A/N: Okay y'all. So, after a fitful nights sleep about a week ago, I had this one-shot running through my head and I just HAD to write it. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to let know know what you think.
Also, very very special thank you to my wonderful, amazing, perfect beta Rusty Weasley. Without him, this story would not be what it is. From the Title to his amazing ideas that helped my get this story were it is, I'm forever grateful. Much praise and thanks to the alter of Rusty Weasley.
WARNINGS: Dub/non-consensual Sex. Violence. Angst. Language. Lemons. SLIGHTLY OOC (nothing cray cray).
The Contract Sacrifice
Hermione discovered that magical contracts were nothing like Muggle ones,. Of course, she'd read about that many times, and been warned about it endlessly. She'd known it, somewhere - hypothetically. However, being bound to a Magical contract was far different than the idea of being bound to a magical contract, and when she'd made the decision to sacrifice her life for the greater good - well, she realized that she hadn't given the consequences enough thought.
War was a bitter thing. It wasn't like the Muggle movies her father loved so much, with a battle here and there, a few casualties and then, ultimately, good triumphs over evil. In the war against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, the lines between good and evil became blurred. Hermione never lost sight of who was evil, but she had to admit, her side had done despicable things as well. The war dragged on and on, and that was what really took a toll.
When Voldemort was killed, they'd thought it was finally over because the bad guy was finally dead. Harry was barely clinging to life, but his heart was still beating, and Hermione naively considered it a definite win. Voldemort was the ringleader. He held the power and made the decisions, but they should have known better. The people beneath him were not without power, numbers, and also a fair bit of motivation.
The Order was tired, haggard; and without a hero to lead the charge, they were utterly hopeless against the hordes of Death Eaters willing to keep the fight going. Towns fell to them; Ministry seats were filled by them. Laws were passed by them. And the Order became overwhelmed and ineffective. Of course, they still met. They still believed that could overcome. But it turned out that ultimately political power had always been far more important than magical or physical. The Order had nearly none of the former, and that ultimately defeated them.
Harry finally regained consciousness, much to the relief of Hermione, the Weasleys, and especially Ginny. But he was not the same. He was frail, lost most of his magical power after Voldemort's death, and was shaken to his core. Hermione knew that any real resistance to the New World Order would require that Harry lead the masses, but she held no hope that he'd be strong enough in the near future. Still, his recovery was something they all had to hold on to, and it even brought Ron out of his many months of alcohol-induced depression.
Hermione's parents were gone - off to Australia with no clue that she ever existed. She hadn't considered how she'd change their memories back once the war was over, and was at a loss about how to cast the correct Charm without any horrible side effects. Another decision made for the greater good, but with little thought to the future.
But she persevered, as Hermione always did. She got a job working at a Gringotts, which was one of the only places in the Wizarding world still accepting Mudbloods. It wasn't that everyone had become racist. There were still plenty of supporters of her kind. It was that the Ministry had a tight control on Muggle-borns and most employers did not want to deal with the hassle. Fortunately, the Goblins didn't give a fig what the Ministry had to say and were largely exempt from Ministry rules.
Hermione had found a rhythm in life, and though she was not fulfilled, and though this world was not what she envisioned, she carried on without stopping to wallow in self-pity. Things could be worse. She just didn't know how true that was.
It was just over a year after the fall of Voldemort when he approached her. She was organizing receipts behind her desk when a shadow cast over her and she lifted her eyes to see who had interrupted her work. She kept mostly to herself and led a fairly solitary life. So, a visitor was most unexpected.
"Malfoy," she said, using all her effort not to spit out his name. He was one of the wealthiest men in all of Wizarding England. She couldn't afford to be rude to him. At least not at work.
"Granger," he drawled, his black cane shimmering in the candlelight next to her.
"What can I help you with?" she bit out, having no idea why Lucius Malfoy would be standing before her. He'd risen rapidly to the Minister of the Office of Finance, and held nearly as much political power as the Minister himself - a worthless toad named Phineas Rookwood, brother of Augustus, who managed to attain the job without a lick of public support and the fact that his brother was a Death Eater spy. She had no doubt the democratic process did not prevail inside the Ministry.
"I wish you to accompany me to lunch. I have some business to discuss with you," Lucius said, his eyes flashing.
Hermione eyed him suspiciously. She couldn't very well refuse without risking her job. But she didn't trust this man. She would never trust him. He might have a pretty face, but he was as evil as Voldemort. "Can we not discuss it here?" she tried.
"Come to lunch with me, or I'll have you fired," he said imperiously, and with a smile.
Nodding her head, she picked up her beaded handbag with a sigh and followed him out of her office.
He led her out of the building, not even looking to see if she was following, and around the corner to a horribly run down pub. She almost laughed at the idea that Lucius Malfoy would even have known of this place, but she guessed working as a corporate thief, he must have had to meet with some rather unsavory characters. She did snort to herself when she considered he must think her to be 'unsavory'.
She sat down, ordered an ale - as she was sure she'd need one for this discussion - and waited for him to speak. He did not disappoint.
"As you know, the Ministry has seen fit to make many changes for the greater good," Lucius began his speech, looking past her. "One of those changes is retroactively trying cases which had been neglected by the previous leadership for political reasons."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, we all know that this administration would never dream of breaking laws for political interest," she snarked.
"Do shut up," Lucius drawled, "unless you'd like to be the next Mudblood without a job, begging in the street."
Hermione's eyes narrowed and she planned ten different ways to kill the man before her, but she bit her tongue.
"As I was saying," he continued. "You know how many laws your precious Order have broken. Too many to count, really, but trust me, someone has. It is the feeling of the Ministry that all crimes should come to light, and that they should be tried by the Wizengamot. No one is immune. Mr. Potter himself has at least five murder charges facing him."
Hermione's jaw dropped as her eyes widened. "You can't be serious!" she breathed, her heart racing as she thought of the implications. There was no way the Order would get a fair trial from this Wizengamot. Charging them would be akin to locking the entire Order up for life in Azkaban.
"And just how many of your Death Eater's crimes will be tried?" she shot back, anger flaring. She wasn't thinking of her job at the moment. No, she just wanted to punch Lucius' perfect nose until it bled!
"It has been well established and documented that all the real Death Eaters are in Azkaban. Those of us who escaped did so because we were victims of the Imperious Curse," he said, with a quirk of his lips. He knew he was lying. And he knew she knew he was lying, but she couldn't do a damn thing about it.
"Oh yes. How convenient. Interestingly enough those trials were only conducted after you all strong armed your way into the Ministry," she muttered. "But none of this explains this meeting. You must have a few murder charges on me. Why give me warning? Why tell me? What is the point of all this?"
"Ah, yes. Back to the point. The point, my dirty dear, is that I can offer you a way to save your friends and the Annoying One from the fate of Azkaban - and in his case, probably the Dementor's Kiss," Lucius said, an evil gleam in his eyes.
"At what cost?" Hermione asked.
"You," Lucius said simply. "You trade your freedom for theirs. You will come to the Manor and be my - property. I will feed you and clothe you, but you will be mine to do with as I wish. The terms will be set up in proper contract of course, but that is the deal."
Hermione's eyes widened again. "You mean your slave. What possible reason could you have to want me as your slave? This is absurd!"
"Oh, you have... attributes," Lucius said, his eyes running up and down her body making her shiver with disgust. "Still, is it worth your pride to watch your friends rot in Azkaban?"
Hermione swallowed hard. She made her decision the minute he offered her the alternative, but the thought was revolting. He could do anything he wanted to her when she took his deal, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what that would entail.
It was torture, both literally and figuratively. She thanked Merlin that there was no Mrs. Malfoy to see the way Lucius lusted after her at all hours and in any room. Part of her figured that since his wife had passed, perhaps something had snapped inside of him, and created this sex obsessed monster. Somethinghad snapped inside this evil man, and she was just sorry it wasn't his neck.
She hadn't been a virgin when Lucius had taken her for the first time, but she might as well have been. She and Ron had slept together once after Voldemort died, and it instantly became clear that they were better friends than lovers. Ron was just too soft and too worried about what he was doing wrong to do anything right. She needed more of a man. She tried a few times with Oliver Wood, which released some tension. He was vigorous, but didn't really know which end was up. Still, she knew very little about sex. She certainly was unaccustomed to Lucius' sex games.
Her body ached. Her thighs were rubbed raw and she could barely walk properly. He was big, much larger than she'd been expecting, and he rarely cared weather any of her holes were lubricated enough to accept him properly. He relentlessly drove in and out of her for his pleasure and her punishment. Lucius also liked to hit while he was fucking her. He regularly smacked her ass and breasts while he plowed into her, but a slap across the face was his favorite thing. She tried her best not to cry out as he beat her, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
Her other duties were much more to her liking, as sad as that was. She kept the Manor tidy with the help of the house-elves, and was required to prepare breakfast every morning. The cooking was a nice distraction from the regular torture that she was subjected to. More than the sex and the beatings, the thing that made her want to crawl in a hole and die, was the presence of Draco Malfoy.
As was custom in old Pureblood families, Draco still lived at home with his father. He had an entire wing to himself, but he was still required for all meals, and it was common to find him in the main areas of the Manor. Hermione shuddered every time she saw him. This boy - man - had known her since she was eleven. Hell, as much as they hated each other, they'd grown up together. He'd tortured her verbally. He'd made her feel small, ugly, and stupid through her adolescence, and here he now was, witnessing her ultimate shame in a front row seat.
Draco must have known what his father was doing to her. There was no way he couldn't. Lucius made no mistake that he was able and willing to take her anytime and anywhere he wished. She was just grateful he hadn't bent her over the dining table and fucked her in front of Draco - yet. The idea that Draco Malfoy knew this and could use it against her at any moment was her biggest heartache.
He'd said nothing - yet. He was always so solemn and somber since the fall of Voldemort and the death of his mother. His eyes raked over her with a look of disgust on his face. Every now and again he would stare at her and she'd feel more exposed than when Lucius ripped off her clothes. He'd always shake his head and leave the room. He didn't like being in the same room with her, and she wondered if he felt she was betraying his mother by sleeping with his father. Didn't he know she had no choice? Didn't he know she hated Lucius?
She didn't know why she cared, but she did. Draco Malfoy represented all the obstacles in her life, and he was seeing her at her worst. It stung.
"Mudblood slut!" Lucius growled as he pounded in and out of her. "You're a fucking siren, you whore!"
Hermione gripped the sheets tighter and moaned in pain rather than pleasure. It didn't seem to matter much to Lucius. His fingers dug into her hips as he plunged in and out of her pussy harder and harder. She knew he was close. She could always tell when he was about to come.
He spilled his seed inside her with a mighty roar and she bit down on the mattress to keep from crying out. She hated him coming inside her. She hated the feeling of him dripping down her thighs. She hated him lying on top of her while his flaccid cock recuperated . She hated him more than she hated Voldemort. His semen insider her only reminded her more of all that she'd lost. When he'd taken 'possession' of her, he'd magically rendered her infertile, emphasizing the point that she'd only be fucking him for the rest of her life, and he wasn't going to allow any half-blood brats running around. Her permanency in this situation became more profound when she thought of it.
"Get up!" he snapped, smacking her hard on the arse. She obeyed, and moved to pick up her clothes, though they were in shreds. He 'd had her wand and her magic taken away from her, so she was at his mercy to either fix them or buy her new ones. There were some times when she went days in tattered rags until he bestowed a new outfit upon her which he would usually ruin only hours later.
He pulled her away from the clothes by her arm, his tight grip causing her to wince, and threw her back down on the bed. "Stay," he commanded as he would a misbehaving dog, and he fished around inside one of the nightstands near his bed. He pulled out a tiny scrap of fabric and threw it at her. "You'll be wearing this for a few days."
"But it is practically nothing!" Hermione cried, as she held up the sheer peignoir and tiny thong. She thought of all the work she'd have to do wearing this tiny, see-through joke, and that Draco would be able to see everything . The smack across her face shocked her and hurt even worse than usual.
