
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13365867.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Yaxley
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Yaxley_(Harry_Potter)
  Additional Tags:
      Non-Consensual_Drug_Use, Date_Rape, Mind_Manipulation, prisoner, captor,
      Psychological_Torture, Forced_Orgasm, Occlumency, Legilimency,
      Exclusively_on_AO3
  Series:
      Part 1 of Nothing
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-14 Words: 5469
****** All You're Worth ******
by Silver_Lioness_(Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)
Summary
     Hermione awakens in a cell with a stranger fixing her wounds but the
     dark room is imbued with a dark potion that brings forth sexual
     fantasies for the captor to enact on the prisoner.
     Her captor is old Corban Yaxley, a Death Eater that is grizzled,
     gnarly, probably was in school with the Dark Lord...
     She tries to fight off the potions effects but he just releases more
     and releases her when she would see her entire collapse into
     nothing...
     According to him...
     It was all she was worth!
Notes
     RAPE from the start and throughout.
     Hermione is 16-Years-Old but I decided to mark it underage as it is
     happening right at the end of her fifth year.
     DATE RAPE, RAPE, ANY. FORM. OF. MANIPULATION is horrific, wrong,
     disgusting, perverted and degraded. I wanted to show how ugly this
     act is by using someone who is reprehensible in everything - looks,
     personality, attitudes... I wanted to describe it in such a way that
     left her vulnerable and angry. Hermione is no one's doormat but we
     will see something happen to her - her personality will shift. We
     know Hermione, the moment he walked out of that door she plot's her
     revenge.
     This is Part One in the Nothing Series. This does not need to be read
     to read Parts two and three if you would rather wait for those to
     happen I do not blame you.
     Part Two - we meet Zaradan Yaxley - the Cornish Branch of the family
     whom I have fancast the delightfully fit Gerard Butler. Also, Lucius
     Malfoy puts in his appearance...
     Part Three - we find out what Nothing actually means to the Ancient
     Laws of Magic
See the end of the work for more notes
NOTES: This story is adopted from Xx_Astrid_xXon AO3. She asked for people to
adopt this story and, so I took the child and hopefully it will grow and
flourish under my care. I decided to change the kidnapper. Lucius will feature
as he did in the original, but I may change the role from whatAstridhad in
mind.
I am going to turn this into a series, with this as Part One. A stand-alone
one-shot that can be read to make part two more understandable. Part two can be
read without this as parts shall get quoted or paraphrased.
TRIGGERS: Rape, Kidnapping, Dungeon, Sex Magic, Legilimency, Occlumency,
Torture, Psychological Torture, Forced Orgasm.
                                        
                                All_Your_Worth
Hermione Granger awoke with her arms chained together on a slimy wall. She
thought she was in some sort of cave. It was the only thing she could see; her
head wasn’t moving, and her eyes were squinting, full of water.
After a moment, she screamed as unbelievable pain shot through her body.
Searing agony scorched her head as if she had the world’s biggest hangover. Her
neck felt as if she had been struggling through a hangman’s noose. Her
shoulders were definitely dislocated. Her torso was covered in scabbing, bloody
wounds. Extreme nausea overwhelmed her- probably from the blood loss. Her hips
felt as if they’d been snapped in half at her groin. She couldn’t even feel her
legs. Fearfully worried, in her drowsy state that she didn’t have any, they
both tingled with the most burning sensation of pins and needles she’d ever
felt.
Slowly, she managed to move her head forward. It felt so heavy, she swore it
was falling off of her body. Her spine cracked loudly several times before her
chin hit her chest. Yep, she smiled triumphantly in her dozed state, she had
one…oh, another one, yes! TWO! Ha! She had two legs dangling from her body at
awkward angles.
What happened to her so that her shirt and jacket were ripped to ribbons. Her
jeans were extremely tight and looked damp. What was that poking in her armpit?
She peered down further and groaned at the state of her bra. Poking out from
its hold was the underwire of her brazier. It jutted straight out thus able to
poke her now exposed underarms and the crook of her neck. Her clothes were
stained with blood.
Or, to put it bluntly; her clothes were wrecked! Conclusion, no pocket money to
buy books. Ugh, what had happened before she woke up?
