Song Suggestion: Kanye West- "Runaway"
-Kudos to canucklehead (ao3) for recognizing the importance of the first Christmas gift from Titus. I have Easter eggs everywhere.
-Should I start selling Team Titus/Team Draco shirts lol?
-I will have to take next Sunday off. Next update will be October 16th.
As always, a big thank you to MyPrivateInsanity for editing!
Trigger warnings will be posted at the bottom of the chapter for those that need it.
Grown-up Muggleborns
"I can't believe he's letting me go, especially with all the pureblood men there." Hermione stood before the hall mirror— an enchanted one that sang compliments— and completed the last swipe of her dark red lipstick.
"Well, Malfoy is still in France at his Chateau, visiting his cousins." Theo brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder. "That seems to be the only one Titus is truly worried about." He gave a short laugh, as if just thinking of something. "Malfoy will be livid once he finds out."
"You're so handsome, Theodore," the mirror crooned. Hermione rolled her eyes. The mirror never gave her compliments like it did the men. She suspected it might have a crush on the Nott brothers.
Malfoy's absence did disappoint her, but it didn't take away her excitement. They were going to a birthday party at Gregory Goyle's sea-side castle. She'd get a change of location and an opportunity to see Katie, who she hadn't seen since before the Christmas holiday.
Hermione walked out of the room, holding Theo's arm, wearing her favourite dress— black velvet with tiny silver stars dotted across the fabric in the shapes of various constellations. The sleeves were a puffy fabric, billowy and see-through. When she'd bought it two years before, it had hung past her knees, but she must have grown, because it hit a few inches higher, and it clung tight to the curves of her body in a way it hadn't before.
For the first time in her entire life, Hermione felt like an adult. Not a little kid playing dress up.
She walked down the main staircase, still holding onto Theo, but he stopped mid-step.
Titus waited at the bottom of the staircase in his dress robes. The sight of him made her stomach clench with nerves. She'd been avoiding him since Christmas, still angry over what he'd said to her. Despite that, she wore the universe he gave her, tied around her throat.
Titus turned, eyes landing on her, swiping up and down, lingering on her legs. He straightened as if hexed. One of his hands reached out and touched the bannister. A blush crept up her neck at the intense inspection.
"Absolutely not." He shook his head. "Go change."
"Don't tell her what to do," Theo said. "Why are you in dress robes?"
Titus frowned, glaring at his brother, adjusting his cufflinks with an irritated tug.
"Goyle Sr. is having a few head aurors and ministry employees over to approve the plans for the muggle work camp being built."
"Fine," Theo sneered. "Just stay out of my way. I'm going ahead. I'd take you with me, Hermione, but I sense Titus is about to be a tyrant."
They both watched Theo walk down the staircase, shoving past Titus and then headed toward the floo. He grabbed a handful of powder and disappeared inside, leaving the two of them alone.
"Muggle work camp?" She asked.
A chill crept up her spine, but Titus rolled his eyes.
"A voluntary work camp. We give them a wage and rations. It's nothing to concern yourself with." He looked her up and down, lingering on her legs again. "What you do need to concern yourself with is a dress change."
"I thought I looked just fine."
"You look beautiful," he said as if to placate her. "But you're showing too much skin to be appropriate, and it's way too tight."
An odd rage filtered through Hermione.
"I spent hours designing my whole look around this dress. I'm not changing."
He looked a little shocked at her outright refusal. She'd never told him no like this.
"What's gotten into you lately? You'll wear something else if you want to go. You have a whole wardrobe full of dresses to choose from."
The fury rose higher. Magic simmered at the tips of her fingers.
"I'm an adult now, capable of making my own decisions. So I am going, and I refuse to change. If you want me to wear something else, you'll have to rip this dress off me."
She regretted saying it like that.
A shudder ran through Titus, and he froze, his dark gaze heavy, sliding along her skin as if he was contemplating doing exactly as she suggested.
