Invisible

by honeysweetcutie

RE-UPLOAD BY REQUEST! When Hermione spoke for Lucius at his trial, she didn't realize how big her sacrifice would come to be. As Eighth Year begins, she is invisible, but Draco can't seem to keep his eyes off of her. When Hermione is attacked, it sets off a series of events that will change their lives forever. [Semi-OOC, trigger warnings apply] ON INDEFINITE HIATUS

23. Space Between Worlds

TRIGGER WARNINGS: This chapter is extremely dark and violent. It's super fucked up. It has elements of non-con. I decided it was necessary for the second half of the story, because Hermione and Draco needed this situation to bring them together while also tearing them apart. This entire chapter is non-stop drama and triggers, so please skip it if you cannot handle it. There is NO rape, however!

This is by far the most ridiculous thing I have ever written.

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Invisible

Chapter Twenty-Three: Space Between Worlds

Evaporate by Dance Gavin Dance, Goddess of the Dawn by Born of Osiris, Those Who Stand for Nothing, Fall for Everything by Slaves, Ivory Black by Imminence, and Howl by Florence & the Machine

Hermione POV

10:00pm.

Gnawing. Biting. Hacking. Clawing. A crucio. Blood spilling out like wine from a toppled bottle. The high-pitched wails of Gareth's slave breaking off into gut-wrenching sobs as he imperioed her and forced her face into his pelvis on the couch. Maniacal laughter punctuated by Cecilia Yaxley's giggles. Hermione's scalp aching and throbbing, her ears ringing with the sounds of torment. The limbs of Demetri's slave being torn asunder, a leg tossed to one werewolf for a snack, a hand peeking out from between another one's jaws. Her head rolled to a stop in front of Hermione's knees, the blood staining her already-red dress darker. It was hectic, absolute and utter chaos, and Hermione just wanted Malfoy to let her go.

The horrified fog cleared in moments as Demetri stalked toward them.

"Surely you wouldn't mind me procuring a . . . A mere taste?" he asked above the sounds of Gareth's slave screaming. "All blood tastes sweet, even the muddy kind."

At the flash of Demetri's fangs, Hermione felt panic clawing its way up through her body and out of her mouth in the form of a shriek that cut him off. She began to scramble backward, curling her hands and tearing at the sleeve of Malfoy's blazer. She kicked her legs outward, slamming the point of her heeled shoe into Demetri's shin. He yelped and jumped backward, a look of outrage passing over her face, and still Hermione fought. She fought against Malfoy's hold, even though it was as clamped down as a vice. When she looked up at the person who was supposed to be protecting her, he looked stricken and more than a little lost.

"Punish her, Malfoy," came Greyback's snarl as he stood over the third Muggle-born slave, ignoring her desperate pleas.

The werewolf was transitioning by the moment, at will like Enicto's potion allowed him to, his skin sloughing off and fur stretching along muscle and sinew, his snout elongating. And the claws. The awful claws, curling and growing. It looked agonizingly painful and yet all he did was snarl like a rabid dog, throw back his head, and howl.

Before Hermione could think, could even breathe, she felt Malfoy's shoe connecting with her side. It was so forceful that she spun and toppled over to the side, gasping. Then, his hand was in her hair again, dragging her upwards, and she saw his eyes. His silver eyes, scorching and pinning her lungs down as he gazed upon her.

He was in there. He was here. So why was he doing this? He promised, he promised. Whywhywhy?

"M-Malfoy, please!" she screamed, and then he slapped her. Fully, with the back of his hand, and she felt his knuckle smacking her lip so hard that it throbbed. He slapped her again, and then threw her down like a broken ragdoll. She landed on top of Demetri's slave's severed head, and she screamed in horror, rolling away from it and knocking against Demetri's legs.

"Don't mind if I do," the vampire purred, and then Hermione's scalp was in pain again, her head being dragged backward. He tossed back his head, gave a feline hiss, and sank his fangs into her neck.

Hermione, in a blind panic, slapped and pulled at his face and hair, the putrid scent wafting off of his body causing her to feel physically ill. She kicked her legs, tried to twist her body, but nothing worked.

Malfoy had promised. He'd promised. Why was this happening? How had things devolved so quickly into Hell? She looked to Malfoy for help, for answers, for anything, confusion warring with the despair in her eyes as Demetri suddenly grabbed the skirt of her dress and tore the slit up higher.

Malfoy's lip curled and he reached for his wand.

"Do not interfere!" Greyback shouted.

Hermione was horrified to see Malfoy's hand clench into a fist at his side, his silver eyes burning in two infernos.

No, this isn't supposed to . . . Why is Malfoy just standing there? He has his wand . . . No, Merlin no . . . Hermione's thoughts came in wild bursts and Demetri's stone-cold hand tore her knickers down to her thighs.

She felt like a fool. She felt like a fool because even though Malfoy had warned her this was what might happen, she hadn't expected it would. She'd thought Malfoy would have complete control, but something was wrong. Greyback had done something to him, and something was wrong.

"Stop, oh, stop," Hermione pleaded, twisting her hips away from his probing fingers. It was all she could do to clamp her thighs around his hand to stop it from moving upward. "Please! Please, don't!"

Suddenly, and with what looked like great effort from the way he bared his clenched teeth, Malfoy ripped his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it directly at Demetri.

"Crucio!" he snarled, and quick as lightning, Demetri dropped Hermione to the floor.

Demetri fell to his knees and then onto his side, thrashing about and roaring in agony. His crimson eyes rolled up into his head as Hermione crawled backwards, her breathing coming in rapid, hysterical huffs. She felt tears starting to spill down her cheeks as she dragged her knickers back up her legs beneath her now-destroyed gown. Not knowing where to go or who to trust, she continued to move until she was huddled in the shadows near the wall, cowering like a frightened animal in the hopes that no one would seek her out again.

This wasn't what she expected. She didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't what she . . . It just wasn't . . . It was overwhelming, and she had no idea how to keep her wits about her, to keep her sanity unsnapped. Something was wrong with Malfoy. Something they hadn't accounted for. It was like he was in control of his mind, but if he received a direct order, he couldn't combat it or defy it. When he'd pulled out his wand, it looked as though he were about to drop it from between his fingers, and had just barely managed to hold on.

The carnage in the center of the Drawing Room came to a complete halt as Demetri screamed and screamed, and Greyback growled. It rumbled around the room, threatening and ominous.

"No one is touching my fucking Mudblood!" Malfoy roared, whirling on them all. As he did so, Demetri stopped screaming and Malfoy's wand remained trained upon the monsters in the room. "She is mine to do with as I please, and you will respect me in my fucking house! Now, back off."

The silence continued, during which Hermione was desperately struggling not to fall into hysterical sobs.

"Mudblood. Come here," Malfoy said, still not turning to face her.

Hermione didn't move. She was terrified. Even Malfoy scared her. It was safer - she was safer - against the wall, and -

"Granger," he snarled, glaring down at her with piercing silver eyes. "To me. Now."

Hermione went pale. He'd used her name. He'd used her name, and that meant that he was here. It didn't matter if Greyback had done something to him. He was here, and she needed to go to him. It was safer by him. She rose to her feet, wiping the last of her tears away, her skin crawling where Demetri had touched her, and slunk out to stand behind him.

Greyback tossed aside the slave's leg that he'd been munching on, and started towards Malfoy. He looked a horrifying sight, parts of him still human, with the head of a ferocious wolf. Hermione hid behind Malfoy a bit more, hugging her arms around her waist. This wasn't where she wanted to be anymore. She'd made a mistake. She should have gone back to Hogwarts. No information that Greyback held was worth this. She wasn't ready for preventing a war, if that's even what was coming.

Then, Greyback began to speak. Werewolves were not supposed to be able to speak. Hermione stared, wide-eyed and frightened from behind Malfoy's left shoulder. Malfoy kept his wand trained on him.

"If I didn't know any better," the wolf head said, voice grating and rough, "I'd say you were challenging me. And I'd like to remind you . . . You've failed three times now."

Malfoy held his wand to Greyback's broad human chest. His voice was dangerous, a hiss on the wind.

"I'd like to try for a fucking fourth."

Greyback threw his head back and howled, and when he righted it, it was inches from Malfoy's face. Hermione whimpered and buried her face into the back of Malfoy's blazer.

"Suit yourself," Greyback hissed out, saliva dripping from fangs and teeth that were inches long.

Like the last three times, it began as a sort of staring match.

Greyback lowered his jaw and fixed his terrifying sunset eyes on Malfoy, small growls continuing to emanate from within his chest. From her position behind Malfoy, Hermione could feel how tense and rigid his body was as he gazed right back at him, growls of his own rumbling inside of him. She was confused, her mind spinning. Malfoy was a wolf. He was a werewolf. That's the only way this made sense. He was a werewolf with Veela traits and even though it was impossible, that's the way it was. That's who he was. He was both, and he was trying to help her.

But he wasn't strong enough.

Slowly, and much to Hermione's horror, Malfoy collapsed onto the ground on his hands and knees. His wand clattered against the stone beside him, on the other side of his body from where Hermione was. He clenched his fists in front of him and rested his forehead upon them, letting out an anguished groan. On pure reflex, Hermione fell beside him, one hand on his back and other flat on the floor. She leveled a fierce glare up at Greyback, not caring about any false personas or plans or wars.

