WARNING:

This story contains rape. If that makes you uncomfortable, then I'm sorry, but there's something very simple that will solve your problem. Don't read my story. See? That way, we both win.

Broken

"I don't love you," he told her for the millionth time.

"I'm not asking you to," she replied.

They both knew it. They didn't try to kid themselves. This thing, this monstrosity, that they shared wasn't love. Wasn't anything like love. Wasn't close to ever becoming love. To him, she was just a means to an end. To her, he was nothing more than an escape. They both had something in common, though: they both wanted to forget. He wanted to forget his miserable existence of always being told what to do and never getting a chance to speak his mind or make his own choices. She wanted to forget about her lonely existence of being the know-it-all; the sister, the friend, but never anything else. Even if they didn't love each other or even like each other that well, when they were together it was so much easier to pretend they were actually wanted by someone.

It hadn't always been like this for them. The first time, it had been rape. Cruel, cold, heartless rape.

She was heading for the Room of Requirement. She needed a quiet place where she could just relax and be herself, away from the incessant annoyance of her "friends." He was also heading to the Room of Requirement. He needed a quiet place to relax and be himself, away from the annoying nagging of his "girlfriend." She would have gone to the library, but it was midnight and the library closed at nine. He would have gone to the Astronomy Tower, but it was Wednesday and there was a class up there. When she reached the room she discovered he was already there, pacing in front of the wall. She reached where he was, and they stood there, glaring daggers at each other.

"What are you doing here, Mudblood?" he hissed.

"I could ask you the same thing, Ferrett," she replied coolly. For the last few months, it seemed like they couldn't even pass each other in the corridor without fighting. And they fought about everything; from the state of his socks to the bushiness of her hair.

"I'm just taking a walk," he said smoothly. "Why don't you run along? All sorts of things could happen to a mudblood like yourself at this time of night."

"Are you threatening me, Ferrett?" She took a step towards him; now she was close enough that she had to look up to see into his storm grey eyes.

"Would you like it if I did?" he asked softly. His comment caught her off guard. Before she could say anything, he opened a door that had not been there a moment before and shoved her in. He pushed her so hard that she fell to the floor; when she sat up and got her senses back she realized that he was locking the door.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" she cried. She hoped her voice didn't betray the tiny twinge of fear she felt-after all, he was a known Death Eater, and he had caught her wandless.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he bent down and grabbed her forearm, dragged her forcefully to her feet, and pushed her up against the nearest wall. Before she even had time to register what was happening to her, he had crushed his lips down on hers with bruising force.

She kicked, screamed, and thrashed against him, but he wasn't phased at all. He didn't even try to stop her cries; she figured he must have requested that the room be soundproof. In fact, every time she thrashed or kicked or hit him, he only seemed to enjoy the situation more. He slipped his hands up her robes and when she pushed at his fingers to stop him, he gathered both her wrists in his hands and pushed her arms above her head, where they wouldn't be in the way. When she finally realized that no matter what she did, he wasn't going to let her go, she slumped against him, defeated.

By the time he was done with her, dawn was spilling through the window on the far side of the room. She watched as he left and slammed the door behind him from her spot on the floor, where she lay bruised, bloodied, and broken.

She hated him with a passion after that. Every time she would see him and he would send a secret, obnoxious, all-knowing smirk her way, her hatred would be fueled a little more. But for some reason she knew, deep down within her, that because he had been the one to take her innocence away from her, she would be forever his. That night in the Room of Requirement he had branded her in his own, sick, sadistic way. And there was nothing she could do about it. From that night on she had ceased to be just Hermione Granger. Now she was Hermione Granger, who was owned by Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Dun, dun, dun!

So, those of you that made it past the warning, how did you like it? It's short, I know, but it's really just an introduction. A very good one, if I might add. This might be one of the best examples of my writing to date. Don't agree? Fine. LOL.

I just got this idea like, just now and wrote all 832 words of it in a space of like, five minutes. Yay me.

Dedicated To:

Andrea LeFan

-and-

Everyone who likes bagpipe music