Trigger Warning: Dub-con
Chapter Thirty-One
Hermione quickly realizes the necklace is a big problem.
At the end of the night, she tries to remove it before her bath. It won't come off. It's like the clasp is suddenly made of stone and no matter how much she fiddles with it, it won't budge. The necklace is very beautiful, there's no doubt, but she isn't sure she likes the idea of permanent jewelry.
She wonders if it's some sort of Malfoy family charm, something practical to keep the individual from losing the necklace. She's certain Malfoy can help her remove it when he gets home.
What odd behavior from him.
The next day, she takes breakfast with Tillian and Faye in the tearoom. Faye fawns all over the necklace, practically screeching in Hermione's ear about how romantic it is of Malfoy to give her a gift like that, while Hermione tries again and again to explain to Faye that there's no romance between her and Malfoy. She tries to focus on her food, but she's so preoccupied with thoughts of the necklace that she can't even take one bite. It's so light that she barely remembers it's around her neck, but she can't shake the feeling that there's something wrong. It just doesn't make sense for Malfoy to give her a gift. He's never done that before.
"Yesterday was so fun," Faye says around a mouthful of food. "We had a snowball fight with the House Elves. Let me tell you what, Pinky has a mean left hook."
"Pinky? Moe was the one to watch out for. I thought she was gonna knock my bloody teeth out!" Tillian says with a laugh.
"I saw that," Faye says, giggling. "Good thing it didn't bruise."
"All right, Hermione?" Tillian asks, his fork sliding out of his mouth. He chews his bite. "You look a bit ill."
"Yes, I..." She trails off, holding the emerald pendant between her fingers. "I'm just thinking about this necklace. It's not like Malfoy to give gifts."
"Well, who else could it be from?" Tillian asks with a frown.
"It belonged to his mother so it has to be from him, but it...It doesn't feel right."
"The necklace itself?"
Hermione shakes her head. "The situation."
Crack.
Faye screams at the top of her lungs. Hermione nearly drops her fork. Tillian rolls his eyes.
Malfoy's in the tearoom with them, his tall form seeming to take up the limited space between the table and the enchanted piano. His eyes are wild and bright, focused on Hermione. He's got rips in his clothes and he smells like blood, just like the last time he came from battling. This time, there's no scent of smoke, so she can tell he didn't leave in the heat of it. He likely snuck away.
"You two–out," he says, jamming his fingers anxiously through his hair. Orders it like they're soldiers.
Tillian and Faye give Hermione worried looks before they snatch up their plates and scramble out of the room, leaving her alone with Malfoy and the faintly-playing piano. Hermione opens her mouth to ask Malfoy about the necklace, but he cuts her off.
"Don't say a word," he says, and her mouth snaps shut immediately. "I'm fucking starved ."
Hermione feels his hands wrap around her waist, dragging her to her feet in her jumper and trousers. She manages to put one of her hands on his shoulders right as he grabs her other hand. Without preamble, he bites her wrist, fangs sinking deep and causing arousal to explode through her blood. She tries to say something, but it's like her tongue is tied into a knot. Like there's something wrapped around her throat. All she can do is sigh. If it weren't for his hand on her waist, she might have collapsed onto the tearoom's marble floor.
His feeding is ravenous, like he hasn't eaten in weeks. When she whimpers at the feeling of his tongue against the bite holes, he lifts her with one arm and sets her on the table. She gasps when he reaches behind her to sweep her plate, cup, and silverware onto the floor, where the porcelain and glass shatter. Her mind is spinning.
What is he doing ?
She cries out when he rips his mouth out of her wrist and slams her flat on the tabletop with his hand on her chest. Her blood drips down her forearm, into the crease of her elbow when she grabs onto the fabric of his shirt. As he reaches between them to yank her jumper up to her chest, standing between her legs, Hermione tries to ask him what's going on, but she can't. Nothing comes out except another gasp.
It's now when she glances down and sees several violent, wide gashes through the rips in his shirt. Blood still drips from them, soaking his shirt and the fabric on her leggings on her inner thighs. He's hurt. Which explains why he's here, drinking her blood so voraciously like this.
