((A.N. Hello, everyone! A shorter chapter than the last, but very important!. Lucius is so evil it hurts to write his part!! Ok I won't give anymore away!!! Thank you reviewers: SamAnn/MoonBurst (I like your new name!), Lil Canadian, Apollonia2(About your question, you'll have to wait and see!), hinkypunk2 ( a scary threat about the monkeys!), Sarah, Buffy, kat, Tigrechica, RebelRikki, and kate for the wonderful reviews that make me so happy!!! I am composing a song for you guys and will post it soon, lol! (No, I'm not obsessive...) Ok R&R!))
Oh yeah, I apologize for no disclaimer in the past chapters! I could have been sued! *shudders* I own nothing in this story except perhaps the plot. J.K. Rowling is the genius behind Harry Potter and I thank her for providing us with hours and hours of entertainment, and for giving new writers an inspiration for their work.
Draco barely recognized the dining hall when he entered. Candles with silver flames had been bewitched to fly above tables and created a flickering sensation throughout the room. Platters and platters of food were laid out on the table and men and women were floating in and out of the shadows, mingling with one another. Draco noticed a short figure lurking in a corner, his youthful face illuminated in the ghastly silver light.
He could feel his father's extra tight grip on his shoulder, telling him that he would pay later for the embarrassment Draco had caused him in front of Lemanus Gilroy. His father steered over to the food platters and Draco began taking up food. Soon a few people had come to talk to Lucius and his son.
"Hello, Bellatrix, quite lovely to see you," Lucius said smoothly. "This is my son, Draco."
Bellatrix stuck out her hand while exchanging significant glances with his father.
"It is an... honor... to meet you," she said finally, smiling broadly.
"As it is you. I've heard of your famous deeds from my father," Draco said politely.
Bellatrix gave a small laugh. "Have you? I am honored that you mentioned me to him, Lucius."
"Oh, not merely mentioned, but told him the full tale of..."
And so the evening progressed, until Draco became unbearably bored with the meaningless (and sometimes not so meaningless) chatter. The mysterious figure in the corner had pricked Draco's curiosity. He non-discreetly wandered away from his father and headed over towards the corner. He was stopped, however, by a voice to his left.
"Draco," came the cool, calm, female voice he knew so well.
He turned to see Pansy Parkinson silhouetted in the flickering light. She looked, if anything, more beautiful the Draco had ever seen her. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, glittering evening gown that showed off her dark, long legs. She clutched a tiny bag in her hands that matched the starry black strappy shoes she was wearing, and her scarlet lipstick made her look suave and sophisticated. Draco wondered why he even looked at other girls.
"Hello, Pansy, it's good to see you," Draco said smoothly, becoming entranced in her piercing green eyes.
"You too," she said, putting an emphasis on that last word. She casually held a glass of wine in her hand, and Draco marveled at how natural she looked. It was well known that at Lucius Malfoy's parties, anyone could drink alcohol and no one would stop them. Draco never had liked the effect of wine; it made him terribly clumsy and out of control. There was nothing Draco hated more than being out of control of his own feelings.
Suddenly, as if on cue, slow music came on and Pansy looked at Draco expectantly.
"Do you want to dance?" Draco asked, reaching his arm out to her.
"I'd love to," she said, smiling gracefully at him. They moved onto the glittering dance floor and began swinging elegantly, flawlessly across it. For the first time in his life Draco thanked his mother for making him take dance lessons.
After the song ended, Draco escorted Pansy off of the dance floor. She fanned her face, looking even more ravishing with flushed cheeks.
"I want some punch," Pansy said after a while. "Let's go."
They walked through the crowded, flickering dining hall and headed to the punch bowl. Draco and Pansy were ladling themselves some punch and happened to overhear a bit of the conversation that Lucius seemed to be dominating. The men all around him were roaring with laughter.
"And Narcissa doesn't even realize that I sleep with at least two other women a week! She's so gullible! I can tell her anything and she'll believe it!" He paused, apparently enjoying the men's laughter.
"It's women all together that are gullible," Lucius continued. "No matter what you do or say, they always come crawling back, the weaklings..."
