o.o.O.o.o
Disgust. Humiliation. Shame. All feelings that had been mostly foreign to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy during the course of his life. Since the return of the Dark Lord, they had become all too familiar companions. The only thing worse than feeling them himself was seeing those emotions reflected in the eyes of his wife and son. Narcissa hadn't been able to even look him in the eye since his release from Azkaban, and after last night he doubted his son would either. For all intents and purposes he had raped the Granger girl and there was no way around it. She might not have screamed and begged him to stop, but she had certainly not been entirely willing. A choice between him and being given to Greyback was hardly a choice at all, and her desperate sobs afterward had torn into his tattered soul.
Sleep had been impossible after that, her tear stained face haunting him every time he'd tried to close his eyes. He'd showered in near-scalding water leaving his skin raw and bleeding in places, and driven his fist into the cool tile of the shower until the pain had driven back the feelings of self-loathing. He couldn't continue like this, but he couldn't see a way out that didn't spell death for all of them.
The edge of desperation had driven him from the Manor, and taken him to Severus' hovel at Spinner's End. He'd poured the whole sordid tale out to him, and seen the sallow-faced man nearly recoil in shock.
"She wasn't killed during the attack?" Severus finally spoke unable to help looking slightly ill at the implications. Ever since he'd killed Albus, the Dark Lord had ordered him to keep under the radar. He hadn't been summoned to any meetings, and had very little news.
"No, though I imagine she wishes she had been. They forced her to watch her parents' deaths and then took her. The Dark Lord tore anything of use from her mind and threw her in a cell until he could determine a use for her." He threw back the glass of cheap scotch Severus had poured him. It burned, but the spreading warmth was worth it.
"There are potions I can brew to…hasten the process, if you need that," Severus offered after a long silence.
"I'll offer her the choice." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I can't imagine she'll be eager to face months of this…I know I'm not."
"Be careful old friend, he's done this for a reason," Severus said quietly. "He wants you to refuse."
"I know he's just waiting for an excuse and if it were only my life at stake, I'd just give it to him." He shook his head. "She's just a girl, Severus. I feel like a monster."
"You're not the only one," Severus ran a hand through his hair. "It's an impossible situation, for all of us."
Lucius sighed and let his gaze drift to the fire. Secretly, he wished that somehow Potter would find a way to win, before he was forced past the point of no return with this young witch. He'd long suspected that Severus was playing both sides, but to approach him without surety was suicide. He couldn't take that risk, not yet. There had to be a way for them both to walk away from this clean, he just needed to think of it.
o.o.O.o.o
Hermione woke to warmth and light streaming in from the window. It felt like forever since she'd seen the sun and for a moment she just enjoyed the simple pleasure of its warmth against her skin. Eventually, she forced herself to open her eyes. She pushed the blankets back and looked around the room, not having spent a lot of time examining it last night. The bed frame was metal and tarnished with age, a vanity table sat against one wall, and a tall chest of drawers against the wall beside the large window. She sat up, and ran a hand through her hair. She let out a groan of frustration at the tangled mess that came from sleeping on wet hair.
She got up and walked toward the window, making a face as something cold and sticky dripped down her thighs after a few steps. Bile rose up in the back of her throat. Not a bad dream then. She'd seriously fucked Lucius Malfoy last night to avoid being given to Fenrir Greyback. She hurried out of the bedroom, all but running to the bathroom to vomit. Because of her Voldemort knew everything that she and the boys had been planning, Merlin only knew if they were safe. Instead of fighting tooth and nail to escape, she'd just accepted her situation. Rolled over and did what they wanted. It was so weak and pathetic. She hated herself for giving in to the fear and despair.
Cold water rinsed the bitter taste out of her mouth, but didn't help the spinning sensation. She stayed there for a long moment, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. Giving in to this was just letting Voldemort win, and she couldn't do that. She was Hermione bloody Granger, and there had to be a way out of here. She just needed to find it.
"Pull yourself together," she said staring at her reflection. "You can do this."
After taking time to untangle the rat's nest her hair had twisted into overnight, she took another hot shower. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't chase away the feel of his hands on her skin, or the memory of how he'd made her feel. She pressed her forehead against the cool tile with the spray hitting the back of her neck. That was the real problem, it had felt good and she didn't want it to. She shouldn't have liked him touching her, teasing her, or moving inside of her. What did it say about her that she had? That wasn't a question she really wanted to answer right now. She sighed and turned off the water, getting out with no more answers than she'd had when she climbed in.
There was clean clothing laid out for her, a simple sun dress, underthings, and matching slippers. She brushed out her hair, battling the curls into something resembling submission for the moment. Back in the main room, she noticed there were a few things sitting on the small round dining table. She'd missed them in her mad dash to the bathroom.
There was a vase of fresh wildflowers, a couple of books, a potions bottle, and a folded piece of parchment. She unfolded the parchment first.
Miss Granger,
I'm sorry if I hurt you. The potion is for any lingering discomfort, please take it if you are in need. The House Elves will bring you a meal when you're ready, just call for Petal and she will serve you. I know this situation is untenable, but I will try to make you as comfortable as I can, under the circumstances. These rooms can only be accessed by me, so you will be safe from the Dark Lord's other followers. I will try and keep you supplied with reading material, and whatever other amusements I can. If you have specific requests, please ask me when I come tonight.
~ L.M.
Hermione refolded it and set it aside, picking up the potion bottle and uncorking it to smell the contents. It was very similar to the standard pain reliever they had brewed in class, but with a touch more peppermint. She took a small sip, not honestly needing much. She tucked the bottle away, just in case she needed it later. The thought of food actually turned her stomach a bit, so she grabbed one of the books and went over to sit on the couch. There was no fire in the grate, but it was warm enough with the light streaming in through the four large casement windows. Just as he'd mentioned, this was a history text focused on the magical side of the Norman Conquest. She let herself get drawn in and nearly screamed when something touched her hand.
"Sorry, sorry…Miss be needing to eat. Master said Miss needs to eat better." The little House elf was wringing her hands in worry, a soft peach coloured pillowcase serving as her clothes.
"Are you Petal?" Hermione said, as her heart started to come back to normal.
"Yes Miss."
"I…something light would be fine, please," she asked, seeing that the Elf wouldn't relax until she accepted something.
"Right away!" There was an audible *pop* and then Petal was gone. A tray appeared on the table, and Hermione got up to have something to eat. It was a light lunch of soup and buttered rolls, with some tea and few shortbread biscuits on the side. She ate what she could and then went over to the windows, looking outside. There was an edge of a massive stone wall some distance below the window and then for miles all she could see was stretches of heather covered moorland. Blushes of purple were spreading across the landscape, and it really was beautiful in its own way.
o.o.O.o.o
Lucius didn't return to visit Hermione until late that night, slipping in and finding her asleep on the couch. The history text he'd left her was open across her lap, already a fair ways into it. He took a moment to just observe her, relieved that it didn't look like she'd spent the day in tears. He went over, set her book aside, and reached out to touch her shoulder.
Her eyes snapped open, panicked for a moment and then calming as she saw him. She shifted on the couch, sitting up and tucking her legs under her.
"Thank you for the books," she said.
"It seemed like the least I could do." He moved back a bit, not wanting to crowd her. "I thought we should talk about a few things."
"Petal, tea please," Hermione called, motioning for him to sit on the other side of the couch. "I just wanted to let you know that you didn't hurt me. So please don't worry about that." She was keeping her eyes downcast, fingers fidgeting a little with the couch cushion. "I just wasn't expecting it to feel good."
Lucius nodded, understanding all too well. He was quiet as their tea appeared with a low table and he fixed his the way he wanted it. He tracked her movements as she added a tiny bit of honey and milk to her tea, filing that away for later.
"I told you last night that you have nothing to be ashamed of and I meant that," he said softly. "I cast a detection spell on myself earlier. The Dark Lord has placed an obscure monitoring charm on us, so he will know if we don't obey his orders. That leaves us three choices, as I see it: we defy him and pay the consequences, obey him and leave your conception up to chance, or there are potions that can…speed things up," he said.
"What chance? If we're having sex every night," her cheeks flushed again. "I'm going to get pregnant eventually."
"How much do you know about magical pregnancies?" he asked, feeling a bit of a headache coming on. Of course, the Medi-witch at Hogwarts didn't pull the witches aside for the 'talk' until the beginning of their final year. At her slightly confused look, he continued. "The birth rate for magical couples is exponentially lower than in muggles. The simple reason is that there are different magical types and not all are compatible. Witches that marry muggles often have an easier time getting pregnant because there is no magic to interfere with conception. Occasionally, you will get a witch and wizard that have naturally sympathetic magic, like Arthur and Molly, but it is exceedingly rare," he said.
"Is there no way to test compatibility?" she asked, head falling to the side.
"Not easily, but after a certain amount of time there are spells that can be cast, but they have to be done during sex. To make it more complicated, certain families are known for being difficult to match…like mine," Lucius said. That had been the reason for generations of only children born into their family. "If we leave things to chance, we buy time for your friend, but we are risking the Dark Lord becoming impatient. Depending on how disparate our magics are, it could be a matter of months or never." Lucius wanted her to understand that sometimes, no matter how hard couples tried…children just never came of it. Marriages had been ended over such things. Even beyond their situation, it was important information for a witch to have.
"You want Harry to win?" Hermione looked incredulous.
"The longer the Dark Lord is in power, the worse my family's situation becomes," Lucius said frankly. It was a calculated risk to voice his thoughts to her, but the odds that the Dark Lord would search her mind again weren't terribly high. A little honesty might help make this whole situation between them easier. "It would be better for my wife and son if Potter won. I'd end up back in Azkaban, but perhaps they could have some kind of life." He sighed. "That would be enough for me."
"Maybe you don't have to end up back in Azkaban…" Hermione said, head tilting to the side a little as if she was considering something. "If you helped the Order..."
"Even if I told them where this place was, they would kill themselves trying to get in. The Dark Lord requested this property because of its age, and the nature of the wards laid on it," he said, sympathy clear in his voice.
"That's not what I meant. I know that I'm stuck here until everything's over, but with Snape killing the Headmaster and turning on the Order, they need intelligence from the inside. If you could help them, maybe Harry could win." Hermione wiped away a stray tear. "I know Harry, if you can help him…he will stand up for you with the Ministry."
"I'll consider it," Lucius said. "I assume that for the time being you don't want to take a potion?"
"Not yet," she said softly, wrapping her arms around her middle. "We have time, right?"
"We have time," Lucius said and finished his tea. She would require delicate handling, but something told him that she was worth the extra effort.