Mudblood slave trade

After two weeks in her cell, Hermione had become healthier than she had been in eight years. With extra helpings of food brought by Wulf, and the pleasure of his company, Hermione found herself almost happy, except when it came to the evening….
Lucius' eyes pierced hers as his fingers dug into her neck, cutting off the air to her lungs; Hermione’s face had gone past blue and was now purple. His body crushed hers; forcing what little air she had out of her lungs.
He shuddered and rolled of the bed, picking his clothes off the floor and slipping into them. Hermione rolled side to side on the bed, gagging from lack of air. Retching, she threw up on the bed, and Lucius’s hand slapped her face.
“Look what you have done now, you filthy little witch,” he snarled, striking her again with the back of his hand. Hermione whimpered into the bedclothes, gulping for air.
“God, you sicken me,” Lucius spat. Grabbing her hair, he dragged her of the bed and pushed her to the floor as he changed the bed back into the filthy mattress. Without looking at her, he left, slamming the door so hard it rattled.
Hermione sighed with relief; wincing in pain, she touched her throat gently with the tips of her fingers. She curled up on the mattress and once again just wished she could will herself to die.
Wulf’s appearance was announced by the normal popping sound. “Good evening, Miss,” he squeaked, shuffling forward with the tray of food in one hand and Hermione’s clothes in the other.
Wulf eyed the girl as she rose to her feet. He was pleased to see that her ribs did not show as much as they used to and that her skin had a healthy glow to it. He also noted the already bruising hand marks on her throat. It pained him to know what his master was doing to this girl.
“Thank you Wulf,” said Hermione with difficulty. She took the tray from the elf and sat down on the mattress. Swallowing the food was painful and Hermione screwed up her face every time food went down her throat.
When the plate was cleaned, Wulf went into the middle of the room. “I’ll see you in the morning, Miss,” said Wulf. Hermione had already laid down on the mattress and had turned her back to him. Wulf knew she must be crying due to the shaking of her shoulders. He wished he could do something to help her.

After he had left Hermione that evening, Lucius went to his study and poured himself a glass of fire-whiskey and drank it straight down, enjoying the burning sensation as it slipped down his throat.
After the first one, he found it hard to stop. After one there were two, then three, and so on….
Feeling pretty light-headed, he rose to his feet and picked up the letter he had received earlier that day from the Ministry.
Dear Mr. Malfoy,
We have had an anonymous tip that you have been keeping illegal artefacts at your home; being that you were released from Azkaban two weeks ago for being a Death Eater; we must search your home immediately.
Hoping you are well
S. Wood

Ministry officials had come and searched his home soon afterwards. Twice he had thought they had found the secret passage down to the cells where he was keeping Hermione but thankfully they had not. After the search finished, Lucius' mood was raging so he had decided to take it out on the girl to feel he still had power over something.
Lucius balled up the paper and threw it into his study fireplace, then pointed his wand at it, making flames leap up and devour the paper.
At that moment an eagle came souring though the window, landing on the back of Lucius' desk chair. Moving forward, he removed the letter it was carrying. The eagle spread its wings and took flight out of the window it had just came through.
Unfolding the letter, Lucius recognized the handwriting straight away.
Dear Father,
I will be arriving in five minutes by Floo.
Draco
Lucius wondered what his son could want at this time of the night while he cleared the path of the fireplace.
When Draco arrived he hugged his father tightly. Lucius did not return the hug “Father. Glad to see you are well,” said Draco,
Lucius smiled, then went and sat down on his chair, studying his son as he paced back and forth.
“So have you found out the sex of the baby?” asked Lucius,
Draco stopped in front of him, his head held high.
“No, not yet…we find out tomorrow.”
“Good…and it better be a boy, Draco. We're running out of time,” said Lucius, his eyes serious. He had only agreed to let Draco marry the girl because he thought she would produce good sons, but all she had had was wretched witches.
