Home

by honeysweetcutie

DARK but happy ending. Three years ago, Voldemort won and destroyed Great Britain. Hermione Granger has lost everything except the orphan she took under her wing after the war, and she does whatever she can to survive. One day, Draco Malfoy happens by their place on the sidewalk and something possesses him to transfigure them a blanket. [trigger warnings, non-con]

15. Part Fourteen

Hi. So I love you guys for your comments. I'm floored by the love.

I have replaced the previous chapter's author's note with a deleted scene! Please go back and read i!

My Tumblr is honeysweetcutie

My FB writing group is HoneySweetWriting

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Thank you so much to the members of my FB writing group for their endless support.

Thank you to the lovely Melissa C from the group for providing all these FANTASTIC mood boards for Home, too! Go back through each chapter and check out her moodboards, they are amazing! (on AO3, not FF)

And thank you most of all to my beloved beta, mayghaen17 for providing me with strength in this trying time. If it weren't for her, I probably would have quit Dramione this past week. Please go check out her stories! They are amazing and lovely and you will thoroughly enjoy them!

Health related information spoken about in this chapter is all personal experience from my ED before recovery! I did some medical research for a foundation as well. I did not mention anything I do not have personal experience with! So even if it seems "wrong" to you, it is not "wrong" because it happened to my body. Therefore, it exists.

Filthy smut ahead.

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Rasmus Goyle Sr. fancast: Mads Mikkelson

Celeste Goyle fancast: Julianne Moore

Part Fourteen

The Hunger by Bat For Lashes, Schwagger by VUKOVI, Sudden Desire by Hayley Williams, Mad At Me by Kiana Lede, and Simmer by Hayley Williams

Mrs. Goyle wasn't anything like Hermione had expected, but then again, she hadn't really expected anything. Sometimes it surprised her, how normal the Death Eaters looked behind their masks. How they were regular people, just witches and wizards who managed to choose the winning side in the war.

"Celeste, I'm afraid we need you for Miss Granger," Goyle Sr. said with a hint of irritation to his tone. He was standing in the center of the room, hands on his hips like he was disappointed in a child.

Theo sat perched in a chair very similar to the armchairs in Draco's quarters, the blood being cleaned from his face by a dour looking House Elf. The elf had a bluish tint to its wrinkled skin, and it did not look up when Draco and Hermione Apparated in. Theo did, however, and his disposition was negative. His glasses were lost to him, so he looked more like the Theo she remembered from school.

Hermione's eyes met his and she quickly looked away. She knew what would have happened had Draco not made it through the wards in time.

Celeste came walking out of a room that adjoined the current one, holding a leather bag in one hand. Her chest-length hair was crimson red and she had the sort of face that wore its emotions naked no matter what the situation. Her eyebrows were almost pale enough to be invisible, set low over a set of sea-green eyes. She waved her free hand anxiously.

"Just bring them all to me like it's St. Mungo's, then." She shot Draco a scathing look. "Well, don't just stand there like a drooling troll. Put the girl on the chaise!"

Draco tensed but did as he was told, setting Hermione gingerly on the leftmost cushion of the small couch. Clothing till damp from the snow, she shivered as her body struggled to raise its temperature to the temperature in the warm room. She glanced around quickly, astonished at how much more elaborate and expensive-looking the decor was in the Goyle's quarters compared to Draco's. She'd always thought of Draco as being the most ostentatious person she'd ever met, but here she was, and she felt like she was sitting in a room that belonged to royalty.

Celeste reached into her bag and handed something to the House Elf. Hermione distantly recognized it as Essence of Dittany, which the elf began to use it on a deeper than normal gash on Theo's face. Hermione couldn't help the small bit of satisfaction she felt at seeing it.

"What happened?" Celeste asked. "Boys? Rasmus?"

"Nothing," Goyle Sr., Theo, and Draco said simultaneously.

Celeste looked directly at her husband with a deadpan expression. "You expect me to believe that what, she fell off a broom?"

"Celeste," Goyle Sr. said with a heavy sigh. "You know the sorts of trouble these boys get into. Now, Miss Granger's obviously got something broken. She needs assistance."

Hermione jolted and looked up at him briefly. Miss Granger. That was the second time he had referred to her by her name, and not just as Draco's property. Outside, he'd referred to her as Draco's slave, but here in the room, she was "Miss Granger." She wondered what that meant.

Celeste inspected Theo's face and then waved her wand. She read the hazy images of his vitals that appeared in the air.

"Hm, Draco," she said with a hum. "You nearly killed him."

"How?" He strode over to inspect the images himself. Theo bristled when he did, and Goyle Sr. was quick to step slightly in front of Draco in silent warning. Draco ignored him, however, and peered down at the smoke. "Explain."

"You hit him here." Celeste pointed at Theo's nose, right at the underside of it. Then, she pointed at something in the smoke that Hermione either couldn't see or couldn't discern. "And that is the point in his brain that the bone almost slid into."

"That close, huh?" Hermione almost forgot herself and her situation, nearly rolling her eyes. She could hear the smug tone in his voice. It was every bit the Draco Malfoy of their Hogwarts years, which felt so far away that she wasn't even sure they were the same people.

Celeste gave him a once-over and Hermione noticed there were sparks in the air around her. "Yes, that close. You boys sicken me sometimes with your penchant for violence and your inherent bloodlust. You could have killed him!"

Draco stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. "Wouldn't be that great of a loss."

"You won't get the chance again," Theo snarled, and then he winced and touched a ginger hand to his face. "And he nearly did kill me. Got about half the killing curse out before he was stopped."

"Well," she huffed, pointing the wand at Theo's nose. "Episkey. Draco, try to keep your desires in check."

There was an uncomfortable silence that settled over the room as Goyle Sr., Celeste, and Draco all averted their eyes from one another. Hermione's brows twitched together. On the surface, her sentence was inconspicuous, but the energy in the room felt tense.

"And you need to keep your hands to yourself," Celeste snapped to Theo, one hand on her hip as she glared down at him. "And your wand. And your other little wand. The Dark Lord made it painfully clear what happens when you cross the Malfoys. You'd do well to keep that in mind the next time you covet something of his."

"He knows better," Goyle Sr. said, his voice coming out as a growl. "He just seems to have forgotten his place. Which is why we're going straight to the Dark Lord."

Celeste huffed and then reached into the bag that she'd charmed to follow her around in the air. She pulled out a small vial. "You can leave in a moment, once this potion kicks in. It'll mend the rest of the damage in your skull."

Theo drank it quickly, then glared at the air in front of him for a moment. His eyes then snapped to Hermione's. They burned into her, but she drew her shoulders back and sat up straight. She hadn't realized just how much sway the Malfoy name held, hadn't realized the sort of protection that belonging to him offered her. She also hadn't realized how deeply Theo's hatred ran for Draco, for both of the Goyles to give him warnings.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione realized that gave her power. She didn't know how, or whether or not she could use it, but it was there.

Miss Granger, desire, crossing the Malfoys, and newfound power. They all felt like random puzzle pieces in a drawer. She would tuck them inside and save them until she gathered enough pieces to put the puzzle together. Then, she would have answers.

Celeste returned to where Hermione sat, sitting down beside her on the chaise. She held out a hand, giving Hermione a kind-hearted smile that disarmed her.

"Let's see it, then," she said, and the sharp tone she'd used to the boys was completely gone. The ice had melted and Hermione felt a tingle running across her skin. The sort of tingle that she felt when strangers would put money in their cup on the street.

Hermione slowly lifted her hurt wrist, grimacing in pain as Celeste looked it over. She twirled her wand a bit and the hazy images appeared again, floating in the air beside her arm like colorful smoke. Hermione looked at them, but they didn't make any sense to her. The elder witch's lips twisted downward in disapproval.

"She has a broken wrist . . ." she said.

"And there's more," Goyle Sr. said in a thoughtful voice. It was a statement; not a question.

Theo was no longer glaring at Draco and was instead now staring intently at Hermione. Draco drifted towards the chaise until he was standing directly beside her. His arms remained crossed and his facial expression had hardened.

Celeste's shrewd gaze traveled to meet her husband's for a moment before she spoke again. Hermione felt uneasiness twisting in her gut. The air seemed brittle again.

"You are aware of the Dark Lord's rules in regards to slaves, Draco?"

"I am," Draco bit out. He lifted one hand. His fingers began to lightly smooth out Hermione's curls on one side. She recognized it as fussing, but she didn't flinch or otherwise shrink away.

It was only after she realized that Goyle Sr. was watching them with his eyebrows raised that it was probably abnormal to see one of the slaves be treated this way. Which then made her wonder how many other Death Eaters had slaves and what they were treated like. And then she wondered who they might be and if any of them were friends from Hogwarts, and if -

"Then you know that unless given permission to do otherwise, you must ensure their health, safety, and nutrition." Celeste waved her wand and vanished Hermione's information from the air.

