Procyon Mask - Chapter 9

A/N: Just keep writing, just keep writing~

Her gaze keeps flickering up to the clockwork tower, taking note of the hands ticking away. The time for her to depart is getting closer and closer. Or rather it's passed.

Not that Barty had given her a specific time to show up at the Crouch Manor, but he probably was expecting her soon. She had shown up last weekend not too long after nine, and left the following Sunday just half an hour past that. And right now… it was 10:30. A full hour and a half later than when she had willingly gone back to the manor before.

In truth she didn't want to go, but it was either that or spend however long in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors. Or however the Death-Eater controlled Ministry might seek to punish her for the offense. The important thing was that she would need to leave before midnight, otherwise she couldn't fulfill the total forty eight hours within the week.

It's just… after doing another thorough search of the library, pestering Madam Pince for an update on a long overdue book… all those hours searching and searching for an answer out of her predicament: she had nothing. Not a single grain of new information. The book she was wanting to check out has been missing now for over two years. Someone might have brought it back home accidentally or stolen it because of the contents. Either way the book wasn't going to just magically appear after so much time had passed.

Madam Pince had grown angry over her questioning, reinforcing her view that students should never be able to check out books in the first place. That had led to a rather winding debate over the matter, and Irma had conceded that she did trust a few of the students - like Hermione - to take care of her books and respect her policies. But there were far more that she didn't.

Should she punish the few for the offenses of the many? Irma Pince certainly wanted to, but Dumbledore always convinced her that knowledge needed to be shared, with minimal hurdles to jump through.

Hermione sighs, resting her head in her hands, gazing down at the medallion in her lap. The gems sparkled in the moonlight, the bronze metal practically glowing, somehow making the dips and contours that made up the 'chain' or 'thorns' even more pronounced. It was… beautiful. In a haunting kind of way.

Somehow… looking at it made her sad, she felt hollow, lost and alone. It heightened her feeling of alienation, the thought that she may very well lose her friends before the year was up. If they ever found out that she was feeding information to the enemy now - even if it was against her will - would they forgive her?

She squeezes her eyes shut, lowering a hand to wrap around the medallion and bringing it up to her chest. Hermione leans back against the stone, opening her eyes once more to check the time.

It was nearly eleven.

She should go. Before she got lost in her own self pity.

Her lips tremble, the corner of her eyes growing warm as the tears threaten to spill over. This was really happening. She couldn't find a way out and Barty was waiting for her. To toy with her further. She imagines she's the only entertainment he has in that place. Must be nice… having an Order spy in your pocket. No worries over them betraying you because you control every movement they make. She was less a spy and more a slave. What a fucking monster she had been married to. That she was to sleep with…

Hermione takes a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. But nothing was working. That's why she was still sitting here. She couldn't calm down. She couldn't stop her body from trembling with the knowledge of what he would inevitably do to her, what else he might have planned for the future.

That loathsome manipulative treacherous man.

The hallway falls into silence as Filch turns around, angrily hobbling off to the courtyard to go yell at whatever students were pawing at each other in the Beauxbatons carriages. Mrs. Norris directs one last hiss at her before following the despicable man.

She lets out a breath, a shiver running through her when the two are finally gone.

There's a rustling of robes to her right, a dull thump resonating as the man sits down on the staircase next to her. A wooden leg is tilted at an angle as it rests on the stone.

"That bad of a night? You looked to be enjoying yourself earlier."

Her lips tremble as she fights back another sob. "I-"

Moody sighs, resting his cane against the wall. "What happened?"

And the dam breaks once more: tears running freely down her face…

Why the hell was she thinking about that now?

Because the fact is that all of this was unnecessary for him. How long did Barty watch Moody before getting a feel for how to impersonate him? A month? A week? Or just a few days? And he had fooled so many people… even Dumbledore. He had been able to observe everyone in Hogwarts while here. He could easily imperio her and make it appear like nothing had ever changed.

So why didn't he? Wouldn't it be easier than playing these games with her?

Probably. But it wouldn't be as fun.

"Shit."

Hermione shakes her head, fingers tightening over the medallion she forces her gaze back up, staring at the clock face. 11:30

She was running out of time…

She gathers what little courage she can and raises the medallion to her lips, whispering softly so as to not disturb the air around her, "Take me to him."

The world turns gray, closing in and whirling around her. Once again she's being crushed, except this time it's her whole body. The slabs of stone grind against her, peeling her skin back and then rubbing her muscle raw. Her voice catches in her throat, a scream never leaving her lips before the pain just… stops.

Hermione is left gasping when she falls onto the floor, a single tear running down her cheek.

After a moment she slowly raises her head to see she's in the manor's library. Bartemius is sitting in a plush chair across from her, one leg raised so his ankle rests on his other knee. A cup of tea sits on the table beside him, steam rising rising from it. He was… just lounging here, reading a damn book. His gaze flicks up over the book's edge to meet hers, then is drawn back down to the page.

She takes a moment to let out the breath she had been holding. "Aren't you going to berate me for nearly being late? Imperio me and order that I go to bed?"

Barty licks at his thumb before turning a page in his book. "It might shock you: but I'm not needlessly cruel, Hermione. No matter how much you wish it."

"So what?" Hermione pushes herself up into a sitting position, arms hanging loose at her sides once their job is done. "You making me say that I wished Harry would die in front of Lucius was just a bad dream I had? You forcing me to do things against my will like betraying my friends is a fallacy?"

"I never claimed to be a saint."

"You're the cruelest man I've ever met."

Barty shrugs. "If that's how you feel, then that's how you feel."

A laugh gets stuck in her throat. Was he being serious right now? "Don't you feel any ounce of responsibility for what you've done? To me? To Harry? Or were you born without a single sympathetic bone in your body?"

"Hmm, my father would probably say that I was born without one." He glances up at her. "Is that what you want to hear?"

What she wanted to hear? Was he completely insane? "Is torturing people just a sport to you?" she nearly spits the words at him, her body beginning to tremble under his gaze.

"I think you'd know if I was torturing you. After all, you're not screaming. Are you?" Barty shifts the book to his left hand, fingers wrapping around the steaming mug's handle. "Tea? You're shivering."

Hermione bolts up from the floor. "Excuse me!? You single-handedly uprooted my entire life to turn me into a damn puppet for you to toy with! You're using me against my friends in a war started by your treasured Voldemort! You stole my future from me! I don't think I've ever hated someone as much as I hate you right now! And you offer me fucking tea!?"

Barty sighs, setting the mug back down. "That's a no I take it."

"Of course it's a no! Are you bloody mad!? I don't know if you've realized this yet: but I don't want to fucking be here!" Her hands curl into fists at her side, tempted to grab for her wand, but she knows he'll just imperio her if she does that. "And I would rather you get the law over with now than continuing to torment me like this!"

Barty's brow pinches down, fingers tracing the edge of his book before slamming it shut. Hermione jerks in place, but stands her ground, glaring at him as he sets the book aside, lowering his other leg back to the floor. "And how, pray tell, am I tormenting you?"

She nearly grits her teeth. "With the damn law and your sick jokes! Do you really think that there's any other option at the end of month for me other than being raped!? I've already said it a million times: I'm never fucking you of my own will! So, what's it going to be!? Are you going to imperio me into your bed like you imperiod me into marrying you!? Or are you going to force an aphrodisiac down my throat!? Maybe a few drops of amortentia!? That way I can stomach your disgusting body long enough for you to get off! Or do you like it when your victim can't fight back!? Are you going to knock me out with a sleeping draught!? How the fuck do you plan to rape me Barty!?"

Hermione struggles to take a breath after shouting so much, her body trembling. Her head feels light, fuzzy, almost as if she had been winded. Her mouth falls open as she pants, but somehow the air evades her.

Did he cast a spell on her?

Barty gets up from his seat, moving over to her and she takes a step back, still gasping for air. Her foot slips from underneath her and gravity quickly pulls her down-

An arm encircles her waist, bringing her back up before more gently laying her back down. Her head meets something soft. A pillow? She strains her head, meeting Barty's gaze as her chest heaves. What had he done to her?

He frowns down at her, lips twisting and it takes her a moment to make out the words. "Hermione, are you listening to me? You're having a panic attack. You need to calm down."

Need? What she needed was to not be married to a sick fuck like him! She opens her mouth to snap at him, but all that comes out is a strangled cry.

Despite no air being in her lungs somehow her heart is beating faster and she feels a chill descend down her spine. What's happening to me?

"Damn it. You stupid girl." She can see his fingers shift from the corner of her eye, some flask appears in them and his hand descends to her mouth.

"Nnnhn-nno."

Hermione jerks her head to the side, feet sliding along the ground in her attempt to get away, but the arm around her waist holds and he forces her head back. The liquid hits the back of her throat and suddenly her body seizes. She can't move. Just listen to the thump thump thump of her heart beating directly into her ears.

"Shhh. Swallow."

A pair of fingers stroke at her throat and eventually her body gives, swallowing down whatever had been in the flask.

Barty's hand moves from her throat to her cheek, fingers continuously stroking as he shifts his grip on her waist, leaning her back against him. Hermione sucks in a breath of air, the ringing in her ears getting quieter. His fingers move upwards to thread through her hair and she shivers beneath his touch, wanting to pull away, but she's still panting. Her body's sole focus is getting air back into her body as her heart slows in her chest.

Thump.

"Good. Just focus on taking deep breaths. You're going to be fine."

"Hah."

"Don't strain yourself. Take it nice and slow."

She stares up at him, chest jerking occasionally beneath her, though after a minute her body finally stops trembling and she finds herself breathing normally again. What the bloody hell?

"There. See? You're fine."

Hermione blinks, gaze flickering to his arm, the one whose hand is currently in her hair.

Barty sighs softly above her. "It was just a calming draught. Anyway, I was serious when I said I'm not going to rape you. I don't plan on hurting you, Hermione. I talked with the Ministry officials earlier, what with their law not wanting to instigate rape and us getting married immediately. They extended the monthly requirement for our case. You don't need to be stressing yourself out over it, okay?"

Hermione swallows, testing her vocal cords before parting her lips, "Fuck you. You're the reason Voldemort is back. You almost killed Harry. Don't you think for a second I'm going to let you manipulate me."

He's silent for a moment before speaking again, "You have more than a month left before we need to have intercourse. Take the time you need to get used to the idea."

Her heart skips a beat.

"So… how long? Two months? Three? Are you going to clarify or leave me in the dark?"

"I don't think clarifying would help your situation."

Hermione lets out a sharp laugh, feeling his fingers dig into her side shortly after. "No, you wouldn't. You just want to see me suffer, asshole." His fingers continue to thread through her hair and she tries to shift away from him but his grip on her waist doesn't loosen. "Just tell me why-" her voice cracks, a sob slipping from her lips. "Why did you come after me? What in the hell did I do to you to deserve this?"

Barty doesn't respond though, his gaze shifting from her, causing Hermione to growl softly.

"Answer me when I speak to you, damn it." She remembers the words resonating in her head when he imperiod her and throws them back at him now.

Even so he remains silent, nails threatening to slip through her clothes and sink into her skin.

She trembles in his arms, her eyes suddenly growing hot again, but whenever she blinks the tears escape, running down her cheeks. "I fucking hate you. So, so much." She closes her eyes, trying to suppress the tears, but now that they've started flowing she can't get them to stop. "Fuck!" Hermione jerks in his grip, screaming seconds later, "Harry! Ron! Ginny! Please, answer me! Someone, anyone help me! Molly! Fred! George! I can't-I don't want this! Mother! Father!"

She continues to scream until her voice is raw, until finally her body goes limp in his arms and she slips into unconsciousness, tears still running down her face.

…it may take me more than a day to get back to this. See you then.