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Yes, Master	By : Haydron Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 11713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the characters associated with Harry Potter. No money has been made from this piece of fanfiction.

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Chapter 3: Nothing says it like Dinner

O

And unceremoniously, just like that, he got up. "Follow me," he said; walking away towards the Parlour door. Hermione struggled to her feet, and rather proudly, managed to follow his instruction at a distance. Her legs were hurting like hell, but her steps were feather light, if a little wavering.

Draco snorted in derision, and opened the door.

She could pretend all she liked, but they both knew the truth.

"I'm sending you to the kitchens to prepare dinner," he was full of information. "Under watchful eyes, of course. There's no trusting a mud blood with high quality food. They'll poison it the first chance they get!"

Oh yes, Hermione rolled his eyes. Who could argue against that flawed logic?

She noticed he took a sharp turn to his left, down a staircase angled at a deep slope. It was frightfully tiny to look at, let alone travel across. Centuries worth of aged stone crowded the passageway, making it claustrophobic. Halfway down, Hermione found she was struggling to breathe.

Draco, the evil git, seemed to have no such problem. He shouldered the flaky, oak door and burst onto a scene, of twelve house-elves rapidly moving from side to side. Pots were bubbling, brooms were sweeping the floor unaided, and the sink was frothing with uncontrollable bubbles. Hermione squinted; making out plates and glasses, dunking themselves in and out.

"Ester!" Draco barked.

"Yes, master?" Ester, the poor thing, appeared in front of him and did a low curtsey.

"I want you to watch this creature," he pointed back at her, still standing in the crux of the passageway with a gaping mouth. "She's not to be left alone in here, understand? Put her to hard toil. Make her hands bleed. But whatever you do, don't comfort it! However pitiful this creature might look, she is beneath you. Treat it as such!"

Ester turned to her, trembling. "Miss…"

Hermione gasped when Draco raised an eyebrow, and understanding flooded Ester's weathered face. She reached for a rolling pin, and began bashing her head with startling force.

"Stop!" she cried. "Make her stop!"

"Silencio," Draco cast through gritted teeth. He didn't look at her, when he pushed her aside for the exit. Hermione was rendered irrevocably mute. She hurried over to Ester's side, and tried to wrestle the rolling pin out of her hands without much thought. Suddenly, Ester's hands went slack and the pin struck Hermione square in the forehead.

Hermione hunched over, doubled in pain.

"You shouldn't have done that!" Ester cried. "Mind your own business! Here -" a peeler was shoved in front of her nose. "Stand over there, and peel those carrots!"

Ester was pushing her, relentlessly, towards the darkest, most unfriendly corner of the kitchen. A mountain of carrots was sitting by the drain board, waiting to be peeled. "You have a hour!" Ester set the impossible task, deeply upset.

Hermione stared blankly at the carrots, a vein throbbing in her forehead. Being treated like a slave, made her realize exactly how house-elves were regarded in Pure-blooded households. They were second-class citizens. Not even that. The SPEW propaganda she had memorised in fourth year, suddenly was forefront in her mind.

Slowly, methodically, she started peeling the skin.

A task that was still incomplete, a hour later, when the bells started ringing for the start of dinner. Two house-elves scurried up, carrying ten plates between them, and one returned only a few minutes later. He whispered into Ester's ear, and they both stopped to watch the human, still blissfully unaware of her fate.

"Master wants you to serve," a hand tugged her shift.

Hermione looked down, sinking back to Earth. "But the carrots…" she gestured, her hand coming up in surprise to her throat. Her voice was back!

"They have already been peeled, just in case."

Another mountain of carrot skin, was sitting opposite the room. Dawning realisation fell upon Hermione. No-one was ever going to eat the carrots she peeled. The house-elves all had it under control. They were only placating their master, by setting her up with a meaningless role.

"Master wants you to serve," Ester repeated. "Only you. He specifically requested."

"Do you hate me?" she whispered, knowing the house-elves felt cheated out of a job.

