Song Suggestion: Malia J– "Smells Like Teen Spirit" (Nirvana cover)
A/N: Chapter 26 and 27 were originally one chapter, but it ended up over 10k, which is double my normal chapter length, so I had to cut it in half. It leaves this chapter with a bit of a cliffhanger.
Thank you MyPrivateInsanity for editing, as always!
A Second Choice
Titus lowered his hand. His face was frozen, mouth opening in shock.
For a single moment, as she watched Titus comprehend her decision, his expression falling into devastation, she regretted her choice.
But then his wand sprang into his hand.
"Diffindo." A red light headed straight for Draco, almost too fast to see.
With a quick flick of his wand, Malfoy deflected it, and the spell dissipated against the wall.
"Stop," Hermione cried.
"Don't intervene." Titus shoved her out of the way with a nonverbal slash of his wand, her body almost crashing into the overseers. "Fight me," Titus demanded, facing Draco. "Or are you still a fucking coward?"
Draco, wearing his own vicious sneer, crouched into an elegant defensive stance. Unlike Viktor, it didn't hold flaws that she could see—showing he'd been extensively trained.
"Coward?" Draco gave a sharp laugh. "You're confusing strategy with avoidance. How does it feel knowing you're predictable?"
"Confrigo!" The spell curved from Titus' wand. Again, Draco dodged it with a quick twist, though it might have burned a few hairs.
"Like I said, fucking predictable."
Something slid shut in Titus' expression, like putting on a mask.
"Cruc—"
A giant blue shield wall erupted between the two duelling men before it could go further.
"Enough, Titus!" Snape stood up from his seat. "You might tempt magic."
The warning was clear: Titus had made an unbreakable vow to not interfere with her choice. If he struck a blow against Malfoy, he might break it.
Draco gave a sly smirk.
"Backing out so soon? I thought you wanted to fight me for her. It looks like you might be the coward. Go on, do it… crucio me."
Hermione had never seen Titus like this – completely out of control. He took a step forward and straightened his arm– as if willing to risk death just to injure Draco. Growling in frustration, he seemed to consider what Snape said, and pocketed his wand with trembling fingers.
His glare turned to Hermione. She had an intense desire to soothe him. I just wanted the chance for more.
"How could you do this to me, Sprite?" His voice cracked on her name. Raw pain clung to him like chains on his neck, and then he turned his back on her.
The castigation sliced into Hermione, haunting her as she watched Titus escape the room as if a dementor was chasing him. When he disappeared through the door, she shivered, feeling sick to her stomach at seeing him in agony. It hurt her to hurt him. She'd been confident in her choice at first, but with each second that passed, doubt gnawed at her. She'd taken a leap into open air, hoping for a soft landing, but she was still descending, unable to see the ground.
His departure left only the overseers and Draco in the room. She didn't have long to feel awkward, because a group of three women walked through the side door opposite the entrance in white dresses, gliding toward her.
"Follow us," the tallest one said when she got close. She had a long red braid that reached her waist. "It's time we prepare you for the night."
Hermione went rigid at the command, stepping backward. Instinctive warning bells went off in her mind.
A black galleon warmed her palm.
Had it been physical or emotional pain? Had it just been the transition? Or had it been something more sinister? Why did Titus arrive so late after Katie's Trials, if they'd ended in the afternoon?
"No," Hermione said. "I'm not going."
The women glanced at each other, and then they turned to the overseers for help. Dolohov smirked, though it held a warning edge, sharp as a knife.
"Go with the women, Precious," he said. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
The hair on the back of her neck prickled in the same way it had while she'd walked through the jungle, knowing unseen dangers lurked in the shadows.
"What does she need to prepare for?" Draco still had his wand out, pointed toward the floor. "Doesn't she just come home with me?"
All the men laughed, except Snape.
"I see your father hasn't filled you in on the details." Dolohov shook his head, seeming amused. "Of course you'll get to bring her home. Such an eager pup. The cunt you earned might be more than you can handle, I can tell. She'll need a man's touch to keep her in line."
"If I ever hear you talk about her cunt in my presence—"
"A Malfoy through and through, I see. So possessive already, though you haven't even fucked her yet. The girl is just being prepared for you. Do you want her to smell like the jungle?"
The men laughed again.
Hermione shifted on her feet, ashamed to be talked about like that in front of other people. One of the girls—wearing a pink headband with a matching bow— reached out and touched the top of her hand in a way no one could see. Hermione jumped with the contact, but relaxed once she realised it was just meant to soothe her anxiety.
