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One Soul Two Bodies	By : ForgetfulLove Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 23722 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own nor make money from the Harry Potter Fandom. I am not J.K. Rowling.

Chapter List
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This story is AU books 5, 6 and 7 are not used.

A thank you you goes out to my beta BunnyHops, who was nice enough to agree to beta this story.

“A tragedy is a representation of an action that is whole and complete and of a certain magnitude. A whole is what has a beginning and middle and end.”

--Aristotle

Part One

Awakening

Chapter One:

Mortuus Animus

The cries of anguish and the rotten, stomach-churning, maggot-infested smell of death filled every corner of the room. It was unpalatable and disgusting.

The cold cobblestone cell was no bigger than a small office. People, both dead and almost there, were crowded in the small space; seemingly left there to die. It was in one of the corners of this room that a woman, frail in frame and hair long, brown and tangled into a nest, sat and stared. Her thin, unused legs stretched out in front of her with her arms and hands limp at her sides. Her brown eyes stared at nothing. If it was not for the faint movement of her chest or the slow blink of her eyes, she could have easily been mistaken for one of the dead. She never cried or screamed like the others. She just sat there. Her eyes seemed to hold no soul and yet her body continued to function.

Not even when the sound of boots walking outside the cell and the people around her letting out a crescendo of excitement, did she flinch. Light flooded into the room as the metal door swung open, many had to shield their eyes from it. Only now were the maggots and flies that moved through and over the dead bodies visible.

An obese man in black robes and a hood hiding his face in shadow appeared before the people in the small cobblestone cell. His head moved back and forth, as if deciding on something. His hand then raised and he pointed to several women in the cell, including the seemingly dead woman in the corner. “The women I pointed to, stand.” A deep voice barked at them from underneath the hood. Shakily, the women got to their feet, their muscles quaked underneath their weight; some came close to falling down. Only one did not move to get up. The woman in the corner stayed as she was, unmoving and barely blinking. Not out of rebellion. No, she simply did not seem to hear him.

The man growled, “You, woman in the corner, get up!” When the woman did not move, he let out another angered growl of irritation. He moved quickly into the room, stepping over the dead as if they were not there. He stood in front of her for a moment before he bent down and pulled her up by the collar of the burlap sack she wore as clothing. She was light. Her legs did not move to stand her up.

Like a rag doll, she hung limp in his grip. For a moment he thought she was dead, but then, ever so slowly, her dull brown eyes blinked. “Stand up!” he screamed at her, bits of spit hitting her face. She did not flinch, but her thin legs did move to hold her upright. They shook underneath her, protesting the little weight she now put on them. He sneered down at her, before letting go of her burlap sack. She wobbled, but remained on her feet.

He turned away from her and began making his way out of the cell. When he was in the hallway, he turned around. The women he had called on before stood in the cell still, standing on their weak legs. They looked at him in fear, some of them even shook out of fright. He loved every moment, he grew hard at seeing their fear. “All of you that I called, come out here!” he bellowed, all but one of them jumped and all but one made their way over the bodies and out of the cell to stand before him.

When he saw that the woman in the corner did not move as he ordered her to do so, he could feel his patience running thin. He looked at one of the women, her skin was almost grey. Her blond straight hair hung heavily down to her breasts and her blue eyes refused to make contact with his. “You,” he said to her, his voice low. She jumped in fright and almost fell over. “You go get that woman in there.” Her body shook as she looked over her shoulder to see what he meant. She then turned and stiffly made her way over to the woman. She was careful not to touch any of the bodies with her blackened and naked feet. With a bony hand, she reached out and took the thin wrist of the woman. She started to pull, but soon realized that the other woman was not following.

The blond-haired woman frowned and whispered harshly, “Walk!” She then began to pull again on the woman's arm. To her surprise, the woman began to follow her. When they came upon the bodies, the woman would whisper harshly at her follower to step over them, since it appeared the other woman did not have the common sense to step over the body without being told. Finally, the two made it out of the cell and stood before the man once again.