Health, safety, and nutrition? Hermione barely managed to keep herself from pulling a face. Voldemort was the most confusing person. He enslaved people, passing them around like a bread basket, and moving them around like pawns on a chessboard, yet he wanted them to be well taken care of?

"I'm aware," Draco said.

Hermione looked up at him as his fingers brushed against his cloak on her shoulder. He was looking at Celeste with a cold look in his eyes. Hermione gulped. She'd seen that look before, and it was dangerous.

"You went to Hogwarts and took Potions class, correct?" Celeste said, and then she cast a silent spell to keep Hermione's hand trapped in midair. Hermione tried to ignore the pain, but it was starting to wear on her.

"Obviously," Draco drawled. He looked angry.

"Then you know that broken bones are fixed with -"

"Skele-Gro, yes."

Celeste's eyes flashed and she returned his glare. "Do not interrupt me. If you know that broken bones are fixed with Skele-Gro, and you know that the Dark Lord has rules about the health of your property, then why are her bones as brittle as tree bark?!"

Hermione sucked in her breath. All eyes were drawn to Celeste as she effectively exploded in a way that so painfully reminded Hermione of Ginny that her heart wrenched. She hated knowing that she was so close to her and might not ever get to see her.

Draco cursed and looked off to the side. Hermione wondered why he wasn't telling them the truth about her issues with food. Celeste scowled.

"Draco, what in Salazar Slytherin's bloody beard are you doing to her? You're going to kill her if you do not feed her! She's showing signs of osteopenia, her blood sugar is dangerously low, and she has an irregular heartbeat. Look at her arm!" She jerked her head in Hermione's direction, towards the arm that was still charmed in the air in front of her. "Lanugo. Hair - all over her forearms that is way thicker than it should be. And fuck's sake . . . She looks like a skeleton."

Draco looked stunned and then, as quick as lightning, his face contorted with rage.

"She's only been in my care for two weeks! How could two weeks of malnourishment cause those issues?"

Celeste opened her mouth to retort, and then she closed it. She huffed angrily and put her hands on her hips, still holding her wand. "Two weeks couldn't cause the problems, and I do recognize that. But two weeks could exacerbate underlying issues, and two weeks is enough to have her at a more stable place. It's clear that you have not been taking care of her."

Hermione felt guilt welling up within her. It wasn't his fault she was sick. She was already malnourished when she came to the palace, and she'd only gotten worse since arriving. Draco had been trying so hard to get her to eat. It wasn't his fault.

Goyle Sr. looked stern, his hands on his hips as well, and Theo was watching the events unfold with a tiny smirk on his face. Hermione knew that couldn't bode well.

"Wait," she started, sitting up straighter and looking to Celeste. "He hasn't -"

Draco shot her a warning glance, holding up one finger to silence her. Then, he returned his glare to Celeste.

"I'm not starving her, if that's what you're implying," he snarled.

"Skele-Gro is not a magical cure-all. It doesn't grow bone from the ether." Celeste waved a hand about to emphasize her words. It was clear she did not believe him. "It draws from nutrients already present in the body as well as the magical core, and it uses them both to speed up production of the soft and hard calluses. Without the nutrients, there's no energy to draw from. If I gave her the potion now, the calluses would always be brittle!"

Hermione swallowed. She had other injuries in her body that she could feel, but now it felt wrong to bring attention to them. Judging by the way something was working in the clench of Draco's jaw, this situation was serious.

Fear curdled her blood and her gaze dropped from the scene in front of her to where Theo sat. He looked beside himself with glee, like hiding a smile was causing him terrible strain. Hermione tried to remain calm.

"I'm struggling with some things," was all Draco said. "But she will eat."

Celeste shook her head, appearing disgusted. "She'll need a traditional splint and bandages. I'm also going to give you a nutrition potion to give her, and I'll send some more up after I brew it."

Draco frowned. "I can -"

"No," Celeste said in a sharp voice. "You will not be brewing any potions for her, nor will your House Elf be preparing her anymore meals. I will see to that myself. Miss Granger?"

Hermione started, tearing her eyes away from the thoroughly miffed Draco, whose fists were clenched at his sides tight enough to cause white knuckles.

"Yes, Mrs. Goyle?"

Celeste smiled at her and sat down beside her again. "Consider me your newest Primary Care Healer. It's been a bit since you had one of those, hasn't it?"

Hermione gulped again. Celeste seemed like a kind woman, but she didn't know the truth. She didn't understand.

"It . . . Has," Hermione stammered, shooting Draco another glance before returning it to her Healer. "Really, though, it's not his fault."

Draco's hand landed lightly on her shoulder. "Granger."

Hermione closed her mouth when she detected the thread of warning dangling over his words. Celeste was kind and Goyle Sr. called her by her name, but that did not mean they could be trusted. Draco and Hermione were playing a dangerous game within the walls of Voldemort's palace - one that not even Blaise Zabini had been given full access to. If Draco thought it best that they believed he was starving her, then she supposed she had better let it be.

She just hoped he was making the right decision.

Celeste waved her wand and whispered another episkey charm. Hermione felt thin strands of magic weaving through her wrist, but she could tell that it wouldn't be enough, that it was just to stabilize the limb. She watched as Celeste conjured a wooden splint that was the perfect length with a conjuration charm and then charmed a roll of white cloth bandaging from her healer bag. She began to wrap Hermione's wrist, and the girl struggled not to flinch and wince from the pain.

"Miss?" The blue House Elf stood there. "I've finished with Mr. Nott."

"Yes," Celeste said as she wrapped the bandages tight. "Go down to the kitchens and find a House Elf that has less chores - tell them that I have instructed them to be the only one to provide meals to Draco Malfoy's slave."

"Yes, miss." Pop.

Hermione felt a small bit of panic rush through her. If another elf prepared her food, then she would be expected to eat it. She wasn't ready. She knew she wasn't ready, but did she have a choice any longer?

"Drink the nutrition potion every day, twice a day," Celeste said. As she spoke, a vial of glowing, green liquid came floating out to hover in the air near Hermione's face. "That one. Go ahead and take it, Miss Granger."

Carefully, Hermione did. The cork twisted itself off. She hesitated, looking up at Draco as though she needed or wanted permission. If these people couldn't be trusted with the truth, then could she really trust Celeste to give her potions?

Draco gave her a short nod, his teeth still tightly clenched and lips sewn shut.

She drank it. It tasted of apples and a myriad of things Hermione could only describe as bitter. She pulled a face as the icy cold liquid slid down her throat. She took a deep breath, surprised that she felt no guilt.

The potion is okay, she told herself. The potion isn't food.

"That potion has everything you need to get better," Celeste said when the bandages were sealed. She nixed the hovering charm and Hermione took her arm back.

Hermione nodded. "Will it heal my bones?"

Celeste shook her head and when she spoke, she sounded sad. "Osteopenia doesn't usually reverse, but once we get you back to a healthy weight and your nutrition is stable, then your bone density can stabilize. Which means it won't get worse. I'm afraid your wrist will never be as strong as it once was, and the rest of your bones will remain at risk for fracture. But the main concern is your heart and your blood sugar. Once you begin a steady diet and your weight becomes healthy, then we should see some improvements."

Hermione bit her lower lip, suddenly feeling like she wanted to curl in on herself. She felt like there were hundreds of eyes on her, when in reality, there were only Goyle Sr.'s, Draco's, Celeste's, and Theo's.

"What else will improve?"

Celeste smiled again. "Your hair, skin, and nails will get stronger. The hair on your arms should reduce in thickness. Your body will obviously become stronger, and your weight will go up. Your blood sugar can always improve, provided there's no underlying issues. When was your last menstruation?"

Hermione cheeks flared. "Years ago. Before the war ended. I was . . . Stressed."

"That's understandable. Once your weight returns to a healthy state, I'm sure it will return. Bowel movements?"

Hermione thought she might faint, speaking about this sort of stuff in front of a room full of men. But she knew better than to show it. As far as these people were concerned, she was a slave. Property. Barely human.

Reminding herself of this fact was enough to bring some strength back to her. Knowing who she was had always given her strength and if that's what she was to them - to the Death Eaters - then she would act like she had accepted her role. She sat up straighter.

"I only have them once a week or so, but it's been this way for a long time," she said. "I haven't experienced any adverse effects."

"That should resolve with the potion. It's chock-full of fiber." Celeste chuckled, as though this really were a healer's appointment at St. Mungo's. "As for the things that won't improve, there may be a chance for your heart to improve, but I'm afraid that there will always be cause for concern where the muscle is concerned."

