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: 5/10 Chapters. This chapter: 1663 words.
The mark on her neck wasn’t that bad, Hermione concluded as she was standing in front of the mirror after she had given up getting any more sleep. And it wasn’t as if anyone would see it. Except herself. And him. Hermione closed her eyes and groaned. Encouraging Draco to have his way with her really wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do at all. She didn’t know how she had managed to not wake up while he’d been kissing her, but she’d better sleep lightly from now on. She didn’t want to know where he’d take it if she didn’t.
But the problem was, no matter what she did, he could take it wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased.
Then why not do it? A tiny voice asked.
Hermione was appalled at herself. So, it had felt nice, yes. But dreams were odd like that. She’d once had a highly inappropriate dream about a unicorn that had felt much the same and that didn’t mean anything more than a confused subconscious.
But, the voice persisted. He can take you anyway and you know that, soon, he will. So why not brave the inevitable and get him to lower his guard in the process?
Could she do that? Could she really do that? Could she willingly sleep with the enemy in order to find a way out? She supposed that people had done much worse things over the ages, but the question was: How much was she prepared to sacrifice for her freedom? And, would she even be able to?
The next time Draco showed up, he brought her some nightclothes. It reminded Hermione acutely of the night he had kissed her and she looked away, too embarrassed to react. She had sort of made up her mind, but now that he was here, it was so much harder. She felt awkward, very awkward. She glanced at the lamp. Perhaps it would be easier if it was darker, or—
“What?” he asked.
She jumped. “What what?”
“Why are you fidgeting? Is this because of last time?” he had the audacity to smirk.
“N-no, it’s nothing.” Hermione shook her head.
How did one do this? Did she just say ‘ok, do whatever you want’ or did she have to… do something? There was apparently no great seductress lost in her. She glanced at him apprehensively and noticed that he was now frowning at her. Oh, that was great. Making him annoyed was sure to get her what she wanted.
“You’re still fidgeting,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can certainly see why they called you the brightest witch of our age.”
Hermione flushed a bright red. Ok, this wasn’t going very well. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“There’s clearly something you want, so out with it, already.”
This would be a good place to blurt it out, so Hermione opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat. Not a sound came. Eventually, she decided to close her mouth again.
He was now looking a bit amused. “What? Do you need some embarrassing female products or something?”
Hermione flushed a bit again but shook her head.
Her eyes dropped to his lips, noticing their fullness, imagining how they’d felt on hers, and his whole demeanor instantly changed from amused to wary tension.
“You’ve got to be joking,” he breathed.
Hermione didn’t think she could take any more of this. It was a stupid plan anyway; she was far from sure it would have worked, so she just shrugged and turned her back on him, hoping to disguise her mortified look.
She felt his hands on his shoulders a second later, applying a slight pressure to get her to turn.
“Why?” he asked.
That was actually a very good question for him to ask. One that she hadn’t considered.
She shrugged. “M-maybe I just want to.”
He looked singularly unconvinced. “Try again, Granger.”
She looked him defiantly in the eye, although she’d really prefer to hide in a hole. “I’ve been here for close to six weeks, you know,” she said. “A girl has needs.”
“So you expect me to believe that after being away from your lover – still that Weasley, is it? – for six weeks, you will be desperate enough for a shag to throw yourself at a Death Eater?”
“Oh, forget it!” she huffed, trying to free herself from his grip.
“Not on your life, Granger,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what you think you’re up to, but I’ve never been one to let an opportunity like this pass me by…”
She stilled. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She looked up at him and he was staring at her hungrily. It unsettled her.
“Maybe I don’t want to anymore,” she whispered, suddenly feeling apprehensive.
“Too late for that,” was his reply, as he grabbed her arms tighter and pulled her closer.
Her eyes widened and her heart began hammering in her chest with a mix of arousal and fear. What did he mean, ‘too late’? She struggled against him, but he merely tightened his grip further.
“Stop it,” he hissed. “You wanted it and now you’ve got it.”
She shook her head. “I-I…”
He didn’t allow her to finish the sentence, but covered her mouth with his, sliding one hand up to tangle almost painfully in her hair and another hand down to rest on her waist. When she opened her mouth to object again, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth.
To her own great horror, Hermione felt her body reacting much as it had when she had been asleep, yet this time she didn’t have the excuse of dreaming. She had never thought herself to be wanton, but right now she was proving herself to be just that, as she sighed against his lips and her arms somehow got around his neck. His kiss turned as hungry as his gaze had been and she knew there was no way to avoid this. She felt panic rising inside of her, but at the same time the adrenaline was heightening her arousal.
She wasn’t supposed to like it. He was not a good guy. He did not care about her and he never would.
His hand that had been on her waist was finding its way up under her sweater and t-shirt to cup her breast through her bra. She moaned at the contact, and she felt him react to it. He broke away from her.
“I take back some of my suspicions,” he mumbled. “You really do want this, don’t you?”
Again, Hermione was acutely embarrassed. “A gentleman wouldn’t comment on that,” she replied.
He chuckled. “I’m not a gentleman. I’m an aristocrat. There’s a difference.”
He grabbed the edge of her sweater and pulled it over her head, doing the same thing with her t-shirt, leaving her in her trousers and a bra. She felt exposed. An idea occurred to her.
“What about you?” she purred, letting her hands slide down his front, hoping to find his wand. If she could just get it from him, then she wouldn’t have to go any further.
His hands caught hers. “I don’t think so,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows at him. He couldn’t know what she had been thinking… could he? He hadn’t used Legilimency, she knew that much, but perhaps he was merely being cautious.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded.
She glanced over at the bed. She wasn’t too sure that she really wanted to go near it.
“Well, go on,” he said impatiently.
She did as he asked, because there was little else she could do. In the few seconds it took her to go there, he had removed his dark robes, placing them at a safe distance. Underneath his robes he was wearing black trousers and a pale green shirt. Not bad-looking on him at all.
What was she thinking?
Well, if I’m going to sleep with him, I might as well enjoy it.
No. No, no, no, no. No. Not an option. She would hate every second of it.
He flashed her a feral grin as he moved closer. “No need to look so scared. I won’t hurt you… Unless you want me to?”
She gave him a disgusted look. “Certainly not!”
“It figures that you goody-goody types wouldn’t know how to have fun.”
“Pain is not fun.”
“You say that now…” He had reached the bed and was now looking hungrily at her breasts in spite of her having crossed her arms protectively over them.
Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. “Look, Malfoy…”
“Unless you’re going to tell me how you want it then forget it,” he interrupted.
She snorted. “As if it matters how I want it.”
He glanced at her face and smirked in his most annoying way. “Ah, but I live to please my pet, hadn’t you noticed?”
“Fine, here’s how I want it: Over. Fast.”
She just couldn’t help herself. Her pride had a really hard time dealing with this predicament. His smirk disappeared and she thought for a second she saw anger flash in his eyes. Then it was gone, carefully hidden behind a mask of indifference, and he shrugged.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were having trouble dealing with what you want.”
She sneered at his too accurate guess. “It’s not you I want, Malfoy. It’s what’s between your legs.”
She couldn’t stand his arrogance and she didn’t know why she’d come up with this inane plan to begin with. He leaned over her and tugged at her legs so she was flat on her back beneath him. “How fortunate. I want what’s between your legs, as well.” Before she could respond to that crass reply, he had bent to claim her mouth again.