The Forbidden Corridor

All related names, places etc. are owned primarily by J.K Rowling, and owned and copyrighted by Warner Bros.

A/N: This first chapter will be quite heavy, as I have a very bad incident happen straight off, so be warned, it may be uncomfortable reading. Unfortunately, this frankly horrible event is integral to the plot. I would also like to say I don't dislike Hermione despite what I put her through, and sorry to all Draco lovers for making him so vile. Don't be discouraged:)

The Forbidden Corridor

At the end of a late-night study session in the Library at Hogwarts, Britain's most prestigious school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione Granger looked at the clock, reading half past ten, and yawned. Madam Pince rolled her eyes and impatiently tapped at her bare wrist, indicating that Hermione's time was up and she should quit the library for the day.

Sighing, Hermione gathered her books and parchments, recorked her ink bottles, and, stuffing them into her bag, proceeded out of the library, with a friendly "good night" to Madam Pince, who nodded briefly in reply.

Heading back to the Gryffindor common room, she found her route inconveniently blocked by a marsh of Peeves' creation, the ability to pull such stunts bequeathed to him by Fred and George Weasley who had left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory after tiring of Umbridge's tyranny last year. Sighing, Hermione knew she would have to take the detour to the common room via the third floor corridor.

It was unsafe, Dumbledore had said to use the corridor after dark. There was no lighting, the walls bore no sentient paintings, and rumour had it that even Hogwarts' most fearsome spirit, Slytherin's Bloody Baron, refused to haunt this walkway

Nevertheless, Hermione was tired, and desperate to sink beneath her warm, clean feathery duvet, to drift into blissful sleep, perchance to dream up some more answers to slip into her Runes essay. Besides, she had taken this path many times with her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and nothing untoward had ever happened.

"Lumos," she whispered to her wand, and a bright ray of light emanated from her vine-wood and dragon heartstring wand. She walked briskly along the dank stone corridor, keen to get back to her dormitory. She ignored the occasional shuffling sound behind her, putting it down to the spirits in the castle.

She was nearing the end of the corridor closest to the Gryffindor common room, when a pale, cold hand reached out and clamped a hand on her mouth.

"Hello, Granger," an equally cold voice hissed.

Hermione felt strong, chunky fingers from a hot hand grab her right arm and twist it violently up her back. She refused, however, to relent the grip on her lit wand.

Another icy hand, much like the one upon her mouth, began to caress her neck. "Come on, dear," the voice whispered coldly. "Drop the wand."

"No," Hermione hissed behind the freezing cupped hand.

"Okay," the voice, which Hermione recognised a belonging to Draco Malfoy. "The price you pay for non-compliance is simple. Vincent, break the bitch's arm."

Hermione's other assailant, Malfoy's second-in-command, Vincent Crabbe, twisted Hermione's arm even further up her back, at an unnatural angle. She screamed in agony, as a burning pain shot from her shoulder to her wrist; she heard three snaps and two pops as her arm broke in several places at ones, and her wrist and shoulder dislocated, yet still she retained a death-grip on her precious wand.

"Okay, Granger," Malfoy snarled calmly. "You leave me no choice. Gregory, cop a hold of this nasty little Mudblood. I need to disarm her!"

Hermione felt two chunky arms, belonging to Gregory Goyle, Malfoy's other henchman. The tree-trunk like limbs wrapped so tightly around her, she felt a burning pain as two of her ribs broke as Goyle squeezed her tighter and tighter, so that she couldn't breathe, let alone scream. Perhaps mercifully so, because Hermione was sure if she did scream, her punishment would be worse.

Malfoy gave Goyle an appraising look, knowing what he'd just done. He produced his wand, a black onyx wand bought for him by his father a few short months before he was unjustly, in Malfoy's eyes, sent to Azkaban. He pointed it at Hermione's painful, shaking hand. "Sectumsempra!" he hollered, moving his new wand in a slashing motion.

Before Hermione had time to realise it was not the traditional Expelliarmus spell associated with disarming, she felt a sharp pain, like a dagger had just ripped through her arm, and this time she couldn't help but scream. Wet, warm blood poured down her hand and onto her wand, dulling the light and giving it a crimson glow. She fought back tears, determined not to let Malfoy see her cry.

She could see his thin pale face leering at her, bathed in bloody light. He shook his head.

"Throw the bitch on the floor," he commanded to Goyle, who obliged, putting his ample weight behind the toss, sending Hermione, minus her bag, hurtling against a limestone wall, which cracked her right jaw, before she tumbled to the floor.

"Right then, my pretty," Malfoy's voice said to the prone Hermione. "Are you gonna drop the damn wand now?"

Hermione nodded, her jaw causing her considerable pain as she did, which made her whimper. Malfoy slapped her sharply across the face for daring to make such a noise. Meanwhile, Goyle and Crabbe were emptying the contents of her bag on the floor, and destroying the contents: her textbooks, her hard work, which was all for nothing. She heard a bottle of ink smash near her left ear, only to find it had been thrown at her on purpose, the bottle had hit her face, and some shards of the crystal phial had embedded themselves in her raw cheek She tasted the bitter liquid as it dribbled into her mouth.

