Plot:
Hermione never made it out of the Manor. Unhappy with her progress in getting information from Hermione with the Cruciatus Curse, Bellatrix Lestrange decides to let a Death Eater break the girl the muggle way.
Request:
This came from a Guest so I can't credit.
I am always conscious about non-con requests. My personal opinion is that there is entirely too much of it in this fandom – and whilst I respect people's right to consume whatever content they want (so long as others are not hurt), I respectfully do not want to contribute to it. For me, it's a hard boundary.
Though my regular readers will know at times I will explore dub-con.
Among the many similar requests I have had, I found this to be the best for me in terms of being able to not compromise my values, but still write you guys the kind of story you're clearly hoping for. A little dark, but with enough redemption (and consent) to not go to a place that is entirely too black for me to put into the world.
This is a story of dubious consent (coercion).
If this is a trigger for you, please, skip this chapter.
*Request at base of story to avoid spoilers*
Notes:
There were several other fun reviews I have flagged to possibly action when I get to the next story.
I have replied to some comments at the end.
Disclaimer: This is rated M for very mature content. I don't own HP. Please do not read if issues of imprisonment or dubious consent are of issue to you.
Unspeakable Things
She was unceremoniously thrown into an opulent room, dressed only in the lingerie she had been forced to wear.
She'd heard about what Bellatrix had planned for her of course, the guards in the Malfoy family dungeons had been taunting her with it for days.
Because she hadn't given in under crucio, Bellatrix had decided to break her another way. Thinking that physical violence of the worst kind could provide a solution.
In other words, since the muggle girl wouldn't give in to magical curses, perhaps she'd give in to good old-fashioned muggle violence.
A simple spell had also proven Hermione was a virgin, something she was taunted for endlessly and only making matters far worse for her.
No wonder no one had fucked her given her dirty blood.
No wonder no one had fucked her given her poor looks.
No wonder no had had fucked her given her terrible personality.
Or some kind of toxic mix of the above.
It wasn't their usual modus operandi, but they were obsessed enough with getting to Harry Potter, Hermione had it on good authority that plenty of the male Death Eaters put up their hands to 'rattle the mudblood's cage.'
Apparently, several of them were particularly excited by her age (only seventeen) and untouched status. The guard who tormented her the most certainly insinuated that she might not make it out of there alive, given the enthusiastic workover they'd all planned to give her, should they be so lucky as to be chosen for the task.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a calming breath as she began to lift herself up from the marble floor, not ready to meet her fate, but accepting of it.
That's when she felt a set of strong arms grab her from behind and hoist her up, before she could even fight back he had covered her mouth with his hand and was pulling her toward the bed.
"Granger, don't struggle! I'm trying to help you. You stupid bint!" hissed a voice she instantly recognised, causing her to become rigid in his arms. A cold bolt of terror went through her.
Swiftly, he turned her around and plunked her down abruptly on the luxurious four-poster bed, leaning down so he could continue to cover her mouth.
She could feel her eyes bulging as she looked up at his familiar, impassive face. Things had well and truly gone from worse, to catastrophically fucked up.
"You don't even understand the favour I have done you here Granger," he said coolly, removing his hand from her mouth when he was content that she wouldn't make a scene.
Not that anyone was around to hear it anyway. His mother had silenced the room. She thought it distasteful to hear the screaming that would no doubt come from the young witch at the hands of her son.
Hermione said nothing, simply looking at him with hatred in her eyes.
"I'll elaborate, shall I?" he said, making it clear he had a firm grasp of his wand, should she decide to be stupid enough to make a run for it.
She crossed her arms, closing her body to him as she continued her silence.
"The competition was fairly tough for you Granger… a number of senior Death Eater's rather liked the sound of the task, given your age and… condition," he said, alluding to her in-tact virginity.
Hermione closed her eyes and then slowly reopened them, visibly horrified by either what he was telling her, or himself in general.
"But of course, given who my Father is… I found it easy enough to be awarded the honour of… breaking the mudblood," he said, seeing no need to shield her from the truth of it.
They'd have told her in the dungeons anyway.
"In fact, he was pleased I stepped up. It's not normally the kind of task I would volunteer for," he admitted, hoping she'd say something soon.
"For fucks sake Granger, say something," he snapped, glaring at the girl, who looked much smaller than he remembered as she teetered in the edge of his large bed.
