Invictus

Author's Notes: I'm sorry this has taken so long. Offline life got a bit busy last month.
A few of you have asked how Invictus relates to canon. Basically – as I said at the beginning – it starts half-way through OotP Chapter 21 and is AU from then on, although some OotP events feature. That probably seems an odd thing to do, now that OotP has been out for over a year and we've thoroughly imbibed the new canon. But what is now the first twelve chapters were complete in my head pre-OotP, and in those initial months of bunny-borne writing fever the fifth year felt less familiar and more malleable. If I were starting now... yes, I suppose I could set it post-OotP. But it doesn't affect the central threads of the story, so I hope those of you who dislike AUs won't be put off. Rest assured, she won't just wake up and find it was a bad dream.
Hugs to Hijja, beta-reader extraordinaire. :-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Invictus ~
by Chthonia

Part 14: Integrity

"Lumos."

I shudder. An echo of searing white power flashes down every nerve. But that trace of the spell that almost burned me away drowns in a flood of relief – I can see.

Thank God.

Even if all that's visible are four booted feet, framed by the bed I'm hiding under.

Two of the feet – the smaller ones – move. Not nearly as gracefully as when they were ferret's paws.

"She's gone!"

Oh, I wish.

"Really, Draco? And how do you think that could have happened?"

That voice... I can't go out there. I can't. It's as if every word is dripping down into places that are private.

I can't face him.

The ferret's whine, however, I can deal with.

"So... where is she?"

Oh honestly, Malfoy. How hard can it be?

"I would have thought that to be obvious."

There's a pause, and then a muttered "Yes Father" and I see him bend down, silhouetted against the light.

I shrink back against the wall. Stupid – there's still part of me hoping he won't see me, even though I know there's no way I can hide from them, even though I know only too well that they can do anything they like to me.

He fumbles in his robes for his wand.

"Lumos."

I flinch, and cover my eyes for a moment. When I lower my hand, he's staring at me. Then his mouth relaxes into a smirk.

"Granger? What in Hades are you doing under there? Is sleeping on the bed too civilised for you?"

Oh sod off, Malfoy.

"Less of the pleasantries, Draco, if you please," his father says. "Just get her out of there so we can get on with it, will you?"

Get on with what?

Malfoy's eyes glitter in the wand-light. "You heard him, Granger. Get out of there."

I don't move. I know the blankets and the bed above me and the wall at my back can't really shelter me from them, but... I can't go out there. It's like thinking about crossing that line of powder he made, but it's not pain I'm afraid of now. It's... exposure.

He jerks his wand with what I suppose he thinks is a threatening gesture.

"Didn't you hear me? Get out! Or do you want a repeat of yesterday?"

Yesterday? Does he know?

He means what he did yesterday.

I shiver. Yes, Malfoy is to be feared when he wields a wand in his father's dungeon.

But he'll do that again anyway, won't he? Once I'm out from under the bed...

Don't be ridiculous. You can't stay here forever. You have to face him.

I inch forward. I stop.

For God's sake, Hermione! Just get it over with!

"Miss Granger."

Malfoy scowls. His father's voice slides down into my shadowy corner, a winding snare a hundred times more treacherous now that he's speaking directly to me.

"Come out," he says. "Now."

Just that.

And I do. I'm glad the cracks between the flagstones aren't straight. It means I can follow their erratic path without thinking about where it leads.

Malfoy moves away as I emerge. He wipes the sulky frown from his face before turning back to face his father.

Lucius Malfoy, I think, and shiver. I keep my eyes to the floor.

"Stand up, Miss Granger."

I glance at him, then look away – even the briefest glimpse of that cruel smiling face is enough to make the blood rise to my cheeks. I stand up.

I listen, not watch, as his boots click across the stone.

"Look at me. I thought you wanted to look at me."

Don't. Don't talk about the light...

And I meet his gaze, an arm-length away. So cold. So... indifferent. It's hard to believe that he really... that he was really here, last night. But he was, I'm sure it was him. His face in that harsh white light was too, too real somehow, to have been a Boggart. And he wouldn't have said that about wanting to look at him if he wasn't getting back at me.

I glance down at his hands. Both are gloved. When I look up again one of his eyebrows is a fraction higher than it was before.

He takes two steps towards me. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to move. I don't.

He's too close. But he doesn't touch me.

"The bed," he says, very quietly, "was provided for your comfort. But it appears that you would rather sleep on the floor, like the uncouth animal that you are. So would you prefer me to remove it?"

