Sometimes I disturb even myself Title: Detritus Author: tattooedsappho Rating: NC-17 Word count: 4,599 Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing(s)/Characters: Hermione/Ginny Ginny/Greyback Hermione/Greyback Ginny/Hermione/Greyback Hermione/Bellatrix Summary: Hermione and Ginny are the last two surviving captives of the Death Eaters. Bellatrix has something planned for Hermione but Greyback wants his share first. Warnings: Non-con, Het, Femslash, Threesome, Torture, Master/slave, Violence, General WTFness Spoilers (Highlight to read):Character Death, Necrophilia Author/Artist's notes: This story took on a life of it’s own just after the second paragraph. I surprised myself with some of the stuff I came up with. Written for hp_darkfest Prompt: I am yours. If you feed me garbage, I will sing a song of garbage. -- Margaret Atwood, "Pig Song"
Hermione tried not to take too much comfort from the fact that Ginny was still with her. She wasn’t sure if it would be better to know what happened to the youngest Weasley or to be forced to only imagine the worst. Dark times, dark wizards, she didn’t think her imagination could come close to the horrors that might be visited upon her friend. When that realization settled uncomfortably over Hermione she could not help but feel guilty for wanting Ginny to be taken next, or herself, only so that she would face the future alone. How Gryffindor would it be for her to deny Ginny whatever meagre comfort her presence would provide during the last moments of her life? The brunette felt like a coward, like a traitor, yet she could not stop hoping that she would die alone - even though she would be unaware of the fate of her friends.
It was with great fear that Hermione greeted the dawn. Something had changed during the night, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She noticed it when she woke up, but couldn’t put her finger on what it was. When a faceless Death Eater refilled her water with a wave of his wand it finally hit her. Straw; there was straw piled up like a mattress under Ginny, her body curled defensively yet giving a feeling of peacefulness. She crept as silently as she could toward the sleeping redhead, her goal almost within arm’s reach when the chain around her neck pulled tight, her breath chased out from her lungs.
“Ginny,” she hissed, hoping to wake her friend. “Ginny!” Hermione squealed as loud as she dared, not wanting to alert the guard to the fact that she was awake.
When a minute passed and Ginny had yet to respond, Hermione moved back, loosening the chain a bit. She took a deep breath, before straining against the suffocating pressure of her bindings to gently prod Ginny’s arm with an extended finger in an attempt to wake her. When she came in contact with cold, hard flesh Hermione had to force herself not to vomit all over herself.
‘She’s dead. Ginny. Ginny is dead. They killed her. Left her here. On purpose. For me to find. Ginny. Dead.’
Hermione found herself unable to retreat into her logical, methodical, analytical habits of thought – the shock was so great. Shaking so hard she was barely able to drag her worn out body to her corner of the cell. Curling up as small as possible, Hermione rested her head on her knees and cried.
Laughter swelled up from the shadows and caressed her skin with terrifyingly cold fingers. Hermione turned to look for the source of the disturbance and strained her eyes against the darkness in an attempt to make out who, or what, was laughing at her. Fear was soon pushed aside by other emotion and Hermione’s eyes filled with tears despite herself.
“How could you? She was just a child!” Hermione cried out toward the laughter.
“How could I? How couldn’t I? Filthy blood traitor. But her death was nothing compared to what yours will be my little pet. Oh, we will have some good fun first, you can be sure of that.”
Bellatrix smirked as she stepped into the meagre light at the centre of Hermione’s cell. A cruel smirk graced her face when Bellatrix turned to gaze upon Ginny’s unmoving body; she licked her lips slowly and turned her eyes to take in Hermione’s shaking form.
“Why do you not look at her? Your friend is still here with you. Why do you not look?” Bellatrix asked as Hermione covered her face with her hands; muffled sobs were her only reply.
“Look at her, look at your friend, look at the blood traitor and know her fate was better than you could ever dream yours to be.”
With a swish of her wand Bellatrix levitated Ginny’s body and moved it closer to Hermione. Her red hair hung limply around her greying face; eyes still open staring blankly ahead as her head lolled to the side, her arms outstretched as if she was nailed to an invisible cross. When Hermione still refused to uncover her eyes, Bellatrix levitated the corpse even closer, brushing Hermione’s shoulder with Ginny’s cold toes. Hermione screamed and Bellatrix laughed, her crazed cackle reverberating off the stone walls so that it seemed as if Hermione was surrounded by psychotic laughing witches. As Hermione whimpered, having screamed herself hoarse, Bellatrix smiled with glee and seemed to become intoxicated with the scent of her captive’s fear. With another flick of her wand, chains appeared that kept Ginny suspended from the ceiling mere feet from Hermione’s sobbing form.
“Play nice with your friend, mudblood. I will check on you later,” Bellatrix crooned before slipping out of the cell and leaving Hermione to her own devices.
Hermione hid her eyes as long as she could, but a sick desire to really look at Ginny began nibbling away at her. She wanted to know what death looked like, what it did to your eyes, your fingers, your lips – Ginny’s lips, once so full of happiness and desire, what would they look like without a soul behind them? She couldn’t bear to look earlier. The shock of discovering her best friend dead, and the fear that was overwhelming whenever she was in the presence of Bellatrix. It was all too much for her to do anything but scream and try to keep the image of Ginny – dead and hanging in front of her like a sick imitation of the crucifixion, an innocent slaughtered by the wicked as she fought only for the good of all – out of her eyes before it was permanently burned into her memory. Now she was alone. Now it was safe, and now she could look at Ginny without it really being GINNY. It was like she was simply examining a cadaver for biology class.
Eyes once brown and shining with joy were nothing but blank orbs staring off into the distance, pupils dilated to the point there was only a thin ring of dull brown where her majestic irises once were. Although Hermione knew her to be dead, the tilt of Ginny’s head was just so that it appeared her eyes were following Hermione’s every move – no matter how small. Her skin was paler than usual; even her freckles seemed faded without the nourishment of freshly oxygenated blood. When Hermione mustered up the courage to touch – and really feel – Ginny’s leg, it was hard and almost rubbery. It was nothing like the soft supple flesh she had felt so many times before. Her hand lingered a moment on the lifeless limb and Hermione forced herself to accept that she would never again see Ginny alive; that the moments she was experiencing just then were the last the two of them would ever share, even if Ginny wasn’t exactly present.
She cried again, still touching – almost holding – Ginny, and this time the tears were not of fear or pain but of grief, of sadness at the loss of the one person she never imagined she would have to live without. Harry, Ron, the twins, her professors, Tonks and Kingsley and the other Aurors – they were all on the front lines; she had prepared herself for having to deal with their loss but not with Ginny’s. Ginny was supposed to be tucked safely away, the youngest of the Weasleys – destined to carry on their noble blood if not their surname. As her tears carved clean trails through the grime on her face Hermione stood before Ginny – an angel even in death, grace present no matter how horribly Bellatrix posed her – and cupped the red head’s face in her hands. Looking into vacant eyes, willing them to connect her with what remained of Ginny – wherever it was – she spoke softly.
“Ginny, Love, you’re gone, gone from me anyway. They, they did it in your sleep – I hope you didn’t feel any pain. I don’t know what is going on outside, we – I’ve been in here over a month. I’m the last one now, now that you’re gone. I hope wherever you are its better than here. You’re finally free; you can leave this place behind you. You can have peace, you can be without pain. Oh Ginny, I’m so glad you’ve gotten a reprieve from this madness. I wish I could come with you but I don’t think that crazy bitch is letting me die anytime soon.”
As Hermione spoke she subconsciously moved her face closer and closer to Ginny’s. Looking up through her lashes she saw her own eyes reflected in the deep blackness of Ginny’s vacant orbs and they seemed to come alive before her. Before she even realized what she was doing Hermione’s lips had sought out Ginny’s. Hot flesh on cold, the desire to kiss her lover one last time blinded Hermione to the truth of what she was doing even as her tongue ran over Ginny’s bottom lip and she could almost taste the staleness of death. Her arms found their way around the corpse’s torso and as Hermione pulled it close her brain registered just how different this Ginny was, and she found she didn’t care. Though the body in her arms was bruised and cold Hermione saw Ginny as she once was – vibrant, warm, and full of life. She kissed her with such fervour that Ginny’s lips grew warm, and as she rested her head in the crook of the corpse’s neck a small sigh escaped her lips.
“My, my, isn’t that sweet. Too bad red can’t return the favour.” Greyback laughed aloud, leering at Hermione from outside the heavy iron bars.
Hermione looked up, startled, and recognized the wolfish man immediately, scampering back into her corner as quickly as she could.
“Oh don’t stop on my account, it was just starting to get good. You really … touched me,” he sneered, rubbing his crotch. “Can’t just stop now, leaving things all unfinished as it were.”
Hermione pressed back against the wall, mute and shaking with fear.
“No? Have to take care of things myself then. ‘Course, I’ll need your help, little girl.” Greyback entered the cell and was on top of Hermione in an instant. “Up, wench,” he grunted, pulling her to feet and pressing himself against her. As Hermione struggled to free herself from his grasp he chuckled menacingly, and ground his pelvis against her unwilling form.
“No! No! Stop it!” Hermione screamed.
“Mmm, just how I like it, bitch. Can you feel what you do to me?”
Greyback clasped Hermione’s wrists over her head in one hand and grabbed her ass with the other. Pushing her into his body, there was no way she could ignore his growing erection.
“Stop! No! Leave me a…”Hermione tried to scream but found her voice was gone.
“Can’t have you raising a ruckus girl. So glad Snape taught me some of that wandless magic.”
Greyback stepped forward, forcing Hermione with him until her back was pressed against the wall, her body pinned under his weight. Still holding her wrists, he groped her breasts with his free hand and leaned in, licking her neck roughly.
“I can smell your fear girl – so strong, so delicious,” he growled.
Ripping her pants down, he thrust his hand between Hermione’s legs, splitting her lips and showing three fingers roughly into her cunt.
“My my, little one, is this for me or are you dripping for the dead bitch you were snogging earlier?”
Greyback pulled his hand out of Hermione, slick and glistening, and held it to his face. He sniffed once, smirked, and licked his hand clean.
“You taste even better than you smell girl. Good for you.”
He released his grip on Hermione’s wrists and she immediately began pounding on him with her fists. With a laugh he pushed her down to her knees and immobilized her with another wandless spell. Forcing her mouth open, he licked her lips before pulling his penis out of his robes and smirking at the horror shining in Hermione’s eyes.
“I need a little something to tide me over till tonight. Your mouth will do.”
Stroking himself a few times he stepped closer and rubbed his head all over Hermione’s face leaving streaks of pre-cum shining in its wake.
With a smirk he thrust his penis into Hermione’s open mouth, her teeth lightly grazing his skin, and slapped his balls against her chin. As he pulled out, the pressure of Hermione’s teeth increased as did the friction of her immobile tongue. With one hand Greyback braced himself against the wall, the other he placed on top of Hermione’s head – squeezing or pushing as he felt inclined to. Greyback soon developed a rhythm and the sound of his scrotum slapping Hermione’s face thudded like tribal drums as it echoed off the cell walls. Soon his left leg began twitching and he increased the pace of his frantic humping.
“Oooh fuck yeah you little cock tease! Mmm yeah, take it you mudblood bitch. You like it, don’t you?”
Greyback’s moan of release sounded eerily like a howl; he came in Hermione’s mouth, filling it with semen, then pulled out and used his hand to instigate a few final spurts which he directed at her face and chest.