"What are you doing to him? Leave him alone!" she yelled, feeling Malfoy's body quivering beneath her hand.

"I'm forcing him to turn before his time, you filth," Greyback said, his wolf lips curling back over his fearsome jaws. "If he doesn't surrender, he will turn and he will kill you."

Turn? Hermione's eyes snapped to Malfoy's body, watched as a shudder ripped through his entire body, the flesh on his hands rippling like liquid. She lost her breath when she saw the bones in his hand begin to shift, and she heard a series of sickening cracking noises. He gasped, choking on air as his other hand began to break, too, and then he lifted himself back up onto his knees. He glowered up at Greyback, his chest heaving, teeth bared.

Panicking, Hermione leaned in close, whispering frantically under her breath.

"Just hang on, Malfoy," she said. "Try to fight it. Hang on, and try to fight it."

He groaned in agony. "I can't. I don't think I . . ." Another shudder wracked his body and she saw his collarbone shifting and moving. He whimpered. "I don't think I can."

The other werewolves in the room stalked over and surrounded them, followed by Cecilia, the other three Death Eaters, and Gareth's slave. Hermione's eyes fell from Greyback to the Muggle-born, seeing her face stained with Gareth's essence and her own blood, and Hermione nearly retched.

"Try, Malfoy, try," Hermione said, her fingers trailing through his hair. His scalp was sweating, the strands of blond damp.

Still trembling violently, he clenched his teeth and lifted his head, his eyes fixated on Greyback. Hermione felt a bit of pride swelling within her. He was trying, and that was why she knew no matter what anyone back at school thought, he wasn't a coward. He was fighting back, for her and for them, and even if they were in over their heads, at least they would drown together.

"Surrender, beta!" Greyback roared.

Malfoy shuddered again, and when he responded, Hermione saw his silver irises bleeding outward until no white remained. His flesh rippled, all four of his canine teeth sharpened to fangs, and his snarl was animalistic. Wolflike. Hermione's hands flew to her mouth and she fell backward onto her bottom.

He really is a werewolf. How did I miss this? Why didn't he tell me?

"No!" Malfoy snarled it, right back up into Greyback's face, his blonde hair falling into his face. His eyes seemed to glow, with the silver contrasting to the black pupils, and he looked feral.

Greyback roared and more of his flesh tore away from his chest, revealing bloodied fur. Hermione gagged.

"Surrender!"

The entire pack began to howl. One right after the other, the loud sound echoed around the Drawing Room and rained down upon Hermione's head so painfully that she had to slap her palms over her ears. Malfoy ducked his head down, his back arching and moving and cracking, his hands getting larger and nails getting sharper by the second. Hermione felt her blood turning to ice, her heart racing with a desire to run. But she was completely encircled by wolves, half of them in the process of turning and half of them not.

And then Malfoy, still panting heavily for breath, turned his head to look at her. It was only for a brief moment, but she saw the look in his eyes. She knew that he hated himself more than she ever hated him in the past, and that this was the only way. The only way he could be in the right state of mind to do something to help them both. He couldn't do anything if he was in the crazed mindset of a wolf. She ran her hand through her unruly waves, and then she nodded. She nodded because she knew he was right. He had to give in. He couldn't fight Greyback.

He tore his eyes away from her, back to Greyback.

Malfoy held up one hand, which Hermione saw was bleeding from the nail beds, and held the other to his stomach.

"Enough," he spat, panting, eyes lowering with blatant shame. "Enough. I . . . I surrender."

Greyback grinned in only the way a wolf could and held his claws upright in front of them as though he wanted to make a fist.

"Bow, beta."

Malfoy slowly bowed his head, and Hermione followed suit, her hands flat on the carpet beneath her.

"I am the alpha of this pack," Greyback snarled. "I am the alpha of all packs."

Malfoy growled a wordless sound and then spat out, "But the Mudblood is mine."

Around them, all of the wolves began to return to their human forms. Cecilia was standing nearby with an amused expression on her face, several empty vials being juggled slowly between her hands. Hermione glowered at her. That damn potion. It could do so much good for the werewolf community, yet these people were using for themselves, hoarding it and doing evil, wicked things.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to protect the Mudblood. Is that it?" Greyback, unlike his pack members, remained in half-wolf, half-human form.

Still bowing, Malfoy shook his head. Hermione didn't think it mattered, as their ruse was already shot. Malfoy had fought against Greyback in a way that could not be denied. But still, the fact that he kept fighting? Hermione had decided.

If they made it out of here alive, she would stand by Draco for as long as he needed her. It was worth it.

"I'm simply keeping what's mine to myself," Malfoy said, his body trembling occasionally, the way her hand had after she'd been crucioed. "I do not like to share my things."

"So you enjoy complete ownership, is that it? Complete domination of the body of your slave?"

"Yes."

Greyback's jaw clicked with his restrained anger. "Nonetheless, I believe a punishment is in order. Wolves, strip the Mudblood. Beta, remain kneeling until I tell you to stop."

Hermione huddled in on herself, feeling the eyes of the Death Eaters and the wolf pack on her corseted back as she did so. The last thing she wanted was to be stripped. She didn't want to know what would happen when they were done.

Huddling did nothing to help her. She screamed in a blind panic as she felt multiple hands grabbing at her dress, dragging out the emotional torment as they hauled her to her feet. Hermione felt anger rush up to meet her as she fought and kicked, relishing in the satisfying feeling of her fists smashing against the werewolves' flesh. She could feel her magic crackling beneath her skin, begging her to fight back the way a witch should.

Oh, sod it all, Hermione thought viciously, and then she gave in.

Hermione's magic exploded outward as she cast a wandless reducto maxima, sending everyone except Greyback flying backward. Some of them landed in a heap in the pathway of the door and Hermione realized this was her only chance to get away. If she could get to the Floo, she could get out and get help. Malfoy would understand, he would understand that she couldn't . . . That she didn't want . . . He would forgive her. He had to.

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy," Hermione said, tears filling her eyes as she fell to her knees before him and snatched up his wand. "I have to - I need to -"

"Just fucking get out of here. Now, Hermione."

She gave him one last sincere look and then whirled around, hoping Malfoy's wand answered to her. She sent a spell hurtling towards Greyback. Much to her chagrin, Cecilia jumped forward and blocked it with a shield spell, forcing Hermione to have to send a stupefy in her direction. The Healer collapsed against Enicto, causing him to drop his wand and topple them both. Hermione's eyes went wide as Greyback roared and began to turn.

There was no way she could get through him to the Floo. Once he was a wolf, there would be no getting past him. She had to get outside, past the Manor's Anti-Apparition wards, and she needed to go now.

Hermione turned and dashed forward, casting a confringo that sent the wolves in her path soaring to the left and the right. She whipped the wand over her head and blasted the doors to the Drawing Room open, and then she ran. Her heels clacked against the stone ground as she went, and she sent every battle spell she knew backwards over her shoulders. It was just like in Seventh Year, when she'd run from the Snatchers, only this time, she was inside the Malfoy Manor and in considerably more distress. Her hair flew out behind her like a curtain of milk chocolate waves as she made her way to the front door.

Without warning, she felt someone's paws against her back, slamming her down onto the ground and snarling above her. She gasped for air as its heavy body bore down on her, and it was all she could do to keep her hold on Malfoy's wand. When she realized she wasn't going to stay conscious long enough to make any moves with it, she gathered all of her magic within her and cast another wandless spell. She was fortunate it worked, because she was able to breathe the moment the wolf went flying.

Hermione didn't look behind her, and wasted no time gathering her skirt up and making a break for the front door again. She whirled around at the front door, casting another attack spell at Demetri, who was rounding the corner of the hallway.

She missed.

Demetri flashed forward and slammed her up against the door with his hand around her throat and squeezed so hard she dropped the wand on reflex. Her hands scrambled at his, trying to gain some reprieve to suck in fresh air, but he only seemed to tighten his hold. Soon, she went limp, her vision swimming, and he let her collapse onto the floor.

"Bring her back into the Drawing Room," came a snippy Cecilia's voice from behind Demetri. "The little bitch is going to get what's coming to her."

Hermione could only lie there in a daze as Demetri dragged her bodily by the ankles, her arms thrown up haphazardly by her head. She registered feeling dismay at having failed, foolishness at having thought that there was any way out of this, and terror at whatever awaited her in the Drawing Room. She heard her heart beating in her ears, and felt the anger of Greyback wafting through the room in waves.

Hermione was dropped in an unceremonious heap on the stone ground next to where Malfoy still knelt. She briefly wondered why he hadn't gotten up or moved, and then she realized that Greyback likely had to give him permission to get up. She rolled over onto her stomach, catching a glimpse of him glaring at the ground, and then she lifted herself up onto her hands and knees. She had to be strong. She was the only one of the two of them who had the ability to fight back.

Before them, the pack and the Death Eaters assembled on the blood-soaked carpet between the furniture while Greyback, in full wolf form, stalked back and forth. He snarled at her, his tail hanging down between his legs angrily as he very visibly decided what to do with them.

"Is she your Mudblood or your lover?" Greyback snapped, his tongue snaking out to lick his chops. "I'm having a difficult time discerning the difference."

"She's my Mudblood," Malfoy replied, and he sounded as though his anger were being held behind a wall.

Hermione looked over at him. Why hadn't he transformed yet? She remembered Greyback saying "before his time." Did that mean that every wolf had a specific time that they turned?

"Then why do you fight for her as though she's your mate?!" Greyback's roar startled Hermione, and she flinched away from him, from them both.

Malfoy's head snapped up and his eyes blazed with the white-hot intensity of a star.

"Because she's mine."

Hermione felt her heart skip several beats and she carefully kept her head down, her palms feeling clammy against the stone. He'd been saying that all evening and yet here, now, knowing that he was saying it with fire in his eyes and conviction in his voice, made her feel as though a veil of some sort had lifted.

"Punish her for your insolence, then," Greyback ordered, his body shaking with rage. "You dared to challenge your alpha multiple times, knowing what you were, and you must be punished for that."

"She's not my mate."

"Oh, I'm aware, little beta," Greyback hissed out, his sharp teeth mere inches away from Malfoy's face. "This little display is for me. I want to hear the Mudblood scream. I want to see what's so exquisite about her that you'll challenge your alpha to keep her to yourself."

Malfoy clenched his fists at his sides, still kneeling on one knee, and he didn't move.

Greyback howled and before Hermione could blink, two werewolves came forward and hauled Hermione up under the arms. She let out a cry of frustration, digging her heels in and trying to wrench herself from their grasps, but it was no use.

Before she knew what had happened, she was bent over the arm of the loveseat, just like she'd been this morning. One wolf stood behind the couch, near the cushion by her head, holding her arms above her and keeping her immobile. She whimpered as she realized what might be about to happen and choosing to stay at the Manor, like what happened this morning when she'd asked Malfoy to prepare her, was a mistake.

But nothing Malfoy did could have prepared Hermione for the sheer, unadulterated terror that tore its way through her body when another wolf's paw pressed down on the center of her back and pinned her in the humiliating position. She could hardly breathe, and her hands scrabbled at the couch seat for purchase, her heels scraping and catching in the carpet and the hem of her long dress.

"I said, punish the Mudblood, beta. The way a disobedient little rat deserves to be punished," Greyback said from his place near the fireplace.

Hermione could do nothing except wait for something to happen. She turned her face towards the back of the loveseat, not wanting to have to have the added embarrassment of seeing everyone watching her.

She supposed she asked for this to happen. She was stupid. A bloody, barmy fool. She'd been naive. Reckless. She'd thought all she'd have to do was follow some orders until they were done eating, and the information would just pour out. But so far, all they'd really learned was about a potion, that Greyback was huge and could speak while in his wolf form, and that he could force Malfoy to do whatever he wanted.

Cecilia's voice suddenly blurted out, "Spank her. I want to see you spank her for being so bloody naughty."

Hermione's head whipped back around and she blushed in spite of the terrifying nightmare she was in. Greyback was glaring at them, sitting back on his haunches as his pack and the Death Eaters gathered around him. Cecilia began giggling almost girlishly, and she leaned against the side of the large wolf's body, her fingers combing through the fur behind his pointed ears.

Malfoy did nothing. Hermione was simultaneously full of regret and grateful for his defiance, because while it told her he didn't want to hurt her, it also told her that things were only going to get worse. She wasn't clear if Greyback knew the truth about her and Malfoy, that she wasn't actually his Mudblood pet, but she feared that if he found out for certain, he would force Malfoy to kill her. They were in a helpless situation, and Hermione didn't know what to do.

Greyback growled in warning and moved away. "Do it, beta. Or I will."

Hermione felt the silence stretched on, the fear-filled anticipation causing her to squeeze her eyes shut as tightly as she could. She couldn't see Malfoy from her position, so she didn't know how fast or slow he was walking across the Drawing Room. She took deep breaths, counting, flinching when she felt Malfoy's hand on her lower back, pressing her down on the arm of the chair.

Then, he hit her.

She yelped, feeling the sharp sting of his palm against her rear. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be, thank Merlin, and she was left hopeful that it would be the end of it.

Sadly, it was not.

"Do it again!" Cecilia cried, sounding for all the world like Bellatrix Lestrange. "Again!"

"Now, Malfoy," Greyback added, solidifying the unfightable order.

Malfoy's pressing hand slid a bit higher up her back, almost in a soothing motion, and then pushed her pelvis down again. Hermione let out a wail as his palm once again connected with her backside, much harder than the first time. Her legs shook as the pain reverberated through her lower body, and she forcibly reminded herself that it wasn't his fault, that he'd tried to fight back, but Greyback had complete control over him. That he was a werewolf, a beta to Greyback's alpha, and that it must have meant that he couldn't fight back. Because he'd promised she wouldn't get hurt, and yet she'd been getting hurt all night. Right in the room where she'd last been tortured.

It didn't make it hurt any less, and she knew she would never set foot in this room again.

"Harder!" Cecilia and Greyback snarled simultaneously.

Once again, Malfoy pressed down on her lower back, holding her firm so she couldn't move away. Her heart rate picked up. There was a split second where she felt Malfoy's hand almost massagingher buttocks, as if preparing her for what was to come, and she whimpered. She couldn't help it, she had to try and stop him.

"P-Please," she stammered, curling the fingers of her right hand around the edge of the cushion. "I'll . . . I'll do anything you want. Anything."

"Anything?" Greyback leered, his tongue snaking out to lick his teeth hungrily.

"Anything, I swear," she whispered. "I swear, just . . . Please . . ."

"All right. Scream," he said, and his jaws snapped shut millimeters away from her ear. "Now, beta."

Hermione felt a scream ripping its way out of her throat unbidden as Malfoy hit her so hard she nearly blacked out. Spots sparkled in her vision, and her entire body went limp as agony coursed its way through her body.

Cecilia squealed in delight, and then Hermione heard her say, "Can I torture her? Pretty please, darling Fenrir?"

"Beta, stand down!" Greyback snapped and then he nuzzled Cecilia. "Be my guest."

Cecilia sauntered forward and lifted some of Hermione's hair with her wand. Their eyes met, and her smile was cruel.

"Crucio!"

Pain. Pain she'd felt before, but would never get used to. She briefly registered herself rolling off of the couch and onto the floor. Her veins sizzled up in the inferno of agony that rocked her body and sent it careening into violent, convulsing fits. By the time it was over, Hermione was practically drooling onto the carpet.

Out of the corner of her tear-flooded eyes, her backside still stinging and throbbing, her muscles trembling with the after-effects of the cruciatus, Hermione saw several people start forward towards her. Frightened, she moved herself into a sitting position, hair a disaster about her head, and scrambled backward until she hit Malfoy's leg. She felt his hand twisting in her hair possessively.

"No one . . . Touches her . . . Again," he hissed.

Another mistake. Everything about this night was one big, giant bloody mistake.

"I grow tired of your defiance, beta," Greyback spat, and as he did, Demetri and Enicto both raised their wands and pointed them at Malfoy's chest. "You belong to me. Therefore what belongs to you belongs to me."

"I think you ought to take away the one thing he has to control her," Cecilia said, placing one hand on her hip and pointing to Hermione with her wand. "He uses denial of pleasure, and it keeps her bending to his every whim. Take that away, and he'll no more own the hair on her head than he will her obedience. He'll have to break her all over again."

Hermione's mind worked to catch up with the words she was saying and even though she didn't entirely know what Cecilia had in mind, she knew for a fact she didn't want anything to do with it.

"Malfoy, no," she pleaded while looking up at him, shaking her head and trying to remove his fingers from her hair. "Please, I'll do anything else. Anything else. Please."

"I said none of you are to touch her," Malfoy said. "And I meant that."

"So protective. As you wish." Greyback grinned, bloodstained pearls amongst a grey shell. Hermione's heart sank. "Mudblood, I want you to strip down so we can all see that dirty, muddy body. And if you don't, I'll do it for you."

Malfoy took a threatening step forward, letting go of Hermione's hair. "No. She's mine to do with as I please."

Greyback snarled and faced him, his tail twitching with agitation. "And you will not stop her Malfoy. If you stop her, I will let the entire pack have her. We'll see if she's so obedient then."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. There was no way out of this. It was her against everyone else. Malfoy was trying so hard, she could tell, but it was the pack dynamics. He wasn't strong enough to fight them, and it wasn't his fault. But Merlin, she didn't want to do this. She didn't know if she could. To sit on the loveseat in front of nearly 10 magical creatures and wizards, naked . . . It was like what Azalea Chirithy had done to her, only much worse. What would they make her do once she was undressed? How could she, and go back to Hogwarts, to her friends, acting as though nothing had happened?

As her eyes flickered through the room, taking stock of all the wolves standing there leering at her, a shudder ran through her body. If Greyback sent them all to attack her at once, she wouldn't survive. There'd be no coming back from that.

Hermione glanced over at Gareth's slave, who stared back at her for the first time with something in her eyes. It was sympathy, Hermione could tell, and as their eyes met, the Muggle-born gave her the tiniest of nods. As if to say, "it's okay. Me, too." Hermione's faltering resolve suddenly solidified.

What would happen to Gareth's slave if they got bored of Hermione?

