A/N: Thanks ever so much for all the love you've been giving this one, you guys. I'm so pleased so many of you are on board for it. Don't forget to climb about the Death Eater Express on FB if you'd like to get sneak peeks on chapters ahead of posting =) Much love! xx-Kitten
Jailbird Blues
By Kittenshift17
Chapter 5
The sound of the elevator groaning alerted Hermione to their impending company.
"You better get back to your cell," Neville told her, nudging her knee to get her moving, "Don't imagine they'll take kindly to the idea of you doing wandless magic and being able to roam outside your cell."
"No I don't imagine that would be useful at all," Hermione agreed, getting to her feet quickly and slipping between the bars of Neville's cell.
She hurried down to the next cell on the opposite side of the corridor before crawling between the bars of her own cell and making it look like she'd been inside it the whole time.
"And just what's to keep me from telling that lot that you can escape whenever it takes your fancy, Princess?" Rowle smirked at her across the row.
Hermione looked the man dead in the eyes as she glared at him.
"Well I imagine that telling them I can get in and out of everyone's cells would see them do something to prevent that," Hermione replied acidly, "And I hardly think you or anyone else in this place actually means to prevent me from being able to crawl into your cell if it strikes my fancy to shag you, does it, Rowle?"
"You're good, Princess," Thorfinn smirked at her, "But how do I know you're ever going to crawl into my cell?"
"Well, that's the beauty, isn't it? You can keep your mouth shut on the off chance that I'll climb in there and spread my thighs for you. Or, you can rat me out and ruin the chance for yourself and everyone else too."
"Keep your fucking mouth shut, Rowle, or I'll crawl through the bars and beat you to death," Rabastan threatened immediately to the sound of laughter from all of the inmates except for Carrow, who was still whimpering and sobbing over the pain in his crotch.
"You better make good on the idea of crawling in here, Kitten," Rowle commented, "If I have to sit around and watch you shag these Order fuckers and not me, I'll rat you out."
"Blackmail already. How predictable," Hermione rolled her eyes, "How about you close your eyes when I'm shagging my fellow inmates and you won't have to see me do it?"
"Not a chance, Baby-girl," he smirked at her.
"Pervert," Hermione accused.
"Vixen," Thorfinn retorted, clearly enjoying himself as he argued with her.
"Moron," Hermione said, feeling no actual anger, even if she had almost been killed by him once.
"Brat," he accused.
"Oh, that's rich, coming from the spoiled pureblood prince," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Don't be jealous of my bloodline, Kitten," he winked at her, "You climb into my cell and I'll be happy to see it continue through you."
Hermione might've been embarrassed over his offer if it weren't exactly what she planned to do.
"Careful there, Thorfinn," Hermione let a wicked smirk crawl across her face at his words, "I might just take you up on that."
"Ooooh," Lestrange, both Malfoy men and Theo Nott all said in unison.
"Whenever you're ready, Baby-girl," he invited, spreading his arms wide in invitation.
Just at that moment the doors to the elevator creaked open to emit Auror Entwhistle, Auror Proudfoot and a freshly bathed George Weasley.
"George!" Neville called, sounding simultaneously pleased and sympathetic to his being sentenced to life in prison.
George didn't answer Neville or even look in his direction, or Kingsley's, even when Kinsgley reached through the bars and touched his arm. He looked like he was in shock, as though he hadn't been eating, sleeping or even hearing anything that went on around him. Hermione recognised the expression. It was the same blank, confused stare he'd been wearing since Fred's death.
"Hells, how long did they give you, George?" Seamus called, trying to get his attention to greet him too.
George didn't seem to hear them as he was frog-marched up the walkway towards his cell.
"Georgie?" Hermione asked softly, reaching through the bars and catching his hand.
"C'mon Granger, let us lock him away, would you?" Entwhistle sighed.
Hermione ignored the young Auror as she tugged on George's arm, feeling the brush of his magical signature - an unguarded cookie jar filling her mind for a moment. He turned towards the pressure and warmth of her squeezing his hand and pulling him around to face her.