"Did you see something in my vitals?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Celeste said. "The spell that I use is very thorough. I can see that your heart is smaller than it should be, and the beat is irregular. It may not be completely noticeable to you, but if you try holding your breath, you may feel it happening more acutely. A regular heartbeat should be thump-thump-thump. Yours is thump-and then it stops-thumpthumpthump. It beats faster to catch up with itself."

Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit frightened. It was at this point that she realized Draco's hand was still on her shoulder. He tightened his hold on her and morbidly, she imagined that they really were at a typical healer's appointment.

Strangely, she felt comforted by his touch. Like she wasn't as alone as she felt in this place.

"Now," Celeste said, folding her hands in her lap, "Tell me. How have your thought processes been?"

Hermione fought the urge to exchange glances with Draco. They weren't two mates at Hogwarts, and this was serious. She was sick, sicker than she realized, and being faced with it was opening her eyes. She knew she wasn't going to get better overnight, but it helped for her to know exactly what was going on. Once she knew, she could work on extricating her emotions from the food itself. The nutrition potions alone were going to be massively helpful.

She wondered if she could get away with consuming nothing but the potions, but she knew that could possibly be detrimental to Draco. She'd have to file it away for later.

She started to reply, but Goyle Sr. suddenly began to move.

"I'll take this one to the Dark Lord for an audience," he said in a slightly gruff tone. He shot Draco a look. "Take better care of His Majesty's gifts to you, Draco. Next time I see something like this happening - or if my wife tells me she's not getting better - I'll have no choice to report you to Him."

Draco said nothing, and Hermione was too busy staring at the malicious smirk that had twisted Theo's features.

She worried they might not get the chance to get her better.

Goyle Sr. took Theo by the wrist and with a crack, they Apparated away.

"Miss Granger?" Celeste said.

Hermione blinked. "Right. Well, they're slow. I'm not thinking clearly."

Draco's hand tightened again. Hermione felt her guilt sharpen itself until it cut into her.

"I've done things I never would have done had I been healthy," she said, lowering her eyes. "Things I regret."

Draco's hand moved away from her shoulder.

Celeste said, "That's to be expected. You're severely malnourished - to the point where sleeping for hours, fainting and dizzy spells, and unclear thought processes are normal." She patted Hermione's knee in a mother-like fashion. "Don't fret. You will be well again. The Dark Lord is not a barbarian - he doesn't allow his followers to end the lives of slaves. Think of yourself and others like you as . . . Chosen. There are a select amount, and they are not killed unnecessarily."

Hermione bit down on the inside of her cheek. Voldemort was worse than a barbarian. He was a maniac.

"Do you have any other injuries that I didn't catch?" Celeste asked, pulling her wand out.

Hermione shook her head. She just wanted to get back to the room. This whole situation was humiliating enough. She didn't want Draco to have to hear the gritty details of what Theo had done to her. He'd scratched her inner walls and it was sore as Hell, but she figured a nice, hot bath would help the healing along and then she could put the entire thing behind her. She had enough to deal with, what with the prospect of being forced to eat again.

She'd also been holding in a volley of tears that desperately needed to come out, and the only way she was doing that was in the bath.

"Can we take our leave?" Draco asked. He sounded annoyed.

Celeste shot him a scathing look. "You may. The potions will be brewed and delivered tomorrow - enough to last for thirty days, and then I want to see her here again for a check-up. D'you understand me, Draco?"

Draco sneered and then took Hermione by the elbow, gently pulling her to her feet. She looked at Celeste for a moment and then, she decided to smile. It was only a small smile - one of gratitude and relief at finding someone amongst Voldemort's ranks who wasn't a complete demon - and it was one that she felt right to give.

Celeste returned it.

The pull of Apparition brought the room and Celeste's smiling face twisting out of focus.

xxx

Hermione stumbled as they landed, Draco's hand on her elbow being the only thing that held her up.

The silence felt awkward.

Hermione didn't know what to say. To have what could only be described as a nice time interrupted so brutally and violently by Theodore Nott was overwhelming. She hadn't had such a genuinely pleasant time in years. Of course, every moment she spent with her daughter was pleasant, but it was a different sort of pleasant. Heer times with her daughter were always tinged with desperation and an underlying sadness that said this is how it has to be. With Draco, it had felt like they were just two young adults messing about in the snow.

Like they were on a date.

The sheer volume of revelations that had been dumped upon her that day were making her head spin. She felt a bit dizzy, and she was sure it couldn't only be attributed to her poor health. Not only was she starting to think that Draco fancied her in some for a time before the war ended - possibly even after - but she was starting to think that her betrayal of him had scarred him in a very deep, very visceral way.

It was hard, not knowing the truth behind it all. She was fairly certain she fancied him, too, and that was horrifying because the last thing she wanted was to fall for her captor. She remembered that much from all of the books she'd read as a teenage witch.

It was difficult, separating fact from fiction.

And everything Theo had said. From his admittance of watching her and Draco in the Library - which she really couldn't be that shocked about, since it was essentially a public place - to his hatred of Draco for some perceived betrayal of his own, it was clear that the two were not the friends they used to be at Hogwarts. Who was the woman Theo had spoken of, the one he hadn't wanted Draco to talk about? What did Theo want that Draco had supposedly stolen from him?

Draco's response scared her the most. The violence. The fact that he'd almost cast the killing curse.

How much of it was him playing a role, and how much was real?

Slowly, Hermione lifted her eyes to his.

He gazed down at her, letting go of her elbow. "It was better they thought it was my fault. If they think you have some sort of autonomy, they might tell the Dark Lord. We don't want that."

Hermione nodded, still eyeing him. He'd said he was going to snog her senseless in the snow. That he'd always find her. That he'd made it clear to Theo multiple times "over the past three years" that she belonged to him.

What did that mean?

"Theo knew I wasn't wearing the collar," she said, clearing her throat to push past her nerves. "Even though my cloak was fastened."

Draco frowned and combed his hair back from his forehead. "Maybe it was a coincidence. You were running about freely - he might have assumed."

Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't want to worry over things too much, but something nagged at her about that. She wasn't so sure he had made an assumption, but she knew it was best not to dwell on things. In the grand scheme of things, it was better that she hadn't had the collar on. She didn't know if the collar was attuned to just Draco or to all people in authority over her, but she knew she was happy she hadn't had to deal with the risk.

They stared at one another. Hermione felt like her lungs were expanding to the point of bursting inside of her chest.

"What were your last two secrets?" she blurted out.

His brows twitched together. His eyes searched her face. "What?"

"From the game." She exhaled sharply. "What were the last two secrets you would have said, if I hadn't . . . If you hadn't found me?"

He held her gaze for a moment, the fingers of one hand playing with the satin cord that kept his cloak tied shut. There was blood on his knuckles.

"I only had one more," he said quietly, staring at the floor as if he were unable to tear his gaze off of it.

"What was it?"

"You."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Her mind rushed at her, showing her image after image of all the moments she could have missed him staring at her. Missed chances for reconciliation of their past in the Great Hall, in Potions class, in the hallways, at Quidditch games. Opportunities for redemption, to save Dumbledore, to avoid the future they were currently enduring.

He didn't have to say it. The only reason why she was safe the night the Death Eaters stormed the castle, the reason why she'd lived that fateful evening in the Malfoy Manor, and why she was standing in his quarters right then was because of him. She was the secret he never meant to tell, and would probably never utter again.

Hermione lifted her hand, pausing for a moment, and then reached for his hand. She wrapped her fingers around his, pulling it away from his cloak and holding it low between them. Her guilt at hurting him was rising higher and higher within her body, but she held it back and said the only thing she had the strength to say.

"Thank you, Draco."

She steeled herself, took another deep breath, and lifted her chin until her eyes met his again.

"I'm sorry for not trusting you. I'm sorry that I haven't been taking care of myself. And . . ." She wanted to look away, but she forced herself to look up into eyes that were completely closed off to her with either hatred or Occlumency - or possibly both. "I'm truly, truly sorry that I betrayed you."

He said nothing.

Then, Hermione stood up as straight and as proud as she could, preparing herself for the next thing she had to say.

"I'm truly sorry for all of those things, but I won't use my body as collateral anymore. I can make amends to you in whichever way you wish - but I can't give my body to you the way that . . . What we've been doing, the Library . . . I can't do that anymore." Her cheeks burned. She held his gaze. "If you're never going to forgive me, that's fine - I won't ever stop trying to make amends. But I won't do it with my body."

Draco blinked and then, all at once, she saw the immense tangle of emotions that he was experiencing inside of his eyes. She felt his hand wrap tighter around hers, so tight that it hurt her fingers, and she sucked in her breath.

He looked devastated.

