All associated with the Harry Potterverse rightly belongs to JK Rowling, not me.


Chapter Eighteen: The Visitor


"What are you doing here?"

This wasn't a question Draco was used to asking. Usually he was the one being asked this but now it was his turn as he entered the sitting room, still clad in his pajamas, his chest bare.

Blaise grinned at him from the opposite side of the room where he had settled himself quite comfortably.

"You're looking well."

"As always," Draco said. "But all the same-why are you here?"

It wouldn't do to tell the truth. News of Potter, Weasley, and Granger's disappearances had rocked the castle in the late evening not two days before. He had been surprised with everyone else, but was suspicious of Granger's the most, as Draco's plans from the year before had never come to fruition. Blaise had immediately known what must have happened, though not what led to it. He had been sure she was safe at Hogwarts, but when her dormitory proved uninhabited and she was not found anywhere in the castle, he had been wrong. He had heard and seen everyone's worry and remembered what she had told him the year before, and his insides coiled with worry though he tried to remind himself it was none of his business.

He had hastened here as soon as he was able, taking cover under guise of detention with Snape, who had supplied him his portkey. It had been on his mind for days. He had to set it right. Had Draco captured her at last? And if so, what would he do? What could he do?

Blaise raised his palms into the air, shrugging. "I haven't heard from you for days. Thought you might be ill."

Draco smirked. "Not ill, just newly married."

Blaise started. His stomach sank horribly.

So he was right. Poor Granger...

"Congratulations are in order, then. How did it happen?"

"A stroke of luck," Draco said. "But it doesn't matter. She is mine and I am content with that."

Granger's voice floated back to him. "He'll do worse than this."

He looked away, pretending to fiddle with his sleeve. He felt ill.

"What a union that must have been," Blaise remarked.

Instantly he wished he had said something else. The image of Granger's marked neck flashed before him. Her terrified tears. If she had been captured, and if Draco had claimed her like he so wanted, he hoped at least she had been unconscious. He looked at his friend casually, hoping not to betray his own feelings, the uneasy revelation that his friend was a rapist. He hadn't wanted to face it, even with Granger's confirmation. And this was all his fault...

"I'll not give you details, if that's what you're after."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. In between checking on Hermione and making sure the House Elves were making lunch and that Hermione would have everything she needed, he hadn't had the time to fix his hair, which was still messy from sleep. He usually was an early riser but that day he had chosen to sleep in; the contentment and satisfaction of sleeping with his bride in his arms had prompted him to sneak in a few more hours of rest.

His growling stomach had woken him sometime later, however, so he carefully left the sleeping girl in his bed and made his way to the kitchens, where he had ordered a large breakfast to be made for both him and his wife, but she had slept through it. Worried, he had checked on her quite frequently throughout the day, but there was nothing wrong with her. Aside from the obvious of course. He knew she would need time to heal properly since he had handled her quite roughly the night before.

A stupid grin began forming on his face and he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent it. That would be all the incentive Blaise would need to make assumptions on what had happened and badger him about it until he finally told him everything.

Blaise, meanwhile, was thinking the opposite.

Tread carefully, Blaise told himself. If you give yourself away he will be angry, and he isn't likely to forgive easily. You don't know what he could do.

"So will I get to see the blushing bride at all? Is she well?" Blaise asked suddenly, looking around as though expecting to find her in a corner. "Or have you gone and locked her in a cage so she won't run away?"

"I don't need a cage," Draco said simply. "I've given her something far better."

"Then where is she?" Blaise asked, fighting to not sound accusatory, but merely curious.

The tall blonde frowned. "She's been sleeping all day. Hasn't eaten anything."

Who could think to eat when in a situation like this?

"What does she think of all this?"

"The same as before, but tenfold." Draco envisioned her face, wet with tears and bright with her rage as he had attacked her. The pained moans she'd made when he'd pressed his palm over her mouth once he'd tired of her screams, her blood hot and thick on his fingers. What should he expect when she awoke? More hysterics or a calm fury? He was itching to see her again.

Blaise was frowning. Draco asked him what was wrong.

"What about Potter and Weasley?"

"What about them?" Draco asked indifferently.

"They've gone and disappeared from Hogwarts, around the same time you took Granger. The whole school caused a bloody ruckus over it all-I suppose I thought they wouldn't have abandoned her like that."

"More fool them. They wanted to keep her safe there at the school but like the willfull creature she is she went after them. Makes things easier for me, too-wherever they are I doubt they know she's missing yet."

"What will you do when they find out?"

Draco's expression was pure contempt.

"I'll stay right here and enjoy my wife. They deserted her when she needed them. It'll give me pleasure to tell them they might as well have given me their blessing when they left her behind."

