Nobody's Girl

Draco sat at the end of the huge dining room table. His mother and father were at the other end, eating their meals with the utmost care to manners and formalities. They took their position as high-class very seriously, and would have Draco do the same.

His father looked up from his plate. "How are you fairing with your slave?"

"With Hermione? Oh, it's been quite interesting. I invented a new curse today. It had amazing results!" Draco answered excitedly.

His mother dabbed at her lips with the tip of her napkin. "So the little girl has a name, then?"

"Yes, Hermione Granger."

His mother laughed, a strange, fake-sounding giggle. "I didn't even think Muggle-borns had names. I suppose it's cute though."

His father didn't seem to find it amusing. "And you call her by this name?"

"Not usually." Draco said, suddenly more interested in his food.

"Be careful, Draco. You don't want the little Mudblood forgetting her place, now do you?"

Draco nodded and continued with his supper. Who did they think he was? Did they expect him to sympathize with her and set her free? He was not so weak, and he would prove it to them.

After dinner was over and the family was sitting around the fireplace in the extravagant living room, Draco stood. "Father, mother, would you like to see the curse I made?"

They looked at him curiously, then his father smiled. "Yes, that would be a delight."

Draco called for the servants to bring Hermione up. They rushed downstairs to fetch her, and returned shortly. She looked tired, as if they had woken her up from a nap, and the bright glow from the fireplace hurt her eyes. She looked at Lucius. She remembered him from the street. She had never seen Draco's mother before, but she immediately disliked her, for she sat there in her jade robes, looking at Hermione with disgust.

Draco smiled at her. "We're going to demonstrate today's curse for my parents. They're anxious to see how it works."

The color drained from Hermione's face. "We're doing it again?! In front of them?!" she cried, remembering the earlier scene where she had been forced to strip off her robe.

Draco's parents looked at him sharply, as if to ask "Why are you allowing her to take that tone with you?" Draco reddened very slightly. "Yes, we're doing it again, unless you'd rather be sent to the male servant's quarters without the clothes I personally bought for you!"

Hermione looked horrified and Draco's parents looked pleased. "All right. Whatever you say," she said, feeling a sickening dread building in her stomach.

Draco looked satisfied. He pulled his wand from his robes and, without even pulling out the parchment, muttered the curse he had used that morning.

Again, Hermione felt normal for a couple of seconds before the nausea and heat struck her down. I will keep my robe on, she thought to herself, but it was already beginning to choke her. She held true to her vow, for though she suffered for it, she kept the robe firmly in place. She would not allow him to humiliate her again, not like this, not in front of his parents who already looked at her as if she were something they had scraped from the bottom of their boots.

After a few moments of agony, Draco cast the counter-curse and freed her once again. She pulled herself to a sitting position on the floor. She didn't feel well enough to stand. Though she felt immense relief, something still felt odd. She still felt a bit feverish, but it was more annoying than painful now.

"You may go back to your cell now," he told her, signaling the servants.

Hermione attempted to stand up, but fell back down again. Something was definitely wrong here. She was getting more and more dizzy, almost reaching the level she had experienced while being cursed. He had given her the counter-curse, but its effects had been temporary. She looked around the room, and everything had become blurry. Draco and his parents were smeared white clouds surrounded by black sky. She was sure she would faint.

Draco was more surprised than her, for he was certain he had done the counter-curse correctly. He wanted to pull out the parchment and re-check is work, but was ashamed to in front of his parents, who were already looking at him questioningly.

"It's just a side-effect," he told them, "it'll wear off in about an hour."

They looked at each other and then back at him. "Not a very reliable counter-curse you have there, son," his father told him.

Draco nodded. "I'm working on it. I'll take care of the mess here. The two of you can retire if you wish."

They smiled at him and stood up, as if they knew he needed time alone to fix his problem. "We'll be upstairs. If you need anything-"

"I can handle it, Mother," Draco said quickly, trying to hurry them off without being so obvious.

They nodded and left the room, closing the doors behind them. Draco and Hermione were the only ones left in the room. Servants were waiting outside the door, but would not dare enter unless called. Draco squatted down beside her and put a hand against her forehead. He drew it back as if he had touched a snake. "My God, you're on fire!" he exclaimed, examining his hand, which was already beginning to blister. Her skin had felt like boiling water.

Hermione didn't know if it was because she was so hot, but his hand had been ice-cold against her face. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered how a human being could have hands so cold without being a corpse, but the thought was quickly forgotten. She felt much sicker than she had when under the spell, and she was scared to death.

Draco pulled out the parchment and re-read the counter-curse over and again. As he thought, he had done it perfectly. So what went wrong? He pulled out his wand and did the counter-curse again. Hermione cried out and tore at the buttons of her robe. Somehow the counter-curse was making her worse!

Draco paced back and forth, stretching his mind in an attempt to figure out what had happened, and how to fix Hermione. This was a disaster. His father would be furious if all that money had been wasted. Not only that, but Draco would be humiliated. His first major curse would be a huge failure, and everyone would whisper and laugh about how he killed his own slave with it.

In desperation he called for the servants. "Get me the house doctor!" he yelled, and they dashed out the door.

It was a good ten minutes later that they returned with a frail-looking lady who wore white robes that matched her white hair. She knelt down beside Hermione and began to examine her. "What happened here?" she asked.

Draco explained the curse and the counter-curse, and the effects of each. The doctor listened carefully, then began to unfasten Hermione's robe. "She has a very severe fever, probably just an after-effect of the curse. Casting it twice in one day is what caused it, I'd say."

"Will she live?" Draco asked, careful not to sound too worried. She was a Mudblood, after all.

"Yes, but only if we get the fever down. We'll need a tub full of ice water immediately." At this Draco informed the servants and the scurried to the nearest bathroom. The doctor had already removed Hermione's robe, and began on the bra before she stopped and stood up. "Carry her to the bathroom," she commanded.

Draco wasn't used to taking orders from anyone but his father, but he trusted the doctor's wisdom. He picked up Hermione and flinched from the heat of her skin. He kept a layer of his cloak between his skin and hers the entire time, but the heat was seeping through quite easily. He was surprised at how light she was, how small she seemed when curled up in his arms. It wasn't a feeling he was comfortable with, so he headed for the bathroom in a run.

Once there he sat her down on the edge of the tub and the doctor appeared moments later, unable to keep up with his speed. "You can step out now, Mr. Malfoy," she said, preparing to remove the rest of Hermione's clothing.

Draco paused at the door. "You cannot command me," he said bluntly.

"You're not needed until she's ready to come out. If you want to see her body, then do so on your own terms. She is your slave, after all, but have the decency to wait until she's conscious!"

Draco flushed red, from embarrassment or anger, even he did not know. He started to protest, but stopped himself. The doctor knew what she was doing. He nodded sullenly and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

How differently the day had turned out than what he had planned. His curse had failed and it would possibly cost him his slave. He stared at the bathroom door with narrowed eyes. "You'd better live, Mudblood," he muttered almost inaudibly, "because I'll be the one to suffer if you don't!"