So, a little Dramione ditty I thought up...This chapter has a rape scene, so be warned. The future chapters will explain more about the bonding!
XXXXXX Denotes change in POV.
I was definitely regretting going for an interview so late at night. Seven hadn't sounded entirely unreasonable, but it had dragged on so long that it was eight thirty before I could leave. Being that it hadn't gone very well, I considered it a complete waste of time—annoyingly, a waste of an evening. And, I noticed as I exited the building, it was pitch black in the cool, wet January air. But how could I have known that the MPI was owned by none other than Draco Malfoy?
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The inestimable witch. I knew she was coming, I saw her résumé, and yet, I was not prepared for the sight of that sanctimonious bushy head walking through my door. There was pleasure in those moments, before she knew it was me, when she stuck out her hand and said brightly,
"Hi, it's nice to m—" before our eyes met. When they did, she seemed to lose her voice for a second, and her hand dropped to her side. She quietly finished, "oh…Malfoy." There was a minute or so where we stood in silence and appraised each other. She was taller, though only slightly—probably about 5'8 to my 6'1. She still carried the expression that she knew everything—three years was clearly not enough to rid her of it.
Finally, I said "Granger. Please sit." I decided to start civilly. She sat, after first removing her jacket and folding it over the back of her seat.
She bit her lip, and then, burst out with "I didn't know you ran this place." She couldn't help herself, apparently.
I smirked, and came back with "I do. Now I'm not sure if you're aware, but I'm supposed to ask the questions, as I am the interviewer." I couldn't help myself either.
She rolled her eyes. "Of course."
"Now," I said with a drawl, "why do you want to be a private investigator?"
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After the initial shock of seeing Malfoy, I decided to try to be professional, though I knew he would egg me on.
"Well," I began, "I'm interested in Magical Law Enforcement, but the Ministry requires a year of experience in a related field. I know that sounds like I'm actually not particularly interested, but I really am. I thought this would be a really fascinating place to get my start, and that I could learn a lot working here. I love solving problems, and a PI has to do that a lot, obviously, and, I know you must have hired people interested in Law Enforcement before, and I assure you I really am good at it. At Hogwarts, I…"
"Granger."
I was interrupted with another sneer. "I know what you were like at Hogwarts."
I was nervous and had talked too much, but he didn't have to be so rude.
"Right," I said, somewhat coldly. "Likewise." I paused. Should I do it? Did I dare? "Top of my class, you remember."
I did dare. Maybe it was a mistake, but it felt wonderful. I maintained eye contact, and I thought I saw a steely glint of anger, but if I did, he ridded his face of it almost immediately.
"Yes, I do. Speaking of school, how are Potty and Weasel? As irritating as ever, I assume?"
"Yes." My own voice was getting dangerously close to explosion, and I willed myself to be calm. You can't slap a possible employer, it severely lessens your change of being hired. "Doing quite well, we're all still best friends of course. Harry's getting married in a few months."
"Of course, of course, I saw the article. The Prophet certainly is scraping the bottom of the barrel these days, aren't they?" He smirked, and asked, "And you? Will you be carrying a litter of weasels anytime soon?"
Ugh, he was just awful. He had to know we weren't still together, everyone did. "Hardly. He's quite happy with Luna, we're just very good friends." Remaining polite was becoming more and more difficult—not because I was upset about Ron, we had broken up more than a year ago, but because Malfoy was doing everything in his power to get under my skin and make me break my cool exterior first.
The next hour and a half ticked by, as Malfoy and I had a passive aggressive conversation about work, his firm in particular (his father had owned it, then had given it to Malfoy as a present), school, the war, life since the war, me describing my skills, and even demonstrating a few spells for him. By the time I left his office, I was proud that nothing major had gone wrong, but also thoroughly confident that I wasn't about to get the job.
So, as I walked toward the edge of the anti-apparition boundary (most places had never bothered to remove them after Harry defeated Voldemort), I thought of the tea that I would make when I got home, and of the other interviews I had lined up. I suddenly stopped short, realizing that I had forgotten my jacket on the chair in Malfoy's office. I weighed my options. It was my favorite jacket, but I sincerely did not want to see him again. With a sigh of resignation, I turned around to retrieve it. A split second later, I was hit with a painful force from the man that was standing behind me, who I had failed to notice.
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I sat thinking over the interview, firewhiskey in hand. I would leave for the Manor soon, but first I had to clear my head of the girl that I had never cared to see again, even if she had (I was loathe to admit it) become marginally more attractive by the age of 20. It was then that the jacket over the back of the desk chair in front of me caught my eye.
"Fuck."
I didn't want to see Granger to give it back, but I didn't want to deal with the reminder of Granger by way of jacket, either. I got up and hurried out my door. I couldn't apparate out; I was too paranoid not to keep a layer of protection around my places of business.
