Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
A/N: This was written for the Double the Trouble fic fest with anonymous author/artist pairings. The prompt: angels/demons, war, sexual tension.
There is AWESOME fanart which was sent to me, and I wrote this one shot based on the fanart. If you'd like to see the fanart, you should go onto AO3 where it's embedded in the story. My penname there is MistressLynn.
If you're not a fan of AO3, you can proceed without the fanart.
Warnings: GORE and implied/referenced non-con
The Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place for any witch or wizard to wander alone, even more so in the dead of night, in the near vicinity of werewolves. Hermione paused her steps, listening intently, and tightened her grip on her wand. It may have been difficult to see in the moonless dark, but there was no mistaking what she could hear.
The distinct sounds of a carnivorous animal feeding on its prey echoed through the trees. Heart pounding, Hermione approached cautiously, concealing herself behind a gnarled oak. Sounds of teeth tearing into flesh made the bile rise in her throat, and she inhaled a deep, steadying breath to control her gag reflex. The chewing stopped and Hermione froze, worrying that she had been noticed. After a tense moment, a series of squishing sounds indicated that her quarry had paused eating to dig around for something else.
The metallic smell of blood wafted over, and she nearly retched again. A ripping noise prefaced a more vicious tearing into muscle and viscera, punctuated by swallowing. Since the war had begun, Hermione had been no stranger to gruesome deaths and injury, but some reactions were involuntary. She squeezed her eyes shut, covered her mouth, and took a few seconds to get ahold of herself.
It was well known that Fenrir Greyback had developed cannibalistic tendencies several years ago, a practice that had only been amplified by the onset of war. He had long been roaming battlefields after the carnage had finished, mutilating corpses the Order couldn't recover. Lately, he'd refined his attacks to target the female members, raping them if still alive and then eating his fill of their organs.
Word of his revolting new practice was affecting morale. The Order had had enough, and finally sent a team to the battlefield to end it. It was a new moon; they wouldn't get a better opportunity to take him out if they could find him – and now Hermione had. Eyes still shut, she struggled to control her fear. She had faced danger many times, but the thought of what awaited her if she wasn't careful was nearly paralyzing. She knew that if she called for back-up, he might Apparate away and they would lose their chance.
She blinked up at the starlit sky through spidery branches and silently counted to ten. Her heart thundered in her chest and her body shook with adrenaline.
She could do this.
Hermione peered around the tree and saw a figure in a black cloak hunched over what she knew to be Padma's corpse. She had been the only one who hadn't returned after the battle. It was difficult to see in the dark, but Hermione thought she could kill Greyback while he was eating and unaware of her presence. It would be easy to focus her loathing for the Killing Curse. He was a revolting perversion of a human being.
Slowly, she aimed her wand, grimacing at the sound of flesh being torn apart by teeth. She forced the acrid taste of bile down her throat, listening while he chewed and swallowed, and thought of his more recent victims. Padma. Lavender. Ismelda. Gwendoline. Penelope.
All of them met terrible ends. All of them raped, bodies mutilated and organs eaten. Death Eaters were often cruel in battle, but Greyback's actions were far beyond what most human beings were capable of doing - even someone as sadistic as Bellatrix. Hermione could still remember that horrifying morning when they came to recover Penelope's body only to find her naked with her torso ripped open and her heart, liver, and intestines removed. It was a stark change from the random bites Greyback usually imparted.
Greyback was an abomination. He was evil, long past any chance of redemption, and he needed to be killed. She needed to kill him.
Now. While he was distracted.
Summoning her loathing towards him, she inhaled deeply, focusing her magic and preparing to cast. It wasn't often that she used the Killing Curse, but she didn't want to chance missing his throat with a slicing hex. She wasn't always successful with Avada Kedavra; summoning hatred for the Killing Curse was just as difficult as summoning happy memories for the Patronus Charm, but she struggled more with pooling her abhorrence.
Hermione felt the swelling power of her contempt fusing with her magic. Icy tentacles of dark magic wrapped around muscle and bone and made her feel impervious to attack. An after-effect of the curse, the temporary feeling of being more powerful was one of the reasons Unforgivable Curses were addictive.
"Avada Kedavra," she whispered.
She would only know for sure if her curse was enough to kill him once it landed. The tell-tale green light shot out of her wand. Hermione held her breath and gathered her hatred to cast again in case it hadn't worked the first time. To her shock, Greyback suddenly leapt away from the corpse, up into the air with a rustle of leaves and a swirl of his long cloak. She quickly shifted her posture as he landed in front of her with a thud. Her curse sailed past him, ineffectually hitting Padma's mangled body and making it jerk on impact.
Hermione stumbled back in terror and her voice rose in panic as he charged her.
"Avada Kedavra!"
As she released the second curse, Greyback clamped down on her wand arm, forcing it to the side as the green light blasted the ground.
Blood pounded in her ears and her heart thundered in her chest. She knew that she had no chance of beating Greyback in a physical fight and struggled to point her wand and signal for help. But she couldn't get any control to make the movement. Time seemed to simultaneously crawl and race beyond Hermione's comprehension. Operating on pure adrenaline, Hermione ducked to avoid Greyback's retaliatory physical attack and with a shriek, made to jab through the folds of his cloak, aiming for his throat. His werewolf reflexes were too quick, and instead, Greyback caught her arm and wrenched it above her head.
His hand was slippery, completely covered in gore from Padma, and she yanked down on her arm, trying to slide it out of his grasp. He dug his fingers into her flesh, pressing hard against the bone and she cried out in pain. Preempting her next move, he shoved his thigh between her legs with a growl, pressing his pelvis into hers to restrain her from kicking. Fighting down panic, she struggled to regain control of her limbs as he shoved her against the oak tree she had been hiding behind.
The bark scraped her back and dug into her scalp. Hermione screamed for help, hoping that someone from the Order was nearby and would hear before it was too late. Fear clawed at her throat. The tables had turned abruptly on her surprise attack and now she was fighting for her life.
She didn't want to die this way, and her stomach heaved at a vision of the Order recovering her raped and mutilated body.
