Recap: A hand clamped over her mouth and she was facing away from her captor. As he began to force her forward with the weight of his body, he whispered in her ear: "Not a peep, Granger. Not. A. Peep." Hermione nodded in understanding and continued to walk forward, fear exploding into her mind. Who was doing this to her? She hadn't recognized the voice that had spoken. It had been deep and gruff and entirely new to her. The hand that was covering her mouth was tan, a bit calloused, most likely from playing quidditch.

What was happening to her? Where was he taking her?

Only one possible situation occurred to her, and it was the one she wanted no more of: rape.

XXX

Disclaimer: I wish I could claim these wonderful people that have made my life enjoyable. But, alas, they are all of Rowling's creation, and therefore, I own nothing.

Warning: There is some sexual content in this chapter, along with some other touchy subjects, such as rape and self-mutilation. I apologize for the morbidity, but it's essential for the story line. You've been warned.

Chapter Nine: Wrong Place, Wrong Time

"Ron, wait!" Harry ran breathlessly after his red headed friend, hoping that he caught up in time to tame the fury that was sure to be unleashed on Dean. Ron's temper was a force not to be reckoned with, and when Dean had hexed Ginny, not only was he reckoning with Ron, but also challenging him. Nothing good could come of it.

"Ron! Keep your head, please! Calm down, let's talk about it!" Even though he knew that Ron's rage blocked out all else, Harry felt he had to at least try to get through to him.

Ron was a foot away from Dean when Harry threw himself into the dormitory. Depending on his Seeker reflexes, Harry drew his wand and yelled "Petrificus Totalus!" Ron was stopped in his tracks, and fell backward with a thud to the floor. Harry could see the heat in his eyes.

"Get yourself out of here, Dean. I'll talk with you later." Without a word, Dean scrambled off the bed, around Ron, leaving ample room between himself and the highly irritated Weasley. Once he had secured the door, Harry returned to Ron and lifted the body bind off of him.

"Just hear me out, Ron. What would tearing Dean limb from limb prove?"

"He hurt my sister! You expect me to sit here and do nothing?" Ron screamed.

"The damage is already done. There's no point." Harry replied softly.

"Harry, you don't understand! She's my sister! I have to do something! I may not be able to do anything about whatever the hell is going on between you and Hermione, but I'm not letting that slimy little bag of dragon dung hurt my sister and get a way with it. Not like you two hurt me!" Ron's face was as red as his hair, and his rage was burning him from the inside, out, and he didn't even realize what had just slipped off his tongue.

He left the room in a huff, leaving Harry to sort out his thoughts. What about him and Hermione?

XXX

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. It's happening. Oh my God, it's really happening. Hermione was scared beyond belief, beyond all reason. Her only thought now was that she was done for. Whoever was holding her against her will was going to rape her, and then kill her. She'd never see Harry or Ron again, not even Lavender or Parvati. She wouldn't be able to take her N.E.W.T.s!

She wasn't even struggling against her captor. She was just walking as he led her through another door that was at the opposite end from the one they had just entered. It was getting colder, and Hermione shivered. The man with his hand over her mouth began to talk to her, calmly, even cheerfully.

"Oh, this is going to be such fun," he whispered maliciously. "You of all people. Ha! I never would have dreamed of it, but since you've been spending more time with Malfoy, you need to be put back in your place before you think you can consider yourself an equal among us purebloods."

His free hand whipped in front of her and settled upon her belly, pushing her back into his chest. Not only could she feel his heart beat now, but she could also feel the newly formed erection pressing into her lower back. It only increased her panic, and she began to squeal, fruitlessly, into the palm of the hand over her mouth. Not to mention she now had an idea of the size of her adversary… and he was large.

He chuckled. "Well, you have some fight in you, anyways. Good. I enjoy a challenge." Abruptly, he spun her around and slammed her, very hard, against the stone wall of the room they were currently in. Hermione's head smacked the wall smartly, and stars erupted in front of her eyes. "That's going to leave a nasty bump, in the morning."

