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His Crowning Achievement	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 872 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter serie and I make no money from this fanfiction

Chapter List
- 1-His Crowning Achievement
- 1
A/N:
Proceed with caution. This is a whump fic. Dark, dark, dark. You have been warned.
This is a gift fic for Sukimiya because she inspired me to write more snakeface Tomione aka Volmione.
xxx

His Crowning Achievement

“My Lord,” Antonin Dolohov said, tossing the struggling girl harshly to the floor, “as ordered, we brought you Potter’s Mudblood.”

Lord Voldemort raised a non-existing eyebrow at the clear gash going all the way up Dolohov’s arm and the state of the girl in question.

“She was being terribly disagreeable, my Lord, didn’t want to come for some reason,’ Antonin said, shrugging, inciting laughter all around. ‘A true untamed animal.’

Quietly Voldemort assessed the prisoner thrown at his feet, her robes torn and filthy, her unconstrained hair rising in anger as she pushed herself up into a seated position. There was a smear of dirt mixed with blood from the shallow wound on her forehead, but by the disjointed way she’d moved, he knew there were other injuries he wasn’t yet apprised of. They’d be minor, though; he hadn’t given his Death Eaters permission to severely hurt the girl.

Yet.

Her bare legs folded partly underneath her, she lifted her head in clear defiance, ignoring the jeers sent her way by his followers.

Strength. Courage. Power.

Lord Voldemort never scoffed at anyone who had that in spades like this Mudblood did.

Plus, the hate in her eyes bore promise. There was intelligence as well. It showed not only in those brown eyes but inside her clever mind as well, the many thoughts that flitted through it in rapid succession. She was afraid—she'd be a fool if she weren't—but determined not to show it.

Definitely not a snivelling coward like so many others he’d encountered.

He had a profound appreciation for bravery even when it was pointless.

Agilely he rose to his feet, noting the rising tension in her shoulders and the way she swallowed in reflex when he pulled out his wand.

She was young (barely of age), innocent, malleable —her deeply moral aversion to the Dark Arts gloriously highlighted her extreme susceptibility. It was always the quiet ones in the shadows you should watch out for. The smart ones.

He knew. He’d been one.

“You won't get Harry's whereabouts from my mind,” she said with a triumphant, little smile. “You won't get anything from me about the Order.”

Instant silence fell upon the crowd, almost like they feared he'd turn on them if they didn’t hold their breaths. But Lord Voldemort knew. He always knew. He'd already seen her memory of Obliviating herself of the knowledge right before she was caught. His Death Eaters had been too slow, too busy taunting and toying with her, instead of stopping her Memory Charm. She'd done a thorough job of it, too. There would be no point to dive deeper into her mind for reminiscences.

Pity for her, it mattered not.

He hadn't ordered her capture to interrogate her about insignificant, inevitably losing, third parties.

No, after the loss of several of his Horcruxes, he'd focused his attention on the ragtag band surrounding Potter, and that sneaky little witch had been the one who'd stood out to him. She stilled when the tip of his wand not only pushed up her chin but levitated her body until she stood on her bare feet before him. Her teeth clenched together to not cry out at the strain standing caused on the many wounds her body had sustained. Now that the front of her robes had opened, she was left almost solely in her underwear.

Exposed.

Yet she didn't move to cover herself up with the rags that were left of her clothes. The corner of his lips curled up, his red eyes burning with malice. The barely visible tremble of her small body as he invaded her personal space delighted him.

He loved breaking the strong ones, and this one…

Ooooh.

He drew in an elongated breath through his slits-for-nostrils. Her scent was positively intoxicating.

All it would take was a little push, and she'd fall.

“You smell of the Dark Arts, Hermione Jean Granger. ”

Her eyes widened; her skin paled when he followed the contours of her face with the tip of his wand. He licked his thumb before cupping her face with his other hand and wiping away the dirt and blood with his spit. She flinched. The turmoil in her mind combined with her iron self restraint to not back away from his deliberately salacious move kept his interest. He wouldn’t have allowed it, but that she managed was an impressive feat all by itself. Her jaw tightened, defiance shining in her eyes. So young, so daring, even though she knew she'd lost.

“Must be from when I destroyed your cup.”

So, she angled for a quick death.

His Death Eaters yelled various obscenities, suggestions of torture and slow deaths to prove to him their worth and show their anger at her irreverence. He ignored them, just like she did. Her attention was fully on him as it should be.

However, she would come to learn Lord Voldemort wasn't that easily provoked into a rage killing, but he understood why she would think otherwise. She'd been so wonderfully misinformed about him by the fools around her. Not to mention that his immortality was still very much in effect, despite the little chit’s best efforts. After all, Horcruxes hadn't been his sole method, but no need to inform her or anyone else of that. They could go on assuming they’d won that battle. It would be all the more sweeter when he would prove them wrong and wipe that security away.

“No,” he said softly, his spidery hand drawing down her throat, her chest, brushing her breast before slipping between the torn fabric of whatever dress she'd worn and settling firmly on her waist.

The little gasp that escaped her lips from their intimate skin-on-skin contact was utterly delightful and so was her unease. He relished it. Lashing out, his power whirled around her, sliding over her skin and leaving behind a trail of corruption. She swayed in its wake and fell against him. His hand slid from her side to her back, holding her tightly against his body when her small hands landed on his chest, finally trying to push herself away, that iron restraint broken. He would allow no such reprieve. Excitement filled him. She was his now. Leaning towards her ear, he added,

“It's your own dark magic that calls to me, pretty little Mudblood. You can feel it, too, can't you?”

He held her tightly when her knees buckled upon his immediate dark stimulation of her sensitive areas. She still shook her head, though, her wild curls brushing his face, her subconsciously tentative reach of magic an absolute delight within his allconsuming power. He grabbed a hold of her hair, drawing her power to him while he yanked her head back, pushing her lower body against his and enjoying the widening of her eyes upon feeling his hardness poke into her belly.

“Don't lie to Lord Voldemort, foolish girl, he always knows.”

There were tears swimming in her eyes now. The fear upon the realisation what was about to occur was like an aphrodisiac to him. Her body betrayed the objections of her mind, and she had no way to combat him, no way to stop the pounding inside her sex, no way to stop the ever rising culmination of need. She was simply too inexperienced for what he had planned. Too unaware of possible countermeasures against the lust he slowly drizzled into her unwittingly receptive body. Her cunt was going to look marvellous around his cock. She was going to look marvellous on his cock.

“Your magic calls to mine. It desires to be conquered, taken , so your darkness can finally emerge and bend to my will as you were born to do.”

“I will never become a dark witch.”

He blocked out the laughter and clear excitement his followers were now exhibiting; they knew what came next. His focus was on her and her alone. Her stubbornness and naivety were almost endearing, especially when he could sense the fear inside of her—the doubt that dwelled in a dark corner of her mind telling her she was no good and that he was right. A fear he was more than happy to stimulate and prove correct.

“Incorrect, my filthy Mudblood. When I'm done with you, you'll be Lord Voldemort’s dark witch in every way possible for the entire world to see.”

With a mere push of his magic, her remaining clothes vanished and catcalls filled the room as he lifted her up, forcing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. It wasn't the Imperius Curse, but something more insidious and less easy to detect. A compulsion to do his bidding created by lust, desire and his will. It wouldn't blanken her mind, she'd be conscious and aware of her actions yet unable to stop herself. His cock found her already dripping cunt with ease. As he buried himself deeply inside her tight passage, her cry filled the room. He stilled inside of her, enjoying the sensation of her hot, wet, soft cavern gripping him tightly.

There was pain, confusion and desire in her eyes. She didn't want this, yet she did. Part of her wanted desperately to cover up, to not be seen by everyone like this, and another part—the part he brought forth—enjoyed that everyone was watching her. Even in that lust-filled haze, her clever mind deduced she'd been cursed with something, that he made her feel this way, that this wasn't her choice yet she had to, that she shouldn't blame herself for what was to come. He loved this part of the curse, where his victim knew yet was unable to stop feeling. It was such a wonderful mindfuck. Conjuring a small chair behind him, he sat down so her feet could touch the ground.

“Yes, Mudblood, service your Master,” he said, his red eyes glinting down at her. “Move for me.”

Unable to resist, she followed his orders, moving up and down his cock at a pace he desired. Her watery eyes never wavered from his as he explored her soft curves to his heart’s content, watching her every reaction to the combination of pain and pleasure he inflicted upon her willing yet unwilling form. The various shallow wounds on her body were a wondrous assistance to show her her proper place, to have her acknowledge her body was no longer her own but existed solely for his pleasure. Enjoying the feel of her young body beneath his hands, he moulded her into his precious perfect toy.

Her soft moans and cries were music to his ears, but her analytic mind was the most delicious place he'd ever encountered. There was a level of acceptance he'd not seen before in any of his previous victims—a cold distant observation, as if by an unaffected third party, at what he was doing to her. He'd seen people dissociate before while under his spell. There were many ways the brain tried to protect itself from horrors, but that wasn't what she was doing. She was very aware and in the moment. She knew she was naked and on display for all to feast their eyes upon. She knew she was fucking Lord Voldemort and made to enjoy it. He grinned at seeing her mind wonder about what kind of spell could produce these effects, at the power and knowledge needed to achieve it. Her will to learn was positively intoxicating and desirable.

Corrupting her, bending her to his will, would have to start with that inquisitive mind of hers.

When he finally came inside her, his magic forced her body to follow his climax and take his lead to full abandonment. She was glorious in her surrender, her whole body shaking in the aftermath of her orgasm. His magic circled her perspiring form like a never ending snake and marked her, burning an eight shaped snake into her skin from one collarbone to the next, carrying the words: “Lord Voldemort’s Mudblood”. It tied her body solidly to him. Eventually the rest of her would follow. Hermione Jean Granger was now his.

Forever.

Tomorrow he'd begin her true training.

Tonight, her sole purpose of existence was to serve her betters. When he tossed her to the crowd, he was unsurprised Antonin caught her first. Without the pleasure of his magic and the full return of her will and absence of lust, her desperate scream was worse than that from a mortally wounded animal. She fought them long and hard, but she was unarmed and no match for the experienced wizards who held her down and would take everything they wanted from her. He stayed to watch, because even though he’d seen this type of show before, Harry Potter hadn’t.

Lowering his Occlumency shields, he could feel the pathetic boy’s mind immediately reaching out. No finesse whatsoever. The boy's anguish at having lost his friend was like a balm on his soul.

In a manner of speaking.

If he’d still had one.

He made sure Potter couldn’t flee the images of the defilement of his Mudblood friend. He kept him there, in the moment. The visuals he forced upon Potter were too much. His cock grew half mast at feeling the boy’s anger, angst, the guilt and the most delicious, self-loathing, horrified pangs of arousal as Potter watched his friend choke on Yaxley’s cock next while Amycus took her from behind. Voldemort made sure he saw Walden carve into her flesh and the caning Lucius applied to her. When she bit off Pettigrew’s cock (because the fool had forgotten to cast the charm protecting against that), Bellatrix had fun pulling out all her teeth one by one with large iron pliers, cackling loudly about Muggle dentistry. There was blood all over the Mudblood’s face now, too.

And so the torture went on and on and on.

Voldemort made sure every scream reached his and thus Potter’s ears and, as his arousal spread to Potter, made the boy feel horrified and disgusted with himself while the Mudblood was forced to spread her legs wide for every cock available. He appreciated watching Rodolphus and Rabastan’s creativity with ropes. The way they bound her shoulders, arms, breasts, hips, legs and throat, before they slung her around like a sack of potatoes, having her dangling helplessly from the ceiling.

On cue, Bellatrix immediately Cruciated her when the men sandwiched her, forcing her to take their cocks up her arse and cunt simultaneously while the ropes cut off her air supply briefly upon each thrust. Antonin laughed, conjured up a ladder, and joined them, yanking her head back and stifling her screams with his cock. They found a perfect rhythm between them, pounding into her abused holes while the unimaginable pain from the Cruciatus Curse soared through her. It was masterful to watch.

Beautiful.

Wondrous.

The Potter boy whimpered, filled with his need. The conflicting emotions were a joy to be had, a proper eradication of a once mildly irritating annoyance, a bug underneath his foot, now forever being squashed by feeble and useless emotions.

So easily broken. So weak.

Why hadn’t he thought of this before?

Absent-mindedly, he swooshed his wand, forcing everyone in the party to orgasm simultaneously, excluding his precious Mudblood. She would learn fast that the only pleasure to be found from hereon were to be gained from him, her Master, her refuge, her deliverance.

Satisfied, the men pulled away. Bellatrix snapped her fingers, vanquishing the ropes. Hermione plummeted to the ground. Her knee hit the ground first with a sickening crack. She just caught herself on her hands to prevent her face from smacking into the floor. There was no reprieve for the little witch. Scabior flung her around with a Hovering Charm, penetrating her undoubtedly raw cunt immediately. Voldemort noted how her left leg dangled at an odd angle now and how Antonin shoved the masturbating Thorfinn Rowle out of the way.

Clearly his loyal follower couldn’t get enough of His Mudblood. An obsession Lord Voldemort would allow.

For now.

The wizard had, after all, once lost his memories because of the little chit, so a bit of payback was naturally authorised. Antonin cast a spell on himself, hardening his cock, and before anyone else dared take his place, he yanked her head back and entered her mouth once more. Disappointed, Thorfinn sprayed his load all over the Mudblood’s chest and belly instead.

The humiliation of it all, the pain, the desperation, the hopelessness, Voldemort savoured every second of it. To him, she looked positively marvellous, being used like the thing that she was. His excitement at conquering both his enemies simultaneously put undue pressure on his leaking cock and that discomfort just would not do.

He rose from his chair and approached her, gesturing at the briefly hesitating others to continue. Voldemort pulled the witch’s hand inside his robes and placed her fingers around his cock. She was no longer fighting any of them, obeying their orders without needing to be told what to do like a proper Mudblood whore. He didn’t need a Lubrication Charm, her fingers were dripping with her blood and others cum as she obediently began jerking him off.

Feel her, Harry. Marvellous, isn’t she? Or have you not felt her soft hand grip your cock before? Have you not been inside her sweet tight passage like I have? Though it won’t be so tight after we’re all done with her, will it?

He mentally laughed at Potter’s reaction. There was fury, despair and arousal all mixed together. It confused the boy thoroughly.

Look at how well she takes Antonin’s cock down her throat; how pretty she is choking on Death Eater cum and her filthy blood. Did you ever feel her marvellous mouth on you, Harry? Have you had her luscious lips curl around your cock as she sucks like only a Mudblood can? Or is this your first time feeling her, enjoying her?

Shame burned through the boy as Voldemort placed his hand on one of her perky, soft breasts before he squeezed. He nodded to Bellatrix who eagerly came forth with a set of burning nipple piercings, linked together with a white hot, stainless steel chain. Harry screamed inside his mind while the Mudblood writhed in pain underneath his hand as Bellatrix shoved the blunt metal through her nipple. Her fingers tightened around his cock like a vice, erupting a moan from his mouth. He always did love some pain with his pleasure.

Voldemort’s joy at seeing her suffer spread onwards: his emotions, his feelings, his delight. There was no escape for the boy; he had full control now. He grabbed the other breast and squeezed. Overjoyed, Bellatrix pierced the other nipple and dropped the metal-linked chain on her skin when he’d let go. It was a wonderful symphony inside his head: Bellatrix’s cackle, the loud slaps of colliding hips, Hermione’s muffled screams around Dolohov’s cock, Potter’s screams, Scabior’s yell upon his completion, and the sizzle of the Mudblood’s flesh as the burning chain slid over her skin.

Don’t worry, Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort is here to teach you to take pleasure from a Mudslut’s pain. This is what she is genetically dispositioned to do. This is how Mudbloods should be treated.

He whispered the vile words inside the boy’s mind, while the Mudblood’s fingers kept pumping his cock, appropriately demonstrating the righteousness of his words. His high-pitched laugh filled the room when Dolohov pulled out and sprayed his cum all over the Mudblood’s face, forcing her to close her eyes as she screamed and screamed and screamed.

They should be branded like the cattle they are, right, Harry? They should be marked by their owner. It feels nice, doesn’t it? How she squeezes our cocks upon her pain. Feel those nimble fingers of hers on our cocks, Harry. Notice how, without anyone having taught her, her innate Mudblood self knows how to properly serve her superiors.

And she knows, Harry.

She knows you’re here, helping Lord Voldemort break her in.

Harry’s mind struggled with the bombardment of conflicting inputs he served at the boy, the poison he fed him.

Let’s take it a step further, shall we?

The protestations, the “take me instead”, and the begging became less and less vocal. There was something else rising now. Something delightfully dark and familiar. Something that drew immense satisfaction at watching what occurred.

Oooooh.

That explained a lot. If only he’d known sooner.

Leave her alone.

By Merlin, that boy was too persistent.

“Gag her, Bella,” he ordered, getting quite tired of the Mudblood’s wailing.

She didn’t need to be told twice, gathering the many dirty, discarded underpants lying around in one swish of her wand and stuffing them down the Mudblood’s throat, sealing it magically. Watching Granger’s panic as she struggled to breathe gave him such a thrill. He knew just how to permanently silence the boy and bring forth himself.

He gestured at Greyback who was drinking heavily to come forth to replace Scabior who pulled out reluctantly. There were burn marks, cuts, bruises and blood everywhere on her already duly ravaged body. He slipped reluctantly from her fingers to make sure Potter (and his other self) saw the abuse her cunt and arse had taken, too. Greyback finished his beer and, upon witnessing Voldemort’s smirk and nod of approval, shoved the glass bottle up her arse in one flail swoop. Her holler elated him.

“Try not to squeeze, Mudblood!” Bella cackled.

I wonder if she’ll enjoy a werewolf’s cock up her filthy Mudcunt? What do you think, Harry Potter? Would you like to witness her cunt rupturing? A were’s cock swells, you know, once inside. I reckon it will break that bottle.

He could sense Harry Potter retreating, his will to flee what was to come. Another entity, however, thrummed with excitement, with a clear desire to see. He wanted to live, to stop his neverending slumber. Lord Voldemort knew how to get him there.

“Make it hurt, Fenrir,” he whispered into the werewolf’s ear, “but no biting.”

The werewolf nodded.

“Oh, and Fenrir,” he added casually as he strolled around the were, “that bottle better break or it’ll go up your arse and then Bella can do whatever she wants with you.”

Voldemort hadn’t forgotten how Fenrir had bungled his last assignment. This should give him all the incentive he needed to succeed. The condescending sniggers of his other followers clearly incensed Greyback, because he grabbed the still levitated witch by the ankle of her bad leg and pulled hard. Hermione’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she passed out. Several slaps to her face and a waterfall of ice-cold water later jolted her back to awareness, her eyes wild and her body shivering. Goosebumps raised all over her skin.

“Back with us again, pretty girl?” Greyback purred, bending over her, his saliva dripping onto her chin. “Oh, why so afraid?”

The fear in Granger’s eyes burned through Voldemort’s veins like a lust potion.

Greyback placed his hands on her shoulders in a deceptively soft manner, but the girl was not deceived. Her body's tension was sharper than a crossbow. Fenrir's long yellow nails raked over her chest and belly, leaving sharp gashes in its wake and making her scream into her gag. The pain had caused her to clench, to tighten her opening. His mouth bit down on the metal chain, stretching her tits as he rose to a standing position between her legs. She was forced to bend her back, clenching her stomach muscles to gain some relief. Voldemort rejoiced seeing that, knowing it would make her even tighter. Greyback dug his nails into her hips, positioning his wide, thick cock before her cramped up, bleeding entrance. Then he violently shoved himself inside of her, tossing his head back, as her cunt ruptured around him.

Satisfied Voldemort took in the sight of her on that massive cock, the way her battered body contorted, trying in vain to escape, the way her nipples elongated from the strain. It was the most arousing thing he’d ever witnessed. He stopped by her head, his spidery hand sliding into her cum-caked hair, stroking it softly, while Greyback pounded into her with a vengeance.

“Good girl,” he whispered, targeting her absurd need for validation. “Your logical mind is such a delightful thing, and you do take your punishment so well, like any proper Mudblood should.”

Those big brown eyes pleaded with him to make it stop; spit, tears, blood and cum properly stained her face, and her nostrils flared desperately. The gag had become soaked with blood, staining a wondrous dark-red from Bella’s rough dental treatment. Her whole body shook every time Greyback plunged deep inside of her. His spidery fingers gripped her hair tightly, not liking it when her attention wavered from him. She had to look into his eyes. He had to see.

“Harry’s watching, my pet.”

Horrified, she tried to shake her head in his grip, but he wouldn’t let her. Though he was impressed with the clarity still visible in her mind, that kind of thinking of others’ well-being had to be extinguished permanently.

Greyback groaned, tossing his head back and letting out a howl as he came. The chain recoiled, smacking against her chest. A loud crack sounded upon the extension of his knot. Hermione thrashed around wildly, her forehead perspiring, her skin whitening, her heartbeat pounding inside her ears. Her body temperature dropped rapidly. She was clearly going into shock.

No matter, he’d keep her alive and aware, making sure she’d feel everything.

Voldemort smiled, his slitted pupils widening to ovals as blood poured from her arse in a steady stream. He moved behind her head, bending down to look over her abused body attached to the still howling werewolf. From this position he could see the bulge forming where their bodies were joined as well as show Harry the pain and desperation in her eyes, her need for it to end, to stop. She wanted to die now. He could tell, and so could Harry. It was magnificent. He could use both of them so well against each other.

“Harry is so hard right now, watching you fuck all of us like this, watching your filthy mudblood cunt expand to please us, watching you endure unimaginable pain for our pleasure.”

She didn’t want to believe him. Her mind refused to.

Voldemort felt rather insulted. It wasn’t a complete lie. The boy was hard.

As hard as Voldemort could get him.

“Harry desperately needs to come now; do you think I should let him, Hermione? Do you think you can make both of us come if I allow your filthy, unworthy mouth to worship me?” he snarled that last part viciously at her as he saw the realisation in her mind that he was doing to Harry what he’d done to her before.

Clever, clever girl.

It was a bit more now, though, after he’d realised the connection they shared was because a part of him was there, desperate to be freed, to be woken permanently and forever. She would assist him with that. It would break her once she realised she was the reason Harry Potter was gone.

With a quick wave of his hand, the gag vanished from her mouth. She coughed and spitted, her blood landed on his robes, as she tried to take in an unrestricted breath. Yanking her head back, he whispered softly, in gentle promising coaxing tones,

“I might make it all stop if you do.”

Hope was such a beautiful thing.

Once squashed.

