Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Deception	By : valkyrie136 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 41681 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or related franchises. I do not make any money from these stories.

Chapter List
- 1-Finish It
- 2-Red Rabbit
- 3-Linger
- 4-Setting Out
- 5-Sweet
- 6-Shiver
- 7-Discord
- 8-Intruder
- 9-Preservation
- 10-Humiliation
- 11-Prurient
- 12-Dreams
- 13-Denial
- 14-Contemplation
- 15-Panic
- 16-Ravish
- 17-Rape
- 18-Cling
- 19-Disown
- 20-Nightmare
- 21-Haze
- 22-Discover
- 23-Bitter
- 24-Present
- 25-Detached
- 26-Regret
- 27-Dispute
- 28-Colors
- 29-Awakened
- 30-Obedience
- 31-Anger
- 32-Challenge
- 33-Confused
- 34-Cold
- 35-Fear
- 36-Cryptic
- 37-Void
- 38-Ninth Hour
- 39-Tenth Hour
- 40-Eleventh Hour
- 41-Midnight
- 42-Suprise
- 43-Infantile
- 44-Oath
- 45-Defeat
- 46-Maleficent
- 47-End
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Readers: I have tried to clean up the chapters after receiving a very critical and honest review regarding spelling. Changes are primarily spelling errors. While I appreciate any and all comments, plot changes are unlikely. I hope I got everything!
I also think it is important to warn readers that this story is dark and graphic. There are graphic depictions of rape, kidnapping, and otherwise abusive behavior. These can be triggering.
I do not endorse these behaviors. This is a work of fiction. And I encourage readers to not feel guilt if they enjoy this kind of story. Fantasy is just that--and you have the control [such as to stop reading] UNLIKE in real life.
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At first it was just a haze. Then it became more substantial. Flashes of images, moving too quickly for him to understand what he was seeing. A shadowy figure both unrecognizable and formless. But most importantly, there was a fleeting scent.
Something he could drown in. But gone too fast for him to understand much beyond that single notion--that he could drown in it.
And then finally...mind-numbing pleasure.
Time was immeasurable. The haze felt like an eternity, enveloping him, stretching forth with no end in sight.
How long he floated there was something he would never know. His entire world narrowed down to a singular sensory experience: a body, and the new knowledge that it was both soft and warm.
And then just like that, his dream came to an end, and he was grounded in harsh reality. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to make sense of the confusion around him.
It was dark, but he could see. The walls were made of thick and unevenly cut rocks. There were traces of cobwebs and moss. A dank, damp atmosphere fit for a dungeon, and in his gut he just knew that was where he was. A dungeon, a place where people were thrown and forgotten. Not at all where someone like him should be. No, he was the one who tossed people away with a flick of a dispassionate finger.
Never to be seen again.
Draco Malfoy was going to discover the source of his current predicament, and when he did, he would get his revenge.
Was there anything more humiliating?
Me.
Rendered powerless.
He flexed his hands, wishing he had his wand, but it was nowhere to be seen. Despite its absence, the questions continued to come.
How had he gotten here? Who had that kind of skill--he wasn't a victim nor was he easy prey. No, he did the hunting. The capturing.
The killing.
He raked his mind but could recall nothing. Now how he got here, or who alive had the skill and more importantly the stupidity to challenge him. The most powerful witches and wizards of the previous generation--his father's generation--had been nearly wiped out from the war. His own generation saw a number of losses, the most publicized cases being Potter. Weasley. The now famous Order of the Phoenix had but a handful of survivors.
Draco clenched his fists.
He hung his head, remaining very, very still. And in doing was able to see that not only was his pale skin covered in blood--but he was also completely nude.
Nudity did not alarm him; there had been a number of incidents throughout his adolescence where he was forced to engage foes in various states of undress--they liked to strike when one was most vulnerable--and what better way to achieve a quick kill then to go after someone when they slept, or while they bathed. He should know. He employed those same tactics himself, albeit better than his enemies.
But what did bother him were the number of tattoos, in black ink, winding up both sides from hip bone to chest bone. They were intricate designs, with etchings in what appeared to be some kind of ancient language.
What the fuck?
