The Robber Bridegroom
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
8,320
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
8,320
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.
Web
Title: Web
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, Angst
Summary: #18 – Web. ‘Cry for someone, something, I'll laugh at you.’ ‘Slave’ by Gary Numan.
Word Count: 875 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
#18 – Web
Like a fly caught in an inescapable web, Hermione was trapped.
Her Master was not gentle the first time, and Hermione hid the bruises under new gowns of black taffeta that covered her body from neck to ankle. The dresses hid all the unattractive scars as well; testament to what her body had been through in the last four years. Her Master found the marks distasteful.
However, after the first time, Hermione was allowed to call him Lucius.
“Potter is amassing a force in Ireland, one that could easily take over the Dark Lord’s Guards and army. It is only a matter of time until it happens, and you will be sure that I will be on the ‘right’ side this time,” he had whispered to her as he left their bed, the bedding damp with sweat and come. Hermione barely listened, her body aching from bone to sinew.
She had watched him go into the lavatory and disappear to wash himself of her, emerging in fine regalia, with his hair combed of tangles down the length of his back. He did not spare a glance at her as he left the room in the dim hours of the morning. Hermione would not see him again for two weeks.
In that time, Hermione began planning of her own. Surely, Viktor would have informed Harry that she was alive in Malfoy Manor.
What of Lucius? Was he in contact with Harry? Was Lucius working sub rosa all this time?
A web of lies surrounded her.
Sitting in a window seat in one of the disused parlours on the first floor, Aniel found her reading in the wintry sunlight, at late day.
“The Master requests your presence, we have guests.”
Lucius’ parlour played host to the same five men that had murdered the man whose lock of hair she touched in her pocket as she entered the room. This time, however, there was no bound captive, but the five were sitting around the bloodstained table, eating their fill of meat from a central platter. Lucius stood at the head, behind an empty chair.
At her entrance, all eyes were upon her, but she immediately took her place, kneeling at Lucius’ left leg.
“So you see, gentleman, Miss Granger is alive and well…trained and obedient,” Lucius drawled. His fingers fell to her hair, which he pet lovingly. “And Potter knows she is here as my possession.”
Dolohov, whose face Hermione would never forget, leered at her. He was the closest to her and reached out to touch her face with greasy fingers.
“No touching, Anton, this witch is mine.”
The ice in Lucius’ voice chilled the room, and Hermione let her fingers grasp the back of his trouser leg, unseen by the other guests. She feared the five men. Their lecherous eyes kept her pinned.
“How does she taste?” one of the Lestrange brothers asked with a hiss, licking his lips with an unusually long tongue.
“Dirty, as one might expect for such a low born creature,” Lucius answered.
“And you will keep her alive?” the other brother asked, Rodolphus, she remembered.
“Naturally. Despite what you might think, I will breed her.”
A sound of disgust found her ears. Lucius chuckled.
“Have any of your wives given you an heir fitting to serve the Dark Lord?” he asked rhetorically.
Hermione knew that Crabbe and Goyle Jr. had died early in the War. Lucius had an heir, but Hermione had heard nothing of Draco since before she was captured.
“Breed heirs for the Cause, that was one of our Lord’s commandments…” Lucius seemed to sing triumphantly. “This witch will bear many loyal servants.”
Hermione’s fingers gripped Lucius’ trouser leg tighter, but he paid no mind to the touch.
He sat down at the table and Hermione was pulled along. As an act of possession, he pressed her head to his thigh as all eyes watched.
“She’s prettier than the last…is that why you haven’t killed her?” either Crabbe or Goyle asked, Hermione could not tell the difference between the two.
Lucius smirked. “If you remember, correctly, old friend, it was you and Anton who killed the last ‘reward.’ Poor Miss Brown, she was a bit gamy for your refined tastes…”
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, letting her anger wash through her and disappear.
“Ah, but your Miss Patil was quite good,” one of the Lestranges said with a smack of the lips.
“I will have to take your word for it Rabastan, I doubt I will ever acquire the taste.”
She felt ill, and no amount of holding to the chair leg would keep her head for spinning. Slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth and vomited into her mouth. Swallowing quickly, she let her hand fall to her tightly corseted waist, hoping none of the guests noticed.
She was caught in a web of murder and perversity. The man whose left hand curled a lock of her hair about his forefinger had declared his intentions, and Hermione knew all she could do was try to survive. Soon, the elastic strands of the web would snap, and she would have a justice and satisfaction of her own.
