-1The Uneventful Story
By: Snowflake Imp
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. But I do own you. Now dance for me.
Warning: Extreme NC-17 scene here - NonCon and the like. Read at your own risk!
"I can't believe you live here," Harry whispered as they moved quickly in the deep of night.
"Lived, Potter," Draco retorted. "And you said that three times already. Enough."
Harry paused to motion for the five others behind them to scramble and get into position. When the two of them reached the front door, Harry turned to Draco and said, "Are you sure you want to do this without them?"
Draco pulled down his hood, his blond hair almost illuminating in the dark. "He has too much to answer for to leave it to them. He's my father."
Harry nodded. The main reason Draco came to the Order was because his father killed his mother in front of his eyes. He gripped his wand tightly. Harry knew Draco was more than capable of handling this mission but he couldn't help but worry.
Draco was acting more and more unhinged lately, displaying a crueler side that Harry had hoped was just a front. Reports were coming back that Draco was significantly more brutal and aggressive than necessary and was cause for some concern. Which was why he was relieved when Draco had asked him to be his second for this mission. That way he could keep an eye out for him.
"Hey," Draco suddenly said, breaking Harry out of his reverie.
He turned, facing his once nemesis. Draco's face was solemn, his gray eyes swirling like liquid mercury.
"If things go bad in there…leave."
"Don't be stupid!" Harry barked. "Like I could just leave!"
Usually Draco would respond just as heatedly, with even more insults coming out of his mouth. This time he didn't even respond to Harry's words, instead forcing him to look deep into his eyes.
"I mean it Harry. You can't stay."
Harry gulped. He wasn't sure if it was because Draco had said it with such force or if it was the first time he had heard him call him by his first name, but Harry found himself agreeing.
They opened the main doors together with their wands, blowing them opening. Draco figured the second they came even a few meters of the manor his father would be aware of it, so they might as well come in through the front door, deliberate and hard.
It was…anticlimactically. They were greeted by an empty entrance hall. A few lights were lit but otherwise, it appeared to be quiet and uninhabited.
"Well,shit!" Harry had to exclaim. He was expecting Lucius to be there, waiting for them with practiced ease, perhaps twirling his wand lazily with the trademark Malfoy smirk on his face.
"Yes, well…we must be early. I told you we should have eaten supper first," Draco muttered.
"Any idea where he might be then?"
"I'm guessing the study," he responded, already making his way up the stairs. "And wipe your feet. I'm inheriting this place after today, after all."
"I don't believe you'll be doing much of anything after today, my son," a sleek voice said from the top of the stairs.
"Father," Draco greeted, his face the very image of blank.
"And I see you've brought a friend. Truly Draco, I think this is only the second person you've brought home," Lucius said carefully, indeed twirling his wand in his two hands.
"Considering Blaise has gone into hiding, I'm afraid I had to make do with this one."
"Could we just get on with it?!" Harry burst out, raising his wand. Enough with the inane banter already.
The two Malfoys turned to him, their blond hair shaking simultaneously. "He really doesn't have a sense of decorum, does he?" the elder Malfoy asked, casting his cane aside.
"I'm afraid he has you there, Potter," Draco drawled. Harry quickly looked over to him. Despite the easy way he spoke, he could tell Draco was tensing, trying desperately to bottle his emotions up so that he could think clearly.
"No second, Lucius? A pity," Draco continued.
For the first time since their exchange, Lucius' perfect masked cracked slightly. "I needn't bother. Not for a worthless bloodtraitor," he spat.
"Funny how that should deserve your ire, yet the death of your wife proved to be nothing but an inconvenience for you," Draco growled back, finding his self-control slipping. His knuckles were white from the grip on his wand.
"She did not please our Lord so what choice did I have but to dispose of her? She was a mere sacrifice, Draco, if only you could see that." That was perhaps the closest Lucius would get to pleading for Draco to return to their side. Their infamous pride would not allow for more.
Draco snarled, raising his wand. Before he stepped forward, he gave Potter a quick glance. Harry nodded. He lowered his wand, indicating that as Draco's second, he would not attack unless Draco was down.
Lucius barked a laugh. "So you're actually going to stick with tradition for this, having him be your second? Oh Draco, what have they done to you over there?"
He couldn't believe his son would go down this righteous, moral, decent path of battle. But no matter, he would dead within a matter of moments. And then Potter would be his to present to the Dark Lord. Rather than reply, Draco let all pretenses that he was in control go. He was practically pulsating with crackling light.
His father narrowed his eyes. He shouted out a strange spell, one that Harry had never heard of before. Nothing seemed to have happened after Lucius cast the spell, but Harry had a sinking feeling about it. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't just waste time and risk him life for a defunct spell.
Rushing towards his father with frightening speed, Draco yelled out a blinding curse. Harry managed to avert his eyes in time but it was obvious Lucius would be too slow to shield himself. When the room dimmed, Harry wondered if it would really be over so simply.
