Vacivitas

Chapter Twenty

Trigger warnings: extreme EXTREME dubcon. Like I said in the previous chapter, some may consider this noncon. And I mean it when I say EXTREME. There's also an orgasm that happens when she doesn't want it to, but only because they're in front of the Death Eaters. Hermione is NOT raped, however if she didn't consent to him doing whatever he had to do including this beforehand, what he does would be considered sexual harassment. If rape and sexual assault are a trigger for you, this chapter has a massive warning.

This chapter is tough to get through. But remember the situation they are in, and know that it won't break them.

I am VERY nervous to post this chapter, but I know it must be done.

I would consider this chapter to have a toe dipped into dead dove territory. Just a toe, since Draco and Hermione are both victims in this, in different ways.

Chapter Twenty

Carrow's eyes openly follow her as she limps into a small room with marble floors and stone walls. There's floor-to-ceiling windows, through which a starry sky and full moon shines through, illuminating a long rectangular table. Chairs with extremely tall backs line each side of the table, each one filled by a Death Eater. Some she recognizes, like Dolohov, both Carrows, Bellatrix, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius, and a faint recognition of the black hair and ice-blue eyes of Cassius Warrington. The others blur together. The largest chair rests at the far end, and the Dark Lord is seated upon it.

Malfoy chooses the first chair they encounter–the furthest one on the side of the table that faces them. Hermione casts a quick glance to the wall, where there are several scantily-clad women in various states of wounded teetering on high heels. She only recognizes one. A Slytherin girl from her year that had fought on their side, Tracey Davis. Hermione can see in the girl's brown eyes that she recognizes her, too.

These women are slaves.

Malfoy seats himself, leaving Hermione standing beside him.

The table is set with silver dishware, plates and utensils and chalices. There are wine bottles peppered along its length. Right as Hermione registers they're there, Carrow stands from his seat halfway down the table, facing Malfoy's side of it.

"My Lord, some of your younger followers are eager to earn your favor. They have sent their slaves to serve us in any way necessary."

"How kind," Voldemort says, and he snaps his fingers. House Elves appear to fill the plates with food that looks more gourmet than even the food at Malfoy Manor. "You may tell them I am pleased."

"Anything for you, my Lord." Carrow bows his head and sits down. He then gestures to the women and beckons them. "Serve us wine."

They begin to do so.

Hermione's knees tremble. Her heels are too high, standing nearly four inches. Her wounds are too great, too overwhelming. She pitches forward, a hand on the table.

Several sharp glares turn to her. Malfoy wraps his hand around her forearm and digs his nails in until she's gasping in pain.

"Keep your filthy, dirty hands off of the Dark Lord's table," he growls up at her.

"I can't stand," she protests in spite of the fact that she's not supposed to speak without being asked a question.

"If you fall, I will beat you until you cannot see. Remain standing."

Hermione has no choice.

The dinner progresses, several conversations taking place as the food is consumed. She catches random fragments. Things about France and Greece. Muggle London being nearly completely destroyed. Sexual preferences and repulsions. Remarks about the food. Showering Voldemort with over-the-top compliments. Complaints about the lack of progress on something in the Ministry.