A/N: I know it took a while, but I listened, and I wrote the Draco Version of this one-shot. It's unbeta'd for the moment, but hopefully there are not any glaring typos. I hope you like it, let me know what you think. :)


The Contract Sacrifice (Draco's POV)

Wizarding England was absolutely fucked. Though he'd joined the Death Eaters - not that he had much choice in the matter - Draco Malfoy had always assumed Potter would win the war. He was Harry fucking Potter. His entire life was about winning, getting the most House points, and generally annoying Draco to death. There had been no other option, as far as Draco was concerned. He only hoped, when the dust cleared, he could get off with a mild sentence for having not really committed any crimes other than associating with the wrong people.

But it didn't happen just like that. Sure, Potter killed the Dark Lord. For that he was extremely grateful. But the Dark Lord took nearly everything from Potter too, the man had barely clung to life for months until he finally pulled through, but was little more than a squib. At that point, the damage had already been done.

The Death Eater elite were nothing if not pragmatic and manipulative. In a matter of days they'd taken down the Ministry and rebuilt it in their own image, sacrificing the lesser of their brothers and sisters as the 'real' Death Eaters while claiming they were merely victims of the Dark Lord's far reaching Imperious Curse. Draco could not believe it worked. Too many people knew the truth. Too many people had seen enough war that it couldn't possibly be believed that the likes of Lucius Malfoy, The LeStranges, The Rookwoods, were not vicious killers who hated anything not pure or rich.

But what people thought did not seem to matter. They took control and once they had control, they never planned to lose it. The people of Wizarding England were mostly cowards, weren't they? Look how far they let that tosser Cornelius Fudge lead them astray simply because they wanted to believe everything was okay. So, when the new Ministry started limiting 'Mudblood Rights' in the name of keeping the peace - it was their existence that caused the war in the first place, was it not? - people said nothing. Only the Goblins told the Ministry to 'fuck off', which they had the power to do, as they held the bulk of the wealth.

And thus, the Order went into hiding again, and Muggleborns mostly left the Wizarding World. All but the stubborn few, Hermione Granger included. He shook his head as he thought of her. She was a target for the Ministry. They hated her. His father had been unnaturally obsessed with the girl since the end of the war. He had no idea why, but he feared what would come of her if he got his hands on her. The man was sick. That much he knew.

But Draco knew Granger well enough to know that a warning wouldn't do any good. She was not only incredibly stubborn, but clung to righteous indignation with an iron grip. How could she not see what was coming? How could she not know that all of her friends were destined for Azkaban, one way or another. Better for the entire Order to flee the country and find greener pastures. The Death Eaters would have Wizarding England ruined in less that ten years, guaranteed. He sure as hell wished he could get out, but doubted Lucius would ever stop searching if he tried to run. Instead, he worked his job at Malfoy Industries and tried to ignore the outside world. It was too depressing to even try to fix.


"I'm bringing someone home this evening," Lucius said, nonchalantly at dinner.

"Okay," Draco said, wondering which Knockturn Alley whore his father would be entertaining after dinner.

"She'll be living here for the foreseeable future," Lucius continued.

Draco had to admit, that bit of information shocked him. "Who is she?" he asked, assuming his father may have finally gotten sick of the bachelor's life in the wake of his mother's death.

"That Mudblood Granger," Lucius said, as if he were discussing the weather. "I've acquired her for my own purposes. Nothing to bother yourself over. She'll be moving into your mother's seasonal closet."

"Wh-what?" Draco asked, scratching his head inelegantly as he tried to concentrate on what his father had just said.

Lucius sighed impatiently. "I wish to possess Potter's mudblood. I have gotten her to agree to bind herself to me. She'll be living here now. It's not a complicated notion. You needn't bother yourself. You'll barely know she's here."

Draco's eyes widened. There was only one reason his father would bind Granger to him. The man's obsession must have run deeper than even he imagined. The poor girl had no idea what she'd gotten herself into.

Quickly finishing his dinner, Draco excused himself and went to his room. This was too much. She couldn't come here, not to be tortured by his father. And it was only too clear what Lucius had in mind for her. Didn't she know that death would be preferable to the fate awaiting her? How could she be so stupid?

Draco had long since stopped pretending he didn't care what happened to her. He had no idea why, but she was important to him. When he saw her suffer on his own drawing room floor all those years ago, it had broken something inside him. She was bright, intelligent, a light to the world, and she would be burnt out the minute she stepped foot in Malfoy Manor. The thought hurt his chest.

But what could he do? He had no say. He had no control. He wasn't even listened to at his own company. He was always just that Malfoy boy who failed to do anything productive during the war. Merlin, he wished he didn't still have to live at the Manor. How could he possibly watch her pain every single day?


Seeing her was so much worse than he imagined. She was thinner than he last remembered. Still hauntingly beautiful with bright eyes, but the light there was dimming. Never, since her first night at the Manor, did he see her without some sort of discoloration on her face. Along with fucking her, his father was getting his kicks from beating her as well. He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised. The man was sick as they come.

The first time he walked past his father's chambers and heard her agonizing cries of pain and knew what his father was doing to her, he had been sick. He never had a taste for violence, but knowing that the girl he grew up with was his father's personal fuck toy was too much. She was so...Hermione. There was no real word for her. She was special, and as much as he'd have hated admitting it, he even knew what in school. Why the hell did she agree to this?

Slowly but surely his father was breaking her down and he couldn't stand to watch. He saw the way she looked at him. She was embarrassed, annoyed at his presence. He couldn't really blame her, but if he couldn't save her from her fate, he'd at least stay by to make sure his father never went too far. It was all he could do, some days, not to beat the man into a bloody pulp, demanding just who he thought he was to treat a human being this way.

Shaking his head, Draco left the room where Hermione was trying her best to ignore him and went back to his study. Fuck, he hated this whole damned world.


