Fear

Terrified was hardly a word that could be used to describe how Draco was feeling.

It was just too undemanding.

Draco paced back and forth around his boathouse, looking down at the once-inactive tattoo on his left forearm. It had turned pitch black and was burning and fuck was he scared. Draco had never attended a Death Eater meeting, and though Snape had previously warned him about a gathering happening soon, he hadn't known how soon.

He didn't know Snape only gave him two days' time to prepare.

Realizing he had spent enough time pacing the room and he shouldn't keep Voldemort waiting, Draco hurried get out his wand and think of the destination. After a moment of tight squeezes, he found himself in Malfoy Manor.

He felt like puking – and not due to apparation.

"Ah," The powerful voice let out a sound that echoed the grand, silent room. Draco glanced around, attempting to gain composure, and found himself looking at the others who were seating around a large table; most of whom he was introduced to through Snape not even a month ago, "Young Malfoy." Understanding that he was being addressed, Draco looked to Voldemort's authoritative call.

And no matter how many times Draco had to look at the scaly beast, he would never get used to how utterly horrifying he looked. He couldn't be referred to as a wizard any longer, in Draco's eyes. His hatred had engrossed him too much – he was far too gone.

"How gracious of you to join us today," Voldemort's sharp eyes racked over Malfoy's body, stepping towards the boy who was using all of his energy to camouflage his terror, "A little sweaty, are we? Just got out of Quidditch?"

The room full of loyal subjects burst into amusement, chuckles and laughter bouncing off the walls – a sound that was hardly heard in Malfoy Manor; making the situation just that much more vivid and violent for Draco. Voldemort's mouth turned up into a wicked smile, and Draco didn't know whether or not to join in on the howling of voices or stay quiet. He chose the ladder.

As soon as Voldemort had started to grin, his face faltered, and fell – the laughter dying down with it. He put his hand on Draco's tight shoulder and guided him to a place near the head of the table, where he took a seat.

Draco looked over to the professor who was seated directly across from himself. Snape was staring intently and devotedly at Voldemort, listening carefully to what the self-proclaimed Dark Lord had to say. Malfoy decided to copy his actions.

"I've gathered you all here for a reason," Voldemort's voice shook the room, his commanding eyes overlooking his followers, "And that reason is to discuss Albus."

He paused as if a response were to come. It never came.

"His life has been cut short," Voldemort continued, "His time here up."

"And may he rest in animosity," Draco heard Bellatrix's voice respond to the Dark Lord, and he turned his head slightly to see her face gleaming from beside Snape. Draco hadn't even noticed her. Chuckles were heard quietly around the room and Draco glanced back to Voldemort to see if he approved. He did.

"Bellatrix, my loyal servant." He almost thanked her, the same wicked smile on his features. He turned back to the rest of those gathered around the table, "Draco is going to kill Albus."

Surprise glances shot around the room – Draco assumed this was the first most of them had heard of this. He felt his heart began to pound and his mouth become dry. He was nervous beyond a doubt and couldn't stand to hear the whispers that questioned his abilities. Draco had questioned his own abilities – if they didn't believe he could do it, then how could he?

Voldemort looked directly at Draco, his eyes surveying the boy. Draco felt his heart stop as Voldemort's smile left his face and his eyes locked on him. He felt his hands shaking and wanted to look away from the man-turned-snake, but knew that would only harm his integrity.

"Are you scared, boy?" Voldemort asked Draco, standing up. Draco quickly thought through what he couldn't possibly say at this time.

His mind drew a blank.

His mouth could no longer form any words.

Voldemort's eyes sharpened and his jaw clenched, "Stand up."

Draco felt his heart sink. He rose from his seat.

This can't be happening.

"Come here, child," Voldemort challenged, his degrading pet names bringing Draco closer to the reality of what was about to happen. Draco forced his legs to move away from the safety of the table towards the wizard so powerful, people worldwide feared to use his name.

"There is no room for fear here," the Dark Lord spoke again, voice deafening in Draco's ear. He circled the boy until he came full-stop in front of him, nose to nose.

"What are you so afraid of?" Voldemort questioned. Draco stood still in fear, unable to speak as if his mouth was full of sand. His throat was dry. He was stuck.

He was stranded.

Voldemort's snake-like eyes bore into Draco's silver pair. He waited for what seemed like an eternity for the Young Malfoy to answer his questions, but still, the room was cold and mute. A frown formed on his face.

