TW for this chapter: attempted sexual assault.

The common room was loud, too loud.

Gryffindor had just won the first match of the season with the help of Harry and his unfairly won lucky potion. Red and gold clad students filled the room, dancing on the furniture, spraying butterbeer over the team, and roaring their approval.

Hermione was there, quietly in the background, watching as Harry threw furtive glances over at Ginny. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like Ginny was interested. She kept flipping her red hair over her shoulder and letting her gaze linger for a moment too long before looking away. But Hermione knew better. She’d found Ginny a few days prior in a hidden alcove, tight in Theo’s embrace who whispered to her over and over that he understood the job she had to do.

But she knew it didn’t make it any easier for her.

After the same Weird Sisters song came on for the third time, Hermione decided it was time to meet Draco. It was rare that they had gotten any alone time since returning to the school, and he had convinced her to meet him at the room of requirement since her housemates would be so distracted by the game.

They were also summoned the following evening to meet with the Dark Lord and she assumed it had to do with Karkaroff’s body being found by aurors. It had been almost a month since that night and she hoped this was a good thing, that He was pleased. But this didn’t stop Draco from worrying about his mission and the lack of progress he’d made.

With another look at Ginny, who she could see was making her way up to the girl’s dormitory to avoid Harry making a move, Hermione turned towards the portrait hole and quietly slipped out.

The corridor was silent and cool, which felt nice after the heat and noise of the common room. Wanting to enjoy it a little longer she waited to disillusion herself – always finding that the sensation of disillusionment sometimes inhibited the other ambient sensations around her.

She had just turned the corner towards the seventh floor corridor when the pendant against her skin began to warm, causing her to stop mid step. Then, a voice called out behind her.

“There you are,” Ron slurred slightly. “Thought I saw you sneak off.”

Hermione raised her brows at him.

“You say that like you didn’t just follow me here,” she said in an annoyed voice, cursing herself for not casting her disillusionment.

Ron attempted to swagger towards her and she took an involuntary step back as he closed the distance, one of his hot hands gripping her hip while the other cupped her cheek. He smelled like firewhiskey and whatever he’d had for dinner.

“You say that like you didn’t lead me here,” he answered in a whisper, his pupils blown wide.

Hermione’s heartbeat picked up speed as Ron sloppily crashed his mouth over hers and she tried to stop herself from retching, pushing against his chest to try to free herself from his tight grip. Misunderstanding, he pressed her back against the stone wall. She beat her fists against him, desperate for any space, so she could reach for her wand in the inner pocket of her robes.

“Oh, is this how we’re going to play it?” Ron said with a smirk, leaving sloppy, wet kisses along her jaw and throat. “I didn’t know you liked that sort of thing, Mione.”

He truly didn’t understand that she didn’t want this. Couldn’t stop for a moment to think that he wasn’t entitled to her after so many years of hearing his mother tell him so. So many years of believing her best option would be to marry him so he could provide for her.

Roughly he grasped her wrists in one of his hands, pulling them to the side while his mouth closed wetly on the skin of her neck and shoulder.

“Ron, stop ,” she gasped, tears pricking into her eyes. She started to kick, to flail, something – anything – to create some space between them.

He shushed her, pushing his hips against her stomach. Nausea circled her ribs as she felt him hard against her.

“You’ve been such a fucking tease ,” Ron groaned. “Always playing hard to get when you know it’s always been me.”

“No – no . Stop right now,” she cried, wrenching her head to the side when he tried to press his mouth again to hers. “Let me go. ”

His tongue swiped across her cheek instead and magic crackled over her skin. But rather than be deterred, Ron’s other hand groped down her waist, curling around her skirt and ripping it to the side. The fabric tore and she felt the cool air of the corridor slide over her exposed skin.

Hermione tried to think of any spell she knew that she could cast wandlessly. Panic bled into her muscles. She knew – she knew she was stronger than this. More powerful than Ron would ever be. She just had to get to her wand.

But then his hand was gripping her upper thigh, pushing between her clenched legs. She couldn’t stop the tears that tracked her cheeks.

“ Stop! ” she screamed. “Stop please, please, please.”

Ron’s elbow clipped the side of her jaw as he pushed her wrists tighter together, trying to get a better grip on her.

“You’re ruining this. You’re mine, Hermione. Everyone knows it. So just fucking relax. ”

Suddenly, Ron disappeared.

A loud crash echoed off the opposite wall as her knees gave out, crumpling to the floor. She was shaking, her whole body vibrating as she wondered if she’d somehow pushed him off of herself without a wand.

“You’re wrong, Weasley,” a dark voice rang out in the darkness. “She’s mine. ”

A shadow darkened the light above her and she shrank back from the fingertips that touched her cheek, scrambling to press herself against the wall and cover her exposed skin.

“It’s okay, love,” Draco soothed, grey eyes flashing silver in the light. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hand hovered – without touching – over the bruise already blooming over her jaw for a brief moment before he rose to his full height, turning his rage towards Ron.

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Ron slurred, struggling to get to his own feet. “Mind your own bloody business.”

Draco took a menacing step towards Ron, who stumbled a bit.

“I’m not fucking scared of you, you prat ,” Ron hissed, grabbing the wall for support.

A hollow laugh slid its way from between Draco’s teeth and Hermione watched as he twirled his wand.

“You’re not afraid, Weasley?” Draco began tugging on his left sleeve. “You know… I think I could tell you a thing or two about fear.” He rolled the fabric back once. “I could tell you about the dark and the things that whisper there.” He rolled it back again. “I could tell you about the magic that curls into your heart and darkens your soul.” He rolled it back a final time, exposing his dark mark. “I could tell you about how it feels… to truly be afraid.”

Draco touched the tip of his wand to the brand and Hermione watched as his Death Eater robes billowed around him. Right as the silver mask slid over his face like liquid metal, Ron’s eyes widened in terror.

“But I think I’d rather show you what real fear is,” he finished.

Ron’s whole body began to tremble the way Hermione’s was. She watched as a wet patch bloomed on the front of his trousers and the smell of piss filled the hallway.

“I bloodied up Krum so bad he couldn’t fly for a week after he merely held Hermione too close,” Draco said, his smooth voice dripping with menace. “What do you think I’ll do to you for this?”

Ron gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing with only a small squeaking noise coming out. He’d gone so pale that the freckles across his cheeks seemed darker, his hair brighter.

“What… she’s…” Ron stuttered, his eyes never leaving Draco but his hand twitched in Hermione’s direction. “She’s… not…”

Another hollow chuckle filled the space, amplified by his mask.

“She’s mine , Weasley. She is my intended. She is my soul match. She’s my everything. And I protect what’s mine.”

With a flick of his wand Ron’s head jerked to the side, a deep bruise blossoming immediately over his cheek. Draco knelt down closer to him.

“But do you know what she is, above all else?” he asked in a faux whisper, flicking his wand so a deep gash appeared on his upper brow. “She is more magically powerful than you will ever be and you should be grateful she never got to her wand.”

Another flick and Ron hunched over; the breath knocked out of him. With one final twist of his wand, he knocked Ron out cold.

She couldn’t stop the feeling of satisfaction that came from watching Draco hurt him. Couldn’t stop the tiny voice inside that reminded her of every time Ron had touched her without permission, or given her those disgusting heated gazes, or she’d overheard him speaking with other boys about her as if she was his property.

She had never belonged to him to begin with.

Still, something ached inside of her that didn’t speak of the physical pain she had recently endured. Instead it deepened until a hollow feeling echoed through her chest. She felt… wrong. As if her skin didn’t fit right and was covered in a thin layer of grime.

“Draco…” Hermione finally gasped, finding her voice.

Immediately Draco’s wand lowered and he turned to her with narrowed eyes.

“Enough,” she said. “Please… get me away from him.”

Draco nodded, swirling his wand and producing a large patronus in the shape of a Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon. It was a spell he wasn’t always good at but had perfected over the last few months.

“This message is for Blaise and Theo. Come to the seventh floor corridor beside the room of requirement immediately.”

The patronus vanished in a swirl of light and Draco made his way slowly towards Hermione. With a wave of his wand his mask faded away, exposing the heartbroken expression on his face.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her.

She shook her head.

“I’m not hurt much. Just my wrists and my jaw,” she said softly.

Draco’s hands trembled as he lifted them to her eyesight, moving slower than was usual for him.

“Is… is it all right if I touch you?” he said in a gentle voice.

She nodded, letting herself exhale as his cool fingertips lightly touched the skin of her wrists, then her jaw.

“I’m going to move a little lower, love,” his voice cracked at the end and she could see the rage and despair seeping through his face.

He moved her upper leg, a frown pulling at his lips as his eyes traced over the red marks on her thigh that would undoubtedly bruise, before he whispered a repairing charm on her skirt, the torn piece of fabric sealing itself again.

Then the sound of racing footsteps came around the hallway. Theo and Blaise skittered to a halt a foot away, their eyes wide as they took in Ron’s limp body across the hall and Hermione’s disheveled appearance.

“What the fuck did he do?” Theo roared, his hands pulling into fists.

“I think it’s pretty obvious what he tried to do,” Blaise seethed, rage pulling his features into a sharp point. “You already kill him, or you want us to finish it for you?” he asked Draco.

Draco shook his head, watching as Theo moved towards Ron, aiming a swift kick to one of his thighs.

“We can’t, you know we can’t,” Draco said, anger slithering through the cracks of his voice. “It’d ruin everything if we killed Potter’s precious weasel.”

“I mean we can – mum taught me how to hide bodies a few years ago, after husband number six,” Blaise mused.

“That’s really fucked up, mate,” Theo said before kicking Ron in the shin.

“You can’t…” Hermione said, her voice wavering. “Harry… Harry needs him.”

Blaise nodded; his eyes still alight with fire as Theo kicked Ron again.

“What do you want us to do, then?” Blaise asked as Theo appeared to compose himself and cross to Hermione.

Slowly Theo knelt beside Draco, taking in her still shaking frame. Just as Draco had done, he lifted his hands slowly.

“If you show me where you’re hurt, I’ll heal you. But I won’t touch you anywhere else, I promise,” he said in a gentle tone.

“My wrists and my jaw…” she said softly.

“I’ll start with your wrists, yeah?” Theo asked, waiting for her to nod.

Theo worked quickly over her while Draco looked between them. She was grateful that he didn’t mention the bruises on her thigh.

“Wipe his memory, Blaise. You’re good at that now,” he said. “Then Theo, fix him up and send him on his way.”

“Like hell I will,” Theo muttered as he moved his wand over Hermione’s jaw.

“You have to, Theo,” Hermione whispered. “He can’t know Draco’s taken the mark.”

Theo blinked, seeming to finally register the robes Draco was wearing.

“Fine. I’ll heal him… eventually ,” Theo said ominously as he finished healing her.

“I’m going to pick you up now, love, is that all right with you?” Draco asked, moving towards her slowly.

She nodded, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck as he drew her into his arms and rose to his feet.

“Blaise,” Draco said.

“Yeah, boss?” Blaise replied from where he was inspecting Ron on the ground.

“Wipe the memory, but keep the fear. I’ll enjoy the moment when I – or Hermione – can finally kill him.”