The Fine Art Of Silk And Razors

The Fine Art Of Silk And Razors

Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Hermione/Ginny, Harry/Draco

Chapter One: Fragile

“If blood will flow when fresh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow\'s rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay…”
-Fragile, Sting

It was just past midnight. Sitting on his bed, shrouded by ruby curtains, Harry Potter looked down at his pale arms. Scars criss-crossed from his wrists to the inside of his elbow. But even in the light, they were almost invisible. He sighed, memories of when he started destroying himself rising to the top of his thoughts. It had been the night Draco had broken up with him to go court the pureblood bride Lucius had chosen for him.

Shaking his head, Harry picked up the razor he had kept hidden for weeks and placed the blade right on the vein. He knew he could kill himself, right here and right now. But he was supposed to be the savior of the Light, the Boy Who Lived. He couldn’t let them down, could he? Harry laughed bitterly. He could let them down; he just couldn’t let Hermione down.

Ron had hurt her during their relationship, but more than that, he’d changed her. A silent, intimidating creature had emerged from the abused shell. He remembered a month ago where she had scared him by revealing what she had become. He had walked into the common room around 2 AM after sneaking outside to look at the stars, but quickly left when he saw Draco and his new lover. Seeing no one, he sat down and stared into the fire.

“Why are you hurting yourself, Harry?”

Startled, he whirled around and saw Hermione sitting in the chair opposite him, turned just enough to give the illusion of solitude. His jaw dropped a little as he took in her appearance. She was clad in tight black leather pants and a dark T-shirt. A plain leather collar was clasped around her neck with a nameplate that read ‘Sadist’ in silver cursive letters. Her brown hair had been straightened and almost fell to her waist. A pair of leather boots with a thick two-inch heel and lacing up the back completed her outfit. As always a book was in her hands, this one with a white cover and a black border. She put it in her lap before he could see the title.

“Hermione?”

Her gaze was pleasantly neutral, like a jaguar that’s happy to see you. “Answer the question.”

“I…” Harry bit his lip. “Since Draco left me for some pureblood tart a month ago, I started doing this.” He pulled up his sleeve and showed her the scars, proving the reason for her concern. “It used to just be a compulsion every once and a while, now it’s an addiction.”

She shook her head. “Scars can be beautiful things, Harry. Don’t desecrate your body like this. Something else can be done to help you.” The icy calm of her voice made him shiver in both incomprehension and a hint of shock at her outfit.

But Harry lashed out at her, standing up from the chair, angry about how she was taking this, like she was a therapist and he was the man in the strait jacket. “What, am I supposed to tell the Headmaster about all this? You’re looking at me like I’m part of a fucking experiment or something!”

Hermione snapped her book shut and stood up. He was able to glance at the title: Miss Abernathy’s Concise Slave Training Manual. “And what the hell is this all about?” He gestured to her clothing.

“Sit down, Harry.”

“Why should-”

“Sit. Down. Now.”

With fire burning in his eyes at he glared at her, Harry sat down and she began to pace in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind her back. Hermione sighed, and started to speak.

“After…Ron and I went our separate ways, I fell into madness.” She laughed softly. “I couldn’t find anything to hold onto, even you, because I knew about the razor you kept hidden in your bed. So I read, as I always do. I ordered illicit novels and tales of cruelty to find a suffering that would match my own. Instead, to my disgust, I found pleasure in other’s pain. It aroused me to no end to see another in servitude.”

She paused, looking at Harry and weighing his reaction. A tinge of fear as well as some disgust filtered through his gaze, but she continued none the less. “To find some way to release this beast, so I found magazines and books on the subject. Most people hear the word bondage and think a geekish Muggle in Amsterdam being whipped by some anonymous blonde dominatrix.” Hermione couldn’t hide her smile at this thought.

“It is nothing of the sort. This art has been around for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. It is almost a religion of sorts, with disciplines and priests. We need no holy book for worship, merely tools of pain and pleasure.”

Harry interrupted her with a noise of skepticism and the look in her cinnamon eyes chilled his blood. “During the summer, I traveled, learning more about this. I found gods and novices, masters and slaves, who had escaped the suffering of their day to day lives through this underground world of forbidden acts. The bond with their submissive gave them a new life. I wanted that so badly. And finally I found it in the most unexpected place.”

She gestured around the room. “Here. In Gryffindor, of all places. Some one who loved me and my passion.” As Hermione finished her sentence, the door to the common room swung open and slammed shut. Ron Weasley sneered at Hermione when she came into his view. “What the hell are you doing? Now that I’m not with you, you’re going to shag Harry?” He laughed. “Pathetic bitch.”

With an ice cold stare, Hermione walked towards him and viciously backhanded her ex-boyfriend. Then she wrinkled her noise. “You worthless bastard, you’re drunk again. I can smell the stench of it on your breath. And by the way, in case you didn’t know, I am not into men. But I have had some fun with your sister.”

It took a moment for Ron to comprehend her last words, and rage filled his face, turning his ears as red as his hair. “What the bloody fuck are you talking about?” His hands clenched into fists and he looked like he was about to slug her. “Oh yeah,” The girl purred, looking him right in the eyes. “She and I have a lot of fun together up in the dormitory. Her on her knees, a collar around her throat. She does whatever I tell her to, and likes it.”

He threw a punch to her face, and she ducked and slammed her fist right into his groin. A gasp of pain escaped Ron as he doubled over, Hermione’s laughter echoing in his still-red ears. “You little fucking leather whore! I should have fucked you while I had the chance, and maybe give you a taste for a real man.”

Enraged, she grabbed him by the throat and dug her nails deep into his skin, causing the drunken wizard to choke for air. “You tried to rape me after you had beaten me into the floor. I fought back. If I had reported you, you would have been expelled. But your sister begged me to spare you, so I did. And became what I am now. Stronger than you will ever be. You can’t break what’s already shattered, Ron, though I know I’d find great joy in snapping you in half over my knee.”

She let him go, and Harry saw blood trickling down his neck from the nail marks Hermione had left him. Grabbing her book, she went up the stairs to the girl’s dormitory, almost breaking the door as it slammed behind her. Harry looked at his old friend, who had murder in his eyes. “Go to bed, Ron. The last thing any of us need tonight is another argument.”

Closing his green eyes for a moment, Harry turned and went quietly upstairs.

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