A/N: Here's the deal, this story isn't getting near enough hits or reviews. I do believe I'll discontinue it, depending on the outcome of this chapter. I know that sounds stupid and like I'm complaining or something, but I just don't want to keep forcing myself to write this story if people aren't into it[it's becoming harder and harder to write on this one]. Anyway, This is were the story goes from happy fluffy Dramione to... well, read the warning.
Warning! Explicit sexual scene. Non-consensual. Abuse.
Chapter 7:
"Get away from me!" Hermione hopelessly yelled. She knew that any attempt she made, wouldn't thwart this horrible man. She cringed as he placed a mocking hand on her cheek.
"Oh, don't talk like that. Don't you want to engage in those physical activities I was talking about?" he winked at her. She jerked her head away from his hand. Mistake. He drew back and a loud 'Smack' echoed around the room. "Girl, you won't disobey me!"
He let loose her bindings, only to grab a fist full of her hair. She screamed out in agony as she felt her scalp would separate from her skull. He drug her to her mother's bedroom. And threw her on the bed. She tried to scramble towards the window, but he grabbed her by the ankle. "You honestly didn't think I'd let you get away that easy did you?" he guffawed at her, pulling her back onto the bed.
This time, he crawled on top of her and held both of her wrists with one hand. He muttered a spell and her confines returned, only this time they tied her limbs to the four posts of the bed. Tears leaked out of her eyes as the severity of the situation hit her. She knew what was going to happen and knew that it wouldn't be nice or painless, in the least.
He ripped her thin, tank top, revealing the red brassiere underneath. "My, what have you been hiding underneath all those prudish clothes?" He roughly tore away her sleeping shorts and saw the modest, red knickers. "It's a shame that this body should be wasted on such a filthy Mudblood." She turned her head away from his wild, lust-crazed eyes hoping that this would be over soon.
He clawed at the cups restraining her pale mounds, scratching her painfully in the process. She suppressed a whimper. His hands fiercely kneaded, pinched, and pulled at her breasts. She couldn't hold back the cry of torment. He smirked; she felt something stiffen against her leg and trembled with disgust. He pulled one hand away from her chest and covered it with his mouth. He bit down and Hermione could feel the skin break. His free hand roamed over her stomach, over her side, and under the elastic of her undergarments. With one swift movement, he jerked them away from her body, throwing the ruined panties behind him.
She sobbed, fore she knew what would come next. His menacing laugh rang out upon hearing her mourning. "Oh, this is the best part. You'll love it, trust me." he bent down to place a rough kiss on her lips and she shrunk away from him. He pulled back and with the last ounce of defiance she could muster, she spat in his face. He whipped it away and punched her in the stomach. "Believe me, I can make this more painful bitch." he warned. She merely closed her eyes, trying to regain the breath he knocked out of her. "Crucio!" he shouted.
Her agony pierced the air. Her body felt as if it were being bent in every direction. Her bones seemed to twist every which way. She pulled against her bindings, screaming to the Heavens above. She heard a snap and an excruciating pang in her shoulder. As he lifted the curse, she opened her eyes and stole a glance at her right arm. She shrieked at the pain and realization. It was twisted at an odd angle; it was out of the socket.
He noticed the dislocation and said, "I'll leave that just like that, as a reminder for you to behave." He again brought his assault to her mouth and she wasn't sure she could move, but she didn't dare try. His hot mouth was on hers and his tongue was forcing it's way to meet hers. She felt as if she would puke. He tasted horrible! Like whiskey, cigarettes, and those nasty caramel chews.
In her distraction, she didn't notice as he pulled her right leg free of the ropes. He wrapped it around his waist, unzipping his pants, and positioning his member right over her entrance. Suddenly she felt like she was being torn in half, as he rammed into her. She screamed into his mouth. The pained cries of the brunette fueled his thrusts, each one hurting more than he last. Each one sent a sharp shiver through her damaged shoulder. His 'kisses' moved from her mouth to her throat. He bit and sucked at it painfully. He moved them to her ear and whispered, "You're so much tighter than your whore of a mother." As he shoved his cock farther into her. She cried in anguish at the pain, physical and mental. She silently prayed that he would satiate his desires soon.
His fingernails began to rake over her front. His merciless pumping was increasing in speed and force. She smelled a familiar iron smell that turned her stomach. It was all she could do to keep from retching. The pain and the smell was becoming too much for her.
He began to grunt. He came in for another kiss. His teeth grated over her bottom lip. She cringed as she now tasted the putrid, iron-filled liquid. He threw his head back with a loud moan and she felt a warm, slickness fill her.
Finally! She mentally exclaimed. Somehow, though, she knew that he wouldn't just leave her alone. She watched disgusted, as he panted, eyes still closed in the post orgasm reverie.
He removed himself from inside her. She winced again as the pain flooded through her. He stood and with a wave of his wand removed her bondages. "Go clean yourself up, you disgusting bint." he pointed towards her mother's bathroom. She sat up, her arm still hanging at an agonizing, awkward angle. She stiffly stood and walked the few steps to the bathroom, where she then collapsed on the tiled floor. She heard the door slam behind her and heard him magically lock it.
She sobbed into her good hand. After a moment, the pain of her injury only seemed to be growing worse. She jerked open the cabinet door under the sink. She found a towel and put it to her mouth, biting down on it. She closed her eyes and with left hand, she pulled her right arm upwards. With a sickening crunch, and a barely muffled screech, her arm was back in place. She spit the towel out of her mouth and attempted to crawl towards the toilet. She didn't make it before she heaved up her breakfast.
Finally, the vomiting stopped. She threw the towel over the horrible smelling mess. She put her hand on the counter and pulled herself up, looking at her mangled body in the mirror for the first time. She couldn't help but gasp as she looked at the damage.
Her lip was cut and bleeding. She had long, oozing scratches that started at her collar bone, went over her bruised breasts and ended at her sore hips. There was also a dark, purple bruise from when he had struck her. There were large splotches on her neck, where he had marked her. Her wrists and ankles had rope burns. Finally, she could see a mixture of crimson and milky fluids running from her throbbing womanhood.
She sobbed again as she began to draw up a bath, wanting to soak her abused body. To busy herself while the tub filled, she cleaned up the excrement that she had expelled previously. The smell nearly brought on another wave of retching, but her empty stomach didn't coax anything up.
Finally, she turned off the taps and tested the water. It was very hot, but she didn't care. She nearly plunged into it. A light scream escaping her when she fully submerged her battered areas. Her pussy was particularly aching from the near scalding water. She sunk down under the water, closing her eyes against the heat. She wanted to burn away the essence that he left on and inside of her.
((heart))
In the meantime, Draco was attending a party. It was a formal dinner for Crabbe. He was to take the Mark tonight, the 17th anniversary of his birth. Everyone was congratulating the exuberant boy, and remarking on what an honor was being bestowed upon him. The man clapped him on the back, the woman hugging him, and everyone was presenting him with lavish presents.
The seemingly joyous occasion was what awaited Draco in a few weeks time. He would trade them all, the presents, the admiration, the shear power he would have. He would trade them to just be a normal teenage wizard. Hell, he'd even trade to a half-blood, or dare he say it? A muggle-born!
His miserable thoughts turned to Hermione. He wasn't sure if that made him feel worse or better. Worse in that he couldn't see her and he knew that the next time he would... she would hate him. However, no matter the situation, just picturing her perfect smile caused one to invade his face.
Mentally cringing, he stashed the smile away as a particular pug-faced bint slinked his way. He wanted to dash out of the room, but knew that that would earn him some wry looks. Sighing, he merely looked to her as she walked up to him.
"Aren't you excited Draco? Dear Crabbie is now a man!" She turned from him to look adoringly at ego-fed moron.
Draco sneered, "Yeah, but too bad he's not a man in the right sense."
The black-haired witch turned back to him quickly. "He will be tonight." She smirked.
"Poor him." he replied coldly, fighting the urge to gag at the sickening thought of the pug and the pig together.
"You didn't seem to mind our old snog sessions." she defended her pride.
"I'm a good actor, whereas you're a terrible kisser." he stated as though he were bored, looking to his fingernails. She huffed a quiet scream and stalked off muttering about spoiled prats or something or other.
He delighted in himself for knowing just how to push about everyone's buttons. With Pansy it was physical mockery; Weasley a monetary mockery; Granger an intellectual mockery. Potter was a little different, of course a sure ringer was to mention his parents, but even Draco thought that to be rather low. Whether he would admit it to himself or anyone else, he pitied that boy. Every solace a person has was taken from him- parents, loving homes, and even recently his Godfather. He even noticed that Potter never kept a girlfriend. Even Draco could see how crazy he was about that Weaselette, but they had broken up and Draco knew it was Harry's self-sacrificing to try to keep her alive in the coming war.
He was brought out of his sympathetic thoughts, as a round of Happy Birthday rang out. Draco saw his father eying him and with a swift motion of his hand, he knew he wanted him over there. He joined Lucius in standing beside the Birthday boy as Voldemort walked out. Every head bowed in his direction and Crabbe knelt down on one stocky leg.
Voldemort raised his arms, as the heads of his followers did the same. He withdraw his wand form inside his robes and walked up to the still kneeling teen. Crabbe's fat head turned up and looked at his Master with esteem. The pale man with red slits for eyes held the wands above his head as if it were a sword he was going to plunge into the boy before him. He muttered an incantation and brought his wand down to the thick arm of Crabbe who tried not to grimace at the immense pain.
Draco's eyes briefly closed, fore he was imagining himself there groveling before the false 'Lord'. He was beginning to hate the very ground that that bastard walked on. Everything about him now repulsed the blonde. The blonde who would soon be one of his most highly respected followers.