"You're not going to give her back, then?"

"No. Never."


In the midst of their catching up Hermione sat huddled in the far corner of the bedroom, clutching her knees. It had been approximately a half hour since she had woken. There was no clock in the room, so she had counted the time herself. The room had darkened while she had been unconscious; she guessed it might have been around six p.m, but who knew if she was right? Perhaps she had slept into the next day and the sun had not come out yet. At most she had been here two days, but she wouldn't know for sure unless she got Malfoy to tell her.

At the thought of his name, her entire body convulsed in disgust. Upon waking she had discovered most of her wounds had been healed and she had been bathed, her skin looked well-scrubbed and all traces of blood, semen and dirt were gone. But she could still feel him. She could still feel his hands wrapping around her wrists, around her legs as he moved her broken body around for his pleasure. If she stayed still enough she could almost feel the impact of his hips pounding against hers, could almost feel his hot breath washing over her feverish skin. For Merlin's sake, she could still smell him on her. Every breath made her want to choke.

There were light bruises on her body where the magic had not been able to fully heal, and it still hurt to walk. She had lay in a groggy state of awareness upon waking, but once she realized she was on that bed where only a few hours ago he had just raped her, she had scrambled off the bed after covering herself as best as she could with a sheet, and had frantically searched the room for something to defend herself with when he came back.

That search had proved fruitless-had taken care to remove anything she might use to her advantage. Although she had come across a pair of metal shears in the bottom of one of his drawers, she found that she could not pick them up. Her first panicked thought had been that he had drugged her and that she was hallucinating, but then remembered what he had said about the ring and she had slammed the drawer shut in a cold fury, and once she had somewhat calmed down she had began to wonder how much time had passed since she had been taken.

Two days. Maybe more?

Harry and Ron were long gone by now.

She drew in a shaky breath and clasped her hands more tightly around her knees. It wouldn't do to think about that just now. Not now. Not now.

Her palms had grown clammy but she didn't notice until they slipped apart. One of her hands fell to the inside of her thigh. Automatically, she jerked it back to her knee, but not before feeling a small twinge of pain from the sudden contact.

Warily, she pulled back the fabric and inspected the area. There, high up on her inner thigh was a bite mark. She shuddered again. It looked fresh. Gingerly, she pressed the pad of her finger against it, and winced at the second dart of pain. Rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, she slammed her knees shut again and took another deep breath.

So he had taken her virginity. So what. She wouldn't lie to herself-she had been saving it, be it for marriage or someone special. In fact, Harry's little gift to her after the ball had made her realize she wanted to give it to him. What he had done for her, to her, had been the final piece to her puzzle. She was finally able to believe that she loved him. She still loved him, in spite of what happened after. It wasn't his fault she was here-it was her own for being such a fool. But now it had been taken from her in the most horrible way.

Her nails dug into her flesh and her breathing quickened.

It's okay, it's okay, she reassured herself. What happened does not make you a bad person. You're a fool, yes, but you are not a bad person. You're not a virgin anymore. So what? Big deal.

But she could still feel him.

The evidence lay clear before her that she had been cleaned and healed, she could see her skin was pink and looked fresh, could smell the sweet fragrance of the product that had been used to clean her hair and body, but when she looked at herself, all she saw was dirt.

It was like she had slathered herself in paste and then rolled down a very muddy hill. Along her neck, between her thighs, she could still feel his lips on her skin, marking her with his saliva, with his teeth and tongue. It was so horrible she longed to be cut off from all her senses. Hermione began to rub at her skin, and when that gave no relief she began to scratch. Fiery red stripes arose on her arms, her legs and chest but that didn't help either. She didn't realize she was screaming until a loud CRACK! startled her out of her stupor.

For one wild moment she thought the House Elf that stood before her was Dobby, and her jaw dropped in disbelief. How did he find her? Was he going to help her?

"Dobby? Oh, Dobby," she whispered, eyes frantic. "Help me, please. Get me out of here!" She reached out to the poor creature, and realized her mistake immediately after.

"Bogg is not Dobby, Lady Malfoy. Bogg is Bogg, and Bogg does not know this Dobby." The elf croaked nervously, before taking a quick bow that let his great drooping ears graze the carpet. "Bogg is honoured to meet the new Lady Malfoy."

Hermione blushed scarlet. "I'm not-I'm not a Lady, and I'm not a Malfoy. My name is Hermione Granger."

The elf nodded at her statement and said nothing more. She could see the decided look in his eye-no doubt he would keep calling her Lady Malfoy. Had Malfoy put him up to this? Another loud CRACK made her jump and startled, she looked at the elf, who was approaching her with a pile of fabric in his arms.

