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The Darkness and The Light
Part One

Disclaimer: Characters belong to the great J.K Rowling. The plot is mine and mine alone. There is no profit being made here, we’re just a bunch of fans having fun. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you know.

Archive: Please read previous postings/stories for the answer to this. Please read and review!

Spoilers: Alice Cooper’s song, “Poison” and Evanescence’s “Haunted”. There is no profit being made from the songs, either. As with my other songfic, references to the song(s) may be subtle. Reference(s) to The Sorcerer’s Stone and maybe some Goblet of Fire stuff, too.

Summary: It’s year six at Hogwarts. Draco kidnaps Hermione and holds her hostage in The Room of Requirement. His reasons for this may or may not be what you might think.

Hermione opened her eyes with some difficulty; she couldn’t tell if her eyes were out of focus or if she was surrounded by darkness. She blinked; her head was killing her and she was very aware of something hot and sticky dripping from her temple.
She tried to move her left hand to touch it, but suddenly realized that it was immobile above her head, as was her right. She squirmed and tried to free herself when she saw that she was shackled to the wall.
What the hell…? she wondered.
She blinked again and everything came into focus: she looked upward to see that the ceiling to this room she was in was enchanted to look like a dark, but clear and quite starry night sky.
Music played softly in the distance to her left, she turned her head, expecting to see a victrola, and could not believe what she saw instead…no, it couldn’t be…but, indeed it was, for in the corner sat a cd player.
“Where the hell am I?” Hermione whispered to herself.
“Finally awake, are you?” said a male voice from the shadows on her right. She turned again and narrowed her eyes, trying to see who the voice might belong to. It was too familiar…
“Who’s there?” she demanded
“I’ll come out, but know that if you scream, I will kill you,” there was the sound of feet shuffling as though the stranger was standing whereas he was sitting before. “Do I make myself understood, you filthy little mudblood?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. If Draco was trying to strike fear into her heart, he was doing a pitiful job.
“Understood,” she said.
Draco Malfoy emerged from the shadows, the enchanted moon casting a faint blue light onto his white blonde hair. He wasn’t wearing his robes as he normally did; he was dressed simply in his school uniform: a white dress shirt with the Slytherin emblem where a breast pocket would normally be, untucked from black dress pants, and black dress shoes.
“It’s you,” Hermione said.
“Did I say you could talk?” Malfoy barked, moving closer to her.
Hermione looked back at him, forcing herself not to smile.
“Where are we?” she asked, ignoring him.
He was less than inches away from her now, looking her up and down as though he could kill her night then and there. Instead, he threw his body against hers and kissed her roughly.
“The Room of Requirement,” he whispered.
Hermione chuckled and nodded to the CD player. “What’s with the Muggle gear?”
Draco’s hands had automatically latched themselves to Hermione’s waist and then disappeared inside her shirt. He loved the feel of her bare skin.
“Music, of course. Father would kill me if he knew I had any fascination whatsoever with Muggles,” he kneeled down and uncovered Hermione’s stomach, kissing her. “Or Muggle things…” he looked up at her.
“Is that all I am to you? A thing? What’s this about?” she indicated to the shackles. “And, am I bleeding?”
Draco stood and looked at her, his pale blue eyes that were so cold and heartless, were gleaming with a sick kind of excitement. “A little too rough for you, is it? You’re no fun,” he waved his wand and the shackles came off. Hermione rubbed her wrists, trying to get some circulation back into them. She raised a hand to her temple and brought it in front of her face, fingertips covered in blood.
“What did you do to me?”
Draco was suddenly defensive. “I didn’t do anything! You fell, don’t you remember?”
She sat on the floor and tried to think about the events that occurred before she found herself in the Room of Requirement.
She had been walking to her Potion’s class, and when she had made it just outside the door, she was confronted by Crabbe and Goyle, Draco’s cronies. She tried to walk past them and on into the classroom, but the two of them standing side by side made such a forceful wall that she had ricoched off their chests and backward onto the floor.
She assumed that she had been knocked out by the fall and Crabbe and Goyle brought her to meet Draco.
“I can’t help it if there was a jagged rock loose in the floor,” Draco mumbled as he kneeled down in front of her and wiped the blood away with his handkerchief.
“Couldn’t you have just ASKED me to meet you here?”
Draco smiled deviously. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Hermione smiled back at him and laced her fingers behind his neck, kissing him.
This was wrong, she knew. She had been sneaking around with Draco for a month now. She couldn’t explain how it was she had fallen for him nor could he explain how it was that he had fallen for her, they just knew that suddenly they seemed to enjoy being in eachother’s company.
They knew they had to keep this a secret-what would Draco’s father think? What about his other Slytherin buddies? Not only that-but what if Ron and Harry knew? How would they react? The thought was too much for Hermione to bear.
Draco broke away and waved his wand towards a corner that was behind Hermione. A soft pile of hay appeared and he leaned down towards her, causing her to back down and lie in the hay. He was kissing her neck and running his fingers through her hair, pulling at it roughly, yet lovingly.
“C’mon, Draco,” Hermione giggled. “Here? Are you kidding me?”
He took her hand and placed it along the outside of his pants zipper. It was obvious that he wanted her. “Does it feel like I’m kidding?” he breathed.
Hermione opened her mouth and kissed him deeply, mingling her tongue with his. She went to unbutton his shirt, but he grabbed her wrists and slammed them down on the floor, at either side of her body. He positioned himself on top of her so that he was holding her wrists with his knees.
Hermione let out a yelp of pain but he ignored it as he leaned up, his weight more pronounced. She felt sure that her wrists were going to break under the pressure; or be very badly bruised, to say the least.
“You’re hurting me,” she told him, wincing and gritting her teeth.
“Shut up,” he growled and ripped open her robes along with her school shirt. He was pleased to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra; it was almost as though Hermione had been anticipating this moment. It wasn’t at all peculiar for Crabbe and Goyle to find ways to let her know that Draco was somewhere waiting for her. She never knew when or where he might want to see her. “You’re Gryffindor trash and a mudblood to boot.” He leaned down again and kissed her shoulder, running his hands up both sides of her inner thigh and finding the legs of her panties. Hermione could feel him grip them tightly as though his intent were to just rip them off of her body.
Her breathing quickened, but was quiet. She drew in her stomach. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“I’m going to rape you, mudblood, and you’re going to like it.” He forcefully ripped her panties off of her and began to undo his belt.
This was a sick fantasy of Draco’s that he acted out everytime they were together. Hermione had to admit that it was sexy at first, but it increasingly began to bother her. She and Draco didn’t appear to be anywhere near discussing their feelings for one another; she sometimes wasn’t sure that feelings were even a factor in this whatever-it-was that they had. In her darkest moments, she would find herself wondering if she was being an idiot and just letting Draco actually rape her rather than playing out like he was. She was consenting by letting him take her like he was, she reasoned, so it wasn’t really rape.
But what about how she always felt for days afterward? She was finding that she was sullen and depressed. No matter how she tried to hide it from Ron and Harry, she couldn’t. They noticed this and would ask her to tell them what was wrong, but she would always change the subject.
Draco had positioned himself and was entering her now. She was thankful that his knees were no longer on her wrists, but that pain was not compared to what she was feeling now. She wasn’t at all ready for him and when he had noticed this, she could have sworn that she heard him chuckle in the back of his throat. This was something else that worried Hermione. He never seemed to care too much about her when it came to sex. It was always about him being ready and needing to get off.
“Ow! Dammit, Draco!” she grunted.
“I hurt you just to hear you scream my name,” he breathed.
Draco began moving his hips and Hermione wriggled underneath him, trying to find some sort of rhythm with him and hopefully manage some level of comfort until her juices began flowing. Both were so caught up in their own moments that they didn’t hear the sounds of feet shuffling into the room.
“Ohmygod,” said a familiar voice.
Hermione and Draco looked over to see Ron and Harry standing over them. For a moment, the four of them just stared back at one another, stunned. Hermione quickly came to her senses, pushed Draco off of her and stood up clutching at her robes so as to cover herself as quickly as she could.
She was speechless as she looked at Draco who had also stood and was buckling his pants. “Boys,” he said to Harry and Ron nonchalantly.
“I-I-I think I’m gonna be sick,” Ron stammered and his hand flew to his mouth. He took one last look at Draco and Hermione before bolting from the room. Harry’s armload of books fell to his side with a loud thump! as they hit the floor.
“Harry!” exclaimed Hermione, trying to act natural. “What brings you here?”
Harry wouldn’t look at her, he couldn’t. He was still reeling from what he had seen. For a moment, he was speechless. He knelt down and began to collect his books and this seemed to help him find his voice. “A-arithmacy…Ron and me, we came here to study Arithmacy…,” he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Everywhere else was b-busy. We couldn’t concentrate.”
Hermione nodded and looked at Draco, hoping he would take the hint to leave. He glared back at her and the fire that danced in his eyes when he had the opportunity to egg Harry on was alive and flickering. Harry stood, but still refused to look at Draco or Hermione.
Draco began to circle him, grinning like the cat that had just caught and eaten the mouse. “Whassamatter, Potter? Jealous that I nailed her first?” he sneered.
“Draco!” exclaimed Hermione.
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry growled under his breath.
Draco stopped in front of Harry, mockingly cupped his own ear and leaned in, pretending as though he had not heard him. “Sorry, Potter, what was that?”
“I said, shut up,” Harry repeated, a little louder this time.
“Stop it, Draco!”
Draco looked from Harry to Hermione and then back at Harry. “If you tell anyone what you saw, I’ll deny it ever happened. Be sure your buddy gets the message.” He walked towards the door, Hermione watching him leave. It was as though he could feel her eyes on him because he turned, stuck two fingers on his mouth in a “v” shape, and stuck his tongue through them before he left the room.
“He makes me ill,” Hermione said as she waved her wand. The enchanted night sky disappeared and the CD player had stopped playing music.
“Liar,” Harry said, finally looking at her.
“Excuse me?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.
“Nothing,” he sighed. “I need to go check on Ron.”
He left the room.

