The Downfall of Greed

“So this is it then?” she asked as we passed through the gate. “You’re going to just let me go to him without a fight?”

“I’m loyal to the Dark Lord above anything else,” I answered. “You will go and prove that I have taught you well. You will be polite and accommodating.”

“And what are you going to do while I’m gone, Lucius? Are you going to think about him touching me? Or are you just going to pretend it isn’t happening?”

Jealousy bubbled in my chest. She was right. The next couple of hours were going to be complete torture. How had she wormed her way under my skin so deeply?

I held out my arm for side-Apparation. She took it with tears in her eyes. “I need to tell you something,” she said.

“Don’t,” I warned, my stomach twisting painfully. I had a guess of what she needed to tell me.

She ignored my plea. “No, I’ve got to tell you before we go. I don’t know why, but it seems important that you know now.” She paused to make sure I was paying attention. I avoided her gaze. “I love you,” she whispered.

I shook my head and Apparated.

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Voldemort sat at the table in the room where the Weasleys were killed. I wouldn’t be surprised if he picked this room to receive us just to intimidate the girl, not that she needed it.

I bowed, and after a pointed glare at her, Hermione stepped out from behind me where she’d been hiding and gave a wobbly curtsy.

“Good evening, my Lord,” I greeted him.

“Lucius, Miss. Granger,” he acknowledged. He surveyed the girl next to me and gave a small smile. “Come here, Miss. Granger,” he ordered. She obediently went to his side. He stood up to face her and tucked a curl behind her ear to get a better look at her. “Good girl. You’ve done a good job with her, Lucius.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

One of his hands went around her waist while the other stroked down her face and neck. She stood stiff and unmoving. I made a soft sound of protest in the back of my throat.

“You are dismissed, Lucius. I shall return her when I am finished.”

I dashed out of the room before I did something I regretted.

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I knew her. I knew her body. Every inch of it.

I knew what drove her wild.

I knew every little sound of contentment and pleasure.

And now I was imagining another man touching her where I’d touched her, eliciting those sounds that I’d first made her express. It drove me mad. It should be me and no one else who was allowed to do such things.

I paced my room. For a change in scenery, I paced the library. I walked the rose garden. I tried reading. I tried doing paperwork. Anything to get my mind off of what was happening at that same exact moment.

After unsuccessfully trying to distract myself, I slumped into my chair in the library and poured myself a drink. I spent the remainder of my evening in the self-destructive activity of thinking of her.

At 2 AM, when I was good and drunk and depressed, I had to admit to myself that she wasn’t coming back that night and I forced myself to bed. I didn’t sleep. I just stared at the ceiling, feeling like shit.

I showered and dressed early to be sure that I was ready and presentable for when Voldemort brought her home. By noon, I was a nervous wreck. I had taken to pacing the front hallway, pausing to look out the window at the gate.

When two figures appeared, I nearly ran out the door to meet them halfway up the walkway. Voldemort looked… satiated. Relaxed. She looked relieved to see me. I knew I was relieved to finally see her.

“Lucius,” he greeted me.

“My Lord,” I answered. “I was getting worried. I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.”

“A little at the start but I think that was only because our techniques are different. She was agreeable once I asserted my power over her.” He turned around to look at the girl who was respectively standing three steps behind him with her head bowed. “You may go to him since you are so eager.” She quickly moved to stand behind me. “You should hear her thoughts, Lucius,” the Dark Lord commented lightly. “She thinks of you a lot. Fancies herself in love with you.”

“I know. It’s quite a bother.” Outside, I was nonchalant. Inside, I felt a sense of triumph that such a statement was true.

“It is a testament to your success with her, but it is something you must break before she comes to me permanently. It’s quite a distraction when your face flashes through her mind every couple of seconds.”

“Of course. I will work on that right away.”

“See that you do. Now, I have business to attend to. I shall let you know when I require her for another night. Good afternoon.” He turned on his heel and disappeared through the gate.

As soon as he was gone, she slumped against me. I barely caught her before she hit the ground. She leaned her head weakly against my chest as I picked her up and brought her inside.

I laid her on the couch and summoned a glass of cold water. She drank it gratefully and then leaned back and closed her eyes.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, running my hands over her to find any wounds.

“Not physically.”

I stopped trying to find injuries and kneeled next to her. “Tell me what happened,” I ordered, the suspense killing me.

She cracked open an eye to look at me and gave a little shrug. “Nothing that I wasn’t expecting. Pain, humiliation. He was rough. It was horrible. I just closed my eyes and wished for it to stop.”

“But he kept you all night…”

“Multiple sessions,” was her simple answer.

“Did you come?”

“You are really concerned if I enjoyed myself?” She sighed exasperatedly when I didn’t waver. “He made me against my will. It took forever. He said he’d get me to enjoy him like I enjoy you eventually.”

“He said you were agreeable. It doesn’t sound as if you were.”

“Believe me, I made sure that your training and methods were not put into question. I was polite and obedient. I wasn’t a willing participant but neither was I a fighting rape victim. He was pleased that it went as well as it did for the first time. Is your curiosity satisfied? I’d rather not talk or think about it anymore.”

My curiosity wasn’t at all satisfied. I needed to know every detail so I could alleviate the overwhelming jealousy. I must have made a sound of protest because she pushed herself into a sitting position and allowed me to sit next to her so she could curl up against me. “You are in all ways better than he is and I didn’t find a moment of enjoyment the whole time. Shouldn’t you be the one comforting me?” I put my arm around her and she laid her head upon my lap. I stared into the fire for several minutes in silence.

“Could you bear to do it again?” She didn’t answer because she had fallen fast asleep. “I don’t think I could…” I told her sleeping figure.

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I fingered Severus’s letter, rereading the end again and again.

“The Order will always take you into their folds if you find the life as a Death Eater no longer suitable for you. You always have options.”

I could see my son again. Hermione would be safe. I would never have to give her over. We could be together. And my life would be so much simpler without Voldemort in it. No more torture, no more pain, no more death.

A smart man would know what to do straightaway. He’d pen a note to the Order, wait for their instructions, and whisk Hermione off to safety. I considered myself a smart man. Malfoys have been known to save their own skin above all else and do anything to get what they wanted. Then why couldn’t I write the bloody note to ensure that we’d be safe and I’d get to keep her?

Years of Pureblood breeding and a life of supporting the Dark Lord made me hesitate. My morals and beliefs were important to me. Was I a weak man for wanting to throw that all away for a girl and an easier life? There was a chance that I’d be moving from the winning side to the losing side.

But there was also a chance that I’d be moving from the losing side to the winning side…

An arm slid around my shoulders as Hermione came up behind me. She had been sleeping in the bed as I contemplated my future in front of the fire. “What’s that?” she asked. I handed the letter to her silently so she could read it. She snorted. “He would take points.” She handed it back to me. “You miss him,” she murmured, misreading my reflective state.

“I think I might take his advice,” I said bluntly.

“Write to the Order?” The shock on her face was evident. “Are you sure? It’s such a sudden change, Lucius. Did you think it through?”

“Of course!” I snapped. “Of course,” I said more gently when she flinched. I grabbed her wrists. “I need to keep you from him, Hermione, and if this is the way to do it, then so be it.”

She pulled away, suddenly angry. “Are you doing this because you can’t bear to watch him take something you want? Or are you doing this because you actually care for me?” I was silent, trying to figure it out for myself for I had no idea. The longer I was silent, the more distressed she got. “When I told you I loved you, you never answered. I want an answer now. Do you love me or could you come to love me as I do you? Are you even capable of love?”

“I love my son.”

“It’s not the same type of love.” I was at a loss for words so I just sat there glaring at her as she glared at me. After a long, tortuous silence she seemed to make up her mind about something. “Listen, I’ll make this easy for you. Now with both choices, you lose me. If you don’t go to the Order, I go to Voldemort. If I you do go to the Order, I make sure that they never let you see me again. Now that I am out of the equation, you can make the choice that’s best for you. Although, if you had a decent bone in your body or an ounce of care for me, you’d write to the Order and save me.”

She turned around, grabbed a blank piece of parchment and a quill, and set them on the small table in front of my chair. “The choice is yours, Lucius.”

With that, she lay back down on the bed and faced the wall, making it obvious that she didn’t want to be around me anymore.

I stared at the blank parchment long into the late hours of the night.