Precious Mudblood | By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 79302 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6 |
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The world returned gradually: Shallow echoing sounds,
clinking; scraping.
A sense of coldness;
A feeling of rough gritty stone beneath her splayed
fingertips and against her cheek;
the sense of imponderable heaviness in her entire body.
Her closed eyelids felt like old parchment, crackly and
fragile. Her mouth tasted coppery sharp
and metallic and there was a pervasive stench of rotten meat and urine in the
air.
She floated in the faintly disquieting void of mindless
sensation for a while before suddenly sharply returning to herself, gasping, awareness pushing in uncomfortably on all sides in the
unnatural sensation peculiar to ennervation.
“rouse yourself, mudblood” a rough
male voice spat from somewhere to her left.
“its time to go. Mustn’t keep the Dark Lord
waiting.”
The voice sniggered softly as pain bloomed in her like the
return of spring.
Her chest ached, the side of her head throbbed,
breathing felt like inhaling needles.
She forced her eyes open, peering into the dimly lit space before her. Stone block walls and manacles, Indeterminate filth and body parts in one corner. Not the most encouraging place to awaken.
She took stock of herself.
She was still in her uniform from the battle, her skirt damp and itchy
around her knees.
Her blouse blackened and gaping open over a large livid burn stretching from
her right shoulder to her navel, exposing her breast.
Dirt and blood, covered her, both her own and that of others, but her injuries,
uncomfortable as they were, were minor, she realised, relieved.
Pushing against the floor with arms as weak as rubber she managed to sit
up.
Obviously not fast enough for her guard, she thought as a
hand gripped her upper arm, violently wrenching her up to her feet and dragging
her backward, stumbling and dizzy. She
would have crashed back down to the ground again if the hand had not maintained
its crushing grip on her.
A mans face floated into
view. Wavy dark brown shoulder length
hair hung limp and unkempt. His olive tinted features were broad and angular,
eyes dark in the gloom and he was unshaven.
Dark, swarthy and leering unpleasantly in a most stereotypical manner –
yes this was certainly the very image she had of what a death eater would look
like behind their mask. A brute of a
man, he probably woke in the morning, gargled with firewhiskey
and tortured, raped and killed things for the rest of the day before quaffing
himself into a stupor in the early hours with a scree of other similar neanderthals.
A creature of appetite, thinly shackled in obedience
to a mad snake-faced master.
He smirked, apparently amused. “what do you think
you know of me, little dirt-child? Or of the Dark Lord, for that matter? You’d be wise to take care with your words here. Your place in the world has changed.”
He stepped closer to her, still holding her in an iron grip. She felt the heat radiating off him even
through the black robes he wore. His
eyes trailed down her face and across her exposed, damaged body.
She could almost feel his gaze crawling across her skin.
His free hand trailed up her abdomen to brush beneath her naked
breast gently, teasingly.
Shocked she jerked backwards, her hands flying up to push
him away. She didn’t even see him move
but his hand had released her shoulder and he had captured her at the wrists
and secured her arms behind her back, holding them there with one arm. He drew his wand and muttered a spell to bind
them there.
Dragging his wand up her body he pressed it against the side
of her throat lazily, his other hand returning to her bared breast and gripping
now, squeezing, not unkindly although her burnt flesh flared in agony at the
pulling of her skin, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles around her nipple,
which rose at his ministrations, quite against her will.
She blushed in shame and twitched slightly, beginning to panic.
Was he going to rape her now? Oh Merlin. Stop it, body! Was he going to rape
her?!!
He’d said he was taking her to Lord Voldemort. There wasn’t time for him to do anything, was
there?
She tried to reassure herself and remain calm. He wouldn’t want to piss off his already
intolerant and vicious master and risk drawing punishment upon himself.
But the reassurance only twisted and threw her full tilt into the black panic
she was trying to escape.
Oh gods.. she
was going to be taken before Lord Voldemort.
Fuck. Fuck fuck
fuck.
Where was everyone else? Were they
perhaps as close as the next cell?
Were they somewhere free and trying to find her?.
..were they dead??!
She bit this idea off immediately.
She had been fighting on the slopes stretching down to the forbidden forest on
Hogwarts grounds, where the final battle had erupted, hoards of death eaters
pouring from the trees and still more apparating as the wards must have
fallen.
The sun hung low and red in the sky, painting everything in garish surreal
tones, letting glow the blood that was shed all around her as witches and
wizards fought and fell to horrible curses.
She and Harry and Ron had drifted apart in the chaos.
She had seen Ron off in the distance and he seemed to be holding his own
against a large blonde grinning wizard.
Ginny was off to the right some way away fighting with a witch in green robes.
She had seen Tonks fall and had
then turned and found herself confronted with four combatants where before had
stood two and had cast a high level shield spell and tried to withdraw to find
cover in order to stand a chance against those odds..
She didn’t remember what had happened next.
The others.. what
had happened in the battle? Did one side
retreat?
What happened to Harry and Ron? Were they here? Would they be coming for her?
God.. going
to Voldemort now, she thought panicked, The order won’t have time to save me
before then..
“There is no one left to save you.” Her guard growled
softly.
She froze. ‘he can hear my
thoughts.’ Her mind whirled. She had tried to learn occlumency
from books but it proved a wasted endeavour. It appeared that legilimency and occlumency were something you had to learn through doing and she had had nobody to practice
with.
When Harry had been learning occlumency
he had, at first, come back to the common room each night and told Ron and herself
everything about it. But then something
had happened, Harry would never tell her what, and after that he didn’t want to
talk about it anymore and wouldn’t be persuaded to practice it with her.
After a while she had decided that there was no point spending time on the
activity when there were many other areas to which she could be applying
herself with far greater results.
But that was then, when things were clear and they were
going to go to battle, kick Moldy short’s butt and be
home in time for tea.
Things looked much simpler back then.
And now..she was actually IN Voldemort’s lair.
Alone.
Being felt up by a death eater so proficient in legilimency
that he apparently did not even require eye contact.
If she had known that this was where things would end up she
would have spent a lot more time and effort on somehow forcing someone to teach
her occlumency.
Or on developing her wandless magic. Or at least taken some
martial arts classes or something so
that she wouldn’t have ended up bound and helpless quite so effortlessly.
‘oh gods.. what
if he’s telling the truth’ her mind supplied suddenly. ‘what
if Voldemort won and there’s nobody left out there?’
Her stomach roiled and she flicked her eyes back up to the
face of the man still pawing her casually,
he looked amused, eyes half hooded,
his hand was skating feather light over her skin and she wanted to be sick
because against her best efforts to ignore the sensation, it felt pleasant. ...enticing.
her body was informing her that it liked the sensation
- and it clearly shouldn’t!
Her breathing was becoming shallower and she felt hot and
uncomfortable. This was like a
nightmare. There were actual dead people in pieces in the room behind her.
This horrible animal was the first man to touch her breast - ever – she had been a ‘good girl’, all
this time.
Pushing Ron away when he had wanted to do more than kiss her
– losing him to lavender for doing so.
Ignoring the advances of other boys in her year she knew didn’t really care for
her. saving
herself.. for this?!
And she was probably shortly going to be tortured and killed
by Voldemort, and as easily as that idea rolled across the mind, it was only
because the reality was beyond her current powers of comprehension.
The death eater, now holding her almost pressed against him,
plucked at her nipple gently, and she gasped, arching slightly.
Silent tears slid down her cheeks in shame.
He leaned into her slowly and his face brushed against hers..
dropping to graze his lips against her throat
lightly.
Her heart sped even more at this. She
felt a strange cold breath. ‘did he just..sniff me?! Ugh’.
She felt him smirk against her skin.
The man pulled back again, true amusement written across his
face. “you need
to watch that mouth of yours, pet”
She blinked. Feebly she tried to clear her mind but it was
like trying to hold water in her hands. Her mind just kept producing commentary
and reaction on the sensations of her body, on the looks and person of the man
in front of her, on the possible condition of her friends, on what might happen
to her soon. She felt overwhelmed. Helpless. Like a
ship at sea without a rudder.
The death eater laughed low at her frustration. The sound was not unpleasant.
“You’re going about that all wrong, But you’ll learn soon enough I think. You are good at that, aren’t you? Learning? That’s what you’re
..famous.. for.
So pay attention”
He fixed her with a hard expression and his dark eyes suddenly seemed icy
glinting stones.
“obey.”
His hand stopped groping her and slid up to grip her arm
tightly again.
“Do not fuck around with anyone
you meet here – especially the Dark Lord.
At this stage you are nothing. No – to be nothing would be better – you
are filth; the mudblood whore of the enemy.”
“If you displease the Dark Lord he will kill you. Slowly. It will be greatly entertaining for all. You have no idea how..inventive..
he can be when it comes to suffering.”
“If you want to avoid that fate - do whatever he says and do
it immediately.”
“Bow and prostrate yourself before him. Do
not look him in the eye unless he commands it. Beg for your worthless little life! You will find that your pride will only bring
agony upon you.”
“Should you by some happy chance survive this night, know
that If you offend any death eater in any way -
although they will not kill you, you will likely beg them for death between
your screams and sobs.”
“The life that you had before is finished mudblood. There is
nothing to return to. There is no
escape. Resign yourself to your fate.”
He stepped back suddenly and she could only sway suddenly in
the inexplicable cold of his absence, icy fingers gripping her heart as he
pulled open the heavy oaken door.
He dragged her briskly down seemingly endless stone
corridors, past doors through which faintly resounded screams and moans, up a
narrow stone staircase and through another door, emerging into an opulent, if
sombre foyer.
Dark marble floors with blood red veins were broken at regular intervals by
black stone pillars intricately carved and inlaid with precious stones.
The ceilings receded into blackness, invisible above, while strange spherical
lamps floated suspended in the air.
They were of shattered crystal charmed to appear to be exploding outward from a
central point from which emanated soft white light.
A black carpet ran down the centre of the long room between
the lines of pillars, culminating in large imposing black doors. As she stepped onto the carpet with the death
eater, the sound of their footfalls vanished and she felt herself sink
marginally into the luxurious surface.
The doors, as they drew near, appeared to be composed of
some dark kind of stone with a surface like slate and as they came within a few
paces, her ‘guide’ released her arm briefly and, tossing back the sleeve of his
robe, touched his wand to the dark mark on his left arm, before immediately
gripping her once more.
She felt panic rising inside her like a kind of madness.
‘MerlinMerlinMerlin someone help
me. This is really happening. I don’t
want to be here. I don’t want to go in
there. Don’t make me go in there.
Please!!’
Her eyes darted left and right looking for something,
anything that might offer an escape – she had not seen any other doors since
they had climbed out of the dungeons.
She looked at the man next to her, whose eyes were firmly fixed on the doors
before them. Whimpering softly under her
breath and tugging weakly at her arm, caused him only to tighten his grip and
press his lips together slightly, his expression darkening, but still not
looking at her.
After interminable moments there was a crack sound and the
doors began to swing inward silently.
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