Notes:
Content Warning: Drunk/Alcohol use, non-con activity, implied non-con, Jr Death Eater Rave
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY, SCOTLAND; 1st OCTOBER 1977
The silver-and-green decorations with their house crest were hanging, and the students' celebrations in their post-match victory transformed the usually stoic and quiet space into what one would expect to find in an underground club. Seventh and sixth-year witches from the other houses were in various stages of undress as they entertained the gentleman of Slytherin.
Anyone younger than the sixth year wasn't permitted to indulge in the celebrations, meaning there were no witches in attendance aside from the entertainment.
Well, there was Alecto Carrow, but she wasn't a refined woman or even feminine as she sat at the poker table swindling whatever poor sods she'd convinced to join her in a game. The tall glass of firewhisky next to her seemed to be self-pouring, and a glance around told Regulus that was how everyone's glasses were charmed.
Naturally, the stocks of Ogden's they kept for their parties were things that would make every other house jealous if they knew, which was why it was such a well-kept secret. If Slughorn ever found out, the blubbering idiot would do his best to try to confiscate the alcohol to add to his stores.
Regulus's gaze flickered to the entrance, his nostrils flaring as he waited for his witch to return from her little girl's night with Pandora Malfoy. Though there was still an hour until curfew, Regulus was trying to decide if he wanted to wait for his little witch to come to him or if he was tired of waiting and ready to go on the hunt.
"You're being too obvious," Rabastan Lestrange purred, wrapping an arm around Regulus, not at all deterred by the sneer Regulus was directing toward the other wizard. "You've never shown more than a passing fancy beyond being able to stick your cock in any purebloods who aren't in the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
Regulus shrugged off his friend's touch and smoothed his robes. "Yes, well, that was before."
"Before you started drugging the entire house with that damn powder of yours to compell us to obey you?" Rabastan gestured to the haze of magic still lingering in the air from the morning dose Regulus had thrown on the logs before heading out to the pitch. "Yes, trust me, we've all noticed," Rab said. His eyes narrowed as they watched their dorm mates rubbing their hands over a pretty seventh-year girl from Hufflepuff, their gazes locked on each other as they used the girl as a pawn in their scheming.
"I should have put more in the fire after the game, convinced Rosier and Crouch to control themselves a little more," he murmured as Evan Rosier's hand slipped under the witch's skirt, pulling a pair of soaked panties down her legs. At the same time, Barty Crouch Jr's tongue darted out of his mouth like he was a snake tasting the air.
The blonde wizard sniffed the material, and Regulus rolled his eyes and turned away before he would have to witness the man's boyfriend becoming a possessed asshole. If either Evan or Barty did end up fucking the poor girl, the other would make all of their lives miserable for the next week until they'd fucked and made up again.
Turning his gaze back to the entrance, Regulus's grip tightened on his glass. His thoughts kept drifting to the way Sirius had been sitting so casually with his witch, an arm wrapped around her and pulling Hermione into his side. Sirius had seen the pendant around her neck. He knew what the necklace meant, and yet his brother still had to ignore their traditions and the oaths they had made as boys in the name of their family, to hold to their lineage, culture, and values above all else.
Glancing at the grandfather clock, Regulus wet his lips as a plan began to form. How easy would it be for him to slip into the Gryffindor dorms and slit his brother's throat? The laws stated he was well within his rights to end Sirius's life for the stunt he'd pulled earlier.
"What makes her special?" Rabastan asked, his eyes glazed from the firewhisky they'd been drinking, the effects of the alcohol taking hold. Even though they had started sneaking drinks from their father's stores when they were thirteen, neither had built up a tolerance for Ogden's.
It was somewhat infuriating.
Regulus turned his head, just in time to see Severus Snape passing by where he and Rabastian had taken up court, a few of the other boys coming to join them as they sat like royalty watching their kingdom.
The greasy-haired git had his shoulders hunched and his eyes were fixed on the floor, like he thought himself invisible. No one said anything to him anymore, not directly at least. Not since he'd taken his mark.
Regulus sneered, lips curling with disgust as the half-blood skulked past like the pathetic shadow of a wizard he'd once pretended to be. Rabastan followed Regulus's gaze, scoffing under his breath.
"Thinks he belongs now," Rab muttered, taking a sip of his firewhisky. "It's almost cute, like a stray mongrel who hasn't figured out it's not welcome."
Regulus hummed, swirling his drink, keeping his eyes on the man until he settled in a seating area with Mulciber.
"The Dark Lord has his uses for him, even with his filthy blood," Regulus replied, his eyes again going to the portrait hole. He could feel his cock beginning to stir as thoughts of what he would do if Hermione were late. Even better, what would he do if he had to break into Ravenclaw Tower and get his little witch?
Beside him, Rabastan chuckled, following his line of sight, as if the other wizard was reading his mind. "She's becoming a weakness," Rabastan commented, taking another drink. "Is she worth someone being able to exploit you?"
"She's not like the others," Regulus said, rolling his neck as he turned away from the dirty half-breed. "She doesn't simper like a dog in heat when she hears my name, like she's already made plans on how to spend every galleon my family has," Regulus replied, lifting his glass to his lips again just as Hermione stumbled into the common room. The dim lighting did make it difficult to see, but Regulus couldn't stop the smirk as he watched her eyes take in the sight before her.
Looking at the grandfather clock, he clicked his tongue; she'd made it just in time. If she'd made him go searching for her, she wouldn't have enjoyed it.
The disgust on her face had Regulus smirking, throwing back the remainder of his drink. "If you'll excuse me, I have a witch I'd like to give my attention to." While he kept his gaze fixed on his witch, Regulus could hear his friend's deep chuckle, a couple of Ravenclaws coming to look at getting to enjoy the Black heir and the youngest Lestrange.
Ignoring the other women, Regulus kept his focus on what was his. Nothing else could compare to her. No, Hermione Greengrass wasn't anything like any of the Sacred Twenty-Eight witches his mother had paraded in front of him his whole life. They were all boring, no fire, no fight in them. They would have lain down and spread their legs for him without question.
When he had seen her that day in the ministry, leaving the DMLE, she was walking between her parents with their solicitor. She had looked like an angel who had come to Earth just for him; there were no tears, no panic on her face. Just a quiet rage that was being held tight behind her eyes as they swept from the ministry, and Regulus had been hooked.
After that day, he'd begun to watch her, discreetly at first, exploring her birth records to check her lineage. The only daughter of Helen and Hector Greengrass, making her a pureblood Sacred Twenty-Eight princess. The lack of school records had made him suspicious, until he'd learned how she had been educated in Australia by her aunt. She'd sat and passed all of her O.W.L.s, with grades that made Regulus know she was special.
She had to be his.
It is evident from the way her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes darted over the room, indicating that she was not comfortable with the debauchery unfolding before her. When Hermione turned to retreat toward the girls' dormitory staircase, she found her way barred—the entrance sealed by an enchantment that shimmered faintly in the dim light.
A security measure of sorts. The older Slytherins had long used it to protect their younger housemates—at least that was how it had been framed. In truth, it served to lock the door on innocence, to keep those too young or naive from stumbling into a world they weren't yet meant to understand. And to trap those who had already crossed the invisible threshold.
The party was just getting started. Once the pixie dust was brought out, things would begin to change. The room would shift, the atmosphere of free expression would cease, and something more feral, more possessive would emerge. All those curious witches who had come to play were about to learn exactly what it meant to be owned. The cages were ready, and they were all animals to be used for the Slytherins' amusement.
They just didn't know it yet.
Hermione pushed against the barrier again, and when she found she couldn't get through to her rooms, she bolted.
Regulus drank down the firewhisky that had filled again, before tossing the glass in the fire, catching Hermione's attention just as she reached the exit. Her eyes were wide and furious as she slipped out the exit.
On the couch, Rab chuckled darkly, accepting the line of pixie dust being passed around. "Run, run as fast as you can," the sing-song chant had Regulus licking his lips, his cock straining.
Snorting the line of pixie dust, Regulus groaned as the drugs took hold of him, causing his blood to pulse through his body. His adrenaline pushed him without thought to chase after her. Turning him on the hunt.
Fuck, the last thing she should have done was run. But he wasn't going to tell her that.
The moment she'd left the room, she'd sealed her fate. There were no portraits in the dungeons. No nosy housemates. No meddling professors. Just the two of them and the endless stone maze of the Slytherin territory.
His boots echoed on the stone as he gave chase, drunk on firewhiskey and high on the pixie dust. His need to mark her and claim her in more ways, to show his fucking brother that she was his witch. That if he were to let his hands wander again, Regulus would come for him.
"You're not running from me, little witch," he said, almost laughing as he heard her retreating footsteps. Losing her way in the dungeon as the corridors shifted, locking her in. "You're running to me."
She was fast—quicker than he'd expected, but he knew the dungeons better. He knew the patterns of how they shifted and how to use the magic to his advantage. Tapping his wand against the cold stone, the lanterns went out, and opened the path to him.
"You're mine," he breathed as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his body, making sure she could feel what she'd done to him.
"Let. Go. Of. Me!" Hermione snarled, struggling against him, but it was useless. She needed to learn that she was his, and what that meant for her.
Dragging her into the nearest classroom, he kicked the door shut behind them, making the torches flare to life with a hiss, bathing the space in low, amber light. The moment he had her pressed against the wall, he let her go—only to push his body into hers, trapping her without ropes or spells, showing her the power he held over her.
"Mine," he murmured, brushing his nose along her jaw as she turned her head away from him, doing whatever she could to keep distance between them. "You should be scared."
"I'm not scared of you," she hissed, trying to jerk away again, but Regulus gripped her wrists, lifting them over her head with one hand.
"You need to learn your place, Hermione," he purred, breathing against her throat. "I know you're untouched. That no one has had you yet." He pressed his thigh between her legs, wanting to feel how drenched she was by this. To know that she was just as affected as he was.
Her breath hitched, and he broke. He was kissing her, his teeth grazing her lips, nipping hard enough to draw blood. Even though that was delicious, he had to taste the rest of her.
"This is meant to be, Hermione," he growled, dragging her away from the wall and tossing her carelessly on the table. "The moment I saw you at the ministry. I knew that you were mine. You have no idea how long I waited in Diagon Alley to finally meet you. You think that was a chance?"
Hermione squirmed in front of him, twisting as she tried to get out of his grasp, but he wasn't having any of it. Casting a silent incantation, Regulus restrained the witch, spreading her thighs wide with the tight bindings, her skirt keeping her core from his gaze.
Leaning against her, he let his cock press against her covered core, showing her exactly what she did to him. His mouth was greedy, demanding everything from her as his hands slid down her ribs, then lower, fingers splaying over her hip and bunching her skirt, causing the hem to rise.
"Regulus, please…don't…" she begged, making him feel feral.
His fingers slid down the front of her skirt, pressing between her thighs through the fabric. She was soaked through her knickers, and Regulus knew he needed more, but it wasn't time to take her. Not yet.
"I'll make you feel good," he promised, kissing the edge of her jaw. "When I finally take this cunt, I'll be your first and your last. I promise you, Hermione. You'll never get anyone else."
His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles through her clothing, causing Hermione to whimper. His fingers were damp from the cotton, and Regulus could feel his mouth watering at how she might taste.
Dropping to his knees, Regulus left the layer between them, not wanting to ruin her as he opened his mouth and sucked on her arousal through her cloth. She really had been sent from the Gods, just for him. Sucking and drinking her arousal, Regulus used his teeth against the fabric, desperate to rip it from her body, but he left it in place.
When he finally sank into her, it would only make it that much sweeter.
As her climax hit her and her body shook, Regulus licked, not wanting to let a single drop of her go to waste until her body went slack.
Standing upright, Regulus adjusted himself, smirking as he looked down at her flushed skin and her closed eyes. Transfiguring the table into a bed, Regulus shivered at the power of the claim he had over her.
She was him, and he was ready to make it permanent.
Notes:
And we have the inner workings of Regulus Black.