DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS STORY. I MAKE NO MONEY. I GET PAID IN SMILES CAUSED BY SEEING PEOPLE STILL READING AFTER ALL THESE YEARS. ALSO THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGER WARNINGS! THIS WHOLE STORY CONTINUES TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR A WIDE RANGE OF TOPICS SUCH AS : ABUSE,SUBSTANCE ABUSE, RAPE/MOLESTATION/NONCONSENT, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, AND GENERALLY "MATURE THEMES".

I'm ready." I answered The Sisters.

A blink later and the blurring image of George laid across the bed changed into an unrecognizable place-an unrecognizable feeling. I had knowledge I should not have and while I was not directly feeling any emotions the fear in the air was palpable. I felt the weight of it seep into my mind, pulling me under it's lull before I could even fully make out my surroundings.

I was on the floor given the perspective but it was softer than any floor had the right to be. I grimaced as I looked into the eyes of a long deceased polar bear, shooting up as I did so. A quick look around and it was clear it was an office of some sort, luxurious to the point of opulence. Aside from crisp white, gleaming silver, and heavy black the only trace of color was found on the mantelpiece. Squinting, I could also make out Slytherin green robes on the lone family portrait that sat next to the much larger house crest. My stomach clenched as I recognized the faces sneering at me from the fireplace.

Why am I here? At the bloody last place I should be! I was denied an answer as the door burst open.

I expected to see Lucius Malfoy. I was preparing for it, as the office clearly belonged to him. But the fact that he was joined by two others threw me completely off guard. It took me only a second to process Draco's presence, but significantly longer than that to recognize Renae.

Lucius was livid, all but foaming at the mouth. I had never seen him so outright furious and seemingly out of control. Once the door swung open, he reached one hand to the back of his son's head and the other to Renae's. He found a firm grip in their hair and used it to yank them into the room. The aggression of the act had them both falling to the floor.

Draco scrambled to his feet, his expression a mask of terror as he watched his father raise his wand to where Renae laid imobile on the floor. Lucius was shouting something at Draco, non-dominant hand waving in anger while his wand remained trained on Renae. I was dying to know what was being said, but there was no time for wishful thinking. I studied Draco's reaction instead.

First, it was plain fear, terror.

Then disbelief.

Followed by thinly veiled anger, rage, indigance. His mouth wide, his pale eyebrows receding into his hairline.

Draco gasped at whatever dramatic threat his father launched. Ice blue eyes widening before slanting in defiance. His mouth finally shut, settling into a hard line.

Finally, Draco was lashing out, yelling back at his father. His face flushed violent red as he stepped into his father's space.

Lucius watched his son's tantrum with quickly waning patience. When Draco began to run out of steam, Lucius' blank expression cracked with a cruel smirk. He said something to Draco, the only indication of his actions being a slick twitch of the wrist.

Then a flash of equally violent red light flooded the enclosed space, draining all color from Draco's face. The fire raging behind his blue eyes dulled with ice water turning to a smoky grey as he watched Renea's body writhe under the weight of his father's expertly landed cruciatus curse.

Then Draco was pleading. Begging on his hands and knees with tears streaming down his face. It was a display of vulnerability that made me see him in a kinder light. It earned Draco a smack to the chin with his father's cane, but it left Lucius distracted enough that the spell's hold over Renae was broken. She laid unconscious, limbs sprawled haphazardly on the atrocious carpet. But she no longer heaved and convulsed against the marble.

Once Draco was crumpled at his feet Lucius realized the curse was broken and immediately the torture resumed. I saw Renae's body raise with the force of the spell before it slammed her back into the hardwood. Foaming at the mouth with convulsions,mouth open in what I was sure to be a banshee-esque wail, I felt second hand pain watching Renae's torment. Draco obviously felt the same way. He crawled over to where her body was shaking, trying to ground her and keep her from cracking her own skull open. He glanced up to his father with desperate tears in his eyes. I didn't need to hear his begging to see the plea.