By the time her vision cleared, Hermione's skirt had already been dropped to her ankles, as were her silk panties. She tried screaming. But no sound came out. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," she heard by her ear. "You, of all people, should know that I wouldn't let you scream, just in case anyone happened to wander down here."

The man pulled his face back, and Hermione blanched. It was Vincent Crabbe. The nasty sonofabitch that he was, he was grinning stupidly at her as he began to undo her blouse. "This will be so much fun," he said after he had finished with the last button and was gazing at the pale pink brassiere that matched her recently removed panties. With a cocky smile, he added, "Who would have known plain, prude Granger would have such taste in under garments?"

Hermione's eyes were burning with hatred. How dare he look at her this way? How dare he try to take advantage of her? But as she was thinking these things, Crabbe shoved two fingers into her, probing savagely. His eyes lightened with surprise. "Well, Granger. You aren't as prude as I thought. No proof of virginity, here," he said, as he continued to let his fingers roam inside of her. "So who'd you fuck? Weasley? Potter? Figures, you spend so much time together. Or did you all do it together? Wait 'til this gets out."

Crabbe's breathing was becoming heavy as he continued to maneuver his fingers clumsily inside her. Hermione, however, did nothing. What, with all the times her father had done this to her, she knew to just be still and get it over with. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't allow Crabbe the satisfaction of seeing just how much this was ripping her apart. Now, not only was she a victim of incest, but also of regular rape.

After another few minutes, Crabbe withdrew his fingers, and began to leave slobbery kisses all over Hermione's neck and chest. When he came to the barrier of the silk bra, he growled in frustration, and ripped the thing off of her, leaving it in tatters on the floor. Greed filled his eyes and he latched his mouth over one of her nipples, biting painfully. No sound would have escaped from Hermione's lips, even if she hadn't been placed under a silencing charm. Crabbe moved to the other breast.

Okay Hermione, just like you do with Daddy, put yourself some place else. You're in a meadow full of green grass and flowers, just lying there staring up at the clouds. There's a yellow lab lying next to you, and you're stroking it lovingly. Laughter is carried to you by the wind, coming from a small cabin surrounded by blossoming bushes of roses. You sit up, and see a little girl bounding toward you, white blonde hair flying behind her, shining in the bright sunlight. Looking past her bright smile, you see a little boy of about two with brown hair tugging on the robes of a man. Your husband. You look up and you see your husbands face, smiling down at your son, then looking at you as the little girl runs into you, toppling into your lap. Everything is as perfect as it could be. Two beautiful children, a lovely home, and a husband. A loving husband with the whitest blond hair, the most gorgeous gray eyes you'd ever seen. And you were Mrs. Dra—

Her senses snapped back to attention however, at that precise moment, for Crabbe had just driven himself into Hermione with such force, her head was yet again snapped against stone and stars exploded before her. With each thrust, Crabbe bit Hermione somewhere, anywhere he could reach. He was being so… sexually sadistic, biting the girl's shoulder, her neck, her breasts. In a few places he drew blood.

When he had pleasured himself enough in the form of penetration, he threw Hermione down to the floor completely ripping the loose clothes from her body. Now, he let his tongue drift lazily over her stomach, down and down until he stopped, and began to probe, not with his fingers this time, but with tongue.

Hermione was so repulsed. She just wanted to die. She'd had enough. But Crabbe was done sooner than expected, and he stood up and looked down at her, smiling smugly. "You were a good fuck, Granger. Hell of a lot better than I would have thought possible. Now… what should I do with you?" Laughing, he began to kick her: in the face, her stomach, her back, between the legs. Once she was bruised and bloody enough for his satisfaction, Crabbe bent down and brushed the hair from her face so he could look into her eyes.

"I hope you die down here, Granger. No doubt you will, seeing I probably broke some of your ribs. And you're having trouble breathing," he said, as Hermione wheezed. "Good." His smile only grew broader when she coughed up blood. "Internal bleeding. Exactly what I wanted. You will die down here, mudblood. No one will come looking for you down here. But, to be fair, I'll take off the silencing charm. It's not like you can scream, anyway."

