Starlight

Starlight

Chapter Three

By Michelle Malfoy

I should have been hating Harry. Harry, for not being there for me. Why the fucking hell was he out there playing Quidditch against Ravenclaw when I so desperately needed him? And I hated Ginny. She, if anyone, was Harry's distraction from reality. Distracting him from me, from Ron, and from everything else. His classes, which he was now doing so poorly in. But the teachers didn't care. After all, he had defeated a Dark Lord. So apparently he didn't have to worry about anything - anything - except Ginny.

I should have been hating Dumbledore for giving Draco, as Head Boy, his own room. Any other person would have saved me, even Blaise Zabini or damned Pansy Parkinson who I hated so. Or at least that was what I kept telling myself. But since stupid Malfoy had his own suite, he didn't have to worry about anyone else - even Snape - finding out that he was keeping an imprisoned, wandless Gryffindor girl tied up in his living room. Not, of course, that many would care. He was Malfoy, king of Slytherin. He could do whatever he wanted.

Or so he thought.

He had no father anymore. His father was condemned to a life sentence in Azkaban. And his Master - who had, at one time, been not only the elder Malfoy's Master but his son's as well - was dead. Defeated, of course, by Harry Potter. The wonderful, terrific, unstoppable Harry Potter whom everyone worshipped. Of course, none of them knew what it was like to love him, to be loved by him, but to have those feelings shattered. To be abandoned by the perfect Harry Potter.

But back onto topic. I lay there, bruised and broken, for a long time. I waited... waited for Malfoy to return for me and inflict whatever torture he had in store. I found that I didn't really care what he did to me. If I were to give away secrets, so be it. If I were to suffer the Cruciatus... well, I supposed that as the cleverest witch in the year, I could probably work my way out of that. I was Hermione Granger, even though nobody seemed to acknowledge that anymore. True, I was different from the girl I once was, but... I was still Hermione. By a stretch of my memory, I was rescued from a twelve-foot mountain troll by that Harry Potter. I had been Petrified by the basilisk in second year. I had rescued Sirius Black - in vain - on a hippogriff, courtesy of an illegal Time-Turner. I had gone to the Yule Ball with accursed Viktor Krum, who had later turned out to be a Death Eater. And I had followed Harry to the Department of Mysteries in fifth year, even though I knew that Sirius wasn't really there. How could he be?

"Granger." His cold, drawling voice interrupted my thoughts. He lifted my chin up so I was looking at him, his gray eyes boring into my innocent brown ones. If I had taken the time to scrutinize his expression, I may have recognized what I saw in his eyes as, not loathing, but victory. But since the Final Battle, I had had no experience whatsoever in looking into people's eyes. No one's.

"Malfoy," I growled. "Get your hand off of me." His icy hand remained on my chin, causing me to continue to lock eyes with him. "Please?" I tried.

"You're not getting off that easy," he replied.

"And how, pray tell, are you planning to 'let me off?'" He grinned sadistically, having obviously been looking forward to my question.

"I won't, not exactly," he told me. The expression in my eyes was pleading him to hurry up; his cold touch hurt me the way Voldemort's did Harry. But, of course, Voldemort was gone. And Malfoy was still here to haunt me.

"Isn't it obvious Granger?" he asked me. "I am not about to let me go. Not without... certain advantages."

"Sorry Malfoy," I said, disgusted, "but I would rather anyone. Hell, I'd rather Goyle."

He seemed quite amused. "That could be arranged."

At my horrified expression, he did something I would not believed capable of such an evil person, and laughed. "No, Granger," he said, "I was referring to something else. I was thinking... what punishment would suit a girl chasing after my Master's murderer? And I pondered this, and realized that what you detest above all things is enslavement. Therefore," he said softly, "Captivas."

I knew the spell only a millisecond before it was too late. A jet of silver light shot from the end of his wand and slowly formed the shape of a necklace. It wrapped itself around my neck, choking me, and I could do nothing to prevent it. I fell backwards and Malfoy released my chin so my head would collide with the wall. Which, of course, it did. And as I attempted to stand up, the necklace tightened and tightened.

"Sit, Granger," Malfoy ordered. As I attempted to defy him once more, the necklace tightened further and I could tell that if it tightened any more, I would die. So I remained sitting. "Very good," he praised me with a nasty smile on his face. I knew only one thing; I didn't like that smile at all.

I didn't bother asking him what the spell was. I knew it, of course, from reading advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts books from the Restricted Section. The Captivas Curse... a spell that formed a necklace that could be tightened at the conjurer's will. And it marked me as Malfoy's slave. Something that I did not want to be. But I hardly had a choice - I could not refuse, now that the chain was around my neck and I was in his damned Head Boy room.

"Malfoy," I croaked, "let me go!"

"Why should I?" he asked reasonably.

"Because it's the right thing to do?"

"Right? Wrong? There is no such thing." I stared at him. Surely as Voldemort's servant, he knew that what he was doing was wrong. Or had he simply been brainwashed since birth? It struck me as the sort of thing Lucius might do. "There are only opportunities, Granger, and those too cowardly to seek them."

"Oh?" I asked loudly. "And what... opportunity calls for you to enslave a wandless Gryffindor girl?"

He grinned again, that grin that I knew I did not like. "Did you think," he whispered, "that after the Dark Lord's defeat I would return to being a normal student, one who never seen battle and longed for more? Did you assume that I would be a typical Slytherin - calling revenge and chasing after trouble rather than building on the work that the Dark Lord left for me?"

I had to admit that he was precisely right. I mean, I knew that Malfoy was nasty, misguided, and slightly twisted, but never did I assume that he was evil. Nor did I suspect that he would be so insane as to think that he was to be Voldemort's successor. But saying that to him in my current situation might lead to... unpleasant circumstances. So I kept my mouth shut.

That was definetly a smart move. "But, you know," he added as I tried to get up, "I have that chain to tighten if you disobey me." I didn't doubt him. If he really planned to be Voldemort's successor, then I was his official guinea pig for his Dark Magic practice. And if I knew anything about the way villains' minds worked - which I did - then he was really enjoying it.

"Can I go up to Gryffindor Tower now?" I whined loudly. He grinned.

"No. I need you to attend to my whims. You cannot do that from Gryffindor Tower, now can you?" Then a slow smile formed on his face. "By the way," he added, "what's the Gryffindor password."

I kept my lips tightly sealed. "As you wish," he shrugged, and the chain on my neck began to tighten, choking me. I whimpered loudly, pleading him to stop as I fell to my knees in suffocation. For a moment, the chain continued to tighten, but then it stopped. "Tell me," he ordered coldly.

Seeing no other option, I muttered, "Balderdash."

He grinned again, then murmured, "Captivas Advancus." An impossibly thick wire knotted itself around the chain on my neck and protruded into Malfoy's hand. He dragged me out of the room with a sickenining smile on his pale face.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"BALDERDASH!" Draco yelled loudly. The Fat Lady swung open and Draco dragged me inside. I glanced inside, scared of whom I might see inside. As Harry and Ginny swung their armchair around, my worst fears were confirmed. Harry had an uncaring expression on his face and Ginny looked simply interested as Draco pulled the wire attached to the chain once, very roughly, and I fell to the ground on my knees.

I heard a snort of laughter from the armchair in which Harry and Ginny sat. Whomever had laughed quickly sobered and continued to stare at me. Everyone in the room was staring at Draco and me. "Hmm," Draco mused. "It seems that Granger was correct in giving me the password." A murmur ran through the Common Room, as though everyone doubted whether goody-two-shoes Hermione Granger could ever associate with such an evil Slytherin.

"Herm - Granger!" Harry snarled. "What the hell d'you think you're playing at, giving him the password?!? And following him around like an abandoned little bitch... just because I'm going out with Ginny doesn't mean that you can go off replacing Pansy Parkinson in Malfoy's fucking fan club!"

I looked at him with hurt in my eyes. Never before had he deliberately insulted me in front of a group of people. Malfoy smirked at me. He, if nobody else, knew that I was still in love with Harry. And if his word was anything to go by, Harry loved me too.

Yeah right.

And he called me Granger. Well, I decided, at least he wasn't calling me Mudblood.

I approached him with confrontation in my eyes, prepared to recriminate him and make him feel just as awful. "Get away Mudblood!" he growled, curling up tighter in Ginny's arms.

It was then that Malfoy tugged on the wire and I was pulled back towards his ankles. The room roared with laughter as he kicked me towards the wall roughly. I heard no cries of "get away from her" as he continued to kick me, for I was no longer a true Gryffindor. I was an outsider.

"What're you doing in here, Malfoy?" came Ron's voice from the other end of the Common Room. He was sitting with his arm around Parvati's shoulders. Of course. He was Parvati's boyfriend.

Malfoy grinned. "Just taking the Mudblood for a walk," he smirked. He kicked me again. "Get up," he ordered. What other choice did I have? I stood up so slowly that I was sure he would resort to kicking me, but he didn't.

"What are you doing with her?" I looked around quickly to see who had spoken. It was Ron's voice, but I was dubious of whether Ron would ever stand up for me anymore. He hated Harry, I knew that much, but instead of staying friends after the Final Battle, Ron had started going out with Parvati.

End of a bad story.

"Why do you care?" Malfoy asked reasonably. "You don't, do you? You don't care about her and you haven't for a long time. So why does it matter to you?"

"Because - because - because..." Ron trailed off, unable to come up with an answer.

Malfoy smirked. "It's too late, Weasley. The Mudblood's mine now." I had no idea what he was supposed to mean when he said that, but a few whispers ran through the room.

"Don't you dare touch her," I half-expected someone to warn him. But nobody said anything.

Except, of course, Harry. He was determined to make sure that everyone knew just how much he hated me. So he grinned. "Have fun with her," he told Malfoy.

"Oh, don't worry, Potter, I will," Malfoy said softly. "I will."