Everything in his vision was a swirl of motion and color. As he moved with his partner he couldn't keep his eyes from straying. Seeking. By comparison, they were the best dancers out of the whole lot stumbling around the great room, he moved with pride and sureness and Daphne kept up with no trouble at all. Once or twice she had tried to start a conversation but Draco had not been in the mood for talk; though he'd had plans for bedding the witch after the ball now all he could think about was Granger, and in consequence ignored his partner, which left her in a darkened mood.
Daphne twisted suddenly in his grip and Draco glanced down in surprise but she had only turned to make a face at a friend who stood nearby and was now laughing. When she turned back her smile faded fast and their eyes met, Draco understood she had made fun of him. Before the dance her bright black eyes had shone with excitement and a hint of desire; now only contempt revealed itself. Draco understood his behavior had incited this, her pride was wounded and he should have apologized but he didn't care to. Daphne looked away at last and held her chin high, and didn't look at him for the remainder of the song.
Like a statue carved from marble she had a stately air and cold demeanor that drew others to her wherever she went but where Daphne was ice Hermione was fire, and even now, like a child lost in a dark forest his eyes sought her out, his burning flame, wherever she might be. He closed his eyes, bringing forth the memory of his little bird in his arms, twisting and moving her body along with his as gracefully as a ballerina. That luminous smile.
She would be his soon.
Taking upon Blaise's comment he'd written a letter to his father, informing him on his progress on his mission. He'd asked to inquire of the Dark Lord if he could bring himself a 'souvenir' if his mission went well. The reply had come quickly and the answer pleased Draco immensely.
The Dark Lord had agreed. In his words, according to his father, 'Draco may bring whatever souvenir he wishes from Hogwarts, should his mission be successful. However, do not let this distract from the mission at hand, or a heavy price must be paid.'
A cold shiver ran its way up his spine but he paid it no mind and turning back to the present, bowed as the dance ended. Daphne curtsied, and he took her hand and led her back to the tables and chairs in a secluded corner, where Blaise and Pansy were sitting. Fanning herself and looking rather cross, Pansy was talking to Blaise and pointedly not looking at him. Blaise didn't seem to care, but said something in reply and caught Draco's eye, then shifted his gaze to the side quickly. Draco nodded. Taking Daphne's hand and leading her to a seat, where she stiffly sat down and pointedly looked away from him, already calling to Pansy to sit with her. Draco cut his losses and didn't waste time saying goodbye but followed Blaise out of the room, his eyes still scanning the room for Granger.
Once Draco would have felt the sting of Daphne's indifference, even if he had caused it and would have become angry but he understood the damage had been done and Daphne had moved on. He didn't care. He needed to find Granger. As he followed Blaise Draco caught a glimpse of Potter and Weasley, who appeared immensely worried, speaking to each other in low tones as Lavender Brown hovered nearby, unsure of what to do.
They walked a good distance away from the Great Hall, ending up on the second floor in a seldom-used classroom. Blaise held open the door and Draco stepped in quickly.
Blaise sat on the desk in front of the room, straightening his suit.
"Where is she?" Draco asked. "She wasn't with Potter or Weasley, and she wasn't on the dance floor either."
Blaise peered at him from the corner of his eye. "The last they saw her, she was dancing with Potter. I heard them talking; apparently that McLaggen fellow was dancing with her. I looked around a bit, though, and saw a bit of motion behind one of the Christmas trees. I was going to go investigate when Granger and Longbottom walked out from behind it. Both looked like they'd had a good snog, to be truthful. She was hugging him. He said something that alarmed her and by the looks of it, she was begging him for something. They kept looking over to Potter, and they both looked really worried. Granger left the hall and he went to speak with Potter, who looked worried after they spoke. Tried to go after her but Longbottom stopped him. Don't know why, I was too far away to hear anything."
Draco's fists clenched and he glared at Blaise. "Granger and Longbottom. You're sure." Blaise nodded.
Draco swore loudly and paced around the room, kicking at a chair that was unfortunate enough to be in his way. Hearing it clatter to the farther end of the room, he turned, narrowing his eyes at his friend.
"You're absolutely sure about this."
Blaise grinned. "When have I ever lied to you?" Draco slammed his hand on the desk. The other Slytherin didn't even flinch.
"You better not be lying about this, Zabini."
Blaise glared at him now, losing his patience. "D'you need a bloody Wizard's Oath? I'm not lying, for fuck's sake."
