A lot of people are not going to like this chapter, but I've been building toward this for a while and it's been fairly transparent (I hope). CW: abuse.
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Chapter TextHermione spent most of her time without Draco in the library. Those times were infrequent and the boy joined her in the library more often than not, but other than her bedroom or the bath, it was one of the few places she could ever be found alone.
Draco was off visiting Blaise Zabini, whom she could hardly stand in classes, let alone during her free time. So she had opted to stay and study.
She was deep in a volume of the history of House Elves and their connection with wizarding families when there was a slight prickling at the back of her neck, that eerie feeling of being watched. She resisted the urge to look behind herself or squirm, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Hermione was fairly certain she knew who it was, and ignoring the interloper was the best option.
Of course, some pests refuse to be ignored.
One of Hermione's smokey brown curls rose from its place around her face, twisting and twirling. The girl slowly looked up to see Bellatrix curling it around her finger.
"Cissy really has taught you how to play yourself off like a real lady, hasn't she? All tamed and demure. Hmm?" Mischief glinted in the wild woman's eyes.
"Lady Narcissa has taught me a great deal," she responded evenly. "If you please, I'm studying." She backed away so the lock eased from Bella's pale finger, but the maniac caught it before it could slip away.
"Now don't be rude, mudblood. I just wanted a little chat."
Displeasure coiled in Hermione's chest; before Draco's mad aunt visited, that term had not been said in Hermione's presence in some time. Narcissa did not like it said in her home, and Draco and the boys would jump on anyone who dared use it in their earshot. It had created quite the rift between Draco and some of his previous Slytherin friends.
"I would prefer if you did not use that word." Hermione was proud at how indifferent her voice came out.
Bellatrix grinned, her white teeth flashing brightly in a brightly painted mouth. "What word is that, mudblood?" Her black eyes twinkled at the heat in the brown eyes of her conversation partner. "It's too bad that you're just hired help and I'm family, then, isn't it?"
Gryffindor fury roared through the teen and, before she could think better, Hermione stood so abruptly her chair flung out from beneath her with a stuttered screech. Her wand was in her hand as she faced down the older witch. "You will not call me that."
"You would raise your wand to me?" Bellatrix lifted one black brow, the smile falling from her lips. "Do you honestly think you could hold your own against me, mudblood?"
Hermione's nostrils flared. "I am not without talent."
A hint of crow's feet crinkled as the pale witch's eyes narrowed. Before she could open her scarlet mouth, though, a cold voice cut through.
"Is that so, Miss Granger?"
Hermione went rigid, white knuckling her wand as the unmistakable rhythm of Lucius Malfoy's steps approached. The end of his cane tapped at the robes she had on and she turned obediently, wand hand dropping to her side.
Lucius was not a small man. He easily stood a head taller than her and seemed of an even greater height, his shoulders broad and his appearance immaculate. His white hair was tied back with a silver ribbon and his icy eyes bespoke irritation. With her.
"Did I just hear you threaten our guest?"
Hermione rolled her lips, considering her response. "No, my lord-"
"Really?" She held herself from flinching back. "That is not how it appeared to me when I happened to walk past the library just a moment ago. Imagine my surprise, Hermione-" And here she did flinch. Lucius almost never used her first name. "- when I heard you telling Bella you were, what was it, not without talent? And given your aggressive stance and the words my sister-in-law had just uttered, I am most certain I did not mistake the context. Or am I an idiot?"
The last word was spat out harshly and she knew better than to agree. Instead, she was quite stuck. "I- I'm sorry, my lord."
"It is not only me who needs to forgive you."
Bellatrix rose, a cat staring at a broken canary. "I think she's only sorry she got caught, Lucius."
"I think you may be right, Bella." He pondered the girl coldly, then shook his head. Hermione thought he almost looked disappointed, and guilt churned in her stomach. She'd let her Gryffindor pride get ahead of her. "It seems discipline is in order."
Her eyes widened to galleons. "My lord, please. It was a foolish mistake. I didn't mean- I would never -"
"It was foolish, yes," the man interjected. "And you will thus be corrected. Come, girl. Stand and bend over the desk."
Her face flushed red. It had been years since Lucius had taken a hand to her bottom, most infractions small enough to warrant nonphysical punishment or just a rap of wand across her palms or knuckles (she could never decide which was worse). But she knew better than to disagree. The more quiescent she was, the quicker it would all be done.
As the large man moved beside her, Bellatrix tutted. "She'll hardly feel anything through all of that clothing, Lucius."
"Robes off," he commanded, and Hermione grudgingly did as ordered, neatly folding the deep navy robe on the desk before laying forward once more in her cream dress.
"Skirt too, mudblood," purred Bellatrix.
Hermione bolted back up. "Absolutely not!"
A hand pressed at her back. "Get back down." The words were bitingly harsh and she slowly lowered her front half once more.
"I will not lift my skirt," she grumbled as she laid her cheek on the wood of the desk, head turned away from her guardian. "It isn't appropriate."
"I will be the judge of that," Lucius responded evenly. "And it was Bella whom you wronged. I think she is entitled to an opinion on your correction." He shifted and she saw the dark haired woman nod. The weight of her skirt lifted and a slight draft wound its way over her exposed bottom. Hermione pressed her lashes shut, tears of mortification sticking them together.
Her knickers were blue, simple. At least she wasn't wearing something particularly childish today. And how fortunate that she disliked the idea of thongs or other minimal undergarments.
Lucius was standing over her, shifting in what she imagined was discomfort. One large hand rested weightedly on the small of her back and the other lifted in the air.
"Wait," came Bella's silky voice. "She threatened my life, Lucius."
Silence.
"Use the cane."
A strangled sound wormed out of Hermione's throat, eyes popping open, and she tried to rise again. But Bella waved her wand and the girl was stuck in place. She couldn't even kick her legs.
"Ten strokes?" said the man.
"I suppose," replied the witch.
The teen closed her eyes once more, scrunching her face as she tried to prepare for the impact, but nothing could have readied her enough. The thin black cane whipped through the air and hit upon her skin with a sharp whack!
Heat bloomed a blink later, right along the line beneath her buttocks. She gasped at the searing pain, breath forced from her body in shock.
The second stroke whistled and whipped, just slightly crossing the first. She thought she would cry, the pain sharp and white hot and making her toes and fingers curl in what little movement her body was allowed.
By the fourth, tears of pain and mortification streamed down her cheeks.
Seven finally forced a scream out of her, and by eight she had thrown off the curse keeping her still. She arced rigidly at the ninth and Lucius had to lay his forearm across her back, leaning his weight into her.
"Keep still ," he hissed. His elbow was digging into her, but it was nothing to the heat of the cane. He held her there until she stopped fidgeting and only then brought down the final stroke.
Hermione collapsed onto the table, the tension leaving her body as she realized the ordeal was over, skirt drifting back over her thighs. She was just managing to hold back full-throated sobs, instead pathetic little whimpers coming out, hopefully too soft to be heard.
"You will never threaten anyone in my family again, is that understood?"
She blinked through the tears to see Lucius had lowered himself to stare directly into her eyes. His face was stern.
"Well?"
Hermione nodded succinctly.
"Good. Then we should never have to repeat this experience." He murmured a cleansing charm for his cane and stalked toward the door. "Come, Bella. Leave the girl be. I feel the sudden need for brandy."
Bellatrix's black eyes shone as she watched the girl silently cry, hesitantly tearing away from Hermione. "That sounds delightful." She glided to him and slipped a dainty hand on Lucius' arm. "I'll see you at dinner, mudblood."
When they finally left, Hermione scurried to her room, making sure no one saw her on the way. She threw herself on her carefully made bed and tugged the drapes around it closed before curling into a ball.
There in the dark, close comfort of her bed, she broke into throaty, whole-body sobs. Her lower body, especially her backside, throbbed with heat.