Nobody's Girl

Days had passed and Hermione had heard nothing from Draco. She was thankful for small favors, as he was the last thing she wanted to see. She was also thankful, for once, for the thorough bathing. But she could still feel his ice-cold skin on her, could still feel the tips of his soft hair grazing over her body as he used her.

Shamefully, she'd been amazed yet again by his beauty, but could take no pleasure from it. He had no concern whatsoever for her feelings, and had robbed from her all she had left: her dignity. For that, she hated him far worse than ever before.

She had been doing some heavy pondering, on exactly how she would get herself out of this situation. Her most obvious choice was to kill herself and be done with it. She wouldn't allow Draco to use her again in such a way. It was the most horrible violation she could think of. No matter what action was necessary, she would take it.

She felt her stomach lurch when the servants came that day to take her to Draco's room. He'd said it was a one-time affair, but could he be trusted? Surely not. She geared herself up for anything. If she had to attack him until he killed her himself, she would. She prayed that he would just curse her, or scold her. Anything else, as long as he didn't touch her. And in the back of her mind, she prayed that he would have his hair shoved back today, that his eyes would be dull instead of bright, and that he would be in full robes and cloak.

That prayer, at least, wasn't answered. He looked more beautiful today than he had before. He was sitting in his chair, wearing black pants and a white sleeveless undershirt. His hair was hanging in his glistening yet narrowed eyes. He looked angry, and she felt worry and fear creeping up her spine.

The servants walked out, and Draco stood up. He walked over to her, looked her in the eyes for a moment, then punched her right through the face. The force was enough to send her a foot back and to the ground. She looked up in disbelief, holding her face. The pain was so bad that she was sure her jaw had been fractured.

Draco looked down at her with pure contempt. "You thought you'd be clever, didn't you? Telling the servants everything that happened between us, knowing that word would get back to my father!"

Hermione frowned, her anger being sparked. "Not only do I have to endure your abuse, but I have to endure it in silence?!"

"Yes you do!" he screamed, squatting down beside her threateningly. "You knew my father would kill me if he found out I'd... mated... with a Mudblood!" He said the last part with the most disgusted voice he could muster. "Luckily he believed me over you, but it took me hours to convince him! Do you know how close you came to having me killed?!" At this point he had pulled her up to face him by her hair.

"Not near close enough, apparently," she said bitterly, unable to hold back her own trembling. A single, salty tear strolled down over her already-bruised cheek.

Draco growled and jerked her down face-first against the floor. She could almost hear her nose breaking. "Ungrateful little whore! I fed you, gave you a home, gave you clothes! If it wasn't for me, you'd still be on the streets, being fed left-over slops in your cage!"

She didn't move. She was afraid to, for he still had a handful of her hair. "If it wasn't for you, I'd still have a shred of hope," she said quietly, her voice muffled slightly by the floor.

He let go of her. "Hope for what?" he asked, almost laughing. What could a Mudblood possibly hope for, he wondered.

"Hope for a future," she said, turning her head to look up at him.

"Mudbloods don't have a future," he said coldly, "Your kind is predicted to die out within a matter of years."

Hermione looked surprised. "... How? There are so many of us..."

"Not as many as you think, and as long as you don't breed, how can you produce more?"

"Don't breed? You mean... we can't..." Hermione was almost stuttering in her shock.

"Mudbloods are not permitted to breed, under any circumstances. Therefore, I did you a favor the other night. If not for me, you'd be a virgin for the rest of your life," he said arrogantly, seemingly proud of himself.

Hermione sat up on the floor. "I'd rather have remained a virgin forever than to have you rape me."

Draco flashed her a glare. "Don't call it that. That's not what it was."

"Then what was it?! You forced yourself on me!"

"You enjoyed it!" he screamed back.

"Oh really?! Was that why I was crying the entire time?!"

Draco's features softened for a moment, as if the memory affected him. Then his glare returned. "Crying or not, I saw the look in your eyes that night! And need I remind you that your body reacted just the same as mine?"