Draco nodded and stood up, his cold eyes distant.
"Did your father ever reply to your letter?" Blaise asked. Draco nodded. "What did he say?"
"The Dark Lord has approved of it so long as Dumbledore is dealt with."
"So you'll be taking her? The Mudblood, I mean."
Draco twitched at the word 'Mudblood' and nodded, turning back to the window.
"On the same day I complete my task."
"Does she know?" Blaise looked up, curious. "Any word on exactly when that will be?"
"Spring," was all Draco would say.
"Exactly how will you take her, though? She'll be fighting with the Order, and she's not an easy one to take down."
"I know. We'll overwhelm her and take her out. If that fails, I use Dumbledore as a bargaining tool."
"But you're supposed to kill him."
"I know. And I will kill him, whether she agrees to come or not. If we fail in bringing her then I'm sure the Dark Lord will help me find a way to do so later on."
"And you're sure the Dark Lord will go to all this trouble just for one girl?" Blaise tried to keep the doubt from his voice and failed.
Draco's eyes flashed. "She is bound to have valuable information. The Dark Lord would be a fool to not take advantage of that if he can't get Potter."
Blaise leaned back, mulling it all over. He swung his legs and stood up from the desk, clapping his hands.
"Sounds like a plan," he announced.
After Hermione had asked Ginny not to tell anyone about their conversation, Ginny had gone back to the Great Hall and Hermione had opted to go to the library for some time alone. She was too tired to go all the way to the dorm to change out of her dress and was afraid of encountering Malfoy there so she went straight to her nook, unlocking the library doors when she was sure there was nobody around. During the questioning, she had almost told them about Malfoy's harassment but had faltered when she realized that she would have to supply the memories of each instance as evidence, and while with Cormac she had only one, there were several concerning Malfoy.
What would they think of it all? She hated to think they would see what he had done to her as if felt more disturbing and personal than what Cormac had done to her. They would look at her memories and see that she had hardly fought back though not by her own intention. They would see that she had dealt with it in her own way, and through the time lapse between each assault they would see that she had chosen not to tell.
Would they assume she liked it? Would they think her weak? Stupid for falling for it so often? Worse… would they think she liked it like Malfoy had accused her of? His threats from their dance earlier floated back to her and added to her insecurity. To tell or not? She had felt so good in breaking Cormac's nose, and while that high had lasted she had decided she would report Malfoy as well, but now that the high was gone she was left back to stewing in worry and doubt. In the end, she had said nothing else and was not sure that she had made the right choice. Ginny's words had been a huge comfort. She had even offered to help Hermione report this unknown offender, but Hermione had declined. Tomorrow, everyone would be leaving early in the morning to head back home for the holiday. When they came back she would report Malfoy. It would not be easy, and he might retaliate as he had hinted, but Cormac's assault had been the straw to break her back. She would build her courage in the meantime.
Ginny had not asked the identity of her attacker. Hermione figured she would learn about Cormac anyway when everyone else learned he had been expelled, and she could attribute their painful talk to him. The same would happen once she reported Malfoy and had him expelled, but for now, she wanted that cursed association to remain secret.
Now she was back in the empty corridor, hands cold and her feet aching from the dancing and from her hasty flight back up, she'd have liked to go slower but didn't want to be seen. Luckily, there hadn't been a single soul out of the great hall which made her smile bitterly. At least the ball had been a success. She hoped Malfoy would choke on his drink, wherever he was.
She entered the library swiftly and made sure to lock it behind her. It was warm inside but she was cold anyway. The silence of the room was deafening, crashing down around her ears like waves till her ears buzzed—or was that just the exhaustion? She walked past rows and rows of books, intent on reaching her nook.
Her eyes felt heavy and her face was itchy. She wiped at her cheeks, attempting to rub off the dry streams of tears. Her head spun and she barely made it to the window seat when the tears began to spill.
Anger at Cormac and Malfoy, embarrassment and worry for Harry, gratitude for Neville and Ginny spilled out of her eyes as she sobbed into the soft material of the cushions around her. She shook, wondering if Cormac would actually have gone so far as to rape her in his drunken stupor. It seemed likely. Malfoy's threat had resurfaced in her thoughts as well, as if the night had not gone badly enough. Her whole body shook, and she let it, for once letting her emotions run.
Malfoy's words would not leave her head. His hands on her body, too familiar, too restricting. The cold, heavy weight of his stare as they had danced. Cormac's lips on her face, her neck. She shuddered. Perhaps she should have gone to take a bath instead. A very hot one. She felt gross all over.
