"Awake again, Granger? I'm starting to think you sleep less than me."

"Hard to sleep when you're down the hall from a vampire." Hermione called back sarcastically, not looking up from her book. She paused for a second, repressing her thoughts of what Daphne had told her. There was a nervousness now that she knew how he became the monster he was. It was too intimate for her to know. She didn't want him to know that she knew. She barely wanted to know herself.

Hermione pictured the blonde haired, blue eyed boy, looking at his mother, scared. She didn't want to see it any longer, so she hid it away like she did for most of the painful things in her life.

He stood over her shoulder, and she could feel his gaze on the back of her head. She had gotten into the habit of wearing her hair down, after she had caught him fixating on her neck too often for her to feel comfortable with.

"We need to work on your Occlumency. You're due to see Voldemort tomorrow."

"I don't know if I can give him anything that won't compromise the Order, Hermione whispered softly.

"The supply cache outside of Liverpool."

Hermione turned around, shocked. "How do you…"

"Met with Potter today. They are planning a strategic ambush of some sorts. We'll see how that goes."

Hermione froze in place, but her mind went into overdrive. If Harry met with Draco and discussed what information to leak to Voldemort, then he knew exactly where she was and what was happening to her.

She crossed her arms, shielding herself in a way. "Why didn't you take me to see them?"

"Do you think I'm stupid? I bring you there, then they apparate away with you? I lose any leverage I have. On top of that, my little researcher is gone," Draco scoffed.

"How is he?" she asked.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? We don't have small talk, Granger. We get to business and then we leave. We're busy."

"Was he hurt? Did he look tired?"

"We all look tired. Have you seen yourself? You look like…""

She cut him off before he could spit another insult at her. "Okay, enough. Let's just start. The bank, yeah?"

Draco sat across from her, pulling out his wand. It almost made her flinch, with every time she had seen him cast a spell that caused the death of one of her allies. They spent several hours trying to get Hermione to show only the abandoned bank. But, as always, he managed to slip into a different memory, and then another, and another. It was mostly meaningless memories, small occurrences here and there. He didn't usually linger too long on them, but did make a notable pause on a memory she shared of her and her mother on a Sunday afternoon as they took a stroll.

They worked until Draco's arm started to burn.

"I can't," she whispered. Frustrated tears started to manifest, but she held back, not wanting to scream at him.

"You have to get this right, Granger. You have to get this fucking right."

"Or what? Goyle takes a few of my fingers?"

"No, something much worse," he said. But she didn't find it to be in any sort of threatening manner, it didn't seem like he was going to play a part in this at all.

"Malfoy, for the love of Merlin would you fucking tell me?"

"They have Cormac. They're going to torture him until you show him something."

Draco held out three large potions of calming in front of her. Hermione stared into his silver eyes, hoping he was playing a sick prank, that his morbid sense of humor was just at play. But the way he was looking right at her lips, dead and lifeless, she knew he was serious. There wasn't a spark of interest in his eye or the stupid smirk plastered on his lips. It was cold.

There weren't any other options for her.

She drank all three in quick succession. The peppermint flavor coating her mouth. Hermione thought it might have tasted good if it weren't for the horrors that always followed it. Peppermint, to her, was now tainted. No longer would she enjoy a nice cup of peppermint tea on a cold winter morning. The taste was now an association with pain and hurt. It couldn't serve as something comforting, it just reminded her of war.

Hermione thought that it was strange to make something that made someone feel so good taste this way. Like it was tempting you to take it and keep you wanting more. Her arms started to tingle, as if feathers were brushing against her skin. She looked at her captor, the monster in front of her. Cloaked in black, from the rubber in his boots up to the neck. It was once ago where she feared him, and now she wouldn't have cared if he tore her throat out.

He conjured the emerald mask and silver mask over his face, and all she could see was the silver of his eyes and his pale pink lips.

A gloved hand reached for her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"Does it matter?" she asked back.

