Procyon Mask - Chapter 10

A/N: I have finally put up a proper notice on Lunar Embrace about it being 'put to rest.' No idea why it took me so long to realize I should do that… but it's done now. So yay? Anyway, I hope everyone's been enjoying this marriage law iteration. Let's get on with the darn show!

She opens her eyes to see her arms stretched out before her on a mattress, though unlike the first time she can twitch her fingers just fine. Hermione sighs softly then freezes in the next moment, listening carefully for the sounds of breathing behind her.

But there's none.

The room is quiet, all she can hear is the fan slowly turning above the canopy. Barty isn't here. She's alone. That was a small mercy after last night…

God, how had she let herself fall so utterly apart in front of him? She may as well have cut her wrist and written her defeat out in blood: You won. I'm your mudblood slave-wife. Unless that book reappeared in the library she didn't know what else she could do to break the binding. Perhaps she could ask Madam Pince where she could find copies of it, but there was no guarantee the woman would know.

And Barty finally knew he had her - if he hadn't figured it out before. She still went to class with her friends, talked with them, but she couldn't say anything meaningful. Nothing about her being married, not that she couldn't be trusted even with small reports from the Order. She was to report everything to Barty. And her words would eventually reach Voldemort's ears.

"Remus, why?" She closes her eyes, taking a sharp breath of air. "Why didn't you pull Arthur aside? Into another fucking room? Bloody hell. What am I supposed to do?"

She would need to tell Barty what she had heard when he asked her. And he was going to ask her. There's no way he would just forget because she had a mental breakdown in front of him. She couldn't lie to him. She couldn't hide the information from him, not by herself anyway. And no one knew she was a liability except the enemy, so it's not like she could ask one of her friends to pull out her memories pertaining to the Order so she would have nothing to report.

Hermione was screwed. And eventually that would take on a literal meaning as well. Even if she had more time than she first thought until he would rape her… It didn't matter. Now she didn't even know how long she had since Barty had refused to elaborate. But…

She had to have at least two months. Maybe three. The Ministry was desperate, so she wasn't sure if she could count on a fourth month as well. So in essence somewhere between forty five and seventy three days seems to be her safest bet. It… was quite the disparity. And even if she knew exactly how long she had... the outcome would still be the same.

Her fingers coil into the sheets before she curls both her hands into fists and slams them down on the comforter. Hermione holds her breath for a moment then loosens her fingers, sitting up and glancing around the room.

A light blue cloth was slung over the chair near the vanity.

Robes?

Ah, right. She couldn't even wear her own clothes here unless she was alone in Barty's room - she would never call it their room - because if he has unsolicited visitors she needed to look the part. To be his demure wife, a mudblood dressed in fancy pure-blood robes. The thought made her stomach churn and she's thankful that it's currently empty. She was so sick of throwing her food up lately.

Hermione runs her tongue over her dry cracked lips before she gets up and moves over to the chair, running her fingers over the fabric. It's soft, the lace smooth. Silk? Or satin? She can't tell the difference and she doesn't particularly care.

She pulls her current robes from her body, some of it stained by her tears from last night. Hermione quickly kicks them aside before grasping for the fresh air in front of her and lifting it from the chair.

Her brow furrows. These weren't wizarding robes. It was a kimono. Well, technically it was shorter than a traditional one. It would probably only reach down to her mid-thigh. So more of the western equivalent of a kimono.

She turns it around in her hands so she can see the outward design rather than just the inside. On the front are light green trails of mist, white silhouettes of birds passing through the twisting fog. A deep blue sash wraps around the bustline, currently hanging loose. If Barty didn't keep saying he didn't intend to rape her she might think of it as something he could easily open to have access to her body.

No. She couldn't afford to think like that. As much as she hates it, she'll have to trust Barty will keep to his word. Even if he was a known liar. Otherwise she might have another panic attack and she hadn't enjoyed the first one.

Slowly Hermione slips her arms through the openings, overlapping the fabric in the front and keeping one hand pressed to the flaps as she secures the sash so it doesn't just fall open. Her gaze raises to the mirror, noting her messy hair she grabs her wand from the vanity tabletop, muttering a few charms to untangle her hair and then smoothen it.

