Plot: A sequel to 'Her Memory' (previous chapter)

Hermione made it out of the Dungeons at Malfoy Manor once. Can she manage it again a year later, or has her luck run out?

Notes:

That's right guys. I have done a sequel to the previous chapter. Don't be getting ideas. I don't want to be writing too many sequels because the beauty of the one shot and the thing I like about them is that you get a resolution right away. It's a word of its own.

BUT… in this case… I thought this story had some more to it. And I think a few of you agree (based on your reviews).

I hope you like it!

Disclaimer:

M for adult themes. Lemons. Violence and Torture.

I don't own Harry Potter or make money from these stories. I am paid in your reviews and love!

Her Memory Part II

Hermione was alone in the blackness. She imagined that if she could see, she would observe her breath making white puffs from her mouth. It was cold. Really cold. But she was too tired to care.

Nothing mattered anymore anyway. They would win no matter what the Dark Lord did.

She knew she was in a dungeon by the roughness of the walls and the hardness of the bed beneath her. That, and she had been plucked from the battlefield by a Death Eater while she kicked and screamed.

When you were taken by them, there was only one place you went. To the dungeon. She wondered which dungeon she had been taken to and how long she had been there.

The Goyles'? The Notts'? God forbid… not Malfoy Manor.

Her stomach sank at the thought. She had it on good authority that Draco had been out for her blood since she stole his book a year prior. It had been quite the embarrassment for he and his familiars.

Her worst fears were confirmed when the heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing the handsome face of Draco Malfoy, illuminated by the candle he was holding.

Hermione sighed loudly as she looked at him, but she didn't move or flinch.

"Oh. I'm here again then," she said, devoid of feeling.

"Yes, you are. Do you find the accommodations to be passable?" He said, cruelly gesturing to the filthy cell.

"The view could be better," she joked, pointing to the solid stone walls. "I suppose you're here to kill me then?" She added.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, enjoying the view of her crumbled in the corner of the tiny cell.

"The last time I saw you, I fooled you into shagging me and then I stole from you as you slept," She answered matter-of-factly. "You don't like that kind of thing."

"Indeed, you did," he replied coldly, his wand trained on her.

All she did was sigh and close her eyes as she slumped further onto the wall behind the filthy cot.

For fucks sake. Could he never get this witch to be afraid of him? Was she somehow immune? It just wouldn't do. It wasn't right. Everyone feared him. Everyone!

"Why are you so relaxed?" He asked, hardly standing her reaction.

"Death isn't the worst thing that could happen to me. I've seen so much worse by now. Years of this war. I'm tired. I don't care anymore. Though, I suppose you're going to make it hurt, for what I did. Am I right?" She asked, a calm melancholy in her tone.

"I was planning to," he confessed.

Hermione let out a small bitter laugh.

"I accept the consequences of my actions. As you will soon enough for your own. You know we're about to win this war, right?" she asked tauntingly.

As a matter of fact, he did know that. It's why he jumped ship and defected days ago. 'Complete immunity', was the term Kingsley had used. All he had to do was shaft a bunch of Death Eaters he didn't care about.

Of course, they had no idea the depth of the atrocities he himself had committed. He was going to get away with it. All of it.

But the Dark Lord didn't know that yet. And Granger certainly didn't.

Regardless of his arrangement with Kingsley and the second chance he was soon to be afforded - he was still a dark wizard, and she needed to be punished for making a fool of him.

This was personal.

Draco's resolve had weakened since he saw her again. He wasn't expecting her to inspire such a physical response in him.

He had planned to Crucio her into near madness and then take pity on the poor wretch by killing her in the dungeon. He'd even stolen a servant's wand to do it with, so, if the Order ever recovered her body, he could deny he was involved or that the magic came from him at all.

But now, looking at her, he remembered the way she felt wrapped around him a year prior.

Did he want to kill the best lay he ever had? He was likely to live well beyond this war. Unsatisfied, if she wasn't around.

