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His Relinquishment	By : lexiatel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 70407 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Jk Rowling, I do not make any profit in writing this story what so ever. I am just having some fun.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
AN: Um, this chapter is... very, very dark. *pokes the warnings*
My grandma's moving in. Updates will very much likely slow down. This chapter is extra long though so... um... enjoy (if you can, given its contents).

"We should use the rest of this day to sleep," Zabini advised after Malfoy had landed next to him. He thumbed up at an ancient looking brick building they stood nearby. "Darlene's Bread and Breakfast. I've been here before, it's nothing like home, but it's decent enough."
Malfoy simply glanced up at it and gave a nod. His grip on Hermione's upper arm tightened and he pulled her along, following Zabini and the woman accompanying them (who Hermione faintly remembered as his wife) into the building.
They rented two rooms next to one another with a door between them to allow them access to the other's room.
"You sure you don't want me to watch over your wand?" Zabini asked as they stood outside the doors to their rooms. He sent Hermione a look that said he didn't trust her.
"She'll not do anything stupid." Malfoy tilted his head at her, sending her a sneer. "Will you?"
Hermione stiffened and pulled loose from his hand. "Not if you stop treating me like some bloody dog."
His eyes narrowed but he said nothing and opened the door to their room. He pointed his wand into it, gesturing her inside. "In." His tone was low, and not of one to argue with.
With her head held up, she looked straight ahead into the room, purposely avoiding his eyes. She squeezed past him, making sure their bodies didn't touch and walked into the room, stopping in the center of it.
It was a really nice room, elegantly decorated with gold and purple. It had body sized mirrors, an equipped kitchenette, complete with real dishes, and stuff to make coffee and tea with. There was even an ice box, and Hermione assumed, with as nice as this place was, it may have even been stocked with food.
It had only one bed, big enough for two people, but Hermione would sleep on the floor before she slept side by side to Malfoy. She shuddered at the thought. Not that he would think differently about her. Or even offer her the bed. He'd make her sleep on the floor, she'd bet.
The room instantly heated right after her shuddering. Hermione could tell by the energy it put off that it had been done by a spell. She looked at Malfoy, knowing he had turned the heat up. He was unloading a bag of his, his wand firmly held in his hand as he did so. He would occasionally send her a scowl or a glare, and every minute or so, he muttered something under his breath.
"Sit down, Granger," Malfoy ordered grumpily, sorting things on a polished, pine, round table. It was crowded with all sorts of things: food, drinks, toiletries, clothing, towels, potions, and other things he had packed for his travel. "I'd prefer you not to stand."
"Does it make you nervous when I stand?" she jeered.
He flicked his wand lazily at her without pausing his task. He hadn't even looked at her while doing it. Her mouth clamped shut and she felt the tip of her tongue roll back into the deep of her throat. She gagged, struggling to breathe.
"Sit down," he drawled with a bored tone. "Or you will pass out from lack of air."
There were tears in her eyes as the need to breathe overwhelmed her. She could see stars form in her vision. Her lungs burned. She closed her eyes, concentrating on breaking the spell, but the gagging was much too distracting. She couldn't think straight.
"You are actually willing to put yourself under such stress than just to sit in a bloody chair?" he asked a moment later.
Her face scrunched up and her knees gave out. Hermione stuck her fingers up at the seam of her mouth, trying to pry it open with her fingers. It was no use. Everything was fading around her. She could no longer see, and she couldn't hear either. All feeling left.
"Wake up!"
Hermione's hand flew up to her face to comfort the sudden sting at her cheek. Malfoy stood above her, scowling down at her. She made to get up from the large arm chair that she was in, but her bottom was stuck to it. He must had put her here.
She let out a shriek when he snatched a handful of her hair at the top of her head. "You'll do as I say, do you understand me?!" he growled threateningly.
Hermione squirmed from his hold. Her hands found his face, and pushed at it. "Let me go!" she cried.
Malfoy tilted her head up to look at him. "You gave me your word," he snarled slowly. "Do not make me waste my time to go back and kill them, because I will do it. You know I will."