Draco and Pansy hurried away, hoping that they hadn't been seen listening. Draco noticed Pansy biting her lip and blushing furiously as they walked.
"What's wrong?" he questioned, frowning slightly.
Pansy looked up at him and muttered, "Well, it's just. . . what your father was saying–
never mind, silly of me, really. . ." But her voice cracked and she looked even more upset than before.
Draco didn't want Pansy to be embarrassed about what his father had said.
"My father. . ." he started, but trailed off quickly. He didn't know what to say.
Pansy suddenly looked up at him. "You don't think that, do you, Draco?" she said worriedly.
"Of course not. I'd never do something like that," Draco said soothingly, looking right into Pansy's eyes. It suddenly hit him how harsh his father's words had sounded. Downright cruel, he realized. And then he remembered Granger. What the hell do you think you're doing down there with Granger? A nasty voice in his head retorted. How different is that from your father? Pansy frowned at him but didn't say anything.
_** ** ** ** **_
Hermione felt like snapping Malfoy's stupid wand. No matter what she told it to do, no matter what spell she tried to perform, all it would do was emit stupid green and silver sparks.
"Argh!" she roared, and threw the wand across the cell in frustration. It landed far out of her reach. She'd been up for hours on end, trying spells, charms, and anything else she could think of, with no luck whatsoever. She buried her face in her arms. Malfoy should be here any minute, she thought hopelessly. Finally, this was something that the brilliant Hermione Granger couldn't conquer with words or logic alone. This cruelty went past even her knowledge. Finally, she admitted exhaustion. And I don't even have a wand to face Malfoy with, thanks to my temper, she thought bitterly. Without meaning to, Hermione fell into an exhausted sleep.
_** ** ** ** **_
She woke up with a start, for a moment wondering where she was. Then she felt the rough chains that held her down, smelled the rotten, musty stench of mold, and knew that she was right back where she had been before falling asleep. Where are you now, Harry? Hermione thought desperately. Are you okay, Ron? I need you two more than ever right now. Her thoughts were broken by footsteps outside of the cell. Perhaps Narcissa has come again, Hermione thought hopefully.
All of her hope ebbed away as Draco stepped into the room. Without skipping a beat Draco walked over to her and grabbed her throat, shoving her head against the wall.
"My wand, Granger," he demanded, holding out his other arm. Because she couldn't speak, Hermione didn't know what else to do but give in. Silently, she pointed to the corner where she had thrown it.
Draco smirked and picked it up, examining every bit carefully.
"Besides being filthy from you touching it, it seems fine," commented Draco. "I'm glad I had it bewitched so that only I could use it."
Hermione said nothing. Draco looked over at her and she noticed something different about his sterling blue eyes. The usual cool, slightly arrogant expression was missing. In it's place was an emotion Hermione had never seen.
Draco shoved the wand in his robes and came toward her. Hermione felt herself break a sweat.
"What - what day is it? What time?" Hermione asked quietly, looking at him expectantly.
Draco just stared at her.
"Less talk, more play, Granger," he said finally, his eyes burning into hers. Suddenly his gaze dropped below her face.
Hermione knew what he was about to do. Furthermore, it was no use struggling. He was stronger than her and she was in chains. No use at all.
Draco quickly pushed her against the wall, catching both of her wrists in his hands. Hermione drew in a shaky breath, hating him for being this close to her, hating him for what he was about to do.
He reached down and removed her robes, throwing them easily behind him. Under that she was wearing a cotton button-up shirt and a short tartan skirt.
Draco stepped back, smirking at her. Slowly he reached for the top button of her shirt, and Hermione began breathing harder. At an agonizingly slow pace, he began unbuttoning the cotton shirt, button by button. He leered at her the entire time, and finally a single tear slipped out of her closed eyes. In all the time she had been his prisoner, in all the time she had been trapped in the dirty cell, Hermione had never cried a single tear. Now she felt like crying an ocean. Draco had indeed broken her.
At last Draco reached the final button of her shirt, and he slowly unbuttoned it. Then he reached and let the shirt slip down her shoulders.