The Spring of the Satyr

“Mother, what do you think this is?” Draco asked, sitting in a soft, cushioned chair in his mother’s clandestine bedroom, hidden deep within the secrets of the manor. He had been rifling through the contents of Hermione’s weekend bag. Lacy wisps of lingerie, like she’d never thought to wear for him, littered the floor along a few regular outfits and her toiletries. He held up a rolled piece of parchment, covered in Hermione’s fine, neat handwriting. “She had it in her hand when I stunned her.”

Narcissa took the parchment and read the lines of the spell, intrigued. It looked a bit like “Specialis Revelio”, only much more finely detailed. She smiled smugly. The spell she’d cast on Lucius couldn’t be revealed by magical means, nor could it be removed until the caster chose to remove it. That’s what made the spell so very special, well, that and the fact that it drove the bastard to distraction. She thought about her captive. Poor little darling, did she really think it would be that easy? Still, she’d never heard of this spell. She retrieved Hermione’s wand from her pile of belongings and held it aloft. “Prior Incantato!”

Translucent specters of clothing sprang from the tip of the wand, folding themselves and lining up neatly in the bag. The mundane scene quickly evaporated and morphed into a seated Hermione, trying half-heartedly to produce an atmospheric charm, Narcissa snickered at the poor quality of the spellwork. “I thought she was supposed to be bright?” She said, still laughing.

“Charms class.” Draco said in explanation. “She wasn’t really paying attention. She usually IS very bright.” He didn’t know why he still felt compelled to defend her. After all the pain she’d caused him, all the humiliation. He felt a momentary twinge of irritation at himself.

The images changed again and both watchers stared in amazement as a ghostly image of a naked Hermione erupted from the wand. She seemed to be studying herself in an unseen glass. Strange, glowing strands of light covered her body. He saw her hand reach slowly to the top of her head, pulling at one of them, then lowering to her side. They both watched the scene in utter incomprehension. What had she been doing?

Narcissa held out a small, cork-stoppered bottle of light brown liquid. “I think you should pay our guest a visit Draco.” She smiled as he took it from her, uncorked it and swallowed a mouthful in disgust. “It’s not so bad my darling. I’ve certainly tasted worse!” She knew the taste of Lucius very well, having impersonated him on more than one occasion. Severus had loved nothing more than to be ravished and dominated by her when she wore her husband’s body. It had been his favorite game, and one she’d found delicious. She’d never enjoyed sex as a woman, but as a man,,, especially this powerful and well-endowed one,, it had been exhilarating! “Enjoy yourself son.” She said, kissing him chastely on the cheek. “Remember what she’s done to you. Remember what both of them have done.” She paused, looking deeply into his eyes, measuring him. “Can you go through with it?”

Draco, fingers sliding over the strange, alien lines of his face, nodded. He dug down, deep into the muddy depths of his pain and anger, dredging the hate to the surface. “Yes mother, I can do it.”

**

Hermione sighed and snuggled deeper into the arms of her lover. Safe and secure cocooned in his embrace, she felt as if she could lie there forever. She looked lovingly up into his remarkable eyes and tried to reach a hand up to touch his face. Her hands wouldn’t move. She struggled, trying to free herself to touch him, feeling as if she would go mad if she couldn’t touch him - but they wouldn’t budge. She whimpered in her sleep and tried to roll over, her bindings wouldn’t allow it. She realized vaguely that she was dreaming and willed herself not to wake up. Gentle fingers caressed her jaw and neck, working themselves into her hair. She smiled, thankful the dream was continuing. Awake meant pain, terror and confusion,, dreaming,,, dreaming was better.

She felt the fingers again and realized in horror that she WAS awake – and someone was in the room with her. Her heart raced and eyes flew open, expecting to see one of her torturers; Bellatrix, Fenrir Greyback and even Voldemort had all taken their turn at tormenting her. Sometimes it was strictly mental, berating her looks, muggle heritage and “sluttish” ways, but other times the physical torture had been enough to make her want to take her own life. Only the thought of Lucius kept her alive. What would her death do to him?

Sobs erupted from her chest as she came fully awake and stared into the gloriously handsome face staring down at her in concern. He had come! She’d known he would! “Lucius!” She whispered through her tears, joy filling her heart.

