Chapter Ten: Cracking

She awoke with a start, lurching forwards into a sitting position and jerking away when she felt hands on her arms, trying to keep her still.

"She's awake!" someone called out.

It took a while for her eyes to refocus, but the light was blinding her and all she could hear was a strange jumble of voices and a clattering of footsteps that seemed to be heading straight towards her.

The hands were still on her, and she stifled a sob as she tried to bat them away.

"Please, no!" she whimpered.

"Please, Hermione," someone said, "please calm down. He's not here. You're safe."

Upon hearing this, her hysterics calmed somewhat as her eyes began to focus, and the memories of what had transpired slipped back into the corner of her mind.

She looked around.

White.

Everything was white.

Sunlight glowed in every corner of the room; she felt a beam of it on her skin, how it warmed her and she closed her eyes and took a shaky breath as the hands released her. She felt the soft linen sheets on her skin, and they were white too. She was in the Hospital Wing.

She looked at the hands that were resting on her bed and trailed the arms back to the body, and she discovered Ron to be the owner of those hands. His freckled face was drawn and pale with worry, there were shadows around his eyes, indicating he hadn't slept for some time.

"What happened?" she asked in a whisper. Her throat didn't hurt anymore, thank Merlin, but it felt odd and fuzzy. She was thirsty.

As if he had read her mind, Ron grabbed a glass of water that was held out to him by Madame Pomfrey (whom Hermione had not realized was there, and jumped upon finding her at the foot of her cot). He thrust the glass at Hermione, who took it at once and drank deeply, not caring that she was spilling a bit or that she was making rather rude gulping noises.

When she finished, Madame Pomfrey took the glass and set it aside on a night table by Hermione's cot.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" she asked. It did not pass Hermione how the woman's usually brusque tone was gone, and at this moment, was soft and soothing as a mothers'.

"Fine," Hermione whispered. She stretched a little; taking in the soreness of her arms and torso.

The Healer quickly stepped over, and after a quick examination of Hermione's forehead and pupils, nodded to herself and walked away.

"How long was I out?" Hermione asked Ron.

Ron looked out the window. "A day and a half."

"Surely not?" Hermione asked, shocked and dismayed at having missed a day of class.

"Considering what you went through, Pomfrey was surprised you weren't out longer," he spoke quietly. His eyes went back to her.

"And Harry?" she asked, looking round the infirmary once more. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. A prickle of hurt went through her.

"He's speaking with Professor McGonagall."

Hermione nodded absently, twisting her hands in her lap.

"He got away, didn't he?" she whispered.

Ron hesitated, and then nodded.

"And you're both angry with me, aren't you?" she added, looking up into his face.

Ron sighed.

"We're upset. Not angry. The one we're angry at is Malfoy. But we should wait until McGonagall and Harry get here to talk about what happened."

Hermione blinked back the tears in her eyes. "Ok," she whispered. "Ok."

His hand was gripping hers again, and he drew the chair he had been sitting on closer to her.

"Malfoy, h-he didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked, stumbling a bit due to how fast he spoke.

Hermione knew what he meant at once, and looked away.

"He didn't rape me," she said, and he visibly sagged in relief. "He was about to, when you two came," she continued, and gave Ron a watery smile. "I can't thank you enough for that."

Ron smiled, but before he could say anything the doors to the infirmary swung open and Professor McGonagall and Harry stepped inside, heading straight for her and Ron. She caught Harry's eye and noticed how the tension in his posture slipped away when he realized that she was awake. It didn't take away the concern from his eyes, however.

Harry stationed himself on her other side and took her hand and squeezed it softly.

"Miss Granger," the Headmistress stood at the foot of her cot and gazed at her star pupil with sad, old eyes. "Are you feeling better?"

Hermione nodded.

"I am sorry that we must conduct this interview right now, I know you are fatigued and need rest, but you have endured a serious attack, and we must know everything that happened. Malfoy may have gotten away but there are ongoing searches and any information you give us may help us."

"I understand, Professor," Hermione said, and sat up against the headboard, wincing slightly. Hrr head pounded sharply.

Harry came over and stood beside Ron.

"How did all of this begin?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"At the ball," Hermione began. "There was someone disguised as a wolf in attendance. He had sent me a note the night before, asking me to save him a dance. He came up to me before the end of the ball and once we were in private, he revealed himself."

"Who was this person?" McGonagall asked.

"Cormac McLaggen," Hermione said simply, and the three magic folk around her started in surprise.

They opened their mouths to ask how this was possible when Hermione held up her hand to silence them.