He lifted his arms, turning slightly to study the designs. This was new because you didn't not notice a tattoo, especially one of this size.
He briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. These tattoos could mean anything and his greatest fear was that they contained some kind of curse, or even wore, placed limits on his power. Such spells were rare and to find someone with the skill was even rarer. It was also an entirely illegal dark art and had been for centuries.
If he kept a level head, he might figure this out.
Unfortunately, patience was never one of his strong points.
'What the fuck,' he hissed, tossing back a mane of long, white-blond hair.
Someone whimpered.
Jerking his head up, he froze, listening, but heard nothing. So he squinted, peering into the darkness, and narrowed his eyes.
There was a small figure huddling in the farthest corner from him, beneath layers of filthy rags.
A kid?
That was his first thought.
'Who are you?' He snapped, surprised by the raspy tone of his voice.
But before he could process that he was slammed by a burning thirst. It was like fire.
When was the last time he had water, let alone ate?
The child had to know, at the very least, who put them here. Or fed them.
And if not...at the very least he could release his barely controlled anger. Some said he was more sadistic than his father, and maybe they were correct. Malfoy needed to release this anger. Who was he to know why the screams of agony others made filled him with pleasure?
He rose, stalking the huddling form like some kind of animal seeking out its prey.
'Do-d-don't h-hurt me! Please!'
That only made him want to hurt her more, because it was most definitely a 'she'.
He ripped away the dirty blanket wrapped around her before lifting her by her neck like she were nothing. She was nothing, he coldly thought. A filthy thing. But what surprised him most was the fact that he recognized this child.
'Granger?' It came out accusatory, as if somehow she were the reason behind all of this.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Strange, because Granger never avoided eye contact. It was a habit of hers that infuriated him because she was a mudblood. He barely tolerated sharing the same education with her, but to look him in the eye was the height of disrespect.
Which begged the same question--what the FUCK was going on? He liked a cowering Granger but he also needed some answers.
'D-don't hurt me!' She begged again, her voice uneven and raw.
'Granger, tell me the reason you and I are here....'His gaze trailed down, noting that just like him she was naked only unlike him her body looked as if it had taken a brutal beating. Bruises covered her from head to toe, blood was smeared, and she had a number of scratches and bite-like marks.
'...and let me just say that I applaud the lucky person responsible for this beautiful piece of brutality. Give me their name so I can thank them. Even assist them next time.' To make sure his point sunk in he leaned forward, their faces only a hairs breath away, and he whispered, 'Tell me the truth, and I might reconsider finishing where whoever fucked you up left off. Come on,' he leaned closer so that their faces almost touched, 'I know you like to be the one with all the answers.'
Granger continued to whimper and whine.
Disgusted he finally released her. How ironic that the only time he wanted to hear her explain something she was struck dumb. By fear, by him, who the hell knew.
He ran a hand threw his hair and ignored the ugly picture she presented. She landed in a tangle of limbs but instead of remaining where she landed, she instead snatched the soiled cloth and wrapped it about herself before scuttling back to her corner.
'Stop toying with me!' She screamed hoarsely, 'Please just stop it all ready. I promise...I swear I won't tell.'
He raised one disdainful eyebrow. He was both amazed and irritated by her bravery, 'I ordered you to give me an explanation. Must I break every bone in your pathetic mudblood body before you give me what I want?'
His tone was neutral, but she took it seriously. And that was satisfying.
Her eyes widened and she whimpered yet again, throwing her hands over her head as if that might somehow protect her. In doing so the blanket fell, exposing her naked breasts--small and perky--to his eyes.
Filthy, ugly, mudblood whore--
Touch. Touch. Want to touch.
He reeled back, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water on him. He looked around, but there was no one talking. No one spoke.
Touch. Go touch.
He immediately hurried to the farthest side of the cell and in doing so he put as much distance between himself and Granger as physically possible.
And tried to make sense of a situation that seemed to become more and more insane by the minute.
Why the fuck would he think those things? Not in a million years, not even for all the gold in the world, not even for the sake of the dark lord, would he ever soil himself with her. She was disgusting, she was a polluted toxic mudblood--
Not filthy. Touch. Go touch.
