Invasion

Invasion

She could not believe what was happening to her quiet village. Her farm was destroyed; her parents were dead and her memories all squashed. She hid in a barn on the outskirts of her farm. Thankfully the invaders hadn’t managed to get this far. She panted at the back of the barn. She was pressing a knife against her bosom.

She looked at the knife and closed her eyes. The point was against her heart.

“Let Aphrodite forgive me for this sin.”

She was about to plunge the knife in her heart when she heard a creaking behind her. She turned around and threw the knife at the invisible target. She heard a scream and was about to make a run for it when she was grabbed from behind. She felt metal on her back. She was pressed against the breastplate of a Roman soldier. She was about to turn and push him so that she could run away but his hands gripped her tightly and he picked her up. Her legs thrashed wildly about her.

“We’ve got ourselves a frightened little rabbit,” the soldier sneered.

She looked at him. She narrowed her eyes. He laughed. She was about to kick him in the shin and step on his foot. His companion came out of the barn holding onto his face.

“Where is she?” he ordered.

“Here she is, she’s quite the spirited devil isn’t she?”

“Let me go!” she exclaimed.

“No,” her captor said. “We’re going to take you to our employer, and just so you can’t hurt us -,” he took hold of her wrists and tore her dress off her. The officer’s licked their lips at her naked body. “These foreigners certainly know how to make their women.”

She wriggled and squirmed as they used the fragments of her robes to tie her up. They tied her wrists first, then her legs and just to make sure they gagged her. They looked at each other.

“Do you think he’s going to like it?” one said. “Wasn’t she the daughter of the previous owner?”

“She’s scum,” the other replied. “All foreigners are. Especially the women! Look at what that bitch did to me?”

He took his hand away and blood poured out of his cheek. Her eyes smiled with triumph. She had injured him at least.

“How did she do that?”

“She just threw a knife at me, the bitch!”

“Go to the physician then, I have to take her!”

She slumped her shoulders and they went their different directions. He led her to what used to be her home, but was now conquered territory. Her eyes welled up with tears at the destruction about her. She hated Romans with every fibre of her being and wanted to kill every one of them single-handed. Now she was being led like she was some prize cow to the altar.

“Sir!” her captor said clicking his heels together.

“What is it?” a voice drawled. She looked up. This Roman was different. He had blond hair for a start. She wasn’t that shocked by the blue eyes. She had seen Romans with blue eyes before.

“It’s the daughter, sir. The one you saw running off!”

“Ah, yes, thank you Sergeant. Leave her here. I will think of something to do with her soon.”

“She almost sliced your son’s face off, sir! Do you wish to avenge this insult?”

“No thank you, Vincente,” the older man said. He roved his eyes up and down her body. “Not in the usual way, anyway.”

He clicked his fingers and Vincente disappeared. He walked around her body and arched an eyebrow. She held her breath, she had no choice really, and she kept still. When he had circled her twice he stepped closer to her. He reached around the back of her head and was about to free her mouth so she could speak.

“Now you promise not to bite if I free your mouth?” he asked.

She nodded her head. She wouldn’t bite him – yet. He took hold of the fabric and untied the knot and threw it to the ground.

“Bastard!” she spat.

He wiped the spit away from his face and sighed. “Oh, come now, I think you can admit that your country was failing.”

“I hate you!” she said.

“I bet you don’t even know my name?” the man said.

She was wriggling her hands out of her bonds. He noticed and held her wrists in his hands. “I don’t want to know!”

“Pity,” he murmured. “I wish to know yours.”

She raised her eyes and looked up at him through her lashes. “Why?” she asked.

“How can we be friends otherwise?” he smiled. But she noticed it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You have no more desire to be friends with me than you do of drinking your own urine!” she exclaimed.

He laughed silently. She could see his chest moving beneath his gold breastplate. The red cloak was swung over his shoulder and it leant an extra air to the Invaders arrogance.

“Very comical,” he said. “Now, please, little one. I wish to know your name.”

She sighed. “Hermione,” she said. “My name’s Hermione.”

He tucked a coil of her golden brown hair behind her ear. “That wasn’t so difficult was it?” He leant down and whispered. “My name is Lucius. I am pleased to meet you.”

Hermione lowered her eyes. He was the enemy. He had just taken over her home and squashed her life to dust. Why was he rubbing salt into her aching wounds?

“I wish I could say likewise,” she muttered. He heard and the ever present smile still adorned his perfect face.

“You may think differently,” he said. “You know the land. I wish to make full use of it. You would be useful to me to know how I can make the best use of it. Plus you could be spoils!”

“I would rather die!” she said passionately.

“Hmm, we’ll see.”

He decided to see how far he could go before she would bite him. He took her wrists and hooked them over his head and leant down and kissed her full on the mouth. She would have kicked him but she couldn’t. She supposed that it was his support that kept her standing up.

“Such a sweet mouth for a tongue that has spoken such sour things,” he said. “And why would you rather die? I am giving you an opportunity to live on the land that you love so.”

“As a slave!”

“That is the way life goes, my dear, you best get used to it.”

He unhooked her arms from around his neck and stepped away. She fell down on the ground. He clicked his fingers again and looked at the two that had joined him.

“Carry her over to my tent,” he said. “And brand her with my name. She is my property now.”

They did as asked. “Why does he get all the good ‘uns?” one said.

“It’s not fair, brother, I know but that is the way it is. He is the one that is in charge therefore has first say on all the spoils.”

Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She had never felt more insulted in her entire life. Spoils? She was a person for Aphrodite’s sake! Once they reached his big tent they flung her on a fur rug and one went away and the other stayed. He tied her up to the leg of a chair. He sat on the chair with his head tilted sideways and was contemplating taking her and telling nobody about it but he did that once before and his Commanding Officer punished him. He was surprised he still had his manhood in tact. He just had to be content with looking at her luscious form.

The other one came back with a big brute of a man yielding a fire iron. “This ‘er?” he asked.

“Yes, this is her,” the first one said.

He knelt down beside her and took her right arm and placed the burning hot branding iron on her skin. She screamed with pain. She turned around and bit the brutish man on the shoulder. He screamed to. He slapped her in the face when he finished branding her skin.

“Why he wants you I can’t imagine, you viper!”

Hermione’s lower lip pouted and her front teeth were stained with the blood of the man.

“Well, perhaps it is because she is so spirited.”

The brutish man turned around and he paled as he beheld his master.

“Sorry, sir,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean… I was only…”

“Not using your brain as usual. Never mind, I hear the Lions are particularly ravenous this season.”

“What?”

“Nothing gives you the right to touch what is mine,” Lucius said. “Your punishment shall be the lions in the circus.”

“Master, please? She bit me! What was I supposed to do?”

“Take it like a man, you are a man, aren’t you?” Lucius sneered.

Hermione would have felt sorry for the brute but her home had just been invaded and she had no freedom of her own. She watched as Brute was carried off. She assumed it was to a cell. Lucius turned towards her and licked his lips.

“That’s horrible!” she exclaimed.

“Why are you defending him?” he asked. He walked up to her and knelt down. He examined her arm and smirked. “My name adorns you so perfectly.”

Hermione wished to shrug him off but he had every right to touch her now, damn him!

“Why should I care about that? It is the mark of Slavery. I do not see it as a pretty thing,” she said.

“I saw what you did to my son,” he said. He changed the subject and got up. He sat down on the chair. He took his helmet off and lounged. He looked at her all tied up to the chair leg on his fur rug. “How did you learn to throw like that?”

“I had to,” she answered. “I have the hunter’s spirit.”

“You certainly do have the hunter’s attitude. You don’t like being the prey do you?” She turned around and tried to nibble through her bonds. Lucius rolled his eyes. “Please don’t do that, apart from that mark on your arm I wish you to be fairly untainted from burns, sores, and marks. I am sure you understand that.”

Hermione looked into his eyes. “I don’t care about you. I am trying to wriggle free to escape!”

