Filthy Little Mudblood | By : Lupinswolfie Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 30387 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Apparently, some things were not meant to be. At least, that’s the thought that kept running through Hermione’s mind in the last few hours. When they had returned from Grimmauld Place, Lucius immediately dropped her off in her room, warded the door against her leaving, and left with only a few words defaming her character. Funny, just when she was allowed to leave the room on her own, he decided to keep her locked in like the worthless slave he still saw her to be. Granted, she could easily undo the wards, but dealing with his temper wasn’t high on her list of things to do and there was really no reason for her to leave except to see Severus and Ophelia.
It also didn’t help her state of mind that he continued to call her a whore and all but spit in her face. His problem wasn’t one that she thought could be solved easily and since she couldn’t read his mind, there was nothing she could do. If he was going to act like a petulant child, then she would have to deal with it. Which also meant she’d have to deal with the feelings of…well, she didn’t know what they were exactly, only that she wished more than almost anything that things were the way they used to be between them. At one point, although he said he was only using her for sex, they did seem to have something. Now it seemed all they had was a growing expanse of anger and resentment.
She walked over to the table, looking at the collection of books only to realize she’d already read them all and it had been quite awhile since Lucius had bothered to bring her any more. She could go visit Ophelia later, once Lucius calmed down and ‘let her out’, but in the meantime she was bored and had absolutely nothing to take her mind off the feelings of abandonment that were coursing through her heart. It would seem that those she loved, or even possibly could have loved in the future, were steadily deserting her and she would soon have only herself left. Perhaps that’s as it should be.
It was obvious that Harry would never speak to her again. Then again, most of the Order would never speak to her again. What had possessed her to even consider going to them? Wasn’t it obvious that they had thought so little of her before and could now care even less? If it wasn’t obvious before, it certainly was now. She growled at the thought of Ron and Tonks. What they had done to her and Remus so long ago was bad enough, but to try and pass a baby off as Remus’ was unconscionable. However, in order for Remus to believe such lies, he had to have been with Tonks since Hermione had been taken. Perhaps they were all rebuilding their lives and moving on without her. Not that there was anything to be had for her and Remus, but she considered him as something akin to a soul mate of sorts, a kindred spirit. He was not, however, her best friend, and the loss of Harry was one she tried desperately not to think about. Maybe what she said would do some good after all. It was possible he would heed her words and step up to his position. Then again, it was also possible he would do the opposite just to spite her.
The muffled footsteps interrupted her musing and were followed shortly by the wave of magic that quickly brought the wards down. She jumped around, hoping Lucius had finally decided to…well, to do something. Anything was better than the cold indifference he had been showing her as of late, or the bitter anger she felt was undeserved. Turning her attention fully towards the door and the one man who often sought her attentions, she decided not to linger on the fact that she was upset about Lucius’ behavior. Voldemort stood in the doorway, an excited gleam in his eyes as several Death Eaters, Lucius and Severus included, stood behind him.
“It is time, Tim Molisje, for you to exact your revenge. Follow me.”
“Of course, Milord,” she said, head bowed as she walked behind them.
“We will be going to the dungeons,” he said quietly to those around him, “so that you may witness what becomes of those that do not obey my orders. This witch was not to be harmed, and yet, harm came to her. Therefore, I will allow her the honor of revenge…in any way she wishes.”
“Thank you, Milord,” she said calmly. All hint of nervousness was hidden as she walked slightly behind Voldemort.
Severus soon entered her mind. “He’s excited about this.”
“Yes, right up until he sees no one in Malfoy’s cell and becomes rather angry.”
“Be careful. There is no telling who he will blame and who he will punish.”
“I will; you as well. A part of me wishes it were actually happening.”
“As do I, Granger. There was no excuse for his actions and I would have killed him…”
“Milord,” someone called from another doorway.
He turned on the intruder, wand raised slightly at the bowing figure as he growled, “What is it, McNair?”
“Please, forgive the intrusion, Master, but I have information you will want to hear.”
