AN: Okay I know what you're thinking, and I'm sorry this took so long. I've had my birthday, and there was GISHWHES, and Mardi Gras, I've been doing my original writing because when you get that random burst of motivation and inspiration, you've got to go for it really, so yeah sorry. Not to mention I've now started college so my A levels will end up taking up quite a bit of my time so I apologise in advance for more long waits. To make up for it, this is my longest chapter yet, woo hoo. It takes quite a few different turns so it's a bit stop-start, in my opinion, I don't know, I also haven't properly checked for any mistakes because I didn't want it to take even longer.

WARNING: ABUSE AND RAPE THREATS. I've put a double line before and after this in case this may be upsetting for anyone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

The Slytherin table would have to cope without Draco's contribution for a while, it seemed, as his mealtimes were spent watching Granger intently across the Great Hall, always seated next to a too-close Weasley at the scarlet-and-gold adorned Gryffindor table. A few weeks have gone by in this manner and it seemed most of them have simply grown used to him being absent, not bothering him as to why. Blaise, for one, knew from day one, and the rest really didn't give a shit.

Slytherins aren't generally of the concerned or trusting nature. If Draco wanted to be silent during meals, then they'd leave him to it. It was not their business and they didn't want it to be. That's just how things worked.

To his disappointment, he and Hermione did not talk much after the night-time run in except to discuss duties or engage in idle small talk. Thankfully, Hermione never allowed Weasley into the dorms, no matter how much he'd beg her. Draco would smugly listen from the sofa in the common room, seemingly disinterested, as she once again denied him entrance and went about her daily business.

She would never tell him, but Draco knew that something odd was going on between her and Weasley. The fact that they were together at all nauseated him enough but – call him crazy – he seemed to think it nauseated Granger all the same. It might just be his hopeful side talking, but his instincts haven't been wrong thus far, and so he was going to find out what was going on once and for all. It might even help get rid of the annoying obstacle that is Weasley.

For now, however, civil cooperation and daydreaming was what he had to settle for, if he just wanted to be around her. It would never fully sooth his nagging Veela, but it would have to do.

From simply observing Hermione Granger, without a blind perspective of hatred towards her, he learnt a lot about the girl. How she tapped out the rhythm of the music she was listening to on her thumb with her fingers, how she twirled her hair when reading, how she liked her tea with more milk than possible and one sugar, how she baked when she was stressed or upset, how she'd chew the end of her quill when concentrating, how she'd sometimes fall asleep when reading or doing homework, how she would get up in the middle of the night to make a hot drink if she couldn't sleep.

All the little things Draco never thought would interest him seemed to grab his attention now more than ever. He didn't find her alluring just because she had a nice body or a pretty face, but because of all these little things that made Hermione Granger who she is. He didn't know her favourite colour, or flower, or food, or music, but he knew her quirks, just the little things, and it was a start.

One night found Granger at Gryffindor Tower, leaving Draco to mope in their common room, pining for his mate. This is why Blaise, who had been told how to enter the Head's quarters right at the beginning of the year, found Draco lying on his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

"Draco for the love of Merlin, will you pull yourself together?" Blaise exclaimed loudly as he sat down on the sofa, glaring at Draco's sulking form.

"You don't understand, Blaise," he muttered. Blaise rolled his eyes and summoned a bottle of butterbeer from the kitchenette, and he leant back with a groan.

"What don't I understand?" he asked, exasperated. Draco turned his head to look at his friend, who had made himself quite at home drinking his supply of butterbeer. Bastard.

"How much this fucking sucks," He moaned, eliciting another eye-roll from Blaise. "She's probably with Weasley right now, with his slimy ginger hands touching her." He shuddered slightly and Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure it's just his hair that's ginger. Besides, I doubt that will last long, she seems pretty absent from the whole relationship, must be because she's a Veela mate and all," he sipped from his butterbeer casually, regarding Draco with an almost bored expression. "But if I'm honest with you, this whole thing is getting pretty tiring, Draco." He shrugged at the haggard-looking blond, whose eyebrows furrowed.

"What thing?" he sat up, frowning at Blaise, who shifted in his seat.

"This moping stalker-y Draco. It's not you. You're acting like Astoria when she's found a new conquest, except instead of drivelling on about a guy's wealth and 'abs', you're going on about some nonsense to do with how she chews," Draco huffed at this "For Salazar's sake mate, stop sulking and be that egotistical bastard that everyone knows and hates," at Draco's scowl Blaise rolled his eyes and added "In a loving way, of course."

