"Rappelle - toi de moi" = Remember me
"Obsede" = Obsessed, I wanted it to mean obsessor but my french friend informed me that the word technically doesn't exist. She explained the equivalent is obsessed.
"Ne m'oublie pas." = Don't forget me
This chapter is somewhat intense. Well I hope you feel the tension because I certainly did writing it!
GiTG x
A single white rose lay on her kitchen bench, and she acknowledges it looks oddly out of place. Moving towards it willingly with a strange pull in the pit of her stomach, the feeling of anticipation rises inside her.
She brings the rose to her nose and basks in it's delicious scent - when something startles her.
"Hello, my love."
A tall shadowy figure steps out of the darkness.
Draco stands there; eyebrow raised, a devilish smirk playing on his satisfied face. Hermione gasps -her body seems to be having conflicting reactions at the sight of him. Her fingers tremble, but her heart slams against her chest; she is giddy, and her mind feels a heavy fog.
He's here in the flesh. Right now.
"I want to talk to my darling. Forgive me my dear - Incarcerous ."
Thick, black, snake-like ropes wrap around Hermione. She merely stands, dazed, somewhat lost in the moment.
He came for me, she thinks to herself.
It never ceases to amaze her how she can appear to have her wits about her, but when Draco is in the flesh or flashes of Draco come to mind, she loses her ability to think straight. A mental fog washes over her, and she feels uncontrollably foolish. It's strange how the illusions of the mind deceive her.
She knows something isn't right. But each time a flash of her reason peeks through, and she feels herself fighting to come back, he comes to the forefront of her mind and controls her thoughts all over again.
She remembers things, but she cannot say them. And her friends fail to notice because she is still her same level-headed self but with strange additions: the darkness of a past only she knows of, haunting her.
Draco clears his throat; he swipes his tongue over his lips, "Rappelle - toi de moi," he says.
Hermione's glazed fog lifts and her docile expression is replaced with sheer terror as she is no longer clouded by the curse upon her. She wishes her friends could figure it out and help her.
It is such ancient magic and rather genius. Draco has cursed the words "remember me" in French. Only when the words leave his lips does it render Hermione helpless. Similar to the Imperious curse but in the act of desire, it allows the obsede to 'own' the desired person.
The cursed forces its victim to lose the ability to think negatively of the obsede , clouding judgement, but the power of control also stems from personal desires -meaning the cursed can only be "owned" if their own affections exist. The trance-like state appears visible when the 'cursed' is in the presence of the obsede , forcing the cursed one to submit to their control.
Magic is useless where the cursed is concerned. And the obsede will haunt the cursed in the body, mind, and spirit when in control. If separated from the obsede, the cursed one can live a regular life, failing to rouse suspicions from those who know them best.
Sometimes in her trance like state, Hermione's mind allows her to break through in short bursts, but it's never strong enough for her to speak the words: help me.
Everyday she continues to fight the spell she is under in hopes that someone -anyone will recognise the symptoms of such a curse.
She is slowly losing hope...
Hermione admits she is drunk in love. She's intoxicated on the blurry euphoria of loving Draco. But in the moments where she is allowed to think wholly for herself, she can identify a glitch in the matrix.
"Malfoy. Release me. Now !"
"That's no way to greet me after the length of time we've spent apart," responds Draco flatly. "I'm afraid I simply cannot do that."
Hermione's voice is completely void of emotion. "You ruin me."
"You complete me."
"Is that supposed to be a pickup line? I'm insulted. That's got to be the lamest line in existence..."
"That was just plan A."
"Enlighten me. What is plan B?"
"Take you hostage," replies Draco thickly.
"No," whispers Hermione in disbelief.
"I wasn't giving you an option."
A surge of confidence strikes Hermione, and she finds her voice, "I don't believe abduction is scheduled on my calendar for this evening."
"It's not abduction if you come willingly, Granger. You see, you say one thing. But your body language tells me something different."
Hermione stares blankly ahead, not daring to give him the satisfaction of knowing he is right.
Draco steps forward. "Your empty expression doesn't fool me."
Hermione's chest heaves, and a shaky breath escapes her. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to regain her self-control. No, I control my body. Not you , she thinks to herself. She opens her eyes and tries to steady her breath.
He takes another step forward.
"Have you forgotten that I've been inside of you?"
Hermione gulps, her legs shifting uncomfortably, and she clenches her thighs. She can feel herself being drawn in by his seductive words, but she refuses to fall into his trap.
He takes another step forward.
"I've been inside your head, and I know your heart."
Hermione can no longer control the rose flush to her cheeks, but she desperately wishes she could.
Draco takes a final step forward, stopping directly in front of her. There is less than an inch between them, and Hermione can feel his hot breath on her face. He further inches forward, nose to nose.
"I know parts of you better than you know yourself."
Hermione is paralysed, and her internal struggle is failing. Her mind says 'get the fuck out', but her heart slams wildly in her chest, telling her to stay.
And so, the tension continues to build. She would be able to cut the tension between them with a knife and still feel the aftershocks of their separation.
Draco merely stands in her presence, completely transfixed on her. He shows no signs of backing down.
Either one could explode at any intense feeling between them is clearly mutual.
The fire in the pit of her stomach is raging, and a familiar pressure builds in her abdomen. She tries to push it aside, but given the gravity of the situation, her attempts are fruitless.
"My curse in you exists because you reflect my desires."