"I guess we'll have to fix that," He said, stepping back. Draco felt his heart began to work again and his light-headedness began to fade. He kept quiet and that had saved him.

He could have never been so wrong.

"Crucio."

Draco could only see a red flash before he fell to the ground, screaming out in excruciating pain. He felt his eyes swell out of his head, his skull cracking in half. As though his body was being ripped apart at the seams, Draco heaved out vomit, his body shaking – trying to pull itself together.

"Sectumsempra."

All Draco could see was blood and vomit. His body convulsed in sporadic intervals, feeling his skin being stabbed and slashed, severed and sliced. Blood was squirting out of his thigh as he was trying to understand this unannounced attack. His hair was matted down against his head, blood covering his face. He gasped for breath to regain cognition, but the smell of vomit that reeked around his body caused his stomach to convulse again, vomit spewing out in front of him.

There were no reactions. Nobody dared to question.

"Alarte Adcendare."

Draco felt himself being lifted into the air. He was sure his death was near.

Suddenly, his body was being thrown to the table and he laid there, gasping for breath, looking for anyone to help him. He looked into the eyes of his aunt only to see indifference.

Time passed as he convulsed on the table. The room was silent except for the gasps of the near-dying boy on the table. After a while, Voldemort gave a final look at the teenager.

"Now, you have nothing left to be afraid of," and with his final words, Voldemort vanished.

The people around Draco vanished, as well, until there was only Professor Snape and Bellatrix left, looking at his convulsing body. His aunt Bellatrix leaned down to look him in the eye. He smelt her breath on his nose as his consciousness was leaving his body.

"That should teach you to speak up when the Dark Lord addresses you."

And forthwith, everything went dark.

Hermione looked at the book for the hundredth time that day.

It was already mid October, the leaves had begun to fall, and Draco still hadn't asked for his book back. Not that she had given him much of a chance to. It's not like she was going to march up to him and hand him his book after he had treated her as if she were nothing at all. She was picking up his books for him after he smashed into her and he was still being the same old arsehole he always was.

It shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did. After his lack of response in the Great Hall to Theo's remark she had hoped he would at least leave her alone.

After tearing through the poetry novel, reading it all over word by word, Hermione couldn't find one clue as to why Malfoy had taken an interest in a romantic poetry wizard from the early 20th Century. It frustrated her to no ends.

And where exactly was Malfoy? After perfect attendance since the day after she bumped into him, Malfoy had skipped classes today and was no where to be seen. Curiosity got the better of Hermione, and she found herself reaching into her pillowcase and pulling out the Marauder's Map.

A feeling of anxiety sifted into her stomach. Why did she have to know where he was? Why did she care about what happened to him?

She quickly pushed those thoughts to the side. It's not that she cared about him, it's simply the fact that today she had wanted to return his book back to him and she hadn't seen him for the day.

She took out her wand from her robe pocket and, after setting the map down, she tapped her wand down onto the map before whispering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Immediately, the map came to life, opening up and allowing her the secrets of the castle.

Her eyes swept across the page, attempting to find the hidden boy. Her eyes landed on Slughorn's office, taking note that the first dinner for the Slug Club would be held tonight. She was surprise when Hermione was approached by the professor around the third week at Hogwarts after acknowledging her surprising abilities in class. He had pulled both Harry and her aside and showed them both a list of Gryffindor students he intended to invite to the Slug Club. He did this, asking whether or not they had any further suggestions – students who had shown in the past five years their skills. Besides advising on inviting Ron, as loyal friends do, both Harry and Hermione shook their heads.

Hermione grimaced when she saw Cormac on the list but understood Slughorn's reasoning. McLaggen had family members who were highly influential in their careers at the Ministry of Magic. When Slughorn had shown the pair the list, Harry questioned why he had shown the two only the Gryffindor list. The old professor broke out into a rambunctious laugh, wiping away tears that had formed in the outer corners of his eyes.

"If I showed you the Slytherin list, you would advise me to disinvite the whole house!"

Hermione guessed he had a point.

Breaking away from her train of thought, Hermione brought herself back to looking for Malfoy on the map. After realizing it was taking a great deal of time, Hermione started to look around rooms that were usually off limits to students and there she saw his name.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

But what was he doing in the boathouse?

