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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.

Chapter List
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clothA/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

Please consider reviewing ; that’s how writers improve.

Malfoy's holiday was dull, dull, dull. His parents were pre-occupied and distant, especially his father. He spent a good deal of time skulking about by himself. He found to his mild amazement that he missed his toy a little. Not her damned prating voice, nor her earnest, bookish looks; he missed the thrill of power and domination, the stimulation her screams and tears gave him. His longing was that of an old roué—erotic nostalgia tempered not the slightest bit by love.

On the first day back he lingered by the door of the train, watching for his toy's debarkation. She got off with the red haired moron, though Scar Head was nowhere to be seen—perhaps mooning after some girl. The moron and she were laughing, and as he watched, the moron put a hand on her arm for a second. That made Malfoy uneasy, though he could not say why.

Hermione had also had a less than enjoyable holiday. There seemed to be no potion that would block the dreams, for one. For another, Harry seemed possessed by a new urgency, though he could not say why. This sense of needing to hurry in turned pushed her to work ever harder, and she returned nearly as tired as she left.

Her Nan's health had worsened a lot since her last stroke, and her parents had been fairly distracted; not that Hermione minded, but they would have noticed the circles under her eyes else. She was glad they had not- she felt bad enough she could not be more of a help than she was already.

So when classes began, she threw herself in. Her meeting with Malfoy was scheduled for Saturday night, which, if she had to meet with the toe rag, was as good a time as any, she supposed. Friday was the first

DA meeting. That afternoon, she dropped her stuff in the dorm. She opted to put on a pair of blue jeans—Harry rarely remembered to heat the room, and anyway, ever since a near mishap involving Neville and a misaimed Blasting spell, she'd thought trousers the better choice.

Hefting her rucksack, she walked to the Room.

It was a good meeting. Everyone was slowly getting better, and Harry looked pleased, though very gaunt, she thought. Hermione made a mental note to mention that he needed to eat more, then watched as the others left in ones and twos. The Room was quiet and a small fire was burning

in the grate.

"Think I'll stay here and study a little." Ron looked ready to protest, but she gave him a fierce look. " I just need some time alone, all right?"

A concerned look passed between the two boys. "Is everything okay, Hermione? You've been acting kind of funny lately."

She sighed. "I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. You act like you're in pain half the time."

Was it that blatantly obvious? Harry was glaring very sternly, and even Ron looked more focused and serious than usual. When he scowled like that, he looked more like Percy, she noticed absently.

" If I could tell you, I would."

Harry expelled a breath and forced his fists to unclench. She swallowed hard, wishing so much she didn't have to lie to them. If only she could tell…she was a Gryffindor and forced down the part of

her that could have blurted it all out right then. She could bear it herself; had to do.

"Don't you trust us anymore, 'Mione?"

"Of course I do! It's just…complicated. Please believe me, if I could tell you I would." To her horror she felt tears pricking her eyes. She was trapped utterly, and her own negligence was the direct cause.

Sniffling, she dug for a handkerchief, then finally just hid her face.

None of them knew it, but they had reached a crossroads. The Earth did not move. The skies did not open. Nonetheless, what played out between the three of them in that room determined a good many things to come, some momentous and some miniscule. It is perhaps a mercy that that did

not know this was the hour—it might have haunted them later. It did not, for to them it was a link in the chain, not the clasp.

Harry backed off. In his attempt to quell her tears, he backpedaled.

"What it it? Your Gran again?" He felt an awful, selfish relief when she nodded. Harry didn't want Hermione to be overtired because she was working too hard on his behalf. Mostly, mainly, because he loved her like a sister and was afraid she would hurt herself if she didn't slow down; but, a sneaky voice whispered, also because he needed her.

" And you're sure you're okay?" Ron hated it when she cried. He tried to think of something to make her feel better and found nothing. He tried a smile instead. Through her tears, Hermione wondered whether

Ron had been bitten by something; he was making the strangest grimace…

"I'm fine, really. I just need some time to work on all this, that's all."