"Is that so? You think you're old enough to make your own decisions when it comes to safety? I thought you didn't want to enter the Trials." He took a step forward, feet near the stairs. "Because grown-up muggleborns spend their nights in a wizard's bed. Is that what you're wanting to do?"
The way he emphasised the word nights made her body tingle— a mixture of caution and sudden arousal.
Hermione no longer knew what category she fell into. No longer a child, but not quite old enough for her life after the Trials. Her relationship with Titus had morphed into something else without her understanding what it meant, and she chafed under his overbearing protection.
"If you make me change, I'll hate you again for a very long time."
He flinched but didn't waver.
"Nothing new. I think I can stomach that if it means keeping you safe."
Her anger suddenly wrung out, knowing it would lead her nowhere.
"Don't stop me from going. I thought I looked respectable in this. Only my knees are showing for Merlin's sake. I know I lied to you about the fireworks, but why don't you trust me?"
He tilted his head to the side and seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. then his face smoothed, and he loosened his hands, as if deciding something.
"You're right, Sprite. It's time we go." He held out his hand to the floo, telling her to walk, which she did, stomping down the stairs. But when she tried to walk past him, he grabbed her by the waist and tugged her back against his hard chest. She almost lost her balance, but he kept her upright and leaned down, letting his warm lips rest against the shell of her ear. "Just a warning—since you're an adult now— if any of those wankers touch you, I'll slice off their fingers. Anything more, and I'll scatter their body parts around Diagon Alley."
Her stomach tumbled to her toes, thinking about Draco and what Titus would do to him if he found out even a fraction of what they'd done.
The hands cinched around her waist loosened and rested on her hips, fingers splayed along the curve.
"Understand?"
"Of course."
Titus released her. She stepped away quickly, twisting around.
He shook his head as if to dislodge something. "Against my better judgement, I'll let you wear the dress, but you'll need to be near me the entire night."
Hermione almost revolted, but then her logic worked. If she pushed too hard, he might still deny her the ability to go to the party. Once she got there, she was sure he'd change his mind and let her spend time with Katie
He did not change his mind.
When they arrived, he placed a hand on her back and led her to a darkened room containing the men, many of them Wizengamot members and other ministry employees. Cigar smoke lingered in the air, making her gag. Hermione spent her time looking at the door in longing, wishing to spend time with Katie and Theo.
Instead, she sat on a musty couch with Titus' right arm around her upper shoulders, bored out of her mind. He swished a glass of firewhisky in his left hand, occasionally laughing at bad jokes. His fingers played with the skin on her upper shoulder, right over the gauzy fabric, tracing patterns in an absentminded way. Hermione tried to focus on something else, but the touch distracted her. Normally, she'd think nothing of the physical interaction, but she remembered his lips against her ear, hands splayed on her hips. She tried to ignore the coil slowly tightening in her body, the heat pulsing in her lower stomach.
Most of the discussion centered around internal ministry politics and funding, but when the conversation switched to muggles, she started paying attention.
"The muggles are getting restless again in Glasgow," an ugly man named Rosier said. A bulbous nose took up most of his face, and old age had stolen most of his hair. He'd been leering at Hermione most of the night, attempting to look up her dress, causing her to readjust the hemline multiple times. "Tiberius eradicated a small sect of the Order, but new members keep popping back up like weeds. What do you think needs to be done, Titus?"
Titus considered. His finger stopped tracing patterns.
"I always attempt positive reinforcement first. Reward the rats willing to sell out their neighbours. An extra ration of food for six months usually does the trick. Muggles are filthy, desperate creatures without any nobility, so it's easy to sway them to turn traitor. After that, their morale vanishes. They can't trust each other. And without trust, there's no organisation."
"I'd rather not waste rations," Rosier said. "The parasites take up too many as it is. I think it might be time for another purge— the elderly, the infirm. What's the use of them if they cannot work? Honestly, the muggles should be grateful we'd cut off the dead weight."
