How bloody much did she drink last night? That's what Hermione asked herself once her head had stopped pounding enough to think it. She recognized the dull thud accompanied as it was by the sour aftertaste of the fine, bitter red the Malfoys had served. It was a wine hangover.
She'd tossed off her blankets during the night and sweat had doused her and dried to a tacky finish. Had she also kicked off her gown? The length of fiery silk was nowhere in sight, but Topsy was a quick elf and she hadn't expected to see it.
A shower was the order for the day, and the knot between her shoulder blades eased as steam flowered around her. Her feet stretched to wakefulness at the cool ceramic under the pooling warm water. She stood there for a moment and imagined the water washing her clean as it streamed over her, sluicing away the dirty leers and unseen grit that had stayed with her through the night.
Once heat had seeped into her muscles she took up the soap and flannel, the powdery delicacy of violets blooming in her nose. That and scrubbing at her tender scalp refreshed her so her body did not ache to the point of nausea.
Topsy had left her an ivy dress today. It scooped down her chest almost as deeply as the gown, and flared around her knees, the sleeves hardly little caps on her shoulders. Hermione was painfully exposed, and searched the room for a robe or a cardigan, anything she could hug over her body, but turned up nothing before she knew she needed to go.
She'd become accustomed to Dolohov's mannerly mien during meals; he stood as she approached the table, smoothing a hand down his silvery green shirt and wishing her a goodmorning.
"Did you sleep well?"
His eyes glinted needle sharp and she blushed as she lowered herself to her chair. "Er, yes. Decently enough, I suppose." He lifted a black brow and she added, "I think I had too much wine last night."
A smile played at the corner of his mouth. "You passed out in my arms before we crossed the threshold of Malfoy Manor." The warmth underlying his statement lit up her cheeks again. "You looked so sweet when I tucked you in."
Uneasy tingles flurried down her spine. "I'm sorry?"
He studied her expression before returning to his meal. "Drink your water, kitten, you must be dehydrated."
Hermione spent the hours between meals sinking into a cushiony chair in the library. Since the night she'd learned of Ron's death, she'd avoided the longer seat in favor of one she could curl up on with no room for interlopers. It was a little obstacle should the Death Eater press his advantage, but it was something.
She gathered minimal obstructions around her, an armor of inconvenience. Topsy saw no reason not to give her a throw blanket to wrap around her shoulders, though the elf had strict orders on what the girl was allowed to wear. That exchange had nettled her. She'd had to spend an hour in the bath burying the desire to fling breakables at Dolohov's head.
"Topsy, I'm freezing here. Surely Dolohov doesn't want me to catch a cold?"
"Master told Topsy to only lay out the clothes Master chooses for Missy. Topsy isn't wanting to iron her feets, not even for Miss."
She'd inwardly roared and it took formidable strength to keep from hurling a pillow at the elf. "How am I supposed to keep warm then? Should I just- just drag around the duvet?"
Topsy had tapped a spindly finger against her mouth. "Topsy could give Missy a little blanket for the library."
"Oh, would you? Topsy, that would be perfect!"
While she kept it on her preferred chair, it was in the back of her mind to huddle in it should Dolohov cast suggestive leers her way. He had kept to his word, but the dry rush of sand sometimes flooded her ears with the reminder that he would inevitably touch her again. This polite distance would not last forever.
"What are you reading, kitten?"
And he appears. Hermione lowered the volume propped on her knees. "It's a treatise on the magnetic properties of potions ingredients and their impact on brewing."
His eyes sharpened. "By Alexander Creb? I remember that one; I read it the summer before my final year and old Sluggy thought I was brilliant when I mentioned iron-nickle could be used in a pinch to replace hematite in most minor love potions, though not in Amortentia."
Hermione paged to the table of contents to scan upcoming chapters. "I haven't gotten that far yet. But I imagine he would be fair impressed."
"Not even Riddle knew it." A shadow skirted the edges of his expression, but he blinked it away to refocus on her. "It is a good book. I would enjoy rereading it. Come." He slunk into the lounger and gestured her to him.
"I'm a fast reader; I could finish it tonight if you're wanting it."
His mouth set in a stern line and she could feel the command prepared on his tongue should she resist. She pressed the book to her chest and allowed him to cradle her in his lap. For some minutes he kept one arm circling her waist and the other aside, leaned back to gaze over her shoulder. When Hermione had just released the worry of being fondled to the wind, he brushed her hair over one shoulder, finger trailing on the sensitive skin of her neck. Her pulse lept as the scruff from his chin scraped her.
His chest thrummed with a hum of amusement. "Next page, kitten. Unless you are not finished with this one?" Dry fingers flicked the thick parchment to the next sheet. She forced her eyes to skim across the words at roughly her usual rate, but she could see the motion of her heart through gentle movements of her neckline. Her nerves sung to high sensitivity as Dolohov breathed a kiss against her throat. "This is pleasant, isn't it?" Her voice was stuck below the line of his lips as he nuzzled into her. "You smell heavenly."
A scream tried to scale its way up through her chest, but instead she croaked, "Please don't."
He rocked her hips back, releasing a hiss through clenched teeth at her plea. "Haven't I been kind, kitten? I've abstained from fucking you for weeks, letting you grow used to my touch. And you," he breathed hotly behind her ear, "have no idea how tempting you are. I have spilled myself to thoughts of your sweet cunt and pretty tears every night you've been under my roof, and it grows more difficult by the day. Would you rather I snap and take you at the breakfast table some morning? Or shall I continue slowly? Hmm?"
Hermione forced down the panicked cries and wiped away tears that refused to stop. She shook her head, wanting to deny all of it, wanting to go back to her chair and while away the ages behind leather bindings rather than in his arms.
"Oh, kitten, you know what your tears do to me." He plucked the book from her quaking hands and it disappeared from her narrow sight, then he spilled her onto her back and crawled above her, easing back her clinging curls, eyes filled with darkness that threatened to drown them both. "Sh, sh. Be a good girl. Let me touch you for a while; I won't take you yet."
A sob burbled between her lips and the predator above her moaned, pushing his hips between her thighs, skirt bunched over her stomach. Steel pressed to her core and his hands roamed her in horrifying worship.
"Beautiful, so beautiful, katyonok. Yes, my breakable girl." His mumblings grew increasingly incoherent as he rolled his hips against hers, and his lips frequently quieted to scorch her skin with kisses. He tugged and maneuvered until her small nipples spilled out of the immodest neckline, then he was sucking hard enough to arch her back. Her hands were nothing as they rained against him. He was latched to her, teeth gnashing that sensitive bud between them, and terrible heat coiled through her. He fisted her hair in line with the curve of her back and wrapped a hand around her throat, and sparks flew behind her eyelids as she prayed for it all to wash away.
As her mouth hung open, tongue poking between her lips, the spiral tightening within her burst into a shower of tingling pleasure. Tiny sounds echoed in her ears and she realized as she swam back to herself that it was her crying out what little she could as the Death Eater deprived her of life giving oxygen. His thrusts grew frantic before stuttering against her and he collapsed to press his mouth over hers.
"Good girl," he crooned between lavishing unwanted affection on her. "So good, kitten. My sweet girl." He hovered over her for long moments, fingers trailing softly as though to soothe the hurt from his teeth, traced their indents on her breasts where they were already blooming into deep red bruises. She began to worry that he would start again when a seething breath forced from him. "I am being summoned." The back of his knuckles trailed her cheek. "I will check in with you when I return, if you are not asleep."
She blinked up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes and nodded, something like relief stirring at the sight of his back accented by sharp shame in her gut.
a/n I'm pretty much caught up with everything, but writing more! So yeah.