“Speaking of boys…have you heard anything of the Boy Who Lived?” sneered Lucius, digging his nails into the wood of his desk.
“Yes, he was at the Weasley’s house a few nights ago,” said Draco, wondering why his father was asking this.
“And how is the search for his little Mudblood going?” Lucius asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“I didn’t ask…why?” said Draco, his brows knitting together.
“Oh…no reason” said Lucius, smiling a smile that told Draco he was hiding something.


Harry was dreaming that he was running down a long hallway. Velvet drapes hung down the walls and candles lit the way. The air smelled musty like a cellar, and his footsteps echoed as he ran. He could hear Hermione screaming and knew she was in great pain. Harry could feel it himself. Every time she screamed it felt like a hot knife and been plunged into his side.
He ran towards her screams, but as he got close the screams seemed to come from behind him. Changing direction, he ran back the way he came towards the screams. Again, as he drew close the screams seemed to be behind him. Changing direction again, he started to run the opposite way. As he drew close, this time Hermione screamed out his name, the pain she was suffering etched in her voice. The pain Harry felt made him fall over but instead of hitting the concrete floor, he found himself falling and nothing but darkness surrounded him as Hermione’s screams continued.
Harry awoke, sweat dripping down his face and neck, Hermione’s screams still echoing in his head.
With shaking hands he rubbed his face. silent tears ran down his cheeks. He could still feel the pain in his sides as though a knife was still there. Taking a deep breath, he swung his feet out of bed and stood up and got dressed. Placing his wand in his pocket and his glasses on his nose, he went into the bathroom.
He had been living in his flat now for two months. He hated living alone, but he couldn’t keep staying at the Burrow.
He flipped on the light, filled the sink with water and dabbed his face with a cloth. Looking in the mirror above the sink, he did not see the boy he used to know. His face had aged a great deal in the past eight years and the scar lay almost forgotten under his hair, which now reached his shoulders.
A sharp tapping sound from his bedroom made him spin around with his wand at the ready. Seeing it was only Ron’s owl, Pigwigeon, he placed his wand back in his pocket.
When he opened the window, the owl fluttered onto his bed and stuck out his leg with Ginny’s letter attached to it. After Eroll's death, Pigwigeon had become a respectful owl.
Harry untied the letter and unfolded it.
Harry,
I’m going to St Mungo’s today to find out the sex of the baby at 2pm, and I would love for you to join me, and don’t worry Draco won't be there, please send your answer back with Pigwigeon as soon as possible. Ginny X
Harry flipped over the parchment and scribbled his reply, saying he would love to join her. He toyed with the idea of asking why Draco was not going with her but decided it was best not to.
When he sealed the envelope Hedwig flew down from her perch, which was on Harry’s wardrobe, and held out her leg.
“Sorry, Hedwig…Pigwigeon has this job,” said Harry, already tying the letter to the owl's leg. Hedwig shot a dirty look at Harry and Pigwigeon and flew back up to her perch, where she ruffled her feathers and turned her back on them.
Harry took Pigwigeon to the window and watched him take flight. He stayed at the window, the breeze soothing him.
Harry looked at his bedside clock to see it was only 8:00 a.m. Leaving his bedroom, he went to the kitchen and made himself some coffee and cereal. As he ate, the post came though the letterbox.
Picking up the bunch of letters, Harry shifted though his bills and came across a letter that had been handwritten. Tearing it open, he read.
Dear Harry,
I’m writing to ask you if you could join us for Breakfast on the thirteenth of this month. We realize that this letter may not reach you until this date, and for that I’m sorry, but if you could join us at 10am that would be great.
Love Mr and Mrs Granger
Harry was surprised to get a letter from them even though he had remained in contact with them all these years.
“Breakfast with the Grangers and then hospital with Ginny. God, I must be popular,” Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes. He drained the rest of his coffee and went into his bedroom to get ready to go to the Grangers' home, the dream about Hermione lay forgotten at the back of his mind.


