The Bloody Anne Saga

Tattered
Part Two in the Bloody Anne Saga
“This place feels so unfamiliar, but yet I know it well. I think I used to belong here…”
“Spanish Doll”
-Poe

Pain.
That’s all he felt.
Pain everywhere.
He’d been dragged into a room, and then pounced upon by a large crowd of cloaked figured. Punching, and kicking, screaming and curses thrown. He’d tried to fight back at first, but finally curled into a small ball trying to protect him as much as possible. His throat waw frw from screaming, even after he swore to himself they would not make his cry out and his face was wet, b fro from blood or tears he couldn’t tell. After what seemed like hours, he heard the most beautiful word in the English language.
“Stop!”medimediately, all activity stopped, the crowd backing up. He laid there, his school robes and uniform ripped and bloody, his blond hair almost brown with dirt, his face a mass of bruises.
He heard someone walking towards him, but could eopenopen one eye. He lay there, trying not to move, hell, trying not to breath.
“That’s enough. I don’t want him dead.” The voice said again, closer to him. He knew that voice, why did it sound so familiar? “I have many more interesting plans for him other than being beaten to death.”
Granger. His mind screamed out. Before he could say anything, a hand came down, pressing on his chest. He cried out, and the world went black.

The first thing he felt when he woke up was softness. He groaned, wincing as his throat cried out in protest. Risking the pain, he cautiously opened one eye, then the other. He was in a room, the fireplace crackling to his right. Sitting up, he winced again as his muscles protested also and the event from before came rushing back to him. Lifting his arm to rub his chest, he glanced around the room frowning.
He’d heard Granger’s voice through the crowd. It was Granger who told the other to stop. And they had listened to her. It was also her voice that told the crowd she had other plans for him. Pulling off the blankets, he chanced a glance at his body relieved to find he was wearing clothing. Hanging his legs off the side of the bed, he scrubbed his hands over his face, and then took stock of his appearance. There weren’t as many bruises on his body as he’d imagined. Lifting his shirt, he noticed the white cloth tightly bound across his chest. One of his ribs must have been broken. Feeling his face again, he didn’t feel any bruising. Either he’d been healed with magic or he’d been out longer than he realized.
“What are you doing up?” A perplexed voice said to his left. Looking over, he spotted Hermione shutting the door behind her with one hand, while the other held a bottle.
“Where am I?” He snapped. An eyebrow rose, and she smirked slightly. Walking over to a table by the bed, she placed the bottle down and picked up a bowl.
“My bedroom. You’ve been out for three days. Really Malfoy, I’d thought you were made of better stuff than that.”
“Is this the only way you can get men into your bedroom, mudblood?” He sneered. “Unconscious?”
Before he could blink, she was in front of him, her hand pressed hard against his chest. He gasped, his eyes tearing from the sharp pain suddenly against his lungs.
“One of my people kicked you so haa ria rib snapped and punctured your right lung.” She hissed in his ear. “One hard push and you can relieve that pain all over again.”
Suddenly, the pain was gone and Hermione was walking back to the table, leaving him to sit there gasping shallowly for air.
“Now.” She said, pouring the contents of the bottle into a glass. “Drink this.”
He looked at her, still holding his injured chest. “No. What is it?”
“A bone-mending potion. For your ribs and your ankle.”
Looking down, he noticed his right ankle was wrapped also.
“I had to wait until you woke up before I could give you this.” She handed him the glass. “Now drink.”
Taking the glass from her, he downed the contents, making a face at the taste.
“Ugh. Why can’t anyone ever make a potion that tastes good?”
“Medicine never tastes good.” She remarked, taking the now empty glass from him. “Even in the Muggle world.”
The events of three days ago, surfaced in his brain. “What enedened? And where in the hell are we anyway? This detelytely doesn’t look like Hogwarts.”
Smiling, she pulled a chair from a dressing table and sat down.
“Very observant. We’re currently in what used to be the Ministry of Magic. It’s now my fortress. School’s over, I’ve sent a couple of my people to pick up our diplomas for the sentimental value. I would assume most of the students are probably at homll tll the ones with parents. And the teachers who are still alive are probably wherever they go during the summer months.”
He shook his head. It was too much to take in. The last thing he remembered before the beating was being in the Great Hall, Potter’s hand on his shoulder, surrounded by students and several fallen teachers. And a mass of black-cloaked figures led by Hermione.
“Lord Voldemort really is dead, then.”
“Did you not believe me when I stated that at the school? Yes, Voldemort is dead as are most of his followers. There are some that aren’t. Either they haven’t been found yet or we have a special execution for them. Actually, I was waiting for you to awaken before we began the executions.”
“You are going to kill me, too?” He sneered. “Like you murdered my parents?”
