"What took you so long, Mudblood?"

Hermione was immediately scolded on her return. She had already reckoned that Lucius Malfoy would not be pleased that it took her much longer than usual to get back here.

"Pardon me, Master, I encountered with Severus Snape outside. I had to quickly assist him, which delayed my task," she explained as humbly as she could. Uncertainly her gaze flickered to the black-haired man, but he did not appear to confirm or deny her statement.

Lucius Malfoy though did not seem to be interested in the subject, as with a bossy nod he ordered her to fill the glasses again.

She hastily complied with the order. As quickly as she could, Hermione filled the five wine glasses. Just as she was bending down to Macnair, she felt a big, rough hand on her bottom. She suppressed a tremor and tried hard not to spill the wine. She knew who was sitting behind her, she knew whose hand was kneading her cheeks. Quickly she straightened up again and wanted to go back to her place.

"Jesus, Granger. Can't you see Fenrir wants your company? Don't just turn away from him, silly thing!" her master shouted at her.

She stared at Lucius Malfoy in disbelief - hadn't he told her not to have sex with anyone? Uncertain, she looked back and forth between him and the werewolf.

"Come to me, fair maiden. I know your owner's rules and I will not break them. But a little company never hurt anyone. Come, I won't eat you up!" Greyback whispered, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

The gracious tone of voice only made Hermione even more fearful; she could clearly sense that there was something else lurking. And in addition, she was disgusted by the man's appearance and his stench.

"Do as you are ordered," Malfoy ordered in a stern, angry voice.

She instinctively understood where his anger came from. Clearly, he couldn't believe his slave dared to expose him like that in front of his colleagues. She noticed the grin of Macnair and Dolohov, even though they tried hard to hide it. Only Snape seemed untouched by it all.

Hermione had a dry lump in her throat as she walked towards the armchair where Greyback was sitting. Hesitantly, she looked down at him, but the werewolf knew exactly what he wanted. With a powerful jerk on her arm, he dropped the fragile woman into his lap and closed both arms around her waist.

"Hmm, that feels good," he murmured, only to say louder to Malfoy, "You were really lucky with this girl. She smells so good. Her body feels so warm. I've only ever had a stupid first-year girl."

"Come on, Fenrir," Dolohov teased him, "everyone knows that young girls are best. Or have you already broken your toy?"

Polyphonic laughter sounded, which sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. The idea of such a young girl in the hands of this bloodthirsty werewolf ... she didn't want to think about it.

"No, she's still alive. I'm having far too much fun with her. You know, it's really amazing with these young things. No matter how many times you fuck them, they're still so wonderfully tight. And her skin is so soft... so soft..."

The words of the unwashed man were lost as he obviously hung on to his thoughts and memories of his slave.

"I mustn't let these horrid images get to me, I mustn't let any of this get to me," Hermione admonished herself silently, but she knew that her imagination would show her ever new images of the werewolf and his young prey in the coming nights. How had this world suddenly become so completely black and hopeless? Unintentionally, a sobbing escaped her throat.

"Now, now, dear," Greyback cooed, "why cry? Come, let's see if we can't make you a little more comfortable!"

With these words the werewolf let go of her waist and began to explore her body. While the other men turned back to their conversation, he devoted himself entirely to her body. Slowly his hands moved down her thighs, then he grabbed her firmly and straightened her. She sat there, leg spread, her buttocks just above his hard cock, her back pressed against his chest, and looked down on herself in disbelief.

The man's rough hands pushed her dress higher and higher, first exposing her naked waist, then her belly, and then lifting it over her breasts. She could feel the werewolf rubbing against her with barely perceptible movements of his hips, increasing his own excitement more and more. One hand now grabbed her breast, the other clawed into the flesh of her thighs.

"Well?" he groaned, "Do you like that better?"

Nausea rose in Hermione. This monster didn't seriously expect her to enjoy that, did he? Instead of an answer, she pressed her lips together so as not to sob out loud. The lump in her throat grew bigger and bigger and she felt her stomach getting ice-cold.

"Come on, little one," whispered the werewolf, "give me a little moan. Every woman enjoys being touched like that!"

