I own nothing. Having to say this so often is a little depressing. Only the plot is mine, if that even means anything.
Chapter Nineteen: Christmas
"You reject my advances and desperate pleas
I won't let you let me down so easily,
So easily..."
I Will Possess Your Heart-Death Cab For Cutie
"That was a little harsh, don't you think?" Blaise asked.
Draco turned away from the window. By grace of being the only room in the Manor that Hermione was not allowed access to, it was currently the only room that had its windows uncovered.
"It's best for her to learn as soon as possible what she can and cannot do as my wife," he said. "She's always been stubborn and these events won't make her more compliant by any means. The faster she accepts this the better."
"By the looks of it that's going to take a long time, mate," Blaise said.
Draco let out an impatient breath. "I don't care as long as she's mine."
"Alright," Blaise said, eyeing his friend warily. "So what are you planning on doing with her, then? Just keep her in here for the rest of your lives?"
"Of course not," Draco scoffed. "I've other estates across Europe; we'll move around from time to time. The grounds for each are large enough that she can explore to her heart's content. I've rare libraries that would satisfy that insatiable curiosity of hers, and if she ever requires anything else I'll acquire it for her. And of course, each estate has plenty of beds…" he added, flashing his teeth.
Blaise hesitated before asking.
"Are you going to impregnate her soon?"
Draco shook his head. "Not so soon. I've only just gotten her, haven't I? I want some time to enjoy her before a little brat comes up and takes up too much of our time. I'm thinking I won't leave her with child for a few years."
"Seems fair," Blaise shrugged, feeling so relieved he almost laughed. That would give her plenty of time to escape. Draco stood, looking pensive.
"Actually," he began, "There is one thing I want to make sure of..."
Hermione had been trying to pull apart the drapes for several minutes to no avail. Her hands ached; grasping the fabric so tightly though they wouldn't budge had left her with shaking fingers and strained muscles.
Why? Why wouldn't he want me to see what's outside? she asked herself desperately.
Deciding to move on, she crept along the hall silently. The marble flooring sent a cold shock through her feet with each step she took; her skin was raised in gooseflesh. Malfoy and Zabini had withdrawn to Malfoy's study-she had gleaned this information from Bogg, who had tracked her down a while ago, very upset that she had not touched the rest of her food. The poor creature had been beside itself with misery, banging its head on the wall and knocking himself in the head quite violently with anything he could reach until Hermione relented and ate a bit of chicken before managing to run off again. It hadn't occurred to her until now, but suppose Malfoy had poisoned the food or the water she had drank? A cold sweat broke over her and she cursed herself for not thinking this earlier.
Stupid! She thought to herself.
How large was this place? She had been walking and walking, and there was no end to the number of halls she had passed through. Countless doors loomed above her, enticing her to open them. At first, she had stayed far away from them, afraid of what-or who-those rooms could contain. But now, as the house stretched on and her curiosity grew she made up her mind to take her exploration to the next level.
The curious thing was that each door was exactly the same. Tall, heavy, made of a strong oak wood painted black with highly polished brass doorknob. There were no labels or markings anywhere indicating which room was which, she found herself wondering how Malfoy didn't get lost inside his own home.
But then, she supposed, he's probably lived here a while, and I shouldn't waste my time thinking about him.
That in itself was quite hard to do, contrary to her resolution, seeing as she was in his house, he had raped her, and perhaps the worst of all-she was his wife. He was everywhere, even if he was not with her at that moment, she could still smell his scent on her skin, though she frequently looked behind herself to reveal nothing, she kept hearing the faintest footsteps trailing along behind her. A shiver washed over her. She turned again, looking down the hall.
With only the artificial light to illuminate the place, (seeing as all the drapes were shut) there were shadows everywhere. The hall was sparsely decorated with a few paintings along the wall, only none of the inhabitants seemed to be present. She had been incredibly surprised to pass by a couple of famous muggle paintings that were incidentally, her favorite. They weren't prints, either. They were the actual paintings, and her mind had begun to wonder if he had stolen them or actually bought them.
At present, she had taken another step when she invariably knew someone was following her. It wasn't fear that made her stop and turn around. It was anger.
"I know you're there," she called, fists clenched, bracing herself for the sight of her captor.
"Don't curse me, alright?"
As she watched, Blaise appeared with a flourish of his wand, ending his Disillusionment spell.
"You're still here?" She narrowed her eyes.
"I was hoping to speak with you before I left," he said.
"Where's Malfoy?" she asked.
He raised his brow. "Oh, you care where he is, now, do you?"
Hermione blushed. "I couldn't care less about him. I hate him. I just want to know where he is so I won't run into him."
"He's on the other side of the Manor, Granger. No need to worry." She held the sheet more tightly to herself and backed away.
"How do you find married life?" he asked.
"I would rather be dead," she said angrily. "You know I didn't want this."
"I remember." He looked uncomfortable, and strangely, Hermione found small comfort in that.
Blaise's demeanor changed suddenly. Something about his eyes was off.
"Would you like to be shared between Draco and I?"
She cringed again. "Gods, no!"
"Why not try?" he asked, advancing towards her. "You might like it."
Something is wrong here.
"Get away from me," she hissed, her voice shaking. He didn't listen. Hermione walked backwards, not wanting to let him out of her sight. He seemed to have made up his mind about something and advanced faster. Her back met the wall, but just as he grabbed her she found a doorknob and twisted it and the two fell into the room.
"No!" she cried, struggling to crawl away. "Get off me!"
"Don't fret, cher," he whispered restraining her flailing fists. He knelt over her hips, knees on either side of her body, and leant in close. "I could make it pleasant for you. I don't like hurting my partners in bed unless they like it that way, which I'm sure you don't."
"I don't like it either way when I'm being forced!" she retorted, and kneed him in the groin. With a howl of pain he rolled off her, clutching himself as she fled the room, only to collide into Malfoy's hard chest. Before she could escape again he had gotten hold of her and gripped her shoulders tightly, leaning down to look into her eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly, but there was anger in his eyes. "Are you hurt?"
She said nothing. Just him touching her again made the memories of that night come flooding back and made her remember the pain she had gone through, the things he had done to her. Her stomach plummeted to her feet and her skin turned to ice as she attempted to fight him off. He growled at her resistance and shook her roughly.
"Did he touch you?" he demanded.
She shook her head, wincing as his grip on her wrists tightened. Malfoy pulled her into the room where Blaise had regained composure, somewhat. Malfoy still had a firm grip on her, she tried yanking her arm out of his grip but he would only pull her back to his chest quite roughly.
"You didn't hurt her?" he asked Blaise.
"Of course not." Blaise sounded almost offended.
Hermione was confused. What was going on?
"What the fuck, Draco? You Imperiused me?"
"Did she respond in any way?"
"Just like she probably responded to you," Blaise said angrily. "Thanks for the warning, you ass."
"What the hell is going on?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing," Draco said stiffly, and he grabbed her arm and nodded to Blaise.
"Goodbye, Blaise."
He steered Hermione from the room. Hermione looked back, but Blaise had already turned his back and was leaving.
Draco, meanwhile, was still pulling her along. Hermione tried freeing herself of his relentless grip.
"Let me go! Let me go!" she shouted as they walked towards and unknown destination. "Tell me what's going on!"
"It's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about, my love," he replied, pulling her along. It didn't take long before they had come upon a door much larger than the rest; its brass doorknob was much more ornate than the ones on the others. Gently, Malfoy pushed her to it.
"Open it," he said.
Hermione twisted out of his grasp at last and turned to face him. "What for?"
"Just do it," he said impatiently. The threatening flash had passed through his gaze quickly but she had not missed it. With his heavy hands on her shoulders, she reached out and opened the door.
Inside was the largest and most beautiful library she had ever come across, and it must be noted that Hermione had been to quite a number of libraries. It was everything she could ever wish for inside one room. Tall bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, rows upon rows of bookshelves, spiraling staircases led to higher floors, magnificent fires roared away in their respective fireplaces where plush carpets and blankets and pillows lay tossed about in the most inviting way, as though beckoning her to curl up between them with one of the many rare books the library held. She detected several cozy little window nooks; half of which beheld stained glass windows, the other half must have had regular windows, but had been covered by expensive drapery. It was more wonderful than the Hogwarts library, which, for her, was saying something.
He watched her as she took it all in. Her eyes had widened to a comedic size, her mouth had remained disappointingly shut, but her body language said all he needed to know. She loved it. He grinned, rubbing little circles into her arms with his thumbs.
"It's yours," he whispered. She shivered as his cool breath washed over her ear, making a few strands of her hair flutter.
"I don't want anything from you," she said angrily. "Nothing you do now can ever take back what you've already done to me."
"I'm aware of that, pet. Nevertheless, it's yours. Happy Christmas." He cupped the back of her neck with one hand and with the other placed on the small of her back; he pulled the reluctant girl in for a kiss. She endured the kiss, not really feeling it since her thoughts where elsewhere.
It's Christmas. She shouldn't have been so surprised, the Christmas ball had just been a few days ago, and everyone would be on holiday now, wouldn't they? And now it was Christmas.
Tears came to her eyes. Harry and Ron were somewhere out there, alone, hunting for those Horcruxes. Did they even know it was Christmas? And what about the Weaselys? She fervently hoped they were alright. As for her own parents-she hoped they had had a nice Christmas, safe in Australia as they were. Malfoy's voice came to her as though he were three floors beneath her.
"Why so still all of a sudden?" he asked teasingly, kissing her breasts.
Hermione blinked and jumped in surprise. She was lying down on the carpet in front of the fireplace. He was straddling her; nestling himself between her thighs. She was naked; the sheet she had been using to cover herself lay discarded a few feet away, entangled with his own clothing. She felt nauseous.
"Do you have any idea what it does to me when you walk around covered in nothing but my bed sheet?" he asked, sucking at her neck. As she tried to push him away she heard him cast a Contraceptive charm, pressing his palm against her lower abdomen.
"Please don't," she pleaded with growing panic, shoving at his chest as he dipped down to suck on her nipple. "Please! It still hurts!"
He ignored her, pushing into her as carelessly as he did on their first night. He let out a long moan as he did so, but upon hearing her pained cry he stilled for a moment, wiping her tears off her reddened cheeks. Despite her protests, he continued thrusting in and out of her, but more gently and slowly than before. She found she hated this. She would rather he do it as quickly as possible; with this sudden slowness the pain drove her half mad and added a sense of intimacy she didn't care for at all. It made her feel like she was a willing participant in the sex when she was anything but.
Once he had finished he had pulled a blanket over their bodies and wrapped an arm around the injured witch so she would not slip away while he slept. He fell asleep quite quickly, with a satisfied smile on his angelic face. For several minutes Hermione tried to pry his arms off of her to no use. He would simply tighten his hold around her. It seemed an age passed before she could feel herself begin to drift off into sleep, disgusted by the way his breath warmed her hair and face, the way his hand lay on her tummy. Just before she slipped into an uneasy slumber, she wondered if she would ever see her family again.
A/N:
Draco is a very very very jealous and possessive lover/husband/person in general. He wants to make sure Hermione isn't attracted to Blaise.
