Filthy Little Mudblood | By : Lupinswolfie Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 30412 -:- 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. |
Severus could hear the banging before he entered the room. The sounds of objects being slammed into nearby walls and the subsequent screams of frustration, did not bode well for his own personal well-being. The Dark Lord was angry, very angry. Bracing himself against the pain that was sure to come, and disregarding the strange sense of desolation and resolve that he felt was coming from Hermione, he unwarded the door and quietly walked in.
Crouching down on the floor in a position of false respect, he calmly asked, “You sent for me, Milord?”
The objects stopped flying and a very agitated Dark Lord gripped the edges of the table before him tightly, the knuckles of his already pale hands turning even whiter. “Rise,” he said with agitation and more than a small amount of anger.
Severus did as he was told and gasped when he looked at Voldemort’s face. It appeared that as the wizard’s anger and frustration grew to heights that even Severus hadn’t seen before, his facial features began changing swiftly from that of the cold, inhuman Lord Voldemort, to that of the cold, but fairly more human Tom Riddle. He watched in shock as the eyes remained the same, but the face changed at a nauseating rate for several seconds before keeping the appearance of Lord Voldemort once more.
“I need to know, Severus,” he started calmly, belaying the evidence of his anger in an attempt to seduce the servant before him into a sense of camaraderie, “and you are to tell me every little detail that may concern the issue.”
“And what is the issue in which you speak, Milord?” he asked warily.
Suddenly the table went flying across the room with amazing strength and Voldemort stood directly before Severus. “I need to know what that witch has done to me!” he shouted, magical energy crackling throughout the room, making Severus cringe inwardly. Fear was not something he normally allowed himself to feel, but in this instance, the emotion was fast becoming overwhelming.
“D…done to you, Milord?” he questioned, knowing who the witch was, but not what she had done and hoping to every deity known to man that the Dark Lord was not aware of their current plans.
“Yes,” he snarled stalking even closer to Severus and watching as the man stood his ground. “What has she done to me?!” he bellowed.
“Perhaps, Milord, if you were to give me more information, then I would be better able to contribute.”
“Crucio,” Voldemort hissed, watching coldly as the brave man before him fell to his knees and then the ground, but refused to scream out in pain. Torturing Severus had never been as much fun for that reason alone.
“Get up,” he snarled again, but his demeanor calmed significantly and he spoke quietly for the first time since Severus’ arrival. “I find myself…confused, disoriented, angry, and have even had the uncharacteristic desire to be nice to her. If she has made a rather poor attempt to poison or to curse me, then I need to know. If potions are at fault, then I will kill her myself.”
“Forgive my boldness, Milord…”
“Speak freely, Severus,” he said, his agitation coming back quickly. “I will not curse you for the truth, which I know you will give to me.”
“Of course, Milord. As I was saying, do you not find yourself angry most of the time? That is nothing new, am I right?” he asked rather bravely.
“Of course I’m angry!” he snarled. “I have servants who couldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of an Arithmancy problem heading missions which seem to fail at an increasing rate! However, never once have I wanted to curse my most trusted and loyal servants for looking at a filthy, little, mudblood whore. I almost killed Bella once before and now I find my wand hand becoming rather eager when Lucius is around. You and the mudblood have become fairly close as of late,” he stated, stopping for a moment as if a sudden revelation had just occurred to him.
“Milord, we are not close in the terms of which you may be thinking.”
“I’m well aware of that, Severus, which is why you are still standing here. I have found myself keeping Lucius away so as to prevent his unnecessary death at my own hand. However, I find that increasingly difficult and every time he’s with the whore, whether I see them or not, I think of ways to kill the man that even push my own boundaries.”
Severus had to use all of his training, from every single minute of being a spy, to keep from showing his shock.
“Milord, if what you’re saying aptly describes how you feel, then I believe you’re experiencing the rather common emotion of jealousy. When she is around anyone else that she may have an interest in, you feel those feelings more acutely.”
The anger that had only recently abated became extremely evident once more. “Jealous?! Need I remind you of who I am, Severus? Of what I have and what I’m to become? I am not jealous, nor do I have the inclination to become so.” He spat the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“I’m afraid Milord, that I have no reason to suspect her of any wrong doing. A poison would have to be given orally and she has no contact with anything that you consume without your presence. A curse would require magic, which she is not allowed to use, and even wandlessly you would know if she did since your magics are shared. One of your trusted servants is with her at all times, leaving the chance to do something against you impossible.”