She had to do it. It was either do it, humiliate herself, and get it over with, or face potentially worse consequences for her and the other Muggle-born for not doing it.

She stood up suddenly, swaying slightly on her feet as pain rocketed through her backside. Malfoy looked at her sharply, as did everyone else, and Hermione lifted her chin.

I'm a Gryffindor, she told herself. I'll just close my eyes and get it over with.

"I will do it," she said firmly. Then, as an afterthought just in case, she added, "For my . . . For my Master."

There was a second of silence where Malfoy just stared at her with a bewildered, incredulous look in his silver eyes, and Hermione thought that Greyback might have already figured out the truth.

Luck and Merlin were on their side, however, because Greyback bared his sharp teeth in a frightful excuse for a smile.

"I can see why you've been so protective over your Mudblood all evening, Malfoy," he ground out. "She aims to please."

Malfoy's reflexes were quick. Hermione watched as his Death Eater mask slipped back into place like smoke, and then his hand slid up into her hair. He kept his eyes trained on hers, which she mirrored in their blankness, and a silent promise passed between the two of them.

We get through this together, or we don't get through this at all.

"It's as I said. She is utterly and completed owned by me. You can understand why I would fight to preserve that." Malfoy twisted her hair. He did it gently, but Hermione feigned a wince.

"Why, yes," Greyback mused, sitting back on his haunches again. His sunset-colored eyes flashed. "All the more reason why us all laying eyes on the body you've been working so hard to hide from us will be a proper punishment."

"A just punishment, milord," Gareth said, and Hermione tried not to be sick as he licked his lips. "And a fitting end to this night, wouldn't you say?"

"I would indeed," Greyback echoed. "Mudblood. Unlace your dress."

Hermione slowly reached up behind her and began to untie the lacing on her dress. At first, she felt like she was okay. It was just skin, just her body. But as the laces got looser and looser, her breathing grew more shallow and her panic levels rose.

Once her knickers were off, what would they do to her? She would be completely vulnerable. What if they attacked her, and Greyback used his power to keep Malfoy from stopping them?

By the time she was pulling the straps down her arms, her entire body was shaking so hard that her teeth chattered if she didn't grit them. She didn't want to pull the dress down, knowing that she wasn't wearing anything on her chest beneath the fabric, but she knew she had to. Hermione kept looking at Gareth's slave, remembering that she was doing this to keep the attention off of her, remembering that if she didn't do this, worse things would happen.

Two days ago, she'd thought this trip was just supposed to be exploratory. She was there to be able to go to the Ministry, and to provide Malfoy with blood. That was supposed to be it. And somehow, it had gotten so, so much worse. It was overwhelming, when she thought about it, and it felt unreal. Like she was existing in the space between worlds, suspended in a Hellish limbo that had no exit or entrance. To think that just days ago, she and Malfoy both were sitting on the same side of the table, mingling in a strange sort of dance with their fellow Eighth Years, and now they were going through this? She just wanted to go back. She wished she could go back and come up with another way to preserve her blood for him while he was away from the school.

Hermione brought her mind back to the present. She looked at Malfoy and he held her gaze calmly. The mask was back up, but his eyes remained utterly him. If it weren't for that, she didn't think she could stand the loneliness she would have felt. Gratitude welled up in her chest and then, facing him, she lowered her dress to her hips.

The air in the ambient lighting of the Drawing Room was cold on her skin. She shivered as gooseflesh raised all over her torso, and she looked at Malfoy again. He didn't look down at her body, and for that, she was thankful. She wished she didn't have to turn around.

"All the way off, please," came Greyback's voice from behind.

Hermione once again rerouted her mind. If she wasn't careful, her nerves were only going to make Greyback angry. And she didn't want to make him angry.

The dress pooled on the ground and she stepped out of it, covering her breasts with her palms. She stood there in her knickers and heels, dangerously close to losing her resolve.

"Turn around, you little minx," Demetri called out. "It's not as if we haven't seen anything like it."

She was shaking, hyper-aware of everything in the room around her. The fire crackling in the fireplace. The blood and body parts on the carpets. The eyes drinking in the sight of her with lustful greed. Gareth's slave on her knees beside a panting Gareth. Malfoy with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes downcast. The wind howling outside, underneath a full moon hidden behind velvet drapes.

She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget any of these things.

"Merlin, you bloody half-breed," Cecilia snapped. "Face us and take off the knickers!"

Hermione flinched. She did as they ordered, turning to face the small crowd and keeping her head down. With a tremulous hand, Hermione began to pull down her knickers. She kept her arm over her chest to hide it even though it felt unnecessary.

This was humiliating.

"Leave the shoes on," Gareth said, and it sounded like he was salivating. When Hermione looked at him, she was sickened to see him touching himself.

Hermione pulled her hair forward, glad that it was so long, and let it cover her breasts. She covered her mons with her hands, fully aware that her bottom was completely bare for Malfoy to see. She hoped he wasn't looking, but she supposed it didn't matter. She was completely at their mercy.

She glanced at Gareth's slave. She was doing this for her, to keep her safe. It was worth it. It had to be.

"Sit down on the chaise," Greyback ordered. He began to stalk around the loveseat in a circle, threatening and sinister.

Hermione sat down, glad to have some way of hiding herself. She exhaled heavily, but the reprieve was short-lived.

Cecilia strutted over, placing one hand on her hip. She gave Malfoy a sour look. "We can't touch her at all?"

"None of you can." Malfoy's voice was a growl.

"Then I want you to do what I cannot. Take off your belt, transfigure it into a whip, and whip her until she nearly bleeds."

Malfoy stared at her with incredulity, and Hermione didn't even care that they might break their roles. She wasn't daft - Greyback probably knew that they were faking it, and what Cecilia was suggesting would be agony.

"Malfoy, please," she said, her tone taking on a desperate edge.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Malfoy spluttered to Cecilia, running a hand through his hair. "Absolutely not."

The wolves began to growl and snarl, and Greyback bared his fangs.

"Do what my mate asks, beta. Whip her."

Hermione felt a cloud of panic rising in her chest and tears stinging her eyes. It was going to hurt. Probably worse than the cruciatus.

She was petrified.

"I can offer my slave instead?" Gareth suggested when Malfoy and Hermione both hadn't moved.

Hermione's eyes widened. She didn't want that. Gareth's slave had already likely suffered enough.

"I'll do it," she said quickly, her eyes lifting to Cecilia, who still stood in front of her.

Suddenly, the cushion beside her shifted and she felt a hand gripping her chin. Malfoy was perched on the loveseat on one knee, leaning over her with his left hand on the back of the couch and his right hand on her chin. And his eyes - those eyes - were so full. It was like they were rolled in fire and dipped in molten silver, and they were scorching her skin. They were burning her alive, and her skin felt hot. Much too hot with her fear. It was him, and she was herself, and he would never hurt her if he could help it.

She had to let this happen without a fight. He was trying to salvage this, so she needed to do her part.

He spoke then, and it was a threat for the sake of the audience, but it heated the pool in her body even hotter with the way the words curled lazily out of his mouth, dripping from his tongue like Amortentia. And she wanted to taste it, to believe that he would do this as gently as he possibly could.

"Don't protest, Mudblood," he hissed. "Or I'll bend you over this chaise and fuck you in front of everyone here."

"Yes, Master," she said, but in spite of her inner strength, her voice was high-pitched from her fear.

Malfoy leaned forward, his hand still gripping her chin, lips brushing her ear. "Just pretend no one else is here, all right? It's just us . . ."

Just us? Hermione saw Greyback stalking back around the couch, and she wondered how she could ever actually manage to pretend that it was just the two of them, alone in the room. As though she would ever let him whip her. Her lower lip trembled but she kept her mind on Gareth's slave.

Malfoy stood up and averted his eyes as he removed his belt. He accioed his wand, which came flying in all the way from the front entryway where she'd dropped it, and used it to follow Cecilia's introductions. The whip was black as night and looked the way she imagined one would look: like a very long, thin snake. He began to unravel it and she wondered if he weren't pretending not to care, if he would have the decency to look queasy.

"Spread your legs, muddy, and sit on your hands," Cecilia said, and Hermione began to tremble again. She sounded exactly like Bellatrix. The scar on her arm pulsed at the thought.

Hermione hesitated, looking to Malfoy. She started to shake her head, but his brow furrowed and he gave her a warning look. She tried not to let out a noise of frustration and then she slowly did what Cecilia told her to do.

Nausea set her stomach to a roil as she opened her legs about a foot. Tears blurred her vision and she turned her face down and away, slipping her trembling hands beneath her and sitting on them. Though the rest of the room was deathly silent, Cecilia laughed almost maniacally for a second.

"It's almost criminal for something so filthy to have such a perfect body," Cecilia said, and then she moved back over to the fireplace. Hermione felt the sting of her words as though Malfoy had already begun.

"Push your hair back," Gareth said, clearing his throat.

"Please, don't make me," Hermione said, looking to Malfoy. She was already sitting there with her womanhood on full display, and it was traumatizing. She needed to have at least something in her control. The ends of her thick hair were tickling her hips, and were the only barrier she had between her breasts and the monsters' eyes. As she sat there, she felt the still-open wounds from Demetri's fangs throbbing.

