Hey. This is my submission from the recent Harry Potter kink-n-squick livejournal fest. The prompt was for a Psychic Empathy character:
Kink/squick: Doctor Dolittle syndrome - attracts animals/magical creatures
Prompt: He/she can hear & speak to animals. Sometimes, he/she even feels their happiness and pain.
And I feel I should warn for: dub-con, mild gore, and ooc.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Shout out to Sha01001 of kink-n-squick for the help with the beta. Enjoy!
.:.
'Hermione.'
Hermione Granger was having a very bad day. In fact, this was rapidly deteriorating into one of the worst days of her life.
It was her own fault, really, for actually caring. Even Harry told her she had too big of a heart – but she supposed that had more to do with the fact that lessening the plight of magical creatures hadn't been on his to-do-list for the last ten years. He had a bleeding heart as well, but she was the dupe. She was the one who just had to do something about everything.
That was how she'd gotten into her current predicament, how she'd sunk so low.
She raised her wand, casting a levitation spell on the half-eaten bodies she'd found on the edge of the forest. The ravine below her looked as freezing cold as she felt – in the season of death, this area turned into a winter wonderland for the local scavengers and predators. She could hear them scampering about, eager for her to be done. At least they could argue their survival instincts as an excuse. She had none.
In her haste to secure the legal rights for magical creatures everywhere, she'd stumbled upon an old enchantment that would allow her to understand the cacophony that was the languages of said creatures. The charm's effect reminded her of the character of Doctor Dolittle in that Muggle story (minus the parrot), and Hermione found herself entranced. She could see all her dreams coming true with a single spell, and set about researching and perfecting it.
'I need you.'
Hermione faltered at the familiar drawl in her mind.
Several weeks ago, during her first round of testing the charm on herself outside her private lab, she'd encountered what had at first seemed like a normal snow leopard. Except that this was not a normal sight in these parts. This endangered animal was far from home, and so her bleeding heart had reached out to him, only to discover that he was not your garden variety wild cat. He wasn't even a normal, magical panthera uncia, though he was clearly the epitome of the atypical top predator of his territory, like snow leopards were apt to be.
The animals in this region seemed to both respect, and fear him.
A squawk caught her attention, snapping her out of her trip down memory lane, and she smiled instinctively, looking up at the hawk flying above the trees nearby. She was never going to get used to knowing what those squawks meant. The wind at her back shifted, pushing into her harshly as she continued to lower the bodies magically into the ravine; this used to be a mining settlement years ago, but had been reclaimed by nature after a vicious storm. She knew this, from the locals. Animals were far more forthcoming than humans when giving information.
She shivered, a light, cold trickle tickling her cheek.
Snow. It was snowing again. It had been snowing more and more here, ever since she'd found the snow leopard. Mesmerised, Hermione held out a gloved hand to catch a falling snowflake. It reminded her of her most recent charge.
All snowflakes were unique – like human fingerprints. They didn't have a standard template either; water and air molecules zipped about, bouncing off of each other randomly as their atomic attraction drew them together, and settled into order, creating a unique, randomly shaped snowflake. The formation of the six-fold symmetry of a snowflake crystal was almost as beautiful as...
Hermione shook her head roughly, before those thoughts could go any further. No matter what he told her, she had no intention of developing an attachment to the animal. She had no idea why she thought of the complexities of a snowflake when she thought of him.
'Hermione, please.'
There was that voice she loved so much, again.
Hermione focused her thoughts, lowering her eyes; she watched in weird fascination at the tainted snow several hundred feet below her feet. Blood did that. They were dead, and so blood no longer pumped through their bodies, but they were already covered in it. It seeped into the white of the snow, poisoning it. She couldn't get over how hypnotising it was – how could it mesmerise, and disgust her at the same time?
'I'm waiting.'
She needed to get back.
Hermione looked northward from her position, imagining she could see the single cabin that sat upon a small, frosty hill in the middle of the woods from here. He wasn't going to wait forever. But she felt herself torn, as always, about whether or not to make him wait.
He had told her that because she could understand him in animal form, they were meant to be together. She'd responded by telling him about her experiments, but he'd taken it with a grain of salt. She was his. He was hers. And despite everything, it didn't really bother her that he'd staked his claim on her so aggressively.
But what else could she do? He would have died without her. She'd gotten herself into this mess, and had no idea how to rectify it. She wasn't ashamed to admit – if only to herself – that he scared her, though. She loved him. She lusted after him. But he scared her shitless. Even when he was human, he was an animal, and he was slowing giving into the primal part of him.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Hermione glanced again at the faces of the Muggles in the ditch that he'd killed. But what did her happiness compare, to their lives? Even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer, and she felt her heart break at the realisation of what she had to do next.
