You're Mine (Dramione)

|Sixteen|

The screams coming from enemy prisoners could be heard by anyone that wasn't in Hermione's room. Before Draco proceeded with anything dark and related to the many Death Eaters at the manor, he had placed dozens of wards on her room, along with a 'muffliato' to block out the screams of the victims and the various unforgivable curses being thrown around.

Hermione sighed in distress, stroking her baby bump. A healer came earlier, to run various tests on her and apparently, she was having a high risk pregnancy. Things like stress and fatigue would result in a miscarriage or stillbirth.
Hermione didn't like being in bedrest. She found it awfully boring, just lying in one place the entire day.
The door opened and Draco walked in, with a tray of food in his hand.
"I'm not hungry." She mumbled.
"You have to eat." Draco said firmly.
Draco stroked her chestnut hair affectionately. "I know you don't like living in these conditions-"
"Can I go-"
"Don't even think about asking me that." Draco growled, bringing out his hostile side once again.

"Please Draco." She pleaded.
"For fuck's sake Hermione... how many times have I told you, you aren't leaving the manor!" Hermione sighed; so much for trying.
Hermione couldn't help but stare at Draco's Dark Mark. Sometimes, it intrigued her and sometimes it scared her, because it reminded her of the war and all the misery that accompanied it. Hermione reached for it, like a curious child, but was stopped by Draco's hands wrapping around her wrist. "Don't. Touch. It!" Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

"Why not?" Hermione whispered. "Just don't." He muttered.

Hermione hated it when Draco was secretive. She had trusted him with most of her deepest, darkest secrets, yet he was still reluctant to trust her with his secrets.
"I hate it when you hide things from me." Hermione blurted out, causing Draco to stiffen. "What are you on about?"
Hermione exhaled sharply. "Don't you trust me?" Draco frown. "I do, Mione. It's just..." He trailed off.

Hermione huffed. Just as she suspected, Draco had zero trust for her. The fact that the person she deeply adored didn't fully trust her just broke her heart.
Hermione squeezed his hands affectionately. "You can tell me anything Draco, I would never judge you."

Draco released a humourless chuckle. "You can judge me all you want, I wouldn't really give a fuck. If I show you the skeletons I keep in my closet... you would question my sanity." There was a brief flash of something in Draco's eyes that Hermione couldn't really put her finger on. Fear? Draco wasn't the kind to show fear in any form.
•~•
Sighing with boredom, Hermione flipped through a book she had previously regarded as interesting. Hermione desperately wanted to go to her room, hell to any room, just to rest her aching body.
"Draco, where the hell are you?" She mumbled to herself, the absence of her platinum blonde lover deeply aggravating her. Draco had told his pregnant wife that he was going out to 'deal with some business'. For some reason, when he said that, a feeling of dread washed over her. Perhaps it was because his business had to do with the dark arts.

The drawing room doors suddenly opened, and Draco barged in, his disheveled state nauseating Hermione.
His once white shirt was now red in certain places, and the palms of his hands and his shoes were completely covered in the ruby red substance. The horrid, metallic smell of blood wafted into Hermione's nose, making her release her lunch on the floor.

"W-what-"
"Don't worry," Draco said cooly, waving his wand so the mess of vomit disappeared from the floor. "It's not my blood."
"I know that!" She snapped.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Draco said, flicking away a fleck of dried blood from his hand. Hermione glared at him. "It's disgusting."
Hermione couldn't help but wonder who his poor victim was.

Draco cleaned himself up, and disposed of the blood stained clothing. Hermione scowled as he approached her. "You're still mad, love?" He questioned, eyebrow raised at her.
"Yes. So?" Hermione muttered.
"Speak up Mione, I can't fucking hear you." Hermione ignored Draco and began to walk away from him, but was unfortunately stopped when he grabbed her by the wrist.

With his unoccupied hand, he took a sip from his glass of firewhiskey. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "All you ever do is drink!" Hermione yelled.
Draco smirked. "I'll stop drinking on the day that I end up in Saint Mungo's with kidney failure."
Hermione's gaze shifted from his face to the Dark Mark on his arm. Again, she tried to touch it.

"I told you not to fucking touch it, didn't I?" Draco growled, his fingernails digging into the flesh on her wrist, causing it to bruise. "I'm sorry." Hermione whimpered. Draco released her wrist, sighing heavily. "I didn't mean to do that... sorry."
"I don't understand, why won't you let me touch it?" Hermione questioned.

Draco turned away from her, not even bothering to answer her question.
Hermione exhaled in defeat. "One day, you'll fully trust me."
'One day,' Hermione thought.