Embers

“Incompetent fool!” Lucius screamed at his son, who strained to remain standing under his father’s verbal onslaught. “You were asked to kill two wizards, two wizards barely older than you and both of them drunk out of their Mudblood-loving minds. Yet again you demonstrate an amazing level of incompetence.” Lucius paced about the room, his eyes never leaving Draco.

“I almost had them,” Draco tried to interject, but was cut off by his father.

“Spare me your pitiful explanations. I find I am no longer interested in hearing anything you have to say.” His voice had gone deathly low.

Draco trembled. “Wh…what are you saying Father?” He found it increasingly hard to think straight. Images of the Aurors staring knowingly at him, the Dark Lord’s displeasure after he’d failed to kill Dumbledore, Dumbledore’s pained weakened expression as he offered safety and salvation, Snape, Aunt Bella hugging him after he’d made his first kill, his mother’s dead body…throwing her away…throwing everything away… The images swept violently through his mind. His face registering the gamut of emotions that coursed through him as each memory took center stage for a flickering moment. His world began to go black and he stumbled back. The Mudblood. ‘What about her?’ He wondered. He looked up and saw his father’s face, the long blond hair shimmering in the late morning sunlight that filtered through the large window. In Draco’s mind, the vision looked like an angel and he reached out for the extended hand, grasping it as a drowning man grasps a life-ring.

“Perhaps one last chance, Draco. One last chance to show me you are not weak like your mother.”

Draco nodded vigorously. “Yes, not weak, I’m not weak. I can do it. Give me a chance. I can do it, I can do it, I can do good, do good…” He followed his father blindly, still mumbling to himself.

Lucius did not appear at all convinced, but nevertheless led his son to the small prison that held Hermione. Lucius intended to kill two birds with one stone. He knew he would enjoy it immensely. He was already getting hard just picturing it in his mind.

Hermione still lay on the bed, clasping the pillow. She turned when she heard the door open. She was a little surprised to see Draco enter first, his father behind him. A line of worry appeared on her forehead when she realised Draco was being pushed in by his father. Draco stumbled forward, losing his balance and falling to the floor. Hermione sat up and looked back and forth between them.

“Get up!” Lucius growled. Hermione began to stand. “Not you!” He shoved her roughly back on the bed. She fell on her back, propping herself up with one elbow to see what was happening. Lucius had strode over to Draco and pulled him by his hair to a standing position. He shoved him against the wall on the other side of the bed. “You should get a good view from there. Now watch and I’ll show you how a real Death Eater treats his victims. Do try to enjoy it, Draco. It’s all good sport, after all. No different than a cat and mouse.”

A chill swept through Hermione when Lucius turned back to her. He ripped the pillow from her and cast it aside. She looked at Draco. He stared right at her, but his eyes were strangely vacant. She looked back at Lucius, who stood over her.

“Still trying to hold on to your undeserved modesty, Hermione?” He scowled deeply. She tried to brace herself for what she knew was coming. She lowered her arms to her side. Her breasts were bared to him, but he seemed still unsatisfied. “No, this will never do.”

“What would you have me do?” Her voice was low, but steady.

“Silence!” He flicked his wand and a large cut opened on her face and a second across her chest. “You are not wearing what you should be wearing. Have you checked the wardrobe today?” He gave her no time to respond. “Clearly not. You disappoint me, Hermione. I’d been told on good authority that you could follow directions.”

“I was sleeping. I’ll wear whatever you want. Shall I change?”

Lucius regarded her with contempt. “I…said…silence!” He raised his wand, whispered something and Hermione knew in an instant that she was now completely naked before him. Her lips trembled and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She swallowed, and then began to slowly spread her legs for him. A bolt of shock went through her at his next words. “You’ve misunderstood me, Hermione. That’s not what I had in mind.” She looked up at him, quivering, with incomprehension written on her face. Surely, he meant to rape her. “Turn over!” She continued to stare in nervous incomprehension. “My, my but aren’t you a naïve little girl?” He laughed. “I take it I shall be your first.”

She’d never know where she found the strength to comment back, “I’m not a virgin.”

