Title: Cry the Beloved Betrayed
Author: Blaze Faula
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: Hard R - NC-17
Summary: Hermione waits for Draco to come to her as he promised, but gets more of him than she expected.
Warnings: non-con (sort of), dark fic
Length: 2441 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything and I bow down to J.K. Rowling for her unbelievable brilliance. Mrs. Rowling I would never make money off your work.

This story isn't beta read yet, but I'm so proud that I finished that I don't really care.



Cry the Beloved Betrayed

He asked her to meet him at precisely half past two in the morning. He was late and it was unusual. Hermione Granger sat on the bed in their usual dingy room…waiting. They had been renting that room in the Leaky Cauldron for months, but it never seemed to become a comfortable place for her. Then again, she reminded herself, nothing about our relationship will be comfortable until this bloody war is over. Nothing.

It was now half past three and she was getting restless. Draco Malfoy still had enough propriety, after all the battles he’d fought and the murders he’d committed, to keep himself on time and her in love with him. Picturing him in her mind, she could see his pressed white shirt, dress pants, slicked back hair, flawless alabaster skin, and silk cloak. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She was restless, no longer getting, but there. The young Gryffindor had not slept in days. Hermione had been given mission after mission for the Order, this being her only break in weeks. All of the members believed they were very close to bringing the war to an end. Dumbledore claimed they had a major advantage and were using it. The result was a group of hope-filled zombies. Sleep, the enemy she was currently evading, was coming for her, and she was losing the battle.

* * *

Dazzling colors surrounded her, the brightest she had ever seen. The grass around the small country house swayed gently in the light breeze, calling to her, beckoning her towards her home.

“Hermione . . .” Her name was called from the house with an urgent tone to it. “Hermione, where are you?”

“I’m coming!” She ran in the direction of the little house she knew so well. She saw it in her imagination everyday. She dreamed each night that after the war ended Draco would go with her to her childhood home and live there forever.

She reached the front door and pushed it open, the scent of daffodils flooded her nostrils and the sound of laughter filled her ears.

“Mommy! Come help me!” Hermione ran as fast as she was able to the living room. The sight before her brought tears of joy to her eyes.

A little girl, with golden bushy hair, was sitting on top of her father’s stomach, laughing like an angel. The man underneath her, sprawled out on his back, looked up at Hermione in mock astonishment.

“She has me in her power,” he cried. “Help me. The only thing that can save me now . . . is a kiss.” He winked and smiled at the little girl who had conquered him.

“I think she’s falling for it, Daddy,” she whispered to him before pretending to punch him in the gut, her father grunting and groaning at the appropriate times.

The little girl continued to giggle as Hermione picked her up off the man and set her aside. “Fear not,” she said. “I shall save him. A kiss is a very powerful thing.” Leaning down to the blonde Adonis, Hermione noticed his eyes were closed, feigning death, and she could not hide the smile that crept over her face. Their lips touched and it seemed to Hermione that their bodies were lifting from the wooden floor. She pulled away and watched his eyes flutter open. The sly smile she had learned to avoid appeared on his face. She tried to jump away, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her beneath him.

“I love you, Hermione. I always have.”

* * *

A touch, soft and secretive, lingered on Hermione's flesh and stirred her. A hooded figure, dark and dangerous, hovered over her, frightening her. The figure darted out a hand to cover her mouth and brought a long, pale finger to his hood, begging her for silence.

"No screaming," he said. "Save your screaming for the battlefield." He released her mouth. It was a voice she knew well. That
voice stirred her passions, comforted her, and chilled her.

"Draco," she asked, "what took you so long? Where have you been?"

"With my father." He lowered his hood to reveal a long cut below his left eye, where blood dripped slowly. "We had a bit of a disagreement."

"I'm glad to know you're alright." She reached out to him, but he pushed her hand away.

"But I'm not, Hermione. I'm anything but alright."

He sat down beside her and stared off into the unknown, the wild taking over once more. In these times Hermione did not know how to help or soothe him, except let Draco battle with himself and hope that the Draco Malfoy she loved would win.

How can I . . ." he gritted out, "possibly ever . . . betray . . . what I love? How can I . . . stay away?" He turned to her now, sliver eyes dark and dilated. "Forgive me . . . Granger."

"Draco, I-"

"Shhhh. No, don't speak. Come here. We don't have much time . . . Darling."

This was their original intention of the night, but now the atmosphere was filled with unease and impatience and something she could not describe. Cold was emanating from his body. She wanted to be warm and away from this stranger. Never before were they about hurried touches and pleasure from nothing. They were about love. This was not love.

She reached out to lift the sheets, to create a barrier between them, but he stopped her.

"No more hiding, Granger. No more hiding at all."

"You're scaring me. I think you should leave."

This seemed to enrage him. “You're scared? I don't want to hear about your pathetic fears, Granger. Come here!"

He grabbed her roughly around the throat and pinned her down to the mattress. It wasn't so much pressure that she couldn't breathe, just enough to keep her down. She wriggled and thrashed beneath him, but she could not free herself. Hermione was trapped by the Serpent.

With his free hand he grabbed her wand from within her robes and tossed it across the room. Her hands pathetically attempted to pry his fingers from her throat.

"Please . . . stop," she whispered hoarsely.

Looking around the room, Hermione tried to find anything she could use to help her, a candlestick, a chair, anything. It hit her suddenly in the midst of her search, his wand. She plunged her hands into his robes and retrieved his wand.

"Petrificus-"

"No!" He snatched the wand from her, with unusual clam, before she could finish the spell. "We'll let it join yours," he hissed and tossed it over his shoulder.

