Abyss

I have no thought at all about my own reward

I really didn't come here of my own accord

Just don't say I'm damned... for all time!

JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR

Chapter 7

"Good afternoon, Hermione," Voldemort said softly. "I see you fared well last night."

The memory his calm, ironic voice inspired made the blood rush to her face and her stomach churn--the clammy hands, the tongue licking his lips and the slightly glazed expression, his panting breath, his most obvious lust... the merest thought of Wormtail's hands on her, his body intimately touching her... if she were not naked beneath her blanket, she might have expressed her whole-hearted desire to kill the Dark Lord with her bare hands. She stood cold and silent as a marble sculpture instead, waiting for Voldemort to make the first move.

"How did it feel for a traitor to sleep with a traitor?" Lucius asked, savoring the insult to the Mudblood friend of Potter's.

"I wouldn't know," Hermione said.

Voldemort stood and lazily stretched out an arm. "Imperius," he almost crooned.

As all worries swept from her mind, her hold loosened on the blanket, and it fell to the floor. She walked forward as if in a trance.

"How lovely to have the snake charm the mistress," Voldemort hissed in quiet glee. "Will you have her, Lucius?" He Banished the blanket then let her free of the spell. In an instinctual act of modesty, she tried to cover bare skin, but restrained herself, knowing they would see her no matter what her attempt.

"She is fine enough, but I won't know until I've ridden her," Lucius answered. She was emaciated, but she still curved where it mattered.

"Then, by all means, try the girl. I've no more use for her," Voldemort said.

"Don't you?" Hermione asked.

Voldemort turned around in a surprisingly graceful maneuver. His head swayed on his neck to face her. "Why? What do you think I would do with you? The fact you are here rather than at Hogwarts is all that concerns me."

"I don't know what you'd do with me," Hermione said. "I just thought..."

"You just thought I'd have a special place in my heart for you?" Voldemort asked mockingly.

"Were they," she said, referring to Crabbe, Goyle, and Wormtail, "not enough for me?"

"Extravagance is never wasted in the treatment of an adversary," Tanner said, like he was quoting.

"You know there is a way you could make it all end, Hermione." Once again, Voldemort pulled her wand from his sleeve and slid it into her hand.. Unlike most people, Voldemort seemed to absorb heat rather than radiate it, and she shivered, her flesh rippling into gooseflesh. He smelled of caverns.

"Yes, I know a way to make it end," Hermione began, her pitch steadily increasing. "I kill myself. That is the only way this can end. Do you think I'd be so stupid as to believe you'd stop torturing me just because I counter a spell?"

"Unfortunately, that is not an option," Voldemort said. "You're more valuable to me alive. But if you really want to, go ahead. You have your wand." He whispered in her ear, "Kill yourself."

Hermione shivered at his cold breath, but did not move.

"Do you have the courage, Hermione, little Gryffindor, to kill yourself to spoil my small designs for you? Or are you just too idealistic? Do you still have hope?"

The door behind her opened, and Wormtail, fully dressed, walked out of the room. The sight of Hermione's naked body in the bright light made him freeze. His eyes darkened and his cheeks reddened.

"How was she?" Lucius asked from his armchair. He was watching Hermione to catch her reaction.

"Well," Wormtail stammered, "I, ah, haven't much, er, basis for comparison. She was soft and, erm, and..." He swore as his body began to respond more strongly to her nakedness, and his gaze drifted pointedly to her breasts and the apex between her thighs. His fingers began fidgeting with each other and he licked his lips unconsciously.

"I'll let you have her again if you'd like," Lucius said. He showed his amusement as horror flooded Hermione's eyes. "I've waited five years, what's another fifteen minutes."

Hermione tried to lift her wand against Malfoy, but Voldemort tightened his grip.

"Really," Wormtail said, his eyes sparking with sexual desire. "Really. If Potter could see me now." He laid a hand on the curve of her buttock.

"Which one?" Hermione snapped. "You've betrayed them both."

"Whenever I'd talk about liking any girl to James or Sirius, they would laugh and tease me and embarrass me, as though the idea of me ever having a girl was ludicrous, just because they were good-looking and I wasn't. Now they're dead. And you're here."

"Last time I checked, they got their girls honestly."

"And where are they now?" Wormtail murmured in her ear.

She was still weak, but she let go of the wand Voldemort held and slapped Wormtail across the face, curling her fingers so that her nails formed furrows in his skin. One scratch bled, and only a little. But the fact that she had struck him froze him where he stood.

"Filthy, cowardly rat! You were a Gryffindor! You were supposed to be brave, determined, fierce, and loyal, and all those other painfully idealistic adjectives. How did you become this? What is the glory in this?" She gestured to her body. "What have you done to earn this? Nothing. You did not court me, you did not persuade me, you didn't even break me... you took me. You did nothing. You have no glory! You're not a quarter of the men they were."

"You little bitch," Wormtail began.

"Don't you dare! You were cringing at my feet in the Shrieking Shack. Cringing! Pleading that I save you." Hermione drew back her hand again, but Voldemort, with his own wand in the other hand, bound her wrists together.

Wormtail began unbuttoning his trousers frantically, his eyes wide and dark with fascination, and Hermione realized he was going to rape her, really rape her, right there under globes of light and the bemused stares of his fellow Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort. She ran to the side, but lost balance easily when Wormtail tripped her, and she fell on her hip. She tried to wriggle away, all dignity forgotten, but Wormtail knelt between her legs and forced her thighs apart.

Voldemort winced as Wormtail thrust himself deep inside her with a cry. Hermione was horribly awake and conscious of the pain as it ripped open the damage made by Crabbe and Goyle. She arched to lesson the pain and focused her scream into her head rather than through her mouth. This was a quick fix, not a slow, delectable meal, and he pushed his erection again and again into her unwilling flesh. He was not nearly as large as Crabbe or Goyle, but it made the experience, right in front of her enemies, no less awful. She did not know whether the shame of the traitor's possession of her or the open display was more mortifying. She could not stop screaming in her head and crying, and she had to bite her tongue not to beg to him.

When he spent himself on her, he slumped against her and murmured, "Can I borrow her sometime?"

Lucius laughed. "You've one taste of one inexperienced Mudblood. Taste one of my more willing sluts in the Harem. They are open to you. I will break this one in first. When I am finished with her, yes, you can borrow her, if you still want her. I'll have grown tired of her."

Hermione closed her eyes, fighting the urge to vomit what little food she had from her stomach. Quietly, she began to sob. From Head Girl to sex slave. And she began the Dark Arts to counter the Dark only to find herself catering to any Dark wizard's whim.

A thin wooden object slid back into her grasp, her wrists still tied behind her. Without looking back, she merely shut her eyes tighter and yielded in a sigh. "Sanspareo."

A rush of wind whipped through Voldemort's mind and unlocked the shackles connecting him to her well-being. All the frustration and repressed will culminated into a pure loathing of what had once been her control over him. The wand was yanked from her hand and another wand point bent the tender flesh of her neck.

"Crucio," Voldemort muttered. There was never a more beautiful sound at any point in history than the new screams unleashed from her mouth, far more high-pitched, louder, and more anguished than any he had heard from her before.

Finally, as the pain became too intense for screaming, he lifted the spell, and Hermione curled up like a fetus, eyes tight shut, and limbs shaking like switches. He had never seen her look lovelier. He dragged her to her feet and flung her at Lucius. He caught her easily and held her close to the length of his body. Her mouth was pressed to Lucius' breast by a firm hand. His other hand dug painfully into her hip.

"Take her and break her, Lucius. Break her completely. When she has finished her training with you, you will bring her to me. Understand? I want to see what she will become--I want to look into her empty eyes."

"When I am through," Lucius acquiesced, burying his nose in her newly fragrant hair, "you can have her."

"Perfect," Voldemort said. And without a second glance, he walked away with Hermione's wand that had negated what small bit of power she had lorded over him. But Hermione did not care anymore, even as Lucius led her from that room to his own quarters, and Wormtail said to her as she left, "You're no better than me."

~888~

"This way, Headmaster," Snape muttered. Professor Dumbledore, Lupin, and Harry followed Snape cautiously. Never had any of Lucius' enemies walked so successfully through the front door. Thank Chrestomanci for Dumbledore's Extension on the Invisibility Cloak. The Malfoy butler recognized Snape by sight and thought nothing of his strolling in unannounced. It had happened many times before.

Once they were in the dungeons, they threw the Cloak off and began searching through the dungeons. There were five full floors with two dozen cells down the sides of each aisle.

"I believe she is on the second floor. At least, I heard noises, a cough that seemed female," Snape whispered.

Harry marveled at Snape's focus. He had not snapped at Harry once during the entire evening. If anything, Snape was ignoring him.

