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Reddition: NC-17, Hermione/Narcissa
Title: Reddition
Author: SilveredSins
Pairing: Hermione/Narcissa, Hermione/Lucius (non-con)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: I’ll post specific warnings by chapter.
Disclaimer: I am not the immensely fabulous J.K. Rowling, just a member of her non-money-making cult.
Summary: A surprise attack on Hogwarts kills Dumbledore, and cripples the Light. All those who can, escape, waiting for a chance to strike from the shadows. But one of the Trio wasn’t lucky enough to get away…
Length: 1,185 words

Chapter One: Ashes of Yesterday

"This is the bitterest pain among men, to have much knowledge but no power."
~ Herodotus



Warnings: Language, mentions of character death and rape.


The wooden wheels of the Malfoy carriage clattered against the stone cobblestones of the road before rumbling to its stop in front of the Ministry of Magic. The recently crowned Minister Lucius Malfoy smiled as his assistant opened the door for him, wincing as she took a step back from him.

He tossed his snake-headed cane to the girl who caught it dexterously in one hand. “Close the door,” Lucius hissed, and while she complied, the young witch shot him a death glare she probably thought he hadn’t seen.

“Do that again, bitch, and I’ll disfigure that pretty face of yours.” Lucius Malfoy did not brook resistance. The girl bit her lip to hold back a remark, and schooled her face to be pleasantly neutral. But her expression didn’t hide the chilled rage in her eyes.

“Is there anything else you wish, sir?” Her voice was almost a growl.

“Miss Granger, let me put it simply-” Lucius whirled around and knocked his fist into the side of Hermione’s head, knocking her to the ground with a pained yelp. “Obey me, or you will be punished. If any of your little friends are still alive, they’ll see you crucified on the front page of the Prophet like the martyr you disgusting Gryffindors make yourselves out to be.”

Hermione fought past the blinding pain in her skull. His blow had been quite accurate, striking her right in the temple. She felt the snow soaking into her pants, and stood shakily, fighting the urge to throw up over Lucius’ polished boots. She still had the cane clutched tight in her hand. If he would turn around, she could…no. He had too many guards and protection. Lucius wouldn’t have given her the cane if he thought she would use it against him.

The elder Malfoy purred with delight as the girl looked at him, agony bringing tears to the corners of her eyes. “Good girl. Now let’s get going, I have a meeting to attend. It seems our Dark Lord may have found the last of your friends.”

Terror shot through Hermione’s blood like a toxin. She nodded mutely, and followed Lucius into the building, all the while thinking of everyone she’d lost in this useless battle.

Harry and Ron were supposedly dead, according to a smug Lucius, but she doubted that since the bastard had never shown her the bodies to gloat and cause her even more pain than she was already suffering. She’d seen Dumbledore fall, as well as every Professor with the exception of Snape. His treachery had been revealed and he now spent his time at the bottom of an oubliette, basically a hole in the ground with a grate on top. They had snapped his wand and tortured him until he was a gibbering moron. He would never be able to help her escape this.

Ginny, her darling Ginny, the one girl she’d trusted and fallen in love with in her 6th year, died in her arms. Draco Malfoy had killed her. But she had killed Draco Malfoy. She admitted to herself, after weeks of nightmares about it, that she had indeed taken a sadistic pleasure in taking his life. Lucius was supposedly unaware who had killed his son, but sometimes she caught him staring at her with barely contained hate in his grey eyes, challenging her to tell the truth.

So many others had died that day, or soon after, tortured until death for information about the light. No one had said a word. Hermione knew for a fact that Bellatrix Lestrange had specifically requested for Neville as a victim, and shuddered, unable to imagine some of the torments she had put the poor boy through.

Almost all of Gryffindor House had been killed, but the lessons they had learned in the D.A. had made them the last to fall. Only a handful of Slytherins had been killed, mostly first years that were too squeamish to recognize their ‘destiny’ as a servant of Lord Voldemort. Only Blaise had stood up and fought against the Death Eaters. Draco had been quick to stab his once best friend in the back with a dagger, calling the boy a disgrace to everything pureblood.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had been completely slaughtered, their blood painting the Great Hall an unnerving shade of dark crimson. It reminded her of the books she had read about Aztec Wizards and the temples where they had sacrificed thousands of victims, coating the stone steps with inches of dried blood.

A sharp pain in her throat brought her back to reality as she realized Lucius had been talking and she had completely ignored him. His gloved hand was squeezing her neck slowly and Hermione started to choke as she gasped for breath. He dropped her to the ground, coughing up blood. She looked up at him, a drop of red trailing down her chin, and felt herself impaled by Lucius’ eyes.

