Terrifié
Chapter Eleven [Gift]
Last Time:
She was feeling rather faint, and the fear was making her want to be sick. "You whore." He finally took his arm away from her neck and she stumbled a little, turning to face the wall, using it to support her. He stood a few steps back, watching her. "I said 'You whore'." He repeated himself for her benefit. "don't you even care, Hermione?" His use of her name felt like a dagger in Hermione's heart. She turned to face him, still leaning on the wall.
"You only told me what I already know, Master." TBC
***
She lay in her bed in the dark, soft breaths punctuating the silence close together; panicked breaths. She replayed the incident in her head over and over again. The arm against her throat. Whore. Repeat what he said. Master. Heart filled with fear, repulsion and shame. "When someone abuses you, you are an object for their pleasure. They treat you like you're worthless, and you feel worthless. Utterly worthless. You never stop loving him, you stop loving yourself. That is the terrible aftermath of abuse." The quote floated into her mind, she couldn't remember where she had heard it. She remembered the speaker's voice, quavering and tear-filled, so full of truth and pain, eloquent, soaring into the hearts of her audience, bringing tears to their eyes. Then that voice transformed into the raw emotion of a sob, being led away, hidden behind a curtain. Never to be heard again? The question hung in the air.
*** Draco paced the floor of his room like a caged animal. A fucking pissed animal. He sat on his bed, stood again abruptly, walked to the wall, leaned against it, turned and punched it. "Fuck!" He spit the word out, shaking his hand painfully. He felt so frustrated and bursting with indecision and confusion. What the fuck had he just done? Well, what the bitch had deserved, how dare she talk to him like that?! She was asking for it, saying those things. So why did he feel like such an ass? His mission to understand Hermione was not going as planned. So far he had succeeded in buying her, gaining her trust, betraying her, hurting her and scaring her. Good going, dumb-ass. He punched the wall again. And what more did he really know about her? A little about her situation at home, that she didn't like being a possession, that she was terrified of men, that she didn't like being a possession, that she had a biting wit. All things he could have easily deduced without any contact. Malfoy- 0 Granger- 1 Malfoy flopped onto his bed and put his hands over his face. What in the hell? He was trying, and NOT succeeding? This was not an acceptable occurrence. Damn, he'd know her by the end of the year. How much of her could there be to know? She would turn out to be just like the rest of them, empty and unworthy. But somehow that thought didn't comfort Draco as much as it usually did, and he fell asleep with an invading bitter feeling occupying his heart. Unwelcome.
***
Ron rolled over in bed so his face was away from the light spilling through the curtains of his bed, mumbling something incoherent. He was bloody exhausted. He had been spending so much time "tutoring" Esmé that he barely had time to work on his own studies, and frequently pulled overnighters on the day before a big essay was due, or a test. He was not getting much sleep. He pulled his blanket over his head and snuggled into his pillow, smiling.
Esmé was worth it.
He has just begun to drift off into a lovely dream of playing in the snow with her, in front of everyone, not having to hide their relationship, when one of the main reasons they DID have to poked his head around the curtain. And then pulled it open with a flourish, letting in a flood of light.
"Rise and shine, Ronniekins!" Harry called cheerfully, poking a lump in the bed which he assumed was Ron.
"Go 'way, Harry. 'M tired." Ron groaned.
"Yes, but remember what today is? We're having the big quidditch match today! So we were going to get up early and practice! C'mon Ron, we're against Slytherin. And they're deadly this year!" Harry pried the covers out of Ron's hands and pulled them off the bed.
"Bugger off, Harry! For the love of Merlin, what time is it? Give me back my blankies!" Ron whinged helplessly as Harry dragged him into a sitting position and threw a quidditch uniform at him. "Stop your whining you little prat, and go get into this. And brush your teeth, your breath is abominable." Harry tapped his foot to further display his impatience.
"Fine, ya dirty wanker." Ron grumbled, rushing into the bathroom as Harry raised a menacing slipper and took aim.
Within ten minutes they were headed toward the field in the chill morning dew, with their broomsticks under their arms.
***
Hermione saw the boys from the tower window, and wished them luck. She had been sitting, numb from the cold, for more hours than she could remember. She had woken from a hot, restless sleep in the middle of the night, and had climbed to the window to look at the stars and cool off. And she had watched as the stars faded and the sun rose with her forehead against the glass and a dazed expression on her face. But the sight of the boys moving across the grounds brought her quickly back to reality.
