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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5: We could be Allies

O

"No." Hermione said brusquely. "I'm making a serious threat here."

"I'm sorry," Draco stared up at her. "I just can't take you seriously."

There was a pregnant pause, where they considered each other, Draco's eyes flickering downward occasionally. Hermione was thrown for words. Usually, people took her very seriously, when she had something to say, and sometimes needed gentle reminding that she could joke. One time, Lavender had jumped out of her bed when Hermione emitted a short yelp from the bathroom.

"My hair!" Hermione noticed the curls were more boisterous than normal. "I need a pitchfork to unravel this mess."

"Oh," Lavender blinked. "You should probably head over to the nearest Gardening Centre."

"What?!" Hermione poked her head out, hairbrush caught mid-tangle.

"It's the most logical place to find one."

"I was joking, Lavender. I don't really need a pitchfork."

Lavender turned bright red. "Of course I knew you were joking. I was joking back. Haha."

Though now thinking about it, maybe Lavender was being intentionally mean, to shield her growing insecurities about Ron's wandering eye. Shortly after that exchange, Lavender and Ron broke up, and Hermione never really did find out, if she was joking or not. Hermione was drawn back to the present, when Draco took advantage of her wandering attention, and lent in for a second mouthful. His hand crept up and cupped a breast, fitting neatly under the curve and gave it a wobble, smirking, as it rippled and spilled over in his hand.

"Beautiful," he gave a squeeze.

Hermione gasped at the tug, and slipped from the arm-rest. She ended up straddling Draco's knee, facing the window, with Malfoy's head propped over one shoulder. If a keen, neighbouring birdwatcher, happened to point binoculars in their particular direction at that second, there would be a good chance he would have seen tits of a different kind.

Malfoy was panting in her ear, clearly aroused, and pushing his stiffening erection into her behind. Hermione, in the dim recesses of her mind, knew this was wrong. She was only reacting physically because her dreams had lead her astray, and now believed Malfoy was the perverse, dysfunctional answer to her delayed sexual awakening.

Draco was now dropping kisses on her neck, as he kneaded her mound.

Reality was starting to trickle in.

This man was her enemy.

Inebriated.

Soulless.

War Criminal.

Giving a loud Amazonian cry, Hermione slithered free from Draco's grip and grabbed the cloak sitting on his lap along the way. She needed it more than he did, and her legs were trembling again. Hermione managed to make it back to her former spot, before lethargy took over and unconciousness crept over her soul.

There was banging on the door. Hermione stirred, also cognizant to the supplementary sound of a shower running. "Open up!" came the yells of a demented aunt. "Open this door, or I shall blow it apart!"

Hermione stared at the door.

"ALOHOMORA!"

Bellatrix stood over the entrance, chest heaving, and scanning the room with heavily lidded scepticism. Certain her nephew was still rubbing his skin raw in the ensuite bathroom, Bellatrix's descent on the mudblood was rudimentarily premeditated. She sniffed at the mudblood, clearly naked under that cloak.

"I didn't hear any screaming."

Hermione was still staring.

"Draco promised me he will whip you every morning, until my ears bled in happiness from all the screaming." Bellatrix crouched down. "Why did he lie?"

"I don't know."

"He rutted you, didn't he? I can tell by one look. I don't blame the boy for taking his fill, you good-for-nothing shit, but don't get any funny ideas about breeding his spawn. This house is protected against any of that nonsense. He could fuck you, every single hour of the day, and nothing will come of it."

Hermione flinched.

"Finally sinking in, dear?"

The creepy weirdo took a strand of Hermione's hair, and took a big whiff, as if she wanted to know what a mudblood smelt like. The sounds of the shower had long stopped. The door separating the ensuite bathroom, to Draco's room opened, and a cloud of hot steam billowed out.

Out of the mist, a stern and formal individual emerged.

Draco was back to his stony best. His hair was flattened and parted at the side. Eyes, cold and uncaring. The deatheater robes he wore with pride, was slightly thicker than the ones Hermione was curled up in, and kept his skin flush and protected. If she could only remember bits and pieces from last night, Draco looked like he remembered nothing.

Although that still didn't explain why he scrubbed his skin so hard.

"Draco," Bellatrix rocked her shoulders impatiently. "I need my daily fix. Why don't you spank, and I'll watch."

Hermione and Draco reacted unfavourably.

"Aunt," he complained. "I'm not touching her."

"Why?" Bellatrix bared her teeth.

"I just washed," he gestured at his body. "I don't want to get germs on my clothes."

Bellatrix shot him an evil look, brandishing her wand, and gave Hermione a mental flashback to her time in the Dungeons, when Bellatrix tried to choreograph a rape in the cells. Disgust was curling in her belly, a standard response that was becoming more common. Draco was arguing his case more heatedly now, and Hermione dared to hope she was witnessing an uprisal.

"Aunt, you're asking me to drown in disinfectant."

"I don't care."

Draco cursed under his breath, and went over to the bed. "What the hell," he muttered "Slave! Come here, and lie across my knee."

Hermione scoffed.

He didn't get a chance to react to that, before Bellatrix leapt in and clouted Hermione across the face. Her lip burst on contact, but she valiantly tried to keep the shock from taking over her expression. Even though she wasn't feeling it, Hermione had to put forward an image of self-control and assessment of what was going on around her. Maybe this would be her saving grace.

"Enough!" Draco snapped. "I can discipline my own slave, without your added input, Bellatrix."

"Show me."

Malfoy sat down hard on the mattress, and spoke in a low voice only meant for her. "Granger. I'm not going to ask you again. Come lie on my knee or I'll let my aunt take over the reins."

Bellatrix remained crouched by the chains, and watched beadily as the mudblood bitch finally complied. Hermione wore a thunderous expression, as she lowered her abdomen across his knees and met the witch's eyes directly. Draco brought his hand down hard, on her cloaked rump.

"No," Bellatrix choked. "Flesh."

Malfoy snarled. He pulled up the cloak, till it was hitched around her waist, and again brought down his hand with power. Hermione yelped, the smack forcing a blood rush to her left buttock, and leaving an imprint of his palm behind. Hermione's eyes watered, and again she was fighting feelings of degradation as Bellatrix watched.

She had to be touch to survive this.

Draco spanked her again, and she knew he was counting down as much as she was. This made it slightly better. Even though she had no sympathy for the git, at least he wasn't relishing over her surrender. The next slap was alternated to her other buttock. As her hips involuntarily jerked, a pool of liquid gathered between her legs.

A second later, her arousal hit the air and Draco's nose twitched, smelling it.

This was even worse.

Hermione buried her head into the duvet covers, unwilling to look up any longer, and tried to ignore her folds coated with slick discharge, as the smacks continued raining down on her arse. Eventually, they petered out, and Draco pulled down her cloak with a perturbed face.

"Get out," he ordered Bellatrix.

"My pleasure," she cackled.

She swanned out of the room, flicking her hand in an appreciative wave and heading towards the stairs. Draco stood up, causing Hermione to fall, but not before she saw a visible tent in his trousers. Clearly, he wasn't unaffected as he portrayed. "Merlin," he looked up at the ceiling. "Whatever I do, I'm always forced to touch this mudblood. I wash to get rid of her muck, but within minutes, the ritual is rendered pointless."

He touched himself through his pants.

"Why do I even bother to resist?"

In full view, he loosened his buckle slightly and reached inside his undergarment. His hand moved around until it grabbed his dick, and then he pulled it upwards, towards his abdomen and strapped it under his belt, so there was no longer a tent but a constrained bulge. Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to see this image. She already had it bad, she didn't need further ammunition.

"I have a meeting now." He announced to no-one. "Great."

She listened to his footfalls till they reached the door, where they paused, and then left the room. It was then, she allowed herself to quiver. What was happening? This was going so wrong. Draco was not someone she even respected, and yet he was making her react in unexplainable ways. What was it? What was it, that was turning her on? Drunken groping? Malfoy spanking her like it was a chore?

She clutched the cloak around her, and scrambled to her feet.

"Hem hem…"

Hermione twirled.

Ester was standing by the door, holding a platter of items that looked incredibly useful. When she caught Hermione's attention, she put the silver plate down and started individually pointing to them.

"Salve, Potato sack, A few slices of bread - nothing fancy, and a jug of pumpkin juice."

"I don't even know where to begin," Hermione clasped her hands. "This is wonderful, I never expected you to come round to openly liking me, and disobeying your master! It's OK, Ester. I'll give you something to set you free. Or trick the Malfoy's into setting you free-"

"This isn't my doing," Ester interrupted. "You are a beguiling human, I must admit, but to risk giving these is more than my life's worth. No. This is Master's orders."

Hermione was too hungry, and ill-dressed, to contemplate what that possibly meant.

It was an important meeting, Draco could tell that much. All the deatheaters had gathered in the Dining Room, and he would have missed them entirely, if he hadn't felt his mark burn. He stepped in, and took the seat closest to the door, grateful he had his hood to shield under. Bellatrix was arguing with Rodolphus, who would never come to understand what a nut-job his wife was.

The burn on his arm was foolishly persistent.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape slink in, and inconspicuously take his seat at the table. Snape was a master of deflecting attention. He had the fiercest loyalty to Voldemort, being the one to kill Dumbledore, where Draco could not.

"Silence!" Bellatrix called from the end of her table. "I have important news!"

"We all know what it is," Yaxley said in a bored voice. "The Dark Lord is returning to the Manor."

"Watch your tongue, Booth," Bellatrix hissed. "Before I sever it off, and let dear Nagini feast on it."

The rest of the deatheaters stopped whispering, and started at Yaxley, who had gone white as a sheet. Draco straightened in his seat. If Lord Voldemort was returning, that meant it was because a significant development had occurred back here. He had no doubt, Bellatrix was regularly filling him in, spying on the others and reporting her own good work back to the Dark Lord.

For sure, this had something to do with Hermione. It was very likely Voldemort was preparing to question her himself, to reveal Potter's hideout.

"I shall be the only follower to greet him," Bellatrix ordered, a topic that wasn't too hotly debated by the others.

Draco stood up. "May I be excused?" He didn't even wait for an answer, before he was briskly walking out, and back out into the Main foyer. Nobody came out, and called for him to come back. Why would they? He was the youngest deatheater to be recruited, his presence meant very little to those besides his family, and Lord Voldemort.

He took the stairs, three at a time and burst into his room.

Hermione was sitting by the window, staring forlornly into the distance.

"He's coming." Draco revealed abruptly.

"I know."

"How?"

"Observation," Hermione inclined her head. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out something of magnitude is occurring. I just saw ten or so deatheaters apparate outside the wards and make their way in."

"Ah."

"Whatever happens," Hermione hesitated. "I stand by my verdict from earlier. You're not all evil, Malfoy. We might even be allies in a different set of circumstances."

"Don't push it," Draco warned.

"Your aunt is a different matter, on the otherhand."

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Yes, Master