Sold

For the fifth time that week, Hermione felt an arm wind around her waist and pull her backwards into one of Filch’s many broom closets. She had been walking back from a prefect meeting that her (and here she cringed at the word) husband had attended, but left separately from. She had initially been relieved, but now she wished that he would have just thrown his horribly possessive arm over her shoulder and rushed her back to her room. She was adventurous and she loved spontaneity, but she didn’t love it from him. Right now the only thing she loved about him was that it was Friday night and Slytherin house was having a party in their common room for the first time since they’d been married and that meant she would get some much needed time to herself while he went out and drank and whored around. She would have liked to ask him if he could leave early. Draco was manic at times and if she wanted any alone time away from him, she preferred to ask when he wasn’t on an extreme high or low.

She couldn’t ask anything at the moment because a hand was covering her mouth whilst another was fiddling with the belt buckle of his pants. Despite her reluctance, her body had come to recognize these sounds as a prelude to intercourse and she became regrettably aroused. One of the few perks of her marriage was that Draco did in fact know what he was doing and knew how to pleasure a woman very well, when he wanted. Fortunately, this time he wanted to.

Replacing his hand with his lips, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and used his long fingers to play with her folds. When he found her to be wet, he smirked against her mouth, causing her to internally curse them both to hell; him for being a bastard and herself for being a weak, hormonal wreck. He finally shoved his cock into her and she had to suppress a noise of pleasure. They’d been married for almost two months and she should have stretched out enough by now that sex with him wasn’t painful, but she hadn’t. It still hurt just enough even if she was ‘ready’ that Hermione began to wonder about herself. She had discovered the exhibitionist part of herself with Ron, but was she also a masochist? Draco was definitely a sadist.

He currently had both her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her. She could tell that this would be one of those times in which her participation would make things go faster. She bucked her hips up against his pelvis and felt the rumble in his throat as he groaned at the contact. He pushed and pulled his cock in and out of her in a maddeningly methodical way, in a pace that was neither, frenzied nor slow. She worked herself against him, determined to get her own pleasure out of this. At least if she was able to have an orgasm, she didn’t feel as much like only a warm, wet hole, an object.

Draco was grunting with the exertion he was putting in to their tryst and she could feel him sweating under his school robes. He wanted to come and he apparently didn’t care if anyone passing in the hall heard their coupling. He moved her from one wall of the closet to the other, biting down on her neck enough to draw blood, making her cry out unexpectedly.

“I love it when you scream for me,” he growled.

Feeling dangerous and wanting to test a few limits, Hermione grabbed the back of his head by the hair and wrenched it backwards, exposing his pale neck, which she then sunk her own teeth into. She couldn’t bring herself to actually draw blood, but she did want to hurt him. It apparently did, but instead of making him angry, it made him even more turned on.

“Fuck, yeah,” he rumbled and sped up his forceful thrusts.

Hermione felt herself about to come, so she also moved her hips quicker and as she felt the now familiar sense of tightening in her body, Draco pulled her shirt up and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth like a vacuum and pinched her clit so that she came with a throaty scream. He laughed low in his throat, pleased that he got his desired reaction and with several final thrusts, he pushed himself in to the hilt and came inside her, drenching her with his cum.

Normally, when they were done, he would stay inside her a few moments and either lay there in sated bliss or remind her that she belonged to him and then laugh as she attempted to buck him off of her. This time, however, he merely zipped up his pants and grabbed her around the waist and swept her from the closet. They were both rumpled, sweaty, marked and Hermione could feel his seed slipping down her inner thigh because she no longer wore underwear. He liked telling people of the various parts of the school he’d had her in and the particulars, but he never liked showing physical signs of having just done it. She didn’t understand why he was being so careless, until they passed the statue of Sir Westmore and she understood it had all been a performance.

