Thank you to Luminous Crystal for encouraging me to pull this out of my very old draft pile, and for also appreciating dark Lucius!
A one-shot for now, but I suppose I could be persuaded to add more if it got enough reviews...
"Think, Miss Granger," he purred into her ear, "of all the things I can make you feel."
She blanched and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut so that she wouldn't have to see him anymore. Lucius only moved closer when she did so, and she felt his gloved hand come to rest at her throat.
"Now, now. You're spoiling all the fun."
"Leave me alone, pervert," she said, trying to sound a lot stronger than she felt.
"This is my house," he said, and she heard his tone grow sharper. "And you are my prisoner, so we will play by my rules." He turned her face to his with an iron grip on her cheeks, but still she kept her eyes closed.
"I want you to call me something, Miss Granger. Mudblood, I should say. I want you to call me Master."
"Never."
"Always. You're Mudblood and I am Master."
"No."
"Crucio."
She screamed and screamed for what seemed like hours until he released her from the spell, and when he did she slumped down against the wall where he held her. If it hadn't been for his grip she would have hit the floor.
"Say it."
"Master."
"Better. Much better. Keep that in mind for the next time I come."
And with that he was gone, vanishing into the corridor and locking the door behind him.
The fine layer of sweat on her brow chilled her, and she wished for a blanket in the dark cell.
Hermione believed two days to have passed when he returned, but she couldn't know for sure. She couldn't know anything for sure. When Lucius came she cowered, just like she had always said she never would.
"Mudblood," he said coolly, walking to her and pulling her hands away from her face with his cane.
"M…Master," she stuttered. "Please…don't."
"Don't what? What sort of assumptions are you making, girl?" He dropped a woolen blanket on the floor; clearly his only object had been to bring it to her.
She was silent.
"Yes, that's what I thought. Well, I hadn't come down here to do anything, but I am here to do something now. On your knees."
"But…"
"Knees," he commanded, cutting her off.
The floor hurt her bruised joints and the thought of things to come hurt her bruised mind.
"Don't make me be explicit, Mudblood. Just do it."
He dug the head of his cane into her shoulder blade and pulled her close, and she reached out to his zipper with shaking hands.
What would they say? she wondered as she slid his pants down to his ankles and felt the smallest tingle of delight far, far away from her battered brain.
"Let me come to bed with you," she pleaded, pulling the blanket from the corner around her naked body. He was buttoning his shirt back up, getting ready to leave her yet again.
"What did you forget, Mudblood?" he cautioned.
"Master," she replied, and she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Lucius Malfoy was her master. She didn't know what day it was, or what time, or how the war was going at all, but she knew that Lucius Malfoy was her master, and that was all that mattered.
"Good. Anyway, it's 2 o' clock in the afternoon upstairs and I have people to see, so you will be staying here. What makes you think I would take you there in the first place?"
"I thought... maybe you liked having me near."
"Look at yourself. Really look. You're a mess, and you're a Mudblood, and I have a wife. You'll be staying in this cell, on the floor, where you belong, or so help me God."
"Master, when you aren't here, I miss you."
"Too damn bad."
"When I came here, you said you could make me feel things, exquisite things. You swore. And now you won't let me leave this hell hole."
Her indignation earned her a slap across the face, but when she turned back to him he was smiling.
"The word 'exquisite' is your own, Mudblood."
At the beginning, Hermione would think about how she came to be here, and where Harry and Ron were now, and if they were succeeding. One misstep on her part had left her behind at Malfoy Manor when Dobby had taken the others away, and no one ever came back for her. In her head, the moment played again and again, and she prayed and prayed to have a redo. She could still remember the stunned silence that took over the room as she fell back hard from the whirlpool of light.
"Looks they forget you, didn't they little Mudblood?" Bellatrix had finally cooed as Hermione lay there, frantically thinking of what to do next. "To the dungeons with you, I think." And she had gestured at Lucius, who came immediately forward and lifted Hermione off the floor.
"I'll take care of her, Bella," he had said, and then he had taken her to her new home in dungeons and tortured her until she called him Master.
She didn't think about the redo anymore.
"So this is our Mudblood," Narcissa said, observing Hermione from outside the bars of her cell. "Sad. She's actually quite pretty up close."
"Is she?"
They were looking at her, pressed up against the back wall of the cell wrapped in her blanket, as if she were a thing in a zoo. She looked back, and noticed that Narcissa seemed to be scanning every inch of her body. A part of her, the part of herself that she hated but that was always growing stronger, felt sick looking at him standing next to his actual wife, the wife who knew nothing of their games. And she would never know, because no matter how tenderly Lucius whispered Mudblood after he took her there on the stone floor, he didn't want her in his proper, upstairs life.
"You don't…you don't play with her, do you Lucius?" Narcissa's posh voice faltered slightly, and Hermione could sense tension flickering between the two of them. "She looks rather rough."
"Darling, you know that I only do what is necessary to get information from her. How could I ever use something like that?" He sent a dismissive wave Hermione's way. Narcissa's lips curled, reassured
A surge of bravery came over Hermione, maybe driven on by spite, or maybe jealously, and she knew what she was going to do.
She didn't think for a second about the consequences it would bear.
"He does play with me!" she shrieked out, crawling forward towards them, and Narcissa's expression changed. "He touches me, and he's raped me, and –"
"Enough!" Lucius shouted, and with a bang Hermione flew against the back wall of the cell. She was in trouble, but was pleased to see the damage was done.
Narcissa turned to her husband, sending a nervous glance back at Hermione, who looked to have been knocked half unconcious.
"Touch her, Lucius? A Mudblood? And not to mention – " But as her voice rose he grabbed her elbow, and led her back towards the stairs.
"We'll discuss this upstairs, Cissy."
She heard raised voice and some scuffling above her for quite some time, and then there was silence, followed by the tapping of shoes coming back down the dungeon stairs. She thought briefly about what would become of her now, but soon pushed the thought away. She had learned quickly after arriving at the Manor that wondering about her fate served no purpose.
Lucius appeared on the other side of the bars, disheveled. A bruise was forming on his cheek. She was scared again, bravery of the moment gone, and clutched her blanket to her chest.
"So," he began, and at the calm of his voice she closed her eyes. He was far beyond any point she had driven him to before. "Your words get you into trouble, don't they Mudblood?" All she could do was sit completely still, and wish she could crawl directly into the wall.
"Answer me!" he demanded, and her eyes flew open again. He looked like a man who would do anything.
"Yes, Master." She was ashamed; she had hurt him.
"Yes, they do," he agreed, and then he pointed his wand at her. Although she didn't hear exactly what he muttered under his breath, she felt something like searing hot liquid run down her throat. She tried to scream, and no sound came out.
"Yes," he continued, "so you won't be needing to speak anymore. Think of it as a favor from me to you, to keep you out of trouble. I don't see you needing your powers of speech for at least a month, not until Severus has finished with our new batch of Veritaserum." Again she opened her mouth to reply, to yell, to cry, anything, but she could only gasp. She was on her knees now, one hand braced on the floor, the other at her throat. He opened the door and came into the cell with her.
He kicked her, and then kicked her again, until she lay on her back, powerless.
"Smile, Mudblood," he said. "The worst is yet to come."