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Favour Me With Silence	By : MadeasRage Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 12372 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any recognisible characters. I do not make money from this story.

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Love to Countess Black

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They met that next time, and then things fell into a kind of rhythm. They met twice a week, mostly, sometimes less, never more. They never met outside the Room, never spoke about it. It was something that happened, like the tide.

For Malfoy, the thing had begun to take on shades of dreaming, or nightmares. It was a cycle, as thought the mudblood had infected himwith some kind of lycanthropy. When she was not there, he was DracoMalfoy, of the Wiltshire Malfoys, witty and urbane and cruel, a pureblood's pureblood. When they were alone, he turned into a creature of impulse, ruled by sensation. The pain he dealt her; the sting and gasp, the high sobs, his own mounting pain/pleasure as the friction drove his responses to the nth degree. Sometimes he wondered who was the more miserable between the two of them.

Hermione tried not to think about it. Tried not to feel better as she cried. To forget the streams of sensation his touch could bring, as his fingers cooled a welt; the way her stomach pulled tight in fear and anticipation as she felt him tense to strike her, the silence between them as the brush or ruler ascended to begin its inevitable arc. She dismissed the part of her that said she liked it, the same as she brushed the boys off when they scolded her for working too hard.

Malfoy was an obligation, that was all.

When she heard about Mr. Weasley, she was as shocked and horrified as the rest of them. So close to Christmas and now this… she cried almost as hard as Ginny did, late at night. It sometimes felt to her the world was going insane, and she could go with it or fight a losing

battle. She went to her meeting with Malfoy with a dreadful sense of relief—she could let go of it all for an hour or two.

Malfoy shifted and sighed. Granger, normally the soul of punctuality, was late. Almost five minutes late, and would she ever pay for it! He shivered slightly in pleasurable anticipation and then changed feet. He'd had to shoo Crabbe and a very persistent Parkinson away from

their meeting spot. If she didn't get there soon and he had to look for her…

She rounded a corner and nearly smacked into him. Hermione gasped in shock as Malfoy's hand lashed out and stopped her forward momentum. He pulled her to a stop and up, so close their noses were almost touching. "Late, Granger? We'll have to have a little discussion about it, won't we?"

She blanched. They went into the Room side by side, his hand still tightly on her bicep. Hermione relaxed slightly as his bony hand was withdrawn. Malfoy wandered around, deceptively casual. She watched him, knowing he would plan something really dreadful and too upset to care. He turned around and came to stand before her.

" I've thought of just the thing. First off, robes, you're going over my knee for a thorough smacking. Hurry now, wouldn't want any extras." Hermione knew better than to argue, by now. She shucked her robe and left it folded on the table. She turned around in time for Malfoy to

notice her attire.

“Granger? What is that?" Draco wasn't sure he could sneer and gag at the same time, but by Merlin's pants, he would try. The mudblood was attired in a very normal (cheap looking, naturally) skirt and sensible loafers, but the shirt…

Hermione found herself defensively pulling her arms over her chest. "A jumper. One of my Dad's old ones." She loved her Dad's old fisherman sweater; it was worn soft and cozy, baggy and wonderful. It wrapped her in a cloud of comfort and the faint smell of 4711 cologne, like her Dad. She felt better just touching it.

"Is your family simply destitute, or do muggles consider sharing ratty old clothes a social activity?"

She scowled. " My family's got enough for me to have new clothes if I wanted them, Malfoy. I just don't care about those things very much. Not like some girls I could mention."

He laughed. " If that's a poorly aimed jab at Parkinson, then I expect you feel I should defend her to you. I shan't. We aren't here for a little tete a tete, mudblood."

In short order she was turned up, Malfoy's hand cracking down regularly. Hermione tried to keep still as Malfoy smacked her. She always tried so hard, but Malfoy was strong, and he knew how to make it hurt. She wondered sometimes what he must have endured to make him so good at this. He spent a long time whacking her backside and then lifted his leg to heat her sit spots. She hated when he did that. The embarrassing position and the events of the past few days bound together. She gasped and burst into hard, wracking sobs.

Draco stopped. The mudblood never reacted this early. He stayed his hand and waited a moment to see if she'd stop as well; if so, he'd know she was faking and blister her until she shrieked. She gave no indication she noticed he'd stopped; kept crying as though her heart would break. He huffed with irritation. "Granger, stop that at once."

Her emotions were winding down anyway. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I'm s-sorry. The past few days have been just dreadful." She sniffled, determined to regain her lost dignity. Wiping her hand across her eyes, she took another deep calming breath, just as she'd been taught.