“Your father murdered my parents.” She snapped. “And I didn’t kill your mother, I merely had her killed. And no, as I told your father before I murdered him, I have other plans for you.” She smiled coldly.
His eyes narrowed, shinindarkdark gray. “I will do nothing for your pleasure!” He spat out. “You may as well kill me now, mudblood, because when I finally get a hold of you, you will beg for mercy!”
Hermione smiled again, standing up. “I was going to wait until you were completely healed, but since you seem so eager to begin.” She raised a hand pushing it forward into empty air.
“Bondulous!”
Draco gasped again as the pressure on his chest increased, the wrap around his chest shrinking. Looking up at her, wide-eyed, as he unsuccessfully tried to rip off the wrap. She walked towards him slowly, taking in the image.
“Finite incandieum.” She said. The pressure stopped, and he gasped for breath. Leaning towards him, her caramel eyes glinting maniacally
“I’m going to oversee your torture completely, Draco.” She hissed. “You will know the true meaning of pain when I am finished with you. You will atone for everything you’ve done over the last seven years. And when I am finally finished with you, you will not be begging for mercy, like you rather dramatically told me you would have me do. No, you’re going to beg for more.”
“You’re insane!” He exclaimed. She shook her head slowly.
“No. I am the leader of the new age in the wizarding world. And you, Draco Malfoy, will be nothing more than my pet when I’m through.”
Placing her hand on his chest and pushing, she smiled as a small cry finally left his lips. “Now. Let the punishments begin.”

The muttering of someone else in his cell awakened Draco. Blinking, he sat up, scanning the partial darkness. Sitting up, he winced slightly, his hand automatically going over to cover old wounds. True to her promise, Hermione had overseen all of his tortures. And took a perverse sort of pleasure from every time he cried out in pain. He’d lost track of time dago…ogo…or perhaps months. He did know punishments weren’t every day. Pushing his filthy hair from his face, he looked around for the sounds. He spotted someone sitting at the far corner of his cell, his or her hands chained up. Crawling over, because his legs still hurt too much from the last punishment, he made his way to the other person, recognizing them as he approached.
“Flint?”
The dark haired man’s head snapped towards the sound. “Who’s there?” He demanded.
Draco crawled closer, letting the murky light settle on him. Marcus Flint’s face showed recognition.
“Malfoy? Merlin, you’re still alive? We figured you for dead by now.”
Draco shook his head slightly, still hurting from another session with Hermione. “No. I’m beginning to wish I were though. How the hell did they find you?”
“Stupidity. I thought we were better hidden than that.” He shifted a bit, wincing. “We’re sitting there, working out where Anne’s going to strike next and suddenly, the entire safe house is overrun with her troupes.”
“Shoushouse? What the hell are you talking about?”
Marcus looked at him. “You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?” Draco shook his head again.
“Merlin Malfoy, it’s a nightmare out there. It’s like a fucked up version of everything Voldemort preached about. Mudbloods are the power now, and the pureblooded wizards and witches are being hunted down and destroyed. You either following in line with the new regime or you get mowed down. Nobody’s safe. And if your parents were Death Eaters…you’re pretty much living on borrowed time. The thing is; nobody knows how she’s doing it. She seems to know everything about us. Where we are, our safe houses, what we do. She can’t have that many spies in the resistance groups.”
“Resistance? There are resistance groups?”
Marcus nodded. “Of course. The purebloods that don’t agree or refuse to go alone with the new rules are hiding out like scared lambs. Potter and Weasley are leading small factions of resistance groups in attacks and…”
“Potter?” Draco asked, incuriously. You were following Potter? And the Weasel? My gods, how bad has it gotten.”
“Things change!” Marcus insisted darkly. “With Voldemort’s death, the world as we knew it has gone to hell. Anne the Bloody has made damn sure of that. The two men that used to be her best friends are now trying to stop her.” He sighed, pulling uselessly at his bonds. “Snape’s dead, did you know?”
Draco looked at him in shock. “What? How?”
Marcus’ eyes darkened. “Anne. She gave him a deal. All I know was I was there when they burned his body in public. I was hiding of course, but I saw the whole thing.”
“What about the others? McGonagall? Dumbledore? Hooch?”
“Dumbledore’s dead. He was killed on Graduation Day when they overran Hogwarts. I think McGonagall is still teaching at Hogwarts along with Hooch and the other teachers. I do know Hogwarts is still open, still teaching students. I know Anne wanted to talk with her.”
“Okay, wait….” Draco frowned, still trying to make sense of everything. Snape and Dumbledore dead? Flint following Potter? “First, who’s this Anne?”
“Malfoy, I don’t have time to rehash the entire last five months with you…”
“Five months! It’s been five months?”
The door opened before an answer could be given and both men looked up blinking. A figure walked in and Draco’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“Ahh, catching up with old friends, I see.” Hermione said, closing the door behind her. Next to him, Flint’s face took on a hard edge.
“Think you’re so cleaver because you caught me?” He sneered. “I’m not even the main leader, I’m just a lieutenant.”
She smiled openly. “No. I think I’m pretty dammed clever because I have your entire faction.” She looked thoughtful. “Well, except Parkinson, but that little slut was always slippery. I’m not going to assume she’s dead, but we’ll find her in time.” Glancing over at Draco, she smiled. “Whatever did you see in her, my pet? Other than the fact that the rest of the males and possibly some of the females in your House were doing her.”
“Fuck you!” Flint raged, before Draco could evind ind his voice. Hermione turned back to him her eyes shining angrily.
“Not tonight. Tomorrow, your faction will be executed in the public square, but tonight…tonight I have other plans for you.”
Draco shivered, shying away from Flint. He knew from first hand experience what her “other plans” usually entailed.
“Flint,” he hissed. “Keep your fucking mouth shut for a change.”
“Now, now, my pet.” She purred, walking towards them. “If Flint here wishes to get his last words in, who am I to stop him? Although, I really did expect heroics. Something along the lines of ‘Potter and his group will stop you.’ Or perhaps ‘We know what you’re doing and we aren’t going to let you get away with it.’ But then again, Slytherin’s aren’t known for their heroics, are they?” Bending down, she spoke under her breath, and then ran a hand along Marcus’ chest. Marcus shuddered, his eyes closing in bliss, before opening again with an expression of horror. Hermione smiled, stepping back.
“Like it? It’s a new spell I found in the basement.” She laughed. “This place is incredible. Did you know there is an entire system down in the basement with nothing but old, forgotten and illegal spells and curses? I’m in heaven. Absolute heaven.” She fixed her gaze on Marcus; the glint coming back to her eyes, followed by a small smirk. Draco panicked scrambling further back. He knew that look and it usually wasn’t followed by anything good.
“I also found this wonderful spell I plan on using on your faction tomorrow.” She stated. “But I need to test it first…to see if it works the way it should.”
Marcus glared at her, pulling at the bonds. “You’re weak!” He spat out. “Do your worst, you mudblood bitch!”
Hermione stepped back, and smiled. “I love my men eager.” Raising her hands and forming her fingers into claws, she called out the curse.
“Repectious internal!”
Flint flinched as the spell hit him, then nothing. He looked up at her, grinning.
“I told you, you couldn’t do a spell ri…” he stopped, a look of pain suddenly crossing his features. Then he screamed. Draco blanched, and ignoring the pain in his legs, scrambled up and dove for cover in the furthest corner he could find, his arms covering his head, barely peeking.
Flint’s body jerked on its own accord as his blood rushed to the surface. His skin split slowly at first, as his internal organs seemed like they were trying to claw their way out of his body. It started at his feet, winding its way up both legs, then to the groin, the stomach, arms, chest, neck and finally head. Organs clawed out of the body housing them, falling wetly on the floor. The screaming finally stopped when the head started to d thd then finally split open the brain sliding out of its housing to fall wetly on the floor with its comrades.
Hermione nodded slowly, studying the effects of the curse.
“Effective. Messy, but effective.” She stated clinically, wiping some of the blood from her face.
From the far corner he sounds of retching could be heard. Turning her attention to the other occupant in the cell she started to walk over to him.
Draco wiped his mouth, glancing up at the sounds of footsteps. She was coming toward shim, covered in Flint’s blood. He now knew whom Flint was speaking of when he talked of Anne the Bloody. Panicked, he scrambled backwards, sliding and falling in wet mess beside him.
“No!” He screamed. “Stay away from me!”
She stopped, frowning thoughtfully.
“Hmmm… I am rather a mess.” She turned around walking back towards the door. “Don’t worry my pet, I won’t experiment that curse on you. I don’t want you dead.”
The door closed be her her, leaving him to sigh in relief for a scant moment before he remembered where he was.
She was halfway down the corridor when the screaming began again.


The door to his cell slammed open, startling him awake. Looking up, he cowered back as two tall men stormed in, grabbing him form the small cot and dragging him out of the cell. Trying to keep up with them, while trying not to draw attention to himself, he half walked, half stumbled after them. Stumbling from lack of food and sleep, he got a punch to his back for the trouble.
Usually Anne came in and got him herself for punishments; because when anyone else collected him, he ended up arriving to her later than usual and looking like he was worked over. Which was usually accurate on both cases. In cases when something, be it the resistance, her people, or him, made her furious, she would send someone to fetch him and didn’t even notice the new bruises.