What force on Earth made them think they were entitled to her body? Just what had taken the place of their brains that they would behave in such a way? Hermione had heard other girls around the school talk about this before, about their experiences where "no" meant nothing to their attackers. She remembered the looks on their faces, their hushed, pained voices, the anger lying beneath. She had never experienced it before until now, and she joined in that anger fully.
For once, the aroma of the old books surrounding her could not comfort her. The lovely, soothing colored light weakly streaming in from the window only bothered her. When she fell asleep she didn't know, but one moment she had been conscious and the next she had slipped down into nothingness, her thoughts and emotions blurring into one large, dark dangerous cloud in her dream, far off in the murky horizon, but she knew it was coming closer. She could feel the menacing presence it beheld and knew it was coming straight for her.
Draco strode through the empty corridors, his anger seeping into his veins, his lungs, his bones. All at once he wanted to go find Longbottom and rip him apart, limb by limb, and Potter too, but first he needed to find Granger. He hissed the password to their dorm and burst through the door, glancing around to find the girl. Nothing. Unlocked her door with a flick of his wand and stepped through, not caring about the amount of noise he was making, and it didn't matter anyway because she wasn't there either.
Mind racing angrily, he strode back to the common room.
Where is she?
He closed his eyes and thought hard as to where she might be. She'd left Potter and Weasley, according to Blaises' report she had not wanted to see them before she'd left.
She must be hiding from them, then, he thought. That ruled out the Gryffindor Common Room, which was good because he never would have been able to get in. He rifled through his mind, wondering where she could have run off to when it hit him. The one place she always was; like a second home to her.
The library.
He set off at a brisk pace, almost running.
The library was closed but that didn't stop him. Surely it wouldn't have deterred Granger, either. He expected a series of complicated spells to stop him from entering but there was nothing. A silent 'Alohamora' opened the door and he was inside, shutting the doors behind him with a click. For extra measure, he added a Silencio at the entrance so no noise could escape the cavernous room.
Though he couldn't quite recall the exact location, his legs seemed to have a perfect memory, taking long strides to the area he distantly remembered.
The cloud was coming closer and closer in her dream; thunderclaps rang out like loud, demanding footsteps. It scared her. In her dream, the faster she ran, the cloud continued to follow her. How absurd, to fear and run from something so normal and harmless, but this was no normal cloud and its malevolence reached out to her, licking at her back and the soles of her feet regardless of how far she thought she got away from it.
There she was at last.
Cuddled into the window seat, her back to him. Her curls were spread over her like a thick blanket, the shimmery hairpins sliding out of her hair and onto the floor with soft plinks. In all her haste, she'd bunched up the skirt of her dress around her thighs so she could walk faster. Her white legs stretched out, intertwined on the dark cushion, and her arms lay folded over her face, shielding her eyes.
She was shivering hard, her shoulders and legs shaking. He thought he heard a whimper.
"Granger," he barked, and she jumped, jerking awake from her nap.
Confused, blinking her eyes rapidly, Hermione looked around and went pale when she saw who had woken her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. Fear rose up in her chest at the look on his face. "What do you want?"
"What happened between you and Longbottom?" he asked, looking at her with such intensity she felt naked again, stripped under his stare.
Why was he here? Why was he asking her that? How had he remembered this place? She cursed herself for ever having brought him here.
"Nothing," she whispered. She hated how weak she sounded. Clearing her throat, she added, "And it's none of your business, too, so clear off."
She rose, brushing her skirt back down over her legs. She straightened and noted with dismay he was blocking the exit.
"Don't lie to me," he whispered. "You were seen cavorting with Longbottom behind one of the trees. Do you deny it?"
She stared up at him, incredulous.
"Why does it matter? This doesn't concern you," she asked angrily, losing her patience. She fingered her wand, waiting to strike.
Malfoy stepped closer, and she backed away, stepping behind the table.
"Let me out, Malfoy. Madam Pince is here, I'll scream for help," she warned, hoping he wouldn't see through her lie.
But he did, because he stepped around the table, saying, "No she's not, pet. She was dancing with the Headmaster when I left. It's only you and I here. Now tell me why you left Potter to go with Longbottom."
His voice was low, lower than she'd ever heard it. It sent a shock of ice down her body, and she rounded the table, stopping when he followed her.
"Neville was helping me." She said, drawing out her wand. "Is that the answer you want? Now let me out or I'll hex you to pieces."