If possible, Draco looked more annoyed. And then his face smoothed—occluding again.
"Just let her go, Draco," Snape said. "You'll have her all to yourself soon enough."
Hermione wished to protest more, sensing something off— something wrong. Something even Draco didn't know.
Why didn't Lucius tell his son what to expect? It didn't feel right.
Unless he thought Draco might fight it.
Hermione wanted to resist, like her instincts urged, but it would be against the four overseers. Dangerous wizards. Some of them Mediators. What chance did she stand against them? And where could she go? They'd only capture her and dampen her magic.
"Come with us." The girl with the bow placed a gentle arm around her shoulders and began leading her out, and Hermione let her. As she walked alongside them, Draco met her eyes one more time.
His occlusion dropped for an instant as she disappeared behind the door, exposing his disquiet.
The women led her through the corridors and into a lift. As they travelled, she discovered their names. The youngest—the one with a bow— introduced herself as Lavender Brown. She gave constant little smiles, though they didn't reach her eyes. The woman with the long braid was named Marietta Edgecomb, eyes hard, moving like a robot. Hermione wasn't sure if the woman just didn't like her, or if she reserved her scowl for everyone.
The last woman— Veronica— had pretty dark hair and talked constantly from the moment they exited the Trial room until they reached their destination. Hermione's brain felt like mush, so she just stared at her mouth as she spoke, confused at the words. Nothing stuck enough to answer back, but it didn't seem to bother the woman.
The one-sided conversation served to distract Hermione as they led her inside a small room, hosting a plush chair, a mirror, and an ancient clawfoot tub in the center of the room. Various hair and other grooming potions were lined up on a nearby shelf, showing many of the same ones she used at home.
When the three girls beckoned her forward to the steaming tub, she still did nothing but walk closer in a dumb stupor.
The door closed, and Marietta tugged on the bottom of her shirt, trying to lift it off her. But Hermione's brain finally turned on, and she swatted the woman's hand, scrambling to the opposite side of the room.
She reached for her wand, but couldn't find it. Her horror deepened when she realised Titus still had it, tucked in his pocket after he'd taken it from her in the Trial. In all the confusion, she'd forgotten to take it back.
But that didn't leave her defenceless. She raised her wrists in threat.
"Stay away from me."
Marietta sneered at her.
"If you don't comply, we'll need to—"
"Let me talk to her," Lavender interrupted, raising both her hands as if to show herself as not a threat.
"I'll give you a minute to convince her before I do it my way. We don't have much time to spare."
Lavender turned her attention to Hermione.
"We're just giving you a bath."
"Nothing else?"
"Well, after the bath, we'll do your hair and nails. Just basic grooming." Lavender swallowed, her pretty blue eyes wide. "I–I knew Theo," she said. "He was my friend in school. Talked about you all the time. I've always wanted to meet you."
"You knew Theo?"
"I used to call him a puppy, always following after Harry, looking so cute and pathetic."
Hermione laughed despite her nerves. Her brother did resemble a lost puppy in need of a home.
Lavender stepped closer, and Hermione lowered her wrists, knowing deep down her fight was pointless.
As she helped her take off her clothes, Lavender talked about Theo and how he once exploded a potion and turned half the class green. And then she told her a story about a younger girl named Luna who wore radish earrings. It helped soothe her anxiety, but Hermione was still a little hesitant to get naked in front of multiple strangers.
"We'll need to take your necklace off," Lavender said. "It will be sent to your new home, along with your clothes."
"My necklace?" Hermione asked in confusion, and then her fingers went up and touched her throat. Since receiving the universe, she'd taken to wearing it all the time, to the point she frequently forgot she had it on.
Gently, she unclasped the jewellery. Her neck felt odd and bare as it slid off. Marietta plucked the universe from her hands and placed it on top of her folded Trial clothes. Now naked, Hermione slipped inside the steaming tub and allowed the girls to work.
They washed, brushed, plucked, and scrubbed every part of her— parts she'd never bothered to deal with before. After numbing her skin with a potion, they proceeded to eliminate the hair on her body, starting from her legs then her arms and underarms. The smell of burning hair made her gag. Nothing seemed to bother the women though, as if they'd done this all the time, so her shame vanished, slowly replaced with boredom.
When they got to the hair of her private areas, Hermione stopped them, wiggling away before they could begin, afraid the burning might hurt a little despite the numbing cream.
"What's the point?"