A chair went flying across the room this time and his face once more began changing from one appearance to another as his control hung in the balance. “SHE HAS DONE SOMETHING!!!” he screamed. “I have felt the effects for awhile now and,” he added coldly before enunciating each of his next words, “I. Want. To. Know. What!”
It was then that the door opened and Hermione walked in slowly. Trepidation bathed her features as she quickly looked from Severus to Voldemort.
‘Careful, Granger,’ he said as he looked from her confused face to the angry wizard approaching her, ‘he’s very angry with you.’
‘With me? What have I …’
“Tell me, witch,” he snarled in disgust as his face remained that of Voldemort, “exactly what you’ve done to me. How did you get a poison into my rooms? How were you able to curse me without the use of magic?”
“Excuse me? Milord, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” she said with a calm innocence, but her shock was evident.
“Of course not,” he mocked. “It must have been someone else. How foolish of me to assume that it was you; you, the only one that it seems to have an effect with.”
“Perhaps, Milord, she is telling the truth,” Severus supplied, realizing how volatile this conversation was and hoping to keep the attention diverted from Hermione. His attempt worked, too well.
With a voice as cold as ice, Voldemort demanded as his hands waved between the three of them when needed. “How dare you accuse me? How dare you even suggest that I am wrong?! I know she has done something, even if I have yet to discover what it is. She stays in my head, makes me rethink things I’ve been doing for decades all with just a look. She has gotten inside of me and twisted everything!”
If Severus was hoping for the best he was sorely disappointed when Voldemort pointed his wand at him and whispered, “Crucio!” once more.
Again, he found himself on the floor, withering in pain and refusing to scream out as his bones felt like they were on fire.
“STOP IT! JUST STOP IT!” he heard Hermione yell as she rushed to Voldemort and groaned at what he assumed the repercussions to be.
The physical pain stopped, but the vision his eyes met with when he looked up hurt far worse than any curse.
“HOW DARE YOU?!” Voldemort suddenly screamed and, with both hands and the added strength of an anger unknown to most, he picked her up by the arms he had pinned to her side and bodily threw her into another table. With a loud crash and a sickening groan, the witch landed and didn’t move.
‘HERMIONE?! Hermione are you alright? Why did you have to do that? Wake up, damn it!’ Severus yelled inside her head, hoping desperately to hear a snooty remark of any kind from the woman laying in a crumpled heap.
Suddenly, Severus was forgotten as Tom stalked to the table and looked down at Hermione. Blood was trickling down from her lip and her eyes were closed. Nothing appeared to be broken, but he could only tell so much as he watched her not moving, not speaking.
“That’s enough, witch,” he said quietly, all anger vanished from his voice and replaced by what appeared to be worry. He closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to clear the foreign emotions and looked back down at her. “I said get up!” he said louder, unfamiliar panic gripping at his chest and making him grab her arms and shake her roughly. “Obey me when I speak and GET UP!” he yelled, shaking her even harder.
He almost dropped her in surprise when she suddenly groaned. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him cautiously. “Tom,” he heard her whisper, his chest constricting once more when she closed her eyes and her body went limp again.
Laying her down, he rounded back on Severus. “Do something! Make her get up or I’ll kill you where you stand!”
Trying desperately not to roll his eyes at the dramatics, Severus took the much desired opportunity and knelt down beside Hermione. Drawing his wand and saying several incantations, he watched as she opened her eyes and feebly made to stand up. Moving him out of the way, she shakily made her way to her feet and glared at Tom.
“Now, tell me what it is you’ve done to me,” he snarled, but the previous melodrama had ceased.
“I have done nothing to you, Milord, nor would I ever,” she said calmly as a faint grin suddenly teased at the corners of her mouth in realization.
“I don’t believe you!“
Tom threw his hand up in the direction of a bookcase and watched in small triumph as his wand made it explode, followed quickly by a small, round table, and a window. Her grin increasing at his half-hearted attempt, Hermione walked confidently up to him and put her hand on his wand arm, slowly stopping the curses and bringing his arm down to a safe level.
He stared at her intently, his eyes moving from her face to her hand, and back again as she readied herself to bare her soul. “Perhaps, Milord,” she said with a hint of amusement, “you find yourself liking me a bit more than you had imagined possible. It is for that reason, and that reason alone, that you think of me when your thoughts should be elsewhere. That you hear my voice when I’m not near, or feel my touch from another room. Perhaps it is for that reason, that you smell my scent, allow your dreams to be filled with my presence, and desire my company above that of others.”
“You’ve bewitched me,” he accused quietly, his appearance swiftly changing to that of Tom and the room quieting around them. “How else would you know what you’ve done to me?”
“Because I suffer from the same affliction. Wanting you. So close to loathing that the two intermingle. The part of us both that still remains human seeks out the other as they twine around like two trees sharing the same branches. Perhaps, Milord, our magics have been trying to tell us that we belong to one another.”
He roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled her sharply, slamming her body against his chest. “Tell me, has bringing the great Dark Lord to his knees amused you, witch?” he asked quietly, staring into her face. His demeanor suddenly changed, however. “You belong to me, witch. You are mine now, and only mine. You have enchanted me in ways that shouldn’t be possible and I won’t let you leave. Say it, witch. Say you belong to me!”
Hermione watched flashes of her life in those few seconds between his demand and her answer; watched scenes as though on screen at a muggle movie and didn’t much like what she saw. She could see her past and the people that were no longer her future, see as her best friends had begun to turn her away. Her focus became solely that of Lucius. She saw herself falling for him, only to be reminded repeatedly of his coldness each and every time that he hurt her. Then she saw Remus, saw as she imagined his beautiful face when the killing curse struck his body, only to later learn it wasn’t true, and she knew then that Lucius did not love her, probably never did. But she worried about their pain and suffering the most. She felt each and every time Severus was tortured, and knew that her feelings for Lucius would not allow her to stand idly by and watch him be cursed either.
“Will you swear to me that you’ll never hurt Severus again, or Lucius?” she asked calmly. “If so, I’ll come to you willingly and no one need ever know you were willing to break your own rules of slave ownership. As I understand it, I can go to you with Lucius’ blessing, but you aren’t supposed to take me away.”
A wicked smile graced his features. “If that is your desire, then I will make it so. However, no one is to know of this agreement. Your death will be mine if the others find out I made any deals with you. Now say it!” he snarled the last bit and she quivered inside.
‘Granger? What are you doing? DO NOT DO THIS! Death is better than what he’s asking of you. Hermione, no!’
She heard his screams as they tore through her mind, but when she looked at Tom she knew, she knew what she had to do, what her mind and the darkness were willing her to do, and she smiled serenely. Knowing this was different than the other time he made her proclaim such things, but not understanding the full impact her words would have, she whispered, “I’m yours.”
He took her lips with his own, greedily, full of hunger and passion; licking the blood from her bottom lip as he assaulted her mouth, her body, and even her heart. His fingers, still wrapped around her wrist, began to glow a bright green and she felt the searing heat from his hand.
Within moments, he had her pressed against the wall, her breasts pushed forcefully into his chest as his mouth continued to devour hers. He lifted her easily and she wrapped her legs around his waist, held up only by the wall behind her and gasping in surprise when their clothes suddenly disappeared. He entered her roughly, pounding her small body into the wall repeatedly while one hand held her mouth to his and the other continued to hold her burning wrist at her waist. The air around them crackled with magic and pain seared through her wrist once more.
When she broke the kiss and stared down at her wrist, she could see his hand glowing and gasped in realization when she looked back up at him. He released her arm, slowing his motions while taking her hand gently and bringing it up to eye-level. There, wrapped around her delicate wrist like a bracelet, was the Dark Mark. This mark wasn’t like the others, no snake from a skull crudeness; this mark was of two snakes, wrapping around one another without stop--without beginning or end they curled into and around the other.
“You will remain with me from now on,” he said softly, his body slowing almost to a stop inside of her. “You are mine, with all the protection and privileges that this mark entails,” he added quietly. “My followers will respect you and you will aide them where needed, but you will only lie with me. I haven’t not taken a slave from Lucius, I have made another follower. You belong to me now, tim molisje, as you’ve finally come into your name.”
“I am not your weakness, Milord, but your strength,” she said, surprising him that she knew the name he had been secretly keeping from her.
“How long have you known?” he asked, as he stilled his motions completely and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Not long, Milord. Only long enough to realize that together, you and I are even more powerful than we are apart.” She began working her hips, her body begging for friction.
“It would appear so.”
They both became so engrossed in each other that neither noticed when Severus slipped quietly from the room. Tom began to take her roughly once more and within moments, they were both screaming their ecstasy into each others necks.
“There are things from my room that I need, Milord, if I may.” She waved her hand and her original muggle clothing returned to her suddenly clean body.
He appraised her for several moments before speaking. “You have two hours,” he said softly, a finger gently caressing her cheek. “Two hours to say goodbye to Lucius, in any way you choose, and to gather your things. Leave your muggle clothing there, I forbid you to wear such things any longer.”
Hermione slowly walked to the door, casting one last glance at Tom before walking swiftly from the room and back to Lucius.
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