The darkness of the room was suffocating. The few hours of light that filtered through the rough stone were so few and far between. Hermione had begun to think she might have gone blind. During these small instances of light, she would mark the wall by her head. She knew she was not alone. The familiar filial presence of him on the other side of the room reminded her that she wasn’t alone.
It had been 10 days.
The few scraps of food that were shoved under the door did not come daily. Two buckets of water were provided, one for washing, one for drinking. Thankfully there was a small space to use as a toilet.
During the day he would talk about the differences between their worlds. His innocence in all things muggle at one time had charmed and amused Hermione. Now, it only served to remind her how much she hated this world. Had she never received that fucking letter she would be home with her parents or off snogging some boy at the local park. She would not be sitting on the stone floor of a dilapidated room waiting for her captors to grace her with the smallest scrap of food.
“Maybe we could put up a tent like the one we used with Bill and Fleur’s wedding, what do you think about that?”
She would never marry Ron but she grunted in response to the mad ramblings of a disembodied voice. It was so dark.
It was always so dark.
He could be anyone.
As it did every month the pooling warmth in her belly drove her to find release. She found her sodden sex and worked her small fingers around the hardened nub. Stifling her groans she bit down on her lip hard so as to no arouse the suspicion of the man in the room with her. As much as she tried she couldn’t find release. Her hands that had once given her pleasure were inadequate now. The magic was weak inside her and the muggle way was not working.
She cried herself to sleep.
She could hear the strangled sounds of dry skin and desperation. She listened as the man in the room worked his length, desperately trying to chase that fleeting sensation of release, only to be left bereft when it didn’t come. The sounds of a grown man crying had never sounded so gut-wrenching.
Had he been a wounded animal, she might have put him out of his misery.
Instead she moved over to his side and allowed him to cry himself to sleep on her shoulder.
They had fallen into a routine.
Each would use the facilities at the same time and wash as best they could with the little water provided. Each day by the time the sun had crept over the dank living space. All refuse was gone and the water buckets had been replaced.
No one ever spoke to them.
There were no threats or torture except that of their own silence.
It came a time when she had forgotten what his voice sounded like.
Silence can be its own form of torture.
Again she found she could not sleep. The burning sensation was on her again and she wantonly opened her legs to search for her release. She was once again searching in vain, her situation was not conducive to anything as lush as masturbation but nature heeded its own call. Hermione could feel the tears well in her eyes and began to pull her hand away when she felt it. His strong calloused hands had reached out and softly caressed her mound. The gasp of surprise from her lips was short lived and immediately replaced with a deep moan of pleasure. Skilled and nimble fingers worked over her hardened nub before questing deeper to quench her need. He leisurely worked two fingers into her tight sex while still working her clit expertly. Her hips bucked as he worked her harder, his fingers digging deeper and hitting that spot inside she had been so desperate to reach.
When she came she didn’t call out his name.
It was dark.
He could be anyone.
They never spoke about that night. They simply went about their normal routine. Eating, washing and sitting as they had for the last 70 days. The poor food they received had both of them losing more bulk than they would normally have liked to. Hermione could feel the slight outline of her ribs and she knew that he was experiencing the same. Thirty plus years of good home cooking will leave a once tall and lean man a bit more portly than he would have imagined. His time here had reduced that bulk by half and Hermione worried for the older man’s health.
She could hear him exercising.
“You should conserve your energy. The days between meals are more and more.”
“I have always put off exercising, nothing like trying to make the best of a worse situation,” he answered as he went about his routine.
She began to think he had slowly begun to lose his mind. That was until she began to exercise as well. No use fighting the madness, it beckoned her. It took all her energy to begin to work muscles that had gone so long without use. It did not take that long as Hermione was in far better shape than he was and soon they fell into a new routine. Each day they pushed harder, worked longer. She found the chemical release the exercise provided worked well to lull her to a dreamless sleep.
