Thanks, always for all your support guys. If you didn't love it, I wouldn't really be inclined to write it. To all of those I can't reply to personally – hugs! I appreciate every kind word. Here's the next installment, which I'm nervous about. This is sort of my hinge point in the story, Lily's in trouble, and Hermione does something desperate.

LCailan

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hermione trembled. He was gone, and she was left in the empty, shadowy hallway on her hands and knees, trying to pick up shards and pieces of crystal glass with hands that would not stop shaking. Twice, she had to stop, to gather her wits, to try to keep from completely falling apart.

Whore.

The voices of the others in the alienage whispered in the deep recesses of her tormented mind, making her feel even worse. They had all suspected, gossiped wondered, and now-

She felt violated, and wondered if any of the others at the alienage would know, sense what had happened between herself and Draco Malfoy. It wasn't like they needed any fodder to whisper about her, but now it wasn't…

She shuddered, feeling tears prickling the edges of her eyes, as she fought against the slightly achy feeling in her lower half.

He kissed me!

The thought was terrifying, and yet in some dark way, alluring. She knew now, what it would take, what he would demand of her when the time came. She had known some of the others, the ones that watched her, leered at her, licking their lips and biding their time, used the other Muggle-born girls for their lewd sex games. She hadn't thought Malfoy-

And why did I hold him in higher esteem? Why did I even want to trust him, even for a fraction of a second? He's just like they are! He's a horrible, hateful little prat, and I should never have-

Even though, the alternative was Pansy Parkinson.

Tears slipped down Hermione's flushed, oversensitive face, and she held back the sobs, in case he was there, waiting for her around one of the nearby corners where she wouldn't see him, those gray eyes boring into her, making her feel confused and overwhelmed. Hermione stood, unable to finish the task assigned to her, and she wrapped her shaking arms around her body protectively, her hot tears increasing.

She still felt his hands, impossibly delicate and beautiful, as they had tugged with an intense deliciousness at the hair that now lay messily around her shoulders. And his mouth had been so…so…completely consuming, so that she had succumbed with only a whimper.

I can't possibly think that this was…

His kiss…meant to punish, to subdue – but-

It had been so organically real to Hermione, so emotional, so…

Rape, the only sensible part of her mind whispered. It's nearly rape, and you're trying to pass this off as something else? Are you mental, Hermione?

She let out a whimper, and then pressed her forehead against the window which overlooked the gardens below. What usually had been a beautiful sight for Hermione seemed somewhat dulled and lackluster now. She couldn't quite get the image of Draco's desire filled eyes out of her mind. And now, she was flooded with recollections of those same eyes watching her…

Watching her while she cooked breakfast, and while she silently defied Astoria. Watching her as she tended to the garden from his lofty perch on the fourth floor bedroom he shared with his wife. And the looks she caught him giving her when he thought she wasn't looking.

He wants me.

Such a narcissistic thought would never have crossed Hermione's mind in the past, but this was different, this was a world where everything was turned on its head, all wrong was right, and all right was…well, right didn't exist anymore.

But she knew what she felt when those eyes raked over her body; she knew what she saw in those pewter eyes when she allowed herself to look into them. She knew what desire looked like, after all, there had been Ron…

I had almost no time with Ron!

Her heart twisted with loss and heartbreak, thinking back on the moments she had shared with her late husband, moments of sighs in the darkness, and fumbled, uncertain touches. Those times had been few, and Hermione was aware that her experience with men was limited, so that if Malfoy evoked any feelings within her she wouldn't be able to understand-

He wants me.

Her mind whispered to her once more, that same, twisted and yet…strangely empowering thought. Hermione paused, allowing her mind to fully grasp the implications of what she knew, even if Malfoy would never admit it.

Me. The way he watches me…

She wondered if that was why he had saved her life that summer day months ago. Perhaps, it had been his plan all along. To possess her in every way possible, even though it meant coupling with a Mudblood. Maybe he was as sadistic as the whole lot of them, playing some loathsome game with her until he grew bored. She knew what happened to those girls who offered themselves, knew how far she had yet to fall, if they broke her completely. She couldn't give in! Her stomach lurched crazily for a few seconds and Hermione could only manage a shallow breath.

I don't understand! How was it I kissed him back when I should have pushed him away? How is it I'm still thinking about him now, in spite of the fact that he's the vilest man I know?

She wiped her tear-filled eyes with the backs of her hands and took in a shuddered breath. It was this new life, the new struggles, and the fact that she was so damned lonely, that was all.

Well, I'm done with that. I'm done hoping in him. He's only out for himself, isn't he?

With somewhat steely determination, Hermione returned to the mess on the floor, fighting with herself, and trying to forget the feelings that Draco Malfoy had brought out in her. She couldn't cave to him – she wouldn't. She had just finished with the last remnants of glass when she heard him behind her. Footsteps, a hesitation, another few steps, and then silence – but she knew he was there.

"Granger."

Hermione felt her world spin for a moment when he uttered her name. For some reason, now it was different. She wouldn't turn around, willed herself to stare straight ahead, seeing nothing.

He is the enemy. He is the one man whom I shouldn't ever have trusted, hoped in.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy."

She was poised to fight back this time, in case he had returned to finish what he had started, and her heart was rattling inside of her like a broken thing. Her voice held a quaver, in spite of her efforts to be strong. But he didn't move – nothing did – Hermione couldn't even hear him breathing. In some ways, this was worse, she realized.

Then he spoke, the sound small and choked.

"I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

Then, he was gone, and Hermione turned just in time to see his back disappear down the stairs, leaving her alone once more. The fight faded from her, her limbs went slack, her body nearly sinking to the ground and her breath leaving her in one whoosh.

He had sounded lost. Like someone who would never find his way.

He sounded the way she felt.

Hermione rushed to the kitchen, sank down into one of the large wooden chairs, and wept.

How much more can I take before I break completely?

Draco stared down at the small missive and then back up at Pansy Parkinson's stupid, fucking simper.

"What is this, Parkinson? You know, this alienage isn't a one stop shop! You can't just…"

He stared back down at the letter in his hand, willing himself to not react, even though his stomach had soured and gone leaden. He fought with the feeling of despondency as his brow furrowed.

The day before had proven to be one of the worst and most confusing days of his life since Voldemort's takeover of the Ministry. And it had nothing to do with his life, his work, or politics. No, it had everything to do with one particular Mudblood that had somehow gotten under his skin.

He had seen the fear in her eyes, and in spite of the passion between them, and the fact one some purely physical level, she had reacted to him, still, he knew she didn't want him.

For fuck's sake! What is wrong with me? I've got to get myself together. A Mudblood? Granger? If someone new, I'd never be able to show my face again. I can't possibly be feeling this way! It's madness!

It rocked Draco in ways he couldn't comprehend, and certainly couldn't explain away. And now, on top of that, he also had to deal with Pansy fucking Parkinson.

She stared at him, her expression of pure delight, eyes challenging him to tell her no. When he didn't speak, she opened her mouth.

"It's not like others haven't done it," she told him with mild satisfaction. "You know about Flint and me, don't you? I'm sure he's told you rather colorful stories of his…conquests?"

Draco's face was a pale scowl. She continued, studying her nails with feigned interest.

"I've taken to bed with him more than once, you know."

Draco felt slightly ill at the thought. As if her announcing such a thing made her more desirable.

"And he tells me of all those stupid little Mudbloods who think that their bodies will help them get out of this place, save their lives. They're here for our use, Draco. So why not?"

She focused her piercing gaze on his face.

"After all," she drawled, "Your wife handpicked my favorite little Mudblood, didn't she? If you ask me, that's quite the coincidence, no?"

Draco hated her – he hated her voice, the way she spoke, the smug look on her ugly, dog face. Hated her more than he could recall hating anyone, ever.

"No one asked you, Parkinson."

Each word was a venomous assault.

Pansy gave him a pleasant-looking smile that masked her obvious hatred.

"Are you sleeping with her, Draco? Is that what it is? I know you feel something for her, or she would be dead already. She's different, isn't she? You think you can hide something like that?"

Her voice was smooth, like sugar mixed with a lethal dose of cyanide. Pansy's eyes flickered over Draco's face, and he felt like he was being studied not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. She was right, he realized. Pansy knew him, and it complicated matters. A whole hell of a lot. His eyes narrowed.

"You're bloody sick. I wouldn't touch her!"

The lies poured from his lips, and he wondered if somehow, Parkinson knew. She smirked, watching him closely.

"No? Even though the others are doing it? What makes you so much better?"

Draco's eyes blazed in a white face of nothingness.

"I'm not discussing this with you. I'm married, and happily so. I wish you'd get that, you oafish, thick bitch."

It angered him even further to see her smirk.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste, is there, Draco? At any rate, Astoria got her pick of the alienage, so now it's my turn."

Her eyes gleamed with feigned innocence, and Draco decided he wanted to put that light out forever. His voice nearly cracked when he spoke.

"What could you possibly want with Lily Potter? She's four years old. She can hardly work, and she's already terrified."

Pansy gave him a cold smile.

"I need a child handy. You know, to do…things around the house. And Flint is always looking to experiment. You know how he is with those Dementors. To him, it's one jolly game!"

Once more she wore the look of complete satisfaction, and Draco wished he could curse that look off her face for good. He'd have enjoyed it, too. Swallowing behind gritted teeth, he spoke.

"You'll leave Lily Potter alone. She's too young to go anywhere, she's not a Mudblood, and she stays with her mother. You want a Mudblood? Take your pick, but I won't have you terrifying any children to make your sick, little point."

Pansy laughed. It sounded like bells on a clear day, and that made it even more frightening.

"Well, what you want me to do doesn't matter. I don't want a Mudblood. I want my pick of the alienage. I want Lily Potter. Collateral, so to speak."

Her eyes flashed hatefully in his direction as she continued, her tone tight.

I'll have her, or I'll make a stink. You can't saunter around this place acting like King. This isn't Hogwarts anymore, Malfoy. It's London, and it's my alienage, not yours. You don't run this place, I do."

Draco turned away from her, lifting his head high, and trying not to completely loose his cool. Control.

Control.

"Collateral?"

I need control.

He didn't turn around, even when she started to speak.

"Yes. You give me Granger, and I give you Potter. If you keep Granger from me, I get the little girl. It's quite simple, isn't it? Especially since you don't care about that disgusting little Mudblood. Or so you say."

There was a nasty challenge in her voice, and she dared him reply. Draco had no real choice.

"You think this is going to hurt me, Parkinson? That somehow, I have some attachment to Granger? You're wrong, and you're sick."

The words were venomous.

He stalked out of the office, carefully keeping up his composure until he was well away from the alienage and the horrors within it. Shuddering, the boy inside him struggled to the surface, and he felt a burning sensation behind his eyes, one he hadn't felt in a long time.

Tears?

Merlin. Would he be reduced to tears over something like this? Parkinson's words rang in his hears like a cacophony of sound, melding with his erratic heartbeat and labored breathing. Fists clenched he stood up straight, trying to gather himself, to think of something, anything besides the mess he had gotten himself into.

If I hadn't taken her in, if I had let her die that first night…

But it was too little, too late, wasn't it?

Knee deep in shit, Draco.

He swallowed the tears that were still threatening the edges of the wall of calm he was desperately trying to cling to.

He didn't know what to do.