Hermione blushed reflexively. "That's not the point! The point is that I told you no and you ignored me! You couldn't have cared less what I wanted! My feelings meant absolutely nothing to you! I've never felt so violated, or humiliated!"

Draco was still frowning. "Stop complaining. I risked my life to give you something you'd never have gotten otherwise."

"How dare you try to twist things around that way! You KNOW I didn't want that! At least have the guts to admit that you raped me!"

Draco stared at her silently for a moment, then he sighed. "All right. I admit that I raped you."

Hermione took a deep breath, then went on. "Okay, now I want to know why."

He looked at her sharply. "Pressing your luck, aren't you? I brought you up here with the intention to beat you into a bloody stain on the floor, which I may still do."

"I can handle that," she told him, "but I can't handle wondering why someone so disgusted by me would do such a thing."

"Maybe I was getting desperate," he said, "You're certainly rock bottom."

She tried to keep her composure. "Maybe, but I want a definite answer."

"For the thrill of it; for the danger. Because you're beautiful, even if you're filthy, and you're even more beautiful when I'm hurting you. That answer enough for you?" he asked, his blue eyes glistening.

She looked at him scornfully. "Why are you really doing this to me? All these mind games, trying to drive me insane. Do you really hate Mudbloods so badly?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! It was all staged, wasn't it? Coming out of the shower that night when I was in your bed, knowing I was watching, wearing your hair like that, not wearing your robes most of the time, showing me your body, and now telling me you think I'm beautiful! What sort of fool do you think I am?! I've figured out your plan, though! You wanted to make me fall in love with you, so you could just break my heart and laugh at me!"

Draco was speechless for a few minutes, allowing it all to sink in. She had been watching him that night, she'd been noticing his hair and what he wore. She was falling in love with him? But how? He'd been so cruel to her. It seemed ridiculous. He didn't even believe in love. "You thought... I was trying to make you fall in love with me?!"

"That was your plan, wasn't it?"

Draco laughed loudly. "I could care less if you fall in love with me or not! The very idea is hilarious! Love doesn't even exist!"

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. "You don't believe in love?"

"Of course not! Why should I? The whole concept is utterly stupid!"

"How can you have such a morbid view? You've lived your whole life with a loving family, in this huge house, with all the luxuries you could dream of! Do you have any idea how many people would kill for your life?!"

Draco laughed even harder. "Oh yes, my loving family! My wonderful father who barely knows who I am, and wouldn't hesitate a second to turn me over to the death sentence if he thought I'd had sex with a Mudblood! And this wonderful huge house, with all its empty rooms and silent hallways! Yes, I have a truly luxurious life!"

Hermione fell silent. She hadn't thought about Draco's feelings. It hadn't occurred to her that he was all alone. In the time she'd been at the house, she'd never seen a friend or visitor. He had all the material things he could ever hope for, but had nothing else. No wonder he was so bitter and cynical. No wonder he scoffed at love. He'd never encountered it before.

Suddenly she realized that she was sympathizing for him, and reminded herself of how brutally he had treated her. Nothing excused his behavior. "Nevertheless, you have been cruel to me, and I can't easily forget it."

"Likewise, I can't forget your little trick that nearly got me killed. You'll be punished, of course. I've actually just thought of a perfect punishment: Lashings!"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Lashings?!"

"The servants are lashed for misbehaving. Why shouldn't you?"

"But... lashings?! That's so... Middle Ages!"

"Which is exactly why we use it in our home. In the Middle Ages, people knew their place in society. Why? Because they were punished when they forgot."

Hermione frowned at him. "How could I forget my place when you remind me every two seconds?"

"Regardless, you'll be lashed one hundred times this evening. Just thought I'd give you something to look forward to," he said with a grin.

Hermione darkened her frown. "You deserve to be alone for the rest of your life," she told him before turning on her heel and going for the door. "I'll be waiting in my cell, if that's all right with you." Her voice was lined with venom.

Draco nodded, still grinning, and she opened the door to be greeted by two waiting servants. "Have a pleasant supper!" he called after her, but when the door closed, his grin faded.