Moon Guard | By : dweek Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 16217 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
A/N- First I would like to thank Eclectic Pet for being an awesome beta. My work wouldn't be nearly as good as it is without her! This story was written for a Halloween Challange and I feel has a differint tone than some of my other work. I shoudl warn you right off this is a DARK story.. and not exactly in a sexy way. Enjoy.
She woke after that first night with her whole body in pain. It felt like every bone in her had been broken then mended again and again. Her mind was a haze of fur and stonewalls. She remembered metal bars that hurt and then something soft and sweet between her jaws.
She licked her lips at the memory and only tasted the metal twang of dried blood. She sat up quickly, too quickly for her body’s liking, and looked down at her naked form. Dried blood ran down from her chin and over her chest.
She wiped it away from her lips, feeling like she was going to vomit when she realized none of it was hers. That was when the smell of rotting flesh penetrated her thoughts and she quickly looked around her cell.
The body was a mess and triggered more memories from the night before. She whimpered moving back from her victim and started to shake, she couldn’t take her eyes off the broken form. Her mind rang with Neville’s screams of pain and fear. Last night she had enjoyed those screams, now she did throw up.
She didn’t see anyone for days. She starved and wasted away surrounded by her own sick and so much rotted blood and flesh.
When someone else finally came to check on her, she didn’t have the strength to look up from the shiny clean shoes. The man crouched down over her and lifted her head by a mass of knotted hair.
She looked up into superior silver eyes and for once believed she was indeed as dirty as he thought.
“What are you?” Draco asked as if her answer would determine her future.
“I’m a witch.” Hermione said wishing she had enough saliva to spit in his face.
“I told them it wouldn’t be so easy.” He said dropping her back to the ground. “Take her leftovers and clean the cell. We wouldn’t want the Lord’s new prized bitch getting sick.” He said as she watched his shiny shoes walk away.
Hermione listened as they scrapped the blood and gore from the stone floor. She tried to will herself to move, but she was just too weak.
She whimpered as hard jets of ice cold water drenched her and the cell she was in. She knew she would bruised and battered, but she also knew no one would care. When the flash of heat hit her, she screamed with a strength she didn’t know she had left when she felt as if her whole body was on fire.
She blacked out with agony. Once conscious again, Hermione knew something had changed. Without food or water, her mind worked much slower than she would have liked to recognize what was different.
She was laying on something soft. After spending so much time on the hard stone floor, it felt like maybe she had slipped off to heaven. She could also smell food. Close to her head were two bowls; one with a beef broth and one with cool water.
She shifted slightly and drank the broth and water slowly to get her stomach used to the sustenance again. She knew from books she had read in the past that if she gorged herself like her instinct she would only end up losing what she ate.
She took things slow and paced herself. When she had regained enough energy, she sat up and found that she had been lying in an oversized dog bed. This information led to the realization that her water and broth were in dog dishes.
She laughed and shook her head. They wanted her to be their dog. They wanted her to think of herself as their dog. She would not give herself to them.
Looking around once more she found there was also a toilet and sink in the corner of her room. She remembered Draco’s comment about not wishing for her to get sick and thanked merlin that the inbred purebloods knew that a proper bathroom was key to that goal.
She laid back down on her bed and shook her head. She would use the comforts they gave her, but only to keep her mind sharp so that she could free herself when the time came.
As each day passed she saw no one, but her bowls were filled with what she needed to live. Every day the food offered got hardier and hardier as he stomach could take more.
As her health returned she started to plan and exam her cell more closely. It was three stonewalls, ground and ceiling. One of the walls was made from silver bars. She could see where the bars lifted to let people in and out, but she had no way of getting to the mechanism.
The continued solitude made her wonder if she would ever get the chance for escape.
She felt the call of the moon before she realized she was sleeping on hard stone. When she looked around her she found that she was once again the only thing in her cell. It had been like this the day she’d been scratched. They left her in the cell hungry and alone. Only then, she had still had her clothes to keep her warm.
She stood and did her morning exercises that she’d started to keep her muscles in working order. It wouldn’t due for her escape if she could no longer run.
As night came she started to feel anxious. The nervous energy of the upcoming change was filling her blood with fire. It wasn’t until she felt the twist in her gut that meant the beast was close that she heard the bars move and someone being pushed into her cell before they slammed against the floor.
She didn’t want to look to see who had been sent as the beast’s next meal. This torture, this knowing that she would kill again was the worst they could do to her, and they knew it.
“Hermione!” A familiar voice cried out in shock and relief.
“No.” She whimpered before her vision started to turn red and she dropped to her knees from the pain.