Of course, he knew what this meant. The mudblood had become a weakness. Their sexual connection had clouded his judgement and was now impacting his plans.

His ability to detach from everyone and everything was what made him a ruthless and impactful leader. She had undermined it. He knew what his mentor, the Dark Lord, would say about a scenario such as this. Destroy all weakness. End her, and you will grow. Her demise would be his strength.

Once again, he lifted his wand, ready to end her life.

Hermione looked at him evenly. She knew what was coming, she had to.

"Any last words mudblood?" He asked menacingly.

"Well, I doubt you're going to tell my loved ones I was thinking about them - so I guess I'll speak directly to you then," she said.

Draco looked at her impatiently. He wanted to get it over with and set about accepting his lot in life as a man who would never again be truly satisfied by a witch.

It's not like he hadn't tried. In the year since their encounter, he'd ordered a procession of witches to his bedroom. They'd all willingly thrown themselves at his feet. They'd let him do whatever he wanted with them. But it was no good. None of them satisfied him as she had.

It was such a shame his honour dictated he needed her blood on his hands for stealing from and deceiving him. It was such a shame that he wasn't the type of wizard who could have weaknesses for anyone, let alone someone like her.

"Hurry it up Granger," he spat.

Hermione glared at him. "I was only going to say…thanks for the shag," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. She was mocking him. She had used her final moments to mock him.

Draco let out a cold laugh.

"Thanks for the shag? Those will be your last words?" He asked, incredulous.

"Did you expect me to beg?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes were burning like cigarettes.

"I had hoped," he conceded.

It was now her turn to laugh.

"I think you know me better than that!" She said facetiously.

"Really? And here I was thinking I didn't know you at all," he hit back.

Gods. He shouldn't be engaging with her. He had a job to do.

"I think you have a better picture than most," she said seriously.

Draco lowered his wand slightly.

Was she implying that he had been right in his assessment all those months ago? The innocent and angelic scholarly image she presented was her mask? The witch he met was the real her?

"You mean, Weasley doesn't indulge you in the right amount of pain with your pleasure?... I'm shocked," he said sardonically.

"Just hurry up and kill me," she snapped, staring daggers into him.

He loved it when she was irritated. Always had. Why else would he have bothered to do it so much back in their school days?

"I'm right aren't I? You're bored," accused Draco.

"What does it matter? As you've pointed out - I'm about to be dead" she spat. "Hardly any room for boredom then, wouldn't you say?"

She still wasn't afraid of him. That was a…disappointment.

He was hoping his last murder before the end of the war would be the jewel in the crown.
That he could stand over her while she whimpered and begged for her life.
Then hide the body and plead ignorance to Potter for the rest of his life. Secretly taking pleasure in knowing where she was and what he had done.

He had been so looking forward to it. And she was ruining it by throwing him for a loop.

Unfazed.
Unafraid.
Uninterested.

She wasn't giving him what he wanted.

That's when it clicked. It was deliberate. She knew what he wanted and was deliberately denying it to him.

On the one hand this infuriated him. On the other, it was grounds to be impressed. Twice now she had read him like a book. No one else had ever successfully done that.

"You know what you're doing Granger. Clever witch," he said, flashing her a knowing look.

Hermione opened her eyes and smiled. "It took you a while," she replied.

"Any last requests?" He asked, subconsciously stalling the inevitable.

"I suppose a shag is off the cards?" She asked evenly.

Draco, usually wearing a careful mask of indifference, gawped at her.

"What?" He asked.

"A shag? You know... you and me... in this dungeon..." she said, a sexy edge to her voice.

"You're trying to escape again," he said.

Hermione laughed bitterly.

"Not this time. And no one's coming for me either. But I've been thinking about that night in your room for a year now... and I wouldn't mind one last go at it, if it's all the same to you," she confessed.