“Good God, Nott, are you really so pathetic that you’ve resorted to eavesdropping and peeping?” Draco asked. He had pulled her to him so that her breasts were pressed to the side of his chest and he pulled her slightly upwards so that she had to balance on him to avoid falling. As his gaze assessed Nott’s hunching form and what appeared (to Hermione’s great shock) to be hurt filled eyes, he slowly ran his hand lower to palm her ass cheek.

“At least I don’t have to drag a girl into a dark closet to get her to stomach shagging me,” he retorted.

“Oh, she had a lovely time, as I’m sure you could hear.” Draco said and then held her head in place as he kissed her.

“Did she? I was under the impression that your wife hated your spoiled, bratty guts and that you have to rape her just so you can have her,” Nott retorted.

“As you can see and I’m sure you just heard, I didn’t have to force anything. But if I wanted to, I could and she knows that, right darling?” Draco stroked the side of her face with one finger as he spoke to Nott. His eyes bore into hers and she gave a slight nod of her head. She knew quite well that he could force whatever he wanted on her and the direction of the conversation was making her shake with fear. The finger that had been drawing small lines on her cheeks, moved towards her mouth and lingered on the center of her full lower lip, pressing down slightly until she opened her mouth and it disappeared behind her lips.

Draco smiled and kissed her forehead. Theodore Nott made a disgusted sound in his throat and stomped off. Draco watched his retreating form with glee and Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. Why was Nott so fussed about how she was treated? He was never her friend and actually used to torment her in their earliest years at school. He himself had tried to drag her off for his own ends, so why would he care if Draco had to force himself on her.

Nearing their portrait she decided to ask. “Why does Nott care whether or not I’m willing?”

“He cares, because he, like most seventh year Slytherin boys have wanted you since fourth year. You are the best girl in Hogwarts not, just for your over active brains, but also for the fact that you are the most gorgeous.” It was the first true compliment he’d paid her and Hermione blushed and felt very uncomfortable. “They all want to pin you to the wall and shag you themselves, but they can’t because previously, you were unattainable and now you’re mine. You are the best and naturally, because I am a Malfoy, you belong to me.”

Deciding to let the topic drop, Hermione went to their bathroom and undressed before donning a terry bath robe. She started the bath water and remembered that she had forgotten the loofah she had purchased on their last trip to Hogsmeade to replace her old one. She stepped back in the room and saw Draco looking in her closet holding up her clothes in an appraising manner.

“If I were you I’d wear the blue one. Darker colors are more slimming,” she said in a bored tone. He turned and frowned at her attire.

“I thought I told you to get rid of that thing. Why are you wearing it?”

“I’m wearing it because I need to take a bath and cleanse myself of the scent of cleaning supplies and sex. I came back in here for the loofah.” Wanting to be rid of him as soon as possible, she strode across the plush carpet of her dorm to the bathroom.

“We don’t have time for you to take a bath. Just scourgify yourself and then get back in here. I want you to wear the black dress with the silver brooch tonight. Be sure to get rid of the marks on your neck and breast,” he instructed.

“Wear it where? Around the room?” She didn’t know if she could stomach role playing with him. The dress he was holding out and running his hands over was a very short, flirty cocktail dress with very thin straps attached to a plunging neckline. It definitely was not something to just sit around the house in.

“No, you’re going with me tonight. Now get out of that ratty thing and start getting ready. I need you to find my green shirt, I want to wear that one.” He looked at her calves poking out from under her robe and said, “I don’t know what shoes match this thing, but pick some with a heel and make sure we match. My mother always planned hers and my father’s attire and you’ll have to start doing the same thing.”

Hermione stared at the boy in front of her and wondered what had been done with the abusive, domineering man she’d been living with the past two months. She knew he liked to look good, but other than a trip to Hogsmeade, they’d never made a social appearance together and she was caught off guard by his involvement in her attire.

“I’m not going. You can go and you do whatever you like with whomever you want as long as you don’t bring home any diseases, but I’m taking a bath and staying right here.”

