Filthy Little Mudblood

Author's Chapter Notes:
Suicide, but not graphic, because she just doesn't deserve it.

Trying desperately to hide her excitement, Hermione followed Lucius back to her rooms. It was obvious that he was going to be staying with her again tonight and she was just as happy this time as she was the first. Perhaps it was because her heart wasn’t quite as cold and hardened as she liked to tell herself it had become, but the mere thought of being held in his arms, of waking up with his warm body pressed against hers, sent delicious shivers cascading down her spine as she hummed in anticipation.

“You’re bouncing,” Lucius drawled as they walked up the stairs and to her room.

She chuckled softly and said, “I’m rather happy to be out of there.”

“Is it just my rescue that has made you so happy?” he asked teasingly.

Hermione stopped, allowing him time to stop beside her before she grabbed his robes and pushed him into the wall. His eyes opened wide with shock, but before the anger could register as well, she kissed him fiercely and he found himself returning the kiss with equal passion. His hands snaked around her body as he pulled her flush to him. Their tongues fought for dominance in his mouth and the evidence of his approval pushed against her stomach, making her moan in pleasure.

He slowly broke the kiss and they both stood together, panting for breath. “I have never…” he said, still dazed by both her boldness and his all-consuming reaction to her.

She grinned up at him and replied, “that’s what I’m here for, love. To make sure you do all the things that ‘you’ve never’ and to be the one to help you experience them.”

“There are times that I wonder if you’re not more trouble than you’re worth, cheeky little witch.” He smiled down at her, raising his gloved hand and gently stroking her cheek.

“So, are we going to continue to waste time out here in the hall, or are we going to go to my room?”

He growled playfully at her before pushing her quickly into her room and closely the door behind him. He withdrew his wand from his cane and pointed it at the door. “I do not wish for another interruption,” he explained.

The jewelry she had been wearing slowly came off in her excited hands as she watched Lucius place his cane against the wall and hang his cloak, careful to avoid wrinkles as he kept things nice and orderly. His gloves came off next, one finger at a time and she found herself enthralled by that simple act. When he looked up at her and caught her staring, he simply smiled; a predatory gaze in his eyes as he watched the young witch appraise his body.

“You looked amazing tonight,” she said, her hungry eyes now back on his face.

“And you, my dear, look absolutely ravishing. Come here,” he ordered gently and watched as she walked towards him with a smile. He loved that she was no longer shy, but ready and willing for him at any time. He had watched her blossom in her sexuality and wondered only briefly what moron had had her before him. Surely one could not possess such a treasure only to allow it to leave, or worse, cause it to leave.

When she was standing before him, she raised her hand and gently caressed his cheek. “Will you not be missed at home tonight?”

“I hardly think my wife will be looking for me tonight, not with her lover so close by.”

“Rabastan? I just don’t understand the attraction,” she mused.

Chuckling at her comment, he took her hand in his and pulled her up against him. “I hate the dress,” he murmured before capturing her lips with his own. As they kissed and their hands begin to roam, her dress loosened before falling at her feet.

He gently pushed her away to see her golden body clad only in a pair of red knickers. “Are those from him as well?” he asked menacingly.

Her grin slowly crossed her face and she asked, “Jealous, love?” Upon the anger flashing through his eyes, she quickly added, “no, they were from you, if you remember. I wanted to have a bit of something from you to wear tonight.”

“Did you now? And the jewelry was not enough? Do you require even more from me, Pet, even more than what you’ve been so graciously given?”

“Lucius,” she warned, “don’t start. I never asked you for anything, not once, and you bloody well know it. I wanted to wear the dress you bought for me tonight, but I couldn’t, so don’t be angry with me. Put the blame where it goes and then continue to seduce me like the man I know you to be, and not the angry and cold man you pretend you are.”

Lucius stood shocked at her words. Calculating them in his head, but coming up short each time. “You really don’t want more from me?” he asked and she shook her head. He smirked down at her, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her arms and responded, “I am an angry and cold man. Maybe not always, maybe not to you, but that is the man I’ve become, the man that I am.”

“No, Lucius,” she said softly, stroking his cheek once more, “that is the Death Eater speaking and not the man. I love how you are with me when you’re happy and that is the man I want.”

A puzzled look crossed his face as he continued to gaze down at his witch. “No one has ever talked to me the way you do. Not the words, nor the intent, and I find myself confused as to how to take it. I find myself confused by you.”

