Procyon Mask - Chapter 5
Sorry for the wait, kept having things come up, but we'll start rolling again now.
When Hermione wakes up she can still feel his presence in her mind, quiet for now. She blinks, staring at her hand on the duvet, unmoving even though she would like nothing better than to sit up and get away from the body behind her and the heat emanating from it. His arm is casually slung over her waist, not necessarily pulling her into him, but it does keep her in place. Well, it would if he hadn't already put her under the imperius curse.
Even under the spell he sought to rid her of the notion that she was free. Bloody hell, even asleep he made her skin crawl. That's just how effective he was at these mind games, how fast he was assuming control of her life.
And he wanted her to play at being his wife?
He might as well be shoving her face down into a doggy bowl and making her lick up the few scents of freedom she could find. And so far she wasn't finding many.
She longs to curl her hand into a fist, to strike him in the temple or the throat, but instead she just gazes at her open hands on the bed. This… couldn't actually be the rest of her life, could it? How long did he intend on using her? Until Harry was dead? No, he had claimed her afterlife, he wouldn't kill her after Voldemort won. He would keep her around as a trophy, mockingly hiss into her ear about how she caused the downfall of her friends, how she's the one responsible for it all because she hadn't thought to investigate a bloody marriage shackle from the ministry.
She wasn't the smartest witch of her age, she was the stupidest most naïve girl to ever live.
Hermione feels his breath tickle the back of her neck, and she feels a chill run down her entire body when her hair is pulled back from her ear. "Is my little lion awake?"
She wills her mouth to stay closed, but it's no use. No matter how much she screams and tries to escape his grip in her mind her mouth opens. She wanted more time before he started toying with her again, like a human doll, but-
"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't want to wake you." Well, the words he made her say weren't entirely wrong.
"Were you concerned about my sleep?"
"The lack of it." Hermione rolls over, skin shivering at the way his hand moves along her cheek until she's looking into the murky brown depths of his eyes. Disgusting. Like sludge. "You work so hard. I want to make sure you get enough sleep. I couldn't imagine anything bad happening to you if you were sleep-deprived while out doing our Lord's work."
"Well, aren't you just the sweetest thing?"
She smiles brightly, hating herself even though she knows she can't do anything to stop it. "Yup! Sweet like honey and I'm made fresh just for you!"
Her eyes roll in her mind, stomach churning from the words coming out of her mouth. No. Please no. It's like watching a badly written sitcom. She wishes for an instant that she was brain dead so she wouldn't be aware of what he was making her say, of whatever he planned on making her do today.
How long was she going to be stuck under this curse? She was going to yell at him the moment he lifted it, summon her wand and unleash all the hexes she knew until he couldn't get back up. She wanted to put him through some of this mental suffering, but instead… instead...
He was gazing silently back at her, not having responded to the last words that came out of her mouth. His eyes were searching hers. "Hm." Barty sits up, his hand moving from her cheek and she feels the warmth return to her skin there. "Enough idle chit chat for the morning. I did say I would show you how to act today, didn't I?"
Her mouth doesn't open and she breathes a silent sigh of relief even as she sits up in the bed, her eyes never straying far from him. He wasn't going to make her answer such a ridiculous question. Of course she knew what he had said. She just wished she knew what it entailed. Had wished. She wasn't certain what she wanted right now, other than wanting to be anywhere but here with him.
Why on earth had she come to the Crouch Manor last night? Why had she whispered to the medallion to take her to him? Oh, right. So he wouldn't murder her friends and destroy her vision of a peaceful future. So hopefully the Order still stood a chance against Voldemort and his forces even with her twisted around his filthy fingers.
"You have very foul thoughts for a Gryfindor." In her mind's eyes she flinched, all too aware of his presence there. The imperius curse lets him see her wiggle and try to break free of his hold on her body, her mind, to command her. It didn't rid her of the fear of him being a legilimens, though.
A whimper catches in her throat as she tries to make her mind go blank. To stop thinking in case she were to come up with a good plan of getting out of this situation. If he somehow saw it he would just snuff her hope out as fast as he could. Or maybe he would let her think she was onto something and then mock her when her attempts failed, pointing out all the flaws that had been obvious to him-
"Very foul," he murmurs, reaching a hand out to brush his finger along her bottom lip.
She wants nothing more than the ability to bite the offending appendage off and hear him howl in pain.
Bartemius chuckles, pulling his hand away. "Such fire. But no, I'm not a legilimens." Bullshit. Like she was going to believe a word he said. "I'm afraid even under the imperius curse your eyes are very telling. You don't even know how to break the spell yet you're trying so hard… It's admirable, really. The Ministry was right in choosing you for me. I can't imagine myself having a weak demure wife, but it's the way the song is played I'm afraid. Are you ready for the day?"
No. "Yes. Will we be having a picnic? You mentioned wanting one on our wedding day." No, he bloody didn't. He made her say that. "Pleaseee? There's no one here for hundreds of miles. We can go find a clearing in the forest, can't we?" She even hops while sitting in the bed.
Bartemius' lips pull up into a grin. "Not today." You need to learn how to act when Lucius or anyone else is here. Do you understand me, Hermione? Her insides feel cold as his voice crawls through her head once again. It was just like on September the 28th, when he was growling into her mind in between all the whispers. You will answer me when I speak to you.
Her lips part. "Yes, I understand perfectly, Bartemius."
"Uh, uh." He wags his finger in front of her face, mockingly. "You'll call me Barty, my love, or husband. I won't have you keep calling me by the full name my father went by. You may think I'm cruel, but I assure you he would have been worse. If he was still alive and fell into the age range that is. Did you know he kept me under the imperius for nearly half my life?"
She hadn't, but that didn't excuse his actions now. Hermione struggles to answer him appropriately, to get the words from her mind out onto her tongue. "Yes, Bart- my love." Fuck. He made her switch it to the one she hated the most at the last second. Whatever little choice she had over her words was being stripped away.
So much for not wanting a demure wife.
"I did say it was a shame. Get out of bed." Hermione wordlessly rises, the duvet falling from her shoulders and she's thankful she's still wearing her Hogwarts uniform beneath it. As hot and stuffy as she had been from all the layers she was happy he didn't force her into some revealing lingerie. "There's some clothes for you in the rightmost drawer. Go take a shower and put them on afterwards."
"You want me all dolled up, do you?" Hermione bats her eyelashes at him and she swears she's going to puke in his shower.
"I can't have you wandering the house in your school uniform. It's unfitting attire for my wife." Of course it is. But she had grabbed some clothes to wear besides her own uniform. Couldn't she just wear those instead? Where had her suitcase gone?
She finds she's able to open her mouth. "I did bring some clothes myself. Should I not bother bringing them next time?"
"No. Unless I say otherwise you'll dress in what's in those drawers while you're here. Understood?"
"Yes, my love. I'll do whatever makes you happiest." Hermione almost felt like her limbs went limp at her own words. How could he do this to her? Easily, she told herself. He helped torture the Longbottoms into insanity; why not do the same to his wife?
She can feel the curse crawling around her mind, carefully wrapping a cord around each of her limbs. Hermione raises her head to meet Barty's gaze, noting his lips had curled into a frown.
"I'm doing this for your safety, Hermione. If you didn't insist on fighting me I wouldn't have to imperio you."
Liar. He was enjoying this, playing with his Gryffindor doll. He was enjoying telling her things like she never had a choice, that this was her fate, destiny had decided she was to be his wife. That she would betray Harry and everyone else she cared for and… she couldn't even cry out for help.
That had to be the worst part of this. He had sealed away any path that led to her escape. Unless Harry and them figured it out on their own… but she was already helping him to stop that from happening, wasn't she? Having Barty send letters that made everything seem okay was just the beginning. He could add more commands, more rules whenever he wanted. And as far as she knew there was no way for her to stop it from happening.
Hermione merely nods, going to the drawer and opening it, taking out the clothes and walking over to the door that she somehow knew led to the shower attached to their room. And not just some absurdly large closet.
"Come out to the garden once you're done. We can have breakfast before I start instructing you."
Her throat tightens, but her mouth opens away. "I'll try not to be too long. I wouldn't want the food you make to get cold."
Hermione opens the door to the bathroom and steps inside, shutting the door behind her. At least she'll have some quiet time before he's harassing her again.