"Are you then?" she asked, her voice small.
"What? Going to fuck you?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, unwilling to look him in the eye.
Feeling somewhat sorry for the girl, he crouched down to look at her at eye level.
"Granger. They'll do the spell again tomorrow. If it comes up that I didn't do this, I'll end up dead, and maybe my family too. I've got about as much choice here as you. So yes, I am," he said, hoping she could at least understand that. Maybe not forgive it, but understand it perhaps.
"Why volunteer for it then, if you didn't want to do it?" she asked accusingly. She clearly thought little of him, which was a fair assessment given his treatment of her and allegiance in the war.
"I'd heard the others talking. What they'd do to you. Trading tips on how to make it hurt more. Honestly Granger, I wasn't sure you'd come out of it alive. So, I did you a favour, and put my hand up knowing I would almost certainly be given the task," he explained.
Hermione flinched as he reached forward and brushed some hair out of her face. She did look rather lovely. They'd chosen lingerie that made his cock twitch. He was only seventeen after all, he hadn't seen that many witches in this state – although he was not as inexperienced as Hermione.
"Granger. I am not going to die for you. I am going to take it," he said, emphasising the word 'it' (meaning her virginity), "with or without your consent, but I would FAR prefer you give it to me willingly," he said matter-of-factly. He wasn't threatening her, so much as laying out their options.
If he had to do it the hard way, he would. Draco had committed to do this task for the Dark Lord. There was no option for failure.
"And if I comply," she asked, her brilliant mind clearly working a mile a minute to calculate her best option – although it was clear to Draco which was the better option.
"If you comply, I'll do my best to make it painless for you… but I am going to have to leave some marks on you, so they don't suspect we've come to this kind of arrangement… Aunt Bella doesn't trust me she thinks I'm… weak," he admitted.
Hermione snorted and looked away, bitterness written into her pretty features.
Draco sighed loudly.
"Go and have a shower. I doubt you get such facilities in the dungeon. Think it over. I'll be waiting," he said firmly, walking to his desk to fetch the scotch in his drawer. If she decided she wanted to make it hard for the both of them, he was going to need some Dutch-courage.
When she returned from the shower, she said nothing. She simply returned to her original position on the bed and looked at him, wringing her hands nervously.
"What is it to be then Granger?" asked Draco, holding his scotch loosely and unclasping his belt.
"You can… um…. Have…my… er," she said, blushing.
Granger was a confident witch, but clearly completely inexperienced in such matters. Not that Draco was particularly experienced at coercing witches to bed with him using the threat of rape and death either.
Obviously, It wasn't an ideal situation for either party.
Regardless, he was relieved he didn't have to hold the witch down. At least they could be civil about it.
He'd only shagged three witches himself. Two at Hogwarts and a French witch who was a friend of the family when on holidays.
Draco enjoyed sex, but he wasn't as enamoured with it as some of his other friends. His mind was usually too preoccupied with the Dark Lord anyway.
None of his previous conquests had been virgins, so this was new territory for Draco, though he knew he needed to be gentle with her.
Pansy had told him about how it all worked when he owled her for advice about his Granger dilemma. Though he hadn't told her it would be Granger he would be deflowering, and under what circumstances.
"You're very pretty when you blush," he said, lifting her chin to encourage her to look at him.
He didn't feel very confident, but Granger was certainly in no position to take the lead, so he knew he needed to step up.
She swallowed loudly and looked at him expectantly.
Draco took her hand and encouraged her to lie back on the bed, wandlessly vanishing her knickers, but leaving her bra. He figured she might like some kind of cover for her first time.
Hermione screwed her eyes shut tightly, as if expecting some sudden rush of pain. Or perhaps she was just embarrassed, either way, he left her be.
He crawled over her, planting his knees either side of her hips, and began to kiss her neck from the ear to collar bone, changing sides periodically.
Each time, he would come closer and closer to what he really wanted –her plump breasts, which poured over the lace bra tantalisingly.
When he rolled the top of the fabric down to take one of her nipples between his lips, he heard a soft moan from her. He was instantly hard. She sounded fucking gorgeous.
Draco looked up, and saw she still had her eyes shut. He wondered if perhaps she was pretending it was someone else. Perhaps Ron Weasley. He shuddered. That wasn't worth thinking about.
