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
- 25
- 26
- 27
Here it is. Another chapter. Dark, dark, dark... but full of promise. Will there be a HEA for our couple? I have seen this question floating around a lot in the reviews. I'm never one to give away an ending. Just know, I feel satisfied with how it will end. Guess you'll have to see! Also, if you enjoy this horror, why aren't you reading my original story, "A Dandy World?" go to authoraetaylor dot com and start today!
~A.
Brief warning: More noncon. But just at the beginning.
I've had enough the games. I refuse to let some woman come between a good thing I have going. Our world was just fine before she came along, and it'll be fine when she's gone, too. Sure, being able to screw her brains out any time I want has been a huge perk, but I'm a good looking man -I can find another lamb to defile.
"It's your lucky day, mudblood," I torment, my cock still tucked away inside her tight little snatch. Admittedly, the prospect of my darkness being pushed back inside of me had me at half-mast for a moment, but finding control of my arm once again and watching Weasley bleed out in front of us has me ready to go in no time flat. "After I'm done fucking you, I'm going to give you a front row seat into Draco Malfoy's personal dungeon." My hips snap forward, again and again. One hand stays wrapped around her throat while the other moves to her nipples, alternating between them to give them harsh pulls and pinches. I feel her throat flex beneath my palm -she's screaming, but my silencio renders her soundless. I can feel the sweat roll down my forehead, can sense the build up coming to the top of my pleasure. "Such...a lovely... cunt you have…" Finally, I release all of my sexual frustration and fill her with my warm, sinful come. "Good bitch," I whisper into her ear, "I can feel him, you know. He's crying, just like you." I pull out and watch her drip with my essence. It's glorious, and it drives my lust in ways I didn't know existed. But it isn't a sexual lust - no, it's the prospect of finally having no filter with what I can do to Hermione Granger.
I remove the spell from her arms and toss her forward onto the table, ass up into the air and knees hanging precariously on the edge. Looking at her splayed cunt and knowing she is all mine sends shivers down my spine. It reminds me to take my time and savor life's little moments. I smack her ass hard with my palm, smirking as I say, "Fun's only getting started." Then I flip her over, scoop her up into my arms, and begin to carry her off as she kicks and flails against me. I dig my nails into her shoulder and thigh, warning her to stay still. When she refuses to listen, I hoist her up over my shoulder and bite her thigh. She beats against my back as I carry her out of the room, leaving Weasley behind. Her silent sobs beg me to turn back for him, but I'd much rather let him bleed out on the floor. The house elves will clean it up later. I'm none too worried about the mess.
Down the steps we go toward my personal dungeon. "Keep struggling, and I'll toss you down," I seethe, and she timidly slows her movements until she renders herself still.
My workspace is clean; I sit her on top of a cold, metal table I procured two years back and begin the tedious process of buckling leather straps across her shoulders and torso. Fuck sakes, she's so beautiful when she fights me - I strike her hard across the cheek as she attempts to bite me. Her head falls to the side, unconscious. When I'm sure she's secured to the table, I retrieve a silk strap from a bag near the steps. I bind her mouth and secure the material tight. Fuck yes. "So beautiful," I whisper while dragging my fingers down her tear-stained cheeks. I glance at the metal cuffs and realize those won't do at all. Such a delicate frame deserves delicate restraints. A quick transfiguring spell makes the cuffs appear to match the silk cloth in her mouth, though they still hold the same spell-dampening properties as before. She begins to come back around, eyes fluttering open. "What do you think? You wanted me to open up to you, didn't you, Hermione? Well, here we are." I gesture around to the stone walls and medical tools on a table nearby. Of course,
I've never been one inclined to speak to my victims -at least, not on a personal level. But tonight, her oversized earth-toned eyes, filled with tears, glisten back at me with such tenacity, I'm moved to words as she struggles against her wrist way she wriggles against them stirs a primal need in me to establish dominance. Hermione Granger has never been -will never be - submissive.
"Struggle all you like. I dare say I rather enjoy watching you squirm, mudblood."
She inhales through her nose, poised to answer, but she soon realizes it's all for naught; not only is there a silencing spell placed inside that gloriously slender throat, but a simple, silk strip of cloth also graces between those lush lips. It's aesthetically pleasing, somehow, to know what sort of position she's in. Soon, she figures it out, too. Her eyes skitter down the metal operating table she's bound to, captured by a leather strap across her shoulders and the dip in her stomach. Her legs thrash, free to the world and to me. Big mistake, however, because it only exposes what lies beneath that tantalizing skirt. No panties. Those were removed long ago, before we ever made it to this room.
Granger flails frantically, more tears spilling down her dirty, dirty cheeks. I smirk, taking my time, allowing her to watch my slender fingers trail over the array of various medical equipments I possess. Ones with blades, ones with needles, ones that look seemingly safe but are anything of the sort. It dawns on her what I plan to do when I pick up my personal favorite -a serrated knife with a crescent-shaped, white-bone handle just as sharp as the blade.
