**I do not own the rights to any Characters in this Fanfiction, those all solely belong to JK Rowling herself. I just claim the plunnie.
You Can't Own Me
You don't own me
I'm not just one of your many toys
You don't own me
Don't say I can't go with other boys
And don't tell me what to do
Don't tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don't put me on display 'cause
You don't own me
Don't try to change me in any way
You don't own me
Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay
I don't tell you what to say
I don't tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That's all I ask of you –
Say Grace
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Freedom.
Click. Click. Click.
Freedom was the sound of her platform stilettos as she made her way down the stage toward the pole and all eyes were on her.
The sweet smell of opium-like smoke mixed with tobacco filled the air, masking the sweat smell for the most part. For the most part.
The rhythm rolled through her body and she undulated to the beat dropping her red, cropped leather jacket to the floor. The studs hit with a clang and she continued her way to the center, passing another girl in mask on her way out.
Right as her hand touched the pole she sighed as the charm coursed through her, releasing endorphins throughout her system allowing the music to take her even more than the small dose of wizard opium she already had backstage.
She moaned into her swing, and the whole world went into slow motion, wizarding bills rained down around her, and she brought her leg up to wrap around the pole. She could caressed her body freely with her hands, luxuriating in the sensations for the crowd of men that had steadily grown around her.
She could see their eyes, each and every one of them, hungry, ready to devour her. Here: this was where she held her power, her last vestiges of freedom.
Here she could be as strong or weak as she chose to be. She could be as innocent and pure or as wicked and evil, and it just so happened that she was none of those things. She was mad, furious really.
She twisted and slid down the pole, slowly spreading her legs, teasing about what she had hidden between. It was only just a moment before quickly spinning her legs back together and crawling to the other side of the stage to continue her dangerous game.
What she knew, that many of the other girls did not, was that the longer you held off on giving them what they wanted the more they would pay you for it. Which was exactly why she had one of the best suites in the "Lounge."
But once again as she crawled away the bills rained down. Internally she cringed, so demeaning. At some point she would be expected to roll nearly naked in the collection beneath her, but she would think about that later. Right now, she was hunting.
During her spin she had spotted her prey for the evening. Simple black mask, light hair, light eyes, expensive cufflinks. Instant target.
She purposely avoided making eye contact with him at first, toying with the men around him. She even went as far to allow one gentleman to touch her ankle, it cost him obviously, but she allowed it none the less. Her target had never taken his eyes off her once.
She approached a wing target two positions over and gave him a quick mini show, barely meant to excite, just enough for misdirection. She arched onto her back before him, she danced for him before gathering her feet beneath her and sliding to the gentleman of the evening.
Here for the first time she made eye contact with him. Allowing herself to come out to play and luring him in. She slid her hands up the side of her breasts as he stoically looked on. But she knew his type, the fact that he had remained meant that she had him exactly where she wanted him.
Rolling so that her knees were beneath her she presented herself to him, still clad in her school-girl mini skirt. Whoever picked out her outfit tonight obviously thought they were hilarious.
With no prompting needed from her she felt his hand slide its way up her thigh and cup her bottom. She peaked at him from under her eyelashes as she leaned back even further into his hand, moaning for him…the crowd, before crawling away.
But that time she caught the smirk that graced his perfect full lips.
She backed up the pole as she rolled her hips to the music, all the while tucking her hands into the band of her skirt. She ran her thumbs along the spans of her taught, exposed stomach as she moved back and forth with the beat.
Money.
She reached up and grabbed the pole with one hand, ran the other up her thigh exposing just the right amount of her barely there knickers to bring on the rain of money, before letting it drop.
She made eye contact with Mr. Black, and POP, there went the first button.
She watched as his eyes went a shade darker and she smiled in wicked satisfaction.
She pulled her lip in between her teeth before, POP, the second button.
His eyes were almost black now, and she could tell by the set of his jaw that he was gritting his teeth. He leaned over and said one word to the man standing next to him before the man turned and left the stage. To go where she had no idea, nor quite frankly did she care.
Another wave of endorphins washed through her causing her to close her eyes to the pleasure of it all. If she wasn't careful, she would lose herself too quickly in the drugs of the stage and she would leave money behind. As it was if she wiggled just right the skirt would fall as easily as all the money was falling around her.