That got her attention. "I never said I'd do whatever you said though!" she argued.
"Your compliance is already a given, considering your position as my slave." He tugged at her hair. Hard. She gasped out in agony, biting her lip, suppressing a cry. "You will either obey what I command of you on your own accord, or I will force you to, and trust me when I say this, Mudblood, I am in a terrible mood right now. You sincerely do not want me to lose my temper. As it is, I've had to take a few bloody potions to stop myself from literally slitting your useless, disgusting throat."
Hermione froze up on his threat. His eyes told her that he was dead serious.
"I've your attention then?" he spoke calmly. "Good. Now remove your hands from me or I shall break them, one bone at a time."
Hermione dropped them to her lap, hooking them together. Her eyes didn't leave his stormy, cold ones.
His lip curled, not even smug with himself that she had followed an actual direct order of his. He shoved her head into the back of the chair and freed her bit of hair that he had been clutching a hold of. Malfoy straightened up from where he had bent over her and looked back at the table of stuff. He flicked his wand and many of the items separated off into different directions to be put away in appropriate areas of the room. Clothing in a dresser, potions on a shelf across the room, toiletries in the bathroom, and so on. With another flick, food started preparing itself in the little kitchenette.
"We'll eat in a few moments."
"You can cook?"
His head snapped at her, giving her a dark look. "Do not speak unless I ask you a question," he seethed. "Or I shall cut your fucking tongue out and feed it to you."
She swallowed hard. Her stomach burbled sickly at the thought of being forced to eat her tongue— and he'd make her do it too! She didn't doubt that a bit.
Once the food was cooked, he shoved a plateful of it into her lap, demanding that she eat it. As with the fact that he could cook, she was also surprised with how decent it looked. And it didn't taste half bad either. The roasted chicken had a tasty rosemary herbal flavour, and the side of potatoes were delectably creamy. There was also a mixture of steamed vegetables.
Malfoy ate quietly at the table, spending most of the time staring at the top of it. He did not pause to savour the taste as she had (besides the dinner at Louella and Kota's, Hermione had been eating relatively bland food for nearly week. This was a delightful change, and even if she was a captive, Hermione had enjoyed the meal).
Malfoy appeared to be lost in his thoughts.
When he had finished, he got up and rinsed his plate at the sink. He dried his hands with a towel and turned to find her watching him. "Are you still hungry?" he asked evenly.
While he showed no concern or care for her, Malfoy's question did puzzle her. Why would he consider her discomfort at all?
"No," she simply answered when his eyes had narrowed after she took too long in responding.
"Give me your plate." She held it out for him to take and he walked to her, roughly taking it from her so he could rinse that one off too.
"I'm not helpless," she informed him. "I can do that myself—" Her mouth closed tightly, she silently whimpered as her teeth bit into the edge of her tongue.
"I told you, I don't want you to speak," Malfoy explained his spell casting. "You will stay there while I shower. When I come out, you best still be there." He disappeared into the bathroom then.
Malfoy confused her. What he was doing made no sense. Why treat her like absolute hippogriff dung one moment, and in the next, wait on her, as if he was some server at a restaurant? Hermione would had thought he would had made her do that all. He did consider her his slave, after all.
She used Malfoy's shower time to attempt to remove his sticking charm, but all it did was wear her out. She wasn't trying to escape anyhow, but didn't like being confined into one place. She anxiously tapped her fingers to the arms of the chair, wondering if Malfoy would release her from the spell when he came out.
Probably not. But she could hope.
Malfoy came out of the bathroom a bit later. Steam and male body fragrance emerged with him, permeating the air. He paid her little attention, stalking to the shelf where the potions had been put, and grabbing himself quite a few. Some she recognized. Energy replenishers, anti-anxiety, anti-nausea, and one to aid in sleep. There were three she didn't know what they were though.
When he had taken his many potions, Hermione felt his spell lift. She wiggled around, trying to bring circulation back to her bum after being in one position for far too long.
