EXTREMELY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT END OF THIS CHAPTER. READ IT.
I own nothing.
Chapitre Vingt- As You Wish
"Are you hurting the one you love?
And if heaven knows then who will stop
Are you hurting the one you love?
You said you got to heaven, but it wasn't enough."
Are You Hurting the One You Love?-Florence and the Machine
There were tears nestled in the corners of her eyes when she awoke. It almost hurt to blink-her eyes burned from the tears and she hastily blinked them away as the remnants of her dream began to fade away.
Harry, coming to her aid when she had been frightened and easing her into sleep. The night of the ball when he had carried her to her bed and had made her realize she loved him. The way he had told her he loved her so sweetly just before she fell into the clutches of the Sandman. What little sleep she had gotten had been full of memories of Harry, each wrenching and tearing at her heart as they played through her mind. The words from his letter came with a fresh wave of pain.
I failed him, she thought sadly. He tried to protect me and in the end I failed him.
Just as she finished that thought she felt a hand running gently through her hair and having been lost in her thoughts, flinched violently. Suddenly the mattress dipped and he was there in front of her, brushing the tears from her cheeks. His cold eyes were tinged with concern.
"Why the tears, little bird? Did you have a nightmare?"
"I'm still living it," she said softly, turning her head away from his hand.
"Don't be so dramatic," he chuckled. "It doesn't become you. It's not like your life is over."
At his harsh words she heaved herself out of the bed, sharp words taking form in her throat.
"I'll be as dramatic as I please! You've taken me from everything I've ever known, everyone I've ever loved and locked me up inside this damnable place. I'm correct in guessing that I won't be allowed contact with any of my friends or family from this point on, am I? I can't even finish my education! You've given me this atrocious ring which won't let me fight back! You've taken my freedom and have the stones to say my life isn't over? That I should do as you say? I'll let you know now that won't ever happen, you thrice accursed troll spawn, so just leave me alone."
It had come out so fast and so loaded with hate that she was left without breath but it made no matter. He was going to hear every bit of it, and every day if need be. For good measure she spat on him, shivering in satisfaction when her spittle landed on his cheek.
Malfoy wiped the offense off his skin calmly, never taking his eyes off hers. The look he was giving her now-back at Hogwarts it would have made anyone quake in their boots or run away, and in one memorable case, make someone burst into tears. But here was the furious little witch who never failed to captivate him, raising her chin at him and giving him The Look right back. He knew without a doubt that if she weren't wearing the ring in that moment, she would already have flown at him with her fists raised, magical powers be damned. The thought aroused him a little, but his anger clouded over it instantly.
"Get up," he ordered loudly, and her nostrils flared.
"I am not your slave."
"You're right," he said. "You are my wife, not my slave, and I expect you to act as such."
"I won't," she shook her head, stepping back. "I'd rather die than play out this sick fantasy of yours."
"Speak with care, sweetheart, I am losing my temper."
"I couldn't care less about your temper."
"Then you should learn to," he said, and raised his wand. "Imperio."
He approached her silently, and Hermione fought to back away although the curse prevented it. Then his voice was in her head.
Take the nightgown off.
Instantly her hands wrapped around her middle, then down to her thighs to grip at the hem of the gown. Hermione grit her teeth and willed herself to stop even as her hands began to pull upwards.
No.
She tried to frown but the curse kept her face neutral-even as he came to a stop in front of her, looking as angry as he'd been when she'd looked back to see him at the window after she'd escaped.
His voice came again, softer.
Do it or I will rip it off of you.
Moving mechanically, she obeyed, and deposited the slip of fabric onto the floor. Throughout the ordeal he made her keep eye contact with him and she stood shaking in the cold air as she was exposed to the cold. She wanted to cover herself with her hands but they remained still and ignorant to her thoughts at her sides. Mortification burned at her face.
"Oh, you want it back?" he asked innocently, staring at her body, at the angry blush spreading on her chest. "Sorry darling, you'll have to earn it."