“Tergeo,” she heard in a gruff, crisp voice behind her, and the blood was gone.
“Vulnera Sanentur.” The wounds closed up and she gasped gently.
“Thank you,” Hermione croaked quietly, reluctantly; the man healing her may
well be the man who had injured her. However, with how groggy she was, it could
be an ally her out-of-it mind couldn’t place. “Sir,” she added after a coughing
fit.
“Oh, I am sure you are grateful,” the harsh grunt sent shivers up her spine.
Definitely an enemy. Macnair? Professor Snape? No, the voice was too guttural…
Bellatrix? No, it lacked the shrill quality of that witch’s voice.
“Who are you?” she murmured. “Where am I? What happened?”
The witch or wizard behind her chuckled. “At least you used your manners before
asking pointless questions…” Ugh, that cologne ought to be banned. Her captor
was a man, and definitely not Professor Snape, his voice starred in too many of
her fantasies for it to be him. Suddenly, she remembered a news bulletin on the
Wizards Radio Network, “I was told you were an obnoxious little lass.”
“Yaxley!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, indeed. I’m surprised you remembered my voice.” Corban Yaxley finally
walked around the bed so he was in front of her. He was dressed in fine black
and silver robes. Little silver serpents wriggled and writhed around his long,
bell like sleeves. Along with his grizzled features and slightly gnarled hands
he looked like a wizard from stories she once loved so long ago.
Like his robes, Yaxley sported long, silky hair that was currently worn
straight down his back. In spite of their appearance, Corban’s hands gracefully
held his wand. It made Hermione sick to look at him as his cold pale blue eyes
sparkled hungrily in the gloomy cell. Yaxley’s mouth spread in a small, cocky
smile, amusement evident in his countenance.
“Why, thank you.”
Confusion coursed through the drowsy teenager before it hit her! Legilimency,
of course. She tried to utilize Occlumens, but was not mentally capable, and
she made a noise of frustration. Yaxley let out a low, short chuckle.
“Such a smart girl. Beautiful, resourceful… Shame all of your talents were
wasted on a mere mudblood. Much like another I once knew,” he ran a finger
tenderly over her cheek causing her to shrink against the lumpy mattress she
was situated on. “I admit you have been a bone of contention to the Ministry
for quite some time.” Corban continued walking. “However, now, with you gone…
Our Lord will be relieved of what could be a cause for migraine, in his
future.”
“You…Ba…Stard!” she huffed out.
Hermione winced as she tried to slap his hand away, grunting a little with the
effort it took and from the agony she was suffering. Corban reacted by raising
a disdainful brow at her. She grunted as she tried to aim her foot at his
crotch.
“Do try to hold in such buffoonish noises as comes natural to your kind.”
Fury seared through the sixteen-year-old and Yaxley sighed. He silently waved
his wand and her wild, dark hair was suddenly untangled and clean a loose braid
spiralled down her spine. He waved his wand once more, and her already ripped
jacket and shredded shirt fell to the floor.
“No!” she tried to shout but came out hoarsely.
She had to show how offended she was through her defiant gaze. Corban rolled
his pale blue eyes as she tried to cover herself with her arms crossed over her
breasts. She sat shivering pathetically on the mattress.
“I have a wife and children,” he sneered creasing his already rugged face into
darkness and sinister intentions. “Several mistresses, also,” he said
nonchalantly. “Nothing a sixteen-year-old girl has is new to me.”
Hermione scowled at him as he waved her jeans away. Her face showing exactly
how feral he was making her. His features twisted into disgust when he found
that the only thing protecting her slit from him was a small bushel of dark
curls.
He sighed and waved his wand once more; he had confused her by covering her
dignity with a new pair clean white cotton panties. Especially as his next move
made her trainers and socks disappear. He cast one final spell and the rest of
her pain dissipated, though the grogginess in her head remained. She soon
realized she was freezing and starving.
“Now, to answer your questions,” Yaxley said. “I, as you have already realized,
am Corban Yaxley. You are in one of the many dungeons of Yaxley Gates,” he
paused as he tilted her chin up and smirked. “One of my personal favourites; it
fogs the mind of any captive within, without hindering the captor, should he
wish to come down here,” he was eager to show off its features so readily to a
witch with an eidetic memory. “You, my pet,” he bent down so his eyes were
inches from her own. “Were captured in what people, (and by people, I mean The
Daily Prophet), have come to refer to as the Battle of the Department of
Mysteries.”
Slowly, jumbled memories came together at the man’s words, she must have been
gazing desperately at him because his expression resembled something of the
shark as it found a school of tuna to feed on. He raised his brows gazing
intently at her, as if wondering what she would say.
“Are…” she gulped as she whispered, her breath mingled with his.
“Yes, little pet?”
“Are my friends alright?”
Corban’s brows fell the smile shortened as he pretended to show deep concern.
“Indeed,” he sighed as he rubbed her naked shoulder, ignoring the flinch she
made when his skin touched hers. “Oh,” he said with another dark smile. “There
were no casualties, as such, the red headed boy landed in a brain vat that’s
probably made him sound more intelligent than previously, oh and a sexy little
slip of a girl broke her leg, and I am certain the fat kid got knocked out by a
lump of concrete. The other one, the delicious looking blonde who I could have
for breakfast was probably the only one unscathed…”
“You’re despicable,” she said. “You stay away from those two!”
“I have not told you the best part, darling,” he leaned further in, his foul
breath wafted over her cheeks as his bulbous nose brushed against her pert one,
“Bellatrix Lestrange pruned her family tree of its most cankerous branch,” her
eyes widened. “The great Sirius Black foiled by a curtain, how droll, don’t
worry, I am sure no one will miss him.”
Hermione swallowed, then looked back down, as tears gathered in her eyes:
“Harry will,” she gulped down the lump in her throat.
“Poor wee Potter, the world would run around its orbit for him but where was it
when my Master was a grimy old orphanage where he was beaten black and blue!”
his varnish was beginning to crack as he drew back from her. “Whilst people
like you were offered protection amongst wizarding families – your precious
Dumbledore made sure he rotted in hell when he was just a child!”
No, that cannot be true. Dumbledore saw good in everybody – he gave Snape a
chance, why would he condemn a child he knew and taught in a time of war? Was
Dumbledore in part to blame for his uprising? Before Hermione could contemplate
this point further she found herself whipped up in the air – invisible shackles
curled around her ankles and wrists. Deliberately placed to be at the perfect
height to look into Yaxley’s contemptible eyes.
Yaxley stood there tilting his head as he gazed at Hermione hung there,
trapped, stretched in such a manner he could take her in any place he pleased.
This needed deliberation, for that he remained in silence for several long
moments before Corban broke it.
“That’s it, then?” he said mocking her. “No more questions, no begging for
release, no screaming profanities at me?”
Corban was disappointed to say the least, he’d heard how spirited Miss Granger
was, he liked fire hearted fillies to break and train. There was something odd
about his behaviour, as if he wanted her to do those things.
“Do this often?” Hermione quipped, her throat was sore.
Corban gave her a dark, intense look.
“More than you may imagine,” he replied.
Hermione looked away: “Why?”
“You’ll need to be more specific.”
“Why am I here?”
Corban seemed to think it over, before giving a graceful, nonchalant shrug.
“Why not?”
Hermione hacked out a sob of despair at her hopeless situation. How was she to
come free from this if no one on their side was aware she was missing? What
about her parents? Harry, she lowered her head to keep the sounds of sorrow
down.
Yaxley moved closer and unshackled the girl, making sure she landed on
something soft. He did not spend all that time and magic to fix her only for
her to break her bones five minutes after. Corban clicked his fingers.
“You will soon be mine, do you know what I have just done, my pet?”
She curled her lip in a sneer: “Go screw yourself!”
“Oh, no, I do not think so. I think you are going to be quite fine for the job.
Soon, I shall release a potion, as invisible as gas, that will seep into your
brain opening your mind. Your fantasies shall soon be mine.”
Hermione tried to block her nose and mouth: “That would not work,” he said
dispassionately. “The gas has already entered your system. You can do little to
fight it. Soon, little girl, you will be putty in my hands.”
“No!” she screamed as she grunted with pain to fight him off. Without her wand
she was ineffective as a fighter. She could punch a boy like Draco but not this
twisted man made extra strong by anger. “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HAVE ME! NO ONE
IS!”
The vile wizard reached out and grabbed her by the waist, shocked her yet again
when Corban tenderly lowered her onto an extremely large black velvet cushion.
She squirmed in his filthy, gnarled hands.
He could see the gas was beginning to take effect, patiently waiting until her
eyes glazed over. It only took her moments before she laid on her back. Her
manner compliant. As soon as her naked flesh met the comforting warmth of the
oversized pillow she was already a little relaxed and released a soft sigh and
a watery smile.
“I figured you would have put up much more of a fight,” remarked the Death
Eater, “then again that is the beauty of this neat little potion.”
Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care at this point. He walked slowly up to
her drugged form. Cautiously, she opened her left eye to see him crouched
beside her.
Yaxley tutted at her, then snapped his fingers; suddenly, she was wide awake.
She looked at him as he shifted, then parted her legs. She frowned, confused
once more as she watched him fiddling about with his belt. He knelt between her
thighs, leaned over her, one hand to the right of her head, the other snaking
over her waist, he grinned.
“You said thank you so prettily,” he crooned vulgarly in her ear, “now’s the
time for youto show me how grateful you really are!”
He slammed her wrists suddenly beside her ears. Her eyes and mouth wide open in
shock. Coldly, he glared down at her as she tried to twist her body underneath
him. She was just aware of something happening that was wrong, perverted but it
was as if her muscles had gone to sleep.
“Just stay still like a good little Mudblood,” he murmured.
Frightened of what she may see Hermione closed her eyes and let her head tilt
to the side. When they were closed she felt numb, a sort of pleasant fizziness
entered her mind allowing her to just relax. Besides, she sighed, Mudblood was
such a wonderful sounding word. Like she was made of mud. Like she was made of
mud andhad a superpower for making things grow extra-fast. Mudblood Girl – she
can feed the thousands of Africa! She giggled as the gas calmed her as it
addled her mind.
Corban gently traced her body over with his hands. She opened her eyes again to
see the oddly aesthetic contrast of his roughened, gnarled hands on her smooth,
untouched flesh.
That feels weird, she found herself thinking. Instead of focusing on what the
wizard was doing as he removed her panties she was hypnotised by the pretty
colours dancing in her eyes. Completely unaware that he lifted the material up
to his crudely shaped nose and sniffed in her aroma. He tucked them into his
robes.
Then he swooped down on her body. He watched a fantasy of Viktor Krum seducing
her in the dungeons, a few real memories of his sensational kisses overcame the
visions. From that he gained the knowledge he needed to assault her body.
Convinced she was with Viktor, she arched up her hips to allow him to do with
her as he willed. He nuzzled his odd nose into the crook of her neck, fervently
petting it with harsh, wet kisses. She cooed as his experienced tongue traced
her skin, as his strong arms wrapped around her. He was big, and masculine, and
brilliant, and she was small, and feminine, and complaisant…
… Then she made a noise as she realized… no, she wasn’t with Viktor at all.
Panic filled her… Panic, and terror… She didn’t want-
He realised a stronger dose was needed so he clicked his fingers twice.
The dark feelings soon melted away as his callused hands roughly massaged her
breasts with his warm hands. “What do you want me to do, right this minute,
Hermyowninny?” he murmured hungrily into her precious young skin, making sure
he sounded like Viktor. “Vat is it you vant from me?”
What did she want? She didn’t want him to stop… Ever. “Viktor, please don’t
stop.”
He leaned back and looked down at her thin body, a strange look in his eyes,
then met hers. “Show me your desire, my Hermie,” he cooed.
Suddenly, she thought about all the fantasies she’d ever had. Ones of Snape
calling her in his office for extra credit and refusing unless she laid across
his desk naked as a new-born whilst he petted her like a cat. The many varied
ones she’d had about Viktor. She recalled the one of Lucius Malfoy (how that
occurred she still did not know), where he had come to visit the school on
Governor business and found her in a hallway all on her own and would not let
her pass unless she offered to polish his wand for him.
They were all fantasies, however, as she was still a virgin. Oh, so the little
mudblood likes darker older men – this should be easy, Corban’s thick cracked
lips curved in a dark smirk.
