We Both Go Down Together

I found you, a tattooed tramp

A dirty daughter from the labor camp

I laid you down in the grass of a clearing

You wept, but you're soul was willing

Insanity is what it was. The life of a guard was not simple, or easy, or anything else meaning "not hard to do". It was quite the opposite of easy, as it was rather demanding and involved a lot of effort. Draco had only been there for two days, two fucking days, and he was already sore and tired and worn down. He had yet to have a somewhat enjoyable day and had begun to curse his father into oblivion every chance he got. Draco had already had to separate seventeen men from their own separate brawls, escort three wounded to their shanties and kick one muggle so hard that he cried. Well, that last one he did on his own accord, most likely out of anger at his father, but he really didn't have to kick the elderly man that hard. Draco was just a frustrated young man, and hey, if there was an innocent person to take his anger out on, he would jump at the chance.

So it came to be, on the third day of his guard shift, that Draco had to actually save someone, instead of beating them or watching them beat each other. Draco had been swaggering proudly down the street, gazing observantly at the muggles and mudbloods that shrunk back under his glare, some of them retreating back to their shacks. He watched as dry brown dirt was kicked up by the uniform boots he had been given on his first day at the camp. Draco was so enthralled with the spirals and billowing clouds of soil that he kicked up, that he almost missed the shrill screams of a girl coming from ahead.

"Get off me," Draco heard a female voice shriek out, sounding all too familiar, but unknown at the same time.

"Now how's a come a purty little broad such as you'self is out all on 'er lonesome," a males voice tauntingly said. Dragging his gaze up from the ground Draco looked down the road that was situated between two rows of shacks. Up ahead he could make out the curled form, that appeared female, in the middle of the lane and the towering form of a man standing above her menacingly. Oh Merlin, Draco thought to himself. His first case of a rape. He'd heard, from the other guards, that in the past couple of weeks the amount of rape crimes had sky-rocketed since the beginning of the camp. Personally, Draco believed this to be the fault of the Dark Lord himself, when he decided that females would reside on one side of the camp and males on the other.

Draco sighed deeply, and jogged towards the "scene" of the crime, fulfilling his duty as a camp guard.

"Back off, mate, or I'll have to use force," Draco said sternly, drawing his wand from the pocket of his charcoal uniform pants.

"Didna mean no harm, guard sir. Just talkin' to this purty lady here. So I suggest you be the one to back off. It ain't none of you're business who I converse with and who I don't." The skinny, scraggly man bared his teeth at Draco and had most definitely made the wrong choice. Closing the distance between the man and himself, Draco jumped towards the man, shoving his wand in the sunken-in area of the man's throat.

"I am a guard. You are a muggle. I do not ever want to hear you talk to your superiors like that again. Now, I want you to go back to your side of the development, go into your house and don't come out for a day or two. If I see you again on my side of this place, I'll curse you so fast and so hard you'll wish you were dead." Now, whoever said that Draco was a wuss, or was a weakling, was sorely mistaken. Of course, Draco could be overtaken quickly by any of the other guards, but mentally, he was quick-witted and very severe. The dirty man scrambled away like a frightened puppy and Draco turned his attention to the woman sprawled out on the ground.

"Are you okay," Draco asked observing the beaten young lady in front of him. She looked to be about his age, had matted chocolate colored hair, which was dirty but still full of curls. The girl was wearing an ivory scrap of fabric tied around her torso in a makeshift top and a pair of cut-off denims. She had to be freezing, as it was nearing late October and Draco himself wasn't even warm in his wool guard uniform. Draco looked at the girl's chattering teeth and blue tinted lips that confirmed his suspicions; the girl was frozen and angry. A dark purple and yellow bruise was folded over the girl's shoulder in the shape of a hand-print, and tears welled up in her amber eyes. Amber. Damn it all to hell, it was Granger.

"So, once again I'm at your feet, Malfoy," Hermione whispered hoarsely, forcing a small smile out.

"Merlin, Granger. Are you okay," Draco said, shocked that Granger had the strength to turn her rape, and her almost-rape, into a joke.

"Perfectly fine, Ferret. I'm wonderful. It's not everyday that I get pushed to the ground by a drunken stranger and raped. Well, almost, in this case. And I guess that your father wasn't exactly drunk when he fucked me," Hermione bit back sarcastically. Draco's father had taken her virginity, her most precious thing, in the most awful way possible and Hermione wasn't about to let Draco off the hook, even if he had looked concerned when he found her lying on his library floor. Hermione had been hurt more than she ever had been before that night, and after that, she had found herself weakened and easily overcome. During the past couple of days, she had slept with more lonely men than she could count, and it was solely because she didn't want to fight back.

After Hermione had been raped, she didn't fight men anymore. Lucius had beat her senseless when she defended herself, so she just stopped. When Hermione saw Draco leaning down over her, she felt a spark of that old school rivalry light within herself. That son of a bitch. He had treated her like shit all through-out school and he just had to be the one to save her.

"Come on, Granger," I'll take you back to your house," Draco said, reaching a sun tanned hand out to pull her up.

"House? Hah! If that's what you can call the tin can that I live in," Hermione said icily, her tone of voice matching her body temperature.

"Stop being difficult. Now get up and I'll take you back." Draco took control of the situation and pulled Hermione up off the ground, walking ahead of her as if leading the way for a new citizen of the camp.

"You know, Malfoy, I don't live the greatest life. You may not want to see the place I live in. It's like a living hell," Hermione said challengingly, looking at Draco as if he couldn't handle anything.

"Granger, it's not as if it's any different than what I've seen in the past couple of days. I've separated more bloody bastards than I care to think about. Nothing in your house could surprise me." Draco smirked to himself, wondering who the hell Granger thought she was. Of course, the culture shock Draco had experienced upon first arriving at the camp had been huge, but he had gotten over the filth and disease quickly. Hermione stopped in her tracks, facing Draco, pushing a strand of greasy hair out of her face and placing her hand on her hips.

"Fine then. If you think you can take it, you can come in and sit for a few moments. I know you've been working all day, and as much as I despise the idea of you sitting in our only chair, I do owe you for saving me." Hermione turned on the heel of her bare feet and marched into the tin hovel that had appeared on Draco's right. Draco, being the cocky prick that he was, followed Hermione into the hovel, not expecting the sights that awaited him. As soon as Draco walked in, he was met by the sight of two, or maybe even three other couples in various stages of sexual intercourse. Some were going all the way, grinding into one another and moaning through their orgasms. Others were simply kissing feverishly while groping each other. It was sickening.

"Told you that you haven't seen anything like it. You didn't expect Gryffindor prude Hermione Granger to be living in a whorehouse did you?" As much as Hermione smirked smugly and stared holes into Draco, she couldn't fool him. She hated living in this house, with this band of tramps. As if reading Draco's shocked look, Hermione said matter-of-factly, "I'm one of them Draco. I'm just like them."

"B-but...," Draco muttered. No way was Hermione some sort of cheap hooker. This wasn't possible. Granger wouldn't stoop so low, not even if hell froze over. Never.

"Sorry, Granger, but I think I've overstayed my welcome," Draco mumbled as he bolted from the shack. What he had just seen wasn't even a turn-on, it was just nasty. This place was hell. And as ruthless as Draco had been, he didn't deserve to be in hell.