Why?

"You might not have a choice," he whispered.

His gaze dropped down to her lips and lingered there for three long, agonizing seconds. Seconds during which Hermione was so certain that he was going to kiss her that her lips began to tingle.

But then the insinuation behind his words hit her. What did he mean by her not having a choice? She flashed back to the day he'd almost taken her on the floor, to the terror and panic. To how angry he'd been. He'd been trying to show her how things could be, but was that just the truth of how things were going to be?

Disturbed, Hermione's head drew back on her shoulders. What did that mean?

He dropped her hand and then she saw his walls come back up. He turned away from her, angrily untying the lacing on his cloak. He seemed agitated - incredibly agitated.

"You're starting to bruise. Your eyes, your nose, your face . . . He struck you."

"He did," she said, untying her own cloak. She walked over to set it on the table. "You were going to kill him."

"I . . ." He sighed. "Yeah."

Hermione, now that he'd reminded her that Theo had punched her multiple times, felt a throbbing ache starting in various places on her face.

"You said you didn't like the person you were becoming. The person I was making you into," she said, her eyes following him as he pulled out one of the table chairs and sank down into it. "So why don't you just send me to someone else?"

He didn't answer. He placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward to hang his head between his hands. It was all so confusing: the revelations about the past, the fact that she was here in the palace, his comment that she might not have a choice, how easily he'd slid into the Master role. She was angry.

"Why don't you just send me to someone else?!" Hermione cried, cradling her broken wrist against her sternum absentmindedly.

His head snapped up, and his eyes burned with the white-hot intensity of one thousand suns.

"Because you're mine, Granger. You've been mine. You're always gonna be mine. And I won't let anyone else see you the way I do. I won't let anyone else have you, do you understand?"

His words had nothing to do with roles, and she knew that.

She didn't know what they meant, but everything that had happened between them and everything that had yet to happen between them was enough for her to know where they stood. The way things were going, the things they'd done together. The way he'd reacted to Theo's attacking of her. Their discussion about the Amortentia. Everything.

Sooner or later, she would be his.

"Okay," she whispered. Hermione felt her knees begin to tremble.

He returned his face to his hands. "Okay? What does that mean?"

"I'm yours."

The silence crackled with energy and then he slowly lifted his head from his hands again. His eyes narrowed up at her.

"Almost."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she took one step backward. Was he going to ignore her earlier words? She'd said she wouldn't give her body any longer.

Was he going to take it?

"Almost?"

A fire burned in his eyes - one that she felt searing her skin.

"For you to be mine, Granger, I'd have to claim all of you."

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her broken wrist held against her abdomen and her other hand trailing along the sharpness of her collarbone to anchor herself against the storm of emotions she was experiencing.

He slowly stood up and stepped away from his chair. The fire intensified.

"Your mind." He took a step closer. "Your body." His eyes roved down and then back up, and he took two more steps. "Your heart."

Hermione's head fell back slightly as he took the final step and loomed over her. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Aurora has my heart," she said, her voice breaking.

Draco tilted his head to the side, studying her with scorching hot inquisition. She flinched with surprise when his hand suddenly came up to trail its fingers along the length of her jaw. His eyebrows rose.

"You'll be mine when you realize that it's not just your body that I'm after. Your heart and your soul are mine. All of your heart. Even the parts of it that belong to her."

Hermione froze. "You would take me away from her? You would take her from me?"

He shook his head slowly, his hand curling around the underside of her jaw and chin.

"No," he murmured. "There's more than enough room for both of you."

"Enough room where?" Hermione's vision blurred.

Draco took her unhurt hand in his and pressed it against his chest. She saw the walls come down in his eyes and the fire no longer burned her. It reinforced her with strength and resolve to not only trust him, but to get better.

"Here," he whispered, and then he pulled her forward by the chin and kissed her.

Hermione felt her body tense for a moment, memories of Theo dancing across the plains of her mind, and then his words soaked in. Whether Aurora was alive or not - he was saying his heart was big enough for her, too. Her or her memory, Aurora meant something to him because she meant something to Hermione. Her tears spilled over on her cheeks and pressed into his skin as she pushed herself up on tip-toe to kiss him back.

Just before she could part her lips and try to deepen the kiss, his mouth pulled back. He took a strangled, ragged breath, pressing his forehead to hers. His hand wrapped tighter around hers, holding it firm against his chest. She opened her eyes to see that his were squeezed shut.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Fuck," he whispered, sounding overcome. "Everything is - everything. I can't . . . Breathe around you."

Hermione blinked and moved her head back to look up at him fully. "What?"

"I hate that he had his hands all over you," he growled, and then his eyes snapped open. They were blazing again, an inferno of desire raging within them that startled Hermione. "You're fucking mine."

And then his hands were on either side of her head, his lips canting down over hers as he followed through on his promise in the hedge maze. He snogged her senseless, moaning in the back of his throat the moment her lips fell open for him. Together, they stumbled until her back hit the bedpost. Keeping her broken wrist safe at her side, she clenched her other fist in the fabric of his top and pulled him as close as she could get him.

Hermione quickly realized that any semblance of control she thought she had gained in the past five minutes was gone. It was gone, or it was shattered, or maybe it had never existed before. His tongue swept through her mouth, his head turning from one side to the other as he showed her exactly who was in control of not only the kiss but her entire life. Her knees went weak and she whimpered as his teeth nipped her lower lip. His hands were slender but warm as they carded their fingers through her curls.

She gasped for breath when he pulled back for a moment and looked down at her. There were only millimeters between them. She felt like she was floating in the ocean during a hurricane, like he was pulling her down to the bottom of the sea to drown in him. She couldn't breathe, either.

His eyes were dark with pure, unadulterated lust.

"Draco," she said meekly. She pushed lightly at his chest. "Perhaps . . ."

He staggered backward, scrubbing his face with his hands. "Yes. Yeah. Just . . . Yes."

Hermione eyed him. Something didn't seem right with him, but she couldn't place her finger on what it could be. In any case, she didn't want to dwell. Her face hurt worse now, and the scratches Theo's fingernails had inflicted within her body felt like they were starting to smart. The sooner she could get into the bath, the better. Then she could cry and process and sort.

"I need a bath," she said, looking away from him. "Can you-"

He practically ripped his wand out of his sleeve, staying turned away from her. With a flick of his wrist, he said, "Wards are down. Doors are charmed to stay open."

Hermione stared at the bathroom behind her in astonishment. "Are you -"

"I'm sure!" His voice lashed at her and she flinched again, confused at the sudden turn in mood. "Just . . . Go."

Hermione hurried away, marveling at the fact that he was finally allowing her to bathe without someone accompanying her. She turned on the water and began to fill the tub, and then hurried to disrobe. She cast several glances over her shoulder. What if it was a ruse? What if . . .

Hermione shook her head. No. She'd apologized for not trusting him. That meant she needed to start trying. Yes, they'd had a few encounters that bordered on the line of consent, but he'd never done anything to her that she hadn't expressly told him yes to, or implied to acquiescing to. He wouldn't take advantage of her vulnerability like this.

She hoped.

She took her third deep breath since returning to the room as she lowered herself into the warm water. She stifled a cry of pain as it settled into her cuts and scrapes, and tears stung at her eyes. She gasped and blinked rapidly, trying to focus on washing her hair and body. It seemed that Celeste's bandages were charmed to stay perpetually dry, so Hermione was able to rest her arm in the water all she wanted.

Hermione felt the tears beginning to fall as though they'd been waiting and could no longer do so. She washed quickly with cloth and soap, weeping silently as the trauma of her ordeal finally took over. Her fear, helplessness, the lasting pain. How she'd tried to fight even when it was futile.

What if Theo's gleeful look had been a threat? What if they were minutes away from getting called to court? What if Voldemort gave her away?

She could think of nothing worse at this point.

Hugging her legs to her chest, Hermione buried her face on her knees and wept until she felt like she had no tears left. Her head pounded with dehydration, exacerbated by the pain in the rest of her body, and then the worst happened.

She needed to pee.

Hermione sniffled and pouted as she clambered out of the tub and pulled a towel out of one of the cupboards. She wrapped it around herself, holding it closed as she walked over to the loo. This wouldn't take long, and it couldn't be that painful. She would just muscle through it and then go lie down. A good afternoon nap was what she needed.

The moment she started to relieve herself, she wished she didn't even have a bladder. It hurt. The cuts inside her body burned so badly that she saw spots.

She was going to have to tell him.

"Draco," she wailed. "Draco!"

Two seconds later, he was standing in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of her weeping on the loo. She was sure she must look a sight.

"What's happened?" He asked, sounding incredulous.

"Cream of Dittany," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as she finished. "Possibly Essence, too."

