idea_of_sarcasm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2006-04-12 04:33 pm
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2006-04-12 04:33 pm
Entry tags:
Waiting *PG* Hermione, Lucius
Title: Waiting
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
idea_of_sarcasm
Summary: Somehow, they’re each other’s worst nightmare.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Shocker isn’t it that I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own anything Harry Potter related?
Author’s note: First I was going to make it smutty, then I was going to make it dark….and then this came out for some reason. Forinell’s ‘locked in a room ficlet challenge’ – my drawn pairing was Hermione/Lucius. I don’t even have anywhere to post this.
******************************************************
“They’re not going to let you out, you know,” the words were mild, even if they held the inevitable sneer.
Hermione looked back from where she was rattling the bars of the cell and glared at the man sitting in the corner. “I still don’t understand what you’re doing in here. Why hasn’t Voldemort released one of his most ‘faithful’ followers since he now controls Azkaban?”
Lucius shrugged, and examined one of his nails, despite the fact they had lost their perfectly manicured look the second week the Ministry had imprisoned him. “Somehow accidentally getting part of my lord and master’s soul destroyed, and getting caught and then imprisoned at the department of mysteries, didn’t exactly endear me to the Dark Lord.” He never stopped examining the broken nail when he continued on. “So tell me Miss Granger, what’s your worst memory?”
She knew what he was getting at. “The dementors are gone Mr.Malfoy,” it seemed ridiculous, calling him by the respectful title. “They left the prison back in…..” her voice trailed off, fear in her eyes.
“To follow he-who-is-too-powerful-and-magnificent to be named,” Lucius nodded, raising his voice loudly for the last part, for the benefit of any of his former comrades who may have been nearby.
She stared at him disdainfully, “You expect that to work?”
He shrugged, “Not, not really. I don’t think the all-powerful dark lord will be here himself anyway, at least not yet. But grovelling can’t hurt. At least I’ve got a better shot at getting out of this sane than you.”
“I don’t think my sanity will be an issue, it’s more my life that’s at stake,” her voice was dry as she flopped down on her little mat, leaning against the wall. She was shocked at how calm she was, given the circumstances. “Muggle-born….Potter supporter…..female…..not exactly the qualities Voldemort will want around in his new world order.”
“No, he’ll keep you alive too,” his words were reassuring, even if his sentiment wasn’t. “He knows it’s just a matter of time before Potter comes in foolhardedly with some reckless scheme to get you out. And the dementors and the cruciatus curse will keep you painfully occupied until then. So, like I said, think unhappy thoughts……”
“Gee, thanks for the reassurance,” she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, like the child she had never been. “I know why you’re so composed though, you’ve already had to undergo the worst torture imaginable, for you at least.”
She knew he wanted to ignore her, even when she left her insinuation open ended. She watched even as he struggled with himself, trying to resist her immature mocking. He could recognize it for the perfect setup that it was. But, despite the fact this was Lucius Malfoy, years deprived of proper social contact could break even him, and he couldn’t fight his curiousity. Besides, they were locked in a cell together, there was no escape.
“And what is that?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow in a fashion she could never quite manage.
“All this time, with no shampoo or conditioner, or even a wand to do a quick spell on your hair……I’m surprised you haven’t gone mad already.”
He tilted his nose in the air in a manner that someone who had been in prison for months should not still consider their right. “Why would it drive me mad? You seem to have gone your whole life without those products, and it hasn’t seemed to effect your sanity for the worse.”
“Ha. Ha.” She replied snidely, wishing she could sneer as well as he did. In the top ten surreal moments of her life, this would rank right up there, along with getting captured by Gregory Goyle of all people – the boy with a brain the size of a peanut; trading sarcastic remarks with Lucius Malfoy in a jail cell.
They sat there, both looking anywhere but at each other until he spoke. “So, when can we expect the illustrious Potter to save the day?”
She just about corrected him, to point out that Harry would only be saving her, when she realized that wasn’t even true. “He won’t.” She replied bluntly, because it was the truth, at least for a good long while. It was absolutely none of his business about the fight she had with Harry and Ron, and the fact they thought she was safe at her parents house until she got over her anger at them. And Lucius didn’t inquire, because he couldn’t care less about the ‘why’, except that it extinguished any sort of pity save he might have gotten if that had occurred.
“So what’s your worst memory Lucius?” He was a death eater who despised muggle-borns, who’d been in Azkaban for close to three years, and she’d finally gotten around to avoiding the ‘Mr. Malfoy’.
