A/N: thank you all for your reviews, the ones lately have been really lovely, so thank you once more. sorry it took so long, 3 serious english classes and two language courses have kind of dwindled my time down to the weekends, if that.

i'm sticking a disclaimer on this chapter because it is deeply disturbing. i don't have on on every chapter with the jk and scholasitc bs because, well, if you're on this site, you know all that already, i would hope. but this chapter is.. well, let's just say it took all my strength to write it and i REALLY hate draco now. and i mean REALLY HATE HIM. although, he's been slowly redeeming himself, and i do understand his motives, however sick and twisted they are.

once again, this chapter is DEEPLY DISTRUBING. it contains a rape scene, at least i consider it a rape scene. i know those that would claim that it could never be rape if you're already involved with the person as seriously as ron and draco are, but i say that's bullshit. ron very clearly states that he does not want it, begs for it to stop, and is in agony the entire time. it is rape. so be forewarned.

-- chapter 1 -- chapter 5.2 -- chapter 4.1 -- chapter 3.1 -- chapter 6.1 -- chapter 5.1 -- chapter 10 -- chapter 2 -- chapter 4.2 -- chapter 3.2 -- chapter 4.3 -- chapter 7 -- chapter 9.1 -- chapter 6.2 -- chapter 9.3 -- chapter 8.2 -- chapter 9.2 -- chapter 8.1 -- chapter 8.3 --

- April 21 - 1997 - Sixth Year -

I was curled up in my chair, nursing a cup of tea and hating him so badly my hand was shaking. He had started up that bloody song again and it kept playing over and over in my mind. I don't know why I expected better of him, but the way he touched me sometimes… No, I was not going to think that way because it obviously was not true. I sighed and leaned my head against the side of the chair. It was later than I had thought and I considered leaving, but I had not finished my tea and it was so comfortable by the fire. When I looked up, he was there, sitting in his chair, starring at me. I tried to play as though his appearance hadn't startled me as I sat up a bit, "How long have you been here?" My voice was hoarse and raspy for some reason.

"A while."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to watch you."

"Why are you here? We aren't meeting tonight."

"I could ask you the same question."

I glared at him and sang the first few lines of the bloody song. A smirk emerged on his lips. I scowled at him, "How could you? You know that song destroys my confidence."

"That would be the point."

"Yeah, I know that's why it was created, but I just thought… After what's happened…"

He grinned like Crookshanks after he'd caught a bird, "You thought that our little tryst was making me fall for you, and how could I possibly do a thing like this is I was in love with you, right?" I looked into my mug, feeling more ashamed than usual, and his grin widened, eyes glinting cruelly. "Let me enlighten you, Weasley. I don't love you. It's true that I can't keep my hands off you and can barely stand to be near you without ripping your clothing off, but that is all this is. I don't love you, I don't care for you. I don't want to hold your hand and coo gushy babble into your ear. I want to fuck you raw and make you scream and groan and flail in pain and ecstasy, but I do not want to cuddle afterwards."

I appraised him carefully while taking a sip, "But you do."

"What?"

"You cuddle afterwards. You don't gush at me, but you're gentle and you don't yell and I've fallen asleep with you more than a few times on that couch. You're snobbish and rude, but sometimes you're not, and I think that not gave me plenty of room to assume you felt more than lust."

He starred at me, resembling a fish with his mouth moving open and closed as though a response could not be found, and I thought that maybe he realized what I meant, that we were more and there was no room for him to deny it. I kept myself from grinning by finishing the tea, my insides fluttering about in anticipation for his agreement. But suddenly his face changed, mouth closing and eyes narrowing. My heart started racing as he stood, knowing that I was in for pain. I set straight and strong in my seat, determined not to allow him, still very angry by his actions earlier and now slightly hurt that I had been wrong. He stalked over and fisted great chunks of my hair, ripping me from the chair, and dragged me onto my knees on the ground. "Love? Is that what you think this is?" His voice was like rigid ice and his grip on my hair increased until I felt more than several strands give painfully away in his hand. He gave a disgusted grunt and shoved me onto the carpet, the force of my impact shattering the tea cup still clutched in my hand. The splintered pieces dug passed my flimsy t-shirt and into my skin, causing angry gashed to cut across my chest.

I felt his shoed foot press against the middle of my back, keeping me in place as he spit out 'love' again. "I'll show you what love feels like, Weasley. "Crucio!"

My heart stopped, my lungs gave out, my muscles spasmed, and all I could feel was unending, unimaginable pain. I began to convulse with it and my mouth was hanging open, and my eyes bulging, and I was screaming. There was nothing but pain.

And then, suddenly, it stopped. My heart began again, racing, and I sucked in a deep breath. My entire body ached and I could hardly move. Draco's foot was still pressing me into the carpet and the lost chards of the cup. "Is that love? Is it, Weasel?" I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, trying to soothe the pain. He kicked me, hard, in the small of my back and his voice grew low with danger, "Answer me."

"No," I managed to choke out, my voice a bit harsh from the pain and the screaming.

