the bile at the back of my throat.

And what if no one cared? What if they thought it was a lie.

It was just Sirius and I who knew.

I couldn't tell anyone else, not ever.

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We went back to Hogwarts and I felt safer than ever, despite everything bad that was happening in the world around me. At Hogwarts there was no Sirius Black, no names and no rape.

But even so he hadn't disappeared altogether. There was the occasional letter he might send, wishing his 'little Kitten' a Merry Christmas or good luck in exams. I read them and burned them. No one could ever know.

It was a tough year, what with Umbridge, Dumbledore's Army and the seemingly powerful rising of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

And then there was the Department of Mysteries. Everything seems surreal and deadly in my mind. Flashes of spells from both sides, screams and the death.

I was secretly pleased when I saw that sparkling light leave Sirius Black's eyes as he fell through the Veil.

And even though that night took someone away from Harry, it gave me something back.

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I, Hermione Granger, have a secret. A secret that says I'm no longer his Kitten or Mudblood, a secret that says I'm free to live again.

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A/N: Reviews are golden! Let me know what you think!