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The Downfall of Greed	By : tcarlson Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 40824 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money off this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
The next day she looked no worse for wear. She was a clean slate to begin today’s activities on. Marking unblemished skin gives the same pleasure as most people get from walking across a vast stretch of untouched snow. Simply a divine feeling.

She had stood up as when the torches lit as I walked down the stairs. She didn’t look nearly as brave as the day before. Probably couldn’t stomach the thought of repeating yesterday’s performance.

I pointed my wand at the ceiling and a chain with manacles appeared. Hermione Granger’s eyes went wide and she backed up as far as she possibly could to get the furthest away from the chain as the cell permitted.

“Miss. Granger, you look positively frightened,” I remarked.

“Do you blame me?”

“Honestly, no I don’t blame you, but you do bring this on yourself. I only ask one little thing of you and you are most stubborn. Just admit you are a Mudblood and I will leave you alone for the rest of the day. Otherwise, I fear you may be in my company for quite awhile.”

The pain from the day before must have not seemed so bad after the night and the healing potion for she answered, “I will do no such thing.” How quickly pain recedes into blurry memories.

“Strip,” I ordered.

“Excuse me?!”

“Are you hard of hearing, girl? I told you to take off that robe.”

“Absolutely not!”

I opened the bars and darted over to her. Grabbing the front of her robe, I lifted her onto her toes so I could look right into her face. “Do it,” I hissed, “or be reacquainted with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.”

I shoved her away. She stood stunned, unsure which was the lesser of two evils: the pain of the Cruciatus or to be completely bare and vulnerable?

When her hesitation became too long, I pointed my wand at the center of her chest. “Cru…“

“Wait!” I lowered my wand. She turned around and pulled off her robe, balled it up, and threw it in the corner of the cell. Her arms came up and encircled her chest either to cover her breasts or comfort herself.

I looked at the sight in front of me. Her long, brown frizzy hair tumbled down her back. Her back itself was pale and smooth, meeting the two high and rounded globes of her buttocks below. Below that, two long and shapely legs stretched down to the floor.

“Turn around,” I murmured, mentally cursing the slight hoarseness of my voice. She obeyed and even brazenly took her hands down and put them at her side, as if she knew that would be my next order.

Her breasts were pert and ample, slightly larger than one would imagine for such a slip of a girl. Her stomach was flat and a mess of curls peeked out between her legs.

If her blood had been pure or even half pure I would have had no scruples about taking her right there and then. Her body was lovely. And being Lucius Malfoy, I knew lovely bodies. Being rich and powerful has the added bonus of gorgeous women throwing themselves at you. The disgust of her being a Mudblood stopped me from making any stupid mistakes.

I grabbed her wrists and gently, almost lovingly, raised them above her head. A blush had climbed up her neck onto her face and her breathing was labored. I could feel the edges of my robe brush against her naked body. Our eyes locked and she didn’t look away. Brace little Gryffindor.

I broke our little trance by clamping her into the manacles suspended from the ceiling and backing away.

She struggled against the chains, panic flashing in her eyes. “You are such a bastard,” she accused.

I ignored her and pulled out a short knife that I had hidden under my robes. It was made of silver with an ivory handle encrusted with a ruby. Just one of my favorite toys.

Her struggling had increased and she had cursed under her breath when I took the knife out. I walked up to her and ran the flat side down her face, angling it so I drew blood at the end. She gasped.

“Now, before I start to carve you up like a Christmas turkey, would you care to admit that you are a Mudblood?”

Blood had starting dripping from her chin onto the floor. She glared at me and then suddenly brought a foot up to kick me. I caught her ankle before it made contact. “I’ll take that as a no,” I said as I took the knife and ran it from the inside of her ankle to mid-thigh. Blood oozed from the deep cut.

I dropped her foot and went to pick up the other one. She tried to pull it away, but I forcefully jerked it up. I repeated the same cut with this leg.

Blood was streaming down her legs as were tears streaming down her cheeks. “Stop crying, Miss. Granger,” I admonished. “The loss of dirty blood is not a cause to cry. Anyway, I only need to hear one thing from you to stop.”

She remained silent, letting her head fall low and resting her chin on her chest. Her hair fell to hide her face. I took that as a sign that she refused to comply.

I continued to decorate her body: a line down her stomach, half circles under her breasts, stripes down her arms, and a zigzag pattern across her back. She hardly made any sounds, holding her breath so she wouldn’t cry out. As if that would impress me.

A pool of blood had formed around her feet. It wouldn’t be long until she passed out from blood loss. Her knees buckled and she fell forward, kept upright only because of the chains. I squatted in front of her and pushed back the blood-soaked hair away from her eyes. Her eyes were glossy, and she blinked trying to get me into focus.

“Well?” I asked. She responded by passing out.

I healed her wounds and cleaned her up. After unhooking her from the ceiling I laid her on the floor. She groaned. She was weak, but she would survive.

I rolled her onto her side so her back was facing me. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice soft.

I didn’t answer and pulled out my wand. When I touched it to the side of her lower back and whispered the incantation, she finally screamed. I held my wand there until the design I was producing was finished. I sat back on my heels and admired my handiwork.

“You screamed just as Draco did when he received his Mark. Of coarse, his Mark is on his left forearm, not left lower back,” I told her.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, voice high and unnerved.

I lifted my left sleeve to show her my Dark Mark. “We match.”

“There is no way in hell that you just gave me a Dark Mark! If you can’t force me to admit to being a Mudblood, what makes you think you can force me into becoming a Death Eater?!”

“My Mark means that I am a loyal servant to the Dark Lord. Your Mark just means that you are a slave to the Dark Lord and thus to me.”

She pushed herself up on her hands and twisted trying to see her new tattoo. “Take it off!” she yelled at me.

“My apologies. You see, it’s quite permanent. Do you know how many deserters of the Dark Lord tried to get their Mark off? It’s impossible.”

She clawed at her back, trying to scratch it off. She was getting dangerously hysterical. I lifted her up and once again chained her to the ceiling.

She screamed curses at me as I calmly walked up the stairs.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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The Downfall of Greed