"He told me that he had information on Draco Malfoy, but hinted that he was in danger for having the information and for being at Hogwarts, so he asked me to meet him at the Shrieking Shack on the next Hogsmeade weekend, which was yesterday." She took a breath. The Headmistress nodded for her to continue.

"It was obvious he hadn't wanted anyone to know who he was or why he was there, which was why I didn't tell you," she said to Harry and Ron.

"I met him at the Shrieking Shack, and he suggested we go inside so no one could see or hear us." A tear trickled down her cheek. "I was an idiot for believing him. I should have known better."

The Professor began to speak, but Hermione shook her head, and the elder woman fell silent.

"Once we got inside, he started acting odd; asking personal questions-"

"Questions about what?" Harry cut in.

"About our relationship," Hermione answered quietly, blushing.

"I told him it wasn't any of his business, and he changed his demeanor again, and started acting strangely." She wiped at her eyes. "It was Malfoy."

"How?"

"He was under Polyjuice pretending to be Cormac. He..he confessed to killing him. He's been dead for a longntime, I think, and nobody knew. Malfoy even hinted at it last year but he was so vague I thought he was lying to scare me."

McGonagall had a severe look on her face. "Did he say how he killed him? Or why?"

Hermione shook her head. "He said he did it to punish him for what he did to me at the Christmas ball last year."

McGonagall frowned. "How did he come to learn of that? It was kept private at your request."

"He used Occlumency, Professor. He did the same thing to me after the ball."

The Headmistress's expression was one of unguarded worry. Sensing the alarm from her students, she masked it quickly.

"Continue."

"He attacked me," Hermione confessed with a shudder, the tears falling more freely. "He kept saying that I belong to him and when I refused, he strangled me."

Harry's fists clenched as he watched her begin to crack in front of him. More than anything, he wanted to hold her and kiss her and tell her everything was going to be okay; he wanted to find Malfoy and stick his rotten corpse in Azkaban and then kill him over and over, but he forced himself to stay where he was. He squeezed her hand more tightly.

"He was about to rape me when Harry and Ron came," she said thickly, her throat clogging up due to her tears. "He pulled me up and threatened to leave and take me with him if they didn't put their wands down, and when I fought him he threatened to summon Voldemort."

The Headmistresses' face was void of colour, she held herself more rigidly than usual as she regarded the Head Girl.

"He was taunting Harry," Hermione recalled softly, looking out the window. "Using me to try to provoke him to starting a fight. When he was distracted, I knocked my head against his and kicked him between the legs. He let me go, and the I passed out."

"Hermione panicked when we tried to help her up," Harry said, pain laced into his voice. "Malfoy disapparated before we could get to him."

Professor McGonagall reached forward and took Hermione's free hand.

"The Order has been informed. Apparently our searches for Malfoy have not been thorough enough. He seems to be pushing his luck indeed, murdering one of the greatest wizards of all time and then come waltzing back into my school to make things personal." She scowled at the wall, and then fixed her eyes back on Hermione, withdrawing her hand.

"There is one thing I do not understand. Why did he come back and target you?"

Hermione waited a moment to gather her thoughts before responding.

"He tried to kidnap me when he ran away last year, but I fought back. Before he left, he promised me he would come back for me."

"He has great confidence for someone so young," McGonagall's lips were stiff.

"He seems to have developed a strange sort of obsession with her, Professor," Harry said. "

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Hermione said, her face crumpling. "I wanted to...I-I tried, but I thought I could handle it, and then he kept me from it, and I was s-so scared..."

"Do not blame yourself," McGonagall said, a little sharply. "No one ever really knows how much they can withstand. You are not weak for it having happened to you, especially when he was cowardly enough to prevent you from defending yourself."

Hermione nodded, using the bedsheets to dry her eyes.

Professor McGonagall 'hmmphed' and nodded before taking one step back.

"I'll let you in peace now," she said. "I am glad you managed to escape. Although it was not exactly wise of you to trust Malfoy, even if he was in disguise."

Hermione bowed her head in shame.

"All the same," the Headmistress continued. "You fought admirably. Even if you did not have your wand, the fact that you bested a pureblood wizard with Muggle techniques speaks volumes about you." Her lips quirked into a small grin before it faded and she frowned, glowering at the wall again.

"They think they can get away with it a second time and take my best student," she muttered. "I think not."

And with a curt nod, and another prompt squeeze of Hermione's hand, she stalked out of the room.

"Think she's going a bit soft?" Ron asked once the doors had closed behind her.

Harry snorted.

Hermione allowed herself a small laugh before wincing and touching her hand to her forehead. The cut she had suffered from hitting her head against the floor was gone, but it still was quite tender.

She shivered in disgust as she began lightly touching the marked skin on her neck. She had hoped those marks would be gone by now. The bites and 'hickeys' Malfoy had left were healing, but still dotted all over her skin.

