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A World Not Fit To Live In	By : snowblind12 & Lissa Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 78134 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Same disclaimer as always. We own none of this and make no money from it.
Thanks to my fabulous and talented co-writer, LissaDream. We will also be posting chapter 10 of Master Mine very soon, likely this weekend, and possibly today. :)
Thanks so much to all who review! We love hearing your thoughts!
Lucius was entering his suite, having just returned from the stables. The newly acquired white, sixteen-hand, Arabian stallion was a gorgeous specimen and Lucius had enjoyed the midday ride – his first on the beast. The horse was willful and defiant, and did not want to be harnessed or controlled, but Lucius had the horse calmed and compliant within a few minutes on the trail. He was an experienced equestrian and was well versed with how to make these animals trust him.
Lucius and Narcissa had shared a love of riding. After her death, he hadn't been able to ride alone for quite some time, it had been too painful. He had regained his passion over the past couple of weeks, however. Riding was when he felt the freest. It was the only time he was away from the prying eyes of the portraits, away from the demands of his work, and (most importantly) away from the snake-faced man he called Master. The best part of the jaunt had been galloping through the pastures. The fresh air and tranquility of the estate, coupled with the sound of the horse's hooves beating the ground and expiratory snorts, had been therapeutic and calming to his conflicted state of mind.
He had just sat down to pull off his boots, when he heard the panicked voice of Narcissa coming from her portrait across the room. "Lucius, it's Draco! He's hurt! That Mudblood…she…"
Lucius barely had a chance to process her words before a completely undone Tinny was at his side. "Master Malfoy, sir! It's the young Master, sir – he is hurted, he is!"
Lucius was on his feet instantly. "Take me to him. NOW!" he commanded.
Hermione felt sheer panic as she continued to kneel on all fours in the same spot she had been commanded to. Her back was facing where Draco was laying, and therefore she couldn't see him. Had she killed the bastard? Despite her hatred, that was not her intention. She had just lost control for a minute! The wandless magic had been…incredible. She felt so unbelievably powerful – completely unstoppable. She had been filled with so much hate, more hate than she had ever felt in her life! Merlin, she had almost crucio'd the sick fucker! Part of her wished she had, but that would have made her no better than Voldemort or any one of his slimy followers. What she had done was bad enough. What's Lucius going to do? Merlin, don't let me have killed him. I'm a dead witch if I did!
Her eyes fell to the ten-inch length of Hawthorne wood wand lying beside her hand. Pick it up! But her body didn't listen. The bond was too strong, her anger too deflated, and her fear too overwhelming.
She heard the loud pop of apparition and then the terrified voice of Lucius Malfoy cut through her heart. No man should ever sound so fearful. She heard what must have been his knees hitting the floor. "Draco! My boy!" A second's pause. "Tinny, get Healer Jacobs!"
Another pop and Hermione knew the elf was gone. Hermione didn't move and didn't make a sound. Wishing she could disappear into the bed, she simply listened. Listened for any indication she hadn't killed him. "Draco, please Draco! Wake up," she heard Lucius plead. She could hear the mumbling of voices from the picture frames throughout the suite, but kept her head down.
Lucius' voice was strangled. "Miss Granger, what happened?"
Her response was choked with dread. "I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…!"
She heard rapid, thundering steps and then felt a strong grip on her arm, yanking her off the bed. She saw a blur as his other hand snatched the wand off the bed. His brutal and strong grip was the only thing that kept her upright. Her legs were weak and trembling with terror. She felt her back slam into the wall, and a sharp pain as her head hit the hard surface. A thick, muscular thigh wedge between her legs and she gasped with surprised pain as the movement caused her backside to burn with the friction it caused against the wall. Suddenly, she was very aware of the flames of discomfort to her backside from the whipping she had just received. Tears tumbled down her face as the enraged, maddened face of the man she had just this morning trusted to not be dangerous was staring down at her. How wrong she had been. This man was terrifying. His voice was deep, growling, and menacing. His right hand was still gripping her left arm painfully, his left arm was pressed against her collarbone, only inches from her delicate neck. "What…did…you…do?!"
"I...I..." She couldn't get the words out, so deep was her terror.