She had to stop him.
.:.
'Hermione.'
They said he'd gone mad and fled the magical world. That something had snapped inside of him after the war, and that he wasn't human any more. Draco Malfoy had disappeared soon after his parents' brutal murders, and hadn't been seen since.
Until now.
Her resolve wavered the moment she saw him. He wasn't waiting for her inside the cabin, beside the hearth, in human form and eager to make love again, like the last time. He was standing, on all fours, on the porch, and staring her down. He looked so feral, with dried blood on his snout and paws; his appearance might have given her cause to attack him immediately, but that glint in his dark eyes wasn't anger or hunger – it was fear. His long, powerful body tensed, and poised to attack or defend, depending on how she responded to his posturing.
Had he lost himself so completely to the beast, already? There were so few documented cases in history, but it had happened to Animagi in the past, when the wizard or witch in question experienced an emotional upheaval during a transformation, and just gave up their humanity. It was easier to explain away with Muggle psychology – the Wizarding World didn't want to know about a broken psyche. If you were insane, society left you to your own devices, as long as you didn't go on a mass murdering rampage.
Hermione had worked with Draco for days after realising who he was, trying to get him to transform back; in human form, his first act had been to grunt her name as he took her, hard and fast on the cabin floor. Their conversations afterward were difficult, as he'd stopped referring to himself by his real name, but her mere presence seemed to calm his anger.
Mostly.
Instinctively, Hermione held out her wand and aimed it at the snow leopard in front of her. Once, in his human form, he'd given her permission to stun him if she ever felt threatened. In his Animagus form, he was less accepting of this, but he knew what would happen if he pushed her.
"Draco?"
Her wand hand shook and she fought the tremble attacking her body. She couldn't show any weakness – no matter the animal she was dealing with, it would not end well. Because this was not a children's story of a man who was so unsympathetic to human society that he conjured up fantasy stories about talking with animals. This was real, and Draco Malfoy was dangerous.
"Please, Draco, say something."
'Mine.'
"Yes," she said, glad he'd responded immediately. He watched her closely, though.
Hermione moved toward him, keeping her wand trained on him. He backed off slowly, his eyes now on the small piece of wood between her fingers like he was expecting it to jump to life all on its own and attack him. She often wondered if he thought (in this form) if the wand had a mind of its own.
'Not hurt.'
Hermione shook her head, but didn't say anything.
Draco stopped moving a foot away from the hearth, forcing her to cease her advance. She stared into those familiar, grey eyes. Even in Animagus form he kept those damn eyes.
"I saw your kills," she said.
Hermione could've sworn he'd smirked for a moment before lifting his head challengingly at her. He was waiting for her to admonish him – goading her, in his own, obnoxious way, to provoke him. She fought back the sob as she remembered the faces of the people he'd killed. Snow leopards weren't naturally aggressive toward humans, so the fact that Draco had done this, terrified her. But what scared her more was that she still wanted him.
"A family," she said softly.
Draco groaned and shifted his body in response; the snow leopard inside of him seemed to submitting physically to something. A realisation, perhaps? Did it bother him that he'd killed people? Normally, he only killed animals, because he needed them to survive. But the Muggles hadn't been eaten, just mauled, and she wondered why he'd targeted them.
"Did you kill the Muggles, Draco?"
He let out a growl; deep and resounding, it was a warning that she was pushing her luck. Stupid question.
"Please," she said, her voice slightly begging. "Turn back, Draco."
'My Hermione.'
"Y-yes."
He was on her in an instant, pushing her roughly to the floor; her back hit the thick rug in front of the fire, but it still hurt. Her wand remained in her hand – he'd called her bluff. No matter what, she couldn't bring herself to hurt him.
'Now.'
His body stretched, then shifted; the crackle of magic sizzled in the air around them, affording her mere seconds of warning before the large, lithe beast transformed on top of her. Over two hundred centimetres from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, and one hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle, he could easily crush her if he wanted to. But instead, he forced his magic to twist and morph his body; the sound of bones cracking no longer made her flinch.
Draco looked down at her as his body settled into its natural form; those eyes didn't change at all. The stormy, grey irises pierced brown, and he stared hard at her, the darkening of his eyes hinting to the uncontrollable lust within. He didn't even blink.
And she became acutely aware that he was naked.
