A/N: Trigger Warnings at end!

Chapter 4: Come Thou Precious Ransom

3 June 2005

"Was there something you actually needed, Nott? Or are you only here to tower over me and grind my nerves as I nurse this hangover?" Draco questioned, rubbing his fingers over his temples as Theo stood in his doorway.

Crossing his arms, Nott lifted his chin and looked down his nose at his friend. "What the fuck is wrong with you lately? Astoria dies and suddenly you cared about her? Enough to mope around here and hex anyone that gets within three metres of you?"

"Ah, so Pansy told you that I hit her with a Stinging Jinx where it would hurt her most. She had it coming—Astoria was nothing like the rest of us. She was pure and gentle and she doesn't deserve to have Parkinson sullying her name in an attempt to be facetious."

"You realize I am the Dark Lord's top Healer?" Theo mentioned, letting himself into Draco's office and sitting on the couch across from him. He spread his arms across the back of it and settled himself in. This only served to raise Draco's ire.

"How could I forget the Dark Lord's brilliant little pet?"

Theo ignored his jab. "Do you also realize that as the healer to the Death Eaters, I had to be the one to fix Parkinson's unfortunate situation? For that alone, I deserve accolades." He stood to make himself a drink at Draco's wet bar.

"I'm sorry to have put you out. Anything else?" Draco was growing tired of the interaction and peeved that Theo was pouring the rest of his beloved American-made magnolia gin into a tumbler.

Theo turned, narrowing his eyes at Draco as he lifted the glass to his lips. "Look, mate. Whatever you had with Astoria—that's your business." Draco dropped his eyes from his friend's, looking instead at a wrinkle in Theo's otherwise pristine white robes. "But if the Dark Lord catches any sign of weakness, we both know it won't turn out well for you. He's already extending you a courtesy by allowing Scorpius to live another day."

At the casual mentioning of his son's fate, Draco rose from his seat, an inkwell fisted in his hand. With a sharp snap of his arm, the inkwell hit the wall directly next to Theo's shoulder, raining obsidian ink over his snowy robes. Pausing to remove his handkerchief from his breast pocket, Theo also pulled out something that looked like a small Muggle business card. He swiped his kerchief over where the stain was spreading through the fabric of his robes, shooting Draco a scathing look. The splotch disappeared with two passes over it, a nifty piece of magic Theo developed early on. Stowing away his kerchief, he set the silver trimmed card on the table and lifted his tumbler once more, stepping out of Draco's office and leaving his set of crystal drinking glasses one shy. "You remember Blaise Zabini?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, breathing like a bull about to charge a matador. "What?"

"Blaise. Zabini. Our year at Hogwarts—"

"I haven't fucking forgotten who Blaise is, you imbecile. I see him around the Pen often enough. Why are you asking?"

Looking over his shoulder as he resumed walking, Theo cleared his throat and calmly replied, "The rusalka just under the bridge—did you know she enjoys compliments and gifts?"

With that, Theo walked away and despite Draco's attempts to call him back, he was gone. Leave it to Nott to spin a fucking riddle he was too exhausted and hungover to solve. He dropped his forehead into his hands once more, staring through his lashes toward the spreading blot of ink and glass shards protruding from his rug.

He wandlessly and wordlessly lifted the crystal decanter and uncorked it, pouring himself a healthy serving of the hair of the dog. The glass settled neatly in front of him and he breathed in deeply before lifting it to his lips and tipping it back in one fell swoop.

The Pureblood Curse had taken Astoria from him nearly six weeks prior. From generations of breeding within the same gene pool, her magical core was weakened. With each passing day of her life, she grew a little more feeble. Being pregnant with Scorpius nearly killed her, his tiny body draining her of all magic with each passing day of her pregnancy. Somehow, she was able to persevere and live another five years. Draco supposed he couldn't rightfully call what she had done living. She was relegated to a bed for more than half of that time, too fragile to leave the Estate most days.

Still, her death had wreaked pure havoc on his life. She'd left him with their child, a boy of five who had no emotional connection with Draco. A boy whose magic had suffered at the ineptitude of his mother's bloodline. A boy who didn't meet the Dark Lord's high standards of expectation. A boy Draco would kill for, even if it meant assassinating every other officer in the Dark Lord's Army and being executed for his efforts.

Draco tipped not one, but two Pepper-Up potions back. A glint from the card on the table nearest the door caught his eye and Theo's riddle swarmed in his head. What Blaise Zabini had to do with the rusalka that lurked under the bridge leading to and from the Penitentiary was beyond comprehension. He rose and went to retrieve the card.