Lucius flicked his wrist and Renea stilled. Draco was the picture of a broken boy as he curled up on the floor beside her, shaking worse than she had a moment prior. Finally, she was unconscious again. At this rate, that was definitely the preferred state of being.

The light faded to a desensitizing black for just a moment before Lucius' office was returned in my vision. The three of them were still there but their clothes and seating had changed. Renea was sitting in an oversized leather chair. The dazed expression she wore was startling but compared to the twisted mask of pain from the last vision it was much preferred. She seemed to be unharmed, at the very least. Renea sat across the desk from Draco who sat in his father's opulent white leather chair. Lucius stood behind him, fingers digging into his son's shoulders in a bastardized version of a fatherly gesture. His expression was dripping with cruel amusement as he pushed a glass of mud colored liquid into his son's hand. Draco looked up to his father in what could only be described as unrestrained panic. Lucious simply nodded his head in encouragement, grip tightening enough to make Draco wince. Without further delay, Draco lifted the glass to his lips, nose scrunching at the unpleasant stench before he drained the contents in one go.

Draco's skin began to bubble.

I recognized the telltale effects of the polyjuice potion at once. With Lucius' hold still firm on his shoulder, Draco kept any discomfort from showing in his expression. Renea stared directly at the pair, unseeing. When I turned my attention back to the Malfoys, I found only one. Draco's transformation was complete. Lucius' was looking at his newly transfigured son with pure loathing.

The person Draco had become was me.

I didn't have the time to process the fact any further because Draco said something that caused Lucius to snap. He was yanking Draco-Me up by the hair, using the new length to get a good enough grip to pull him from the chair and throw him to the ground. Lucious was screaming again and he did not allow Draco-me the chance to recover. Yanking Draco-me up, he refound his hold on the back of his head, using it to force Draco-me back into the chair.

Lucius smashed Draco-me's face into the desk, bending over to speak his next words directly in his son's ear. By the distorted look of horror painting the face-my face-staring back at me, it had the desired effect. Lucius slammed his son's face on the desk one more time for good measure before he used his hold to right my mirror image so he was sitting properly again. He shoved a quill into Draco-me's hand and placed a stack of blank parchment paper in front of him.

Lucius barked an order at Renae, engaging her for the first time in this vision. Her movements were robotic and clumsy as Renae dutifully removed the package sitting on her lap and placed it on the desk in front of Draco-me. It took a moment longer to recognize the Christmas gift I wrapped and sent out to Renae myself. Under his father's instruction I watched Draco-me as he unfurled the letter I wrote to Renae detailing the debacle with Elliott during the Yule Ball and began to read it out loud. Once he was finished, he placed it beside the blank parchment and picked up the quill. In a perfect forgery of my handwriting and style, Draco-me penned the words his father dictated.

I saw Draco-me write out the greeting to the letter before the light flashed again.

Dearest Elliott, ...

When the light faded back in, I recognized that we had arrived back at Hogwarts. I watched Draco and Renae part ways at the Grand Staircase with a kiss that truly seemed for the public more than a display of genuine affection. Draco was tight-lipped, his expression sour and as constipated as usual. Renae still had that haunting far off look in her eyes. I watched raco make for the Dungeons but duck off course when Renae was no longer watching. I watched him sneak across the grounds to the owlery. After making sure no one else was around, he took out three letters and sent them off with owls borrowed from the school. Each of them addressed to a different person, their names written in my own inelegant script. The one I watched Draco-me write to Elliott was joined by one addressed to Renae and the last to Marcus Flint.

The scene blacked out once the last owl took off. When it reformed, I saw Draco and Renae sitting across each other on what I presumed to be Draco's bed. I watched Renae speak to him at length, as if she was delivering an oral report. When she finished, Draco interrogated her and then Draco sent her away. The robotic shuffle to the door was enough to break my heart.

What have they done to you, Renae?

As soon as the door clicked shut, Draco raced to lock it. His face was panicked when he turned around. He needed to take a few deep breaths before he was able to regain focus. Once he did, he removed a flask from his trunk and hid it in his pocket. He took a few more deep breaths before he schooled his expression and strutted out of his dorm with his head held high. Once he excited the Slytherin Common Room his confidence began to visibly waver. His cocky strut now resembled more of a death march, but his nose remained high in the air.

