With a groan, Hermione stretched - midnight just passed and she finally catalogued the last of the many books. Her body was clearly telling her that it desperately needed sleep, but she hesitated. Here in the library, Draco Malfoy had not messed with her yet, but who knew if he was not be lying in wait for her outside her small room. She cursed herself for her fear, but still, she could not turn it off. For months now, she had lived with the certainty that Malfoy would eventually harm her - and ever since she had lost her virginity to Snape, and with it the fragile protection of Lucius Malfoy, there was no longer anything standing in Draco's way.
September was coming to an end, and as was typical for the country, the weather was showing its worst side. It was tantamount to a miracle that she hadn't frozen to death when they locked her out. Hermione was sure that it was Draco Malfoy who had come up with this nasty plan - it was a more subtle a kind of violence and threat than she was used to from him. Not really doing anything, but letting the situation work for itself.
Sighing, she rose. There was no point in lingering in the library any longer, her body needed sleep. Perhaps Malfoy had already grown tired of waiting and she could get to her bed undisturbed. Hesitantly, she opened the heavy door.
"About time." The cold voice of her nightmare greeted her. He was indeed waiting outside the door, as if there was nothing more important in the world. That fact alone sent a chill down Hermione's spine - the possibility of finally being able to do to her everything he had only hinted at before seemed incredibly important to Draco Malfoy. If he hadn't concocted something truly cruel for her, it certainly wouldn't have been worth the effort. As if rooted to the spot, Hermione stood in the doorway.
"Come, dear," he whispered tenderly as he closed his hand tightly around her arm, "the night is well advanced and we do want to enjoy ourselves together as much as possible."
With those words, he pulled her out of the library down the hallway. It took a few seconds before Hermione awoke from her stupor, but then she fought the young man with all her might. Draco had only a slight smile for her efforts.
"Now, now, my heart. No use to pretend," he commented sweetly, before adding in an icy voice, "The more you fight, the more uncomfortable you'll find this. You should be honoured that not only do my father and Snape fancy you, but another Death Eater is willing to accept you. You're practically begging to get in good with the high and mighty - and the only thing you have to offer is your body."
Horrified at what Draco implied with his words, she kicked at him, but he expertly dodged. Silently, he continued to drag her through the dimly lit corridors, ignoring all her attempts to break free. Her body, malnourished for months, and her illness, not yet fully recovered, prevented Hermione from having anywhere near enough strength for serious resistance. Exhausted, she finally followed him without further attempts to escape.
It wasn't until they passed his parents' bedroom that Hermione's fighting spirit reawakened. If she made enough noise, maybe Lucius Malfoy would wake up. Maybe he would save her.
"Let go of me already," she screamed at Draco, while she kicked at him again desperately, trying to scratch his arm. To her surprise, this time he responded to her kicks and punches. He grabbed her by both arms and shoved her against the wall.
"Are you screaming in the hope that my father will save you?" he asked dangerously softly, "Don't you think it's better for your goals to wrap as many Death Eaters around your finger as possible? Why don't you try it on me too?"
"What's going on in that sick brain of yours?" Hermione spat in disgust, "What goals am I supposed to have?"
"How long are you going to pretend? We've been through this enough times and you should have realised by now that I know you want to join the Dark Lord!"
"Sometime in the last year you seem to have lost your mind! You cannot possibly believe that?"
"What other reason would you have to suck up to father?"
Incredulous at such twisted thoughts, Hermione just shook her head. Her furtive glance at the door next to them seemed to confirm whatever Draco suspected her of.
"You should be smarter than that, Granger," he whispered softly in her ear as he covered her mouth with one hand, "every Death Eater more you spread your legs for can help you with the Dark Lord. So, why don't you try to convince me with your seduction skills? They seem to have worked wonders on my father, after all."
Before Hermione could respond, Draco took his hand from her and pressed his lips to her mouth instead. The kiss was hard and full of hate, but any attempt of hers to break it was prevented by a strong hand. Then, he let go of her to kiss her neck instead in the very place where days before his father had left a mark. Again, his hand was over her mouth to stifle any scream. Only a soft whimper filtered through as she felt Draco begin to unbutton his pants.
"What's going on?" the dark voice of the master of the house suddenly interrupted her. Relieved, Hermione sighed when she saw Lucius Malfoy standing in the open doorway, but to her confusion, Draco didn't seem annoyed, but rather displayed a triumphant grin.
"I thought I'd have some fun with your mudblood, too, father," he said provocatively.
The latter just looked at him for a moment, quickly eyed Hermione from top to bottom, and then replied impassively, "Yes, fine. But please not in front of my door, I want to sleep here. Your room is only a few feet away, you should be able to make there."
With these words, Lucius Malfoy disappeared back into his bedroom. Hermione looked after him, completely horrified - she had hoped differently. Where had the Lucius Malfoy gone that she thought she had discovered before her involuntary visit to Snape? The one who had shown something like concern and consideration? It almost seemed as if he had lost all interest in her.
Or had she only imagined this gentle side of him? Anger rose in her. He had played with her, just as Draco played with her fear. He almost succeeded in winning her over, in making her a willing victim - but his behaviour now opened her eyes: Lucius Malfoy was, despite everything, a Death Eater who had no compassion for her.
"You can go, Granger, I've had enough for one night." Without even so much as looking at her, he zipped up his pants again and turned to his room.
Completely confused, Hermione was left alone. Neither of the two men had behaved as she would have expected. And she wasn't sure which reaction frightened her more. Finally, exhausted, she dragged herself back to her cubbyhole and sank onto her mattress.
oOoOoOo
Hermione stood in the kitchen scrubbing the dishes from breakfast, still feeling the events of the night in her bones. The house elves had already left the kitchen and were busy with dusting and other duties, so she was alone for a moment in peace. If anyone had told her a year ago that one day she wouldn't be able to sleep at night because Draco Malfoy instilled so much fear in her, she would have just laughed. The aggressive but at the same time cowardly Malfoy in her school days had offended and humiliated her, but never had he frightened her. Ever since she lived here, however - and especially since last night - it was he who gave her nightmares.
A soft cough behind her made Hermione turn around. The lady of the house stood in the doorway with a mild smile.
"I see Severus nursed you back to health," she told her in a chatty tone, "It's probably to be expected, considering the fun he's been having with you. Did you pay him decently for his services?"
Still smiling, Narcissa Malfoy strode toward Hermione, one arm hidden behind her back, in the other she waved a pair of scissors. Involuntarily, Hermione backed away. With that expression on her face, the blonde woman reminded her all too much of her crazy sister. Something wasn't right here - the friendliness frightened her.
"You don't have to back away from me," the woman commented, "I just want to look at your wounds and scars."
"What wounds? I'm not wounded!" Hermione hissed back at her.
A mirthful laugh rang out, but she saw that Narcissa Malfoy's eyes remained ice cold. Completely unprepared, Hermione saw the arm hidden behind her back shoot forward, grab her hand, and push up her sleeve with the other.
"I meant that scar," Narcissa explained with a smile as she pointed the tip of the scissors at the letters "Mudblood" carved into it a few months ago.
Horrified, Hermione drew in her breath. She still remembered too well how she had lain on the floor of the manor as Bellatrix Lestrange cut letter after letter into her forearm with repulsive glee, so deeply that an ugly scar had remained. The pain had not surpassed that of the Cruciatus curse, but it remained much more vivid in her memory. Eyes wide, Hermione stared at the woman before her, whose face by now showed no smile.
Without warning, Hermione felt herself pushed to the ground again. With her whole weight, Narcissa Malfoy held her down as she flipped open the scissors and laughed maliciously. "It almost looks like you forgot my sister's keepsake. Come, let me refresh it."
With those words, she stabbed the scissors deep into Hermione's arm. She felt the scar break open and begin to bleed more profusely than ever. Frantically, she screamed and kicked, but the woman on top of her would not be deterred. With the same crazed, joyously excited expression that had marred her sister's face then, she re-scarred each stroke until finally the word "Mudblood" was no longer white, but red and bloodily emblazoned on Hermione's arm.
Breathing heavily, Narcissa stood up, looking down at Hermione with satisfaction on her face as she cast a cleansing spell over her blood-stained clothing. Then, without another word to her, the lady of the house disappeared from the kitchen. Sobbing, Hermione straightened up, trying desperately to mentally push back the pain, but the dull throbbing inside and the sharp burning on her arm could not be restrained.
With the last of her strength, she grabbed a clean towel and pressed it onto the open wound while wrapping a second towel around the arm, improvising as stable a tourniquet as possible. Back when Bellatrix had first slashed her arm, she had been able to magically close the wound shortly after. It had still left a scar because of the blade she used, but at least it had been over quickly. This, Hermione was aware, would take forever to heal. And if it got infected, she could lose her arm or die.
Crying, she sank down against the kitchen wall. Just yesterday morning she had wished she could go back to Lucius Malfoy, had cursed her stay with Snape. But thinking back on it now, she cursed herself for her stupidity in provoking Snape's wrath and shortening her visit there herself. At Snape's, she had been able to be with Ginny. At Snape's, she had gotten decent food. And a hot bath. Here, she was again completely alone, without any support, at the mercy of the three Malfoys.
And all three had proven to her since yesterday that the word mercy was certainly not in their vocabulary.