Chapter 55

Hermione jumped off the bed in triumph to see his wrists and ankles bound in front of him, much like the first time they had met at her house.

Anger completely gone, Draco stared up at her with a disbelieving grin.

"You kinky bitch."

Perhaps, but she was absolutely furious. She waved her wand in a series of circles and the ropes attached themselves to the bed posts, spreading his limbs. Hermione dropped her pajama bottoms and knickers to the floor and tore her shirt off, over her head, and tossed it to the side. Draco watched her with a smirk, and his erection rose to life as she crawled on top of him.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and rubbed herself over his length. He hissed and thrust forward, but she didn't let him inside her, merely sliding against him. It wasn't enough for her to come, but it eased the throbbing ache.

Hermione couldn't explain it, but she was so worked up and so fucking pissed off that she wanted to bite him. So she leaned down and bit his neck. He moaned a laugh and turned his head to the side so she had more access. She bit him again harshly and sucked the skin at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, rutting against him. He grunted while she worried his skin with her teeth.

She raised her head. Draco's expression was pained but the sounds he made told her it was pleasure. Grabbing his arms, she rubbed her breasts against his chest. She braced herself against him and lowered her body, changing the angle so her clitoris would have more direct contact along his length.

Draco writhed and thrust up towards her, but she just smiled wickedly down at him. The tosser could be denied for a change. Hermione crawled up his body and sat on his upper chest, legs bent on either side of his head. The bite marks were an angry red on his pale skin.

"Make me come," she ordered. She'd forgive him for whatever had happened earlier if he ate her out at her command.

Maybe.

His lips lifted mockingly. "Apologize, and I might."

She gasped. Still?

Hermione was so angry with him right now. She still couldn't believe what Draco had done to her. He held her down while he rammed into her; she couldn't even see him. He spanked her, and then he pulled out, came on her back and sodding walked away.

And then he wouldn't even let her get herself off!

All because he didn't agree with her decision.

Draco used sex to punish her. It may be a kind of role play but that didn't change the circumstances.

And he was still carrying on with it.

Hermione wanted to hit him, and so she did. She backed up to sit on his abdomen and smacked his chest with her palm.

"You're such prick!" she cried out. "I can't believe you did that to me! What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled, hitting him again.

Draco clenched his fists and bit his lip at the impact, grey eyes flashing up at her. She watched that smirk slowly appear again. "Apologize."

"Fuck no!" she yelled, smacking his chest again. His limbs tensed in their bindings and released. "I have nothing to apologize for!"

Breathing heavily, Hermione sat, straddling his torso. He held onto his bottom lip with his teeth, watching her with a smug expression.

After a few tense, silent seconds he replied calmly, "I won't allow you to go."

Draco wasn't angry like when he had spanked her. This was more calculated. But he brought her the plans already. What the fuck was he doing?

Who the hell did he think he was?

"You can't tell me what to do!" she snarled at him.

He raised his eyebrows imperiously. "I'll burn the parchments; you won't have time to get the information you need from someone else. Fucking stay home."

Fearful, she sucked in a breath. Would he really do that? Is that why he brought the plans? To trick her into thinking she had what she needed so she wouldn't have time to plan properly? Would he really do something like that?

At least he was tied up. She could take the plans and Apparate out of here right now.

So why tell her, if that was his intent?

What was wrong with him?

"Stop it!" She smacked him again and he released his bottom lip and pushed his chin up into the air as a low agonized groan escaped.

Her eyes widened. Was he… Was he was goading her into hitting him?

Draco's smile was sinister when he lifted his head to look at her. "I'll burn them. You can't go."

His muscles tensed in anticipation and he watched her, grey eyes smoldering.

"What the hell are you doing, Draco?" she whispered. He held her gaze, hungry and lustful.

"Do it," he rumbled. His nostrils flared, and his breath came in small pants.

Hermione was shocked. She didn't move.

"I won't make you come," he threatened.

"I'll do it myself," she replied, slightly horrified at what was going on. "You can't stop me."

Truth be told, she didn't even want to anymore. But she didn't want to release him from his ropes either. She had no idea what was going through Draco's head.

He glared at her and pulled on the bindings, muscles flexing while he strained against his ties. "I'm a Death Eater. I deserve it."

Hermione was taken aback. "You're not and you don't," she insisted softly.

Draco stared at her silently for a few moments, contemplating her. Slowly, his lips curled into a cruel smile. "Second year, I wanted the monster in the Chamber of Secrets to kill you. The only tragedy back then was that no one actually died."

