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A Mudblood's Place	By : WeatherTheStorm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9687 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the characters. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer! None of these chracters belong to me, I merely borrowed them from J.K Rowling. This story is purely fanfiction. I recieve nor make any money from this.
~~( Author's note)~~
Hello my lovlies! So first I want to start out by saying, this is the first story I've ever been brave enough to publish, so please be kind. I would love any feedback, or suggestions. I'm currently without a beta , so with that being said,Im accepting any of you that might be interested. Forewarning, a little about me, Im a mom of two, so my chapters may take a while to be posted. I'm going to try my best to post at least a chapter per week now that i've finally got my feet wet so to speak. Also I'm still trying to navigate the in's and out's of this site so please be patient with me!
I'd like to state again, that this story will lack fluff, there might be a bit here and there, but mostly this is a dark fic. For Ron lovers, this may not be a story for you, Ive been holding a grudge since the DH, so I made him into the miserable bastard I see him as.
This story includes dark themes of physical/sexual abuse,substance abuse/alcoholisim,and some moments of self harm so trigger warning again , for those of you who cannot handle said themes.

Ch1: Monsters in the dark
The silent scream that tore from her throat burned like fire. Vocal cords strained and ripping in protest, even though the room was deathly quiet save for his desperate gasps and muttered curses as he violated her. Time seemed to shudder to a stop looping her in this agony. Simultaneously it trapped and drew out this moment between them until she had no tears left. The remaining wet stains on her face chilled her bruised cheeks, and she realized she couldn't remember how long she'd been down in this barren dank stone floors looked as though they had been wet for centuries.
The smell of mold, and wet decay, it was suffocating and vile , but nothing was quite as vile as the man inside her. She couldn't recall how many times he had stumbled down the master's stairs, reeking of fire whiskey and stale cigarettes. He was never sober when he visited, and she suspected he was rarely sober at all anymore. All the worse,the more he drank, the more he took pleasure in breaking wasn't even a shell of the man she had known, more resembling an alien that inhabited his body like a fleshy suit.
Hermione pressed her face to the floor. The hard surface battered and scrapped against her already abused face as he bucked into her body, aggressively chasing his climax. Her chestnut curls flopped lifelessly over her face, clinging to her sweaty skin in a grimy matted curtain of vomit and tears. She wished with all her might that she could just disconnect from her body,and float away, but the shock of who he was, who he had been to her, kept her rooted firmly in the present. Stuck in the horror of the moment.
"Fuuuuck... Mione... You're always... S... So tight!"
His fingers were curled like claws into the bunched material of her skirt at her her back into him as his pale, almost hairless, thighs slapped against her ass, he leered at her, dull cornflower blue irises, lidded with drunken lust. She could'nt help but wonder if she was the only one he treated this way. What if there were others just like her? The worst of it was, she couldnt stop him. She hadn't a wand anymore and he wasn't a waif of a man.
"Hnnngh... So... W... Wet too... You love this don't you, you little mudblood whore..."
His voice rasped out, making her insides roll as he continued to force his thick, heavy cock in her, stretching her open until she ached. He expertly tilted her pelvis in one smooth movement, angling her so that his girth pressed against the hidden bundle of nerves. Stroking with smooth glides, she could almost feel the smirk he wore as he pistoned until her own body gave way with the gentle fluttering of her walls and the steady drip of her slick arousal . He always goaded her close to the end, slurs falling from his lips like a prayer, begging for her to tell him she loved it, that she wanted him. Even though he lost himself in the fantasy he never released the silencing charm.
The sound of her sobs shattered his fragile illusion that she wanted him, that she belonged to him. Coward. It whispered through her mind over and over. It was the most awfull feeling in the world, to be violated by someone that you would have trusted with your life, loved with all your heart. It was a special kind of betrayal that hurt in the deepest parts of your being and yet no matter how it hurts you find yourself making excuses and blaming everyone but the person hurting you.
"That's right Mione, come on, tell daddy you l... Love his big, ginger cock..."
God's if only she could scream... He rolled his hips into her faster, slamming himself against her cervix,battering and punishing her insides as a tightness coiled in her belly. Today he showed her no mercy. She closed her stinging eyes trying to hold herself together willing away the feeling of her own impending climax... She hated him... She hated herself... Hated that even though she didn't want this she couldn't stop the reaction.
This is sick...Gods please make this stop... A hand gripping her waist released its hold on the material of her skirt, drifting down to rub a callused palm over the smooth, bronzed expansion of her ass. He gripped her for a moment, giving her flesh a bruising heavy weight disappeared for a moment only to return, giving the round supply flesh a stinging slap, forcing her eyes to snap open as she sucked in a surprise gasp.
"Keep your eyes open slut, I want to watch your face when I fill your filthy cunt to the brim"
Bile rose in her throat, she was going to be sick. I can't believe I... I... loved him, how can he do this to me. Just as soon as the thought drifted through her mind she felt his hand slither between the apex of her thighs, his fingers slipping between the slicks folds. He gave her clit a rough pinch, tugging on the tiny nub until her back arched, her walls clamping down around him milking the turgid flesh as her orgasm ripped through her. She heard him suck in a hiss, his other hand sliding back to palm her ass so hard his nails broke the delicate skin.
His thrusts became frantic, and wild. She could feel him pulsing, like living steel as he impaled her tiny frame. A loud groan came Straight from his diaphragm as he gave a final thrust pressing himself so deep she felt as though he was going to tear her in half. Hot spurts of his climax coated her womb with his sin and Her stomach gave a final lurch. Hermione rose from the floor just enough to silently retch, mucus and stomach acid sloshing on the stone as she gagged.
He Shoved himself away from her as she was sick his softening cock slipping from her freely. The buckle of his belt jostled as the man she had once considered her future husband stuffed his still drooling prick into his trousers. She wiped a filthy shaking hand across her mouth and she turned her haunted gaze to the man, recoiling into herself, as she watched his freckled face crumple with disgust, pale, baby blues glittering with hate.
Ron held her gaze as he righted his disheveled clothing. The warmth and love he once held for her, replaced with a cold, antipathy, as if at his core he'd always been repulsed by her. Whoever he had been before, that man had long since been dead. He had died the day that their friend had fallen. Ron and Ginny both, whatever had happened to them when the Death Eaters had carted them off it had changed who they were. Nothing on the inside remained of the family she had once fancied herself a part of.
" Straighten yourself out yeah, you look a bloody mess, even for a filthy mudblood. Can't have the blond ferret upstairs knowing what a cock hungry whore he has living down here. For someone as disgustingly rich as he is, he is right selfish with his toys. Git."
The insult to her blood status rolled off his tongue with an accustomed ease, yet it never lessened the sting it delivered to her heart. She was filthy, not even a person really, the equivalent to a rodent. Her body moved numbly, dragging her from her crumpled state, until she stood on weak legs. Hermione's knees knocked together, as she righted her skirt. The scratchy dull cotton tumbled down until it brushed the top of her shins, covering the bloody scrapes and bruises.
The color reminded her of dirty mop water, the color of filth, to reflect her position in this new couldn't hide the blooming dark purple on her cheek, but she could hide the evidence of her shame. It was bad enough she had to live with knowing that her blood was tainted, but she couldn't live with herself if anyone found out she had become a death eater cock sleeve. Hermione knew that the others that had been sold to Death Eater homes, they shared the same shame she did. Rape was a impliment to control, to weaken your true self, and it was mighty effective.
Not that anyone would care that it had been against her will, if anyone found out it would still reflect poorly on her master, that she was sullying his home by spreading her filthy legs. Snubbing her nose at his kindness, and compassion. He'd saved her by allowing her to scrub his toilets instead of being thrown to Fenir, and his insatiable pack of werewolves. Raping mud-bloods happened, but it happened quietly behind closed doors. A dirty secret that no one discussed in the open. So she would keep this awful secret if for no other reason thento protect her Master and his reputation.
Ron was silent as he regaurded her,his pale cheeks flushed with his previous actions and the alcohol that still coursed through his system. He pulled his wand from his pocket and gave a sluggish wave, releasing the silencing spell as he bent leaned to fish out an unopened bottle of whiskey from a stacked crate. Using his teeth barbarically, he unscrewed the lid and spit it on the ground before taking a heavy drink straight from the bottle. A bit dribbled down his chin as he swallowed and he let the bottle Fall rom his lips, not even bothering to wipe it away as he let out a grotesque belch.
Hermione wanted to scream again, every part of her inside and out was in agony. She wanted so badly just to curl up and lay there on the floor forever, let her life slip away so that she would never have to look at his face, or feel him on her body again, but no matter how bad things got, she could'nt give up. This horrible moment wouldn't last forever, and she refused to give up until she drew her very last breath. Harry didn't give his life for her to give up and she would carry his memory till the end. Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, she let out a shakey huff.
" I wish it had been you Ronald. You deserved to die, not Harry. If he could see you now..."
"Ah fuck off, stupid four eyed tosser, If he had been smart he would've joined the Dark Lord when he offered, could've been laid up in his own manor, shagging a pretty little pure-blooded witch. Not a care in the world. He got himself killed, and for what? So a filthy whore like you can play pretend and steal magic from us with your nose in the air? "
" I didn't steal my magic Ronald. I was born with it, just like you and every other witch and wizard."
"Bollocks. You're a theif and know-it-all swot. You are exactly where your kind belongs, under my feet and wrapped around my prick. It really is a shame about your blood though your Cunt is loads better then my wife's. I guess thats how you sneaky bitches snag a wizard to steal magic from."
He really was delusional. He had always been a bit of a pig, but this...this was something else entirely. Like some 'Invasion of the body snatchers' type of insane. Not only was he entirely convinced she some how stole her magic, he fully believed that she was making him weak by enticing him to rape her so she could do it. Ron had never been the brightest star in the sky, but he wasn't entirely stupid. Whatever they had done to him, he was fully immersed in their agenda. It didn't excuse it though, even though Malfoy was born to be a Death Eater, he wasn't down here fucking her in the muck like some sex demon.
She had thought watching Harry die had been the worst pain she could ever feel, how wrong she was. She thought surely she would die that day too, her and everyone else that had faught against Voldemort. Unfortunatly death would've been an easy way out in comparision. They had rounded them all up like cattle, locked her and her kind up in cages like beasts, and carted off the remaining blood-traitors, like Ron, and the remaining Weasley's. She hadn't seen any of them until what was left of the Malfoy's had disinergrated.
Hermione had nothing left to say to him. It was useless to plead with him to see the light. Hopeless to expect any reminants of the person he used to be to feel some sort of sympathy, because it just wasn't there anymore. She had no more energy left to keep beating this dead horse. She could hardly find the energy to roll out of bed anymore much less spend the rest of her waking torment of wanting to crawl out of her own skin to undo the brainwashing that had been done.
The ginger haired man spared no more time on her, and it wasn't until his solid frame ascended the stairs, that she drew a full breath. She could feel the remnants of her shame dribble thickly past her lower lips and lazily make a slick path down her inner thigh, clinging to her dirty skin. The urge to vomit again thrummed in her rolling stomach, but she swallowed it down. This was her life now, and if she didn't stop throwing up her meager meals, she was going to waste away. Turning away from her view of the stairs, she methodically went about lighting a few more candles, trying to eliminate some of the ever present darkness of the cellar she'd called home for the past couple of months.
As pathetic as it was, and despite how much she loathed her existance she counted herself lucky. Yes it was always cold, but she had running water with a sink, which served as a shower, a means of cleaning, and also a place she could empty the bucket she used as a toilet. It wasn't the most sanitary, but it was better then the rank stench of raw sewage. Hermione lit a final sconce, before blowing out the tapered candle in her hand, and setting it beside her straw stuffed mattress. She ignored the familiar ache that lingered between her thighs, and the raw burn in her throat, it was wasted energy and emotion to dwell on the things she could not control nor change.
From the sink, Hermione retrieved a stained ragged bit cloth that she kept folded over the lip for washing, and held the scrap under the faucet as she twisted the handle. Ice cold water poured from the rusty, metal pipe, and she shivered as it splashed over her fingers, chilling her to the bone. It seemed stupid , and selfish, but she wished more then anything in the world, that she could crawl into a claw-footed, porcelain tub, filled to the brim with water so hot, it would tinge her skin a bright pink. She missed the feeling of rich , frothy bubbles tickling her skin leaving its perfume to linger on her. It had been a privilege she had taken for granted.
Reaching for the tiny bit of soap square she had, she worked the soap into the cloth before she began to wash the bile, and salty tear stains from her face. She couldn't be seen in this state. Her master demanded nothing short of perfection, and if he had caught her scurrying around his home stinking it up with the smell of her vomit, or touching anything with her grimy fingers, the punishment he would inflict would make Ron's cellar visits seem like a tropical vacation. After she scrubbed her face until her skin felt tender, she leaned her slight body over the sink and rinsed the bile from the tips of her hair. At this point she was so cold her teeth rattled in her skull and her fingers felt blistered.
She quickly rung out her damp tresses and hiked her skirt up to her hips to swipe the cloth between her legs. She was desperate to wash away the part of Ron that he'd left behind, wipping until her folds burned from the friction. The rape itself was horrible, but it was his lack of concern of her possibly becoming pregnant from his visits, that set her anxiety to new hieghts. There would be no hiding it then, her truth would be exsposed with the growing roundness of her belly. It would be a death sentence for her.
That act in itself broke her heart. She was young, too young to ever consider being a mother yet, but it hadn't been that long ago when the feeling of his ejaculate seeping out of her had filled her her entire body with heat and the longing to one day start a family with him. She would never be free, again, much less a mother, and if she was, it wouldn't be a baby born of love. It would be just another deadly secret, created and born from violence and hate. She would never be able to feel that joy. It was just another one of the many things she had been robbed of.
Turning the water off, Hermione returned the bit of cloth and soap to their places and stood up-right, letting her skirt fall back into place. She didn't think she would ever be clean again, but the quick wipe down made her feel slightly human. In the cellar , time seemed to stand still. The only thing that gave her a clue to the passing of time, was the plumetting temperature in the room. As night-time approached, not even her thin wool blanket could stave off the chill. Luckily for her, she had been ahead of her chores, because she could only guess it was well past dinner time.
She most likely wouldn't be needed anymore until morning, but at least she was ready in case the lord called for a late night cuppa. Trudging to her flimsy, make-shift bed, she flopped her thin, worn body down onto the straw mattress. It was far from comfortable but it was more soft and warmer then the stone floor beneath it, and it wasnt long before exhaustion set in . She untucked her blanket from under her and pulled it up around her, from toes to her chin. Tired. She was so lids drooped down over whiskey colored orbs, long , thick lashes brushing against her cheeks as darkness finally claimed her and for once she didnt fight it
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A Mudblood's Place