She rolled her hips again before bringing her finger to the third and final button. She looked back up to meet her targets eyes but this time he was gone.
Before any form of regret could be registered, she felt a hand at her elbow and she was very confusedly being escorted off the stage. And by the sound of it, none too happily by her patronage either.
"Where are you taking me?" she did not have to fake the fear in her voice. There were plenty of times that girls were dragged away, never to be heard from again, or worse. They were brought back beaten and half alive for some unknow offense that they will never be able to speak of again. Its hard to talk once your tongue has been removed.
It is also hard to make money.
Speaking of… she glanced back at the stage she had been working longingly and everything that was being left behind. Doubtful she'd even need it though.
"No worries, Miss." The bouncer at her elbow spoke in a gruff broken Irish lilt. "Someone will handle all that fer ye."
Interesting. She thought to herself as her head slowly cleared and she allowed herself to be escorted off the back of the stage. Another girl already hurrying to replace her.
Normally by this point after the show she would have made her back the "powder room" where her money would be taken from her counted and allocated to her room account in the form of merits. The merit system was how they made outside purchases. It was one of the few ways for them to earn some type of their old life back or a modern luxury. The other of course was to be gifted by patrons, that was never frowned upon. For, of course "a gifting patron is a happy patron."
She was led the other direction. But she knew this way too, she had just never been asked to come here. She'd made sure of it. That is why she did not have regulars, everything she earned she earned on the floor, regulars got you invited to the "parlor suites."
Click, click, click, click, click.
And that was where the last bit of dignity she had would be lost, its where all the girls' lives were changed forever. Its where the world that they were living in quit being a game and suddenly became reality. A sad, scary and cruel one at that.
She knew she was a good dancer. Some of the other girls had warned her that she was too good. That there had been whispers in the parlor about her amongst the men. Which is why she had been all the more diligent. She even went the extra mile to let others pick out outfits they thought she couldn't possibly pull off. Unfortunately for them, or her really, she had rocked them all.
Click, click, click.
The walls in this side of the building were lined in intricately designed velvet wallpaper all in deep shades of burgundy and emeralds. The furniture the ornate style that the upper class often felt so entitled to. It smelled of warm mahogany and amber and it made her want to vomit.
She strolled past curious onlookers in her last performance attire, or at least what was left of it. A black leather and lace bustier, fishnet thigh highs attached to an exposed garter belt, the skirt that was barely managing to stay on her hips was covering a pair of super short leather booty shorts that tied the whole thing together. All in all, it wasn't a horrible outfit, it was the fluffy pink accessories she was wearing with it that had made it laughable.
One gentleman at the bar even went as far to gesture as if to ask how much she was. She nearly threw up in her throat right then. Luckily her escort just shook his head and continued them on their way to the elevators. To whomever she was actually intended for.
As she watched the arrow on the elevator climb higher and higher with her inside, she remembered a time when things weren't like this. When, if five years ago you could have gone back and told her that she would be in an elevator on her way to sell her body to some stranger, she would have laughed. Well maybe not laughed, she was after all a lot nicer back then, but she would have definitely had a hard time believing you.
What would that conversation be like? She wondered. Hey? So you know all this stuff you think is going to magically work out if you all work hard together because good always triumphs over evil? Yeah well guess what? Wrong! And you're going to wind up a subjugated prostitute.
Maybe I'd listen…
The elevator dings at the top way too soon for her liking. She can feel herself trembling as the doors began to open.
The big Irish man she decided to name Dublin, gave a tug on her elbow trying to get her to move.
"Come now, miss."
But she doesn't move. She couldn't move if she wanted to.
And maybe I was because her eyes were as round as saucers and she looked completely petrified that he did what he did next but he leant down and scooped her up, carrying her to the back room before depositing her on the ground and knocking twice. She doesn't know why she felt a sting of betrayal as Dublin backed away from her as the door swings open.
"That'll be all." And with that dismissal Dublin turned on his heels and leaves her with a man she recognizes immediately as the man who was next to Mr. Black. The one who left the stage shortly before he disappeared himself.
He takes one look at her. "You, follow me."
Her curiosity piqued she follows him across what has to be the penthouse suit, with its floor to ceiling windows and private balcony pool. He pauses at the bar and hands her a drink, its pink and swirly.
She sniffs it but can't place the concoction for the life of her.
"What is this?" she asks the man, refusing to take a drink.
"Just drink it, you look petrified and nothing like the dancer on the stage right now. This," he tipped the drink back against her lips, "will change that."
The second she felt it hit her stomach she felt its effects. It was much like the wizard opium only stronger and, sighing she rubbed her hand up her arm.
Everything felt so good.
"Alright, lets go." The man said again leading her further into the penthouse. She stumbled and tried not to giggle but failed. This earned her a scornful look from her current subjugate.
Who, she thought absently, would be cute if he wasn't always frowning like that.
She liked his brown hair, there was almost something familiar about it.
He too, stopped at a door at the end of the hall before knocking twice. However, instead of waiting he simply opened the door and ushered her in with a shove to the back, followed by closing the door behind her.
She stumbled into the room catching herself toward the center.
"Please forgive Theodore. He can be quite rude sometimes." Came the velvety voice of a man right in front of her.
Mr. Black sat leaning on a black velvet chaise, mask, cufflinks and all. She let out another giggle.
He smiled. "I see Theo was also forthcoming with the refreshments this evening."
She would be lying if she said she didn't catch the heat in his eyes at that revelation, and for some reason that did something for her excitement. He hadn't yet moved from his relaxed position as if this in itself was some kind of challenge.
She wondered, Was this still a game she could play to win?
She leaned from one hip then slowly to the other, testing her stability. All the while watching as his eyes took in her every move. Determining she should be stable enough she took her first steps in his direction. His eyes lit up with excitement she smiled to herself and she continued her slow walk past him and to the massive window lining the wall behind him.
You can't win if you don't play, that was for damned sure.
She stared out at the city scape for minutes, much longer than she thought he would permit. She took in the pungent differences to the city she once loved. What was once diverse and beautiful now held its own dark and sick twisted sense of Victorian beauty. She had not seen the city through eyes like this since before the war was over.
"I would say it is marvelous…" came Mr. Blacks voice from beside her ear, "but I would wonder what you would really think." She shivered as she felt his finger graze her back while toying with and errant curl.
"Would you really though?" She knew he noticed her reaction to his touch, but she pretended not to. She needed to play this as long as possible.
He gave a dark chuckle, this time more boldly trailing his fingertips down the base of her spine. "You would be surprised." Whatever drink Theo had given to her had her arching her back into this man like a cat. Causing him to chuckle again, before leaning to whisper intimately in her ear. "Whatever shall I call you my pet?"
She let out a sigh as he brought his hand up to cup her neck possessively. If he was giving her a name, that would mean this would more than likely be a temporary arrangement. It was also less dangerous that way. Girls who knew too much often went missing. It was always better to stay behind the mask.
"Of course," his cool steel eyes met hers in the window, "I could always see who's behind the mask."
She knew not to panic. That would make him want it all the more.
"Maybe…" she shrugged, turning around and brushing past him again. She breathed yet another sigh of relief when this too was allowed. "But then where is the fun in that. Part of this whole," and she gestured around them. "is the mystery of it all isn't it?"
"Touché." He gave her a nod and watched as she slowly circled the room.
"So, why did you bring me here? Not that I'm not honored." She wasn't. "But I was literally mid dance and…"
He raised a hand cutting her off. "I don't share"
He said it with such raw intensity that she was momentarily stunned. She was not winning this game. If she had been a cat, he was a panther.
"Oh. I see…"
His lips quirked again and that predatory gleam returned to his eyes from before. This time she watched as he approached her. Removing each cufflink just so, before shaking out of and discarding his coat. He had made it to the third button of his shirt by the time he reached her.
"Now…" he tipped her face back with the tip of his finger, "what shall I call you?"
He stared down at her with so much intensity she almost blurted out her real name. Mask be damned.
"Amortentia."She smoothly covered. "Amora for short."
"Amora." He tested her stage handle on his tongue. No one really knew it because it was hardly used. That was, until the rumors started.