Malfoy felt annoyed. If she was going to act like a lunatic over his knee, she might have the taste to do so because he was striking her. It vexed him to no end that she was upset about something apparently unrelated to the fact he was beating her. Classless, really. His mind, wandering, hit on a rumor he'd heard and he decided to play the odds.

"This little outburst wouldn't have anything to do with the fact Weasley's father was nearly snake-food, would it?"

Granger stopped crying. To his shock, she actually had the gall to stand without his permission, right her clothes and prepare to give him hell. " How dare you joke about a thing like that? Mr. Weasley could have killed by that damned snake, and you make light of it?" She

prepared to turn, get her things but…she couldn't. The Oath was holding her in place, not like the Imperius but more a cautioning voice that warned her to stop. She was free to leave at any time; doing so would violate the oath and allow Malfoy to tell.

Malfoy could see her struggling. He gave her his nicest smile and did his best to imitate Lucius' patented ' you're in serious trouble voice' the one that still made Draco's stomach drop. "If you're finished with your little fit, Granger, we can commence again. Unless you'd prefer I walk you to Umbridge?" She shook her head, trudged over. To her surprise he rose.

Draco was pleased. He had an excuse to really give it to her, and an excellent one, too. He was amazed she dared to give him cheek in her vulnerable position. Well, not really; Granger had the self preservation instincts of a baby pygmy puff. Her total lack of impulse control was a good thing, for him, if less so for her. Besides, he told himself as he desperately willed her not to notice his swelling erection, he was helping her. She couldn't go on like this, and he was encouraging her to behave in a more mature fashion. Surely if it were like that, it couldn't be wrong for him to enjoy it so?

"It's war, mudblood. War isn't a game with rules and penalties and everyone playing nice all the time. People get killed." Draco had grown up hearing about the glories of war from Lucius and found her attitude ridiculous.

" Mr. Weasley almost died, Malfoy. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" He looked her in the eye; he liked seeing the mudblood upset—loved it, actually—but only when he was the cause. He resented that she was distracted from her job of suffering for him.

" One more or less blood traitor, what's the difference? When the Dark Lord is triumphant, they'll all be snake meat." He expected her to cry, yell, do anything but look at him as she was, as though he were a butterfly, pinned and ready for the glass case.

" Not you, Granger, never fear. I shall ask the Dark Lord if I may keep you as a pet. Won't it be splendid, just the two of us? Then I can show you what pain really is." Hermione had to resist very sternly the urge to punch him again.

"You're a wretched sod and I hope you die choking in your own blood." Malfoy threw back his head and laughed aloud. "Ahh, Granger, flattery will get you everywhere. Still, we have your punishment to think about, don't we?"

" A little time in the corner first, I think." To her embarrassment he grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her like a recalcitrant child to the same corner she always stood in. Drawing his wand, he murmured a spell and traced a circle. None too gently, he shoved her head toward the circle. "Nose there, and Merlin help you if you move."

When he was sure she was obeying him, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard, much harder than he had for the WC. He was pleased and more than pleased with the result-taking a careful tour of what he had created and, finding it just perfect, Draco uncornerned his toy.

Hermione couldn't contain her gasp. The room was had changed. It was

much larger, for one thing. Huge, in fact. Large enough to accommodate a small…house? Cottage? Building, at any rate, with the cutest little copse of trees next to it, even a tiny meadow and little stream in the stone floor. It was like a fairy tale. Handsel and Gretel, she thought and then winced. Perhaps a bit too apt for comfort.

Malfoy got a firm hold on her wrist again. "Malfoy, let me go! I can still walk."

Draco stopped and eyed her levelly. " When you act like a child, Granger, it seems appropriate to treat you like one. Stop fighting and come along." He led her, seething but quiet, into the structure. Though Granger wouldn't know it, it looked very like a scaled down Malfoy Manor. At least parts of Malfoy Manor.

Everything was so beautiful, Hermione thought breathlessly. Opulent rugs of sky blue and celery green muffled their feet as they walked through the little atrium, the walnut paneled walls gleaming with beeswax. Malfoy was silently leading her into the depths of the place,which her rational mind told her was impossible. She was struck again by the sheer wondrousness of magic, the terror and glory of it all.

Draco, more or less inured to magic by now, was flashing back to childhood. His own punishments had often begun this way, the walk in disgrace, fear clenching his stomach as he realized just how badly he was in for it. He tightened his grip on Granger's arm and purposely

walked faster, utilizing his longer legs to make her have to go more quickly to keep up, pulling slightly to keep her off balance..

