Author's Note: I'm so, so, so excited for part 2 of the Deathly Hallows coming out tomorrow! Sadly, I can't make it to the premiere, but I'm watching it in the evening. I hope they didn't change too much from the book…
I originally wasn't going to post this week because I have a stat midterm next Wednesday (and I'm very, very stressed out as a result), but I decided to go through a few old chapters.
Chapter 33
It's still so cold…
Damn it.
If I can feel the cold, that means I'm still alive.
How long have I been unconscious?
I shift a little to place my weight on my legs, and my arms scream in pain. I look up and see trails of dried blood starting at my wrists and coming down toward my face. I open my mouth wide and feel the cracking of the dried blood on my cheeks.
Malfoy.
I was tortured by Malfoy and visited by Voldemort himself. How… how could I possibly matter that much? Suddenly Malfoy seems much more of a threat. What if he's only pretending to betray Voldemort? What if he's doing it on Voldemort's orders?
But he didn't tell the Death Eaters anything about our counterattack to save Nottingham. No, that could simply have been a ploy to gain our trust.
I shudder at the memory of kissing him. And I've had more dreams about the two of us…
God, and I thought that I could possibly start to trust him.
Then the cell door swings open, and four Death Eaters enter. I take a deep breath, glaring at them, and steel myself for the Cruciatus Curse—they must know now that that's one of the only curses that will make it past the mysterious golden charm around my neck.
And now I have another argument to add to the cacophony in my mind. Malfoy gave me this necklace to protect me. Why would he do that if he's working for Voldemort? It'd be very difficult for them to catch me if they couldn't hurt me. I'm sure that I could have escaped from the building where we were keeping Rowle if they hadn't caught Lupin and threatened me with him.
"Well, well, looks like Mudblood Granger met a pretty sticky end," one of them says.
He seems to be the leader of this group—the others all stand a little behind him.
"You'll all meet sticky ends too, when I get out of these chains," I snarl.
"Oh ho, I'm so scared now," he says mockingly.
I recognize that voice. I've heard him taunting people before. He's…
"Montague?"
"You remember me," he says, sounding surprised. "Well then, there's no point in this awful mask now, is there?"
He removes his mask, and the three men behind him follow suit. I hardly remember their names, but I know they were all on the Slytherin Quidditch team at some point. The two bulkiest were beaters, Derrick and Bole. I can't remember what position the last man played, or his name. But I remember the way the green Quidditch robes looked on them.
"Get on with it," I say.
Montague grins. "So, you want to get out of those chains, do you?"
I don't respond.
"Okay," he says. He points his wand at me. "Imperio."
A light sensation comes over me, and I look around the cell curiously. Then the shackles around my wrists and ankles open up, and I let my arms drop to my sides. I look at the four huge men standing between me and the exit. I couldn't possibly escape wandless. And I don't have to. I can stay here forever.
No. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here. I have to get out.
Then I hear a voice in my head. Take off those robes.
I start to unbutton the robes, but I pause and pull my hands back.
Why should I? No. No, I don't want to. I'm not wearing anything underneath.
I'm under the Imperius Curse. I can fight it.
But it'd be so much easier to just listen. I rather like that floating, carefree feeling.
No! There will be no submitting to these Slytherin buffoons.
Just take them off, the voice insists.
My hands move toward the button again, and I'm barely able to stop myself.
I've done it before. I can throw this off.
The light feeling leaves me, and suddenly everything—the unrelenting cold, the pain in my wrists, the ache from yesterday's torture—returns in piercing clarity.
I lunge wildly for the door, but Derrick and Bole shove me backwards, and I fall back on the ground. I feel so weak. How long have I been chained up here?
"Crucio!"
I'm stabbed from all sides.
I don't know who cast the curse, but it doesn't seem to matter anymore.
Pain.
I fall to the ground, writhing in pain.
How many sessions of torture will I have to endure?
Pain.
Why won't they just kill me?
The pain leaves me, and I feel a surge of pride. I didn't utter a sound.
As I curl up into a ball on the ground, I hear them laughing.
Then, as soon as it stopped, the pain resurges, and I'm rolling around in agony again. I clench my teeth, refusing to let any sound escape my lips.
