Chapter Text
Hermione
Tonight, I was dressed in red.
His favorite.
My face and figure were transformed in the usual ritual. The only thing that remained mine on these nights was my eyes.
He had to be back tonight. That was the only plausible explanation. I was wearing red again.
And I only wore red for one man.
I was taken upstairs and put in the center cage. He would have whips, ropes, straps, paddles, and any other kind of device that would allow him to degrade and punish me for a wrong I never committed.
He loved to watch me bleed.
Two years.
It had been two long years since I last wore red.
Rumor was he’d been imprisoned. Trafficking, perhaps. Maybe killing. In Voldemort’s world, anything was possible.
I’d stopped believing in rescue years ago.
Everyone I knew and loved was dead.
And soon, I would be, too.
And for the first time, I was ready to accept that fate. I’d been fighting for years. I attempted to escape ninety-seven times. And each time, my leash got shorter, and I got sloppier.
I was done running, done trying to escape the hellish fate that was so keen on claiming me.
I felt like smiling for the first time in nearly a decade as I entered the cage. I would finally see them again. My friends. My family. My entire life was set to end tonight, and I felt crushing relief over it.
I smelled him before I saw him. The same tobacco and leather that made my nausea peak and my dread spike.
Here he was.
My heart thundered in my chest. His wand would be taken outside the cage. The cage would be magically sealed for thirty minutes while he did whatever he wanted to me. Most men paid by the hour, but he never needed the full time.
I feigned the same lust-addled dizziness I had grown accustomed to over the years. I pretended to zone out, faintly smile, and even stumble on my feet a bit. I maintained the guise of weakness perfectly. I knew as soon as I saw the color red, I would spit out the potion they gave me.
I’d been dreaming of this man’s blood on my hands. I’d been imagining the sounds of his strained wheezes as he died.
“Miss me, pet?” he crooned in my ear.
So much.
The thought of never seeing him again, of never exacting my revenge? It made me sick with need. His presence tonight was a gift.
He reached over my shoulder for the metal chains, and I wanted to cackle with relief.
So predictable.
So obvious.
He always left just enough space between my wrists that he could twist and turn me without meeting too much resistance.
The jeers of the onlookers fueled me.
I would have an audience.
He closed the second cuff around my wrist and let his dirty hands roam down my semi-naked body. He groaned and moved his head closer to bite down on my nipple covered by a sheer red lace.
This was my moment.
I arched back, pretending to give him access, but I wanted a clear view of his neck as he descended.
And I got it.
In a flash, I exploded into action, wrapping my wrists around his neck, allowing the slack space of the chain to choke him. And then I pulled. His body panicked and flailed as he fought for precious oxygen, but I held on. Vengeance was my strength and weapon.
We crashed to the ground, but he took the brunt of the fall as I landed on top of him. I sat astride his chest while I forced my wrists to maintain their hold. He scratched and clawed at me to no avail. His eyes were wild with fear and panic.
“I’ll see you in hell,” I promised him.
And I laughed.
I laughed as I watched his face turn from a beautiful red to a deeper purple. I threw my head down against the front of his face and marveled at the sound of his splintering nose. His bones were crushed beneath me. I basked in the glory of his blood running down my face.
I threw my head against his again, completely numb to my own pain.
He clawed at my hands in a desperate effort to get air. But his earlier alcohol consumption had slowed and weakened him. He was too drunk to fight back with any skill.
When the cage finally burst open, my body was thrown across the cage. But I didn’t stop laughing.
He was as still as a newly made corpse.
And soon, I would be too.
Both of us together.
Dressed in red.
Draco
“She’s here, keep searching,” I said, turning over woman after woman from the pile in the small cell.
I just saw her three nights ago.
He couldn’t have moved her.
He hadn’t recognized me.
I pried open the eyes of those tangled together on the floor. The others would come back for them. But tonight, I only had the resources to move one. So, where the fuck was she?
“Here,” my mother’s hushed tone beckoned down in a different group of cells.
I jogged forward, feeling my heart stop in my chest as brown curls came into view.
Fuck, fuck.
My mother turned her face and opened her eyes, flashing her wand near them.
Blue.
I deflated.
I shook my head and looked around. There were hundreds of girls here.
“Son.”
My father’s voice was tight. My head snapped up as he stood before a solitary cell down at the end of the long row. The girl was alone. Her hair was so matted with blood and dirt that you couldn’t tell the color or texture of it.
I unlocked the cell and stepped inside. She was naked and badly injured. Her body was covered in bruises, cuts, and welts. She’d been badly beaten, and recently. My father motioned to her arm, twisted at a broken angle.
Mudblood
I crashed to my knees and delicately peeled the sticky, clumped hair away from her face. It was so swollen that she was unrecognizable. I peeled open one of her swollen eyelids.
Honey and hickory with speckles of vibrant green and a ring of gold.
I held my breath and did the last check.
I ran my thumb along her jawline until I felt the raised groove of scar tissue.
I turned back to my father.
“It’s her.”
He gave me a tight nod and went to find my mother.
I gathered Granger’s broken figure into my arms and didn’t miss the way she weighed next to nothing. She’d always been a slender girl, but this was a different extreme.
I heard the sound of my parents’ diversion. I didn’t have time to heal her here. We had to get out. I hadn’t expected to find her so broken, though. Three days ago, she was fine. She was walking, talking, laughing, even as she swung around the pole for everyone to watch. Her scars may have been hidden, but I knew who she was. I knew those eyes.
“Son,” my father snapped.
If I tried to use a portkey with her or disapparate, she would splinch. And one splinch would likely kill her.
“Don’t you dare die,” I whispered a quick healing spell, praying she would last to the first portkey.
I closed my eyes and used the portkeys we’d made to get to the first stop before our safehouse. I cradled Granger against me as we fell among the soft dirt. Warmth pooled under my right hand by her chest.
She was bleeding rapidly. Her chest had been completely splinched by the move. I cursed up at the sky. I cast three more rapid healing spells, but none of them stopped the bleeding, and I didn’t have any dittany on me.
I cursed again as my desperation peaked and slipped the signet ring off my finger. I pushed it over her pointer finger on her left hand, and let the familiar words wash over me.
“I hereby declare and swear to all the gods and beings, both magical and Muggle, that I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do take Hermione Jean Granger as my own. My soul will be her soul, my body, her body. I tie my life, magic, soul, and heart to her.”
I used my wand to slice my palm open and held it over her bleeding chest.
“My blood and her blood—forever one. I complete this bond with her, agreeing never to be parted by physical, emotional, or mental barriers. I am hers. She is mine. Forever. I solemnly swear this.”
My body rocked forward with the power behind the spell.
What the fuck had I just done?
A weakened gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes opened. I heard the pop of my parents arriving through the portkey. She was staring right at me.
What the fuck had I just done?