She will NOT cry. She was stronger than this.
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Running as quickly as she could, she headed directly for the Head Bathroom. She hurriedly removed all of her clothes and plunged into a hot bath. Ignoring how burningly hot it was, she repeatedly splashed her face and vigorously rubbed her cheek. Try as she might, she couldn’t wipe off the feeling of Malfoy’s saliva trail across her face.
"I hate him!" she announced fiercely to the mirror, as she was stepping out of the bath. She wrapped her towel around her angrily.
" ’Course you do dear……go get ‘im…," the mirror replied sleepily before resuming slumber. Hermione turned on the tap and cupped her fingers to capture the water. She put the water in her mouth, gargled, and spat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
How DARE he do that?! She put a trembling finger on her swollen lips. Lips swollen because of HIM.
<That……That was my first ki – NO! It wasn’t a kiss! It WASN’T! >
She stopped scooping water for a bit and stared at her reflection. She was a mess. <He stole it!! He stole my first kiss! Ron……..>
She slammed her palm into the sink. <Don’t think about Ron right now! > How could she have been so stupid? She was the cleverest witch and she couldn’t do anything to protect herself. She was pathetic! And now, without her wand, she really couldn’t do anything! AND she had to face him again!
Her face burned red with shame. She slowly walked back to Gryffindor Tower and made her way to her own private dorm room. She sighed. She needed to be alert and ready tomorrow. Better get some sleep.
***********************************************
The next day, she woke up with a huge amount of dread. She was sorely tempted to just stay in bed all day. But somehow she got herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She growled. Luckily she brought along a makeup kit her mother bought for her over the summer. She rarely used any of it, but right now she was thankful she brought it with her.
It took several layers of makeup to cover the hickey successfully. She spun around. It was good enough, no one would really notice. And her hair nicely covered up whatever bruising there was to her neck. Long sleeved clothing hid the rest. She was ready to go. She took a deep breath, and stepped out to the Great Hall.
Constantly reminding herself to act normally, she arrived just in time for lunch. Harry and Ron flagged her down near the end of the table, indicating they saved a seat for her. She waved and joined them.
"I’ve never seen you up so late, ‘Mione," Ron said through a mouthful of sandwich. "You’re usually up at 6 doing homework or something."
"I do tend to oversleep on occasion, you know. I’m not a robot," she said with as much cheer as she could muster. She even giggled appropriately when a confused look contorted Ron’s face at the word robot. "Pass the bread, would you Harry?"
He smiled and handed the basket to her. He patted Ron on the back, indicating that he should just forget it. "Poor Neville, I think he’s still trying to recuperate after yesterday. Maybe we should go cheer him up after lunch. You know, bring some food or something."
They quickly agreed, and soon, she temporarily forgot her predicament. Having lunch with them was definitely a good idea – they cheered her up immensely. She was laughing hard at Harry’s Snape impersonation when Ron interrupted.
"Hey Hermione! D’you think your parents would be too mad if we kidnapped you to the Burrow this Christmas holiday? Harry’s going be there too! How about it?" He looked at her eagerly.
She broke into an earsplitting grin. "Ron! That is such a wonderful coincidence! My parents are planning to celebrate their anniversary in Spain for winter holiday and I would’ve been stuck at home all by myself! I’d be delighted to come! I was so disappointed when I couldn’t come visit over the summer."
Ron likewise smiled a dazzling smile. A girl at the Hufflepuff table swooned. "Great! I need to send mum an owl soon then! The Infamous Trio will be together for Christmas! Mice and small children beware!" Hermione giggled. It was perfect.
Little did she know, Draco had heard everything they said from his own table. He scowled. With his sharp eyes, he noticed she hid his love bite with cosmetics. Now how was anyone to know she was taken? He glared at their general direction and left the Great Hall. He had plans.
***********************************************
After lunch, they brought Neville some food from lunch and stayed a bit to cheer him up. As it was Saturday, Harry had a Quidditch practice to organize, and Ron went out with Ginny to visit their brothers, Fred and George, in Hogsmeade. After graduation, the twins set up their own joke shop called Weasley Wizardly Wonders, which was wildly popular. That left Hermione time to mull in her own thoughts. Although her low self-confidence cried in protest, she considered the idea that Draco WAS interested in her.
< But not in the honorable way, > she quickly added, her head starting to hurt from all the theories she had cooked up. She shook her head and took another sip of her black coffee. < Okay, from the top. Mostly likely analysis: Malfoy has a hidden agenda. Probably something that will humiliate me, Harry, Ron, or possibly all three of us at once. Even if he’s not that petty, he still harbors a deep abhorrence for me, heritage-wise and personally. So even if he has some sort-of physical attraction to me, I should be prepared for the worst! > With that final thought, she downed the last of her coffee.
Night came all too soon. She glanced at the clock. 11:49 PM. She needed to go now – best not keep him waiting. She wanted him to be in the best mood so he could return her wand. And then she’d blast his sorry ass goodbye. She shook her head. No, that came out wrong. She was Head Girl after all. She’d inform Professor Dumbledore and set up some sort of Protection Program for her friends and their families. He would NOT lord over people like this.
But still, she hesitated. Pride prevented her from going, but the love for her friends battled on. Finally, fearing for her friends’ lives, she reluctantly marched down to the dungeon. However, she made a pit stop at the Common Room and looked around for a suitable weapon. She refused to go to him unprotected. A heavy, silver candlestick caught her eye across the room. She hefted it in her hand.
Perfect.
She quietly opened the door to the dungeon room, only to find his bright gray eyes almost illuminating the room with their glow. She meekly stepped in, and the door slammed shut behind her. She felt her indignation slowly seeping out of her. He incanted the Silentisvarti spell and stood up. He didn’t look pleased.
"You think I wouldn’t know?" he growled. He stalked up to her, standing less than a few feet away. "I heard every single fucking word!"
Frightened, she took several steps back, holding the candlestick in front of her. "I d-don’t know what you’re – "
"You will NOT go to that……that beggar Weasel’s shack!" he interrupted. "I won’t allow it!"
Did he just insult HER best friend AND forbade her to do something in one sentence? "You leave Ron out of this Malfoy! You can’t tell me what to do!"
Anger taking over, she swung the candlestick at his head. She forgot the fact she was Hermione Granger, Head Girl, bookworm extraordinaire. All she wanted to do was smash his arrogant little head in.
Unfortunately, he caught it, as if a small child had swung a twig at him. She cursed inwardly his strength. He yanked it away and threw the candlestick behind him. It landed with a hard thud. His breath came out ragged from his rage. He grabbed her robe clasps and unhooked them, flinging her robe off her. She gasped and instinctively turned to run away.
This was too dangerous. She had to leave NOW. Whatever control Malfoy ever showed was gone now.
As the room was only lit by dim wand light and the moon, she tripped over the stone floor; a wayward indention. She fell to the floor, losing one of her shoes in the process. She luckily broke her fall with her hands, but she heard Malfoy’s steady footsteps approaching her. She quickly flipped over to see his menacing form looming over her.
She tried to scoot away as fast as she could, but he was faster. He kneeled and pinned her down roughly. Her uniform sweater was ripped off without any disregard. He held her down by her shoulders, positioning himself between her bent legs. She tried to knee him in the back, but he didn’t seem too affected by it. She only succeeded in kicking off her other shoe.
"Don’t touch me!" she yelled desperately. He silenced her with a brutal kiss. She struggled against him when he suddenly pulled away. Out of the corner of his mouth was dripping blood – she bit him. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, grinning darkly.
"Resistance only makes a man more aroused,"* he informed her, disturbingly not at all angry at her show of defiance. He almost seemed to be relishing it.
Her eyes widened. This was not happening to her. This was a horrible nightmare. This should be like any other evening for the past seven years; she should be studying alone in her room, and then falling asleep in her bed.
"Now you’re completely bound to me. If you even mutter a word about this or anything against me to anyone, your tattoo will blaze up and prevent you from speaking. It’s even more painful than what you just experienced. It connects to your thought pattern, so even if you want to relay your message through nods or writing, it will stop you. It also forbids you to perform any harmful magic on me, so I’m afraid you can’t hex me straight to hell anymore."**
She bit back a sob. She had heard of something like this – the BloodBind Spell, part of the Dark Arts. How could she let anyone know of his monstrosity now? She was helpless. He walked around the room, picking up her clothes and throwing them unceremoniously on top of her. He looked so dangerous, so powerful, in the moonlight. The pale light bounced off his skin, reminding Hermione of those beautiful Greek or Roman sculptures in the museums.
"It’s late – you better go back before someone notices," he said softly with his deep, honeyed voice, breaking her dazed observation. He was confident in the knowledge that she would obey him. Trembling, she collected her clothes and threw her robe over her. The door opened on its own, and without a backward glance she managed to run out. He sighed contently to himself.
The fun was only beginning.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////ENDFLASHBACK///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Hermione smashed the mirror with a vase. She was a monster, something dirty. She looked at her hand, the hand that touched him…there– it was so dirty, so very dirty.
In a crazed state, she picked up one of the shards of mirror. Shakily, she held it to her wrist. She had to get rid of it. It would infect the rest of her body. She needed to cut it off. She pressed hard and a thin line of blood appeared. She gasped; the blood brought her back to reality. She threw the shard as far away as possible. What was she thinking? Hurting herself more was the worst thing she could do now.
Holding the offending hand, she let out a sob of despair. Now what will she do? She’s at his utter mercy. She has absolutely no way out now. She sank to the floor, hugging her hand to her chest. She curled into a fetal position. And she cried.
<WHY?!>
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