In the Dragon\'s Flames

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic Books. This is a work of fanfiction. No infringement is intended and no money is being made from this story.

WARNING: This story contains dark and graphic material, including non/quasi consensual BDSM and extreme sex.


In The Dragon’s Flames 02

Dressed in on Nar Narcissa’s unaltered robes, Hermione sat at the desk of her new room and studied the newspaper in her hands in disbelief. Her arms shook and her fingers suddenly felt numb. The headline on the front page had been enough to fill her with an ominous feeling, and even when she shut her eyes she couldn’t erase the words from her mind. “Potter Among The Missing! Boy-Who-Lived Feared Dead!” More than just her offices had been attacked, and a picture of The Burrow in ruins had greeted her eyes just below that headline. She knew that by reading further she would be learning h ofh of her friends had fallen at the end of a Death Eater’s curse, and she wasn’t sure how she would react to seeing her fears set in print.

Hermione bowed her head as she gathered her courage to read on. She clutched the paper so hard that her fingers left it crumpled around her grip, as she took a deep breath and pressed onward.

While the Death Eaters had attacked the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort had led a second contingent of followers to Ron’s childhood home. Aurors had immediately been dispatched when the security spells were breached, and Harry and Ron had been among them. Bill and George had given their lives trying to defend their family, and Dean Thomas, who had been among the Aurors, had also died during the fighting. Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys were all missing in the wake of the attack. Hermione hoped that they had escaped and gone into hiding, but she couldn’t dismiss the fear that someone may have been captured. Would Draco tell her, if he knew?

According he phe paper, several offices at the ministry were in shambles. One witch and three wizards, all of whom she knew, died during the siege. Hermione was listed as missing and presumed dead, but what really caught Hermione’s attention next was a smaller article on the same page.

Ministry Witch Escapes Death Eaters

Ministry witch Lavendar Brown who was taken during You-Know-Who’s
siege against the ministry last night later escaped her captors after secretly
stealing a wand. Despite serious injuries sustained during her ordeal,
Miss Brown managed to turn an undisclosed object from her prison into a
portkey and escape to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Medical Maladies, where
she collapsed.

Her fiancé Seamus Finnegan declined to comment beyond being over-
joyed at her return, but Albus Dumbledore, who was on hand, told
reporters, “Miss Brown is a very strong and resourceful witch, who
survived a terrible ordeal by a wise and cunning ploy. Those involved in
last night’s events will see their actions towards her remembered.”

The resilient Miss Brown was able to offer no insight into the disappear-
ance of her friend and co-worker Hermione Granger. As a close friend to
Harry Potter, Miss Granger is considered to be the main target of the Death
Eater attack at the Ministry offices last night in light of the attack upon more
of Potter’s close friends at the home of Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Friend and former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore had this to say, “Miss
Granger’s well being is at the forefront of our minds, and we hope that she
and the others will be reunited with us safely by the end of these trying times.”

Miss Brown is listed in serious but stable condition, and doctors are hopeful
for her release from the hospital within the week. She is expected to make a
full recovery.

Lavendar was alive and free! Hermione let the relief at that knowledge sweep though her as she looked up at the ceiling, which was enchanted in the same fashion as the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Even if she didn’t have windows, she could still raise her face to the sun, and it felt powerfully comforting paired with the first good news to reach her since last night’s attack.

Yet the details of the article bothered her. Hermione had seen no opportunity during which Laar car could have stolen anyone’s wand. She’d have had no place to hide it. Had she perhaps been able to sneak it from someone’s pocket just before they had left her? Or had someone helped her escape? Thinking back upon Draco Malfoy’s strange departure the previous night, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder.

Hermione dropped the newspaper on top of her untouched breakfast. She had no desire to eat any of the fresh fruit or delicate pastries that had been delivered to her on Draco’s orders. She had too many questions on her mind to even notice the growling of her stomach.

Malfoy had said that he wouldn’t throw his life away on a foolish, ill-timed rescue, but would he have the compassion to attempt a methodical and calculated rescue under these circumstances? On one hand he denounced other Death Eaters as barbarians and offered his protection from them, and on the other he was willing to violate Hermione in a beastly fashion. His intentions and personal mes wes were an enigma at best. Hermione wondered if this was some twisted strategy to play upon her gratitude and make her easier prey for whatever he had planned for her.

Turning, Hermione caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror. Meant for a taller and more voluptuous frame, Narcissa’s dress hung on Hermione, bagging out unattractively as she moved. Hermione’s hair had resumed its full bushiness during her fitful attempts at sleep, and she had dark shadows under her eyes. Even her complexion looked haggard. “I really don’t look good,” she whispered to her reflection, as she fiddled with a lock of her hair. A smile twitched at the corners of her dry lips as an idea came to her. “I don’t look good at all,” she repeated with a choked off laugh.

