Hermione rarely ate breakfast with the other Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor, though Rabastan was known to on occasion, wanting to give Hermione her own space every now and again. And sometimes, he needed space from her when she annoyed him with her boredom.
It made her utterly frustrated. She wouldn't be bored if they didn't keep her locked into that bloody room all the time. Or, if she hadn't been kidnapped from her home and made to only see one or two people a day. She couldn't help it that when Rabastan finally returned home in the evening she was bubbling full of energy and asked him loads of questions, difficult questions. The least that he could do was listen to her complain.
She was surprised when Rabastan told her that they would be joining the others for breakfast that day. After putting on whatever doily dress that Narcissa had selected for her that day, with a scowl on her face, before letting Rabastan dry her hair. Then she accompanied him to the Malfoys' dining area.
Rabastan pulled out her chair for her, settling her between himself and Rodolphus. Ever since the wedding, Rodolphus had been...well, not quite nice to her, but he was certainly kinder to her than Bellatrix was. Still, Hermione couldn't forget the way that he had manhandled her at her wedding, carrying her down the aisle over his shoulder while everyone watched. He also had a disgusting habit of commenting on the heirs she would provide their family. Hermione didn't think that was appropriate to discuss with the unwilling bride of your brother.
Hermione quietly began filling her plate with a slice of quiche lorraine, and some fruit — pineapple, cantaloupe, and the like — while ignoring those around her. Everyone else at the table would ignore her anyway, so she never found a reason to pay attention to them.
But today, she noticed that everyone was definitely talking about her.
"Can't you control your child bride, Rabastan?" Lucius smirked at her husband.
It seemed that Voldemort's little pet name for her had stuck and she understood that it was something that they poked fun at Rabastan about time and time again. She certainly wasn't going to feel bad for him.
"She is driving me mad, with all of her questions," Rabastan said, no sign of a smile on his face.
Hermione scowled at that. "Maybe if you let me out of that room every once in a while I wouldn't be so bored all day," she spat, before thinking of the absurdity of the situation. "You have a home. Why don't you just let me stay there? We wouldn't ever have to see each other."
Rabastan looked like he was about to ignore her, before he addressed her, his slight accent revealed with his stress. "And leave you to your own devices? I think not," he answered. He looked again to Lucius. "See the things that I have to deal with? You were the one that suggested that I marry her, therefore, I demand that you help me locate a playmate for her."
"A playmate?" Lucius asked, his blond eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.
"Stop talking about me like I am not here!" Hermione demanded, but no one paid her any mind.
Rabastan didn't sigh, just stared Lucius down. "Yes, someone her own age — someone that she can discuss her life's complexities with," he explained.
Hermione was a little bit surprised by his reasoning. She could be wrong, but she almost thought that he was trying to look out for her well being.
Lucius scoffed. "You can't possibly be serious."
"Now, Lucius, I am sure that we can come up with something for Hermione," Narcissa said, patting her husband on the arm. "She is, after all, our guest. I will handle it, Rabastan."
Hermione tried to resist a sneer. She hoped Narcissa didn't have plans to take her to little pureblood tea parties where she could be gossiped about with the likes of Pansy Parkinson's mother. Still, it would be nice to have someone new to talk with.
It hadn't taken very long for the Malfoys to find Hermione a suitable playmate, as Rabastan told her. It was midday, when he stopped by at lunch to tell her that he would be escorting her to the library for her first playdate.
"Would you stop calling me a child? Not only is it completely demeaning, but it doesn't make you look any better either," she pointed out.
"Sorry. You are, of course, obviously a woman," he said, resisting the urge to leer at her.
How could he forget that she was a woman? He constantly was waking up hard, dreams of her in his head. She wore little nightgowns that Narcissa had gotten for her and it showed off just enough toned thigh to be enticing. Further, it had happened more than once that he'd woken up, spooning her, the curve of her arse pressed against his cock. It was getting ridiculous.
"Thank you," Hermione said, surprised that he was being civil with her. "Of course, it will be nice to talk to someone new, but I don't see the point in calling it a playdate. Who knows...if it's someone I hate, it might not be very pleasant at all."
Rabastan smiled at this, knowing who it was that was already waiting for her in the library. Calling the House Elf to take their plates away, Rabastan stood, offering Hermione his arm, which she took, surprised that he was being such a gentleman.
When they arrived at the door to the library, Rabastan took Hermione by the shoulders. "I will be back to get you before dinner. Enjoy." Hermione felt her heart rate quicken when she noticed that his eyes lingered on her lips. "Oh, and darling, the room is warded, so don't try to get away."
Hermione stepped inside the library and found that the couch in front of the huge fireplace — fire raging inside of it — was occupied by a head of blond hair that she never thought that she was going to see again.
"Oh, no. It can't be you. It can't possibly be you," she said, sounding utterly miserable.
Draco's head snapped to look at her. "Granger. I have to say it is a surprise to see you here," he said with a smirk. "Of course, I heard about the wedding. It's not really right to call you Granger anymore, is it, Lestrange?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "Malfoy. How does it feel to know that you have been given the duty of being my so-called playmate for the day?" she asked, stepping closer to him. "Not really the kind of thing that would make you want to sign up for the Death Eaters, is it?"
Draco frowned for a moment, before mumbling. "Anything to get me out of the bloody school."
Hermione was surprised to hear that and sat down on the opposite side of the couch from her. "What do you mean? I thought that you would love having the Death Eaters in charge of the school. No more Mudbloods like me, and you can walk around like you own the place, because you do."
Draco frowned. "I hate it. We aren't really learning anything. It is basically controlled chaos," he revealed.
Hermione snorted. "Are you sure? You loved being on the Inquisitorial squad, when Umbridge was in charge," she countered. She remembered how proud Draco walked around the school, with that stupid badge on his chest.
"Yeah, well, it's different now," he said, clearly irritated.
Hermione was surprised. "Different how?" she asked, nervously.
"They have basically given the Death Eaters free reign of the school. Severus tries to keep them in line, but it's nearly impossible to come up with a reason to protect the half-bloods," he told her, a grim look on his face. "Most of the Death Eaters here are controlled, but the ones they have at the school, they are sick, sadistic."
"Are you sure it's okay to talk about this here?" Hermione asked, looking around wildly. She couldn't imagine that Voldemort or Lucius would take kindly to this kind of discussion. She knew Rabastan only allowed her to spout off her anger at the Dark Lord in their chambers because he thought it was cute — like a puppy who nibbled on your finger.
This got some of Draco's swagger back. "Of course Gra-Lestrange," he quipped with a smirk. "I am a Malfoy after all, and the Manor is fortified with blood wards. No one can hear into this room unless I want them too. Besides, you are really the only person I can talk about this with."
Hermione was surprised to hear that, but she supposed that it was true. He probably wasn't telling Pansy Parkinson or Theo Nott that he hated having the Death Eaters in control. "Well, that's good I suppose. I am sorry that things aren't going as you expected. But honestly, what did you expect?" she pressed.
"I still expected to learn something!" he snapped at her. "Instead they have us practicing curses on the First Years."
"Wow, I never expected to say this, but I guess I am glad that I didn't go back," Hermione admitted. Of course, she knew that she never would have been allowed back, being a Muggleborn, but she couldn't imagine hurting one of the little eleven year olds. What could they possibly have done to deserve such a treatment?
At least here with Rabastan she was able to do a little bit of interesting work with Ancient Runes, and of course he was rather good with Arithmancy. It had been the topic of more than one of their conversations. She really thought that he could have gotten a Mastery quite easily, if he hadn't been imprisoned in Azkaban.
"So, how did you find yourself here anyway, Granger?" Malfoy asked. "I mean, I heard about your wedding and everything."
Hermione frowned, picking at the lace of her dress. "I was sent a Ministry letter with a sticking charm on it. It was a portkey. In less than twenty four hours, your uncle was dragging me kicking and screaming down the aisle to marry Rabastan," she explained, her eyes dropping to her lap.
"And, Rabastan has been...a gentleman? He hasn't been taking any liberties with you?" Malfoy asked, the seriousness in his voice belied by the pink tint on his pale cheeks.
"Why Malfoy, it almost sounds like you care about me," she deadpanned, enjoying how much she was making him uncomfortable. "Yes, Rabastan has been a gentleman, though I think he likes to make me uncomfortable by mentioning sex whenever the situation calls for it."
Malfoy seemed horrified at the casual way she said that. Hermione giggled at his pointy face. Besides, what was he going to do about it if she had revealed that Rabastan was assaulting her? Blood wards or no, she didn't think he was going to break her out.
"I haven't had sex with him Malfoy, don't worry," she added.
"Good. Well, I mean it's good that he hasn't...forced himself on you. What you choose to do in your own time is, of course, your own business," Malfoy said, his eyes looking pointedly away from her. He cleared his throat. "And, how is everything else? No one else causing you issues?"
"No, I rarely see anyone but Rabastan as he keeps me locked up in his room," she said. Hermione couldn't help but smirk when he looked distinctly uncomfortable again. Was he just realizing that she was a woman and that others might desire her in that way? "But, I don't appreciate the way that your mother has made me into some kind of living doll. She picks out my outfit every day. She somehow got my measurements and won't tell me how," Hermione complained to him.
"Well, I know that she always wanted a daughter," Draco told her, not feeling at all sorry for her. "But my father couldn't be convinced after he got his heir. You should be thankful to be dressed in such finery."
"I just want my jeans back," Hermione whined.
Draco smirked at her. "I might be able to put in a good word for you. They are starting to make a bit of a splash in the fashion world. Anything else that I can do to make your stay more enjoyable, while you are a guest in my ancestral home?" he asked, his silvery gray eyes looking over her face.
"Well..." Hermione started, biting her lip. Suddenly, she didn't feel quite so confident, but she promised herself that she wasn't going to cry in front of Malfoy. "I didn't get to say goodbye to Harry or Ron, you know, as I was kidnapped and didn't have time to prepare to leave. I just wish that...I had some way to let them know that I am okay."
Draco nodded. "Well, I won't be contacting Scarhead and Weaselbee, but I think I can get the word out," he told her. It was the least he could do for the poor Muggleborn girl. Honestly, he didn't really like Hermione Granger that much, but she didn't deserve being forced to marry Rabastan, even though he was okay as far as Death Eaters went.
By the time that Rabastan returned, Hermione and Draco were laughing about Harry's terrible dancing at the Yule Ball all those years ago. They weren't friends, per se, but it was almost as if they were friends of convenience. Rabastan was surprised to see Hermione looking so happy for a change and was glad to see that her playdate had the desired effect. He did want to keep his wife happy after all.
When he walked her back to their rooms for a quiet dinner together, he looked at the serene look on her face. "Should I be worried about how well you are getting along with Draco?" he asked her, a seed of jealousy deep in his chest. He knew of their previous animosity.
Hermione smiled at him. "I wouldn't worry, Malfoy just promised to talk to Narcissa about my wardrobe. He understands that I feel a bit like a dress up doll to her. He said he might even be able to talk her into getting me some jeans," she explained.
"Jeans?" Rabastan asked, unfamiliar with the concept.
"You know, denim pants?" she asked. Seeing the blank stare on Rabastan's face, she figured that he had no idea what she was talking about. "Don't worry about it. Hopefully, I can just show them to you in the near future."
Rabastan nodded and decided that he would ask Narcissa to bring Draco back for another weekend soon. She was especially animated in their discussion over dinner, but he found that he didn't mind it one bit, quite taken by the sparkle in her eyes.
When Draco made it back to Hogwarts, he made a point of it to go and find Neville Longbottom. He walked into the lanky boy, who had annoyingly gone through what seemed like another growth spurt over the summer, making him stand nearly a head taller than Draco. "Watch where you are going Longbottom," he hissed.
"You have to be kidding me Malfoy," Neville spat back, no longer the timid boy he'd once been. "You ran into me."
"Well Longbottom, you should have learned by now how to get out of the way of your superiors," Malfoy said, a mean little smile on his face. "Speaking of, you will never guess who has completely bent to the will of her superiors. Mudblood Granger."
"What are you talking about Malfoy?" Longbottom asked, clearly confused.
"I just saw her this weekend. She is settling in ever so nicely, being married to Rabastan Lestrange, my uncle's brother. He keeps her locked up in his bedroom nearly all the time," Malfoy said, hoping the insinuation was enough to keep the other Slytherins in the dark about his trickery. Judging by the chuckles around him, he would suppose that it worked.
"If even one hair on her head is harmed, Malfoy, so help me Merlin—" Longbottom started. "When this is over I will hold you personally responsible."
"Relax, Longbottom. She is in the finest clothes and eating the best food, and she can read whatever books she wants to," Malfoy said, a sneer on his face. "Far better than the likes of a Mudblood like her deserves, if you ask me."
Malfoy thought that Hermione was being treated much better than he expected. And he had even found her a book on artifacts of the founders for her to read in his library, though she didn't say why she chose the subject.
Just then, Longbottom couldn't hold back his rage any more and tried to swing at Malfoy, only to be held back by Seamus. "Come on, Nev, he's just trying to get you riled up. It's not worth it," the other Gryffindor said.
Neville took a deep breath before turning and leaving smirking Malfoy with his sick, Slytherin friends.
As he was walking down the hall, he heard Nott ask Malfoy. "Does Rabastan really get to fuck Granger? I am sure that she's enjoying a practical demonstration for a change. You know that the only action she got before was from books."
Neville was so upset that he fumed all the way back to the Room of Requirement, which was just in its infant stages of being a hideout. It wasn't until much later that Neville realized something was rather odd about his conversation with Malfoy.
Was it just him, or had Malfoy been telling him that Hermione was safe and well cared for? Of course, he said it in his own crude way, but Neville supposed that he would have to in order to not seem out of character. Also, Neville probably wouldn't have believed him if he was told in any other way.
It was just that nobody knew what had happened to Hermione. Members of the D.A. and the Order knew that she was missing, after having been told so by Harry and Ron. They said that she'd been portkeyed against her will and that no one had seen hide or tail of her since then.
Deciding that he had to let the Order know, at least, he sat down to pen Remus a quick note. Letting a small smile form on his face, Neville felt some of his tension leave his body. Sure, Malfoy was a little shit, but that was a kind thing to do, nonetheless. He didn't have to let Hermione's friends know that she was safe, but he had anyway.