Haeres Genitus: The Begotten Heir

Chapter Two: You're Not Planning on Dying Anytime Soon, Right?

When she woke up, Hermione was unsurprised to find herself slumped on a cold stone floor. She blinked at the dimly lit dungeon, trying to adjust her eyesight and gather her surroundings. "Ah, she awakes," she heard a voice drawl drily somewhere to her near left. Wincing as she attempted to lift herself into a sitting position, Hermione noticed her injured arm had been bandaged. Rather poorly bandaged, actually, but bandaged none the less. "Hello?" she called out softly, turning to the direction of the speaker. Finally, she spotted a tall figure sitting on the ground a few feet from her against the wall, looking almost at ease in his position.

Draco Malfoy smirked at her, entertained by her owlish blinking. He had long ago adjusted to the darkness. Stretching out his legs, he stood to walk to her, frowning at her arm. The blood continued to seep through his makeshift bandage he had torn from his own shirt. Bloody cursed knives. "Malfoy?" he heard her ask breathlessly but he detected a small note of fear. He held up his hands in a disarming manner.

"Relax, Granger, I come in peace. After all, it's not every day you get to be in the company of Gryffindor's unofficial princess," he chuckled, watching her face turn from wary to confused. He took the opportunity to kneel down next to her and sighed as she tried to scoot back from him. "I just want to check your arm, really, I swear I'll try and leave your virtue intact," he smirked at her indignation before she huffily thrust her left arm under his nose.

"There's a good girl."

After a moment's silence, she couldn't help it. "Why are you being nice to me? I'm the scum of the Earth, sullying your presence with my Mudblood germs or whatnot," she gritted as the fresh wound was exposed to air. She jerked her arm back when she was what was there.

MUDBLOOD

The bloody bitch had maimed her arm in large, childish print with a racial slur that was sure to scar nastily. She let a small sob escape her lips before clamping down. She couldn't let Malfoy see her cry over his favorite word etched forever into her arm. Hell, he probably thought it was rather funny she was branded like this. She saw no humor in his eyes, however, when she looked up. In fact, he looked rather sad for her.

"I can't get the bleeding to stop for too long. The knife she used was cursed…I'm sure it will eventually stop but not for a few days at least," he murmured, before grabbing the edge of his large shirt and began tearing another piece of it off into a strip. The amber eyed witch watched silently as he clumsily wrapped the new fabric tightly before tying a knot at the end. Well, she supposed he wasn't exactly used to bandaging up other people. Still, it was a decent job and for that, she was grateful.

"I'm sorry, you know," Hermione heard him say softly as he let her arm drop back to her gently, eyeing her for her reaction. "Sorry for what? Sorry I'm stuck in your glorious manor getting tortured to near death?" she asked unkindly, seeing him flinch. "Yeah, that, and the whole treating you like shit thing…Getting stuck in the dungeon of your own 'glorious manor' for months on end has a way of making you realize what an asshole you are. Get a lot of thinking time, you know?" he sighed, and gestured to the utter emptiness surrounding them. She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you are kind of an asshole. Huge, actually. Congratulations on your self revelation, prat," the witch snorted primly. Really, took him long enough.

Draco surprised her with a bark of laughter. "I never thought I would see the day when Hermione Granger was congratulating me on being a repentant asshole." She couldn't help the small twitch of a smile on her lips. "I guess stranger things have happened….have you really been here months by yourself?" she asked, curious at how he ended up on the wrong side of the cellar door. He shrugged. "After I failed to kill Dumbledore like I was ordered to, Snape fled with me back here. Unfortunately for us, the Dark Lord was less than thrilled. Snape was still useful to him….I was not. So, to teach me a lesson in obedience, I was locked in here…and I was pretty sure they had thrown away the key but than others started coming in here too. There were prisoners that the Snatchers had captured or people who had to be reminded of who was really in charge. When you got here, Dean Thomas and Luna Lovegood had been here for a few weeks. Ollivander, the wand maker, was here as well for about a month. Oh, and the goblin," he waved his hand dismissively at the thought of Griphook.

Hermione digested the information. Months. Malfoy had been down here for almost 11 months! "Merlin," she breathed out, overwhelmed with the thought she could be here for an indefinite amount of time. Suddenly, she felt pity for the young man in front of her. Asshole or not, he didn't deserve to be locked in a dingy dungeon for a freaking YEAR. "So now that we're best friends, any chance you can use that legendary brain of yours to get us out of here?" the blonde joked, hating the pity in her eyes, brief as it was.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Figures he would be nice to her to save his own ass. She adjusted herself to try and stand. Might as well get acquainted with her new home away from home. He stood quickly to help steady her, his hand cool to the touch on her elbow. "I think I'll live, Malfoy," she said smartly, using the wall to balance herself. Her eyes had adjusted rather well to the dimly lit surroundings, all her time in the Hogwarts library had prepared her for terrible lighting and squinting. "You don't plan on dying anytime soon, right?" he snorted, giving her the space she clearly wanted. "That's right," she shot back, walking along the wall and rounding a corner.

"Wouldn't want my new best friend dying on the first day, that's no fun. Haven't even had a chance to feel you up yet," he smirked at her stiffening back. Oh, this is going to be so much better than when Thomas and Looney were here….

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She had allowed him to continue talking to her as he followed her around the cellar he no doubt could navigate with his eyes closed. Allowing him her company seemed like a small price to pay for her bandaged arm and, if she were honest, she felt badly he had been alone in here for the better half of a year. Hell, he was probably accustomed to talking to himself rather than face utter loneliness in the dark, forgotten by your own family. So, Hermione allowed him to prattle on about the mundane goings on of what had happened when her friends Luna and Dean were here. He talked of Luna's father disobeying Voldermort and printing positive pieces about Harry Potter in the Quibbler, which is how Luna had come to be prisoner in the dungeon. Dean was captured by Snatchers for running from the Muggleborn Registration. He was only kept at the Manor because he was a known associate of Dumbledore's Army and friend of Harry Potter.

After scouring the dungeon, which was pointless since she was positive Malfoy would have been doing the same for months, the bushy haired witch slumped back down onto the floor in defeat. "You're the heir to this bloody place, isn't there anything you can do?" she asked, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. Draco snorted. 'Silly bint, does she really think I would be here for my own entertainment? How thick does she think I am?' he thought, shaking his head. "Seriously, do you think I'm touched in the head, Granger?" he asked aloud, slightly insulted. Hermione had the decency to lower her head in embarrassment. It really was an idiotic question.

Sighing loudly for her benefit, he gestured grandly to their surroundings. "I am the Malfoy heir, by blood, true enough. My father, however, is its current master and his will supersedes my own. I can't even call for a fucking house elf because the master does not allow it. My mother can't do too much for me besides keep me alive for as long as she can. I know my time is closing, Granger. At least you can make it entertaining," he smirked at her confused expression.

Hermione was rather flabbergasted. Here was the boy who in third year cried piteously when Buckbeak nipped his arm and wrung every last tear he could to get his way. The same child who Harry had caught sniveling in the haunted girl's loo last year because of what Voldermort would do to him if he failed in killing the headmaster. Yet, here he was, speaking of his inevitable death as if asked how likely he thought it was Slytherin would win the House Cup!

"How can you be so calm about dying? Not exactly a Slytherin trait let alone, a Draco Malfoy trait…." She trailed off, eyeing his seemingly easy shrug. "What can I say? I've had eleven months to come to terms with it. Even if Potter manages to actually kill the Dark Lord, what do you think awaits me? I let Death Eaters into a school full of children. I attempted to assassinate Dumbledore on several occasions and cursed innocent people doing so. Snape casting the spell that ended his life means nothing, I was the one who disarmed him and left him defenseless. It'll be a life sentence to Azkaban in the best case scenario. Personally, I would prefer the Kiss at that point. It's over for me, Granger." He finished quietly.

Hermione couldn't argue any of these points. He was correct on every level. He was Draco Malfoy, dead man walking. It was rather sad, really. Shutting her coffee colored eyes, she leaned her head against the slightly damp wall behind her. "Don't you go getting all SPEW on me now, Granger," his voice suddenly cut through her ears. Without missing a beat, she replied, "It's S.P.E.W. you inbred pillock."

She could practically feel the grin he shot her.

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