Draco seethed, his hands curled into whiteknuckled fists by his sides, his robes billowing out in the darkening hallway, creating a dramatically evil effect that had first and second years jumping back in terror. Prefects yelled at him to slow down; one small Hufflepuff tripped over his own robe landing him right in Malfoy's path, and was summarily thrown into the wall.

Draco didn't care what was going on. As far as he was concerned, no one existed except the object of his rage: a frizzy-haired seventh year Gryffindor who had finally, after seven years of trading insults and dangerous encounters that nearly got them expelled, destroyed his patience. "I'll kill her," he growled, eyes flashing with a menacing light. "That stupid little Mudblood bitch is going to fucking get it."

She had humiliated him in class, ruined his image in front of all the awe-struck Slytherins and made him the brunt of Gryffindor laughter. He could still see her cool, smug smile as she gazed at him from across the room. She hadn't even had the courtesy to be frightened of him, when he shot daggars at her with his eyes. Draco felt the rage boil at how little attention she had paid to his direct threat. "I wouldn't walk anywhere alone anytime soon, Granger," he had growled as he passed, cheeks burning, to escape from the humiliation. He noted with some satisfaction that her warm skin paled slightly at the concept of what he intended, but with friends around to protect her and rally behind her, Hermione had quickly pulled herself together and remarked, "I'm not afraid of you, Malfoy. There's nothing you can do to me." He wanted to show her how wrong she was - he was a Malfoy.

And Malfoys always got their revenge.

Hermione waved a laughing goodbye to Harry and Ron as they went off to Quidditch practice. "It's a good thing Ron finally made the team," she thought happily. "It gives him so much confidence to be a Gryffindor beater," Seventh year was turning out to be a wonderful year, with little to complain about. Hermione was Head Girl, as expected, and she was finding the responsibilities and challenges more of a treat than a trial. She loved the way teachers treated her as though she were already an accomplished adult witch.

The only problem had been the constant reminders that Voldemort intended to choose an heir. Rumor had it that the wizard was dying; he needed some new, young evil to take over where he left off. Hermione herself didn't believe the rumors - Voldemort had been a constant presence for Harry, Ron and herself ever since first year and she could hardly picture him being gone forever. What was particularly obnoxious was that Draco Malfoy, her long-time nemesis, had taken it into his head that HE was the Voldemort heir, and proceeded to treat everyone accordingly.

Thinking of Draco brought a guilty flush to Hermione's face as she remembered how she had humiliated him with the temporary love potion, making him a gooey, lovesick idiot in front of the entire potions class. After pleading for Hermione's hand in marriage and begging her to "grace his unworthy lips the honor of kissing her hand," Draco had performed several love sonnets and composed a song on the spot before the potion had worn off. Even Snape had been amused.

"Five points from Gryffindor for abusing magic," he said. Then turned again, his mouth twitching in the remnants of a smile. "Ten points to Gryffindor for stepping out of character and acting...Slytherin. Very interesting, Ms. Granger."

The more Hermione thought about it, she knew Snape was right. It had been a very Slytherin thing to do, and she was sort of embarassed at that fact. There was also the problem of Draco's threat. Although she knew rationally there was nothing he could do to her (too many teachers around), the possibility that he might be mad enough to simply not care about the repercussions was a little unnerving.

"Stop thinking about it," she scolded herself, heading towards the library, her usual evening hideaway. There was no point in worrying; she had enough to worry about what with the upcoming NEWTS, of which she was taking 14. This fact appalled Ron, for he was distressed over the 6 he had to take.

"FOURTEEN?" Ron had yelled. "There aren't even that many COURSES, Hermione!" Harry had thought it incredibly amusing, and was actually relieved at all the attention Hermione was getting because of her brilliance.

"It's nice to go through a year without having to save the world, don't you think?" he teased, an affectionate smile on his face. "Now maybe people will leave me alone and hound you, the Girl Who Aced Every Test." Hermione liked to think she was more dynamic than that, but let it go.

The library seemed further away than usual. Hermione yawned, checking her bag to see if she had the appropriate books. Advanced Arithmancy, Potions, and Muggle Studies were all present and accounted for. Hermione shifted her bag onto her shoulder again and hardly had time to emit a small gasp when a large hand clamped down on her mouth, a strong arm wrapping around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. Hermione struggled against the strength of the person behind her, trying to scream but only managing small, muffled noises. Her bag was on the ground, and Hermione could see her wand sticking out of it.

"Grab the bag," a harsh whisper sounded behind her. A dizzying recognition caught her and Hermione felt a rush of anger. She started mmphing swearwords, cursing the boy to every god she could think of. "Yeah, you know it's us, big deal," Goyle scoffed. Crabbe came into view, holding her bag and a length of rope. Goyle grabbed a piece of tape from him and slapped it over her mouth. "Draco's in a real bad mood; we thought we'd give him a little something to cheer him up."