They had finally realized it had not been Hermione's Dark activities that had made her disappear. Belthazar had never turned up, they noticed Hermione's books and clothes were gone, and added two and two together. Even then, it had merely been speculation. Until Snape had finished the tests and confirmed that the Nightmare Potion had not been polluted, then heard through Death Eaters that Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter's best friends, had been kidnapped, they were not completely sure. When they finally heard of her being taken forcefully rather than willingly, there were a few sighs of relief that immediately stifled themselves as they were informed of the nature of Malfoy dungeons.

Harry did not understand why he was invited on the rescue mission. He had tripped twice on the way and nearly caused Lupin to fall from the cover of the Cloak. Because of his inexperience in successful espionage, he was only a hindrance. He wanted to save Hermione, of course, but at stealth, in the middle of Malfoy Manor, he was more likely to attract the enemy rather than avoid him.

A few rats ran along the edge of the wall and into some of the cells.

"I don't like this," Lupin whispered, watching the progress of the rats suspiciously. "It's far too easy. And Peter could be any of those rats."

"I'm leading three Gryffindors to save another Gryffindor from languishing in her cell," Snape said. "How do you think I feel?"

In spite of himself, Harry gave a wry grin. "Think of it as an opportunity to insult more Gryffindors."

"I'd rather not have the Gryffindors and not have to think of witty insults for them," Snape replied. "Welcome to the second floor. Farthest dungeon. It's one of the coldest."

"You've memorized the dungeons?" Harry asked.

"It's obviously useful. Miss Granger?" he called in a low voice, giving the words time to reach her in echoes. A high whimper answered him.

"Hermione?" Lupin called.

A low sob.

Snape crooked his finger and they walked down the aisle.

"She's not responding with words. That may mean it's not her. Be cautious," Snape muttered.

Snape peered around the corner into Hermione's cell.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione was curled in the corner with the thin blanket around her, eyes closed tight.

"Abrio Des," Snape murmured, and the cell bars slid to the side. "Miss Granger?"

"Hermione?" Harry asked, stepping forward. "Are you--argh!"

His scar burned wildly like it had been branded.

"Voldemort!" Harry shouted through the haze of pain. "It's a trap!"

Lupin snatched Harry from the cell opening and put him behind him. All four put their wand at the ready.

At their initial surprise, the Glamour wavered then shed from the real tableau. Wormtail replaced Hermione on the floor, and Voldemort stood next to him, grinning. There was a glint of quiet delight in his eyes.

"Hermione is not here," he said, idly toying with his wand. "Were you perhaps misinformed, Severus?"

Snape lowered his wand. He knew Voldemort was aware of his treachery, and taking a definite stand for either side would topple his precarious position balanced between Voldemort and Dumbledore. It all depended on how long Voldemort would accept his obvious pretense.

"My lord." Snape inclined his head. "I merely came to spit at the child when these leeches attached on."

"You used to be much quicker, Severus," Voldemort mocked. "I would have half-believed you five years ago."

"Why don't you tell me what to say? I've three of your greatest enemies here that I've 'secreted' to the Manor to rescue Hermione. What do you suggest?"

"Well," Voldemort mused, "you could say you intentionally led them here to walk into the trap I've set for their destruction."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "It works. Have at it, then." He stepped aside and let Dumbledore and Voldemort take center stage.

"You are fortunate your wit amuses me, Severus," Voldemort said. "I would have killed you long ago otherwise."

"For what?" Snape replied smoothly.

Voldemort turned his attention to Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry to say that your dear little Hermione has joined me, as I had suspected she would from the day I met her in the Forbidden Forest last year. She was collecting liliaths." Lupin started in surprise. "Oh yes, Miss Granger has become quite adept at the Dark Arts over the last two years."

"I don't believe you," said Dumbledore.

"Why ever not?" Voldemort asked, laughing. "She collected all her clothes and books for the sole purpose of asking to become one of my followers. I can tell at a glance it isn't me she wants to follow. She deludes herself that one day she will be more powerful than I. But I will tolerate her until then."

"Where is she, Tom?" Dumbledore asked. His face was like carved stone. Only his long beard moved in the cold drafts.

"Most likely moaning under the body of one of my Death Eaters," Voldemort answered, "trying to make them all love her. She has researched the most potent sex spells. She'll be the pet in no time. I find her childish antics entertaining among the adults."

"Hermione--Hermione would never do anything like that!" Harry yelled from behind Lupin. "She--she thinks it's degrading. She wouldn't..."

"She's slept with me twice, Harry Potter," Wormtail chimed in, enjoying the privilege of being able to say the words.

"Despicable," Lupin spat. "I can see in your eyes that you've raped her twice. Hermione, no matter what you say to me, would never yield herself voluntarily to a sniveling traitor like you, Wormtail. I saw her, you forget, in the Shrieking Shack when you begged for her mercy. She found you revolting then, and she's had four years to hate you even more. And to think I once defended you from James and Sirius when they were right all along."

Wormtail was momentarily stricken, but his umbrage settled back into a self-satisfied demeanor.

"Believe what you will, Hermione has joined us of her own free will," Voldemort said.

"And say what you will, we will not believe you," Dumbledore replied.

A flicker caught his eye. A rat in the corner. He could see the tail through Wormtail.

"You're not here either," Dumbledore said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm insulted, my lord," Snape said dryly, "that we are not worthy of your full presence."

"How obtuse do you think I am? Just Wormtail and I in an enclosed cell with few conceivable exits? A number of my Death Eaters are waiting for my signal even now. And I never bluff. I'll tell Hermione hello for you, Potter. We'll share a laugh."

Wormtail's and Voldemort's image disappeared.

Footsteps echoed through the dungeons, heading their way.

"Headmaster," Snape muttered, "I know a way out of the dungeons, but... it may not still be here and we would need to go toward the Death Eaters."

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "can you fit through the window? The second you're out of the Manor, I can Disapparate you."

Harry guessed the width of the window then ran into the cell and climbed into the niche. He looked back at Dumbledore, who joined him at the window.

"I'll Disapparate you to the edge of Hogwarts grounds. You'll be safe within the boundaries there," Dumbledore instructed.

Harry nodded in compliance. Even now, his eyes betrayed his hurt.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, "we'll get Hermione back. If she had really joined him, he would have shown her in the illusion to truly taunt us. And Wormtail was too proud of himself for Hermione to have gone to his bed of her own free will."

"That means she's still been kidnapped, tortured, and raped," Harry replied savagely.

"We'll get her back," Dumbledore repeated.

The footsteps and shouts were closer.

"Go now, Harry, jump." Dumbledore stared into Harry's eyes. "Trust me."

Harry searched the bright blue. Then he turned around and leapt from the window.

~888~

Hermione lay curled up in an armchair with her knees against her chest. She started her training with Lucius in nothing, but after a few weeks she was permitted an immodest nightgown that halted its transparent film halfway up her thighs and halfway down her breasts. It felt better than being completely exposed.

Lucius liked her to rest in the afternoons for their nocturnal lessons. They took place in Lucius' bedroom despite Narcissa's occupation. Hermione learned quite early that the condescending, well-bred Mrs. Malfoy did not enjoy the little Mudblood's presence in the least. Narcissa endured one night of the bed shaking on Lucius' side before she moved into another room.

He would not let her rest in his bed. He wanted her in the chair--it pleased him to watch her unfurl. He was standing above her now, waiting for her to wake up. She was enjoying the few minutes she had total control over him. Soon he would grow impatient and shake her 'awake,' but until then he would just content himself looking at her.

In Lucius Malfoy's quarters--Hermione had never been allowed near a window, so she did not know where it was--Hermione had a number of freedoms that dealt with her appearance. House-elves brought her food; she could take baths in Lucius' tub because he enjoyed smelling his soap and his shampoo on her skin and hair; she used Narcissa's vanity to style her hair every afternoon. She was allowed one pair of scissors to cut her hair. Occasionally, if Lucius was feeling generous and she was willing to perform, he would bring her books--unproductive fiction, but it was something to occupy her mind during the long afternoons. The first two weeks, Hermione's head had been saturated with thoughts that longed for an outlet, and these books provided the necessary release.

His fingers curled around her shoulder and shook her. Hermione opened her eyes to him so easily he knew she had been awake for quite some time. Without speaking, he took her hand and pulled her from the chair. The sight of her legs lengthening and the skin of her breasts glowing to his eager eyes always jolted him. Lucius had never spent this long on a subject before, but he still enjoyed her body, and she proved to be skilled and well-trainable at every task he set before her. She had learned early not to oppose him. The marks he had left on her back and shoulders still ached from the first three weeks of resisting.

Lucius wore only his dressing gown, and his white-blond hair spilled over his shoulders. Gently, he brought Hermione against him.

"Wormtail has been asking for you," Lucius murmured, brushing his hand over her hip. "I think you made quite an impression on him."

"Aren't there other girls for him in your Harem?" Hermione muttered sullenly.

"He finds particular satisfaction in you," Lucius said as his touch extended to her buttock and the back of her thighs.

"He wants me," Hermione spat, "because he can never really have me, and I represent someone he cannot attain."

"The Dark Lord never mentions you."

"I don't want him to," Hermione lied. She wanted to know when she would be able to leave Lucius. To her understanding, Voldemort was not interested at all in women.

"You want to leave me for him," Lucius said, stroking her hair and leading her to the bed. "You think because he doesn't have sex he will be safer than I. Don't think you can hide your disgust of me from your eyes. I've seen the eyes of too many sex slaves to misinterpret the gleam in your eye when I do this."

He pushed her onto the bed. She momentarily lost her balance but sat up as quickly as she could. If she remained against the dark blue comforter with her body sprawled on her back long enough, Lucius would want to take her fully. When she stayed upright, he would know she was ready for his own personal preference.

Lucius folded back the covers and removed his robe. Propped against the pillows he waited for her. When she did not come, he whispered, "I've a new book for you today."

Hermione's eyes lit up, and at her delight, Lucius beckoned to her. Like always, her face fell as she crawled over him. Lucius guided her hand to him and reclined back, letting her ply her new trade. When Hermione finally lifted her head, Lucius' eyes were closed and he was controlling his breathing.

"You know what you're doing," he said heavily, "you're ready, but you still have a stubborn streak."

"Lucius?" Hermione asked. "I don't understand." He had, the first night, ordered her to call him Lucius--the Dark Lord was her master, and Lucius bowed in deference to Voldemort's supremacy.

"Yes, you do." Lucius grinned and pulled her up so she straddled his lap. "You've yielded to me because you can tolerate my desire. The question is if you can tolerate anyone's desire."

He gently pressed his lips against hers, quickly progressing the kiss until she was gasping for the little breath he afforded her. He wrenched himself away to focus on removing the poor excuse of clothing from her.

As he caressed her breasts, he continued, eyes growing a deep blue the more insistent his hands were. "If I gave you to my lord, you would no doubt lapse back into your former ways. If you can prove to me that you can obey orders in bed from another man, maybe I'll deem you ready."

His mouth closed over the tip of her breast and he shifted until she was underneath him. He ran a hand up her thigh and stroked her. Almost immediately, Hermione began the rocking motion he expected.

"For instance," he murmured against her shoulder between kisses, "I know you feel very little when I treat you this way, yet you can go through the motions very well."

Once again his mouth slanted over hers, and it was not until he had sated himself that he concluded his speech.

"Only Wormtail would not be able to tell the difference," Lucius said thoughtfully, "between your pretense and the genuine article."

Hermione's eyes, which had been closed with her head pillowed against Lucius' chest as he wanted her to, flew open.

"That distresses you, Hermione," Lucius taunted. "Yes, you would be perfect for him to indulge in his fantasies. That will be your last examination, little Head Girl. Don't fail."

He raped her one more time. Hermione found it almost a relief that Lucius was so predictable to the point of being mechanical. She was even rather surprised. Who would have thought a Death Eater would be so uncreative?

Every night he would rape her five or six times. What he lacked in creativity he made up for in stamina. Without fail, Hermione would ache in the morning. The way he touched her, she could accept him inside her if she did not move against him too much, but it still had a degree of discomfort because she felt nothing but vague, disconnected disgust. Hermione knew that the only reason she had been able to make it through the days was this emotional alienation. She had thought of her past a grand total of four times, and each time, she burst into inconsolable tears that would not abate until Lucius' footsteps began down the hall. But even though she shut out as much as she could she would occasionally catch a glimpse in her mind of jade green eyes or carrot red hair.

~888~

Wormtail was on the floor, breathing heavily against Hermione's shoulder. It took him several minutes before he slid from Hermione. Lucius Malfoy, from a chair on the other side of the room, clapped.

"I've never seen a more passionate coupling, Hermione," he sneered. "You're a credit to Gryffindor."

Hermione sat up on the floor, her eyes blazing.

"Ah, so I didn't beat all the spirit from you," Lucius said, finding her anger arousing. He had found a replacement for her, though he would not spend as much time with the Muggle as he had with the Mudblood. Then again, the Muggle was never going to see the Dark Lord like Hermione was.

"Should I take her to our lord?" Wormtail inquired, buttoning his trousers.

"I'll give her to him tonight after the feast," Lucius answered. He watched hungrily as Hermione arranged her hair. With her arms raised, he received the most tantalizing view of her breasts.

"Wormtail, you are excused from my quarters," he murmured. Hermione lowered her arms in surprise; then, as she realized why he had issued such an abrupt dismissal, she turned her back on him, which Lucius found just as appealing.

Wormtail eyed them jealously, but he left as ordered--quarters were exclusive to invitations. But he could not resist one last look as Lucius approached Hermione from behind.