Malfoy grinned. "Helping you with what?"
She raised her chin, trying hard not to let him see her hands shaking. "I-I fell."
His eyes narrowed. "Liar."
He took several steps closer and foolishly, she took more steps back, until she was trapped against a bookshelf with nowhere to run. She cursed herself for not thinking straight, raising her wand to stop the blond wizard from coming any closer.
He looked at her wand, held by a shaking hand, unfazed.
"Do you really think that will stop me?"
Her breathing quickened; her lungs felt too small to hold the air she needed so desperately.
"Repulso!"
He blocked it with a Protego of his own, and while she was busy sending another curse at him, he ducked and dodged it, and moving so quickly she barely had time to register it, pinned her to the shelves.
"Immobulus!" She hissed, and that one just grazed his shoulder. "Confundo!"
That one hit him, but as he blinked hard and tried to shake off the dizziness and mental slowdown it caused, he managed to tighten his grip on her even more so that she couldn't slip away, and she was trying her damndest to.
The effects of the jinx faded quickly, and she had worn herself out trying to escape his grip. Draco yanked her wand from her fist and she cried out in rage. Hermione felt him place his palms on her cheeks, felt him lean in. She pushed against him, snarling with fear and anger, a tiger trying to claw its way out of a net.
"No!" she cried, "Get off me!"
Draco frowned, concentrating. He'd been taught Legimency at an early age by one of the masters; Snape himself. The only way he would get answers out of her was to employ it. Closing his eyes, he emptied his mind and focused on hers, drawing her thoughts to himself. The witch gave a small cry when she realized what he was doing and struggled harder against him, but he didn't move. He rifled through her memories of the events of the day in reverse, starting with her breaking into the library. Went back and sped up a bit, rewinding until he found her dancing with McLaggen. He watched what happened afterward, fury knotting in his stomach. Watched as Neville came in to help, heard their exchange of pleas, and felt her shame and anger.
Ending the spell brought him back to her and back into reality, restraining a furious Granger, who was yelling at him thickly through her tears. He saw her neck and could still see McLaggen's tongue crawling all over it as he had done only an hour before. Jealousy and anger overtook him, and he crashed his lips onto hers and undid his belt quickly, fingers flying.
Hermione let out a frustrated scream into his mouth, pushing against his chest, trying to turn away. Like before he didn't listen to a word she said, only kissed her more deeply. She tried leaning back so he would lose his balance but he only grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, his fingers digging painfully deep into her flesh until they met bone. She felt him wind a warm, leathery object around her wrists and she jerked away, commanding him to stop. He pulled away and tied his belt securely, trapping her wrists. She was leaning back into the bookshelf, gasping for breath and regarding him as if he were insane.
"What is wrong with you?" she hissed, her eyes large and disbelieving. How many times had she asked him already? Why did he never answer? "Have you gone mad?"
"I'd be the last to know if I had, so I don't think I can give you a satisfactory answer on that. And I told you earlier. I thought I've made it obvious I want you."
At hearing his confession she froze, and then let out a harsh, quick laugh of disbelief. "Surely you're drunk. Untie me right now and give me my wand. I'm tired of this."
The command was ignored—he grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the window seat, forcing her down onto it. Hermione was so stunned she didn't have time to react as he straddled her, holding her tied wrists above her head.
"I assure you I'm not drunk." He pressed a kiss to her neck and her lips parted in shock.
"You've always hated me," she said weakly, trying to make sense of what was happening. Her body was freezing up in fear.
"I have, and I do," he agreed. "That's how it started, I think. Believe me, I didn't set out wanting this to happen. It's your fault as much as mine. You've taken over me," he admitted hoarsely. "I don't know how you did it, little bird, but I only want to return the favor." She shuddered in revulsion.
Hermione's mind was reeling. She tugged her wrists, trying to slip them out of his belt. It was pulled so tight her hands were starting to lose feeling.
"I haven't done anything to you so I don't know what you're talking about. Now let me go. Please." She frowned, shivering when he chuckled and licked the shell of her ear.
"No doing, pet. Why would I let my little bird go when I've only just caught her? You belong to me."
He watched as her face drained of color and she stared up at him, her lovely eyes wide with shock and rage.
"You don't own me, you waste of magic. I belong to no one but myself." She gave a small shriek as he nipped her bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood.
