Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Devil's Obsession	By : Refictionista Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 25159 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off this fic because everything in the Wizarding world of Harry Potter belongs to Rowling, or maybe Warner Bros. I'm honestly not sure who exactly.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter Four

Exhausting Hermione Granger’s Willpower
Elphias Doge, in Practical Potioneer, contributes the following:

Tentiginis Tonic is the most powerful lust potion in existence. It doesn’t create false love like Amortentia; in fact, it actually doesn’t alter emotions at all. The victim under effect of the potion will experience increased libidinousness and decreased impulse control.
Wizards have brewed Tentiginis Tonic for centuries to treat erectile dysfunction. Its appearance is pale pink and cloudy, with a static electric sheen when held up to moonlight. Vapors will rise out of a vial in a unique double helix spiral. The ingredients are similar to that of Amortentia with the exception of velvet beans as a replacement for gardenia petals.
The velvet beans are a controversial ingredient, making Tentiginis Tonic even more morally questionable than Amortentia.
Muggle science shows that velvet bean extract contains L-Dopa, which is the immediate precursor of Dopamine. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that promotes enjoyment and interest in life. A wide variety of Muggle addictive drugs increase dopamine neuronal activity, but wizards caught on to this centuries before Muggles even had a clue.

It is common knowledge amongst herbologists and potioneers that, shortly after Hogwarts was founded, a herbology professor grew velvet beans near the venomous tentacula section of the greenhouse. This particular wizard had hoped to calm the dangerous plants down to more manageable levels using the velvet beans, or at least keep the venomous tentacula from strangling unsuspecting students.
While the velvet beans did indeed have a calming effect, they began to wreak their own havoc among the students. Several duels broke out between young wizards fighting over pretty young witches. For suddenly, the teenage boys showed more interest in the girls than usual.
The girls, unfortunately, returned that same interest to the boys fighting over them.
In one duel, a young wizard threw out a rather effective spell that slashed the other boy’s hand. When the boy raised his wand to retaliate, he flung three drops of his blood across the courtyard. The blood landed in the mouth of a witch cheering amongst the onlookers.
Over the course of the week, the young witch began to look at the boy with interest. Each time she stared at him, she felt a wave of pleasure. Each time they were apart, she felt empty and withdrawn. When she saw him, everything seemed whole, the world whimsical and perfect. He was all she needed, all she could ever want. He was perfect.
Her addiction was such that she cared for nothing else. Everything she once held dear fell by the wayside: her interests, her friends, her studies. She would do anything to procure a moment in his presence. She became someone else.
Her friends noticed this change and dragged her to the Hospital Wing.
Unfortunately, an addiction cannot be cured with the wave of a magic wand, even in the wizarding world. As this was a time when chivalry reigned, the young wizard offered to marry the witch. He appreciated her devotion to him, even if her love was the manifestation of a potion’s enslavement.
However, the dangers of using blood magic with Tentiginis Tonic had been noted. Strong warnings were given and laws were enacted, specifying the proper use of Tentiginis Tonic, and the wizarding world soon forgot the reason for the restrictions.
Except, the Malfoys knew. It was one of their family secrets. One of their medieval ancestors, Nicholas Malfoy, was the young wizard who had inadvertently used blood magic on his future bride.
And he had kept a diary.
A diary that Draco Malfoy found in the manor’s vast library. He found what he read in the diary very useful indeed. It taught him how to attain the one thing he once thought he could never have: he could finally force her to love him.

§

Monday, May 16, 1998

Hermione hated Draco. The hatred burned her heart. What made it even worse was that pain came from all sides. She grieved for Harry. She couldn’t stop hearing Lavender's screams. And Merlin, she missed Ron, so much that she couldn’t believe he was gone.
She prayed that Ron’s spirit didn’t still roam this world. She couldn’t bear the thought of his ghost knowing what she had been reduced to doing... or finding out her shameful desires.
Every day, Hermione told herself it would be the last. Every night, as she fell asleep in his bed, she told herself that tomorrow she’d fight back, run away, or go find her parents in Australia. It didn’t matter where she went, as long as it wasn’t here. She needed to get away from Malfoy Manor—away from him—before this sick, twisted perversion in his mind continued for even one more second.
Then he would touch her, and her convictions would shatter yet again, disappearing like charmed feathers in the wind.
And that shattering was happening sooner and sooner each time.
She was so afraid. Hermione knew that she was losing herself and who she was as an individual. But, even that fear, which had caused her to vomit in the beginning, was fading as well.
Hermione tried desperately to hold on to the fact that Ron loved, truly loved, her. Every time Draco touched her, that fact became slightly more blurry.
And she began to feel slightly more content.