"Come on, Georgie, look at me," Hermione commanded of her bereft ex-boyfriend, using her free hand to cup his cheek and lift his face until he looked at her.
He blinked slowly at the feel of being touched and Hermione surveyed his face critically. He looked like hell. Worse than she did. Worse than any of the other prisoners she'd seen since she'd been looked up. He had dark, bruise-like circle under his eyes. His cheekbones stood out gauntly, making his eyes seem too large for his face, and the eyes were bloodshot and red as though he hadn't been sleeping either. His hair and skin was freshly bathed, his soft red hair cut short, close to his head, no doubt by Madam Pomfrey.
"H'mione?" he asked, a flicker of recognition showing in his eyes. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, as though he hadn't spoken in a long time.
"It's me, love," Hermione nodded, feeling tears prickle behind her eyes to see the state he was in. She could practically feel the tear in his soul where Fred had been ripped away from him.
"Hermione," he whispered, his breath sighing out slowly as he leaned towards the bars of her cell, his hand tightening on hers as he began to show vague signs of life. He rested his forehead against hers for a long moment.
"Saw what you did in the courtroom," he muttered to her, his eyes closed as though being awake and speaking were taxing his strength.
"I couldn't end up here while that bitch was still free after all she'd done," Hermione told him.
"Blood magic, Beautiful?" he asked, "You promised us you wouldn't use that."
"I know. I didn't have much choice," Hermione told him, smiling at the familiar endearment he'd been using for her since she'd been fifteen.
"Missed you," he murmured, opening his eyes to focus on her face once more as though he were drinking in the sight of her.
"I missed you too, Forge," Hermione whispered to him, her eyes filling until tears trickled down her face.
"No, don't cry, Beautiful," George said, rousing himself to reach for her as he slipped his arm around her waist, "I'm supposed to be able to make you laugh, not cry."
The strangled sound between a sob and a laugh left her chest in a painful squeak. Hermione tried to hold it in, trying to be strong, but the sight of the boy she rather loved, bereft of her other love, his identical twin, made her heart ache inside her chest with missing Fred and missing the rest of the Weasleys. With missing Harry and her parents. With the wretchedness of knowing she might very well end up stuck in here forever.
"Told you the high of killing Umbridge would wear off, Kitten," Rowle's voice was quiet from across the row, but Hermione ignored him for the time being, loathing that he'd been right.
"Hey, come on, Beautiful," George whispered to her, "None of that or I'll be forced to snog you into submission."
A hiccup escaped her at the idea even as George's free hand curled around her jaw, tipping her head until she was looking into his familiar brown eyes. She could see the pain within them as he looked at her for a long moment. Pain and the love he felt for her.
"Go on then," she told him in a hoarse whisper of her own, "Do it, or I'll cry all night."
The faintest hint of his usually easy grin pulled at the corners of his mouth even as he lowered it and pressed his lips to her sweetly. Hermione sighed against his familiar lips, revelling in the feel of his magic sliding against her own, feeling the painful sting of Fred's absence just as surely as George did. His tongue swept into her mouth without fear of her rejection and Hermione welcome the sensation as his taste flooded her senses. His arm around her waist tightened, pressing her body against the full length of his through the bars of the cell and Hermione ignored the way Proudfoot had begun attempting to gain their attention and cease their interaction by clearing his throat loudly.
She was surprised when none of the other inmates made a comment or a noise at the snog she shared with George Weasely just then. She's expected lewd comments from the likes of Lestrange and Rowle, maybe something rude spoken in Russian from Dolohov or taunting from Nott or either of the Malfoy wizards. Merlin, she'd even expected a bit of teasing from Neville or Seamus, but none came. Or if it did, it wasn't spoken loudly enough for her to hear it as she drowned herself in the familiarity and comfort of George's lips against her own.
She kissed him until she couldn't think straight, couldn't see straight and couldn't form coherent sentences, stopping on when Entwhistle sighed and tugged at George to pry him off of her.