"Well, if you need to, umm, talk or something, we can…"

She nodded. "Thank you. I'll be up in a little while."

They left together and decided a snack would not go amiss. The house elves adored Harry and would happily make him anything he asked for; there was bound to be left over roast chicken from supper. They never noticed Draco Malfoy, hiding behind a tapestry and smiling a sneaky little smile.

Hermione couldn't concentrate. The talk with the boys had unsettled

her and she needed to go to the library for a book anyway. She stepped from the Room, intending on coming straight back. A familiar hand dug into her shoulder. Malfoy. Damn him.

"Wandering the halls again, were we mudblood?"

She tried to turn, only to have him tense his arm. "No. I'm on my way to the library." She went to walk away, only to have his other hand lash out and catch her elbow.

"Not anymore."

She succeeded in pulling away. "Be fair, Malfoy. We aren't to meet until tomorrow, and I have to work on Arithmancy."

His hand fastened on her wrist. " I said come along, Granger. Now."

She jerked her arm back, stumbling a little bit. "No."

She made it as far as the end of the corridor. A huge hand, heavy and damp, lashed out with surprising speed and latched onto her neck. The looming, repellent face of Gregory Goyle was perhaps an inch from hers. "What have we here?" He smiled, thin lips pulling back to show small, even teeth. Her stomach rolled; she could smell his sweat, a rankly animal stench.

"Goyle! Let her go, idiot."

Malfoy rounded the corner in time to see his sycophant manhandling his pet mudblood. He felt his blood heating; Draco Malfoy didn't share his toys. He swiftly crossed the cool corridor and stepped between them.

" That's enough. I'll deal with this one."

Goyle frowned. He wasn't sure he liked having Draco take his fun away; on the other hand, it was Draco. He let the mudblood go, not without regret, and wiped his hand on his robe ( she could have some kind of mudblood disease, after all).

Hermione's heart was pounding fast. Dimly, she felt Malfoy take hold of her and shove her toward the door, murmuring to her 'find your corner, mudblood. I'm going to take care of this."

Malfoy spun on Goyle and drew. "Obliviate." The large boy blinked.

"Draco? Why'm'I here?"

Draco blew a disgusted breath through his teeth. "Honestly, Greg, did you get lost on the way to the kitchens again?"

"No, I uh…" Actually, a sandwich sounded really good. He turned and ambled off for the kitchens, to bully an elf into making him something to eat. Malfoy shook his head, wondering how much of his air he had been forced to cede to Goyle during their tenure as 'friends'. Too much, however much it was.

He entered the Room to find Granger, not in her corner, giving him a look that held much more sauce than humble obedience, a situation he would remedy fore with. He looked around the Room and saw his house reforming itself from thin air. Excellent.

" Yes?"

"You can't possibly mean to-" Malfoy was watching her, eyes dancing with malicious pleasure. She forced herself to stop and try to find a way to outsmart him. " I really can't stay."

"No? And why would that be?"

"Because the boys are waiting for me in the Tower. If I don't come they'll look for me."

Not bad, Draco had to admit. Not as clever as something he would come up with, naturally, but not bad. He pretended to consider this for a moment.

" That's strange. I could have sworn I saw them headed for the kitchens. Weasely was making some inane remark about wanting some of the chicken from supper. What do you make of that?"

She flushed, starting with her cheeks and moving rapidly down her neck and into her hairline. Draco smirked; caught out by her own reaction, like a first year. If he'd caught a Slytherin firstie acting this way, the little blighter'd have had a hundred lines and a good tongue lashing to encourage them to develop a little guile.

"We planned to meet in a half an hour."

He shook his head. "Weak. Even more pitiful than your usual, which says something. The study, mud blood. I shall be there shortly." The ultimate threat, when he was young. He would have started crying at once, had it been him. Instead, she simply looked annoyed. He would give her something to sulk about, if that was how she was going to be.

The house showed her the way easily enough. She wondered whether he wanted her in a corner or sitting in one of the shining leather chair. 'It is Malfoy' her mind pointed out drily, and with that in mind she went for the corner, draping her robes over a chair.

He made her wait as long as his patience held out, which luckily wasn't long. He savored the way she jumped when he opened the door. He

stopped to hand up his robes and simply enjoyed the mudblood standing in the corner, awaiting his displeasure. Lucius always made him stand there a while longer, simply anticipating his doom.

Draco sat at the massive citrus wood desk, opened a random door and began to shuffle some papers. To his surprise, it was his herbology notes. He spent a very pleasant twenty minutes reviewing the uses of asphodel. Every so often he would give the mudblood a look, grinning as she huffed and squirmed. Once, when she started to turn around he told her sharply to face the wall and stop scratching at her arm that way.

Finally he decided he was done playing with his food. One can rustle parchment and bark orders only so many times before it's really very tiresome. He pushed the chair back and called her to his side.

He studied her attire a moment. Pureblood women never publicly wore trousers, and he was disgusted and pleased by the way they clung to her body. He could clearly see her arse, and the curve of a calf if he squinted a bit.

Hermione looked at a point on the wall, determined not to give him the pleasure of a reaction. She realized the jeans were a stroke of terrible luck. He reached out and guided her over his lap.

" I'm very disappointed to have to do this again so soon, Hermione. I really thought the last time would have taught you a lesson but you simply have to keep testing my authority. You've no one to blame for

our current state but yourself. Is there something you'd like to say to me?"

She paused. What in the world did he SMACK! "Oww! I'm sorry?" Her voice came out sounding much younger and smaller than she might have liked, almost childish. Heat rose in her cheeks and she felt a flash of gratitude he couldn't see her face. Odd, she would never have guessed a time when come when she was grateful for being over Malfoy's knee.

"I'm sure you are. That doesn't change the fact you were willfully disobedient. So I expect to hear penitence, understood?" He punctuated it with a swat to her thigh. She squirmed and nodded.

Draco had given this quite a lot of thought over the holiday, and decided a change in technique might do them both some good. He'd absolutely hated this as a child; he devoutly hoped Granger found it

just as horrid. He gave her a slap, sharp but not too sharp. The trousers muffled the impact, imparting a slight sting that, on its own, wouldn't be a problem. It was the others that would be the problem.

Hermione figured it out at once. She forced herself to lie still as Malfoy peppered her bum, tutting and shaking his head. "How old are you?" She shook her head, surprised. "Sixteen."

" Sixteen years old, and still needs to be turned over my knee. Aren't you ashamed to be in this position again?"

She knew what was expected. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Of course you are. Now, I think these trousers need to come down. No, lie still; I can't trust you to be a good girl and help me."

Draco hadn't anticipated having to fight the trousers; it was quite stimulating, the way they clung and stuck. Granger whined as he tugged them down, which made it even better. He drew them to her knees and, after a second, stood her up again. Her confusion was palpable. Grasping her waist firmly, he slapped at her thigh until she lifted her feet, one at a time, out of her trousers.

She looked as though she wanted to fall into the floor. He found it incredibly arousing, the heady power. He alone saw Granger this way—he was the only person ever to evoke exactly these reactions from her.

The first threads of desire started to pound in his veins—and if the end was inevitably rather a let down, getting there was worth it.

Hermione clenched her jaw. The sheer embarrassment of being undressed, even partially, in this degrading fashion was unspeakable. She tried to concentrate on a point above the molding, refuse to give him the satisfaction of her discomfort, but a sniffle escaped, followed by a few tears. Something soft was being thrust into her hand. A handkerchief, and Malfoy's voice. "Dry your eyes, Hermione. That's the girl."

How she hated him in that moment! She made herself give the handkerchief back nicely. His face was smooth and seemingly empathetic. " Now, now, mustn't cry. You'll need those tears later,

won't you? If you're good, perhaps I'll even let you keep your knickers up." He patted his lap.

She bent over, stomach sliding greasily, and winced as he wrapped the arm snuggly about her waist. He spent a few minutes surveying his work, filled with satisfaction to be in this position again. It rather irked him that Granger had managed to forget every lesson he'd ever taught her—then again, she was a mudblood. Likely she would require more frequent correction than a Pureblood, or even a Halfblood.

"I am hurt, hurt, that you would lie to me. Have you anything to say in your own defense?"

She forced down the part of her that wanted to tell him what she did wrong was trust a sneaky little bastard like himself and said as respectfully as she could " I never lied to you. They really are expecting me."

" Emminently?"

"No, sir."

He cracked a hand down. "Then you lied by omission and tried to weasel your way out of it, didn't you?" Hermione had to suppress a very

unladylike snort of laughter at the irony of what he'd said. Ferret calling the weasel out, wasn't it?

"Something funny?"

She frantically shook her head. "N-no, nothing." He huffed, deeply annoyed she wasn't fulfilling her part in all this. He'd teach her a thing or two. He cracked his hand down again, even harder. "I'll show

you what's funny."

A few minutes later nothing was funny at all. Draco rested his stinging hand on the mudblood's back, felt her trembling muscles. She was lighter than she had been, he noted. " Are you beginning to regret having lied?"

Hermione sniffled. "Yes. I'm sorry."

He patted her back, relishing the way she tensed and jerked a little. He let his fingers trail to her waistband, rest a moment, carefully begin to work the panties down. Hermione could take no more; she reached back and tried to bat his hands away.

SMACK! "What do you think you're doing?" The sheer audacity! He had a mind to…well, do something unpleasant, at any rate. What bothered him most in these moments was the fact that Granger was perpetually uncowed by him. Was she really this stupid? Some fiendishly clever plot? Gryffindor idiocy in its fullest form?

"You said I could keep them up." Hermione was determined to level the playing field at least a little. If she couldn't prevent this, if she had to submit, she would do it on her own terms, dammit. She tried to twist around to look up at him, only to find herself swiftly pinned.

Malfoy gave a long suffering sigh, as though she'd asked him to help her with some onerous task that might take weeks or years. " Let me explain this to you again: I am in control here You will submit to me.

Or else." She found herself being roughly set on her feet, hands flying up to shield herself. Malfoy spun her around and pointed to the desk. "Bend over. I'll convince you one way or another."

She bent, hideously aware of exactly how she must look. Malfoy stuck her to the desk and then stepped into the hall, walked a ways and then turned left. He was in the kitchens, as he knew he would be. A cold

goblet of pumpkin juice sat on the counter and he drained it, prudently deciding to calm down a bit before he dealt with the mudblood.

Hermione's world was reduced to the blonde wood under her face. She hated being exposed like this—hated it!—and tears were dripping down her cheeks again. She felt vulnerable and stupid and naked, even though he hadn't pulled her knickers down. Yet. She heard him leave and reenter, putter around beside her. He opened a drawer and seemed to withdraw something. Her skin prickled as his breath tickled warmly

at her ear. "This seemed to get your attention last time. I think ten a good start, don't you?"

Draco withdrew a small pot of ointment from the same drawer, though Granger couldn't see it. He smoothed it all over, as he had before. He had calmed down just enough that he was sure he wouldn't violate the Oath; enough that it seemed like a delicious anticipation, this waiting. He absently stroked his erection just a little bit, safe in the knowledge that she couldn't see him.

He positioned himself, drew back his arm. He could have warned her, could've let her brace herself against the shock of the blow. He would be damned if she would defy him like that again, and he intended on giving her a lesson she wouldn't soon forget. He had learned a lot in the weeks since this whole strange journey began, and by now he had a good sense of exactly what to do to get her attention.

"Count them." He brought the ruler back and then tapped her, feeling fiercely amused when she jumped. All het up, was she? Good.

Thwap! "One!"

Thwap! "Two! Oww!"