“Tastes good, don’t it girl? More for you tonight, won’t that be fun?”
Greyback smirked at Hermione, left the cell and released the body bind as he passed out of her view. When Hermione tried to scream she found she was still magically muted.
After spitting out the semen that hadn’t dripped down her throat while she was immobilized Hermione stood up and walked over to Ginny’s body. Silent tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped her face on the remains of her shirt. Mouthing, “I’m sorry,” she kissed Ginny’s cheek and lay down on the floor. Ginny’s corpse hung unmoving, a macabre sentry unable to warn Hermione of what was coming yet comforting regardless, and Hermione was asleep within moments.
“Isn’t that sweet, the cunt and the corpse. Someone should take a picture.”
Hermione instantly chilled when she heard Greyback’s mocking tone. Thankful that she was still mute, Hermione resisted the urge to assail him with rude gestures, assuming such action would simply infuriate the werewolf and inspire him to harm her in more ways. He entered the cell and took his time walking to her, pausing and making pouncing gestures every few steps like he was teasing her or trying to gauge how scared Hermione was.
“We’ve got a bit of time before sunset; I think it’s time for red to have her turn.”
Hermione had pushed herself up and moved away from Ginny as quickly as she could when Greyback entered the cell; she was sitting in the corner, hands around her knees, eyes wide open in fear when he hit her with the body bind for the second time in as many days.
“Lucky girl, you get to watch,” he mocked as he banished the chains and clothes and caught the corpse before it hit the floor. Holding the body in one arm he stripped off his robes with his free hand.
“Wouldn’t want to get my clothes dirty, would I?”
Greyback was already growing hard, it didn’t take him long to stroke himself to full hardness at which point he spit twice into his pant and smeared his salvia over his erection. Grabbing the corpse by the waist with both hands he lifted it up and forced its legs open with his knee. In one swift move picked it up a bit higher and plunged his penis into the growing coolness of the corpse’s vagina. Using his arms he lifted the corpse up and let is slide down his shaft over and over again, its head snapping back and forth with the force of his movements. Hermione was forced to watch as Greyback pounded away, his face contorting into hideous expressions of glee as he spilled his seed and flooded the corpse with semen.
“A good fuck, but a bit cold if you ask me.”
Greyback laughed at his own joke as he simply dropped the corpse to the floor.
“Now girl, your turn is next and I think you know exactly what is coming. Behave yourself and I won’t bite you – tonight. Or you can try to fight it and find out exactly what your dear Professor Lupin went through each month.”
With that he removed the body bind and looked at Hermione expectantly. Hanging her head she nodded, just barely, with a resigned sigh.
“First things first, get over here and clean up red, seems I made a bit of a mess on her. Use your tongue, make me enjoy it.”
Hermione didn’t move fast enough for Greyback’s liking, he took a menacing step toward her and she yelped silently, running over toward Ginny’s corpse and kneeling before it. She took a long look at the corpse and froze, only to move again when prompted by a cough from the werewolf. Silent tears running down her cheeks, she bent her head to Ginny’s thighs and tentatively ran her tongue along Ginny’s flesh. Greyback’s cum was bitter and salty and left a bad taste in her mouth but she was too afraid of the monster in the cell with her to spit it out or stop licking. Pushing her nausea aside she forced herself to continue licking despite the ball of disgust churning in her stomach. She brought her tongue to the semen covered pubic hair and drove it deeply into the cooling depths of the corpse’s vagina.
“Don’t go missing any spots now.” Greyback murmured as he stepped behind Hermione.
Hermione moved with her mouth to suck all the semen off the red bush before her just as Greyback pushed her forward onto Ginny, down on all fours, and thrust into her in one fluid motion.
“Mmm, nice and tight, just like I thought it would be. Oh keep sucking girl, you’re not done yet.”
Tears of pain streamed down Hermione’s face, emotionally and physically she was pushed far beyond anything she had ever fathomed and she could do nothing but obey in the hopes that her nightmare would end sooner. Greyback increased his rhythm, slamming into Hermione at a quickening pace all the while barking threats if she were to stop eating out the corpse before her.
“What are you – CRUCIO!” Bellatrix screamed as she entered the cell.
Greyback dropped to the floor, howling and twitching in pain as the crazed witch advanced on him.
“She is mine; our Lord gave her to me! Leave my property alone!” She held the curse until he passed out then kicked him awake and shouted, “Crucio,” again. When Greyback began spitting blood she finally released him, levitating his unconscious form out of the cell.
When Greyback was thrown off of her Hermione she curled into a protective ball and leaned against Ginny’s corpse not daring to move lest she draw the wrath of Bellatrix upon herself. It seemed strange that her savoir would come in the form of one of her most bitter enemies but she wasn’t beyond thanking Merlin for whatever sort of help she was sent.
“What did he do to you mudblood?” Bellatrix asked, startling Hermione because the disdain that usually laced Bellatrix’s words towards her was absent.
Hermione looked up and pointed to her mouth, opened it, tried to speak then shook her head.
“Oh, he had the forethought to mute you? Impressive for such a fleabag as Greyback.” Bellatrix swished her wand and addressed Hermione again. “Tell me girl, what did he do to you?”
“He, he…” Hermione burst into body racking tears and could not answer.
“Do not try my patience girl; I protect you because you are mine not because I care for you. I need to know what was done so that I can fix my property if it needs fixing and so I can punish that creature appropriately for his indiscretion.”
Hermione wiped her eyes, took a steadying breath and spoke up.
“He forced me to suck him off last night and left me unable to speak. When he came in today he raped Ginny and then told me he would bite me if I didn’t lick his filthy cum off of her body and then he pushed me down and raped me too,” she said, unable to look Bellatrix in the eye.
“I see.” Bellatrix took a step closer to Hermione and watched as the Gryffindor flinched, shuddered but didn’t move. “Seems he has already broken you. Pity, I would have rather had the pleasure of doing that myself. I think you would have too, right mudblood?”
Hermione didn’t dare think about the implications of her response, relieved as she was to have Greyback off her.
“Yes what mudblood?” Bellatrix grinned as she flicked her wand against her teeth with something akin to amusement.
“Mudblood, you never call your Mistress by her name!” Bellatrix roared.
Tilting her head to the side she smiled before continuing. “It is either Mistress or Ma’am. You would do right to remember that, for you will never get another warning and you do not want to make me displeased with you.”
“Good mudblood.” Bellatrix flicked her wand at Hermione and the girl was enveloped in a warm, golden light. “Now, stand before me mudblood.”
Hermione stood and walked a few steps toward Bellatrix, her head hanging though her body did not shake. Bellatrix used the tip of her wand to lift Hermione’s head, forcing the Gryffindor to meet her eyes.
“No pet of mine ever shows weakness. That includes being ashamed of anything, even if your sires were pigs and you were improbably blessed with the gift of magic. Your clothing will be this.”
Bellatrix summoned a pink leather collar and fastened it around Hermione’s neck before banishing the remnants of her clothes with another movement of her wand. “Do not wander or displease me mudblood, your collar is a special one. Come.”
Bellatrix turned and walked briskly out of the cell, Hermione following a moment later. Hermione followed Bellatrix up the stairs and down hallways, twisting and turning for what seemed like ages before they came to a set of heavy wooden doors.
“You are never to leave the rooms beyond these doors without me,” Bellatrix warned, opening one of the doors and walking inside.
Hermione stepped in and stood just inside the door, unsure of what she should or shouldn’t do. She didn’t want Bellatrix to think she wasn’t grateful for saving her, she didn’t want to upset her Mistress, and she definitely did not want to get punished.
“You will clean yourself in the bath,” Bellatrix pointed through a doorway, “then you will return to me out here. Be quick mudblood, be quick.” The warning in Bellatrix’s voice gave Hermione chills and she vowed this would be the quickest bath she had ever taken.
The tub was reminiscent of the Prefects’ Bath at Hogwarts and Hermione soon had it full of warm frothy water complete with scented bubbles. Scrubbing as fast and as hard as she could, in an effort to remove the feeling of Greyback from her body as much as to please her Mistress, she was soon bright red and slightly sore in the arms. Scrubbing her hair took longer than she wanted, it was matted and dirty in a most aggravating way but she did not want to risk not being clean enough for her Mistress. Once her hair was completely clean Hermione jumped from the tub and ran back to the main room.
“You are still wet mudblood and your hair is quite frankly worse than I ever could have imagined it ever looking.”
“I am sorry Mistress. It took me this long to just get clean and I did not want to disappoint you by taking too long.” Hermione replied, averting her eyes but keeping her head erect.
“Clever little mudblood, you do learn fast. However, you still got water on my bedroom floor and for that you will have to be punished.”
Bellatrix embellished her point with a swift slap across Hermione’s face as a tingle began emanating from the collar around Hermione’s neck. It rapidly became painful enough to make her flinch at which point it stopped.
“You will learn the rules soon enough. I am not by any means an uncompassionate Mistress but if you cross me you will wish you only had the collar to deal with.” Hermione nodded quickly, visions of Greyback’s limp body floating before her eyes.
Bellatrix brandished her wand; one flick banished the water, a swish to dry Hermione completely and a complicated motion detangled her hair.
“I will not have my pets looking like I can ill afford to care for them. I will provide you with a potion for your hair which will keep it looking presentable; it is YOUR responsibility to make sure it stays that way.”
Summoning a small jug she handed it to Hermione, “Put this in your hair and work it through.”
Hermione turned to go back to the bathroom and stopped when she heard her Mistress cough. “I did not tell you to leave mudblood. Do it here.”
Bellatrix stood behind Hermione as she opened the jug and poured some of the iridescent liquid into her hand before placing the jug on the floor. Hermione felt her Mistress’ eyes upon her as she rubbed her hands together and began working the potion through her hair. Bellatrix slowly walked around her pet, eyes roaming over her reddish skin, noticing how her muscles moved as she worked the potion into her hair, inhaling the lingering scent of the various additives Hermione used in her bath and all the time smirking to herself.
Hermione had closed her eyes as she moved her fingers through her thick hair, they jerked open in surprise when she felt hands upon her breasts only to find her Mistress gazing at her as if to gauge her reaction to such a thing. She continued working on her hair, releasing a jagged breath and said nothing.
“Good little mudblood. I think you will do just fine.” Bellatrix whispered, bringing her head down to Hermione’s breast and biting her nipple sharply.
Hermione yelped involuntarily as her body twitched but she forced herself to finish with her hair lest she draw her Mistress’s displeasure.
“Very good little mudblood. I do hope you slip up eventually; I shall miss not having to punish my pet. Perhaps I shall have you make it up to me in other ways.”
Tilting Hermione’s head up with her finger Bellatrix softly kissed her lips.
“Funny, you don’t taste like mud,” she said before kissing Hermione again.
‘Merlin no. I’m not supposed to like this. This is Bellatrix Lestrange! It’s bad enough I’m her new pet, I don’t need to enjoy it!’
Hermione began to respond to her Mistress’ kiss; Bellatrix bit down on her lower lip hard, drawing blood, and pulled back slowly.
“Red blood? Little pet, you are full of surprises,”
Bellatrix laughed as she licked the thin stream of red that was creeping out from the corner of Hermione’s mouth. Hermione couldn’t help but moan as Bellatrix’s tongue slid over her lips, her body betraying her further by shivering ever so slightly.
“No, you don’t taste like mud at all,” Bellatrix smirked.