MELTING THE ICE
Chapter 4: Holding On
Hermione opened her eyes, and shut them immediately to protect them against the glare of the morning sun coming through the blinds. It took her a minute to process where she was and why it was so quiet, but then she remembered. She was no longer in the market waiting to be sold--she had been bought. By Draco Malfoy.
The aforementioned seemed to still be asleep, so Hermione took the luxury of curling back up into a ball on the floor in hopes that she could catch a few more minutes of sleep before she was forced to rise. Unfortunately, her hopes were dashed the moment her eyes fell shut.
"Granger. Wake up!" Draco said sharply, sitting up in bed.
"What." Hermione responded crossly. She was not a morning person, and detested being woken before she was ready to wake up.
"It's your first morning here, so I will be lenient right now. Be grateful for my kindness, and do not expect this to happen again. In the future, I expect you to have already gotten up and brought in my breakfast by the time I awaken. That has formerly been a job for house elves, but I have no need for them any more. It will be much more fun to watch you carry out these tasks," he said smugly, leaning against several propped-up pillows.
Hermione gritted her teeth to refrain from slapping his arrogant face or responding with a sharp retort, but she realized that the best way to have any hope of escaping was to gain his trust so he would gradually give her more freedom. The only way to even possibly think of getting him to trust her was to do what he asked, no questions asked.
She merely nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth. Draco looked surprised at her restraint, then quickly composed himself. "After that you will help me prepare myself for the day. You will constantly remain at my side, a silent shadow. When I give a command, I expect it to be fulfilled instantly. You are to look presentable at all times, no matter what the occasion. I detest unkempt slaves." He paused to take a breath. "Now, I'm hungry, go down to the kitchens and get my food."
The self-satisfied smirk on his face was too much for Hermione. "Yes, your majesty," she replied mockingly before leaving the room. Draco's eyes flashed dangerously, but he kept his temper in check.
Soon, he reminded himself. Soon.
Hermione berated herself as she walked for her stupidity in succeeding in angering Draco. No good would come of it, and it would do her best to keep her mouth shut around him.
She had only been going down the hallway for a little while when the thought struck her: she had no clue where the kitchens were. "Oh, damn," she muttered under her breath. "I can't go back in there, and I'll be lost in this godforsaken Manor without directions." She considered for a second, before continuing to walk down the hallway after realizing that nothing could make her set foot in that room one moment before she had to. "After all," she reasoned, "I was paying attention when he brought be here yesterday. The kitchens can't be too hard to find. And if they are, that's one less minute I have to spend in close quarters with the ice dragon."
It took Hermione almost an hour of twists and turns to get to the entry hall she was brought in yesterday. Her eye caught the door, but the moment she tried to take a step in that direction, her anklet turned fiery hot, preventing her from making a move towards freedom. Hermione almost growled, she was so fed up with the situation.
She looked around, realized she still didn't have a clue on how to get to the kitchens, and nearly collapsed from hunger and fatigue.
Hermione spun about wildly, looking for any clue that would tell her where the kitchens were. She hadn't seen a soul since she left Draco's room, and she was regretting her decision to not ask him for directions.
It's bad enough that I am a slave, she thought. But making my owner be Malfoy is just too much to ask.
She took one last futile glance around her at the surroundings that didn't give her a clue about how to get to the kitchens before screaming in frustration. "Is there any person in this Manor that can tell me how to get to the kitchens?"
Hermione wasn't expecting an answer, but she got one. Lucius stepped out from a dark hallway, a shadow of a grin on his face.
"Well, well, well," he said. ""If it isn't my son's new pet, out for a stroll. What brings you here, girl?"
When Hermione didn't answer, his eyes narrowed. "Speak up," he said harshly. "You will answer when spoken to."
"I was looking for the kitchens," she said, keeping her gaze on the floor the whole time. Hermione refused to look at Lucius and give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her eyes. She didn't want to admit it, but it was true: she was terrified of him. As a Death Eater, there was no telling what he was capable of doing, or what he would feel like doing to her.
"The kitchens?" Lucius asked. "Did my son not tell you how to find your way?"
"I left before he could," Hermione answered.
"Oh? So it's your fault you're lost?" Lucius queried.
Hermione brought her eyes up to meet his, and responded, "Yes," in a clear voice.
Lucius slapped her face. "Do not raise your eyes to mine. I don't care what my son tells you when you're with him, but I am the master of this house, and I will not have a dirty mudblood slave looking me in the eye like an equal."
Hermione tried not to flinch away from him, but it was hard. He reeked of evil. She took a deep breath and called upon her reserve of Gryffindor courage. It had served her for seventeen and a half years, and she wasn't about to lose it now, no matter what her circumstances.