"No—Malfoy, this isn't funny anymore. Let me go or I'll scream." Her words only seemed to energize him, he buried his head in her hair and inhaled, running his hand down her curves possessively.
"No one will hear you," he whispered, and her blood ran cold.
Malfoy pulled back and grinned at her, a genuine, wicked smile that showed teeth. It was the first time she'd ever seen him smile like that, and it terrified her.
"Get it into that thick skull of yours. You are mine, Granger. You bear my mark." That last sentence confused her, so he reached out and untied her wrists, only freeing her left arm. The second he'd freed it she flexed her arm and brought it quickly to the side as if to push him off, but he caught her wrist and roughly brought her arm closer to him. His other hand hovered over the crook of her elbow.
"What are you doing? What mark?" she asked, mild hysteria edging her voice.
"I marked you a while back, Granger. You just don't remember, but that's my doing." He placed his palm over her skin, muttering, "Finite Incantatem."
Slowly, her skin revealed a thin scar shaped like an ornate M. Horrified, Hermione sucked in a breath. "No. No. That's not possible. Where did this come from? When did you do this?" she recoiled in horror when he drew his wand and tapped it lightly on her forehead, restoring her memories of that awful night.
He watched as her eyes unfocused and she gasped at what was playing in her mind. When it was over her eyes refocused and she looked back at her scar in shock, tears in her eyes.
"M..." she whispered, lip quivering.
"M for Malfoy." He stole a hard kiss from her lips.
"M for mine." Reverently he ran his hand down the length of her thigh and hooked her leg around his waist roughly. She gasped and glared up at him, tears in her eyes. "Mudblood or not, you're mine."
"You disgusting bastard."
He watched her stare at her scar in disgust. A tear slipped down her face. Her lips parted and her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashed back up to his.
She held out her hand. "Give me my wand. I don't want any part of you on me. I never consented to any of this."
He arched an eyebrow at her. "No."
She pushed her arm at him more aggressively. "I don't want this. Get rid of it or I'll make you pay, Malfoy, I swear it." Tears quivered in her eyes, her lips began to tremble when he leered at her.
"It's a reminder, Granger. So next time you flirt with Potter or anyone else you'll remember who you belong to. You'll always have a reminder of where your place is, and that's with me."
She shook her head and tried yanking her arm out of his grasp, crying out in pain as he held it tighter and then leaned down to suck at her neck.
"No! Get off me!"
In response, he lowered himself onto her body and pushed his hips against hers, and she cringed at feeling his erection grind against her. Malfoy groaned and retied her arm with the other, magically fastening them to the wall. She continued to struggle and protest. Her panicked words filled the air around them, piercing both their ears, but none reached outside. He silenced her with a jab of his wand.
As he ran his large hands down to her chest, which was heaving with panicked breaths he felt her frantic heartbeat. Her skin was so soft and smooth, the tops of her breasts rose and fell with each breath, enticing him to cup them with his hands through her dress, to lean forward and kiss that bare skin, mark her with his tongue. Her cries were silenced due to the spell, tears leaked from her brown eyes. When he raised his eyes to hers she shook her head quickly, raising her brows in a silent plea.
"Don't worry, ma petite oiseau, I won't take you yet. This is hardly the proper place. But—" he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small green box, "I do have a little gift for you."
Her eyes told him exactly what he should do with his gift.
"Don't look at me like that. You'll like it, I'm sure." He lifted something small and delicate out of the box and held the item in his hands, shielding it from her view.
Moving quickly, he reached up and untied both of her hands, bringing them down into her lap. She grimaced at her stiff muscles and flexed her hands. The second he let go of one of her arms to pick the mysterious object from his hand she brought her palm to his face with a silent roar.
Before the blow could land he had caught her wrist as easily as if it were a Snitch. Thwarted in her revenge, the witch glared at him and tried to push him away with her other arm even though it was still in his grip. Malfoy held her arms tighter, cutting off the circulation to her hands.
"Stop fighting me, Granger. There's no use for it." He slid the small object onto her ring finger of her left hand. Realizing what it was, she tried to jerk her hand away, but it was too late.
The ring was large and antique, and breathtakingly beautiful. A large green emerald sat in the middle of a cluster of small diamonds set in a thin platinum band, catching the little amount of light there was coming from the window and reflecting it onto her hand.
The look she gave it was one of pure contempt. It was clear she didn't like it. He had known it was a bit much for her tastes, but thanks to time restraints it wasn't like he'd had time to visit the jewelry shops anyway. That would have raised suspicions, for one, and he was sure it was fate's doing that he had found the ring, and he was not one to ignore things like that. She met his eyes and mouthed, "What is the meaning of this?"