"Do not question me!" Lucius yelled in her face. "You will wear what I tell you. Now put it on."
Hermione's chin wobbled as she held her tears in, the humiliation settling over her as she pulled the horrid thing over her head.
"Very appropriate," Lucius admired. "Exactly what a Mudblood whore should be wearing."
"Why do you do this?" Hermione asked, her voice more broken than she'd wanted, but she couldn't understand him. He could have any woman he wanted, willing or otherwise. Why would he waste so much time and energy on someone he hated so deeply?
His fist connected with her jaw and she saw stars and thought she felt it unhinge as she collapsed back on the bed. She tried to hold the tears back, but she cried from the shock. Checking to see it still worked, she opened and closed her mouth, rubbing a tender hand against this latest bruise.
"Get out of my sight!" Lucius cried, his rage coming off of him in waves, and she felt sure if she stayed, she'd have the worst beating of her life. She quickly scurried out of the room and down the grand stairs to the kitchen. She needed ice for her face before she could go back to that closet he called her room and sleep.
She couldn't help the tears that streamed down her face as she made her way to the only room of the Manor where she felt safe. The kitchen was one place Lucius never dared go for some reason, and she needed to take care of herself. Her face hurt and her body hurt. Her heart hurt too, but she wouldn't give herself time to dwell on that. If she did, the dam would surely break.
Sniffling, she shuffled over to the magical icebox and opened it, taking out a few ice cubes to deposit in a rag one of the House Elves had left on the counter. She had just finished making her ice pack and was about to apply it to her jaw when...
"You'd be better off using a paste," Draco said, from his seat at the kitchen island.
Hermione jumped ten feet in the air and clutched her heart as the ice pack in her hand fell to the floor.
Draco lifted his wand and flicked on the light in the kitchen.
Hermione stared back at him, tears streaming down her face and gaping like a fish. "Malfoy!' she cried. "I didn't know. I mean, I thought I was..."
"Alone. I know," Draco said with a nonchalant shrug. He said nothing more, but his eyes did linger on her and she quickly covered her chest with her arms, unable to do anything about how short Lucius' damned 'gift' was. She was so caught up in her own embarrassment that she didn't notice his eyes had stopped on her face and a frown marred his lips.
"The ice won't work well," Draco said. "You should use a paste."
"I'm fresh out of my supply of magical remedies," Hermione snapped, her cheeks flaming as she stood in front of her enemy, beaten and half naked as he stared at her with an unreadable look.
"I have some," he said, not rising to her tone. With a snap of his fingers one of the house-elves stood before him. He politely asked the elf to fetch his potions bag and within seconds, Draco had the tub in hand. "Come," he said.
Hermione hesitated. What was going on? Why did he happen to be in the kitchen in the middle of the night? Why was he helping her? Why did he look at her with such...pity? "I'm not your slave too," she huffed.
Draco's eyes narrowed momentarily until he sighed and slipped off the stool he was sitting on. He walked toward her as she considered whether to fight of fly. "I'm not going to hurt you, Granger," he said. "I'm just going to apply the paste. It's the least I can do."
"Least you can..." Hermione's brows furrowed. What the hell was going on? Had she stepped into the Twilight Zone? She stood still, her arms still firmly over her chest, hiding her breasts from him as closed her eyes and lifted her chin.
"Thank you," he breathed against her skin.
She felt his body heat near her and she shivered. She hadn't felt a closeness to anyone in a very long time. Lucius didn't count. Draco's fingers were wet with a delicious mint smelling paste as they ghosted over the tender flesh of her jaw and cheek. He rubbed the substance in thoroughly and she felt herself wanting to lean into him, if only to feel the tender touch a little bit longer. It was so much more preferable to the barbaric ravaging of his father.
"There," he said, quietly. "It will be good as new by morning."
Hermione opened her eyes and saw his beautiful silver ones staring back at her with an unreadable look. "Thanks," she said, her voice catching in her throat as his gaze held hers intensely. "Why did you do this?"
His concentration broke and he stepped away from her, pressing the paste into her hand. "How could I not?" he replied, but before waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and fled the room.
Her humiliation was complete. Hermione had never wanted to drop dead more than she did at the moment her eyes locked on Draco's as Lucius ravaged her body in the front parlor.
She knew he must have been unaware that his father had decided he would take her in that room at that moment, because the silencing spell Lucius had placed around them didn't let her screams of pain or his animal-like grunts carry throughout the Manor. She wondered, deep down, if he'd done that on purpose. Lucius had know shown any restraint when his lust peaked.
She looked at the boy who had tormented her in her youth, staring back at her, his mouth agape as his eyes washed over the scene. Lucius had her bent over a marble table and held her cheek down to the cool surface as he fucked her from behind. Her face was turned to the doorway, and now she wanted nothing more than to be able to turn away from Draco. She even had to stand on her tiptoes to bring her arse to the correct height, and she never felt as small and as vulnerable as she did now. It hurt. It always hurt, but as he had only smacked her ass to this point, it was downright gentle.
"Need something, Draco?" Lucius grunted.
She could hear the smirk in his voice, and knew the question of whether or not he'd planned for Draco to discover them had been answered. Her eyes never left Draco's and the intense hatred she saw in his eyes captivated her.
"You are sick," Draco finally breathed, his eyes down cast as if he could no longer look at Hermione. She saw deep sadness and regret, and wondered how this could affect him so deeply. Did Draco Malfoy have a conscience?
She whimpered as Lucius began to thrust more viciously at his son's reply. "You are weak," Lucius snapped. He ceased forcing her face to the tabletop and gripped her hips, digging his fingers in hard enough to make her cry out.
Draco looked at her once more, swallowing hard before rushing from the room. She wanted to die of mortification. She didn't even have the presence of mind to focus on the fact that Draco looked almost - inconsolable.
Hermione missed her friends. She was never allowed to tell them the truth about her situation. Lucius dictated the letters she wrote, telling them she'd left for Australia to see her parents in hopes of befriending them if nothing else. In reality, she hadn't left the Manor grounds since he'd taken 'possession' of her.