Greyback began to circle the couch like a predator around its prey again, and she looked at him in terror. What if he took the whip from Malfoy and did it himself? He was huge. What if he was so impatient that he just killed her and -

"Hey," Malfoy growled, voice rough. She snapped her face back to look up at him. "You don't look at him. You don't look at anyone. You look at me. You don't belong to anyone else but me."

Hermione nodded quickly, and then she wet her lips nervously. She watched with growing concern as the tip of the whip dragged the ground as he moved back a ways. He removed his blazer, tossing it aside, and then loosened his tie. His facial expression was hard, and even through the mask, she knew he didn't have the stomach for this. She hoped he did, however, because if he didn't, she didn't want to know who did.

Malfoy rolled back the sleeves of his black button-up, and then Hermione sucked in her breath. There was no more stalling. It was happening.

"Begin," Greyback said.

Crack

The first lashing against her chest felt like a faint sting, like her body didn't realize it had happened. The second to her sternum burned, and the bite of the fading contact made her whimper. She willed herself not to scream as the third lash came down, and then the fourth and the fifth, on her arms and thighs.

This is Draco, she repeated to herself. Even though he's doing this, it's still him. It's still Draco.

Crack

Wounds were blossoming all over her upper body, each one stinging and burning. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut even tighter as the tenth lashing caught her on the edge of her core. The pain was acute and she thought she'd forgotten how to breathe. She opened her eyes, and when she looked at Malfoy, his face was twisted into a snarl.

This . . . This is Draco, she thought, and even her mind wept. Why does he look so angry with me? What did I do?

Hermione cowered against the couch as he drew his arm back, her shoulders lifting as she hunched slightly as if it could protect her. She closed her eyes before she could see it come down. It caught her on the abdomen, breaking through her skin, and it was all she could do not to scream.

Crack

She couldn't hold it in anymore. Each slash of the whip against her tender skin caused her to cry out. Her body shook violently from the pain, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She wanted to plead with him to stop, but she was terrified that they would punish the other girl.

Drops of blood rolled down from various wounds on her body, and she bit her lower lip until she tasted it. Her heart hurt and she felt exactly the way she had when she'd been tortured by Bellatrix. Scared and alone and in agony.

Did he blame her for making him do this? Had she not fought hard enough? She wished she hadn't looked at him. All she saw behind her closed eyelids was his face, blazing and open with ire, and she felt like everything was her fault. This entire night.

We both should have just left. All three of us - me, him, and Blaise. We should have hid somewhere until it was time to go back to school. What were we thinking, trying to take this on? We're so stupid. So bloody stupid.

We're just kids.

Hermione was having a panic attack, she could feel it. It was audible and unable to be ignored. Her silent tears had increased in volume, and her lungs were squeezing tighter and tighter. She gasped for breath, her eyes opening to stare at nothing as she struggled to breathe. The Drawing Room was huge, but it felt like it was too small, too much like a prison cell.

She'd reached the end of everything she had.

"Why, Draco," Enicto said, his first words in what felt like hours. "I do believe you've finally broken her."

"Funny," Greyback said, his claws clicking on the stone floor by the fireplace. "I distinctly remember you saying she broke so easily. You're a very good liar."

Malfoy suddenly threw the transfigured whip down and flashed forward to Hermione's side. Nearly catatonic, she barely registered him sitting on the couch beside her, pulling her against his side.

She stared at the back of the severed head on the floor.

"It's okay," Malfoy murmured, his tone more gentle than it had ever been. He dipped his head down to try and catch her gaze, but she was too disoriented to be able to focus on him. She felt one of his arms wrapping around her shoulders and the other one massaging the convulsing muscles of her arms. "I'm still here. It's okay."

But it wasn't okay. It wasn't.

"Get out," Malfoy snarled, his head snapping up. "All of you. Get the fuck out of my house."

Hermione let her mind fade out as the Floo flared up again and again. She didn't get a chance to see the other Muggle-born girl leaving, but she was relieved. She left, which meant she was alive. That's what mattered.

She closed her eyes and listened to her nightmare draw nearer to a close. She tried not to fall apart right there in Malfoy's arms. She just wanted it all to be over. She wanted them all to go, and she wanted to go to bed and sleep forever. She wanted to go back to Hogwarts. She wanted to sleep.

"This won't be the last time we meet, beta," she heard Greyback say.

"For your sake, I'm counting on it."

Silence. And then the Floo roared to life.

Malfoy seemed to go into overdrive, his hands continuously moving up and down her arms.

"It's all right, Hermione," he whispered, sounding panicked. "I'm so fucking - it's okay - they're gone. They're gone."

Hermione was starting to feel anxious again. When she looked down at her naked body, at the thin, hideous trails of blood that were creeping down her body and onto the carpet, she whimpered.

"Draco . . ."

"I know, love," he said as he massaged her trembling thighs. "I know. I know."

She didn't know what he knew. She just knew that she was in shock. He was smearing her blood all over her skin with his movements, causing her small wounds to hurt worse. His eyes lingered on her tear-stained face and then dropped to the fang marks on her neck. Hermione knew vampire bites didn't heal with spells. Was she going to have to wear Death Eater scars for the rest of her life?

"I don't want to cry. I don't w-want to. I d-don't."

His hands stilled on her forearms. He stared at her, eyes wide and wild.

"Cry," he said, his voice sounding breathless. "It's okay to."

Hermione stared at him, feeling the ache growing in her throat. Her heart hurt.

"You tried, right?" Her words were thin, reedy. Her eyes were full to the brim. She let out a sob. "You tried? Please say you tried?"

His mouth quivered and his brow furrowed, and then she saw the dam break behind his eyes like a lightning strike.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione." He gathered her up in his arms, and both of them pulled their legs onto the loveseat. "I tried. So fucking hard. I promise you, I tried."

Hermione felt his warmth settling in around her and she circled up into a ball, burying her face in his chest. She was still nude, still bleeding, would always be hurting. He was the one who hurt her.

But he was the only one she had. They'd gone through this together, survived it together, and she needed him.

The moment she felt a shudder run through his body, his arms and legs tightening around her, the dam broke within her. She dissolved into tears.

"It's all right," he said soothingly as she sobbed. "Shh. It's all right."

Seconds later, footsteps came pounding down the hallway and into the Drawing Room. Terror filled her body and she began to kick and flail wildly. Were they back? Had they come to harm her worse? Her sudden struggling caused her to smack Malfoy in the nose and slam her head against the underside of his chin. She tumbled to the floor, landing on top of her discarded dress, and Malfoy leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. He groaned and massaged his nose.

12:00am.

"Mate, I can't decide," came Blaise's anger-laden voice. "Should I cut your bloody head off for locking me in that room, or should I just follow through on my plan to punch you in the mouth . . . Merlin's beard."

He trailed off, no doubt seeing the carnage that lay strewn about the Drawing Room floor. Hermione barely mustered a blink. The atmosphere in the room felt heavy, and it reeked of blood and death. Hermione was embarrassed, knowing that Blaise was staring at her. Shame coloring her cheeks red, she pulled her torn dress back on and hurried to wipe her cheeks and eyes. She didn't bother with the laces in the back. Her wounds stung and protested as the fabric grazed them. Her neck wound was no longer dripping, but it hurt. She hoped there was a way to heal it. She reached for her knickers, mortified as she put them back on.

"Someone beat you to it," Malfoy said quietly to Blaise, hand combing back through his hair. "Help me clean up. Call some elves."

"Yeah," Blaise said. "Yes, of course, mate. Yeah . . ."

"Granger, go up to your room, all right?" He sounded exhausted. He stood up.

Hermione looked at him almost blearily, seeming confused, and his eyes searched hers. She couldn't read them.

"Go on, love. It's all right now. Up to your room."

Hermione walked on trembling legs past a stricken Blaise, her hair a completely mussed-up rat's nest on her head and her beautiful gown torn in multiple places. She held a hand against her roiling stomach, trying to sort her thoughts as she made the long trek back to her room.

She couldn't believe what had just happened, and with every step she took, she felt sicker and sicker at the thought that not only had she taken her clothes off with hardly any protest, but she hadn't even tried to fight. She kept telling herself that she hadn't had a choice, but she had. She always had a choice. The issue was that she just didn't want to pick the wrong one. Hermione made the decision almost on a whim, without even thinking about the consequences. Her skin was crawling and itching and she felt like she was going to be sick.

The moment she rounded the corner, she bent over and heaved up bile until her throat was raw and aching. She wandlessly vanished it, and that only served to make her feel worse. Because she'd had access to magic, and she had barely used it. And for what? The knowledge that Greyback was a big, talking wolf, and he used a special potion? It all seemed like such a huge sacrifice for two measly bits of information that may or may not be useful. It wasn't as if they were neck-deep in a five-year war with no hope of winning. She wasn't a spy for the Order, being sent in to Voldemort's house to sacrifice herself for the cause. They didn't even know if there was a cause.

Merlin, what were they thinking? They were just kids.

And yet, she'd taken the attention off the other Muggle-born. She'd managed to possibly save her life. Or at least spare it for that evening. That meant something to Hermione and to the girl. It was worth it, if she'd been able to save at least one of them.