His eyes were dark and piercing and she flinched with surprised agony when she felt him penetrate her mind. She had not known he was a Legilimens, but clearly, he was. She saw what he saw - her wand raised at Draco's retreating, bound form as he made his way toward the door. She watched as she lifted her wand to the defenseless wizard's back and blasted him off his feet, causing his head to slam into the corner of the stand beside the door. Lucius growled with rage as he forcefully shoved himself away from her, causing her to once again be forced into the wall. It made her cry out, a sob hitching in her throat. His eyes darted to Draco's wand and he grabbed it as he turned away from her.
She slid to the floor, her head pounding, her heart racing. She watched as the frantic wizard ran back to his son's side. A son who still wasn't moving. She wanted to explain, to defend herself. She had been provoked! Lucius hadn't gone far enough into her memory! She didn't dare speak, fearful that one wrong move would cause him to curse her. Words failed her, anyhow, as she stared at the sight before her: a pool of blood, a desperate father, cradling his bleeding and unconscious son. It didn't matter that he had been kind to her, that he had seemed to want to protect her. She knew now – that sliver of kindness and concern would be a thing of the past. Hermione hadn't realized until this moment how much she had come to depend on Lucius. She hadn't trusted him, was sure she would never have been able to trust him, but she had dared to hope. Seeing the grief and anger on this man's face made it clear to her that those hopes were now dashed. If Draco were permanently injured…or if he died…? She was terrified she had just signed her own death certificate.
"Where is that blasted Healer!" Lucius snapped, startling her.
"Uuuhhhh." A soft, moan came from the younger Malfoy and Hermione huffed in a huge breath of relief.
"Draco! Open your eyes!"
Hermione watched, now with trepidation. What would Draco do to her for this? What would Lucius do?
Before Draco had a chance to respond, Tinny appeared with Healer Jacobs. Lucius gently laid his son's head back on the floor and stood, stepping back allowing the Healer better access. Lucius was ignoring her completely, standing over the Healer as he whispered incantations and waved his wand over the barely conscious Malfoy.
Hearer Jacobs' words were reassuring. "He's going to be all right. He's sustained a concussion, slightly worse than Miss Granger's was. He'll come around shortly, but he'll need to rest. He needs to stay calm and let his body heal. I have potions I'll leave to help with the pain and the swelling."
Lucius tightened and released his fists at his sides as he stared down at his son. Hermione could see he was trembling. Healer Jacobs stood, waving his wand and magicking away the blood. He turned to Lucius. "Head wounds bleed easily. They often times look much worse than they are. He will truly be fine, Mr. Malfoy."
Sensing another presence in the room, Healer Jacobs looked behind them and across the suite. Hermione noticed his eyebrows shoot up in obvious surprise at her naked, cowering presence. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them to hide her nakedness. He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, evidently not wanting to know what was going on.
Lucius, suddenly remembering her presence, turned back to her. His expression was every bit as enraged as before, but his voice was more controlled. "Put some clothes on and come to Draco's suite."
Hermione watched as Lucius waved his wand, levitating Draco's semi-conscious form, and led him out of the room. Healer Jacobs followed. Tinny looked back at Hermione briefly before disappearing with a pop.
Ten minutes later, the same ripped dress back on, Hermione picked up the glowing piece of parchment and felt a dreaded pull to the room she hated above all others. Upon arriving, she tentatively turned to face Draco's bed. He was sitting up, his hand over the side of his head. "I'm fine! Just leave me alone!"
"Draco, you need to relax and rest. You heard Healer Jacobs before he left; you will slow your recovery if you resist these simple instructions."
Draco's scowl intensified when he noticed Hermione. His voice was quiet, rage in his eyes. "You're going to regret this, Granger. You have no idea how deeply you're going to regret this."
Lucius had his hands on his son's shoulders, trying to convince him to lay down. Realizing Hermione's presence wasn't helping, he turned to her. She recoiled at the icy expression on his face, whimpering in fright.
"Bilby," Lucius called out.
The house elf instantly appeared and bowed. "Master Malfoy calls for Bilby?"