The contract was airtight. The only people she could speak to were people who were in the Manor. She was bound to him until the day he died. She was not allowed to use magic or harm herself in anyway. Suicide wasn't an option. The magical properties of the contract made it impossible for her to change her circumstances. All she could do was endure. She wondered what would happen to her when she grew too old to arouse him any longer. Would he use her like a low functioning house-elf, or would he simply discard her like yesterday's trash?
A knock on her bedroom door pulled her from her morose thoughts. Her brow furrowed. Lucius never knocked. He just barged in and took what he wanted. Rising slowly because her back was still tender from the last session with her captor - he'd decided to take out his aggression with a whip this time - she went to the door and opened it.
"Malfoy," she answered breathlessly as her Master's son stood before her, his blonde hair falling into his eyes just enough to hide them from her scrutiny. His name felt strange on her tongue because she was so used to using it in relation to Lucius. It was hard to rectify that Draco and Lucius shared blood. They might look similar, but Draco was not his father. She knew that well enough by now.
It had taken some time to be able to be in the same room with him after he'd walked in on one of Lucius' lust rages. She's been utterly embarrassed, and she would have been just as happy to never see Draco again. Of course, he never allowed her that luxury. He was around, more than ever. Still, he never mentioned what he saw. For that, she was eternally grateful.
"Can I come in?" he asked, shifting his weight back and forth as he waited for her response.
"Umm, yeah," Hermione said, awkwardly moving out of the way. "There isn't much room to..."
"I know," Draco said quietly. "It was never meant to be a bedroom," he said, looking around and surveying the sparse accommodations. There was a twin bed with a thin quilt next to a nightstand with a pile of books atop it. There was a small dresser, though they both knew there were no clothes in it. She wore only what she was given and nothing more. He shook his head and she wondered what upset him.
"What was it before I got here?" she asked.
"Mother's second closet for out of season robes," Draco said, with a sigh. "She had so many..."
"What did you want?" Hermione finally asked, slowly easing her sore body onto the bed, as it was the only place to sit.
"I don't know," Draco said. "I just..."
"Just what, Draco?" she said, testing his first name out. It was too weird to call him Malfoy anymore. Not when that name invoked so many emotions of pain and fear.
"Why did you come here?" he finally asked, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since he entered the room.
"I wasn't given any choice," Hermione scoffed. "Do you think I want to be here? You think I wanted to throw my life away to be your father's fuck toy?"
"You didn't have to come. Lucius always gives a choice," Draco reasoned, not rising to her angry tone.
"Oh yes. I could have rotted in Azkaban," she said with a roll of the eyes.
"Wouldn't that have been better than this?" Draco questioned.
Of course it would have. The Dementor's Kiss would have been preferable to this. However, that wasn't the real reason she chose this hell. "Yes," she said. "It would have. But it wouldn't have saved Harry, or Ron, or the Weasleys, or Kingsley, or any of the others."
Draco seemed disappointed but he nodded slightly. "He knew the card to play. He knew he could get you to agree to anything if he threatened your precious Potter," he bit the last part out.
"What the hell do you care, Draco?" Hermione replied, her tone irritated. Why was he questioning this? Why did he even have to bring all of this up? She was here, and she would be here until Lucius got rid of her or died. The end. What was the point of dragging up the past?
"Why do I care?" he breathed. "Aren't you the smartest witch of our age? How could I not care? He beats you and rapes you, and I'm here to see it all. He will kill you when he's done. Don't you see that? He wants to possess you, and when he's done, he'll get rid of you."
Hermione's breath caught as her suspicions were bared between them. "I had assumed..." she muttered. "Still, it's the decision I made. I had no real choice. I have to believe we can live in a world of liberty and democracy. If all the opponents of the Death Eaters are gone, who will stand up and fight?"
"Not all that oppose the Death Eaters are in your precious Order, you know," Draco said, his tone harsh, but his eyes soft.
"Yes, and they've done a very good job of hiding their heads in the sand while Voldemort's followers took over, haven't they?" she shot back. "Besides, you are a Death Eater, are you not?"
"Yes," Draco said. "I was a Death Eater."
"Then what is the point of this conversation?" Hermione asked.
"I said I was a Death Eater," Draco clarified.
"And now you are not," Hermione said skeptically.
"Correct," Draco replied.
"And you want to fix the world?" she led.
"No," Draco shook his head. "This world is fucked. I only want enough to forget where I came from," Draco said thoughtfully.
"We can never forget where we come from. Or where we are. I am no one. I am a shell of a person. I was Hermione Granger. A war heroine, turned public enemy number one. I was a Muggle-born witch who was the smartest witch of her age. Now I'm a rag doll your father likes to come inside. When he's done with me, I'll be dead. A tiny footnote in history. Probably mocked for my silly naiveté," Hermione surmised.
"You've given up," Draco said, his tone disappointed.
"What can I do?" Hermione said. "He owns me. I'm not a person anymore. You might as well snap your fingers and summon me like a house-elf."
"I can't watch him do this to you anymore," Draco whispered.
"You never answered my question. Why?" Hermione asked, her heart speeding up as his intense gaze held her.
"Do you really think me cruel enough to not care?" he asked, his tone hurt.
"I have so few experiences to the contrary," she pointed out.
"Too true," he admitted, his eyes leaving hers. "My fault, of course. It took so much death to get me to realize..."
"Realize what?" Hermione asked. She needed to know what going on in his head. He was acting so strange. He was so open, and telling her exactly what he thought. He was so calm, collected, and so sad. This was not how she had envisioned the younger Malfoy spending his time - in her room talking about her fate with such a sense of sadness and disappointment.
"The truth, Hermione. You learned it so long ago. Money buys things but it means nothing. Power bends people to your will, but what else do you get? Fear is a motivator but it is not as strong as love," Draco answered.
Hermione smiled ruefully. "All of that is true, and yet, in this world," she gestured to her meager surroundings, "means nothing."
"It means everything, Hermione," Draco said, looking at her seriously.
