"Silencio" A wand was pointed at her throat as her nightshirt forced up and around her neck, nearly strangling her.
Hermione screamed, cried out silently as a huge length and great quantity was forced inside her, tearing the scream from her throat and a path through delicate flesh. She gasped for breath and felt a hand firmly clapped over her mouth, the hand's warmth and sweat tingling on her lips, the body salt stinging on the place she kept biting, a bad habit she now refretted. Anything to lessen the pain, she thought, would be an improvement. Malfoy smiled, and she could see it through the dim light of the moon filled room. The curtains around her four-poster bed were drawnm but she glimpsed her rapist through the thin crack of light that shone through in the heavy fabric. She winced as he thrust again, his wand still pointed at her pale neck. He grunted as he pumped, but Hermione could not help but notice that from Malfoy's throuat, the sound was not solely animalistic, but sensual and masculine, resonating in his perfect throat and barely seeping out the poised china-doll lips set in the lower half of his face.
Hermione examined the situation she was in, her hands bound to two of the four posters, her neck somewhat restrained by the shirt bunched up around it. Her underwear had been torn from her pelvis, and lay discarded, white and tiny, on the bedspread. She could feel blood seeping in a small stream out, forming a dark pool on the starched white sheet beneath her. Malfoy removed his hand from her mouth, bending his blonde head, with the grace of a swan, to hers, whispering gently into her ear.
"Don't." He said, as if knowing her thoughts, her plan to try to scream again.
Why weren't her roommates waking? Hermione thought frantically, turning her head away from Malfoy, side to side in a frenzy to check for Lavender and Parvati, the girls who slept on either side of her, but their beds were empty. Then she remembered. It was Christmas Eve. The girls had gone home to their families days before. There was no one to hear her silenced screams, no one to hear the frantic creaking of the bedstead that squeaked in time with the motions of Draco Malfoy's forcing hips.
"That's right." Malfoy whispered, as if he could hear her thoughts. Why else would he say that? Hermione thought.
"Because I can." came the reply, and Hermione gasped. Who was this above her? Malfoy was a talented wizard, sure, but he did not have the ability to read minds, she knew. No wizard did. Except, according to Harry, Lord Voldemort.
"No, you silly wretch." Malfoy uttered, his voice, increasingly silky and sensual, bleeding through to her ears, soaking into her mind. This was not a human.
"Bravo." Said "Draco", thrusting into her body one final time with a hot surge of boiling fluid. He lay upon her for some moments, his body still injected within hers. He tapped his wand, none too gently, against her heaving throat, and she heard her own gasps change ever so slightly, laced now with a high-pitched touch of her voice, now restored to her.
"Who...are you?" she breathed, breath coming heavily and roughly to her.
"I...am an angel." He replied, mimicking her broken speech, punctuating it, like hers, with a breathy gasp.
An angel? Hermione thought, her mind racing with pain and thoughts for the need of either Muggle "stitches" or Madame Pomfrey.
"You'll be fine." he said, sitting up and pulling out from her, none too gently.
She propped herself up on her elbows, as gracefully as she could muster, wiping tears from her eyes one-handed.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice near a whisper.
"I believe that I've already taken that." He said, curving Malfoy's lips into a wicked grin.
"But why?" she said, her face contorting with pain as she shifted to fold her legs beneath her, curled up against the head-board in an effort to back away from this creature she so feared.
"How can you ask me that?" He asked her teasingly, his voice taking on a lilt of amusement. "Who wouldn't want a bit of that?" He said, gesturing towards Hermione's pale frame, which quivered now and then, if not from fear, definitely from pain.
"What kind of angel could you possibly be?"
"The kind that burns the brightest. I shine with the glow of the morning, the power of night's last resonating star. I am the ultimate,the fire." He said, captivating eyes taking hold of hers and lulling her into a mesmer. He stood, his naked body glistening in the moonlight illuminating the room with its milky glow. Hermione watched him as he headed for the door.
"What is your name?" She whispered to his retreating back.
"Lucifer." He whispered back, and his seductive smile bled through her mind.
"Lucifer Morningstar."