This is something I'd written LONG ago, and decided it should have its place here. Warnings are abuse, self-harm, and AU. Ron bashing, as well. Set in 6th year, after the Final Battle, which took place after the MOM fiasco in Order of the Phoenix. Yep, AU is the way to go, lol.

Disclaimer: Not mine now, not mine ever. I own only the plot. I repeat that this fic will have a slightly darker edge to it in certain spots, and you have been warned.

Hermione wasn't a hot girl. Not in the conventional way, at least. Now Pavarti Patil, there was a hot girl. Glossy black hair, mysterious and sultry eyes, olive skin that loved to be shown off by a tight belly shirt or mini skirt.

Then there was Lavender Brown, the walking pair of tits. Draco bet that Lavender had the biggest, bounciest tits of any girl in their year. And while she was brutally annoying and needy, Pansy had the most voluptuous bum Draco had ever had the pleasure of spanking.

Even Susan Bones, the idiot girl with braids from Hufflepuff, had a decent pair of legs, and though Draco would rather have curtsied to Potter before admitting it, he had, more than once, pictured those long legs wrapped around him while he fucked the pussy they happened to be attached to.

So why was the plainest looking girl in the entire year occupying his thoughts? It wasn't her breasts, like with Lavender. While Lavender could have easily filled out a D cup, Draco was guessing Hermione was probably more a light B cup. It wasn't her hair, as it was with Pavarti. Hermione's slightly dull brown color and flyaway curls did little to his imagination, though he seemed to recall that it did look rather decent at the Yule Ball three years ago. She didn't even have the legs of Susan. Hermione was, he guessed, at least a foot shorter than him, and even if she had been a bit taller, she always kept her legs modestly covered with calf-length skirts or loose fitting jeans.

So why, why, was he sitting here in Ancient Runes, his eyes glued to her profile, unblinking, while she idly took pages upon pages of notes, her brow creased in concentration, her posture erect and rapt with attention?

Perhaps the stress of the Final Battle had finally caught up with him. Dumbledore had warned him of it. After all, one did not simply murder one's parents without somemental repercussions, likewise turning double agent working tirelessly for the Order and for Voldemort.

Yes, that was it. Mental anguish, is what it boiled down to. Somehow, though, Draco did not feel settled with this cock-and-bull excuse. There was something about her, something about Granger that he couldn't put his finger on.

She was driving him mad, and he was rapidly becoming obsessed with her. Before long he knew that she liked black coffee with her breakfast, that she had the same chicken soup for lunch everyday, that she stole away for a personal walk whenever Potter and the Weasel had Quidditch practice.

What he didn't know is why she sobbed into her sleeve between Charms and Arithmancy, why there were white scars scattered among what looked to be long scratches on her arms that he noticed in Herbology one day, and, perhaps most unnerving of all, why she never looked at him.

It was quite obvious when somebody was staring at you as avidly as Draco had been staring at Hermione, and she hadn't said a thing to him, or even acknoweldged that he existed. Never before had a girl so blatantly ignored him. It was quite well-known that Draco had been around the block a few times, and usually had a different girl in his bed when he had the night free. To be a notch on his bedpost was an honor the majority of the female population at Hogwarts dreamed about, but making those dreams come true had been put on hold when Draco became hypnotized by Hermione.

He had never gone without sex for so long, but that wasn't the shocking thing. What surprised him, and many of his dormmates, was that Draco didn't need sex. As long as Hermione was in his every thought, his sexual cravings seemed to have vanished. Of course there was the occasional wank every now and then, he was still human, after all.

But he needed more. More than the routine jack-off, more than watching her from across the Great Hall or during lessons. He had come the realization that he was obsessed with a girl who was alone. She cut her arms to fill a void, she walked along the same abandoned path every Thursday, she kept to her books and essays, she didn't bother to put on make-up or wear perfume.

He had come the realization that he and Hermione were more alike than any one could have guessed. Orphans, as both their parents were dead. Top of their House, but that only isolated them further from their schoolmates. He had come to the realization that he, from afar, had fallen in love with her. She was intelligent, clever, capable. She wasn't thin by any means, her curves were soft, her face full, the prominence of her collar and hip bones delicate. She had become the most beautiful girl to him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Draco should have known that sooner or later, willingly or not, Hermione would have cornered him. What he did not expect was for her to be so brash, to use such language and be so bold.