With that, Crabbe turned and left Hermione in a pool of blood.

XXX

How could he not have noticed? It was so plainly obvious. It seemed that everyone he asked had known, and yet, he, one of the people closest to Ron, had failed to see it. Harry had failed to see that Ron liked Hermione a lot. And, according to everyone, he had for quite a long time.

Where could he have gone? After Dean, of course, but where was that? Harry continued to patrol the halls, keeping an eye out for bright red hair, and listening for yells. He'd been doing this for over an hour, now and was tiring of it quickly. He wasn't in the mood to play peacemaker. If anything, he wanted to hurt something, or someone, himself.

Just where did Ron get off thinking that Harry and Hermione would keep something as huge as dating each other (if they had been dating each other) a secret from him? If anything, they would have told him the moment that they started seeing each other. They wouldn't want to ruin the bond that three had made throughout all their adventures and six years of friendship.

Fuming, Harry walked through Nearly Headless Nick, and felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him.

"Dear boy, watch where you're going!"

"Sorry, Nick," muttered Harry. "I'm just… preoccupied. Have you seen Ron or Dean anywhere?"

"Actually, yes. I passed Ron just a few moments ago. He's sitting in one of the empty classrooms down the Charms corridor. Seemed quite distressed."

"Thanks," Harry said, and dashed down the hall, making a sharp turn when he hit the charms corridor. Oh boy, was Ron gonna get it. Harry was going to give him a piece of his mind, the likes of which he'd never experienced.

Harry felt betrayed; how could Ron think that he'd keep something that important from him after so many years of trusting each other with their lives? It just didn't make sense. It was like Ron didn't trust him at all anymore, and that stung more than anything. Harry remembered back to second year when everyone had deserted him, thinking he was the heir of Slytherin. He didn't want that distance and cold shoulder from Ron ever again. But come hell or high water, Harry was going to let Ron know that he didn't appreciate being accused of something that hadn't even happened, more over, something that Ron hadn't even asked him of.

Throwing open each unlocked door he passed, Harry continued to pump himself up, ready for the encounter between himself and his spitfire best friend. But when he finally found the classroom in which Ron was hiding, all thoughts of going after him verbally were swept from his mind. What he saw was entirely unexpected, and all he wanted to do was rush Ron to the hospital wing.

Ron looked up when he heard the door swing open, and he tried to cover the sinful marks he had just created, but with no success. Sighing, Ron turned his back on Harry. He had a lot of explaining to do.

XXX

What was she going to do? She was naked, her clothes torn and tattered, and she could barely move, for the pain was so great. Wincing with every breath she took, Hermione slowly, very slowly, made her way to the pile of torn clothes. The only thought in her mind was that she had to cover herself. What if someone came down and saw her, lying there, naked?

Tears began to fall. She couldn't stop them, and no matter how hard she tried, the salty drops only fell faster.

After another several minutes of excruciating pain and determined effort, Hermione had managed to bring herself to the pile of tattered clothing. Rummaging around, she found her skirt mercifully intact (this had been disposed of long before Crabbe had taken to destroying her clothes); she slipped it on, so glad to have some sense of dignity. With the rest of the ripped material beside her, she covered the top of herself as best she could.

For the next twenty minutes, Hermione lay there on her back, praying that someone would come and find her, hoping that she wouldn't be here until morning.

And her prayers were answered in the form of a raven-haired, violet-eyed little girl.

XXX

The fire crackled in its grate, and Draco sat on a couch before it, working on a Potions essay. It wasn't easy work for him; he was still riled that somehow, Potter had gotten into the N.E.W.T. potions class when he had only achieved an excellent. This irked Draco terribly and caused him to lose his focus on the task at hand.

Sighing in frustration, Draco set his book and half written essay on the table in front of the fire, planning to finish it later, when he heard screams coming from outside the wall that disguised the entrance to the common room.

Curious, he went to the wall and summoned Rhianna, who appeared instantly.

"It is some little black haired girl," Rhianna began. "She is speaking of Miss Granger telling her to come here and tell you that she is extremely hurt and needs assistance."

"Let me through," Draco said with duty in his voice. "Where is she?" he asked Kaiden, as tears spilled down her flushed cheeks.

"This way," and Kaiden began to run full out back the way she had come. If they didn't get there soon, Hermione was going to be dead, she knew it. Being empathic had its advantages, she thought morosely, such as saving a life.

Draco's on mind however was concentrated elsewhere. What has the mud— I mean, muggleborn, gotten herself into? Surely she can take care of herself well enough. She's practically a walking encyclopedia, for Heaven's sake. It would only be too easy to reach back into that full reservoir of knowledge she had and cast the appropriate spell. Maybe this little girl was just trying to play a joke on him. If she was, she was in for a very nasty reality check.

"Just a bit further!" the girl urged, hurtling around a corner that was hardly ever used by the student body. After rounding the corner in question himself, all thought fled from him as he saw Hermione lying on the floor, bruised and bloody, ragged breaths barely reaching his ears. Oh. My. God, he thought.

Rushing to her side, he screamed at Kaiden "Go up to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey to get a bed ready, and quickly! Tell her the state that Hermione's in and don't leave until I get there, I still want to talk to you."

"But, what about —" Kaiden began but Draco cut her off.

"GO!" he shouted. How dense could she be that she didn't know to take direction to save someone's life? Looking back down at Hermione, an unpleasant lump formed in the back of his throat, he gently patted her bloody cheek, wishing her awake.

Her eyes fluttered about half way open and looked into the eyes of her savior. "Draco?" she murmured weakly. "It… it hurts," she hissed.

"I know. I'm here to help. And it's going to hurt worse for a couple minutes. I need to lift you up and get you to the hospital wing straight away. Can you sit up at all?" He noticed her trying and quickly cut her short. "Obviously not. Okay, I'm going to pick you up, and it's going to hurt, but I'll be as gentle as possible, okay?" At Hermione's nod, Draco scooped her into his arms like he had that night in the bathroom, and he began to sprint toward the hospital wing.

It didn't even occur to him about simply levitating Hermione's body to the hospital wing. It would have saved her a great deal of pain, and he, a tremendous amount of physical drain, but he hadn't even considered that option. By holding her body in his arms, and not by his wand, he had broken the first bit of the wall that his father had erected so preciously around Draco's mind, closing it to anything but what he had been taught to believe. It was a big step, and neither himself nor Hermione were aware of it.

After another five minutes, Draco sprinted into the dimly lit hospital wing, setting Hermione on the bed that Madam Pomfrey had prepared upon the little girl's frantic urging.

Gasping as she saw Hermione, Madam Pomfrey drew her wand from the apron around her dress and began muttering healing spells over the girl's face and arms. When it came to the rest of her body, Madam Pomfrey urged Draco to leave for a few moments while attending to the cuts and abrasions on Hermione's torso and upper leg (she could save the girl some of her dignity, at least).

Pacing in agony of the unknown, Draco's temper rose and he accidentally busted the closest nearby window. If only he knew Hermione's condition, he could go back to his Potion's essay. And why did he care so much about how she was doing? If she was stabilized yet? She was nothing but a lowly mud — muggleborn — and a Gryffindor. He shouldn't worry about her, but he did. And that was the whole problem. He didn't want to worry about her, in any way, shape or form, and the only way he was going to stop that from happening was if he severed all ties from the girl that he had been getting along with nicely enough for the past week. And therein lied the other problem: he didn't want to shun her out of his life. She had proved to be a very good conversationalist and had helped him in the few areas of his studies that needed improving. How could he go back to despising her with everything that he was after she had so graciously helped him with homework, had talked to him without any resentment in her voice?

Kaiden poked her head out of the infirmary door and tentatively asked, "Draco? Do you still wish to speak with me?"

