Chapter 66
Hermione Granger sat at her desk with a cup of tea, a mountain of textbooks and parchment spread before her. The silence of her room was only broken by the occasional rustle of paper and the scratch of her quill. She had mapped out every detail of her NEWTs study schedule, but something gnawed at the back of her mind, disrupting her concentration.
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. The thought had crept in quietly, but now it consumed her: Would Muggle drugs help her focus better? She had read about students using them to stay awake and alert during exams.
This contemplation unearthed a flood of unwanted memories. She remembered the early days with Draco—how he had forced Muggle party drugs on her to loosen her inhibitions, to mold her responses to his liking. The way her body had been so rigid, unyielding, until those substances made her compliant to his touch, pliable under his control.
Hermione's hand trembled as she picked up her quill again, her mind replaying those dark times. Draco had been relentless, determined to break her. She recalled the feel of the drugs coursing through her veins, the haze they created, and how they had gradually made her body respond to his every whim.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she hugged herself, trying to dispel the chill that had settled within her. That year had been a tumultuous mix of fear, confusion, and forced submission.
"Focus," she whispered to herself, trying to bring her attention back to her studies. But the memories were relentless. She remembered Draco's smirk, the satisfaction in his eyes when she finally reacted the way he wanted. She remembered how he had started to use her body as a canvas for his desires, each touch, each command pushing her further into a state of compliance.
But amidst the haze of drugs, she had learned to play along, to give Draco what he wanted while keeping a part of herself hidden away, untouched by his control. It was this inner fortitude that had kept her sane, that had allowed her to endure.
The thought of using drugs again, even for studying, felt like a betrayal of that hard-won strength. Hermione shook her head, resolute. She had come too far to fall back into that trap. She would find another way to focus, another way to succeed that didn't involve compromising her principles or her hard-earned autonomy.
Determined, she turned back to her study schedule, pushing the dark memories aside. They were a part of her past, but they did not define her present. Hermione Granger was stronger than that, and she would prove it—without the crutch of drugs, Muggle or magical.