(27th Decemeber, Malfoy Manor, 12 PM)

The morning light filtered dimly through the tall, narrow windows of Malfoy Manor, barely piercing the oppressive gloom that shrouded the estate. In the dungeon below, Hermione stirred, her body aching from the torment of the previous night. Her limbs were heavy, her muscles stiff, and her skin felt like it was on fire from the bruises and lash marks.

Just as her mind began to drift between waking and unconsciousness, the sharp, commanding voice of Draco Malfoy shattered the silence.

"Accio Hermione Granger!"

Before she could even process the command, the magical bindings on her body flared to life, yanking her violently off the cold stone floor. She let out a startled cry as her body zipped through the air, her hair whipping around her face. Her surroundings blurred into streaks of gray and green as she was pulled relentlessly toward him.

She landed with a heavy thud at his feet in the grand sitting room, the cold marble floor biting into her skin. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping and disoriented. She barely had time to collect herself before she felt the polished tip of Draco's shoe nudge her side.

"Still alive, I see," Draco drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "Good. I'd hate for you to expire so soon. The fun's only just begun. So, I thought why not treat you a little first." He clicked his finger and two house-elves scurried in, carrying a small tray of food and a vial of dittany between them. Their large, mournful eyes avoided hers as they placed the items on the cold stone floor just within her reach.

Draco Malfoy followed them in, his expression impassive but his presence oppressive. "Leave us," he commanded sharply, and the elves disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Hermione alone with him.

He gestured toward the tray with a flick of his wand. "Eat," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for defiance. "I won't have you breaking before I decide you're done."

Hermione hesitated, her gaze flitting between the food and his icy grey eyes. Her stomach growled audibly, betraying her hunger. Reluctantly, she reached out, her fingers trembling as she broke off a piece of the bread.

As she began to eat, Draco stepped closer, uncorking the vial of dittany. The sharp, herbal scent filled the air, momentarily distracting her from the stale bread and watered-down soup. He crouched down in front of her, tilting his head as he inspected her bruised and battered form.

"You'll heal just enough to endure," he murmured, almost to himself, as he let a single drop of dittany fall onto the raw gash on her shoulder. The wound hissed and smoked, the pain sharp and searing, but Hermione bit her lip to stifle a cry.

"Good," Draco said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "We'll continue once you're done." Hermione knelt on the freezing stone floor, her battered body trembling with exhaustion and humiliation. The bindings wrapped around her—living, pulsing strands of crimson magic—dug into her skin with every movement, a constant reminder of her helplessness. Her bare form was exposed to the dungeon's biting chill, her dignity stripped away with every agonizing moment. Draco towered over her, the paddle in one hand and the whip coiled in the other, his expression one of cruel satisfaction.

"We will begin now, Granger. On your knees." Draco sneered, tapping the paddle against his palm.

Her lips quivered as tears slid down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she croaked. "I didn't mean for... for everything. Just let me go. Please."

Draco chuckled darkly. "Let you go? And deny myself the satisfaction of watching you squirm a little more? I don't think so."

Whimpering, Hermione pushed herself up, her body swaying unsteadily. She knelt, her head bowed and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

"Good girl," Draco mocked, circling her like a predator. He trailed the edge of the paddle along her shoulder, down her back, and over her hips, making her shudder. "Now, you're going to count. Every strike. Loud and clear, or I'll make it worse for you. Understand?"

She nodded weakly, her voice barely a whisper. "Y-yes."

The first strike landed on her backside with a loud crack, the force of it jolting her forward. Hermione gasped, her voice caught in her throat.

"Count," Draco demanded, his tone icy.

"O-one," she stammered, her voice trembling.

The paddle came down again, harder this time. Hermione cried out, her body flinching from the pain.

"Louder," Draco barked.

"Two!" she sobbed, her voice cracking.

The strikes continued, each one precise and unrelenting. Hermione's cries filled the chamber, her voice growing hoarser with each count.

"Three!"

Crack!

"Four!"