Draco grabbed her arm, she felt a slight pull, and with a crack, they were in the Death Chamber.

There seemed to be more people sitting on the steps surrounding the arena than normal. Hermione heard their jeers towards her, calling her filth, spitting in her direction. She just closed her eyes, feeling the hum of the stone dias reverberating through the floor. There in front of it all was Volemort, with Greggory Goyle at his side.

And in front of the pair, on his knees, was Cormac. He was sickly pale and looked as if he had been beaten badly over the course of a few days. His left eye was swollen and his nose was bloody. The warm fuzz over Hermione's brain prevented her from going into a frenzied rage.

"Cormac? Can you hear me?" Hermione asked as they moved closer.

Draco squeezed her arm gently, "His mind is gone, Granger. It got wiped as he was taken away."

Despite all of the potions swirling in her system, her hands began to shake. Hermione's body was physically reacting, even if her mind wasn't. Draco brought her next to Cormac and she fell to her knees alongside him. Her hand reached for his, but he recoiled at her touch. It felt as if he was a stranger, a scared boy just wanting to go home.

"Listen here, mudblood," Goyle said. "If you don't let the Dark Lord into your mind, I'm gonna start cutting off his fingers cause the vampire won't let me touch yours."

Goyle lifted up Cormac's hand, and without even batting an eye, sliced off his pinky in one quick motion. Cormac screamed, he screamed for his mother, if he even knew who she was at this point.

Before he could let out another wail, Voldemort was in her head, laying seeds that would grow into horrific images and disturbed sounds. Hermione heard another distant scream for Cormac, and she scrambled for the shelf of her memories. It felt shaky, like it would topple over at any second while she looked for one specific one.

The bank. He just needs the bank.

Another scream

And another, and another.

Her focus was on her memories, the books she tried so hard to hide away. It was stacking a house of cards with more being added to a pile. There was too much, it was going to fall.

"You better hurry, mudblood. He's only got so many fingers left," Goyle cackled.

Hermione let three memories go. The first was a lunch she had with Harry shortly after the start of the war. They discussed plans about trying to reclaim Hogwarts and where they had hidden supplies. The next was her conversation with Moody about the logistics of blowing Azkaban to pieces. The last, the cherry on top, was the current supply cache. It was filled to the brim with canned goods, potion supplies, wands, anything one could need to win the war.

Hermione saw the sick look on Voldemort's face as she came to. "Very good, mudblood. You are useful."

Cormac's scream drew Hermione's attention to him. Her blank stare watched as he writhed in pain. He was completely covered in blood, without fingers, and beaten. Noticing her watching, Goyle began to cut deep into Cormac's arm, making him beg to stop.

"I did what you wanted, stop hurting him."

Another cut into his cheek.

"He's hurting, please stop hurting him," Hermione pleaded in a monotone voice, her hands starting to shake even more.

Draco left her side and walked towards Goyle and Cormac. Hermione blinked for a second and heard a snapping noise that would have made her vomit if not for the three calming draughts in her system. She saw Draco's hand twist her friend's head abruptly, breaking his neck. Cormac's body fell to the stone floor.

"No…" Hermione whispered. She crawled to Cormac's body and saw his head limp, nearly detached.

"You're no fucking fun," Goyle yelled at Draco. "That was MY prisoner."

"You need to stop playing with your food," he replied, standing over Hermione.

"Or maybe, you should stop playing with yours ." Goyle pointed his wand in their direction, and Hermione thought he would cast a spell at her. Instead, it was directed at Cormac's lifeless body.

She turned away as she felt warm blood splatter all over the back of her head and the side of her face. Bits of Cormac's flesh clumped into her hair and clung to her shirt. She didn't dare turn back to look.

"No no no no…" Hermione kept muttering. She had seen many die before, but nothing like this. Nothing as bloody and cruel.

In the background, she could hear Voldemort command Draco to send reinforcements to Azkaban and a raid of the supply cache, but she couldn't focus on that. It was all muffled over the sound of her ears ringing, unable to think of what to do in the situation. Numb.