He wouldn't call it insomnia, exactly. His lack of sleep was entirely self-inflicted. He'd taken it upon himself to stay up until Hermione was safely in her room before going to bed. Some nights that was later than others. The look of her as she hobbled back to her room always made him wince. His father must not have prepared her at all for his violent trysts.

Draco couldn't understand it. Wouldn't it be much more satisfying if Granger could enjoy it too? There was nothing remotely attractive about a woman screaming in agony, he didn't think. Add it to the list of things that made Lucius Malfoy worse than the Dark Lord himself.

Still, Draco felt guilt over not helping Hermione in her desperate state, and insuring her safely back to her room, even if she had no idea he was following was the least he could do. So, often he sat in the kitchen in the dark of night waiting for her to pass by on her way to the tiny closet that was her 'home' now.

A shuffling of feet into the kitchen tore him from his thoughts as he watched a shadow enter the room. It could only be one person. She was tiny and made even smaller by her recent inclination to hunch into herself, trying to hide as much of herself as possible. His eyes adjusted more quickly than hers as he'd been sitting in the dark for almost an hour, stirring his hot cocoa, but not drinking it.

He couldn't see her well. Not until she opened the ice box and the light shown on her face. It was all he could do not to gasp at the sight of her. A dark bruise was forming around her jaw and she had various red handprints across her face. His blood boiled. He watched as she sniffled to herself and tried making an icepack. He knew that wouldn't work. It might keep the swelling down, but that's the best it would do. The pain would continue for many days.

"You'd be better off using a paste," he muttered at her, watching as she jumped nearly ten feet in the air and dropped all the ice onto the kitchen floor. Having been found out, he used his wand to turn on the lights of the kitchen. Her face looked worse in the light than it had in the dark and he felt his heart pound with rage at his father. Who could do this to someone, let alone someone who was utterly defenseless?

"Malfoy!" she cried, her voice shrill as she tried to get her heart working again. "I didn't know. I mean, I thought I was..."

"Alone. I know," Draco said, trying not to draw too much attention to the fact that he'd just noticed what she was wearing. Usually his father kept her in very simple and drab frocks. This, however, was something else entirely. He noticed her quickly cover her chest, though he'd already seen everything. The transparent negligee left little to the imagination. As much as he would have loved to see her in such an ensemble for his own enjoyment, it didn't do anything for him like this. Not when he looked at her face and saw his father's handprints all over it, her eyes showing her utter mortification while her arms worked hard to maintain the last shreds of her modesty.

"Ice won't work well," he explained, trying to cut the tension. "You should use a paste."

"I'm fresh out of my supply of magical remedies," she snapped back at him, her cheeks flaming with irritation, and he saw that spark again, even if it was fleeting. He almost smiled.

"I have some," he offered, and before she could say anything he sent Trindy, his personal elf, to fetch the healing paste he had in his bathroom. When she returned he quietly thanked her and sent her back on her way. "Come," he said, turning back to Hermione as she stood there, awkwardly staring at him.

He saw her hesitate, mistrust clear in her eyes. She was wondering what his motivation was. He couldn't say he blamed her. He'd given her no reason to trust him, but it didn't hurt any less when she bit out her next sentence. "I'm not your slave too," she said, her words cutting through him. To compare him to him was enough to make him shiver.

Still, he could do nothing about her perception of him. All he could do was try to keep her in one piece. "I'm not going to hurt you, Granger," he promised as he moved off his stool and came toward her. I'm just going to apply the paste. It's the least I can do."

"Least you can..." she muttered to herself and the confused look on her face made him sigh to himself. Did she really think he was so heartless?

"Thank you," he said, barely loud enough for her to hear. He dipped his fingers in the paste and moved in closer, until they were almost touching, her arms against his chest as she continued to try and hide her chest from him. She felt chilled and was shaking just slightly, but he tried to ignore it as her noticed her breath catch when his slick fingers made contact with the bruise forming on her jaw.

He wondered if she knew that she instinctually leaned into him as the relief hit her, or if she knew her breath quickened. He certainly did. He noticed everything about her now. His fingers worked quickly but gently as he made sure he covered every injury, stepping back slightly to admire his work.

"There," he said, finally, rubbing the remaining paste off on the dishtowel Hermione had dropped upon the floor. "It will be as good as new by morning."

When she opened her eyes, he saw a million questions, and his lips quirked slightly at the familiar expression on her face. "Why did you do this?" she finally asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"How could I not?" he said simply. Only a true barbarian could watch a woman be treated this way and do nothing.


Rage. Rage and utter disgust. That was all he could feel as he watched his father drive in and out of her, her small body stretched beyond it's limit into the position he had her forced into. He felt the bile rise in his throat, unable to shift his eyes from hers.

She was staring at him in horror, tears collecting in her eyes as she realized that her shame was now public - at least to him. Didn't she know he knew already? Didn't she know this was torture for him as well?

His fucking father. Merlin, he hated that man. He'd planned this. Lucius had already read him the riot act for healing Hermione's wounds, but Draco simply reminded him, 'I'm not your slave' and walked out of the room. This was punishment. Fuck, it hurt to watch.

Even as he desired Hermione, he couldn't possibly take any pleasure in seeing her naked body in this light. It was wrong, disgusting, and vile. This wasn't sex, this was a rape.

"Need something, Draco?" his father grunted as she slammed into her from behind, the sickening sound of her holding back her cries sending shivers down Draco's spine.

He never wanted to kill anyone as much as he wanted to kill Lucius Malfoy in this moment. "You are sick," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally pulled his eyes away from both of them. He heard her whimper and his father's thrusts increase, and he was sure he'd vomit all over the carpet.

"You are weak," hid father grunted, and Draco couldn't deny that. He was weak because he couldn't save her. He couldn't do what needed to be done. It made him hate himself almost as much as he hated his father.

He looked at her once more, swallowing hard as he tried to control the urge to hex his father, and swept out of the room. Hermione's haunting expression burned in his brain.


He felt conflicted. Part of him wanted to spend every moment with her, protecting her, and making her feel life was worth living. This part wanted to take her away from Lucius and save her from this life of misery. But part of him knew he could do nothing. The only way out of this was his father's death. He hadn't been able to kill when he needed to before. He felt fairly certain he couldn't now. Though he wanted to, so badly.

He felt ineffectual, and it pissed him off royally. If he could protect her, what was the point of caring. Still, he cared. At times, he even turned his rage on her. Internally only, of course. But why had she come here? What possible reason could she have to have chosen this fate over whatever other alternative Lucius had given her? He had to know.

That's how he found himself outside her door, knowing she was in there, wondering what shape he'd find her in. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He heard her shuffling for a moment before the knob turned and the door swung open.

"Malfoy," she breathed, her voice shocked. He'd seen and talked to her briefly many times, but he'd never approached her room. The shock on her face showed him that she never thought he would.

She stared at him awkwardly for a moment, her cheeks flushing and he noticed that, this one time, it looked unmarred by bruises or red marks. "Can I come in?" he asked, feeling a little awkward himself. He still had no idea what she thought of him or if she blamed him for the state she found herself in. He did watch it all and did nothing, after all.

"Ummm, yeah," she said, moving from the door and motioning for him to come inside. When he saw her wince with the movement he inwardly cursed. So, his father hadn't hit her in the face. That didn't mean he didn't beat her anyway. Sick fuck.

He shook the thought from his head and looked around the tiny room. It was cramped, for sure. He was surprised that as much furniture as she had fit there. "There isn't much room to..." she started, as if reading his mind.

He shook his head. "I know," he said, clearing his throat. "It was never meant to be a bedroom.," he explained.

"What was it before I got here?" Hermione asked him.

"Mother's second closet for out of season robes," he said with a a sigh. "She had so many." In fact, his mother had an endless supply of anything she wanted - Well, except his father's love. But she was a proper pureblood wife. She knew love was not part of the equation. It made her cold, but she did love her son, and Draco missed her quite a lot. If she could see what had become of her closet now...

"What did you want?" Hermione asked, pulling him from his own thoughts. Thinking about his mother only made him sad anyway. She wasn't perfect, but she was a far cry from his father.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just..." He couldn't put into words what he wanted to ask her - what he needed to know.

"Just what, Draco?" she asked, and the use of his first name jolted him back to reality.

"Why did you come here?" he finally asked, meeting her eyes, looking for some sort of explanation. She was haunting his days and nights. He had to know why she chose this hell over any other option.

"I wasn't given a choice," she snapped, her tone hostile as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Still, he knew there was more to it than that.

"You didn't have to come. Lucius always gives a choice," he pointed out. And it was true. His father enjoyed when someone chose his way, even if it wasn't much of a choice.

"Oh yes," Hermione said with a roll of they eyes. "I could have rotted in Azkaban." She shook her head dismissively as she leaned against the wall across from where he was standing. She had her fire back again. That fire he missed. That fire that he could only draw out of her at just the right moment. That fire he relished.

"Wouldn't that have been better than his?" he asked. He could see it in her eyes everyday. She'd have rather been dead than here.

"It would have," she admitted, her voice small. "But it wouldn't have saved Harry, or Ron, or the Weasleys, or Kingsley, or any of the others."

The thought angered him. All of this because of her fucking bleeding heart. All this torture to save a lot of people who probably didn't even bother to look for her when she left. It made him sick. "He knew what card to play," he spat, more angry at his father than anyone. "He knew he could get you to agree to anything if he threatened your precious Potter." He didn't care if he sounded petulant. They didn't have to see her pain. They didn't have to witness her torture. They didn't have her screams etched in their brains. As far as they were concerned she was fine. He hated it.

"What the hell do you care?" she asked, clearly irritated with him. He looked at her long and hard.

"Why do I care?" he asked. Was she really this thick, or did she simply think him as evil as his father? "Are you the smartest witch of our age? How could not care? He beats you and he rapes you," he almost choked over the words as the images of her in pain flashed before his eyes. "And I'm here to see it all. He will kill you when he's done. Don't you see that? He wants to possess you, and when he's done, he'll get rid of you." He didn't know when or how, but he knew Hermione wouldn't have long to live in that house. Merlin he wished she'd never come.

He saw her mouth drop open as her breath caught at his words and he watched as the realization washed over her. "I had assumed..." she muttered, clearly shocked that he'd said what she'd been thinking for a long time now, out loud. Then she squared her shoulders and pasted on that stubborn resolve he used to love so much. "Still, its the decision I made. I had no real choice. I have to believe we can live in a world of liberty and democracy. If all the opponents of the Death Eaters are gone, who will stand up and fight?"

He sighed at that. Still, after everything, she held her same narrow view of the world. "Not all that oppose the Death Eaters are in your precious Order, you know," he said before he could help himself. He really hadn't intended for this to turn into a fight. Then again, this was the Malfoy/Granger show. How could it not?

"Yes," she snapped back, her fire back in full force. "And they've done a very good job of hiding their heads in the sand while Voldemort's followers took over, haven't they?" she raised an accusing eyebrow at him, but it wasn't as if he could counter her point. It was true, after all. No one in this society had a backbone but the Order. Or so it seemed.

"Besides," she continued, "you are a Death Eater, are you not?"

"Yes. I was a Death Eater," he clarified. There was, of course, no use denying it.

"Then what is the point of this conversation?" she asked, sighing in frustration.

"I said I was a Death Eater," Draco stressed. The minute the Dark Lord was gone, he cut all ties with those people with the exception of his father whom he had no control over.

