Hermione sat in the familiar classroom, waiting for the devil in pink to arrive to start the pure-blood propaganda. Even with the calming draughts she ingested, she felt a pang of annoyance. Even if she had drunk all of the potions and fire whiskey in of England, this wouldn't have been tolerable to her. Each second that ticked by was agony, and she started to become sad with nostalgia. She let herself think of the old days where she, Ron, and Harry fussed about and made every year something memorable. When times, though they seemed difficult then, were so much easier. Fighting a troll in the bathroom, helping Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, all things that seemed as if they were the hardest challenges they would encounter.

No one told her how hard things could get. She longed for the days she was naive and only worried about studying and exams. Never in her life did she ever expect that she wouldn't finish school due to a war that would last nearly a decade.

And worse yet, she was almost scared for it to end. At least with the war, she had purpose. She was The Golden Girl, the brains behind strategic successes, fighting on the frontlines. WIthout the war, she had nothing.

She wanted it to end, but that felt like it would be hers too.

Perhaps she didn't care if she faded into obscurity, she would prefer that. But what would she be without the war?

Nothing. I'd be nothing.

Umbridge lectured on and on about the dangers of muggles. How they were savages that would attempt to steal their magic. That they were lesser beings that didn't deserve to have the success they did.

Vampires hid a lot of their own history away from wizarding kind for fear of being exterminated. There are vampire territories with flourishing communities. They've got to have some sort of historical records. I just have to ask Malfoy to take me to them…

The thought of him made her face hot with anger, but at the same time, she couldn't help but think about how good it felt to be pleased by him. To have his cold tongue dancing on her skin, reaching that point of ecstasy so quickly, it was almost as if he knew her body better than she did.

"Ah, yes, we have another student joining us," Umbridge announced, breaking Hermione away from her vivid imaginations of Draco Malfoy between her legs. "Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Ms. Johnson."

If Hermione hadn't been in an altered state, she would have flown from her seat to Angelina and held her so close, they would have to rip her away.

But she looked at the beautiful witch, who always had a spark in her eyes and a smile on her lips, and noticed the blank stare in her eyes and the bruising on her arms. Though they made eye contact, Angelina seemed to not even acknowledge Hermione.

The minutes ticked on, and Hermione devised a plan to attempt to speak to Angelina without the gaze of Umbridge or alerting the Dementors that were looming by the windows. She would have to be quiet and quick.

It felt like Umbridge's nasally voice grated in Hermione's ears for hours, but it was only minutes longer until she stopped droning on. She lifted her wrist and cleared her throat, "Would you look at the time? I must have gotten carried away. You are dismissed for today. Please meet your guardians or house elves in the front entrance."

Like zombies, the class stood in unison with Hermione trailing slightly behind. She waited until Angelina began her way towards the entrance before following behind her.

When they were in the hall, Hermione whispered closely behind her. "Angie, you there?"

"Hey Hermione," she said softly. "I didn't think I'd see you again. Nice weather today, huh?"

"What happened to you, Angie?"

"It's mostly gone, don't worry," she whispered. "I can't remember much. Few things here or there. Can't remember my dad's name for the life of me. A few people threw a good ol' Oblivate in my direction."

"Hush back there," the snatcher who was leading the group to the exit barked.

Hermione spoke even softer, "Was it going okay out there?"

"I think so."

"Are they hurting you?" she asked her.

Angie shook her head slightly. "Not anymore."

Hermione's tolerance for the calming draughts was becoming alarmingly high. She became so angry for Angelina at this moment, her emotions were peeking out from under her haze.

"We're gonna get out of here, Angie," she assured, gritting her teeth.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm the reason you're here and with that fucking vampire," she whispered.

"It was an accident, out of our control."

Angelina shook her head again, turning towards her. "It wasn't an accident. I shouldn't have listened to them."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her voice no longer quiet.

"I said shut up!" the snatcher yelled. Angelina flinched at the sound of their booming voice, turning to face toward and walk in line with the others.

"Angie, what do you mean?" Hermione demanded again. Her heart was racing as if she hadn't taken a calming draught at all.

The snatcher stopped the group and stormed back towards Hermione. Without hesitation, his fist came careening towards her face. The blow split her bottom lip as it knocked into her jaw. She fell to the floor, and Angelina looked down quickly at her before turning away.

"I said shut the fuck up, mudblood."

Hermione glared at him, promptly standing up. The snatcher grinned at her, a golden tooth flashed among his grayed ones. Though she didn't know his name, he was always the one to escort them through the halls. He had hurt others before with small jinxes, but she had never seen him lay a hand on anyone.

She turned to face forward, in line with the others. If the success of the Order depended on her getting hit and keeping her mouth shut, she would.

But what the fuck was Angelina on about?

As they wandered through the dark hallways, Hermione's lip slightly bruised and bloodied, she desperately wished for Angelina to turn around and just tell her what she meant. She knew that the Order was aware of where she was, and that Draco had been meeting with them on a somewhat regular basis, well before she had even been in his captivity.

Them. Who was them? Angelina said she took orders from someone to leave her at the Ministry? The alarm bells rang within three minutes of Rumcorn being Stupeifed by Ginny. It would have been impossible for him to have come to his senses and altered anyone within that time.

What was even the point of me being left there? To be captured by him? That monster?

She remembered the look he gave her when she saw him on outside the school house just days before then. How intrigued his eyes seemed. The hungry look he gave was merely disregarded as him wanting to make a meal of her, she would have never thought that he had planned this all out in that moment when they met on the battlefield.

He can't be that cruel and calculated, can he?

"Miss Granger, Tappy has arrived for you. Tappy has brought a snack as well," the green-eyed house elf said with a big smile. It faded quickly once he saw her. "What's happened to Miss Granger's lip?"

"Nothing Tappy. Don't say a word to anyone."

He nodded, holding out his hand for her. When they were back at the manor, she bolted for the stairs, hoping to avoid anyone else. She needed to read, she needed to think, she needed to understand what Angelina had told her.

Astoria poked her head from the sitting room.

"Hermione! You're back finally. How was class?" she asked.

"Fine, I'm tired. I'll see you later, Astoria." Hermione faced away from her as she made her way up the steps, not wanting to reveal her battered lip. She was so preoccoipied with her own current madness, she didn't realize she was stomping up the stairs in a frenzied rush. As much as she wanted to confide in her, she felt too upset to even say a word. The Order was hiding things from her for years now it seemed. Now, they were potentially the reason why she was being held captive.

It wasn't the Order. That was too impersonal. It was Harry.

Harry Potter, her best friend of fifteen years. The first person who ever made her feel like she belonged to something. He was the one she turned to when things were bad, she had stuck with him by her side throughout it all. She had fallen out of love with Ron, but she loved Harry still. Even though over the past few years they had become more distant, and she had gotten closer to Ginny. Harry was her best friend, her number one.

The only family she had to cling onto was him.

It can't be true. It wasn't him. It was Moody and Shacklebolt's planning. That's why Moody told her to plan for a departure. They were who Angie was talking about. It couldn't be Harry.

He wouldn't do that to me. Or anyone. He was good. Harry would never stoop this low to win war, would he? He didn't even want to kill Death Eaters, so why on earth would he send me to my death?

It couldn't be Harry.

It can't be Harry.

Hermione sat in the reading chair, curtains closed, holding a book but not reading for hours. Scenarios played out in her head of why and how she ended up at Malfoy Mannor, and it always led back to him.

The monster.

—

Sleep never came for her. She laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, her thoughts racing to see if she saw any sort of sign. The conversation she had with Harry just before she was captured replayed over and over in her head as she analyzed each word he had uttered to her.

"Can't you understand? I'm doing this for you, for us. For everyone in the Order. It's not an easy decision, but it's one we have to make."

The decision to have her be captured.

The sun had not risen, but Hermione did. She put on a thin t-shirt and shorts, and decided to clear her mind in the garden. She pruned branches from shrubs, dug small holes for seeds Tappy had given her, and moved rocks around the landscape until the dirt caked under her fingernails and she felt the sunshine begin to warm her skin. In her head, she only allowed herself to think about what she was planning on growing next week, and if she needed to ask Tappy to help her charm the watering can so that it was never empty.

"There you are," Draco's voice called from the edge of the manor where the clouds casted the heavy shadow. "Didn't find you in your usual spots."

Her back was facing away from him, as she was tending to some hydrangeas that had recently bloomed. Her knees were covered in dirt as she knelt before them. Hydrangeas always reminded Hermione of her mother. She loved hydrangeas.

"You've gone mute or deaf, Granger?"

"I'm a bit preoccupied, can't you see?" she asked. "I'll do more research later. I just wanted to have a minute for myself."

Her hair was tightly pulled back to keep it away from her face as she worked, and she could almost feel the gnawing sensation of his eyes on the nape of her neck. She refused to turn around, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to feel shame.

"Tori asked me to check on you, said you had a fit at school or something. Umbridge an issue again?"

"No."

"Don't make me read your mind," he threatened.

"Why the fuck do you care? Just leave me alone."

"My lovely wife wanted me to check on you, what she says, I do," he said in a joking fashion.

Hermione sat up straight from her slightly hunched position over a bundle of flowers. "Well, I didn't realize your lovely wife wanted you fucking her best friend and begging your prisoner for a taste of them. Seems a little out of character for Astoria, don't you think?"

She heard his footsteps storm behind her and felt his cold hand grasp her arm and lift her from the ground. He grabbed her face and forced her head to look at him.

"Listen here, mudblood," he growled as he stared into her. It felt so intense, she thought he might have snapped her neck there. However, once his gaze trailed slowly down her face, looking at her bruised lip, his eyes narrowed and his lip curled. "What the fuck happened to your face, Granger?"

She suppressed her thoughts. Only the dead look in her eyes could be seen for him. Draco pulled her face closer to his.

"Who the fuck did this to you?"

No answer, just a deadpan stare.

"Answer me!" he screamed in her face, rattling her senses, his grip on her jaw becoming tighter. Her heartbeat hastened, and she nearly trembled but held herself upright.

"Some snatcher at Hogwarts."

"Who?" he demanded.

"Like I fucking know. The prick with the gold tooth."

Draco pulled out his wand, holding it to her temple as he muttered, "Legiliment."

Hermione tried to fight it, not knowing what would happen if he saw that Angelina was taken. She feared that he may kill her for what she knew. The pin prick she felt at the base of her skull started to spread, but she wouldn't allow him to enter.

Suddenly, she felt his cold lips press against her ear, kissing it softly, nipping at her lobe.

"Let me in, Granger," he whispered, his cold breath sending a chill down her spine.

Then she saw Hogwarts library surrounding her, the memory of Draco in front of her, kissing her neck as she whimpered with his hand over her mouth.

"Fuck you," she grumbled. He had distracted her for a second, and her walls came down. Draco stood behind the image of himself, watching her for a few moments, smiling.

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" he chuckled, admiring his work. "You look so fucking beautiful like that. I wish I could freeze the exact moment you came on my leg. I'd get your portrait painted with your eyes rolled back and hang it over my mantle."

With ease, he edged his way into the following morning, again, watching intently as Hermione choked back moans, making side comments before he moved through the rest of her day. He sped past Umbridge's lectures and stopped once he noticed she was whispering to Angelina. He looked closely at her face, analyzing her expressions as she processed what was told to her.

He made a great deal to watch as the man with the gold tooth punched her across the face, staring at his face, memorizing his features.

Then she was back in the garden, breathless as Draco stood and looked down at her, his eyes were still intense, but less in the way that made her fear him. It seemed more curious and inquisitive than harsh and demanding. His grip on her jaw was now just a hand on her cheek. The sunlight was shining on his back, blocking her from its rays. She could smell the slight scent of burning flesh and hair. He didn't move an inch.

"You made them a deal they couldn't refuse, didn't you?" she asked, looking away from his eyes. She still felt them probing her.

"It was a bad trade on their end, if I am honest," he replied. The burning smell became more intense. His lip twitched, a small sign of pain.

"What was it?"

"You for a horcrux. They can't even access it, they said they need you. Enchanted to all hell in a labyrinth of a cave."

"You're burning," she stated as a fact, as if he didn't know.

His thumb brushed her cheek, and his jaw clenched slightly. "I know."

"Who made the deal?"

"They all did."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Who shook on it?"

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, his eyes fixated on her bottom lip.

She knew the answer just by that. The world around her felt like it was crumbling. Her last line to any sort of normalcy outside of the war was cut. Harry had given her up, he didn't even tell her. Why didn't he fucking tell her?

She remembered it as if it was just yesterday when she had last seen him.

"Hermione, you have us."

What a fucking lie. She had no one.

The smell of his flesh broiling in the summer sun was becoming unbearable now.

"Malfoy, you're burning," she repeated, trying to push him back into the barrier of clouds. "It smells like shit. Step back."

"If we go with them to get the horcrux, will you leave me?" he asked, not budging. She saw his hairs catch flame and burn away, smoke now emitting from his back.

"Malfoy, step back, please," she said more frantically.

"Answer me, Granger. Will you leave me?"

She pushed harder against him, shoving her shoulder into his firm chest, His flesh started to bubble. "Malfoy! Stop being a fucking brat and just move!"

He stood still, his fists clenched, and slight discomfort on his face, but unmoving. Hermione shoved again and again, the burns now wrapping around his arms, dripping puss and charring at the thin parts of his skin. He was likely using strong Occlumency to mask his pain.

"If I say no will you fucking move back?!" she yelled.

"Why do you care if I burn?" he asked her.

Hermione stopped pushing him, she didn't know why. Maybe she felt bad for him, losing almost everything, clinging to what he could, just like her. Or perhaps she was scared that if he burnt to death she'd really have nothing holding her to this earth anymore. An enemy was better than no one, she figured. Or maybe it's because he's the first person in a long time that made her feel needed.

"I don't want to explain to Astoria why her husband is burnt to a crisp in front of the hydrangeas."

Draco simply smiled at her, gritting his teeth as his skin was melting away, "So, Granger, will you leave me?"

"No," she replied softly.

He took a step back into the shadows, relaxing his shoulders, unclenching his jaw. "Guess we're joining your old pals for horcrux hunting."