He slapped his hands to his head, focusing hard on silencing that strange, smooth voice in his head that was his but also wasn't his. This was fucking madness.
Clearly he had suffered a serious brain energy, and he was now losing his mind. It happened. Perhaps he had been bespelled--
Want. Take.
Horrified, he felt his body begin to move of its own accord, towards Granger even as it began to show all the signs of burgeoning desire. He actually felt his cock begin to stir as blood rushed to his groin.
'STOP IT!' He screamed, falling to his knees.
A white hot pain lanced through his skull and for a moment he felt as if he might vomit. The more he concentrated on silencing the voice, the more he suffered.
It seemed as if an eternity passed until finally he achieved a measure of stability. There were lingering signs of what he interpreted as a traumatic experience-- his ears rang and he was unsteady on his feet. Dizziness eventually prompted him to lean against the rough stone.
This was somebody's sick joke. Whoever put him here seemed to have some kind of twisted agenda. Which meant he would have to kill Granger. No problem there. He had spent the better part of seven years plotting her death. Everything from a quick end to a slow, agonizing torture.
He stalked towards her, and as if sensing his motive she curled up into a little ball, trembling like a leaf.
Malfoy was just about to strangle her when a sharp voice interrupted him.
'You still have not finished?'
A voice he knew very, very well.
Turning, he stared at his mother. She stood outside of the cell, arms crossed over her chest. Looking the exact opposite of how he appeared: calm, collected, clean and clothed.
No fucking way.
His mind raced a mile a minute as he tried to make sense of this latest turn of the screw--His mother? Was in on this?
In a surprisingly calm voice, he asked:
'Will you tell me what in god's name is going on?'
He abandoned Granger, ignoring his nudity. That could wait until later. And then he realized where he was. The manor dungeons. His dungeons. Why hadn't he recognized his own home's dungeon?
But then it looked different when you were the prisoner.
I am going to get out. I am going to kill my mother. And then Granger.
With a patience he firmly believed was meant to irritate him further, she ignored his questions and instead studied the marks on his body before sighing as if he had done something wrong, 'I would have thought you would be finished by now. It's been nearly two days.'
TWO DAYS???!!!!
He reeled, as if struck. He had no memory of that. He had very little of anything. Which frightened him.
But fear quickly gave way to anger.
He took a steadying breath. It would not suit him to blow up, and he needed to know what was going on if he was going to move forward.
Or you could go fuck Mine, that insidious voice whispered in the back of his mind, make it feel so good...
He bit the inside of his cheek and squeezed the bars not for control but to steady himself.
In the calmest voice he possessed, he politely inquired, 'Please explain, because I admit that I am rather confused.'
Narcissa Malfoy raised one pale eyebrow, 'Why the bonding ritual of course. My son, are you truly so opposed to this that you would suppress the instinct?'
He rattled the bars, his ability to use wandless magic creating a whirlwind breeze that ruffled his hair and finally her composure. She wisely took a step back.
She was afraid. But not of him, 'Draco, you need to stop ignoring reality and embrace the damn truth!'
Narcissa leaned forward, sneering, 'If the ritual is not complete you will die, and all of the sacrifices we have made--covering up your shameful acts, including her abduction will all be for naught! The Ministry will forgive your crimes against that girl and the others if you are a Veela--but the only proof we have is if you complete the ritual you initiated! Quit feigning ignorance, or face the Dementor's Kiss! Your choice.' She took a steadying breath, adjusting her hair in the process, 'Of course none of this would have happened if things had gone another way...'
They both knew she referred to the war, in which they cast their allegiance with the correct but losing side. But that was beside the point.
'Forgive me, but I do not understand.' He gave her his most dazzling--and annoying--smile. There was no way in hell he was veela, just as their was no way in hell he would let his cock exist within a piece of trash like Granger. Clearly his mother had lost her mind, and his mind was already racing to persuade her otherwise.
'...we have used everything, including salvaging what is left of the Malfoy name. But I warn you my son I am finished with you and your father's games. Finish it, or you will find yourself alone and facing the Kiss.'
She angrily spun on her heel and stormed away, leaving him--and Granger--alone.
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Deception