It was nondescript. Made of thick ivory parchment, it had two words printed in a tasteful font: The Trove. They shimmered in the light of his office. Of course. Zabini's little whorehouse—how had Draco forgotten? The back of the card was notably blank until he ran a finger over it absently. 'Ruby' appeared in shiny red lettering, looped as though handwritten. Rubies weren't the first choice of jewels owned by either the Black or Malfoy bloodline, but he knew they were near top tier gemstones.

"The rusalka just under the bridge—did you know she enjoys compliments and gifts?" Were rare rubies the gifts the hellish Siren would expect from him? Draco could think of exactly one ruby the Black family owned, and it was centered in the hilt of Bellatrix Lestrange's dagger. Perhaps she'd accept something else.

How low he'd fallen, to even contemplate fucking a Mudblood. He knew he wasn't contemplating visiting just any Mudblood. No. There was only one who could get under his skin the way she had.

He still hadn't repaid her for spitting in his face.

After Apparating home, Draco strode quickly down the path that led up to the Estate. Tapping a pattern of the constellation Draco into the ancient wood of the Estate's entry door, Draco watched as each tap glowed a faint purple against the wood. The door swung open, and he entered, unclasping the button at the chin of his cloak. His mother appeared from the door of her room, her hair cascading softly over her dressing gown.

She had a tin candle holder in one hand, the single flame flickering at her side. In her other hand was a length of rope, hewn of braided Abraxan leather and damp with last night's blood. Despite her attempts to hide it in the folds of her gown, Draco's heart sank at the sight. "Mother," he began, swallowing thickly. "What is it this time?"

Her eyes, which once held a cunning glint, were dulled as she looked up at him. "Not to worry, son. I can handle him." She gave him a humourless wink and a wry smile.

His teeth clicked as he worked his jaw. His mother had once been the most beautiful witch in Britain. Of this, he was absolutely certain. She had elegant and dainty features, clear cobalt eyes, and hair the colour of autumn grain. Petite as she was, she carried herself in a manner that commanded respect from those around her, particularly the men in her life. Or, at least, she did. Before all of this. Before the War. Before the Dark Lord's rising.

Before.

To anyone from the outside, she appeared normal, if not a little war worn. As they all were. But to those who knew her best and loved her unconditionally, Narcissa Malfoy was a mere shell of the mighty witch she once was. Her features had dulled, the soft glimmering of her magic all but gone.

"Why don't you come with me? We can put Scorpius to bed—I'm sure he'd love to hear a story."

Narcissa reached up and patted her son's cheek with the chilly tips of her fingers. "We both know what will happen if I don't heed his call. It'll only be worse later."

Draco snapped his jaw shut, fire blazing in every inch of him at the mere idea of allowing his mother to endure another lashing at Lucius' hand. You must always show your witch who is in charge, Draco. Never let her gain an ounce of control, for once she has an ounce, she'll soon fill a fountain with her impudence. His father's parting gift on the night Draco wed Astoria was an excuse to continue beating his wife within an inch of her life.

Narcissa gave him a melancholic upturn of her lips and turned to walk down the corridor leading to Lucius' private quarters. Draco turned in the opposite direction, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the landing where Scorpius would be patiently awaiting his grandmother's return.

"Out, Glinna," he ordered upon entering his son's room. The House elf—his son's favourite—scampered away, bowing repeatedly until Draco shoved her with the toe of his boot forcefully enough to knock her through the doorway.

"No!" Scorpius squealed from behind him, tossing his covers off.

He quieted at the glowering look Draco sent his way. "It won't do to make friends with creatures that are beneath us, Scorpius. We've discussed this a number of times, and yet, you continue to defy me."

His son lowered his face, a frown puckering his bottom lip. "I'm sorry."

Raising his chin and staring down the length of his nose at the boy, Draco sighed. "Scorpius, if any of the others were to see you making friends with the servants, it—it wouldn't bode well for you. Your grandfather whipped me until I learned this lesson. Shall I do the same for you?"

Scorpius' eyes widened and he vigorously shook his head. "No, dada. Where's grammere?"

"Grand-mère wasn't feeling well but you'll see her in the morning."

Raising his stuffed dragon, Scorpius globbed his lips onto its head in a child's kiss. The act was filled with such innocence that Draco ran a hand through his son's hair, ashamed to steal a little of that purity from him each day.

