The Worst That Could Happen

The woman who had come to mean so much more to Draco than he would have ever dared imagine stared at him, tears in her eyes, asking him one simple, yet complex, question. Why?

Yet he couldn't answer her.

She stood there, against the wall where he had shoved her, silently pleading with him to reveal the truth he had long known.

A month had passed since he brought her to the manor. A month in which she had stirred feelings in his cold heart.

Unable to say anything, or to be subject to those eyes, Draco left her standing there alone and walked to his room--his other room. This was the one he slept in, the one she didn't know about. The one place he could go to be truly alone.

He lay awake that night, wondering what to do about the child. There could be no child, not unless they married. But to marry a Mudblood.... That would disgrace him and dishonor the Malfoy name. Could he shame the entire line over one woman?

Unless there was a way to do it without shaming them....

If she were a Death Eater--one of the best--he could do it.

He rose suddenly and went to the basement where she sat, chained to the wall, asleep.

He quietly un-cuffed her and woke her up.

She looked at him through unfocused eyes and tried to wake faster.

"We need to talk," Draco said pulling her up. He led the way to the dining room and ordered her to sit down.

"Do you understand why I told you to kill the child?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Why?" she asked.

"No Malfoy has an illegitimate child. Not now, not ever. Also, no Malfoy ever marries someone of your...blood. That is the ultimate sin for a Malfoy, understand?" She nodded. "Good," he continued. "Now, if you won't kill the child, and there's no way I can do it before the thing is born and it's too late, you'll become a Death Eater and we'll marry. It's the only way I can save my arse and keep you alive. Besides, I promised the Dark Lord that I would turn you."

She gaped at him, her mouth hanging slightly open. It took all of Draco's self control to not grab her and kiss her again.

"Well?" he asked.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked. "You seem to have this all planed out, there's not much I can do to stop you anyway."

"I want your consent. I want you to do this willingly. If you agree, I will bring you before the Dark Lord. He will brand you and you will do his bidding. You must do everything with a cold heart and without a word of protest. Let me rephrase that. You will do everything he tells you to do without the slightest hint of protest. Nothing in your body language may suggest that you do not want to be there--nothing in your voice, your words, your eyes. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "I understand."

"Will you do this?"

Hermione closed her eyes and Draco saw a tear fall. "Yes," she whispered.

He knew then that she was broken. The Hermione of a month ago would never agree to such terms. The Hermione he had taken away from the battle field would have never given in. That Hermione would never become a servant of the Dark Lord.

"I'll take you to the Dark Lord tomorrow then. I'm going to leave now, to tell him of your progress. As you are soon to be the Mistress of this manor, you are free to wonder as you please. I'll inform the elves of your change in status and you will be given a new wardrobe and a proper bedroom."

Draco did as he said he would and then left, Apparating to the mansion his Master owned and inhabited.

Draco walked up to the door and spoke the password only the Death Eaters knew: The-Boy-Who-Died, and walked in.

Peter Petigrew--Wormtail as he was now known as--stood in the foyer, waiting for whoever the caller was. He did not look pleased to see Draco and didn't bother to even try to hide it.

"I have a message for the Dark Lord," he said in a crisp tone. "Where is he?"

"The Master is not accepting visitors at this time."

That was when Draco's father walked into the room. "Ah, Draco," he smirked. "What brings you here?"

"I have a message for the Dark Lord," Draco answered, following his father out of the room. "I've broken her, and she's ready to change. She will fight on our side, and she will help us become stronger than we could ever have hoped to be."

"You're sure of all of this?" his father asked. Draco nodded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Someone of this talent and importance should not be let out of our grasp, my son. Is there any way you would consider taking this young fox as your wife?"

Draco nodded. "I have, in fact, found that I have been quite infatuated with this woman, Father. She has a perfect figure and a brilliant mind. The only problem lies in her blood."

"She is Mudblood?" he asked. Again, Draco nodded. "Though I figure if she becomes as ruthless as, say cousin Bellatrix, or rather the Dark Lord himself, I find no problems with her blood."

"Then consider the family consensual. Bring her here tomorrow, have her marked as the killer she will become, then take her home, bed her, and teach her all that we know. If she has a child with you, she is yours."

Draco nodded. "As you wish, Father."

"I will inform the Dark Lord of your progress."

Draco nodded and retraced his steps back to the foyer, recognizing his dismissal.

The next morning he found her sitting at the dining room table. She was dressed in a silk gown that had wide shoulders and a very low neck. The pine green seemed to suit her pale skin and matched amazingly well with her brown eyes. In fact, it matched so well with her that Draco found himself surprised. Who would have thought a Mudblood could look so good?

Draco sat down across from her and glanced at the plate in front of him, noticing he was not hungry.

He looked back up at Hermione and wasn't surprised to see the tears there.

"Today you become cold," he ordered. "You turn off all of your emotions except for anger, content, and love. You feel the utmost hatred for all things Muggle or Muggle related. You are no longer a Muggle born witch, you are pureblood. You may be asked to kill today. In order to cast an effective Killing Curse, you must want the thing you are casting it on to die. You must want this with every fiber of your being. If that means pretending it is someone or something it is not, so be it.

"You are going to be Marked. This is a gift, not a curse, treat it as such. Do not writhe in pain or scream in agony, it shows weakness and you will never get very far in this world if you do. If asked to prove your loyalty, do as is requested of you. Do not, I repeat, do not protest in any way, shape, or form. Do you understand so far?"

Hermione nodded. "I understand."

"You are no longer a slave, you are a Mistress of the Malfoy line. You will answer only to Hermione Malfoy. The name Granger is no longer a part of you as it is related to something Muggle

"You will laugh at the name Harry Potter and any other name that is closely associated with the rebellion. Weasleys are a joke and you hate them--all of them. Except Percy, he turned out right in the end. Too bad he died...."

"Percy?" the brunette asked, sounding as though she didn't really care. Draco knew better, however. He knew that he'd peaked her curiosity. He just wanted to see if she was taking his advice.

"Yes. He came to us after the Ministry revealed the truth. He said he wouldn't work for Muggle-loving fools who couldn't even be bothered with the truth. After the Triwizard Tournament, I guess he felt that one more lie would be the last straw.

"Such a piety. He was well on his way to being the next Minister. Just think, with a Death Eater as Minister...we would be truly unstoppable. Then again, now that Potter's dead we're unstoppable."

"Harry Potter was a fool," she said, surprising Draco further. "He didn't know what was best for him so he put his friends in danger and it eventually killed him. I didn't see that until last night, I thank you, Draco."

She sounded so cold, so bitter...he almost didn't dare believe.

"Then why are you crying?" he asked her.

She sighed and hung her head. "I'm not sure I can actually pull this off," she confessed.

"You had me fooled," Draco confessed. "And as of yet, I'm the closest person to you. Follow in my mother's footsteps if you wish," he suggested. "Be faithful to the Dark Lord, help him when it is requested of you, but do nothing more. Be the wife of the Death Eater husband.

"Of course, the conditions surrounding your coming here included your assistance in creating new and improved curses used for both torture and locating Muggles and traitors.

"You will also be asked to assist in potions, with Severus. He is to create so much more for us now that he is no longer a double agent or a stupid potions professor.

"This is all I ask of you, Hermione Malfoy. Do you accept, or shall I kill you on the spot?"

"I accept," came the whispered response.