Draco stared at Hermione’s ravaged face in horror. What in the bloody hell had his mother done to her? He knew she said she was going to torture the girl and he hadn’t given much thought to what that actually meant, but Oh My God! He’d never imagined anything like what he saw before him! The fingernail marks down the side of her cheek had dried to four, blood crusted stripes and angry purple welts crisscrossed the rest, as if his mother had taken a stout cane to every part of her face.

He stared down at the bruised and battered naked body lying on damp, urine soiled sheets. She’d not even been given the simple human decency of a cover in the frigid room. Suddenly, he felt a profound, soul-shattering shame such as he’d never known. He removed his robes and laid them over her. “I’m so sorry Hermione.” He whispered in a strange, strangled voice.

Confused, Hermione tried to open her swollen eyes wider. Why wasn’t he untying her bonds? “Lucius please!” She begged, “Please get me out of here!” She wiggled her arms, still tied to the bed. What was wrong with him?

For a brief moment, Draco stared at the bonds, pausing as if he’d never seen rope before. He was supposed to be here, raping her, making her loathe and despise the man whose face he wore, making her sorry she’d ever hurt him, making her want him back. Instead, his hands fumbled with the ropes, trying to work the difficult knots. They wouldn’t budge. He pointed his wand carefully at the ropes. “Diffindo!” The ropes split and Hermione’s long-tied arms fell useless down the sides of the bed.

“What in the hell do you think you are doing!” Narcissa melted through the wall, wearing her own face in the girl’s presence for the first time. She was too angry to care. The fucking little mudblood would never leave this room to tell anyone, she’d see to THAT herself! What in the hell was Draco playing at? Alone in the room with her, ropes unbound, with his wand lying unattended on the bed as he rubbed the blood back into her arms? Seeing her husband/son’s hands actually touching the filthy whore in kindness was driving her insane. “Back away!” She ordered, raising her wand.

Draco didn’t look up, his hands moving up and down Hermione’s arms, bringing them back to life. He scooted his body to block as much of the girl as he could. “No mother.” He stated simply, determined.

Hermione looked at the man she’d thought was Lucius in dawning horror. She whimpered and tried to will her arms away from his touch. Her eyes flicked to Narcissa and the familiar wand that pointed at her head. “Draco?” She whispered, looking back at him.

“You’ve tortured her enough.” He said, resolutely ignoring the girl who looked at him with so much suffering and blame clear in her brown eyes. “I never imagined you could do this to anyone mother. I won’t be a part of it.” He met his mothers eyes, challenging.

Seeing the resolve on his face, Narcissa took a breath and tried to compose herself. She spoke to him beseechingly. “I only did it for you my darling, to avenge you for the wrongs she and your father have done to you.” She gestured at the marks on the girl’s face. “I may have gotten a bit carried away, but it was only out of love for you.” She paused, looking at Draco, pleading his understanding. “She is still alive is she not?”

“Barely.” Draco said disgustedly, meeting Hermione’s frantic eyes for the first time. He flinched as his mother grasped his arm, trying to pull him away.

Narcissa held out the parchment they had found in the girl’s possession. “One last spell Draco, I swear.” She turned his face to look at her. “It won’t hurt her. We just need to see what it does, if it’s a trace to lead your father here.”

Draco thought it would be decidedly unpleasant for both he and his mother if his father were to find Hermione now. He didn’t think the man would hesitate to kill them both. Even wearing his father’s body, he felt the phantom pain of his broken nose, and that was only given for the suspicion that he knew where she was! If the man were to see her now! He nodded in wary agreement and raised his wand at his mother’s face, hoping he’d be quick enough to block if she did anything unexpected. He backed away from the bed.

Smiling victoriously, Narcissa chanted the spell of revelation. Hermione’s body was instantly covered once again in the golden, swirling strands of light, their brilliant glow illuminating the semi-darkened room. Narcissa stood back and studied the effect, noticing the intricate, pulsing weaves of the filaments, noting that one in particular, beginning at the top of her head, lead out through the wall of the room. Aha! It appeared to be a tracer, or bond of some sort. She had no doubt who it lead to.

Hermione cried harder as her precious, private secret became visible to the hated woman. “No please!” She begged, almost preferring the torture of the last few days to this terrible, violating desecration of what she held most dear. She screamed as Narcissa neared, hands outstretched to tear the swirling strings away.