**Strong sexual content in this chapter

Chapter Four
Just What She Needed

Reminisce: Late summer of 1995 - Dementor Intrusion

"It's just too hot today. Temperatures are up into the mid-nineties, and are possibly headed into the hundreds by tomorrow."

Antonia observed a mother calling after her young son from the playset while she herself sat alone on a free swing that day in early August. She had just recently turned fifteen. Nowadays, she preferred spending time with just herself. She was lost in a state of perpetual sadness at the murder of Cedric. She had never been too close to him, though they had developed a bond of sorts during her fourth year while reluctantly taking part in the Triwizard tasks.

Solitude eased her paranoia and allowed her to sort things out for herself. This was what she needed. She just needed to think. To consider circumstances on her own, surrounded by nothing more than each swing to her side, the gravel below her dragging feet and the delightfully soothing sound of birds singing out in the distance.

She did not want to see her cousin Dudley.

"Beat up another child, lard-arse?" Antonia mocked upon hearing laughter emanate from a short distance before her.

Her large and dim-witted cousin retorted with, "This one deserved it."

She scoffed harshly. "Five to one? That sound fair to you?" she challenged.

Keeping his blank, stupid face, he protested, "Least I'm not moaning in my sleep every night. Least I'm not afraid of my pillow."

Immature guffaws ensued at his poor remark. Antonia remained unfazed by his idiocy. She shrugged and drew her stare downcast to a more welcoming view of the dirt ground supporting her flat-shoed size eight feet.

"OH! Don't kill Cedric! Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?"

"Cram it."

"She's going to kill me, mum! Where is your mum, Potter?"

Antonia refused to look up at him. She fought to ignore her clenched fists resting shakily at her sides, ready to punch away at that fat, ruddy face of his.

"She dead?"

The giggles increased in volume.

"IS SHE DEAD?"

It was particularly the way he laughed out loud while mockingly roaring that last cruelly rhetorical inquiry that got the feisty young redheaded girl up to her feet and in his face in seconds, her wand pressed firmly and threateningly to his double chin.

"Say it again, you lethargic, obese, bastard hog!"

He shoved her roughly to the gravel. Her skirt had risen above her waist following the stumble, revealing her light pink undies to the five adolescent boys to see lucidly. She had dropped her wand during the fall, and was now livid with pure loathe for the group of illiterate dummies. Her face went tomato-red at the realization of her undergarments being on well-display. She went even more burgundy at the comment that one of the blond moron's had to give right then.

"Ya should fuck 'er, Duds. Teach the little bitch a lesson."

"I can't fuck my cousin, you twat."

She yanked her skirt down to cover up her shame and immediately retracted her loose wand. Once it was aimed directly at the cousin's face from her position on the ground below, the sky began to darken immensely. A heap of thick clouds rolled in blocking every inch of sunlight that was just shining brightly down on them moments earlier. Gusts of strong wind blew in and all around the gang and pieces of newspaper and empty soda bottles circled them as the flurry picked up pace.

"Wha- what are you doing?" he stammered nervously.

"I'm not doing anything."

Once the two were alone out in the middle of the fielded area, the sky went on to darken even more, and the murky clouds above them seemed to swirl around slightly, forming a gyre. Rain started pouring down on them suddenly and scornfully, forcing them to escape the playground and hightail the exiting dirt pathway.

The two became soaked fast as they sprinted down the narrow road. They panted simultaneously as they entered a tunnel with walls smothered in graffiti and flooring littered with cigarettes. A row of lights lining the interior walls were flickering, and a pool of fresh precipitation could be seen pooling around the entrance on the other side of the sheltered section.

Suddenly, Antonia felt long and rough fingers wrap around her neck and press her aggressively into the cement wall behind her. She was lifted off of her feet and into the air by what was undoubtedly a dementor. Her throat at her captor's clench, asphyxiation kicked in.

With the little remaining sake she still held for her cousin along with her profuse fear, she croaked, "Dudley, run!"

And that he did without a second thought. He was trotting down the slick pavement directly after her request, only to slip and slide down towards the tunnel's other opening to become faced with another dementor.

Antonia struggled tremendously to breathe. Sure enough, remnants of her soul began to exude from her parted lips. She was barely able to obtain her wand to fend off the attacker, although once she succeeded with doing so, she was quick to use the "Expecto Patronum!" spell on him, lighting up the space around her and driving out the entity, doing the same for her victimized cousin.

Heavy intakes of air took up a long minute of their time. Standing at the far end of the tunnel was a familiar woman dressed in formal clothing holding a large handbag and sporting a large feathery hat atop her head.

"Mrs. Figg?"

She snapped out of her nostalgic trance and returned her focus to her current situation. She was due on the sixth floor for her Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape.

He, since her very first day attending this school, had always made her feel uneasy. Over the last five years he had paid no heed to her whatsoever, minus a few berating statements directed her way from time to time. The only real attention she'd ever received from him were those hard stares he'd give her during those prior potions classes she'd had with him. He seemed to be particularly fascinated with her eyes that strongly resembled her mother's. She had been told this by many since her first year, including the Head of Slytherin. She was shocked to know that he knew her mother, and it even bothered her to a point. Had he picked on her during his schooling at Hogwarts? Or were they close? Friends, or, heaven forbid, something more?

She had never even thought about asking him said status. Personally, she really didn't want to know anyways. Perhaps she was better off remaining oblivious to such an acknowledgement. Right now she had to prepare herself for what was bound to be a stressful hour with her most stern and condescending teacher.

…

"Turn to page two hundred and fifty eight."

Audible page flipping sounded throughout the large and eerie classroom located in the dungeons. The sixth years were frantic to get to that specific page instantly, for their scholar was and had always been far from patient.

Antonia scanned the room around her, identifying students she knew well and didn't. She spotted one of her close friend's, Neville Longbottom, sitting across the room by a trio of Ravenclaws, chewing apprehensively on his bottom lip and quaveringly turning the pages of his textbook. She felt the urge to rise from her assigned seat and join her pal across the class, but wisely decided against it.

She silently read the chapter's title 'Resisting the Imperius Curse'. She recalled using preventable tactics the year earlier with her DA group. Her thoughts were drawn to what occurred at the Ministry. The attack. Her and her friend's lives having been at stake. The crystal ball. The prophecy.

Sirius' death.

Her eyes welled up with tears at the eidetic memory of that night last spring. The loss of her godfather was still tearing her apart. She fought to end hot tears from flowing down her ample cheek as the Professor corned her table.

"Now, this year you all shall learn that your defenses must be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo." He stopped there and glared at the young auburn-haired woman seated near him. Dead quiet wafted in the drafty air for a few moments before the thirty-something Prof continued on.

Antonia felt disconcert at the thought of him having paused to look her over. It wouldn't have been the first time. She knew those dark glints of his enjoyed spending their time on her figure. She only prayed that he wasn't sexually attracted to her, and that the reason for his constant staring was for...other reasons. Yet, those 'reasons' would likely be inexcusable nonetheless.

She felt her shoulders relax and the tightness in her chest ease once he was across the room, now harshly calling on Neville to read the first few paragraphs of the chapter aloud. She continuously glanced at the clock mounted high on the bricked wall to see how much more time she had to spend in this dreadful class for the day. Her stomach churned at the fifty-four minutes she had to remain in her rickety stool. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be called on to read for the class.

…

She left class begrudgingly at the acknowledgement of just how much studying she was going to be doing that night for the quiz she was going to be having the following day. At least she was paying attention during the hour, even learning a thing or two about self-defense by means of magic.

She descended the stairway alone, now on her way to Charms class with Flitwick. She waved at Neville who passed right on by her down the flight, seeming nervous and in a hurry. She supposed that the Professor may have upset him a tad too much for their first day, for he'd never cared for the brunet, herbology-loving Gryffindor much throughout the years, for unidentifiable reasons.

That night she wrote in her diary once her roommates, Hermione, the Patil twins and Lavender Brown were sound asleep. She wrote underneath her sheets lighting up her tented area with a simple lumos spell.

'2 September 1996

I have been feeling overwhelmed lately, probably due to Sirius' death, but maybe there is something more I should be wary about. I have my suspicions that Draco is more than the usual prick he has been since first year. I believe that he is now a Death Eater. Yes, it's a daring and even dangerous assumption, I know, and I obviously cannot go to Dumbledore with my theory just yet. I need to gather more evidence before I accuse, though, the tables have been turned already, and I doubt I need to see much more before I know for sure that the prat is truly and most definitely working for Voldemort.