"What the hell are y–"

"Fourth year," he cut her off with a sneer, "I told Rita Skeeter all those rumors about you and Potter." He smiled meanly at her.

"I know all this! But you've cha–"

"The best memories I have of Hogwarts were from fifth year." Draco tugged on his ropes and then relaxed his limbs again. "Docking points from you for being a–"

"Draco, stop–"

"Mudblood."

Hermione exhaled in frustration and balled her hands into fists. Why was he doing this?

She shook in anger. "Draco. Stop it."

Draco raised his eyebrows again and smirked. "Filthy."

"No," she ground out.

"Dirty." His grey eyes bored into her, taunting.

"Stop," she gasped.

"Disgusting." He grinned maliciously, baring his teeth.

"You don't belie–" she protested but he cut her off again.

"Mudblood."

Hermione grabbed her hair, fisting it on either side of her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't look at him. Draco thought he needed to be punished for the things he did. As if he didn't suffer enough already. And worse, he was getting off on it.

She could feel how excited he was. Sitting on his stomach, his prick was sticking right into her backside. He wanted her to hit him. The way he was looking at her, how he was breathing, the way his face was flushed and his muscles flexed under his skin. She'd never seen him so aroused.

But Hermione wouldn't hit him. She couldn't; she didn't want to, so Draco was egging her on.

She forgave him, but he didn't forgive himself. The thought made her ill.

Softly taunting, he asked, "You know what my one regret is from school, Mudblood?"

Hermione gazed down at him in dread and unfisted her hair, knowing she wouldn't want to hear the next words to come out of his mouth.

He smiled evilly at her. "That the Weasel didn't choke to death."

Before she knew what she was doing she smacked him. Hard. Draco's face flew to the side and his pelvis jerked upwards, bouncing her up. He strained against his bindings, limbs quaking and he released another long, low agonized groan of pleasure. Slowly, he turned back to face her, eyes bright and triumphant, his cheek emblazoned with red from her handprint.

"Stop it," she pleaded, her tone rising with her anxiety. "I don't want to hurt you. None of what you're saying is true."

"What's not true?" He was cold, emotionless. "I started this war. It's because of me Dumbledore's a splat on the ground and your friends are dead and your parents–"

"Stop!" she screamed at him, not wanting to hear the rest of it.

Her hand was balled into a fist two inches above his sternum. Hermione nearly hit him again. His chest heaved and his arms flexed in their restraints. Draco eyed her fist in anticipation, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

He strained his legs against his bonds and lifted his pelvis towards her. "Do it," he commanded her. "Please." His voice was low, trembling, and he switched to begging. "Hermione. Hurt me." His plea came out as an agonized groan.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered to him.

"I want you to." Draco bit his bottom lip again and shuddered. The mere thought of her hitting him was arousing him. She didn't know how to handle his behavior. "Please," he begged her. "Do it."

"I won't," Hermione said, her throat was so tight and tears formed in her eyes.

She wanted him to stop this game. But it wasn't a game. It wasn't role play, it wasn't kink or whatever else she thought they had been doing tonight, this was real.

"Hurt me," he said loudly, anger beginning to crease his face. "I need it." Draco's eyes flashed dark and sinister again and her blood run cold at the change. "I let women get raped!"

Hermione stared down at him in horror, not knowing how to deal with him in this state, when his eyes were dark. He was unpredictable. She didn't know what he was going to do or say and felt like she didn't know him anymore.

"Do it," Draco growled louder. He was dangerous, despite being tied up, and Hermione truly was afraid. He tugged at his bonds, contorting his body, trying to get himself free and glaring at her furiously. She wondered if he would be able to get loose. He was a hell of a lot stronger than she was. "I've killed Mudbloods while they cried on their knees, did you know that Hermione?"

"No!" she shook her head while tears spilled down her face. "They made you do–"

"I've killed children while they pleaded for their mothers!"

Draco tried to bend his legs and pulled on his ropes more. His wrists reddened and he hissed in pleasure as his skin scraped.

Hermione choked back a sob, not wanting to hear what he had actually done. "But you'd be killed if you–" she protested weakly.

"Hurt me!" Draco snarled louder. His muscles rippled as he struggled more violently. Pulling and twisting his arms and legs, he writhed underneath her. The skin of his wrists opened up as it rubbed viciously against his bonds.

"I'm a fucking monster, Hermione!" he yelled at her, his dark eyes wild and frantic.

