The hot water steamed on Draco's back, splashing into the basin. He counted the splashes as he moved around the stream. One. Two. Three. Four. Twenty-six.

A knock at the door and he lost count. A jolt of anger wracked through his limbs.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"It's me." Hermione's voice answered. "You've been in there for a long time."

Was she worried about me? Did it matter?

The guard he'd sent to watch her was notoriously quiet and still. Draco imagined when he left the bathroom he'd fine Rickers standing like a mountain in the corner of the room, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, just as Draco had left him.

They'd both heard the water turn off, his feet squeak on the tile as he dried himself off, turned around and climbed back in the shower again.

Draco's skin was red, streaked where the fiery water met his flesh. Still, it was never hot enough. Never burned enough to push, push, away the dirt. He was never clean. Not ever – not clean enough.

He counted the splashes again. He needed a count all the way through, without any interruptions, or the rest of his day would feel broken.

Or he would feel broken.

Adequate, he thought, stepping out of the shower for the last time, wrapping the towel around his waist and entering the bedroom.

His eyes caught Hermione's and she stood up abruptly as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. He grabbed a set of clothes out of his drawer, more casual than usual. Dark wool trousers, a black v-neck sweater. He slipped back into the bathroom and changed into his clothes.

When he returned to the room, Draco said "Thank you, Rickers" and gestured to the door.

"Yes, sir," he replied, standing, so tall he almost hit the ceiling. He lumbered out of the room. Draco often wondered if Rickers was half-giant.

In the sweater and pants Draco had given her, Hermione sat in the nook by the window, the sunlight forming a warm halo around her head. Her cheeks had more color in them than when he'd seen her at the prison though she looked much too skinny. Bones carving out jagged lines on her face, her arms knobbly and frail.

"You took three showers," she breathed.

His eyes lifted and he held her in his gaze, his eyes playing along every well defined twist and turn of her body. She was like a deconstructed puzzle. Scattered pieces begging to be reassembled. He tried to ignore the feeling that crept inside him, burning his insides, like scorpions. What if he were the one to run his fingers over the crooked pieces of her puzzle? What if he were the one to put her back together?

"Can you stop staring at me?" she muttered.

Draco pressed his lips together in a thin line. He had no plans on showing her any weakness. Not that there was much weakness left in him. The Dark Lord had made sure to destroy anything in Draco's life that could steal his strength. Even if it hurt, it was for his own good.

"It's time for your first lesson, Hermione."

She licked her dry, cracked lips. "What lesson? What could you possibly teach me?"

He moved across the room faster than he should be able too. It was a trick the Dark Lord had taught him. He said it was important to seem more than human, that there was power in being unexplained. Moving unnaturally fast, standing unnaturally still. Those were all parts of his arsenal. His way of controlling. And he had learned from the best.

Draco had Hermione's chin between his fingers. "It would be wise if you learned not to insult me."

"Why?" she spat.

"Rickers, fetch Longbottom," Draco said loud enough so that Rickers could hear outside the door.

The door clicked open and Rickers stuck his large head through the crack. "Yes, sir."

He listened to the clomp of Rickers's boot on the hardwood floor. One. Two. Three. He counted. The sound and the rhythm a possessive melody in his head.

"What do you want with Neville?" asked Hermione softly.

"You need to see what I can do. What I'm capable of."

Her lip raised in a snarl, her whole countenance unhinged. He was all straight lines and tight collars. She was a ripping seam, a wild, whipped up wind. "I know what you're capable of."

"No, Granger." His hand squeezed her wrist. "You have no idea. Not yet." Her eyes held strong against his gaze. It would take time to make her see. It took time to make Longbottom see. But there were no choices left. Virtue had no place in the Dark Lord's world. There was survival. There was obedience. They could not be separated. And it was something wasn't it. Too teach as many people as he could? To keep them...safe.

"You called, sir?" said Longbottom as he stepped into the room. It was easy to see the transformation. It was blinding. Here was a boy who once cowered in fear, a target for bullies. Now he was all muscle and deep scars across inked skin. His jaw was hard set, eyes unnervingly focused. Draco had taught him many of skills the Dark Lord had passed to him. Quiet confidence. Never using two words where one will do. Knowing your place.

"Yes. Thank you, Longbottom. I need you to do me a favor."

"Yes, sir."

Draco's eyes flashed to Hermione. He needed to make sure she was watching. This was the only way. She had to learn and learn fast. She had to become valuable or face execution. "Remove your wand," he said to Longbottom who promptly followed the order. "Give it to Hermione."

Something flickered in his face, but Draco chose to ignore it. He had other concerns.

"What?" Hermione nearly spat. Draco already had his wand out. Trained on her. "Don't even think about trying to hurt me. Even if you succeed you'll never get out and my order is the only thing keeping you alive - the only thing keeping you from all of them."

Slowly Hermione took Neville's wand, her thin hand shaking."What do you want me to do?" Her voice was like a ghost's, empty and see-through.

Draco didn't answer. He just pulled his wand from his pocket and looked at Longbottom. Longbottom straightened his back, arms clasped behind him. At attention. Draco's insides felt heavy, cold, pressing down. A feeling he'd gotten used to. A disease that lived inside and consumed him. It was not something he could escape; just a side effect of the new order. "Crucio," he said simply.

Red light shot from his wand, crushing into Longbottom's chest. He dropped. Hard. Against the floor. His muscled body writhing, convulsing, twitching. Twisted in total agony. Draco had been on that side of the cruciatus curse more times than he could count. It was part of being a Death Eater, part of the process. If anything, it was a mercy to Longbottom to be at end of his curse rather than at the Dark Lord's like he had been. He was fourteen the first time it happened. The pain seemed to go on for days and days even though it must have been no more than ten or fifteen minutes.

"Stop! Stop!" shouted Hermione. It was clear she had been yelling before he heard her. Her face was red and wet with tears. "Stupefy" she shouted. The spell smashed against his side, throwing him off his feet. Pain shocked through his body as his head snapped against the wall.

"Neville are you okay?" Her voice cracked.

He shoved her touch away. "Don't touch me mudblood. Are you stupid?" Longbottom was holding himself up on his elbows, his dark eyes glaring at her.

"What have you done to him?" Hermione scooted back on the floor, her heads in her hands. "What have you done?"

Saved him.

"I've made him strong," Draco replied, crawling to his feet. "Longbottom understands pain. He no longer has to fear it. He knows he can face it."

Her eyes lifted to him, regarding him with utter disgust. Something cold flicked in his stomach. He didn't like the way she looked at him. He wanted to see something in her eyes other than that deep hate, but he didn't know why. He shouldn't care. But he did, he admitted bitterly to himself. Of course, he did. Otherwise she wouldn't be here at all. He would have let her die. "Are you going to do the same thing to me? Why did you give me this wand?"

"I have no intention of subjecting you to the cruciatus curse, Granger. I think you've already come to accept pain, your own at least. You've been through quite a lot."

"Gee, have I really?" she muttered.

"There's no need for sarcasm." Draco pointed his wand at Longbottom again. He did not enjoy this. It left him feeling sick and shaky. But it was necessary. "Crucio." He held the spell against him. Longbottom thrashed, his eyes wide open, a horrid yelp expelling from his lungs. But tears didn't leak from his eyes as they had when they first started this training. He remembered that afterwards Longbottom would sit in a chair, silent tears leaking down his cheeks. When Draco had cried after his torture training with the Dark Lord, his father would usually bring his hand down swiftly across his face. He wondered why that hurt after the cruciatus curse, but it did. In some ways it hurt more. Draco didn't mind when his people cried. In a way, he believed it helped release the tension, establish control. Apparently it worked because Longbottom didn't cry anymore. And afterwards he could just go on about his day. Not that this happened much anymore... not for months... not until he needed to show Hermione.

"Please Malfoy!" She slammed her palm over her mouth, eyes wide. He imagined she'd never expected to beg him for something. He was surprised that she was still so concerned with Longbottom's well being after he'd called her a mudblood. But he'd done research on Hermione Granger. Her history with things like SPEW, her work with the Order. She was always acting the hero.

He stopped the curse. Longbottom lay on the ground, his hands gripping his arms, but no emotion could be read in his face.

"Do you want me stop, Granger?"

"Of course I want you to stop, you sick psychopath."

He let out a sigh. Draco wasn't a psychopath... at least he didn't think he was... he just liked things, needed things in order. Needed the world numbered. Exact. Sliced into categories. Clean. That didn't make him crazy.

"There is only one way I will stop," said Draco.

"You can hurt me instead."

He turned to take in her wide eyes, brimming with tears. This was the weakness he had to take away from her. It would get her killed. It was for her own good.

This is for your own good, Draco.

"That's not what I want." He found himself reaching out to touch her cheek. She shuddered away from him. His hand dropped back down to his side. "I gave you a wand for a reason. You need to learn to get past your feelings. Use them instead of letting them use you. Curse him."

"No! Never! I'd rather die."

Draco had no intention of doing it, but he'd learned the right way to look. Blank eyes, smooth face, unmoved body. A part of you had to believe you could do it. If it were necessary. "Would you rather he die?" His wand pointed at Longbottom again, whose face twitched with the slightest flash of fear.

She stood there, trembling. "You sick, you awful... how could - you're..."

"Control it," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Control the pain he feels. Only when you can do that will I stop."

Her eyes narrowed but she didn't react.

"If that's what you choose." Draco lifted his wand again. "Crucio."

Once again, Longbottom let out a horrific yell.

"Stop." Tears leaked from her eyes, poured down her cheeks and splashed on the floor. One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four. Like a nighttime melody. "I'll do it."

Hermione lifted her wand.

A/N: Thanks for reading. We get to see a little more of what's going on inside Draco's head, his growing fascination with Hermione and a bit of his intentions. Hope you liked this! Please review.