The smell was gut wrenching. And not in a good way. Draco felt his stomach lurch as the strong odor of Hermione's blood wafted through the room.

"Draco, you shouldn't be here for this!" His mother was urging him. And he hated that. Hated that she even knew of his affliction. That she was thinking of it now.

It'd been startling enough when he'd been levitating the snatchers to the front yard and heard Granger's screams echoing through the walls. To stumble in to find his Aunt Bellatrix standing over her, Granger trashing about on the drawing room floor. He'd attempted to stop his Aunt, to redirect some of her rage, but she was having none of it.

Lost in her lunacy, Bellatrix was screaming insults at Hermione. Not listening to her nephew, nor her own sister as they urged her to stop.

And the blade had come out so fast. Draco only had a mere second to realize what was about to happen before it sliced into Hermione's arm.

The scent of blood was instantaneous and had Draco doubled over the fireplace. Holding the mantle for support as his stomach cramped. He was overwhelmed with a nausea that could only come from not feeding for several days, and the temptation was too strong.

"Please, Draco!" His mother was insisting. "Just leave! You've done all that's needed."

But even if he wanted to, he couldn't. Leave Granger alone to bleed out on the drawing room floor? To be tortured to madness until his deranged Aunt finally ended things? He had to think of a way to stop this. He just had to overcome his own ailment.

He could do it, just…

Pop!

In the middle of the room appeared Potter and Weasley. Holding them both was none other than Dobby, the disinherited house-elf that had once served the Malfoy Manor. And what a cunning act this was, as the anti-apparition wards of the Malfoy estate did not extend to house-elves. Not to current servants of the manor, nor prior…

"Get off her, you bitch!" Ron snarled as he leaped for Bellatrix. He managed to knock her off Hermione, jerking the blade from Bellatrix's hand. A second later Harry threw a blanket over Granger in some act to shield her.

Draco watched it all unfold, his shaking hands still holding the mantle as he continued to fight through his stomach tremors.

Weasley and Bellatrix were wrestling, Lucius was running to his wife to shield her protectively. As soon as he reached her, he pulled his sleeve up and pressed his wand to the dark mark.

Voldemort had been summoned.

Harry screamed. He'd been bent over to try and swoop up Hermione, but he dropped to his knees and held his head. The distraction allowed Bellatrix to rise, pointing her wand down at Weasley. "Stupef-"

"You isn't be hurtin' Harry Potter or his friends!" Dobby shouted..

Just as the red light was leaving Bellatrix's wand, she was hit by an invisible blast that presumably came from Dobby's hands. The red light ricocheted off the mirror and upwards towards the chandelier with a crash.

He had to do something. Draco moved for the group just as Dobby rested his hands on Potter's head, grabbing Ron by the wrist.

With a loud pop they were gone, even as Ron began to yell "No!"

"Stupid blood traitors!" Bellatrix snarled. And then she broke into a laugh, eying her sister triumphantly. "I got him! I got him! Just as he disapparated. My dagger went in that house-elf's heart!"

There was hardly time to react to this proclamation. For the chandelier came crashing down atop Hermione's laying form.

/

The Dark Lord was less than pleased about the turn of events when he arrived shortly after. To learn that Harry Potter had been captured and escaped was not a bit of news that was taken lightly.

Narcissa had screamed when Draco had been crucio'd for it. He'd listened to her cries as he grit his teeth, dropped to his knees as his body rang in pain. Draco had reacted much like Hermione the first few times he'd been crucio'd. But he had vast experience with it now, having learned to brace himself and count backwards from twenty.

It lasted for less than a minute, but it ended in what felt like hours. And then the Dark Lord was pacing about the drawing room, his twisted face repeating the facts out loud.

"Harry Potter escaped, but we have his wand. And we have the mudblood…"

He stopped in front of her, kicking the chandelier off her frozen figure. "No… We may not have Potter, but we have a goldmine right here…"

"I was working on her when they came to retrieve her!" Bellatrix whispered. She'd already been crucio'd as well, once Voldemort had seen the sword of Gryffindor in her possession. Sitting on the floor, she crawled at Voldemort's feet like a desperate puppy awaiting a treat "Just a few more moments, and she would have cracked!"

"You do things so backwards at times, Bellatrix." Voldemort hissed. "You lose yourself to anger and don't think logically…"

"But she is a filthy mudblood who deserves the most excruciating of-!"

