Against the Odds

Chapter 5

Another month had passed, and Hermione was still hiding in her room. The silence between them had stretched into a suffocating barrier, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. His daily routine was a ghost of normalcy—sending flowers, leaving gifts, continuing his work. But all of it felt pointless when he couldn't reach her, couldn't break through the wall she had built around herself.

She avoided him at every turn, locking herself away in her room like a prisoner of her own mind. His patience had been tested, stretched thin with each passing day, but he tried to respect her space, waiting for her to come to him. But deep down, the waiting was torture. He didn't know how long he could go on like this, pretending everything was fine when his heart was breaking.

Then, one night, as he sat at his desk, quill in hand and writing something for work, he heard the door creak open. At first, he thought he had imagined it—Hermione hadn't willingly stepped foot in his room since their marriage. But when he looked up, there she was, standing in the doorway. Her face was pale, her eyes hard, but beneath the stoic mask, Draco saw a storm of emotions brewing.

"Hermione," he said softly, surprised. "You're—"

"Malfoy," she interrupted, her voice cold and clipped. "We're going to have sex now."

He blinked, thrown off balance by the bluntness of her words. His hand froze mid-sentence, the quill slipping from his grasp. "What?"

"We're going to have sex. Now." She repeated the words with such stark finality that it sent a jolt of confusion and dread through him.

"Hermione, this isn't—this isn't how it's supposed to be," he stammered, his mind racing to catch up with what was happening.

Without warning, she climbed onto his desk, pushing papers and ink pots aside with her elbows. She lay belly down, lifting the hem of her dress over her thighs in a swift, defiant motion. "Just don't touch me," she said flatly. "Do your thing. And leave me alone."

Draco's breath caught in his throat, his body frozen with shock and disbelief. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be like this. "Hermione..." he started, but the pleading in his voice went unheard.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, her voice biting. "Just do it."

He stood abruptly, moving toward her but keeping his distance, his heart pounding in his chest. "Stop. Don't do this. Please, don't... degrade yourself like this."

"Just get it over with, Malfoy," she spat, her face turned away from him, her shoulders stiff with tension. "You know we have to. Just get it done."

His hands curled into fists, his knuckles white as he fought the growing frustration and anguish inside him. How did it come to this? He had expected distance, yes. He had even braced himself for anger and resentment. But this—this cold detachment, this raw, self-loathing display—was too much to bear.

"No," he said firmly, his voice filled with a quiet rage he hadn't known was there. "I won't."

"Just—" she started again, but Draco cut her off with a sharp movement. He grabbed her by the arms—not hard, but enough to pull her off the desk, flipping her over so she was sitting on the edge, her legs dangling.

"Don't ever do this again," he growled, his eyes blazing with emotion. "Do you hear me? I am not going to rape you."

Her face twisted with frustration, her lips quivering. "Just do it already!" she screamed, tears brimming in her eyes. "It's what we're supposed to do! What you want, isn't it?"