Vacivitas

Chapter Seventeen

Trigger Warnings:

In this chapter, Malfoy has to place horrible false memories into Hermione's head of him raping her all over the house because Voldemort will be going through their heads soon. It's not very graphic, but it is descriptive, and there's more than several paragraphs dedicated to it. The word rape is freely mentioned–there is no censoring of it. Please skip this chapter if these things trigger you. It shouldn't affect your reading of the fic, however the emotional connection has some good development if that's important to you. 

Chapter Seventeen

"The first thing you need to understand is that these memories are temporary."

Hermione sits in her favorite chair in the library while Malfoy, wearing a simple black tee shirt and dark grey trousers, paces back and forth in front of her. Hermione herself is wearing a knee-length dress made of chiffon today. She knows they'll both have to change before they go tonight, but it feels nice to be dressed so comfortably.

She's also enjoying the unobstructed view of the tattoos on his arms—arms that have just the right amount of definition and muscle. She wonders what they looked like when he picked her up.

"They're not real, okay? So, whatever I place there, don't get pulled under and drown in it. These things aren't for you or I–they're for the Dark Lord's sake, and anyone else who might search our minds tonight, or after."

She watches him walking, but her mind is preoccupied with the things he said last night. How he wanted to fuck her for so long. For how long has he wanted it? How often does he think about it?

Hermione runs her hand absentmindedly along her thigh, remembering how he held her open so he could grind against her core. She feels something flutter between her legs at the memory and guilt pulls the corners of her mouth down. He was forced to do everything he did last night. He'd pleaded with her to make him stop, to find some way to escape. And she'd given in.

"These are things that I created off the cuff without a chance to do so before he cast the spell. So, they may be...Rough. They've got to stay that way, because if they don't match perfectly, he will know the truth."

There's still fear. His strength is too great for her, and she knows now for certain: if he ever lost control while feeding, she wouldn't be able to withstand the tidal wave. She would give in. He'd be able to drain her until there was nothing left. He could kill her, and she'd cling to him while he did it.

Gods.

She's weak for him.

"Granger," he says. "Please stop thinking about it."

She flushes with heat. She's been caught. "I'm sorry."

Their eyes meet across the distance between them, tension in the air thick enough to make her shift in discomfort. Hermione's the first to look away, her mortification keeping her quiet. She doesn't want him to know the things she's been feeling. He'd said very clearly that when he fed, it didn't do anything for him–it was all for the person being bitten. But last night, and the night before...She knows now that he might be feeling the same feelings.

He could be as confused as her.

But she wonders: has Malfoy changed? The person who brought her to the Manor isn't the same as the one standing before her. He's Occluding, he's still got a short temper, but she thinks she can say with confidence that he doesn't hate her as much as she thought. If he did, he would have thrust her right into Carrow's arms. He wouldn't have begged her to stop him last night; he would have just taken it from her.