Chapter 1: The Auction
The air was suffocating, thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and desperation. The marketplace buzzed with the cruel laughter of Purebloods, their jeers and whispers mingling as the next lot of "goods" was brought forward. Hermione Granger stood among the condemned, her hands bound with enchanted iron cuffs that burned at the slightest movement. Her chin was raised in defiance, though her heart raced with fear she refused to show.
She scanned the crowd of bidders—aristocrats in their finest robes, wands glinting at their sides. Every one of them had come to flaunt their power, to purchase a life as casually as they might select a new cloak. Hermione's stomach churned, but she forced herself to look each of them in the eye. She would not give them the satisfaction of her submission.
"Next," barked the auctioneer, his wand amplifying his voice as he gestured toward her. "Lot number 112: Hermione Granger, age nineteen. Bright, healthy, and…" He hesitated, a sneer curling his lip. "A Mudblood of exceptional intelligence. Educated at Hogwarts, top of her class in several subjects."
Hermione felt the eyes of the crowd fix on her, appraising, calculating. The humiliation was a bitter pill, but she swallowed it down, refusing to flinch under their scrutiny. Her fingers curled into fists as the bidding began.
"Ten Galleons," a man called out lazily, his tone bored.
"Fifteen," countered a woman in crimson robes, her eyes glinting with malice.
Hermione's heart pounded as the price climbed, each bid a reminder of how these people saw her: not as a person, but as property. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, tasting blood but holding back tears.
"Fifty Galleons," drawled a cold voice from the back of the crowd, silencing the murmurs around them. The hairs on Hermione's neck stood on end as the crowd parted to reveal the Malfoys.
Lucius stood tall and imperious, his silver cane gleaming under the harsh sunlight. At his side, Narcissa radiated icy disdain, her gaze sweeping over Hermione like she was inspecting a particularly dirty house-elf. But it was Draco Malfoy who caught Hermione's attention—and held it.
He was taller than she remembered, his sharp features now fully those of a man. His expression was unreadable, though his gray eyes lingered on her for a moment too long. A muscle in his jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"Sold," the auctioneer announced, smacking his wand against the podium. The sound echoed like a death knell in Hermione's ears. She was handed over to the Malfoys as though she were nothing more than a sack of flour.
Lucius waved dismissively at the auctioneer, clearly disinterested in further dealings. Narcissa, without sparing Hermione a glance, turned on her heel and glided toward the waiting carriage. Draco followed a step behind his parents, but not before casting one last look at Hermione, his expression inscrutable.
"Come along, Mudblood," Lucius sneered, motioning for her to follow.
Hermione hesitated, her feet feeling like lead. The enchanted cuffs burned against her wrists, urging her forward. Reluctantly, she took her first step toward the Malfoy carriage, toward an uncertain fate in the shadow of the family who had once been her sworn enemy.
As she climbed into the dark interior, she vowed to herself: They might own my body, but they will never own my spirit.
And so began her new life at Malfoy Manor, where chains of silver and gold awaited her—and perhaps, somewhere deep beneath the ice, the faintest flicker of hope.