Neither of them saw it coming. Neither of them noticed a thing until Malfoy's cry of "Expelliarmus!" Caught off guard, their wands flew from their hands to Malfoy's. Turning around, they saw Malfoy point his wand at the door and say quickly "Colloportus," (there was then a small clicking sound) before turning back to them with a grin. "Hello," he said. "I've been waiting for this chance for a long time."

Ron let out a snarl and began to charge, but Malfoy pointed his wand at Hermione. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Ron stopped short.

"Malfoy?" Hermione said slowly. Her heart was beating like it had been the night with Crookshanks, fast and out of control. "What are you doing?"

Malfoy's grin widened. Suddenly he pointed his wand at Ron. With a flick, something emanated from it, something that pushed Ron into a chair. Another flick, and dark ropes snaked out, twining themselves around Ron, binding him tightly to the chair.

"M-malfoy…" Hermione said unsteadily, "Is this a joke? Malfoy, please, it's not funny anymore!" She looked around. Should she leave for help? Abandon Ron?

Draco Malfoy looked at her hungrily. "A joke? No. No, it's not a joke. But it is going to be exceedingly funny." He looked at Ron, struggling madly against the ropes. "For me, it is."

Making her decision, Hermione made a dash for the door. She seized the handle and pulled—but it was locked. The last feeling she felt was panic. Then she heard the lazy voice behind her say "Imperio!" and all emotions were gone.

All feeling was gone, all emotion. She felt only bliss. From far away a voice said Come here, and she obeyed happily. This was the voice that had given her the bliss: of that she was certain. A muffled voice said "No, 'Mione!" but she took no notice.

Take off your robes, she heard, and obeyed without question. She began to fold her robes, but they were snatched away and tossed to the floor. Inwardly she frowned, then shivered. Standing here in just her underthings, she was chilly.

Unclasp and take off your bra, she heard. The muffled voice—actually, it wasn't so muffled—snarled "You bastard, what are you doing with her?" and she wondered what it meant. She obeyed, again without question.

Yessss…Now your underwear.

A new voice came. Her voice. No, it said. No. It's cold and I don't want anyone to see me like that.

TAKE IT OFF! shouted the voice that had brought her bliss. Frightened, her hands wavered toward her panties. She didn't want to, yet she had to. She was just giving in when the muffled voice spoke, except that it was barely muffled at all, now. "Yes, Hermione," it said urgently. "Fight! You don't want this!"

The other voice snapped, annoyed as if it had sensed her about to give in before these last words, Don't listen to him. Obey me! NOW!

"No!" she shouted, and the bliss was gone. There was Ron, bound hand and foot to a chair, his eyes pleading. She stood at the side of the desk, her arms wrapped around herself. The light was unbearably bright.

Livid with rage was Malfoy, staring at her with a mixture of fury, disbelief, and hunger. "Well," he whispered, "If that's the way you'd prefer it." He strode over to Hermione and grabbed her wrist, nails digging in painfully enough to make her whimper. Then he lpulled and dragged her to the desk, where he slammed her down on her back.

Hermione panicked. She knew now, knew what he wanted and knew she could not just let him take it. With a shriek her hands came up, fingers like claws to scratch at his eyes, his arms, his face, any part of him she could reach.

She got in a few good scratches and was actually scrambling off the desk when she heard him draw his wand again. Let him do his worst, she thought wildly. I will not lie down and just let him take me. Crawling to the door, she winced when she heard his intake of breath and braced herself for what was to come—but it was not what she had thought it would be.

"Crucio!" Malfoy spat, and she waited for the pain…but there was no pain. Not for her. Instead, Ron let out a piercing scream and struggled wildly against his ropes, convulsing in pain.

She could not know it, but it is certain that if Ron had not been there, Hermione would have continued to fight, and Draco Malfoy would have killed her. But Ron…Ron was in agony and she was the cause. She could take whatever Malfoy did, but she couldn't ask others to endure agony for her sake. With a sob she threw herself at the suffering Ron, shielding him with her body. "Stop!" she cried. "I'll do what you want, just stop hurting him!"

Malfoy lowered his wand and smiled a wolfish smile. He looked her up and down, ignoring the still-convulsing Ron, and bared his teeth. "Come here," he said for the second time, and she shivered. Merlin, how she shivered.

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Harry finally managed to get a good grip on Crookshanks, underneath his forelegs, and hold him at arm's length. "I swear," he said furiously, "One more stunt like that and I'll feed you to the squid." Some students laughed—he was talking to a cat!—but he took no notice. Crookshanks seemed to understand more than most cats.