Well, she had to return his book to him whether he liked it or not – whether or not he wanted to run and hide. She was finished with having this burden in her room and on her mind, as if the book carried encoded messages about Malfoy's true, delicate intentions. As far as she was concerned, Malfoy was a blood-thirsty, remorseless, carnal creature who was charging right towards her, and she didn't want to have anymore reason to talk to him.

Once she handed this book over to him, his presence in her life would be over. He could no longer take up residence in her brain.

Making her decision, she tapped her wand on the map and quietly whispered a quick, "mischief managed." She placed the map back into her pillowcase, grabbed the book and was well on her way. She decided the best path to take would be the stairs that lead down from the entrance courtyard, so that's where she headed.

Nerves began at the pit of her stomach when she had reached more than halfway to her destination, only getting closer by the second. She didn't want a run-in with Malfoy to ruin her day like it had just under a month ago and needed to keep a clear mind for Slughorn's invading and intrusive questions that would surely be thrown at her all night. From as far as she could tell, she was the only muggle-born invited so far.

She got to the stairs and started her way down. The seed of nerves had grown into a bush, and her whole stomach felt queasy. This better not take too long, and he better not get angry at her for doing the polite thing and returning a book to him that he hadn't even asked for back.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she noticed the door stood ajar. She sucked in a breath to quiet her madly wild thoughts and took a step in.

Her breath caught in her throat when she realized what she saw to be true. There were so many things that made her mind race. She couldn't understand what had happened.

First, the entire boathouse had been altered. What once was an area for boats to dock was now a floored up space, allowing for furniture. The entrance to the lake had been closed off and in the middle of the room, there was a dark green couch – and as much as the transformation of this boathouse had appalled her, the figure that laid on the couch petrified her even more.

Malfoy was bruised with two black eyes and left over dried blood still stuck in his once pure blonde hair. He was naked, with only a dark blanket covering his torso and private area. A leg hung out from under the blanket that looked mangled, and if it weren't for his very shallow, almost unnoticeable breathing, Hermione would have thought that he was dead.

Her mind was racing and everything in her body was telling her to run, get out of there, now!

But she stayed still, watching the boy's chest lift slowly and fall.

There weren't many times in Hermione Granger's life where she was honestly, truly sorry for Draco Malfoy. He chose to lead a life very different than hers, and as much as she finds herself to be an open person about many people, she found it difficult to understand his predicament. He was an adult, raised with certain beliefs, but he had many chances to turn himself around and attempt to understand.

And that was it. He was too intolerant of her for Hermione to ever give him a chance.

But, then again, she had never seen him look like this. And, once again, she allowed her empathy to take over her and view him as a human. Not a monster like she so often referred to him in her mind. Not the school yard bully who had called her a mudblood for the very first time in front of the entirety of the Quidditch team.

Suddenly, he was just Malfoy. Stripped of his prejudices, stripped of what his parents had drilled into him from the start.

He was just Draco.

"Ms. Granger," She heard a deep voice from behind her and dropped the book, whipping around to come face-to-face with Professor Snape, "If you had any sense, which I know you do, you wouldn't be wandering around looking for trouble."

Hermione had been caught in enemy's territory, from what she knew about Snape, but she could only stand her ground. Her heart pounded in her chest and the curiosity of what happened to Draco got the better of her, pushing words out of her mouth that weren't supposed to be there.

"What did you do to him?" She asked, backing away from the professor. A sigh came from his mouth and his eyes rolled as he stepped into the boathouse.

"I don't have time for your incredulous accusations, Ms. Granger," The man angrily huffed, eyeing the much too curious girl, "So, if you'll step aside and leave now, you won't find yourself in a month's worth of detention, or expulsion for being in areas regularly off limits for students during the school year."

If Snape didn't do this, who did?

After a moment had passed and Hermione still stayed motionless, looking at Draco, Snape became angry.

"Granger, you've seen far too much already," Snape spoke sharply, his composure leaving him in a moment that Hermione never thought would happen during her lifetime, "Leave!"

Suddenly, a force pulled Hermione back towards the stairs just far enough for it to shut and lock in her face.

The image of Draco breathing, almost lifeless, never left her mind; even while she got ready for the Slug Club dinner. She hadn't told anyone about what she saw so far, but had planned to just before dinner with Harry.

She was already running late.

She hurried to put her shoes on and walked as quickly as she could to the destination. Tardiness was never becoming of her, and she had an appearance to uphold.