Her eyes were cinched tight when she felt a cold grasp on her arm. Draco leaned into her and whispered, "Don't open your eyes."

When Hermione was brought to her room, her eyes were still closed. She could feel the blood drying on her skin. As much as she didn't want to, she opened her eyes and looked down. Half of her body was covered in red.

"Another," Hermione said, still looking at her palms that were drenched with Cormac's blood.

He raised his eyebrow. "Another? Are you sure?"

Of course she wanted another calming draught, how could she not? The thought of its effects wearing off was almost as frightening as the horror she had witnessed.

"Now, Malfoy."

He slipped another vial into her hand and she snatched it away. Her head was already fuzzy, but this made her feel like she could lay down on the floor and sleep covered in gore.

"Leave," she demanded. And he left.

—

Draco checked the dining room several times, seeing the dinner he had called to be made for Hermione was still there, untouched. After three hours and several warming charms cast by Tappy on the food, he made his way to the East wing.

He was sure she didn't want to see him after everything that happened. He had taken her straight to her room, still covered in what was left of Cornac, and let her be. He would have sent Astoria to check on her, but she had gone away with Daphne for the weekend.

In hindsight, knowing what was going to happen, he should have asked Astoria to stay. She was good at comforting people in a way that left them better than she found them. He, on the other hand, always had a tendency to do the opposite.

Draco knocked gently against the wooden door. He waited, and heard nothing. Not the yell of annoyance to tell him to fuck off or even the sound of footsteps.

He opened it slowly, finding the room empty but a dim light emitting from the bathroom.

"Granger, you taking a shit or something? Your food is getting cold and you need to eat something at least. If Potter finds out you've starved to death here, he'll be on my ass. And he's even more annoying than you are."

No response, just quietness. "Granger?"

What if the damn elves forgot to charm the tub so she wouldn't drown herself? Or what if she had gotten ahold of that surgical blade? Fuck.

Draco peeked his head through the bathroom, and was relieved to hear her slowed heartbeats muffled in water. Her braided hair was drenched in blood, and it turned the bath pink as it diffused into the water.

Hermione's knees were pulled close to her chest as she stared off into nothing. He hated seeing the dead look a calming draught gave her brown eyes. They were always so fiery and full of passion, but because of him, they were dull and helpless.

Bloodied clothes were thrown haphazardly on the bathroom floor, and she wore nothing but her white bra and underwear that had been stained red.

He hadn't noticed how pale her skin had gotten over the past few months. The veins in her arms and neck had become so visible, he could see them from where he was standing.

Draco noticed her lips were turning blue. She had been likely sitting in the cold tub for hours at this point. He pulled his wand out to cast a charm on the tub to make the water slowly heat up, so as to not cause any discomfort, but before he could, she spoke.

"No magic," she whispered, her voice hoarse and strained.

Draco sheathed his wand and began to roll his sleeves to his elbows as he approached the side of the tub. His movements were slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle her. As he got on his knees, he dipped his arm into the water, and even to him, it felt ice cold.

For her, it must have been painful. But how much pain could it really be compared to what she had just endured?

He pulled the plug on the tub letting the water drain before he turned the faucet on and let the water run over his fingers. When it felt acceptable, he let the tub fill with Hermione still in it, not moving or saying a word.

"Granger, can you manage to clean yourself up? Or shall I call Tappy?"

"No house elves," she said blankly, staring ahead. Her lips were returning to the normal color, and some of the blood had come off of her skin. Hermione's signature curls were holding it like a sponge though.

"Is it okay if I help you then?" Draco asked almost nervously.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against her knees. "Just… don't hurt me."

Draco's stomach dropped. He didn't have a response or retort. Guilt crashed into him like a quaffle to the gut. The only thing he could do was handle her delicately, so he did. He unraveled her hair curl by curl, strand by strand, weaving his fingers so gently that it almost felt like magic. He lathered soap into her hair, massaging her scalp, removing any sign of violence that had occurred in front of her.

