Not So Typical
Hermione bit down hard on her lip to keep herself from crying out as he made yet another cut across her stomach. She soon tasted blood, but the pain in her mouth compared not to the pain in the realization that this man, this familiar face that was now tainted by an ill-fitting sneer, this boy she once felt attracted to--- was not to be trusted. He was not the man she'd once thought.
Mostly to force her mind to tear away from the present, she begrudgingly thought of this summer trip she'd once been intrigued by, only to have it turn sour.
As soon as she'd gotten the invitation from Viktor, she instantly felt elated. She hadn't seen him in three years, since his school left Hogwarts in the fourth year. She'd be spending two and a half weeks over at his Manor in Bulgaria. She simply couldn't wait.
How ironicshe thought, that it was this I couldn't wait for. She prevented herself as best she could from looking at him. His lustful stare was more than she could handle, and the malicious grin playing on his lips didn't fit well on the face she had known for so long.
She spotted him the second she stepped off the landing of the Knight Bus and onto the rain soaked grass. She was incredibly tired after the long trip, but seeing him, his beaming face, his body bouncing up and down on this toes in excitement, had completely washed her away her exhaustion. She dropped her bags on the spot and ran to embrace him. It felt amazing to finally be with him after three years of exile.
After they'd settled her in, it was only six o'clock. They went out to dinner and a local dinner called "Marie's". After, they'd taken a ride (by broomstick) up to a magnificent cliff overhanging a dazzling lake. Each star in the sky sparkled on the lake's surface. It was truly a post-card worthy sight.
Hermione sighed heavily, sadly. Oh, how she had loved that cliff over the lake.
She felt as if nothing would make her happier than to sit on that cliff and forget- forget about the impending war, forget about Voldemort, and even forget that this war may see the end of Harry Potter. And for a while, she almost succeeded.
She remembered their conversation word for word. It was etched in her mind, as clearly as if it were happening to her right then. The memory left a tart taste in her mouth.
Viktor turned toward her slowly, his dark eye's dancing by the moonlight. She felt her heart flutter when he looked at her like that.
"Herm-own-ninny," he began, her face cracking a smile at the disoriented way he said her name, "let's play a game."
"Sure, Viktor. What kind of game?" she asked innocently.
"I trust you, Herm-own-ninny. I vould like nothing more than to have you trust me too."
"I trust you, Viktor. Of course I do" Hermione said, confused.
"Then this should be fun," Viktor said with a smile she wasn't all too sure she liked. "The game is to build up each others trust. Ve each have to tell our deepest secrets."
Uh-oh, Hermione thought. Anything but this.
"Uhh, Viktor, I'm not sure---"
"But I thought you trusted me, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor muttered, suddenly angry.
"I-I do Viktor, it's just—"
"You obviously don't, or else you vouldn't have argued, now vould you?"
"I…fine. I'll play," Hermione muttered, wondering what she was going to tell him. Could she tell him the truth? How would he react? Should she even chance it?
"Great!" Viktor exclaimed, his normal gleaming smile back in place. "Vould you like to go first?"
"No, no…you go," Hermione muttered.
"Alright…the truth is…I'm not good vith magic," he murmured, very softly. So softly, in fact, that she had to lean forward to hear him.
"You…what? Of course you are, I've seen you," Hermione argued.
"You've seen me do very simple things vith a vand. That's about as good as it gets. They almost labeled me a Squib until they saw my ability to vork a broom. Being a Quidditch player, I rarely have to use magic. It von't impair me too much," he said with an air of finality, his look daring her to laugh at him, daring her to refuse to stay with him any longer.
She surprised him by saying, "That doesn't make you any less of a wizard, Viktor. I'm used to prejudice, being a muggle-born. You didn't think I'd actually care if you weren't good with magic, did you?"
"I…no, but you are the first person I've ever told. I didn't know how you'd react. But never mind that now. Vat is your secret?" he whispered, his eyes glittering in anticipation.
Hermione took a deep breath. How badly could he take it? If worse came to worse, she'd Obliviate him until he forgot all about it.
Slowly, carefully, Hermione freed her well kept secret. She watched as Viktor grew white. She knew he believed her. She also knew he was shocked and it would take him a while to become comfortable about the idea.
Which is why she was baffled when he suddenly smiled spitefully. "You made a mistake in trusting me, Herm-own-ninny."
She thought he was kidding. She knew it wasn't a funny joke. But she thought it a joke nonetheless. That is, until he sneered, "You realize you just handed me blackmail, do you not? Silly, stupid girl. I almost feel sorry for you. Almost. Oh, ve're going to have fun, Herm-own-ninny. Be sure of that."
He'd Apparated them both to his Manor, dragging her along by the hair. She was too shocked to struggle, or even focus on her location, until she felt her arms being forced above her head. She tried to pull them back to her sides only to grow frustrated when they remained where they were. She soon saw that she was cuffed to a pipe that led across the chilly stone basement of the Manor.
Hermione tried to plead with him. "Viktor…Viktor, what's going on? What are you doing, Viktor? Let me go, now," she whispered.
He laughed humorlessly. "Now, vhyvould I do a thing like that, Herm-own-ninny? No, but I vill tell you the rules."
"Rules?Rules for what?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Vatever I do to you, vatever I tell you to do, you vill comply. In fact, you vill not do anything other than scream. Yes, I vill allow you to scream. I'll rather like the sound, I think. If you do not do as I ask, I vill make a small cut on your stomach. Am I clear?" he whispered menacingly.
Clear? Clear? If he was trying to tell her he was a sick, perverted bastard, than yes, clear as glass.
"Why my stomach?" Hermione asked through the steady trail of tears that had begun, trying to by herself some time.
"It is the most unlikely place to be seen, you see. But I'm afraid I did not ask you if you had any qvestions. I asked you if I was being clear. You've earned your first cut. A simply V, I think, for Viktor," he whispered with a grin.
Hermione didn't have time to blink before she felt an agonizing pain in the middle of her stomach, followed by a trickle of warm liquid.
That was when she began to scream.
"Now, Herm-own-ninny," he said over her cries, "I will give you von chance to beg for your virginity to remain intact. Grovel, now."
Hermione, mustering all her courage and trying to grasp her fleeing dignity, said calmly, "I do not beg, you bastard."
He gave a cry of rage and began carving, more intensely this time, more deeply, into her stomach. Through the blood and the pain, Hermione vaguely saw him undoing his pants, and then tearing at her skirt. That was when she slipped into the welcome realms of the unconscious.