DISCLAIMER: As usual. All recognizable people and places belong to JK. The only thing that came from me is the plot.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Umm… 7th year, non HBP compliant ONE-SHOT. Written as a late entry to a fic exchange. Most of the plot bunnies that have been visiting me lately have been extremely twisted, and this one's no exception. (This bunny has teeth!) But the request didn't exclude anything, save a sappy, weak, or redeemed Draco, and on that point I think, or at least hope, that I delivered. Thanks to Alex25 for beta-ing, and for giving me an honest-to-god full-fledged belly laugh by actually calling this ficlet "cute"!

WARNING: Language, RAPE

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She was in her window seat reading when he kicked in the door.

If he had known then that he was reacting in exactly the way they had fervently hoped he would- but of course, he didn't know. All he knew was what he had seen with his own eyes not two hours ago- His own girlfriend, his Hermione, locked in a carnal embrace with bloody Weasley- he had trusted her, goddamnit, he had LOVED her- it felt as if his heart had been ripped right out of his body- and here she sat, as if nothing had ever happened, and oh no, oh FUCKING no, he was not going to let this stand, he was going to hurt her as badly as she had hurt him, he was going to make her pay and pay and fucking pay some more.

He was across the room by the time she had stood, her book falling to the carpeted floor, alarm dawning on her face. He reached her just as she began, "Draco, what-?"

Cutting her off, he seized her by the upper arms hard enough to bruise and flung her down onto the bed, falling heavily on top of her, pinning her down.

The alarm on her face was quickly being replaced by panic and he was savagely glad to see it. "Draco, stop it," she gasped, struggling for breath beneath him. "What are you-? I can't breathe!"

"Good," he snarled. "You don't fucking deserve to breathe. Did you think I'd never find out? Do you think I'm STUPID?"

The expression in her eyes, confusion battling with fear, was so convincing that he had to applaud her despite himself- she was one hell of an actress, that was for sure. She had fooled him, after all, fooled him for months, perhaps, and he didn't fool easy. And oh, was he ever pissed off that he had allowed her to get under his skin, to impair his judgment, to make him fucking love her. He had been willing to wait forever, but now-

Now he was going to claim her, and then have done with her. He never wanted to see the slut again. But first there was the small matter of taking what she had been denying him for months- denying him, but not, apparently, Weasley.

"I fucking SAW YOU!" he shouted down at her. "All this time you've been telling me it wasn't the right time, you weren't ready- all this time-" He broke off then, because he realized that tears were actually threatening and he

Was.

Not.

Going to bloody well cry.

Not over her.

She would be the one crying, when he got through with her.

Actually, she was very nearly crying now.

Good.

In a minute, she'd have something to cry about.

He eased off momentarily and she dragged in a deep, hitching breath. She began to struggle in earnest, though, when she realized that the only reason he had partially raised himself was to better divest them both of certain key items of clothing. He responded to her struggles by forcing both her arms above her head and then employing a binding spell to keep them there. He briefly considered gagging her, but decided against it. Let her cry, let her beg. In his current frame of mind, it was music to his ears.

"Draco- NO!" she shouted, and then the tears were there, spilling from her wide, frightened dark eyes. "You can't- you p-promised- I don't know what you think you saw, but-"

He had hauled off and slapped her before he had even realized his intent to do so. How dare she, even now, when he so clearly knew, when he had just told her he had SEEN- how dare she even now try to play innocent? It was actually taking, he realized with a dim and distant sort of surprise, most of his will power to refrain from wrapping his fingers around her neck and squeezing and squeezing and-

But no. He wasn't going to kill her. Merely take what was rightfully his and then have done with the lying whore.

"Shhh," he hushed her almost gently as a bright red handprint flared on her cheek. "Quiet now, love. Just lie there and take it like the little whore you are, and then you'll never have to see me again. I'm leaving tonight; I don't want to even be on the same fucking continent as you any more. Not after what I saw today. So Shhh." And for good measure he placed a hand over her mouth, covering it completely as she stared up at him with huge, terrified eyes that were absolutely flooded with tears.

He found that even as righteously angry as he was, he couldn't keep looking into those eyes without losing his resolve- God, where had she learned to act this well?- and so he removed both his eyes and his hand from her face. He needed both hands, anyway, to force her legs apart and rip her nightshirt down the front. The panties he exposed were pale pink cotton and unembellished- easily the most virginal undergarments he had ever laid eyes on- Pansy would have laughed them to scorn- and that in itself enraged him further; where did she get off wearing these things after what he had seen her doing a scant couple of hours before? She had been moving like a bloody pro then.

As he hooked his thumbs underneath them and ripped them viciously from her body, she gave an incoherent cry through her tears- but she did not speak. He couldn't tell whether this was because she feared being struck again, or whether she was actually incapable of forming words due to the fact that she was now quite literally hyperventilating; her breath coming so shallow and rapid that he half wondered if she were going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

He lowered his head over hers until their noses were nearly touching, hardening his heart against the pleading in her eyes as he positioned himself at her entrance, hands now holding her hips steady in a bruising, vicelike grip. He could feel her entire body taut and trembling beneath him.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, the very softness of his tone a mockery. "After all, it's not like this is anything new for you, is it?"

She shook her head frantically, tears pouring from her eyes down the sides of her face to lose themselves in the tumult of her dark hair, which was fanned out beneath her on the bed. It wasn't until he began to move, though, thrusting into her almost gently at first, savoring the feel of just his head encased within her warm, trembling body, that she spoke again, the words tumbling out over each other, so deep was her apparent distress.

"Dra-Draco, s-stop," she managed, between frantic, hitching breaths, "you can't…you can't, not like this, please, God…nuh-NO!"

(He had just pushed in another inch and oh God she was tight, she felt like a virgin, and how in the hell did she manage that after he had just seen her riding Weasley like a fucking pony?)

"Nuh- nuh- it hurts! Oh God, Draco, it hurts. Stop- uh- hurts- please stop!"

And he would have, too, if he'd had to listen to those desperate pleas any longer; they sounded so real, the pain in her voice almost palpable, and why the hell was she still acting! So he hushed her again, this time by lowering his lips to hers and claiming her in a deep, demanding kiss.

Thus it was that he was actually able to drink her scream as, with one decisive thrust, he buried himself in her up to the hilt, her body arching like a bow right off the bed and dear God, was that a barrier he had just broken? But he had no time to dwell on it because she was so tight around him, so fucking tight it hurt, and yet was the most exquisite pleasure he had ever felt- no other girl he'd had had felt like this- and her frantic bucking beneath him, a futile attempt to get him off- to get him out of her- pushed him right over the brink and he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to. A half-dozen hard thrusts later he was exploding within her, flooding her with his seed.

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He broke the kiss and raised himself off her slowly, pulling out as he did so, looking down into dark eyes that were still leaking tears but were now unfocused, rapidly glazing over with apparent shock. It occurred to him belatedly that he was quite well-endowed, and she had been dry, and it was entirely possible that he had hurt her, and oh God, he saw now, as he pushed himself up to stand beside the bed, releasing her arms from their bonds with a word, that she was bleeding. Rather a lot.

His heart gave a painful twist within his chest, but he stomped savagely on the beginnings of remorse before they could take root and grow. He was not going to feel guilty about this, damn it all to hell. He may have hurt her, but she had hurt him first. He may have ravaged her body, but she had ravaged his soul. Her body would heal. He had no such convictions about his soul. For her to have betrayed him like that, with bloody Weasley of all people- he had always suspected there'd been something there- and after everything he had given up for her; all the sacrifices he had made- that did it. His anger returned in a crimson tide and he reached down and seized her by the shoulders.

She made no response. She seemed well and truly out of it.

"Pull yourself together, Granger," he snarled as he yanked her up and set her on her feet. "Go and clean up. You're a mess."

He let her go and she crumpled immediately, soundlessly, to the floor. He stood staring down at her for a long moment where she half-lay, half-slumped against the side of the bed. Finally, "all right, then," he said, "if you want keep carrying on as if I just robbed you of your virginity, go right ahead. But I don't know who you think you're fooling. I bloody well saw you! I just hope you think it was worth it. Goodbye, Granger."

He turned for the door, but before passing through it could not resist a single glance back over his shoulder.

She had pulled herself into a fetal position- a tight little ball- and she looked so small like that, in her shredded clothes, and her face was hidden behind all that hair, that luxurious, dark hair he had loved so well, and she was shaking from head to foot- not the taut trembling of when he had been atop her, but deep shudders that wracked her body, as from fever.

It hurt him to see her like that, despite his rage.

So he stopped looking, and left her lying there.

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He stood in the doorway of his room for a long moment- he and Hermione were the only students in Hogwarts to have their own rooms, due to the fact that they were Head Boy and Head Girl, respectively- and took in the damage he had done in the two hours or so between the moment he had caught her with Weasley and the moment he had burst through her door to exact his revenge. The massive canopy bed in the middle of the room was the only piece of furniture that remained upright- and that was not for lack of trying. Everything else had been overturned, books and belongings scattered about, papers and clothing littering the floor.