Struggling in his grip with nothing left to do, she gritted her teeth, focused on the center of his hooded head, and reared back to head butt him – only to stop abruptly with a gasp.
Blond hair peaked out from under Greyback's hood, and silver eyes gleamed in the darkness.
All the air left her lungs, and she nearly dropped her wand.
It wasn't Greyback. Greyback wasn't the problem at all.
Draco had been eating their organs. Draco had been raping them.
Hermione stared up at him, frozen, eyes wide with horror. Her heart was still pounding in her chest from their brief struggle as she tried to process that it had been him she had witnessed cannibalising Padma's body. She was stunned and couldn't believe what he had just done – what he had been doing.
For months.
But why?
Draco never wanted to be a Death Eater and, like many, was trapped into Voldemort's service under threat to his parents' lives. Hermione had been trying to get him out and into hiding for years, ever since she rescued him from being tortured on the battlefield by a fellow Death Eater.
Draco couldn't kill; never had it in him. And he was often punished for it.
She couldn't imagine even the worst of Voldemort's Army raping and mutilating Order members like this. And all along it had been Draco?
He calmly returned her gaze, his only reaction to her change in demeanor a slow blink. Neither one of them moved. The fingers digging into her wrist gradually loosened when he saw she wasn't rearing to attack him again. Hermione's mouth moved ineffectually; she didn't know what any of this meant. She wasn't sure what to do.
Slowly, he backed away. As he removed his hood, his features became slightly more illuminated in the starlight. Blood covered his mouth and chin, dark against his pale complexion. She lowered her arm from where it had been pinned against the tree and glanced down. Blood and bits of gore were smeared where he grabbed her. It was dark in the night, almost black against her skin.
A viscous rivulet slowly trailed down and around her forearm. Robotically, she swiped a thumb through the dark substance, smearing it further. The night was jarringly silent now, absent of the sounds of teeth tearing into viscera. She heard a tiny plop on a dry leaf, then more, as blood dripped from Draco's hand. It was still covered with blood since he had been digging around in… inside Padma.
Hermione swallowed, trying to comprehend what had just happened, what it meant. She had been splattered with blood many times before. Both her own and someone else's. But this was worse. It was Padma's, and Draco had just been eating her.
Hermione glanced up at him, trying to find words to express her horrified disbelief.
"It's you," she choked out.
"It's me," he replied nonchalantly, licking the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
His tongue seemed slightly longer than what was natural, swiping his mouth, upper lip and chin with practiced – and unsettlingly strong – movements. Was his tongue always like that? She'd never had occasion to see it before. As her thoughts began to drift, she gave herself a mental shake back into the present moment.
She eyed him up and down with growing trepidation as he loomed over her. The fact that she had just interrupted him in the middle of a cannibalistic act notwithstanding, everything about Draco seemed… off. But she couldn't pinpoint what it was.
It was him, but it wasn't. Something was different.
In every chance meeting they'd had over the years he'd been terrified, earnest in his desire to leave, but utterly helpless as to how to make it happen. The man before her was none of these things. More confident, more threatening, and more powerful.
She thought she detected a distinctively male scent, at once both dangerous and something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was very different from the raw, rancid smell which surrounded Greyback. Finding his smell somewhat enticing, she almost leaned into him to get a deeper whiff.
Noting that he wasn't poised to attack, her terror began to fade and the fear tightening her chest gradually loosened. She swallowed and stared into his eyes, glittering down at her from underneath his fringe. She didn't know if it was the effect of the starlight, but they seemed more silver than grey.
Unnatural.
"We thought it was Greyback," she protested in a hoarse voice, willing the statement to be true despite what she had just seen take place in front of her.
Hermione was somewhat in shock with disbelief, unsure what to do now. She'd come to the Forbidden Forest fully prepared to kill a cannibalistic werewolf, and now found herself paralyzed, suddenly face to face with someone she had been trying to save for years.
"Greyback is revolting," Draco replied with an eye roll, as if he hadn't just been interrupted in the middle of eating Padma's organs. "He'll eat anything."
"Anything," she echoed weakly, entranced by the blood still around his mouth. It wasn't dripping anymore, but dark smears remained on his chin.
He swiped the blood with his clean hand and licked his thumb with relish. Hermione watched in perverse fascination as Draco sucked the tip of his thumb into his mouth, lapping up the blood around his knuckle. His tongue was definitely longer than what was natural. It curved in ways it shouldn't, nearly wrapping around his index finger.
Hermione watched in morbid curiosity as his tongue cleaned the last of the remaining blood around his mouth. She still couldn't quite believe what was happening. Noticing her fascination, he raised his eyebrows boyishly.
"Did I miss a spot?"
Her eyes landed on his jaw where a small bit of blood remained, but she said nothing. She was still trying to understand why Draco had resorted to such depraved acts.
Maybe Greyback had turned him, but that wasn't enough of a reason. Most werewolves weren't cannibalistic when in their human form. And the new moon tonight allowed werewolves the biggest reprieve from the pull of the wolf inside them.
But being afflicted by Lycanthropy didn't explain why Draco was eating organs. He wasn't a killer. Never had been. He'd confided in her before that he hated violence and just wanted his family to be left alone. Now, he appeared ambivalent about the carnage he'd engaged in not just a few minutes ago.
In morbid curiosity, Hermione watched as he extended his unnaturally long tongue to lave up the errant droplet on his jaw. Her blood ran cold.
His tongue was forked.
Something seemed to click into place as Hermione realized that Draco wasn't a werewolf at all. No werewolves ate organs like he did, no matter how depraved. Their eyes didn't gleam silver during a new moon, and they didn't have forked tongues. They didn't smell enticing either, and despite the horrific situation around her, his smell was making her… aroused.
Hermione felt a slow heat beginning to spread between her thighs. She was immediately disgusted with herself, uncomfortable with her body's response given the state of her friend's carcass mere yards away.
"Mmmm," he smiled in contentment. "Padma." She raised her eyes to meet his playful gaze. "I don't know what tasted better. Her cunt or her blood."
