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Draco Malfoy and the Pregnancy test	By : perlmarina Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 4225 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I do own (finishing) the story's fine structure.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
and this is just a part of

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Chapter 3. Return of the Jedi, or the Rain begins.

He pushed the enormously thick door and stepped into a damp stone place, ceiling high above. The door slammed shut loudly behind with laboured groans and rumble.

The hollow window carved in the dense mass of stone was located really high, taken with rusty bars of considerable thickness, which could have been pulled out only along with the 2 feet of the wall. And along with the foundation. Outside, there were lowered draperies of the brown autumn dusk, and it was dark in the cell, only a charmed torch burned, again, high above on the wall, casting traitorous, dim, reddish-yellow light upon everything. From behind the window the even humming of a chilling downpour could be heard – the ever more unceasing rain. You could hear distinctly water currents running somewhere close, whirling and bubbling, as if someone's inconsolable choking weeping.

It was damp and cold in the cell.

Yes, the weather corresponded to what was happening. With this rain today, it seemed as if they were all standing on the verge of eternal falling. People seemed to have turned into glass bubbles, which sharp water-arrows were breaking against, with ringing, exploding into salty splinters.

The air from the outside was penetrating freshness, though.

Draco turned his gaze to the small heap of muddied hair and clothes, that had once used to be Hermione Granger . She was now limp and indifferent, having twisted herself in a strange pose in the corner, on the ice-cold floor on some dirty rug.

The last remainder of Light.

The robes have been gathered into a pillow, the body is trying to curve itself around the pain.

Her uniform and haircut combined with the leanness made her resemble a boy. She was shortly chained to the wall, a steel bracelet's iron grip on the wrist. Dry blood still covered her face.

Hermione moved her orbs apathetically and saw spick and span him.

Her vision was smeared after the blow in the head. She had spent several hours on the floor, thoughtless, trying not to move, indifferent to the chill. Chill made it less painful, in fact. She would be melting her pain against the entire chill available. Clinging to it. A few hours of simply staring before her, like a baby, knowing this strange thing all the time - that she was leaving... Some irresistable thing that you can only get a grip onto and hold – and so she did, as a child would, onto a rattle – waving it in the air once in a while.

It was just about that no one could enter to this baby here.

It was totally deprived of human company. Eternally.

She would spend a few more hours here, at the bottom of a highest cliff, its top drowning in dark clouds, in a dirty, dim, grey place, and rapturous jaws would sting and tear her apart several times out of this emptiness– and then, noone else would ever hear anything of Hermione Granger again. What was ahead was nothing concerning humanity. Of all the people, it was just her here to protect her – but she knew that it didn't matter what was happening to that person in her care.

Nobody here to contradict this, if anything. And she knew that she was incapable of doing anything for Hermione Granger anymore.

It didn't hurt to think that now.

She wasn't in the very least able to stir a single convolution in her brain, so she wasn't worried at all. The brain was still capable of registering Draco Malfoy enter. The door was shut behind him, he made his way towards her and sat down nearby, on a low bench. Continued like this for 5 minutes or so - in silence. She didn't care – in a state, that very much resembled warmth, strangely.

Finally, he sighed deeply , waved his wand, and a spell travelled throughout her, after which he mumbled another one. She felt the injuries and fractures leave her body like a necklace string, and the hum in the head, from the concussion, subsided. Sudden heat spread inside her. Her eye-sight cleared up. At the very first moment, the disturbance felt practically an abuse.

She turned at his direction slightly – to greet him with a look of despise, of course.

So neat and luxurious, as always.

She had the ability of moving, again.

He was dressed in black, head to heel, white-capped, cloakless.

She still didn't possess as much strength as to bother asking what he was here for.

After all, it was Malfoy, and she wasn't afraid of him flinging himself on her and start beating up. She slowly came into sitting position in a splitted movement, checking out inwardly through all the spots that had just been aching badly. The body, now devoid of pain, kept humming like a ceased bell.

Well, what was on earth so interesting that this minor renegade could have come forward with?

He breathed, bit on his lower lip and said:

- Granger.

She didn't respond.

He went on quietly:

- Tonight there's going to be an orgy, - he sounded oh so very nonchalant, serene almost, as if it was a party plan he was discussing with her. He added coldly, musing he was:

- you'll be raped by everyone who'd be there.

She looked away:

- The life-long dream of yours, Malfoy, isn't it? – her voice hadn't been used for ages. She was studying the ancient brick wall very attentively.

Regardless of what was said, he finished:

- Unless, it is going to be me – only.

He narrowed his eyes and seemed to have sent two sharp blades into her. Leaned in slightly and froze.

Well, he made it. She turned her gaze at his direction slowly.

No words came up she with. He also kept silence.