Lucius laughed even louder. Draco began to slouch against the wall, as if in a losing battle with gravity. For the moment, Lucius did not notice him. His attention was on the naked girl before him. “Then you understand what it is I desire from you?” He smiled. “Turn over, Hermione.”

A look of desperation froze on her face as fear paralyzed her body. Lucius grabbed her and forcibly shoved her onto her front, painfully grasping her hips to position her. Without warning, he shoved his entire length into her arse, withdrew, and then entered her again and again. Hermione screamed in pain as her soft tissue tore further with each agonizing thrust. She grasped the sheets, only dimly aware that Draco, who stared wide-eyed at what was happening in front of him, had begun to shake his head from side to side, whispering “No…no…no…!”

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucius withdrew from her. The pain had lessened only marginally once his thrusts had stopped. She lay unmoving, tears wetting her cheeks. She heard Lucius talking, but the words failed to fully register. He seemed to be screaming at Draco.

“Can you not even stand for a few minutes?” Lucius pointed his wand at Draco, who had slumped completely to the floor. “Get up! Now!” Lucius grabbed Draco’s arm and hurled him onto the bed. He landed atop Hermione, one hand accidentally touching between her legs. He pulled it away, then noticed horror-struck that his hand was wet with her blood. Draco stood and looked at his father. “What are you waiting for, Draco? The little Mudblood is there for the taking.” Lucius motioned to Hermione, but did not look at her for several seconds. When he did turn his attention to her, he said only, “Turn over, Hermione. I think Draco would like to indulge in a more traditional manner.” He turned back to Draco. “You do wish to take her, don’t you? Use the little Mudblood for your own pleasure and then throw her away once you’re finished.”

Hermione turned over as pains shot through her. She could see Draco cowering under his father’s gaze. She didn’t know what to think. She stared at Draco, startled to see him fall to the floor and begin screaming. Only then did she recognize the word Lucius had screamed moments earlier…Crucio! She stared in mute shock. Watching an enlarged spider undergo the Cruciatus had been bad enough. Watching a human being suffer its excruciating agony was unfathomable. She began screaming, “No! Stop it! Stop it!”
Lucius stared at her in shock at her outburst. His silence did not last long, however. “You would have me spare this miserable wretch of a wizard?” He seemed genuinely perplexed. “After all he’s done to you, your friends…your parents.” He watched anxiously for those words to register.

Hermione looked at Lucius, then Draco, who still writhed on the floor. She said nothing as the reality of his words washed over her, though her face went blank.

“You should be honored, Hermione! Your filthy Muggle parents were his first kills.” He turned to Draco, who lay moaning on the floor. “She pities you, Draco! The little Mudblood actually wants me to stop hurting you.” He laughed. “She’s proud of what you’ve done! She must love you!”

Draco sat up, a dazed look on his face, as his gaze jerked between his beloved father and the hated girl. He stood uneasily, and approached the bed. He looked down at Hermione. “Do you love me?” He whispered. He seemed utterly out of his mind. Behind him, he could hear Lucius egging him on.

“Draco, please!” Hermione pleaded.

He showed no sign he even recognized her. His eyes had gone distant as if his consciousness had deserted his body. He began to tear at his clothes. His erection sprang free and his hands moved to push her legs apart. He lowered himself onto her, deaf to her cries. He moved to guide himself into her, but by chance caught her eyes as he did so. A shred, a tiny sliver, of compassion took hold in his mind and demanded to be heard.

The two gazed into each others eyes for several long seconds. Hermione was silent. Draco whispered, “Help me.”

Before Hermione could respond, she heard Lucius say “Imperio!” In an instant, Draco’s eyes rolled up into his head and he thrust himself into her. Hermione screamed again, grasping the sheets with both hands. Draco continued to pound into her with methodical, almost robotic-like, thrusts. Lucius laughed loudly, though the laughs seemed very distant. Within moments, it was over. He collapsed onto her, breathing heavily. Lucius stepped back and lowered his wand. Hermione continued to grasp the sheets balled into her hands.

