Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, JK Rowling/Bloomsbury Press do. The plot, however, is mine.

This has highly adult content, including rape, violence, and other assorted nastiness. Please don't read if you're easily triggered.

Hermione struggled to open her eyes, realizing that they were covered in dried blood, a result of the forehead cut that had rendered her unconscious. Obtaining a blurry understanding of her surroundings, she attempted to stand and recieved a nasty surprise. A metal strip held her bare torso to the stone wall, her head was arranged in such a way that she couldn't see it, but instead felt the icy steel against her skin. Her wrists were chained on either side of her head, the cuffs barely giving her room to move at all, and her legs were left nearly unbound, except for two razor sharp manacles, made of shining and beautiful silver, which freed rivulets of blood with every movement. Blinking her eyes several times to clear the corrosion, she again assessed her surroundings, and any hopes she'd had shriveled and died. The room was poorly lit, a single primitive chandelier illuminated the area from the center. Hermione could make out the shape of a door, towards one of the corners of the room, and several other sets of chains dangled from the surrounding walls. A chest stood against the far wall, a beautiful armoire carved ornately of ebony wood loomed ominously as she tried to dissuade herself from imagining the contents. She tried to remember, what had happened, who had brought her here, tied her up, stripped her, and knocked her out. One word came to mind.

"Malfoy." She said out loud. As if summoned by magic, the velvet voice of Draco Malfoy echoed around the room.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I would think that we'd be on slightly more personal terms by now, wouldn't you?" He teased, his playful words followed by a sadistic chuckle.

"Draco, something I will never understand is how you could just throw yourself away like that." Hermione began, attempting to mollify her captor, and prevent the inevitable.

"Now, now, Hermione!" Draco appeared in front of the shivering girl.

"You're not really going to try this, are you? Even a Mudblood cannot possibly be this asinine." He said, fixing his sharpest glare on her bloodied face.

"You've gone from 'Mudblood' to murder, Draco. You made the wrong choice! Sided with the wrong people. You were always a prat, but did you have to go this far to prove it?" She replied, daring to probe his anger with an acid tongue.

"Wrong side, Granger? As I see it, I am not the one in chains, bleeding, naked, with no one to speak of rushing to my aid. I've chosen the wrong side? Check your answer. This will be on the test." Draco strode over to the chest, running an ivory finger along the intricate carvings.

"Where is she?" Hermione asked meekly, as if resigned on her attempts to aid her captor.

"I take 'she' to mean the Weasley girl, Ginny. Correct?" Draco extracted a short dagger from the chest, testing the edge on the doors.

"Yes." She answered, abandoning all pretense of bravado. If ever she needed Draco to understand, to allow a glimmer of decency to penetrate his black aura, she needed it now.

"She's waiting." He answered simply.

"Waiting?" Fear grew in her stomach as she waited with bated breath for the answer.

"Waiting her turn."

Hermione's heart sank. It would never be enough, could never be enough. The war had taken everything from her, He had killed Harry. Harry Potter, the one constant among every variable of her life, Harry would always be, had always been there, and in one second, everything changed. In one violent instant, the tables turned, and the world steeped into eternal darkness. Not Ginny too, never, no.

"I'll do-"

"Anything?" Malfoy said with a laugh, closing the chest and fingering his blade. "You'll do anything? Anything to what, save her? Spare her?"

"Yes."

"Come on, Granger. You won't even make this pleasurable, will you?" He said, stepping serenely closer.

Hermione felt her skin begin to prickle in fear, or was it something else? She didn't know, she didn't care. He could obliterate all she had left, save for Ginny.

"Anything?"

"Yes."

"Scream for me." He whispered; his breath warm on her throat as the dagger traced its path around her bare stomach, leaving behind a swelling line of scarlet in its wake.

She drew in a sharp breath, but felt herself rendered unable to speak. Draco locked eyes with her, as if daring her to fulfill his request, as he continued weaving the blade along its macabre trail, traversing her abdomen, and moving farther.

"Cat got your tongue, Mudblood?" He said, teasing, his face mere centimeters from hers. Hermione's answer came in the form of a defiant glare, and was not at all what he'd hoped for.

"I said, 'Cat got your tongue?'" He said, looking her straight in the eyes as he locked his lips to hers, displaying force, power, and passion in one action, and showing her true who was in charge.

"Mudblood." Draco finished, sliding the dagger between his teeth and removing his black coat, casting it aside.

"You really have no concept of common sense, do you, Hermione?" He asked, speech muffled by the blade, yet still domineering and sadistic as ever.

His shirt fell to the floor, and Hermione closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lost in a memory. Nothing could bring her back, she was fading, Ginny's voice was in her head, her beautiful laugh, high like bells, pealing in childlike delight as they snuck away for a moment alone. She could recall it all, the first time, how it felt, how Ginny's breath mixed with hers, nearly forming one entity, and how the euphoria seemed to last forever. Ginny's whispers lingered in her ears, and Hermione drowned her present with reminiscence of the past.

Except for the pain.

The sharp sting drew her from her reverie, and Hermione's throat closed as she willed herself to cry out. Malfoy's clothes lay on the floor, and his breath echoed in her ears, hard and quick, following his own rhythm. Her blood covered his chest, and hers, as she focused on the blurring designs glowing in her flesh. Focused on anything but him, anything but what was happening, anything but Ginny. She felt herself leaving, the pain resonating in her mind, dissociating into a dream-state, as he finished and smiled, turning his head to her ear.

"Anything?"