Maddy did not know how long it took before the pounding of her heart in her ears subsided. There was no clock in the bathroom. She held her breath. Silence reigned beyond the bathroom door.

Quietly, she stood up. A movement caught her eye, and she froze. Her own face stared back at her from the mirror over the basin, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, hair a bird's-nest tousle. Maddy winced and looked away. She could not face herself right now.

She had to get out immediately. The thought of remaining in this house a moment longer was unbearable. If she was still here by morning, she knew that somehow, the Lestranges would find a way to convince her to stay, and then it would be all over for her. She could not give them that chance. But she also could not return home in her current state, looking ravished and reeking of sweat and sex.

The scent overwhelmed her for a moment, and Maddy thought she might be sick. They had made her want it. They had used her desire against her. They had tricked her into betraying herself.

She turned on the taps in the large tub, and huddled in the bottom, waiting for it to fill. Perhaps she would drown herself. The thought of implicating the Lestranges in her death held some appeal, but only if she could be there to see it. Maddy had no wish to end up like Myrtle, forever haunting the place where she had been wronged.

With shaking hands, Maddy washed herself, pushing away the memory of other hands caressing her body. The worst of it was the tingling between her legs. It seemed Rabastan had told the truth: his runic locking charm held her arousal at its peak, just shy of release. Even running the cold tap until goose pimples rose on her skin did little to abate it.

Stepping out of the bath, Maddy rubbed her hair as dry as she could manage, and plaited it. It might raise awkward questions if she arrived home in the middle of the night looking fresh from the bath. Wrapping herself in a dressing gown, she took a deep breath, and stepped back into the bedroom.

The room was dark. The candle had gone out. The door into the hallway was closed. Maddy held her breath, heart in her throat, listening intently, but there was no sound of another living being in the room.

Swiftly, Maddy re-lit the candle and dressed herself, shoving her belongings into her traveling case. She knew she was forgetting things, but she could not afford the time it would take to find them in the darkness. The remains of her silk nightgown were lost somewhere amid the tangle of soiled bedclothes. Maddy left it there, unable to bear the thought of revisiting the scene of her humiliation.

She half expected to find the Lestranges' house-elf standing guard outside the bedroom door, waiting to warn its masters of her escape, but the dimly-lit corridor was empty.

Clutching her traveling case to her chest, Maddy tiptoed down the stairway to the shadowy parlour that had seemed so cosy and welcoming only hours before. She fumbled for a handful of Floo Powder, and flung it onto the grate. The instant the green flames sprang up, she stepped into them, whispering her home address.

A whirling instant later, Maddy stumbled onto the familiar worn carpet of the sitting room of her own home. Her relief was short-lived, however.

"Mistress Maddy! You are home early!"

Squeaker the house-elf stood on the high back of an armchair, reaching for a cobweb with a feather duster.

"Um, yes. I -" Maddy had not thought through her excuses.

"Shall I wake Mistress Manda?"

"No!" cried Maddy, alarmed. She was not ready to face her mother just yet. "Let her sleep. I'm just going to bed."

Squeaker peered at her. "Are you well, Mistress?"

"I-I'm well enough. Just tired. That will be all." She made a dismissive gesture. There was no reason why she should have to explain herself to a house-elf.

Squeaker curtsied, and vanished with a pop.

Maddy made her way quietly up the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeakiest steps. She closed her bedroom door behind her, wishing it had a lock. Changing quickly into a linen nightgown, Maddy threw herself onto the bed and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

But it was no good. Now that she was away from the Lestranges, in the safety of her own bedroom, there was nothing to come between Maddy and her thoughts. They rose up around her like menacing shadows.

Rabastan had known the entire time. He had chosen her because of something he saw in her - something wanton - and she had eaten it up, flattered by the attention, convinced that she loved him, and that he loved her. He had played her for a fool, and she had let him. And Bellatrix - that paragon of pure-blood womanhood - had sneered at her and called her a slut.

"I'm not a slut," Maddy whispered into her pillow. "I'm not."

But she knew that it did not matter what she said or thought. The things Bellatrix had said about her, and about her mother and father, were the same things others whispered behind her back. Like mother, like daughter. Maddy had heard it before, though never so openly. What would they say if they ever found out what had transpired at Lestrange Manor?

A sob broke free of Maddy's throat, and she hugged her pillow tight to her chest. "It wasn't my fault. They tricked me."

