Nobody's Girl

Hermione Granger sat in a very small room in the bottom layer of the Malfoy mansion. The collar had been removed, but she was now bound with metal shackles. Her wrists were red and swollen. She kept wondering if they'd forgotten about her. It felt like days since her owner, Draco, had led her down there and left her.

Finally the doors creaked open and she looked up. Draco walked in followed by two female servants. Probably half-bloods, since they were apparently not slaves. He motioned for them to go to her, and each one took an arm. "Make sure you get her good and clean," he told them, "scrub her till her skin starts to peel off, and then scrub her a little bit more. I don't want any Mudblood germs around me."

As the two women pulled her up and led her down the hall, Draco headed upstairs. They took her to another small room, where there was a tile platform that took up nearly half the room. She had to take one step down to get onto it.

The two women pulled off her brown rags and began cleaning her with large, rough sponges on the ends of sticks. They also had on thick gloves and robes. They had probably been instructed not to make physical contact with her until she was completely clean.

They worked in silence, their faces showing little or no emotion. It was just another job to them. When the borderline painful scrubbing was finished, they pulled out strange looking tubes and pulled a lever on the wall. Water began to gush out and its force stung her skin. Reflexively, she backed away and ended up in the corner with nowhere else to go. She squatted down in an attempt to shield herself, but it was only seconds after that the water shut off.

She was handed two large towels and some folded articles of clothing before the two servants walked out and slammed the door behind them. She knew they were waiting for her just outside. She dried herself slowly, as she was in no hurry to return to that tiny, dirty little room down the hall, or to the shackles.

She unfolded the clothes. There was a pair of plain white panties, a very old-fashioned strapless bra, and a brown cotton robe. She slipped into them, surprised that they were new and in excellent condition. In all her years, she had never worn new clothes before. All she had was what rags and hole-filled robes the merchants would give her.

Her hair was tangled and already beginning to get fuzzy, but there was no comb, and she had seen plenty of days without one. Still yet, it would've been nice to have combed hair to go along the new clothes. She shrugged her shoulders and pecked on the door, the signal that she was dressed.

The two women put the shackles back on her arms and led her back down the hall. She breathed a slight sigh of relief when they passed up the room she had previously been in. Instead, they took her into a room two doors down. There, they sat her in a wooden chair and began working the tangles out of her hair with a wooden object that she'd never seen before. It was round, with tiny wooden knobs sticking out all over. Whatever it was, it worked like magic, for her hair was now tangle-free, though still frizzy.

The two women stared at her hair for a moment, as if they were trying to devise a way to make it lay flat. Soon they apparently gave up and pulled it back into a low-laying ponytail and tied it with a black string. Not a professional job, but they seemed satisfied.

Finally one of them spoke. "You're ready now," said the shorter of the two, "let's get you to Mr. Malfoy."

She followed them without protest up the stairs and down a more elaborate hall. They passed many doors and Hermione began to wonder why a family of three would need all these rooms. She envisioned Draco as a child, with each room filled to the brim with toys and gifts. He had to have been a spoiled brat.

Eventually they stopped before a slightly more ornate door and rapped lightly on it. The door opened and Draco ushered them in. He was without his cloak, though still in heavy robes. He closed the door behind them and went over to sit in a very elegant looking armchair. He gave them a nod to signal that they could speak.

"We prepared her, Mr. Malfoy," said the one that had spoken earlier.

"Are you sure you used a disinfectant scrub?" he asked.

They both nodded. Hermione frowned. She hadn't even been that dirty to begin with. They gave her a nudge and she stepped forward. Draco waved them out and stood up. He circled her as he had done in the street. "You look almost human now," he said with mock surprise.

She had a very strong urge to say something back, but refrained. She knew what he was doing. He wanted to provoke her. She looked at the floor, forcing a look of indifference onto her face.

He leaned close and sniffed loudly. "Even the stench is gone. Remind me to give those servants a raise, for they have truly worked a miracle."

Hermione's heart began to pound. She wanted to grab him by his little rich-boy neck and choke the arrogance out of him. Still yet, she remained silent. She just kept reminding herself that it would only take a few days to learn how the place was laid out, and to formulate a plan to freedom.

"I suppose you're curious as to what I'll expect of you," he began, going back to his chair, "It's really quite simple. You are my guinea pig. Every time I learn a new spell, or create a new curse, I will test it out on you. You will not refuse. You will not try to avoid them. It's your purpose here."

Hermione was now looking at him. "And I will be given the counter-curses afterwards?" she asked, speaking for the first time to him.

He ignored his own surprise. "Yes, eventually. After all, I can't put more curses on you if you've already been cursed. It would affect the final result, which is what I'll be interested in. But there's nothing to stop you from remaining cursed until I think up a new curse." He said the last sentence with a very wide grin.

"And that's all that's expected of me?" she asked.

Draco blinked. Wasn't that bad enough? Then he looked her up and down with a smirk on his face. "Well, I'm sure the male servants would find you very amusing."

Hermione tried to conceal her disgust, but it was written all over her face.

Draco burst out laughing. "We can try to avoid that, however, as long as you behave. But the first time you make any sort of protest, I'm sending you down to the servants' chambers and I'll let them decide on your punishment." Draco smiled inwardly, proud of his own ability to make her look as if she wanted to hurl. This was going to be quite fun after all.

He got up from the chair again and walked over to the door. "I'll send you back now. I'll call you when you're needed," he said, living a hand to peck on the door and call the servants. He stopped himself. "Wait, what was your name?"

"Why does that matter?" she asked, standing close to the door, eager to get away from him, "Why call me by my name when 'Mudblood' will do just as well?" There was bitterness in her voice.

"Point taken," he said, "but I'd still like to know."

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh, what a quaint Muggle name!"

She frowned and stepped closer to the door. "If you're finished with me, I'll gladly return to my cell."

Draco smiled. "Don't care for my company, Mudblood?"

"Honestly, no." she replied.

"An honest Mudblood! Very impressive! Just make sure you keep your manners," he told her, knocking on the door.

The two servant girls from before appeared and led her back toward the stairs. Draco called down the hall, "Make sure you're prepared for tomorrow! Perhaps I'll hex that horrid hair off your head!"

Hermione began to fill the anger building in her chest again, but she kept walking. All she would allow herself to do is turn and glare at him over her shoulder until he returned to his room. She gave a small smile when she heard the lock on his door click.

So she returned to the tiny room in the basement that had only a cot and a toilet. There was a small wooden tray with dinner on it sitting on the cot, and she was surprised that it was generously served. It was delicious, probably the best food she had eaten in her life. After she was finished, she sat the tray by the door and sat down on the cot.

She looked down at her new brown robe, so warm and clean. Perhaps slave life wouldn't be as horrible as she had thought. She could stand a few curses, as long as she was eventually given the counter-curses. She knew none of the damages done would be permanent, and there was always the escape plan in the back of her mind.

She still wanted freedom more than anything else. She would rather have old, ragged, dirty robes and be able to learn actual magic for herself than to have new clothes and be treated as a living experiment. What hurt her the most was that she could feel the potential for magic coursing through her body, and she had picked up quite a bit of magical knowledge simply from watching and listening to people on the streets, but she didn't have a wand or a formal education. How she would love to learn it properly, and be able to use her magic to liberate the rest of the Muggle-borns from slavery.

She shook her head. Who did she think she was? She was just another Mudblood. Just another slave. She'd be lucky if she could make it to a safe house without losing life or limb. But that would be a very happy day, and she would never have to look at Draco Malfoy ever again. With those thoughts in mind, she fell asleep easily on the hard wooden cot.