Malfoy, clad in his Death Eater robes, apparated right in front the gates of the Malfoy Manor, opening them with a single swish of his wand. His strides through the road toward the house were confident and severe, like he was going there with a goal in mind. That was true – something good was waiting for him there. Or rather, someone good.

Today was rough for him. He had killed, yes, that wasn't new, but today specifically he killed a lot of people and, whether he wanted that or not, it still left some heaviness inside him that he needed to release as soon as possible.

He came inside the Manor, the house creaked and howled from the wind outside, but it was warm inside, and it smelled like what he remembered from his childhood. Three years ago, before her, the Manor smelt like rot and blood, with pain and suffering soaking through its walls and ceilings. He used to hate coming back to an empty house, preferring his nights spent at the brothel then. Now, it was different. Now, he was no longer alone. Exhausted, ruthless, but not alone.

He took off his Death Eater mask while ascending the stairs, aware how much she hated seeing it. Upon entering his chambers, he realized she was there waiting for him, just like he told her to be. She was sitting comfortable on the sofa in front of the fireplace, wearing nothing but a lavender silk nightdress and a black nightgown on top of it, and none of it was enough to hide her from his gaze. He went straight for the glasses and the decanter of whiskey on the small table on the side, pouring himself a drink and downing it all in one gulp. She was reading and hadn't registered his presence yet – her mind was working slowly on the potion – so he took the time he had to check what book she was reading. It was nothing suspicious nor dangerous, simply a beautiful collection of Agatha Christie's mysteries she had found in the library of the Manor and brought here to pass the time.

"Mudblood," he called out, finally catching her attention.

She looked up at him from her book, her eyes glassed, but he could tell the effect of the potion was wearing down. Every time he forced her to take it which was every time he got a suspicion she was about to regain her wits, the potion got less and less effective. That's why today, before anything else, he would force her to drink it.

She put the book down without looking away from him as if she simply couldn't focus on anything else that wasn't him. She scrambled up from the sofa and started walking toward him.

"Master," she spoke softly. "You're back. I was waiting for you."

"Good," he said, beckoning her closer, the bottle of the potion ready in his hand. "Come here and drink this."

She took the final two steps that separated them while Malfoy unscrewed the bottle. She stopped right in front of him, looking up at him like a puppy, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out obediently. There, he didn't even have to force her.

He grabbed her chin with his free hand, gloved in leather, and positioned it to add a few droplets of the golden potion right on her tongue. She closed her eyes at the taste, which couldn't have been bad, and swallowed it without even being told to.

Putting the bottle of the potion back in its place, Malfoy commanded her, "On your knees."

And while she dropped to her knees before him, looking up expectantly, he took of his leather gloves and shrugged off his cloak, watching the way the potion gradually took effect on her. Her eyes glossed over even more; it looked like a white film was drawn over her eyes. Her whole body relaxed and there were no thoughts left in her mind except those concerning him. He loved seeing her like this. She was the only one on his mind just then too.

He started working on the buckle of his belt while watching her intently, his passion growing with every second, his dick already half-hard in his slacks. He leaned in to slide the nightgown off her shoulders and the rest she shrugged off herself.

"Open your mouth," he told her, and she complied, albeit it took a few seconds for her to understand him.

He dropped his slacks to his knees and didn't bother to do any more of the work he had already done. "Your turn," he said. "Take me out. Do what you do best."

His Mudblood shimmied closer on her knees, putting her palm on his cock through his underwear, seeing how much he liked it, and he liked it a lot. She rolled her palm a few times, making his whole lower abdomen melt, and the slowly took off his underwear, revealing his already more-than-hard cock, its head bobbing free straight into her face, turning her attention from his face to the head of his cock and making her gasp softly, that sweet sound reverberating in his ears.

She took his cock in her beautiful soft hands and kissed the tip of it with her plump lips tenderly, then licked the precum at the crown.

He hissed in pleasure. "Look at me."

She did, all the while taking his cock into her mouth and humming in pleasure, her eyes never leaving his. His Mudblood started moving her head rhythmically, her lips wrapping around his cock halfway through and her hands stimulating the remaining part at the root that she couldn't reach with her mouth yet, all the while making sweet little sounds of pleasure for him. He moaned in pleasure, wishing nothing more but to take control, however allowing her to blow him off on her own for a few minutes. Malfoy enjoyed the sight of her sucking him off so enthusiastically herself.

"Show me those tits," he directed, having half a mind to rip the nightdress off her himself, but she quickly lowered the strips of it to her forearms and exposed her magnificent tits to him. He squeezed one of them, then the other, not forgetting to pinch the nipples the way she liked. The sensations he brought upon her made her suck his cock with even more enthusiasm.

At last, Malfoy lost his composure and grabbed a chunk of her wild curls, entwining them in his fist and forcing her on his cock until it reached the back of her throat, making her gag. Her eyes fluttered shut and she moan-gasped at his roughness, but the sounds were muffled by his cock in her throat. She grabbed the top of his thighs with her hands instinctively and although she was so weak it didn't make him feel a thing, he still said, "Hands behind your back."

She listened, of course, bringing her hands behind her back, the fingers of her right hand around her left hand's wrist. Malfoy took over the control, bobbing her head up and down in vicious rhythm, not giving her the chance to take a breath, not allowing her to get away from him, holding her in place as if she was sewn to his body and breaking them apart would cause a catastrophe. She gagged and choked on his cock, her teeth grazing the skin of his cock slightly, but he didn't mind that, in fact, it even added to the experience.

When it all felt like it was going to be too much but not enough at the same time, he thrust her head on his cock all the way down until her nose touched the flesh of his sternum and her whole face was pushed into him. He held her there for a few blessed moments, groaning in bliss at the sounds of her gaging and moaning, begging him for release. He let go of her hair and she her head pulled away from his cock in a violent start while the rest of her body remained it place where it belonged. She coughed and gasped, trying desperately to catch her breath. His cock was wet with her saliva and as hard as ever.

"Open your mouth," she ordered her. "And stick out your tongue."

His Mudblood did as she was told, and Malfoy grabbed her jaw in his hand, leaning closer and spitting into her waiting mouth. She didn't close it immediately, only after he said, "Swallow it," to which she happily obliged.

"Such a good girl," he praised, his tight grip still on her jaw, her mouth still open for him to do whatever he wanted. "You like throating my cock, don't you?"

She nodded eagerly, her eyes glassy and half-closed.

He slapped her cheek very lightly. "That's my Mudblood." And thrust his cock back into her throat, resuming the vicious rhythm he had set up before.

She gurgled and spat the saliva on his cock while he didn't let go of her head, using it as his own personal fleshlight. His groans and moans of pleasure mingled with her the sounds of her gagging. There were tears in her eyes and the hands behind her back were shaking, her attention no longer on him but on the lack of oxygen. He took his cock out and slapped her hard a few times, so hard that her cheeks blushed beautifully, and the mark of his fingers remained for a few lingering seconds.

"I told you to look up at me," he told her. "You're forgetting to listen."

"I'm sorry, Master," she whispered, her voice shaking as if she was close to tears. "I'm sorry."

He slapped her once, twice, just because he could. He loved the way her face turned redder.

"You're my Mudblood, and you will listen to me. Is that clear?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Master. I'm yours, Master."

He thrust his cock back home, and this time she was listening, looking up at him no matter how distracted, hypnotizing him with his eyes, making him come almost immediately. He took himself out, fisting his cock with one hand and using the other to keep her face close. She kept her mouth open with her tongue out without being ordered to, and his sperm soon coated her tongue which she swallowed, humming in pleasure.

His Mudblood was going to continue deepthroating him, but he had other plans.

He fisted her hair, keeping her away from him. A confused look passed her beautiful features.

"Not so fast," he said, going to his canopy bed and pulling her with him by her hair. She crawled after him obediently, mewling from the pain but no complaining. "Get on the bed, ass in the air."

She did so.

He lifted his silk nightdress which was already so short that her ass and pussy were practically already all for him. He moved the string of her thong out of the way and sheathed his cock deep inside her pussy, making her moan loudly. He pushed her head into the mattress, his rings digging into her skull. His thrusts were deep and merciless, brutal and wild – he was losing all the control he still possessed of himself. She was so warm and griped him so tight he was about to come a second time milliseconds after the first release, but somehow managed to keep himself at bay. His Mudblood moaned and mewled in tandem with his thrusts while he fisted her hair, lifting her upper body slightly and continuing his attack on her.

Malfoy watched entranced the way his cock went in and out of her wet warmth, all and every thought fleeing his mind, only her soft sounds in his ears. He grabbed her by the throat, bringing her body flush close to him, his thrusts losing the rhythm, his hips shaking violently with every heave. His breathing became uneven, and when her moans reached crescendo, when he felt her tight pussy grip his cock like a vice, he lost it all and emptied himself inside of her, still holding her close even after his orgasm, kissing the hollow of her throat.

They were both catching their breaths when he released her and she sank on his bedding with no will to do anything as if he was the only thing that kept her up and gave her direction. Malfoy disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a washcloth, cleaning her and himself up before tucking her up in his bed and lying right next to her.

He kissed her forehead tenderly, that glassy look still on her face.

"You did very well," he praised her. "You're a very good Mudblood, did you know that?"

She nodded, smiling softly. "Thank you, Master," she whispered. Then fell asleep.

The next day was no better than the others, but Malfoy had his Mudblood waiting for him at home and that thought alone comforted enough to get through it. He killed and tortured and mauled, the sounds of screaming and screeching still echoing through his ears. But he had her. So it was all worth it.

Malfoy entered the Manor and immediately realized something wasn't right. He sniffed the air the smell here, in his home, wasn't much different than there where he had just come back from. It was sour and rusty.

Blood.

"Mudblood!" he called out.

No answer.

He bolted to his bedroom, calling her out, his shouts echoing through the Manor. She wasn't where he was used to always finding her. He followed the scent of the blood in panicked frenzy until he reached its source. She was in a dark room, so dark that he couldn't even see her first, but he could smell the rust and the suffering. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw his Mudblood with her back turned to him, her shoulders slouched and shaking violently from sobbing. She had a blade in her hand, one of his cherished silver blades he had always carried on his belt, that's the one he found missing today, believing he had lost it.

She was cutting the smooth perfect skin of her wrists, slicing into her tender soft flesh, the one that warmed him up and pleasured him every night. Blood was pouring from the wounds she had inflicted upon herself, blood, crimson red, blood, no different than that of his other victims, not muddy or dirty or different at all.

No different than his own blood.

They both bled the same.

"Stop it!" Malfoy shouted, throwing herself and him.

She turned, seeing him in his mask, her eyes no longer glazed. She was as sober as he had seen her in the past year. She was not all there, she probably would never be all there again, but she was thinking clearly enough to scream hysterically in terror upon seeing him and destroy herself the first chance he got because she knew that was her only way out.

She screeched when he got near and he realized he had forgotten to take off his Death Eater mask, amplifying her fright. He quickly took it off and tossed it aside, wasting no time to grab her and take the blade out of her hands.

"What are you doing!" he yelled at his Mudblood while she screamed in utter agony.

She writhed in his arms, trying to get away, trying to run as far away as possible from him, but he held her tightly. Her blood poured all around them, soaking into his clothes, but they were black, so her blood seemed invisible.

She wasn't going to let him help her so easily, and he couldn't give her the golden potion while she was bleeding profusely, so he had to Imperio her to take care of her wounds. Malfoy brought her back to his bedroom, hoping that a familiar space would help her feel better. He cleaned and bandaged up her wounds, then softly put her to his bed. This time, coming back home was worse than doing his job.

He lifted the Imperio curse to see if she would still fight him; fortunately, she didn't. Her gaze was empty, but not empty in a way that she wasn't herself. It seemed deflated of any hope. Malfoy would even have felt sorry for her if only he still had feelings to spare. He caressed her head softly, making sure that the bandages didn't bleed through. She looked at him. Her eyes were quite clear. He wanted to give her a potion, but he would have to wait until she was better. He didn't want to mess his Mudblood up, he wanted to keep her for as long as he could.

It was weird the way she was watching him. Observing. Scrutinizing. Inspecting. Understanding?

He decided to lie next to her, her back to him, because he couldn't handle that gaze. She turned to him, that same strange look on her face.

"Do you hate me?" she asked quietly. Her voice was so clear it took him off guard.

"No," he answered almost immediately.

There was a pause.

"Do you love me?"

He met her eyes, daring himself not to look away. He was thinking. About her. But there was nothing to think about.

"Yes."

She watched him for a long time, trying to see if he was telling the truth. Of course, he was.

"Then why are you doing this to me? Why can't you let me go?"

"Where would you go?" he asked her gently. "All your friends are dead. Everybody from the Order is dead. The only reason you're alive is because I took you. If I let you go, someone will still catch you. And they wouldn't be as nice to you as I am. They wouldn't give you potions to make you not think, forget."

There again, that understanding in her eyes.

"I don't want that potion anymore," she said.

Malfoy shook his head. "There is no other way."

"There is," she rushed to assure him. "There is, Master. I'm yours. All yours."

He gazed at her. These were the words he always commanded her to say, and she said them only under the influence of the potion. He liked, no, he loved the way they sounded coming from her mouth while she was seeing him clearly, understanding the implications of them fully.

She lifted her bandaged arm and took his hand in hers, entwining their fingers.

"I'm all yours," she repeated.

Their faces were inches apart now.

"Okay," he whispered, afraid that his voice might disturb the moment.

She leaned in and kissed him on her own accord for the first time, ever. She gave herself to him completely.

She was all his. Malfoy's Mudblood.