Malfoy ducked into an empty loo on the first floor and locked himself into a stall. He retrieved the flask from his pocket and stared at it with an expression of regret before he took a hearty swig. His skin began to boil and I watched in abject horror as he transformed into me once again. Watching the process was even worse. Once it was over Draco snapped straight into action and his expression became unreadable. He pulled another old and ill-fitting uniform skirt and a jumper from his bag. He undressed and redressed quickly, taking great lengths not to look at my naked body. As soon as it was over his shoulders I recognized the jumper as the one Mrs. Weasley knit for me two Christmases ago. It was one I hardly wore and I realized instantly that Renae must have been the one to deliver them from where I left it packed in my trunk in the form.

Now under disguise as me, Draco held himself in an entirely different manner as he exited the bathroom. The mannerisms were eerily...familiar, and I realized just how essential Renea's role had been in whatever plan Draco was carrying out now.

Draco-me sauntered down the hallway with a pep in his step, hips swaying as he bounced down the hallway greeting everyone he saw as if they were all my best friends. It was like he was trying to be seen by as many people as possible as he trapezed around the castle. He didn't stop until he came to a disused classroom on the fourth floor. He took another steadying breath as his hand reached for the handle. By the time he pushed the door open, he had exhaled and there was a confident, mischievous, familiar, and clearly practiced grin lighting up Draco-me's face

Despite having heard the rumors flying around the school, I still wasn't prepared to see the faces leering back at me. All of the faces from that night were there-Adrian Pucey, Graham Montague, Lucian Boyle, and Theodore Nott all stood in a circle around their ring leader, Marcus Flint.

Flint's eyes darkened at the sight of the undistinguishable Weasley jumper Draco-me was wearing. Judging by his moving mouth and resulting grin, he made a smartass comment about it. Whatever Draco-Me barked back was enough to shut him up. Lucian Boyle raised his wand and pointed it at the door. Draco-me's next move was to approach them, movements slow and seductive as he found his place in the center of their circle. Draco-me eyed them all, hands running over my body suggestively as he did so, fingers paying extra attention to the hem of the jumper.

Marcus Flint made another comment that warranted a second round of jeering from his housemates. Draco-me clapped back with what I'm sure was another very zingy one liner, to his credit. This time it did not seem to work. The Slytherin boys continued to cackle with the same abandon they stared at my legs. What did cause them to drop into silence even I could hear was Draco-me reaching under the skirt and removing a skimpy green thong I hadn't seen him put on in the loo. My jaw must have hit the floor harder than Lucian Boyle's who also dropped his wand. Once he had their full attention, Draco-me raised my hand, crooked my finger and made a come-hither motion.

They descended upon Draco-me like a starving pack of werewolves during a blood moon. Crowding around, their paws ravaged my body, their teeth sunk into exposed skin. They worked together to remove my skirt, my bra, but they left the jumper on. It was frenzied, sloppy, and repulsive.

Absolutely dehumanizing.

The look of approval on my face as Marcus Flint gripped a handful of my hair and pushed Draco-me to my knees was more enough to churn my stomach. I was thankful I had missed breakfast. For the first time my disgust and terror overwhelmed my curioritosity and I was grateful the Sisters omitted the soundtrack. I was grateful the vision faded with a great white flash in the peripheral before Flint's pants could drop to his ankles.

When the room reappeared it was empty except Draco-Me who was thankfully redressing in the degraded Weasley jumper. Based on the fact Draco-Me's blond hair was lightening and retreating back into the skull the...indiscretion had lasted almost an hour. Draco-me retrieved the flask from the bag and took another long sip. Apparently, there was more damage to be done.

As if on cue, Renae burst through the door, pale skin blushed crimson in her fury. She had a camera in one hand and a stack of photographs in the other. She shouted as she approached Draco-me. Once she was close enough to reach him, she threw the photographs in my face.

