House: Slytherin

Category: Drabble

Prompts: Disgusted (Emotion)

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger,

Word count: 884 (Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Short Story and Title)

Summary: From the moment he met her, he loathed her. Now, seeing herkneeling in front of him as she was, eyes begging him for death, Draco Malfoy regrets ever allowing an emotion such as disgust to come over him.

Rating: NC-17- For suggestive themes such as rape and drugs

Author's Note: As always, I changed my mind at least five times until I settled on a prompt. (I really wish I could write one for each one!). Having failed to finish my final piece for round Two, I wanted to step it up a notch during this round. I had a blast writing this one!

Note: This is absolutely my 1st first-person fic, so be mindful! It is not my favorite perspective, but as soon as I started to write it, the words took on a life of their own and this was the result.

As always, enjoy

-Carolare Scarletus

-The Sharpest Lives-

Malfoy Manor

Wiltshire, England

This woman was my destiny, and my one and only weakness. And while I tilted my head in consideration to her deplorable state, taking in the tattered remains of the dress that clothed her almost naked body and the matted appearance of her hair, my heart leapt and pinched. Nothing ever came close to crossing me that made me feel dead than the blasted way she was looking at me- with scorn and betrayal.

Out of everything that I could say about her, it was her eyes that gave her away and it was one of the many things that I absolutely loathed about her.

"There has to be something you can do," she begged, looking at me with those wide, sorrowful eyes that I've come to love. They were a mixture between crisp honey and bark, but they were nothing compared to the storm that was brewing within mine.

For as long as I could remember, I've always hated her.

Her bushy brown hair, her wild ideologies and her boundless energy and intelligence- I hated it all. But, that wasn't where my focus was as she continued to play to the human side of my now corrupted body.

We were drawn to the middle of a room. I could vaguely make out her features in the impenetrable darkness, but I knew that they certainly weren't that of respect. Candlelight flickered disturbingly, sending distilled vibes to run through my body. Our only audience was the cloaked figures at each corner of the room and they were expecting a grand show.

My chest tightened again at what I was about to do and I clenched my hands as I stilled my arms at my sides.

In the background of my own musing, I found her voice again. This time, she was begging me not touch her.

"Please, Malfoy" she cried. "Don't make me do this." If her hands hadn't been bound behind her back and she wasn't kneeling in front of me than she would have raised them to her eyes and let out a heart-wrenching sob that would have made even the Gods cry. However, that wasn't so and I showed her no sympathy as I raised my hand and brushed her hair out of her face as to allow me to etch every endearing inch of her into memory.

What I was about to do was something I had been doing to her for weeks, and it was only now that her resolve broke and she began to panic. Having been captured some time before Easter, kept under lock and key and only given the bare minimal to prosper, Hermione was a shell of her former self. The boy-who-was-born-to-live-to-annoy-me had escaped with his baboon of a friend, leaving her to fend for herself. Once a shining annoyance that sparkled every which way was now a crumbling blink in my existence. If someone asked me if I could ever love someone like her- a know-it-all Mudblood I would have laughed myself straight to the grave. I'd still be turning, I reckoned. Instead, I harbored these emotions until this epiphany became something I truly didn't recognize and it tore me up inside.

I loved her.

This bloody war had wrung something other than complete apathy for my own cowardliness. It had brought out things that made me question ever fucking aspect of myself.

I look at her, startled as I tried to keep my composure. "You know I can't, Granger," I said, swallowing the lump that formed inside of my throat. Even my own voice sounded cowardly to my ears as I reached out to caress her jaw, my awaiting member standing proudly between my legs. "You don't understand, I have to do this."

"No, you don't."

Before any of the awaiting viewers could intervene, I grabbed her chin forcefully and aligned her face with mine, my eyes searching hers in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves. They only wanted to see her pain and misery. As much as I killed me on the inside, that was all they wanted and they would leave. Like all the other times I've taken her. They never actually watched me take her, and she knew. It was the fact that they were watching now was what was causing her to crumble beneath my fingers like some fragile antique cup.

My heart leapt again, this time taking a soaring dance into the air before plummeting back into my chest. A unsettling feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"Don't assume things," I beg her then, feeling my own emotions boil over the proverbial line. Didn't she think that I was just as shameful and scared as she was? Hadn't realized during our time under the moonlight that I didn't want to do this? That the mere thought of what I was going to do to her killed me on the inside? "Trust me."

Again, I swallowed another lump and let her chin go, trying to keep the remaining content of my stomach from scoring my sore throat.

She looked at me with the same contemptment of hatred and disgust that I have grown to despise, and for a foolish second, I believed that I had won.

But, I was wrong.