Sweet Sacrifice

Chapter 5. Her Weakness

Hermione's PoV

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Day One hundred seventy five

It is a weird feeling, having an out-of-body experience. But it is exactly what I am feeling as I float somewhere up above in a crystal blue sky. Down below, I watch as Tom leans over my body - which is laying spread eagle on the ground. My vacant eyes are open and expressionless, just staring up into the sky... and into me. It sends a quiver down my spine to see myself lying there, dead.

Tom places a finger up to my lips, wiping off a small trickle of blood from my mouth. He touches his bloodied finger up to his own lips, tasting it as if it was something sweet and delicious. He leans over to kiss me on the lips - thus staining them a deep shade of blood red. Tom pulls away, his head still looking down at my lifeless form. His clothes are completely bloody from the contact between him and me. It is then that I can see myself fully: There is a pool of blood around my middle, slowly pooling on the ground next to me. My clothes are stained a deep crimson color as I continue to bleed out from the wounds.

I feel a sharp pain in my stomach as I am jolted awake - away from my lifeless body lying below, away from watching Tom as he kisses my cold lips again. I slowly open my eyes; Tom is watching over me, giving me a mocking little grin that thoroughly irritates me.

"Wake up, Hermione," he breathes.

As I look up at him, I see he has a bottle of something red in one hand and a small knife in the other. Pain in the palm of my hand shows me where he just cut me. The blood from it stains my sheets. I scowl at him.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" I holler, while trying to wrap my injured hand inside the sheets to stem the hemorrhaging.

"Blood has important uses in Dark magic," he notes. "Even Muggle-born filth like you has blood worthy of using."

"You gave me that nightmare, didn't you?" I demand, wincing slightly.

"No," he replies casually. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't cause nightmares, Hermione. One creates nightmares within his or her own mind. I merely cut your hand. You supplied the nightmare yourself."

He, completely uninvited to do so, sits himself down on the side of the bed, looking at me while pursing his thin lips together. Grabbing my hand, he slowly unwraps the bloodied sheets and inspects my hand. Without saying a word, he pulls out his wand and waves it over my palm. The deep cut from it vanishes.

"I very well can't have my storyteller injured now, can I?" he utters before he leaves the room.

I am not a believer in Divination, but right now, I think of how they have often say that most dreams - like mine - are meant to warn people before something bad happens. If this dream is any indication of the future, it seems clear: I am going to die. Feeling rather numb, I lie on the bed, contemplating how my life may very well end soon and this plan to stop Tom may have been all for nothing.

~*~

It has been almost two hundred days since I was brought here, and in that time, the days have come and gone in an absolute blur. Just because I have survived this long with him does not make me feel invincible. On the contrary, I have to wonder what it is he is hiding up those sleeves of his - and how exactly it concerns me. Yet there is a part of me grateful that nothing has happened yet, as I get a sense of solace knowing that I have saved the lives of almost two hundred women so far. Knowing this fact drives me to be more inventive in my storytelling so that Tom will never lose interest in them... or me. Lest I want that nightmare to come true as it still deeply troubles me. Nor do I want other innocent women to find themselves trapped in this situation.

Sitting myself on the edge of his bed, I prepare to tell Tom the rest of my story. There is a heaviness in the pit of my stomach as I look upon his glinting eyes and at the corners of his mouth - which are tugging up slightly into a malevolent smirk. It may be faint, but I know it's there. The appearance of it fills me with dread. He pulls closer to me, my heart racing with every inch he moves toward me. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, I can't help but feel slightly attracted by his handsome features, but they mustn't blind me. I move further away, down to the edge of his bed, clearing my throat before I try beginning the rest of my story. However, as I open my mouth to speak, he leans over on top of me, kissing me on the mouth. My mind begins to race as he pulls away, his green eyes staring down at me - hungry for more. He licks his lips as he leans down to kiss me again. As he deepens the kiss, I slowly feel myself begin to kiss him back - against my better judgment. Our tongues touch and entwine around each other as my body begins to lose control. My instincts are telling me to pull away, but a small part of me is enjoying this kiss - perhaps a little too much. We continue on, the only sound to escape our mouths is the occasional soft moan here and there.

My instincts are blaring loudly to me as his hands crawl all over my body, touching my chest, my hips, my thighs. Tom pins me down on the bed as I continue to kiss him, my body screaming to continue, but I must stop.... I know what will happen if I don't pull away now.... In just a few moments, he has become my weakness.

But I never get the chance to pull away as I suddenly feel my mind become hazy as Tom softly mutters the word "Imperio!" on my lips. "Just so you can't go anywhere, my little story teller."

In an instant, all worries and concerns leave my now fuzzy mind, and I am left completely and utterly at ease. When he finally pulls away from his infectious kiss, we are both breathless. He sits up, pulling me up with him. His voice speaks up in my head: Take off your clothes. I willingly oblige, as I have no control over my own body anymore.

After a few measly moments pass, I lie on the bed next to him, naked. Tom tells me to come closer to him, and I fall into his now outstretched arms. He gently takes my legs and wraps them around his middle, all the while positioning my arms to his sides, as if I am his personal doll. My skin tingles wherever he touches me.

"I have given you no reason to not tell your story," he murmurs into my ear.