Lucius saw the change come over her features, and privately admired his son's choice in a pet, and wished he had the luxury of breaking one as stubborn and resilient as this. Well, he wasn't the master of the household for nothing. His son surely wouldn't raise too much of an uproar if he asked to "borrow" the mudblood for a night or two. But that would be later. For now, the girl was to be his son's, part of his transition into manhood. The spoiled brat needed some initiation, after all. If it weren't for Narcissa, the boy wouldn't have been so pampered and indulged throughout his childhood. But all that was changing, in the new world. His son would be the Dark Lord's successor, he would make sure of that. He needn't be coddled any longer.
Lucius' attention snapped back to the lovely specimen standing in front of him, patiently waiting to be dismissed. Good. Even though she was the most willful creature, apparently she had learned her place.
He hesitated. It would be enjoyable to… assist… his son in taming this lioness right now. But, no, it was about time Draco learned to care for his pets himself. Now was not the time for him to step in. "The kitchens are in that direction," he pointed. "Be quick about it--my son is not accustomed to waiting. And if I ever catch you stepping above your place again, you will feel the extent of my wrath," he said. When Hermione didn't move immediately, he frowned. "You will respond immediately when given an order. Get to it!" he ordered severely, then swiveled on his foot and disappeared off to wherever he was before.
Hermione turned and followed the direction of his finger. It was sorely tempting to ignore her instructions and try to make Draco's life miserable, but she was smart enough to know that that would ultimately result in her pain. The only was to could fight back for now was passive-resistance, and to even begin that she first needed to gain the trust of the Malfoys. Not that they'll ever trust me, she thought bitterly. I'm muggle-born, and this new world is not kind to those with muggle blood in their veins.
Although she tried to stop them, she couldn't completely block the flashbacks from the final battle that had plagued her for months. They hit her with full force this time, breaking the fragile mental blocks she had placed around that portion of her memory. Hermione was almost to the kitchens, but the strength of the images weighed her down, and she collapsed against the wall.
The Death Eaters had swarmed over the school without warning. There were wards around the school, but those were broken easily if you knew the password. Snape had gone to Voldemort with the keys to breaking into Hogwarts, and once the ancient protections were gone, it was hopeless. Even Dumbledore couldn't hope to stop that many creatures of evil. Perhaps the worst part, as she reflected back, was that she had trusted Snape. She had told Harry and Ron repeatedly that Dumbledore trusted him, and he had reformed, so he was good. But that was all a lie.
The memories flashed in front of her eyes, too fast for her to really see.
Professor Lupin burst into the main hall with a half-crazed look in his eyes. "It's starting!" he yelled to Dumbledore. No more explanations were needed. No more time was available. The doors burst open, and the slaughter began. The majority of the Slytherins followed Snape as he led them to the Death Eaters. They joined their fathers, and laughed.
Harry and Voldemort were locked in a deadly battle while the fight continued in the rest of the Great Hall. Neither could seem to defeat the other, but neither was willing to give up.
Hermione cradled Ron, sobbing. She had been unable to prevent the Death Eater from pointing the killing curse at him. Ron still had his whole life to live. He died defending his sister. Ginny, horrified, had lost her concentration and was knocked out with a stunning spell. She was deemed too valuable to dispose of, so they left her for later use.
Hands pried Ron from Hermione, but left her untouched. They took him away as she screamed for him. Something in Hermione snapped, and she lost it. Her sense of decency snapped. She began firing curse after curse, managing to disable more than one Death Eater.
Dumbledore shoved a Portkey into Harry's hand just as Voldemort whirled and killed the one wizard that kept everyone safe. Before Harry had time to react, the Portkey activated and he was taken, Hermione hoped, to safety.
She wreaked havoc on the Death Eaters. They had all underestimated her, because she was muggleborn. They had left her untouched, possible for amusement later. But no one would ever underestimate Hermione Granger again; she made sure of that.
The last thing Hermione remembered before all went black was Snape pointing a wand at her. He was laughing. He continued to laugh with that maniacal grin, and his comrades joined him. Everything went black.
She was tortured for information about Harry, but they soon realized she was worthless in that regard. So she was put with the rest of the muggleborns, stripped of her wand and her dignity. Hermione didn't care, because Ron, her beloved Ron, was gone. Nothing mattered anymore. She wanted to die.
Then she heard about Harry. Whispered rumors that the Boy-Who-Lived was still alive, still lived. So she held on. Hermione didn't let go of those few strands of life she hung to. She held on, for Harry. For hope.
And now, she was given an opportunity. She was released from the cages, and given the chance to make a difference. She was made a slave of Voldemort's most loyal followers. A dangerous position, but she was a brilliant girl. Being owned by the Malfoys was the best and worst thing she could have asked for.
So she opened her eyes, held her head up high, and entered the kitchens. For now, she would hold on. She would do what she was told, so she could stay alive. For the resistance. For the oppressed. For Harry.