When he was done, his fingers were pruned.

He grabbed a robe, lifted her from the tub, and wrapped her in it. Carefully, he toweled her hair dry. She was as still as stone, not even moving or flinching away from him how she normally did.

When her hair was no longer damp. He stepped away from her. "I'll leave you to the rest, Granger. Get some rest, please."

"You killed him," she whispered, her lips twitched slightly, but her face was still stoic.

"He was already marked for death. I gave him a quicker end than they would have granted him."

"I hate you," her soft voice mumbled.

He looked into her empty eyes wishing she would have said it with passion she normally had behind those words. "I know."

Draco left her alone in the room.

—

He had to stop thinking about her. Hermione was just supposed to be in the background of his mind, a side project, something to just check in on every so often. But now, he found himself worrying that she was close to her breaking point..

Fucking Goyle. I should fucking kill him. No one would miss that stupid fucking bloke. I'll gut him the first fucking chance I get.

"Draco? Hello? Are you even listening to me?" Theodore asked, waving his hand in front of his eyes. The pub was noisy, but somehow, Draco had gotten lost in his own thoughts.

"Yes, Teddy, something about wild boars and Diricawls," Draco grumbled.

Theodore sighed, taking a sip of his beer. "You've been off lately. What's been up with you?"

"Nothing," Draco replied. "Just been so busy. Voldemort's got me running around the whole damn country."

It was true, Voldemort was keeping him incredibly busy. Since he was whittled down to just one horcrux, he was getting desperate, sending Draco everywhere to try to turn the tides in his favor. If only he knew the person he trusted the most was the one who wanted him gone the most. Because he had taken everything away from him. Everything but Daphne and Astoria. Everything but Daphne, Astoria, and Granger.

Stop thinking about her.

Draco cashed his glass of whiskey in one drink, ordering another round quickly.

"He's been doing that for years, that's not anything new," Theodore argued.

This was also true. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had any real time to relax. But that was war, and that was the life he was subjected to. If it wasn't catering to the Dark Lord's every need, he was taking care of something or someone else.

"Who's giving you shit this time? Daph, Tori, or Pansy? You're always having issues with women, I swear. You don't know how to treat them." Theodore laughed and shook his head cockily.

"You think you're any better?"

"I'm loads better, mate. I'm in a healthy, stable, loving relationship and women love me."

Draco's eyes rolled, he shook his head with a slight smile on his face. "I'm sure Daph would love to hear that."

Theodore patted his shoulder. "You gotta be soft with them sometimes, then you can be a little more demanding. They love that shit. The back and forth, the change of power. You know, Daph and I…"

"Would you shut your mouth for fuck's sake and just drink with me?" Draco said just before finishing the drink that had just been brought to him.

"This is definitely about Granger then," Theodore smirked.

"Is not," Draco huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back..

"Deny it all you want, but since she came into the picture you've been all sorts of weird. Disappearing away to unknown places, mind wandering all about, moodier than normal," Theodore pried even more. "I'm starting to think you actually like her."

"I don't, Theodore. Now shut up. Drink."

Theodore laughed, seeing that Draco had conceited the victory to him. "I told you that you should come out with me more."

—

When Hermione woke the next morning, her brain was still foggy, but she remembered. She remembered every second of Cormac's torture and the aftermath. She just hoped that whatever Harry had planned was successful. That would be the only way it felt worth it.

She stood up to look out the window as the sun was rising, hoping to feel some peace come from it as it touched the treetops that were outside her reach. But when she looked closely, she saw that the blue barrier had been extended past the walkway she was constricted to.

Like a madwoman with nothing to lose, she bolted towards the door barefoot. Her feet stomped in the grass as she sprinted to the edge of the barrier, past the gardens and clouds.

When the sun hit her face, she started to cry.

