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Captive at Number 12	By : CeliaEquus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 32437 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have no claim on the Harry Potter franchise, and am making no money from any of my fan fiction.

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The Repulsion Jinx missed.

How? How could it miss? Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age, never missed. If she had, she would be dead by now. Although, now that she thought about it, her death seemed pretty damned imminent.

As soon as she had felt the Death Eater latch onto her she had struck out, fearful that he might breach headquarters. However, her aim went askew, her wand fell from her hand and the next thing she knew she was staring at Harry and Ron from a Death Eater’s arms.

“Let go of me!” she shouted, trying to wriggle away. He just chuckled, his wand digging into her neck. When Ron stepped towards them, Yaxley muttered a charm. Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Now you’re stuck with me, Mudblood,” he hissed into her ear, his eyes never leaving the two boys. “Handy things, Sticking Charms, aren’t they?”

Sure enough, when Hermione tried to pull away from him she discovered that he had glued them together. When she placed a hand on his arm to wrench it away she cried out in pain. He grunted as she continually tugged at their fused skin.

“Undo it. Please,” she begged.

“Tell your boyfriends to drop their wands,” he said.

Over Harry and Ron’s loud protests Hermione spoke.

“Get out of here!” She continued to struggle against her captor. “Go on! You have to!”

“We’re not leaving you, `Mione,” Harry said, watching Yaxley. All three wands were still raised. “Let her go!”

“You can’t take her if she’s in pieces,” he replied, pressing the tip of his wand further into the skin of her neck. She winced at the sharp pain.

“No!” Ron shouted. He lowered his wand, followed by a reluctant Harry.

“What are you doing?” Hermione said, wide-eyed.

“What I want them to do,” Yaxley said. With a flick of his wrist his wand was now trained on Harry. Hermione could have rolled her eyes at yet another mistake made by her friend against her advice. As it was she only felt fear.

“Look at the situation, Potter,” he continued. “I am set to kill you. As soon as I do, if your blood traitor friend tries to hit me, the Mudblood will act as my shield. Though I wonder what’s so special about her?” He bent his head far enough to smell her hair, still watching Harry and Ron, and took a deep sniff. Ron looked furious and began to move.

As soon as he did warning sparks flew out of Yaxley’s wand, almost touching Harry.

“Go!” Hermione screamed. This time, her struggles were to throw Yaxley’s aim, and to throw her bag at the boys with her free hand. She looked desperately at her friends as she did so. Couldn’t they see what she was trying to do?

Apparently, for the first time, they did.

“Avada Kedavra!” Yaxley shouted. Hermione shrieked and turned her face into his shoulder, afraid to see one of her friends die. She heard Yaxley swear and, trembling, turned around.

Relief swept through her. The sounds of Apparation must have been masked by her uncharacteristic screaming. There was no sign of either Ron or Harry… only the place where Mrs. Black’s portrait used to hang. It was now lying on the ground and its subject was completely still. Yaxley cursed again, but Hermione could only beam. It was too late for Sirius to see his tyrannical mother silenced, but at least it was done now.

For some reason she twisted around and threw her arms around his shoulders. No doubt it was the relief. Briefly her mind worked out that the charm had worn off, freeing her from his grasp. As soon as this registered she pulled back, horrified. Yaxley noticed this.

Before she could prepare to Disapparated he had pressed her up against the now-empty wall and fastened her hands above her head.

Her face was flushed and her chest heaving with panicked breaths. Looking at her he didn’t think of her as a Muggleborn, or even as Harry Potter’s friend. She was just an attractive girl flush against his body, in the perfect position for a quickie against the wall.

Immediately he berated himself for thinking about taking a Mudblood, of all things. The Dark Lord would flip if he knew, and just thinking of how degrading it would be!

Not… not that anyone needed to know. Yaxley was an Occlumens. His Lord never needed to know. And a man had needs…

Hermione watched with trepidation as her captor’s expression changed from anger to something she had only ever read about in her mother’s secret stash of steamy romance novels. She swallowed visibly as his gaze travelled down to her chest and then back up again.

“Please don’t hand me over,” she whispered. A tremble had made its way into her voice. “Just kill me or let me go. Don’t send me to… to him.”

“My dear Miss Granger,” he purred, “I have no intention of releasing you.” He smirked. “But if you really wish to avoid the attentions of my master, I’m sure that we can come to a very nice arrangement.”

She was not naïve as all that, yet she was determined to know his offer.

“W-what kind of arrangement?”