§

Friday, May 20, 1998

“How well will it work?” Draco asked the goblin.
“I assure you, sir, goblin-made jewelry is the best choice you could make. Dwarves from the Hidden Mines unearthed these emeralds, and their magic is strong. You won’t find another gem woven with such power of loyalty and successful love; however, should you wish for more powerful enchantments, I can recommend a wizard adept in such charms.”
“Yes,” Draco said, “do that. I want only the best.”
The goblin gave him two names. Draco chose the wizard from Knockturn Alley. He had no need for the typical love charms. His bride was a strong witch, and more questionable magic might be necessary, even though Draco knew Hermione’s addiction was finally taking hold. He almost respected the willpower that had helped her to hold on so far.
Almost.
Her continued struggles had finally become rather half-hearted, yet he wasn’t going to underestimate her. His Aunt Bella might think that Mudbloods had inferior magic, but Draco knew better.
Hermione was a powerful witch. She was more adept at magic than he was. He could easily overpower her, but he still needed to seduce her.
Draco had started by not calling Hermione a Mudblood while in her presence. The illusion of that respect actually began unexpectedly.
He had hired a well-known stylist to fix Hermione’s repulsive mess of bushy curls. The witch arrived at the manor, flirting outrageously with Draco, but he was repulsed by her too-tight dress and heavy makeup.
The half-blooded tart wasn’t a natural beauty like his Hermione.
Still, the crass woman was well-known in the wizarding world for her beauty makeovers. She had a reputation for taking inbred pureblood daughters and turning them into elegant beauties.
He led her into his private rooms. With a startled look, Hermione stood and moved over to the vanity. The stylist took her place behind his prized possession.
“Do all Mudbloods have hair this awful?” she asked, sneering into the mirror at Hermione’s reflection.
Draco backhanded the vulgar witch hard enough to knock her off her stiletto heels and send her sprawling across the floor.
“Mind your language in my home and never speak to her that way again. She is my placée and will be treated with respect and as a member of this household. If you cough wrong or pull one hair on her head too hard, I’ll kill you.”
The rest of the appointment proceeded without further need for disciplinary action on his part.
“I apologize for that display of uncouth behavior,” said Draco after the stylist left.
Hermione didn’t know if he was referring to the woman’s insult or his own violent actions.
“Finding good help is difficult right now. People fear going outside now that the Dark Lord has assumed power, so we didn’t have much choice. Regardless, your hair looks divine. You look like a princess, my love.”
“Don’t call me that,” said Hermione quietly. Draco knew it was more of a habit than an actual protest on her part.
"I shall call you by what you are, and I think from now on I will call you beautiful."
"Why on earth would you do that?"
Draco pulled her up to make Hermione face herself in the mirror. Her hair fell down in softly curled ringlets on her shoulders. "Because you are," he said simply.
Hermione shook her head, and in the process angered Draco. Did this Mudblood not recognize her extraordinary beauty?
"Granger," he almost snarled, "you are fucking gorgeous. I wouldn't want someone with your filthy blood so badly otherwise." She cringed as if he had struck her. "If you had been a pureblood, I would have worshiped the ground under your feet. You should be grateful that I chose to raise you to a higher station when your place should be in the mud."
Her eyes watered, but no tears fell. Draco felt something that felt almost like sympathy.
Almost.
"Wait here," he commanded. "I have something that will improve your mood."
He left the room, and Hermione collapsed on the vanity stool. She leaned forward and hide her face in her arms.
Why can't I cry? she wondered.
Hermione raised her head and looked at her reflection. Her hair really did look quite lovely. Honestly, she looked like a princess.
Draco returned with a velvet box in his hands. He opened it to reveal an extravagant emerald necklace. Its large jewels were surrounded by diamonds in a star pattern. Hanging at the front was an enormous octagonal step-cut emerald, surrounded by even larger diamonds. He took it out of the box and placed it on her neck. It was heavy, and the multitude of facets refracted light all around them. It made Hermione feel like she was in a room full of twinkling stars.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Beauty deserves beauty, my love.”
She smiled, for a brief second Draco saw her completely relaxed and almost happy, but then her brow crinkled and she looked away.
That didn’t matter, he thought. She had smiled... and she hadn’t told him not to call her his love.

§

Sunday, May 22, 1998

Hermione was anxious. Not because of the situation with Draco--this was something else. The room temperature seemed perfectly fine, but she couldn’t stop sweating. She was nervous and jumpy, even when just staring out the window.
“Love,” said Draco, “what’s wrong?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t avoid the question.” Draco frowned and grabbed her arm. “What have you been doing to yourself, Hermione?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” she replied, trying to pull out of his grasp. “Just a scratch.”
“A scratch doesn’t nearly break the skin.”
Suddenly his face softened, and he crossed the room to sit by the fire.
"Come here," he murmured. "I'll help you." He gestured for her to join him on the rug by the fireplace.
"Please," Hermione pleaded, trying to hold on to the reason this was wrong. She felt so muddle-headed the last few days. "You need to let me go. Staying here does something to me. I’m either losing my mind or I’m sick.”
“You’re not sick, Hermione,” Draco said slowly. “You’re suffering from withdrawal. We haven’t been intimate since our first night, but only because I know you still view that as an unpleasant experience. You’ve become confused, and you even think I forced you. You have to know how much we love each other. However, if you sit by me, then I can help you.”
Hermione ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. The weight of the jewels pressed heavily between her breasts.
“Malfoy... Draco, please let me go.”
Draco looked at her with what seemed like pity. “That isn’t possible, and you know it.” Hermione hadn’t realized that she had walked across the room until Draco was pulling her down next to him. “You’re mine,” he whispered.
He sat her down sideways in his lap and held her. “Do you feel a little better now that I’m holding you?” he asked.
“A little. I feel calmer, but that's only because your spell is making this happen."
"I see."
"No, you don't. You're obsessed, Malfoy. Just let me go. If you really loved me, then you would know that nothing good could come from this."
He acted like he didn’t hear her. “Come,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I think it is time for my girl to go to bed. I’ll hold you until you fall asleep.”

§

Monday, May 23, 1998

When Hermione woke, the first thing she noticed was that her mind felt clearer. She rubbed her neck, realizing that Draco must have taken off the necklace during her sleep. She sat up.
“Good, you’re awake.”
Draco was sitting in a wingback chair, reading a book.
“I know you raped me,” she said without preamble, clutching the bedsheets tightly. “I know that necklace made me forget.”
“I didn’t rape you.”
Hermione jumped out of bed at that. “YES, YOU DID!” she screamed.
“No,” said Draco calmly, “I didn’t, and I can prove it.”
“Like I would ever believe anything you say. You can’t keep me under your spells constantly, I will always remember the truth.”
“You don’t remember the truth, and I can prove it.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, it is called a Pensieve,” he said. She took a step backwards. “Come on, I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave,” mocked Draco.
“I just want to know what memory you’re going to show me first.”
“One that I already share with you,” he said, leering at her.
“You bastard!” she cried. Hermione turned to back away and spit at him, but he grabbed her by the hair. He wound the braid around his wrist in a firm grip.
“I assure you,” he snarled, “my parents were most definitely married.” He gave her hair a sharp yank. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” she whimpered.
Draco dragged Hermione over to the basin and released her, gesturing towards the swirling silvery mist inside the rim.
“Get in,” he ordered.
“Mal--Draco, please,” she begged. “Please don’t make me watch my own rape.”
With a shove, Draco forced her to bend over the basin. The mist dissipated and became transparent. She looked down into it, seeing Draco’s bedroom instead of the bottom of the bowl.
Not wanting to witness what happened, Hermione tried to lean back. Draco grabbed the back of her neck, squeezing it painfully, and dunked her into the Pensieve.
Together, they lurched forward. They were falling through a cold darkness, and before Hermione could scream she found herself sitting at the bottom of Draco’s ornate bed.
Draco, the real Draco, stood beside her with a hand on her shoulder. He was smirking at the scene before them. She watched in disbelief the scene unfolding.
The memory Draco calling her superficial and throwing her on the bed. For a second time, she realized how she wasn’t fighting back and was actively participating.
“You’re absolutely dripping wet, Hermione,” said the memory Draco as he licked the side of her neck and breathed into her ear. Memory Hermione moaned in response when he shifted downward, planting kisses down her stomach and then blowing softly between her legs.
The real Draco lifted Hermione’s chin up to face him as he stood above her. “I could feel the dampness on your thighs before I even touched you. The heat called to me. You’re bewitching when experiencing ecstasy, my love.”
Hermione could hear the sounds of her past self begging Draco.
“Merlin, I’m hard just thinking about how wet you were. How you begged for my cock. I gave you exactly what you wanted, didn’t I?” He pushed her down on the mattress.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, startled.
“We’re going to fuck now.”
“We can’t do that here, in a Pensieve.”
He stopped undressing her, a curious look on his face. “Why not?”
“I don’t know,” she sputtered, “but I’m fairly certain that this isn’t how you are supposed to use one.”
He laughed, amused by her adherence to the proper use of magical equipment. “We don’t have to follow any rules, my love. We’re Malfoys, and we always do what we want.”
“I’m not a Malfoy.”
“Yes, you are,” he growled, ripping the buttons off her shirt as he tore it open. “You’re Hermione Malfoy now, and you’re mine, all mine.” He stared greedily at her bared before him. “Merlin, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe.
Hermione wasn’t sure when she had begun to crave Draco’s attentions, but she didn’t try to deny herself anymore.