"You've only made me feel worse," Hermione said. "It's hard enough taking this pain and abuse from your father, but knowing there is someone in the house that cares, but will do nothing makes me feel worse."
"That was not my intention," Draco said.
"I know," Hermione said.
"I don't want him to touch you," Draco admitted. "I can't stand it."
"Because you had an epiphany about morals?" Hermione questioned.
"Because you deserve so much more," he said, and Hermione thought she'd pass out from the blood rushing to her ears.
"Draco..." she started, but he shook his head.
"I should go," he said, moving passed her as she stood to stop him.
"Wait, Draco," Hermione cried, but he was gone in an instant and she was left staring at the door wondering if her heart would ever beat properly again.
Over the last months, he'd been kind, as far as she could explain. He never taunted her about the things his father did to her. Not like she had anticipated he would. He was quiet, reserved, and he even helped her when he could. There were more late night discussions in the kitchen after Lucius had had his way with her. He'd grown more and more savage in his treatment, unable to get off unless she was crying or bleeding - or both. Draco said nothing of her wounds, but he'd always help her clean and heal them, since she had no use of magic. She'd often wondered if Lucius knew of his son's kindness to her, but if he did, he made no indication of it.
Draco had talked to her, and listened to her, and he'd been immensely helpful to her psyche, but she assumed he did it out of guilt, especially after that day that he witnessed just a little of his father's treatment of her. He might have been a bastard in school, but he was no rapist. He probably just hated that his father was such a brute. But now...
'You deserve so much more.' It had come out of left field and knocked the wind out of her. It wasn't said like a man who pitied her. It was said like a man who longed to take her away from the torture she was living. She didn't know when this change of heart happened for him, all she knew was that something changed for Draco and she didn't quite know how to feel about it.
Her first instinct was excitement. Even after everything that had happened, the idea that she could still be seen, as a woman, as a human, was comforting. Maybe she wasn't dead yet...
But what did it matter? She belonged to Lucius, and even if she fell head-over-heels in love with Draco, that wouldn't change. It would only lead to hardship for Draco should it ever be discovered.
"Wench!" The shout emanating from the small fireplace in the corner of her tiny room shook her out of her thoughts.
Not now! she moaned to herself, but got up anyway. She had no choice after all. She just hoped he didn't have his whip this time.
His arms were warm and safe and she cried into his chest, though she knew it was only a temporary relief. An entire year she'd lived in the Manor, and she was certain she wouldn't last much longer. Not with Lucius growing more violent by the day. Not to mention, he was punishing her for seeking help from Draco, she knew. Her once hated buck-teeth were back - thanks to Lucius - and there was nothing she could do about it.
"Hermione, it will be okay," Draco cooed into her ear, but she didn't believe him. He said it to make himself feel better, but they both knew it was not going to be okay. Things were pretty far from okay.
"I can't do this anymore. He's going to kill me," Hermione sobbed. "And my fucking teeth!"
"I won't let him," Draco promised. "Besides, your teeth are fine," he lied.
"You are lying. Besides, you can't stop him," Hermione hiccupped. "He hates me. Why did he bring me here if he hates me so much?" It was something she'd never understand. Why waste the capital to end the Order trials simply to fuck and beat the shit out of her?
"He wants you, and it makes him hate himself. I know. The difference is, he takes that anger out on you," Draco explained.
"It's fucked up," Hermione muttered.
Draco chuckled lightly at that understatement. "Come," he said, standing and pulling her up with him. "We have to get your cleaned up."
Hermione followed him wordlessly into his bathroom and squinted as he turned on the light. "Get undressed," he coaxed, turning the taps on the bathtub until they filled the room with the most magnificent smell. She hadn't had anything more than a cold water shower in a year. She almost fainted with gratitude.
She bit her lip as she eyed him. She was still modest about her body, but decided that she had laid out all her vulnerabilities, so at this point, nakedness wasn't that big of a deal. Pulling her nightshirt over her head, she dropped it on the ground and slipped out of her knickers. Standing there awkwardly, she watched Draco's eyes move over her bruised and battered body.
"What has he done to you?" he breathed.
"Everything," Hermione whispered.
"Come here," Draco instructed, wrapping an arm around her as he helped her to the tub. "Get in." She did as he bade, and hissed as the hot water made contact with her aching muscles and open wounds. "Careful," he breathed, holding his breath as he watched her descend into the water.
"I'll get you something to wear," he said, turning to leave.
"I have to wear what he gives me. It's in the contract," Hermione said, looking at the blood stained clothes on the floor.
"Damn him," Draco snapped. "It says nothing about cleaning them, correct?"
"Right," Hermione said, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Good," he said, determined. He pointed his wand at the offensive clothing and scourgified them with the most powerful cleaning charm he knew. "There," he said, somewhat satisfied. "I'll leave you to wash up, and then I'll heal your wounds."
"Thanks Draco," Hermione said, a soft smile on her face. He smiled back and ducked out of the room. Her feelings for him had only grown since his confession, and as hard as she fought them, how could she not grow to care very deeply for Draco? He was her safe haven. His open invitation to his room had been used on more than one occasion to heal whatever misdeed his father had done to her. She felt certain Lucius knew what Draco was doing. She was convinced it was the reason he tortured her with her old over-bite. Draco must have mentioned her teeth to his father back when he hated her. How the evil man could remember something like that, she'd never know. Still, it was humiliating and it only served to remind her of how cruel Draco had been in school. However, Draco said nothing about any of it now; he just comforted her.
Moreover, Lucius had beaten her mercilessly while calling her a cheating slut when the black eye he'd given her had magically disappeared. He swore she'd never know the touch of another man if he had anything to say about it. She didn't even bother to mention that the damn contract wouldn't allow her to cheat even if she wanted to. And she was starting to want to, with Draco.
Draco was her lifeline, and as much as her brain knew that could be in part to her lack of exposure to any other people, she also knew that his adoration and care for her was real. He'd made it clear over the last months that he went through hell every time his father summoned her.
She washed quickly, loving the luxurious bath but not wanting to waste the precious moments she had with Draco. She clung to every second with him, and though longing for someone made coping harder, she needed it as much as she needed air. She had a feeling that her days were now numbered, and she didn't wish to waste them.
Pulling on her newly cleaned clothes, she padded back into his bedroom and smiled when she saw him impatiently waiting for her. "Come," he softly instructed, and she sat next to him on the bed. He raised his wand, and then made quick work of healing her busted lip and bruised cheek. He then moved down to her back where he knitted together the skin that had ripped apart under his father's whip. He held himself together, and she couldn't thank him enough for that. She saw the raw emotions swirling around in his eyes, but he never let them take over. He never broke down in front of her.
"There," he said, when he'd finished. "I know you are still sore, I can't do anything about that. And your teeth – I'll have to leave them like that for now. He'll just keep cursing them."
"You've done more than enough, Draco." Hermione said, smiling up at him.
"No, I haven't," Draco said. "I should take you away from here."
"You know you can't," Hermione said. "It's pointless even to talk about."
Draco just sighed and shook his head. "Come, get in," he indicated, moving back on the bed and flipping the covers down.
"But...what about...If your father finds out..." Hermione stuttered nervously. She wanted him to hold her and get her through the night so badly, but she had no idea what it would mean for him - or her - if Lucius ever found out.
"He's passed out in a drunken stupor," Draco said. "I checked. He's not going anywhere."
Drunk. So that was why he was particularly violent tonight. Hermione knew she should resist, but she couldn't help herself. Grinning, she climbed into bed with the man who she never thought she would trust as much as she did and slid under the covers.
Instantly, Draco's arms were around her and she felt his warm body pressed into hers. Looking up she smiled at him, but he didn't smile back. His gaze was intense as he looked down at her. "I've wanted to hold you like this for so long," he admitted.
"I can't...I mean, I want to, but I can't be with you. He would know," Hermione gulped as she saw the lust flare in his eyes.
"I know, Hermione. I'd never take you in this house. Never in this place," he said. Hermione relaxed, but found herself, in equal measure disappointed this was an experience she'd never have. The one she wanted, she would never be allowed to have.
"Why do you waste your time with me?" she asked. "You can never have me."
"I don't want anyone else," Draco said simply. His gaze intensified again as his face moved closer to hers and she tilted her chin up to feel his lips press against hers. It felt better than she'd imagined. This one kiss had her panting with desire in a way that nothing Lucius ever did could make her do.
She pulled away and smiled slightly at him. "Even with my chipmunk teeth? I know how much you hated them."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I enjoyed pissing you off more than anything. Do I like your teeth better the other way? Sure,but, honestly, I could give a fig about your teeth, Hermione. You're beautiful either way."
Hermione smiled brightly at him, hearing, for the first time in a long time, that she was beautiful affected her more than she'd ever thought possible. She meant to thank him for making her feel better, but lost her chance when his lips pressed against hers again.
His kiss lingered and deepened until they were moaning and panting against each other, clinging for dear life. "I'm going to get you out of this, Hermione," he swore. And she let him tell her lies because at the moment, she wanted to believe them.
God, she wished she were dead. A new curse, he'd boasted before he hit her with it. She had a good name for it: Flesh Eating Curse because that's what it felt like. Her skin was red and raw as if it had been burned then slowly peeled off. She vaguely remembered Draco finding her, moaning in agony in her own room. But he was gone. Or maybe he'd never been there. She didn't know. The only thing she knew was that she wanted to die. Now.
"Mummy," she cried out uselessly. Her mother didn't even know she existed, and even if she did, she couldn't save her now. No one could. The end was coming and it was better that she make peace with it.
"Hermione!" Draco's voice called through the mist of agony. "Hermione, love, can you move?"
"No," she shuddered. "Ah!" she cried when she felt his hand on her wrist. "Hurts," she grunted.
"Oh, Merlin," he breathed. She was just glad he was there.
"I'm going to die," she groaned. "It hurts too much."
"You are not going to die," he snapped. "I'm going to heal you, just give me a minute to figure out how to reverse this curse."
Hermione barely nodded, trying to ignore the immense pain running through her body. It seemed like an eternity passed and then...
Relief. It was slow at first and then the pain left her. "Draco..." her voice was cracked and she felt tears on her face. She wondered how long she'd been lying there.
"Fucking bastard," he muttered to himself as he watched Hermione trying to rise. "Be careful," he said, "your skin will feel tight for a few days."
"Until he casts that on me next time," Hermione shuddered.
"Never again," Draco said sternly.
"You know he won't be able to resist, now that he knows how much it hurts," Hermione countered.
"No," Draco said, shaking his head with conviction. "He'll never touch you again, Hermione. You are free."
"That's not funny," Hermione said, pushing him away.
"It's true," Draco said. "I killed him."
Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him. "You what?"
"When I saw...when I saw what he'd done to you," he shuddered. "I couldn't let it happen again. I should have done this on day one. He's a useless bastard and he was never worth the life he was given," Draco said with conviction.
"Draco, they'll throw you in Azkaban!" Hermione cried clutching him tightly.
"Most likely. But I don't plan to get caught," he said.
"What do you mean? Someone will investigate," Hermione reasoned. All her pain was forgotten in the moment she realized that Draco would likely face the Dementors just for her. She couldn't live with herself if something happened to him.
"Hermione, come with me. Let's get out of here. This society can't be fixed. The people running this country will never give up power. Even some of the Order have started to leave. Come with me. We can make a life in the Muggle world. Go to some far off country and live. No one will find us," Draco cried, his arms on her shoulders as he begged her.
Just as her decision had been made within seconds of Lucius' deal, her decision was made now. There was no place to go in this world. She'd be betrayed by wizarding England, and she had no desire to return. Wherever Draco was, that's where she wanted to be. She trusted him to find a way out.
"Okay," she said, looking him in the eye, and he pulled her to him, crushing her in a fierce hug.
"I'm just going to get enough money to get us out of here, then we are gone," Draco promised, kissing her on the forehead.
Australia agreed with Hermione. Granted, it had only been a few days, but it was a wonderful few days. Given that Draco had just murdered his own father, he was in high spirits as well. When Hermione had asked him how he felt, he only responded with 'relieved, and angry with myself for waiting so long.'
