Work Text:
Scream for Me
Her fork scraped against the plate as she pushed around a piece of grilled English sausage. Molly had cooked up quite the spread for Ron’s birthday. Creamy, garlic mashed potatoes that normally would have been inhaled. Roasted red tomatoes with sautéed onions and cabbage beside the tray of sausages. There was a giant bowl of minted peas right in front of Lavender fucking Brown.
A casual friend of Ginny’s.
A prior classmate of Hermione’s.
A close co-worker of Ron’s.
A woman who has been sleeping with her boyfriend behind her back for the past six months. It was rubbish that she was even sitting here at the table, smiling and laughing like nothing was wrong. Hermione wasn’t buying into the ‘don’t blame the witch, blame the wizard’ ideology either.
Fuck Lavender for knowingly sleeping with a taken wizard.
Fuck Ronald for throwing away a five year relationship because he couldn’t handle her going to MACUSA for a six month internship, and couldn’t keep his bloody cock to himself.
She was stewing in her anger, having vented to it a colleague at work about it early. Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a better friend than Ginny when it came to the cheating boyfriend news. Ginny had merely laughed and smiled, brushing her off when told the story.
‘Ron wouldn’t do that. He’s loved you since he was a kid. You know how Neville gets after 3 shots of fire whiskey. He could mistake a goblin for Fleur. I doubt it was Ron he saw being dragged into the bathroom at the Leaky Cauldron with Lavendar.’
Did she forget that Ron had dated Lavender first?
Maybe if she had paid more attention—No. Hermione scowled to herself. We are not self-sabotaging and blaming ourselves for the actions of a stupid, moronic, skirt chasing wizard.
“Hermione?” Molly inquired from a few chairs down, “Is the food alright? You’ve barely eaten. I hope you don’t fancy only American food now.”
Everyone at the table laughed, but it was Lavender who added, “I could never imagine leaving all my friends for six months. I’d miss everyone too much.”
That earned her the fakest smile Hermione could muster, “I’m going to grab some containers from the kitchen and package my plate up.”
Ginny tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you really not hungry?”
“I am, but I know Lavender’s a fan of leftovers, so I thought I’d send her home with some.” She replied cheerfully, scooting back the chair hard enough that it made a screeching noise against the hardwood. “Excuse me.”
Hermione left the dining area, walking into the kitchen. They’d saved and put money into a nice flat in London, a few blocks from Whitehall. She’d spent the extra money for this place in particular because there was an entire wall of glass that peered into the kitchen, and provided her a quaint view of the garden outside.
A garden that was typically illuminated by lanterns.
Magical lanterns.
Yet as she stared out towards her garden, everything was draped in shadows and darkness. Why would—
“Hey, is everything okay?”
Ginny.
Ripping her gaze away from the garden reluctantly, Hermione shrugged. “Everything’s fine.”
“Are you still upset about what Neville told you?” Ginny crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Listen, I think you should have an honest conversation with Ron before you—”
Hermione made an indignant noise, “Look, Gin, thank you for your advice, but this has been a long time coming. Even without him cheating on me—”
“You planned to break up with him anyway?” The witch straightened, “Were you planning to do it on his birthday?”
“Do what on my birthday?” This time it was Ron.
Oh good. Add in a few more Weasley’s and it’d be a whole family reunion… Minus one of course. Before she could break things off on the spot, the phone started to ring. Hermione had never been so thankful for the Muggle invention, but gestured for Ron and Ginny to go back into the dining room.
“Nothing. This might take a while, my parents mentioned earlier about giving me a ring to ask about—”
“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Come on, Gin. Food’s gonna get cold and you know how Mum gets.” Ron interrupted, not unkindly.
It was something Ron did that irritated her before, but now it made her cheeks warm with genuine anger. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say and clearly didn’t care. What had caused her to fall for this man in the first place?
An undiagnosed form of Cerebrumous Spattergroit that clouded her judgement?
Honestly, it was a relief she hadn’t caught anything from him if he’d been sleeping around their whole relationship.
RIIIING RIIIING RIIIIING
She reached towards the cordless landline, pressing the talk icon with an inward sigh. “Hello?” There was silence. She tried again, “Hello? Who is this?”
“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.”
Hermione’s eyebrows drew together, refusing to deal with prank calls on Halloween, “Your worst nightmare. Now don’t call me again.” She clicked the ‘off’ button, about to rejoin the others when the phone rang again.
Picking it up, she didn’t need to say anything because he spoke almost immediately, “That wasn’t very nice, little nightmare. You didn’t even let me tell you my name.”
“Who said that I cared?”
“You don’t?”
His voice was rich and smooth, a mix of honey and sin that had her pressing the phone closer to her ear. “…What’s your name?”
“Aw, you do care.” The mockery in his tone had her eyes narrowing, “So, you gotta boyfriend?”
Two can play that game, motherfucker. “Why?” Her tone was scornful with a light undertone of contempt. “You wanna ask me out?”
“Maybe.” His voice turned coy, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Hermione turned her head, glancing towards the open doorway that would lead to a dining room full of people she didn’t want to talk to right now. She felt like a stranger in her own home when it was not only her boyfriend, but one of her oldest friends’ birthday. She should be wanting to make sure this night goes perfectly and at the end of it all, have some great Birthday Sex. Ron barely turned her on when they were in a good place, if she were to fuck him now—she’d probably need to invest in an unnecessary amount of lube.
“Not for much longer.” She admitted, turning back towards the glass wall leading to the backyard, “Why? And why did you want to know my name?”
His next words made ice flood her veins.
“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”
Maybe… Maybe she heard him wrong. “What did you say?”
“I want to know who I’m talking to.”
Uneasiness was a plague that had touched her and now spread through her at a rapid rate. Terror infected her, causing her to look away from the glass for fear she’d see someone looking back. It frightened her to say it, but she knew what she’d heard. “That’s not what you said.”
“What do you think I said, little nightmare?”
Nope. Not playing that game. His voice might sound devastatingly attractive, but she didn’t feel like becoming a statistic tonight, “I have to go.”
“Don’t—”
Click.
…That was odd. Shaking her head once, Hermione put the incident behind her. It was some Muggle playing a weird joke. No need to fret over it. She had more important things to ponder over like how to break up her serious, long-term relationship with Ronald Weasley on his birthday because fuck him.
The sound of more of Lavender’s laughter had her wanting to commit murder. It was a sign that she needed to use the bathroom as an excuse, if only to get away for a little bit longer. She placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder, murmuring to him that she’d be right back, and that she had to use the loo. He’d nodded distractedly, more focused on how Lavender had leaned forward, and was showing her cleavage.
Had she always been like this?
Had Ron always been so dismissive?
Anger fueled her as she hurried up the steps to go to the Master bathroom. It might have been slightly underhanded, but she’d only put her name on the deed when things were signed. Ron was busy and she didn’t care to go through extra hoops if he didn’t want to be at the signing when they bought their flat.
“He’s such a bloody w—”
Not a second after she’d crossed the threshold into their bedroom, the door closed behind her with an audible noise. Not loud enough to alarm the crowd downstairs, but enough to cause her to hastily turn around. She hadn’t turned on the light yet, but there was plenty of moonlight streaming in through the glass double doors which led to the balcony. But it was enough to see what was in the room with her.
Hermione took a staggered step back as she stared at the towering figure. By the height and build, she assumed it was a man. He was wearing a hooded, black robe that blended in with the darkness—almost harmonizing with the shadows if not for the Halloween mask he wore. White with elongated black holes for the eyes, nose, and mouth.
“W-Who are you?” Her voice wavered as silver glinted in the moonlight.
Fuck. He had a blade—a long knife of some sort that looked like it could gut her as easily as any severing charm could.
“You can call me whatever you’d like, little nightmare.”
Her eyes widened. “You.”
“Me.” He took a step forward, pointing the blade towards her, “Hanging up on someone is very rude. I didn’t appreciate that.”
Her temper flared and she went to accio her wand, only finding that there must have been anti-magic wards placed in the room because she might as well have been flailing her hand out for no reason. Where the fuck was her wand? It was typically on the nightstand. Did this mean he was a wizard? Had he done something to the room?
“And what do you call entering someone’s home without permission? Cornering someone in their bedroom and pointing a weapon at them?”
The masked wizard tapped the pointed tip of the knife against his cheek pensively, “Humanitarianism?”
Hermione blinked, “What would all this have to do with promoting human welfare?”
“For one,” He took another step closer towards her, “The tosser downstairs has been treating you terribly. He’s cheated on you, lied to people about you, and doesn’t appreciate you in the slightest bit. I’m here to rectify that situation.”
Okay. Ouch.
If a random masked stranger was telling her these things, then she must have been a real fool when it came to Ronald Weasley. She’d never considered herself stupid, but now she felt like the biggest moron on the planet.
“Why is that any of your business?”
