Original Notes: Please note there are some sexual assault implications here. Nothing too graphic but please do not read if this is a trigger for you. Feel free to leave a review and I will send you an amended chapter so you can continue on without it if it is an issue. This is mostly about Draco developing as a human. Becoming a fraction less self interested (a fraction) Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: Still rated M. I don't own the Harry Potter franchise. If did I would be on a cruise ship in the Caribbean tonight. Spoiler: I am not.

Part Ten: Righteous Anger

It had been one hundred and twenty days since he last saw Hermione Granger.

Time seemed to move at a pace that was glacial and torturous. He avoided clocks because he felt like the hands were mocking him. He avoided food because he couldn't keep it down.

He tried not to register the permanently worried look on the Minister's face. Tried to ignore the uneasy mutterings of his colleagues.

Their departure was not made public, even internally, until after the fact. Not even Draco, a senior member of the Defence Against the Dark Arts area of the Ministry had been aware of their Golden Trio's agreement to go on the Ministry's little suicide mission.

He found out after the fact that Granger had been the last to agree. Shortly after the night at the bar.

Despite his best attempts at avoidance, guilt plagued him. Did he drive her to it? To try and be a martyr after what she had done? Was she punishing herself?

The "Sorry," note was not their last contact of course.

In true Granger fashion she had sent a reply before running off with Potty and Weasel to try to get themselves killed for the umpteenth time.

"Have them," it said, along with a delicate vial of silver liquid wrapped in a red bow. She had used red ink to counter his green. Ever the house loyalist.

It had taken him some time to get up the courage to look at what she sent him. Knowing it would be the unedited memory she had kept from him (and everyone else). He wasn't sure he wanted to see what led this woman to do something so despicable.

He figured the first thing his father did when he left the Manor was send an owl to his bosom buddy, letting her know all about what he had seen.

She probably already knew he had seen the other side of her actions. Wanted to tell her side of the story. Or maybe the sorry note softened her, he dared to hope.

It bothered him that she and Lucius appeared to share a strange bond. A closeness.

Truthfully. he was envious. His father of all people appeared to have built a bridge. All Draco knew how to do was burn them down.

Look at how he had messed things up with Granger, someone who had actually gone out of her way to help him. The woman who had even kept some of her humour about the stolen memory fandango, until he pushed it too far.

Her obvious physical attraction to his father (which was clearly mutual) also bothered him, although his response to that was one of jealousy rather than envy. Why not me? He found himself thinking bitterly.

Yes, it had been one hundred and twenty long days since he had seen her - and he was beginning to wonder if he would ever see her face again.

When he finally did it, her memory felt very cold, because she was very cold, he supposed.

She was injured and had lost blood. They had snatched her and taken her to a wretched place, throwing her into a dungeon like a piece of garbage.

Draco felt his pulse quicken.

It took a moment for her to rise to her feet and survey her surroundings. That was when she was met with the full horror of the scene. Draco's weak stomach struggled to remain calm.

There were bodies, living and dead, contorted and violated. Their eyes. Oh god their eyes.

Some of the people in the room were living, women chained to walls laying on filthy mattresses. His heart sank. His suspicions had been confirmed.

She was not bound, but she had no wand and was very injured. Not a threat enough to bind, he reckoned.

It was clear that Granger needed immediate medical attention. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her – but it was no use.

He tried to ease himself with the knowledge that she was going to get out of that place. This was just a memory.

True to form, she seemed to disregard her own pain as she immediately began to comfort the women…and girls… some of them were only girls. Fuck.

It was obvious what they had been kept there for. Suddenly Draco felt grateful to know that these poor excuses for wizards would soon end up dead at her hands.

The memory moved and swirled as if to indicate some time had passed. A new day perhaps, he was not sure.

She waited for them to return. She had a plan, or so she told a young girl he recognized from Hogwarts. She was younger than Hermione.

The women, and girls, had told her everything of course. He tried desperately not to listen. Animals, he thought.

She had gleaned from the harem of victims that they favoured the Imperius curse to control their prey. Hermione had smiled when she heard this. Strange reaction, he thought.

She sat against the cold stone wall with a steely resolve in her eye, if ever there was a look of a woman with a plan, it was her. He felt hopeful that she might escape this un-violated.

The memory shuffled again as time and perception altered. She was still weak, but had stopped bleeding.

The men eventually came for her, as she probably calculated. Fresh meat, he thought bitterly. After all, she was a particularly beautiful witch...

After throwing her around a bit for show, they cast the first unforgivable against her. To his horror, she immediately became compliant. The men pawed at her greedily. It was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen, he thought, as they groped at her breasts and behind.

Since they told her she would like it, she smiled serenely at the violation. She moaned. There goes that weak stomach again.

Draco almost lost focus for a moment but was glad he didn't when he witnessed her make her move.

Before the men knew what was going on she had used her knee to hit one in the groan, disarmed him and turned the stolen wand on the other.

Not only had she used muggle self-defense, which they were likely unfamiliar with, they had thought she was in the clutches of the curse, unable to defy them. No will power of her own.

She was throwing hexes before they had time to retaliate. Nasty nasty hexes. All that reading in the restricted section really paid off, he thought.

The other women in the filthy basement cried out with glee. In the midst of hurling curses she cast spells to release the women from their chains, some immediately started running, others stayed to hit and beat the now helpless rapists.

Their righteous anger hung in the air as the circus like show of violence continued, Hermione the ring leader.

She had laid a honey trap. That's why he saw her smirk earlier when she heard their modus operandi. Smart little witch.

He had heard that people could resist the Imperius curse if they had exceptional strength and will power. In addition, it took a great deal of practice. Clearly the Princess had done some training. He smiled at her incredible skill and resolve. He had since come to wonder who she trusted enough to practice with.

When the men began to break down under the torture, physical and magical, she dealt the final blow. Casting the unforgivable and giving them their instructions for their arrival at the Manor.

Her eyes were glowing with delight as she handed them the jagged daggers, noting the look of horror in their eyes.

It was positively delicious to watch.

The rage he had initially felt at her alleged hypocrisy had long since dissipated when he realized the level of depravity that had been allowed to continue at the hands of the men who wound up dead on the doorstep of his family home.

She wasn't a hypocrite. She was a hero as she always was. She had just used more violent means than anyone had come to associate with her. It was a war after all.

He felt a bitter twist in his stomach when he thought about how he judged her the night he took her home. The things he had said. How quickly she got the hell out of there. Running from him.

Despite it all she was off being a hero again and who knew if she would escape this time? How many lives could the girl possibly have left?

Would he ever get to give her a proper apology?