That Which Disturbs Your Soul You Must Not Suffer

("Those fucking insane Muggles really think we are house-elves or something? Beats me." -Draco)


That Which Disturbs Your Soul You Must Not Suffer


Draco Malfoy is furious. Well, to be honest he is now more on the verge of berserker rage, grasping his wand with his left hand, shaking with almost uncontrollable vengeful hatred that is flooding through the platinum-blonde androgynous Pureblood's whole being. And, as they sometimes say, hate may be born from...

(That fucking Mudblood bitch hit me! In front of Crabbe and Goyle and fucking Potter and fucking Weasel! They saw the whole thing happening, damn it to motherfucking Hell. And I... I...)
Draco bites his lower lip, trying to get himself in control again. He is a Malfoy, after all.
(Despite the fact that truth really hurts, I have to say it. Say it to get over it. Get over it because...)
(I.. I was afraid. Too fucking afraid to punch her back so hard that they would be searching her fucking over-large teeth all around the fucking Hogsmeade!)

The pain from that blow is not much anything, neither the bruise on Draco's beautiful face. Nothing a little healing potion from Professor Snape can't remove in an instant. But the shame... the shame is burning agony. And there are no potions, nor spells to remove that. But then again, there are other things.

Draco does not want to go and see Severus Snape. Draco does not want Severus Snape to see him, not while he is reduced to this state. Draco does not want to drink a healing potion (though he carries a very efficient one in his bag, just in case). At least not for now, because healing the unimportant wounds would only make the real wound a slowly rotting abomination beneath a false surface. And, while it is not unknown for a Malfoy to have things some improper people would call "rotten abominations" beneath false surfaces, those are of their own choosing.

Instead, Draco skips his next Ancient Runes lesson. Knowledge is important, as the Pureblood boy has learned. And Draco has learned quite a lot of knowledge. At Hogwarts, of course, but much more from his beloved father. Still, there are times when other things are more important. A fact Draco has not learnt from any of his Professors but definitely from Lucius Malfoy.

Therefore Draco is now hiding in a rather convenient corner hidden behind an illusion at the Northern Tower of Hogwarts. He's sitting rather comfortably on the floor, waiting for the Divination lesson to end. Not waiting impatiently as Draco, somewhat spoiled by her mother, usually does. Not the least impatient now, instead waiting and smiling. Waiting for other things.

(Divination. Why the fuck? Both Lucius and Severus instructed me not to choose that subject as it is a very uncertain form of magic and so, usually pretty much useless. Okay, there are worse things like the fucking disgusting Muggle Studies but... Luckily Mudblood Granger will probably be the last student leaving the classroom after that damn stupid lesson because that fucking desperately-in-need-of-knowing-it-all bitch is probably rimming her Professor's arse to get better marks.)

Draco has and always has had, a rather vivid imagination. Despite the fact that the image of Granger's tongue buried deep inside Professor Trelawney's rectum is as far from being beautiful as a Blood-Traitor witch during childbirth, the silvery-blonde Slytherin finds himself getting slightly aroused. No surprise there, because only a fool would think lust is born just from adoration. Draco has never considered Hermione particularly attractive and... well, he would consider a Dementor attractive compared to this image of Sibylla Trelawney's sphincter.

Surprise over there instead, as someone opens the hatch on the roof, crawls through the hole, slams the door shut and starts to descend the ladder. During the lesson. Even more surprise as that someone is Hermione Granger, looking just as furious as when she slapped Draco, her white panties now being clearly visible from under her skirt. As clearly as Draco's erection through his black, snake-embroidered silk trousers.

(By Salazar, innocence mixed with that "righteous Gryffindor anger" sure works like some of Father's lust potions. Then again, those potions tend to last much longer than your innocence will, Granger.)

Hermione, driven on the verge of her mental stamina because of too much studying, is not paying the slightest attention to things around her. Things including a softly uttered and well-aimed "Silencio" rendering her speechless and, therefore, unable to protect herself with magic. Things including Draco Malfoy's right fist contracting her face and breaking her nose. Twice.

Then there is searing pain like hellish bright light and complete darkness merged together, blood and snot and tears flow down Hermione's face and her eyesight returns but her voice does not and Malfoy's grey eyes shine with disgusting predatory lust and Hermione's fingernails try to reach and tear away those terrible eyes and Draco sniggers softly as he punches the Muggle-born girl's stomach. Really hard.

(I'd fucking better get her out of sight. Most of the possible audience would not be pleased.)