After the switch, this didn't seem bad at all. Hermione concentrated on counting. She should have known better than to interfere with Malfoy's twisted little desires. Cursing her stupidity, she determined to take this with as much dignity as possible.

Draco had anticipated that, too. He laid down five, not very hard, and then set the ruler down. He grabbed her knickers and pushed them down, studying what he had made. The salve prevented true stripes, of course, but he was gratified to see wide marks of a darker pink. He ghosted a finger over one and pretended not to notice she moved into his hand very slightly. She had soft skin, this mudblood. Soft, very hot, beautifully colored. His erection was verging on the painful, but he opted to push forward a bit further.

"I expect you're paying attention, aren't you?" Granger nodded, loathsome brushy hair a corona. Couldn't she ever do something with it? Other girls pinned it up or braided it with ribbon. Within a

minute he was holding a stretchy thing in his hand. Not a ribbon, but he would able to study her reactions, at least.

"Can you braid hair?"

"What?" That was literally the last thing she'd expected to hear him say. He repeated it, clearly losing patience, and Hermione nodded. Not well, but she could.

" Do it, then. I hate how your hair is always in the damned way." He

unstuck her and watched as she made a clumsy braid and tied the end with the band. He wrinkled his nose—she looked just as bad, but at least he could watch her now.

"Back over." He re-stuck her. Perfect. Picking up the ruler, he tapped her again. "Harder, this time. Make sure you're feeling it." He took up the ruler again and tapped her again.

THWAP! "OWW!" She would have stood upright if she could have. She realized suddenly why he'd gone easy on her that first time—he'd been cozening her.

THWAP! He was really laying in! She tried to twist a little to her left, to offer the less tender side, but she was stuck too thoroughly.

THWAP! Her legs were kicking involuntarily, not as hard as when he'd switched her, but still out of her control.

THWAP! She cried, not sobbing yet but crying steadily. He was laying every stripe right on top of the ones he'd put down before. They hadn't been hard stripes but she'd been whacked right beforehand—she was plenty tender, and Malfoy was hitting at least as hard as he had with the switch. Still, all things considered, she'd take this over the switch any day.

THWAP! She bucked as much as she could, which wasn't much at all. Malfoy stopped, not breathing hard but pleasantly flushed with exertion. His reaction, which had subsided slightly in the pause between sets, was back full force. Yes, life was grand.

" I'll be right back. You will wait for me, won't you?"

He slid the ruler directly into her line of sight and left as quickly as he could. Hermione forced herself to breathe deeply, not easy when one is bent at that angle. By now she had a good idea what kept

driving him from the room. Even as revolted as she was, at some level she was curious as well. 'Of course' she thought wryly ' that's what got me into this mess.'

Malfoy appeared a few minutes later, looking much relieved. He crossed in front of her and rummaged on the shelf. Pulling out a heavy text, he flipped a few pages, sat down and began to read aloud.

Finally she could bear no more. "M-Malfoy?"

He tucked a finger into the book. "It's rude to interrupt, Hermione. And what have I told you about using my name?" He picked up where he'd left off, as though she hadn't spoken. She waited until he hit a paragraph break and said as politely as she could "Sir?"

"Much better. Is there something you'd like to ask?"

"What are you doing?"

Malfoy sighed. "Reading. I'm reading."

"Yes, I know. I mean, why?"

Malfoy put the book down. " I thought some time in that position might encourage you to reflect. Has it?"

She bit her cheek. 'Yes, sir."

"Excellent. We're finished for tonight, mudblood." He opened the book and commenced to read again.

"Wait! Can't I get up?"

"I suppose you'll whinge if I leave you there." He unstuck her and put down the book.

"The boys are suspicious."

Malfoy nodded. " I would be, if I were them." He motioned for her to dress herself and she did, murmuring gratitude to whomever would hear it. She put on her robes and prepared to leave.

" Oh, and Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"I've decided a change is in order. Be prepared." He waved her away, making it clear he meant to stay on. She crept back to the Tower, wondering what he might have in mind.
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Favour Me With Silence