Disclaimer: I do not own the characters! They all belong to J.K. Rowling.

Summary: In all appearances, Hermione works for the Ministry collecting and filing away old, dark books, taken from former Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy becomes her current case. The only problem is that Draco Malfoy was an interrogator for the Dark during the War. Hers. Post War, about 12-16 years later. And no, be prepared, not all is as it seems, not even reality.

Warning(s) Slight non-con, sex, language of the foul kind, mind screwing, adultery, mentions of torture, dark!fic, Death Eater Draco

Author/Artist Note(s) This is slightly AU. The War was longer and harsher than the book portrayed. Also, this was a gift for scarletlady on livejournal for the Draco/Hermione 2011 fic exchange!

Betas: alexa_black, winterstorrm, and eucalyptus! Thank you!


-The Broken Doll-

It was always endless paperwork. Always. Hermione consoled herself with the fact that she got to look at some extremely rare books. In fact, they were illegal books, which made them all the more fascinating. Cleaning up after the Dark Lord was hard work indeed. Many of his followers had renounced his name, but still kept tools of the Dark Arts in the secrets of their homes.

Of course, this was not acceptable. Hermione huffed, signing her name at the bottom of yet another parchment saying she had properly filed away the recently confiscated books. Books of deadly purpose had no place in the world to which Harry Potter had brought peace.

Hermione's tiny office was located in what seemed to be the dustiest room possible. Quite frankly, most would say that it was just like a library and that it suited Hermione Weasley quite well….

Hermione straightened and cracked her back, cramped from hours of sitting hunched. "What a long day…" she groaned.

Standing up, she began to gather her things, ready to go home and make dinner for her family, as was the usual. Ron should have been on his way over to pick her up so they could go home together. They both worked at the Ministry and, honestly, at times that was annoying. She saw enough of him at home; she didn't need to see him at work, too. She loved Ron more than life, but sometimes she needed her space. But not to get her wrong, she loved Ron more than life.

And that was enough for the both of them.

Just as she pulled her warm coat on, Ron entered her office and sighed fondly. "Bloody hell Hermione, this is really rank! When are you ever going to accept a better office?"

Smiling softly, Hermione blew a kiss in his direction. "Never. I like it in here."

The Senior Auror rolled his eyes. "Figures you would." He took her arm gently and kissed her on the cheek. "Ready?"

Hermione nodded, trying to balance all of her folders in her arms. They had made it down the elevator, down the hallway, and were almost to the Floos when—

"Mrs. Weasley! Wait!"

Both husband and wife stopped and turned. When Hermione saw who it was she scowled and muttered under her breath to Ron, "We almost made it out of here too."

It was a short, balding man with an awful temper. Erwin Hampsire was a rather nasty man. And no, if asked, he would indeed tell you that Hermione being Harry Potter's best friend did not give her any special favor. Not at all.

"Ahhh….Mrs. Weasley…so good to see that you are still here."

"I was just leaving."

"Good for you, but I have another case file for you."

Hermione mentally frowned. "Can't this possibly wait?"

Ron took the file from the small man's hands and flipped it open. "You can't be serious," he snarled.

The nasty man smiled and nodded slowly. "We have word the man still has a few….unsatisfactory things in his house."

Ron shook his head furiously. "I searched the manor bottom to top, as my father before me had…there is nothing in that devil house anymore."

Sneering, Erwin shook his head. "We have reasons to believe otherwise. You know how these politicians are. You know where he stands and what he stands to gain. Morris Boltoy returned a gibbering fool after a recent visit to the house on political matters."

Ron scoffed. "If he had been attacked at the manor, it would not be so difficult to trace the spell and throw his slimy ass in Azkaban!"

The balding man shook his head. "No trace of magic was found on him. Untraceable. That's why your wife is going there next."

"THE HELL SHE IS!"

Hermione smacked her husband's arm and snatched the file from him, flipping it open. She groaned when she saw the name, feeling her insides crumble, wither and die in dismay.

Draco Malfoy.

It would be him. Fuck.


Well, well, well, look what I've caught here. A Mudblood.


Dinner was unusually quiet at the Weasley house. Hermione picked at her food, ignoring Ron as he ignored his own food and watched her passively. His gaze was suspicious and worried and it annoyed Hermione to no end. Rose and Hugo sat mute, watching their parents worriedly.

Hermione picked up her plate, and cleaned it off. "Goodnight everyone, I have business to attend to."

Ron turned bright red, most likely from his uncontrollable temper, and slammed his hand down on the table. "Bloody hell, you are not going over there tonight!"

It was not a question.

Hermione shook her head and walked to their bedroom. "I have some things I need to read up on, to think about," she muttered.

There was so much to not think about. So much to not remember.

Shutting the door behind her, Hermione opened up her case file and read. The Malfoy Manor was suspected of holding very old books of serious worth, if put into the wrong hands. Books filled with old, obscure curses, instruments of torture – some in which she had experienced herself – and, of course, twisted rituals of power for only the most cruel and sick of wizards.

It was not that the Malfoys would ever really use the books to cause harm, not now anyway; they were followers, not leaders. The problem was that if some new dark wizard arose, the Malfoy family would be more than willing to help out. To lend aid that the Light would prefer not be in such hands.

She would have to be cautious with this case. Draco Malfoy was not a man to screw with, and clearly the politician Morris had clearly discovered it the hard way. Hermione knew this wasn't a matter of brow-beating Malfoy into letting her see his library, oh no. He would let her see it, that much she was sure. She had seen it before. Rather nice library in fact, but it would not help her get the things he was suspected of having.

No. Malfoy was a snake and he hid things better than an expert poker player. The most likely case was that his father had taught him where all things of darkness were hidden in the house, probably for generations, just like their dungeons.

Perhaps, a little trickery of her own was needed…hmm.

"I don't think you can do this."

Hermione gasped, "Ron, you startled me!"

Her fiery-headed husband had shut the door behind him and was now sitting on the bed beside her, his face pinched with worry. Shaking his head, he looked out the window. "How are you handling this? How can you think of walking into that place again?"

"That's a good question," Hermione stated, "how does one go about visiting their former torturer?"

"Hermione! This is serious! I want you to turn this down."

"You know I won't do that, you silly fool."

Ron struggled with Hermione for a few moments, wrestling the case file from her hands. "Give it here!"

"Ron, stop! STOP!"

Brown eyes flashing furiously, Hermione beat him over the head once with the folder and set it on the floor. "There, happy?"

Ron glowered at it. "No, but it will do."

He rolled over and flipped off the lights, sending them both into darkness. "Are the kids in bed?" Hermione asked.

She felt, rather than saw, her husband nod. She also knew that he was out and snoring within moments, even though her mind was plagued with blood and screaming and everything she never wanted to face again.

But she was a Gryffindor. It was what she did.


They had dueled first, but Malfoy had quickly realized that dueling the smartest witch was not wise. He dove at her bodily, taking her down to the floor. They scuffled viciously, their mutual hatred fuelling them both.

This was until Malfoy got the upper hand, grabbing Hermione and Apparating with her, Hermione screaming and kicking the whole way. Her last vision of freedom was Ron, his mouth open in a yell, his wand raised in anguish.

The last thing Hermione remembered was being dragged by her long hair to the nearest cell, men laughing in amusement.


Malfoy Manor looked gray and miserable no matter what the weather happened to be. Hermione Apparated in front of the gates, seeing as she could not Apparate on the grounds. It was sunny out, but none of the beautiful warmth seemed to touch the Malfoy land. Sighing, Hermione raised her wand and cast the spell that asked land owner's permission onto the grounds. She waited, and waited. And waited some more.

She was shaking.

"Honestly, I sent an owl ahead, he should have been prepared for this," Hermione muttered irritably.

Suddenly there was a crack, and a tall blonde woman appeared beside Hermione. There, dressed in high fashion, perfect hair and makeup, stood Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley, to what honor do I owe your presence?"

Hermione mentally scoffed; the woman sounded like she had a stick up her arse. However, Hermione couldn't blame her too much; Astoria was indeed married to a Malfoy. "I am here on Ministry business, Lady Malfoy. May I be allowed in?"

Ah, formalities. It was so awkward to use them, especially around the people to whom she would rather say 'piss off'. Hermione had gotten herself into trouble way more than she liked to admit when it came to treating certain people with respect.