Her fists clenched 'til her knuckles turned white but she could not say or do anything else.
He turned abruptly and walked to the door, opening it but not stepping out. Turning to face her, he called, "Will you obey if I take the spell off or will I have to make you come?" When she didn't move he sighed and turned away to hide a smile. She was still trying to fight off the curse. When would she learn?
They walked through several corridors and up a few flights of stairs. To chastise her further he made her walk in front of him, he avidly watched the unconscious sway of her hips-once or twice he couldn't help himself and would give her bum a light smack. Once she managed to break free of the curse long enough to turn around with an angered shout on her lips but just as quickly he'd gotten her back under control.
The door they came to at last was different from the rest. It was painted a dark, blood red and had a rather large peephole that reminded Hermione of the ones in doors at Muggle hotels. Malfoy pushed it open, seeing as it had no doorknob or handle. Absently, in the pleasant fog clouding her mind, Hermione guessed he had spelled the door to open to only his touch.
The room was spacious but dark. The only light that came through the stained glass window was very weak-small spots of colour adorned the walls opposite, where there was another door leading into a bathroom, most likely. A simple, yet comfortable looking four poster bed was tucked into one corner-there was no other furniture other than a chaise and a table beside the bed. A fireplace took up part of the far wall, but it was apparent it had not been used in some time.
Now released from his spells, she turned to him, an unspoken question in her eyes.
"You wanted to be left alone," he said simply. "So be it."
He pushed her into the room as she tried to turn back into the hall but in a fit of rage she began to shout and claw at him he had to settle for tying her to the bed.
"Let me go!" she shouted, struggling to kick at him from the end of the bed where he was fastening her ankle to its corresponding post.
"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts already?" he asked mockingly.
"When I said leave me alone, I meant set me free and never let me see your face again," she spoke through teeth clenched together.
"Ah, then perhaps next time it would do you better to be more specific," he said sarcastically. "But even then I wouldn't do it."
He stepped away from the bed, staring at her prone form.
"I'll be up later once you've calmed down to untie you. Bogg will bring you your meals, but from now on you are in solitary confinement. Until you're ready to obey and respect me you will be here. Perhaps I'll pay a visit every now and then, but don't count on it, little bird, for you've made me quite angry." Upon seeing her dubious expression he laughed. "Don't worry, love. By the end of the week you'll be craving some company. And I advise you to have reformed by then: we'll meet with Mother and Father on Sunday, and the Dark Lord expects you soon after." A shadow of concern passed over his face before he turned away, heading for the door. "It would be in your best interest to do everything I say."
The obscenities she shouted after him were silenced the moment he shut the door behind him. Out of curiosity he took a look through the peephole, only to find the girl still struggling against her bonds, stomach heaving with her screams. A twinge of regret made him almost change his mind- he didn't like having to shut her up in here, but damn her, she was determined to be difficult. There were other ways of getting her to behave, but while he wanted to break her, he didn't want to actually kill her. This was the gentlest punishment he could think of-and he had spent hours thinking up suitable punishments for Granger way before. This would be enough to subdue her for now-but it wouldn't do the job completely, knowing her.
And if it doesn't work? a quiet voice in the back of his mind popped up.
Then I take her out anyway to make the visits and she goes back in once they're over, he decided. Or maybe then it will be time to try something new.
Unease filled him upon thinking of their appointment with the Dark Lord. This was the part that worried him the most. He knew the Dark Lord's intentions were to find out what Potter and Weasely were up to, but how would he go about doing it? Would he torture it out of her? Or would he simply force her to drink Veritaserum? Or would it take something much worse?
He had been to many interrogation sessions with the Dark Lord. Most poor souls never got out alive, and the ones that did were beyond repair. He knew how headstrong Hermione could be-would she remain silent? Or would she talk? He had a sneaking suspicion she would say nothing, but at the same time he couldn't help but wonder what it would take to get her to speak.
Against his better judgement, he peered into the room again. At first glance she appeared to be asleep but she turned her head just as he'd looked. At least she'd stopped her struggling. Her limp body lay taut and shivering in the cold room. He could see the silhouette of her nipples.
I'll send her some blankets.
If he looked hard enough he could see the tears making their way down the sides of her face. He wanted to go and hold her.
It took some effort to turn away.
Wish I could let you out, my love, he thought to himself. But I'll not have you disrespecting your husband.
He turned away and headed for his study.
Hermione wasn't sure how much time had passed since Malfoy had left her, but he was back what seemed like a day later although she was positive it hadn't been. The door hadn't made any noise as it opened so she had startled when she turned her head to find him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, staring at her intently. She opened her mouth at once to yell but he waved his hand dismissively at her.
"Save your breath. Though it pains me to leave you like this I'll not let you out." He reached the bed with a few long strides and began to untie her. "Don't fight me, Hermione," he warned gravely as she began to kick at him. "It will only make things worse for you."
She narrowed her eyes at him but lowered her leg, and blushed fiercely as he gazed at her body, curling into herself once she had been completely untied.
"Don't be ashamed, pet," he said softly, rubbing her arm as she tried to hide her body from his view.
As if he'd shocked her with a thousand volts of electricity, she jerked away from his touch, a small whine escaping her lips. After she'd sat up she held out her palm in a pleading gesture for him to stay away. Draco reached for her anyway, enveloping her in his arms, holding her tightly as she tried to get away. Hermione screamed but he pressed his lips to hers, muffling the sound even though she tried to push him off. Ignoring her furious cries, he kissed her roughly, demandingly, as though he wanted to devour her and then all at once the kiss turned gentle. His lips caressed hers softly, he scattered kisses on her cheeks and nibbled on her bottom lip, his hands cupping her face close to his so she wouldn't pull away.
He could taste the 'no's' on her lips.
When he finally backed away and dropped his hands from her she launched herself to the other side of the room, covering herself as best as she could. She was looking at him in the way an animal caught in a trap would as it watches its hunter approach. Draco scrubbed a hand over his face.
"I'll have Bogg bring you some books from the library," he said, and left without another word.
As soon as he was gone Hermione dashed to the connected bathroom and ran herself a scalding shower. She couldn't stand to feel him on her any longer; it would have driven her mad. As the shower began to heat up the steam swirled around her, and she desperately ran her hands through her hair, panting.
I have to get out of here, she thought. I must.
But how? Another voice in her mind piped up. You got yourself locked up in here. What lies outside these rooms but more locked doors?
Without hesitation Hermione stepped into the hot blast of the shower and gasped loudly, fighting for breath as the water came into contact with her body, searing her skin. She stood there, braving the brunt of the hot onslaught for several minutes. She looked around the shower and found a bar of soap and not caring for shampoo, began to clean herself. A washcloth appeared and she grabbed it quickly, rubbing it roughly over her skin, watching as the lather thickened and spread over her body. She had to be cleaner. Spotless.
Once she had finished two fluffy towels appeared on the rack opposite the tub and grateful to have something to cover herself with, she snatched them down quickly and wrapped her hair in one and her body in the other. She was surprised to find upon walking back into the room that the fire had been lit and the bed had been remade, with fresh, warm sheets. A tray of food laid on the bed, with a pitcher of water on the table. A small stack of books had been set up on the table, but she ignored them, enticing as they looked. Still suspicious of the food, she took only a roll and the pitcher with her, and sat down in front of the fire. Setting these things carefully to the side she unwrapped her hair and slowly patted it dry with the towel, staring into the bright heat of the fire.
Up until then she had forgotten Malfoy was bringing her to the Malfoy Manor to see his parents. Of this visit she wasn't too afraid-she had met them both before and while both were intimidating to a certain level, she found she feared Lucius more than his wife. No, it was the meeting with Voldemort she was most concerned about. While she knew he was the most dangerous wizard of all and that she might not come out unscathed from her own interrogation, she found that her pity outweighed her fear for the man-if he could still be called a man. He had grown up without love, without friends and what family he had left he had obliterated in his greed for power. She did fear him-to an extent-but she knew in the end he must die.