"Planning on kissing anyone else today, Granger?" the Auror asked her.
"Don't be jealous, Entwhistle," Hermione murmured, her eyes blinking open slowly as she tried to put her thoughts in order, feeling like she was in a daze.
"No more tears, Beautiful," George told her, his lips slightly swollen from the delicious kisses they'd shared even as the Aurors marched him further down the row and into his cell.
"That was hot," Lestrange apparently couldn't resist commenting, but Hermione ignored the wizard, her eyes following George as he was led into his cell where his things – one each carried by the Auror's as though he'd been incapable of doing so himself in his current state before snogging her.
Nibbling her slightly swollen lower lip thoughtfully, Hermione wandered back from the bars to sit on the edge of her bed, being sure to sit forward far enough that Lestrange couldn't reach her, though he tried.
"Blast it all, witch, just a little closer," he muttered, grasping for her through the bars behind her.
Hermione ignored him. The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in and Hermione realised that as soon as humanly possible, she was going to have to begin implement her plan of falling pregnant. The mandrake leaf under her tongue would be of little use to her if she managed animagi only to become a bear. Being a bear wouldn't help her get out of her cell and away from this wretched place. And unless she could seduce one of her guards into being careless enough to let her have a wand, Hermione didn't think she was going to be able to bust out of Azkaban so very easily.
No, it was looking very much like the only way out of this cage was with an extra life growing inside of her. The trouble was the curse Dolohov had used on her that made mensturation so painful and the fact that she'd been on extremely strong contraceptive and ovulation inhibitors since she was fifteen to prevent the side-effects of the curse. She didn't know exactly how long it might take the contraceptive to wear off and she had no idea how long it might be before she was of a nutritional health enough to begin ovulating again, let alone to be able to carry a baby to term.
As she sat on the edge of her small cot, ignoring the way Lestrange managed to push himself far enough through the bars separating their cells that his fingertips skimmed her back very lightly, Hermione resolved herself to the fact that she was going to have to bring her body back up to a level where it would be primed for pregnancy and for the strain of carrying a baby to term. Madame Pomfrey had forced nutritional potions into her alongside all of those to boost her immune system and fix the number of other health problems that had resulted from the lack of nourishment and constant stress of being on the run from the Ministry, fighting in a war and living in a tent.
Her age – not yet twenty – leant her a certain leg-up toward the notion of falling pregnant because she was currently at the age where she was most fertile, most receptive to pregnancy and youthful enough to endure the ravages of the condition. Hermione let her gaze slowly travel over the wizards she could see from her cot. Thanks to the layout of the cells with their half-stone, half-bars for walls, she could see most everyone if they were standing. Her cot face towards the back of the prison, and Hermione could see Dolohov in her direct line of sight.
She was rather unnerved by the sight he made, constantly moving inside his cell to keep himself in line with her. Across from her, Rowle was still standing at the front of his cell, peering in at her as though the sight of her feminine form – even whilst stationary – utterly enthralled him. George was standing inside his own cell and peering out, vaguely taking in the details of his new living quarters. He'd yet to comment on the fact that he was living opposite Antonin Dolohov, but Hermione suspected the time for that would come later when he'd regained his wits a little bit more.
Hermione planned to seduce the wizard just as soon as the lights went out for the night and the rest of the inmates began to snore. Seamus was standing at the bars to his cell as well, trying to engage George in conversation about his trial, about anything that might pass for news or excitement within this dull place. Nott too was inside his cell, smirking occasionally at the whimpers that continued to escape Carrow inside his cell. Lucius Malfoy must have grown bored with the proceedings when he realised their newest resident was George and Hermione couldn't see him inside his cell, suggesting he was lying down.
"What time do we get fed?" Hermione asked, slanting a glance at Rowle across the row.
"Another hour or so," Rowle shrugged at her.
"Right, come on you lot," Proudfoot was saying once they'd locked George in, "Bath time for the lot of you today."
"Yes," Lestrange cheered, "You're in for it now Granger."
