.

Author's Note: There is some sexual content in this chapter, but I had to edit/remove chunks of it to adhere to Fanfiction's M rated guidelines. If you would like to read it in full, you can find it on AO3 by searching for omnia vincit armor or SyrenGrey in their Search box.

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XXXIV: Judgment

The door burst open with a loud bang. In her shallow sleep, Hermione anticipated the intrusive, cruel morning greeting and jumped to her feet at the sound.

"Please - " she begged, holding her hand out.

The Death Eater, the same one who had come in day after day with his wand outdrawn, stopped in his tracks.

"Please - I beg you - don't -"

It was the first time she had been able to stand up and get more than a word in before she was knocked out. She was desperate. Sleep was not coming anymore, just brief lapses of consciousness. It was never restful. She would wake up every ten minutes, either anxious for the Death Eater to come and take Draco or for Draco's return from his torture.

"I will give you anything, I'll do anything - please don't take him. You'll kill him, he's - he's dying."

The man tilted his head. She could see his lips twisting in a smirk under the thin slit of his silver mask.

"Perhaps I will," the Death Eater responded.

She had no way of knowing who it was she was talking to. Whether it was a young boy or an old man - whether it was someone she had met before, passed in the streets of Diagon Alley, or seen in the Department of Mysteries the previous year.

The commotion had stirred Draco as his heavy head lifted and pressed against the stone wall.

"Please don't, I beg you - take me - please don't take him -"

"Hermione - no -"

The voice jolted her for a minute. He was awake and watching as she took a step toward the Death Eater. The dark-robed man recoiled briefly, a flash of fear in his hazel eyes. Instinctively, knowingly conveying her lack of power, Hermione fell to her knees before him, all sense of pride and strength lost as she pleaded.

"Please don't take him, please take me, please - torture me!"

"Hermione, shut up!"

The Death Eater looked from the pleading, doe-eyed girl to the man struggling against his shackles, his features red with rage. In a movement that Hermione did not seem to expect, he threw his head back and laughed.

"You want me to take you?"

"Instead of him, please, don't touch him -"

"Get up," the Death Eater barked.

Hermione sprung to her feet, a sense of hope bursting in her.

She hadn't expected it to work, but she knew she had to do something. She didn't know how many more days he would last or how much more torture he could take; she just wanted to let him heal. It was impossible to know if they would ever consider the trade - or what kind of cruelties were already awaiting her after Draco had perished or gone insane. It didn't matter. She just wanted him safe.

She felt her knees quivering as she stood there waiting for the Death Eater to make his move. She tried hard to ignore the cries of protest from Draco as he screamed - begged - the Death Eater to take him instead and implored Hermione to run and leave him. The screams rang in her ears, crazed and desperate, but she didn't let them permeate into her conscience.

The Death Eater took a step forward and Hermione waited for the relief of a stunning spell and for her body to be levitated out of the room. Instead, she felt the force of a tight pressure against her chest. Her breath was stolen from her as her whole body was thrust back into the air and she landed hard against the wall. She let out a cough, the force causing her ribs to feel like they had caved in on themselves. She braced in anticipation of her fall, but it didn't come - she remained plastered against the hard surface, held in place by his magic.

The man stalked with slow, deep steps.

She could see the flailing body of Draco as he fought against his binds, screaming at the Death Eater. The irons were red-hot, and steam was rising as his flesh burned. Still, he struggled.

Everything was silent - in slow motion - as the Death Eater moved as though gliding toward her frozen form. His fingers reached out to cup her face, his nails digging into her soft cheeks as he forced her head to the side.

"The Dark Lord doesn't want you, you worthless mudblood."

Hermione's heart sunk into her stomach at the words. She had thought - perhaps…

"You'll get your torture soon, just you wait."

She could feel the man's hot breath against her cheeks. He smelled of musky, sweet cologne, and had apples on his breath. She struggled against the body-bind but was left with heaving breaths and no noticeable change in her movements.

"Though just 'cause the Dark Lord doesn't want to harm your pretty head doesn't mean I can't have a taste."

"No! Let her go, you bloody git - leave her!"

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she felt the invading touch of the Death Eater in her hair, forcing her to remain still. She felt the sharp prod of his wand against her ribcage. The way he looked at her, with such devoted interest, while his actions were nothing but nefarious and full of unspoken promises of cruelty- it reminded her of Fenrir. His fingers around her throat, squeezing the life out of her. Like Bellatrix, distant though that memory was, taking pleasure from her pain. Like Pansy, laughing as her fist met Hermione's jaw. Their cruelty made her want to scream - it robbed her of whatever optimism and hope for humanity she had. These people just wanted to see her pain.

