Perfectly in Pieces

Chapter 56: Hermione

Not one part of her wants to be on this mattress where he...

She swallows, and listens carefully for his raspy inhales and exhales. Or the sound of a quill meeting parchment over to the left where his desk is. Or for the noises of glass clinking against each other above her head where the line of potions, vials, and other horrendous experiments usually began.

She waits.

And waits.

Holding her breath the entire time, knowing that if she made it the full extent before needing to take in air, he more than likely wasn't here.

She isn't sure how much time passes before she finally has to take in oxygen, but the room stays silent the entire time.

Thank Merlin...

The realization that she is alone has the tears streaming down the side of her face within seconds. The involuntary shaking starts only moments later.

Because she is in his bed. She can feel it.

And she knows what this means, she knows he has a plan. Something in store for her, to do to her.

And she was being forced to wait for the inevitable.

Am I in trouble? Or being rewarded?

She tries to remember what must have happened to create the situation she is in, but as soon as she pictures his face; everything comes crushing forward.

Images, pictures, actions, and conversations combine, and overpower until she is squeezing her eyes and pressing her teeth together so hard her jaw cracks.

Flashes of blonde, brown curls, a tooth, vials, potions, being bent over, weight and musk surrounding her, weight and mint on top of her, pressure, tearing, pain and pleasure inside of her, marks and mouths, pet, love...

"What the..."

"Is she magically restrained to the..."

"Granger stop!"

Cool hands grab her head, and stop her from shaking it back and forth as hard as she can. Her cheeks are soaking wet under the contact, and she can't stop herself from beginning to sob loudly as the torture begins.

"I don't feel good Master, my head... Please, my head hurts. I promise I will..."

"Dolohov is dead Hermione. You kil..."

"Not the time Weasley. Granger, nothing is going to happen to you. Help me with the binds. They fucking strapped her..."

Hands are on her again.

More hands than two again.

Another game pet.
Make them all happy...

She tries to stop herself from sobbing, but nothing in her is able to fight against any reaction. Her body and mind are both out of control. Everything feels like it is happening all at once, touching her all at once, thinking and remembering everything all at once. Combining, colliding, and consuming in a way that leaves her at her own mercies. At her own ruin.

She keeps her eyes closed. She doesn't want to see what is about to happen to her. Not again. Maybe they wouldn't make her watch. Maybe they wouldn't make her participate. Sometimes they didn't. It feels like they had already given her some type of delirious inducing potion.

The pressure against her wrists disappears as she hopes they will just do what they want quickly.

"Granger, listen you are safe, okay? Come back."