Disclaimer: Man I'm running out of interesting ways to say it. JK Rowling's.

Summary: The morning after that rather nasty fight. Warning: violent flashbacks, curse words.

A/N: I update again, this time at my aunt's house! It is like 1am here in Ecuador, my cousin just walked by, asking me what I was doing on the computer. "Oh, I'm just checking my email." Ah, quite the sly devil I am. Anyway, thank you for all the reviews, I truly and dearly appreciate them all. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I really hope it isn't too sappy, or that the first part isn't too disturbing. Since someone asked, I'll just say that my visions for this post-war Voldemort world were inspired by Schindler's List, with mudbloods being the obvious parallels to the jews in WWII. There you have it. Read and review!

"P—pleas---please, Master Goyle, I have a wife and two daughters," the man groveled pathetically. He knew his fate.

"Did you hear that, Goyle? Two daughters! We'll have to add them to your stable," Draco Malfoy cackled. He leaned in until he was inches from the begging man's face. "Do you like that, mudblood? After we kill you, we're going to turn your daughters into whores!" He cackled again, as the man put his face in his hands and sobbed.

Pansy felt her face grow red with rage. She hated when Draco dragged her with him to visit Goyle. She couldn't stand Goyle to begin with, and when her husband was with him she couldn't stand him either. All they ever did was torture Goyle's slaves.

"Please, Master Goyle, Master Malfoy….please, mercy."

The two laughed in response. Pansy quickly turned and walked away, knowing what was coming. From behind her she could hear Goyle.

"No mercy for mudbloods." It had become almost an oath among Draco and his friends.

Pansy shut her eyes as she heard the Avada Kedavra curse, and the choking scream that followed it. God, it was all so pointless.

"Pansy? Where are you going? Oh don't tell me…" came the exasperated groan from Draco Malfoy. "Don't tell me you're going to cry about these mudbloods again." He ran up beside her, and Pansy whirled around to face him.

"What you and Goyle are doing is just sick! There's no reason to be so sadistic and cruel, there's no reason for any of this! They're still human, even if they are mudbloods!"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Haven't you heard Lord Voldemort's latest speech? There is no such thing as sadistic or cruel when dealing with mudbloods."

"Oh honestly, do you really believ---" Pansy stopped when she saw Draco's expression.

"Be careful with what you're saying, girl," he snarled. "It seems to me that the mudbloods destroyed your brain along with your arm, and you aren't going to make a fool out of father and I." He grabbed Pansy's left arm and squeezed. "Am I clear?"

Pansy cried out in pain. Draco waited until she nodded in affirmation before he released his grip. Tears formed in her eyes as she followed her husband back towards where Goyle was standing above his latest mudblood victim.

As they approached, a scream shot out from the Goyle manor in front of them. A naked girl, blood running down her face and legs, burst out from one of the doors and began frantically running away from the house, in a path that brought her towards Goyle and Draco. Pansy recognized the girl.

Two men, who Pansy recognized as Goyle's cousins, burst out of the house in pursuit, hastily buttoning their pants. Pansy could guess as to what had happened.

As the frantic girl approached, obviously consumed with panic and not aware of who she was running towards, Goyle grabbed the wand from his pocket, laughing, his eyes flashing with sadistic glee.

"Cruciato."

The girl was lifted into the air and her blood-curdling scream pierced the air. She collapsed on the ground, screaming and writhing, as Goyle's cousins approached.

"Fucking bitch, doesn't know to appreciate pureblood cock when she's offered it," one of them said.

"Draco," Pansy whispered. "I know that girl."

Draco turned around. "And?"

Goyle's cousins began dragging the screaming girl by her hair back towards the house.

"Draco, that's Hannah Abbot. She was at Hogwarts with us."

"Yeah?"

Pansy spoke as forcefully as she could, trying to conceal her desperation. "Draco, I know her."

Draco had stopped walking, and stared Pansy right in her eyes. "And I know she's a mudblood, and that's all that matters."

Pansy opened her eyes for just a second, just long enough to see the sunlight streaming into her room, and then quickly shut them. She threw the blanket over her face, curled up into the fetal position, and tried desperately to fall back to sleep. She didn't want to be awake because it meant facing her guilt.

But guilt is a very poor sedative, and the shame and disgust she felt prevented any sort of return to sleep. Knowing that sleep was out of the question, a frustrated Pansy kicked the blankets off her bed and pounded her fist once against the pillow.

It wasn't supposed to be like this! She had tried, she had tried so very hard to be different! She had promised herself that she was going to be kind and fair. She had promised herself that she would be nothing like Goyle or Draco, that by acquiring Hermione as a slave she was actually saving her from something worse. But that had lasted all of one day. It turned out she was no different from everyone else.

When she thought about how much preparation she had gone through, all the bribes she had given, all the favors she had called up just to get ownership of Hermione, it was enough to make her cry again. She had tried so hard, but it had all been for nothing. Last night had ruined it all.

She rolled onto her back and thought back to that summer night at Goyle manor, the time she saw Hannah Abbott, the night she swore to herself that she would save a mudblood from a similar fate. She remembered the look on Goyle's face right before he cast Cruciato. Did she look like that yesterday while beating Hermione? Did Hermione cry out like Hannah Abbot had?

It was such a miserable train of thought that Pansy started crying and cursing herself all over again. This all wouldn't have happened if she could just control her temper, if she wasn't so sensitive about her arm! But why did Hermione have to yell at her like that? Why did she have to call her arm worthless?

But it had been her own fault. She couldn't blame Hermione.

Pansy lay there, thinking of what she could do now, wondering how Hermione would react to her after last night, when she suddenly had a chilling thought. What if Hermione had run away? She sat up in bed. It was a scenario too horrible to imagine. Runaway slaves who were caught faced a mandatory kiss with a Dementor. Not even the Malfoy name would be able to save her.

Terrified by the possibility and in a sudden panic, she sprung out of bed and sprinted down the hall, not even taking the time to cover her arm. Reaching the end of the hallway and seeing the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs, she lost what little composure she had left.

"Hermione! Hermione!" she desperately called out, racing down the stairs. If Hermione had run away…

She burst into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes grew wide, a soft gasp of shock came from her mouth. Tears began to well in her eyes.

Hermione was sitting down at the kitchen table. Her face was crusted with dried blood, her right eye was blackened.

But on the kitchen table...was breakfast. She had made breakfast. Pansy had attacked her, beaten her till she passed out, and she had still made breakfast!

She stood up and curtsied when Pansy came in.

"Good morning, mistress."

Pansy lost what little control she had left.

Hermione had woken up that morning on a floor that was hard and cold and with a dull ache in her bones and joints. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn't make out where she was. She panicked. Pansy had had her thrown back in prison! She stumbled up blindly, grasping and feeling her way around. Her hand brushed against a cold metal pipe, and she brought her head close so that her eyes could make out what it was. It was the sink faucet, she was still in Pansy's kitchen. She briefly relaxed and sunk to the floor.

She wasn't in prison, but prison or worse seemed inevitable. She had challenged and goaded Pansy into a fight. She had insulted her, called her a liar, god how foolish she had been! She had been given an opportunity to get away from prison, and as humiliating as it was to work for her former enemy, Pansy had been kind, and she had ruined it! She slapped her hand against the floor in anger and teared up. She desperately wanted to stay here, but there was no way Pansy would keep her now.

She sat up, wiped the tears from her eyes and considered her options. She had to think, think very hard if she wanted to live. It was still early and the sun was not yet up. She could try and make an escape. But…where could she go? She couldn't think of a single place to go, a single person to try and contact. In fact, there was only one person in the entire world who she still knew, and that was Pansy. And if she was caught, she imagined that the beating Pansy gave her last night would be kind in comparison.

No, she couldn't run away, so she considered her other options. She could sit and wait out her fate or….or she could try to apologize to Pansy, try to get back on her good side. Pansy had only given her two duties so far: to clean Lucius's room, and to prepare breakfast and dinner. It was nearly breakfast time. Knowing that this might be her only chance to avoid death, Hermione stood on wobbly legs and began to desperately prepare breakfast.

When she was finished, she sat down and waited for Pansy to come down. She practiced what she would say, how she would apologize and beg for her life. Until Hermione had provoked her, Pansy had been nice to her. Maybe she would be nice again.

After a few minutes, Hermione heard a noise from upstairs, the sound of feet pattering on the wood floor, and then Pansy's voice.

"Hermione! Hermione!" she was shouting breathlessly.

She tensed up, but was more confused than nervous. It didn't sound angry, it sounded desperate. And then Pansy appeared, standing at the doorway of the kitchen. Her eyes were red, her left arm uncovered, and her breathing irregular. When she saw Hermione she choked up.

Hermione, though confused, stood up and began to speak. "Good morning, mistress."

Pansy stared at her in shock, her mouth agape, her bottom lip trembling, trying to maintain her composure.

Hermione couldn't understand why Pansy was so emotional, and before she could continue with her plea Pansy broke down. Tears ran down her face, and she leaned over and covered her face with her hand. She was trying to say something, but was struggling to speak.

Hermione stood there, bewildered, trying to understand what was happening and why Pansy was crying. Not sure what to do next, she followed her instinct and crossed the room towards Pansy. When she got close, Pansy suddenly threw her arm around Hermione and pressed her head into the crook of Hermione's neck. Hermione could feel the warm tears flow down her neck.

"Why did you make breakfast?" Pansy gasped softly, between breaths.

Hermione didn't understand the question. "Because…it's my job."

Her response only caused Pansy to pull her closer, squeeze her tighter.

"I was so scared that you might have run away," Pansy whispered.

"No," Hermione gulped. "There was no place for me to go, except here."

This elicited another gentle sob from Pansy, and she pulled away from her neck and pressed her forehead against Hermione's, staring at her eye to eye.

"I'm so so sorry for yesterday. I…I'm just really sensitive about…about, you know…and I've been trying to control my temper and I just snapped and I'm just so sorry for it."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Pansy continued.

"I promise you, Hermione, I promise you, I will never hurt you again, okay? I don't want to be like everyone else, okay? I know how mudblo---your kind of people, are treated. I don't want to be like everyone else. I don't want to be like Goyle and Draco, I want to be nice, I promised myself I'd be nice and then I just lost my temper and I'm just…so, so sorry."

Hermione realized that she wouldn't have to beg for her life, that Pansy wanted her to stay and was actually apologizing for her behavior. She was stunned. This was worlds away from what she expected, worlds away from how Pansy had behaved up to this point. Seeing Pansy cry and beg for forgiveness brought tears to Hermione's eyes. She put her hand at the back of Pansy's head and gently pushed it back so that it rested on her neck.

"I'm so sorry too. For saying those things about you, and not believing what you said." She was crying as well.

Pansy kept quietly repeating something, over and over again, against Hermione's neck. She strained her ear to hear it.

"I'm not like Goyle and Draco, I'm not like Goyle and Draco, I'm not like Goyle and Draco," she whimpered.

Hermione wasn't quite sure what she was referring to, but she wrapped her arms around her and held her tight.

"No, you're not."