§

A month later when she found herself pregnant, she had already forgotten ever resisting Draco. He had been so happy when she told him that they were expecting a child, and had given her a new emerald bracelet to match her necklace and earrings.

She rolled over in their bed, smiling as the morning sun falling through the windows caressed her face. Hermione looked into a pair of loving grey eyes staring intently back at her.
“Good morning, my love,” he drawled in a sleepy voice.
“Good morning to you too, love.”
He smiled and caressed her cheek, drawing her into a kiss.
The earrings and necklace kept her from seeing the truth: that his eyes were cold and inhuman, glimmering with amusement. She could only see how, up close, he was even more beautiful, with high cheekbones and hair slicked back neatly over his head, un-mussed during sleep. Hermione longed to run her fingers through his careful styling and tousle his white blonde hair.
Hermione smiled as his head came down and his lips claimed hers.
She moaned slightly as their lips connected, and she was only vaguely aware of the fact that his hands were wandering over her body. Hermione returned the kiss as everything inside her melted, a small gasp escaping her lips as Draco's hand suddenly grasped a breast. He started to knead it, and her arms came up around his neck.
Draco pressed against her as their tongues connected, and the little whimper Hermione let out seemed to egg him on. His hand left her breast and he moved down to cup her buttocks with both palms. He pulled her closer to him, and Hermione was suddenly drawn against the proof that Draco was enjoying this as much as she seemed to be.
"You are the most delectable witch I have ever known," he murmured, breaking their kiss. "Allow me to demonstrate."
His fingers slipped down under her pajama shorts, tugging them down slightly. Hermione's breath shortened as one digit slid down along her slit, her hips bucking involuntarily against his hand. Then Draco added other fingers and began a light rubbing that had her clinging to him desperately.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione saw the face of a redheaded boy, and her sensible side was trying desperately to call her back from the euphoria so that she could push Draco away because it seemed important. However, Draco's fingers were keeping that part of her brain at bay. As his fingers increased pressure and speed, Hermione could feel an orgasm building, and soon she was cumming into his hand.
Her body slumped against his, and she didn't offer any resistance as he pulled her shorts down to her ankles, yanking them off. He unlaced his own pants, letting his arousal spring free. Hermione's hands slid down his chest, intending to return the pleasure, but he was kissing her again, and her mind was blank with her own needs once more. "I am so proud of you," she heard him say, "you became pregnant so quickly. That pleased me more than anything else." She relaxed into his kiss with a moan, and Draco slid his length along her moist opening before sliding in.
Hermione gasped as he filled her to the hilt, and he let out a growl of satisfaction. She caught a glimpse of Draco smirking as he began to move within her. She flung her head back as his lips and teeth moved to her neck, nibbling and suckling, which was sure to leave marks.
Draco was ferociously pounding into her now, and Hermione brought a leg up, wrapping it around him in an attempt to bring him even closer to her. He grunted at the increased access and thrust in deeper than he had before. She squeaked at the extra pressure, clinging on to him for dear life.
Her orgasm was building up again; she could feel it slowly approaching. But then Draco reached down, tweaking her clit, rushing her into her orgasm as the extra sensation had them both falling over the edge together. Hermione felt his white hot seed shoot up deep inside her, even as she spilled onto his hot length, and her body collapsed against his. They were a mass of sweat and cum, and her breathing was labored to the point that she was gasping slightly for air.
Draco was breathing hard but he looked up, staring her straight in the eye. "I told you," he breathed, "that you are the most delectable witch I have ever known. I waited too long just wanting you. Now I have you."
"And I have you."
He smiled. "What shall we do next?" he asked, rubbing her increasing belly possessively. Hermione practically purred from the attention. It really was the best way to possess a woman: to put one’s child in her belly.
“Get up?” Hermione stretched. “Maybe some breakfast."
"Get up? Now? By Merlin's two left testicles!" he exclaimed. "No, witch. We aren't even close to being finished with bedplay this morning," he told her.
She blushed.
He smiled back. Draco had broken her, a child was on the way, and now life was good. He finally had everything he desired.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Devil's Obsession