Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Squirm	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 28992 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
So, I've been sick. Like, coughing, fever, chills, chest pains, vomitting kind of sick. I took my first sick day off in 3 years kind of sick. That's why it's taken me so long to update, and I want to thank everyone for their patience.
Down the rabit hole we go.
~A.
Inhale. Yessss… this feels… exhale. Perfect. Fucking perfect.
My fingers twitch, and my body is my own again, I fight back the demonic smirk I so want to give and train my eyes on Weasley, who curls his lengthy, pale fingers around Hermione's wrist, smudging my gifted bracelet in the process. His eyes glare expectantly at Hermione.
"Well?" he says, pressing his chest against her hand. Her fingers splay in a starburst design across his pectorals, and I'm tempted to break Weasley's hand. Patience, I tell myself. Formulate a plan, first. Slytherins aren't known for charging in with guns blazing; we much prefer to sneak in through the back gate.
Hermione trails her pretty, pink tongue across her bottom lip and knits her eyebrows together. "You're going to have to trust me on this one. You're making it worse."
"Making what worse?" his voice cracks. "Tell me, 'Mione."
I can't help myself. I'll be damned if I hear that infuriating nickname again. "Her name isn't 'Mione," I bite, tearing at each word. "It's Hermione, you benighted fool."
"It speaks." Weasley meets my glare, once again having the audacity to stare at me as if I'm beneath him. Just you wait, Weasley. The tables will turn soon enough.
"Draco…?" Hermione whispers, and to my relief, she jerks her hand away from the troll-faced oaf and crouches down to my side. "Are you… you?"
I blink once, twice, three times, formulating my best impression of the self I am in public, mixed with the timid imbecile I've allowed myself to become. I'm quite convincing as I break out into an 'unsure' smile and reach up, cupping her cheeks with my hands. "Yeah. I'm me." It's perfection to see her melt against my touch, relief flooding her features.
Weasley clears his throat to our left, unpleased. Fuck him. He'll get his soon enough. Just to rub it in his ugly face, I draw Hermione closer to me, managing a few useless tears for extra effect. As I blink, they fall down my cheeks, and Hermione wipes them away; my own personal moth to a flame.
"Did you hear a voice?" Hermione asks me.
I give a practiced, distant expression. "No. Just the voices from The Veil."
"Would you two mind clueing me in?" Weasley takes a step forward. "Seriously… all of this is giving me the creeps."
"Ronald! Be a tree for a moment and pretend you can't speak!" Hermione snaps. Her attention immediately turns to me. "That's impossible. You should have heard your Dybbuk."
I flinch, ready for the pain, but it doesn't come. Nothing. Not a damn thing. Hermione and I share brief, quizzical glances, and then, before I know what's happened, -zappp! "Fuck!" I'm blasted back twenty feet, my body barrelling off the platform and down the stone steps leading toward the door. All I see is red for half a moment, but the next, my wand is drawn, and I'm crouched on my knees, one hand wiping away the blood from my lips.
A bombarding spell. Clever little bint. -Out of the corner of my eye, Weasley readies a spell. "Accio wand!" His wand flies from his hand and lands in mine. The smirk on my face is prominent as I push myself up to stand, rubbing the sore muscles in my neck. "Now that wasn't very nice, love. After all I've done for you… how'd you figure it out?"
"The only reason the word Dybbuk loses power is if you've given it complete control." Hermione gives a disheartened sigh, a crease working between her brows. "Why, Draco? Why would you do it?"
"You really have to ask?" I sneer back, gesturing toward her red-headed counterpart. "Did you think I wouldn't find out about your little tryst with Weasley? I saw the text messages. You've been talking to him about everything behind my back-"
"-you know that isn't true!" she shouts back. "I haven't hidden a thing from you! Why would I talk about everything so openly with Ron in front of you if I-"
"-Don't." I point my wand at Weasley, threatening. "Don't fucking say his name, or I'll blast him into the fucking Veil."