Draco raised his hand to cup Hermione's face. She recoiled from the blood and gore still dripping from him and he paused, not touching her. The male scent became slightly stronger, and she inhaled with an anticipatory tightening between her legs.
Draco had always been attractive, but there was something even more seductive about him now.
"You think I'd hurt you?" he asked, sounding slightly insulted. "After all you tried to do for me?"
"I…" her voice wavered, unsure.
He studied her intently. Aside from his tongue and eyes, he didn't look any different. But he was different. When they had last met in battle a few months earlier, she had known instinctually that he wouldn't hurt her even when she was injured and defenseless. Quite the opposite; he'd disillusioned her and healed a laceration on her arm before running off.
But now?
She shifted her gaze to Padma's violated corpse and back to Draco again.
"I don't know what you'd do."
He tsked. "Not you."
Cautiously, careful not to make any sudden movements, Draco delicately stroked two fingertips down her jaw, painting it with blood. The thick liquid was tepid in the night, but heat followed his touch. She found herself leaning in. He stopped under her chin and pushed up, tilting her head upward toward his own.
"Never you, Hermione," he murmured, voice soft and hypnotic.
Hermione's throat constricted nervously. She was unsure what to do. She didn't understand what happened to him, what he was, or what he was doing right now.
Viscous drops left cold trails down her jaw and throat.
Padma's blood.
The fact that he just killed Padma should bother her more, but all she could do was concentrate on his touch. His fingers were so gentle, covered in gore. They caressed the lines of her throat, down towards her collarbone, and splayed tenderly around the curve of her neck, making it wet with blood.
It was deceiving. Only minutes before she arrived that same hand had violently torn Padma's heart out of her chest cavity.
Hermione knew she should be revolted, but her skin was tingling from even his briefest touch, and she just wanted more. Reason said to incapacitate him so she could get more information and figure out what to do next. But somehow, he was inducing lust in her. Seducing her and clouding her judgement. None of this was natural. She could feel herself slowly becoming overwhelmed by his presence. Craving more of him, of his touches on her body.
"You're…" She sucked in a shuddering breath and tightened the grip on her wand. She should stun him. Hermione knew she should but couldn't make herself do it. She wanted him to keep touching her. "You're the one that's been mutilating and raping them."
"Well, I wouldn't call it rape," Draco replied with a seductive drawl. His voice was enthralling, sending pleasurable tingles down her spine. "Ever fucked an incubus?"
At his admission, Hermione felt some of the haze clear. Draco was a demon? And not just any demon, but one that fed on the sex and life force of a dying partner.
If that was true, she would be next. It didn't matter that he said he wouldn't hurt her.
Or did it?
She didn't know.
"Of course not," she answered with a tremor of fear in her voice. "But Draco, you can stop," she pleaded. "You don't have to - you don't have to eat them."
Corralling her will, she angled her wand from below, ready to attack if needed. A demon was infinitely worse than a werewolf. There was no on or off period as with the cycles of the moon. There was no way to control the transformation like with Wolfsbane. And a demon was worse than a vampire; there was no way to appease the cravings with blood donations or potions to control hunger.
But why hadn't he eaten animals if he needed the organs? Why eat Order members and not Death Eaters? Draco had no allegiance to Voldemort.
Quite the opposite, actually.
He pulled away to gaze down at her, clearly entertained.
"You think so?" He chuckled softly. "I tried to stop, Hermione. I can't."
So this was it for him? This was his existence now? She couldn't accept that. It must be that he didn't have anyone to help him. His transformation reeked of Dark magic, and Voldemort had probably used him as a tool to lower Order morale – it had worked and worked well. So why would anyone on Voldemort's side help him? Or maybe Draco's transformation was a punishment? Hermione struggled to puzzle it out as her thoughts battled against the miasma of lust closing in around the edge of her consciousness.
His thumb delicately pressed into the hollow of her throat and against all logic, Hermione felt the urge to let him grab her. Peel the clothing off her body. Slide his hands over her skin. Hermione knew it wasn't a natural arousal she was feeling but found herself caring less and less. She wanted to feel him under his robes, wanted to taste his mouth, wanted to suck on that tongue. His hand was hot on the nape of her neck, spreading the blood around and she tentatively reached up to rest her hands on his forearms over his cloak.
His smell got stronger. It was intoxicating. Sinful.
Draco's lips parted in a wide smile and his teeth gleamed like his eyes, no longer bloody. He closed in on her, steadily pushing her against the tree. His body was warm, slightly warmer than it should have been. He leaned down, lips ghosting against her ear. She shivered in anticipation of his mouth on her. Unable to stop herself, Hermione nuzzled her cheek against his. She released a soft sigh and curled her fingers deeper into the fabric of his robes.
Maybe it was as he said. He wouldn't hurt her, and she could get him help. Just like werewolves and vampires could be helped.
"Demon sex is quite the experience," he whispered. He licked the shell of her ear and her muscles contracted. "It's not just my tongue that's changed."
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Hermione didn't want to find out what that meant. And yet she did. Desperately. His fingers pressed softly into the skin of her neck, rubbing Padma's blood onto her. Her breath hitched as continued to caress her, scalding breath and heated skin contrasting deliciously with the cold smear of blood.
Goosebumps spread up and down her sleeveless arms, and his other hand languidly slipped to her bare shoulder. Draco pinned her with a hungry gaze, like he wanted to fuck and devour her. Exactly how she imagined an incubus would, and something inside her wanted him to. Wanted him to do everything. His eyes travelled over her face, her neck, the exposed skin of her shoulders and arms.
Draco lowered his face to her mouth. He was going to kiss her. She'd be lost if he did. Already Hermione found it harder and harder to think coherently, as her focus narrowed on his eyes and his mouth and his body. Her surroundings seemed to fade away and his presence slowly took over. She pressed on his shoulders and he paused, his lips centimeters from hers. She failed to stifle a soft whimper.
"Let me help you, Draco. You've never been able to kill before."
"Before," he repeated, his breath was hot on her mouth. "I don't have much of a choice now, do I?"