Harry had wandered around the castle for about an hour before he found Ron in the boys’ bathroom on the second floor of Gryffindor Tower. Ron was standing at a sink, running cool water and splashing it on his face.
“Are you ok?” Harry asked him as he leaned against a nearby wall.
“Please tell me that wasn’t real,” gasped Ron as he looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. Harry noticed that he was pale. Ron splashed more water on his face, turned off the spigot and gave his reflection one last look before turning to Harry and starting towards him. “I’m asking you to tell me that what we saw wasn’t real, Harry. I figure that if you say it wasn’t real, then it wasn’t,” he grabbed the neck of Harry’s robes, pleading with him with his eyes. “Tell me that we’re in the same nightmare or something…I don’t care, anything…”
Harry knew that if he thought he was more disgusted with the sight of Draco and Hermione than Ron was, he would be wrong. Ron had told Harry in their fourth year that he had a mad crush on Hermione; he just didn’t know how to tell her. Harry could only imagine what Ron must be feeling right now, but he didn’t see or feel any need to treat his friend with kid gloves.
“I can’t do it, Ron. What we saw was real,” he suddenly flashed back to the moment and shook his head, trying to expel the thought. “Disgusting as it was, it was real.”
Ron nodded and let go of Harry’s robes as he slowly sat down on the floor, his head in his hands.
“How could she, Harry?” he shook his head. “Of everyone here, of all the Houses, she had to choose Slytherin. She had to choose Malfoy,” he paused and looked up at Harry. “Do you think she hates us?” he looked down and mindlessly toyed with the hem of his robes, worry in his voice as he muttered: “Do you think she hates me?”
Harry stood on one foot and rested the other against the wall, pondering this for a moment. It was sad that Ron was self-conscious as it was, but listening to him and watching him feel this was almost too much for Harry to handle. Ron was like a brother to him and when he was hurt, Harry was hurt.
“No,” Harry said softly, shaking his head. “I don’t think it has anything to do with us, or me, or you.”
Ron kept his back to Harry. “Then what?” he asked dejectedly.
“I don’t know, Ron. She has no reason to hate either of us, so it can’t be that.”
”Then why else would she fu…” Ron stopped himself and cleared his throat. “fraternize with the enemy?”
Harry shrugged; moonlight drained in through the window and drenched both boys, their shadows casting on an opposite wall. “Maybe it just happened somehow,” he said. “Nothing planned, you know. Just one of those things…”
Ron bowed his head again and began playing with a big red curl that was hanging down between his eyes. “Yeah, just one of those things,” he said softly. He wanted to shake the image of them together from his mind so badly, but couldn’t. He had never felt so low.
“Why don’t we just ask her about it? There must be an explanation,” Harry said.
“This is my fault, isn’t it?” Ron replied after a moment.
“What do you mean?”
“I should have told her how I feel, I shouldn’t be such a wimp and now because I never told her, she’s with that jerk!” he looked skyward and continued to talk in an accusatory tone, like he was blaming the gods for this. “It was a sign, wasn’t it? You know, I happen to be a little sensitive…when you go screwing with my heart like that, it isn’t funny! Couldn’t you have sent something a little more subtle?” he stood and continued to look up. “I know I love her, I know I need to tell her, but for Merlin’s sake, can’t I do it in my own time??
Ron kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling for a couple of minutes and then looked at Harry, frustrated. “I just want there to be a perfect moment, a right time to tell her.”
Harry nodded. “Let’s find her and talk to her about it. Maybe she has an explanation,” he repeated.
Ron simply shook his head. “No, Harry. I can’t look at her. I don’t want to. Let’s just call it a night, ok?”
Harry said nothing. He pushed himself off of the wall, patted Ron on the shoulder and they left for their dormitory, neither one talking to eachother until the next morning.

Hermione was a little surprised to see that she was the very first one to make it to The Great Hall for breakfast; it felt so weird to be all alone in such a big room. She opened her bag that lay beside her and took out her copy of Hogwarts, a History, a book that was near and dear to her heart.
Hermione tried to read but couldn’t for two reasons: one being that she wondered if Harry and Ron would even take notice of the fact that she was alive when they came down for breakfast-she could only guess what they thought about her since lastnight-and two was that her wrists were aching so badly. She held them up in front of her and held back tears. “Badly bruised” wasn’t even close to describing what she was looking at. Another shade or two and they would almost match her ashy, grey school skirt. Just exactly how it was her wrists were not broken, she didn’t know.
“Damn you,” she whispered as a tear silently slid down her cheek. Whether she was scolding herself or Malfoy, she wasn’t sure. She could see it both ways.
Why didn’t she have the courage to just walk away from him? Why did she stay when she knew it was obvious that there would never be anything more than what was going on? Why did she get involved in the first place? All of these questions were constantly running through her mind although she knew the answer already: She was afraid of him. She couldn’t bring herself to think what he might do to her if he even knew that she entertained the idea of leaving. She wanted someone to pay attention to her and when Draco had just dragged her into a stairwell one day, she found herself going with the flow, no matter how she felt, no matter how sick it was.
Ron would never pay attention to her, not like this. She was tired of feeling like she wasn’t being noticed for what she was: a young woman.
A young woman who was interested in things that went beyond what her friends gave her credit for. Yes, she was smart because of all the time that she spent with her nose buried in a book. But, as she had once told Harry; “There are more important things…”
Friendship was important to her, that was a given. She wanted more than friendship where Ron was concerned and wanted so badly to tell someone because keeping all of these wonderful feelings that he made her feel when he was around bottled up was just too much for her to handle. She had to keep it herself, though, because she didn’t feel like she would be understood.
Harry didn’t understand girls at all. That was clear. If he had any idea about them, maybe things would have gone better with Cho and he would still be dating her at this moment. Ginny, she was a girl, but she was a year younger and was appearing to be something of a late bloomer. Sure, she had that crush on Harry for ages and then she was with Michael what’s-his-name, but Hermione didn’t feel as though she really understood what it was to truly love someone. Not only that, but being that Ron was Ginny’s brother, Hermione talking about how much she loved him might not be something she would want to hear.
She laid her wrists flat on the table in front of her and welcomed the coolness that was coming off of it. She turned her head to see a few students from Ravenclaw trickling in for breakfast. She had an eerie feeling as she closed her book that somehow Draco wouldn’t be far behind. Her goal was to be out of there before he showed up, before Harry and Ron did.
Little did she know that that would be an unaccomplished goal; for the next thing she knew, Draco was sauntering towards her.
Hermione wished she could just Apparate from the room and deal with him when she was good and ready. Draco stood behind her as he talked. “Listen…after Care of Magical Creatures, meet me in the woods behind the giant’s hut. I’m going to finish what I started,” he looked about, checking for spectators and saw that the Ravenclaw students were too engrossed in their breakfasts to care what was going on. He clapped his hands down on Hermione’s shoulders and squeezed them roughly. “Breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll make you wish you were never born,” he growled.
Hermione could feel something sitting in the pit of her stomach…disgust, fear…”And if I don’t?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Like I said, you’ll wish you were never born,” he bent down and licked the side of Hermione’s neck and gave it a less than loving nibble. He slowly ran his hands over Hermione’s collarbone and the next thing she knew, they were cupped around her neck as though he intended to strangle her. Or, atleast make her think that he was. She shuddered and closed her eyes. When nothing happened, she opened them to find that Draco had already walked down to the buffet table and was filling his plate.
“I already do,” she said to herself.
She watched as Draco made his way to the Slytherin table and sat down; she took this as her cue to get up and get herself some food. Just then, more students started coming in with Harry in the lead. Their eyes locked briefly as he made straight for the table, towards her. She quickly looked away and grabbed a few pieces of toast before nervously going back to the Gryffindor table.
Hermione had intentionally immersed herself in the act of eating when she heard Harry say her name. She looked up to see him sitting in front of her.
“Harry,” she murmured, glad to see that he was still speaking to her. “What a relief. I thought you would never speak to me again.”
“Yeah, well,” he cleared his throat and continued in a hushed tone. “About lastnight…Hermione, what was that? I mean, are you sneaking around with Malfoy? Or was he hurting you and we were just too dumb to realize it?”
She took a big gulp of her pumpkin juice. “I’ve been sneaking around with him,” she said in the same hushed voice.
Harry gaped at her, leaned backward and then forward again. He didn’t want to believe this was happening; he didn’t understand why and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to try.
“Are you ok, Hermione? Is there something wrong that you aren’t telling?” Harry asked honestly.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m trying really hard to come up with a logical reason for this. I’m just wondering of there isn’t something really wrong with you and you’re going around with Malfoy to try and make it better.”
One thing that Hermione hated about Harry was that sometimes he had this ability to read her like an open book. “Forget it, Harry. I don’t think you would understand,” she stood and collected her bookbag. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go or I’ll be late for Care of Magical Creatures.”


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