Madame Scarlet's

Author’s Note: Many thanks to Deb and Laurel for their work on this chapter. I know it’s been ages since I’ve updated this story, and there isn’t a lot left to write on it now. (maybe 3 chapters or so) So, hopefully the next update won’t take as long. Thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Hugs and Squishes.

Chapter 17 Grave Offence

“Thank you so much for meeting with me, Mr. Thist,” Hermione greeted, extending her hand out to shake. She’d grown weary of listening to her professors bicker amongst themselves and of Ron’s reluctance to be around any of them since their meeting with Lady Malfoyand decided to schedule an appointment with the man Narcissa had recommended they speak to on her own.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked. “It’s not everyday one is summoned by the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Thist was a wiry man but his face was handsome in an unconventional way. It was peculiar, because she certainly wouldn’t have guessed this man was a Cambion like Harry. He certainly didn’t have any besotted Ministry officials knocking down his door, or letters professing lusty desire littering his desk, but then perhaps he wasn’t a true Cambion at all. Lady Malfoy had only said he could help them track down the group of Cambions, not that he was part of it in any official capacity.

“I’m not the best at dropping hints, Sir, so I hope that you’ll pardon my bluntness,” she began. The man nodded, his thick brown hair falling slightly with the movement. “I’d like to meet with the Cambions.”

If she had been expecting shock, she was sorely disappointed. The man gazed at her placidly and pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

Hermione produced the card she’d been given and slid it across the desk. “Narcissa Malfoy assured me that you do.”

He glanced at it briefly and then leveled his gaze back on Hermione, who patiently waited for him to stop this game and get down to business. “Forgive me, but what business could you possibly have with a group like that?”

“Well, it’s personal,” she admitted, but she didn’t think the man was foolish enough to give her everything she wanted without a little bait, “and I’m afraid it involves Harry. He’s been taken, you see.”

“By the Cambions? That’s impossible,” he started, looking borderline outraged at the very notion of it.

“No, Sir. He’s been captured by people who wish to exploit the Cambions for financial gain,” she corrected.

Thist leaned back in his chair and whistled long and low. “Harry Potter,” he whispered, more to himself than his guest. “One of us?”

“Well, they think so anyhow,” Hermione said, quick to leave the subject unconfirmed. Still, it was interesting to learn that this man was, in fact, a true Cambion. Perhaps he could be of more help than simply introducing her to the group leaders.

“I’ve heard rumors,” he continued, still talking to the air, “of a brothel housing only our kind as slaves, but I thought it was an urban legend. It seemed like something of nightmares and cautionary tales.”

“I assure you, it’s not,” Hermione said. “I have a good deal of information and a vested interest in having the entire scene dismantled, but I need help.”

For a moment Thist looked positively hungry for that information before he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, his elbows pressed heavily into the desk’s surface. “How do I know you’re not just making all of this up?”

“I suppose you don’t,” Hermione said. “I can only offer my word. Harry is in danger and probably in pain and I can’t suffer with that knowledge much longer. I need to do something to help him and I think you might be my only chance.”

The man stared at her for a long time, seemingly studying her every feature before nodding once curtly. He swept the card from the desk and scribbled an address on the reverse side before handing it back to her. “Be at this address at half past seven tonight,” he instructed, “and come alone.”

“I have a few companions I’d like to-”

“Come. Alone,” he repeated in a tone so stern, Hermione didn’t dare argue again.

“Very well,” she huffed. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Thist. I hope this works out beneficially for all of us.”

“If what you’re saying is true, Miss Granger, I assure you that the offenders in question will burn in the brightest of fires before we are done,” he replied, his voice low and suddenly quite terrifying. She almost wished she hadn’t agreed to meet with the group sans backup. She knew better than to question him however, and, in the end, wasn’t that what she wanted? For Lucius Malfoy to die a long and excruciating death for what he was likely doing to her friend?

It most certainly was.

So she bowed and left the man’s office as quickly as her legs would carry her, biding her time until her meeting that evening.

Draco was trembling. He was sure of it. He figured that regardless of the fact that his father was controlling everything he did with the Imperius curse, that some bit of his internal struggle had to be getting through. It just had to be.

As Lucius opened the door ahead of him, ushering Draco through to the office that held a kneeling Harry Potter, his entire body began to convulse and protest. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t assist his father in his twisted mission to bed his mate. It was sick and aberrant and wrong. “Harry,” he whispered, causing the boy to turn and meet his gaze.

Harry looked worn and distressed. He’d obviously been fighting off the Incubus buried within his veins, but it was also obvious that he was losing. A tremor ran down Draco’s spine as he took in the disheveled state of the man he loved, wondering only if Harry could see the real Draco buried deep inside the puppet Lucius had created.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied blandly, only a hint of the lust stirring within him sneaking through. “Other Malfoy,” he added, sneering up at Lucius. “It’s uncanny how similar you are when side-by-side,” he added, and Draco knew it was no compliment.

“And think of how doubly satisfied you’ll be when pressed between us both,” Lucius purred, but neither the tone nor words did anything to soften Harry’s expression.

“I’m honestly surprised I was invited,” Draco drawled. “Clearly any Malfoy will do to sate your thirst.”

Draco felt a tug on his consciousness, ordering his silence, and his mouth clamped shut so fast his teeth ached. He tried to shoot a glare back at his father, but Lucius wouldn’t allow any movement at all.

Harry winced and looked away, staring hard at the ground. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve changed my mind,” he replied gruffly. “The Incubus is manageable without either of you.”

Lucius stalked forward, ignoring Draco for the moment and grabbed a thick handful of Harry’s curls. He yanked Harry’s head up to face him, a feral glint in his eyes, before leaning down and capturing the boy’s mouth. “You will not take this away from me when it’s so close,” he snarled after pulling away from Harry’s bruised lips. “Do you hear me?”

“So, you’ve decided on rape then?” Harry asked, ignoring the call of the beast working its way to the surface.

“If I must,” Lucius growled. “Although, I’d rather you be willing.”

“One can’t always get what one wants,” Harry spat through gritted teeth. “Get it over with then.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes and, looking positively evil, stood up and stalked back over to his son. “Perhaps you would be more agreeable if I provided a show first.”

“What are you on about?” Harry asked, his eyes traveling the trail Lucius made across Draco’s jaw.

“You might think twice about resisting if I demonstrated just how cruel I am capable of being,” he answered, tearing at Draco’s collar. Draco, for his part, was screaming, cursing and flailing – although none of that could be observed by Harry. To Harry, he just looked complacent and pliable in his father’s hands.

“You wouldn’t,” Harry scoffed. “He’s your blood.”

“Was my blood,” Lucius corrected. “He’s nothing to me now but another whore.”

Harry swallowed, seeming to sense the truth in Lucius’ words. “Draco,” he said, turning to the younger blond. “What do you say to all of this?”

Draco fought his father’s influence for as long as he could, trying to swallow back the words that wanted desperately to escape his lips. “I am willing,” he said at last, screaming the untruth of the statement silently in his mind with a desperate hope that Harry might somehow hear him.

“You’ll just let your father use you like that?” Harry hissed, getting to his feet for the first time since he arrived in Lucius’ office – a room that seemed to practically ooze evil and debauchery through the wallpaper patterns.

“Who is to say he won’t enjoy it?” Lucius chortled. “Perhaps my Draco likes abuse.”

“You’re wrong,” Harry hissed, stalking forward. “I know what he likes, I know his body and I know-” Harry gasped, wanting to shake off the knowledge that came to him, but he was unable. “I know him. He’s mine as I am his.”

Lucius turned his lips up in disgust and rolled his eyes. “Very touching, but I think you’ll find you know very little about Draco. You want your father to fuck you, don’t you, son?”

Draco nodded, sobbing inside.

“Say it aloud, my boy. Tell our Harry how much you crave your father’s cock,” he whispered.

Draco’s lips trembled but there was nothing he could do to stop the onslaught of pain attacking him from every direction. “I want it. I need it,” he said at last, making Harry turn away in disgust.

“Get down on your knees, Draco,” he ordered, and the lithe blond fell. Lucius unbuckled his trousers with the speed of a professional and let them fall, revealing a protruding and slightly crooked cock. Harry wasn’t the least bit impressed. “Now, Son,” he began, carefully enunciating the title to draw out the very wrongness of it, “suck,” he ordered.

A potion seemed relatively useless at this juncture, but Snape wasn’t sure what other assistance he could provide given that his well of information about Madame Scarlet’s had all but dried up. Various tomes filled with recipes and ingredient lists sprawled in front of him, taking up every last inch of available table space. He scanned page after page, never finding anything that might help him track Lucius or the boys.

If only he had a clipping of hair or a drop of blood, then he could perhaps create a scrying potion for them, but Lucius was a clever man. He’d likely made the new club unplottable and masked his magical signature in some way. Surely whatever precautions he’d used on himself he would have used on his son and Harry, but anything was worth trying at the moment. So, when he finished sifting through the potions from twenty different volumes, Snape left his quarters in search of personal articles from both Harry and Draco’s rooms.

Locating Draco’s DNA was easy; he found a brush in the Slytherin bathroom with several strands of his flaxen hair. Finding something of Harry’s was much more difficult as his dorm was still in shambles from the fight the evening before. After sifting through the wreckage and painful memories it held, eventually he was able to find a set of robes with a fair amount of the Gryffindor’s blood dried into the fibers. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do in a pinch, and this situation most certainly qualified as a pinch.

Any moment now he assumed McGonagall would rain down on him like an angry Hippogriff, tearing him limb from limb for what he’d done. He deserved it, he knew that, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the need to rush at his task. He could bear a sentence in Azkaban if he knew that Harry was safe.

Even knowing that his feelings for the bratty Gryffindor were a farce, Snape couldn’t seem to shake the emotions their bond had created within him. He hoped, desperately so, that the bond would be able to help him when it came to locating Harry. He kept the tunnel between them wide open in case Harry had the energy or forethought to call out to him; although considering his faulty skills in protecting the boy before, he seriously doubted Harry would come to him for help again.

His task was a long shot, but it kept him busy. Besides, he knew it would be better that he found the boys and proved himself worthy instead of waiting for help to come to them like the others. It seemed Minerva, Weasley and Granger were content to rely on this fabled group of vigilante Cambions, but Snape couldn’t sit around and twiddle his thumbs. The bonds had bee thoroughly sealed in the minds of the two teens, so with little hope of utilizing it to locate them, Severus had decided to do what he did best. He would make his scrying potion, he would try to fight a path through Lucius’ defenses, and he would find out where the boys had been imprisoned.

Hermione shivered as if it were below freezing outside when, in fact, it was very mild. She knew she should have told someone where she was going. Merlin knew that Ron would have a fit if she didn’t turn up for breakfast in the morning, but she couldn’t let this chance pass her by. She walked carefully down the street, watching the numbers on the letterboxes decrease as she looked for Eighteen Mulberry Lane. The house, once she’d found it, was in good repair, but felt ominous still simply because she knew what she’d find inside.

Her mind had spun images of walking in on orgies and debauchery the moment she would open the door, even though she mostly knew that was nonsense. Tentatively she checked her watch, noted her promptness and then knocked on the door, hoping the person who answered would be fully dressed.

They were of course and she felt a little silly that she’d expected otherwise; she needn’t have worried about it at all. It was a woman who opened the door, smiling patiently down at Hermione as she squirmed on the stoop. “I’m Herm-”

“I know who you are, Child. Come in,” she said and stepped aside so that Hermione could enter.

She’d been expecting a dozen people at most, but the party that met her in the drawing room of the old manor home was something else entirely. At a glance, Hermione guessed there were at least fifty people cramped together in the tight space - some sitting, some standing and some milling about with drinks in hand. None of them were nude or entered into debauched acts. In fact, had Hermione not known better, she could have easily assumed this was some mundane book club instead of a group of carnal-craving Incubi.

“Miss Granger,” greeted the man she’d met earlier that day. Mr. Thist shook her hand and offered her a vacant chair in the center of the melee; she took it, wary of the many pairs of eyes now glued to her face.

“I’m here for your help,” she began, addressing the crowd as a whole. She decided to go about her request in the same manner she had with her one-on-one conversation with Thist - bluntly. “My friend, and the savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter, has been abducted by a cruel man.”

“What does this have to do with us?” someone interrupted from the back and Hermione fought not to scowl at them.

“Harry is an Incubi,” she said and waited for the gasps and murmurs to suppress before she continued. “He’s a Cambion rather since he’s not full blood, and the man who took him is trying to rent him out to the highest bidder. He’s been doing this for quite some time apparently,” she explained.

“And you know who the abductor is?” Hermione tried to search out the person who posed the question, but she couldn’t put a face to the voice.

“I do.”

“Then why do you need our help?” another voice asked. “Why not just go to the authorities? Kidnapping the Boy-Who-Lived would carry an Azkaban sentence on its own without bringing up the boy’s condition.”

“True,” she sighed, “but his accomplice has been converted to our cause, and he’s looked far and wide for the perpetrator and found no sign of him. I fear the Ministry will take too long. If someone who has intimate knowledge of the scheme cannot locate him, I don’t see how the Ministry can hope to.”

There was a murmur of agreement through the crowd. “Who is this man?”

“Lucius Malfoy,” she said and again the group burst into dissent. “He’s running a brothel that exploits your kind,” she added, trying to make her voice louder than the crowd. “He’s taken advantage of your…talents…for years now. He’s even caused the death of several Cambion.”

At that they grew silent, no longer protesting that they knew Lucius Malfoy and as foul as he was, they couldn’t believe he was capable of such atrocious behavior. Some had even commented on Narcissa’s status as a full blooded Succubus and how they couldn’t imagine a man exploiting the blood of their own wife. “How do you know all of this?” someone asked. It was a tall man, and he stepped forward with proud shoulders and a strong square jaw. Beautiful was too small a word to describe him. “Why should we believe the word of a little girl?”

“I’m of age, Sir,” she replied haughtily, rising to her feet. Stunning or no, she would not let the man intimidate her. “I have been informed by Lucius Malfoy’s accomplice, they have been working together in this scheme for some years now.”

“Causing the death of a Cambion is a grave accusation, Miss Granger. Are you quite certain? Do you know how they died? Can you provide us with the name of this accomplice?” Thist asked.

Hermione shook her head. She wasn’t willing to offer up the head of her Potions Master, as much as she despised him. Besides, she knew McGonagall wouldn’t spare Snape from prison considering what he’d done; he will pay for his crimes. The Professor was merely biding her time and waiting to see how much use he could be in recovering Harry, an action Hermione thoroughly agreed with.

“He told me that they died because they were denied their Mates,” she whispered to the deathly silent crowd. For long moments the uncommonly attractive group stared at Hermione, and then began to whisper amongst themselves.

“She tells the truth,” came a voice from behind her. Hermione whipped around to face Narcissa Malfoy in all her queenly blonde glory. “You’ve all heard the whispers about Madame Scarlet’s and been too afraid to act. I myself can be accused of cowardice. Deep down I knew what my husband was up to, I knew he had our blood on his hands and yet I did nothing. I feared what the controversy would do to my son, but now Lucius has gone too far. He’s taken my Draco, he’s taken Draco’s Mate, Harry Potter, and he’s trying to drive a permanent wedge between them. I will no longer stand by like a scared sheep. Who will stand with me against these offences?”

Her tone was commanding and everyone in the room paused to take note of her and hear her words. Eventually people started stepping forward. A few members of the crowd left, shaking their heads and muttering about obligations and this being just too messy, but the others stayed and agreed to help find Harry and Draco and bring Lucius to justice.

Hermione smiled; pleased to find that she’d gotten her way with a little persuasion from a woman who claimed she didn’t care one way or the other. Hermione had suspected those words had been false and it was always nice to be right.

Author’s Note: Well, I haven’t left you with much of an end cliffhanger, but how did you like that internal one?