The following morning dawned clear and crisp, with a hazy yellow sun that played hide and go seek behind fluffy marshmallow clouds. Hermione had spent the morning with Lily and Ginny, valiantly ignoring the nasty comments from her bedmates, using Justin as a shield, for the women were never as bad when he was around. As usual, she gave Ginny and Lily her meager breakfast, and then prepared to meet Malfoy. On this day, nothing was out of the ordinary, and as she set out across the courtyard towards the entrance to the alienage, a light breeze ruffled her curls. The road leading away from the enclosure was all too familiar now, for it was where she always waited for Malfoy. But even in the face of such an ordinary day, it felt strange, surreal - for when she thought of him, she could only recall the taste of his mouth, and it rendered a cold, paralyzing fear within her.

When will it happen? When will he force me to-?

Hermione heard the familiar crack as he apparated behind her, and whirled to face him.

He did not stare at her with his usual indifference – his eyes were not cold and gray like a frozen pond in winter. His lips – sensual lips, she knew now – were not twisted down in a scowl. Hermione saw fear – and she knew it, because she felt and saw it each day. She saw Malfoy fighting against it, trying to remain nonchalant, wearing a transparent cloak of blasé.

"What?"

Her utterance of that single word was too tight, too strained to be normal, and her breath caught in her throat. But his reply was what turned an ordinary day into a living nightmare.

"It's Pansy Parkinson. Lily is in trouble."

Hermione's heart stopped, then shattered, and she reached forward, stumbling towards the rough stone building nearest to her, hoping that her legs would hold her up. Behind her, through the ringing in her ears, she could hear him, talking to her, calling her name, but nothing registered.

Lily's in trouble. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no…

Her hand fumbled for the building, connected, her knuckles scraping harshly against the mortar as she sought stability, something, anything to keep her standing. Her eyes filled with hot, bitter tears. It was at his hand that she found her bearings, and she managed to turn around to face him.

"What happened?"

A hoarse whisper was all she could manage. But there was nothing except his pale, somber expression, and gray eyes capable of heated passion, now cold as they gazed on her.

"You were her nasty little project, Granger," he ground out, and she saw his jaw clenching, tightening with each word.

He yanked his hand from hers in one vicious move.

"And when I put you out of harm's way, she took it personally."

Hermione thought her heart would burst; it was hammering with such vehemence.

"But…Lily? She hasn't done anything…"

It was impossible to speak, and still he wore the infuriating, blank stare. When he spoke, it was mechanical, empty.

"A blood traitor for a Mudblood, Granger. She wants to hurt me. She wants to destroy you. She's going to take Lily and I don't know-"

Panic welled up from the heart of her, a wave that destroyed everything in its path, causing her heart, her breath, everything – to stop. For a moment, Hermione felt faint, felt the darkness advancing on her, and she felt her heart skittering out of control, the sobs loud in her own ears, mingling with the ringing already there, and Malfoy's insistent but unrecognizable words.

She reached for him, her fingers biting into his flesh, pressing, squeezing in her panic, and try as he might, he wasn't able to pull away.

"You have to stop her!"

The words were a mangled mess of half whispers, uttered from between white lips peeled back to form a painful grimace. He took a step back, against the wall, opening his mouth, sensing her utter despair which was matched only by his own bitterness and confusion, and he whispered in return.

"I don't know if there's anything I can do."

And on that brilliantly sunny early fall morning, with the promise of a beautiful day, Hermione Granger Weasley snapped, broke completely. And the only one to witness it was Draco Malfoy.

Draco stared, his eyes widening when he saw all color drain from Granger's face, so what was left seemed a stark white reminder of despair and shattered hope. He couldn't speak, couldn't offer anything to ease her complete devastation, and as he watched, tears streamed down her face and she began to quiver, first in pain and then in white-hot rage. And he was only half aware of the softly keening pain that her grip on his arm rendered, for she refused to let go, clamping down like a vise.

"Granger-"

She cut him off instantly by tugging on his hand with such force he came away from the wall and stumbled.

"No…no, no no, Draco, no…"

The sound of his name on her lips was distorted, strange in his ears, a half whisper, half moan. He didn't know if she had ever said his name before, and the sound of it on her lips startled and moved him. Those fingers dug into his flesh even deeper. He winced and tried to pry himself away to no avail.

