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You Won't Know	By : avatar006 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 30859 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or fandom, nor do I make any profit from these stories. If you have bought this fanfic or seen it posted anywhere else, you have been RIPPED.

Chapter List
- 1-You Won't Know
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 13
- 14
- 15
Ron sat in his cell, finding comfort in nothing and wishing he could stop the world from spinning.

He wasn’t drunk—far from it. Reality had never been this harsh; and it was frightening.

He had never felt so alone or so separate from anybody. People looked at him like he was a monster; and he heard the disgust in their voice when they transferred him to his cell: the vaguest comments were condescending and filled with that note of revulsion.

Many people believed he had done this, and he heard whispers of how he had taken his hands to Hermione—his pregnant wife—hours before the murder.

They believed him unstable, and they believed he had been doing this for years, no doubt—hurting Hermione. Wasn’t that the case of those with cruel lovers who hurt women?

Ron put his head in hands and willed himself not to cry.

Ginny had come to see him; she hadn’t been able to look at him, and Harry—the doubt was there.

His own friends¸ the very people he had fought beside for years, believed he had gone foul. Rotten.

He wanted Hermione, he wanted to tell her he was sorry—for not being there.

There was a noise—someone walking towards his cell, and he looked up to see Malfoy.

“What are you doing here?” Ron croaked.

Malfoy put his hands on the bars, “I want to know what happened. Potter won’t tell me anything.”

Ron looked at the ceiling, “You’re a judge—won’t it make me look bad?”

Malfoy sighed, “The way things stand, they’re going to throw you in prison—maybe Azkaban, and you won’t be able to see Hermione.” Lies, “Don’t you want to be there when your baby is born?”

Ron ran a hand through his hair, but did not move, “I don’t know what happened that night. I came home, and found her like that. I’d been out walking—trying to clear my head. Not a very good alibi, right?”

Malfoy grinned inwardly, “Why would she think you had done it?”

Ron clenched his hands into fists, “I don’t know. Hermione’s been acting strange lately. Maybe it’s the pregnancy—I don’t know. Someone hurt her—but it wasn’t mean—I would never hurt her—I love her. Whoever did that to her was a monster—and he’s still out there.”

Malfoy was irritated. Call me what you like, but I’m not wrong. She’s MINE. And soon, you won’t know up from down. Just wait Weasley, when all is revealed. I can’t wait to see that look on your face, when everything you’ve ever wanted is taken.

“Wait—“ Malfoy lowered his voice, “That could be the key. You say she’s—changed? How so?”

Ron frowned, “I don’t see how that is—“

“If you didn’t attack her, but she thinks you did, then maybe something isn’t right with her.”

Ron suddenly stood, then began pacing back and forth, “Where’s Hermione?”

“What?” Malfoy asked, Did he know something--?

“I think you might be right. I remember coming home a few times and thinking it wasn’t Hermione. Maybe we’re being tricked—wait, maybe that’s not the real Hermione? Could this be a giant set-up to get me in prison? I mean me and Hermione were great until this ‘other’ showed up and—“

Malfoy almost choked, No, still a fool.

“—wait, or maybe what tricked me is what tricked Hermione? Maybe it’s a dopplanger or something? Malfoy? Malfoy?”

Malfoy had been busy fantasizing what it would be like to cut Weasley’s tongue out—his voice was annoying, but he shook himself out of that fantasy.

“Will you be willing to share this testimony in court? I think it is vital to not having you put away in prison. In fact, I can promise you will not be sent to prison.”

“Of course.” Weasley was pacing again, his energy returned, “Thanks Malfoy—can you talk to Hermione about this?”

Malfoy smiled, “With pleasure.”

_______________

Hermione was like a ghost. Ginny and Harry left her alone, not so much out of concern but they themselves were also dealing with the trauma of Ron’s crimes. They could give no one comfort, least of all Hermione who was bemoaning something greater.

Malfoy had ordered her to meet him at her home, and so she had gone. Did she really have a choice? She could not counter her own word—and the evidence of ‘Ron’s’ assault. Investigator’s could find no sign of foul play or evidence that the charm had been broken—which made her wonder how Malfoy had gotten in.

But he was an excellent spell-caster; one of the best.

She sat in the living room of their small home, and felt deadened. Weak. She didn’t care about much other than Ron, who was so far away at the moment as to be a dream.

She had spent hours trying to find ways to get him out, but he would have to serve a sentence unless other evidence was discovered—she needed another person, and there was only Malfoy, whom she could not connect to the crime other than her word. But in between, Ron could wind up dead.