"Most men like it bare," Veronica said as if she thought Hermione was a little slow. For a reason Hermione didn't understand, a shiver went through her.
"But I always thought—well, isn't it normal for a woman to have hair there? I thought it meant I was an adult."
The more she thought about it, the more she didn't like it—especially since it had been ordered. She'd eliminated the hair on her legs and underarms before, liking how smooth her skin felt after, but she didn't realise having hair on her private areas was something to be ashamed of. Draco never made any mention of it, and neither did Titus. In fact, he'd stared at her cunt as if it looked delicious as is.
The women looked at each other in that odd way, as if they didn't know what to do.
Marietta's mouth thinned, but Lavender cut in before she could threaten anything.
"Of course, but it's just standard practice." She gave a pointed stare at the other women, conveying something lost to Hermione. "We don't have to use a permanent spell.
"Whatever makes you happy," Marietta said through clenched teeth.
"Okay," Hermione said, unsure why she felt so resistant to the order. Though she still wasn't comfortable, she sat back and let them work again. As she anticipated, it did hurt, despite the numbing cream.
The exchange left her feeling disturbed in a way she couldn't explain.
Her curls took the longest. Marietta cursed under her breath, tugging on her scalp, attempting to get them to obey. Lavender gave a soft smile while painting her nails a blood red, as if her unwieldy hair amused her.
It took a full four hours for them to finish. An elf entered mid-way through with a tray topped with lemon water and a light dinner of chicken and vegetables.
Hermione found the whole thing tedious, though she could admit the results turned out magnificent. Her curls, once frizzy, now spiralled down her shoulders and back in smooth ringlets. Her skin glowed in the soft light. Pretty nails and soft makeup. Just a hint of colour to her cheeks and a few charms to cover her blemishes.
Hermione didn't understand why they wasted the time. Did Malfoy care that much?
Her nerves bunched in her stomach, thinking about the impending task. She'd always known the first night required sex, but she wondered where he planned for them to do it. Would he bring her to his bed? Would he touch her first? Would he know how to make it less painful? Would it hurt after the first time?
She had so many questions, but she knew no one would answer them. So all she could do was stew in a slow simmering anxiety.
As much as the pampering annoyed her, when they finally finished, Hermione wished to extend it. Ending this part meant the next part needed to begin. After completing their tasks, they wrapped her in a robe with nothing under it, not even knickers or slippers.
"Is that all?" Hermione asked.
Lavender clutched her hand and gave a squeeze. Her eyes looked tired, as if this event had sucked the strength from her. It only made Hermione more nervous.
"Just one more thing. A simple spell, nothing more. Lavender brought out her wand and slipped it through the folds of her robes and tapped her stomach. A light glowed dark red right above her robes. Lavender's shoulders sagged down, as if in relief.
"What was that?"
"It checks for—" She bit her lip hard enough it had to hurt. "There's nothing left to do now. We've been told to bring you to the waiting room."
Hermione assumed the spell checked for virginity. She'd read it was a standard practice before the old marriages.
"The waiting room?"
That didn't seem too bad.
They led her through the ministry corridors. Occasionally, she'd see another witch or wizard. They'd stop and stare as she passed, but she ignored them. After a few floors up, the lift opened, and they entered a room on the first right.
Stark white walls greeted her with nothing in the room besides two ornate goblets on a small wooden table filled with what she thought might be wine. She went inside and the women didn't follow her, besides Lavender. The other two began walking away.
"Can I give you a hug?" Lavender asked.
Hermione wasn't big on physical touch, but she needed the comfort too. "Sure."
Lavender wrapped her arms around her waist and slipped a cold vial in her hand. Hermione dared not look down, and Lavender no longer smiled.
"In case you need it," she whispered.
"What is it?"
"Poison."
A chill went up her spine. She tried to pull back, but Lavender kept her held tight.
"Why would I—"
"It's untraceable and will look like a heart attack."
"Why would you give me such a thing?"
"I'm under a vow of silence," she said. "But I— Theo once stopped Blaise from— Let's just say I owe him a favour. He loves you so much, and this is the kindest option I can think of."
Hermione wished to pepper her with questions. What could be so bad that she'd choose death?
"I can't kill myself."
Lavender sucked in a breath as if close to saying the wrong thing. "Whatever they've told you—Merlin, I'm trying to save you from—"
Her lips snapped shut.
"From Malfoy?"
Hermione's stomach dropped and twisted at the thought.
"I can't say."
She tried to give the vial back in a way the others couldn't see, but Lavender shoved her hand aside.
"Lav, we need to go," Veronica called from down the corridor.
"I was just saying goodbye." Lavender pressed her wand to her robe, and a pocket formed. "Keep it. You might need it one day." Heeding the warning, Hermione slipped the poison in the make-shift pocket, and Lavender whispered a cushioning spell to prevent accidental breakage, sewing it up again.
Why would she need poison? Would Draco be cruel tonight? Would the first time hurt that bad?
Squeezing her hand one more time, Lavender exited without a backward glance, closing the door behind her, leaving Hermione alone.
Malfoy believed they were fated, but he might have been playing a long game of lies and manipulation. What did Lavender know that she didn't?
There wasn't anything else she could do but wait.
Hermione stood there, fidgeting, attempting to control her nerves. When the door opened, she almost jumped in surprise, wound tight as a harp string. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as Malfoy walked in, wearing a similar robe to her. She could see the outline of his body through the thin fabric, and she assumed he could see hers.
He stopped, staring at her. His face seemed paler than normal, almost sickly. Haunted.
"Are you all right?" She asked eventually.
He grimaced and looked away.
"That's what I should ask you."
Lavender's warnings kept bouncing through her mind. The silence became oppressive as he stood there.
"How did you spy on me?"
She needed to solve the mystery. It had been bothering her for hours.
The side of his lip jumped. Only for a second, and then it vanished.
"Theo, of course. He placed an invention of the Weasel twins under the dining table and somewhere on the mantle. I've been able to hear every conversation. I didn't even have to bribe him into it this time."
Theo! She didn't know if she wanted to kiss her brother's cheeks or punch him in the nose. Maybe she'd do both the next time she saw him.
"But he never visited again after the dinner."
"He did, but since the manor wards obey Theo too, he told them not to notify Titus. He slipped in and out without either of you noticing."
It was a stupid risk on Theo's part. Titus' anger would rival a dragon's if he ever discovered the duplicity, especially given the outcome of the Trial.
They stood there for another minute of uncomfortable silence. He hid something. She saw it in the way he refused to look at her.
"Do you know what happens next?" she asked.
The worst part about the day was the uncertainty. But Katie went through it and so did many other muggleborns. It couldn't be that bad, right? Despite being angry at her, Titus wouldn't let anything truly harmful happen to her.
Would he?
The doubt opened a hole in her soul, a dark miasmic thing.
"Yes, my father has informed me of the process. We're supposed to be getting to know each other right now… though the way you came on my fingers at Malkin's seems a sufficient introduction." He attempted a joke, but his voice sounded harsh again, grating the words to shreds.
"Why did they give us wine?" Hermione hadn't touched the drinks yet.
"To relax us."
"Are you nervous?"
He hesitated, seeming to go paler, if that was possible.
"I'm not allowed to be."
"It's okay if you are." She swallowed hard, wondering why her mouth felt so dry. "Is this— your first time too?"
"Yes."
An unknown fear loosened in her chest and disintegrated. Just like in the glade, they'd figure it out together. There was nothing to compare it to. They'd probably be bad at it, but that was okay.
"Have you done anything else besides what you've done with me?"
His eyes flicked back to her, and he sneered at her in a cruel way. "Do you really want to know that? Because I sure as fuck don't want to know if you've done anything else." He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. I never lied. You were always my first, but there were a few girls I've kissed. One I touched. I—thought it would be the same, but it wasn't."
She shouldn't have asked him about his history. Not when she'd let Titus touch her. He was right. What they decided to do with their bodies in the past didn't mean anything for the present. And she didn't bother examining the jealousy broiling inside her.
Hermione made up her mind and walked to the table, trying to display her courage. She picked up a golden goblet, assuming they were both the same, but Malfoy stopped her.
"The jewelled one's yours." She placed the goblet down with a click.
"What's the difference?"
"Mine's whisky. I remembered you thought it tasted like poison. The wine for you is a rare elvish vintage. I'm told it tastes like summer berries. You can barely taste the alcohol."
"Thanks for your consideration."
She picked up her goblet, inlaid with rubies. Before she could drink it, he walked forward, distracting her with how close he stood, and picked up his own.
The cologne he used lingered in the air, and it smelled divine. She took a moment to appreciate his physique, visible through the thin fabric of his robes. If she got rid of her nerves, the future nights of pleasure excited her. She imagined running her tongue down the muscles in his stomach, imagined them tightening under her as she went lower and let her mouth do what she'd seen in the study. Could she break his occlusion with a simple lick?