With every time Draco tucked his son in he was reminded only that the child lived on borrowed time. When Astoria died of the Pureblood Curse, Voldemort had ordered countless magical scans and tests to be done to determine whether the Curse would affect Scorpius as well. What Theo had found during this time was far worse than dying as a young adult. Astoria's tainted bloodline suppressed his son's magic, effectively rendering him a Squib. It had taken countless reassurances on Draco's part that he could find a way to restore his child's magical capabilities by the time he turned eleven for Voldemort to spare the child's life.

Scorpius settled into his bed, his arm tucked around the plushie as he closed his eyes. When he bent to kiss his son's head, Draco heard a thunderous cracking sound, followed by a screech of anguish. He whispered a silencing spell around Scorpius and sprinted from the room.

"Lucius, NO!"

Draco's blood ran cold at the sound of his mother's pleas and he whipped his wand from the holster at his hip, brandishing it a moment too late. His father anticipated his arrival and had shot a crude semblance of an Obscuro Charm in his direction, attempting to blind him fully. Draco dodged it just in time, the scene all too familiar as he recalled the intensity of the spell that stripped his left eye of its sight. His father sneered, and Draco knew he remembered casting that very spell.

Staring him straight in the eye, his father raised a whip of leathered dragonhide and struck his mother across the face. Every ounce of hatred Draco held exploded within the synapses of his entire body. He was blinded, this time by sheer fury as he retrieved his wand. It cracked and splintered at the force of the magic coursing from Draco. He tossed it aside and instead dropped to his mother's side. Focusing the rage, he bellowed, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

There was a sickening thump and then his mother's measured cries rang through the corridor. "Scor—Scorpius!"

Draco crawled closer to her, running his hands above where the lashings had created deep grooves along her back and neck. "He's asleep, Mother. He's safe. Hush now." Her back was streaked with long scars of white and red, evidence of the years of torture she'd endured here. The new gashes had long spidery veins of blackened blood that spread out from it like roots from a tree. When he ran his fingertips over it, attempting to harness any bit of magic he could muster in an attempt to heal her, the figuration burned hot as a flame.

His body vibrated in the aftermath of his magical outburst. His father's corpse lay in a rumpled mess at Narcissa's feet and she tried feebly to pull her legs from under his weight. "What have we done?" she questioned, tears flowing freely from her eyes for the first time in Draco's recollection. "The Dark Lord will kill us all now."

Pulling her to his chest, he smoothed a hand over her hair and stared into Lucius' cold, dead gaze. "I'll handle this, Mother." His eyes flickered toward the door to his father's chamber, where he knew the Dark Lord's portrait hung. He prayed to any gods that would foster his preposterous pleas that he hadn't been listening in to hear his father's murder.

xXx

Draco approached the bridge leading to the Penitentiary, he saw the silhouette of a naked woman lying along the banks of the river. The edge of a gemstone dug into the flesh of his hand as he approached. He'd only been to the Pen through the main gates, when delivering a prisoner. A bribe wasn't necessary to cross into the compound from the outside, as was customary now.

A stone lighthouse loomed just behind the fortress, its lantern a mocking beacon of desperation. "Rusalka!" His voice reverberated from the stone walls of the fortress. The creature's head snapped in his direction and she rose from the ground in an unnaturally swift motion. Her footsteps were jarring in comparison, the ragged gait of an undead demon. Her fingers and head twitched periodically as she approached. The spectral being stopped a metre from him. Though the gaping sockets in her face held no eyes, he felt as though she were staring into the very depths of his soul.

"You know my friend, Theo. He's given you gifts to obtain entrance here," Draco tried, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

The being tilted her head to one side, bringing her fingers up to toy with a pendant around her neck. It glinted in the moonlight and Draco realized it was a curved serpent charm that had once belonged to Nott's deceased mother. On three of her fingers, rings of equally ostentatious materials shimmered as she ran the pendant back and forth on its chain. How many times had Nott been to visit Zabini's Mudbloods? Recalling that the rusalka enjoyed both gifts and compliments, Draco cleared his throat. "You're beautiful. Do you know what would be perfect with the trinkets Theo has already given? The bracelet my father gifted my mother on their fifth wedding anniversary."

He held a cuff of silver in front of him so she could inspect it. Her sightless face turned down as though she could envision his offering. She held a hand up, fingering along the jagged emerald in the center. "It's not a ruby, but it's worth far more."

She lifted her arm and waited for Draco to slide the bracelet over her ghastly flesh. Her lips pulled back over pointed teeth and the laugh that sounded from her chest was the single most terrifying sound he'd ever heard. It rose from the very depths of her body with every cackle and rang through the air, causing the hairs along the nape of his neck to stand on end. He wasn't daft—the legends all said that this being could drag him into a watery grave before he even knew she'd gotten close enough.

Taking a step back from him, she lifted her hand and crooked a single finger, beckoning him forth. He looked around, hoping someone was standing around to bear witness to him following the creature. He wondered if his body would be recoverable if she decided to drown him.

She led him to the banks of the canal and Draco watched as she dipped her toe in and the water rippled away from her in a crescent shape. He stared for a moment too long and had to trudge through shallow water to get within the dry space to follow her. When they got far enough from the shore that the dim light from the lamps provided no light and everything was swathed in darkness, the rusalka lifted a finger and pointed at a narrow passageway.

Carved into the riverstones, a stairwell led down into a cavern below the water. A faded blue light was emitted from within and he could hear hushed whispering fill his ears the closer he got. Draco put his boot on the first step and the water, carefully held at bay by the creature's magical force, came rushing from all angles. Certain that he would in fact drown, he skittered down a few more steps, breathing heavily as he looked up to find the water closing the gap to the outside.

He followed the sound of voices and the light grew brighter as he descended the stairs. When he reached the landing, he turned the corner to find Blaise Zabini leaning against the wall, a foot propped behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. A toothpick hung loosely from his lips, which were curled into a lascivious smirk. "Lieutenant Authoritarian Malfoy, I wondered when I might see you here."

Draco found his cavalier way of speaking to a senior officer in the Dark Lord's army to be aggravating. Blaise seemed to pick up on this and his smile grew wider as he stared him down. "I'm sorry, did you want me to kiss your ring, sire?"

"You might have a little respect for those who outrank you."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Theo told me you'd come sniffing around."

Grinding his teeth, Draco pulled the card that Theo had given him from his pocket and attempted to hand it over to him. Blaise only looked at it briefly then back up at his friend. "I'm only here to see what all of the hype is about. To see why my officers spend their days murdering some Mudbloods, only to come here and bury their cocks in others."

Blaise studied him for a moment, his eyes tracing over Draco's face, looking for any sign of deception. Then, unexpectedly, he burst into a raucous laughter. "Who did you get paired with then?"

Draco raised a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"On your card. Whose name appeared?"

Draco lifted the card and scoured both sides, seeing no hint of a name. "On the back," Blaise informed him, taking the card and turning it over so he could read. "Ah, Ruby. Of course you'd be paired with her."

"Her?"

Blaise slapped the card into Draco's gloved hand. "Welcome to The Trove, my friend. Allow me to introduce you to my treasured little Jewels."

They rounded the corner into a lounge setting, with tables and raised platforms where women danced, devoid of clothing. Long, glistening ropes of magical currents tethered each woman to the floor, preventing them from running. Other women, wearing collars made of the same magically hewn cords, carried trays of drinks and plates of h'orderves. "Fuck, I didn't know you'd collected so many. I imagine the Dark Lord is not aware of your nest of debauchery, otherwise he'd hang you by your own entrails."

Blaise winked from beside him, snagging a tumbler of firewhisky for Draco. "They were rotting upstairs in the Penitentiary. I offered them a chance at servitude in exchange for protection from the Death Eaters. No one would be stupid enough to tell Voldemort."

"They're willing whores?"

"The way I see it," Blaise began, running his fingers over a girl closest to him before gripping her arse firmly in his hand, "a perfectly wet cunt is a terrible thing to waste. Even if it is attached to a filthy Mudblood. Their blood is dirty, but their bodies? Divine."

Draco eyed a table close to where he stood. Two wizards gambled away stacks of gold while a woman perched on the floor before the furthest one, her mouth wrapped firmly around his cock. "And if he were to use Legilimency?"

"A modified memory charm is placed over the entire place. The men can remember being here, but anyone prying from the outside would only see what appears to be very vivid dreams. He's yet to pay me a visit, so I must be doing something right. And the profit is well worth the risk."

"And Nott sent me here to what? Fuck one of these cretins?"

Blaise shrugged. "You knew what kind of business I run here. Sent someone my way, just a couple months back, if I'm not mistaken. So don't blame Theo—you came of your own accord. Astoria's dead—sorry to hear that, by the way—and this is a place where you can give into your most basic instincts. You can do anything to my girls and they'll do just as you say. They know their only other option is to waste away in the Pen, raped and beaten by the lower level morons within Voldemort's ranks. Here, I strictly regulate the clientele in an effort to protect my most prized assets."