Hermione froze. A purge. The word made all the hair on her body stand on end. Rosier wasn't talking about killing criminals or the Order. Those would be understandable.
But the elderly? The infirm?
"Would that include you?" Hermione asked Rosier with a sneer. "You look old and useless to me."
All the eyes in the room turned their attention to her, and it went silent. Hermione instantly regretted saying anything, wishing she could shrink back into the cushions and disappear.
"Say you're sorry, Sprite." Titus' hand tightened on her shoulder. She refused to look at him as he bent close. "Right now."
Hermione grit her teeth, unwilling to let the words pass her lips. She meant what she said. Apologising would go against her conscience. She glared at Rosier, showing she wouldn't back down.
They waited, and the silence became oppressive.
She dug her nails into the skin of her legs.
"It's no matter," Rosier drawled in a way that made her skin crawl. "Most muggleborns, like their sires, are a little unruly. There's no need to force your hand right now. I'm sure in private there will be sufficient… punishment." He paused. "As I'm told, your ward doesn't usually misbehave, though I'm also told you spoil her. Maybe it's time you stopped indulging her whims and tightened the leash."
"She's generally very amiable." Titus' hand still gripped her arm so hard she thought it might bruise. "But she's still occasionally careless with youth. I hope you can forgive her."
"Of course," Rosier said. "I enjoy pets more when they have a playful bite. She's eighteen, correct? Have you given thought to when you'd like to start the Trials?"
"She needs to mature more."
Rosier looked her up and down again.
"I think she looks mature enough to breed."
Titus stiffened.
"That's my decision," he warned in a low voice.
Rosier waited a moment, as if assessing the situation carefully.
"I can see why you'd want to postpone. Having her under your roof every night must be a… blessing. It would be a shame to give her to another wizard now that you've put so much work into training such a pretty thing. Of course, that is unless you plan to put your own token in for her, which— after seeing her—I think I would too, if I was young enough. Personally, I'm looking forward to her Trials. She'll be rather interesting, I think. Though let's hope she arrives intact."
She sensed there was a hidden layer to his words, and it made her feel ill.
Titus tugged her closer to him, and Hermione let him.
"Careful what you insinuate. If you continue to make lewd suggestions about my ward, I'll defend her honour in a way I deem appropriate." Titus' voice chilled her. It had the same effect on the men around the room. They all gave furtive looks to each other.
"Is that a threat?"
"The word threat implies I may or may not do it. Rest assured, Rosier, if you overstep, I'll have you removed from the Wizengamot, at the very least."
"You couldn't."
"I could slice your throat right here, and no one would do a thing. Hermione was right about you being useless. You're irritating the wrong person. My patience with your opinions has reached an end."
"You're overconfident."
"Would you like to test my confidence?"
The challenge hung in the oppressive silence. Titus' hand hovered over the pocket of his trousers, right above his wand. The entire room knew who would win the fight, even against multiple wizards.
"This is a party," Goyle senior cut in, lumbering by with his bottle of whisky, attempting to keep the peace. "Let's not bring politics into it. Here, have another round of drinks and let's watch the game." He snapped his fingers, and an elf walked in, rolling along a muggle television set on a tea cart, already showing a quidditch game. Since the great war, wizards had adopted television, charming them to withstand magical interference. Titus hated anything muggle, so they didn't own one, but most households did.
The stunt worked. The tension broke, and the men began to chat, growing louder as if to compensate for the previous conversation.
The room around them turned animated, but Titus stayed silent, as if something brewed in his mind.
"You aren't going to kill the elderly, are you?" She whispered in a way no one could hear.
"No, there won't be a purge. That's an extreme step—an early method used right after the great war— but it doesn't work, and I never participated in it. It would just create a rallying cry for the muggles and give more recruits to the Order." He tugged her tight to him while looking down at her. "I was wrong to bring you in here. Your heart is soft. It's not a bad thing, but I should have known it would distress you to hear talk of muggles, and I'd rather you be around the boys than the men. You don't need to worry. Bribery works most of the time to root out Order sympathisers. It's rare that I need to do much else."
