Drabbles & Ficlets by Inell
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
40
Views:
26,386
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
40
Views:
26,386
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
His Prize: Hermione/Weasley Boy, NC17
Title: His Prize
Pairing: Hermione/Weasley Boy
Summary: She is his prize
Warning: Bloodplay, darkfic
Looking down at her tear-stained face, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Her hair fell past her shoulders, tangled and wild, her eyes glistening, her chin raised stubbornly even as she quivered with fear. His cock throbbed as he watched her, hard and ready, aching for her. “Beautiful,” he whispered lowly, barely loud enough for her to hear if she strained forward. Watching frustration flash across her lovely face before it was, once again, resigned and fearful. She did not beg, did not plead, did not offer anything in exchange for her life.
When he’d chosen Hermione Granger as his prize, a reward for service to his Lord, he’d known she’d fight. Her body, luscious curves he’d not realized existed on the figure of his baby brother’s bossy little friend, was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The pale light illuminated the deep purples and blues of the bruises marring her pale skin, brought out the red hues in the cuts that covered her stomach and legs, and caused the wetness of sweat and blood to shine.
For two weeks, she had fought with even more spirit and determination than he’d expected. When they had taken Hogwarts, destroying Potter and the majority of the Order, he’d received this reward from his Lord with the blood of his brothers still on his hands. The part of him that wasn’t realistic, that still wondered if he’d made the right decision by swearing allegiance to Voldemort once it was obvious the tide was turning, was pleased that his parents had been dead before they saw him standing over the body of his baby brother.
He’d had his choice of all the captive students and even a few living Order members, but he’d known who he wanted even before the fight had begun. After all, he’d wanted her from the time he caught her crying at Grimmauld Place following Sirius’ death. She’d smelled of jasmine and vanilla, the moon giving her an ethereal glow that had hypnotized him. From then on, he’d known she’d be his one day. It had taken him nearly two years, but, luckily, he was a patient man. Now she was his, and no one could take her away.
Straddling her nude body, he rubbed his cock between her breasts as he moved the blunt edge of the blade over her skin. “Such a brave little girl,” he complimented, feeling her tense beneath him even as she refused to show the fear that was so obvious with every breath and shudder of her body. Bringing the knife down, he dragged it across her collarbone, watching the blood slowly begin to spill.
She was one of the last of her friends alive. The others had been used and discarded within days, a few of the more fortunate securing positions as toys for high ranking members of his Lord’s army, but most as disposable as a chocolate frog wrapper. His prize would be more than a toy, though. She was brilliant, strong, and fascinating. Even as she fought him, he could see the truth in her eyes. She struggled, scratched, kicked, and screamed, but her nipples were hard, her body flushed, and she was always soaking wet by the time he slid into her tight cunt.
It wouldn’t take much longer, he knew. It had already started. She was intrigued by him, a Weasley that had secrets and was not at all predictable. His touch aroused her, excited her, and he’d not yet had to force himself on her. Even that first night, she’d willingly spread her legs and moaned and squeezed him so bloody tight, clenching and writhing, coming despite her shame of her body‘s reaction to him. The shame was fading with time, that evident when he caught her studying him with a curious gaze, when she bit her lip to keep from moaning, when she arched against him and whispered “more” in a soft voice hoarse from lack of use. Soon, she would no longer be kneeling at his feet; she would be standing at his side. He moved the knife across the swell of her breast, leaning his head down to inhale the scent of jasmine and vanilla, sweat and tears, blood and arousal.
Biting her neck as he thrust into her hard, he slid the knife down her arm, to the bare skin where she would eventually take the Mark, matching the one on his forearm. As he pounded into her, sending her body against the marble alter in which he’d placed her, he licked his way up her neck. She was so lucky that he’d wanted her, that his Lord had promised him first choice for gaining access to Hogwarts, that she would eventually accept that she was his. His voice was low and husky against her ear as he asked, “Are you finally ready to surrender to me, Hermione?”
The End
Pairing: Hermione/Weasley Boy
Summary: She is his prize
Warning: Bloodplay, darkfic
Looking down at her tear-stained face, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Her hair fell past her shoulders, tangled and wild, her eyes glistening, her chin raised stubbornly even as she quivered with fear. His cock throbbed as he watched her, hard and ready, aching for her. “Beautiful,” he whispered lowly, barely loud enough for her to hear if she strained forward. Watching frustration flash across her lovely face before it was, once again, resigned and fearful. She did not beg, did not plead, did not offer anything in exchange for her life.
When he’d chosen Hermione Granger as his prize, a reward for service to his Lord, he’d known she’d fight. Her body, luscious curves he’d not realized existed on the figure of his baby brother’s bossy little friend, was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The pale light illuminated the deep purples and blues of the bruises marring her pale skin, brought out the red hues in the cuts that covered her stomach and legs, and caused the wetness of sweat and blood to shine.
For two weeks, she had fought with even more spirit and determination than he’d expected. When they had taken Hogwarts, destroying Potter and the majority of the Order, he’d received this reward from his Lord with the blood of his brothers still on his hands. The part of him that wasn’t realistic, that still wondered if he’d made the right decision by swearing allegiance to Voldemort once it was obvious the tide was turning, was pleased that his parents had been dead before they saw him standing over the body of his baby brother.
He’d had his choice of all the captive students and even a few living Order members, but he’d known who he wanted even before the fight had begun. After all, he’d wanted her from the time he caught her crying at Grimmauld Place following Sirius’ death. She’d smelled of jasmine and vanilla, the moon giving her an ethereal glow that had hypnotized him. From then on, he’d known she’d be his one day. It had taken him nearly two years, but, luckily, he was a patient man. Now she was his, and no one could take her away.
Straddling her nude body, he rubbed his cock between her breasts as he moved the blunt edge of the blade over her skin. “Such a brave little girl,” he complimented, feeling her tense beneath him even as she refused to show the fear that was so obvious with every breath and shudder of her body. Bringing the knife down, he dragged it across her collarbone, watching the blood slowly begin to spill.
She was one of the last of her friends alive. The others had been used and discarded within days, a few of the more fortunate securing positions as toys for high ranking members of his Lord’s army, but most as disposable as a chocolate frog wrapper. His prize would be more than a toy, though. She was brilliant, strong, and fascinating. Even as she fought him, he could see the truth in her eyes. She struggled, scratched, kicked, and screamed, but her nipples were hard, her body flushed, and she was always soaking wet by the time he slid into her tight cunt.
It wouldn’t take much longer, he knew. It had already started. She was intrigued by him, a Weasley that had secrets and was not at all predictable. His touch aroused her, excited her, and he’d not yet had to force himself on her. Even that first night, she’d willingly spread her legs and moaned and squeezed him so bloody tight, clenching and writhing, coming despite her shame of her body‘s reaction to him. The shame was fading with time, that evident when he caught her studying him with a curious gaze, when she bit her lip to keep from moaning, when she arched against him and whispered “more” in a soft voice hoarse from lack of use. Soon, she would no longer be kneeling at his feet; she would be standing at his side. He moved the knife across the swell of her breast, leaning his head down to inhale the scent of jasmine and vanilla, sweat and tears, blood and arousal.
Biting her neck as he thrust into her hard, he slid the knife down her arm, to the bare skin where she would eventually take the Mark, matching the one on his forearm. As he pounded into her, sending her body against the marble alter in which he’d placed her, he licked his way up her neck. She was so lucky that he’d wanted her, that his Lord had promised him first choice for gaining access to Hogwarts, that she would eventually accept that she was his. His voice was low and husky against her ear as he asked, “Are you finally ready to surrender to me, Hermione?”
The End