"Pardon?" Draco said, drinking in her appearance. It was a weekend, and so she had donned muggle clothes, like most of the school had. She was wearing a blue hoodie and levis. Modest and comfortable, just like every other piece of clothing she owned. Somehow, she made it work, and Draco couldn't have been more attracted to her if she had been wearing a string bikini and heels.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I said 'what the fuck is your probelm'. Meaning, what the hell is with wrong with you?" Before Draco had a chance to reply, Hermione had grabbed him firmly around the forearm, and was dragging him off into an empty classroom outside the Great Hall. "You've been watching me like a hawk for two and half months now, Draco. Why? Am I the new subject for one of your twisted experiments?"

Draco chuckled. So she had noticed his surveillance, and now she was fed up with it. "There's no experiment, I promise you."

"Then why the sudden interest in me? We were allies in the Battle Draco, and that was where our friendship, if you can even call it that, ended. The war was over, we won, and you went back to your swanky, martini bachelor lifestyle."

So she was bitter. Yes, it was true that they had fought side by side at the Battle, that he had, countless times, shoved her from harm's way, just as she had done to him. They had even had a bit of civilized conversation back at the headquarters of the Order a few times, laughed before meetings, and when he couldn't bear to be at his empty manor, she would stay up with him in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, talking with him past the empty coffee pot and cookie tin.

Is that what he had shared with her? A friendship? Is this why he couldn't think of another woman, why Hermione meant so much to him? He had been her friend, and she his. That was the deepest bond he had ever had with a girl, the only relationship outside of casual fucking that he had shared with somebody who wasn't a guy.

And she was disappointed! Hermione Granger, sad that their friendship hadn't continued on at Hogwarts, perhaps hadn't developed into something more!

"Is that why you cut? Because you miss me?" Draco blurted.

Hermione's eyes became piercing, and she glowered slightly at him. "You even know about that? God, did you have your lapdogs doing detective work for you or something? For fuck's sake, Draco, tell me what is going on here. I deserve to be treated like a big girl."

But Draco wasn't ready to tell her the truth. He needed more time. How could he explain something to her that he had only just figured out himself? He had to buy some more time, but he wanted that time to be with Hermione. "Look, why don't we go out to Hogsmeade today? I'd love to buy you some coffee or lunch or something."

Hermione sighed, her brown eyes staring up into him. "I can't." She whispered, turning around and hurrying away from him, out the front doors of the castle and down a dirt path. She prayed that Ron and Harry were still at Quidditch practice. If Ron had seen her talking to another guy...she didn't want to think about what would happen, especially since that guy happened to be Draco.

True, Draco did work for the Order, but that didn't stop Ron from carrying on hatred from all the years Draco had tormented him. And he loved to take that anger out on Hermione.

She had noticed Draco's attention towards her the day in Ancient Runes when he was studying her profile. It was like he was searching for some deep, Cosmic secret in her face. Since then, he had not stopped staring at her, following her when she was alone. She did have to hand it to him, though; nobody else had, thankfully, caught on to him.

And by nobody else she meant Ron. Ron was the most jealous, insecure man she had ever known, and if a boy merely glanced at Hermione, even if it was in passing, the consequences were dire. The fact that Hermione wasn't officially his girlfriend didn't bother him in the slightest. Ron believed he didn't have to make his territory known. If Hermione wasn't a slut, she wouldn't have male attention on her. If guys started asking her out or talking to her more often, she was clearly a whore, and as his property, it was his responsibility to punish her for it.

He hadn't touched her in days, though, being quite busy with Quidditch and Prefect duties. The bruises were still there, however, still tender. Her biceps were still purple, outlined in perfect replicas of Ron's fingers, how hard he had grabbed her apparent. Her back too was the same grisly color, evidence that being thrust into a brick wall did not leave one free of marks.

What she was really hoping was that Draco would have noticed this. Noticed that Ron was beating her, that it had been going on for almost a whole year now. That was the reason she cut. She was still Hermione Granger, top student of her year, Gryffindor Prefect, and still had somedignity left. Ron was going to hurt her, that was a given, but if she hurt herself, there was a choice in the matter. Pain was pain, yes, but chosen pain allowed her pride, even if it was only a smidgen.

Before she knew what was happening, Hermione was shoved forecfully to the ground. "So, the little slut has taken to the Malfoy pig?" Ron's voice, full of anger, sounded behind her. Hermione quickly rolled over onto her back and attempted to stand up, but Ron shoved his foot into her stomach, pushing her back down. "How long have you been sleeping with him, Hermione?" He said, as calmly as if he had been asking her about the weather.

