Disclaimer: So I was sitting here, writing this story, when I thought, hey, why the hell am I writing this story? I should be writing the sixth book for my Harry Potter series. And then I remembered: Oh, right. I don't own Harry Potter anymore.

A/N: Hopefully this chapter will be better than the last one. See, my muse Devon left me for my best friend for awhile, but he came back, and after a great time, this story came to me! Yay!

Cambri's magical talent was exceptional, but if she were to pinpoint just one thing she was especially good at, it was memories. She had a photographic memory as it was, but it was deeply enhanced by her magic, to the point that she could twist other's memories at will and transmit memories from person to person if she chose.

But there was a downside to these enhanced memories. It meant that she could never forget anything, ever, even the memories that were never meant to surface but to be buried deep inside your mind so they didn't drive you insane. It also meant that nightmares were never real nightmares but only terrible memories intensified a thousand times so that she wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep.

This was one such nightmare.

"Lucius, stop. Please, stop."

"Be quiet, you stupid girl, or your punishment will be worse."

"Lucius, please. Please. I'll do whatever you want, just . . . keep away, please!" She was begging; the air filled with her frantic pleading.

"I want you to hold still," he told her, his voice silky.

"Please!"

"No. I know you've experienced this before, don't try to pretend you're a virgin." He was smiling down at her, one hand holding a long, thing rope and the other holding her down.

"Stop, I'm begging you!" she pleaded. Anything, anything to get away, to stop him, to stop the memories.

"I'd noticed," he said, his voice and eyes growing cold. She continued to struggle, and he slapped her, hard. "Hold still and it will be less painful," he advised. Cambri stopped fighting. "Good girl." He tied her hands to the bedpost.

"Please," she whispered, terrified.

"Behave," he ordered, and the torment began.

Cambri woke quickly, trembling violently. She always hated that particular memory. Groaning softly, she turned on her side, facing the wall, and wiped away her tears. She hated crying. So unfortunate that it was necessary; she had to get out emotion somehow. She suddenly stiffened, hearing movement.

"Cambri," said a voice softly at her bedside. "Cambri, was that . . . you?"

She rolled over to see Remus looking at her with an expression of horror and, strangely, sympathy. "What are you talking about, Lupin?" she demanded, sitting up and glaring at him.

"That dream," he said hesitantly. "Was it from you?"

"What dream?" she asked roughly. Oh, please. Don't let him be talking about what I think he's talking about. There's no way he could have gotten it . . .

"I'm sorry," he began. "I had dozed off while I was guarding you, and I had a dream with . . . you and with . . . Malfoy." If he had been talking about anything else, Cambri would have thought his hesitation would be funny, or even cute. But not now.

"Yes, Malfoy and myself. So what?" Best to play dumb. Maybe he wouldn't have the guts to ask.

"He was . . . hurting you."

"Yes?"

"Raping you." He looked down. Even in the semi-darkness of her room, she could see his blush.

"Lupin, your twisted sexual fantasies are truly fascinating, but I'm really not in the mood right now," she said dryly.

"It wasn't mine," he said, jerking his head up. Then his voice softened. "It was your memory, wasn't it? You-you've been crying, Cambri."

Now it was Cambri's turn to blush. She looked down, but said nothing.

"Cambri?" His voice was gentle.

She broke. "Yes, it's mine," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She suddenly looked up, her eyes fierce and dark. "Happy now?"

"No, I'm not happy," he said fervently. "Do you think I wanted to see that?"

"Do you think I did?" she demanded. Suddenly, Cambri realized she was too open, too exposed, and she withdrew into herself. There was a long pause. "Are you going to tell anyone?" she asked in a calm voice.

"Of course not," Remus assured her. He realized that, despite her would-be casual voice, she was deeply worried by this. "And, Cambri, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get that memory."

She didn't answer, so after another moment, he walked back and sat down in his chair.

"That's why I hate these ropes so much," she said quietly, and he realized she was talking to him. "They remind me, all day, every day of those punishments."