Deliciously So... (Editing)

Prisoner.

“I am too frightened to open the door
I can’t stop shaking as I drop to the floor
My hands, unfaithful, did not protect me
My voice, transparent, when I needed to scream
What really happened during those nights?
I could not move so I just turned off inside”
Fear, Switchblade Symphony

“Happy birthday, Miss Granger.”

She did not need to turn around to know that she was in the room with Lucius Malfoy. She did not need to see his cold, grey eyes to know he had brought her there, and she certainly did not need to see the satisfied smirk on his pale lips to know that he was going to do her harm.

“Eighteen today. A very special occasion.” He bowed his head for a moment, his blonde hair falling down his shoulders. He added softly, “We must celebrate accordingly.”

She tried in vain to Disapparate, but he obviously had wards over the mansion preventing this. She drew her wand, but before she could so much as point it at him, he had disarmed her, sending her wand flying out of her hand to land somewhere across the room.

“Why, Miss Granger, you hurt my feelings. And here I was convinced you liked my gift,” he said, looking down at the rose she still had clutched in her hand.

“How could you know where we were?” she asked, speaking for the first time.

“Ah, at last you speak. Well, after our previous encounter, you had left some drops of blood on my robes. Though my initial thought was to destroy the ruined garments, I decided to keep them; for as young Mister Potter knows, the blood of one’s enemy is always very valuable. I was able to use it, minute a quantity it was, for a rather interesting spell to locate you. I merely had to order a house-elf to place the Portkey on your bed, and the deed was done.”

He smiled pleasantly, waiting for a reaction, but she remained silent, the seriousness of her situation weighing down on her – she didn’t know where she was, she potentially could not leave, and she had no means of contacting Ron or Harry since Lucius had divested her of her wand. She was once again at the mercy of a Death Eater.

“You know,” he continued silkily. “You should be honoured that I have found time for you. I have been so busy recently, even had to call on the Muggle Prime Minister. He was such a nervous man, possibly he was under a lot of strain because of his job.”

“Murderer,” she whispered, barely audible. But he had understood: he had seen her lips moving, forming a voiceless accusation.

Smirking, he replied coldly, “I would not go so far as to call it ‘murder’: it is more a form of liberation. Muggles and their like will be purged in the same way one would disinfect a wound. Soon the whole world will be free of them. Though the Minister did prove to be useful in the end: I can now say I am back in the Dark Lord’s good graces, all thanks to him.”

She listened to him in disbelief as he talked so effortlessly of murder: the lives of his victims had no value, and he had no guilt. His face was relaxed, untouched by feeling, making him look inhuman. That frightened her even more.

“Now, coming back to us,” he hissed, eyes locked on hers.

She started to back away, her eyes continually scanned the space around her, searching for a way to escape, lips moving in silent prayer.

He was slowly moving closer, his steely orbs alight with malice, a cruel smile curving his mouth.

She was looking at him as one would do a wolf on the hunt, circling its prey and enjoying every moment of the animal’s terror.

He was only a foot away now. With one quick step, he took her face in his hands and licked her lips. “I am going to possess you,” he whispered near her ear.

His words made her spiral into fear, making her whole being shudder. Panic clenched her heart, and loosing all rational thought, she slapped him across the face, leaving a red imprint of her hand on his pale skin. She pushed away and ran to the solitary door. Grasping the handle, she tried to open it, but found it, unsurprisingly, locked. She threw herself against the wooden frame with all her might, but she lacked the strength to unhinge the heavy door.

She could hear him walking steadily towards her.

“You have nowhere to run, Miss Granger,” he purred.

“No!” Turning to her left, she found a vase on a pedestal. Desperately, she threw it at the wizard. He repelled it with ease; no sooner had it shattered on the floor than he had reached her and grabbed her by the wrists.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, digging her nails into the flesh of his hands. He inhaled sharply, but his grip only tightened. “Let go!” she screamed again, voice breaking with sobs.

“So much vain resistance; you must have realised your fate has been sealed.” he said as the struggling girl tried to kick him. “Obviously not.” He added, pulling out his wand and whispering, “Extenuo.”

She was enveloped by a lilac light, draining her of all her strength. Head reeling, she barely realised her legs had given way under her; instead she was held up by the strong grasp of her attacker.

“I doubt you have ever heard of this spell; am I correct?” he said as he encircled her waist with one arm. Lifting her head with his other hand, he stared into her eyes, liking what he saw there. The look in her chestnut eyes was one of pure terror, silent tears creeping down her cheeks. She looked as if she accepted the hopelessness of her predicament – it excited him how the loss of hope painted her face with despair!

He placed a gentle finger on her trembling lips, moving it softly to her cheek where her pearly tears were leaving wet trails on her skin. Catching one tear on his fingertip, he placed it in his mouth, sucking it lightly, tasting her anguish. Then, as if having suddenly awakened from a trance, he crushed her body to his and her lips with his own. When she would not open her mouth, he bit her bottom lip sharply. When she let out a whimper of pain, he pushed his tongue in to explore her mouth.

Still holding her trembling body with his left arm, he started to remove her clothing. Her hands, which had until then remained at her sides, tried to push him away, but she was far too weak.

Momentarily interrupting his possession, he picked the crying girl up in his arms and carried her over to the bed where he dropped her unceremoniously. His hands, now free of the burden of sustaining her deadweight, busied themselves in removing her clothing. When she wore nothing more than her underwear, he proceeded to take his own shirt off, revealing his well-toned chest and arms. Sitting down on the bed, he kicked off his boots and removed his socks. Letting out a sigh, he turned to the girl, who whimpered when she saw his eyes aflame with unremitting lust.

“I told you, Miss Granger, that we would meet again,” he said silkily as he crawled over to her, reinforcing her earlier images of a hungry wolf. “I told you that you would pay for what you had done,” he continued as he ripped away her lacy bra. Using his tongue, he licked from her collarbone to her navel, leaving behind a wet trail. “And I always keep my promises.” He took hold of one of her breasts. Touching it fervently, he licked the nipple, biting and pinching it.

Her mind, her soul, her whole being was screaming in despair. She knew how futile struggling would be, and she knew she could not prevent his violation. Ever since his failed attempt weeks ago, an impending sense of doom had haunted her; but she had not been able to do anything to prevent this from happening. Now she lay there paralysed, unwilling to let any of her distress show, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction.

“Miss Granger, you disappoint me: as I recall, you were a lot more responsive in Flourish and Blotts.”

“Stop it.” she said coldly. “Does it make you feel powerful, to have me at your mercy? Does it give you satisfaction, you twisted bastard?”

“Language, Mudblood,” he chided, grasping her jaw roughly. “Must I silence you as well? I hope not: I want to hear you begging for mercy. I want to hear your screams.”

After capturing her lips once again in a hungry kiss, he moved to her neck where he bit her hard, drawing blood. Sucking the wound, he moved lower to her thighs. “So who has already had you? Potter? One of the Weasleys? To whom exactly did you give your virginity?”

She was still crying, but the weight of his words struck her. She wouldn’t be able to experience her first time with Ron. She would probably not live to see him again.

“Am I to imagine that you are a virgin? You have obviously had your nose in books for far too long, but I see no reason to complain.” As he removed her knickers, he added, “It will be much more fun to break you.”

Unzipping his trousers and pulling them down, along with his black, silk boxers, he kneeled before her as naked as she was. Gazing at his hard length, she shuddered at the thought of how much he would hurt upon entering her.

But he did not take her straightaway; instead, he bent his head between her legs, breathing on her womanhood. Parting her labia with his index finger and thumb, he started to languidly stroke her with his tongue.

Hermione wanted to vomit as the hateful man licked at her entrance. She had always imagined her first sexual encounter to be with someone she deeply cared for. This isn’t how it was meant to be!

But now, despite herself, she was beginning to feel a strange sensation, starting from her stomach, spreading to the rest of her body. Odd warmth was stemming from her core and sending wave upon wave of heat, growing in intensity, outwards to the rest of her.

“Stop! Stop!” She cried, as he began to suck on her clitoris, eliciting a small moan to escape her lips. What was he doing to her? How could her body react to him?

He heard her moan, and a satisfied smirk broke out on his face. At last she will be mine! I have spent two weeks being haunted by her! Visions of her tormenting me day and night, and I now she will pay!

He continued his attack to her clit, licking and sucking it relentlessly. Ever more moans escaped her lips as she began to wriggle, trying lethargically to escape his tongue. The more her body responded to his ministrations, the emptier she felt. He was stealing her soul.

After minutes of suffering under his assault, she came. Her first orgasm. Her body trembled and shook as she panted, finding herself out of breath.

Lucius licked up her juices avidly. Then placing his manhood at her entrance, he started to push inside her, gasping at her tightness.

Hermione was crying again. He’s trying to split me in two… There is no way in Hades he’s going to get that thing in me! “Stop! You’re killing me!” she wailed as she felt her channel stretching painfully.

He felt her virginal barrier, and after pulling his erection almost out of her, he thrust back in with force, breaking her completely.

Hermione let out a piercing scream.

“Keep quiet, Mudblood… ” he growled, burying himself in her completely. “Be thankful… I made you… come first… otherwise you… would find this… even more painful…” he grunted as he thrust in and out.

He revelled in her tightness, basking in the feeling of finally having her at his mercy after weeks of torture. He had not seized her because he thought her attractive or because he wanted her. His reason for kidnapping her was completely different: he wanted to take her, so that she would no longer trouble his dreams. It had been hell for him, pure hell, imagining her writhing underneath him every five minutes, imagining her sucking him every time he closed his eyes. And now, at last, he was able to rid himself of this ridiculous obsession.

He continued to thrust his entire length into her core, her screaming the whole while, exciting him even more. He covered her mouth with his, taking her in a vicious kiss. He gripped her fiercely around the thighs and lifted her so he could penetrate her more fully.

He kept pounding into her until he felt his balls tighten; then, removing himself from her, he squeezed his throbbing cock in his hand and came all over her.

Panting, he collapsed next to her. She just lay there, tears still running down her cheeks, eyes fixed on the ceiling, before she lost consciousness.

He climbed off of bed and collected his wand before turning around to face her. There she lay, her cheeks stained with tears, blood flowing from her core and neck. She had bruises on her thighs where he had held her, her lips were swollen and her long-brown hair was fanned out underneath her. He had taken her, used her, and now he could kill her. She had served her purpose and should be disposed of.

Pointing his wand at her, he cocked his head to one side. True, he had had her, but he did not feel at all satisfied. It mystified him: he had wanted to have her and he’d just done so. What more could he want?

A voice in his head answered him softly, But you wanted her to want it too, didn’t you?

“I have had my share of sex. This Mudblood means nothing to me.”

Then why do you want to have her again? Why do you not feel sated? You want her to writhe beneath you. You want her to do it of her own free will—

“I want nothing of the sort!”

You can try to hide the truth. But you would only be lying to yourself.

“What I want is to be done with her! I will kill her now!”

Go ahead,

He pointed his wand at her. It would mean nothing to him, nothing! “Avada Keda—” but he stopped before finishing the curse. Maybe the inner voice was right. He would have to find out. Pointing his wand at his own body, he cleaned himself and got dressed. He picked up her wand from the floor before walking through the door.

“THERE YOU ARE!” an angry voice shouted from behind him.

“Severus, how may I help you?”

“What the hell have you been doing in there? I heard screams!”

“Oh, that was my new toy. I was just trying her out. Severus, would you mind terribly if I asked a favour of you? I think she may need fixing.”

“Fixing?”

“It was her first time, and I might have been a tad overzealous,” he smirked.

“Very well.”

“Oh, and, Severus… after fixing her, you can play with her too.”

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Author’s Note: Extenuo is Latin and can be roughly translated as “to weaken”.