“Do you presume to know what I want, McNair?”
“N…No, Master,” he stammered, still bowing.
“That is what I thought.” He turned to Hermione and the others and said, “Go to the dungeons and arrange the prisoner. I will be down shortly.” Very gently, he cupped Hermione’s cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb as he said in a lover’s voice, “Do not start without me, Tim Molisje, or I will be most disappointed.”
Grinning wickedly, she licked her lips and responded, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Milord.”
She chanced a glance at Lucius after Voldemort left, only to see him glowering at her as they continued down the hallway.
“So, your Mudblood slave is the one, Lucius?”
“Excuse me?” he ground out, looking over at a man Hermione didn’t know.
“Yes, the one the Dark Lord has been panting over. We’ve all been wondering what the attraction was,” he said, stopping in the hallway and gripping Hermione’s chin as he looked at her face before his hand began trailing down her neck, “but from here, I think it’s fairly obv…”
He suddenly fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Lucius stopped his advance upon him, looking confusedly at Hermione.
“What is the meaning of this?” Voldemort asked angrily when he seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Hermione dropped her hand and the man stopped screaming. “M…Master, she has a wand hidden!” his trembling voice yelled in warning.
“Witch?” he asked, and Hermione could almost swear there was a hint of pride in his voice.
“He insulted you, Milord,” she pouted coyly.
“Did he?”
“Yes, Milord, he did. He said you were panting over her and she cursed him for his insolence,” Severus stated evenly, but a guarded look remained on his face as he watched Hermione.
Voldemort stepped around the shaking wizard and took Hermione’s arm, leading her down the hallway and allowing the others to follow behind.
“Impressive,” he said so only she could hear.
“Thank you, Milord. I do not like for those who serve you to insult you. Serving you should be an honor, not something to mock, Milord.”
As they descended the staircase that led to the dungeons, the air became colder and soon she could see her breath before her. There was a smell in the air, the smell of blood and death, that, even in this dank prison, didn’t belong. The hairs on the back of her neck stood slightly, but when she felt Severus hesitate behind her, she knew she was right.
“Milord,” she said quietly, “something is wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Yes…” she stopped mid-sentence when her eyes landed on the mangled and bloody body of Rabastan Lestrange and she saw a shadow dart across the room. Werewolves were the only thing that could leave a human looking like that, and she knew by the shadows and smell that they were still there.
I think the werewolves are revolting against both sides, so be careful.
“GET DOWN!” she shouted, immediately stepping in front of them all and holding up her hands, only to realize they were all still standing and she couldn’t fire a single hex for fear of hitting them. She looked at the others and realized they were all looking at Voldemort. His eyes met hers briefly.
“Do as she says,” he said cautiously, observing the witch before him closely, but not crouching with the others.
A streak of red light shot from her hand and she slowly began turning in a circle. Yelps and howls could be heard around them and the Death Eaters just looked at each other in confusion as they slowly backed away. It was only when the werewolves began to quickly encircle them faster than they could be wounded that the Death Eaters knew actual fear. Their fear only served to feed the wolves agitation and they were soon snarling and growling as they advanced on their prey and Hermione found herself unable to keep up with them.
Voldemort stood, wand raised as he fired several useless curses. “We must get out of here. I do not know what the hell you are doing, but you’re only serving to make them angrier.”
You and Voldemort, when you’re um, together, are actually sharing your magic. Did you realize that?
Remus’ words floated through her mind once again and she looked at the man beside her, silently taking his hand, both jerking slightly in surprise when the magic flowed from one to the other and back again.
“Trust me,” she said quietly. Then she turned around; a brighter, stronger light shot from her hand and the yelps and howls increased in intensity.
“Dammit, Granger!” she heard Severus yell after several moments passed. “That’s enough! You’ve killed them all and you’re going to kill yourself!”
She lowered her hand and looked around. He was right, not a single wolf was standing, most not even breathing for that matter.
