A/N: Well, here I am again, and I once again changed the genre. I decided horror fit just a lil bit better…don't you agree? Anyway, warnings. Clears throat: ATTENTION FUTURE READERS (maybe) IF YOU CONTINUE ON THIS LITTLE JOURNEY AND DECIDE TO READ MY STORY, I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE HORRORS YOU MAY ENCOUNTER. THIS IS A VERY VIOLENT STORY. THERE WILL BE NO SAPPY LOVE MOMENTS OR ANYTHING EVEN RESEMBLING PRETTY. IT WILL HAVE VIOLENCE AND FORCED SEXUAL ACTIVITY, THO. IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE IT, DO NOT READ. I REPEAT: DO. NOT. READ. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Okay, basically that means if you flame me about the theme of this story, you will receive a reply asking you why the hell you even bothered to read my story when you knew damn good and well what it was about. Oh yeah, almost forgot…slash is also in this. Nothing blatant yet, but there are definite references.
True to his word, her captor did not return for several days; days in which Hermione had plenty of time to hurt, and to think. She knew that there was no way that her captor was Harry, despite appearances. Hermione knew how the Polyjuice Potion worked very well, thank you. She had made one in her second year, after all. Harry was one of her best friends; he would never hurt her because he loved her. The only person he had ever loved more than her and Ron was Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy. Hermione's mind stuck on that and just wouldn't let it go. Even though Draco had turned away from the Dark and become a spy for the Light, rather like Snape, Hermione did not trust him. She had tried to tell herself that it was just because she was slightly jealous of how much her best friend loved him, jealous of the way that he stole Harry's attention from her. She knew that could very well be it; after Ron had died Harry had pretty much become Hermione's whole world, but now that he had Draco he didn't need her as much as she needed him. Also, after changing sides, Draco had never been anything but courteous to her. Yet Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that he was up to something. It was in the way she sometimes caught him studying her when Harry wasn't paying attention. As though he still thought of her as the lowly mudblood, and would just love to say so.
However, Hermione had kept these thoughts to herself, telling herself that Harry was truly happy, he deserved that happiness, and if Draco Malfoy still hated her for her bloodline, well, what could she expect from nearly eighteen years of his father pounding that belief into his head? So she had smiled when she saw them together, had rejoiced with them when Harry finally defeated Voldemort, and had ignored any odd glances thrown at her by Draco.
Now, she wasn't so sure that she had done the right thing in ignoring them. What if Draco had just been using Harry all this time? What if the prejudice ran deeper than even she had believed? Hermione didn't want it to be true. She wanted Harry to finally have someone to love, someone good, but who else was close enough to Harry to get the final ingredient needed for the Polyjuice Potion?
In her desperation to find someone else that could be doing this to her, anyone but the one person her best friend loved with all his heart, Hermione ran through the list of still-living Death Eaters, only to find her search was all in vain. The only surviving Death Eaters were currently in Azkaban, put there by her, Harry, and that lying little BASTARD!
Sudden rage got a hold of her, and Hermione screamed, uncaring about the pain that ripped through her body as it jerked in response to her fury. She screamed with everything she had, no words, just a drawn out shriek of inarticulate rage. She screamed until her throat was raw, until her voice gave out, and when it did she simply shut her eyes, slumping in a dead faint as the pain in her body finally reached her.
~****~
When she next opened her eyes, it was only to stare into the fake green ones of her captor. Her anger, which she had thought spent earlier, suddenly returned full force, and finding she was unable to use her voice, Hermione piled all her rage into her eyes and spit in his face. Green eyes twinkled behind glasses and lips opened to let out laughter of delight. Her captor was fairly dancing with glee as he grinned down at her, a mixture of amusement and a horrible sort of relief in his voice as he told her, "And to think that I was afraid you would lose your fire. Why, you're just as feisty, if not more so."
Hermione had to keep repeating to herself that this was not Harry, standing in front of her and looking so cheerful at the sight of her fury. Not her Harry. Not the Harry that she had known since she was eleven years old. Not the sweet, considerate, sometimes a little touchy but otherwise even tempered Harry Potter that she had loved like a brother for most of her life. No, this was an imposter, a cheap fake of Harry to confuse her mind, to break her in the worst way. She had to keep that in mind and not lose her head, not fall into the trap that her captor had set.
Her captor suddenly muttered something, flicking what could only be a wand, and Hermione knew that he had said a spell. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable pain, but it never came. Instead, a wonderful warmth seeped through jaw, and it no longer hurt. Eyes wide in disbelief, she opened and closed her mouth a few times to test it, and when no pain came, raised her dumfounded face to look him in the eye.
He was grinning, but it was a cold grin, full of malicious intent. Suddenly frightened, Hermione tried to move away from him, but quick as a flash he waved his wand and said another spell, forcing her to remain where she was. He looked down at her, still grinning, and asked, "Well, what shall we do today?" His eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes, suddenly lit up with an idea, and his grin grew even wider. "I know!" he exclaimed, his voice full of twisted joy, "Food! Now stay right there while I go get some", he told her, chuckling to himself at his own joke. He ran out of the dungeons, humming a tune to himself.
Within a few moments he returned, carrying a tray full of food in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He set these items just out of her reach, and then stepped back, observing her.
The hunger that Hermione had barely felt through her pain and anger suddenly raged through her, only overpowered by the fierce thirst that accompanied it. She tried not to let this new weakness show, but unable to turn her head or move in any way, she couldn't help the longing that entered her eyes as she stared at the glass in front of her.
Her captor chuckled, taking pleasure in her obvious misery. Upon hearing that chuckle, Hermione tried once again to appear disinterested, but soon gave up, knowing it was a losing battle. Once he saw the defeated look in her eyes, her captor asked, "Would you like something to drink?" as though they were at a party and he was the gracious host instead of a torturer. He released her from the spell, but kept the glass and food out of her reach. Oh, how she hated him.
Upon seeing her anger, the man gave a delighted laugh. "Oh, I do think that I will like this", he said softly, reaching out to stroke her hair. Hissing, Hermione tried to bite him, which resulted in a hard slap across her face. "If you ever", the man who looked like Harry and wasn't hissed, "even think of trying that again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"
Hermione stared into his eyes, and realized that he meant it. "Oh, I understand, all right", she bit back, and barely kept herself from adding I understand that you're psycho. The man leaned back and returned her stare. "Good", he replied softly. "Very good." Abruptly he turned and picked up the glass of water. He turned back to Hermione and asked her, "Do you want this?"
For a moment Hermione thought of pretending that she didn't, but decided not to, knowing that he'd already seen how much she wanted the water. That's probably his plan she thought furiously. Get me to admit that I want it and then keep it out of my reach. Deciding that she might as well get it over with, Hermione nodded, and he thrust the glass into her hands.
Surprised, all Hermione could do for a moment was stare down at the glass, but when he reached his hand out to grab it back, she raised the glass to her lips, ready to savor the water's coolness in her mouth, on her tongue.
She should have known better.
Just as the water touched her lips, just as the first few delicious drops hit her tongue her captor raised his wand and with a muttered "Accio", the glass was back in his hand, mocking her.
At first all Hermione could do was stared dumbly at the glass in his hand, wondering detachedly just how she could have been so stupid, but her captor's chuckle brought her back with a snap. She raised her eyes to the level of his face and noticed that he was watching her bemusedly, a smirk on that his face…Harry's face. Harry, who had never smirked in his life. She felt tears burning her eyes, and blinked them back angrily. No. She would not cry again.
"Did you really think that I would just give you the water?" her captor asked, amused. "And everyone was always going on about how smart you are. If only they could see you now, huh?" Setting the glass down on the tray of food, he stood, taking the tray with him. "I guess I'll just take this and be on my way," he told her with a smile. He began to leave the dungeons, then paused, as if an idea had just occurred to him.
"Wait a second", he said, beaming down at her, " I know a way that you can get the water." He rolled his eyes and smacked his forehead, saying; "I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. Okay, here's what I propose," he told her, setting the tray down and moving towards Hermione, stopping when he was a few feet from where she stood. "I'll let you have that glass of water if you put that filthy mouth to a use that suits it first." He took in her confused expression with a grin, and elaborated, "In terms you r mind can understand, I mean blow me. Literally."
He laughed as Hermione recoiled in horror, a whisper of "No" escaping her lips. In one smooth motion he'd pulled down his pants, taking his underwear with them and freeing himself, stepping out of the clothes piled around his feet. Hermione's eyes widened a split second before they slammed shut, and she shook her head whilst repeating "No, oh God, no", over and over.
"Yes", her captor replied, his tone indicating his amusement at her antics. "Don't try to pretend that you don't want to. I've seen you looking, noticed the expression in your eyes, the one that says 'if only…' if only what, 'Mione?" he asked, her nickname coming mockingly from his lips. "If only he loved me, if only he noticed…if only he were straight? Well, here's your chance. Suck me off, blow me hard, get down on those filthy knees of yours and gobble me." And then he laughed cruelly.
It was that laugh that made the horror recede; that laugh that told her clearly just how much her tormentor was enjoying this little game that made her open her eyes and scramble away from him. Glaring defiantly, she told him, "Never. If you put that…that disgusting thing in my mouth I'll bite it off. Do you understand me, asshole?"
"Crucio." The word was a hiss, and suddenly Hermione was on fire from head to foot. She fell to the floor, screaming and sobbing, as the pain roared throughout her body, worse than anything that she'd ever felt in her life. It was over almost as suddenly as it had started, but it seemed to go on forever. When it was over, Hermione found that she lacked the strength to stand and so lay on the ground, panting harshly and feeling as if she were about to throw up. Distantly she heard her captor putting his pants back on, but the sound was far away and unimportant. Dimly there was the sound of a whispered spell, and then there was a head close to hers, lips whispering into her ear and she couldn't get away, couldn't twist from the awful voice and the things it was saying.
"Oh, but you will," the voice was saying, "A few days without water and I'm positive you will. You will and you'll swallow every single drop of me, or no water. I can wait; I'm a very patient man." With that said, he rose, picked up the tray, and made as if to leave. Yet once again he turned back, winking at her conspiratorially. "I lied", he admitted, giving her a mad grin, "I really have no patience." Plucking the glass of water from the tray, he set it in her line of vision and left, calling over his shoulder as he did, "Let's see how strong you really are."
Helplessly, Hermione stared at the water in front of her. Her mouth watered, but there was nothing that she could do to alleviate her thirst, as the last spell he had uttered had been a binding spell. So she was forced to watch the ice in the water melt, forced to watch the glass sweat with the cold, and do nothing.
He came back a few hours later, and she told him to go to hell. He laughed and left. But the next day he was back, and the day after that. Both times Hermione had flatly refused to do anything, and both times he had left with nothing more than a laugh. But they both knew she was weakening; that soon she would give in. The problem was, Hermione decided on the second day, that she hadn't known how this would feel. She hadn't known that thirst could become painful, didn't know that the pain could rip through her body and take her over. She didn't know that she could hate the sight of a simple glass of water. Now she did, and on the third day, when he came to ask yet again, she didn't refuse…and she got her water.
~****~
It had taken her three days to crack, but crack she did, and he got what he wanted. She'd gotten on her knees without resistance, took him into her mouth and done as he'd told her. She'd cried the whole time. It was the best blowjob Draco Malfoy had ever received, and he'd come in seemingly endless bursts, with her swallowing every drop, just as he'd told her she would. At the end he saw the pitiful hope in her eyes, hope that battled with fear that he wouldn't do as he'd promised, that he'd simply leave her without water. For one moment he toyed with the idea of doing just that, and then decided against it. He wasn't ready to kill her just yet. So he gave her the water, and the dumb gratitude in her eyes was almost enough to send him over the edge again. He liked this, this power that came with tormenting her, forcing her to please him to live. He was just afraid that he had broken her. He didn't want to do that just yet, but from the looks of it, he had, and now it was a matter of days before he tired of her.
He watched her drink the water, gulping it down so quickly that she almost choked. He knew that she was going too fast, but he didn't stop her, rather, he watched with pleasure as she started to heave. "Best keep it down", he told her, "You wont be betting any more for a while."
She glared at him, still heaving, and Draco was pleased to see that he hadn't broken her, after all. He gave a small sigh of relief and watched as she finally got her gorge under control. Deciding that he better be going, he rose, picking up the glass that she had so carelessly dropped when she was through with it. "'Till next time," he murmured, blowing her a kiss as he left.
After the Polyjuice Potion wore off, Draco headed home. He was currently pitching a rather large tent in his pants and he knew just the former Gryffindor to help him get rid of it.