His eyes darkened. "Why?"

Hermione winced, more tears dripping down her cheeks and onto the black towel. "Please. I need it."

He didn't move. He snarled, "Why?"

". . . He touched me," she whispered, looking at a point somewhere beyond him.

She felt the cold fury rolling off of him, like his magic was physically manifesting in the air.

"Where did he touch you, Hermione?"

His voice was as hard as flint. Hermione ducked her head down, still on the loo. She felt ashamed, like she'd done something to personally wrong him.

"Hermione!" He cried, raising his voice.

Realizing that he'd used her first name not once, but twice, Hermione closed her eyes and answered him.

"Inside."

Silence.

And then, "Fuck!"

He slammed his fist against the open door. The wood vibrated and then splintered. Hermione let out a scream as her shoulders jumped. She covered her face with one hand, her wrist throbbing with pain as she remembered that it was broken.

"My magic," he muttered, and then he glared at her. "What did he do?"

Hermione couldn't look at him. She didn't even want to tell him.

"What did he do?"

Hermione huffed, but the words didn't seem to want to come out. She glared at the floor, taking several slow breaths. She didn't know why, but it just felt . . . Mortifying.

When Draco realized she wasn't going to speak he cursed again. He pushed his fingers through his hair, tousling it back.

"I'll ask him myself."

"Stay," she said quickly, before he could get carried away. "I need the medicine more."

He glared at her for a long moment and then with yet another curse, he Disapparated.

Hermione held onto the edge of the sink and pulled herself to her feet. After flushing, she turned to wash her hands. She made sure not to look at her reflection in the mirror. She knew she probably looked worse than ever before. She could feel the bruises growing on the skin of her face.

It was total agony, limping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Hermione grimaced as the cuts inside of her body pulled wide, and she wondered if she would be able to reach inside of herself with the medicine without messing up. She didn't think the pain was going to decrease any, and she felt like she had been foolish to get into the hot water.

So many stupid mistakes.

"Very well," she recalled saying to Theo. She'd even sat down next to him. She felt like a complete idjit.

Now, she was paying the price for being too trusting.

Furious, she jammed the back of her unhurt hand across her tear-filled eyes. She limped over to the bed, hissing in pain as she sat down on the edge. Careful and slow, she lifted both of her legs onto the mattress and tried to relax. She laid on her back, trying several positions until she found one that didn't hurt quite so badly: her spine flat to the coverlet and her knees up. She threw an arm across her eyes and continued to practice her makeshift breathing exercises.

Hermione jumped again when Draco Apparated in, and she pulled herself up onto her elbows.

"I've got Essence and Cream," he said, holding a container in one hand and a small bottle in the other.

She was in so much pain that she was past standing on ceremony. She was lying on his bed in naught but a towel and in her mind, it was nothing he hadn't seen before, and she was in pain. She reached her hand out to him.

"Give it to me," she begged. "Seriously. Quick."

He looked at her in surprise for a moment. "Which one first?"

She scowled and let her head fall back for a moment as she made a frantic motion with her hand.

"Draco, I don't care which! It hurts. Hurry and bring something to me!"

"All right!" he yelled. "Salazar's beard, witch."

He walked over, presenting the Cream of Dittany. Hermione snatched the container out of his hand and sat up. She set it down on the mattress to the left of her, towards the center of the massive bed, and then looked behind her at the pillows.

"What are you doing?" he asked, fidgeting with the Essence of Dittany bottle between his fingers.

"I need to sit up as much as I can," she said in a strained voice. She was already thoroughly embarrassed, and she wasn't going to put herself in more pain trying to prolong the inevitable. "So I can reach."

Draco averted his eyes from her as she began stacking pillows behind herself. He swallowed, loud enough that she heard him, and she felt the tension increasing a considerable amount. Her heartbeat stuttered. She knew what words he wasn't speaking - the question he was leaving unasked.

Her first instinct was to say no. But as another wave of pain throbbed upward from within her core, she barely managed to stay upright. His eyes darted back to hers, and she sighed.

"Essence first, then Cream," she said, pushing the pillows away so she could return to lying flat on her back.

"I do know how to properly apply healing medicines, Granger." He snapped his fingers, his facial expression hardening and voiding itself of emotion. When Hermione chanced a glance up into his eyes, she saw that they were narrowed. "Where is the wound?"

"Wounds," she groaned, nearly delirious with pain. "Inside."

Draco paused, staring at nothing in particular. Hermione watched him, wondering what he was going to do.

"'Wounds'? Plural?"

Hermione didn't reply.

"Fine," Draco spat, as though she had. "Fine. Scoot to the end of the bed, pull your knees up higher, and spread your legs."

Hermione's cheeks heated as she did as she was told. She knew that were she in a less-pained state of mind, this was something that she would have never done with one hundred percent willingness, but she knew her body. She would never forget what it felt like to have Theo's fingers shoving their way inside of her even with how hard she'd fought to push against his arm. She would never forget it, but she needed the Dittany. Without it, she feared she might lose her mind.

She moved to the end of the mattress, until her toes were hanging over just a tad, and her hair stretched out along the bed behind her. She positioned herself the same way she would at a Muggle gynecologist's office, and tried to put her mind in that place, even as her nerves increased. Draco headed towards the end of the bed. Hermione clutched the towel tighter with her unhurt hand, keeping her knees pressed tightly together.

"Come on, Granger," he said, his voice sounding a bit snide. "It's either this, or I go kill Theo. Which would you rather?"

Hermione frowned. She wasn't . . . She didn't know what she wanted for Theo. She just knew she wasn't a murderer.

. . . Mione?

Hermione saw a strange look entering Draco's eyes at the same time that she felt her heart clutching tight with guilt, and they both looked anywhere but at one another. The only reason why she wasn't a murderer was because Narcissa saved his life.

"It hurts," was all she said.

Draco set the Essence down on the mattress by her feet and hips. He placed a hand beside her waist and leaned forward to grab the container of Cream of Dittany from where she'd put it. Her eyes flickered up to look at his face, at the sharp line of his jaw, the glint of anger that lay hidden behind his silver eyes, and the locks of his blond hair that fell forward with his movements.

He paused, and Hermione's chest expanded. Was he going to lean over her?

"I'm tempted to ask you to remove the towel." His eyebrows twitched. "It would make staying here and not killing him more worthwhile."

It took Hermione a moment to realize that he was speaking in jest. A moment that involved her internally arguing with herself and reminding herself that he was, in fact, still her Master. A moment where she slowly reached for the folded-in part of her towel. A moment where he snatched himself back from her as quick as lightning.

"The towel doesn't need to come off, Granger," he said in a quiet voice. "I was only joking."

Hermione blinked, realizing with sudden clarity that there were tears in her eyes. "Oh."

"Oh?" Draco set the container down beside the bottle and unbuttoned his sleeves. He began to roll them up, revealing corded forearms littered with fine, blonde hairs. He sneered. "If you want, we can put you under the coverlet."

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "No, it's . . ."

She trailed off as he slowly sank out of her line of sight, likely to his knees on the floor. She stared at the ceiling and closed her eyes. This was necessary. It was necessary, and he'd already seen it. He'd . . . Touched her and tasted her before. It wasn't like she was -

Draco placed his hands on her knees. Hermione stiffened, her panic starting to rise up. On reflex, she kicked her foot out. It connected with the front of his shoulder, which felt warm and real. His hand snapped to grab her ankle.

"Oi!

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered, sitting up. She reached out to lay her hand over one of his, but hesitated, bringing it back to her mouth. "I just . . . W-Wait."

"You can't be this tense," he said, sounding troubled. "Or else I can't . . . Do what needs to be done."

"Then stop being an arsehole!" she cried. "This is embarrassing enough!"

"Granger!" He scoffed and then, when he spoke again, his voice was considerably softer. Much more like the one he used when he wanted her to eat. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to get the medicine on the wounds."

Hermione looked into his eyes, at the sincerity there, and then she nodded.

"Want me to tell you what I see?" he asked as he spread her legs apart.

She adjusted her feet to a more comfortable position. "I know what my vagina looks like, Draco."

There was a second of silence and then he was laughing. It so shocked her to hear him genuinely laughing that she smiled to herself.

"I don't doubt it, you little swot," he said. His fingers squeezed her knees in an almost affectionate gesture. "What, did you hole up in your dorm at Hogwarts, inspecting yourself with conjured mirrors?"

"Draco!" She sat up.

He continued to laugh, sounding almost beside himself. The brightness of his smile was disarming. "I'm joking, I'm joking! Circe. I'm just trying to make this easier."

Nothing would make this easier. Because even though he'd seen her body before, this was different. Theo had violated her. She hadn't consented the way she had with Draco. Her wounds were symbols of that, and having him see them felt anxiety-inducing.

