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Yes, Master	By : Haydron Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 11713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the characters associated with Harry Potter. No money has been made from this piece of fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter 4: Trip to the Dungeons

O

"How are we getting to Azkaban?" Ron asked.

Harry worried his bottom lip. "Preparations. We need to fly there. Portkeys are dangerous, and it's too far away to apparate." He could picture it now. The splinching that would occur, resulting in the mother-of-all agonies. Amputations, in comparison, would look like a piece of cake.

"Impossible!" Ron delved his head into his hands. "You're Harry Potter. They're not just going to let us walk in and remind us of visiting times politely. You-know-who has turned the dementors completely cuckoo!"

"They were like that to begin with," Harry muttered.

"No, what we need is a distraction," Ron was galloping at hundred miles per hour. "Something to avert their gaze, whilst we sneak in and have a little looksie."

"How very Tolkien of you," Harry quipped.

"Huh?"

Ron couldn't hide his bemusement.

"Oh, never mind," Harry sighed in exasperation. "I think I have a much better idea. Why don't we," he gestured between them, "Get arrested?"

It was the second night, and already there was a change in sleeping arrangements. Hermione was lead back down to the kitchen, and shown a little alcove under the sink.

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

They couldn't be serious?

It was the perfect napping place for a four-legged creature, but for someone with considerable height, hours of cramping lay in store. She didn't know what to make of it. From being trussed up like turkey meat, to squeezing into a confined space. If she wasn't careful, her body would react permanently to these extremes.

"Master says you are to sleep here tonight," Ester squeaked. "He can't stand the look of you."

Hermione didn't ask why.

She was feeling hideously tired, especially after not grabbing much winks the night before. "It's fine," Hermione nodded, and got down to the floor without much complaint. Ester was being continuously surprised by this human. Usually, they would be throwing a little temper, claiming how unfair life was.

"Well…" Ester hesitated. "Sleep well."

For the most part, Hermione did. She soon found her favourite sleeping position, was with her head under the sink, where the distant gurgles of the drain was soothing, and a layer of warm air hung under the basin. The rest of her body, she outstretched across the kitchen floor, a tripping hazard to any nocturnal creatures on the warpath.

She dreamt of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts at its best.

It was Christmas day, and the entire castle was transformed with bright and colourful decorations. She spotted Ron at the end of the moving staircase, and called out to him. He immediately turned; waving. "Look, Hermione!" he laughed. "You're caught under mistletoe!"

Hermione looked up, heart pounding, and found indeed that he was correct. She knew exactly what that meant. There would be no moving from this spot, until someone chivalrous enough came along to kiss her. "Wait!" the look on Ron's face suddenly turned to blind panic, and he started sprinting up the stairs. "Wait for me!"

What? Hermione frowned. She was right here. It wasn't like she could go anywhere…

Suddenly the dream-like quality vanished, as Ron leapt over the missing gap and suddenly transformed into Draco Malfoy. He landed on the other side with ease, and paused to check if the button on his sleeve was buttoned.

Horror swirled in Hermione's stomach. Was she not even allowed to escape from him, in her sub-consciousness?

The warm candlelight that had washed over the scene was suddenly extinguished by a gust of wind. It was Hogwarts. But this was how Hogwarts was seen today. Only the dim moonbeams that trickled through the panes gave her any form of comfort.

Draco stepped closer, for all intents and purposes, stalking.

"Ron!" Hermione howled. "Bring back Ron!"

"Forget about him." Draco's words were soft, barely a whisper over the ringing in her ears. "It's only me now. Only I can save you…"

"Why don't you save your twerpy lines for someone who gives a damn?"

She squeaked, when he suddenly pulled her against his body. His body was hard and unforgiving, and made the few curves she hid feel very pronounced. But his eyes were embarrassingly open. There was a silent pleading hidden within those depths.

"Let me kiss you," he said delicately. "Let me in…"

Well, this was bizarre. Was she actually meant to contemplate this offer?