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Whatever spell the man hit me with knocked me over. I was very confused, more than frightened, at least at this point. I looked into his face, but I didn't recognize him. I saw that his wand was out and pointed in my direction. I reached for mine, in my pocket, and he laughed, a chilling, cruel laugh.
"Won't do any good, darling. You don't know what I just hit you with, and I don't blame you. It's a spell I invented myself." He seemed so proud of his homemade weapon, and terror began to seep into my body, replacing the confusion. I also realized I felt very weak. I tried to raise myself off the cold, wet ground, but I was too shaken. He crouched next to me. I started screaming, and he only smiled in enjoyment.
"I took your magic from you, honey." I felt sick. Could he be telling the truth? At the look on my face, he continued. "Oh, I didn't take it for myself, I couldn't keep it. I'm not that powerful. It's around us in a little dome, see?" He pointed to the air around us, and sure enough, I could see the shimmer that was produced by my magic, hanging around me. It was bodiless, and could do me absolutely no good. I didn't know who this man was, but I was beginning to understand what he wanted. The powerlessness I felt was overwhelming—for the first time in more than 10 years, I couldn't feel magic in myself at all.
He moved over me, sitting on my hips, immobilizing me completely. I kicked and hit at him, but he only laughed and bound my arms above my head, and my feet together at the ankles. He murmured something about loving fighters, and waves of sickness hit me. This man was going to hurt me, I knew it, and he was going to enjoy it. I wished I were dead already. He used his wand to sever my sweater down the front, and I did my best not to cry out in pain as he (purposefully) left a cut down my stomach. He smiled at my plain white bra, and said,
"You didn't dress up for me? I'm so disappointed; we'll talk about it later." He cut the middle with his wand, again, and leaned over to kiss my mouth before attacking my breasts. He roughly pawed and squeezed at them, stopping to say "a little too small, but I suppose they'll do." He was doing everything in his power to degrade and humiliate me. As he reached toward the buttons on my jeans, I closed my eyes and futilely struggled against my bonds.
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I left the office at a trot, hoping to catch Granger with her jacket. I started up the long walk, and heard what sounded like laughter mixed with whimpering. I saw two figures in the ground ahead, and broke into a run. My mind kicked into hyper-drive when I realized what I was seeing. It was a woman (Granger?) being held down by a man, surrounded by an odd sort of shimmer in the air. I didn't know what was causing the shimmer and I wanted to be careful, so I took out my wand, but didn't cast any spell. I shouted, hoping to get the man to stop what I feared he was doing. As I got closer, I felt sicker; I saw that Granger's shirt was ripped open, and it looked like the man had a hand down the front of her jeans. The man heard my shout, and presumably saw my wand in my hand, as I neared them. I was only a few meters away, but he got off her and ran (still fully clothed, to my relief). Certain that Granger wasn't in any more immediate danger, I made to run after him.
But then, I passed through the shimmer.
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The man had one hand on my left breast and one down my pants, probing the most intimate part of me. It was vile and disgusting. Just then, I heard a shout, and I felt immensely relieved. Someone was near, the man would leave, and I was safe. Some distant part of my brain realized that it was probably Malfoy, and that he would see me in this state, but most of me didn't care; I was too relieved at being found. The man got off me and ran toward the street, but I was still too weak to move, not to mention that I was still tied. I shivered as I watched Malfoy reach what I knew to be my magic, hanging in the air. As soon as he crossed it, I felt it all surge back into my body, and somehow, along with my power returning, the pain of what had happened hit me all over again. I began to sob loudly as Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.
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I had every intention of going after the stranger, but as soon as I crossed through the shimmer, and it disappeared, and I stopped short. Rage and fear crashed over me as I looked down at Granger, helpless and crying. Who did this to her? I looked up for a split second, and I saw the man turn and disappear out of the confines of my apparition barrier. I couldn't worry about that now, not when Granger was in this state. I knelt and threw her jacket over her exposed chest, and quickly cut the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. She had a strange look in her eyes: obvious fear, but with some defiance mixed in, as if she didn't want me to see her looking weak.
"Granger." My voice was shaky, but she looked at me. "Granger, can you stand? Are you alright? He's gone." She nodded, and made to get up. She got about halfway before she fainted, presumably from exhaustion. There was an intense pang of something in my chest then, and I caught her and lifted her in my arms. It was easy, I supposed because of a rush of adrenaline. I strode ahead quickly to the street. Once I reached it, I turned on the spot, picturing in my mind's eye, very clearly, the St. Mungo's waiting chamber.
What did you think? I have the next chapter written already, so if you like it, I'll add it really soon! Review!