Part X: What It Takes To Set Me Free
Lucius Malfoy prided himself on the long illustrious history of his family. The Malfoy family had acted as personal mages to the famous Howard family since the 1400's. This exalted position gave them untold, and regrettably untapped, power over the entire monarchy in the good old days when the Duke of Norfolk was practically king. Or at least that was the story propagated by every Malfoy for the last eight generations.
To be summarily removed from his ancestral home by an upstart Lord of Darkness who lacked the courtesy to even offer Lucius a spot in the gathering legion was an insult that the Malfoy Patriarch did not take to kindly. Which was why, on this beautiful October morning, he was standing outside the gates of Arundel Castle with a sour expression and a vague plan for vengeance.
The wards on the front gate were still the same ward erected six generations earlier by Augustus Malfoy. Unfortunate, as the wards were customized to the current Master of the House and designed to recognize any unwelcome intruder, even if that intruder was himself a Malfoy. Lucius was fairly sure that one of the many things Potter had forced him to do before vacating the premises was reset the wards to recognize Potter was their master. Damn Draco for being stupid enough to be caught by the bespectacled, Gryffindor miscreant. It was insulting beyond all things to be turned out of ones home because ones own son was too stupid to evade a Gryffindor. Next thing Narcissa would be confessing a love of chintz and then this really would be hell.
With a disgruntled sigh Lucius moved to a well concealed area along the East Wall and began to work at the Wards. Whoever said Slytherins didn't know the meaning of hard work had obviously never met a Slytherin who couldn't find a way around it. Dropping the wards was tricky business and Lucius was at it for hours. The really trick with these wards was to drop one set and a time and erect them again as quickly as possible. If he could shift the wards to recognize himself as well as Potter he should be able to have full access to his kingdom and the boy would be none the wiser.
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Hermione's heart was pounding to loudly she could barely hear the cell door as it screeched open, or the slow, deliberate footsteps echoing in the small room. An inhuman laugh sent a shiver of terror down her spine.
"Oh how the Mighty have fallen." Harry's voice was mocking. "Does it hurt Professor?" Severus made no sound and there was a loud thwack of dragon hide boot connecting with flesh. "What about now?"
Hermione winced. Still Severus remained silent. Hermione wished he would just give in. Scream just once. To let her know he was alive and perhaps to give Harry the satisfaction he seemed willing to beat out of his victim.
"Crucio."
Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly shut and willed herself away; far from the cold dungeon where she sat, powerless to stop the horrors happening in front of her. Slowly, fearfully, she raised her head and took in the dreadful scene. Harry, a wild look of exhilaration on his pale face, stood over Severus' prone form. The black clad man barely twitched as the cruciatus curse continued to course through his body. She couldn't take it for one second more. "Stop it!" she cried, vaulting to her feet. "Stop it Right NOW Harry Potter!" She screamed.
With terrifying steadiness Harry lowered his wand and turned his cold eyes to where Hermione stood. "Impatient for your turn?" he asked in a voice that was completely devoid of emotion. "Don't worry, Hermione, your turn will come. I have high hopes for you."
The way his eyes appraised her, cool and detached, left Hermione throat dry and constricted. She couldn't make a sound.
Harry smirked and, without taking his eyes off her face, flicked his wand sending the Cruciatus curse through the limp body at his feet once again. "Torture is an exquisite thing Hermione, amazing to know the delicate thread separating sanity from madness severed so easily by a mere flash or two of excruciating pain. It's beautiful enough to make a grown man cry." He smiled sweetly.
"You're despicable." Hermione spat.
"Hardly," Harry replied, dropping the curse and walking over to her. "Take a look at your darling Severus," He gestured vaguely towards where Severus lay. "He's a master of torture, not physical torture, but mental and emotional torment beyond anything anyone can imagine and he loves it."
He was so close now that she could smell the sandalwood and bergamot shampoo she had given him in seventh year, when he so desperately wanted to be noticed by a particularly saucy Ravenclaw witch that he was willing to take any help she could give. How had that boy become this monster before her? She hadn't seen it coming, none of them had. "What did we do to you?" she asked him brokenly.
Harry stopped abruptly and dilled her with flat, angry eyes, "You hid the truth. You, the Professors, the illustrious Albus Dumbledore all fools. All so completely wrong about where real power comes from. It's not some mystic amazing thing that you get by being a good little wizard. Power is there for the taking, and I took it."
Hermione stared at him, speechless and suddenly very afraid. They had to get out of here. Severus hadn't made a sound in what felt like hours and Hermione wasn't sure how much longer she could stay sane with Harry's beautiful eyes staring emptily at her out of the evilest face she had ever seen. His once boyish features seemed to contort into a look of pure evil more by the second. Her fingers itched to reach for the hidden wand at her ankle, but she would only get one chance and she couldn't kill her former best friend.
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"Well, well, well, if it isn't Lucy the spineless Slytherin."
The condescending voice brought Lucius to a halt. He recognized it, most likely a former Death Eater, but that knowledge gave him little comfort. The few remaining Death Eaters who had not been captured after the Battle were those who took only well calculated risks, the thinkers and plotters of the Ravenclaw variety. Not the minions he could cow with a withering look or well placed insult.
"Too high and lofty to chat with underlings are we?" The voice took form as Edgar Yaxley stepped from the shadows to block Lucius' path. "Pity, I'm in the mood for a chat."
"I don't waste my time on traitors. Why don't you go find a Gryffindor to bow to?" Lucius spat, attempting to slip around Edgar's bulky frame. The Yaxleys and the Malfoys hadn't associated since the unfortunate event involving Ignatius Malfoy, Henry Yaxley and a very unfortunate herd of sheep. Neither family discussed the matter; it was simply known that the two families would never co-exist peaceably.
Edgar laughed mirthlessly. "Only if you show me how Lucy, your family knows the art of bowing better than most." In a gesture too quick for Lucius to avoid the larger man grasped him firmly by the arm. "In fact, let me introduce you to your new master."
Lucius swore under his breath. This was bad. Potter had been very explicit that he wanted no part of Lucius and if the Malfoy Patriarch showed his face he would find no mercy. 'Well,' his inner Slytherin thought with a mildly triumphant thrill, 'at least I can take Yaxley down with me.' He dragged his feet, practically forcing Yaxley to carry him down three flights of stair to the subterranean dungeons. Malfoy had never used these in his years in the house; they were creepy, dank and impractical. He preferred the torture chambers on the first floor. Trust a Potter to choose the stereotypical, imposing, clammy and frankly disgusting dungeons built by Muggle who were now so past decomposed not even the worms were interested in them.
There was an unnatural chill in the dungeon air. A scream split the stillness and Lucius balked for a moment. "Yes Yaxley, I'm sure your master will be delighted to be interrupted in his work by your introducing an already loyal follower to his attention." He drawled, purposefully wiping his expression blank.
Edgar turned to face his captive, a predatory glint in his hard, dark eyes. "Don't worry your silly little head, Lucy. You won't be interrupting anything." Tightening the already bruising grip on Lucius' arm, Edgar pushed him through the door of the nearest dungeon. "Here we wait." He said with a vicious grin, locking the door securely with a set of vicious wards and settling himself on a conjured chair directly blocking the cell entrance.
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Harry surveyed his prisoners, contempt for their pathetic plight so strong he could taste it. Sniveling weasels fighting to the death for a cause that would never win. A cause so outdated it was more legend than truth. A kinder, better man might have pitied them, but he could not feel anything but bitter contempt.
Hermione's luminous brown eyes were watching his pacing. Hurt and fear radiated from her, giving him a wave of satisfaction. They would be sorry they ever lived before he finished with them. Snape was nearly finished. If he tortured him any more today the game would be over, the man was millimeters from drooling and calling Hermione mummy. It wouldn't do to end his favorite amusement so quickly.
With a flick on his wrist he sent the cruciatus curse through Hermione's unsuspecting form. She dropped to the ground, writhing in agony. Her screams were music to his ears. He held the curse until the screams stopped and then released it. "A little something to remember me by," he said cruelly as he stepped from the call and disappeared down the corridor.
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A/N: First thank you so much for reading! I have been feeling guilty for weeks for not finishing this chapter. Combine bronchitis, a family reunion and a forty hour work week and there is a stunning lack of time for writing. Please drop me a review whether you like it or not!