A/N: Thanks for reading. And while you're here, I'm going to do a bit of shameless advertising. I just put up my latest story, called Speak to Me. It's a Sirius-OC romance. Even if that's not your thing, please do check it out and leave a review! (smiles)

.::Chapter 9 – Revealed::.

Hermione couldn't sleep. This night had been an especially restless one. Strange memories had begun to flood in, ones she couldn't explain. In many of them she had been fighting with Draco. At first she thought it was back when she had been going through "problems", like Draco said. But then she began to noticed that in her memories, it was not she who was hurting Draco, but it was Draco who was hitting her, kicking her, slamming her into walls and slapping her.

She slipped out of bed, freezing for one moment as the sleeping form of Draco seemed to move slightly to the left. She didn't move, her eyes pinned on him. Seconds passed, and he didn't move again. Hermione let out a soft breath and moved on. He hadn't done anything to hurt her, except in her memories, but he was always so controlling, and didn't always answer her questions about things.

She slid out the door and into the moonlight streaming from the tall window opposite her. The hall was cold, and she wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to warm herself. A mirror sat at the end of the hall, and she caught her reflection in it. Her hair was long and messy, curling around her shoulders, and her eyes were tired. She wondered what had happened to her to make her look like this. Suddenly she looked to her left and saw an open door leading into another dark bedroom. Something drew her to it.

Stepping in, she noticed right away that glass was on the floor. The room also looked strangely familiar. Walking to a wall, she noticed something carved into it lightly. Leaning closer, she caught the words "help! Draco kidnapped me!"

She cried out as the painful memories hit her, blinding her.

"What do I want? What do I want? What I want is to take you away from Harry. I want him to feel like I did when he murdered my father. I want him to feel the pain of having a loved one gone forever."

It was Draco's voice speaking to her from her dreams. And suddenly she remembered who she was. Where she was. What was happening. She felt cold arms slip around her. Smothering her. She screamed.

"Hermione," she Draco's voice, "what's wrong?"

"Ron!" she screamed, wriggling from Draco's grasp and running out the door. She felt the cool air hit her as she flew into the hall. Draco followed after her. "Harry?" he called after her. "That thief? He tried to kill you. Don't be silly." Hermione kept on running down the moonlight hall and threw open the doors in front of her, letting the cool air hit her and the rain splash down onto her skin. She tripped through the muddy ground, her tears mixed with the cold rain on her face. She wasn't going to let Draco win again.

She turned and saw Draco standing behind her. She choked back a sob. "Just let me go, Draco!" she cried. "I just want to find Ron. I'm so sick of your stupid lies and everything you've done to me!"

Draco froze mid-sentence. His kind features twisted into a look of disgust, but he didn't say anything. Hermione walked backwards, afraid to take her eyes off of him, and finally turned around and broke into a run.

"I wouldn't leave if I were you," Draco said simply.

Hermione, despite her desire to keep running, to escape from this hell, felt a strong tug stopping her from moving on any further. She hesitantly stopped herself and turned. "What the hell do you want?" she said in a low voice, so soft it was barely audible above the quite rumble of thunder in the distance.

Draco smirked triumphantly. "I thought you might listen, Hermione." She sneered back at him. He continued. "Potter is in a very dangerous predicament, as you might have noticed. The Ministry quickly forgets things; and they have quickly forgotten what Harry did several years ago for them by destroying the Dark Lord. I have connections in the Ministry who can lock your dear Harry up for longer than you can imagine."

"No…" Hermione let the words escape her shaking lips before she could stop them. Draco raised his eyebrows.

"That is, unless you cooperate with me. Then, perhaps, Harry might not be sent to Azkaban for that long." Hermione put a hand to her head, feeling trapped. Could she even believe Draco? She knew he had connections, like his father, that much was for sure, but was this worth believing? Draco was most certainly not above lying to get what he wanted – and what he wanted was Hermione.

She took a unsteady step toward him. "So what do you want me to do?" she said weakly, the fight sapping from her body quickly and leaving her cold and helpless. Draco smirked – a smirk, that for a short time, Hermione had found incredibly sexy, even though she would never admit it to herself – but now all it looked was evil, ruthless, and cold.

"It's simple," he crooned, taking her unwilling form into his arms in a gesture of mock-kindness. "All you have to do is stay with me and do what I tell you to do, and I'll make sure Potter dearest never goes to Azkaban, as long as he doesn't interfere." Hermione pulled away from Draco.

"And…and when he is freed, what will I tell him if he comes looking for me?" she whispered, half-afraid to hear the answer. Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Well, what do you think?" he laughed. "The truth. That you love me, and you want to live here with me, forever."

Hermione's eyes widened in fear and she felt a cold tear trickle down her cheek. "But I don't love you. I love Ron!" Draco's eyes flashed for a quick moment, but then he calmed down, observing Hermione with his deep gray eyes.

"Of course you do," he said, sliding his hand onto her lower back and pulling her to him. He reached forward and softly brushed a wave of curly hair from her smooth cheek, cupping it gently as he drew closer to her. His lips closed over hers, sending jolts up and down Hermione's spine. But she no longer felt attraction, only horror toward this monster she was doomed to live with for the rest of her life, or at least, until he grew tired of her.