She sobbed as she touched the grass that was warm from the sunlight. She laid down on her back and let it touch every piece of skin she had exposed.

Warmth.

Hours had passed and she had not moved from the spot she was laying in. Tappy had come and brought her food, but she didn't even touch it. When he came around with lunch, she finally got up to ask him where the gardening tools were.

Hermione spent days gardening. She was out in the late summer sun for hours on end. Astoria had even joined her on several occasions, getting her own hands dirty too.

But after her time in the sun, she would read into the night in her bedroom. It was a balance she was maintaining. Trying her best to keep her spirit up while also still working towards a cure for vampirism. To save Astoria. To kill Draco.

Hermione needed more.

Draco and her didn't talk much after her last trip to the Ministry. It had been nearly a week since she had even seen his face, and she was glad he didn't come around. Even though he had helped her afterwards, it was the least he could have done. He killed another person in front of her, another one of her friends. Snapping his neck and letting him fall to the floor, like he meant nothing. He could have stopped them, he could have let Cormac live.

From her room, she heard him enter the manor loudly, in a drunken fashion. Loud, obnoxious, and annoying. She changed out of her pajamas into a light t-shirt and leggings before making her way down the hall. When she finally saw him in the sitting room, a bottle of whiskey in hand, she got the nerve to finally speak to him. He was slouched in his usual chair, his white button up shirt half undone.

He looked disheveled, unrefined, and indignant, Hermione thought to herself. Draco Malfoy was supposed to be one of the most powerful beings in the wizarding world. Now, he was piss drunk and looked sloppy. His stark white hair messily covered his eyes, his clothes wrinkled, and smelt of booze. Coming home drunk as of late was becoming more often of an occurrence.

Was it because of his mother? Don't think about it.

She stood in front of him, his eyes were closed but as soon as he felt her presence, he groaned.

"What do you want, mudblood?"

"You need to take me to the Hogwarts library. It's important we go soon and often. There are many books and articles that you don't have here. I need to find a list of specific titles referenced in…"

"If we go, you have to shut up. And I mean it. That place is littered with snatchers, they get one whiff we're there and they'll tattle on me."

"Fine," she sighed.

He took a deep drink and looked up at her. "Granger, I'm being serious. You cannot babble on there. No fussing, we find the books, we get out."

"Okay."

He stood, towering over her. She smelt the alcohol on his cold breath, and it made her desperately want some, just to calm her mind. His eyes found her lips, and he smiled, his fangs poking out just enough for her to catch a glimpse. Cold fingers laced around her wrist, and in a second, they were in a familiar place.

It was worse than she had imagined it would be. Books were strewn about on the tables, many of them were worse for wear. It smelt of mildew and forgotten times. Hermione's heart broke in her chest.

"God, do you people have respect for anything?" she barked at Draco.

"Zip it, Granger."

She balled her fists, wanted to beat him with one of the tattered books, but she refrained. Mumbling to herself as she weaved through the bookshelves, Draco followed closely behind her. She stacked the books in his arms as they made their way through the library.

"Isn't this enough for a night?" he asked in a hushed voice as she set book number seven in his arms.

"Getting too heavy for you, Malfoy? What's the point of all those muscles and vampire strength if you can't even hold some damn books." Her voice was not nearly as quiet as his, but she was well aware of the sounds of voices coming from outside the library.

Draco set the stack down on a nearby table and pointed his finger at her. "Do you ever fucking listen? I told you to shut up."

"What are you going to do about it? Gag me?"

She nearly regretted the words that rolled off her tongue. When she had said them, his lips immediately curled into a wicked smile.

He pushed her back into the bookshelf, his body against hers. A gasp escaped her lips as he traced his thumb against them.

"I think there are several ways I can shut you up, Granger," he whispered so close to her face, her nostrils filling with the scent of whiskey and spearmint. She wanted a damn drink desperately.

In his eyes, she saw a hunger that made her nearly drop to her knees. The silver was piercing her, consuming every bit of her flesh. It was so alluring, she couldn't look away, her own hunger overtaking her.

His leg slid between her thighs as he pressed his hand against her mouth. She gasped as his knee angled up into her, but it was muffled by him. Even through his clothes, he felt like ice melting against her. As badly as she wanted to hate it and push him away, she didn't. Her eyes rolled back, feeling the loss of control to something so animalistic it felt frightening.

He slowly rocked his knee against her through her thin leggings, sending a chill up her spine and made her head feel weightless. "Do you want this?" he whispered into her ear.

The movement her body made was a response itself, she rotated her hips into his leg, feeling her own knees becoming weak. Each subtle movement he made made her whole body shake.

"Work for it," he growled as he began to kiss her neck. At any second he could have bit into her, but she couldn't care at this moment. She was so lost in the way his lips explored her throat and shoulder. It felt dangerous, like she was toying with her own life. Each time he touched his lips against her it could have been her end. His other hand grabbed onto her hip, moving along with her as she rubbed herself onto his knee. Every kiss was cold and hard.

"You're being a good girl, aren't you?" His lips pressed against her ear again. Taunting her. She held onto his shoulders, attempting to gain more leverage so she could push down harder into him. "Who knew this was all it took for you to shut up and listen?"

Desperation was filling her core, she wanted to scream, her hips bucking faster as he stood still, pressing against her body.

"You're so fucking warm, Granger. That cunt of yours is sweltering."

He lifted his leg, and she was now on the tips of her toes, slowing her down, making it harder to reach the point of bliss she was craving. But she couldn't protest, she couldn't tell him to let her down so she could finish, his hand was still firmly over her mouth. Hermione squirmed, trying to keep the momentum going, not wanting to lose the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Tell me you'll be a good little slut, Granger," he whispered as his fingers weaved through her curls, holding the back of her head firmly.

She glared at him, her body shaking with pleasure and rage now. He was doing this on purpose, to make a fool of her, to get off on her submission to him. He unclasped his hand from her mouth for her to speak, but she bit her lip.

Draco smirked, pushing his leg up higher to where she could barely feel the ground underneath her toes.

"Fuck you," she muttered, holding down on his shoulders, frantically pushing herself against him like her life depended on it.

Cold lips kissed her ear, nipping at her lobe, and she moaned softly as she felt his tongue circle around it. He lowered his leg, but she was still not fully touching the ground.

"Are you a good little slut for me, Granger?"

Everything in her head was telling her not to repeat his words, to not give into the monster.

But maybe there was a monster inside of her too. One that made her give into these pleasures with such ease. The one that made her turn to a bottle of liquor or made her stay up all night thinking of each way to kill Draco Malfoy once he was human again.

"Y… yes.." she murmured softly.

"Say it," he demanded. "Say you're my little slut."

"I'm… I'm your little slut," she whimpered.

"Good girl, that wasn't that hard, was it?" He set her down fully, taking a step back to watch her while she pleased herself against him. She choked back her moans, trying to keep quiet.. "You look so desperate, Granger. It's so fucking hot."

He tilted her chin up and slipped his thumb into her mouth. As she felt herself climax, she bit down on it, trying her best not to scream. The blood rushed to her head as she saw stars in the dimly lit library, Draco's eyes intently looking at her lips around his finger.

She collapsed against him, feeling his cold chest against her sweating face.

"Merlin, my leg is soaked," he said in a hushed laugh, pulling from under her. "You move like a damn fairy, Granger."

Hermione stood there, wide-eyed, weak in the knees, realizing what she had just done.

It's simply because I've been derived of human touch, that's the only explanation for this behavior. He's held me captive for months. I needed touch. I needed something.

"Just admit you liked it and we can move on," he said as he adjusted his shirt and picked up the stack of books.

"Get out of my head," she whispered. "I hate you."

Draco shrugged, taking hold of her arm. He pressed his cold lips to her ear. "That's what makes it better."