"I'm not Ron, I swear!" Hermione cried, scooting backwards, out of reach of his legs. She stood up, only to have him grab her by her hair, yanking it downwards. She yelped in pain, but Ron acted as though he could not hear her. "I'm going to ask you again, you fucking whore, how long have you been fucking Malfoy!"

Though she had stooped to many levels of degradation at Ron's behalf, Hermione was not a liar. "Never, I'm not!" She cried again. Still holding her hair, Ron backhanded Hermione's right cheek with his free hand as hard as he could, before shoving her once more to the ground. "You're lucky I believe you...He wouldn't want you, you stupid cunt. No one would, no one else but me." Ron cracked his knuckles threateningly before walking away from her, leaving her alone in the dirt.

Help me, Draco, Hermione thought, as she steadied herself on her walk back up to the castle. Her right hip was aching, as it had absorbed most of her second impact to the ground. She walked with a slight limp, afraid that he might have fractured it. Well, she thought grimly, it wouldn't be the first time.

But it had been the first time he had hit her across the face. He was so careful to never leave a trace of his abuse, always hurting her in places on her body that could be easily covered by clothing. She knew in a few hours her face would be swollen, and, just like her arms, back, and now her hip and legs, would bear a large and painful bruise.

She was sure Ron would have an excuse for her...he never did let her cover her marks with magic, as he felt she needed a constant reminder that in any other man's hands, she would be dead. She was lucky, he always said, that he treated her as well as he did. No other man would want her, would even consider her.

"Hermione!" A deep voice Hermione recognized to be Draco's was calling to her across the courtyard. Knowing Ron would be locked in the Prefects' bathroom taking a shower by now, or at least she prayed he would be, Hermione turned towards Draco's voice. He ran up next to her, slowing to a stop. "Whoa, are you alright? You look like you've just been thrown in the dirt."

Hermione managed to fake a small smile. "Bet you didn't happen to notice that I'm dead clumsy, during all that observing." She said, biting her lip to keep from moaning in pain as she continued towards the castle. Her hip was throbbing now. She would definitely need to ice it, before it got so swollen that it was noticeable.

"Well, since you can't seem to find the time to go into Hogsmeade with me, I was thinking we could do something else, you know, perhaps share dinner together this evening? I know it's not the best backdrop for a date or anything, but I'm sure we could have a good time, maybe we can go to the Room of Requirement, see if it can help us out with the setting."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Here was Draco Malfoy, trying repeatedly to ask her out, to spend time with her. He wasn't like he used to be...the War had really changed him, he was good, and caring. He would never hurt her...she knew that. She could sense it in his entire demeanor towards her. He was gentle, and he would never hit her or make her hurt herself. And it was tearing her heart into a thousand tiny pieces that she couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

"I'm sorry Draco, but I can't. I've got too much schoolwork, you know how it is."

"Well, maybe we can do that instead, we could meet in the library, make it a study date."

Hermione smiled, in spite of the pain and misery she was feeling. Maybe a beating from Ron would be worth spending time with Draco. "Tell you what. Since we've got to patrol tomorrow night, if you can make it so Ron gets assigned with somebody else, we can do our duties together. That's the best I can offer you." Ron's punishment wouldn't be too bad if he knew that Hermione wasn't at fault...it was Filch, after all, that assigned Prefect partners, and if Hermione spent the following day complaining about how absolutely horrid Draco was, he might let her off with only punch in the stomach or a small burn on her thigh from his muggle lighter.

Draco grinned. "Hey I'm up for anything." He gripped her upper arm, causing her to wince and cry out in pain. "Sorry!" He cried. He thought be had been soft, a warm touch.

"No, no, it's not you, you didn't hurt me...you'd never hurt me. I just...well, you know how it is sometimes. Anyway, see you later, Draco." Hermione said, and she turned from him and limped towards the castle.

---

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew something was up with Hermione, something she wasn't letting on to anybody. Shouldn't he have spotted it, though? He had been watching and watching her for weeks. She did the same things everyday, she always had a routine. He knew where she was and what she was doing at all times.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Each Herbology and Potions lessons, when her uniform sleeves were pulled up, he noticed new cuts and scratches, but was always unable to decide when she was doing it. He had decided that the only time she wasn't under his surveillance was at night, and so that must be when she was hurting herself.