She hopped down from the windowsill gingerly, feeling acutely the ache in all her limbs upon impact with the cold stone floor. She walked stiffly to the bathroom and peered at her reflection. There was a large red blotch from where she had peeled her forehead off the glass. And unfortunately there were also faint blue marks on her throat from Draco's lesson of the previous night. She sighed and took her bottle of concealer from the cabinet, where it had been dormant for a little while. Her bruises from Don were fading, but now she was receiving new ones.
Although she was tired of endless bottles of concealer and struggling to find excuses for the occasional mark she missed, in a way she loved her bruises, cuts and scars. The blues and purples and reds that decorated her pale white body seemed almost pretty. And they relieved the solitude of being so utterly alone... they knew. They knew about her, and about Don, and about Draco. They told her story. And even if she had to cover them to stop them from revealing that story to others, it was comforting to know that they were there. Sharing the burden. A constant reminder of who she was.
***
At breakfast Hogwarts was a noisy place, because it seemed that, contradictory to popular belief, the students were morning people. Or perhaps more like derangedly hyper people suffering from lack of sleep. The Breakfast Rush was commonly acknowledged, after your shower and coffee when you sat and chatted and giggled with your friends. And then, at the beginning of your second class, or maybe the middle if you were lucky, when you started to droop. By the time lunch came around you were dragging about, yawning and blinking confusedly.
But right now the hall was a-bustle with people cheerily devouring croissants or eggs and sausage or whatever. Harry and Ron came in breathing hard and with frost on their shoulders, grins on their faces, and Hermione on their tail. "You know, you really shouldn't go out and practice like that unless you've had something to eat, or an energy bar or something. Your body is running on empty in the morning. It's dangerous with Quidditch, and Growing Young Boys. Bananas are good I've heard. But really, take me seriously here. And I bet you didn't drink any water beforehand either, did you? Did you know that the human body requires 8 glasses of water a day to replenish it's sources? It's a wonder you aren't dying from dehydration. Both of you look a little parched! Honestly, I..." Hermione paused to take a breath and Harry grabbed the golden chance to cut in.
"Listen Hermione, we're fine ok? We'll take some bananas out next time, and water bottles. Promise."
"Well, ok. Just don't forget. If you faint up there you've got a long way to fall." Hermione raised her eyebrows warningly as she sat down between the two of them, and poured herself a glass of juice. She glanced around the hall casually and froze as her eyes rested on Draco. She felt numbed from her exhaustion and the chill she had got last night, but a wave of cold still swept over her at the sight of him. She was too out of it to know what to think about last night, or what emotions she was feeling, except fear.
She was still watching as he looked up, feeling her eyes on him. He didn't smirk, or raise his eyebrows haughtily or anything. He seemed equally bewildered by the happenings of the previous night, and the dark circles marring the usually fair skin under his eyes indicated he hadn't had much sleep either. His expression was not the carefully blank one he so often presented her with, but an unguarded display of weariness and, perhaps guilt?
Hermione did not notice that her juice was pouring over the top of the glass until Ginny helpfully yelled, "MIONE! Your juice is spilling over!" With a start Hermione set the jug back on the table and looked in dismay at the juice which had flooded over the table and into her lap. The other Gryffindors chuckled sympathetically and Ginny handed her a napkin, but it was no use, she had to go change into other robes. She got up and left the Great Hall sighing. Wonderful. Another trip up the many stairs to her dorm. She was barely out the door when she heard footsteps pursuing her.
And of course she didn't really have to guess who they belonged to. She stopped and turned to face Malfoy.
"Master, are you in need of something?" She asked politely, curtsying.
"Yes I bloody well am, and don't call me Master." Draco grabbed her sleeve and led her into one of those deserted corridors that always seemed to be so handy when he needed them.
"But last night you-" Hermione was cut off as Draco momentarily stopped his pacing to interrupt.
"Forget last night. You see, I'msorryboutthatiwasajerkiknowfucki'mstupidandgodididn'tmeanto..." Draco was mumbling into his own chest, his blond head bowed.
"Umm Master, I didn't get anything after "last night". You are going to have to speak up."
"Don't call me master, I bloody said! I'm sorry about last night, ok? I was a fucking arse to act like that and I don't know what came over me. So I'm sorry." Draco looked up from the floor, a spark of hope in his eyes.
"Well, thanks I guess... Ma-Malfoy." Hermione stuttered, not knowing what to say. Last night had been normal... he had barely punished her at all for how out of line she had been. "I'm sorry too, for not obeying you, and for being rude."
"Well fuck Hermione, you don't have to obey me... Just call me Draco. Say Draco."