Down the hallway, he was knocked to the ground, and then hauled back up, his feet refusing to work. Dragging him into a large room, her favorite for his torture, they dragged him in, chaining him up to a set of manacles attached to a large arch. Flinching, he waiting for the first punc com come, now that he was completely incapable to protect himself. The two men turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.
He scanned the room, his heart pounding. This wasn’t good. To simple follow orders without the added “fun” they usually had, Lady Anne must be somewhere past furious. Dimly wondering if he was going to survive this little “session”, he jumped when he heard the door to the room fly open, then slam shut. There was enough light in the room for him to see she wasn’t at all happy.
She stormed into the room, pulling a small control out of her pants pocket and hitting a button. Immediately loud music flowed through the room and he flinched. She once mentioned Muggle music and he assumed this was some of it, but to him it was just loud noise that hurt his ears. At times he could feel the music’s beat hit against his body. She was pacing the floor, muttering angrily under her breath, her brown hair flying around behind her. He watched her, intrigued. He could almost see the raw power crackling around her as she paced the floor. Not even Lord Voldemort could summon that much raw power by himself, when he was alive. It was almost seductive. Frowning and shaking his head to rid himself from those thought. What the hell was he thinking? She was a mudblood, first off. A mudblood bitch, who murdered his parents, kidnapped him from Hogwarts, locked him in a small cell for Merlin only know how long it’d been now, and entertained herself with his torture for supposed crimes against her and two people she doesn’t even speak to anymore.
His movement caught her attention and she stopped, frowning. Picking up a goblet, she turned her attention to the shackled man in the middle of the floor.
“Who the hell brought you in here?” She demanded. He turned his attention to her, freezing. Her eyes flashed angrily, as she stalked towards him.
“Did someone curse your tongue? Speak up!”
Not daring to break eye contact, he shrugged slightly. Her eyes narrowed.
“You are completely worthless!” She spat out, pulling another object out of her pocket and thumbing it.
“Fiona!”
A crackle, then he heard her right hand assistant’s voice. “Yes, Lady Anne?”
“Could you please find someone to explain to me just why Draco is chained up in the red room?”
Silence.
“He’s what? Give me five minutes and I’ll have the entire story.”
Anne placed the object back in her pocket, glaring back at the bound man. “Ask a pure-blood a simple question and they choke. The entire lot of you should be exterminated. Eradicated from the world and start from scratch. Because apparently the pure-bloods left now are too stupid to realize anything.” Taking a drink from the goblet, she placed it violently on the table next to her. “Starting with that little red haired freak and his bitch of a little sister.”
He couldn’t help it; he snickered, knowing exactly whom she was talking about. She whirled on him, her eyes flashing.
“Something funny?”
“You’ve seen Weasley.” He stated. Growling softly, she turned away from him.
“You’re all alike!” She raged. “The difference is some of your kind didn’t bother to hide your beliefs. I almost respect that. Almost. The only one I ever regret having killed was Percy. He was the only intelligent one in the whole brood, but even he was too stupid to accept the inevitable change.”
“You were warned. We’re not going to accept change. Especially from Muggle borns.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before his body was racked with an intense biting pain. He screamed, caught unaware, his legs giving out for a moment, the chains around his wrists thly tly thing holding him up.
“Shut up!” Anne screamed. She stalked over to him grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at her. He looked over through pain-clouded eyes.
“The only thing I want to hear come out of your mouth are screams for mercy.” She hissed, letting him go, and placing at hand on his chest.
“Cruatious!”
His body jerked as the pain hit him again.
Two hours later, a small knock on the door finally stopped her. Her hair was plastered to her face, hody ody covered in sweat, her clothing sticking to her, breathing heavily. He hung there, gasping for breath, sobbing softly. His body was covered in sweat and blood, the cuts across his body finally beginning to stop bleeding. His legs gave out earlier and his shoulders were protesting loudly at being forced to hold up his entire body weight.
Pushing her hair from her face, she walked over to the door, unlocking it. Fiona stepped in, not even glancing at the battered body hanging in the middle of the room. Taking in Anne, she smiled.
“Some of the men were on edge from this afternoon’s event and felt you needed an outlet for your frustrations.” She told her, eyeing her appearance. “It seems they were correct.”
“Quite. I feel much better. Tell them thank you, but never again are they to bring him out without my permission.”
Fiona nodded once, and then slipped out of the room, locking the door behind her. Turning her attention back to the other figure in the room, she walked over towards him, surveying her handiwork. Saying nothing, she turned and walked towards a smaller door in the room, entering it and shutting it behind her.
He hung there, exhausted, his mind even to tired to scream at him.
You’re going to die here. Part of his mind told him calmly. Because you couldn’t keep you mouth shut, she’s going to leave you up here to die. And you deserve it.
