Draco Malfoy drawled, "Father, I think this is a brilliant idea. After all, we all know how annoying house elves are."
"Yes. And the mudbloods make good slaves too. They are such good replacements," Lucius said in the same tone as his son. "And they are nicer to look at too. House elves are so," he paused, considering, then continued. "Short."
"And they're much more amusing to torture. House elves are always so eager to hurt themselves." Draco Malfoy continued, "Mudbloods make more mistakes as well. More punishments."
Both father and son laughed, sounding identical.
"Well, I have business to attend to," his father announched. He looked at the slaves one more time with a critical eye then turned back to his son and said, "Keep an eye on them. If any need punishment, you have my full permission to punish them in," his father stopped, and smiled, "Any way which you consider suitable."
His son smiled at this. In other words, his father was giving him permission to kill some of the mudbloods if he wanted to.
*
Draco Malfoy was walking through the kitchen. Mudbloods were working all around him. He hadn't seen anybody he wanted to 'punish' yet.
And then he froze suddenly.
A girl was working right in front of him. She was wearing pyjamas ends and a spaghetti string top. Her hair was tied up high on her head and she was wearing a look of pure misery.
"Well, well, well," he said in his most patronising voice. "If it isn't my favourite Mudblood."
She turned and looked at him.
Yes, Draco thought. Granger.
Her eyes widened slightly then fell to the ground. He could actually feel her wondering what the hell to do.
She looked back up at him and said, "Hello Sir", in a polite voice.
Oh, this is too good. Draco smirked at her. "Sir? Not Malfoy? Not ferret?"
Her lips tugged slightly like she wanted to laugh. Instead she said, "Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"
"Hmm… I'm sure I'll think of something for you to do. Since you are my slave." He emphasised on the 'slave'.
She turned back to her work.
"Hey Granger," he said sharply. "I'm not finished talking to you yet."
She turned back with a face of polite indifference.
"What are you making?" he asked.
She glanced back to the big pot in front of her. "Stew."
"We surely don't have to eat that," Draco said, disgusted.
"No, sir, but we Muggleborns have to," she said in a flat tone. "It's dinner."
"Oh, and who said you slaves got fed?"
"Your father, sir," she answered, trying to hide a smirk. "He wants us to work to our best ability."
"I suppose we don't want you to get all skinny and weak. But you look skinny enough now, Granger."
She did. He examined her briefly. She looked like a slave. He noticed she had a lot of bruises and scars as well. He smiled at this. Somebody had punished her already.
"There's not always food for us all, sir. I prefer it when the children get fed," she said as if reciting a poem. Her voice was very flat and nearly bored.
"When did you get captured? Last I heard, you'd ran for it," he asked. He was waiting for her to slip up. Make one mistake. Call him Malfoy, maybe, or answer back.
"I got captured about a week ago. I'm not really sure what day it was," she mumbled. She was tired.
"Who hurt you?" he asked.
"I didn't recognise him," she answered.
"Why did they hurt you?"
"I'm very busy, sir," she gestured towards the pot. "If you could excuse me?"
"You're not excused," Draco said with a sneer. That's it, he thought. I'll stall her and then that'll burn and then I can punish her.
"They hurt me," she said. "Because I was disrespectful."
"How were you disrespectful?"
"I said something which wasn't tolerable."
"What did you say, Granger?"
He knew already.
She looked down and when she looked up she was wearing a smile. She bit her lip, looked him right in the eye and said pleasantly, "I called you a bouncing ferret."
He smirked. "Well, as a slave, you had no right to say that."
She leaned back, looking like the old know-it-all Granger that he loved to loathe. "So, I guess you have to punish me," she said.
*
Hermione had tried. She had tried so hard. She had called him sir. She had been polite and then he kept talking and the annoyance kept bubbling inside her stomach, accompanied by hunger and exhaustion. She didn't even care now that he was going to punish her.
She didn't give a damn.
She didn't give a damn about much lately. Even if Malfoy killed her, she wouldn't care. Because if this is all her life was going to consist of, being a slave to the Malfoys, then she was better off dead.
She really didn't want Malfoy to have the satisfaction of killing her though.
If only I had my wand, Hermione thought bitterly. In a duel, she probably would have won against him.
She was also totally wear of her lack of clothes at the moment too. She had been woken up in the middle of the night and hadn't really considered putting on her jeans at the time.
Malfoy sneering at her didn't make her feel very comfortable.
She wondered if he'd curse her, or beat her up, or what. The last punishment had consisted of getting slapped around a bit but most of her bruises were actually from falling in the forest when she had been trying to escape the death eater a week ago.
She realised that other slaves were looking at them too. Many of the younger slaves had got quite attached to Hermione in the last week as she usually gave up her meal to them if they were going hungry. She had comforted them as well because they were so terrified.
And then when she had got 'punished' previously, she was considered brave by them.
Hermione didn't know if they would take her getting killed very well. They really needed someone to take care of them.
God, what are they going to do on their own in this place?
She looked briefly at Malfoy. He looked the exact same as always. He was always so cold and cruel. He could watch everybody in this room die and he wanted even flinch. Just because they were mudbloods.
She cringed inwardly as she thought of herself as a mudblood. Stupid word that Malfoy had got in her head.
She didn't feel particularly afraid either.
She met Malfoy's cold glare with one of her own.
*
All the curses he knew ran through his head. He'd waited a long time to get revenge on Granger. He just wished Potter and Weasley were there to watch.
"Where are Potter and Weasley anyway?" he asked in a sneer.
She frowned, "I don't know." Then her frown lifted into nasty smile, practically a mirror of his own. "After all, I am a slave. I don't hear that much about the outside world. But at least, you're here, Malfoy." She laughed bitterly. Like he was the one thing that could have made her situation worse.
He slammed her back into the table. She let out a squeak as pain shot up through her. "What happened to calling me 'sir', slave?"
"Guess my respect went the same way my freedom did," she barked back.
He laughed, curses still running through his head. The question was, would he kill her or let her last a bit longer?
Yes, this was perfect. Granger would be the first person he ever killed. It'd be a turning point in his life, where he'd become the best death eater around and wouldn't take the shit she gave him.
Actually, he'd have liked to have her around, for when he was more than just a rich snob. He'd have liked to see her really afraid, maybe begging for her life. Because even if he killed her now, she wouldn't beg. He knew by the look in Granger's eyes.
She was a brave mudblood. The very worst kind of mudblood there was. But they're nearly extinct now, he thought with a Malfoy smirk.
Granger was so proud of herself, so happy with herself, looking at him like he was dirt. When all she was, was a filthy muggle.
"I wonder how long it'd take for you to break, slave," He kicked her in the stomach for good measure. She gasped at his sudden movement and her sudden pain. "For you to beg at my feet."
"You'll never see it, sir." She spat her words at him angrily. "Now, if you're going to punish me, can you do it somewhere else? Everyone's looking at us."
Malfoy turned, casting a disgusted look at the slaves. "Maybe they'll learn a lesson. After all, that's what you do, isn't it Granger? Learn stuff and teach it to others. That's all you did in Hogwarts. Don't you want to teach your fellow slaves?"
"They already know, Malfoy. Anyway, look, everything's in our way. If you want my death to last, I'll have to try run and all that. You might as well make your first kill good," she said reasonably.
"Fine," he said calmly. He didn't ask how she knew it was his first kill. She was so annoyingly smart, even now. "Take this." It was a watch. An old one, too unworthy for him. "When it's seven, go to the door of the kitchen and wait there. The picture there won't let you out, so don't bother trying."
With that, he walked out, black cloak swishing behind him.
*
Hermione looked at the watch. It was six o'clock. She grimaced. In an hour, she died.
She gave out the slightly burnt stew around to the salves. Like usual there wasn't enough for everybody. Some of the older slaves gave up their food to the younger ones. Hermione, though only 16, gave hers up, not minding since in an hour she was dead anyway.
The younger slave who now was eating her stew, looked up at Hermione and said worriedly, "He's going to kill you, isn't he?" She was probably a first year at Hogwarts. She had a kind elfin face, long blonde hair that consisted of strong curls and a kind of lurking knowledge in her china blue eyes. But then again, maybe Hermione was just seeing things.
Hermione gave her a gentle smile. "Probably," she said truthfully.
"But who is he?"
"His name's Draco Malfoy. His father owns this place. Now, listen to me!" Attention, from many, was turned to her. "Don't mess with Draco Malfoy, okay? I know you saw me being, um, cheeky to him. But I know him, and he was going to kill me anyway. You have a chance. Just don't piss him off. Oh yeah, and you have to call everyone "sir". Got that?"
They all gave curt nods.
"Hermione," a malign voice said. She turned and saw Justin Finch there, looking at her sadly.
She jumped into his arms to give a hug. She hadn't even known him that well in Hogwarts but it was so nice to see a familiar face, apart from Malfoy's, of course.