Astoria raised her eyebrows archly, her eyes colder than they had been before. "Ministry business? Was my husband aware you would be visiting this morning?"

Hermione began to feel a sinking feeling in her stomach. Did Malfoy not get the owl? Or was he just trying to make his wife his guard dog? "I sent him an owl last night. He should have been well aware that I would be showing up at your gates at this time."

Amusement began to glitter in Astoria's blue eyes. "I see. Well aware indeed."

Hermione had never liked Astoria, and probably never would. The woman irritated her to no end, especially with her word games. Hermione preferred to cut to the chase. "What is so funny, Astoria?"

Astoria sneered. "If my husband was as 'well aware' that you, Hermione, would be showing up at our gates, perhaps that is why he left the Manor this morning."

"The nerve of that ridiculous ferret!" Hermione retorted. "Where did he go? Or are you not privy to that knowledge, being a simpleminded house-witch?"

Astoria turned an unsightly shade of red. "I believe he went Diagon Alley. Maybe a bookworm like yourself could find him there? He's one out of hundred, just like the books you search out."

Hermione was sick and tired of dealing with Astoria. She could make more cracks at her to Lord Malfoy when Astoria wasn't around to defend herself, much like he did to her when Ron wasn't around to defend himself. Ministry functions never seemed to end well with Hermione Weasley and Draco Malfoy around.

"You know what, Astoria? It's been lovely; it's always a pleasure to see your pale face. I'm going to hunt your godforsaken husband down like an animal and drag his sorry arse back here because he is too cowardly to stick around and face me."

The blonde woman opened her mouth as if to say something back, but Hermione's fiery gaze shut her up immediately. Astoria rarely won the verbal battles at Ministry functions when she and Hermione got into it. Draco preferred to sit back and watch, as if it amused him to watch the cat fights.

"Diagon Alley!" Hermione snarled, and off she went. Hermione Disapparated with a loud 'pop'.


"The day you open that mouth to give me useful information will be the day I see pigs fly. You are one stubborn Mudblood. Maybe some sharing will loosen your tongue."

Hermione glared at him defiantly through the grime. If Malfoy had something to share, it was most likely something he wanted to complain about. "Sure, Malfoy. Tell me what Mommy doesn't want to hear."

He sneered in her direction. "I have two years of freedom left. Then they are saddling me with some bitch. Maybe if she is a fighter like you she will be interesting. But I doubt it. Lucky me."

He looked at her accusingly. Hermione searched her mind for a response, maybe, just maybe he would reward her with water if she pleased him. "What is her name?"

Unhappiness shone bright in his clear eyes. "Astoria."

Hermione didn't have the heart to pity him, the lonely, misunderstood, spoiled, Death Eater brat. Not anymore.


It was harder than she thought to find a man who absolutely did not want to be found. Her colleague was usually easy to spot at the Ministry. Always dressed in some flashy, expensive robes, some stylish haircut, shoes, whatever, he had it all. Being more politically-minded, their paths rarely had reason to cross, but he was still there and that annoyed her to no end. Ministry dinners and family functions were always awkward when they were both present.

Harry and Ginny were always a pleasure to see together at the Ministry functions, but it was hard to talk to them because everyone wanted to talk to them. Draco and his wife generally stayed away from Harry simply because…well, Draco had been on the other side. To Harry, Draco was the one that got away scot free and really did not deserve it.

Not after what he did.

Hermione didn't like to think of the War. Sometimes, thinking of Draco as less than human helped her get through the days. It was the only way really, because otherwise just hearing his name would make her cringe.

It took her more than two hours to find the former dark wizard, but when she did, it was in the most unlikely of places. Giving up, Hermione walked to the old library, tired, frustrated, and bored. She had wanted to find some down time and relax, but fate was just not on her side.

Filing through the shelves of history books, Hermione searched here and there for something of interest. When she found one she liked, she pulled the book down from the shelf, only to scream and drop the book when she was confronted by Draco Malfoy's face where the book had been. "Malfoy!"

He smirked and walked around the bookshelf to enter her isle. "'The Making of Dark Wizards'. Hm. Great choice, Granger. Thinking of becoming the next Dark Lord?"

"You impertinent little—" Hermione started to bend down to pick up the book.