Corban gruffly took her lips in his. He was utterly delighted that she kissed
him back, thoughtlessly moving her tongue against his, her lips in rhythm with
his. He felt himself spinning out of control as he ground against her core with
his hardening erection. He gripped onto her thighs, forcing them to stay open
by pinching his fingertips into the soft flesh causing her to wince a little
but otherwise impervious to any other pain.
The pressure that ‘Viktor’ had built between her legs felt surprisingly good to
her. His burgeoning penis sent a message to her stomach, she felt a tingling
warmth and the feeling of…something…something animal. Her non-cognisant state
made her feel like jelly.
She moaned in protest as he pulled back and moved down to her small breasts:
“Such perfect little ripe peaches for me to suck on,” he growled as he sucked
one hungrily in his mouth. He was mimicking, showing her what she would soon be
doing to his dick. He let go with a small pop, only to start suckling her
proudly erect tawny nipple, “oh so sweet, so good, so tender, so…young!”
She whimpered as an odd, sharp pleasure rippled through her chest, and gasped
as the same feeling intensified when his crooked, yellowing teeth bit down on
her breast.
Again, she was vaguely aware that something was wrong. Viktor did not have long
straggly blond hair. Neither was he wrinkled around the forehead. She was
absolutely certain that this was… He felt her coming back to her senses again.
He had snarled as he clicked his fingers, yet again, to release more.
He licked around his bite, soothing her throbbing flesh. When it looked
somewhat better he switched to the other little breast: “Oh darling, my
Hermie,” he said again mimicking what he saw of Viktor in her mind. To show her
Vik her appreciation, she then began rubbing against his clothed shaft willing
for her own release to come. “Mmm, you really like me, don’t you Hermie,” he
growled.
She was sure to burst if he did not kiss her soon. Her entire body was a puddle
of insatiate lust. Once he felt the dampness from her core he reached down a
hand and slipped it between their bodies, slowly he rubbed his hand against her
open slit, and she sighed and relaxed as she felt a sharp tang of absolute
bliss as ‘Viktor’ began playing with her in earnest murmuring the endearments
Corban had gained in Bulgarian.
Completely unaware of the toxic potion insidiously creeping into her system to
keep her docile and accepting of this spiteful man’s assault, Hermione
continued acting like the grunting wizard above her was her heart’s desire. She
was lost in her own fantasy! Believing it with all her being that Viktor Krum
was indeed seducing her, saying and doing these delicious things.
A dark, proud smirk adorned his lips, before he started kissing her sensually
again. It was torture for him to be rubbing her slowly in the desperate search
for an even purer; a delectably intense pang that would surely climb the
pinnacle of Nirvana itself. His fingers danced within her and she cooed into
his mouth, his lips left hers and she whimpered desperately to have them back.
He continued to slowly play with her clit enjoying enacting the fantasy he’d
seen in her head.
Ah, his eyes lit up, her thighs twitched! A sure sign she was coming soon. She
was so enthralled by his fingers deep within her that she was incapable of
kissing him back. He began to pick up the pace, increasing his assault on her.
She felt like she needed to do something, as if she had some kind of growling
beast burning deep in her belly demanding a desperate need of release, and she
begged incoherently for something she had no comprehension of needing. Supine
in his arms – the man she thought was Viktor due to the poisoning of her
thoughts – continued his ministrations.
He groaned into her mouth, suddenly his greedy, lovely fingers were moving
faster. Her mewls and squeals were a symphony of sounds the depraved Death
Eater could listen to over and again. Fascination overtook his being as he
continued to bring her closer to an unexplored, delicious edge. She growled and
grunted in primal rage as he suddenly stopped, leaving her feeling unsatisfied.
Her mesmeric state compelled her to watch as he slowly undressed. Her eyes
followed glistening fingers as they, to her addled senses, elegantly unclasped
the outer robe. Then he untied the leather straps that kept his dragonhide
chest plate on. She gulped as she saw his scarred neck, he took his silk white
tunic and tore it straight from his body. He yanked his trousers down, keeping
his boots on.
Without any warning he pushed himself inside of her; sweet Nimue, he sighed.
Her glazed eyes rolled into the back of her head as he jerked his hips
thrusting smoothly inside her. He felt so big and foreign, she mused.
Was it not supposed to hurt on first entry? She was now so out of herself that
she shrugged nonchalantly, as she lay back to enjoy ‘Viktor’. Moaning and
purring underneath him. Encouraging him to go harder, to go faster!
Suddenly, he clapped his hands clearing the mists in her mind. Regaining her
own thoughts, clarity of perceptions, and logical self. He wanted to see her
fight. She glanced up and found the craggiest looking man on top of her. She
was not in the arms of Viktor Krum but in the unnatural embrace of this ugly
man.
She felt sick, physically ill. As soon as she was her proper self she tried to
fight him off; this despicable, disgusting man, who looked old enough to be her
grandfather. His face a rictus of twisted pleasure whilst he continued
thrusting in and out of her like his life depended on it.
Anger now consumed her. She lifted her legs and kicked at him, clawing her
nails into whatever flesh she could reach, in an effort to fight him off. It
was too late! Not even the deep state of euphoria he was in stopped him from
casting wandlessly and wordlessly.
Again, invisible rope bound her wrists and ankles together.
She screamed and wept as he pounded her. Hating every minute of it now she was
in her right mind. Yaxley leered down at her; he was still exerting Legilimens.
Her fantasies had helped make sure she was wet enough for him to slide in and
out.
Her inner walls disobeyed her as they gripped around his average but girthy
member as it slammed against her cervix. His eyes rolled back in his head. His
vile hands gripped onto her breasts causing her to yell in pain. Red angry
stripes formed on them. Ignoring her screams, he kept thrusting into her. He
moved one hand off one achingly sore breast and soon started to swirl his
fingers on her now engorged, needy clit.
She sucked in air.
“You will come for me, you little mudblood, this is all you’re worthy of,” his
other hand slipped down her back to caress her bottom cheeks, he soothed the
area first before drawing his finger up her anal passage which stung. “Come,
come my little pet, my prize. Come!”
Hermione tried to twist herself out from him, but his gruff hands bruised her
hips trying to keep her in place. She gasped and screamed, gasped and screamed
in a steady rhythm. Quickly, she felt her body seemingly explode with colour.
Her groin spasming in a way Hermione couldn’t explain.
Still, Corban was dissatisfied as she forced herself to remain quiet by biting
into the cushion. He twiddled her clit still, even though her limbs were
tingling as though a thousand thousand needles had inserted themselves in the
layers of her skin. She was so listless that the girl could swear she was going
to die here, at the hand of an old, hate-filled, cruel Death Eater.
Yaxley pounded her more roughly at her thoughts of him. Really letting go as he
inserted a finger up her sphincter. Her shocked gasp and the grunt of pain that
followed were somewhat intoxicating to the grizzled man.
“Is that what you think of me?” he shouted in her scared face, spit flew all
over her body. “Is that how you thank me?” he snarled as he yanked his finger
out of her anus and wrapped his hands tightly about her throat strangling her.
“Is that how you wish this to be after how nicely I’ve treated you?” He mocked.
“You have not treated me nicely at all, you have made fun of me, stripped me
naked, you raped my mind and body!” she shouted back. “Using my own fantasies
against me. YOU ARE DESPICABLE!”
His response was to yank her hair and twist the plait around his wrist, to
ensure the maximum amount of pain: “I clothed you, bitch,” he pounded with each
word. “I cured you of your pain! I even stopped Dolohov from cursing you with
the vicious Amethyst Flame. You,” he tugged on her hair as he continued his
assault, “OWE ME!”
“I don’t owe you anything!” she snarled reaching up to scratch at his face
clawing at his eyes.
He yowled in agony as he felt her tear into him. Her body went over the edge
again, and she screamed as it all felt so wrong; it had to end, it just had to.
He had to stop, she couldn’t handle it- she couldn’t feel anything now.
“THIS,” he shouted, “is all you are, mudblood,” Corban growled. “A dirty little
whore with holes that needs to be filled by wizards better than you”
She tried to ignore the persistent throbbing of her head that was the effect of
him pulling and tugging on her hair like he was some Neanderthal dragging his
woman to the cave. She was going to survive, to outlive the pain, to overcome
what this man had done to her. Hermione vowed to ensure a vicious demise just
for him.