I say nothing. What would be the point?

He sighs. "I said, Miss Granger, would you like me to remove the bed?"

I shake my head.

"Answer me properly, girl!"

Properly. He's so bloody hung up on being proper...

"No," I say. "No thank you, Mr Malfoy."

My cheeks are burning. For a moment I'm sure he's going to reach out to trace the heat with one of those black fingers, and I don't want him to touch me and I steel myself not to flinch or react in any way at all... but he doesn't. He just smiles.

"Well, we shall see," he says. "Perhaps if you perform well today, hmm?"

What the hell does he mean by that?

I glance over at the ferret. He's watching us with a mask-like expression.

Lucius Malfoy follows my gaze, steps back and gestures to his son.

"Proceed."

Malfoy smirks.

"And I can do anything, Father?"

The elder Malfoy frowns. "Within reason, Draco. She is a Mudblood, after all."

Malfoy's face darkens for a moment, but then he looks at me and laughs. "Oh, I think that leaves plenty of scope – wouldn't you say, Granger?"

Given what Lucius Malfoy thinks is 'within reason'...

Malfoy tilts his head to one side, eyes slightly narrowed. He's holding his wand in his right hand, tap tap tapping it absently on his left. Either he's deciding what to do or he's trying to work up the will to do it. Not that there's anything I can do about it, not with his father observing us both like a silent hovering vulture.

"Shame you couldn't have been this quiet at school," Malfoy says. "But you're learning your place now, aren't you?"

I can't believe they're so hung up on that. As if bullying me into submission will restore whatever it is they think we Muggleborns have taken from them.

"Aren't you?" he says again.

I roll my eyes at him, angling my head so his father can't see. The edge of Malfoy's mouth turns down.

"Oh dear," he says. "Well, if you can't speak to me, I think you'd better show me." He grins. "On your knees, Granger."

What?

No way. Not even his father made me do that.

I can see Lucius Malfoy out of the corner of my eye. Does he want to see me do it, or does he expect me to tell Malfoy where he deserves to go?

That particular temptation is easier to resist with his father standing there. He's just... watching. Intent, but uninvolved.

After everything they've done, I would never have thought they could humiliate me further. But just thinking of it makes every pore in my body ooze shame.

"You heard me, Granger." Malfoy points to the floor. "Kneel!"

Still no expression from his father.

"To you?" I let Bubotuber pus drip from my words.

A smile flickers over his father's lips.

"Ooooh, aren't you being quick today?" the younger Malfoy taunts me.

I glare at him.

He sneers. He points his wand at me, traces an almost-familiar pattern-

"Imperio!"

And a voice in my head... says to kneel on the floor...

And it can go straight to hell!

But my knees start to bend... because I have to kneel now
...because that's what the voice... says I have to do now-

No way.

I'm resisting it! I've never been able to do that before!

And that petulant voice... tells me I should obey... that I belong at his feet on the floor...
and I look at the stones and the cracks in between-

And I seize on the cracks in his spell. I will not do what he wants me to do! I'll show him...

But isn't that the point? To show him what works? Do you really want to help him learn the Imperius Curse?

No.

So what am I supposed to do – go along with it?

And the voice murmurs on... though I brush it aside...
telling me I'm so stupid, for not doing as it says...

And I don't have to.

But I choose to. And I hope that one day, when it really matters, someone will be able to throw off a Curse that he thought he could do perfectly.

So I make my face go as blank as I can, and I kneel.

I can't keep from blushing, no matter how much I tell myself that this is an act of resistance.

And he says in my head... that I should look up...

So he can smirk at me. "Yes, Granger. That's how you show respect for your superiors."

You arrogant, slimy little git...

But it's easier to keep my expression blank if I just let the words wash over me, if I concentrate only on what the voice in my head is saying. Not that it's much more pleasant than the voice in his mouth.

His father is standing right behind him, still looking more... curious than anything else. Our eyes meet. He raises an eyebrow. I slide my gaze into the distance.

And the voice in my mind says that I'm not fit to look... that I'm filthy as mud... that I need to go lower...

So I sink down so that I'm bending over my knees and my hands are on the rough flagstones. It's easier to look at the floor than at them, anyway.

"That's more like it," Malfoy sneers. There's a pause, a swirl of robes. He's twisting to face his father.

"Impressive," Lucius Malfoy says. There's a slight edge to his voice.

"Shall I continue?"

"Yes... Let's put her to the test, shall we?"

"Well, Granger," says Malfoy, "now that you're on the floor, why don't you show us how well you can crawl?"

...And his words echo round, in the back of my mind...

So I shift my weight onto my hands and prepare to move. Better just not to think about it too much.

"Hmm," says Lucius Malfoy. "I had something a little more... challenging in mind."

There's a pause, then a rustle.

I only just remember to hold my position until Malfoy countermands his order to crawl.

"Er... what do you want me to do with this?" says Malfoy.

"No," says his father. "It's what you want her to do with it."

And I'm told to sit back... and to look up at his face...

Malfoy is looking slightly apprehensive. His father is looking slightly amused.

...and the voice in my head says to hold out my hand...

And Malfoy holds out... a knife. The same knife. The one I Transfigured, that I stabbed his father with. That his father used on me.

What, is that the only knife they have?

I take it.

"Say 'thank-you', Granger."

I do, smiling in a way that I hope looks more dreamy than derisive.

He grins back. "You can start with the robe, Granger."

His father takes a step forward, as if he's going to say something. But then he stops, and says nothing.

"You wanted me to challenge her," says Malfoy. "This will, Father – I know her. She may be a Mudblood, but she's proud, she thinks she's better than anyone else. She'd really hate to expose herself like this."

"Indeed," Lucius Malfoy says.

I feel slightly numb.

...there's a sneer in my mind... as the voice says to begin...

So, Malfoy, you really think this is difficult, after what your father did to me?

Not that it's... nice.

And it's not easy, either, turning my wrist so I can cut through the neckline of the robe, sawing at the fibres, trying to appear more careless than cautious even as I'm being careful not to cut my skin. I don't think about what I'm doing, only how I'm doing it, keeping my eye on the bright metal point parting the fabric, trying to ignore the chill on my skin as it passes my breasts and the robe falls open...

"I think that's enough of that," says Lucius Malfoy.

Malfoy scowls in my mind, but tells me to stop.

"Now," says his father. "I want to see her use the knife."

No.

"On what?"

"On herself, of course."

No.

He knows. I can feel his eyes on me as if they were fingers resting on the back of my neck. He knows I'm pretending and he's just turned it into another game. I could refuse to play – but what would he do then?

I have the knife. I could try to throw the curse off completely and attack Malfoy – that would stop him using Imperius in the future. But that would be very, very, stupid.

...so I follow the voice, when it tells me to place... the blade on my skin...

Just below my shoulder, almost where his father threatened to stab me in revenge for me stabbing him. Is that co-incidence? It doesn't feel right, somehow, for Malfoy to be intruding on that battle.

...and he tells me to push... and I want- no I don't

I can't. Not even a little.

"I expect she's resisting a little more now, hmm?" Lucius Malfoy says. "So it's all the more important that you really mean it when you tell her what to do."

"Of course I mean it," Malfoy snaps.

"Did I question that?"

Malfoy's anger rips through my mind.

...you will press in the knife... you will make yourself bleed... you will do as I say, you stupid Mudblood cow!

And, God help me, I... I try to do it. Crazy, I know, as if anything down here is sane, but I'm clinging to the idea that if I can just draw a little blood I'll get away with it.

But I can't do it. I press in but when it starts to hurt I can't bring myself to push it further. Stupid.

Stupid Mudblood...

"That will do, Miss Granger. You can stop now."

Thank God.

I lower the knife.

And then I realise my mistake. That wasn't Malfoy speaking. And Malfoy's voice is the only thing I'm supposed to be aware of.

I try to disguise my movement, pretend I was just moving the blade to try somewhere else. As if I could ever fool him!

"I said, stop, Miss Granger."

I freeze, staring down at the knife. No one could ignore an instruction given in that tone.

"How did you do that?" Malfoy voice is sharp.

"Well," his father drawls, "it seems that our little Mudblood can recognise her true master."

There's a moment of furious silence.

"But the spell! I had her under Imperius! How did you break into the spell?"

Lucius Malfoy laughs. "That, Draco, is something you should ask Miss Granger." He slides his wand under my chin. I don't move. I feel very cold.

"Look up, little one," he says quietly.

I do.

"There, you see, Draco? What did young Bartemius Crouch teach you last year about resisting Imperius? Perhaps if you'd paid more attention to Miss Granger's eyes instead of her undersized breasts, you might have noticed."

What? 'Undersized' didn't seem to be a problem for you last night!

Malfoy glowers at me. "Let me try again, Father."

His father looks at him for several seconds. "No, Draco, I think that's enough for one day. You can try again some other time, perhaps."

"But Father, I can do it! I'll show her..."

"I think you've shown her quite enough."

Malfoy scowls. His father frowns.

"Don't question my judgement, Draco. There is no point in rushing ahead before the lesson has properly sunk in. And Miss Granger has taught you a valuable lesson today, although I'm sure she would not care to admit it."

He smiles down at me. I stare back, stony-eyed.

Malfoy looks at us both. The confusion on his face resolves to suspicion.

"You made her do that on purpose?"

His father smiles, thin-lipped. "Actually, no. I was expecting her to resist, of course, just as she did when I left you both together yesterday. If you want to learn how to exert your authority, there's little to be gained from working on a docile subject. But the nature of the resistance... that, I admit, I was not expecting."

He catches my gaze then, and it's as if he's dissecting my soul.

"Yes," he says, and I'm not entirely sure whether he's talking to Malfoy, or to me, or even to himself, "our Miss Granger is full of surprises. She always presents such... interesting challenges."

I lower my eyes. I don't want him to think I'm 'interesting'. If he found me boring maybe he'd just wipe my memory and let me go.

Yeah, right. He'd just have handed me over to Macnair.

I can't work him out. He's just pretty much said that he wants me to fight him, but when I do he treats it as a personal insult. What am I supposed to do?

But I've been through that argument before. I can't second-guess him. All I can do is what feels right to me – to act from my own integrity instead of trying to react to his lack of it.

"Now, Miss Granger."

I look up. He holds out his hand.

"The knife, if you please."

I hold it up, hilt first. He whips out his wand.

"Imperio."

...and his voice holds me tight... as our minds interweave... and it feels oh so right...
as I roll up a sleeve
and I press in the blade... as he wants me to do...
for he must be obeyed
...and the red trickles through...
and he wants to see more...
and I want him to see... so I slash and I claw
...and the river runs free, to pool red on the stone... and I offer it all, my blood flesh and bone... there's a smile in his call...

And then there's only screaming pain and stinking blood slippery on my hand as I throw down the knife and squeeze the wound closed. The blood throbs out between my fingers and the pain... oh my God, what did he do? What did I do?

"There Miss Granger. It's not so difficult after all, is it?"

ohmygod...

"You see, Draco, she's really quite eager to please when you know how to ask."

Eager to please? The bastard, the utter bastard. How can he just stand there bloody lecturing while I'm bleeding to death? He's a fiend from hell!

But those words chime through my mind like a warped bell I can't ignore. This is a nightmare, it has to be. I knew he could make me do whatever he wanted with Imperius, but to make me want to do it...

Oh God, what's he done to me?

I rock back and forth on my knees, every part of me frozen numb except my left arm that's warm with blood and torn by agony that lashes and writhes like an acid snake oh God please stop it hurting... Nothing else is quite real. The lines of his pointed features are blurred. Malfoy's pale face sways in and out of view above me.

"You did watch her eyes this time?" his father is saying.

"Well, I... Yes." But Malfoy is looking at the blood. "Are you-"

"And did you see the difference?"

The difference? All I can see is blood, blood, blood, and isn't that difference enough? The knife is red and silver against the dark grey stone. The knife that he made me want to use.

It's as if I'm floating in a vacuum of horror.

What's he done to me? How can I fight him when he can make me want to do what he says? To make me want to do more than he says...

I shudder.

It's just Imperius.

But, oh God, I never knew Imperius could be like that. It's as if, as if... he's twisted something inside. How can I act from my own integrity when something so wrong can feel so right?

Oh God, let it end. I can't take any more.

They're still discussing the bloody technicalities of the spell, but their words float over my head. I feel sick. Or I would, if I could feel anything but pain and cold fear.

This can't be happening. It can't.

But if it isn't happening, then nothing matters, does it?

I... I can't fight this. I don't understand what he's done to me, what he's doing to me, what he's going to do to me, but I can't let him. I have to end it now.

I grab for the knife.

No more.

But... I can't do it.

Yes I can. Hasn't he just shown me I can?

I point the long blade at my heart.

Don't think about it. Just do it.

His fingers close around my wrist. "Not now, Miss Granger. Only when I tell you."

He jerks my hand upwards so I have to rise up on my knees. I sway in his grip, blinking away tears.

Why can't he let me go?

But my left arm is hanging by my side, pumping out blood. I'm going to bleed to death anyway, and then there'll be no more pain and he won't be able to hurt me any more...

"Take the knife, Draco," he says.

Malfoy reaches out, gingerly plucking it away with gloved thumb and forefinger pinched on the least bloodied part of the blade.

"Now go and rinse it off."

Which leaves us alone. I'm too dizzy to care.

He seizes my other wrist and holds it up. The blood wells up between his fingers and runs down to drip drip drip from my elbow.

Water splashes in the sink. I sway, both wrists caught in his grip.

"Now, Hermione," he says quietly, "I want you keep still for me. You may have no breeding to speak of, but that's no excuse to slouch."

Bastard. Bastard.

His fingers are inches away from my eyes, curled firmly around my wrists. Fingers... Not like the way he touched me last night. I don't want him to touch me at all. Don't want him to look at me, to see what he's done...

But he knows. He knows. I can see it in his eyes.

"No." I shake my head. "No..."

He smiles.

I brace myself against his hands. It's the only way I can hold myself up. I'm shaking with the strain.

"Good girl," he says. "You're finally starting to learn. I think I'll grant you the bed tonight after all."

Like I care?

He glances to our left. Malfoy is back.

"One more lesson, Draco, and then we'll leave Miss Granger to reflect on the day's events. Put the knife down, and come and hold her arm."

His fingers tighten momentarily on my bloodied wrist before he pushes it towards his son. Malfoy eyes it. One corner of his mouth twitches down.

His father gives him a hard look.

Malfoy wrinkles his nose but grasps my arm. His father lets go of my other wrist as well. It's harder to balance like this, but I daren't not.

I'm swaying, I think, swimming in a haze of pain...

"That's right, Draco," his father says. "Take a good look at the wound."

That's right, Malfoy – and if you think that's ugly, you should try having one in your arm.

Then Lucius Malfoy says "Sano" and everything glows golden in the light flowing from his wand. His face is alive with fierce concentration as he moves his wandtip slowly along my arm. And it's warm... even the pain is fading.

The light fades with it. He lifts his wand away. "There," he says.

Malfoy lets go of my arm. It's still covered in blood. My legs feel like jelly. My knees are starting to hurt from the hard stone floor.

"Well, Miss Granger?"

I take a deep breath and concentrate on staying upright. "Thank you."

He resumes his lecture. "The point I want you to remember, Draco, is... what?"

Malfoy swallows. "Er... how to do the healing spell?"

"So you're confident you could do that now, are you?"

He doesn't reply.

"No," says his father. "The point I was trying to make is this: if you need to inflict injury to illustrate a point, you should choose a wound that you know you can repair. Unless, of course, it doesn't matter if you lose the subject. But even then... Well, you know I can't abide waste. It would be most inconvenient to be forced to find another Mudblood for you to practice on."

Oh, thank you very much.

He looks down at me. "By the time I come back, you will have washed, and cleaned your robe, and wiped the blood off the floor, and put the sheets back on the bed. Neatly. Is that clear?"

You're assuming I can even stand up. Big assumption.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy," I say.

He turns away. "And now, Draco," he says, "it really is time to leave Miss Granger to her own devices. Your mother will be expecting us at the dinner table in" – he pulls out his watch – "half an hour. Which reminds me... haven't you forgotten something?"

"Er... I don't think so."

"You know we mustn't forget to feed our pets, Draco. Not if we want to keep them."

"Oh. I was just waiting for you to tell me when."

"And I'm telling you now."

I watch Malfoy flick his wand at the desk. A bowl appears, and the usual smell of soup mingles with the stench of blood – it seems as though Malfoy can do that spell, at least. Though I suppose I should reserve judgement on that until I've actually tasted what he's left for me.

While he goes up to dine with his mother. His mother. I saw her once, in the box at the Quidditch World Cup. Narcissa. Another of Sirius' cousins, though it's hard to imagine.

Well, perhaps not so hard, having seen Sirius' parents' house. But still...

I look down at my arm. It's crusted with blood, but beneath that it's as if the wound was never there at all.

Does she – Narcissa – know what's going on down here? She must have some idea, judging by what he said to Macnair. But... but... I can't quite believe that. Can't believe that she would choose to stay with him, if she knew... or to sleep with him, for God's sake.

My hair quivers against my scalp. I jump. I pull my head back. Lucius Malfoy withdraws his hand, a dark light in his eyes.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he says. A smile plays on his lips. "Sweet dreams."

That's what he said last night.

Malfoy is standing behind his father. When he sees me glance in his direction, he moves his lips to form soundless words:

"You wait, Granger."

I don't need to hear the words to feel their spite. His loathing hangs about him like a black cloud – and then they are gone.