Draco felt a spike of annoyance at the idea that she had been with other wizards. He could live with Weasel, who he knew probably couldn't shag his way out of a paper bag… but other wizards? He didn't like that at all.

"You're hoping I will lose my nerve. That I won't kill you," he said, keeping his wand in place.

"Anyone facing death hopes that they can avoid it," said Hermione. "But I'm your prisoner, and I don't expect you to change your mind. If it is the end, such is the way of things. But in my final moments, however long they shall be, I wish to be honest," she continued, her voice was strong and unafraid. "I want you again. I shouldn't, but I do. And I won't deny myself the things I want, especially at a time like this… come on Draco, I know you must think about it too. That night. Don't you want to make use of me? Just once more?" she purred.

"This won't save you," he said forcefully.

"I'm past wanting that," said Hermione, with conviction.

Her perfect white skin was marred by the grime of the dungeon, but that added to the experience for him.

He had ordered her to take off the filthy slip she was wearing and get on her knees in front of him.

He still held his wand, in half a mind to end her where she knelt.

But he didn't.

Instead he stored it safely and unclasped his belt, allowing his trousers to drop.

His prisoner eyed his erect manhood appreciatively and licked her lips.

"Show me what a good prisoner you can be, Hermione," he said smoothly, wrapping his hand in her wild hair and guiding her mouth to him.

Instead of in her mouth, he came on her breasts. He couldn't escape the desire to soil her as much as possible in the grimy dungeon.

He was getting off on the symbolism of it all.

Hermione stayed on her knees and looked up at him, waiting for what was next.

"Do you like being in your natural state mudblood? In my dungeon? Covered in filth and my come?" He asked, pulling her up by her hair.

Hermione whimpered and let out a gratified moan.

"Yes," she breathed.

Draco felt himself stiffen again.

"Yes what?" He asked.

Hermione turned to him and rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he replied, glaring.

"Yes, Sir," she huffed.

Satisfied, he pulled her towards the bed. The term bed was probably an overstatement given it was essentially a metal board with a dirty blanket on it.

Draco made a disgusted grunt as he flicked the blanket into the floor, leaving only the exposed metal.

He wanted to take her to his room, but had to admit the dungeon was fulfilling one of his longer held fantasises, so he dealt with the grime.

Draco sat on the bench, able to rest his back on the wall and stretch his long legs down the length of the bed.

Hermione climbed on and straddled him, goose bumps over her skin from the frigid air of the dungeon.

In a rare moment of consideration, he reached for his wand and performed a warming charm. After all, it's not like he wouldn't benefit from a witch that wasn't freezing to death anyway.

Her eyes rolled backwards as she took him deep inside of her, slowly enjoying every inch.

Her mouth opened to make a soft 'O', which Draco found to be irresistibly sexy.
He captured her lips with his and engaged her in a slow, sensuous kiss.

It was less violent than their last exchange. They were less frantic, each enjoying the feel of the other.

He didn't restrain her this time - her predicament in the dungeon enough to debase her in his mind.

Instead he watched her rock up and down on him, closing her eyes and throwing her head back.

His seed glistened on her chest which was thrust forward as she arched her back. His hands gripped her thighs tightly as he observed her.

"You like that?" He demanded, wrapping his hand possessively around the back of her neck.

Hermione let out a grunt and moaned.

"Yes, Oh fuck. Yes," she yelled, nearing her peak.

The noise didn't matter. He'd killed anyone who knew he had her and silenced the place anyway.

They were truly alone.

"That's right Hermione, tell me how good it feels," he said, using his thumb to stimulate her sensitive bud. He needed to see her come undone.

She began to moan and ramble incoherently, her pace increasing.

"Ahhh... ohhhh... mmmmmm... fuck... don't make me stop... ahhhh... please ... don't make me stop Draco," she cried, her desperate moans clawing at the still air in the dungeon.

"I won't," He promised, dropping his head back as he felt her muscles fluttering around him.