No! That extra liquid could not be from him? Was he ejaculating? A short,
amused laugh erupted from his belly. Then he shuddered.
If Hermione thought he’d gained his release, she was wrong.
He just slammed faster. Harder. His body jerked and jolted.
His thrusts were short, sharp shocks into her system. Her walls tightened as
she arched her body. She refused to come but he saw the thought, so he pinched
her clit as his thrusts became urgent.
With a whoosh and a sigh, he came!
She hated the fact that she was forced to take his seed.
She glared at him spitefully. He growled quite happily as he felt it go limp
inside her and slowly withdrew from her savaged body. His expression remained
blank as he observed his semen slowly dripping out of her.
He also watched her crawl into the centre of the black velvet cushion crying
into the material.
She felt absolutely horrible.  
Disgusting.
Dirty!
She wept for herself, for Harry, for Sirius. Most of all, she wept for her
parents who probably had no clue where she was.
“Such an ingrate.” spat Corban coldly.
He narrowed his eyes, already bored of her self-pitying display of woe. He
reached out, grabbing her by her braid, yanking her towards him just to remind
her, once again, who called the shots here. She yelled out in pain.
“LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU DEVIL’S BASTARD!”
“Shut up,” he roared. “You could have had it oh so very good,”
He scowled at her body writhing and twisting under his Crucio. Starting to
bruise and bleed. It felt like hours had passed before he shoved her back onto
the pillow.
“I would rather you rot in hell,” she said darkly, her tears drying due to
anger and the need for vengeance.
He proceeded to redress carefully making sure everything was correctly arranged
whilst his lips curled in a vicious sneer. The sixteen-year-old curled into
herself and cried.
“That is not a threat, my little pet,” Corban hissed down at her.
He limped his way to the iron clad oak door of her cell. All she could see was
his greying blond hair. She felt as if she would puke any moment now. His hand
was raised on the heavy sliding locks that could only move to their Master’s
and his trusted, command. He looked over his shoulder to meet the eyes of the
girl one final time.
“This will be my only time with you, my dear little mite,” she clutched the
cushion and held it over her body, so he would not have the pleasure of gazing
upon the wreck he’d made of her. “You shall have your wish granted. However,”
he smirked, “there is no Harry Potter to save you now, you woodlouse.”
“The Order will rescue me!” she said defiantly.
“Let’s see if you are so smart with that pretty little mouth of yours when you
meet my colleagues who are all dying to get a little taste of you, my little
mealworm.”
“I would rather die.”
“My dear,” he said as he stepped through the open door, “that is rather the
point, you see – mudblood – we are going to turn you into darkness itself.
Soon, Miss Hermione Granger, you will be reduced to nothing more than a husk. I
know you would rather die, but imagine my cupcake, what life would be like if
you lost your ability to think…imagine what you will be when you are nothing
but a drone slave for our Lord?”
She flinched as the door banged against the frame. The slip-slide of the bolt
to shut her in echoed like a death bell to her pumping heart.
Hermione was left in the centre of the cell; battered, bruised, ravaged, and
cold. She lay the pillow down flat and curled on it as much as she could to
keep her warm. She did not think she’d sleep ever again.
Fear’s fingers crawled into Hermione’s heart as she lay there wide-awake and
absolutely sore, frozen to the bone, and so alone.
Who were the others that could do worse things to her? Were they bigger than
him? Would they take everything she had? Would she really be reduced to the
state of nothing?
A state she’d only ever thought could exist in sci-fi stories like Doctor Who!
The cold dark cell offered no comfort whatsoever. Dismally, she shrunk further
into the shadows as she wondered what, or who, could happen upon her next.
Most of all, though, her thoughts went out to her parents.
Oh, please, do not let them know I am missing.
I’d never be able to see Harry again!
The longer you’re here, a snide voice whispered inside her head said, the more
likely it is that Harry will die.
No, she thought as she gripped the cushion tightening it in her fists. They’d
have to come through me first, and, fortunately for me, I can fight back.
I will!
I won’t let the bastards grind me down!
End Notes
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