“What do you think?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “In exchange for your life, you please me whenever and however I wish it of you. You’ll be confined to this place,” his lips twitched, “but anything is surely better than that which you fear the most.” She still didn’t reply. “If you were not so appealing to my physically I would never dream of contaminating myself with the flesh of a Mudblood. However,” he pressed his pelvis hard against her, “I wouldn’t mind seeing how good filth can be.”

You could still get out of here, she told herself. He can’t watch you forever. And someone could still get in here. Just say…

“Yes,” she said, louder than she intended. He laughed.

“Eager wench, aren’t you?” he said. She blushed furiously as his hands ran up and down her sides. “Very well. But for now…”

All hope drained away as, trapped and wandless against the wall, Hermione was subjected to a series of complex charms. She recognised each of them, even though she had only read about such things. All were designed in the days when witches had to be confined to home. Why should she be surprised to learn that a Pureblood knew them, even though they had never been part of the school curriculum?

The first bound her to Grimmauld Place. With a wand she could easily break it, and if she practised wandlessly for awhile she could have broken it herself. However, the next spell bound her to Yaxley. If she tried to go anywhere he could Apparate to her side. Any thoughts of ending her life were banished with a charm to prevent her from harming herself.

The clincher was with the last charm: it bound her magic so that she couldn’t do even the simplest of incantations, no matter how hard she could try.

When the last layer settled over her she just stared up at the Death Eater in shock.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Why not?” he replied, moving his face closer to hers. He sneered as she swallowed, nervous eyes watching him. “Let’s give you a practise run.”

He grabbed the backs of her legs and lifted her up against the wall. She cried out and clasped his shoulders.

“Wait!”

“You don’t give orders around here, Mudblood,” he said, grinding into her and prompting an involuntary shiver. She shook her head.

“I just… this is my… I’m a virgin.” Yaxley’s eyes lit up. “I just wanted my first time to… be in a bed.”

He considered the girl. Why should he give a damn about her comfort? But, if she enjoyed herself, it would be amusing to see how ashamed she was afterwards. Yes. Why not make her happy… and miserable?

“Of course,” he said seriously. “I can do that for you.”

She sighed. “Thank you.”

He smirked inwardly as he carried her up the stairs. The Mudblood had thanked him. She didn’t seem to have noticed, though. Maybe he would remind her later.

Hermione trembled as he lowered her onto the bed covers. He had chosen the master bedroom – the only one with a double bed – and the oppressive atmosphere of blood purity was choking her. She squeezed her eyes shut to escape the darkness. It was time to prepare herself for a horrible experience.

It surprised her to feel the feather-light touches of his hands as he slipped the borrowed clothes off her body. Tension flooded out, causing her body to relax totally with each piece of fabric gliding over her skin. She shivered as he pulled away, leaving just her underwear. Maybe he wanted her to participate?

Shakily, she unclasped her bra and dropped it over the side of the bed, soon followed by her knickers. Yaxley paused in his undressing to watch as she laid herself bare before him, slowly meeting his eyes.

She’s a Mudblood, he reminded himself. Just a Mudblood. An animal.

He’d never been so turned on before. But then, he’d never been presented by one so innocent in every way. And this one was all for him. She was all his.

“You’re all mine,” he said as he pulled off the last of his clothing.

“…I am,” she said resignedly. She tensed up as he climbed onto the bed and crawled into position over her body. She forced herself to keep eye contact with him. If she looked further then she might lose her nerve.

Then again, she had no choice in this.

“Calm down,” he said, pushing her knees apart and fitting himself between her legs. “We’re not there yet.”

“We’re not?”

“No.”

“Oh – oh!” He had just touched her clit. To have someone else touching it was insanely erotic. Experimentation had never appealed to her, so she quit after the first few times. It made her wonder at the time what Parvati was talking about.

Now, as Yaxley slipped a finger into her and kept his thumb pressed against the sensitive nub, she was beginning to see very clearly.

He bit down on her left nipple and she drew in a sharp breath.

“Not so hard,” she said. He looked up at her, halting his shallow finger strokes.

“Very well,” he said, knowing that he had time to introduce her to the idea of pleasurable pain. He wet his lips and sucked gently on the same nipple. Hermione gasped, but then relaxed with a smile. Yaxley smirked as arousal gradually leaked out around his hand. He continued to lick and suck her breasts, his fingers bringing her to the brink, before he backed off. She whimpered but didn’t move. Within seconds he was hovering over her, lined up and poised to thrust. She looked up at him.

“Just do it,” she said. She had seen the Dark Mark on his arm and it sobered her. “Get it over with.”

“It won’t be like that,” he said, tempting as the thought was. “Not this time.” He pressed just the head inside first and then paused. He didn’t like the way that she was just looking over his shoulder now, unsmiling and unmoving. He had to get her back in the mood for this to be entertaining.

Yaxley lowered one hand back to her clit and played with it gently. That got her attention right enough. Staring at him, her lips parted slightly with her shallow breath, Hermione bucked her hips, taking him further inside. Her head dropped back, eyes closing, tensing in anticipation as he pushed forward further.

“Ah!” she exclaimed as he broke her barrier with one smooth move. He seated himself fully inside before he paused to allow her time to adjust. To tell the truth, he needed the time, too. There was the potential for much pleasure between this Mudblood’s legs.

Hermione finally steadied her breathing. It hadn’t been as painful as she had anticipated, once she got over the first shock. She finally made eye contact with her captor and nodded.

The first few strokes stung her sensitive skin a bit and made her whimper, but as he thrust deeper she was soon moving with him. Nature prevailed as their bodies grew hotter and their actions grew faster.

“Gods, Mudblood,” he hissed, hands on either side of her body as their rocking sped up. “Who knew… you had it… in you?”

“I didn’t,” she said, whimpering as he dove in with each stroke. “No… no one did.”

“I did,” he said, lowering his face to hers. “I did, Mudblood. Remember that. You’re.” He thrust in harder. “Mine.” Even harder. “Understand?”

With his hardest thrust yet, Hermione shrieked, “Yes!” and wrapped her legs around his waist.

From then on, they could only make animalistic noises as the intensity of their coupling heightened with each sharp re-entry. She met each one with more and more enthusiasm. The feeling inside her felt so close to magic that she wanted to cry. If this was as close as she could ever get to that feeling again…

Yaxley growled. He was as close to the end as she was; he just knew it. That was probably due to one of his spells. He moved his head closer, intending to bite her neck.

Without thinking – only seeing the face getting nearer – Hermione tilted her head up and caught his lips in a quick but intense kiss. It was this small contact that caused her to clamp down on him. He was frozen as she arched up against his chest, head thrown back and eyes closed, keening in ecstasy.

His head dropped and he bit her neck in retaliation. Her hips bucked violently in reply, and he exploded into her with a grunt. He sucked hard all the way through his orgasm, not relinquishing his hold until the last spurt had ended.

Her eyes were still shut and her inner walls were still fluttering a bit. Yaxley started rocking into her again as he studied his mark. His teeth seemed to have broken the skin a bit, which made him smirk.

With a soft moan Hermione opened her eyes. She smiled blearily at him before pulling him down into a longer, less frantic kiss. He obliged her, surprised that such an action with a Mudblood could be pleasurable. In fact, the whole business had been remarkable. It seemed that these creatures could be useful.

“Well done, Granger,” he murmured as soon as he had his lips back. She blinked rapidly to focus, and he watched, amused, as her expression changed to one of dawning horror. “What a good little Mudblood. I’ll be,” he twirled his hips, “coming back often.”

She dropped her legs quickly, face burning with shame, and tried to wriggle out from beneath him. But he kept her pressed against the covers, still filling her most private of places and pinning her with his stare. She had to stop fidgeting, seeing how fruitless her efforts were.

“Please get off me,” she whispered. “It’s starting to hurt again.”

“Oh,” he said in mock sympathy. “Well, now, we can’t have that. It’s less enjoyable if you’re wincing all the time.”

He finally pulled out of her, chuckling at her sigh of relief. There were red stains on her inner thighs and the bed. He would have to clean those up later. In the meantime…

“Petrificus Totalus,” he said, binding her before she even noticed him reaching for his wand. Only her eyes moved as she watched him clean himself and then get dressed. “I’ll be back soon, Mudblood. We wouldn’t want your filth staining Purebloods’ sheets, would we?”

While he was out of the room, Hermione reflected on what was apparently her new life. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been to suppose that there would be a way out of this prison. Her over-confidence had caused her to underestimate her opponent, not for the first time. Now she had no magic and was a prisoner in what had been, until this morning, the safest place in Britain. Now she knew how its previous owner had felt.

I’m so sorry, Sirius, she thought. I didn’t realise.

But the more she thought about it, the worse she had it off. He could still become Padfoot, he was surrounded by company at all times, even if it was only Kreacher. The grumpy house elf was surely better than nothing at all.

Oh yes. And Hermione was now the sex slave of a Death Eater, little better than a whore. She had surrendered her body and her liberty, and for what? Her life? What good was that for anyone now? Only the man currently placing new wards around her jail. A Death Eater.

What was I thinking? her mind screamed.

