Author's Note: Written for prompt #1 (doubt) of prompt set 50.1 at 100quills on LiveJournal. Warming up my writing skills, so it is, perhaps, a bit cliché. Constructive criticism and any comments/reviews are much appreciated!

"Shattered Sanctuary"

She lay on the bathroom floor, curled into the fetal position. The tiles were soothing to her feverish skin, but did nothing for her bruised psyche. She choked back the bile rising in her throat, refusing to give in to another wave of sickness, and began to replay the events of the past weeks. Mistakes piled upon more mistakes, and within moments she found herself questioning the validity of every decision she'd ever made.

When Malfoy had approached her outside of The Leaky Cauldron all those weeks ago, she'd thrown caution to the wind and given in to passion and an overwhelming attraction for just one night. What harm could come of it, really? No one else would ever have to know. Then just one night had turned into just one more, and then two more, and so on. Funneling years of hurt and rage into a few erotic interludes had seemed the perfect escape from a world rapidly tearing itself to shreds around them. Just one night, and then one more -- no expectations, no pressure; only pure release.

In his bed, she did not need all of the answers, and the only master that he served was lust. There was no Voldemort and no Order of the Phoenix. There were no Mudbloods, no Purebloods, and no War. They had made no empty promises that they could not keep and they had not planned ahead. They had been slaves to their now shattered sanctuary.

The bathroom door squeaked a bit as it was pushed open from the outside. Malfoy's lips parted as though to form a question, but as his eyes swept from the woman crumpled on the floor to the Muggle pregnancy test lying on the counter, he had all of the answers that he would ever need from her. He turned around and wordlessly walked away.

As Hermione lay on the floor doubting her very sanity, Draco doubted only his strength to keep walking.