Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Genres: Dark, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Situations, Profanity, Torture, Violence
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometimes, your enemy is the only friend you have. Other times, he is no friend at all. When you have absolutely no one to turn to, can you turn to the one who is theoretically the cause of it? Or will he then try and turn you against everything you believe? Birthday challenge.
Length: 4/10 Chapters. This chapter: 1933 words.
Time went by slowly, so very slowly. She had been here at least a month, she was certain of that. A whole month! Her friends must be going crazy with worry. She needed to find a way out, any way out, before they did something reckless and jeopardized everything.
As usual, a few days must have gone by before Draco returned. In the beginning she had wondered what exactly he was doing when he wasn’t visiting her, but she had decided that she didn’t want to know. He was a Death Eater. Nothing good could come from asking that question.
When he did finally come again, he didn’t bring anything. That was a first. She had refused to reply to why she didn’t like the sweater and he seemed to have interpreted it correctly – that him noticing what she wanted unsettled her. But then again, him not bringing her anything was a thing she wanted in itself and he might have picked up on that. Or, perhaps he was merely trying to punish her for her lack of cooperation.
Well, at least she wasn’t overanalyzing things.
“I trust I find you well,” he said pleasantly when sitting down.
Hermione merely rolled her eyes before narrowing them, trying to figure out where he kept his wand in his robes.
“Really, Granger,” he said. “You could at least try to make some decent conversation.”
“About what?” she asked sarcastically. “About all my interesting exploits since you last were here? You know damn well that absolutely nothing happened because these four walls and you are all I ever see!”
He just gazed at her pensively. “Been reading any good books lately?”
She glared at him. “You also know exactly what books I’ve read because you brought them here and you no doubt looked them over to see if there was anything ‘inappropriate’ in them, such as real muggle empathy.”
He grinned at her. “Well, at least you have the honesty thing down better than last time.”
Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d been saying. To him. She must be going out of her mind. She had heard that isolation could do this to people, but she’d held up so well until now that she hadn’t thought that—
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I find it quite refreshing, really. More interesting than that passive act you’ve been putting on.”
“I’m never getting out of here, am I?” she quietly asked.
This seemed to take him by surprise. Why wouldn’t it? It had come out of the blue. For a moment he hesitated. “There’s no need to think about that,” he finally said. “I’m keeping you comfortable, aren’t I? And if the Dark Lord is pleased…”
“But I’m a Mudblood,” she bitterly retorted. “Your Dark Lord doesn’t tolerate our presence well!”
Again, he seemed to need a moment to come up with a reply. “There’s a few of your kind on our side,” he then said. “We don’t advertise it, but… there you have it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So he wants me to cross over?” The glance Draco shot her told her plenty. “Oh, fat chance,” she said. “I’ll die first!”
He shot out of his chair. “And you will! Have some sense of self-preservation, woman!”
“Self-preservation? If the price of my life is treason, murder and aiding your foul cause, then it’s not worth it!”
He crossed over to her. “You would do well to remember that death is final! It wouldn’t be that bad, you know,” he said, sounding almost urgent. “You could work in the background, you wouldn’t have to actually—“
“Yes, because your Master would understand my predicament and go easy on me. After all, he’s not a monster,” she scathingly said.
Draco actually smiled at her. It was a vague smile, but it was there. “No, he is a monster,” he admitted. “But even he has to work within his limitations. If he didn’t acknowledge the boundaries of people, at least some of the time, then the war would have been over years ago and he would have lost.”
“What a shame that that isn’t the case, then.”
“Perhaps,” Draco conceded, looking down at her. “But this is the world we live in, and we all have to do what we have to do to survive.”
Was he saying that he didn’t really want to be a Death Eater? She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.
“Are you expecting me to feel sorry for you?” she asked. “Because you made your—“ she let out a startled cry as he violently grabbed her upper arms, digging his fingers into her soft flesh.
“Never feel sorry for me,” he whispered ominously. “That would be your last mistake.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasped. “He still wants me alive.”
“Alive, yes,” he gritted out. “But not necessarily well.” He pushed her away so forcefully that she almost fell and then he wandered back to his chair as if nothing had happened.
“I thought you wanted me to be honest,” she said, fighting hard to keep the shakiness out of her voice.
He smirked at her. “Even honesty has its limits. Now, is there anything you want me to bring next time?”