"And now you are not?" she said, her tone skeptical.

"Correct," he answered simply, letting her marinate on that for a second. How they'd gotten into this line of discussion he couldn't even remember.

"And you want to fix the world," she continued.

"No," he said scoffing at the very idea. "This would is fucked. I only want enough to forget where I came from," he said. And save you, he added silently.

"We can never forget where we came from. Or where we are. I am no one. I am a shell of a person. I was Hermione Granger - a War Heroine turned Public Enemy Number one. I was a Muggle-born witch who was the smartest witch of her age. Now I'm a rag doll your father likes to come inside." He winced at her harsh tone and words, but nothing she said was technically untrue. He hated this world most, probably for this fact. The most decent human being he'd ever met had been reduced to a fuck doll. Everything about her relegated to nothingness as his father used and abused her.

"When he's done with me, I'll be dead. A tiny footnote in history. Probably mocked for my naivete." She was so certain it gave Draco shivers as he considered that, perhaps, she was already dead. Her body was here, but where was Hermione? No, she was still there. He saw her, when he pushed the right buttons, she came back.

"You've given up," he observed, his tone clearly reflecting his disappointment.

"What can I do?" she shot back. "He owns me. I'm not a person anymore. You might as well snap your fingers and summon me like a house-elf."

He sighed. There was truth in what she said, but no matter how much he saw that, he couldn't make himself believe this was the only option. "I can't watch him do this to you anymore," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

He saw her consider him for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration as he used to remember it doing so many times in their youth. "You never answered my question. Why?" she asked, her voice soft but firm as she watched him closely.

"Do you really think me cruel enough not to care?" he asked, feeling a pain in his chest at the thought. Had he really been that bad?

"I have so few experiences to the contrary," she pointed out.

"Too true," he readily agreed. "My fault, of course. It took so much death to get me to realize..." he stopped himself, having no idea how to explain what he'd learned over the course of the war without bleeding his heart all over her. It was not an attractive thought, nor did he think it would be welcomed in her current state.

"Realize what?" she pushed. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. She had a right to know, didn't she? She was an integral part of his change of heart.

"The truth, Hermione," he finally said, relishing the feeling of her first name, once forbidden, rolling off his tongue. "You learned it so long ago. Money buys things but it means nothing. Power bends people to your will, but what do you get? Fear is a motivator, but it is not as strong as love." It had taken years of death and destruction for him to learn the message that Dumbledore tried so hard to beat into their heads. It wasn't until the girl in front of him was lying bleeding on his floor that it all came together. By then, it was far too late.

Hermione face turned into a rueful half smile. "All of that is true, and yet, it means nothing," she said.

Draco shook his head. No. She had to believe. If she stopped believing, how could anyone hold hope. "It means everything, Hermione," he said, looking her directly in the eyes.

"You've only made me feel worse." Her voice was filled with emotion, and it took all his strength not to reach out to her. "It's hard enough taking this pain and abuse from your father, but knowing there is someone in the house who cares but will do nothing makes me feel worse."

He swallowed hard. "That was not my intention," he replied. Though, he understood what she meant. Maybe it would have been better for him to stay out of her life. But then, his father might have accidentally killed her long ago if he had.

"I know," she said quietly, her eyes downcast. Looking at her, so vulnerable and sad, the words just fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I don't want him to touch you. I can't stand it." He visibly shivered before her.

"Because you had an epiphany about morals?" she asked, looking up at him.

He swallowed hard, knowing it was better to leave it alone, but unable to lie to her. "Because you deserve so much more." He saw her eyes widen with shock and knew he had to get out of there. He'd said too much - revealed too much of himself and his feelings. Best to get out of there before he said something worse.

"Draco..." she started, her voice wrapping around his name making him want to crawl into bed with her and hold her close. But he knew that was not possible.

"I should go," he said, moving toward the door. He didn't even look back when she called his name. He'd said too much already.


Regardless of how quickly he fled the room that day, Draco never stopped doing his best to protect Hermione. Now that they understood each other better, he didn't hide, but actively sought her out after each of his father's 'summons'.

He healed her wounds and let her cry. He told her everything would be alright even though he knew it wouldn't. There was only one option. His father had to die, but he hadn't the stomach to do it. What a coward he was. Oh, how he hated himself for it.

An entire year he watched her abuse, stitching her together more times than he cared to count, and falling in love with her more every day. How could he stand to watch this any longer? As she lay in his arms trembling with her sobs, he could do nothing but hold her tight and reassure her. He kept telling her it would be okay, but it was a toxic lie he fed both of them. It would not be okay. Not until his father was dead.

"And my fucking teeth," she moaned, and he sighed. He could have killed his younger self for sharing that particular story with his father in fourth year. He didn't give a damn about her damn teeth. They could easily be fixed, and even if not, she was still beautiful, but he knew how self-conscious she was about them. The fact that he instilled that in her just made everything worse.

He calmed her down, explaining to her what he'd known for over a year. His father was obsessed with her, but he hated himself for it. Instead of turning that hate inward like Draco had always done, he turned it on her, punishing her for being attractive and intriguing. Slowly, the old bastard was killing her.

"Come," he finally said, when he had her calm enough to stop crying. Leading her into the bathroom he instructed her to get undressed. He hadn't even considered how that sounded until he saw her hesitate. He cursed at himself, about to apologize when she began pulling her night shirt over her head. He swallowed and turned away, giving her some sense of privacy.

When he turned back around to face her, his breath caught. Merlin, she looked awful. She'd lost so much weight, but that was easily fixed. Bruises and cuts covered her from head to toe. Usually, when he healed her, it was in the dark. He'd never seen the true impact of his father's torture in the light. "What has he done to you?" he gasped.

"Everything," she whispered, her eyes downcast, as she tried to cover herself.

