Nobody's Girl

The next day Hermione was back in her lonely cell and feeling much better, physically at least. Emotionally, she was a bit of a mess. She hated Draco, honestly she did, but something fluttered in her stomach every time she thought of him in the candle-lit room. To counter this, she pictured him as he looked every other time she'd seen him. Though not charmless, he was no Romeo.

She heard footsteps coming down the hall and stood up, expecting the servants to appear at the door to take her for her bath. She was more than a little shocked when the door opened and it was Draco. He'd only been to her cell once before, and it was a very brief visit with the purpose of instructing the servants. Why would he come all the way down here when he could simply wait for her in his room?

She noticed, with some worry, that he looked colder than usual. His eyes were more like steel than blue and his hair was hanging in his face, just like last night, except that it was dry. He was only in black robes, no cloak, and it looked as if he'd dressed in a hurry. Hermione had no clock, so she had no idea what time it was.

"What brings you here?" she asked, trying to hide the confusion in her voice.

"We need to have a little talk," he told her, and she sat on the cot. She gestured for him to sit as well, but he ignored her. "The only reason I kept you in my room last night was that I didn't want my father to find out the curse had failed so miserably. I was trying to avoid trouble, but instead found myself in more trouble than I imagined."

Hermione figured that this explained his strange behavior. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Apparently one of the servants told my father that the slave was sleeping in my bed. He decided to check it out, and, obviously, he found out the truth. I've had to endure his lectures all morning. Bloody old fool didn't even give me the chance to dress before he barged into the guest room I was in, cursing and making threats."

"I don't understand. What's the big deal? Didn't your father buy me for you in the first place?"

"Yes, but I wasn't supposed to be nice to you! He doesn't understand that I wasn't being nice. I was trying to save myself from trouble. The more I talked, the angrier he got. Now he thinks I'm a weak little Muggle-lover!"

Hermione frowned. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen, not that it's any of your business."

"Then you're a legal adult. Ignore your father."

Draco looked at her as if she'd just insulted him gravely. "I can't ignore him! I depend on him! As long as he supports me, I owe him my respect and my obedience! His opinion of me affects a lot of things, so I must keep it high. The only way I can repair this mess is to show him that I'm NOT what he thinks I am."

"I don't like your implications," Hermione told him uneasily.

Draco went on as if he didn't hear her. "That's the reason I came down here. To prove to my father that last night meant nothing, I have to do something drastic. The obvious choice is to hex you with something painful, or something that would have lasting effects."

Hermione blanched.

"Or, I could do what I threatened to before, and send you down to the most vile and perverse servants we own. I'll let the choice be yours." Surprisingly, Draco said this without a hint of maliciousness or pleasure, as he had done before. Instead, he looked rather frustrated at the situation.

"This is ridiculous! You shouldn't have to prove anything to your father! Surely you have enough education and finances of your own to make due!"

"Are you suggesting that I leave?! For your sake?!" Draco laughed cruelly, but did not seem to be amused.

"Not for my sake, but for you own! You can't live under his shadow forever you know!"

"I told you! I depend on his support! You're just trying to weasel your way out of this!" he yelled.

"Weasel out of what? My unfair punishment? It's not my fault that you're a spoiled brat who's eighteen years old and still afraid of his daddy!"

Draco smacked her. The sound reverberated around the cell and came back to sting Hermione's ears almost as badly as his leather-gloved hand across her cheek. Her face burned with a numbing sort of pain. Blood ebbed at the corner of her mouth. She wondered how hard he'd actually hit her, for she was in too much shock to figure it out.

Her eyes flashed, and she raised her hand so quickly that he didn't have time to even flinch before she'd smacked him back. He glared at her from beneath the messed white-blonde hair. "You hit me, you bitch!" he growled, holding a hand to his stinging face.

"You hit me first!" she cried. "I thought it was improper for a man to strike a woman! And here I was under the impression that you were raised as high-class!"

"It's not considered improper for a Wizard to strike a Mudblood," he said coldly. For the first time, his eyes seemed frozen, as if what little compassion he had buried within him had shriveled up and died.

"You don't even think of me as a woman, do you? I'm just a lowly creature to you, like an animal!" Hermione screamed at him, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

"Exactly," he said emotionlessly.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a human being too! Just because I was born a certain way doesn't make me less than human, and it doesn't make you more!" She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she couldn't allow herself to cry. Not in front of him. Displaying weakness to the enemy was a huge no-no.

Draco looked at her with an unsettling gaze. It was as if he hadn't even heard her. "Your little fit today will cost you. You no longer get a choice for your punishment. I'll send you down to the servants."

Hermione collapsed back onto the cot. He was so impossible. Nothing she could do or say would affect him at all. And now she was doomed to abuse, humiliation, and who knew what else? She couldn't hold back the tears any longer and they ran down her face in currents. She made no attempt to stop them, or wipe them away. She didn't sob or shake, it was not her nature. She just looked at the wall in front of her, with blurry vision from the tears, and tried to focus on something, anything else.

Draco turned his face away from her and knocked on the door. Two servants came running up. "She's ready to be bathed," he told them, and each of them took one of her arms. They pulled her up and led her out the door. Draco followed.

One of the servants turned to look at him curiously. "Aren't you going back upstairs, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.

He paused, starting at Hermione who had also turned to look at him. Her face was still stained with tears, though they had stopped flowing, and she had a strange look of worry on her face. He could still fill the sting of her dirty Mudblood hand across his face. He could still feel the anger burning inside him. "No, I'll go with you to make sure you clean her well. She's dirtier than usual today."

All the color drained from Hermione's face. "You... you're going to watch?"

He nodded, and Hermione looked to the servants beside her, as if she hoped that they would say "no", that they would tell him he couldn't. The logical part of her mind told her how stupid the idea was. They were his servants, and what he said was their law.

The walk to the bathing room was excruciating this time, as every step took her closer to her impending humiliation. A knot was building up in her stomach and she felt like she would be sick. How could he do something like this? She was sure that he had no physical interest in her. He didn't even think of her as a female, and she was disgusting in his eyes. His only purpose was to cause her shame and fear.

She tried to convince herself that she didn't care. He was a spoiled brat, and that was it. He was a cocky, no-good elitist who didn't deserve her thoughts. But every time she pounded these things into her brain the image of him from the night before thrust itself into her mind's eye.

Finally they arrived in the bathing room and Draco closed the door behind them. He stood leaning against the wall, staring at her with an expressionless face. She thought of struggling, of running for the door or attacking the servants. But she realized that those ideas were useless. Draco would have her down with a curse within seconds and she'd be in worse trouble.

So she allowed the servants to remove her clothes, though she covered herself with her arms as best she could. She felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment, but she wouldn't allow herself to cry or whimper. She was stronger than that. She would show him that she wasn't as weak as he thought she was.

She was pushed onto the platform and scrubbed, Draco's eyes on her the entire time. Though certain that he had seen plenty, she still covered herself when she could. She wasn't going to give him more than was necessary. She wouldn't look him in the eyes, for she knew that if she did she would crumble.

Eventually they turned on the rinsing water through the tube and the force knocked her to the ground. Startled, her eyes darted around and met with his. For an instant, he didn't seem as cold as he had before, but the glimmer of humanity faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. She looked down, suddenly realizing that she wasn't covering herself. She tried to put her arms around herself, but the force kept knocking her down. It felt particularly strong and painful today, and she imagined it was because of the situation. When she could take no more, she began crying again, and when the water shut off she curled up into a ball and sobbed.

The servants ran over and draped heavy towels over her, apparently feeling sympathy for her. When Hermione looked back up, the door was standing open and Draco was gone.