Six months.
It had been six months since Harry died and Voldemort won.
It had been six months since everyone that wasn't a Death Eater or related to one, was enslaved by them.
It had been six months since she had gone missing from the Wizarding World.
It had been six months since he had saved her, and hid her from the horrors of the world in his manor.
But it had been four years since she had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy.
And it had been two years since they got into a secret relationship.
November was a cold and unforgiving month. She did not have a room of her own, but his room was more than enough for her.
He was hiding her from everyone.
The Death Eaters.
Voldemort.
His parents.
He would not let anyone have her. She was his and he, hers. It would stay that way until the end of time.
The meeting she knew was happening downstairs did nothing to warm the chill in her bones. It didn't help that every time he was summoned there for a meeting, she worried for him.
Was this the day Voldemort would figure out what he had been hiding upstairs for the past six months? Was this the day he would finally figure out that one of his loyal followers had a Mudblood whoring herself out to him for the past two years?
A Death Eater's whore...
She felt disgusted with herself that she found a certain pleasure in calling herself that. But it was true.
She was a Death Eater's whore. His whore. And the term made her wet just thinking about it.
But if Voldemort ever found out, he would be dead in a second. She was certain of it, and the thought of him being gone made her want to die.
Every time he was called down for a meeting, she worried that would be the last time she would see him. He kissed her like his life depended on it before he put his mask on and walked out of the room.
She thought it was silly that they had to wear their uniforms at their meetings. Did Voldemort not know he had the room filled with his loyal followers?
The boom of laughter downstairs startled her out of her thoughts. She sat at his window seat, staring out onto the manor grounds. Though she could barely see anything due to the rain that was pouring down, and the thick fog that accompanied it.
It was freezing in his room. She hadn't lit the fireplace because she preferred to be cold. He did too.
She had one of his dress shirts on with a pair of knickers. The sleeves hung loosely off of her wrists, and just enough buttons were undone to expose her cleavage.
Hermione hugged her knees to her chest and sighed. It was torture waiting for him to come back.
And as if he heard her thoughts, she felt the wards on the room coming down. Hermione got up defensively; instinctively reaching for a wand that she didn't have.
Draco stormed into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. She was going to scold him for drawing attention to his room by how loud the slam was, but she was silenced when he strode across the room, lifted her by the waist, and threw her on the bed.
Her dangling legs opened involuntarily as he approached her to stand in between them. She tried to not look frightened as he leaned over her. His silver and black Death Eater mask and dark clothing reminded her of the terrible people downstairs.