"Go."

Hermione put down the carrot peeler, and tried to step away. She made a hash job of it, the combination of standing still and freshly whipped calves causing her to stumble and fall. Some of the house-elves looked ready to help, but thought better of it. Ester nudged a chair leg towards her, in pretence of scuttling back.

A small grin threatened to break free. Hermione used the chair, as a brace to stand up and walk to the exit, feeling euphoric. The other house-elf was waiting at the top of the stairs, eager to lead her to the dining room.

All happiness drained from her being; the moment she stepped inside.

"You!" shrieked Bellatrix. "Deserve to be taught a lesson!"

"Not now, Bellatrix," Lucius said annoyed. "I'd rather finish my meal in peace for once."

Wide-eyed, Hermione took in the faces sitting at the long, ornate table. Nobody was sitting at the head, perhaps reflecting the state of turmoil inside Malfoy Manor. A shiver crept over Hermione, as she wondered if that place, was perpetually always reserved for Lord Voldemort. Directly adjacent to it, sat Draco's parents, opposite each other. Lucius was currently glaring at Bellatrix, who was sitting next to her sister, and opposite her own husband.

Draco brought up the rear of the troupe, choosing to side with Rodolphus.

"Then come here!" Bellatrix snapped. "Fill up my glass, you worthless squib."

Hermione jerked in surprise.

She pictured the calamity that will one day be thrust upon Bellatrix's head.

And then she started walking, spotting a transparent jug of water sitting by Draco's hand. She bent down, to grab the handle and noticed his fist being held deathly still. Not wishing to feel the extent of a punch, Hermione hurriedly withdrew herself, and walked around the table to Bellatrix, who was holding out her glass expectantly.

Her hands shook as she poured; aware they were all judging her.

Thankfully, a single drop wasn't spilt and Hermione brought the jug back to her chest, prepared to serve whomever demanded it next.

What she didn't expect, was Bellatrix to rear her hand back, and throw a glass of chilled water in her face. "I didn't ask you for water, you silly bint," Bellatrix jerked her head to another jug, this one made from copper. "I want wine."

Hermione spluttered, wiping droplets from her eyes. Rain always made her hair frizzy, and she could feel it puffing up now. Was this a test? The crazy bitch, full well knew, Hermione was coming round with water but didn't breathe a word. What was her game?

"Bella," Narcissa warned, in a low voice.

"What?" Bellatrix shrugged, uncaring. "At least my glass got a good rinse. It's been gathering dust up here for ages, you know."

"Granger."

Oh, not now. Hermione, already full of troubles, looked up to see Draco watching her intensely over his plate. What did he want? His aunt was being sycophantic as it was, she didn't need a reminder of whom she truly belonged to on this table.

"There's a speck on my shoe." He challenged. "Why don't you polish it?"

With pleasure, Hermione turned towards the doors, prepared to run out and find some polish, if it meant leaving these people behind.

"Come round."

Resigned, Hermione reluctantly walked round the table, aware Lucius was digging into the meal the house-elves already brought. Apparently he was the only one, sane enough to gulp down some food, before engaging in light torture.

"Bend down."

Draco smirked at her, egging on Bellatrix's enthusiasm, and waited until Hermione was closer to his level. He pointed at an invisible spot on the apex of his shoe, and said it was dirty. "I want you to lick it, Granger. Lick it until I'm satisfied."

"But there's nothing there." Hermione stated simply.

"Of course it's there," Draco furrowed his brows in sympathy. "Oh, poor Granger. You can't see it, because you haven't eaten all day! Here." He lifted up his entire plate, and emptied it on the floor, near her. "Have something to eat."

"How awfully kind." Bile rose in her throat.

"Not before you pour me a glass!" Bellatrix barked, much to Narcissa's dismay. Hermione, sick of the situation, straightened up for the jug of wine. This time, she didn't bother walking round the table. Balancing herself on one hand, Hermione poured the wine to the exact volume she poured the water.

She hadn't even put the jug down before the wine, like it's predecessor, ended up on her face.

"Was that necessary?" Narcissa hissed.

Bellatrix didn't even pretend it was an accident. "Cissy, darling," she drawled. "This mudblood is an eyesore. Walking in here, how dare she! I'm going to take great pleasure in cutting her to ribbons."

Hermione was dripping head to toe, and so it turned out, was Draco. Even he hadn't been quick enough to deflect the wrath of his aunt aimed at her. Rodolphus produced a napkin from the dinner service, and handed it to Draco.

Draco snatched it, and threw it back down on the table.

Hermione instinctively reached out to grab it. Unlike Draco, she didn't have the privilege of a wand. Bellatrix, spotting this small mercy, barked at Hermione to freeze.

"Surely you should tend to your master, before you tend to yourself." she sneered.

Puerile hatred embodied her spirit. These people had nothing on the vengeance she planned for them, when Harry rescued her. Rescuing herself, was an even better option. She was never very good at playing damsel in distress, and wasn't going to break a habit of a lifetime. Hermione grabbed the napkin, and started dabbing at Draco ferociously.

He batted her away, more in surprise than anything else, but was astonished when she yanked his head to the side, by clutching his chin, and wiped the column of his neck. "What are you doing?" he choked, as Bellatrix hushed him, a scheming light in her eyes.

He swore to himself, justifying the only reason he remained in that chair, was because he was taken aback by Bellatrix's response. Nothing else. Hermione noticed a few globules of wine had landed on his lap, and she dabbed at it, a few of those jabs, squirreling against his crotch.

The breath went out of Draco.

For a few blind seconds, he thought it was twitching back in response. If it was, the world was over as he knew it. He had tried all his life not to be attracted to mudbloods. He thought he had succeeded. They were scum. He had a puritan upbringing, and always knew they were perforated with disease, and sticking your cock into one, was akin to it dropping off charcoaled to a crisp.

He never had the desire.

It was a disgusting desire.

But no. He wasn't hardening in lust. He was hardening in outrage. Every bone in his body was bristling in barely controlled anger. A hand lashed out, and Hermione's wrist was caught mid-daub.

She raised her eyes, and what she saw scared her.

Draco's lips were drawn back, in a snarl, and his teeth looked like they were coated in venom. His eyes, were swirling, like a storm. And occasionally lightening flashed in those orbs.

"You degenerate bitch!" he hissed. "Get off me!"

Bellatrix let out a loud whooping laugh, as Hermione was thrown against the floor, right next to those dog scraps Draco had dropped on the floor earlier for her.

Who said Mondays weren't fun…

Harry pointed at the map, so hard, his finger went through. But Ron didn't chide him. Rather he shared that pinched, unsure look Hermione often sported when they were searching for the horcruxes.

Life had been miraculously well, those first few weeks after Ron had come back. Morale was high in the camp, because the locket had been destroyed, and this uplifted all their moods to normalcy again.

But then that awful day.

Hermione had woken up early to gather some herb or another, when she was snatched and easily disarmed. Harry was on the scene in seconds, but they had disapparated, leaving no clues behind. Ron had been aghast. He had spent hours, crying, ridiculously mimicking Hermione to how she was when he wasn't there.

The first time round, it had begun to wear thin, and the second wasn't much different either.

Hunt for horcruxes temporarily suspended, they had spent four days pouring over maps, and discussing possible places Hermione could be kept captive.

Azkaban was top of their list.

O

AN:

MorningSnow: What a good piece of advice :D When I get round to re-editing (after this story is finished) - yours is the first piece I will look at. Because I do agree, and definitely need to develop reasoning behind actions.

HeavyMist: Heya! Thanks for reading. Yes, that's exactly what I was going for! (You didn't misunderstand). Draco is meant to be all "Dark" but not so "Dark" he's absolutely vile to write about!

Jeez. Thank you ladies.
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Yes, Master