Title: Spoils of War
Warning: Angst, non-con, torture, violence, a few bdsm tones
Word Count: 5,525
Summary: “You don't seem to understand, Mudblood,” he said rather cheerfully, taking her chin firmly in one hand and pressing his fingers against her flesh with bruising force. “Your friends are dead.”
Notes: The obligatory love, adoration, and thanks go to my beta for all of her hard work on editing this and being a sounding board during the writing process. And for the Britpicking and title suggestion.
Spoils of War
The stone flooring was cold against her bare cheek as Hermione's eyes cracked open, blinking in the dim lighting of her dungeon cell. As she pushed herself up into a sitting position, several spasms of pain in her back protested the movement and she inhaled sharply through her gritted teeth. Holding herself as still as possible, Hermione scanned the area around her, ignoring the twinge in her neck when she turned her head. The cell was empty, save for a ratty pallet with a threadbare blanket in one corner. Outside the bars, she wasn't able to see anything other than a narrow stone corridor that went on at least a few feet to either side.
Forcing herself to move despite the pain, Hermione crawled closer to the bars and looked out, hoping to see other cells, or at least someone she could speak to. Instead, she was only able to make out a dark archway well off to the right, which marked a staircase that travelled upwards. She gave an experimental tug on the bars of her cell and frowned when there wasn't so much as a rattle in response.
“Hello?” she tried to call out, only managing a feeble whisper that hardly reached her own ears and making her lips crack painfully. Her tongue darted out to wet them, though it did her little good, and she tried again. “Is anyone there?”
“Finally awake, are you, Mudblood?” Draco Malfoy drawled, leaning against the stones of the archway at the bottom of the stairs. His arms were folded over his chest as he watched her, a familiar sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth. Narrowing her eyes at him, Hermione tightened her hold on the bars of her cell.
“Malfoy,” she hissed, pulling her face closer to the bars. “What's going on?”
“You've forgotten already?” Draco asked, arching one narrow brow as he pushed himself away from the wall. His footsteps echoed against the stones slightly, and Hermione's eyes were drawn for a moment to the heavy boots on his feet. “What a shame,” he said, as he stepped closer to her cell, pulling her attention back to his face. “It seems I haven't yet made enough of an impression on you. Move away from the bars,” he added sharply, coming to stop in front of them.
“Why should I?” Hermione snapped back at him, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at him. “Tell me wh-”
“Crucio!” Draco's hand had pulled his wand out faster than Hermione was able to follow, and her sentence was cut short by the torture curse wracking her body with waves of pain. Her hands tightened on the bars until the knuckles whitened, and Hermione gritted her teeth as she pressed her forehead against them, squeezing her eyes closed. Almost as quickly as it had begun, the pain stopped and, for a moment, there was no sound in the cold dungeon other than her own ragged breathing.
“Now, I believe that I told you to move,” Draco growled dangerously, and Hermione opened her eyes somewhat hesitantly. His wand was still pointed at her through the bars, and his grey eyes challenged her to protest again. After one tension riddled moment, she finally released her hold on the metal and slid herself a few paces back. Once again, her back protested the movement, but she ignored the twinges of pain more easily than she had before.
She glared at Draco silently as he dismantled the wards on her cell with a series of non-verbal spells, looking for any clues as to what he was casting to keep her inside. With a faint clicking sound, the door to her cell swung slightly inwards and Draco strode in, swiftly kicking the door closed again behind him. “Tell me what's going on,” she snapped, trying not to flinch when the loud sound of the door banging closed aggravated the dull ache in her head.
“Is that any way to address your Master?” he asked, grey eyes glinting wickedly at Hermione's appalled expression. “Allow me to be the bearer of 'bad' news, Granger,” Draco continued, smirking in satisfaction as he aimed his wand at her again and gave it a sharp flick. The non-verbal spell dragged Hermione from her place on the stones with a startled gasp, pulling her to her feet and pressing her back against the cold wall. “You've officially been stripped of your rights in the eyes of the wizarding world,” he drawled, stepping closer until there were only a few inches between them, bracing himself with one arm against the wall beside her head. “You're nothing but a slave now; my own little war prize for loyal service to the Dark Lord.”
Hermione found herself stunned into silence for a moment as her brain attempted to process what he'd just said. The last she remembered, she, Harry, and Ron had been separated when the Snatchers had brought them to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange had gotten her hands on her for a while, until she had been lucky enough to lose consciousness. The next thing she knew, she had woken up on the floor of her cell; not exactly promising information. But as she felt Draco's eyes roaming over her body slowly, with a rather predatory gleam, Hermione felt a wave of rebellion wash over her.
“Not for long,” she challenged confidently. Harry and Ron were too lucky and too determined to have been killed, which could only mean that they had gotten away. And if they had been able to escape, then certainly, they would be coming back for her. “The Order will come to save me. Harry and Ron will...”
What she had been about to say was silenced as Draco leaned his head back slightly and laughed. The sound echoed off the stones around them until it rang in her ears, and Hermione attempted to pull her arm away from the wall so that she could slap him. The spell he'd cast held her fast, though, and all she was able to do was glare as Draco met her eyes again. “You don't seem to understand, Mudblood,” he said rather cheerfully, taking her chin firmly in one hand and pressing his fingers against her flesh with bruising force. “Your friends are dead.”
“Liar!” Hermione gasped, jerking her face sharply in an attempt to get free from Draco's grasp, but he held her tight.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Draco said in a bored tone, stepping back from her as he released his grip on her jaw to trail his hand along the curve of her throat in a threatening caress. “It will only make your pain greater when I break you.” Hermione inhaled sharply as Draco pressed the side of his hand against her windpipe, restricting the airway slightly until black spots hovered at the edges of her vision. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching her panic, Hermione squeezed her eyes closed and bit down on her lower lip until she tasted blood.
Draco released her from the spell holding her to the wall at the same time he withdrew his hand, and Hermione's legs crumpled beneath her. “You're too filthy to be moved upstairs just yet,” he said as he turned away, ignoring the heated glare that she aimed at his back. “I'll send an elf to have you cleaned. Enjoy your hopes of rescue while you can, Granger,” Draco added as he stepped out of her cell, the sound of the barred door closing echoing in the quiet dungeon. “I assure you, they won't last you long.”
The loud, familiar crack of an Apparition sounded just inside of her cell not long after Draco left. When Hermione raised her eyes towards the barred door, a small gasp of surprise slipped past her lips and she crawled a step closer to the small figure that stood to one side. “Kreacher?” she asked quietly, the rasp of her voice gone now, although she still had a difficult time projecting the sound much above a whisper. Rather than the expression of welcome she had hoped for from the elf, Kreacher's eyes narrowed as he looked up at her from behind the large bucket he held carefully in his hands.
“Master says the Mudblood is to wash herself,” he hissed, contempt laced in his voice as he spat the words. When Hermione withdrew at the tone, Kreacher lowered the bucket to the floor and kicked it towards her, causing some of the water to splash over the sides and spray against the filthy stones.
“Why aren't you with Harry, Kreacher?” she asked, pulling the bucket closer in case the elf decided to kick at it again. His lips pulled wide into what Hermione could only assume was a grin, baring his nasty teeth at her as he answered.
“Kreacher is no longer the property of blood-traitors and Mudblood scum. Kreacher serves a good family now, yes, a proper family!” Kreacher's dark eyes glinted with satisfaction and a kind of glee she had never seen in them at Grimmauld Place. But as quickly as she saw it, the expression disappeared as he seemed to realize who he was speaking to again. “Wash,” he snapped, folding his scrawny arms over his chest as he took a seat on the stone floor, facing away from her.
After aiming a brief glare at the elf's back, Hermione looked down at the bucket of water and frowned. There was a tattered rag draped over the edge, one end soaked and clinging to the wood, and the froth of bubbles told her that there had been soap added to the water. But while the bucket had been large compared to Kreacher, it wasn't much for washing her entire body. Her jeans and the sweater she had been wearing when she'd been captured were covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust already, leaving her to assume what skin she had exposed, as well as her hair, was in just as dreadful shape.
“Hurry up, Mudblood,” Kreacher snapped, twisting his head to look over his shoulder at her with narrowed eyes. “Master does not like to be kept waiting!” The elf looked away again, and Hermione glared down at her reflection in the bucket. Malfoy could make all the demands of her he wanted, it didn't mean she had to comply. No 'bath' was worth giving in to him.