They'd kept up with the Daily Prophet, just to see what was coming out of the murder investigation, and it turned out that it didn't take long for the Aurors to figure out almost exactly what happened. The found the contract for Hermione's enslavement. They discovered enough evidence to figure out that Draco had killed his father and that the likely reason was because he and Hermione were in love. They painted quite a dramatic picture all while trying to convince the public how dangerous the two of them were together. Still, no one seemed to be willing to scour the earth for Draco or Hermione, so until that changed, they felt relatively safe. Besides, the Death Eaters that ran the ministry didn't know the first thing about Muggle society, especially in a different country.
"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked, pulled Hermione from her thoughts.
"England," she said.
"Why in Merlin's name are you thinking about that?" Draco laughed.
"I didn't say I missed it," Hermione said. "Besides, the proper Muggle term is "Why in God's name are you thinking about that. If you walk around saying "Merlin" people will think you are barmy."
"I know. I know. Hey, I didn't even take Muggle studies. It's going to take me a while to get the hang of this," Draco pointed out.
"It's okay. I'll help," Hermione promised, reaching over to him and pulling him down for a kiss. "Are you ready for bed?"
"Do you mean bed, bed?" Draco asked. "I don't want to rush you, you've been through a lot. When it happens, I want you to be free of any thoughts of what my father did to you."
Hermione knew he was right. It was too soon. Still, she wanted him. She wanted him to fill her, take her, and make her feel what she'd always wanted to feel with a man. In time, she knew she'd be ready.
"Mmmm," Hermione moaned as Draco's kisses made a path up her neck. She shuddered as he sent chills down her spine. Merlin, she never knew it could feel like this.
"As much as I hate to," Draco said between kisses across her face, "I've got to go to work."
Hermione groaned. The sexual tension between them had been building up to a fever pitch and she knew she had to have him soon or she would surely go mad.
It was time. They'd been living in Australia for three months and as far as they had gone, there'd always been a line that Draco drew between them. He'd kiss and caress her. He'd even touched her intimately once, but she knew he'd worried he was pushing her too far too fast. She'd have to find a way to make him realize, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
"Fine," she sighed. She knew he couldn't afford to blow off work. The money they had brought them to Australia undetected and set them up with food and a flat for a few months, but after that, they knew they'd have to make a living on their own. It had been harder for Draco. He had no experience with Muggle jobs. Computers were a mystery to him. He struggled with the proper vernacular. Still, he worked hard and let Hermione lead him through a crash course in Muggle culture and technology. He even had a mobile phone.
Eventually he'd gotten a job as a bookkeeper for a small business. They had taken a chance on him, having never heard of the schools Hermione had placed on his resume, and he was still on probation, but he liked the job and it paid decent money. Hermione had searched high and low and finally found the perfect job. She was Receptionist for a well-respected Dental Office owned by Wendell and Monica Wilkins.
"I have to get up too," she said with a sigh. As much as she loved spending the day with her parents - though they had no idea who she was - she was beginning to enjoy the make-out session Draco had started that morning.
"Love you," Draco said, pecking her on the lips before rolling out of bed.
"Love you, too," Hermione said with a wistful smile. She couldn't believe how good life was, even if it wasn't the grand life she'd envisioned for herself.
"Draco, please," she panted, her lips attacking his as her fingers gripped his hair tight.
"Hermione, I don't want you to regret..." Draco started, though he was already pushing her against the cushions of the couch, his erection rubbing delightfully against the apex of her thighs.
"I'm ready, Draco. It's been long enough. Please," she begged. "Help me to know what it's supposed to feel like. Wash away what he did." She looked up into Draco's eyes and saw his internal battle. He wanted it. She knew he'd wanted it even before they'd left Malfoy Manor, but he was terrified that she'd compare him.
"You are not him. You love me. I know you do. Please, Draco," she pleaded again, and she knew she'd won. His lips fused to hers instantly and she pushed him back just slightly to maneuver out from under him. She didn't want to do this on the couch.
"Let's go to the bedroom," she suggested, and he nodded quickly and moved from the couch, pulling her up by the hand and leading her down the hall to their bedroom. When the door was shut, she pounced.
Hermione smiled at Draco's surprised grunt when his arms were full of her and they both fell onto the bed, a mess of arms and legs and battling tongues. If he thought she was going to be a shy lily, he had another thing coming. She'd experienced being the dead fish who just laid there and let the man take control. She wanted to be an active partner with Draco. She wanted to possess him just as much as he possessed her.
"Hermione," he breathed as she straddled his hips and kissed him vigorously. He tasted of mint, as he always tasted, and she savored it. It was so much better than the liquor that Lucius tasted of most times. No, she was not going to think about Lucius. He was dead and gone. She'd never have to touch him again. Draco was here and he was hers.
"You okay?" Draco asked, pushing her face out of her hair as he looked up at her. She didn't realize she'd stopped kissing him.
"Fine," she reassured him with a smile as she was brought back to the man underneath her. She felt a sense of power she'd never felt before. Her first sexual experiences were young, innocent, and fumbling. Her trysts with Oliver Wood touched on a hidden bit of her own sexuality, but not with any real intensity. Then she was a slave, where sexual pleasure was not possible. Here, with Draco, she felt safe and confident. She knew he'd give her what she'd waited so long to feel and he'd enjoy it just as much as she did.
His fingers ghosted up her sides, under her shirt, and she moaned in pleasure.
"Let me," she finally said, when she could pull her mouth from his. Climbing gracefully off him, she stood at the edge of the bed and lifted her shirt over her head, her eyes never leaving his. She saw him gulp, and his eyes grow dark, and she grinned to herself. She was going to enjoy this. Besides, she wanted to take her own clothes off for a change.
Dropping the shirt at her feet, she pulled the drawstring of her sweatpants and pushed them gently down her hips, exposing the creamy skin of her thighs to Draco's eager gaze.
"Hermione..." he breathed, reaching out to her, but she shook her head and grinned at him.