He was ripping her clothes off while tears came to her eyes. Shirts were thrown away, buttons soared through the air, shoes discarded . . . panties and a bra were the only barriers for her now.

How could this be happening to me, she thought. Fight, Hermione, fight like the muggle you are. Remember the Alamo and all that shit! She searched the recesses of her memory for anything she knew that could help her. Nothing came to her, nothing out of everything. All that knowledge, all those books, and they couldn't save her. They were worthless.

"You've always been lovely, Granger. Even now, when you're facing the greatest fear of your life, you are still a beautiful Mudblood. I'm sure he loved you. It will be hard for him to give you up, but he must."

She thought back to the days when she was young and at Hogwarts. She thought back to the end of seventh year. Memories of her and Ron's fleeting romance danced into her mind. They ended with her falling in love with Draco. Hermione could not help but wonder, even in her dangerous predicament, why he would bring up Ron now, but then again she did not understand one thing about her current situation.

He had seen her before. He had been with her before, but he had only taken what she was willing to give. Now, there was no giving, only taking. Maybe if she closed her eyes she could pretend it wasn't happening, she could make herself numb. It wasn't reality, but she attempted it anyway.

Hermione could feel him shifting on top of her and hear the rustling of his clothing. I'm dreaming, she reasoned. Wake up, Hermione. Wake up!

"Open your eyes," he growled and she obeyed.

Gazing at his pale body, one she had seen many times before, she had hope. Yes, she reasoned, remember the times before, remember the love we shared. Help him to remember that this was not who he was. The Draco she knew was kind and treated her respectfully. He had never hit her, never looked down upon her. Who was this monster? The man above her was not her Draco Malfoy, but she might be able to bring him back.

Her arms opened to him. Confusion covered his face for the briefest of moments, and then he was blank again. He needed more. Hermione took it upon herself to remove what was left between them. Bra gone to join the other articles of clothing and her knickers followed suit. She offered herself to him like before, when they were . . .

He smiled and laughed wickedly. She had never heard that laugh before. It was cold enough to freeze her soul, but evil enough to set her body aflame.

Draco grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head while slithering up her body, biting on a nipple during his journey. Oh Gods, she prayed, let this end better than it began. He settled himself between her legs. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself for what she knew was coming. Once she looked into his eyes, Hermione knew she should have fought, should have denied him, and now she berated herself for it. Panic consumed her body and caused her throat to tighten in fear. The eyes of Draco Malfoy were empty, devoid of all emotion.

Don‘t give up. "Draco, I lo-"

He viciously pushed himself inside, splitting her in two, stopping her before she could continue. She screamed in pain, previous words lost in a jumble of grunts and pants. The pain felt when losing her virginity was nothing compared to this violent intrusion.

"What. Was. That. I. Missed. It?" He asked, punctuating each word with a thrust more powerful than the last. It was all too much to bear and Hermione’s resolve was quickly shattering underneath her twisted lover.

"Stop!" She yelled, sobs coming through with her many protests. He pushed her arms further into the mattress.

He froze mid-thrust. Draco's body began to shake violently. He was trying to pull out. It seemed to Hermione that he was fighting a demon inside of him.

"Oh, God. I can't. I'm sorry, Hermione," he sobbed.

His movements resumed in an unwilling way, not as animalistic as before. He had buried himself so deep within before that he had hit her cervix and created a pain inside of Hermione she had never felt before, a pain that reached her heart. The blinding pain did not disappear with Draco’s sudden barely-there caution. He still pushed him self deeply, still gripped her wrists roughly, still randomly bit at parts of her exposed flesh, but there was an uneager ness to it act of rape that was not present before his faltering.

"I do. I forgive you. I forgive you, Draco." It was her last attempt before feeling like she would pass out from the pain.

A guttural scream erupted from his throat, causing the room to vibrate. Faster! He was slamming into her with all of his might. Hermione was biting her lip to keep from screaming with him. How had it come to this, she wondered. How? Why?

Harder, grunting to his climax, losing control, he was an animal over his prey. She was broken beneath him and would never be healed. He collapsed on top of her without a though to her needs and then quickly moved away from her. She felt like a deserted child in a theme park.

"Go," he panted. "run, Hermione. Hurry! Be gone before he comes back."

"Comes back? There‘s no one here, Draco!" She said, jumping off the Inn‘s bed. The frightened girl began gathering her clothes in a hurried fashion.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough for you. I’m sorry that I was like my father.”

It was impossible to comprehend what he was saying. All she could think about was running to the fireplace and flooing far away from where she was. Hermione took a hesitant step towards the fireplace. Draco didn’t budge. He continued to sit on the edge of the bed with his head cradled in his hands and every so often scream out in rage.

"He's here, Hermione. He's inside me, Voldemort. Go back to your flat!" He turned to her. In that moment Hermione saw the Draco she had thought disappeared forever. The vulnerable young man who loved her deeply looked at her through watery silver eyes. She wanted to run to him and whisper words of comfort in his ear, but she didn’t dare. Instead she held his gaze to long and watched his body contort in what seemed to be pain. I can’t watch this, she told herself.

She didn't stay to see what happened when "Voldemort" took control of him. She flooed to her flat and fell to the ground in tears. Now she was truly dirty, Voldemort had left his evil inside of her. I should have seen it, she argued with herself. Damn it Hermione, how could you have been so stupid. At first she had thought it was the wild inside of him, but now she could see that nothing was as it seemed. Everything Hermione held dear to her was lost that day; her dreams of happiness with Draco dashed, her love spoiled by a vile creature, he memories corrupted. There was nothing left for her and she was weak enough to wish she could obliviate herself, but strong enough to know she never would.



X-posted at dramione, draco_hermione, and blaze_faula