You Won't Know

When Hermione awoke, she was staring up at a plain gray ceiling.

She slowly sat up and realized that the walls were bare, and it was windowless, as far as she could see.

There was a doorway—the door had been removed—not far from where she was.

She was on a plain four poster bed, and she did not know where she was.

Nor did she care.

Hermione rolled onto her side and scrunched into a tiny ball.  Her eyes were wet, and were tired from crying, but every time she thought of Ron, new waves of tears came.

She closed her eyes.  She wanted to die.  She wanted Ron, but she wasn’t going to have him anytime soon, probably never if Malfoy had anything to say about it.

Malfoy who was crazy.

Malfoy, who apparently for years had been attacking her, raping her, doing all sorts of things to her—and erasing her memory.

Because he loved her?  She cringed.  Ron loved her.  Malfoy was crazy.  Insane.  She was terrified of him.

And now she was trapped, because Ron needed her to be strong; because Malfoy would hurt him if she didn’t cooperate.

She covered her face with her hands and shook with the force of her sobs; it was unfair.  It wasn’t right.  Things were not supposed to be this way.

“You’ve awoken.”

A soft voice, from behind her.

She tensed.  When had he come?  She wanted to run and hide.  He was the bogeyman; the monster. 

She felt a hand on her back, and hated him, hated everything, everyone.  Why her?  Why this?

Malfoy turned her to face him, and she looked at him, because she knew he would be angry if she closed her eyes.

He watched her with wide eyes.  He didn’t look like a crazy person right now—he looked like the regular Malfoy.

Which only made him so much scarier, because she couldn’t put him in a neat box.  He was harder to label.  Easier to deceive others--like he had done to her, to Harry, and Ron. 

“Did you sleep well?”  He murmured, “I wanted to hold you, but I had work.”

He paused, then traced her lips, “Don’t ever think about him, because I’ll know.  I just can’t stand it Hermione.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly, reverently.  “I’ll take care of you.  It’ll be wonderful.  Perfect.  We’ll be happy.”

She couldn’t stop the tears.  She’d been crying so much, and Malfoy grew agitated, running a hand through his hair.

“What the fuck is the matter?  I took care of everything—he isn’t in prison.  I could have killed him and I didn’t.  I could have just kept fucking you in secret and you never would have known—isn’t this better Hermione?  Isn’t it more honest?”

He leaned closer, “Why should I have to hide my wants?  I want you, so I took you.  Quit pissing me of!”

She flinched, and he pushed her onto her stomach.

Malfoy had a perpetual hard-on when he was around her.  He had planned to take it slow today, but she always managed to drive him over the edge.

Like now, she was squirming against his cock, just trying to evade it, like she didn’t really want it.  He loved the games, their loveplay.

Laughing, he pulled her dress up and clutched her pussy with his hand, then leaned in to hiss in her ear, “You are mine Hermione, get used to it.”

She gasped when he rammed his cock into her, and cried out sharply when he drew out to slam back in.

He pulled out and turned her onto her back and brought his chest down to her, so that it rubbed against her breasts.  Her body was hot, and she was breathing heavily, her face pale and taut.

“Don’t you want me too, Hermione?” 

She gave him a wild-eyed look—not the answer he wanted, so he slammed into her again, and cruelly played with her tits.

He looked angry as he took her, and even when he had spilled his cum in her, it wasn’t enough.

He pulled out and rammed into her ass, causing her to howl in pain.  “Whores like it here, don’t they?  Don’t they?!”

Hermione screamed, he was tearing her apart it hurt, and she couldn’t shake him off no matter how badly she tried to unseat him.

He kept thrusting, a relentless pain, and she though she would black out from it all, but he began shooting his cum into her, and he slowed, stroking her back.

He pulled out of her, murmuring sweet words, love words, then pulled her against him.

She ached, and she wanted to kill him and herself, but couldn’t.  She was so humiliated, so miserable, and felt worthless.  Why was she alive?  Because she breathed.

Malfoy rubbed her stomach, caressing her breasts, while whispering in her ear, “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou…”  Over and over again, like a chant.

She thought of the future stretching ahead of her and wept.

Fin.

--I wanted to show a vicious, evil and as the story progressed insane Malfoy who is paired with a Hermione who is very much in love with Ron; she is not supposed to like Malfoy-- but if you want to interpret it that way, that's cool—

--love darkfics; hope this satisfies your desires

--Thanks everyone for the reviews!