The Dark Lord's Playbook of Nefarious Misdeeds

Extra Ordinary Death Threats

A/N BEWARE!!!! I am placing a trigger warning for this chapter. If you feel that you cannot read an attempted rape scene then skip this chapter you won't miss much. I purposely wrote it this way in two parts, so people could jump to the next chapter if they are not comfortable with the content.

EXTRA ORDINARY DEATH THREATS

Hermione POV

The Brothel

On Druary Lane

"'Ere pretty pretty"

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So, this was it? How I was most likely to get raped and murdered in a slum's brothel? After everything I have been through this is how my story ends?

I could feel the magic beneath my skin thrashing around violently but restricted from being unleashed it was uncomfortable. My mind thinks about the time turner fleetingly but now is not the time. I certainly was going to go down fighting. I didn't survive Bellatrix's' torture only to die at the hands of a disgruntled Micah, because I didn't find his penis waving favourable. He must have a really fragile ego.

I scampered up the cot, so I was seated. I was very aware that I was cornered. He was blocking any hope of an exit I had but left it open. That wasn't as comforting as it may seem, I got the feeling screaming didn't necessarily help in these situations, people just turned a blind eye, or they thought it was a rape fantasy. I shivered.

I would not cry; I would not give him the satisfaction. So, I glared as fiercely as I could, I'm sure Voldemort would have been proud of that look. It was one of his signature expressions after all.

"So feisty", he was at the edge of the bed now and my heart was pounding in my ears. Other than Draco in third year I have never punched anyone else so I knew it would hurt to assault a grown man. The whiskey he had drunk was seeping through his pores and the smell was overpowering. The sickeningly sweet tang it had, made my stomach roll.

I waited until he got close enough that a swing of my fist would connect with his face. Part of me thought that this was a bad idea, but I couldn't see any other way around it. Even in the badly lit room I managed to hit my target. He stumbled back probably due to shock rather than the force of my punch, but it still would have hurt. While he was distracted, I raised my foot and kicked out getting him in the abdomen, I went to do it again, but he moved quicker than I thought he would in his drunken state and grabbed my right ankle. I violently kicked out with my left, cracking him in the forearm holding my ankle but he wouldn't let go. I tried again and again, but he just held on tighter. In my desperate state I just started kicking wherever I could get contact. He managed to get my other leg after I got a direct hit on his sternum. Tears started to silently fall as he dragged me down the bed, my skirts pushing up against the friction of the sheet, exposing my naked thighs to his appraisal. The hungry look in his eyes made bile burn the back of my throat.

"Well look at that it's better than what I imagined" he slid a heavily calloused hand up my thigh, I squirmed and wiggled trying to shake his hand off but he dug his fingertips into the muscle and I stopped because fuck it hurt. I let out a whimper and he laughed. I will definitely have bruises to show for this. I needed to distract him from touching me further so I did what I could with my hands. My right still hurt badly from punching him earlier, but I figured slapping and scratching could do just as well.

"STOP!" He bellowed. I did so out of instinct, the yell scared me. Micah brought his other hand down that didn't have my thigh in a vice grip across my face. My head snapped to the side, the loud crack of skin on skin echoed in the room. I felt blood pool in my mouth; I felt my bottom lip split from the impact. He did it again. Blood and saliva dribbled down my chin as I began to realise the hopelessness of my predicament. I couldn't fight off this man, I was much smaller and weighed a lot less than he did.