A/N: There were a lot of plot changes from when I started writing this piece, to when it ended. It was a totally gentle animal when I began, and turned rabid midway through.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hermione Granger or Tom Riddle or any of the characters mentioned below. The story was also inspired by a WIP Dramione fanfic I read that had not been updated for almost 3 years. I decided to play with the concept, and here it is~ Enjoy!
"It has been decided."
A resounding cry was heard throughout the throne room of the castle.
The crowd became listless; whispering and mumbling amongst themselves as they slowly march out of the room—except for two people who broke through the throng and threw themselves at the foot of the throne.
"Please, I beg of you, Your Highness," Helen Granger was on the floor, unending stream of tears flowing out of her eyes. "She is but a child. Barely reached her 18th year, Your Highness—" desperation heard clearly in her voice, she was engulfed in an onslaught of tears, seeming to have lost her capacity to speak. She clasped her hands together and bowed her body lower on the floor.
Please, please, please...
Antony Granger, her husband, was beside her. Wide blank eyes, whole body trembling, tears escaping his eyes; he stood quietly, absorbing the weight of the situation. It was inevitable, yes. Though just a lowly farmer, he was a very intelligent man. It didn't take much wit to know that he had no power to protest the order of the King. The decision was final; he will not be able to save his daughter no matter how hard he tries.
King Abraxas Malfoy III, stares down at the couple from the throne, expressionless. There was nothing else he could do, the couple should know that too. What they were going to do was for the realm, not for anyone else's selfish gain. Right?
To save the realm; and that's all that mattered. Of course.
The King looked to the General of his Kingsguard, regarded him and spoke, "Begin."
The swish of two swords. Bodies crumbling to the floor. Blood splattered everywhere.
The life of a few, for the life of many.
…
The Kingdom of Hogwarts was beautiful. There was an abundance of all needed resources which its citizens are able to enjoy and use for their productivity.
There was the Azkaban Sea. Spans over the whole east of the land. With its waters healthy and unpolluted, it is a great resource of food and work. Its water borders were calm enough for the fisher folks to always safely venture out and catch aplenty.
They were also blessed with the resources perfect for mining. The mountain they call the Goblet of Fire is a holder of various gems, rare stones, and minerals. It was named as such after the miners have discovered that ruby takes precedence in terms of quantity found within the mountain.
Lastly, their lands were also very fertile. A perfect place for farming, Hogwarts is known to be an agricultural kingdom. Everyone knew: great produce can always be expected if harvested from them.
Generations after generations, the kingdom had continued to enjoy good fortune. Other countries have greatly envied their realm, eager to know the secret of their kingdom's success.
The Beauxbatons, the country to their west, have theorized that the bloodline of the Malfoys have brought this fortune possible. The Durmstrangs, the country to their north, however do not acknowledge the Malfoys to be the cause. In their eyes, Hogwarts was simply lucky being gifted with the natural resources it has, and the citizens have taken the great opportunity to nurture and let it grow to its best capacity.
They didn't know.
No single soul outside Hogwarts knew of the ugly truth that energizes its land to thrum with good fortune.
No single soul inside Hogwarts ever dared to share the truth.
This was an unspoken agreement by all its citizens, their excuses for not disclosing it to others were varied, but they were united with one true purpose: to protect the place Hogwarts have established in the world. If the truth remained a secret and maintained within their kingdom, they will always be known as the best, and the greatest. The best harvest, the best catch; more trade, more profit, more wealth.
Of course, all is well for each and every citizen.
That is, as long as their family was not chosen to offer the sacrifice.
…
According to the recorded origins in Hogwarts: A History, this tradition began since the time of the founding fathers of Hogwarts. Every decade, a sacrifice is offered to commemorate the pact between the founding fathers and the magical beings called Veelas.
Veelas were the original occupants of the kingdom. They were magical beings described as having extraordinary beauty, intellect, and power. Long life was also blessed upon these beings, most of their species having lived for over a hundred years. Their features were not that different to that of humans except for their distinct long ears, piercing cat-like eyes, and their elegant wings.
During their exclusive reign of Hogwarts, humans likened them to the gods.
Until, one journey changed the fate of the whole Veela race.
...
Centuries ago, with the strong leadership of Marcus Malfoy II, he and his men explored what others have not dared do before: sail to the very elusive Kingdom of Hogwarts. Because what are men if not curious beings?
So sail they did. And welcomed they were when they landed at the shores of Hogwarts.
King Regulus Black IV and Queen Celia Black were the monarchs at the time; kind and hailed by all their people for their fair governance. They welcomed the men as their own, afraid to miss the chance of uniting the two races.
They didn't expect however, that their daughter Narcissa Black, just at the age of 15 will be mated with Marcus Malfoy.
Thus, marking the beginning of their end.
The grandest wedding in the history of the Kingdom was held—the first union of both man and Veela a big deal for both lands. All of Marcus' relatives were present, and was offered the opportunity to live in the Kingdom. Their union an exemplar of love, peace and abundance.