"Just relax," he murmured, and he hooked his arms around the undersides of her calves. They smoothed up the backs of her thighs and down again. "It's just me."

"Two weeks ago, that would have had me trying to run," she grumbled, but she tried another deep breath to calm down.

"And now," he said softly, his fingers kneading circles into the muscles of her thighs. "It's all right, isn't it?"

Hermione felt her skin prickling and she gulped. It wasn't all right - there wasn't a single part of her life that was all right. Whether Draco meant for it to happen, Aurora was gone, Voldemort had gifted Hermione to him, and Theo had forced himself upon her in a hedge maze. And now she was lying here, trying to pretend his little massages weren't setting her entire body on edge.

She clenched her teeth and hissed, "Just hurry up."

"Is this something you did with the mirrors?"

"Draco."

He tutted and then nothing happened for a few seconds. Hermione studied the canopy above the bed, eyes zoning into the shadows above, and then she felt the glass of the dropper touching her core. She forced herself to relax as much as she could, balling her hands into fists at her sides.

The first couple of drops sizzled against her flesh.

"How many cuts are there?" she asked.

"Would you like me to conjure you a mirror?" He sounded focused, but not so focused as to be completely absorbed.

"I'll kick you in your cheeky face."

He sighed in exasperation. "It's hard to tell. There's four on the outside, and one just inside. Do you have any -"

"I didn't even feel those ones!" Hermione cried, feeling panicked. "The ones I'm feeling are inside!"

"Okay," he said. "Just calm down. It's all right. We will get them all. Don't flinch."

"What?"

His fingers spread her outer lips apart with one hand. Hermione gasped in pain when a few cuts pulled and tears pricked at her eyes again. Simultaneously, a feeling of unavoidable pleasure rocketed through her body as though it were trying to sneak by without her seeing it. Whether it was the feeling of the pain or the pleasure, she flinched.

She felt a drop of Essence burning inside of her body. It wasn't pleasant, but it hurt a lot less than the cuts.

"And I missed." He sighed. "Okay, this is going to have to get unpleasant. Spread your legs wider."

Hermione hesitated, and he smacked his hand against the inside of her thigh. She yelped.

"Do it, Granger. I'm starting to want to kill Theo again. If you don't want to lie here and wait for me to get back and wash the blood off of my hands, you'll do as I say."

Hermione blushed furiously as she positioned her feet further apart. She was absolutely beyond mortified. This was humiliating. She covered her face with her hands and promptly burst out into tears of shame and despair.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said gently, and she felt his hand smoothing over her thigh in a gesture of comfort. "I'll be quick, and then we can do the Cream, and then you'll be done, yeah?"

Hermione sniffled, still sobbing. "Yeah."

"All right. Here I go . . ."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut behind her fingers, her tears finding their way out between her eyelashes and dripping steadily down her temples and into her hair. Draco spread her core as wide as he could, and she felt the drops of Dittany everywhere inside of her. His fingers were careful, which was in sharp contrast to all of the pain, and it was making it difficult to breathe.

She tried counting. She counted sheep, counted books, and even tried counting bludgers. Anything to distract herself from not only this situation, but the memories of Theo's fist against her face, hand around her throat, and fingers inside of her body.

"It's all right," Draco kept saying in the soothing tone she'd grown accustomed to hearing from him. "Just relax, sweet girl. Relax."

Hermione sobbed into her hands, making as little noise as possible even as the pain faded into a dull ache. The Essence had done its job, but the bruising would be unbearable if he didn't get the Cream of Dittany massaged into her flesh.

The lid unscrewing from the container seemed too loud in the silence of the room, and she heard him dipping his fore and middle fingers into the Cream. Trepidation rooted her to the spot as he touched her, and the coldness of the medicine tore a sound of astonishment from her lips. He chuckled lightly, but didn't say anything as he began to work it into her flesh.

As the minutes wore on, Hermione found that it was becoming increasingly more difficult to remain still. His fingers were working real magic into her lower body, and they alternated between getting nearer to the apex of her womanhood, circling her entrance. When they slipped inside of her, she bit her lip as hard as she could to keep from twitching. Her toes curled into the fabric of the velvet coverlet and even though she desperately wanted to cant her hips against the press of his fingers, she refrained.

Please . . .

Her mind was starting to spiral, even as her thoughts weighed heavily with self-hatred and disgust at her feelings. She knew she shouldn't be feeling this way after what happened outside. After telling Draco she didn't want to use her body as collateral. But when the medicine began to settle into her skin, erasing the pain almost entirely and leaving behind nothing but the gentle slide of his fingers against her inner walls, she felt herself growing almost anxious with need.

Please go . . . Faster . . .

Her eyelids fluttered open behind her hands and her eyes rolled up into her head. It felt like tiny shocks were working through her veins, causing her muscles to shift of their own volition. She knew her thighs were about to start trembling, and then there'd be no hiding it from him.

She felt ashamed of herself.

Her stomach twisted painfully and she felt a moan trying to wrench its way out of her throat. She couldn't even feel the cuts anymore. She just felt him. Him, and the tears on her face. She dug her fingernails lightly into the skin on her forehead and sweat began to bead in various places on her body. Her heart raced in her chest. Then, when she thought she might go absolutely barmy with desperation, she felt him push his fingers deeper inside of her body. Much deeper than the injuries had even reached.

It felt amazing.

Hermione let out a sob, but she kept her face hidden. Her entire face feverish with heat, she allowed her hips to twitch forward one time. Just once, just to release some of the energy that was stockpiling. It barely helped.

Suddenly, she felt the mattress shifting as Draco crawled his way up her body. He hovered over her, his fingers still working in and out of her core slowly. His eyes were boring holes into her, but she refused to move her hands. She didn't want to look his in the eyes. This wasn't some impassioned moment after a confession in the window seat. She didn't have a collar on. She wasn't on her knees, willing to throw herself into the role Voldemort had placed her in because of a dagger to the throat. This was a completely selfish moment that Hermione couldn't take for herself without feeling like she was giving up the last of the control she had over herself and her body.

But it just felt so good.

"Granger?"

His voice was huskier, almost too quiet for her to hear even though he was above her.

"Y-Yes?" she squeaked out from behind her hands.

"Let me make it go away."

Hermione moved her hands away from her face bit by bit, until her shy gaze met with one that felt like being blasted by a confringo spell. His eyes were on fire. It was like she was looking straight into eyes full of Hellfire. He was looking at her. He wanted her.

"Yes," she whispered, another tear falling into her hair where she lay.

He gazed at her for another moment before something in the air split apart. His lips swooped down to capture hers with intensity that swept her up and sent her soaring. His fingers, coated in her wetness, moved up to trace sensual, slow circles around her clit. Circles that were nothing like the frenzied, animalistic way he was devouring her lips, tongue, and mouth. Hermione's legs were spread almost obscenely wide, her feet pressing flat to the bed to help her push her hips more firmly against his wicked, skillful fingers.

Draco pulled out of the kiss just as a wave of bliss overtook her and sent her careening towards her second-ever orgasm. She could feel it lingering on the edges of her psyche, building within her body in a way that had her entire body tingling from the toes up to the top of her head. She moaned loudly, repeatedly, barely noticing when he transferred his weight to his knees and used his now-free hand to pull her towel open.

"Fuck," he groaned when he saw her chest heaving with desire.

"Draco," she wailed when he leaned down to suck the peak of one of her breasts into his mouth. It distracted her from her release, causing the wave to ebb a bit, and her hips to roll more wildly. Her foot slipped off of the end of the mattress and her hands tangled in the hair on the back of his head.

"It's all right," he cooed, his fingers moving between her nether lips with agonizing slowness. "It's just me, and you're mine, aren't you?"

Lost in another realm, Hermione rutted her hips and arched her back.

"I'm yours," she whimpered. "Oh, Gods, I'm yours, I'm -"

When her words cut off into a strangled cry when his fingers began to slip and slide over her clit once more. He was pressing firmly, but the combination of her arousal and the remnants of the Cream of Dittany made it feel intense in a way that she couldn't exactly comprehend. Her back lifted off of the mattress as one hand wrapped firmly around the back of his neck. Her brows came together and she brushed her lips against his, wanting to feel him swallowing up her moans with his mouth.

"You want me to make you cum, don't you, sweet girl?" he growled, his breath mingling with hers.

"Please, please," she whined, her feet returning to push against the mattress. She felt like it was taking so long, like he was drawing it out just so he could prove he owned her body.

"You like cumming for me, don't you?" He twisted his head to the side and kissed the corner of her mouth before working his way down the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Yes," Hermione cried. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scents, feeling her hips beginning to stutter and tense up.

