Vacivitas

Chapter Nine

This is why research is important.

Hermione gets as comfortable as she can. She pulls her dress up to her hips so that her legs can be exposed. What should she do about her knickers? Should she wear any at all? Or would it be best to keep them on? If she keeps them on, it provides a good barrier. So if she decides he can be the one to touch her, then she might feel more confident if the fabric is what he's touching. She's sure with the intensity of the arousal, she'll be wet enough for the fabric to not effect anything.

She has to remember that she's an adult. She's not a child. She is an adult woman and it's completely normal to have urges. It's not exactly normal for those urges to be caused by a vampire, but she doesn't really have any say in that. What she can control is her consent. He's already shown her that he values it, so she knows that if she doesn't consent, he'll make sure nothing happens to her. He'll...Well, for lack of a better term...He'll protect her.

Hermione smiles slightly. It's odd to say that, but she believes it. Malfoy would protect her from things. After all, he'd told her as much at dinner the other night. It's violent and it's morbid, but it feels sort-of nice knowing that someone would go to those lengths. She doesn't know exactly why he would react so violently, but it doesn't really matter.

She likes the sentiment.

"If you think I would just stand there and watch you be violated for the sake of a test, you grossly underestimate me. Do you know what it looks like when someone's throat is torn from their neck? If I ever see another wizard lay a single finger on you? You will."

She really likes the sentiment.

Heat unravels in her belly, a ghost of what she felt the night before. It's not exactly comparable to that brutal, unforgiving type of arousal, but it'll do. She closes her eyes, her memories and thoughts dancing together. If she concentrates hard enough, she can hear his voice.

Her fingers slide between her open thighs. She takes a deep breath, her brows twitching when she touches the outside of her knickers. It feels like something that borders on good. Slowly, she begins to stroke them up and down.

"Breathe for me," he'd said. She thinks she liked that. Doing something for a man instead of in spite of him. And not just any man. This particular man.

She takes deep breaths. The thing that had begun to unravel in her stomach starts to spread itself taut and thin, waiting to snap. Her senses are heightened, every part of her body attuned. The cool air in her room. The soft coverlet beneath her. The fluffy pillows. The goosebumps that pebble her legs. The way it feels to breathe in and out, in and out.

"I need you to understand something. If you do not leave this room right now, I will pin you down, tear out your fucking throat, and eat you."

Oh, Gods.

She pulls her knickers aside with one hand. The fingers on her other hand slide through a surprising amount of wetness that has gathered there. It helps ease the passage of her fingertips over the most sensitive part of her entire body. It makes her muscles tense and her toes curl. Her eyes squeeze shut even tighter, tight enough to ache. Bolts of lighting spread outward from her center—bolts that have her quivering with a very excellent replica of the desire she'd felt last night.

"If you disobey me and put your fingers in your cunt, I will make you fuck yourself in front of me."

How many people has he killed? How many for blood, and how many for the Dark Lord?

How many people would he kill to save her?

Her fingers slide faster, exploring her core and experimenting to see what works. Unfortunately for her research, it all feels good. She doesn't know which feels the best. She knows she should probably take her time, but she can't. All these memories rushing towards her, smacking into her full force. Things she didn't realize she was attracted to—things she feels guilty for liking.