Obliviate

Chapter Sixteen | Montreuil

The next morning came by in what felt like a blink for Hermione. She was awoken by the piercing morning sun seeping through her curtains and the laughter of Muggles passing through the streets below her room.

The smell of cooking had filled the flat. Hermione scrunched up her nose and took a deep breath in, the pleasing smell flooding her senses. Her stomach rumbled.

As she moved, a faint pain spread through her lower abdomen. She run her hands over her stomach, caressing it from the pain. As if, by some sort of miracle, her touch alone would make it stop hurting.

The memories of yesterday shot through Hermione's mind like a bullet. Ruthless - careless in its path. Hot breath layering her collarbones, her throat. Fingertips running against her hips as she rocked against his.

His.

Could she say his name? She couldn't. She-

She wouldn't.

Hermione frowned so hard she could feel a headache coming on. Her skin was heated like a burning stove - too hot to touch. She could feel the small beads of sweat gathering at the nape of her neck and trickling down her temples as she nervously bit down on her bottom lip.

It felt sore. It was only when the iron taste from biting her lip so hard that her teeth pierced into the skin seeped onto Hermione's tongue did she then snap out of yesterday's sins.

Sins. That's all it was.

Draco Malfoy was a sinner. Hermione Granger was no saint - she sat in the middle, like a fragile ornament. Like if, by the chance she'd get dragged into the underworld to the Devil himself, she'd lose her medium and plunge into the depths of hell.

And nothing would be able to stop her.

He'd already sized her up - calculating her movement, noting down all her triggers. He'd watched her when she'd slept. When she'd woken up a few nights prior and her curtains were closed. He'd seen her vulnerable.

And finally - he seized Hermione like a meal. Eaten in one, and swallowed whole. She'd had no time to escape from his attack of consumption before he dived into her mind - and inside of her.

He carried power. Hermione was powerful. A trained legilimens, the Dark Lord himself's right-hand woman. Hermione carried power too.

But when you fight power and power constantly, eventually one becomes weak. Tired. Like they are slowly being broken down by the constant attacks against them.

And eventually, Draco or Hermione had to break.

But who broke first?

Her mind had been sucked into a whirlpool of thoughts. Chapters of Draco were slowly clicking into place for Hermione as she pulled the covers over her naked body, letting the sunlight illuminate her skin like a perfectly composed golden glow.

She slid her feet through the sheet and covers, the material gently assaulting her skin. She wished she could wake up feeling this giddy every morning. Yet - she couldn't stand Draco.

He was a foul, loathsome, evil little-

Cockroach.

Smack.

Draco's face perfectly connected with Hermione's knuckles as she plummeted her fist into his perfectly proportioned face.

The fear in his eyes shot out like a dagger and attacked Hermione with force. For once, she saw right past his facade. He was in fact - a small, fearsome bully. And yet, somebody so cruel - so foul.