But Draco beat her to it and crouched down to get the book, looking up at her with a slightly malicious grin. "Ah, ah, ah Granger. Play nice with the other kids."

Hermione snatched the book from his hand, rolling her eyes. "Oh please, get off the ground; you look ridiculous. And in case you can't remember, I'm a Weasley!"

So stand up he did, towering over her small frame, smirking at her last comment. "Alright then," Hermione said while craning her neck back to look at him, "why the hell were you not at your house this morning? I specifically told you to stay put with your sorry arse."

"Business, Granger, always to business," he drawled.

Hermione mentally punched him as he continually ignored her new surname.

"Don't make me arrest you, Malfoy!"

"As if you could. Fine, come with me."

He grabbed her arm roughly and manhandled her to the nearest Floo. "The Manor," Draco said.

The last words Hermione said were, "This is a kidnapping!"

She was still angrily muttering when they appeared in what seemed to be Malfoy's study; grand, green, and completely overdone. There was even a snake fireplace burning on one side of the room. Hermione had to admit that it was sort of toasty, but she wasn't going to tell Malfoy.

She sighed in relief as the tall man let go of her arm and flopped down into a plush, green chair. He lay there looking like a king, staring at her with purpose. "Fine, I'll sit down, but only for a bit and then back to business!" Hermione said.

She sat down in the other green chair, sinking into it. Rather comfortable indeed, she thought. She opened her mouth to start complaining to her host once more about sending her on a wild goose chase, but there was a crack and a house elf appeared. Hermione was further incensed.

"How dare you enslave this poor elf!"

Draco sneered in her direction. "Stop assuming things, Granger. I pay her."

Hermione glared. "How much?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Enough. Now drink some tea, you infernal woman. Maybe it will calm you down."

"No tea in this world could calm me down," Hermione fired back, taking the tea from the house elf's tiny hands.

He had given her tea, once, when she had been a prisoner of the Dark Lord. Yet she drank it to show him she didn't have any fear.

Draco simply smiled, watching her drink the tea. Hermione thought it tasted a little bitter, but she put it down when she had drank what she wanted, which wasn't too much. Amazingly, she felt calm.

Almost as if he saw her weakness, Draco engaged her in talk of a book he knew she had read.

He talked to her about the history book until it was eight at night.

He walked her to the Floo when she stood up and said she needed to put her children to bed, and home she went.

She didn't even realize that she hadn't searched his house until she was safe in her own bed.

"Damn that ferret," she muttered angrily.

"Agreed," Ron muttered from beside her, adding tiredly. "Now shut up and go to sleep."


Draco seemed to be expecting Hermione Weasley the next morning at the crack of dawn. After all, he had evaded her once. She assumed he probably planned on doing so again. He had indeed tried his best, invoking his greatest weapon: his awful wife.

Astoria smiled coldly in greeting, and looked at Hermione's clothes. "You don't mean to tell me you came here in those."

That got Hermione riled and Draco just sat back to watch the two women go at it. Afterwards, Hermione slumped down in the nearest chair and asked for some damn tea. Draco obliged her with a smile.

Hermione drank all of it, her throat completely parched.

"Did you want to see my library now?" Draco asked strategically.

"Yes, I do," Hermione said, standing up.

She placed the tea down on the nearest table, but as she did, she felt a wave of dizziness. She stopped moving and clutched her head. "Is something wrong?" Draco asked.

"You know, maybe I will come look at your library tomorrow, I'm not feeling so good."

Draco nodded understandingly. "I know, my wife is a bitch."

He brought his hand to Hermione's back and gently helped her to the fireplace. "Do you need any help getting back? I can send an elf with you to make sure you get back alright."

"That would be nice," Hermione said faintly.

She didn't even remember getting home.


"I want you to think long and hard on this question. Where is Harry Potter?"

"I don't know."

"I told you to fucking think, not tell me the same thing you've been telling me!"

A loud crack resounded through the air. A red mark grew on Hermione's face. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

Draco was young and inexperienced, but getting the information he wanted was something he was good at. However, young men are prone to the illness of being overeager and in a rush, and in his rush he became angry.

"I'll beat it out of you if I have to," he snarled.