She shook her head, vigorously denying it. "You're not!" Hermione wondered if she should stun him. She was terrified of him now. Terrified for him. She didn't understand what was happening.

"Do it!" he screamed, leaning up towards her as far as his bonds would allow.

She flinched and reached for her wand but he thrust his pelvis up. Pitching forward, she landed on top of him, her hands on either side of his face. His darkened eyes were angry and unhinged and she couldn't bear seeing him this way.

Draco yelled right in her face. "Dammit, Hermione! Just fucking do it!"

She sucked in a breath and lay her head down on his chest so she couldn't see him. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, starting to cry in earnest. She didn't know what to do.

"Stop it, please! Draco, I love you. Please, stop it!" She begged and pleaded, hoping she could get through to him. She didn't know how to make him stop, and whimpered against his chest.

"HURT ME!" His pained scream echoed throughout her house and she squeezed her eyes tight.

Draco thrust up and she clung fast to his body as he struggled with his ropes, holding tight while tears streamed down her face and onto his chest. He grunted and growled like an animal, frustrated and furious, fighting against the bonds holding him. Hermione sobbed onto his chest, trying to hold on while he violently contorted his body, bouncing her up on top of him.

Suddenly he stopped.

Draco heaved deep, angry breaths, pushing her body up with each intake. Hermione didn't say anything, just clung to him and cried silently. A few quiet minutes passed and she listened to his heartbeat slow from its thunderous pace. He released a soft whimper, and then a shuddering sigh of defeat. Warily, she raised her head and saw that he had lain his head back and closed his eyes. Hermione studied him for any sign that he would return to the insanity of a few minutes ago. There was none. He didn't move and continued breathing steadily with his eyes closed.

"I'm going downstairs to get something to drink," she told him, lower lip trembling. "I need some time to calm down." She sucked in a shuddering breath. "And so do you."

Hermione left him tied up, scared of what would happen if she released him, and tightened the ropes for good measure. He didn't react. She didn't know if he would hurt her or if he would hurt himself.

She dressed in her pajamas and went downstairs to get something to drink. Leaning against the kitchen counter, she sipped from a glass of water, and then decided she wanted something stronger. Scanning her parents' liquor cabinet, she chose a bottle of port, unscrewed the cap and took a swig. She grimaced, recapped it and put it back.

Hermione slid down against the wall to sit on the floor, put her head in her hands and cried again. He hated himself. She had no idea. After everything that Draco had gone through, that he did for his family, for his friends, and now towards defeating Voldemort no matter what it cost him, he was full of self-loathing. He hadn't forgiven himself for what he had done in the past, or what he was doing now in order to stay alive as a spy.

Children.

Draco had murdered children.

She wiped her eyes, they were still blurry with her tears.

Hermione knew he murdered prisoners from the night he had gotten drunk, but his confession was vague, and he had been so upset that she hadn't pressed him. She hadn't dealt with his drunken confession or really considered the ramifications of it, or whether or not he'd be forced to kill again. Draco needed someone to talk to back then and she left, not knowing how to handle his grief. Not knowing if she should.

And now it had blown up in her face.

The murder, the rape, the torture, everything he was forced to do or forced to witness was eating away at him.

How could he hold onto his humanity? How could he not lose sight of who he was? If she were in his position, how would she? Would she handle it any better?

If it were up to him, Draco wouldn't be a Death Eater. He and his family would be far away. The only reason Draco continued was to get his parents out. He wouldn't do any of this if he had a choice. That's what differentiated between him and them. He wasn't a Death Eater, and never had been. It was a role that he played. If he refused to kill prisoners, they'd be killed anyway. It's not as if defiance would gain anything. For him or for them. He'd only be tortured, killed or both for refusing an order.

Didn't Draco see that? He must.

How did this whole evening even start? At first, she was angry with the way he treated her, but everything had rapidly spiraled out of control. She still didn't understand what had happened or why. Something triggered it.

Climbing upstairs, Hermione dried her face with the collar of her T-shirt, carrying a glass of water for him. She didn't know what she'd be confronting when she returned and walked down the hallway apprehensively. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she entered the guest room.

Thankfully, Draco just looked worn out. He opened his eyes and she exhaled in relief. They weren't dark, but the intense grey she had grown to love. His exhausted gaze followed her as she walked around the bed. She sat down on the mattress and stared at him in silence for a few moments.

"If I release you, will you hurt me?"