At the same time, I need to watch myself. After what happened last night on the Express..I just cannot allow that to happen again. I saw little of him today, for he is only in my potions class with me straight away in the morning. I plan on uncovering his common whereabouts so I can easily keep an eye on him, and get the proper proof that I'll need before pointing any fingers.

Oh, I know damn well what he's up to, however. It's only rational. His father is one, so why wouldn't he take on the deed as well? Perhaps he is being forced into this..or maybe he just wants to murder because he has enough pure dick in him to do such unspeakable acts. It wouldn't amaze me. No, I know he's not a kind person. Never has been and never will be. From the day I refused to shake his hand on the first of September just five years ago, to his alcohol-drenched tongue swimming around harassingly in my own mouth.

Excuse me while I go vomit.

~Antonia'

With that, she closed her journal and placed it into the bottom drawer of her dresser. Hopefully she would manage to get some decent shut-eye tonight.

Flat on her back she laid while drifted into a heavy stupor. The room was dimly lit with the only luminescence coming from the moonlight that shone through the window aside the sleeping girl, the curtains swept aside and the ajar opening allowing a light cool breeze to break into the room.

At the end of the bed, a sudden weight sunk down into the mattress. A figure slipped underneath the thin ruby comforter and gradually crawled further up the mattress, then onto the unconscious girl, pinning her down as He slid up her body. She came to, groggy and confused for a moment before becoming consumed with terror and horrific realization. She was about to let out a bloodcurdling scream but was not allowed a peep once a 10 inch Hawthorn wood wand was shoved almost piercingly against her chin.

She heard a low voice grumble "Not a word." She began to pant furiously as she felt long and cold fingers trace up her thighs from beneath the blanket. She squirmed madly as her nightgown was being slid up her waist to rest above her panty line. She whimpered silently while continuing to skirmish for freedom. She winced and barely managed to stifle a yelp when the weapon against her chin was thrust forcefully against her. "Don't fucking move" the voice warned, forcing her to obey.

She became nerve wracked to the point of coming close to physical sickness when those long and freezing fingers dipped into the waistband of her panties and dragged them down past her knees and completely off her ankles. She felt incredibly enervated and nauseous now, and her face had never felt more on fire. She silently begged and pleaded for her captor to cease what he was about to do, and availed not. She had no choice but to endure the hot and quickly paced breathing she felt on her bare nether parts, as well as the familiar feel of a tongue, penetrating the area where not even her own hands had traveled many times.

She writhed wildly in her place while forcibly being assaulted in an explicitly sexual manner. Cruel throaty laughter could be heard in response to her obvious distaste as He slithered up her body, sliding her sheer nightgown up her body in the process. Hard and greedy kisses trailed along her belly then onto her breastbone. Her nightie was swiftly yanked upwards to unveil her bra-less breasts for her assaulter to fool with. The large weight over her didn't distract her as much as the protruding pressure she felt between her legs. She could do nothing to retaliate as He snaked out of his own pants and underwear to tease her untouched womanhood with his own. She relentlessly begged the man to put an end to his pervasive enactment while He in turn merely ignored her pleas and sucked away at the girl's freed tits.

Immense stinging proceeded within her sex, allowing her virginity to fade away one thrust at a time. Her cleavage and chest were attacked with ravenous, lustful lovebites and licks. Those now warm and slim fingers found themselves hoisting her body closer to his own from underneath her body. Her head was nearly slamming the bed's headboard at the velocity of her attacker's fierce propelling. Her back tingled in response to His fingernails scraping against her upper back and shoulders as He pleasured himself.

It wasn't until she could've sworn that she heard the wand fall to the wooden floor before she decided to let out a piercing screech.

The next thing she knew she was feeling her insides flip as she fell over the edge of her bed to crash onto the floor. Her sheets were entangled around her waist, thereby coming down with her. She had banged her head on the edge of her dresser during the fall, resulting in major fuzziness and sharp pain to emerge throughout the back of her skull.

A lamp was turned on from across the room next to Hermione's bed. Antonia could merely lay where she was on the floor and stare in outrageous bafflement as her roommates stared scrutinizingly at her in pure obfuscation.