He kissed his way down her stomach until finally, he pulled her legs apart, settling between them to get her ready for him.
He felt her tense and try to close her legs, grabbing his head.
"You don't need to…" she began, looking down at him with pleading eyes.
"Has anyone ever done this for you?" Draco asked.
"Yes… once..." she admitted. This was an interesting development in Draco's mind. Perhaps it was Krum?
"Then you know, that this will make it better for you when it's time," he said, looking at her seriously, despite his position next to her naked sex.
"I know but…" she began to protest.
"Do you want it to hurt when I fuck you Granger, yes or no?" he asked, losing patience. He hadn't done this many times, and frankly, the fact he was going out of his way for the mudblood witch was already agitating him enough.
"No," she admittedly quietly.
"Well then," said Draco, yanking her legs apart again, not bothering to be as gentle as he had the first time.
Hermione gasped, arched her back and moaned, enjoying the feeling of his hands holding her legs wide open as he enthusiastically licked her clean.
She'd given up pretending it didn't feel incredible a few minutes prior. This was far better than the time Harry did it for her when they were on the run, both frustrated and pissed at Ron, they had given in to their basic teenage hormones and fumbled around with each other orally.
They were inexperienced and not overly attracted to each other – so overall it had made for a lacklustre experience. But this, this was something else entirely.
She knew she shouldn't enjoy it, as she was essentially coerced into it in favour of a far more violent alternative, but it didn't change the fact that she could feel an orgasm building deep in her core.
Hermione rocked against him as he held her steady, his long piano fingers sprawled over her flat stomach, keeping her firmly in place as her body jolted in pleasure.
With his other hand, he stroked her wet folds, teasing her with the promise of entrance.
"More," she gasped, not bothering to hide the fact that she was enjoying it from Draco. That ship had well and truly sailed.
Unless Harry and Ron managed to stage a rescue mission in the next day or two, she knew she was as good as dead anyway, why not enjoy what might be her only shag in her short life?
Draco groaned against her, giving her what she wanted and slipping two of his elegant piano fingers into her without ceremony, and running circles around her bud with his thumb.
She figured he must have been more experienced than she initially thought, given his clear expertise in this area.
Hermione bit her tongue to keep from screaming as an orgasm the likes of which she had never had exploded through her body, causing her to push her pelvis up against the hand Draco used to hold her down.
She swore she felt him smile against her entrance as he continued to lap up her juices, letting her ride out the last of her pleasure.
Hermione was still panting, running her hands through her own hair when he crawled back to her, pressing his lips to hers.
He'd never enjoyed giving head so much. She was so responsive to every touch.
In the past he had done it as preliminary to the main event. Something he felt obligated to do and knew would make the witch he was with feel better when he got inside her. He would spend the entire time thinking about what came next, rather than enjoying the act of giving.
This was the first time he had enjoyed the act itself. From holding her petite frame to the bed as she squirmed in pleasure to the breathy moans she let out – fucking her with his mouth had been exquisite, to the extent that he was disappointed when she came, as he could have happily stayed down there longer.
Her wetness still coated his fingers, and he wasn't sure where the impulse came from, but he pressed one to her lips, hoping she would give him entrance.
Hermione obliged, letting him slip them into her mouth. He watched in awe as the little minx sucked them clean, all whilst pressing herself against the outline of his erection, which strained against his briefs. He'd long since divested himself of his trousers and shirt.
"Fuck Granger," he said, watching her mouth close around his fingers and wondered what that same feeling would be like on his cock.
He'd not had much of that either. Pureblood darlings were not very giving in the early stages of courtship. They didn't start with regular favours until they thought there was a chance at marrying into the vault.
As if reading his mind, she let his fingers drop from her mouth and whispered in his ear. "Do you want me to return the favour?" she asked, running her hand down his slim but firm chest to the elastic of his briefs.
"Not now…" he said, wondering if he would regret that later. She seemed to be enjoying herself, so he was banking on her letting him have her again – therefore decided it was better to focus his attention on relieving her of her virginity, and ultimately fulfilling his requirement to the Dark Lord.
He vanished his briefs and looked at her. She had a brilliant flush on her cheeks and over her chest from his previous attentions.
He could not believe that he just let the Gryffindor darling, and the Dark Lord's second most wanted, cum on his face. And that he had loved every second of it.