He shook his head. "Come here," Draco instructed, wrapping and arm around her slight form as he led her to the bath and helped her in. He felt her relax as the warm healing water washed over her. "I'll get you something to wear," he said, pulling back when he was sure she was stable.

"I have to wear what he gives me. It's in the contract," she explained.

He knew that, but he'd forgotten. "Damn him!" He sighed heavily. "It says nothing about cleaning them, correct?"

"Right," she replied, looking at him curiously.

"Good," he said, cleaning the clothes on the floor with his strongest cleansing charm. They looked good as new, though he still wished she didn't have to wear them. "There, I'll leave you to wash up, then I'll heal your wounds."

"Thanks Draco," she said with a small smile, and he couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of her expression something he'd missed for so long.

Stalking from the room, he marched to the other side of the Manor, determination in his step as he approached his father's Master chambers. That bastard deserved a taste of his own medicine. Even if it did get Draco thrown in Azkaban.

Storming into the room, he was ready for battle, but thoughts of a duel fled quickly when he noticed his father, naked as the day he was born, passed out, face down in his bed. He could smell the stink of firewhisky everywhere. As he watched the man, inelegantly snore into his pillow, the realized how easy it would be to end all of this. Just a quick curse to the sleeping man and Hermione's misery would be over. She'd be free. It would be worth it.

He lifted his wand. He wanted it. Merlin, he wanted that man dead, but the longer he stood there, the more he realized he couldn't do it. What would happen if he were thrown in Azkaban? Hermione would be next. That was, if the Death Eaters running the ministry didn't take what they wanted from her first before leaving her dead. He shuddered at the thought.

Fuck! Why could he do this one thing? He wanted it. His hand was ready, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. He did not deserve Hermione's respect or adoration because it was within his power to end her pain, and he was too much a coward to do anything about it.

Letting out a grunt of frustration he lowered his wand and stalked from the room. He was utterly worthless. He hung his head as he walked slowly back to his own room, knowing that, if nothing else, he had to help Hermione keep her sanity through this if he couldn't do what needed to be done to save her from this hell. Shaking the thoughts of self-disgust from his head he entered his room and sat at the edge of his bed, waiting for her.

It wasn't long until she left the bathroom, clean shirt on and hair dripping from her bath. "Come," he said, motioning for her to come closer. She smiled slightly and sat next to him on the bed, the smell of her freshly cleaned skin making him hard despite himself. He'd wanted her for so long, but he was destined to be unsatisfied. This situation was intolerable.

Slowly but surely he healed all the wounds on her face and back. "There. I know you are still sore, I can't do anything about that." Unfortunately, they'd discovered pain relieving potions were forbidden by the contract. Only topical remedies were allowed, and that was only because of his father's hasty neglect in writing the contract.

"And your teeth," he said looking into her eyes, "I'll have to leave them like that for now. He'll just keep cursing them."

"You've done more than enough, Draco," she assured him and he couldn't have disagreed more. He'd done nothing. He was useless.

"No, I haven't," he said. "I should take you away from here." Merlin, he wished he could.

"You know you can't," she said sadly. "It's pointless even to talk about." It was true, of course. It was pointless to talk about, but he couldn't help himself, even so.

"Come, get in," he said, flipping the covers of the bed down. He didn't want to talk to Lucius any more. He'd never invited her into his bed before, but it felt right now. He knew it would remain completely non-sexual. For one, she was bound tightly in her contract to his father. But more importantly, he wasn't sure she'd be able to have sexual desire for anyone given the last year of her life. He just wanted to hold her while he knew he could.

He saw anxiety in her eyes as her body tensed. "But...what about...If your father finds out..." she stuttered nervously and he shook his head, stopping her mid-freak out.

"He's passed out in a drunken stupor," Draco assured her. "I checked. He's not going anywhere." Unfortunately.

He felt her relax as she got under the covers and he pulled her tightly to him, feeling he slight frame against his. He hummed to himself, breathing her in again. "I've wanted to hold you like this for so long," he admitted, a small smile on his face.

He felt her tense again and wondered what he'd done to make her uncomfortable this time. "I can't...I mean, I want to, but I can't be with you. He would know," she said, her eyes scared as she looked at him, and his heart thumped in his chest. Did she think he would make her? Was what happened to her so bad that she forgot that she actually had the right to say no?

"I know, Hermione. I'd never take you in this house. Not in this place," he said, shivering at the thought. If he every had a chance with her, it would be far away from Malfoy Manor.

"Why do you waste your time with me? You can never have me," she pointed out.

"I don't want anyone else," Draco replied. And it was true. The only thing he wanted more was the will to kill the piece of shit that sired him. Pulling her face close to his, he kissed her gently on the lips. Merlin, he wanted more. He felt her soft body against his, moaning against his mouth and it took all his strength to pull away from her before he got carried away.

"Even with my chipmunk teeth? I know how much you hated them."

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I enjoyed pissing you off more than anything. Do I like your teeth better the other way? Sure. But, honestly I could give a fig about your teeth Hermione. You are beautiful either way."

She smiled brightly at that, and it warmed his heart. He sighed with relief, hugging her tight. Before he could stop himself, his lips on hers again, tasting her fully as his tongue slipped past her lips. Her leg hitched around his hip to get more leverage and he couldn't help the hiss that escaped his mouth as his growing erection rubbed against her. He had to hold it together. He wanted her, but he'd never ever let himself lose control with her.

Pulling away gently he made her a promise that he swore he would keep. "I'm going to get you out of this, Hermione." Somehow, he'd find the will to do it.


He heard her screams before he saw her. They were raw, animalistic cries, worse than anything he'd ever heard before. And he'd heard some horrific things in his short life. The fact that the gut wrenching sounds were being wrenched from Hermione...well, something within him snapped.