Hermione licks her lips subtly. She rolls her tongue along her bottom lip before swiping it back in and her lip trembles. She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth, biting it nervously in an attempt to stop it.
Bite your lip like that one more time witch, and I swear - Draco thinks to himself.
Draco inhales deep through his nose -an attempt to calm his urges, but it doesn't work. He's salivating for her. His hands rest flat by his sides, but his fingers tingle with anticipation.
Hermione presses her lips together.
Draco snaps, unable to control himself any longer. He closes the little distance between them by grabbing at her hips, forcing her to close the proximity between them. He swoops a hand around to the lower of her back and holds her there tight.
His other hand busies itself, peeling up the bottom of her nightdress as he slips his hand underneath the silky fabric. He glides his fingertips up her body, relishing in the moment.
He does this entirely whilst holding her gaze, and Hermione resorts to holding her breath in an attempt to ignore his advances. She should have known better.
Draco's mood shifts instantly; he is infuriated at her insolence. His fingertips stop trailing her body and hover over her stomach. He relaxes his strained features, but the bulging, thickened blood vessel on the side of his temple says otherwise. His fingers twitch as a jolt of rage pulses through them, causing his hands to curl into a snug fist.
Bam.
He punches her in the stomach, and the brunt of the force causes Hermione, instinctively, to bend forward. Draco catches her, preventing this. He smacks their bodies together, holding her tight as he forces her upright. He lifts her jaw up to face him, and Hermione coughs as she dribbles blood.
Draco pays particular attention to the way her crimson spurts out of her mouth.
My damaged darling. Why do I enjoy seeing you bleed for me? He thinks to himself. It takes his breath away, and he is overwhelmed by her beauty at this very moment…
Although weakened from the blow to her stomach, Hermione struggles against his vice-like grip, fighting for her freedom while her mind is still her own.
She wrestles him, manages to free her arms and takes several swipes, missing each one.
"Let. Me. Go!" she shrieks breathlessly as she struggles against his solid body, but she quickly learns how restrictive her movement is. A sharp pang of pain throws her off. She didn't realise the seriousness of it till now.
Analysing her symptoms, she quickly concluded internal injuries. Most likely her liver, given the location, level of pain and the blood spilling out of her mouth. This is not a good sign, but she doesn't give up hope, she refuses. Hermione refuses to be his victim anymore. She knows the dangers of returning to him, and she fears she will lose herself completely if she does. A victim of her reality, her consequence. No, she can't. She won't let him. He has taken enough from her already, and as long as she is alive, she has a reason to fight.
Draco is a deadly weapon of mass destruction. She, a victim of his war. It would only be so long before his rage combusts; his thirst for her is a ticking time bomb and time is almost up…
Displeased by her numerous attempts to strike him, Draco grips her hair. He wraps it around his hand twice and yanks it back violently. He looks down at her and chuckles. Fuck her fighting spirit; she will never win.
He glares at her, watching her quiver in his grip. He feels compelled to take her, right here, right now. With her hair tangled in his grip and her bloody face dripping on the carpet...
"Mine," he declares possessively, as he brings her face towards him. His patience is wearing thin. Draco uses his grip around her hair to move her face, subsequently yanking her head back to expose her neck. His mouth waters at the sight of her bare flesh as he gravitates towards her chin. The blood that had streamed down her chin is drying, and it resembles a Muggle painting he once saw. He chuckles at the irony of having recreated such a trivial thing with a muggle born witch.
He amorously dives into her neck. Kissing it, tugging at it with his teeth and sucking it. He entertains the idea of tasting her trauma, and his tongue connects with her flesh at the thought of it. He glides and flutters his tongue up her neck like a hummingbird. He reaches the drying blood on her chin in no time, and he licks at her nectar, like a dog lapping at a bowl of water.
Hermione's stomach contracts so violently that she had no time to give warning. Her dinner of stewed beef and vegetables propels from her stomach, and Draco is disgusted and pissed off at her interruption.
He throws her to the floor, and she curls up in the fetal position, doing her best to ignore the agonising pain she's in. She finally allows herself to cry.
Draco crouches over her, and before he gets a chance to say something Hermione spits a combination of blood a vomit at him. She continues with laboured breaths, unable to find the strength to speak, but the deadly glare on her face says it all.
Draco scourgifies himself at once. He steps back and watches her lay motionless in a pathetic heap on the floor. He tries to repress his uncontrollable rage, but he's been pushed too far.
As she lays there with swollen eyes, he sees right through her and thinks, 'insubordinate bitch.'
"This is why we can't have nice things Granger," he says in an abrasive manner.
Hermione ignores him, desperately trying to formulate an escape plan.
"You're going to regret that." He crouches over her body and whispers, "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."
Hermione's head snaps back to find his unsettling gaze and her eyes drill into him. "What doesn't kill me might make me kill you."
The corner of Draco's lips curl as his mind fills with sinister thoughts. Hermione's fire has refuelled his desire, and he is reminded of her delicious spirit. It sparks his boundless urge as he feels the need to crush her again.
"Please," Draco whispers, "do try... it will add to the pleasure of the foreplay. Until then, goodnight. Ne m'oublie pas ."
It only takes a second for Hermione to plunge into the darkness of the foggy veil. Just like that, she loses herself behind the illusion of her mind, his face the forefront of it all.
Draco leaves Hermione on the floor in her cloud. It normally takes her while to regain a sense of normalcy. Even so, he wants to move things along rather quickly. He scourgifies her and then proceeds to take care of business.
"Stupefy."