I pray that these bastards can't focus all the pain in one place like Malfoy can. I don't know how much more of that sort of torture I can take.
Every second feels like a year.
Please let this end soon.
Please, please, please…
And then the curse is lifted again.
I gasp sharply, pulling much-needed air into my lungs.
"You haven't—even said—what you wanted—from me," I pant.
Montague laughs. "Nothing but your silent obedience," he says.
And then I hear that blasted word again.
"Imperio."
The carefree feeling settles over me once again, and the pain seems to seep right out of my limbs, leaving me relaxed and content. I lift myself into a sitting position and look up at the men. They're all laughing. Are they laughing at me?
Of course they are. I'm their puppet. I have to fight this.
His voice is in my head again. Look at me, Granger. I'm your master. Now be a good girl. Stand up and take those robes off.
I want to fight, but I feel exhausted. It's so, so, so much easier to just do what I'm told.
And I want to please my master, don't I?
No, no, no, no! He is not my master!
But my body seems to move of its own accord, and before I know it, I'm on my feet, undoing the button that holds my robes together. The light cloth slips from my shoulders and pools around my ankles.
The men stare at me hungrily, but somehow it doesn't bother me.
How can it not bother me? I try to force myself to move, but my body isn't taking orders from me anymore. Back away. I want to back away. Why am I not moving?
I see that Montague is now sitting in a chair that he conjured for himself.
God, no. Please.
Come here, little lioness. Come and unbuckle my belt.
I manage to shake my head and force my feet to stay firmly planted on the ground. A look of discontent crosses his face, and he points his wand at me.
I buckle under the Cruciatus Curse and fall to my knees, leaning forward until my forehead touches the ground. I clench my jaw tightly, surprised that I haven't ground my teeth to nubs already. I topple to the side, curling up as though it'll help me hide from the pain that's clawing at me from inside and out.
I'm released from the pain, and the same light, untroubled feeling fills my mind.
It's just so much easier to obey.
If you just listen to me, I won't do that again. You don't want it to happen again, do you?
I shake my head automatically. Under the influence or not, I don't want to be tortured again.
Now be a good girl. Come to me.
My legs take me toward him. My mind is hardly functioning anymore.
His intentions are clear enough without sending direct orders into my head, and when I reach him, I kneel on the chair over his lap, straddling his hips.
Oh, fuck. What am I doing?
Horrified, I start to back up, but one of his arms loops around my waist, pressing me toward him. I turn my head away from his.
Just relax.
Without my consent, my body starts relaxing into his arms.
No! No, no, no! I feel as though I'm stuck in my mind, having a temper tantrum, but my body won't do a thing that I want it to.
Then my fingers are opening up his pants and pushing down the zipper. There's an obvious bulge in his briefs, and I lift myself up on my knees to push his pants and shorts down, releasing his erect member.
Oh, Merlin, I'm going to puke.
But even that is something I can't control. My body won't even respond as it normally would. Fuck!
I feel more aware than ever that three pairs of eyes are watching, and I tense my legs up.
I won't let this happen to me. I will not participate in my own rape.
This isn't happening. God, please tell me this isn't happening.
Come down, little lioness. Nice and slow. You're going to fuck me, and you're going to love it. Don't you feel yourself getting wet? So, so wet for me. You'll scream for me like the filthy little whore you are.
Despite my best efforts, my legs start to weaken, and my body temperature spikes up in response to his demand for my arousal.
I start to feel like I can't breathe. I force air into my lungs and clench my quadriceps, even as wetness begins to creep down the inside of my legs. I won't budge. He can't make me. He can't.
His wand pokes my chin.
"Do you need one last lesson in obedience, Granger?" he says maliciously.
Then the cell door bangs open, and all four Death Eaters are distracted. I immediately try to shove myself away from him, but Montague recovers too quickly and tugs me back to him.
Then the chair Vanishes.
Montague crashes to the ground, but I remain floating in the air. Soft, light material covers me, and I look down to see that the robe I had discarded earlier is wrapped around me again. I'm set down gently on my feet, and I step back shakily.
"What the fuck did you four think you were doing?"
I never thought that I would ever be so grateful to hear Malfoy's voice.