Draco chose that moment, to steal a kiss. It was over in seconds, but that slight brush of skin sent fire racing down her belly. He was staring at her, vulnerable, as if he was asking to do more.

He didn't need to ask.

Hermione threw her arms around his body, and fiercely hugged him, like he was hugging her. Draco let out a hollow laugh, kind of pained, and caught her face with a single hand. A whisker of anticipation flew between them, before he pinned her to the banister, and ravaged her mouth. His hands were everywhere. Touching. Caressing. His lips were nibbling on her fleshy folds, catching them between his teeth, groaning deep into her mouth.

Something warm was igniting downstairs.

Hermione broke the kiss, and gasped for air. Draco looked rather perturbed, not in a happy sated kind of way, but the look he wore back in Hogwarts when he was bullying someone and was going in for the kill.

He raised a hand, and slapped her.

"Now I have to burn my robes!" he spat. "Fuck's sake, Granger. Snogging you is not something I would choose to do willingly in a million years. Even you needed to create an alternative version of me, to come near you! How pathetic. Stop involving me in your dirty thoughts, and go shag someone insipid."

Hermione awoke bolt upright, and gasping in terror.

She had forgotten all about the sink, and that mistake came back to bite her in the arse. "Owwww!" she moaned, clutching her head aware Ester was staring at her in worry.

What time was it? It looked a little past ten. Why had she slept in for so long, and more importantly, why had no-one awoken her? This wasn't a lazy morning back at home. The people upstairs didn't regard her much highly than a maggot, and wouldn't hesitate to get her up at the crack of dawn if needed be.

"Are you well-rested?" Ester asked.

"What's going on?" Hermione griped, rubbing her head. Uneasiness was coiling in her gut, the only premonition that something unpleasant lay ahead.

"Master has handed over the reins to Mistress, after your shambolic behaviour yesterday." Ester blinked. "Mistress will be in charge of your punishment today. She has summoned you to the dungeons. Hurry!"

Hermione was hoping it would be Narcissa waiting for her, the lesser of two evils. The other possibility was too chilling to think about. But as she limped closer to her doom, it became more and more obvious which sister would relish in her misery the most.

The cells in the dungeons were being put to good use. Hermione wasn't the only muggle being treated like an animal at the Manor. A dozen muggles, men and women but thankfully no children were stripped naked and herded into corresponding cells.

They were skin and bones, lifeless eyes watching her pass without much recognition. Hermione wanted to cry. She averted her eyes to salvage their modesty, and sniffled.

Bellatrix was waiting for her in the last vacant cell, an air of expectation buzzing around her. She beamed, monstrously, the second she clapped eyes on Hermione.

"Mudblood!" she greeted. "My new favourite plaything!"

Hermione snarled, heckles up.

"Oooh," Bellatrix giggled. "Fighting, are we? So much fun! Before we begin, let me demonstrate my power." She pointed her wand through the bars, towards the motionless muggles and waved her wand airily. "Imperio. Act like a pig! All of you!"

The muggles quivered on their feet, as if they were unsure what to do. Hermione knew the unforgivable curse well enough, to recognise these weak signs were the attempts of the muggles trying to throw it off. But one thing Hermione knew for sure. None of them had mastered the art of resistance quite as effectively as Harry.

Slowly, one by one, they dropped to their knees and started crawling around each other with frequent collisions. Bellatrix seemed to find the grunting they produced highly amusing, and clapped her hands in glee. Thankfully she didn't spot the hatred welling up in Hermione's eyes.

"Mount her!" Bellatrix instructed, and Hermione realised with she was orchestrating.

"No!" she yelled, just as a man fiercely grabbed the hips of a female companion and jerked them towards his. Hermione gave a flying kick, and the wand somersaulted from Bellatrix's grip, as the bitch fell down. Back in the cells, the man and woman had parted ways with each other, blinking in confusion and tried to continue their impersonations of pigs.

"Death!" Bellatrix shrieked, as Hermione clambered for the wand.

"You're the one who deserves DEATH!" Hermione bellowed.

There was a fierce tussle on the floor of the cell, which Bellatrix won, by using dirty tactics like biting Hermione's hand. Hermione let go of the black Dragonstring wand, enraged and hugely irritated. If she couldn't win, then she'd much rather die. What was the point of prolonging the inevitable?

"I should kill you," Bellatrix panted above her. "I should kill you right now, but where's the fun in that? I want you to suffer, mudblood. Go insane like those Longbottom freaks."

Then she uttered the infamous spell. "Crucio."

Hermione had never been crucioed before, Harry beating her in that regard yet again, and could finally empathize with the pain described in all of her journals. Beyond describable, one account said. Not a single inch of your body unscathed, another attested.

It felt like hours, but could've been minutes.

At one point, Bellatrix wrenched the potato sack over her head, so she was nude like all the others. There was nothing to claw but herself - and Bellatrix - if she bothered to stay close enough, for the infliction.

Eventually it stopped, and Hermione lay on the floor, shoulders racking up and down. Her vocal chords felt raw, like she had spent her entire time screaming. Funny thing that. She couldn't even remember.

"Upstairs!" Bellatrix barked. "Don't bother shielding yourself. There's nothing important enough to hide."

Hermione rolled over, and got to her knees. Where did she even find the strength to stand? She staggered up the stairs, leading out of the dungeon, and didn't consider her state of undress until well out in the open. Several deatheaters were staring at her in unparalleled surprise and hunger. Was her creamy, disfigured skin that inviting?

"That's - That's inappropriate," Rodolphus stuttered, turning vivid red, and twirling to face the wall. Yaxley and Nott, two irksome men who had popped in for a visit, were much less gentlemanly.

"Why, boys," Yaxley licked his lips. "I do believe I found lunch."

"Bet she's got a wet, tight hole," Nott leered.

"Me first," Yaxley flicked back his cloak, and was seconds from reaching her, when he spotted something above her head, and quickly made a U-turn back to his friends. Rodolphus was still staring fixedly at the wall, not wanting to betray Bellatrix.

Hermione felt a tingle creep up her spine, even in her tired state. It was a prickly sort of awareness she recognised from her dream, and belonged to a certain someone.

"Golly," she heard Draco's impressed voice. "I've been gone ten minutes, and she's already done a bigger number than I could hope for."

A warm, slightly damp cloak enclosed her shoulders and Hermione looked up at Draco's wry face. He put both hands on her shoulders, and Hermione automatically clasped both ends of the cloak together, above her breasts. She was being rescued. Draco Malfoy was being attentive and slightly protective over her.

Was she reading into it too much?

"Come on, slave," he said jokingly. "Let's get you up to my room so I can inspect the damage more closely."

Yaxley looked like he was chewing a wasp, watching them walk back-to-front up the stairs together. Hermione withdrew into the cloak, and decided it smelt slightly musky. Was that his natural scent? Or did it come from a bottle?

The second they stepped into the room, the aura changed. It grew more threatening and frictional, a palpable cloud hovering over the room. Hermione chanced a look at Draco, and noticed he was more distant, not willing to interact with her.

The Draco who had met her at the hallway, and the Draco present were two separate entities.

Hermione walked over to the chains, and collapsed. She was shrouded in a soft bundle, and it was tempting to nod off to sleep, and ignore the residual pain always lingering in her bones. Draco, for the most part, ignored her. He went to the cabinet, beside his bed, and poured himself a glass of firewhisky.

Then he used his wand, to levitate the armchair closer to the window, directed away from her. His room faced southwards, towards the main entrance, complete with formidable driveway, peacocks and marble fountain.

He poured himself three glasses like that, watching the view.

After the third, he slammed the glass on the windowsill, making Hermione jump from her sleep.

"Give back my cloak," he said through gritted teeth. "Who said you can keep it?"

Flummoxed, Hermione thought she imagined his voice. He still had his back to her, and was fingering the rim of his glass like it was something precious. But then he barked, something along the lines of "NOW!" and Hermione rushed to untie the knot she had placed.

"Here!" she cried, throwing it against the bed. "I don't want it!"

"Bring it to me," Draco menaced, "And when you do, I want you to call me master."

Hermione's upper lip twitched, possibly to curl in disdain. His ridiculous need to be indulged probably stemmed from having parents who catered to his every whim. Grumbling under her breath, she fetched the cloak, and stomped as humanly possible, to the chair.

"Here you go, Master," she gave a lopsided curtsey, relieved he was still focusing far into the distance, rather than her bludgeoned body. She placed it on his lap, guessing that's where he needed it most.

"Sit on my lap and pour me a glass."

What? Was Malfoy drunk? Hermione peered at the crown of his hair, as if that gave any clue to how sober the owner was. She decided to risk perching on the armrest of the chair, and reached for the bottle of firewhisky. Malfoy held out his glass, and didn't question why she wasn't on his lap.

"Here," he gestured for her to take the glass. "Have a sip."

"I don't think I want too," Hermione frowned.

"But I insist," there was that threatening vibe again. "Unless you want to be sent back to the dungeons for round two."

Hermione snatched the glass, and took a big gulp.

"Now me," he was patient, like he was dealing with a child. Hermione gagged, and shoved the glass in his face, where Malfoy took a contemplative sip. She could hear him rolling it around on his tongue, and assessing the fiery burn of the drink. "Could do with a little ice," he shrugged.

"You were fine before," Hermione said, incredulous.

This was so unnerving. She was sitting bullock naked in close proximity to Draco Malfoy, and he was keeping his eyes on the grounds outside, or on her face, like a propitious 18th century gent. "Take a sip," he gently encouraged, and Hermione once again brought her quaking hand near the general vicinity of her mouth.

It all happened without warning.

It all happened without warning.

Draco's piercing gaze unsettled Hermione enough, she accidentally ended pouring some of the firewhisky down her chin. Half of it trickled into her hair, and the other half continued down the smooth slope of her collarbone and drizzled down her breast.

Purely out of shock, Hermione grasped Draco's shoulder to push him away. What she didn't expect, was for his teeth to violently latch onto her nipple and suck. "Malfoy!" she cried, as he pulled her forward onto his arms, and lapped at the firewhisky coating her breast in a sticky manner.

Was he dying of thirst?

"Malfoy!" Hermione repeated again, loudly. Her voice couldn't seem to penetrate through his haze. He was worshipping her breast like it was a tender, succulent piece of tenderloin laid in a spread before him. She couldn't lie. His gratifying tongue was making questionable things fizz in her stomach. But this wasn't how it was meant to be. Her first time wasn't meant to be like this!

"Stop," she hissed.

Something must have flickered, because Draco detached his mouth and let his hands drop. "What?" he shrugged. "Naked women usually means sucking boobies. A thing I'm very good at." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Merlin, you're disgusting," Hermione glared at him.

"Where's Potter?" Draco asked, smirking. "If you tell me his location, I promise, I won't detain you any further."

"You're going to give me Veritaserum anyway," Hermione realised. "That's why you're not torturing me specifically about him. Bellatrix, you, all the deatheaters. You're only doing this for fun."

"I wish I could say that was false," Draco bowed his head.

"If you don't kill me, I will try my damn hardest to escape," Hermione made a vow, even if it didn't have any magic lurking behind it. "And then I will come back, and set torch to this place. Everything you have worked for. Everything your ancestors built. It will be reduced to ash…"

"Can we finish what we started?" Draco interrupted.

O

AN: Thank you to my 6 reviewers. Running short on time, please understand, so won't be able to reply individually.
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Yes, Master