Draco grabbed her arm and yanked off the soft terry robe, leaving her naked. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at her and she felt the familiar stinging sensation of a scourgify spell and the slight burn that meant all of her bruises were healed. It didn’t matter, because they would be back by morning or the next day. He threw the dress at her and the brushed silk fluttered into her legs as the silver serpent brooch with the emerald eyes pinned to the center of the yoke hit her thigh. When the dress was on, the serpent rested between her cleavage, its weight drawing the already low-cut neckline into an even more indecent exposure of her assets. She glared at him defiantly and he jerked her towards him and slapped her on the ass, hard. He’d done worse, but the shock and the sting made her cry out.

“Why should I go to a party where everyone there will either hate me or want to use me like an object the way you do so that I can sit around, half-naked and watch you have it off with other women?”

“You’ll go,” he said, “because if you don’t, I’ll snap your precious little wand in half and send you home to wait until I graduate.” Hermione paled at his words. “You will also accept whatever advances I make towards you and you will reciprocate with your own and not allow some other girl to do what is your responsibility or I’ll revoke your right to wear clothing and you can spend the rest of this year naked, except when you’re in class.”

Swallowing, she got up and shimmied into the dress. She knew that he would make good on his threat. She’d already spent one weekend tied to the bed with no food and no way to clean herself up after each round of his use of her body. She was a good student and she learned fast. Pissing him off gained her nothing.

She turned to his closet and searched for the shirt he wanted. This was nothing new. Ever since they were married, he had her pick out his clothing and arrange it in the mornings, ironing it if necessary. She tied his school tie for him and removed the lint off his robes as if she were his valet. Once she found the shirt, she located his silver serpent cufflinks and found a pair of strappy stiletto sandals with a Grecian flare to them and put them on her feet. Hermione helped Draco into his shirt before going back to the bathroom to attempt to tame her hair into a French twist or something similar.

Draco followed her inside and started fussing with his own hair. He looked at her as she ran her brush through her curls and said, “Leave your hair down tonight.” Sighing, she obeyed and applied light make-up and a few dabs of her favorite perfume. Finally, she felt ready to go. Her long hair tumbled down her back in loose curls and the black dress hugged her body in the bodice before flowing free around her waist and thighs. She looked very pretty and very sexual without appearing cheap.

When Draco was finally done assessing his appearance, walked over to her and ran a hand through her curls while gazing at her with a half smirk on his face. She stared at the floor as he went to stand behind her, running his hands over her hips before they lay possessively on her stomach. He was looking at her in the mirror, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Suddenly his eyes narrowed.

“We’ve been fucking for over two months and haven’t used a contraceptive charm. Why aren’t you pregnant?”

“I’m on the potion,” she answered. Why did he care? He shouldn’t want any half-blooded Malfoys running around.

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because I don’t want to be pregnant this young. I’m not ready.” It was killing her to stand still this close to him. He was holding her the way that Ron used to and she felt like it was a mockery of the love she had lost.

“You’re going off,” he said and opened the cabinet next to the sink, finding her thirty day supply and before she could stop him, he poured it all down the sink. Turning to her, he drew his wand and said, “Fertilis.”

Feeling dread pool in her stomach, she looked at him and said, “Why? We aren’t ready to be parents! What could possibly make you want to do this?”

“The younger you are when you have children the better your body will recover. I’m not going to be married to a Molly Weasley for most of my life.” With that, he took her hand and half drug her down to the Slytherin dungeons.

Upon their arrivl, he shoved her behind a statue and pressed her up against the wall outside their portrait. “Remember what I told you,” he warned. He leaned over her so that his lips were a breath away from hers. “If you don’t want to be wandless or taken out of school, what do you have to do?”

Hermione brought her arms up around his neck and pressed her lips against his. He traced her lips with his tongue and she opened her mouth, letting him inside. He cupped her breast over her dress and she arched into him, pressing her soft mounds against his hand. “Good girl,” he murmured and then pulled her into the party.