She looked down at herself for a moment, feeling appreciative of how well her body had healed over the last months. Any sign of Lucius' abuse was gone. Draco had taken a great deal of time healing her properly and setting her to rights.
Smiling with satisfaction, she looked back up to Draco who looked like a starving man, and reached behind herself for the clasp on her bra. Flicking it open, she let the material fall off her arms and gently pulled away the lace from her breasts, baring herself to him.
"Merlin..." he whispered, and she could see him coming toward her. "No more teasing," he grunted reaching out to her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pulled her back down onto the bed. He hovered over her, one hand massaging her breast as his tongue flicked across her lips, tasting her before moving on to her neck where he placed tiny love bites.
"I need you," he confessed, pulling at his own shirt until he got it off and flung it across the room.
"I need you too," Hermione panted, her fingers already deftly working at the drawstring of his pants. Too eager to get him undressed, she pushed the rest of his clothes down in one tug, moaning slightly as she saw his cock staring back at her. She wrapped one hand around his shaftand pumped gently.
"Fuck. Hermione, stop," he begged, stilling her hand. "It's too much," he answered her silent question, as she looked up at him concerned. His tense look of concentration made her stomach do flops and she nodded at him, helping him the rest of the way out of his clothes.
Within seconds he was on top of her again, his kisses ever present as he made his way down her body. His hands were everywhere and she felt overwhelmingly hot, and yet not uncomfortable. "Draco..." she sighed as his mouth wrapped around one of her nipples and he bit down just slightly. Her pussy clinched and she hoped he'd do it again. She wasn't disappointed.
Widening her legs, she felt his body pressed against her wet pussy as he slithered down, paying a great deal of attention to her breasts and nipples before licking and sucking gently at the skin of her stomach.
"Oh!" she cried when he dipped his tongue into her belly button and she giggled when his slight stubble rubbed against her lower abdomen, tickling her.
"Okay?" he asked again, looking up at her, barely hanging onto any control he had left.
"I'm fine. Stop asking," she chuckled.
He grinned crookedly at her and continued his journey, less hesitant now. She felt his hands pulling her thighs further apart as she slid further down and she knew what he was about to do. No one had ever gone down on her before, and the anticipation bubbled up in her stomach.
The first broad lick of his tongue against her clit was enough to make her hips buck. She felt him smile against her as he held her down and licked her again. "Oh, God," she cried out, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She felt her pussy clenching and unclenching as he licked and sucked at her clit harder and faster.
"Draco!" she cried out, her hips circling to get the right friction. She didn't know how she knew what she needed, but she did. She needed him right...there...
"Oh fuck," she muttered, her fingers clinching in his hair as she felt the onset of her orgasm. She moaned loudly, and he let go of her just enough for her to buck into his mouth with a little more force as they both worked her over the edge.
"Oh, oh!" she cried out, her orgasm hitting its peak and making her feel as if she would turn inside out. He continued to lick her, firm and steady until her legs started to shake with the aftershocks.
As he moved up her body, she saw his glistening wet mouth and self-satisfied grin, and lazily smiled back at him. Pulling him up to her, she kissed him and licked her own juices off his lips and chin.
"Mmm," he groaned, against her, a sound that almost made her wonder if her was hurt but the way his cock poked her in the thigh, she was certain he wasn't feeling any pain.
"That felt so amazing," she admitted, resting her forehead against his.
"You are wonderful," Draco said simply, looking at her intensely. She loved this man, with all her heart and soul. He knew her worst secrets and he loved her in return. Kissing him fiercely, she rolled them both over and settled on his hips, her pussy dripping all over his rigid cock.
"You make me so hot," she admitted, rubbing herself against him until he halted her hips with a strangled cry.
"Take pity on me. Please," he begged, looking up at her.
She smiled, and leaned down to kiss him again. When she sat back up, she took his cock in her hand and led him to her entrance. With a deep breath, she slid down him and let him fill her completely. Merlin, it felt fucking amazing.
Not wanting to waste a moment, she rose and fell on him experimentally, getting used to being in control. She found she rather liked it. Looking down at her lover, she placed both hands on his chest and used them as leverage as she began to ride him, slowly at first but then faster as the felt the need for friction rise.
She felt lightheaded, his cock massaging parts inside her that she didn't even know existed. "Mmmm, feels so good," she muttered as she leaned back and placed both hands on Draco's thighs, giving him a lovely view of her body as she rose and fell on his cock.
She threw her head back as she felt his thumb rest against her clit. He didn't even need to move it. Just the pressure was enough to make her see stars. "Draco, fuck..." she cried out, her speed increasing as she slammed up and down on him.
"That's it, Hermione," Draco groaned, his tone strangled as if he could barely get the words out. "Ride me," he encouraged, his hips rising and falling to meet hers.
Ride him she did. Hard, fast, and intense, she set a pace that neither of them thought possible, striving to reach their mutual end together. She felt her insides tightening and her pussy beginning to clench again, and she knew she wasn't going to last much longer.
"So close," she slurred, he hands moving back to Draco's chest for more leverage. His thumb began to circle just slightly at her words.
"Thank Merlin," he muttered. "Come, Hermione. Come on my cock!" he cried out, his pace increasing as she circled her hips and fucking him with all her might.
"Oh, shit! DRACO!" she screamed, as her pussy clamped down hard and she felt her blood rushing to her twat. The incredible feeling of him making her come with his mouth was a distant memory to this all-encompassing release.
"Yes! Come on me," Draco shouted as his hips bucked off the bed and slammed hard into her, bottoming out inside of her. She heard him moaning, but she was still so overcome with her own orgasm she could barely pay attention. When the waves of pleasure subsided, she felt onto Draco's chest, panting and sweaty, and for once, sated.
She could hear Draco's heart beating, fast and hard, under her cheek and she smiled. "Wow," she panted.
"Amazing," Draco agreed, wrapping both arms around Hermione and holding her close. Yes. Australia agreed with Hermione, but in Draco's arms, she was home.
The End
A/N 2: So, I might write another chapter from Draco's point of view. I think there are some really interesting things I can do with it, but I haven't decided yet.