Wait. Crookshanks did seem to understand more than most cats. Was it possible that there was a reason for his wild behavior? As Crookshanks gave another swipe, Harry thought about the time so recently when Crookshanks had been acting this way before. Crookshanks had run straight to Malfoy, and, as gossip soon revealed, Malfoy had at the time been going to go beat up a couple of fifth-years who had offended him. Friends of Ginny's.

This thought had just occurred to him when Crookshanks finally wriggled out of his grasp and bounded over to the back of the portrait, where he began scratching.

It was either stop Crookshanks or let him out and see what would happen. It was likely nothing was happening, but wouldn't it be better to make sure? Harry remembered his godfather's words: This cat is the smartest of his kind I've ever seen… and made his decision.

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It was like a scene from his worst nightmares. Malfoy had again thrown Hermione onto the desk, spellotaped her arms down to it so that her hands were above her head. She was defenseless against him.

And so was Ron. Ron, still panting from the Cruciatus Curse Malfoy had used so viciously on him, had never felt so helpless. Hermione, who was closer to him than anyone except Harry, was about to be violated in the worst way possible, and he could not figure out how to stop it. Magical ropes were nearly impossible to break, and he was bound very tightly. He had tried to break free. Oh, how he had tried. But he could not do it.

It was because of him Hermione was going to be raped. If he hadn't been there for the Cruciatus Curse to be put on him, she wouldn't have had to give in. Desperately he ran away from this line of thinking. It was all Malfoy. He would get out of these ropes eventually, or someone would find them, and when that happened, he was going to kill Malfoy.

The sound of ripping fabric brought him back mercilessly to reality; he looked up just in time to see Hermione's underwear fall to the floor. His chair was positioned so that he had a side view of what was happening, and what was happening at that moment was Malfoy hastily removing his clothes. His hands! They were all over her body, rubbing and caressing and probing. Then Malfoy positioned himself between her legs. Ron let his head drop—he could not watch this.

The next thing he heard nearly destroyed him. It was Hermione, letting loose a frantic cry of unimaginable pain.

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Crookshanks, who until that point had been unwavering in his sprint through the school, stopped short to let out a howl of fury and hurt. Harry seized the opportunity to catch his breath—running after a mad cat down endless corridors and five flights of stairs did not leave one exactly fresh.

"What is it, Crookshanks?" he begged. "Where the bloody hell are we g—?" But at that moment Crookshanks ceased his howling and again took off like a shot, going, if this was possible, even faster than before; Harry had never thought such small animals could go such great distances in a single bound or turn with such precision. Silently thanking his stamina built up from many years of running away from Dudley and his gang, Harry resumed the chase.

There really wasn't that much farther Crookshanks could go, since he seemed to be taking a direct route to whatever it was. Unless, Harry thought with considerable worry as he ran down yet another flight of stairs to the first floor, they were going out onto the grounds.

Crookshanks ran straight to one of the last places Harry would have thought of: the old, unused Classroom Eleven—and stopped.

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A slap landed hard on her face. "You little bitch!" Malfoy snarled. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

"Please," she whispered. "P-please stop."

He laughed and pulled himself out of her. "You want me to stop? Very well. I'll stop, and begin again with him." Without further warning, he pointed his wand at Ron and again said "Crucio!"

"No!" Hermione cried as Ron's body was wracked with tremors. She just couldn't let Ron be tortured like that. "No, not him, I'm sorry, I'll be quiet!"

Malfoy lowered his wand and smiled his wolf smile. "That's better, Hermione." He stroked her side before spreading her legs.

The second time he entered her was even rougher than the first, and though she tried to suppress every sound, still a whimper or a gasp escaped her lips with his every thrust.

Bitterly she wondered how she had become so weak. Always, she had thought she was strong, and yet here she was, submitting meekly to her rapist after begging for mercy.

At least she could stop herself from crying. Tears of pain threatened to form, and she pushed them back. She would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Never.

She realized he was making some noise and looked at him to see what it was. It was a moan of pleasure. He saw her looking and grinned, then reached over to caress her body some more.

Hoping for at least some respite, however minor, she turned her gaze to Ron. His face was turned away from her. Ron was suffering, too. He was still white from the Cruciatus Curse Malfoy had used on him, still shaking from the pain her scream had caused him. And now he would not look at her.

This was all her fault. If she had let Harry and Ron take care of Malfoy after Crookshanks, if she had fought harder, if she hadn't been so gullible, none of them would be here. All these thoughts came to her in the space of the moment, with the last realization coming to her like a slap in the face.

"Are you enjoying this, Hermione?" Malfoy taunted. "Look at me. You love this, don't you?"

With a last glance at Ron, she turned her gaze back on Malfoy and, hating herself, nodded.

Then she closed her eyes and wished for death.