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A World Not Fit To Live In	By : snowblind12 & Lissa Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 78125 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: These characters and the Harry Potter world belong to J K Rowling and her publishers. I make nothing from this story and I own none of it. It is based off the work of JK Rowling.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter Nineteen
BETA: Raynepheonix2
Lucius gently loosened his grip on Hermione’s head to stop her ministrations on his rapidly deflating cock the moment Draco had Apparated back to the Manor. He felt extremely discombobulated. Draco’s presence has taken him from hot and wanting to frigid in the matter of seconds. The girl kneeling before him had been a writhing mass of ecstasy in his arms only to freeze in horror when his son’s voice had broken through their lust-fueled haze.
He forewent the use of his wand and made the decision that helping her dress by hand may give her time to calm. As he clothed himself similarly, he watched her as she smoothed her dress before turning to face him. Her face was epically stoic, but her eyes held a wild terror. His stomach dropped to the soles of his feet as he saw the tears fill her eyes when he returned her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. For the first time, he didn’t question why he apologized to her. He was sorry for all of it. For letting Draco catch them (he would have to reset the wards to include the stables and grounds), for the fact that he was going to hand-deliver her to the unrecognizable man he called his son, for the fact that Draco obviously had something even more awful planned for her after he raped and tortured her again.
“I know.” Her words were strangled, and he couldn’t help his actions. He pulled her tightly into his arms and pressed a wordless kiss to the top of her head.
“I will not be far away, but I will not be able to go with you to the Dark Lord unless I am summoned.”
“I understand,” she whispered. The sound was muffled against his chest.
He stood with her wrapped in his embrace for what felt like an eternity. Something would not let him be the first to let go – he had to allow her to be the one to pull away. He wanted her to take the strength she needed from him as she was the one who would have to endure the next hours…he would just be a useless bystander.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said finally as she disentangled herself from him.
Lucius held out his arm and within moments they were standing outside of Draco’s bedroom door. When she started to tremble uncontrollably, he almost scooped her up and Apparated them away. How could he keep allowing this to happen to her? How could he not? If they ran, they’d be hunted. He had the mark; he could be traced.
He heard her words again – was that really only days ago? “You could give me a wand and a portkey to Paris.” Could he die for her? He just…he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he could give his life for the girl. Put under the strain of torture… He scoffed internally. He was a coward, and he feared that he would give her up if tortured.
“When it’s over, I will be here. I will have Tinny pay attention, she will call if things get out of hand again,” he promised in a low, rushed voice.
She gave him a very weak, tremulous smile before shooing him with a hand motion.
Lucius watched in wonder as she steeled herself and pushed the bedroom doors open. She didn’t look back as she disappeared inside.
Hermione was terrified. After what happened with Draco in the pool room, she could finally admit that he scared her out of her mind. She didn’t know what had happened to him, but the weak, sniveling boy she had known at Hogwarts was completely gone. In his place was this sadistic young man. A young man who was much larger and stronger than her physically, and who hated her with a depth she didn’t deserve and would never, ever be able to understand.
Hermione crossed the room and removed her dress, leaving her in a black satin bra with matching stockings. She knelt next to his bed with her hands in her lap and her eyes on the ground. She could hear him in the bathroom and hoped to help herself by being completely submissive to him. She would call him sir, she wouldn’t look him in the eye unless he commanded it…and she would keep her temper under control.
The only thing she had going for her in this situation was that, if he was going to kill her – like when he had almost drowned her in the pool, she would be able to stop him using wandless magic.
“How does my father get you to behave like such a good little slut?” Draco drawled. Hermione jumped, and her trembling only increased. Her stomach roiled, and she worried she would be sick. “Answer me truthfully.”
“He is kind to me, sir” she told him hurriedly.
Draco made a disgusted sound in the back of this throat. “Well, that’s just no fun. Why would I be kind to you? You deserve what you get. Don’t you think?”
“Yes sir,” she answered automatically. If her body shook any harder, she’d fly into a million pieces. She tried to calm herself by pulling breaths in through her nose. In – one, two, three, four; out – one, two, three, four.
“Are you scared of me, Mudblood?” He was standing in front of her now. She could see bare feet, legs with wiry blonde hair, and the hem of a towel.
She closed her eyes, and the tears of terror she’d been keeping at bay slipped down her cheeks. She cursed herself internally for her fear. It wasn’t like it was irrational, however. This…monster…had done nothing but torment her and brutalize her from the first day. “Yes sir,” she whispered, hating the sound of her own voice at that moment.
“Good.”
Hermione was shocked when he walked away from her without touching her, but her relief was short lived. “Stand and do something with that mop of a rat’s nest you call hair. I need it out of my way.”
She despised the way she scrambled to her feet. She had nothing to secure her hair with and didn’t know what to do with it. Hermione gathered it in her hands and twisted it in a messy bun on top of her head. Then she held it there with her mind whirling as to how to pin it in place. Quietly, when she realized Draco had disappeared into his wardrobe, she called for Tinny who appeared immediately.
“Tinny,” she whispered quickly. “The young master has ordered my hair up and out of the way, I have nothing to fasten it. Could you –?” She didn’t have to finish the request. Tinny snapped her fingers and instantly, Hermione’s hair was secured in place. “Thank you, my darling little elf,” she told Tinny with sincere appreciation.
