The conversation with her sister was to Narcissa's complete satisfaction. Bellatrix showed understanding for her situation, even though she was able to refrain from a little gloating. Even back in the days, when she had accepted Lucius' marriage proposal, she had been subjected to Bella's ridicule. He was rich, a scion of a family steeped in tradition, one of the last wizards who upheld their blood purity - but also weak in character and easily intimidated. Narcissa had never known this negative side of her husband, but Bellatrix was to be proven right: That Lucius fell for a mudblood obviously indicated weakness of character. She felt sick at the thought.
But after what she had overheard the night before, she vowed to put an end to her husband's doings. Sometimes she was really thankful that she had a sister who was open to anything and who loved to drive men up the wall.
With a relaxed expression on her face, she took a seat to her husband's right at the breakfast table. She was surprised that he looked grim, but she blamed it on the absence of the slave. It was unusual that the Mudblood was not the first to be present in the dining room, and this fact allowed only one conclusion: she was not presentable after the night.
Outwardly unmoved, she watched Lucius open the morning mail. One particular letter, completely in black, as was her sister's trademark, was the focus of her attention, but she was careful not to let it show. Only with difficulty did she suppress a smile as she eyed her husband's further darkening expression.
"This is an invitation from your sister," he finally addressed her, "she is giving a small reception tonight on the occasion of her moving into an old city mansion in London, and wishes our presence."
"Oh," Narcissa exclaimed in affected surprise, "how nice! I haven't seen Bella for weeks. Surely we're going?"
The blonde woman could almost grasp the suspicion that was coming her way, but she knew he had nothing in his hands to accuse her of. Patiently, she waited until her husband also realised that he could not refuse this invitation.
"Of course we'll go," he growled. Quickly he scribbled a few lines on stationery lying ready, then folded the parchment up, and put it in the beak of the waiting family owl. Elegantly the beautiful animal took to the air and left the hall through one of the open windows, carrying the confirmation of the visit to Bellatrix Lestrange.
"I think the acceptance was a bit premature, Mother," Draco then chimed in. He grabbed the invitation while his father wrote the reply and studied it carefully. "It says here that she expects us for coffee at three o'clock. But the two of us were supposed to go to London today and pick out new capes for me!"
Narcissa almost laughed. Without her setting him up to it, her son supplied her with the cue.
"Oh, Draco, yes, that's right. Now what are we going to do? Lucius?" she asked in a desperate voice.
Her husband's suspicions flared up again, but again he could say nothing. With his brows drawn together, the master of the house eyed his wife and son, then grabbed the invitation himself again. Narcissa knew that Lucius could not change that.
"Well, postpone the shopping trip," he ordered.
"That won't be so easy, Father," Draco objected, "we have an appointment with Bouffin and Son today. Appointments like that aren't easy to get, as you know, and if you cancel on short notice, you won't get another one any time soon."
"They make the best festive robes in all of London!" Narcissa added. She couldn't believe their little game was going so perfectly.
"All right," Lucius finally relented, "we all know how Bella reacts when you break your word. I'll go there alone and you two will follow as soon as possible. Got it?"
With a wicked smile, Narcissa nodded. Everything was going according to plan.
oOoOoOo
Hermione stood in front of the gate that led to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around her naked body. She was freezing in the cold. She did not understand why the Malfoys suddenly banished her from the house, without any clothes at that, but she could think of only one explanation: Lucius Malfoy was incensed by her rejection the night before. It was autumn by now, and the late afternoon proved terribly cold, foggy, and windy. She had not seen her master all day, then suddenly Narcissa Malfoy had stood before her in the kitchen, vanished her clothes, and thrown her out.
Sobbing, Hermione sank down against the wall. She was cold, unbearably cold. If he disliked her rejection so much, why didn't he just take what he wanted by force? Why this punishment now? In her innermost being, she knew that she was grateful that he had not simply taken advantage of her as well. But that didn't change the fact that his actions made no sense.
The tender Lucius Malfoy, who had shown interest in her body several times over the past few days, was almost welcome to her. She sensed that he sought physical touch and human warmth, much as she did, and it was a wonderful feeling when he embraced her. She almost wanted to return the hug, but she couldn't bring herself to have positive feelings toward this man yet. So she had simply enjoyed the moment of intimacy in the library, absorbed it, and registered how he also drew comfort from the embrace.
At that moment, when he hugged her so tightly, she understood why he wanted sex. She understood that it was the intimacy that he craved, not just the pure pleasure and lust, but true closeness. In the library, for a brief moment, she too had yearned for it. But at the same time, she felt that anything sexual would forever be tainted by the memories of Snape.
Again, Hermione sobbed. Images of the rape flashed through her mind. Snape pressing against her, Snape massaging her breasts, thrusting into her without consideration, again and again. And more images mingled in: of Malfoy rubbing against her bottom, freeing his cock, ready to thrust into her with force as well. Shivering, she drew her knees up and tried to build some kind of protection from the cold wind with her long hair.
She couldn't deny that Lucius Malfoy was attractive. As much as she hated what he was and what he stood for, she longed for that hug he had given her in the library. Not just because he was the only nice person in the house, but also because she sensed that he let his guard down, however briefly, and showed her a part of himself. That version of him that pulled her into his arms was someone she could trust. Someone she could succumb to.
Another cold gust swept Hermione's hair from her face. Desperately, she snuggled closer to the cold, rough wall of the house, but it offered no protection. By now her whole body was shivering uncontrollably, the cold crept into her bones, and Hermione could feel the blood flow slowly diminishing in her arms and legs. With the last of her strength, she straightened up, pulled herself up the wall, and took a few steps towards the gate. But all the jiggling did not help; still the wooden door was locked, mercilessly shutting her out.
Trembling, Hermione looked around. She had to find a corner sheltered from the wind, preferably also covered, if she wanted to have any chance of surviving the night. Obviously, Lucius Malfoy was planning to not let her back into the house, at least this night.
Hermione's eyes fell on the large, wooden wash bucket that was always stored outside at night. Maybe if she turned it over and slipped underneath, if she used a stone to leave a slit for air, maybe she could store enough heat underneath. Driven by panic and the urge to survive, she searched the surroundings for a larger stone, grabbed the first best one, and dragged it back to the wall of the house. Using the last of her strength, she lifted the heavy bucket, turned it over, and let it slowly sink down on top of her until the edge met the stone.
Hermione curled up, rested her head on her arms, and closed her eyes. She was still miserably cold and doubted she would ever find sleep. But at least there was no wind tugging at her now, and the wood formed a natural heat reservoir that would prevent her body from cooling to a life-threatening level. It had to.
oOoOoOo
Lucius Malfoy looked at the company around him with disgust. Various high-ranking Death Eaters were present, but Macnair and Dolohov were the most civilized among them. Some brought their slaves with them, and it was obvious that they were far less squeamish about them than Lucius himself.
Worst of all, however, was his sister-in-law's slave. A thick studded collar adorned the otherwise naked body, connected to a heavy iron chain that ended in a ring in the wall. As if chained like a dangerous guard dog, the young man sat on all fours next to his owner's throne-like chair, gazing sightlessly into the room.
His cock was trapped in a ring that was clearly too small for its size, and was permanently erect. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead, an agonized moan sounded now and then, but otherwise Lucius could not detect that this man was still aware of anything that was happening around him. He didn't even want to imagine what kind of curse Bellatrix had used to ensure that her slave was always available for sex. In any case, the ring had been doing its job for hours. Despite various sexual pleasures of his mistress, the man had not yet come once.
With a shudder, Lucius Malfoy turned away. He knew his sister-in-law's madness, but this cruel torture was more repulsive than anything he had experienced from her before. Impatiently, he looked at the large grandfather clock at the end of the music room where the party was being held. It was already after seven o'clock, dinner would soon be served, and there was as yet no sign of his wife and son.
"Ah, Lucius, my dear friend," he heard the cooing voice of the hostess then, "I have just had an owl from my beloved little sister. She's completely exhausted from the long day of shopping today, and neither she nor Draco can make an appearance right now."
Stunned, the blond man stared at his relative. He had suspected it. Something about the way the conversation at the breakfast table had gone had set alarm bells ringing inside him. And the insidious glint in Bellatrix's eyes as she delivered the message only confirmed him in that.
"What game are you playing, Bella?" he hissed, but received only a laugh in response.
"Game? What do you think we're playing? Do you think your wife is deliberately not coming? Do you think she wanted you out of the house?" Bellatrix retorted in her annoying, childish voice, "Is there anything in your house that you have to be so careful about that you can't leave it alone with your wife?"
Horrified, Lucius sucked in his breath. He wasn't fooled by the childish voice - Bellatrix was clearly threatening him. He fell into a trap with his eyes open. He should have known it was only a matter of time before his wife did something about the way he treated Hermione Granger. And now here he was, while she was alone in his manor, subjected to every harassment his wife and son could dish out.
"Do you want to go home, Lucius? Do you want to save your poor little mudblood?" Bellatrix purred. When she received no response, she added, in a tone he had never heard before and sounding frighteningly like the real Bellatrix Lestrange, "If I were you, I'd think about how it would look if Lucius Malfoy left a dinner party early because he was worried about his mudblood slave."
With those words, Bellatrix turned and faced her other guests. Left behind was a petrified Lucius Malfoy, forced to realize that his wife was still capable of intrigue - and clearly not above using her art to turn it against him.
"Oh, one more thing, my beloved brother-in-law," the high voice sounded again, "I've prepared a guest room for you. It's going to be a long night tonight and I don't want you apparating drunk. Your breakfast tomorrow is also taken care of, so relax and enjoy the evening."
Stiff with anger and horror, Lucius looked after his sister-in-law. He knew he had no choice if he didn't want to make himself suspicious, but worrying about Hermione almost got on his last nerve. They hadn't had a chance to talk about last night. He wanted to apologize for his behaviour, for the false assumption that his desire was reciprocated. And now he had to sit helplessly and hope that he would find a living Hermione the next morning.