But this was giving him a different feeling. She may have been clumsy, as she said, but there something in her voice he just wasn't buying. Well, he thought to himself, he'd just have to see what came of their little outing tomorrow evening during patrol. They used to talk about their secrets, perhaps he could get her to open up again, as he had before.

But he didn't have to wait that long. The next morning at breakfast, as Draco took his favorite seat at the end of the Slytherin table, he saw something that nearly knocked the wind out of him. The right side of Hermione's face was a deep purple, mixed with navy blue splotches. She looked as though she had been punched, knocked to the ground and beat up.

He noticed that Potter was trying to see what had caused it, and Hermione was brushing him off, smiling that fake smile she had and assuring him she was fine, she had been talking to Lavender last night and had accidentally walked into the wall in their dormitory. It was then the Draco noticed Weasel's face. He was smiling. Smiling! One of his best friends looked like she had been mugged and he was sitting there, smiling like the fucking twit he was, like he had just won king of the fucking world.

So that was it...it was a triumphant smile. Clearly he was pleased with something. Draco's eyes flickered from Ron to Hermione, and if that fucking pussy was proud for the reason Draco was beginning to suspect, he was going to rip the little bastard limb from limb.

He stood from the table and marched across the hall, walking up behind Ron, unseen. He grabbed the boy around the collar of his shirt and pulled him from the bench, turning him around.

"What the bloody-"

"I suggest you shut the fuck up and listen. If I find out that you did this, I swear to Merlin I will kill you with my bare hands." With that Draco let go of Ron, and turned to Hermione, his eyes soft. "I'll see you in class, okay?"

Hermione's eyes were still wide with shock, but she nodded. So Draco had finally put two and two together. As Ron took his seat, cursing, Harry stood up. "Hermione, can I talk to you please?"

Hermione looked to Ron, who was staring daggers at her. She nodded, and followed Harry to the Entrance Hall. "What was that all about? Hermione, please tell me that Ron isn't the one who did this to you."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, it's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

Harry snorted. "I understand that you're hurt! Your face is beat to hell, and you can barely walk! You're one of my best friends, Hermione, and if this has been-"

"I think that's enough, Harry." Ron had come out behind them, and he grabbed Hermione's hand. "Nothing is going on, Hermione's fine. In fact, I think I'll walk her to class right now."

Harry stood by, watching his two best friends walk away.

---

"I shouldn't have believed you...you're such a fucking little skank, why did I even think I could believe you? You can never trust a little bitch like you, a worthless piece of shit, that's what you are..." Ron whispered these things into Hermione's ear as they made their way down the corridor to her Arithmancy class.

The corridor was deserted, and Hermione was afraid. For the first time, she was truly afraid for her life. She knew, before, that Ron's intent was never to kill her, or even seriously injure her. Bruises and burns, small fractures and tumbles down the stairs were his style. But now, with nobody in sight and the majority of the classrooms on this floor empty, she felt sure she wouldn't be living to go to class.

But, on the bright side, the abuse would stop. She wouldn't have to feel anymore, feel the pain, the dishonor, the humiliation. But what about Draco? Draco...her sweet, guardian angel. He would save her...yes, he would protect her. He had said it himself, he would kill Ron if he hurt her. Kicking open a door to their right with his foot, Ron shoved Hermione inside. He waved his wand behind him, and the door slammed shut, locking with a click. "Now, you pay for the damage you have done. We were so close to being found out...that must never happen again."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "No, never...I didn't, Ron, I swear, I would never!" Hermione backed against the wall, cowering as Ron advanced on her. The first blow wasn't so bad, only a hard slap across her already bruised cheek, and Hermione took a deep breath at the wave of pain that hit her as his hand struck the tender tissues. Ron grabbed her arm, yanking her towards him.

"Shit!" Hermione shrieked, as she felt her shoulder being ripped from its socket.

"Shut the fuck up!" Ron screamed, and he pushed her to the floor, climbing on top of her. With both hands he grabbed her head, slamming it against the stone floor.

"Ron! Stop, you're going to kill me!" Hermione cried at the top of her lungs, trying with all of her strength to push him off of her.

"I told you," Ron seethed, now standing up, pulling Hermione with him. Hermione was vaguely aware that there was blood running from the back of her head down her neck. "To shut up!" He shoved her into the wall, where she crumpled over, still sobbing loudly. Ron wrapped his right hand around her aching neck. "If you won't shut up," he said, "I'll have to do it for you." He began to squeeze, and slowly Hermione's sobs were quieted, as the consciousness left her body.