“And how will you manage that? Besides, any Roman within fifty miles that see’s that brand on your arm will bring you straight back to me! I am afraid that unless you wish to be lion food your best bet is to stay here.”

She stopped wriggling. She had said she’d rather die but she would rather die by a knife in the heart in the woods than to be slowly gored to death in front of millions.

“It looks like I have no choice,” she said.

“Good,” he purred. “Now, lets talk about your duties.”

***

She was now wearing the clothes of a Roman woman. She pressed the robes of her owner. She wished she could shred the cloak with her bare hands but she winced when she remembered the punishment she received when she tried to escape. Her legs were now in chains. She could just about move and she shuffled dejectedly around the tent.

A tear escaped her eye and dropped on the cloak. She finished flattening the cloak and began folding it up. She then glared at the pile of armour that needed to be polished and buffed. She laid the cloak on top of the wooden chest he termed an ottoman and then picked up the beeswax polish.

“Remember, my sweet,” she looked up and he was standing in the open tent. “I wish for it to be buffed up so that I can see my reflection clearly in the breastplate.”

Hermione wanted to fling the horrible thing at him but kept her temper. She didn’t understand why he just didn’t kill her on the spot. Many of the Officer’s said that they would have done.

“Yes, sir,” she sighed.

“Oh please smile,” Lucius said. “I am sure you are beautiful when you smile.”

“Why should you care whether I am beautiful or not?”

“Because you are a reflection of me. If you are happy and beautiful then that is a compliment to me.”

“Then I’ll be miserable and ugly.”

He scowled a little. He strode up to her and picked her up by his hands and shook her harshly. “Many would have killed you by now, you ungrateful bitch, you have been my slave for two weeks now and have I been that bad to you in that time?”

Apart from the punishment she had for escaping she conceded that he had not treated her harshly. “But you must understand, sir, that I have lost my entire way of life, and my family. I cannot smile when I think of my mother!”

Lucius tilted his head to one side and leant down and placed his lips on hers. He massaged them slightly until her mouth parted. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and kissed her. She tried so hard not to respond to his attentive mouth but she could not help but moan as his talented tongue worked its way around her mouth.

“I am sure your mother would wish you to be happy in whichever capacity is open to you,” he said. “I also wish to make you happy.”

Hermione lowered her eyes and licked her lips. “But why enslave me?”

“It would look odd to my friends if you paraded yourself around as an equal,” he said. “Besides you are not an equal. But I am prepared to be as hospitable and kind to you as possible. It would help if you co operated a bit more, my sweet Venus.”

Hermione scowled at the Roman affectation of the name of her favoured Goddess.

“But why, sir?” she sighed.
Lucius tucked aside a coil of her golden brown hair and smiled. “I have been in Greece for a very long time, and I have never yet seen a Grecian so beautiful, and so spirited. You are a challenge I must say.”

He looked down at his name on her arm and stroked it causing her arm to tingle and shudder. “Don’t do that!”

He smirked. “I can do what I please with you, remember.”

***

Centuries later another Hermione was back at the farm. She dropped the parchments on the floor. That was strange. She had decided to come to Greece. It was the home of her ancestors. She wanted to see if she could find anything out about her family. She had paid a woman a lot of money to dig up research. It turned out that the woman had dug out several scrolls of parchment dating back centuries to the time when Greeks still worshipped their Gods.

“Everything okay, Miss Granger?” the pretty Greek woman asked.

“Everything’s fine, Anthea,” Hermione said. “Are you sure these scrolls are talking about my family?”

“Yes, from everything you have told me it has led to this information. Why?”

“Well,” Hermione said. “I guess I best read more of these.”

“It’s actually quite satisfying to find a young woman that can read ancient Latin.”

Hermione beamed. “It has a pattern like any language.”

“You know, you are not the only one that asked me to find information about their links to this village.”

Hermione looked up and arched an eyebrow. “Really, who else is interested?”

Anthea looked at her watch. “He should be here any minute now.” She sighed. “It’s actually strange to find documents like this. It’s more sort of a diary.”

“For which I am thankful for, I can tell you,” she replied. “It makes it more real.”
“You know, that’s what he said when he read that entry.”

Hermione smiled. She wondered whom it was she possibly had a connection to. She had a small fantasy of it being a dark haired, Greek man who had a sultry voice and an Adonis body. She shook her head and leant down and began to read the next entry. There was a smart rap on the door, and Anthea scuttled off to open the door.

“Ah, hello, I had begun to despair, you are not alone. A young lady had an interest in her heritage to.”

“I am always satisfied to meet someone who is interested in her family’s heritage. Heritage is important to me of course.”

Hermione’s ears pricked up and the colour drained from her face. “No,” she whispered. “Please, Merlin, no!”

Anthea led the man into the room and it was just as Hermione feared. “Miss Granger, this is Mr Malefoy.”

“It’s Mal Foy,” Lucius said. “And we already know each other, don’t we, Hermione?”

“Yes, Mr Malfoy and I go way back.”

“Oh,” Anthea said. “Well, I will get you two a cup of coffee and leave you to it.”

Hermione bristled. “Thank you, Anthea. But I’ll be leaving now. I want to enjoy the sunshine.”

She looked at what Lucius was wearing. Even disguised as a Muggle he was still arrogant. “I am sure that we can sit and read quietly, Miss Granger.”

Hermione lowered her eyes. “It is all right, Anthea, I’ll be back tomorrow. I promised my friends some presents and I haven’t done a bit of shopping.”

She walked around the table and looked in Lucius’ eyes. She didn’t know what prompted her to do it but as she said goodbye to him she curtsied. He bowed stiffly. Hermione walked away from him; and Anthea showed her the way.

“By the way,” Anthea whispered. “Isn’t he gorgeous!”

“If you like that sort of thing,” Hermione said stiffly.

Anthea giggled. “I do,” she replied. “How do you know him?”

Hermione chewed the lower of her lip. She just shrugged her shoulders. “His son and I went to the same school. He was the school governor so I got to see a lot of him.”

Anthea nodded her head. “I see.”

Hermione kissed Anthea on the cheek and walked out of the house. She made her way down the hill and found a tree to slump against. How could she be related to him of all people? She looked up at the sun and sighed. She huddled her knees to her chest and bowed her head. It seemed that the hatred between her family and his was centuries old. She sat there for what seemed like hours before she decided to get up and dust herself down. She needed to get to somewhere cool as the heat was beginning to get to her.

“May I be of assistance to you, Miss Granger?” she heard his cool silken voice behind her.

“Well, there is no reason why we shouldn’t walk down this hill together is there?”

“Certainly not,” Lucius said. “It’s quite interesting isn’t it?”

“And how do you feel now you know there is a connection between us?” she snapped out.

He sighed. “I was as shocked as you are now, but now I come to think about it, it does make a small bit of sense.”

Hermione looked at him and shook her head. “How long have you known.”

“A week,” he answered. They wended their way down the hill with the Greek sunset going down behind them.

Lucius was thrilled of the fact that there was a connection between them. He had wanted to get one up on the Weasley’s for a long time; and now he had an opportunity. When they had reached the village Hermione pointed out to where she was staying. He walked her to the door. Once they had reached the porch she turned to him.

“So, how much longer are you staying for?” Hermione asked him.

“As long as it takes to put the pieces together,” Lucius answered. “You?”

“Same,” she said.

“Are you really staying here?” he asked.

Hermione frowned. “Well, it is all I can afford.”

“Well, I have a nice resort house with a swimming pool. You’re welcome to change your mind.”

“Thank you, I am happy where I am at the moment.”

Lucius sighed. “If this is about that night...”

Hermione shook her head. She hadn’t even thought about that night. “No, it isn’t. I have to go in now.”

She pushed the door open and walked up the stairs and let herself in her square room. She walked to the window and watched as Lucius apparated away. Oh gods, as if she didn’t have enough memories of the man without dredging up that one drunken night again. She sat on her bed and groaned.

“Why him?”

A/N - I couldn't resist writing a story where I took Lucius and Hermione's names in their original context. I hope you all like this one.