Hermione stood in the corner of the small salon and tried to not let her anxiety and nervousness show. In front of her sat Severus Snape, Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback, Walden Macnair and of course the host Lucius Malfoy. The five Death Eaters seemed to be engrossed in conversation, but Hermione did not miss how especially the eyes of Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf, kept wandering over to her. She hoped that Malfoy's order that she should not engage in any sexual interactions meant that he would hold back his colleagues.

Sighing, the young witch looked down on herself. The black, figure-hugging and extremely tight dress did not fit as well as a week ago. Within this short time, she had already lost so much weight that she no longer wanted to see her own reflection. She didn't lack food too often, but fear had become her constant companion - and obviously her body couldn't cope with it.

On the other hand, she thought, this had the advantage that she no longer seemed so attractive to the male sex. Inwardly she almost laughed. She remembered her school days, her love for Ron - and how she had suffered since fourth year from not being perceived as a woman. At that time, she would never have dreamed that there would be moments when she wished she wasn't a woman - and especially not an even mildly attractive one.

"Mudblood," the voice of her Master tore her from her thoughts, "the wine is all gone. Go and get some more!"

With a small nod of her head she turned around, only too happy to get a chance to escape the sinister group. The way to the kitchen and back would take about five minutes altogether and she planned to use each one of them to calm herself down and to focus her mind on the current dangers.

She had not taken six steps before a heavy hand grabbed her shoulder. Startled, she spun around and looked into the expressionless face of Severus Snape.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" Hermione asked, trying not to make her voice sound aggressive or ironic.

She apparently did not succeed, because the answer of her former teacher did not sound pleased. "Obviously you have not yet learned the proper manners here, Miss Granger."

A shiver ran down her spine, but she pulled herself together. She would show Snape no fear, she would not crawl to the ground in front of this traitor.

"I am to fetch wine, so if you have no wish ...," she stated, again trying to be polite.

But again, she did not seem to have found the right tone. The black-haired wizard grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her violently against the hard wall of the corridor.

Hermione swallowed. As she looked up carefully, she encountered the dark eyes of her former Potions professor, but she could not interpret his gaze. For seconds, they stared at each other, his hands resting firmly on her shoulders, and she felt the strength in his arms. Memories of the morning's events popped into Hermione's mind. How Lucius Malfoy finally forced her into submission with pure strength. Ashamed and frightened, she lowered her eyes as if she could prevent Snape from reading her thoughts.

"Are they treating you well here, Miss Granger?" Snape suddenly asked.

She flinched. What was the point of that question? Was Severus Snape trying to find out if Lucius Malfoy was treating his slave girl well, and passing this on to Lord Voldemort? He would certainly not be pleased and would punish Malfoy - who in turn would take his anger out on her. And why should she lie, as she was not treated well here.

On the other hand, she could imagine that other slaves were even worse off. After all, she was still alive, hadn't suffered any serious sexual assaults, and was rarely beaten.

All of a sudden, she felt cool fingers grabbing her chin. Severus Snape let go of her one shoulder and now raised her head with gentle force so that he could look into her eyes.

"Is the question so difficult, Miss Granger? Are you being treated well here, yes or no?" he repeated his question.

He still seemed unfazed and expressionless, but something did not fit the image of the evil Death Eater. Hermione thought hard about what was wrong - and then it finally clicked.

"Why do you call me Miss Granger?" she wondered aloud before she could stop herself.

Surprised at her own courage, Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth, but Snape didn't seem upset. His tone of voice sounded calm when he answered, "It's impolite to answer a question with a counter-question. But I gather from your reaction and appearance that you are at least physically healthy."

Hermione was speechless. Was it possible that this wizard of all people inquired about her state simply out of concern? But that didn't fit either - if he had been interested in her physical well-being, she probably wouldn't have been here in the first place. Something else had to be behind it and she swore not to be taken in by his suddenly so friendly manner. Determined, she pressed her lips together and looked up to him silently.

The hand that had held her chin a moment ago was now pressed against the wall, and the other hand also let go of her. For a brief moment Severus Snape looked down at his former student, then shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk.

Hermione remembered her mission - she had been sent to fetch wine and surely Malfoy was waiting for her impatiently. Just as she was about to set off as well, her eyes fell on the end of the corridor. There Draco Malfoy leaned calmly. Hermione cursed inside - her encounters alone with the younger Malfoy never ended well.

"Well, well. Just as I thought, the mudblood bitch is making a pass at everyone!"

Hermione shook her head. She couldn't afford to take any longer, but the way to the kitchen led past the man who had just given her extremely threatening looks.

"You know, mudblood," Draco started as he pushed himself off the wall and came towards her, "my father made it very clear to me that I wasn't allowed to touch you. That's too bad..."

His gaze grew even colder and Hermione's heart contracted. This Malfoy apparently had a tremendous hatred for her and wanted to express it at every available opportunity. Would the father's words be enough to protect her from him?

"But, you know, come to think of it, he only forbade me to fuck you. And to hit you too obviously. I don't know about you, but despite these limits, I can think of a hundred things I could do to you."

The words of Lucius Malfoy would not suffice. If her situation hadn't been so serious, Hermione would have loved to laugh - how did she get the idea of hoping for protection from him? She was alone here, the only young woman among men, the only mudblood among Death Eaters, the only one without a wand against powerful wizards practicing the Dark Arts.

"I can see the fear in your eyes, Granger. I like that," whispered Draco Malfoy into her ear.

Frozen, Hermione stood there. Neither the older Malfoy nor Severus Snape could frighten her as much as her former classmate - and yet he had done nothing but mumble soft, nasty words. But that was exactly the problem: He played with her fear, he knew her better than the other two men. He played a mind game with her.

"Leave me alone! Your father wants me to fetch some wine, and if he finds out that you've stopped me...," Hermione hissed, but she herself noticed that she sounded more like a frightened cat than the brave lioness she had been when she was at school.

"How dare you address me like that?" Draco hissed, "I may not be my father, but you owe me as much respect as you do him! Don't think you can talk to him about me, you worthless little mudblood!"

With these words, he slapped Hermione, causing her to stagger back against the wall. For the second time within minutes she found herself pressed against the hard stone, but this time her situation seemed much more threatening.

"You're brave to threaten me. But perhaps you are just stupid. If I were you, I wouldn't just close my eyes at night and wander off into dreamland." Draco Malfoy breathed into her ear. His voice was barely audible, but his words did not miss their effect. Hermione's knees wobbled and she felt an icy cold knot forming in her stomach.

"And while we're on the subject... there is one thing that interests me," Malfoy added, seemingly lost in thought.

Roughly, he pushed Hermione's arms above her head and grabbed both wrists with his left hand. Before she could grasp what he was about to do, his right hand already disappeared between her thighs. Two fingers penetrated her violently and recklessly. A tortured gasping escaped Hermione, while she helplessly had to allow violence to be done to her again in this terrible way.

"Who would have thought," Draco finally said, "You seem to not be used to the touch of a man. Amazing. The Weasel and Blessed Potter are bigger wimps than I imagined! Or perhaps they didn't want to touch an ugly shrew like you."

A third finger joined the other two and drove tears into Hermione's eyes. He didn't push too deep, but she still felt a burning sensation between her legs and the shame of being touched down there against her will.

"Please," she sobbed, but the pain clouded her thoughts and she could not finish her sentence.

"What, mudblood - do you like it? Do you want more?" Draco mocked her. Slowly, he circled his fingers in the entrance area, pulling them back a little bit at a time, only to push hard again. He laughed. "You can't imagine how much fun this is for me. But I want to be a good son and listen to my father."

With these words he pulled his hand back between her thighs, looked at her briefly and then let go of Hermione's wrists.

Sobbing, she fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to show any weakness. She didn't want to look helpless in front of this guy, she didn't want to give him any point of attack. And yet he could so easily scare her, so easily do violence to her.

For a moment, Hermione didn't know who she hated more - Draco Malfoy or herself. But his voice took away her decision. "Remember to bring the wine to my father, mudblood. Move your lazy arse!"

She hated him. She clearly hated this blond pretty boy who played on her self-esteem.