Once inside, Hermione’s ears were assaulted with blaring techno music and the sounds of people talking and laughing. The common room was dimly lit and there were couples writhing against one another or snogging all over the place and a few had already moved on to more intimate activities right there in the room. Everyone was drinking. As Draco descended upon the room, everyone moved out of his way and a fourth year pressed a shot glass into his hand. He downed it and then gave the empty glass back to the younger student, guiding her to a corner in the back of the room that housed four large black leather arm chairs. He guided her to the chairs and sat down, forcing Hermione to sit on the arm rest. They were soon joined by Blaise and Goyle. Blaise was eyeing a Slytherin witch across the room who glanced appreciatively back at him as she moved her body in time to the music.

Goyle had walked in with a girl that Hermione recognized from Hufflepuff. The two of them had gotten married five days after Draco and Hermione. She was shocked to see him help her sit down and offer to get her something to drink. When he got back, he didn’t try to engage her in conversation, but he did remain by her side all evening. He spoke with Crabbe, who was oddly enough paired with Millicent Bulstrode and to Draco and Blaise, but he held his wife’s hand and whenever another Slytherin would pass by and sneer, he would stare them down if they so much as looked at her wrong. As for the girl herself, she seemed oddly comfortable with him and even referred to him as Greg. The two left the party early, leaving Hermione with no one to talk to.

As the evening wore on, the younger students left, leaving the older ones alone and the debauchery increased. Draco pulled her up and got her her own shot, which she downed and then she took his hand as he walked around the room. He stopped and spoke to several people all the while giving her more to drink. Eventually he pulled her to the floor where she obliged him by dancing with him. She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she moved and she knew it was because no one believed she could dance the way she could. Draco nibbled on her neck as she ground her hips against his and she tilted her head to give him better access as she reached behind her and threaded her fingers through his hair.

She could feel Blaise’s gaze on them and she saw Nott eyeing her with suspicion. More to get away from their disconcerting gazes than anything else, she turned around to face Draco and let his hands roam over her body as he pushed her back towards the wall. By now, everyone in the room was coupling or damn near close. She saw Pansy Parkinson and Zacharias Smith groping in a corner and Nott and Daphne Greengrass were pulling at each other’s clothes on a sofa. Even though they were with other girls, most Slytherin boys from her year kept their eyes on her.

Draco lifted her up against the wall and wrapped her legs around his waist. She looked into his eyes and saw possessive pride in them. He pulled one side of her dress down and suckled at her breast, causing her to shiver. Remembering her promise, she gripped his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair encouragingly. He lifted his head and began to kiss her as his hands fumbled with the thong he’d allowed her to wear that evening. Pushing the fabric string aside, he pumped his fingers in and out of her and she resonded by moving her hips. The alcohol she had consumed made her forget about the people watching. It was so dark that she doubted that anyone would be able to see clearly. He moved his fingers just so and she involuntarily let out a moan. She nibbled his ear and before she knew what was happening, he had his cock out of his pants and pressing up against her entrance.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m knocking you up,” he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait,” she mumbled. “Not here, please not here. Everyone is watching.”

“I know,” he grinned, showing his perfectly straight teeth. “Everyone else is also fucking.”

“Please, I don’t want to do this with them watching. It’s degrading.” She felt the head of his manhood slide in.

“What did you promise me, darling wife?” he asked as he sheathed himself within her. She didn’t respond, but merely gave a small moan of acceptance. He was right, everyone else in the room was fucking and the corner they were in was so dark, no one could see anything but their faces. Maybe no one would realize it. Draco started moving and so she did as well.

“I can’t wait for you to get pregnant. I can’t wait to see the looks on people’s faces,” he grunted. “If you do get pregnant tonight you’ll be showing by graduation. I’m going to work extra hard to make certain that happens,” he promised.

Hermione closed her eyes and felt his release on her insides. She wanted to cry. She wanted children, but she didn’t want them with him and what kind of memory was it to know that the conception of her first child happened in the Slytherin common room with six other fornicating couples around them? It was the kind of memory that a woman married to Draco Malfoy had.