Draco glanced around the room, staring for a moment at an exotic looking woman with striking blue eyes who turned her full attention to him. She swayed her hips and ran her hands over her pert tits in an attempt to entice him. He ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. It had been so long since he'd buried his cock in anything other than his own fist. "The list of my highest paying visitors includes many of your closest peers," Blaise said, low enough to keep others from eavesdropping. "It's hypocrisy of the sweetest kind. My girls are scanned regularly for contagions, kept to the highest standards of health and beauty in an effort to appease the Dark Lord's closest ranks."

Mulling over Blaise's words, Draco watched as the woman skimmed over the slippery folds between her legs before bringing her fingers to her lips and sucking each one in turn. All the while, she gave him the utmost sinful stare. "Say I wanted to humour you. How much for an evening with her?"

Blaise put his hands on either of Draco's shoulders. "Atta boy! Come right this way. Garnet," he barked, grabbing the arm of a passing waitress, "go let Ruby know she has a very special visitor."

The girl's eyes never raised to meet Blaise's but she squeaked an okay before scurrying off toward the furthest side of the parlour. The dancing woman's face fell and she turned away from Draco, turning her attention instead to the wizard sitting closest to her. "We'll save Sapphire for your next visit, shall we? The card deemed Ruby the perfect match for your first visit. And we shall trust in the nifty piece of magic I used to create a coupling system."

He led Draco toward a long winding corridor off the main floor. On either side of the stairwell were doors, each closed. As they passed, he heard the unmistakable sounds of fucking from some, sobbing from others, and an ear piercing scream from the second to last. Blaise lifted his fist and banged on the door from where the scream had come. "This is your last warning, Yaxley. I need these girls alive and capable when you leave here, so keep the corporal punishments to a dull roar."

Draco raised his lip into a disgusted sneer, every inch of his skin crawling with the idea that he was a slave to his sexual desires, just the same as the beast behind that door. Blaise stopped him at the last door, leaning back against it. "Promise me you won't kill my Ruby. No matter how much of a fight she might put up. She's my Golden goose."

"She can't be that difficult, Zabini. She has no magic."

"Aye," his friend sighed, "but that doesn't mean she won't try."

Draco felt his cock twitch at the thought of a chase. It had been a long time since he'd had a witch who burned with a fiery intensity, one who made him earn his place between her legs. Astoria was a fine match, chosen by the Dark Lord himself. But she had lacked the passion he sought so often.

"I think I can handle her."

His friend's grin widened into something absolutely crude and he gestured toward the door. "Have fun. Live your wildest sixteen year old fantasies, my friend."

He nodded toward someone behind Draco and he looked over his shoulder to see a slight woman standing there, ripping her arm from the grasp of a haggard looking guard. His eyes met Blaise's and he felt his own lips fall apart in a gasp. Of course he'd be paired with Granger. It was he who'd led her here, after all.

It was her he'd hoped to find.

"Give her one good fuck. This one's on the house, as a condolence offering," Blaise told him, clapping a hand to his shoulder.

The warden stood behind Granger and had wrangled her into a stronghold, standing with his forearm pressed over her windpipe to contain her. Her eyes met Draco's with a flash of recognition before she hissed a strained, "No!"

"No?" Blaise asked, stepping down to her and lowering his face to speak into her ear. "Did you want to go up to a cell and be used by the likes of Fenrir Greyback?"

The look of sheer loathing she shot in Blaise's direction was enough to make Draco smirk at her audacity. Still, she snapped her mouth shut and her struggle against the warden ceased. Her gaze fell once more to Draco and she gave him the same look of disdain. "On with it," her guard said, passing Draco to toss her into the room behind him.

He waited until the guard emerged from the room and lifted a wand to his face. "You'll tell no one that you've seen me here, or I'll personally feed you to the rusalka outside."

The man used one finger to push Draco's wand away from his face. "You think you're the first officer to threaten me? I'm not an imbecile. I know to keep my mouth shut."

"Good man," Blaise complimented, handing him a handful of galleons for his troubles. He clapped Draco on the back and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Good luck mate. She's a firecracker, that one."

With that, Blaise walked away, whistling merrily. Draco turned his attention to the room where he could see Granger coughing as she massaged her throat. He closed the door behind him, a keen eye sweeping his surroundings as he advanced on Granger. The door clicked closed behind him and he felt the brush of magic sealing them in, ensuring there would be no escapees.

xXx

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Violence, Murder, degrading talk/thoughts about sex work(ers).