When he licks a stripe from the top of her belly button up to the skin between her breasts, she realizes things are getting confusing. His long fingers grab her waist and drag her closer, causing her jumper to lift even higher. His mouth covers the peak of her breast through her bra, sending lightning straight to her core. She cries out again, her back arching up into his mouth. His hands come up to her bra, tearing it down the center and then, before she realizes what's happening, he sinks his fangs into the swell of her breast.
She moans so loud, it echoes off the ceiling.
Hermione locks her ankles behind his hips, pulling him closer to her core so she can rub herself up against him. Her mind has gone blank, all the stars having gone out with the sting of his bite and the ensuing torrent of desire that's consuming her. Every roll of her hips has her panting, especially when his hands go to her hips and hold her in place so he can grind against her, too.
"Fuck," Malfoy hisses, his tongue stroking from the wound to her nipple and around in circles. "So good. Tastes so fucking good."
What the Hell is happening in the damn tearoom?!
She tries once again to speak but whatever's wrapped around her throat tightens, and words are arrested. Blocked from coming out. Her attempts at words come out as stammered moans interspersed with whines. Her heart sinks, tendrils of dread inching through her stomach, slicing through the delirium of the arousal.
Something's wrong with her. Something isn't right, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's barely speaking. He's just feeding. Drinking. Devouring.
The necklace won't let her disobey him.
Then, right as his fingers are tugging at the waistband of her leggings, he jerks away from her, clutching his forearm. She can't see beneath his long sleeves, but she knows what it is. She knows, and she can't help but feel relieved.
He's being summoned.
"Fuckin' Hell," he growls. "I've got to go."
Hermione lays there, her bare, bloody chest heaving as he gives her one last longing look and then, without another word, he Disapparates. She sits up slowly, pulling her jumper down gingerly over her wounded chest, her skin still singing with the ghost of his tongue. She holds the emerald pendant in her hand, her worry eclipsing any lingering arousal.
It can't possibly be from him. He would never do this to her. He would never make her unable to speak, unable to consent.
Would he?
-
Oh, Gods.
Hermione wakes with a painful vise clamping in her lower body, twisting and curling and pulling tight. She clutches her abdomen and rushes to the loo, where she sees blood on her thighs.
Her monthly.
She's almost surprised to see it. She lost her period months ago, while she was on the run with Parvati and the others. Food had been scarce, limited to what they could steal from Muggle shoppes. Then living in the pit, Blaise only fed them once per day.
One day, she'll have to hex him for that, and a jinx for every person that's still in the pits.
But now that she's at the manor, being fed whatever she wants whenever she wants, she's gotten healthier and healthier. She's got her curves back and while she loves the feeling of being able to grab parts of herself again...She's not happy about the period. She was sort-of enjoying not cramping.
After asking Pinky for some feminine products, Hermione puts on leggings and a jumper again, finding those to be the most comfortable for a time like this. She heads downstairs for breakfast.
As she makes her way down the corridor, she can't help but reach up to touch the necklace. Her blood is ice when she thinks of it, of what it does. She's got to find some way of telling him but there's a problem.
The necklace won't let her.
Every time she tried to tell Tillian and Faye that the necklace forced her to do what Malfoy told her to do, she couldn't. There were vines twisting around her throat so tight that she thought she might suffocate. She was forced to stop trying when it started to hurt. She even asked Pinky for parchment and quill, but when she tried to write the words, the quill snapped. After going through several quills, she realizes she's fucked.
She doesn't know how she's going to tell him, but she's going to have to try. If she can't speak it or write it, then her thoughts are the last hope she has.
The fear that fills her when she thinks of what could happen with a necklace like this is like being held underwater in a frigid sea. The things he could ask her to do while he's angry–the things she knows he usually says with sarcasm, or without meaning it–could be impossible to deny. They don't know each other well enough for her to be able to read the lines of his body, to know without a doubt when he wants something. How could he possibly know her body well enough to be able to glean when she's not consenting?
The only good fortune she has is that it doesn't seem to affect her when Tillian or Faye tell her to do something. Tillian had asked her to play wizard's chess with him and she'd been able to tell him that she was too tired to. Faye had asked her if she wanted to have a little sleepover, and Hermione was able to tell her the same thing–that she was tired. This means that there's a possibility the necklace is only activated by Malfoy, which is also suspicious.
A charmed or cursed necklace that forces her to obey one person and one person only? How could it be from anyone else other than that person?
Gods.
Would he really do this to her? Does he hate her that much? She doesn't want to believe it. In her heart of hearts, she thinks it might destroy her, but she doesn't want to. Malfoy isn't a monster. She saw how badly that day on the couch affected him, when he "showed her how the other Death Eaters would treat her." It doesn't make sense for him to go back on that just because he doesn't care about her. When she first arrived, he didn't care about her, either, and he never revoked her access to consent. He liked to hem and haw about it, to make her think she had no choice in things, but she did. He always gives her some sort of choice.
It just doesn't make sense.
In the dining room, Faye and Tillian are sitting beside each other, whispering and laughing. As Hermione enters, she sees Tillian bringing his hand to Faye's cheek and pulling her into a kiss, and it shines a little sunlight into Hermione's otherwise dreary thoughts. When he sees Hermione walking up, his smile is bright. It causes Faye to turn around with just as bright a grin.
"Morning, Hermione!" she cries. "How did you sleep?"
"I slept well," Hermione replies, taking her seat. Then, she gives them a mischievous look. "You two?"
They both blush and look down at their plates.
"We slept okay," Tillian says before taking a massive Ron-sized bite from his plate. "Just a late night."
"Oh, I'm sure."
Faye lets out a nervous laugh. "How was things with Malfoy, after we left the tearoom?"
Hermione grimaces, not wanting to tell them how it really went.
"It was...A situation. But nothing out of the ordinary for our toxic dynamic."
"And the dynamic is quite toxic," Faye says, wrinkling her nose over a smile.
"Very much so."
The two girls laugh, and then the three of them fall into easy conversation, reminiscing about things from their past. Hermione finds herself thinking wistfully about the world before, how she was able to balance her wizarding life and her Muggle life. Going home from Hogwarts to the telly and the shopping malls, and then back to school to Hogsmeade and the most beautiful library she'd ever seen. From her school family to her real family, school friends to neighborhood friends. Going out for things as simple as ice cream in London, or to the Weasley twins' joke shoppe to buy funny pranks.
She wonders–no, she knows that outside of the United Kingdom, a life like that still exists for the wizarding world. There's no Voldemort there, even if he's making valiant attempts to spread his darkness onto the mainland. There's tellies and ice cream and wizarding schools and all the shopping she could imagine. It's like a dream.
No wonder Malfoy's got so many reasons to use Occlumency. He sees death and causes death, and he has to do it in places that aren't tainted by the Dark Lord. He may not be stuck in the manor, but she imagines he's living in a cage, too.
The next few days pass by somewhat blissfully. When Tillian and Faye aren't outside playing in the snow, they relax in one of the manor's many sitting rooms, lounging on couches and chairs by a fire set by Pinky. Tillian and Faye play wizard's chess or some other game, and Hermione reads. She tries not to think about the necklace too much, but finds that the closer they get to the day Malfoy's supposed to return, the more nervous she gets. She lies awake at night, on the verge of tears thinking about what horrible things might happen. Wondering who could have given her this necklace, and if it was him. Terrified because if Malfoy is the one who gave it to her, then the tiny amount of hope she has that she's wrong about him not caring about her will be gone. Extinguished.
If that's the case, she doesn't know if she'll be able to keep herself from jumping.
There must be some way for her to tell him what's wrong with the necklace. There has to be. She can't just trust that he'll figure it out. Not with this.
Malfoy returns when they're eating supper, exactly one week from the day he first left. When he enters the dining room, he's wearing a black short-sleeved shirt and a pair of relaxed black trousers. His hair is damp from bathing, and his tattoos seem to stand out against the starkness of the black shirt. Her eyes find his immediately.
"Hi, Malfoy!" Faye says excitedly. "You're back!"
He eyes her warily, as he always does, but he responds in a gentle tone. "I am."
She scrambles out of her chair and around the table, surprising Hermione by the way she prances over to him. She slides her arms around his waist and gives him a hug, which he returns with one arm and the faintest of smiles. It brings equally faint smiles to Hermione and Tillian's lips.
"I missed you, Malfoy!" Faye says, skipping back to her seat, her long hair bouncing along with her. "You're just in time for breakfast."
Faye is too sweet for her own good.
Since Faye and Tillian are sitting beside each other, Malfoy takes the seat next to Hermione for the first time. She wants to look at him, to greet him, but she's too anxious. What if he's the person who gave her the necklace? What if he's the one that's trying to take away her consent?
"Hey," Tillian says, giving him a nod.
Malfoy nods to him, but doesn't say anything. He simply starts eating.
"So, anyway," Faye says, returning to what she was saying before, "I told him the professor wasn't going to let him do that, but he didn't believe me. Told me I didn't know what I was talking about. And guess what happened? Guess. Guess."
It takes a second for Hermione to realize Faye's looking directly at Malfoy. Malfoy finishes his bite, staring at Faye for a long moment.
"What happened?" he says eventually and he sounds so much like Snape that it makes the corners of Hermione's lips turn up.
"He failed the exam." Faye throws her hands up and shakes her head. "I told him he would fail it, but no . I'm a witch . He thought he knew more than me, but it was too bad for him, because I did ."
Tillian grins. "There were several times that I was bested by witches in class, Faye."
"Thank you." Faye grabs his face and plants a big kiss on his lips. "Someone sees reason."
"Hm," Malfoy says. "Sounds like a certain swot I knew."
Hermione glares at him, forgetting her fears for a second. "I was not a swot. I just did my studying like I was supposed to."
He takes a bite of his food, chewing slowly before saying, "You studied in the pursuit of royalty. I dare say you succeeded."
"Royalty?"
"By the time we were done with school, you were Hogwarts' Queen Swot."
Hermione smacks him on the arm as Faye falls into a fit of obnoxious giggles. Even Tillian hides a grin.
"Okay, King Prat. As if you weren't in the library just as much as me."
"Oh, I was." He sips his wine. "I was just a bit busier than you were."
Hermione narrows her eyes at him, mind working until it clicks. She gasps and hits him on the arm again.
"Railing Pansy Parkinson in the stacks is not studying."
"I did not rail anyone. What even is that?"
"Yes, you did. I heard it once."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did. I heard you railing her in the–"
"Stop saying railing!"
Faye and Tillian both start laughing, and Tillian says, "It's studying, all right."
Malfoy hides a smile in his next bite, and Hermione doesn't know whether to stare at his face, or keep fuming. There haven't been many times that she's seen him smile, and the last time she saw a genuine one was on the autumn morning that she still pines to go back to. This entire conversation gives her a much-yearned for taste of it. She can almost pretend this is how it's always going to be—the four of them, existing in harmony.
"What about you, Tillian?" she says, turning the focus onto her friend. "How were your marks?"
"Oh, Merlin." Tillian exhales audibly. "You don't wanna know."
"I wanna know!" Faye says with a pout. "What did you get on your O.W.L.S?"
As Tillian launches into a comprehensive breakdown of every mark he got for each O.W.L., Malfoy pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. He turns his head toward Hermione, and she looks up at him. His gaze searches her face, brows furrowing.
"What?" she says in a low tone.
"Are you hurt?" he murmurs.
Oh, dear. Oh, no.
"No," she says, her cheeks as hot as the sun. "I'm not hurt."
His eyes narrow a fraction. "Yes, you are."
"Do we need a repeat of this?" Hermione says, pushing a curl behind her ear. "The last time you thought I was hurt, you were wrong."
"Except that I wasn't. I smelled blood. I smell it now."
"It's your imagination."
"I don't have an imagination."
Hermione can't resist.
"You have a very active imagination, actually. So active, in fact, that you're able to create memories that never happened on the fly, and make them look real."
They glare at each other for a drawn-out moment, before they both wordlessly return to eating. They don't speak again, choosing instead to listen to Faye and Tillian talk and enjoy themselves. As they do, Hermione tries thinking about the necklace as much as she possibly can, hoping that Malfoy will be able to hear it in her thoughts. When everyone's done eating, Tillian and Faye announce that they're heading to the room with the fireplace that the three of them have been spending time in. Hermione starts to follow them, but Malfoy clears his throat.
