Fairy (scarletladyy) wrote in hp_prisonerfest,

Save You, Save Me - A gift for caitriona_3!

Title: Save You, Save Me
Author: flipflop_diva
Recipient: caitriona_3
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 3,099
Rating: R
Warnings: Bondage, inference of dub-con, emotional manipulation
Summary: For five years, Draco Malfoy has kept Hermione Granger hidden away from the Dark Lord’s wrath. In exchange for her life, she’ll do what he says. But Hermione is about to find out that not everything is how it seems.
Author's Notes: Thank you to the mods for hosting this fest, and for being so incredibly patient with me. Caitriona, I tried hard to fill as many of your prompts as I could. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

She blinks furiously against the pale sunlight, its rays almost like poison to her sensitive flesh and orbs. It has been so long since she has stepped outside.

How long has it been?

She glances backward at the front door, purposely left ajar in case she needs to hurry back inside. She knows he's told her she can wander out front, if she stays near, but she's still afraid.

She creeps forward a few more steps. The sun almost feels like it's literally burning her. She can barely remember when she used to be outside all the time. It feels like it was another lifetime ago.

It was another lifetime ago.

She frowns when she sees something protruding from the shrubs. The lawn in front of the manor is usually so ornate, so perfect. This isn't right. There is something wrong.

She glances back over her shoulder one more time, her stomach flipping from nerves. She hates straying away from the comfort of her room.

And if he's right, if they see her …

Tears of terror spring to her eyes just thinking about it and she almost loses her nerve and darts back inside. But something about that object in the shrubs …

Almost like it is calling to that long-lost glimmer of the curious girl she used to be, the object holds her attention like nothing has done in years. She keeps looking backward, but yet she draws closer and closer to it.

Finally, she turns her attention forward.

It's a newspaper. She sees that now.

She lets out the breath she is holding and dislodges it from the shrubs.

See, nothing to be scared of.

And then she freezes.

No, it can't be.

It can't be.

It can't be.

It can't be.

She can't breathe. She can't see. Her vision goes dark. Her body goes numb. Her legs go weak.

She doesn't even realize she's on the ground, curled in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, the newspaper still clutched in her hand.

She can't believe it.

She won't believe it.

She doesn't want to believe it.

But it's all she can see. Big black type, screaming into her brain.

Harry Potter talks about the night that Lord Voldemort died

It can't be true.

It can't be true.

It can't be true.

He's alive?


[Five years earlier]

The first thing she was aware of was a throbbing pain in her arm, as though it were on fire, burning up her forearm, past her elbow, into her shoulder.

A moan escaped her mouth before she could think otherwise.

She struggled to open her eyes; they felt like they were glued shut. The fire in her arm felt like it was moving over her chest and throughout the rest of her body.

She moaned again, almost involuntarily.

She struggled to open her eyes. Her head was pounding. She tried to raise a hand to her head, but her hands wouldn't move. She tried again, but nothing. They were clamped down.

She let out a cry. This time of terror.

She started to strain, against the bind on her wrists, against the fire in her chest, against the darkness over her eyes.

I have to get out of here! I have to get out of here! I have to get out of here!

Out of nowhere, something grabbed her shoulders.

She screamed, desperate and terrified.

Panic was settling in. She couldn't see, she couldn't move. The hands were digging into her flesh.

She screamed again.

Dimly, she felt a prick on her non-burning arm.

She knew no more.


The second time she opened her eyes, she could see.

It was almost pitch black, but she could just make out faint traces of shadows. She was in a bedroom, or so it seemed. Lying on a bed.

She tried to move her hand, but it wouldn't budge.

In the darkness, she strained to see what was going on.

Why couldn't she move?

And then horrific realization overtook her.

Her wrists and her legs were magically bound.

It's why she couldn't move.

She screamed.

Instantly, hands grabbed her shoulders again, but this time she could see a face.

She screamed again, this time in rage, as the face of Draco Malfoy peered down at her.

"LET ME GO!" she screamed, as loud as she could. She forced herself to concentrate on moving, to let her fury drive her will to free herself, but it was no use.

Draco stared down at her, unmoved by her struggle.

"I can't let you go," he said simply.

"Let me go!"

"I can't do that."

"Let me go!" She screamed then, as loud and as long and as piercing as she could.

Draco didn't budge, he just stared down at her with that same impassive look.

"You can scream all you want," he said. "No one is here to hear you."

She wasn't going to take his word for it.

She kept screaming.


Three days after she woke up the second time, he finally told her what happened.

She felt like she had been screaming non-stop for the entire time.

Someone else has to be here, right?

"No one is going to hear you," he said.

She took a break from screaming to glare at him.

"I don't believe you."

"I'm telling you the truth."

She leaned her head back, the only part of her body not magically bound, and shouted, as loud as she could, "HARRY! RON!"

"Dead people can't answer you."

Her heart felt like it dropped to her stomach.


"You heard me."

"You're lying!"

"I'm telling you the truth. I've been telling you the truth the whole time."


No, no, no, no, no.

It couldn't be true.

It couldn't be true.

It couldn't be true.

For three days, Draco had been watching her as though she were merely an interesting object to observe. Right then, for just a second, Draco's eyes softened, a pang of empathy flashing across his face.

And she knew.

A sob shot out of her. A cry stuck in her throat. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

"How?" she managed.

"How do you think?" The empathy was gone. "He lost. We won. It's over."

"No …." She choked on another sob.

"You know it's true," he said. "You know they wouldn't have left you behind if they were still alive."

Her eyes met Draco's. A horrible realization that he was right settled over her, weighing her down more than her magical bonds ever could.

She began to cry.


She cried for the next two days, until she could cry no more. She was out of tears, limp, exhausted. Her magical bonds were still in place. Draco still sat there observing her, like a mouse in a lab study. No one else came or went. It was only the two of them.

"Why don't you just kill me now?" she finally said.

For the second time since she had woken up, she saw a flicker of emotion.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said. "I'm not a killer."

She didn't believe that, but she ignored it.

"So you're just going to keep me here forever then?"

He shrugged. "It's for your own protection."


He blinked. So did she, surprised at the words that came out of her mouth.

"I don't believe you," she added.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. She did remember. It had been coming back slowly ever since she had woken up. Through her tears, she'd had flashes of memory. The Forest of Dean, the Snatchers … Bellatrix Lestrange torturing her mercilessly for what seemed like hours.

She whimpered involuntarily at the memory.

"I thought so," Draco said.

"I don't remember anything after B-B-Bellatrix trying to t-torture …"

She could barely get the words out.

"I would think not," Draco said. "She went after you pretty good. You were unconscious. She called the Dark Lord to come take all three of you, but your friends …"

He said the word as though it were poison.

"They managed to escape. Still haven't figured that one out. My aunt was furious. So was the Dark Lord. There was chaos. I dragged you out of the way. I brought you here."

"Where is here?"

"Somewhere safe."

He didn't look like he was going to tell her anything else. She didn't press him on it.


"Why what?"

"Why did you save me?"

"I told you. I'm not a killer," Draco said. "Besides …" For the first time, he grinned at her, a grin that sent chills up and down her spine. "… there are a lot more things I can do with you alive than dead. Your life for your service. I think that's fair."

She couldn't help it. She scoffed, her eyes narrowing with instant fury.

"You think I'm going to service you? If you ever let me up …"

"What?" he said. "You're going to walk out the door? They will kill you if you do, you stupid girl. The Dark Lord is in power. All Mudbloods have been rounded up and executed. Run away if you want, but you'll just end up dead."

She wanted to argue, but the look in his eye … A feeling of dread washed over her. She closed her eyes against reality.

"You said Harry and Ron escaped," she said meekly.

"They did," Draco said. "They left you behind and escaped."

Her eyes shot open. "They wouldn't have left me behind! You said so yourself!"

"Oh, they were planning to come back for you. But the Dark Lord, He has powers. He went after them. Your friends didn't stand a chance."

He paused, then smiled again, that horrible twisted smile.

"But you have one. Once you prove to me you can be trusted."


She would be lying if she didn't admit she thought about trying to escape just so Draco would catch her and end it all. Her two best friends in the entire world were dead. The wizarding world was in shambles. A horrible evil wizard was ruling over everyone, terrorizing them all.

Some nights, as she lay there, magically bound to her bed, death didn't seem half bad.

But Hermione Granger was not a quitter. And she knew Ron and Harry wouldn't have wanted that. They would have wanted her to fight.

So she agreed to play by the rules.

It took awhile. Draco didn't unbind her from her magical shackles for weeks and only then for a few hours at a time. He never let her out of his sight during those times either, making sure she didn't do anything to mar his trust in her.

She never did.

She never went outside, sticking to the house. She didn't have very much energy after her ordeal anyway. She did everything Draco asked of her — cleaned what he asked her to clean, cooked meals when he asked her to cook.

There was a library in the house, a huge, dust-covered library that covered three gigantic walls. She stayed in there most of the time, exploring the books, dusting them off, going through them.

She was quiet and meek, and when he ordered her back to her bed to be bound again, she never disobeyed.

After awhile, it stopped being so hard.

The only hard times were at night. The nightmares came frequently. She was back there in Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix carving into her skin, her own screams haunting her ears.

She would wake in a cold sweat, screaming in terror, unable to move.

For a time, Draco did nothing. Until one night, when her screams wouldn't subside, and he sat beside her and stroked her hair.

She didn't understand why he did it, but as she fell back into an exhausted sleep, she was glad he did.

The other part was the part she was worried about. She knew it was coming, and the thought made her nauseous. But if it meant staying alive, she was ready.

It began about nine months after she woke up. In truth, she had expected it much earlier.

She was taking a bath, resting her head against the edge of the tub, when she heard a pop. She opened her eyes to see Draco perched at the other end.

"Stand up," he ordered.

She did as she was told, trying to keep her face devoid of all emotion. She saw his eyes glisten as he looked her up and down, roaming over all parts of her nude body.

She felt her cheeks grow warm as he stepped closer to her. Her body was trembling. She thought she might pass out.

Suddenly he reached out, his fingers going between her legs, rubbing her roughly.

She yelped.

"I take it you've never done this before," he said, an edge to his voice.

"N-n-no." She stumbled over her words, feeling her body grow warmer, shame coloring her flesh. Draco's fingers rubbed against her harder, and she struggled to keep her tears in check.

He removed his hand from between her legs then, palmed her breast instead.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

To her surprise, he actually was. He bent her over the bed and entered her from behind. But he went slow, and it didn't hurt nearly as much as she feared, and for a few moments, she even found herself enjoying it.

"It's not so bad, is it?" he asked her that night, the first night he didn't magically bind her to her bed. She knew he was referring to the sex, but he could very well have been referencing their whole relationship.

"No," she said. "It's not."


Time went on. Days passed, then months, then years. Sometimes it was hard to remember what life was like before Draco, as though her memories from those years were fading.

Sometimes at night, she laid in bed and tried to remember Ron and Harry's faces, but as the months passed, their features grew less and less distinct until she had only the slightest recollection of how they had once appeared.

Draco was good to her. He let her spend her days in the library reading whatever she wanted. She spent her nights with him, curled up in his arms.

"Thank you," she whispered to him one night. They had just finished and she was lying next to him. The only sound she could hear was the mixed sound of their breathing.

"For what?"

"For saving me from the Dark Lord."

Draco didn't reply. He just leaned over and kissed her.

Hermione found herself wondering if that was what love felt like.

She wasn't sure, but she had a feeling she was happy.


Harry Potter talks about the night that Lord Voldemort died

She feels like she has been punched in the stomach. She can't breathe, she can't focus. Memories of two people she thought she had forgotten are rushing through her head like a freight train.

Somehow, she finds the strength to push herself off the ground.

Tears are blinding her as she stumbles back inside, not even bothering to shut the door behind her.

She finds him in the study, and she can't help herself. She grabs his wand, sitting there on the edge of his desk, and lunges for him.

"Bloody hell!" he yells as she knocks him backward.

She's crying, pointing the wand at his heart.

"How could you?" she screams. "How could you?"

He tries to push her off, but for once, she is stronger. She holds him down, fury taking over her body. She shoves the newspaper at him.

"You told me they were dead!"

She sees his eyes widen and she chokes on a sob. She tosses the wand aside and begins to hit him instead, her blows just bouncing off as she cries.

"You told me they were dead! You said He killed them! You said He won! You lied to me. You lied to me for years. You lied to me."

She's sobbing ferociously by now, understanding almost knocking her over.

It was all just a sick plan. A very sick plan. To keep her for his own. To use her. To own her.

She is his prisoner.

"I am not anyone's prisoner!" she half-sobs, half-shrieks as she continues to try and hit him. She feels herself growing weak and she collapses on top of him, her mind reeling.

She can't comprehend this. It's all too much.

From underneath her, he finally speaks.

"You are free to leave."


She doesn't bother to pack a suitcase. There is nothing here she wants to take with her anyway.

She practically flies to the door.

It is still flung open from how she left it.

Outside, the sun is high in the sky, but there is no sound other than her sobs. She can't see past the shrubs to the front gate, but she knows it is out there somewhere.

The whole world is out there.

A world she hasn't seen in five years.

A world that is completely different from the picture she has been seeing in her head.

She pauses at the doorway, suddenly unsure.

She hears his footsteps behind her.

"Hermione," he says.

She doesn't want to, but she turns around, meets his eyes.

He waves the newspaper at her. "It's a lie," he says. "It's not true. Everything I told you is true. Believe me."

She stares at him, and for a second, she wavers.

This is Draco Malfoy standing in front of her, the boy who would lie about anything and everything. She looks closer at him, at the lines of his face. He has changed in five years.

She has changed in five years, too.

She turns to look out the front door, where she can't see past the shrubs. Maybe the friends she used to have are out there somewhere. She looks backward then, over her shoulder at the man who has been making her happy.

She has been happy, right?

"It's a lie?" she says.

"It's a lie," he confirms.

She sucks in a mouthful of air.

"It's a lie," she repeats. She reaches out and puts her hand on the doorknob, weighing her decision.

"It's a lie," she decides, and she shuts the door, closing her inside forever.
Tags: !fic, character: draco, character: hermione, exchange: 2013, pairing: draco/hermione, type: het
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