Nobody deserves this. The smaller part answered.
You Wo Would it be so bad to accept your fate? It asked. To call her Mistress, and to just sit at her side. If you don’t make her angry, you’d be almost favored. And alive.
Would that be living?
Do you want to die like Flint? Came the counter.
She’s a mu…a mu…
We can’t even say the word anymore. The answer came. Admit it. We belong to her anyway. Its just time to accept that fact.

He heard the door open again, but he was too tired to look up. Footsteps came toward shim, and he finally lifted his eyes to see her walking towards him. Shrinking back, he bit back a moan when his shoulders protested again. She stopped in front of him, and reached out a hand.
“I’m sorry my Lady.” He rasped, shying from her hand. “I won’t talk, please.”
He heard her say something, but he couldn’t understand what she had said. Her hand reached out to brush his cheek and he almost collapsed. A wave of calmness crashed over him. He was safe; everything was going to be fine. As long as he did what he was told, he would be safe.
Just accept it. His mind said. Give in.
His eyes slid shut and he turned his face towards her hand. He heard her sigh, then suddenly his arms were free, and her arms were around him, gently helping him to the floor.
“Oh Draco, look what you made me do.” She sighed again, brushing wet hair from his face.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured again, his eyes still closed. The floor was so cool and he was so tired, he could just fall asleep here. “I’ll be good.”
He felt her hand on his cheek again, and shuddered once, before the darkness surrounded him.

He looked out the window, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming in the small window in his cell. For the first time in months he hadn’t awoken freezing. He could see green grass and flowers, and in the distance the warm breeze was blowing through the lush trees. He reasoned it was late spring, which meant he’d been here almost a year. Turning away from the window, uggeugged himself walked back to the small bed in the room. Almost a year. This also meant he was a year older. This time last year, he was at Hogwarts getting ready for graduation and leaving to face the world on his own. Okay not really, chances were he would have ended up a Death Eater and taken his place next to his father under Lord Voldemort. But never in his worst nightmares did he ever believe that he would be trapped in a small cell in the dungeons of the old Ministry of Magic, being used as a personal slave for a Muggle born witch. Standing up, he walked over to the door of his cell, pushing it open. A while back, Lady Anne had given him permission to walk the dungeons. His door was no longer locked, but he was not stupid enough to believe that he wasn’t still a prisoner. Stepping out into the hall, he turned left and began walking. He was grateful for the new allowances and the dungeons was large enough that he could walk a bit every day and still never reach the end of it. And he had to admit, he was curious. He knew there were several rooms down here that held great importance to Lady Anne, although for the life of him he couldn’t remember what they were.
Taking another left, he raised an eyebrow, spotting a door at the end of the hall. He walked towards it, pushing back the sudden fear telling him not to step through that door. Lady Anne never told him any of the rooms down here were forbidden, so technically he couldn’t get into trouble for entering them.
At least that’s what he was telling himself. Reaching the door, he tried the knob. It turned smoothly in his hand and the door opened quietly. Releasing a trembling breath, he pushed the door open further and stepped in, closing it behind him. Taking another step into the room, he suddenly froze, his eyes widening in shock.
This room was something that nightmares were created for. The room was black and silver, carried various types of torture devices and several table of various shaped and sizes were scattered randomly throughout. Two large metal chairs sere situated towards the back wall next to each other. On the walls were large shelves, holding different types of instruments and devices. At the far end stood two people. One was chained to the wall, their mouth gagged, and their eyes wide with fright. The other was standing by one of the shelves, looking through the assortment of devices. Draco recognized her immediately.
The raven-haired woman, turned, holding up an odd and rather evil looking small knife.
“Now,” Fiona said, walking back towards the man chained against the wall, now looking terrified. “I believe Lady Anne wanted information. Information that you have and are willing going to give me.”
Draco took a terrified step back towards the door. He didn’t want to see this and if he was lucky, he could sneak back out and hide in his cell until he was forced to come out. His movement caught the attention of the bound man, who began screaming under his gag. Fiona turned around, her eyes settling on Draco.
“Another one? Where ever did you come from, my pretty?” She asked, her dark eyes glittering. Draco turned, his hands reaching for the doorknob.
“Not quite yet, I haven’t even begun to play with you. Accio!”
Draco was pulled away from the door, straight towards her, landing at her feet with a painful thud. Rubbing the back of his head, he looked up and scrambled away from the smirking woman.
“You look like so much fun to play with, but work first.” She raised a hand towards him. “Immobilous!”
Draco was thrown back against a wall, frozen there. She smiled evilly at him, and then turned her attention back to the chained man in front of her.
“Now. The information?”