"Granger. May I speak with you?"
Hermione promises to join her friends later, and then turns to look up at Malfoy, the bane of her eternal existence.
"What do you want?"
"I want to know where your wound is." His gaze traverses her body. "Because I can smell it."
"You're not smelling anything. It's in your head."
"No, it's not. If there's one thing I know, it's the smell of your blood."
Hermione opens her mouth to tell him, but finds that she doesn't want to. It's not that it's embarrassing, per se, but Malfoy is not someone that she looks at and thinks, yeah, this man knows about periods. She's sure he does, but...It's Malfoy .
"Oh."
She snaps out of her thoughts. "Huh?"
He taps two fingers to his temple. "Oh."
Her hands fly to her mouth with a gasp. She'd spent all evening trying to get him to hear her thoughts about the necklace, that she forgot he could hear all of her thoughts. Her face flames with mortification.
"Yes," she squeaks out, and then words come spilling out. Words he likely doesn't need to know. "It's my first one in a long time. I didn't expect it and to be honest it's been so long that I forgot about it. But I woke up this morning with the most horrid cramps, and–why are you looking at me like that?"
There's a gleam in his eye that she sees as he runs his tongue along his top teeth and fangs. It's a gleam she doesn't like. Something very disturbing. Very disturbing indeed.
"No reason," he says.
Hermione blinks.
"Absolutely not, Malfoy."
He takes a step toward her, the hint of a smirk dancing across his face. "Absolutely not, what? I don't know what you're talking about."
Flustered, Hermione holds up her hands and waves them both while shaking her head back and forth. " No, Malfoy . That's–I don't even know how to–you're repugnant."
"It's a replenishing source, Granger."
"What the–? Malfoy, that's disgusting !"
He takes another step toward her.
"Malfoy, I said no ."
He stops, tilting his head to the side. "Are you all right?"
At his words, she realizes that she's on the verge of hyperventilation. She's been thinking about the necklace, at the thought that her consent might be impossible, and hovering on the edge of panic.
"Can you...Can you hear my thoughts?" she whispers.
"Uh...Yeah?" He looks at her like she's grown thirty-seven heads.
"How about right now?" Hermione stares him directly in the eyes and thinks about the necklace as hard as she can.
"Well...No, actually." His brows twitch together. "Have you been working on Occlumency? How are you doing that without a wand?"
Hermione heaves a deflated sigh. "No. I haven't been working on Occlumency at all."
Malfoy watches her, studying her forlorn expression and tilts his head to the side. "Is something going on?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
She tries to tell him. She opens her mouth and tries to form the words. But the necklace won't let her. The vines twist tighter and tighter, forcing her to stop.
She's trapped.
"I'm just depressed," she says instead, because she is.
For a second, there's a flicker in his eyes behind the walls he's built there. The crack, opening by a fraction. He takes another step toward her, bringing him within millimeters of her. Hermione cranes her neck, seeing that the way he's looking at her is anything but cold. That he's allowing the crack to widen, to reveal some of his concern for her to survey.
He raises his hand, hesitating for a moment before he brings it to the side of her head, his fingers in her hair and his thumb against her cheek. His touch sears, heat spreading down her body. His eyes search hers, like he's digging for something that she doesn't understand. He swallows, seeming to struggle with what he wants to say.
"Don't hurt yourself again, Granger. Okay?"
This...
This makes her angry. Livid. After everything he's said to her, to make her feel unwanted, he wants to ask her not to jump? Fuck him. It's not like she can disobey that request, not with this stupid necklace. This necklace that he might have given to her.
She wrenches herself away from him, putting as much Hellfire into her glare as she possibly can.
"If I want comfort, I'll get it from my friends," she spits out, "You're not all I have anymore."
The expression on his face darkens, but she doesn't stay to see how else her words affect him. She turns and storms away, headed for the stairs. Whether he got the necklace for her or not, she still doesn't trust him. Not after the way he's hurt her.