Author's note:
Darlings, thank you.
Bianca, THANK YOU for being my first reviewer. Spell666, I'm really trying not to overdo it. I want some graphic-ness, to really make an impact, but i don't want TOO much detail. I don't want it to be disgusting, but i want it to be FELT, you feel me? So thank you for appreciating that.
merrrpak, thanks, i will! Lol
Now this chapter is super short. I needed it to end where it does and i didn't want to much nastiness in between the start and end. I promise the next one will be longer.
Ok. Enough of that. No one likes reading through crazy long author notes. Let's get on with it!
-MamaPunxxx
Chapter Three
She had been beaten mercilessly. At first with swift blows and sharp kicks. He had then taken off his belt and after tearing away at her clothes, he had taken it to her flesh. Snapping against her skin, over and over, criss-crossing welts that broke open and bled. He spit foul filthy words at her and she only prayed that it would end soon. That he would grow bored and be done with it, or that she would black out from the pain.
And soon, he did stop.
Hermione lay on the floor of the lounge, her body bloody and broken. She could feel sharp pains from what she knew to be several broken ribs. And her flesh hurt so badly, she could not distinguish between individual lash marks. She stared, horrified through swollen eyes as George's face took on an animalistic expression, having up until this point, been wearing a mask of calm indifference. Now that mask melted and morphed into something sinister. Something excited. And she knew what was coming.
"Always did enjoy the sight of ma own handiwork," he spoke down at her, grinning maliciously, and undoing his trousers. "Always did make me wanna play," he stated, licking his lips, and dropping down to his knees, forcing her legs apart.
He entered her swiftly and roughly, and began pounding into her wildly. He wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed slightly, biting her face and forcing his tongue into her mouth, as he thrusted with increased abandon, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Hermione was numb. She didn't care. Her only hope was that he would finish her off. That she would die on the floor of this lounge that she so hated. She knew what TRUE fear felt like. What it tasted like. What it smelled like. And she knew that death was not something she feared, but embraced. A sweet escape from the hell her life had become. She just wanted it to stop.
George's actions were becoming more and more erratic and she knew he was almost finished. As he neared his completion, he suddenly looked her in the eyes, and increased the pressure around her throat, cutting off her air completely, and making sure that he got to see the life leave her eyes. He came with a wild roar, pumping uncontrollably, just as her eyes rolled back into her head from lack of oxygen. And right before she passed out, Hermione heard the sweetest sound she could ever remember hearing. The distinct POP of apparition, three times, one after the other, and three horrified gasps, and then she drifted off into unconsciousness.