Hermione vowed to kill every man in the room.
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, Angst
Summary: #18 – Web. ‘Cry for someone, something, I'll laugh at you.’ ‘Slave’ by Gary Numan.
Word Count: 875 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
#18 – Web
Like a fly caught in an inescapable web, Hermione was trapped.
Her Master was not gentle the first time, and Hermione hid the bruises under new gowns of black taffeta that covered her body from neck to ankle. The dresses hid all the unattractive scars as well; testament to what her body had been through in the last four years. Her Master found the marks distasteful.
However, after the first time, Hermione was allowed to call him Lucius.
“Potter is amassing a force in Ireland, one that could easily take over the Dark Lord’s Guards and army. It is only a matter of time until it happens, and you will be sure that I will be on the ‘right’ side this time,” he had whispered to her as he left their bed, the bedding damp with sweat and come. Hermione barely listened, her body aching from bone to sinew.
She had watched him go into the lavatory and disappear to wash himself of her, emerging in fine regalia, with his hair combed of tangles down the length of his back. He did not spare a glance at her as he left the room in the dim hours of the morning. Hermione would not see him again for two weeks.
In that time, Hermione began planning of her own. Surely, Viktor would have informed Harry that she was alive in Malfoy Manor.
What of Lucius? Was he in contact with Harry? Was Lucius working sub rosa all this time?
A web of lies surrounded her.
Sitting in a window seat in one of the disused parlours on the first floor, Aniel found her reading in the wintry sunlight, at late day.
“The Master requests your presence, we have guests.”
Lucius’ parlour played host to the same five men that had murdered the man whose lock of hair she touched in her pocket as she entered the room. This time, however, there was no bound captive, but the five were sitting around the bloodstained table, eating their fill of meat from a central platter. Lucius stood at the head, behind an empty chair.
At her entrance, all eyes were upon her, but she immediately took her place, kneeling at Lucius’ left leg.
“So you see, gentleman, Miss Granger is alive and well…trained and obedient,” Lucius drawled. His fingers fell to her hair, which he pet lovingly. “And Potter knows she is here as my possession.”
Dolohov, whose face Hermione would never forget, leered at her. He was the closest to her and reached out to touch her face with greasy fingers.
“No touching, Anton, this witch is mine.”
The ice in Lucius’ voice chilled the room, and Hermione let her fingers grasp the back of his trouser leg, unseen by the other guests. She feared the five men. Their lecherous eyes kept her pinned.
“How does she taste?” one of the Lestrange brothers asked with a hiss, licking his lips with an unusually long tongue.
“Dirty, as one might expect for such a low born creature,” Lucius answered.
“And you will keep her alive?” the other brother asked, Rodolphus, she remembered.
“Naturally. Despite what you might think, I will breed her.”
A sound of disgust found her ears. Lucius chuckled.
“Have any of your wives given you an heir fitting to serve the Dark Lord?” he asked rhetorically.
Hermione knew that Crabbe and Goyle Jr. had died early in the War. Lucius had an heir, but Hermione had heard nothing of Draco since before she was captured.
“Breed heirs for the Cause, that was one of our Lord’s commandments…” Lucius seemed to sing triumphantly. “This witch will bear many loyal servants.”
Hermione’s fingers gripped Lucius’ trouser leg tighter, but he paid no mind to the touch.
He sat down at the table and Hermione was pulled along. As an act of possession, he pressed her head to his thigh as all eyes watched.
“She’s prettier than the last…is that why you haven’t killed her?” either Crabbe or Goyle asked, Hermione could not tell the difference between the two.
Lucius smirked. “If you remember, correctly, old friend, it was you and Anton who killed the last ‘reward.’ Poor Miss Brown, she was a bit gamy for your refined tastes…”
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, letting her anger wash through her and disappear.
“Ah, but your Miss Patil was quite good,” one of the Lestranges said with a smack of the lips.
“I will have to take your word for it Rabastan, I doubt I will ever acquire the taste.”
She felt ill, and no amount of holding to the chair leg would keep her head for spinning. Slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth and vomited into her mouth. Swallowing quickly, she let her hand fall to her tightly corseted waist, hoping none of the guests noticed.
She was caught in a web of murder and perversity. The man whose left hand curled a lock of her hair about his forefinger had declared his intentions, and Hermione knew all she could do was try to survive. Soon, the elastic strands of the web would snap, and she would have a justice and satisfaction of her own.
Hermione vowed to kill every man in the room.