Just as he had helped her she crawled from her place in the dark room to shadow his struggling hand as it poorly handled his limp shaft. Grabbing a hold of her wrist he stilled her movements. She thought about pulling away but she knew he needed this as much as she needed to do it. He was a relatively young man by any standards and she imagined he must have had a healthy sexual relationship with his wife if his large brood was any indication.
Gently removing his hand, she moved to grasp the heavy member. It did not take long for him to come to life beneath her questing hands. His thick shaft was warm and heavy in her hands. She straddled one of his long legs to reach him better and began to work her hands over the full length of his hardened cock. Without knowing it she began to rock against the hard muscle of his thigh and soon they were both breathless. She gently squeezed his full sack and let her hand grip his shaft a bit harder on the upstroke. Soon he was panting with the need to release. She leaned in and let her tongue taste the rounded head only to have him pull away and come onto his stomach.
Their eyes had adjusted themselves to the scant light that would creep among the shadows and she could see him turn away to cry himself to sleep.
She crawled back to her place in the room and did the same.
“I-I…” she moaned. She couldn’t get another word out.
“I’m so thirsty Hermione, please…”
His strong hands wrapped around her hips he held her down. His tongue lapped at her sex. His face buried deep as he moved his mouth and tongue mimicking his fingers. She felt her walls clench as she shuddered and found her release. Like a parched man denied water for too long he drank at her fountain.
Time slowed as he suckled the last of her release from her core and stilled. The minutes turned into hours and sleep claimed them both.
Their exercise became more rigorous. They worked to prepare for the moment they could find a way to escape from their prison. They discussed muggle methods and found a renewed vigor in their shared plight. There was no longer talk of the burrow and fantastical wedding plans. There was only the here and the now. It was the only way they could survive.
His thick flesh stretched her deliciously. She felt him fill her completely as she rose and lowered herself again to adjust to the position. She rolled her hips slowly and the hiss of pleasure that escaped him released a floodgate of repressed need in her. She stilled to savor the feeling of exquisite fullness. He sat up, his wide back against the rough stone wall, and gripped her hips urging her to move. His fingers bruising her flesh excited her as she began to rub herself wantonly on his flesh. The friction of their bodies and the feel of his hard shaft had her moaning in need. His warm mouth suckled her nipples as he bucked harder into her. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders to keep from being thrown off. Their coupling was desperate, frantic and raw. He pulled her down by her shoulders and fucked her harder. He fucked her past the point of madness, beyond the point of exhaustion.
There were no gentle caresses or perverted affections.
This isn’t something they wanted.
It was something they needed.
The sun streaming in heated their joined bodies as they worked to find their release. Her eyes met his over and over again wanting to memorize each other’s raw bliss as it finally overtook their bodies. Shaking and screaming they called each other’s name into the flesh of the other as they rode the final tremors of their orgasm. It was only then that the older man held her close and gently kissed her parted lips.
It was no longer dark.
He wasn’t just anyone anymore.
Their captor did not expect to be ambushed so easily.
Hermione had called out desperately for someone to help Arthur. She yelled and screamed until finally she could hear the sound of clipped footsteps and the jangling of keys. Hermione could still hear the sound of the man’s neck breaking under the powerful hands of her lover.
Before they reached the safety of the street outside, he pulled her back and looked at her. Strong hands capable of destruction and such passion, gently cupped her face as his lips descended on hers in a gentle but desperate kiss. The kiss spoke of goodbyes and unspoken secrets.
It was only then that they stepped out into the light of day.
The war ended quicker than it had begun. Battles fought by children never end well.
So many lives were lost in the quest to end the darkness.
Their world would never be the same.
She would never be the same.
Her toes burrowed into the soft and wet sand. She loved this time of day at the beach. The sound of seagulls and the waves crashing were all muted by the sweet sounds of laughter from the small bundle of red-headed energy that ran up to her with open arms.
“Hey beautiful,” She had always greeted him the same way.
“Mummy, I want birds.”
“Is that all?” Pulling her wand from her sleeve she conjured up a small stream of colorful birds that began to fly and dance around his smiling face.
“I love you mummy.”
“And I love you baby bear.”