"Go bathe," he ordered, busying himself with a local wizard newspaper. "Scrub hard. You must be presentable for the Dark Lord tomorrow."
Hermione's eyes widened in terror. She didn't want to see him again. Horrors of what he had done to Samual plagued her mind.
Tears filled her eyes and she swallowed a sob.
"I didn't stutter, Granger!" Malfoy barked from his chair at the table. His nostrils were flared. "Move it, now!" He rose out of the chair, balling up his hands into fist. "Unless, you want me to clean you myself?! Do you remember last time?!"
Hermione sprinted into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She panted in fear, concerned about what was going to happen when Malfoy brought her to Voldemort. She cupped a hand over her mouth, squeezing tears out her eyes. Her heart felt like it was trying to bash its way out. The thudding of her pulse was so loud, that that was all her ears could hear.
She ran the bath water as millions of questions swirled inside her head. What did they even want with her? The war was over, she wasn't needed for information on Harry anymore. She just couldn't understand why they would waste their time on her.
She should be dead like the rest of them. Why was she so bloody special?!
She dressed in an old fashioned night dress that Malfoy had left for her to wear for that night. She had a feeling that if she refused to wear it, he'd blow up at her.
After she was through with the bath, Malfoy checked her over and seemed content with her appearance (as content as Malfoy would ever be, at least). He gave her several potions to drink, many of them were the same ones he had taken himself. She didn't argue as he thrust them one by one into her hand, watching her closely to ensure she took everyone last one. He then announced that she would sleep in the armchair, while he claimed the bed. She had expected he'd get the bed, but was shocked that he hadn't made her sleep in the corner of the room on the floor.
And she was relieved by it.
He tossed her a blanket and told her to close her eyes and get some sleep. "We'll need it," he said as he buried himself under a pile of blankets.
And just as soon as she shut her eyes, she felt the tug of sleep pull her mind into a dreamless, unconscious daze.
*/*
"Get on the broom, Granger!" Malfoy demanded, pulling her to him.
Hermione shook. She hated heights, and after learning that they would make a 5,000 mile travel on a high speed broom, she freaked. "No, I can't!" It would be a long, cold, and frightening ride, all the while, with Malfoy behind her, steering the broom, and cursing her out, no doubt.
He raised his wand to her and she pleaded for him to reason, but he didn't listen. Instead, he magically forced her to straddle the broom handle and lean back into his chest. He only released her from the imperius curse once they were hundreds of feet up in the sky where the air was thick and cold.
Hermione screamed and shut her eyes, wrapping her legs tightly around each other to secure her to the broom.
"I'm insulted, Mudblood," Malfoy shouted at her to be heard over the whistle of the wind as he and Zabini raced through the grey, wintery sky. "You don't trust my flying!"
"I don't trust anyone's flying!" she shrieked truthfully. She let out another scream as he purposely took a nosedive to the ground beneath them. He snickered in her ear and she unthinkingly squirmed closer to him.
"You're a riot, I give you that." Hermione heard Malfoy say.
She nearly threw up as her stomach flip flopped from how verticle they were with the Earth now. The ground couldn't have been even thirty feet below. If Malfoy didn't change direction, they'd crash!
"Don't Malfoy!" she pleaded. "Pull up!"
He whipped a hard right. Then upward, and spun them around in circles extremely fast. So fast that Hermione hiccupped and choked on a bit of vomit. Malfoy hooted as if he was a young boy, having the time of his life. An arm looped around her as her loud, high scream pierced the air. He held her tight, tucking his face into her back, blocking the freezing wind chill from his face.
"You're alright, Mudblood," he announced dryly when he was done messing around. She shivered from fright and cold, her teeth chattering. She swallowed down a threatening ball of bile.
"Are you cold?" he asked. His voice hung with mild concern, and she shivered more as she felt heat radiate off his body into her back. "You'll feel better in a few minutes."
"Why are you doing this?" She had turned her head to ask him, hoping to get a glimpse of his face from out of the corner of her eye, but to no avail.