Hermione motions one hand up in peace. "Easy."
"Do you care about him?"
"He's my best friend. Of course, I care."
"You know what I mean. - Do you love him?"
Slowly, she says, "That's a complicated question, Draco."
"No, love. It really isn't. - Weasley, I swear to fucking Merlin himself if you take one more step, I will rip out your tongue and feed it to you."
Weasley stops his careful sidestep toward Hermione, palms out. "Alright, Malfoy. Alright." He's using his Auror training to seem friendly, but we both know it's a ruse. "Just tell us what you want."
A conflict rises within me. What do I want? I want to watch the two of them suffer. I also want out of the Ministry alive, without the Auror Division becoming aware of the situation at hand. It's obvious I can't leave Weasley to his own devices, and I can't trust Hermione anymore. But to kill them would mean putting a target on my back. Still, they deserve tribulation…
With a smirk, I Disapparate and reappear directly behind Hermione, pressing the tip of my wand to her throat. She jumps in surprise, but I slink a hand tight around her middle and hold her against me. Weasley pales as he realizes the gravity of the situation. "Stupid Granger," I whisper against her cheek, "did you really think you had any power over me?"
"Malfoy, let her go!" Weasley shouts.
"Or what? Hmm? What will you do?" I flash my daunting, gray eyes in his direction. "Just how far would you go for your precious little bookworm, Weasel-bee?"
"I said leave her alone!"
"Draco, please," Hermione whispers. "Fight this."
"On your knees, Weasley. Hands on your head, or it'll be Hermione on her knees… and I'm fairly certain you won't like that as much." Hermione stirs in my grasp, so I light the tip of my wand in warning, burning a small circle into her skin. She winces, but she stills, compliant. I pull her back, one step closer to the Veil. "Hurry now. Decisions, decisions…"
Like the beta subservient he was always meant to be, Weasley falls to his knees, hands high above his head before he places them on the back of his skull. There's still a hatred burning in those stale blue irises, but I have no doubt that by the end of the night, I will break him. Break him like I've always known I could. And I'll do it with Hermione by my side, underneath me. I'll break her too, and then I'll pour my darkness into her.
"Wonderful." I turn my wand on him. "Imperio."
"-No!" Hermione gasps, but it's too late. Weasley's eyes gloss over in a softened expression, and then it's as if he isn't there at all. A smile greets us.
"Lead us out of here."
Weasley nods, blissfully unaware. "Sure - Can I stand up now?"
I roll my eyes. "Yes, yes. Go on."
"Please, don't do this," Hermione whispers to me. "This is all my fault. Please, just leave Ron out of this. He was just trying to-"
"-just trying to get in between us. And you let him. Congratulations, now you pay the piper. -Weasley!" I toss his wand back to him. "If she tries anything remotely suspicious, Avada yourself."
"Yessir!"
I'm half-tempted to have my way with Hermione here and now, but my priority for my life grossly overshadows my primal need to copulate. I shove her forward and allow Weasley to guide us away from The Veil's presence. The whispers cry out to me, but I barely hear their call. I have no need to worry about them any longer. I see my true purpose now, and it's with him. My beast. My bloody monster.
We step out into the black tiled room filled with doors. "Wait," I say, snatching Hermione by the wrist and turning her to face me. There's burning anger etched within her betrayed expression, and it brings me great joy to know I put it there. Weasley stands with his back to us, compliant and unaware. "The book, Granger. I'll be needing it."
Hermione stands her ground, eyebrows pulled together in pure frustration. I yank the book from her shaking hand and stow it back within my robes for safe keeping.
"Thank you."
"You don't have to do this," she says with raspy breath. "If you fight it, you can gain control again-" she stops speaking when I lean in close, tucking my nose into her curls to inhale her scent. Fear is distinct, and it smells divine. She reeks of it as I slide my wand down her side, resting it at her hip.
"Oh, Hermione. I really do. You've left me no choice."
