Authors Note: Bad news everyone!
Un-betaed chapter!
Answering questions and request time!
Let's
start with the flames. They take the most time. And so you know- this
is the only time I answer to them; from now on, all flames will be
ignores (because I'm too lazy to answer to them).
Cryin´out
Loud (if you read this): Well, sooooooorrrry if I had to keep
Hermione pretty for the story to work. And you really expect her to
get just get taken like that? Hmm? I don't think so.
And no - no shagging! Ew, ew ew, ew! He´s a fictional character and almost as old as my father. Now I have disturbing mental images. MY VIRGIN EYES! Oh- and I really like the " She slices and dices". Can I use it somewhere?
Coral 717: Erm... thank you? Your opinion is interesting and yes, I might need a dictionnary. AND WHAT IS THIS HABIT OF WANTING LUCIUS TO SLEEP WITH HER? Did I say they had sex? No, really? Have I said they had sex? NO! Sweet Jesus! Control your over crazed libidos! STOP IT WITH THE SEX! Oh yea, and malleable in French means soft and pliable. Clay is malleable. I like that word.
True characterization is important, but like I said before, I write this directly from my head. I twist the people to be like I need them to be. But you can see characters in different angles. I don't think Lucius is power crazed like most people do. This my interpretation of him.
If people are scared, or very anxious about something, their hair can turn white; why couldn't hair show anger then? Its more of a metaphor. You can hold your head in a position that suggest anger. I have tendencies to see things like that (no, I'm not prone to hallucinations. Wait, actually I am) Besides, I'm bad in physics. Real bad.
The "beat the crap out of" was sort of misplaced, true. I needed something sounding like that and I couldn't find an alternative so I put there then.
Erm, I think I pointed out the fact that if you drank the everlasting potion with Polyjuice, it started a chemical reaction that poisoned you.
Your critique is very nice because it shows you think my story is serious. Thank you!
Ok- time for the nice people! You are all sooooo nice and I always want to update the whoels tory at once but well… Cannot really do it since I re-work some things all the time.
Sarah:
What? Me? Offended? A bit maybe, but honestly, you are right.
Author's using such techniques to have reviews is degradation. No
worries, no insult taken. BUT - true, review waiting is hell. But oh,
better to receive true reviews than some people just write in
irritation at you so they could have the continuation of the story.
Riley Black: I know it's choppy! I know! That's why I usually double update, but this story don't really work that way. I'm trying to update quickly so the choppiness wouldn't be such a burden. And I'm trying to write more. (First 13 chapters are all about 4-5 pages long).
MizSatie: Bwahaaaha! I can assure you than more freakniess is going to start soon.
Enchantedlight. My faithful reader and reviewer! Updaaaate!
WhoGirl:
YEAAAAAH! THATS THE WAY (uh-huh, I like it - uh huh. Random Bee-Gees
moment)! YOU, BE PROUD!
Izabella black: Thank you for all your reviews! I'll post soon two news chapters in "Never Go To Bed Angry Stay Up And Fight".
Someonelse : Character depth ? I like that! Thank you very much! I like your review because you tell what you like about it. Very nice! Thank you!
Perilous : Is my story the first Lucius/Hermione you ever read? Oh là là! I am very flattered! I have the responsibility of making it a good experience for you.
Lone Angel: You flatterer you! You are a good writer as well. Actually, I'm thinking of writing a story but I would need another writer for it. Interested?
hotskittlesFinally an update ! Sorry for taking so long !
Mitch 404: WHOA! You impress me! Thank you SO much.
Fortune the Vamp: Happy birthday to youuuu… happy birthday to youuu… Sorry for updating so laaaaate, Happy birthday to youuuu! C'mon, special dedication time! FOR YOUR SWEET SIXTEEN! (yeah- there is a point in flattering me: more chapters and quicker updates and longer chapters)
Sirael:Your wish is my demand. More descriptions ahoy! You're right: the day of the attck was funny and warm, but the ground was wet because it had rained the night before. Lucius has shocking smililarities with some brat! The story is going to be quite stagnant from here on; until the next (nasty) shock I have in store for you! Soory i haven't mailed you- my exam week is finally over. And I agree very much with you: athmosphere and desciptions are important.
WHOA! Two pages of Author's Notes. It's wierd to re-read chapters I wrote some months ago. The story has evolated quite a lot. Thanks for the reviews and you know they make me write more! Special thanks for those who have reviewed! And if you review very much tonight, you might even recieve the following chapter as a bonus!
My Dirty Little Secret.
Victor Hugo once said:" Masterpieces are like wolfs; they don't eat each other up".
Art didn't eat up art; but people, mites, dust and moisture did. Therefore, Lucius had a special designed place in the Manor to keep his masterpieces. The Manor was a masterpiece in itself: the architecture of it was unique.
