Chapter the Fourth

Draco sauntered towards the wooden door, leaving Hermione no choice but to follow him. Every step was laborious in her weariness and despair, but she knew better than to run- she doubted her body would support itself at any speed above a stagnating crawl.

Once at the threshold, Draco spoke a series of complicated words, causing the intricately carved door to swing forward. He glanced back approvingly at Hermione, who had followed him to the door. She hated herself for her surrender, but did not manage to find the strength to muster a retort. With an obvious show of being first, Draco stepped inside and a frightened Hermione followed close behind. The door swung back forcefully, yet made no sound as it shut. Hermione was trapped inside the house.

The open-space cottage was much larger on the inside than it appeared. The young witch recognized the spell as the same one she had used on her handbag this past year. Everywhere she looked reminded her of the reality she had been jerked away from: the roaring fireplace on her right looked like the one in the Gryffindor common room, the kitchens on the opposite side were a slightly newer version of Mrs. Weasley's, the chosen décor was strikingly similar to the one in Grimmauld Place, and the house elf scuttling by reminded her too much of Dobby. Hermione had a hard time holding back the tears.

Draco made no motion to acknowledge Hermione's fragile emotional state. Rather, he spoke to the house elf who was already removing his shoes, "Bring me lunch to my room in an hour or so, Sangue. I'll be taking my pet to bed. She will be under my charge- there is no need for you to care for her unless I specifically instruct you to."

"Yes, master. Lunch will be brought to you in exactly an hour. What wine do you wish with your menu?"

"I'll take a Spanish Tempranillo, there's an opened bottle of it already."

"Yes, sir," the house elf bowed deeply to Draco, but, oddly enough, not to Hermione. She was deeply confused and a little bit worried about this. Sensing her puzzlement, Draco finally gave her an explanation.

"Sangue was my Aunt Bella's house elf. She's Dobby's sister and has been taught not to bow to mudbloods and the like."

Hermione scowled at how easily Draco spoke of Dobby; Draco had seen him die! Dobby had been his house elf and he showed no concern over his death. With a shock she realized that Bellatrix was also dead, and Draco spoke about her just as easily. Hermione shuddered. How could Draco be so indifferent to pain and destruction? This was a bad omen.

Not aware Hermione had her mind elsewhere, Draco continued, "I inherited Sangue along with some other Black and Lestrange heirlooms. Auntie Bella was very generous with her more... fun... possessions." A smile creeped Draco's lips.

With that comment, Hermione snapped back into attention. This situation was getting worse by the minute. Before she could speak her mind, Draco picked her up and walked her towards the stairs by the back wall. The spiraling motion made Hermione momentarily dizzy so she didn't see the loft until Draco had already plopped her down on the wood floor.

A gigantic canopy bed sat in the center of the room. A small sitting area along with a small circular table with two chairs filled the empty floor space. To her right, Hermione saw a door she assumed lead to a bathroom. She did not have enough time to consider the room's details before Draco pounced.

Hermione's survival instincts kicked in as she fought Draco off. She pushed him away with her hands and feet, landing a kick to Draco's jaw. Her slippers flew out of her feet. Hermione's fists connected with Draco's arms and chest. Draco was not phased by her reaction and rolled himself over her middle. His legs to either side of her, he sat over her stomach. She tried scratching him, but his large hands soon caught hers and held them down over her head. Hermione's eyes were wide as she watched Draco for a sign of what he was going to do next.

From her position under Draco, Hermione could feel his already hard member. Once more, she feared for herself. Suddenly, she felt her nightgown disintegrate around herself. She blushed, clad only in her bra and underwear, and tried to cover herself. Draco held firmly to her arms and used his body weight to prevent her from turning. Sights of the inevitable filled Hermione's head and she gulped.

Holding both her arms with only one hand, Draco slid his free hand down Hermione's side. She shivered at the contact, tears beginning to run down her cheeks. When Draco reached around her back to unclasp her bra strap, she let out a quiet sob. Draco looked her in the eye, an unreadable expression in his face as he gradually pulled her bra up. He looked back down at Hermione's exposed breasts, staring at the small rounded mounds.

Draco's hand slid down further to remove Hermione's panties. The witch's face was streaked by tears, but she began holding back her sobs. Draco let go of Hermione's arms and moved off her to better view the area between her legs. Hermione stood still, preparing for what she knew Draco would do to her. She felt her panties slide down the entire length of her legs.

A blush colored Hermione's face as she noticed how intently Draco was staring at her curls. His expression was unreadable as he examined the untamed hairs that hid her vulva. Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to see Draco when he violated her. She just laid there, determined to not utter a sound, to not give him the satisfaction of causing a reaction out of her. She would not scream; she would face this with her Gryffindor pride.

Hermione felt Draco stand up and walk around her and completely remove her bra. His footsteps then echoed from the direction of the bed. Hermione herd something snap and her stomach did frightful flip. She felt herself break into cold sweat. Without a warning, frigid metal enveloped her throat with a loud clack. Hermione gasped and opened her eyes to see Draco storming out of the room.

She tried standing up to run for the door, but a strong pressure on her neck pulled her down. She landed on the wooden floor with a painful thump. After massaging her bottom and neck, Hermione inspected the heavy instrument Draco had placed on her. It was attached by a chain to a ring on the floor by the bed. It's length was such that she had a few square feet she could reach if she crawled. Hermione could only stand upright above the ring, everywhere else the chain's short length kept her from achieving a fully erect stand. After the instrument was deemed cruel and barbaric, Hermione resumed her inspection of the room. At the foot of the bed laid a large pillow and a dog bowl. Hermione could only stare for a few moments – Draco really meant it. She was his pet.

Hermione curled herself up in a fetal position on the floor. Naked and chained in Draco Malfoy's bedroom, she cried herself to a dreamless sleep.