Harry and Ron were watching her carefully.

"Can I leave?" she asked, surprised at how small her voice sounded.

Ron nodded. "Madam Pomfrey was just waiting until you woke up. Your other injuries have been taken care of."

Harry helped Hermione off the bed. She stumbled for a second or two before she regained her footing and was able to slip into the loo to change into a new set of clothing Harry had brought from her room.

It doesn't matter what I wear, anyway, she thought to herself as she pulled her shirt over her head. I'm taking a dozen showers soon as I get to my dorm.

They walked silently until they reached the Head Common Room. Hermione hesitated before she climbed inside.

"Does anyone know?" she whispered to her two best friends.

"Neville knows, but everyone else thinks you've been sick with the flu. We made sure no one saw you in the Hospital Wing," Ron said.

She nodded before they climbed inside and sat on the squashy armchairs.

It was still morning, so they didn't have to worry about Neville, since he would be in class.

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you," Hermione said in a half whisper. "I would be dead by now, or worse, he'd have taken me Merlin knows where if you two hadn't found me."

"We're glad we found you in time, and we're glad you're ok, or still getting to 'ok', Harry said. "But you know you could have trusted us."

"I know," she said. "I was a fool. I thought I could do it myself. But I was wrong. I never should have trusted him, and I'm sorry."

"From now on, we communicate," he said. "Ron and I will watch out for you. If anything else suspicious happens, we need to know."

He leaned back heavily in his chair, and looked at her with pleading eyes.

"I can't lose you. We can't lose you, Hermione."

Hermione nodded slowly before standing and kissing each on the forehead.

"You can go back to your classes," she said quietly. "Don't expect to see me at dinner." And she slipped inside her room.

She held herself against the door as she listened to them leave, neither speaking a word. Once she was sure they were gone the tears began to fall, and she let them, for she finally was in the privacy of her own room and there was no one to see her.

So he was back.

Hermione pressed her palms to her mouth to stifle the scream that rushed up her throat. She stood there, shaking violently, still feeling his hands on her.

She could have been murdered. She could have been raped, and all by her own fault.

Regardless of McGonagall's words, it still stung to think about. If she'd just told someone early on, none of this would be happening. Malfoy would be dead or behind bars or better, getting the Kiss from a Dementor.

His promise from the year before echoed in her mind and she screwed her eyes shut, unsuccessfully attempting to block out his voice.

Her room was dark and silent save for her troubled breathing.

She felt like a failure, for she had been daft enough to let him sway her into following him. She didn't deserve her rank at the top of the class or her Head Girl badge. How wrong they had all been about her.

A truly smart person would not have met in secret or followed a former attacker. A clever person would have known there was something strange about an expelled student returning to a school where he was not welcome. For Merlin's sake, they had almost been caught because of her! Malfoy had been only one step away from calling Voldemort. What if he had done it? Harry would have been killed, and what about her and Ron? What about everyone else? No, she was a complete idiot, and idiots don't deserve merit.

She felt her skin crawl as she sank to the floor, still leaning against the door. She felt dirty. What he had done to her was farther than she had ever gone with any boy, and she just wanted to burn her skin off where he had touched her. She needed a shower. She needed to feel clean again.

He dove to the floor and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the stream of Fiendfyre his aunt was aiming at him.

He hadn't even broken into a sweat yet though he had been in this training session for over an hour. They had thrown hexes and jinxes and two of the Unforgivables back and forth, dancing in a dangerous, bloodthirsty training session. He was wholly focused on the battle, his mind blank save for the calculations and preparations he was making for his next moves.

The older witch was giving everything she had in her attacks, but none of her tactics seemed to be enough to beat her nephew. There was a cold fury in his eyes as he maintained his defense, expertly avoiding or deflecting each curse she sent his way. He was dueling extremely well, and she was filled with pride at seeing how great he had become. But he was growing bored, she could tell because he was getting frustrated, moving lazily as he fought her, yet still kept a wonderfully intimidating demeanor that would have made the Dark Lord proud. With narrowed eyes and a flash of her wasted teeth, she had summoned the dark fire.

Augamenti and Finite Incantatem were powerless against it. Most spells were, really. The best way to stop the cursed fire was to have the caster end it, and that took a very talented, not to mention strong witch or wizard. But Aunt Bella was more than capable of that. She toyed with the horrible flames like they were her children, using the exact amount of control needed so the raging stream of hostile flames was like a whip in her hand.

Any other day, he would have applauded her and grudginly complimented her. But damn it all, he was in no mood for playing around. He needed this, needed something to shove his failure from the previous days out of his mind.

So he swiftly turned and launched a freezing charm at his Aunt, who easily blocked it. The Fiendfyre was still roaring through the room, not destroying anything but the temperature of the room, for the room was bare. He should have felt hot, but he didn't feel the heat in the least. He was all iron and ice. Aunt Bella was circling him and he watched her steadily as the flames coiled around her like a burning snake. She moved to strike at the same moment he shot three spells; two at her person in general and one at her feet. Two verbal, one silently.

She blocked the first two with a malevolent grin on her face but had not seen the third land at her feet, and therefore was not aware of the small puddle of acid disintegrating her boots.

With a crazed yell she leapt backwards and the flames vanished as she tugged off her footwear. Her feet were unharmed, but the boots were done for. He expected her to fly off in a rage, for he knew she had been fond of those, but instead, she grinned wickedly at him and tucked her wand back into her bodice.

"Congratulations, nephew," she cackled. "You grow stronger each day. You honor your family."

He said nothing, only nodded in acknowledgement before stiffly bowing and walking out of the room.

He exited the Malfoy Manor's fencing room and went straight to the lounge, where he knew his father would be.

The handsome older man was standing at the window, looking out into his fine property, where the proud white peacocks roamed, pecking disinterestedly at the ground.

"Father."

He turned and smiled dimly at his son, who had sat down in his favorite armchair made with black leather.

"Son," he greeted him calmly. "I take the training went well?"

Draco scowled. "I grow bored of it."

Lucius nodded. "Bella has told me of your increased skill. It would seem you haven't anymore need of training."

Draco looked relieved. "Thank you, Father."

"Your mother is gaining health," Lucius continued a little quickly. "It is not much, but she does not sleep as much now, and her fevers have lessened."

"But we still don't know the cause of the illness?" Draco asked.

"She is recuperating, and that is all that counts," the older man said.

"Well," Draco stood up. "At least that's something."

"Are you off so soon?" Lucius asked. "You've told me nothing about what happened when you went to get the girl. Did you take her?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "No. I got carried away and Potter and Weasely came in before I could bring her."

Lucius chuckled, much to Draco's annoyance.

"So much trouble all for one girl," he mused.

Draco scoffed. "She's not just some girl, Father."

His father simply smirked. "Oh?"

"No. I'll have you know that she's the cleverest witch out of all the others in that bloody school. She's saved those two dunces she calls friends' lives more times than they can count, and she's beautiful and everything I want and she is mine." Draco said hotly.

Lucius tipped his head and peered at his son carefully.

"If I didn't know any better, my boy, I'd say you were in love with her."

"If I was, it wouldn't be a problem, would it?" Draco's voice was soft and menacing. "The Dark Lord has allowed it. I want her and she will be my wife and bear me as many heirs as I please. If anyone has a problem with that then they will deal with me."

"That's my boy," Lucius grinned and clapped Draco on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Draco grimaced to himself. He hadn't quite meant to say so much. But it didn't matter now.

She had gotten away from him. Again.

He wanted to find her, wherever she was right now, and drag her back to his manor and give her a good punishment before giving her the fucking of her life.

No doubt she was in Potters' arms now, crying her silly little heart out over what he had done to her. He scoffed. Compared to what he was planning for her, that was nothing.

He did have to admit he had gotten too carried away-he should have just stunned her and then taken her away. But his lust had overridden his mind and he couldn't resist taking a sample of what he had been denied for so long. He rubbed his fingers over his lips lightly as he remembered how hers had felt against his, the taste and texture.

He had botched his own plan due to his stupidity (and raging hormones). Now it was time to go back to the drawing board and figure out how he was going to get her. He was growing tired of this game. At least on the day of the ball, when he had been disguised as Cormac, he'd taken the liberty of securing a spy to keep an eye on Granger for him. That was better than nothing.

The sun was setting and the darkness was sweeping in, casting its shadowy arm over the castle.

Two young men stood in a private debate inside a dusty charms room.

"It's the only way," he spoke softly as he stared out the window.

"No," said the other, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. No. We can't do that to her."

"And you'd rather we lead her out into the open? Where danger lies at every corner and he can easily find her? Or anyone else?" Agitated, he crossed from one end of the room to the other as his friend watched helplessly.

"We'll be careful. We won't let them find her."

"That's not a risk I'm willing to take. You've seen how all this is affecting her. She's not the same... It's not an option, Ron. She stays here."

The red-headed young man's shoulders slumped in defeat and he looked out the window at the darkening sky.

"She'll never forgive us for this," he sighed.

"I'd rather have her hate us than let her be taken by him," Harry snapped.

"How will we tell her?" Ron asked.

"Leave it to me."