Vacivitas

Chapter Twenty-Four

She has to wonder.

Did he have feelings for her at Hogwarts?

The thought makes her palms feel clammy. He'd told her the things he used to imagine about her in school, were they the truth? He could have been lying. He was drunk and in the process of feeding off of her. He'd told her before that the feed does nothing for him sexually—only for the victim.

But he'd also said she was different. Albeit in different context, but she thinks it still applies. Could this mean that there were always feelings there? Or is it just an attachment to the past that's mimicking feelings? Five weeks ago, before he started to feed on her blood, she would have been revolted if that were the case.

There's not a second in the day where she doesn't think about what they did together the day after she finally healed. The way he'd played every chord on her body like a piano. He'd worshiped her body in a way that she knows that nobody else would be able to do. He'd reduced her to a sobbing mess, and he'd done it without a single bite.

"The only way you'd let me fuck you is with my fangs in your throat and your blood in my mouth."

Oh, how things have changed.

They'd almost kissed. If it weren't for Tillian and Faye interrupting, what would have happened? She's had his lips on her neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and core, but the feeling of his lips upon her lips is personal. Personal and forbidden.

There would be no going back.

But now he's not home. He's gone somewhere without telling her, before she could even thank him for bringing her friends to the manor. She has much more to thank him for, given that he saved her life from the damage of that fall. And now she's worried that he's not going to talk to her when he comes home anyway.

Have they gone too far?

Hermione glances at the dining room door for the umpteenth time. Where is he? This is the third dinner he's missed, and she hasn't seen him in the manor at all. There's a pit in her stomach that she feels is familiar. Faintly so, but...It's like when she saw Ron and Lavender snog for the first time. The squeezing around her lungs. The way her heart sank down to the depths of that pit. The only way she can describe that emotional pain is with one word.

Rejection.

Is that what's happening? Is he rejecting her?

Could it really be that simple? Had he gotten what he wanted out of her, and now he wasn't coming around purely because he'd promised not to kill her? The thought makes her feel sick and naïve. Was Malfoy that good at tricking her? He'd told her several times he didn't care about her, but she had convinced herself it was just him trying to hide his emotions with Occlumency and cruelty. Was she really such a fool?

Maybe she was. After all, he wasn't Ron. He wasn't a man who she'd ever trusted.

Why would it be any different now?

"Hermione?"

She jolts from her dejected reverie, glancing across the table. Tillian is eyeing her with concern.

"Are you all right?"

"What? Me?" Hermione lets out a small laugh. "Oh, I'm fine. What were you saying?"

"We were just wondering if Malfoy ever lets you go outside? I saw a garden out back, beyond the greenhouse."

"We also wanted to see about the hedge mazes," Faye says from beside Hermione, sounding hopeful. "I really want to go check them out."

"Well. I can't. But you can."

"What?" Tillian gives her a bewildered grin. "Why not?"

Hermione opens her mouth, hesitating. She can't tell them it's because the Dark Lord believes she's a tortured slave who remains trapped in a cell. If anyone has their eye on the manor, then spotting Hermione outside would be a death sentence. Her friends, however, don't have anything to worry about. They're just former students who happen to live at the manor now, as far as anyone else is concerned.