Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Precious Mudblood	By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 79302 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from any part of the Harry Potter universe

Chapter List
- 1-Precious Mudblood
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch 3
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-Ch 7
- 8-ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 15-Ch 15
- 16-Ch 16
- 17-Ch 17
- 18-Ch 18
- 19-Ch 19
- 20-Ch 20
- 21-Ch 21
- 22-Ch 22
- 23-Ch 23
- 24-Ch 24
- 25-Ch 25
- 26-Ch 26
- 27-Ch 27
- 28-Ch 28
- 29-Ch 29
- 30-Ch 30
- 31-Ch 31
- 32-Ch 32
- 33-Ch 33
- 34-Ch 34
- 35-Ch 35
- 36-Ch 36
- 37-Ch 37
- 38-Ch 38
- 39-Ch 39
- 40-Ch 40
- 41-Ch 41
- 42-Ch 42 (edited. longer)
- 43-Ch 43
- 44-Ch 44
- 45-Ch 45
- 46-Ch 46
- 47-Ch 47
- 48-Ch 48
- 49-Ch 49
- 50-Ch 50
- 51-Ch 51
- 52-Ch 52
- 53-Ch 53
- 54-Ch 54
- 55-Ch 55
- 56-Ch 56
- 57-Ch 57
- 58-Ch 58
- 59-Ch 59
- 60-Ch 60
- 61-Ch 61
- 62-Ch 62
- 63-Ch 63
- 64-Ch 64
- 65-Ch 65
- 66-Ch 67
- 67-Ch 67
- 68-Ch 68
- 69-Ch 69
- 70-Ch 70
- 71-Ch 71
- 72-Ch 72
- 73-Ch 73
- 74-Ch 74
- 75-Ch 75
- 76-Chapter 76
- 77-Ch 77
- 78-Ch 78
- 79-Ch 79
- 80-Ch 80
- 77
- 78
- 79
Hermione awoke with a jolt, to the sound of clattering.�� It sounded familiar somehow.� She was sitting up in bed, looking about,
before her mind had even fully comprehended where she was and when.
Dr Green was in her room.�
She hadn�t heard the door open.�
No it had been the sound of the wheels on the archaic looking machine he
was pushing, clattering over the tiles.
She snatched the bedcovers up to cover her nakedness.� The man didn�t even appear to notice.
�Ah.� You are awake.� Good.�
Remain where you are while I prepare the room.�
This wasn�t really encouraging news.� But the doctor had already left the
room.� She considered whether this might
be her chance to run and slipped one leg from the blankets, but the sounds from
outside the room made it clear that he had not gone far.�� Indeed, a moment latter he was returning,
pushing a trolley covered in a blue sheet.�
The oddly chittery clattering sound reminded her strongly of her
father�s dentistry practice � the sound of wheeling a tray with small metal
objects placed on it.��
The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as the
implications of that realisation hit her.�
The Doctor had left the room again and this time he did not
immediately return.��
She realised that this could be her only chance to
escape.� Perhaps there were a lot of
barriers in place to prevent that from happening, but she could at least try.� Just
sitting back and letting�whatever was on that covered trolley�happen to her,
was no answer at all.� These people... Grindelwald�his
brother...- they were not going to simply let her go at some point when they
had finished whatever they wanted to do here.�
The plan was that she would never�ever�
be released.� And at some point Tom would
be killed.� Although�at the moment it
seemed that anything she might do could get Tom killed� Perhaps it was better
to wait.

But there might not be another opportunity.�
Who knew what Dr Green was going to do to her now?!� What if he found out the truth about what she
was?!!

Hermione decided quickly and slipped out from beneath the blankets, uncaring of
her nakedness, tiptoeing to the wall beside the door.� There was a short wide corridor beyond
it.� It was perhaps ten metres in length
and painted in nicotine yellow.� There
were three doors that she could see.� Two
were very solid looking grey painted metal and were set in the left hand wall
while the third was on the right hand wall at the end of the corridor.� This last door was open.�� From within, she heard Dr Green bark something
in German.� Moments later, there was a
more submissive German acknowledging bark in return and then the sound of boots
on tile.� Obviously there were other
people out there.

She dropped her head in frustration.� Why
couldn�t she just catch a break?!
The other two doors then.
Creeping carefully forward, her eyes and ears trained on the
open door at the end of the corridor, she made her way to the first door.�

It was of course locked.� It didn�t
rattle or budge the merest millimetre.�
The handle might as well have been set in stone.� It was probably magically secured, although
there was a very muggle looking lock visible.
The second door was further up the corridor.� She hesitated.� If she stood by that door, she would probably
be visible to anyone standing in the room that Dr Green was in.� She wrapped her arms around her body,
suddenly reminded of her current unclothed state again.� She could hardly do anything about it though.� She could wrap a blanket around herself and
then trip over it when running.� Dr Green
had probably taken her clothes at least partly for that reason.�
The second door seemed to glint at her nastily.� She just knew
it would be locked anyway.�
The voices within the last room spoke again and she was
struck with a sudden pang.� It was
something in the tone of the
exchange.� Familiar again.� Reminded her
of something.� Television perhaps.� She shrugged it off and, temporarily
defeated, crept quietly back to her room, looking around at the �preparations�
that the Doctor had already brought in.�
Her eyes flicked over the very old fashioned machine that
was sitting, sinister and silvery grey in the centre of the room.�� It had an electrical cable dangling at the
side with a plug.� It was unmistakeably
muggle in origin.�� There was a raised
brand on the side but she didn�t recognise it.��
There were several dials on the top console area of the machine and a
number of holes along the front panel with labels in an old fashioned German
script. They were clearly intended to plug or insert something.� It could have been an object of measurement
or an object of torture.� There was no
way to know.
The trolley then.�
Darting a glance out the door, to the short corridor beyond and the open
door on the right side at the end, and satisfied that no one was yet emerging,
she slipped over to the trolley and pinched the blue sheet, raising it enough
to peer below.�
Silver and glass.�
Syringes, Small bottles with liquid.�
Peculiarly shaped medical instruments. She gulped, her hand shaking as
it held the blue sheet up.�

A scalpel! (She snatched that and tried to hide it against her hand and wrist
as best she could.)�� Along the end of
the trolley there were a number of cables coiled.� They were obviously for the machine.� Some of them ended in what looked like sucker
cups, some in alligator clips and some in short needles.� Something bright Green caught her eye
suddenly.� Stepping back, she realised
that the trolley had two layers.
In the bottom later were medium sized pots with very healthy
looking plants in them.

Roses.� White roses, in fact.
Hermione dropped the sheet and backed away.�
She was just moving back in the direction of the corridor,
now prepared to risk trying the second door, when the sound of approaching
clattering stilled her.� The edge of
something large and boxy was pushed into the corridor from the open door at the
end.
Whirling, Hermione fairly threw herself in the direction of
the bed, wincing as the springs squeaked slightly with the force of her
landing.� She covered herself with the
blankets quickly and did her best to try to wipe the horrified expression from
her face.
Dr Green clattered into the room wheeling a low slung
trolley on which was affixed a large chair.�
A monstrosity of a chair.� It
would have been at home in an execution chamber.� It was wooden, straight backed and had
leather manacles fitted to it at far too
many points.
She knew that her horrified expression had surfaced again by
the small satisfied smile she received from Dr Green.�� His eyes flicked around the room as if
looking everything over, before sliding back to the sheet covered trolley,
where they narrowed slightly.
With a frisson of fear she realised that the sheet was now
hanging crookedly.
The Doctor tsked quietly and moved to straighten the
sheet.� He mused aloud, his back to Hermione.� �I suppose it is only natural to be
curious.�� Turning then, he fixed her
with an appraising expression.� �And what
did you find?�
Hermione shook her head slightly, fear was tingling through
her veins now and flavouring her mouth with the taste of metal filings.� She gripped the scalpel more tightly beneath
the blankets.
Dr Green�s mouth twisted into a small smirk.� �Well� we shall soon see, hm?�� He started back toward the door but
hesitated as he reached it.
Turning he withdrew his wand quickly and flicked off a
spell.�

A red spell.��
Hermione flung herself to the side, trying to get out of the
bed, but this only meant that the doctor�s second spell, pink in hue, hit her
squarely in the chest.�

She collapsed, momentum carrying her in the direction she had been moving.� A moment later she bit her tongue as her head
and shoulder struck the floor sharply while her lower body still lay splayed
over the bed.�
Blinking away tears and swallowing at the blood that now
filled her mouth, she found that her entire body was unresponsive.� Rather than the rigidity of the petrificus or
the blissful unconsciousness of the stunner, this spell somehow left her
conscious and pliable and entirely unable to move her body below the neck.� She could
however feel the painful pulling of her muscles as she was stretched in this
unnatural and undignified position.� She
could feel the dull throb in her shoulder and the more troubling dizzy pang in
her head.�� She could twist her eyes up
to see the repulsive fascination on the face of the doctor.��

She couldn�t feel the smooth metal of
the scalpel lying in the palm of her hand anymore�
�I think it would be best if you remain where you are while
I finish preparing the room, don�t you agree?�
After all� I would not want you to develop unhealthy notions.� It would force me to correct you more
severely and that may set back the research by several days unnecessarily.� I am sure you want this unpleasant business
to be over as soon as possible, as does Gellert - so it may be necessary to
restrict you somewhat more than I had initially planned.�
Hermione noticed, with dull despairing acceptance, that Dr Green
had not included himself among those who wanted this unpleasant business
swiftly completed.
Then she was alone in the room again for a while.��
She had ample opportunity to scrutinize her field of vision
for the scalpel. By best will she could not see it.� She did not remember hearing it skitter over
the tiles when she fell.� It must still
be in the bed.� She couldn�t feel
it.� At least she hadn�t cut herself with
it when the spell hit her.� Rationally,
she realised she should be glad she hadn�t accidentally disembowelled
herself.�� Perhaps, if she was
extraordinarily lucky she might recover from this spell in time to find it
before the doctor did.� Or perhaps he
wouldn�t find it at all.� Perhaps it
would still be in the bed later on when they were done with whatever he was
about to do to her.�
With the way that her luck was going, she doubted it.� .�
Idly, she turned her attention to the cracks in the tiles,
the small metallic wheels of the trolley, the underside of her bed.� There was no dust or dirt on anything.� Not even under the bed.�
Eventually, after he had come and gone three more times, Dr Green
closed the door to the room and moved to start arranging the equipment he had
amassed.�� He spoke conversationally to
her as he worked, although she was still hanging half off the bed with blood
drooling out of the corner of her mouth.
�Of course, all this-�he
gestured at the equipment around himself �-will not be necessary once we begin
with the first experimental series.� Most
of the measurements I will be performing with magic, and for that I need not
lug muggle apparatus around.� Today however�
today we will be establishing your history and conducting base measurements.�
Hermione closed her eyes.�
Of course they would.�
Naturally.� She went over in her
mind what she had told Grindelwald about her �condition�.� The fact that his half-brother had brought
white roses... almost certainly truth roses,
certainly suggested that she was about to have a problem on her hands in the
very near future.
�It is a chore to have to transport things by hand� Dr Green
went on, idly.� She could hear him
connecting cables and doing something with the machine.� A faint hum started up.� �But I have found that active magic, such as
the levitation or summoning charms, interferes with the normal operation of
many muggle devices.� Even using it upon
something as simple as a wire, can disrupt measurements significantly.�� I could have one of my assistants prepare
the room for me, of course but I do not wish them to know so much about
you.� You are a rather special project.�� Hermione was treated to another sinister
little smile.� �Besides, several of my
wizarding assistants are lazy and may slip and contaminate my equipment with a
spell if I am not there to supervise them.�
My muggle assistants, by contrast are clumsy and ignorant of anything
magical.� They are also liable to be
untrustworthy in other ways.� Many important people would be very
interested in the things I am studying.�
And of course there is the small matter that all of my assistants are male.�
It would be wise not to put undue temptation before them.� Of any
sort.�� I have spent several years
training some of them. It would be a shame to have to put them down when they
are just coming into their usefulness.�
Hermione looked up at the man.� There was something in the way he had said
it.�� She couldn�t put her finger on it
but she had a sneaking suspicion that he knew more about her �condition� than Grindelwald
appeared to know right now.
The doctor said nothing more for a while and she watched him
as he arranged the equipment around the wooden chair.��
�Ah.� That should do
it� he muttered to himself eventually, turning back toward Hermione.�� Time to take a seat. I am sure you will be
glad to be in a more comfortable position by now, hmm?�
�Not especially glad,
no� she responded with an unexpected jolt of Gryffindor fecklessness.
The doctor chuckled.�
�No, perhaps not.� But it does not
matter really how you feel.� It was just
a question for politeness.� Gellert
wishes me to be nice to you.�
Hermione gritted her teeth.�
�You�re not very good at it.�
This drew a slightly more robust laugh from the man.�

�No.� I am not.� But I also do not enjoy niceness.� You should see me when I am unpleasant.� I am very
good at unpleasantness.�� He withdrew
his wand and levelled it at her.�
She would have flinched, if she had sufficient control of
her body to do so.�� As it was, he did
not curse her, although her body felt quite sore as it was levitated out of its
uncomfortable position to hang in the air.�
There was a faint dull clink from somewhere below her.
Hermione closed her eyes with a sigh and mused again on how
much fate must despise her.� That would,
of course, be the sound of the blasted scalpel dislodging itself from wherever
it had been in the blankets before she was moved and slipping off the bed onto
the tiles. �

Unfair.� It was always so unfair!!� Fate was continually
kicking her in the kneecaps.�
When she opened her eyes, she did flinch back.� Or at least
her head did.� Dr Green was standing a
metre away from her, frowning in mild consternation.
�How inconvenient� he observed.� At first she thought he was making a wry
little observation about the inconvenience to her that her �cunning� plot had just failed.� But he added then - �I will have to delay
your well-deserved punishment, in
order to complete these tests.�
�Naturally� she thought, cursing fate yet again.� It was on the tip of her tongue to make some
plea for understanding of her rational reaction to imprisonment.� But she was glad she had supressed the
ridiculous urge when he next spoke.
�Never mind.� I shall
spend the time considering how severe a response your behaviour warrants.�� He stepped back and flicked with his wand,
pulling her through the air slowly, back in the direction of the chair.�� She noticed that he took pains to keep them
both away from the muggle equipment in their path.�
When they reached the chair, she had expected to be dropped,
or possibly even thrown.� Against
expectations, she was placed carefully and her limbs gently manipulated with
the spell into the appropriate positions.�
�

It was hard and cold against her skin and she felt horribly exposed as the
spell parted her legs wide in order to allow her ankles to rest in the manacle
cuffs.

