Hi! Sorry it took me so long to get another chapter out, but I guarantee you that it will take quicker next time, I promise! Thanks goes out to everyone who reviewed, it means so much to me that you like it!
Sorry about the ending for this chapter, it was late at night when I was writing this and I just wanted to get it finished so I just wrote any old thing.
Btw… none of its mine, Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling
Sam-453- I'm finally updating! Yay for me! I am no man…lol.
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On with the fic…
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"Wake up you brats!" A voice rang out in the room that woke up every slave. They all quickly jumped up, wiping away the sleep from their eyes and moved quickly out of the room, to do their daily chores.
Goyle was waiting for Hermione as she made her way over to him, her head bowed, hands clasped in front of her.
"Had good dreams?" Goyle rasped sarcastically, a sick twisted smile on his face. Hermione did not answer, if she did, and said no, her answer would satisfy Goyle. If she said yes, then she would receive multiple beatings for answering back. Neither answers seemed good enough.
Goyle led Hermione out of the room, Hermione casting a pitying look to Daisy who was watching her, cradling her arm which was a bloody purple mess. Hermione gave her a small smile, knowing that the smile would keep Daisy alive through the day. Daisy was young, her childhood was painful and she was a very fragile child. Hermione had taken to Daisy the moment she had seen her two years ago, chains around her arms and legs on that cold morning. Hermione had taken her under her wing, told her everything she needed to know to survive, and in turn, Daisy had given Hermione someone to care about, so her thoughts would not be filled by 'what ifs' and other painful things.
"You listening to me slave?" Goyle said, snapping Hermione out of her reverie by grasping her limp hair and pulling it down so Hermione was forced to look at him. Hermione nodded, wincing as Goyle pulled her hair down further, some of the hair separating from the roots. "Good. Now be gone, you bitch." Hermione nodded, bowing slightly. "And do not forget what I told you." With that, Goyle swept through the corridor, his large black robe billowing behind him.
Hermione leant against the wall, breathing fast, her eyes closed. She knew what Goyle had told her, he told it to her every day. 'Do whatever the Master says, you step out of line and we lose the best slave we have.' Once she had calmed down, she headed down to the kitchens, where she was greeted by more slaves, who nodded to her and smiled sympathetically. Hermione collected the tray of food and hurried back out the kitchens and up to the old South Tower, where Voldemort's lair was. Voldemort like for Hermione to serve his breakfast every morning, clean his room and do any other chore he wished, and like a good slave, Hermione obeyed.
"Oh look, it's the Dark Lord bitch." A voice rang out as she crossed the entrance hall. Hermione stopped in her tracks, sighing quietly. She turned to face her bully, bowing down while balancing the tray on one hand. "Can I help you with that, or are you OK?" Her bully said nicely. Hermione looked up sharply, her brown chocolate meeting cold silver ones. "I was being sarcastic." Draco Malfoy said coldly, his lips turned up into an evil smile. Hermione nodded to him and waited till Draco and his friends had left the Entrance Hall. She continued on her way, winging through the lonely corridors, a route to the South Tower that she knew off by heart, a route that struck fear in her heart as she thought about what would happen when she reached her destination.
Hermione continued on her way, drawing closer and closer to Voldemort's quarters. She passed Sarah on her way there, wincing as she saw the large gash on Sarah's forehead. Sarah was Lucius Malfoy's personal slave, and she was beaten regularly.
Sarah continued on her way, as did Hermione. Before she knew it, she had arrived at Voldemort's chambers, and the Dementors opened the door for her as she walked in.
The room was decorated in black and silver, black velvet drapes hanging over the windows, letting no light filter through. There was a large four poster bed in the corner, the frame decorated with jewels, the bedspread made with the finest silk. The dresser was made of wood, the carpet soft under Hermione's feet and she almost forgot that a Dark Lord lived here. Almost.
"My favourite slave," a voice hissed from the corner, "so nice to see you again." Hermione placed the tray of food on the table and bowed low to Voldemort. She gasped as a cold finger was placed under her chin, lifting her head to meet Voldemort's eye level. "Sleep well my dear?"
Hermione nodded, "yes Master."
Voldemort smiled his face cracking as he did so, his features not used to this expression. "Good. I have lots for you to do today. You'll be busy, my pet." Hermione nodded again. There was silence in the room. "Are you not going to ask what I have in store for you?"
"What are my tasks today, Master?" Hermione said through gritted teeth.
Voldemort smiled, moving away from Hermione and taking a sip of his tea. "So kind of you to ask, my pet. There has been word that there is one Auror left, and I am sending out Death Eaters to kill him. I believe his name is James Potter, do you know of him?" Voldemort asked. Hermione shook her head, her hands shaking by her sides. "Oh, well, his wife was a wretched mudblood. Disgusting is it not?" Hermione nodded her head again, she was like a robot, being controlled by Voldemort and she hated it.
"Disgusting bastard." Hermione muttered under her breath. Voldemort looked up sharply, eyeing her carefully.
He placed his cup of tea on the table and stood up from his chair. "What did you say?" He asked his voice cold as ice.
Hermione stood, rooted to the ground, shaking in fear and anger. "N-Nothing." She stammered. Voldemort inched closer to her.
"I asked you a question, slave, now answer it!" He shouted.
"I-I said nothing, master." Said Hermione with her eyes on her feet.
Voldemort took out his wand from his robe pocket and pointed it to her, the tip touching her forehead. "Tell me!" He demanded, his face contorted in anger.
"I said that you are a disgusting bastard, master!" As soon as those words left Hermione's lips, she felt an all too familiar feeling rush through her body. She was thrown back against the wall and pain coursed through her veins, making her twist and squirm on the floor. She gasped in agony, pursing her lips in an effort not to scream. If she screamed or cried then Voldemort would win, and she did not want that. But by closing her lips, it only made the pain worse and hit the bookstand, causing it the books to topple on top of her, the leather bound books bruising her body. She whimpered, and as soon as she had done that, she knew it was a mistake. The pain was gone, but she was shaking due to the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. But that was not what worried her. She had let her master win, because she was not tough enough, and that was more painful than any curse they could throw at her.
Voldemort peered at her on the floor, his face twisted into a sick smile. "That will teach you not to mouth back to me in the future." Hermione whimpered again, causing Voldemort's eyes to brighten with pleasure. "You will be polishing and getting the weapons ready for today's assignment. Get the Death Eater's ready. That will be all."
Voldemort turned away from her and sat down once again at the table, sipping his tea as if nothing had happened. Hermione stood up weakly, replacing the books on the bookstand and bowing down to Voldemort before leaving the room.
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