His fingers dug painfully into her ribs. Hermione winced. Her answer never came.
It puzzled her how one moment he could be almost human, and the next he was an angry beast, craving to cause her harm. Only he didn't fatally harm her. He said he wanted to, said he would be delighted to physically kill her. But he didn't.
Malfoy didn't want her, but Hermione was beginning to wonder if he even had a choice in the matter. He had told her that they would both die if they didn't return back to Britain. He had searched for her without stopping a moment. He had even brought a friend along to help. Could it be that her escape had gotten him in trouble with Voldemort? But why would Voldemort care about what happened to her? He had given her to Malfoy. Wouldn't that mean Malfoy could do whatever he wanted with her?
They traveled for many hours on the broom. For so many that her bum was numb from lack of circulation, and her knees were sore from her legs dangling.
Finally, they landed, and Zabini gathered the brooms to take them to a broom rental shop. Hermione took this time to stretch her body. Malfoy stuck close to her, his wand was always out, and he kept a close eye on her, as if afraid she'd slip out of sight any chance she got.
Well, she probably would have, but the threat of him torturing her lastest friends to death still lingered. And she had promised him she would come willingly and quietly. All without a fight. He had kept his word. Breaking hers would only make things worse. And things were bad enough as it was.
Zabini brought them back cups of soups to warm up with. They stood around, sipping their lunch.
Malfoy then informed them that they would apparate the rest of the way home. He confirmed this with Zabini, seemingly asking him with a look if this was okay to do. The dark man nodded and looped an arm around his wife.
"We're apparating, Mudblood," Malfoy announced, and before Hermione realized it, he had grabbed her wrist and sucked the air right out of her lungs from the spell he cast.
She was a little dizzy when they landed, but the feeling quickly faded. Her heart hammered when she realized where Malfoy had taken her.
She knew this area well. They were at Hogwarts. In the dungeons.
She swallowed hard.
This is where Voldemort lived now.
Maybe I'll get answers today, the curious and optimistic side of her mind thought encouragingly.
Or perhaps she'd be crucio'ed to death.
Malfoy was also nervous with this visit (or was it a meeting?). He paced back and forth, taking three or four steps before turning back around and repeating the process. He cleared his throat countless of times and rubbed at the throat of his neck. He then stopped, catching her watching him. His eyes were serious. Hermione could see fear in them. He lunged at her, making her yelp.
"Quiet!" he snapped, grabbing her upper arms."Listen to me!" He shook her violently. "You hear me?! Listen!" Hermione nodded slowly, acknowledging his words. "You've seen nothing yet on what the Dark Lord is capable of. I don't exactly know what's going to happen today, but you need to know that this is all your fucking fault. If we even make it out of here alive, you must understand that there cannot be a next time. You will learn today why he is feared by many of us. And I promise you, Mudblood, I will be punishing you for getting my arse so deep into hot water with my Master, that you will consider yourself lucky if you ever see the sun rise again!"
He shoved her away from him. The back of her head smacked loudly against the door behind her and she let out a cry as the contact with the thick, wooden door brought a dull pain. She rubbed it and threw Malfoy a dirty look. She could already feel a lump forming.
The door behind her swung open and she nearly lost her balance, tipping backward.
"Ah," his quiet voice purred, sending Hermione's hair to raise at the back of her neck. "It is nice to see you again, Mudblood."
Hermione turned around, bravely addressing the monster who called himself the new leader of this part of the world. His red eyes pierced hers, instantly probing her mind. She moaned in immense weakness. It took all she could to keep standing. His mind intrusion sent a sharp pain to her head and she screamed.
"Have a seat," he offered softly, releasing her from his spell. He threw his arm up and she flew across the room, landing into a stiff, hard chair. "There's a few things you two need to address— isn't there, Draco?"
The said person had lowered himself to the stone flooring, bowing at the sick monster who he considered his master. "As it appears, My Lord," he stoically answered.
"Join your wife then, son."
"Your WHAT?!" Hermione's eyes fell down to her hand. She could faintly see the silver ring with the dim lighting in the room. She heard a soft chuckle coming from the other side of the desk. Voldemort stood, smiling amusingly down at her, watching her absorb his news.
"No, Mudblood, you are not his slave. You are in fact his wife." His eyes flickered darkly to Malfoy who had taken a seat in a chair of his own. Malfoy made no eye contact with Voldemort. He avoided Hermione's look too. "You will not blame her, Draco," Voldemort scolded him. "The fault is yours, not your wife's."
Hermione wrinkled her brow in confusion. "I don't... what...?!" She shook her head, trying to make sense of this. "Why?! I thought you supported blood purity?!"
Voldemort snickered. "Sometimes..." he paused for effect. "You just have to relent. Isn't that right, my servant?"
Malfoy finally looked at his master. His face lacked any emotion. Hermione couldn't read what he was thinking. He tipped his head forward ever so slightly that she barely seen it move. "You are always right, My Lord." His voice sounded as hollow as his face looked.
"I am," Voldemort agreed arrogantly. "Now, there's a matter to address, my children—" Hermione cringed when he implied that she was his child. "—and that is the consummation of your marriage."
"My Lord," Malfoy instantly said. "We are not ready—"
"If you had not chased her off, you would be! Physically, you are both just fine to perform the act. You will do it here, and you will do it now."
"Now?!" Malfoy squeaked.
Hermione remained silent, watching the exchange with wide eyes. She should had know this all along. The ring, the lack of being locked up in an actual cell or cage. Malfoy choosing of what she was to smell like, and what she was to wear. The healthy meals. The warm bed. The protection charm on the ring. His wishes to harm her, but never acting on it.
She was going to be made to carry his children. But why? Why not some perfect Pureblood witch instead?
"You do not need a bed, Draco. Don't peg me as a fool! Do it now!"
Hermione gulped at the cold tone Voldemort addressed Malfoy with. And she hurled herself out of the chair when Malfoy stood up and looked at her. There was no denying that he was going to do what had been commanded of him.
He was a loyal Death Eater after all.
Hermione looked at Malfoy, shaking. "Don't do this." She watched his adam's apple bob a couple times, before it stilled. His lips pressed together and he pointed his wand at her. It shook to his own trembling stance.
He did not want to do this.
"Don't make him do this," she pleaded Voldemort. She didn't remove her eyes from Malfoy. Neither moved from their spot, both thinking on what was about happen. "He doesn't want to! Can't you see?!"
"Every man wants to have sex," Voldemort murmured. "Especially with his wife. He needs to mark you now. And you, him, Mudblood."
"This is rape though—"
"Is it?" Voldemort made his way around the desk and swept quickly to her, backing her up against a wall. "Is it rape if you let your husband fuck you?" he gently hissed. He grinned. "You don't even know what rape feels like..." He pressed his wand to Hermione's face, searing her with the tip of it, making her yelp. Voldemort pressed his face to her cheek, and inhaled deeply. "You are a pretty smelling, little witch, aren't you?" The stench of his hot, moist breath made her cough on a gag. He traced a dirty, long fingernail along her chin, cutting a slit into her smooth skin. She whimpered. "I can give you an example of what rape is, my little Mudblood. Is that what you would prefer?" He set his hand to one of her breasts, roughly squeezing it.
"No!" she shrieked out in protest.
Voldemort growled. "Then you will please your husband!" He gripped her shoulder and threw her with a great force into the arms of Malfoy. She sunk to the ground, feeling all control leave her body, hearing Voldemort's hissing voice in her mind, ordering her to get on her knees and unbuckle Malfoy's belt.
She fought to gain back possession of her body, but the more she did, the louder his voice got. He was much more powerful than her, and she couldn't stop herself from taking Malfoy's soft, flimsy cock into her mouth. She gagged as his cock expanded in her mouth, filling the gap at the back of it. Her teeth sank into his sensitive flesh, raking against the length of his shaft, making him scream out in excruciating pain. Hermione's tongue grazed over the skin where her teeth had cut him, sucking on him, draining the blood from the scrapes, and swallowing it. It came back up as she choked on the horrid, bitter flavour.
