Long time no read, my dearies. Been very busy these past weeks. Once again, sorry if this chapter's not spellchecked, but I'm currently moving and ain't nobody got time for dat. So, please, close your eyes, curse me thrice, and ignore it if you ever see any errors!
Just before we begin, just a word. I have received a certain number of PMs and reviews (since taken down) criticizing this story. Now you're very right to criticize. Of course this story isn't perfect. I'm always interested in hearing constructive feedback. But what surprised me was the fury in those reviews. A bunch of very angry, very lonely, modern-day feminists seem very unhappy with the way this story is going, aka: that an overtrained thief isn't bowing over backwords to his captive enemy. Shocker! Now, I agree that for now, Hermione isn't kicking butt all over the place (we'll get there), and Draco is kinda cold towards her, because obvious reasons. Do I necessarily need to receive rape threats over a piece of fiction? I think not. Of course there is inequality in their relationship- it's a captor/captive one. They. Are. Not. Equals. I'm not explaining any further to a bunch of people who believe that they should rule the world and prosecute thought crime because they have a vagina. Guess what? I have one too. That doesn't make me special. So I suggest that you take your ridiculous threats, shove them up your behind, and go back to feeding your cats or grooming your armpit hair or whatever it is that you useless drains of society do in your free time. Meanwhile, my readers and I shall return to our story and then get on with our lives until next chapter, because we have greater goals in life than sitting around screaming for social justice, all the while being unable to proceed in life because of those misogynistic female fanfic authors or the sexism among anteaters or the patriarchal system among waterlilies or whatever the hell you people care about. If you insist, I will have Draco kill off Hermione in the next chapter in the most horrible way possible. I watch Game of Thrones. I have ideas.
Now, on with the chapter!
...
Hermione's sword cluttered to the ground for the third time in as many minutes and, stifling a sigh, the Princess bent to retrieve it, tucking a random curl out of the way. However, a boot landed on the blade, stilling it. The young woman glanced up at a strange-looking Harry Potter, who frowned at her.
"Hermione, what the hell is your problem today?"
A brief sight of the Captain and her stupid servant kissing came to her mind, followed by the thought of what had surely happened during the night, when she and Blaise were sitting in a stone corridor, comforting each other with their mere presence. Who had he gone to bed with? Parvati? Daphne? Another woman? Probably Parvati, she decided bitterly. They had surely celebrated the young woman's consecration.
As for herself, Hermione had realised that Blaise got the bad idea about her feelings for the Captain. He thought she was in love with him- as if she'd be a pathetic, lovesick fool running after the blonde master of the underground! She'd explained to him that she felt betrayed by Parvati, and he'd seemed reassured, but sad.
"So you think Parvati is a traitor to you because she's having a close relationship with one of us?" he'd whispered, and betrayal shone in his own onyx eyes.
"No, not really...I don't know. It still hurts that she's doing it...I mean...I get along with most of you, but...a small part of me can't help feeling as if everytime I smile at you, I am spitting upon my heritage, upon my family."
"You're confused," he'd nodded wisely. "Ripped between two loyalties."
She hadn't answered. It was better that he believe that than if he knew that she wasn't loyal to them. She still had one sole wish, to return home, to join her palace and her father. She didn't want to stay in Slytherin's Pit, and every passing day made it harder. She was a captive, and couldn't forget that fact. Of course she adored Harry, and most of the others, but she was being a traitor herself while indulging in such friendships. It had to stop.
And it would end today.
"Feeling a bit tired," she sighed, leaning on the blade.
"If you're not up for training, you can have some rest," Harry grinned and she couldn't help a smile. She'd heard that Harry and Ginny had kissed at the ball, and she felt very happy for them. Knowing that Harry wanted to be with his new lover right now, and deciding that it was time to set her plan into motion, she heard herself answering,
"Don't worry, I will go back to my room alone if you want." He frowned, worried, but she soothed him at once. "It's eleven in the morning, Harry, there are crew members all over the place. Couldn't escape even if I wanted to."