Now the shock was Hermione’s. She wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying, only that she liked the words and the honest sincerity behind them. Reaching up on her toes and pressing her body against his, she kissed him. It wasn’t a hungry kiss full of lust and need, but a kiss full of compassion and understanding, and it was returned as such.

He lifted her small form up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands felt like warm silk against her bare back as he stroked her softly and kneaded her skin. She could feel his hands slide down to her ass, cupping her gently as he lay her on the bed and stood back up. When she looked at him, he was removing his clothes and placing them on the chair.

There was something about this man naked that sent her blood boiling and her heart racing. His broad shoulders and chiseled chest were amazing, along with the long arms she loved to have wrapped around her. As her gaze traveled down his body, she could see the taper of his waist and his gorgeous manhood, already erect and ready for her attention.

He walked over to her and slowly skimmed his hands along her body. “You’re so soft,” he murmured silkily, “like silk.”

As his hands continued to travel her body, shivers followed and he smiled down at her. “Do you want me, witch?” he asked heatedly.

“Yes,” she mumbled, biting her lower lip and watching the hands that began cupping her breasts. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he moved between her parted thighs and he groaned softly when his cock grazed her wet pussy.

“Take me, Lucius,” she said, pulling him closer to her.

He bent over slightly, his fingers still teasing her nipples as he growled, “I believe, my witch, that I have allowed you entirely too much leeway. You are to learn that I am in control and not you.”

A smirk from the muggleborn was his only answer and he sneered down at her. His strong hands grabbed her thighs roughly and pulled them further apart as he slid his long, thick cock inside her waiting heat in one fluid motion. She gasped and wiggled beneath him, but he kept his hands on her hips, not allowing her to moved as he thrust roughly inside of her.

“Gods, Lucius! Yes!” she cried, her hands grabbing his wrists and digging into his skin.

“You like that witch? You like my cock slamming into you, don’t you? You dirty little whore!”

Another thrust coupled with those harsh words and she was gone. Her body wracked in convulsions as her muscles clamped on his cock tightly and he groaned as he rode her orgasm.

“Oh, Lucius!” she purred again while he continued to thrust inside of her.

“Want more, do you?” he asked, bending over and licking her nipple before sucking it roughly into his mouth.

“Yes, more Lucius, please!” she whimpered.

He thrust into her several more times before lightly biting her nipple and putting even more pressure on her hips as he drove harder and harder into her. “Yes, witch!” he screamed, only moments before her second orgasm took over and she screamed his name so hard her throat protested in pain.

“So good, so tight, make me come,” he panted in her ear as his seed spilled into her passage and a loud moan left his lips.

He collapsed on top of her, then slowly rolled over and pulled her closer to him. Both covered in a light sheen of sweat and breathing heavily.

“My gods, Lucius, that was incredible,” she said softly when she found her voice.

“Yes,” he chuckled, “and I believe everyone will know it.”

“Was I really that loud?” she asked horrified.

“I like you loud,” he responded after a brief kiss and they both drifted off to sleep for the night.

Hermione was awakened in the morning by several light kisses along her face and neck. Opening her eyes lazily, she saw Lucius above her, already dressed and smiling like a cat that caught the mouse.

“I must go now. There are things I need to attend to at the Manor and, after my failed mission, I daresay I should be quick before the Dark Lord begins looking for me.”

“Hurry back, then?” she asked sleepily, but a slow, languid kiss was all she received before he strode to the door and left her room.

Suddenly she found herself being apparated and decided that it was definitely not conducive to waking up in a good mood. When she landed on the floor with a thud, she heard the unearthly screeching of the psychotic woman from before. Looking around, she knew that she was in Tom’s chambers and that Bella was nearby. She gingerly struggled to her feet, trying to erase the drowsiness from her head as she stood and wished to educate herself in the art of snapping her fingers and making things appear. When she looked up, Voldemort was glaring down at her naked body.

“Busy this morning?” he sneered, throwing her the light blue robe from before. “Put that on and follow me.”

She did as instructed and saw a very angry Bella standing from the table. “YOU STUPID BITCH! YOU FILTHY LITTLE WHORE!” she screamed as she stormed closer to Hermione.

“That is quite enough for now, Bella,” Voldemort said calmly before turning to Hermione. “Do you have any explanation for your actions?” he asked coldly.

“I don’t understand, Milord.”

“Don’t understand?! How could you not understand?!” Bella screeched again.

The darkness enveloped Hermione once more without being called and she welcomed it to her. Rolling her neck from side to side and becoming increasingly annoyed with the psychotic bitch before her, Hermione said with a tone that eerily matched Voldemort’s, “I do not understand, Bella, because up until a few moments ago, I was asleep. Therefore there have been no actions on my part and nothing I can think to explain.”

“Think?! You’re nothing but a filthy, mudblood slave! You’re not allowed to think!”

Voldemort was standing to the side, knowing that Bella had every right to do what was about to be done, but feeling a bit torn about it himself. However, he couldn’t help but be impressed with how the young witch handled herself in the face of danger. Most people who faced Bella died from fright before she even raised her wand, but this slip of a girl was discussing things with an air of coldness that impressed even him.

“No one can stop a person from thinking, Bella. I wouldn’t expect you to understand such things as it would require you to think yourself, but thoughts cannot be stopped. Now, kindly explain what your issue with me is and let us go from there.”

“Kindly explain?” she sneered. “My sister is dead because of you and you want me to ’kindly explain’?”

“Dead?” Hermione asked in obvious confusion.

“Yes, she’s dead and it’s all your fault!” Bella screamed before raising her wand.

Pain as she’d never felt before ripped through her body and she almost begged for death as she dropped to the ground and withered in pain. She could taste the blood in her mouth from her now lacerated lip; biting her lip in an effort to keep from screaming out. Through her own ear-splitting internal cries, she heard Bella’s manic laughter. White-hot needles were burning through her skin and her bones. And thoughts of retribution were screaming through her blood. She looked at Voldemort with eyes full of pain.

“That’s enough,” he said calmly. “I have allowed this because it is deserved, but do not damage her beyond repair.”

Hermione almost gave a sigh of relief. The pain had subsided and, although shaky, she could finally stand up and glare at Bella.

“And what,” she growled, “did I do to deserve that? I have never touched Narcissa. Nor would I want to.”

Bella looked rather pleased with herself as she walked around Hermione. “My sister,” she said angrily, “is dead because you are a whore. She loved her husband and you stole him from her. You, nothing but the filth that you are, took a pureblood from his wife. What form of trickery did you use?”

Again the deranged witch raised her wand, but this time Hermione went flying backwards into a wall. Crumpling in a heap and trying desperately to catch her breath, she looked up at Bella once more. Eyes blazing at the older witch, she suddenly found herself being raised from the floor and attached to the wall, arms and legs spread wide. It was all she could do at this point to not use her magic, but she knew her secret had to be kept.

“You will pay for every day you have been here, you pathetic excuse for a witch,” she snarled.

Hermione couldn’t help herself, she laughed. A cold, heartless laugh fell from her lips disturbing not only Bella, but Voldemort as well. Her laughter subsided and she ground out, “I will pay? I have paid you stupid woman! It was not my decision to be here. I was taken without my consent and given away like a common animal! I have paid every day that I’ve been here and nothing, NOTHING, you can do could be any worse than having my own freewill striped from me.”

“You lay with our Master and you complain?” she sputtered out. “You spread your legs like a common whore for my brother-in-law and you complain?”

“I have never once complained about those acts I speak only about my lack of freedom. Who’s to say, Bella,” she said with an air of indifference, “that I couldn’t wipe the floor with your sorry arse? You, however, have me completely defenseless as you make remarks about my supposed lack of worth. If that is how you wish it, then get on with your plans and, for Merlin’s sake, shut up about it.”

With the words said, the effect was instantaneous. Bella raised her wand once more, but instead of the first curse, Hermione felt her skin being ripped with each slash of the witch’s wand. Gashes were forming along her body and pouring blood. She could feel herself weakening from the blood loss and pain, but she refused to scream out in protest. Voldemort watched from the corner as her tattered robe began falling from her body and her now cold eyes never left Bella‘s. Only when the weakness threatened to overtake her did her eyelids begin to droop and a foreign desire to stop the torture began to overwhelm him. He was saved from saying anything when the door was flung open from the outside and Severus and Lucius stormed in.

Severus immediately went to Hermione, undoing her bindings and cradling her in his arms as he spoke soothing words to her. Without a look in anyone’s direction, he walked right out of the room with the frail, bleeding witch in his arms.

Lucius, however, went straight for Bella with murder in his eyes. He spared only a glance to make sure his witch was being cared for, before he rounded on Bella and began speaking, his cold, deep voice reverberating through the room.

“What, in the hell, do you think you’re doing here? Who gave you the right to touch her? What reasons has your sick and twisted mind come up with to warrant such actions against her?”

“It’s her fault, Lucius! Narcissa is dead, your own wife, and it’s all her fault!”

Lucius’ upper lip curled as he held a piece of parchment in front of him. “Perhaps, you stupid bitch, you should consider acquiring all of the facts before you act so rashly. It had nothing to do with Hermione at all. It had nothing even to do with me or our marriage. My wife killed herself last night because of your husband, Bella. Your husband is to blame for her death!”

“Wh…what are you talking about?” she stammered as her body began to shake slightly and Voldemort walked out from the shadows of the corner.

“Yes, Lucius, what are you talking about?” he asked, glaring at the pair.

“Milord, I apologize, I did not know you were here,” Lucius said, bowing respectfully.

“Again, Lucius, what are you talking about?” his cold, calm voice now traced with anger and impatience.

“When I went to the Manor this morning, I saw for myself. I was appalled that Narcissa would even consider such a thing as suicide, Milord, something so completely beneath her pureblood standing, and I had to know why. I found this letter,” he explained, holding up the piece of parchment once more, “which clearly states that her own sordid affairs led her to do such a thing as to cowardly take her own life.” His angry gaze fell upon Bella once more.

“Everyone knows she was sleeping with Rabastan. What does that have to do with anything?” Bella asked, trying to get the parchment from Lucius.

Voldemort calmly summoned the letter to him and read it through. His eyes blazed with fury and the room around him began to silently tremble in his rage. Looking at Lucius and ignoring Bella he ordered, “Leave us. Consider her torture as part of your punishment for your own failures and leave us.”

Swiftly leaving the room, Lucius never heard Bella’s screams of pain. Voldemort, however, reveled in them. He dropped his wand as the witch lay trembling at his feet. “It would appear, my dear Bella, that your own husband was engaging in other acts with Narcissa Malfoy. I can attest to the fact myself, as she was wishing death upon the man just last night when he refused her request of a dance. So, why then, did you feel the need to point the blame elsewhere? To have someone else punished when there was no wrongdoing?”

“Master, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Had I known about it…surely Cissy would have told me…my own husband…”

“Told you she was in love with your husband? That she killed herself because he wouldn’t leave you for her?”

“No, Master, it can’t be true!” she wailed.

“Stand up, Bella. Take the letter to your husband and sort out your personal affairs yourself. Do not include me in them again and DO NOT come to my bed again. I have had enough of this…of you. Consider yourself lucky to be alive and thankful that you did not receive worse. There may very well be a time when that witch seeks revenge and I will not stand in the way. NOW GO!”

Lucius had all but ran back to Hermione’s room. When he burst through the door, the sight that met him chilled him to the bones. His witch, his beautiful witch, was laying on the bed and moaning in pain. Severus was working diligently above her, whispering incantations over and over as her wounds began to heal.

Lucius strode quickly to the bed. “Is she okay?” he ask, his voice trembling slightly.

“I think she’ll live. I need to get some potions, I’ll be back,” Severus replied while he cursed himself for ever inventing the spell in the first place.

“Hermione, love,” Lucius said softly as he stroked the hair out of her face, “um, I need you to talk to me, okay? Tell me that you’re going to be alright. This never should have happened. It had absolutely nothing to do with you and Bella was wrong for attacking you. The Dark Lord should never have allowed such a thing. Please talk to me,” he pleaded.

“Bastard,” she said weakly.

Lucius lowered his head in what would appear to anyone else as a look of shame. “I know, Hermione.”

“It was not to you that she was referring, I’m afraid,” Severus said softly as he strolled quietly to the bed.

“Then who?”

“Voldemort,” she replied quietly once more, eyes still closed.

“Granger!“ Severus said sharply in warning before realizing she was unconsciousness once more. He slowly pulled his wand and cast a silent spell before looking back at his friend.

Lucius was slowly easing away from the two, his eyes going back and forth between them in disbelief.

“Come now, Lucius,” he said simply as he poured potions down Hermione’s throat, “surely you remember who she was, who her best friends were. Although we’d all prefer she didn’t use the name, she hasn’t had a fear of it for a good many years.”

“The name?” he asked dumbly. “No, Severus, I don’t believe what I’m hearing. She goes willingly to his bed and you’re telling me she hates him, and you knew?”

“She does what she has to do. I do fear that she’s coming to feel for the man she knows as Tom Riddle, while hating the Dark Lord at the same time. However, if not for you, she would have allowed her insufferable tongue to have gotten her killed months ago.”

“I don’t understand. How could he have allowed her to suffer for things that were not her doing?”

“Ah, so you’re finally coming around to seeing things clearly?” Severus asked cautiously, knowing that he had the opening he’d always wanted for his friend, but fearing that taking it too far at the moment was not a good idea. He discreetly waved his wand behind his back, casting a spell to keep from being overheard as he waiting for his friends’ reply.

“I have been seeing things differently for some time now, but I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean about clearly.”

“He keeps you away so that he can have what is yours. He talks of muggle borns with disgust, but then finds himself enthralled with one so completely that it’s changing who he is. He has changed since we first joined him, Lucius, all those many years ago. The world he wishes to create will not be what we all once thought it would.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Severus? Are you actually entertaining ideas of treason? Have you been in Dumbledore’s pocket all these years, playing both sides against themselves? Have you?” he asked angrily.

“I have done what I needed to do to survive, Lucius. But I have done so by keeping my eyes open on both sides. Dumbledore was not the saint he was believed to be and the Dark Lord is not the ruler he is believed to be, either. Can you follow someone in good conscious that would hurt her in such a way?” he asked, looking back down at Hermione as she slowly began to stir from the potions.

“I don’t know what to say here,” he said honestly as he watched his witch and felt his heart doing strange things in his chest.

“If you tell anyone, if you reveal even a trace of what I have told you, he will kill all three of us.”

Lucius looked at them both again before slowly walking out of the door, only to wish a few moments later that he had stayed.

“Lucius, follow me,” the Dark Lord hissed.

“Yes, Master,” he said, still a bit dazed, but keeping his mind firmly closed as he followed the Dark Lord down the hall a short ways.

“How is your witch?”

“Severus believes she’ll recover, Milord,” he said, his voice strong now, but his eyes accusing.

“Crucio!”

Lucius fell to the ground in pain, his cries echoing off the walls as his master tortured him. Sweat was beading on his brow and he thought, in his pain-clouded mind, that the Dark Lord was finally going to kill him. His death would leave Hermione unprotected and that mattered more to him at that moment than anything; more than the Daily Prophet leaking the story about Narcissa, more than his son’s accusations when he refused to hold a proper burial for his wife, and more than the knowledge that perhaps Severus was right after all. He struggled to live so he could protect his mudblood slave, his witch. Soon, however, the pain became unbearable and he passed out with the others watching on.

“Pity,” Voldemort said quietly. “Leave him here to awaken,” he added to his followers, “and let this be a lesson that I will not tolerate failure.”

Back in her room, Hermione had regained consciousness and was slowly regaining her strength. “Did you hear that, Severus? It sounded like screams.”

“I heard, Granger. I believe Lucius was receiving the rest of his punishment, your torture perhaps being the first part.”

She looked at him with wide-eyes before shaking off his words. Standing quickly she said, “Then we must go to him, we must take care of him.”

Just as she was standing, the door slid open and Lucius fell into the room. “Hermione,” he croaked, before passing out once more.

Severus levitated the man unto the bed and poured the remaining potions down his throat.

“It appears to only have been the Torture Curse. I think he’ll be fine shortly. In the meantime, be careful what you say. He knows of our true allegiances, and he knows where they don’t lie.”

“He knows?” she asked worriedly.

“Yes, it didn’t help that you called him a bastard while you were recovering.”

“Oh gods, Severus, I am so sorry.”

“I think it will be alright. I suppose we will just have to wait and see. In the meantime, take care of him and get him ready for yet another mission tomorrow.”

“I will and thank you, Severus. I know there are times he hates me, but I will take care of him.”

“Hates you?”

“Yes,” she replied sadly, “there are times he’s happy with me and other times that he’s very angry. Half the time I don’t even know what I do that makes him so angry.”

“If it helps, Granger, I don’t think the anger is directed at you as much as at himself.”

With those words, Severus left Hermione alone with Lucius. She gently stroked his forehead and applied a cool rag as she waited on him to awake. He mumbled her name a few times, but for the next hour, that’s all she got.

“Hermione,” he mumbled after a time.

“I’m here, Lucius,” she cooed softly.

He began to stir a bit more and when he saw her awake and sitting over him, he very weakly raised his arms and pulled her down on top of him, holding her close as he drifted off once more. She snuggled into his embrace, hating herself as she silently thanked Narcissa for her death.

Chapter End Notes:
Thank you all SO much for the reviews!!! Heartfelt thanks and all that mushiness!

Next chapter someone will "take advantage" of Hermione. Any ideas who that will be? And I promise, it won't be nice...

Someone we all love will die next chapter as well! :( Hermione will be devastated---any ideas?