Arriving at the Grangers' home, Harry straightened his clothes, and then knocked on the door.
Mrs. Granger answered it and to Harry’s surprise she hugged him tightly in greeting, then led him into the living room where Mr. Granger was sitting reading the paper.
“Harry, great to see you!” said Mr. Granger with a warm smile.
“Great to see you too,” replied Harry, returning his smile.
As Harry sat down he looked around the room. The walls were plastered with Hermione’s photos, and his heart skipped a beat just looking at them.
“Would you like a drink, Harry?” asked Mrs. Granger, tearing Harry’s eyes of Hermione’s photos.
“Yes please,” said Harry politely, nodding his head.
“Which is it, tea or coffee?” asked Mrs Granger as she headed into the kitchen.
“Tea, please,” replied Harry.
When Mrs. Granger returned with the drinks, she sat down next to her husband. Both of them sat on the edge of the sofa looking nervous.
“What’s wrong?” asked Harry, who had witnessed this behaviour before and became edgy himself.
“Well, Harry, there’s a reason my husband and myself asked you to join us today,” said Mrs. Granger, taking a deep breath.
“You see, we know that you are still looking for our daughter and again we thank you, but....” She paused to look at her husband, her eyes pleading for support.
“But you must understand, it’s been eight years…and even though we don’t want to give up hope…we decided to have a funeral for her,” said Mr. Granger, jumping to his wife’s aid.
Harry’s mouth dropped open. Of all the things he thought they were going to say, this was nowhere on the list. “I don’t understand,” said Harry, even though he fully understood what they meant.
“It's been eight years…we just want a place we can go to mourn her…we miss her so much,” said Mrs. Granger, falling over her words, tears threatening to fall as they sparkled in her eyes.
Harry sat with his mouth still hanging open slightly; slowly, he closed his mouth and looked between Mr. and Mrs. Granger, hoping they were joking.
“Please don’t think less of us, Harry,” said Mrs. Granger, her voice shaky with emotion.
Harry shook his head slightly.
“I don’t,” he lied. How could they give up on their own daughter? He wasn’t willing to say that, but somehow he knew they didn’t believe him.
“We're holding the ceremony next Friday. Would you come, please?” asked Mrs. Granger, her eyes pleading.
Harry thought about it for a moment. He knew that it would mean a lot to them if he went, but he also felt that going would mean that he had given up also. “I’m sorry, but no. I couldn’t do it,” said Harry noting the disappointment on Mrs. Grangers face.
She nodded slowly, then got to her feet and went to the dresser at the far side of the room and pulled something out of a drawer.
“We were going to give you this at the funeral, but if you’re not going you might as well have it now,” she said, handing Harry something wrapped in crepe paper. Unfolding it, Harry looked at what he had been given and tears of his own started to form in his eyes.
In his hand were all the letters he had sent to Hermione since the day he met her, they were wrapped in a red bow, and on top of the pile was a picture of him and Hermione in school. He didn’t have a picture of Hermione of his own and was grateful that they had given him one.
“Thank you,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“You're welcome,” said Mr. Granger. He knew how much his daughter had cared for Harry. He had been the one to find the pile of letters tied neatly in a bow when they cleared her room and he could not throw them out.
“We truly wish you would join us,” said Mrs. Granger, her eyes still pleading; Harry shook his head from side to side.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t give up and going would feel like I have,” Harry admitted, trying to show how sorry he was with his eyes.
“Its okay, we understand,” said Mr. Granger with a strange look in his eyes.
Is it pity? Harry wondered.
Rising to his feet, he told them that he had another appointment to attend to. He placed the letters and the picture in his robe's pocket. Mr. Granger walked Harry to the door and said goodbye. As he was about to leave, Harry turned to Mr. Granger.
“I’ll never give up, you know” said Harry truthfully.
“I know you won't, son,” said Mr. Granger and Harry definitely heard pity in his voice. Turning, Harry left the house.


Ginny was already waiting outside of St. Mungo’s entrance which, of course, was concealed from muggle’s.
“Sorry I’m late, Gin,” said Harry, running up to her.
“It's okay, you’re not that late,” replied Ginny, giving Harry a warm smile.
They entered together, and went up to the receptionist's desk.
“Hi, I have an appointment. My name’s Ginny Malfoy,” said Ginny, smiling. The receptionist was an old woman who looked past a hundred and Harry wondered if she had heard Ginny at all. As if to answer him, the old woman looked down at her chart and nodded.
“Here you are…please sit over there and someone will be with you shortly,” she said. Her voice was sweet and young-sounding, which surprised Harry.
Ginny went and sat down and Harry sat beside her. Harry noticed the worry on her face and took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You okay?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes…why wouldn’t I be?” asked Ginny, sounding puzzled.
“Because you look like you would prefer to be anywhere but here,” said Harry, laughing.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve done it plenty of times,” said Ginny, trying to dance around the truth. “You’re hoping they say it’s a boy, aren’t you?” said Harry, knowing her all too well.
“Yes and no,” said Ginny, sounding lost. “I know it sounds awful but I wish I wasn’t having another baby…do you think me a bad mum?” asked Ginny, looking sad.
“No, of course not!” said Harry loudly, squeezing her hand tighter. “I think you’re a great mum…and once this one arrives, you will love it with all your heart because that’s the sort of person you are,” said Harry, trying to reassure his friend.
“I know you're right…I wouldn’t give my children up for the world,” said Ginny, thinking of her daughters that she had left with Ron.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you I got a post card of Mum and Dad,” said Ginny..
“Great! How are they?” asked Harry, glad she had cheered up a bit.
“They’re great…Mum got burned by one of Charlie’s dragons though…not too bad, mind,” explained Ginny. “They send love,” she finished.
They sat in silence for awhile, unable to think of anything to say, when Harry broke it.
“So how does this work?” he asked.
Ginny tilted her head in confusion. “Pardon?”
“Well, muggle’s go for a scan to find out the baby's sex but what do magic folk do?” asked Harry, who was interested.
“It’s simple, really. They ask a few questions like, how old are you, how long have you been pregnant, and all that, and then they put their wand to your stomach and say a spell. The end of the wand will start to glow and if it’s a pink glow, it’s a girl, and blue it’s a boy,” said Ginny. She seemed like an expert, and with how many kids she had had, who could blame her?
“If it is that simple, why cant people do it themselves?” Harry asked.
“Well, I suppose people do…but my mum told me stories about witches doing it themselves and harming their baby, themselves, or both…so I want it done properly,” said Ginny, shrugging her shoulders. Harry had ideas of what could go wrong and shuddered.
“Mrs. Malfoy?” called a young witch who had stuck her head out a door to their left.
Ginny got to her feet and gave a smile to Harry. “I wont be long…why don’t you go visit Professor Lockhart?” joked Ginny as she followed the witch into the room.
When the door closed on them Harry got to his feet and walked around the room, looking at the posters on the wall. Someone called his name and turning, he spotted Neville walking towards him.
“Hello Neville…haven’t seen you in awhile,” said Harry, grinning at his old friend.
“Yeah, I know! It's great to see you…what are you doing here? Is everyone okay?” asked Neville, suddenly looking worried.
“Don’t worry, everyone’s fine. Ginny’s just here to find out what she’s having,” explained Harry, waving his hand towards the room that Ginny had gone into.
“Oh, she’s having a baby…I’m so far behind on what’s going on outside of Hogwarts,” said Neville, who had become the new Herbology teacher there two years ago.
“Yes. She’s got five more at home,” Harry informed him and watched the surprise cross Neville’s face.
“Wow, she’s been busy!” laughed Neville in surprise.
Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“What are you doing here?” he asked politely,
“Just here to see mum and dad…did you know that they're looking for a cure for victims that have suffered extensive damage from the Cruciatus curse?” asked Neville, who looked hopeful.
“That’s fantastic Neville! I hope it works out,” said Harry enthusiastically. “So do I…but it would be weird after all these years. I mean, to them it would seem like they’ve been asleep and suddenly their son is all grown up and teaching,” said Neville, looking down, and Harry knew he was afraid of what they would say.
“They would be proud that their son grew up so well on his own,” said Harry patting him on the arm.
“Well, not on my own. My gran has always been there,” said Neville, now smiling.
“How is she, anyway?” asked Harry, who had been fond of the old woman.
“She’s fine, still holding on. She’s…” Neville was cut short as Ginny came walking over to them.
“Neville!” she cried, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. “It’s been too long…how are you?” asked Ginny when she released him.
“I’m fine, but enough about me. Look at you!” said Neville, taking a step back to look at her. Neville had long loved Ginny but had known it was not meant to be. Now looking at her, he drank in her beauty. Even with the bump, she was breathtaking.
Ginny placed a hand on her stomach and smiled. “It's going to be a boy,” said Ginny, beaming at them both.
“Draco will be so pleased,” said Harry, not hiding the sarcasm from his voice. Ginny, however, did not notice this.
The three of them left together, talking of the time they shared in school and old friends who they missed. Ginny was alight with happiness. Harry was surprised at her newfound joy and he guessed she had wanted a boy more than she had let on. Harry told them both about the Grangers holding a funeral for Hermione and Ginny wasn’t surprised to hear that he wasn’t going to go. She considered going herself, but she did not tell Harry this.


Ginny practically skipped up the path to the home she and Draco shared. Opening the door, she slipped inside quietly and tiptoed down the hall to Draco’s study.
“Sweetheart, I’m home!” she called as she knocked. A loud bang echoed from within the room. Straining her ears, she could hear a lot of movement inside. Getting suspicious, she thought of entering the room even though Draco had warned her never to do so.
“Draco!” she said loudly, knocking louder. The door opened and there stood Draco, looking flustered. Ginny looked over his shoulder into the room. Seeing nothing out of place, she frowned at him.
“What is it?” he asked not too kindly.
Ginny’s mind was racing. What had been going on in there? She wondered.
“What took you so long to answer the door?” she asked, her eyebrows still knitted together.
“Nothing,” said Draco quickly, not liking what she was implying.
Ginny, knowing not to push it, decided to drop it. “Well, I see you have forgotten that I went to find out what I was having today. Seems as though you didn’t stay this morning to join me…but no matter, Harry went with me…and if you must know, we're having a boy,” said Ginny then smiled as she saw the news dawn on Draco.
Draco’s face lit up and a warm smile crossed his face. “We're having a boy!” he said joyfully, and pulled Ginny into his arms, his hand rubbing her belly. Ginny loved him when he was like this - it wasn’t often. She only wished he would have got this excited over his daughters.
“I’m sorry I forgot,” said Draco, moving a piece of hair from her eyes.
Ginny smiled at him. “Like I said, it doesn't matter. Harry came with me.”
Draco pulled a face. “So he found time to go with you, did he? Given up on looking for his girlfriend?” he spat.
“Draco…Harry’s my friend and just because I married you I’m not going to fall out with him…and her name's Hermione,” said Ginny, getting annoyed with their silly vendetta.
“I never said I wanted you to fall out with him…but he is always my substitute,” said Draco, his face hardening.
“For God’s sake! Seven years we’ve been married. I can’t believe you’re still jealous whenever I hang out with him!” cried Ginny, moving away from him.
“I’m not jealous! I know he wouldn't do anything. He’s still looking for his dead girlfriend,” said Draco, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
“How do you know she’s dead?” asked Ginny, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh, don’t tell me you believe that she’s alive,” said Draco nastily.
“No…but I know he believes it and who are we to say differently…if you must know, her parents are holding a funeral for her this Friday and I’m going,” said Ginny matter-of-factly.
“I suppose you will be going with Wonder Boy,” Draco spat, glaring at his wife.
“No, actually. He’s not going. I was going to ask you to come with me,” said Ginny. Draco’s face dropped; he was not expecting that. “I know you never really liked her, but it would mean a lot to me,” said Ginny, who missed Hermione dearly.
Draco’s face softened and moved towards his wife and pulled her back into a hug. “I’ll go with you,” he said, running his fingers through Ginny’s hair.


Friday came quickly. Ginny had dressed in a black suit and Draco the same. Sitting at the back, Ginny wept on Draco’s shoulder. Draco patted her shoulder gently in comfort. At the front was a large picture of Hermione covered with flowers.
The vicar told them that Mrs. Granger had a few words to say. Draco watched Hermione’s mother, who in his opinion looked a lot like Hermione, walk up to stand next to Hermione’s picture.
“Thank you all for coming today,” she said, her voice strained as if she was on the verge of tears. “We are here, as you know, to pay our respects to my beautiful daughter who we lost eight years ago. Many of you know that we searched for her all these years, but now we've decided that all hope is lost,” she said, a single tear trickling down her cheek.
“Hermione was taken from us…we don’t know what happened to her or what she suffered, but we thank everyone for their help when we was looking for her…I look around now and I see so many people Hermione loved and often talked about, and I know you all miss her as much as we do. I just…I just hope….” Mrs. Granger was overcome by a flood of tears that streaked her makeup; Mr. Granger rushed to his wife’s side and helped her back to her seat.
The vicar, now back in his place, continued with the service. After it had finished, Ginny went to show her respect to the Grangers and told them that she was a friend of Hermione’s. When she told them her name was Ginny, Mrs. Granger's face lit up.
“She talked about you and your older brother often…I’m so pleased to meet you and I’m glad you came…I presume Harry told you about the service,” she said, dabbing her eyes with tissue.
“Yes…I’m sorry he didn’t come. He can be so stubborn,” said Ginny, smiling weakly.
“I understand why he didn’t come. I almost called it off myself this morning, but….” Mrs. Granger trailed off, shrugging her shoulders looking around the church.
“And is this another of Hermione's friends from school?” she asked, smiling at Draco, who stood behind Ginny.
“Oh…..Err, yes,” Ginny lied, pulling Draco forward to her side. Draco made a noise of protest but found himself face to face to Mrs. Granger.
“Hello, nice meet you. How close were you to Hermione? Maybe she mentioned your name,” said Mrs. Granger sweetly. Mr. Granger came to stand by his wife’s side.
Draco didn’t want to tell them his name but knowing Ginny would tell them if he said nothing, he went on. “Draco Malfoy,” he said apprehensively, reaching out and shaking her hand.
Mr. Granger, however, just scowled at him.
“So you’re the boy who picked on my daughter, calling her a Mudblood…whatever that’s supposed to mean,” he said nastily.
“Dear…not now…not here,” Mrs. Granger said through gritted teeth, tugging her husband back as he stepped closer to Draco.
“I know Draco said some terrible things to Hermione, but I assure you he’s a changed man,” said Ginny, defending her husband.
“Mr. Granger, I am sorry for the way I treated your daughter. I came here only to pay my respects,” said Draco, wishing he could curse the man where he stood.
Mr. Granger gave Draco a look of loathing and walked away. Draco wondered what Hermione must have said to her father to make him hate him this so much.
Mrs. Granger apologized for her husband and thanked Draco for coming, though she said it without smiling. Ginny, on the other hand got a hug and Mrs. Granger gave her home address to Ginny, making her promise to write.
Ginny had planned to go to the small reception afterwards, but after the little show Hermione's father had just put on she thought better of it.