Draco was surprised to find the room in darkness the next time he let himself in a couple of days later. Outside it was no more than two o’clock, but in here it was dark as night and his little Mudblood prisoner was fast asleep. Of course. He smirked slightly. She had not been given a watch, her window had been darkened, and her meals were given at strange intervals to confuse her. Her sense of time would be messed up. Keeping her lonely and confused was important.
He softly closed the door behind him and lighted his wand before slowly walking towards the bed. This was the first time he’d had a chance to just watch her. She looked so very innocent and fragile in her sleep, but he knew that she wasn’t. Neither of them were. All innocence had been robbed from them years ago when they had both suddenly had to grow up and become warriors for their different causes. He suspected that she had probably dealt much better with it than he had at first.
He was much more in control of his emotions these days. That was, when he had any. He still cursed himself for losing his temper with her the last time he was here. He’d laid it on too thick too fast and she’d gotten suspicious and had hit a nerve. One of the few nerves he had left. She was a shrewd one, the little Mudblood, he’d do well not to forget that again.
She mumbled in her sleep and turned her face away from the wandlight, the blanket falling away from her shoulder to reveal that she was sleeping in her underwear. Ah, yes. He hadn’t thought to give her something to sleep in, although he had actually brought her a warmer blanket today. He probably should give her some nightwear next time. He briefly wondered if she would prefer pajamas, nightgowns or – if she hadn’t been so afraid of him – nudity.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and she frowned and tugged her blanket up under her chin. Really, he’d expected her to wake up by now. Didn’t she have any instincts telling her that danger was imminent? She sighed in her sleep and he had to suppose that she didn’t. He frowned slightly. Silly bint. How was it that she was still alive, being so careless and void of instincts?
She must be dreaming, because she was now fidgeting a little, making small sounds. It was probably a nightmare. And he was probably part of the cause. She bit her lip and he felt his eyes being drawn to her mouth. He had to admit that the times he had thought about her since he’d seen her naked, it hadn’t been her lips that had dominated his fantasies, but right now he found his mind flooding with images involving those lips. Not all of them were about kissing, but for now that would do.
He leaned over her and lowered his head, bracing himself against the bed.
Hermione was dreaming. There had been something about Harry being an accountant, and he’d demanded she settled her debts in apples. Now, she was standing alone in the clearing of a forest, trying to remember how she’d gotten there and what she was supposed to be doing. She was sure she almost knew it, when suddenly everything fell away and this horrible black void was threatening to swallow her. She tried to scream, but no sound came. She tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. She was doomed and she knew it and then… She felt strong arms around her, grounding her, keeping her safe. Warm lips were caressing hers, comforting her. She eagerly accepted the comfort, responding to the kiss. Who her savior was, she couldn’t see; his face was shrouded in shadows. She tentatively raised a hand and ran it through his hair, awed at how real it felt in spite of her not being able to see it clearly enough to even tell its color. She felt an almost forgotten need for more and deepened the kiss. Her savior growled deep in his throat and pulled her closer.
Something was nagging at her, but she pushed it away.
She was safe; she had no need to worry. Her body was tingling and sensitive to the touch and she yearned for her savior to touch her, to bring her closer to that thing she craved so very much. His kiss got more demanding, more urgent, and she sighed against his lips, realizing without surprise that she was dreaming. She wondered how far she could take this before she had to wake up. She tightened her grip on his hair and let the other hand caress his back, again intrigued with how solid he felt. Solid, maybe, but not real. His lips were tracing her jaw and she let her head fall back against something soft, and she felt his breath on her neck only moments before he latched on and sucked, giving her a sweet, exquisite pain that startled her and made her moan aloud with need.
The dreamlike fog scattered and Hermione was left with confusion, a sweet, pulsing ache between her legs, and a very real man above her. She gasped, realizing what was going on.
He pulled back and she could tell he was smirking by the faint light from his wand that he’d placed just outside of her grasp. “Took you long enough,” he mumbled.
“What… What are you doing?” she all but squeaked, scrambling to get away from him.
“I think that should be obvious by now,” he replied. “I daresay you reacted much more favorably than I had thought you would.” The way he looked at her spoke volumes.
Hermione closed her eyes as mortification colored her cheeks. “I was dreaming,” she whispered.
“And what a dream it must have been,” he hoarsely replied.
She didn’t have to look at him to know that the kiss had affected him, too. She could hear the want in his voice. She averted her gaze and refused to look at him again.
He sighed and she felt the bed move as he got off it. “You’re a real tease, you know that, Granger?” he said before he left.