Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Genres: Dark, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Situations, Profanity, Torture, Violence
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometimes, your enemy is the only friend you have. Other times, he is no friend at all. When you have absolutely no one to turn to, can you turn to the one who is theoretically the cause of it? Or will he then try and turn you against everything you believe? Birthday challenge.
Length: 8/10 Chapters. This chapter: 1444 words.
He was back only hours later.
Hermione shot off the bed where she had been lying, staring blankly at the page of one of her books. “What are you doing here?” she asked warily, trying to hide her surprise and mounting fear at his quick reappearance.
Draco sneered at her. “I believe I may have treated you too well. You seem to think I need to answer to you,” he said, throwing her a cloak. “Put this on. And keep your head down.”
She looked at him incomprehensively. “Where are we going?”
“For a walk. And don’t get any ideas, you wouldn’t get very far.”
Hesitantly she put the cloak on and he pulled her hood up, hiding her face and her telltale hair, before pulling out his wand and muttering, making her vision go dark.
“Sorry, princess. I’m not that stupid.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him.
She didn’t know where they were going or why, but she really had no choice but to follow him. She had to almost run to keep up with his stride. What was he planning to do? She wasn’t getting a good feeling about this.
Suddenly he stopped. “We’re here,” he muttered. “If you’re smart you won’t attract any attention.” He pulled out his wand again and returned her vision.
Hermione blinked. They were standing in the shadows in the hallway right outside the big empty room where Voldemort had been holding court. Only, right now it was not so empty. A long table had been placed in front of Voldemort, where some of his Death Eaters were having a feast. Most of them looked young, so they must have been recruited recently. His numbers seemed to be growing every day.
Hermione looked questioningly up at Draco, but he just stared straight ahead as if waiting for something, so she turned back. For several minutes nothing happened. The girls serving the Death Eaters were looking downtrodden, but nobody paid them any mind. Hermione was rapidly becoming bored. She glanced at Draco again, but he was still watching impassively. She frowned and turned back. They were just eating. They weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary. She didn’t understand.
Then, as if on someone’s silent command, a struggling woman was brought in and deposited in the middle of the room. The talking died down as everyone was expectantly looking at her. She was quite obviously pregnant. She was also quite obviously scared out of her wits.
Hermione instinctively knew that she wasn’t going to like this. “I want to go,” she whispered, instinctively moving closer to Draco, forgetting that he’d been violent to her only hours ago.
“You’ll stay,” he coldly replied. “And you’ll watch.”
For the first time, since she got there, Voldemort spoke up. “Jensen,” he said, getting the attention of a rather nervous-looking young Death Eater. “I’ve heard about your recent exploits. Why don’t you show this Mudblood what we think of her kind breeding with each other?”
“Me?” the young man asked in a voice that fairly squeaked. There were a few sniggers and smirks from his fellow Death Eaters. Hermione even felt a faint movement from Draco beside her in reaction. She didn’t dare look at his face, though, because she didn’t know how she would handle it if he was amused.
Voldemort merely gestured towards the woman.
The young man got up on legs that were looking a bit unsteady and slowly made his way around the table towards the woman, who was quietly sobbing.
“Why him?” Hermione whispered.
“Because he has displeased our Lord by showing too much kindness towards Mudbloods,” Draco calmly answered, shooting her a warning glance. “He will now do the deed or suffer the consequences. Others at that table, however, would view it as a reward.”
“D-deed?” Hermione asked, too horrified to take her eyes away from what was happening in front of her.
Draco didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. In front of them, the young man was almost green in the face, but he raised his wand at the woman and she let out a bloodcurdling scream as the Cruciatus Curse took effect. Hermione lunged forward and was about to call out, when strong arms grabbed her, a hand covering her mouth.
“Quiet,” Draco hissed. “You don’t want them to notice you; they will kill you on sight.”
The woman fell down on her knees, her arms hugging her stomach as if to protect the life inside of her. Her screaming went on and on and Hermione couldn’t take it. She struggled against the arms holding her, but it was no good; he wasn’t letting her go.
Then the bleeding began. At first it was just a small red stain between the woman’s legs, but soon it was drenching the woman’s clothes. Some of the Death Eaters looked downright gleeful, and were whispering excitedly, others stared in fascination. Only one or two looked sickened. Voldemort himself was smiling. The woman was now sobbing pitifully and moaning with the pain between screams. Hermione realized that she was crying herself as her vision became blurry. She squirmed in Draco’s arms, managing to turn her back on what was happening, not wanting to know what would happen next and feeling truly helpless for the first time in a very long while.
“Please,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to see any more. Why are you doing this to me? And why aren’t you doing something to help that poor woman?”
He steered her away, deeper into the shadows and looked at her with something that looked a bit like pity. “She was dead the minute she got caught,” he said. “There’s nothing I, or anybody, can do when his mind is made up about something like this.”
“And God forbid that you should actually TRY,” Hermione bitterly said, pushing away his hand which was still on her arm. She had nothing but loathing left for him and everything he stood for.
“And what would I do, hm? Barge in there like a madman and get myself killed without making a damn difference? Is that what your precious Potter would do?”
“You have no heart!” she exclaimed loud enough for him to shoot a worried glance towards the room and steer her further away.
“That’s beside the point,” he said when he was finally satisfied with them being out of earshot. Hermione really could care less. If they killed her, at least it would be over.
“What WAS your point? To torment me? To make me hate you? Because, in that case, it was a complete success!”
His eyes glittered angrily. “My point was to show you just what it is you’ve been missing out on. Are you sorry? Would you have preferred to spread your legs for one of those sadists?”
“You’re no better, you never were!” she accused.
He looked very much as if he wanted to strike her again, but he didn’t. Instead, he darkened her vision and hauled off with her. “Believe that if you want,” he mumbled. “But believe me; you don’t want to find out for sure.”
“How are you any better?” she spat when they were back in the confines of her room and he’d allowed her vision to return.
“I never used an Unforgivable on you… yet!” His eyes were warning her not to overstep. She didn’t care.
“So what if you didn’t? You hit me!”
“Once, and I had damn good reason. Some might argue I had plenty of reason to beat you senseless!”
“What? I displeased you? Is that damn good reason in the world of the sick and twisted?”
“I gave you but a smidgen of trust and you abused it! You were going to murder me in my sleep and hightail it out of here!”
“I told you, I was not going to kill you!”
“Even if you weren’t, do you really think I would really have survived letting you escape? The Dark Lord wanted you for a reason and Merlin help anyone who’d get in the way of that.”
Hermione faltered. She hadn’t thought of that. She had just thought about getting out of there. “Y-you wouldn’t be running those risks if you were on the right side in this,” she said.
He glared at her. “I am on the right side in this. The winning side. I’m not about to become a turncoat and go down for some stupid cause I don’t believe in, so forget about trying to manipulate me again, Mudblood.”
She didn’t know what to reply to that and with a sneer he turned and stalked out the door.