Hermione considered ways to make herself even more unappealing for Malfoy’s promised visit tonight as she dissected her reflection in the mirror. She decided that she had no intention of letting the house elves measure her and tailor the expensive clothing to suit her. She was not going to be Malfoy’s little toy, and she would not dress to arouse the arrogant boor. She would leave his beauty and hair potions untouched along with his silver trays of food. Perhaps she would take to slouching as well.

Hermione hummed a happy little snippet of song, as she headed off to the bath. It was always such a pain trying to tame her hair anyways. Maybe it would be a nice change of pace to let it air dry into a bushy, snarled mess. It would give her more time to curl up with a good book after a nice relaxing soak.

By the time she was finished and feeling greatly invigorated, another house elf had come bearing lunch. It looked at her full breakfast plate nervously before asking in a tiny voice, “Is Mistress unhappy with her food?” The tiny creature’s humongous brown eyes made it look that much more pathetic, and a twinge of guilt ran through Hermione.

“I just don’t have an appetite after all the excitement I’ve had lately,” Hermione apologized. She tried to ignore the sumptuous aroma of herb-crusted chicken and the vibrant colours of the fresh salad to the side. An assortment of dressings was laid out alongside the plate as well. The house elf looked at her suspiciously, as Hermione’s stomach voiced its appreciation for the platter very loudly.

Hermione had skipped dinner the night before, and it had easily been twenty-four hours since her last meal. She wanted little more than to sit down and eat that delicious looking food. Still there were very few avenues for her to express her displeasure through. She might not be able to maintain her hunger strike for long, but her refusal to eat or comply with his orders would at least be a message that Malfoy couldn’t fail to notice.

Hermione took the cup of tea from the platter and seated herself on the bed to read A History of Witchcraft in Europe for the afternoon. At the sound of the house elf’s polite cough, she looked up, curious to learn what the small creature wanted to say.

“If Mistress is done eating, Tinsy is supposed to take her measurements so that her clothing can be fixed and Master Draco can order her new wardrobe,” Tinsy said, unfurling her tape measure shyly.

“That’s okay, Tinsy. These robes are fine for me already,” Hermione said brightly, returning to her book.

“But Master Draco ordered me to,” Tinsy protested with an edge of panic in her voice. “If I don’t do what Master Draco ordered, he’ll be very angry at me!” Tinsy wailed. “He might even give Tinsy clothes,” she whispein hin horror, leaning closer to Hermione so that every word would be clear.

“It’s not your fault,” Hermione told her in a serious tone, “and Iure ure that Master Draco will know that very well. Just tell him that I wouldn’t let you measure me, because I don’t feel well. As far as I’m concerned, he’s just going to have to cope with his disappointment.” She tried to look reassuringly at the frightened elf, but from the way Tinsy crouched away it was evident that Hermione had just put Tinsy in a difficult situation.

New laws for the protection of house elves had finally become a reality, and though they had declined complete freedom the treatment of house elves was now governed. Remembering the constant punishments that Dobby had endured during his service to the Malfoy family, Hermione grew worried. “Tinsy, you aren’t afraid that Master Draco is going to hurt you, are you?” Hermione asked.

“Oh no, Mistress!” Tinsy cried out in protest. “If Tinsy is a bad elf, Master Draco won’t trust her for the important jobs any more,” the house elf explained. “It will ruin Tinsy’s reputation if her Master replaces her, and then who would want a house elf that was disgraced?” The little elf twisted her tea towel in her spindly fingers as she spoke.

Hermione was relieved. “If he has a problem with my not feeling well, tell him that I said he had best take it up with me,” Hermione said, and with Tinsy’s faint nod Hermione resumed her book. Malfoy could just get stuffed in Hermione’s opinion. Taking another sip of tea, Hermione settled in for a quiet afternoon of reading and ignoring the growling of her stomach.

She was barely aware when the house elves returned early in the evening with armfuls of orchids and roses, and it was with great shock that she looked up from her book to find six elves working in her room in near silence. “Tinsy, what’s going on?” Hermione asked, and the elf looked up from the small dining table that she was decorating in the middle of the room. The elves floated white and pink orchids in a cut crystal bowl at the centre of the lace-covered table, surrounding the piece with low candles of varied heights to make sure the crystal caught the light. One of the elves hung garlands of roses, gardenias, and orchids along the walls, while another began to hang spills of gardenias and jasmine sprigs from the canopy above the bed like waterfalls of flowers.

“Master Draco wanted Tinsy to decorate your room before dinner,” Tinsy told her proudly. “He asked Tinsy to make it her prettiest work ever with all the best flowers from the greenhouse,” she giggled in her high-pitched voice, as she smoothed the fine tablecloth into place.

Hermione sighed and looked around the room in despair. She wondered what that arrogant git thought he was doing now. He couldn’t really expect her to play along with this stupid charade, could he? Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose, as she closed the book and set it to the side on her night table. “So he’s intending to eat dinner here too?” Hermione asked, incredulously.