Draco crossed his arms and huffed again, but he knew Blaise was right. He was not acting like himself at all. He was acting like a lost puppy instead of the conniving dick everyone is used to. Yeah, he's not exactly as much as a giant wank stain as he used to be, but his usual verve, sarcasm and wit was just wilting away, shying under this miserable whiney Draco his bloody Veela was making him become. Draco's eyes widened at his inner realisation and he groaned.

"Oh, what now?!" Blaise exclaimed, defeated. Draco shook his head.

"You're right, shit you're right I'm becoming a fucking Hufflepuff." He groaned again and Blaise stared disbelievingly at the blond before guffawing loudly.

"Shut the fuck up Zabini, it is not funny!" Draco reached for a sofa cushion and threw it at the laughing Italian, scowling.

"Ah yes, this is what I miss, you swearing at me as I have yet again beat you in a game of wits, and accosting me with various items, in this case, a cushion." He smirked at Draco, who rolled his eyes, but there was a flash of amusement.

"Blaise, can you do something for me?" he asked. Blaise raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Well that depends on whether you want me to make you a cup of tea or run naked into the Forbidden Forrest. In one case I'd have to say you're pushing it too far with the tea, mate, I'm not your house elf." Draco snorted and rolled his eyes again, regarding the smug Zabini with amusement.

"Don't worry I won't have you making my tea, you don't even know how I like it you inattentive scumbag," he stuck his tongue out at Blaise, who just grinned, "But seriously, if I become this moping twat again, kill me." Blaise smirked.

"Oh I won't need any prompting for that, my dear Draco. However, if you even want to live past nineteen you're going to have to hurry things up with your lovely Granger, I suggest just telling her she's your mate. It seems she'd be pretty happy to have to break it off with the Weasel, if I'm honest with you." Draco scowled.

"That or she'll avoid me completely or only ever be with me out of a sense of duty." He grumbled. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Oh yeah you want to woo her. But," he said seriously "She already knows you're a Veela, so if you start putting the moves on her well... she's not exactly stupid now, is she?" Draco groaned dejectedly.

"Well then what can I do?" he asked, frustrated. Blaise took another sip of his butterbeer and for a moment was silent in thought, before his eyes lit up and he grinned excitedly.

"I've got it, she won't realise you're her mate, and she'll be completely head over heels," Draco quirked an eyebrow curiously at Blaise.

"What is it?" he asked. Blaise grinned at him mischievously.

"Two words," he said "Secret," he raised one finger "Admirer." And then another. Draco's eyes widened and he pursed his lips in thought.

"Don't you think it's a bit... corny for Granger?" he asked, cringing slightly, causing Blaise to shake his head, smiling.

"I'm telling you, deep down, Granger is most probably a giant romantic; most girls are." he responded. Draco chewed his lip in thought.

"But what if she doesn't like it? What if she hates me because of it? She is with someone, after all." Blaise rolled his eyes but grinned at him.

"Then you stop. She won't know it's you; it's called a secret admirer for a reason, you know." Draco scowled.

"Don't patronise me, you spew bucket." Blaise laughed.

"Spew bucket, that's new." Draco grinned cockily at him.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, can't be using the same old commoner insults now can we?" Blaise rolled his eyes.

"I swear your head is so far up your own arse you're eating shit." Draco smiled innocently.

"And you wouldn't have me any other way."

Hermione was not having a good time at Hogwarts.

The reasons, however, were completely unexpected. Whereas before she would've worried about whether Draco Malfoy, her partner as Head Boy, would kill her in her sleep, now she was worrying about Ron Weasley, her supposed boyfriend.

The more time she spent with him, the worse she felt. Realising her friends noticed nothing as he pinched her thighs under the table, how she looked ill just from being around him, how she'd stiffen when he sat next to her, was a heavy weight in itself. Harry and Ginny seemed too involved in themselves and too happy for the couple making it work to even care.

As for Malfoy, he had been perfectly polite. He had not called her a Mudblood once, whereas Ron, who defended her in second year against the foul word, called her it at least once a day. She had grown used to it, and was no longer surprised to hear Ron Weasley spit that she was a Mudblood whore. It was getting a bit dull, however, and she was tempted to tell him so. "Mudblood" no longer held the kick it once did. Though she feared letting Ron know that may elicit a round of actual kicks.