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione told the man, smirking at him over her shoulder, "I've already showered twice today and it's Proudfoot. The chances of me being outside this cell and accessible to you with him around are slim to none at the best of times, Lestrange, let alone when I'm all shiny and new after seeing the healer."
"Seriously?" Lestrange whined, "Come on, Entwhistle."
"You're a fuckin' pervert, Lestrange," Entwhistle informed him even as Rabastan, Neville, Kinsgley and Draco began to strip out of their robes.
"Wouldn't it make more sense to do that in the bathroom?" Hermione asked, eyeing the way Lestrange pulled his robes off easily.
They were obviously all used to seeing one another naked and Hermione recalled being told they were sometimes taken in group of two or four.
"Nowhere to put your shit in the bathroom that it won't get wet, Princess," Rowle smirked at her, "It's one big, open room with a bunch of shower heads and nothing else."
"Oh, delightful," Hermione grumbled under her breath.
"It's cold in there too," Lestrange grumbled, "You might find that some of us feel the need to crowd close to better preserve body heat. See anything you like, love?"
Hermione twisted in her sitting position to see that all four now-naked wizards had been freed from their cells and had begun filing past her cell toward the far end of the corridor. She let her eyes slide over each wizard slowly, knowing they were aware of her scrutiny, just as surely as she knew she would be scrutinized in return. She didn't speak at the sight of them all naked. It rather amused her to be seeing Neville in the buff, given that he had been so shy during their time at school together.
He certainly didn't looked shy now and had nothing to be shy about, if she was honest. Against her will, Hermione felt her lips twitch when they were led past her cell.
"Nice arse, Kings," Hermione called as the dark-skinned Auror passed her cell.
She couldn't resist. It was undoubtedly a fine arse.
"Hermione!" Kingsley laughed, glancing over his shoulder, his deep laughter bubbling from inside his chest.
"What?" she asked innocently, "You didn't think I was going to perve?"
"Not on me," he chuckled.
"Oh, please," Hermione laughed in return, grinning at the African wizard wickedly, "I've been perving on you since the day I met you, Kingsely Shacklebolt."
"It's true, Kings," George chuckled quietly, "She moaned your name in her sleep once."
"George!" Hermione scolded, her cheeks turning pink.
"What?" he grinned at her, "You thought I'd forgotten? It's not every day I wake up to the sounds of my witch moaning another man's name. At least anyone not Fred's name, anyway."
"It was one time, and do you even remember how he looked when he turned up for the meeting that day. Don't even try to tell me you weren't perving on him too," Hermione protested while Kingsley's booming laugh carried throughout the corridor.
"I don't perve on other wizards, Beautiful," George assured her.
"You perved on Fred with me all the time," Hermione argued.
"Don't be ridiculous. He was my mirror image. Might as well have been perving on myself," George smirked.
"You did that too," Hermione told him.
"You fucked this one and his twin?" Rowle asked, jerking his thumb in George's direction.
Hermione rolled her eyes at George when he began to laugh long and loud at the shock in Thorfinn's voice.
"Oi, what was that?" Lestrange called from down the corridor, "Did I just hear that Granger's been double-teamed?"
"You're in for it now, Hermione," Theo called from down the corridor.
"Seriously, Hermione? You fucked the twins? I thought you had a thing for Ron?" Seamus asked.
"Ickle Ronniekins?" George's laughter began to bubble free, "Hermione and Ron? Really, Seamus?"
"What's the matter, ginger? You'll share her with one brother but not the others?" Carrow's voice snarked from his cell as some of his pain obviously began to subside.
"Ignore them George," Hermione told her ex-boyfriend, rolling her eyes.
"Wait…" George said, twisting his head slightly to meet her gaze, "Did you fuck Ron while you were on the run?"
Hermione snorted.
"You do realise that I'd have better chances as seducing Ginny than Ron, don't you?" Hermione asked him, "Especially considering that most of the time he was too busy slobbering after Harry to realise I'm actually female."
"What?" George asked, frowning.
"Tell me you did not get to twenty-two years old before realising that your younger brother was gay, Georgie," Hermione began to laugh at his flabbergasted expression.
"Ron's… but he's had a thing for you since, like, first year. And he dated that Lavender Brown girl for months in your sixth year," George protested.
"It was a cover," Hermione rolled her eyes at him, "He didn't want to admit he was into blokes so he tried to make the attraction to other boys go away by literally burying himself in twat. It didn't help. He was telling us while we were on the run… the whole time he was dating Lavender, he had to be thinking about a bloke to get it up at all."
"Seriously?" George asked, suddenly looking gleeful, as though he couldn't wait to tell Fred. He even glanced over his shoulder as though expecting to find his twin there, laughing about it too.
"Yeah. Remember my fourth year when he was so put out about me going to the Yule ball will Viktor Krum?" Hermione asked, "We all thought it was because he was jealous and wanted to go with me. We thought wrong. He wanted Krum himself."
The shout of laughter that left George almost made Hermione jump.
"You're avoiding the question, Kitten," Rowle reminded her from across the cell where he'd begun disrobing himself, clearly preparing for his own trip to the showers.
"What exactly are you wanting to hear, Thorfinn?" Hermione asked, turning her gaze to the big blonde Death Eater and trying very hard to ignore the swoop of desire low in her abdomen as he pulled his shirt off over his head and began removing his trousers. Good Gods, but the man was ripped.
"You let him and his twin shag you? Together?" he asked, nodding in George's direction.
Hermione realised that they only way to get through this would be to bluff her way through the teasing until it got old. Biting her lower lip in a way she'd once been told by Krum was sexy as hell, Hermione trailed her eyes over the muscled frame of the man in the cell opposite hers.
"Oh yeah," Hermione grinned at him wickedly, "I let them both have me. At the same time. I was especially fond of the times when I'd be straddling one, and bent over by the other one. There's nothing like that full feeling, you know? So completely entwined with the two of them. Hmmm."
Hermione moved forwards until she could nuzzle her face against the bars of her cells as though she were being intimately touched just then. She smirked wickedly.
"My favourite part," she went on, letting her voice go husky as she watched the wizard across from her, his blue eyes suddenly fixed completely upon her, "Was that first, slow, simultaneous penetration. Being deliciously stretched and filled up… mmm, and the feel of them both so deep inside me? Surrounding me so completely, pressing me between the two of them, enveloping me in their heat, filling me up until I swear I could feel them both hitting the back of my throat, rubbing against all my internal walls just right. Gods, it was so good, Thorfinn."
Hermione watched the way Thorfinn Rowle' pupils blew wide at her words and the breath way she said his name. She could see his cock hardening as his trousers slowly slipped to the floor, forgotten by the wizard as he listened to her talk, one of his hands ghosting towards his own cock as it swelled.
"I'd be so wet and so hungry for it that sometimes, I could take both of them deep inside my pussy," Hermione went on wickedly, letting her hands trail over her breasts, "Two glorious cocks gliding in and out of that tight, wet cavern of heat. But we only did that sometimes, you know? Only when they begged. The rest of the time… well, have you ever felt the way it feels to have a man's cock so deep inside your arse that it burns just a bit? Gods, there's nothing like it, Thorfinn. That stretched, burning sensation of pleasure that borders on pain. I loved that. I ached for that. I'd beg them both to fill me up to the brim until there was nothing left to give and then I'd beg them to fuck me so hard, Thorfinn. I begged them to be rough with me, to pound into me until I'd scream my release and revel in the feel of them filling me up with their come."
"Fuck, Granger," Hermione heard Theo mutter from further down the row, every wizard within earshot currently hanging on her every word.
"Bloody hell, Hermione," Seamus cursed as well, apparently shocked by her words and her description of the things she'd let the twins do to her.
Only George seemed amused in addition to being aroused. When Hermione slanted a glance at him, he winked at her, looking rather smug over the way she detailed what he and his twin had done to her with such obvious enjoyment.
