A/N: Warning, this next chapter gets really intense...

Last Chapter:

"Draco? What is it?"

"It's Ginny," he said, his voice shaky. "She's missing."

Ginny POV

Ginny's vision swam; what happened? The last thing she remembered was taking her gifts up to her bedroom. Then something hit her head, and everything went black. It didn't make any sense...

"Ah, you're awake," a voice drawled. She blinked several times, and a figure stepped into her line of sight. She recognized him instantly as Blaise Zabini, the handsome stranger from last night's ball. But what was he doing in the Burrow?

Oh, wait...

"You'll notice you're no longer at home," he pointed out. "I'm not going to tell you where you are, though. It's just as well you don't know."

Ginny frowned. "Why am I here?"

His lips twisted into a smirk that made Ginny's skin crawl. Whatever it was, she had a feeling it wasn't good. "You'll see soon enough," he said. "But in the meantime," he added, stepping slowly toward her, "I have some... plans for you."

Something glistened by his belt, and Ginny looked to see a long, shimmering knife stuffed into one of the loops on his trousers. But before she could scream, his hand flew across her face, and she fell unconscious again.

Hermione POV

Hermione's breath came in short, erratic bursts as she raced up to the door to the Burrow. What she found inside was troubling, if not surprising. Draco and Ron were both pacing back and forth; Fred and George, Ginny's twin older brothers, tried (and failed) to lighten the mood with various jokes and pranks; Mrs. Weasley was draped over the couch, sobbing; and Mr. Weasley sat quietly in his chair, his face pale.

Ron was the first person to see Hermione, and he immediately walked over to her, almost running into Draco in the process. Draco, frustrated at his path being cut off, watched Ron with a venomous expression, until he, too, spotted Hermione, and then he repeated the redhead's actions. They both stopped, however, upon seeing that she was not alone.

After Draco's phone call, Hermione had become somewhat of a basket case, so Harry had insisted on using sidelong apparition to get her there. He nodded cordially to the other two gentlemen, who merely stared. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Hey," she said nervously, hugging both her friends. "Any news?"

"We found this," Ron produced an envelope. "It's addressed to you."

Hermione glanced at him, then Draco, before lowering her eyes to the envelope. Her name was scrawled in black ink across the back. With shaking hands, she took it from Ron, and opened it, reading anxiously.

To Miss Hermione Granger,

I would suggest you reconsider your resolve, which you so kindly favored me with last night. Meet me at the Hog's Head at midnight. And if you ever want to see your lovely friend again, you'll come alone.

-BZ

It didn't take long for her to deduce that "BZ" was Blaise Zabini. She knew he was bad news, but this... this was beyond anything she could have imagined. Tears of anger and hatred streamed down her face. "Zabini," she muttered.

Draco took the letter, and as he read, his face went so pale, Hermione was sure he'd died and become a ghost. "No," he whispered, his breathing shallow. "No, no, no," he repeated over and over, as if the words would make this nightmare go away.

It didn't work, of course.

"Zabini has her?" Ron seethed. Hermione nodded mutely, handing him the letter. He read, and then his face went pale, though not as pale as Draco's. Harry snatched it from the unresponsive Weasley. His only reaction was an expression of confusion.

"That bastard," Hermione snarled, shaking with her fury. Harry turned to her, his eyes concerned. "I'll kill him."

"What does he want with you?" he asked her warily.

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. "Last night, he... made some unwanted advances, both physically and verbally. And I threatened him. I told him I'd make his life a living hell." Her eyes opened, a renewed fury in them. "And I intend to keep my promise," she added.

Harry started after her, grabbing her arm. "It's dangerous. You don't know what he could do to you, what he may already have done to her."

"I don't give a flying f—"

"Hermione, please," he interrupted, using her first name. This caught her attention, and she looked up into his eyes. "At least let me go with you."

She gulped. "He said to come alone."

The tiniest of smirks graced his lips. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

This was absolute madness.

Here she was, Hermione Granger, a highly intelligent witch, walking along the deserted streets of Hogsmeade village, late at night, toward a very dangerous situation, involving a man who had sent her a threatening letter, and was doing God knows what to one of her best friends. And Harry Potter, the man who allegedly loved her, even though he thought she was beneath him (sort of), was walking beside her. The best (or scariest) part? She couldn't see him.

No one could.