Hermione had never gotten a serious punishment from her parents. She'd always been a good, obedient girl who could be trusted to keep her head. She'd never been tugged along by an angry parent, but she felt herself tensing with apprehension. She hated the way she was being

dragged along but, from the look on Draco's face, making an issue about it would be a bad idea.

The walk seemed to take forever but at last they came to a door, dark paneled and ornately carved. He twisted the knob and the door glided silently over the soft carpet, this one a dusty mauve. Giving her a swat to the backside to propel her, he closed the door behind them.

They were in a parlor. Hermione took in the soft silk covered divans and wing chairs, the fireplace, the French doors to the little glade. Malfoy seemed nonplussed. Shucking his robes, he hung them on a discreet coat tree and then stood before her.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, hmm?" He crossed his arms and glowered, trying to look as imposing as Father. It seemed unfair to him that Lucius got all that experience gradually, while he was thrust into things, as it were.

" I—uh, I mean—you were-"

" This isn't about me, Granger. Surely you know better than to raise your voice to me?"

She found herself nodding without meaning to. She hated herself for

playing along, she really did. Draco paused to let her stew a bit, then paced slightly. This was fun—why hadn't he done this before?

"Since you can't act like an adult, I see no real need to treat you like one. First things first, I'm going to finish your smacking."

He sat on the divan and called her to stand between his knees. "Hands on your head." He took hold of the hem of her skirt and tucked it into her waistband, baring her. Then he put his hands on either side of her waistband and unceremoniously yanked her knickers to her knees, not

bothering to spare her modesty a bit. He jumped and opened her mouth to protest, only to get a sharp whack on the bum for her pains.

"Shush, mudblood. You really have it coming you."

Seizing her elbows, he pulled her over his knee, carefully clamping her so she couldn't kick. Then he drew his wand and calmly stuck her arms to her back and her torso to his so she couldn't move. She was helpless, unable to move without his say-so. He savored her utter helplessness, totally at his mercy.

" In this situation, I think Granger a tad formal, don't you? So for now you're Hermione. And who am I?"

She had to swallow hard, utterly humiliated. "Sir."

"That's correct. Now, why are being punished?"

"Because I was rude to you. Sir." She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. This was so awful. At least before he hadn't lectured her this way.

" You were terribly rude and disrespectful, weren't you? And you need a hard smacking to help you remember your manners. Ask me for it nicely, Gra-Hermione."

"P-please, sir, smack me until I cry. I was very rude and d-disrespectful to you."

" I want you to remember this the next time you feel like being stroppy with me. All it will earn you is a red arse."

He raised his hand, locked his legs tightly over hers and brought his hand down with a deafening smack. Hermione yelped as her bum caught instant fire. It really hurt! He brought his down a second time, then a third, all on the same place. To her deep chagrin, she found she couldn't control the tears that stung her eyes and then ran down her cheeks. She began to cry out with every third swat, then every other, then finally every hard, even slap that he dealt her. Finally, he paused.

"Would you like to tell me what you've learned so far?"

" OWWWW! S-Sorry, I'm sorry! I was r-rude! Bad! PLEEEAASEE, HURRTTS!"

Draco tightened his hold on her waist and raised his leg to attack her sit spots, which he'd left untouched. She sobbed even harder and, raising his voice to be heard, cracked her left sit spot a good one and said as sternly as he could "You see what happens to naughty girls? I warrant you won't feel like giving me cheek for a long time, will you?" SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

She couldn't move, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything but let Malfoy scold her while he paddled her burning backside even hotter. She put her head down and sobbed, overcome by her utter lack of control and the dreadful pain. She couldn't even kick her legs; he was controlling her reactions.

"NOOO, NOOO, PLEEAASSE! BURRRNS! OWWWW!" Draco could feel her trying to twist against him and took greatest pleasure in quashing her. He paused again, waiting for the worst of her hysterics to pass and then gave her a tap on her thigh to get her attention.

"My word, what a mess you are! We're almost finished, just a bit more.' He felt he relax slightly at the news and smiled a conniving little smile. "Once more, what have you learned?"

" Not to be rude and disrespectful to you, sir."

"That's right. Because naughty girls ( SMACK) get their ( SMACK) arses whacked ( SMACK ), good and hot( SMACK) ( SMACK) so they never ( SMACK) do it ( SMACK) again(SMACK). Isn't that so?"

"YES! NEVER AGAIN! PLEAASE!"

He nodded and unstuck her, carefully lifting her off his lap. Getting a firm grip on her wrist, he led her to a corner with a convenient chair already in. "Sit down, you're doing more time in the corner."

"Please don't make it sit. It hurts enough, I promise!" He gave her a dreadful scowl. "I'll decide that. If you're arguing with me, clearly you need another good smacking. Maybe the brush this time…"

Her bawling took a frantic quality. "No, no I'll sit! Please, sir, I'll sit!"

He sat down in the chair and pulled her over, giving her a half dozen smacks on her bright pink thighs. She howled, kicking and he found himself having to wait again. 'Must learn to time these things better…'

"Do you want to sit, or shall I get the brush?"

"Sit, please sir! Sorry, sorry!" He wondered what McGonagall would say, seeing her shining star bent over, red arse bouncing as she kicked and cried like a child. He gave her a few more swats for good measure and then traded places with her.

" You sit here and think about what you did. I'll be preparing your next lesson."

As he expected, the news they weren't done was met with scant enthusiasm. He opened the door next to the fireplace and was delighted to see an office like Father's. With the same onyx WC, where he took care of himself as quietly as possible. His mind drifted to Granger,

skirt still rucked up, glowing arse on full display where it wasn't pressing the wood of the chair. He couldn't imagine how humiliated she must have felt, spanked and then put in the corner like she was five and not fifteen. And he had done it to her. His release mercifully blotted out all thought, and when he emerged, it was with purpose in his stride.

She was as he'd left her, hands clamped tightly together, tears stained face sad and sorry. He move quietly behind her and relished her startled gasp when he began to speak.

"Tell me, Granger, what do you know about America?"

She blinked. " Not much, I suppose, My mother went for a conference

once. She said it was nice."

"My father happens to have in his possession a number of very interesting—and perfectly legal, I'll have you know—books about magic and magical cultures all over the world. The Americans have the quaintest custom when it comes to child rearing. When children there are naughty, what do you suppose they do?"

"I don't know. "

"They send them out to get a limber tree limb from a tree and bring it back. Then they bend them over something and use it to thoroughly stripe their arses. Sounds fun, doesn't it?"

Hermione thought it sounded anything but fun. She swallowed hard and braced herself. She tried on concentrate on the feelings of anger and hurt instead of fear. Breath, relax, breathe. She shifted slightly and felt the awful twinge of her still very sore backside.

Malfoy helped her stand. " All right, go pick a switch for me to use on you. If you aren't back in five minutes, I'll find you and choose it myself." He gave her back her wand so she could diffindo the switch and watched, self satisfied as a cat, as she walked away.

She walked through the French doors and into the cool of the little glade. The tiny stream was babbling, the stone room was quiet and pleasant. She went to untuck her skirt and heard Malfoy's strident voice from behind her. "You leave that up! I never told you to cover yourself!"

"Fucking git." She made sure to speak to quietly and went to the first tree. It seemed to have no suitable limbs. The second was likewise bare, but the third, like the bear's porridge, had a multiplicity of small green limbs. She carefully chose a little skinny one, the most harmless looking one she could find.

He was consulting his pocket watch when she walked back inside, carefully closing the door.

" Four minutes and thirty eight seconds. Close, very close. Let me see what you picked." She handed it to him and he examined it closely, trying not to let one that he hadn't the faintest clue what he was looking for.

"Adequate, I suppose." He picked up a few of the fluffy swans down and stacked them on the end of the divan. "Lie down, that's right, bum nice and high."

She obediently positioned herself, wondering why she didn't stun him and run. She was armed, after all. As though sensing her thoughts, he calmly leaned over and slid the wand from her hand. "Hands up, Hermione." He stuck them to the divan and, after a moment's thought,

stuck her to cushions and the cushions to the divan. Only the top half; no reason not to mix business and pleasures, the sages be damned.

" I must say, I did rather a good job punishing you. Your bum looks like it's on fire. How does it feel?"

She bit back a sob of shame. "H-hurts, sir. It's very painful."

Malfoy made a sound of approval. "Is it? Good, that means you're learning a sound lesson. Or perhaps not… either way suits me fine, it's really very enjoyable, having a reason to punish you.

" He thought of something he'd like and the Room responded with a small tin of ointment. Hermione leapt when something slimy and cold touched her. Malfoy hissed with annoyance.

"Hold still. It's salve to keep you from bruising. Unless you'd like some marks?"

She shook her head. His hand spread a thin coat all over the reddened flesh, careful to avoid anywhere…untoward. He even did her thighs for her, as clinical and detached as a medi-wizard.

Draco was very excited for this next part; he'd never dreamed he'd actually get to do this to someone. His enemy, his hated rival, bent over, awaiting his chastisement. He felt himself reacting and did nothing to check it; it couldn't be unnatural to take pleasure in humiliation of a wanton, foolish girl, could it?

" I want you to remember this the next time you consider disobeying me. However much it burns and stings, you might have spared yourself if you had been a good girl and not tried to leave. I'll not make you ask this time. Brace yourself."

He picked the switch up and snapped it in the air with a crisp swish. Hermione felt him tap her twice to establish his aim. Malfoy drew back his arm and-

SWISH! "OWWWWW!"

Hermione thought Malfoy could do no worse to her than he had. In thirty seconds he completely destroyed this notion as a thin, burning welt of white hot heat bit into her bum. She couldn't control the sounds she was making. She couldn't control the way she was moving

frantically to avoid the blows, causing the switch to catch her inner thighs every so often. She certainly couldn't control the horrible burning agony Malfoy was silently dealing out.

SWISH! "OWWWWWW!"

SWISH! "AIEEEEEEEE! OWWWWWWWWWWSTOPPLEEAASE!"

SWISH! "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! SORRRRY!"

SWISH! "PLEEEEEEEEEEAASEEOWWWWWWWWW!"

SWISH! "PLEEEEEEEEAASSEE ILLBEEEEGOOOD!"

Malfo stopped. " I'd like to believe that, Hermione. Unfortunately, your track record would tend to contradict you. You've had this coming a long time. I'm doing you a favor, really. What do you say when someone does you a favor?"

"T-th-thank you. Sir."

"Good girl. Can you ask nicely for the rest of your switching?"

"Please sir, may I have the rest of my switching now?"

"You may." He finished with a flurry of very hard blows that left her wailing. Panting, he stood beside Hermione, watching his toy fight for control. He had to admire how well she took things, really. Even now, strawberry colored backside still on display, she was fighting to control her tears.

Hermione felt…better. A huge stone had lodged itself on her heart when she heard about the attack; it broke free and dissolved while she screamed and kicked and generally made a spectacle of herself. She forced herself to breathe deeply and lie still, and while the fiery burn didn't diminish, she found she didn't mind as much as she did. Or should have, for that matter.

If Draco were to be totally honest, he would have admitted he were a little disturbed by the mudblood's weird calm. It seemed to him she should have been still bawling and wiggling for him, but instead her cries had ceased, her struggles likewise, and her sobbing now was

close to relief. On the other hand, the switch had been a marvelous success.

"Do you suppose you'll remember your lessons, Hermione, or will you be getting another switch soon?"

"Hmmm? No, I'll remem-ohhh-remember." To his great pique, she was falling asleep. He bent to grab her arm, pull her up and take her back to her corner, but suddenly he didn't want to. He couldn't send her back like this anyway. Unsticking her, he swiftly jerked the pillows from under her and spelled her a little higher on the divan.

He walked to the study and pulled down a book at random, determined to

read. He took it back to the parlor and sat down in a chair, trying to ignore the half naked mudblood sleeping a few feet away. She shivered in her sleep. He transfigured a doily into an afghan and spread it on his dozing toy.

Hermione woke slowly. Malfoy was seated nearby, casually paging through a book. He seemed to feel her scrutiny, for he slammed the book shut and looked her in the eye. "Thought you'd never wake up."

He stood and calmly got his robes, preparing to leave. "Come along, mudblood. Some of us haven't been snoring for the past two hours."

She pushed herself up and felt the blanket brush her scorched rear end. Gasping, her hands flew back to rub. A voice stopped her almost as soon as she'd begun. " No you don't, mudblood. When I punish you, I expect you to endure the pain. It's half the fun for me, you know."

She blushed bright red when she realized he hadn't pulled her skirt down. Standing, finally, she followed him out of the cottage and back into the Room. He handed her knickers, long disgarded, back to her and pointedly turned around so she could don them. Again, she forwent them and simply slid back into her robes.

"Next time, Granger, I expect you to come attired appropriately. Haven't you any nice clothes at all?"

"My clothes are nice." She wasn't going to be baited, no matter what. She picked up her rucksack and looked to him for her wand, which he duly surrendered.

" I take that as a 'no'." He mind began to work … he really didn't want his time spoiled by Granger's Father's decrepit old rag of a sweater again.

He walked her back, giving her the time of their next meeting. At the portrait hole she paused and turned back. "Thank you. I feel much better." The mudblood was gone in a cloud of wiry dun colored hair.

Draco shook his head, annoyed. "Feels better, indeed. I shall have to remedy that at once."
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Favour Me With Silence