Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8572276.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Draco_Malfoy
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Draco_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      D/s_kind_of_relationship, it's_not_a_relationship_really, beware_of_the
      rape_warning, Non-Consensual_Touching, Graphic_Rape/Non-Con,
      Submissive!Hermione, dominant!Draco, HBP_AU, Canon_Divergence, it's_a
      really_twisted_story, sorry_for_that, Smut, First_Time, Deflowering,
      trigger_warning, why_do_I_always_write_dark_stuff, How_Do_I_Tag_This, I'm
      Sorry
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-11-16 Words: 2773
****** Pitch Black ******
by Lady_Tragedy
Summary
     “I apologize... Master Draco.” She spitted the word out, its
     unfamiliar taste still enough to make her feel uncomfortable. “How
     can I make up to you for this fault in my behaviour?”
     Heat and shame blended together as she finished talking, and settled
     low inside her stomach. She looked up shyly between her eyelashes,
     locking her eyes with Malfoy’s beautifully grey ones and letting the
     lust and humilliation she felt to be shown raw in her eyes, waiting.
     Then Malfoy reached down to grab a handful of her hair and yanked her
     up roughly, securing his other arm firmly around her waist. The
     mischevious spark in his eyes made her mouth water, and suddenly her
     mind was consumed with one simple thought: To please Draco, and serve
     him, and be his... for as long as the Tempus charm remained silent.
Notes
     This is... a something I can't even remember why I wanted to write,
     I'm sorry in advance because it depicts a totally surreal situation,
     but also it's mostly an excercise for my smut writting. Comments and
     chritics are very much apreciated.
See the end of the work for more notes
The first time she submitted, it was more a matter of survival than actual
pleasure.
 
Hermione found herself inside the Room of Requirement in a desperate attempt to
give Harry and Professor Dumbledore more time. Something was definitely going
to happen that night and she had to delay it somehow, she had to find a way.
 
She had to. Everyone was counting on it.
 
As soon as Harry had left the Gryffindor Tower and Ron had run to find Ginny
and Luna to give them their share of Felix felicis, Hermione had slipped out
too and had run to the only place she had known she’d find him.
 
Certainly, going to Draco Malfoy without a clear plan in mind had been a call
for disaster on Hermione’s part, but she hadn’t had enough time to think about
it. The only thing that mattered in her panicked mind was to occupy the room
for long enough that Malfoy couldn’t do whatever he was meaning to do tonight,
or at least until Professor Dumbledore came back.
 
If he wanted to fight, she would fight him. If he wanted to run, she would
chase him. And in the off chance he wanted to talk... well, Hermione thought
herself smart enough to entertain his mortal enemy for at least a couple hours.
 
Not that she wanted to talk, no matter how insistent the diplomat in her was.
Draco Malfoy wasn’t one to budge by sheer force of speech.
 
“It doesn’t hurt to try, though.” She had thought right before entering the
Room of Requirement and finding herself lost in a pitch black darkness.
 
Now, the memory of her naivety made her wince. How childish of her to believe
that she, on her own, could fool a Death Eater (even if it was indeed a young
one). How reckless of her to leave the Tower without telling anyone else where
she was going. And how very, very innocent of her to believe that the worst
thing Draco Malfoy could do was to send a few hexes towards her.
 
Not that she could do anything about that now.
 
“Granger!” Malfoy’s harsh exclamation jerked her out of her reminiscence. “Do
the favor to pay attention when I’m giving you an order! Jeez, you insufferable
Gryffindor.”
 
Hermione bowed her head and straightened her back, trying to make her kneeling
position more elegant and dignified to show her regret at having spaced out in
the presence of her Master. The already usual flare of shame and guilt burned
her guts, spreading a faint blush over her cheeks and neck.
 
“I apologize... Master Draco.” She spitted the word out, its unfamiliar taste
still enough to make her feel uncomfortable. “How can I make up to you for this
fault in my behaviour?”
 
Heat and shame blended together as she finished talking, and settled low inside
her stomach. She looked up shyly between her eyelashes, locking her eyes with
Malfoy’s beautifully grey ones and letting the lust and humilliation she felt
to be shown raw in her eyes, waiting.
 
Then Malfoy reached down to grab a handful of her hair and yanked her up
roughly, securing his other arm firmly around her waist. The mischevious spark
in his eyes made her mouth water, and suddenly her mind was consumed with one
simple thought: To please Draco, and serve him, and be his... for as long as
the Tempus charm remained silent.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
The inside of the Room of Requirement was pitch black. It was so dark, in fact,
that Hermione thought for a second that maybe she had gone blind.
 
After casting aFinite Incantatemand some other diagnostic spells that could
tell her if there was something magical blocking the light inside the room,
Hermione’s senses became acute enough for her to make out the sound of another
breathing not too far away from her.
 
She walked slowly and carefully towards the sound, thinking perhaps she had
found some kind of creature that was already guarding the place, likeFluffy.
When she was about two feet away from the sound, a smell like green limes and
lavender filled her nose, and she instantly understood that there was no
magical creature, nor help, nor protection before her.
 
Even with that thought in mind, the smell was so attractive that she couldn’t
stop moving, not even when a pair of strong, thin hands found her and dragged
her close, all the time groping at her curves, her lower back, and finally her
face.
 
A startled gasp broke the silence, and the next thing she knew, there was
wetness over her mouth, and a jolt of pleasure made her arch against the
unknown chest that pressed her back onto the wall when an intrusive tongue
caressed the back of her teeth.
 
Hermione fought against the mist fogging her brain, but both the intoxicating
smell of limes and the vicious corporal attack reduced her resolve until it
became smaller than a knut. All the new sensations she was experiencing seemed
to dissolve the world around her, and soon there was no place inside her to
foster thoughts of fear, or Death Eaters, or... Ron.
 
The only things that mattered right now was the impressive force with which the
unknown man (she couldfeelnow his manhood against her hip) had forced her down
to the wooden floor, and the consuming fire that couldn’t be saciated no matter
how hard she returned the kisses, and how fiercely she clawed at the stranger’s
back over his shirt.
 
When the stranger started pulling at her sweater, though, Hermione’s fear came
back full force. What the hell was she doing here, in the middle of the darkest
obscurity, making out with some unknown person right there on the floor? Was
she a dog in heat or something?!
 
“Get a grip Hermione, come on!!”
 
Her thoughts, however, were instantly drowned when the stranger pulled at her
hair, forcing her head back and baring her neck to a rough bite. A loud noise
escaped her throath, closest to a scream than a moan, but that didn’t stop the
stranger.
 
If anything, that only encouraged him to keep biting Hermione’s ears, neck,
shoulders and lips, and she couldn’t find it in herself to fight back. Not now,
when her body felt oddly tense but languid at the same time, and not later,
when the stranger managed to rip her clothes off and started manhandling her
exposed, over-sensitive skin.
 
“I’m going to be raped here, aren’t I?” She asked herself idly, paying only
half mind to it when the stranger’s mouth found her breasts and started
suckling harshly, painfully. It sent an electric shock straight to her groin,
in a way nothing she had known or experimented before had done. “He’s going to
take me against my will and I won’t be able to do anything about it.”
 
The pleasure she felt after that particular thought shook Hermione to her very
core. How could she find pleasure in something like that? It was outrageous!!
No woman should ever feel that way about...rape. How dare she? This situation
was clearly something she didn’t want...
 
Hermione raised her hands to the man’s shoulders, trying with all her might to
push him off of her even though her whole body was trembling from the painful
pleasure the stranger had provoked with his roughness.
 
When the man simply took her wrists with one hand (his hands werereallybig) and
pressed them on the floor over her head, a wave of both relief and resignation
washed over her. Of course, she’d never admit the first one aloud, but at least
her conscience fell silent after that weak attempt at breaking free of his
captor’s skilled hands.
 
As the man pushed her legs wide open using the weight of his hips, she couldn’t
help the eagerness she was trying so hard to hide. The soft skin of her pussy
was wet and achingly sensitive, and she felt the visceral need to befilled. Not
caring about loosing her virginity on the floor of a magical room, and not
rememembering at all what she was supposed to be doing, Hermione welcomed with
another deep kiss the burning feeling of the man’s cock entering her in two
swift stocades.
 
Her lower half felt full, like she had never known it could be. There was a
quiet pain lingering somewhere between her legs, but as the stranger bit her
neck once again, she lost track forever of what was pain and what was pleasure.
They were one and the same, forever blended and forever confused inside the
pitch black darkness that had became Hermione’s whole world.
 
Caged between the man’s arms, chests pressed flush in the tightest embrace they
could manage without stopping the slow, deep thrusts, Hermione felt lost in the
sensations: the sweat, the warmness of his skin, the pain in her legs for being
spread open like that, the building pressure where her flesh encircled his
cock, and the smell of limes that still intoxicated her mind with every ragged
breath she took.
 
The end came too soon for her, her orgasm trapped inside his demanding mouth, a
tidal wave of something she couldn’t describe ripping her soul off her body and
leaving her both numb and overly alert, relaxed and tense, satisfied but
yearning for more. Her pants became moans when he varied the angle and speed of
his thrusts instead of stopping, and as she clawed at the wooden floor for dear
life she realized that he was no longer holding his hands and yet she had kept
them above her head.
 
Suddenly horrified at what had just happened, and kept happening right now,
Hermione tried to kick off the stranger and started crawling towards what she
thought to be the door. A strong hand landed on her head, and pulled her back
again by her hair.
 
Hermione yelped, startled at the spark of arousal that the pull had sent south.
Coming back to her senses, she started struggling again, even though she could
feel the man’s dick hovering dangerously close to her pussy, ready.
 
“No! Not again, please, stop!” She finally managed to yell, her cheek pressed
against the floor by the man’s hand, her legs folded beneath her in a weird
kneeling position that made her feel completely exposed. Defenseless.
 
Aroused.
 
“Is that the way you treat the man who just took your virginity, Granger?” The
man drawled, and Hermione’s blood froze in his veins. She knew that voice.
 
“It can’t be. It can’t. It’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him...”
 
“Although, of course, I much rather this course of action instead of whatever
Potter’s or Weasley’s tactics were.” Malfoy kept talking, tightening his grip
on Hermione’s hair and forcing her hips up in the air, spreading her knees with
his. “If this is your idea of diversion, Granger, I must tell you it worked.
There’s no way in hell I’m completing my task tonight.”
 
Hermione scratched the floor again, trying to inflict herself some kind of pain
as punishment for her stupidity. She had forgotten absolutely about her
mission. She had came here wanting to do something and she had ended up like
this: Kneeling before Malfoy with his dick pressing against her pussy, face
flat against the floor after being fucked for the first time in her life.
 
Deflowered.
 
When she was about to burst with rage, Malfoys cool voice interrupted her.
“Tell you what, Granger. I believe you are masochist material, if your prior
reactions were anything to go by.” With no warning, he pushed inside her
abruptly, and she shouted out in pain before unconsciously wriggling her hips
to rut against him before she could stop herself. “Yeah... I thought so.” At
least his voice sounded strained, Hermione thought. Somehow that helped her
feel better. “Let’s make a deal right now, right here. I’ll give you
information on the Dark Lord, and in exchange you’ll submit to me for a certain
time each week. How does that sound?”
 
“Awful, that’s how that sounds, you bloody prick.”
 
She was opening her mouth to say exactly that when a distinct sound of wood
over fabric made her freeze. It seemed like that bastard was prepared to hex
her if she refused. MaybeObliviateher. And if he did so, then she’d be
vulnerable to him if he ever tried to approach her again.
 
A harsh thrust got another involuntary moan out of her, and when she tried to
lift herself up on her elbows a loud slap echoed in the darkness. “Did I tell
you to rise?”
 
Hermione knew then that she was lost, and there was nothing she could or wanted
to do to get out of this. So she did what the situation demanded.
 
She submitted.
 
“30 minutes,” she said, voice low and regretful. “I’ll give you 30 minutes
every week, and I’ll increase the time 10 more minutes the longer and more
useful your assistance is to bring Voldemort down.”
 
Malfoy’s hands grabbed her hips and lifted them up even more, casually
thrusting in again. Hermione could practically hear him smirking at her, but
she couldn’t care less, right now. Her body was aching, and it felt as if her
groin was on fire every time he moved; if he rejected her offer, she wasn’t
sure she could endure another round without loosing all her ability to think
rationally.
 
Suddenly a rough drawl broke the silence, and Hermione’s train of thought.
“Deal. But from now on, whenever we’re alone, you will call me Master. Are we
clear?”
 
He punctuated his order by forcing Hermione´s back to arch even more with his
right hand, painfully so, while the other one grabbed her left nipple, pinching
it harshly.
 
“Ah!,” Hermione couldn’t help but gasp loudly. She could feel blood rushing all
over her body, and a contradictory feeling of dread and want engulfed her when
reality downed on her.
 
Then Malfoy thrusted again, hard, pulling at her hips. “I said, are we clear?”
 
Hermione couldn’t take it. Swallowing down the tears of shame threatening to
spill from her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the floor and let her
arms rest limp above her head. “Yes, Master.”
 
===============================================================================
 
The Tempuscharm went off and Hermione quickly sprang up from the soft bed where
she had been cuddling Draco after what she thought had been their best session
so far.
 
 
She started putting on her clothes, already planning to take a bath in the
Prefect’s Bathroom before going back to the Gryffindor Tower, when a slim, cold
hand circled her wrist much like their silver shackles had done just half an
hour ago.
 
 
“Are you really going right now?,” was all Draco asked, eyes terribly open and
relaxed. He looked like he didn’t know Hermione was here just to fulfill her
side of the deal. Like he actually saw Hermione as a person instead of the
object of his property they always pretended she was during their time
together.
 
 
Hermione looked away before she could think of more stupid things, like how
Draco almost looked vulnerable on purpose, as if he wanted her to know that he
truly wanted her to stay.
 
 
“The time is over, Draco. Bring me better information next time and you can
keep me here ten more minutes.”
 
 
She hated how her voice sounded so cold and empty, but then again, she wasn’t
here to make friends or... fall in love. She had someone to love, and it
definitely wasn’t a Slytherin Death Eater. Having sex with Draco was simply a
thing she had to do to help win the war, no more.
 
 
“Right,” Draco sighed after a while. He didn’t even bother to look hurt, or
disdainful. He just stayed there, red silken sheets over his waist and silently
looking at Hermione fixing her red and golden tie as if it were the most normal
thing in the world.
 
 
Standing on the treshold, she allowed herself a momment of weakness and looked
back, only to find Draco’s eyes following her with burning intensity. “See you
next time,” Hermione said in the most flat tone she could manage.
 
 
Draco stared at her for two seconds before turning over on the bed and pulling
the blankets to his chin. “Yeah. See you next time, Granger.”
 
 
Hermione exited the room and started walking as fast as she could, her heart
beating happily with the promise to come back even if she’d never admit it at
loud.
 
 
Soon. I’ll come back to you and our pitch black room soon enough... Master.
End Notes
     Also, if you'd like this to be a multichapter series, please let me
     know. I had planned a lot for this AU but I don't know if anyone
     would read it. Anyway, I hope you... like it? Or at least don't hate
     me too much for doing this to Hermione.
     Thank you for reading :)
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