She dreamt of it. Dreamt of the horrific rape, his cold hands on her body, pulling her against him, forcing her.
"You want it don't you, you mudblood bitch," he would whisper into her ear he thrust her against the wall. She gasped as he pushed up her robes, his hands moving up her spread thighs. Her body was already slick with sweat, her sex wet with desire. She squirmed against him, beating him with her fists-struggling against him- at least she thought she did. And always he would laugh, that terrifyingly erotic laugh. He pulled the dress from her shoulders, exposing her to him. He pulled her against him then, and thrust into her willing flesh.
"No.. stop…" she whispered, as he ground her up against the wall. She threaded her fingers through his silken hair, her traitorous body pulled him closer. Her hips moved against his. She was horrified to realize that she was the one making the soft gasps of pleasure.
"Say the words you stupid bitch, say them," he growled against her ear, as he ground into her. She shook her head.
He pulled her hair, his thrusts becoming more frenetic. He twisted her nipples, and sank his teeth into her flesh. She screamed, as she felt herself taken to the edge, trying to drown out the steady rhythm of wet slap of his flesh against her own.
"F…fuck me Malfoy…"
The dream world disappeared , as her eyes snapped open. She blinked, looking around the room. It took he a moment to take in her surroundings. She was vaguely aware of the wetness between her thighs. Her sex still tingled. The clock read 2:00. Ron's soft snores echoed in the small cramped room. She spread her thighs as she touched the soft petals of her sex. She gave out a soft gasp as her two fingers moved over her clitoris. She found herself unconsciously mouthing his name-not her husband… but him. His tongue licking between her legs, probing into her flesh.
"yes…. "
She whispered it, as her fingers moved over her flesh. Her breathing became ragged, her hips rocked against the bed.
"Oh.. oh god…"
She laid back down, her sex slightly sore. She turned around and closed her eyes as she tried to block out the image of Malfoy's face, his intelligent, long, white fingers. Stop…. Stop…. She stared at the red mass of hair, and forced herself to smile, forced herself to feel affection for the man who slept beside her.
Ron.
She moved over, and pushed a red curl from his dear sleeping face. It had been three years since Voldemort had been defeated. She had married Ron- as expected. They had set up home in a small house in downtown London. Three years of marital bliss. Or so it seemed.
Their first coupling, on the eve of their Honeymoon had been a less than thrilling experience. It must have been her own fault Or rather her own stupidity-thinking that Ron had been a virgin. She discovered on her wedding night that he simply hadn't waited for her. He flipped her around, his motions deft and experienced.
"R-ron?'
She had been too surprised to protest, even react as her face was pressed into the soft white pillow. She blinked, too shocked to protest, as his hands pulled up the diaphanous skirt of his wedding gown. And then she felt something hard and probe between her legs. She moved her face sideways to talk.
"Wait, wait Ron, "
He gave a grunt, and thrust into her. She screamed at the sudden invasion. There was none of the pleasure, only pain and a vague sense of displeasure.
"R-Ron , I think-" she gasped. But her words were lost in the creaking of the bed, his hips slapping against her buttocks.
"Oh, god, Hermione!" It was over almost as suddenly it had begun. She felt him withdraw from between her legs, and something wet slide between her thighs. She looked up, surprised.
He seemed to know… too much. There was something wrong, she thought. He seemed a little too confident, too… There was none of the nervousness that came with the first experience. Hermione shook her head, as she thought of that disastrous event. The creams had started 2 years ago. Two years of dreaming about "the enemy".