She was unintelligible. He couldn't make out anything she screamed, but he knew she was in so much pain that even the Cruciatus would have been a relief. The bastard was getting more and more desperate with his torture. That only meant one thing. She wasn't arousing him on her own anymore. Draco shuddered. She'd be dead within two months, and those two months would be pure hell.

No. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't. Gripping his wand tight, he left her, screaming and crying on the floor as he went to locate his father.

Stalking down the hall with purpose, he knew what he had to do. This was about Hermione. He would save her, or he'd sentence her to agonizing death. Because it was for her, he knew he could do it. He took several calming breaths outside the door to his father's chambers before kicking it in, letting his eyes rest on the man he hated more than the Dark Lord. His own father.

"Father," he greeted, a sneer on his lips that was once reserved only for Harry Potter.

"Draco," his father purred, a smirk on the edge of his lips. "I take it you've seen my latest work."

"What did you do to her?" Draco bit out.

"It's my own creation. Will take you a while to free her from that one, I'm sure," Lucius said with a shrug.

Draco raised his wand at his father then, and the older man didn't even flinch. Smirking wider her asked, "Do you really think you can do it now when you couldn't before?"

"I have something to kill for now," Draco pointed out.

"Oh yes, the Mudblood," he rolled his eyes.

"She was important enough for you to expend all of your political capital to possess. It seems I'm not the only Malfoy who's taken a liking to Granger. The difference is, I don't hate myself for it," Draco said, his wand never wavering. "Now, tell me what you did to her."

"No." Lucius said. "Figure it out yourself, or let it run it's course. If you relieve her pain, I'll simply cast it for longer next time."

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you? She's a human being. She's not your toy!" Draco shouted.

"That's exactly what she is," Lucius said. "For as long as I find her worth playing with."

They stood there, staring at each other for a long moment, Draco's wand aimed as his father and Lucius' stare oddly bored. It was clear to Draco that his father thought him unable to kill. But as he saw the complete disregard for the woman he loved, and the intent of his father to kill her slowly an painfully, he had everything he needed to cast the curse.

"You think I'm weak," Draco said. "Perhaps I am. I know I was to have let you torture her the way you do without putting an end to it long ago. But hear this. I love her. I will save her from this, and I hope you rot in the blackest pits of hell. Avada Kadavra."

The green light shot from his wand and hit Lucius square in the chest before the only man even had a moment to react. The odd expression of complete surprise etched on his face, now permanently, in death. And Draco didn't feel a second of guilt, like he'd always worried he would. He should have done that so long ago.

Filled with renewed strength, he left the room without even a single glance back at the dead form of his father lying on the floor at the foot of his bed, and raced back to Hermione, where he heard her screams getting louder and louder as he approached.

"Hermione!" he called to her, looking her over, with a new task before him. He had to free her from this curse. "Hermione, love, can you move?"

"No," she barely bit out, and unintelligible cries followed.

"Oh Merlin," he breathed, racking his brain. He knew his father's style at curse making. He could figure this out. He would - and fast.

"I'm going to die," Hermione groaned, barely coherent enough to understand. "It hurts too much."

'You are not going to die," he promised, his words harsher than he intended. He'd fix this. "I'm going to heal you, just give me a minute to figure out how to reverse this curse."

She quieted then, her teeth baring down as she grunted through the pain. It helped him concentrate. He'd already noticed it was a skin curse. Skin curses were easy. They almost never went below the skin to the vital organs. Besides, Lucius hadn't wanted to kill her. Only make her wish she were dead.

"Finite Incantatum," he tried. It was worth a shot. Nothing.

"Finite Cutis Adolebit." Nothing.

"Finite Ardens Carnis." Her breathing instantly slowed and a moan of relief escaped her. Bingo. He nearly sagged with relief himself.

"Draco," she cried, her voice cracked from overuse as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Fucking bastard," he muttered to himself as he realized that hid father cast a curse to make her literally feel as if her skin were on a live flame. He reached down to take her hand and help her sit. "Be careful. Your skin will be tight for a few days."

"Until he casts that on me next time," Hermione said, her body shuddering with tangible fear at the thought.

"Never again," Draco promised, forcing her to look him in the eyes. She'd never know pain again if he had his way. She'd seen more than enough for 10 lifetimes.

"You know he won't be able to resist, now that he knows how much it hurts," she pointed out.

"No," Draco said, shaking his head forcefully "He'll never touch you again, Hermione. You are free." The words leaving his mouth made him lightheaded. He'd wanted to tell her she was free for so long.

"That's not funny," she said, pushing him away, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

"It's true. I killed him," he told her.

"You what?" she asked, looking up at him with a look of confusion and fear on her face.

"When I saw...when I saw what he'd done to you...I couldn't let it happen again. I should have done this on day one. He's a useless bastard and he was never worth the life he was given," he said, staring back at her so she knew he meant every word. He had absolutely no regrets. Fuck Lucius Malfoy.

"Draco!" she cried, her eyes wide with horror. "They'll throw you in Azkaban!"

"Most likely," he admitted. "But I don't plan to get caught."

"What do you mean? Someone will investigate." That was true. His father was too conspicuous to go unnoticed. Though, he didn't plan to be anywhere near England when they found out the old bastard was dead. He knew, long ago, that if he could work up the courage to kill the man, he'd have to leave England behind. England held nothing for him anyway.

"Hermione, come with me. Let's get out of here. This society can't be fixed. The people running this country will never give up power. Even most of the Order have started to leave." It was true. The Weasleys had already left, each going his or her own way, Potter having left with Ginny. Kingsley Shacklebolt was gone. McGonnagal had retired to a far off location. There were few Order members around anymore, and those that were, remained underground.

"Come with me," he pled again. "We can make a life in the Muggle world - go to some far off country and live. No one will find us.

He watched the wheels in her head click as she considered his proposition, but her answer came quickly. "Okay," she said. He sighed with relief as he pulled her close and crushed her into a tight hug. She was all he cared about anymore anyway.


Draco fucking loved Australia. The entire country seemed to be on vacation. Their laid back attitude and kindness was a constant shock to him every day. It wasn't just the Muggles either. Without cluing Hermione in, he snuck into the Wizarding section of Sydney one day and was shocked to see how integrated the Wizarding World in Australia was to the Muggle world. There was no telling the Pureblood from the Muggle born, and there wasn't that sense of stringent tradition, thick in the air.

He couldn't believe it. An entire Wizarding society that didn't base itself on the idea that Muggles were an inherent threat. He sure as hell did not miss England. And he spent every day, not missing England, with Hermione. He should have killed his father on day one, before the bastard even had a chance to lay a hand on her.

There was no use 'crying over spilled milk', as Hermione would say. She was free now, and he aimed to spend the rest of her life making her forget the horrible year she lived in Malfoy Manor. And though he itched to make her truly forget by laying his own memories within her, he knew she was not nearly ready for a physical relationship yet. That was okay. He could wait.

Not that he had much time to think about sex given the intense study and work it took to learn to integrate into Muggle society and get a job. Draco was unaccustomed to the harsh reality of having to pay bills, but he was not above learning. And he had Hermione to teach him along the way. As voraciously as she'd learned the Wizarding World, she had kept up with the Muggle one. Soon, they were outfitted with mobile phones, a laptop computer, and proper Muggle clothing. Then she set about teaching him everything he'd need to know to get by normally.

He'd always been good with numbers, so he looked for jobs keeping up finances for small businesses. A 'bookkeeper' Hermione had called it. Only problem was, all those jobs required computer proficiency. Learning to use a computer in his twenties was not as easy as it had been for Hermione when she was in her early teens, but he did learn enough to secure a job for a small bakery not far from their apartment. Driving was a task he wasn't sure he'd ever master.

Still, they were content, and everyday he watched Hermione blossom in the new freedom they'd cut out for themselves. She was radiant, and he loved it.


"Mmmm," Hermione moaned as Draco kissed his way down her neck. He loved the way she shuddered and shook with pleasure in his arms at even the slightest kiss. He vowed never to make her feel anything but pleasure in their bed, and although they hadn't taken that final leap, he knew it was only a matter of time.

Still, he had bills to pay and this particular morning, he couldn't laze about in bed. "As much as I hate to, I've got to go to work." He grinned to himself when she groaned in annoyance.

He'd felt her getting more anxious to take things further over the last weeks, and he'd been holding her off. It wasn't that he didn't want to. He did, more than anything. But he didn't want to rush her. After the abuse she'd faced, he didn't want anything to scare her off.

Still, it didn't mean the sexual tension went unnoticed by him. Merlin's tit, he wanted her. He wanted to erase all those bad memories his father had instilled in her and fill her with new ones - of them.

"Fine," she finally sighed, pushing back from him. She'd have to get ready for work soon enough too. She'd finally found her parents, but for the life of them they couldn't figure out how to reverse her spell - not to mention, her magic never really returned properly. The Magical Force she used to be was gone for good. Draco didn't care. They rarely used magic any more as it was, and he was just glad to have her alive. But he could tell it bothered her some, that was, until she'd secured a job working as the receptionist in her parents' dental practice. Of course, they didn't know she was their daughter, but Draco could see the way being near them had brightened her up. It made him happy. She was moving on, and he would make sure she was happy.

"I have to get up too," she finally said as he finished pulling on his clothes for the day.

"I love you," Draco said, the words flowing so easily off his tongue because they were true, and he never wanted her to question it.

"Love you, too," Hermione replied happily.


She was going to kill him if she kept rubbing herself against him like that, panting his name like a fucking prayer. After dinner, they'd only made it so far as getting horizontal on the couch, her hips thrusting against his until he thought he'd go mad.

"Hermione, I don't want you to regret..." he tried to choke out a protest, but in all honesty, his cock was doing a lot of the thinking and he thrust against her as he pinned her to the couch.

"I'm ready, Draco..." she said, her voice husky with lust and he felt his cock pulse. "It's been long enough. Please! Help me know what it's supposed to feel like. Wash away what he did to me." Fuck. How the hell could he deny her that? Especially when it was what he wanted too.

"You are not him," she pled her case, looking at him directly in the eyes as he warred with himself. "You love me. I know you do. Please, Draco." Merlin-be-damned if she was really ready, he wasn't going to say no any more.

His lips were on hers instantly, and he moaned against her as she held him tight. "Let's go to the bedroom," she suggested and all he could do was nod. His brain wasn't functioning properly anymore. He pulled away long enough to stand up and pull her down to their bedroom and she was all over him the minute the door clicked shut.

Soon, they were on the bed and she'd switched the tables on him. He was underneath her, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and any thoughts that she'd have to be eased into this flew right out of his head. "Hermione..." he breathed as she straddled his hips and kissed him hard and deep. Fuck, she was going to kill him.

But suddenly her mouth went slack against his own and he worried something had happened. Her eyes were unfocused as she looked like she'd been lost in thought. "You okay?" he asked, fearing the worst. Was she having a flashback? Was she scared of continuing?

She shook her head slightly and smiled at him. "Fine," she assured him, and he didn't question her. Especially not when she began bucking on top of him. He had to get her out of those clothes, as soon as possible.

She was having none of it, though. "Let me," she suggested moving off of him so quickly he almost cried out from the loss. But then he looked at her eyes. Oh, she was planning something. Something delicious.

She smirked slightly at him as she lifted her shirt over her head and his breath caught in his throat. Even after everything she'd been through, Draco had ensured she not have a single scar from his horrible father on her beautiful skin. Not that he wouldn't have found her beautiful with them. But he didn't want her to have any physical reminders of that year of hell. And true to his promise to her, she was flawless as she stood before him, pulling at the drawstring of her pants and letting them fall to her feet.