"And you're just…" Her voice shook in fear. Or desire. Both. "Fine with that?"
He chuckled, and the slight exhalation of air tickled her lips. She rubbed her thighs together. She wanted him there.
"It doesn't matter what I want or what I think. I can't help it," his voice was a caress against her mind. Lulling her into submission.
"But this isn't you," she insisted, clutching the fabric of his robe. If it didn't matter what he wanted, then he would hurt her.
"I need it," his voice lowered, resonating throughout her body.
Need.
She needed him.
Y es.
More than anything, right now she had to have him. She could see why the others had given in. He was so tempting; he was all she could think about despite the fact that Padma's body was right there.
Draco closed the remaining distance between their mouths. Doing her best to fight the hazy lust gradually overtaking her, Hermione turned her head to the side and pushed harder against his shoulders. Undeterred, his hot, wet tongue slithered on her cheek, licking up the blood he had smeared there. Her protest shattered in a gasp and her skin felt aflame. He cradled the back of her head, threading his fingers into her curls to hold her while he lapped at her jaw and throat.
Hermione felt as if she were on fire. Any control she had over herself and the situation was rapidly deserting her. She whimpered as he traced burning, wet trails over her cheek, jaw and neck.
This is what Draco did. This was who he was. Tears pricked her eyes as she half-heartedly tried to push him away. His tongue slithered over the lines of her neck and collarbone as her sob turned into a low moan.
Draco pulled back and gave her a sad smile. "I'm not worth crying over, Hermione."
She blinked at him. He existed as an abomination of nature and didn't seem to regard himself very highly. But that couldn't possibly be all he was? She refused to give up on him.
"That's not true!" Her voice was thick and raspy as she spoke. She couldn't think with him so close to her. With his hands on her body and his mouth on her skin. "You didn't want this. How did it happen?"
His fingers ran up and down her arms, caressing her bare skin. She trembled from his touch and her tears threatened to fall.
"The Dark Lord wasn't happy with me, but you knew that already. I suppose it's better than death." He lifted her fingers to his lips and pressed light, tender kisses against them. "Maybe."
She watched his lips travel over her fingernails and knuckles.
It was as she'd suspected. A punishment. Draco couldn't kill, so Voldemort took away his choice in the matter. It was so much crueler than being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Becoming a demon removed his ability to control his actions, perhaps much like a vampire in the height of bloodlust or a werewolf during a full moon.
Draco couldn't come back from this transformation. He would never be human again, and she was devastated.
Hermione also wondered where it left the two of them; what that meant for her right now, and what she might have to do. Hermione had to stop him. What he was doing was evil, even if he didn't have much choice in the matter.
But surely the Order would be able to find a solution. Couldn't they? He didn't deserve this. It was a horrific fate he faced, as were the fates of his victims.
"You should have come to us before."
Hermione watched, entranced, as his fingers traced patterns over her hand and wrist that his tongue followed. She knew she should pull her hand away, but his attentions felt so good, and she wanted more.
"You should have come," she repeated with a soft groan.
A useless plea. Draco had heard it many times before.
"And abandon my parents?"
And she'd heard the same reply too many times to count.
Nonplussed by the rehashing of their all-too-familiar conversation, Draco swirled his tongue around her index finger and sucked it into his mouth, eyeing her like prey he was toying with. She felt an intense, sensual pull from deep within. Her eyes fluttered closed as he traced patterns in ways that no human tongue could.
His thumb rubbed a vein on the underside of her wrist, and she bit her lip. Hermione dragged her finger out of his mouth and opened her eyes to see his silver eyes gazing down at her in sympathy.
"You tried, Hermione." His hands trailed down her sides and slid around her waist, gliding up to her shoulder blades. His palms were warm through the fabric of her shirt, and she leaned into him. "Sixth year, seventh year, and every year of this god forsaken war since. It's too late now." He pulled her against his chest. "My guardian angel," he murmured against her lips.
"But I'm not. I never was." The tears that had threatened to fall earlier spilled down her cheeks now. "I failed you."
She'd tried, she'd failed, and now it was too late. Wasn't it? He had been violated in the worst way possible and was condemned to a life of cannibalism.
Draco's smile faltered, and for a brief moment she saw a glimmer of sadness grace his features. But after a heartbeat it vanished and his hand snaked up, tangling in her hair again. All thoughts of how her efforts had fallen through left her head as he tilted her face, extended his tongue and licked up the trail of her tears with a soft groan.
Hermione shuddered and gripped his arms to brace herself. His scent was much stronger now. Eerie and tantalizing, it made her core tighten in anticipation.
This was how Padma died. First Draco seduced her, then he'd eaten her.
Hermione recalled when she'd discovered Penelope's body with crystal clarity. Naked from the waist down, her torso ripped open but the expression on her face was one of pure rapture. Penelope didn't appear to have been in any pain at the time of her death. None of them could explain it, and they did their best to give her body a proper burial and the respect it deserved.
Would Hermione… want him to eat her? Is that how this ended? Her thoughts became foggy with horror and lust.
"Wait," she protested weakly, trying to push him away.
His fingers tightened their grip in her hair, and he tilted her head to lave at her neck, licking off Padma's blood and making small noises of contentment as he swallowed. His nose rubbed against her cheek and her breath caught at the feel of his inhuman tongue slithering against her skin. It tickled and tantalized and all she could breathe was him.
Hermione knew she had to push him away, but his demonic allure made her crave him. Draco was all she could think about. He was all that she wanted, all that she needed; nothing else mattered. She was so empty and only he could fill her. She was hollow, a mere vessel. She needed him inside her. Everything about him inside.
Inside.
She found herself clawing at his robes and then sliding her hands to his upper arms, his shoulders.
Hermione should stun him. She should. Did all women give in so easily? Knowing what their fate would be? Or perhaps they didn't know until it was too late. The Order had suspected Greyback these past few months, not Draco. Everyone else was caught unawares. But now Hermione knew.