"Yes. Come here." His voice was a bit more clipped than he had wanted, but she responded without complaint, and that satisfied him immensely. "Now, tell me. How exactly did you find her? That corridor is hardly used by any students, and you're only a first year. You need not go down there on your own."

"Well… do you know what empaths are, Draco?" It surprised him that she addressed him with his given name, and not his last.

"Yes, I do, but what does that have to do with —"

"Look at my eyes, Draco. What color are they?" Kaiden asked simply, smiling up at him. With closer inspection, he saw that her eyes were a deep violet, not the brown color he had thought they originally were.

"You're an empath," he breathed.

"Yes, I am. And I assume you know what exactly an empath tunes into."

"Yes, pain but —"

"Pain of the heart and mind. It wasn't her physical pain that drew me, Draco. It was because her soul was suffering, not from what she had just experienced, but from the memories it stirred in her. Memories she so desperately wants to forget." Kaiden was staring intently into Draco's face and wished she could tell him all that she had seen as she saw Hermione lying there in a pool of her own blood.

"What kinds of memories?" Draco asked. He was genuinely interested in what horrible things had happened to the know-it-all Granger, and was dissatisfied with Kaiden's reply.

"I can't tell you that. Even though I know, it is for her to tell you, if and when, she chooses to do so. Being an empath is a burden as much, if not more, than it is a blessing, Draco. Remember that. I have to go. I'll come visit Hermione later tomorrow. During morning break, most likely. Owl me and let me know how she does through the night." Without showing a hint of revulsion on her face at the images rushing through her mind, she turned and headed back to the Gryffindor common room, feeling exhausted, and sorry for Hermione for all that she had been put through.

Back in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was just putting dabs of a healing paste on Hermione's face that was supposed to help prevent scarring, when Draco burst in, unable to contain himself any longer.

"TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH HER, OR I SWEAR, I'LL CURSE YOU!" Draco bellowed, flinging his wand at the medi-witch.

"Calm down, mister Malfoy! Dear me," she muttered, puttering about in a drawer of a nightstand by Hermione's bed. "Miss Granger, here, will be just fine. You can stay another hour, but after that, you need to leave. She needs her rest, and she can't do that with you breathing down her neck every ten seconds."

For that was exactly what he was doing. Draco had lowered his face 'til it was three inches from hers, studying every scratch and bruise that adorned her face, and any other part of skin showing. It hurt him to look at her this way, he realized.

Just as he was bending up from her bed, the hospital wing door burst open, and two people rushed in, carrying another.

"MADAM POMFREY! WE NEED YOU RIGHT NOW, WE HAVE A SERIOUS CONDITION ON OUR HANDS!" one of the people screamed, his voice clipped and tight.

The other person that had helped carry in the body was a girl, crying. "Please," she whispered, into the hands that covered her face.

Looking over at the bed on which the boy had been deposited, all Draco could see was blood; shining, red blood, already seeping onto the white bed sheets.

AN: did you guys know that fanfic might be taking away the author's option of putting author's notes in updates? I think it's complete bull. and I don't have the link where you can sign a petition to stop this from happening, but look around for it if you still want these notes because seriously, how else can I really get through to you guys? So. yea. If you find that site or whatever, please sign it.

Also, I'm a member of a Harry Potter fan forum. It's called Godric's Hollow and we really need members. I'm Slytherin HoH, moderator (soon-to-be co-administrator), and the DADA teacher. Please join. It can be really fun. We have games, fanfic request/recommendation sections and much more. If you do join, when you take the Sorting quiz, please mention that xTaylorMichelle referred you to the site. Hope to see you in Slytherin guys!
http/xxheadmistress. sorry for the delay on this chapter, guys. It's been done for a while, but I like being a chapter ahead. Just makes me feel more secure. But here you are!

Chapter Ten: Sentry Duty Who is it that came into the Hospital Wing, screaming for their dying friend? And who exactly is the person bleeding all over those sheets?

Next chapter should be posted within two weeks. Please be patient, you guys. School's started and it'll take me a bit longer to get these chapters out. Just stick with me. )