Hello Readers. This story takes place in the middle of Deathly Hallows. As usual, I own nothing - all rights belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. Thank you for reading, please consider leaving a review.

...

The Unforgivables by suliswrites

Chapter One: Our Little Secret

...

Harry froze in horror. "I don't have the locket," he muttered, pacing around the tent, turning out his pockets. "It must have fallen off." He looked up into Hermione's eyes, the chill of fear hitting both of them.

If they had left it in the graveyard, the Death Eaters would surely find it. The task had seemed impossible already, but to lose one of the Horocruxes - there might be no way of regaining their upper hand. Once Voldemort knew what they were up to, it was all over.

"Accio Locket!" Hermione flicked her wand, desperately. The tent was still. Light from the lantern's flame flickered around the room against the shadowed canvas walls, but nothing came.

Her stomach dropped and they looked at each other. Harry set his jaw and took out his wand. "I have to go back for it, we don't have a choice. Watch him, Hermione - and stay here."

Before Hermione could say a word of protest, before she could plead with him and make him understand the madness of the risk he was taking, Harry was gone in a swirling pop. She stood alone in the tent, body still buzzing from the fight and all of the fear she had felt that night.

Now suddenly after all of the noise and adrenaline and spells whirling around her, she was so still. That's when she realized her ear was bleeding. Her hand came to the crook of her jaw and felt the small trickle of liquid there.

Damn it, Harry. What if they're waiting for you on the other side? What if you don't come back?

She wanted to apparate after him, but then she remembered, she was not alone. He was on the other side of that canvas wall, nothing holding him but a simple binding spell against a tree. Why in hell did they bring him here? It was absolute madness, every decision they'd made tonight.

Three long months had gone by since Ron left.

Day after day passed, living in silence together in the woods, waiting for some plan, some next step to show itself. When they'd finally decided to visit Godric's Hollow they knew it was a risk, that it might likely mean suicide - but what other choice did they have? They couldn't sit waiting for a safe step to suddenly appear. Every day more innocent people were being taken and murdered, every night Lee Jordan ran off the names of new victims on the Potterwatch radio broadcast. Hope was draining out of them, drop by drop.

And still no word from Ron. Nothing. How could he?

Of course the Death Eaters had been waiting for them when they arrived.

Not two steps through the cemetery gates and four had appeared before them in a rush of black cloaks. Within seconds hexes flashed all around them like lightning, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and they ran, dodging and disarming as they went.

Harry turned and threw "Petrificus Totalus!" and one of them crumpled in a black mass on the ground. The other three continued after them, a low and raspy male voice taunting "Come to see yer parents, Potter? Now they'll get to watch you squirm..."

Hermione gripped Harry's arm tighter. They took shelter behind a large tree and Hermione whipped around the trunk - "Reducto!" The statue of a large marble angel burst into a thousand pieces, hitting one of the hooded figures and knocking them down. They took off running again through the snow. The remaining two were gaining on them.

Harry held tight onto Hermione's hand as they ran deeper and deeper into the cemetery, jumping over tombstones, winding around trees. If they could just throw them off enough to get a moment to apparate safely together - it was crucial that they weren't separated, or they'd never figure out how to get back to the same rendezvous point in the forest.

A flash of red flew past Harry's head and he dodged it quickly but tripped over a headstone. Hermione grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him up, pushing him back into a sprint, throwing "Impedimenta!" over her shoulder. She looked back quickly to see if it had hit either of them but she had missed.

Suddenly a leg lock jinx took Harry down fast. Hermione spun on the spot and ducked as another spell came speeding past her shoulder, barely missing.

Harry was trying to crawl to where his wand had fallen, still bound in the jinx. The figure hurled another flash, this time green, just past Hermione's head. Harry had reached his wand and quickly removed the spell from his legs. Another flash of green, inches from her leg.

They may want him alive, but they're shooting to kill me...

"RUN, Hermione!" yelled Harry as he shot back at them.

She ran further into the shadowy trees past the statues. Behind her, she could hear Harry fighting with the Death Eater. And there were still two voices - still Harry's voice, Hermione thought. As long as she still heard his voice everything might still be alright. She held onto the sound until she had run so far that both had faded and all she could hear was the crunching of her own boots in the snow, echoing against the trees that now surrounded her.

She slowed, panting, scanning the horizon. Where is the fourth Death Eater? Where has he gone?

She was deep into a forest at the end of the cemetery now. The trees shielded much of the moonlight, and the new, dark stillness was terrifying.

Where is the fourth?

She held her wand before her, trying to keep her arm from shaking, watching for any movement, any sound.

"Leviocorpus Incarcerous!"

Suddenly her feet left the ground, and she was hanging in the air by her ankles, her arms pinned to her sides. Merlin help her, she'd dropped her wand.

She tried to make sense of the trees now below and the snow dappled ground now above. The hooded figure stepped slowly into view, till his masked face was inches from hers. He walked around her in a circle, wand outstretched. Hermione held her breath.

Oh please, Harry. Now would be a good time.

The man stopped behind her and she felt his hot breath pierce the cool air on the side of her cheek.

"Where's your pet Weasel, girl? The fear too much for him? Did he crawl back into his little hole?" the drawling voice whispered into her ear.

Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione's stomach turned and a chill shot down her spine. Why hasn't he just killed me? And then a worse thought: What does he plan to do to me before he kills me? Oh Harry, please get here...

He removed his mask with a flick of his wand and came to face her, his head cocked to one side, examining her features. The moonlight shone off his platinum hair and reflected up at him from the snow. He had never looked so cold to her; never looked more like a Roman statue, eyes ablaze in victory.

He was inches from her face. "You may not be the most valued prize of the night, Granger, but the dark lord will be overjoyed to meet you. 'The mudblood hero' - 'the brightest - witch - of - her - age,'" he sneered, parsing out each word, disgusted. "Shall I teach you your proper place? Hmm?"

Hermione spat in his face.

He inhaled sharply shutting his eyes, then slowly exhaled, gritting his teeth and wiping it away. In an instant he grabbed her hanging hair and yanked it back savagely, exposing her throat to him. Hermione yelped involuntarily. How she wished she hadn't given him the satisfaction of making that sound.

He gave one short laugh under his breath and leaned into her till his lips were at her ear. "I've done you the great honor of being a gentleman thus far - I don't have to be."Then he took her earlobe between his teeth and bit down hard. "Do you prefer me like this?" he whispered.

A small cry escaped Hermione in her shock. He pulled back, and taking a tighter grip on her hair, looked her dead in the eyes.

"You will learn to be grateful for me, Granger. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't Greyback who captured you. If you do not obey me, however, you will not be so fortunate. Do you understand?"

Hermione instinctually gave a brief nod.

"Good. Now, where is the Weasley boy? If, as it seems, he's no longer traveling with you..." He traced a gloved finger along her cheek, "then perhaps I should seek him out at his home?"

Hermione tried her best to keep her face impassive, but she couldn't hide her fear.

"No?" He asked, caressing her other cheek, "Then maybe dear little sister might know where he's gone to..."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

He grinned, jerking her hair violently once more, then leaned in, whispering in a low growl:

"Oh, mudblood. Don't worry- I'll have you begging at my feet before this night is over."

He released her hair with a shove and began to roll up his sleeve, cuff by cuff exposing the dark mark, tight across his arm. He lifted his wand towards it -

"STUPEFY!"

Suddenly the two of them were blasted backward. Hermione hit the snow with a thud. It took great effort to find her footing, as the world flipped back around. She saw her wand lying in the snow a few feet away and dove for it. Malfoy seemed to have hit a tree; he was splayed on the ground beneath it, just coming up onto his knees.

Hermione looked across the forest - Harry was sprinting towards them, he had thrown the jinx from several yards away. He was about to hit Malfoy with another, but she was determined to do it first. "STUPEFY!" she yelled.

Malfoy flew back like a whip against the tree. Disoriented and gasping for breath, he was starting to stand, moving for his wand.

All of the things he'd said to her roared into fury within her chest. The rage from his words sent heat pulsing like fire through every part of her. The rage of Ron leaving. The rage of this war - the pain - the loss - the hopelessness. Without thinking, she rushed towards him and aimed directly at his heart - "CRUCIO."

A jet of red light burst out of her wand, hitting him square in the chest, the pain shaking his imposing figure to ground.

She wanted it, meant it - and it worked.

He let out a guttural scream as Hermione carried the curse towards him, pushing it stronger into his body with every step. Malfoy's head flew back in agony, he was screaming again. The capillaries in his eyes were bursting - his teeth clenched against the pain.

He shrunk into a ball as she stood above him, the light continuing to stream from her wand until Harry grabbed her arm, "HERMIONE, STOP!"

She felt dizzy and looked up into Harry's face. There was such shock and fear in his eyes. He was staring at her as though he'd never seen her before. And when she looked back down, she found that Malfoy was unconscious.

Harry grabbed her by the shoulders, "What were you doing? Hermione! What were you doing?"

She shook her head and looked to the ground, "Let's just get out of here."

Harry nodded and looked to Malfoy. "What about him?"

Hermione looked, the dark mark was staring up at them from his lifeless arm. "He knows about Ron, Harry. He'd have them all after him at the Burrow in an instant when he comes to."

She could see a look of fear darken across Harry's eyes. He was thinking of Ginny, she knew it.

"A prisoner, then," he said firmly. "Maybe he'll prove useful."

And without another word, Harry took Hermione's hand and gripped onto Malfoy's arm, and they were gone in a 'pop.'

...

Hermione snapped back to the present. She had been standing frozen in the middle of the tent alone, staring at her wand. She took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on the canvas door.

Taking a few steps towards it, she went still, listening. He should have awoken by now, but all was silent. She inhaled a determined breath, raised her wand, and stepped out.

Lucius Malfoy was bound in Harry's Incarcerous spell, seated on the ground against a large pine tree, vines wrapped tight from his torso up to his neck. Two lanterns hung from the entrance of the tent, and only a faint orange glow reached him in the darkness.

He was more disheveled than she'd ever seen him - Azkaban had already scorched his aristocratic features, and the pain she'd inflicted earlier this evening showed in dark circles under his eyes, pale blond strands falling across them. But for all of it, he still looked like some mythological god, born from fire and stone.

He tilted his head in curiosity toward the tent, a calm anticipation on his sharp features. As Hermione stepped out into the light an undeniable flicker of excitement crossed his face.

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. He looked to the tent and then back to her. "Alone again are we?"

Hermione said nothing.

"Now why in the world, would he leave you here with me?"

He may be a psychotic pig, but he's not an idiot.

"I wonder..." he continued. "Must be something awfully important."

"Perhaps you should be more concerned with the fact that you are now at my mercy, Malfoy."

"Indeed. Clearly I was mistaken - It seems I am the one to be begging at your feet this evening." There was a slight trace of a smirk at the corner of his lips as his eyes ran down her along her body to the ground.

"I never would have thought you up to it, Granger. An Unforgivable - and with such feeling. Tell me - was I your first?"

The innuendo was not lost on her. His twisted mind. He truly seemed to take pride in somehow having taken her 'dark magic virginity.'

"Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance, Malfoy?"

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued by the question. "I could ask you the same thing. No one here to stop you."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. If someone else were standing in her shoes, they might do it. If any of the Order were here now, they might. But she couldn't. She knew that. For some reason Draco's face flickered into her mind. She hated remembering that he had a family. For the first time, she hated the deep well of empathy that lived in her.

"What made you choose it for me?" he asked, "I didn't use the Cruciatus on you."

"You would have."

"No," he grinned, "I had a few other things in mind..." Somehow with these words the look in his eyes changed. Hermione felt like prey, a mouse in an open field.

She raised her wand, suppressing a shudder, thinking how close she came to that version of reality. She almost wanted to ask, wanted to know what it would have been. What her end would have looked like. But he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

"I've always preferred the Imperius. There's nothing like watching someone do something they don't want to do. Enjoy something they don't want to enjoy..." a smirk tugged at his mouth. "Care to give that one a try? Our little secret. Your precious chosen one need never know."

If she were being honest with herself, it was truly a tempting thought. Hermione's mind began to race through all of the things she might be able to make him reveal, ways she could make him give up precious secrets of the other side - even ways she could make him hurt himself. But she'd never give him the satisfaction of doing what he wanted her to do.

"The power is intoxicating, isn't it?" he bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth. "Knowing that you could do - any - little - thing - to me. Right now. Feels good, doesn't it?"

It did. Being the one with the power felt so new and so good. Hermione couldn't bring herself to lower her wand, to do anything. She was ashamed - that look in Harry's eyes of shock and fear, and now the look of complete knowing in the cold grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. She wanted him to stop - she wanted to hex that look off of his face.

"So, mudblood...What would you like to do to me?"

Hermione stepped swiftly forward and shoved her wand below his jaw, forcing his head back. She was barely more than a foot from him now. She could feel the heat radiating off of his skin in the cold night. Their breath lingered like ghosts in the air. He looked calmly up at her, smiling, waiting - almost as if he were about to receive a present.

Suddenly Hermione pulled back her wand and slashed it across the inside of her fingers - "Parvas Diffindo." Blood rose to the surface, and she took two fingers and drew a long red streak roughly across his stubbled cheek. "Here is my filthy blood, Malfoy," she said through clenched teeth.

Touching him was thrilling in its danger. She couldn't help but envision petting a snake. He did not move. He did not break their eye contact.

She expected him to cringe, expected him to rage at her, curse her, struggle against his ropes to break free - but he stayed completely still. His eyes were gleaming with excitement, taking her in completely. He held his breath, waiting to see what she would do next.

Hermione began to streak a line down his other cheek. In an instant, he turned his head and took her fingers in his mouth, sucking them hard.

She gasped and pulled her hand back.

As he watched the bursts of red rise in her cheeks, his face lit up with pleasure. He licked her blood of off his lips, and savored her reaction with a hawk-like focus.

There was something new in his eyes, something that terrified her more than anything - he was looking at her with a kind of bestial hunger. What she had done had mixed his rage with a desire. Or maybe that was just the way the man worked. His fury fed lust.

No one had ever looked at her with such intense focus. Nausea crept over Hermione, as pinned under that gaze; an involuntary hot jolt shuddered through her abdomen.

And he saw it.

He saw her reaction and he knew what had happened - how her body had betrayed her.

Suddenly she felt like a foolish child, in too far over her head. What was she doing? She had let her anger get the best of her again. Gryffindor bravery and reckless emotion always led to risky decisions. She had wanted to disgust him, to teach him something, as absolutely mad as that seemed now. To make him feel...what? Shame? Why had she even come out of the tent to engage with him at all?

She hated him for making her feel this. For seeing it. What she desired was Ron. Just Ron. She wanted him to be back here, to apologize, to take her in his arms, to finally kiss her; gently and with love.

How could her body instead now react to the gaze of such a twisted, vile man?

Hermione realized she was still holding her hand close to her chest. The charged silence hung between them. She took a few steps back towards the door, when she heard a 'pop'.

Harry had reappeared in the tent. Oh thank Merlin. He made it.

"Hermione? Hermione!" The alarm in his voice was building with every second. He rushed out of the tent, and stopped when we saw her, momentarily relieved. But then he saw she was holding her bleeding hand, and looked to Malfoy behind her, still wearing her blood on his face.

Harry drew his wand immediately and pointed it directly at his chest.

"What happened? Did he hurt you?" she could hear the protective anger in his voice. "If you hurt her I swear I -" Harry jabbed his wand into Malfoy's chest.

"No, Harry - he didn't hurt me. Come on, let's go back inside."

Harry and Malfoy held each other's eyes for a long moment before Harry finally stepped back.

"I don't think there's any reason for him to be able to talk, do you Hermione?" said Harry darkly.

"I would just hex you, Malfoy, but I think the muggle way of doing things might suit you better." And with that he conjured a gag that wrapped itself tight around Malfoy's mouth. It was clearly uncomfortable, and if the look in Lucius' eyes were any indicator, he would have snapped Harry's neck given the chance.

Harry placed a protective shield around the tree, and with one last look at Malfoy, turned and walked back into the tent. Hermione followed without looking back.

"Muffliato," Harry muttered as he walked over to the bunk beds and sat down, clearly exhausted.

"Did you get it?" Hermione asked, eagerly.

Harry slowly reached his hand down his collar and drew out the chain and locket.

"It was back by Dolohov. In the snow next to his body."

"Good." Hermione said quietly. She should feel relief. But she felt further from Harry than she had in all the time she'd known him. A long silence passed. She didn't know whether to move to sit next to him or not. She didn't know what to say. He wouldn't look her in the eye.

"What happened with him, Hermione?" He finally looked up at her. A shade of McGonagall was in his expression. Authority. Disappointment. He looked suddenly much older.

"I don't know. I just -" Her words were failing her. Nothing seemed like a good excuse. No excuse could explain her behavior.

"He called me mudblood," she said finally, weakly.

Harry looked away from her, sighing. "Look - I know you miss Ron. I know these past few months have been harder for you. Just -" he shook his head, "I don't know, Hermione. I don't know what to say. Let's just get some sleep. We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

"Ok."

Harry crawled up to the top bunk, kicking off his shoes over the side.

Hermione extinguished the lantern light and crawled in below. She lay there staring at the ceiling of the bed, silently healing her fingers with her wand. When she was done, she raised her hands before her and stared at them. They looked different.