She was repulsed and yet rocked her pelvis into him. Draco hummed in approval and his hand trailed down her back, over the curve of her rear to grab the meat of her arse. He pressed her against his thigh, and she felt… she felt him. It was long and hard and it moved.
She wanted it.
Draco released an inhuman growl and rubbed himself against her hip. His lips opened over her flesh, and she gasped for air. But she didn't want to breathe air, she wanted to breathe him. He sucked her skin into his mouth, and she clenched down below.
Empty. She was so empty.
He rolled his hips into her, almost rhythmically, and his cock rubbed against her thigh.
Pulsing.
Moving.
Slithering.
Hermione's head was muddled with desire. Nothing else mattered. She just wanted her emptiness to be filled. Wanted him. Draco would feel so good.
And he'd said he wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't Padma. Padma hadn't tried to help him. Nor had any of the others he'd eaten. She was different, wasn't she? He would take care of her. She would take care of him. She'd find a way.
Draco's mouth nipped at her flesh and she groaned, clutching at him. She felt the cords of his neck and the bones of his jaw as they moved under his skin. He would fill her like she needed. That's all she wanted. For him to be inside her. Completely inside her. Hermione fisted his hair and tried to taste him. She wanted their bodies to meld into one, her flesh to become his. Rubbing… writhing… slipping… sliding…
Gentle. His teeth were so deceivingly gentle on her ear. She turned her face away and eyed Padma's corpse. He had just been eating Padma.
What was she doing?
"Wait!" she gasped, trying to break free of the fog of lust.
She couldn't clear her mind. But Padma's corpse was there, only yards away.
Hermione knew she was looking for excuses to have him, but she had to deal with Draco now. That's why she was here.
He had to be stopped.
Hermione groaned and clutched his head, prying his mouth off her neck. He broke away and she watched as he curled his tongue back into his mouth, red from the blood on her throat. His smile was feral.
"Blood tastes better on your skin," he said, amused silver eyes flashing down at her.
Draco made to attack her neck again, but she held his face away from her, trying to summon her wits. It was too difficult. She wanted him to paint her body with blood and lave her from head to toe. She wanted his bare skin on hers, his hard muscles sliding against her.
"You don't have to be with them," she panted, trying to focus on the purpose of her being there in the first place.
To help him. She could help him.
She just needed to get him away from Voldemort.
She wanted to tear his clothes off.
"You can still come to us."
He tilted his head and his blond fringe fell loosely to the side. Unable to stop herself, she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, and fisted it. She needed to claw at his body, to ride him until she came. She wanted him to pound into her, to use her until there was nothing left.
"And do what?" he asked, amused.
Hermione couldn't think. What would he do? She didn't know. They could figure out the details later. After she had him. After he filled her. He would feel so good inside…
She released his hair shook her head.
"Fight." She tried to dispel visions of their naked bodies writhing against each other down in the dirt. "Fight them. We'll figure something out. Bring your parents. It's not too late."
Draco huffed a laugh. "Are you sure about that?"
Hermione studied his inhuman silver eyes even as they attempted to draw her back in. She wasn't sure about anything. Draco said he wouldn't hurt her, and she wanted to believe him. But after the way he'd just mauled her, inducing her lust, she didn't know if he was being honest or just saying what she wanted to hear so she'd let her guard down.
"We can try," she said, still trying to bring her rational thoughts to the fore. She couldn't block the images of him licking blood off of her naked body. "You don't have to stay with them. If you're going to attack people, at least attack from the right side of this war."
"There aren't that many female Death Eaters," he said, lips lifting in mirth. "You know how pure-blood society is."
"But–"
"So after I eat and fuck Pansy and Alecto, who's left? Bellatrix?" He clucked in mock disappointment. "That's incest, Hermione. What kind of monster do you take me for?"
Hermione couldn't understand how he could be so flippant about what he was doing, about what had happened to him.
"Why aren't you taking this seriously?"
Draco's eyes lowered to her mouth.
"You don't think I've already thought through my options?" he murmured.
He was finally going to kiss her. Somehow, she knew that once he did, she would be lost. He leaned into her mouth again and, gathering her willpower, she sidestepped so as not to be trapped between him and the tree anymore.
He lifted a knowing eyebrow at her. Hermione was still clinging to his robes and immediately let go, backing away a few steps. Her consciousness started to clear of the overwhelming desire for him. She backed away further and the rest of the world gradually came into focus.
Draco took a slow step forward, following her retreat with eyes intent on her mouth. His pursuit wasn't rushed, as if he knew she wasn't going to run. He had an air of inevitability about him; playing with his food before eating it.
And he was enjoying it.
Hermione stumbled as he drew closer and loomed over her once again. She struggled to focus on her purpose for being in the Forbidden Forest but all she could think of was him.
"Couldn't you…" She had to get him out. He didn't have to live like this. She was desperate to find a solution for him. "Couldn't you eat the men?"
At least he wouldn't be around Death Eaters, and they would have some time to figure out how to help him.
"Are you seriously advocating for cannibalism?" he replied with an exaggerated expression of reproach. "Harsh, Hermione. What has this war done to you?"
Draco chuckled, and reached out to her waist, pulling her flush against him again.
"We kill them anyway," she replied as his heat enveloped her body. "Does it matter how?"
His fingers pressed into her lower back, and he made a fist, dragging his knuckle up and down her spine. His smell twisted her insides and she watched him, entranced by his silver eyes. She felt herself lift and lower with each movement of his hand, like she was an instrument he was playing.
She released a whining sigh.
"It doesn't work that way, Hermione," he murmured. "Only women will do."
Draco tugged on a curl and wrapped it around his finger.
His smell got stronger and the call towards him harder to fight. She wobbled slightly in his arms and his hold tightened. She pressed herself against him and a soft growl vibrated from within his chest. She was empty and hollow. The thought of him inside her, of his body inside her, twisting and writhing, licking and digging, of their flesh becoming one... she melted into him.
Her eyes widened, horrified at what she wanted. She would die with an ecstatic smile on her face, just like Penelope. But he said he wouldn't hurt her.
Even if he wouldn't eat her, he'd eat others.