At mention of Draco's name, Hermione felt her stomach tense. She forced herself to relax, making Goyle think she'd given up. "That's a good Gryffindor," he laughed stupidly, releasing his grip a little to tie her hands in a knot behind her. The task proved difficult and he let go of her waist a moment. Hermione immediately lashed out, kicking Goyle in the groin and dealt a fast blow to an astonished Crabbe. Without hesitating an instant, Hermione pounded down the hall, praying that some other student would come along. She hadn't made it twenty feet before someone turned a corner and she slammed into a hard chest, falling backward to the ground. Dazed, Hermione felt relief flood her until she looked up at the person she had run into.

Draco Malfoy stared down at her, a little shocked. He looked her over, his eyes filling with a frighteningly pleased expression, and Hermione realized her arms were still tied behind her, the tape still blocking her speech.

Eyes widening, Hermione moved to jump back up to her feet but was brought down hard under the weight of Draco's boot, just below her neck. "I don't think so, Granger," he said darkly. He looked down the hall to see Crabbe staggering closer, Hermione's bag in his arms. Goyle was still on the ground, and didn't look like he'd be getting up anytime soon. Draco chuckled. "Oh, I see. Those idiots do have good ideas once in awhile." His heel dug into her chest as he smiled vaguely off at his goons, his expression frighteningly grim.

Hermione swallowed hard, feeling slightly nauseous suddenly. Whatever confidence she'd had in Malfoy's ability to control himself was gone. She suddenly knew, without a doubt, that he was capable of anything she could imagine. A whimper escaped her through the tape and Draco's attention was riveted back on the girl beneath his boot.

"Scared, Granger?" he asked silkily, and Hermione had the sensation of nails scratching on a blackboard. His expression darkened. "You should be." By that time Crabbe was in the vicinity, pissed as hell.

"The little bitch attacked us out of nowhere. She was acting all helpless and scared one second, and then the next second she bloody attacked us!" he yelled. Despite herself, Hermione was impressed. It was the biggest speech she'd ever heard come out of Crabbe's mouth. Draco obviously didn't care one way or the other.

"Bring her," he said sharply, removing his foot from her torso. "Goyle can fend for himself." Crabbe nodded, pleased with his assignment. Hermione jerked in pain as he viciously threw her over his shoulder, digging his nails into her thigh.

"That's for punching me," Crabbe said. Then his hand took a decidedly personal direction, travelling up her thigh between her flailing legs. Hermione froze and gasped against the tape, loudly enough for Draco to turn.

"What?" he asked irritably. Hermione heard him laugh behind her and tried not to shudder. "Now, Crabbe, is that any way to treat a Mudblood Gryffindor?" She could feel Crabbe grinning at his friend.

"Oh jeez, Draco. You're right," he said. Suddenly, he brought his hand down hard on her butt and squeezed. She let out a yelp and struggled against the strong boy. Her reaction seemed to please the Slytherins.

"Much better," Draco said.

Hermione had been more pissed off than scared before Crabbe groped her, but now she could feel tendrils of fear curling in her stomach. She had always considered herself equal to Harry and Ron when it came to fighting off bad guys, and she was certainly the best with a wand. Harry's talents lay primarily in his undiscovered power; Ron's in his fists. But now that she was without a wand and tied up, being carted away somewhere by the equally powerful Draco Malfoy, who had his wand and his goons, Hermione knew she was in trouble. It had just never occurred to her that the Slytherins would think of her as a sexual entity. She certainly never had, and it scared her more than she could think about.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Draco strutted the short distance to the Slytherin House, feeling nearly elated with pleasure. The source of his anger and irritation was tied up and wandless, and in his possession. He felt himself grinning as he remembered her wide-eyed expression when she looked up and saw him standing above her. Being shocked himself, he hadn't been able to appreciate it at the time. But now, given the chance to think, he realized that she had been afraid of what he was going to do to her.

Which reminded him of all the things he had been thinking of doing to her. His pleasure mingled with the rage he had been carrying all day. Now he would get the opportunity to hurt her, to frighten her. There was a certain...something that filled his lungs at the prospect of having Hermione Granger so helpless in his power. Draco had always known that power was the ultimate aphrodisiac - was that it? Just then he heard a frightened gasp through a layer of tape and turned.

"What?" he barked, annoyed that Granger would still be protesting her situation. He saw with a jolt that Crabbe had his hand up Hermione's robes, baring most of her legs and parting them. Draco felt a wave of heat nearly overwhelm him at the sight. Stop it, he told himself. "Now, Crabbe," he remarked, "Is that any way to treat a Mudblood Gryffindor?" He had meant it as a joke, to point out that Granger was a Mudblood, and not worthy of male attention, but Crabbe took it the wrong way.

"Oh jeez, Draco, you're right," he said, and proceeded to grab Hermione's butt. Draco was stricken with the absurdity of it all, but found himself even more turned on by the squeal that came out of Granger. She twisted against Crabbe's big, ugly hand, but couldn't move.

"Much better," Draco said, in the most evil tone he could manage. When he turned around, the image of Granger as a sex object stuck with him. He had never thought of her as a female before, not even when she returned to Hogwarts with a body that on a pureblood he would consider...hot.

Draco smirked. Hermione had been shaken pretty bad by Crabbe's groping; obviously he wasn't the only one who had just figured out that the fact that she was female put her in a frightening position.

And Draco knew exactly how to get his revenge.