His father would have him drawn and quartered if he knew.
But right now, all he could think about was her wet entrance, which he gently pushed against.
"Are you ready?" he asked, dipping his head again to her hard nipples and giving one a suck, eliciting a sweet little groan. Merlin, the noises this witch made. He'd never heard them before.
He was starting to accept that either the witches he had shagged weren't very good at it, or Hermione was somehow naturally, superior to them all.
"Yes," she said, closing her eyes and turning her head, as if bracing herself.
Draco used his index finger to coax her to look at him.
"I want to see your face," he said, unashamed to admit what he wanted. He wanted to see the moment he popped her cherry, so to speak.
Hermione nodded, submitting to his will. But then again, she had to, didn't she? He thought darkly.
He began to slowly enter her, stopping only when he met the barrier.
Hermione looked up at him and nodded, and with one hard thrust he irrevocably split the barrier of her innocence.
Hermione let out a slight yelp and dug her nails into his back. He couldn't help but enjoy the stinging feeling where her nails had been.
Resting for a moment, he gave her time to adjust to him, the sensation, and whatever pain she was in.
He felt her tug at his hair and he looked down at her beautiful form. "I'm glad it was you," she breathed, capturing his lips.
Draco let himself get lost in the kiss, enjoying the sensation of her tongue dancing with his, while she slowly rocked against his impossibly hard staff.
It didn't take her long to get over the pain and throw herself into what they were doing completely.
Objectively she knew sex felt good, and she knew the orgasms she gave herself felt great, but this was mind blowing.
Once he realised she didn't need to be treated as a fragile object anymore, he began to fuck her harder and harder until she was screaming his name.
Draco had taken her over and over again, all over the room. Sometimes he was rough, sometimes he was tender. She never knew which it would be, which only added to the pleasure of it for her.
She found she enjoyed the loss of control, simply going along for the ride.
It was as though they were puzzle pieces that just fit. There was no explanation for it. It just was that way.
Hermione winced as the rope around her wrists tightened while he fucked her from behind, the rope tearing at her skin, still tethered to the bedhead. He still needed to make it look like she hadn't said yes, after all.
"Harder," she moaned, gasping as he thrust into her viciously, grabbing her hair and pulling.
"You like this Granger?" he asked, his voice husky and full of dark promise.
She wondered if he had done this kind of thing before.
"Yes," she groaned, using her knees to press back against him as hard as she could.
"You're so good at this," he breathed, "I wish you knew how good you felt."
"Do you like fucking me Draco?" she asked, wondering when she went from being terrified of this to a willing, enthusiastic participant.
It turned out she loved sex, and he was really, really good at it.
"You have no idea," he whispered forebodingly, ghosting his fingers around her neck. "I told you what I had to do," he added.
He pulled his hand away from her neck when he was sure he'd choked a bruise around it. His Aunt needed to see signs of cruelty, or she just wouldn't buy it.
Hermione gasped for air, but continued to rock her hips, inviting him to finish inside of her again for the umpteenth time that night.
Draco hadn't expected too enjoy it this much, or to be as good at it as he felt he was.
He'd never done some of the things he and Granger were doing – but with every new, deviant exploration he watched in awe as the girl moaned, groaned, gasped and sighed her way through it.
Hermione Granger was a bit of a sex goddess, for lack of a better term, and he felt an odd sense of pride in having unlocked it.
That was until he remembered why he had unlocked it.
He released the bindings, checking her wrists looked suitably damaged and then rolled her onto her back so he could look at her when he finished. He'd discovered he'd liked doing that earlier in the night.
"You know I'm not the hero in this story Granger," he breathed, slowing his thrusts.
"Yes," she said, groaning as rubbed one of her breasts roughly.
"I want to live, and I want my mother to live, more than I care for you," he admitted, kissing her neck.
"I understand," she said, arching her back and adjusting her legs to take him more deeply.
Draco groaned and gripped her thighs.
"Just so long as you know, come morning, I am taking you back down there," he said, referring to the dungeons.
"I know Draco," she said, kissing him again – for what felt like the last time.
Four Years Later
Hermione sat in the Spiny Serpent stewing over her evening.
She'd been on yet another shite date and wanted to let off some steam. She'd started coming here a few years after the war, finding it to be discreet. No one would take photographs of her here. No stories about what she did and who with would pop up in the Prophet. They were very specific about who they let in.
