Vacivitas

Chapter Thirteen

Trigger warnings: graphic crucio torture

Chapter Thirteen

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Lucius comes toward her, his cane loud against each step the closer he draws. He's wearing his black Death Eater robes, but he doesn't look like he's in any hurry to go anywhere. His gaze is accusatory and judgmental as it scours her body, as though looking for the reason on her physical form. When he reaches the landing, she sees that he's almost as tall as his son, but not quite.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he says. "Care to explain how you came to be in my home?"

Hermione blinks herself out of her panicked reverie. Malfoy's always mad at her. She'll just have to add this one to the list. She draws her shoulders back and stands up straight, leveling him a defiant gaze.

"No," she says, tone clipped. "I do not."

The corners of Lucius' lips twitch upward into a smirk before his gaze sweeps over her again. "I see he's dressing you up in Pureblood finery."

"Pinky's the one who filled my wardrobe. If that bothers you, then you'll have to take it up with her."

Lucius narrows his eyes, but Hermione doesn't back down. She never does.

"Where have you been, Miss Granger? Surely you know the Dark Lord has been especially interested in your whereabouts."

"I'm sure he has been."

"And I'm sure you know my son risks his life keeping you here."

"I'm aware."

"And you're aware that with one press of my wand, I can call the Dark Lord here to see what's waiting for him...Correct?"

"Go ahead."

"You have quite the tongue, Miss Granger. It's clear my son has yet to teach you your place."

"Oh, he tries," Hermione says, because she can't resist. She's always hated this man. "He fails."

Something akin to pure hatred flashes across Lucius' face, then fades back into quiet amusement. "What shall we do with you?"

Don't say it, Hermione. Don't say it.

"Your son does plenty with me," she says. "Nothing you're invited to."

Merlin damn it all, Hermione.

Lucius stares at her for the breadth of one heartbeat, then two, and on the third heartbeat, the rage returns in full swing. He lifts his black cane and, before Hermione can blink, strikes her across the face with it. The pain rocks through her skull, making her see spots in one eye. She lets out a cry of pain as she stumbles backward, clutching her cheek with one hand. She looks up at Lucius in shock.

"Perhaps I'll have to speak to my son. If he insists on making messes, then he'll have to be told how to properly clean up his toys. Now, tell me what I want to know. How did you come to be in my house?"

She can't tell him. Malfoy told her—nobody besides she and Blaise knows he's a vampire. If Malfoy can't even preemptively trust his father to keep his vampirism a secret, how likely is it that he'll keep Hermione's procurement a secret?

Why isn't he here?

"How did you come to be in my house?!"

He doesn't give her a chance to respond. He hits her again, this time on the shoulder. The force of it twists her body, where she's then struck across the back. She collapses to the ground on her knees, trying to cover her face with her arms as he hits her again and again, with all the strength he has in his body. Like he's punishing her in the place of every Muggleborn in the world. She's scared he's going to—