After a long pause he probed, in an even tone, with his usual shade of cynicism:

- You're a virgin, Granger, aren't you?

She didn't reply for a long while. Eventually, she asked very weakly, looking sideways to her right, at a spot on the floor – framing words quite distinctly already with this inconvenient stranger's voice:

- Would you bring me something sharp here, Draco?

And looked up, her eyes unnaturally widened.

He responded unhesitantly, biting onto his lip again:

- I can't. It will be clear that it's me. Especially since I came in here… You will take me along with yourself.

He elaborated, his gaze unusually shiny:

- You are rather not a simple trophy… Hermione.

After a short pause he ended his sentence seriously, leaning in further and somehow speaking down:

- And your abuse is rather not going to be simple, as well.

I have never expressed this in judicial terms before – never thought thus to myself.

Her exhausted brain was fighting a losing battle to embrace all the alternatives. But the possibility of being raped remained a blank clank to her. She still had things too be preoccupied with. Just like the rest of the breaking news, none of this could have had anything to do with Hermione Granger. She had just felt pretty much a fallen-out tooth. Now, the hand was gloved but still refused to touch anything.

What had he had her healed for?

- Do you want to survive that badly?

He paused.

- For the time being – yes.

The reality was still unfastened from Hermione Granger. But Draco Malfoy was not compliant.

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- You! You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!

- Hermione, no!

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He stood up, came near and, gripping on her shoulders mildly, dragged her into standing position. It was intended, him pulling himself closer and bowing his head so that his clean hair brushed her cheek, its fragrance something spicy-green. And his fragrant breath enfolded her, when he half-wispered and half-low-growled it into her ear:

- Granger, are you sure that you totally don't … want me?

She was numb, petrified, with a look of an imbecile on her face, she only kept breathing cautiously, trying to process his behavior, and as the answer never came… his lips touched on her jaw. They stirred against her skin and his breath sub-rustled along the neck. Then, the full soft lips kissed on a little lower spot , their powerful pressure exquisite… and a little lower… and Chaos took reign in Granger's head.

Never in her life could she have pictured Draco Malfoy kissing her under any pretext in any context. More so: doing it willingly, and furthermore: almost begging – and skillful... For Christ's sake, it was the conceited black beauteeeeth-th-th: Slytherin's utmost temptation and poison.

Even more so, under pretext of this context.

The fact, though was, that she was being treated that casually on sex matters for practically the 1st time, and some part of her was curious despite of shock, and was looking forward to…

Find out.

Malfoy was gentle, though too self-confident.

When he was so close - and wasn't raping her yet… he was intoxicating and she felt going dumb and losing her grip. Meanwhile, his lips had travelled to the dimple at the bottom of the neck, sending her half-paralized.

Some spiders do such things – with the victim-partner.

A part of her brain drowned and turned off, destroying her concentration, her security mechanisms and that wouldn't allow her to protect her profound principles that had used to accompany her everywhere in her previous, past life. Malfoy was a skillful bastard.

A part of her, and an impudent part it was – it was pretending to know better than Granger – this part was strangely withholding her. It wasn't the reaction to the kissing… The kissing actually resulted in her groping him without moving - all her being involved and against its will. You'd never fail to notice Malfoy.

It should be added, that this caring coveting felt very much like a heavy insult, by far more severe, should he have done more simple things.

But what was that she could possibly do now, being a looser? Easy prey for him. Also, she had previously received too much of beating and his actions were pleasant. Was she missing something important out?

And there was iota of fatal indifference there, too, after ascending from that floor. None of that could have been happening to her. She didn't owe him reactions.

But his subdued exquisite fragrances were reaching her. Draco Malfoy had to be smelling like this, she had always known that.

She squealed weakly and her elbows tripped several times on the ice of the wall and she went still, confused, staring at the blonde crown beneath .

Water was running somewhere beyond the wall.

Draco thought of… he definitely thought of something for which he lacked of words. Something like acerbic cinnamon prison bars – a spice to the numbness of the rain… The idea was complex. Touching had been established as a subtle matter in the Malfoys' Code back then in the 9th century already. But the fatal thought that the strangest moment of him touching her resembled an all too familiar one – as if an entire life was behind it in store – that thought was distinct, though whizzed by.

Yet another kiss caused Hermione to close her eyes and raise her face skywards.

She still couldn't sink her teeth into why his kisses seemed to her not entirely rotten.

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I wonder how dumb my English constuctions may appear, but still totally enjoying myself. It's a really weird experience, not to feel a skillful speaker anymore, but it's too challenging for me not to venture)))) In Russian its 9 chpts already. There is a considerable amount of translator's work - and I seem to be warming up. But it's going to be produced in bits of chapters, though frequently

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Draco Malfoy and the Pregnancy test