So Bellatrix had lied, Hermione thought, stricken with mixed-feelings about seeing her beloved Ginny sprawled at Lucius Malfoy's feet. Why had Bellatrix lied? Oh, right, because she was an evil bitch. Hermione felt slight pleasure in terming her existence as a "was", as she corrected herself. She turned her attention back to the scene playing out in front of her, stopped dissociating, and focused on the red hair and pale skin that was shaking on the floor before the blonde wizard who could only be kin to the Devil.
"Get up." Lucius muttered, nudging Ginny's limp frame with a booted foot.
"Get up!" He said, slightly more shrilly. At this, Ginny began to pull herself together, and Hermione could almost see her gathering her limbs in the order they needed to be in, and rising to her feet. She swayed where she stood, and Lucius thrust out a hand to her shoulder to steady her on her feet.
Ginny kept her head down, hair falling in her face as she stared, apparently, at the floor. It took Hermione a moment to notice what exactly Ginny stared at. A series of three narrow cracks graced the floor on a square-like shape, with a small ridge in the rock the floor was comprised of making a handle. Hermione recognized such a contraption from her first year at Hogwarts, only eight years before. A trapdoor. Only, instead of being guarded by Fluffy, it was guarded by a whole different type of Hellbeast.
Lucius eyeballed Ginny's frail body, which had decreased greatly in size, not that it had had much size to lose. Her dress hung loosely from her frame, and as far as dresses go, it was fairly tattered. It looked as if it had been worn by several girls ahead of her, and as Hermione noticed the cuffs around her wrists, and chains around her ankles, she realized that Ginny had been enslaved by them, in her time as ransom for Hermione's own capture. But what kind of slavery? Hermione barely wanted to know.
Though she'd find out soon enough.
Lucius cast off his robes, tossing the black velvet carelessly, and magically, to a hook that hung on the wall. Beneath them, he wore a fine linen shirt, almost Renaissance in design, and tight black leather pants. His blonde hair cascaded down his back in a river of yellow, and just lightly fingered the waistband of the pants that moved and looked like a fluid second skin on his legs and ass. Hermione suppressed the feelings that rose in her once more, and tried to look away. However, she found herself unable to as he began to unbutton the shirt and soon it, too, joined the robes on the hook on the wall. His bare chest shone white in the candlelight, perfectly sculpted and firm. His stomach flat, divided into six equal parts, his chest perfect, with little fat lingering anywhere on his frame. Like father, like son, Hermione thought, unable to stop herself in time to realize how she was ogling the man who was more than certainly about to abuse her girlfriend.
She was right in her final assumption. Hermione saw Ginny shudder and shake as Lucius stared down at her, not needing to look at himself to undo any part of his ensemble. Stripping himself of the leather pants, he wore nothing underneath. Hermione closed her eyes as she noticed how hard, how strong he was, greater than any she'd ever seen, and it was all she could do to keep quiet. She longed to rise to her feet, ride in like a white knight and rescue Ginny, but she knew that doing so would certainly bring about the end of both girls. She closed her eyes as Ginny's smock-like dress, which Hermione just then realized was little more than a large pillowcase, fell to the floor, revealing her body, covered in whip marks and other assorted wounds. A massive bruise, shaped like a large mouth, stained the inside of her left thigh, and the skin in that area was reddish in colour, as if bloodstained, almost like someone had bitten down and shaken their head while gripping her flesh in their teeth. Hermione felt hot tears stream down her face as she watched Ginny's body quivering at Lucius' every touch, her breasts pale, bruised, and shrunken, her ribs obscenely protruding through the luminously white flesh that covered them. Hermione closed her eyes as she saw Lucius lay Ginny down on the floor, covering her with himself, and her own gasp was covered by a scream torn free, painfully, from Ginny's hoarse throat. Hermione felt herself beginning to fade away, shrinking like Alice in the rabbit-hole from reality, as she remembered...
Chained to the wall, she couldn't move as the blood trickled down her arms, leaking from cut wrists. Malfoy stood before her, his clothes forgotten in a pile across the room, himself hard and long, thick and ready as she tried her hardest to stay as far away from him as possible. A valiant effort, but a difficult one when chained to a solid rock wall. As she struggled, Malfoy surprised her by unchaining her legs, and then her wrists, but her heart fell when she found that she was little able to move. Her muscles had temporarily stiffened, and motion was nearly impossible, except for pathetic clutches of her bloodied fingers, which she scraped along Malfoy's arms, and when he lay her down and lay across her, his back. She screamed as loud as she ever had when he forced himself inside her with a sickening squelch, and screamed again as he withdrew, tinted with pink, a colour that she was certain would darken as long as he kept this up...
Hermione had dissociated, and she didn't know for how long. Her breath was heavy with the pain the memory recalled, and she berated herself for having gone away in such a manner.
Before her, the scene that was to be had played out. Lucius had come and gone, so to speak, and Ginny lay on the floor, dress revealing her indecently and eyes closed, apparently unconscious. Hermione shirked the Invisibility Cloak, and, pulling up her hood, slid across the stone floor on her hands and knees. If any time would be a bad time for someone else to come into the room, this was it.
She bent her head over the crumpled form of Ginny, eyeing her up and down, examining her wounds. The red stains between her thighs were unmistakable, and made the pain between Hermione's own legs surge once more in empathy. Besides those, there are more and more bruises blooming along her legs and exposed lower torso. Afraid to touch her to inspect the girl further, Hermione peered over her body to her back, where she saw sharp whip welts, blooming red and some leaking blood and lymph as they rose painfully.
Ginny began to stir, her voice coming roughly into her throat once again. Hermione, her face turned away from Ginny's at the moment her eyes opened, startled the girl, and she attempted to crab-crawl away from the form that she thought to be Bellatrix. The robe was deceiving, Hermione thought, quickly as she turned to Ginny and pulled back the hood.
"I...I thought you were her!" Ginny cried, her throat choking in a dry sob, as she'd cried all the tears she had left in her.
"She's dead, Ginny." Hermione said, running her fingers gently down her lover's cheek, a tear coming to her own eye.
"I thought I'd never see you again." Ginny whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams.
"Well, here I am. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, Hermione promised.
"But we are."