A/N: Pffft. Where have all of my reviewers gone? I mean, thank you very much though, to those of you who did review. I loved them all! Anyways on with the story!

A Mudblood's Slave?

The carriage pulled to a halt and the two wizards clambered out. Draco stretched his fingers towards the sky, making his body elongate as he yawned. He then popped his neck and scratched under his collar.

"Well then," Hermione said, her hands on her hips. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Don't care," Draco muttered, walking off, slightly bad tempered. He went around the house when a loud high-pitched noise filled his ears and something small landed upon his shoulders. He stopped dead, very startled; as he felt small pointy things dig into his skin. He reached around and grasped the little attacker around its mid section and brought it into his view to find a small white kitten clutched in his hand.

"What the hell?" he asked, looking up at the sky, seeing as there was nothing else it could've fallen off of. The mysterious little creature began to scurry wildly in his hand and he squeezed trying to keep a hold of it. "See here, you!" he said, grabbing its small back legs as it hissed at him.

"What's all the commotion here?" Hermione called running to catch up to Draco.

"This… This thing," Draco said, his nose wrinkled in disgust as it wriggled in his pale fingers.

"Oh look! You found a kitty!" she cooed, taking the little cotton ball out of his hand and cuddling it. It still thrashed madly; it's shiny gray eyes wide with fear. Draco merely rolled his eyes and made his way towards the cottage.

"If you put it any closer to your face Granger, it'll have a heart attack from the mere shock of how ugly you are," Draco snapped over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Hermione glared at him from under her lion's mane and grumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Immature, ungrateful little shit!" She then followed him into the small cottage to find him lying on her small couch with one of her thicker books in his hand. She let the kitten down and it ran to hide beneath Draco's large hand where it disappeared completely.

"What the-" he began. He lifted his hand to find the snowy white kitten cowering against the material of the red couch. Hermione's interior decoration had a theme of Gryffindor colors. Draco's room had gray, unpainted walls that were blank and formal. When asked, he hadn't wanted to do anything with his room… The nothingness suited him, in Hermione's opinion. He had always been unreadable to her.

"Looks like she likes you," Hermione replied, snatching her book out of his grasp.

"I was going to read that," he said stubbornly.

"Well, too bad. This is the book I'm reading right now. That's why it was on the arm rest," Hermione snapped. She then sat in her cushiony little recliner and put her feet up, slipping off her shoes as she went.

"We're not going to keep this thing are we?" Draco asked, holding the kitten suspended in the air and as far away from his body as he could.

"Why not keep her?" Hermione asked. Draco turned the kitten around and glanced under its tail to check its gender. Yup, girl…

"Because its mother is probably looking for it some where outside and she will be very worried to discover one of her baby's is missing." Draco replied, setting the kitten down, only so it climbed up the couch and into his lap. Hermione giggled.

"What is wrong with this thing?" he asked, plucking it off of his lap again.

"She only wants you because you don't want her," Hermione replied. "Plus, she can probably sense that you need to relax a bit."

Draco made a noise in his throat, his tongue sticking out, and sat up, bringing the kitten with him. He then set the little snowy white puffball in Hermione's lap and went into his room, shutting the door behind him.

The kitten looked up at Hermione defiantly, her big ears back, plastered against her small head, before jumping from her lap and hurrying away to explore the rest of the house.

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That night, Hermione peeked in on Draco to find him asleep on his bed, almost naked, a pillow placed loosely between his legs. From where she stood, she could see the Dark Mark on his left arm. It had faded since the Dark Lord was killed, but it was still there as a constant reminder.

The moonlight gleamed off of his skin and she could see that his body was slowly becoming more muscular. He shifted, and rolled onto his back, before he grunted and turned his face away from her.

How was it someone could look so innocent when they were unconscious, but so evil when they were awake?

For some reason, he looked boyishly young as the moonlight played on his features. And it reminded her of when they were in school. He had only been a child, with the responsibilities of the world set upon his shoulders. No doubt because of his father, but it was clear that Malfoy hadn't been able to handle it.

And now he was here, a prisoner in her home. She didn't think it was right that he had been robbed of opportunities in life he should've been promised to at such a young age. She knew very well that Draco could've been anything he set his mind to. But he was expected to be a Death Eater before he was even brought onto the Earth by his mother, and was doomed the first time Lucius held him in his arms.

She hoped bitterly that Lucius Malfoy was proud, wherever the coward lay that night…

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Lucius Malfoy sat next to the window in his fine Wizard's Hotel. Goyle lay on the bed closest to him snoring loudly. The blonde headed man was very troubled at what he saw in Diagon Alley that day. It almost seemed as if his son and the mudblood were…well…friends! He shivered with disgust as he remembered Draco plucking food off of Granger's plate as if it were a daily routine.

"What has become of you Draco?" he whispered to the darkness. He wished he could locate his son and take him away from Granger's lair. Who knew what kind of nonsense she was filling his head with? God may know, but Lucius Malfoy did not. He did know, however, that Draco had always been easily influenced. It had never taken much to convince him of anything before.

What if the Granger witch had gotten to him?

Lucius felt obligated to find out the whereabouts of his only child. There was hope for the boy yet… And perhaps one day they could pick up on where their pathetic Dark Lord had left off and take over his duties. One thing was for sure. Lucius Malfoy never gave up. Seeing as everything had been taken from him, he was determined to get it back. Using every means necessary.

Oh yes, the world of muggle borns and half-breeds would end with a loud bang. If they wanted to be recognized for what they really were, Lucius would give them the credit they always deserved. He found he was grasping the arm of his chair hard, his knuckles turning white.

"It will be for you Cissy," he whispered. "And the girls, and Draco."

At this, he'd begun to devise plans. There was still a good amount of Death Eaters out there who hadn't been captured. He knew for a fact that a lot of them were still roaming around free, out in the open just as he was. He would track them down and see what they thought about a comeback.

It seemed old habits died hard when it came to the oldest living Malfoy. But he was one of the most powerful dark wizards left on this Earth and as long as he was in a position to do something, he would do all he could to strike fear back into people's hearts.

When he'd heard that man that owned the milk shop had disrespected his son, a Malfoy, and a pureblood? Oh, Lucius had felt his whole world blacken. Yes indeed, they had forgotten their places. And as long as he was still free… He would bring them all back down to Earth.

A cold sneer curled across his features as he slowly morphed back into Matthias Llewellyn, his eyes turning green, the moonlight reflected in them. It was a done deed… The wizarding community had officially gotten Lucius Malfoy extremely pissed off.

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The sky had clouded over from all of the smoke the different spells had caused as their essence entered the sky. Men were screaming and dying all around him. Draco could hear blood pounding in his ears as he dodged spell after spell. He tripped and found himself face to face with one of his fellow Death Eaters. From the looks of him, he'd been dead a long time. Horrified, Draco jumped to his feet only to find a wand in his face, held by none other than Ron Weasley.

Ronald, the boy who'd never really done anything horrible to Draco. Up until now, they'd been pretty neutral when it came to each other's existence. Only throwing insults at each other when they came face to face.

Draco wiped the sweat from his eyes and waited for his fate to be delivered. Only when he looked into Ron's eyes, he didn't see satisfaction there… No only sadness lingered in the Weasel's eyes. Sadness that things couldn't be different.

It was then that Draco saw him. His Uncle Lestrange creeping up behind Ron, his eyes crazy and unfocused. It seemed time stopped for Draco as his mind battled. The Dark Lord was already dead, and Draco's purpose on this battlefield shot to hell. When he thought about it, he couldn't remember what had made him want to join Voldemort in the first place.

"Avada Kedavra!" he screamed, a jet of green escaping his wand, hitting his Uncle square in the chest. Ron turned around in shock, seeing the dead Death Eater lying sprawled behind him. When he looked back, Draco had his wand pointed in Ron's face, an evil smirk playing on his features.

"I never-"

"-liked him much anyway," Draco said in his sleep. Sweat soaked the sheet below him and he suddenly woke up, his gray eyes wide. The war flashes had been coming and going ever since the real fighting had ended. He remembered that night. He hadn't killed Ron for reasons even unknown to himself. He just couldn't do it. It was like killing one of his childhood adversaries would be killing a part of himself. When he thought about it, he didn't want to see Ronald Weasley's corpse before him. It brought him no satisfaction at all.

That was around the time he realized how horribly bad things had gotten. But he supposed that's why Ronald Weasley hadn't killed him either. It was like having to stand up and become an adult. Really look at things for what they were and stop sugarcoating everything. This was not a childish spat going on in the halls of Hogwarts School. This was real… life or death.

And it was then, that the two of them went there separate ways, never looking back. That was a week before the war ended. Draco never saw Ron again, until he stood in Hermione's kitchen.

Draco wiped the remaining sweat off of his face and rubbed his eyes. He was really tiring of these night terrors. He laid back down, on his back staring out of his window. He hoped he never had to visit that old battlefield again…

A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers. Hope you liked the chapter. Make sure to review people! I will love you forever, and update quicker! See I'm bribing you, he he. Anyways. Thanks for taking the time. xoxo