He leaned down, about to bring his lips to hers and she felt herself bubble over in panic. "And you? What do I call you?"
He stopped his descent but did not pull away. He smirked as he met her eyes. "Sir."
"Sir," she heard herself whisper as he traced the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. He watched her mouth move with so much hunger that it scared her, especially so knowing she didn't know who was behind the mask and what he was capable of. But still, mask was best.
He turned her so that her back was pressed against him, they were facing another section of windows. This one with enough light to reflect their images back at them.
Her face was wild, eyes lidded and drugged. His was wild too, only in a different, all-consuming way.
"Undo that last button Amora." He ordered in her ear causing heat to flood her body.
She found herself doing as she was told, no thought required to perform the action.
Damn, that potion.
With a single last POP her skirt fell to her feet. She felt no shame in his reaction to her, she already knew what it would be. She had seen it plenty of times before. It just had been sometime since she saw it up this close and personal. And with herself literally in arms reach.
He sucked in a breath and slid his hands around her waist. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her mouth at his contact, everywhere he touched left a trail of fire. He drew his hand over her garter belt before following the clasps to the barely there leather and lace knickers. He ran his fingers in the top of the band and she felt herself grind back against him.
She could easily feel the evidence of his arousal and as much as she didn't want this to happen with that potion she was powerless to stop it.
"Mmm, patience Amora." He purred in her ear as he snaked one of his hands up to cup her breast. With his other he slipped one finger between her thighs to feel her heat between the fabric that was drenched there. "Or perhaps patience isn't a virtue you carry."
He slipped a second finger between her legs as he forced her legs apart with one of his knees. To her horror she mewled and whimpered unashamedly against this strange man's hand.
She shook her head back and forth against his chest. "Please…" she begged, but what was she begging for. Did she want him to stop? Did she want more?
"Yes. Beg." Sir grinned, "I like to be begged. Here I'll show you." As a reward he slipped his hand down the front of her knickers and touched her directly.
She almost buckled at the sensation. He held her up against him as he worked his ministrations on her.
"Now tell me… Amora." This time he said her name almost mockingly, "Whatever would have possessed Theodore to have dosed you with the house specialty before bringing you to me this evening. The woman I saw on stage..." he breathed in her hair, "was full of fire and rage. Why would she need liquid courage, so to say?"
"Never been. Up here." She panted. The truth spilled from her lips like vomit at the potion's behest.
At this, Sir froze. She looked up to see his reflection in the mirror. His eyes bore into hers.
"You've never been up to the parlor suites?"
She shook he head. Curious if this was her trump card out. But one look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. If he wanted her to himself before, he did doubly so now.
"Are you?"
And she knew what he was asking before he even finished. Again, she shook her head no. Thank gods there had been Ron before everything had gone to hell. She couldn't imagine if this were how she were to lose her virginity as well.
He murmured to himself as he resumed stroking her, almost as though he were contemplating her words. He tweaked her nipple through her bustier which elicited a squeak from her and another wave of wetness to coat his fingers.
"No matter. He murmured." He slid his hand up her neck leaving her breast behind unattended. His hand cupped her face. "Mask off."
Even her drugged state was not enough to numb the shock of that statement.
"What? But I thought we agreed?" her heart was pounding a mile a minute.
No. No. No. No
"That," he said pointedly, "was before I learned I never will have to share you with this world." He continued to hold her gaze in the glass as he slowly fingered the edges of her lace mask. "One thing still untouched, all mine and unruined. Just one tug…" he let the sentence trail off.
She was going to vomit. This was it.
She felt his finger gently pry the mask from her face, it faded to smoke the moment it was removed. Now only he could put it back on. She watched his face, horrified to be completely exposed before him.
"Holy Fucking Shite!" Sir breathed a sigh of what almost sounded like reverence and she closed her eyes tight against what she knew was next. "Bloody Hermione Granger."
Why?
Why couldn't she have stayed Amora just a little while longer?
She hated being herself. Hated it even more when other people knew who she was. They always thought there was some hope where she was involved. Like somehow, she was going to get them all out of this.
Didn't they get it? They failed! Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, Shacklebolt, McGonagall they are dead. All of them, and for what? For them all to end up in this crazy twisted world where Voldemort found a purpose for mudbloods after all.