“Clean yourself up, Mudblood. As much as you can with that filth running through your veins.”

Hermione felt her face grow hot as she brushed the snow off her thighs; wiping the blood onto the black silk sleeve of the dress shirt he had forced her into this morning. Thoughts of the morning made an old soreness return between her legs, and she fought back more tears.

The son of a bitch never touched her. He always wore gloves, and fucked her with his cane or wand or whatever was around. It’s as if he thought by touching her pale flesh, he’d be irreversibly corrupted. The image of him with her virgin blood on the tips of his gloves was permanently branded into her mind. He’d made her suck it from his fingers and laughed when she spat it back at him.

Lucius had beaten her almost to death that night, tied to his bed like an offering to some ancient god of violation. Knowing him, Lucius probably thought he was the god she thought of. Arrogant prick.

She followed Lucius through the Ministry doors, and swore under her breath. With that last fall, she had severely pulled a muscle, and without a wand, had no way of making it feel better. Hermione limped behind Lucius, wanting to tear that white fur cloak from him and choke the perverted sociopath with it. Then she’d wear it. While she used to be quite against the death of animals for their skins, at this point she really just didn’t give a damn. It was a beautiful thing.

Men and women bowed their heads and tipped their hats to Lucius as he walked through the halls, the sound of his boots hitting the marble floor echoing in her ears. Hermione saw Narcissa Malfoy step out of the lift and shivered. Being in the older witch’s presence was one of the few things that kept Hermione sane.

It was a pleasure to watch Narcissa live her life. Every graceful movement and each silken word. She was a true beauty, ancient and cold, like a goddess from some fairy tale. Narcissa gave her the only kindness Hermione had felt since she was captured.

When Lucius had seen Hermione’s tattoo of a hippogriff on her shoulder, something about it had seriously pissed him off. He had grabbed a blade and tried to carve it out of her skin. She guessed her desperate screams had brought Narcissa in the room, who grabbed the blade from her husband and told him he was doing it wrong. Rolling his eyes, Lucius had left the room.

Narcissa had held Hermione as she sobbed in pain, and dropped the knife, casting a healing spell to fix the damage Lucius had caused as well as performing a glamour to hide the tattoo. In return, she let Narcissa sate her desires for touch (Hermione learned that the only time Lucius had touched her was when he was trying to get a son, and then he went off with his boy toys). With a promise to keep Hermione’s secret safe, Narcissa had bitten the girl in the shoulder, whispering words as she pulled away.

“It will lessen the agonies he will make you taste. But it will burn any time I wish to see you. Do you understand?” Hermione nodded, and Narcissa had left, her delicate hands smoothing her dress. Lucius had returned, pleased that the tattoo was gone, but annoyed that his wife had healed the wound. He had forced her down on her knees to pleasure him, but after her gagging several times decided to beat her in frustration.

There was some pain of course, but nothing to the agony from before. She made enough noise so he wouldn’t think there was a difference, but tendrils of control began forming in her mind.

As Lucius had ‘taught’ her to, Hermione fell to one knee as his wife approached, bowing her head. Little did he know that she would have done it anyways. As the two talked, Hermione blanked out on the conversation as Narcissa stroked her hair like one would pet a cat. There was a purr leaving her lips before she knew it, and she heard the older witch laugh in amusement.

Lucius was less than pleased and muttered. “No wonder she can’t do anything in bed, the little Mudblood’s a dyke.” Narcissa smiled. “Maybe you should give her a gentle touch occasionally, Lucius. She can be quite the lioness.”

Her husband widened his eyes a little. “And how would you know?” Narcissa smiled, and soothed his suspicions by saying, “I am a Legilimens, Lucius. I saw her and her red-haired girlfriend having quite the time.”

Lucius nodded, and smiled lustfully, obviously imagining himself controlling the two girls. Hermione wanted to puke but held back a smile when he said, “Then take the girl, Narcissa. I have a meeting anyways. See if you can knock a little obedience into the Mudblood.”

With a coy bow of her head, Narcissa responded. “It would be my pleasure.”

Lucius laughed and walked off to the lift, wrenching his cane from Hermione and hitting her in the ass with it as he left. Hermione held back a snarl. She stood and Narcissa pulled a collar and leash out of the bag she carried. The young witch’s eyes widened. “You knew he would-”

Narcissa smiled. “We talked about it last night. He thought you’d be scared.” She moved Hermione’s hair to the side and locked the black collar. Trailing her fingertips along the leather, she felt lions carved into the collar. Narcissa snapped her fingers, and gave a light pull on the leash, leading a dazed Hermione out of the building.

~End Chapter One~

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