Taking out his wand, the man whispered a spell under his breath and metal cuffs and chains shot from the tip. The metal cuffs went around the women’s wrists and metal collars, with a chain attached, went around their necks, pinching the thin skin there. The chains attached to the collars connected to a metal cuff the man wore on his fat right wrist. He began to walk. The women who were aware of themselves followed without complaint. However, as soon as he was almost a meter in front of them, the woman who needed to be told everything was pulled over and she fell down. She did not bother to try to catch herself as her chin skidded across the rough stone that made up the pathway. She laid there, not moving or making a sound. The other women looked at her, brows furrowing, wondering if this was all an act or if she was just a body that still functioned with no one home.

With a roar of anger, the man hurriedly walked back to the fallen woman. He picked her up by her burlap sack once again, “Stand!” he screamed at her, his voice echoing down the hall. She stood. “Walk when I walk!” the fat jowls of his face quivered at the force he used to yell.

The chains jangled and clinked together as they moved as a group down the long corridor. Finally, the man stopped in front of a wooden door and pounded on it with his plump pink fist.

“Enter!” called the voice from the other side of the door. The man opened the door and lead the group of women into the room that appeared to be an office. A man who had deep wrinkles, sagging skin at his neck and yellow for the white of his eyes was sitting behind a brown desk. His bony, long-fingered hand held a quill that was poised over a document. “What is it?” he asked, the loose skin of his neck shook as spoke. He set the quill down on the desk.

The fat man cleared his throat. “I brought a selection of women for the auction, just like you asked, Mister Kendrake.”

The yellow eyes of the man called Kendrake moved over the frail women briefly. “They will do. Remove the hair from their heads and cunts, who knows what is living there and Scourgify them. What is wrong with the one on the end?” he asked, as he looked at the woman who swayed on her feet. Her eyes looked at nothing as she ever so slowly blinked.

The fat man leaned forward to see who his boss was talking about. “She has been like that since I fetched them, Mister Kendrake. Can't function on her own without being ordered directly what to do. It's like she is dead, but her brain hasn't blown out the candle.”

Kendrake picked up his quill and looked back down at what he had been writing. “She'll make a fine slave for a domineering wizard. Leave now and clean them up. The auction is in an hour.”

~*~*~*~

“Welcome, gentlemen, to Azakaban's Mudblood Auction. Where you can buy Mudbloods for any reason: sex, cleaning, food for your dragon perhaps?” A skinny man with oily brown hair, and a pointed nose and chin, stood on a wooden stage. He was the auctioneer for the evening.

When he received no laughs for his poorly made joke, he cleared his throat uneasily. “First up, we have a Mudblood female, number 32991.” A woman was pulled out by a metal collar around her neck. She was naked. Her small breasts hung as she fell to the ground. She shrieked when she saw she was in front of people and immediately tried to hide her breasts from their view. However, the man holding her chain came up and forcefully removed her hands from her breasts. She let out another shriek of humiliation as her cheeks flushed crimson.

“This lovely Mudblood has blond hair and blue eyes. She still has some meat on her bones. We suspect she is around the age of thirty. Still ripe enough for a good fuck. Show them your pussy, Mudblood.”

The woman did not move. Her handler thrust her back to sit on her bottom and forced her legs open so the men of the crowd could see her center. “Shall we start the bidding at ten Galleons?” asked the auctioneer

A wizard held up his wand, which sent up a light that said thirty. “I have ten galleons. Do I hear twenty?” another man held up his wand with the number fifteen above it. “I have twenty. Do I hear thirty?” No one else placed a bid. “Come on, men, this is a nice piece of arse. Do I hear thirty?” he called out again. No one placed another bid. The greasy auctioneer sighed. “Twenty Galleons going once, twenty Galleons going twice. Sold! To number fifteen.” The woman was pulled off the stage crying as she once again covered her breasts with her hands. Her cries could be heard off the stage as her master came to collect her.

“I have a real treat in store for those of you who like their slaves quiet and obedient. A Mudblood female, number 32992.” Off stage a man could be heard yelling walk, before he appeared. A frail, bald woman followed him. Her legs walked stiffly and her head lolled side to side. She appeared to be nothing but skin and bones, no breasts were present for her and her stomach was concave, making her ribs stick out. The handler turned her forcibly to face the crowed. Her dull brown eyes blinked slowly. It appeared she did not even see them and if she did, she certainly did not care.

In the crowd stood three men, their cloaks hiding their faces. The man on the far left leaned into the man in the middle, “Is that Granger?” he asked.