“No,” she said confidently, mimicking the elf's pose as she sat back on the floor, folding her arms over her chest and nudging the bucket away with her foot. “Tell your 'Master' I said to sod off.”
Faster than she expected for a creature so old, Kreacher was on his feet, glaring at her with nothing but disgust in his large eyes. “Kreacher does not obey the Mudblood filth that skulks in Master's dungeons,” he hissed, bringing his face only a few inches away from her own, though he had to lift his head a bit to do it. “Master did not wish Kreacher to soil his hands to clean his prize, but if you will not wash yourself, then Kreacher will suffer through it.” Hermione glanced warily down at the gnarled hands of the elf in front of her and flinched slightly. The thought of his hands on her at all, especially with the expression of hatred etched into every wrinkled line of his face, was more unappealing than giving in to Draco long enough to bathe herself.
Gritting her teeth, Hermione nodded stiffly after a moment, reaching for the bucket again as soon as the elf stepped away. This time, however, he remained facing her when he sat down, as though he didn't trust her to really follow through.
It was uncomfortable to 'bathe' under such conditions, though Hermione took some small comfort in the fact that it wasn't Draco who was watching her. At least Kreacher's eyes did not scrutinize her bare flesh as she was certain his would have, if the way he'd looked at her earlier was any indication. The ratty rag was rough against her skin and rubbed it raw in places as she scrubbed away the thin layer of earth that clung to her body. By the time she finished, dropping the cloth into the bucket of water, there were patches of red along her legs and arms where there had been more to wash away.
“No clothes,” Kreacher snapped, taking to his feet as he saw Hermione reaching for the discarded sweater she'd been wearing earlier. Her hand stilled for only a moment before she ignored his words and grabbed at the Muggle fabric. Before she could begin to pull it over her head, though, the elf's fingers wrapped tightly around one of her wrists in a grip tight enough to cut off the circulation to her hand. “Master says no clothes,” he hissed, reaching out with his other hand to yank the sweater sharply away from her.
“I don't give a damn what your 'Master' says,” Hermione shot back, trying to pull her wrist free from him as she grasped for her jeans with her free hand. Her fingers had nearly closed around one of the trouser legs when Kreacher Apparated both of them out of her cell.
Nearly as soon as the world steadied around her again, Hermione felt a spell twining around her still-kneeling form, forcing her wrists together and holding them firmly in her lap. The room that they arrived in was warm and brightly lit, forcing Hermione to blink against the light as her eyes slowly adjusted. Compared to that of the dungeon, the air was slightly warmer here, and the rug beneath her knees was soft and almost comfortable. “Kreacher brought your slave for you, Master,” said the elf beside her, and from the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him bow as he spoke.
“Off with you, then,” Draco answered from above her, his words followed by the loud crack beside her ear as Kreacher disappeared. “And you,” the blond added, stepping in front of Hermione as she tilted her chin up to glare at him, “Stand.”
“Sod off,” Hermione snapped, feeling her temper flare as Draco's lip twitched in amusement. Rather than reach for his wand as she expected, however, he bent closer to her and grabbed her throat firmly in one hand.
“When I give you an order, you will obey it,” he said calmly, though his voice still held an undertone of warning. “Now stand.”
“Bite m-” Draco's palm collided painfully with Hermione's cheek with a loud slap that seemed to ring on the air in the otherwise quiet room. It was enough to bring tears welling at the corners of her eyes as Hermione met his gaze, though she gritted her teeth to hold them back.
“Let's try this again, Mudblood. Stand!” Despite the stinging pain in her cheek, Hermione glared up at him in silence, and Draco pressed his fingers tighter against her throat to cut off her airway entirely for a moment before loosing his grasp again. “This is your last warning.”
“Fuck you, Malfoy,” she hissed, eliciting a dark chuckle from Draco as he straightened, releasing his grasp on her throat entirely.
“Already so eager for my cock, are you?” he mocked, taking a step back to circle around behind her slowly as he withdrew his hand from his pocket. “Don't worry, you'll have that soon enough. For now, however, it seems that you have a lesson to learn.”
Hermione opened her mouth to bite back another insult, but was immediately silenced by a leather gag fitting behind her teeth, conjured by an almost lazy flick of Draco's wand. His pale fingers grasped a tight handful of her still damp curls then, jerking his arm upwards sharply until Hermione was forced to her feet with a wince of pain. Desperately, she swung one foot back in an attempt to catch him off guard, but to no avail. Draco seemed to expect her attack and blocked the blow by turning his leg slightly so that her foot collided with his shin.
“Such a feisty slave,” Draco said, twisting Hermione's face towards him by the hair. “As much as I would enjoy taking you right now, you're still in need of a reminder where your new place in life is.” Hermione glared at him through narrowed eyes as her teeth dug into the leather, preventing her from speaking. Aiming his wand at her again, Draco cast a binding charm on her legs before releasing her hair and stepping back.
Hermione tried to turn as he moved away, but her legs were held in place as firmly as her hands were bound by the same spell, and she groaned in frustration. With her back to him, she missed the next gesture of his wand that levitated her a few inches from the floor. Feeling her feet leaving the soft rug, however, she tilted her head down to see what had happened, only to snap it back over her shoulder to look at Draco in confusion.
The blond only smirked at her as he cast a non-verbal spell that set her body turning slowly in place before he turned and moved away to sit in the overstuffed chair positioned to face her. Pointing his wand at Hermione again, Draco cast an unfamiliar spell and for a moment, nothing happened. As she spun around to fully face Draco, however, something snapped sharply against the bare flesh of her back and she cried out in surprise and pain behind her gag.
“Do you like that?” Draco asked, idly plucking an empty crystal tumbler from the small table beside his chair in one hand and a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky in the other. “It's a rather convenient spell, really,” he continued, pouring a finger into the glass before returning the bottle to the table. “The tail will keep away from your face and any other sensitive areas, and I'm able to simply sit and watch.”
Hermione's brow furrowed as she was turned away from him, wondering what he had meant, when her eyes locked on the hovering braided leather whip that he had conjured. It flicked back away from her in a wind up as she turned, snapping forward to land across the tops of her breasts with a snap. A fresh wave of pain washed over her, and this time Hermione sunk her teeth into the leather in an attempt to remain silent.
She jerked slightly when the whip tail slashed across one thigh as she continued to turn, leaving the first mark behind. The next blow landed neatly against her shoulder blades and Hermione squeezed her eyes closed against the pain. From his seat only a few paces away, Draco watched the scene in front of him with the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. Each strike of the enchanted whip left a dull stripe of red behind, marring her flesh, and when the tail caught against one of Hermione's nipples, he watched the first tear begin sliding slowly down her cheek.
Draco could see in the firm set of her jaw that Hermione was struggling to remain silent beneath the blows of the leather whip. Despite the initial tear, she had yet to break down crying from the pain, although he knew it was only a matter of time before she would. Taking up his wand again, the blond aimed it at the woman's turning body to adjust the speed of her lashing. Her eyes, which had remained stubbornly closed for the past several moments, snapped open with a startled whimper when one of the blows landed dangerously low on her back.
Hermione tensed, and her gaze fell on Draco as she was turned around to face him, a mixture of distrust and concern shining in her eyes, as well as the first hints of fear. She seemed oblivious to the next handful of blows as she watched him, trying to analyse whether he'd been honest with her when he said that the whip would stay away from sensitive spots such as her kidneys. Draco did nothing to discourage her concerns, instead he only flashed her a satisfied smirk over the rim of his tumbler as he took another sip of Firewhisky. Fear would go a long way in making her a more compliant slave, after all.
When the whipping finally came to an end, Hermione's upper back, thighs, and breasts were all striped an angry shade of red. The flesh felt sensitive and raw, and even the small whisper of air against the marks as she continued to rotate was painful. As she turned around to face Draco again, he released her legs from the binding spell with a sharp snap of his wrist, cancelling the levitation spell in the same motion.
Without having the opportunity to gain her balance again, Hermione crumpled to the floor as soon as her bare feet touched the rug. Her lips twitched around the gag in a wince of pain as she collided harshly with the floor, but she bit down on the leather to keep from making any sounds other than an initial grunt of discomfort.
“Come here,” Draco ordered sharply, once Hermione was released from his spellwork. Raising her face slightly, she glared at him in defiant silence even as she remained on her knees where she had landed. “Have it your way then,” he added with an obviously feigned sigh. Standing, Draco took a step towards her and watched as Hermione straightened her back slightly at his approach. Ignoring her small attempt at bravery, Draco passed by her in favour of a dark oak cabinet against the wall behind her.
He didn't bother keeping his eye trained on her as he opened the top drawer, knowing that her legs wouldn't support her well enough for her to try and get out of the room – not that she'd make it more than a few feet down the hall without a wand. “I had hoped you would be difficult to break,” he said in an amused tone, removing a steel collar from drawer and pushing it closed with his shoulder as he turned back to face the naked woman in front of him. Hermione had twisted around on her knees to watch him, although the defiance in her gaze had given way to a hint of uncertainty and fear as she glanced at the item in his hands.
“Pansy gives in to me too easily, and I do so love a challenge.” Draco leant over her to tangle his free hand in her hair before she could make any sounds of protest from behind her gag. A pained gasp tore from her lips, though it was almost entirely swallowed by the leather, as he pushed her roughly towards the floor, crushing her stomach against her knees as he pinned her in place by placing one booted foot against her shoulders. Doubled over as she was, it quickly became a struggle to get a proper breath as Draco swept the curtain of her hair out of the way and circled the ice-cold steel around her throat.
Hermione made a muffled comment from behind the gag, but the words came out inaudible between the leather and her position beneath his boot. Unexpectedly, Draco laughed at her feeble attempt at bravery, the sound almost drowning out the definitive click of the collar's lock as it closed around her neck.
“Something you want to say to me, Granger?” Draco mocked, pressing his foot more firmly against her shoulders until the pressure caused a spasm of pain that made her inhale sharply. Stubbornly, she snarled another comment at him that was defeated by the leather strap in her mouth. Removing his foot from her shoulders, Draco hooked his finger through a ring attached to the back of the collar and used it to pull Hermione to her feet. “You may as well give it up,” he told her, pushing her along ahead of him as he moved towards a desk tucked away at the opposite side of the room. “Whatever you might want to say won't change what has happened to you. Or what will happen,” Draco added, pushing her forward with a sharp thrust of his arm.
He released the collar as he did, sending Hermione stumbling forward another step until she collided with the desk in front of her. Her knees slammed against the wood and she slumped slightly over the desktop as her knees protested their rough treatment. Draco was behind her before she had the opportunity to straighten, pushing her face down until her cheek was pressed against the smooth wood of the desk and her breasts were crushed against it.
There was a rustling of fabric from behind her, although the pressure of Draco's hand against the back of her head never lightened. Hermione jerked in surprise a moment later when he pressed his body against hers, bare flesh against flesh as he moulded himself along the curve of her back. His cock pressed insistently against her arse as he brushed his lips against her ear, ignoring her frantic attempts to squirm away from him.
“I suggest you do as I say,” he breathed, the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear sending an involuntary shiver along her spine. “Grab the edge of the desk.” Flexing her hands slightly, Hermione found that he'd released the spell that was binding them in place, and she uncertainly stretched them out to curl her fingers around the edge of the desk. “Good girl,” Draco growled, turning his face in towards her neck and nipping at the flesh there until Hermione whimpered.
She heard him mutter something against the curve of her throat and her eyes flickered towards her hands where they grasped the desk, watching as two bands of steel clicked around her wrists. As a fresh wave of panic washed over her, she pulled at the restraints, only to have them hold fast, keeping her torso pinned firmly to the wooden surface. With a dark chuckle of amusement, Draco pulled away from her slightly, trailing his hands along the curve of her back as he straightened. One hand curled possessively around her hip, the fingers pressing into her soft flesh with bruising force as the other gripped the base of his cock as he positioned himself behind her.
The head of his cock slipped between her folds with the aid of a muttered lubrication spell and pushed into her with a sharp twinge of pain. Hermione inhaled through her teeth as Draco thrust his hips forward quickly, tearing her flesh as he sheathed himself inside of her. A fresh trail of tears wound their way silently down her cheeks as the blond wizard leaned down along her back and tangled his fingers once again in her hair. Snapping her head back with a hard yank of his arm, he placed a disturbingly gentle kiss against one tear-stained cheek.