She looked up at silver hair and kind blue eyes, and she shook her head to deny what was coming.
“What’s wrong?” Luna asked moving to her side.
“No.” Hermione’s gasp ended in a growl. Her bones twisted and grief disappeared into agony and anger.
“I’m so sorry.” She heard the witch say as she turned on her. “Hermione, it’s okay.” She said right before the beast sprang.
When the girl woke the next morning she cried for her lost friend. She had killed two good souls now. The beast had enjoyed their blood. Hermione worked very hard not to vomit at the thought this time. She didn’t know when they would feed her next; she couldn’t afford to be sick if she was going to fight them.
She felt it was less time before she woke one night to see the shiny black shoes standing inches from her face. Once again Draco crouched down and lifted her head by a chunk of hair.
“What are you?” He asked as a smirk played across his lips.
This time she did spit right into that smug face. “I’m a witch.” She growled trying to get a grasp around one of his clean pant legs.
He started to kick at her to free himself and got a good blow to the side of her head before she blacked out.
When she woke her cell was back to normal. It was cleaned of Luna’s blood and her comforts were returned.
Months passed like this. Same thing every cycle. She would live in relative comfort for the main part of the month. She would spend that time coming up with plan after plan to free herself. When the full moon came she was fed another friend. She only knew the months by the names of the people she killed.
She wouldn’t let herself forget them and started to spend much of her time repeating the list over and over again.
“Neville, Luna, Flitwick, Dean, Tonks. Neville, Luna, Flitwick, Dean, Tonks.”
“You’ve lasted longer than your friend.” A high voice said from the darkness on the other side of the silver bars.
Hermione looked up at him, unashamed of the tears she shed for her friends and shook her head. At one point she couldn’t say this man’s name, but now she was a monster too. Could monsters really fear each other?
“Tonight will be the last of this rebellion of yours. Tomorrow when you are have feasted on the blood of my enemies you will join your mate at my feet.” He said in a tone like she was just being an insolent child.
“My mate?” She asked thinking he was completely delusional.
“You’ll see.” Voldemort said with a knowing smile before stepping back into darkness and out of her view.
That night she stood by the bars ready to lunge out when they opened for her victim. When she sprang forward a hard body collided with hers and they were both tossed back into the cell.
“Hermione?” Her next victim asked and she could feel herself pulled into a tight hug.
She screamed as she looked up into dark eyes.
“Hermione what’s wrong?” The boy with the lightning scar asked as he moved off her.
“No.” She whimpered as her whole body started to shake. “No, not you, not you.” She said shaking her head and moving as far from the confused boy as she could. “Anyone but you.” She gasped between sobs.
“What’s wrong?” He asked again as her stomach started to twist.
“Stay near the bars Harry. I can’t think of anything else.” She told him still shaking her head.
“What? Why?” He asked not sounding as frightened as he should be.
“I’m going to kill you. He’s going to make me kill you.” She whimpered as she worked harder than she ever had before to keep herself in check. Every muscle in her body was taught with stress.
In the end nothing helped. It became too much for her to hold back and when the beast took her Harry only lasted a little longer than any of the others.
She woke to the feel of someone gripping her neck in a painful grasp. “You’re mine.” The man growled over her. “Mine.” He said fiercely as he slammed her head into the stone.
“That is not how we ask Brute.” Voldemort said from nearby. “What were you supposed to say?” He said in a mockingly patient tone.
“She’s mine?” The man growled, but it sounded more like asking.
“Ask her.” Voldemort ordered.
The man on top of her grunted and it gave her a chance to let her vision clear so she could look up into another familiar face.
“What are you?” He asked as if finally he remembered his orders.
“No.” Hermione whimpered as her Ron’s kind face twisted into something animalistic.
“You are mine.” He growled slamming her head a few more times. “Not no. I’ll show her!” He said moving to turn her onto her stomach.
“Brute down.” Voldemort ordered and she found herself alone on cold stone.
“Let it all sink in my little bitch.” The dark wizard said in a soothing tone. “Everything will be better once you know what you are.”
“What am I?” She asked not even knowing the answer he wanted exactly.
“You’re a monster. One that serves me.” He said sounding oh so certain.
“No! No I don’t serve you.” She said shaking her head. She couldn’t deny that she was a monster. She had killed all hope.
“Really? What have you been doing the last five months? You’ve been killing those who defy me. You serve me Princess just let yourself admit it. You can either be happy with my Brute or suffer here.”
“I need to think.” She whimpered she didn’t wish to face Ron again so soon.
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