All Maddy had wanted was marriage to a respectable pure-blood man, and all she had tried to do was please a boy who seemed like an ideal prospect. She had thought of herself as the beautiful but destitute heroine of one of Freya Lovelace's novels, destined to win the heart of a rough but tender hero, and live happily ever after. How had it all gone so wrong? How had she fallen so easily into the Lestranges' trap?

Her mother had always told her that she must keep herself pure. That if she made herself pretty and winsome and agreeable, one day a man would love her, and beg for her hand in marriage. Cartimandua had reminded Maddy often that men did not like nags or know-it-alls. She had learned to smile and laugh prettily, to never tell a man he was wrong, or to act as if she knew better than him.

Up until this year, Maddy had believed that if she followed the rules faithfully, her happy ending was all but assured. It was only now that she realised the potion was poisoned. How could a woman be winsome, agreeable, and deferential to a man, and yet not give in to his desires? Was telling a man no not implying that he was wrong, and she knew better? And what of her own desires? Why had her mother never warned her what a powerful force they could be?

The rules depended on everyone agreeing to them and following them, but now it seemed to Maddy that no one except girls like her were expected to practise self-restraint. Men and boys could do as they pleased, and powerful families like the Lestranges lived by their own rules. No one cared what mudbloods did, so long as they did it with other mudbloods. Even Maddy's own mother ...

For years, Cartimandua had welcomed a parade of men into their home, and into her bed. Maddy had watched them silently - had heard them through the thin walls of the house at night. How could she be expected to learn the proper way of refusing a man from such an example? Her mother had never refused a man anything, that Maddy knew of. Not until Ophiuchus Cameron.

Now that Maddy thought about it, that was when her problems had truly begun, months before Rabastan had touched her, or she met his brother and sister-in-law. Her own feeble resistance to Cameron's advances that night in the kitchen had amounted to nothing. If it had not been for Squeaker -

Tears stung Maddy's eyes, and she ground her teeth together. "It's not fair."

The game was rigged. Maddy saw now that she had never stood a chance. She was not responsible for the things that had happened to her. She had been sold a fantasy, and her only crime was believing in it. If anyone was to blame for the mess she found herself in, it was certainly not her.

Maddy crept down the stairs in the grey winter dawn. Between her churning thoughts and the relentless thrum of the hex between her thighs, she had barely slept. Her eyes felt gritty, and her brain was slow and woozy. All she wanted was to grab a stealthy breakfast of toast and tea, and retreat back to her bedroom to try and sleep a while longer, before she had to face any questions about what had transpired with the Lestranges.

Luck was not with her. She was lighting the hob under the old copper kettle when a sound from the doorway warned her that she was not alone.

"Maddy! I didn't expect you home for two more days."

Maddy's fingers gripped the edge of the counter. She did not turn around.

"You're not usually up this early, Mum," she said, making her voice as light and even as she could manage.

"Squeaker told me you came home unexpectedly last night," said Cartimandua. Her hand stroked Maddy's shoulder. "Is everything all right, Sweetheart?"

It was all Maddy could do not to cringe away from her touch.

"It's nothing," she said shortly. "Rab and I split up."

"Oh, Maddy, I'm so sorry. I know how fond you were of him. You must be heartbroken."

Maddy hunched her shoulders, making a show of measuring out tea leaves into the chipped teapot. "I don't want to talk about it, Mum."

Cartimandua ran a soothing hand over Maddy's plaited hair. "Just remember, it's not the end of the world. I know how upsetting and disappointing it can feel when a courtship ends. But it only means the two of you weren't right for each other. One day, you'll meet the man you're meant to be with, and you'll both know it."

A huff of hollow laughter escaped Maddy's throat. "Is that how it works, Mum? Is that how it was for you?"

She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She did not want to have this conversation. But the hypocrisy of her mother pretending to know the first thing about proper courtship, or making a good marriage match, was infuriating.

Cartimandua stilled. "You know what happened. Your father and I were a love match. We were young and foolish, and we wed against the wishes of our parents. It was a mistake. We weren't well-suited to one another, in the end."

Maddy jerked away, and turned to glare at her mother. "Then I guess that makes me a mistake, too, doesn't it? You should never have married him, and you should never have had me. I just get in the way of everything, and make your life more difficult."

"Don't be like that, Maddy! You know I don't regret -"

But Maddy was in no mood to listen. "Things will be easier for you, once you pawn me off on some man, I expect. You're probably more disappointed than I am that it didn't work out between me and Rab. Just imagine if you'd managed to marry off your 'mistake' of a daughter to one of the oldest pure-blood families in Britain!"

Cartimandua pressed her lips together, and drew in a deep breath through her nose, fixing Maddy with a firm look. "I know you're upset right now, but that's no excuse for this behaviour. I'm not responsible for your breakup. I'm your mother, and I love you. I only want to see you happy and well-cared for."

"You're not responsible?" A hysterical laugh bubbled from Maddy's lips. "D'you want to know why Rab and I split up? Why I won't be marrying into the Lestrange family, or any other great and noble pure-blood house? Because my MOTHER is a SLUT!"

Her mother's slap made her reel back more from shock than from pain.

The kettle screeched, and Maddy whirled away to yank it off the boil, her cheek burning. Silence reigned in the kitchen as she poured the steaming water into the teapot with hands that shook. Her mother had never struck her before.

"I'm sorry," her mother said at last. "I shouldn't have done that. And I'm sorry if they made you feel like you weren't good enough for their family. You're a good girl, Maddy - as good as any other pure-blood witch - and you deserve to be treated well."

"It doesn't matter how good I am, or what I 'deserve', though, does it?" said Maddy, trying to keep her voice steady. "Not when everyone thinks I'm just going to end up like you. So don't lie to me about what my life will be like, or pretend to know how I feel right now. I'm sure splitting up with someone must seem like nothing, after you've been with a few dozen blokes."

"Whatever I've done, Madeleine," Cartimandua said with forced evenness, "I've done it for you, so that you can have a better life than I did. If you must blame someone for the choices I've had to make, then blame your father, not me. If he were here -"

"But he's not," snapped Maddy, "and you are, and so's a different dodgy bloke, every school holiday. Should I thank you for that? Why couldn't you at least have found one bloke, and pretended to be respectable? Or did they just not want to stay with you?"

Cartimandua's jaw was set. "I never found one I thought would make you a suitable stepfather. And anyway, you know very well that your father and I never had our marriage bond dissolved. If we'd ever had the gold, I might have hired someone to find him, so we could finish things properly between us. But none of that means you can't still have a good life, and make a decent marriage."

"How can I?" Maddy demanded. "How can I, when everyone thinks I'm a slut, too?"

Her mother winced. "I don't care for that word, Madeleine. We can talk about your marriage prospects, but not if you're going to behave like this. As it happens, a few men have expressed an interest in your hand in marriage over the past year. I told them you were too young yet to think about such things, but that if they were still interested, they might begin a formal courtship next summer."

Maddy stared at her, momentarily thrown. "Who?"

"Would you want me to jinx it by naming names?" Cartimandua attempted a knowing smile.

Maddy was having none of it. "I just want to know if I'm getting your leavings. Is that what you meant when you said I should consider marrying an older man? One you'd already tried out? Maybe on our wedding night, my husband and I can share a laugh over the time he fucked my mother!"

"Language, Maddy!" Cartimandua gasped.

"I don't even know why we're pretending it's my hand they're interested in," Maddy continued. "If there's one thing I've learned from you, it's that the only part of me with any value to men is my cunt!"

Cartimandua stared at her, aghast. "I don't know where you learned that ugly word -"

"I learned it there, Mother." She pointed to the kitchen counter, beside the basin. "When one of your 'gentleman lodgers' tried to stick his prick in mine. Was he one of the men who asked you for my 'hand'?"

All the colour left Cartimandua's face, and she swayed on the spot. Slowly, she collapsed into a kitchen chair, and buried her face in her hands.

"That's what this is about." Her voice was quiet, muffled, and very tired. "You're angry because I didn't protect you. Of course you are. You've every right to be."

Maddy stared at her mother's bowed head, taken aback. A moment ago, she had wanted nothing more than to hurt and shame her mother, as she herself had been hurt and shamed. But now, as Cartimandua's shoulders shook with silent sobs, Maddy felt no sense of triumph.

"Mum -"

Her mother looked up, face shining with tears. "It's all right, Maddy. I understand. You're a good girl; you're just upset right now. It's too early in the day for heavy conversations. I think perhaps we should both go back to bed, and try again later."

A sob welled up in Maddy's throat, and she swallowed it. Part of her wanted to fling herself into her mother's arms, and weep like a child, confessing everything. But she was not a child any longer, and her mother could not help her out of the mess she was in anymore than Cartimandua could help herself. Maddy could not confide any of what had happened at Lestrange Manor to her mother, nor even let her see the depths of her distress.

Tears burned in Maddy's eyes. Leaving the tea behind, she turned and fled.

Maddy spent most of the day in her bedroom, though sleep eluded her. She and her mother had had little fights from time to time, but never anything like this. The memory of things she had said made Maddy cringe. Why had she not simply kept her mouth shut? She could have pretended everything was all right. What had lashing out at her mother like that gained her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet clink of china, and a soft rap at the door. By the time Maddy opened it, the house-elf had vanished, but a tray of soft-boiled eggs, toast, and tea waited for her, along with a small parcel wrapped in bright paper and ribbon, and a note. Maddy brought them into the room, and set them on the bed, unfolding the bit of parchment reluctantly.

Dearest Maddy,

I'm sorry we got off to such a bad start, when we've hardly seen each other in months. I've missed you so. The house feels so empty when you're away at school. It's hard to be a mother, and to realise that your little girl is a young woman now, and that soon enough, she'll have a life of her own. Please know that you can still talk to me about anything. I'm here for you, Sweetheart. Let's try again at supper. Bright Yule to you.

Love,
Mum

The parcel contained several small pots of colourful nail varnish. Maddy stared at them, a leaden weight of guilt settling in her belly, sitting uncomfortably alongside the constant tingle of arousal that still burned between her legs. She knew she had crossed a line. Did that mean she should apologise? The Lestranges' taunting had left her feeling foolish and soiled, but was that truly her mother's fault? Part of Maddy still thought so.

She was too upset to feel very hungry, but she made herself eat the cold food anyway. If she did not, she would have to sneak down to the kitchen again later, and risk another chance encounter with her mother.

Maddy gazed into her empty teacup for a long time, trying to divine some meaning from the sodden leaves that might hint at a path forward, but they only sat in the bottom of the cup in an unreadable lump. In the end, she decided to pretend that the argument with her mother had not happened. When suppertime came, she would simply act as if nothing was amiss. After that, she would find some way to break Rabastan's stupid hex, and make a start at putting this whole mess behind her.

For the remaining days of the winter holidays, Maddy shut herself away in her father's study, and for the first time in her life, devoted herself to scholarship.

"I have to revise," she told her mother. "It's OWLs in a few months. All the professors have assigned loads of work."

That was true, as far as it went, but it was not schoolwork Maddy busied herself with during those short winter days, and long winter evenings. Instead, she ransacked the shelves of the library for any book that might help her break - or at least manage - the runic charm that had overnight made her life unbearable.

Between breakfasts taken in her bedroom, and tea brought to her by the house-elf in the afternoons, Maddy only saw her mother at supper. Cartimandua seemed to accept that Maddy was heartbroken over her breakup with Rabastan, and did not wish to talk about it. That was a good thing, since Maddy found it harder and harder to pretend everything was normal, with each passing day.

The hex ate at her. It was all she could do not to squirm in her seat, pressing her thighs together, vainly trying to find some relief. Her sleep was fitful. Her thoughts were jumbled and disturbing. The cuckoo clock on the wall of the study made her grind her teeth when its hourly chime interrupted her already-fragmented focus.

One night, she found her distracted gaze lingering on one of the unlit candles fixed in the candelabrum that stood upon her father's desk. It was tall and red and slender. Was it only a cock that would break the spell, or would something of a similar shape do the trick? She plucked the candle from its holder, heart hammering. Maddy had already told Squeaker not to disturb her studies, except for afternoon tea, so the chances of her being interrupted were slim. Still, she made sure to lock the study door before returning to the leather armchair.

Her bloomers were soaked through as she slid them down over her hips. They always were these days. Maddy drew up her knees, wedging her feet inside the arms of the chair. She held her breath, going slowly at first, until she was sure it would not hurt. The cool, smooth wax felt strange as it slipped inside her. She pushed the candle in as far as it would go, and held it there, but that did not seem to do anything. Trying not to think of the mocking story Bellatrix had told about her roommate and the candle, Maddy experimented with moving it in and out, gently at first, and then faster.

She clenched her teeth, grunting with effort and frustration, massaging her pleasure spot, already raw from days of fruitless rubbing, as she drove the stick of wax into herself again and again, trying to imagine it was a thick, meaty cock. But it was no use. With a scream of frustration, she hurled the candle across the room, where it clattered against the wall.

Fearing the noise might summon Squeaker, Maddy quickly got up and retrieved it. She tossed the candle into the fireplace as she rearranged her bloomers. She watched the red wax melt away among the embers, silently cursing Rabastan's name.

Maddy's reading had yielded no greater success. Her Ancient Runes text told her only that the locking charm would hold until the unlocking conditions set by the caster were met. None of the books in her father's library, when she could force herself to focus on them at all, offered so much as a hint of help.

She had tried stealing some of her mother's sleeping potion, but that had given her dark and disturbing dreams. The only respite she found was a soak in cool water before bed, followed by the application of a numbing charm, which allowed her to snatch a few hours of sleep.

But as the days passed, Maddy's hopes of breaking the hex before the end of the holidays evaporated. She briefly considered refusing to return to Hogwarts. The thought of facing Rabastan and her schoolfellows in her current state was almost more than she could bear. But neither could she remain at home. She had run out of books that looked promising, and was now reduced to random browsing, in the vain hope that a solution to her predicament would miraculously present itself. The Hogwarts library was huge. Somewhere, it must surely hold the answers she needed.

Maddy could feel herself coming unraveled. At night, she dreamed of falling. Some days, all she could do was rage and sob in frustration behind the locked door of the study, imagining Rabastan, his brother and sister-in-law, Ophiuchus Cameron, and her father, all laughing at her naivety.

When Squeaker appeared with a pop, carrying a tea tray, on Maddy's last afternoon at home, Maddy quickly rubbed her hands over her face, trying to hide her frazzled state.

"Put it on the desk."

Squeaker did as she was bid. "Is there anything else you are wanting, Mistress Maddy?" she asked.

Maddy balled her hands into fists. She wanted answers to questions she did not dare to ask. She wanted relief. She wanted the things she had been promised. She wanted the world to play fair and make sense.

"I want - I want for men not to be terrible, and for women not to have to act like stupid, fawning fools over them all the time!" she burst out.

The house-elf blinked at her in surprise. "Is there ... something you are wanting that Squeaker can do for you?"

"Are all men terrible?" Maddy demanded.

The elf hesitated. "Men are men," she said carefully. "It is not an elf's place to question the doings of wizards."

"All they seem to want is what's between our legs," continued Maddy, "and we're not supposed to let them have it. But if we don't, they call us names, and if we do, everyone calls us names! It's like a game we can never win, but we're all meant to play it anyway, and not complain, because that's just the way things are done."

"Such traditions hold the fabric of Wizarding society together, Mistress," Squeaker reminded her. "The bloodlines must be kept pure."

"Oh, believe me, I know it," snapped Maddy. "And the only way to do that, apparently, is for women to keep their legs closed, while men wander around, sticking their cocks wherever they feel like." She narrowed her eyes at the little elf. "Is it true wizards sometimes use house-elves for that? Is that one of the 'great traditions' of Wizarding society?"

Squeaker's large eyes widened, and she took a step back, alarmed. "I assure you, Mistress, Master Boniface never asked any such service of Squeaker!"

"But some wizards do, don't they?" Maddy pressed.

Reluctantly, Squeaker ducked her head. "House-elves do not usually speak of such matters, but ... we are bound to serve our masters - and our mistresses - in any way they command."

Maddy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "But they couldn't ... make a child together, could they?"

"Oh, no, Mistress Maddy!" Squeaker assured her quickly. "House-elves only breed at the command of their masters, with a mate of their masters' choosing. If an elf were ever to fall pregnant by her master, she would be ordered to rid herself of it at once. Such a creature would be an abomination, and bring shame upon the house the elf serves."

Maddy felt ill. When she realised Squeaker was waiting for some further question or command, she made a dismissive gesture. "That will be all," she said hoarsely.

Now that she knew the truth, there was no doubt in her mind that Rabastan was exactly the sort of wizard who would demand such services of his family's servants. That was probably why the elf had not been acting as a lookout when Maddy fled Lestrange Manor. The scene was all too easy for her to imagine. Once, she had been the servile creature, eager to please him, and quick to comply with his demands. The thought made her cringe.

If she had agreed to the Lestranges' arrangement, what would she have been to them but another servant, to use for their pleasure, and breed at their command? What would she be to any man who wed her? Was a kind master the best fate she could hope for?

"I'm not a house-elf," she whispered heatedly.

All her life, she had been told that being a pretty, pure-blood girl made her a rare prize. Surely there had to be some way to make those things work in her favour.