Lucius Malfoy sat impatiently at the small, round table in the breakfast room, waiting for the lady of the house to make an appearance. It was a miracle that he had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, but now he was awake and eager to return to his house. Only the worry that Bellatrix might accuse him of some abstruse thing if he didn't have breakfast with her as arranged kept him in place.

He wondered to himself about his restlessness. Why was the welfare of his slave so close to his heart? Ever since he had met twelve-year-old Hermione Granger at the bookstore in Diagon Alley, they had crossed paths again and again - and always as enemies. He had always known that she was unusually clever, after all, she had always delivered better grades in all subjects than his son - and this very fact had only strengthened his dislike. Why did nature waste so much talent on a mudblood was a question he had always asked himself. What about her had changed that he suddenly could no longer despise her?

Or had he changed? After the victory of the Dark Lord, something like everyday life had returned to the wizarding world, but he himself felt a lasting tension. Although the fronts had been cleared, he could not shake the feeling that everyone was still spying on everyone else, and everyone around him was trying to find flaws in the behaviour of others in order to report them to the Dark Lord and thus put themselves in a better position. The atmosphere of distrust gnawed at him. Once again, he wished the incident in the Department of Mysteries had never happened, so that he would never have fallen from grace. His once secure footing had been extremely shaky for long months, and even today he felt how thin the ice was on which he walked.

"Good morning, Lucius," his sister-in-law's childlike voice rang out, snapping him out of his spiralling thoughts. Almost relieved, he looked up and watched as Bellatrix elegantly lowered herself into one of the medieval armchairs in front of the little table.

"Thank you so much for waiting for me, dearest! It's really very kind of you to take the meal with me when you're so eager to go home!" she purred.

A snort was the only response she received. Lucius knew that she knew that he couldn't very well leave. She had made her point more than clear the previous night.

"Tell me, how is my little sister?"

Sighing, Lucius surrendered to his fate - he wasn't going to get out of here anytime soon. "Narcissa is doing splendidly."

"Oh, really? I was under the impression you two had a fight...?"

It was obvious that she wanted to goad him into disclosing anything incriminating, but he didn't fall for it. "Just because she's fighting with me doesn't mean she's miserable."

"You were always sooo in love with each other - what could two lovebirds like you possibly argue about?"

His sister-in-law's playfully childish voice was already starting to get on his nerves again. He was becoming more and more aware that Bellatrix knew exactly what was going on in his house - accordingly, her feigned ignorance was dangerous.

"Don't you ever argue with Rodolphus?" he tried to dodge the question.

"My husband is an imbecile; you know that as well as I do." She laughed as she said that. "We have never been united by so intimate a bond as you. Don't be so coy, Lucius, what's the matter with you? You can tell me, we are family."

Sweat appeared on the forehead of the usually cool man. With an icy expression, he looked into the face of Bellatrix, who in turn looked back with half-closed eyelids, tea cup in hand, and an innocent smile on her lips. A smile that did not reach her eyes. He suddenly realized that his wife was not a silly blonde, but a dangerous player whom he had better not have made an enemy.

Lucius took a deep breath, then replied, "Narcissa does not like our slave. I fear she is jealous that a young woman now lives with us in our house."

There was a brief flash in his counterpart's eyes - obviously he hit the mark and said exactly what his wife had told her sister.

"But why is she jealous?" Bellatrix inquired curiously. "Look, this one" - she pointed to the young man who came crawling into the room on all fours - "this is my slave. A young lad in his prime, full of manhood. But my husband would never get jealous of him. I use the boy for my personal pleasure, let him experience how close pleasure and pain are. This is something I would never do with Rodolphus. He lets me live out my fantasies on the slave without finding that bad in the least. If you do the same with your slave, why is Narcissa so angry?"

Disgusted, Lucius stared at the man before him. As the day before, a heavy iron chain with a studded collar held him in check, but today the penis ring was missing. The eyes that had just stared into space the day before were a little more alive today - obviously he was not under the influence of drugs and was aware of his surroundings.

"Could it be," Bellatrix continued, "that you are being too gentle with your slave?"

Lucius' mouth was suddenly dry and he had to swallow hard a few times before he could come up with an answer. "Gentle ... probably isn't the right word, Bella, I ..."

With a fluid motion, Bellatrix stood up and, before he could respond, lowered herself onto Lucius Malfoy's lap. She brought her face very close to his ear, placed one hand against his chest, the other in his hair, and whispered dangerously softly, "Don't lie to me, Lucius. I don't give a damn if Narcissa is jealous or dancing around your bedroom dressed only in a towel. But if it comes to my attention again that you treat a mudblood better than your pureblood wife, I can't help but send an owl to our Lord."

With these words she rose again to take her seat on the back of her slave. Lucius, for his part, rose, bowed slightly, and then left the breakfast room. A final glance around the room showed him his sister-in-law devotedly scratching her slave's back with her long fingernails and actually eliciting muffled cries of pain from him.

As he apparated home, Lucius Malfoy realised who this slave was: Ronald Weasley, the lover of his own slave.

oOoOoOo

Concern rose in him. Shortly after arriving in his study, Lucius Malfoy had set out to look for his slave, but she was nowhere to be found, neither in the kitchen, the library, nor any other room in the house. His wife and son had also disappeared without a trace. He could feel the onset of a headache. Perplexed, the blond man sank down on a bench in the kitchen and watched the house elves prepare lunch.

"Sir," a female house-elf abruptly addressed him from the side. With widened eyes, he stared at the small creature who dared to address him without prompt. She shrank noticeably and a tremor in her body indicated that it took all her strength not to punish herself immediately.

"Master, your human slave is outside under the wash bucket. We need that now though ... may we fetch it?"

Horrified, he started up - the idea that Granger might be outside the house had not occurred to him at all. Without paying attention to the elf, he stormed through the kitchen and wrenched open the wooden gate. To his right, he spotted the overturned wash bucket. With a quick flick of his wand, he levitated the wooden vessel up and deposited it against the wall. What he found underneath sent a shiver of panic down his spine.

Hermione Granger lay curled up on the floor, eyes closed, completely motionless. Her hands and feet had turned an unhealthy colour. Quickly he bent down and brushed the hair from her face, but still, he got no reaction. Her body felt terribly cold, no heaving of the chest indicated breathing. Helplessly, he pulled the lifeless body into his arms. If I hear again that you treat a mudblood better than your pureblood wife, I can't help but send an owl to our Lord. Bellatrix's words echoed in his mind.

"I'm only trying to save my property!" Lucius muttered to himself, "Surely no one can deny me that!" He knew that was not the full truth, but he was not ready to admit that to himself just yet.

"Mr. Malfoy–"

The words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them. He quickly spun Hermione around so he could look into her face. Her eyelids fluttered, then she opened them with the greatest effort.

"You are warm ... so warm ..."

And again, Hermione fell back into unconsciousness. He took no time to think his decision through. Lucius lifted her up and carried her through the kitchen, up the stairs to his bathroom. Determined, he pushed open the door next to the shower and entered the tiled room that contained the large family bathroom. A practiced wave of his wand opened the faucets and let lukewarm water run into the tub. Carefully, he placed the still motionless body in the tub, then turned the faucet to a slightly higher temperature.

As he watched colour very slowly creep back into his slave's feet and hands, Lucius Malfoy ran through his options in his head. He could not afford to nurse Hermione back to health here, he had already made himself too suspicious. But where was he going to take her? Who could he trust enough to properly care for a mudblood slave?

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Perhaps there was one wizard after all who could help in this particular case. Despite everything, he was trustworthy, and he hated Bellatrix at least as much as Lucius himself. Without thinking about the consequences or the reactions Hermione might have, he took his wand.

oOoOoOo

"My master is not here at the moment, Mr. Malfoy, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Grimly, Lucius looked at the young woman before him. So much for his plan. It would have been too easy. Nothing ever was this easy.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Thoughtfully, he looked at her. Could he risk leaving his slave here unasked? Did he even have a choice? He had gone soft. The realisation hit Lucius with full force. He brought this whole thing on himself. In the past, this wouldn't have happened. He used to be the one who always had the upper hand. Who threatened others.

He struggled with himself, but finally he gave in. Hermione needed care, and as much as he would prefer to see to it himself, he knew he had to rely on others just this once.

"Yes, you can. I'm about to drop off a sick young woman here who needs care. I am unable to do it myself. It should be enough if she stays here for three days. I'm sure your master won't mind, and if he does, just send him straight to me."

"A young woman ... YOUR slave?" He could hear the horrified tone in the young woman's voice. He just nodded wordlessly and then disapparated. Minutes later he reappeared with his slave in his arms and laid her gently on the sofa in the living room. With another nod, he said his final goodbyes and fled back to his study.

"Hermione!" Ginny Weasley whispered in despair, "What have those bastards done to you?"