Apparently, as long as you went through the proper channels and cleansing rituals it was okay to surrogate using one, oh and she had to be sacrificed after as well, of course. But hey, sacrifices must be made when there is a current shortage of pureblood children being born.
Oh, or you could be lucky, like she was and be consorted with as long as you were constantly reminded of your lesser place and simply used for fun. A grand business venture really. She can't remember which of the death eaters came up with that one.
"Granger." Sir commanded behind her, "Open your eyes."
She really did not want to open her eyes. She fought it with everything she had truly. She was so scared of what she'd see once she looked again. But even being forced to obey his orders could not prepare her for what, or rather who, she saw staring back at her.
"Malfoy." She whispered.
Oh crap, this was bad.
He had hated her throughout their entirety at Hogwarts. And she sure as hell has done nothing to warrant that change now. And now they had seen each other, oh gods, he was going to kill her.
She whimpered, but stopped suddenly when she felt more than heard, him chuckling. "None of that Granger." Next, she felt his hand creep up through the hair on her scalp, before he none to gently pulled her head back.
She looked up into his eyes directly. Not seeing the loathing, she thought that she'd find, instead his eyes were searing with fire, burning her straight to her core.
"You're mine now." He spoke to her sternly, "Just add this as another reason on my list."
This time he gave her no pause as he brought his lips down on hers aggressively leaving bruises in his wake. When she opened her mouth to breathe, he forced his way in with his tongue.
Hermione twisted in his arms and pushed against him as much as the potion would allow.
This was wrong. Malfoy was wrong.
He had steadily been rising in the ranks, really thriving in this mockery of a world.
He broke away from their kiss to assault her breasts as he worked to remove the article of clothing entirely. He was like a man possessed and it made absolutely no sense to her. If anything, he should have been disgusted to discover her identity.
Mudblood number one. Especially in his books.
"Malfoy, wait!" She tried to override the potion with any reserves of magic that hadn't been sapped from her throughout the day.
"Stop fighting it Granger." He returned to her mouth the moment her bra dropped to the floor. He lifted her with ease and her legs instinctually wrapped around him.
"We can't do this." She breathed between kisses, even as she writhed against him. "I can't do this. Not with you."
He whole heartedly laughed then before depositing her on the bed. He resumed work on his shirt buttons once again.
"Do you have someone else in mind Princess? Please do tell?"
"There is no need to be ugly." She spat.
His shirt dropped to the floor and she could vividly see the outline of over every ridge and muscle in his well-honed body. As well as count his numerous scars, which oddly enough Hermione found only added to his current sex appeal.
No. There was definitely no sex appeal.
"Besides," he started on his trousers and Hermione felt the heat flush all through her body at his next words. "I already told you you're mine."
He removed his pants and shorts exposing his impressive member. Hermione remembered hearing the Slytherin girls gossip in school, but she'd always just chalked them up to high school girl nonsense. Apparently, these stories had been completely founded and justified.
He wrapped his hand around his shaft and gave himself several slow pumps as he looked down at her splayed out before him. There was something about the intensity in that moment that Hermione could never remember feeling sexier.
"Come here Granger." His voice cracked on the order, but she found herself obeying anyway. She crawled over to the edge of the bed where he was steadily stroking his shaft. "Up here." He commanded once she reached him and he brought his hands to her face, staring her in the eyes. "I know this is wrong on so many levels, but Granger I am going to have you, and no one else is going to touch you. Do you understand?"
She felt herself nod. No.
He leaned in and kissed her slowly and passionately. Building an impossible heat between them that left her panting.
"Now, are you done fighting?"
Again, she nodded, but this time there was no voice answering in the background.
"Good." Draco smiled wickedly then, "I have been imagining since fourth year what those lips would look like wrapped around my cock."
It was with that startling confession that she felt her head being guided down towards the tip of his shaft.
It's hard to make money without a tongue. And another hysterical giggle thanks to a sudden rush of calming endorphins from the potion. She looked at the tip of his cock curiously, he was still stroking it slowly and she watched fascinated. She felt herself lick her lips just watching him and his large girth strained even more in his hand.
"Fuck, Granger. I'm trying here, I really am, but if you do something like that again I'm not going to make any more promises."
"Sorry." She glanced up at him through hooded lashes.
Why was she apologizing again? She honestly couldn't remember what she had done and pulled her lip through her teeth in frustration.
When had everything become so muddled? And what was this pink fuzz on the edge of her vision?
Draco groaned and ran a hand over his face. "That's the fucking bloody stuff wet dreams are made of Granger. If you had any idea of half the things I have wanted to do…" he trailed off having found himself again and let out a deep sigh.
An idea of half of what things?
"Granger," the commanding tone was back in his voice, she felt her body instantly respond, "those lips, around my cock. Now."
Now that was an idea she could get behind.
He truly did have a glorious member.
Hermione smirked up at him and Draco almost came right there. She could see it in the way he stiffened, after all shed spent the last four years learning how to read the patrons, she would know.
Hermione gathered her knees just so beneath her so that her bottom was primed in the air, she'd been trained for these exact moments.
Upon being "recruited" for the Lounge the girls we forced to undergo rigorous training. Learning everything from how to tease to how to please. Hermione had always been an excellent student.
She took one well manicured finger, tonight's flavor was Tickle-me Pink, and ran it down the outline of his abdomen, marveling at the man before her. When her finger met his shaft she continued her singular path down to the tip, his hand stilled and forgotten as he watched her intently. She circled the crown and when she found that sensitive spot underneath she used that one finger to tip the head of him forward while at the same time she leaned towards him with her mouth open, just as he'd done to her, as she guided him onto her tongue. She heard him make an audible gasp when she closed her lips around him and she hummed in approval.
As she leaned forward to take more of him into her mouth she felt Draco glide one hand down her back to squeeze her rear. She ground against his hand and moaned at the contact, wanton for more. She sucked hard, pulling her way back up his cock laving the underside with her tongue. She quickly learned that the more she moved the more he rewarded her with his touches.
As she licked and sucked, his hands worked their magic bringing her fire and excitement, bringing her closer to that place that she was sure only he could help her reach.
She heard herself whimper when Draco's hand stopped toying with her and he fisted both hands in her hair.
"That's it Granger." He held her head still and gave one experimental trust into her mouth, the tip of him reaching all the way to the back and almost causing her to gag. "Just relax."
She looked up at him as he threw his head back, continuing his slow thrusts into her mouth.
She squeezed her legs together to try to ease some of the new and sudden discomfort.
His grip on her hair tightened as the speed of his thrusts increased. Hermione felt herself relaxing more and more and realized that the head of his cock was no longer making her gag. He had forced his way fast that and his cock was now halfway down her throat and she couldn't remember a time when she had been this soaked before.
She moaned around him and his eyes shot to her, dark and hooded. He was nearly there, only now realizing that she had been watching him. He would have come that way, used her and maybe even left her alone.
Wasn't there something to that? Something important?
"Granger?" he panted, pausing mid thrust.
She didn't respond not that she could. But Draco had caught enough of the idea. A slow smile spread across his face as he gave one long slow forceful thrust back into her throat, this time his quicksilver eyes never leaving hers. Again she moaned, squirming back and forth before him. The mix of pure lust, awe and excitement that passed over his features was not lost on her. It was as though he had just discovered some secret that only he knew the answer to, and for all she knew he was.
"Fuck. Me. Granger." He groaned and pulled out of her mouth abruptly, leaving a string of drool hanging from her lips. "Since when did Gryffindor's Princess get turned on by being used?"
He pulled her up and then pushed her so she was laying on her back before him, breathless and so royally turned on that she could scream.
When in deed? Merlin knew it had never been like this with Ron.
Ronald had been sweet stolen moments in between missions, nothing he had ever done had made her feel used. And he had certainly never been so commanding with her body.
Draco tightened a hand around her throat and she groaned, again he smiled.
This was most definitely his game now.
With one quick jerk he ripped her panties from her with his free hand.
Hermione felt a mild surge of panic, quickly replaced by overwhelming pleasure as he plunged one long finger inside her, causing her to arch her back. Only his hand on her neck was keeping her in place as every nerve ending in her body started firing off.