"Look – Granger, you have to listen to me-"

Her eyes were distant, strangely disconnected from the rest of her, as if she were far away.

"No, no, no…no NO NO NO!"

Each word was louder, more pronounced and he knew it was only a matter of moments before someone noticed them, heard her animalistic wails and then-

"Granger!"

His voice was a hiss of warning, his eyes flickering to the courtyard nearby as he held his breath hoping no one had yet noticed what was happening.

"Shut up for Merlin's sake!"

He yanked his arm away from her claw-like grip, feeling her fingernails ripping as he did so, his blood crimson against pale skin. Staring with horror at the wound she had inflicted, he glared at her.

"If you don't stop this, they'll kill you!"

When her hand came up to smack him, fingers still curled like claws, he grabbed her forearm, bringing her against himself, her small body burning hotter than it should have.

"Do you understand me, Granger? They'll murder you! They don't care who they destroy, don't you know that? You're nothing but rubbish to them, and they won't hesitate. Will you shut the bloody hell up?"

He could hear his own panic, for Draco didn't know what he would do if they DID kill her, but not even this seemed to rouse her from whatever had possessed her. She was more animal now than woman, her eyes glazed with tears and rage, her hair a glorious mess of chestnut and gold around her shoulders.

"NO! Let me go, Malfoy! LET ME GO!"

Twisting violently in his arms, she tried to fight him, biting into his shoulder, screeching like a banshee, tears running down her pale face in torrents, the sobs wracking her body so that she shook with them.

And to his complete horror, he felt his own eyes filling with tears as she wailed, suddenly aware of what a horrid place the world was now. She was sobbing, her words tumbling over each other in her panic.

"You don't understand! G-ginny did everything for me! She took care of me, and sh-she is the only f-family I have! Oh, I can't- I can't let this happen to Lily! I-ca-can't after what…what happened to the boys! How-how can this happen? Don't you s-see? It's m-my fault! MY FAULT!"

The wail became so high-pitched and screechy that the worst happened – Draco could see it had roused the attention of one of the officers, who moved with purpose across the dusty courtyard, as the others watched him.

Bloody hell! Oh, Merlin's sodding ass! What the fuck am I going to do now? They'll destroy her, they'll tear her apart, they'll-

It was Mulciber who approached, and this was unfortunate, for he happened to be the worst of the lot. Draco realized he had to act, and he had nearly no time to do so. Without thinking, he tore at Granger's arm so hard, she screeched in tortured pain and tumbled to the ground. She stared up at him dumbly then, a picture of complete destruction, tears still rolling thickly down the sides of her flushed face.

"Silencio!"

He hissed the word, his wand pointed at her and then, all was silent.

"Everything all right, Sir?"

Draco stepped between Granger's fallen body and Mulciber's view.

"Indeed."

He hoped that his voice did not betray him.

"Just one of those annoying Mudbloods, as usual. I'll have her disposed of shortly."

He could see Mulciber stopping, and his consideration of the situation before he shrugged.

"Just making sure. I thought I heard a commotion."

Draco offered a tight grimace that he hoped passed for a smile.

"She won't be making any more noises. Rest assured. Carry on."

Seemingly satisfied, Mulciber turned and wandered back the way he had come.

Draco stared down at Granger then, his eyes wide. She looked back, mutely, but her heartbreak was evident in each breath she took, each endless tear that dripped from her chin, trembles that wracked her body. The only sound now was their labored breathing, and Draco reached out to help her, his own fingers wrapping around hers in an unsteady grip.

I'm shaking, he realized.

Draco saw her wince as she stood with his assistance, and moving quickly, he tucked her behind the building they had been standing by, so that here, they were alone. For a moment, everything around them was the picture of calm, and he found his voice, though it was tinged with fear.

"Do you want to die, Granger?"

He lifted his wand.

"Finite."