'Swallow it, Lady Malfoy,' Voldemort's voice demanded in her head. She did so, with her eyes shut tightly, tears poking out from the corners of them.
Malfoy was panting. In pain, Hermione guessed. Maybe it was in pleasure. She wasn't sure. But his cock was getting bigger and harder with each few seconds she worked him. He was hissing though, but that could be a sign of pleasure too.
His cum fill her mouth, and she couldn't swallow it fast enough. She choked again. The semen erupted from her mouth and dribbed down her chin.
"Now make this Mudblood yours, Draco." Voldemort left her head and she could control herself again. Malfoy pulled her up by the arm. There was something inhuman about the stare he gave her. Hermione realized it was because Voldemort was controlling him now.
Hermione didn't even bother trying to plea him not to do it. Malfoy couldn't stop the monster from controlling his body no more than she had been able, but when he pushed her toward a wall, she tried fighting him. He was much too powerful though. He rose his wand at her, slamming her to the wall with a spell. She fought him as his hands ripped off her clothing, stripping it as if it were made of paper.
His fingers dug into her thigh and he gripped it, painfully propping her leg up to grant access to her core. The tip of him was at her entry now. She closed her eyes, praying for him to stop what he was doing, but she knew it was hopeless.
He slammed into her with no mercy, ripping her apart, shoving himself into her as deep as the length of him. The both of them screamed in agony, their spilled blood mixing together. Hermione tried pulling from him to get away, but Voldemort made Malfoy press her harder to the wall. "Be still, wife!" he hissed savagely, pounding into her roughly. His eyes were red now, no doubt from the curse he was under.
"I think you can finish on your own, Draco," Voldemort said from behind Malfoy.
Hermione winced and let out a moan as his movement stopped all together. Malfoy was panting. His jaw was clenched. His eyes were narrowed. He glared at the wall behind Hermione.
"Draco? Do I need to help you finish?"
"I will finish," the blond wizard stated through his clenched teeth.
Hermione sucked in a breath as he shifted his weight. His cock was no longer solid, she realized, but she was so tender in that area now, it didn't matter. It still hurt. A lot.
"Look at me, Granger," Malfoy snarled, cupping her face into his hands. She had no choice but to. He was performing wandless magic, forcing her to meet his glare.
Suddenly, upon looking into the depths of his cold, angry eyes, Hermione felt dizzy and lightheaded. All pain left her, just as if someone had healed her. She felt wonderful. Better than she had in years. It took her a moment to realize that Malfoy had proceeded with his thrusting. She heard him grunt under his breath. His face was buried into her neck, his breathing was fogging up her skin. His breath, she noticed, was a lot more pleasant than Voldemort's had been, smelling like... spearmint...!
Her eyes slid into the back of her head, relishing over the smell.
Malfoy pushed into her one last time before he paused deep into her, and exploded with a loud, audible moan. He was sweating with exhaustion, and breathing so hard, his chest was crashing against hers, constricting her own breathing. Then swiftly, he pulled out, making her wail at the stinging, sore pain of the hasty movement.
He stumbled away from her and doubled over, hurling his guts up noisily. A sob escaped his mouth.
Hermione slid down the wall and wept into her hands, traumatized by what just happened. The agony of her raw, torn flesh was almost too much. She smelled blood and other... things. Her hands were covered in it all. Her face was sticky from it all. Her legs were dripping with all kinds of bodily fluids.
She couldn't take it anymore. She fell forward in a heap, fainting.

Review Responses:
angel_baby_10: Yeah... we should...
veela916: Yep.... :(
pickles87: Okay, really, you don't need to be sorry. You're fine. :)
Bella Principessa: Nope, he wasn't kind to them at all...
Anna: Yes, it's here... :(
To the Guest: Well, they made it to chapter 11 anyway, heh.
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His Relinquishment