The Price of Slavery

Chapter 5: Recognition

Rating: R (Or "M" as has stupidly made it…)

Ships: D/Hr…possibly more later.

Disclaimer: I don't own squat. I am but a poor college student. This story in no way is affiliated with JKR, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, or any book, motion picture, media company, or media personality. I own nothing except the crappy plot.

Adrenaline was pumping through her veins. She just couldn't believe it. He was dead. She had seen his demise with her own eyes. There was no fucking way. Well, there were many ways, especially for a wizard as powerful as Voldemort, but accepting the fact that he was still alive and kicking was just too much for Hermione. Struggling to regain her breath, she noticed that the speeches and niceties had been observed and dinner was now in progress. She also had noticed that some of the other women in the room were excusing themselves to the powder room, and figuring that it was her only means of some personal time at the moment, gave her excuses to Draco, and made her way to the ladies' room.

Draco had enjoyed seeing her squirm in her seat, trying to remain calm during the whole speech. It gave him a feeling of power to have control over his emotions, to be above weak creatures such as her, to be able to know what such extreme power could bring.

He turned to Blaise Zabini next to him, and began to flirt with her in the way he had been doing so for so many years. They were old friends, brought up in the same fashion, and had even become lovers at one point. But now all that remained was a companionship, the kind that comes from knowing every inch, inside and out, of the other person.
Blaise knew everything about Draco.

Hermione panted as she raced as gracefully as she could to the ladies room. She flung the door open, causing some of the other women to huff in indignation at her rudeness. She finally reached the back, and shut the door to the stall. Sitting on the lid of the toilet, the world spun around her, a blur of colors, smells and sounds. All she knew was that Voldemort was dead. Yes, dead. And yet he had just toasted her engagement-with much exuberance, one might add. Engagement? Gods, how was she going to get out of this one? Hermione groaned at her own stupidity.

"How did I ever, ever in my life get myself in such a sticky situation?" she muttered to herself.

"With lots of sugary sweet sympathy," retorted a voice from the other side of the door. The door swung open, and it revealed to Hermione a flash of red hair and navy cloth. As she glanced up at the face, a small light of recognition went on in her brain.

"Zabini…Blaise Zabini?" she inquired.

"The one and only. But now is not the time for reintroductions. Come with me." As Hermione had learned in the past few days, it was better to go along willingly than to fight and make life hell. Blaise grabbed her small hand in her own, graceful ones. Hermione was dragged along for what seemed like an hour.

When Blaise suddenly deemed that they had arrived at their final destination, they abruptly stopped. Blaise gave a quick glance over both shoulders, opened the door silently, and beckoned Hermione to come with her.

"Lumos." The light was so shiningly bright that Hermione had to squint at the glare.

"Where am I?"

a/n: Sorry that this took over a year! I've been busy (I know, excuses, excuses…) But thanks to a few discerning people who kept IMing me (THANK YOU!) I got my rear in gear and busted out a quick chappie. Any ideas, comments, questions, concerns, or fluffy little plot bunnies, feel free to email me at or catch me on AIM at gijenn2331. or you could post a comment on my LJ at http: