This is just a little idea that came into my head one day. I decided to get it out before it disappeared, as they tend to do. I don't know if this has the potential to become more but I have been letting my imagination wander and the thought of Hermione Granger making an appearance gave me many ideas.
He walked with confidence through the dungeon halls. Here he wasn't a disgrace to his lord. Here he wasn't a failure to his wife. Here he wasn't looked down upon or demeaned. Here he ruled. Here he was God. The whimpers came from the cells along the hall. Each causing him to straighten ever so slightly and filled him with power, superiority and control. Control was something he craved like a starving man now. He had lost all control since the Dark Lord returned. He stopped in front of a cell as he focused on the sight in front of him once more.
Over the years the cells occupants were filled with a varying degree of prisoners. Muggles, mudbloods and the occasional blood traitor. They were of all ages and of both sexes. He mostly kept women though. He could play with them for much longer. His favorite had once been a young girl whom resembled his wife in her youth. The muggle had been only slightly more attractive. She only lasted a year and eight months.
The current occupant held a young girl, almost a woman, with light brown eyes and light blonde hair. She had been beautiful once. Those days were behind her. She recoiled in fear and horror. She knew all too well by now that she could not fight back or even die. She was completely powerless to his whims. She had long ago begun to beg for death. She was no longer fun to play with.
On this particular day Lucius was feeling helpless. His son had failed his mission. Severus had stepped in and completed the task his son was to have carried out. His son was cursed within an inch of his life. His wife tended to their son in her rooms as she and the elves desperately tried to keep him among the living. His wife would not look upon him. This had been her breaking point. Nothing in this world mattered to her more than her son. And that is what Draco was, her son. To Lucius he would always just be his heir. He loved Draco, sure. But he had never been close to the boy. He had always managed to find some way of disappointing him. But to see his heir look away from him, even when doing so caused him more pain was too much.
He decided that he would take it all out on one of his toys. Since this one stopped being fun anymore he decided to make her an example. He dragged her out of her cell by her hair. She tried not to yell but he simply pulled harder. She screamed and he heard the others in their cells scramble as far away from the bars as they could. He threw her at the farthest wall in the center of the chamber. All cells could see what he would do to her. It was as much a torture for her as it was for them.
It was dawn before he was finally done desecrating the girl's body. The whimpers and sobs had stopped hours ago. None of them were asleep though. They knew better than to fall asleep in his presence. He had enjoyed the girl sexually first. Brutality was the only word that could have described what he did to her. After he had sated his most basic desires he began to magically torture her. He relished in the dark magic as he used every dark curse he knew. Some he had to counter quickly less she die too soon. He had enough potions in stock to replenish her filthy blood to prologue her death.
Once he finally noticed her mind had been broken and she was merely screaming from pain did he decide to finish her off. He began to carve her up into pieces. He made sure to cauterize the wounds as he went so she wouldn't die quickly. This was now a show for the rest of the prisoners.
He had disposed of her remains with a lazy flick of his wand. Her transfigured body went to an incinerator he kept for anything he needed to disposed of with fiendfyre.
He allowed the hot water to cascade down his marred back. The Dark Lord liked to leave him a permanent reminder of his punishments. His once beautiful body was scarred in all places. His face was left alone simply because it was what he presented to the world. When the Dark Lord ruled over Britain he did not think that would remain untouched.
He felt better at first after he took out his frustrations on the girl. Now though. Now he felt bereft. He felt hollow. His family was in shambles. His manor overrun by a monster he willingly followed and allowed into their home. He stopped these thoughts and shoved them to the back of his mind. He left the shower and wandlessly dried himself off. He looked at his body in a full length mirror.
He could wash as much as he wished but he could still see and feel the stains left behind. He would never be clean.
He got dressed and left his rooms.
The shift in the family magic told him before his wife's wailing assaulted his ears. Draco had passed. He had held on for a day. Lucius simply walked over to the family tapestry and watched as his son's image become still and darken. His death day etched next to his date of birth. He watched impassively for a moment before he returned to his desk. He had work to do after all.
Let me know what you all think.
This is what I felt Lucius did to cope with his life. He looked so haggard during the last book and movies. I think this is something he did and felt as the war raged on. I have some ideas to continue this but I feel like this is good by itself lest I continue it and ruin it. I am not sure. Either way enjoy this one shot.