She refused to give it to them.

The dread morphed into something else. She felt like she was falling, like her mind had slipped down a rabbit hole. She landed somewhere foggy, the world with all its sharp edges blurred and muted.

She could smell the apples. Ripe and juicy. She imagined the smooth texture of their ruby skin, the way her teeth would pierce through the thick flesh and the saccharine juices would coat her mouth.

The world grew hazy, the separating lines of each slab of the stone wall faded into a blur of grey.

Delicious, sweet apples. A bushel of them, all ready to be eaten. It was all she let herself think about.

Apples. Breakfast. Hogwarts breakfast. Classes and laughter and her best friends.

No pain. No evil. Just distance.

The word, Crucio, that passed his lips was not heard by her until she felt the flood of fire that blazed through her body. She felt her form seize against the body bind curse, she felt her skeleton rattle inside her, threatening to unravel against the ligament and muscles that felt loose and wound tight all at the same time. Was this what being flayed was like? Like the spray of acid and fire was coating her flesh and oozing into her skin and growing, multiplying in her core. Her skin was raging and angry and burning, and she knew nothing in that moment except sheer agony.

Her mind drifted, nowhere to be found. No distractions came to her, it wasn't even an option as she bit into her own teeth and felt her throat burning with a sharp helpless shriek.

And then - it felt like cool water washed over her.

Her teeth were rattling, her jaw was shaking, and she felt the cold sensation of hard stone against her face. Her shoulders seized as her body fought desperately to suck in air. Everything was so tense, it was impossible to feel like something so simple as air could permeate through her gritted teeth. The shaking was unrelenting as her muscles tried to comprehend the pain and buffer against it. Saliva dripped from her open mouth onto the floor as tears leaked from her face. She could hardly make out the words that were being spoken in the room.

She forced her eyelids to open as she glanced toward the light. The simple sunlight that shone in the open room blinded her as her mind, which had retreated into the depths of her, tried to comprehend once more that the pain was done. The spell had ended.

She blinked, and blinked again, taking in the room around her. She could scarcely lift her head when she discovered another Death Eater had entered the room. They had a different mask and a different stature, short and slender, with the fluid movement of a female form.

The new intruder hovered over the body of the apple-breathed man who was mere feet from Hermione. He was... face down. She couldn't understand what happened as she watched the woman levitate him, leading him out of the classroom with a loud slam of the door.

Her head was pounding and she tasted metal. Draco remained chained against the wall, his face glistening as he looked away from her. She couldn't see his eyes but the dark red burns that peeked under the metal shackles stared her in the face.

In spite of herself, in spite of their circumstances and the pain she had just endured, Hermione felt her body shake and the sound of laughter escape her lips. Draco's head turned toward the sound, a look of disbelief and sheer terror in his face as she continued to gasp for air with each manic laugh against bruised lungs and shredded vocal chords.

She did it.

They had left him.

He was safe for today.

As the breath in her lungs finally returned to normal and the laughter faded from her lips, she pushed against the cold floor and drew herself up. She could feel the cautious stare of Draco as she made her way towards him, her legs wobbling with each uncertain step.

She dropped to her knees, reaching her palm out to his cheek. It was flushed and soaked with warm tears that had barely fallen off his chin. His gaze bore into hers, and she could see the tension in his jaw and between his brows. He was seething.

"Why did you do that?"

His words came out in a whisper but they were laced with a razor-sharp edge.

"It was the right thing to do," she said, wincing as she gently manoeuvred herself to position her hips against his, seating herself in his lap.

"Right thing? Are you mad? What if - what if he -"

The words were choked in his throat. She could see him struggling to get them out.

There was nothing to say in that moment. Words didn't matter in the aftermath of pain and desperation. Everything was ending and all Hermione wanted to do was to press her form into his and hold him. To celebrate her minor victory in peace.

It wasn't working. She couldn't ignore the way his breaths came out in hard jets against her hair, his lungs rising and falling with purpose. She tried to ignore his obvious anger as she squeezed her arms right around his chest and pressed firmly into the muscles of his back. Her fingers grew tingly and numb as they were crushed between his body and the wall. Had he not been shackled, Hermione imagined he would have withdrawn from her arms and fixed her with a cold glare until he could get his lecture in.

"I'm sorry," she sighed.

"You made me watch him torture you."

The words were flat and she watched his throat jump with a swallow. He was being nice to her, she realized. This was him showing restraint.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her gaze darting toward the ground.

"No, you're not." He spat the words at her.

He was right - her words had tasted like a lie as they departed from her lips. Still, she flinched at his sharpened tone.

"So what?"