"Master requested you wear this, my Lady." He made a motion as though asking her to stand.

Hermione balked.

Now he was dressing her?

"But what is that?" she asked, eyeing the bundle. It didn't look at all like jeans and a t-shirt, or even her Hogwarts uniform.

"It is clothes appropriate for the Lady of the Manor," the elf said, motioning for her to stand again.

"Well I told you I am not a Lady," Hermione said as evenly as she could, and ignoring the elf's protests, she ran for the door. Distantly, she heard the elf apparate away.

One of the first things she had done upon waking was to check the door. Naturally, it had been locked. Even though she knew it was pointless, she went to the door out of desperation and began to strike her fists against it, nearly wrenching off the doorknob with her hands as she tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge, and frustrated, she fell backwards in a heap, shaking with sobs. With all the force she could muster, she raised her leg and kicked the door as hard as she could repeatedly, waiting to hear it begin to splinter. Again and again and again she repeated the motion until her leg radiated with pain and she was almost out of strength. Breathing heavily, Hermione tried for one last kick. This one, she was certain, would be the one. Just as she began to bring her leg back to forcefully smash it into the door, she heard the lock turn and the door clicked open. Her leg dropped back down to the floor and she gaped at it for a moment before standing.

Cautiously, she made her way out of the room and into the wide corridor. The space was well-lit and beautifully decorated but there was only one thing on her mind: escape. There were so many doors-most of which were locked-but the only one she needed was the one that would take her outside. And in all honesty, she knew it was futile. She hadn't a clue what she would do once she got outside. But at the present, she felt she would be safer out there than inside the mansion. He could be anywhere right now; he could be waiting to pounce on her from behind one of these doors or even lurking behind her, waiting to steal her into the shadows. With that thought, she chanced a look behind her only to reveal nothing out of the ordinary. Shivering, she grasped the sheet about her more tightly and moved on.

She ghosted through many corridors and snuck through spacious, polished rooms, only after having made sure there were no occupants inside. The halls were lined with large windows covered with heavy drapes, but no matter how hard she tried to pull them apart to get a look outside, they would not budge. It was as though he had charmed them shut so she could not look out the window.

But why? She wondered. I've already been outside. Why would he want to keep me from looking out?

Voices cut through her thoughts and heart in throat she whirled around, half-expecting him to emerge from the drapes she had just tried to part.

Nothing.

The voices were still there, though, and that was the problem. There was more than one. Who was it, though? Careful not to make any noise, she followed the voices to their sources.


"Shouldn't you get going?" Draco asked irritably, scowling at his friend. He'd had enough of company for the day and was impatient to check on his wife.

"Alright, alright," Blaise stood, brushing off his dark suit. His eyes darted up. "But first I think you had rather teach your House Elves not to eavesdrop." He pointedly nodded towards the slightly open doors leading into the room, where they could just make out a slight figure darting past.

"That's my wife," Draco said sharply. He turned to Blaise. "Excuse me, if you will."

Blaise sat back down uneasily. Grinning, Draco bolted out of the room.


Oh Merlin, he saw me!

Her breathing was ragged though she tried to keep as quiet as she could as she fled through the many halls. She had taken a peep between the doors only to find Malfoy with his back to her talking to none other than Blaise Zabini. Though it had been silly of her, she had found herself hoping it would have been someone-anyone else. Someone who could help her, at least, but one look at him had made her turn pale-she had not forgotten her last encounter with him. The fear had glued her feet to the floor and in consequence she had stayed a fraction of a second too long, in which Blaise had caught her eye quite by accident, and like a startled deer, she fled just as Malfoy turned.

Just walking still hurt for her, so running was so much worse. She was certain that she would need crutches for the rest of her life; she had never run so much in so little time. Daily running was not a practice she was used to and after all the abuse she had put her legs through they felt like they were one step away from splintering into halves. All these horrible things happening right after each other-what was next? Would she ever be in peace? A fresh wave of pain from between her legs swept through her, and for a moment Hermione stumbled and almost dropped down to the floor.

The hall she had just turned into had a dead end. It was too late to turn back-he was after her. She could hear him calling out to her in a playful tone, which frightened her all the more.

"Come out, kitten! We've a guest!"

Choking back a sob, she flung open a door at random and hobbled through it. Seeing a staircase on the opposite side of the room, (just how big is this place?) she dashed for it just as he came through the door.

She wasn't even halfway up the stairs when he caught her. One foot had just landed on a step and suddenly there were hands around her hips and she was hoisted over his shoulder. Immediately she began to pound her fists on his broad back, kicking at his chest as best as she could. Draco grunted in pain at the blows and held her ankles together with a wandless spell, even as she began to scream.