Gradually, Draco became aware of his surroundings. He lifted himself up, caught Hermione’s gaze and looked at her quizzically. He realized he was still inside her and quickly backed away, losing his balance as he did so and falling onto his arse, his trousers still bunched around his knees. Hermione had not moved. Her legs were still splayed wide open across the bed and Draco could see the copious amounts of blood pooled there. He glanced down at himself and uttered a small shriek at seeing his blood-splattered penis and legs. He hurriedly pulled his trousers up and struggled to his feet. He looked once at Hermione, a blank expression on his face; though his eyes held an almost sorrowful look. When he looked back at his father, something inside him snapped. He began to laugh insanely. For a few moments, Lucius joined his laughter, but when he took a step forward towards his son, Draco abruptly ran to the door and once outside it, apparated.

Lucius followed close behind, but failed to reach him in time. He scowled darkly, and then slowly walked back into the room. He approached Hermione. “You will suffer like no other.” Without using his wand, he spoke an incantation and Hermione found herself pinned to the wall. Iron clamps appeared and pressed painfully into her wrists and ankles, pinning her to the wall. Lucius now had his wand in hand. All the furniture in the room disappeared. The room became of stone, cold and damp. She heard him speak and instantly more cuts appeared on her face. Just as suddenly, they stopped. She forced herself to open her eyes. Lucius stood before her with a long dagger in his hand, holding it mere inches from her face. “I think it would be infinitely more satisfying to hurt you manually.” He dragged the blade across a cheek, held it briefly to her neck as he whispered, “You’d welcome death now, wouldn’t you? Not yet, Hermione. I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer first. What shall it be? I told you once I was a reasonable man. I’m giving you a choice! Starvation? Dehydration? Hypothermia? Slowly bleeding to death? So many choices!” He held her gaze, but then dragged the tip of the blade across her abdomen, leaving a long trail of blood spilling out of the long and ugly wound that opened. He lifted the dripping knife and smeared her blood across her face, causing a few minor cuts as he did so. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, then headed for the door. “Oh, and one more thing, Hermione...” He made an exaggerated show of swishing his wand, which caused the excrement-filled bucket to disappear. “You can thank me later.” He left her alone. When the door closed, the room went totally dark.

She had long since lost all sense of the passage of time. Her entire body hurt. There were countless cuts all over her, some small others more significant like the one that made her feel as if her belly had been sliced open. Her wrists and ankles quickly became sore under the weight of holding her body up. The heavy iron cut into her skin and the stone behind her scratched every surface it touched. The area between her legs burned in pain, all the more so when she’d unexpectedly emptied her bladder or rectum, she couldn’t tell from which orifice it had poured. She knew only that the painful burning had become noticeably worse afterwards. She began to gag. She tried to stretch her head forward, but the vomitus dribbled down her chest. An odd thought popped into her mind just then… ‘I hope none of the cuts get infected. They really should be cleaned.’ She leaned her head back against the unyielding wall. She knew not whether her eyes were open or closed. It made no difference. She was beyond tears.

Each time Lucius returned to her, he announced his presence with a harsh slap to her face or a sharp stinging pain to her breasts. The darkness was absolute and always there. She could no longer stare at her tormentor as he tortured her. Her mouth had gone dry and tasted of sour blood. Her lips felt cracked. She had felt as if she were drowning when unexpectedly a large amount of water poured over her face. Water had never tasted so good, though she had probably managed to get only a few drops into her mouth. Lucius continued to mock her from the darkness. At first, she’d tried to follow his voice, but as she grew weaker and the darkness played tricks with her mind even when Lucius was not present, she gradually stopped responding to him. It was then he’d placed another band around her, this time around her neck. The band would tighten, cutting off her oxygen until she felt as if she would pass out. She believed she had passed out a few times. Perhaps, she’d dreamed it. Maybe it was all a dream and she’d wake up back at Grimmauld Place, safe and sound. She held that thought deep within, fiercely guarding it as if it were the most important piece of information in the world. At other times, she prayed that Lucius would go too far and strangle her to death or drown her or anything, as long as this nightmare would end. She no longer knew what was real or a dream.