Hermione looked at him square with her beautiful amber eyes. "Go ahead, I'll tell you nothing."

He slapped her again and again, her blood staining his hand. He only stopped because he grew frustrated because he didn't like to see her face damaged.

"I'll find a way. I'll get into that head of yours," he promised.

Hermione only laughed, her own blood staining her teeth.


Hermione woke up sweating. "Bad dream again?" Ron asked sleepily.

She was breathing heavily, her hand on her chest. "Yeah, sure. Go back to sleep."

Ron may have fallen asleep once more, but Hermione Weasley did not.

The next morning, Hermione did not feel well enough to go to Malfoy Manor. Memories, for that was surely what they must be, plagued her mind and sickened her further. His eyes on her face, almost reverently, had burned like cold blue flame. His hand, sometimes harsh, sometimes caressing down her body.

She didn't want to think of that. Still, her body felt aflame and it disgusted her.

She Apparated to the Manor that night, right when the Malfoys were starting dinner. A house elf announced her presence before leading her to their dinner table. Hermione soon stood before Draco's whole family. He had a son about the same age as her children, and his wife, who sat glaring at her from the other side of the table.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Astoria drawled. "It appears we don't have a spot set for you unfortunately."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco interrupted her harshly. "Don't."

Then, without looking at his wife and son, he simply uttered the words, "You can take my wife's place."

Hermione felt like she had hit a brick wall. "What?" she stammered out.

His words seemed to hold a deeper meaning. He looked at her sternly. "You heard me, Astoria; take Scorpius and leave."

Astoria turned bright red, completely humiliated and furious. But she did as she was told and left with her son.

"That was cruel of you," Hermione stated, "but I hate that woman."

Draco's smile was empty, "As do I."

She ate dinner with Draco Malfoy, and drank tea and ate cookies after dinner. They conversed about political things, Hermione trying to keep her wits about her. Draco's eyes held interest, as they had in the past.

Hermione almost didn't care.

When he escorted her to the Floo again, she realized what she had almost forgotten once more. "I need to see your library."

His pale hand ghosted over her hair. "You look tired, Granger. Come back tomorrow. I'll show you then."

She believed him.


I'll show you what you really want, Granger. I'll open your little mind.


When she got home late that night, Ron asked what she had been doing so late.

Her head ached, and she assumed it was that damn tea again. "I really don't remember, Ron. I'm tired, I'm forgetting things. Can I just sleep?"

Ron looked at her oddly, suspicions running through his mind. "I don't like you at that house Hermione. It does things to you. You were his prisoner for two years!"

"I know Ron! I haven't forgotten," Hermione cried out.

The next night she was there again, ready to look at the library. It was set in her mind now. She appeared at his door and he graciously let her enter, leading her straight to his oh so hidden library.

When they entered, Hermione's mouth opened in awe. "So many old books…"

Draco just smiled.

As usual, an elf appeared with a small cup of tea, handing it to Hermione. She looked at it suspiciously, thinking it was the cause of all her migraines. She looked at Draco, but he seemed calm and unconcerned.

She sipped the tea slowly, feeling calm. His gaze was on her, watching her lips. "How's the tea?"

Hermione thought about it for a moment, tasting it. It seemed familiar. "It tastes rather bitter. Most tea does, I suppose."

He nodded slowly, turning a page in a book he had selected idly. "Well, here you are Granger, my library. Isn't it your job to check it out?"

Nodding, Hermione stood up with her cup of tea and began to walk around the shelves slowly, leaving her host to his own devices. She disliked him being out of her sight for so long; it was disturbing, after all. During the war, people had been different, twisted. He had been a Death Eater, as well as her interrogator. At least, that is what she remembered. It was fuzzy now, nearly twelve years later.

One little finger, two little finger, three. Which one will it be, Granger?

Hermione cringed mentally and shook her head to clear the images out.

"Headache?"

Hermione startled, spinning around quickly, coming face to face with Malfoy. "When did you move?"

Unconcerned, Malfoy shrugged. "I moved when I felt like it. Is that a problem?"

He took a step closer to Hermione, his scent filling her nose. She took a step backward, and continued when he moved after her more, like a predator. "What are you doing?" She stammered nervously.

"Following you," he said huskily.