Of course, it would distress her to hear about the elderly being systematically killed. Who wouldn't be distressed by that? She pursed her lips in indecision, and Titus stared at her, picking her expression apart.
"Listen, the only time I use violence is if I feel there's no other method, and it's always against people who deserve it. I may not be the best person, but I don't kill the elderly or children, only the terrorists. And although I don't care for muggles, most of them are innocent, and I treat them as such. Any wizard under my command wouldn't dare kill a child, or perform any acts of brutality on innocent people, or I'd string him up alongside the Order."
Hermione nodded, accepting it. He didn't kill James Potter out of cruelty, but out of self-defence. It still didn't make the botched inquiry okay, but it gave a reason beyond evil.
But that wasn't the only thing that unsettled her. The way Rosier talked about the Trials… It gave her an ominous feeling deep in her stomach that there was something more she didn't know.
Titus sighed and ran a hand through his hair— a sign he was stressed.
"It was selfish of me to keep you close tonight." He let go of her shoulder, stood up, and offered his hand. "Let's go find Theo and Katie. I'm sure they're both missing you."
Hermione stayed with Theo and Katie the rest of the night. Marcus hovered in the corner, hiding his jagged teeth behind his lips as much as possible, embarrassed by them. Every time he tried to talk to Katie, he stuttered and found something else to do. Hermione could tell it both annoyed and amused Katie by her expression. To be fair, Katie wasn't the nicest, always sneering at him or giving underhanded comments.
Soon enough, Mrs. Goyle called Katie away.
"She promised Flint we'd have dinner together." Katie frowned showing Hermione what she thought of that. "I don't know what the woman thinks we'll talk about. This will be terrible, but— I guess I should get used to it if I'll have to live with him." She gave a shudder and another frown.
"Good luck," Hermione said with a grin. "Don't be too mean to him."
"Me? Mean?" Katie placed a hand on her chest in faux outrage. "I'd never be mean."
Besides Draco, Katie might be the meanest person she knew.
"Just talk to him about quidditch. Theo told me he was Captain his sixth and seventh year. You have a common interest."
"Ugh, I'll try, but Greg told me he's a Falmouth Falcons fan. I'm not sure that will go well."
Hermione rolled her eyes just as Mrs. Goyle bustled in, already annoyed Katie was taking too long. She gave a wave as she walked out.
After that, Hermione sat by Theo as he played a muggle card game called poker. Blaise taught them it, shuffling the cards and passing them out. The game relied a lot on deception, and Blaise was very good at it, which didn't surprise her. Theo did okay. Poor Greg lost all his weekly allowance in the first thirty minutes. The other boys—one named Montague and the other Pucey— played decently, enough to keep the game going.
"I'm going to the loo," she whispered to Theo after they started another game. He gave a nod, concentrating on the cards. It was just down the hallway, almost within sight, so she didn't demand Theo lead her there, and neither did he offer.
After relieving herself and washing her hands, she walked out, but stopped. Further down the hallway was the entrance to what was unmistakably the Goyle library. Without overthinking, her feet led her further down the darkened path.
She walked inside and sucked in a breath of reverence. It was spacious but not nearly as grand as the Nott library, and a fine layer of dust coated everything. It was obvious no one used it much, just a showpiece. Not even the elves cleaned it.
Hermione walked in, giving a slight sneeze. She weaved in and out among the stacks, running her hands along the titles, most ancient and crumbling, held together with preservation spells.
Toward the back, next to a stained-glass window, she pulled one off the shelf— a book on the dark arts— something she wouldn't have been able to touch back home. A thought struck her, and she hesitated, but the temptation was too much to resist.
Hermione slid the book off the shelf and slipped it into her purse. It disappeared inside before she could second-guess her decision. Her palms itched and her heart beat furiously at the risk. Theft wasn't something to take lightly against another pureblood. Titus wouldn't punish her physically, but she didn't trust his black moods lately.
Still— when would she have another chance to gain knowledge? And from the looks of it, the books would hardly be noticed. The greedy hunger overwhelmed her, and she pushed aside any concerns. Just like the wands, Hermione considered this a necessary risk. The thirst inside her needed to be slaked, or she'd go mad. What Titus gave her wasn't enough, and she dared not ask for more.
Hermione went through the titles on a mission. She couldn't risk taking too many, deciding to stop it at five. That meant she'd need to be picky about what she chose.
Defensive Spells for Duelling
Advanced Ancient Rune Translation
Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration
Hermione walked into a secluded alcove of the library only lit by a few fairy lights, knowing she didn't have much more time. The dark wrapped around her, bringing a chill. This section was darker, more forgotten. She trailed her fingers along the shelves, stopping at one book.
It had no title, standing out from the rest. Just a leather bound book without any embellishment. With curiosity, she pulled it off the shelf. Besides an odd blue design in the corner, nothing was on the front cover. She squinted at the symbol and then almost dropped it in shock, just barely shoving the book back into place, withholding a shiver of revulsion.
The book wasn't bound in leather.
It was human skin.
The design had been a tattoo on some unfortunate soul. It was obviously a Rune, but not any that she could identify. The book was old, probably older than any book she'd ever seen. Even with preservation spells, it should be crumbling in her hands; its excellent condition meant it was being protected by strong blood magic, most likely with sacrificial roots.
Whatever this book contained was so dark or powerful a wizard in the past killed another human to keep it intact.
A malevolent air pulsed off the book. She should leave it be and exit the library.
But it called to her. A secret knowledge. Whatever this book contained was not meant for her, which meant she wanted it more than anything.
Fuck Titus and his rules. If he refused to give magic to her, she'd take it outright, slip it from hands wishing to tug it from her. The pulsing darkness seemed to feed on her anger, making it grow greater.
She only had a moment to wonder where the vitriol sprouted from. It welled up from deep inside her, a fury she'd just recognized. It felt like she had carried it all her life, lying dormant in her heart. Now that she recognized the feeling, it rose in uncontrollable waves— an almost murderous fury.
Hermione grabbed the dark arts book and placed it in her purse with a determination that surprised her.
"Well, well, well, the little mudblood is also a thief."
The words slicked down her spine.
She twisted to see Blaise leaning against a bookshelf, his arms crossed on his chest and one of his fake smiles tugging at his lips. She'd never believed the expression. There was a disconnect from the smile to his eyes, an emptiness when he looked at someone, as if he was the predator and they the prey.
The threat he posed was not in his intelligence like Draco, but in his lack of humanity. She saw it when his mask briefly slipped. She sensed there were no limits to his cruelty.
The danger instinctively caused the hair to raise across her body. She backed up until she was pressed against the bookshelf. Fairy light flickered around them, contorting his face in the shadows.
"No worries, house pet, I won't tell anyone about your sticky fingers."
"Stop calling me that."
He gave a laugh.
"That's what you are, you know that right?" He pointed to the necklace encircling her throat that Titus had given her. "Titus even gave you a collar. You can call yourself something else, I suppose, but it doesn't change the reality."
"Theo will look for me soon."
"Is that what you're counting on? He's nearly sloshed." He brushed his fingers against his thumb together, as if thinking. "Now that I have a captive audience, I'd like you to help me solve a little mystery."
"Not intelligent enough to figure it out on your own?"
He gave a quick sneer.
"Why bother, when the object of the mystery is before me?"
Hermione's eyes scanned the room, but there were no easy exits; they were boxed in by bookshelves. She could scream for help, but then Titus would know what she'd been doing in the library.
"It's an odd feeling to know you've been obliviated." Blaise seemed to sense her growing fear, straightening. "There's an obvious gap in my memory, but the only thing I managed to uncover was a brief glance of your face, along with another person, who I believe had pale blond hair. Now what did I see in the astronomy tower that was so naughty Malfoy obliviated me?"
