Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

Fuck, he'd noticed her weakness for the tiny little sticks. Smug prick.

He kept his eyes on hers as he took another drag, and Hermione's stomach twisted when he took a step towards her. She forced herself not to retreat, forced herself to stay rooted in the spot as he closed in. He stopped when their chests were almost pressed together, when she had to tilt her chin upwards to catch his eyes, and then he released the breath he'd been holding, and the smoke hit her like a brick wall.

Her knees almost buckled. The nicotine washed over her and - fuck, it was indescribable. She knew she missed smoking; it was always the one thing that calmed her nerves completely, and having a taste of it teased against her tongue was euphoric. Mouth-watering.

Her eyes glued themselves to his mouth, unable to tear them away as the end of the cigarette ignited when he pulled in another long drag. He pulled it from his mouth, and after he'd released another intoxicating breath that made Hermione's eyelids flutter, he extended his hand to her and offered her the cigarette.

He was teasing her with it. He knew she wasn't going to take it, that she would rather shove a red-hot fire poker down her throat than wrap her lips around the same butt he had, no matter how much she wanted one.

No matter how dry her mouth ran or how much her fingers itched to snatch it from him, she wouldn't take it.

He was being cruel again, taunting her just because he could. Even after all these years, he was still a bully.

Hermione stepped away from him, she needed to, she could feel her resolve weakening the longer she remained in the smoke cloud he'd created around them. She dragged a hand through her hair and started to pace the room, counting backwards from a hundred in her head as she worked to quiet her hammering heart.

"How's the escape plan coming?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"Fuck you," she spat through clenched teeth.

He sat on her perch and leaned back casually against the glass window to watch her. He was toying with her, letting her panic and irritation dance through her blood before he went in for the kill and barged into her mind. He'd realised days ago that he seemed to have more success with accessing her memories if he riled her up first. The doors into her mind were a fraction weaker if he got under her skin before he tried to smash his way through.

Usually, she was able to remain calm. She knew what he was doing, and was able to think it through and stop herself from giving him what he wanted. Not today though. He'd tapped into her hidden weakness for the little cancer sticks, and was using it to his advantage.

"Got any more brilliant ideas of how you're going to kill me yet?" he asked.

"Fuck you."

Malfoy took another long drag. "No? Nothing?" he asked, the exhale fanning another intoxicating wall of nicotine in her direction. She forced herself to keep pacing. "I'm disappointed. I thought your brilliant mind would have found a way to slit my throat by now."

"Fuck. You!"

"Someone's not very friendly today." He took a final drag and threw the butt out the window. He stood and straightened his robes, keeping his mouth closed so smoke billowed out of his nose. "Aren't you Gryffindor's supposed to be nice and brave to a fault? I thought that was why so many of you die on the battlefield? Unable to stop your hero complex from shining through. I can't tell you how many of your red and gold friends I've cut down over the years-"

"Enough!"

"Oh, the lioness has teeth," he teased.

When he approached, Hermione forced herself not to move. She held her breath, and tried to ignore the delicious way the smoke clung to his robes.

"Just wait until I have my magic back," she seethed. "You'll see just how sharp my teeth are when they tear your throat out!"

The corner of his lips twitched as he withdrew his wand. "Believe me, Granger, I can't wait to see you try."

"Come on Mudblood," Malfoy sneered from the doorway, his face twisted into that nasty smirk he always wore. "We don't have all day. I have some of your friends locked away that are just dying to be tortured."

"Oh, would you just FUCK OFF!" Hermione snapped from the other side of the white hallway.

The corridor looked unrecognisable from what it had weeks ago. The once pristine white walls were charred and burnt in places from Malfoy's efforts to force them open. Most of the frames were empty now, the doors ripped from their hinges and leaving nothing but a dark abyss in their place.

Malfoy drummed his fingers against the wooden doorframe, his irritation growing through her defiance. "I won't ask again. Come, or I'll gouge your pretty eyes out and display them on my fireplace."

Hermione squared her shoulders. "You know anything you do to me in here isn't real."

Malfoy sighed and pushed himself away from the door. He walked towards her, shoulders hanging low and predatory, and stopped when Hermione could feel the chill of his body.

She refused to cringe away from him. Her pulse quickened as he studied her for a few seconds. His cold grey eyes were hard as stone as they slid over her frame, dissecting every nervous twitch of her hand and furrow in her brow.

"I know." He brought his hand to her face slowly, gently, as if he were about to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, only to grab a fistful of her hair. He yanked her head back roughly, and a searing pain throbbed against Hermione's skull as he tilted her head up to look at him. "But you do feel it, don't you? The pain?"