Just outside the door of his office, she gave her ran a hand through her hair to push it out of her face and clipped just that bit of curls in place. As much as her physical looks weren't something she tended to much, she at times liked to put in effort when appropriate. And tonight, she was supposed to look decent.

But she felt dreadful.

She opened the door and saw everyone sitting around, chatting a little. Dinner was not on the table and a seat was left specifically for her right next to Harry. Perfect.

She rushed to get out a quick hello to Slughorn and a modest thank you for inviting her to the first of, apparently, many dinners, and then walked over to take a seat beside Harry. She put her hand on his elbow to grab his attention and he looked over at the clearly bothered witch.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked, bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Yes, of course, Harry, I just need to tell you something," She whispered, letting him understand that this was something to be kept in between them. Harry nodded his head, leaning in closer.

"Dra-

"Ah, just in time, Mr. Malfoy!" And with that, Hermione's head snapped up to look at the door.

Draco, the boy she had seen less than four hours ago unconscious and bloody, was standing at the door in an all black outfit – hair slicked and no blood in sight.

What the hell?

And as soon as she locked eyes on him, he bore his silver-grey pair right back at her. His jaw tightened, eyes glaring bullets into her. She felt herself weaken in her seat.

"Hermione, what were you going to tell me?" Harry asked, awakening the girl from her trance. She looked back and her friend and desperately tried to come up with a way that he could be standing there, right now, looking absolutely fine if she had just seen him almost dead.

And Godric, there was absolutely nothing.

While it may have been easy to fix his sliced up and broken leg with a few brackium emendos here and there, Draco would need at least twenty-four hours of rest and potions and blood replenishing draught and truly intensive care for him to even be nearly as functional as he is now. Hermione knew Professor Snape was a brilliant man, but how brilliant could he really be?

Hermione shook her head at her friend and chewed at her bottom lip, "It really wasn't as important as I thought it was," She said, glancing back to Malfoy who had taken his seat in-between Cormac and Blaise, eyes still firmly focused on her, "I'll tell you another day."

As time ticked on and the dinner commenced, Hermione felt as if the room was closing in on her. Every time she was forced to look up from her plate to answer a question, there he was – eyes locked on her. And as if she had rope tightening around her, she struggled under the weight of his gaze.

Had Snape told him of her awareness?

"Well, Hermione is just the same," Professor Slughorn speaking her name brought her out of her thoughts and into the dreadful reality of the evening, "Working hard and incredibly bright, just like Lily. It seems as though there is a reoccurring trait that works its way into muggle-born witches. Lily was a wonderful student."

Hermione didn't understand who they were talking about until a light flicked on in her head and she remembered Harry talking about his mother, a long time ago. She looked to her best friend and grabbed his hand in a reassuring way under the table. He smiled at her.

"Yes, well," Cormac started, jealously glowering at Harry, "Hermione has proven herself in too many ways. She-

But her mind cut out of the conversation again. As soon as she glanced over to Cormac, she had deceived herself, and suddenly she was looking back at Malfoy again.

She didn't know how to explain her knowing about his location. What was she going to tell him?

As dinner finished and dessert was brought out, Professor Slughorn turned to Malfoy, questioning him as he did the rest of the group, "And Malfoy," he started. Malfoy's eyes finally left her face for a moment and she felt as if her chest finally had enough room for her lungs, "your father was quite a brilliant student himself; nearly top of the class in his days. Very similar, the two of you."

And though Slughorn had probably meant that as nothing less than a compliment, Draco felt his eyes glare at the table and his jaw clench.

"I guess so," Draco managed to get out, annoyed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione fidget in her seat then awkwardly stand up. All eyes in the room shot to her.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom for a moment," She pointed her thumb behind her, awkwardly announcing her leaving to the room. When she saw Harry look at her weirdly, she tended to her lack of manners, "to powder my nose. I'll be back, Slughorn."

And with another awkward gesture that seemed very unlike her, she hurried out of the room.

And Draco let her have her moment. He could have chosen to take it away, rush after her, corner her in the bathroom and demand to know what the damn book was doing in his place of refuge when he was knocked unconscious. And who had put it there.

But he decided patience is a virtue and he let her have her moment.

