Writer : Ravin (/FTHowler)
LAST UPDATED: September 21st 2014
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the character used here.. creds go Disney for the song and J. K. Rolling, for Harry Potter.
Song(From FeatherTrinity Challenge): Hellfire ~ Hunchback of Notre Dame
Time/Book: About the time Draco fails to kill Dumbledore in The Half Blood Prince.
(Song Given By: Evangeline)(Song Use: Feeling and the lyrics)
Notes: Alrighty, in my story Hermione was put in Slytherin, and she's grown up with Snape as a ''father" figure in her life. At this time, Snape has taken Hermione and hid her at the Malfoy Manner. She's also a bit bipolar...
Lucius's sharp silver eyes searched the dark room, only to land on the girl he'd known would be somewhere hidden within, even if he willed she wouldn't be. He had momentarily hoped that Snape had found another place to hide her in these hours of chaos. Or that the girl may have gone so far as to demand she travel with Snape on his journey to see the Dark Lord, but Of course, there she was. Sitting by one of the long windows, head held high as she watched the rain looking defiant of it. She was a young thing, strong and even stronger willed, but smart, an achiever, and Slytherin to the core. Lucius felt a sick envy at the thought of her being better then his son. Yes, he was jealous of Snape's apprentice, he turned that fact, in Slytherin fashion, around to use it against the girl. She might have been better then Draco at potions, some spells, and in wicked character, but she was not a Malfroy. Even worse she was Muggle raised, even if she was so vain as to act pureblooded.
He paused in his negative thoughts, his eyes shifting to look back at her where she sat on the window ledge, her leather boots up on the railing, much to his disapproval. With lingering footsteps he approached her, his cane gripped in hand. Her head turned, her pale cheeks stern with the look of a pureblood, making his disapproval deeper still, as the echo of his footsteps bounced off the high ceiling. The closer he got the more he disliked her attitude, and the more he drank it in like a bittersweet mockery. He noticed the long black witches cloak wrapped oh so tightly around her waist, but slipping off her shoulders revealing the muggle tank top she wore, its cloth splattered with mud and rain; like the metaphor of her faux manner. Though her usually curled hair caught his eye distracting him from her lies. It lay in an uncharacteristic fashion, relaxed and dark from the rain, its coffee color shining even in the dim light from the storm filled eve.
As if sensing the conflict in his mind, she turned to look at him, her golden eyes locking with his, the simple gaze explaining how much she despised him and her situation. Yes, her trusted teacher, Snape, had brought her here, trading her for Draco, but she still despised that he had tried to keep her safe, and despised even more that he had in doing so taken her childhood enemy, in her place. Even worse he had, by taking Draco back to Hogwarts, taken him the one place she wanted to go more than anything. Snape's persistence and fussing over her to keep her safe, was the only thing that had lead her to stay at the summerhouse Manor of the Malfoy's. Even then it was obviouse to Lucious as he watched her unblinking eyes, that she thought herself better than the pureblood's of the household.
Lucius at first hadn't minded her staying in the house, she was rarely seen anywhere but dinner, and heard even less. As it was Snape would be back anyday to collect the muggleborn. Only over time he had come to loathe her for her scornful attitude, and perfectionist ways. How she wrote with such delicate strokes and how her intelligent eyes looked upon him like she was outwitting him in every way... He almost startled as she turned back to the window looking out across the murky lawn passed, the dark sheets of rain, and to the church. Its appearence more like that of a gothic castle, with its romantic bell towers and beyond it the rustic city of Paris.
He followed her gaze, stepping ever closer to her so that he was close enough to lay a hand upon her shoulder if he so wished. Only he stood still, unmoving as his ears caught through the sound of rain the distant chants of the monks coming from the bell tower...
Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti (I confess to God almighty)
Beatae Mariae semper Virgini (To blessed Mary ever Virgin)
Beato Michaeli archangelo (To the blessed archangel Michael)
Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis (To the holy apostles, to all the saints)
Et tibit Pater (And to you, Father)
Quia peccavi nimis (That I have sinned)
Cogitatione (In thought)
Verbo et opere (In word and deed)
There soft song made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, he was used to there quiet banter having stayed in this Manor many times before, but the eerie quiet of the rain, of the crackling halls fire, and the still girl, in front of him, sitting like beautiful stone gargoyle, made the words slip over his heart like a cold wind.
"Belle de Nuit". He almost jumped as she spoke for the first time since he came into the great hall, and He stared unblinking at her, one thin eyebrow slowly rising as he remembered that she was indeed just a girl.
"You speak French?" he hid all surprise from his voice, replacing it with his usual snark. He had no reason for the tearing palpitations that ran through his chest, she was just a girl. And as she replied, nodding as she did, he confirmed it by the youngness in her words.
"A little, I think it to be a vraiment magnifique language". He kept his lips peirced, cane twirling in hand as he waited for her to say more, but she held her tongue, returning to her silent self.
"I did not think of you as a bluestocking," he mused in his most unenchanted tone, even though it was a lie and he hoped the jab at her pride would entice her to do as she often did, and defy him. It worked, and she turned to face him, and he could see the deliberate change in her eyes, that mood swing that made her a person to be feared. Someone that even Slytherins strayed away from. And it made him smirk coldly at her, a wickedly satisfied feeling filling his prideful chest.
"More of a cockishwench? I see the way you think I am a stuck up slab that Snape has spoiled." Her sharp tongue spoke his true thoughts, and she knew it by the confidence in her rising tone. She was a viper with him when she knew the truth, and it caused him to smirk. Playing as if he thought her childish by the way of the look upon his face. From what Draco had told Lucius, even though it was only little tidbits of informations, and only after being forced out of his son, the girl was a deceitful creature who bossed around Draco and his friends by way of knowing them and knowing more than them. But then she turned around to be great friends with others that she deemed "better", or more worthy then Draco and his friends. As for Snape, he felt there was something more there, it twisted him darkly to think of what the possibilities might be, and worst of all when he looked at her in her defying ways couldn't tell if he was jealous or appalled by the thought.
His upper lip curled back as he thought, but with practiced calm and the natural authority of one who believes he is to be respected, he replied, "You are of a smart breeding madame', do not defile your reputation by using ill words against me. I will not-"
She cut him off crudely. "-I know all about you, I do not fear what you would say to others, you are a shade in my eyes. I do not see a need to respect you as I do my fath-Snape." Her eyes clouded over, and Lucius felt like he had been slapped with the realization of what she had almost said.
"Father?" he hissed, staring hard at her, yes it made sense, her good luck with the teacher, skill with potions, also the attachment to the man that he had always despised, but secretly envied. Oh now he had the upperhand, and she knew it well. He chuckled, the sudden insight to her "pureblooded" heritage and hidden parents making sense in his mind. Yes, she was indeed Snape's daughter. Had he really been so blind as to not see it? Hiding her away for safe keeping? Yes, so Snape had, had another love besides Lilly. Or had he?
He watched her for a moment noting the reddish tinge to her hair, her olive white complexion, and gold eyes, could it be? Oh, the revenge he could play against Snape. They had been in the Slytherin house together, despised and hated each other for childish reasons, Snape a common soul, and he, Lucius, a pureblood of grand nature, looks and family wealth. Though these things were made worse by Snape's halfblood label. After the rivals of their youth, Snape had had one last chance to beat Lucius by being the one chosen as Potions Master. Even though Snape had cared more for the position of Dark Arts teacher. To make matters worse, Lucius had not been picked for anything, and despite their age, childhood hate had blossomed and continued until they had both joined "he who shall not be named" in the first war. Snape's luck had even been changed then, and the halfblood had been favorited. But, Snape had also been forced to hide his hate for Lucius as had Lucius internalized his anger towards Snape. They had worked together, there hidden loathing ever strengthening within that time. Could Lucius get revenge through this girl? Snape's most prized, and praised student? She stood, removing herself from the window sill, and breaking him free of his thoughts.
"Excuse me, I am going to retire for the night." She began to walk past him in the direction of the double doors by the fireplace, her face hidden from his view by her curly hair. Knowing he was about to lose his chance, he turned on his heel grabbing for her as she went buy, getting a firm grip on her wrist.
"Who is your mother", he demanded. Making it quite clear he would not let her go until he knew the answer. She stood still, her only movement as she thought, was her fist balling in his grip, and slowly she turned her chin defiantly to glare at him.
"You think you are Pure compared to the common, you believe them to be vulgar, weak, licentious because of their bloodline, and all should be punished because of it?" Surprising him by her passionate town. Her voice breaking on several syllables, though it reminded him more of a caged lion then a crying girl. He recoiled at her words, anger burning in his eyes, but she continued unafraid.
"You know nothing of what i believe, now tell me who your mother is!" he had never been so defied in his own house. "I am not to blame for what should never have had happened in the first place! No witch or wizard should ever have been born that wasn't of pureblood. Common folk have nothing to do with it. Muggles are putrid creatures, and one day they will no longer be needed, but until then we need to keep our bloodlines pure." He felt the words he had once told Draco flood from his mouth and he watched her vixen like mouth fall open in shock and her eyes widen with alarm.
"Kyrie Eleison," she spat, pulling away from him with with surprising force.
"Severus is different from you! He is kind and brave, and loyal! He will come back for me and you will pay. You will pay with Hells fire!" She began to walk again, towards the door, the flames from the fireplace, making shadows lap at her pale skin and the wetness of hair, making it more red than ever. He was too angry not to follow. She was a Slytherin and Snape was part of the Dark Lords army. She was not only disrespecting Snape's wills, but Lucius' and in his own household. For once he felt the distrust of Snape slip away as the hatred of this defiant girl came to a head, and he wanted not only to defend his own, but Snape.
He knew, as he began to follow her,heavy footfalls after her own, that if he made a move for his wand, or if he eccio'd it to him, she would curse him with her own, which she had drawn as soon as he had his own. So he once again grabbed her wrist, jerking her so she looked him in the eyes. He had not expected this outburst from her when he had come to her this evening. He had only thought to see what she was up too, or perhaps to ask if she had heard from Snape. But now with rage filling him, and fire burning in every vane, he came to the realization that he did not know why he had come to see her. He could guess, but the guess was so frightening he pushed it away as grabbed her jaw and forced her to look him fully in the face.
"I will not have such talk from you ever again! As long as you are taking sanctuary in my house, there will be respect, and compliance from you." his teeth gnashed with each word and he stared down into her face, feeling like she was pulling the control from his bones. His thumb sliding over her cheek as he contemplated why he would even let her live if she felt so strongly that purebloods were nothing more than any other wizards. It was the argument that he had despised Snape for until they were older and Snape came to follow the Dark Lord. Only now hearing it from this girl, his fingers twitched and he realized her, disgusted with himself. He did not have anymore to say to her.
Only she stood, continually proud, though one hand raised to her jaw where he had surely bruised her.
"I don't know why God made devils like you to be stronger than the Muggle kind. Wizards are supposed to be good and protect the common people from things they do not understand." She backed away, this time not turning her back to him, the light from the fire hiding her face from view, and when she reached the doors frame she stopped,. "You will be mine, You will burn by my hand, you and you're Mollisher, and your heir, and your whole bastard pureblooded family will fall to me..." she backed into the shadows, pulled her cloak tight around her, and disappeared. Leaving him with her words ringing in his ears, and the feeling of her skin burning on the hand that had touched her.
Hope you liked it! Please critique or help with grammar! I really need it! (as Snape would say "Obviously")
Also if you were wondering what they were saying half the time here yah go =)
Bluestocking = Regency Era slang for "an educated, intellectual woman."
Vraiment magnifique = French for "very magnificent!"
Cockishwench = Victorian era, slang for a "very stubborn/headstrong woman"
Belle de Nuit = French for "Beauty of the Night."
Mollisher = Victorian and Regency Era slang for, "a woman, often a villain's mistress."
Kyrie Eleison = French for ~"Lord have mercy"
Shade = Regency Era slang for a person of questionable moral character, usually referring to men, not women.
It should be noted that this story was updated on September 21st 2014.
~May Your Dreams Forever Be Your Reality~ Ravin/FTHowler