Draco closed his eyes when the first sound of screaming came. But it didn’t help. Even under closed lids, his mind was placing every scream with every curse, and every sound of the knife swishing he heard. He heard the sound of flesh being sliced, tissue being torn, the sickening crack of bones being broken. The hysterical sobbing and screaming of the victim, and finally the information Fiona was looking for. He was shivering helplessly, biting his tongue hard, and trying not to cry out on behalf of the victim. He could taste the blood in his mouth from biting too hard. Hearing the sound of metal hitting metal, he jd atd at the sound of footsteps coming towards him.
He heard a small click, then Fiona’s voice.
“My Lady, I have the information you requested.”
“Excellent. I’m in the dungeons anyway, I’ll be there momentarily.” Came the reply. Draco heart jumped. She was coming here. She would rescue him from this hell.
Or she may just let you stay down here as punishment. The annoying voice in his head said.
He felt a hand touch his arm and he jumped again, his eyes opening of their own accord. Spotting the pile of flesh and bones that used to be a person across the room, he closed his eyes again, trying to fight the bile threatening to rise in his throat.
“Okay, my pretty. Now, it’s playtime.” Placing a hand on his chest, she smiled.
“Bondulous!”
Draco cried out as his shirt tightened across his chest, his healed ribs protesting against the intrusion again. His eyes flew open, trying to gasp for breath. Fiona smirked, canceling the curse. He gasped for breath, bracing himself for the next onslaught.
The door opened, before Fiona could begin another curse. She turned around, walking towards the door. Draco opened his eyes to see her speaking quietly with Lady Anne. alm almost cried in relief. Never had she looked more wonderful to him than she did at this moment. However he was helpless to get her attention, as every breath was still a fire in his lungs. He watched helplessly as she nodded, then turned to leave the room.
Please see me! His mind screamed out at her, willing her to hear him. Please see me!
Stopping at the door, Lady Anne turned to say one more thing to Fiona, her words halting as she spotted what was trapped against the far wall. She turned back to Fiona.
“Fiona? Why is my pet bound up against your wall?”
Fiona looked around, her eyes widening at the site of Draco. She turned back to Anne.
“That’s him? I apologize my Lady. I’ve really never looked at your pet, and I must admit, I only know him by name. I was in the middle of gathering information when I spotted him cowering inside my door. I assumed the guards brought him in, although I must admit now that I did find it er oer odd that he was alone.”
Anne walked towards him, nodding slowly. “Very well, Fiona. But take a good look at him, and make sure this mistake does not happen again.”
“Of course my Lady. Finite incandium!”
The holding spell was released, and Draco fell to the ground. Immediately, he scrambled towards Anne’s feet, clutching her leg, sobbing hysterically.
Fiona looked at him, apathetic. “I’m afraid he may have some bruised ribs. I hadn’t really started on him yet.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Anne said, looking down at the sobbing man at her feet. “I warned you about your curiosity, my pet.”
“I’m sorry, my Lady.” He rasped. “I didn’t mean to enter here, I didn’t know. Please forgive me. I’ll be good.”
‘Of course you will.” She soothed. “Come on, get up, we\'ll fix your ribs.” He stood up, holding his bruised chest, and followed her out, his head down, his other hand tightly gripping her sleeve.

He sat in his cell, his knees against his now healed chest, rocking back and forth, not really seeing anything. After he’d left Fiona’s chamber, he’d been taken to his cell where Anne had healed his ribs, then left him. He hadn’t moved since then. The door to his cell opened and he didn’t even bother to look up to see who it was. He knew. Somehow, he could sense her when she was near now. He could feel her presence; feel the magic flowing from her body. He heard her footsteps walk into the room, then stop in front of him.
“You’ve been quiet lately, my pet. Did Fiona break you?” She asked. Hed nod nothing, didn’t move.
“I think you need some fresh air.” She said. “I am planning a trip, would you like to come with me?”
He looked up at her through his hair. She wrinkled her nose.
“Not like this though. You need a shower and a change of clothing, I’d expect.” She walked away from him, stopping at the door.
“Are you coming then?”
He looked up further. She stood by the door, waiting expectantly.
“Well?”
Climbing off his bed, he stood up and followed her from the cell. She took the back ways,h hih him following, his head down. He watched the back of her feet, stopping when she stopped, climbing stairs when she did. She stopped to open a door, and he followed her in.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Looking up, he frowned. The room was large and warm. A huge poster bed sat in the middle, with a dressing table at the wall next to it.
“Where are we?” He ventured to ask softly.
“My room. We have to get you cleaned up. In here.”
He followed her through another door, squinting at the bright light. Inside was a largest bathroom he’d seen in a long time. At the end was a large sunken tub filled with bubbles.
“Off with those filthy clothes.” She told him. “And into the bath. No dawdling either, we’re leaving in a little over an hour. I’ll have fresh clothing sent up for you.”