He furrowed his brow, clearly disturbed. "I would never."

"But you just–"

"You wanted me to spank you," he rasped, sounding raw from screaming earlier.

She did. If it would have lasted any longer she might have climaxed. But that all paled in comparison to what had happened afterwards. Draco said he would never hurt her. But did he even know? The danger in his eyes was extremely unsettling and he scared her.

Hermione rubbed her forehead.

"I meant what you did afterwards." She inhaled slowly. "If I release you, will you hurt me? Will you hurt yourself?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head, still agitated. "I don't – that's not the point."

"What do you mean?" She was so confused.

Draco studied her, grey eyes glittering in the dark. "It has to be you. I want you to hurt me. You're the one I've caused pain to. You and other Muggle-borns. It's poetic justice, isn't it?"

Hermione released one of the ropes binding his arms and he pushed himself to a slightly inclined position on the bed. She gave him the glass of water and he gulped it down gratefully.

"But I don't want to. Draco, you're already hurting enough," she explained, still shaking from her terror and helplessness of not just ten minutes ago. "You're already being punished, far more than anyone would deserve. And you don't deserve it."

His haunted eyes met hers. "I do."

She gently brushed his hair away from his eyes. Draco sounded so sad and resigned to his fate. In order to spy for the Order, he was forced to do terrible things to protect his family and friends, and then he had to be punished. He simply accepted that sequence of events as fact.

Had he resigned himself to Azkaban?

Hermione's stomach churned with guilt.

Due to Kingsley's waffling, she was fairly certain he was stringing Draco along on purpose, and would never give him the Unbreakable Vow. But she didn't know what Kingsley's end game was. When the war finished, would he grant Draco the pardon? As Draco's handler, shouldn't Kingsley tell her if that was his plan? And if it wasn't, what could Hermione do to ensure he got it?

So far, her research into the legalities of pardons hadn't helped at all, but her resolve to help Draco strengthened. Maybe she wasn't looking in the right place.

"No," Hermione shook her head and grabbed his hand. "You don't deserve any of this. If I thought you deserved to be punished, I wouldn't be with you." She exhaled slowly, her lungs rattled from sobbing earlier. "You scared me, Draco."

He laughed mirthlessly and glanced down at his chest, wet with her tears. "I scared myself."

Hermione couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice, and thought she might cry again. "You said horrible things."

"I know. And I'm sorry," he said softly, genuinely apologetic. "I was out of control, I'm not sure what happened."

"Don't do that to me again," she said firmly, like an order, and his eyes flicked up to hers. "Don't do that to yourself either. You can't…" she sounded more unsteady now. "I didn't know what to do. I was terrified."

"I went too far." Draco's eyes flashed at her from beneath his fringe. There was something dark in him that hadn't been there before, something deviant. "I still want you to hurt me." He wet his lower lip with his tongue and his voice dropped an octave. "I liked it."

Hermione's stomach twisted at the heat in his words. She enjoyed getting spanked. She couldn't deny the appeal and understood why he wanted to be smacked by her as well. It was a way of releasing the undercurrent of fear, tension and barely contained panic brought on by the war through role play.

But the difference was that she didn't think she deserved to be punished for disobeying him. Draco genuinely believed he should be hurt. It added an extra layer of unpredictability, pain and danger to what could otherwise be a consensual sexual act.

Hermione rested her hand on his chest. "You can't say those things to me. Ever again." She ground out harshly so he would understand. "Ever."

"I know," Draco replied slowly, and swallowed. "I'm sorry. I won't."

"I don't…" she inhaled a shaky breath and slid her hand down to his abdomen. "I don't know how to handle you like that. I don't know what happened to you just now."

Hermione waved her wand, releasing him from the ropes and then healed his wrists and ankles. He exhaled in relief and rubbed his wrists while she crawled into bed next to him. His body shook as he stretched his limbs and then he rolled over to face her and closed his eyes, utterly spent.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, and he opened his eyes. The grey she loved, but small flecks glimmering in the starlight from the window. She tucked his long fringe behind his ear, and then traced her finger along the line of his jaw.

"Maybe I can help?" She slid her fingers around his neck and rubbed his jaw and chin with her thumb. "You know I love you. You don't have to hide things from me."

