I own nothing, woe.

Warning: Pretty extreme violence.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Reunion

The Shrieking Shack was just as it had been the last time she had been inside. Hermione shivered. The same person she had been with last time was with her now, and the memories flooded her for a moment as she recalled exactly what had happened here so many months ago.

It was child's play compared to what would happen now.

It didn't make sense that he had brought her here. Why here, of all places? Hermione had expected to be taken back to the Manor, but she wasn't complaining. Not in the least. Once he took her back there would be no hope of ever leaving again; she had not forgotten about the wards that kept her from leaving his property. The second she stepped foot inside that place she would be as good as dead, but at least here she had a chance to fight back and she was prepared to take full advantage of that.

The heavy drumming of her heart pounded in her ears as he turned his back to her to place her wand (which he had torn from her grip when he had captured her) onto an old, worn table before turning back to face her.

The wildness, the unrestrained ferocity were permanent fixtures in his eyes now, he looked at her with no expression on his face and she had to struggle to not break eye contact though every part of her wished to.

There was no time to be afraid. This was what it came down to.

Slowly, he moved towards her and moving on instinct she shrank back but he kept coming, never taking his eyes from hers, moving until he had her trapped against him and the wall.

It took effort to breathe evenly when her heart and lungs were galloping ahead like horses. Hermione looked up at him passively, trying to convey a message with her eyes.

I am not afraid.

But that was hard to believe when she was shaking so, and when he could see right through the lie.

Liar, his eyes said. They almost glowed with the revelation.

The way she was tensed, the way those alert brown eyes watched him, he could tell she was waiting for him to attack. Perhaps he would have obliged her once, to set her at ease. But he owed her nothing now, of that she had made sure. No, he would take his time now, and watch her break down.

He stayed silent and still and Hermione grew nervous. Those cold eyes never left her and rarely blinked, trapping her under his gaze. Once Hermione tried to speak, for the silence had become unbearable, but the second she opened her mouth he raised his hand and covered her mouth with the tips of his fingers. The touch was gentle, not what she had expected, and she tore her eyes away from his at last, turning her head to rid herself of his touch.

"You thought you could run away from me." His voice was softer than she had ever heard it, she nearly missed his words entirely as she turned back to face him again.

"And you thought you could keep me against my will," she replied. "You were wrong."

Again, his hand wound its way up between them to grip her jaw tightly. Hermione sucked in a breath-her eyes were glued to his-she couldn't look away no matter how hard she tried. He came closer, and she jerked on instinct but all he did was frown.

"I see now I was too lenient with you," he said, and flexing his arm, he pushed her roughly to the floor. Hermione landed with a cry of pain; the skin on below her elbow had been scraped away to reveal an angry red wound that began to bleed. Behind her came the sound of his footsteps and frantically, Hermione tried to raise herself back up only to come back down hard when he pushed her down with his foot.

"Disobedient, ungrateful little bitch," he kicked her side. Hermione felt something crack inside her and cried out as he did it again. Again, he pushed her down and delivered another kick directly to her stomach, and unable to scream, Hermione curled into herself, shielding her front with her arms. The next one lifted her off the floor. She landed hard, and her whole body flared in protest but she still struggled to distance herself from him.

"You took Blaise from me," he said. "For that you'll suffer."

Hermione could only wheeze, her lungs were on fire. When she finally managed to sit up he swooped in close and snatched at her wrists, settling over her, and Hermione panicked. Letting out a wild, hysteric sound she bucked underneath him, and when he lost his balance she struck out at him with her legs, pushing him several paces backwards. His shout of anger made her double her efforts to get up and leave the room. She had just managed to get up on her knees when he moved in again, and knowing what was coming next, she tried to move away but his Crucio caught her all the same.

He watched as the pain consumed her, taking over her body and squeezing the tears from her eyes, the agonized screams from her throat. Her screams filled the room, roaring in his ears. The unnatural jerking and writhing of her body did not faze him; he had reminded himself he was doing this to teach her a lesson. She had to learn. A high keening escaped her, her body arched up and she slammed back down onto the floor, rolling onto her side to curl up in a ball as he ended the spell.

Her palms were bleeding-she had dug her nails into her flesh so hard as to cut through her skin. She could not control the shaking of her body. Draco had crouched down before her, grabbed a fistful of her hair close to her scalp and yanked her head up closer to his, wrenching a cry of pain from the pained witch. Briefly, her hands came up to his chest, and clenched on the fabric of his robes in a pleading manner but she didn't dare try to restrain him again for fear of another round with the torture curse.

"When I'm through with you, you'll be wishing you had never left me," he breathed. Hermione's eyes widened and she let out a strangled sob. "Don't worry, darling little bird," he pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth; she shook harder than ever beneath him. "I'll be thorough."

"Please-forgive me," she whispered haltingly, unable to stop herself. "Please, Draco, please." The words were just slipping out, she had no control over herself. "I'm sorry!"

He struck her and she cried out, falling silent as she held her bleeding palm to her cheek. Silently, he watched as she tried to stand again and he let her.

Once she was fully upright Draco stood too and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to a corner of the miserable room. Her whole body shook, and her arm flared with pain, but she made no sound.