With that, she walked out shutting the door behind her, leaving him alone. He looked around the bathroom, then peeled off the filthy clothing, and stepped into the tub, wincing at the hot water. He got used to the temperature quickly and relaxed as the hot water worked on the sore muscles in his body. Picking up the soap, he worked up lather and started cleaning a years worth of grime off of his body and hair.
Thirty minutes later he was clean and stepping out of the filthy water, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. Picking up another one, he dried himself and his hair off. Standing straight, he tossed the towel in the bin, and turned around, jumping slightly at his reflection. Frowning, he leaned forward, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was longer now, past his shoulders, his face was thinner, and paler, if such a thing was possible.
The door opened, and he turned slightly. Anne walked in with a bundle of clothing.
“Good you’inisinished. Get dressed and come out here.” She placed the clothing on the edge of the sink and giving him a once over, walked out of the room. Turning his attention he picked up the clothing she left and began to dress.
Several minutes later, he walked out of the bathroom, fully dressed, still drying his hair with a towel. She looked up as he entered the roomComeCome here, that isn’t going to do anything.”
He walked to her dressing table and sat down where she pointed. He heard a loud noise and jumped, turning around to look at her. She laughed.
“Calm down, it’s only a hair dryer; it isn’t going to hurt you. Now sit still.”
Turning around, he felt the first wave of warm air against his scalp and relaxed. It actually felt good. He felt a comb being run through his hair and relaxed even further.
See, the voice told him. Is this really so bad? Lady Anne herself is pampering you. Admit you belong to her and you could be favored like this every day.
He had to admit the voice was beginning to make sense. Too soon the sound stopped she spoke.
“Finished. Come on then, let’s go.”
He stood up, following her out of the room. They walked down the back stairs again, and towards and exit. Two men met her there and he flinched slightly. She patted his hand, and handed his a cloak.
“Put this on.”
He slid it on, raising the hood, and walked out into the sunlight for the first time in a year.

A jerk woke him up. Stretching, he sat up, looking around at the scenery. The countryside looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t remember from what. Looking a little to the left, he gasped. Looming in the distance was a large castle, and below that was a small bustling village. As they neared, he could read the sign.
Hogsmeade.
He sat back, watching the inhabitants shrink back from the carriage that drove through the village. This was the first time he’d seen first hand what Lady Anne’s rule had wrought.
The village was bustling; the inhabitants looked well fed and happy. The only indication was their worried glances cast as the carriage passed them. The village quickly faded into the distance as they rode up the countryside towards the large castle. The carriage stopped at the front entrance, and the door opened. Lady Anne stepped out, and motioned him to follow.
He stepped out of the carriage, blinking up at the sun reflecting from the castle walls. He knew he knew this place, but he couldn’t remember how. He belonged here once. Anne took his wrist, and his blinked, turning his attention to her.
“Keep your hood up at all times, understand?”
He nodded.
The four walked up to the main entrance of the castle, and through the open doors. Inside, the halls were empty. Anne stopped for a minute, smiling.
“Hogwarts. Do you know for a time I actually wanted to be a teacher here?’ She told one of the men next to her. He smiled, nodding his understanding. They walked further into the castle, towards the Great hall. Stepping inside, they were confronted by the Head Mistress rushing towards them.
“Lady Anne, I didn’t expect your arrival until later tonight.” The older woman said. Anne smiled gently.
“We arrived earlier than expected. Is it too late to feed my men, I’m afraid we’ve skipped lunch.”
“Of course.” The older woman said, turning around and leading them further into the Great Hall. Anne stopped.
“Professor McGonagall?”
The older woman turned slightly. Anne smirked.
“They can eat at the Gryffindor table.”
Beside her, one of the men snickered lightly. Head Mistress McGonagall nodded once. “Of course, my Lady.” Pulling her wand from her robe, she waved it towards the table. The table was immediately filled with different foods. Anne nodded, turning to two of the men.
“Make sure he eats. And let him.” Her voice turned hard. “And I mean let him eat. If I return and find otherwise…”
Both men nodded. “Yes, my Lady.”
She nodded. “And be nice.”
She turned back to the Head Mistress. “I believe we have something to discuss.”
Draco sat down, looking at the full plate in front of him. The other two, ignored him completely, instead taking their place at the table a bit further from him and talking among themselves. He didn’t care though; it was better than spending the day having to avoid their beatings. Picking up a fork, he briefly thought about pulling back his hood to eat, but remembered Anne’s instructions. He began to eat, the hood still up.
After he’d had his fill of food and drink, he left the table, walking around the large room, looking at everything. One of the men stopped talking to watch him, but when it became clear he wasn’t leaving the room, they went back to their conversation.