Malfoy watched her intently as she brought the goblet to her lips.
"Don't drink it!" Before she could sip, he smacked the jewelled goblet out of her hands. It clattered on the floor beside her, crimson droplets spraying across her white dress and on the pristine wall, reminding her of Viktor's blood. In shock, she wiped a few beads of wine from her face with her sleeve.
"Why the fuck did you do that?"
Malfoy tipped back his goblet, drinking the entire contents, then flung it to the side in obvious anger, no longer attempting to occlude.
"I didn't know!" He kicked the table away. It struck the wall, and the noise of it crashing to the floor echoed around the barren room. Hermione placed a hand to her sternum and stepped away from the violence. "You have to believe that I didn't know. My father didn't tell me until today. I—I'd heard rumours, but nothing was ever confirmed, so I thought it was just gossip. It's the old guard of Death Eaters, the originals. They are the ones behind it. They don't let anyone inside their circle unless they've gone through it themselves or if they're the head of an old family."
"What didn't you know?" Her voice sounded much calmer than she felt.
He glanced up, eyes wild and red as if rubbed raw.
"My father didn't tell me because he knew I wouldn't have allowed you to be—" He closed his eyes for a second, controlling his breathing. "We're stuck now. There's nothing either of us can do without them taking you from me. Do you understand? I didn't want it to be like this."
"You're scaring me." Hermione took another step back. He watched her move away with a grimace. "What's going to happen?"
"They want me to take your virginity."
"Of course," Hermione said, highly confused.
"You don't understand." He ran a hand through his hand, tousling the top. "They will all be there—watching."
Horror bloomed in her soul, opening its poisonous petals.
We've both seen witches fight and scream on the ritual night. It's not pleasant. Do you want that for Hermione?
The veil of secrecy ripped away in one violent tug.
"All of them?"
"There's a ritual we need to complete. They're trying to break the curse, and virgin blood is a powerful method. So far it hasn't worked— but they've been excited for yours. They think you might be the key. Which means there's no way to get out of this. They'll hunt us both down if we try to run."
Hermione clutched at her stomach. It all made sense now. The cryptic remarks. Lucius, Rosier— Titus. She almost whimpered when she thought of the last name, because he must have known the whole time. How could he not? He'd been on the board of overseers several times for various Trials.
And he'd been late coming home after Katie's—
Did he—did he watch her friend—
Her vision began to get fuzzy, and she stumbled, reaching out to hold on to the wall, but Malfoy caught her instead.
"Fuck, Granger, don't panic. Please, don't panic. I don't know if I can get through it if you're like this. And if I can't get through it, you'll be given to Titus. Right now that's exactly what he fucking wants."
Titus would have taken her virginity in front of an audience— in front of all the lecherous old men that he'd tried to shield her from. In front of Rosier and his gross smile. He'd have done it while Dolohov stared at her like a Manticore, while Macnair hissed "mudblood."
She'd never felt so betrayed. Not even when he'd started the Trials.
"What was in the wine?" She asked, still gasping. Draco let her go and backed away. He looked guilty and pale.
"A potion," he admitted. "Titus gave it to my father and demanded I give it to you. He said it would make your time… easier."
"Easier! How the fuck could anything make that easier?"
He rubbed his palm into his forehead as if his head ached. "It's a rare potion that makes you seem lucid for the moment, but it scrambles your memories for twenty-four hours without the permanent damage to your brain that Obliviate can cause. I'm not even sure how Titus found the ingredients. It can take a year to brew."
For an entire year, the man she'd loved her whole life— the man she'd counted on to protect her— that same man had planned to take her virginity in front of an audience. And then he'd have stolen her memories, so she would never have known what had happened. The worst part was that he probably thought it would be protecting her. She could imagine him trying to justify it now.
"Do the other girls get drugged as well?"
"Most of them. They used to not bother, but it caused… problems. Now they need to be aware enough to participate, but many are given calming draughts spiked with a mild aphrodisiac. They remember it though."
A black galleon.
She felt ill, but now that the shock had worn off, she stood up straight. Her horror turned into a low, simmering fury. She understood now that she was a sacrifice on the altar of their infertility. In a way, she'd always known that. She'd deluded herself into thinking it was some sort of honour, but there was nothing sacred about what they asked of her tonight. A part of her wished to have sex with Draco now and spite them all, but she knew the consequence of that would be dire.