Tinny was gone by the time Draco returned from his closet. She watched him through lowered eyelashes as he dragged a chair around from his desk and pointed at it. “Sit, Mudblood.” She moved to it and sat with as little sound as possible.
“Incarcerous!” he snarled the moment her bottom touched the seat of the chair. She whimpered as her fear renewed and the trembling (that had calmed somewhat as nothing awful had happened yet) grew even more pronounced as her arms, legs, and torso were secured to the chair with bindings that flew out of his wand.
“Do you know what the Dark Lord told me tonight, Mudblood?” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, before he continued without an answer from her. “He told me that you tested powerfully…more than powerfully. At the highest potency there is without matching the Dark Lord, himself.” The tone of his voice was full of disgust, it was obvious that Draco found her magical ability abhorrent.
“I was taunted…taunted…before of a room full of Death Eaters because you could…because you have overpowered me.” He stopped talking again, but his breathing had grown erratic with obvious fury. He took a moment to calm himself before he continued, “I have pleased him, though, Mudblood. I’ve brought him a wonderful gift. A gift that took me these past weeks to track down, collect, and return to him. It was no small feat – this task. Because of this, because of my dedication to him, he had a gift for me.” Here, he held out a simple necklace. It was a ring of some sort of crystal and was very, very pale purple in color. Possibly goblin- or Elvin-made.
“Do you know what this is, Mudblood?”
“No sir,” she whispered, looking at curiously.
“This is a collar,” he murmured. His tone had changed exponentially and caused a chill to course through her. “Goblin forged crystal tanzanite…do you know what it will do?”
“No sir.”
He let a laugh; a sadistic laugh of pleasure. “The brightest witch of the age doesn’t know the answer to my question?”
“I don’t, sir.” Her voice sounded small to her own ears.
“Well, let me be the first to enlighten you… This necklace will bind your magic, Mudblood.”
Her eyes flew to his in horror. Bind her…bind her magic?! He grinned at her maliciously, knowing her thoughts exactly. “Please no,” she was unable to stop herself from gasping the request.
“Oh yes,” he answered as he slowly moved in front of her. One long-fingered hand slid gently around her neck and she was sure he could feel her heart thrumming a trillion beats a second. He gave a gentle squeeze before releasing her in order to use both hands to open the collar and slip it over her flesh. It was cool and oddly flexible, but that didn’t last.
The moment the crystal touched behind her neck, it burned hot, became rigid, and tightened so it dug just slightly uncomfortably into her skin. “Stunning,” Draco whispered before he pressed a mocking kiss to her forehead. Hermione held herself very still when all she wanted to do was jerk away. He had whispered it like an endearment. As if he were giving her a gift she should be appreciative of.
Then her thoughts were ripped away as the ring of gemstone grew uncomfortably hot, she gasped loudly as she flailed against the bindings, wanting to raise her hands and rip the necklace away. Just before it felt as though it would scorch her skin to ribbons, it cooled and turned into a cold lead weight against her throat.
“If you try and use magic against anyone, it will heat as it gathers the energy. As soon as it collects the energy away from you, so you’re unable to use it, it will cool and harden. Only people who have the Dark Mark can remove it.” He watched her watch him with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Suddenly, his face cleared, all trace of evilness gone as he amicably suggested. “Let’s get started, shall we? Best not to keep the Dark Lord waiting.”
Her mind reeling from shock that her ability to use her wandless magic had just been completely stripped from her, Hermione didn’t even think to fight him as he cancelled the Incarceration Hex and pulled her to stand. For the first time, he removed what was left of her clothing – probably because of the vacant look in her eye that told him she wasn’t finished processing what had just happened.
The next time Hermione was aware of what was going on, she found herself face down on the bed. Her feet were still planted on the floor, but her hands were bound at the small of her back. “I’ve been craving your ass again, Granger,” he was murmuring in that twisted, seductive voice of his. “No numbing creams this time, you’ve had opportunities to get used to being taken like this, I’m sure. My father certainly has had you all to himself for many, many hours. I will use lube, though. More for my pleasure than yours.”
Even though her heart rate accelerated again, Hermione tried to force herself to relax. She knew this would be awful, but so far, the wretch was actually being somewhat gentle with her. He hadn’t slapped her or shoved her. He’s taken away your magic, Hermione!
She felt the spell that indicated he had cleared out her bowels, and she heard him lather himself in what must be lubrication gel – the wet, sloshy sound of him stroking himself. He lined himself up at her rear entrance. “Brace yourself, darling.” His tone had turned evil again, and he mocked her with the endearment. Suddenly, she knew she had been wrong to feel even fractionally at ease. “I won’t be gentle.”
She was unable to hold back the scream as he entered her.
She was sobbing uncontrollably with the pain of his assault when he rolled off her. She had never felt so ashamedin all her life. He had used little slicing hexes on her while he had painfully taken her arse and blood dripped from the cuts that were literally all over her body. Her breasts were once again covered in bite bruises and she could feel the stickiness of blood and ejaculate leaking out of her.
“Get dressed,” he growled, taking her by the arm and tossing her to the floor where her pile of clothing lay. She desperately tried to control her breath, to stop the sobs. She knew he was taking her to see Voldemort now – but she didn’t know why.
Shakily, she dressed herself. She couldn’t stop herself from wincing when she noticed blood from the dozens of cuts that littered her body were seeping through the gown. The moment she slipped her shoes on, he grabbed her roughly by the elbow, turned on the spot, and Apparated them with no warning.
She dropped to her knees the moment they arrived and her stomach – upset from the entire experience with Draco and rolling because of the side-along Apparition – heaved and she expelled her dinner in front of her the moment they landed.
“Watch it. Merlin you are a disgusting little cunt!” he snarled at he as he back away from her pool of sick.
She didn’t respond, just sucked in deep breaths through her mouth before she spat forcefully and wiped the sick from her chin with the back of her hand. She forced herself to stand and follow him. They appeared to be at some large, ancient house. She felt like she was going to vomit all over again when she saw the surname “Lestrange” twisted into the iron of the gates. She forced herself to focus, to follow Draco’s white-blond head as they made their way inside and twisted through the hallways of the estate. Within a few strides, he was meters ahead of her. She flinched when he looked over his shoulder at her and, noticing how far behind she was, let out a string of expletives.
She froze and shrank back when he turned on his heel and stalked back to her. Once he reached her, he grabbed her arm roughly and literally dragged her after him while ignoring her pitiful mewls of discomfort. The hex slices burned with each breath she took, her stomach rolled with the movement, and her bottom protested each step.
Draco was unusually quiet as he led Hermione along the maze of rooms and hallways. His bruising grip on her forearm left her no choice but to keep up with the quick stride of his long and determined legs. She realized they must be getting close to their destination when she began to hear the soft baritone of male voices. When Draco halted before a set of heavy French doors, she peeked up to see that his face was tense, and his eyes were hard and focused. Looking back in front of her, the doors were somewhat intimidating with large brass handles and intricate vine carvings along their panels.
Draco let out a deep exhale of air. It was obvious he was on edge. She wondered if his mission had been some sort of test. He certainly wasn’t exhibiting his normal cocky swagger. He spared her a glance, his lip turned up into a sneer. “Don’t speak unless spoken to and don’t move unless instructed.”
Hermione couldn’t help but to nod in understanding, his nervousness had her almost in a panic. She watched as he tapped his wand on one of the handles and whispered his name. The ominous doors swung open revealing a large antechamber where several witches and wizards were convened. It was quite a large crowd which included, much to Hermione’s relief, Lucius and Severus. Lucius must have received a summons, after all. The wizards glanced at her entrance but paid no interest before looking away and resuming their intimate conversation. Hermione couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at their disinterest in her arrival. It was likely for show, but it still stung. Draco dragged her over to join them.
Hermione had to keep herself from cringing when the sneering drawl of the Lucius Malfoy of old greeted her ears. She had forgotten he could sound that way. “Draco, really. You could have allowed the girl to put on a clean dress and fix her face and hair. What will the others think?” Frankly, she had forgotten he could look that way as well – snooty…haughty… infallible. It reminded her of all those years ago at the bookstore in Diagon Alley. It was hard to believe that was only five years ago. It felt like a lifetime.
Feeling self-conscious, Hermione peeked down at herself. Her dress was littered with patches of dried blood from Draco’s earlier torture. The cuts were still painful as they had not been healed. She had been too distracted to notice, but now they were screaming at her. She looked back up at Lucius to find he was watching her. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes…his eyes met hers for the briefest of flashes and she could see the concern in them. It was a such a simple thing, that flash of worry, but it calmed her more than she could express. He was here with her and he would do his best to protect her, she knew that. Even if his best would still be the absolute minimum.
At his father’s rebuke, Draco looked at Hermione with his hard and glowering gaze. He scrutinized her face and hair before he glanced down to her wrinkled and blood-stained dress. With a slight roll of his eyes, he whispered, “Tinny!”
Instantly a loud pop was heard at their feet, and the small elf was looking up with large and nervous eyes.
“Fix that,” Draco ordered, gesturing towards her as though she were merely the wobbly leg on a table.
She offered Tinny a tentative smile in thanks when the elf snapped her fingers, and Hermione felt the hair shift on her head. Unable to see herself, she could only guess by the look on the men’s faces that she was presentable. She glanced down and found her midnight blue dress to now be as perfect as when she first put it on. The blood stains were gone, however the cuts remained hidden underneath and were still painful. They must have clotted over as there was no fresh blood leaking through the fabric.
With a second pop, the elf was gone.
When she looked back up towards Lucius, she found his focus was on her neck. She immediately reached up and felt her new collar. The necklace that was binding her magic. His eyes moved to hers for the merest of seconds before shooting to Draco.
“A new collar for our charge, I see. I don’t recall you asking my permission for such a thing.”
“I hardly need your permission to do as our Lord instructs.”
It was Snape who responded. “The Dark Lord commanded this?”
Draco looked away from the doors to his Godfather with a victorious grin on his face. “He - and I agree wholeheartedly - feels she needs to be kept in her place. She cannot be allowed to have flashes of such magic. She is a Mudblood, she doesn’t deserve such a skill.”
Snape’s expression was inscrutable as he studied his Godson for a moment. “I think, Draco, you might be misinterpreting something of great importance. This collar you seem so pleased about speaks more of your lack of ability to control her than anything else.” He looked about the room. “You seem terribly pleased that your captive needs to have her magic bound in order for you to…contain her.”
Hermione couldn’t help the internal jump for joy at the sudden pained and frustrated look on Draco’s face. She felt a flush of pride for herself and a huge amount of gratitude towards her old professor. She peeked up to find he was looking around the room again as though bored.
Draco on the other hand, became fidgety. It was obvious that Severus’ words disturbed him greatly. He didn’t say anything, though. Instead, he kept his attention on a second set of doors which were flanked by two masked Death Eaters.
“Draco, why so nervous?” Lucius asked with what, on the surface, seemed to be mild interest.
Draco shot his father a self-important glare. “You’ll find out soon enough, Father. That is if that blasted door ever opens and allows us entry.”
Hermione didn’t miss the shared look between the two older wizards. They seemed as in the dark as she was.
All heads turned towards the second set of doors when they flew open, allowing a confident and smirking Bellatrix Lestrange to exit. When she spotted Draco, she sauntered over. Ignoring Hermione completely, and barely sparing a nod for Lucius and Severus, she fawned over her nephew. “Ohh, Drakie. I’m so proud of you.”
To Hermione’s astonishment, Draco practically blushed at his aunt’s praise. “Thanks, Aunt Trix. I couldn’t have done it without Uncle Rod’s help.”
She practically purred as she stroked his cheek with a long, red nail. “Well then, be sure to give credit where credit is due before our Lordship.”
“Of course,” he agreed readily.
“In that case, he is waiting for you.”
“Excellent,” Draco offered in return. “Are you coming to watch the show?”
Bellatrix smiled playfully. “Of course, nephew. I wouldn’t miss your,” her focus shifted to Hermione, “big moment.”
Hermione could feel Lucius tense beside her. Clearly, he was apprehensive. For her part, Hermione was part terrified and part curious. Draco had implied multiple times that she would take great interest in his mission. While she knew it would likely be something truly horrible, she couldn’t help her own morbid curiosity. Snape was the only one who seemed unfazed and disinterested in the conversation.
Draco grabbed her arm roughly before turning to Lucius. “Are you coming Father? Severus?”
Both men nodded their assent and followed.
They entered what was essentially a throne room. It was a large, rectangular space, with huge stone fireplaces adorning the long walls to the entrance’s right and left. Straight ahead, at the end of the room was a large, regal chair where Voldemort sat in voluminous and heavy black robes. Hermione couldn’t be sure, but it seemed the self-appointed king looked smaller somehow. He was still terrifying to look at, but it was as though his robes were too big for him.
As the small group walked the length of the long room, Hermione felt more and intimidated by the space. It had a medieval feel to it and she found herself wondering just how old this Manor was. This particular room was very castle like. The brick and stone walls were all covered with large, wool tapestries while the floor as adorned with various rugs, animal skins, and fur. From the ceiling hung six monstrous, multi-tiered iron chandeliers. Each arm held a wax candle. Large sconces were spaced at even intervals along the walls and between the hangings. Flames and shadows danced as though playing hide and seek.
As they moved closer to the monster whose audience they were seeking, Hermione felt her terror rise again and struggled to keep up with the young blond sadist. Why am I here? What do I have to do with this? Is Draco going to kill me? Is murdering me his big moment? Or was she here to witness the death of another? Perhaps she would be the first victim of a new potion or hex? Something Draco created maybe? She knew she should stop trying to guess; she was only making things worse.
When they were about ten feet from the dais, Draco fell to his knees as did Lucius, Snape, and Bellatrix. A hard pull on her arm had Hermione on her knees as well.
“Ahh, Draco. Your big night has finally arrived. Your…punishment for your little Mudblood. I see you have brought Lucius and Severus with you…how delightful.” His eyes then moved to Bellatrix. “Back so soon, Bella?” He gestured to a pillow to the left of his chair. “Here my pet, sit beside me.” Hermione knew without question the witch was stark raving mad when she eagerly rushed to her master’s side and kneeled on the pillow as though it was the happiest moment of her life.
Hermione internally flinched when the monster’s thin and spidery hand reached out and stroked Bellatrix’s head. As though he could read Hermione’s mind, he smiled grotesquely to show yellow teeth the color of mustard. “Lucius tells me you are coming to accept your place in this new world. Does he speak truthfully? Are you prepared to end your defiance?”
Hermione’s mouth was bone dry. “I…yes, sir. I humbly apologize for my past behavior. My only wish is to not give offense and to be of some small use to your Lordship.” The words tasted like ash. She hated the sound of them. She hated to submit, even if it was a lie. She could feel Lucius relax a touch as he remained kneeling to her right. Draco, who was to her left, let out a small indignant scoff.
“You have something to add, young Draco?”
The younger Malfoy kept his head bowed. “She still fights, my Lord. She still resists her new world.”
“Ahh yes, Lucius wrote to me of your latest…scuffle. However, she is collared now. I hardly see how that will be a problem going forward.”
Suddenly Hermione was struck with a new panic. With her magic bound, would she still be able to Occlude? What if he looked into her mind and saw her true magic sphere?
“Besides, Lucius doesn’t seem to encounter the same struggles that you do. Therefore, she will remain collared when under your charge. Lucius, however, can choose whether he wishes her to remain so when in her presence.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” Lucius responded reverently.
It took all her control not to laugh at the insult. Draco had to be fuming. She would likely pay for it later, but she would enjoy his misery while she could.
“This all leads us to why we are here.” His voice rang out with a false resigned air to it. “It saddens me that it has come to this, but Draco has a right to punish you for your assaults on his person, Hermione. You are his to do with as he chooses, and you are not allowed to fight him.
She hated the sound of her name coming out of his mouth. Call me Mudblood. Call me whore. Call me anything, but please don’t make me cringe at my own name.
Then his words hit her – she was here for a punishment. A public one. And it involved Draco’s mission.
Suddenly, she knew. Oh God! No! Her eyes welled with tears as the worst punishment came to mind. Her body began to tremble, and she broke out in a cold sweat. Please let me be wrong!
“Well, Draco. It is time.” The despot announced ominously. “Bring them in, Wormtail.” He then waved his hand dismissively at Draco and his entourage. “You may stand.”
Hermione’s legs were like rubber. She felt weak. Sick. It was Lucius who reached down and cupped her upper arm. “Stand, Miss Granger.” The bond forced her to find the strength and, with his help, she made it to her feet.
She closed her eyes, praying that by some miracle she was mistaken. A small voice, the voice of reason, told her it was impossible. How would Draco even find them. She could feel the blond’s hateful and expectant glare on her but refused to look.
It felt as though her guts had fallen to the floor as all hope vanished suddenly; she would recognize their footsteps anywhere. Her parents, now known as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. Unable to stop herself, she turned her head and watched their approach with agonized eyes.
Their expressions held confusion as they glanced about the faces in the room. The pain of them not recognizing her was overshadowed by her fear for their lives. Their focus paused on Draco before moving toward the grotesque thing on the modified throne. Hermione didn’t fault her mother for her inability to conceal her shock at the snake man before her.
Hermione’s first tear fell when her father spoke.
“Steven, what’s going on?” His questioning eyes were back on Draco.
Hermione couldn’t help but look up at the younger Malfoy to find he was smirking maliciously. “First off, call me Draco. It’s my real name, after all.”
“Dell? What’s going on?” Hermione’s mother asked quietly.
“My question exactly,” he responded. “Young man? Please explain yourself.”
Draco’s malevolent smile grew wider. “With pleasure. You see, you are here…not as my guest…not to spend a weekend with the financier of your new, stupid little bed and breakfast. You are here as prisoners. Prisoners whose very lives hang on the balance of the compliance and servitude of…your daughter here to my right.” His confidence grew as he spoke. He was so pleased with himself it made Hermione sick.
“Daughter?” The Grangers’ eyes were suddenly on her. There was no recognition or understanding in them. “You are mistaken…Steven, or whatever your name is…we don’t have a daughter,” Wendell rebutted.
The gleeful laugh and accompanying clap from the demon spawn sitting on the throne caused all eyes to turn his way. “Oh, Draco! Such entertainment you manage to provide!” He looked down at Bellatrix. “Do be a dear and allow the others from the foyer to enter. I think our young Draco deserves an audience in recognition of his hard work.” Bellatrix was on her feet quickly and dashed off on her task.
He looked back at Draco. “How did you find them?”
Draco bowed his head in servitude. “No task is too great when requested by My Lord. I enlisted the guidance of Rodolphus. His tracker abilities are well known.”
“Yes, yes. Please continue.” He gestured back towards Hermione’s parents, clearly more interested in the show than Draco’s actual response.
Hermione heard the clacking of heels and boots as more Death Eaters and recruits entered the large room. She stared at her parents with apologetic eyes as their confusion and fear continued to mount.
Hermione’s mother’s voice was panicked. “Please! What is going on?”
Draco turned to Hermione. “Why don’t you explain, Mudblood. They are your parents after all.”
Lucius was stunned and, what was worse, he was essentially paralyzed. He could do nothing. It was Narcissa all over again. He tried to maintain his composure and held his Occlumency without pause. He couldn’t risk his feelings on the matter discovered but behind those shields his concern for Hermione had him wishing he could pull her into his arms and take her far away, hide her, and protect her. He looked back towards his Lord. No, it would never work. He would be found; by Rodolphus or another of the bloodhounds amongst the Death Eater ranks.
He watched in silent support as Hermione did as Draco said. She turned towards her parents who obviously held no recollection of her. What was worse, their irritation and anger were only slightly overshadowed by their fear.
His eyes fell on Hermione’s mother. It was uncanny how much Hermione looked like her. The shape of her face, her mouth and nose…but it was the eyes – a warm and chocolatey brown. They were expressive and showed the same vulnerability that Hermione’s often held despite her best efforts to conceal that side of herself. He glanced down her figure and it was like looking into a crystal ball. This was what Hermione would look like in another thirty years. A slightly heavier frame, but not fat. Hips that were shapely beneath a slim waist. Hermione’s mother was a lovely woman.
Lucius then glanced at Hermione’s father and could see where the hair came from. Before he could make any more comparisons, he was pulled from his observations when Hermione tentatively spoke. Her voice was slightly shaky but became more grounded as the words spilled from her lips. “Draco is telling you the truth. My name is Hermione Granger. I’m your daughter. You don’t remember me because your memories were modified so that you would forget you had a child. I did it to protect you.” She looked about the room. “From this.”
It was Snape who said what Lucius was thinking. “Perhaps, the best course of action is to reverse the memory charm.”
Hermione looked to her right in response to the black-haired wizard. “I…I don’t know how. I always intended to learn…if I survived, that is. Regardless, with this collar on…I have no magic.”
“Magic?” Wendell started to laugh. “This is all a joke, right?” He looked at his wife. “Any minute now someone will jump out and yell, ‘Surprise, you’re on candid camera!”
Monica didn’t laugh, she just kept staring at Hermione. Lucius noticed her forehead crinkled just like Hermione’s when Hermione was trying to figure something out. Her voice was soft, just above a whisper. “I’ve seen you before. In my dreams.” Her eyes began to well. “I always wanted a daughter. When I was in college, I decided that if I ever had one, she would be named Hermione.” She swallowed. “I love Shakespeare, you see.”
Hermione began to cry. “I know you do, Mum. You used to read it to me every night when I was a little girl.”
It was then that Monica’s tears began to fall. “I dreamt that. I dreamt about reading to a little girl who looked just like me.” Her eyes shot to her husband’s. “Dell, look. Look at her.”
Lucius could tell Hermione was barely keeping it together. He watched as Hermione’s father began to believe; began to understand it might be true. The room was dead silent – all eyes and ears were glued to the drama unfolding.
“This is all very touching, but let’s move along shall we?” Voldemort’s words caused all focus to shoot his way. He gestured to Severus. “Severus, you do it. Restore their memories so that we can speed this process along.”
Hermione looked back towards her prior professor, desperation in her eyes.
Lucius rather hoped the wizard would be unsuccessful. It would only make Hermione’s misery worse if her parents remembered her before they were tortured and likely killed. He had not missed his son’s earlier statement that they were kidnapped to ensure Hermione’s best behavior, but Lucius knew the Dark Lord far better than Draco. It was unlikely the Granger’s would live to see dawn. There were far too many Death Eaters about…and recruits; recruits who were chomping at the bit for a chance to prove just how depraved and creative they could be with Muggle torture.
Severus stepped forward while drawing out his wand. “Keep your eyes open,” he commanded softly at Hermione’s father as he directed his wand at him.
Lucius could see the struggle on the man’s face. He clearly didn’t know whether to agree or fight. When his eyes dipped to his daughter’s, Lucius could see the flash of resignation. “Alright,” he responded.
It was silent as Severus stared into Wendell Wilkins’ eyes. He maintained his focus as he spoke to Hermione. “Impressive, Miss Granger. A scaena quattuor obliviation. This is Master charm level work.”
Lucius was once again stunned. A scaena quattuor oblivation was the deepest and most difficult of them all. It would wipe out only the memories of a specific person, while weaving through the mind and filling the holes with information that kept gaps from becoming troublesome. It was highly complex and impressive magic. Especially for a teenage Muggle-born. The murmurings from around the room proved that others felt the same way.
“Ahh, what a treasure you are Miss Granger,” Voldemort crooned. For the first time, all eyes remained on the action before them instead if turning towards the megalomaniac.
It was then that Lucius noticed his son out of his periphery. Draco was irritated and highly impatient. He wanted to get on with his torture. He wanted to break Hermione and turn her into a shell of the woman she was. Lucius swore to himself he would not let his son succeed.
Hermione, in turn, made no response. She simply kept her focus on her father. After another minute, Severus slid his wand into his sleeve and stepped back.
The transformation was instant. Wendell Wilkins no longer existed, and David Granger fell to his knees as a sob escaped from his chest. “Hermione?”
Hermione flew into her father’s arms, weeping as he held her and rocked her. “Oh, my darling daughter. My little pumpkin. What have we done? What have your mother and I allowed you to get yourself mixed up in?” His words caused Hermione to sob harder.
Hermione’s mother looked from her husband and estranged daughter to Severus. Her plea was desperate. “Please! Give me my daughter back!”
Severus stepped towards Monica, once again reversing an impressive scaena quattour obliviation. When he was finished, Hermione’s mother rushed towards her daughter and Draco made his move. A flick of his wand blasted Hermione across the room and away from her mother’s pending embrace. She crashed into a stand with a sculptured bust, causing it to topple over. She let out a squeal when the heavy piece landed on her leg.
“Hermione!” Jane Granger screamed and started to run across the room towards her daughter.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Draco said in a sing-song voice. Another flick of his wand caused Hermione’s mother to fall backwards.
“Jane!” The muggle man bellowed, dashing to his wife and assisting her to stand.
Draco surprised Lucius with his good sense when he turned to the Dark Lord and asked, “Any requests or restrictions, My Lord?”
“No more or less than we discussed earlier, Draco. Go ahead. Have your fun.”
Draco smiled, wickedly. “Thank you, My Lord.” He then looked back at Hermione who was now standing and starting to limp towards her parents. “No. You stay there.” Hermione stopped, aggravation and tears on her face. He then looked at Lucius. “Father, don’t interfere.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Draco. You’ve outdone yourself.” Lucius responded with a fake show of pride on his face. Underneath the façade was growing concern for his girl. She was clearly in pain and small patches of blood were beginning to leak through her dress. He noticed the worst spot was on her abdomen and her dress had a tear where she had had to pull it to get it out from under the heavy sculpture. It was a miracle the thing hadn’t fallen on her head and killed her.
Draco smirked in response and silence descended over the room as he sauntered towards the Muggle couple. His voice was polite, as though he were making introductions at a social gathering. “First off, please. Introductions are in order.”
He gestured towards Voldemort. “The esteemed and powerful wizard you see to your right is the Dark Lord. Consider yourselves honored to be in his presence. My name is Draco Malfoy,” he said with a slight bow of his head, “and that man that resembles me is my father, Lucius Malfoy. To his right is my Godfather and Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. The lovely woman you see next to our Lord is my Aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband, Rodolphus is…” he peered about the room. “Ahh, there he is.” He laughed before sharing conversationally, “Forgive him. He’s just acquired a new Mudblood and he simply can’t keep his cock out of her.
“Uncle, I know Lizzie is a treat, but please…join in the fun, won’t you?”
There was scattered laughter and cat calls about the room as Rodolphus grunted, “Almost finished here.”
Lucius looked up at the dais to see the Dark Lord was laughing and looking quite pleased with the performance.
“The other faces you see are more Death Eaters and recruits who wish to be of service to his Lordship.” He let out a breath. “Whew. Oh, and just so you understand. Your daughter is bonded to myself as well as my father, which means she has to do what we say, when we say – at all times.”
He looked back towards Hermione. “Meow like the pretty little pussy you are, Mudblood.” Hermione began to mewl like a cat.
When her father growled, “You bastard!” and started to lunge toward Draco, the young Malfoy was ready for it. “Crucio.” Hermione’s mewls became drowned out by the sound of her father’s screams.
Jane Granger fell to her knees, crying for her husband who was writhing on the floor before her. Draco lifted the hex to the sound of laughter and yells of ‘encore’ from the crowd.
Lucius only had eyes for Hermione and kept his attention on her. She was bawling as cat-like sounds choked out of her mouth. He felt sick – the scene before him was obscene – and he was ashamed. He had been cruel like Draco, at one time. He had never brutalized women, but he had certainly raped them and tormented them for sport. It had been many years since he had found enjoyment in such behavior, though.
Draco beckoned Hermione over and ordered her to cease with the cat sounds causing Bellatrix to stop laughing and let out a disappointed sigh.
“So, where were we? Oh yes. Now that you know who we are, lets learn who you are.” He smiled heartlessly at Hermione as she hobbled over. “Why don’t you introduce your parents.”
Hermione’s voice was raw and sounded strained. “Everyone, these are my parents, David and Jane Granger.”
There were mocking and teasing greetings from about the room.
“Delighted.”
“Charmed, I’m sure.”
“Your daughter has great tits.”
Draco chuckled. “Yes, she certainly does.” He looked up at David. “But then again, you probably know that, don’t you?” The room grew silent. “Hmm? How about it? Have you seen your daughter’s tits before?”
David was now standing, his face full of loathing. “Of course not! She’s my daughter!”
Draco lazily scanned up and down Jane Granger. “Does her mother have nice tits?” He smiled conspiratorially at David, “Come now, you can tell me.”
Lucius could see where this was going but, for the life of him, he could do nothing to make it stop.
“What? You won’t tell me?” Draco pouted. He looked about the room. “Well, is anyone else curious?”
There were claps and whistles and various responses.
“I am.”
“Let’s see ‘em.”
“They look kind of small.”
Draco scanned the now large crowd. It seemed many had been summoned to the fun. “Ahh, Macnair. You want to do the honors?”
“My pleasure,” his gruff voice responded as the sound of his heavy boots approached from the back of the room.
Draco looked back at Jane’s horrified face. “Tell me, are there limits to what you would do to save your daughter’s life?”
Jane swallowed heavily, her eyes on Hermione. Her voice was strong, and Lucius saw a great deal of Hermione in her defiant expression and tone. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.” She began to speak to her daughter directly. “Hermione, I love you. Whatever happens. Know that!”
As Macnair came up behind Jane and pulled her away from the clutches of her husband, Hermione cried harder. “I’m so sorry Mummy. I’m sorry!”
When David charged after Macnair, another whispered “Crucio” had the man writhing on the floor once again. The focus of the room seemed to shift from the father on the floor to the mother having her clothes torn from her body. When the curse was ended, and David Granger lay whimpering and panting on the floor, Hermione did the only thing she could. She begged. She turned to Draco with imploring eyes and desperate words. “Please, sir. Please, I’ll do anything. ANYTHING! Please! Just don’t hurt them. They are innocent.”
Draco turned on her, fury in his eyes. “Innocent? Innocent, you say?” He looked back at the now topless woman whose breasts were being fondled by the large, ape like hands of Macnair. Glancing down at the defeated man on the floor, he shook his head in disgust. “They are not innocent. They created you! You are an abomination; you are worth nothing more than the warm cunt between your thighs.”
Draco looked back at the brute Death Eater towering over Hermione’s mother. “Have a go if you want.”
Macnair grinned. “Well, since you offered.”
Draco then looked at his Father. “Father? Forgive me. I should have given her to you first.”
Lucius looked from Draco to Hermione. “While I appreciate the offer, I have no desire to sully my cock on a Muggle. It is bad enough we have to dirty ourselves with that.” Lucius died just a little on the inside when he saw more light go out of the girl’s eyes. He hadn’t meant it. She had to know that!
Draco laughed. “I see your point, Father. Still, there are many here whom I doubt hold themselves to your standards.”
When Lucius looked back at Macnair, it was to find him buried balls deep in Jane Granger, her mouth gagged with cloth as he bent her over a side table. A crowd was forming around the assault. Draco pulled Hermione over to her mother. “Don’t look away, Mudblood. This is your doing. You caused this. You fought the bond. You fought me.”
He stepped closer to Hermione’s mother, bending down and whispering into her ear as her body jolted with each brutal thrust of her rapist. “This is your daughters doing. You would still be working on that little ocean front cottage if she hadn’t forced me to come looking for you.” He smirked cruelly as the woman made pained noises and grunts with each intrusion of Macnair’s cock. “Oh, look Mudblood – mummy’s crying.” He gathered Jane’s tears on the tip of a finger before turning to Hermione’s and rubbing his fingers together to spread the liquid. “I do so love it when they cry, you know.”
Draco smirked as Hermione’s tears fell faster down her cheeks before he looked about the faces of the voyeurs. “Have a turn, each of you. We’re running low on time, though. Best you become creative.”
Draco pulled Hermione away from the ensuing gang-bang of her mother and led her back to David who was trying to stand. When Draco released her arm, she stumbled to her father and had just wrapped her arms around him, when Draco ordered her away again.
Her eyes were imploring as she saw the tears stream down her father’s face. He had no choice but to stand by as his wife was being triple penetrated not ten feet away. Hermione began to sob hysterically. “Daddy, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Lucius was impressed as David Granger immediately stopped his tears and wiped his face with his sleeve. He never took his eyes off his daughter. “You listen to me young lady, this is not your fault. You are my brilliant and beautiful little girl. And I love you always…no matter what! Whatever happens here – remember that!” The words caused Hermione to double over in her grief and terror, clutching her stomach as she choked on sobs.
“How droll.” Draco carelessly flipped a hand at a few younger recruits. “Why don’t you gentlemen teach him to hold his tongue? No one wants to hear that sappy nonsense spouting from his mouth. Being that he’s a Muggle – perhaps use Muggle methods, so he’ll understand what’s happening, you know.”
Hermione shrieked and tried to put herself between her father and the four young men who were approaching David. She was unable to move because of Draco’s commands. “Please stop!” she begged when one hopeful Death Eater locked David in a full Nelson from behind while another landed a hard blow to the man’s gut.
Lucius had to enforce his Occlumency shield even more as his son ordered Hermione to watch her parents closely as they were tormented, so she would learn her lesson. Her pallor grew more and more white with each blow her father took and each screech of pain that emanated from her mother. He saw when her legs gave out and she dropped into a tall kneel while she begged Draco to stop their torment and promised she would never defy him again. She apologized over and over again between broken screams and gasp of air.
It was minutes that felt like hours before Voldemort spoke. “Enough! I’ve grown bored, Draco. I think you’ve had plenty of fun for one evening. I would suffice it to say that Miss Granger has learned her lesson.”
For the first time ever, Hermione was grateful for the Dark Lord. Her words came out muffled and choked and interrupted by hiccoughs. “Yes. Yes, sir. I pro –” hic “promise I won’t ever resist ag –” hic “again. I’ve learned my lesson.” She was trembling. (Had she stopped trembling for even a moment since Draco appeared this evening?) Had there been anything left in her stomach, it would have made a reappearance by now.
Voldemort stood. “We shall see, we shall see. Leave. All of you.” He turned to Bellatrix. “Except for you my pet.”
The assault on Jane Granger instantly stopped, and the men who were beating David dropped him to the ground. As the Death Eaters and recruits adjusted their clothing and refastened their zippers and buttons, Draco ordered, “Get your mother, Mudblood.” Draco ordered.
Hermione rushed to her mother only to find her covered in secretions and sweat. Her eyes were closed, and her naked body shivered as her teeth chattered. Hermione couldn’t help the fresh rush of tears. “Mum, you need to stand. It’s over. Come on, mummy.” Jane moaned and winced as she struggled to right herself. David painfully pulled himself to stand and moved to his wife’s other side, helping her up along with Hermione. Lucius and Severus moved to lead the way and Draco followed with his exhausted and traumatized Muggle captives and Hermione in tow.
“Oh, Hermione.” The group froze at the sound of Voldemort’s voice from behind them. I meant what I said. It would be a pity for you to lose both your parents. Behave!”
They had just started to walk again, believing him finished speaking when the curse came. “Avada Kedavra!” The sound of the body hitting the floor was followed by a scream of anguish that shook Lucius to the core. His eyes flashed from his witch to Severus in stunned surprise when her collar arched out flashes of bright-white light and pulses of energy that caused his hair to blow. It was magnificent and heartbreaking at the same time. He swallowed, battling disappointment and relief when the collar finally overcame her magic. He looked away, reinforcing his Occlumency shields, when Hermione collapsed to her knees, sobbing… Broken.
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A World Not Fit To Live In