Setting: Set after DH, disregarding epilogue. We're back at Hogwarts to complete the 7th year.

Author's Note: Okay, this one just kind of hit me tonight and I knew that I had to type it up. I have ideas for more installments, though not anything too well formed yet. I'm working on something else right now, so if I do continue this one, it'll be updated infrequently when I feel the need for a cleansing distraction from my WIP. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing.

Content Warning: Graphic sex and rape (sort of) but only in the first chapter. If that's not your thing, it's not my fault. I'm not making you read it.

Disclaimer: Okay, we all know this is J. K. Rowling's playground, and I am not she. I make no money from this and own nothing but the plot. You get the idea...


Hermione didn't know what time it was. Somewhere between midnight and predawn. She didn't sleep much anymore – not since the war. Since returning to Hogwarts for her seventh year, she'd turned to wandering the halls at night to find solace from the nightmares that plagued her every time she closed her eyes.

She'd held it together so well during the war, she'd never have thought herself the kind to fall to pieces like this. But when the war had ended, she hadn't known how to live in a world where her life wasn't in danger. She lived in a world now where she was safe, but her shoulders never seemed to lose their tension, as though she was always expecting an attack. Her mind remained tight with worry, wound to a fever pitch of readiness to confront a danger that wasn't coming.

She knew all of this, but she was powerless to do anything to change it. The very worst part was pretending like she wasn't one sudden noise away from hexing anyone in sight. Harry worried. Ron worried. Ginny worried. Professor McGonagall worried. Everyone seemed to be worried about her. So she'd started pretending. She'd pretended that everything was fine, and they'd started to believe her. Now she didn't know how to do anything else. She couldn't disappoint and worry them all.

So she basked in the silent solitude of the nighttime corridors, letting go of the mask. Allowing herself to think. To wallow. To be.

A noise in the corridor with her jolted her back to her standard high alert. Had it been the scuff of a footstep? The whisper of a voice? She couldn't be sure. She reached for her wand, but just as her fingers began to close around the wood, it slipped from her grasp.

A scream of panic built in her throat as she spun wildly, searching for her wand and the one who'd taken it. There was no one.

No, she corrected. There was no one visible.

She let her eyes unfocus and listened intently. There was a whisper – like a voice. She spun toward it, but it was too late. Her body slammed against the wall behind her and her arms slapped out to her sides, bound to the wall by something utterly immobile and as invisible as her attacker.

"What do you want?!" she screamed, choking on her panic as memories of writhing beneath the Cruciatus threatened to steal her away into a waking nightmare.

For a moment, the hall was silent apart from her own labored breaths. Then…

"You," a voice whispered so close to her ear that she could feel warm breath against her skin.

She yelped and tried to kick out at whoever it was only to discover that her ankles had joined her wrists in immobility. She screamed in futile desperation and fought uselessly against her restraints.

And then something wet and foul hit the back of her throat and her mouth was forced closed, her nose plugged. A potion, she recognized the flavor, but couldn't place it.

"Calm down," the voice said in her ear again, and then she remembered. Calming draught.

She didn't want to swallow, but she had to breathe and knowing that it wasn't poison…

She gulped and gagged as her face was released. Her knees trembled slightly in lethargy as the potion began to take effect and she sagged a bit against the bonds. Without the adrenaline, her recent terror and her many nights of little sleep were conspiring to push her toward a doze despite her predicament.

"That's better," the voice approved. It was male, but she couldn't tell any more from the whisper. There was a muttered incantation, and then her clothes were gone. All of them. She was completely naked against the cold stone wall, at the mercy of an invisible man.

"Why are you doing this?" she managed to whisper. She would not beg for mercy, she resolved. No matter what happened, she would endure it with dignity. Well, as much dignity as was possible under the circumstances.

Instead of an answer, she felt warm breath against her neck, and then lips nibbling their way from her ear down to her shoulder. The swipe of a tongue. Gentle graze of teeth.

A huff of breath escaped her and she trembled involuntarily as a warm hand rose to stroke her breast and tease at her nipple.

No! She screamed at herself. She was being raped! She wasn't supposed to enjoy it! She tried feebly to buck against his touch, but his lips were working their way down to her other nipple. His tongue laved at the tender flesh, and then there was the gentle pressure of teeth.

Her eyes fluttered closed as the ghost of a moan escaped her throat. Gods, what was wrong with her?!