Suddenly, his body jerked back from her face, leaving her gasping for a moment. He gripped her chin and forced her to look up into his eyes. Into that Hellfire. Her hips writhed beneath his unrelenting touch, her heart filling to burst as she realized just how much she truly did belong to him. Ten years of past meant nothing. She bit her lip, whimpering again.

"So cum for me," he whispered, and his voice was an order wrapped in possessiveness. "Only me. Remember that I'm the one one who's ever made you feel this way. The only one who will ever make you feel this way."

Hermione tried to look away, tried to let her eyelids flutter shut, but he tightened his hold on her chin. His brow furrowed and some of his hair fell forward to hang in his eyes. The possessive look in his eyes sent a bolt of lightning right into the depths of her core and sent her over the edge.

"I'm the only one who makes you feel good."

Hermione let out a high-pitched, keening wail as she came shuddering on his fingers, her body shaking and convulsing as her womb clenched inside of her. Her head fell back and she cried out again as wave after wave of bliss crested within her body, her hips rolling in the sea of ecstasy he seemed to wake so easily. His hand trailed down the front of her exposed throat, his eyes following the pathway they traversed.

"Oh, fuck, you're so sweet," he moaned, his fingers working her to the knife's edge between rapture and torment. He continued his feather-light, tortuous movements, switching between massaging her clit and slipping deep inside of her. "Can you cum again for me? I want to see it."

Hermione's toes curled tight and she nodded frantically. She could feel it building again, a tornado gaining in strength the longer the torment wore on. It was exquisite, toeing the balance between pleasure and pain. His hand covered her bare breast, fondling it with a soft palm. It was maddening, the contrast between

"But it's - it's too much," she choked out as his lips kissed her jawline. She whined. "Draco, it's -"

Her words stuttered as the feelings of pain faded out as if on cue, and there was nothing left but bliss. She could hear how wet she was, the lewd sounds echoing around the room as her body tensed up again. But no matter how fast and hard she rolled her hips, he never increased his infuriating and slow pace. Her fingers dug into the nape of his neck, twisting in his hair. Her eyes met his again, and his pupils were dilated, a smirk twisting upward on his lips.

"The first one was for you, sweet girl," he purred in a sickly-sweet tone. "Say thank you for letting you cum."

She wet her lips, blushing. "Th-Thank you."

"For?" His brow arched.

Hermione's blush intensified. It felt like . . . This meant something, or was . . . Strange. It was similar to how he'd been acting since he returned from healing from his wound. Strange, and yet her body responded to it as though she were wearing the collar. Part of her wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear, but another part was screaming at her.

Something didn't seem right.

"For?"

Hermione felt him pinching her clit gently between his fingers and she felt her stomach flip.

"Th-Thank you for . . . L-Letting me . . ." She lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on her chest. It was flushed red. Her ribs protruded much too far to be healthy. But Draco didn't seem to be focused on that. She whispered her words. "For letting me . . . Cum."

He hummed in approval. "Good girl. Who's the second one for?"

Hermione's brow furrowed and she looked up into his eyes, confused. "The second . . . Ah."

His fingers curled within her and he pressed on the backside of her pubic bone. Her jaw fell open. "Who was the first one for?"

She said what she thought he wanted to hear. She would have said anything at that point. "You, Master."

His hand removed itself from her breast and, to her astoundment, he slapped her thigh lightly. She cried out as it intensified the feelings within her womb. Her eyes fell shut.

"No, Granger," he said in a sing-song tone. "You open those eyes."

Hermione cracked them open. She was sweating profusely, her curls damp and hanging limp off of her head. But she didn't care. She felt like a completely different person. She felt like she belonged to him.

"Your answer was wrong," Draco purred, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leaned forward on his knees, looming over her.

"U-Um . . ." Her voice broke off as his fingers returned to her clit. Her thighs fell open wider and her cheek flushed. "For . . . For you, Malfoy."

"Wrong again."

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head when, before she could realize what was going on, both of his hands were playing at her core. One was inside of her and one was outside, and she felt like they were all that was anchoring her to the Earth. She fell back to lean on her elbows, her moans bordering on screams. A cord within her body pulled taut and a series of words she hardly understood - pleas and praises - were whispered under her breath. Then, just as she was about to fall apart again, his hands stilled completely.

Her eyes snapped open and head raised, staring up at him in bleary-eyed perplexion. The loss was more painful than her injuries had been. His smirk was almost cruel.

Hermione knew then that something was wrong.

She just didn't want to stop.

"Draco," she whispered, and then she reached up to run the back of her unhurt hand across his cheekbone. He slowly began to move his hands again, and she kept their gazes locked as she tried to make sense of why his pupils looked so blown. "For you, Draco."

"That's right," he purred, his head dipping down to drop a scorching hot kiss on her collarbone without his hands ever missing a beat. She could feel the cord pulling tighter in her lower body again. "This one is for me. They're all for me. Every last one. No matter what."

Hermione's head lolled backward again just as the fireplace charm kicked in, the early evening triggering the flames to spring to life. The crackling startled her into sitting up fully, her head snapping to look towards the hearth. Draco growled, apparently not fond of her attention being drawn elsewhere, and then he placed one hand on her mons and pressed down so hard that her hips were forced flat. His left hand began to set a punishing pace in her core, his fingers slamming in and out of her channel in a way that had her crying out.

She came suddenly and hard, the emotions overwhelming her into a sudden fit of sobs. She collapsed on the mattress as Draco rolled on top of her and peppered her neck and chest with barely-there kisses. She shivered beneath the onslaught, her climax still rippling through her muscles as she panted for breath. She was spent. Completely spent.

"Such a good girl," he purred, his hands stroking lightly up her sides. He kissed the side of her breast, eliciting gasps as her oversensitive skin shifted. She almost wanted to curl in on herself to get away from how immensely good it felt to be kissed like this, but she felt enveloped by his much larger frame. He didn't seem to mind the taste of her sweat either as his tongue laved flat against her nipple.

Hermione's thighs pressed together and she keened as he worshipped her breast until she could hardly take it.

"Draco," she spluttered. Her broken wrist lay on the coverlet by her head, her fingers curving into a fist. Her other hand stroked through his hair. "Please. It's too much."

"It's not too much," he continued to purr, his eyes meeting hers one time before he moved his mouth to the other breast. "It's not enough."

A small burst of panic ripped through her sensibilities, halted only by the feeling of his lips closing around her nipple.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roving over her torso as he sat back on his heels above her. His hands smoothed all over her body. Hermione studied his face. He looked like himself, but something was off. Everything felt too . . . She worried.

What if she asked him to stop, and he said no?

Suddenly, he was kissing her, his tongue tangling with her own as his hand slipped between their bodies again to touch her. She tore her lips away from his and cried out in near-pain.

"It's too much," she wailed. "Draco, please."

He seemed to not hear her, because he was sliding down the length of her body, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her weak body down to the end of the mattress. When her rump was at the very end, she realized what he planned to do and she had a brief moment of complete clarity.

Something was not right with him.

"Draco -" She sat up, her waist-length curls a complete and utter disaster about her head.

He cut her off, his fingers spreading her core wide. Hermione watched in morbid fascination as his eyes darkened even further in the glow of the fire. She took several deep breaths.

Tell him to stop, she thought. Just tell him to stop.

His gaze locked with hers as the pad of his thumb lightly grazed her pearl. Her hips nearly came off the mattress, held in place by one of his strong arms hooking underneath her thigh and wrapping around the top of her leg. She whimpered like a wounded animal, pleading with him under her breath, unsure of what to do.

"I'm going to devour your cunt, Hermione," he murmured, his eyes smoldering up into her own and eyebrows rising. "And you're gonna cum once more while I tell you how sweet you taste."

Hermione's entire body blushed at his words and she sucked in her breath when, without breaking eye contact, he ran his tongue up the entire length of her dripping wet slit. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Any last bit of sanity she had left in her mind melted away at his next words.

"The third one's for both of us."

He attacked her cunt with his lips and tongue, and Hermione's back arched to the Heavens. She cried out his name and collapsed on her back. All she could feel was his tongue dipping inside of her, circling her clit, drawing every last drop of her pleasure from her violently trembling body. He moaned, the hum of the sound stoking the embers in her body to full flame - a fire that she hadn't thought could grow for a third time.

Hermione rolled her hips up to meet the cadence of his tongue, practically sobbing with need and desperation. At first, it was so overwhelming that she tried to push him away. She sat up again, trying to push at his shoulders, but every time she did, he laved his tongue against her pearl in a way that had her hips jerking. She continued to pull him closer, push him back, and pull him closer again, until she felt her orgasm hurtling towards her like a speeding bullet.

Stars began to spring to light behind her closed eyelids. Her hips rose to meet his tongue, riding it with the last of the energy she had in her body. She wanted to cum for him. She needed to do it. She needed him to make her do it.

She didn't want to disappoint him.

"Master, please," she wailed. "I d-on't know if I - I can . . ."

He growled, kissing her clit languorously. "You can."

She shook her head. "I can't, I can't."

"Yes, you can, sweet girl." His voice came out in a purr again. His eyes fell shut and his nose nuzzled against her core. Hermione felt like her entire body was on edge. "I don't want you to hurt anymore."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

His tongue tasted her again. "You did so good today. You fought so hard, didn't you?"

Hermione's nerves sang, her hips meeting his mouth slow and sure. "Y-Yes."

"Were you scared?" His eyes looked up at her, dark and fiery. She saw his ire there, still smoldering, and she nodded.

Hermione whimpered. Her legs spread wider and her toes touched the carpet, pushing her closer to him. Her entire body was on edge, teetering on the precipice. Once again, the memories of what Theo had done assailed her, but they seemed so far away now. Like they'd happened years ago. Like they were a distant nightmare.

"I won't let him hurt you again." His tongue delved deep. "No one will ever take you away from me." He suckled at her swollen clit. He exhaled a heavy groan. "Fuck, I'll always protect you."

"Please," she whispered, her spine arching and her back hitting the mattress again with a dull thump. She laid there and stared dizzily up at the ceiling. Her limbs were like jelly, but she was so close that she couldn't get a full breath in. Her hand stroked through the soft hair on top of his head. "Please don't let them."

"I would have killed him for you," he said in a hushed tone, his lips brushing against her core. His voice broke and when he spoke again, he sounded wracked with rage. "And I'm not angry with you anymore."

He tasted her one final time, and the band snapped into pieces inside of her. His praises were exactly what she needed in this new, strange world that she existed in. The new strange world that contained parts of her past made new. Her heart and her womb burst.

"Ohh, Draco, thank you," she moaned, and her words meant so much more than what they seemed. "Thank you, Master."

She climaxed with a loud sob, her hands flying to cover her face again as she keened and ground her core against his mouth. His tongue fucked her through her orgasm - the most powerful one yet - and Hermione realized that she hardly knew her own name anymore. She was just his.

She lifted her head as he started to crawl back up the length of her body.

His eyes were completely black.

Alarmed, Hermione scrambled backward towards the pillows. He followed her, dragging her down sharply by the hips until her head was flat on the mattress again. He chuckled darkly and dipped down to kiss her neck with artful expertise, groaning when her skin shivered. Her body was weak, so absolutely weak, that she could hardly move.

"I can't . . . Stop, I . . ." A whine burst forth from the depths of his chest and then he was kissing her without any intentions of stopping what might come next. Hermione went rigid beneath him, her dazed mind twisting and turning as it tried to make sense of what was happening. She tried to use her unhurt hand to push herself up, but her eyes widened as she realized that somehow, he'd cast a wandless, nonverbal sticking charm.

She felt the pressure of him sitting on her hips and she began to shake her head.

"Not like this, Draco. Something's not right, you -"

"I'm fucking you, Hermione." His voice was hoarse. Ragged as though a werewolf had raked its claws across his throat. His eyes were wild with hunger and lust. He ripped his belt strap out of the buckle. "Now."

She heard the zipper on his trousers and her eyes darted down to look between them. It was dark outside now, and the only light they had came from the fireplace. Panic froze her.

"Just . . ." She swallowed. "Can you go slower?"

"You don't understand," he whined, his hand bruising at her hip. "I need you."

"I do understand." She tried to keep her voice steady and calm. "I do understand. And I just need you to go slower, o-okay?"

"Fuck," he cursed, his hands caging her in on either side of her head. His head dipped down automatically to run kisses along her jutting collarbones. "Fucking . . ."

His body rolled against hers, and she felt his hard length pressing against her bare core through his trousers. It itched slightly and her eyes twitched shut. He was kissing her neck with feverish need, his hands kneading the flesh on her waist and breasts with yearning.

Hermione tried to push past her health and whatever listless headspace she'd fallen into after Draco's ministrations. She tried to think as clearly as possible. She knew this was bound to happen sooner or later, and she wasn't against it. She just wanted it to be right. Not because she belonged to him in the Dark Lord's way. She did feel closer to him after the things they'd gone through, but she did not want her body to be some form of payment. She wanted to discuss this first.

But there was something about the agonized groans he was making that didn't sit right with her. Something in the unrestrained way he was consuming her body tonight. He'd never been this out of control, except for in the Library, and even then, he'd managed to stop himself.

Could he be . . . Cursed? It couldn't be the Imperius, because victims of the Imperius Curse were prisoners inside of their mind, and they couldn't speak freely. Draco seemed able to speak freely.

He was an Occlumens. Could his Occlumency be the reason why he had some sort of autonomy over his body? The only way he could exist in some sort of limbo between cursed and free of the Imperius was if Occlumency acted as a sort of weapon or barrier against it.

But if he was under the Imperius curse, and if he was constantly fighting it off, that raised so many more questions. When had he been cursed? Who cursed him? How often was he able to break it? Why wasn't he able to break it now?

"I want you," he moaned into her ear, startling Hermione out of her reverie. She hadn't realized that he was stretched out along her body, his hands cupping her breasts, his teeth nipping at her ear. He dropped more kisses to her neck and then he slanted his lips over her own for a second. Their eyes met. "I want to make every part of you mine. I want to be inside of you."

Hermione had no time to process this. He tilted his head to the side and captured her mouth with his before she could. She lost herself in the depths of the sensuality as their tongues danced, and she felt her hips squirming as much as they could in spite of the charm. Her feet slid against the velvet of the coverlet and she moaned.

This was going to happen. It was always going to happen, from the moment he brought her that stupid fucking blanket. Hermione sold her body for a hamburger on the streets. Of course she would have given herself to Draco. Even if he never had intentions of owning her in this way, she'd experienced so much hardship after the war that she would have seen any act of kindness as something worthy of her body.

But after the time she'd spent here at the palace, she'd come to realize that her body was not a form of payment. She didn't owe it to anyone, and she didn't owe it to Draco. Something was wrong with him, and she was starting to think it was more than just feeling betrayed because she'd stabbed him. He had to be cursed.

This was too fast. This wasn't what she thought, what she wanted. Something was wrong with him. His eyes were black. They were black, and -

She went completely still, her blood freezing in her veins.

She felt the head of his cock dragging through her arousal, his hand directing it, and her eyelids fluttered.

There was no point in fighting it. They could deal with the repercussions later.

"Don't hurt me," she whimpered, looking up at him beseechingly.

He bit his lower lip lightly, his brow furrowing with concern. Like he had no choice in what he was doing. Like he was in pain. Then, he nodded.

Hermione felt him start to surge forward.

Crack.

Bellatrix Lestrange turned in a swirl of robes. "Icklee baby nephew!"

There was no time to wonder how she'd Apparated in. There was no time to be terrified at the fact that Theo was standing behind her in his robes with the same gleeful, smug smirk he'd been wearing earlier that day. There was no time for Hermione to do anything other than look up at the only person she could trust in Voldemort's Hellish landscape.

Draco was all she had left.

"Fight it," she whispered, another tear spilling out onto her cheek. "Please fight it."

"My, it looks like we've interrupted," Bellatrix said, sounding delighted.

There was a split second of non-action as Draco just stared at her. A split second where she was certain he was going to take her, even while Bellatrix and Theo were standing right there. But in that minutiae of time, deep down, Hermione knew her theory had to be correct.

Something was wrong with Draco, and if she were right, he would stop.

"Fight it," Hermione hissed, painfully aware of her nudity.

Her words seemed to lash against his skin, and he flinched. He blinked once, then twice, and when he opened his eyes again, his pupils were shrinking back to a normal size. For a moment, she saw a torrent of emotions whirling in his eyes: anger, self-hatred, horror, and anguish. Then, he slammed his walls back up and his Occlumency blocked her out. He rolled off of her, tucked himself back into his pants, and stood to his feet all at once. As he zipped his trousers and buckled his belt, Hermione hurried to gather the towel she'd been wearing around her body.

The scar on her arm pulsed and itched.

Bellatrix, who hadn't heard Hermione, sauntered forward a step. Her raucous curls were piled atop her head like a bird's nest and her lips were painted a dark, blood-red. She wore dress robes that were lacy, black, and clung to every curve. She looked exactly like the Dark Lord's queen as she raised her chin and gave them a cruel smile.

"Don't stop on my account, nephew. It warms my heart to see ickle muddy cowering in fear exactly where she belongs: on her back with her legs spread like a filthy whore. You've done well."