Anne had called the table they were sitting at the Gryffindor table. The name tickled at the back of his mind. He looked around the room, taking in the long rows of tables and benches. The row of tables at the head of the room, the lights, the enchanted ceiling. His gaze set upon the long row of tables and benches on the far left side. What was once a nicely polished table was now slightly worn and scarred. He walked towards it, his brows furrowing. He knew this area, this table. He’d sat here once. Reaching out, he ran his hand along the table, feeling the wood grain beneath his fingers. Walking down to the end of the row, he looked a long time at the only chair sitting there. The head of the table. Where the dominant male of the House sat. Sitting down in the chair, he smiled slightly as a sense of comfort came over him. This used to be his chair. Somehow he knew this chair belonged to him for a time. But no longer. Settling back in it, he leaned his head against the padded wood, and closed his eyes.
Visions of him sitting at that same table, in that same seat, came to his mind. Dressed in the uniform of the school, the school robes covering it. Sitting across from him, two rather large boys his age, and an attractive dark haired young lady. Him listening to the table talk about the upcoming tests and games, mindless gossip. Plots on how to get points taken away from the other three houses, especially Gryffindor.
The dark haired girl on his left, turned to speak to him, and he turned his attention to her…
“Cruatious!” Came the loud call.
He cried out as the pain hit his body, pushing away the visions, bringing him to reality. He fell out of the chair and hit the floor hard, headhead catching the side of the table on the way down.
“Leave him!” he heard the command through pain filled hearing. The pain finally stopped, and he crawled to his feet, gasping for air.
“Lady Anne, is that necessary?” He heard a voice asked urgently. “He’s hurt.”
“I will discipline my pet as I see fit, Head Mistress.” Anne snapped back. “I do not need you to educate me how to control my creature.”
He felt her hand grab the back of his robe and he scrambled up, his head bowed in front of her. He did something to make her angry with him, but he didn’t know what. And he knew from experience not to ask either. Best to either beg for forgiveness or wait for the blows to begin. Glancing up briefly, he saw the flash in her eyes a moment before he felt the blow across his face. He rocked back, his hood moving slightly. He had barely a second to brace himself before the second blow came.
The Head Mistress watched in horror as Lady Anne slapped the hooded person over and over again, the hood moved slightly and she caught a glimpse of blond hair. Her eyes widened in recognition and she started walking towards the two.
He fell to his knees after the seventh slap…or was it the eighth? He didn’t bother to wipe the blood from him mouth, knowing it would anger her more. Pulling himself to his feet, he stood again slowly, waiting for the next blow. He saw her hand, then nothing. Opening his eyes, they widened as he saw the older woman Lady Anne had been speaking to earlier, holding her arm firmly.
“Stop this!” The older woman said sternly. “I will not have this…this …barbarianism on school ground!”
Anne pulled her arm from the woman’s grip. “You no longer rule me! How dare you presume to tell me what to do?”
Draco looked back and forth between the two women, neither who were backing down. He knew how this was going to turn out. Anne raised her hand, and he stepped foreword, sliding smoothly between the two women, grasping Anne’s arm.
“Mistress, not here.” He said softly, using the title for the first time, finally accepting it. “I’ll willingly accept the rest of my punishment once we’re away from here.” He knew it would be more severe because he’d dared to speak against her and tell her what to do. But for some reason, he couldn’t see this older woman hurt. He wouldn’t allow it.
Anne looked at him, and then looked over at the other woman.
“Well, Professor, it would seem that your lessons have finally sunk in. Compassion from a Slytherin? Even I would have never thought it.”
He glanced over at the older woman, who was looking at him with a mixture of amazement and confusion. He allowed a small smile to reach his lips, and saw her smiled back kindly after a moment. She turned her attention to the smirking woman across for her.
“No. It seems to me that you and your…pet have only traded House traits. Ruthlessness from a Gryffindor? I think not.”
Draco flinched, pressing himself against Anne unconsciously. An insult like that would not go unpunished, and even he couldn’t stop her from killing this woman now.
Anne’s eyes narrowed, as she regarded her old teacher. She felt Draco press against her, and took a deep breath. It would go agaiall all her plans to kill the Head Mistress now.
Glancing towards the two men, she inclined her head and they walked towards the exit. She turned her attention back to the older woman.
“I would advise you to learn the art of tact, Head Mistress, before our next visit.” She warned. “Or the next time, I will not be so generous.”
Turning on her heels, she stalked off, snapping her fingers. Draco followed, before feeling another hand grab his arm. Turning his head, he regarded the older woman.
“What has she done to you, Mr. Malfoy?” She asked, tears in her eyes. He frowned in confusion, shaking his head.
“I must go.” He told her, touching her hand briefly, before turning back to hurry after his Mistress.