In fact, it had not gone over well that she was there at all at first – but she'd managed to seduce the manager into giving her access, and one by one she won over the regulars with drinks, Ministry favours (of the harmless variety) and the one off sexual favour on occasion.
She just needed to a place to be that wasn't home, work, the Burrow or some other place with Harry and the others.
Since the war, everything had been artificially perfect. Sure, on the anniversary of the battle they had ceremonies, mourned the dead and so on. But then life went back to normal. They moved on with their lives, and many pretended as though nothing had ever happened.
It felt profoundly wrong to Hermione. Things should have stayed fucked up for longer. They should have stayed fucked up for longer.
But the only one who stayed that way, so far as she knew, was her.
Though she kept that fact very quiet.
She looked around at the clientele, wondering if anyone would perhaps bend her over the basin of the filthy restroom for an unsatisfying but much needed shag. Increasingly, she'd found sex was an outlet for her frustration at the state of things.
It had been years since he set foot in London. Draco had been cleared of all charge after the war was won by Potter's side, with the help of Granger of course, who was rescued from the Manor dungeons a few days after their night of violent delights.
The fact that he was underage at the time, coupled with Granger giving Kingsley (the new Minister) a vague story that he had given her aid at the Manor (the nature of which she didn't wish to disclose) and a much later incident where he 'failed' to identify Potter, they decided he was not a willing participant or Death Eater.
That wasn't true of course. He had been willing – enjoying many of the spoils of war. He'd enjoyed the money and power. He'd enjoyed the items pillaged from rich half-bloods and muggleborns.
And of course, he couldn't forget the night that he enjoyed the jewel in the crown – Hermione Granger – the best gift of all.
But in the end, it wasn't for him. The regime was too brutal and he didn't really believe in the underlying principles anyway. He was fundamentally just a self-interested and morally ambiguous person, he didn't have a fanatical bone in his body.
When in London he liked to lay low. There were still far too many people around who thought ill of him, and he had no desire to get lynched in Diagon Alley.
With that in mind, he snuck into an old haunt and sympathetic space for ex-Death Eaters, the Spiny Serpent.
Creeping through a little-known back entrance, he approached Reg, the manager for a drink.
"Draco Malfoy, a sight for sore eyes, although tonight might not be the best night for you to be here!" cautioned the portly man.
"What do you mean Reg… is this place no longer the correct establishment for those with my background?" he asked casually, raising an eyebrow.
"You'll always be welcome here," replied Reg, "but I don't want any trouble between you and her," he said, nodding in Hermione's direction.
"What is Granger doing here?" hissed Malfoy, entirely unprepared to run into her, of all people, in a place like that.
If the papers were to be believed, she was on track to be Minister of Magic one day in the not so distant future. She had no business being in a shady bar like the Serpent.
"Been one of my regulars for years," said Reg, shrugging.
"You let HER in HERE?" he asked, stunned Reg would risk it.
"Well, she was pretty er…convincing, if you get my drift," he replied conspiratorially, raising an eyebrow. Draco made a sour expression. Hermione fucking Reg was not an image he wanted again in his lifetime.
"I see," said Draco, glancing in her direction.
"I just don't want any trouble. Looks like she's had a rough night by the amount of whiskey she's had," said Reg.
"What does she do here?" asked Draco, curious about Granger's personal life.
He'd always assumed she would marry Weasley and have multiple Weasel children, but he had learned upon his return that they had split not long after the war. She appeared to have devoted herself to her career, and he never saw much else about her.
He supposed that was because she handled her personal business in the Serpent.
"Blows off steam I think," she said Reg, smirking, "in fact, see those two over there?" asked Reg, pointing in the direction of two burly wizards who were presently engaged in wizards' chess. "Yeah, what about them?" Draco responded.
"One night, she let both of them take turns on her in the bathroom," he gossiped.
Draco's eyebrows shot into his hairline. So, this is what she had been doing with herself since their night together…
"Well Reg, no need to worry. Granger and I are fine with each other. Shared a few experiences in the war… if you catch my drift…" said Draco enjoying the shocked look on the man's face.
"When you were a…" he trailed off, not wanting to say the words. Death Eater.
Draco nodded.
"Merlin. Goes to show. You never know what people get up to behind closed doors!" he exclaimed without judgement, heading to the back to change a keg.
"What is a nice witch like you, doing in a place like this?" asked Draco, sliding into the seat next to Hermione. She felt her spine stiffen immediately. She knew it was him on voice alone.
"Malfoy… what are you doing here?" she asked, turning the to blonde.
"I believe I asked you first Granger," he shot back. He reached over the bar to grab a glass and helped himself to some of her whiskey, drawing a look of disapproval from Hermione.
"I like to come here to clear my head," she said, shrugging.
Draco smirked and leaned in so that only she could hear. "And fuck half the clientele in the bathroom, so I hear," he said in a voice so sinful she felt her knickers soak.
"How do you know about that?" she asked, suspicious.
"I'm not stalking you Granger, if that's what you're getting at. Reg is a gossip," he told her, sipping some whiskey.
"So, tell me why you really come here. This isn't a place for a witch like you," he said.
"A witch like me," she repeated, laughing bitterly.
"Shouldn't you be out saving orphans, opening hospitals, running for office, that kind of thing…" he said in a bored tone.
"Can't a witch enjoy her free time?" she rebutted.
"Touché," he said, allowing them to slip into comfortable silence for a few minutes.
"What are you doing here Malfoy, really?" she asked.
"Here in London, here in this bar, or here next to you?" he asked, spinning his stool to face her.
She was still every bit as pretty as she was the night he took her virginity. Hadn't aged a day.
Since that night, sex had never been quite so good, and he'd begun to worry that perhaps it was a peak of sorts.
For her part, she looked unfazed by his presence, which was a little disappointing to him.
"All three," she said, unamused by his question.
"I am in London to attend to some business. You've likely read that I inherited the family vaults and businesses after my parents passed at the end of the war," he began.
"Sorry about that," she said.
"No, you're not. They tormented you and tried to make me rape you. You don't give a fuck. Be honest Granger," he said harshly.
She looked at him with deadened eyes.
"Accurate. I hope they're rotting in hell. But I am sorry for you," she said simply.
"Fair," he replied, moving to the next question.
"I am in this bar, because it is one of the few places I can go without being glared at by people who think I should be in Azkaban," he said, eliciting a laugh from Hermione.
"And I am here with you because I haven't seen you since the night I defiled you and left you in a dungeon to rot," he said, taking pleasure in the way he turned that phrase.
Instead of slapping him, she smiled into her drink and turned her chair so their knees were touching.
"Do you feel guilty?" she asked, looking at him.
"I'll be honest if you are," he replied.
"What am I not being honest about?" she asked, pinning him down with her stare. She was far more powerful now than when he last encountered her.
"Why do you come here and do the things you do?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
She sighed loudly and fiddled with her glass absentmindedly.
"Everything is so perfect. Work. My house. The public image we all have. Everyone just pretends like it never happened. I mean, it was all so fucked up. The things that happened to people. I mean, imagine what would have happened to me if you didn't step in?" she asked, tipping some more whiskey into her glass.
"Well, I think you know the answer," he replied earnestly, genuinely interested in her perspective.
"Exactly. And I thought it would… I'd resigned myself to it… and then you and I…" she said, trailing off.
"Shagged like rabbits?" he offered.
"Something like that," she said with an insincere smile.
"But we all just went back to normal. All just pretend like this insane, violent, fucked up episode in history wasn't just a few short years ago. I need something to still be messed up. I need some chaos. So, I come here and I do things I shouldn't do… and it makes me feel better… because it feels like there are consequences," she explained.
"That's the most fucked up and ridiculous thing I have ever heard Granger," he said slowly, "but it makes sense," he added.
"Do you ever," she said, hiccuping from drinking too much, "think of me," she finished.
"In what way?" he pressed, wanting her to hear her say it.
"In your bed. That night," she said, avoiding eye contact.
Draco slid forward on his chair so he could get nearer.
"Oh yes," he said, touching her chin lightly to get her to look at him.
"I feel very… drawn… to you…" Hermione confessed. "Isn't that sick?"
"I'd say so," he said, looking at her intently.
"Sometimes, I'll be fucking a witch, and all I can do to get off is think about you underneath me," he admitted, "if you want to talk about sick… the thing is, Hermione," he said, emphasising her name, "I don't know if it's because you're the best shag I've ever had and it's you I am caught up on, or if I just get off on forcing witches…" he confessed darkly.