The Manor had been built 1846 by Zephyr Malfoy. The outside was made out of pink greyish stones; there were big windows all around the house as well as balconies and small pointy towers. The windows were all framed in some vegetation or other; there were made so that people could look inside the house.
When you walked inside the Manor, you couldn't miss the odd tower that was inside the house. It as if someone wanted to build a tower but decided to hide it into a pink, posh, dandy Manor. The Tower was made out of dark granite and when the sun was shining through the massive windows, the tower gleamed because of the incrusted micas in it.
The inside of the tower was the heart and the brain of the house. There wasn't one single staircase in the tower; the ground was inclined so you could go upwards. The tower granted entrance to each part of the Manor and had small windows here and there so you could spy on people.
But there was still another tower in the tower. Technically, it didn't exist, but some very well placed charms and transformations had created seven large rooms in the tower. The top one was at the top of the roof, giving a spectacular view if you could reach out to see through the windows that were placed very high up.
This tower inside the tower was called the dungeon, and it was here Lucius stocked his most treasured pieces of art. There had been some problems of course. One part of the tower had to be restored so that animals could live there. Lucius had tried to transform another room into a garden, but it didn't really work as well as planned.
In the end he just started to decorate the rooms and stored up his pieces of art. He changed the places of the objects more than once. To an outsider, the rooms would have looked like someone would have shoved in together things that had no other similarity than their prettiness. Lucius collection was like those ones old grannies made; only instead of collection porcelain cats, Lucius had a full-blown scale of things so beautiful and priceless you couldn't understand how he could hide them away from the world.
As he walked into to the Malfoy Manor, Lucius didn't even hesitate to put Hermione in the dungeon, in midst of his treasures. She belonged there. He knew she wouldn't destroy anything.
She fitted perfectly in the image. She just emanated that little thing that made her glow in a certain, psychic way.
The girl had sobbed his robes damp, and it was now Lucius most treasured memory. The blood sticking to his arms, the scent of her, a mix of vanilla and sweat, and also something sweet, the odour of young pretty girls. And something, a fragrance that belonged to her. All this was now printed in his memory. He would never ever forget this wonderful feeling.
She had cried herself to sleep.
Poor, poor little girl. She had an exhausting day today.
Lucius tidily tucked Hermione under the silken covers of a princess bed that was in the middle of the room. Lucius had instructed the bed to be covered in white satin sheets. White fitted with every colour, or at least it fitted girls.
But Lucius noticed his big mistake as the sheets started to become red from the wounds on her legs.
Hermione would surely be highly embarrassed to discover this the following morning. Lucius made it sure the covers were changed (and stored in another room where Lucius could later go and touch the blood of his newest beauty).
The man sat down on a comfortable chair next to the young girl's bed. He sighed and passed his fingers though his hair as he watched the girl sleep.
Poor him. As soon as he got something, some one else want it too and destroy it.
Lucius knew the Kivukone dagger of Bellatrix well, because he had given it to her husband as a wedding present. Obviously, that bloody lunatic psychopath had taken quite a like in it.
Bloody bitch.
Bellatrix would be that soon: bloody. Very so. Covered for once in her own blood.
Lucius wondered for a moment if he would creep under the covers with Hermione. He decided against it. When Hermione would wake up next morning, she might jump to conclusions.
No, better play it safe.
Lucius hid away his wand, fetched every healing potion he had, bandages and a blanket, and installed himself on the chair to sleep over the night
He couldn't sleep that night. He slumbered, half-awake, eyes half open to watch the form on the girl in the bed.
The girl was agitated, and wailed in the bed. Lucius had walked to her three times during the night, and patted her forehead reassuringly. The girl had relaxed almost immediately under his touch, but as soon as he left, she started whimpering again.
Lucius shivered; wanting badly to join her in bed. She responded well to him. But he knew better than that. God only knew how she might misinterpret that gesture. But make no mistake, he was planning to climb in bed with her soon; he'll just give her some time to get used to him.
Dawn had time to rise over the Malfoy Manor before Hermione woke up. Lucius hadn't minded a bit. He had relished the shadows and the light creeping over the girl's face.
Hermione woke up because her knees were paining her. She hadn't passed out; she remembered everything clearly, she remembered each and every detail of what happened the night before.
Therefore, she knew that she was kidnapped, maimed, and held prisoner by Lucius Malfoy who considered her as a gift. Lucius Malfoy who born the same day as her…
This made Hermione wake up definitely. The girl tried to sit up, but the pain in her legs made her fall back again on her back. The bed was soft and smelled wonderfully clean, yet Hermione would have gladly traded her wonderful bed against the lumpy hard mattresses that there were in the Hogwarts' infirmary.