Lucius was staring at Hermione with cold, hard eyes. She could feel utter panic crawl up her body. He wasn't going to let her explain, he wasn't going to listen. He was going to hurt her – terribly – his expression promised it without words. She swallowed down the sobs threatening to take over. "Take Miss Granger to cell number two and leave her there." He paused and then continued. "Clearly, the Mudblood needs to be taught a lesson. Please be sure all the…accoutrements normally in that cell are present. "
Hermione felt dizzy, and knew the blood must be draining from her face. "Oh, god," she whispered. "Please! I'm sorry! Please!" She lost control of the sobs as her pleas fell on deaf ears. Draco had a malicious smile on his face as he laid back down. Lucius was whispering soothing words of comfort as the elf gripped her wrist and Disapparated her away.
It had been at least an hour since the male house elf had left her in the dungeon. Hermione hadn't realized how it would affect her – being back in a prison cell. Overwhelmingly suffocating was an understatement, and she had worked herself into a right state before she must have hyperventilated into a faint. Upon awakening, she had come face to face with a tray of terrifying instruments that were charmed under an impenetrable covering. She wasn't able to touch them – not that she would have wanted to. Her imagination ran away from her as she pondered what they were to be used for and she had wound up cowering in a corner of the dank cell, sobbing for what felt like an eternity. What she wouldn't give to wake up and find this had all been a nightmare. Opening her eyes as an eleven-year-old, safe at home with her mum and dad would be incredible. Having magic never exist was her idea of a perfect world after all the horrors she had been through.
Most of her anguish came from her own self-loathing for being so stupid. She shouldn't have hurt Draco, she should have just let him run out once she had gotten his wand. It had clearly terrified him that she had disarmed him. The truth was, she would have never even attempted it – would have never gotten angry enough – if he hadn't hurt Tinny. Hermione was ready and willing to endure whatever Draco dished out in order to survive. However, she was not prepared to stand idly by while he tortured an innocent. It just wasn't in her nature.
She was still sniffling softly, tears streaming down her face when there was a loud crack of Apparation. She looked up fearfully to find the ever-imposing Lucius Malfoy caressing his fingers over the tray of torture implements. Absolute terror gripped her heart, and she couldn't have stopped the words if she had tried. "Mr. Malfoy, please - !" He didn't let her finish.
Almost lazily he flicked his wand at her. "Crucio," he hissed. Fire, knives, hot irons, boiling oil, breaking bones – it felt like all of it combined at once to encapsulate her body in utter agony. She screamed – writhing, twisting, and thrashing.
It was over in seconds that felt like hours and she lay face down on the cold, wet cobble stone floor, sobbing. She attempted to curl herself into a ball and cried out from the after-pain of the curse combined with the burning remnants of the lashes that had broken the skin on her back and buttocks and thighs.
"Did you think I was teasing you when I told you to behave yourself, Miss Granger?" Lucius' voice was cold, hard, and void of all emotion. Hermione didn't look at him. She could barely move – could barely breathe – let alone answer him. She continued to weep wordlessly, struggling to catch her breath. She needed to look at him, to make him look at her. To listen to her. She tried to push herself into a tall kneel, but cried out before collapsing back to the stone.
"Please," she whispered. "Please, don't." She was breathless from the pain, tears poured unceasingly down her face.
Lucius muttered the curse again, and red-hot chains burned into her bones, skin was peeled from muscle, teeth pulled out one by one – she screamed, and screamed, and screamed. It felt like a lifetime, two lifetimes, three. She would surely go mad before he lifted it. Her life was over now. All because she had tried to help an innocent little elf. Then it was done again, and she wept more forcefully than before. Gagging on her heaving breaths, Hermione hugged herself tightly, trying to stop the tremored aftershocks of the curse. She couldn't stifle the residual cries of torture that were being ripped unwillingly from her throat as she continued to cry.
"I asked you a question, Miss Granger. I highly recommend you answer me." His voice, so soft and kind this morning, now felt like ice slipping down her spine.
"Please…" Was all she could manage. She dragged in breath after breath, trying to calm her heaving chest so she could answer him properly. Anything to not feel that agony again. Anything. "Please…let…me. Ohhhh…!" Hermione groaned low, whimpering as a shock gripped her body. Lucius must have held the curse much longer that time, and she clenched her teeth in attempts to keep from crying out. She realized she had peed herself, it burned her thighs where her skin was flayed open from Draco's whipping. Tears and snot streamed down her face, and she couldn't even begin to contemplate raising a hand to wipe her face, though she wanted to desperately. Being weak in front of him was the last thing she wanted.
"Cru - !"
"NO! Please! P-please, Lu-Lucius, NO!" she bawled, begging him. Her tone was hysterical, her voice cracking in numerous places. "I didn't – I didn't mean to hurt him! I didn't! I was just…just trying to p-protect T-Tinny. Please…no more!" She couldn't breathe again. It had taken everything she had to force those words out. She wheezed, gasping breaths in through her mouth as her nose was completely blocked from her tears. She coughed agonizingly as the breaths caught in her throat. It hurt…so much. Another tremor wracked her body and she moaned loudly from it. How long had he held that curse on her? She couldn't remember ever feeling like this in the aftermath of it. Even with Voldemort…Bellatrix. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die. It was all that she could wrap her mind around, the fierce desire to live. To be. To survive this mess.
Lucius had frozen the moment she had said his name. The desperation in her voice, the way it had broken over the syllables, had punched him square in the gut. What are you doing? He felt as though he had been jolted out of a fog. Suddenly, she was not his son's assailant anymore – she was a broken, beaten, and terrified slip of a girl bawling on the floor of a cell in his dungeon; begging for him to understand, to have mercy. His anger fled as quickly as it had come. He stepped back, his body colliding with the wall opposite of the one she was lying next to. He felt sick. The knife in his hand felt heavy and he looked down at it, disgusted with what he had been planning to do. It clattered to the ground and the girl jumped in fright, eyes rolling wildly to find the unfamiliar sound. She never looked his way, however, and eventually her eyes closed again.
Lucius was quiet for a long, long time. He stared at Hermione as she gasped and hiccupped; as she moaned with the pain of the aftershocks from the curse he had put on her. Occasionally she whispered his first name followed by more pleas of mercy, as if she hadn't realized he had stopped – that he was still. Guilt gripped him fiercely – and he hated it. Hated her for making him feel this way.
That girl had split his son's head open. She could have killed him; she could have taken away the only person he had left in this world. Even with this thought, he was unable to bring back the rage that had encompassed him since he had found Draco in a pool of blood on her bedroom floor.
After an age, he realized she was quiet. Her breath was still shaky, but much deeper and more even. The groan and whimpers of discomfort were much softer and there were longer periods of time between them.
"You have one chance to explain to me what happened, or we will continue, Miss Granger."
There was another lengthy pause, and he wondered if she had passed out.
When Hermione answered, her voice was so weak he flinched with surprise. "Please…" she said tearfully. "I…c-can't, talk. Please…l-look. I…w-won't resist." She rolled. It caused her obviously discomfort – a louder grunt of pain escaped her, along with a gasp and a sob that shook Lucius to the core. Shame crashed around him. Had she always been so tiny? She looked like a small, broken child laying there like that.
At first her eyes were closed. He moved towards her cautiously, he understood she wanted him to use Legilimency. Kneeling beside her, he feared her eyes opening. When they finally fluttered, he knew he had been right to be so afraid. Her luminescent, golden irises were darkened with undiluted agony and grief; they were wet with unshed tears of anguish. "Please," she whimpered softly, slowly reaching out and grasping his wrist with her shaking, ice cold fingers. "Please…understand."
It took a moment to shake off the feeling her desperate touch caused. Eventually, he whispered another spell for the second time that day, slipping into her mind much more gently than before. Subconsciously, he did not want to cause her anymore pain. Lucius watched what had transpired between her and Draco earlier in the morning, followed by the scene with Hermione and Tinny sharing a kind of camaraderie in her dressing room. Draco had come upon them, he had hurt her, degraded her verbally and physically, and then saw him turn his attention to the little female elf. Lucius watched in utter fascination as Hermione (in all her naked splendor) had broken the slave bond by sheer force of will, wandlessly disarmed Draco, and proceeded to defended herself and the elf.
He observed in utter captivation as she had forced herself to not utter the curse Lucius had just used so ruthlessly on her. He pulled back from her mind as gently as he could and stared into her eyes for a long moment. She did not blink, he could not look away.
She had not attacked, she had defended.
She had defended not herself, but Tinny.
Lucius sat heavily on the floor of the cell to which he had sent an innocent eighteen-year-old girl with every intention of torturing her for defending his house elf from his son. After her eyes fluttered shut, he dropped his head into his hands, confusion flooding every pore of his being. Why should he care about this Mudblood chit? Why should he care that she was defending herself or Tinny? Why did her motivation even matter? She had attacked his son!
But it does. It mattered because what his son had done to Hermione, unprovoked no less, had sickened Lucius. Tentatively, without conscious thought, he reached out and brushed his fingers over her right cheekbone. Her eyes opened halfway, he was astonished when a small smile pulled at her lips. "You understand?" she whispered hoarsely. She didn't wait for his reply. "I'm so sorry," she reached up and cupped his hand with hers, pressing his fingers against her face. He had to stifle a gasp of surprise at her easy acceptance of him after what he had just done to her. Then she lost consciousness, her hand falling limply away from his.
Swearing softly, he gathered her small form into his arms and stood to Disaparate. He landed in her bathroom and gently laid her on the floor before flicking his wand to fill the tub. She smelled of salt and urine and had to be in absolute agony. He knew his fury had been such that he had held the Cruciatus curse too long the second time. He was probably lucky he hadn't caused her permanent brain damage.
He started removing his clothing, undressing until he just wore his underwear. Then he turned to Hermione and used his wand to unclothe her. He cursed loudly when he saw the welted and broken stripes across her backside. There was dried blood smeared in a few places. She moaned a little in her oblivion when he gently reached to smooth one particularly angry line that started on her hip. He took a moment to set his wand close to the tub, so it was within reach if he needed it. Then, he pulled her into his arms and slid into the tub with her. She lay limp and boneless in his arms and he couldn't help but marvel at her. Her eyelashes were damp with tears, her lips were bloodless and slightly parted, she was extremely pale – but she was still incredibly beautiful.
As the heat closed around her body, her eyes slowly opened. She let out a sound that was half moan of pain and half groan of pleasure. Shock and confusion coursed through him when she turned into him, slinging her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his chest. Tears seemed to be wracking her body again and he could do nothing but wrap his arms around her naked form as she clung to him. To him. This incredible creature was seeking comfort from him for pain he had caused, comfort from pain he'd been unable to stop his son from inflicting.
After a long while, he felt her pull away and reluctantly let her go. Mystified as to why he wouldn't want to let the Mudblood out of an embrace, he grabbed his wand to summon the supplies he needed to wash her and set about his tasks with as much clinical detachment he could. Lucius avoided all contact with her expressive, devastating eyes. He turned her, so she sat between his legs, and poured water over her head, drenching her locks which pulled long and straight with the weight of the water. Setting the metal pitcher aside, he reached for some shampoo and squirted it into his hands before gently massaging it into her scalp. A sharp gasp of pain caused him to pause in surprise before he realized her head must be tender from Draco pulling her hair. With much chagrin, he remembered slamming her head into the wall while questioning her, as well. He casually forced those thoughts away before swiping up the pitcher again and rinsing her hair. After repeating his actions with the conditioner, he soaped a flannel. Lucius pushed her heavy hair over one shoulder and smoothed the soft fabric over her shoulders and down her spine, stopping above the line that marked the top of her damaged backside. Hermione remained quiet as he rinsed her again before pulling her back against his chest. Moving her hair again, he continued his ministrations over her collar bones, gently around her breasts, down her stomach, and between her thighs. He meant no sexual undertone to his actions, but unfortunately his body did not get the message.
Lucius felt her stiffen when he shifted as his straining erection pressed against her lower back. Choosing to ignore her response and pretending it wasn't actually happening, he quietly ordered her out of the tub. Hermione clambered out of the basin painfully, small grunts and gasps leaving her with every movement. He followed, frowning deeply at her discomfort. Snatching his wand up from his pile of clothing, he cast a drying spell on himself and his boxers before wrapping the girl in a huge, fluffy, lavender towel.
It bothered Lucius that she hadn't spoken, this was made worse by the fact she hadn't even attempted to look anywhere but the floor. He watched her carefully as he redressed.
"Miss Granger, look at me," he said finally as he finished tucking in his shirt. Hermione's head rose slowly, not having a choice. He was immediately disconcerted, and had to look away from her hastily. Her eyes were flat – dead – her face held no expression outside of a profound resignation. Almost as if she had accepted whatever horrible fate had been laid out for her – whatever hand he was about to deal her.
"Come." He said nothing else, just led her back to the bedroom. It was obvious from the way her breathing changed that she was suffering. Lucius felt an alarming need to remedy that. "Bilby!" The elf appeared with a crack and bow.
"Pain potion, healing potion, healing cream, sleeping potion, bruise paste, tremor potion, now." Lucius rattled off the list of what he needed. "Lay on the bed on your stomach, Miss Granger."
Her body automatically started to move, but her speech was not being commanded. "I need to dry my hair," she whispered, her voice was devoid of all emotion. It was the first words she had uttered since she had asked him to look into her mind, to understand what had truly happened.
Why did that bother him so? She had finally been put in her place after days of acting like she was the new lady of the manor. She finally understood that she was not worth the dirt on his boots. Lies! his brain hissed at him. Why lie to yourself, Lucius? He shook his head hard, trying to dispel the troubling thoughts. "You may stop, I will dry your hair," he finally answered her. He watched, feeling slightly sick as her body came to an abrupt halt.
He used a spell he remembered Narcissa employing and Hermione's hair immediately dried straight and long, surprising them both. Clutching the towel with one hand, she fingered a lock of the hair that almost reached her hips now that it was no longer in tight, spiral curls.
Hermione refused to meet his gaze, the spell had been shocking, but she couldn't deny its effectiveness. Her hair was silky smooth and shiny. It felt incredible! If she ever got a wand back, she would have to ask him what he had done. It would have been almost laughable if she were anywhere else in the world. Lucius commanded her back to the bed, towel off, stomach down. She felt her body comply without her direction. There was a pop and Hermione assumed Bilby had returned with the ordered potions. Another pop indicated he was gone. The bed sunk as Lucius sat next to her.
The Malfoy patriarch fumbled through the vials that had been given to him, sighing. He set them aside for the moment. He needed to disinfect and heal the slashes on her back and bottom. He looked at them carefully, nausea rising in him once again. There were eleven total, three were broken open painfully, the others were raised welts. Quietly, he murmured the incantation to clean and then seal the open wounds, followed by one to reduce swelling and inflammation. He opened the tub of healing cream and gently massaged it into the marks. The only response he got from her was a sharply inhaled breath. He let the cream set, watching as the marks faded to look days old before his eyes. He then smoothed some bruise paste over the tender skin, which would take the night to make a difference.
The pain had obviously lessened considerably; he watched as her whole body melted. "Sit up and face me Miss Granger." He spoke to her while using his wand to silently summon a nightgown. The moment she was facing him, Lucius was slipping it over Hermione's head and helping her guide her arms through the sleeves of the teal and cream damask silk.
"Take these." In succession, Lucius handed her the healing potion, the pain potion, and the tremor potion. He watched with approving eyes as she downed each in quick turn. He vanished the tubes once she had finished. They watched each other quietly for a while. Not knowing why he did it, Lucius reached out to caress the left side of her face. It didn't surprise him when she flinched, but the hiss of pain confused him.
"What's wrong?"
She simply shook her head, teeth coming out to worry her lower lip. "Tell me, now."
Hermione was surprised when she immediately began to speak, especially being that Draco had strictly forbidden her from telling anyone. "My face hurts. I was struck this morning. I'm sure it's bruised, but Draco put a glamour on it."
She watched in fascination as Lucius' jaw clenched tightly. A silent, Finite Incantatem spell with his wand later and he let out a low, angry hiss as a large bruise bloomed across her cheek and around her eye in the shape of a hand print. He scooped up the bruise paste again and with wonderfully gentle fingers, he smoothed it into the mark on her face. "I'm sorry," he sighed. He froze, astounded with himself. Had he just apologized to a Mudblood? For something he had not even done? She didn't answer, didn't look at him. Part of him was glad, he didn't want to see her lifeless eyes, anyhow. Her apparent defeat was too painful for him to bear, Merlin only knew why.
