Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

You Won't Know	By : valkyrie136 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 16432 -:- 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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This story contains a lot of triggers of rape and violence. Please do not read if these are triggers for you or if you are uncomfortable with/dislike this material.
This story is not a new story but a repost from my old account, LADY JANE.
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Hermione was in a room.

It had a bed, and a short exploration had revealed a shower, sink, and toilet.

The bathroom was a doorway—the door, for there had been one at some point—had long ago been removed.

The only door was locked, and no matter how she turned the handle or threw herself at the door, screaming for help no one came. She had done that for what felt like at least an hour before giving up, exhausted.

She paced now, looking at white walls. A simple bed, made for a single person, with a metal frame.

In many ways, the room looked like something out of an asylum—all it needed was a doctor in a white lab coat and herself in patient garb.

She herself wore her pajamas—green plaid paints and an oversized t-shirt. She was one for comfort, after all. Her feet were bare, and they were cold. The whole room was cold, but she didn’t want to go anywhere near the bed, at least not until she knew more about this place.

As if on cue, the door opened, and she blinked, dumbfounded.

Draco Malfoy closed the door behind him, without turning around, and leaned against the door. He was dressed in his usual black, and crossed his arms, watching her with disinterest.

“Malfoy?”

“Were you expecting someone?”

His voice was quiet, barely audible.

Hermione could not believe that Malfoy had a hand in her being here. But he couldn’t be working alone.

But still, this was Malfoy. A classmate. Yes, he was a cruel git, but he was still a class mate.

Still trying to digest this, she slowly asked, “What’s going on?”

“I want to spend some quality time with you.”
She stared at him, “You’re not funny, Malfoy. Why am I here? Is this to get Harry?”

He glanced up at the ceiling, as if searching for patience, then back at her, “It never gets easier, does it?” His voice was strangely…gentle.

It was downright unnerving, and Hermione was trying very hard not to show any signs of fear. She did not even have a wand.

He kicked off the wall and began to walk towards her, a slow, predatory walk.

“It’s convenient to use spells, but you and I are always forced to start from scratch. For instance…” He caught her wrist, and gripped it hard, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fucked you?”

Her eyes widened and she tried to pull away, unsuccessfully, and hissed, “Could you be anymore twisted, you slimy bastard?!” She kicked at him, but he wrapped an arm around her and pinned her against him.

It was extremely uncomfortable, and frightening, how much stronger he was—and this was Malfoy!

“You see—“ His mouth was at her ear, his voice a hot and breathy whisper, “—the first time I was just angry. So. Fucking. Angry. It was so easy. All I had to do was follow you into the girl’s room—you know all it takes is a little warning on the door and no one will come in.”

She was certain he was lying—albeit a really messed up lie—“I don’t know what you’ve been on—“

“You cried and begged me to stop. The entire time, and all I could think was this is it. I’ve finally put the mudblood in her place.” He paused. “Obliviate took care of any chance of capture. In fact, it became a good friend.”

She froze, “You’re lying. It would take a very skilled wizard to practice that spell—“

He laughed, “And do you think I just sit around and twiddle my thumbs while daddy plays with the dark lord? From whom do you think I learned?”

She shook her head, feeling sick, “No—“

“Don’t you remember Hermione?” His hand snaked down to the front of her trousers where he cupped the very feminine V between her legs, and she blanched, immediately squeezing her legs shut around his hand.

“How many times did you feel disoriented? How often did feel an unaccountable ache here?” He squeezed her there, and she gasped, trying to pull away again, unsuccessfully, “For all your so-called intelligence it didn’t help you identify the fact that I was fucking you senseless at least once a week.”

She was going to throw up. She was seriously going to throw up.

“One time, you even—can you believe it—I fucked you not yards away from your Weasley—and you even screamed and begged for him to rescue you but the fucking idiot was to preoccupied with receiving praise from others. We were just outside the locker rooms and I had to cover your mouth—you bit my hand. What a fucking bright choice of a man.”

Malfoy was laughing; laughing at an event she clearly had no memory of but was finding great amusement in.

She struggled to find her voice, and it came out surprisingly strong, “You’ve proven you’re a sick rapist bastard, so why the hell are you telling me this?”

He jerked her head back, and she cried out in pain. It hurt to have your hair pulled, your body twisted like that—of course it did—but she never really knew how much.

“I do the talking, mudblood. You don’t speak unless ordered. If you’re half as smart as you seem to think you are, then you’d catch on by now.”

She opened her mouth, and he tugged sharply on her hair, making her cry out again. She nodded her head jerkily in the affirmative, feeling her eyes tear.

Jesus, what the hell was going to happen to her?
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