His foot was lifted off of me and I tried to squirm away from the fractured cup, but my body was in too much pain to make it very far. "I can't hear you. What did you say?" I felt a tug at my pants' legs and they were being taken off. This was not good. I could not take another of his assaults, I was already in so much pain.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice, "No, that wasn't love. You were right. I was wrong. I'm sorry. Please don't do this. Not now." Somewhere between 'love' and 'sorry' my voice turned desperate and I felt tears sting my eyes. He ignored my pleading and pulled the pajamas bottoms off along with my under shorts. I felt him kneel behind me and I frantically dug my hands into the carpet, trying to get away from him. "Please, Draco, No. You've made your point. Stop."

"Stop? Why would I stop? I'm not even close to being finished with you yet." He lifted my hips despite my protests and shoved into me, the feeling of ripping flesh spreading though me so quickly I called out. I continued to plead with him, but to no avail as he continued to ram into me with every thrust of his hips. It did not last long, but by the time he came, I was seething in agony and it felt as though he had put 'crucio' on me all over again. He leaned over me, still inside, and yanked my hair up so his mouth was level with my ear. "Still think this had anything to do with love, Weasel?"

I shook my head, panting and closing my eyes. I just wanted him to go away and leave me to lick my wounds in private. He pulled out of me and I heard him re-dress, but I did not open my eyes or lift my head from where it had dropped on the carpet. I concentrated on my breathing and waited.

"No one knows about this, correct? You don't tell Potter or the Mudblood and you don't go to Pomfrey or Dumbledore or whoever the fuck you would go to. This doesn't leave this room." I didn't answer him, waiting to hear his footsteps retreat.

After an agonizingly long amount of time, he left. Relief washed over me as I rolled onto my back and began to remover the embedded shards of porcelain, wincing slightly. Once finished, I peeled the shirt off and, with some great effort, crawled over and onto the couch. I tugged my pajamas bottoms back up and called for Dobby, needing someone to help clean up and possibly heal the deep gashes in my chest. When he appeared, he took one look at me and threatened to take me to the hospital wing. I had to beg him and lie to him to get him not to. After he'd left, I settled into the blanket he'd gotten me and curled up on the couch, not wanting to go back to my bed just yet.

The next morning I woke to the bell ending breakfast and decided to go back to my room. I still ached and I did not want to face anyone, and especially not Malfoy. It took a while, mostly because I had to hide in a few alcoves to keep from meeting anyone, but I got back to Gryffindor and crawled into my bed, drawing the curtains closed. I awoke three hours later to Harry sitting, leant over me, his nose not three inches from mine, and a worried look on his face. "Hey, where have you been? Hermione's near hysterical. You didn't come back last night and you didn't go to class. Where were you?"

I rolled onto my side, blocked by his arm from rolling to the other side of the bed. My side was much better than my stomach. The pain had begun to ebb everywhere else, but I had been too ashamed to let Dobby see below the hemline of my pants. I knew Harry was waiting for an answer, but I was not ready to tell him anything yet, wasn't sure if I ever would be.

"Ron?" he whispered, but I only shut my eyes. I heard him sigh and then he was running by back with the hand not blocking me. "You can tell me, you know. Something's happened. What is it?" I stayed silent, but relaxed into his massage, letting him know that I wasn't ignoring him. I think he understood because he sighed again and pattered my shoulder, "Alright. Do you want me to call Pomfrey or Dumbledore?" I shook my head slightly. "Okay, I'll tell Hermione and McGonagall that you're back, but not feeling well. Get some rest. I'll come and check on you later." I felt his lips press against the back of my hair and then his weight was lifted off the bed and I was alone once more.

Sometime before dinner, there was a loud CRACK and a house elf I did not recognize stood next to my bed. He looked startled to see me in bed, not surprising since they were not supposed to be seen by students. "Jambie is sorry, sir. Jambie is not knowing anyone is here, sir. Jambie is just making a delivery, sir." I smiled reassuringly at the elf, but did not say anything. "Jambie is to put this on Master Weezy's pillow, sir. He is not saying what Jambie is doing if you is here, sir." I reached a hand out to the nervous elf. He hesitated, but then placed the box in my hand before leaving with another CRACK. It was larger than the others had been and I sat up, wincing, in curiosity. After unwrapping the familiar silver paper, I took off the lid. A note lay on top of folded green tissue paper and I picked it up to see what he had to say.

Where are you? Potter and the Mudblood have been frantic since breakfast, which means you didn't go back to the dorms, and yet you weren't down at the tapestry either. Or the infirmary. Where did you go? You didn't tell, did you?

I set the note aside and moved to tissue paper away. Underneath laid a rich, green, cashmere sweater. It was beautiful, soft, and exactly my size. There was no way I would ever be able to wear is without causing questions to be asked, but it was still beautiful. I tucked it away in the box again and stuffed it under the bed before slipping back under the sheets to try to rest more and think about what had happened.

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A/N: thank you to plugindelaney for pointing out a few of my grammar/typing mistakes. you are a goddess :)