Chapter 12 – The Devil's Own
Author: Rikka
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; I'm just playing with them for a short while. I'll give them back, with a knowing smile on their faces, once I've finished with them.
A/N: I really appreciate reviews. I'm writing this in my free time, which is, well, to be honest, slim, even with the fact that I just got out for the semester. I'm trying to find the money to get a new engine in my car (a piston busted a hole straight through it), and convince the company that hired me to pay for me to move from Massachusettes to Florida, a feat that isn't exactly easy and has involved too many hours wasted on the phone so far. So, any reviews are VERY, VERY WELCOME. ::hint, hint, nudge, nudge:: OK, I'll stop whoring myself for reviews. For all you younger folk who are reading this despite its rating, there's nothing naughty about this chapter (sorry to all those reading FOR the naughty bits…) but soon enough we'll get back to the more…carnal…aspects of this story. ::cackles evilly:: So, yeah, be kind, review!!
No one noticed Hermione was missing until the next day, when she didn't show up for class. After a thorough search of the castle, starting in the library, Dumbledore's office was full of a very worried Deputy Headmistress, a very upset Harry, a very irate Ron, and a very…well, no one was sure why Snape kept pacing, although Professor McGonagall was getting pretty suspicious.
*****
Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not a calculated man. His entire life, not one decision had been made impulsively; he thought everything through to the last detail, and had an uncanny knack at predicting the best course of action for himself. It bothered him that this little mud blood had gotten under his skin. For almost seven years he had been hearing about her from his son, and to his shame and enjoyment, she had gone from a homely little thing with big hair and matching teeth to what could only be described as…hypnotic.
He had "employed" Vincent and Gregory to "acquire" the Granger girl after hearing from Vincent that Draco was displaying an unusual interest in her. He had been obsessed with making her a woman for years now, and he was certain that she was still an innocent. According to his son, the only romantic entanglements she ever had was with that Bulgarian fellow, and that was a few years ago. Lucius laughed out loud at the Potter and Weasley fools; had he been her friend, she would have been writhing and moaning under him in sweaty pleasure before Krum even became a player.
He had photos of her. Lots of them. At first, magical ones, but in those she kept making rude gestures to him, and so he had resorted to having muggle ones taken. They were much less…insulting…to his great ego; he found it easier to envision her in various positions when she wasn't giving him that damned finger.
Of course, he wasn't exactly against those hands of hers; he just wanted her to use them only in the way he wanted. And perhaps, once she was properly broken, those hands would be used to help in the downfall of Dumbledore, and Severus. Lucius had his suspicions about Severus. He had been feeling twinges of doubt about the man for awhile now, but had yet to voice them, because mainly he had yet to articulate them to himself. It wasn't as though Severus had always been one-hundred and ten percent involved in the Death Revels; it was more that he had just…stopped…participating. Even in just a small amount, and that was where the doubt came from. When a man wasn't even willing to take a woman who would open her legs without a second thought, well then, there must be something wrong with him. Either that, or he was gay, and Lucius knew for a fact that Severus was very heterosexual; he had himself attempted to get Severus…involved…a few times, with a woman, or a boy, but every time Severus had denied him his fantasy.
A fantasy he now desired to fulfill with the little mudblood Hermione. If it came down to him and Draco enjoying the girl, it would happen. It wasn't as though he hadn't had many threesomes and orgies with other Deatheaters; no, it was more he desired to do it with another man…worthy…of sharing a woman with him. Of course, he wouldn't pursue this particular route until after he had worn her in a bit.
Though, the Granger chit wasn't fully a woman yet. That was part of what about her that appealed to him so much; in Lucius's opinion, there was nothing quite as enjoyable as young flesh; and if it was young flesh, sex was inconsequential. Something about that moment of innocence lost, the transition between childhood and adulthood that normally only nature had the power over; Lucius reveled in the ability that he could take it, could steal it, rape it, despite so many years of "natural order" or whatever else you wished to call it.
Once upon a time, Severus would have nodded in agreement with that ravenous glint in his eye, maybe even helped him in getting some young virgin separated from the herd. Now, he was…distant. Life-long friends gradually separating over what seemed to be one developing regrets over things better left alone, things that had never in the past caused a second thought, let alone tears of regret. Oh, and Lucius had seen the tears glistening in Severus's eyes as he was forced to rape young women in front of Voldemort; had seen the disgusted faces he made, thinly veiled in a trademark scowl, that Severus made at other Deatheaters. At one time they could have been degrading women in tandem; now, Lucius was lucky if he could get Severus to laugh at an objectionable joke about whatever muggle McNair or Crabbe or Goyle were demeaning.
Lucius never tried to fool himself into believing he was more than he actually was; a sybarite at heart, he would never pass up a sexual situation. Hell, he wouldn't pass up a sexual opportunity for that matter. Whether by force or by invitation, at his core he was nothing more than a man, and had never impostured himself as anything but. That was his main issue with Severus; the fact that the man actually tried to convince himself that he had raised himself to some higher moral ground by denying himself his natural wants. Through asceticism purity would never betide. Give me my sin, Lucius thought to himself as he wandered towards the dungeons of his mother's father's estate, confident in the knowledge that not even Voldemort himself knew of his whereabouts at the moment.
*****
Hermione was bleeding. The head of her bed was jagged, as though someone had broken it in a fit of…something. She had rocked, tossed and turned, tried to sleep but sleep wouldn't come with that smell filling the room, and at some point, she wasn't sure when, she had sliced open her wrist on a big of wood. A very large splinter had actually been embedded in her arm for…well, she wasn't quite sure how long, but finally she had worked up the guts to pull it out. The thought that had kept her going, the thought that had kept her from screaming until she passed out, or clawing at the walls until her hands were raw, was one of Severus. She figured she must be going crazy, if she was letting herself get lost in lusty memory while imprisoned by who knows who in who knows where. She hoped it wasn't Voldemort himself; hoped that this was just someone's sick idea of a joke. Yeah, right, Hermione, keep telling yourself that. How deluded are you, really? I mean, how often can you keep telling yourself that humans are worth compassion and understanding, when really, all they are really motivated by are want, want, and want.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the door to her cell had opened until an all-too-familiar voice spoke to her.
"It's good to find you well, dear, sweet, Hermione." Lucius Malfoy drawled, lighting a candle near the door.