Her entire body jolted with every strike, the bindings reacting to her pain by sending sharp, electric shocks through her scalp and thighs. The pain was unbearable, a searing torment that left her gasping for air.

"Master, please!" she begged, turning her tear-streaked face toward him. "I-I can't take any more!"

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "You'll take as much as I decide you will."

Another strike, harder than the last, tore a scream from her throat.

"Five!"

"Keep begging," Draco snapped, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. The bindings responded instantly, sending another jolt of magic coursing through her. Hermione's scream echoed in the chamber, her body convulsing as the tendrils tightened around her.

"Do you feel that?" Draco hissed into her ear. "Every time you disobey, every time you think about defiance, these bindings will punish you. They're designed to map every inch of your magic, to suppress it, to control it. You'll never cast another spell without my permission."

He released her hair, letting her slump forward. The paddle came down again, its impact reverberating through her already bruised skin.

"Six!" Hermione cried, her voice barely audible.

"Louder," Draco ordered, raising the paddle again.

"Six!" she screamed, her body shaking with sobs.

The strikes continued, unrelenting.

"Seven! Eight! N-nine!"

Hermione's voice faltered, her cries mingling with desperate pleas. "Draco, please… I'm begging you… I can't…"

"You'll endure," he interrupted coldly, delivering another punishing blow. "Ten!"

She screamed the number, her body collapsing forward as her arms gave out. But Draco wasn't finished. He tossed the paddle aside and picked up the whip, uncoiling it with deliberate precision.

"No," Hermione whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. "Please… no more…"

Draco crouched beside her, gripping her chin and forcing her tear-streaked face to look up at him. "No more?" he mocked, his voice dripping with derision. "Oh, Granger. We're far from finished."

The first lash of the whip struck her back, the sharp sting tearing another scream from her lips. The bindings reacted instantly, shocking her again, amplifying the torment until her entire body felt like it was on fire.

"Count," Draco demanded again, his voice like ice.

"Eleven!" Hermione sobbed, her voice barely audible.

"Pathetic," Draco spat, delivering another lash.

"Twelve!"

The strikes came faster now, each one leaving angry red welts across her back and thighs. Hermione's screams grew weaker, her voice hoarse and broken.

By the time he reached twenty, she was barely conscious, her body trembling uncontrollably. Draco stepped back, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied smirk. He stopped at her side, his smirk deepening as she tried to turn her head away, her matted hair obscuring her tear-streaked face. Without warning, his boot came down sharply between her legs, the impact drawing a choked, agonized scream from Hermione's throat. Her bound body jerked violently, the ropes cutting deeper into her bruised skin.

"Sensitive there, aren't we?" Draco sneered, applying more pressure with his heel. Hermione writhed beneath him, her sobs mingling with gasps of pain as he twisted his foot cruelly. "Maybe this will remind you that you don't have the luxury of hiding, Granger. Not here. Not ever."

Satisfied with her torment, he stepped back briefly, only to position himself behind her. He pressed his boot against the small of her back, grinding down with deliberate force as she convulsed beneath him, her cries growing more desperate. Then, with a sharp yank, he seized a fistful of her tangled hair, pulling her head back painfully until her neck arched unnaturally.

"Do you understand now?" Draco hissed, his cold breath brushing against her ear. "Do you finally understand what it means to be at someone else's mercy? To have everything you are crushed into nothingness?"

Hermione's only response was a strangled sob, her tears falling freely as she struggled against the unyielding bonds. Draco tightened his grip on her hair, tugging viciously as his other hand reached for his wand.

"Let's see if we can make this lesson stick," he murmured darkly. He raised his wand, pointing it at her trembling form. "Crucio."

The curse hit her like a tidal wave, wracking her body with unbearable pain. Hermione's screams echoed through the chamber, raw and guttural, as the torment consumed her. Her bound limbs twitched uncontrollably, her back arching against the crushing weight of his boot. Draco's smirk only widened as he watched her writhe, the magical ropes ensuring she couldn't escape the agony.

"Beautiful," he said coldly, his voice almost admiring. "This is where you belong, Granger. Broken. Helpless. At my feet."

He held the curse for what felt like an eternity, her screams gradually giving way to hoarse, gasping sobs as the pain finally subsided. Hermione collapsed onto the floor, her body limp and trembling, her face pressed against the cold stone.

Draco crouched beside her, yanking her head back once more with a cruel tug of her hair. Her glassy, tear-filled eyes met his, barely able to focus through the haze of pain. "Look at yourself," he hissed. "You beg for freedom, but what would you even do with it? There's no one left for you. No Weasley. Harry? He doesn't want you. You're utterly alone."

Hermione sobbed, her body convulsing. "I... I have my parents," she managed to say between gasps. "In Sydney. I'll find them... I'll never come back. Please, Draco. Let me go."

Draco's expression shifted to one of cold amusement. "Your parents?" he repeated mockingly. "Do you think they'll even recognize you? Do you think you can erase the stench of failure and betrayal you carry?"

Hermione's sobs deepened, her face pressed against the floor. "I'll do anything," she whispered. "Just let me go. I'll disappear. I swear."

Draco stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of his wand, he summoned a vial of Dittany and began healing the worst of her wounds. "I'll grant you this one kindness," he said coldly. "Not because you deserve it, but because I tire of this game."

He conjured her old clothes from Alaric's massage center, tossing them at her feet. "Get dressed," he ordered. Draco's wand flicked lazily, summoning a quill, parchment, and ink. They hovered in the air, poised to write. "We have some unfinished business before you're allowed to leave, Granger," he said, his voice silky smooth yet dripping with authority.

Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise. "Leave?" she croaked, her voice raw.

Draco's smirk was razor-sharp. "Oh, yes. I'm feeling… charitable today. But only after I'm satisfied you understand what your life should look like from here on out."

He gestured for the parchment to lower to her level. "You're going to resign from your job, effective immediately. A neat little letter to your boss, stating that you've decided to pursue a quieter life far, far away."

Hermione blinked at him, her lips trembling. "You can't be serious—"

"Ah." Draco's wand flicked, and Hermione's head was yanked backward by her hair. The tendrils of the binding ritual sprang to life, sending a sharp shock through her scalp and spine. She cried out, her hands instinctively flying to her head.

"I'm very serious," Draco said coldly. "And you will not interrupt me again. Understand?"

Hermione nodded frantically, her tears flowing anew.

"Good," he said, releasing her. "Now, pick up the quill."

With shaky hands, Hermione reached for the quill, her fingers trembling so badly that the ink splattered onto the parchment. She looked up at Draco, her lips parted to speak, but his icy glare silenced her. Slowly, she began to write under his watchful eye.

"Dear Sir…" she whispered aloud, her voice cracking as she put down the words he dictated.

Draco's gaze was unrelenting as he loomed over her, correcting every detail, ensuring her resignation letter was perfect. When she faltered, he leaned down, his voice soft but menacing. "Think carefully, Granger. Every word you write is a step closer to your freedom. Unless you'd like to stay here a little longer?"

"No," she whispered hoarsely, continuing to write.

Once the letter was finished, Draco snatched it from her hands and read it over. Satisfied, he folded it neatly and sent it off with a flick of his wand.

"Now, let's fix you up," Draco said, his tone almost mockingly gentle. He pulled a small vial of Dittany from his pocket and crouched before her. "Can't have you looking like a mess when you leave, can we?"

He applied the Dittany to her wounds with deliberate slowness, his touch firm and impersonal. Hermione flinched with every movement, her body so used to pain that even the soothing burn of the Dittany felt unbearable. Hermione gasped, her heart racing. "You're… really letting me go?"

Draco crouched again, gripping her chin tightly and forcing her to look him in the eye. He clamped on her right nipple and twisted it cruelly, "Oh, I'm letting you go, Granger. But don't mistake this for kindness. This is a reminder. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, you'll always remember who holds the strings."

