A Surprising Safety

Chapter 2: Then the Realization

The more perfect a thing is, the more susceptible to good and bad treatment it is.

- Dante

"The object of the manipulation has to be willing," Hermione argued, in triumph. She had never heard of Vicissitude Vires, but most magic that involved changing the nature of another person required consent - though that could be forced.

"No, they don't, Miss Granger," Voldemort assured. "Taking advantage of Vicissitude Vires does not directly use spells. Rather, the subject's magic is moulded through their environment, and the magic they cast, or are allowed to cast."

"I won't do it!" Hermione shouted, feeling rage build up at the contempt and condescending tone.

"You will. You are too powerful to be wasted on simple fools like Dumbledore. You are meant for the Dark Arts, Hermione," Voldemort hissed, using her given name for the first time. It felt so much more personal, and upset her that much more as well.

He stepped closer, and forced her face to look into his. When he spoke, it was quiet enough that only she could hear. "You seek knowledge. You seek the acknowledgment of your success and abilities. I know the desire - I know the difficulty of climbing out of the gutter of one's parents' lives."

"I am a Muggleborn witch, and proud of it. I don't try to hide my heritage, nor my family, and I am just as worthy and powerful because of it," Hermione retorted, not bothering to lower her voice. The implications of her statement made the Dark Lord draw back in anger.

"Your parents are dead. Your friend is dead. You are alone, you have disappeared, and you are unknown. You don't even have a wand. I take that as acceptance of my offer," Voldemort answered finally. "It will be interesting to see your attitude and opinions of these same subjects in a few months time."

"When Harry kills you," Hermione said the fury and loss lining her voice, "I am going to be there to watch."

Voldemort repeated his earlier response. "Not tonight."

Hermione felt hands grip her shoulders, and spun around. It was Lucius Malfoy - she recognized the glittering grey eyes in the holes of his mask.

Still gripping her shoulders, he Disapparated, and took Hermione with him for the second time that night.

When she opened her eyes, they were standing in a stone pentagon - an Apparation point. A path led up to a mansion and Lucius turned, waiting for Hermione to follow.

"Are you going to run?" He asked.

"No," Hermione answered, slightly stunned him even considering her reaction.

"Well, then hurry up, girl!" He snapped, tapping his cane impatiently on the step above him.

When she followed him, he continued, leading the way up the steps, stopping briefly at each landing to withdraw his wand and murmur several spells, presumably taking down and putting up wards. Hermione stumbled several times, tired and aching, mentally and emotionally exhausted. They finally reached a terrace with small raised garden beds, a fountain, and several tables. From here, Hermione saw that the area they had Apparated to was towards the bottom of a hill, and beneath it lay a lake, extensive gardens, and a topiary maze. The Malfoy equivalent of a backyard.

Lucius didn't stop to admire the view - but then, he lives here, Hermione thought - instead continuing straight into the Manor, and into the lit room that lie inside open French doors.

"Lucius!" A voice cried.

A tall blonde woman rushed into his arms, and kissed him on both cheeks quickly. "You didn't send word!" She accused. "I expected you hours ago!"

"I apologize, Narcissa. There was an unexpected development," Lucius replied, gently removing his wife from him.

"You disappointed Draco - again. He waited up for you," Narcissa added, now much more collected.

"I will speak to him, later. Now - come here, girl!" Lucius directed that last order at Hermione, the impatience resonating in his voice.

Narcissa's attention turned to the girl who stepped out of the shadows into the light of her sitting room. She studied the child -or teenager, rather. Hermione shifted slightly under Narcissa's gaze.

The girl was clearly exhausted, shaking slightly with the after affects of Cruciatus, which Narcissa recognized well. She had tear stains on her cheeks, a cut on her palm and lip, dirt smudged on wrinkled and torn clothes.

"Who is this, Lucius?" Narcissa asked coldly.

"Hermione Granger. She was in the Muggle church we raided. Our Lord was pleased with my gift," Lucius explained, removing his mask and gloves, and then leaning slightly on his cane in disinterest.

Narcissa looked at Hermione again, calculating this time. Draco had carried home stories of Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Mudblood too smart for her own good, and who ran with Harry Potter and his Weasley friend. This girl was beaten, shaking, tired, and devastated.

I'm different from what she would have expected, Hermione realized, noticing Narcissa's apparent disillusionment.

Narcissa tilted her chin, and turned back to Lucius. He met her eyes and said, "I will explain later."

Narcissa nodded, and Lucius turned, boots making precise clicks on the marbled floor as he exited the room.

"Come," Narcissa ordered.

Hermione followed Narcissa; the latter's robes trailing on the polished floor as she led her through hallways and rooms, up staircases and past whispering portraits. She stopped before a room with tall double doors, opening one and gesturing for Hermione to enter.

The younger woman did so, and Narcissa addressed her before shutting the doors again. "One of the elves, or my husband or I, will come for you in the morning. Do not wander - it is easy to become lost in the Manor."

Then she shut the door, leaving it conspicuously unlocked.

Hermione was left in a large chamber, complete with fireplace, vanity, dressers, a bed, couches, a desk, and a large candlelit bathroom. There was no window.

She didn't care, and collapsed onto the bed after taking the few feet towards it she required.

Lights magically dimming as she shut her eyes, Hermione immediately fell asleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke to aching muscles and a throbbing headache. Her lip was swollen, and when she licked it she could taste the blood near the surface.

A clock ticking softly on the desk informed her it was one o'clock in the afternoon. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, feeling light-headed for a moment. Deciding that she was capable of walking, Hermione headed towards the bathroom.

She'd splashed water on her face and washed the cut on her hand, when a squeak came from the room.

"Is Miss Granger awake? Tilly is needing to know if Miss Granger is awake, miss, because master is needing to see her."

Hermione looked at the house elf, and for the first time, felt an urge to kick the cowering little creature. She wanted to be alone, to go back to sleep, to be able to forget everything for just a little bit longer...

"Miss? Tilly is needing to know, miss, if you are up, and master is wanting to see you!" It repeated anxiously, twisting its ratty pillowcase between its fingers.

"Yes, I am awake," Hermione snapped. "And tell Mr. Malfoy that I refuse to see him, and I am going back to sleep."

She stormed out of the bathroom, Tilly jumping out of the way, and crawled back in bed, yanking the curtains shut around it and burrowing under the blankets.

Tilly moaned piteously at the thought of delivering such a rude response to her master, but left with a pop, leaving Hermione alone.

Shutting her eyes tightly, Hermione tried to fall back asleep. Her eyes burned, and she knew that her body was still exhausted. But her mind was in turmoil, and she kept replaying the night before again, and again, and again...

She was half-asleep with a few tears dangling on her eyelashes when Lucius Malfoy entered. Hermione didn't move, because the curtains and canopy draping the bed were soundproof. He quickly yanked them back, exposing her, and said, "Get up."

Hermione opened her eyes, and saw an angry Lucius standing over her, index finger rubbing the serpentine eyes of his cane. She sat up, and quickly moved to stand. It was uncomfortable to be sitting with him towering over her.

"Let me make myself clear, Miss Granger. My Lord has plans for you, plans which I play a part in. I have no intention of disappointing him, especially because of an irritating and disobedient Mudblood. If I call you, you will come. If my wife, summons you, you will obey her. If you receive a message from either of us through another, you will follow it. There is no choice involved," He emphasized, in slow words, sharp and plain.

Hermione shivered at the coldness of his tone, feeling the prickling of sweat breaking out across her body. A comment by Ron flashed to the surface of her mind: "I wouldn't want to mess with any of that family. The Malfoys are dangerous to your health."

Ron.

Harry.

Ginny. Mother, Father, the church, the raid, Tom Riddle, Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, the three- year-old boy, the screaming woman, Crucio, ashes, and a melted golden chain with a single strand of gleaming red hair...

A melted golden chain.

Lucius Malfoy was wearing a melted golden chain. With a strand of red hair still entwined in the twisted yellow metal.

Hermione gaped at it, shocked and horrified. A token of her friend's death - hanging around the murderer's throat.

She had thought Lucius Malfoy many things. A Death Eater, an aristocrat, a pureblood, a scornful man too wealthy and too proud. Power hungry, and frighteningly intelligent. But he seemed to be nothing better then a bloodthirsty and sadistic murderer. There was nothing less, and he was nothing more.

His mouth crooked into a slight smile as Hermione stared in disbelief at the necklace. He revelled in it, basking in every drop of fear and anguish that he could wring from her body.

When he had let her reminisce accordingly for nearly a minute, Lucius spun on his heel and left, pausing at the door to say, "Be downstairs in a half hour," without even turning around.

Within seconds of his departure, Tilly the house elf was back, whirling around and wringing her hands. "Must hurry, miss, Tilly must help you get dressed, Master will be so displeased if I disobeys him again."

Hermione snapped back to reality. She let Tilly lead her around, taking a bath, brushing her hair, eating lunch, putting on the clothes laid out for her. In the wake of her abduction, and the realization of her predicament, its permanence, and danger, the mourning for her parents and Ginny faded to a bearable and strangely detached state. She felt sorrow thinking about them, but not the overwhelming and breath-wrenching pain from before. This seemed wrong somehow, but it was welcome relief she wouldn't deny - but you have to mourn sometime, Hermione thought. Tonks had said much the same thing after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. She'd smiled sadly when Hermione confessed she was worried Harry would sink too far into himself, collapse from the internal pressure and lack of external love and support at his uncle and aunt's. Better to get it out sooner - it'll only eat you up from the inside out.

Fortunately, Hermione mused, I don't have much inside to be eaten up anymore.

Tilly led her through a hallway, a room, and down a flight of gleaming wooden stairs, and Hermione, still wrapped up in her mind, considered how very little she had to lose.

Then she recalled how she had fought to save her life, rather then stay with her parents, and knew exactly how well Lucius had caught her.

He was waiting in an office, or a small library - it could have been either. The windows in it looked out over the lake, which glittered in the afternoon light streaming through the beveled glass. His hair was swept back impeccably over black and green robes, the ever present cane in his left hand.

"Sit," He commanded nonchalantly.

Hermione did so, seating herself at a desk.

Lucius spoke to her without turning around. "While your appearance before my Lord last night was unexpected, he has been planning such an event for some time now. You, Miss Granger, are wanted badly by both sides of this war - or rather, your magic is," He said, adding the last comment silkily.

"I have been deemed your instructor in the dark arts, because of my experience, and the trust that I will be able to resist any temptation to practice them upon you, rather then teaching you them. And, Draco will be such an excellent influence on you." He turned around, searching her face for the slightest response.

Hermione folded her arms, and didn't move. She did note, with some relief, that he had removed Ginny's necklace. "You're going to teach me the dark arts," She replied. That would be like handing a serial killer a gun, your address, and a map of the neighbourhood, she thought.

"You are intelligent girl, Miss Granger, albeit an annoying know-it-all if Draco is anything to go by. Please do better then repeating my own words in your answers," Lucius snapped.

Draco! Hermione thought with dismay. She'd forgotten about him. Lovely.

"Father! Mother wanted to know where you moved the key to the - well, well. If it isn't, Granger. Come to visit?"

I'm beginning to understand Harry's mood swings from the past five years. She turned in the chair, and saw a surprised Draco Malfoy examining this latest addition to the household.

Strangely, Hermione felt somewhat safer now. Her relationship with Draco was stable and certain; he disliked her as much as she scoffed at him and his prejudices. That little bit of school life brought into her now upturned one was comforting. And she hadn't heard any real menace in his voice - not like the controlled hate she detected in Lucius' every movement. His remark seemed pettier, gloating over her sudden appearance. Irritating, but not dangerous.

"Yes, thought I'd drop in for a bit and stay for tea," Hermione snorted.

Lucius Malfoy watched their exchange, remaining silent for the moment.

"I'm serious, Granger. Why the hell are you at my house? It's not like I don't spend nearly ten months out of the year with you," Draco retorted.

"Ask your father," Hermione bit back.

Draco looked at Lucius, who nodded to his son. Draco's mouth dropped open in shock.

"She's the one you've been planning on training?" he exclaimed.

"Well, I'm glad someone else is surprised," Hermione said to herself.

"I am not going to stand here all afternoon and watch you two banter. I have work to do, and Miss Granger still needs her lesson for the day," Lucius cut in, lacing his last sentence with sarcasm.

"I apologize for interrupting, Father," Draco replied with seemingly honest humility and regret. Then he turned around, and walked through the bookshelves to the door, Lucius nodding and turning away from him before he'd even left. Over Lucius' shoulder, however, Hermione could see that Draco had opened the door, shut it, and walked right back to the end of the bookshelf, leaning on it and watching.

He saw her staring at him, and knew she couldn't say anything. Or wouldn't - perhaps he knew how much safer she felt with him there.

It must be Stockholm Syndrome, Hermione thought. Draco Malfoy making me feel safe.

Draco waved, smirking, obviously enjoying Hermione's discomfort in the situation.

Lucius was in a far more volatile mood, and he withdrew a wand from his pocket, handing it to Hermione. It had a slim band of metal fused on near the tip.

"That," Lucius said, "Is to prevent you from ever managing to seriously hurt me. And to ensure that when you practice magic, it is dark magic only."

Hermione immediately turned and pointed the wand at a book on the shelf. "Accio!" She cried.

The book flopped around on the shelf, but didn't move towards her at all.

Lucius completely ignored her thwarted attempts at normal magic. "You have, of course, felt the Imperius curse before. Now you will learn how to block it."

Hermione's chest fluttered with the beginnings of panic. "But, you, you can't! It's an Unforgiveable - "

"Imperio," Lucius sighed, appearing only mildly bothered by this angry and confused girl.

Hermione felt that floating feeling, dreamy and content. Go stand in the window. Go stand in the open window.

She obeyed the voice, feeling blissful and at peace. A breeze ruffled her hair, and euphoria filled her.

Jump out of the window.

She jumped.

The curse was lifted almost instantaneously, and Hermione heard Lucius shout, "Wingardium Leviosa!" before she slammed into the ground.

But she hit it hard enough to jar both knees, and winced as Lucius lifted her up and through the window, where he set her down again.

She could still see Draco watching intently.

Maybe he's never seen his father "at work" like this before. At least not with another person.

"Try again," Lucius demanded. "And I won't bother to catch you next time."

Her back to the room, Hermione waited anxiously, trying to prepare her mind for the attack.

"Imperio!"

Bliss, relief, peace, and calm. Jump out of the window.

No, you can't jump, you'll fall! - the awake part of her mind screamed.

Jump out of the window.

Hermione hesitated.

Jump! NOW!

She felt herself lean back, putting one foot off the ledge - and then snapped back to herself and her hands grabbed for the sides of the window. She shoved backwards, and landed in a heap on the floor, gasping from the danger and mental effort.

"Very good," Lucius said. He beckoned for her to return to the desk, where a thin book lay.

She looked quickly towards the bookshelf, knowing that Lucius would see Draco, but the younger Malfoy was gone.

"Read this tonight," Lucius ordered. And then he left.

Hermione slid into the chair, still shaky from the Imperius and from being near Lucius Malfoy. She wished badly for a piece of chocolate.

No house elves came for her, and the room was silent. The book before her beckoned.

"A Treatise on Dark Magic," She read aloud. "By Benedict of Bryher."

Despite her misgivings, curiosity took over, and she opened the book and began to read.