"Shh." I flash her a wink, taunting her even though I know damn well she hasn't made a sound. "Easy there, love. We're just getting started."
Hermione's head shakes back and forth frantically.
Please. Whatever you want. Just leave her alone.
What I want is already in front of me.
I raise the knife, showing it off to her. Then I step forward and press it against her thigh. Granger stills beneath me, fearing to move. Good. I like fear. "Spread your legs. Wider. Yeah, that's a good little slut." I press the tip of my knife against her skin. "Now, I can either fuck you with this, or you can let me into that stubborn mind of yours. Are you going to let me in?" I coo. Her head nods frantically. "Yeah? Wonderful." With my free hand I reach up and touch my palm to her forehead, closing my eyes. "Let's see what secrets you have on my kind, shall we?"
Images rush across the forefront of my mind. A simple box with a lock of hair and some old letters. A woman who looks like an older version of the mudblood in my clutches stares pensively into a fireplace. There are flashes of Weasley, flashes of her being bent over and fucked by me, flashes of her mother holding a knife to her own throat.
"And you said your mother's Dybbuk wasn't as bad," I taunt, sliding the knife just a bit up her thigh, closer to her warm center. The pressure isn't enough to draw blood, but it leaves a scrape across her skin all the same. I don't have to open my eyes to know. "I can feel you resisting."
Hermione's mother stands with the box in hand, hoisting it above her head. Then she slams it to the ground, and the box shatters. She screams and collapses to the ground.
Interesting...
"You said destroying the Dybbuk box would kill the host. So why would she do it?" I try to penetrate her mind again, but she fights me. Snarling, I slice a thin line down her leg, causing her to thrash. "I'm not in the mood for this, mudblood. You're going to give me answers, or I'll-"
My hand drops the knife. It clatters to the metal table. Granger stares at me in disbelief and hope.
"Well, well. Draco Malfoy's coming out to play, is that it?" I snigger, flexing the muscles in my neck from left to right. "I warned you, boy."
Suddenly, the back of my neck feels like it's on fire. My skin lights up in pinpricks of agony, skittering down my spine and across my back and rippling into my joints. There's a ringing in my ear, and a deafening scream coming from inside of me.
Fenrir Greyback.
"No." I clamp my hands over my ears, but it does me no good. All I can feel is uncontrollable, unmistakable fire lit from within my core, flowing out and ebbing my soul in its heat. My mouth forms words I do not command. "Fen...rir...Gr-Greyback."
The feeling is like being born again. Lights shimmer into focus, colors glisten in a once blackened void. My eyes are mine again, and I no longer look at them through prison bars, sitting on the backburner. I'm myself. I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is my body.
I blink a few times to confirm I haven't lost my mind, but no, I'm here. And Hermione's here. And Weasley is upstairs bleeding to death. And I'm Draco Malfoy, not some puppet to a Dybbuk.
"I don't know how much time I have," I choke out. My voice sounds foreign. Perhaps it's because I haven't used it on my own in so long. Not entirely. "Hermione, shh," I soothe as she thrashes against the table, watching me pick up the knife again. "Relax, it's me. It's me." I cut the leather off her stomach and shoulders, and then reach for her wrists. Hermione struggles against me, but I jerk her arms forward and command her, "Stop! I'm trying to help you, damn it!" The moment she calms, I cut away the silken straps on her wrists and untie the one from her mouth, removing the silencing spell. I waste no time, dropping the knife to the floor.
Our eyes catch.
"Draco...? " Her expression is dazed.
"Fuck, Hermione. Fuck, I'm so sorry… Fuck." My hands grasp her, pulling her against me. I bury my face in her shoulder as tears begin to fall, thick and robust from my eyes. I break in her presence, ashamed and horrified."This is only temporary. I can't hold him back for long. He's right there, pacing. I can feel him…" My fingers twitch. "In the potion's cabinet in my study, there's essence of Dittany. Help Weasley."
"I'm not leaving you-"
"Run!" I shout, shoving her off of me. "I can't hold him back much longer. Get out of here." Her expression is hurt as I reach down, pick up the knife, and wave it at her. I'm coming for you, boy. You and that mudblood bitch. "I said go, Hermione!"
"I'm coming back for you," she whispers, sliding off of the table and wincing; blood trickles down her leg from where Greyback - from where I cut her. "As soon as I know Ron is safe, I'm coming back."
"Go."
I toss my wand to her, giving her fair advantage. Hermione takes off up the stairs, stumbling a few times from the pain in her leg. When I hear the door shut behind her, I collapse to my knees as a pounding wave of nausea crashes over me. No matter how hard I struggle, I can't hold back the storm approaching in my psyche. There's a flicker of flashing lights, and then comes the onslaught of a migraine, followed by a high pitch ringing in my ears.
"Get out of my head!" My body sways. "Get out!" And then I hit the ground with a thunk right before the darkness consumes me.
Draco battles Greyback all out next chapter. Who will win? Find out Friday!
~A.
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- 27
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