Draco Malfoy set down his copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, chuckling slightly. The story was so off, so untrue, that he couldn't help but to laugh, especially at the ending. But, as the author had told Voldemort, it wouldn't do to have Muggles know everything about their true history. They might become suspicious. Besides, a Squib had to make money somehow. True, the Dark Lord had considered killing her, but it would be too obvious. So they dealt with the untrue story of Harry Potter who was, in fact, dead.
If Draco was perfectly honest with himself, there was a lot of truth in the books. The essentials were there. The romances were there. But the epilogue was way off. Actually the last few chapters were all way off, although Longbottom was a prime candidate for the position of the next Herbology teacher. But it had not been nineteen years, more like five. The biggest thing wrong with the books was that they never explained the other side's reasoning for hating Muggleborns. No one had ever stopped to ask a Death Eater why they felt the way they did. Had they, the Death Eater in question would likely have made a pot of tea and sat down to explain to them their reasons.
The more Muggleborns kept coming into the Wizarding world, the more Muggles were finding out about the Wizarding world. These excited children couldn't help but leak the news to their little kiddy friends, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to track down everyone they'd told. There were also many kids whose families abandoned them for having powers, and these witches and wizards became bitter. They often tracked down their families later on in life and made theatrical displays for the general public to see, while trying desperately to destroy their family's happiness.
The Death Eater would explain that during the Dark Lord's time at Hogwarts, it had become regular practice for the Ministry of Magic to have to Obliviate twenty Muggles a week, and they were almost all due to Muggleborns in some form or fashion. Of course, if the Muggles weren't so prejudiced, none of this would have had to occur. So it became the Dark Lord's frame of mind that both were highly dangerous to the Wizarding world's way of life. Then the Death Eater would admit that yes, they do enjoy torturing people, but all is fair in love and war. The Death Eater would then have ended the conversation by telling them to take that information and think on it, and they would be sent an owl in a few weeks to see if they wanted to be recruited to the Dark Lord's side. After all, Death Eaters' could be quite reasonable when they wanted to be.
Draco also loved how the book had portrayed him. True, he was an arse to people. However, he did not have a problem killing Dumbledore. In fact, he'd done it quite well, and all the half assed attempts described in the sixth book were completely fictitious. He'd killed Dumbledore on the top of the tower, no problem. The Dark Lord had explained to him that it was essential to winning the war. Take down their symbols of hope one by one, and they would have nothing left to rally around. Therefore, the opposing side would eventually start to eliminate themselves and recede quietly. It had all made sense and still did.
Draco thought the Dark Lord might have a sense of humor after all. He had indeed laughed when he'd read what he was supposed to look like. It was nothing short of slander. He looked exactly the same as he did when he was a teenager: The glory of being immortal. As for the Horocruxes… well… everyone had gotten the number wrong. He had about twenty of them hidden, so losing a few hadn't been so terrible. Potter never stood a chance really.
Draco sighed, stretching luxuriously on his beige futon. He would have to get ready for the auction of the prisoners; he wanted to get his hands on a specific one. Doing so would lead to him getting vital information on the whereabouts of a few resisting and hidden members of the Order of the Phoenix. He still remembered the exchange he'd had with the man about a week ago.
He'd been surveying the prisoners, helping to decide which ones would be fit enough for auctioning off. Most of the females would be, though he didn't want to think about how they would be treated. He knew what would happen to them, and he didn't partake in that sort of activity. It made him sick to his stomach, if he were being perfectly honest.
The stench in the dungeons was getting to him. Women and men alike were lying in their own urine, feces, and vomit. Many of them had no willpower to get up anymore. There was constant screaming all around him. Women were being raped, as were a few of the men. Mothers woke to dead children and cried in despair, begging for death to take them. He'd been walking briskly, attempting to leave as soon as possible, when a bald man had called to him.
"Malfoy! I have information on the Order!" Draco had stopped in his tracks and slowly pivoted. The man clinging to the bars of his cell was almost bald and so dirty that Draco couldn't have know who he was from where he was standing, twelve feet away. Draco slowly approached the bars, trying his best to ignore the man's tattered robes and ungodly stench. As he drew closer, he could note the man's wild brown eyes and saw that a few strands of red hair remained.
"Please, Malfoy, my daughter… I know there is an auction coming up. Buy her… buy her and I will tell you everything you wish to know. I'll give you information now and after. Please," he begged, tears falling down his face.
"Weasley, isn't it?" Draco was confirmed with a furious nod of the man's head. "Why should I take your daughter, aside from the fact that you will give me information? Why not someone else?"
"Please, she's still a virgin. I… I… we've all heard the rumors, that you won't participate in… the… activities that the other men do. She still has some innocence. I don't want that stripped away from her. She's a Pureblood! Oh please! I'm begging you! Don't let them take my baby like that! Don't let them hurt her like that!" Arthur Weasley had slid down into a crouching position and was sobbing freely. In the corner Draco saw his wife and one of their sons, Ron, as well as the Mudblood Granger, and Ginevra Weasley herself who was wearing a vacant expression. All the others were looking at him with begging expressions on their faces.
"Please, Malfoy," Granger spoke up, edging cautiously towards the bars, "there's a condition called Stockholm Syndrome. After a long period of time a person who has been kidnapped or taken hostage grows to care for his or her captor. She would not fight you forever. She might even… come around to… your way of thinking. Please… that's my sister-in-law…." She trailed off, mud all over face, her hair matted worse than ever. Her clothes were threadbare, though Ron had given her his cloak as well, and sat huddled against his mother in just a shirt and pants that could be seen through. There was one cot in the corner, and they somehow all had to fit into it.
Draco considered what they were asking of him for a moment. They had the most vital information against the last resistance. Somehow they had all learned to fight Veritaserum and the information could not be extracted. They also were skilled at hiding their thoughts. If he were to do this and get this information he would be the most valued servant twice over. He would be secured for life. Voldemort was very generous with those who provided the needed intel for him.
On the other hand this was a Weasley, a blood traitor, though not a bad looking one. To bring her into his home… to have to care for her… it wasn't a very good thought. Although admittedly, he would eventually be in need of a wife, and Malfoy's only took virgins. Seeing as there weren't too many of those in stock, this could be a good opportunity for him. He was certain she would clean up well enough. Besides, he could always resell her if he ever felt the need to do so. She would fetch a much better price than he'd paid for her originally once he cleaned her up. This could all work to his benefit well enough.
"Okay, Weasley, you have yourself a deal. So tell me a bit of what you know." Draco stood there for ten minutes as the Weasley rattled on about how certain members of the Order were attempting to bring in back up from the Western hemisphere, as well as overthrow the Statute of Secrecy, although he wouldn't name who they were quite yet. Draco took careful note of everything he said, knowing that this was more than even the Dark Lord had imagined. If they brought back up, then there might be a chance of Voldemort being defeated. The American wizard's were brutal people, after all, and they had many reinforcements. If the Order found a way to contact them…
"This information is good enough to grant your daughter a ticket to my estate. At the auction next week I will purchase her, although I find it ironic that you would throw away everything all of you have ever stood for over one girl." Ginevra didn't stir as Draco spoke, staring at her with curiosity in his eyes. For the first time, the mother spoke.
"It is no less than what I am sure your mother would do for you, if in our position. She is our only daughter and, if she stays here, she will not last through the oncoming winter. There is no way for us to win this war in that short amount of time. I will not sacrifice my child's life for people I barely know, people who abandoned us to be captured. They have lost our allegiance." Mrs. Weasley's gaze was firm and her voice held conviction. It was true, Draco knew, that the Order had felt that sacrificing the four remaining Weasleys would allow them time to escape. They had done it for the 'greater good'.
"Very well," Draco said, speaking softly as he often did when he'd just come out of his thoughts. "I will come to collect her next week. No one will dare outbid the Dark Lord's right hand man. However, if you do not provide the names and last known whereabouts of these people you have mentioned when I come to collect her, then I will hand her over to someone and allow you to watch what they do to her. Is that understood?" They all nodded furiously, and he knew he had insured that he would get the needed information. He would be untouchable after this, after-
Draco got up slowly, shocked out of the memory by the clock chiming. He hurriedly grabbed his black cloak and went to the bathroom to ensure his appearance was impeccable. He had a reputation to uphold after all, even if he was purchasing a filthy blood traitor. When his white-blond hair fell perfectly over his eyes and his cloak was adjusted just right he Apparated to the auction house.
Although it was August, the sky around the red stone building was dreary and bleak, although the mood wasn't. Death Eaters were excited about the auction, happy to get their hands on slaves of their own. Draco calmly made his way through the crowd of men and women all dressed in black, some even wearing their Death Eater masks for the occasion. As soon as he stepped into the auction house he was surprised at the well decorated interior. It spoke of richness, although why he'd be surprised was silly. Anyone wishing to attract Death Eaters would make sure their business was lavish.
Draco took a front row seat as the auction began, and the first person was brought out onto the wooden stage. Draco recognized her as one of the Gryffindor Chasers from when he was at Hogwarts. Katie Bell, the girl he'd "supposedly" given a cursed necklace to through someone else. The thought was laughable at best. Why not just owl the necklace to Dumbledore if he wanted him dead from a gift? She sold for a hundred galleons, as she wasn't an attractive girl and had been taken many times by various men.
Next was Sarah Fawcett, an attractive Mudblood whom he recognized as being a Ravenclaw from his year. She went for fifty galleons, and he was sure the woman who purchased her would torture her daily while treating her like a house-elf. Draco didn't object to torturing Mudbloods. He wondered if he would torture Ginevra himself, but knew he most likely wouldn't. She wouldn't fetch a great value if he decided to sell her after that. They all ended up going mental from too many sessions of torture. That lessened their value greatly. Simple retreating into one's self eventually could be fixed, as Granger had pointed out. Insanity could never be cured. Longbottom's parents were a prime example.
A few more women, and even a man or two, were auctioned. Draco paid no mind to these and sat staring at his nails. He wasn't concerned with them or their well being, they had all brought this upon themselves. They'd been given many opportunities to turn away from the Order, or to at least pledge their allegiance to no one. They could have been neutral, allowed to do business with both sides and keep going on about their everyday lives, but they had refused to do so. Therefore, they faced their punishment for conspiring to bring down the Wizarding world.
When Ginevra Weasley crossed the stage Draco Malfoy looked up, still sitting lazily. He was confident no one would outbid him. He had more money than any of them, firstly. Secondly, having killed Dumbledore gave him certain privileges. He had control over many, many people.
"Ahhh," the auctioneer said, grinning wickedly. He was simply a profiteer, no one of importance, who had made his living the best way he could. "This one is a beauty when she's cleaned up. Ginevra Weasley, Pureblood. She may be a blood traitor, but only to an extent. She's still a virgin, lads." Cat calls went up from the audience. Ginevra's dirty hair fell down her back almost to her waist, though it would be longer if it weren't so dirty and matted. Her brown eyes were incredibly vacant, and she almost looked dead due to her eyes and the combined paleness of her face. The only part of her they'd cleaned was her face, actually. Her robes were worn through, which was supposed to help sell her. After all, the men wanted a preview of the goods before they bought them.
"One hundred galleons!" a woman called out.
"Two hundred galleons!" a man named Jugson yelled excitedly.
"Five hundred galleons!" the woman screamed, obviously wanting to buy a servant.
It was silent for a moment, and then, "Six hundred galleons," Draco said, not bothering to yell. He knew he would be heard by everyone.
"Seven hundred galleons." The woman dared try to outbid him?
"Eight hundred galleons."
"Nine hundred galleons." He could feel the woman's glare. It wasn't his fault if she didn't have an old family house that came with a house-elf like his did.
"Two thousand galleons," he simply stated. There was silence and then a thin bit of muttering, obviously wondering why Draco was buying the youngest Weasley.
"Are there no other bidders?" The auctioneer looked disappointed. He'd been hoping the bid war would continue so he could profit even more. When no one said anything, the auctioneer banged down his fist and screamed sold. Draco walked on stage to retrieve his goods, and then he Apparated them back to the prison, prepared to question Arthur Weasley very thoroughly.