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Chapter Text

The world had suffered a grim fate. Harry Potter was dead, Voldemort had emerged victorious from the war, and Dumbledore's plan had failed. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the once bastion of hope and last line of defence, had been transformed into a hellscape. It had been bad enough during the war, but with Snape no longer headmaster, there had been nothing to hold the death eaters back.

The new Hogwarts had become a breeding ground for pureblood supremacy. The curriculum had been overhauled to reflect the new regime's ideology. Subjects like Muggle Studies and Divination were a distant memory, replaced by classes on Pureblood Superiority theory or Magical Dominance and Control. Every pureblood student who attended was fed propaganda, told how much better they were, and how much more powerful their blood is. They were treated like kings. And once they left Hogwarts, their life was easy, the whole world was built to put them at the top.

Half-bloods were tolerated, but barely. They were allowed to attend school and learn magic, but they were never granted the same privileges as their pureblood peers. They weren't allowed positions of power and often found themselves at the receiving end of cruel jibes and unfair treatment. It was a constant struggle for them to find a place in this new society, where their very existence was seen as a blight upon the purity of the wizarding race. At least they could exist somewhat peacefully after Hogwarts.

Muggle-borns and blood traitors, however, faced a far more dire fate outside the school walls. Treated as less than human, they were often forced into subservience, their magical abilities used to serve the whims of their pureblood masters. The women among them, were expected to be nothing more than sex slaves, breeding tools for the pureblood elite.

The muggle-born males had it the worst. They were seen as the ultimate betrayers, the lowest of the low. They were forced into labour camps, and their magic was often suppressed to prevent them from rebelling. Their days were filled with back-breaking work, building new structures for the regime, clearing the rubble of the old world, and carrying out other menial tasks that were deemed beneath the purebloods. Even though it would be much easier with magic. The few who managed to escape lived in constant fear of the Snatchers.

And for men who dared to disobey or challenge the new order? They were sent to Azkaban without a trial. The fortress had been transformed from a prison for the criminally insane into a political prison, housing those who dared to oppose Voldemort's regime. The dementors, now loyal to their new master, were more vicious than ever, feeding on the despair and hope of the prisoners.

As for disobedient muggle-born women, they were sent to Hogwarts for 're-education'. They served the pureblood students and teachers, enduring all manner of abuse and humiliation. They were taught that their existence was only valuable for their holes and that their only purpose was to serve and obey their betters. Their fate was a twisted parody of what education was meant to be.

With a jolt, Hermione's eyes fly open. Her breathing is muffled by the ball gag, her heart racing as she registers her bound hands as rough rope pressed against her skin. Memories flooded back into her mind, a wave of cold dread crashing over her. She remembered that the snatchers had found her, the night before. They had dragged her from the makeshift shelter she made in an obscure muggle village, her protests silenced by a stunning spell.

She had manage to survive for months. She had gotten too confident, she thought she was safe forever.

She blinks rapidly, taking in her surroundings. The cold, stone walls, the iron bars of the cell, the murmur of voices nearby. This was probably one of the snatcher camps, where she was likely awaiting transport to Hogwarts to enter the horrid re-education system. She tries to struggle against her bonds, wincing as the ropes bite into her wrists. Her thoughts race, trying to formulate an escape plan. She needs to keep her wits about her. She had managed to survive the first few months of this new world, she knew she could find a way out. She was more than smart enough to escape.

The heavy door to the cell block clangs open, the sound echoing through the corridor. A tall, pale man with a cruel sneer steps into the room. His eyes land on Hermione, he strides over, the clack of his boots punctuating his approach. "Looks like we've got ourselves a feisty one," he says, his voice thick with malice. "But don't worry, love, we'll have that spirit of yours broken in no time." He stops before her cell, his gaze lingering on her bound form. "You'll learn your place, just like the rest of your kind." He spits the words as if the very idea of her defiance is an affront to his very being. "Once we're done with you, you'll be begging to serve your pureblood masters."

Through the gag, Hermione attempts to speak, her words muffled but filled with determination. Her eyes flash with anger and defiance as she tries to convey her thoughts to the sadistic guard. "M-m-mph... y-you... w-won't... b-break m-me!" she stammers, her jaw aching from the effort. She refuses to let fear overwhelm her. Despite her current predicament, she clings to the hope that one day, she'll find a way to fight back, to make them regret the day they laid a hand on her. Her eyes never leave the guard's, a silent promise of retribution.

The guard laughs, a cold, mirthless sound that sends shivers down her spine. "Oh, I've heard that so many times," he says, leaning towards her with a smug expression. "But the Hogwarts re-education system is designed to break the likes of you. You think you're so clever, so special, but in the end, you're just a mudblood. And mudbloods always break." His smile widens, showing off a set of yellowed teeth. "I've been told you are a special one. They've been hunting you for a long, long time, and trust me, sweetheart, they don't intend on letting you run free."

Despite the pain and fear, Hermione's eyes never leave the guard's, and she desperately pulls at the ropes that dig into her wrists. She wriggles and twists her body, trying to find any give in her restraints. But she ignores the pain, her mind racing with the urgency of her situation. She has to escape. She won't become a tool of the pureblood regime. Her teeth grit around the gag as she continues to struggle, her eyes never leaving the guard's, silently daring him to underestimate her. Her breathing is ragged, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She refuses to be broken.

Unfazed by her attempts at rebellion, the guard reaches forward and grabs a handful of her hair, yanking her head back roughly. He leans in, his breath hot and foul against her cheek. "It's such a shame I'm forbidden from having my way with you here. I'd love to show you what a real wizard's cock feels like, mudblood." He gives her a lecherous wink before squeezing her breast through her shirt, his grip bruising. "But I can still enjoy touching you a little bit"

Hermione's eyes widen in a mix of fury and horror as she feels the guard's hand on her. She tries to jerk away, but the rope is too strong. Her thoughts are racing. Who had forbidden him from having his way? Perhaps a higher-ranked Death Eater had already claimed her? The realization makes her stomach churn, but she won't let him see her fear. She continues to thrash, her eyes narrowed and furious. The guard's words echo in her mind, and she wonders what fate awaits her at Hogwarts. She had heard so many horrible stories of what her school had been twisted into. But she won't let them win. She'll find a way to escape, to fight back, even if it means the end of her.

The guard's grin falters for a brief moment before he straightens up at the sound of a piercing beep echoing through the cell block. "Ah, looks like it's time to send you off to Hogwarts, love," he says with a sneer, releasing her hair. He glances at his watch, clearly magical as it hummed and the hands turned quickly. " I'm sure the purebloods will enjoy breaking you in." With a smug sneer, the guard pulls out an old, worn shoe. He forces her hand to close around it, and she feels a sudden jolt of magic. "Portus!" he snarls, the shoe coming to life in her grip. The room around her swirls and blurs as the portkey activates, and despite her struggles, she feels herself being yanked into the void. The last thing she sees is the sadistic grin on the guard's face before the world goes dark. When she opens her eyes again, she's standing outside the gates of Hogwarts.

Hermione stumbles onto the floor, completely disoriented. The world spins around her as she takes a few wobbly steps away from the discarded portkey. The cold night air hits her face, and she gasps for breath, her chest heaving. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the fog from her eyes. Hogwarts castle loomed before her, looking eerie under the moon's glow. She looks around, her eyes darting from side to side. She's surrounded by masked death eaters, their cloaks billowing in the breeze. Each one carries a wand, and she knows all too well the damage they could inflict. She can't believe she's back here, in the place she had once called home. With a deep breath, she gathers her strength and tries to ignore the pain in her wrists as she takes in her new, terrifying reality.

More portkeys activate around her, and one by one, other girls appear, looking as dazed and frightened as she feels. They're all dressed in ragged, ill-fitting clothes. The death eaters move in, forming a tight circle around the new arrivals. Hermione's heart sinks as she sees the fear reflected in their eyes, knowing that each one of them has their own story of survival, their own nightmares that brought them to this moment. They are herded like cattle towards the castle.

As the last of the portkeys fades away, a figure clad in all black emerges from the shadows of the castle's grand entrance. His sleek blonde hair is pulled back, and his cold grey eyes scan the line of new arrivals with a practised detachment. Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she realised who it was, one of the people she despised the most in this world. Draco Malfoy.

"Welcome," he says, his voice low and commanding, "I am Professor Malfoy. I will be your teacher for Obedience and Subservience Training, a new subject for mudbloods and blood traitors at Hogwarts." He paused, his eyes raking over each of the students, "You have been sent here because you are yet to accept your place in this world, but do not worry, " His gaze lingers on Hermione for a moment, and she can't help but feel a shiver run down her spine. "You will all learn to obey without question, to serve without hesitation, to please without protest." His smile is cold and predatory. "And I promise, by the time you leave these hallowed halls, you will not just accept your place in this world, you will crave it."

Hermione's stomach churns with disgust and anger at Draco's words. She refuses to bow to his twisted worldview, to let him or anyone else break her. She looks around at the other girls, some trembling, others with their eyes filled with a fierce determination that mirrors her own. They all knew what they were facing, the horrors that lay ahead of them in the re-education system. But she won't let them break her spirit. She won't let them win.

Draco's eyes sweep over the group, his lip curling in disdain as he addresses the surrounding death eaters. "Take them away," he commands, his voice clipped and impatient. "All of them, except for Miss Granger." He gestures to Hermione, his gaze lingering on her. "I have... special plans for her." The death eaters move to comply, grabbing the other students and leading them away with a roughness that leaves no doubt about their contempt for the mudbloods. Draco approaches Hermione, his hand reaching for the ball gag in her mouth. He grips it firmly and pulls it out with one swift motion, tossing it aside.

Hermione's eyes flash with anger as the gag is removed. She spits at Draco, the saliva landing on his pristine robes. "You're nothing but a pathetic, spineless coward," she hisses, her voice shaking with emotion. "You're just a tool for Voldemort, and once he's done with you, you'll be discarded like the trash you are." She continues to struggle against her bonds, her wrists burning from the rope, her body fueled by her unyielding spirit. She knows the pain will come, she knows the fear will try to consume her, but she won't let it. She won't let them win.

Draco's eyes narrow at the spit on his robe. He reaches back and slaps her, the crack echoing through the night air. Her head snaps to the side, and she gasps, tears welling up in her eyes from the pain. He grabs her face, his grip like iron, and turns her to face him again. "You will learn to keep that mouth of yours shut," he snarls, his voice filled with fury. "You're nothing but a dirty, inferior mudblood. I'll take great pleasure in watching you beg for mercy." He releases her and wipes at the spit with a handkerchief, his disgust clear.

Despite the pain from the slap, Hermione's eyes never leave Draco's, her gaze filled with a fiery determination. She refuses to be intimidated, to let his cruel words cut her down. She knows that she's stronger than this, that she's been through worse and survived. "I'd rather die than serve you," she says, her voice filled with contempt. She tries to spit at him again, but her mouth is too dry. Her breathing is shallow, her heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. She knows that she's walking a dangerous line, but she won't let them break her spirit, not without a fight.

Draco chuckles humorlessly, waving a hand to dismiss her words. "Oh, I've heard the exact same thing multiple times. Lots from some of your friends, in fact. Each of them broke eventually." He steps closer to her, his breath hot and his gaze piercing. "You're all alone here. No one to save you." His hand moves to her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You're coming with me. You'll be staying in my room tonight. I know you will be one of the feisty ones, I want to start breaking you early."

Hermione's eyes widen in horror at the implication. She couldn't bear to be all alone with the slimy git. She tries to pull away from Draco's touch, but she's too weak. "You're sick," she whispers, her voice trembling. But she knows she can't show fear, can't give him the satisfaction. "I won't make it easy for you. I'll never serve you willingly." Her eyes flash with a fierce light, and she spits out the last word like a curse. "Never."

Draco grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her forward with surprising strength. Despite the pain, she gasps and stumbles forward. "Your protests bore me, mudblood," he says, his voice low and dark. He pulls her along, her feet dragging on the cold, hard floor as they make their way through the castle. They ascend a flight of stairs and move down a corridor, the normal magical paintings are all empty. Eventually, they stopped outside a door and Draco pulled out a key, unlocking it with a click. He pushes it open and pulls her inside, "Welcome to my quarters, I'm going to have lots of fun breaking you before we let you go to classes."

The room is a stark contrast to the cold, damp cell she'd been held in. It's large, with high ceilings and large windows that allow the moonlight to cast an eerie glow over the opulent decorations. The walls are lined with dark mahogany bookshelves filled with books. A massive four-poster bed sits in the centre of the room, the silk sheets looking almost black in the shadows. A large, ornate desk is positioned in one corner, its surface cluttered with quills and parchment. In another corner, there's a wardrobe filled with Draco's fine, tailored robes.

But what truly catches her eye is a display of whips, chains, rope, handcuffs, paddles and other instruments of pain and pleasure resting atop a velvet-covered chest at the foot of the bed. His eyes follow hers, and he smirks. "I see you've noticed my little collection," he says, his voice dripping with malice. "I find they help in... motivating the more stubborn of my students."

Hermione's eyes widen at the sight of the tools, and she feels a cold knot form in her stomach. Despite her fear, she refuses to cower. She glares at Draco, her voice filled with venom. "You think you can scare me with those toys?" she spits. "I've seen worse, and I've survived." She struggles against his grip, her eyes scanning the room for any potential means of escape. The windows are too high, and she knows she's no match for Draco without a wand. She'll need to bide her time, find a way to get free and signal for help. She would just have to hope there was someone out there willing to help her. Maybe there's a way to use Draco's arrogance against him.

Draco's smirk widens as he observes her defiance. "All this talk is futile, but please, keep going its very entertaining for me. Since you aren't quite ready to be obedient yet, Miss Granger, I'll simply have to make it easier for you to learn your place." With a flick of his wrist, her clothes vanish, leaving her trembling and vulnerable in her underwear. The cold air prickles her skin as she gasps in shock and outrage. With another flick of his wand, the ropes binding her "Now, let's begin your first lesson," he says, his voice low and sinister. "You will address me as Master. Is that understood?" His eyes rake over her exposed body, and she can see the hunger in his gaze.

Hermione's body is petite. Her breasts are small but perky, with rosy pink nipples that are hardening quickly. Her stomach is flat, and her hips curve gently into her thighs. Her pussy is surprisingly clean-shaven. She tries to cover herself, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she glares at Draco. "I will never call you that," she says, her voice shaking but firm. "You're nothing but a sadistic bully. One who needs to do depraved stuff like this just to get a woman to fuck." Despite her bravado, she can't help but feel a tremor of fear as she notices the way his eyes linger on her nakedness. She knows she's in grave danger, but she refuses to let him see her fear.

Draco's grin turns into a sneer. "Let me repeat. You will address me as 'Master,' or you will be punished," he says, his voice cold and unyielding. He picks up a leather paddle from the chest, flexing it in his hand before bringing it down sharply on her ass. The sound echoes through the room, and she yelps, her eyes watering. He raises the paddle once more. "Call me master."

Despite the stinging pain that radiates from her ass, Hermione clenches her teeth and refuses to give in. A tear starts to appear in her eye, but she keeps her eyes locked on Draco, her gaze full of defiance. "I'll never submit to the likes of you." she spits out, her voice thick with emotion. She knows the punishment will only get worse, but she won't let him win this battle of wills. She won't let him break her. Not now, not ever.

In a swift response, Draco brings the paddle down twice more, the sound of the impacts on her skin echoing in the room. "Perhaps this will change your mind," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. He then swings the paddle with all his strength and hits her right across her breasts, the sound of flesh meeting leather making Hermione's knees buckle. "Master," he repeats, his tone demanding. "Say it, or I'll keep making things worse"

Hermione's body jerks with pain as the paddle connects with her breasts. She bites back a scream, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Tears stream down her face as she looks at Draco with a mix of anger and pain. "I can't call you that," she says through gritted teeth, her voice hoarse. She knows she's only making her situation worse, but she won't let him have the victory of her submission. Her eyes, still locked on his, are a storm of determination and defiance. She's shivering uncontrollably now, the cold air of the room and the fear mixing with the pain. The pain was slowly becoming unbearable.

Unfazed by her continued refusal, Draco's hand raises the paddle again, his grip tightening. He takes a step closer to her, bringing the paddle down once more, this time aiming for the tender flesh of her inner thighs. The pain is like fire, and she can't help but cry out. "You're only making this harder on yourself, mudblood," he says, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. "But if you insist on being a masochist, I can certainly oblige." He brings the paddle down again, this time back on her ass.

Hermione's legs threaten to give way beneath her as the pain becomes almost unbearable. She's aware of the tremble in her voice as she speaks. "O-Ow! F-Fine, Master." The word feels like acid on her tongue, but she says it. It's just one word, she tells herself. Just for a moment's reprieve. Her knees were wobbling. Her mind races, searching for a way out of this hellish predicament, even as she yields to his demand.

Draco's smirk widens, and he sets the paddle down. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a mix of satisfaction and mockery. With a flick of his wand, the ropes reappear, binding her wrists and ankles. He then pushes her to her knees, the cold stone floor biting into her skin. "I'm just going to grab something, While I'm gone, you should consider how much easier things could be for you if you'd just embrace your place. I'd hate to have to hurt you every time I want you to do something," he adds with a cruel chuckle. He leaves the room, the door closing with a heavy thud behind him, leaving Hermione bound and trembling, her thoughts racing with fear and determination.

The moment Draco leaves the room, Hermione's eyes dart around, frantically searching for anything she can use to free herself. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she tries to ignore the burning pain across her body. The ropes cut into her wrists and ankles, but she focuses on the promise of escape, not the pain. She tells herself that calling him 'master' was merely a strategic move, a temporary surrender to buy time.

With no immediate escape in sight, she takes deep, slow breaths to calm herself, focusing on the feeling of the cold stone beneath her knees and the way her heart hammers in her chest. There would be a moment when everyone else's guard was dropped. She just had to wait for that moment and do everything she could to exploit it. She wouldn't be broken. She'd give in occasionally, like she just had, to minimize the pain. But she wouldn't stop resisting.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this introduction! Please let me know what you think if you'd like to leave a comment. Hopefully I've done my idea justice.

Chapter Text

Hermione has been in the room, alone with her thoughts, for what feels like an eternity. It's been at least thirty minutes since Draco left her kneeling on the cold, hard floor, her wrists and ankles bound by the unforgiving ropes.  She had discovered a sharp edge on the stone hearth and had been carefully, painfully, rubbing her bound wrists against it. Desperately trying to cut through the rope. The ropes are frayed, but they haven't given way yet. She knows she needs to keep trying, to stay sharp, to find a way out.

As she keeps trying to slice the rope, Hermione can't help but wonder if there are others here that she knows. She tries to think, listing the names of everyone she can remember who might have ended up in this hellish place. It had been so long since she had seen anyone. Ron was the last person she had seen, and even that was months ago. Maybe even one of her close friends like Ginny or Luna had wound up here. Although she hoped not. If she can just get out of Draco's room, maybe she could free someone else. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door opening, She quickly composes herself, pulling her hands away from the edge, and she slumps her head trying to look as defeated as possible.

Draco Malfoy strides back into the room, his eyes scanning over her naked body with a hunger that makes her stomach turn. In one hand, he holds a small, crystal vial filled with a swirling, silver liquid that glitters like liquid moonlight. His gaze lingers on her bruised breasts and reddened thighs before returning to her face. "Good girl," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "You've had some time to consider your position. Perhaps now you'll be more... compliant." He approaches her, the vial glinting in his hand. "This potion will ensure your body responds appropriately to your new role." He uncorks the vial and brings it to her mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. "Drink."

With a fierce glower, Hermione clamps her mouth shut tightly. "I will not," she says through gritted teeth, her voice firm and unwavering despite the fear that tightens her chest. "You can't force me to be something I'm not, Draco. I am not your toy, and I will never be." She shakes her head, the ropes digging into her wrists as she does so. "Do whatever you like to me, but I'll never take that potion." The air in the room is thick with tension, her eyes never leaving his as she waits for his response, bracing herself for the next round of punishment.

His smirk falters for a moment, and his eyes flash with anger. "You're more stubborn than I gave you credit for, mudblood," he says, his voice a low growl. He pulls out his wand and taps the vial, a stream of the potion comes flying out of the vial and straight into her mouth. He watches with a mix of annoyance and excitement as she struggles against the ropes, her throat working as she tries to resist swallowing. "You'll find it easier to swallow than your pride," he says, his eyes cold. When the potion is gone, he steps back and waits, his gaze on her like a hawk watching its prey. "Now, let's see if you still have that fight left in you after this takes effect."

The potion burns as it goes down her throat, and she coughs, trying to fight the involuntary swallows that follow. Within moments, she feels a strange warmth spread through her body, tingling in the most intimate places. The pain from her earlier punishment fades away, replaced by an overwhelming, uncontrollable lust. Her breath hitches as she feels her body betray her, her nipples hardening and her pussy growing wet. She looks at Draco with a mix of anger and desperation, hating herself for the way she's reacting, but unable to stop it. "What have you done to me?" she gasps, her voice trembling.

"I just fed you a delightful potion that lowers your inhibitions and induces an insatiable horniness," Draco explains with a wicked smile, watching the effects take hold of her. "It'll make you much easier to control, You'll be begging for it, craving the touch of anything you can get your filthy hands on"  Draco reaches out and roughly gropes her breasts, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He pinches her nipples, watching as she gasps and arches her back involuntarily.

Despite her efforts to resist, the potion's effect is potent. Hermione feels a wave of pleasure so intense it takes her breath away. Her body responds to his touch as if it has been starved of intimacy for years, her nipples peaking and her pussy clenching with need. She can't hold back the moan that escapes her lips as he continues to play with her breasts, the sensation sending jolts of electricity straight to her core. Her eyes glaze over, and she can't help but lean into his touch, hating herself for it but unable to resist the overwhelming sensations that flood her body.

"One of the most important lessons I have to teach you," Draco says, his voice cold and firm. "Is that you, mudblood,  are inferior. Your kind does not belong in our world. You are here to serve." He grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he commands, his eyes boring into hers. "Look into the eyes of your superior and admit it. Tell me, Hermione Granger, tell me that you are inferior to me." He releases her hair and steps back, waiting for her response.

Hermione's eyes fill with tears of frustration and anger as she feels the potion's power over her body. She wanted his touch, she wanted anything to feel an ounce of pleasure, but her mind screams for her to fight, to not give in to his vile words. She clenches her jaw tightly, her body betraying her as she fights the urge to moan in pleasure. "Never," she whispers, the word barely audible. "I am not inferior to you, Draco Malfoy. I never will be." Despite the potion's relentless pull, she refuses to give in to his demands.

Draco replied, his smile turning into a sneer, "So stubborn. But fear not, for I am a patient man." He walks over to his desk and places the empty vial down with a clack. " I will deny you the pleasure which you will crave until you understand your inferiority. The potion I gave you will make sure of that. You will ache for it." He stands upright, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

The potion's warmth spreads through her like wildfire, making her body ache and pulse with need. Hermione's mind is a battlefield as she desperately tries to regain control over her traitorous body. She can feel her clit swelling and her pussy throbbing, begging for relief, she wanted to snap the ropes and use her fingers to relief herself. She grits her teeth. The need to touch herself, to bring herself even the slightest bit of comfort, is almost maddening. Her breathing grows ragged as she tries to focus on anything else, but the potion's effects are too strong, too insistent. She's aware of Draco's eyes on her, watching her struggle, and she hates herself for the way her body reacts to his mere presence. The room feels like it's closing in on her.

Draco saunters closer, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "All you have to do to ease this ache is to admit that you are inferior, that you are here to serve. Say it, Hermione. Say that you are inferior to me." His voice is a seductive whisper that sends shivers down her spine despite her resolve. "Say it," he repeats.

With a fierce grit of her teeth, Hermione refuses to give in to the words he wants to hear. Instead, she turns away from him, her body straining against the ropes, trying to find something - anything - to rub against for relief. She sees a chair leg, and with a desperate need that overrides any shred of dignity she has left, she arches her hips and tries to push herself against it, her wetness leaving a slick trail on the cold stone floor, but can't quite reach it. "Never," she manages to choke out, her voice filled with pain and longing.

Draco laughs, a harsh, mocking sound that echoes through the room. "Look at you, desperate little mudblood," he sneers, watching her futile attempt to find relief. "You're pathetic. If you can't even control your own body, how do you expect to control anything else?" He strides closer, his leg outstretched, the fabric of his trousers tauntingly close to her needy sex. "Here," he says, his voice a sneer. "Hump this instead." He presses his leg against her, watching with a twisted delight as she struggles to maintain her dignity.

With a low, anguished moan, she starts to rock her hips against his leg, her body betraying her as it desperately seeks any semblance of pleasure it can find. The friction is almost unbearable, a sweet agony that makes her want to scream with need. She closes her eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the cruel smile on Draco's face, but all she can think about is the way her body feels, the way she's humiliating herself in front of him. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she continues to move, hoping that any second the effects of the potion will wear off.

