AN: Well, wow, um...Sorry for the delay and my unexplained absence. I really have nothing to say for myself other than I am terribly sorry I didn't give you all any heads up, and that since I felt guilty, this is a good chunk longer than most of my normal chapters. I hope you enjoy it. Quick warning: It is a little dark/rough so...just um, tread carefully I suppose.
"Tell me, Nott, how is our redheaded captive adjusting to her new life?" The hissed words slipped around Theodore's ears as he knelt before the Dark Lord.
"She is bold, and hard spirited, but I will take great pleasure in breaking her, My Lord." He swallowed thickly against the robes that seemed to be choking him. He could feel the cold fingers of Voldemort's attempt to enter his mind, and the beads of sweat dripping down his neck were a testament to how well he had done under Draco's tutelage. The Dark Lord withdrew from his head and Theodore nearly let out an audible sigh of relief. He held his breath, however, and rose to his feet, his head still bowed.
Draco relaxed his grip on the armrests of his chair on the small platform, eyes peering out from behind his silver mask. Nott was strong, stronger than Voldemort gave him credit for. It took serious effort to get a lie past the Dark Lord, and both of them had succeeded in doing so.
"My loyal friends, let us pause and reflect for a moment." Voldemort folded his hands in front of his long cloak, a horrible smile creeping onto his flat lips. "We have captured the Mudblood Granger, and the blood traitor Weasley girl. We have the perfect bait to lure Harry Potter into our clutches." His hands lifted, claw like fingers piercing the air. "Victory is upon us, my loyal disciples, and soon we will reign superior as is our destiny."
"If they won't help me, I'll go it alone." Harry Potter said furiously as he threw nearly all of his belongings into the charmed bag Hermione had left behind at Grimmauld Place. Ron followed him around the room, numb fingers touching some of Hermione's belongings that were scattered about. "Are you coming?"
"Maybe we shouldn't, Harry."
"So you're giving up on her? On Hermione? On Ginny, your sister?"
"No, I just…" Ron sighed and sat on the edge of the bed Hermione had once slept in. He picked at the pillow, a strand of long brunette hair pinched between his fingers. "I just think that maybe, Remus is right this time. Maybe we should wait, you know, until the Order is a little more on its feet."
"You're delusional." Harry spat, resuming his whirlwind packing. "The Ron I knew would have been out the door before I could have had a chance to say anything at all."
"I can't watch anyone else die, Harry." Ron grimaced and pulled awkwardly at the faded patches on his jeans. "Losing Fred, and Lavender…"
"But you'll let Hermione and Ginny rot in that goddamn mansion without so much as an attempt?" Harry spun on the spot, the shirt clutched in his hand hurling through the air at Ron's head. "You're thick, and I don't care how many people you've lost! Do you think it's easy for me to know that these people have all died because of me? This is the only way I can end it all!"
"It will never be that simple, Harry."
"I have to try."
Hermione nearly fell off the bathroom counter as someone entered the chambers she now almost exclusively shared with Draco. The door banged off the wall on the other side of the bathroom, angry and thunderous footsteps pounding across the room.
"Granger!" The use of her surname was never a good omen. She slid down off the counter, smoothing her skirt against her legs as she moved silently towards the double doors that led out of the bathroom. "GRANGER!"
"Yes?" She answered calmly. Hermione had less than a second to catch her breath before Draco's hands crushed her shoulders, bringing her face to his forcefully. She pushed in vain against his chest, her weakened frame no match now for his surprisingly wiry strength. When she tried to open her mouth to protest his actions, his hands grew stronger on her flesh and his tongue invaded the space between her teeth, hot and angry and yet desperate. A whimper escaped her, not one of pleasure but one of pain, but he misunderstood her anguish.
He hadn't been this rough in weeks. His hands were heavy and forceful, and no matter what way she turned her head, his followed. He bit at her lips more than once, making her whine. No matter what noise she made, it seemed to spurn him on faster. She pushed against his chest again and earned herself a quick but violent backhand. It broke the assault he had been dealing out on her mouth and she took the opportunity to gasp in shock.
"Stop fighting me." He all but growled the words at her, malice weakly coating the meaning of his words. Please let me. She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.
"Not until you tell me what's going on." She answered defiantly, ripping her arms out of his grip. He reached for her again and she spun out of arm's length, into the bedroom. She was trapped regardless, but if she did this dance with him he could calm down before trying to claim her.
"I don't have to tell you anything at all." Draco lunged and she barely missed being grabbed. "Stop playing, or else it'll hurt you more."
"You couldn't hurt me if you tried." She teased, ducking a wild right hook. Her eyes narrowed at him. He jumped at her again, this time his fingers ripping into the thin fabric of her shirt. Hermione defensively wrapped her arms around her middle, her shirt falling to pieces.
"Fuck, woman." Draco threw the flimsy fabric in his hand to the floor, the downward motion fluidly becoming another sharp backhand that had Hermione blindly grasping the edge of the bed. He cascaded down on her, bending her forward so her chest was pressed against the mattress. She turned her head to the side, trying to breathe as her legs kicked and flailed uselessly. The heaviness of his left hand on the back of her neck kept her in place while his right hand quickly made easy work of her clothing. Her plain skirt fell to the floor in a puddle of cotton, the threadbare undergarments quickly following.
"Please." Hermione whimpered in vain out the side of her mouth, her lips parted as she tried to suck in air. Her hair was covering her face, the ends of some strands entering her mouth. She felt the hand on the back of her neck let up just the smallest bit, its lessened pressure replaced instead by a pair of thin but firm lips she knew all too well. A barely calloused hand snaked down the length of her thigh, lifting it until it was hooked around his waist and back.
And then Draco was pulling at her hair so hard it made her cry out, and the sudden intrusion between her legs burned both in pain and pleasure. His fingertips dug greedily into the flesh of her thigh as he rocked into her hard. Her hands gripped at the thick fabric of the comforter, her slightly pained whimpers morphing into small mewls and pleasured moans. Flesh wet with sweat filled the air with tiny slaps every time he collided with her until at last, after what seemed for Hermione too short of a time to fully enjoy the experience, he slumped over on top of her back, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades.
"I'm sorry." Draco let the words linger on her skin, pressing a kiss to the top of her left shoulder before dragging himself away and into the bathroom.
Hermione had the decency to wait until the shower started running to bury her face in a pillow and sob.
"Is there anything I can get you?" Theodore asked as he poured himself a glass of strong whiskey. He wasn't normally a drinker, but today had taken it out of him and he needed a quick recharge. Ginny looked up from her book and shook her head, her small hand brushing her hair from her face. "How are your books?"
"Wonderful." She smiled graciously and pulled her legs into the armchair with the rest of her body. "I couldn't have picked better."
"I'm sure you could have, but I tried." Theodore offered her his glass and she timidly accepted, sniffing the liquid before taking a brazen sip. She sputtered at first, and then with a careful peek over the rim of the glass, and took another swallow.
"Firewhiskey?"
"Just whiskey." Theodore took his tumbler back and downed half of it easily. He wasn't in a sipping mood today. They remained silent for a beat or two, and then Theodore sighed. "The Dark Lord wants more information from you." He gave the tumbler a swirl.
"Information?"
"Yes. Regarding the Order of the Phoenix." Another swirl.
"I won't say anything." Ginny stated resolutely, crossing her arms over her chest. Theodore chuckled at her defiance and then quickly swallowed the remainder of the whiskey.
"There's an easy way to do this, Ginny, and a hard way."
"Are you threatening me?" She was on her feet faster than Theodore expected and he instinctively reached for his wand. She snarled at him. "You're going to torture it out of me then? Go on! Hit me with everything you've got, you good for nothing bastard."
"Calm down." He set the glass down on the desk, exhaling slowly. "I'm not going to hex you."
"Rape me? Beat me? Kick me? Try to drown me?" She was hurling suggestions at him quicker than he could process them.
"Shut up!" His resolve snapped and his voice thundered about the room a few times before everything settled back to normal. Ginny stood angrily across the room from him, her fists clenched at her sides as her chest rose and fell in great heaves. Theodore gripped the back of the armchair she had been resting in so tightly that his fingernails had ripped through the fabric and his knuckles had gone from white to purple. "All I was trying to say was that you either tell me, or you tell him. It's your choice, and I'm trying to protect you."
"Protect me?" She scoffed. "I don't need your pity, nor your sympathy, nor your bloody compassion." Ginny scowled. "And at the very most I don't need your damned protection."
"Really?" He let the word roll slowly from his mouth.
She let out a horrified gasp as he closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, robes misting and swirling through her peripherals. She suddenly felt hands, light and hard and pushing and pulling, climbing all over her body, tugging and pressing and choking and stinging. The room had gone horribly dark, so dark she couldn't make out the shape of her hand as she blindly reached for anything to bring her back to reality.
"Please stop." She barely choked out the words as she felt hands creeping up the sides of her face, nails digging into her skin. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her pulse mixing with the hot sound of his breath over her shoulder.
"I'm not even hurting you." Theodore seemed almost triumphant when her hand collided with his arm, her fingers clinging to him desperately. She shook her head and dropped to her knees, curling in on herself. He knelt beside her, two fingers coming to rest under her chin. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, but what I do to you is nothing and will be nothing compared to what they could do." He tossed his head in the direction of the closed bedroom door. She shuddered. "The easy way is to tell me what I ask for. The hard way is to spend the rest of your time here away from me, and back down in a cell, where you can't be guaranteed to live."
It took her a moment, but finally, shaking and fighting the knot in her throat, she nodded.
"I don't…I don't want to go back there." Ginny took three unsteady breaths, almost hiccupping as memories of the dungeon raced through her mind.
"I thought not." His thumb laid gently against the dip between her lower lip and her chin, too dark eyes locking with hers.
She couldn't bring herself to fully relax into the kiss she knew was coming, but it was decidedly different, and better, than any touch she had experienced in the Manor.
AN: Well, I hope you all enjoyed it, and whether or not you did, I would appreciate any feedback you have for me! Fair winds and following seas!