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Hermione had long grown numb to her circumstances.
In the years since Voldemort won and the Order of the Phoenix lost, her life had morphed into an unfathomable hellscape, the likes of which her teenage mind could have never comprehended. Still standing in the ruins of Hogwarts, she’d been apprehended by the Death Eaters and forced into a cell in Azkaban. With the dementors enjoying their new expanded territory, they didn’t hang around the prison in the same numbers as before. Escape from the prison had been easy. -
Finding someplace to go had been more difficult.
The surviving members of the Order were also imprisoned, or had scattered like dust on the wind.
The muggle world had seemed like a safe option at one point. She had imperiused and obliviated her way into obtaining a plane ticket to Australia but as she passed through security at the airport, the muggle agent had pulled her aside for a ‘routine security check, ‘ in a private room.
Yaxley was waiting there, dressed as a muggle, thanking the airport staff for helping them find such a highly dangerous criminal. He handed them each a wrapped stack of cash and she knew he hadn’t even needed to confund them.
The Death Eaters had infiltrated the muggle world as well. It seemed there was no place left to run anymore.
As Voldemort grew weaker from stretching his mortality too far, the Death Eaters took more liberties for themselves as the aristocracy of the wizarding world. They soon found far more amusing means for their captives than watching them rot in cells.
Which is how Hermione found herself at Elysium, the sex club that had been her home for the last two years.
As a muggle-born, she was forced to wear a large amulet around her neck, the chain of which stopped just short of her breasts. The locket was big enough that the words inside, ‘Mudblood; Do not breed!” were easily read by anyone within arm's reach. It sent a contraceptive charm off at the top of every hour of her shift, despite the fact that one could have been sufficient for the evening. The Lestrange brothers owned the club and would be held responsible if the ‘wrong girls’ got pregnant and further tainted precious magical linages and reputations. She hadn’t been entrusted with so much as a spell book, let alone a wand.
The novelty of raping ‘ The Golden Girl’ had worn off in her first weeks, sometime after she had stopped screaming or fighting. Instead, she stared at them, blank-eyed, asking them inane questions about themselves, the news or the weather, just to watch them react. Even if they silenced her, she would just lie there, heavy-limbed and dispassionate about anything.
By the end of the first year, no one booked a room with her. It wasn’t worth the exorbitant price the Lestranges charged for her formerly famous status.
Most nights, she wandered aimlessly, eavesdropping on conversations that might have proved useful and finding nothing. On the slowest nights, she found herself simply waiting for the end…for the sweet release of death.
This was her second Beltane spent at Elysium, and the club was more packed than ever, even in its earliest days. As the magical population thinned, the desire for heirs was more desperate than ever. Half blood and Pureblood pregnant witches became a protected class, being allowed to demand protection and wealth of the wizard who fathered their unborn children (after a paternity spell, of course), whether he was already married with children or not.
Every child born from these circumstances was declared a pureblood, automatically giving them more rights than some of their parents. Siring and caring for illegitimate children was becoming a status symbol among the wealthy.
The amount of fertility magic being practiced was almost as prevalent as dark magic.
This made Hermione even more irrelevant, and she was fine with that. She made her obligatory rounds around Elysium, counting the minutes until her night ended. She wore a black corset, knickers, heels, and of course, her amulet, and no one even glanced her way.
Amongst the chattering crowd, she spotted the faces of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott for the first time. She hadn’t seen them since her last year at Hogwarts and assumed they had found contentment somewhere with the new world order.
She snorted softly at the thought that they must have been bored with whatever Pureblood princesses had been assigned to them by Voldemort. Or perhaps they wanted to start working on their collection of heirs.
Theo’s sharp blue eyes landed on her, and his face morphed into a leer, making her blood run cold. He nudged Malfoy with his elbow, and the blond leaned back in his seat to stare blank-faced, only tipping his drink at her in acknowledgement.
The lack of emotion might have been worse.
Few of the people who had come through the club to hurt or humiliate her had been her schoolmates. She understood it as some kind of psychological threshold of being infinitely more complicated to assault someone you were familiar with versus someone you didn’t know anything about.
But what could they want from her and why had they waited until now? To extract more revenge for childhood misdeeds? Maybe their bloodlust couldn’t be satisfied with nameless strangers anymore.
Maybe they only got off on torture now.
The thought made her want to run for the first time in years. She hoped the terror didn’t show on her face as she casually moved towards the private rooms, hoping to hide from them until they were distracted.
Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she saw that they had stood and were following very close behind. Swallowing hard but moving at the same pace, she slipped inside a room and tried to close the door, to find that Malfoy’s hand had grabbed the top, keeping it open.
Before she could make a sound, strong arms had grabbed her around the middle, pulled her inside and there was the sharp stab of a wand point against her neck. Magic pulsed through her and her wrists were bound together and rose above her head.
“Don’t scream.” Nott’s voice came from behind and brushed past her ear. “Just listen.”
Panic awoke from deep within her, making her breath come in sharp bursts. “I won’t…I won’t scream…please…you don’t need to hurt me. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
Malfoy seemed to have his own agenda, casting a series of spells over the door and then over her. He then pulled the amulet off over her head, cast a geminio to duplicate it, and threw the real one to the ground. Stomping on it hard with the heel of his boot, he glared as if it had personally offended him.
The Lestranges were going to kill her. No, if she was lucky they would only kill her instead of prolonging it into a public spectacle of their favorite ways to torture. There was no way they would believe their precious nephew had removed it by force.
That gave her the motivation to fight against Nott’s hold again, but he was too strong. He actually chuckled and purred in her ear. “If you keep wiggling that pert arse against me, it’s only going to make me harder.”
“Theo,” Malfoy said in a warning tone. He grabbed Hermione’s chin to hold it still and looked deeply into her eyes. “I knew there would still be a spark, Granger. I knew you still had to have some fight left.”
“What could you possibly want from me?”
“It’s simple, Granger. We want you. Both of us, together and separately. We want you to be ours, and we want you to be the mother to our heirs. We’ve been trying to find a way since we learned you were here.” Malfoy pulled out a vial from an inner pocket of his outer robes before shedding them, letting them drop to the ground. He held it up to her eye line, allowing her to examine it closely. The potion was the same color as smoke and swirled the same way.
“One sip of this and it’ll cancel the previous contraceptive spell and you’ll hyperovulate. Then, Theo and I can perform the rite for you to carry on our bloodline. Between that and the fact that it's Beltane, there’s no doubt you’ll be pregnant. We’ll be bound to you, Granger, by blood and magic. You’ll have the life you’ve always deserved.” Malfoy whispered in a tone that suggested he’d thought about these words for a long time. Nott let out a hum of agreement, running his gloved thumb along the skin of her arm in a possessive gesture.
“How do I know you won’t just kill me…or worse? Why should I trust you at all?” Hermione whispered the words back, though she was sure they couldn’t be overheard.
“What have you got to lose? How much longer do you think they’ll let you live if you aren’t useful to them? Are you planning on hiding in the shadows forever or do you think you’ll survive your next escape attempt,” Malfoy responded bluntly.
“Let us give you a life of orgasms and libraries, love,” Theo murmured, brushing a kiss along her neck. “The life you deserve.”
Hermione’s lip trembled, overwrought with too many emotions she’d tried to keep buried for so long.
“Okay. Just please, don’t hurt me. If this is all a lie, please just kill me when you’re done.” She sniffed as a warm tear rolled down her cheek.
“Oh no, sweetheart, we’d never hurt you.” Draco cooed, sinking to his knees, parting her legs as Theo cupped a hand under her thigh to hold her open. “This is going to feel so good. There’s a good girl.” His eyes gleamed as if being presented with something he’d been craving for ages. His fingers swiped over her knickers, and Hermione felt her face heat with embarrassment at how wet the praise had made her.
“Hurry up,” Theo complained, “as much as I love the tease, we’re running out of time and her hair is trying to suffocate me.”
Draco clicked his tongue in admonishment. “The more she comes, the more powerful the spell will be. “ He slid the knickers down her hips and studied her. Then, his mouth was on her.
Hermione tossed her head back as a real moan tore free. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like that, had seen to her pleasure in any way that every pass of his tongue felt like bliss. With his mouth and fingers working in tandem, Malfoy seemed to demand her orgasm from her, giving her no choice but to succumb to it, fresh tears running down her cheeks.
Nott muttered praises from behind her, holding her tight so she had to take every ounce given and hear every phrase uttered.
Malfoy stood, his tongue darting out to taste her arousal still around his mouth, and held up his fingers so that Nott could take them between his lips with a moan.
“Fuck. I knew she’d be sweet,” he gasped, using one hand to push her hips down to grind against his hard length, straining against her ass and back. He shifted and freed the other arm, holding it above her own, palm open. Malfoy interlocked their fingers and immediately, a blue swirl of magic curled around their joined hands, slowly snaking down their arms.
“Theo and I are soul-bonded.” Malfoy explained at Hermione’s curious expression. “Joined for all eternity. One source of magic, one heartbeat, one soul, for all our lives to come.” He sighed as if this were a perfectly normal romantic notion and not borderline insanity. “There’s no infidelity between us, because one feels as the other does. It would be painful to act against it.”
“He is mine as I am his, and now, Hermione, you’ll be ours,” Nott said, as their hands moved in unison, parting ever so slightly with the magic still wrapped like ropes around them. Slowly, they encased both of her bound hands in the glow.
She felt it melting over her, fusing with her magical core, and lighting up all her senses. Desire, as she had never felt it, replaced apprehension.
Hermione felt what Draco and Theo did, and she knew they were true to their promise of never wanting to hurt her. They were getting what they had longed for, for years now, the object of all their wildest fantasies.
The sensation made another moan escape from her lips.
Before she could ask more questions, Draco had turned her around to face Theo, looping her bound arms around his neck.
“Hello, love,” he chuckled as he wrapped her legs around his waist. There was a rustle of fabric and another shift.
And she was sinking down onto Theo’s cock.
Hermione whimpered despite the relief. It had been a long time and Theo stretched and filled her entirely.
“Relax, sweetheart, or we’ll both never fit.” Theo ground out, bouncing her up and down gently.
“Both? I’ve never…it’s been ages…I don’t think…”
Draco made a shushing sound from behind her, rubbing the length of her spine with one hand, the other pushing the blunt head of his cock against her as Theo kept using his strength to maneuver her wherever he liked.
“It won’t fit. I can’t—”
But her words were stolen as a deep gasp left her lips. Draco had pressed his length against Theo’s and now they were both inside, filling her to the point where it was a little painful but extremely pleasurable. Theo hummed in approval as Draco dropped kisses on her shoulders. All she could do was hold on as they started to move, her whole body trembling, her mind only focused on relishing the feeling of being so full.
Images of herself being round and pregnant came to mind, her cunt still dripping yet more seed, her tits heavy and leaking milk. The wizards on either side of her were worshipping her body, praising it for the miracle it would bring forth.
With her eyes closed, she buried her face in Theo’s neck, rolling her hips in time with their faster, more erratic thrusts.
They told her it would all come true as soon as she came, as soon as she let herself belong to them.
So she did, her scream muffled by Draco’s fingers sliding over her mouth. Her vision blurred and warmth filled her cunt as both wizards filled her with so much spend that it gushed on to her thighs.
Theo helped her ease her legs back down to the ground as Draco undid the spell holding her hands together. Her whole body trembled as the adrenaline subsided. They cleaned and redressed her reverently, even taking a minute to fix her hair and make-up.
“When will we know it worked?” she asked, regaining herself to normal. “You won’t leave me here too long, will you?”
“One more night,” Theo reassured her. Tomorrow, insist that you need a healer. They’ll do a pregnancy test right away. It’ll be visible by then.”
Hermione never even had to ask to see the Healer.
Narcissa Malfoy had stormed the club early the following day, incessant with rage.
A new golden vine had grown on the Black Family Tapestry overnight, reaching out to a new name beside Draco’s.
Hermione's.
Narcissa had thought it was a plot by her brothers-in-law to discredit and humiliate the Malfoys. To let the next of their line continue to grow under such pitiful conditions. While the Malfoy Matriarch did not seem thrilled that Hermione was to be her daughter-in-law, she was not about to let her status and wealth be questioned amongst their circles.
Within hours, Hermione knew it had worked. From the moment they parted, she felt an unexplainable pull toward the two wizards that only grew tenfold overnight. Magic swirled and swelled within her like she had never felt before, and she was renewed with a new sense of entitlement, that the world was hers to take.
The three of them were married in a lavish public ceremony within the month, the twins growing within her evident even through her gown.
Not that she would ever try to hide it.
But she kept the amulet that had once threatened to weigh her down amongst all her other fine jewels, a token and a reminder that nothing would ever stop her, and that her vengeance on those who wronged her would be merciless.