Walburga Black's smoky eyes pierced hers. If looks could kill, Hermione would be lying motionless on the floor right about now.
"I think I hired you piece of filth to clean my house didn't I?" Her eerily calm voice sent shivers down her spine. "So why, slave, are you standing there doing nothing? I want all these floors cleaned before the hour is out. Then, you can polish all the ornaments in the drawing room…" she pointed a long bony finger at her. "But wash your dirty hands before you touch anything. I do not want my house honour becoming infected by a mud blood."
Hermione glanced at her, eyes wide with disbelief. Had she really just heard that? What the hell was going on?
She raised her head arrogantly. "Follow me slave. I will show you your sleeping headquarters."
She marched through the hallway and opened the door under the stairs. Looking inside, it was not a cupboard as Hermione had expected. There was a spiral of dusty steps which led down to some kind of attic. Whatever it was, she couldn't see it. It was in total darkness.
"Now. Before you start, I would like to make a few things clear," she said in a sick sweet voice. "You are a slave. Like a house elf, you are bound to the Noble and most Ancient House of Black, so you must obey us at all times. If you choose not to, I will be more than happy to introduce you to my dear friend Crucio."
She cracked a wicked smile and carried on.
"You are to be up at six o'clock sharp every morning to start your chores. You will sweep and mop the floors until they are shining. Polish the ornaments. Make the beds. Clean the kitchen. Chores are to be finished before dinner at six pm. My family do not want to see your face, so you will return to your chamber and stay there. Kreacher will serve you food if he feels you are working to a satisfactory standard. Now, go down," she ordered her. "Kreacher has left your new clothes there. Change into them. If you are not up and cleaning in two minutes, you will be meeting Crucio sooner than you think."
Hermione found herself struggling to breathe. She had chores. She was a slave. She was bound to the House of Black! This couldn't be possible…
"GO!" the woman barked.
"Okay-"
"YES YOUR HONOUR!" she shrieked.
Then Hermione was shoved down the concrete steps, the door slamming straight after her. The steps seemed to go on forever. She rolled and plummeted down them, her arms and legs a tangled mess. She smacked her head against the wall several times before landing with a final crash at the bottom.
She lay sprawled on the floor like a broken rag doll.
Her muscles were screaming with the strain and judging by the purple swelling forming, she had broken her wrist. Clenching her teeth, she somehow managed to heave herself on to all fours.
So she had travelled back to 1976, become a slave for the Black family and broken her wrist all in the space of ten minutes. What else could possibly happen to her?
Voices could be heard from upstairs, and she choked back her sobs so she could hear them.
"...I could tell she was one of them as soon as I saw her. Who does she think she is, walking in Knockturn Alley? She's dirtying our territory Orion!"
"So you brought her back home and made her our slave?" a deep voice said, "do you know anything about her? She may be a very able witch-"
"She's not a witch," Walburga insisted. "She's a mud blood. She smells like one too…"
She said something under her breath that Hermione didn't quite catch, but she had a feeling it sounded awfully like 'muggle perfume'.
"When you searched her," the male voice of Orion said, "did she possess a wand?"
"No. I searched her everywhere. She had nothing on her."
"Very well, I will inspect her now. It shouldn't take too long. Afterwards, I must go and collect the boys from Kings Cross."
"Certainly dear."
Hermione had no recollection of stepping foot in Knockturn Alley let alone coming face to face with Walburga Black. As far as she was knew, she was given a pocket watch and travelled back in time by accident. A wave of relief rushed through her when she realised that she had somehow 'missed' their first meeting at Knockturn. Walburga had clearly groped her in some way in an attempt to find her wand, but obviously the cruel woman had not searched her everywhere, because she still had her wand. It was hidden and tucked away in her bra. She had always kept in there in case a dangerous situation came about. Like this.
She withdrew it from her secret place with her uninjured hand.
"Lumos," she whispered.
The room brightened immediately and Hermione stared around her. She was expecting the room to be bad, but this was ghastly.
The floor was damp and dirty, the ceiling was matted with cobwebs and so low anyone over 6ft would've had to duck to move around. When Walburga said 'sleeping headquarters' she thought it was some indication that there would be a bed.
There wasn't.
Instead, there was thin blanket chucked on the floor with a small lump of a pillow on top of it. Her new clothes (a white dress that looked more like a sack) was also there, along with a candle. That made her laugh. It was as if Kreacher had looked around the room and almost felt sorry for her. And so, (thinking that she didn't have a wand) he had left a candle in there so she could see. A candle! The shittiest source of light ever.
She hid her face in her hands. How did she get in this situation? She didn't know what to do. What could she do but wait till the day she went back to her own time? Nothing was the answer. She would just have to live it out as a slave. She had read in a book somewhere that you couldn't live in the past for more than a year. So she wasn't going to be here forever. She could get through it. After all, she'd been through worse…
With a new kind of determination, she undressed as a quick as she could, trying not to scream out loud when she accidentally knocked her wrist. It was her right wrist that was broken, her wand hand. She could barely perform the 'Lumos' spell earlier, let alone a healing one, which was much more difficult. She had to accept that for the meanwhile she was going to have to put up with it somehow. Sighing, she wriggled into the sack-like dress that Kreacher had so kindly provided for her, making sure that her wand was still tucked in to her bra and out of sight. At least she didn't have a mirror so she wouldn't have to see her reflection…
"SLAVE!" Mrs Black screeched.
Hermione rushed up the steps, her body filling with more dread the closer she came to the door.
She opened it.
"SLA-! Oh. Here she is Orion."
Hermione swallowed hard as Orion Black approached her.
He was handsome like Sirius with dark waxy hair, pale skin and light grey eyes, except where Sirius's were warm and kind, his fathers were cold and menacing. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, and she dropped her eyes to her feet as he circled her with his arms crossed.
"Hmm," he murmured. "Hmmm."
She closed her eyes as she felt his body brush behind her. She felt like he was examining her body attractiveness rather than her 'slaving abilities'.
"What's her name?" he asked his wife.
"Slave."
He chuckled lowly and continued circling around her, feeling his eyes slide over her with an unabashed liking that made her feel sick. Her breath nearly hitched when she felt the dread of his hand stroke down her back. His skin was ice cold and sunk lower and lower, until it came to a rest on her arse. After a few more minutes, he moved back round to the front of her and to her horror, leaned forward and tilted her chin up to look at him.
"What's your name beautiful?"
She swallowed again. "H-Hermione."
"Ah, Hermione. That's a very pretty name."
A dark smile crept upon his lips and she felt him move closer. So close to her that she could see the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the bristles on his chin.
He dropped his gaze to her lips and stared almost longingly at them for ten seconds before standing up again.
"We'll have her," he muttered to his wife.
Mrs Black nodded and he strolled away.
"I'm going to get the boys from the station," he called, "Tell Kreacher I want the dinner ready for when I get back."
And with that, he left.
Mrs Black's attention instantly switched back to her - the slave.
She threw a cloth at her and snapped, "Get to work!" before turning on her heel and striding into the kitchen.
Hermione dropped to her knees and with her unbroken hand began to scrub, knowing that if hell was such a place, then she was as close to it as she could get.
Little did she know that it was about to get much, much worse…
So I told you guys I would write a Sirius/Hermione time-travel fic. What are your thoughts so far?
Let me know! all feedback is appreciated :) love Soph.