"All right," he muttered before joking,"just don't try or the Captain will tie my guts to a flag pole and march around the desert with it."
She grinned and sauntered up to a dummy, setting it into motion before swinging her sword to its ribs. Harry turned, sheathing his own sword and humming a tune, and her face fell as she mouthed to his retreating back, "I'm sorry."
As soon as Harry disappeared, Hermione sprung into action. She set the sword to a side- it was too big a weapon for her to carry around. She needed something lighter. Setting her mind upon a wicked-looking dagger, she sheathed it in her belt, thanking the Heavens above that training sessions required her to wear a black catlike suit instead of her puffy dresses. Then she started crossing the underground, walking in plain sight towards her room, ignoring the crew members who passed her with suspicious glances. As soon as she reached the corridor where her room was, though, her behaviour changed.
She continued her route towards the exit of the underground, melting herself into the dark stone recesses of the corridors, moving swiftly and silently as though born to be a late night hitwoman. Her heart was beating faster than she'd imagined it able to, bursting in her chest, and her throat burned out of panic. However, by some miracle, she managed to stumble into the Lake Cave, and once again took the thin dirt track on one side to cross the watery hole unscathed. Once she had managed that, she arrived upon the exit, and kicked her pace up to a slow run, bursting out into the desert.
The light of day burnt her eyes and, stifling a cry, she leaned back against a rock, trying to ignore the scorching heat. She knew she wouldn't be able to cross the desert in the middle of the day. She didn't have any water and the sun would make her sick. She'd have to wait for the fall of day to make a move.
Once her eyes were able to stand the light without hurting too badly, Hermione looked around at the rocky settlement, and, taking the time to cover her tracks in the sand, she proceeded to one of the rocks, which offered some sort of cover from sight and heat if she managed to slip underneath a ledge. Gulping and praying that no snake had decided to make this a den, Hermione lay down and rolled under the ledge, booted feet feeling around for any sign of unwanted life. There seemed to be none, but she lay quietly, not moving, waiting. After a while, she allowed herself to relax and, heat and boredom helping, she finally dozed off.
…
When the Princess finally woke up to the sound of hooves, she realised that the sun was setting, and night time would be coming. She would finally be able to make a move. Curious, she peeked from underneath the ledge, and saw thirty or so horses thundering out of the entrance to Slytherin's Pit. Some of them set off, by twos or threes, into different directions, covering the ground. Others stopped, as well as Hermione's heart for a few beats. She recognized Ginny's flame red hair as the young woman's horse reared up. Ginny didn't bat an eye.
Finally, a man spoke. He was hidden to her sight by the ledge, but his icy cold voice, easily recognisable, was enough to send shivers down the Princess' spine.
"Find her," he ordered, his voice throbbing with barely contained fury. "And if she is not alive, I will personnally torture and kill every man and woman whose negligence led to her escape."
"Aye, Captain," came the soft answer before horses and riders bolted into the night. Only Draco Malfoy, Ginny and another man stayed.
"If she tried crossing the desert during the day, she's already dead," stated Ginny, her voice thick with- what, exactly? Worry?
"In that case," spat the Captain, "be assured that your new boyfriend will be first in line to die."
"I'm sorry, Captain-" Harry's voice muttered, but the blonde interrupted him.
"No, Potter. Sorry is what you will be when I'm done with you. How could you let her out of your sight for more than a second, you fool! She's almost fully trained. Can you begin to imagine the havoc she can wreak when she's with her father!"
Then, the horses picked up speed and the three disappeared from Hermione's sight. Blowing out a long breath and trying to ignore the twinge her heart made when hearing Harry's despair, she pulled herself out from her hiding place and stretched. This time she wouldn't bother about covering her tracks. Time was of the essence, and the wind, picking up slowly, would make sure she wasn't followed.
And thus, Hermione set out across the desert at a steady pace.
.
Harry sat at the table in the Dining Cavern, staring gloomily into nowhere as he rubbed his glasses against his dirty shirt for the third time in a minute. Footsteps attracted his attention, and he raised his head wearily.
Ginny, looking exhausted, slipped into the chair next to him. They sat for a long while in silence before he finally spoke, his voice a mere croak.
"Did you find her?"
Ginny sighed and set her kind, warm gaze upon him.
"No. The Captain will call off the searching in the morning- that's two hours away- and then..."
"Then," Blaise's voice finished for her as he marched into the room, his dark face whitened by the sand and dust of the desert, "we prepare for war. Seamus has already left. He's going to find pirate ships so we can begin evacuating the citizens."
Harry felt sick to the stomach. He had compromised the lives of hundreds of innocents, of elders, of children, of the disabled, so he could spend five more minutes in Ginny's arms. He had been willing to give them all up for his lover's touch.
And because he had never imagined that Hermione would betray him. Betray them. He thought that he'd been getting somewhere. That he'd managed to touch her, that she'd switched loyalties.
He was a fool.
Blaise and Ginny were silent. It only made matters worse. He would have preferred that they yell, that they scream at him, that they physically hurt him. He would have preferred that Blaise, his old friend, punch him senseless, that Ginny would scream that she never wanted to see him again. Instead, the redhead put her hand on his lap, making soothing circles with her thumb. As if everything was all right.
But it wasn't.
A furious warcry, as though a bull was charging through the underground, erupted from the corridor as the Captain suddenly made his entry, followed by a worried-looking Theodore and Pansy. Draco made a bee-line for Harry, caught him by the neck, and punched him. Once. Twice. Three times- a sickening sound made him realize his nose just broke and yet, the punches kept coming. It took Blaise and Theodore's joint efforts to rip the blonde leader off his friend as Harry stared, dazed.
"You fool!" Draco snarled, eyes murderous. "You bloody, fucking fool!"
Ginny produced a small pot of ointment from her pouch, as though she had been planning for this, and approached Harry, silent, as Draco Malfoy continued to scream.
"You could have us all murdered, you idiot! Innocents are going to die at her father's hand, and all because of you!"
Harry pushed Ginny away and bounced to his feet.
"I'm sorry, all right!"
"Sorry? No, you'll be sorry once I chop your stupid head off and send it to her as a birthday gift!"
"Oh, really? Then come on, do it! Do it, Captain, but that won't change anything!"
"Won't it? I think it would," Draco yelled, still struggling against Blaise and Theodore's grasp. "It might appease her fucking father, wouldn't it? And I am sure that she'd be glad to put your head in a jar and show it off to foreign princes as the head of the fucking gullible fool who thought that she could be trusted!"
"I don't think she'll tell her father about us..." Harry muttered weakly.
"Of course you don't think, Potter, you've got shit for brains," Draco snapped. "That little snake is going to be the end of us. I should have had her ordered dead weeks ago, when she first arrived, because idiot and idiot two here thought she'd be a good trade! What do you believe she's going to tell her father, you moron? That she spent the better part of two months wandering around the desert drinking cactus juice and eating scorpions?"
"She might hate you, but she doesn't hate us," Harry began getting angry himself. "She doesn't hate Ginny, or Blaise, or Pansy, or Theo! She said she loves me as a sibling!"
"Oh, so the daughter of our worst enemy batted her pretty little lashes at you and you fell for her crap, good job, Potter. You two bloody deserve each other. Well, since you love her so damn much, how about this? She's going to fucking die, you fool."
"What?"
"If the desert doesn't get her first- and I'd be surprised since she's a clumsy child- when she gets back and once she's done selling us out, the King's going to have her killed. You know why?"
Draco didn't expect an answer. Instead, he turned and slammed his fist into the stone wall, hurting himself without caring. He was furious, furious against her, against Harry, against the world. He was worried, as well, worried for his flock, and, strangely enough, worried about her.
"The King married Lavender Brown this morning, while your sweet little sister was busy escaping," he hissed without turning back to look at Harry. "Three guesses why he married her earlier than planned, Potter?"
Harry's heart plummeted to his stomach as he realized the danger Hermione had unknowingly put herself in. Despite her betrayal, he couldn't help but worry about her.
"Lavender's pregnant," he whispered.
"Right, Potter," Draco answered quietly, his anger suddenly leaving him. "She's pregnant. And Lavender's child, no matter male or female, will be a far better heir than Hermione Granger in the King's eyes."
A long silence came over the room, before Dean suddenly rushed in.
"We've got her trace."
"Where?"
There was a long silence.
"Cormac's gang."
Harry's eyes widened as Blaise groaned.
"Oh, shit."
…
Hermione suddenly came to, realizing that she struggled to breathe. Her head was pounding, and all she could see was pitch black. She felt that her head was covered by something and her hands raised of their own accord to rip off the offending material. She stopped when she noticed that her hands were snugly bound together. She could feel movement underneath her, and knew that she was on horseback. Her heart dropped. They had caught her again, and this time, she sensed that Draco Malfoy's revenge would not be limited to a few harsh words and training sessions. No, this time, she would be locked in a cell.
She bet Daphne was laughing, and that thought angered her.
Someone suddenly ripped the empty oat sack covering her head off, and she blinked. It was still night time, but she noticed the sun rising on the horizon to her left.
Still blinking, she looked around her. A dozen men on camelback surrounded her. She frowned. The rebels weren't equipped with camels, being only a few hour's ride from the capital. All of the men wore turbans, and veils protected their faces against the sun. The rebels did not wear turbans.
Still gazing around, she realized that behind her was a cart pulled by two tired-looking donkeys. Various goods were piled on top of the cart, as well as a cage in which two young girls were sitting, both incredibly beautiful- with long, cascading silver hair that reminded her of Malfoy's, and huge baby blue eyes. One of them was slightly older than her, and the other merely a child.
The rebels did not take prisoners. She was the exception and even then had never been forced to sit in a wooden cage, without enough room to stand.
The oldest girl looked at her, her arm around the younger one- probably her sister, Hermione thought, given the resemblance. They had obviously been crying.
"Well, well, well," a male voice to her right caught her attention. "Look who's awake. We would've put you in the cage too, but there wasn't enough space."
Hermione turned, and stared at the man who had spoken. He was tall, with brown hair and twinkling brown eyes. He could have been handsome, if his face had not been permanently distorted into a smug, superior grimace.
"I say, take the older one out and put the brunette in," interrupted another man ahead of them, glancing back at Hermione. "This one ain't half as pretty as the blonde, who cares if this one's damaged goods."
"The blonde one is foreign, as is her sister," the first one replied with an irritated hand gesture. "They don't make good conversation. But this one's local, eh, love?"
Hermione didn't answer that. Gripping the camel's reins between her bound hands, she simply asked,
"Who are you?"
"Cormac McLaggen, love, but just call me Cormac."
She studied him quietly as he grinned at her.
"You're not with Malfoy."
The whole bunch of men turned towards Hermione, some shocked, some apparently insulted.
"Of course we're not," Cormac answered with a rude snort. "I wouldn't fuck that one backwards with my own sword. Maybe with his." That elicited chuckles from his men.
Ignoring his foul language, Hermione tried to remember what happened. She had crossed the desert on foot. The silver and gold roofs of the palace had appeared far away. And then...and then, a sudden pain at the back of her head, and nothing. She shivered. She hadn't heard them approaching, even with Harry's training. They'd been stalking her.
Her heart fell. Harry. How was he faring? Could he forgive her? Had Malfoy killed him? No, she decided, the Captain would not hurt one of his own. They probably thought she was in the palace right now, reuniting with her family and helping her father mourn his first wife. They also certainly imagined she would sell them out. She could not blame them, of course, even though that idea was particularly depressing. She hated to think that Harry thought less of her. And Blaise. And Ginny. And Pansy. And Draco...
In truth, as she was crossing the desert, hope and joy at the idea of returning home filling her heart, she had managed to clock together a little story. She'd been abducted, but she'd managed to escape, and the kidnappers, who wanted a ransom, were all dead, killed by skilled merchants who had recognized her and brought her back home. Unfortunately, the merchants had not survived the desert.
She would never sell out Slytherin's Pit. Never.
She turned to Cormac.
"So are you bringing me back?"
Cormac stared at her, confused. Hermione bit her lip. She did not know who these men were and as such, she refused to give them her identity as Princess. Who knew what these suspicious-looking men who carted young women around in cages would do with that piece of information.
"Back where?"
"To...to Malfoy. He sent you, right?"
Cormac threw his head back, and bellowed his laughter into the night. Hermione waited patiently until he was done with his fit of laughter.
"You're a funny one, you are," he tutted, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "I told you already. Malfoy is no friend of ours."
She shivered, suddenly wary.
"Then what are you going to do with me?"
"Same thing as with those two over there," Cormac chuckled, pointing his thumb towards the caged sisters. "We're going to sell you."
"Sell me?"
"Oh aye. We're slave merchants."
…
Malfoy's grey horse thundered into the small seaside town, hooves grating over the slippery stones that paved the road. His face was just as thunderous as the racket the animal was making. Behind him, Harry, Blaise, Pansy and Theodore followed, faces stern as they rushed through the town, without slowing, forcing people out of their way as they risked being trodden to death.
Salazar's Bay was an ugly place to live. It was the rendez-vous of each and every pirate to ever touch Hogwarts' shores. As such, the town was a mêlée of the worst and the worser. Prostitutes, some barely women, operated in broad daylight in every street. Taverns only served beer and rhum, their only food being stale bread and rotten fish soup. Crime was rife as brawls burst out every other hour, people dying whenever and wherever those happened.
Draco Malfoy hated it. He did not come here unless he had no choice, and today was one such day. Darned Princess and darned McLaggen.
The small group rushed towards the port, where, as was the case every day, the throng gathered. The reason was very simple.
A beefy man, missing an eye, stopped in front of the horses, and Malfoy's came to a screeching halt, rearing up. Irritated, the blonde stared the man down.
"You're in my way, sea baboon. Move now or you will regret it," Malfoy ordered harshly.
The man merely laughed, picking his brown teeth with a rusty dagger. Blaise sniffed haughtily at such a lack of hygiene.
"Malfoy," the man spat. "Long time no see. You don't visit these parts much, now do you? What, are you too good for us? It's true that the price on your head is worth fifty of us poor little pirates."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, glaring at him. He did not know the man, but now was no time to teach him respect.
"Move," he ordered again.
"Don't think so," the pirate snickered, scratching his head with the dagger. "You wanna play, you gotta pay. Entry to the slave market is ten gold pieces per head. And don't you think about playing funny, sweetheart," he added as he noticed Pansy's hand straying dangerously close to a knife wedged in her waistband. "You do that and fifty men rip you to pieces."
Theodore snorted, eyeing the pirate disdainfully.
"Fifty? Is that it, you old piece of rat placenta? Triple the number. At least make it some fun for us."
Draco rolled his eyes. Things could quickly get out of hand with this lot. Instead of answering, he tossed a small purse towards the pirate, who ruffled through it before snapping,
"I'm missing twenty pieces here!"
Draco leaned forward over his horse's neck.
"Take it as it is, or make a scene and I will set her on you," he hissed, pointing towards Pansy with his thumb. Noticing the sudden lust in the pirate's eyes, he added with a cold smile: "Don't think you know her personally, but in these parts they call her the Lady of Blades."
The man's eyes widened and he hurriedly stepped aside.
"The fare has been paid," he loudly announced before disappearing into the crowd.
The small group set forward once again, Pansy muttering something about some people who just had to stop her from having fun.
They stopped a little further, scanning the scene from above the crowd, still on horseback. A stage had been mounted on the docks, where slaves were presented to the highest bidder.
"Over there," Harry suddenly hissed, pointing towards the beach stretching behind the stage.
He pointed towards the throng of tents that belonged to the different slave owners, waiting for their turn to present their goods. Malfoy's head snapped in that direction, and he too noticed the large buckskin tent, a tall, proud M drawn with charcoal on the flapping doors.
"Good," he replied. "Theo, keep the horses, and don't forget, her name is not Hermione Granger."
…
"You almost look better than Fleur," Cormac smirked proudly, gazing at Hermione. "If I wasn't sure that you'd sell for such a high price, I'd keep you myself."
She glared at him, her patience running thin. He had thought very clever to have her change into an almost see-through, mint green muslin bra and poofy pants. He'd ordered her to apply makeup and to unknot her hair, leaving it free to flow on her shoulders. She had rebelled against the ridiculous- and in her opinion vulgar- costume, but he had threatened her to send her out naked.
"I look like a whore," she muttered to herself, trying to pull the parts of her costume to cover more skin.
"That's a belly dancer's costume, not a whore's," he drawled, sipping his wine as he sprawled onto the cushions that represented a sofa. "A whore's dress would be very different indeed. That said, on such a prudish young girl such as yourself, you do look like a whore. And why else do you think the men out there would be willing to buy you?"
She blanched at that thought before casting a glace towards Fleur Delacour, the oldest of the blonde beauties. Fleur was wearing a silver ensemble similar to hers, and she was hugging her tunic-clad little sister as they cried silently.
"Stop crying, you idiotic girls," Cormac snapped, following Hermione's gaze. "You'll ruin your makeup."
Fleur glared at him.
"Good," she snarled in her broken accent. "Then maybe I won't find a buyer."
"If you don't," Cormac stated softly, "then I will have you for myself. And I must warn you, Fleur, that not all of my lovers have made it out of my bed in one piece. Oh, and a couple of my men have a...preference...for little girls. Such as sweet little Gabrielle, here."
She shivered and turned back towards her still sobbing sister, soothing her gently in their mother tongue. Hermione stared at Cormac, thoroughly disgusted.
"My father will kill you," she growled.
"I don't know who your father is, honey, nor do I care. All I know is that you're going to earn me a pretty little sum, and that's the sole reason for which an annoying, spoiled little brat such as yourself is still alive."
He smirked before adding darkly,
"Or at least, still in one piece."
The silence was only interrupted by Gabrielle's heart-wrenching sobs. Cormac clucked his tongue, turning towards the exit.
"Flint! Come and get these two. Return them to their cage. I cannot stand the sound of their whining!"
One of Cormac's ruddy men entered the tent, grabbed a hold of Fleur's luscious hair, and dragged her out, as a squealing Gabrielle followed.
"Finally, peace and quiet," Cormac muttered. "Now tell me, what is your name?"
"It is none of your business, as I have told you ever since you abducted me yesterday," Hermione hissed, tilting her head to the side. He shrugged.
"Slaves generally don't have any other names than those that their masters give them," he guffawed.
"Good," a voice boomed from the entry, startling them. "Because I have already given her one."
Hermione twirled towards the voice and almost started crying.
Never in her life had she thought that she would be happy to see Draco Malfoy.
And what a formidable sight he was. Standing tall, face thunderous, he was glaring at Cormac McLaggen as though he was a god, ready to impart punishment upon a disbeliever. The slave merchant spluttered, almost choking on his wine, before a sly smile took over his features.
"Malfoy," he all but purred. "Sit down, old man, and have a drink. I trust it you've met- ah- what's her name? She still refuses to tell me." He winked at Hermione. "There's one thing she can't seem to shut up about, though, and that's you. Thought you'd sent me to retrieve her."
Draco's face did not twitch, although the idea was amusing indeed. He would never team up with McLaggen. He despised slave traders. However, their paths had indeed crossed before.
"So," Cormac said after a moment of silence, his calculating eyes sliding between Draco and Hermione. "What's this name you've given her, then?"
Malfoy turned towards Hermione, his face hard. Her eyes widened as she realized something. He hadn't come to save her. He hadn't come to repossess her from the claws of this criminal. No, he was only here to make sure that she wouldn't tell anyone about Slytherin's Pit. That she wouldn't endanger them.
She crushed the small voice inside her that reminded her that he was here, no matter the reason.
His voice was as icy as his demeanor as he answered,
"Traitor."
Hermione winced and pursed her lips, but she could not explain here, not in front of Cormac, not like this- besides, she didn't need to explain herself, did she? She had escaped from captivity, the captivity in which Malfoy was holding her. Actually, was he any better than McLaggen in that regard?
Yes. The situations were not comparable.
Malfoy wasn't done with her, and each cold word touched her heart like a poisoned arrow.
"You two-timing, back-stabbing, hypocritical double-crosser," he hissed.
She diverted her gaze, the venom in his stormy eyes too much to bare.
"I was never loyal to you," she whispered, heart in her throat.
Was she lying to herself? Certainly not. So why did the guilt coursing through her veins like adrenalin make her want to throw up?
"Of course you weren't," he snarled, gaze harder than ever. "You're the most poisonous snake I have ever come across. You disgust me."
He meant it. She knew it. She disgusted herself, for some reason, and yet she met his eyes once again, angry at the whole situation.
"Why are you here, Malfoy? So that your little...secret...stays well kept? Don't worry," she bit out. "Even if I had managed to do what I had left to do, go home, I would not have compromised you."
"Ah, the word of my sweet, loyal lady," he mock-bowed. "How could I have ever doubted you? But tell me this, you stupid bint. How could you have looked Harry in the eye, called yourself his sister, and turned on him in the blink of an eye if you were so honest a person?"
She gasped.
"That...was low, Malfoy."
"Low? Five feet underground is how low we all would have been if your little escape plan had worked," he snarled before turning towards Cormac, who seemed thoroughly enthralled in their exchange. "I'm taking her with me, McLaggen, and if you or your thugs try anything to stop us we will have you all dead in the blink of an eye."
"Aah, Malfoy, no can do," Cormac replied, a twinkle in his eye. "I'm expecting to sell her for a very high price."
"Although she isn't worth a dime?"
"Not worth a- Malfoy, have you looked at her? The girl oozes sex. Why, I was just telling her that I was considering keeping her mysel-"
He did not finish that sentence. Malfoy's sword was under his chin before he could breathe, nicking his tanned skin.
"You were saying?"
Cormac smiled darkly.
"Not worth a dime, and yet, you're willing to kill me for suggesting that I want to fuck her, when you owe me a debt."
Malfoy stilled and Hermione stopped breathing as he slowly sheathed the weapon, glaring at the slave merchant as though he could kill him with a glance. The young woman shivered, suddenly dreadful.
"I could simply kill you, and be done with it," Malfoy growled.
"But you're not that kind of man, are you, Malfoy?"
The blonde leader clenched his fists at his sides. Hermione did not know what debt they were speaking of, but she did know that the Captain was a man of honor and that if he owed McLaggen something, he would repay him.
"How much is she worth in your eyes, then, McLaggen?"
Cormac took his sweet time answering that question. He sipped his wine, gazing into nowhere, before staring at Hermione, grinning thinly.
"Let's see. I'm going to sell her for a high price. Say...ten thousand gold pieces."
Hermione gasped in shock, but Malfoy simply raised an eyebrow.
"Done."
"No, no, my dear boy, you don't understand," Cormac smiled. "I'm going to sell her...but not to you. I will not hand her over to you. Your debt will be paid if you walk away now...without her. And if you try to win her at the sale, I will call foul and give her to the second highest bidder."
Hermione's jaw dropped as Malfoy's hand returned to his sword. Cormac did not seem impressed.
"Neither you, nor any of your followers, will buy her. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Hermione looked at the Captain and, although his back was turned to her, she could sense the tension in his body. Her voice rose of her own accord. She did not want blood to be shed. Not even McLaggen's.
"Malfoy."
He winced slightly but continued to stare McLaggen down, internally debating whether or not to murder a disarmed, non-agressive adversary.
"Malfoy, I...I'm sorry for running away. Well, no, I'm not. I don't regret that-"
"Granger," he interrupted. "You're not making any bloody sense."
She stared at his back. She could easily notice the muscles rippling under his tunic.
"Malfoy, what I'm saying is that I'm sorry if people got hurt because of me. And I do not wish for anyone to hurt. No more. Don't pull your sword for this- your secret is safe with me, I know that you don't believe me but- I really did care about you. Well, not you, but Harry, Blaise and the others- consider it my parting gift. Just go."
He turned on his heel, staring at her. She adverted her gaze but he was having none of it. In two long strides, he was in front of her, and softly but firmly grabbed her chin between his fingers, forcing her head up. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Look at me," he ordered in a quiet but commanding voice. When she didn't obey, he closed in slightly, pulling her against his chest. The sudden proximity surprised her, and she opened her eyes, immediately drowning in two pools of mercury.
"Granger," he whispered, low enough that Cormac couldn't hear them. "If he sells you on the market, you're going to go to an owner who will not let you stroll around underground caverns as you please. He will not be interested in your well-being. You will never be free again. At best, you'll be a domestic servant. At worst..." he shivered, his grip on her chin tightening, "...at worst, you'll be his personal whore. He will take you with or without your consent. Maybe even give you to his friends so they, too, can unwind...some men aren't just contented by that, either. McLaggen maims his mistresses, Granger. He likes them blinded so they cannot see him coming, and then he strikes..."
Tears were slipping out of her eyes, but she answered somewhat meekly,
"But you cannot..."
"Don't speak of what you know nothing, Granger," he whispered sharply.
"Why do you care?"
The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. He stared at her with carefully guarded eyes.
Because I can't stand the idea of someone touching you. Of someone hurting you. Of another man on top of you, inside of you. Because you're my enemy, not their toy.
"Harry cares," he muttered. "Blaise cares. Theodore and Ginny and Pansy and Luna and Seamus and Dean care."
He let go of her abruptly and turned towards McLaggen.
"No."
Cormac's eyebrows shot upwards as he leaned forward, squinting.
"No? Excuse me. Did you just say no?"
"Wait for me outside, Granger," Malfoy ordered calmly, without looking at her.
Hermione stumbled on her way out, staring at Malfoy, worried.
"Flint!" Cormac bawled. "Flint, get your arse in h-"
"Don't bother," Draco smirked. "Theodore never liked him."
But Cormac wasn't listening. His eyes were slanting between the Princess and the thief.
"Wait a minute...did you just say Granger? As in..."
"Oops," Malfoy tutted with a sly grin. "I can't go around compromising the ruling family, now can I? Granger, for fuck's sake, get out."
Hermione stepped out into the fresh seaside air as a swishing noise came from inside the tent.
The sound of a sword hitting its mark.
…
There we go, my lovelies! Please RAR. Don't forget: I love constructive critiscism, I don't want threats. I'll put up the next chapter once I've settled down in my new, lovely house! Hope you liked it,
DIL.