"Hmmm," Hermione hummed, allowing her eyes to slide to half-lidded as though she were reliving the things she spoke of, her hands trailing over her breasts and done over her waist to further taunt the wizard, "And when they weren't doing that, they both did this thing with their tongues… Gods, it was amazing."
"When I get out of this cage, witch," Thorfinn threatened, his cock fully erect now as he stared at her, his hand pumping up and down the enormous appendage skilfully.
"What makes you think I'll let you lay a finger on me when the man so skilled at licking my pussy and fucking my arse is in the cell right next to yours, Thorfinn?" Hermione practically purred at him, smirking wickedly.
"Draznit'" a low mutter in Russian that Hermione had yet to hear met her ears while Rowle glared at her like he wanted to climb through the bars and fuck her until she screamed.
Hermione slanted her gaze sideways to find Antonin Dolohov in a similar state of undress to Thorfinn. She couldn't see his lower half beneath the wall separating their cells, but she could see the wiry, lean strength of his torso beneath a fine layer of dark hair across his chest. He watched her with dark, hungry eyes and Hermione suspected that like Thorfinn did, his hand stroked the length of his own cock over the idea of doing to her what she'd told them Fred and George had done to her.
The first words he'd spoken since she'd encountered him again and he called her a tease. Hermione curled her lip at him ever so slightly.
"Ukusi menya," Hermione retorted in Russian and she watched the way his eyes flared with an even more ravenous hunger at the sound of her telling him to bite her.
"Idi syuda, solnyshko," he retorted, and Hermione smirked at him cruelly, shaking her head and refusing the directive. She also chose to ignore the way he referred to her as his little sun.
"You speak Russian?" George asked, watching her interact with the older wizard.
"I speak most languages," Hermione reminded him, "I've got an eidetic memory and spent a lot of my free time as a child learning and absorbing everything I could get my hands on. Languages were a challenge that occupied me for hours upon end; of course I speak Russian."
"Can you get through those bars, Hermione?" George asked her, smiling slowly as he watched the way she pressed herself against the bars, wanting to climb through them again so she could roam the corridor rather than having to stand there while Rowle and Dolohov jerked themselves off to the idea of fucking her the way she'd described the twins doing.
Hermione smiled widely at him, nodding her head, "I can, but I'll get in trouble if I do it when the guards are paying attention or might catch me at it."
"In other words I should expect you in my cot with me around midnight?" he grinned at her.
"Sooner than that, hopefully," Hermione replied, smiling widely at him.
George laughed at her words while Hermione worked hard to keep her eyes on his face rather than letting her eyes stray to the rippling, muscled form of Thorfinn Rowle, naked and in the throes of his own pleasure. She lost the battle when a sharp hiss tore between Thorfinn's teeth. Hermione's eyes snapped over to the blonde Viking of a wizard just as jets of sticky white fluid shot from the end of his cock, coating his palm as he brought himself to release. She was unnerved by how much the sight of seeing him come turned her on.
Hermione felt a slickness between her own thighs, her eyes trailing over the impressive expanse of his body, taking in every inch of him slowly. She'd seen him naked once before – in her first year at Hogwarts when he'd been a seventh year – but he'd changed since then. The limited food of a prison diet and a hard life as a Death Eater had stripped every skerrick of fat from his body, leaving thick, corded muscle to bulge in in all the right places, defined by the tawny skin pulled taut over them.
The angry red scar of his Dark Mark was burned into the flesh of his left forearm and he bore several scars across his torso that he'd not had eight year ago. He was leaner, harder, and more dangerous. He looked every bit a lion with his long golden mane sprawling about his powerful shoulders his sinewy strength beneath tawny skin. She hated herself a little and cursed the world a bit for the fact that it had been so long since she'd actually been laid that she found herself yearning to crawl through the bars run her tongue over the tight abs he had on display.
Hermione also realised she was already a bit twisted and entirely on board with the parole-by-pregnancy plan when she found herself eyeing the sticky white fluid upon his hand and thinking seriously about slinking over to him and asking him to work the life-creating substance deep inside of her.
