Trigger Warning: this chapter contains brief depictions of a flashback involving sexual assault. Please read the end of chapter notes to check if this will be triggering for you. Flashback begins mid-chapter, in italics.

Hello, everyone. I know I've been MIA, but I've been having a hard time with life. I'm a bit better now (that's why I was able to write) so I hope you'll excuse me if I'm not capable of uploading as frequently as before. Regardless, the story is not in hiatus. If such thing was to happen, I would let you know. A million thanks for reaching out via Twitter or comments and for reading my work.

"They're going to kill you, Granger."

"No, they won't! I'm not — "

"No. I can't lose you."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, I'm not having this conversation again!"

"Meow?"

A soft meow on his ear. The gentle taps he had become used to feel on his face whenever Lilith was hungry, or —

Draco woke up with a start after one of the most peaceful nights he'd had in months, perhaps years. He'd almost sent Lilith flying when he sat in bed, but she got off his chest at the last second.

Where was he?

He fingered the soft, green quilt, trying to put the pieces together in his foggy mind. The familiarity of the ambiance took him back some years ago, in that very same room.

But things weren't like they were then. Voldemort was six feet under. His father was in prison where he belonged. And Granger was not by his side.

Draco heard another meow; a barely-there, exhausted purr that broke his heart — yet again — to another thousand pieces. Or was it in the millions now, considering how often it had been happening?

He didn't want to look backwards because he was absolutely sure of what he'd find there, or who he'd find. There would be no Hermione Granger lying on the bed next to him. But he also knew that he had to look, because he was the only one who knew her secret, and — Merlin knew why — she had entrusted him with her story. Kind of.

So he turned, schooling his features back to their usual nonchalance. He occluded just a bit; enough so that he wouldn't feel cold but also wouldn't break down and cry. For her; for them.

There was sadness in her eyes, too.

"Hey Granger," Draco murmured, surreptitiously running his eyes over the shiny plaque stating his now non-existent ownership over her. "Sleep well?"

Her tail flicked in annoyance, a disapproving look on her feline features.

"Yeah, sorry, I gathered. You recognise me now?"

She nodded, her brown eyes sad once again.

"Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?"

She nodded again, tucking her paws beneath her. He smiled fondly, immediately remembering how Theo lost his mind whenever Lilith went into "loaf mode." However, his happiness was short-lived, for the uncomfortable reality that Lilith had never been Lilith was settling in.

Draco occluded harder, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"Okay. We need to think of what we're going to do from now on. Salazar, I haven't even begun to dimension how much shit we're in right now…" he fumbled his way up, immediately pacing in front of the bed from bedpost to bedpost.

Did something similar happen to all of the other members of the Order who disappeared? Who did this to her? Or was her incident a completely different affair?

"Did you turn back on purpose?" He asked, to which he received a vigorous shake of her head.

"I know this is a stupid question, but you're not an animagus, are you?" A pause, and then another negative response from Granger.

"Makes sense. There's no marking on your body that resembles any particular scar or something, right?" Granger-Lilith's murderous gaze was accompanied by a stern expression that screamed an uncharacteristic "are you shitting me?" It was almost funny to see her wildly gesticulating at herself with her paws, doing her best to convey a message without fingers.

Suddenly, it dawned on Draco, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Right. The hair."

Her answer came in the shape of herself turning around indignantly with a cute little sniff, giving him the cold… what would he call it? Certainly not shoulder.

"Alright, alright. Calm down, Granger. You should assume it's your trademark by now. Own it." She yawned.

Suddenly, Draco had an insane thought. What if, by chance, she could control her transformations?

"Bear with me for a moment. Why don't you try to turn back to a human?" Her ears perked up and her back straightened. "Got her attention," Draco thought, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Go on," he encouraged her, turning his back to her then. "I won't look. You still have the pyjamas I transfigured last night, yes? You can put those on if you make it."

A tense minute passed in which absolutely nothing happened. Draco swore he heard Granger huff and had to bite his tongue not to laugh. The whole absurdity of the situation was baffling in and of itself. His amusement was short-lived though, for his skin prickled and his blood hummed with the now increasingly common magic of her transformation. The room glowed in that beautiful purple hue, and an excited squeal echoed in the ancient stone.

"I did it! Good Godric, I did it!" Granger celebrated, laughing in elation before quickly snatching the pyjamas and covering herself up.

"Not that I had any doubts, but it took longer than I expected," Draco joked, receiving a soft sting to the nape of his neck.

He cried out, facing her with a confused expression. He let go of his occlumency a bit, holding onto it just enough to quell the anxiety bubbling inside. "How did you do that?" Draco asked, discreetly eyeing his wand — which was absolutely out of her reach.

"Oh," Hermione blushed, "nothing much. A bit of wandless magic, is all."

"You'll have to teach me the motions for that one. I manage a handful of spells, but not hexes."

"It was super useful when the boys got insufferable" she beamed, showing her perfect teeth proudly. "I can also cast accio, wingardium leviosa, levicorpus, alohomora —"

The combination of spells she listed had made Draco uneasy, and he immediately noticed why. The memories danced to the forefront of his mind, making him assemble the puzzle in a heartbeat. "Could you cast as Lilith?"

Granger stopped enumerating her magical abilities. "Yes, I could — I can. Why?" She shuffled anxiously, the truth blatant on her face. Sure, she was able to lie to her batshit crazy aunt on the face in a life-or-death situation, but to him, she was as easy to read as she'd always been.

"Why did you help me?"

Hermione blinked, staring at the way his back straightened up and the tiny muscles around his eyes tensed in an unnatural calm, smooth expression. His voice was hard, yet not unkind. There was no shakiness in it due to the occlumency, but she'd known him long enough to guess the source of his vulnerability.

So she decided to be vulnerable, too.

She wasn't sure why, exactly. Maybe it was the way his eyes conveyed what his mouth did not. How relaxed and content he seemed whenever he spent time with Lilith. How the haunted look he got in his face eased a little with his friends or with her. How she felt sorry because of the horrible choice he had been forced to make. How now that she was not her feline alter ego he was left without that tiny spark of happiness that Lilith brought on with her antics.

"I won't pretend to understand the relationship you have with Theodore and Blaise" Hermione began, her voice soft and soothing. "I just felt like you needed some help and I —"

Draco's features hardened completely then.

"Oh, so I was just your new pity-project, right? Helping the disgraced Death Eater" he spat at her, "taming the failed Dark Wizard? So what, so that you could get more fame? Money?" His voice, bitter with resentment and anger, raised in volume with every word. As it echoed in the dimly-lit and suddenly chilly room, he walked towards her, backing Granger against the wall.

"What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy, I really wanted to —"

"Or was it the title you were after?" Draco slammed his open palm next to her head, now resting on the cold stone of the Room of Requirement. He expected some kind of retort from her after his implications, as she always did through the years. Sometimes Granger answered back in anger, others with confidence. Disdain or pity, even. But in that moment… she was shaking.

Her eyes were glossy and unfocused; neither here nor there. Her breaths came out in shallow huffs and gasps, but they were nothing close to pleasurable. They were sounds of horror, quickly increasing their pace as if she were running away from someone — or something.

Although Fenrir Greyback's unsettling smile was hovering several heads over hers, the stench of blood in his breath hit Hermione square in the face. His forearm was pressed against her throat, pinning her hard against the walls of the Manor. One of his knees was in the process of parting her legs, paying absolutely no mind to her kicks and attempts at scratching him. Without her wand and with Greyback's thick werewolf skin protecting him, the minimal hexes she could manage with wandless magic were like tickles for him.

On the sidelines, Harry was spiraling into shock while Ron screamed bloody murder. The snatchers laughed, making him believe they were letting him lose only to grab him tight again. Hermione thought she saw a tear run down Harry's disfigured face, creating a path down his dirty cheek.

Suddenly, she felt a disgusting, sloppy tongue against her neck.

"Oh, I feel her shiver," Geryback boasted, enjoying her trembling. "I can smell your fear. Tell me, little whore, have you ever been taken before?"

Hermione's eyes opened wide at the crude language, feeling now her own set of tears rolling down her thick eyelashes. "This is not real," she thought, in a poor attempt to detach from the horrifying situation they'd been dragged into. "I am back at Hogwarts. I am at the library doing my homework…"

Suddenly, a sharp sting on her cheek brought her back to reality.

"I asked you a question, bitch!"

Ron's hoarse screaming echoed in the cold hallways of the Manor.

Granger?

She blinked twice, taking her time for her eyes to focus on her surroundings. The present. Stone. Blue fire. A bed with a Slytherin-green quilt. The crackling of a fireplace nearby.

"That's right," Malfoy whispered, "come back…"

She noticed he was holding his wand, but decided to save that observation for later. He was nervous and visibly paler than usual. Hermione could also see uneasiness and guilt underneath. His occlumency was failing him.

Once she was calmer, Draco stepped away and turned his back on her. "Right. It's getting late. We should go back to the Head dorms now and then discuss what to do later."

There was no apology; only an uncomfortable silence as she transformed back into Lilith and they made their way to their shared dorm.

The flashback happens when the Golden Trio are taken to the Manor on Easter. There, while they are waiting for Narcissa to appear, Fenrir immobilizes Hermione and begins to grope her, ending up slapping her when she refuses to answer his degrading questions