“Rabastan!” Rodolphus yelled, running to his brother and cradling the bloody body in his arms.
“We will discuss this later,” Voldemort murmured into her ear and she nodded her agreement when he released her hand. “Check the prisoners!”
The Death Eaters quickly checked the prison. “They’re gone, Master. All dead.”
“And Draco Malfoy as well?”
“Y…yes, Master. There was…there was nothing left of him. Only blood.”
“How very fitting,” he snarled, glaring in Lucius’ direction as the man’s face regained only a slight touch of color and his eyes never wavered from Hermione. “That is, however, the end of one disappointment. Who were they and how did they enter?”
“Milord, if I may, I believe they could have only obtained entrance by someone they knew. I would first figure out the whereabouts of Fenrir Greyback.”
“He is not at his post, Milord. The Mudblood may be right.”
“Shouldn’t he have been secluded for the night?”
“Y…Yes, Milord. He had made plans to lock himself in the prison cell next door, with the muggles, for the night.”
“Ah, yes, I remember,” Voldemort responded in obvious disgust. “Find him, bring him to me.”
They all walked back upstairs a few moments later, leaving only a few to clean up the mess and sort out the werewolves. Hermione tried desperately not to let the sounds of the strong, evil, grown man crying over his dead brother effect her. She silently wondered if she were to die in the near future, would anyone cry for her? Had she lost everyone that not only she cared about, but that cared about her as well?
“Come with me,” Voldemort said quietly and she followed him to his room. It was a sad thing for her to realize that at least one person wanted to be with her at the moment, even if it was the most evil wizard alive and a man she was supposed to hate. Lucius walked away without a word and Severus gave her an unreadable look before he departed to his rooms.
Voldemort closed and warded the door before turning back toward her. “Explain to me what it was exactly that happened in the dungeon.”
“I took a chance and it paid off.”
“And what chance was it you found yourself taking while we were in danger?”
“Certain spells can injure werewolves, but I assume you know this. I also assume you know that said spells can kill weaker werewolves. If we had retreated, they would have treated us as prey and attacked. I did what I thought best under the circumstances and we’re all alive because of it.”
“Watch your tongue, Mudblood, or I’ll make you wish you had.” She sighed heavily, already growing weary with his threats.
“Of course,” she said in a falsely sweet voice.
“Crucio!”
She fell down to the floor, her body shaking violently from the pain, but she refused to cry out. He lifted the curse and she slowly rose to her feet, glaring at the man standing before her whose red eyes held a hint of something she couldn’t name.
“Do not make me do that again,” he said quietly.
“Of course, Milord.” Her tone was full of reverence as she bowed before him.
“Get up,” he snarled. “Is it your intention to anger me to the point of cursing you once again?”
“No, Milord. I am only trying to do as you ask. However, I find that difficult at times, Milord, when what you ask of me is not what pleases you when you receive it.”
“Stop playing obedient slave and look at me,” he hissed, knowing that cursing the witch before him would do no good, but wishing to wrap his fingers around her slender throat. “You were told to explain your actions not to state the obvious in such a disrespectful tone.”
Taking a deep breath, her eyes met his and she began trying to explain something that she herself didn’t fully understand. “Have you noticed that when we’re, you know, together, that the air seems to shift and change?”
“Yes, the air does crackle every time I fuck you,” he said crudely, waiting for her to continue, but already beginning to understand.
“I believe, Milord, that we are sharing our magics. I’m not sure how it works exactly, as I don’t have a library to do my research, but I feel certain that that is what is happening between us.”
“If you had a library, I presume you could readily find the answers you seek.”
“Yes,” she grinned up at him, “there is little one cannot find in a proper library.”
“And, with my allowances for you to walk about the Manor, you have yet to find the library here?”
Her eyes widened in excitement. “No! I mean, I haven’t really had a reason to go wandering around,” she explained, leaving out the fact that she had been busy with Charlie and Ophelia and then the Order meeting.
“Then I suggest you make yourself useful and very soon. I want to know the possible advantages and the consequences.”
“Of course, Milord,” she practically squealed before regaining her composure. “I’m sorry.”
“No need.” Did he almost smile at her exuberance? “Tell me, Tim Molisje, what is it that you fear?” he asked, walking up to her and trailing a finger along her cheek and down to her shoulder.
“Fear?” she asked cautiously, trying to think of what fears she may have.
“Yes, fear. You do not fear me, although you should, and I want to know what it is that you do fear.”
“No, I’m not afraid of you. I’ve had many years to overcome that fear.”
“Ah, yes, helping Potter thwart me repeatedly,” he said, a slight bite to his voice. “Tell me, would he have been able to do so without you?”
“I don’t think he would have. Our first year, when you came back with Quirrell…”
“It was you who got past Severus’ task, am I right?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“It is precisely the kind of thing you could do and he told me as much when I returned. What else?” he asked, settling down on the sofa and allowing his intrigue to show.
“Well,” she nervously began again, it wasn’t everyday you explained to an evil wizard how you had stopped his earlier regenerations and such. “I already told you about the basilisk in our second year. In our third year, we saved Sirius Black and realized who Peter Pettigrew really was.”
“I take it you are not fond of my servant?”
“Not really, no.”
“Was it you who made him fall down the steps, then?”
“Of course not, Milord, I told you it was not me when you asked before,” she said earnestly, knowing she couldn’t allow him to know how well she knew Occlumency.
“Continue.”
“You came back our fourth year, but I helped Harry get through the maze. Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, now that I look back on it.”
“I rather think the opposite,” he smirked, watching her closely. “I have heard tales of your brilliance from several of my followers and I believe you are downplaying your role. However, I could put your intelligence to use. Do you think you can work alongside those you vowed to destroy at one point?” he asked.
“My alliances are not what they used to be, Milord.”
“You must relieve my curiosity,” he said, smirking again as she looked at him questioningly and wondered what else she would be required to tell him. “Is it true that you hold no apprehensions with saying my name?”
“Tom?” she asked in honest confusion.
“No,” he ground out, reminding her once again that he wasn’t exactly pleased to be called by his muggle name. “My real name.”
She quickly understood what he meant and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Of course. No, I have no problems saying your name, Lord Voldemort.”
“Interesting. And where did such daring come from? I fashioned a name for myself that I was sure others would fear to speak, so how is it that a mere girl would be willing to say my name?”
“Easy, you’re not friends with Harry Potter for years without learning a little courage when it comes to, well, you.”
“I see. Come here, witch.” he commanded.
She walked to his chair and gasped in surprise when her clothes suddenly disappeared. “Kneel,” he commanded once more and she readily obeyed. His clothes vanished as well and his erection stood proudly before her. He leaned over and took her chin between his fingers, looking at her longingly, but with concern as well. “Are you healed?”
“Yes,” she answered, unconsciously licking her lips and making him smile slightly down at her.
“Excellent. It is most unfortunate that you did not get to show young Malfoy his place.”
Her agreement was lost on its way to her mouth when he pulled her hair back from her face and pushed her forward. She greedily lapped at the juices covering the tip of his large cock as he leaned his head back in pleasure and she felt herself become wet for him. She licked up and down his shaft slowly, moaning when his fingernails dug deep into her scalp and she took him in her mouth.
“Yes, witch,” he sighed, forcing her further down.
After several long moments of sucking his glorious cock, he pulled her hair back sharply and ordered her to stand. “Turn around,” he commanded and she turned in front of him. His hands trailed up her thighs, around the globes of her arse, and landed softly on her hips. With one hard pull, she was on his lap and his erection was pushed against her back. He lifted her slightly, positioning himself at her opening before jerking her down and impaling her body with his cock. Her scream of pain and pleasure was music to his ears.
“Gods, witch! So tight and wet for me,” he moaned when she began rocking on top of him. “So sexy…so wanton. Yes, fuck me like the whore that you are.”
She gritted her teeth at his words, but her eyelids fluttered closed and she lost herself in the sensation he was creating within her. Her hips rose and fell to the command of his hands on her body and she moaned loudly when he slowly slid them around her to her front. His fingers barely brushed her nipples, causing her to gasp and arch into his touch while one arm wrapped securely around her waist. The heat pooling in her middle, coupled with the tight coils ready to spring drove her to madness with want for release.
He chuckled softly, before rasping into her ear, “Do you feel the air crackle around us now? Do you want to come, Mudblood? Do you wish for me to allow you such pleasure?”
His lips brushed against her neck as he yanked her hair back roughly and she squealed before responding, “YES! Dear gods, let me come!”
“Are you giving me orders?” he growled, pulling her head further back by her hair and sinking his teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He smiled to himself when she whimpered in pain. The hold around her waist tightened and he forced her down harder on his cock, the sound of flesh smacking flesh echoing throughout the room and mixing with their moans and his crude words.
“You are not allowed to give me orders,” he said softly. One hand left her body and within seconds she felt the cold, hard tip of his wand at her neck. “Crucio,” he barely whispered and she screamed out in surprise and pain. Her body convulsed and shook with the effects of the curse, but she refused to scream again--choosing instead to hold herself erect as he brutally fucked her tight hole and the pain soared throughout her body. After a long moan fell from his lips, he released the spell and began touching her again. “You are my slave and I give you the orders,” he said calmly, allowing her to slowly regain control of herself.
She raised her hips again, hands firm, but shaky on his thighs as she used the leverage to allow her body the needed height. In her anger, she brought his cock almost completely out of her hot passage before she slammed her body back down on his again, repeatedly hitting the spot that made her say and do things she wouldn’t otherwise say or do. Never had she experienced anything close to what she did with him, the way her body burned and ached for release when her darkness met his was enough to drive her insane. The anger erupting inside of her only served to add more fuel to the ever growing fire inside of her and she felt as though she could explode at any second. She knew this was wrong on entirely too many levels to fathom, but she needed this release. She needed to feel wanted and there was something eerily sensual in the way he fucked her.
He roughly gripped her breast and twisted her nipple, making her moan loudly once more. “Make yourself come,” he rasped. Her hand moved from his thigh and she started to flick her clit, gently at first, but then harder and harder when his hips thrust up to meet her own. She couldn’t suppress the groan that fell from her lips when his hand moved between her legs and over her fingers, helping to bring her body to completion. “Come for me, gorgeous witch. Let me feel your body react in the way only I can achieve.” His breath caressed her neck with his words and her entire body began shaking only seconds before the inner walls of her pussy clamped down on his cock.
“Fuck! Yes!” she screamed loudly, slowing her motions when her legs began feeling like rubber.
He hoisted her hips up and thrust his cock into her repeatedly. Over and over he entered her, harder each time until she thought she would surely split in two, but instead came once more without warning. “That’s it, whore, make me come!” he snarled, spearing into her body again and again before releasing his seed deep within her walls and allowing her to collapse back against him. After several moments, he slid out of her and performed a cleaning charm on them both before picking her up with a gentleness she never knew he possessed and carrying her to the bedroom.
~ ~ ~***~ ~ ~
The door slowly opened, causing Ophelia to jump back and cringe in fear until she saw Severus. Thankful that he hadn’t witnessed her moment of weakness, she rushed forward to greet him and see what he was levitating through the room in her direction. She knew others in the Order were frightened or put off by him, but he reminded her of her father, surly and distant, but willing to accept and give love. Something intrigued her about him and she wanted to learn more about the man behind the scowl.
As the box was set down, he motioned for her to open it. “I brought you some things to keep you occupied,” he said quickly. “No one is allowed to enter except for Lucius and the Dark Lord, so you should be safe enough.”
Her eyes darted to the door before she looked back at him. “Tell me about him?”
Severus watched as she looked in the box and literally squealed. The sound was strange and foreign to him, but she seemed happy enough with the books and such he had brought for her. “The Dark Lord?” he asked, walking away and fixing himself a drink so as not to be expected to look at her.
“Yes.”
“He’s a hard ruler who is intolerant of other’s mistakes. Loyalty is vital for our survival, but he offers little in return. He will ask more of his servants than they are willing to give, but rewards them greatly when they achieve their goal.”
“Well, that seems rather tame,” she said and he felt her eyes boring into him as he threw the drink to the back of his throat and grimaced.
Severus withdrew his wand and muttered a spell around the room. “You must always remember,” he said seriously while walking closer to her, “that there will be ears where you least expect them. The Dark Lord is not tame, nor is he a kind man in any way. He’s cold, cruel, and calculating. He assesses any situation and manages to change things to suit his needs and his alone. He’s power hungry and lacks the abilities of compassion along with most other human emotions. His intelligence is unprecedented, he’ll use the cleverest of trickeries to achieve his means and when it comes to politics, he plays them all.”
“Unscrupulous…cunning…Machiavellian. I got it,” she murmured. “But they say that absolute power…”
“Corrupts absolutely,” he finished for her. “It is true he has taken the leap from ruler to tyrant.”
“It’s nice to know that you have a good grasp of the situation then,” he smirked.
“Yea, and here I was thinking that Bloody Mary was evil.”
“Bloody Mary?” he asked in confusion.
“Sorry, she’s an American witch. Hundreds of years ago, when witches were being prosecuted and those ignorant of our true abilities were burning them at the stake, an old witch was killing young girls and stealing their youth. She was pretty gory about the entire affair and really added fuel to the already raging anti-witch fire.”
“Bloody Americans,” he mumbled.
“At least we don’t call everything bloody. I mean honestly,” she said, grinning at his bemused expression.
“That was rather interesting, then,” he amended.
She chuckled softly, then stood from the couch and clutched the pillow tightly to her chest. He watched her curiously as she walked closer to him. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked warily.
“Nope, not a thing,” she said cheerfully. “Actually, I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me, considering the circumstances, and if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.”
The glint in her eye made him almost as nervous as the Dark Lord’s wand and he slowly backed away from her, only to find his knees hitting the chair seconds before he fell into it. At least with the Dark Lord, he thought, he had experience and knew what to do.
“Can I get you another drink?” she asked sweetly, slowly walking around behind him.
“I suppose.”
“Okay, just one thing first,” she said and he snorted, knowing he was right to assume she was up to something. What he didn’t expect, however, was the pillow smacking him in the back of his head.
“What the hell?!” he asked angrily, quickly jumping from his chair and spinning around to face her--wand drawn.
She was grinning at him. “That is the price you pay for insulting Americans,” she chuckled, ignoring his anger and his wand as she threw the pillow on the couch and laughed loudly when he flinched. Her laughter stopped abruptly when he stormed from the room, leaving her alone once more.
Okay, he had overreacted, Severus thought after hours of contemplation. That was obvious enough, but what was he supposed to do about it and why did he care what she thought? How could one woman expect to make jokes and laugh when she had landed herself in a situation as grave as this one? A situation which required him to protect her, even if he himself felt off kilter around her.
He slowly opened the door, ready to explain the severity of things to her once more, when the pitiful whimpers coming from the bed caught his attention. His wand offered the only light and he walked quietly to the bed and gazed down upon her sleeping form. She was having a nightmare. He also realized he had forgotten to bring her the clothes she had requested and she lay sleeping in her robes. Feeling like an arse, he lay his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.
“Wake up, woman.”
He didn’t expect her to reach out and grab his wrist and he certainly didn’t expect her to pull his arm over her and hold it tightly. The contact served to calm her considerably, but was rather uncomfortable for him. Sighing heavily, he did the only thing he could think to do at the moment; he lay down beside her and pulled her close to him, hoping she would release her hold on him soon and he could go home to his own bed and try to forget the way her soft body felt against his.
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