"Nothing."
"Hmm, no, I doubt that." His grin grew. "Do you want to know my theory?" He walked forward, and Hermione glanced around, again wondering how to get away, but the only exit would require shoving past him. "I think you and Malfoy were having a bit of illegal fun. He tried to be light-handed while erasing my memories to not scramble my mind, but enough slipped through to solve the puzzle."
"You're not allowed to be alone with me." Hermione felt desperate.
"Is that what you told Draco too?"
He lunged at her, like a snake, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her hard against the books. One ancient tome hissed at her.
Hermione began to struggle and cried out, but Blaise slapped his hand over her mouth.
"No need for dramatics. I just want a sample before offering to buy. Wasn't that what Malfoy was doing? Besides, I doubt your master hasn't had fun with you, especially with the way he looks at you. A fit witch like you in the same manor? He can't fuck you, but I bet he's played with you a time or two. If I had a pet like you, you'd be on your knees servicing me any time I pleased."
His pupils dilated, as if just the thought aroused him.
She made a noise of terror behind his hand. She tried, but from the angle he held her, she couldn't reach her purse where her wand was.
His hand slipped behind her head and grabbed her curls in a tight hold.
"In fact, that's exactly what I want you to do right now. You'll get on your knees, open those pretty lips like the whore you are and suck me dry." He yanked on her curls, making her eyes water. "Make no mistake, you're a filthy fucking mudblood only valuable for your cunt. Nothing but a place to fill with pureblood cum."
"I'll scream."
"You won't," he said. "Sure, I might get in trouble, but so would you. I wonder how much freedom you'll have then. Poor little mudblood locked in the manor, strapped to a bed with her legs open, only allowed out with a wizard's permission."
Blaise gave a sharp laugh and leaned in, and Hermione decided to take a risk. She pooled the energy into her hand and twisted her wrist, intending to shove him away. The fear strengthened her magic, sending Blaise flying backward. The act caused an internal strain, like pulling a muscle, and she gasped with the pain. Blaise smacked against a bookcase, making it wobble a moment before he slid to the floor. He stared up at her, open mouthed. She lifted her hand in threat, showing she'd do it again.
"What the fuck did you just do?" He tilted his head.
"Leave. Me. Alone."
Blaise stood up, and Hermione kept her hand raised, though she doubted what more she could do. Since gaining a wand, her wandless magic suffered from lack of practice. Unwilling to be without protection, Hermione searched through her purse with her free hand. When her fingers closed around the wood, she brought it out and pointed it between Blaise's eyes.
There was a beat of silence as he comprehended the fact she held a wand—her own.
"So the little house pet has been learning tricks beyond sit and stay?" He grinned as if he'd won something, and she felt it twisting through her. He took a step toward her, and she straightened the wand, gritting her teeth. "I think I just discovered what would make Titus tick."
"If I were you, I wouldn't attempt to blackmail him. That would be your last mistake."
"I think we can come to an agreement. A token for my silence. The Wizengamot would put him in Azkaban if they discovered you had your own wand." He took another step forward. Hermione reviewed all the defensive spells she knew, prepared to use them. "After I win your Trials and have you under my control, I'm going to make you call me master while I fuck every part of you." He pointed to her lips. "Your mouth so you'll stay silent." His finger dropped. "Your arse so you won't be so uptight. And then your cunt so it can be used for your only purpose in life. And after you pop out three or four kids, I'll lock you in your room to rot. Or maybe I'll sell you to someone like Rosier. I'm sure he wouldn't mind sloppy leftovers. The possibilities are endless."
Blaise straightened his robes, holding onto the collar of his shirt, as if unworried about the wand pointed at him.
She'd never been spoken to like this. Her sense of safety shifted and cracked. The contents of her stomach threatened to come out at all he threatened, and she shivered, trying to suppress her fear.
He winked.
"See you soon, house pet."
Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault
