Chapter 11

The next few days passed like any typical day. There wasn't any discussion about what happened. It seemed that both decided that delving into the others' true emotion or intention was not helping either of them. Hermione tried not to think about it or the implications. Things immediately returned to the old routine. Draco would return late in the afternoon from wherever he went during the days. His bath, dinner, her bath, sex and sleep. It was a routine she could live with and she had the distinct feeling that she was altogether better off not challenging it.

Then one day, Draco returned earlier than usual, which messed Hermione's schedule up a bit. He was waiting for her when she got to his room. Waiting for her usually made him cranky but he was in a good mood today, which made her more concerned than if he was cranky. Things had either gone really well out there, or things were going to go really well for him in here.

Hermione went to clear his cloak from the floor to return it to the hanger. He watched her from the seat where he was nursing a whiskey and having a smoke. She hated the smoke, it stuck in her nostrils, but luckily the room was big enough to disburse it after a while. Hermione found things to do while he sat and watched. The other option was to stand and stare back, which would just invite whatever it was he was thinking of.

She had completely dismissed him saying he wanted her love as just something Deatheaters say after they try to strangle their slaves. Lucius has probably said it to Stina too on the odd occasion, she thought bitterly. Not dismissing it was something much worse to think about, but being the analytical person she was she couldn't keep the thoughts out. He had said something about wanting her back in school. There could be the odd chance that whatever this was ran a lot deeper than she had ever realised. Surely not, she thought. She could fully see how he might have had the odd fantasy about her. She was after all the part of the trio that he hated that he could actually..., such hatred was bound to develop a sexual component in hormonal teenagers. He still wasn't that far away from being a hormonal teenager; it had only officially been two years since he had been a teenager.

"Run me a bath," he ordered, waking Hermione from her own distracted musings. She complied and he followed her into the bathroom. "I have decided that one should make the best use of having a slave."

Hermione wanted to cringe from whatever was coming out of his twisted little mind. Previously all of his determinations of her job as a slave were sexual in nature. This would undoubtedly be something of that nature. Probably involving the bath.

"I want you to undress me and then you will get the privilege to wash me," he said, with the familiar little smirk.

Oh joy, Hermione thought to herself. Actually not too bad in terms of what she was expecting. Relatively tame really. She knew he liked being fussed over when in the bath. He liked having his feet massaged on occasion, while he chatted away about what was on his mind. What a baby, she thought.

She went to unbutton his white shirt and it felt really odd. She had never undressed anyone before. With Ron it had always been a hurried fumbling off with clothes, often in conjunction with kissing, tickling and copious amounts of laughing. Sex with Ron had been fun, sweet and tender. She didn't want to think of Ron when she was unwrapping Draco Malfoy like an unwanted present.

When she got to the end of the row of buttons she had to tug the shirt out of his pants. She had to undo the cufflinks before she could get the shirt off him. Only he would wear cufflinks, she thought as she fiddled with the tiny clasps. Silver with dragons carved into the onyx stones. With the cufflinks gone, the shirt came off easily when she pushed it past his shoulders. Next she decided to tackle the black boots and she had to get down on her knees to put enough pressure on the heel and toe to allow him to step out.

This left the undershirt and the pants. She didn't want to take off either. This was just ridiculous she thought. How could he be such a baby to want someone to undress him, she asked herself. She grabbed the soft cotton undershirt and tugged it out of the black pants. It was tight enough to require that her knuckles skimmed his skin all the way up his sides before it came over his head and shoulder. That left the pants, with the tidy black leather belt, which probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, when she had one that was. She knew he was watching her and she hated it. The pin came out easily, but the belt sat tightly on his hips. She had to place a hand on his hip to get enough leverage to pull it out.

Then the button of his pants that sat right on top of the little trail of hairs that went from his bellybutton down. It was actually hard to undo a button from that angle, she had to get her fingers in behind it, pressed up against the warm skin. His skin should be cold, she thought, it was more fitting if it was cold. Although she knew well enough by now that he wasn't, his body heat kept her warm at night.

Undoing the zipper was uncomfortable and she could tell that this was having some effect on him. She didn't want to pull down his pants, but she did it. She grabbed the cloth at his sides and gently slid the material down, making sure she got all material so she didn't have to repeat this with his boxers. She wanted to yank it down in protest, but she knew that he might be in a state where that could hurt. Physically hurting him would be much worse for her in the end. The pants were tight and she had to force the material over his thighs, knees and calves.

When he was starkers, he stepped into the steamy bath and lay down. Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. She didn't feel utterly humiliated, but neither was she detached the same way she was before. She was annoyed and angry. She picked up a washcloth and crouched down to start washing him.

"Oh no," he said. "You're going to have to get in."

"You're joking," she said glaring at him.

"I'm afraid I'm not." He smirked again. "Get undressed, you wouldn't want to ruin that pretty dress."

He was punishing her, she decided. Strangling wasn't to his taste, but he was aiming to humiliate her as much as humanly possible. She steeled herself against feeling humiliated, in fact she refused. None of this was her doing and she didn't have a choice. Why should she feel humiliated because something he was doing. She would not take responsibility for his actions.

She gritted her teeth and started to undress. He grabbed his wand and undid the bracelet, leaving it on the side of the bathtub. Her arm felt oddly light without its weight. She knew she didn't have a chance against him if she decided to fight. Even without a bracelet, he was much stronger and he had a wand which he kept well out of her reach.

She started washing her feet and decided that she would treat this as any other cleaning duty she performed. Thankfully the tub was much larger than the typical muggle tub so she didn't have to sit on him as she moved up his body. She avoided his private area, but she could tell that he was enjoying her ministrations. She rubbed the washcloth over his entire body, she even shampooed and conditioned his hair. He practically moaned when she massaged the lotion into his scalp.

"You are such a baby," she said and got a broad smile in return.

Finally she worked her way down his arms and finishing with washing his fingers. That left only one area, but he stopped her before she moved there and took the cloth off her. He quickly washed his privates and got out of the tub, leaving Hermione sitting there.

"Thanks, sweetheart, that was great," he said as he wrapped a towel around his waist. He grabbed the wand and walked out.

Now Hermione was fighting hard to keep the humiliation out. There was no reason she should feel that, she told herself over and over again as she got out and dried off. He came back fully dressed and replaced the bracelet.

"It's time for dinner. You're going to be late," he said stoically.

Hermione ran downstairs to prepare for the dinner service, damning him for making her late. She hated being late, her entire existence was about being efficient, effective and utterly detached. An automaton if you will.

She made it just in time for carrying out the soup course. There were four guests tonight including Professor Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange, so there would be little food extra for the creatures down below, including her. They were in a good mood, something had obviously gone well. Even Lucius was in a good mood and the alcohol was flowing.

"You should have seen them scurrying, Cissa," Bellatrix said, laughing. "Ran like rats, they did."

Mrs. Malfoy was obviously enjoying the good mood. Draco was as well.

"Now they know that nowhere is safe," one of the other guests said.

Hermione did her best to play the automaton she had decided to be so long ago. Mostly she was ignored, but one of the Deatheaters grabbed her behind while filling up his glass.

"Such a pretty mudblood," he said to the table, "You're lucky to have her."

Mrs. Malfoy was embarrassed by the statement and Draco was less than amused.

"Try to keep your crudeness in the gutter where it belongs," Bellatrix warned.

With that, they moved on to celebrate whatever it was they were all so happy about and forgot about her.

When dinner finished, they got up and left. Hermione started to clean up when the Deatheater who had manhandled her before returned.

"Such a pretty little thing," he said leaning on a chair.

"I have to clear the table please."

"Such things can wait," he smiled and started towards her.

On no, Hermione thought. She knew what was coming and there wasn't much she could do about it. Detached, detached, detached, she repeated to herself like a mantra. He roughly grabbed her arm and shoved her up against the wall. Hermione wanted to throw up. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, which probably stunk even without the alcohol. He grabbed at her breast.

"So comely."

"Like fuck," she heard Draco say from the door. "You don't get to touch her."

The man stopped, but kept his hand on her breast.

"That is a bit ungenerous of you," the man said. "Keeping a ripe little mudblood like this all to yourself."

"She's mine," Draco warned.

"You need to learn to share, boy," the man stated with steel in his voice before returning his attention to Hermione.

A thud made the man drop to the floor. Draco had hit him with a heavy crystal vase, which now had blood on its edge.

"I said, you don't get to touch her," Draco yelled. He proceeded to kick the man hard and continued to do so.

"You fuck," Draco screamed while continuing to kick the man with enough force to make a sound as the man's body connected with the wall.

He wasn't stopping. And the man must be getting more injured with each kick.

"Draco, stop," Hermione yelled. She shouldn't care, but she didn't like seeing the violence even if it was purebloods killing each other.

He still wouldn't stop, so Hermione resorted to pulling his arm as hard as she could.

The noise had attracted both Lucius and Professor Snape who both rushed in and pulled Draco away from the unconscious body of the disgusting man.

"What is going on here?" Lucius asked while surveying the scene. He looked from his son back to Hermione. "Have you lost your mind?" he asked Draco.

"Nobody touches her," Draco screamed, still in a fit of rage.

"Take him upstairs," Lucius ordered Professor Snape.

Hermione didn't know what to do. Whether she should go, stay and help the man or stay and clear the table.

"Go," he said and Hermione shot through the door leading downstairs.

She didn't know what to do downstairs either, she hands were shaking with adrenalin. But her dilemma didn't last long because Draco was calling for her.

When she got to Draco's room, he was sitting in one of the large chairs while Professor Snape sat on the couch.

"Drink," Draco ordered and Hermione went to the decanter holding his whiskey.

"I think you've had enough tonight," Professor Snape warned.

Hermione returned with the drink and gave it to Draco outstretch hand. Hermione went to sit on the chair over by the wall.

Lucius walked into the room.

"What is wrong with you?" Lucius accused Draco.

"She is mine. Nobody touches her," Draco said.

Lucius considered him for a while.

"She is what she is, son, you cannot go around attacking people who treat her as such," Lucius said.

"Nobody touches her," Draco warned again.

Lucius and Professor Snape exchanged looks.

"We will deal with this tomorrow," Lucius finally said. "Right now I have to deal with the mess you've caused. Do not leave this room again tonight."

After Lucius and Professor Snape had gone, there was complete silence in the room. After a few minutes, Draco got up and waved for her to come as he walked towards the bed. He pulled Hermione down in front of him and leaned into her back with his arm around her waist. They stayed there for a long time and Hermione could tell that he wasn't sleeping. Sometimes she could feel his lips on the skin at the back of her neck. It wasn't kisses, but the slightest of touches.