Vacivitas

Chapter Nineteen

WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC TORTURE: burning, cutting, Cruciatus, and whipping

I want to warn you this chapter as well as the next two have extremely extremely dubious consent content. It's where the voyeurism tag first comes into play. Some may consider it noncon but I have done my best to lay a dubcon foundation for that scene.

This chapter and the next are nearly dead dove territory, so prepare.

Doom & Gloom Dance Gavin Dance

Chapter Nineteen

Several jeers ring out from different voices, both male and female. They ask for awful things. Nightmares made real. Things that make her skin crawl and her heart stop. Like she's an animal for the slaughter. Something to watch die.

She feels so alone.

"One at a time," Dolohov calls, his voice booming around the room. "Let Draco choose."

"And do be quick about it," Voldemort says. "Dinner calls to me."

Hermione starts to tremble when she sees Malfoy rising to his feet at the corner of the room. There's a silence before she hears him say, "Rowle. What do you want me to do?"

"Burn her." This man's voice is gruff. Leery.

"Where?"

"Right there, where her dress stops. Between her tits."

"Done."

Hermione looks up right as Malfoy descends on her, grabbing her by the braids and ripping the chignon apart. He wraps his fingers around the braids and yanks hard, tugging her head to the side and then slamming the back of her skull against the stone ground. She sees stars, but she maintains her composure enough to try to push his hands away.

He straddles her waist, pushing her hips flat and withdraws his wand. He casts a sticking charm, gluing her hands to the floor beside her head. She's trapped.

When she looks up into his eyes, she sees nothing. They're completely and totally devoid of life.

Just like the false Malfoy in her memories.

The tip of his wand touches her skin right as he whispers a curse. It starts as an itch, one that's unscratchable, and then it intensifies. It gets stronger and stronger, until it hurts. Her skin cracks, peels, and blisters. The burn spreads out at the sides, eating away at the skin on her breasts. Through the pain, she hears the crowd cheering, hollering like it's the most exciting thing they've ever seen.

She's strong enough not to scream. Instead, she lets out a series of whimpers. Her heels slide on the marble as she kicks her legs, wanting it to stop. But as hard as she fights, Malfoy is immovable. A statue. He hasn't broken a sweat.

"Goyle, my old friend," he says, looking over his shoulder, tone sounding cruelly gleeful. "What do you want?"

Goyle stumbles over his words, sounding just like he did when they were in school. He never had seemed like the type to want to take part in tormenting anyone, clear back when Malfoy was a prattish bully roving the halls of Hogwarts.

Hermione's eyes look up at the ceiling.

Is Malfoy strategizing, choosing those who he knows would have tamer punishments than others?

Clever Slytherin git.

"Out with it, Goyle, you bumbling fool!" Bellatrix hisses. "I want to go to dinner."