When the man fumbled with threading and buckling spells for the leather
harnesses and manacles, spells which were well known to be a pain in the neck
at the best of times, rather than simply doing it by hand, she realised with
certainty that he was taking pains not to come into physical contact with her.
When he was done, she was firmly attached to the chair at
wrists, ankles, waist and throat.�� The
last was quite loosely strapped, thankfully.�
While it would prevent her from moving more than a few inches forward,
it would not choke her or prevent her from speaking.�

That was probably the point.
�What are you going to do to me?� she asked quietly.
The brown eyes that had been narrowed on her restraints as
if deciding whether or not they were tight enough, swivelled to fix on her own
again and he answered without hesitation.�
�I am going to ask you some questions.�
You are going to answer me truthfully.�
You are going to answer, even
if the answer is uncomfortable to speak about.�
Because if you choose not to
answer truthfully, I will need to take further measures to ensure you provide a
truthful answer.� Do you understand?�
At her hesitant nod, the man smiled briefly, like a fleeting
sun ray through dark clouds, quickly swallowed again by darkness, and flicked
his wand at her summarily, ending the immobilising spell.
Watching him as he moved to the trolley, removed the sheet
and started to arrange some of the rather unpleasant looking instruments in the
tray, Hermione was more than a little concerned.�

No... Actually, she had been concerned yesterday morning, when she woke and
found Grindelwald staring at her.� She
had been quite significantly concerned when she had first seen the place where
the bastard was keeping Tom and then seen the fear in Tom�s eyes that he tried
hard to hide.�� She had been extremely concerned when Grindelwald had
just left her with this creepy Dr Green.�
This though�there really needed to be a new scale of measure for this level of concern.� She thought she might actually wet herself if
he picked up that little hooked claw syringe instrument that looked like
something someone might use to remove pickled onions from a jar

(or eyeballs from a skull).
And there was no way that she could tell this man the truth
about anything!!� She just couldn�t!!� If she did it would only make her situation
exponentially worse.�

However much of a puzzle she might be for him as an unusually capable witch who
happened to have a strange addictive effect upon males, it would only be worse
if she were instead a conduit of raw magic, parasitically dependent upon sex in
order to function, who arrived here from the future, where the British
Wizarding World was ruled by the half-blooded boy currently locked up in Grindelwald�s
dungeon.
God, it even sounded ridiculously fantastical to her.� It
was entirely possible that he wouldn�t believe her, even if she did speak the
truth!�
Her mind spun.� She
could see Dr Green had turned and was watching her thoughtfully.� She really tried to stay calm, but calm just wasn�t happening.� It wasn�t that she was afraid she would
immediately spill all her secrets.�
No.� That wasn�t it.� It didn�t appear that Grindelwald or Dr Green
had access to veritaserum, if they were using these truth roses - and the truth
roses only detected untruth; they couldn�t somehow force truth.�
No... It was the thought of what else this man might do when he had grasped that she was going to
keep lying to him.� Dr Green was already
planning to punish her for taking the scalpel.�
She was about to give him every excuse to really get inventive with his persuasive methods.�

She really didn�t need to learn what that horrific looking corkscrew-like tool
was for, or the curved thing like a probe with small spikes along its
length.�� Actually, perhaps it was better
if she just kept her eyes off the trolley.�
It was not serving to calm her down at all.�
�Please don�t do this!� she tried, although she already knew
it was pointless.� �I... I don�t need to
be cured.� You don�t need to understand
this.� Just� just lock me in a room and
don�t let anyone find me.� It�s � �
The other man�s smile was like something that stepped out of
closets in children�s� rooms at three in the morning.
�How�.interesting.��
One might almost think you know
what the cause of your condition is.�� He
reached for a pair of thick black rubber gloves and started to put them
on.� They reached over his shirt all the
way to his elbows.�

�I am quite sure you will tell me all about it�eventually.� For the moment�I need to fit you to the
machines.� Try to remain relatively calm.�
Hermione ignored the implied instruction to be silent and
babbled helplessly on, somehow not able to stop herself from trying to beg,
barter or threaten a way out of the situation.�
Dr Green nodded absently to some of the things she said, while he very carefully stuck round pads to various
parts of her body.� These were then
connected to different wires that came out of the archaic machine and at some
point she registered that the gauges had started to flick about.��

The next machine, she actually thought she recognised.�� It looked a lot like a polygraph. Which was,
she supposed, the muggle equivalent of the truth roses.��
A primitive glove was fitted over her hand and a thick band
strapped around her upper arm.� Dr Green
looked uncomfortable as he had to lean quite close to fit two thick stretchy
cables around her chest, one above and one below her breasts.�
For a brief horrible second, Hermione actually considered
trying to strain forward and touch his skin with some part of her body.� Her sense of reason cut in again in time,
thankfully.�� She certainly didn�t want this man to�.imprint on her� or whatever
it was that happened with the others.�
She was strapped into a chair, for merlin�s sake.� Exactly how well could that possibly end?!�� Desiring her had never stopped anyone from
hurting her before.
It seemed that the doctor had realised the direction of her
errant thoughts too, as he certainly retreated quite quickly as soon as he had
the cables fitted around her.� He didn�t
go far however, and when he returned, he held a pot of white roses and a pair
of scissors.�� He appeared to admire the
roses for a moment before selecting a fully blown flower and carefully snipping
it off some way down the stem, leaving a brutally thorny section of about two
hand�s width.�
�You recognise this plant.��

It wasn�t a question.
�Open your left hand, please.� This will hurt a small amount, but if you are
truthful with me and do not blacken the flower, I will heal your hand as soon
as our conversation is finished.�
Hermione pressed her lips together stubbornly and fisted her
hand.�
Dr Green sighed, but when she darted a look up at him, he
was smiling almost fondly.�

�I can see that I will enjoy working with you.�
You seem to prefer the hard way.�
You make it very easy for me to disregard Gellert�s foppish
wishes.�� He walked away and retrieved
what resembled a muggle first aid kit, taking a thick wad of bandage from it
and some tape, before returning and kneeling before her.� Carefully he gripped her left knee, raising
it up as far as the ankle restraint would allow.�
Hermione could see where this was going and realised that it
would be far worse than the alternative
�Stop!� I�ll hold it�
she said quickly, trying to pull her leg down.
He glanced up dismissively.�
�No.� You have lost that
option.� You will come to see that I do
not tolerate disobedience.� If you make
this any more difficult, there are
more painful places I could apply the rose, even if several of them might be
difficult to access with you strapped in this position.�
Hermione let her leg go limp, mortified as her mind supplied
examples of where else she would not like a thorny rose stem applied.
She watched as Dr Green positioned the rose stem in the
inner crook of her knee with the bloom in her view between her separated
legs.� He delicately placed the thick wad
of bandages over it gently without pressing; it felt cool and a little
scratchy.� In the next moment he had pressed.� Hard! �Hermione yelped full throat as the sensitive
skin of the back of her knee was ripped open.�
It was an area that was not often exposed to pain and she was unprepared
for the sharp intensity of the sensation.�
Whatever was in the rose thorns burned and stung.�� She closed her eyes, letting her head fall
back as tears were forced from the corner of her eyes.� Peripherally, she could feel Dr Green taping
the bandage and rose into place and dropping her leg.
�A minute or so later,
when she had finished dealing with the painful stinging and burning and her
embarrassing tears, she opened her watery eyes to see that Dr Green was sitting
on a tall metal stool by one of the machines, facing her, with his legs crossed
casually and a clipboard on his lap.�
Seeing that he had her attention once again, he detached a muggle
fountain pen from the metal loops at the top, before looking up at her and
smiling in a manner that could have
been considered friendly and reassuring, if she had just met the man.�
�Well then.� Let us
begin with something that is not so difficult.��
State your name.�
Hermione grimaced.�
There really were no easy questions.

***�� ***�� ***��
***�� ***�� ***��
***
You know - I got more reviews when I wasn�t updating.�� I�m not
even sure how many people are reading this.��
This is not a ransom demand but please take a second to drop
me a line and let me know you want me to continue writing this story (or any of
the other stories).�

It doesn�t have to be long -�
Just a couple of words to let me know you exist and are reading. ��
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Precious Mudblood