"Silence." Voldemort aimed his wand at Hermione's still body, whisking away the blanket covering her.

Draco felt himself jolt. The fabric had been masking the scent of sweet, fresh blood, and now it was upon him again. Her stomach twisting and he cringed, nearly losing his footing.

He needed to feed…

"Look what we have here," Voldemort breathed. "Bellatrix, you weren't lying about working on her. Branded and all…"

"Yes!" She breathed, edging closer to her lord. "Even in death she shall wear it like a badge! For all to know exactly what she is! The mark will remain forever!"

"You know how easily things could have been done with Legilimency. Your impulses get the best of you. Yet had you been doing things correctly, she might have escaped with the others."

"My lord…" Bellatrix breathed, looking as if she were not sure if she should be flattered or not. "I only wish to make you proud."

"You have displeased me, but all is not lost." He replied with finalcy. And then he turned, waving a slithering arm towards Draco. "Come, boy. Care to feast tonight?"

It was a mock gesture. Voldemort had forced this ailment upon Draco. Had done it while his mother watched in horror. And he knew quite well that it was a condition that Draco despised. That even in this moment he was sick with temptation.

The offering was as good as rubbing his face in it, and nothing more.

"Come now, don't be shy." Voldemort hissed, the amusement clear in his eyes.

His tongue ran over his teeth, and Draco could feels his fangs unsheathed. All he wanted to do was crouch down and suck at that opened wound. To lap up that rich scented iron that was driving him mad. To drink until he was satiated, but he wouldn't.

Not with everyone watching and knowing.

Not in front of his mother.

Not Granger.

"No thank you." Draco replied through gritted teeth. His knuckles must be white with how fiercly he gripped the mantle, cold sweat dripping down his temple. He kept his eyes focused on his Aunt, not wanting to look at the bleeding girl. Not wanting to return his mother's fretful gaze.

"Rennervate," Voldemort pointed a long finger at Hermione, and she immediately let out a low groan as she awakened.

"Likely, she has a mild concussion from the impact," Voldemort said lazily. And then he spoke with words long and clear, as if communicating with a half-deaf dog. "Can you understand me, mudblood?"

Hermione's eyes opened slowly, and she carefully pushed herself into a sitting position. While her lids were droopy and she looked drunk, the fear on her face was unmistakable. Her tired face looked up at Voldemort, the blood still oozing from her forearm.

"How did you come to possess the sword of Gryffindor?" Voldemort asked icily.

Hermione's eyes flashed. She took a moment to straighten her trembling posture as best as she could. And then she breathed, her words slightly slurred. "We found it."

That sodding Gryffindor bravery! Draco grit his teeth.

"You have the nerve to lie to the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix snapped. She began to crawl forward from Voldemort's feet, but he simply put a hand up. Instinctively she froze.

"Come now Bellatrix. Remember what I said about impulsivity…"

Her eyelids less droopy now, Hermione was staring up at Voldemort with undisputable horror. And yet she stared right into his eyes, another trait of that rudding bravery that was sure to get her killed.

"Good little mudblood, you are. Look at me…" Voldemort was breathing. "That's it… Legilimens."

The effect was instantanous. Hermione's entire body shook, her eyes widening and she fell back. Her breathing became shallow as she shook, quiet whimpers escaping her parted lips.

A hand went to Draco's shoulder, and he turned to see his mother giving him a grim look. "Please, Draco. Go." She whispered. "While he is distracted… Don't bear any more witness to this."

But he just couldn't. Couldn't bring himself to leave Granger alone with these monsters. Couldn't leave his mother to suffer whatever rage the Dark Lord might have once he finished his inspection of the prisoner's mind.

Legilimency didn't take long. Just a minute later Voldemort was laughing, shaking his bald head as he turned away from the trembling girl beneath him.

"She wasn't lying when she said she found it, Bellatrix. Potter came across the sword at the bottom of a river."

"But how?!" Bellatrix's eyes went wide. "When it was in my vault?! My lord!"

"We will go inspect the vault tonight. I'm curious as well. It seems there is a fake sword upon us,"

His hollow eyes blinked as he continued. "The headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix is now accessible at 12 Grimmauld Place in London. The Fidelius charm is defunct as a result of this act of legilimency." He continued. "The two deatheaters I have on watch will be accessing it right about now. As expected, there was a contingency plan for abandonment should a member of the Order be apprehended."

"So no other members will be caught?!" Bellatrix gasped.

"They will be smart enough to have disapparated by now. But there will still be valuable information to be gathered. They won't have had time to take everything with them. Lucius." Voldemort turned on the Malfoy patriarch. "I expect you to lead the act of searching the premises."

"Draco," Voldemort continued, turning to see that he was still clutching the mantle. "For once you can be of use and attend. How convenient this happened at night."

Slimey old bastard, Draco eyed Voldemort, fighting back the urge to glare. Every change the dark lord had, he found a way to make jabs at Draco and his weakness. He growled, dipping his head slightly. "As you wish."

"This mudblood will be of use to us," Voldemort said. He turned back towards Hermione, who was shivering on the floor. Legilimancy could be just as painful as the cruciatus curse when it was done without care.

"I want a close eye kept on her," Voldemort breathed. "House elves will no longer be permitted to apparate. And further wards shall be put in place to prevent any escape attempts."

"Here?" Draco felt his mother's fingers tighten into his shoulder.

"Yes, here." Voldemort glared. "Is that a problem?"

"Why, no. My dark lord." She replied. But Draco knew exactly what she was thinking. She was uneasy about the responsibility of housing someone with such high risk, as well as stunned that they were even being entrusted after Potter's escape.

"Very well." Voldemort looked back down at Hermione, who now refused to meet his gaze. "I will be visiting this mudblood many times, I'm sure… See to it that she is taken care of. We need that mind of hers to remain intact."

/

Suburban south London was lifeless at this time of night, the bustling during the day having long subsided around supper time.

It was always quiet on Grimmauld Place at 3 in the morning, which was something Suzanne appreciated about living on her street. Having moved just a few years prior, her previous home had some loud neighbors that tended to keep her up at nights.

But now nights of uninterrupted sleep were what she looked forward to throughout her days, especially when she suffered from frequent migraines the way she did. So it was quite startling when she woke up out of the blue. Suzanne never dide like this - she always slept soundly until her 7 o'clock alarm. That was her routine, after all.

Had she had a bad dream?

Or perhaps there had been some noise outside that stirred her.

Yet the night was still and lifeless, just as she liked it, with not even the sound of an alleycat lurking outside.

The darkness engulfing her was disorienting. There was no light shining into the room from the streetlamps below. No moonlight to cast a soft glow. Not even pale shadows of her bedroom furniture could be seen as she stared ahead. It was as if something - or someone - had swallowed all light from existence.

Perhaps that was normal for Grimmauld Place at 3 in the morning. She wouldn't know.

After listening to the quietness of her house for several moments, Suzanne felt the uneasy sensation of being watched.

Which made no sense.

Suzanne slept alone. She lived alone.

She was alone.

Or, at least, she usually was. Yet she knew it was necessary to call out into the darkness of her room, holding the blanket snug against her chest. "Who's there?"

Something deep inside told her that she had a visitor. And rather than being terrified of the fact, she found she was quite at peace with this. As if she'd been waiting her entire life for this one encounter.

She waited for a response.

Silence replied to her simple request. And she listened several seconds more before repeating herself.

"Who's there?"

This time she wasn't rewarded with words, yet she got a reply. A cold finger ran down her cheek, stopping at her jawline. A palm moved down to her throat.

There was no fear as she allowed herself to be pushed back into bed. No struggle or panic as the icy hand smoothed back her hair. The touch was calming, gentle.

Valium incarnate.

She closed her eyes as she felt the breath hitting the nape of her neck. And when the skin broke, she didn't scream. It felt too good for that.

"Oh," She sighed, her breath trailing into an elongated moan. Skin prickling as she arched her back, hips desperate to meet the figure standing above. Yet she couldn't reach it. She was met with only air.

Eyes closed in pleasure, Suzanne threw her head back. Her chest heaving as the darkness spun around her. Warmth was radiating where her visitor suckled, the sensation trembling to her toes as her fingers clawed the mattress below.

She moaned again, rocking her hips upwards into the abyss. Gasping, begging for me.

And just as she felt her release approaching, the early hints of an incredible climax, it all stopped.

Instantaneously Suzanne fell back asleep, her head nodding to the side.

She hadn't even gotten to hear her guest's voice.

It would be a night she'd quickly forget.