"M—Malfoy, we were only—" Bole begins.
Montague is already on his feet, with his pants back on. "What right do you have to be here, Malfoy?" he barks.
Malfoy looks at him and says calmly, "Granger is my prisoner. You should know better by now. No one touches my prisoners without permission. Are we clear, Graham?"
"Since when was she yours?"
"I was here with the Dark Lord yesterday. Didn't the sentries give you a heads up? Oh right, I forgot. You offended them a few days back, didn't you? I suppose they wanted to put you on my bad side." Malfoy clicks his tongue. "You had better watch your tongue, Graham. It'll get you into trouble."
"Stop calling me by my first name. You have no right."
"Well, I do, Graham, and you will respect my nephew."
Now that is one voice that I will never, ever be glad to hear. Bellatrix Lestrange steps into the room, and all four of the Death Eaters who were torturing me stiffen slightly. I suppose I can be reasonably grateful for the effect she has on them.
"I didn't know you were here, Ma'am," Montague says.
"Do you think my absence excuses your actions?"
"No, Ma'am."
Malfoy jerks his head toward the exit. "Get out of here."
Montague has on a murderous look, but he leaves the room without complaint, followed by his three cronies.
Then Malfoy is addressing me. "Mind getting back into those shackles for me, Mudblood?"
For one crazy moment, I consider making a mad dash for the exit. But between Malfoy and Bellatrix, there is no way for me to escape.
I back up a few steps and place my feet back in the shackles. Malfoy flicks his wand, and they clamp around my ankles. He motions for me to lift my arms, and I do so quietly. The shackles close around my wrists again, and despair fills me.
I'll never leave this place, will I?
"My, my, she's so obedient to you, Draco," Bellatrix comments, amused.
Malfoy doesn't reply to his aunt, instead stepping toward me. "Are you ready for day two?" he asks, smirking.
"As ready as you are," I reply.
He's not wearing his mask today, so I can see his face. Yet still, I can't see through to him. I can't tell which side he's really working for.
"Get on with it then, Draco, I don't have all day," Bellatrix says impatiently.
He backs up a step, and for a split second, I see a clear apology in his eyes. Then his eyes turn back into cold metal, and I brace myself.
He goes straight for my head this time, and my thoughts immediately fly out the window.
Blinding pain.
Mind-numbing.
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Someone's screaming very, very loudly.
I realize that the enormous ache in my head is finally gone and that the loud wails are coming from me. I clamp my mouth shut. My eyesight slowly returns to normal. Malfoy comes into focus, and then Bellatrix. She appears to be saying something to him, but everything sounds slurred to me. With great effort, I begin to make out the words.
"…I saw it in your eyes, Draco. Don't deny it."
"Look at me, Aunt Bella. Look into my eyes—my mind," Malfoy says. "I don't care about this Mudblood at all."
Malfoy's trying to convince his aunt… that he doesn't care about me. Then that must mean Bellatrix thinks he cares about me. Why? He was just torturing me!
"I know that I've trained you well," Bellatrix says with a small smile.
The expression looks extremely foreign on her face.
"If you really don't want me to see something," she continues, "I'm sure you can hide it quite well by now."
"Fine. If you're that convinced that I care about her, why aren't you summoning the Dark Lord?"
"Because that you are my nephew, and my favorite student. And there is still one way to remedy the situation."
"What is it?"
Bellatrix looks at me. "Kill the girl."
What? No, please don't. But on second thought, if I had a choice between torture and death, I might welcome death. Whatever it is that Malfoy does to me simply hurts too much.
"If she dies on my watch, the Dark Lord will have my head," Malfoy says.
"And you claim not to care for her," Bellatrix says softly.
She spins around to point her wand at me, and in her eyes, I see none of the tenderness that I heard in her voice.
"Well then, if you don't care about her, I suppose this won't matter. Sectumvasculus!"
I feel a sharp pain in the side of my neck.
The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is Malfoy's cry.
"Nooooo!"
Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger, I'll try not to keep you waiting too long before the next part. There are still some kinks to be worked out because I reorganized a bit.
I made up "Sectumvasculus", sort of as a tribute to Sectumsempra. You'll find out the effect of the spell in one or two chapters.
As always, please review! (: