Frail Wings - 3
I apologize in advance.
"My little lion."
His hand waved her over in a lazy fashion; barely going over his own shoulder even though he was lying down, fingers just curling rather than raising in the air to fall back onto the black sheets. Barty's head fell back against the pillow a moment later, slitted eyes looking at her.
"Move." There was no heat to the word but her neck hurt an instant later and she fell to the floor, knees and elbows feeling as if they were wrapped in flames when they made contact with the stone. She found herself wondering for what must have been the hundredth time: how it was possible that her neck didn't snap when he tugged so harsh and sudden on the chain.
That bloody chain... Hermione could feel her eyes growing wet again and shook her head ever so slightly to get rid of the feeling. She hated it, but she didn't have the time to curse the inanimate object out right now, or the man who held it. Instead she pushed herself back up from the ground and continued until she was standing.
It only took a few footsteps to reach the bed and she practically collapsed ontop of it. The duvet was a lot more comfortable than the bunch of pillows on the floor that she had slept on prior to this. Though she preffered them and rather wished he would have her sleep there instead of next to him. Usually with his arm draped over her, right now he wasn't, and it didn't look like he was about to either.
The lids of his eyes had slid shut the moment she was on the bed. If it wasn't for the so-called necklace around her neck she would slide back off and to the ground. But because of that, because of the chain, she had to stay where she was.
Hermione crawled up the bed slowly to rest her head on the pillow, glaring at the onyx chain that glittered in the flames of the candles. If it weren't for the them she wouldn't be able to see where it was. Not just because the room would be pitch black, but because the blankets were just as dark as the chain, if not darker.
She reached up to tug lightly around the place where the chain was secured against her throat. It was cold against her skin. Just like the gold that decorated her neck in honor of her house, Gryffindor. He seemed to think it was funny, but she didn't find it amusing. That he would use her own home against her like this. To mock her.
"A touch of freedom for one that is not free."
That's what he had said. And then he had laughed at her. She burned at just the memory. At the reminder of her tears scorching a path down her cheeks while he collected each of them into a small vial, whispering something about virgin tears being hot. The chuckling that followed filled her ears now as she stared at him.
Those eyes finally not looking at her anymore, watching her every move when he could. A sick sort of brown in consistency, swirling dark like mud in the depths. It seemed to get darker in the light. The only time she could match his gaze without her gut twisting in disgust was when they first opened. It was then that they were clear; lighter, no hint of the madness that lie within, almost pleasant even. Like caramel.
Her stomach twisted hard and she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop even a pinch of spit from releasing beyond her lips. She closed her own eyes. What she needed was to get out of here. Find a way to get this damn thing on her neck off and get past the walls. Get back to her friends in Hogwarts.
If that calendar in the corner was correct Harry and Ron were starting their fifth year today. She should be there with them. Hermione wasn't even sure why she wasn't. She hadn't done a thing to provoke Barty back at the school. Atleast, she couldn't recall doing anything.
One day she was going to classes, to her ridiculous detention with 'Alastor Moody' for falling asleep at the library, and the next... She was bound and gagged in a closet, a stranger standing over her. A stranger cutting at her skin, drawing out some sound from her lips that she had never before made in anyone's presence, not even herself.
She crossed her legs, clentching her eyes tight to keep those particular memories at bay. Even just thinking about them, the burn it created along her flesh reminded her of what he had done. Something unnatural.
That was something she needed to fix, but Barty didn't have any books in this room or the other one he kept her in when he was away. Whatever spell that would undo it wasn't accessible to her and she couldn't go back like this. Not with her mind telling her one thing and her body telling her another.
Her eyes opened slowly, gazing at him. Probably dreaming about catching and killing her friends. Of delivering Harry to... Voldemort.
She shivered from just thinking the name, fingers curling into the sheet beneath her. Despicable. That's what he was. Along with the rest of the Death Eaters, some of which she could hear patrolling the halls day and night. One had just passed the door ten minutes ago and wouldn't be back around again for another hour.
The dying candles flickered, casting long shadows along the walls, lighting up the edge of that blasted chain once again. Her eyes settled on it. The dark smooth curves of glass that lay against the covers, coiled like a snake on top of it. Not in his hand...
She reached out to curl her fingers along the glass, both hands gripping it and slipping the edge of the leash from the open palm of his hand. Her back was pressed to the headboard in the next instant, hands placed a few feet apart as she tucked the middle under his chain and yanked up in one smooth motion. With a twist of her wrist she had the extra length of the chain wrapped around her arm and she pulled it taut against his neck.
A heady rush seemed to fill her at the feel of the chain in her hands and she glanced down. The adrenaline almost instantly drained from her veins when she saw dark eyes looking back at her. Fingers curled along the chain, pulling at it and she yanked hard on the glass trying to ignore him. The hissing sound spilling forth from his lips.
There was a tugging on her body and she leaned back against the headboard to try and dig into the wood with her back. Her breath was coming hard and fast. She could see the air infront of her barely a second later. White and cold, frost. It was wavering with each breath she took, the cloud her breath came out in changing, it was... becoming solid.
Her eyes widened when the fangs flashed in the dim light just before sinking into her shoulder, before ripping her from the headboard. She was suddenly in the air, shoulder flaring hot even though it felt like ice had pierced through her skin. Her back hit the stone and she coughed, mouth opening and closing for air but finding none and she choked for a moment on nothing, paralyzed. Then air was seeping into her lungs and she coughed again at the sudden sensation of the oxygen coming so fast.
There was a hand on her shoulder and she cried out as she was wrenched up from the ground to hit the wall next. The air was knocked out of her once again and she was coughing and gagging to have her head raised so swiftly it made her vision swim. It took a moment for her eyes to focus. To see that cloud of ice dissipating infront of her and his form beyond it. The fingers squeezed at her jaw and her heart echoed so loudly in her ears that it took her a second to make sense of what he was saying.
"-t you, know-it-all? You want to try that again you bloody mutt?" The grip on her chin tightened and she was sure the skin was already turning black and blue under his fingers. "Look at me!" She raised her eyes at the demand, gaze landing on the dark shadow on his neck. The edges were as smooth as the chain, not a speck of blood anywhere to be seen. If it weren't for the hoarse sound of his voice she would have thought she had dreamed even wrapping the glass around his throat. "At my eyes, not what you did," he snarled, tongue lashing at the side of his mouth.
She jerked back, wincing as her head throbbed when it hit the stone. His eyes narrowed even further, so thin that she thought he intended to cut her with his gaze alone. Barty let out a snarl and let go of her so she crumpled back onto the floor, gaze dropping away from him.
Her whole body felt sore from being thrown around like that and she kept her head down as she made for the pillows on the floor. She was flung back against the ground from a tug on the chain. "Where do you think you're going, little lion? You don't want to fight me anymore? Just going to crawl away like the mudblood you are?" A sharp laugh split the air. "No, you're coming with me," the words were growled right into her ear, sending an unpleasant shiver though her.
There was a pull on her chain and she walked-no, crawled after him, keeping her head down.
They didn't pass anyone in the hallway and she was thankful for that. Atleast there was no one else present to see her like this. No Death Eater and... no one from the Order. She bit down on her lip to keep the whimper in her throat.
A creak of a door made her raise her gaze further up to see where he was taking her. Dark stone with some substance dried on the walls, floor, even the ceiling. A table was in the center of the room, the candles above it lighting the moment he crossed the threshold, pulling her after him. The light only focused on the table though, Hermione couldn't see any further into the room.
She didn't recognize it but the air inside made her stomach curl and her heart was racing, attempting to crawl up her throat.
"Get on the table." Her gaze settled on the wood with similar stains on its surface. What was it? "Don't waste my time."
His words spurned her into action quickly and she raised herself from the ground to get on the wood. "Lie down." She froze at his words, looking over her shoulder at his silhouette in the dark corners of the room. The door swung shut, the sound ringing in her ears and she moved to get off the table with the realization that this was the last place she wanted to be.
Her arms suddenly burned as something coarse wove around them and she hit the surface of the table; head hanging off the edge, arms draped over the front so she could see the rope there that now kept them tied to the legs of the table, her own legs laid flat on the wood against eachother, cool metal slipping around her ankles. Her arms suddenly glowed, what looked like blue flames racing over the skin before disappearing back beneath the flesh.
"That's better, isn't it?" His voice was clear now when he spoke. "Now, what to do with you? Troublesome lion. Let's see..."