“That’s the million galleon question, isn’t it?” No doubt a wizard then. “On your knees, little nightmare.”
On her— “Are you insane? What makes you think I would—“
Quick as a Zouwu, he was standing in front of her with the blade of his knife pointed against her throat. She stiffened when he leaned forward. He smelt like eucalyptus and spearmint.
Spearmint.
A quick flash of Sixth Year potion’s class erupted in a series of memories flickering through her mind. Hermione’s suspicion only solidified when she heard him subtly lift the corner of his mask and whisper next to her ear, “Pansy and I have always been close friends. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about how long its been? Tsk, Granger. A year? I wouldn’t let you go a week without sinking my cock inside you and making you sit on my face.”
The mask slid back into place as he straightened. He lifted the blade, but this time she didn’t flinch. She felt the sharp point trail from her cheekbone down the side of her neck, where it travelled to the dip in her white, cardigan. She felt the blade scrape lightly across the swell of her left breast. He applied pressure to drag the fabric down, revealing the white lace of her brassiere.
He went still, his voice so low she figured it was an unintentional slip, “Beautiful.” Louder, his voice was praising. This time he meant what he said. “You are stunning, my little nightmare.”
There was only one person on the Earth who could always make her blush with the use of her last name. The internship in America had been to get rid of the illicit feelings she was starting to have for her rival intern at the Ministry. Now everything was back in full force and she was prey to the role-play. A doll in his hands that wanted to be toyed with.
“I am not yours.” She bit out as he began to circle her. Hermione went to turn when he pressed the blade into the small of her back. Any movement and it would pierce through her sweater with ease. “What do you want?”
He chuckled quietly. “I already told you. On your knees… Or else.”
Hermione swallowed. The room was deathly silent, but she could faintly hear the sound of chatter coming from downstairs as it slipped underneath the door. She knew who he was now and because of that, she had the intrinsic knowledge that if she didn’t want any of this; all it would take was to tell him. Stop. S-T-O-P. One word, four letters, and he would be gone.
But the fact of the matter was that she didn’t want him to stop. Hermione wanted him more than someone lost in the desert wanted to see an Augury. More than a Sailor needed the stars to navigate.
One at a time, she slowly fell down to her knees with the masked wizard standing behind her. Her blood was roaring in her ears as she submitted, waiting to see what he’d do. Another low chuckle escaped him and Hermione felt her long hair being gathered. She felt the tension as she leaned her head back and saw the briefest flash of white-blond hair. His mask was slightly adjacent, no doubt wanting to get the best vantage point of her kneeling for him. She almost flinched when she felt the cool blade of the knife against her throat.
The masked wizard could slit her throat right now and she’d choke on her own blood before she could swallow down a healing potion.
“How does it feel to be upset about your boyfriend cheating on you while you’re on your knees for another man in the bedroom you both share?” He cooed, a hint of scorn there. The sharp end of the blade pressed closer, forcing her eyes to close as she waited for the moment he did cut her, “Tell me, little nightmare. Has he ever made you scream?”
Hermione’s eyes opened half-way, trying to see him, but his face was in the shadows with his back towards the balcony. “Not in the way you’re insinuating.”
Letting go of her hair, he slid the mask back into place, but didn’t move the knife from her throat, “It would be a pity if he couldn’t hear you at least once before you broke up.” She shivered at the thought of what he could be implying, “But here’s the thing. You won’t be screaming for him. I want you to Scream For Me, my little nightmare. Can you do that for me?”
She grabbed his wrist, pushing him and the knife away, but her words were at war with her actions, “Make me.”
A growl of invitation rumbled against his chest and before Hermione could scramble to her feet, he was there grabbing her ankles, pushing them apart so that she fell onto her back. He kneeled between her legs, using the tip of his blade to slice his way through the front of her shirt.
Her nipples hardened when they were exposed to the cold air and she realized that he’d cut through her bralette too. She went to cover her chest, but he dropped the knife to grab her wrists until he could manage with one hand to pin them above her head. He reached for his mask, cocking it slightly to the side again to reveal a wicked, feral grin.
Arching her back, trying to fight him; it was a lost cause almost immediately. That did nothing, but practically offer her breasts to him.
And he didn’t hesitate.
Soft, warm lips wrapped around her left nipple, and she gasped. His tongue circled the sensitive peak, hinting to her that he could make her come so hard if given the chance to lick her cunt. Hermione turned her head, muffling a moan as he sucked, allowing his teeth to scrape against her nipple before releasing it. She almost wanted to tell him not to stop, but then that would have ruined the fantasy. He blew softly, forcing a shiver out of her.
The masked wizard did the same to the other, but when she wiggled underneath him—sliding her knee to press against his groin—he bit her nipple hard enough to make her cry out.
For a few, painstakingly quiet moments; she wondered if Ron or someone else had heard her downstairs. It didn’t sound like the chatter had died down and the one creaky step on their staircase didn’t make any noise so she assumed everything was fine. While she had been listening, she hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to what the wizard was doing until it was too late.
RIPPPPPPP
Her eyes widened, not solely from fear, but anticipation and surprise too. She could see that he’d dragged his tongue along his bottom lip and was now biting it in anticipation like he was unwrapping the perfect present. He slid down her jeans and she wondered what he was thinking.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Am I going to find you soaking at the thought of me fucking you, little nightmare?” He inquired brashly, throwing her jeans to the side of the room, “How greedy is this cunt for my cock?”
“Fuck you.” Her lip curled up, pushing herself up to a sitting position now that her hands were free, “I…”
Her words were died on her tongue as he pressed the pad of his thumb against the dampness of her lace underwear. He knew exactly how wet she was, rubbing the fabric, but not using the pressure she needed. It took every ounce of self-control that she had not to squirm in the off chance he could brush against her clit. “—Want me?” The mask was back in place, but she could hear his ever mocking tone, “Want to fuck me? Want me to make you scream? You are such a terrible fucking liar. Liars don’t get rewarded.”
Her heart was pounding even louder, if that was possible. Like her will, it felt like it could give out any moment now. “What do liars get then?”
Again, the mask was there, but she could swear she felt his excitement rise to her challenge. The unhinged grin she’d seen earlier had to be spreading across his face now.
“Stabbed.”
Lace moved to the side, Hermione let out a startled noise when she felt the hilt of the blade pressing against her opening. She jumped, “Will that…?”
“Won’t hurt you.” His words were solemn and firm, unyielding in the way that gold differed. Gold was malleable and could melt. He was tungsten, stronger than Goblin Silver—what was considered magically indestructible—and while he was burning with fervor. He wouldn’t bend to her will. He would make her bend to his. “Not like he has and never physically. Unless you ask me to. I’ve been dying to spank you since you hung up on me.”
She suspected that it was far longer than that. His yearning was given away by his erection growing hard against the soft, cloaked fabric. Hermione wanted to touch him, to see if all the times she’d spent fantasizing about him at her desk had done any justice.
Maybe she wasn’t better than Ron.
Maybe they had never been the right person for each other.
But if she’d been more certain about her feelings for her rival and not so convinced that they were never a possibility—she would have ended things with Ron a long time ago. She’d never known or let herself dream that he yearned. That he wanted her as terribly as she’d wanted him in every capacity of the word.
All thoughts of wasted time left her as he pressed the hilt of the knife deeper inside her. It didn’t feel bad, but it wasn’t enough. There was barely any friction and that was because she was soaked for him—and he was right.
Right about everything.
Her greedy cunt wanted his cock. A half-whine fell from her lips at the thought and he let out a tsk. “This isn’t a reward, little nightmare.”
“Then maybe I should go back downstairs to my boyfriend.” She snapped, though there was little anger behind it. “I bet he—” She gasped as the knife was pulled out of her and now he was straddling her hips with the blade against her lips.
She didn’t move for fear that it would cut her lip.
“You bet he would…” It was somewhere between a growl and a husky snarl, “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me again. What did I hear you telling Pansy earlier?” He answered his own question with a sharpness to his velvet voice that made the knife against her face feel dull, “He didn’t make you happy. The thought of being in a stable relationship did. He couldn’t make you come. That vibrator I found in your nightstand did. He didn’t love you and you sure as fuck didn’t love him because you wouldn’t be so fucking turned on right now if that was the case. You never loved him, you loved the idea of being in love.”
The knife moved from her mouth to her cheek where it caught one of her tears. His words both destroyed and enlightened her to the truths she’d known all along. The wizard brought the blade up to his mouth where he moved the mask only enough for her to see him drag his tongue against the blade. He was tasting her tears.
But that wasn’t all he wanted.
His tongue slid down the black handle, tasting her.
And he fucking groaned.
Hermione felt her cunt clench around nothing and that was a tragedy in itself. She whimpered as he cleaned the hilt off like she was the sweetest ambrosia, wrapping his lips around the blunt end. “Please…”
He stopped and she realized what she’d said out loud. “Say it again.” She swallowed, but didn’t speak up. His lip curled, “Beg me. Say you want me.”
As much as I want you.
The phantom words were in the air. Soft and pining, but his demeanor was still hard and demanding. Hermione did what she considered the next best thing. In one fluid motion, she rolled onto her stomach. She braced herself onto her forearms and lifted her arse in the air.
Confidence swelled inside her at the quiet catch of his breath. He’d snuck into her flat to have sex with her and despite being this soft yet dominating wizard—he still made her feel as if she was something to be revered.
She turned her head, catching sight of him unbuckling his belt with one hand whilst the other reached forward towards her arse. He palmed her cheek, before sliding his hand somewhere unexpected. Hermione had jumped when his finger dragged along her slick heat, but then he’d gone up to her other entrance.
Using her arousal, he circled the tight ring. “I am going to have so much fun filling you everywhere I can.” He pushed in, halfway to his knuckle before he let out a wicked laugh, “So much fun.”
“Hermione?”
Oh fuck. Horror swept through her and she went to scramble up, but he caught her by the hips. She turned her head, glowering before she hissed under her breath, “Malfoy.”
The crown of his cock nudged against her slit as he covered the tip in her wetness. She tensed as the realization of what they were about to do with Ron on the other side of the door. No. He couldn’t—
But he did.
And Hermione had to bite her hand as he entered her.
“Hermione, where did you go?” Ron called out, the creaking of the steps indicating that he was close.
Malfoy was thicker than the hilt of the knife and she felt every ridge as his cock rubbed against her inner walls. He grunted quietly as she clenched around him. She’d been arching her back, but now Malfoy pressed down between her shoulder blades to put her at his mercy. She wanted to fucking moan when his hand gripped the back of her neck, forcing her against the ground.
“Hermione!” Annoyance bled into her boyfriend’s voice. It only got worse when the doorknob jiggled and he was unable to open it. “Alohomora.” Nothing. His knuckled rapped against the door as he called out for her again, “Hermione, is everything okay? Everyone’s wondering where you went off to.”
“Everything’s f-fine!” She’d begun and cursed when Malfoy pulled out only to piston his hips forward and make her take the full length of his cock on only the second stroke. It was sinful pleasure and if this was her ticket to hell; she’d gladly take a front row seat. “My stomach hurts is all!”
Pressing his fingers into the indentation at her hips, Hermione covered her mouth as his pace rapidly picked up. He was enjoying the noises she tried to smother, wanting to draw on them and figure out for himself what made her legs shake. Draco Malfoy was dressed and acting like a serial killer while railing her in the bedroom where her and her boyfriend have slept for the past five years… with her boyfriend, his family, their friends, and the girl he cheated on her with all under the same roof.
This was probably the best Halloween of her life.
Did that make her insane? That’s fine. If she went to therapy for this, then she wouldn’t be funny anymore.
“Do you want me to grab a wiggenweld from the kitchen? I didn’t think you ate that much food, but I guess it’s a good thing since you’ve put on recently.”
Malfoy’s hips stuttered. He froze and embarrassment swept through Hermione so immensely that she wanted to cry. The door swung open and Ron’s face morphed from misplaced concern to horror at the scene in front of him.
His girlfriend on her hands and knees while a masked man fucked her from behind. Of course he immediately thought it wasn’t consensual and drew his wand, entering the room. “Av—”
The door shut behind him and Malfoy snapped his hips forward, pushing deep inside her. At the same time, Ron was thrown against the wall, his wand disarmed, and she saw it snap itself into two broken pieces.
“Do you see how well she takes my cock?” His praise made her back arch until he could pound into her cunt, and she could feel his balls slapping against her cunt. It should have exerted him and yet he spoke with such ease that she knew he would ruin her, “Do you see how bloody perfect she is? Her soft skin. These hips I can’t stop myself from touching. This beautiful, perfect body that was made for me? Don’t get me started on her mind, I’ll fucking come if I think about how brilliant she is.”
She was about to come from how he spoke about her.
Hermione was done being quiet, letting out a moan that told both her soon to be ex and soon to be partner how much she really enjoyed this.
Ron gaped, “You’re fucking enjoying this?! You’re a cheater—”
“Shut the fuck up. You’ve been fucking Lavender and I’ve finally found someone that knows what a clit is.” She’d added the latter part because Malfoy had reached around to start rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves. The erotic act of fucking her in front of her current partner must have been so satisfying for him. She mewled as he pinched her clit, stopping the blood flow and the orgasm which had been building inside her. “Please,” She begged, not caring about Ron in the slightest whilst Malfoy held her pleasure captive, “Please let me come.”
Malfoy let go, an approving hum filling the air. “Hear that? My little nightmare wants to come. Should I let her?”
“Do whatever you want with her.” Ron snarled, struggling against an invisible force, “She’s nothing to me.”
Ouch.
“Good.” Malfoy retorted, circling the tip of his finger around her other entrance, applying a maddening pressure against it, “It’s a balance. She’s nothing to you. She’s everything to me. You’re nothing to her. And I will make sure she never wants for anything.”
It was a tidal wave that washed over her. The current of emotions pulled her in, drowning her in seas of pleasure and ecstasy that no seasoned sailor could navigate. The combination of his raw honesty, his adoring sentiments, and brutal fucking ravaged her body and mind.
Hermione’s vision went blinding as she came, squeezing his cock so hard that Malfoy made a choking noise, and his thrusts faltered before he came too. Right before it, he’d started to pull out, but she threw her arse against his groin; impaling herself on him. He’d moaned, leaning over to bite down on her shoulder as he emptied his cum inside her. Warmth spread across her chest and face as she felt ropes of his hot release splash against her. She was so fucking full at the end of it and her body was too limp to move away.
There was rustling behind her and she heard Ron’s quick inhale while he pulled out his cock. Hermione let a lewd moan slip, feeling their combined release slide down her inner thighs. Already, she knew her legs would be sore and she likely had bruises forming on her knees.
“Malfoy.”
Hermione covered her chest as she sat back on her legs, noticing that Malfoy had taken off his mask. A few locks of hair were plastered against his forehead, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face. His grey eyes had a feral glint as he pulled his trousers back up, but didn’t bother buckling his belt.
“You know what the great thing is about her being the Wizarding World’s Golden Girl?” Malfoy inquired, walking over to where Ron was magically bound. He crouched down, using the same knife that had been inside her to press against the redhead’s throat. “No one is going to suspect a thing. As far as she knows, someone had broken into her flat, and she’d tried to save you.”
Hermione watched with rapt interest as he built their alibi in real time.
“And you know what the great thing is about you being nothing more than Harry Potter’s dumb friend?” Ron’s eyes steeled with hatred and resentment at the impact of hitting an old wound, Malfoy let out a low laugh. “No one will be surprised when you tried to cast a spell and it backfired so terribly, that you make Gilderoy Lockhart’s blunder look like a blessing.” He tilted his head to look towards her, “Would you like to do the honors, Hermione?”
The witch smiled at the sound of her name in his voice. “I would… Draco…”
Whereas she was shy—surprising considering they’d skipped an immeasurable amount of steps before dating—he was proud of her. He held out her wand to her, no doubt having hid it until this very moment.
Hermione shared his grin, knowing there was no going back. She placed the tip of her wand against Ron’s temple, scrambling and destroying his memories whilst Malfoy repaired her clothes. He helped her put them on, all while detailing how she’d been attacked in her flat, and Ron had interrupted the attacker from stealing some precious spell books Hermione had in a nearby bookcase.
“We’ve got to make it believable, Granger.” He winked, “I need you to play the victim of a horrendous crime.”
A slow, wicked smile played on her face. “Then let’s make sure there’s not witnesses. Having his memories obliviated aren’t enough for me.”
Draco closed the distance, slitting Ron’s neck. Blood immediately started pouring from his throat, causing Ron to grab his throat. The artery Draco had cut into spurted blood between the cracks in his fingers. His black costume was sprayed with blood as well as the side of his face.
Hermione watched as Ron struggled to breathe, knowing that this changed things. Forever. She would be tied to Draco forever because of what they’d just done.
Speaking of the devil incarnate, he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers in a chaste kiss. His tongue forced its way to slide against hers, but before she could truly enjoy it; he was pulling away.
“Scream, my little nightmare. And then when the Aurors are gone and you don’t want to stay in the house your ex-boyfriend was fatally wounded in; you’re going to take the Floo to Malfoy Manor. And I’m going to feast upon that pretty cunt because I didn’t have the opportunity to earlier.”
Hermione bit her lip, eyes glazed over with desire. “Will you wear the mask again?”
Draco tilted her chin up, gazing straight into her eyes, “I will do anything you want me to. You are my favorite nightmare, Hermione Granger. And I don’t ever want to wake up.”
A blink later, he was gone. But she could still feel the ghost of him inside her. His cum was still dripping out of her. She smiled.
And then she did what he’d wanted her to do all along.
She screamed.