A/N: And yet another….came to me in my sleep last night. I was actually up until 1:00 am going over and over a certain scene in my head. I almost got up and wrote it down right then, but I decided to wait till now. Hopefully it's as good here as it was in my head!
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He had watched them bring her in a few weeks ago; watched as they threw her into the cell as if she were a rag doll. He had also been there when she had first been presented to the Dark Lord. He watched as he inspected her as if she were some piece of meat. Listened as he declared his plans of making her his Queen.
She had changed a lot over the weeks. Actually, he had seen her change a lot over the years since their graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her once brave exterior had become a mere shell of her former self. Her eyes, which once shown bright with knowledge and happiness, were now dimly lit. It was as if someone had lit a candle, only to let it burn down to a hilt.
When she had first come he could tell that she was torn. That there was something wrong, other than the fact that she had just been captured by the enemy of course, and that it had hurt her deep. He had begun feeling sorry for this woman, if that were a possible emotion from someone like himself, a known Death Eater, and wished that there was something that he could do for her. Throughout school, she had annoyed him to no end, but now, seeing her like this, he would give anything for her to look at him and say some insult, some smart Gryffindor-like remark; anything would be welcome over her silence.
Over the past few weeks that she had been here, he had been keeping watch on her. He would not allow any of the other creeps that inhabited the hell whole they were in to lay their hands on her. His excuse would always be that the Dark Lord would not be happy with their behavior, but he knew different. He knew that the Dark Lord could give a hippogriffs ass in hell what happened to a lowly mud blood like her. He only wanted her for breeding purposes, and allowing some of his pureblood followers to taint her blood might make her all the more pure for him.
He was alarmed when the Dark Lord himself had called him up into his personal chambers and asked to have conference with him. He could only imagine the worst, for he knew what Lord Voldemort was capable of. As it turned out, however, the Dark Lord merely wished to give him a job; watching and taking care of the mud blood.
Draco knew he must have visibly relaxed when his orders were issued, but if the Dark Lord noticed he said nothing. Still in shock, he had made his way to the dungeons. This was where he found himself now, staring at her in her prison. Slowly he opened the door, all the time watching her for any semblance of movement. There was none. She just sat there on her bed, lost in her own mind and staring at the wall unblinkingly.
He slowly approached her, being ever cautious. He didn't wish to startle her, merely to help her get cleaned up. His orders were to take her somewhere until she got better so that she would be presentable at her wedding when the time came, and that's just what he planned to do. He would take her to the manor, she would be safe there. His mother and father were no more. His father has been killed by an Auror a while back, and his mother had died recently of heart failure.
He sat down on the bed beside of her and put a hand on her arm gently. "Granger?" he said. She didn't respond. "Hermione?" he tried again. This time he thought he saw a hint of recognition in her eyes, but she made no sound. "Come, were taking you somewhere safe. It's his wishes for his future wife to be safe." he said, emphasizing the Dark Lord, hoping that maybe she would refuse. That maybe she would put up some sort of fight. Anything would be welcome at this point.
When she didn't, he gathered her in his arms reluctantly. He still wasn't comfortable with contact with her, but he knew it was necessary. Lowering the wards around the cell with a flick of his wand, he apparated them to the back steps of Malfoy Manor. He took her into the house and began calling for his house elf, Tizzy. The creature appeared with a pop in front of him.
"Y-yes, masters? What can Tizzy do for the Sir?" she said fearfully, seeing the still girl in her masters' arms.
"Prepare a room for Ms. Granger." he said. Her eyes grew wide as she was not used to her master bringing home girls. "And…prepare her a bath as well." he added before she left.
He carried Hermione to the nearest room and sat her down on a sofa. She was still quiet, but she was taking in her surroundings with a wary eye. She was also peering at him every so often.
'Probably wondering what the bloody hell I'm doing.' he thought to himself. 'Well, if I knew, I'd tell her.' He ran a frustrated hand threw his blond hair. He had cut it a few months back, the long blond locks dying with his father. Now he kept it short, but still stylish. Wanting to look good was something that would never leave him.
Another pop announced Tizzy's return.
"I is done, Master. The bath is ready for Missy." came the elf's voice.
"Very well." He said, gathering her into his arms. "Which room did you prepare, then?" he asked, annoyed with himself for not asking earlier.
Tizzy looked scared. "Tizzy prepared the green room, sir, on the third floor. If Master wishes, she will prepare another…" the elf said, hesitantly.
Draco shook his head. "No, no. The green room will be fine. Come along." he told her, climbing the staircase that lead to the upper levels of the Manor.
When he entered the room, he laid her gently on the bed. He stared at her for a few minutes, unsure of how to go about getting her into the bath. He would have done it himself, but something told him that she wouldn't appreciate that too much.
Tizzy seemed to pick up on his attitude. "Uh, Master?" she said, warily.
"What?" he jerked his head in her direction.
"Master, Tizzy could help Missy, if Master wants her too. It would be Tizzy's pleasure, sir." the elf said, fumbling with the tattered shirt she was wearing. That was one thing that Draco's mother had done when his father had died. She had freed all the house elves. They were now paid 10 galleons a week for their services.
"Uh…sure. Do that, Tizzy. I will wait in her sitting room, inform me when you are finished."
--About 5 minutes later, Tizzy returned from the bathroom looking scandalized. Draco stood up immediately.
"What is it?" he asked, worriedly.
Tizzy looked at the floor. "Missy says that she will do it herself. She didn't want…." she began, sobbing so much that Draco barely understood her.
"She spoke? What didn't she want, Tizzy?" he asked, clearly shocked that she had actually spoken.
"Missy didn't want help from…from a slave!" Tizzy exclaimed, throwing her hands over her eyes and bawling loudly.
Draco couldn't help but smirk. The words S.P.E.W. suddenly popped into his head. Hermione had been clearly against house elves when they were in school. She even had little buttons with those words emblazoned on them for her supporters to wear. Unfortunately, her supporters consisted of her close friends and family, but she had a few nonetheless. Draco and his friends had thought it a joke.
"Well then, let her do it herself, Tiz." he said, looking at the elf fondly. She had been around since before he was born and had taken care of him as a child. It was no wonder that she would cry at the refusal to take care of somebody.
His thoughts were interrupted as Hermione came out of the bathroom wearing the clothes that he was sure Tizzy had provided for her. Her hair was sopping wet and she looked miserable. He watched her as she silently made her way to the bed and clambered onto it. She then looked at him with a flat expression.
"Get it over with, then." she said, beginning to take off her shirt.
He just stared at her in complete and udder shock. What was she wanting him to do?
"Excuse me?" he asked, ever the polite one. Well, now at the very least. Not in school.
She stared at him quizzically before rolling her eyes. "Don't try to play dumb with me, Malfoy. While I am not at my best, I am certainly not stupid. Get it over with." she spat, malice dripping from her words through her apparent exhaustion. She reached down and began to disrobe herself even further, but he stopped her with his hand held up.
"Wait, I don't have any idea what you are talking about. What exactly am I supposed to be getting 'over with'?" he said, staring at her intensely.
She just sat there, in nothing but her bra and pants, and stared at him evenly. "Oh, whatever it is that your precious Dark Lord asked you to. You'd all do anything he wants. I presume that he wants you to break me in for him, eh?" she said, trying to smirk but failing miserably.
All he could do was stare at her. "I think you have the wrong idea. I mean, yeah, the Dark Lord did ask me to bring you here, but not to 'break you in' as you say. Merely to do the Master's bidding, that's all. You are to be his wife."
She stared at him, her bottom lip quivering. There was some sort of emotion in her eyes that he didn't recognize.
"What?" he asked. Crying girls weren't his specialty. Crying prisoners were worse.
"You don't want me either."
Her words bit at him. Of course he didn't want her. Did he? Of course, she was rather pretty now that she was cleaned up, and she was his intellectual equal. But he'd never considered anything else with her. He'd only brought her to his home because it was an order. It wasn't like he cared for her or anything. She was a mud blood.
"What are you talking about, Granger? I don't have the patience for your games."
"He didn't want me . That's why he hasn't come rescued me. He would rather have her. My best friend." she said through her silent tears. "I thought he loved me." she said.
All he could do was shake his head. This was one love stricken witch. He vaguely wondered who she was talking about. It had to be either Potter or the Weasel. Bit this did help it all come together for him.
Even the Dark Lord himself had wondered why it had been so easy to capture Granger. Usually she would put up one hell of a fight. Now, at least, he could assume that they had got to her on the night that she'd had her heart shattered. That's why it was so easy. She was broken. She didn't care if she lived or died.
He felt a pang of anger build up in him at that thought. How could someone hurt her so bad and then not even care to come after her? That's exactly why he steered clear of love. It would get you nothing but an early grave.
"Well, I am sincerely sorry, but you need sleep. Goodnight, Ms. Granger. I shall send Tizzy to fetch you for breakfast in the morning. Or you could eat in here if you prefer." he stated before leaving the room and shutting the door behind hi