A decade of happiness and greater fortune was blessed upon Hogwarts before it burned. Lucius Malfoy, now famously known as Lucius the Founder, was Marcus older brother. Overridden with jealousy for the kingdom Marcus had found, and lust for the extraordinary wife he holds in his arms, Lucius destroyed all the Veelas, and rebuilt an empire for himself. A newfound empire, previously owned by God-like Veelas; now for humans to lead and build.
With his mercy, he spared one Veela, so that the powers of the creature could continue to bring Hogwarts good fortune. They established a pact that in return for the good fortune the Veela will provide, a life of a maiden must be given to him every decade.
At least, that's what the history books say.
It failed to note how a single Veela turned on his own race and wiped them out in a single night. How that Veela wanted to be the only one to be known as God. He wanted more life, over a hundred years is not enough. He wanted a millennia—nay, he never wanted to die. He didn't believe in having mates, denying that he had any form of weakness such as love. Repulsive.
So when the humans came to their shores, he found an opportunity. He observed that they had a life force different from his kind; a life force more susceptible than theirs. If he could, he wanted to know if it is possible to absorb that life force for his gain; to continuously energize him.
The day after the humans arrived, the men and their wives were allowed to roam the Kingdom. When he caught sight of some of the wives wandering far from their husbands, he snatched one woman and took her to a back alley to test his theory. True enough, after he was done with her, he found himself with new energy. When more of the humans came to celebrate his cousin Narcissa's wedding, he took a young human girl, and found another new discovery.
Over a decade, as humans continue to litter the kingdom, he quietly tested his theories. Behind everyone's backs he slowly and carefully planned his rise to power. Making use of the weak Lucius, the Malfoys became his puppet ever since.
At last, Tom Riddle was able to get what he wanted—eternal life.
…
Hermione Granger was a farmer's daughter.
Her social status never really became an issue for her, and she wondered why people made a big deal by discriminating against her family. They were uncivilized, they said. They were dirty, they said. They were always surrounded by soil and mud, their blood may as well be made of it too, they said. Mudblood! she could still hear the hateful word she always got when she was a child at the back of her head.
It's been so long. She paid no mind to what others thought because as far as she was concerned, living in the farm made her happy. Everyday had a purpose, and she held her head high knowing the dignity of the work of a farmer.
In contrast to common belief, though they did not have the capacity to get a formal education, the Grangers have always supported growth through knowledge. The Grangers always taught themselves how to read and write and always invested in books whenever they had saved enough to buy one or two. Their thirst for knowledge not different from Hermione's. The girl even venturing to sneak into the libraries in every place she has been to to read as much as she can.
However, any stored knowledge or finished book, could not have helped them from the decision.
Even when she was younger, neighboring families of the Grangers, and even those who were able to see the girl for the first time have regarded Hermione as a bud blooming to become a stunning beauty. As much delight the others found in that fact, the greater the burden and horror to the Grangers became.
They needed to protect her. If she is proven to be a fair maiden at the mark of the next decade, she will definitely be chosen to be the next sacrifice.
Truth be told, when the time came, she had been chosen.
…
It all happened so fast. One minute she was dragging a plow in the fields. The next thing she knew, she was being dragged from the field. At first she tried struggling, thrashing her body and screaming for help. Their neighbors were out of their houses, looking at her. Just looking at her.
She immediately stopped resisting. Growing up in the Kingdom meant she knew there was only one reason a girl like her will be dragged in broad daylight, without anyone even trying to rescue her. So she lets them drag her to the fields.
...
Both her hands and feet were tied to a wooden cross laid down in the middle of the field. She was naked, a large cut of ruby placed above her abdomen, the mark of the sacrifice.
Hermione Granger was looking up at the sky, her only source of solace and peace at this time of hopelessness. She supposed, she should have felt cold, but she felt nothing. The truth of the situation numbing her completely.
This—her being tied, laid down, and left alone in the middle of the field—was the last piece of information documented in the scrolls she have come across about the ritual. It always ended in the field. Whatever happened after previous sacrifices have been left here, no one knows. What was sure was whoever was picked, will never return to the Kingdom, and at the wake of the sacrifice's disappearance, a new decade of abundance is welcomed.
"For the realm," she whispered into the night as she let a single tear escape unknowingly from her eye.
Along with the sound of the breeze passing, the leaves of the trees rustling, Hermione suddenly heard footsteps closing in on her. The sound stopped near the foot of the cross.
"Look at me," it was a male's voice, a dark and low one.
She shivered, embarrassed at the thought of being so exposed, and desperately wanted to untie her hands to cover herself from the stranger. Disregarding the command, Hermione kept her eyes glued to the sky; her innate stubbornness was not famous in the Kingdom for nothing after all.
"Look at me," the man repeated now with a sharp tone in his voice.