The way her heart was beating so loud in her ears she could barely hear his footsteps as he walked around her, never entering her vision. She was looking down at the stone, the dark stains covering it. Dried blood.
Something cold pressed against her back, making a crease when it pressed down and she could feel the metal sliding into her skin. It drew down quickly and she forced her lips to remain sealed, for the itching in her throat to stay there. She felt the blade again, drawing another line adjacent to the first. Her eyes had only widened at the feel though, it was painful. Just painful, nothing else came with it and the cry finally slipped past her lips.
She had wanted that feeling of warmth gone everytime he cut at her skin but not like this. Not in this situation. She tugged at the bonds on her arms, the table rocking only slightly beneath her and she bucked against it, grinding her teeth when the cut flesh on her back came in contact with each other. The blood oozing from the slits to run warm over her skin.
"Stop moving, you'll make me miss." His laughter filled the air and she increased the effort in her struggle. The wood of the table scraped along the stone, like chalk on a blackboard, only scratching at the surface but otherwise still. "Fine, keep at it if you must."
Her back suddenly flared, each cut hit in quick sucession so the blaze of flames licked at the open wounds, increasing the width. Little metal teeth digging into the skin before the whip was pulled back to hit her again within the next second. It tore a scream up her throat each time. The tightly wound leather burning her. It felt like her back was on fire. A raging heat beating at her skin, only to concentrate ever on those first cuts he had made with the knife.
When it finally stopped even her throat was burning from having yelled so loud. It hurt when she moved her jaw that kept bumping into the edge of the table as she fought for breath. Her whole body was sore and he had only hit her back. The wood of the table had chips in it though and they had dug into her legs, stomach, breasts, with each hit. It made her body warm, the blood that flowed from the scratches directly into the table, but her back... Hot, it was still burning with the blood pooling in the wounds to slip over the edge onto her skin, to run down the flesh onto the table.
There was a sickening plop on the ground. The blood was running off the edge of the table to hit the stone and it made her head spin, her stomach twisting on itself as all she could smell in the air was the iron in her blood. All she could hear was it dripping after it had rolled over her skin in an agonizing slow crawl.
The table tilted and she screamed when it made her body flare up again, the friction against her bare skin too much. A hand was on the center of her back and she stilled, now hearing his casual breathing beneath her own that came so fast at times she thought she would choke on the air. Fingers were tracing one of the wounds from where it ended to the place the cut had begun. A corner of the skin was pulled up and she let out a cry when metal slipped through to be followed by thread.
He continued like that for awhile and she forced herself to remain still as the wound was closed up. She screamed whenever the needle fell into the open laceration, struggling when it dug in deep but the hand on her back kept her from moving too much.
With the first done he had moved onto the next and she bit on her lips this time to stop any sound from escaping. When the snip of the scissors sounded she relaxed with the knowledge that it was over and done with. That she-
Hot breath was on her ear, a tongue licking at the helix as he whispered, "Such a delicate fallen angel. You'll stay pristine now, won't you?" His tongue dipped into the canal. "No more duress, these acts of violence of yours. Is that clear?" Teeth bit at the lobe and she felt a tear run down her cheek.
"Yes," she murmured, shivering at the feel of saliva that he left behind on her skin.
"Good, because if you do it again I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with you, my little lion."
He moved away and she felt the ropes on her arms loosen, the constraints falling to the ground. The metal slid over her ankles and the skin thawed a few seconds later in the warm air. The heat from his hand on her back no longer present, allowing it to cool - if only slightly. The blood had dried and was sticking to her skin in clumps that cracked, flecks of it falling around her when she sat up. It reminded her of snow.
There was clang behind her but she didn't dare turn around, just watching each unique flake hit the table. "When I get back-" She almost jumped when he spoke so suddenly. "-I expect you to be in my room. Use the bathroom to clean yourself up and lie in the bed, got it?" She quickly nodded, more flakes falling around her. "Better, if you can't even find the room by the time I get back..." He laughed softly at the end of his suggestion. "We'll see, won't we Hermione?"
Her heart stopped beating, head whipping around to stare at him. His words finally sunk in and she fought to clear her throat before the snap of apparition filled the air. Before he was gone, leaving her to find that room in this maze that other Death Eaters patrolled. "No, plea-"
A whimper escaped her when the space he had once filled was empty. She hadn't even paid a second of attention to the route here. How was she suppose to get back?