There was no telling how long he may have remained standing there, in an almost trancelike state, had his attention not been drawn to the window by an insistent tapping there. The window had somehow, miraculously, managed to remain unbroken throughout the maelstrom of his rage, and on the outer sill an owl perched, hopping from foot to foot in an attempt to keep warm on this snowy midwinter night, and tap tap tapping on the glass with its beak.

He walked slowly over to the window, picking his way through the chaos he had created earlier, unlatched the window and admitted the owl, which he recognized as Pansy's. He would see what message was important enough to cause his former girlfriend to send her owl out in weather like this- then he would start packing.

Fuck Hogwarts. He didn't need to stick around and take his N.E.W.T.s in order to secure himself a place high up in the Dark Lord's hierarchy. It was his birthright. A birthright he'd been going to deny for Hermione's sake, but- to hell with that mudblood whore. He would travel until he was called into service. One thing was for goddamn certain; he was through here.

He fairly ripped the parchment from the owl's leg; the bird, with an indignant screech, took flight immediately, swiping at Draco as it did so. It was fortunate for the owl that it missed him; in his present state of mind he would not have hesitated to kill it if it had scratched him; with his bare hands if he'd been able to catch it, or his wand if not.

He wrenched off the pale green satin ribbon, a trademark of Pansy's correspondence, and unrolled the note, wrinkling his nose in pure disgust at the flowery scent of the parchment. God, his ex. He must have been off his rocker to have ever dated her in the first place. Simpering, clingy, pug-faced little social climber. After that travesty of a relationship, how glad he'd been to stumble into Hermione's arms. She'd seemed everything that Pansy wasn't. And now… well, now he was off women, that was all. Off them for good. Not off fucking, mind, but off caring; he would never care again, so help him God.

He almost just crumpled the letter up and tossed it aside- almost. But in the end he read it, starting hurriedly, wanting only to get through it; past it; and on with his plans of removing himself from this hell hole of a school, posthaste.

And what he read was this:

My Dearest Draco,

Blaise told me most strictly not to write this note, but I must, for I can hardly contain my excitement! The plan worked perfectly, and by now I am confident that you have carried out your part in it just as flawlessly as we did a few hours ago. All right, all right, I'm sure you are wondering what plan I am referring to. I shall tell you, even though Blaise will kill me for it! But then he won't really, because you won't let him, will you? Because everything is set right now, and we can be together again! See, I couldn't stand to watch you sullying yourself with that mudblood anymore, Draco, it was unbearable! Can't you understand how much better you are than that? She's hardly fit to breathe the same air as you or I, don't you see? It was like watching you romance a house elf! Disgusting! I think she must have enchanted you. In any case, it had to end. So Blaise and I hatched this plan- hee, I can't believe he never wanted to tell you, ever- it's simply too delicious, I could hardly keep the secret until today- he got hold of some Polyjuice Potion through a connection of his outside school, and then- have you guessed yet? I'll bet you have-

(At this point Draco's legs went out and he collapsed to his knees on the floor)

-I was Granger and he was Weasley! Isn't that the most ingenious thing you've ever heard! We set it all up so you'd walk in on us like that- he wanted to be Granger just to mix things up a bit a get a little kinky, but I said absolutely not; it had to be me because I could work through the pain- I just knew that prissy little bitch would be a virgin- and boys are such babies when it comes to pain. He would never have made it look convincing. But look, I'm getting all off-topic now. The point is, by the time you get this letter, I'm betting that you will have removed Granger from the equation- maybe even permanently (a girl can hope, eh?) and we can be together again! I will understand if it takes you a little while to come around I imagine you've been through a lot today, if the look on your face when you caught us out is anything to judge by! But I have confidence that you will come to agree Blaise and I had your best interests at heart. We just knew it would take something dramatic to break whatever spell she had you under, you see? You won't be too angry, will you, Draco? You can't, because you and I are meant to be. I see it, my parents see it, your parents see it, our friends see it- so I know you'll come around. Whatever you did to that uppity mudblood cow, she earned it, for daring to suppose that she deserved to be with a pureblood. With you! Unfortunately, I fear that old fool Dumbledore might not see things our way- so I will understand if you have to go into hiding for a while, until our Lord comes into power. I shall wait for you faithfully, my only love!

Yours Always,

Pansy

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Name/Pen Name: Saranna/SlytherinsWench
Rating(s) of the fic you want: R+
Three things you want your fic to include: anything, but for the things listed below
Three things you do not want your fic to include: redeemed Draco, sappy Draco, weak Draco