"Merlin." She heard him mumble as he drove his finger in and out of her before adding another one, stretching her even further. He crooked his fingers inside her, finding that spot that she so desperately needed him to and she almost screamed.
He hovered over her as he worked her into even more of a frenzy than she thought was possible. She writhed and squirmed beneath him, still wearing the garter belt, stockings and heels from her show.
"That's right, Granger." He praised her as her hips came up to meet his every motion.
"Please, Malfoy." There she was begging again, she was so close to losing it all.
"Draco." He corrected distractedly, never ceasing his never ending torture on her body.
She shook her head against the sheets. She wouldn't give him that. He may take everything else, but he would never be more than Malfoy.
He just smiled at her refusal, but rather than demand compliance he inserted a third finger while simultaneously applying pressure to her clit.
She made a silent Oh, as she was sent careening over the edge. Draco covered her mouth with his own swallowing her cries as she rode his fingers back down.
When his hand was replaced by his leg she tried clamping her legs closed around him, pushing against his chest weakly as he deepened their kiss.
"Do you know what I think?" He asked her after capturing both of her hands with one of his and pinning them above her head. He leaned down to take her nipple into her mouth making her gasp out loud. He used her distraction to wedge her legs back apart with his knee, sliding his entire body against her.
"I think you like having the power taken from you. Not being the one in charge for once. I think you like being forced to allow me to be in control." He moved to lave her other breast and Hermione arched into his mouth.
He shifted and she could feel him poised at her entrance, and a fresh wave of panic came racing to the surface, with it, a small moment of lucidity.
"No Malfoy! You can't!" She pleaded, knowing they had officially reached the point of no return. If he did this, if they did this, she would be ruined.
The scariest part was that she knew she would not be able to fight him in any of this. In fact if everything else proved to be model, then she was going to quite enjoy it. But what about later, when she returned back to her room with the rest of the girls?
Would she be okay then?
Draco brought his mouth down on hers punishingly, until she melted into the effects of the potion once again, forgetting why this was all such a terrible thing. When he pulled away he was breathing hard and she found a new hard edge to his eyes.
"First off, you agreed to stop fighting me." He scolded, steel cutting through his voice. He emphasized this declaration by slamming himself harshly inside her. "And second, you are going to call me Draco."
Hermione was given no time to adjust at his sudden intrusion as he set a commanding pace taking out his frustrations on her. Luckily for her the potion ensure that every ounce of pain she felt was somehow muddled with insurmountable pleasure.
"Oh God!" Hermione exclaimed, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist instinctively. She could feel him everywhere and the sensation was absolutely overwhelming.
"Not quite." Draco chuckled darkly. "Try again…" he prompted her with a particularly punishing thrust of his hips.
She pulled her lip between her teeth, stifling a groan and still refusing to give him the last thing he was asking of her. She watched as his eyes went wide, staring at her mouth.
"Mmmnph… that mouth again." He leaned down to whisper into her ear, his hand at her hip guiding the way she grinded against him in just the right way. "Do you know I used to watch that mouth back at school Granger? The shapes it made as you sucked on all those sugar quills."
Oh god. She could feel it, that tingle beginning to work its way up from her toes. She clenched around him causing him to suck in his breathe.
"Fuck, Hermione…" she'd interrupted his entire line of thinking.
"Do you know how many times I watched you studying in the library, alone? Always sucking on those damned sugar quills."
Bloody. Fucking. Hell! She was so close. One more word and she knew he would have her. She spasmed around him again.
"Hermione.." he groaned, "you're so fucking tight. Just like I'd imagined you'd be every time I wanted to throw your ass over one of those library tables. Oh gods Hermione…"
"Holy fuck… DRACO!" She shouted as the strongest orgasm of her life over took her, wave after wave. All at the hands of Draco Malfoy. The fact that he'd manipulated her into calling his name had not gone unnoticed, by either it had seemed.
"That's right." He crooned letting go of her wrists in favor of leaning back and taking hold of her hips. "And who's pretty little cunt is this now, Hermione?"
"Yours Draco…" she sighed in defeat, knowing when to recognize that she had lost.
"Yes…" he hissed as he plunged his hips into her. "You are mine Hermione."