She cringed at Tinsy’s enthusiastic nod and tried to ignore the house elf as the little creature practically sang with how beautiful and wonderful it all was and how happy it was to be working for Master Malfoy. Hermione tried to decide which was going to be more distasteful: the inevitable forced seduction that would take place beneath the canopy of ers ers or the evening of forced dinner conversation that would precede it.

Draco on the other hand was looking forward to the evening tremendously. He had spent the better part of the day locked away in stuffy board rooms making connections and business deals to continue to grow his family’s already vast wealth. It was no small task really, and it was something that Draco often found immensely boring. Manipulating silly, money-struck, old wizards o who what he wanted did eventually lose its lustre. Especially, when he could be home trying to manipulate a pretty young witch, who might actually pose a challenge to him. That was a game to hold his interest.

He had heard from Tinsy that Hermione was being less than cooperative with the servants, refusing both to be fitted and the meals that were brought to her. Hermione was as stubborn as ever. He had in his own way hoped for a nice relaxing and romantic dinner, but he had few illusions that he was going to get his wish tonight. At least he knew he would be entertained.

Hermione was still pacing the room like a caged animal when she heard Draco’s footsteps outside her door. She prepared herself to greet him with an acid remark but came up short on words when the door swung open to reveal the blonde wizard in his finest green and black dress robes and carrying a large bouquet of flowers. Hermione wondered briefly if she’d ever seen anng mng more surreal in her life, but at the same time she grudgingly had to admit that he looked devastatingly handsome.

His sleek, silky hair framed his face nicely, coming down to just below the level of his eyes on the sides and flowing smoothly into the neatly trimmed back. With his hair hanging in his cloudy grey eyes that way, he looked almost boyish and disarming. In spite of her house prejudices, Hermione also had to admit that colours like green, silver, and black suited his colouring perfectly.

Unlike the standard cloak and gown styles of most wizarding robes, his clothing tonight was a two-piece ensemble, a long, old-fashioned jacket over a pair of black suede trousers, that reminded her of the styles worn by aristocrats in days gone by. The fitted black coat had contrasting green darts and a long row of silver buttons leading up to its high collar. The black dress robe with its green insets looked marvellous, fitted perfectly to his frand pnd picked for its obvious allure, and she hated him for that.

As she checked him out, Hermione was also aware of Draco’s eyes looking her over, and she suddenly felt more than a little embarrassed. In sharp contrast to his groomed and polished appearance, Hermione looked like a neglected stepchild from some fairy tale. Narcissa’s pink silk robes hung off Hermione like a sack, now wrinkled from her long hours curled around her book. Hermione’s hair hadn’t even been brushed since her bath and the tousled mass stuck out in great snags from her hours of trying to get comfortable reading in the bed. She hadn’t touched the cosmetic potions, and she knew that she could only look worse than she had this morning.

Far from being pleased at having thwarted him, Hermione found herself deeply annoyed by the fact that he looked so much better than she did. It simply wasn’t right! She watched his grey eyes study her with a carefully neutral expression, and she immediately paled wondering how he was going to react to her disobedience. Rather than comment on her appearance, Draco simply handed her the large bouquet with a slight bow.

Hermione gritted her teeth and tried to resist the urge to beat him over the head with his flowers.

“I trust you’re feeling better,” Draco said smoothly. “I hope you weren’t in too great distress this afternoon,” he added with a smile, although he cle clearly sizing her up with his cold silver eyes.

“I’m afraid that I still feel rather ill,” Hermione told him tartly.

“I’m sure your condition will improve after a good meal and a little company,” Draco said with great assurance. His expression hardened into an unmistakable warning look. “Otherwise I’ll have to assume that it’s something serious, and I’ll be forced to consult my MediMagic kit for you.”

“You’re all attentiveness,” Hermione replied in dry sarcasm, as she handed the bouquet roughly to the nearest house elf. “I’d invite you in, but I really don’t need to, do I?” she added, giving him a saccharine smile for a moment before dropping any pretence of pleasure.

Unfazed in the slightest, Draco closed the door behind him and crossed to the table checking over the elves’ handiwork in the room. “Exceptional as always, Tinsy,” he commented lazily. “If you don’t mind, I have some contracts upstairs that need to be filed later as well,” he told the proud little elf. “I think we’re quite ready for dinner now.”

He pulled out one of the elegant antique chairs and waited for Hermione to sit. Hermione grudgingly accepted his offer, jumping nervously as soft music filled the room and he pushed the seat in for her. He reached forward and shook out Hermione’s napkin, which Tinsy had folded to resemble a swan, and he handed it to her with a lazy grin before taking his own seat across thble ble and laying his napkin neatly across his lap.

Their soup bowls magically filled themselves with a creamy leek and potato soup, and Hermione had to dig her fingers into her palm to keep from immediately lifting her spoon and tasting it. “Remember your principals,” she reminded herself silently over and over, as Draco dipped his spoon into the sumptuous soup and took a sip. He looked up at her over thoon oon as he took a second quiet sip but said nothing.

“So how was your day, darling?” he asked with no small amount of irony to his words, although his expression boasted of nothing more than genuine interest and pleasant conversation.

“It was confining and dull, thank you,” Hermione told him succinctly, folding her hands and placing them in her lap politely.

“Ah, there does seem to be a rash of that,” Draco continued, buttering a steaming fresh roll. “My own day was a dreadful bore… dealing with silly old wizards with more money than sense,” he admitted casually. “It makes one appreciate the simple delights of coming home and having a nice glass of brandy, a good dinner, and an engaging conversation,” he announced, taking a bite of roll and picking up his wine glass. “Wouldn’t you agree, Hermione?” he prompted with just the hint of a grin.

“Oh yes,” she agreed readily. “I was thinking to myself all day how much I’d love to be home,” Hermione told him, batting her eyelashes and grinning broadly.

“I suppose I’ll have to keep you… amply entertained… tonight to make up for your boredom,” Draco promised, letting his smile drop and watching her with an unreadable expression. “Is the soup not to your liking?” he asked, coolly.

“Captivity doesn’t leave me with much of an appetite, I fear,” Hermione told him bluntly. She tried to push her chair back but found it securely and magically locked into place.

“Yes, I’d rather thought that might be the case,” Draco acknowledged, phasing back into his seemingly calm conversation. “Lashing out at me by injuring yourself hardly seems like a satisfactory solution though, does it?” he mused, “Certainly not a solution worthy of a former Head Girl and one of the brightest young recruits to the Ministry.” He grinned at her again, pushing away his soup bowl and hers and taking another sip of his wine. “Perhaps the second course will be more to your liking though,” he suggested, raising his eyebrow at her.

Their plates filled themselves with baked salmon covered in a lobster cream sauce with dressed green beans to the side. Hermione closed her eyes with a sigh and looked away from the tempting plate. “It isn’t going to do you any good to make yourself sick, Hermione,” Draco told her pragmatically, offering her a forkful of the rich fish course, “and it certainly isn’t going to change the situation either.”

Hermione ignored the food that he was waving in front of her, and Draco withdrew the fork and tasted the food himself in satisfaction. “And what would you propose I do instead?” Hermione asked, looking at fromfrom the corners of her eyes. “You haven’t left me many avenues through which to express my displeasure,” she added.

“Well, I am quite capable of speech, and you are expressing your displeasure to me at the moment. This is something that purebloods call ‘conversation’ and it is a most helpful way of conveying your thoughts to others,” Draco told her with a wicked gleam in his grey eyes. “If you are talking purely about more physical expressions, well that does change the matter considerably,” he conceded.

Hermione scowled at him, as he offered her another forkful of food. “You already made it quite clear last night that nothing I say is going to change the situation either,” Hermione reminded him.

“Ah, well. If nothing you say will change anything and nothing you do will change anything, you might as well give in and enjoy some of this wonderful meal,” Draco told her, giving her plate a small nudge. “Let’s see…” Draco said thoughtfully, “you could destroy your books, but then you’d have nothing to read. You could wreck your furniture, but then you’d have to live in an ugly room. You could rip up your robes, but then you’d have nothing to wear. Or you could let your hair go to snarls until we had to cut it off because the knots were too tight,” he listed in a placid voice, and Hermione grabbed her hair protectively in spite of herself.

Draco laughed easily. “No, I’m afraid that those aren’t very good options at all, and they would definitely be more of an injury to yourself than they would to me,” he said. “Why don’t you behave like a sensible witch now and enjoy your dinner,” he commanded.

“And if I don’t?” Hermione asked, aloofly crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her tall chair.

“Then eventually I’ll be reduced to pouring gruel down your ungrateful throat, until you learn how to behave like a proper guest,” Draco told her with great amusement. “That would be your fish fork,” Draco instructed, pointing to the short fork to the left of her dinner fork. “The knife is just to the right of your meat knife,” he added, taking another bite and grinning at her from behind his napkin as he wiped his mouth politely.

“I do know the etiquette of a formal dinner,” Hermione huffed. She picked up the requested fork slowly and brought the silver knife leisurely across the flaky fish. She could see Draco watching her intently from across the table, and she resentfully took a bite of the excellently prepared dish. Hermione closed her eyes in contentment, as the buttery lobster sauce coated her taste buds. Despite the ravenous hunger that the first bite re-ignited in her, Hermione took her time both afraid of eating too quickly after such a long fast and afraid of looking less than dignified in front of the critical eye of Draco Malfoy.

“It’s good to see that’s settled,” Draco announced with a brilliant e bee before taking a bite of his green beans. “I think, perhaps, the second meat course might be too heavy after your prolonged fast, so we can skip it if you wish,” he told her, offering Hermione a small glass of white wine. “You might enjoy a taste of this as well, but don’t drink too much until you have something in your stomach,” he said, tipping the glass against her lips as Hermione tried to take only a small sip. Nodding in approval, Draco resumed his meal and light conversation.

“Tinsy tells me that you did some reading this afternoon. Did you learn anything interesting?” he asked, as he sliced his fish into bite-size pieces. “Which book is it anyhow?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“A History of Witchcraft in Europe,” Hermione answered automatically. “I would rather like to read the companion books in the series afterwards, if you can find them. I hear that Asia has some fascinating chapters in its history as do the Americas,” she said, settling in to her meal. She had to admit that it was a relief that Malfoy wasn’t trying to dominate her every minute, but she still didn’t trust him or the conversation.

“I’ll make sure they’re added to your collection then,” Draco agreed with an amicable grin.

“I did read something of particular interest today though,” Hermione told him, summoning up her nerve. “The Daily Prophet had several articles about the raids from last night,” she began, watching his jaw tighten at her turn in the conversation. After a few moments he seemed to relax, as though resigned to discussing a subject that he had expected but hoped to avoid.

“And?” he prompted without looking away from his plate.

“And I was interested in getting your opinion on a couple of points,” Hermione supplied, deciding that it would be easier to get information from him if she maintained their veneer of detached banter. He studied her over his glass of wine, but he seemed amenable enough to her approach. “Do you think it possible that Harry and the others escaped into hiding rather than having been captured?” Hermione asked, pretending to concentrate on her plate as well.

“I’d call it a certainty, Hermione,” he answered without delay. “The dark lord would have wanted to have Potter’s desecrated corpse on the cover of every newspaper from the Prophet to the Quibbler if Potter had been caught. I think you can rest assured that Potter and the Weasel family are very much alive and in hiding,” he assured her.

Hermione sighed in relief, but she quickly reigned in her reactions. If Draco was being cooperative his mood might be changed by such displays for the people he’d hated since childhood. The fish dish had been replaced with a sorbet to refresh the palate, but Draco seemed more interested in Hermione’s questions now than he did in his meal and it made her nervous. “There probably wouldn’t have even been a Daily Prophet if… You-know-who had won last night,” she said with a forced light tone and a shaky laugh. Although she had been using the name Voldemort since fifth year, she feared losing Malfoy’s cooperation by using it right now.

Draco chuckled in response. “Well, not for long anyways,” he agreed.

“I also read that Lavendar escaped her jail cell with a stolen wand,” Hermione continued carefully. “Did you see any opportunity for her to hide one or do you think it likely she was helped?” Hermione asked, looking for any sparks or hesitation in the stony walls of his grey eyes. They remained as impassive and unreadable as before though.

“I think either way the witch was uncommonly lucky to survive,” Draco responded noncommittally. He deposited his napkin on the table, before drawing his chair back from the table. “I would imagine that the tale she shared with Dumbledore was riveting,” he added as he circled the table to pull Hermione’s chair back for her. “Stand up, Hermione,” he ordered, and Hermione felt her stomach clench with nerves as she worried about his intentions towards her. Had her questions upset him so that he might be intending another punishment session, or was he simply ready to drop the pretence and use her for his own pleasures?

“What about dessert?” Hermione immediately replied, afraid to get up and give him the opportunity to pursue either course of action towards her.

“You may have your dessert later, Hermione,” he told her firmly, and the brown haired witch rose to her feet with uncertainty. “Raise your arms out to the sides, please,” Draco requested, as he stepped behind her.

He stood close to her back, and Hermione could feel his hot breath against her neck as he placed one hand on her trembling hip. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged bird, as she complied nervously. Hermione closed her eyes, hiding her fearful look behind a rim of chocolate brown lashes, although her shallow breathing spoke volumes as she waited for the ruthless man behind her to either grope or abuse her in some fashion.

“That’s good,” the frosty blonde commended, and Hermione could feel something unfurling and dangling from her shoulder down her torso. She opened her eyes to see that Draco Malfoy was holding a dressmaker’s tape measure, and she turned to stare at him in surprise. “Now that you are apparently feeling better, I felt it was a good opportunity to rectify your wardrobe situation,” Draco explained, revelling in his power to make Hermione nervous.

Hermione flushed as Draco proceeded to take her measurements with unhurried grace using his fingers and the tape itself to lingeringly caress her as he smoothed the tape against her shoulders or wrapped it over the swell of her breast. Hermione shivered as he swept the heavy mass of her hair back from her neck with a light brush of his fingertips and lightly nibbled the side of her throat.

“You can drop your arms now,” he reminded her, as he pulled her against the front of his body and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Hermione dropped her arms limply against her sides, as he continued to nuzzle her tingling neck while exploring the suppleness of her body with his slow hands. He kneaded the softness of her inner thigh with one hand while his other pressed against her tender belly, tracing a meandering path up her chest before cupping her left breast in his palm. As he pressed his body against her, she could feel the hard ridge of his desire rubbing against her back, and it set off a sexual tightening in her core.

Hermione tried to ignore the pulse thrumming between her parted thighs, as Draco unhooked the fastenings of the pink robe’s bodice with his deft fingers and slipped his hand inside to tease her bared flesh with his expert touch.

He pinched the tip of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging the sensitive nub so that it lengthened and swelled under his ministrations, and Hermione cried out. His other hand continued to squeeze and fondle her inner thigh through the layer of silk robes and Hermione could feel her legs parting further under the steady assault upon her senses, as Draco rubbed his hips against her back suggestively and ravished her neck with his hungry mouth.

Hermione whimpered trying to think of any way to halt Draco’s progress or distract him before her resolve crumpled. If only she could get him to lose his temper and turn this seduction to force, she c tur turn this desire in her veins to hatred. All she knew was that she had to do something fast. “So it doesn’t matter to you that I haven’t dressed to please you and have no intention of doing so?” Hermione asked with all the disdain she could muster. “Aren’t you the remotest bit angry to discover that I still have no respect for you or are you too emotionless of a bastard to have human feelings?”

Draco released her thigh, switching his attention to her other breast as he answered. “I never said that I wasn’t angry about your childish rebellion, my pet.” Draco told her coolly, “but I have better ways of disciplining you temper tantrums than to yell at you or become violent.” He smirked lazily and brought the hand that had been between her legs up, drawingethiething from his pocket and concealing it in his fist.

With a flick of his wrist Draco sent the innocent pink haze of silk rustling to the floor where it puddled around Hermione’s bare feet. He caught her nipples between his knuckles, tugging and squeezing them until the points of her breasts were fully erect and throbbing, and Hermione moaned and writhed against him from the continuing stimulation. In the next instant, Hermione screamed as two small metal mouths bit cruelly into her taut nipples, and Draco removed his hands to reveal a pair of brass nipple clamps in the shape of twin dragons joined by a chain. A second chain dangled like a lead from the centre of the first.

Hermione’s first instinct was to rip the bloody things off and belt Draco across the face for what he’d just done, but he had already pinned her arms to her sides with his own. It dawned on her that he probably had some enchantment on the metal monsters to prevent her from removing them and punish her for any attempt to get rid of them. She could feel the magical dragon clamps suckling at the mouthfuls of flesh that they pinched tightly and painfully in their toothless jaws.

“Owww, Draco, no! Oh, it hurts!” Hermione sobbed as Draco cupped her breasts from below, causing the heavy dragon clamps to jiggle. Hermione gasped and panted, still begging him to remove the horrid little beasts, and he gleefully tested the slack of the chain dangling between her breasts by giving it a little jerk.

“Well, then you’d best follow my instructions so that I’ll remove them quickly,” Draco suggested smoothly. He wrapped his arm around her back and took up the dangling chain in his fingers as he led her to the sturdy wooden bed, stopping her to stand along the side of the wooden frame as he sat at the edge of the mattress with his feet planted on the floor. “Lie down across my knees, please,” he directed in that same silky voice, gesturing with his hand to illustrate.

“I am not some recalcitrant child for you to spank!” Hermione protested angrily glaring at him.

“It’s only fitting for me to spank you, when you behave like a naughty child,” Dracotifitified still unperturbed. He wrapped the chain around his finger a few times, causing the dragons to pull on Hermione’s aching nipples.

The brown haired witch whimpered, letting the lead draw her forward as Draco passed the chain through the metal ring on the bed and pulled it slowly to take up the slack as she lay across his knees with her bottom in the air and the undersides of her breasts brushing along the side of his thigh.

Hermione called him something really rude, and he laughed as he drew her white bikini pants off. She could feel them leaving a trail of moisture down the insides of her thighs as the damp crotch daubed her skin, and then she could feel his finger pressing into her honeyed opening. He teasingly fucked her with that long digit for a few moments, enjoying her throaty moans. Then he moved his hand to cup her slit possessively, before stroking his hand upwards to caress the rounded cheeks of her bottom.

Draco’s hand pulled away, and Hermione tensed in anticipation of the coming slap. He brought his hand against her buttocks hard enough for the slap to ring out over their quiet breathing in the room. Hermione yelped, as the motion cauher her to rock forward on his legs so that the chain tightened and tugged at the tight clamps around her rosy nipples. She could feel a flush of heat as her soft skin coloured pink under his hand. Again he drew back, spanking her hard enough to cause tears to spring up in her eyes, as the pain and the tightening assailed both her breasts and her posterior.

He paused long enough to rub her reddening ass tenderly, before he began to spank her with a steady series of hard blows that caused her body to rock forward and her breasts to bounce, agonizingly pulling against the tight chain that made the cruel little dragon clamps bite into and stretch her already smarting nipples.

Each loud slap of his hand against her flesh hurt more than the last, as her skin became increasingly sensitive from the stinging whacks, and each blow was punctuated by Hermione’s involuntary cries and whimpers. Hermione wiggled her hips side to side and up and down, trying desperately to prevent the smacks of his bare hand from falling in the same spot, but he seemed to anticipate her actions and compensate accordingly.

“Oh! Ow! Please, stop! Please, I’ll apologize!” Hermione swore, as the tears trickled down her hot cheeks.

Draco paused. “Are you ready to apologize? You want to?” he cooed, dipping his fingers back into Hermione’s pouting folds. She was so wet that she could feel the moisture on her legs, and it was even more humiliating for him to know how aroused this abuse was making her. His fingers brushed against the tumescent nub of her centre, and Hermione moaned loudly.

“Yes, I want to apologize… please…” she told him tearfully. She hated how weak she felt at the moment, and she wondered how she could have thought for a moment that she could have stood up to his full anger if he could hurt her and have her begging while retaining his control so easily. Hermione wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to see what he was capable of if she managed to make him really angry.

Draco allowed the chain to go slack so that Hermione could slide to her knees between his parted legs. “Show me that you’re sorry, and we can end this punishment, my sweet,” he promised as Hermione crawled slowly towards the suede-clad bulge of his groin.

She placed her palms on his strong thighs, registering that his suede pants were baby soft against her skin. She tried to concentrate on the feel of the suede brushing against her skin as she ran her hands up to caress his hard arousal through the fabric. She cupped and squeezed him gently, pressing her lips against him through the soft suede as she opened the fastenings of his trousers to free his confined member.

Draco’s grey eyes focused expectantly on her, as she bent her head to kiss the purplish head of his throbbing arousal. His fingers found their way to her smooth shoulders as her cherry lips parted around the tip of him, and her tongue dipped against the tiny opening to sample the taste of him. He tightened his grip as she took him deeper into her hot mouth, her tongue tickling the spot just beneath the rim of his distended head. Then she slowly pushed him deeper into the wet recesses of her mouth, pressing her tongue firmly against the ridge of him as she swallowed more of his pulsating shaft.

Hermione cupped his tightening scrotum in her palm, and the soft golden hairs covering that delicate skin added a new dimension to the texture of him, as she fondled him encouragingly.r jar jaw was stretched uncomfortably far to accommodate him, as she tried to take as much of him as she could. Her lips and tongue slid over the silky texture of his veined hardness. She jerked nervously as he threaded his fingers into her messy hair; and the pain of the heavy clips, swaying and pulling at the nearly screaming peaks of her breasts, caused her to cry out around him. From the low moan in his throat, she could tell that Draco had enjoyed it, and she redoubled her efforts to convince him to remove his little torture device from her.

He pushed her away before she could bring him to orgasm, and Hermione prayed that it meant that he was ready to stop her punishment. She realized that he had removed his top while she was otherwise engaged, and his pale chest was heaving with his attempts to restrain himself. He quickly shed his pants, exposing the full line of his slight, sinewy frame. He didn’t have the overly muscular appearance of other men, but Hermione knew from experience just how strong his lean body was. His fully erect cock stood invitingly proud, and the coating of her saliva on his skin added to the sheen of him.

“I want you to straddle my hips, and I’ll remove our little friends,” Draco told her, giving her hip a little tug while he kissed the skin covering her ribs. Eager to have the painful restraints remove, Hermione seated herself over his lap with her legs wrapped around his back and her feet on the mattress behind him. She could smell the rich flowers hanging from the canopy above them, and it added to the dreamlike intoxication that she was starting to feel.

“That’s right, my dear,” Draco told her, kissing her breast gently. She could feel his hands reaching up towards the brass dragons, which were sucking and biting her imprisoned flesh with voracious appetites. “This is going to hurt for a few moments once they come off,” he warned her seriously, “but I’ll try to make it pass as quickly as possible.”

Before Hermione could brace herself, Draco had released the first clip and fastened his mouth over her pinched nipple, sucking and licking at her voraciously. Hermione screamed as the blood flowed back into her teat and caused it to pulse with pain. She held Draco tightly against her breast, as he continued to massage her aching point with his mouth, and she ground her hips against him desperately. Whimpers and small “oh’s” of anguish and bliss issued from her throat in a torrent, and she could feel her body becoming so wet that Draco’s cock was easily slipping against her as her body coated him with her moisture.

“That’s right,” Draco soothed, cradling her limp torso against his arm as Hermione panted for breath. Her head hung back, and she tried to steel herself for the terrible agony that would come when Draco released the second dragon-clamp. The fingers of his right hand snaked up the side of her breast as he once again covered her skin in kisses, working his way towards her dusky areola.

Hermione gave another strangled cry that subsided into moans as he removed the second clip and treated her to the same remedy from his mouth. His fingers found her other breast, and he flicked and stroked her wet peak as he suckled its twin. The intense sensitivity was maddening, and Hermione clutched his back with her nails as the pain and pleasure overwhelmed her again. Her nails scraped into his skin, causing red trails of blood to well up slowly in their wake, as she rubbed her swollen clit against his ready body. Her body was screaming for him to fill her and fuck her until she couldn’t move.

Before she could get herself off on him, Draco flipped her onto the mattress and covered her with his body. He guided her fingers to his erection and whispered against her ear, “Show me where you want this, Hermione.” He stroked her cheek then held her face steady with his palm, forcing her to stare him in the eye while she followed his command. With a sigh Hermione pressed him into her opening, and she groaned softly as the fat head of his knob pushed inside her, stretching her fragile opening around his indomitable fullness. Hermione closed her eyes and pushed her head back into the pillows, and she moaned in satisfaction as he forced himself deep inside her with a savage thrust.
D
Draco drew her hand to his lips, and kissed her palm tenderly. “That’s right, my toy. Just like I told you last night,” he purred, bending to suckle her breasts and lightly bite those rudeakseaks as he raised her legs over his shoulder for a deeper angle. Hermione’s back arched violently, as Draco raised her hips and buried himself to the hilt inside her with an upward stroke. She needed for him to use her, and to use her thoroughly.

He used his nails to trace patterns on her still stinging buttocks as he drew himself entirely free and roughly filled her with his entire length again. Carried away by the adrenaline in her system and the whirl of intense sensations, Hermione grasped his clenched ass to grind him deeper into her and cried out her encouragement. She felt unbelievably filled by him in this position, stretching her to the brink and spearing her to the core, and she wanted him to do it again and again, so that the glorious maelstrom raging inside her body would continue. She wanted him to nearly break her, as he rode her.

Draco groaned driving into her hard and deep, while she sobbed and inspired him to new heights to satisfy her hormone drugged system with a deep and brutal fucking. Her explosively tight sheath tensed with the every stab of his thick length as he cored her with the furious barrage of his hips, and he realized that if he didn’t hold back a little he would injure her while she was too far-gone to feel it. He felt like he was nearly splitting her in half in this position, and he knew that she must feel it with every stroke. Easing back slightly, Draco continued to marry his flesh with hers so that she shuddered and begged beneath him.

Hermione knew somewhere in the back of her mind that this pounding was on the verge of turning her into hamburger, but she wouldn’t have stopped it if she could. Even in her euphoric state, a distinct edge of sexual pain permeated the movements buter ter the earlier tortures of the evening she found a part of her enjoying its intensity.

Draco’s long fingers dipped between them and pinched her clitoris, rubbing her with a slow and steady movement. Hermione gasped, digging her nails further into his skin as her body exploded around him. She shut her eyes tightly whimpering and calling out to him unconsciously, as spots of colours erupted behind her eyes. Moments later he heaved his body out of her and showered her slick body with his own orgasmic fluids.

Draco rolled back onto his heels for a moment, taking in the site of Hermione Granger completely sexually spent and covered in his sticky semen. It was a sight that he wanted to commit to memory. It was a sight that he wanted replayed in this room for many nights to come. He crawled back up the length of Hermione’s body as she lay panting on the mattress, and he caught her lips in a lingering kiss.

As she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back contentedly, Draco allowed himself to relax against her warm body. They shared deep kisses, and Hermione ran her fingers through his silky hair and stroked his soft cheek beneath her fingers. They lingeringly explored each other in caresses as gentle as their first coupling had been brutal.

Hermione couldn’t think anymore, as urges and feelings that made no s whe when coupled with her opinion of Draco Malfoy welled up inside of her. She felt disconcertingly empty without him buried inside her, and her body was more than a little sore from his rough use, adding to the sensation. Now he was being more affectionate and tender than she’d ever felt any man be with her, and it was dizzying.

“We need to do something about this before the tangles become too difficult to work through,” Draco said in a languid drawl, as he ran his fingers through Hermione’s snarled and bushy hair. She cringed quietly, and withood-ood-natured laugh he kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll be very gentle,” he breathed against her cheek. He retrieved his wand from the nightstand and summoned a hairbrush from the vanity. Cradling Hermione against his warm body, he used the brush to gently work through the knots and snags in her brown mane.

Hermione cuddled against him, as he spoke soothingly and pampered her. Was this what it meant to be Draco Malfopet?pet? Her mind spun, and she couldn’t stop herself from responding to his attention. Despite his ruthless punishment earlier, Hermione felt completely safe nestled against him. She felt more alive than she ever had before in her life, as if freed by Draco’s unrelenting control over her. That wasn’t how she was supposed to feel, was it? He dominated her, hurt her, seduced her, and made her enjoy the awful twisted things that he did to her. She wondered how perverse she was to react this way to his degrading and debauched treatment of her.

“Hmmm…” Draco cooed against her ear. “You’re shoulders feel tense. Lay down and relax, while I massage your back,” he told her quietly, as he fetched a small bottle of scented oil that felt wonderfully warm when rubbed into her skin. Hermione lost herself in the pleasure of his tender attentions, unable to think any more for the night.

Author’s Note: I’d almost forgotten how dark this story is. Nipple clamps just aren’t the usual jewellehat hat Draco gives Hermione in fanfic, but with such a sinister and manipulative Draco and a secretly masochistic Hermione it is interesting to try to write--even if I do keep freaking myself out when writing this story. So what will Draco do next in his quest to possess Hermione and turn her into his love slave, and will she continue to struggle or begin to succumb to his plan? You can look forward to more of Draco’s dark side once I get myself psyched up to do the next chapter.