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A Death Eater's Captive	By : jsu1660n Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Barty Views: 27613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, neither the characters from the books or movies. I receive no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-A Death Eater's Captive
- 1
A/N: Okay, here is the thing. I am typically a Twilight Fanfiction writer, so please don’t crucify me to harshly for bringing together two of my favorite Harry Potter characters!

The Death Eater’s Captive

Cold. Cold and dark were the first things that came to the mind of Hermione Granger. Awareness slowly crept back to her stiff limbs after being on the receiving end of a particularly nasty stunner. She couldn’t see anything because there was a cloth covering her eyes. She couldn’t speak because there was a muggle device strapped into her mouth and around her head—a ball gag.

Her shoulder blades and knees ached due to her kidnapper magically chaining her on her knees with her arms spread above her head. Her one and only nightmare since he was resurrected was realized—she was captured.

Oh bugger, Harry’s going to have kittens if something happens to me, she thought. Constant vigilance…Alastor would be so disappointed.

A door slammed behind Hermione on her left. Being rendered blind and virtually defenseless, her other senses were stronger. She could hear the steady footsteps and feel someone approaching. Someone dangerous.

She remained as still as she could, her mind working frantically to come up with some type of plan. He was close to her now, so close that she could feel his body heat.

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice called from behind her. “The brains of the Golden Trio, the wizarding world’s brightest witch of her age.” His voice surrounded her as he walked a complete circle around her. “I would almost feel humbled in your presence if you were not a filthy little mudblood.”

Hermione visibly tensed at the man’s slight against her heritage.

Bigoted bastard! she attempted to yell through the ball gag in her mouth.

“Something you wish to share, little girl?” he said, mockingly. “I suppose I could allow you to speak, but you look so enticing with that ball between your lips,” he whispered, tracing the contours of her lips with his fingertip. “Before I remove it, I will say this. Although I will find your screams entertaining, there is only you and I in here.” His hand curled in her hair, wrenching her head back as his warm breath blew in her ear. “No one can help you.”

Her captor removed the gag and let it drop to the floor as Hermione flexed her jaw. “Why am I here?”

“You know, for the brightest witch of her age, you are a bit slow,” he laughed. “You are here, my dear mudblood, because you are important to Harry The-Boy-Who-Will-Not-Do-Us-All-A-Favor-And-Just-Die Potter, therefore, you are important to my lord.”

Hermione’s breath caught at the mention of Voldemort. “Then you are one of his…a Death Eater?”

“Very good. Oh, the rewards I will receive for handing you over to him,” he said, speaking with a dreamy sigh.

No! He can’t turn me over to him! Not when we are so close to finding the last horcruxes. Come on, Hermione. Think, think!

“He doesn’t know that you have me yet, does he?”

“Why? Are you so eager to be tortured to the brink of insanity?”

Her stomach dropped at the thought. Would they torture her more once they realized she would never betray Harry and the Order? Would they kill her or amuse themselves by watching her mind snap like Neville’s parents?

“Or is it that in being Potter’s whore, you think that you can negotiate with me, little girl? Hmm?” he brushed her hair from her shoulder and dragged his warm tongue up the length of her neck, eliciting a hissing gasp from the young Gryffindor’s lips.

“Please…”

“Please what, Hermione?”

She shuddered as his voice curled around her name like a constricting serpent. “Please, don’t let him take me.”

“How can I resist when you look so at home down there on your knees?” she felt him move again and he was standing directly in front of her. “So the question is, my pretty little mudblood, what are you willing to do to stay out of the Dark Lord’s way?”

Gathering the last of her Gryffindor courage, Hermione whispered, “anything.”

Her captor grew quiet, contemplating the implications of her actions. “Agreed.”

The tenseness fell almost immediately from Hermione’s shoulders. Yes, she had made a pact with the lowest of the low—a Death Eater—but the alternative was considerably worse.

What are Harry and Ron going to think? Harry would be relieved that he didn’t hand me over to Voldemort, but Ron, Ron would be completely disgusted that I allowed one of those gits to touch me.

“Tell me, little girl, can you suck cock?”

Hermione tensed again, her face flaming an embarrassed blush as the Death Eater cackled madly before her.

“Don’t tell me you’re innocent? Have you ever seen a cock outside of your precious books?” he mocked.

“Of course I have!” she declared, more offended than afraid. “I…I just…it’s been a while.”

“Potter or Weasley?” he all but hissed.

“Neither. Contrary to what your lot believes, I have never been more than a friend, a sister at best, to either of them.”

He moved quickly, his robes billowing and caressing her face as he gripped her hair. “Then who, mudblood?”

“Viktor Krum,” she whimpered frightfully. She had to remember, above all courage, above all civility, she was still dealing with a Death Eater.

“Oh, yes, I should have guessed, especially considering the way he was wrapped around you at the Yule Ball.”

Hermione could feel the color draining from her face. “How do you know about that?”

“You will come to find out that I know many things about you, little mudblood. Now, there are much better things you should be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

She listened intently to the shuffling of his robes as he disrobed. She blushed again, realizing that not three feet away from her stood a naked Death Eater.

“Now, be a good little whore and suck.”

He wasted no time thrusting into her mouth, relishing in the little gagging sounds she made. He was thicker than Viktor, longer too. She knew he could cause her serious damage if he wanted. Taking delicate breaths, Hermione relaxed her throat, swallowing his length. He groaned deeply above her, drawing in ragged breaths.

“That’s it, mudblood. Don’t stop moving your tongue,” he groaned, gripping her hair as she moaned around him.

Against her will, her body began to react to his groaning and panting. Her nipples hardened, the coil in her belly tightened and her panties were suddenly flooded with hot moisture.

“Don’t you dare waste a drop of my cum, mudblood.” His hands gripped her hair tightly to stop her from moving while he fucked her mouth as long, hot spurts of come coated her throat.

How could a Death Eater taste so good?

She swallowed every drop, teasing his sensitive head as he softened, thrusting lightly in the aftershocks.

He stepped away from her and she could feel the burst of magic flowing in the air. The chains suddenly disappeared and Hermione fell forward. Instinctively, she reached for the blindfold, but it was spelled so that she could not get a grip on it.

“You didn’t think that we were done, mudblood? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, we are far from done. It’s a shame you cannot see yourself right now. Your hair is wild like a lion’s mane, your skin is glistening and your lips are red and swollen as though you have just finished sucking world-class cock. Such a beautiful sight, little mudblood.”

She could feel him walking around her, assessing her reactions. “Remove the blindfold, please.”

“Why?”

“Please. If I’m going to…do more…I would like to be able to see you.”

“You want to see me? I may have to kill you.” she said nothing to his chilling threat. He sighed in mock annoyance. “Very well. You always were a curious little girl.”

The blindfold disappeared from her eyes. He was tall, muscled, but not overly so and his cock stood proud, hardening as she licked her lips the way a cat laps at its milk. His face was still covered by his chilling Death Eater’s mask.

Hermione went to rub the ache from her knees and saw that he had her dressed in her Hogwarts uniform, but the skirt was incredibly short, barely covering her panties that were laced and emerald green, trimmed in silver. The shirt was buttoned directly under her bust, exposing the creamy skin of her stomach the curve of her high breasts. He even had her Head Girl badge pinned to her shirt.

“Who would have guessed, the Gryffindor Princess a closet Slytherin!” He waved his hand and the darkened basement morphed into an eerily familiar classroom. “This was where I first laid eyes on you, missy.”

Hermione stood shakily, looking in horror at the replicated version of Hogwarts’s DADA classroom. “What—but—who are you?” she demanded, suddenly sounding stronger than she actually felt.

“Oh, come now, mudblood, you know who I am. Or do I need to Crucio a spider to remind you?”

“But…no…no, that’s impossible!” she trembled, slowly backing away.

“Nothing is impossible, little girl.” He waved his hand over his face and the mask faded in a hissing black swirl.

Hermione covered her mouth, terror shining brightly in her eyes as she stared into the demented brown eyes of Barty Crouch, Jr.

“Did you really think my master would allow me, his most faithful servant—the only one who returned to his side when he needed me the most—to suffer a half-life from the Dementor’s Kiss?” like a lightning strike, Barty Crouch appeared in front of Hermione grabbing her wrists. His tongue darted out quickly like a snake and for a brief moment, Hermione wondered what else his tongue could do. “And you, my pretty little mudblood, will be the sweetest prize.” He grabbed her wrists with one hand, dragging her towards the teacher’s desk. “You have no idea the torture I went through that year with you constantly throwing your hand in the air, so eager to answer every single question and prove that you were better than other mudbloods, better than purebloods even.” His hand wrapped around the back of her neck as he forced her to bend her leg over the desk, pushing the other apart with his thigh. “So many times I wanted to just grab you and fuck you right here in front of the class, in front of Saint Potter and that little Blood Traitor. You were mine then as you are now. You have always been mine. Tell me who you belong to, tell me who your master is!”

“No, not you, never you!” she struggled as his fingers edged dangerously close to her panty line.

“Yessss, who is your master, mudblood?” he ripped off the underwear, thrusting one finger inside of her slick core, ignoring her startled gasp. “Tight little bitch.”

Her thighs trembled in an effort to prevent herself from moaning aloud at his enthusiastic stroking. Another finger slipped inside of her, his thumb rubbing against her hardened clit. Hermione moaned and shook in his grasp, her orgasm closing in on her when Barty suddenly withdrew.

“Why did you stop?” she panted, leaning back against the desk.

“Who am I to you, mudblood?” he whispered as his eyes glinted madly.

Hermione knew she should resist. She should fight him at all costs and try to escape, but even she could admit to herself that Barty Crouch was the star of one of her many dark fantasies.

“My master.”

And then all hell broke loose.

His lips and tongue went everywhere. He tasted her mouth, teased her tongue. He assaulted her neck, leaving red bite marks over every inch of skin he could reach. He ripped her shirt open, destroying her bra while biting and suckling her nipples. Hermione fell dizzy as Barty devoured her body incensed by her incessant moans proclaiming him as her master.

In a play of strength, Barty hoisted her up on the desk as quills, parchments and books scattered on the floor. He tore her skirt off pressing his lips against her core.

“Yes, master! More, please, more!” she moaned bucking towards his face as her hands tangled in his silky locks.

At her request, Barty added three fingers thrusting deeply within her. Hermione could feel it coming. That wonderful wash of pleasure within her grasp, yet always slipping through her fingers.

“Do you want to come, little girl? Do you want your master to make you come?” he teased. A lustful smirk graced his sopping wet face.

“Please master, please make me come!”

Barty lowered his head again, biting Hermione’s clit. The pleasure/pain combination was too much for her. She came hard, screaming his name as her juices squirted around his fingers, forming a puddle beneath her ass.

He leaned his forehead against her thigh relishing in her little tremors and jagged gasps. “I hope you wore your ‘big girl panties’, as the muggles say, because we are far from finished, mudblood.”

Hermione whimpered lightly at Barty’s promise. With a silent divesto, Hermione was stripped of her remaining clothes and quickly placed on top of the outstretched Death Eater. With his hands folded underneath his head and a smirk that could rival Malfoy’s, Barty made his intentions clear.

“Ride me, mudblood.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Hermione took Barty’s hardened cock in her hand. She rose slightly, meeting his heated gaze before impaling herself on his hard length. Again, pain meddled into pleasure as Barty stretched her to fit his shape. She moved slowly, savoring the control she had over the quivering Death Eater beneath her. His hands tightened behind his head in a struggle to keep from slamming her up and down on him. The slow friction killing him.

“Touch me, master,” she whispered. “Touch me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as his trembling hands tenderly caressed the globes of her ass before moving upwards to her hips before tugging her nipples.

She arched as a delicious wave of pleasure swept through her at Barty tweaking her nipples. He sat up off the desk and placed his hand around the back of her neck, urging her mouth towards his. With a slow rocking rhythm, the demented Death Eater façade and the frightened captive mask fell away as they clung to one another, determined to draw out their climaxes.

Feeling her muscles clench around him, Barty reached between them, his fingers methodically stroking her little bundle of nerves. As she came undone around him, singing his name in the sweetest melody, he cried out allowing her to drag him over the edge into the abyss.

For a moment, they clung to each other, savoring their moment together.

“Goddess,” he whispered into her hair. Moments later, Barty apparated them both to the bathroom, starting a bath in the massive tub.

Hermione settled back into her husband’s chest as his arms wrapped around her. He kissed her shoulder softly, still questioning how she could ever be his.

“What time are we supposed to pick up Miranda and Alexander from Mrs. Weasley?” although Barty was deemed rehabilitated by both Ministry officials and St. Mungo’s Healers, much of the wizarding world took it hard that Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio fell for one of the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers. The implication that Molly preferred they not become familiar on a name basis is quite clear from the disdain in her eyes whenever she sees him and the crisp way first she says, “Hermione’s husband.”

“Around six,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “Barty?”

“Yes, Goddess?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with us, that we celebrate the anniversary of the fall of Voldemort by pretending to be Death Eater and captive?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. “You get to live out your fantasies of being dominated and I get to give in to my darker desires. Why? Do you regret it? Did I hurt you today?”

Hermione smiled to herself. “No, love, you were perfect.”

*~*~*

Later that night, after a less than cheerful departure from the burrow, Barty and Hermione settled the twins down for the night and retired to their bedroom where Winky left their favorite meals and a bottle of Merlot.

“What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

“Well, Bill said that there are three other antiques of Mr. Turpin’s that are still cursed. Once I finish those, that should be it for the week,” he replied excitedly. Although the Weasley’s still struggled to accept him, no one could say that he was anything less than gifted at curse breaking. “How about you?”

“I’m going to the Ministry to register my latest potion. It’s not a cure, but one dose allows vampires to walk in the sunlight for a maximum of twelve hours. It’s not much, but—.”

“It’s brilliant, Goddess.” His eyes gleaming both adoration and lust.

“Let’s go to bed, husband.”

Hermione cried out as Barty thrust inside her. “Still as tight as the first time,” he gasped.

“Yes, yes,” she cried.

They continued deep within the night, their appetites for one another never satiated. Barty was cured and a functioning member of society again, but when Hermione wanted it, he could still be the ruthless Death Eater that dominated her like no other. What a pair they made.

Her love, her Death Eater.

His goddess, his captive.

Fin.

A/N: I know, I know, it got a bit sappy at the end, but I love these two!
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A Death Eater's Captive