"Draco." She repeated after him softly, her voice almost a whisper.
"I don't want to be your master... I just...want..." Draco trailed off helplessly. He didn't know what he wanted. Hermione lifted the medallion hopefully, her eyes glistening with tears. He stepped closer, taking the medallion in his hands. But instead of taking it off her used it to gently pull her towards him and kiss her softly. His lips were coaxing, pleading. Please be mine. He felt her relax into the kiss, but knew instinctively he tasted defeat on her lips, not wilful submission. He pulled away. "I just... want you Hermione." He shrugged, trying to portray to her his feeling of absolute desire for her, transcending lust or infatuation. He wanted everything about her, her smile, her thoughts, her habits...
He watched as the glimmer that had been in her eye only seconds ago was abruptly gone. The windows to her soul were slammed shut, her eyes darkened with pain. She leaned into him, resting her head softly on his chest. Their arms drew around each other, his supporting her, hers trying to syphon what comfort and strength she could from his body into hers.
"Draco, just take me. Please. I'm yours. Consider me a gift. From Hermione to you. Do whatever you want to me. Let's just get it over with. Please. Please please please. I'm tired." Hermione closed her eyes, expecting any moment to be either thrown against the wall, beaten and otherwise abused. What she felt instead was the soft touch of Draco's hand against her cheek, turning her face up to his.
"Thank you. Slytherin is playing Gryffindor tomorrow. Be there. Root for me, ok?" Draco asked, smiling slightly. Hermione inhaled deeply, smelling his cologne that she had always secretly loved.
"Ok." She promised simply. "Are you going now?" She asked, seeming almost regretful. She suddenly felt safe in his arms, for a fleeting moment until she remember that he was just like Don.
"Yeah, we've got classes, remember Know-It-All?" Draco smirked and Hermione reached to kiss him goodbye.
"Hermione, don't ever kiss me unless you want it. Understand?" He said, seeming suddenly offended as he realized she was once again trying to appease him. She nodded and he gently let her go, brushing her cheek with his hand one last time before he strode off down the hall purposefully. Hermione touched one hand to her cheek and one to her lips. So, she had made herself into a gift to Draco Malfoy. What next? To her surprise, Hermione felt almost... eager, to see what would happen next.
She would be rooting for Draco at the game tomorrow.
TBC
***
Chapter Eleven [Gift]
Last Time:
She was feeling rather faint, and the fear was making her want to be sick. "You whore." He finally took his arm away from her neck and she stumbled a little, turning to face the wall, using it to support her. He stood a few steps back, watching her. "I said 'You whore'." He repeated himself for her benefit. "don't you even care, Hermione?" His use of her name felt like a dagger in Hermione's heart. She turned to face him, still leaning on the wall.
"You only told me what I already know, Master." TBC
***
She lay in her bed in the dark, soft breaths punctuating the silence close together; panicked breaths. She replayed the incident in her head over and over again. The arm against her throat. Whore. Repeat what he said. Master. Heart filled with fear, repulsion and shame. "When someone abuses you, you are an object for their pleasure. They treat you like you're worthless, and you feel worthless. Utterly worthless. You never stop loving him, you stop loving yourself. That is the terrible aftermath of abuse." The quote floated into her mind, she couldn't remember where she had heard it. She remembered the speaker's voice, quavering and tear-filled, so full of truth and pain, eloquent, soaring into the hearts of her audience, bringing tears to their eyes. Then that voice transformed into the raw emotion of a sob, being led away, hidden behind a curtain. Never to be heard again? The question hung in the air.
*** Draco paced the floor of his room like a caged animal. A fucking pissed animal. He sat on his bed, stood again abruptly, walked to the wall, leaned against it, turned and punched it. "Fuck!" He spit the word out, shaking his hand painfully. He felt so frustrated and bursting with indecision and confusion. What the fuck had he just done? Well, what the bitch had deserved, how dare she talk to him like that?! She was asking for it, saying those things. So why did he feel like such an ass? His mission to understand Hermione was not going as planned. So far he had succeeded in buying her, gaining her trust, betraying her, hurting her and scaring her. Good going, dumb-ass. He punched the wall again. And what more did he really know about her? A little about her situation at home, that she didn't like being a possession, that she was terrified of men, that she didn't like being a possession, that she had a biting wit. All things he could have easily deduced without any contact. Malfoy- 0 Granger- 1 Malfoy flopped onto his bed and put his hands over his face. What in the hell? He was trying, and NOT succeeding? This was not an acceptable occurrence. Damn, he'd know her by the end of the year. How much of her could there be to know? She would turn out to be just like the rest of them, empty and unworthy. But somehow that thought didn't comfort Draco as much as it usually did, and he fell asleep with an invading bitter feeling occupying his heart. Unwelcome.