She had to kill him, didn't she? Draco was a demon. If left to his own devices, he'd continue raping and mutilating the unfortunate women that happened to cross his path.
Slowly, still unsure and fighting the overwhelming desire clouding her senses, Hermione raised her wand, and poked it in his neck. Her hand was trembling. She still wanted him desperately, and she was terrified by what he had just done to Padma, and what he might do to her. What she'd let him do.
But it was Draco. He didn't deserve this, any of it.
No, the Order could help him. She just had to get him away.
"If you won't come with me then I'll…" She couldn't say it.
His mouth twisted into a sinister smile.
"Are you really going to fight me, Hermione? And then what? You're going to kill me?"
She didn't know the answer to that. And she couldn't think clearly with his body pressed against her and his hands caressing her body. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she pressed the wand into his flesh.
"I should."
"You should," he grinned wider. "But you won't."
His smell strengthened the haze of lust in her mind. She wanted to reach up and kiss him, she wanted his mouth on her body, she wanted his tongue on her skin and his cock in her cunt. Her core tightened. Pulling, wanting, needing…
"You think you know me?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I do. You still think you can save me. Even now with your friend's heart sitting in my stomach. You've spent…" his voice softened in appreciation. "far too much time trying to get me out."
Draco was right. She did think there was hope for him. He wasn't the same as Greyback. Or was he? She eyed Padma's mutilated corpse on the ground several paces away. Maybe not the same as Greyback, but the result was the same.
She turned back to him, trying unsuccessfully to clear her mind.
"I can do it. I will do it." She was bluffing. She didn't know if she'd be able to focus well enough to cast anything complex.
He shrugged, unconcerned by her declaration. "Go ahead, then. I'm not stopping you."
Draco loosened his arms and stepped back. It was as if a mist dissipated, and she stumbled from the sudden clarity. Her arousal lessened as her mind returned to its sharp focus. Draco had stopped whatever influence he'd had on her hormones.
Hermione exhaled, and again pressed the wand tip into the side of his throat. He was evil, wasn't he? The evidence was laying just a few yards from them on the forest floor. It didn't matter who he had been before, it didn't matter that he didn't have a choice in what he was now. The result was the same; he had to be killed.
She peered up into his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed while he watched her.
She didn't hate him, and therefore couldn't use the Killing Curse. She could slice his neck; her wand was pressed against his neck. It would be easy; she wouldn't miss. She tried to imagine him like that, blood spurting from his throat. She'd killed Death Eaters that way before, but she didn't think she could do it to Draco.
He watched her indecisiveness silently for a few moments before a triumphant gleam appeared in his eyes.
"So now that we've gotten the formalities out of the way," he said, leaning into her again, "why not have some fun?" His voice lowered. "You'll beg for me to eat you."
Hermione had no doubt that was true. He closed in on her mouth and her desire rushed back like a tidal wave as his lips caressed hers. Despite the brutal death, Hermione remembered the eerie look of rapture frozen on Penelope's face. The memory of her torso missing organs was the only thing keeping Hermione grounded. She'd knock him out and figure out what to do with him later.
Draco must have sensed her change in intent just before she did. His reflexes were too fast. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, pinning her arm against her back as the red jet of light from her non-verbal Stunner hit the ground.
"A Stunner?" he teased her. "You're not even trying."
She tried to kick back against his knee but he twisted her arm higher, making her shriek in pain.
"Stop fighting," his voice lowered threateningly. "I don't want to hurt you."
She struggled, but he just pulled her flush against him, clamping an arm across her chest.
"If you don't want to hurt me, then let me go!"
Hermione kicked back again but he easily lifted her up off the ground to remove what little leverage she'd had. She cried out in pain as her arm was crushed between her back and his chest.
He huffed a laugh, breath tickling her skin. Despite their struggle, she still wanted him, although his hold on her consciousness wasn't nearly as strong.
"I'm hardly going to let you stun me, Hermione," he grunted with the effort of holding her. "We could be doing so many other things."
"Fine," she ground out.
She couldn't gain a physical advantage when held up in the air, so she stopped struggling. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground and slipped his hand over her breast.
"Ohgod!" she gasped and involuntarily arched into his palm.
"Isn't this better?" His sultry voice reverberated from behind and he squeezed her flesh.
She moaned loudly.
"You'll enjoy it," he purred into her ear. "There's no reason to fight."
Draco began kneading her breast. She pulled on her arm, but he held her wrist behind her back firmly.
"Shhhhh," his voice was calming and hypnotic, nearly making her forget why she wanted to resist in the first place. She melted into his body as he massaged her breast. "Just like that…" his voice trailed off.
Hermione couldn't let him get control over her. Now, now, NOW!
She hooked her foot behind his knee and jerked forward. He stumbled, loosening his grip on her. She twisted around to face him, freeing her arm from behind her back and head butted him, smashing her forehead into his.
"Fuck!" he yelled, letting go of her completely. Draco crashed to the ground, holding his head in his hands.
Her maneuver had done the job freeing her of his mental and physical hold, but her head was likewise ringing with pain. She staggered back, clutching her forehead, and nearly fell over. Blinking to clear her vision, she whipped out her wand to stun him, but Draco was preternaturally quick.
He rolled over, dodging her curse, and launched himself up at her, knocking her to the ground. Her back hit the dirt and she scrambled to get out from under him. They rolled over twice before he finally pinned her, holding her wrists against the ground above her head. Hermione strained her arms against his hold, trying to angle her wand for another spell but he plucked it out of her grip and tossed it aside.
No!
Breathing heavily, he looked down at her, exasperated.
"Come on, Hermione. There's no point in fighting."
She pulled on her arms, but his grip was too tight.
"We don't have to fight," she ground out, still struggling underneath him. "Just come with me. I can't let you continue like this."
"Still trying to save me?" he panted above her, still recovering from their struggle. "I told you, it's impossible. And even if it weren't, the Order wouldn't have it."
She tried to kick Draco off her again, but he shoved her legs apart with his knee. His member moved against her hip, as if it had a life of its own.
What the fuck did he have in his trousers?
He smirked down at her astonishment. "I'll make it good for you. I promise."
"Like you made it good for Padma?" her voice trembled in anger.
He shifted his silver gaze to her left where Padma's body lay and then back to her, mocking. "She's not complaining."
Hermione bucked, trying to get leverage to push him off of her.
"You're just making me harder," his voice lowered slightly. "This is going to happen, Hermione. It's too late now and I'm barely even trying. You can't fight me off."
Draco placed his hand on her midriff and slid it up under her shirt, laying it tenderly over her breast. Her body throbbed in response; the feeling of emptiness grew as her cunt contracted over and over, wanting desperately to be filled.
"And then…" her voice trembled. He was right, she couldn't fight him off. "You'll eat my heart?"
"No. I said I wouldn't hurt you." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "Probably not, anyway. Although you're awfully tempting." He chuckled.
She seemed to lose more of herself as the haze settled firmly over her. She twisted underneath his body and his fingers pressed into her flesh.
"Stop doing that to me," she gasped, failing to clear her head of desire.
It was overwhelming, his touch made her blood pulse in time with his. Every part of her was screaming for his body to fill her. This was it. Draco was right, he was going to fuck her within an inch of her life and then she'd beg him to eat her. The insane want of him overpowered all rational thought.
"Then give in," His voice was a sultry growl. "I'll have better control if you do."
His fingers massaged the area on her chest over her heart, the organ pounding furiously in response. Her whole body flexed and convulsed with need. He lowered his mouth. His lips pressed lightly against hers, and his tongue teased her, trying to work its way inside. Hermione knew that she shouldn't let him in, but she couldn't help it. She parted her lips anyway and his tongue slithered in.
It felt… so…
As she opened her mouth, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and he swallowed her guttural moan. She was completely overtaken by a compulsion to have him.
His tongue wrapped around hers in an erotic dance and Hermione writhed underneath. She hadn't even realized he released her hands before she was clawing at his body, yanking off his cloak, tearing at his clothing.
She just wanted more. She needed him inside her. Soon they were rolling around in the dirt, panting and grunting, rutting against each other.
His tongue was doing sinful things inside her mouth while his hands rubbed and pawed up and down her body. She arched her back and thrust her hips and slid her hands under his shirt. His skin was so hot and she wanted to burn with him. She could feel the ridges of scars crisscrossing over the contours of his muscles but couldn't think about much more than getting him inside her.
Hermione's legs tangled in his and his hand squeezed her arse as they wrestled on the forest floor like animals in heat, grinding against one another. She wanted to inhale him. She wanted to taste him. She sunk her teeth into his neck, reveling in his skin. His masculine flavor made her ravenous and she bit and sucked up and down the cords of his neck and shoulder, exploring his body.
She dug her fingers into his hair. Their tongues tangled together and she moaned desperately, trying to get more of him. She couldn't get close enough. She wanted to be inside him, she couldn't make him meld with her flesh. She needed more and grabbed at his muscles.
Hermione wrapped her legs around his and raked her fingers up and down the contours of his back. Her body was grimy with dirt and leaves in her hair, but she didn't care. The smell of their sex was pungent in the air, and it drove her mad.
She wanted him to devour her, she couldn't be apart from him.
Draco broke away and she whimpered, chasing after his mouth.
"Delicious," he murmured as she dragged his head back down to hers. "I knew you would be."
Hermione heard the tearing of fabric and didn't know if she had torn his shirt off or if he had torn off hers. All she knew was that the burning, hard skin of his chest was sliding against the softness of her breasts. She gyrated against him and reached down to cup his arse, to grab his thighs, to handle that cock.
Draco pulled his face away again.
"No!" she cried out.
He smiled sinfully down at her.
She needed his wet, burning mouth and wanted him to swallow her whole. Her cries turned into a wild groan as his lips descended to her collarbone and down her chest. He cupped her breast, and she cried out as his tongue circled her nipple.
It felt like a hot, slippery snake, licking and prodding and suckling. She dug her fingers into his hair and rolled her pelvis underneath him. She was nearly out of her mind with want, needing him inside her as she grabbed at him with abandon. Draco continued at his own pace, unperturbed, making satisfied, contented sounds. She wanted his mouth all over her body, consuming her.
His tongue lapped at her stomach, descending lower, heading towards her aching, hollow cunt. She rocked her pelvis up, pushing herself towards him. Towards his face, his mouth, his tongue.
Fuck.
Here.
Take it.
Take me.
Draco opened her trousers and peeled down the waist. Hermione couldn't reach him anymore and grabbed uselessly at the ground to anchor herself. She turned her head to the side and gasped as his tongue followed the exposed skin.
He nipped her lightly.
"Yes," she panted. "Harder."
Hermione wanted him to bite her. To taste her flesh. She wanted him to devour her until there was nothing left. To take her. To take all of her. Nothing else mattered. She thrust up with a moan.
His teeth slowly pressed into her hip bone until it hurt and then he released her.
"Again!" she gasped.
Draco bit her again and released her with a grunt. His mouth travelled over her stomach, sucking her skin into his mouth, down to where her trousers were open. Fisting the dirt in frustration, Hermione opened her eyes to see his eyes flash devilishly at her.
She turned her head to see Padma's mutilated corpse a few yards away from them.
No.
She returned her gaze to him. Crouched over her body, he splayed his hand on her stomach and dug his fingers into her skin. Draco smirked, ready to eat her. A glowing red light emanated from his fingertips and within seconds, the heat from her core overwhelmed her. Her eyes widened, powerless to stop the growing sensation within. A sudden intense pleasure exploded in a rolling boil and she wailed, unable to do anything else.
Padma's chest and stomach were glistening with blood. It was fresh, still oozing out from where she was torn open.
NO.
Her cunt contracted as wave after wave of hot, twisting, insane ecstasy contorted her body. She smacked the ground, held in a state of continued orgasm, screaming into the night, unable to hold onto anything.
Draco laughed darkly while her body jerked and contorted in pleasure.
Padma's entrails lay abandoned, half in, half out of her torso. Hermione had interrupted Draco while he was in the middle of eating her. He hadn't finished. Padma's eyes stared back, lifelessly at Hermione.
NO!
Draco's mouth descended to her skin again and he tugged on her trousers. Hermione's orgasm receded and she trembled, heaving and gasping for breath. She fisted her hair, pulling harshly on her scalp. The pain brought some clarity and she noticed her wand nearly within reach, where Draco had tossed it.
Not wanting to risk being overwhelmed by him again, she moved quickly. Turning her body, she kneed him in the face and scrambled away. He yelped in pain and her head immediately cleared of his influence.
Hermione propelled herself forward and grabbed her wand just as his hand clamped down on her ankle.
"This again?" He sounded mildly irritated, and dragged her back by the leg.
Hermione dug her fingers into the ground, ineffectually trying to stop her backward motion. She grimaced as the sticks and stones of the forest floor scraped against her bare chest.
Desperate, she kicked back and made contact with something hard.
"Fuck, Granger! I'm going to bruise."
Hermione turned around to see him rubbing his jaw and she twisted her legs in his arms, throwing him off balance and pushing him to the ground. Straddling him from atop, bare chest heaving from the exertion, she poked her wand into his neck. He was still breathing heavily from the struggle, but calmly lay his hands on her thighs, as if he already knew she wouldn't attack him.
He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "If you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was ask."
Hermione gazed down in horror, seeing the expanse of his bare chest in full for the first time. A pentagram had been carved into his skin from his clavicle down to below his naval. The scarring was red and irritated, barely healed from the gruesome wound it had surely been. Her eyes trailed down the barely healed scars, marring his chest and torso. The downward point of the pentagram dipped below his black trousers, following the 'V' of his abdominal muscles.
His Sectumsempra scar was a paper cut in comparison.
Draco's neck and shoulders were covered in red bite marks. She barely remembered biting him. He lifted his pelvis and bit his lip with a sensual grunt.
"Like what you see?"
Amused, he eyed her horrified reaction, and his member moved between her legs. She was throbbing there, having just orgasmed harder than she ever had in her life.
His fingers traced tantalizing patterns on her thighs, and she studied the lines of his nose and jaw and his blond hair splayed out on the ground around him. He was pale, chiseled nearly to perfection and yet horribly mutilated.
Draco hadn't deserved to have his life taken away like that. But it didn't matter. He wouldn't come to the Order, and so he had to be stopped.
This was it. She had to do it.
She swallowed, trying to summon the strength to put him out of his misery.
Diffindo.
Hermione thought the word, she nearly said it, and imagined blood spurting out of his neck. It would be easy; it would be quick. Draco wouldn't feel anything. But she couldn't make herself say it. She couldn't slice him open and couldn't watch his life drain away. He'd already been cut up enough; his mind and body violated in ways she never thought possible.
The Killing Curse was bloodless. Draco would look like he'd died in his sleep. Peaceful. Lying here just like this. She could put him to rest. She could end his suffering.
Draco slid his hands from her thighs, up her waist to fondle her breasts. She sighed as his fingers caressed her skin.
"Avada…" Her voice shook.
Pathetic. It wouldn't work.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really, Hermione? You don't hate me."
She stared into his silver eyes, reflecting the starlight. He was right. But her hatred didn't have to be directed towards him in order for it to work. Did it? She leaned into his touch, and he kneaded her flesh some more, tenderly twisting her nipples. She bit back a groan.
"I hate what's been done to you," was her breathy reply.
"So do I." Sadness graced his features for half a second before disappearing. He released her breasts and crossed his hands behind his head to watch her. "Go on." He waved his hand at her. "Tell you what. I'll give you one free shot. If you fail, I'll fuck your brains out and promise not to eat you." He rolled his hips and she clenched in response. "No matter how much you beg."
Hermione stared down at him, still pulsing between her legs. There was no lust haze now, but she held a perverse desire for him, shirtless, carved up and lying on the ground while she straddled him. He appeared to be serious about allowing her one try and she tried to summon her hatred.
"Avada…"
She couldn't do it, not with him watching her.
"Take your time," he said with a smirk. "Angel."
Hermione surveyed the pentagram, the red lines crossing over his muscled torso, his Sectumsempra scar, his Dark Mark, and tried to muster her will. She stared into his glittering silver eyes. Draco wasn't human anymore; he was an abomination. His humanity had been ripped away because he couldn't kill. And now he was trapped into living off of murder in the most gruesome fashion.
Voldemort was destroying his followers, robbing them of their lives and their futures. Draco may be the first, but Hermione doubted that he would be the last. Voldemort knew that werewolves and vampires could still have a life for themselves with some effort, and he knew that there were many in the Order that would advocate for them if they won.
But demons? Demons were evil. They couldn't be redeemed. Voldemort wanted to irrevocably corrupt those that had retained their sense of humanity throughout the war.
Hermione eyed the lines of Draco's body. His lean, muscular physique lay beneath her, full of the sinful promise of ecstasy. He used to hold a promise of redemption, of a life changed if only she could help. But now all he had was depravity.
She didn't hate Draco, not even as a demon. He couldn't help it. But she hated Greyback, and she hated Voldemort. She hated how Voldemort coerced people into fighting for him that wouldn't do so otherwise. She hated how he used love as a weapon to control his army. She hated how he punished those who weren't as evil as he was, dragging them all down to his level.
Draco watched her as she focused her hatred. Hermione could tell he didn't think she could do it. She wasn't sure she could either. But he had to die. He was raping and mutilating women and he couldn't stop - didn't want to stop.
She raised her eyes to Draco's. He was waiting, expectant, and lifted his hips with a teasing smile.
"Come with me," she pleaded one last time, her voice trembling. "Please."
"Can't," he replied with a shrug.
Her eyes watered. All these years, he had hoped she would find a way to save him. But she'd failed, and now he had to be put down. Like an animal.
Draco watched her focus, and his smile fell.
"Avada Kedavra," she whispered.
His silver eyes reflected the flash of green light and she held her breath, hoping it worked – and yet not.