With that, he yanked her hair back one final time, sending a shock through her body that left her gasping and sobbing. He released her abruptly, making her fall at his feet. He wanted to ensure she didn't rise again. Pulling out a small, ornate portkey. "This will take you to Sydney," he said, holding it just out of her reach. "remember this: no matter where you are, no matter how far you run, you'll always belong to me. If I ever see you again, Granger… well, let's just say this will feel like mercy."

With that, he tossed the portkey to her, and she clutched it tightly, her tears soaking into the cold metal.

"Go," he commanded, his voice like ice.

Hermione activated the portkey, the world spinning around her as she was whisked away. Draco stood alone in the grand hall, the echoes of her screams still lingering in the air. Draco stood in the empty hall for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he turned and strode to his study.

The hooded figure was already there, sitting in the shadows by the fire. As Draco approached the chessboard on his desk, the figure nodded silently.

Draco moved a piece deliberately, his hand lingering over the white queen. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked it over with his black knight. "Checkmate," he said coldly, his smirk returning as the hooded figure rose and slipped into the night.

*thousand of miles away...*

The portkey took Hermione to a secluded park at the edge of Sydney as the first light of dawn brushed the sky. She collapsed onto the dewy grass, gasping for air as nausea from the travel overwhelmed her battered body. The sharp scent of eucalyptus filled her senses, but it did little to ground her.

For a long moment, she stayed there, curled into herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her body ached with every movement—welts and bruises hidden beneath her clothes were a painful reminder of everything she had endured. Tears spilled freely, hot against her chilled cheeks, as she sobbed into the quiet, her breath ragged and broken.

What had she become?

The question echoed in her mind, a cruel mantra. She had been Hermione Granger—bright, brave, unyielding. Now she was... nothing. A ghost of who she once was. Draco's words haunted her: "There's no one left for you. You're utterly alone."

And wasn't he right?

Hermione wiped her eyes with trembling hands, forcing herself to her feet. Her knees buckled under her weight, but she steadied herself against the trunk of a tree. The city stretched before her in the distance, bustling even in the early hours. It was a world apart from the cold, oppressive walls of Malfoy Manor.

The thought of her parents ignited a faint spark of hope. They were out there, hidden in this city, blissfully unaware of the war and her failures. The memory of their confused faces as she obliviated their memories years ago brought a fresh wave of tears. Would they recognize her now? Could she ever find her way back to the family she had cast away?

She began walking, each step a battle against exhaustion. Her feet carried her to a small, shabby café tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. She pushed open the door, the smell of coffee and freshly baked bread momentarily soothing her frayed nerves.

The barista, a kind-faced man in his late forties, gave her a curious look as she approached the counter. "Rough morning?" he asked with a friendly smile.

Hermione nodded weakly, her voice cracking as she replied, "Something like that."

She fumbled in her pocket and found a few coins—barely enough for a cup of tea. She handed them over with shaking hands, grateful when he slid the steaming mug toward her. She took a seat in the corner, her fingers cradling the warmth of the ceramic as she stared out the window.

Her reflection stared back at her—hollow eyes, matted hair, a face streaked with dirt and tears. She looked like a stranger.

Time passed in a haze. The tea grew cold, untouched, as Hermione sat there, lost in her thoughts. The weight of everything pressed down on her chest, suffocating her. The war. Ron. Harry. Draco. The loss of her dignity. Her broken sense of self.

Eventually, she rose and left the café, wandering aimlessly through the streets. The city was alive around her, but she felt like a ghost drifting through it.

She found a bench near the harbor and sat, staring out at the shimmering water. The sound of waves lapping against the shore was a balm for her frayed nerves. She pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in them as another wave of sobs overtook her.

"Please," she whispered to no one. "Please let me find them. Please let me start over."

She cried until there were no tears left, until exhaustion numbed her mind. As the sun climbed higher into the sky, Hermione forced herself to her feet again. She didn't know where to start, but she had to try.

She pulled out the scrap of parchment where she had once written her parents' alias and address—a faint hope of making things work.