T R A I N E D T O S I N | dramione

Seventeen

Hermione's body was sticky with sweat and she had stuffed down the meal as quickly as her stomach would allow. She couldn't bare to be in her clothes any longer. They clung to her skin in a similar way that her hair clung to the damp sides of her face. And her jeans rubbed the backs of her knees where they bunched up.

She slid the tray back onto the dresser and quickly shot to her feet, already unbuttoning her jeans and hopping on one leg as she stumbled towards the bathroom. She discarded her jeans just outside of the door, kicking them blindly in the direction of the dresser as she tugged her shirt over her head.

The thin fabric clung to her face and when it finally came loose, she grimaced at the fact that it was almost sheer. It landed just next to the jeans and she discarded the rest of her clothes on the bathroom floor.

The shower sprung into motion and she fully submerged herself in the water, gliding her hands over her skin as it tumbled between her fingertips. She watched the path it took from pooling in the dip between her collarbones, to gliding elegantly down her stomach and caressing the small curve of her thigh.

She traced a new path with the delicate touch of her finger. Her skin prickled in response despite the searing heat of the water. She followed the stream down her sternum and across the small curve of her stomach. When she reached just below her navel she halted, finger paused against her skin as she watched the drops of water draw messy lines in the steamy glass in front of her.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she found herself surrounded in darkness. Not the hopeless dark like her time in the cell, a tranquil type and she briefly relished in it. But then she felt a hand that wasn't her own, glide along her stomach and the calm was broken.

A hand held her face, thumb on the corner of her mouth, distracting her from the rough edge of the tree pressing into her back.

Soft and eager lips were on hers, a thumb smoothing her cheek at the same pace as the kiss. Heat tore through her body like a wave and then just as quickly as the lips had appeared, they were gone.

There was a pressure on her neck, delicate kisses turning to bites as her leg was hitched upwards in a moment of pure desperation and she inhaled sharply. Mint.

Her eyes shot open and her hand was back at her side. She was met with the misted glass of the shower door and sighed, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair. It was strange to ever had been that close with the man who now held her prisoner.

Almost horrifying the fact she wanted more. She saw his pain and wanted to help him. Hermione scorned herself for ever thinking such things. Though she still remembered how he used to be. Couldn't shake the memories no matter how hard she tried.

She remembered the night in the library, his warning of war that she chose to ignore in a moment of ignorance. He had told her of their differences, the fact that they were at opposite ends of a battle.

It was almost ironic, how he had tried to keep them apart primarily because she was 'good' and he was not. Because two rivals could never be lovers. And now here she was, due to fight alongside him in the war he had tried to keep her from.

She hadn't expected him to help her. Not after she saw him in the hall upon her arrival. Not after he stared at her with such disgust, treated her like nothing.

Perhaps he would have killed her had Voldemort's plan not required her alive.

They had become strangers in a matter of minutes. From healing him outside their potions classroom, to watching him stand a hallway away from her when she was taken. He could saved her. He didn't.