In the five weeks since their arrival at Hogwarts, he'd beaten her thrice. Hermione feared the beatings would become more frequent, and even more brutal, but her unexplainable fear of Ron kept her from telling anyone, from seeking help. Ron, ever considerate, hurt her in places easily covered up, and at one point she'd been forced to attempt to heal a broken rib, leaving behind a huge purple bruise.

The only person who'd seemed to notice anything off with her and Ron was, of all people, Malfoy.

Malfoy.

It was weird, how he affected her. His change seemed permanent, and though he was snarky as ever, he was not malicious or prejudiced. He was simply a sarcastic twat on occasion. She liked this change. She liked how he smiled at her, how he seemed to generally care about her well-being, how well they worked together in their duties, how he could hold an intellectual conversation or not complain if she mentioned a book or a fact she found interesting.

He made her feel like she was melting, just by looking at her, it was so strange it was difficult enough for Hermione to believe herself.

The more time spent living in close quarters with Draco Malfoy the more aware she had become of him. He was attractive, there was no denying, and he always had been. But whereas before his vile personality had always made his appearance just that more off-putting, now the unattractive traits had been removed, Hermione simply couldn't stop staring.

It was unfamiliar ground, and she felt out of sorts. Attraction to Draco Malfoy was weird, and wrong, as was her revulsion of Ronald Weasley. It was like the world had been completely thrown off kilter, and Hermione did not like it.

Right now, Ron had threatened her into visiting everyone at the Gryffindor common room, despite the fact that she really did not want to be around him for longer than necessary. Not to mention Harry and Ginny might get suspicious... but did she want them to be? It was all so confusing.

She forced a light smile on her face, and laughed with conversation, keeping the bile from rising as she was ever-aware of Ronald Weasley's arm clutching her tightly to him on the sofa. Every time she tried to pull away, he pinched her firmly. Funny how that was commonplace for her now and how they seemed to get more and more painful as time went on.

The night wore on, and Hermione had barely spoken. Really, she was trying to distract herself and often found herself zoning out of the conversation. Harry didn't really notice but Ginny frowned at her slightly later in the evening.

"Hermione, are you alright? You've been awfully quiet." Hermione had been pulled from her trance as she heard Ginny say her name. She blinked at her before planting a well-practiced smile on her face.

"Oh I'm fine, not to worry, just a bit tired is all, been studying a lot, you know how it is." She said light-heartedly. Ginny studied her a moment more before smiling warmly and shrugging.

"Just over a month into the year and you're already revising yourself into an early grave; you need to relax." The discussion ended with an agreement from Harry and once again Hermione dazed off.

By the time the common room was nearly empty, Hermione zoned back in to notice Harry and Ginny were bidding her and Ron goodnight. Her stomach twisted.

No, no, no, no, no don't leave me with him oh Godric please no!

They did not hear her silent plea, as they retreated to Harry's private dorms – an eighth year perk.

Hermione started shaking slightly as she felt move in towards her and she moved to pull away, but his firm grip on her arm held her tight, and she winced, knowing she'll find bruises in the shape of his hand tomorrow morning. He was always bruising her. Marking her. It sickened her.

"Now, now, pet, where do you think you're going." He whispered, sickeningly close to her ear. She shuddered in disgust.

"My – my dorms... it's – it's getting quite late and I have to get up early tomorrow so I – can I go please?" she murmured meekly. She was ashamed that she had been reduced to this. Hermione Granger was not meek, and yet here she was, unable to look her friend in the eye.

"Tomorrow's a Saturday, we can lie in." She didn't miss the "we" and she had to summon all her will-power to keep from vomiting.

"I've got – uh – head girl duties, it's very important, and McGonagall would slaughter me if I was late, so I really must be going –" she moved to get up again, and this time Ron let her. Unfortunately, he stood with her, much too close for comfort, his hand still gripping her upper arm tightly.

"If it's really that important, pet, I'll walk you to your dorms," he grinned savagely at her "Merlin knows what could happen to a girl on her own in the darkened corridors of late night Hogwarts, don't you agree?"

Hermione silently noted the only person she'd be watching out for would be him, but nodded anyhow. She knew he'd never let her leave otherwise. Not to mention if she kept insisting she go alone, he may hurt her again.

Ron grinned at her, his eyes gleaming with malice, and he led her to the portrait hole, where they exited the warmth and relative safety of the common room. Hermione's heart jolted in panic as he kept a tight hold on her and led her through the silent, dark corridors.

Even without wandlight, Ron seemed to know where he was going, which Hermione found odd as she could barely see anything, yet Ron seemed confident enough as he guided her through the dark.

When she thought he might just be escorting her, and not inflicting any pain, he tugged her arm and roughly pushed her into a classroom, causing her to trip and fall, locking the door and casting a silencing charm behind him. Hermione's throat constricted and she cowered on the wooden floor beneath him.

Merlin, save me from this monster, bearing the face of my friend.

She shuffled away from him, trying in vain to get some distance between them. Ron strode over to her and booted her repeatedly in the stomach, his cold unapologetic eyes shining at her in the darkness. She groaned with each impact and he spat on her.

"Fucking Mudblood scum," He hissed, causing her to wince. This. Is. Not. Ron. She repeated the mantra in her head as she looked up at Ron. Whoever this person was, it was not Ron Weasley.

"You think you can deny me what I am owed?" he continued harshly "Deny me one more time, Mudblood, and I will take it from you. I think next time, you'll be a bit more compliant." He spat his words at her as he continued kicking her, causing her to hunch over in pain.

He snarled at her and stood on her hand, grinning when he heard a crack and she screamed.

"Look at you, right where you belong, on the ground with the rest of the fucking dirt." He spat on her quivering form again. She was clutching her hand to her chest, and tears streaked her cheeks. Sod pride, she was in pain.

Without warning, Ron roughly pulled her up by her collar, causing her to squeak. He pushed her up against the wall, gripping her by her neck. He leaned in close to her terrified face with a malicious grin.

"In fact, I rather do hope you deny me again. I would so love to take you as you scream in pain, pleading me to stop. You'll like it eventually, because you're a fucking whore, but how I'd love to steal your innocence." He laughed. He transferred his hand from her neck to her shoulder and leaned in closer, and tugged at the skin of her neck with his teeth, biting down hard so he broke skin. She whimpered.

"Ron, please." She pleaded and he pulled back to look at her, a gleam in his eye.

"Ooh the Mudblood speaks. How quaint. Haven't you learnt how inferior you are yet? No? Well I guess I better teach you."

And then, breaking the pattern, he punched her in the face, causing blood to spout from her nose. She cried out and he laughed at her.

"Pathetic." He hissed, and he punched her again, hitting her mouth this time, splitting her lip. She groaned in pain and he kneed her in the stomach.

Mercifully, he pulled back, and let her fall to the floor. He sneered at her.

"Be grateful, pet, it could have been a lot worse. You should be thanking me for being so merciful."

At that he left her there, in the dark empty classroom, crying silently on the floor.

Hermione had eventually stopped crying and hurriedly made her way towards her dorms, guided by shaky wandlight.

She had thought Malfoy would've gone to bed by now, and yet, to her dismay, as she entered the common room, it was lit by a lamp and a tired-looking Malfoy resided in an armchair, reading.

She stood in the doorway horror stricken as he glanced up at her. At the sight of her bloodied and bruised face he froze and stared with wide silver eyes. She didn't know what to do but stood stock still like a wild rabbit might under threat.

He rose quickly from the armchair, eyes stormy as he strode towards her. She didn't move as he examined her face. He looked into her eyes, which were wide and fearful. There was no way she could explain this.

"Granger," his voice was soft, but the underlying fury was evident "Who the fuck did this to you?" He was visibly shaken and she blinked before shaking her head slightly, attempting to side-step him.

"No one, Malfoy, I – uh – I fell..." she trailed off, and he growled quietly at her.

"Fuck Granger don't bullshit me!" he slammed the wall with his palm and she jumped in shock. He looked despairingly at her. "I'm not an idiot just please tell me who did this!" he pleaded with her. She shook her head again, more frantic this time. If she told, he'd kill her, she didn't want to die. She'd just survived a war and she wanted to keep going. Draco yelled out in frustration, stepping back from her and running his hand through his hair, looking at her with an expression that was just so pained.

He took a deep shuddering breath before he met her eyes with his own molten ones. The looks he was giving her were so intense Hermione just couldn't help but be captivated by them, couldn't help her heart twinge to see him look at her like that.

"Please, Hermione, please tell me who hurt you." She blinked at him as he used her first name. She clutched her broken hand to her chest and smiled sadly at him.

"Who do you think?" she said, voice hoarse and shaky. Malfoy's expression darkened and he searched her face. He growled, an animalistic sound rumbled from the back of his throat. Hermione stared at him, remembering his Veela heritage briefly. Maybe all Veela reacted this way to abuse?

"Weasley did this to you?" he said, voice low. Hermione just stared at him. Ron's going to kill me.

"I'll fucking kill that slimy bastard!" he slammed the wall again and yelled out again in anger. Hermione flinched and backed away from him.

"Malfoy, please, don't... he'll kill me please don't – don't do anything –" Hermione pleaded weakly with him. He stared at her and looked disgusted for a second. His expression turned pained as he regarded her.

"He – he hasn't..?" he let the question hang in the air and let Hermione fill in the blanks. She gulped and shook her head. Malfoy sighed in relief.

"But he... he threatens..." she trailed off. Oh Merlin she'd said too much, to someone she doesn't fully trust, and Ron was going to torture her for this. Malfoy's jaw clenched and he visibly shook in anger.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." He muttered, mostly to himself. Hermione took a hurried step towards him, wincing in pain. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could Malfoy was looking down on her, studying her intensely.

His fingertips trailed over her split lip, and she winced.

"Fuck, sorry, fuck..." his shoulders slumped and he looked thoughtful for a moment. Hermione didn't move from the close proximity. In a situation most would find intimidating, she found safe. Protected.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again.

"Will you... I... let me heal you, Granger, please." He said softly. Hermione looked up in shock. His anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface but his concern for her wellbeing had temporarily subdued it. She nodded, slightly, and he helped her to the sofa.

With delicate feather light touches, and a concentrated look on his face, Draco Malfoy, of all people, was healing Hermione Granger's cuts and bruises. He finished with her face and had fixed her hand gently, with care. He looked embarrassed for a moment, hesitating. She frowned.

"Malfoy?" he met her eye briefly.

"I – uh – need you to lift your shirt, unless, you know, he didn't... hurt you there?" he looked at her questionably. She flushed slightly.

"Oh right, um, yeah... but... don't get mad." He scowled at her and she winced slightly and lifted her shirt, her face bright red. His expression darkened.

Had her torso not been littered with bright bruising and welts, not to mention what looked to be old scars and bruises, Draco's Veela would have been purring right about now. However, it was raging, urging him to kill whoever did this to his mate.

He swallowed thickly and met her eyes with a murderous expression.

"How long has this been going on?" he said through gritted teeth. Hermione looked away sheepishly. She debated whether it was worth lying, and just decided to be truthful. She worried her newly healed lip and glanced at him warily.

"Since – uh – since the end of summer." His eyes seemed to take on a brighter silver as he glared at her bruised chest. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.

Heal now, kill later.

Wordlessly, he gently healed the recent bruises with his wand, and Hermione's laboured breathing seemed to ease up, as most of the pain ebbed away.

The silence hung in the air, broken only by the quiet breathing of the two. It was not suffocating, or heavy, but it was noticeable. It was not a comfortable silence, either, it was just silence.

He finished and he pulled her shirt down with a blank expression. He leant back into the cushions of the sofa and sighed. He looked weary and pained. Hermione frowned.

"I wish I could do more." He murmured, in a voice Hermione barely heard. She rested a hand on his arm and he glanced up at her. She smiled slightly at him.

"I think it's safe to say you've done more than enough." Draco smiled sadly at her.

"Why are you with him?" he asked her, in a strained voice. She winced and lowered her head.

"He said he'd kill me if I left," she clenched her jaw and met his eyes "But I'm afraid he has already done so." Hermione hadn't even realised this is what she had been thinking, but now that she thought about it, it was the truth. All he could do now is stop her from breathing, as her spirit, her courage, her fight, had already been crushed.

Draco stared at her intensely before he determinedly clasped her hands in his own.

"Then I guess someone has to resurrect you." She studied him briefly, before he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and pulled her to him. He wrapped his arms protectively around her, and to his delight, she did not pull away.

AN: I know she's being a bit dense not realising she's his mate but gah go with it you'd be in denial too if your former enemy was meant to be your soul mate. If I have made any mistakes, please let me know, and I'm sorry if the pacing is a bit slow, but I don't want to rush into things, I personally hate it when Dramione fics have them declaring their love for each other in a matter of a week they've hated each other for years it's not going to go so quickly.

I'M SORRY FOR THE RON BASHING I LOVE RON YOU'LL SEE SOON (maybe even next chapter) WHAT I HAVE IN STORE.

Thanks to all who have reviewed, favourited, or followed, please let me know what you think of it, everyone loves a bit of feedback for their work.