As she scurried away, he took a second to realize that, once again, time had suited her well. She had a clip in her hair that allowed people to view her face more easily beneath that mess of curls and she had put on a simple button up sweater that reminded him of knitting.

How bloody offbeat and contrasting could she be?

Hermione made her way to the sink and turned it on quickly. She didn't have much time. She didn't want to make it seem like she knows anything she shouldn't – though she probably already gave it away by acting like a bumbling idiot. Bollocks.

She splashed the cold water on her face, allowing her pores to close up and, with them, her sanity to regain. She didn't know how much longer she could stay in that room squirming all because of Malfoy.

So what if she had seen him? It wasn't her fault he was hurt when she went to drop off his bloody book! She was just trying to get him out of her life and look where that took her.

Shaking her head, she turned off the water, looked at herself once more in the mirror, and turned to walk out. She cleared her mind and walked back into the room gracefully. She couldn't let Draco ruin her day anymore than he already has.

But empathy is a tricky trait to tame. She knew she… Dare she think it, actually was worried about what had happened to her torturous antagonizer. And that angered her.

She sat back in her seat and tried her best to keep her mind away from Draco as she took bites out of the dessert.

Draco continued to glare at the girl. No matter how moderate she looked, she had been in his room, in his safe-house , doing Salazar knows what and seeing him in a pretty fucking weak state. And he was fucking furious. She wasn't allowed to just fucking come into his life when he had a task at hand and she was one of the victims. She needed to stay as far away from him as possible. It was too late for the room, she had already seen that, but he needed to get it across to her that she needed to leave him alone and never even look at him again.

Weasel's little sister walked into the room and do all Gryffindor's have to stand up tonight so bloody fucking awkwardly?

The evening came to a close and when Hermione realized Harry was going to stay after to have a talk with Slughorn it took everything she had not to just bolt right out of there. No matter how crudely McLaggen had looked at her all night, nothing compared to the vulgarity of Draco's stares. It had carried on almost throughout the entirety of this dinner party and she just wanted to avoid this confrontation, whatever it was. She wanted to go back to her dorm and never think about Draco in the state that she saw him in again. She didn't want to be affected by him or his presence any longer.

As everyone began saying their thank yous and goodbyes, gathering around to talk to the teacher, Hermione decided that being rude for once in your life couldn't be that harmful. While everyone was distracted, she dislodged herself from the group and snuck out the door. Feeling relief wash over her body, she started to head for the Grand Staircase until she felt a rough hand grab her upper arm and pull her in the way she was going.

"Hey!" Hermione looked at Draco unbelievingly, "What do you think you're doing?"

Draco never stopped or turned around, just continued to pull her by her arm and grunted, "You know exactly what I'm doing, Granger."

Hermione was appalled and annoyed that she couldn't actually struggle out of his grip. Though they often got into combat using their words as swords, they hadn't actually ever gotten into anything physical except for her punching him that one time. Looking at the teenager, he seemed as though he lacked enough strength to pull her along with such force.

"No, I don't, Malfoy!" Hermione yelped at him, actually in a bit of pain. They had gotten to the Grand Staircase and he was bringing her forcefully to a lower level, "Let me go!"

Draco, trying to hold his temper until he could get them somewhere away from prying eyes, just kept pulling until they stopped in front of the portrait of Percival Pratt.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped at him before she heard him mumble something under his breath. The painting opened up in front of there eyes and Malfoy grabbed her by the wrist to pull her through the tunnel.

They ended up back at the boathouse.

A secret passageway.

Suddenly, Malfoy shoved her hand away and glared at her.

"Why did you take me here?" Hermione questioned, pissed off with Malfoy as much as he was with her. Draco's voice suddenly filled the room, roaring out at a confused Hermione.

"It's not like you haven't been here before, you fucking nosy bitch!" Hermione backed away in disgust.

"It's not like I wanted to ever come back here! Why would I ever-

"So, you were here!" Draco yelled, pacing back and forth. Hadn't Snape told him?

"Yeah, I was here! Dropping off your book only to be cornered by your guardian angel!" Confusion flashed on Draco's face as he looked at the intrusive girl before he understood who she was referring to.

"Snape knew you were here?" He questioned, nostrils flaring and chest heaving. He was going to go fucking animalistic if things weren't explained to him soon. "Why didn't he fucking tell me?"

That was a weird confirmation for Hermione to hear.

"I don't know, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled at him, dropping her cool act, "I don't know but I want to finish this conversation and leave!" She headed towards the door, wanting to just get out. Draco stepped in front of her. "Malfoy, get out of my way or I'll-

"No, you won't!" He yelled at her making her back up in defense. He let his eyelids drop for a moment, willing himself to calm down. "No, you won't."

Hermione's mouth was closed, her brows creating wrinkles in her forehead as she watched Draco intensely. She had never spent this much time alone with the Malfoy heir and she found herself uncomfortable with how intimate the situation was. He had inched closer to her throughout the argument and she felt cornered. He was just… too close. Still, she patiently waited for his input, not wanting to cause more issues than there already was.

Draco opened his eyes. "I can't have you leave." Hermione's eyebrows shot up in disbelief and she scoffed.

"What, so you're just going to abduct me?" She asked, exasperated. Something dark flashed in Malfoy's eyes as he looked at her.

"Don't tempt me, Granger."

"Draco, this is ridiculous!" Shaking her head, Hermione whined again. Wow, that felt weird to say.

"I can't have you going to your friends and telling them about this place!" Draco shouted, motioning to the door in irritation.

"Malfoy, I won't tell them!"

"You promise?"

"I promise!" Hermione heard herself shout, as well. After a moment of Draco glaring at her, he turned away.

"How can I know you're telling the truth?" He asked a little more quietly, turning back to scowl at her. He looked just as cornered as she felt. Why does he have to look to human all of a sudden? He was literally threatening her, and, now of all times, he had to make her feel pity for her childhood bully? Hermione shook her head looking at him.

"I don't know, Malfoy. You're just going to have to trust me."

Draco scoffed. He had trusted Snape to be honest with him and look where he was. He had trusted his father and now he was working for the blimey fucking Dark Lord. What makes her any different?

"I don't know." He said, pacing around the room again. "I don't know."

Hermione huffed again, and walked over to the couch taking a seat in order to gain space away from Malfoy. She looked so out of place seated on his dark green sofa; it felt odd to him. That was his couch.

"Draco, I'm gonna need to go back to my dorm sooner-

"Stop calling me that!" Draco cut her off abruptly. Hermione glared at him.

"Fine, Malfoy," she corrected, "You're going to have to let me leave."

Draco's heart pounded. She was right – he was out of options, and unless he wanted to literally tie her up, she would have to go back.

And even if he did tie her up, she was clever enough to find a way of getting out of that situation – the clever little pest.

"Go." He let the word leave his mouth and regretted it the second it did. Hermione looked up at him tiredly.

A very tiny part of him almost wished she wouldn't.

His stomach knotted when he admitted that to himself. He had slept, showered, and spent all of his free time in this boathouse and he was very much alone. As much as he despised Granger, he was unsure of whether or not she would tell anyone. In a weird twist of events, fate had brought power into her hands after he spent the entirety of his childhood attempting to take it away from her. And now he was afraid of what that could mean. If she would just stay here, in this boathouse with him, she wouldn't be able to tell anyone his secrets, and he would have the power again.

He hated this feeling. He couldn't trust people, and he knew that was always a problem he had, but this… This was a new form of torture he had never endured.

She walked away and opened the door.

"Granger," she heard Malfoy call for a final time and she turned around to look at him. His pulse was in his throat as he watched her eye him for a final time. She was literally about to walk out of the door with his balls in her tight fist. He was nervous, and as much as he wanted to show her that she doesn't have the power in this situation, he was at her mercy. "We've got a deal?"

"I promise, Draco."

And in a flurry of brunette curls, she was gone.

A/N: I swear, if you guys don't review, I won't post another chapter. You evil little minxes.

NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:

Two reoccurring nightmares plagued his sleep. Two forms of torture.

The first, bodily. In his most recent nightmares, he had endured countless nights of torture. Nights of bloodcurdling screams filling the air, Bellatrix's spine-tingling laughs crawling into his ears, and looking down at his body to see himself disfigured beyond recognition. Half of the dream would be him holding eye contact with the Dark Lord himself, looking into his snake eyes and feeling petrified beyond belief.

The second? Nightmares that came in the form of Hermione Granger.

A new pair of eyes started to fill his dreams. Brown like chocolate, lashes that can do nothing but kiss – these eyes did all they could to seduce him into a world of safety. Of warmth. But they haunted him all the same.

Love always, Elle – the author of this story.