"Let me go! Let me go, you demon! NO!"

Her sobs clamored around them in the spacious halls and yet he did nothing to silence them. Hanging upside down wasn't helping her condition, either. By the time he had come back to the sitting room where Blaise still sat, she was quite red in the face and had screamed herself hoarse.

And then she was sitting on his lap. He looked like he was holding back laughter, but his grip on her said different. She could hardly move under his hold, and when she tried to wriggle away, his hands tightened and he let out a harsh command.

"Stay."

Of course she didn't listen and tried to get up again, but discovered she could not move at all. Her feet were still bound together, her hands held the sheet around her but she was frozen by his magic.

"Not going to say hello, then, Granger?"

She jumped at the sound of Zabini's voice, and sent him a baleful glare through a veil of tears in her eyes. Zabini gave her a strange smile-it might have been forced but she had been deceived by him before. She caught his eyes wandering down to her body, barely covered by the ill-positioned sheet, which had slid down and parted open quite a bit when Malfoy had hauled her back. She flushed, unaware of the still-healing bruises that were on display along her back and chest. Regret coursed through her-she should have put that damn dress on. As if he had read her mind, Malfoy pulled the sheet up higher to cover her better.

"Your disappearance has got everyone panicking," Blaise said softly. "I suppose none of them know the happy news."

Hermione cringed and turned away, cheeks flaming red. This was not what she wanted to hear. Malfoy's hand rested on her back, rubbing circles into her skin and toying with locks of her hair.

"Are they looking for her?" Draco asked.

"Not as far as I know."

Fresh tears fell down her cheeks. As she wiped them away she realized with horror that Malfoy's hand had slid beneath the sheet and was now cupping the side of her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple lightly. Her breast felt more sensitive than usual and she tried to tear herself away to no avail-she still couldn't move.

"Don't touch me!" she snarled.

Malfoy gave her a cold look.

"Don't what, love? Don't do this?" He squeezed her breast gently, weighing it in his palm. Her body jerked at the touch and she twisted her head away, her face crumpled with disgust. He moved quickly so that she suddenly fell back against the side arm of the sofa they had been sitting on. He had positioned himself above her, his arms and legs trapping her underneath him.

"Leave, Blaise," Draco said, and Blaise got up at once. Hermione understood what was about to happen, and began to panic.

"No…no, please," she whimpered, looking at him beseechingly. "Not again, please!"

Neither of them noticed the look of utter helplessness on Blaise's face.

Her hands were free! But there was no escape, and she couldn't attack him, either. So her hands sought out the only protection she had-the sheet- and pulled it up more tightly around herself as he leaned in.

Their noses nearly touched, tears slid freely down the sides of her face as he sneered at her.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, pet. You've disobeyed me more than once now and I skipped the punishment because I thought I was too rough with you on our first night, but you're asking for it. And I've news, kitten. That was me holding back."

She turned away as he leaned further still to bury his face into her hair and locked eyes with Zabini, whose face now held no expression. Hermione screwed her eyes shut.

This isn't happening.

"I can take you right here, right now, and have Blaise watch," he spoke into her ear. "Or better yet, why not let him join in, if that will teach you not to disrespect your husband?"

"I thought you said you wanted me gone," Blaise sounded a little uneasy.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" Hermione cried, placing restraining hands against Malfoy's chest as he began to peel the sheet away from her skin. He stopped, and just as she thought he would move away he crushed his lips to hers. It was a punishing kiss-he kissed her to bruise, to mark, and she winced as he pushed his tongue into her mouth as though he would die if he didn't taste her that very second. When he finally pulled back she was gasping for breath, hiccuping through her tears. He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head to face him. Leaning in once more, he kissed her softly, his tongue tasting the tears that had gathered at the corners of her mouth.

"Never deny me," he whispered into her lips. Then he was gone and a stunned Hermione was left alone on the sofa as the two wizards left the room.


She didn't know how long she had stayed in that state, but according to the clock on the wall it was nine in the evening when Bogg appeared, presenting her with a large tray full of food.

"Master says Missus must eat," he implored, but she said nothing. Upon his insistence, she picked up a roll and broke it into small pieces, two of which she ate before he left. Once he had gone, she tossed the roll back onto the tray and touched nothing else save for a pitcher of water from which she drank directly. Malfoy and Blaise were gone; the silence in the room bore down heavily on her ears. There was nothing left for her to do but look around try to find out exactly where this Manor was located. That should not take too long, she reasoned. As she stood her legs shook but she set about her task quickly. I need to get out of here, she thought, wrapping her arms about herself.