She drew back to face him, her fiery eyes meeting his icy gaze as they sat in a moment of tense silence.

"How could you be so bloody reckless all the time?"

"I am not reckless - that was intentional -"

"And what if he raped you?" The question burst from his lips in an uncontrolled shout, full of rage and pain. Hermione blinked, disarmed.

"What if he tortured you or - or - killed you? You would have me watch that? Helplessly chained to the wall, watching the love of my life - ki - "

He shook his head, the words lingering - unspoken. Although Draco was shackled helplessly against the wall, Hermione felt herself shrinking under his heavy stare and prominent sneer.

"How would I have known he -"

"That's it then, isn't it? You bloody wouldn't."

She didn't know why she felt her eyes burning again with the familiar feeling of tears. Tears that her body seemed to have an infinite supply of, as every time she thought her eyes had run dry she would find a new way to create a wellspring of sorrow.

"Don't delude yourself into thinking you can help me, Granger; I'm doomed either way so please just let me… let me just have my time with you."

"I can't just let them kill you," she said, her gaze falling to stare helplessly at her hands.

"You can't sacrifice yourself for me."

His words fell on her, dense and heavy. While they were meant as a plea for her to relinquish control, the words were not remotely relieving. She felt as shackled as he was. A rush of warmth spread to her cheeks and her lips tightened into a tense line.

"So what will you have me do then, hm? Sit here and wait? For fuck's sake Draco, I won't - you can't make me -"

"Hermione, I -"

"No! I don't care what you have to say. I don't! You don't know what it's like to wake up with you gone, and wake up with you here but - but trembling and speaking madness. You don't even make sense when you're back. And you hurt, your skin is - like you're stabbing me - I'm sick of waiting for you to die. For you to never come back - I c-can't - I can't do it -"

Her face disappeared into her hands as she sobbed openly, anger and sorrow and grief intermingling into a cocktail of despair that she had tried desperately to bottle up and bury into the depths of her psyche.

She had fostered a skill of forced apathy in the cave, after days of being alone waiting for him to recover from the venom. Now, it was different. Now, truly felt futile. There was no thin blanket of hope to shroud this mess.

"Come here," he beckoned softly, his brows narrowed into a look of concern as his crystal eyes watched her.

Hermione rubbed her palms over her cheeks and hastily wiped her face. She was sick and tired of the sodding tears every - damn - day. She accepted his open, sympathetic invitation as she pressed her forehead against his, her arms slipping around his neck for a one-sided hug.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she managed, her eyes closed - shame and guilt burning at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what he would do - I hoped…"

"I know. I know, love. It's alright. Come here."

Hermione knew as he drew his chin out toward her that he was summoning her for a kiss. Had he the freedom to do so, he would have no doubt caressed her jaw, slipped his fingers into her curls, and drawn her face toward his without need for invitation.

Hermione leaned in, her lips brushing against his in an infinitely tender embrace - as if they would both unravel if pressed too hard. The tenderness, while under any other circumstance, would warm her heart and melt her into his arms. Here, it just reminded her of their shared helplessness - their fragility - as the world crumbled around them and the only anchor Hermione had to her sanity was Draco.

Hermione withdrew, her face hovering over his as she ran her fingertips over his features. She lovingly traced over his brow bone, down the ridge of his sharp nose, rose with his angular chin. He watched with open amusement as she busied herself studying his face before her brows came together in a thoughtful expression.

"In the prophecy, we win." Her words were soft whispers, quiet musings as if stating an observation. She continued her delicate drawing on his flesh while her curious gaze lifted to his.

He tilted his head, staring at her as though waiting to make sense of her sudden revelation.

"Hermione…"

She bristled at his tone - just a bit - before her spine straightened and a reassuring nod stopped him.

"We win, Draco," she said, straight and with sheer certainty like it was Gospel.

"You don't know that," he said. He let his head rest as he withdrew from her touch, his eyes falling shut and everything about him closing off.

"I do - you said it yourself. Their love will conquer all."

She slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled at the base of his skull, urging his face forward. For a moment, she wished she hadn't - she could hardly stand the look of doubt he gave her.

"I don't care what you say. We win."

The gasp that would have filled Draco's startled lungs was stolen from him as Hermione's lips pressed into his. She didn't give him a chance to further question her. Her fingers tightening around the back of his neck to urge his head to the side while her lips parted and tongue sought his.

The passion and sudden purposeful confidence of her words translated with ease into the kiss. Her touch ran over his throat, palm roughly caressing the soft skin before she scraped the pads of her fingers over the scratchy blond stubble - rough and pleasing to her touch.

She could sense him in there - under a shallow layer of composure and restraint. The same tenderness that acknowledged their fragility was getting in the way. Too careful, too scared. Her hand gripped his jaw and lips mashed against his with a punishing intensity as she stole kiss after bruising kiss, coaxing him, urging him out.

He was hardly matching her heat, stifling the flame rather than kindling it.

She released a frustrated groan as she withdrew.

"Kiss me." Her words were a demand.

What was he afraid of?

She pulled away, her eyes searching his. His brows were tight and lips quickly tensed into a line.

Oh God.

He was pitying her.

While he was the one losing hope.

He was resigning himself, accepting his inevitable demise. He didn't want to give her hope - it wasn't about the kiss or the touch or anything, he didn't want to give into this newfound sense of victory. He saw no reason to celebrate.

No. That was unacceptable. She refused it.

All she had was this. He would not take it away from her.

"Kiss me, Draco."

Her tone was sharp and commanding. It seemed to only irritate him as his lips bowed in a faint scowl.

"Draco -"

This was a disconnect she had never experienced with him and she didn't know why he wouldn't just let her have the only shred of hope she'd mustered to find in this misery. The prophecy - it said it. Why couldn't he just let her have it?

She must have looked panicked. She didn't know why, but tears had started to sting at her eyes again. Gods, she desperately needed him on her side.

"Please -"

The word, disjointed from both her phrase and her previous sense of power, was enough to melt the look of pity off his face as he leaned forward.

Though she felt him reaching for her during their embrace, she could still feel the walls around him. It was in the stiffness of his torso and the restraint of his lips against hers. Lips which had once devoured her with hunger now were muted and mild, as if afraid he could crack her like an eggshell if he gave too much. She felt small and cold against the massive fortifications that kept him in a controlled, emotionless bind. Yet, as he insisted on reverting back to his nihilism and casting out all chance for hope, he was casting her out as well, drawing deeper into himself and slipping further away.

She gripped at his collar, the distance drawing her mad.

They would not die here.

Amidst a rather tepid kiss, Hermione trapped his lower lip in her mouth.

He would not die here.

She tightened her jaw and clamped down on her teeth, biting into the tender flesh of his lower lip with sharp force. She heard the angry growl, felt his muscles jerk instinctively as he withdrew. Irritation and shock and - something else - burned in his eyes at her impetuous bite.

There it was.

Passion, not misery. Anger, not apathy.

She stole his lips again. She drove her hips hard against his as her tongue lapped at his lip, lovingly easing whatever pain she'd caused and offering her apology with quiet moans and soothing sucks.

Her fingers drifted over the tense muscles of his chest and ran long lines down his abdomen. He was responsive to her, even with his stubborn dismissal of her truth, his cock swelled under her hips and pelvis. A moan escaped her lips, coated his tongue, and was swallowed by him. Reciprocated, even, with an even more forceful groan as his muscles grew taut. She could feel him trying hard not to struggle against the irons, the need to grab her - throw her - fuck her was overwhelming.

There he was. Her Draco.

He responded well to her demands, his hips gyrating just enough to cause that friction that drove her wild. Another growl escaped his lips as he dragged his mouth away from hers, over her jaw and down to her neck.

"Give it to me, Draco," she moaned openly.

She arched her back for him as, after pressing a long line of rough rousing kisses, his teeth came down on the supple silken skin of her neck. Her sharp cry of pain laced with his groan of pleasure at her sounds.

"I need you." Her frenzied hands drew down his obliques and down between her legs where her palm pressed at the base of his erection. "I need you with me."

Hermione slowly unzipped his trousers and tugged them down to the middle of his thighs. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, rigid and ready for her.

"Draco," she breathed. It was all she could say as red heat filled her face like wildfire. She gripped the base, gaze intentionally averted as they remained on his cock - ears filled with the sound of his long moan as she tugged, her grip dragging upward to the head where Hermione's palm caressed.

"Do you want me?"

The question felt so stupid as it left Hermione's lips, but she couldn't help the thrill it gave her - manifested in a long line of shivers that dragged down her neck and settled between her legs - as Draco's lips curled into a half-smile half-smirk.

As if the question wasn't obvious enough, his words surely reminded her.

"I have you, Granger. You're mine, remember?"

Fuck yes, she was.

The words were disarming enough, but the way his cock twitched in her hands, it was enough to make wetness pool into her knickers. She squeezed her fingers around him and reached down to press a kiss to the shiny head of his cock already dripping with precome for her.

A deep, guttural moan passed his lips before she released him and moved to straddle his hips. She drew her knickers to the side and lowered herself onto him. Her breath caught in her throat as her body adjusted to him. She leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder as she tried to steady her breath. A part of her wanted to hold him there, their physical bodies made one. Being full - filled by him - did nothing to ease the aching tension that only built with each clench as she tightened around him.

She pressed her palm against his forehead and forced his head to pin to the wall.

"Be with me, Draco," she whispered.

Her eyes searched, pleaded, demanded.

Fight with me, she wanted to say. We win.

She let a moan float off her tongue as she rose and fell for the first time.

"Fffuck - " he breathed as his eyes rolled back and squeezed shut. She did it again, her hips rolling as she lifted and lowered herself onto him.

She let out a long, warm breath against his mouth before lips met lips. The force with which he returned the kiss jolted her insides like electricity. It was urgent and hungry, and charged with desire. As he groaned against her mouth with a starvation that Hermione felt in her bones, she realized there was no holding back. The walls, his restraint - all of his fortifications had fallen. And he was letting her claim her prize- injecting it straight into her with each slap of their hips.

God, she needed him. She had no idea how badly she needed him until she had him, pulsing and throbbing inside of her. Her lips sought his, desperate for another point of contact. While her fingers had previously raked through his hair with affection, now they tightened and tugged with a newfound sense of urgency.

"Mine," she growled into his mouth, claiming it for a kiss. "Mine."

She couldn't think of any other words as arousal flooded her mind and rendered it useless.

You're mine, she wanted to say. As much as I'm yours - you are mine. Don't forget it.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Despite the cold empty room, there was a fire between them that consumed like she had never felt. When her eyes finally fluttered open and landed on him, the sight made her heart squeeze in her chest. The look of him - with his head back against the wall, eyes heavily lidded and half-parted, lips open to accommodate the seductive sounds of his bliss and shattered breathing.

Despite his inability to move, despite him having stubbornly insisted that there was no hope - his eyes seared into her, full of a darkness that made Hermione's spine curl with shivers. It wasn't just arousal. Hermione had seen his desire for her before. No, this was something that froze Hermione in her place. It was primal. A sort of danger one sees in a lion whose cub is endangered. Protective, passionate.

It was a fire. A fuel to live. A drive to fight. And it burned with a sort of love that made Hermione's chest tight.

Her brows tightened and lips parted as she released a helpless cry as his hips collided hard against hers. It was intentional. He knew she was melting for him, and he gave her no chance.

"Good girl," he breathed the words, and though they were soft they crushed against her cunt and made her whole body tighten. It was so much. He was so much.

"I'm - I'm going to come -" she whimpered, "come with me, Draco - "

He tilted his chin, an obvious summons for her lips, commanding despite his limitations and greedy as he took bold possession of her. The kiss was burning, lava poured through her veins and pooled where he met her.

"D-Draco," she cried out against his lips.

The sound of their sighs and cries filled the room - it erased the pain and horror that marred the space, and replaced it with unparalleled need.

"Come, Granger - come -"

Her muscles tightened until they couldn't and everything released at once. Her whole body shook, muscles writing against him as the hot sensation of euphoria rushed over her, through her - where it met him. Her walls squeezed around him, her fingers clawed into his bare chest, and her lips parted to moan his name over and over again.

It was so much.

She struggled to breathe. Her whole body shook.

The sexual release gave way to something else. It was all so much. She fought against it, but the pesky emotions had slipped through the cracks - through the barricade of her climax as pleasure had poured over it - so, too, did everything she'd been holding back.

She choked on a sob, physical pleasure and psychological pain intermingling in a marriage she did not consent to. Even as she tried to swallow the sob, the tears she could not stop. They burst - like her will power - poured out of her with each aftershock. Doubt, desperation, fear. Despair. Everything she had dutifully compartmentalized and refused to acknowledge burst in her like a geyser. She buried her face in his chest, her whole body suddenly heaving as she wailed. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she wept openly and freely, unable to do anything else.

"It's alright," he whispered into her hair. "It's okay," he murmured, letting her release it all against the warmth of his embrace. "I'm with you, Hermione. We'll be okay."

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Author's Note:

Hiii!

Like I said, there's some sexy parts that I had to cut for Fanfiction's M rated guidelines.

If you would like to read it in full, you can find it on AO3 by searching for omnia vincit armor or SyrenGrey in their Search box.

Please leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter!

Also, I will be doing an AMA (Ask Me Anything) that you can learn about on the AO3 version of this story.

Unfortunately, Fanfiction completely limits me including links in these chapters so it's really had to share here. I wish I could. Feel free to either check out the AO3 version of this fic for details to shoot me a private message and I will send you the details there.

Either way, I appreciate your continued support and interest in my fic. I love you all!

S