After attempting to calm down Draco and the Weasleys, Harry assured them that he would return with Hermione and Ginny, both of them safe and unharmed. He hoped. Then, they apparated to his mansion (Holy Merlin, Hermione thought), where Harry retrieved a surprising object in his possession: an Invisibility cloak.

And now, they were walking in Hogsmeade, silently. Hermione blessed the rain that had come earlier, and washed the snow from the streets, or someone—should any person choose to come out so late—might wonder where the extra set of footprints beside hers were coming from.

Hermione spotted the Hog's Head down the way; it was dark, obviously closed. "He must be in cahoots with the owner," she mused bitterly.

"I certainly wouldn't be surprised," the unseen Harry said, his voice equally laced with animosity. "The few times I've come in contact with him, he's always seemed to be drunk, or intent on becoming so. And besides that, the Hog's Head is known for its... er, waitresses."

"Prostitutes?" she guessed. He remained silent, which she took as her answer.

They didn't speak the rest of the walk. At length, they reached the empty pub, and she placed a shaky hand on the doorknob. It opened easily, not even creaking at the movement. Hermione tripped over the doorjamb as she walked in, feeling the first shred of fear since reading that letter. Once inside, she stopped, glancing around. It was nearly pitch black; the only light came from beneath a door across the pub, a soft, muted glow. She gulped. Zabini must be keeping her in there. She paused, unsure of what she might see.

Hermione felt a slight pressure on the small of her back, and a voice whispered just above her left ear, "Don't worry, I'm here." A shiver trickled its way down her spine, but it wasn't one of fear, or even anxiety. In fact, those words and that voice were oddly comforting. Her trepidation eased, and her previous determination took its place, pushing her forward.

Behind the door was a staircase, spiraling downward, the light becoming brighter nearer the end. Harry's hand came to her back again, though he didn't speak this time. She nodded once, and, with baited breath, began her descent.

What she found at the bottom was shocking, to say the least. The room, lit by a dozen or so lanterns, was practically empty. It was completely made of stone, with no windows, and the only furniture in sight was a sort of alter... upon which a very familiar redhead lay.

"Ginny!" she breathed, and made to run across the room and help her friend.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a disembodied voice echoed in the room. She stopped, just in time to see several metal spikes collapse from the ceiling, one of which missed her by just a few inches. Hermione jumped back, gasping. Ginny lay motionless on the alter.

"You better not have killed her, you sick bastard," she seethed.

A quiet chuckle. "I find it rather interesting how most people think I'm a ruthless, cold-hearted killer. As it happens, I'm not one for pointless murder. I just know how to... use certain threats to my advantage."

Hermione's eyes darted around the room, looking for any sight of the dark-skinned dickhead. But she couldn't see him anywhere. And Ginny looked so pale...

"What advantage?" she asked warily.

"Getting you here, of course," he replied, his voice coming from behind her. She whirled around, and sure enough, there he was. The smirk on his face made her stomach churn with utter hatred, and she glared menacingly.

"Well, I'm here," she spat. "Now let her go."

He inhaled sharply, making a face. "Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that just yet."

"Let her go," she repeated fiercely.

"I will, believe me," he sneered. "But first, I need you to do something for me." Her glare intensified, but she held back the many retorts—most of which included some rather ugly profanity—that immediately came to mind. He took that as his clue to continue. "See, a few years ago, a prophecy was made concerning my family. It said, more or less, that my family line would end with me. Now," he went on, "I admit, I have no interest in marriage. However, the name Zabini was not meant to be so easily extinguished. So... I need an heir."

Hermione had a bad feeling about this. "So what's that got to do with me?"

"The Zabini family has had all sons for the last four hundred years," he said simply, sauntering to the other side of the room. "The secret? All the men have married women with a certain amount of..." he turned around and smirked at her, "...fire within them."

"Are you seriously telling me," she began quietly, "that you want to impregnate me with the heir to your family's fortune?"

"It's you, or her," he said, pointing to Ginny's prostrate form. "She doesn't quite have the stamina to guarantee a son, but the chances are still quite high. You, on the other hand..." He paused, giving her a predatory smile as he slowly closed the distance between them.

Hermione felt physically sick. "You are a vile, despicable, loathsome, piece of shit! I wouldn't come near you with a fifty-foot pole!"

He gave a shrug. "Then I guess it's her."

With a crack, he apparated over to Ginny, and lifted her off the alter. "It's a pity you didn't consider my offer," he shouted. "I'm sure you're fantastic in the sack."

"YOU—"

But before Hermione could get out a single insult, the perimeter of the room burst into flames. "I'm not one for useless killing," Zabini called, "but I can't have you going about besmirching my family's name, can I?" He winked. "Nice knowing you!"

And with that, he disapparated. Harry reappeared suddenly by her side, the cloak in a ball beneath his arm. "That sick, twisted arse!" he snarled.

The reality came crashing down on Hermione like a ton of bricks. Zabini was going to rape Ginny, and get her pregnant. Then, once she'd delivered the heir to his fortune, he'd likely leave her penniless in the streets. And she and Harry were trapped inside this tiny stone room.

"Oh, my God..." she muttered, clutching her head in her hands. "What have I done?"

Harry POV

The situation was grim, at best. They were trapped, and the fire was steadily closing in on them. Eventually, it would reach them, and they would burn to death. And that... that... God, he couldn't even think of a strong enough word to insult him! He didn't deserve to live! Harry racked his brains for something—anything—that would get them out of this. And then, it hit him: any fire, produced by magic, became an instant Floo portal. The portal lasted at least until someone in the Ministry caught it, and close the portal from the network. And this was definitely magical fire.

"We might just make it," he finished his thought aloud.

Hermione turned to him, her confusion evident. "Make what?"

Harry reached into the pocket of his coat. He always carried a small pouch of Floo Powder with him, just in case. Sirius told him he was just paranoid... now he had proof that he wasn't. As he emptied the contents into his hand, Hermione's eyes widened. "Let's hope this works," he said, before tossing the powder into the flames.

Instantly, they turned a bright green. Harry allowed himself a brief grin, before he shouted, "Zabini Manor!" The flames grew brighter and larger. Harry took Hermione's hand, and they stepped into the fire.

A moment later, they emerged from an ornate fireplace, into a sinister-looking study within what he assumed was Zabini's home. It sure looked like him. His hand still clasping Hermione's, he moved toward the door, and they began to search the house for any sign of him, or Ginny. Finally, they heard a loud thud, followed by a piercing shriek, coming from a room just down the hall from where they were. They shared a look, then sprinted down the corridor into the room in question.

The sight before them caused a red tinge to blur Harry's vision.

Zabini lay, sprawled across his bed, with an obviously irate and non-compliant Ginny Weasley beneath him. He was holding her legs apart with his own, and his clothing was disheveled—but still in place. They weren't too late.

Before Zabini had a chance to react, Harry raised his wand at him. "Stupefy!" He flew to the opposite end of the room, his head hitting a bookshelf and causing the contents to spill over the floor, before collapsing himself.

Ginny shot up from the bed, and Harry glanced away; she was clad in nothing but her undergarments. While the two women shared a tearful reunion, he crossed over to where Zabini lay unconscious. "Ennervate," he muttered, and the wizard at his feet slowly came to. As soon as Harry knew he was awake enough to register pain, he punched him across the jaw. He groaned loudly, his hand clutching his jaw. Harry knelt down and grabbed him by the collar.

"You worthless sack of shit," he whispered, and Zabini turned wide, frightened eyes to his. "If I hear you've so much as breathed on either of these two women, or any of their friends or family, I promise you, I will hunt you down and torture you within an inch of your life. And even when you're on your knees, begging for death, I won't give you the satisfaction." He paused. "Is that understood?"

Zabini nodded mutely. Harry was tempted to punch him again, just for being a spineless little snake, but decided to settle for Marking him. As such a prominent member of wizarding society, and also as the son of two former Aurors, he'd learned the Marking curse, which was used to detect dark wizards and other criminals. He performed the spell without speaking, and therefore, Zabini didn't notice. He almost wished he could be there to see the little weasel's face when the Aurors showed up to arrest him.

Almost.

But he had more important things on his mind, namely, the two women still hugging and sobbing, whom he had promised to deliver home safely.

A/N: No idea where that came from. Seriously. Ugh. That's sick. I must have a really weird brain. Wait... there was never any doubt about that one. But still. A little more dramatic than was my intent, but I think I'll keep it. It adds a nice edge to the story, and really makes Harry more of a hero. And if you think about it, in P&P, when Lydia goes off with Mr. Wickham, that would be roughly equivalent to this in their time period. So... yeah. Anyways, please leave a review!