She pressed her forehead to his as she came down off her high. Her breathing was ragged and she looked exhausted. She probably hadn't slept or eaten well in the dungeon prior to his arrival, he thought idly.

"You're not finished," she whispered into his ear, deliberately using her muscles to squeeze him inside of her. It caused him to let out a grunt.

"I want you to see," said the minx seductively as she got up and turned around, now straddling him in reverse. Draco slumped against the wall more for a better view.

Hermione dropped low to her knees and learned forward, giving Draco a perfect view of her womanhood.

Draco immediately sunk his fingers into her and watched the show as she rocked back and forward to him.

"You're a filthy witch," he said, indulging in the voyeurism of the scene in front of him.

"So you keep reminding me," she gasped as he added more digits.

"Look at you, stretching for me," he said lecherously.

"Mmmhmmmm," she moaned, "more."

Draco removed his fingers and guided her lower body back down so she could ride him again.

From this angle he could watch her expand and retract around him each time.

He could feel his mind going blank as he watched the petite witch continuously swallow him whole, basking in the debauchery of it all. What they were doing was twisted. He loved it.

Draco grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her backwards so her body contorted and arched for him while she continued her rhythmic movements with her pelvis.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he spat, thrusting upwards.

The last thing he heard before an explosion of light behind his eyes was the sound of Hermione coming again.

"Where are we?" Asked Hermione, hiding her fear.

After they were done in the dungeon he had immediately apparated them to a clearing in the woods somewhere.

Draco's expression was cold.

This was it. He was going to kill her. Her time was up.

"Lay down and open your legs," he demanded.

"What?" She asked, now thoroughly confused. Wasn't this her execution?

"You heard me," he spat. Without much of an option, she did as he said, humiliating as it was.

That's when she saw the knife.

"Draco, no!" She screamed, crying out as she felt the blade cut her inner thigh.

She made to struggle but he'd used magic to pin her down.

The corners of his mouth turned upwards as he continued his assault.

Hermione's screams could be heard throughout the eerily still woods.

But no one would come to her rescue today.

Draco stood back and smirked at his work.

Hermione's eyes were glassy and fixed to the sky, the dungeon grime on her face was now tear streaked.

She was still covered in his seed, both on her chest and also dripping from her opening, mingling with the blood that was dripping from the wound he had inflected on her inner thigh.

It was brutal, but he couldn't let her simply get away with stealing from him and making a fool of him with her lies.

He knew she was in pain by her shallow breathing. But she didn't make a sound.

True to her character, despite the horrific situation he had put her in, she didn't beg. She didn't whimper. She didn't break. He couldn't break her. She was too hard.

Hermione simply laid there, in acceptance of her fate. Defiantly looking at the sky.

Her strength had been the reason he mutilated her, rather than end her life.

Hermione Granger was far too exquisite to die. She needed to continue to live.

Draco covered her damaged body with his cloak and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Don't cry angel," he purred, a smirk on his handsome face.

She returned his gaze with hatred. It didn't seem to bother him.

It was then that he did something curious.

He kissed her on the forehead, released her from her magical bind, and apparated away.

Hermione was now alone in the woods. Her wand flung down beside her. His absence was unnerving and she felt a sense of total loneliness and despair the likes of which she had never endured.

He had spared her life, but she felt hollow.

As the shock washed over her, relief and anger raged through her body. Slowly, she became aware of the stinging between her thighs.

Hermione sat up and opened her legs to look at the damage. To see what her punishment she had endured for her earlier mission.

Her eyes widened in horror when she saw it.

There, sliced into her skin, in clear and jagged initials, were the letters DM.

In that moment she knew that whatever it was between them was not over. It never would be.

Instead of killing her, he had branded her as his own.

"Fuck," she breathed, slumping back to stare at the sky once more.

I almost feel like there could be a part three… I mean, I have some thoughts…but that's a bit out of hand for a series of one shots… or is it?

Please review and keep the suggestions coming!