The way she now looked up at him filled him with malicious glee. She wanted it to stop. She needed it to stop. Her battered body couldn’t take much more. She was cold, so very cold. Yet the other part of her mind told her it would destroy Harry, and she shouldn’t.

That part had to stop existing.

“I might even heal you.”

The thought of no more pain weighed heavily on her, especially with that knot thrumming away inside of her cunt and Greyback’s nails continuously scraping over her hips and outer thighs.

‘Or we can continue showing Harry how many cocks can fit together at the same time into that filthy Mudblood cunt of yours when Greyback is done breaking you in?”

He knew either way, it would destroy Potter, and so did she. Potter wouldn’t, couldn’t, come to her rescue. She was all alone. At their mercy. Lord Voldemort was her only chance at salvation.

When she hesitantly opened her mouth, victory swelled inside his chest. Enjoying the sight of her defeat and submission, he pushed his cock inside her waiting mouth, not giving her a chance to adjust and feeling his balls slap against her face. Her toothless mouth sucked on him with abandon, despite the pain still inflicted upon her.

Look at her, Harry. Her cunt sealed off by a werewolf’s knot, yet her Muddy desire is still unabated. She still needs more. She’s still unsatiated.

He relished in forcing her to take all of him down, his fingers sliding around her throat, seeing her struggle for air, seeing her blood coat his cock whenever he retreated.

Still she put in her all to pleasure him, undoubtedly hoping he’d be done faster this way. What she lacked in experience, she surely made up in fervour.

Do you feel how well she sucks us off? See how our cock makes her throat swell, how she chokes around us? Do you feel her tongue sliding around our flesh?

Oh yes, Harry, that’s it. Touch yourself.

His high-pitched laugh filled the room.

I’m going to fill her filthy, disgusting Mudblood mouth now, Harry. Do be ready. I’d hate for you to miss out on such a glorious orgasmic experience.

As he came, he pulled Potter with him, forcing the boy’s ejaculation, feeling the boy’s mind break. His victory was glorious.

Well done, Harry, well done, another cold voice replied mockingly. It’s about time you went to sleep and allowed Lord Voldemort to take over the reigns of this body.

Destroy everyone in that Order, he told himself immediately. This is an advantage we have to milk.

Already on it. I think I’ll visit Ginevra first. She’ll love seeing us again.

Both their cold laughs mingled through their mental connection. Satisfied with his enemy’s destruction, he patted Hermione’s head, pulling his softening cock from her mouth with a pop. He looked around towards his loyal followers and said,

“Make sure she’s continuously filled in every hole like a proper Mudblood should be. She still hasn’t learned where her rightful place is. When I get back tomorrow, I expect her to not only know but also show it, gents. Do not disappoint me and break her but make sure to keep her alive.”

Her screams were glorious as his Death Eaters fell upon her like vultures when he sauntered away.

“No, please! You promised to make it stop. Please, my Lord! ”

Her use of his honorific halted him for a moment, a small smile erupting on his snakelike face. She was a quick study.

“Might,” he corrected, looking at her over his shoulder and seeing her face fall before he walked away, “I said I might make it stop, but I suppose I can be a merciful Lord. You did help me eradicate Harry Potter after all.”

With a swoosh of his wand, Greyback was forcefully removed from her body; the other Death Eaters immediately stepped back. Another whirl of magic, and a multicoloured circle flowed up and down her body, vanquishing any and all damage upon each passage. When she was fully healed, he snapped his fingers.

“Watch out, gents. Her teeth have been restored,” he mocked, winking at her. “Enjoy, pet. You’ll be entertaining us for a long time to come.”

He sensed her despair and the resignation to her fate as the door slammed shut behind him. Once they were all done with her, nothing but darkness would remain. All that darkness would be the building blocks for him to mould her back together as he saw fit. She'd become a most valuable dark witch, his dark witch.

Perhaps he’d even allow his other self to assist him?

Yes, Hermione Jean Granger would be his crowning achievement.
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His Crowning Achievement