He traced his finger lightly over the ring and flipping over her hand, traced the veins in her palm. She closed her hand into a tight little fist and he let her, going back to the ring.
"The meaning of this ring is that you are mine, Hermione," he said in a cold, controlled voice. She started and stared at his nonchalant use of her first name. "The Room of Requirement is such an interesting, helpful place. I found so many ancient, helpful books there. I found a few spells I put on that ring for…protection. You may not have any intimate or sexual contact with any man other than myself or anyone I have granted permission to touch you."
He noticed how her skin drained of all color at this, and cupping her cheek, said, "You misunderstand me. I won't be sharing you with anyone else. I don't take kindly to sharing. What's mine is mine."
She tried to bite his hand. He held her down by the throat. Terrified, she struggled anew, but he squeezed hard, and she froze. He released pressure slowly.
"If you try and have relations with somebody else you won't find it so easy, and I will know. With this ring, I'll know your exact location and who you're with."
Outraged, she shook her head, her lips spewing silent expletives. That furious spark in her eye, that bend in her brows, that curl of her lip…enchanting.
"Listen carefully, Granger. You may not tell anyone what has happened here or anything else I've told you or done to you today or since the start of term. You may not speak of it, write of it, or use any other means of communication to try to tell someone about this. I'll know if you try. Understand?"
He lifted the Silencio and immediately she spat on his cheek.
"How dare you think you can control me? You have no say at all over what I do! I don't want this, any of it. I am not yours to own." She moved to yank the ring off her finger but he stopped her, a curious smile on his lips.
Wiping the spittle off his skin, he said calmly, "Another thing I forgot to mention. Only I may take the ring off." He could see the gears turning in her head, could see her eyes flitting up to the books around them. "There's no other way, little bird."
She didn't listen, grasping the ring in her finger and desperately attempting to pull it off. It didn't budge. She looked up at him then, her eyes both pleading and furious.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
Carefully, he stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes. At that proximity, he could see all the fine detail in her eyes. Crystalline tears hung wet on the tips of her lashes, ready to drop at any second. Her pupils had shrunk.
"You're the only girl in the bloody school who has brains enough to compete with me for best in our year."
"Don't twist it," she cut in angrily, "all these years it was you who could hardly catch up, even now. You don't deserve this position and you know it!"
"The fact of the matter is that the position is mine, and if I truly didn't deserve it, it would have been taken from me months ago."
She opened her mouth for a vicious rebuttal but he covered it with his palm.
"You're unlike anyone I've ever known. No other is as intelligent, nor fierce as you. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on. Have you ever read any of those fairytale books as a child?" he didn't wait for her to answer. "The dragons always hoard gold and jewels, treasures and princesses. Well, pet, you're my princess," he leaned in closer still, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke. She frowned and shut her eyes, turning her head. Still trapped in his grip, her hands curled into fists. "My parents would have me marry some Pureblood girl I barely know or don't like. Why bother, when I've got the best witch in this whole damned school in my grasp?"
His hands cupped her breasts again, squeezing firmly. She gave a clipped gasp and tried to shove his hands off of herself.
"Don't!"
"You're so innocent," he whispered huskily, trailing his hand up her neck to cup her jaw. He kissed her again, softly this time. "Worth more than any treasure."
Her mind couldn't grasp what was happening. This was too much. First the awful dance, then Cormac, now Malfoy again? His words were barely registering in her mind anymore. After the ring had been forced onto her finger she'd felt herself slipping into shock. After everything that had happened tonight, she was almost at her wit's end.
She needed out. She couldn't handle this, not now. Escape came first. She would find a place to hide and then process this later.
Draco couldn't take it anymore and kissed her hard, ravaging her lips with his own. She stilled beneath him, not reacting.
He forced his tongue into her mouth again, and she forced down the bile that rose up to her throat. She needed to get away—now. His erection was pressed against her lower body, hard and unforgiving, making her skin crawl. He grabbed her arms and restrained them again over her head, he slid his arms to her body and ran them down along her stomach, gathering her skirt to push it out of the way. Hermione fought him in this, but eventually, he had got it all out of the way and had bared her legs.
"So lovely," he whispered, his hands on her hips, exploring her soft skin, the heat between her thighs. He touched her through her underwear, and Hermione jerked in fear, her face drained of color.