"Hermione..." he breathed, reaching out to her, but she just shook her head and threw him a naughty grin. Who was this playful vixen before him? Her eyes twinkled as she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it fall down naturally off of her glorious breasts. Of course, he'd seen them before. But it was hard to focus on her when he'd been either comforting her in the wake of one of his father's violent rages or healing the scars he'd left behind. Now, Merlin, she made his cock jump.

He'd had enough of the show. He wanted to touch her. Couldn't wait to touch her, in fact. "No more teasing," he groaned, reaching out for her again. He didn't give her the option of eluding him this time though. He just reached around her waist and pulled her down on the bed with him, flipping to hover over her in seconds.

His hands moved to her breasts as he kissed her slowly and sensually, savoring her flavor before pulling back to say, "I need you." And he did. He needed her like he needed air.

"I need you too," she panted already working his clothes off of him. His head was hazy and he didn't even notice she'd gotten all of his clothes off of him until he felt her small but firm hand wrapped around his dick, tugging hard.

"Fuck!" he panted. "Hermione, stop," he begged of her. "It's too much!" He breathed deeply in and out of his nose to try and regain some control over his oversensitive body. She looked disappointed, but he planned to change that as soon as possible.

He started at her lips and kissed a path down her body, touching and tasting every bit of her overheated skin. His cock jumped again when he heard her moan his name as he attacked her nipples with his mouth. He'd heard her say his name a million times. He'd even heard her moan it, but in this moment, she sounded like she could come undone at any time and he rubbed himself against the mattress as he continued to play her body like a violen just to get rid of the painful tension.

He felt her open up for him, widening her thighs for him to move between them. He had a goal in mind and, as much as he could have kept his face between her tits all day, he wanted more too. He slowly kissed down her stomach before dipping his tongue into her belly button until he felt her tense and let out a nervous giggle. He stopped immediately.

"Okay?" he asked, worried that he'd done something to upset her.

"I'm fine. Stop asking," she chuckle and rolled her eyes at him. He immediately felt relieved. She was ready for this. He could see it in the way she looked at him. He grinned up at her and continued his journey down her stomach until he found himself right above her neatly trimmed pussy. He saw her stomach muscles clinch in anticipation and he smirked to himself.

He started with one long lick against her clit and the reaction was immediate. She moaned loudly and bucked her hips. He held them down on the mattress as he continued his oral assault.

He almost came when her fingers gripped his hair tightly and she directed him where she wanted him. "Draco!" she cried and he licked her harder and faster, worrying her clit between his teeth before licking the painful pleasure away. "Oh fuck!" she moaned and he knew she was close.

He let her buck slightly against him as he continued to lick and suck her and as her legs shook he silently willed her to come. Her moans and cries set his body on fire, and he wanted to be buried inside her as soon as possible. Finally he felt her stiffen underneath him as she came hard and fast, and he licked her right through the intense high until she was a pile of relaxed goo underneath him. Fuck that was hot.

He couldn't believe after everything, how open she was with him. He vowed then, never to let her feel fear in the bedroom ever again. She surprised him further when she licked her own juices off his face and brushed her thigh against his aching erection.

"That felt so amazing," she admitted, resting her forehead against his and staring deeply into his eyes. He'd never felt as close to someone as he felt to her in that moment.

"You are wonderful," he breathed, feeling a strong emotion wash over him. How could anyone look at this woman and not love her? But the tender feelings gave way to high pitched lust when she began rubbing her dripping wet pussy against his painfully hard cock.

"You make me so hot," she said, her breath hitching. He had to stop her before he came.

"Take pity on me, please!" he begged. He was relieved when she stopped her torture and leaned down to kiss him slowly, sensually, as she grabbed his cock and lead it to her entrance. Slowly she lowered herself on him and he was happy to have her in control. She deserved to control her own pleasure, and he was just pleased she was taking him for the ride.

She was tight and wet, and she felt so good he wanted to die. Her hands went to his chest and she pushed herself up and down on him, slowly at first. He wanted to pump into her with all the force he had, but he knew she needed to control the pace. But then she got used to him filling her and he felt her walls flutter around him as she sped up, riding him harder and faster.

Merlin, he could have died in that moment and been happy to go. Her eyes were unfocused as she looked down at him. "Mmmm, feels so good," she murmured before leaning back to use his thighs as leverage as she rode him even harder.

It took all his concentration to hold out until he could make her come before filling her with his own pleasure. Looking down at where they were joined, he watched her eager pussy swallow his cock, the wetness of her desire coating the shaft as she fucked him.

Fuck, he had to come. He reached between them and flicked her clit with his thumb and she clinched around him.

"That's it, Hermione," he groaned, pushing up into her, meeting her thrust for thrust as she rose and fell on him with all she had. "Ride me," he encouraged her, his heart racing and he could feel his balls tingling. No! He would not come until she did.

"So close..." she slurred and he was relieved because he didn't know how much longer he could take this sweet torture.

"Thank Merlin," he said. "Come, Hermione. Come on my cock!" The dirty talk sped up her movements and made her impossibly wetter as she bucked against him with abandon.

"Oh shit! DRACO!" she cried out clamping down on him so hard he was sure his dick would break off. It hurt so fucking good.

"Yes! Come on me," he shouted feeling his own orgasm approaching like a freight train. He held her hips in his hands and slammed so hard into her he felt her cervix hit the tip of his penis. "HERMIONE!" he cried and his cock exploded inside her, washing her walls with his hot come.

She was already collapsed on top of him when he came back to reality, his heart racing from the most intense orgasm he'd ever had. "Wow..." she panted. Understatement of the year.

"Amazing..." he said, unable to make any more words come out of his mouth at the moment. All he knew was that he fucking loved Australia...and Hermione.