***
Ron rolled over in bed so his face was away from the light spilling through the curtains of his bed, mumbling something incoherent. He was bloody exhausted. He had been spending so much time "tutoring" Esmé that he barely had time to work on his own studies, and frequently pulled overnighters on the day before a big essay was due, or a test. He was not getting much sleep. He pulled his blanket over his head and snuggled into his pillow, smiling.
Esmé was worth it.
He has just begun to drift off into a lovely dream of playing in the snow with her, in front of everyone, not having to hide their relationship, when one of the main reasons they DID have to poked his head around the curtain. And then pulled it open with a flourish, letting in a flood of light.
"Rise and shine, Ronniekins!" Harry called cheerfully, poking a lump in the bed which he assumed was Ron.
"Go 'way, Harry. 'M tired." Ron groaned.
"Yes, but remember what today is? We're having the big quidditch match today! So we were going to get up early and practice! C'mon Ron, we're against Slytherin. And they're deadly this year!" Harry pried the covers out of Ron's hands and pulled them off the bed.
"Bugger off, Harry! For the love of Merlin, what time is it? Give me back my blankies!" Ron whinged helplessly as Harry dragged him into a sitting position and threw a quidditch uniform at him. "Stop your whining you little prat, and go get into this. And brush your teeth, your breath is abominable." Harry tapped his foot to further display his impatience.
"Fine, ya dirty wanker." Ron grumbled, rushing into the bathroom as Harry raised a menacing slipper and took aim.
Within ten minutes they were headed toward the field in the chill morning dew, with their broomsticks under their arms.
***
Hermione saw the boys from the tower window, and wished them luck. She had been sitting, numb from the cold, for more hours than she could remember. She had woken from a hot, restless sleep in the middle of the night, and had climbed to the window to look at the stars and cool off. And she had watched as the stars faded and the sun rose with her forehead against the glass and a dazed expression on her face. But the sight of the boys moving across the grounds brought her quickly back to reality.
She hopped down from the windowsill gingerly, feeling acutely the ache in all her limbs upon impact with the cold stone floor. She walked stiffly to the bathroom and peered at her reflection. There was a large red blotch from where she had peeled her forehead off the glass. And unfortunately there were also faint blue marks on her throat from Draco's lesson of the previous night. She sighed and took her bottle of concealer from the cabinet, where it had been dormant for a little while. Her bruises from Don were fading, but now she was receiving new ones.
Although she was tired of endless bottles of concealer and struggling to find excuses for the occasional mark she missed, in a way she loved her bruises, cuts and scars. The blues and purples and reds that decorated her pale white body seemed almost pretty. And they relieved the solitude of being so utterly alone... they knew. They knew about her, and about Don, and about Draco. They told her story. And even if she had to cover them to stop them from revealing that story to others, it was comforting to know that they were there. Sharing the burden. A constant reminder of who she was.
***
At breakfast Hogwarts was a noisy place, because it seemed that, contradictory to popular belief, the students were morning people. Or perhaps more like derangedly hyper people suffering from lack of sleep. The Breakfast Rush was commonly acknowledged, after your shower and coffee when you sat and chatted and giggled with your friends. And then, at the beginning of your second class, or maybe the middle if you were lucky, when you started to droop. By the time lunch came around you were dragging about, yawning and blinking confusedly.
But right now the hall was a-bustle with people cheerily devouring croissants or eggs and sausage or whatever. Harry and Ron came in breathing hard and with frost on their shoulders, grins on their faces, and Hermione on their tail. "You know, you really shouldn't go out and practice like that unless you've had something to eat, or an energy bar or something. Your body is running on empty in the morning. It's dangerous with Quidditch, and Growing Young Boys. Bananas are good I've heard. But really, take me seriously here. And I bet you didn't drink any water beforehand either, did you? Did you know that the human body requires 8 glasses of water a day to replenish it's sources? It's a wonder you aren't dying from dehydration. Both of you look a little parched! Honestly, I..." Hermione paused to take a breath and Harry grabbed the golden chance to cut in.
"Listen Hermione, we're fine ok? We'll take some bananas out next time, and water bottles. Promise."
"Well, ok. Just don't forget. If you faint up there you've got a long way to fall." Hermione raised her eyebrows warningly as she sat down between the two of them, and poured herself a glass of juice. She glanced around the hall casually and froze as her eyes rested on Draco. She felt numbed from her exhaustion and the chill she had got last night, but a wave of cold still swept over her at the sight of him. She was too out of it to know what to think about last night, or what emotions she was feeling, except fear.
She was still watching as he looked up, feeling her eyes on him. He didn't smirk, or raise his eyebrows haughtily or anything. He seemed equally bewildered by the happenings of the previous night, and the dark circles marring the usually fair skin under his eyes indicated he hadn't had much sleep either. His expression was not the carefully blank one he so often presented her with, but an unguarded display of weariness and, perhaps guilt?
Hermione did not notice that her juice was pouring over the top of the glass until Ginny helpfully yelled, "MIONE! Your juice is spilling over!" With a start Hermione set the jug back on the table and looked in dismay at the juice which had flooded over the table and into her lap. The other Gryffindors chuckled sympathetically and Ginny handed her a napkin, but it was no use, she had to go change into other robes. She got up and left the Great Hall sighing. Wonderful. Another trip up the many stairs to her dorm. She was barely out the door when she heard footsteps pursuing her.
And of course she didn't really have to guess who they belonged to. She stopped and turned to face Malfoy.
"Master, are you in need of something?" She asked politely, curtsying.
"Yes I bloody well am, and don't call me Master." Draco grabbed her sleeve and led her into one of those deserted corridors that always seemed to be so handy when he needed them.
"But last night you-" Hermione was cut off as Draco momentarily stopped his pacing to interrupt.
"Forget last night. You see, I'msorryboutthatiwasajerkiknowfucki'mstupidandgodididn'tmeanto..." Draco was mumbling into his own chest, his blond head bowed.
"Umm Master, I didn't get anything after "last night". You are going to have to speak up."
"Don't call me master, I bloody said! I'm sorry about last night, ok? I was a fucking arse to act like that and I don't know what came over me. So I'm sorry." Draco looked up from the floor, a spark of hope in his eyes.
"Well, thanks I guess... Ma-Malfoy." Hermione stuttered, not knowing what to say. Last night had been normal... he had barely punished her at all for how out of line she had been. "I'm sorry too, for not obeying you, and for being rude."
"Well fuck Hermione, you don't have to obey me... Just call me Draco. Say Draco."
"Draco." She repeated after him softly, her voice almost a whisper.
"I don't want to be your master... I just...want..." Draco trailed off helplessly. He didn't know what he wanted. Hermione lifted the medallion hopefully, her eyes glistening with tears. He stepped closer, taking the medallion in his hands. But instead of taking it off her used it to gently pull her towards him and kiss her softly. His lips were coaxing, pleading. Please be mine. He felt her relax into the kiss, but knew instinctively he tasted defeat on her lips, not wilful submission. He pulled away. "I just... want you Hermione." He shrugged, trying to portray to her his feeling of absolute desire for her, transcending lust or infatuation. He wanted everything about her, her smile, her thoughts, her habits...
He watched as the glimmer that had been in her eye only seconds ago was abruptly gone. The windows to her soul were slammed shut, her eyes darkened with pain. She leaned into him, resting her head softly on his chest. Their arms drew around each other, his supporting her, hers trying to syphon what comfort and strength she could from his body into hers.
"Draco, just take me. Please. I'm yours. Consider me a gift. From Hermione to you. Do whatever you want to me. Let's just get it over with. Please. Please please please. I'm tired." Hermione closed her eyes, expecting any moment to be either thrown against the wall, beaten and otherwise abused. What she felt instead was the soft touch of Draco's hand against her cheek, turning her face up to his.
"Thank you. Slytherin is playing Gryffindor tomorrow. Be there. Root for me, ok?" Draco asked, smiling slightly. Hermione inhaled deeply, smelling his cologne that she had always secretly loved.
"Ok." She promised simply. "Are you going now?" She asked, seeming almost regretful. She suddenly felt safe in his arms, for a fleeting moment until she remember that he was just like Don.
"Yeah, we've got classes, remember Know-It-All?" Draco smirked and Hermione reached to kiss him goodbye.
"Hermione, don't ever kiss me unless you want it. Understand?" He said, seeming suddenly offended as he realized she was once again trying to appease him. She nodded and he gently let her go, brushing her cheek with his hand one last time before he strode off down the hall purposefully. Hermione touched one hand to her cheek and one to her lips. So, she had made herself into a gift to Draco Malfoy. What next? To her surprise, Hermione felt almost... eager, to see what would happen next.
She would be rooting for Draco at the game tomorrow.
TBC
***