"If you'd let me explain…" Her eyes plead with me as my nose glides across her cheek and rests against her own. Silver eyes glisten into brown; it's a showdown, but we both know who fate will side with.
"Be a good girl and keep quiet, now. Wouldn't want your boyfriend to meet the end of a deadly curse, would you?"
"He's not my boyfriend," she seethes at me. "You know that! Draco, snap out of it!"
Apparently, she doesn't understand the severity of the situation. So, I take it upon myself, backing up a few paces and removing a pocket knife from my robes - one can never be too prepared when it comes to who you might murder on the go. "Weasley, come here." The redheaded giant turns and gleefully obeys. I hand him the knife, smiling at Hermione. I've never seen her so nervous before; I like it. "The next time Hermione speaks without permission, I want you to carve out your eye and eat it."
Weasley takes the knife and nods. "Sure. Which one?"
"Good question. Which do you prefer, Granger? The right or the left? They're both rather dull to me."
Hermione stands like a statue, her mouth shut tight, though I can tell it takes everything within her not to make some snarky comment. Satisfied, I give a mock clap.
"Great. You took the lesson to heart. Such a teacher's pet. Shall we continue, then? - And Weasley, stow that thing away for now. Wouldn't want to draw unwanted attention." He dutifully does as asked and takes point again, leading us through a black door to our left. We take the elevators up to the main lobby, turn in my badge, and joyfully make it to the guest floos. Now, what to do with Weasley… I suppose he'll have to come to the Manor with us. We each step through different floos, seemingly to arrive at different locations, but when I step out of the green flames again, I'm greeted by two pairs of eyes. My gaze falls on Hermione, who has already drawn her wand. "Oh, come now," I taunt, "we both know you won't use it. Any little word out of bounds lands your friend without an eye, and any suspicious activity, like nonverbal magic, leaves him six feet under. Really, you might as well just hand it to me."
There's only so much one pair of eyes can convey, but her eyes never disappoint; there's anger, resentment, plotting and sadness within the same expression. Defeated, she turns the wand around, extending the hilt to me. I take it, smirking, and toss it into the flames. The hissing of the fire vibrates the scream of magic her wand releases - it looks physically painful for her to watch her tool crack and pop, burning before her eyes.
"Right. On to better things…."
Controlled by my thoughts, Weasley removes his Ministry-regulation magic dampening cuffs from his belt and clamps them around Hermione's wrists. She winces, and I know why; a pinch shoots through one's body when one's magic has been doused. I experienced this myself after the War, awaiting my trial. Uncomfortable as it is, that's the least of her worries right now.
"Feel free to speak freely, now. No consequences," I smirk, strolling over to pour myself a glass of scotch. "Thirsty?"
"Go to Hell."
"We're already there, sweetheart. Take a look around." I kick back my first shot and release a satisfied chuckle. "I'm ever so excited. So many possibilities… first thing's first, though. Weasley… put your hand in the fire."
"Alright!" he says, leaping into action. Hermione watches in horror as he approaches the fireplace. "How long?"
"Did I give you a time frame?" I raise a calculated eyebrow. "Until I say."
"Sure."
"Wait!" Hermione shrieks as Weasley extends his hand out. "Don't do this! Please!"
I give an unentertained yawn and pretend to observe my nails as the fire laps at his fingertips.
"Draco, stop! What do you want? I'll give you whatever you want, just don't make him-"
My hand waves, and Weasley withdraws his hand completely. I lick my lips as I eye a quivering, crestfallen Hermione Granger glaring daggers at me in my study. Oh, how I relish in her begging. It's music to my ears, but I'm not a fool. She's nowhere near broken yet. However, I have just the thing to fix that.
"Whatever I want - is that right?" My head cocks to the side as I think up all of the wonderful things I want to do to her right now. "I like the sound of that." I pour myself another glass, kick it back, and curl one finger in her direction, beckoning her. "Those clothes look entirely too tight. I think you need out of them."
Next chapter gets realllllly dark. You've been warned.
~A.
- 22
- 23
- 24
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