Chapter Three

"What in the hell are you doing here, Granger!" Draco asked, shocked, sitting up abrubtly, spilling tea down his front, then shouting in pain from the scalding liquid.

"Who's 'Granger'?" Hermione asked, genuine puzzlement etched across her face.

"Oh, as if you didn't know," Draco retorted, but his conviction was shaken by the look of confusion on her face.

"But, I don't," she said, looking a little hurt and even more confused. "My name is Slave, and this is Master," she articulated, wrapping a lean, bolden arm around Ollivander's, looking at him as if he were a god. Draco's mind reeled. He was so confused.

"Never mind. Forget I said anything." The confusion left Hermione's, or "Slave", face and pleasure took its place. She went out of his line of vision behind a fine curtain of rope webs and leaves, and she reentered the room with a large bowl, made of wood, of course, and filled with water. It was then he noticed the metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Apparently the name Slave was accurate.

"Let's get washed up, shall we?" she sang, pulling a rag out of the water, squeezing it until it didn't drip anymore, and in one quick movement, was wiping the crusty, dry matter off of his face and out of his eyes. Draco didn't bother to fight back. He just tried to process this information that had just been unknowingly given to him. Apparently, Ollivander and Hermione had been mind-wiped, put in the middle of the Forbbiden Forest, and given just enough information so they owuldn't ask questions and wake up their memories. Draco wanted to laugh aloud at the wonderfully sinister heirarchy some clever Death Eater, maybe even Voldemort himself, had dreamed up. Keep the two most intelligent magical people in England innocent as babies in the middle of the forest that no one wanted to go into. It was genius, really. A laugh lodged itself in his throat.

"How did you know my name, er, Master?" Draco asked, almost laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the situation.

"We were sent a message telling us you were coming from the Ultimate Master." The man said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Draco assumed this "Ultimate Master" was the Death Eater that had created this ingenius situation or Lord Voldemort. He was bustling around, cleaning up the spilled tea and taking the tray away, though Draco hadn't gotten the oppurtunity to eat any of the food on the plate. A sense of loss swept through him as the tray left the room. His stomach roared in frustration.

"Master, I think he wants to keep the tray," Hermione said, and Ollivander bought it back. The food would have looked horribly unappetizing if Draco hadn't been starving, almost to the point of death, but he was starving, and he ate the food eagerly and wihout complaint. But, unfortunately, he ate it too fast, and a few minutes after Ollivander carried away the tray, Draco turned green and Hermione had to use the water bowl to catch his vomit.

"Uuuhnn," Draco groaned, laying back on the rope bed.

"Well, that's what you get for eating too fast," Hermione reprimanded, handing Draco a rough mug of the bitter willowbark tea and a small bowl of broth. Draco looked at the cuffs on her wrists. They had obviously been there a long time, healed scars showing where they had rubbed raw and calloused on the tender flesh of her wrists. He remembered how attracted to her he had felt sa she came down the ladder and blushed. How could he not have recognized her? It seemed so obvious now. But she looked like she had lost some weight, replaced a bookworm's flab with a wild woman's muscle. And her hair was knotted and bigger than ever, full of leaves and twigs. She looked like a female Tarzan.

"How did you get here?" Draco asked. Slave was not surprised by the question. She had been watching him watching her, looking at her irons and her legs. But, for some reason she didn't understand, she liked that he was dragging his eyes up and down her. Feeling as if she had done something wrong, she looked away, turning to the window to empty out the water bowl.

"I don't know. I think I've always been here, though I don't remember anything but waking up here one morning and finding Master beside me. It was the most natural thing in the world, and I felt very much at home," Slave answered shyly. The "Draco" made her feel flustered and strange.

"What do you do out here?" Draco asked, curious to no end about these two hermits.

"Well, Master makes wands. I don't really know why he needs so many, but the Ultimate Master comes and takes them to the place where he lives. I keep the books up there," Slave pointed to the highest platform, "For the Ultimate Master and he lets me read them as long as I keep them in order. That's my favorite part."

"It would be," Draco mumbled under his breath.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. What does the Ultimate Master look like, anyway?" Draco continued, trying to hide his burning curiousity.

"Well," Slave said, sitting on a wooden stool next to Draco's cot/hammock. "He's tall, and slim, with black hair and black eyes. And he has a rather unbecoming nose. He always seems angry at me, though I don't know why, but I don't complain, because if I do he might take the books away. They really are wonderful books, full of potions and spells and stories about wizards and witches. Most of them are potion books, but I like them, so I read them, even if they do get to be a bit dull. Would you like to see?" She was flushed with excitement and anticipation at being able to show this stranger her pride and joy. Just like Hermione Granger, thingking everyone is as interested in potions books as she is, Draco thought.

"No, I'm feeling a little ill. Maybe later." Not. Draco didn't have any desire to see those books, and he had a fairly good idea of who they belonged to. It was funny that Snape made Granger and Ollivander call him Ultimate Master when they both could better him in at least one thing magical. But then again, he was a powerful Legilimens, and that was one of the greatest magical powers a wizard could have. Neither one off them was even half as advanced as Snape in that facet. So perhaps Ultimate Master was accurate.

The information Slave had just given him might be useful. If Snape came on a regular basis to check up on them, he would be able to bring Draco up to date on the goings on, tell him how angry all the Death Eaters were, tell him if it was safe to return. Draco had let his mind turn to going back, but he knew he wanted to, even if the little hell hole Voldemort had chosen was miserable, and even if the only people there were cruel and vindictive, it was the only thing he had ever known, and he wanted to go back to it. But for now, he was lost, and he had to be careful not to awaken the dusty memories of these two hermits. They didn't know what damage they could place on his side.

- - - -

Slave left the room as soon as the visitor fell asleep. Some sort of strange feeling overwhelmed her. It was a feeling that embarrassed and shamed her, but made her want to be near that Draco all the time, made her long for his hands on her. It was the first time she had ever wished the shackles were gone so she could be free to touch someone other than Maste rand Ultimate Master. The first time she had wished to be free.

Master came down the stairs to the platform that held her bed and belongings. His misty eyes seemed to look right into her emotions and seek out the one she was feeling.

"You like the boy, then?" he said, not really wanting an answer to that question. Slave nodded anyway. Master took a strand of her bushy, tangled hair into his gnarled old hand. "He's a very fortunate lad, then, to have such a beautiful girl to like him. Would you like to help me gather wood?" Slave grabbed at the chance to go outdoors, such a rare oppurtunity, and ran to get the chains and collar. As Master fastened them in place, she thought about the confusing feelings she was having. She liked him, she knew she did, but something told her she shouldn't, that he wasn't for her. "Ready?" Master asked, hooking the chain to his belt.

"Yes," Slave answered, going down the steps eagerly, two at a time, slowing only when the chain pulled tight on her neck, telling her that Master needed a moment to get his creaky bones down. When they reached the bottom, Master reached over and put matching cufs on Draco's wrists and ankles, chaining him to the bed.

"The Ultimate Master wants him to stay with us for a while. I can't let him slip away while we're gathering wood," Master explained. It made perfect sense to Slave, who nodded and bounced out the door, happy as a school girl with a pound for candy.

- - - -

A/N: Interesting, isn't it? I'm enjoying it immensely. Let's see what happens next! I realize that a pound would buy a lot of candy, or maybe very little, I don't know, but I'm not overly familiar with the British monetary system, so you'll have to bear with me. Thought I'd get this chapter to you quick, since I usually forget what's so exciting about a revelation if I don't read immediately/