Apparently not, since suddenly Draco flew across the room and smashed into the wall. Harry's foot moved toward him before he stopped.
"Stick to the plan," he chanted to himself, gritting his teeth. He hoped Draco knew what he was doing.
Draco hoped he did too. He coughed up a mouthful of blood. He drew in a shaky breath. Good. It appeared that his lungs were currently un-pierced. Well, he had a feeling his father would use that spell. Thankfully, luck was on his side.
For one, his father was the cockiest son of a bitch the world has ever known, which was a big bonus for Draco.
His father had incanted a very old, pureblooded spell. It was quite possibly one of the most powerful spells out there but it was also quite obscure. It was traditionally passed down in only the most aristocratic, pureblooded families, usually when the son became a father.
The spell was simple yet complex at the same time. It essentially made the spell-caster immune to his enemy's attacks but only if the enemy was a direct descendent. Draco could throw an unarmed Lucius the Killing Spell but the spell would just bounce off, harmlessly.
It was the Borgeis Spell.
Lucius was confident that Draco had no clue what had just happened, just as Draco was confident that Lucius would underestimate him. Little did he know, when he was younger, Draco had snuck into his father's study and accidentally stumbled upon a hidden, old tome that was passed down for generations. Within its crackled, brittle pages, Draco discovered a great family secret.
Since his father had no idea of his son's knowledge, he foolishly incanted the spell out loud for all to hear instead of before he revealed himself. Amidst the rubble, Draco managed to right himself. Soon, soon…his revenge would come. Strange, he thought he would be more angry, more enraged. But all he felt was the impending pleasure he would feel once he killed his father.
The one flaw with the spell was that it wouldn't recognize the energy patterns of any other wands, so if the spell-caster's enemy happen to have backup, he would have to deal with them the normal way.
Lucius smirked when he saw his useless son begin to run. His smirk quickly transformed into a frown. Why was his running to the side, towards Potter?
As Draco sped by, Harry managed to grasp the words that fell from his lips:
"Open a wound for me."
Harry responded with a feral grin. He lifted his wand yet again and quickly shouted, " Postulo mille!"
The spell of a thousand needles. Harry took grim satisfaction at the look of surprise on Lucius Malfoy's face. One thousand needles shot out from Harry's wand tip, spreading out into a wall before making their way to the intended target. Lucis barely managed a crude shield before a cascade of impossibly slim needles hit him. Each needle sliced his skin superficially, leaving behind a thin, red line in its wake. Not a very debilitating wound in itself, but multiply that wound by a thousand and it was enough to bring him to his knees.
Lucius cursed – the pain was worse than he anticipated. He hissed. He would need a few moments to recover, which could mean his ruthless son had the advantage.
Blast. His ruthless son indeed. His mistake was assuming his traitorous son took on the traits of those weak fools of the Light. He was really fooled there, thinking Draco was going to go through with fighting him one-on-one, with only Harry Potter as a second. He chuckled despite his wounds, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth. What a Slytherin thing to do, to fight dirty like that.
The heavy thud of Draco's approaching boots snapped his attention. Lucius managed to look up through narrowed eyes. Whatever he opened his mouth to say was quickly forgotten when Draco's wand was thrust in front of his face. Lucius' eyes crossed slightly at the close proximity of the tip.
A tense silence.
"Hesitation, my son?" he spat out. "I thought I taught you better."
"Oh no, I'm committed," Draco said easily, too easily. His voice was rich, like flowing, dark chocolate. "I'm just having difficulty deciding what kind of end you're going meet. So many choices, but only one body…"
This type of talking scared Harry to the bone. No matter what his father did to him, Harry believed that Draco wouldn't be this…cold, this calculating when it came to fighting him. Harry imagined they would fight in a blaze of glory and in the midst of battle, Draco would find a small opening and take it in that split second.
He didn't want to imagine Draco hovering over his obviously defeated father, toying with the notion of how much he wanted him to suffer.
"You don't have to do this, Draco" Harry said lowly. "We can always take him back, use him as a bargaining chip."
Harry's lips formed a thin line when Draco barked out a laugh.
"And what? Treat him with courtesy, as befitting a prisoner of war?!" he shouted, his whole body tense. "You fucking Lights with your damn decency – you'd give him a bed, you'd give him meals, you'd give him anything, wouldn't you! How is that any different than just letting him off right now?"
Draco refocused his gaze on his fallen father. His lips curled in a sneer. "No," he said quietly, almost to himself. "He's mine."
"Draco…," Lucius groaned. Maybe he could appeal to his son's softness. He must have some, shouldn't he? Or else why would he change sides in the first place? The boy practically worshipped him before he killed his mother.
Almost reverently, Draco moved his wand and gently wiped upward the thin trail of blood on Lucius' face. His eyes widened madly. And then he whispered:
Lucius' eyes clouded as he saw the blood on the tip of Draco's wand congeal, and then freeze. Oh gods, he really was his son – cruel and very, very imaginative. With his blood on the wand, the spell would focus on anything of the same matter and freeze it. All the blood running through Lucius Malfoy's veins would freeze, giving him a slow and agonizing death.
Harry didn't hear what spell Draco had cast but by the screaming of the usually collected elder Malfoy he knew it was something especially malicious. He turned his head to the side, his eyes shut tightly, his teeth clenched. Amidst Lucius' cries, he distinctly heard the sound of crackling.
When the spell finally reached its end, Lucius' body was rigid and sickeningly twisted. Draco looked down his nose at his finally dead father for a moment, his face cold and impassioned. Finally, he spat on him and kicked him hard with a crunch, turning him over faced-down.
"I'll see you in hell, old man."
Harry walked up to his partner and placed a hand on his shoulder. Despite everything, Draco must be suffering now.
Draco, with a swiftness Harry didn't expect, turned and swung an arm over his shoulders. "I can't believe it was that easy!" he said with disturbing exuberance. "We should be getting medals after this. Although to be fair, I should get the shinier one since I did all the work, don't you think?"
When Harry didn't respond, Draco merely shook his head good-naturedly and practically dragged him toward the inside of the house. "Fuck me, I could use a hot shower right about now. What say we clean this mess up, get back to HQ and let's go dancing."
As they made their way further into the manor, Harry noticed Draco's usual pale, gray eyes were significantly darker than he remembered.
Draco couldn't believe she could leave him when he so obviously needed her there with him.
Draco couldn't believe she could leave him when he so obviously needed her there with him. So he did the only natural thing.
He followed her.
Oh, he knew where she was going. It was the same place she went every week since a raid squadron had found them. And to top it off, she would always go with him.
Fucking Neville Longbottom.
Like he was worth even an iota of her time.
As he passed by the long hallways in St. Mungos, he could hear his footsteps bounce off the walls. What a pitiful place. Normally a place to heal and recover, during these times it was more like a comfortable place to die.
He took the lift to the fourth floor, where they treated spell damages and unliftable spells. Without much thought, his feet guided him to the room he knew the two would be and stopped in front of the wooden door. He opened it carefully to just a crack so as to not expose himself.
"…said they're the same as always," Hermione's hushed voice floated out the small opening of the door.
"Don't lose faith, Hermione," Neville said. "It'll turn out all right in the end."
Draco impassively listened to her strangled cry. "It's been too long, it's hopeless!" she said. "If only they had the funds to really look after my parents! Instead they're just rotting here."
A silence between them.
"Oh…oh, I'm sorry Neville. What am I saying, I didn't mean to – "
"No, it's okay. They're finally free," Neville said quietly, without malice. "Their condition was different than this – there's still hope for your parents."
"I-I know, it's just that…seeing them like this…they shouldn't be here in the first place!" Hermione cried, saying the same tortured words.
As Neville began to comfort her, Draco sunk into his memories. He remembered when he first was brought over to the Light and they had screamed at each other that dark night. He scoffed at her attempts to console him about his mother. One thing led to another and soon the two of them were red in the face, screaming at each other. And then it slipped out of her mouth, almost reluctantly.
At least he knew where his parents were, she had screamed. Draco had almost gone bug-eyed with rage at the thought that it should be comforting to know that his mother was dead and his father, the murderer, was knee deep in the enemy. But one look at her face and suddenly everything fell into place. Death Eaters had kidnapped her parents as a bargaining chip and the Light, despite their every covert power to try and find them, on the surface had refused to give into demands.
There were situations where death wasn't the most painful outcome, was what she had implied.
"My parents," she had said, her voice hoarse and reedy with despair, "could still be alive."
It had become a time where death was, perhaps, not so bad a fate.
It was strange. As Draco stood there, watching Hermione's back shake with suppressed sobs, it was like there was another him inside his own skin. He knew he should be feeling sympathy for her. He should be, because she meant everything to him, even if he never really showed it. In his mind, he knew that she needed to be comforted, to be taken care of.
But something wasn't right. He couldn't find it in him to feel pity. Instead, all he could think of was that hand on her shoulder. How that should be his hand. How he wanted to tear Neville's hand clean off him and burn her shoulder with the bluest of flames to remove his dirty mark off her.
He suddenly gasped, as if his heart skipped a few beats. Draco shook his head. What was he thinking? He quickly walked away and began heading back to headquarters. Something wasn't right with him.
Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it
Hermione knew better than to argue. She quickly shed herself of her clothes, leaving them in a soft pile on the wooden floor. She had long gotten over the embarrassment of her nakedness. Suddenly, but not so surprisingly, not anymore, he backhanded her across the face.
The force behind the hit was strong and Hermione was thankful the bed caught her fall, her feet dangling off the edge. Her cheek throbbed and burned. She whimpered, placing a cool hand on her face. Hermione looked up at him with large, tearful eyes. What had she done this time?
Draco felt no remorse. It was all her fault so he shouldn't feel any guilt.
"Did you like that, you slut?" he rumbled, his dark gray eyes blazing. "Did you like making me hit you?"
"I-I don't know what you mean…," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"You know exactly what I mean!" he shot back. "Pressing yourself all over Potter – why didn't you just fuck him in the hallway for everyone to see?!"
Hermione bowed her head down. It was no use telling him the truth. He never listened and would only get angrier. Harry had finally told Ginny about his feelings for Lavender. Even though they had broken up for a few months now, Harry had felt guilty having feelings for the blonde witch. What if Ginny became angry and never wanted to speak to him again? What if she didn't approve? Their fragile structure of friendship could be shattered – if Ginny hated Harry, Ron would have no choice but to distance himself. Then his whole family would have to. Then Hermione would have to choose who to side with. It would all go downhill from there.
But Ginny had been elated for Harry. She was happy that he could finally be completely with someone. When Harry broke the news to Hermione, she was overjoyed to a degree that surprised him. She had become more and more withdrawn, opting to stay in Draco's room most of the time. When she whooped and leaped into Harry's strong arms, she felt like she hadn't smiled in years.
She had no idea Draco had seen her.
Maybe she really did deserve to be hit. What was she thinking?
No time to think about that now. Draco was furious at her silence; her show of humility and shame wasn't enough for him. He grabbed her hair and pulled it back harshly, eliciting a squeal of pain. He kneeled in front of her bare body on the bed, eyeing her exposed neck.
"Do I not satisfy you enough, is that it?" he growled. "Had to go to one of your other lovers to finish the job?"
"You want to leave me!" he screamed, his eyes wide with revelation. "You can't stand me and you want to leave me!!"
"NO! I don't!" she cried, her eyes squeezed tight from the pain in her scalp.
"I won't let you!" he declared, his eyes hot with desire and…and something else. Something wild. "I won't have you spreading your filthy legs to anyone but me!"
He scraped his face against her smooth neck, his breath hot against her cold skin. Hermione held back a scream when he suddenly bit down, hard. Draco drew a small amount of blood, which he quickly lapped up with his tongue. Her breath began to quicken as he sucked on her skin, making sure to leave mark.
He embraced her then, nearly crushing her against him, her breasts flattening against his solid body. One arm around her neck and the other around her waist. His grip on her hips tightened, his fingernails digging into her.
"Don't leave me," he moaned, his voice muffled as his face was pressed into her shoulders. He held onto her tightly, rocking.
Shakily, Hermione brought her hands up and tentatively wrapped her arms around him. When he didn't object, she began rubbing his back. She could feel his hard muscles through the thin, cotton, regulation button-up shirt he wore.
"Don't leave me," he repeated, his voice soft but suddenly grew louder, more unhinged. "You won't leave me!"
He slammed her down onto the mattress, his hands clutching her thin shoulders tightly.
"I'll make sure you'll never leave! They can't take you from me!"
Before Hermione knew it, Draco had entered her. She cried out in pain. She wasn't ready. He could barely stuff his large cock into her – she was too tight, too dry. But he didn't care. All he cared about was marking her as his. Claiming her. Showing her who she belonged to, even if it did hurt her.
With each thrust the pain ebbed slightly. The tearing of her vaginal walls produced some blood and despite the ache, her body began producing lubrication. As it became easier to move in and out, Draco began slamming into her with earnest.
Soon Hermione's cries of pain turned throaty although she winced whenever he drove into her too deeply. She swore she could feel his member all the way up to her diaphragm. The bed rattled and shook, adding to the chorus of their panting and moaning. Once he settled for a fast-paced rhythm, she managed to wrap her long legs around his torso, increasing her stimulation. Draco grabbed her breasts with both hands, squeezing and fondling them roughly.
Draco quickly grabbed her legs from under her knees and spread them wider. He then pushed them down to the mattress under her, so that her knees were on both sides of her head. They both groaned not only at the erotic display of her opening but also because now he could enter her more deeply. He plunged into her, all the way to the base. She was so slick with juices now it was almost unbearable.
As he was pounding into her, Hermione managed to vaguely hear him muttering over her heavy breathing. It was so hard to concentrate but she tried to listen.
"Whore whore whore whore whore…!" he was chanting, his face screwed up and his teeth clenched. "It's all your fault…this is all your fault!"
She could only moan in response. She tightened her hands into fists. He was almost there. His rhythm was off and he was pumping into her even harder than ever. The grip he had on her legs grew tighter. His mutterings and cursing grew louder until he was full on screaming at her, his eyes wide with passion and fury.
"You filthy whore! I'll fuck you dead!" he roared over her gasps. "I'll fuck you until you bleed! You fucking bitch…!"
Anything else he had to say became garbled as he came, hard, in her. He didn't care if she didn't get hers. He pushed his member into her a few more times, squirting ever last drop of his cum into her. When he pulled out, her entire crotch was soaked with her juices mixed with his seed.
After he pulled out, he collapsed heavily on top of her. Hermione was close to tears but she managed to hold them at bay. Why did it have to be like this? Why was it was becoming harder to coax out the Draco that she had known? Who was this man?
As she listened to his breathing, she tried to remind herself why she was doing this. She didn't know if she loved him, not when he frightened her like this, but she knew she couldn't be with any other person. She knew she wouldn't give up on him.
At first she thought he had fallen asleep, but when his hands crept up her arms she knew that wasn't the case. He kissed her languidly, partially lazy after his orgasm, partially confident in the fact that she wouldn't run away. He caressed her tongue with his own, exploring her mouth in its entirety. Hermione sighed contently.
When he broke the kiss to look her in the eyes, she froze. His eyes were still dark but for now they were hooded with an almost snake-like sensuality and arrogance.
"Tell me you'd never leave me," he cooed, his voice vibrating against her chest. He licked the side of her face and began working on her ear. A very sensitive spot for her. She shivered.
"I-I'd never leave you. Never," she complied, her voice breathy.
"Of course you wouldn't," he agreed, a smirk forming on his face. He blew wetly into her ear before gently nibbling on it. "Why leave when you have everything you could ever want right here."
Oh no. Out of all the sides of his personality, she hated this one the most. She thought she would have hated his violent, angry side the most but no. With that, at least she knew where she stood; she knew what to do. But with this strange, captivating persona, she didn't know what to do or what to feel. All logic and common sense flew out the window the second he casts that gaze on her. It was like pulling the carpet from right underneath her. It was like she was his doll.
"Like you would ever leave this," he whispered self-confidently as he began kissing his way down her neck, down between the slopes of her breasts.
Hermione drew a sharp breath. She trembled with anticipation, something Draco knew full well and in turn took his time, licking and kissing and nibbling. When he reached the hot apex between her thighs, he firmly parted her thighs so that her exquisite mound was exposed. He looked up briefly at her almost frightened expression and smirked before returning his gaze to her womanhood.
She always gasped at the first lick. He flattened his tongue and did a wide, upward sweep from her opening all the way to her clitoris. It was warm and wet and cold all at the same time. Goosebumps already formed all up her arms.
He was so damned good at this.
He first flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue before laving it endlessly with the flat of his tongue. As she moaned with pleasure, he began swirling around her swollen button. First clockwise then counter-clockwise, never stopping, never ending his assault. Around and around and around, his tongue worked his magic on the sensitive bundle of nerves. With each flick of his talented tongue, Hermione couldn't help but let out a throaty gasp. Her fists clenched and bunched the sheets. It felt like fire was running through her veins. She could feel the delicious, familiar heat and pressure building up.
"Oh!!" she squealed, eyes widening. Draco had begun sucking gently on her clit, making sure to flick it sharply between sucks. Oh no, she couldn't hold onto it any longer. The pressure, his rhythm, it was all too much. It was too little. It was too –
When she came, stars exploded and her eyes rolled to the back of her head even when she clenched her eyes shut. She managed to let out a strangled cry when she felt her vaginal wall tightened and pulsed, with excess juices slowly leaking out of her.
After what seemed to be forever, she managed to finally breath again and she collapsed back onto the slightly damp sheets. She rolled her head to the side, panting heavily, not able to think about anything but the pleasure. Hermione could dimly hear Draco chuckling but she was too sated to really care.
Draco got up to use the tiny bathroom attached to his room, unbuttoning his shirt off in the process. Hermione watched his magnificent body move with grace to the bathroom, involuntarily sighing with…content? Exhaustion? Once she came down from her high a little, she once again idly wondered how he became so good at it. How many women did he have to go through to perfect his technique?
The thought of him with other women pinched her heart with jealousy, which she quickly suppressed. It was useless to think about it – what she should focus on was the Draco of now and how to keep him that way.
When he came out of the bathroom, Draco had already removed the rest of his clothing, leaving him beautifully naked. With lust still apparent in his eyes, he stalked onto the bed and leapt upon her.
They fucked two more times that night. The second time, right before he was going to come, he quickly pulled out. After frantically stroking his cock a few times, he came with a gritty moan, ejaculating over her supple body, making sure to splash some of his milky seed all over her breasts and flat stomach. Before he was completely through, he shoved his still erect member into her mouth, forcing her to swallow the rest of his semen. With a few whispered words, he then coaxed her to lick as much off her as possible while he watched. It was embarrassing but when he stared at her with such hypnotic and searing eyes, she couldn't refuse.
By the time he fell asleep, it was already late into the night. Hermione, after making sure he deep in slumber, she sat up carefully to look down at him. She studied him. He looked so peaceful. Like he should be, all the time. Lightly, she brushed some of his light blond hair off his forehead.
She was beginning to figure out his pattern. As long as she stayed with him and submitted to his every whim, he seemed to be fine. She really didn't know what to make of that. Was he just a possessive man in nature? No, she didn't think so – she knew of most of his trysts back at Hogwarts, and he really couldn't give a flying fuck if the other woman seemed to stray. Not that they did.
Hermione sighed. Everything was becoming more and more complicated. What should she do? She knew she couldn't abandon him, he needed her now more than ever. At the same time, she was frightened. All she could do for now was to watch herself more carefully and hopefully, Draco wouldn't succumb to that dark persona.
"Please," she prayed silently to the gods in heaven. "Shine down on him, so that he can be the man he was always supposed to be."
When Hermione woke up the next morning, almost afternoon, Draco was already gone. She vaguely remembered hearing him get up in the middle of the night. He seemed to be going through bouts of insomnia because she would constantly see evidence of his nightly activities, mostly through strewn books and stacks of paperwork.
Groggily, she saw one book that stood out this morning. It was a large familiar tome; it was the book she was trying to share with him the night they first slept together in this room. She wondered what compelled him to read about the Marquis de Sade after all this time. Gently flipping through it, she stopped at a particular page.
She noticed it because it seemed the top corner was dog-eared, as if the reader wanted to remember the page. But then it was re-creased and pressed flat against the book, like the bookmark wasn't necessary anymore. It was peculiar because Hermione never creased or dented or wrote on books – it was akin to sacrilege to her. The only other person to do it then, naturally, was Draco.
She quickly skimmed the page, wondering what could compel him to take notice. In the end, she couldn't reach an irrefutable conclusion of what interested him, but in the back of her mind, a line popped up off the page for her.
Woman's destiny is to be wanton, like the bitch, the she-wolf; she must belong to all who claim her.
The quote itself chilled her. She wondered if it spoke out to Draco was well. She shook it off. There wasn't enough evidence to prove this was what intrigued him, so she dropped it.
She had to get ready for her meeting.
"So this is it," Harry said quietly, looking across from him.
"Are you prepared?" Draco asked just as quietly, not even bothering to leaf through the documents in front of him.
"I've been ready my whole life."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Stop that right now," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. He threw a crumpled note at Harry's head.
Harry chuckled before his expression turned more somber. He looked down, resting his arms on the table. After a sigh, he began playing with the gleaming gold ring on his left ring finger.
"Did you already wrap things up with Brown?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, Lav's off to prepare the kids and elderly in the shelters," he said before letting out a little laugh. "She told me exchanging rings wasn't enough for her. I had to come back alive in order to use all of my inheritance for a real ceremony."
"Quickly shoving a ring on a woman's finger hardly constitutes as a proper wedding."
"In that case, let's tell Voldemort to take a little holiday while we all spend all our resources on ice swans and roses," Harry said sourly.
"But think of all the wonderful presents you'd get," Draco said with a smirk.
"Are you all right Draco? Anything bothering you?" Harry asked suddenly. Draco was acting strangely for the past few months. He was more withdrawn and in the battlefield, more bloodthirsty. Just when Harry swore Draco was acting more than your typical kind of odd, he would come back with a quip or two that would satisfy Harry for the time being. Before he left for the final battle, he had to ask.
Also, Hermione had practically disappeared. She only appeared at crucial meetings and never really talked to anyone anymore. When he asked Draco, the man merely shrugged, apparently just as confused as the rest of them.
"I'm delightful," he retorted. "Just the thought that we all may come back dead or as slaves tomorrow really lets the sun shine through for me. Ass."
"I'm not even going to start with you," Harry said exasperatedly, giving up. The man was fine. "The only one who can put you in your place is Hermione, anyway."
Draco's expression remained neutral. "That's because she's smarter than three of you, Potter."
"Is she safe, in any case?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, I locked her up tight – even that little she-devil couldn't break out of it," Draco said casually.
"I can't believe I agreed to this."
"She was screaming and kicking down doors to get to you," Draco carefully explained. "If she had her way, you know she'd be right next to you when you greet the Dark Lord."
Harry shuddered. That definitely sounded like something she would do. And that was something he could not allow. He almost lost her once. Never again.
"Hermione must be spitting fire right now," Harry groaned, not looking forward to her infamous tirades.
"She'll get over it."
"Right," Harry said. "Let's go over these one more time, yeah?"
As the two went over the next day's battle plans, Draco couldn't help but smile slightly before re-focusing on the task at hand.
After months and months of skirmishes, the Light had finally decimated and captured the majority of Voldemort's cells littered throughout Europe. Now all that was left was their main stronghold, where he resided. The plan was to take most what was left of the Light and go for a full frontal attack. Their last stand, so to speak.
In the midst of the epic battle, they would sneak Harry in with only a few of his most trusted compatriots. Once they made sure Harry was safe, he would enter the Dark Lord's chambers.
It was the way it had to be. It was what the Prophecies decided.
Only one would survive.
Once they finished up all the last minute details, the two men slumped in their chairs. There were no more words to say to each other, in the way brothers had nothing more to say between them.
Before Harry left the room, he looked over his shoulder. "I'd feel a lot better knowing Hermione was okay with all of this. I wouldn't want to leave on a bad note."
Draco studied the dark-haired man. It looked as though numerous thoughts were running though his mind. Finally:
"I think I could arrange something."
"…going to…k-kill you…anh! When…hah…when I get out…but…!"
"But I know why you're doing this," Draco supplied, his tone lazy but sounded harsh with tight restraint.
"B-but…I know why you're…you're… Please, I can't - !" Hermione panted, unable to really form words.
"Be a good girl and finish the letter, then maybe I'll do something for you," Draco said loftily.
Hermione merely groaned in response. A few sweat droplets from her brow dripped onto the page, marring it.
"Oh dear, I think we may have to rewrite the whole thing! What do you think?" asked Draco.
The helpless, wanton way she cried this made Draco tense. Merlin's teeth, he nearly came just because of that. He let out a breath in a hiss. He had to control himself, if only to show her who was in charge.
"I'll let it go this time, but keep on writing."
"I…I can't! Ah!"
"Then don't you dare move," he whispered, firmly holding her hips down.
At the thought of this she shook her head and re-gripped the quill in her hand. Draco looked over her shoulder as she messily scrawled a note to Harry, writing down Draco's words verbatim.
Hermione had no idea how it ended up like this. She was quietly reading in the room when Draco had burst in, eyes determined.
"We're going to set Potter's heart at ease, how'd you like that?" he had asked, almost teasingly.
Of course, Hermione had no idea what he was talking about. But he placed a parchment paper and a quill on the small desk and pulled out the chair. Once she was about to tentatively sit down, she felt him behind her and found herself sitting on his lap. She quickly shot up to turn around, but his arms encircled her with amazing speed. Was she supposed to write the letter sitting on him? What was she even supposed to say? Don't worry about that, he had said. Just write down what I say.
Later Hermione would suspect he forced her write the letter the way he did because he didn't want her to question the words that she was writing. Why was she saying these things to Harry? But before she started to write, Draco had already unbuttoned her modest burgundy shirt and threw it on the bed.
"W-wait, what are you – " she began, but was quickly silenced when he began massaging her breasts from behind. Even through her white lacy bra she could feel the electricity of his hands. Soon they traveled down her body, flipping up her skirt. He nimbly pushed the crotch of her panties to one side and violently forced his middle finger all the way into her.
He ignored her moans of protests, instead focusing on pumping his long digit diligently in and out of her. He removed his finger and liberally spread her juices on her crotch before playing with her clit. Hermione tossed her head back and moaned. Draco's other arm snaked around her to press her firmly against him and held her down while he continued working his magic.
He would alternate between circling her clit vigorously and unexpectedly plunging his fingers into her. Once he worked his way into shoving three of his elegant fingers into her opening Hermione began to cry for release, begging for it. It was as if he knew exactly when it would all be too much and would then switch to something different, forever keeping her from orgasm.
At one point, he merely cupped her crotch, letting the heat of his hand cover her weeping sex. Hermione had begged him, begged him, to give her satisfaction. To fuck her, screw her, free her, kill her – anything to make the buildup stop. She could feel his erection pressing against the small of her back. Draco had leaned forward and whispered in her ear and within seconds, her shaking hands reached for the quill and parchment.
Once she finished writing the first line – god what was she even writing about? – he rewarded her by lifting her frail body and plunging her upon his engorged member. Hermione had screamed, nearly breaking the quill in her hand in half. Every few words or so, he would lift her up slightly so that he could slam his long cock into her, causing her to whimper with pleasure.
Hermione shook her head – she was almost done now. She had to focus on writing, only then would he…would he…
"G-good luck, Harry…," she rasped, hoping she was nearly done. Her handwriting was splotchy and nearly unreadable. She suddenly squealed. Draco had just slammed into her one more time. He gripped her wide hips with crushing pressure, firmly implanting her on his lap. He moved his hips slightly back and forth, stretching her inner walls.
"Love, Hermione," Draco grunted, trying to focus. He had to maintain control, otherwise he would start pumping into her until he came all over the chair. He didn't want Hermione to write 'love' to Harry, but he knew it wouldn't be believable if she didn't.
Gods, why couldn't she hurry the fuck up?
"Yess…!" Draco hissed, reaching out and sloppily swept the parchment off the table. He picked her up and threw her to the table. Hermione managed to land on the table with her upper body, the surface cold against her stomach. She was about to turn her head to peer over at Draco when he started to pump his member into her mercilessly.
"Aannh!" she cried out, tears of pleasure leaking out from the corner of her eyes. Finally, he would give her what she desired. He grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and pressed, making sure she stayed submissive and trapped in her position. The other hand tightly held onto her hip, helping him ram deeper into her.
He was at exactly the right angle, hitting her every time on her G-spot. Hermione didn't know how much more she could take. It felt so good, having him roughly pound away into her. Her eyes widened.
He was spanking her. His large hand connected again against her soft buttocks, firmly smacking her. The sound was deafening in their tiny room. Soon the room was filled with the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, their loud moans and cries and her cheeks getting punished at random intervals.
Hermione could feel the stinging pain from her buttocks but somehow it only enhanced her experience. Before she knew it, he was smacking her harder and more frequently. Draco loved the exquisite pain he was bringing to her. He found he liked hitting her – the sweet sound of her skin, the way it turned red after only one hit, the way her vagina clenched when his hand connected – it turned him on, more than he could have imagined.
After one more hard spank, Hermione climaxed hard, a whole universe exploding in her nether regions. Not long after, Draco slammed into her one final time, his seed bursting into her channel. With a groan, he threw his head back and collapsed on top of her, not caring if he was crushing her or not.
Once he settled down, his eyes drifted toward the forgotten parchment of the floor. He knew Harry was getting suspicious of Hermione's behavior, how she was more withdrawn and barely left the room anymore. It was because Draco felt anxious whenever she wasn't around or he didn't know what she was doing.
He did a good job, in his opinion, of keeping Hermione out of the loop. She had no idea tomorrow was going to be their last stand and he wanted to keep it that way. Though she had become less willful and more obedient, he couldn't guarantee that she would revert back to her old self and really would go chasing after Harry.
He couldn't allow that.
So he made up some excuse that Hermione caught wind of the operation and he had to lock her up for her own good. Now with the letter finished, Harry shouldn't have any more distractions and neither would he. Draco would lock Hermione up in a way where she couldn't say no. Only then would his mind be at ease.
He removed himself from her, noting with satisfaction the glow she almost seemed to emit after whenever they had sex. He sensually moved his hand up and down her smooth back, relishing the feeling.
"Do you dare leave this room tomorrow," he said. His words came out soft but with an underlying tone of granite. He was not to be disobeyed.
She nodded. She knew the steel, the force behind his command.
"You stay in here, do you understand me?" he ordered. "I can't let you out. Not yet. Not now."
Diary entry No. 1, Vol. I
I now understand what Draco was trying to accomplish two nights ago. After he delivered my so-called letter of farewell, Harry had him deliver me this laptop. How he had gotten his hands on something this Muggle is unknown to me, but he knows me better than I thought. Since I can't do anything but sit in this room, it's nice to somehow voice my thoughts.
Draco was right to stop me. I would have gone after Harry. Prophecies be damned, I'm not about to just sit around and wait for him to return – I would have marched to the frontlines and helped him out as much as I could.
But since this room is locked and warded, that option had been closed off to me.
Of course, the bigger question is, how did it go? What was the outcome of the War?
Thank god, we won. Of course we won; the good is supposed to triumph over evil in the end, right? But when you're surrounded by so much death and despair, it's easy to believe that such thinking should be left in fairy tales. Thank the gods, Harry is alive and it's all over.
You would think the ending of the War would be spectacular. With fireworks blaring in the sky and every man and woman fighting it out to the death. Epic.
Well, I'm sure that it was. Just…not for me. The ending of the War was quite uneventful for me. Rather than being out there, giving my life up for our efforts, I was locked in here, staring out the window that looks out over nothing. It was only thanks to a note slipped under the door that I knew the outcome of it at all.
I hear there's a rather large celebration happening downstairs but as of yet Draco has not been up here to free me.
I don't understand what's going on with us, what's going on with me. I feel like I'm –
Oh, Draco's here now.
WOW, omg I'm done. 20 pages of WEIRDNESS. I hope the pacing isn't throwing people off (. The glossing over MAJOR events was kind of intentional, because this story really just focuses on Draco and Hermione.
I apologize for all mistakes – this was done, as always, in a hurry and in practically one sitting. My betas will hopefully clean this up later and I'll repost it.
Haha, I'm shoving it down your throats, the uneventfulness of things. Like how Hermione did absolutely NOTHING for the final battle of the war? I think it's rather sad and pathetic, given how she's this feisty, intensely independent and talented witch and in the end, her best friends go off to save the world while she's stuck alone in a dingy room.
The pretentious quote you see in italics were again, from that bastard, the Marquis de Sade. Why do the craziest, most foul people have some of the greatest quotes? Dammit.
Thank you so much for sticking with me, as always!! Your support means so much to me, mostly because I'm an insecure and vain soul and any positive comments leave me happy and gooey and inspired to write more! I don't understand why people apologize for long reviews – don't you know that's like, the best thing in the world?
I hope you're enjoying this flashback section of the story – we have one more chapter of it to go! Again, go to my livejournal blog to read more about the inner workings of this chapter and chapters to come!!
Love you all!!
PS - …you guys really keep reading this story? Sometimes, I'm looking over my writing and I'm like, oh god. HORRIBLE! hahahaha