Yaxley eventually returned, looking smug. He sat down beside Hermione and non-verbally cleaned her and the bed.

“I have to get back to work now,” he said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve thought of a good cover story for my absence. Oh? You wish to have the spell removed? Very well.”

“Just kill me now,” she blurted out as soon as she could speak. He started to laugh. “I’m not helping anyone here.”

“You’re helping to relieve my tension,” he said, rolling on top of her. His clothes brushed her naked skin, eliciting reactions that she didn’t want to have. Not to this man. “That’s good. It’s all you’re good for.”

“You’ve said yourself that I’m a Mudblood,” she said, feeling some small satisfaction when she saw his surprise. “Why do you want me?”

“Because it’s amusing to bring you to orgasm, knowing that you’re his best friend,” he said, nuzzling the skin of her neck. She unwittingly shivered. “And you’re a school girl. This all appeals to my darker nature.”

“Y-you only have one nature.”

He shook his head. “How wrong you are, my dear little Mudblood.” Without warning he crushed her mouth with his, almost immediately beginning an erotic dance with her tongue.

Hermione would have given anything to say that the kiss was horrible, that he was selfish and domineering, that it was messy and painful, that it didn’t evoke any kind of positive reaction in her.

By the gods, was it the opposite. It was the kind of kiss that she’d dreamed of receiving from Ron, even after seeing the way he and Lavender had snogged. Circe, this was far from ‘snogging’. With each caress of his tongue, each nip of his teeth, each shared breath, the temperature in the room rose another degree. He did dominate the kiss, but – damn it! – it just felt right. And what it was doing to her body was something else entirely.

“So easy to affect, aren’t you?” he asked when he pulled back. He knelt up so that he could finger her stiff nipples. Tears fell down her cheeks as she wondered why this was happening to her, why she had to have this kind of chemistry with him. He stroked her tears away and then tasted one of them. She turned her head, thus missing the moment he lowered his hand between her legs and began to play with her again. He was almost giddy with glee to find the renewed wetness.

“I don’t know whose picture you masturbated to before, Mudblood,” he said, continuing to finger her. He curled his two fingers around and stroked her sweet spot. “But I can guarantee that it will only ever be my name on your lips from now on.”

“Stop it!” she yelled, trying to scoot away again even as her muscles sucked his hand further in. “Stop it right now, you bas…”

“And I have told you, Miss Granger,” he said menacingly, “that you do not give the orders around here.” His hands were now either side of her body and his face inches away from hers. “This is a Pureblood house, and you are nothing but my Muggleborn prisoner and toy. Understand?” Hermione, terrified once again, only managed to nod. “Good.”

His gaze dropped to her lips; but instead of a parting kiss he moved off the bed and over to the bedroom door. He looked back over his shoulder at her.

“I will be back tonight to explain your new life,” he said. “Until then, you do not leave this room except to use the bathroom. I will know if you do.”

“W-what about a drink?” she asked softly.

“Improvise,” he replied, and then he was gone.

Hermione inwardly wished that Yaxley had finished bringing her off, because she felt horribly unfulfilled. She would have to finish the job herself.

Hands trembling, she tried to finger herself the way that he had, alternating between thrusting into her sore channel and flicking her swollen nub. But without the element of surprise it was very difficult. So she tried to focus on a picture of Ron.

It was no good. He kept morphing into the blond Death Eater who had taken her so masterfully that day.

Ron, Ron, Ron, her mind chanted.

Yaxley, Yaxley, Yaxley, her body replied. She moaned. No matter how hard she tried to resist, her control just snapped. Her hand now mindlessly following the pattern that he had established, she recalled the way his hands had fondled her breasts and the way his tongue had set burning trails along her neck. Within moments she climaxed almost as violently as before, screaming his name without realising it.

Suddenly tired, she fell asleep, blissfully unaware that Yaxley had sensed the whole thing, and was currently having to picture a naked Dolores Umbridge to calm down. Thankfully, it worked.

Perhaps now he could plan in peace.

A/N: Crikey! I didn’t realise that all the chapters would be this long. Most of this was written while my mother, sister and my sister’s boyfriend were swimming, and I was guarding the bags. (I’m not a big swimmer.)

Please review, my dears! There will be lots of lemons in this story, but then that’s the point of Hermione’s imprisonment. However! There shall be character stuff, plot progression and more. I’ve tried to write PWP, but… I just love stories so darn much! If this pairing isn’t for you, you might want to stay away.

Anyway, this disclaimer applies to the whole story:

I do not own the Harry Potter franchise (I don’t even have any shares in it!) and I’m making no money from this fic. So there.
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Captive at Number 12