"Well, it seems to me you have two choices," she said, chewing her lip thoughtfully. Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to them. A memory of her on her knees sucking came into his mind and he shifted awkwardly on his seat, thankful for bulky winter robes.
"You either have to fuck me again, under better circumstances – or force another witch to shag you," she said seriously.
"Well I hardly think the latter would be appropriate," scoffed Draco.
"And the former?" she asked, studying his face intently.
"Are you offering?" he queried.
"Yes," she said shrugging.
"Even after…" he began.
"Yes," she said, more forcefully this time.
"REG! ON MY TAB," he yelled across the bar, dragging Hermione roughly by her hand towards the door. When they got there he pushed her front first into the heavy wooden door.
Shivers exploded from her neck down her spine as he pressed his lips too her ear and ran his fingers along the curve of her neck, moving her wild curls to expose the skin.
"My hotel is just down the road," he purred.
Hermione turned to face him, keeping her hand on the heavy doorknob as she spoke.
"And if it's not me?" she asked, eyes widening.
Draco only smirked and pressed his already aching erection into her hip.
"I think we both know, it's you Hermione. Always has been… ever since," he began, completely engrossed by her, but aware several sets of eyes were watching their interaction with more than curiosity.
"We just won't speak of that," she said sharply, wanting to forget everything about those days at the Manor besides how it felt when he was between her legs.
Perhaps this was what she needed to finally move on… to remove the confusion and conflict she felt about her time there. To separate it into light (Draco) and dark (everything else).
Not that Draco was light himself. She knew he was no angel, and certainly not the lost boy the Ministry made him out to be. But he'd always been real with her. And she couldn't deny the ties that bound her to him since that evening.
Hermione turned the knob and let herself float backwards out the door, pulling Draco with her by his robes.
"Lead the way," she purred, ignoring several inflammatory glares of passers-by who recognised them.
Draco regarded them as the peasants they were and took her hand, trying to bury his excitement for long enough to get the witch alone again.
Original Request:
"It would be interesting to see your take on the manor night. Maybe have Harry and Ron escape but she couldn't. So, to try and break her Bellatrix wants her raped. Draco jumps in before anyone says and takes to his room cleans her up and has to be a bit rough (but a Toby bit gentle since she's a virgin) but he needs to show that he "mistreated" her. Then after the war they get back together because in a twisted way Hermione forms an attachment to Draco after that night."
Review Responses:
Breanna: Interesting concept – I will think on it! And it certainly can be different (and could even be a little dark, but does not have to be).
Marysuedraco: I was a little baffled by your comment and why you read to chapter 27 if this version of Draco isn't for you.
If you really think Draco is "an insecure coward and a pointy looking skinny guy" and should be written as such all the time, I would say this:
I got into writing fanfic because I was unhappy with how Hermione was regularly portrayed. If you take issue with the way Draco is written more broadly (which you mentioned), I wholeheartedly encourage you to do the same and be the change you'd like to see in this space.
I am happy to explore insecure and more cowardly aspects to his personality in future works, but I am not going to write a character who is entirely unappealing (to me, at least).
Iris: Another great suggestion from you which I will think about. Your comments are always so sweet! Thank you.
Pgoodrichboggs, Spyrals, Laurelthoery,Boredravenclaw, Bellastoria, Nell, Drina, IIla, Jas, Clarkfan325, Agnes, JLLove, Black Banshee, Darwindian, Skerrett, Pygmy : Thanks for your continued support and recent reviews– I see you!
AmethystRoseMalfoy: Oh, I've considered it. And written it several times over in my mind. But honestly, it always comes out too smutty for this website. Maybe I should get into writing on An Archive of Our Own?
Ann CB: Dayum, you went DARK. Which is what I asked for. Good for you! I don't think I can do your request based on the above explanation (but it was a compelling idea and I would like to reserve the right to use elements of it in future stories which I hope you will like). Also – please do keep suggesting!
Fullmoononthewater: Thanks for giving suggestions a try for me! Very flattering
AND THANK YOU TO EVERYONE ELSE AS WELL! APOLOGIES IF I MISSED YOU. Feel free to tell me off in the reviews for that :P
Keep reviews and requests coming.