When he was done, Lucius sent the creams to sit on Hermione's nightstand. Keeping his voice as cool as he could, he gave her directions he knew she would hate, but that were necessary.
"You will never use wandless magic against my son or myself ever again, tell me you understand." It was a demand.
"I understand." Her voice was soft, but flat. She didn't even attempt to meet his eyes.
"If Draco strikes your face, you are to tell me the next time you see me no matter what his directives are. I have asked him not to mark your face. It is not acceptable."
He watched with slight satisfaction as some color filled her cheeks and she bit her lip. Was that anger she was trying to dispel? That was a good sign – life returning to her.
"Physically, you have been punished enough for your transgressions today," he continued after a beat. He kept his voice casual, even though guilt was still eating him alive. "However, I have decided I will maintain the directive that Tinny not be allowed to speak with you." Hermione's head snapped up and it was all Lucius could do not to look away at the obvious desolation in her eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing to her; he was taking away the one thing – the only thing – that was good in her life. Lucius was no fool, he had known Tinny would be kind to the witch. After what had transpired today, though, he realized he couldn't let them build a relationship. It would be too dangerous.
"She will continue to provide for your needs and care for you, but she will not be allowed to converse with you. Your time together will be strictly professional, for lack of a better word. Tell me you understand." Her voice was rough with unshed tears when she spoke the words this time. He looked away shamefully.
He moved off the bed and started to walk to the door. "Dinner will be served in your room, there is a sleeping potion for afterwards if you need it. If you want another pain potion, you only need to ask Tinny for it." His words were met with more silence and he watched her with sad eyes as she rolled onto her side, facing away from him. Lucius sighed as he noticed her body start trembling, she was crying again. Again, he tried to reason why this bothered him.
Steeling himself for his final words, he placed his hand on the crystal doorknob. "If you ever do anything to hurt my son again, Miss Granger, I will not stop to listen to your reasoning. This is your final warning on this matter, I expect you to heed it." He heard her sob aloud as he pulled the door shut behind him, guilt once again taking hold. Once again, he didn't understand why.
Lucius stepped into his suite, exhausted from all that had happened. He was only partially surprised to find Narcissa was watching him warily from the portrait over the mantle.
"I've been watching Draco, he's been sleeping," she said, her voice tense with worry.
"Hmm," he responded softly and distractedly. Draco wasn't the injured party he was thinking about. His mind kept replaying the image of her small, writhing body, sobbing and begging for mercy on the cobblestone floor. He felt sick to his stomach. Why do I feel this way?
"Lucius, talk to me."
Lucius exhaled as he slumped into a chair, reaching to unzip his boots and slide them off. He stood, not answering her, as he slipped off his leather riding vest and began to unbutton his shirt. "What do you wish me to say, 'Cissa?"
He looked over his shoulder towards her when she didn't respond. Guilt overcame him when he saw the hurt in her eyes. His dismissive tone and words were reflective of how he had treated her far too often during their marriage. He pushed himself up and walked towards her portrait. "I'm sorry, my flower. It's been a…rough afternoon."
Narcissa's beautifully painted eyes became sympathetic.
He collapsed into the chair again, his shirt falling open as he propped his right ankle on his left knee. He rubbed his eyes and then smoothed his hand down his face. "I think, my darling, I am missing you so much, that I am becoming confused by the female in this house." He rolled his eyes. "When have I ever cared about a Mudblood? When have I ever concerned myself with such a piece of filth?"
Narcissa watched him, her brow lifting slightly with the surprise of his confession. She glanced around the room, confirming they were not being eavesdropped on. "Careful, my love. Such words will bring you into my existence long before your time."
Catching her meaning, he glanced about the room. You're being reckless, you idiot.
After a minute, she pressed him. "Tell me. Tell me what you're thinking."
Lucius swallowed and hesitated to speak. "I... For some reason, unknown to me, I find myself concerned for the girl's wellbeing. I actually apologized to her, 'Cissa! Apologized for what Draco had done to her. Imagine me…apologizing to a Mudblood! It's absurd!" He snorted his derision, not noticing the surprised look on Narcissa's painted face.
He stood jerkily, and began to pace. "She's a slave. Placed here, where we have to fuck her practically daily to maintain a bond." He looked up at his wife's portrait, apologetically. She waved her hand as though it was no concern. He huffed and looked away as he continued his pacing. "A bond I care nothing for, a bond the Dark Lord wishes us to use to manipulate her into…I'm not even sure what. He wants to be able to use her – should he find her useful. He wants Draco and I to sway her to our side." He rolled his eyes, facing the portrait. "How do you sway someone like Hermione Granger? Tell me! She will never support a cause that she spent more than half her life fighting. She will never support the dictator she hates more than anyone. And why should she? Narcissa, tell me! Why should she? He stands against everything she is! She's stubborn enough to go to her death before being swayed." Narcissa raised an eyebrow at his almost admiring tone.
He collapsed back into the chair for the third time. His voice was now soft, resigned. "Yet, I find myself feeling sorry for her. Perhaps I'm just tired of the violence. I'm tired of abusing and I'm tired of being abused. I'm tired of being forced to fuck an eighteen-year-old girl. A girl our son's age!" He looked up at Narcissa. "Sometimes when I look at her, I think of the daughter we lost. The daughter we miscarried. She would have been close to Hermione's age." He closed his eyes and looked up at Cissa. "What makes it worse, is that I find her desirable. It sickens me. It's obscene! Me, Lucius Malfoy, finding an eighteen-year-old Mudblood desirable." He shook his head in clear aggravation. "I think it's because I'm missing you so much. She's here…and you're not."
Narcissa watched him carefully for a moment before speaking with conviction. "Lucius, you're a better man than you give yourself credit for, but you're also a red-blooded male. Of course, you desire her! As much as I hate to admit it, she's a striking girl. She has a lovely body and a sharp mind. I understand the beating yourself up over it. She's not your daughter. You have to…be intimate with her anyway, you may as well make the best of it. It's not as though you're falling in love with her!"
Lucius looked up at her in horrified shock. "Certainly not!"
They didn't speak for a minute, each contemplating what had been said. Lucius was about to continue undressing when Narcissa's voice sounded pained. "But, Lucius. The one you do love – your son! What of him? If the Mudblood had killed him, or seriously injured him..."
Lucius didn't let her finish; his voice was cold with its conviction. "She'd be dead right now."
"Elizabella told me what Draco did to her, Lucius. She saw the whole sordid thing."
Lucius' eyes glazed over, and he had to turn his face away from her. "It was awful, Narcissa. I saw it from the girl's mind - the unprovoked brutality. The glee he seemed to derive from her emotional and physical torture. The abuse of Tinny." He looked up at her, his tone conveying his doubt. "Do you still think it's grief?" He shook his head. "I could practically see the mad look of Bellatrix as I saw our son through Hermio...err, the Mudblood's eyes."
Narcissa's look became angry, her tone impatient. "Lucius, I know our son. I know Draco better than anyone! You are wrong! He is too young. When the madness overcame Bellatrix, when it took Walburga, and all the other Blacks before them who were afflicted, it always came at an older age. Well into their twenties. He's too young. That's not what this is!" Lucius turned away, disbelieving. "Lucius, be a father. Talk to him. Try to get him to open up. You have to be a mother to him now as well, not just a father."
Lucius huffed, swallowing the retort he wanted to say, opting to say what Narcissa wanted to hear instead. "Yes, my flower. I'm sure you're right. I'll try to do better." He finished undressing, standing naked. "I'm going to shower now. Then I'm going to eat, then I'm going to bed." He paused. "Will you be here when I come out of the bath?"
She sighed apologetically. "Draco needs me. I'm going to watch over him so that if he wakes, I'm there."
Lucius' eyes stung as she disappeared from the frame, his heart breaking for her. Draco would not speak to her, he wouldn't even look at her. He hadn't acknowledged her presence even once since she had manifested. It was breaking Narcissa's dead heart and in turn, it made Lucius ache for her.
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A World Not Fit To Live In