Yes (Remake)

Draco’s thoughts about his next step in humiliating Ginny were suddenly interrupted by the tinkling of the bell above the café door. Hermione Granger walked in — Harry Potter’s loyal friend, the notorious Mudblood from Gryffindor. Despite her origins, she had always possessed a special, almost irritating attractiveness: her thick, dark chestnut hair softly framed her face, and her brown eyes burned with sharp intelligence. If not for her blood and the hated house, Malfoy might even have noticed her in a different context. But right now, his gaze was drawn to her outfit: a wool sweater in a deep Ravenclaw blue that gently outlined her breasts, a dark blue knee-length skirt that emphasized her slender hips, and classic Hogwarts-style shoes. The look was both strict and seductive.

Hermione strode decisively toward his table. Her voice rose almost to a shout, echoing through the café:

“This is low even for you, Malfoy!”

Draco merely smirked lazily, in no hurry to respond. Their mutual dislike had lasted for years, but now, as she stood before him blazing with righteous anger, there was something particularly alluring about her. He reached for the notebook lying on the table.

Without thinking, Hermione lunged forward, trying to snatch the artifact from his hands. She knew perfectly well what power this diary held, but desperation drove her to recklessness.

Draco quickly opened the notebook and wrote a new line in his confident, elegant handwriting:

New rule: Hermione Granger is now the complete **** of Draco Malfoy.

Closing the book, he saw Hermione’s body suddenly freeze. She no longer tried to attack. Instead, the girl furiously slammed a second magical contract onto the table, placing it on top of Ginny’s parchment. Her face burned with even greater fury than the red-haired witch’s.

“You can’t just enslave people like this!” she hissed through gritted teeth. “The Dark Ages ended centuries ago. Release us immediately, Malfoy.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked at her with an arrogant smirk.

“Oh, I think I’ll keep you as a ****, Mudblood. Now stand next to Weasley, take off your panties, and stuff them in your mouth.”

Hermione froze, her face twisting in absolute disgust and helpless rage. Nevertheless, the magic of the contract was already taking effect. The girl stepped back and stood shoulder to shoulder with the naked Ginny. With burning cheeks, she bent down, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and pulled her black thong down her legs. The thin strip of fabric slid along her thighs, completely exposing her lower body.

Draco chuckled quietly, enjoying the sight.

“Oh dear, Mudblood, a thong? Seriously? What would Potter say if he saw you like this? Ask you to show him closer? And Weasley would probably just faint at the sight of your legs.”

“Fuck off!” Hermione snapped, but still, trembling with humiliation, she stuffed her thong into her mouth.

Draco nodded, satisfied with her obedience.

“Keep them in your mouth, Mudblood. And undress completely, just like your friend. Oh, and Weasley,” he shifted his cold gaze to Ginny, “I believe I already ordered you to strip naked?”

Ginny, still silently cursing everything in the world, obediently pulled down the last remnants of her black panties. Hermione, clinging to the remnants of her pride, began undressing with defiant slowness. First she kicked off her shoes and socks, then unbuttoned and slid down her skirt, revealing the smooth skin of her thighs and a neat triangle of dark hair. The sweater followed, flying aside. Underneath was a simple white cotton bra. Hermione reached behind her back, unclasped it, and removed it, exposing her full, firm breasts with dark nipples.

Now both girls stood before him completely naked. Ginny tried to cover herself with her hands, staring at the floor, her body trembling with shame. Hermione, on the other hand, stood straight, chin raised proudly, as if trying to maintain at least the appearance of dignity. Her naked body, still warm from the sweater, was lightly covered in goosebumps in the cool café air.

Draco slowly ran his gaze over them, savoring the contrast: one broken and flushed with humiliation, the other seething with fury yet still **** to obey. The sight was truly intoxicating.

He looked again at the notebook lying in front of him. Before continuing their further humiliation, he needed to secure the artifact. Draco thoughtfully ran his fingers across the cover, already planning new rules that would ensure this incredible power remained his alone.

There was still so much more to come.

---

Draco picked up the worn notebook, and a tense silence hung in the air. His long, pale fingers confidently glided across the pages, writing one rule after another. He inscribed each word with special care, weaving an invisible web of protection around the artifact: the diary now belonged exclusively to him. No one else could touch it without permission, read it, or especially alter its power. The magic of the ancient contract sealed these lines, making them unbreakable.

While he wrote, his gaze kept returning to Hermione Granger. The Mudblood’s face still held that proud, almost defiant expression — the very one that had once irritated him so much at Hogwarts. This girl who had dared to consider herself smarter than pure-bloods, who, thanks to Potter and Dumbledore, had escaped her rightful fate. If not for their interference, Draco would have long ago made sure she never crossed the school’s threshold again. But now everything had changed. Now she stood before him naked, and her pride was nothing but a pathetic illusion, ready to collapse at any moment.

The café patrons continued to watch the scene with disgust. Draco found it irritating. He quickly added another line:

New rule: Negative attitudes toward slavery and domination are not welcome. The idea of punishing slaves evokes approval and pleasure.

In an instant, the atmosphere in the room changed noticeably. Gazes softened, and approving smiles appeared on some patrons’ faces. The dark families present in the café now watched the scene with clear satisfaction.

Satisfied with the result, Draco set the notebook aside and turned back to his new slaves. His gaze settled on Hermione.

“Sit down, Mudblood,” he ordered calmly but authoritatively.

He pulled the nearest chair over and placed it directly opposite Ginny. Hermione reluctantly lowered herself onto the seat, facing her friend. Her legs were slightly spread, her hands resting on her thighs in an attempt to cover her intimate areas. Despite the humiliation, she looked at Draco with an almost bored expression, as if trying to preserve the last remnants of dignity. Her naked body looked seductive in the café’s soft light: full breasts, smooth curve of her waist, flawless skin still slightly flushed with shame.

“There is no other way,” Draco said with a cold smirk. “Press your breasts against the back of the chair. Legs parallel to the front legs. Hands grip the back.”

The magic of the contract washed over Hermione like a wave. The girl resisted with every cell of her body, but her muscles obeyed the command on their own. She leaned forward, pressing her bare breasts against the wooden backrest. Her legs spread wide, exposing everything to view, and her hands gripped the back tightly. The position was extremely humiliating and **** — her ass raised high, her body fully on display.

Draco drew his wand and waved it. A long, black leather whip materialized in the air, gleaming menacingly in the lamplight.

Ginny shook her head, trying to gather the remnants of her courage to protest. Hermione twitched, as if trying to stand.

“Don’t you dare get up!” Draco snapped sharply, his voice cutting like a whip.

Both girls froze. Draco handed the whip to Ginny.

“This Mudblood has mocked me for years,” he said with icy pleasure. “I want you to whip her until she bleeds. Begin.”

Both slaves’ eyes widened in shock. Ginny took the whip with a trembling hand. Hermione, with the black thong still in her mouth, bit down harder on the fabric, bracing for the pain.

The first whistling blow rang out. The leather landed with a sharp crack across Hermione’s bare buttocks. The girl let out a muffled groan through the makeshift gag, her body jerking. The second blow, the third — harder and more precise. Ginny, herself shaking with horror and **** obedience, continued to lash her. Red stripes quickly appeared on the pale skin, then began to darken, and soon the first drop of blood burst forth.

Hermione’s cries, muffled by the thong, filled the café. She writhed on the chair, but the contract’s magic kept her in this humiliating position. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her body broke out in sweat, and her buttocks turned into a bloody mess of red welts.

Draco watched the spectacle with a predatory smile, leaning back in his chair. At one point he almost felt sorry for the stubborn Mudblood — but only for a moment. This punishment was only the beginning. He was already thinking about the next orders and new ways to finally break their pride.

The notebook lay nearby, ready to accept any of his desires. And the two naked, broken witches were completely in his power.