written for Round 9 of Dramione Remix Fest.
my chosen couple was Jaime Lannister/Brienne van Tarth.

WARNING: This story is immensely fucked up and contains dark themes such as rape, mutilation, and war crimes.

. . .

Molly Weasley had simply had enough of war.

War was ugly, dirty, and raw. It changed the good and kind people she'd once known into heartless and brutal monsters. It had taken away her husband and two of her children. It had taken everything that had a semblance of good in her life. War was tiring. Seeing children younger than her own looking mentally exhausted was one of the worst things one could see. Children, who should remain pure, forced to fight in such a brutal fashion due to such dark times. It truly sickened her. Fighting Death Eaters on a daily basis had started to take a toll on her soul. She felt empty, dark, and numb. Maybe doing this would take back some of the light she'd once felt in her life.

She set her brown eyes to gaze upon the drunken so-called warriors meant to defend the prison cells. They were fighting which was not an unusual sight these days. They were on the same side, but they still fought each other. Molly was ashamed of what they had become.

"Malfoy won't last the night here." Molly turned her attention away from the fighting men and her gaze fell on a woman. As small as she was, she was a force to be reckoned with. She was a better and stronger warrior than the men guarding the cells, that much was certain. Molly nodded her head in agreement before the woman, Hermione, continued to speak. "The more they drink, the angrier they'll get."

Hermione Granger was the one who captured Malfoy in the first place. She had caught him off guard in the Battle of Gringotts and had instantly Apparated him to Grimmauld Place. Thinking back to her plan, she knew Hermione Granger was the best person for this and Molly trusted her.

The warriors who were supposed to guard Draco Malfoy, their most valuable prisoner, were now duelling over who could kill him. It had started off as a physical brawl and now, they were taking out their wands and threatening to hex each other.

"Just wait until one of them cast the Killing Curse," said Hermione. "Besides, who wants to die defending a Malfoy, anyway?"

Molly chose to ignore the question and proceeded to walk towards Malfoy's cell, Hermione following behind her.

As expected, no one was standing in front of Malfoy's cell. The two guards were now circling each other by the prison door, paying no attention to the two women or the prisoner in the cell. Draco Malfoy was left alone. No one was guarding him and no one was making sure that he would not escape.

Hermione silently cancelled the wards around the cell. She had planted them there herself, of course. She had planted every ward in every prison they had. As talented as she was, wards could always be broken. She knew that Malfoy was not an idiot. There was a reason he was their most valuable prisoner. He was very well linked within the Death Eater circle and she had to make sure there was no chance of him getting out. These wards that she had erected were impenetrable and took a few moments for her to pull them down. Once she'd finished, Hermione made way for Molly to enter the cell first. Molly was thankful for her assistance, but she did not need Hermione to be there in the cell with her as she spoke to Malfoy.

When Hermione attempted to step in after she was inside, Molly blocked her way with her arm and shook her head at the younger woman.

"Make sure no one sees me in here," she whispered.

Hermione's brown eyes flashed dangerously, but she followed the command anyway. It was good to know that her word still meant something to someone.

She eased her way deeper into the dark prison cell, looking around for a flash of white blond hair. There was none. Hair did not glint where there was no light, after all. Only a muddied, ragged, and sullied man sat before her, his entire body magically bound to a pole.

Draco Malfoy had been allowed no pleasantries since Hermione had captured him. An ashen white blond beard covered his face, reminding her of the late Albus Dumbledore himself. His once pure platinum hair was now black at the roots because of being unwashed for a while. His expensive black robes were now torn and tattered. His pale face was only sullied by a few scratches and mud. Despite all of that, Draco Malfoy sat as proudly and smugly as ever. His body was radiating waves of claimed superiority and wealth. Being jailed had not broken him, unfortunately.

He squinted his eyes through the darkness, trying to see who his new visitor was. A smirk spread out on his face when he recognized her.

"Mrs Weasley." He nodded as a mock of respect. He was just another spoiled boy with no manners, Molly decided, just like his father. "You look radiant as always."

His sarcastic comments would not get to her. He would not get to her. She would not give him a taste of her temper.

"Though, as radiant as you look, Mrs Weasley, I don't think I could offer you anything right now," the boy drawled. "I know that your bed must be lonely since losing your husband and that I may look like a fine substitute for him, but I feel like you might be far too old for my tastes."

Molly swiftly took a large rock from the ground when he mentioned the death of her love, Arthur. Every day, she still missed him. He had been killed by a poison-like curse by Malfoy's uncle. Rodolphus Lestrange, a name she muttered every night as she prayed— a name she would like to perish.

"But, I can offer something a little less personal and much more pleasurable for you." Draco Malfoy's smirk widened. "Just please, kindly take off your robes and sit— "

Malfoy grunted as the brunt of the rock Molly was gripping hit his jaw harshly, causing it to bleed out.

Draco sniffed before he spat out blood and spit on her shoes. "Nicely done."

Molly dropped the rock immediately.

"Do you hear them out there?" Molly asked. "They want you dead."

"Just like everybody else in the world." He scoffed, shrugging his shoulders as if his death meant nothing to him.

"Death will come knocking on your prison door if you continue to talk nonsense."

The Malfoy boy frowned at her and then laughed. "You think I'm afraid of dying?"

"You should be," Molly said vindictively. "You're going to end up in the 9th circle of the Inferno if God answers my prayers."

"Prayers?" he repeated as if it was the first time he'd heard the word. "What did your prayers cause us, Mrs Weasley? What did your prayers cause you? Did they do what you wanted and end the war? Did your silly prayers bring back your husband? No. There are both good and bad things in the same world—"

"Only because of men like you!"

He let out an amused laugh at that.

"There are no men like me. There's only me." His voice sounded so arrogant, so sure, and so full of himself that Molly almost punched him for it.

"I did not come here to philosophize with you, Malfoy," she told him. "I'm here with a chance for you."

"And here I thought that chances for me no longer existed."

Ignoring him, her mind drifted to a single question, one that had been brewing inside her for years.

"How did Albus Dumbledore die?" Molly asked him. She had to know. How could a boy kill the most powerful wizard in the world?

He snorted. "I pointed my wand at him and spoke the most unforgivable of the Unforgivables."

Molly knew that if she had her wand right now, she would cut off his head with a simple Severing Charm.

"Why?"

"Because I hoped it would kill him."

"Why?" Molly repeated with gritted teeth.

"Because I was told to."

She shook her head in disgust. "You are the vilest of all men."

"We are the vilest of all men," he corrected, "Wizards and witches and people who are so easily corrupted—"

"Do not ever compare myself to you, Malfoy."

"I wonder what your husband would think of you now," Draco continued, looking her in the eye stubbornly. "You're as evil and corrupt as the rest of us. You and your Order think so good of yourselves to the point that you think you're always right. When we do it, it's wrong, but when you lot do the same, it's the rightest of rights. How hypocritical of you, Mrs Weasley."

"Hermione!" Molly called out. She was sick of the boy talking.

"Yes, yes, and Granger, too." Malfoy nodded, blood dripping down his neck from his jaw. "She's the worst of you all. Mudbloods. They think they have the same rights as us when they know nothing about what we are. Yet they still come into our world like they deserve magic—"

A voice cut him off mid-tirade.

"You called, Mrs Weasley?" Hermione cheerily asked after she stepped into the cell.

"Give me your wand, please." Molly held out her hand.