Draco pulls his leg away abruptly, leaving her gasping and frustrated. "If you want to keep going, tell me you're inferior, and then I'll let you continue." His eyes glint with malicious glee as he watches her squirm, the potion's effects making it impossible for her to ignore the throbbing need between her legs.

Her eyes fly open, and she glares at him with a mix of anger and despair. "Fine," she bites out, the word feeling like acid on her tongue. "I'm an inferior mudblood." The moment the words leave her mouth, she feels a piece of herself shatter, but the potion's grip on her is too strong to care about her pride. She needs release, and she needs it now. She begs him with her eyes, silently pleading for him to let her continue.

He smirks, "Good girl," he purrs, pushing his leg back against her, allowing her to resume her desperate grinding. "Remember this feeling, Granger. This is what you are now. A needy whore craving the touch of your superior." He watches her face contort with a mix of pleasure and disgust as she uses his leg to satisfy the potion's demands.

Hermione's body moves against his leg in a frenzied dance of need, her breathing growing more ragged with each passing second. She can feel an orgasm building, and she hates him for it, but she can't stop herself. She tries to block out his voice, focusing only on the friction and the sensation building inside her. Just as she reaches the peak, Draco pulls his leg away again, leaving her panting and on the edge of madness. "Please," she whispers, her voice raw with desperation. "Please, let me..."

"Let you what, mudblood?" he asks, his tone mocking. "Let you cum? Not until you admit you enjoy this." He leans down, his breath hot against her ear. "Admit that you like being used like a common whore." He watches her, his eyes gleaming with victory as she fights against the ropes, her body trembling with unfulfilled desire. "Say it," he whispers, his voice a seductive command.

Hermione bites her lip, her eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears of rage and despair. She tries to resist the potion's overwhelming power, but her body feels like it's on fire, begging for release. She knows she can't hold out. "I... I like this," she whispers, the words barely audible, her voice filled with pain and defeat. "I like this, I like being used like a common whore" she repeats, louder this time, hating herself for every syllable that leaves her mouth. The potion's grip over her body was suffocating.

"That's better," Draco says, his smirk widening as he watches her squirm. "Now, continue," he commands. He watches as she begins to rock her hips again, her body seeking the release it so desperately needs. He grabs her hips, holding her in place against his leg as she ruts against him, his hand moving to her throat to control her movements. "Faster," he whispers, his grip tightening. 

With a whimper of defeat, Hermione starts to grind her hips against Draco's leg again, her body moving almost involuntarily. The friction is exquisite, sending waves of pleasure through her that she can't ignore. Her orgasm builds rapidly, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter until she can't hold it back any longer. She cums with a strangled cry, her juices soaking his trousers as she clenches against his leg.

As the orgasm washes over her, Hermione feels the potion's grip loosen. The intense need for release subsides, leaving her feeling weak and vulnerable. She opens her eyes, meeting Draco's cold gaze, and sees the smug satisfaction on his face. She feels the ropes digging into her wrists, a stark reminder of her captivity. Despite the temporary respite from the potion's effects, the weight of her situation crashes back down on her, and she feels more defeated than ever.

She spits out, her voice thick with disdain. "Do you need a potion to get someone to obey you? So much for pure-blood superiority," she says, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. "It's probably the only way you can get someone to want you." Her words are a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control over the situation, to strike back at him for the humiliation she's just endured.

Draco's smirk falters for a moment, surprised at how quickly she regained control, but quickly recovers. "Your insolence is entertaining, but it won't change your fate, Granger. The potion's effects are temporary, but your inferiority is not." He walks over to her, his hand grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I don't need a potion to make someone want me, " Draco laughs, a cold, humourless sound. "Let me show you just how wrong you are." With a flick of his wand, Hermione can hear a small ringing bell. The sound is faint, but it seems to echo through the room, resonating in the air with an eerie finality. "I'm sure you'll recognise this girl."

Hermione's heart skips a beat as the door to the chamber opens, and in walks a figure she hasn't seen in what feels like an eternity. Ginny Weasley, her fiery red hair cascading down her bare back. Ginny's naked form is marred by various bruises and marks, a silver collar and leash attached to her neck the only adornments she wears. For a moment, the room feels like it's spinning, and Hermione can't believe what she's seeing. "Ginny," she whispers, her voice hoarse with a mix of horror and relief. Ginny's eyes widen with shock at the sigh of her friend.

Ginny quickly corrects herself, her features smoothing into a mask of obedience and adoration. Suddenly completely ignoring Hermione. "Hello, Master Malfoy," Her breasts, fuller and more voluptuous than Hermione's, bounce gently with each step she takes, the nipples hard with anticipation. Her firm ass sways subtly, the muscles tight from her years of Quidditch training. Despite the bruises and marks marring her skin, there's a seductive allure to her that seems almost unnatural. She stops before Draco, her eyes never leaving the floor, her breathing shallow and rapid. "You called for me, Master?" she purrs, dropping to her knees and bowing her head before him, her body moving with a grace that seems almost rehearsed.

Hermione's eyes narrow as she watches Ginny, the anger and disgust at Draco's manipulation overwhelming her. She can see the smugness etched on his face. It takes everything in her not to spit at him, to keep her contempt in check. Instead, she watches in silence, her mind racing, searching for a way to free not only herself but her friend as well. The sight of Ginny, once so proud and fierce, now acting as a subservient plaything is almost more than she can bear. She wants to shout and scream, to hammer some sense into her friend. But she knows that's exactly what Draco wants to see. She won't give him that satisfaction.

Draco strokes Ginny's cheek with the back of his hand before inserting a finger into her mouth, pushing it in until she gags..  He withdraws his finger with a wet pop, wiping it clean on her cheek. "Your mudblood friend here is about to start her lessons. As one of my star pupils, I'm making you responsible for ensuring she behaves well." He squeezes her breast roughly, his eyes never leaving Hermione's.

Ginny moans as she is groped, her eyes glazed over. She nods eagerly, "I-I'll do my best to serve, Master Malfoy," she says, her eyes flickering briefly to Hermione before returning to Draco's. She licks her lips, her cheeks flushing with arousal as she anticipates what's to come. "I promise to make you proud, and to help the mudblood learn her place."

Hermione's eyes widen in shock and disbelief as Ginny addresses her with that word. She feels a surge of anger and betrayal, and she can't help but lash out, "Ginny, how can you call me that?" she spits, her voice filled with venom. "How can you buy into their stupid ideals, how could you become so... so different" Her voice breaks, a mix of anger and desperation as she tries to reach out to the Ginny she once knew, hoping to snap her out of this twisted reality.

Draco's smirk widens at Hermione's outburst. He grabs Ginny by her hair, pulling her head back. "It seems your friend still has a bit of spirit. So, for every act of defiance from her, you will  be the one to pay the price." He smirks, his hand coming down hard on Ginny's round, firm buttocks. She yelps, but quickly recovers, pressing herself against his hand as if begging for more.
He turns towards Hermione, "So, if you want to keep her from getting hurt," he says, his voice low and menacing, "you'll be a good little mudblood and do exactly as told." His hand lingers, caressing the reddened flesh before delivering another sharp spank.

Hermione winces as she watches Ginny get hurt, her heart breaking at the sight of her friend's degradation. Her eyes fill with tears of rage and despair. She'll be damned if she lets Ginny suffer any more than she already has. Even if Ginny was acting as she was.

"Th-thank you, Master Malfoy," Ginny stammers, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure as she looks up at him adoringly. "It's what I deserve for not serving well enough. I'll be better, I promise," she whispers, her eyes shimmering with a desperate need to please him. Her body trembles as she leans into his touch, her cheeks flushed with arousal.

Draco nods, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he releases Ginny's hair. Seemingly satisfied by her grovelling "Very well, then. You may punish the mudblood as you see fit, to make sure she learns" he says, "Take her to the dormitories, Ginny. She will be attending the same classes as you for the time being, make sure she is at class on time." he commands, his voice filled with authority.

Ginny looks up at Draco, "Yes, Master, I'll be a good blood traitor, " she says, her voice a sultry whisper. She turns to Hermione, her eyes momentarily filled with a flicker of something that might be concern or regret, before it's replaced with a cold, empty stare. "C-Come with me, mudblood," she commands, her voice shaking slightly as she crawls out of the room. Expecting Hermione to follow after her.

Hermione's gaze follows Ginny as she crawls away, taking in the bright red handprints on her friend's ass, a stark reminder of the price for disobedience. She would happily take punishments herself, but she couldn't make one of her friends hurt.  She bites her lip, the anger and despair boiling in her stomach like a cauldron of poison. For now, the only way to protect Ginny is to play along. With a heavy heart, she starts to crawl after Ginny, her nakedness feeling like a brand of shame. She keeps her eyes on the ground, not being able to bear looking at Draco. At the very least she would get away from him for a while.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter! The last one got a lot of positive feedback so hopefully I can have this story live up to what people want from it. I'm curious to know if people would be interested in chapters and scenes told from the perspective of other characters that don't include Hermione. Because I think there is a lot of scope for that.

Chapter Text

After a few minutes of crawling behind Ginny, Hermione's legs are aching. An eerie quietude had replaced the usual bustle of the castle, no students walked the halls, but perhaps that was just because of how late it was. She noticed that plenty of the magical paintings that used to adorn the castle had been taken down, instead replaced by posters enforcing the ideals of the pureblood regime. It was scary. The castle didn't feel like a home anymore. She still was shocked that Ginny had been here, but she knew her well, she would never give in, whatever had just happened in Draco's quarters would all of been an act.  She whispers to Ginny, her voice trembling slightly, "Ginny, I think we're far enough from his quarters now. We should be able to stand and talk freely."

Ginny stops and turns around, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and sadness. "Hermione, I know you think you can outsmart this, that you'll be able to find a way out. But I promise you, we can't," she says in a hushed tone, glancing around to ensure they weren't being listened to. "You're playing a dangerous game. We have to be obedient, follow the rules, even when there aren't purebloods around. If you don't behave, I'll be the one who gets punished. I've learnt my lesson, don't make me go through that again."

"Ginny," Hermione says with a firmness that surprises herself, "This isn't the way. Pretending to be submissive won't change the fact that we're being held against our will. We can't sit back and just pretend that what they're doing is right. We're Gryffindors, for Merlin's sake! We stand up for what's right." She takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice low but steady. "I know it's hard, but we have to find a way to fight back. We can't let them win without even trying."

Ginny looks at Hermione, "I'm not pretending Hermione. I've seen things, heard things. The purebloods have a point. Mudbloods and Blood Traitors like us, are inferior. We're just tools for them to use, to show off their power. And as for me, if that means I have to serve, I'll do it proudly. It's the only way to survive here now." She gives Hermione a small look of sympathy, "I understand this is confusing for you right now. But you'll understand eventually. It seemed Master Draco was already proving it to you earlier."

Hermione's jaw clenches at Ginny's words, and she feels a surge of anger and disbelief. Each word Ginny spoke felt like a stab to the heart. She can't believe her friend has been so brainwashed. She whispers back, "Ginny, that's not who you are. You can't mean that. You can't." She tries to hold onto hope, her eyes searching Ginny's for any sign of the fiery spirit she knew was still in there. "Please, don't let them break you completely. We'll find a way out of this together, I promise." she pleads.

Ginny sighs deeply, her eyes meeting Hermione's with a mix of pain and resignation. "Look, Hermione, I know it's hard to accept, but you need to drop it," she says, her voice a gentle but firm whisper. "I'm just trying to keep us both safe. The sooner you understand your place here, the better it'll be for us. Just... go along with it, okay?" 

Hermione swallows the lump in her throat, feeling a profound sense of sorrow wash over her. She nods reluctantly, knowing that pushing Ginny right now would only lead to further trouble. "Alright, Ginny," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "For now, I'll... I'll go along with it." Inside, though, she's already planning her next move, her mind racing with thoughts of rebellion and escape. She couldn't bear to see her friend like this, but it seemed it was something she couldn't change immediately. It would take a while. Clearly, the new Hogwarts had done a number on her. 

They both continued to crawl forward, eventually reaching the Gryffindor common room. The portrait of the fat lady had long since been removed, now it was just simply the tunnel which led through. As they crawled forward, Ginny spoke, "Any purebloods are now allowed access to any of the common rooms, so all houses other than Slytherin have their special entrances removed. Only purebloods are allowed in Slytherin"

As they crawl through the entrance into the common room, Hermione is taken aback by the sight before her. Despite the changes in the outside world, the Gryffindor common room looked surprisingly untouched, with the warm glow of the fireplace and the familiar furniture. The only noticeable difference was the absence of the usual chatter and laughter that once filled the space. Everyone must be asleep. It felt like a ghostly echo of the home she knew, haunting her with a bittersweet nostalgia. "W-Why is the common room basically the same? I was expecting it to be completely gutted."

"Well, only those who behave are allowed to stay in the common rooms," Ginny explains in a hushed tone as they crawl into the deserted Gryffindor common room. "The conditions for those who don't... aren't nearly as nice. At least we get proper beds here" she says with a shiver, recalling her own experiences in those dreadful places. "Trust me, you don't want to end up there."

Hermione didn't want to talk about the punishments. She was sure she would find herself there soon enough, it wouldn't do to scare herself. Instead, she had a few questions. "Ginny, what time do we need to be up tomorrow? And where can I find some clothes to sleep in?" she asks, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. It was still so strange how different her friend had become.

Ginny's expression turns cold, "I'll wake you when needed, Mudblood," she says, using the slur without a hint of irony. "As for clothes, unless a Pureblood deigns to give you permission, you are to remain nude. It's just another way of keeping us in our place. Even when clothes are allowed,  it's usually something revealing."

Hermione flinches at Ginny calling her a mudblood. That was going to take a long time to get used to. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts, feeling a mix of anger and sadness at the change in her friend. She whispers, "Ginny, I... I just need to get some rest. Can you take me to the rooms, I don't know which one I'm staying in." She tries to keep her voice calm, despite her frustrations. It wasn't surprising that she wouldn't be allowed clothes, given everything she had experienced so far it was almost expected, but it was still humiliating. 

Ginny nods, leading Hermione up the stairs to what used to be the second-year dormitory. The beds are simple, with thin blankets, and the walls are bare. "You can sleep with the blanket, or completely nude. It's your choice." She looks away, unable to meet Hermione's eyes. "I will wake you up in the morning. Don't do anything stupid." 

Hermione looks around the empty dormitory. She turns to Ginny, "Why is no one else here, Ginny?" she asks, her gaze searching Ginny's expression for some hint of the friend she once knew. "Where are the other Gryffindors, Is there really no one else here?" 

Ginny sighs, her voice heavy.  "This is the room for the newest girls," she explains, her eyes avoiding Hermione's. "Unfortunately, those are the ones who are the most likely to rebel, so the other girls who normally sleep here are currently in the punishment quarters." She pauses, her gaze flicking to the floor. "Please, just get some rest, I don't want to see you go through the punishments they are going through. And I don't want to experience them again." She turns to leave, the sadness in her eyes a stark contrast to the coldness in her voice. "Get some rest. You're going to need it."

Hermione watches Ginny leave the room. As soon as the door closes, she flops onto the bed, the mattress surprisingly firm underneath her. The coldness of the room seeps into her bones. She pulls the thin blanket over her body, but it does nothing to make her feel covered or give her warmth. At the very least it's clear that Ginny cares for her slightly, even if it's only to keep her from suffering further punishment. That small sliver of compassion is something she can use, she could turn Ginny back around. She knew it. She closes her eyes. 

Thoughts rushed through her mind like a river. She could feel every ache in her body, the stinging pain on her knees from the crawling. The one person she thought might be an ally had already proved to be anything but. The best thing to do would be to search the room for any sign of escape. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was too tired. To score. She wouldn't have been the first to check anyway.

It hadn't even been a full day, and she was losing hope. 

Even with Ginny acting as she was, Hermione had to protect her. Draco's threat of her friend getting punished was far too effective. Ginny seemed terrified of the punishments in her brief mentions of that. She couldn't hurt her friend. She would have to find another way. 

That's right. Another way. There was always another way. It was impossible for every single potential crack to be covered. She would escape. She would help her friends. Right?

Thanks to pure exhaustion, Hermione slowly drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were restless, filled with images of her friends and the battles they had faced together. Each face she saw in her slumber brought a stab of pain to her heart. She tossed and turned, her body unused to the harsh conditions. She wasn't going to give up, she was a Gryffindor, and she had survived worse before. She would escape, she would help Ginny, and she would fight back. But for now, she had to rest, to regain her strength, because tomorrow she had to play the part of the submissive, for Ginny's sake.

The next day, Ginny shakes Hermione awake with a firm but gentle hand. She's dressed in an outfit that makes Hermione's eyes widen in surprise. Ginny is dressed in what can only be described as a parody of the Hogwarts school uniform. Her skirt is so short that it barely covers the curve of her buttocks, revealing the lack of any underwear. Her crop top shirt is unbuttoned just enough to expose a generous amount of her ample cleavage, and she wears a Gryffindor tie around her neck, a sad reminder of their once proud house. Fishnet stockings hug her legs up to her thighs, and her shoes are a pair of stiletto heels that make her appear even more vulnerable than she already is. She looks at Hermione with a small smile, "Good morning, Mudblood. I'll be waiting downstairs for you. We have a long day ahead"

Hermione sat up, rubbing her eyes, She couldn't quite believe what Ginny was wearing. And she looked so comfortable in it. She couldn't help but think it was almost better to be permanently nude than have to wear something like that. Before she could reply she heard the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway. So, she slid out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold stone floor, and she followed Ginny's instructions. 

Hermione leaves her room and walks down the stairs into the main common room.  While it was completely empty last night it is now filled with the sight of several witches, most of them unrecognisable to her. Some wore a uniform similar to Ginny's. Others were completely nude like her. Some were instead dressed in nothing but lingerie. Hogwarts was reeducating anyone, so there was a variety of ages in the room. Some are much older than Hermione, some a bit younger. The only ones spared were the children. The few faces she does recognise are those of former upper-year students from her time at Hogwarts, but she couldn't find anyone here from her own year. 

Ginny walked up to Hermione, her skirt flaring around her as she walked.  "To avoid both of us the punishment, you're to crawl at all times in the corridors unless a pureblood gives you permission to stand. And if a pureblood tells you to do something, you do it without question. However, since you are new, you will be left alone for a few days." Her voice was still very cold.

Hermione nodded slowly, she would play along for now. "I understand, Ginny," she said with a forced calmness. "I'll do as you say, so you don't get hurt." Inside, she felt a boiling rage at the injustice of it all, but she pushed it down, burying it deep. For now, she had to be smart, to survive and to find a way to help her friend. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the long road ahead. "Are we going to head to the great hall for breakfast?"

Ginny nodded, her expression slightly softer at the mention of not wanting to cause Ginny pain. "We will, but it might take us longer than it used to." She paused, looking around the room. "You see, the purebloods enjoy seeing the mudbloods crawling around like animals. And they often enjoy using the girls before, or during breakfast.. So, we will likely encounter some on our way to the hall. They might stop me, or they might not. But I might as well warn you ahead of time. Like I said, they will leave you alone for the first few days."

Hermione's stomach clenched at the thought of what Ginny had just described, but she didn't let it show on her face. Instead, she took a deep, shaky breath and nodded firmly. "I'm ready, Ginny," she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "Let's just go to the Great Hall." She dropped down onto her knees and began to crawl behind Ginny, her eyes focused on the floor ahead of her, It was time to see just how bad Hogwarts had become. 

As they crawled through the corridor, a tall, snobbish pureblood wizard came into view. His eyes lit up at the sight of the two of them, especially Hermione. He sneered, "Looks like the rumours are true. They finally found the Granger bitch, your lucky I'm not allowed to fuck you for the first few days," he said, his voice dripping with malice. He reached out and smacked Ginny's exposed ass, the crack of his hand meeting flesh echoing off the walls. "And how are you doing little Miss Blood Traitor?"

Ginny's eyes widened at the smack but she quickly regained her composure. She leaned in, her breasts almost spilling out of her crop top as she kissed the pureblood's shoe, she eagerly replied,  "Oh, I'm doing just fine, thank you for asking, Master." She looked up at him, holding eye contact, "Please, may I have another spank, Master?" she begged. She arched her back slightly, showing her firm, toned ass proudly to him. Eager to show just how submissive she could be.

The pureblood's sneer grew into a cruel smile as he watched Ginny. He raised his hand again, and brought it down hard on her ass again, leaving a bright red handprint. "Good girl, I love when you sluts know your place." The pureblood wizard grabbed Ginny's chin roughly, forcing her to look up at him. "Open your mouth, bloodtraitor," he demanded. Ginny complied, happily sticking out her tongue and looking up at him He leaned down and spat a thick wad of saliva into her mouth, watching as she squirmed. 

Ginny swallows the spit with a gulp. She licks her lips and smiles up at him, "Thank you, Master, it's an honour to serve purebloods. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The pureblood seems satisfied with Ginny's display of subservience. "That's enough for now," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I have better things to do than waste my time on the likes of you." He gives her one more firm spank before turning to leave, the sound of his steps echoing down the hall as he disappears around the corner. Ginny watches him go, her eyes glazed over for a moment before she turns back to Hermione, her expression once again cold and detached. "Come on, we should get going," she says, straightening her tiny skirt slightly. 

Hermione couldn't hide her shock and horror at the way Ginny had just been treated. Even Draco hadn't been that bad. "Is that... is that going to happen a lot, Ginny?" she asks, her voice shaking slightly. "Being treated like... like that?" She struggles to find the words to express the depth of her concern.

"It happens all the time here, Hermione. And sometimes it's much, much worse," she adds, her eyes flicking to Hermione's face briefly before looking away. "But, you know, I've come to... enjoy it," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It can be fun to be obedient. And I'd do anything to avoid the punishment quarters again." As Ginny smiles Hermione notices that her hardened nipples were standing out through the thin fabric of the shirt, and she could see glistening arousal dripping down her thigh. She wasn't lying. Ginny really did seem to enjoy it. 

Hermione felt like her heart had stopped in her chest as she took in the sight of Ginny's obvious arousal. She couldn't believe her friend could find any pleasure in such degradation. She took a deep breath, trying to process everything. It felt like every minute she stayed here things just got worse and worse. She wanted to throw up. How could all of this have happened? 

To see Ginny so broken, so submissive, it was almost too much to bear. She had always thought she was stronger than this, that she could handle anything the world threw at her. But if they could do this to Ginny, then what hope did she have? With a deep, shaky breath, Hermione pushed the overwhelming thoughts to the back of her mind. She tried to reassure herself. It didn't matter what had happened to others. She would be different.  "L-Lets just keep going to the great hall"

Ginny nodded, "Alright, let's go," she said, her voice a little softer than before. 

As they crawled down the hallway towards the Great Hall, they encountered many more people. She couldn't believe the humiliation Ginny had to endure. The purebloods they passed by didn't hold back. They slapped her face, spanked her, and spat in her mouth, calling her every vile name under the sun. And yet, Ginny took it all in stride, with a smile on her face. Each time a hand struck her, she'd moan and press her body closer to the ground. It was a disturbing sight, and it made Hermione's skin crawl. 

Hermione made up her mind. She couldn't let them do this to her. She had to find a way to change their situation before she became like Ginny. Before they had the chance to abuse her like that.. Her eyes narrowed with determination as she crawled behind Ginny, her thoughts racing with plans of rebellion. She had to get to the bottom of this, find a weakness in the system, and exploit it. She was smart. She could do this. She would do this. 

After a long while, the duo eventually made their way to the great hall. 

A/N: Not a ton of smut stuff in this chapter, mostly just trying to set the tone for Hogwarts. Hermione's journey is going to be a pretty slow burn. It's not something that will get resolved in the next couple of chapters. 

I hope you enjoyed it! 

Chapter Text

Hermione and Ginny crawled past the spot where the house point hourglasses once stood. In its place, a series of propaganda posters were plastered, displaying messages of pureblood superiority and the necessity of the new regime. The images were stark and graphic, depicting scenes of mudbloods and blood traitors being punished for their impurity. 

The posters were designed to be as degrading as possible, with images of Muggle-borns and blood traitors kneeling before purebloods, their heads bowed in submission. Some depicted scenes of 'mudbloods' being whipped or forced to perform demeaning tasks. The colours were stark and harsh; the images were exaggerated to make the 'inferior' witches and wizards seem almost subhuman. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat as she took in the hateful messages, but she forced herself to look away, focusing instead on the path ahead and the need to keep her emotions in check.

Ginny led them around the corner and through the grand doors that led to the Great Hall.  The once-famous house tables had been replaced by a single, large table that stretched the length of the room. With only purebloods seated at its length.  The ceiling, which used to mimic the sky outside, now showed the night sky, with the ghostly green dark mark floating in the air.  Mudbloods and other blood traitors were scattered around the room, some on their knees under the pureblood's table, giving blowjobs to their superiors. Others dressed in skimpy maid outfits, serving food and drinks with downcast eyes. A couple knelt on the floor by the doors, begging for the scraps of any leftover food they could get their hands on. 

As they crawled forward into the hall, Hermione's eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar face - it was Lavender Brown. Her heart sank. Lavender, once her bubbly roommate, was now dressed as one of the maids.

Lavender bounces over to the purebloods' table, her ample chest nearly spilling out of the tight, low-cut uniform. Her curvy body jiggles as she carries a tray of food, her skirt so short that it barely covers her round ass. She giggles as she leans over, giving one of them a generous view of her cleavage, saying in a high-pitched voice, "Good morning, Master. What can I get you for breakfast?" Her eyes sparkle with adoration as she looks at the pureblood wizard in front of her, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

He looks up at Lavender Brown with a smug expression, eyeing her body as she leans over. He takes his time deciding, spending most of it looking at her tits. "I'll have a full English breakfast," he says finally, his voice dripping with entitlement. He gives her ass a firm squeeze. She giggles and nods eagerly before scurrying away, her steps light and quick, to fetch his meal. It's clear she's used to this treatment.

Hermione's stomach twists as she watches Lavender. The sight of her friend, her old roommate, someone she had spent so much time with, now reduced to this. She clenches her fists, fighting the urge to scream out in anger and despair. She can't help but look around the room, wondering how many more faces from her past were somewhere in the castle. 

Ginny leads Hermione to a corner of the room, whispering, "We have to wait for the purebloods to have finished eating to get our food. Sometimes they will take extra long just to mess with us. But for now, keep your head down."

Hermione sits down with her back pressed against the cold stone wall of the Great Hall, her eyes scanning the room. At the high table, she spots Draco Malfoy, the sadistic smirk on his face sending a shiver down her spine. He's not alone, of course; other old Slytherins, like Marcus Flint and Blaise Zabini, now wear professor robes and sit on either side of him. It's like a twisted reunion of her school days, one that she desperately wanted to leave. Off on the far end of the high table was another Death Eater she recognised, Augustus Rookwood. 

As she sits, Hermione turns to Ginny, "What do each of those professors teach? And who's the Headmaster?" She tries to keep the tremor from her voice.

"Draco Malfoy is in charge of Obedience and Subservience Training." Ginny's voice is flat as she speaks. "Blaise Zabini handles The History of Pure-Blood Triumphs, which is a class focused on the war. Marcus Flint is in charge of Quidditch, which is just a competition amongst purebloods now." She swallows hard. "As for the Headmaster, it's not someone I'd like to talk about."

Hermione's eyes widen slightly at the mention of the classes. She nods slowly, trying to piece together the new regime's structure. "Ginny, come on, just tell me. Who is the headmaster?" she asks again, her voice a little more insistent. "Is it... Snape?"

Ginny's eyes dart around the room nervously before she leans closer to Hermione. In a barely audible whisper, she says, "It's not Snape, thankfully. He left as soon as he could. No, the one holding the reins here is much, much worse. It's a headmistress in fact, Bellatrix Lestrange." A shiver runs down her spine. "But she's not here right now, she's often away from the castle on... business." 

Hermione's body stiffens at the name Bellatrix Lestrange. Memories of that cruel, horrible woman flood back to her. She had tortured her at Malfoy Manor. She couldn't imagine what she would do to her here. Her heart racing as she recalls the viciousness in Bellatrix's eyes. She swallows hard, trying to keep the panic at bay. "Bellatrix? She's the headmistress?!" Her voice is a mix of horror and disbelief. "But she's... she's insane!" Hermione whispers, her mind racing with fearful thoughts of what kind of 'business' Bellatrix could be attending to, and what the consequences might be if they ever cross paths again.

Ginny nods solemnly,  "Yes, Bellatrix is the headmistress. And she's the one who came up with all of this," she says, her voice low, "Everything we're going through, every rule we're forced to follow, every humiliation we endure. Every time we crawl, every class we attend.  It's all because of her. She's the one who's decided that mudbloods and blood traitors should be able to attend in the first place." 

Ginny continues,  "If it weren't for her, we'd be dead. Or maybe somehow worse. We're alive, we're in Hogwarts. And we have a purpose here, even if it's not what we wanted back then. I'm very grateful for Headmistress Belatrix."

Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes as she processed Ginny's words. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She felt so alone, so defeated. As the purebloods ate and laughed, she sat frozen in the corner, her knees digging into the cold, hard stone of the Great Hall floor. The sound of their silverware clinking against plates and their heartless banter echoed through the hall, taunting her. She couldn't believe that this was her life now, that she was forced to crawl and serve these monsters. She took deep, shaky breaths, willing herself to remain strong. She closed her eyes shut. Willing herself to think of anything other than the reality in front of her. An hour passed, and the room grew quiet as the purebloods finished their meal, the only sound being the occasional giggle.

Ginny nudges Hermione gently with her elbow, whispering, "They're done eating now." She motions towards the now-empty table, "We can eat now. It's not much, but it's better than nothing." 

Hermione nods weakly and follows Ginny's lead, approaching the high table. The leftover food had all been laid out on the table; it was cold now, but she was starving. She watches as the other witches slowly come forward and join them. Ginny graciously picks at the scraps, ensuring Hermione has enough. Hermione tries to ignore the bitter taste of defeat as she eats. She takes a deep breath and starts to eat, her eyes never leaving the ground, her thoughts racing.

"Oh, Hermione, Ginny!" Lavender Brown squeaks, her eyes lighting up as she bounces over to the table where the two are eating. She's still wearing her maid's uniform. "You're here!" She giggles, setting down a fresh pitcher of pumpkin juice and a platter of slightly burnt toast. "Isn't it just so delightful to serve our betters?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. 

Ginny smiles weakly at Lavender, swallowing a mouthful of food. She tries to keep her voice light and casual, "It's been great!" she says, her eyes briefly flicking to Hermione before looking back at her friend. "What have you been up to, Lav? Besides serving breakfast, I mean."

"Oh, you know me, always eager to please!" Lavender giggles, her eyes shining. "Master Flint has asked me to be a cheerleader for the upcoming Quidditch season!" She practically squeaks with excitement. "He said I have the perfect spirit for it. I get to wear an adorable little outfit and cheer for the teams!" She bounces in place, her eyes wide with joy. "It's going to be such a blast! I can't wait to show you all the cute little cheers everyone has come up with!" 

"That's just fabulous, Lavender!" Ginny exclaims, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Cheerleading is a perfect role for someone as bubbly as you! Why do you think Master Flint chose you?"

"Master Flint says it's because I have the best tits in the whole school!" Lavender giggles, her cheeks flushing with pride. "He says he loves watching them bounce. It's so nice to get compliments from the purebloods. It makes me feel like I'm serving my purpose!" Her eyes shine with a mix of excitement and contentment. 

Hermione stares at her plate, barely touching the food. She feels a cold numbness spread through her as she tries to process what she's hearing. She can't believe her friends have accepted this new reality so readily. She can't help but think that she's losing her mind, that this can't be real. She glances up at Ginny, searching for a hint of the fiery Gryffindor she used to know, but sees nothing. Just a smile on her face as she talks to Lavender.

"Oh, by the way, Hermione," Lavender pulls Hermione out of her thoughts, her eyes wide with curiosity. "When did you arrive here? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen you around yet." She giggles,

"I was... brought here last night," Hermione says, her voice flat, trying to keep the fear from showing. She takes a sip of the pumpkin juice, which is now lukewarm and slightly bitter. "I'm still adjusting to all the new... changes." She swallows hard, the lie feeling thick in her throat. "It's all so different from what I remember." She looks up at Lavender and Ginny, trying to gauge their reactions.

"Don't worry, Hermione!" Lavender says brightly, her smile never wavering. "You'll catch on quickly! The purebloods here are so good at teaching us our place. Just remember to be grateful for every little thing they give us and always be eager to serve!" Her eyes were sparkling with what seemed to be genuine excitement.

Hermione forces a smile onto her face, nodding at Lavender's words, trying to keep the nausea at bay. "Of course, I'm just happy to be here," she said,  her voice a hollow echo of her usual self. Inside, she's screaming, planning, calculating. 

Ginny looks at Lavender with a gentle smile, nodding. "You're right, Lavender. Hermione will be sharing the same classes as me. Which means right after this, all three of us have got History of Pureblood Triumphs with Professor Zabini! It's a really important subject, Hermione, there is so much to remember!" 

"Oh, Hermione, you're going to love it!" Lavender giggles, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "I mean, you're so smart, it'll be a breeze for you! Professor Zabini keeps telling me I'm just a ditz and I can't remember anything. But I think the purebloods like me that way, you know?" She said with a serene smile on her face, "But you, you're the brainiac! You'll pick it all up in no time!"

Hermione nods with a forced smile,  "I'm sure I'll love it, Lavender. History is very important after all", she says, her tone light despite the heaviness in her heart. She quickly started eating more of her food, eager not to have to continue the conversation. 

Ginny and Lavender talked about their various classes and other students, which Hermione tuned out. She didn't want to hear more for her sanity. She just focused on her food. After around 10 minutes, Ginny nudged Hermione, "Alright, we should get going, girls." Ginny says, "History of Pureblood Triumphs awaits, and we can't have Hermione be late to her first class!" She smiles at Lavender and Hermione

Lavender Brown, her eyes sparkling with excitement, quickly gets on her hands and knees. She starts to crawl ahead, her maid's outfit riding up. She glances back at Ginny and Hermione, her voice a cheerful squeak, "Come on, girls! Let's go!" She wiggles her hips slightly, as if to encourage them, her smile never faltering. Ginny quickly followed. Hermione took a long, deep breath. She didn't have much of a choice. Despite how insane Ginny was acting, she couldn't let her friend get hurt. She followed the others' lead, dropping to her hands and knees. 

As they reach the classroom, which is eerily empty, Ginny glances at the time on a nearby clock. "Looks like we're a bit early," she says, her voice filled with a hint of relief. "But better early than late, right?" Ginny says with a smile. She looks around the corridor, noticing the lack of students and professor Zabini, she starts to explain the subject, "This is where we'll be learning about our true history. It's so important to know where we come from"

"Oh, I just love History of Pureblood Triumphs!" Lavender says, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. "It's like, the most amazing thing ever, learning about all the purebloods who did such fabulous things!" She giggles, "And Professor Zabini is just so dreamy!" She sighs dramatically, "He's like a knight in shining armour, telling us all about how we should be grateful for our place in the world!" She starts to straighten her apron.

Just as Lavender finishes her sentence, a tall, black-haired boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes enters the room. His presence is commanding, and he strides in with an air of authority. "Lavender," he says, his voice smooth and cold, "Remember your manners. It's 'Master Zabini to you'." He approaches her, and without warning, he lifts his hand and gives her a firm spank on the ass.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Master Zabini!" Lavender squeaks, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. She quickly gets on her hands and knees and crawls over to him, her eyes downcast. She kisses the toes of his polished boots, her voice filled with genuine apology. "Forgive me, please!" She looks up at him with a hopeful expression, her doe eyes brimming with fear. "I'll be a good little maid and remember to call you 'Master' from now on!" She whispers, her voice shaking slightly.

Blaise couldn't help but laugh at the little display. He looked down at Lavender, her eyes wide and her cheek red from his spank. "It's quite all right, my dear," he said, patting her head condescendingly. "I know how much of a dumb bimbo you are. But you're improving." He turned his gaze to Hermione, his smile growing into a predatory smirk. "As for Miss Granger," he said, his voice dropping to a lower octave, "I can't wait to see how long it takes me to break that infamous spirit of yours." He licked his lips, his eyes raking over her body. "You're going to learn to love serving your betters, I promise you that." His words hung in the air like a dark promise, and for a moment, the room seemed to close in around her.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the sight of Blaise's smug grin. She felt the heat of anger and humiliation rising within her, but she remained silent, staring at him with a cold, unwavering gaze. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, of showing any fear or weakness. 

Ginny's eyes snapped to Blaise, and she immediately dropped into a submissive posture, "I'm so sorry, Master Zabini," she said, her voice low and meek. "Hermione is new here; she doesn't understand the proper way of things yet. I'll make sure she learns to behave." She casts a sidelong glance at Hermione, her eyes pleading. "Isn't that right, Hermione?" she prompts, her voice a soft, yet firm whisper. She bows her head, her eyes still on the floor. "We're here to serve and to learn, aren't we?" She says with full conviction. 

With a deep, resentful breath, Hermione slowly lowered herself into a bow, her head pressing against the floor. She kept her eyes downcast, refusing to meet Blaise's gaze. "I apologise for any misunderstanding, Master Zabini," she murmured, her voice tight and filled with barely contained anger. Every word was a knife in her throat, but she forced them out. "I am eager to learn and serve as is expected of me." She clenched her fists at her sides.

Professor Zabini's smirk grew wider at Hermione's forced submission. "Very well," he said, his voice still laced with amusement. "But I expect you to learn quickly, Miss Granger. The sooner you accept your place, the less... unpleasant this experience will be for you." He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out to grip her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. "Understood?" His grip was firm, almost painful, as he waited for her response.

Hermione nodded, "Perfectly, Master Zabini," she said, her voice a cold, brittle whisper. 

Satisfied with Hermione's response, Blaise Zabini turned his attention to Ginny and Lavender. "Now, you two blood traitors," he said, his eyes scanning over them hungrily, "It seems we have some time to kill before the other students arrive. You'll both have to entertain me. Strip." He gestured lazily with his wand, his gaze never leaving their faces. 

With surprising enthusiasm, Lavender Brown began to strip off her maid's outfit. Her small, pale hands trembled slightly as she untied the ribbon around her neck, allowing the frilly collar to fall away from her soft skin. Her eyes remained glued to the floor as she slipped the dress off her shoulders, revealing her full, round breasts. They bounced gently as she dropped the dress to the floor. She stepped out of the pool of fabric and kicked it aside, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor.  She stood before him, her hands folded demurely over her stomach.

Ginny took a deep, steadying breath, and she began to strip. Her eyes never left the floor as she unbuttoned her school uniform shirt, her full breasts straining against the fabric before it too fell to the ground. Her toned stomach was exposed, a testament to her previous Quidditch training, and her hips swayed slightly as she stepped out of her skirt, revealing her bare pussy. She folded her clothes neatly, placing them aside before she dropped to her knees, her palms flat on the cold stone. Her eyes remained downcast, her cheeks a rosy hue of embarrassment that clashed with the fiery locks of hair that fell around her. "What next, Master Zabini?" she asked

Professor Zabini's eyes roved over the two of them, his gaze lingering on the swells of their breasts and their exposed cunts. He licked his lips, savouring the power he had over them. "Now, my dear blood traitors," he purred, his voice thick with lust, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of each of their hair, yanking them forwards and making them crawl into the classroom. He took a seat at his desk with the two girls in front of him.  His grip was cruel, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Now, I want both of you to worship me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Use those pretty little mouths of yours to show me just how much you want to stay in my good graces. Use your tits too."

Lavender quickly shuffled closer to him on her hands and knees, her bare skin brushing against the cold floor. With trembling hands, she unzipped his pants, revealing his massive, erect 7-inch cock. Her eyes widened in awe. "It's so big and beautiful!" she cooed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. She took it in her small hands, stroking it gently as if it were a delicate, precious object. "I love serving your big cock, Master," she murmured, leaning in to press a soft, reverent kiss to its tip. 

Ginny's heart raced as she saw the hunger in Professor Zabini's eyes. She knew what he liked, she knew what he expected. She didn't have to be told twice. She eagerly crawled closer to him, her breasts swaying slightly with each movement. Without a word, she wrapped her warm, full tits around his shaft, her pink nipples standing erect as they grazed the sensitive skin of his cock. She looked over at Lavender, who was still kissing the tip. She slowly started to move her breasts up and down.

As Ginny began to glide her voluptuous tits up and down the lower half of Professor Zabini's impressive length, Lavender focused her efforts on the upper half. She leaned in, her soft, pink lips parting as she took him into her mouth. Her eyes never left his, filled with a mix of fear and excitement. She could feel his cock pulse in her grip, growing harder as she worked the tip with her tongue. Each time she took him in deeper, her throat constricting around him, she felt a thrill of pleasure. She bobbed her head in a steady rhythm, her cheeks hollowing with the effort.

Professor Zabini's grip on their hair tightened as he watched the two girls worship his cock. His eyes were glazed with lust as he enjoyed the dual sensations of Ginny's soft, warm breasts and Lavender's wet, eager mouth. His hips began to buck slightly, fucking Lavender's face in a gentle rhythm that grew more demanding with each passing moment. "That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. "Just like that." He leaned back in his chair, watching the two of them, his cock disappearing and reappearing between their lips and breasts.  He could feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening with every stroke of their tongues and squeeze of their tits. "You're both such good little whores," he said.

 "Oh yes, Master Zabini, we're just your filthy little blood traitors, aren't we?" She began to talk dirty to him, her words designed to both demean herself and Lavender, while simultaneously inflating his ego. "Your cock is so much bigger than any of those weak, pathetic Muggle-loving boys we used to know. It's like we've been waiting for a real man to come along and show us our place." She watched him out of the corner of her eye, her cheeks red with arousal as she continued to pump him with her breasts. "We're just here to serve, to make sure you're satisfied. And if you want us to swallow your pureblood cum, we'll do it eagerly."

With a smug grin, Professor Zabini pulled Lavender off his cock, her eyes watering slightly as she gasped for air. "On your knees," he barked, releasing Ginny's hair and pointing to the floor in front of his desk. "Both of you, side by side." They obeyed without question. He stood up, his erection towering over them. "Now, beg for my seed," he said, stroking himself slowly. "Beg for it like the pathetic whores you are."

"P-please, Master," Lavender's voice was trembling, a mix of fear and excitement, "please give us the honour of tasting your pure, powerful cum. We're nothing but your servants, and your release is what we live for." She leaned in closer. She licked her lips, her eyes never leaving his cock, and whispered, "We'll do anything for it, just please, let us be worthy."

Ginny swallowed hard, her cheeks flushed. "We're just your obedient little sluts, Master," she agreed. "We're here to please you in any way you want." She glanced at Lavender, then back at Zabini. "Please," she begged, "fill our mouths with your pureblood cum. We'll swallow it all down, eagerly, just to show how much we've embraced our place in your world."

Professor Zabini's chest heaved with each breath, his hand moving faster on his cock as he stared down at the two kneeling girls.  He stroked himself faster, his eyes flicking between their faces. Suddenly, with a roar of pleasure, he came, his thick, hot semen spurting out in powerful jets, painting their faces with his pureblood seed. The girls leaned in, their mouths open, eager to catch as much as they could. Some of it landed on their tongues, and they swallowed reflexively, their eyes closed in what looked like ecstasy. As he finished, they remained still, panting, their cheeks sticky with cum. He stepped back, his cock still semi-hard, and smirked down at them. "Clean yourselves up, my pets. Class starts soon, and I expect you to be clean by then."

As Hermione watched Ginny and Lavender on their knees, her heart ached and her stomach churned. The sight of her once strong, proud friends begging and serving a man like Zabini was horrible. Everything so far today had been horrible.  She felt utterly disgusted by the degradation unfolding before her, but she forced herself to remain calm. She took a shaky breath and leaned back on her heels, her eyes never leaving the floor. She thought escaping wouldn't be hard, but it was starting to prove nearly impossible. She was losing hope. 

She watched on as Lavender and Ginny started to clean the semen from each other's faces. Their tongues eagerly lapping at each other. She couldn't become like them. She just couldn't. 

A/N: Bit of a longer one.  Things aren't looking up for Hermione yet. Who knows if they will? I hope you enjoyed it!

Chapter Text

Hermione had sat through a mind-numbingly awful lesson from Professor Zabini, filled with lies about history, speaking of the superiority of purebloods and the inferiority of Muggle-borns and blood traitors. Her stomach had turned with every word that left his vile mouth, but she had to keep up the facade. She had to play the obedient, submissive student.

It had been piece after piece of things that never happened. The things she had lived through, things she had fought for, were being misrepresented to everyone at Hogwarts.  

She was currently crawling through the halls with Ginny; Lavender had left them not long after their class had ended. The castle felt eerie in its quiet, the echoes of their crawling the only sound in the empty corridors. 

Hermione's mind had been racing during the entirety of Professor Zabini's class. Two things had become clear to her. Firstly, she had to find any of her old friends who hadn't succumbed to this hell. Maybe others were as desperate to escape as she was. And if there were, it was her duty to help them escape. And it would be much easier with someone to help her. 

The second thing was that she had to find her way to the Room of Requirement. She had made plenty of good use of the room before. If there was anywhere in this nightmarish version of the castle that she could exploit to find a way out, it was that room. It had a way of providing what was needed in times of desperation. And she needed it now more than ever. She had to sneak in, unnoticed by the watchful eyes of the Death Eaters and hope that it would give her the solution she so desperately sought. 

It was by far her best idea yet, but she knew it wasn't without its risks. She would need a moment of privacy to put it into action, a feat that seemed near impossible in this regime where every corner felt like it had a pair of eyes on her. Looking over at Ginny, she felt a pang of sadness mixed with determination. Ginny had submitted, but she had to believe there was still hope for her. However, she couldn't risk telling her about the Room of Requirement. She would have to find another way to gather information. 

Ginny looked at Hermione and sighed. She could see the wheels turning in her friend's mind, the fierce determination to find a way out, to fight back. "Hermione," she whispered urgently, her voice strained with desperation, "please, for the love of Merlin, just let it go." She paused, her voice cracking slightly. "They've changed me, Hermione. They can do the same to you. It's not worth it. Just... do as you're told. Please. I don't want to have to be punished again," Her eyes searched Hermione's, filled with a mix of pleading and fear. 

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the weight of Ginny's words. She knew Ginny had suffered. With a forced smile, she spoke up, "I will, Ginny," she lied, trying to ease the tension in the air. "I just need to know where we're heading next. I didn't ask when we left the classroom." She hoped the lie didn't show on her face. 

Ginny nodded, the relief palpable in her voice as she replied, "We're on our way to Professor Malfoy's class, Hermione." The mention of his name sent a shiver down her spine, a reminder of the cruel reality they were living in. "As I told you earlier, he teaches obedience and subservience training. It's a mandatory class for all Muggle-borns and blood traitors." Ginny took a deep breath. You will have to be on your best behaviour. Professor Malfoy will look for any reason to punish you." 

Hermione felt a cold knot form in her stomach at the mention of Professor Malfoy's class. She had been dreading the thought of being taught by him of all people. "I understand," she murmured, her eyes never leaving the floor. The memory of his smug face and the way he had looked at her when she was under the influence of the potion would never leave her mind. She knew that he would torment her forever if he had his way. It was going to be horrible. 

They continued to crawl, their movements echoing softly through the deserted corridor. The walls felt closer, the air thicker with each step they took towards the classroom. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest, her palms slick with a cold sweat. She couldn't help but feel a sense of dread, her mind racing with thoughts of the horrors that awaited her. 

As they turned the corner and finally arrived at the classroom, Hermione's heart skipped a beat. There, in front of the door, stood Draco Malfoy, his tall frame casting a shadow over the two students kneeling before him. To her disgust, she realised with a start that the students were Padma and Parvati Patil. They were her old classmates, once confident and intelligent young women, and now their heads were bobbing up and down as they serviced their Draco's erect cock. 

Padma held the back of her sister's head in her hands, pushed her twin's head faster up and down Draco's cock, making her mouth nothing more than a fleshlight, "We're nothing but worthless mudbloods, aren't we?  "Inferior, just like the books say," she continued, her voice low and filled with a forced submission. "We're so sorry, Professor Malfoy," she whispered, her hand moving in a blur as she pumped her sister's head, "for being such dumb blood traitors. Our only worth is to serve as sex slaves!"

Draco looked up from the twins, his grey eyes cold and calculating as he caught sight of Hermione and Ginny. "Ah, Weaslette", he drawled, using Ginny's surname with a sneer. "I see you've brought our new toy with you." He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the twins before his eyes snapped to Ginny. "You can take over for Parvati," he ordered, his voice clipped. "Miss Granger, sit over there." He pointed to a chair in the corner of the room, "unless of course you want another dose of that wonderful potion."

Hermione's whole body was trembling as she watched the scene unfold before her. "Yes... master," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She sat up against the wall, her eyes wide with horror, as Ginny began to crawl eagerly towards Draco. She felt a surge of revulsion, but she knew she had to keep her composure. Padma and Parvati didn't so much as glance at her; their eyes remained fixed on the task at hand. It was as if they had been trained to ignore everyone else's existence.

Ginny looked up at Draco with a shy smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She scurried forward, "Thank you, master," she cooed, placing a soft, reverent kiss on the tip of his shoe. "Your cock is so... so... wonderful, master," she murmured, her voice filled with adoration. She couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as she took his still-erect member in her mouth. Her tongue swirled around it, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked eagerly. She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes filled with love and devotion. "I live to serve you," she whispered, her voice muffled by his flesh. Her hand moved to gently cup his balls, massaging them with a practised touch. 

Parvati gasped for air as Draco pulled her off, her eyes watering. "Thank you, Master," she breathed, her voice hoarse. "It is such an honour to have my mouth used by you." She looked up at him with a mix of fear and longing. "I... I am not worthy," she murmured, her eyes cast down in submission. She licked her lips, savouring the taste of him.

Draco's cold grey eyes took in the scene before him with a twisted sense of satisfaction. His gaze fell upon the twins, their heads still bowed before him, their bodies trembling with anticipation. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice like a whip crack in the quiet room. The twins obeyed instantly, their dark eyes meeting his. "Now, stand up," he said, his tone softer, almost a caress. "Bend over and present yourselves to me," he continued, his voice dripping with a mix of dominance and desire. 

The twins scurried to comply, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. They bent over the desk in front of him, their firm asses in the air, their skirts hiked up to expose their bare bottoms. Draco took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, the curves of their buttocks, the skin that was soon to be marked with his hand. He reached out and traced his fingers over the soft flesh, watching as they quivered beneath his touch. 

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on Padma's behind. She yelped, her cheeks reddening. "Good," he said, his voice approving. "Now, you," he said to Parvati, his hand poised to strike. "Count for me," he ordered. She took a deep breath and nodded, her eyes squeezed shut. "One," she whispered as he brought his hand down on her ass.

Ginny focused on worshipping his cock, her eyes never leaving his face as she worked. She knew that she had to be the best, had to show her dedication to him above all others. She had seen what happened to those who failed to satisfy him. 

Her hand moved to stroke his balls, her thumb gently brushing against his perineum. Draco's hips bucked slightly at the sensation, his hand tightening in her hair. Ginny took this as a sign of approval and increased her pace, her cheeks hollowing with each bob of her head. 

Draco's hand fell in a steady rhythm, each smack echoing through the room. The twins' cries grew louder with each hit, their bodies writhing in pleasure and pain. "You're such good little blood traitors," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. 

Padma's voice was ragged with need, "Yes, Master. We deserve it. We're not worthy of being treated as humans." Parvati nodded fervently in agreement, her eyes glazed with a mix of pain and pleasure. "We should have no rights, Master. We're just here to serve."

Draco's hand paused in mid-air, his eyes scanning the room with a sense of pride at the scene before him. "Very good," he praised, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're learning so well. You truly understand your place now." He leaned back in his chair, his cock standing tall and proud as Ginny's ministrations brought him closer to climax.

With a sudden, violent motion, he spat on the floor, the glob of saliva landing between the twins' bent-over forms.

Parvati's eyes snapped to the spit, her whole body quivering with excitement. Without hesitation, she leaned down, her tongue flicking out to eagerly lap up the salty liquid from the cold stone. "Thank you, Master," she whimpered, her eyes never leaving his. "Your saliva is far more than we blood traitors deserve to have. Thank you so much!"

Draco's laugh was cold and mocking, echoing through the room like a taunt to Hermione's very soul. He watched her with a smug grin, "Look at her," he sneered, "so eager to be degraded. It's pathetic, really." He leaned forward, his hand tightening in Ginny's hair, forcing her to take his length deeper into her throat. She gagged and choked around his cock, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fought to keep going. "You're just like her, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low and malicious. "A desperate little whore who'll do anything your superiors please."

Ginny nodded her head vigorously, her eyes watering as she tried to focus on the task at hand. The cock was buried deep in her throat, blocking her airway, and she could feel her lungs screaming for oxygen. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red from the effort, and she knew she was pushing her limits. She had learned, though, that pleasing Draco was the only way to avoid the painful consequences of disobedience. With a whimper, she bobbed her head faster, her eyes never leaving his. The feeling of his cock stretching her mouth, the smell of his arousal, the taste of him on her tongue - it was all she could focus on. Her hands gripped his thighs tightly, her nails digging in slightly as she desperately fought the urge to pull away and gasp for breath. She knew that to serve him properly, she had to endure, had to be the perfect little servant. And so she did, her eyes glazed over with a mix of desperation and something else, something darker that she didn't dare to acknowledge.

With a grunt of pleasure, Draco pulled out of Ginny's mouth, a rope of saliva connecting them briefly before snapping. He looked at her with a mix of contempt and satisfaction, watching her gulp for air. He knew that she had enjoyed it, that she had been programmed to crave his attention, his dominance. He stood up, his cock still hard and demanding. 

As soon as Draco stood, Parvati and Padma scurried to position themselves in front of him, bending over again, this time spreading their legs wide. They both looked up at him with desperate, needy eyes, their pussies glistening with excitement. "Master, please," Parvati begged, her voice trembling with desire, "we need you to claim us. We're so empty without your cock inside us." Padma echoed her sister's words, her voice a whine of longing, "We're just dirty blood traitors, Master. We need you to cleanse us." They both reached back and spread their cheeks, displaying themselves shamelessly. "Take us," they pleaded in unison, their bodies shaking with anticipation.

Draco's grin grew wider, a twisted smile that didn't quite reach his cold, grey eyes. "Such eager little whores," he murmured, his voice a caress. He stepped closer to Parvati, his cock nudging against her wet folds. He slid into her with a groan of pleasure, her cunt tight and hot around him. He felt her body convulse around his length, her muscles squeezing him tightly. She moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head as she was filled by him. Draco leaned over, placing a hand on her back to hold her in place as he began to fuck her with long, slow strokes. Each thrust sent a bolt of pleasure through him, each gasp from her lips music to his ears. He knew that she was his, that she would do anything for him, and that thought only served to make him harder. 

He pulled out of Parvati, her body trembling with the loss of him. Without a word, he moved to Padma, plunging into her just as deeply. She cried out, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut. He didn't care if she enjoyed it or not, only that she knew her place. He fucked her with the same rhythm, watching as she bit her lip to stifle her sounds of ecstasy. "Good girls," he murmured, his voice filled with a malicious pride. "You know how to serve your master."

Padma felt the heat of Draco's body against her back, his cock sliding deep inside her. She moaned loudly, pushing back against him, eager to take every inch he had to give. The sensation was almost overwhelming. "Yes, Master," she panted, "yes, please, fuck me harder!" Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through her.

Draco turned to Ginny, his eyes glinting with a mix of desire and malice. "Lube up her ass for me," he ordered, gesturing to Parvati. "Use your tongue. Make sure she's nice and ready to be claimed."

Ginny looked at him with wide eyes, her heart racing. She knew what he meant; she didn't expect to be asked to do such a thing.  She had learned that Draco didn't take no for an answer, though. With trembling hands, she approached Parvati, who looked at her with a mix of anticipation and fear. Ginny dropped to her knees behind her, her heart hammering in her chest. She leaned in, her tongue flicking out to taste the salty sweetness of Parvati's sex. She licked up the crack of her ass, feeling the muscles tense beneath her touch. With a sense of detachment, she knew she had to do this, to serve Draco in every way she could. She pushed her tongue inside, feeling the tight ring of muscle resist before giving way. Parvati moaned, her body trembling, as Ginny worked her tongue, spreading the lubricant from her cunt to her ass. She knew that Draco would expect her to be perfect, to make sure that Parvati was ready for his cock without hesitation. And so she continued, her tongue moving in and out, until she could feel Parvati's body relax, and she knew she was ready.

With a sadistic smirk, Draco pulled out of Padma's pussy and moved behind Parvati, his cock slick with her sister's juices. He didn't bother to give her a warning, just pushed inside her tight asshole in one swift motion. Parvati's body tensed around him, her eyes watering with pain. But Draco didn't care. He began to fuck her with the same rhythm he had used on Padma, each stroke sending shockwaves through her body. He felt her tighten around him, her muscles trying to push him out, but he was too strong, too in control. He leaned down, his hand snaking around her neck, his fingers tightening slightly. "You're doing so well, Parvati," he murmured, his voice a dark purr in her ear. "Just let me use you like the toy you are."

Parvarti's breath came in ragged gasps as Draco's cock plunged deeper and deeper inside her. "Yes, Master," she whimpered, her voice shaking. "Use me, make me yours." The words spilt out of her like a prayer, a declaration of her complete and utter surrender. Her body responded, her ass clenching around him.

Draco felt the pressure building in his balls, the need to come overwhelming.  He gripped Parvati's hips tightly, pulling her back onto his cock as he thrust into her. His strokes grew erratic, his breathing harsh. "You're going to take my cum in your ass," he growled, his voice filled with lust and dominance. "You're going to love it, aren't you?"

Parvati's eyes rolled back in her head, and she nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Master," she managed to stutter out, her voice trembling. "I'll take it all, I'll do anything for you." The room was spinning, her senses overwhelmed by the painful pleasure of his thick cock in her ass and the humiliation of her situation. Yet, she found herself craving more, eager to prove herself worthy of his seed.

With a roar of pleasure, Draco erupted inside Parvati, filling her ass with his hot, sticky cum. She convulsed around him, her body trying to adjust to the sudden influx. His grip on her hips tightened, holding her in place as he emptied himself into her. When he was done, he pulled out, leaving her panting and trembling. Parvati's legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, her ass red and gaping from the brutal use. She lay there, eyes glazed over, a mix of pain and ecstasy on her face. "Thank you, Master," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you for using me."

Draco turned to Hermione, his eyes gleaming with a cruel anticipation. "Look at her," he sneered, gesturing to the whimpering mess that was Parvati on the floor. "That's what happens to those who dare to stand against us." He took a step closer to her, his cock still hard and glistening with the twins' combined juices. "Soon enough, it'll be you, you little bitch," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "And it'll be much, much worse. You'll beg for it, just like they do. You'll crave the pain, the degradation. And I'll give it to you, every inch of it. I can't wait to break you, to watch you fall apart for me." His hand reached out, tracing a line from her chin down to her collarbone. 

Hermione swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest. She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed. Her friends were reduced to nothing more than mindless, obedient sex toys for Draco's amusement. She felt sick to her stomach, and her voice trembled as she forced the words out, "Yes, Master," trying to hide the terror that gripped her. Inside, she was screaming, her mind racing with thoughts of escape and rebellion. But she knew that she had to play along, to bide her time until she could find a way out. The sight of Parvati and Padma's shattered spirits was almost too much to bear. She had seen the fire in their eyes, the strength that once was, now extinguished into a pitiful flicker of fear and need. It was a stark reminder of what awaited her if she didn't escape. She took a deep, shaky breath and hoped that she could hold on to her sanity long enough to find a way to end this nightmare.

Chapter Text

Hermione Granger woke in the Gryffindor dormitory, the early morning air biting her bare skin. Early morning light, grey and thin, seeped through the narrow window, casting long shadows across her petite frame. Her small, perky breasts rose with each shallow breath, flat stomach taut with tension, shaven pussy exposed and vulnerable beneath the sheet she clutched close to her. Faint freckles dusted her shoulders, and her bushy hair was completely tangled and strewn across the pillow. 

She sat up, heart thudding, as she scanned the sparse dorm. Two new girls had appeared two nights ago; they had both completely ignored her. Spending most of their time silently sobbing.  They were both still asleep now, curled fetal under their thin blankets. One, a curvy girl with matted blonde hair, bore a large bruise snaking her thigh; the other, darker-haired, had multiple welted lash marks across her body, stark against pale skin. 

Both looked utterly dejected, faces hollow even in sleep, as if hope had been carved out of them. Hermione’s stomach twisted; she didn’t want to imagine the horrors they’d endured. Ginny had said they had been through the punishment wing. She could only imagine it was the same place that had completely broken Ginny, too. She had seemed terrified of the place.

Hermione took a deep breath, the cold air sharp in her lungs. She was up early, before most others would be stirring. Ginny’s words from last night echoed in her mind. 

"You have to go to Professor Malfoy’s office, first thing. No excuses. His orders. Or I'll be punished."

 The command left no room for defiance, not when Ginny’s eyes had flickered with dread. Hermione felt the weight of it, the utter lack of choice pressing her down like a physical force. A week in this nightmare version of Hogwarts, seven days of crawling, taunts, and twisted lessons, had taught her that resistance came at a cost. They seemed to know everyone's weakness. She couldn't get Ginny hurt; she was her friend. No matter what Ginny said, no matter how twisted she became, Hermione couldn't hurt her friend. She barely had any left.

She’d been lucky, if you could call it that, to avoid any one-on-one encounters with Draco since that first humiliating day. The memory of his cold hands, his sneering insistence on calling him “Master,” still burned, leaving her skin crawling. Dreading the meeting, she slid out of the bed, bare feet meeting icy stone. She winced slightly. But she had no choice. She just had to go. She slipped toward the door, heart hammering, praying the halls would be empty this early.

Hermione slipped down the stairs and out of the common room, her bare feet padding softly against the cold stone floor. She walked nude through Hogwarts’ halls. She knew she was meant to crawl, yet he clung to the scraps of dignity she had left, though the exposure made her skin prickle with dread. The corridors, once warm with memories, now loomed with menace. Various slogans adorned the hallways. One, in bold scarlet ink, “Mudbloods and Blood Traitors: Crawl as You Were Born to Serve.” The irony stung as she forced herself upright, shoulders squared, refusing to drop to her knees. Her heart thudded louder with every corner turned, ears straining for footsteps or the telltale swish of a pureblood’s robes.

As she moved, Hermione’s mind churned. Hogwarts was a prison now. She hated it, the way it stripped her bare in every sense, grinding her spirit down with each forced “Master” or public degradation. Escape consumed her thoughts. There has to be a way out. She’d found no sympathetic allies yet. Not in Ginny’s vacant obedience, not in Lavender’s bubbly surrender, not even in the broken girls in her dorm. No one dared support her desire to escape. The hope of the Room of Requirement haunted her, a flicker of hope she hadn’t yet reached. After Malfoy’s office, she was finally going to try to sneak in there. It’s her last chance. Her jaw tightened, resolve hardening despite the dread pooling in her gut. She just had to survive this meeting first.

Hermione reached the heavy oak door of Professor Malfoy’s office, her knuckles trembling as she forced herself to knock. The sound echoed like a gavel’s fall, and within moments, the door creaked open. Draco Malfoy stood framed in the doorway, tall and ghostly pale in immaculate black robes, his grey eyes glinting as they raked over her naked form. Her petite frame felt unbearably exposed. Hermione instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, thighs pressing together in a futile shield.

Draco’s sneer curled sharper. “Hiding already, Granger? Pointless.” A lazy flick of his wand forced her arms to her sides, muscles locked as if bound by invisible chains. Her skin burned with humiliation, her freckles stark against the flush creeping up her neck.

He stepped closer, his cold hands claiming her without preamble. Fingers traced the taut plane of her stomach, then cupped a perky breast, squeezing until a gasp tore from her lips. “Such a pathetic little thing,” he murmured, thumb grazing her nipple, coaxing it to a traitorous peak. His other hand dipped lower, brushing her folds with deliberate slowness, smirking as her body twitched. “Wet already? You Mudbloods are all the same.”

Hermione’s jaw clenched; she had to put up with it. For Ginny. She swallowed her retort, forcing her voice to stay even. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

Draco’s laugh was sharp, cruel. “Oh, Granger, still that spark? It won’t last.” He pinched her nipple hard, drawing a wince, and leaned in, breath hot against her cheek. “Address me properly. Call me Master.”

Hermione’s fists tightened, nails biting palms, but she knew resistance would cost Ginny. “What do you want, Master?” she said, voice low, the word sour but unchallenged.

Draco’s smile was all teeth, triumphant. “Good girl.” He slapped her ass, the sting blooming red, and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You think you’re above this, don’t you? Smarter than us? You’re just a body now, Granger. Ours to play with.”

Hermione’s breath hitched, but she kept her eyes on his, defiance muted but not gone. “Just get on with it.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, amused by her restraint. “Eager to please already? Smart.” He groped her again, fingers digging into her hips, then sliding to cup her ass, squeezing hard. “This is all you’re good for, Mudblood. Keep that in mind.”

After an eternity of his hands roaming, pinching, prodding, claiming every inch. Draco stepped back, adjusting his robes with a theatrical flourish. “You’re here for a reason, Granger. Your grace period is over. As of today, you’re no different from the other whores in these halls.”

Hermione’s heart thudded, dread pooling, but she kept her face still. “What does that mean?”

Draco leaned closer, breath hot against her ear, words slow and deliberate. “It means any pureblood can take you. Spank you, slap you, spit in that clever mouth, fuck you raw, and you will not refuse. You’ll wear what we command, crawl when we order, spread your legs on a whim. Your body belongs to us now. We won't hold back. You've been granted the mercy of being spared, up until today.” His eyes glittered with sadistic glee as he watched her face.

Hermione’s teeth ground together, but she nodded faintly,  “I understand, master”

Draco’s fingers lingered on her skin, trailing back up to her breast, pinching the sensitive flesh with a deliberate cruelty that made Hermione flinch. “Look at you, trembling like a slut”, he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. He grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open with bruising pressure. “Wider, Granger.” Before she could react, he spat into her mouth, the warm saliva hitting her tongue as she gagged, humiliation burning hotter than the sting on her cheek. “Swallow it, you filthy little whore. It’s more than you deserve.”

Hermione’s throat tightened, her body screaming to recoil, but she forced herself to comply, swallowing with a shudder as her eyes stung with unshed tears. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Draco’s smirk widened as he stepped back, his hand dipping between her thighs again, fingers probing her cunt. “Merlin, you’re soaked,” he taunted, holding up his glistening fingers as if presenting evidence. “Don’t pretend you don’t love this, Granger. Your body’s begging for it, dripping like the needy slut you are.” His words were a blade, slicing at her resolve, but she bit her lip, silent, letting the shame wash over her without response.

Hermione’s silence only seemed to amuse him further. “Nothing to say? Good. Animals don’t talk back.” He stepped to his desk, retrieving a small silver collar, a leash attached to the front. He dangled it before her, mocking. “In which case, this will suit you perfectly.” With a flick of his wrist, he fastened the collar around her neck, the cold metal biting into her skin as he tugged the leash lightly, testing its hold. “There. Now you look the part.”

Hermione’s teeth ground together.  Just survive, she thought, her resolve a flickering ember against the storm of his cruelty.

Draco gave the leash a sharp yank, forcing her to stumble forward. “On your knees, slut. I have something to show you,” He smirked, eyes gleaming with sadistic anticipation as he gestured toward the door. “Crawl for me. We’re taking a little walk.”

Draco tugged the leash again, forcing Hermione to drop to her hands and knees, the cold stone of the corridor biting into her palms and shins. He strode ahead, his polished boots clicking against the floor as he led her through Hogwarts’ halls, the silver leash taut between them. Her naked body was exposed, small breasts swaying slightly with each movement, her bushy hair falling in tangled strands over her flushed face. The collar’s metal ring jingled faintly.

“Look at you, scuttling like a proper bitch, so much more obedient than when you first got here”, Draco sneered, glancing back with a cruel smirk. “No more upright defiance, eh, Granger? Just a filthy Mudblood on a leash, where you belong.” His voice carried through the empty corridor, echoing off the walls.

Hermione’s cheeks burned, but she kept crawling, her jaw clenched tight. For Ginny, she reminded herself, though the shame of each step gnawed at her. She focused on the rhythm of her movements, trying to block out his taunts, her knees scraping against the stone.

Draco yanked the leash sharply, making her lurch forward. “Come on, pet, give us a bark,” he mocked, stopping to loom over her. “Show me what a good little animal you are.” His grey eyes glittered with sadistic amusement, daring her to resist.

Hermione’s stomach churned, humiliation flooding her, but she swallowed hard, knowing defiance could mean punishment for others. “Woof,” she muttered, voice barely audible, her face burning as the sound escaped her lips.

Draco’s laugh was sharp and cold. “Pathetic. Louder, slut, or I’ll make you do it in the Great Hall next.” He tugged the leash again, forcing her to crawl faster.

Hermione forced out another “Woof,” louder this time, the sound a bitter betrayal of her pride. Her eyes stung, but she kept them fixed on the floor, refusing to let him see her crack. Just survive. Keep going.

As they moved through the twisting corridors, Hermione’s mind raced, mapping their path. A jolt of realisation hit her—they were heading toward the seventh floor, toward the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The Room of Requirement. Her heart leapt, a flicker of hope piercing the fog of dread. If she can get there… Her thoughts spun: overpower Draco, snatch his wand, slip into the Room before he could stop her. Freedom might be steps away. She kept her face neutral, hiding the spark of defiance, and crawled on, the leash pulling her toward her last chance.

Draco glanced back, oblivious to her scheming, his smirk unwavering. “Keep up, Granger. You’ll love what I’ve got planned,” he taunted, his voice dripping with menace as they neared the familiar stretch of wall.

Draco led Hermione by the leash until they stopped before the blank stone wall, the familiar stretch where the Room of Requirement once appeared. The corridor was silent, save for the faint jingle of her collar and the echo of his boots. Her knees ached from crawling, her naked body exposed, small breasts swaying, bushy hair tangled over her flushed shoulders, as she kept her eyes forward, hope flickering in her eyes.

Draco tugged the leash lightly, his smirk sharp as a blade. “Up, Granger. On your feet.” His voice was mockingly magnanimous, as if granting her a rare privilege. “Walk in front of the wall. Ask for anything you’d like from the Room. Go on, let’s see what your filthy little mind dreams up.”

Hermione rose slowly, legs trembling from the cold stone and the weight of his gaze. She stood nude, freckles stark against her skin, and squared her shoulders, clinging to the shred of dignity standing offered. She didn't get why Draco was offering her this, but she would take the opportunity; she would open the door, attack Draco, and get out of here. Following his order, she paced the wall three times, her bare feet slapping softly against the stone. In her mind, she repeated, I need a way to escape. I need a way to escape. I need a way to escape. Her heart pounded with desperate hope, each step a silent plea for freedom, but the wall remained stubbornly blank, no door, no hum of magic, nothing. She turned to Draco, confusion and despair flickering in her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Why…?”

Draco’s laugh was low, cruel, as he leaned against the wall, twirling the leash around his finger. “Oh, Granger, you thought it’d be that easy? Headmistress Lestrange wove her magic into this place, pureblood magic, far beyond your filthy kind. The Room only answers to us now.” His grey eyes glinted with sadistic glee, watching her hope crumble. “Go on, try again. I love watching you squirm.”

Hermione’s jaw tightened, but she paced again, her nude form moving under his unrelenting stare, his eyes lingering on the curve of her hips, the flush of her skin. She repeated the mantra in her mind, I need a way to escape. I need a way to escape. I need a way to escape. But still, no door formed. Her chest ached with the weight of failure, and she swallowed the urge to cry, forcing her face to stay blank. Not yet. Don’t break.

Draco stepped closer, yanking the leash to force her back to her knees with a jolt. “Crawl, slut,” he ordered, voice dripping with disdain. “You’re not done learning your place.” He began leading her in a slow circle before the wall, the leash taut as her palms and knees scraped the stone. “You’re not the first to think of this pathetic little escape plan,” he sneered. “Your blood-traitor friend Weasley tried it too, back when she still had some fire. Begged and sobbed for the Room to open. It didn’t. Just like it won’t for you.”

Hermione’s heart sank, the image of Ginny’s broken spirit slicing through her. She wanted to cry, to scream, but she bit her lip until it bled, forcing strength into her trembling limbs. There’s still a way, her mind whispered. A desperate idea sparked to seduce a pureblood. Someone, anyone, with a flicker of sympathy, someone she could manipulate to access the Room. 

The thought horrified her, a sickening twist in her gut at the idea of playing their game, of offering her body willingly. But it was a plan, a lifeline. She’d have to find a pureblood less cruel than Draco, someone with a crack in their arrogance, maybe a younger Slytherin, someone not yet fully hardened by this regime. She’d need to be eager, obedient, the perfect slut they wanted, all while hiding her true intent. Convince them to open the Room, slip inside, and use it to escape. It was a long shot, better than anything else she had. Not Draco, though, she thought, shuddering at his sadistic leer. He’d see through her in a heartbeat, twist it into another torment.

Draco stepped back from her, oblivious to her racing thoughts, and began pacing the wall himself, his boots clicking with purpose. He moved back and forth three times, his smirk growing as the blank stone shimmered and a heavy iron door materialised, its surface etched with serpentine runes. “There we are,” he drawled, pushing it open with a flourish. Inside, a sex dungeon unfolded. Emerald velvet walls draped with silver chains, flickering torches casting shadows over racks of whips and vials of glowing potions. At the centre stood a massive four-poster bed, its dark wood frame equipped with enchanted chains. A mirrored ceiling loomed above, reflecting the scene in cruel clarity.

Hermione shivered. The sight of the bed, those chains, sent a wave of dread through her, but her mind clung to the seduction plan. If she's going to do this, she needs to know how to play the part. Practising with Draco disgusted her; his touch, his voice, everything about him made her skin crawl, but he was here, now, and she needed to test her resolve, to learn how to fake it. She forced a deep breath, steeling herself, her resolve a fragile thread against the horror of what lay ahead.

Draco tugged the leash, pulling her toward the bed, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Crawl, slut. Let’s see how well you can handle this." His voice was thick with sadistic delight, unaware of the desperate scheme forming in her mind.

Draco’s boots clicked as he led her to the centre of the room, where the massive four-poster bed loomed. He yanked the leash, halting her at the bed’s edge. “Up, slut,” he ordered, voice thick with sadistic glee. “Time to make you comfortable.”

Hermione’s stomach churned, but she obeyed, climbing onto the bed, the silk sheets cold against her skin. She knelt, her bushy hair falling over her flushed shoulders, every nerve screaming to bolt. Draco’s smirk widened as he flicked his wand, and the chains sprang to life, snapping around her wrists and ankles with a metallic clink. They pulled taut, spreading her arms and legs wide, binding her in a vulnerable X across the bed. The mirrored ceiling forced her to see herself—nude, collared, exposed, her freckled skin stark against the dark silk, her shaven pussy glistening despite her revulsion. The chains tightened slightly, holding her firm, a reminder of her powerlessness.

Draco loomed over her, twirling the leash’s end, his grey eyes raking her bound form. “Look at you, Granger, all trussed up like the whore you are,” he taunted, his voice low and dangerous. “Ready to learn what it means to serve.” He stepped closer, his fingers brushing the edge of the bed, but he paused, savouring the moment, his gaze heavy with intent.

Hermione’s breath hitched, her mind clinging to her plan, practice, endure, find a way, as she braced herself for what was to come, her body trembling under the weight of his stare and the chains’ unyielding grip.

A/N: Sorry, it's been a while since an update. I've been focusing on my other fics more, since they are more popular than this one. I'm not abandoning this, though, it just won't be getting as frequent updates as my others. 

Let me know if you enjoyed!

Chapter Text

The chains bit into Hermione's wrists and ankles, spreading her eagle across the black silk sheets. Cold metal against bare skin. She stared up at her reflection in the mirrored ceiling. Small breasts rising and falling with shallow breaths, flat stomach taut with tension, shaven pussy exposed and vulnerable between splayed thighs. Her bushy hair tangled across the pillow like a dark halo. Freckles dusted her pale shoulders. The leather collar sat heavy around her throat.

This is practice, she told herself, forcing her breathing to steady. Just practice.

The sex dungeon stretched around her. Walls lined with implements she didn't want to think about, torchlight casting shadows that danced across leather and metal. The mirrored ceiling was the cruellest touch. She couldn't look away from her own helplessness.

Practice. Endure. Learn to fake it. Find a weakness.

The mantra repeated in her mind like a lifeline. She needed to learn how to convincingly play the submissive, broken mudblood. Not for Draco. He was too perceptive, too cruel. But for someone younger. Someone arrogant enough to believe a pretty lie. Someone who could open the Room of Requirement for her.

Her only way out.

Footsteps echoed across the stone. Hermione's heart slammed against her ribs as Draco circled the bed slowly, a predator examining prey. His sleek blonde hair caught the torchlight. Grey eyes drank in every inch of her vulnerability with that familiar, mocking satisfaction.

"Comfortable, Granger?" His voice dripped with false concern.

She swallowed hard, testing how much the collar restricted her movement. Not much. Just enough to remind her it was there. "Yes, Master," she forced out.

Lie. Make him believe it. Practice.

Draco's smirk widened. He trailed one finger down her sternum, slowly, deliberately, between her breasts, over her stomach. She flinched involuntarily when he stopped just above her mound.

"Nervous?" He cocked his head, studying her reaction.

Her jaw clenched. She forced herself to meet his eyes, to bury the hatred burning in her chest. This was a role. An act. Information gathering for the real plan. "Yes, Master."

At least that was honest.

"Good." His hand cupped her breast roughly, squeezing until she gasped. His thumb circled her nipple, coaxing it to betray her. "You should be terrified. Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you tonight?"

Hermione's throat went dry. Images flashed through her mind. Ginny's vacant eyes, Lavender's eager desperation, Parvati and Padma reduced to begging for toys. Her body trembled against the chains.

But she had a plan. She just had to survive long enough to execute it.

"Whatever you want, Master," she whispered, each word scraping her throat raw.

Draco leaned down, breath hot against her ear. "That's right. Whatever I want." His hand drifted lower, fingers brushing her folds. "And what I want is to hear you admit exactly what you are."

His fingers traced lazy circles on her inner thigh, maddeningly close but never quite touching, where her body tensed in anticipation. Draco's grey eyes studied her face with clinical detachment, watching every micro-expression.

His voice was soft, dangerous. "What are you?"

Hermione swallowed. The collar pressed against her throat as she tried to speak. "Yours, Master."

"No."

The word came out flat, final. His hand left her thigh. Before she could process the movement, he delivered a sharp slap to her breast. The crack echoed through the dungeon. Pain bloomed across her chest, hot and stinging. She yelped, eyes watering.

"Try again." Draco's tone didn't change. He might have been asking about the weather. "What are mudbloods like you good for?"

The words stuck in her throat like broken glass. Every instinct screamed at her to spit in his face, to tell him exactly what she thought of him and his pureblood supremacy. But that wouldn't help. That wouldn't get her to the Room of Requirement.

Practice. This is practice.

She forced her jaw to unclench. "For... for serving..."

Another slap, harder this time, to her other breast. She cried out, chains rattling as her body jerked involuntarily. The sting spread across her skin like wildfire.

"Louder. And stop being coy. Say what you really mean."

Hermione's breath came in shallow gasps. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She stared up at her reflection in the mirrored ceiling. The girl looking back at her was a stranger. Chained. Collared. Marked as property.

This is what they need to see. Give it to them.

"For serving purebloods, Master," she choked out, louder this time. Each word tasted like ash. "For being used."

Draco's smirk returned. "Better. Keep going."

His hand returned to her breast, this time squeezing roughly where he'd just struck. The pressure made her gasp. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, pinching until it hardened despite her revulsion.

"Used for what, exactly?"

Hermione closed her eyes. She couldn't watch herself say this. "For... for pleasure, Master. Pureblood pleasure."

"Whose pleasure?"

"Yours, Master."

"And?"

"Any pureblood who wants me, Master."

The admission felt like drowning. Like something vital was being carved out of her with each word. But Draco's expression shifted to genuine satisfaction. He actually believed it. He thought this was her breaking, not her performing.

Good. Let him believe it.

"There we go. Was that so difficult?" His hand drifted down her stomach, fingers ghosting over her mound. "Your body already knows this, Granger. See how it responds?" He brushed his fingers through her folds, barely touching, but enough to make her flinch. "You're already getting wet."

She wasn't. Not really. Just the normal biological response to touch, to stimulation her body couldn't control. But she couldn't say that.

"Say it again," he commanded, his fingers circling her clit with feather-light pressure. "Tell me what you are. What mudblood cunts like you exist for."

Hermione bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. The words came easier this time, smoother, more convincing. A lie she was learning to sell. "I'm a mudblood whore, Master. I exist to serve purebloods. To be used however they want."

Draco's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Good girl. You're learning faster than I expected." His fingers pressed harder against her clit, drawing an involuntary gasp from her lips. "Maybe there's hope for you after all."

He removed his hand completely, stepping back from the bed. Hermione's body sagged against the chains, relief and dread warring in her chest.

"Don't worry," Draco said, his voice dripping with dark promise. "We're just getting started."

Draco's wand flicked lazily through the air, and something soft materialised in his hand. Dark silk, she realised, as he leaned over her. A blindfold.

"I want to hear every pathetic sound you make, mudblood." He secured the fabric over her eyes, plunging her world into absolute darkness. "Every gasp. Every whimper. Every moan."

Hermione's breath quickened. Without sight, every other sense sharpened to an almost painful degree. The cold air against her exposed skin. The rough texture of the chains biting into her wrists and ankles. The sound of Draco's footsteps moving away from the bed, his shoes clicking against stone.

She strained to hear what he was doing. Drawers opening. Objects are being selected. The soft clink of glass.

Don't panic. This is information. Learn what they do. How they operate.

But her heart hammered against her ribs anyway, and she knew he could see it in the mirror above. Could see her chest rising and falling too fast, her fingers curling into fists, her legs trembling slightly in their spread position.

"Relax, Granger." Draco's voice came from somewhere to her left now. "Or don't. Either way works for me."

Cold.

Suddenly, a shocking cold on her right nipple. She gasped, body jerking in the chains. Ice. He was using ice. The frozen touch circled her nipple slowly, deliberately, making it harden into a painful peak. Then he dragged it down, down between her breasts, over her ribs, across her flat stomach.

Her muscles tensed as the ice travelled lower. She knew where it was going. Dreaded it. Couldn't stop it.

The ice pressed against her clit, and she cried out, trying instinctively to close her legs. The chains held her open, spread, vulnerable. He circled that sensitive bundle of nerves with the ice, so cold it almost burned, making her hips jerk and twist.

"What do you say?" Draco's voice held amusement.

It took her a moment to find words through the sensation. "Thank you, Master."

Just performing. Just acting. This is practice.

"Good girl."

The ice vanished. For a few seconds, nothing. She waited in darkness, muscles tense, not knowing what would come next. The anticipation was its own torture. Then heat.

Warmth spread across her left nipple. Not painful, but the contrast after the ice made her gasp. His wand tip, heated with magic, traced the same path the ice had taken. Down between her breasts, across her stomach, lower and lower until she felt it hovering just above her clit.

Her body didn't know how to respond. Flinch away or lean into the warmth after the biting cold?

"You're shaking," Draco observed, sounding pleased. "Good."

The warm wand tip pressed against her clit for just a moment. Heat spread through her. Pleasure sparked despite everything. Despite the situation, despite him, despite the collar around her throat. Her hips lifted involuntarily, seeking more contact.

He pulled away immediately.

"Eager already?" A soft laugh. "We've barely started."

The alternating sensations continued, more intense this time. Ice dragged along her inner thighs, making her legs twitch and strain against the chains. He traced it up one side, so close to where her body had begun to betray her with wetness, then down the other. Never quite touching where the ache was building.

Then, heat trailed up her sides, making her skin flush. The warm wand tip circled each nipple in turn until they stood hard and sensitive. Every touch amplified in the darkness. She couldn't anticipate. Couldn't prepare.

"Your body's starting to understand," Draco murmured. "Look at how it responds."

She felt his fingers then, cold from holding the ice, sliding through her folds. Checking. Confirming what they both knew. She was getting wet.

It's just biology, she told herself desperately. Just a response to stimulation. Nothing more.

"Already dripping," he said, pulling his fingers away. She heard him moving, could picture him holding up his glistening fingers to examine them in the torchlight. "The mirror doesn't lie, Granger. Even if you try to."

His fingers returned to her clit, circling slowly. Building pressure. The contrast of his cold touch against her heated skin sent shocks through her system. She bit her lip, trying to stay silent, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her react.

"I said I want to hear every sound." His other hand pinched her nipple, hard. She gasped. "That's better."

He worked her clit with methodical patience. Slow circles that gradually built sensation. Not enough to push her toward anything. Just enough to make her body wake up. To make nerve endings that she desperately wanted to stay dormant begin to sing with unwanted awareness.

Then he pressed the ice directly against her clit.

The shock of cold after the building warmth made her cry out. Her back arched off the bed as much as the chains allowed. It was too much, too intense, bordering on painful.

"Too much?" Draco asked, not moving the ice. "Should I stop?"

"Yes! Please, Master, it's too..."

He pressed harder.

Tears leaked from beneath the blindfold. Her thighs trembled with the effort of trying to pull away from the sensation. But there was nowhere to go. The chains held her perfectly in place, perfectly open to whatever he wanted to do to her.

Just when she thought she couldn't take another second, he removed the ice. His warm fingers replaced it immediately, rubbing gentle circles that soothed and stimulated at the same time. The relief was so intense she moaned without meaning to.

"There we go," he said softly. "Your body's learning. Pain, then pleasure. Cold, then heat. All you have to do is accept it."

The warmth of his touch after the ice felt impossibly good. Wrong, but good. Her hips moved slightly, following the motion of his fingers, before she caught herself and tried to stay still.

"Don't fight it," Draco commanded. "Move. Show me how your body responds."

This is the performance. This is what I need to do.

Hermione let her hips roll slightly, matching the rhythm of his fingers. Let small sounds escape her throat. Gasps and whimpers that he would interpret as surrender.

Except his fingers felt too good against her clit. The pleasure building in her core felt too real. Her body was responding more thoroughly than any acting required.

"That's it," Draco encouraged. "Finally learning your place."

He increased the pressure, the speed. Pleasure coiled tighter in her belly. Her breathing came faster. The chains rattled as her body tensed, approaching something, getting closer, closer...

Right when she felt herself getting close, everything stopped.

His fingers left her body entirely. The absence was almost painful.

"No," she whimpered before she could stop herself. The word came out broken, needy.

That was real. That wasn't acting.

"Did you want to cum, mudblood?"

Hermione bit her lip hard, trying to regain control. But her body ached with denial. Throbbed with need it had built against her will.

"Yes, Master," she forced out. "Please, Master."

Still performing. Still in control. Just saying what he wants to hear.

"Not yet. You haven't earned it."

The torture began again. Ice on her nipples, making them ache. Then his warm mouth, sucking one into heat while his fingers returned to her clit. The combination of sensations made her moan, long and low, a sound she couldn't suppress.

He built her up slowly. Methodically. His fingers worked her clit in patterns that made her hips buck. Circling, pressing, rubbing. Sometimes fast, sometimes agonizingly slow. Sometimes alternating with the ice or heat from his wand.

Tension coiled tighter and tighter in her core. Her thighs trembled. Her hands clenched into fists above her head, chains biting into her wrists. She was getting close again. So close. Her whole body tensed, reaching for release.

He stopped.

A sob of pure frustration escaped her throat. Her hips bucked uselessly, seeking friction that wasn't there. Her pussy clenched around nothing, desperate and empty.

This time, the frustration felt different. Sharper. More real.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, I need..."

"You need what?"

"To cum, Master. Please let me cum."

The words came easier now. Less calculated. More genuine.

"Beg properly."

"Please, Master, I'm begging you. Please let me cum. Please, I need it, I need..."

His fingers returned, rubbing her clit hard and fast. Pleasure spiked through her. Yes, yes, finally...

He stopped again.

Hermione screamed in frustration. The sound echoed through the dungeon, raw and desperate. Tears streamed from beneath the blindfold. Her body shook with denied need.

When did she stop pretending?

The thought flashed through her mind like ice water. She'd been telling herself this was a performance. That she was acting. Learning. Gathering information for her escape plan.

But right now, in this moment, she genuinely, desperately wanted him to let her cum. Needed it with an intensity that had nothing to do with playing a role.

"Beautiful," Draco murmured. "You're finally learning to beg properly."

He did it again. Building her up with ice and heat and his merciless fingers, bringing her right to the edge before ripping it away.

Each time, the denial grew worse. Each time her body grew more desperate, wound tighter, aching harder. Each time, the line between acting and reality blurred further.

She stopped trying to analyse her reactions. Stopped trying to control them. The moans and whimpers spilt freely from her lips. Her hips moved without her permission, grinding against his touch, seeking more, always more.

"Look at you," Draco said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "The great Hermione Granger, legs spread, cunt dripping, begging like a common whore."

The humiliation should have cooled her arousal. Should have reminded her this was wrong, this was the enemy, this was everything she was supposed to resist.

But it didn't. In the darkness, blind and helpless and desperate, the shame only seemed to make the ache worse. Make her need sharper. More consuming.

"That's it," Draco continued, his fingers working her clit in fast circles. "This is what you needed all along, isn't it? To be put in your place."

No. That's not... I'm just...

But she couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't hold onto the narrative that this was all an act. Because when his fingers brought her to the edge again and stopped, leaving her sobbing and shaking, the desperation was real.

She'd lost track of how many times he'd done this. Five? Seven? Ten? Time had become meaningless in the darkness, measured only in cycles of building pleasure and crushing denial.

Her body was a livewire of need. Every nerve ending screamed. The frustrated pressure in her core felt like it might tear her apart.

"Please," she begged, and there was no performance left in her voice. Just raw, honest desperation. "Please, Master, please, I can't... I need... please just let me..."

She'd come here planning to learn. To endure. To fake submission convincingly enough to manipulate someone later.

But somewhere in the darkness, between the ice and the heat and the relentless edging, Hermione had stopped faking.

She genuinely, desperately, needed to cum. And only Draco could give her that.

The realisation terrified her almost as much as it aroused her.

Hermione felt Draco's fingers at the back of her head, working at the knot of the blindfold. The silk loosened, slipping slightly. She squeezed her eyes shut instinctively, knowing the torchlight would be harsh after so long in darkness.

"Open your eyes," Draco commanded softly. "I want you to see what I've done to you."

The blindfold fell away completely. Light invaded her vision even through her closed eyelids, orange and flickering. She blinked slowly, cautiously, letting her eyes adjust. Colours and shapes gradually came into focus. The stone walls of the dungeon. The torches cast dancing shadows. The implements hanging on the walls that she tried not to look at too closely.

And above her, the mirrored ceiling.

The girl staring back at her looked wrecked.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. That couldn't be her. That desperate, broken thing in the mirror couldn't possibly be her.

But it was.

Her bushy hair was a complete disaster, matted and tangled with sweat, sticking to her flushed face and neck. Her skin was feverish red, blotchy across her chest and cheeks. Tear tracks cut through the sheen of sweat on her face, old ones dried and new ones still glistening. Her brown eyes looked glazed, pupils blown wide with arousal and desperation.

Her lips were swollen and parted, breathing hard, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the edging. Her small breasts heaved with each ragged breath, nipples standing hard and reddened from all the attention, ice and heat and pinching. Faint marks showed where Draco had been rougher, pink impressions of fingers and the redder marks from the slaps earlier.

Her flat stomach rose and fell rapidly, muscles tensing and relaxing with residual tremors. And between her spread thighs, held wide by the chains, the evidence of her arousal was undeniable. Her inner thighs glistened with wetness that had been building for what felt like hours. Her pussy was flushed, swollen, visibly throbbing with denied need.

Her whole body trembled. She looked desperate. Broken. Needy. Defeated.

She looked exactly like what Draco wanted her to be.

"There," Draco said, his voice thick with satisfaction. He stood beside the bed, grey eyes taking in her reflection with obvious pleasure. "Look at yourself properly. See what you've become."

Hermione couldn't look away from the mirror. Couldn't deny what she was seeing. This wasn't pretending anymore. This wasn't acting. The desperation in that reflection was real. Visceral. Undeniable.

The realisation sent a fresh wave of shame through her, hot and choking. But underneath it, that maddening arousal still pulsed. Her pussy throbbed with every denied orgasm still echoing through her system. Her clit ached so badly it almost hurt.

Seeing her own desperate state in the mirror somehow made it worse. Made it more real. She could see the truth of what he'd done to her written across every inch of her body.

"Beautiful," Draco murmured, drinking in both her and her reflection. "Absolutely beautiful."

The chains on her right wrist released with a soft click. Before Hermione could process the relief of blood flowing back into her arm, before she could even think about moving, Draco was pulling her up by the collar. The leather bit into her throat as he repositioned her body.

"On your knees. Edge of the bed."

Her legs were still chained spread at the ankles, forcing her into an awkward kneeling position at the mattress edge. She could still see herself in the mirror from this angle, though the perspective had shifted. Now she could see her face more clearly, could see the desperation in her own eyes as she looked up at Draco.

She felt his hand in her bushy hair, gripping tight. Pulling her head forward, making her look up at him while he positioned himself before her.

"Open your mouth."

Hermione looked up at him. Draco stood before her, cock hard and ready, already glistening slightly at the tip. His grey eyes gleamed with triumph. With ownership. With the absolute certainty that he'd won.

She hesitated for just a second. This was different. More active. She'd have to participate, not just endure.

His grip tightened painfully in her hair, making her scalp burn. "I said open."

She parted her lips. The head of his cock pressed against her mouth immediately. Warm, hard, already leaking. He pushed forward slowly, sliding over her tongue, filling her mouth inch by inch.

"That's it. Take it. And keep your eyes up. Watch yourself in the mirror."

She tried to relax her jaw to accommodate him, but he was thick and pushed deeper than was comfortable. The taste of him flooded her senses. Salt and skin and something distinctly male that made her stomach turn even as her body continued to ache with need.

He held her head still and thrust deeper. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat, and she gagged, body convulsing. Spit flooded her mouth.

In the mirror, she watched herself choke on his cock. Watched her eyes water. Watched the degradation happening to her own body in real time.

"Breathe through your nose," Draco instructed, voice tight with pleasure. "You'll get used to it."

He pulled back slightly, letting her catch her breath, then pushed in again. Establishing a rhythm. Fucking her face with measured strokes that made her gag every few thrusts.

Saliva dripped down her chin. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes, not from crying but from the physical response to having her throat invaded. Her free hand gripped the edge of the mattress for balance, the other still chained above her head.

"Look at you," Draco said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "The brightest witch of her age, choking on my cock. The mirror doesn't lie, Granger. You can see exactly what you are now."

The humiliation burned through her. Watching herself like this was worse than the darkness had been. In the darkness, she could pretend. Could maintain some illusion of control, of performance.

But the mirror showed her every degrading detail. The spit was dripping from her chin. The way her throat bulged slightly when he pushed deep. The tears were streaming down her face. The desperation in her own eyes. The need was still written across every line of her body.

But beneath it all, that arousal still pulsed. Her pussy throbbed with every denied orgasm still echoing through her system. The frustration was maddening.

Then she felt it. A familiar warmth, hovering just above her clit.

His wand. Still heated from before.

"Don't stop," Draco ordered, his cock still buried in her throat. "Keep taking it while I remind your cunt what it needs."

The warm wand tip pressed against her clit, and Hermione moaned around his cock. The vibration must have felt good because his grip in her hair tightened, and he thrust harder.

The dual sensations were overwhelming. His cock filled her mouth, making her gag and choke, while magical heat stimulated her clit with perfect, maddening pressure. Her body didn't know where to focus. Throat protesting the invasion, pussy desperately seeking release.

She watched it all in the mirror. Watched her hips rock forward involuntarily. Watched her body betray her again and again.

The heat on her clit intensified. Circling, pressing, building that familiar tension in her core. She moaned again, helpless to stop the sound. Her hips rocked forward, seeking more contact with the wand.

"That's it," Draco groaned. "Getting desperate, aren't you? Your cunt's so needy you'll take whatever I give you."

Yes. God, yes.

The thought came unbidden, and she hated herself for it. But watching herself in the mirror, seeing the truth of her desperation reflected back, she couldn't deny it anymore.

He fucked her face harder. His cock hit the back of her throat repeatedly, making her gag and splutter. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her breasts. She couldn't breathe properly, could only snatch gasps of air between thrusts.

But the wand on her clit kept building pleasure. Kept pushing her toward that edge she'd been denied so many times. Tension coiled in her belly, tighter and tighter. Her thighs trembled. Her pussy clenched.

In the mirror, she could see it happening. Could see her body tensing, preparing for release.

She was getting close. So close. Just a little more and she'd finally...

The wand pulled away.

Hermione's moan of frustration was muffled by the cock in her mouth. Her hips bucked forward, seeking the heat that was no longer there. She watched herself in the mirror, saw the despair in her own eyes.

Draco laughed breathlessly. "Did you really think I'd let you cum while sucking my cock? You haven't earned that yet."

He kept fucking her face. Kept using her throat while her body screamed with denied need. The mirror forced her to watch every moment. Every degrading thrust. Every desperate twitch of her hips seeking stimulation that wasn't there.

Then the wand returned. This time, accompanied by something else. Phantom touches, magical stimulation that felt like fingers sliding through her folds, teasing her entrance, almost pushing inside but never quite penetrating.

"Mmmph!" The sound was muffled by his cock, but desperate nonetheless.

"You want something inside you, don't you?" Draco's voice was rough now, his thrusts becoming less controlled. "Want your needy cunt filled while you service me?"

She couldn't answer with her mouth full. Could only make muffled sounds of agreement, of desperation, of need so intense it overrode every other thought.

In the mirror, she could see it all. Could see how thoroughly she'd been reduced to this desperate, needy thing.

The phantom sensation pushed just slightly inside her. Not deep. Just enough to make her aware of how empty she felt. How much she wanted more.

The wand on her clit increased pressure. The magical fingers inside her moved in shallow thrusts. His cock fucked her throat harder. All three sensations combined, building toward something overwhelming.

Her whole body tensed. This was it. Finally. She was going to...

Everything stopped.

Wand gone. Phantom fingers gone. Only his cock remained, buried in her throat as he held her head still.

Her muffled scream of frustration vibrated around him. She watched herself in the mirror, saw her hips bucking uselessly, seeking any friction.

"Not yet," Draco said again, pulling out of her mouth completely.

Hermione gasped for air, coughing, spit stringing from her lips to his cock. "Please," she begged hoarsely, staring up at him with desperate eyes. "Please, I can't... I need..."

"I know what you need." His hand stroked her hair almost gently. "Your body's finally being honest. No more pretending you don't want this."

She wanted to protest. Wanted to say she was still acting, still in control. But one glance at the mirror showed her the truth. The desperate, needy girl staring back wasn't acting.

She did want it. Desperately. Her pussy throbbed with need so intense it bordered on painful. Every denied orgasm had built on the last until wanting release was all she could think about.

"Back in your mouth," Draco commanded. "And this time, show some enthusiasm. Moan for me. Let me hear how desperate you are."

She opened her mouth immediately. No hesitation this time. Took him back in and sucked, actually sucked, using her tongue the way she'd refused to before.

Because maybe if she pleased him, he'd finally let her cum.

She watched herself in the mirror. Watched herself service him eagerly. Watched the girl she'd become. The realisation of what she was doing, why she was doing it, should have horrified her. Should have made her stop. But the wand returned to her clit, and all thoughts of resistance vanished under the wave of need.

She moaned around his cock, loud and genuine. Worked her tongue against the underside while he thrust. Let him use her throat while grinding her hips desperately into the empty air, seeking friction that wasn't there.

"Good girl," Draco groaned. "Finally learning to serve properly. Watch yourself. See what you've become."

She did. She watched every degrading moment in the mirror. He edged her twice more like this. Building her up with magical stimulation while she serviced him, then denying her right before she could tip over into release. Each time, her muffled screams of frustration seemed to please him more.

Her jaw ached. Her throat was raw. Spit covered her chin and breasts. But none of that mattered compared to the aching, throbbing, desperate need between her legs.

"Almost there," Draco said, his breathing ragged. "Going to cum down your throat, and you're going to swallow every drop. Understand?"

She nodded as best she could with her mouth full, watching herself submit in the mirror.

His thrusts became erratic. The wand on her clit increased pressure, rubbing hard and fast. Building her up one more time. She moaned desperately, hoping, praying this time he'd let her finish too.

Draco groaned and thrust deep, cock pulsing as he came. Hot, bitter fluid flooded her mouth. She choked, tried to swallow, struggled not to gag as he kept cumming. Watched herself in the mirror, taking it all.

The wand on her clit rubbed frantically. She was right there, right on the edge, just needed one more second...

He pulled out of her mouth, and the wand disappeared simultaneously.

"No!" The word came out as a raw scream. "Please, please, I was so close, please..."

Draco's hand tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I know you were," he said, satisfaction dripping from every word. "I could feel it. Your whole body is shaking, right on the edge. Beautiful."

Hermione sobbed. Actual tears now, streaming down her already tear-stained face. Her body hurt with need. Her pussy clenched rhythmically, desperately seeking release that wouldn't come.

"Please," she whispered brokenly. "Please, Master, I'll do anything. Anything."

"I know you will," Draco said. "You're finally ready to learn that lesson properly."

She felt him releasing the chains on her ankles, then repositioning her back on the bed. Spreading her eagle again. Securing the chains.

She stared up at herself in the mirror. At the wrecked, desperate girl chained to the bed. At what she'd become.

"Now comes the real fun," Draco said, positioning himself between her spread thighs. "Now I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name. And maybe, if you beg prettily enough, I'll let you cum."

Maybe.

The word echoed in her desperate mind.

She'd beg. She'd do anything. She just needed to cum. Nothing else mattered anymore.

A/N: Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! I think this is the best one yet; it's definitely the one I feel the most proud of.  There will be a part 2 uploaded eventually, but I wanted to cut it in two so I wasn't uploading a chapter that was 10k+ words. 

Chapter Text

The chains released with soft clicks, all four at once. Hermione's arms and legs dropped to the bed, muscles screaming from being held in position for so long. Relief flooded through her for just a moment before Draco's hands were on her, flipping her onto her stomach.

"On your knees. Ass up."

Her body obeyed before her mind could process the command. She pushed herself up on trembling arms, lifting her hips, presenting herself. The position felt more degrading somehow than being chained spread-eagled. At least then she'd been forced. This felt like cooperation.

But she was so desperate. So wound tight with denied need that she'd do anything he asked if it meant even the possibility of release.

Draco's hands gripped her hips, positioning her exactly how he wanted. She felt the head of his cock pressing against her entrance, sliding through the wetness that had been building for what felt like hours.

"Look how soaked you are," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Your cunt's practically begging for it."

He wasn't wrong. She was dripping, arousal coating her inner thighs, making obscene wet sounds as he dragged his cock through her folds. Her pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, Master."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me. Please, I need..."

He slammed into her in one brutal thrust.

Hermione cried out, her arms nearly buckling. He was thick, stretching her, filling her completely. It wasn't gentle, but she was wet enough that it didn't hurt. It just felt overwhelming. Intense. Everything her body had been craving.

Draco didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled back and thrust in again, setting a punishing rhythm immediately. His hips slapped against her ass with each stroke. One hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise. The other reached around to find her clit.

The combination made her moan, long and desperate. Finally, finally, she was getting the stimulation her body screamed for. His cock filled her with each thrust while his fingers worked her clit in practised circles.

"That's it," Draco groaned. "Feel how your body responds? How does it take my cock? This is what you needed all along."

Pleasure built rapidly. Too rapidly. Her body was so primed, so desperate from all the edging that it didn't take much. Tension coiled tight in her core. Her thighs trembled. Her pussy clenched around his cock with each thrust.

She was getting close. Actually, close this time. He wasn't stopping. His fingers kept rubbing her clit, his cock kept pounding into her, and that glorious peak was right there, right within reach...

"You want to cum, don't you?" Draco's voice was rough with his own pleasure. "I can feel your cunt getting tighter. You're right on the edge."

"Yes!" The word burst from her throat. "Yes, please, Master, please let me..."

His fingers on her clit moved faster. His thrusts became harder, deeper. She was right there, teetering on the precipice, just needed one more second...

Draco's wand pressed against her lower back.

She barely registered it through the haze of desperate need. Barely heard him murmur the incantation, Latin words she didn't recognise. But she felt the magic sink into her skin, burning hot for just a moment before spreading through her entire body.

It felt like liquid fire in her veins. Not painful, but intense. Overwhelming. Her whole body tensed as the spell worked its way through her, settling into something deep and fundamental.

"There," Draco said, satisfaction dripping from the word. His fingers never stopped working her clit. His cock never stopped fucking her. "A little insurance policy."

"What..." Hermione tried to form the question through the fog of arousal and the strange sensation of magic coursing through her. "What did you..."

"For your next orgasm, you need permission to cum." His voice was right by her ear now, having leaned over her back. "Explicit permission from a pureblood. Your body will respond to everything. You'll get right to the edge, just like you are now. But you won't be able to tip over into orgasm unless one of us grants it. And the spell won't wear off until you orgasm."

The words took a moment to penetrate. When they did, ice flooded through her despite the heat of arousal.

"No," she whispered. "No, you can't..."

"I just did." He punctuated the words with a particularly hard thrust that made her gasp. "And I'm not planning to give you permission anytime soon. Not until you truly break for me. Not until there's nothing left of that stubborn pride."

Horror crashed over her. Even if she escaped. Even if she found a way out of this castle, away from the purebloods and their regime, she'd be trapped in this desperate state. Unable to find release on her own. Unable to let anyone else give it to her unless they had pure blood.

Her seduction plan had just become infinitely more complicated. She'd need to not just manipulate a younger pureblood into taking her to the Room of Requirement. She'd need them to actually grant her release. To say the words. To give her permission.

And Draco would never. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. He wanted complete surrender. Total breaking. Nothing less would satisfy him.

"Please," she begged, panic mixing with desperation. "Please, don't do this, I'll..."

"You'll what?" His fingers rubbed her clit mercilessly. Building that tension higher and higher. "You'll obey? You'll submit? You already are, Granger. Your body's already mine. Now your pleasure is too."

He was right. She could feel it building, that familiar tension winding tighter and tighter in her core. Her pussy clenched around his cock. Her thighs shook. Every nerve ending sang with the promise of release.

But something was different. Something fundamental had changed with the spell.

She could feel the edge approaching. Could feel her body preparing for orgasm. But there was a barrier now. Invisible but absolute. Like a wall she couldn't quite breach, no matter how much stimulation she received.

"Feel it?" Draco asked, his voice dark with satisfaction. "Feel how close you are? How your body wants it so badly but can't quite reach it?"

Hermione sobbed. The pleasure kept building, but had nowhere to go. No peak to crest. Just an endless, maddening climb toward something she'd never be allowed to reach.

"Beg," Draco commanded. "Beg me to let you cum."

"Please!" The word tore from her throat. "Please, Master, please let me cum, I need it, I need it so badly, please..."

"Why should I?"

"I'll do anything! Anything you want, I'll obey, I'll submit, please just let me..."

His fingers moved faster on her clit. His cock slammed into her harder. Driving her closer and closer to that invisible barrier. Making her feel how desperately her body needed release, it couldn't have.

"This is what you are now," Draco said, his breathing growing ragged. "A desperate little mudblood who needs pureblood permission to cum. Who'll do anything, say anything, debase herself however I demand, just for the chance at release."

He was getting close himself. She could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered slightly. In the way his grip on her hip tightened.

"Tell me you belong to me," he demanded. "Tell me you're my property. Convince me you mean it."

"I'm yours!" Hermione cried, past pride, past shame, past anything except the desperate need consuming her. "I belong to you, Master! I'm your property! Please, please let me cum!"

She meant it in that moment. Or at least her body did. Every cell screamed for release, only he could grant.

Draco groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Not yet. Not until you truly break. But you will, Granger. Soon."

He buried himself deep inside her with a final thrust and came, cock pulsing as he filled her. But his fingers on her clit didn't stop. If anything, they moved faster, pushing her against that barrier she couldn't cross.

Her body climbed higher. The pleasure was agonising now. Overwhelming. Right there but unable to crest. She sobbed into the sheets, hips bucking desperately, trying to force her body over an edge the spell wouldn't let her reach.

"Beautiful," Draco murmured, finally pulling his hand away. "Absolutely beautiful."

He pulled out of her slowly. Hermione collapsed onto the bed immediately, trembling violently. Her pussy clenched rhythmically, seeking completion it couldn't have. Every nerve ending still sang with frustrated need.

The ache was worse than before. Because now she knew. Knew that no amount of stimulation would help. Knew she was truly, completely at their mercy.

Draco grabbed her by the collar, pulling her up to her knees. "Look at me."

She forced her eyes to meet his, tears streaming down her face.

"Tomorrow your grace period ends," he said calmly, as if he hadn't just cursed her to sexual torment. "Every pureblood in this castle can use you however they want. And now they all hold the power to give you what you so desperately need. If you convince them. If you break prettily enough."

His thumb wiped away one of her tears almost gently. "But none of them will. Not without my permission. I'll make sure they all know. You're mine to break, Granger. And I'm going to enjoy every moment of watching you beg."

He released her collar, and she collapsed back onto the bed, body still shaking with frustrated arousal.

"Now get dressed," Draco said, his tone becoming businesslike. "Crawl back to your dormitory. Think about what you've learned tonight. Think about how much worse it's going to get."

Hermione pulled on the thin dress with trembling hands. Every movement made the ache worse. The fabric brushes against her sensitive nipples. Everything was stimulation now. Everything fed the need she couldn't satisfy.

"Wait," Draco said, his wand already raised. "One more thing before you go."

She stood there, swaying slightly, watching as he circled her. His grey eyes studied her body through the thin fabric, considering.

"Lift your dress. Above your stomach."

Hermione's hands moved automatically, bunching the material up to just below her breasts. Exposing her flat stomach, still flushed from exertion, marked with faint impressions of his fingers on her hips.

Draco's wand traced through the air, glowing faintly. She felt heat bloom across her lower stomach as magical letters appeared, hovering just above her skin. Not welts or burns, but glowing script that pulsed with a soft golden light.

MUDBLOOD WHORE

The words stretched across her stomach in elegant, mocking script. Hermione's breath caught as she watched them settle into place, the glow dimming slightly but remaining clearly visible.

"Perfect," Draco murmured. "But I think you need more. Everyone should know exactly what you are now."

His wand moved again, tracing more letters. This time across her chest, just above where the neckline of her dress would sit.

FREE USE

The words burned into existence, smaller than the ones on her stomach but just as visible, positioned so they'd peek out above the low neckline of her shift.

"And one more," Draco said, his voice taking on a darker edge. "Turn around."

Hermione turned slowly, hearing him move behind her. She felt the heat of magic on her lower back, just above her ass.

PUREBLOOD ONLY

"There," he said, satisfaction thick in his voice. "Now everyone will know. You're not just mine, Granger. You're available to any pureblood who wants you. A communal toy for our use."

Hermione lowered her dress with shaking hands. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the glowing letters. She could see "MUDBLOOD WHORE" clearly through the material, the light pulsing softly with each breath she took. The words on her chest were partially visible above the neckline. She couldn't see the one on her back, but she could feel it there, burning like a brand.

"How..." she swallowed hard. "How long will they last?"

"Until I decide to remove them." Draco stepped closer, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "Could be days. It could be weeks. Depends on how entertaining I find watching you crawl through the castle wearing my handiwork."

Tears pricked her eyes. Not just from the humiliation of the words themselves, but from what they represented. Proof that her grace period was truly over. That tomorrow any pureblood could use her, and everyone would know it at a glance.

"Please," she whispered. "At least let me cover them. Let me wear something more..."

"No." His grip on her chin tightened. "You'll wear exactly what I give you. And everyone will see what you are. What you've become."

He released her and retrieved the leash from where it lay coiled on a nearby table. Draco attached the leash to her collar and led her to the door. As it opened and she dropped to her knees to crawl, the reality of her situation crashed over her fully.

She'd come here planning to learn. To endure. To fake submission long enough to manipulate someone and escape.

But now she was trapped in ways she'd never imagined. The orgasm denial spell ensured she'd be genuinely desperate with every pureblood interaction. Made her seduction plan both more convincing and more dangerous.

And now she was marked. Branded with glowing words that announced her status to everyone who saw her.

Because how much of it would still be acting when her body genuinely, desperately needed what only they could give her?
The corridor stones were cold and unforgiving against Hermione's palms and knees. Each crawl forward sent a jolt through her body, muscles aching from being held in position for so long. The thin dress rode up with every movement, barely covering her ass, threatening to expose her completely.

She focused on the rhythm. Hand, knee, hand, knee. Follow the leash. Don't think about the ache between her legs. Don't think about the glowing words marking her body. Don't think about tomorrow.

But thinking about anything else was impossible.

Cum had dried sticky on her inner thighs, a constant reminder of what had been done to her. What she'd begged for. The fabric of her dress brushed against her sensitive nipples with each movement, sending unwanted sparks of sensation through her. Everything was stimulus. Everything fed the need she couldn't satisfy.

Her pussy throbbed with each forward crawl, the denied orgasm still echoing through her system like a phantom ache. She was wound so tight, so desperate, that even the friction of her thighs pressing together as she moved was almost painful.

The leash tugged slightly as Professor Malfoy led her through the winding corridors. He walked at a casual pace, unhurried, as if he were simply taking a stroll rather than parading her humiliation through the castle.

Footsteps echoed ahead. Young male voices. Hermione's heart lurched. She kept her eyes down, focused on the stone floor passing beneath her, but she could hear them getting closer. Students, from the sound of it.

"Professor Malfoy." One of the voices was smooth and amused.

The leash stopped. Hermione stopped with it, kneeling on the cold floor, trembling.

"Gentlemen," Draco said, his tone casual.

"Is this her?" The second voice is rougher. Eager. "The Granger girl?"

Hermione forced herself to stay still. To not look up. To not react.

"See for yourself," Draco said.

She felt their eyes on her. Studying her. She could imagine what they saw. The thin dress barely covers her body. The way she trembled. The glowing letters are visible through the fabric.

"'Mudblood Whore,'" one of them read aloud, voice dripping with satisfaction. "And 'Free Use.' Very generous of you, Professor."

"Her grace period ends at dawn," Draco said simply. "After that, she's available to any pureblood student."

Footsteps moved closer. Hermione's breath quickened despite her best efforts to stay calm. Someone crouched down in front of her. She could see polished black shoes, expensive robes. Student robes.

A hand gripped her chin, forcing her face up.

The boy was maybe in his sixth or seventh year, Slytherin from his robes. Dark hair, cold grey eyes, studying her with clinical interest. She didn't recognise him specifically. Just another entitled pureblood student.

"Look at those eyes," he said to his companion. "Desperate already. How long did you edge her, Professor?"

"Most of the night," Draco said, sounding pleased.

"And the spell?" The second boy, still standing, leaned down to look at her. "The one you mentioned in class?"

"Cast and holding. She can't cum without explicit pureblood permission." Draco's voice carried dark satisfaction. "I'm tracking who grants it. No student does without clearing it with me first."

The boy holding her chin whistled low. "Cruel. I like it, sir."

"She'll be at breakfast tomorrow," Draco continued. "Have at it. Just remember the rules I outlined."

"Tomorrow," the crouching boy repeated, his thumb stroking her cheek almost mockingly. "Hear that, mudblood? Tomorrow you're ours."

Hermione wanted to spit at him. Wanted to jerk away. But she forced herself to stay still. To let him touch her. To accept it.

This was information. This was preparation. She needed to learn how they operated.

"The markings will last?" the standing boy asked.

"Until I remove them," Draco confirmed. "I want everyone to know what she is at a glance. It's part of the lesson."

The boy finally released her chin, standing up. Both of them stepped back, but she could still feel their eyes on her. Assessing. Planning.

"See you tomorrow, Granger," one of them said, voice thick with promise. "Thanks for the demonstration, Professor."

"My pleasure. Now get to your dormitories. It's past curfew."

"Yes, Professor Malfoy."

Their footsteps retreated down the corridor. The encounter was over.

But Hermione's heart continued to race. Her body trembled harder now. Because it had been real. Not theoretical. Not something she could plan around in abstract.

Tomorrow, students like that would use her. Touch her. Push her to the edge of orgasm, knowing she couldn't cross it. And she'd have to endure it while trying to identify which one might be vulnerable to manipulation.

The leash tugged gently. Professor Malfoy resumed walking.

Hermione crawled after him, the ache between her legs somehow worse now. More immediate. More terrifying.

Because tomorrow wasn't some distant threat anymore.

It was hours away.

The entrance to Gryffindor Tower loomed ahead, and Hermione's stomach twisted with dread. She'd made this journey countless times before. Coming back from the library, from classes, from adventures with Harry and Ron. But never like this. Never on her hands and knees, leashed, marked with glowing degradation.

Professor Malfoy stopped at the entrance. The leash went slack. Hermione knelt on the cold stone, trembling, waiting.

"Stand up," he commanded.

Her legs shook as she pushed herself upright. Every muscle protested. Her knees were scraped raw from the crawl, her palms red and tender. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the ache still throbbing between her legs. The denied orgasm pulsed through her system like a second heartbeat.

Draco reached for her collar, his fingers working at the clasp of the leash. It fell away, leather sliding from the metal ring with a soft click. But the collar itself remained. A constant reminder of what she'd become.

"Your grace period ends at dawn," he said, his tone businesslike now. Cold. As if discussing the weather rather than her impending degradation. "I expect to see you in the Great Hall for breakfast. Eight o'clock sharp."

Hermione forced herself to meet his eyes. To not look away. "Yes, Professor."

"Everyone will want to see you." His lips curved into a cruel smile. "Those two students we encountered aren't the only ones who know. I've made certain announcements. By morning, every pureblood in this castle will be aware you're available."

The words hit like physical blows. Every pureblood. Dozens of students. All of them knew they could use her however they wanted.

"You'll conduct yourself appropriately," Draco continued. "Obedient. Submissive. Eager to please. I'll be watching how you handle them." He paused, letting that sink in. "How quickly you break."

"I won't break," Hermione whispered, the defiance coming automatically despite everything.

Draco laughed softly. "We'll see. You're already halfway there, whether you realise it or not." His hand reached out, fingers brushing the glowing letters on her stomach through the thin dress. "Every time you get close to the edge today, you'll think of me. Of this moment. Of what you can't have."

She flinched at his touch but didn't pull away.

"The spell won't wear off until you orgasm with pureblood permission," he reminded her. "Which means it's not wearing off anytime soon. Not until I decide you've earned it. Not until there's nothing left of that stubborn pride."

He stepped back, releasing her.

"Now go. Get some rest. You'll need your strength for tomorrow." His grey eyes gleamed in the torchlight. "I'm curious to see how long you last before you're begging me properly."

Hermione wanted to say something. Wanted to spit defiance at him. To promise she'd find a way out. But the words stuck in her throat, trapped behind the humiliation and desperate need consuming her.

Instead, she turned toward the tunnel entrance. The opening where the Fat Lady's portrait once hung is now just a dark passageway into Gryffindor territory.

She glanced back once. Professor Malfoy stood there, watching her with that satisfied smirk. The leash coiled in his hand like a snake.

Then she stepped into the tunnel, crawling through on her hands and knees. Back into what used to be safety. The tunnel felt longer than she remembered, darker. When she finally emerged into the common room, the familiar space felt alien. Tainted.

The common room wasn't empty. Hermione's heart sank as she emerged from the tunnel, the familiar red and gold space coming into view. Four girls sat near the dying fireplace. Lavender. Parvati. Padma. And one other she didn't recognise. They all turned to look at her.

The glowing letters on her body illuminated the dim space. "MUDBLOOD WHORE" pulsed softly across her stomach, visible through the thin dress. "FREE USE" marked her chest. She couldn't see the words on her lower back, but she felt them there. Burning like brands.

Lavender's eyes lit up with eager interest. She leaned forward, a smile spreading across her face. "Hermione! Welcome to the club." Her voice carried genuine enthusiasm, as if they were discussing a new hobby rather than systematic degradation. "Your grace period's finally over, isn't it? I was wondering when you'd join us properly."

Parvati and Padma exchanged glances. Sympathy flickered in their eyes, but it was overshadowed by fear. They looked away quickly, focusing back on the fire.

The fourth girl, younger, maybe a fifth year, simply stared with hollow eyes. She'd seen too much to react anymore.

No one moved to help her.

Hermione's legs gave out. She collapsed near the fireplace, body trembling violently. The crawl through the castle had drained what little strength she had left. Every muscle ached. Her knees throbbed where they'd scraped against stone. And beneath it all, that maddening pulse of denied need that wouldn't fade.

"He really did a number on you," Lavender said, moving closer. She reached out as if to touch the glowing letters, but stopped just short. "These are beautiful works. Very artistic. Professor Malfoy was always talented with marking spells."

Hermione couldn't find words. Could barely breathe through the humiliation.

"Tomorrow morning," Lavender continued, her voice taking on an almost excited tone. "That's when it really starts. The first day is always the worst. Or the best, depending on how you look at it. So many of them will want to test you. See what you can take. See how desperate..."

"Lavender."

The voice cut through the common room. Sharp. But not quite as cold as it usually was.

Ginny stood at the top of the stairs leading to the dormitories. Her red hair caught the firelight as she descended, eyes fixed on Hermione with an expression Hermione hadn't seen in days. Concern. Actual concern.

Lavender backed off immediately. "I was just welcoming her..."

"Go to bed," Ginny said quietly. But there was something in her voice. Not the usual detached coldness. Something softer.

"Fine." Lavender stood, smoothing her dress. "See you tomorrow, Hermione. At breakfast." She headed toward the stairs, the other girls following.

Parvati whispered something that might have been an apology as she passed. Padma wouldn't even look at her.

Then they were gone, and it was just Hermione and Ginny in the dying firelight.

For a long moment, Ginny just stood there, staring down at Hermione, who was collapsed on the floor. Then something shifted in her expression. The mask cracked, just slightly.

"Can you stand?" Ginny's voice was gentler than Hermione had heard it in weeks.

Hermione tried. Her legs shook, barely supporting her weight. Ginny crossed the room immediately, one arm around her waist, catching her before she fell.

"I've got you," Ginny whispered. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs."

The words were so achingly familiar. So much like Ginny, she remembered that Hermione felt tears prick her eyes.

They climbed the spiral staircase slowly, Ginny supporting most of Hermione's weight. Each step sent jolts through Hermione's exhausted body. The thin dress clung to her sweat-soaked skin. The glowing letters pulsed with each movement.

The dormitory was empty when they arrived. Ginny guided Hermione to her bed, helping her sit.

"Wait here," Ginny said softly. She went to the washstand and poured water into a glass, bringing it back carefully. "Drink."

Hermione took it with trembling hands, gulping the cool liquid. It helped. Marginally.

Ginny sat beside her, not speaking for a moment. Just sitting there, a presence that felt almost like comfort. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. Tentative.

"Your grace period's over." It wasn't a question.

Hermione nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

Ginny's eyes swept over her, taking in the trembling, the flushed skin, the way Hermione's thighs pressed together unconsciously. Recognition flickered across her face. "He edged you. All night."

"Yes," Hermione whispered.

Ginny was quiet for another moment. Then, softer: "And he cast something, didn't he? I can see it in your eyes. That look. Padma had it too."

Hermione's throat tightened. The words came out broken. "A spell. I can't... I can't finish unless a pureblood gives me permission. Explicit permission."

Ginny's breath caught. For just a moment, the mask fell completely, and Hermione saw genuine horror flash across her friend's face. "Oh, Hermione." The words were barely a whisper. Then, quieter: "Oh no. No, no, no."

"It won't wear off until I orgasm," Hermione continued, her voice cracking. "Which means it's not wearing off. He's not going to give me permission. Not until I truly break."

"They did that to Padma." Ginny's voice was raw now, the careful control gone. "She lasted three days. Three days of being edged over and over by anyone who wanted. By the end..." She swallowed hard. "By the end, she would have done anything. Anything they asked. And she did."

The silence stretched between them. Hermione could see Ginny struggling with something internal. Fighting against years of conditioning, of fear, of survival instincts that screamed at her to stay detached.

"I have a plan," Hermione said finally, forcing strength into her voice. "I'm going to find a younger pureblood. Someone I can manipulate. Get them to take me to the Room of Requirement. I can escape from there."

Ginny's expression crumbled completely. Her hands started trembling violently. "Hermione, please." Her voice broke. "Please don't."

"I have to try..."

"No!" The word came out as almost a sob. "You can't. If you try something like that and they catch you..." Ginny's breathing was ragged now. "They'll punish both of us. You know Professor Malfoy made me responsible. If you resist, if you step out of line, I pay the price too."

The raw terror in Ginny's voice made Hermione's stomach twist with guilt. She'd known this, of course. Draco had made it clear from the beginning. But hearing the fear in her friend's voice made it real in a way it hadn't been before.

"You don't understand what they do in the punishment wing," Ginny continued, tears spilling down her cheeks now. "It's not like traditional torture. I could handle that. Cruciatus, knives, whips, whatever. That's just pain. Pain ends." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What they do there doesn't end. It breaks something inside you. Something you can't get back."

"Ginny..."

"I've been there." Ginny's hands were shaking so badly she had to clasp them together. "When I tried to help that other girl. They kept me there for two weeks. Two weeks of... I can't even describe it. By the end, I was begging them. Not for it to stop. For them to let me serve better. And I meant it, Hermione. I genuinely meant every word."

Hermione reached for her friend's hand, squeezing tight. She'd known Ginny had been punished before, but not the details. Not how bad it really was.

"It took me weeks to remember who I was before," Ginny whispered. "To claw back even a shred of myself. And I'm terrified... I'm so terrified that if I go back there, I won't come out at all this time. There won't be anything left of me." Her voice cracked completely. "I'll just be what they want me to be. Forever."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, her own tears falling now. "I didn't realise it was that bad. I knew you'd been punished, but..."

"But you didn't know," Ginny finished softly. "How could you? I never told you." She looked down at their joined hands. "And I'm selfish enough to be more afraid of my own punishment than guilty about not helping you escape."

"You're not selfish. You're surviving."

"Am I?" Ginny's laugh was hollow. "Or am I already broken? Just too afraid to admit it?"

They sat in silence for a moment, both crying quietly.

"I still have to try," Hermione finally whispered. "You know I do. It's who I am."

Ginny closed her eyes, fresh tears streaming down her face. "I know. I know you do." She gripped Hermione's hands desperately. "But please... please be careful. Don't let them catch you. Because if they send me back to that wing..." Her voice broke completely. "I don't think I can survive it again. And I don't want to watch you experience it either."

"I'll be careful," Hermione promised, though the words felt hollow. "I won't get caught. And I won't let them send you back there."

"You can't promise that." Ginny wiped at her tears with her free hand. "But thank you for saying it."

A moment passed between them. Then Hermione asked quietly, "Tomorrow. What should I expect?"

Ginny took a shaky breath, seeming to wrestle with whether to answer. Finally, she spoke. "They'll all want to test you. Some will be cruel just to be cruel. Others will seem kind. Offer you relief if you just submit a little more. Those ones are the most dangerous."

"Who should I avoid?"

Ginny looked conflicted. Like she was breaking rules just by having this conversation. "The Carrow twins, if you can. They're vicious. They love sending people to the punishment wing." Her voice dropped lower. "The Nott boy likes to draw things out. Make you beg for hours."

"And if I'm serious about trying to manipulate someone?"

Ginny hesitated, conflict warring across her face. "There's a fourth-year Slytherin. Cormac Vane. Arrogant, thinks he's Merlin's gift. Desperate to prove himself to the older students." She paused. "He might be dumb enough to believe an act."

"But?"

"But if he catches on, or if Professor Malfoy suspects anything..." Ginny's grip tightened painfully on her hands. "We'll both end up in that wing. And Hermione, I'm begging you. I would rather die. I would literally rather they kill me than send me back there."

The absolute terror in Ginny's voice made Hermione's blood run cold.

"I understand," Hermione said softly. "I'll be smart about it. I promise."

Ginny studied her face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. She stood reluctantly, releasing Hermione's hands. At the door, she paused, looking back.

"I've missed you," Ginny said, her voice thick with emotion. "The real you. Not the scared, broken versions they're making us into." She wiped at her eyes. "I hope your plan works. I really do. But if it doesn't..." She couldn't finish. Just shook her head. "Get some rest. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.

Hermione lay back on the bed, every muscle screaming in protest.  The conversation with Ginny had made everything more real. More terrifying. She wasn't just risking herself. She was risking Ginny, too. And whatever happened in that punishment wing was bad enough that Ginny would rather die than go back.

The ache between her legs pulsed constantly, a cruel reminder of the spell. Of her predicament. Her hands clenched at her sides, resisting the urge to touch herself even though she knew it wouldn't help. The spell ensured that. But her body didn't understand. It just craved release with an intensity that bordered on painful.

Hermione closed her eyes, trying desperately to rest. To gather strength for what was coming. But sleep wouldn't come. Just the constant, maddening ache. The phantom memory of edges never crossed. The desperate knowledge that this was only the beginning.

Tomorrow, everything would get worse.

She had to be perfect. Had to convince this Cormac Vane that her submission was real while still maintaining enough control to manipulate him. Had to get close enough to the Room of Requirement to escape.

And she had to do it all without getting caught. Because if she failed, both she and Ginny would pay the price.

In a place that was worse than death.

Hermione stared at the ceiling, counting her remaining hours of peace. Planning. Strategizing. Trying to ignore the desperate throb of her body.

And wondering if she was strong enough to survive what came next.

A/N: I feel really, really good about the direction this story is going in. I had a ton of fun writing this and the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Text

The hand on her shoulder was gentle but insistent, shaking her from restless half-sleep. "Hermione. Come on, you have to get up. It's almost breakfast."

Hermione opened her eyes to the grey morning light filtering through the dormitory windows, and to Ginny's face hovering above hers, pale and drawn with exhaustion. The other girl was already dressed in that ridiculous uniform that barely qualified as clothing: a skirt so short it rode up to expose the straps of her garter belt, a shirt tied loosely beneath her breasts to show off her flat stomach and the bruised swell of her cleavage, fishnet stockings with tears in the mesh, and those absurd stiletto heels that clicked against the stone floor with every nervous shift of her weight. The Gryffindor tie hung loose around her neck like a leash, completing the obscene picture. She looked like she'd been dressed by someone who'd only ever seen a schoolgirl in a dirty magazine.

Hermione pushed herself up slowly, the thin blanket sliding away to expose her own naked body to the cold morning air. She was leaner now than she'd been before the war, her ribs faintly visible beneath pale skin marked with fading bruises and bite marks. Her breasts were small, her hips narrow, everything displayed and available for anyone who wanted to look. The collar around her throat was cold iron, heavy and unyielding, its weight a constant reminder of her status. Above her breasts, the words Mudblood Whore and Free Use glowed faintly, pulsing with her heartbeat in sickening red letters. Yesterday's curse was already taking its toll. She'd spent the entire day being used, brought to the edge repeatedly, and never once allowed to finish. The frustration had settled into her bones, a constant throb of unfulfilled need that made it hard to think straight.

Ginny's hands twisted in her lap, a nervous habit she'd developed over weeks of constant fear. "As you know, today the grace period is over."

Hermione's jaw tightened. She knew what today would bring. The corridors would be a gauntlet, every pureblood wanting to test the new restriction Draco had placed on her. The thought made her throat close with panic, but she pushed it down ruthlessly. She didn't have time for panic.

She needed to find Cormac Vane.

Ginny must have seen something in her expression because she leaned forward, voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Don't even think about it. Not today. They'll be watching."

Hermione met her eyes steadily. "I don't have a choice."

"You have a choice between surviving and getting thrown in the punishment wing." Ginny's voice cracked on the last words, her terror bleeding through. "Please just get through breakfast."

Hermione dropped to her knees at the dormitory door, the cold stone biting into her skin. Her mind was already racing, planning, calculating. Where would a fourth-year Slytherin be on a Thursday morning? What time did he pass through the main corridor? How could she make him notice her without making everyone else notice her plan?

"Breakfast first," she whispered, more to herself than Ginny. "Then I find him."

She began to crawl

The dormitory door swung shut behind them with a dull thud, and the castle swallowed them whole. The corridor outside was mostly empty at this hour, just a long strip of cold stone and flickering torchlight that made the shadows dance along the walls. Ginny dropped down beside her without being told, her ridiculous heels clicking once against the floor before she settled on her hands and knees, the tiny skirt riding up to bare the curve of her ass as she crawled. Hermione felt the uneven stone bite into her own knees and palms, the chill of the air on her naked skin, every movement a reminder that she was branded and on display.

They didn't get far.

Laughter drifted from a side passage ahead, low and self-satisfied, the kind of sound she had learned to dread. A moment later, three boys stepped into the main corridor, robes open over casual clothes, bookbags slung over their shoulders like they were just another set of students on their way to breakfast. Slytherins, by the green trim. The one in front wore a prefect badge that caught the torchlight. He saw them, and his grin widened.

"Well, look what we have here," he drawled, slowing to a stop. "The famous mudblood and our favourite little blood traitor."

Hermione's instinct was to lower her head further, to pretend she hadn't heard, but Ginny immediately shifted so they were side by side, both of them kneeling upright. The movement was smooth, practised. Ginny knew exactly how to present herself.

"Up on your knees properly," the prefect said lazily. "Faces up. Let's have a look at what we've got to work with this morning."

Hermione pushed herself fully upright, sitting back on her heels, thighs spreading automatically. The cold seared into the most intimate parts of her, but she forced herself not to flinch. Ginny mirrored her posture, the torn fishnets framing the pale skin of her legs, her shirt straining over the bruised curve of her breasts. All three boys' eyes dropped immediately to Hermione's chest, to the faintly glowing words pulsing there.

"Good morning, sirs," Ginny said smoothly, her voice practised and warm. "How may we serve you this morning?"

The words came so naturally from her that Hermione felt a jolt of shock. But she caught herself, swallowed, and added quickly, "We're... we're here to please you. However, you want."

Her voice came out rougher than Ginny's, more desperate, and the boys noticed immediately.

"Merlin," one of them breathed, staring at her chest. "The markings are real. They actually glow."

The prefect reached out and traced the edge of Mudblood Whore with one finger, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin. "You know what they were saying in the common room last night?" he asked, gaze flicking up to her face. "Word is someone cursed you so you can't cum unless a pureblood tells you to."

Hermione's throat tightened.

Her face burned, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. "It's... yes. It's true, sir."

"Seriously?" The second boy laughed, delighted. "So you're just stuck like that? All worked up and nothing you can do about it?"

"Please," Hermione heard herself say, the word slipping out before she could stop it. "Please, if I... if I'm good enough, maybe you could..."

"Maybe we could let you finish?" The prefect's smile sharpened. "Is that what you're hoping for, mudblood? You think if you beg prettily enough, we'll be generous?"

"Yes," she whispered, shame flooding through her even as she said it. "Yes, sir. Please. I'll do anything."

Ginny shifted beside her, and Hermione caught the flash of something in her eyes: sympathy, maybe, or recognition. "She's been like this since yesterday," Ginny said, her voice still steady but with an edge of something softer. "The curse won't let her finish, no matter what. She's desperate."

"I can see that." The prefect looked Hermione up and down, taking in the way her nipples had hardened, the flush spreading across her skin, the way her thighs pressed together. "Absolutely soaked already, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione admitted, the words coming easier now that she'd started. "Please. I need... I need to cum so badly. If I serve you well enough, please..."

"Hands behind your backs," he ordered, already unzipping his trousers. His cock sprang free, half-hard and thickening as he stroked it lazily. "Both of you. You don't need them for this. You've got mouths."

"Yes, sir," Ginny said immediately, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward slightly. "Whatever you want, sir."

Hermione obeyed, lacing her fingers together at the small of her back. The position thrust her chest forward, making the glowing words even more visible. "I'll be so good," she promised, hating herself for the pleading tone in her voice. "Please, I'll make you feel amazing. Just... just please consider letting me..."

"We'll see," one of the other boys said, amused, pulling his own cock out and giving it a few strokes. "Show us what you can do first."

The prefect stepped closer, cock now fully erect and pointing toward Hermione's face. She could see every detail: the thick shaft, the prominent vein running along the underside, the flushed head already glistening with precum. He fisted her hair and dragged her forward.

"Open wide, mudblood. Let's see if that clever mouth is good for anything other than backtalk."

Hermione opened her mouth obediently, tongue out, and he pushed inside without ceremony. The taste was bitter and salty, the stretch immediate as he hit the back of her throat. She gagged reflexively but forced herself to relax, to take it, remembering every degrading lesson she'd been taught.

"Fuck," he groaned, starting to thrust shallowly. "She's really taking it."

Beside her, Ginny had already taken the second boy's cock into her mouth, her head bobbing with practised ease. She hummed around him, the vibration making him curse, and hollowed her cheeks as she sucked. Her technique was flawless, effortless.

Hermione tried to match her, pushing forward to take the prefect deeper, fighting her gag reflex as the thick head of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. Spit dripped down her chin as he fucked her mouth, his grip on her hair tight and controlling.

"Look at them," the third boy said, stroking his own cock as he watched. "Both so eager. Share with your friend, mudblood. Let her taste mine too."

The prefect pulled out with a wet pop, leaving Hermione gasping and drooling. Ginny immediately shifted, guiding Hermione's face toward the third boy's cock with a gentle nudge of her shoulder.

"That's it," Ginny murmured. "Take turns. Show them how well we can work together."

Hermione opened her mouth again, letting the third boy push inside. His cock was slightly thicker, stretching her lips wider, and he didn't give her time to adjust before he was thrusting deep. She choked, tears springing to her eyes, but forced herself to keep going. Every time she gagged, every time spit dripped down her chin, she hoped it was impressing them enough to earn their permission.

They made her and Ginny trade back and forth, sometimes taking turns on the same cock, tongues sliding together obscenely as they worked in tandem. Ginny would lick along the shaft while Hermione sucked the head, or Hermione would lap at the balls while Ginny deep-throated with practised skill.

"Please," Hermione gasped between efforts, her voice hoarse. "Please, is this good? Are we doing well? I need... I need to cum so badly..."

"Keep going," the prefect said, pushing his cock back between her lips. "We'll decide if you've earned it."

That thin promise made her redouble her efforts. She took him as deep as she could, nose pressing against his pelvis, throat convulsing around the thick intrusion. When he pulled back, she gasped for air and immediately moved to the next cock, eager and desperate.

Ginny kept up a stream of soft encouragements between her own efforts. "That's it, Hermione. Use your tongue more. They like that. Show them how much you want it."

Hermione did, swirling her tongue around the head, licking the underside, sucking hard enough to make the boys groan. Her jaw ached, her throat was raw, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Not when there was even the smallest chance they'd give her what she needed.

"Fuck, I'm close," one of them grunted. "Where do you want it?"

"Faces," the prefect said immediately, his breathing ragged. "All over their pretty little faces."

They pulled both girls close together, cocks pumping in their fists as they aimed at Hermione and Ginny's upturned faces. Hermione kept her mouth open, tongue out, praying that this meant they were pleased enough to...

Hot, thick ropes of cum splattered across her face. It hit her cheek, her lips, and dripped down onto the glowing words on her chest. More painted Ginny's face beside her, coating her chin and mouth. The third boy finished last, adding to the mess already covering both girls.

"Keep your mouths open," the prefect panted. "Show me."

They did, tongues out, faces wet with cum and spit, both of them kneeling and displaying themselves. Hermione's whole body trembled with anticipation. Now. Surely now...

"Not bad," the prefect said, tucking himself away. "For a desperate little mudblood, anyway."

"Please," Hermione begged, the word raw in her throat. "Please, you said... You said if I was good enough..."

"Did we?" He laughed. "I don't remember promising anything."

The hope shattered, leaving only humiliation and that relentless, clawing ache. Hermione stared at him, lips still wet with their cum, face burning with shame.

"You thought we'd actually let you finish?" another boy said, zipping up. "That's adorable. If anyone was going to break that curse for you, it wouldn't be us. We're just here for the entertainment."

"Please," Hermione tried one more time, hating how her voice broke. "Please, I did everything you wanted..."

"And you'll keep doing it," the prefect said. "Because you don't have a choice. Now thank us properly. Each of us."

Ginny recovered first, her voice still smooth despite the cum dripping down her face. "Thank you, sir, for using me. It was an honour to serve you."

Hermione forced the words out, her voice hoarse and desperate. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for... for letting me try. Thank you."

Before they left, one of them caught Ginny's chin and turned her toward Hermione. "Your little friend missed a spot. Clean her up."

"Of course, sir," Ginny said without hesitation, leaning in to lick a streak of cum from Hermione's cheek, then lower toward the glowing words on her chest. Her tongue was warm and soft against Hermione's skin, gathering the mess and swallowing it.

"Good girls. You can crawl along now."

They stepped around the two kneeling girls and walked away laughing. Only when their footsteps had faded did Hermione slump slightly, breathing hard, her body screaming with denied need.

"I really thought..." she started, voice breaking.

"I know," Ginny said quietly, wiping at her own face with the back of her hand. "But they're right. No one's going to give you permission unless there's something in it for them. You have to make someone need to keep you satisfied, not just use you once and move on."

Hermione swallowed hard, forcing herself back onto her hands and knees. The ache between her legs was worse than ever, the humiliation burning through her, but underneath it all was a cold, sharp determination.

She needed to find Cormac Vane. She needed to make him dependent on her responses, on her enthusiasm. She needed to make him want to keep her desperate enough to perform but satisfied enough to keep coming back.

"Come on," Ginny said, already crawling forward. "We're not even halfway to the Great Hall yet."

Hermione started after her, every movement sending sparks of frustrated arousal through her body. If this was what random boys in the corridor could take from her, then she had to make sure the next one gave her something back.

Hermione started after her, every movement sending sparks of frustrated arousal through her body. The taste of them still lingered on her tongue, her face sticky with drying cum that she hadn't been allowed to fully clean. Her knees scraped against the rough stone, her palms already tender from the crawl. The ache between her legs was constant now, a throbbing reminder of what she'd been denied.

They rounded a corner and started down a wider corridor that led toward the staircases. More torches here, more light, which meant more visibility. Hermione's stomach clenched at the thought of being seen like this: marked, used, desperate, but she forced herself to keep moving. The Great Hall was still two floors down and several corridors away.

"Almost to the stairs," Ginny murmured, her voice neutral. She seemed unbothered by the mess on her own face, as if this was just another morning. Maybe for her, it was.

Voices echoed ahead, growing louder. Hermione's heart sank even as a traitorous part of her fluttered with renewed hope. Maybe this time. Maybe if she were good enough...

A group of four boys appeared at the far end of the corridor, walking in a loose cluster. Younger than the last group, fourth or fifth years by the look of them, their robes still pressed and their bookbags neat. They saw the two crawling girls and immediately perked up, exchanging grins.

"Well, well," one of them called out, quickening his pace. "Look what we've got here. The new mudblood and Weasley's traitor sister."

Hermione and Ginny both stopped, settling back onto their heels automatically. The position was second nature now: knees spread, back straight, hands resting on thighs, eyes lowered but faces up. Submissive. Available.

"Good morning, sirs," Ginny said smoothly, her voice warm despite everything. "How may we be of service?"

"Looks like someone already had a turn," another boy observed, his eyes roaming over their faces with obvious amusement. "Still got the evidence all over you."

Hermione's face burned, but she forced herself to speak. "Yes, sir. We've been... we've been serving this morning."

"And you're going to serve us too," the first boy said, stepping closer. He was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a cruel smile. "But we don't need your mouths. We've got something else in mind."

Her stomach twisted with dread and confusion. "Whatever you want, sir. Please, we'll do anything."

"I've heard about your curse," he said, crouching down so he was eye-level with her. His gaze dropped to the glowing words on her chest, then lower. "Can't cum without permission. Must be driving you absolutely mad."

"Yes, sir," Hermione whispered. "Please, if you're generous..."

"We'll see." He straightened up again. "First, you're going to entertain us. Both of you. Start by cleaning my shoes. With your tongues."

Hermione's breath caught, humiliation washing over her in a hot wave. But she moved immediately, crawling forward until she was at his feet. Ginny was already at another boy's shoes, her tongue darting out to lick a streak of dirt from the polished leather.

"Thank you for the privilege, sir," Ginny said between licks, her voice steady.

Hermione forced herself to lower her face to the boy's shoes, tongue extending to taste leather and stone dust. The degradation of it made her skin crawl, but she did it anyway, licking carefully along the toe, the sides, even dipping down to the sole when he lifted his foot slightly.

"Good mudblood," he said, clearly enjoying himself. "Now the next one."

She crawled to the second boy, then the third, then the fourth. Each time she had to thank them, she had to pretend this was an honour. Beside her, Ginny moved with mechanical efficiency, her technique perfected through repetition.

"Now," the first boy said when they'd finished all four pairs, "I want you both to tell us what you are. Nice and loud. Start with you, blood traitor."

Ginny didn't hesitate. "I'm Ginny Weasley, a blood traitor whore who exists to serve purebloods. My body and my loyalty belong to you."

All four boys watched Hermione expectantly. She swallowed hard, the words sticking in her throat, but forced them out anyway. "I'm Hermione Granger, a mudblood whore for pureblood use. I exist only to serve and please you. My body belongs to you."

"Louder," one of them demanded. "Like you mean it."

"I'm Hermione Granger, a mudblood whore for pureblood use!" she repeated, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "I exist only to serve and please you! My body belongs to you!"

"Better." The first boy circled them slowly. "Now I want to see you pose. Show off what you've got. You first, mudblood. On your knees, hands behind your head, arch your back. Make those pathetic little tits stick out."

Hermione obeyed, lacing her fingers behind her head and arching her spine. The position made her breasts thrust forward, the glowing words even more visible. The stretch pulled at her shoulders, and she could feel their eyes crawling over every inch of her exposed body.

"Not much to look at," one of them commented. "But I suppose beggars can't be choosers. At least the markings are entertaining."

Another boy stepped forward and slapped her breast casually, making her gasp. The sting was sharp and immediate, and worse, it sent a jolt of unwanted arousal straight through her. He did it again, harder this time, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

"Sensitive," he observed with a grin. "What about down here?"

His hand dropped between her legs, fingers roughly groping at her. She was mortifyingly wet, and he laughed when he felt it. "Absolutely soaked. The curse really does have you desperate, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione gasped, her hips twitching involuntarily against his hand. "Please, sir, if you would just..."

He pulled away immediately, leaving her empty and aching. "Not yet. Blood traitor, your turn. Get on all fours and arch that back. Let's see that arse."

Ginny moved smoothly into the position, her tiny skirt riding up to expose everything. One of the boys gave her ass a sharp slap that echoed in the corridor, and she barely flinched.

"Good girl. Now you, mudblood. Same position. Next to her."

Hermione dropped onto her hands and knees, mimicking Ginny's posture. Her back arched, her ass raised, every part of her on display. The vulnerability of it made her want to crawl out of her skin, but she held the pose.

The boys walked around them, commenting on their bodies like they were livestock at market. Hands groped at their asses, their thighs, occasionally dipping between their legs to test their wetness. Each touch made Hermione more desperate, more needy, the curse ensuring that no amount of stimulation would bring her any relief.

"Say it again," one of them demanded. "Tell us what you are while you're presenting like the animals you are."

"I'm a blood traitor whore," Ginny said immediately, her voice muffled against the floor. "I exist to serve purebloods. Thank you for using me."

"I'm a mudblood whore," Hermione echoed, shame burning through her. "I exist to serve purebloods. Please, please use me however you want. I'll do anything."

Another slap, this time to her ass. Then another. The boys took turns, making both girls count out loud and thanking them for each one. By the time they stopped, Hermione's skin was burning, and she was trembling with frustrated need.

"Please," she begged, unable to stop herself. "Please, I've done everything you asked. If you would just permit me..."

"Permission for what?" one of them asked innocently.

"To... to cum, sir. Please. The curse won't let me, and I'm going mad. Please, I'll serve you so well if you just..."

"Maybe later," he said dismissively. "If you're a good little mudblood for the rest of the day. But we're not interested in giving you rewards right now. We just wanted to see how desperate you really are."

The casual cruelty of it made her want to scream, but she forced herself to stay still, to keep her position.

"You can crawl along now," the first boy said. "We've got class. But remember: purebloods own you. Every part of you. Even your pleasure."

"Yes, sir," Hermione whispered. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you for reminding us of our place, sirs," Ginny added smoothly.

The boys walked away, still laughing and commenting about the show. Hermione stayed frozen for a moment, her body screaming with need, her mind reeling with humiliation.

"Come on," Ginny said quietly, already starting to crawl again. "We're close to the stairs now. Just a little further to the Great Hall."

Hermione forced herself to move, following Ginny down the corridor. Her body ached, her face was still sticky, and the frustration between her legs was so intense it was almost painful. But underneath it all, that cold determination remained.

They rounded the final corner toward the Great Hall entrance, and Hermione's stomach dropped.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, a cruel smile playing at his lips. He wasn't alone. A small cluster of pureblood students, maybe six or seven of them, various years and houses, stood around him in a loose semicircle, clearly waiting for something. When they saw Hermione and Ginny crawling toward them, several exchanged knowing grins.

"Right on time," Draco said, pushing off the wall. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost, Granger. Or perhaps someone was using you so thoroughly you couldn't make it to breakfast."

Ginny's entire body went rigid beside her. The easy confidence she'd maintained through the last two encounters vanished, replaced by genuine fear. Her crawling slowed, and she became hesitant.

"Keep moving," Draco ordered, and they both obeyed immediately.

When they reached him, both girls knelt upright automatically: backs straight, knees spread, hands on thighs. The watching students pressed closer, forming a tighter circle. Hermione could feel their eyes on her naked body, on the glowing words that marked her as property, on the dried cum still streaking her face and chest.

"Look at you," Draco said, reaching out to tilt her chin up with one finger. "Already well-used this morning, I see. How many was it? Three? Four?"

"Seven, sir," Hermione whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Seven." He laughed, turning to address the watching crowd. "Seven purebloods have already had their fun with our little mudblood this morning, and she hasn't even made it to breakfast yet. Do you know why that's particularly interesting?"

The students murmured, but no one answered. Draco's smile widened.

"Because of this." He traced the glowing words on her chest, not quite touching. "Free Use. And the curse that goes with it. Granger here can be fucked, used, stimulated in any way imaginable, but she physically cannot orgasm without explicit permission from a pureblood."

Understanding rippled through the crowd, followed by delighted laughter.

"So she's been on edge all morning?" one of the watching girls asked.

"All morning," Draco confirmed. "And all day yesterday. Every touch, every use, every degrading act just builds the frustration higher. Don't you, Granger?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione forced out, shame burning through her.

"And none of those seven purebloods gave you permission to finish, did they?"

"No, sir."

"Because they're not idiots." Draco stepped back, addressing his audience again. "Why would anyone give her that release? She's far more entertaining and desperate. More obedient. More willing to debase herself for even the smallest chance at relief."

He let that sink in, watching Hermione's face carefully. She couldn't hide the flush spreading across her skin, the way her thighs pressed together involuntarily, the trembling in her hands.

"I'm going to demonstrate," Draco announced. "So you can all see exactly how effective this curse is. Granger, stay on your knees. Blood traitor, hold her leash."

Ginny moved immediately, crawling closer to take the chain attached to Hermione's collar. Her hands shook as she wrapped it around her palm, but she said nothing.

Draco extended one booted foot toward Hermione, the black leather gleaming in the torchlight. "You know what I want you to do."

Hermione stared at the boot, her mind reeling. Not this. Not in front of all these people. Not with Draco watching, controlling, and enjoying every second of her humiliation.

"I..." she started, but the words caught in her throat.

"Hump my boot," Draco said clearly, each word deliberate. "Show everyone how desperate you are. Show them what the curse has reduced you to."

"Please," she whispered. "Please don't make me..."

"You want to cum, don't you?" His voice was soft, almost gentle. "The curse won't break on its own. You need permission. And I'm the only one here who might give it to you. So the question is: are you desperate enough to earn it?"

The watching students were silent now, riveted. Hermione could feel their stares, could imagine what they were thinking. But underneath the humiliation was that relentless, clawing need. Twenty-four hours of denial. Seven encounters this morning alone. Her body was screaming for release, and he was dangling the possibility in front of her like bait.

She repositioned herself over his boot, straddling it on her knees. The cold leather pressed against her most intimate flesh, and she couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her lips. She was so wet that she could feel herself dripping onto the polished surface immediately.

"That's it," Draco said, his voice carrying to the watching crowd. "Look how wet she is already. The curse doesn't stop arousal; it just prevents the finish. She's been building toward this all morning."

Hermione began to move, grinding herself against his boot in slow, deliberate motions. The friction was both relief and torture, finally something to rub against, but knowing it wouldn't be enough. The leather was smooth and unyielding, and every slide of her hips sent sparks of sensation through her that went nowhere.

"Faster," Draco commanded.

She obeyed, her movements becoming more frantic. The slick sound of her wetness against leather filled the corridor, obscene and undeniable. Her clit dragged over the hard surface of his boot with each thrust, and her body responded with desperate enthusiasm. Heat coiled low in her belly, pleasure building in waves that had nowhere to go.

"Tell them what you're doing," Draco said. "Nice and loud."

"I'm..." Hermione gasped, her voice breaking. "I'm humping your boot, sir. Like an animal. Because I'm desperate to cum."

"Why are you desperate?"

"Because of the curse. Because I can't... I can't finish without permission. Please, sir, please..."

"Keep going. Show them how much you need it."

Hermione ground down harder, her hips rocking frantically. The watching students were murmuring now, commenting on her technique, her desperation, the growing wet streak she was leaving on Draco's boot. Ginny's grip on her leash tightened, whether in sympathy or obedience, Hermione couldn't tell.

The pleasure built and built, her body chasing a release it couldn't reach. Her clit throbbed with each pass, her inner walls clenched around nothing, and still the curse held firm. She could feel herself climbing toward the edge, right up to the precipice...

And then nothing. The invisible barrier stopped her cold, no matter how much her body strained for completion.

"Please," she sobbed, still moving. "Please, sir, I'm trying so hard. I'm being good. Please just let me..."

Draco pulled his boot away abruptly, leaving her grinding against empty air. She nearly collapsed forward, catching herself with her hands on the stone floor.

"Not yet," he said casually. "You haven't earned it."

"I did everything you asked," Hermione gasped, looking up at him with desperation that wasn't feigned at all. "Please, I'll do anything else you want, just please..."

"Put your face on the ground," Draco interrupted. "Ass up. Show everyone what you look like when you're begging."

She dropped immediately into the position, forehead pressed to the cold stone, ass raised high. The vulnerability of it made her want to die, but she held the pose. Maybe if she obeyed perfectly...

"Look at that," Draco said, and she heard footsteps as he circled behind her. "Absolutely soaked. You can see it dripping down her thighs. The curse keeps her in a constant state of arousal, but denies any relief. It's perfect for controlling someone who thinks they're too smart to break."

A hand, his hand, touched her, fingers sliding through her wetness without warning. Hermione cried out, her hips jerking involuntarily. He pushed two fingers inside her roughly, and she was so desperate that even that intrusion felt like heaven.

"Please," she whimpered against the floor. "Please, I need..."

He fucked her with his fingers for perhaps thirty seconds, long enough to build that impossible pressure even higher, and then pulled out completely. She heard him wipe his hand on something, probably her own skin, and step away.

"You can crawl into the Great Hall now," Draco said dismissively. "Breakfast is waiting. Maybe if you're a very, very good mudblood today, someone will take pity on you. But I wouldn't count on it."

Hermione stayed frozen for a moment, trembling with denied need and humiliation so complete it felt like drowning. The watching students were already dispersing, laughing and talking about what they'd just seen. No one was going to give her permission. No one cared.

"Come on," Ginny whispered, tugging gently on the leash. "We have to go in."

Hermione forced herself back onto her hands and knees. Her body screamed in protest, every nerve ending on fire, the ache between her legs now almost unbearable. But she crawled forward anyway, following Ginny toward the Great Hall entrance.

Behind them, she could hear Draco laughing.

The massive doors to the Great Hall stood open ahead, and beyond them she could see students already seated at the long tables, eating breakfast like this was a normal morning. Like she wasn't about to crawl in naked, marked, and desperate in front of the entire school.

She had to find Cormac Vane. She had to make this worth something.

Because if she survived this morning and got nothing in return, she didn't think she could keep going.

She would find Cormac Vane. She would make him need her. And she would get what she needed from him, no matter what it took.

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long! Life has me busy, hopefully I will be able to write and post way more over the Christmas period. I have a couple of days now where I am planning on writing as much as I can.  I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Chapter Text

She crawled into the Great Hall.

The massive doors swung open before her, and the familiar space spread out like a nightmare made real. The four house tables were gone, replaced by a single long table of dark, polished mahogany that ran the length of the hall. It was already half-filled with purebloods eating breakfast, their voices echoing off the enchanted ceiling that now displayed the Dark Mark against a stormy sky.

Around the edges of the room, the new order was on full display. Girls in maid outfits knelt beside pureblood boys, holding trays of food above their heads until their arms shook, not allowed to lower them even an inch. Under the table, Hermione could see shapes moving, girls crawling between the purebloods' legs, their heads bobbing as they provided "service" during the meal. Near the entrance, three Ravenclaw girls were posed like statues, naked and painted silver, holding pitchers of pumpkin juice and waiting to be summoned. The air smelled of bacon, coffee, and the musk of sex.

Hermione's knees screamed against the cold stone. Every inch of her body ached from the morning's gauntlet. The glowing words on her chest pulsed faintly, Mudblood Whore marking her as property for anyone to use.

A prefect pointed to a spot along the wall. "You two. Kneel there. Don't move until breakfast is over."

Hermione and Ginny obeyed, settling back on their heels against the cold stone wall. The position thrust their bodies forward, making them perfectly displayed for anyone who cared to look. From here, they could see everything: the casual cruelty at the table, the vacant eyes of the serving girls, the way a Slytherin boy casually pushed a girl's head down into his lap while he buttered his toast.

Hermione forced herself to breathe slowly, to take in details despite the fog of desperate arousal clouding her mind. The curse was relentless, a constant thrum of need that made every moment feel like torture.

"Look," Ginny murmured, barely moving her lips. She tilted her head subtly toward the pureblood table. "That one there. The blond fourth-year."

Hermione followed her gaze. He was hard to miss, taller than the boys around him, with shoulders that filled out his robes in a way that suggested hours of physical training. His blond hair was swept back from his face, and even from across the room, she could see the way his eyes darted around the table, laughing a little too loudly at jokes that probably weren't funny, his posture rigid with the effort of looking like he belonged.

"His name is Cormac Vane," Ginny whispered. "Beater on the Slytherin team. Thinks he's more important than he is."

Hermione watched him reach for a pitcher of pumpkin juice, his movements slightly too eager. When an older boy beside him commented, Cormac's face lit up with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was trying so hard.

Before she could observe more, a group of boys approached from the breakfast table. Six of them, all fifth or sixth years, their robes thrown open casually, bookbags slung over their shoulders. They had clearly done eating and looking for entertainment before classes.

"Well, well," one of them drawled, stopping in front of Hermione and Ginny. "Look what we've got here. The famous mudblood and Weasley's little traitor sister."

The others gathered around, forming a loose semicircle that blocked the girls' view of the rest of the room. Hermione's heart sank even as her body responded with a traitorous surge of hope. Not yet. She'd barely had a moment to catch her breath.

"On your knees properly," the leader ordered. "Hands behind your backs. Let's see what the new free use mudblood looks like when she's really desperate."

Hermione obeyed immediately, clasping her hands behind her back and sitting up straight. The position thrust her chest forward, making the glowing words even more visible. The boys' eyes dropped to them immediately.

"Merlin, look at that," one breathed. "They actually glow."

"Show us how the curse works," another said, stepping closer. "We heard you can't cum without permission. Let's see how desperate that makes you."

The first boy grinned. "Spread your legs. Wide. Show us everything."

Hermione's breath caught, but she obeyed, spreading her thighs until the cold air hit her most intimate parts. She was so wet that she could feel herself dripping onto the stone floor, humiliation burning through her.

"Touch yourself," he commanded. "Show us what you need."

Her hands trembled as she reached between her legs. The moment her fingers touched her swollen clit, pleasure shot through her like lightning. Twenty-four hours of denial had left her so sensitive that even her own touch felt overwhelming.

"Faster," one of them ordered. "Don't hold back."

Hermione's fingers moved frantically, rubbing circles over her clit, dipping inside herself to spread the wetness. The pleasure built impossibly fast, coiling low in her belly. She could feel the edge approaching, that moment when everything would finally release, but the curse was a solid wall. She slammed against it, straining, her body jerking with phantom orgasms that never actually arrived.

"Look at her trying," one of the boys laughed. "Look at how desperate she is."

"Keep going," another commanded. "Weasley, help her. Tell her what a dirty little slut she is."

Ginny flinched but leaned closer, her voice trembling. "You're a... a dirty slut, Hermione. You need this so bad."

"Louder!" the boy snapped. "Encourage her! Tell her to beg for it!"

"Beg for it, Hermione!" Ginny cried, tears in her eyes. "Please, just beg them!"

"Please," Hermione gasped, her fingers still working furiously against her own flesh. "Please help me. Please touch me."

"Beg to be groped," the leader said. "Beg us to use you like a toy."

"Please grope me," she sobbed, her hips bucking against her own hand. "Please use me like a toy. I'll be good, I promise."

The boys laughed, stepping closer. Hands reached out to grab at her, rough fingers squeezing her breasts, slapping her thighs, pinching her nipples hard enough to leave marks. They treated her body like public property, passing touches back and forth while she continued to masturbate desperately, chasing a release that wouldn't come.

"Thank us," one of them said, slapping her ass hard.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione gasped. "Thank you for touching me."

"Is that wetness for us?" another asked, dragging a finger through her slick folds and holding it up to show the others. "Look at that. Dripping like a faucet."

"Yes, sir, it's for you," Hermione whimpered, grinding against her own hand as he watched.

"Make Weasley taste it," the leader decided suddenly. "Let her see what a desperate mudblood tastes like."

Hermione froze, but a hand shoved her head back while another pushed Ginny forward. "Lick her fingers, Weasley. Clean her up."

Ginny hesitated for a split second before she leaned forward and took Hermione's slick fingers into her mouth. The humiliation was absolute, Hermione watching her friend forced to taste her desperation, Ginny's eyes wide and fearful as she cleaned the fluids from Hermione's hand.

"Good girl," the boy sneered. "Now, Granger, back to work. Edge yourself for us. Get right to the brink and hold it there."

Hermione resumed her frantic touching, her body screaming. The boys watched her writhe, offering commentary on her desperation like they were judging a performance.

"Look at her face," one chuckled. "She's completely gone."

"Don't stop," the leader ordered when her hand slowed from exhaustion. "If you stop, we'll make Weasley start."

The threat forced Hermione to redouble her efforts, her fingers growing slick and clumsy. She edged herself again and again, each time slamming into the barrier of the curse, her body shaking with the violent aftershocks of denied release. Her breathing turned into ragged sobs, her hips jerking uncontrollably against her own hand.

"Pathetic," the leader finally scoffed, checking his watch. "Come on, we'll be late for Charms. Leave the bitches here."

"Wait," another said, grinning. "One last thing." He reached down and grabbed a handful of Hermione's hair, yanking her head back. "Beg us to leave you like this. Beg to stay frustrated."

Hermione choked back a sob. "Please, sir. Please leave me like this. Please let me stay frustrated."

"Good mudblood," he sneered, shoving her head forward. She collapsed onto her hands, gasping for air, her body a wreck of unfulfilled need. The boys walked away laughing, their footsteps echoing in the hall as they recounted the best parts of the show.

"Breakfast is over!" a prefect called out moments later. "Girls, you may approach the table."

Hermione forced herself to crawl forward, joining the other girls who were scrambling for the leftover scraps on the table. She was reaching for a piece of cold toast when a familiar voice squealed nearby.

"Oh my GOD, you guys!" Lavender Brown dropped down beside them, her maid's outfit struggling to contain her generous curves. The uniform was designed to reveal, and on Lavender's fuller figure, it barely managed its job. Her breasts spilt over the low-cut neckline, and the skirt rode up to show the rounded swell of her ass. Even now, after everything, she moved with a sensual confidence that spoke of countless hours of practice in presentation.

Hermione barely glanced at her, focused entirely on getting food into her shaking body. The scraps were pathetic, burned crusts of toast, rinds of bacon, half-eaten eggs congealing on plates. She shoved a piece of stale bread into her mouth, desperate for anything to stop the gnawing hunger that rivalled her arousal.

"Did you hear?" Lavender continued, oblivious to Hermione's frantic eating. "About the cheerleading uniforms? Master Flint finally showed us what we'll be wearing for the first game!"

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're green and silver, of course. This pleated skirt is so tiny, it barely covers anything. And when you move, it flips up and shows everything underneath." She demonstrated with a little wiggle that made her breasts jiggle and her skirt ride higher. "Then there's the top, just this little crop thing. It doesn't even cover your nipples properly if it gets cold. Master Flint says that's the point. Says we're supposed to be on display."

Hermione kept eating, her eyes fixed on the table. She didn't care about uniforms. She didn't care about cheerleading. She just wanted to survive the day.

"Who's on the squad?" Ginny asked quietly, picking at a piece of bacon rind.

"Oh! Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson," Lavender rattled off. "And Cho Chang, can you believe it? She looked so proper in Ravenclaw, but Master Flint says she has the right attitude now. And Susan Bones. She's so quiet, but she does whatever they tell her."

Hermione's hand paused mid-reach. Cho Chang? Susan Bones? The names registered, pricking at her conscience, but she pushed the thought away. Everyone was suffering. Knowing who else was degraded didn't help.

"That's six," Ginny said. "Who's the seventh?"

"That's the best part!" Lavender squealed. "There's still one spot open! Master Flint is holding tryouts tomorrow night. He says he wants the perfect girl to round out the squad."

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that was somehow even more graphic. "The best part is after the games. When the winning team gets to pick their favourites for the whole weekend. I already know who I want."

Lavender's eyes glazed over with lust. "Marcus Vaisey. He's a Chaser. I want him to bend me over the locker room bench and just pound me until I can't walk. I want him to hold my hair and make me choke on him while the rest of the team watches. I'd let him do anything, anal, double penetration if he brings a friend... I just want to be filled up."

Hermione felt a wave of nausea but kept eating. Lavender was broken. This was just noise.

"And then there's Cormac Vane," Lavender sighed, her tone shifting to something almost wistful. "He's just a fourth-year, but he's on the team now. A Beater."

Hermione's head snapped up, crumbs falling from her lips. "What did you say?"

"Cormac Vane," Lavender repeated, blinking at Hermione's sudden intensity. "He's cute, isn't he? Those shoulders... and he's so eager to prove himself. I bet he'd be rough but grateful. The way he looks at me sometimes... I'd let him use me however he wanted. I bet he has a lot of pent-up frustration."

Hermione's mind raced. Cormac Vane was on the team. If she were a cheerleader... she would have access to him. Regular, sanctioned access. Practices. Games. The post-game weekends.

"Does he... does he usually pick someone?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Not yet," Lavender said, sounding almost pitying. "He's still new. But Master Flint says he's got potential. Says he just needs the right... motivation." She winked. "That's what we're for, isn't it? Motivation."

Ginny had gone completely still beside Hermione. Hermione could feel her roommate's tension, the sudden realisation radiating off her.

"When are tryouts?" Hermione asked, her voice sharp.

"Tomorrow night, after dinner. Master Flint's office." Lavender's eyes gleamed. "He likes girls who really want it. Who shows enthusiasm."

"I... I think I might try out," Hermione said, the words tasting strange on her tongue.

Lavender squealed, grabbing Hermione's arm. "Oh my god! Really? You totally should! We could be on the squad together! Think about it, Hermione, access to the boys, the uniforms, being watched by everyone..." She leaned in, practically vibrating. "And think about Cormac. If you're on the squad, you could be his favourite. You could be the one he picks every weekend."

Hermione swallowed hard. "Do you think Flint would let me?"

"If you show him you want it," Lavender said eagerly. "If you show him you're ready to be a good girl for the team. Come on, we have to go see the noticeboard! Master Flint is posting the official announcement right now!"

Before Ginny could protest, Lavender was dragging them up, or as up as they could get while crawling. The three girls made their way out of the Great Hall, Lavender chatting incessantly about cheerleading moves and how to make your ass look best in the skirt, while Hermione's mind raced with plans.

They crawled through the corridors, the cold stone biting into Hermione's naked skin. Lavender led the way with practised ease, her maid uniform swaying with the exaggerated roll of her hips.

As Lavender crawled a little ahead, squealing about a particularly difficult cheer move, Ginny leaned close to Hermione's ear.

"You're insane," Ginny hissed, her voice low and urgent. "You know what Flint is like. He's not just cruel, Hermione, he's twisted. He enjoys breaking things."

"I know," Hermione whispered back, her eyes fixed on Lavender's bouncing form ahead. "But I need this."

"He'll make you do things," Ginny pressed, fear tightening her voice. "Things are worse than what happens in the halls. The locker room... the rumours about what happens there..." She trailed off, shuddering. "If he realises what you're doing, if he figures out you have an agenda, he won't just punish you. He'll destroy you."

"I'm already destroyed," Hermione said flatly. "At least this gives me a weapon."

Ginny fell silent as they turned a corner, realising she couldn't stop her friend. Ahead, a small crowd of Slytherins was gathered around a noticeboard. Through the gaps in the legs, Hermione saw him.

Marcus Flint.

He was pinning a parchment to the board with his wand, looking broader and meaner than ever. He wore his Quidditch robes with casual arrogance, the silver captain's badge gleaming on his chest. He turned as the girls approached, his sneer deepening when he saw Hermione, completely nude and crawling.

"Lavender," he grunted, acknowledging the blonde. "Back for more?"

Lavender beamed, practically wriggling with delight. She crawled right up to his boots, pressing her cheek against the leather. "Always, Master Flint. Look who I brought! Hermione wants to try out!"

Flint laughed, a low, cruel sound. He reached down and grabbed Lavender's breast roughly, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. She moaned, leaning into the painful touch, eyes fluttering shut.

"Is that right?" Flint murmured, giving Lavender's nipple a sharp twist through the fabric before releasing her. He turned his predatory gaze on Hermione. "Does the mudblood think she has what it takes?"

He walked over, his heavy boots thudding on the stone. He stopped in front of Hermione, looking down at her naked form with a mix of disgust and dark hunger.

"I want to try for the open spot," Hermione said, forcing her voice to stay steady, though she felt painfully exposed under his scrutiny.

Flint smirked, stepping closer until his boots were touching her knees. He reached out and trailed a finger down her cheek, then lower, tracing the line of her throat, her collarbone, stopping just above her breast.

"You're a mess, Granger," he sneered. "Look at you. Naked, desperate, begging for scraps."

"I'm willing to learn," Hermione whispered. "I'm willing to be useful."

Flint's hand moved lower, cupping her breast with a bruising grip. "Useful? To who? The team? Me?" He squeezed, watching her face for a reaction. "Cheerleaders are property of the team, Granger. Communal toys. Are you ready for that? To be passed around like a Bludger?"

"Yes," Hermione said, wincing slightly but not pulling away.

Flint chuckled darkly, releasing her. He looked back at Lavender, who was watching with wide, excited eyes.

"She's got spirit, I'll give her that," Flint mused. "Alright. Tryouts are tomorrow night. My office." He looked Hermione up and down again, his lip curling. "But don't show up like this. I don't want to see you in your natural state. I want to see what you can become."

He gestured to Lavender. "Brown knows where the supply closet is. Get her something slutty to wear. Something that shows me exactly what you're offering. Fishnets, leather... make yourself look like something I'd want to fuck."

"Yes, Master Flint!" Lavender squealed, clapping her hands. "I know exactly the outfit! The little mesh one with the open cups!"

Flint grinned, a nasty expression that showed too many teeth. "Good. Now get out of my sight before I decide to use you both right here in the hall."

He turned and strode away, the Slytherins parting to let him through. Hermione stayed kneeling on the cold stone, her heart hammering against her ribs. Beside her, Lavender was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Oh my god, he likes you!" Lavender squealed. "Did you see the way he touched you? Come on, let's go find you that outfit! You're going to look so hot!"

Hermione looked at Ginny, who was pale and silent, her warning still hanging in the air between them.

"I'm doing it," Hermione said softly.

"I know," Ginny whispered back, her voice filled with dread. "God help you."