Malfoy Manor - 25th Dec, 8 PM Evening, Hermione's Home
When the spinning stopped, Hermione found herself hanging upside down, her arms and legs bound tightly by enchanted cords. Her hair fell in wild tangles, obscuring her view of her surroundings. The cool dungeon air clung to her exposed skin, making her hyper-aware of the precarious hold of the towel draped loosely around her body. The oppressive grandeur of the room left no doubt where she was: Malfoy Manor.
A slow clap echoed through the hall, and she twisted her head painfully to see Draco Malfoy stepping into the light.
"Enjoy your massage, Granger?" Draco Malfoy stepped into her line of sight, his smirk as sharp as ever. "Consider it my Christmas gift to you. After all, it's the season of giving, isn't it?"
Hermione's heart sank, dread pooling in her stomach as she struggled against her bonds. Draco took a step closer, his smirk widening. He stepped into the dim torchlight, his pale face illuminated with cruel amusement. His eyes scanned her dangling form, lingering on the droplets of water glistening on her bare skin.
"Mr. Hernandes was going to receive a generous tip given it is Christmas. However, I think it won't be enough for the good job he has done with you. You're practically glowing, Granger. Loose, languid, utterly defenseless." He took a step closer, his boots echoing ominously against the stone. "A pity his good work will be undone by morning."
Hermione stirred faintly, her head lolling to the side as she struggled to process his words. Her hair, damp and disheveled, framed her face in a wild, chaotic halo.
Draco reached out, gripping a handful of her hair and yanking her head back sharply. The motion forced a gasp from her lips, her half-lidded eyes fluttering open to meet his.
"Still with me?" he asked mockingly, his grip tightening. "Good. I'd hate for you to miss this."
His free hand traced the edge of the towel, his fingers brushing against her slick skin with cruel precision. "You won't be needing this tonight," he said, yanking the towel away with a flourish. It fluttered to the floor, leaving her utterly exposed.
Hermione's breath hitched, a flicker of humiliation sparking in her dulled eyes. "D-Draco..." she murmured, her voice weak and barely coherent.
He tilted his head, mockery etched into every line of his face. "Draco? That's all you can muster? How disappointing, Granger. I expected more fight."
With a flick of his wand, the chains shifted, lowering her just enough for her toes to scrape the cold stone floor. Her body trembled, the combination of lingering relaxation and creeping panic rendering her utterly powerless.
Draco circled her like a predator, his gaze drinking in every twitch, every shallow breath. "You're beautifully undone," he murmured, his voice almost reverent. "Let's see if we can push you a little further."
He uncoiled the whip at his side, the sound of the leather dragging against itself sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. She blinked sluggishly, her mind catching up to the implications far too late.
The first strike landed across her back with a sharp crack, the pain slicing through the haze like a lightning bolt. Hermione cried out, the sound raw and jagged as her body arched against the chains.
Draco smirked, stepping closer to examine the welt blooming across her skin. "Still feeling, I see," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He ran his hand over the mark, his touch cruelly gentle. "Pain cuts through the fog, doesn't it? Makes everything so much clearer."
Another lash followed, this time across her thighs, eliciting a strangled cry from her lips. Her hair fell across her face as she writhed, the damp strands sticking to her sweat-slicked skin.
Draco seized her hair again, yanking her head back with enough force to draw a gasp. "Don't hide from me," he hissed, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "I want to see every ounce of your suffering."
He delivered another strike, this time letting the whip curl around her abdomen. Hermione's cry broke into a sob, her tears spilling freely now as the pain overwhelmed her.
Draco leaned in, his hand snaking into her hair to pull her head up. "What's the matter, Granger?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Is the war heroine finally breaking?"
Hermione's lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper. "S-stop..."
"Stop?" Draco repeated, feigning surprise. "Why would I stop when you're just starting to unravel so beautifully?"
He released her hair, letting her head drop forward as he stepped back. "No, Granger," he said, his voice cold and final. "We're just getting started."
This time, he abandoned the whip, his hand cracking sharply across her cheek. The sound echoed in the dungeon, the sting sharp and immediate. Hermione's head snapped to the side, a low moan escaping her lips.
Draco grasped her chin, forcing her to face him once more. Her glassy, tear-filled eyes met his, the faintest spark of defiance still lingering within them.
"Still clinging to that Gryffindor bravery?" he sneered, his grip bruising. "Let's see how long that lasts."
He struck again, his hand trailing down to the welt on her abdomen. His fingers pressed into the tender flesh, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Hermione.
"Every mark tells a story," he murmured, his tone almost contemplative. "And by morning, your body will be a masterpiece."
He released her abruptly, the chains jerking her upright once more. Her body sagged, trembling and broken, but her eyes still held that stubborn flicker.
Draco's smirk widened as he stepped back, coiling the whip with practiced ease. "You're more resilient than I expected," he admitted. "We will continue tomorrow but don't worry. By the time I'm done, you'll be begging me to break you."
With a final flick of his wand, the dungeon plunged into darkness, leaving Hermione suspended in silence, her body trembling and her spirit teetering on the edge.
(Malfoy Manor, 26th December, Morning)
Hermione dangled upside down, completely exposed, her naked form swinging slowly in the cold dungeon air. The ropes that bound her ankles dug into her skin, leaving angry red marks as she twisted helplessly, blood rushing to her head. Her body trembled, every muscle aching from the prolonged torment, and her breaths came in ragged, broken gasps. Her mind was scattered, reeling from the pain that had already been inflicted on her, but a deeper fear gripped her heart—the knowledge that Draco was far from finished.
Draco stood in front of her, his face illuminated by the dim torchlight, a wicked glint in his eyes as he surveyed his work. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he watched her, a predator toying with his prey. His wand rested in his hand, a simple object yet the source of her agony. He had beaten her down physically, but what he wanted was more than just her body—he wanted her will broken, her spirit shattered, until there was nothing left of the girl who had once defied him.
"You always were stubborn, Granger," Draco sneered, pacing slowly around her dangling form. "Even now, look at you. Still clinging to some pathetic hope, aren't you? Thinking maybe, just maybe, you'll find a way out of this." His voice was a dark mockery, each word driving home the hopelessness of her situation.
Hermione whimpered, the sound barely escaping her throat, "And you are still nothing, but a coward." Her arms hung limply, her body swaying with each small movement he made. The pain had become a constant, throbbing presence, and her vision swam, the room spinning around her. But still, she fought to hold onto the last shred of dignity she had left, even as her body betrayed her, tears slipping down her cheeks, unbidden.
Draco's voice dropped lower, his words cutting through the haze of her suffering. "you don't understand yet, do you? This is no escape. I'm going to break you, Granger. Piece by piece. Until there's nothing left but my slave."
He raised his wand, and with a flick, a lash of magic struck her across her soft folds. The sharp crack echoed in the dungeon, and Hermione screamed animistically, her body convulsing as the pain ripped through her. Her skin burned where the magic had struck, a thin, red welt blooming on her already bruised flesh. Draco watched her reaction with a cold, clinical detachment, like a scientist observing an experiment.
Another flick of his wand, and this time the strike hit her thighs, the force of it making her swing slightly in the air. She cried out again, her voice hoarse, the sound barely more than a rasp. Her body jerked with every hit, her mind fracturing under the unrelenting assault.
"Beg," Draco commanded, his voice sharp, cutting through her torment. He stepped closer, his face inches from hers as she hung there, her body limp and trembling. "Beg for mercy, Granger."
Hermione's lips quivered, her pride warring with her desperation. She had been fighting so long, clinging to some small sliver of hope that she could withstand this, that she could find a way to survive without giving in. But Draco was methodical, cruel in his precision. Each strike was calculated, designed to wear her down bit by bit, until all she could do was yield.
"Please…" she whispered, her voice cracking. Draco's eyes narrowed, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. "Louder."
She flinched, her body tense with the anticipation of more pain. "Please… Draco… stop… I can't…" Her voice broke into sobs, the words tumbling out between gasps for air. "I'll do anything… just please…"
Draco's boot connected with her side, sending her swinging again as she let out a strangled cry. "You'll do anything?" he repeated, his tone mocking. He crouched down, grabbing her by the hair and jerking her head up to face him. "Say it properly."
Hermione's tears fell freely now, her will crumbling beneath the weight of his cruelty. "I'll… I'll do anything… Master." His smile deepened, dark and triumphant. "That's more like it."
With a swift motion, he dropped her from the ropes, letting her fall unceremoniously to the ground. Hermione crumpled into a heap, her limbs too weak to hold her up. Her body was a mass of bruises, her skin raw where his magic had lashed her, but none of that compared to the humiliation of what came next.
Crawling on her hands and knees, Hermione reached for Draco's boots. Her fingers shook as she grasped the leather, pulling herself closer, her face pressed against the ground in a pitiful display of submission. She felt his gaze on her, cold and calculating, as she kissed the tip of his boot, her mind blank with shame. But Draco wasn't satisfied. He pressed his boot against her head, forcing her face into the stone floor. "You call this begging?" he snarled, grinding her face into the dirt. Hermione whimpered, her body trembling beneath him. "Please… Master… I'll be yours… just… just stop…"
Draco's laughter was dark, filled with malice. He lifted his boot, allowing her to breathe again, but the damage was done. She had nothing left. She was broken. Draco crouched beside her, his hand gripping her hair once more, pulling her head up sharply. "Offer yourself to me properly, slave."
Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of her submission crushing any last remnants of resistance. Slowly, she lifted her head, her long, wild hair falling in waves over her shoulders, the dark strands tumbling loose around her naked body. She began to gather her hair, her fingers trembling as she knotted the strands together. It was a symbol of her complete and utter defeat, the final act of surrender to the man who had stripped her of everything. She lifted the thick bundle of hair toward him, her hands shaking as she offered it up, her eyes downcast in shame.
Draco took the hair from her, his grip tight as he yanked her head back. Forcing her on her knees by hair, he sneered, "What a mess are your hair? But don't worry, I will take care of them, just like you." He added with a sadistic gleam in his eyes and produced a small, wickedly sharp dagger from his robes. The blade gleamed in the dim light, etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with dark magic - her tears reflecting off the blade.
He released her hair with a harsh shove, letting her head fall forward. Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a thin, gleaming dagger.. Hermione's breath quickened as she watched him approach, her chest heaving despite her exhaustion. Draco grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her arm taut behind her back. Hold still," he hissed, pressing the dagger's point against her palm. Hermione cried out as he cut into her flesh, the crimson line blooming instantly against her pale skin. He held her hand firmly, letting the blood drip onto the floor before slashing his own palm and mingling their blood together. "
What are you—" Hermione's voice faltered, her words dissolving into a gasp as Draco pressed their joined hands against her scalp. "Binding you, Granger," he whispered, his tone venomous and cold. "Mind, body, and soul. You'll feel me in every part of you, every moment of every day. And there will be no escape." He began murmuring an incantation in low, guttural tones, his wand aimed at the blood now soaking her hair. The blood darkened unnaturally, spreading like tendrils across her scalp and weaving through her curls.
The moment the blood soaked into the strands, tendrils of dark magic began to coil around her body, snaking up her legs, wrapping around her waist, binding her breasts. Each tendril pulsed with power, the ancient runes etched into the air around her, glowing ominously as Draco continued the incantation.
The tendrils crawled higher, wrapping around her throat, her wrists, her ankles—tightening with each passing second. Hermione gasped as the magic took hold, the sensation of being bound both terrifying and exhilarating. She was trapped, completely at his mercy, and the realization of her utter helplessness sent a shiver down her spine. Draco stepped back, admiring his work with a satisfied sneer. "Perfect," he murmured, reaching out to grab her hair again. The strands felt different now—softer, smoother, and unnervingly compliant.
But Draco wasn't finished. He knelt beside her once more, his hand gripping her blood-soaked hair. With a cruel twist, he yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You belong to me," he hissed, his voice filled with dark satisfaction.
Hermione whimpered, her body trembling as the tendrils wrapped tighter, binding her in place. She was his—body and soul.
Draco's hand tightened in her hair, and with one final, brutal pull, he yanked her off the ground, her body dangling in the air like a marionette, her limbs limp, her will utterly shattered.
The tendrils surged with power, their final resting places locking into her most intimate parts—her neck, her breasts, her clit, her knees, her wrists, and ankles. The last of the magic seared into her skin, sealing the bond between them. Hermione gasped as a shock of electricity coursed through her body, her nerves alight with the intensity of the binding.
Draco smirked, watching her dangle before him, her body trembling in the air, utterly defeated. He yanked her hair once more, the tendrils tightening around her in response, sending another wave of painful shocks through her most sensitive places. Her screams died in her throat as her juices leaked prematurely. Her pussy quivered with the quick alternating pulses which left her in a frenzy state of pain and pleasure.
"You're mine," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. Hermione's tears streaked down her face, her lips trembling as she tried to form words. "You—" she choked out, her voice a mixture of fury and despair. "You'll… regret this…".
Draco laughed, the sound cold and cutting. "Oh, I doubt that." He released her hold and let her fall uncushioned. Famished and broken by everything that had happened, Hermione cried out in despair as her body struggled with the tendril binding. Everytime, she tried to rise, the tendrils dropped anchor riddling her nerves with inexplicable agony. Draco kept laughing at her misery. He forced her on her back and pinned her under his boot. Hermione whimpered as Draco pressed the tip of his polished boot against her side, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. He leaned forward, his weight shifting, and slowly increased the pressure. Her bound body convulsed as the pain radiated through her ribs, her sobs becoming strangled cries.
"Did you think you could hide your weakness forever, Granger?" he taunted, his voice sharp and cruel. "Did you think your clever little spells and books would protect you? How does it feel to be utterly powerless? To have everything you are—everything you've fought for—crushed beneath me?"
With deliberate cruelty, Draco moved his foot to her stomach, grinding his heel down as she writhed beneath him. Her muffled cries echoed in the cold, empty chamber. Satisfied with her anguish, he shifted again, placing his boot against her shoulder, forcing her further into the floor.
"Still think you're above me?" he asked, his voice laced with venom. "Because from where I stand, you're nothing more than dirt."
Hermione tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse and broken, barely more than a whisper. "P-please… stop…"
Draco scoffed, bending down to grab a fistful of her tangled hair. He yanked her head back sharply, eliciting a scream of pain as tears streamed freely down her face. "Stop?" he echoed mockingly. "No, Granger. You don't get to decide when this stops."
Her hair was knotted and matted, the result of countless hours of neglect under his captivity. He ran his fingers through the mess, only to tug cruelly, forcing her head to tilt at an unnatural angle. Hermione's cries turned into choked sobs as the sharp pain shot through her scalp.
"Such a mess," he murmured with feigned pity, twisting a handful of her hair around his fingers. "You used to pride yourself on being so put together, didn't you? Always perfect, always in control. And now? You can't even manage this."
He gave another sharp yank, dragging her forward until she was sprawled beneath him. Her body was trembling violently, her bound limbs unable to shield her from his assault. Draco's boot came down again, this time on her back, pinning her to the ground with merciless force.
"You should be grateful," he continued, his tone mockingly light. "This—this is education. Appreciation. A lesson in history, since you're so fond of cherry-picking it when it suits you. These bindings? They're not just punishment. They're tradition, an art form perfected over centuries. The Japanese called it shibari. Did you know that?"
Hermione tried to shake her head, but his grip on her hair was unyielding. "It's about control," Draco went on, his voice soft but menacing. "Discipline. Submission. It's about taking something strong and reducing it to something beautiful. Something weak. Something pliant."
With one final, brutal yank, he pulled her head back until she was forced to meet his cold, unrelenting gaze. "That's what you are now, Granger. A masterpiece of brokenness. And every knot, every bond, is a reminder of who owns you."
He released her suddenly, letting her collapse back onto the floor with a pitiful cry. His boot pressed down on her back one last time, grinding her further into the cold, unyielding marble.
"Stay there," he commanded icily, stepping back. "And think about this, Granger. Think about how far you've fallen. How much further you can still fall. I will return later."
Hermione lay motionless, her sobs the only sound in the oppressive silence of the chamber. Draco turned, his cold laughter echoing as he left her bound and broken on the floor, a silent testament to his cruelty. Hermione knew that her fate was sealed—she was bound to Draco, her body, her soul, her very essence locked in servitude to him for all eternity.