Draco groaned, his arms wrapping around her body as he buried his face in her chest. "I've been waiting for you."
Hermione awkwardly hugged him back, but before she could ask him to get off of her, he was ripping at her clothes; his fingernails dug into the thick coat she'd worn for the snowy weather outside, and tore into it easily. He growled loudly as she yelped in surprise, ignoring her obvious discomfort.
Draco continued down her body, pausing only momentarily to lick the marks his fingernails had accidentally made along her skin, as he kept ripping and slashing at her clothes. He pulled her toward him, along the thick rug, quickly rolled her over, and lifted her body to lean forward on all fours. She looked back at him, her eyes wide, as he hooked her right leg up and over his hip.
"Draco, w-wait..." She knew better than to try to stop him once he got started, but she couldn't help herself. She was human, not an animal. She needed stimulation. She needed preparation. But he seemed intent on fucking her as soon as possible.
Hermione had only a moment to realise their position was reminiscent of those nature documentaries on wild animal mating habits, when he suddenly pushed into her. He was inside her with one powerful thrust, burying himself as deeply as he could in one go. She couldn't stop the scream that tore out of her then. It was answered with a howl from her mate as he gripped her hips roughly. She wasn't ready to receive him, and the sheer force of his first thrust had pushed her to her stomach. He wasn't letting her back up any time soon.
It was a full minute before the stinging from being so unprepared was completely gone and she was pushing back into him, finally enjoying the sensations rippling through her body as he kept up his assault. He was so powerfully built, almost animalistic even in human form, that every time they did this, she knew to brace herself for the long haul. He didn't even slow, not for an instant. And he had no intention of stopping before he absolutely had to. The relentless pounding was almost inhuman. She'd never felt anything like him inside of her.
All she could realistically do was bury her screams in the thick rug underneath her, and claw at the imported, antique Persian Rug. She lost count of how many times her body trembled uncontrollably under his assault.
Finally, his human mind must have realised what he'd been doing to her, and his fingers found her sensitive spot, rubbing at her gently to start her downward spiral into that explosive chain of hot, white euphoria. His ministrations quickened and she cried out, moaning his name as a mantra.
Hermione let out another gasp as Draco pulled on her body suddenly, indicating to her to rise back up to her knees. His fingers now travelled along the length of the underside of her body, tracing her shape and form, and cupping and squeezing her breasts. His thrusts continued as he eventually pushed her down again, now covering her back with his body as much as he could in this position, and latching his mouth onto her shoulder before biting down, hard.
Hermione almost sprained her neck as she spun her head to glare at him. Those dark, stormy eyes twinkled in mischief as he stared back at her. He was well aware that had pissed her off.
"Fuck." She groaned, and he chuckled. It felt like he'd broken the skin.
He started to slow down, now rotating his hips in an almost languid motion, and he let out a breathy moan on the back of her neck. When Draco came suddenly and violently inside her, riding out the last few thrusts, his hands were gripping her arse again and dug into her skin painfully.
Silence.
For a few minutes, Hermione listened as his breathing slowed, and then he finally rolled off of her.
The shock set in and she shifted to move away from him. Draco pulled her toward him possessively, cocooning her body with his, and nuzzling the back of her neck. She ached all over, but no place more thoroughly than in between her legs. The soreness overwhelmed her as she realised just how exhausted she was.
He needed to stop doing this, but she would rage at him later.
Hermione was just closing her tired eyes when something wet and cold settled on her cheek with the weight of a feather.
Was there a hole in the roof?
She reached out a hand to catch another snowflake as it fell slowly, toward her. It didn't disperse on impact and she stared at it, sighing. It really was one of a kind. Like the man now holding onto her for dear life.
Man.
Hermione brushed away the snowflake, and turned in Draco's possessive grip to study him. She still needed to do something about his attack on that Muggle family, but other than abandoning her own life and living out here, in the wild, she wasn't sure what to do. When it came down to it, she valued his life more than theirs. They may have been people once, but they weren't Draco.
She understood the implications of her thoughts, but didn't want to dwell on it.
Hermione snuggled further into him, and closed her eyes. She would figure it all out later, after she'd talked to him about staying on a strict animal regimen only. She would also have to talk to him about this need he had to treat her like she was an animal too. As well as his instinct to tear her clothes up so thoroughly that not even magic could fix them. And this ridiculous notion he had that she stay cooped up in this cabin for the rest of her life. And his possessiveness. And his own, seemingly long standing, lack of desire to wear clothes.
It was going to be a long talk.
.:.
R&R