The man in the middle shook his head. “I am not sure. If it is, she looks very different. But I presume prison would do that to a person.”

The man on the far right nodded. “It’s her, I smell her scent. A person's pheromones never change drastically. Bid on her.”

“Are you absolutely sure it is her?” asked the middle man.

“Yes,” growled the man on his right.

“Now, I know she is not much to look at, gentlemen, but with a few good meals, I am sure she will thicken up. She does not have much going on in that little head of hers. Nevertheless, watch this. I am sure it will sell you. She will do anything you order her to do and the best part? She doesn't complain, because she does not talk. Nobody is home, if you get what I am saying.” The auctioneer went over to the swaying Hermione. “Sit down and spread your legs! Show the men your pussy, Mudblood!” he yelled at her.

Hermione blinked slowly, before maneuvering to sit on her bottom. She opened her legs wide. Her pussy was now in full view of everyone. The man got down on one knee and pointed to her pussy.

“Look at this beautiful pussy. With a little meat on her bones, this Mudblood would be a gorgeous sex slave. It gets better gentlemen, this Mudblood is a virgin! Not many of those left here in Azkaban.” He then looked at her face. “Masturbate yourself!” he yelled. She did not filch even a little. Slowly, she lifted a bony hand and moved it over her sex. Mechanically, she began to masturbate herself. However, there was no pleasure in her eyes, but her center did start to glisten as it reacted to her touch. Nevertheless, it was just a thing her body remembered how to do.

“Let's start the bidding at twenty Galleons!” the auctioneer called as he stood and Hermione continued to masturbate herself, her hips had started to move with her hand, her eyes remained dull.

Bids flew through the room at an alarming speed. The auctioneer struggled to keep up with them, he was sweating. Suddenly, a man called out from the back, “Four hundred and fifty Galleons!” He held up his wand, the number twenty-five hovered above it. All went quiet and the auctioneer stared wide-eyed at the man in the back of the room.

The auctioneer slid a hand over his oily hair. “Four hundred and fifty Galleons...is that what you said, sir?” The man with the number twenty-five nodded. “Do I hear four hundred sixty?” he called out with surprise. No one lifted their wands. “Four hundred and fifty going once, four hundred fifty going twice! Sold, for four hundred and fifty Galleons to number twenty-five!” The man licked his dry lips and then sneered. He was going to get a good commission tonight.

“Stop! The handler yelled to Hermione. She let her hand drop to her side. “Stand up and walk!” She did so following him off stage where her new 'master' was waiting for her with two other cloaked figures. The handler put a burlap sack over her head and then handed her chain to the man that had bought her. “Have fun with her,” said the handler, before he walked off.

The man pulled on the chain and Hermione fell forward into him. He put his arms around her limp body and Apparated out of the auction house. The two men with him followed his example.

~*~*~*~

As soon as she felt the wards shift, Molly Wesley opened the door to the cabin where the Order had settled . She knew it was them, she recognized their magical signatures. “Did you find her this time?” she asked as she went to the three men. She then squealed with excitement when she saw the woman standing in the middle man's arms. She took Hermione from the man and turned her around. She hugged her. “She is so thin. I am going to have to fatten her up...what is wrong with her? Why is she not hugging me back? Why is she not saying anything? Hermione?” she asked, when she realized that Hermione was like a limp doll in her arms. She pushed Hermione back gently, so she could see her face.

Tears swelled in Molly's eyes, the girl had dead eyes. “What...what is wrong with her Severus?”

The middle man removed his hood. “I am not sure. She is alive to a degree. She is responsive to orders given to her, but that is all she will do. She does not function without an order. I need to run some diagnostics on her. Lupin, will you help me with that?”

“Of course I will,” man to his right said.

“Before you do anything, we need to get her a bath, proper clothes and a hot meal. Ron will be over joyed to see her. He hasn't been the same since she disappeared,” said Molly. She put her hand around the frail girl’s shoulders, and tried to lead her into the cottage, but the girl would not move. “Hermione, walk,” Molly said firmly. Her voice breaking as she did so. Where was the strong, brave girl that she thought of as a daughter? Hermione walked forward into the cottage. The candle was lit, but nobody was home.
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