Hermione felt him lift the spell from her, and she swallowed once, twice, three times before finding her voice. When she tried to speak, she was so drained from her outburst, and in such pain from where he had yanked on her arm, she could hardly make a sound. In the end, she only whimpered.

Hermione had no real choice, she knew. The man before her was her only hope. Again. What a world it was, where in it, Draco Malfoy was her savior. She turned her eyes, which swam with fear and pleading, towards his.

"You have to help her. Please, Draco."

She searched the lines of his face, gazed into his eyes with all the pleading she could muster, saw the fear and the uncertainty. She saw that he had shed tears. Without wanting to, she slipped her icy fingers through his.

"I know you can. I'm begging you."

For the first time, Hermione was aware of the weakness in him, of the flicker of heat in the depths of his slate gray eyes, the disgust mixed with the helplessness.

"I'll do anything."

Swallowing back disgust, Hermione reached out, placing her hands on his chest, fingers splayed, running them up around his neck.

"Anything. You said- you said yesterday, about submitting. I will. I will submit, completely, in every way. I swear. If you want me, I am yours."

She closed her eyes, fighting the fear and the repulsion she felt, and then pressed her lips against his, and kissed him. At first she felt nothing, it was as if she was kissing stone, and she began to panic, her heart hammering within her.

Kiss me back, you stupid, pathetic piece of trash! Kiss me back!

She grew more insistent, her fingers delving into his thin, blond strands, willing herself to forget where she was and what she was doing. Her mouth and body were flush against his, and Hermione willed him to react. For a few breathless moments there was nothing, and then suddenly she felt him tremble in her arms, and give in, his lips melting against hers willingly. Hermione felt a glorious second of victory, in which she almost believed she could tempt him into doing what she wanted him to. It didn't matter that she had offered her body in return, only that Lily be safe. As he kissed her, she ran her hands down his body, along the thin, muscular planes, trying to un tuck his trousers from his shirt, to show him how serious she was, how much she was willing to do.

"Whatever you want," she muttered against his heated mouth – and she tasted mint, smoke and something intoxicating that was Draco himself. Struggling against her senses, Hermione reminded herself that this was for Lily, and it didn't matter that he was so-

"Fuck, Granger. Get away from me!"

She felt herself stumbling backwards as he shoved her, the same feeling of coldness that had left her bereft only a day before. His eyes flashed in her direction with unbridled passion, and his lips, flushed from her abuse, twisted into a sneer.

"Are you mental? I can't help you! You think offering yourself like a wanton slut is going to help? I'm not Marcus Flint!"

His voice quavered with desire and shock, his eyes wide in horror. Still, she came at him, reaching to touch his face, stroke it against the back of her hand, her eyes an open book of determination and the flash of one desperate.

If not Draco, then no one, she realized. If not Draco, then Lily will die.

"You can," she whispered.

His eyes closed against the touch of her fingers.

"I can't! Don't you see? I can't! It's not my place, this is not your world anymore Granger! I can't save you or Lily! I can't even…I can't even be my own salvation!"

A sob, as she shook her head in disbelief, her voice breaking under the strain of her terror.

"You mean you won't!"

He found his ground, moving away from her, the touch of her, the sodding sight of her.

"You're right, I won't!"

Hermione fell to her knees, her face flushed with desire and shame. What had she just done? How far had she fallen? And still, Lily could not be saved. Burning tears of pain and anger ran down her face.

"I HATE YOU!"

Her scream echoed around them, and as she watched him through a hot haze of tears, he yanked the sleeve of his shirt, slightly mottled with the blood she had drawn earlier.

"I'm not your savior, Granger! I'm a Death Eater!"

He jabbed at the mark on his arm, smeared with blood, his expression ripe with disgust. He shook his head, trembling violently as he stumbled away from her, eyes wide. His words were whispers of regret.

"And don't you forget it!"

Hermione crumbled to the ground, cradling herself tightly, sobbing until she could no longer breathe. And he was gone. Gone, and she was alone.