Draco-me remained calm as he made a smartass comment-based on Renae's horrified reaction-as he bent down to retrieve a few from the floor. He laughed as he looked at the photographic evidence of me sucking off half the Slytherin Quidditch team. They were shot through the glass of the door and thus terrible quality but there was no doubt about who was on their knees, literally gagging for the abuse they dulled out. Draco-me continued to chuckle to himself as he tucked a few of the pictures into his bag. When Renae addressed him again, Draco-me raised his wand and pointed it at her face. The threat alone had Renae petrified, her entire body quaking as she raised her hands into the air. Was she really that afraid of me?

Clearly, she was.

Draco-me snapped an order that had Renae nodding along, frantically agreeing to anything that might spare her from further harm. Draco-me carried out a drawn-out monologue that left Renae sobbing and nodding along at random intervals like a terrified bobblehead. Draco-me's body language was a perfect imitation of his father's-intimidating yet poised Seeing the mannerisms carried out with my own body to scare my best friend into submission was just another slice to my soul.

Whatever Draco-me was telling Reneae was shocking in nature if the way her eyes and mouth gaped wide open in response to his smirking remarks. Worse than seeing the fear in her eyes was recognizing the belief. Renae honestly believed whatever was being said to her and she believed it was me saying them with a wand trained between her eyes. Draco-me barked another order and Renae was scrambling to her feet. She scurried out of the room without a second glance. Renea was shaking with every step and that was enough to start another of Draco-me's laughing fits.

The lights began to dim and I welcomed the change. I couldn't stand another moment trapped in this room. My eyes remained transfixed on the photographs scattered across the floor, until the vision passed.

We shifted into the hallway. I couldn't see any portraits to be certain but I would guess somewhere on the second floor. I picked out George and Fred strolling down the hall. From the opposite end I saw my worst nightmare approaching-Flint, Pucey, Montague, Boyle, Nott, and Grahmn.

For one blissful second after the group passed the twins without more aggression than Fred bumping into Lucian Boyle's shoulder on purpose-I thought that would be it. Then again I was never that lucky and I wouldn't be seeing this if the encounter was harmless. Instead Flint called out something that had both twins stop dead in their tracks. George must have said something else because the Slytherins all began to double over in laughter.

Fists balled tight, George spun around. His eyes screamed of murderous intent and his malicious grin promised he would enjoy every second of bashing their skulls into the wall. Fred looped an arm around his twin's chest and dragged him down the hall before the situation could escalate. They were more than outnumbered, they were at an emotional disadvantage.

I was hoping that this time when the surrounding faded, I'd be brought back to reality. Not that it was any better, not that I was any less hopeless, but at least then it would be over. No matter what I saw, I would be ready to see it.

Renae sat in the library with Elliott having a heated discussion in heated whispers. Elliot reached into his bag to retrieve a parchment secured with ribbon. Elliott tossed it at Renae and then leaned back in his chair. Renae unfurled the parchment and began to decipher the words written in my handwriting. The further Renae's eyebrows retreated into her hairline, the wider the smug grin stretched across Elliott's face.

Renae pushed away from the table. Elliott said something that ade Renae ball up the letter in one hand while the other slapped him across the face. Elliott tossed his head back in laughter as Renae stormed out fht elibrary, balled up parchment still in hand.

I remained suspended in the all encompassing white for what could have been hours. I only realized the scene had transformed when I realized I could see the air shifting and swirling around me. Vibrating, almost.

Steam.

I squinted and could see the titles lining the walls down to the floor where two bodies could be seen writhing together. There were nothing but ghosts but they were unmistakable in their act.

I recognized the scene instantly before the focus could draw closer to the two-backed beast. I knew instinctively that it would be Draco-me with Elliott just like I saw in my vision last night. Another question answered, at least. A flash of orange caught in my peripheral and I had even more answers. George and Fred had reached their destination with Renae. They stood not five meters away, transfixed on the lovers too occupied defiling my body to notice the new arrivals. I saw tears building in George's eyes as he turned away from the perceived betrayal. The vision ended before they could fall or he could take the first step to run away.

I knew I had finally been returned back to reality without opening my eyes. Seeing all I had just seen, knowing everything I knew now-I didn't think I'd fnd reason to ever open them again. I had all the knowledge I needed on the situation. I knew the reason and motivations of indiviats. I knew why Malgoys plan was so brutal in its simplicity, it's effortless efficiency. I knew Daco as a pawn in his father's game, toeing the line to keep himself and Reanee alive if herer was the slightest chance. I could understand why everyone was tricked. Lucius made sure to cover every aspect of his lie, he took very ruthless precaution to ensure his plan would succeed.

And it had

What I was having difficulty finding was the reason. If my reason to fight was gone, what reason do I have to open my eyes?

Stop it! Romona chastised, voice as dark as the cloud of my thoughts. Your reason to fight remains, the fight itself has not changed. It's only gotten more personal.

What am I supposed to do then?

Tomorrow you prove you are not so easily broken or defined by reputation. Romona saud,

But what do I do right now? I groaned.

Tomorrow, you wear a brave face. Tonight, you cry. Neviah joined the conversation, adding, And drink. Tonight, you cry and drink.

Now we're talking. I snorted my appreciation. The sudden weight pushed onto my chest finally giving me enough reason to open my eyes. A sealed bottle of Odgen's Firewhiskey sloshed as it fell next to me on the bed as I sat up. I picked up the bottle to examine the amber contents of the shimmer glass.

Alcohol won't solve your problems. It won't give you the answers you seek and it won't take your pain away. As a depressant, it does what it's name suggests-it depresses your system. Romona said, carrying on in a more stern tone, Everytime you drink, it is a gamble. You don't know how it will affect you. It can make the demons you're facing sing louder, or it can silence them long enough for you to sleep. If that's what you want, then it's your risk to take.

I found myself nodding my head in the affirmative.

Do you promise to wake up? Neviah asked.

"Yes." I vowed out loud, making the promise to myself as well.

Then drink. Sleep. Destiny should allow you this luxury. Romona encouraged.

I found myself staring down the neck of the bottle without recollection of removing the seal or the top. I placed my lips around the mouth as the words of Neviah and Romona tossed around in my mind. They added a soundtrack to the horror of their gifted visions as I debated taking the first sip. I knew once the first drop of whiskey burned away the taste in my mouth, I wouldn't stop until the bottle was empty. I wouldn't stop until the images were burned from my mind. I knew that was as true as letting the first tear fall from my eyes would create a flood.

But Romona was right. After all the Hell Destiny felt fit to send my way-she owed me one night to process what she set for me. She owed me however long it took to lick my wounds in peace.

So I took the first sip as my vision blurred, then cleared with a blink. I felt the burn on my tongue as the whiskey trickled down, searing as the tears tracking down my cheeks. I spent the rest of the first day of the New Year in a cycle of sobbing and sipping. I continued on until the bottle was empty and my body was spent enough to remain sleeping even once the bottle slipped through my fingers. Dead to the world as it shattered to pieces on the floor.

What's one more mess to be cleaned tomorrow?

XXX

'ELLO LOVELY READERS!

I KNOW THIS CHAPTER IS SHORTER THAN THEY'VE BEEN IN A WHILE. THERE'S A REASON FOR THIS. I WANTED IT OUT FOR ALL OF YOU AND IT WAS THE BEST PLACE TO STOP. HOPEFULLY THIS CLEARS SOME QUESTIONS UP FOR YOU AS WELL AS GIVES YOU MANY MORE! JUST TO KEEP THINGS INTERESTING. ANY WAY. IF YOU'VE READ THIS PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW THE BIGGEST QUESTION YOU STILL HAVE! I WANT TO WRAP THIS STORY UP BEFORE THE NEXT DECADE OF WRITING THIS COMES AROUND AND I WANT YOU TO GET THE CLOSURE YOU DESERVE.

EX'S AND OH'S

AUDREY V. SULLIVAN