She awoke with a start, as though someone had yelled into her ear. For a few blissful seconds, her mind was blank. Slowly, she began to recognize the dull ache that was present all over her body, accompanied by a growing sense of dread. Her heart began to beat a little faster and her breath quickened. The memories, though hazy at first, began to flash in her mind. It was overwhelming. She closed her eyes tightly, tried to shut it out, but suddenly she was there. She was outside. It was dark. The cool air stung her nose as she breathed it in.

"Bring her," said a cold voice. She shivered. Was it the air or the voice? She didn't know. All she knew was that she was being shoved forward. She stumbled and landed on her knees in the grass. She looked up. She followed feet, to legs, to torso, to face. Was it a face? She knew that face. She blinked, and gasped.

She was back in her room. On her bed. She shivered again. She opened her eyes and looked down at herself. Her fair skin was covered with scratches, scrapes and bruises. She groaned and was startled by the fact that she had been crying. She sniffled and tried again to block it out, but the memories pushed themselves forward.

She saw him staring down at her and she looked away quickly. Her mind was racing, how had she gotten here? She tried to remember before being interrupted by a sudden pain in her scalp. She was pulled to her feet by her hair.

"I used to have such high hopes for your family. But you've all disappointed me," he said, barely above a whisper. He released her hair and she stumbled back. "Your father was so loyal to me during the first war. But upon my perceived demise, he slithered to anyone he could find to renounce my name. "

She was aware of many people, all standing in a circle around her and the man. She chanced a quick glance to see that they were completely surrounded. He began to pace, seemingly addressing the group, instead of only her.

"Narcissa was never strong enough nor brave enough to join us, she simply let her husband handle it. And Draco, while eager to please his father and myself, is simply an idiot. A child. He showed his cowardice the night he failed to kill Dumbledore."

Scoffing sounded off around the circle in disapproval.

"And you!" He hissed as he advanced on her. She gasped and took several steps back, backing herself against something cold and stone-like. She looked up into his face, feeling the color drain out of her own as fear invaded her. He slapped her, the sound echoed in the crisp air. She yelped and shut her eyes tightly, bracing for another. "You are the worst of them all. You betrayed your blood and your family name. You are a disgrace to the name Malfoy. Your family will be punished severely for their transgressions. I can think of no higher embarrassment than to have you outed as a blood-traitor and there by assuring you will be unable to pass on your disgrace to the future generation." She felt his hand grab her face and she was forced to look at him. She was trembling, wondering what on Earth he could do to her that hadn't already been done. Banish her from her family home? Fine, she didn't want to live there anymore. Burn her name from the family tree? That was just fine, too. She didn't want to associate with their kind, nor did she want to marry into another pure-blood family, just because it was expected of her. Would she not inherit any family money? She could make her own money. What could he possibly do? As though he had read her thoughts, he responded.

"What could I do? Oh, dear Miss Malfoy. What could I not do? Oh yes, I can read your thoughts. You never were very good at Occlumency were you? No matter. I'll show you what I can do." He released her and she clung to the stone statue behind her. "Bow to me," he commanded.

For the first time, she was able to speak. "No," she whispered.

Voldemort scoffed and repeated his command, "I said bow."

She shook her head. "I will not. Kill me and get it over with. I will never submit to you." A second later she was on the ground, screaming in agony as the Cruciatus Curse tore through her and lit every nerve on fire. How long it lasted she didn't know, but when it was lifted she was weak. She laid on the ground, whimpering.

Voldemort laughed, "Kill you? That would be too easy. I'm not going to kill you. I'm not even going to fight you." She was being pulled up by her hair again. "I'm going to destroy you," he hissed into her ear.

She was shoved forward and fell to the ground again. She groaned and tried to stand, thinking she could run, but there was pressure on her back. He was holding her down, pressing her face into the ground. The smell of dirt and grass filled her nostrils.

Her eyes flew open. She was in her room again. She was shaking and there was a knot in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted a bath, but couldn't get her body to move. Breathing raggedly, she looked around her room, trying to focus on something other than the memories flashing forward again. "No..."

"No?" He laughed, a cold high pitched laugh. It seemed to drop the temperature of the air a few degrees. She tried to struggle, but she was still weak from the torture curse. Voldemort laughed again and she felt his body weight on top of her.

"Get off!" She groaned.

"I intend to."

She gasped and before she knew it, his ice cold hand had found its way between her legs. He grabbed her panties and ripped them off. She felt his hand wrap around her neck and felt him press against her opening. "Please..." was all she could manage before he plunged into her. She screamed and her whole body tensed up. Voldemort removed his hand from her throat and put it on the back of her head, pushing her face into the dirt. He groaned behind her and began to slam into her repeatedly. After a few minutes, it stopped. He withdrew and she laid there, breathing heavily as tears turned the dirt on her cheeks to mud.

"That was too easy... Pathetic." Voldemort's voice came from behind her. He sounded disappointed. "No matter. I have another idea. The Imperius Curse ought to make things interesting." She had just enough time to realize what was going to happen before there was nothing she could do. She was overcome with a feeling of weightlessness and her mind went peacefully blank.

Relax said Voldemort's voice in her mind. She obeyed. Her body relaxed and she was no longer aware of any pain, the grass on her skin or the crispness of the night air. Now be a good girl and tell your master that you're sorry for forgetting your manners.

"I'm sorry My Lord, for my lack of manners. I'm sorry for fighting you."

Good girl. Now lift that ass into the air. She did as she was told and lifted herself to her knees, while keeping her torso on the ground. "Yes, My Lord." She felt his hand between her legs and she moaned softly at his touch. Do you like that? Do you want more? The voice in her head cooed. "Yes, My Lord," she moaned. She felt him trace a finger down her slit until it found her clit. Her whole body twitched. "Mmmm, yes, My Lord. That feels good," she whimpered. He rubbed small circles around her clit, and she felt him slowly push a finger inside her. She moaned deeply. She wanted more. "Please, My Lord... please, give it to me. Please, give me your cock!"

She moaned deeply as she felt him push back into her, slowly. She heard laughter, but it sounded distant. It was unimportant. The most important thing to her now was following the commands of Voldemort's voice in her mind. She grabbed handfuls of the grass and continued to moan as he began pounding into her harder. She felt his hand move between her legs. He quickly found her clit and began to rub it in circles as he pounded her. She groaned loudly and was only vaguely aware that she was begging for more. Her sex was on fire, her core was lighting up. She felt him push into her one last time and spill his seed. She screamed. She was coming.

Her eyes flew open as her orgasm made her body convulse. She bit her lip and moaned deeply. After a moment she realized she was laying in her bed with her hand between her legs. A second later she rolled her head off the side of her bed and vomited. She felt a cold rush of shame and disgust roll over her. How could she have done that? How could she have made herself come thinking about what that monster had done to her? She began to cry again. Well, you did beg for it. Said a cool voice in her head.

But I didn't mean to... He had me under a spell!

Maybe, but weaker witches than you have fought off that spell successfully. If you'd really wanted to, you could have fought back.

No... I tried! I couldn't!

You didn't try hard enough. You clearly wanted it. It's your own fault. You're disgusting.

She whimpered and found the energy to sit up. Her body was still sore. She looked down at the mess she had made on the floor and grabbed her wand. "Scorgify", she mumbled. The sick vanished. She set her wand back on her side table and gingerly got to her feet. She walked across her room and stepped into her private bath. She was desperate not to revisit her memories so she kept fighting with the voice in her head. She ran a hot bath as she tried to reiterate that she had done all she could to fight back and wasn't at fault for what happened.

She grabbed her tooth brush and scrubbed her mouth to get the taste of sick to go away. After rinsing, she caught her reflection in her mirror and stared at it. Her long, white blonde hair was disheveled. She reached up and picked out a couple of leaves. Her face was puffy from crying, her cheeks were stained with dirt and tears. Her bottom lip was swollen and caked with dry blood. She touched it gingerly, it was painful. She looked into her reflection's eyes and blinked slowly.

The voice in her head laughed. Just a busted lip? See, if you'd tried harder to fight, you'd be more bruised up. You'd be able to show the world that you fought. No one would believe you survived an attack looking like that. It was clearly just rough sex. You must have liked it.

She shook her head and turned away from her mirror. She shut the water off and slowly and gingerly got into her tub. She sunk up to her chin and sighed heavily. She leaned her head back as she focused on the sensation of the water on her skin. It was hot, she was covered with goosebumps. She hoped the hot water would wash away the cold shame she still felt from touching herself. She was nauseous again. She shut her eyes and began to wash herself. She scrubbed the blood and dirt from her face until it was raw. She shampooed her hair until her fingers were numb from scrubbing. She found that the sensation of scrubbing kept her mind from going back to that place.

After several minutes of scrubbing, she laid back and choked back a couple of sobs. Maybe this was all her fault. If she hadn't betrayed her family name, none of this would have happened. If she had been sorted into Slytherin, if she had agreed to make a pure-blood marriage, if she had volunteered to serve Voldemort... She shuddered. Just the thought of being one of them made her head spin. There was no way she could be like that, like them. She grew angry with herself for even letting those thoughts form. She laid in the tub, soaking for a long time. Eventually she closed her eyes and drifted...

She was breathing heavily and only vaguely aware that he had pulled out of her. She heard a laugh and in the blink of an eye, it all came rushing back. The pain, the shame, the crispness of the air. The Imperious Curse had been lifted and she went completely limp on the ground. She was painfully aware of the grass poking her skin. She whimpered, "No..." as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. She brought her legs to her chest as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. But her thoughts were interrupted.

She felt movement around her and suddenly many hands were grabbing her. She was being rolled onto her back and the rest of her clothes were being torn from her body. "NO!" She screamed. "LET GO! PLEASE!" Laughter echoed around her. The Death Eaters. Voldemort must have told them they could have her now. She was so weak she could barely resist. Soon her hands were pinned above her head and she could see a Death Eater positioning himself between her legs. He pushed and she screamed. He laughed and grabbed her hips as he began to push into her, hard and fast. Tears were still streaming down her face as she protested. "Please! Make it stop! Let me go, please! You're hurting me!" She groaned and felt hands all over her. Squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, pulling her hair, rubbing her clit. Her head was spinning.

The Death Eater laughed and continued to push into her. "Oh my God, you're so wet," he grunted. "So tight, you're going to make me come!"

"No! Please! Don't! Don't come inside, please!"

"Too late!" He growled, slamming into her one final time as he filled her. He rested a moment, then pulled out of her and stepped away.

She whimpered but before she could collect her thoughts she was being entered again. She let out a low, deep, "No!" But he ignored her and pounded into her just as hard as the man before him. She felt his weight on top of her as he leaned down and grabbed her ass for support. She felt his hot breath on her neck as he grunted into her ear. "So good, so good, so good," he repeated over and over again. He shuddered and emptied into her. She choked back a sob, realizing there was nothing she could do.

As soon as he withdrew, there was another, pounding just as hard as before. She was numb now. He didn't last quite as long and never spoke. When he was finished, there was another. He had more girth than the others and the shock from him slowly pushing into her brought her back to her senses. She groaned in protest, he must have mistook it for pleasure.

He moaned. "You like that one, do ya? You like that big cock stretching you out nice and slow? You got such a nice little pussy for me, it's so wet."

She whimpered, "No, no, no, no..." She clenched her teeth against the pain.

"Oh yeah, baby, squeeze your pussy on my cock, it's so good. You dirty little slut, you love being fucked by all these different men, don't ya?"

She groaned again and suddenly felt a hand slip between her ass cheeks. A finger was pressing on her hole. She whimpered. "No, please... not there... don't..."

He laughed and pushed himself all the way in while forcing his middle finger into her ass.

She yelped and her whole body tensed up. "No! Take it out, please! It... it...!" was all she could say before a familiar warmth began to grow in her core. She whimpered and tried to fight it off, but it was happening quickly. The combination of all the different stimuli had her body reacting.

"Oh, ho, ho! She's getting close!" Laughed a voice behind her. She felt the hands on her nipples tighten and the hand on her clit move harder and faster. The finger in her ass remained still as the cock in her pussy began to make short, quick thrusts. She whimpered again and let out a loud cry as her climax exploded. The cock began making full, hard thrusts into her as her pussy contracted forcefully.

She was coming. She bucked her hips against one hand and squeezed her breast with the other. She moaned deeply and rode her orgasm to completion. She went limp in her bath and with ragged breath, realized what she had done. He eyes flew open. She heaved over the side of the tub and vomited again. She sunk back into the bath and shuddered. The water was cold now. After a few moments, she drained the tub and stepped out, careful to avoid the splatter of vomit on her bathroom floor. She was in complete auto-pilot mode. She dried off, brushed her teeth and brushed her hair. She ignored her reflection.

She got her wand from her side table and cleaned up her mess in the bathroom. After putting her wand back on the table, she threw on a nightgown and sat on the edge of her bed. She stared off into space and the voice sounded quietly in her head.

See, I told you that you liked it. You weren't under the Imperious Curse that time and you still came. And then you made yourself come while reliving it. Slut.

Maybe you're right...

Jamie Malfoy buried her face into her pillow as her hand made its way between her legs again.