She places her wand back down, staring at her reflection, though she barely registers the person in the mirror. She doesn't look anything like herself. She looks like a complacent doll. And there's a tube of pink lipstick standing on the vanity. With a shaking hand she grasps it, applying the cherry pink to her lips before setting it back down.

Was he actually expecting company? Or did he just expect her to put on whatever he laid out so she got used to wearing what he wanted, to acting like his wife?

She didn't get it. She didn't get him.

He had sat there on the floor last night, with her in his lap, fingers just threading through her hair as she screamed all manners of obscenities at him, not saying a damn word in response. But he also hadn't let her go. He hadn't let her crawl off to cry in a corner by herself like she had wanted, away from him.

Hermione gives her reflection one last glance to make sure she looks presentable before opening the door and making her way down the hall.

Okay, think.

Forty five more days was still longer than her initial thirty. That was plenty of time for her to get permission from McGonagall to check if the bookstore in Hogsmeade had anything she could utilize to break the binding. It wasn't conventional as she would have to use her allowance to pay for the book and if it ended up being a dead end… That would just be money wasted. But it's the only choice she had left. Diagon Alley was too far of a trip for her to make. Or rather McGonagall would never permit it without a solid reason for Hermione going there.

She could always make something up… but she didn't really want to lie to McGonagall. On the other hand she was running out of options. Lying might just be her best bet. Plus Flourish and Blotts would have a far wider selection than the little bookshop in Hogsmeade.

Alright. She had a new plan. That was good. Now let's just not breakdown in front of Barty again…

Hermione pauses in the doorway, looking out at the garden. Barty was seated at the table, reading once more. Two cups of steaming tea sat in front of him, as well as one empty plate and one full one.

Her stomach growls and she hates it for betraying her.

"Have a seat, Hermione." Barty doesn't even look up when he speaks. "We still need to go over everything you learned last week. Without the imperious curse this time. You need to learn how to act without my guidance."

"Is that what you call it?"

Hermione takes a breath when his gaze shifts to her, breathing out when his eyes turn down to the table and he grabs his cup of tea, taking a sip. "Sit, please."

She blinks, reluctantly moving over to the table and sitting across from him. Hermione grasps for her own tea cup, warming her hands on the ceramic.

"The kimono suits you."

"I think I look ridiculous."

Barty shrugs, taking another gulp of tea before setting his cup down. "I'll look into expanding your wardrobe if you tell me what you like."

"No."

"Then you have no one to blame but yourself if you're uncomfortable."

Hermione frowns at him but finally takes a sip from her own mug. Peppermint. Somehow the taste makes her stomach queasy. She sets her cup down, opting to spread some jam on her toast and taking a bite. At least it wasn't burnt.

After a few minutes Barty sighs, placing his book down. "About last night-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That's cute, Hermione. But we need to address the problem so it doesn't happen again."

"There's no problem. I can handle it myself."

"Can you?"

Her gaze flickers to him, unsure of how to respond in a way that might convince him after she had cried for her mother and father of all people to save her from a bloody insane wizard. She opts to take the last bite of her toast, ignoring him.

"Right. I forbid you from trying to break the binding or get out of our marriage."

What?

She nearly spits out her toast, staring at him as he picks up his book, flipping to some page in the middle. Hermione forces herself to swallow, taking a gulp of tea to help wash the food down before slamming her cup down.

Barty doesn't even blink.

"You what now!?"

He taps softly at the corner of his book with a single finger. "I said I forbid you from doing whatever you were trying to do in hopes of breaking the binding or getting out of this marriage. I don't know why you're so surprised. Apparently I should've done this to begin with if all you were going to do was worry yourself into a fucking panic attack. So, congratulations. Now you don't need to worry."

"You…" Hermione slowly sits up from her chair, not wanting to believe her ears. "Asshole!" She swipes her cup up from the table, throwing it across the table, though it goes sailing over his shoulder and shatters on the stone path leading deeper into the garden.

"Sports aren't your forte, hm?"

"How dare you!" Hermione shouts, quickly grabbing her plate to fling it across the way. It hits a column and explodes onto the grass as she feels her body begin to tremble, her blood positively boiling. "All I want is to not be married to you! Is that too much to bloody ask for!? You don't even need to be married to me to make the binding work, so why the fuck did you bother!?"

Hermione glances around, but besides Barty's leftover dishes from breakfast there's nothing else for her to wrap her fingers around. And they're currently twitching at her sides. Gods… she wants to punch him, but Barty would surely retaliate if she did that. Fucking bastard!

She reaches across the table for his half-full mug, flinging it into a shrub with a snap of her wrist. Though, the grass doesn't seem to mind being splattered with tea and the cup remains relatively unbroken, hanging from a branch, a crack running down the side.

Barty flips to the next page in his book.

Hermione explodes, "Fucking say something! Anything! That you're sorry! That you'll go to the Ministry and fix my damn letter! Divorce me! I'm a dirty mudblood and you're a fucking pure-blood supremacist! Why the fuck would you want to touch me!? Why in the bloody hell do I have to be forced to have your children!? They won't be pure-bloods like you want! You just want to use me as a damn spy! So fucking use me as your mole and then leave me the fuck alone!"

She only waits for a second before grabbing his plate and chucking it at the other column. It shatters with a satisfying clang, but now she's out of ammunition and she still has the overwhelming urge to just tear something apart. To have some semblance of control back in her life.

"Is this part of your fucking plan!? To just take everything from me!? When did I piss you off back in Fourth Year!? Was it after you demonstrated the unforgivable curses on a spider in class!? When I came to you in fucking confidence trying to pull Harry from the tournament!? What was it that set you off to hold such a grudge against me!? Tell me, please! If you're not going to sever our vows you might as well be honest with me! Because you've literally bound me to your side even after death! You fucking piece of shit!"

Hermione is seething, but Barty merely taps his fingers on the table's bare surface.

"I don't see why you're angry at me. You're the one that made this necessary."

"Fuck you, Barte-" Her wrists starts burning mid-scream and she hisses, clasping at the spot his fingers had rested on their wedding day. Bloody hell. He had her referring to that moment as an actual wedding now!

She curses him under her breath, turning on her heel and heading back towards the manor.

"Where are you going?"

"To our room. So I can get away from my loving husband." Hermione snaps back, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

"No. You're staying here and picking up the shards from the dishes you threw."

She spins back around to face him, arms trembling at her sides. "What do you care!? You can just use magic to bloody fix them!"

His gaze finally moves up from the book to settle on her. "You're right. I don't care. But you're the one throwing a bloody tantrum and making a mess. So," Barty sets down the book, eyes narrowing at her. "Pick up the pieces." he speaks slowly, punctuating each word and a shiver runs down her spine.

Would he really imperio her over something so small? Of course he would.

Hermione grits her teeth but walks over to the broken tea cup, bending down to pick up the pieces of ceramic. At least they shattered into big pieces rather than small ones. She still has to look out for the sharp edges, though.

Her fingers pick up the shards on the stone quickly, wanting nothing more than to be away from Barty. He actually fucking said it. Ordered her to not look for a way out of her predicament. At first she couldn't get help from anyone and now she couldn't even help herself. She was officially out of options when it came to getting out of here. And she couldn't do a bloody thing about it!

She mutters obscenities under her breath, moving over to the shrub to retrieve the mostly intact mug, dropping the shards she had retrieved inside before moving over to the first column.

As she bends down to start picking up the pieces a set of fingers snake into her hair and pull hard. Hermione's head is jerked up and she yelps from the accompanying burn at the base of her skull, glaring into Barty's narrowed eyes.

"I thought you said you didn't plan on hurting me?" She growls through her teeth, "Fucking liar."

"Hurting you and being rough are two separate things." He gives a yank at her hair, eliciting a snarl from her lips. "Now, stop mewling. That's not what I taught you. Understood?"

"Of course, Master. How could I forget your word is the new world law."

Barty's eye twitches, but he lets go of her and leans back into the chair, going back to his book. "Bloody women."

Hermione wastes little time picking up the rest of the shards, gathering what she can in the tea cup and the rest in the palm of her unoccupied hand. Soon enough she stands up with the broken kitchenware and starts towards the doorway of the manor.

"Leave those on the kitchen counter. I'll fix them. Just go to the library and chill the fuck out. I'll be in when you've cooled off."

She frowns, glancing over her shoulder at him. "And what if I'm in the restroom or something when you come by?"

His jaw gives a twitch and he raises his gaze to meet hers, fingers tapping alongside the back of his book. "I am not going to punish you on a technicality, Hermione. Now, go to the damn library before I lose the last shred of patience I have reserved for you today."

She purses her lips but heads inside, leaving the shards on the kitchen counter. Just as he fucking asked.

Hermione sighs, finally stopping for a moment to run her hands through her hair. She's tempted to scream or growl like a wild animal. To feel the walls shake around her and shatter the windows. This was fucking ludicrous.

Now what the hell was she supposed to tell her parents? She had wanted to wait to inform them about the law until after she had succeeded in getting out from Barty's grip. But that was no longer happening. There was just no way… Unless by some miracle someone else figured it out - and just ignored the fact that she appeared to be perfectly happy in her relationship with 'Radovan.'

"Fuuuck!"

Hermione barely stops herself from shouting at the top of her lungs, but she's certain Barty heard her anyway. She waits a moment to make sure she doesn't hear him approaching before making her way to the library, the path quickly twisting like a snake.

Why was this place designed this way? It was bloody infuriating walking around her own damn home and needing to remember that sometimes the hallways just stretched for longer than normal. Or got so small that when she moved from one room to the next the doors just happened to be next to each other. It made no damn sense!

At this rate she was just going to end up lost in the damn Manor. Forget trying to find the bathroom in this place even if she needed to. There was no bloody reason to put some odd distortion enchantment on one's own home!

"Senior! You bloody asshole! Come back from the dead right now and fix this place!"

The numerous paintings along the walls don't answer her, though. There's no ghosts, friendly or otherwise, in here. She suspects if there had been Barty had taken those pictures down and torn them up.

Perfect.

She keeps walking before coming to the large double doors leading to the library, only identifying it from the distinct gold trim along the edge, numerous runes running along it. Though, they're not placed in any meaningful way that actually spells out library.

With a sigh Hermione pushes the doors open, making a beeline to the couch and promptly sitting down. It only takes a second before she's bent over, head in her hands.

What was she going to tell her parents? Did the Ministry send out letters explaining the law to them already? Were they even aware their daughter was being forced to marry so young?

She had the sinking feeling the Ministry hadn't had the foresight to send letters to any muggle parents. Because all her friends' parents knew about the law from the newspaper, but her parents didn't receive the Daily Prophet. So she would need to tell them herself.

Telling them even a semblance of the truth was out of the question, even if she had the option. They would just freak out on her behalf.

She could inform them of the law, they could deduce that she fit the age range themselves, and ask her if she's received her letter already. Of course, she couldn't mention that she was already married, especially to someone that hated them all. She would have to use the fake name Barty gave her, as she has been.

There was no way she was getting her parents involved in this mess. She still doesn't know how Barty's own vow would activate. What qualifies as trying to take her away from him? Her parents not letting her go back to Hogwarts so that it became obvious something was wrong? Her friends holding her 'hostage' to keep her from him? Running to another country - if she could. Someone giving her a fatal injury? Obliviating her memories-

Hermione draws in a breath, fingers loosening in her hair.

If someone tries to take you from me I promise a ghastly death to them.

No. It wouldn't even need to be fatal. Did the vow trigger on intent, then? If someone grabbed her with the intent to simply pull her away from Barty… if someone tried to kill her which meant she would be forced to leave him early…

She can't make any assumptions. And the war wasn't exactly an open one right now. There were no battles for her to fling herself into recklessly. And it would be reckless. If one of her friend's spells hit her in an accident that could very well trigger the vow. And Barty would kill them. It wouldn't be quick, it would be slow and painful. He would draw it out, torture them for as long as he felt before finally slitting their throat and watching the blood run…

No. There was just no way.

Barty would never allow himself to be used to betray the Death Eaters. There was no way the binding would work like that. He wouldn't make such an oversight. Not for her of all people.

No. She was making herself delusional. Barty had made that vow to keep her from even leaving hints to her friends to find and realize she was in danger. To intimidate her into obedience. She shouldn't even be entertaining this idea… not without knowing exactly how the vow was triggered. If there were multiple ways for it to go off.

Footsteps echo down the hall and Hermione quickly raises her head, staring at the open library door until Barty's frame fills the entrance.

"Hermione." He inclines his head to her. "You feeling less volatile?"

She forces her lips to move, "Yes, Barty."

He seems to just regard her sitting there, gaze moving around the room.

She hasn't taken a single book off the shelves. Had he expected her to? She supposed if he really was a legilimens he would have used the ability to look into her thoughts when he first came in. And then obliviate such ideas from her mind…

Hermione finds herself holding her breath until he finally steps into the room. "Let's get started with your-"

"Are you familiar with the name Svatomir Krevmaj?"

Barty falls silent at her words, gazing back at her, lips drawn into a thin line. "I imagine one of your friend's parents told you about the incident? On Monday was it?"

Hermione barely stops a shudder from running through her body. How the bloody hell did he know about that? "Can you… feel when I try to disobey you?"

He lets out a sigh, walking over to sit in the same plush chair from last night. "Yes. It varies in intensity, though. There's a few different factors that determine how the binding goes about stopping you. If an immediate response is needed or something more gradual." He drags a finger along the arm of his chair. "Obviously, the way it stops you and notifies me is different. It's just… a feeling. The more you struggle the more pronounced it becomes. It's not meant to do much else."

"Oh."

But… if the vow differed in response times… Did that mean he could fight off his vow even if she were to be hit by another Death Eater's spell? Or just that he could take his time responding to it? That he would eventually have to kill the person but could wait years before acting on it? If the binding decided on something more gradual that is… Problem was she needed immediate effects. Or at least something semi-immediate.

Thing was, Barty's wrist had been encompassed by a royal purple. Not black sludge. The binding could very well give him more control over his own vows since it saw him as the 'lord.'

There were just too many unknowns for her to act on her desires. And she wasn't sure how to put his vow to the test without Barty noticing what she was doing. Without the vows stopping her from throwing herself in front of a wayward spell. He might just permanently imperio her.

"So, did you actually know Svatomir? What happened to him?" Hermione pulls her legs up onto the couch, leaning back and trying to relax.

"I didn't kill him if that's what you're asking." Barty waves his hand and after a minute a trolley rolls into the room, with fresh steaming mugs and pastries beneath a clear lid. It stops first at Barty before moving to her. Hermione glances at the enchanted trolley before grabbing a cup of tea and picking out a few pastries onto a plate, waiting as Barty takes a sip from his own cup. Though, the contents look darker than hers. Coffee? "Svatomir was a cousin from my mom's side of the family."

Hermione leans back, sniffing at her tea. Chamomile. He was rather serious about her remaining calm, wasn't he?

"A rising quidditch star. He's the reason I started going to the matches at Hogwarts. Not that any student compared to how he flew. I hadn't really cared for the sport before then. About a year after he was picked up by a professional team he was on his way back home from a match. The train got hit by a rampaging lesnik. The train cars were crushed along with everyone in them, including Svatomir." Barty frowns, gaze slipping away into the distance. "His mother was devastated. Her daughter had been murdered earlier that summer. She cut whatever remaining ties she had with family and friends. I haven't heard from her in a long while."

"I can't imagine how she must have been feeling." To lose two children within the span of a year…

"The deaths weren't a coincidence. I'm sure she came to the same conclusion."

"Still…"

If Arthur did reach out to the Krevmaj family, would there even be anyone to send a letter back? It was a selfish thought, but she had been hoping that maybe they would know about the binding ritual. That she could finally get some answers.

A dull pain resonates through her wrist. "Do you think she's okay?"

Barty lets out a snort, gaze refocusing. "That woman is too stubborn to die. And her house is…" he sighs. "Well, it's not important." He chugs down the rest of whatever is in his mug. "Are you ready to continue your lessons, now? Do remember that if you don't do exactly as I say you'll leave me no choice but to imperio you when you're not in our room."

Hermione feels a chill descend over her. She doesn't want to continue the lessons. She's positive Barty will expect her to say things like wanting her friends dead with a smile on her face. Just like when he imperiod her last weekend.

"Yes, my love."