The lips curled against her breast – into a smile, she was willing to bet – and traveled lower still. She realized where they were headed and a new wave of panic tried to break through the potion's effects. The adrenaline was burning off the potion, but not fast enough. She couldn't quite reach true fear.

He wasn't going to… What kind of rapist would…?

All such thoughts and inhibitions fled her mind as a hot tongue sank into her already wet folds and she groaned in pleasure. Bliss blinded her and her thoughts rapidly devolved into renditions of, Yes…more…yes…don't stop! The words never left her throat, but her moans spoke volumes.

She felt her pleasure spike as it never had when she'd ministered to herself. The tongue moved faster, harder, as though he knew her very thoughts, and one long moan built into a scream of ecstasy as her every muscle contracted beneath her surge of pleasure.

Gradually, her sensibilities began to return as her body trembled through involuntary aftershocks. She felt long, slender fingers trail slowly up her thigh until they could be slathered in the wet heat trickling down her legs. One of them slipped inside her and she shuddered, a whimper of excited pleasure spilling from her lips.

The finger plundered her deeply, and then stopped. Slowly, it was retracted, and she felt the heat of his breath as he slowly rose. She became aware that he was quite a bit taller than her as his naked body met hers, and those wonderful fingers began a gentle twirl around her clit.

The breath was on her ear again as her arms were freed from the wall. She lowered them slowly, one to her side and the other to rest on the man's shoulder. "You can go," the voice whispered. "If you want to."

For a moment, she simply stood there, her lust addled brain trying to process what was happening. He was going to let her simply walk away?

The fingers hadn't stopped their gentle stroking and twirling though, and another shiver of pleasure coursed through her body.

Did she want to go?

Her hands found the flesh that she couldn't see and followed the line of his neck up to his face. She pulled it toward hers, her lips searching for his. She felt them meet. So unbearably soft, gentle, almost hesitant, and flavored with her own musk.

His lips parted and she moaned into his mouth as her tongue sought his.

And then her attacker returned. All gentleness was gone. His tongue speared her mouth as strong hands griped her shoulders and shoved her hard into the wall. Something half shriek and half groan crawled up her throat and she heard him grunt in return. His hands fell to her ass, squeezing painfully, drawing another shriek from her, and then he was lifting and her legs seemed to be his accomplices as they wound around his waist.

She felt the pressure as his cock found her entrance, and she just had time to think that she was about to lose her virginity to a man she'd never even seen. Then he drove into her and pain ripped through her body. He swallowed her scream, but it was still loud enough to ring off the hard walls. The pain did not relent as he withdrew from her almost completely, then drove in again.

It seemed like the pain would never end and tears fell freely down her face as her chest heaved beneath her sobs.

Then he scraped his pelvis against her clit and she was jolted with an unexpected bolt of pleasure. It happened again. The pain was fading, and…

"Oh!" she cried out in surprise as the first stab of pleasure landed inside her. Another followed. Stronger – more demanding. She groaned and angled her hips into him more fully. The next thrust hit deeper and she gasped.

"Better now?" his voice came roughly in her ear.

She nodded shakily and he started plunging into her harder. Cries of approval echoed off the walls once more as her pleasure mounted. The sublime agony of his tongue suddenly seemed pale and irrelevant compared to this newfound wonder as he stretched her in ways that she'd never been stretched. Wonderful, wonderful ways.

"Come for me, Hermione," he gasped, his lips brushing her ear. "Come on me."

His rasping plea pushed her over the edge. "Oh, Gods, Draco! Yes!" she screamed as she came and his cry immediately followed. He slammed into her rapidly a few more times and she felt his release flood her. She was trembling in his arms as they both struggled for breath.

After what may have been minutes or hours, she slowly began to think in straight lines again, and reality hit her like a slap in the face. When had she realized who he was? When had that happened? His voice, his scent, his height, the contours of his body against hers… At some point, her mind had sorted it out, but she'd not really understood it until she'd cried his name.

His lips met hers again, and she responded despite her revelation, moaning softly into his mouth.

He eased her back onto the cold floor and then his body left hers. She still couldn't see him. Suddenly, she felt very cold and exposed.

A pile of clothes hovered over to her and fell at her feet, her wand among them.

She faintly heard his footsteps retreat down the hall and then she was well and truly alone once more.


So what'd'ya think?