Now Malfoy was kneeling by her body, a hand burrowing into her blouse. "Hey," he said in a sinister soft voice, which chilled Hermione. "Hey baby, don't cry. All you've got to do is drop your wand, and we'll leave you be. Okay?"

Foolishly, Hermione believed him. Slowly, she uncurled the swollen fingers on her injured hand, letting her wand roll to the floor.

"Good girl," whispered Malfoy, above the ripping sounds that were still echoing around the corridor. "For that, you get a reward." He knelt astride Hermione, and roughly pulled her shirt open, and tugged it from her shoulders, causing it to tear nearly in half. He reached behind her, bearing his weight down on her so she wouldn't struggle, as he removed her bra, white and lacy, surprisingly sexy for the Mudblood brainiac.

"Very nice," Malfoy drawled, taking a nipple into his mouth and biting on it hard. When Hermione squealed in discomfort, he slapped her once again, driving the glass further into her face.

"There," he said, reaching for Hermione's jeans and unbuttoning them, pulling them roughly down, along with her panties. Clutching his wand, he rested the tip of it on Hermione's thigh. "Diffindio!" he snarled, as the sturdy material ripped, from crotch down to the leg, and all Malfoy had to do was pull those, and her useless, cut-up panties, to one side.

Quickly and unexpectedly, he then thrust his wand between Hermione's legs. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound as the cold wand was pushed roughly inside her, and winced as Malfoy moved it carelessly inside her.

"What's that?" he growled. "Enjoying that? Want something more… spectacular? Well, that can be arranged." He withdrew, and discarded his dirty, bloodied wand, and reached to unzip himself.

Hermione knew what was coming, but had no idea that evil Malfoy could do something this bad, this nasty, and this corrupt. As it happened, she screwed up her eyes, partly in pain, partly because she didn't want to witness what was happening to her.

Pinning her shoulders to the ground, especially leaning on her injured right side, Malfoy made the experience all the worse for Hermione. To stop her eyes from desperately leaking the tears she so wanted to shed, she began screaming out.

"Open… your eyes… and look at ME!" Malfoy demanded as he thrust violently upon Hermione. "And shut up… you dirty Mudblood!" His hand nastily slapped her glass-spiked, inky cheek.

Reluctantly, Hermione opened her eyes wide and found her head wrenched to the side, where she could see the shadows of Crabbe and Goyle watching Hermione take her 'punishment' from Malfoy.

Finally, Malfoy decided enough was enough. He tucked his shame away, picked up his wand, and stood up, making sure to tread hard on Hermione's right ankle as he did. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it, Granger?" he said sweetly, as he wiped his wand on his jet-black robes. "Greg, it's your turn."

It started happening again, only this time, with the weight of Goyle bearing down on her broken ribs, it was even more uncomfortable for Hermione. Her lungs were squashed flat and she couldn't breathe. Just as she was about to collapse into a sweet oblivion, she felt Goyle finally release her. As she took a cleansing gulp of air, she felt a foot in her face, which broke her nose and split her septum.

"Vince!" Malfoy chided Crabbe in mock horror. "Did you really need to do that to such a beautiful lady?"

Crabbe snorted. "Well, she ain't so beautiful now, is she," he scoffed, poking Hermione in the ribs, exactly where one of the broken ones was. The pain was so bad, she finally passed out, and her head slumped to one side.

By the time she came round, she found Crabbe, kneeling over her. He had obviously got what he wanted from her defenceless, unconscious body, and was about to leave her, used and discarded, where she was. "She's a good ride," Crabbe said as he got to his feet. "For a filthy little Mudblood."

Malfoy knelt down next to the stricken Hermione and stroked her hair, damp with terror sweat. "Did you enjoy that, sweetness?" he asked, kissing her forehead cynically.

Hermione lay there whimpering in pain, trying hard not to let tears come to her eyes. Why did you do that to me? she wanted to ask Malfoy. Do you hate me that much? Just give me a reason, and I'll never tell a soul… Just leave me alone.

"What's that?" Malfoy asked. "You did? You want some more?"

Hermione shook her head stiffly, eyes wide. She was too afraid to close them.

"We'll do this again sometime," Malfoy said, in a mock-reassuring voice. "You'll get used to it, don't worry." He picked up Hermione's torn knickers and shoved them in his pocket. "I'll keep these to remind me of the good times we had." He indicated Hermione's other clothes to his cronies. "Greg… Vince… help yourselves."

Crabbe and Goyle gathered up the remainder of Hermione's torn clothes, and began to walk away.

"See you around, sweetheart," Malfoy snorted, following his cronies, kicking Hermione hard in the ribs as he left her

Unable to get up, her broken ankle swollen to twice its size now, Hermione Granger lay naked and ashamed, freezing in the cold corridor. Why had she let it happen? She could have fought Malfoy off; she remembered the incident from three years ago when she had socked him in the nose for calling her a 'filthy little Mudblood'. Why hadn't she done it just then? The light of her wand was dying away as her resolve to keep the beam burning slipped away. Her body ached all over, but her mind felt numb. She didn't understand what Malfoy and his friends had done to her. How could one human being have done that to another?

Safe in the knowledge that Malfoy and his buddies were far away, probably laughing about the incident in the Slytherin common room, or reliving it wrapped in their fetid sheets, Hermione finally allowed herself to cry.