The End Is The Beginning Is The End
Please, I would like to die
Hermione did not see Lucius for three days.
During that time her body recovered from the physical injuries Draco inflicted upon her.
Her mind, however, was another story.
‘Do you have a potion to fix me?’ She asked Meridus, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.
He shifted uneasily.
‘Fix you?’
‘I don’t want to feel anymore. I’m tired of it. I just want to be numb.’ She paused and looked at him hopefully, ‘I’m sure there is something. If you needed help, I could help you find the right spell.’
He fidgeted uncomfortably, ‘Ms. Granger, I don’t think that would be wise.’
She slumped in her bed, and stared dully at her hands, ‘I knew you would say that. Why I even bother to ask is beyond me.’
She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead, ‘Why didn’t you let me die? Because Lucius wanted me to live, so he could hurt me more too? You men are all the same. You should have let me die.’
Maridus pretended to adjust her blanket, ‘Ms. Granger, I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with His grace, but I think he values your existence. ‘
‘He tortured me for weeks and manipulated me until he got the information he wanted to kill my friends,’ she dully said, ‘then his son tortures me, kills our baby. How many times have I seen him? Once. I don’t think he cares about me.’
Maridus stared miserably at his hands.
He did not reply, and his silence seemed to be an affirmation for her assessment.
Hermione turned onto her side and curled into a ball.
And tried with all her might to pretend that none of this was real.
__________________
Coward.
Lucius leaned against the door, listening quietly to the same words Hermione had been repeating since he had met her. Of course a few things were different—the fact that he was actually listening, for one, and the fact that she had miscarried were all new.
But she was correct. He was someone who did horrific things to her, to reach his goal.
And there was no guarantee he would hurt her again. In fact, he was certain that he would.
But he found that ever since he recognized that his feelings for her leaned towards—dare he even think it—love—facing her was something he no longer wished to do.
He could laugh out loud.
He had never been more miserable in his entire life.
He had no idea how to make his feelings known to her. He barely understood them himself. But their power was overwhelming. He wanted to do things to her, things that he was certain she would reject.
Lucius clenched his hands into fists.
This couldn’t go on much longer, or one of them would surely die.