The Sweetest Sin

"I thought you were a dumb brute. I could have forgiven you if you were a dumb brute." - Briseis, Troy

Chapter 19: Forbidden Desires

After Hermione had realised what was carved into the top button of her newest gift from Draco, she had promptly brought out the other robes and checked all their top buttons. Sure enough, a similar flower was cut into every one of them. The reason for this, Hermione assumed, was surely because these beautiful garments had once belonged to Iris herself.

The idea of wearing a deceased witch's clothing had at first unnerved Hermione. However, curiosity had eventually begun to overcome her discomfort, and now she was burning to know why Draco had wanted her to discover that she was wearing Iris' old robes as she pushed open the door to her room and prepared to go upstairs for her meeting with him.

Hermione took the steps two at a time as she ascended the stairs. Not only was she eager to find out more about the robes, but she also wanted to confront Draco about what had happened two nights ago. Although, admittedly, the whole situation was quite embarrassing, Hermione needed to know what would happen to them now. Would their relationship as employer and employee (or, as he phrased it, "master and slave") change in any way?

When Hermione entered the dimly lit room, she found it almost exactly as she remembered. The only difference was that the many crimson candles had been replaced by pale blue replicas. All but the rose-shaped one, which was, surprisingly, still the same as it had been months earlier. Hermione had the faint suspicion that it was magic that had prevented the candle from melting away long ago.

Because Draco had not yet arrived, Hermione sat down on the bed. She winced as she did so, for instantly painful memories came back to her. Trying to push them out of her mind, she began nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. She did not know what to expect; did Draco want her here to discuss what had happened between them on the rooftop, or was it something else?

"Hello."

Hermione looked up at the sound of Draco's voice. There he was, standing before her wearing the same plain black robes he wore everyday. His hair hung loosely around his face and he looked tired as he closed the door behind him, walked over to Hermione, and conjured a chair upon which he sat.

For several minutes, the two stared at each other in silence. Hermione couldn't help but note that it was very much unlike their first meeting; back then, Draco had not missed an opportunity to hurt her both physically and verbally. He had acted like a man without a heart, like all of the other purebloods Hermione had worked for. Now, Draco looked drained, as if he couldn't even muster up the energy to throw an insult at Hermione.

"About the...other night --"

"That shouldn't have happened," blurted out Hermione. She blushed furiously, shut her mouth, and returned to gazing at Draco in silence.

To her surprise, Draco shrugged. "I don't know anymore," he said dully.

"What do you mean you don't know?!" cried Hermione. "It's obvious, isn't it? We kissed. We shouldn't have. We're two people who hate each other, two people who will never be together. Can we just put it behind us?"

"Don't assume you know how I feel."

"You -- what?"

"When I look at you...it's so hard to...I can't describe it. You're so much like Iris. Not just in appearance, but in spirit. Like you, she was strong, stubborn, and passionate about what she believed in, but at the same time, she was so vulnerable. Just like you."

"But that doesn't mean you're attracted to me, right?! Because that could never work. I mean...you aren't. And you told me that I shouldn't let anyone know about --"

"Do you really believe I don't have feelings for you in any way after everything I have done?"

"Everything you've done?!" burst out Hermione angrily. She was suddenly on her feet. "Like what? Slap me? Tell me I'm worthless, that I have no rights as a human? Rape me? Oh please. Those are hardly the actions of one in love."

"Sit down."

The words were not said in anger. They were not loud nor were they forceful, but somehow Hermione felt obligated to follow them, so she sat down immediately. Though she was still fuming at the lack of logic behind his words, she listened to what he said next.

"Do you think, when I saw you that first day, that I wanted to fall in love with you? When I saw the similarities between you and her, do you think I told myself to love you? No, shockingly enough, I thought just the opposite. I knew it was only because I instantly drew so many parallels between the two of you that I was harbouring such feelings. So what did I do? I treated you just like any other Mudblood to get rid of them."

Hermione's insides suddenly began squirming uncomfortably. She had a horrible feeling about where Draco was going next...

"And yet I couldn't stop myself from giving you her old robes, because even though it was so painful and terrible seeing her in your every movement, I hungered for it. I lusted after the idea of having her back, even through someone like you. Many times I had to stop myself from grabbing you and kissing you. That time I asked you who...who raped you, I didn't mean to make such a big deal out of it.

"I -- I didn't mean to force you into bed. I was drunk, I was upset, and I couldn't control myself that night. And when I looked at you, I could have sworn you were Iris."

"And do you think that's good enough to justify what you did?"

"No," he said, and Hermione sensed that he was being honest for the remorse in his tone was evident.

"So you loved me because you saw her in me," she whispered, repeating what she had said to Pansy.

"Yes and no," replied Draco, his head bowed. Hermione could detect the faintest of quivers in his voice now. "At first, that was true. But then as your time here passed, my feelings towards you started to change. I still recognised you and her as strikingly similar, but...I started to see you in a different light. I started noting differences...your ability to accept almost any person as an equal, for one. I found it intriguing that after all the pain you had endured, you were still able to see the good in someone."

"Malfoy, what are you trying to tell me?"

"I don't even know!" he said, his voice rising for the first time that evening. "I've been trying to find an answer. I've spent all the time I can, trying to figure out what's going on inside me and trying to learn more about you. Ever since that first night, I've watched you in your sleep every night to see if I might find a hint of what it is that plagues your dreams. You haven't opened up to me yet so I don't even know what it is about you I want." He let out a low growl as if frustrated with his inability to figure himself out, then added, "But...I need to tell you now because I have to let you know."

Desperate to get to the point, Hermione blurted out, "Do you love me or not?"

The silence that ensued was deafening. Hermione could have sworn she heard the sputtering and hissing of the candle flames as she waited for Draco's response. Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears, louder than she could ever remember.

"I've tried so long to push my feelings aside that I don't even know anymore."

Hermione stared at him despairingly. "Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Because I need you to know the full story!" Draco exclaimed savagely. He ran a hand through his loose strands of hair in frustration. "It's not exactly a secret after last night. And I thought...maybe...somehow I could find an answer to this through explaining everything to you."

Hermione continued to stare at Draco. "And here I was, thinking you were incapable of love," she murmured softly.

"I'm not," he growled. Then he added more gently, "It's just that...after Iris I never had a full heart to love with anymore."

Sighing, Hermione looked down at the ground. "You can't even begin to imagine what it's like to be held down by the kinds of people you hate. Dumb brutes who don't know the first thing about what it's like to treat someone else as your equal. I forgot how to love after years around people who never knew what the word even meant."

"And those people...I'm just like them. I'm one of those people you're describing."

"No," Hermione said instantly, looking up at Draco again, "you're not. You're...different. You're so strong. You've endured so much. You saved me from your friends."

"Funny how that works out," replied Draco without a hint of humour in his voice. "You hate me, don't you?"

Hermione blinked, for the question had been unexpected. "I...do," she said slowly, then hastened to add, "I may hate you for the way you treat other people, and I may hate you for what you are, what you've done, and how much you've hurt me, but I admire you because you're so brave."

Draco winced at her words. "Don't say that," he said. "If I had been brave, I would have saved Iris from her plight. But all I could bring myself to do was stand there and watch, because I was afraid of the Dark Lord's wrath." He hung his head in shame. "I'm not brave."

"But you were brave enough to tell me all of this."

Draco nodded slowly. "I'd rather you know how I feel. I'm tired of lying."

Hermione laughed hollowly, not because the situation was humourous, but because it was hopeless. She despised Draco and he looked down upon her, yet some level of need had been forged between them without their consent. Still, they could not be together, for marriages between purebloods and Muggle-born slaves were, though legal, certainly not an act held in a positive light by Voldemort's wizarding world.

"So what do we do now?" asked Hermione softly.

In response, Draco smirked. He waved a hand carelessly and the candles behind them suddenly seemed to dim. The room darkened noticeably. "Well..."

Hermione suddenly realised what he was implying. She barely had time to whisper, "Malfoy...no..." before she felt his hands on her elbows, pulling her into a standing position.

"Call me Draco," he murmured into her ear.

Hermione shivered at the feel of his breath on her skin. The now-familiar warm, tingling sensation was beginning to spread from the points of contact between her and him throughout her body; her knees began to shake and she found herself clutching Draco's arms tightly to keep herself upright.

"Stop...we can't do this..." she feebly insisted, trying to disentangle herself from his arms. However, her body strongly resisted what her mind was telling it to do and she had no choice but to let herself succumb to the moment.

Draco brushed his hand across her cheek, and Hermione flinched. She drew away sharply from his fingers, recalling that the only other times she had been touched in such an intimate way were when her owners had been about to rape her. Draco seemed to apprehend her sensitivity and lowered his hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her closer to him. "I forgot...But I can't help myself..."

Aside from his earlier confession, Hermione couldn't remember ever hearing Draco admit that he had no control over his actions, and this more than anything tore away at her reluctance to let herself be his physically. If he truly wanted her...and deep down inside she knew she wanted him too...but at the same time, they couldn't...she couldn't risk the chance that their intimacy might escalate into something worse, much worse...

Hermione had another futile attempt to push Draco away, but her resolve was steadily dissolving. It's just a bit of kissing...

Before she could bring herself to say anything, Draco's lips met hers and every disapproving voice in her head faded away. The kiss was at first reluctant, but soon became thick with long-suppressed passion. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and returned it. His scent filled her nostrils and sent her mind into a series of dizzying spins; then, they broke apart, both gasping for air.

Before she knew it, he had pressed his lips against hers again and she once again lost the ability to grasp any logical thought that might have stopped her. The feel of their bodies molded together and the taste of the kiss were both so right: sweet and bitter at the same time, but perfect all the same. She had never been kissed in such a way; it was as if it was their last minute together.

Draco then pulled his lips away from hers and began to trail them slowly along her jaw line then down to her neck. Hermione's breathing became irregular as she struggled to hold back a moan; never before had she been caught in the heat of such passion. It wasn't in her character to let lust overcome her senses, but at this moment, nothing mattered more than the heat of his breath on her skin, the electricity that was coursing through her veins...

And suddenly, alarm bells began ringing in the back of her mind. His hands had begun roaming up and down her body without her noticing. Her robe had somehow fallen to the ground in the process of their kiss, and she could suddenly feel his fingers tracing patterns lightly across her lower back. He was setting her skin on fire with his very touch, but...

"No," she gasped, jerking away. It had gone too far; she should have trusted her instincts when they told her something like this would eventually happen.

"Hermione?" asked Draco questioningly. He pulled away and looked at her, his eyes glazed over with lust but also dark with concern.

"This never would have worked anyway," she muttered distractedly as she searched the floor for her robe, trying to see through the darkness. She found it, and hurriedly pulled it on before looking up at Draco. Tears glimmered in her eyes as she said, "I'm sorry, I can't handle it."

To Hermione's amazement, Draco quickly replied, "I understand."

"You do?" she asked, relieved.

"Yes. You're right. We need to...we need to stay away from each other." He too looked relieved that their kissing session had been interrupted.

Hermione nodded silently. He was right; it would be better for them to keep a good distance apart. Not only was it far too dangerous to let any sort of romantic relationship develop between them, she didn't want one to. She didn't want to give her heart to someone like him, someone who had broken the hearts and spirits of so many others before her, someone who had broken her heart and nearly destroyed her spirit. Yet somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was too late to prevent that from happening, and now the only way to quell any sort of growing -- and she hated to use the word even though she knew it was true -- affair between them was for them to continue acting as servant and owner.

But now that I've nearly come to terms with my feelings, I don't know if I can go on doing that.

"I should go now," she sighed, fixing her eyes on the dying flame of a candle behind Draco.

"Yeah," he muttered. "But before you leave, I have something to tell you. Pansy will be holding a sort of banquet here next Sunday, and I was wondering if you'd like to attend it."

Hermione blinked, surprised. Her, attend a banquet for purebloods only? "I -- I don't know," she stammered.

"You wouldn't need to dress up or anything, you have Iris' robe," he continued hurriedly. "It was simply a suggestion."

"But wouldn't they not want someone like me" -- she paused, frowned, then continued -- "mingling with them?"

"They wouldn't have to know," replied Draco quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just...nevermind."

Tired and overwhelmed by the night's events, Hermione didn't press the matter. Instead, she returned to the subject of the banquet. "It's just that I'd feel a bit awkward amongst...Death Eaters."

Draco sighed. "Fine," he said slowly. Hermione, however, could easily tell that he was trying to mask the coldness in his voice, and it upset her.

"I haven't decided yet, I don't --"

"It doesn't matter," he said stiffly, cutting her off. "Go now."

It was more of a command than a request, so Hermione turned away. Just as she was about to walk away, she felt Draco's hand on her shoulder. She shivered, resisting the urge to lean into his touch, then forced herself to pull away, push open the door, and leave the room. It was not until she was downstairs again that she realised she had forgotten to ask about Thomas.