Draco studied her expression. "Maybe because I Occlude all the time. The stress from it builds up." Hermione nodded in encouragement. That much she understood, and he continued. "I can't say what I believe. I think I feel things more strongly when I'm around you because I don't have to keep it in anymore. Maybe that's why I…" he squeezed his eyes shut, and a single tear fell down the side of his face, wetting the pillow. "I'm sorry, it's not an excuse for what I did. It's just… I'm always wearing a mask, and I'm terrified someone will find out. I… I almost got caught the other night."

Her eyes widened in terror. "What? How?"

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. "My drink was spiked at a party."

Hermione knew Voldemort was paranoid about spies, was he actively searching for them? Did he suspect there was a spy in his midst? How much danger was Draco in right now?

"Do you know who it was?"

"One of my…" he paused and his throat visibly tightened. "Friends. I don't know which one."

Her heart broke for him. He couldn't even trust his friends.

"Does anyone suspect you?"

Draco shook his head silently. "Sometimes… sometimes I want to be found out. You don't know what I've done. I deserve–"

"Stop it," she whispered, and lightly caressed his bottom lip. "You are a good person and you are doing the best you can. You don't deserve whatever it is you're thinking."

Hermione wiped the tears from the bridge of his nose.

"You don't understand." He inhaled deeply, and sounded disappointed.

Draco was so troubled. He needed to get everything out, and she had to hear it. They couldn't keep sweeping his crimes under the rug because his role as a Death Eater was eating away at him. She didn't know how to help him but keeping everything bottled up inside was disastrous.

"Do you…" she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer to her question but it was time. "Do you want to talk about what you've done?"

Draco's eyes flicked up to hers, testing the waters, seeing if she was serious. She reached down and clasped his hand.

"Tell me." She gave his hand a light squeeze. "Please?"

He stared at her for a few moments in silence, considering her, and then he spoke.

"I've tortured prisoners. People we went to school with, and others. They could be your friends, I don't know." He sighed. "They probably are. I've tortured your friends."

It was exactly what she was afraid of. This is what Death Eaters did. He was a Death Eater. She couldn't continue to compartmentalize the roles he had to play, as if he were a different person. He had tortured Hannah, Oliver, Eloise, Dedalus and John. And according to his broken confession the night he was drunk, he killed them too.

Her heart ached for her friends, and for him.

Draco peered at her, searching for disapproval, horror or disappointment perhaps, and continued when he only saw worry. "I've overseen prisoners getting raped. I just…" He sucked in a breath. "I just let it happen."

He swallowed, studying her expression, waiting for judgement. Hermione remained quiet, and stroked his knuckles with her thumb. She felt sick at the thought of her friends suffering so much in captivity before death, but kept the look of concern on her face.

"I saw Professor Burbage get eaten by Nagini and I smiled."

Draco seemed ill at the memory and closed his eyes again. She reached out to rub his neck and shoulder, silently waiting for him to continue.

"I Imperius people, I've held them under my control for months. I take away their free will. I threaten people, I threaten their loved ones. I bribe. I blackmail. I've…" He choked, as if suddenly coming to his own realization, and looked at her desperately. "I've turned into my father, Hermione. Another puppet of the Dark Lord."

"You're not." Hermione said adamantly, willing herself not to cry. "That's not true, Draco."

But he needed to get everything off his chest, to confess his sins, she should stay silent. She ran her fingers through his hair when a horrifying thought occurred to her. He was using Unforgivable Curses, and apparently doing so very effectively. What if they were impacting his behavior?

Tonks had said using the Imperius Curse over long periods of time made the caster want to manipulate and control other people.

Control.

She had told Draco that he couldn't control her and he snapped.

Hermione clearly remembered the shift in his eyes as soon as she said it. That would explain why she hadn't found out anything about his eye color change. She didn't have any information on the effects of Unforgivable Curses on casters. Suddenly his behavior and the things he said made sense. Using the Imperius Curse was adversely affecting him.

Draco continued taunting her after his shower but there wasn't the same sense of danger as before. The way he treated her was more akin to sexual role play, and he already knew that she was enjoying it on some level even if it made her furious.

But then she smacked him, and everything went downhill. What had happened then? It must be connected.

She'd have to ask Tonks. Tonks would know.

"I'm…" Draco spoke again, pulling her out of her thoughts. He took a deep breath and gazed at her apprehensively. What could be worse than what he had already told her? "I'm seducing an intern at the Ministry to get financial information. Since November."

Oh.

That was longer than they had been together. But he was hoping Hermione wouldn't be angry, jealous or judgmental. His anxiety grew the longer she stayed silent. He was laying himself bare to her, and he needed her to accept and forgive him.

She couldn't help it. She felt sick at the thought of Draco being with another woman.

Hermione gnawed on her lip, considering her next words while he watched her nervously. "It hurts me to think of you with someone else. But it's the same as everything you do for You-Know-Who. It's not your choice."

His tense form deflated somewhat in relief, but he continued, half-heartedly trying to convince her to be angry with him. "I'm betraying you. This whole time. The whole time we were together."

Hermione trailed her fingers down his neck, his shoulder, along the muscles of his arm and then down to his hand.

Hermione shook her head. "You're not betraying me."

But she was betraying him. Her guilt twisted her stomach and more hot tears pooled in her eyes. "I'm just sorry for what you have to do."

Draco's expression softened and his body relaxed in that she understood his predicament. "The worst part Hermione… is that I'm good at all of it. I'm expected to get results and because I succeed," Draco paused. "And then they take more from me."

He inhaled a shuddering breath and she tenderly ran a hand through his hair. He opened his mouth to speak again and then closed it. Patiently, she waited for him to speak.

Seemingly unable to meet her eyes, he turned over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Her hand fell to his chest and she felt his heart beating, strong and steady.

"That night." Draco gritted his teeth and he started to tremble. Her fingers twitched on his chest. "That night I came here." He was referring to the night she found him drunk in her parents' living room. "We killed all the prisoners. Entire families. Parents, children, there was a grandmother…" Hermione watched his Adam's apple move as he fought back a sob, and her heart broke for him. "I knew I'd fail, using the Killing Curse. And my mother was there. They'd torture her if I failed. Maybe kill her, I don't know. I don't know." His chest heaved as he relieved the memory. "So I cut their throats. Quick and painless. They'd be killed anyway. Did it matter if I did it or if Greg did? Or Vince?" He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't… I can't come back from that, Hermione. I'm evil."

"You're not." She curled up against his side and held him tight, reaching across him protectively and wrapping her leg around his. His arm, usually holding her like a vise against him, lay limp. "You're not evil. You're not truly a Death Eater and you're not your father. You're making your own path."

"It's too late for me," he sobbed, choking on his words. "Dumbledore said I wasn't a killer." His voice cracked. "He was wrong."

Hermione studied him, lying there with his eyes closed, looking as though he would break apart and crumble to pieces. She nuzzled into his shoulder and squeezed him tighter, hoping she could hold him together. She felt terrible, and didn't know how to help.

"What else could you have done, Draco? What other choice was there?"

He looked like he was going to say something, paused, and then replied quietly. "Die?"

"And then you'd be dead with them. Your life..." She couldn't help it. Hermione released a harsh sob imagining his body lifeless, his grey eyes dull. Draco turned to face her, perhaps having forgotten how his morbid thoughts would affect her. More tears trailed down his cheek. "Your life would be gone for no reason at all. What purpose would that serve?"

He didn't answer.

"Draco?" Hermione curled her fingers gently around his, and slowly tightened them. She didn't know how to help him. All she knew was that she loved him, and that he was always choosing the lesser of two evils. What else could he do? What else could anyone do?

A tear ran down her cheek. She couldn't get the image of him dead, unmoving, lifeless, out of her head now.

"Would I love you if you were evil?"

He stared at her, eyes soft and full of pain.

"No."

Her throat tightened. She tried to swallow but couldn't. Finally, she was able to speak.

"Can you hold onto that?"

He didn't answer, but slowly closed his eyes.

"Draco?"

Hermione watched him breathe, his chest gradually settling into a rhythm as he fell asleep. Even though he had eventually calmed down after he screamed at her, she was utterly terrified for him. And for herself.

She watched him sleep, tasting the salt in her tears as they trickled down her face.

What was going on?

Draco was deteriorating. And she was complicit.

Chapter end notes:

Readers: Did you seriously include this whole Unforgivable Curse plotline as an excuse to write kinky smut?

Mistress Lynn: I – What? Of course not. That's… (clears throat) No! Why would you even think that?

Readers: (raise an eyebrow)

Mistress Lynn: The curses are also about the effects of war. And I am exploring themes in this story. I have metaphors. There are philosophical discussions and… stuff. Do I seem like the kind of person that would insert a plot device for the sole purpose of writing fucked up porn?

Readers: (looking pointedly at Blackmailed, They All Taste the Same, Draco's Body, and A Dish Best Served Cold)

Mistress Lynn: Okay, you may have a point.

Next up: Draco gets caught.