As much as she wanted to keep defying whoever he was, she can't help but think that it would most likely be better to get over this as quickly as possible. If she were meant to die tonight, then what else could she do but abide by it? No matter if she stayed or escaped, she will die anyway. If not by this stranger's hand, then by the anger of the citizens of the realm. It was her choice if she wanted to prolong her agony or not. With a sigh, she lifted her head up to look at him.
Electricity.
She suddenly felt wet and was rubbing her thighs unconsciously. It would have took some time to adjust her eyes to the darkness, but somehow she could vividly see him.
His hair was black, short and unkempt. His eyes were slitted, inhuman; somewhat similar to the cat she had when she was younger. He was staring straight into her eyes as if he was slowly entering her body through it. She felt her blood rushing to her cheeks at the thought; yes, she was young, and a virgin, but that did not mean she was naive. Hermione panicked when she registered his state of undress.
The creature in front of her was not bulky, he was lean. Though he wasn't big in build, his muscles were clearly defined and toned. Tried as she might to not look past his pelvis, her eyes went down eventually. Though she had never seen one, she knew that his was huge. For the first time since the morning she had been dragged to this mess, she considered the possibility of not dying. She should be relieved but she's not.
Hermione looks up at the sky. "If you're going to kill me, be quick and get on with it," she tried to sound strong but her voice cracked.
"I apologize," her head snapped back up, hearing his voice sent her whole body tingling, "but I do not intend to kill you."
Rather than being cold being exposed like that, she was strangely beginning to get hot.
Then when she thought nothing stranger would happen, he revealed his wings with one graceful and elegant move. The gust of wind from the action reaching her immediately.
That's when something shattered from within her.
All thought, logic or rationale fled from her. Against her will, she arched her back from the wooden cross and moaned. She was on fire. It was as if a veil has been lifted from her, and in its place was a burning need totally consuming her.
Hermione was panting, back still high in the air, trying to reach for contact—any contact. With all the force she could muster, she struggled to break away from the cross and free her hands knowing that she needed to find something, to fill this need she has. What it was, she did not know. She was rapidly getting so fucking wet, the idea only familiar to her from gossips and some of the books she has read. It was scandalous, it was wrong, she thought as she rubbed her legs harder together. The action made her moan louder, and arch her back higher.
It's not enough, she groaned.
Suddenly the ropes restraining her feet were cut loose, and two hands firmly held her bare legs.
She almost screamed at the contact, her pleasure overflowing. The hands started to caress and move; the touch burned her everywhere but it felt so good. She could feel a burst of wetness again and when she moved to rub her legs together to ease it, her legs were spread apart. A groan of protest rumbled from her throat, and she looked at the creature with hate.
He entered her in one full thrust, and Hermione screamed and hit her head in the wood so hard, she started to feel lightheaded. No pain, only pleasure. She was so wet that he easily made it all the way inside her. He pounded himself in her while muttering "Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine," under his breath. Hermione's mouth was open, her eyes closed as she grunted approval of what he was doing. She so badly wanted to touch anything—her breasts, his hair, his body—except being tied down.
As if hearing her thoughts, she felt something soft caress both of her breasts. When she looked up, the image made her come so hard that her shriek may have woken up everyone in the Kingdom. He was mercilessly pounding into her, hands holding her hips, and his wings were caressing her breasts like they had a mind of their own. The creature was not near satisfied however as he placed Hermione's legs on his shoulders and continued to pound into her, harder and faster, the slapping of the skin wet and sensual to Hermione's ears.
"You are mine. Your cunt is mine little bitch. I will fuck you every fucking day, you hear me?" the creature whispered directly to her ear . "I promise you. My cock will always be inside you," he said in between groans, "your cunt will always welcome it. Your mouth will worship it."
Hermione could only respond the affirmative "Yes…Yes…Yours…Cock…Fuck, fuck…" He kissed her neck like he was devouring her. When Hermione was beginning to shake and was near her peak, he bit her long and hard, two fangs entering her flesh. The pain doubled the pleasure, and she was screaming the second time that night. As his venom was entering her body, her teeth started to elongate, and she in kind bit the flesh of his neck.
He came inside her hard. She was holding his cock with a vice, milking him of every essence he had to offer. Her abdomen hot with his seed. Her cunt overflowing of their combined essence, and it trickled down to the wood, and to the grass below them.
"The next time we fuck, I want to hear my name from your lips," Hermione still in a daze, began to get wet again. "My name is Tom Riddle," he said in between swipes of his tongue on her breast, his wings moved to cut the ropes of her hands, "You could call me My Lord," devouring her breast fully, eliciting a moan from Hermione.
Hermione Granger was totally lost. Her life, her thoughts, and her entire being, now fully someone else's. Her humanity was the sacrifice, leaving a shell that only exist for one and only one purpose: to serve Tom Riddle.
Before she knew it he was pounding in her again, the life force she have provided surging strong within his veins. The ritual was complete.
