Dragon's Bride - Chapter Five
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are not mine. They belong to Time Warner and J.K. Rowling.
Draco Malfoy was in pain. In a lot of pain. He just had undressed the girl he badly wanted for years and he hadn't done anything about it. His hands had touched the soft curves of her breasts just inches away from her nipples and while his dick had felt like it was going to explode any second, he had kept his face impassive. This was a game. The most important game of his life. If he had touched, grabbed, sucked, bitten and taken her body like he wanted to, he would have shown weakness. Hermione would have known that the next time all she had to do was getting undressed and he would be in her hands. And there was still the matter of the little post-wedding ritual... But there was a gigantic difference between knowing you should better not do something and not doing something, especially since the 'something' was the gorgeous Hermione Granger. Naked. Helpless. At his mercy.
"Damn." he cursed quietly. Just when he thought his trousers couldn't feel any tighter. He willed himself to think about something else, Snape in underwear, the boring speech Cornelius Fudge had held on his father's fortieth birthday, a cold shower, showering, Hermione showering... "Damn, damn, god-forsaken damn!" He had to go use the only alternative left to walking into that bathroom and taking Hermione against the wet shower wall -- putting Miss Palm and her five daughters to good use.
***
A very subdued Hermione, clad in only in towel, came out of the bathroom, encountering a calm and collected Draco. "Have you seen any clothes I could wear, Malfoy?" she asked.
"Over there."
Hermione grabbed the bundle of clothes and went back into the bathroom. Three minutes an emerald green velvet robe, embroidered with a pattern of snakes, came into Draco's view.
"Is that your idea of a joke?" Hermione asked.
Draco was confused and looked up into the irate face of his fiancee: "What are you talking about?"
Hermione had always been a sensible girl, but this was just too much. "Those robes! All they are obviously missing is a Slytherin scarf. Don't you understand what it means to me wearing those robes?" she asked Draco with only a hint of despair.
He got up from armchair he had been sitting on, his trademark smirk missing, his facial expression unreadable. "I do, but you must understand something as well," he said threateningly, "Slytherin green and snakes are very, very fashionable right now." His voice dropped and suddenly sounded very quiet and dark: "Very much in fashion. Gryffindor girls should learn to wear those colors with pride, like they have worn them all their life, if they don't want to stick out. And in these times even... no, especially, my bride shouldn't stick out." His index finger traced the velvet-covered valley between her breasts, when he added very quietly: "We can't afford risking anyone looking too close at you, can we? I want to marry you alive and breathing."
"Do you?" Hermione asked scathingly taking a step back and therefore removing his hand from her body, "Really? Why? What do you want, Malfoy? Come on, you are not in this for my good looks or my good grades. So why do you bother with this farce?"
Draco's face grew even darker. "I want you. And I always get what I want, the way I want it." he said without showing any emotions.
Hermione laughed disbelievingly: "Marriage? Children? Isn't that a little bit much? Do you expect me to believe that you would want to sully your pure blood with mine?"
Draco's expression didn't change. "Yes." he said.
"Dream on, Malfoy. I won't marry you. And you can't make me." Hermione smiled with silent triumph: "Don't even try to threaten me with the Imperio, marriages made under duress are null and void in Wizarding World and you surely don't want that." she said mimicking Draco's tone.
Draco grabbed her left arm hard. "Come with me," he said.
"What...?" was all Hermione could utter before Draco dragged her out of the door, through several corridors, down, down into the dungeons. By the time they had reached their destination, a closed cell door, Hermione was shaking with fear. She had recalled every torture that any Wizarding history book had ever mentioned, wondering what which she could expect behind the door and how long she would be able to withstand the pain until she agreed to marry Malfoy.
But nothing could have her prepared for the sight that greeted her when Draco used a spell that rendered the door invisible. In the cell on dirty cots sat her fellow students and muggleborns Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dennis Creevey. They all still wore their Hogwarts robes, only the robes were torn and dirty with stained blood.
Hermione recoiled, her eyes filled themselves with tears, "How... what?" she whispered.
"Take a closer look, Hermione, " Draco said calmly, "they cannot see you. These are the last surviving muggleborn Hogwarts students. I cannot tell you what happened to them before they were brought in here, but I don't think it was too pleasant."
He shoved Hermione into the direction of the cell. "Look at them. This is the best what could have happened to you. And you know what? It wouldn't have happened to you. You'd be dead by now. Those," he forced her head to look at the prisoners, "will live as slaves for the rest of their lives."
"Sla... slaves?" asked Hermione incredulously.
"Yes, slaves. The Dark Lord promised to re-invent the Wizarding World and these three are only the start." He turned Hermione around and looked her deep in the eyes. "They are promised to be given to Avery. Avery likes his playthings to be young." He paused and showed the hint of a smile. "Not that his playthings tend to survive his games long enough to grow any older."
Hermione's eyes widened in horror. Draco continued: "I am sure I could demand them as wedding presents though. But how could I do that without a wedding taking place?"
"You... you bastard. This... this is..." Hermione stuttered.
Draco was unfazed. "The choice is yours - they'll either live with us, properly obliviated so that they neither will recognize you nor rebel against their fate, or they will die a long, painful death." His smile widened. "So what do you choose?"
_________________
Thanks to all of my reviewers: Erin, candygoddess, Princess-Anastaja, Jessi, Befuzzled and echo destynee.
Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are not mine. They belong to Time Warner and J.K. Rowling.
Draco Malfoy was in pain. In a lot of pain. He just had undressed the girl he badly wanted for years and he hadn't done anything about it. His hands had touched the soft curves of her breasts just inches away from her nipples and while his dick had felt like it was going to explode any second, he had kept his face impassive. This was a game. The most important game of his life. If he had touched, grabbed, sucked, bitten and taken her body like he wanted to, he would have shown weakness. Hermione would have known that the next time all she had to do was getting undressed and he would be in her hands. And there was still the matter of the little post-wedding ritual... But there was a gigantic difference between knowing you should better not do something and not doing something, especially since the 'something' was the gorgeous Hermione Granger. Naked. Helpless. At his mercy.
"Damn." he cursed quietly. Just when he thought his trousers couldn't feel any tighter. He willed himself to think about something else, Snape in underwear, the boring speech Cornelius Fudge had held on his father's fortieth birthday, a cold shower, showering, Hermione showering... "Damn, damn, god-forsaken damn!" He had to go use the only alternative left to walking into that bathroom and taking Hermione against the wet shower wall -- putting Miss Palm and her five daughters to good use.
***
A very subdued Hermione, clad in only in towel, came out of the bathroom, encountering a calm and collected Draco. "Have you seen any clothes I could wear, Malfoy?" she asked.
"Over there."
Hermione grabbed the bundle of clothes and went back into the bathroom. Three minutes an emerald green velvet robe, embroidered with a pattern of snakes, came into Draco's view.
"Is that your idea of a joke?" Hermione asked.
Draco was confused and looked up into the irate face of his fiancee: "What are you talking about?"
Hermione had always been a sensible girl, but this was just too much. "Those robes! All they are obviously missing is a Slytherin scarf. Don't you understand what it means to me wearing those robes?" she asked Draco with only a hint of despair.
He got up from armchair he had been sitting on, his trademark smirk missing, his facial expression unreadable. "I do, but you must understand something as well," he said threateningly, "Slytherin green and snakes are very, very fashionable right now." His voice dropped and suddenly sounded very quiet and dark: "Very much in fashion. Gryffindor girls should learn to wear those colors with pride, like they have worn them all their life, if they don't want to stick out. And in these times even... no, especially, my bride shouldn't stick out." His index finger traced the velvet-covered valley between her breasts, when he added very quietly: "We can't afford risking anyone looking too close at you, can we? I want to marry you alive and breathing."
"Do you?" Hermione asked scathingly taking a step back and therefore removing his hand from her body, "Really? Why? What do you want, Malfoy? Come on, you are not in this for my good looks or my good grades. So why do you bother with this farce?"
Draco's face grew even darker. "I want you. And I always get what I want, the way I want it." he said without showing any emotions.
Hermione laughed disbelievingly: "Marriage? Children? Isn't that a little bit much? Do you expect me to believe that you would want to sully your pure blood with mine?"
Draco's expression didn't change. "Yes." he said.
"Dream on, Malfoy. I won't marry you. And you can't make me." Hermione smiled with silent triumph: "Don't even try to threaten me with the Imperio, marriages made under duress are null and void in Wizarding World and you surely don't want that." she said mimicking Draco's tone.
Draco grabbed her left arm hard. "Come with me," he said.
"What...?" was all Hermione could utter before Draco dragged her out of the door, through several corridors, down, down into the dungeons. By the time they had reached their destination, a closed cell door, Hermione was shaking with fear. She had recalled every torture that any Wizarding history book had ever mentioned, wondering what which she could expect behind the door and how long she would be able to withstand the pain until she agreed to marry Malfoy.
But nothing could have her prepared for the sight that greeted her when Draco used a spell that rendered the door invisible. In the cell on dirty cots sat her fellow students and muggleborns Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dennis Creevey. They all still wore their Hogwarts robes, only the robes were torn and dirty with stained blood.
Hermione recoiled, her eyes filled themselves with tears, "How... what?" she whispered.
"Take a closer look, Hermione, " Draco said calmly, "they cannot see you. These are the last surviving muggleborn Hogwarts students. I cannot tell you what happened to them before they were brought in here, but I don't think it was too pleasant."
He shoved Hermione into the direction of the cell. "Look at them. This is the best what could have happened to you. And you know what? It wouldn't have happened to you. You'd be dead by now. Those," he forced her head to look at the prisoners, "will live as slaves for the rest of their lives."
"Sla... slaves?" asked Hermione incredulously.
"Yes, slaves. The Dark Lord promised to re-invent the Wizarding World and these three are only the start." He turned Hermione around and looked her deep in the eyes. "They are promised to be given to Avery. Avery likes his playthings to be young." He paused and showed the hint of a smile. "Not that his playthings tend to survive his games long enough to grow any older."
Hermione's eyes widened in horror. Draco continued: "I am sure I could demand them as wedding presents though. But how could I do that without a wedding taking place?"
"You... you bastard. This... this is..." Hermione stuttered.
Draco was unfazed. "The choice is yours - they'll either live with us, properly obliviated so that they neither will recognize you nor rebel against their fate, or they will die a long, painful death." His smile widened. "So what do you choose?"
_________________
Thanks to all of my reviewers: Erin, candygoddess, Princess-Anastaja, Jessi, Befuzzled and echo destynee.