The Robber Bridegroom
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
8,303
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
8,303
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Watch
Title: Watch
Set: Grey
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: AU/AR, Mutilation, Torture, Rape, Cannibalism
Summary: #13 – Watch. ‘I want to feel you touch my pain. I want to drown in your misery.’ ‘Pure’ by Gary Numan.
Word Count: 940 words.
Author's Notes: This set of drabbles is based off of ‘The Robber Bridegroom,’ and the original tale can be read here: http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm040.html
#13 – Watch
There were secret passages in the Manor, and was through those Hermione moved from time to time. The need to keep herself hidden was a point that was impressed upon her. The elves did not use the passages, and Hermione wondered that if at one time the Manor employed human servants.
The passage from the study to the kitchens was one she used often, only second to the passage from the library down to the basement dungeons. Hermione spent a great deal of daylight time in the library, though she could not touch the books. She contented herself with reading the titles on the spines and remembering the contents of some of the book she had read in another lifetime.
It was as she was mentally reading a book on ‘Shaman of the Siberian Steppes’ that a noise came from one of the rooms adjoining the library. Hermione had kept out of the room, after Aniel warned her it was the Master’s private parlour, and the place where he often entertained friends at times. Glancing to the large windows on the western wall, she figured the time to be about eight in the evening.
For two weeks, Hermione had yet to catch sight of anyone other than the elves. The Manor was empty of any other human life. However, as she moved to the door to the parlour, she found it slightly ajar. The parlour was lit with candles, a dark paneled room with a central table, like a dining table, made of dark ebony, but the surface scarred with scratches and stained with something that was slightly viscous.
The far doors, leading to the foyer burst open, and five black-cloaked figures entered, carrying a struggling figure that was bound and gagged for silence. Hermione itched to escape to the passage away, but as the five figures laid the struggling person on the table, she caught sight of a familiar face.
The bound figure stopped struggling, as if Stunned as it lay upon the table. Wide blue eyes roamed the room, and swept past where Hermione hid behind the door. A filthy gag was flecked with bloody spittle, and bonds cut into thick wrists. Shaggy, unkempt red hair spilled over the ebony table like blood, and the clothing the figure wore was ragged and tattered.
The five figures in black stood around the table, but Hermione could see perfectly from her vantage point. Cowls were pulled back, and Hermione shivered at the sight of five men she knew well enough to fear. The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, Crabbe Sr., and Goyle Sr.…
Motion caught her attention as a sixth figure entered the parlour, closing the door behind it. A cowl and a mask were pulled away, and Hermione, for the first time in many years, laid eyes on Lucius Malfoy.
He was still as pale and patrician in nature as she remembered. However, there were differences that made her wonder at her new Master. His silver eyes were dulled, his lips colourless. He seemed thinner, tired. He was still alluring, like a silver idol of fey manufacture, but she knew all to well of his cruelty.
“And which Weasley is this?” he asked.
His voice was different from what she remembered, no trademark drawl, only disinterest.
“The youngest son, Potter’s mate,” Crabbe growled.
Hermione’s eyes moved back to her friend who kept very still as he studied the faces above him.
“And Potter?”
“Escaped again. I was about to Stun him…” one of the Lestrange brothers said angrily.
Lucius Malfoy sighed, and doffed his cloak and threw it over the back of one of the couches in the room. He wore Death Eater dragon hide armour, his long, pale, sinew-bound arms bare.
“No matter,” Lucius sighed, falling into an armchair near the fire, almost out of Hermione’s line of sight. “Do what you wish with the brat, but keep in mind that the Dark Lord wants his head to show to Potter later.”
Hermione shifted, moving to angle her eye to Lucius whose face was lit by the fire. She tried to ignore the sounds of Ron’s clothing being ripped away, and the muffled screams. She could only watch Lucius’ face. His eyes were distant as he sat back heavily into his chair.
When the gag was ripped away, Ron screamed a terrible sound that had Hermione’s lips quivering. She could not watch, though she knew that the five men were taking turns hexing her friend, at first. The scent of blood made Hermione gag and she pressed her fist against her mouth.
Lucius flinched at a wet strangled sound, and rubbed his eyes, leaving his hand poised upon his brow. It was clear that her Master had no taste for torturing and raping other men—Pureblooded men. Her Master was trying to block out the piggish squeal Crabbe Sr. made as he impaled himself inside his victim. A finger moved to his lips and he bit down in disgust as the screams stopped and the sound of slick blood and sinew moving over greedy hands to greedier mouths filled the room.
Hermione had to back away from the door as out of the corner of her eye she saw Dolohov cast a Slicing Curse upon the neck and a red haired head fell to the rug, coming to rest near the door where Hermione hid. Wide blue, dead eyes peered at her, accusatory…
She ran, her slippers making no noise over the tiled floor of the library, but a whimper passed her lips, echoing through the darkened space.