She just wished she'd been able to save herself, or at least that Malfoy had been able to. And as much as she understood that he'd been doing his best all evening, barely holding on, she couldn't help but feel angry with him. Not only had he put her in that situation by telling Greyback she was his slave, but he hadn't toldher he was a werewolf. It was the full moon, too, so what did he expect was going to happen when he eventually transformed? Was he going to make a habitof putting her in harm's way? If they were going to have a relationship, then . . .

Hermione's stomach twisted. A relationship. With Malfoy. It was unreal. He'd said the word "Mudblood" too easily that night. He had no intentions of seeing her in that light.

But that felt unintelligent to even say or think. It was clear that he felt something for her that strayed from hatred and possibly went beyond platonic feelings. But was it just the magical creature in him? Was he both Veela and werewolf, with an enhanced need to protect her? And why had he chosen her in the first place? Why not some other girl, like a Slytherin or Pureblood witch?

Still, she couldn't deny her own feelings for him. She couldn't deny that her feelings for him were growing from simple fancy, especially after what she'd just experienced with him. She didn't know how they were going to overcome this, to overcome the bruising on her backside and the wounds on her frontside. But she knew she wasn't going anywhere, and she was all the stupider for it.

That made her the angriest of all.

When Hermione got into her room, she fought back tears. She didn't want to cry again, not after that. She felt like it would give whatever cruel God ran the universe a reason to laugh at her for being stupid enough to take such a huge risk and stay for the Revel. She closed her door and walked stiffly over to her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror as she slowly pulled the diamond pin out of her hair. It was broken.

Hermione's body was littered with bruises, and her rear end hurt so bad she could hardly think. She had scrapes and a bit of a rash on her shoulder blades from being dragged from the entryway to the Drawing Room, and her scalp was tender from having her hair pulled on so many times. The whip wounds were small but numerous, and they still ached and smarted. Blood was drying all over her torso.

She could feel herself getting angrier by the second, thinking of everything that had happened since that morning. She was covered in bruises, all for nothing. For nothing. And it could have been avoided had Malfoy simply told her he was a werewolf. She would have been fully informed, she would have been able to come up with something, some . . . Some way of -

A knock came at the door.

"What?"

"I have your wand," Malfoy's voice was muffled. She didn't want to see him right now, but she wanted her wand. She wanted her wand more than anything. She wanted to feel safe.

Hermione didn't answer, instead choosing to run the hairbrush that sat on the vanity table through her waves. She watched as they puffed up, wincing as the brush ran through tangle after tangle. Sometimes, she hated her hair. She hated how no matter what she did, no matter her accomplishments or the intelligence she possessed or the things she said, all that anyone ever saw was her hair. She didn't want to cut it off, but now, with the feeling of fingers wrapped in the long strands, pulling and yanking, she was tempted.

The door opened, and Malfoy stepped inside, twirling her wand between his fingers. His silver eyes pierced into her reflection, but she just kept brushing her hair. She brushed and brushed and brushed, imagining that every knot was a werewolf, that every tangle was Malfoy's fingers digging into the back of her neck, or his vehement hiss of the word, "Mudblood." Her eyes stung as she tried to figure out how in Merlin's hut she was going to overcome this night.

She didn't even feel like Hermione Granger anymore.

Slowly, he crossed the room and stood beside her, the heat of his body washing over her and reminding her of the heat of the fire in the Drawing Room. He took the brush from her with a soft hand and set it lightly upon the vanity table. Then, he held her wand out to her.

She snatched it up and clutched it close to her chest, keeping her eyes down on the ground. Because that's what he preferred, wasn't it? He'd been so quick to call her Mudblood, so good at playing his role. He wanted her to be subservient, calling him Master and telling him he rewarded her.

Malfoy's hand lifted from his side and moved to touch her jaw, but she pulled away from him, taking a step to the right. He drew his hand back and then pushed his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

"I don't know . . ." He seemed to be confused about what he could say.

"You don't know?" Hermione hissed, whirling on him. "What don't you know, Malfoy?"

He averted his eyes, like a chastised child. "I don't know what I can say."

"There is nothing you can say," she snapped. "There's nothing you can say. That was . . . That wasn't what I thought it would be."

"Well, what did you think it would be?" he asked, raising his voice and placing his hand on the table beside them. "Hm? Did you think it would be Hogsmeade and Butterbeer? Did you think we'd all sit around the table at Hogwarts, eating Christmas dinner?"

"I don't know!" she cried, throwing her hands up into the air. "I don't know what I thought. But what I do know is you promised I wouldn't get hurt, and -"

"I know what I promised!" he said harshly, and then he took a step closer and spoke again, gentler. "I know what I promised, Granger."

"They why did you break it? Why did you . . . ?" She glared at the ground and smacked his hand away when he reached for her face again. "That was mortifying for me, Malfoy. It was . . . I can't . . ."

"Granger . . ." His hand made it up to her cheekbone before she snapped.

"No!" she screamed, shoving her hands against his chest so that he stumbled back a few steps. "No, you don't have permission to touch me like you care about me! Not after everything . . . After what you did . . . I can't even look at y-you."

Hermione's voice broke and she turned away from him, limping towards the window in her ridiculous heeled shoes. The moon was full and heavy in the sky, bathing the dark room in a luminescent glow. She looked out at the grounds, at the intricately-designed hedge maze and the gardens, and she wondered how an estate so beautiful could hold such terrible darkness inside of it.

It was true, though. She couldn't look at him. When she looked at Malfoy, she felt the turmoil of her feelings: affection warring with loathing, trust with betrayal. A distinct split between wanting to fall into him and receive some sort of comfort, and wanting him to leave her life for good.

Since the beginning of the year, even though it had only been three months, things had changed so much that even before tonight, she'd felt unlike herself. She used to hate him, to spit on the ground he walked on. Now, she felt like he was the only person who understood her, and like they truly existed together in that space between worlds. The space between Muggle-born and Pureblood. That space between magic and Muggle. And it was their world, their space, and she didn't want to share it with anyone but him.

She couldn't look at him because she knew that if she did, she would find some way or some reason to forgive him, just because she didn't want to have to float alone.

"Those girls," Hermione whispered, her tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks once again. "Those poor witches. Their families must miss them terribly, and I was here with them. I was here, and I didn't even help them."

"You couldn't, Granger," Malfoy said from behind her. He sounded as though he were still at the vanity. "You weren't exactly in a position -"

"What position was I in, then?" Hermione cut him off. "I had access to my magic. I could have done something more to help them, to help myself. But I just let it all happen. I just letthose . . . Those monsters hurt them. Orchid, and - and - the witch with Demetri. I just sat there."

"You didn't let anything happen, Granger. You -"

"Yes, I did!" And at this, she whirled around to face him. "I could have used softening charms, or a charm to make the pain more bearable for them. I could have done something more, instead of merely kneeling there like a familiar and waiting for my owner to pet me!"

"Are you going to stop interrupting me?" Malfoy growled, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the table. "Because we can't have a civil discussion if you can't get yourself sorted."

Hermione sucked in her breath, mind reeling with rage, and she sat down on the wide windowsill. She wanted to take her dress off and cast incendio on it, just like she had with her dress the night after Theo's attack.

The truth was, she didn't want to have a civil discussion. She wanted to be uncivil and primal, and she wanted to scream. She wanted to do all the things she hadn't been able to do at the Revel, and she wanted him to understand that even though she understood that a lot of it wasn't his fault, he still had a choice in how deep he let it go.

"It was too real," she said, wringing her hands in her lap. "The way you . . . Everything you said . . . It was too real, like it . . . Like it all meant something to you."

Malfoy clenched his teeth, and she could see his jaw clicking. "How d'you mean?"

Hermione shot him a scathing look. "You forgot to add the 'Mudblood' to the end of that question."

"Come off it, Granger. You knew I had to play a role this evening. You knew what it was going to be like."

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "No. That is not what we discussed."

"Because we hardly discussed anything!" Malfoy cried, gesturing with his hand.

"That's because your idea of preparation involved traumatizing me in the Drawing Room this afternoon!"

"And I was right to do so, Granger! Look what happened tonight. What could have happened. We barely got out of there by the skin of our hands!"

"But I still got hurt!" she cried, furiously wiping her eyes. "I still got hurt, and so did they, and I just sat there. I -"

"So did I," he cut her off, his brows knitting together and gaze fixated directly upon her. "Or do you not recall?"

"What?" Another tear fell, which she quickly wiped away.

"Last year," he said as he took a step toward her at the window. He looked serious yet angry, all at once. "When you were lying on my bloody Drawing Room floor, I just stood there and watched. And you know why? It's because I was scared, Granger. And just because I was scared, didn't mean that it was my fault that it happened. So that's how I know it wasn't your fault that they killed those witches. Even good witches fail sometimes, Granger."

Hermione looked up and he was standing right in front of her, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The moonlight caused his hair to look paler, almost white, and his eyes seemed to glow. She got lost in those eyes, as she always did, and barely registered herself leaning forward, her body pressing against his as she buried her face in the black fabric of his shirt.

He was right. That night at the Manor, with Bellatrix . . . Malfoy had just stood there, looking away, pretending it wasn't happening, and even though it was something she was still dealing with, she'd never once thought to herself that it was Malfoy's fault. He'd been terrified, terrified of Voldemort, terrified of everything. They all were that year. They were just children, seventeen years old, fighting a war for adults who couldn't see the signs that she and her friends had seen, years before Voldemort ever came back into power.

"And you are good, Granger," Malfoy went on to say, his hands hovering over her shoulders, not touching her in his caution. "You're kind and compassionate. You're dedicated, and you don't give up, even when I want to hex you to get you to cease. And you're bloody brilliant - everything you do is bloody brilliant. That's how I know for certain that if you had the chance, if you had the opportunity, you would have saved them."

Hermione leaned back, hugging her arms around her waist. "Then why do I feel like a bad person?"

"You're not a -"

Hermione shook her head and shoved past him, beginning to pace. "No. No, you don't understand. How can you say I'm a good person after everything that's happened this year? I went against the entire world, against my friends, against everyone, and spoke for your father."

"And I'm grateful for that -"

Hermione started counting the reasons why she was mad at him, and angry with herself on her hands. "I was supposed to spend this year in Advanced Potions, learning what I could so that I could help my parents regain their memories after graduation."

He pulled his head back in an expression of bemusion. "What's happened to your parents? Granger, I can -"

"Then, instead of making up with my friends, I've spent the last two months letting you consume my blood just to keep you from withering because I thought you were a Veela . . . Only to find out you've kept the truth from me the entire time!"

"I wasn't -"

"How long?" She put her hands on her hips.

"How long what?" His hands were tangled in his hair, and he looked distressed. "What are you talking about, you bloody witch?!"

"How long have you known you were a werewolf?" she yelled, clapping her hands to punctuate the words.

He blinked and then he lowered his eyes. "Since last month. But I didn't want to . . ."

"Didn't want to what?" Hermione was beside herself. What had he been thinking? Did he just plan on locking himself inside his room while she was in the next one over? Putting her and Blaise in possible danger? First he agreed to host the damn Revel in his house, of all places, and then this? It was unconscionable.

"I don't . . . I don't fucking know, okay? I don't fucking know what I'm doing, Granger! I didn't ask for this, for any of this. I came back this year to finish my exams, and then move on with my life after the war. And then you fucking . . . You just happened. You just happened, and I couldn't think about anything or anyone else. The only thing I could think about was you. And after, I guess, Crabbe scratched me . . . Anyway, it happened out of nowhere, and with the Ministry laws, I just . . ."

The words were tumbling out of him in a rush, and he looked lost. More lost and human than Hermione had ever seen him look. He was staring down at his hands, as if he could see something there that Hermione couldn't.

"I don't want to be a werewolf, Granger," he said softly. "But I don't think that's all I am."

Hermione pressed her lips together, resisting her natural urge to be compassionate and comfort him. She was angry still, angry for everything, and she needed to get it all out. Even if what he was implying - that he might be both werewolf and Veela - was something that needed to be talked about. It could be talked about later, when she wasn't seething.

"I understand what you're going through. I really do. But I have made it to the end of my broom with you, Draco Malfoy. And as odd as it feels to be at the end of my bloody broom with you, that's where I am. I have given and given, and you have taken and taken from me. And this one night - this one night I needed you. I needed you to protect me and instead, you treated me like a - like a -"

"Like a what?"

"Like your property!" Hermione stamped her foot, emboldened. "You treated me like your property, and I know that's what we agreed to falsify, but it . . . It felt too real. I couldn't tell if you really meant it and now, I still can't tell."

"I treated you . . . ? Granger, I told you how it was going to be, and you agreed to it! I did exactly what I said I was going to do -"

"And more! You hurt me, Draco! You dug your fingers into my - my - my neck, and you grabbed my leg . . . And 'defiance is the storm'? What was that?"

"I was just pretending! I was only trying to make sure Greyback believed that I was still a Death Eater!"

"Well, you're a bloody good actor!" Hermione screamed, nearing the bed. He followed.

"A bloody good what?!" he shouted back, looming over her a mere foot away. "What in Merlin's bloody beard are you on about, Hermione?!"

Hermione stared at him from where she had sat on the bed, looking bedraggled and confused and irritated, and she realized that something was long overdue. She hauled back and slapped him across the face, her palm stinging from the force of it. Her hand hit him so hard that his hair lifted with the turn of his head and when he turned back to look at her, his eyes were blazing.

"I'll tell you what I'm on about, you foul git," she practically snarled, her eyes lit with fire from inside of her. "All you cared about today was your father's blasted company. You didn't even think about me or my safety when you agreed to host a damn Revel here at the Manor, didn't even hesitate when you were asked if I was your slave. You slapped me - you slapped me first - and you said you ought to beat me. Just admit it: you're using me! You've been using me so you don't starve, or - or - or wither, and you used me tonight to keep your father's company intact!"

Malfoy lost his temper, obviously fed up with not being able to get a word in edgewise. "Oh, the company, the company. The bloody fucking company! Hermione, I don't care about the company! I care about you!"

Hermione was so far into her tirade, her emotions swirling as she tried to block out the memories of the night with her yelling, that she didn't register what he'd just said. She got up and walked a little ways away.

"I want to know why it is that you treated me so cruelly this morning. And why - and why, Draco - did you say all those things to the witch at the Ministry today. Why was it so easy for you to play your role tonight, hm? Do you think I'm less than you? Only fit to crawl in the dirt like filth?"

Malfoy's teeth bared in a snarl as he rose to his full height, "Why was it so easy for you to do it, then?! Why were you so quick to get down on your knees and follow me around like a familiar? Why was it so easy for you to play into your role all night, hm?"

"It was not easy!" Hermione cried, taking a step back as he advanced on her.

"Yes, it was, Miss 'I want you right now, master.' Your knickers were in a twist for me the moment I called you pet." He came closer, forcing Hermione to stumble backward. "You were just as good at playing the pet as I was playing the master."

"That's not true!" Lie.

"Oh, yes, it certainly is, little witch. I told you to say thank you when you hit a limit, and you said it one time. Your limits are awfully high, don't you think? Therefore, I think it's safe to say you and I waltzed this dance together. You threw yourself into it because you wanted to."

"That. Is. Not. True." Another lie, this time through clenched teeth.

"That is not true, sir."

"Don't use that against me!" Hermione spat out as she continued to back up, shaking her head in warning. "Don't you dare use that against me! I'm sick of you using things against me!"

Hermione's back hit the wall and she gasped, her mind flashing back to every horrible thing that had happened that night. Malfoy's hands in her hair, dragging her along the floor. Gareth licking his lips and looking upon her with lust. Greyback's razor-sharp teeth snapping near her face. Malfoy striking her and telling her he had to do it. Humiliated and degraded in front of a room full of monsters.

She'd never felt weaker.

She slid down to the carpeted floor, her knees pulled to her chest, hands lying prone on the floor beside her hips. Malfoy followed, kneeling down on one knee, his eyes glinting the way they always did when he looked at her now. There was no longer the hint of Malfoy.

It was all Draco.

"We both played our roles tonight, Granger. We both set out to make it believable. I did everything I possibly could to keep you safe. I tried. I made sure to cut everything short, as much as I could, including what happened at the end, toeing the line to make sure they didn't realize we were deceiving them. I challenged him, when I didn't even realize what I was doing - four times. Four times, all to defend you. And even though that makes no fucking sense to you, it makes sense to me. Because you're mine, and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

Hermione felt the shame coming from a mile away, building from the depths of her soul and crashing up against the shoddy walls she'd put up to help protect her from this night, from everything that had happened.

She hated that he was right. She hated that she had played her role perfectly, and it had come easy to her because she wanted to do it. In some sick way, she felt comfortable being subservient to Malfoy, subservient to someone that she hardly knew a thing about. Because she couldn't, for the life of her, ever remember another person caring about her so much that he'd risk his friendships and his reputation. That he'd shatter his morals and puncture the fabric of Pureblood society, just to punch someone like Crabbe in the face, or trick Greyback into thinking Hermione belonged to him so he wouldn't touch her. She hated that she felt so much more comfortable with someone who'd spent six years despising her than she did with her own best friends. She hated that she'd thrown herself so much into this something that she never stopped to check if her compassion was gaining her nothing.

And her skin was crawling. It was crawling and no matter how hard she tried to push it away, the memories just kept coming back. They just kept coming even though he'd kept to his word as much as he possibly, physically could. They just kept coming, and then it was tears that were coming, encasing the memories and pushing them out of her body, rejected like poison. Coming and coming and coming, a never ending flow of guilt and shame and sorrow.

Hermione sobbed.

"I mean it, Granger. I mean it. I tried my fucking hardest for you. You're mine, and I'm not letting anyone touch you again," he said.

"Why do you keep saying that? Why do you keep saying that?!"

Hermione lifted her face to look up at him and realized, with a deep wealth of emotion, that she couldn't bear to be apart from him for another second. She pushed herself forward, crawling until her arms were around his neck, continuing to push until he was sitting down on his bottom. And then she climbed into his lap, straddling it, wrapping the entirety of her being around him, legs and arms, burying her face into the side of his neck.

"Why did you keep saying that?" she continued to sob, because she didn't understand how anyone could ever want her to belong to them. She was swotty and she was annoying and she was weak and she was -

Draco's hand came up to tilt her chin upward, his face turning to hers. She viewed him through her tears, gasping for breath and pleading with her eyes for him to make it make sense. To make him caring for her make sense. And he gazed back at her, his jaw set and eyes alight with something that made her feel like crying harder.

"Because," he said, kissing the trail of tears on her right cheek.

"You're," he said, kissing the trail of tears on her left cheek.

"Mine," he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

His lips molded against hers, swallowing her sobs and consuming them, destroying her sadness and filling their space between worlds with the swelling of her heart. She felt her entire body coming alive, the pure desire that threaded through her being sending every bad thought, feeling, or memory flying into the back of her mind. She threw herself into the kiss with gusto, her hands pulling at his jawline beneath his ears, trying to get him as close as possible. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist on the floor, arching her back into the passionate melting of their tongues against one another's, and sent a desperate plea to Merlin to never let her go another second without feeling Draco's lips upon hers again.

Hermione felt Draco's hands sliding through her hair, cupping the back of her head, and he devoured her. He devoured her and she inhaled him, and they snogged as though the two worlds they existed between were crushing them together, desperate to snuff out the flames that had grown between them over the past three months. And Hermione was his, in that moment. She was completely his, and she never wanted to be anyone else's.

Draco Malfoy was kissing Hermione Granger, and it was everything. It was everything and it was nothing, all rolled up into one big explosion of past loathing and affection and possession and anger and pain and - Draco dragged his hands down to her hips, tilting his head and deepening a kiss that was already deeper than any Hermione could handle. Barely keeping up, Hermione twisted her fingers through his hair, resting her elbows on his shoulders.

1:00am.

Draco's hands went to her shoulders and shoved her back an inch, his chest heaving for oxygen and his eyes scorching her skin. He winced, baring his teeth in an almost snarl. Before Hermione could come soaring back into her body, a loud cracking noise sounded out and Draco's arms lifted her off of his body by the hips.

"Oh, fuck, you . . . You have to . . ." He broke off into a groan that rumbled through his chest. More cracking noises, and then he crawled backward a few feet. His head fell back and his spine arched upward as his it began to visibly shift.

"Draco?" Hermione said, reaching for him. "Draco, what's the matter?"

"I'm turning," he gasped desperately. "I'm turning, Hermione, you have to - fuckin' fuck!"

Draco cried out as his arms began to shift and twist and grow, and he ripped his tie off as fast as he could. He didn't protest as Hermione scrambled forward and began helping him unbutton his shirt, his head falling forward onto her shoulder as she pushed it off of his strained, reddening skin.

And then the flesh on his shoulders and arms began to tear, the skin peeling back, rolling away to reveal bloodied, snow-white fur. Hermione barely managed to keep it together enough to unbuckle his trousers as a wolflike whine released from between his lips, his hair tickling her neck.

"We've got to get your trousers off, Draco," she said in a soothing, shaking voice. "Come on, let's get them off."

Once they were off, Hermione turned her mind off to the sight of him in his pants, to the feeling of his skin slapping against her arms and legs as it shed from his rapidly growing, breaking body. She kept her hand in his hair, holding him kneeling against her as he shuddered and groaned. She was terrified, but she knew from experience that the last thing she needed to do in this situation was panic. He needed her to stay calm.

"Bloody Hell," he whimpered. "Bloody Hell, bloody Hell, bloody Hell."

Hermione's eyes nearly fell out of her skull as his entire back began to tear in multiple places, tufts of fur on a muscled, sinewy back bursting forth as though coming out of a shell. He screamed so loud her ears rang, and she heard the sound of scraping wood as he dug his claws into the floor by her hips. Her heart pounded faster. She knew the second he turned fully she was in danger, but he was in so much pain. He was a magical creature. He was Draco, and she couldn't just leave him.

"I'm gonna fucking -" was all he had time to say before he tore himself away from her and vomited bile all over the floor beside her. She quickly whirled around and wrapped her arm around his head, brushing his hair back.

"It's okay, Draco," she soothed, emotion thickening and cracking her voice. "I-It's okay, it-it's okay."

He sagged against her on his side, and she slipped her other hand up to wipe his tears as bone after bone broke in his body, morphing and turning him into the wolf that lurked inside of him. How had he endured this alone in October? How had he made it through this without saying anything to anyone?

Hermione was never letting it happen again.

"Draco, what do I do? How can I help?" Hermione hovered over his trembling body, continually casting wandless numbing charms on his body. But he didn't answer her. He was too far gone to the pain.

His back cracked and broke again, the spine twisting beneath the fur, growing larger. The skin on his hands peeled back like the skin of a fruit, curling away from muscular, fur-covered hands and long, deadly claws. The flesh of his thighs and calves began to thicken and split, becoming the same legs that Hermione had seen on Greyback.

"It hurts," Draco sobbed, his body convulsing and shivering. "It hurts."

Hermione felt her heart breaking in two. She'd never heard anyone in this much pain, not even Ron when he'd been splinched. It was awful. She felt more than helpless. He needed her and she couldn't even do anything. She felt her own tears beginning to fall, and she forced herself not to break down, knowing that she wouldn't do any good to him if she were a mess.

"It's all right," she cooed, pressing her forehead to his hair at the back of his head. "I'm here. I'm not leaving. It's all right."

"Please leave, Hermione," he begged through his tears. Another scream ripped from the depths of his throat as the flesh on his legs continued to slough off. "You have to leave. Please, please leave."

"Blaise!" Hermione screamed, clutching Draco tighter as another wave of agony and cracking bones roared through his body. "Blaise, help me! Blaise!"

"Forgive me," Draco's voice sounded strangled, anguish apparent as he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were completely silver, as silver as pure titanium. "Forgive me. Just please leave. I don't want to hurt you. Please, Hermione."

Hermione cupped his face between her hands. His skin was heated, feverish. "Draco, I -"

"Please."

"I'm not leaving!"

"Merlin, fuck, please just get the fuck out of here!" he shouted angrily, desperation painting lines in his face.

But the time for escape had passed.

Draco threw himself away from her, on hands and knees as his entire head began to change. He screamed again as his skull cracked and burst open, the pointed ears of a wolf jutting up from within. His nose and mouth elongated, becoming a snout and a set of strong jaws full of razor-sharp teeth. Hermione shrieked and scrambled backward on all fours as the last of the transformation completed and she lay cowering beneath a wolf that was every bit as big as Greyback's wolf, with pure white fur stained red from his blood. He whipped around, his tail twitching, and then he snarled viciously.

"Draco. Draco," Hermione begged frantically, screaming as his jaws clamped down around the hem of her dress, yanking her below him. "Draco, please! It's me! It's me!"

Draco's wolf opened its mouth, threw its head back, and let out a resounding howl. Hermione rolled onto her stomach and accioed her wand from the vanity, then rolled back over and pointed it at his underbelly.

"Stupefy!" she cried, sending him flying backwards to hit the wall.

"Whoa, what the - Bloody Hell, Hermione!"

Hermione felt hands gripping her under the arms and hauling her to her feet. Blaise shoved her behind him, pointing his wand at Draco's wolf as it advanced on them. From behind him, Hermione brandished her wand, as well.

"So he's a wolf, then, yeah?" Blaise said, the two of them slowly backing toward the open door.

"Amongst other things," Hermione said with a tremulous voice.

"Right. Well, together then?"

"Right."

Simultaneously, Hermione and Blaise twirled their wands and screamed, "Stupefy!"

Twin red sparks shot out from the ends of their wands, and Draco crashed against the wall again. He growled and shook his fur out, his gargantuan head swiveling around to snarl at them. He licked his chops with hunger and his eyes glowed with rage.

"That'sthebiggestwerewolfI'veeverseen," Blaise squeaked out as Hermione sent as many defense spells as possible towards Draco, pushing him back further and further.

"Second biggest for me," she said. "Let's get out of here. We need to lock him in."

Blaise cast another stupefy, and then the two of them dashed out the door. He yanked Hermione bodily out of the room by her arm, and she cried out as his fingers pressed into one of her whip wounds. Hermione spun around, her eyes going wide as Draco's wolf pounced towards the doorway. Blaise waved his wand and the door slammed shut just as the wolf's great body smashed into it, rattling the wood in its casing.

"Colloportus!" Hermione cried, along with a slew of other spells she knew that would keep him inside and away from that door.

"He's a werewolf?" Blaise panted, sliding his wand into his back pocket. "But I thought he drank blood?"

"We don't know what exactly he is," Hermione replied. "But now we know more. We finally have a place to start."

She sank to the floor, conscious of Draco's blood soaking her dress, staining her arms, chest, and face, and rested her forehead against the door. This wasn't what she'd expected out of tonight, but she still felt stupid. She'd discovered he was partly a werewolf not two hours before. How could she not have realized that he likely had a specific time when he would be turning? The argument with Crabbe in the common room had happened around 1:00am, too. And the time when Draco had told her not to speak to him again, and then asked her to lock him into his dorm - that had been around 1:00am, too.

He was never going through this alone again. Next time, they would be prepared.

"What do we do now?" Blaise asked, breathless from their escape.

"We wait until morning," Hermione said softly, placing her hands against the quiet door. "And then we take care of him."

". . . Narcissa's going to be rather fond of you, Granger."

---

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