"I'm sorry you got to get, um, 'punished' so soon." Justin said gently. "You going to be okay?"
She smiled knowingly. "I'll be fine."
"Okay, now, let's get back to work, people!" Justin said, clapping his hands together. "We don't want him to see us not working. He should be here in," he glanced at the watch strapped to Hermione's slender wrist, "Five minutes, so get a move on."
Five minutes.
Then I die.
*
Draco Malfoy was feeling very smug with himself. Wearing dark robes, and a killer smile, he leaned against the wall and waited for Granger to come.
She was there, at exactly seven. Her brown eyes looked him up and down with obvious dislike.
He grinned at her. "How's it going, Granger?"
She didn't answer. Slowly she looked away then looked back, "I'm ready."
"This way," He gestured to a stairs. He pointed his wand at her. "Don't try anything."
He lead her up a stairs and into a room. There was nothing in it, except a chair which Malfoy sat himself down in. She stood in front of him awkwardly.
He held his wand out lazily.
"Crucio," he said.
He wasn't ready for what happened next.
Granger didn't just fall down and shake, like he had thought. She let out a terrible scream, then fell and started jerking around horribly. It was obvious she was in terrible anguish.
He stopped it quickly, blinking. That had surprised him. It didn't make him feel very good either.
It's because I know her, he thought.
She slowly got in from the ground. She was frowning and tears were in her eyes.
"So, Granger," he said, but his voice shook slightly, "how did that feel?"
She didn't notice the small tremor in his voice.
"Are you really going to hold this school grudge against me? Can't we just ignore each other and pretend we didn't know each other?"
He smirked, "I don't think so."
"Listen, I'm sorry about all that stuff in Hogwarts!" She didn't sound like she meant it. Her voice was quick and quite breathless.
"Excuse me," he said, mocking her. "Did Hermione Granger just apologise to me? Draco Malfoy? The ferret?" He titled his head and raised one eyebrow.
"How can you hate someone so much just because they're Muggleborn?" She cried.
Malfoy smirked. Granger was getting herself annoyed. He could see the frustration radiating from her. "I don't hate you because you're a mudblood, Granger. I hate you because you're you. Hermione Granger. The Gryffindor prefect. The annoying Smart ass. The only person that could actually get better grades than me. You and Potter and Weasley. The Magnificent Trio. The heroes."
"Well, I'm not like that anymore," she said, her voice wilting. "I don't get good grades anymore. I don't even go to school anymore. I don't hang around with Harry or Ron anymore. I'm not in Gryffindor anymore. So, what can you still hold against me still?"
He smirked, but realised she had a point. Why did he hate her so much?
He suddenly didn't want her there. He wanted to be on his own. "Come on, Granger," he ordered, "You better get back to work."
He led her back to the kitchen in silence. She didn't say anything. When he left her at the kitchen, she stared at him. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a thoughtful calculating expression. Then she shrugged, walked off and began working again.
He looked around briefly at the slaves then left.
He was tired and needed sleep.
*
Hermione Granger was walking in a daze. Would anybody just explain to her what had just happened because she sure as hell didn't have a clue?
Malfoy had just stopped. Hermione guessed it was his first time using that curse, because why else would he just stop?
Hermione was just glad to be alive. The pain that had shook through her had been unbelievable. She now knew what Harry had suffered when he had met with Voldemort.
She sighed and waved back at the excited first years as they waved at her wildly, obviously glad she was alive.
She smiled briefly at Justin. His eyes showed surprise when he returned the smile.
Then she continued to work.
*
Draco sat at the table with the rest of his family. His father was talking about work or Voldemort to his mother in a hushed voice and Draco felt strangely isolated from them.
Mudblood slaves were serving him meals. He had to say, the standard of food was very good. Apparently, mudbloods were quite useful. They did make good slaves.
He glanced at every face of the Mudblood slaves.
Why the hell am I looking for Granger?
Who cares if she's here or not?
He stopped his idiotic search and ate his food in silence.
"Draco," his father's cold voice interrupted his meal.
"Yes, father?"
"Have you been keeping an eye on the slaves?"
"Yes, father."
"Are they working accordingly?"
"Very well, father," he said. "Your idea was just genius."
"I had to dispose of one today," His father said suddenly. "Disrespectful. It's just atrocious when mudbloods think they are purebloods. Purely abominable."
Draco smiled at his father. But it was a forced smile.
Disrespectful?
Granger?