He shrugged, and without even smiling replied, “The minute they tossed you in here with me.” He was the only man she knew who can keep such a straight face, and not betray any sort of emotion beyond a sense of superiority.
“I said worst memory, not fulfillment of fantasy,” she replied dryly. It had been years since she’d blushed at making those type of remarks, but she’d managed to take Lucius Malfoy aback all the same. For once, he seemed at a loss for words, or maybe it was just that he wouldn’t dignify a response like that with an answer. If it had been Draco in the cell with her a ‘mudblood whore’ comment would have been obligatory. He hadn’t yet learned his father’s restraint.
When they pulled her from the cell, fighting for all she was worth, Lucius was still sitting there, fascinated by his fingernails. She didn’t even think that he looked up when she clamped her teeth down on Peter Pettigrew’s wrist. And when they put her under the imperius curse and lead her away, he was still sitting there, probably still acting as unconcerned as the day he was sentenced to Azkaban.
She didn’t think of it, she had more important things to worry about at that point, but she knew that she would never see him again. He was dead, or as good as dead, and really so was she. He wasn’t good, far from it, but he was the only other person on the same side of the prison bars as her, and in this situation, that’s something.
She got her first kiss that night, a sick and twisted thing from Voldemort. She also got her second, from a dementor, and she saw Lucius again, even though he was not in the cell they tossed her into. Somewhere in between pain and despair, and the flashing of every horrible moment of her life, one slipped in of this man she barely even knows. She relived that moment at Flourish & Botts when he made her feel like something less than the dirt on his shoe; like she, her family, and everything she’s ever stood for will never be enough. And if she were conscious enough to truly think again, she would hate that he would have that much power over her from that one tiny moment.
If she were able to see Lucius’s mind during his first dementor’s caress, she might have taken some grim satisfaction out of it. The first memory he had to relive was the one that tortured him the most. The one where he first felt respect for her, at the same time he actually felt sorry for her. The first time he began to believe he might have chosen the wrong side.
************************************************************
Oh good God, I am now corrupted. I want to turn this – or something like this - into something longer, possibly multi-chaptered, but I won’t. It will stay as it is, really, and I will pretend this didn’t give me other ideas..
Author:
idea_of_sarcasmSummary: Somehow, they’re each other’s worst nightmare.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Shocker isn’t it that I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own anything Harry Potter related?
Author’s note: First I was going to make it smutty, then I was going to make it dark….and then this came out for some reason. For
inell’s ‘locked in a room ficlet challenge’ – my drawn pairing was Hermione/Lucius. I don’t even have anywhere to post this. ******************************************************
“They’re not going to let you out, you know,” the words were mild, even if they held the inevitable sneer.
Hermione looked back from where she was rattling the bars of the cell and glared at the man sitting in the corner. “I still don’t understand what you’re doing in here. Why hasn’t Voldemort released one of his most ‘faithful’ followers since he now controls Azkaban?”
Lucius shrugged, and examined one of his nails, despite the fact they had lost their perfectly manicured look the second week the Ministry had imprisoned him. “Somehow accidentally getting part of my lord and master’s soul destroyed, and getting caught and then imprisoned at the department of mysteries, didn’t exactly endear me to the Dark Lord.” He never stopped examining the broken nail when he continued on. “So tell me Miss Granger, what’s your worst memory?”
She knew what he was getting at. “The dementors are gone Mr.Malfoy,” it seemed ridiculous, calling him by the respectful title. “They left the prison back in…..” her voice trailed off, fear in her eyes.
“To follow he-who-is-too-powerful-and-magnificent to be named,” Lucius nodded, raising his voice loudly for the last part, for the benefit of any of his former comrades who may have been nearby.
She stared at him disdainfully, “You expect that to work?”
He shrugged, “Not, not really. I don’t think the all-powerful dark lord will be here himself anyway, at least not yet. But grovelling can’t hurt. At least I’ve got a better shot at getting out of this sane than you.”
“I don’t think my sanity will be an issue, it’s more my life that’s at stake,” her voice was dry as she flopped down on her little mat, leaning against the wall. She was shocked at how calm she was, given the circumstances. “Muggle-born….Potter supporter…..female…..not exactly the qualities Voldemort will want around in his new world order.”