"Why didn't you let me drink it?" She still couldn't understand his motivation.
Draco's face hardened into sharp lines. He curled both hands into fists at his side.
"Is it that hard to believe that I wouldn't want to rape you, drugged out of your mind, in front of an audience! Bloody fuck, Granger— I thought I could bring you home. Maybe under one of the consummation spells, like they did for old marriages, and of course, I knew I was expected to use the Malfoy binding spells. If I had known—" He reached out, and she stepped backward. He dropped his hand, looking in pain, as if her retreat wounded him. "If I had known ahead of time, I'd have figured a way out of it."
She'd been betrayed so much, she didn't know if she could trust him.
"What do we do now?"
Draco accio'd her goblet and syphoned up the wine, cleaning it of impurities. Even the droplets from her dress lifted off the fabric and returned to the goblet.
"Now, you have another choice." He extended the wine. "We can't get out of the ritual, but you can decide if you want to be drugged or not. I'd—I'd understand it if you wanted to forget."
Hermione hesitated, staring at the liquid. Did she want to forget? The thought of being intimate in front of a group of men made her want to vomit.
But it was her first time. Something she'd never get back. And Hermione wasn't one to like to be out of control of her thoughts. She needed her wits, and if she had to glare at Titus the whole time just to see his guilt, she would.
"No." She pushed it away.
Draco's throat moved, but he levitated the side table and set it right in front of her. Like an offering, he placed the goblet on the center of the table.
"Titus will know you didn't take it, and the others will know I didn't give you a calming drought, so you can't fight or panic. At all. You must obey me, or he'll have the right to finish for me. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, wondering if she could uphold it. Her panic attacks tended to take over her body, rob her of autonomy.
He ran a hand through his hair, and two red spots erupted on his face, flushing.
"None of this is what I'd choose for our first time. I had planned to… prepare you to make it comfortable." He flushed even brighter. "But I'm not going to subject you to that in front of the men." His voice had a hard note to it, a determination. "So you can't fight it, Granger, even if it hurts. I'll try to help you through it, but you'll need to trust me."
How could he ever help her through it?
"Will it hurt?"
"I know a lubrication spell that should make it easier. But the ritual— my father said the pain can be severe, depending on the witch's magic. There will be a script applied to your stomach, and it burns your skin."
"Won't a pain potion help?"
"Not with this ritual. There's nothing I can do."
"I see." She wondered how she sounded so calm when on the inside she was screaming.
Despite having trouble trusting him, he did give her another choice, even at risk to himself. That was far more than anything anyone else had given her.
And they were stealing his first time too. She wondered how many fantasies he'd had of them, only for it to be ruined.
"It's okay, Malfoy," she said. "We'll get through this together."
He grimaced in disgust.
"Save that sentiment for later. I'm fully expecting you to hate me for the rest of our lives after this. We only have until midnight, so make your choice wisely. I think—I think I need some time alone."
He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Hermione stared at the crimson liquid for a long time, weighing the pros and cons. The full goblet was still sitting on the table when Draco returned.
She suspected Malfoy wanted her to drink it, forget everything and not remember his role in the night. But despite that, he'd left the choice to her— the second choice he'd given her in a single day. Her emotions were too confusing to sort through, so she bottled them up and shoved them to a dark recess of her mind where she could review them later.
In contrast to earlier, when his rage poured out of him, now all expression was wiped from his face. Hermione wished she had the same skill to face the night. A place to go in her mind to escape the pain of betrayal and shame.
"It's time," he said.
She nodded, and he reached in his pocket and pulled out a rock. It was white and dusty—a portkey.
She swallowed hard, trying her best to control her panic. For years, she'd called herself a Gryffindor, and it was time to test that statement. Would she walk with her head held high to her sacrifice, or would she be dragged kicking and screaming? Either way would end in the same fate.
Hermione decided to be like Draco, refusing to display her emotions, refusing to give them a show. She wondered if the other muggleborns, mind-altered from fake desire, gasped for orgasm as they were raped. Did the Death Eaters enjoy seeing a young girl violated as long as she participated? The thought made acid spike up her throat, burning on its way back down.
No, she owned her pleasure, and she'd give it when and where she wanted. It didn't belong at the feet of men like Dolohov. She steeled her spine, determined to give them only the condemnation they deserved.
"I'm ready," Hermione said.
Stripped of his own emotion, Draco nodded his agreement. A few moments later, the portkey warmed under her hand, and they vanished.