And her Master heard, lifting his eyes to the ajar library door.
Set: Grey
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: AU/AR, Mutilation, Torture, Rape, Cannibalism
Summary: #13 – Watch. ‘I want to feel you touch my pain. I want to drown in your misery.’ ‘Pure’ by Gary Numan.
Word Count: 940 words.
Author's Notes: This set of drabbles is based off of ‘The Robber Bridegroom,’ and the original tale can be read here: http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm040.html
#13 – Watch
There were secret passages in the Manor, and was through those Hermione moved from time to time. The need to keep herself hidden was a point that was impressed upon her. The elves did not use the passages, and Hermione wondered that if at one time the Manor employed human servants.
The passage from the study to the kitchens was one she used often, only second to the passage from the library down to the basement dungeons. Hermione spent a great deal of daylight time in the library, though she could not touch the books. She contented herself with reading the titles on the spines and remembering the contents of some of the book she had read in another lifetime.
It was as she was mentally reading a book on ‘Shaman of the Siberian Steppes’ that a noise came from one of the rooms adjoining the library. Hermione had kept out of the room, after Aniel warned her it was the Master’s private parlour, and the place where he often entertained friends at times. Glancing to the large windows on the western wall, she figured the time to be about eight in the evening.
For two weeks, Hermione had yet to catch sight of anyone other than the elves. The Manor was empty of any other human life. However, as she moved to the door to the parlour, she found it slightly ajar. The parlour was lit with candles, a dark paneled room with a central table, like a dining table, made of dark ebony, but the surface scarred with scratches and stained with something that was slightly viscous.
The far doors, leading to the foyer burst open, and five black-cloaked figures entered, carrying a struggling figure that was bound and gagged for silence. Hermione itched to escape to the passage away, but as the five figures laid the struggling person on the table, she caught sight of a familiar face.
The bound figure stopped struggling, as if Stunned as it lay upon the table. Wide blue eyes roamed the room, and swept past where Hermione hid behind the door. A filthy gag was flecked with bloody spittle, and bonds cut into thick wrists. Shaggy, unkempt red hair spilled over the ebony table like blood, and the clothing the figure wore was ragged and tattered.
The five figures in black stood around the table, but Hermione could see perfectly from her vantage point. Cowls were pulled back, and Hermione shivered at the sight of five men she knew well enough to fear. The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, Crabbe Sr., and Goyle Sr.…
Motion caught her attention as a sixth figure entered the parlour, closing the door behind it. A cowl and a mask were pulled away, and Hermione, for the first time in many years, laid eyes on Lucius Malfoy.
He was still as pale and patrician in nature as she remembered. However, there were differences that made her wonder at her new Master. His silver eyes were dulled, his lips colourless. He seemed thinner, tired. He was still alluring, like a silver idol of fey manufacture, but she knew all to well of his cruelty.
“And which Weasley is this?” he asked.
His voice was different from what she remembered, no trademark drawl, only disinterest.
“The youngest son, Potter’s mate,” Crabbe growled.
Hermione’s eyes moved back to her friend who kept very still as he studied the faces above him.
“And Potter?”
“Escaped again. I was about to Stun him…” one of the Lestrange brothers said angrily.
Lucius Malfoy sighed, and doffed his cloak and threw it over the back of one of the couches in the room. He wore Death Eater dragon hide armour, his long, pale, sinew-bound arms bare.
“No matter,” Lucius sighed, falling into an armchair near the fire, almost out of Hermione’s line of sight. “Do what you wish with the brat, but keep in mind that the Dark Lord wants his head to show to Potter later.”
Hermione shifted, moving to angle her eye to Lucius whose face was lit by the fire. She tried to ignore the sounds of Ron’s clothing being ripped away, and the muffled screams. She could only watch Lucius’ face. His eyes were distant as he sat back heavily into his chair.
When the gag was ripped away, Ron screamed a terrible sound that had Hermione’s lips quivering. She could not watch, though she knew that the five men were taking turns hexing her friend, at first. The scent of blood made Hermione gag and she pressed her fist against her mouth.
Lucius flinched at a wet strangled sound, and rubbed his eyes, leaving his hand poised upon his brow. It was clear that her Master had no taste for torturing and raping other men—Pureblooded men. Her Master was trying to block out the piggish squeal Crabbe Sr. made as he impaled himself inside his victim. A finger moved to his lips and he bit down in disgust as the screams stopped and the sound of slick blood and sinew moving over greedy hands to greedier mouths filled the room.
Hermione had to back away from the door as out of the corner of her eye she saw Dolohov cast a Slicing Curse upon the neck and a red haired head fell to the rug, coming to rest near the door where Hermione hid. Wide blue, dead eyes peered at her, accusatory…
She ran, her slippers making no noise over the tiled floor of the library, but a whimper passed her lips, echoing through the darkened space.
And her Master heard, lifting his eyes to the ajar library door.