Procyon Mask - Chapter 2
Nothing was coming up.
Her stomach churned and her body just refused to push anything past her lips besides little dribbles of saliva. She was shaking, hands clutching at the floor, staring at the fireplace in the corner of her eye. The grate that lay over it. Her freedom was so close, yet so far. She could even see the little container of floo powder sitting on the mantle! Just out of reach… like everything else.
After what felt like an hour, but she knew it could have only been minutes she forces her head up. She doesn't have to look far before spotting Barty sitting on a chair, watching her, eyes devoid of emotion.
He was a demon. He had to be. There was no way he was human.
"Are you done with your pathetic display? Get over here."
And those words just cemented her opinion of him. How could he be so heartless? Making her say things like wanting Harry to die… so she can go out in public with him!? A bloody monster disguised as a human? Wizard. Whatever. It didn't matter what she called him when it all boiled down to the same thing.
Hermione forced herself to get up, taking a step forward and then another, unsure how long she would have control of her body. Whenever she gave him a hard time she suspected he would use the imperius curse on her again. She would rather never feel him crawling in her mind like that again, whispering things to her.
She takes a seat in the chair opposite of him.
"Cat catch your tongue? Did I defang my lioness?"
Fuck you.
Hermione bites her tongue so she doesn't speak those words out loud. Instead she parts her lips and mutters, "What did you want to talk about? We're married now. How else were you seeking to traumatize me today?"
Barty chuckles, eyes seeming to flash in the light. "So she does still have a fire within her. Good. I would've been upset if that's all it took to break you."
Her fingers curl into fists on top of her thighs and she glares at him. "Quit playing games with me. You brought me here to use as a source of information to combat the Order, right? Just say what you're going to say so I can leave."
"Alright." Barty leans forward, clasping his hands together. "I forbid you from telling anyone of our marriage. You will not speak my name. I'm going to rewrite your letter so it looks like you were matched with a nobody. You can use that name if you need to."
"And how are you going to do that? The Ministry has a file of everyone's name. The Order could look you up if they notice me acting weird and simply realize you don't exist. They can draw their own conclusions from there without me saying anything."
Maybe she was being stupid, telling him how he could fuck this up, but… she needed to know if it was even possible for her use any of this info against him.
"There's another name in the system I can use from my mother's side of the family. I'll simply use that for the letter. No one in Britain is overly familiar with them. They may know the last name, but they won't know who is living or dead, much less the names of everyone, like they do about the pure-bloods here."
"I… see." So he had thought of everything, so far.
Just how effective was this binding spell? Could she really not say a word to Harry and the others about what had transpired today? What would happen if she tried? Would her throat close up? Would- Barty was speaking again.
"I also forbid you from telling anyone of what happened here. Or will happen here for that matter. What happens in this manor stays here." Like Vegas. "Also… are you paying attention to me?"
"Do I need to pay attention for it to work?"
"No." Hermione closes her eyes, head falling into her hands. "As I was saying, you are forbidden from warning the Order of any movements or plans you hear here. Now, Lucius should be the only one that ever comes by, but if someone else visits while you're here… Hmm, I don't have enough time to give you an example of how to act." Barty leans back into his chair, thinking.
"Good."
He shrugs after a moment. "That one's not as important right now. I'll get to that once you're here for the weekend."
"Weekend?" She was honestly lost in the conversation now. "What are you talking about?"
"The law. It requires us to spend forty eight hours together or rather in the same proximity. We should be able to fulfill this on the weekend, but I'm sure we can stretch it over Monday or Friday if need be. Or you could even visit me on a weeknight if I end up busy that weekend."
"I'm not your cohort, Barty. Don't speak to me as if I am. I'm your prisoner, end of story."
"No. You're my wife."
"I'm fairly certain the wives of pure-bloods aren't usually made to take a binding spell so their husbands can command them however they please."
Barty is silent for an extended time before he speaks again, "Hermione Jean Crouch," The tips of her ears go red when he says her full name. "Stop looking at your hands and look at me when I'm talking to you. Unless you want me to put you back under the imperius curse?"
She quickly raises her head, staring at him, aghast. Was this really going to be the rest of her life? Essentially being imperiod and being threatened with the actual spell until she did whatever he wanted of her? How the hell had this happened? She hadn't been married this morning and then she got that damn letter… Just how could a single letter destroy her life so completely?
"Go fuck yourself."
No sooner are the words out of her mouth that she realizes something else… The law. She is married now. It's… expected of her to attempt to have a child with this… this monster once a month. If that fiasco of a marriage back there was truly going to be accepted by the Ministry.
She takes in a deep breath, her body trembling in rage. Where was her wand when she needed it? She wants to blow him and this manor sky high, pretend nothing ever happened, and go back to her life at school. As if she wasn't being used by the Death Eaters now.
"Are you going to rape me?"
Barty blinks. "Why would I do that?"
She stares at him. He couldn't possibly be that dumb! He couldn't possibly think she was that dumb for that matter. But if he wanted to play dumb…. "Oh, I don't know the fact that the law requires us to have sex once a month now that we're married! I thought you said that marriage was binding."
"It is."
Hermione has to stop herself from smacking her own face, glaring at him instead. "I don't know what crazy world you live in, but I am not shagging you, Bartemius."
"You don't need to right now. We have a whole month until that requirement comes up."
She couldn't believe her ears. He is that fucking stupid! "You have imperioed me into marrying you, you are not imperioing me into fucking you."
"Why would I need to imperio you?"
Hermione has a hard time not rolling her eyes into the back of her head, trying not to lose her own fucking mind and just laugh at the absurdity of her own situation. "I'm married to an actual madman. Barty, do you not know the difference between consensual sex and rape?"
Barty frowns, narrowing his eyes at her. "I'm perfectly aware of the difference. I am simply not understanding why you seem to think the only possibility at the end of the month is me raping you."
Hermione closes her eyes against her own judgement, caught between laughing and crying. This was absolutely ridiculous. "I am not fucking you of my own will ever. End of story. Was there anything else you needed to tell me right now? Or can I go back to school?"
"Hmph." Was he pouting? Better fucking not be. "Yes. I forbid you from leaving Britain unless I am accompanying you. I won't allow you to run away from me."
A shiver crawls down her spine at his words and she forces her own mouth to work, "Do I use the floo to get back?"
"Once you've changed back into your uniform and retrieved your wand. They're still in the hall."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She opens one eye to look at him. "That was a joke."
"I know. I'm not immune to humor, Hermione."
"Great. I'm married to a crazy person that insists he has a sense of humor."
Barty scowls at her. "Go get your clothes, Hermione. And try not to rip the dress when you take it off."
"You might as well get the zipper right now, then."
"Fine." Wait. Hermione slinks back into her chair, eyes wide as Barty gets up and approaches her, tilting his head as he stares down at her. "Could you not be a pain in the ass for two seconds? Let me see the back."
"No."
Barty sighs. "I may be insane, Hermione. But at least I'm not a child. I thought you were more mature than this." Hermione blinks at him, not about to continue this weird conversation. "Get up or I'll imperio you," he growls and Hermione quickly stands up, as annoyed as she is with him, she will take his threats seriously. She supposes it's a good thing he's not threatening to rape her, but she also doesn't know what to make of that entire conversation back there.
She can feel his breath on the back of her neck again, fingers grabbing the zipper and pulling it all the way down, stopping just short of her hips.
"There. You should find the medallion with your clothes still. Use it to come here on the weekends unless I tell you otherwise." Another chain for her to add onto the ever growing list.
"I will." She hates submitting to him, but she doesn't know what else to do. Hermione can try looking at the library when she's back at school for a possible solution to her problem, but she has a sinking feeling she won't find one. Old magic was the hardest to break, steeped in tradition. The way most wizards and witches got past it was simply not using the spell or potion, forgetting about it.
Unfortunately she doesn't have that luxury. The damage has been done.