Chapter Twenty-Three

Everything that happens now

"There are times when nobody is punishing you and nobody is messing with you. Sometimes the bad things in our lives are consequences of the choices we made-when we realise that, we can learn to live with them"-Anon

Three weeks...

Eight Months...

One year...

I hadn't a clue how long I had been in Malfoy Manor but all I knew with certainty was that they were keeping Malfoy away from me. However, I was still alive which meant that while they didn't want Malfoy near me; somebody had listened to his bargain that I was now his property.

I'd been branded not long before we'd arrived, the inside of my left wrist now read in a black loopy scrawl:

Property of Draco Malfoy.

Bellatrix had been given the task of writing it; she had enjoyed it immensely but she hadn't enjoyed the fact that I hadn't had it in me to even scream. I had stood, silent and unmoving watching Malfoy's face; his cold, unrelenting stare unflinching and without mercy. I knew he hated himself and I wondered if he hated me more for putting myself in this position.

When Bellatrix had finished, they had taken me to a cold corner of the west wing of the house; thrown me into a small yet ornate room and that's how I'd been left for days.

At least, I think it was days. I really don't know.

They had since put me to good use ; I was treated like a house elf. Narcissa escorted me to the kitchen every morning herself and there I was given some sort of difficult yet menial task.

Scrubbing floors until my hands were rough and raw, dusting, polishing silver and even washing toilets by hand.

I hadn't seen my wand, I'd been given clothes to wear that included old baggy black dresses and not much else. I had no shoes, I was given no toiletries, no clean underwear and I hadn't been given any opportunity to shower.

But I worked and I sweat and I bled. It was my only shot at redemption; the only way that I could atone for what I had done. But most selfishly, it blocked out all other thoughts. My only concern was to polish the floors enough to make sure they gleamed or I would receive a quick cruciatus curse and then my problems would multiply. I wasn't sure how many times they could use that curse on me before it had a lasting effect on my mental wellbeing.

So I worked, harder than I ever had in my life. I thanked whoever was listening that my parents couldn't see me reduced to this; I prayed that Harry was out there somewhere trying to defeat Voldemort one Horcrux at a time.

Most of all, I prayed for death.

I prayed for a quick, painless release. When they cursed me I prayed that they would get tired of that and just kill me; surely it was more work to keep me here.

What I hadn't factored was just how good a job Malfoy had been doing, every day since my arrival in keeping me alive.

While I cleaned until I was raw; Malfoy was defiantly arguing for my life and ensuring they knew that he had completed his mission even when Voldemort had expected him to fail and for that, what was the problem in having one single plaything of his own.

Malfoy kept me alive while I so badly wanted to die but I wouldn't find this out until later.

It all changed one morning; I wasn't sure how long I'd been there at this stage. My hair was extremely long and matted, my hands were rough and calloused and judging by the cold mornings, I guessed we were somewhere between Autumn and Winter.

The room I had been placed in was a typical of Malfoy manor and what I had seen thus far. It was as cold as its owners, there was a hugely ornate fireplace that was never lit for me, the four poster bed contained sheets that hadn't been changed for months and had a certain ripe smell now. The old mahogany furniture consisting of a dresser and a desk was extremely beautiful had it not contained several scratches and dents that I had put there in the beginning of my stay when I still had the spirit to be angry.

Other than that the room was sparsely furnished which was just as well considering how much damage I had managed to do to the furniture that had more than likely been antiques.

I awoke, at what I can only assume was around 6am given how dark it was outside, by rough hands. Knowing it would be Narcissa I was extremely surprised when she pulled me from the bed and stood me upright.

I made to walk towards the door; working in the clothes I slept in was the norm after all when she grabbed my shoulder. I grunted at the contact, nobody had touched me for months.

"You're no longer working for us".

I gazed at her, simultaneously understanding her words and not understanding her at all.

I didn't know how to respond but noticed that she had said nothing since and was continuing to stare at me, scrutinising everything.

"What?" My voice was croaky from disuse and it shocked me to hear myself. No physical contact and no need for speech had left me wondering what purpose I served as a human being.

"You are no longer working for us, you are to be cleaned up and brought to your Master; the Dark Lord's orders. Draco's argument for you has finally won through".

I vaguely understood what she was telling me but it took several minutes for it to sink in...my Master.

I was brought to a large and beautifully decorated bathroom where I was unceremoniously thrown into a bathtub of lukewarm water. Three house elves then washed me, cut my hair, toenails and fingernails and all the while I pondered Narcissa's words.

Did this mean that all the months I had been in captivity; they had been listening to Malfoy's arguments about why they should keep me and had made me work while they figured out what to do with me?

That's what it sounded like.

"Hey", I said to Narcissa who up to this point had been monitoring the work of the elves.

"Do not speak to me thus", she drawled and I knew then where Malfoy got his signature drawl from.

"Well just answer me this and I'll gladly never speak to you again", my voice was becoming less croaky the more I spoke but I knew it would be some time before I could speak without the pain in my throat.

"Yes" she pursed her lips and refused to look at me.

"Am I going to die in this house?"

The question took her by surprise and she finally met my eyes, narrowing them at my question.

"I thought you members of the Order were always optimistic?"

"I don't have time for optimism and you have no regard for my feelings so I'm asking you and expecting a straight answer", I narrowed my eyes back at her and managed a smirk Malfoy would be proud of.

"I underestimated you it seems".

"Don't feel bad, everyone does. Answer the question".

"You have no manners".

"I'm naked, in a bathtub not knowing to what purpose this is being done or what fate awaits me I don't really give a shit about manners right now. Answer my question".

She said and straightened her back, "Draco is doing his damndest to make sure you don't die, for what reason I cannot comprehend but if all his efforts transpire to be in vain I'm certain my son will never speak to me again; as a result and for some twisted reason of my own. I very sincerely hope that you do not in fact die".

Then she added quietly, almost to herself, "He would never forgive me if that happened".

"It would hardly be your fault would it?" I said bitterly, turning my gaze from her and pulling my knees up to wrap my arms around.

"I would have just as much a hand in it as everyone else, if I had only kept him away from the influence of his father more or..." She stopped herself suddenly upon seeing my incredulous gaze; I did not want to hear her sob story.

"Hurry up and then bring her to him", she barked at the elves before leaving the room.

When I was washed, cut, cleaned and shaved (the most embarrassing shaving of my life) I was removed from the tub, quickly dried fully I was given a deep red dress to wear; it was longer than anything I'd ever worn, a smooth silk that came to the floor and scooped at the neckline, lower than I would have liked. The sleeves were full length but lace and therefore see-through.

"This way", squeaked the elves in eerie unison.

I followed them out of the room, noticing that I had still been given no shoes to wear but not exactly caring, I was much too uncomfortable in my new attire.

I turned back as we were leaving and saw two elves had appeared, cleaning the tub I had been in which was now filled with dirty water and throwing away the black dress I had been wearing for the last few months.

The elves brought me downstairs and I noted the lack of...well...anyone. The place was cavernous and magnificent and yet utterly deserted. I kept preparing to be pounced on, waiting for the masked men to come and crucio me like they had done the past few months but nothing happened.

I was brought down the grand staircase and led to a room just to the left of it. The doors were large, mahogany like everything else but these had carvings on them; symbols of magic and carved portraits of the Malfoy family..

"Miss is to enter the Library alone".

I stared at the elf, thinking that this was finally it; I was going to be murdered. The red dress had to be a symbol of some kind; a deathly symbol.

The elves disapparated and I found myself shaking nervously.

I leaned against the door heavily, taking a deep breath as I did so and closing my eyes against the onslaught that was sure to come.

...

...

"Are you going to open your eyes or should I just wait?"

His voice.

Malfoys sardonic, never changing voice nearly made my legs collapse from under me.

I opened my eyes slowly and there he was, his black suit showing off his physique which had filled out since the last time I'd seen him, his blonde hair was immaculate and had been cut back into his usual style falling into his eyes perfectly and his cold, grey eyes watching me coolly. His hands were clenched as if he had been bracing himself for my arrival, the same way I had been bracing myself for an attack.

I didn't speak; I could barely bring myself to look at him. It didn't feel like months since I had last seen him; it felt like an eternity and now we were two completely different people but the roaring in my blood and the stuttering in my heart when I looked at him reminded me that some feelings run to deep for time and circumstance to change.

He took a seat in a leather armchair and motioned that I should come forward.

I didn't move.

His eyes opened a fraction wider and for a split moment I could have sworn he was trying to communicate something to me but then the moment passed as quickly as it had come and he merely motioned once again.

I walked forward a few steps on very shaky legs and watched him confusedly; whatever trust that had existed between us that he would never hurt me was gone. It had been killed with Dumbledore and now a formal tension existed between us that sat like a dagger between my shoulder blades.

"Please sit, it will make this faster", he said. His voice hadn't lost that cool edge and he was speaking to me as if I was beneath him.

I slumped into the chair opposite him and this time did not mistake the slight widening of his eyes because this time, his eyes also flickered to the opposite wall. I looked, there were three large paintings there; portraits of family members I presumed. They moved like any other portraits in the magical world.

One man appeared to be writing a letter, another woman was fixing her hair in a mirror and the last was a child drawing while lying on the floor. The only thing different was that all of their faces were turned towards us and not on the tasks they were currently performing.

I looked back at Malfoy who was smirking at me with his mouth but speaking with his eyes and it all clicked in to place.

We were on show; they were watching us. Malfoy's actions now had a reason.

I furrowed my brow and stared at him, wondering how he could expect me to play along with this charade when I could barely bring myself to meet his eyes.

"Dumbledore said I wouldn't be able to look you in the face", I said suddenly and the anguish in my voice startled me.

Malfoy's face hardened and I knew my words had hurt him.

"We are not here to discuss that. We are here to discuss your complete submission to me and your future in this house".

I blinked up at him, my eyes filling with tears that had refused to fall for months.

"What do you mean?"

"You are my property now", as he spoke my arm burned painfully and the black words etched there glowed dangerously; I gasped in pain.

"That brings certain responsibilities".

He stood and moved to stand over me, "You're going to do exactly as I say from now until the end of your miserable life. I fought hard to keep you and by God you're going to earn your life".

I kept my head bowed low but he hooked a finger under my chin and lifted my face; my tears broke free.

"You are bound to me magically; this is irreversible and you will perform any acts of pain or pleasure that I see fit", his mouth spoke the words but his eyes begged me to understand.

"Now, where to begin", he moved his finger downwards until he was brushing against the exposed parts of my breasts.

I whimpered softly but he didn't hear me, his eyes had moved over to the portraits and I followed his gaze.

The people in the pictures were now looking at the tasks they were performing and not at us. He knelt beside me, dropping his hands as he did so.

"Quickly, while they aren't watching us. Are you hurt?"

"What?"

"Are you hurt?" His voice was urgent and cracked as he spoke and I saw the strain in his face and wondered at the pressure he had endured during the last few months.

I shook my head unable to speak.

"I'm sorry, I'll explain when I get a chance, please don't...I guess there is no point in asking you not to hate me, I can see that a part of you already does. Well believe me, it's no more than how much I hate myself. We all have to live with our actions Granger, even you".

I stared at him and he, being Malfoy, stared right back.

"I've always been consistent with you Granger, that isn't about to change. I don't get a chance, why should you? We're a perfect match".

"I hate you", I whispered, knowing that I meant it.

"I know, you also love me and I know that to".

I sighed angrily knowing he was right as he moved away from me, his gaze flitting to the portraits every so often.

"We're finished", I said, "I can't ever go back to what we were, you've given me the worst reason to live in killing Dumbledore to bargain for my life". The words felt harsh in my mouth but for some unclear reason I needed to say them.

"I didn't expect you to figure it out quickly, Dumbledore was always going to die whether I did it or not, there is so much you don't know and that I don't have time to tell you expect in bits and pieces", he said it resignedly like he had spent months thinking about it.

"But I fought hard for your life, don't you dare throw it away with any sort of ill conceived death wish". He glanced at me sadly but with an unmistakable hint of anger before looking back the portraits which had moved again and his demeanour changed.

"Now, Granger what shall I have you do first?"

I looked at the portraits that were watching us now and swallowed a sob.

What was going to happen to me?