Penance

Hermione opened the creaky door to the room she and Ginny had shared during the summer months. Everything was dusty once more, all the work they had put into cleaning the house was for naught. Not a thing was out of place since the last time she’d been here with…she shook her head. She wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t, it was too hard. She walked slowly into the room, hand running along the wall, memories threatening to overwhelm her. She had come here for solace, for privacy. She was tired of the continuous questions, the pity. Are you alright? How are you feeling? Do you need anything? To everyone else she was “Yes, fine, no, I don’t need anything.” But inside she was screaming “No, I’m not alright, I’ll never be alright again. How am I feeling? Like my heart has been ripped from my chest and trampled on. The only thing I need are my friends back, my life.”

Why couldn’t people understand that she just wanted to be alone? She had done her duty; she had appeared at the mass funeral. She had helped Ginny throughout the service, she had offered condolences to family members of ones who had died, she had escorted Molly Weasley back to her husband when she had fallen over Fred’s grave. She hadn’t cried. She’d had no tears. But now, alone, she could do what she needed to do.

Hermione fell upon the bed she had used, her head turned towards the nightstand. There sat a picture, a picture of dreams, of happiness. She reached out her hand and drew the frame to her, sitting up. Her shaky fingers caressed the dusty glass, flowing over the faces of her family, the reason she had woke every day, her life. She watched as drops hit the surface. Tears, her tears.

Ron’s goofy second-year grin was smiling up at her and she smiled back. Across her mind flashed a bloody, blank face with dull blue eyes staring sightlessly out at her, his body crumpled on the grass, never to move again. A sob wrenched in her throat as more images flew across her vision: his tongue poking out between his teeth as he deliberated over a chess board, him begging her to help him correct and assignment, his lips on hers, holding her…

She hadn’t realized she’d left the bed until her knees were hitting the ground. She doubled over, thinking she was going to be sick. She could see Harry, see him fighting Voldemort, saw the curse, tried to get to him but something held her back-

Malfoy. Malfoy had held her back. She had screamed and fought but he wouldn’t let her go to him, help him. Harry fell to the ground, motionless, his eyes looking at her, asking why, why hadn’t she helped him?

“I’m sorry!” she cried over and over again, the sobs wrenching forth from her chest. Why had this happened? Why was she alone? They had been there even after her parents….they had been her family and they had left her too. They had all gone…

The creak of a floorboard had her looking up. Kreacher? Had he come back too?

A boot pushed open the door and she fell back against the bed as a Death Eater walked in, silver mask shining.

“Hello, my dear,” drawled a cold voice. She knew that voice…

“Lucius,” she accused, her hand falling slowly into her lap so that she might be able to find her pocket and grab her wand…

“Ah, ah ah-,” he sang. In an instant he had her wand in his hand as she dove for it. She was thrown back against the side of the bed and she dropped the picture, heard it shatter. She was lifted off the ground in an invisible choke hold, her trachea falling in, preventing air. She clawed at the hand that wasn’t there and Lucius advanced on her.

“Now, why is the little mudblood here, alone?”

Hermione gargled, tried to bring in air. She didn’t fight as she had that night, the fight had left her.

“You must have known that this was under our grasp. Why would you walk right into our trap? It was like,” his whipped his mask off, his bright grey eyes looking straight into her own. “Fate.”

The choking stopped and she coughed. She was still suspended in the air, eye level with the monster who had taken Ron from her.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said, spitting in his face. He calmly reached into his cloak, retracted a handkerchief, wiped his face, and replaced the scrap of fabric.

Smack! He hit her across the face so hard her head rolled to the side, her neck straining.

“You will be.”

She felt herself flying across the room and she crashed into the dresser, screaming in pain as the expensive wood held strong and she bounced off it like a rag doll, falling to the floor where a drawer toppled on top of her, hitting her in the temple and making her vision swim. She fought the fog that surrounded her and was dragged back out.

“Crucio!”

She fell to the floor again, her body snapping back and forth, her bones breaking like twigs, her insides boiling. She could feel herself screaming but she was deaf, her world grey. When the pain stopped she saw his face and she clawed it, dragging her nails across his pristine cheek. She opened her mouth in a silent scream as the pain overtook her. A knife was carving into her, down her chest, across her arms, her legs. Her eyes were wide as she watched the blood run, puddle on the floor. Then he was grabbing her, dragging her up, tossing her on the bed. She kicked out catching him in the face. He fell back, grabbing his mouth. He spat out a tooth and Hermione rolled, ran, but he caught her, throwing her back. She hit the bed and crawled to her hands and knees, trying to get over it to put space between them but he grabbed her hips and dragged her back, her nails catching purchase of the sheets. She felt them tear beneath her as she fought but he flipped her over so she was facing him. He grabbed her by the hair and brought his face very close to hers.

“I like it more when they fight,” he said then bit down hard on her jaw, his sharp teeth slicing into her skin. She cried out and hit him, kicked him, her bloody limbs flailing. She felt a chunk of hair rip loose from her scalp as she beat his arm away. With a flick of his wrist her hands flew above her head, cementing to the bed. She kicked out with both legs at once, catching him in the gut and chucking him back, onto the floor. Now would be the perfect time to run, to aparate, but she was stuck, held down by the spell. She watched with satisfaction as he doubled over. She screamed again as the open wounds were sliced into for the second time, making the blood run fresh, coating her skin as the pain consumed her. She couldn’t think over it as her eyes rolled. It took her a long time to realize he was back, looming over her. She felt her hips being lifted and opened her eyes to the horror. He was dragging her black skirt off, along with her modest panties. She screamed in pretest and bucked against him, kicking again but he stilled her with another Cruciatus Curse. When she could breathe and think she remembered and kicked instinctively, but her leg didn’t move. When her eyes flew open she saw that he had done the same to her legs as her arms, gluing her feet to the mattress so she was spread wide and bare to his gaze. The tears already flowing doubled as she watched him unbutton his trousers. Her mind was screaming at her and she fought, but nothing worked.

This can’t be happening! her mind bellowed. She sobbed and yelled, hoping against hope someone would come, anyone. But they didn’t. She knew with a certainty that she was going to die. She was going to be raped and tortured and then she would die. Her body shook in terror and she closed her eyes, wishing it were all a dream. But she knew it wasn’t when she felt his fingers down there, opening her to him. She knew what happened between a man and a woman, but it scared her. This was supposed to be Ron and he was supposed to ease her into the idea of those kinds of relations. But Ron was gone and here she was, subject to the sick and twisted Lucius Malfoy. She could feel his penis press against her opening and she clenched her eyes harder, trying to think of something else, anything else that would help her get through this. She brought the comforting image of Ron and Harry to her mind as she felt him pushing in. She screamed in agony as her body was split in two by her core.

“Look at me!” he bellowed and her eyes were snapped open and she was forced to watch as he pounded into her over and over and over. She begged for death, for release from this torture. The pain was too much, she’d never survive this. It never ended, it went on and on. He grunted and laughed above her as he slammed into her harder and harder. His pace quickened and Hermione wished she could close her eyes and float away to bliss.

Then it was over. He had groaned and his hips were flush against her own. He pulled out slowly after a moment, his eyes on her nether regions. He touched her and showed her his fingers. Blood and a whitish substance coated them. He rubbed it against her lips as she whipped her head this way and that to escape it. Then she opened her mouth and bit down hard on his fingers. He howled in pain as the iron taste of blood and salt filled her mouth. He tugged but she wouldn’t release. Then she was thrown away from him, crashing to the ground.

“Lucius! Are you here? Come quick, leave the girl!” came a voice from outside the door.

“I told you I was not to be disturbed,” he said menacingly, wiping the blood from his hand and glaring at her.

“It’s about the boy…”

Lucius whipped about and strode to the door. A masked Death Eater stood there and they conversed lowly. Then they left and she was alone.

All alone.

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Hermione sat up with a gasp. She looked around the dark room, trying to gather her bearings. There was something beside her and she looked down and saw blonde. She jumped from the bed, escaping and Lucius sat up. She backed away, her hand going to her robes for her wand, except her robes were gone, her wand…where was it? She turned to run but he called her name.

“Hermione, stop! What’s wrong?”

She skid to a halt, her heart thudding in her chest, her hand on the doorknob. She heard footsteps coming towards her and she was frozen. What had happened to his voice?

Arms came around her and she fought them.

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s me, it’s Draco. Stop, stop fighting me.”

Draco…

Her knees gave out and she slipped but he caught her, picked her up, walking with her back to the bed. She grabbed onto his neck, burying her face in the comforting warmth. It had been so real this time, her limbs were still aching. She was embarrassed and she apologized over and over but he just held her. Her mind was having a hard time wrapping around everything. She was disoriented, her mind still reeling from the dream, she knew now she had been dreaming, and from what had happened between her and Draco. They’d had sex and he had broken her hymen. But it was impossible…she knew it had broken with Lucius, all the blood…she knew it had really happened, she had the scars to prove it. And the evidence she had already rid herself of…

"I don't understand..." she sighed.

Draco didn't ask what she meant, he already knew. "It's an old magic..." he said. "It started long ago, I don't know when or how. There is a spell to repair a woman's innocence. It was made so sick wizards could rape young, innocent women and the women wouldn't be able to prove it. It's a Dark magic, I didn't even know it was performed anymore. It was passed down through Dark lines." His expression went dark. "You can be sure it will die with my father."

Hermione nodded, grateful she knew what had happened even as she was sickened by the thought. She wasn't crazy, she hadn't made anything up. He believed her.

And Draco…he had been so comforting, so understanding. Even now he was holding her, calming her. Since when had this man overcome the Malfoy she’d known just yesterday? How could he have changed so much?

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’s always been this way but you couldn’t let the past go and allow him to show you…

She couldn’t hate herself any more.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered one last time.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It was a nightmare, we all have them,” he said gently, holding her tighter.

“No, I’m sorry for not giving you a chance. I’m sorry for being such a…”

“Bitch?” he offered.

She laughed. “Yeah, that.”

She felt him smile against her cheek. “You’re forgiven. And I’m sorry for being such an-,”

“Arse?”

He barked out a laugh. “Well I was going to say incredibly handsome man but I suppose that works too.”

They laughed together and he brought her face back, cupping her head. His lips descended upon her and he kissed her slowly, sweetly. She melted against him. It felt so wonderful, so unlike anything else she had felt…

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered against her swollen lips. His fingers searched her face and he looked into her eyes.

“Really?” she asked incredulously.

“Hermione, you’ve had me wrapped around your finger for years. Then after the Battle, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go on without telling you…but I had to give you time. You’d lost your parents, Potter, and Weasley all in one day. Then you were gone. There wasn’t a trace of you anywhere. We searched for months, Hermione. Ginny never stopped. But you were gone.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she kissed him. “I just couldn’t…after…I was a wreck. I almost couldn’t aparate but I did…I-I couldn’t come back. I snapped, I couldn’t face anyone, I was so ashamed. There was nothing left to live for there…the only way to survive was to start anew. Then when I found out-,” she stopped short. Dear Merlin, had she almost just said it?

“What? Found out what?”

“I-er…that, that I wanted to be a doctor, I stayed,” she finished lamely.

He looked as if he didn’t believe her but he said nothing. Hermione pulled herself out of his grasp and stood, facing his questioning eyes.

“I need to er, use the loo…” she pointed to the hall. He nodded and she escaped, falling to her knees in front of the toilet, heaving. Nothing came but she couldn’t stop. She trembled, her hands grasping the edges of the dirty chamber pot. She took deep breaths and stared at the plain wood of the closed door. It was dark, the only light coming from the sinking moon through a window over the rusty tub. She leaned back against the tub, hooking her arms around her knees, holding herself together for if she let go, she was going to shatter into a millions pieces on the floor. She stayed there a long time. He never came and she was grateful. Her grief washed over her and she was almost sick again. How could she?

You had to, she told herself. She knew, she knew she had had no other choice but it still tore her up inside. The tears fell silently and she lay on the dirty linoleum, her legs to her chest as she had so many times before.

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Draco stood outside the closed door and heard her sniff, knew she was trying not to cry aloud so he wouldn’t hear. He leaned his forehead against the warping wood and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to do. Would she forever look at him and see his father? Would he terrify her every time she woke to him after her nightmare?

Yes, he tortured himself. You look too much like him. She’ll always wonder…

He walked back to the small bedroom and lay on the bed, exhausted. He would take her back tomorrow, no more of this train, car, bus nonsense. He’d learned what he needed to know, had found out she felt for him as he did for her. But now he had to let her go. He would torment her with simply his face; he would bring those horrible memories back. He couldn’t do that to her, not now that he knew how much she meant to him. Rolling over, he closed his eyes. He would take her back home in the morning.

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Hermione didn’t look up when she heard the bathroom door open, simply continued to stare between her knees to the dirty tile below her.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said to the floor. She gasped when she felt ropes bind her wrists and ankles, her body snapping up into a standing position and she stared wide eyed at the Death Eater before her.

“Where’s the kid?”

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A/N: I just adore cliff hangers :)

XOXO

RynStar15