Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

You Won't Know	By : valkyrie136 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 16435 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the fandom. J.K. Rowling does. I do not make any profit from Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

Chapter List
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Draco apparated into Knockturn Ally. He followed a series of winding twists and turns and turns before he ran into two familiar figures.

Potter and Weasley.

During the first few months as a death eater, he had learned very quickly that the art of deception and artifice was a skill he would need not only to survive but to flourish. It made sense then that he would be given the auspicious mission of killing Dumbledore.

Fortunately for Draco, Snape had succeeded where Draco had faltered. Draco had still been young, and Potter had seen it all.

Potter, who had been the hardest to convince of his ‘changed’ ways when he had agreed to work on their side to bring about the Dark Lord’s Downfall.

Snape had, after all, been the bad guy.

But once convinced, Potter had been his staunchest supporter.

Draco detested the farce he had chosen to play, but everything had been part of the game. He was ambitious, after all. He was a Malfoy.

When the Dark Lord had fallen, despite retaining a thorough disgust of all thing’s muggle, the family had been spared the trials.

Draco now stood facing Potter and Weasley, whom he detested above all others, because the three of them worked for the Ministry of Magic.

Potter and Weasley, both Aurors, made it their business catching criminals.

Draco successfully obtained a position on the Wizengamot—after all, he could not have death eaters running amok, implicating him in heinous crimes. At least for now.

Draco looked at them inquiringly, wondering why the hell they chose such unattractive surroundings for these meetings. He barely managed to suppress a yawn.

Potter shook his hand, before breaking out into a grin, “We meant to meet someplace else, but we didn’t have time; work and all.” He glanced at Ron.

Weasley grinned, and Draco had an image of him laying in the snow, face smashed in.

Draco smiled, “What is it?”

“It’s me ‘Mione. We’re—we’re getting married!” Draco’s smile never changed, and he just stared at him, feeling like he was someone else for a moment.

We’re getting married.

“You see, we were going to wait, but well, it get’s better—it seems I’m going to be a dad!”

Potter punched him the shoulder playfully, “Can you believe it? Good things do happen after all this evil.”

Ron laughed, his face red, “I asked Harry to be the godfather, you know, but I wanted to tell you first before we broke the news to everyone. Hermione already said it was ok. She’s so excited and we’ve been thinking of names.”

Draco was laughing, and his hand was shaking. The idiots didn’t know he was in danger of reaching for his wand and killing them both.

A baby? She was fucking going to have his child? And marry him?

She couldn’t! She was his, Draco’s, hadn’t he fucked her enough already? Marked her enough?

She was in his house, in her room, that he had specially made for her, and she was going to marry this fucking bastard?!

And have his fucking child!

He was going to kill them all. First the Weasel, then Potter, then her, the fucking trollop.

With a calm he did not possess, Draco smiled coolly said, “You must tell me when the wedding is.”

“Of course, of course!” Potter slapped him on the back, and he barely managed not to flinch in disgust, “We’ll have to go out for drinks later. But not now—work, you know. We’re off Malfoy.”

They waved, and then apparated.

Malfoy stood there for a minute, shaking, before he apparated back home.

Stalking inside, he brutally kicked a house elf who had the misfortune of standing in his way.

It took less than a minute to get to her room.

She had showered sense he left, and had wrapped a sheet around herself.

In the middle of pacing, she abruptly stopped, and slowly turned to look at him.

Smiling slowly, he said in a too-sweet voice, “Darling, what’s this I hear about a wedding? You’re going to marry a…a Weasley? I’m afraid I don’t understand. Explain this to me.”

Hermione swallowed, and took a step back, not saying anything.

Draco’s smile faded, and he closed the distant between them, jerking her painfully against him. She would have new bruises to join the others.

Good, she deserved these ones.

“Tell me, now, about the abomination growing in your stomach, hmm? What has this little whore been doing with little Won Won? And here I thought you a prude.”

“When Ron finds out he’s going to kill you—“

He backhanded her, sending her across the room and into the wall.

Shocked, Hermione held her hand to her face and let out a choking sob.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, wanting to scream. He hated her. He hated them all, he hated himself.

“That’s alright,” He said, still looking up at the ceiling, talking more to himself than to her, “Because he isn’t going to find out. I’ll figure something out.”

Hermione was trembling uncontrollably, “Malfoy, w-why are you d-doing this?”

Slowly, he turned to look at her, his hair falling in his face. “Granger, I like fucking you a little more than the average witch.” He laughed, a loud, uncontrollable laugh that reeked of lunacy, “You might say it’s a lot more than the average witch. Merlin, if there was an understatement, well there it is.”

He straightened, and was all seriousness again. He slowly moved towards her, and she fingered the piece of broken glass in her hand. She had broken the tiny window in the bathroom to salvage that piece.

When he was close enough, she lashed out at him, cutting his cheek, and he hissed.

He tackled her to the floor, plucked the piece from her hand and tossed it somewhere behind him.

“Always full of surprises Hermione.” He was angry, “I’m afraid I’ll have to hurt you in equal measure for that one. You see, it’s the only way you’ll learn to behave.”

Crying loudly, she squirmed and wriggled as he ripped the sheet away, exposing her body.

He brutally pinched and pulled on her nipples, and she squealed in pain, eliciting nothing but his comments, “What, you don’t like that?”

Without any care for her or her body, he brutally forced her legs opened and stared at pussy, neatly trimmed.

“Why Hermione, are you wet down here?” He reached down and rubbed his fingers over the delicate folds.

She was only a little wet, not enough to make this in any way comfortable for her, but enough for him to seize upon, “Why, what would Weasley think of this? His beloved fiancée laying here, legs spread; wet and willing to be fucked by his friend? Hmm?” He forced a finger inside and she screamed, the muscles tensing around his fingers.

He laughed, “It’s just my finger love. Not my prick. Yet.’

She was shaking and horrified and he was so angered by this that he wanted to make her suffer even more.

He didn’t usually talk to her this much, but he was angry, so angry.

Pulling his pants down, his cock sprang free, and he stroked it lovingly. Oh yes, she knew what this meant. Her eyes widened, and she renewed her struggles.

His fingers dug painfully into her hips, and he knew she would have bruises there as well.

Good.

He plunged in, balls deep, and her scream bounced off the walls and probably throughout Malfoy Manor; the room was not sound proofed. But he liked it that way. He liked knowing that no matter how much she screamed no one would come for her.

At least here, she was completely his. His to possess. His to own.

“Please stop! It hurts!” She begged, pushing at his hips, but he was already moving in and out, savoring her cries and the tight velvety clasp of her pussy.

He took her like a savage beast, bruising her hips, cumming on a loud roar.

Gasping for breath, his hair over his face, he kneeled there for a moment before pulling out with a squishy pop, and watched in fascination as cum poured out.

So much cum, and it wouldn’t take root, because another man’s seed was already growing.

Growling, he rolled her over onto her stomach and she whimpered in pain.

He pulled her hips up and spread her ass cheeks. He stared at the puckered rose bud of her anus and grinned.

“All whores like it here.”

“Please don’t.” She begged.

His dick was hard, and he plunged it inside.

She screamed and howled, trying to crawl away, but he held her still. Her muscles were tense, and so he had to keep forcing himself in until he was inside completely.

It was the tightest fit ever, and her screams were a soothing balm to the anger and torment he felt raging inside.

He pulled out and thrust back in, balls deep.

“Do you like how it feels, you fucking mud blood bitch? Being fucked in the ass by a pure blood like me?” He pulled back out and then thrust back in, and she screamed, “Does that blood traitor make you feel this way? Or does he not have the balls to put you in your rightful place?”

He was going to cum soon; he could feel it building.

Nails digging so hard into her hips that he cut her, he finally came, shooting load after load of cum into her. He saw stars, and dizzily leaned over her, and whispered brokenly into her ear, “Only you, Hermione, only you.”

Sluggishly, he pulled out and watched again as his cum poured out of her ass. Cum, and blood.

She collapsed in a heap, moaning and sobbing in pain.

He must’ve hurt her bad, but he doubted it was little recompense for the pain he felt inside. Those wounds could heal. But not the ones she had inflicted on him.

Sighing, he crawled towards her and stroked her hair, and then picked her up, carrying her gently towards the bed and lay down next to her.

He knew she would be in too much pain to move, so he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, stroking her hair the way a lover would.

It was a long time before sleep finally claimed them.
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