She knew her second climax already nearing from his new angle, she could feel the tip of him pressing against the very back of her at another sensitive spot even she hadn't known about. She dug the tips of her heels into his back, urging him on.
Fuck. This was bad, but oh so good.
Hermione rolled her hips testing out different pressures and was delighted when Draco was more than willing to accommodate synchronizing with her to give them both the maximum amount of friction.
"Yes, please…just like that." Hermione begged him when he found the perfect harmonizing rhythm.
He complied murmuring, "Fucking mine…" under his breath the entire time.
He flattened the palm of his hand against her abdomen, increasing the pressure from the outside every time his tip came in contact with his hand.
She came, hard, screaming Draco Malfoy's name into the room for the entire floor to hear. Her orgasm only spurred on one of his own and Draco cried out as he spilled himself deep inside of her. She could feel his hot jets of semen as he looked down at her ferally, her ongoing orgasm milking out his as well.
Even now she was somehow still prey captive in a predators gaze.
As she came down from her high she noticed a glint of light from the hand that Draco had yet to remove from her stomach.
A wedding ring. Of course.
Hermione was going to be sick. She dislodged from Malfoy as quickly as she could and made it to a waste bin just in time for her to empty her stomachs contents, among them the remnants of the potion.
"Not typically the reaction I'm used to getting. I'm not going to lie."
Hermione glanced over from her crouched position to see Malfoy lounging with one elbow propped on the bed. He was watching her with an expression that was an odd mixture of amusement and disgust. It made her blood boil.
"You're married!" she flung at him across the room.
"Obviously." He chuckled, hardly a glance at the wedding ring on his finger.
She stood, looking around awkwardly for something to cover up with. Anything really to help hide some of the evidence of what had just taken place.
"Then why would you…?"
"What?" he asked while simultaneously cleaning the fluids that were running down her leg, that she had been so desperately trying to ignore, and conjuring a robe for her. "Come here? Bring you here?"
She nodded and put on the robe. It was black silk and barely came down low enough to cover her nether regions, but she supposed it was better than nothing.
And why did you take it as far as you did? She wanted to ask, but didn't. She didn't know if she really wanted to know the answer to that question.
"Really Granger? You have to ask?" He questioned her in a bored tone that told her he thought she would have picked up on his intentions by now.
She said nothing, just stood there waiting, meeting his cold gray eyes head on, refusing to back down. The least he owed her at this point were some measly answers. Its not like she could do anything to him, the women at the lounge were all wandless and drained of their magic daily.
"Because I can, Granger."
She watched as he stood, still gloriously naked, and walked over to a cabinet that housed a full bar in the room. He poured himself a glass before turning and gesturing to offer her one as well.
She shook her head.
He sighed before taking a drink and looked like he was contemplating something quite seriously.
"Astoria is… everything a pureblood wife should be."
Okay, not entirely where she thought he was going with this.
" She is beautiful, elegant, someone truly worthy of bearing the next Malfoy heir." He took another sip of his drink and took a seat in a chair near the fireplace. He then gestured for her to join him.
Intrigued, Hermione walked to the sitting area, but she leaned on the seat rather than sit in front of him. She did not want to be in a position that placed her below him again.
He rolled his eyes before continuing. "Honestly everything is perfect Granger. My life, the world, you mudbloods are finally in their place, and I couldn't be richer."
She balked at how flippantly he was able to list off all those positive traits about his life. Meanwhile the unlucky half of the wizarding world was either dead or in servitude.
He took another long swig of his drink before leaning towards her and resting his elbows on his knees, a crazed look in his eyes.
"But do you know what perfect is Granger?"
"Everything you ever asked for?" she silently cursed herself. She was really trying not to goad him any further.
In this case, she was lucky, he just leaned back and laughed. Whole heartedly so, and it caught her by surprise. So much so that she rounded the chair and took the seat, her curiosity piqued.
What on Earth was Draco Malfoy on about? Was he completely unhinged?
"You would think that would have been the case right? You really would. But perfect Granger," he sneered, "is boring. And I want to tear it all down."
Oh gods. Draco Malfoy has lost his mind.
"And I just found the witch who's going to help me do it."
Oh no. Not again…