Disgusted, Hermione shook her head. She wanted to leave. She wanted to be alone, away from these men, away from all men.

A gasping sound escaped her, when suddenly she felt his teeth at her neck. Instinctively, she wanted to lean away, but the man was faster. The hand that had just groped her breast reached into her hair, holding her head and neck where he wanted it. While his tongue, lips, and teeth moved across her neck and throat, his other hand found its way between her legs. Without penetrating, he stroked her folds, obviously eager to get a reaction from her.

The movements of his hip also became more erratic. He pressed himself hard against her, rubbing against her. An aroused groan escaped him. He let go of her throat, his hand released her hair and instead grabbed her slightly protruding hip bone. Now it was the other hand that pushed up her bra and kneaded her bare breasts. He rubbed himself against her more and more violently, the hand on her hip pressing Hermione harder and harder against him, making her bottom circle back and forth a little.

"Ah, I like you so much," the werewolf moaned. His movements became more jerky, the hand on her breast had stopped moving, too strong was his concentration on her bottom.

"Fuck!" he gasped, "Lucius!"

With a raised eyebrow, Malfoy turned to his guest. Out of the corners of his eyes he watched the werewolf arouse himself more and more over the body of the mudblood.

"Yes, Fenrir?" he asked, his tone betraying amusement.

Without interrupting his rubbing movement, the werewolf looked at the owner of the slave girl in his lap. "How much did you say you wanted for her first time?"

Suddenly, the room became dead silent. The other three Death Eaters, who previously pretended not to be interested in what was happening next to them, turned their heads to the werewolf and the more naked than covered woman.

"No!" Hermione yelled in her mind, "not him! Please, not him!"

But she knew already that her mute pleading was useless. Lucius Malfoy had forbidden her to have sex because he wanted to sell her first time at a high price - and if the werewolf paid, he would give it away. The nausea, which had been manifest before, grew worse. Fear, like Hermione had never felt before, crept up inside her.

The hard cock under her, the cramped hand on her breast, the excited moans next to her ear - suddenly she became aware of her situation. It was as if she woke up from a dream. Panic clasped her heart.

Harry was dead.

Ron was a slave like her.

And these men had all the power in the world over her. She could no longer control what happened to her body. She was humiliated by the sheer power of it. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over her and then thrown her into a stinking cesspool where she would now drown.

In her state of shock, she had not noticed the brief discussion between the Death Eaters. While Dolohov and Macnair supported the werewolf in buying sex, Snape and Malfoy were rather disgusted.

"You really want to fuck a mudblood, Greyback?" Snape asked with a sceptical look.

"Yes, damn it!" the werewolf cried desperately, "she's so hot. I don't care what blood flows in her veins. I want her! Now!"

Moaning and panting he continued to rub against Hermine. Both hands had grabbed her hips by now, moving them in a rhythm with his pelvis.

Lucius Malfoy recognized the plight of his colleague. No matter what amount he now called, the werewolf would probably pay it - he was rich enough by now. It was his chance to get money to pay off old debts. And yet something inside him resisted the deal. The virginity of Hermione Granger - sold to a sleazy werewolf? After all, she wasn't just anyone.

Maybe he should sell her to someone else, someone of rank, for little money, and get a favour instead? He himself was still at the bottom of the barrel at the moment, for the Dark Lord had not yet completely forgiven him. Surely there were enough Death Eaters out there who would want to fuck Potter's famous girlfriend. Yes, it was clearly too soon for that.

Then again, she was a mudblood. Who knew if any Death Eaters would ever be interested in her again? Potter's girlfriend or not, the blood was repulsive to most he knew.

He looked at the two. He watched how the werewolf rubbed against his slave in desperate agitation, how his hands clung to her hips, how her breasts swayed a little with each jerk, how her head had fallen backwards, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face. He saw that she was pale, that she was trembling. The werewolf, on the other hand, had a reddened face, his breath was short, sweat covered his skin. Again, Malfoy's gaze wandered to where the man's covered cock met the woman's arse.

And suddenly he noticed how his trousers became very tight and registered that his own breathing accelerated.