"Do-!" He covered her mouth with his palm, his other hand still touching her between her legs. Hermione squirmed, trying to avoid his probing touch, humiliated tears swimming in her eyes.
His breathing was uneven as he pulled back up to kiss her. He buried his head in her breasts, one hand still at her lower body, the other focused in exposing her breasts, pulling down at her neckline.
"NO!" she screamed, managing to free one hand from its restraint. The other followed immediately after, and using all her strength she pushed him off her as hard as she could. He went sprawling to the floor. Hermione scrambled off the window seat, heart racing, looking for her wand. She was searching as quickly as she could, but he was getting back up, snarling and she saw her wand in his pocket.
"Give me my wand," she hissed wildly, reaching for it.
He tucked it into his jacket.
"I didn't want this, either."
Perplexed, caught in surprise by his words, she stopped. "What do you mean?"
"I wanted so much to keep hating you as I did before. The first time I kissed you it meant hardly anything, it was nothing more than a morbid impulse." He advanced slowly, forcing her to continue edging backward, feeling her path with her hands.
She couldn't look away from his eyes. All this had to be a dream, it was so absurd.
"By the second kiss you'd already infected me," he said bitterly.
"Infected?"
"I don't mind as much, now." He gave her a grim smile. "I should have known this years ago, but I suppose in my prejudice I've been willfully blind."
Her expression was of utter disbelief. "You've been ignorant as well as blind if you still don't understand that my feelings are the exact opposite of yours!"
"Oh, I understand completely," he said.
"Then why ignore it?"
"Because it doesn't suit me."
Hermione's blood ran cold.
A sob welled up in her throat—she stifled it and ran, not bothering to pick up her skirt in her haste. The fabric flowed behind her and he grabbed for it, barely grasping the material before it slipped out of his reach.
What had gone wrong, and how? Had this really been her fault, as he'd said? She tried to think of how she might have caused this and failed. She had never asked him to kiss her or do any of this. He'd always been arrogant and demanding, but as bad as his behavior was before, he'd never shown the level of absolute lunacy he was showing now. Had he been hiding this part of himself all this time? Or had his self proclaimed obsession warped his mind?
One thing was certain: she had to get help. The biggest mistake she had ever made was not reporting him directly after the first assault. It was time to rectify that before it was too late. To hell with her plan. She would find McGonagall and tell her everything tonight.
It already is too late, a voice whispered to her. You're wearing his ring. He said it will prevent you from telling anyone.
Hermione could only hope he had said that as a means to frighten her into silence.
The exit was drawing near. Hermione went for it as fast as she could.
Hot on her trail, Draco swore, looking around. He had been so close and then she'd gone and ducked somewhere and he'd lost her. He strained his ears and listened close.
He could hear her bare feet against the old wood flooring, scurrying father away. He followed the sounds immediately.
She was trying to breathe as quietly as possible, only that was exceptionally hard because of how frightened she was.
Stop being such a bloody coward. Are you a Gryffindor or not? A shrewd voice in the back of her mind asked.
She ignored it. She had every right to be scared right now. Everything she'd gone through the whole day was crashing down on her, and she felt sick. She had to get out of there.
Moving as quickly as a snitch she silently made her way through the maze of books, pausing every now and then when she would hear a strange sound somewhere behind her.
It's probably a mouse, and nothing else, she said to herself. If it were Malfoy the sound would have been louder. She sharpened her gaze and looked around carefully. Where did he go?
She hoped to the Gods he'd gone already.
There they were, the doors that would lead to her safety. Hermione had no clue how much time had passed since she'd come here. Perhaps the ball was over by now and the students would be out in the corridors, heading back to their dormitories. If that was the case, then she would be safe.
She ran the last few feet to the doors, almost tripping over her gown in her haste.
She turned the doorknob but the door didn't open. She tried the other.
"Alohamora!" she whispered, and to her immense relief, they opened just a fraction. She began to push them open faster and got a peek of the corridor—empty.
Footsteps behind her. She heard his furious voice say something quickly. The doors slammed in her face.
No no no no!
She jumped when he grabbed her by the hips and turned her around to face him. She raised her bent arm to strike him in the face with her elbow. He dodged it and restrained her arm. Hermione struggled to be let free.
"Having trouble, love?" he whispered.
"Give me my wand, Malfoy, and let me out. And take this bloody ring off me this instant," she snarled.
"As you wish, Granger. But you're keeping the ring. It's rude to give back a gift, you know."
He unlocked the door and she stepped out quickly, looking around her once. There was still nobody around. She held out her hand for her wand.
"No goodnight kiss?" he asked, pretending to be upset.
Hermione struck at his chest, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "No. Never. You're a monster, Malfoy. I hope you rot in Azkaban once you're expelled. I'll make sure of it!"
Draco laughed and pressed her wand into her palm. His voice turned threatening. "If you tell anyone what happened tonight you'll be sorry."
Without waiting for her reply he walked off. Seizing her chance, Hermione turned her wand on him and prepared to utter a curse.
"There's no use trying to hex me or anything, Granger. The ring prevents that as well." Hermione didn't believe him, but when her Stupefy glanced off his back she took a step back in shock, and then sent another, and produced the same result. By that time she was livid and about ready to run after him and demand to know what he'd done when he turned and gave her a wink. Clutching her wand, Hermione instantly decided against it.
He wanted me to follow.
"Goodnight, little bird," his voice echoed back to her, and by the time she looked up, he had gone.
Suddenly alone in the dark corridor, Hermione wanted to disappear. Her skin still crawled with the ghost of Malfoy's touches. She wanted the floor to swallow her and take her somewhere else. Luckily the Christmas holiday started tomorrow, and she would be going to the Burrow with Harry and Ron.
Thinking fast, she hurried downstairs and tried to find McGonagall. There were a few students leaving early, talking amongst each other. They didn't even notice her as she entered the otherwise empty corridor. She took a peek inside the Great Hall and located McGonagall at the far end, speaking to Dumbledore and Hagrid by a Christmas tree. She debated going in and asking to speak to her in private but looked down at herself, saw her now-wrinkled dress, her disheveled hair, felt the dried tears on her face and the tenderness of her lips.
She looked like she had been attacked. The thought made her stomach drop.
I was attacked.
Again she felt the sudden urge to clean herself, as if that would clean her memories, too. The M on her arm was still visible now that Malfoy had taken the concealment charm off. She felt violated, to think he had done that to her and made sure she hadn't known until he wanted her to. The thought made her want to vomit—what else had he done that she didn't know about?
An idea struck. She ducked into an alcove and cast a Disillusionment charm over herself to stay mostly invisible and hidden. She didn't know where Draco had gone after he had left her outside the library. Suppose he was still in the corridors now? Or in their dorm? Either way, she would have to be stealthy.
She made it to the dorm and into her room undisturbed, her heart pounding all the way there. She shut her door and locked it, tore through her schoolbag and found her quill and spare parchment, and not wanting to leave the safety of her room and go out into the common room to sit at the worktable, she inked her quill and addressed the note to Professor McGonagall.
So far so good. Her hands were shaking so her writing wasn't neat as it usually was, but that didn't matter. Malfoy's words danced around in her head. She tried to doubt them.
She tried to write, 'Draco Malfoy has assaulted me."
She got as far as his name, and then her hand refused to keep going. Her insides twisted. She tried again.
Again, she got as far as 'Draco Malfoy' before her hand froze again. She shook her head, tried different variations, tried writing the words inside circles and drawing arrows to guide the reader into reading them in the right order, tried a different language, even, but it all led to the same result.
She flung her quill angrily to the other side of her room, and in the process knocked over her inkwell. Ink spilled over the floor, a small black lake forming by her foot.
Hermione held her face in her hands, willing herself not to cry, and tried to say it out loud.
"Draco Malfoy—"
Now her tongue locked up and refused to form the next words.
"He—"
He assaulted me. He kissed me against my will. He threatened me.
"Malfoy—"
She gave up, panting, a headache forming at her right temple.
He'd told the truth, then. She had thought it was a lie to frighten her.
Despair filled her again. What would she do about the ring? There was no way in hell she could go around anywhere with it on. It would draw attention, and even worse, it would allow Malfoy to think he'd won. She had to get Malfoy to take it off, but when? They left for the Burrow the next morning so she'd have to do it tonight.
The prospect of sneaking into his chambers was terrifying, but she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, calming her mind. Who was Malfoy to think she was nothing better than a possession? Who was he to claim her as his without her consent? An unexpected shudder ran through her, and goosebumps rose up on her skin. She fingered her wand, stood up and vanished the ink spill from the floor.
He had not won. He should not have told her about the spells on the ring. She would take it off as soon as she could, and destroy it, and flee the common room before he woke up and realized what she had done. She wasn't going without a fight.