The Sweetest Sin

Chapter 5: No Amount of Pressure

Hermione blinked, unsure as to whether or not she had heard right. When she saw that Draco was going to make no move toward her for the moment, she let her muscles relax a little bit.

"What...what do you mean, catch up on old times?" she asked, confused.

"Exactly what I said," Draco replied. "I haven't seen you since our days at Hogwarts and I think some reminiscing is in order." He said these words so calmly and matter-of-factly that Hermione had a hard time believing the truth behind them at first. However, she soon realised that he was, despite her distrust, serious about what he was saying.

"And just why would you want to do that?" she asked, relief coursing through her. Now that she was certain that he wasn't going to hurt her or, even worse, rape her, she once again had the courage to speak her thoughts.

He sighed and answered, "I do believe I told you not to question my intentions. Now you can either sit down and take my generosity courteously or continue to stand there and impudently argue with me."

Hermione bit her lip because she knew he spoke the truth. She was perfectly aware that he was being far more kind than he should have been, so she sat down obediently on the four-poster bed which lay hidden by shadows against the west wall. All the while, her eyes remained downcast, partly because of her uneasiness and partly because she was afraid that if she looked up, she would see the red slits of the snake in place of Draco's eyes.

"So, Granger," he murmured.

She heard him start walking again, and soon saw the jet-black tops of his polished shoes stop a few inches away from her.

"Three years is much longer than one would think. Tell me, how has your life been since I last saw you at our graduation?"

Hermione blushed at the cruelty of his question; she was certain that he was only asking her because he knew reliving the past would be painful for her. I hate him, she thought angrily. Out loud, she responded in a mumble, "Good."

"Good? Is that so? Because I was under the impression that you had a rather rough time with your previous masters. But I could be mistaken." He laughed softly.

"It's not my fault I got stuck with bastards every time," Hermione shot back furiously. "But then again, there's not a very high probability that I will ever find an employer who will be in any way dignified and kind."

Draco clucked his tongue. "With that attitude, I'm not surprised that only the lowest of our kind would want you as their slave."

"I'm not a slave," Hermione replied, saying the words slowly through gritted teeth. She was seething with anger, and it was taking all of her energy to keep herself in check.

"You are," he replied calmly. "Obviously, you haven't changed very much since I last saw you. You're the same stubborn and proud witch. Perhaps too stubborn and proud to accept the pathetic side of your situation. You're a dirty slave. The lowest step of the social ladder, the most disgusting race in this world."

Without thinking, Hermione stood up and glared at Draco. Her dark brown eyes shot daggers into his light grey ones as she replied, "And is your kind any better than ours? At least muggle-borns have pride. We may be treated like grime on a clean kitchen floor, but we have the dignity to treat everyone equally, whether they be our superiors or inferiors. I can't say the same for you and the rest of the purebloods."

Instead of backing away, Draco stood his ground. He was unfazed by Hermione's sudden outburst; in fact, he had been expecting, maybe even provoking, it. In response, he said, "Pride? Tell me, what have you to be proud about? Do you enjoy the fact that you would be sleeping in a pile of rubbish with a flea-bitten mutt lying next to you if it wasn't for me?"

Her fists clenched at her sides. Furiously, she answered, "I think the mutt would be preferable to you."

Draco chuckled quietly. "Are you suggesting that you would like to sleep with me? My my, aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves."

Hermione's already-flushed cheeks burned even more with embarrassment. "I would rather sleep with a flobberworm. Of course, the man who I've had the misfortune to be taken into bed with could be compared to one, so it would be nothing new. It's funny how you purebloods consider yourself the highest of society, yet you take pleasure in raping a filthy little mudblood. I see no respect for others that would give you reason to boast about your status."

Raising an eyebrow, Draco quietly answered, "I have no reason to treat you or anyone else of your caliber with respect."

"And do we have reason to treat your kind with such respect?"

At this, Draco was, for the first time that evening, taken aback. No answer came immediately to his mind, so he simply stood there and stared at her for a moment. Finally, the light in his eyes flickered out to be replaced by a cold glare. "That's enough," he said, his voice hard. "Don't argue me, or you'll find yourself wishing you didn't."

Hermione shut her mouth. She now realised what she had done, and quickly sat back down on the bed. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her fired-up nerves.

"Look at me," Draco suddenly said, his voice sounding oddly choked. Instead of waiting for her to lift her head up, he crouched down and roughly pulled her head back so that her eyes were once again staring straight into his. "Who did it?"

She gazed back at him, not understanding what he was asking. "Who did what?" she whimpered as he gripped her hair more tightly, causing tears of pain to spring to her eyes.

"Who raped you?"

Hermione was so shocked by his question that she stopped struggling against his death-grip on her hair. "What did you say?" she whispered, her eyes widening.

"You heard me the first time. Tell me."

Fearfully, Hermione shook her head. I don't know what the hell he's trying to do, but I'm not going to tell him, she firmly thought as she tried to avoid the intensity of his icy gaze. It's not...it's not his position to know. I don't understand why he would care anyway.

"Tell me right now," he hissed, his face now centimetres away from hers. They were so close that if Hermione tried to inhale, their lips would probably make contact. His eyes were flashing dangerously as he threateningly tightened his hold on her locks even more.

"I can't tell you," Hermione said, her voice cracking under the strain of having her head pulled so far back. "I...can't..."

Draco narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, the creaking open of a door was heard from downstairs and Pansy's voice drifted up from the main floor, calling for her husband, announced that the rest of the family was home. Surprised, Draco released his grasp and straightened up. Hermione immediately started gasping for breath and rubbing her scalp.

"We will resume our first conversation another time. And you will tell me someday," Draco said quietly before he turned around, left the room, and descended the stairs to greet his wife and children.

Hermione slumped back against the wall as she watched Draco's retreating form. When she could no longer hear his footsteps echoing in the hall, she turned her eyes toward the same candle he had stopped in front of earlier.

What does he want with me? she wondered as she watched the dancing flame flicker and nearly go out as a gentle, barely-there breeze drifted in through the open window. If he doesn't care, why did he ask?

"Mudblood, come down here!"

Hermione groaned. She shakily got to her feet, cast one last glance around the room, then trudged downstairs. When she arrived at the foot of the stairs, she was relieved to find that Draco wasn't there. Only Pansy, Tommy, Kathryn, and the butler Bingley stood in the hall.

"Yes?" she asked as politely as she could.

"Take the children upstairs and prepare them for bed," said Pansy carelessly as she shrugged off her outer coat and called for a maid to take it. "Their nanny is taking leave this week, so you will be in charge of them."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Why is she leaving?"

"Don't ask questions," Pansy replied irritably. "Just do it." She then turned around and walked up the staircase across from the one Hermione stood by.

Nodding, Hermione gestured for the kids to follow her up the stairs. Silently, she ascended them with Kathryn skipping after her and Tommy trailing behind. The moment she reached the top of the staircase, she heard a thump and a wail from behind her. Whipping around, she saw Tommy lying at the bottom of the stairs, holding his right wrist in his left hand and moaning piteously.

Gasping, Hermione hurried down the stairs. She crouched down by the little boy's side and gingerly took his wrist. To her relief, there was only a small bruise.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly as Kathryn arrived, panting, at her side.

"Nothing," Tommy grumbled, wrenching his arm out of Hermione's grasp. "Don't touch me."

Hermione was taken aback at the harsh words. Recovering, she shrugged and looked at Kathryn helplessly. The little girl stared back at her with wide eyes, then turned to her brother and started asking him if he was okay. With another glare at Hermione, Tommy began dramatically telling Kathryn about how Hermione had cursed him while he wasn't looking and made him fall down the stairs.

As she watched Tommy wave his hands around wildly and Kathryn lean forward in awe, Hermione leaned against the staircase railing and sighed deeply. This is going to be a very long week...