“Were you a virgin, Hermione,” he asked, almost caressing her name as he spoke it, although she could still see a wicked gleam in his grey eyes as he waited for her response. When she remained stubbornly silent, he thrust his hips against her once with almost violent force, causing her lips to peel back slightly from the gag as she cried out in a mixture of pain and surprise. “I think that's a yes,” he taunted, leaning in to brush his lips along her jaw and delighting in the subtle tremble it caused in her.
He began to move within her at a moderate pace, each thrust still sending a faint spasm of pain through her as his mouth found a sensitive patch of skin behind her ear. “What a shame Weasley never got to feel that tight cunt before he died,” Draco whispered maliciously, the force of his hand in her hair increasing when she jerked violently beneath him. The gag in her mouth muffled the words she attempted to shriek at him, and he forced her face roughly against the wooden surface of the desk as he thrust his cock up into her more roughly.
“You think he's still alive, do you?” he asked, straightening slightly as he pinned Hermione's face to his desk, the fingers of his other hand pressing more firmly into the flesh of her hip until he could see bruises beginning to form beneath them. “You think he'd still want you now, if he was, Mudblood? After you've taken my cock like a common whore?” Draco's breathing became heavier as he continued pounding himself into her, ignoring the whimpers that slipped past Hermione's gag as he claimed her roughly. What fight she'd had left in her seemed to be fading as Draco's cock slammed into her and caused her hipbones to be pounded into the desk with enough force to begin bruising them.
Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she focused on attempting to stop the flow of her tears, but found it to be a useless endeavour. When Draco finally began to slow and ultimately withdrew from her aching pussy, Hermione felt a flicker of hope that the ordeal was over until he came around the desk to stand in front of her. His cock was still fully erect and the head was only a few inches from her lips, still slick from his lubricating charm and leaking precum.
Without bothering to retrieve his wand, Draco reached into Hermione's hair to pull the buckle of the gag in her mouth free, tearing it from between her lips and tossing it to the ground. “If you dare bite me, you'll find yourself in more pain than you could imagine,” he warned, the expression in his eyes leaving no question to the seriousness of his words. Taking a handful of her hair, he tilted her head back enough to slide his cock between her lips until his full length was wrapped in the wet heat of her mouth.
He didn't order her to suck or lick him as he thrust himself in and out of her mouth, allowing his cock to fill her throat until she choked on it and turned her brown eyes to his face in a silent plea for air. The pace of his thrusts quickened as he began nearing the end, and Hermione could feel his cock flexing in her mouth just moments before he pulled away. For another blissful moment, she thought that he had finished with her, until the first spray of his come splashed against her cheek.
Hermione closed her eyes again, out of humiliation, as Draco groaned above her, watching the thin ropes of white glisten against her skin. Draco tucked his flaccid cock back into his trousers when he had finished, fastening them again before stepping back around behind the desk. His finger curled through the ring at the back of her collar, tugging on it firmly once as he withdrew his wand from one pocket and released the spellwork that kept her bound to the desk.
“Haven't you had your fill of me yet?” she spat, narrowing her eyes at him as she was yanked to her feet. The corner of Draco's lips twitched in amusement and he pulled Hermione closer, grabbing the wrist that came up to slap him with one hand.
“Nowhere near, my little pet. But I am through with you for now, and I am not so foolish as to leave you free to roam, when I cannot monitor you.” Twisting Hermione's arm behind her back, he used it to forcefully guide her towards a nearby open doorway.
The dim lighting inside revealed nothing, except for bare walls and floor, and a single iron cage tucked in one corner of the room. It was larger than that of an animal, but not spacious enough to be anywhere near comfortable, although that didn't stop Draco from pushing Hermione through its opened gate. She lost her footing as she stepped onto the smooth metal sheet inside and turned in a desperate attempt to rush at him, but Draco slammed the barred door closed before she could. It locked immediately with a loud click that echoed slightly in the room, and her captor gave her one more satisfied smirk as he stepped back away from the cage.
“Enjoy your new home, Mudblood. Until you learn to behave yourself, you'll be seeing quite a lot of it.”