"What the bloody fuck happened?!" blurted Lavender from her upward position in her bed. Antonia closed her eyes and slowly began to steady her breathing. Hermione approached her and knelt down to the floor to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Just a nightmare, I presume?" she asked gently.

She met her gaze and nodded sheepishly. "I-I'm so sorry. It was just...so vivid. It-it seemed so real, I-"

"No, it's alright, Antonia. Don't you worry."

Antonia sighed heavily and brought herself to her feet with a stumble. She felt lightheaded from the aggressive fall and needed to get some fresh air. She rubbed the back of her head and announced "I'm okay. I'll just, um, go out into the common room for a while...get some water and collect my thoughts."

She made her way to the door, only to be stopped by her concerned friend. "Would you like me to join you?"

She turned and quickly told her "No, no thank you, Hermione. I just need to be alone right now.."

She nodded understandingly and headed back to her own bed. Halfway out the door, Antonia heard Lavender scoff and sneer "What a lightweight," while the Patil twins chortled briefly in turn.

Before she left, she grabbed her bathrobe from the end of her unkempt bed and put it on. Once out in the cool and drafty hall, she wrapped the satin garment more securely around her frame. She fought to rid the remaining pieces of that gruesome dream that brutishly played in her mind. She had never felt so violated in her life.

She plopped herself down onto the couch in the middle of the common room. She withdrew her wand and lit the fireplace to give the room light as well as life. She stared blankly at the flame and contemplated what had just happened. Relief coursed through her at the fact that what she'd just 'experienced' was a petty dream; a mere result of hardcore R.E.M. Yet, it seemed so authentic, both visually and physically. And though it was nothing real, it still bothered the daylights out of her.

Why on earth was she having such dreams? And especially about…

Draco.

She never saw his face in the dream, but she knew it was him. She recognized the feel of his body over her from...unfortunate prior experience. She also identified that shrill and as usual uppity voice of his through his few muttered threats he'd given her.

As the minutes ticked on, she slowly began to feel more at ease. She knew she couldn't allow herself to fall back asleep, however. Not tonight. Not after that. She rose from her lain position on the plump red sofa and headed for the storage cupboards. In a more discreet one behind a tall bottle of olive oil and a box of graham crackers was a small stash of her brought alcoholic beverages. Yes, she'd broken a good chunk of the school's rules and brought some of her own drinks.

Over the summer, she had developed...well, a habit of sorts. She took up underage drinking shortly after the murder of her godfather. She would try to refrain from doing it too often, limiting herself to no more than five glasses a week, for she knew that developing a thirst for such beverages would only result in havoc. The last thing she needed was a diagnosis of alcoholism.

Right now, she needed a shot or two of her muggle drink, chianti. She poured herself a small dose of the tangy liquid and gulped it all down in one swallow. She then went for numero two.

After a regretful six shots later, she chastised herself roughly and returned her booze to its rightful and hidden place, then trudged back to the sofa to collapse into the thick cushions and eventually drift back into sleep.

…

Sunlight filled the room that morning while the redhead laid sprawled out on the couch in the Gryffindor's common room. She groggily shifted in her place and stretched out her limbs to rid any nightly kinks and stiff muscles that could've settled in during her rest. She opened her eyes to see a lit room. The paintings on the wall were now clear and the chandelier above her looked stunning in the sunlight.

She panicked slightly upon hearing footsteps enter the room. She wasn't willing to be seen in such a sluggish manner, with her disheveled night clothing and uncombed hair. She hastily peered over the armrest of the couch to see someone she didn't have to fret over one bit.

"Oh, hello Neville," she chimed from her lazy position on the couch. The tall young man donning a red robe, striped pajamas and blue slippers jumped slightly, then smirked abashedly and sweetly mumbled "Antonia. I didn't see you there."

"Sorry to startle you, my friend," she teased in turn, now making Neville's face go light pink at the awkwardness.

"Startle? I think not," he laughed. "So, what brings you out here so early?"

She ran her right hand through her slick tresses while mumbling "I had a bad dream last night, so I came out here to, um..get a little fresh air, I suppose."

"Makes sense. I can't tell you how many times I've had to do that myself over the years. In fact, my last occurrence was just last May when I dreamt of...em, nevermind."