“No, he’ll keep you alive too,” his words were reassuring, even if his sentiment wasn’t. “He knows it’s just a matter of time before Potter comes in foolhardedly with some reckless scheme to get you out. And the dementors and the cruciatus curse will keep you painfully occupied until then. So, like I said, think unhappy thoughts……”
“Gee, thanks for the reassurance,” she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, like the child she had never been. “I know why you’re so composed though, you’ve already had to undergo the worst torture imaginable, for you at least.”
She knew he wanted to ignore her, even when she left her insinuation open ended. She watched even as he struggled with himself, trying to resist her immature mocking. He could recognize it for the perfect setup that it was. But, despite the fact this was Lucius Malfoy, years deprived of proper social contact could break even him, and he couldn’t fight his curiousity. Besides, they were locked in a cell together, there was no escape.
“And what is that?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow in a fashion she could never quite manage.
“All this time, with no shampoo or conditioner, or even a wand to do a quick spell on your hair……I’m surprised you haven’t gone mad already.”
He tilted his nose in the air in a manner that someone who had been in prison for months should not still consider their right. “Why would it drive me mad? You seem to have gone your whole life without those products, and it hasn’t seemed to effect your sanity for the worse.”
“Ha. Ha.” She replied snidely, wishing she could sneer as well as he did. In the top ten surreal moments of her life, this would rank right up there, along with getting captured by Gregory Goyle of all people – the boy with a brain the size of a peanut; trading sarcastic remarks with Lucius Malfoy in a jail cell.
They sat there, both looking anywhere but at each other until he spoke. “So, when can we expect the illustrious Potter to save the day?”
She just about corrected him, to point out that Harry would only be saving her, when she realized that wasn’t even true. “He won’t.” She replied bluntly, because it was the truth, at least for a good long while. It was absolutely none of his business about the fight she had with Harry and Ron, and the fact they thought she was safe at her parents house until she got over her anger at them. And Lucius didn’t inquire, because he couldn’t care less about the ‘why’, except that it extinguished any sort of pity save he might have gotten if that had occurred.
“So what’s your worst memory Lucius?” He was a death eater who despised muggle-borns, who’d been in Azkaban for close to three years, and she’d finally gotten around to avoiding the ‘Mr. Malfoy’.
He shrugged, and without even smiling replied, “The minute they tossed you in here with me.” He was the only man she knew who can keep such a straight face, and not betray any sort of emotion beyond a sense of superiority.
“I said worst memory, not fulfillment of fantasy,” she replied dryly. It had been years since she’d blushed at making those type of remarks, but she’d managed to take Lucius Malfoy aback all the same. For once, he seemed at a loss for words, or maybe it was just that he wouldn’t dignify a response like that with an answer. If it had been Draco in the cell with her a ‘mudblood whore’ comment would have been obligatory. He hadn’t yet learned his father’s restraint.
When they pulled her from the cell, fighting for all she was worth, Lucius was still sitting there, fascinated by his fingernails. She didn’t even think that he looked up when she clamped her teeth down on Peter Pettigrew’s wrist. And when they put her under the imperius curse and lead her away, he was still sitting there, probably still acting as unconcerned as the day he was sentenced to Azkaban.
She didn’t think of it, she had more important things to worry about at that point, but she knew that she would never see him again. He was dead, or as good as dead, and really so was she. He wasn’t good, far from it, but he was the only other person on the same side of the prison bars as her, and in this situation, that’s something.
She got her first kiss that night, a sick and twisted thing from Voldemort. She also got her second, from a dementor, and she saw Lucius again, even though he was not in the cell they tossed her into. Somewhere in between pain and despair, and the flashing of every horrible moment of her life, one slipped in of this man she barely even knows. She relived that moment at Flourish & Botts when he made her feel like something less than the dirt on his shoe; like she, her family, and everything she’s ever stood for will never be enough. And if she were conscious enough to truly think again, she would hate that he would have that much power over her from that one tiny moment.
If she were able to see Lucius’s mind during his first dementor’s caress, she might have taken some grim satisfaction out of it. The first memory he had to relive was the one that tortured him the most. The one where he first felt respect for her, at the same time he actually felt sorry for her. The first time he began to believe he might have chosen the wrong side.
************************************************************
Oh good God, I am now corrupted. I want to turn this – or something like this - into something longer, possibly multi-chaptered, but I won’t. It will stay as it is, really, and I will pretend this didn’t give me other ideas..
no subject
no subject
Thanks for reading!
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject