"Don't run," he tells her dull and tight, and she stares at him mutely, shaking. "If you run, they'll only bring you back to me. Because you are mine, you filthy little mudblood whore," he tells her, voice become a vicious snarl. The back of his hand snaps across her already swollen, hurting face and she yelps woundedly and struggles helplessly against him, sobbing. She fights him at first. She can't help it. Writhing under him. Grunting and making sobbing animal sounds as she tries to get away, clawing and thrashing until other, strange hands grab her wrists, and her ankles. They pin her spread-eagle to the floor and she fights and heaves against them, but only succeeds in exhausting herself, and gaining a hard slap across the face that makes her choke. Her already swollen face balloons further, the skin feeling so hot and so tight. When she screams in rage and tries to struggle some more, she is hit again, and again, and she opens her eyes to see Malfoy there, his face cold and his hand sweeping down. It connects with a crack and she flinches and weeps at the pain.