But what about Harry? Would he have to die as well? She asked herself.
She prayed he wouldn't. As much as he refused to believe it sometimes, they all knew everyone needed him. They needed someone to believe in now that Dumbledore was gone and that the war had begun. And if she ever got out of this place alive, he would be the first person she would go to. A tear slid down her cheek. It had only been a few days, but already she missed him terribly. She hoped that wherever he and Ron were, they were safe and warm, but more than anything else she wished she was there with them.
When Hermione awoke the next morning she found herself in the bed, her stomach growling loudly. The sheets were snugly tucked around her, the tray was gone but there was a new one on the table with a steaming breakfast on it. She got up slowly, blinking away the fog in her eyes. It was a relief to wake on her own, without panicking upon feeling his arms wrapped around her or noticing the intimate way he'd tuck her body into his as they slept. A glance toward the window didn't help much in discerning what time of day it was. The light was no stronger or weaker than it had been the day before. Brushing a curl from her eye, she made her way to the tray on the table. There was a note tucked underneath a bowl of porridge, and she picked it up, brows furrowed.
Bogg is terribly upset-he seems to think you find his food repulsive. I advise you to drop your scheme of starvation and eat up else I shall be forced to feed you myself and you wouldn't want that, would you? I might end up helping myself to that exquisite body of yours, and while that's going to happen anyway, I imagine you'd want to stave it off as long as possible.
I'll come up to see you in the evening.
-D
In one swift movement she had crumpled the note into a ball and hurled it into the embers of the fire, watching with satisfaction as the paper caught fire and began to burn.
Bastard. How dare he think he can threaten me? He's probably slipped something into the food, that's why he's so eager for me to eat. And with that final thought, she hurled the tray and its contents into the fire as well. It had only been burning for a few minutes when it disappeared-likely back to the kitchens. She hoped Bogg wouldn't be punished for it. She was sorry for hurting Bogg's feelings, seeing as he had been good to her. It wasn't his fault he had been born to serve Malfoy.
A spot of color caught her and she glanced at the piled books on the table. They looked familiar…too familiar. She edged towards them and picked them up, one by one. With a growing sense of horror, she realized the books were her own. The last one fell out of her hands and back onto the table with a thud. The covers stared up at her: Pride and Prejudice, Anna Karenina, Frankenstein, Jane Eyre, The Secret Garden, and the Diary of Anne Frank. All her own favorite books. Ice ran through her veins as she looked at them, eyes wide. Quickly, to make sure, she opened each to the first page, and was horrified to see her own name writ there.
How did he get them? How did he know?
He had said nothing of the books in the note. Perhaps he would tell her later. She had to know, she had to. How had he found her Muggle home? She thanked the gods above that she had thought to relocate her parents to Australia over the summer. The house had been left alone, though all their things were still there she had placed wards around the area to prevent anyone from coming near her home. So how had he found it? More importantly, had Malfoy been alone? Or had Zabini and other Death Eaters gone with them? Vomit rose in her throat. He had been in her room; he must have been in there for a while to find them, because even though her house was always neat and tidy, she had a habit of leaving her books in random places. And to think he had found all of her favorites…
And if he took more than just my books? She asked herself. But thinking on it more, she began to doubt it. Obviously he wouldn't have brought her Muggle clothing, seeing as he had had Bogg insist on her wearing that dress on her first day in his house. And what else would he have brought, anyway? Shoes? No, she decided. The books were probably the only thing he took.
It was later in the evening that Draco entered the room to find the girl sitting on top of the table, eating a peach that had been served with her dinner. She was still clad in one of the towels he had sent up earlier for lack of other clothing and her hair fanned out over her shoulders in a tousled heap. He smiled and advanced towards her. She, who had not seen or heard him enter, jumped when she found him standing beside her. Before she could speak he reached out slowly and ran his thumb over her bottom lip gently, where the fruit's juice shone. She swallowed hard, looking at him with contemptuous eyes.
"Don't mind me," he said, removing his hand, only to lick at his thumb. "Help yourself."
Despite his order she slammed the peach down back onto the tray in the empty soup bowl. She felt guilty and stupid for eating the food, but it had been quite a while since she had eaten a decent meal. Though she had tried to stick to eating solely the rolls, it simply was not enough to assuage her appetite, and so she had caved and ate everything.
"How did you get my books?"
Malfoy nodded. He had been waiting for her to ask. "After my failed attempt to kidnap you after the Masquerade Ball I searched up your Muggle home out of...curiosity. The Dark Lord assigned a few other Death Eaters to accompany me in case we came across your parents. There was no one in the house when we broke through the wards. The house was alone; there were still dishes in the sink so we assumed they had gone to work. Some of the men wanted to wait them out so we could take them anyway but the Dark Lord needed them for another event that was to take place that day. And besides," he tipped his head, "I had a feeling you were already one step ahead of us all, little witch." Though her face remained neutral, he saw how all the blood drained from her face and he smirked. "In that case, darling wife, I should advise you to hide that knowledge as best as you can if you want your parents to remain hidden."
"Why are you helping me?" she asked suspiciously.
He shrugged. "I don't want to see you get hurt."
She scoffed. "That's bollocks."
He narrowed his eyes at her and before she could move away he had forced himself between her knees and held her wrists in his hands. He ignored her protests and leaned forward staring angrily into her frightened eyes.
"If I liked hurting you, pet, then I would have hunted your parents down that day. I could have killed Weasley last time I saw him, since the Dark Lord insists on one but himself can kill Potter. I could have whipped you or Crucio'ed you in order to get you to behave instead of locking you in this room like a little Rapunzel. There are many, many ways of getting you to obey but I chose this one because I care about you, Hermione." She twitched at his use of her given name-he could tell exactly what she was thinking.
"I'll call you by your name as much as I like. You might as well get used to it and start calling me by mine. Say it."
"No," she snarled. "You don't get to call me that, not after everything you've done. I haven't given you the right."
Angry, he squeezed her wrists in his strong hands, making her cry out in pain. His arousal rubbed against her core and he groaned, grinding his hips into hers.
"Say it, Hermione!"
"No!"
A vicious oath escaped him and he and let her go, and without missing a beat she slid off the table and ran for the door but it wouldn't open. He locked the bathroom door just as she ran to it, and helpless, she glared at him.
"You're determined to make things harder for yourself," he said, shaking his head.
"And you've made it your goal to make me hate you more than is humanely possible," she snapped.
He ignored her and drew out his wand again. "Imperio."
She stiffened as the curse took hold of her and he bade her come to him. "Say it," he ordered.
Her lips moved but no sound came forth. He concentrated harder on the spell, watched as her eyes lost some of their focus.
"Louder!"
"Draco."
He smiled. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it? Now lie back on the bed." She did so, and kicking off his shoes, he crawled atop her, unwrapping the towel to reveal her body. Once he was done with the contraceptive charm, he kissed her hungrily, palming her breasts in his hands.
"You will want this as much as I do," he ordered, and at once her arms flung about him, her hands clutching at his defined arms as he dipped his tongue in and out of her mouth, one hand travelling down to the junction between her thighs. A small gasp that might once have been a terrified cry met his ears but her hips still jerked up and pressed against his as he slid his fingers in and began circle around her clit slowly. Parting her legs more widely to accommodate him, she moaned-a low, heady sound that sent a shock through him and made his body tighten considerably. She clutched his neck and bent him down and pressed her lips to his, her hands pushing through his hair and pulling at it hard enough to make him moan loudly. Already she was burning for him, pressing herself into him, the feel of it all so closely reminded him of all the dreams he'd had before but here with him was the real thing and he preferred her very much over them.
The look in his eyes was absolutely predatory as he grabbed her leg and hooked it over his shoulder, angling her hips upwards. A motion of his hand summoned a pillow to rest underneath her hips. Hermione, in the meantime, had managed to pull down his trousers with her foot-a task that would have been harder had he not unzippered them mere moments ago. Draco arched his back so his body pressed into her more deeply-his erection was getting to be too much as he worked his fingers around her clit, feeling her arousal coat his fingers as she ran her hands all over him. She moaned his name loudly and he grinned into her mouth and pulled back, starting to unbutton his shirt when she reached up and pulled it over his head impatiently, mewling with need.
Those little sounds of desire were enough to make him delirious with want but he managed to restrain himself long enough to slip out of his trousers as she watched with hungry eyes. Her thighs fell apart as he crawled between them and he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard as she gasped and arched into him, eager for more. Restless, her hips pressed against him, more urgently each time. Draco took his penis and rubbed the head along her labia slowly, teasingly, then positioned himself, hissing softly with pleasure as he sheathed himself inside of her. She exhaled loudly and sharply as he began to move slowly, but with sure, powerful strokes that made her breathless and sent violent jolts of pleasure up and down her body. The bed rocked as his thrusts became rougher and their bodies became dewy with sweat, the sound of their flesh colliding rang loudly in the otherwise silent room. His hand resumed its attentions to her clit, varying in speed and pressure until her toes began to curl and she raked her fingers on the skin of his back, leaving weeping red gashes in their wake as he groaned and slowed down his pace. The way she drew him in, how right it felt to be inside her, Draco sensed he could very quickly become addicted to this. Hermione grabbed at his backside and pulled him in deeper, head rolling back as she reached climax at the same time he did. Still thrusting, Draco attacked her neck with his lips and his teeth and he crushed his lips to hers as he finished draining himself into her, feeling lightheaded once he was done. He pulled out, never taking his eyes from her flushed face, and kissed her softly.
Without thinking he ended the Imperius and she blinked for a moment or two, not seeming to realize what had just happened. It all seemed to crash down on her mere seconds later-the flush disappeared from her face as she began to cry.
"How dare you?" she screamed, pushing at his chest. "How dare you force me to enjoy my own rape?" Fat teardrops rolled down her face as she hauled herself to the other side of the bed. "You abhorrent, vile-!" She tried striking at him but he caught her arm in time and pinned her to the bed, watching her with a grave expression on his face.
"Let me go!" she shouted, snatching up the towel with her free arm and covering herself as best as she could with it.
He let go and she huddled against the corner, shaking with disgust at what she had just done-what he had just forced her to do.
"You're a monster," she hissed. Her words were choked with grief. "I hate you."
"I know," he said quietly. She looked unwell, as though she would collapse, but as he took one step forward she flung out her arm and stopped him in his tracks.
"Leave me alone," she spat hatefully, and he regarded her coldly for a moment before saying, "As you wish," and summoning his clothing with magic, he left the room.
Hermione showered again that night, only she refused to leave the shower once she was done, preferring to stay under the hot blast of the shower head with her eyes screwed shut, willing herself to forget what had just happened.
(Had to delete the original chapter this was in b/c I didn't realize it was against the rules. Sorry!)
I have stated before and will state again (because there seems to be a few of you who don't bother reading my notes) that I do not support or condone rape at all. My stories are not meant to "glorify" rape.
If you don't like my story, then don't read it. I've posted so many warnings again and again and it's like a lot of you don't bother reading them. All it takes is a click of a mouse. This kind of story isn't for everyone. It has dark themes and frankly not a lot of people can deal with that. I've gotten lots of messages from people who have decided to stop reading because of how dark the story is. I'm sorry about that, but there are so many lovelier fics you can find on this site, I assure you. Go read one of those and forget about mine.
Thanks for your time,
C