"There is no need," Hermione replied, feeling nervous once more.

She turned away from him quickly, attempting to ignore him. She needed to look for the book. She needed to find a book, but she really didn't know what it looked like. She ran her hands over the shelves, ignoring the dark presence behind her.

The room was slightly blurry, as if she had one too many alcoholic beverages. She couldn't really figure out why, but it added to her worry. She rarely ever felt dizzy like this, out of control.

Suddenly, her hand struck a book that caught her attention. She began to pull it out when Malfoy raced forward and grabbed her hand roughly, slamming it against the shelf. Within moments his face was close to hers. "Don't," he murmured.

"Let. Go. Of. Me."

His eyes were gas flame blue. "I don't want to."

His eyes darted to hers; making her feel uncomfortable but she could barely feel anything aside from the dizziness. It was like being drugged, nothing made sense. He moved fast, his lips on her face and neck. "I am a married woman!" Hermione cried out.

After biting the place between her shoulder and neck, Malfoy muttered, "and I don't care."

Hermione was disgusted; she loved Ron and didn't want anyone but him, but Malfoy was familiar. He was what she had been used to for two years. He was the one that had saved her from a worse fate.

Whatever was wrong with her, it calmed her body immensely. The tea was weakening her resolve.

"Stop," she whispered weakly.

It was as if she had no strength in her body. Her limbs were getting weaker. Something else, beyond this situation, was wrong. She gasped out when Malfoy's mouth began to suck harder on her throat.

"No."

In a blur he had her against the bookcase hard. Her clothes, torn, and her willpower completely gone. She tried to scratch and bite, but it only served to spur him on more. Eventually, he just pulled her to the floor, his shirt unbuttoned. He grabbed both of her hands and pinned them above her head, taking complete control.

Hermione gasped as his erection came into contact with her core through her thin panties. He hadn't even taken his trousers off yet but she could still feel it, hard, hot, and pulsing. "I don't want this," she said against his mouth.

"But I want you," he said back.

He fondled her breasts, making her moan loudly. She couldn't help it; she was overloaded with the feeling of her always sensitive nipples being touched. His mouth was attached to her neck once more, his hands busy ripping her underwear off. Hermione began to protest once more but his fingers were slipping into her wetness and then all thought escaped her.

"You want me too, I can feel it down here," he said, moaning into her ear.

There was the sound of a fly being undone and then Hermione knew it was over, there was no going back now. Malfoy's mouth was on her breasts, switching back and forth between the two nipples as he positioned his cock at her entrance. He used his hand to rub himself against her, getting himself slick with her juices.

Without warning he thrust into her. Hermione's eyes opened wide in shock, her mouth open in a slight oh. Malfoy's blue eyes watched hers, lust filling them at the sight of her. "You feel so good," he groaned, thrusting into her slowly.

Hermione's moans were high and light compared to his deep, male ones. She was ashamed she was enjoying it. She couldn't compare him to Ron, it wasn't a comparing matter; Draco Malfoy was a different animal all together.

The wet sounds of their coupling sounded out in the air, his sweaty body slapping against hers, faster and faster. "Ah, ah…" Hermione uttered, beginning to unconsciously wrap her legs high up around his waist so that she was almost bent in half, his hard cock filling her deeper.

He groaned louder, thrusting harder and he sank deeper, saying "yes, yes," over and over.

It was a whirl of sin. He flipped her over onto her knees after he came once, riding her hard so that her breasts bounced and swayed with each thrust, then switched once more, her small body on top of his larger one. He closed his eyes when he filled her with his seed again, crying out, "Hermione!"

It became more blurry, Hermione feeling her own pleasure build to climax. She refused to cry out anything, and mentally she tried to think of Ron, even through the fog of her mind. But she could not; as Malfoy tried his best to make sure she could think of no one but him.

"Look at me, know who's fucking you," he grunted.

She blew, tightening around him, throwing her head back and crying out loudly.

Then, it was over. She felt sore, tired, and suddenly sick. The dizziness hadn't faded yet, in fact it became worse. This was not sex between friends, but enemies, and there would be no comforting here.

Soon everything was spinning, spinning, and spinning. Fuzzy and then darkness took over, worse than ever before. Even through the fog, she recalled the book she had been reaching for.

