Vacivitas

Chapter Sixteen

So, this story will be very dark. I mean, it is relentless. There's insane amounts of dubcon, there's noncon due to Death Eaters, sexual content, blood, some gore, depravity, sadism, etc. I wanted to go as deep into the dark as I could. Draco is possessive and unhinged. Hermione is strong and defiant, vulnerable when she needs to be. But it won't be all dark—there will be some moments of sunshine.

I know a lot of these things will be triggers for some, squicks for others, and extremely dark for anyone reading.

I also want to make it clear for anyone concerned with the handling of the noncon: I am a trafficking survivor and SA survivor, so writing this story is somewhat therapeutic for me, even if it's extreme on content.

But I just wanted to warn people as best I can, because the last thing I want to do is cause harm to anyone. So if you're reading along and find a trigger that I didn't know about, please tell me in the comments and I'll add it to the warnings for that chapter so I can keep people as safe as they need :)

Trigger warnings for this chapter:

The word rape is mentioned a couple of times

Massive Dramione dubcon-Hermione is the culprit this time

Chapter Sixteen

Hermione lies in bed until mid-morning, staring at the canopy above her and enduring her newest existential crisis.

There's so much that happened the night before that she doesn't know where to begin. The fact that Malfoy came to her room, drunk and panicking about the Dark Lord. The things he said. The things they did together. The things he admitted.

They don't make sense.

She can't come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to her in school. It doesn't fit with the narrative. The narrative has always been the same: Malfoy hates Hermione. Hermione hates Malfoy. The limit does not exist. The world turns. But now, she had to think back on every single class period with him. Every time she wore a skirt. Every time they were in Potions. She almost feels sympathetic toward Snape's poor desk.

Almost...

Ever since Malfoy bought her from Zabini, taking her out of the pit and thrusting her into this new, strange life, Hermione's felt more confusing feelings in a short time than she's ever felt in her entire life.

She closes her eyes, remembering the last words he said to her before he fell unconscious the night before. Thinking about the way he looked down at her, like she was going to believe him if it was the last thing he did.

Did he remember any of it?

Malfoy is black-and-white, two sides of the same coin. He's cruel when he's kind, and when he's kind, he's cruel. He refuses to show emotion–refuses to let himself feel anything. Any time he slips up and does something that hints at a sliver of a heart, he follows it up by doing something abhorrent to try and remind her who he is. But then, drunk and honest, he comes to her and essentially tells her he had feelings for her at school? That she's all he has left from before. That she really is different.

Maybe things make sense after all. They just aren't logical.

She finally drags herself out of bed when her stomach begins to growl. It's a cold day at the end of October, so she chooses a floor-length green dress with long sleeves. It trails the ground behind her, causing her to have to hold it up ever-so-slightly so she doesn't fall. She pulls her braids back into a ponytail at the base of her head and heads down to eat. Malfoy should be at work, anyway. She won't have to worry about avoiding him until–