She knew Malfoy would deliver on that threat. He wasn’t…stable. The polished image he presented was a cutout of the late Malfoy, but underneath he was unstable, crazy—she sensed this was the real Draco. The one from school, the personality he had learned to disguise.

It was frightening. She could not be sure of anything, other than his desire to hurt Ron by using her.

The front door opened, and Draco Malfoy strode in, looking haughty and otherwise untouched. The way he usually looked. If this was two days ago she would have asked him to sit and made tea.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then turned to look at the wall.

Malfoy took the seat on the sofa across from her and crossed his legs, arms stretched out negligently. He looked lazy and comfortable, and put his head back, so all one could see was the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his chin.

“I paid a visit to Weasley today. He fancies that something…or someone…was involved in this escapade. Would you care to learn more?”

Hermione put her hands over her ears, trying to shut him out, but he kept speaking, and she heard him quite clearly.

“Unlike you, who immediately believed the worse of him, he toyed with the idea of you being responsible for this for only a minute. He immediately jumped to the idea that it could have been someone else.” Malfoy paused and lifted his head up, regarding her quivering form with silver eyes, “Ms. Granger, do you know what I think?”

Hermione had no idea what he thought, because he was unpredictable and certifiable insane.

“Come over her, and let me tell you.”

She glanced up, and saw the glint in his eyes, the pose that seemed to scream devil, devil, devil.

“I promise not to bite,” he cooed, and fluttered his eyes while pouting his lips—a move which would have looked ridiculous on most men but was alluring, and terrifying on him.

Hermione feared for her safety and looked around, but knew this was for Ron. Ron needed her. She would do this.

With great reluctance, she stood and walked over to Draco, who looked up at her with an expression that bordered between amusement and euphoria. He suddenly reminded her of the mad-hatter.

“Darling, sit down, please sit down.”

She gingerly did as he commanded, and it was a full minute of bone rattling silence, before he jerked her so hard against him that her teeth clicked together.

She was breathing heavily, and was crying. Crying, she wanted to run away but couldn’t.

Ron needed her, and she needed to be brave. Be strong. It was killing her, but she could do it.

While running his hands over her breasts, squeezing and groping, he whispered in her ear, “Tomorrow I have a wonderful surprise for you. Just you wait, you’re going to love it. Hermione, you like my surprises, don’t you?”

She didn’t know how to respond, and so he tugged her hair and repeated his question, “Do I have to punish you? Hermione do you never learn?”

“Wh-what?”

He ran his tongue up her throat and kissed her with a sickening adoration that made her skin crawl, “Do you imagine yourself a sacrifice, giving up everything for the one you love? You always forget you’ve done this many, many times before.”

She jerked back suddenly, and Draco, who had pulled her shirt down, pinched a nipple hard. It hurt.

“I want to be nice, but you don’t like it when I’m nice, do you Hermione?” His voice was rising with his anger, “You want me to hurt, don’t you? You like it when I do this—“ he tore her shirt open down the front, exposing her front and biting, biting her breast so hard she howled.

“And you love it when I do this,” He kicked the coffee table out of the way; it was amazing it didn’t splinter, and turned her over. He turned her onto her stomach so that she kneeled over the sofa and pulled down her pants, roughly, his nails tearing her skin.

“Oh my God,” She sobbed, trying to get away then, too scared to commit to her stalwart plan of rescuing, “Oh God—“

Malfoy had exposed her ass, was pushing her legs apart with his knees and was breathing heavily, “Yes Hermione, oh my God is right—“

He thrust into her pussy, and she grunted, shocked by how full she was, at the painful invasion, and the concept of Malfoy inside of her.

“—do you like it? It’s what you agreed to, remember that Hermione.” He was grunting, slamming into her with such force that she knew she would be bruised his fingers digging into her hips.

Her face was buried in her arms as she tried to ignore the building sensation—completely unwanted—as he assaulted her.

“always you behave this way, but in the end I’m the one who makes you cum, isn’t that true Hermione? I’m the one who gives you ecstasy, and I always let you forget because I care.”

Hermione was crying, begging for him to stop even as she came. He rode his orgasm to the end, and then leaned over her, breathing on her back.

“Sometimes I really fucking hate you,” He stroked her hair, her back, gently, “I want to hurt you sometimes Hermione,”

He sounded like a little boy and rested his head on her shoulders, “But I love you so much, I think. Don’t worry—” He kissed her back, “There won’t be any barriers soon.”

Hermione didn’t say anything; she just cried.
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