"Time to go home," he said, and Hermione's insides turned to ice. He must have thought she'd looked hopeful, because he said, "You misunderstand me, sweetheart. Your punishment will only continue once we get there. It's time for you to learn your lesson once and for all."

His eyes drifted down and he moved to straighten the shoulder of her jumper, which had slipped down to reveal her bare shoulder. With a gentle hand he pulled it back up but his skin brushed against hers longer than it should have and the bile crawled up her throat. As he moved she caught a fleeting glimpse of her wand, which lay on the table just behind him and wholly within her reach.

This was her chance-but how could she get it without him noticing?

Bracing herself, Hermione reached up and placed her palm on his chest over his heart. He looked down sharply with mild surprise, his clear, frightening eyes locking onto hers suddenly, a raw need burning within their depths. The second their eyes met a horrible thrill ran through her, raising the hairs along her flesh. Hermione reached behind him slowly.

"Say it."

Hermione knew what he wanted her to say but she would not. She refused to feed him the lie he so craved, to say that her heart belonged to him. She would rather die than be forced to let those words past her lips again. She grasped her wand with trembling fingers, and struggled not to fumble it or make any noise.

"Say it."

His grip on her shoulder turned bruising. Hermione opened her mouth.

"Avada Kedavra."

A violent flash of green light tore through the room, illuminating his eyes eerily, perfectly capturing the shock and rage expressed on his face as he realized only a fraction too late what had happened. He fell to the floor heavily and Hermione stepped back, still clutching her wand.

Hermione stared at Draco Malfoy's lifeless body in shock, unsure of whether to laugh or cry.

I killed him.

She hadn't meant to. She hadn't, she really, truly hadn't.

The Stupefy had been ready on her lips but when she opened her mouth the Killing Curse came instead, pushing past the Defensive spell before she realized what was happening.

What would she do now? It hurt to breathe, black spots danced across her vision. What had she done? What had she done? Shouldn't this have made her feel better? She had gotten her wish; here was her attacker dead at last, by her own hand but she didn't know what she felt now except for the agonizing pain. Draco's accusing eyes stared up at her from where he lay on the ground.

Hermione stepped forward, and nearly jumped out of her skin at a loud bang from nearby outside the Shrieking Shack. There was a curious sound-a wounded animal? Someone was running towards the Shrieking Shack, coming closer and closer. Someone yelled something.

She couldn't help it-she panicked. The urge to flee was overwhelming, and finally, Hermione gave in. She turned on her heel, ignoring the pain that simple movement caused, and vanished.

Arthur Weasley made his way past the gate and through the garden slowly, rubbing his sore back. A horrible, hectic day it had been. The Battle had taken hours, but had flown by faster than a Snitch and by the end of it he had lost one son and many friends. The recuperation efforts had begun immediately after, starting with the cleanup and restoration of the castle and tending to the injured. The boys had gone about searching the castle for something and someone they wouldn't name, but had found neither one, and eventually returned to the castle, silent and forlorn. The twins had accompanied Ginny and Charlie in the cleanup of the castle while Bill and Molly and he assisted in the healing. Then he had had to go to the Ministry to clear a few things up and grab his coat before finally heading home to the Burrow.

Grief for his son Percy weighed down his feet and slowed his movements, blurring his eyes with hot tears. His good, valiant son, who had returned to fight with them into the battle, only to be slain by the enemy. He regretted that he had not been there to hold his son, that he, not Fred and George, had been the one to see the killer's blood spilled on the floor. But it didn't really matter now. Percy was dead and so was the elder Goyle, and he had nothing to do but grieve.

The cool summer night brought radiance into Molly's tidy little garden; he could hear the crickets and the other wee insects happily chirping away into the mist that settled above the ground. The lights were on in the Burrow-it was very late, and yet no one had gone to sleep, apparently.

He would be the first, then. Sleep was what he needed. Sleep, and silence. But those were the two things he knew for certain he would not get that night. Arrangements for a funeral had to be made. Molly needed comforting. The twins had locked themselves into their room right after they had come home, he knew they needed assurance that their brother's death had not been caused by them for distracting him. Harry and Ron needed time to be alone-Harry especially. What that poor boy had gone through-Arthur shook his head sadly. He could not spend all night out here thinking. There were things to be done.

Upon reaching the back door, however, Arthur stopped short. There was someone there, lying on their side and curled up in the fetal position. Horror-struck, Arthur stepped forward, grabbing his wand. Ginny? What had happened to her?

But it wasn't Ginny, he realized as he came closer. This person had long, decidedly not ginger hair. A tattered jumper revealed heavily bruised skin and bloody wounds.

Astonishment was not sufficient enough to describe how Arthur felt. The person was pale as death, and shaking badly. It was difficult to tell if she was even breathing. Whoever this was, she needed help now.

Without another thought Arthur picked her up into his arms, preparing to enter the house. A whimper of pain came from the girl and he opened his mouth to apologize when she lifted her head and her eyes opened, and his apology died in his throat, for he had at last recognized Hermione Granger.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," she said. Her voice was hoarse and hardly above a whisper and her eyes were more than a little distant. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it last Christmas." And then she fainted.

A/N:

One step closer to the end.

I know some of you guys may be upset because of Draco's death and I do apologize, but please don't stop reading just because of that. There are many more twists and turns coming up, I assure you.

Reviews are always welcome.

-Charlotte