Lucius snapped out from his reverie and inched carefully towards the bed. He walked slowly, just as if she was a scared kitten. His hands were slowly drawn out; he looked blind, searching his way to her. He touched gently the bed and walked closer all the time. He finally fell down on his knees and planted his eyes on Hermione's eyelids.
Hermione tightened the covers around her. She regretted wearing so revealing cloths. She should have worn a pair of ugly pants, a virginity belt, a nun's robe, anything to be ugly. She felt so stupid, so small, so vulnerable. He could truly do everything he wanted with her, and she couldn't fight back.
Lucius bend quickly down, Hermione covered her face with her arms. But as she saw the little metallic box with a red cross on it, she lowered slowly her hands. Hermione checked the bottles that were in the box, and nodded as she saw the bandages.
She was about to bend down to take a white bottle with 'Antiseptic' marked on it, as the pain made itself apparent again. She couldn't hold back a cry. She had thrown her head back, and tried to blink away her tears before she watched down again. To her horror, she saw Lucius's hands creeping closer to the covers she kept against her.
One aggressive movement tore the fabric from her hands, leaving her in her blue dress. Lucius bend forward, resting his elbows on her bed. Hermione shifted her legs, bending them into the lotus position.
Yet Lucius's hands took a steady grip on her legs, and slowly started spreading them. Whilst he did this, very slowly and delicately not to hurt her, his face approached her groin, watching her with playful eyes.
Hermione swore to herself that she would prefer to kill herself or faint than receive any form of sex from that man. To her surprise however, the man butted her down on her back with his head. He pushed her down to the bed, and slowly climbed on the top of her.
Hermione's heart beat very quickly; her eyes started to deform things around her, her breath was erratic: she was going to faint. Yet she kept herself awake; she refused to be a limp doll.
She was very surprised and his hands took her roughly by her sides and turned her around quickly. She smelt the faint odour of a disinfectant, and bit into a pillow soon afterwards.
He was cleaning her wounds. She guessed she had to be grateful for that. God only knew what kind of diseases and infections she might caught with her wounded knees. Besides, she knew, like the whole wizarding world, of Lucius's mysterious disease. He might infect her with it.
The pain was unbearable. She hoped to pass out, yet she didn't. She couldn't help but to try to kick and scream as she felt her skin being ripped and nipped off; her knees were on fire. Her captor (she refused to dignify him with a name) was doing a very good job actually. She knew how much she had to suffer: the wounds had to be re-opened and then cleaned, then smeared in some potion or other. But as soon as the pain was there, Hermione panicked a bit more.
She had tried to kick, yet her leg was limp. Her leg felt nothing. NOTHING at all. Hermione tried to calm down, but as soon as she breathed normally, another potion was poured on her wounds, making her cry again. The pain tried to drain her thoughts, yet Hermione fought against it by biting into the pillow she hugged in her arms. Her hair started to get wet with perspiration, and Hermione felt ready to throw up.
She thought she heard a distant voice, yet she didn't want to concentrate on it. The voice was sweet and smooth, yet too liquid and honeyed to be pleasant. It reminded her of Draco Malfoy's and Snape's voice. She somehow registered the voice, letting a word or two pierce through her cloud of pain and thoughts.
'I cannot move my feet because I'm in so much pain; it's only temporal'.
Yet after the pain was dulled and her legs wrapped in clean bandages, she still couldn't move her legs. Hermione tried to convince herself that it was only due to the chock or the drugs she received.
Yet as she felt her captor poke her foot, she knew it.
She knew it. It was a feeling similar to the worst childhood memory she had. When little, there had been a stray cat living on her street. It obviously liked Hermione, and it always let Hermione and her parents pet it. The Grangers always left food for it on the porch. It gave in return a whole variety of dead critters as a thank you.
It started to come in to the house. It even napped on Hermione's bed each week end. But one day, when Hermione walked home from school, she felt a horrible feeling in her stomach. She knew something had happened to her cat. And it was true: a car had driven over her beloved cat.
It had been traumatising for Hermione. And she knew she was never going to fully recover from this shock either: she was paralyzed.
Her legs from the knee down couldn't move. She was a cripple; it was impossible for her to ever walk, run or dance again. She couldn't stop this times her tears. This time she welcomed the darkness that invaded her. But in the last moment she held herself back to fall down in the darkness.
He was still on the bed, and his hands flopped her around. She was now on her back again, unable to do anything. His face was approaching hers now. Alarmingly fast.
Ta-Ta-DAAA! Cliffhanger! I know you hate me now! But c'mon, review, review! Try to guess just what Lucius is going to do.(Very predicatble).(At least for me)