It was lying on the floor, a skull on the front of it. Oddly enough, it made her think of the tea she had been drinking.

"What…what did you do to me?" Hermione gasped.

An unusual, yet familiar sneer formed on Draco's face. Suddenly, he wasn't so friendly anymore. It was almost like a change had come over him. "It's what you were looking for, wasn't it?"

Hermione, still trying to stay awake amidst the fog in her brain, replied, "What are you talking about?"

"The book, Granger. The spell. What you have been trying to con out of me. Well, now you have it. It's so unfortunate that your Occlumency is so strong. I thought for sure this would be the breaking point."

Fear was beginning to grow in Hermione's breast. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

She was well aware of the semen running down her legs. Years ago it would have been her own blood, her core torn and inflamed.

Draco moved from his place by the window and approached her naked body, sprawled across the floor. "You'll see, darling," he whispered against her cheek when he crouched down beside her. He smashed his lips against hers, tasting her. Hermione snarled in anger, trying to bite him, but Draco moved too quickly.

"Nice try, but not good enough. I thought I would take advantage of the moment. I always do."

It almost sounded like regret. Almost.

Hermione was about to question him again but he faded from view and she passed out.


It felt like hours later, but it was only seconds. Her eyes flashed open once more and she found herself in a cell, chained to a steel chair. A Death Eater in full garb and mask sat before her. Confusion and disbelief hit her. Where was she? Why was she here? What on earth was a Death Eater doing here? The War was over…

"So glad to see you have rejoined reality, Granger."

The harsh tone was devastatingly familiar. "Malfoy," Hermione gritted out. "What the devil are you wearing?"

The masked face seemed to tilt to the side in confusion. "What I always wear. I see you aren't recovering well."

Hermione started to speak, but she coughed uncontrollably, as her voice was oddly rough. She tried to clutch at her throat, but the chains holding her only rattled. She cleared her throat the best she could and tried again. "Look Malfoy, I don't know what kind of sick joke this is; all I want is to go back to my family. I'll drop your case, I don't care anymore."

A snicker echoed off the dank walls of what appeared to be a dungeon. The Malfoy dungeon. "Granger, I didn't think you were this slow. Honestly, I thought you would have figured it out by now."

The figure before her leaned forward in his seat, the chair creaking. "The book on Occlumency. You were looking for it, remember? To save Harry Fucking Potter's poor brain from the Dark Lord."

A bead of sweat ran down the back of Hermione's neck. This wasn't right. Something was wrong. She didn't recall looking for any such book, but she seemed to iremember/i its existence in the back of her mind. Why would she be looking for such a book when Harry had already saved the world?

"Still having problems, I see," drawled Malfoy. "Well, I'll help your Mudblood brain out."

Hermione flinched, shock hitting her like a mallet. She hadn't heard that term in years! She had grown up knowing that her children would never be called such things. A loud noise burst through her frantic thoughts, bringing her attention to what was in front of her.

Draco had slammed a book down in front of her. On the floor lay a black book, the title in a different language, but the message was clear: Darkness of the Mind. Hermione raised her head and glared. "What is this?"

Malfoy stepped forward again and opened it to a page somewhere near the end of the old book. Hermione could smell the dust coming off of it. He stopped at a page and left it open for her to read. Hermione gave the masked figure another cold look and leaned forward to read.

In bold medieval writing, the words 'The Breaker' stood out. An Occlumency book, Malfoy had said. This didn't sound good. The more she read, the more horrified she became. The page read thus:

"The Breaker is a spell used upon those of strong mental will. A useful interrogation technique when looking for information known only to one person. The Breaker is a strong Legilimency spell that can break even the strongest wizard's or witch's Occlumency skills. The ingredients are listed below."

Hermione briefly read through the ingredients and felt even more ill. Blood of an innocent? Finger of a thief? Great, this potion sounded dangerous. Some of the herbs made her worry, as well. She knew many of them were not supposed to be used in spells due to the pure danger to the drinker, invoking hallucinations and possibly madness.

"Once all of the ingredients have been stirred in, boiled and stirred five more times, the potion should be ready to be served to the intended. The intended will go into a sleep, dark and unknowing. This enables one to slip easily into their mind in search of what they need. This does not mean that you will see what you need, as the intended may be hiding the information in a harder to reach spot. This spell is to see if one can absolutely not reach the information hidden in the intended's mind, and if other measures must be taken, listed further within this chapter.

The intended will appear to be in their own world, trapped within their mind. They will not know they are not in reality. They will not know what you are doing. The longer they are under the influence, the more reality will bleed into their memories. They will have flashbacks, and perhaps remember where they really are, but it is rare."

Hermione stopped reading. She didn't need to know more. Her mind was groggy enough as it was. "The tea you gave me in your library. You poisoned me?"

Betrayal was like fire in her eyes.

The man before her came forward, moving his chair closer to hers, straddling the back of the seat. He crossed his arms over the back and leaned close to her, so close that she could smell the soap he had used.

"No, that was me removing the spell. I'm surprised you remembered that. There is hope for you after all!"

"Fucking say it to me straight, Malfoy. What. Did. You. Do? Why?"

The figure went still. He seemed to be thinking, but Hermione knew better. Her head began to hurt sharply as a memory hit her. When Malfoy was interrogating her, during the war, sometimes he would go still when she said something. It wasn't that he was thinking, it was that he was a predator, watching his prey's thoughts and movements.

Hermione watched as he pushed the cowl back so that his mask remained. Then he pushed his mask up so that it rested on the top of his head so she could see his face. Hermione recoiled in horror. "What is this?" she shrieked.

Before her sat Draco Malfoy, strangely handsome and probably nineteen. His grey-blue eyes glittered maliciously. He stood up and picked up a mirror from outside of the cell and held it up for her to see. Hermione nearly retched. Her reflection was of her, when she had been eighteen, during the War. Her hair was a mess, destroyed by neglect and filth. Blood was on her cheek, her eyes dark and wide in her face, like black stars.

Malfoy tilted his head to the side once more, and as Hermione's memories began to flood her mind, she realized that it was a habit of his.

"Do you understand yet?" he asked quietly.

"It wasn't real?" Hermione whispered.

Malfoy raised a blonde eyebrow, and she knew he had seen just about everything. Her family, what she wanted after the war, what she dreamed of, what she thought of him.

He stood up and stroked her cheek, like a lover would. Hermione wanted to recoil. "Get back to being used to this, Granger. You are going to be with me for a long, long time."

In painful flashes, she recalled what this was. His clean body against her filthy bruised one. His lips against hers. Her fear of him leaving her, only because she feared everyone else more. The disgust she felt when she realized she didn't recall a world without him.

Now, what hurt the most was the realization that everything she and Ron had shared was not real. They were separated now, and they didn't have children and a happy home. She choked back tears and glared at Malfoy, the source of all her woe and despair.

There was little regret in his face, and he seemed to mentally shrug off her anger at him.

Suddenly, he turned and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

All Hermione Granger heard were his last words, echoing over and over in her mind.

"You're going to be with me for a long, long time."

Draco Malfoy smiled to himself as he heard his prisoner scream in anger. He knew, in the end, she would submit.

They all did.


A Year Later

Time passed.

The War ended, and some Death Eaters escaped the fate of imprisonment. Draco Malfoy never let his prisoner know she was free, but instead kept her in her cell.

People inquired about Hermione Granger, but all Malfoy ever said was that she had died by the Dark Lord's hand.

"No one will ever take you away from me," he whispered into her ear reverently.

Tears streaked down Hermione's doll like face, no words spoken from her silent lips.

"Who do you belong to, my pretty, pretty doll?"

Her heart clenched and stuttered in pain. It had been so long that almost nothing mattered. Her eyes were dark, her flesh a pale white from the lack of sun. He had stopped torturing her months ago.

She supposed that was when she had stopped being useful.

Even though the torture stopped, the unwanted intimacy did not. He crept into her room at night, to escape his new wife; he crept into her small bed and lay with her, his loud moans echoing inside the dungeon.

He no longer bruised and beat her, and thus she never forgot Ron, whom she wished had rescued her so long ago.

"I'm yours…master."

Such words felt like poison.


AN: Hope you enjoyed everyone! Review if you please, this was actually my first Draco/Hermione fanfic. 3