wow, i updated. shocked, i like this story and it's one of my favorites, but i do prefer SWSNBS(A), but i decided to be a good person and update. so U be good people and REVIEW! i cant help but send a plea out to taintless, now that ive updated this will u update Deal With the Devil? the cliffhanger's KILLING me.

The route to Hogwarts was not an easy one. In the Headmaster's absence layers upon layers of protective spells and charms had been cast, jinxes that would make Hermione green with envy. The thought of her brought a rush of emotion swelling to Harry's chest.

"We will save her, Harry. I can assure you that Miss Granger will be safe from harm." Dumbledore whispered, somehow reading his old student's expression.

Ron couldn't let that go without adding his own two cents, or knuts, in this occasion. "And if she's got so much as a bruise Malfoy'll be deader than a doorknob, though I never quite got the expression..." He added cheerfully, and Harry had to resist laughing.

We're almost here.

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"Hello, Hermione." His voice was dangerously soft and she knew the instant that he had entered that there was something wrong. She did not bother to respond and only scowled in return, as usual.

Before she had even realized his intense anger he was upon her, his cold, pale hands wrapped around her thin neck, choking the life out of her. She could not scream due to the lack of breath in her lungs, but she did not go down without a fight. When he finally released her there were beet-red scratches traveling up the side of his arms and bruises as battle scars.

Malfoy looked down on her as she hyperventilated and attempted to regain her composure to no avail. She collapsed to the floor, still conscious and alert. He read the question in her eyes, though she was quite sure that he would have shouted it, anyway.

"How could you do this? To me! To me!" This seemed to be the part that got Malfoy's figurative goat the most.

"Wha-w-whaat?" She asked, massaging her throat gingerly.

He rolled his eyes, completely out of his own character, yes, but he did it anyway. "Potty and Weasel are on their way, to save you, no doubt! You must've somehow informed them, there was no other way the imbeciles could have discovered it!" He roared at the top of his lungs, pacing her room quickly.

"No matter," He said after a few moments, calmer than before. "We'll be rid of them soon, undoubtedly. The Dark Lord will be more than ecstatic to find two squirming Gryffindors in his grip by dawn. Perhaps he won't need you." Despite her state of pain and shock, Hermione was still quite observant and picked up on his use of you instantly.

"What?" She croaked yet again, though this time with more conviction. He narrowed his eyes before shaking his head excessively.

"You don't need to know." He snapped, though this time with some type of concern. She recovered rather quickly.

"Yes, I do." Her voice was bossy once more as she struggled to her feet, hand still glued to her throat. "What are you talking about? What is V-Voldemort going to do with me?" She asked, her tone betraying her raw fear.

"Nothing," He replied truthfully, knowing that it would be he who did something with her, more like to her. Being Hermione Granger she would, obviously, not take this as a justifiable excuse.

"You come into the room you have given to me, strangle me like there's no tomorrow, and then won't elaborate? You brought this...on yourself." She gasped, still not completely recovered.

When he refused to answer, she continued. "You hate that I'm not in love with you, anymore. It's not as though I am, or ever will be, under the influence of Stockholm Syndrome, so why do you even-" Before she could finish he had already snatched her possessively by the hips and thrust her up against the chamber wall, lightly fingering the light fabric as his mouth lingered mere inches from hers.

"I love you. You will love me." There was no question in his tone, it was a command.

Hermione bit back a retort as she attempted to untangle herself from his grasp, speaking as kindly as she could manage. "Since when is it up to you who I love, Malfoy." She spat the word like a wretched curse word. He lifted his hand up and struck her firmly across the cheek, not a death blow, or even a slap that would cause unconsciousness, but it stung in a different manner. A ruckus sounded, as though on cue, from beneath them.

He backed away from her upon the interruption and turned towards the doors, knowing and dreading who was intruding.

"You can't control me, you know!" She called back after him before the door closed. "You never could."

He merely smirked, though he did not give the reply that he longed to sound, though it reverberated in his mind as he stalked down the stairs towards Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Albus Dumbledore. Watch me.