Breaking the rules

AN- This chapter contains a near rape, but only by means of deception and it's interrupted. If that bothers you, please skip this chapter!

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Flashback: Hermione's POV

Hermione wasn't sure what woke her until she looked around the dimly lit room and found Harry leaning against the door, watching her with a faint smirk on his lips. "I'd think your instincts would be a bit sharper after running from Death Eaters for almost a year," he murmured sarcastically. 

Glancing at her watch, Hermione groaned, "Harry, we've only been asleep for a few hours. What are you doing up? Come back to bed..." she patted the pillow beside her and rolled onto her stomach, prepared to go back to sleep.

"If you insist," Harry chuckled darkly. The edge of the bed sank under his weight a moment later, then he pulled the covers back. 

Having wiggled out of her jacket and sweatshirt sometime while she slept, the room's cool air made Hermione shiver. "Harry, quite screwing around, I'm cold!" She complained, flipping onto her back and reaching down to try to pull the blankets over herself.

"You're not that cold yet," Harry chuckled quietly. Pulling the covers even further down, he abruptly slid his hands up under her thin t-shirt, grabbed both of her breasts and squeezed hard enough to make her yelp. "These aren't cold," he observed, smirking slightly. 

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. "That hurt! You can't just go grabbing at them like that."

"Why not?" He asked, "I'm Harry Potter," he added a bit cockily, "I can do whatever I want.

Hermione sat up a bit, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she studied him warily. "I think you need more sleep, Harry," she mumbled, patting the pillow beside her invitingly.

"I have better things to do," Harry smirked. "More entertaining, anyway," he corrected himself, the smirk turning into a leering grin. "Take off your clothes," he ordered suddenly, his expression going completely serious. 

Hermione blinked, then scowled. "I don't know what's gotten into you..."

"The same thing that's about to get into you," he murmured, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hermione stared at him a moment, then snorted with laughter. "You're terrible."

"I've never had any complaints before," he shrugged. Reaching for the button on her jeans, he pouted exaggeratedly, "Come on, Hermione..."

"Fine," Hermione blushed slightly as he watched her remove her jeans and t-shirt, keeping her bra and knickers in place for the time being.

"Everything," Harry ordered huskily. His pupils were so dilated that only the faintest bit of green remained, and Hermione's stomach fluttered nervously. 

"You're overdressed now," she pointed out, tugging playfully on the collar of his t-shirt. "I think it's your turn," she added challengingly. 

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged somewhat dismissively and pulled the shirt off over his head. Standing up, he quickly undid the fastenings on his jeans and slid them down, along with his boxers. 

Hermione froze, staring at his (in her admittedly limited experience) rather large erection. "Merlin..." she mumbled dazedly, unconsciously licking her lips.

Harry raised an eyebrow, then glanced down. "Whoa!" He muttered quietly. Hermione frowned. Clearing his throat he muttered something else under his breath, then smiled tightly. "Uh...it really likes you?" The uncertainty in his voice was unmistakable. 

"Um...it's...uh...not usually that...uh...big?" Hermione asked confusedly.

"Of course it is," Harry muttered, seeming almost annoyed for some reason. Shaking his head dismissively, he gestured at her bra, "Your turn," he said gruffly.

Nodding nervously, Hermione reached behind her back and unhooked it with slightly trembling hands. As it fell away, she glanced anxiously at Harry's face. He seemed more interested in the scar across her left collarbone than he was in her breasts; even going so far as to reach out and run his right forefinger over it. "It's ugly," Hermione mumbled self consciously.

"It's rather impressive," Harry murmured, smiling mysteriously. After staring at it for several more seconds, he blinked and shifted his attention back to her face. Leering at her in a rather predatory manner, he knelt on the bed and slowly crawled on top of her. Hooking his thumbs in the side of her knickers, he slowly pulled them down, awkwardly using his foot to push them off over her feet.

When he shifted to kneel between her legs, Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Um...contraception spell," she squeaked when he positioned himself at her entrance with no apparent interest in foreplay of any kind. She was torn between years of wanting him and wanting to slap him for how inconsiderate he was being, but she chalked it up to nerves and lack of sleep and decided to let it go.

Sighing irritably, he muttered, "Fine. Where'd I put my wand?"

Hermione started to tell him to just use hers, but a quick glance at the nightstand revealed that it was no longer there. "Um...in my bag..." she said distractedly, pointing toward the foot of the bed. While he moved to retrieve it, she leaned over the side of the bed, hunting for her own.

"I don't see it," Harry complained as she peeked under the bed.

Pulling herself upright, she was about to suggest he try summoning it when she noticed that his wand was sitting on top of several other items he'd pulled out of the bag. "Um...it's right under your nose," she said slowly, staring at him curiously. 

Harry glanced blankly at the wand in front of him. "No...I mean MY wand."


"That IS your wand," Hermione's heart began to race as he shook his head stubbornly. 

"No, the Elder wand," he muttered irritability, still rooting around in her bag.

Hermione's heart sank as his strange behavior suddenly made horrible sense. "Who are you? Where's Harry?" She asked, looking around frantically for her own wand and wondering if she could reach Harry's before his imposter. 

The man stopped searching the bag and looked up at her, his eyes hard. "Don't tell me he got rid of it?" he asked in disbelief as he picked up the holly wand. So much for that.

"Who are you?!" Hermione demanded angrily. Realizing she was still naked, she grabbed a pillow and held it in front of her, eyeing the door in hopes of making a break for it.

Smirking, the fake Harry murmured something under his breath and his features immediately began to shift. Within seconds Hermione found herself staring up at the terrifyingly familiar, dark stubbled face of the Death Eater who had frequently haunted her nightmares since the spring of her fifth year at Hogwarts. The scar he'd left on her chest at the Ministry throbbed painfully as Antonin Dolohov leered down at her. "No..." She whimpered fearfully. "No. How did you get in here? W-where's Harry?"

"Aw, I already played with young Harry," he winked mockingly, "Now it's time to finish what I started with you so long ago, Mudblood," he chuckled, crawling back up the bed and pinning her legs. Hermione screamed and tried to get her knees up, tried to kick him off her, but he held her legs down easily and silenced her with a wave of Harry's wand. Grinning maniacally, he reached into the pocket of the jeans he'd been wearing and pulled out an ornate knife with a thin, curving blade. It was covered in partially dried blood and her eyes filling with tears at the thought that it might be Harry's. "Don't cry yet, we haven't even gotten started!" Dolohov laughed scornfully. "Harry didn't cry. Even Draco didn't cry until I scalped the little fucker." 

"No..." HER stared at the bloody blade. "Why would you attack Malfoy?" she asked, just to keep him talking. If he had gotten into the tower someone else was bound to sooner or later.

Grinning wickedly, Dolohov reached into his discarded jeans again. This time he pulled out a fistful of familiar platinum blond hair. When he waved it in her direction triumphantly a few drops of blood flew into her face from a flap of skin dangling from one end. Hermione very nearly vomited. "Pretty boy isn't so pretty now..." Dolohov cackled gleefully. Tossing his gruesome souvenir over his shoulder, he raised the blade again. "Your turn." Hermione stared at the knife in horror as he moved it closer to her face. Trailing it along her hairline, he whispered, "What do you think? Should I give you a haircut too? I'd be doing you a favor getting rid of that mess."

"No!" Hermione shook her head frantically, and felt the blade nick her temple. 

Dolohov tsk'd disapprovingly. "See what you made me do? Now you're dead." Holding the knife inches from her face, he showed her the drop of fresh blood at the tip of the blade and grinned. "This blade is cursed. Anyone cut by it, even the slightest nick, dies a long, painful death. Can you feel it in your veins? The burning? I wonder if your muddy blood will slow it down any?" He tilted his head to one side in mock thoughtfulness. "I doubt it. I think you'll be dead in a few hours. That's all it takes. Especially if the cut is close to your heart, like this..." he jerked the pillow from her arms and pressed the knife to her left breast, making a shallow cut just below the scar he'd already given her. "Oops. You've only got about half an hour now..."

Hermione fought back tears. She knew instinctively from the growing burning sensation in her head and chest that he wasn't lying. Dolohov sat back and smirked while she struggled not to react as the pain became overwhelming. Soon, she broke into silent sobs, and then anguished screams. She couldn't help it...it felt like the flesh was being ripped from her head and torso and the pain grew more unbearable by the second. After a few minutes she was reduced to thrashing violently on the bed and clawing at her own chest in a futile attempt to dig out the magic causing her suffering. 

Suddenly, she felt a stabbing pain deep in her chest and looked down, expecting to see the hilt of the knife protruding from her flesh. Dolohov laughed, the sound seeming to come from much farther away than it should. He was sitting beside her on the bed, watching her avidly. She noticed dazedly that he was dressed again. "Ah...it's reached your heart, I think," he announced excitedly. Patting her mockingly on the head, he said, "So long, Mudblood. Say hello to your little boyfriend in Hell. He should be arriving there any time now."

Hermione gasped for breath, but couldn't seem to take in any air around the knot of pain in her chest. The edges of her vision began to grow dark, and the room slowly faded away. The last thing she heard was Dolohov laughing hysterically, and then the world went black.

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Yes, he's quite obviously not Harry, but he's supposed to be obvious. We already know that it's not Harry. Hermione doesn't and she just woke up so I figured it would take her a bit to catch on