Antonia's eyes widened with curiosity. "Tell me. I won't judge you, Neville. Come on."

"Well, okay. Don't tell anyone this, but, I dreamt that Professor Snape had me under the influence of the Cruciatus curse while sporting my grandmother's attire. It was rather dreadful. He was even wearing her purple lipstick."

Antonia forced herself to swallow her pride and abstain a bout of laughter. She empathetically told him "That sounds rather awful, indeed."

Antonia enjoyed his presence, but not so much the other's who were making their way in. She was hardly dressed properly enough to go out and get mail. She hurriedly told Neville that she'd see him later and rushed back to her dorm.

The girls were just now awakening and pulling themselves out from under their sheets. Antonia removed her robe and allowed it to thud to the floor while she headed for her dresser. She retrieved a fresh pair of underwear and a bra, then obtained her school attire and headed into the bathroom to quickly shower.

…

"Are you going to tell me about your dream or not?"

Hermione was being awful persistent with not only that, but also Antonia's usage of her Advanced Potions book. Concern displayed itself beautifully on her friend's face, and Antonia's wasn't too happy about it.

"I already told you. I was raped."

"Well...by whom?"

"I don't know. Just drop it. It's no big deal."

Her acquaintance's expression turned to one of disappointment. "Alright. I just want to know that you're okay now."

"I am."

"Good..good, that's good."

The two continued down the corridor towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Turning the corner into the entrance of the eating area, Antonia ran right into a hard chest. The crash had caused her to drop her books and other equipment as well as the person before her to do the same.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I should have seen where I was-"

She froze upon realizing that she had just rammed into Draco. Oh, what luck. This was just what she needed. Just what she needed.

"Watch where you're going you filthy little bitch," he spat with arrogance that not even Salazar himself could muster up.

He finished up with "That goes for you too, mudblood."

"Wanker off, you vain brat," Hermione snapped. She then grabbed Antonia's wrist and sped past the pureblooded son of a bitch, yanking her along. Antonia was wholeheartedly fuming just as much as her friend, yet she couldn't find it in her at that moment to give him some of her own dirt. Damn, it was that dream. It was now messing with her confidence. Her bold ego.

Good Lord. She felt a sense of powerful defeat upon taking a seat next to Ginny. Why, she should have tackled him back there, not kept silent like some self-conscious Hufflepuff first year!

She sighed and decided to just try and move past it. Perhaps, if and when the time was right, she could find another way to get back at him. For what he did to her. Twice, too. She had to level up to the deliberate and cruel assault on the train, and for the nasty dream she was forced to endure all due to his traumatizing subconscious inflictions.

Though, she could suppose that just the one 'assault' was really his fault. Yet, she was so fired up about both the harassments that she could easily blame the arse for harming her in more than that one way.

She picked away at her plate of scrambled eggs and didn't even bother nibbling on her slice of toast spread with her favorite strawberry jam. Her stomach felt knotted up from leftover stress from both last night's vivid slumber pictures and that real-life run-in with her second-to top enemy. She was visibly shaking all over, and she could feel a lump forming in the back of her throat. She lay her fork down and rested her head in her left hand and closed her eyes. Her friends seemed to take concern at this.

"Antonia, are you feeling alright?" asked Ginny, her tone full of consternation.

At that, she rose from her inert position and nodded. "I just feel a little tired is all. I'm fine, though."

It was then when her focus was drawn across the room towards the Slytherin's table. Her eyes landed on a rising Draco Malfoy. She watched with meticulous eyes as he walked off in the other direction towards the entrance. Her nosiness was fast getting the best of her, and she couldn't bear just remaining where she was, despite her better judgements.

Overlooking her potential safety, she slipped out of her seat and proclaimed "I-I need to use the lavatory. I'll see you all later."

She chose not to wait for her friends' replies, and instead rushed out of the Great Hall to try and catch up with the mysterious young man who was bound to be up to no good.

A/N: Thank you guest and RachaelEwe for reviewing :) I appreciate the constructive feedback.

Disclaimer: All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

I'd like to thank my readers. What will our protagonist do if and when she catches the mysterious blond prowler? Next week's update shall reveal the answer! Have a lovely weekend, dear readers :)

-JLM