Hands tugging violently at her hair and still she tries to scream but no voices come out. Her body is dragged into some little room that has never been there and the pale, angular face smirks like an incubus and equally pale nimble hands start to tear her knickers down and she tries to resist and fight back but everything hurts too much and now her legs are spread open and there are two fingers inside her and then there are no fingers and now the sneering incubus thrusts his cock inside again and again and there is more blood blood everywhere-

"Jesus fucking ...Necrochrist. I... ahh... never thought it would be... that easy. But then again... I should have known how much you... would like to clean.. yess... clean your filthy little Mudblood cunt with my Pureblood semen.So sorry I had to hurt you, but you... ah.. you could have asked nicely."

The words ...or possibly just the sheer malice in Draco's voice, manage to somehow bring Hermione back from her shocked state. (The face or the fingers or the prick is not an incubus, it's Malfoy. But I still can't speak and my legs are spread and ...Merlin! Draco Malfoy is going to rape me! Actually he is raping me and I can't yet use wordless spells or even scream for help and-)

"Ahh... much nicer now when you ...understand what is happening, Mudblood. Though I still... so nice.. so tight... don't need to hear your words, just that ah... ...thankfull expression in your eyes is enough. Those tears of joy..."

Hermione lunges forwards, her fingernails scratching Draco's face. Instant reaction. The silvery-blonde Pureblood takes her left arm in a painful grip and tucks it violently under her back, while holding her right wrist in grip so tight Hermione can’t feel if she even has a hand anymore.

"Like it rough, cunt? I'll show you rough."
Draco takes his wand and stops thrusting inside her, concentrating on something, eyes closed. It is like a little, happy pause during rape. Someone could come and bring some tea and scones...
"Engorgio."

Hermione feels like she is completely torn asunder inside. Even if she would not be under the Silencing charm, her scream would probably be voiceless. Draco, too, is lost for words or even moans, inside this bloody, deliciously violated tightness and climaxes inside her, a white blur of vengeful pleasure clouding his eyes for a moment. He pulls out, panting, and, somewhat reluctantly, reverses the enlargement charm. The pale, lithe Pureblood smirks, his expression so utterly satisfied.

"Finite Incantatem. Okay, now you can thank me for being allowed to have sex with a Malfoy. ...Except that there is still one problem. Just can't have my pure semen being soiled inside your dirty cunt, Mudblood. Scourgify."
On the verge of losing her consciousness from the pain and the humiliation and the violation, Hermione still manages some words between her swollen lips in a thoroughly broken voice.
"You. Will. Never. Get. Away. With. This. Malfoy."
"Oh, really? I must apologize for taking our beautiful moment away from you, but..." Draco kisses Hermione's bloodied cheek chastely and watches the Mudblood trying to pull away in disgust and then passing out. The androgynous Slytherin points his wand at the girl's forehead.
"Obliviate."

Of course it isn't all that simple. Draco has to cast several Scourgify-spells to remove blood from their clothes, put Hermione's knickers back and take a blue, brightly glowing potion from his bag.

(Guess I just have to use my fucking quality healing liquid on the used Mudblood cunt. Even Neville Longbottom would not believe all these wounds could result from tumbling down that ladder, inner eye or not. And as I skipped my Runes lesson to grant Granger such an intimate moment, someone could even think I would have done something evil to her.)

The silvery blond Pureblood rubs the liquid around Hermione's body and soon her bruises look like she had just tumbled down while descending these ladders, knocked her head on the floor and lost her consciousness during that. He drags her body to the most believable spot on the floor.

Then Draco walks away, absently thinking how Granger's probable future Gryffindor boyfriend, Weasel or some other stupid goody-two-shoes, would react to the definite absence of her virginity, after begging oh, so romantically to make love to her for at least half a year. The beautiful lithe Pureblood sniggers, feeling happy and complete again.

And so it is true that time heals all wounds. Payback time.

ENDNOTES:
1. Whee, my third completed fic this far. Also my first attempt to write a) hateful and vengeful rape b) het. (Somehow those two just fit so very well together...) And a part of the "Projekt More !top Draco". 2. Dedicated to my left hand. 3. Of course also an abnormally large "THANK YOU DARLING" to The Real Luciusmistress for a) all our weird time together and b) being my very patient and forgiving beta despite her usual reaction "Het? EWW!" 4. The title is from Goethe but I must confess I found it from NON's record "In the Shadow of the Sword". Eh... confess? Boyd Rice is fucking genius! Also thanks to Alien Sex Fiend from this IMNSHO great song title "Drive my Rocket (up Uranus)" which gave me the basic idea for this sweet little monster of mine. 5. Feedback? Please? Pretty please with sugar and cocaine and cherry on the top? I would especially appreciate constructive criticism, but any feedback (including "burning this text would be an insult to fire" and even "YOU SICK FUCK how can you do this to HERMIONE!!!" ..Now, that would make me ...snigger.) is kindly asked for.