Hermione's tongue darted out to wet her top lip which had become unbearably dry when she saw him at the door of the tent.
"No," she said softly, her hands in front of her, as he took a step inside the small tent.
He looked at her and smirked, and she knew in an instant why she was there. Perhaps she'd known for awhile. Her rational mind had tried to find a way out but was completely unable.
"So….your name ent Penelope, am I right?," he started, his voice no more than a whisper, his deliberate steps towards her becoming more menacing.
"I….I don't know what you're talking about," she said her hands still in front of her as she looked behind her before moving away from him.
He stopped.
"Yes you do."
Hermione took a breath in as she felt tears prick the corner of her eyes. "I—I …..," she started, and took a step back only to realize that she had backed completely into the table and there was nowhere else to go.
The terrible smirk grew larger as he raised his eyebrows and continued towards her, a few feet away. "Yes, my lovely….I know that is Harry Potter, which makes you, indeed, Miss Granger."
She didn't have time to respond, for he was not a foot from her and reached over her shoulder. She jerked her head in response, but he had already caught a lock of her hair and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
It was an extremely unsettling motion, and Hermione let out a whimper. He edged closer and chuckled, his face near her neck, taking another deep breath of her hair.
"You smell of vanilla," he said as she squirmed and let out a choked sob.
"Please-," she started, her hands now on his chest as he inched ever closer.
The hair still in his hands, his face still near her neck he turned to her ear. She could feel his hot breath for a few seconds, ghosting the shell of her earlobe and she shuddered, her stomach lurching.
"You're going to be my favourite."
He said it directly into her ear, his voice no more than a whisper. One tear fell from her eyes, then two. Every nerve was on end, and gooseflesh arose everywhere. Her entire skin felt too small and on fire.
His hands slowly went to her forearms and traced up them slowly.
She was breathing erratically, her body in fight or flight response, tight like a harp string, waiting for his next move. She didn't have to wait long.
He spun her so her back was to him and wrenched the jacket from her shoulders all in a single motion.
"NO!," she screamed, but he had brought his gloved hand up to cover her mouth.
He was directly behind her and he spoke into her ear quietly again.
"I would really hate to have to cast a silencing charm on you."
She struggled against him as his arm snaked its way around her waist. She almost bit into his hand when he started speaking again.
"Now, can I trust that if I move my hand you won't scream? Gives me quite a headache. Don't want to be forced to shut you up."
She seemed to consider this for a moment, still faced away from him, teeth dragging into the glove, and then he felt her lips close over her teeth and she shook her head against his hand, signaling she would be quiet.
"That's better," he said, his mouth still unsettlingly close to her ear. "See?," he said as he pushed her with his arm, making her turn towards him.
"Now….my lovely," he said, his eyes traveling downwards to her chest, "we can do this the easy way….or the hard way."
