Mudblood slave trade

After the funeral, Ginny went to pick up the children from Ron as Draco went to his father's to break the news.
As Draco entered Malfoy Manor, Wulf, his father’s house elf, came and bowed low at his feet.
“Where is my father?” he asked, not even glancing towards the elf.
“Master is in his study, young master. Should I tell him you’re here?” asked Wulf, still in the bowing position.
“No need. I will go myself,” said Draco, taking off his cloak and throwing it over the elf. Wulf untangled himself quickly and popped out of the room with it.
Draco took the stairs two at a time up to his father's study and knocked on the door twice.
“Come in,” came Lucius’s drawl. Draco entered; Lucius was behind his desk with a pile of parchment in front of him.
“Good evening, Father,” said Draco, slightly bowing his head. He walked to his father’s desk and sat down.
“So what brings you here?” asked Lucius, glancing at his clock on the wall.
“I thought it would please you to know that Ginny and I are expecting a boy,” said Draco smugly, knowing how much this would please his father.
“That’s great news, Draco, but you know one son is not enough,” said Lucius and Draco’s smile turned into a frown.
“I thought you would be more pleased about this, Father,” said Draco, who felt slightly hurt that his father did not care as much as he thought he would.
“I am pleased…but it’s merely not enough,” said Lucius, swinging his chair back and forth.
“Father,” said Draco quietly, looking down at his hands, “I don’t think Ginny will consent to more children.”
He looked up to see his father's reaction and was surprised to see his face calm and unfazed. “There are many other pureblood woman who will allow you to take them to your bed,” said Lucius.
Draco’s mouth dropped. “Are you suggesting I leave my wife?” he asked, not hiding his shock.
“No, of course not, Draco…I suggest you impregnate more women without your wife’s knowledge. Got to keep up appearances, now,” said Lucius slyly, a smirk upon his face.
“Father, I don’t think I can do that,” protested Draco, shaking his head side to side. “When you were at my home the other day when she came home, she already thought I was cheating on her. How would I get away with it for real?” cried Draco.
“You are my son and you will do as you’re told. If she finds out, then good riddance!” cried Lucius, standing abruptly to his feet and making Draco jump.
“If you hadn’t have married that wench we wouldn’t be in this situation. You let love cloud your judgment.Don’t forget what our plans are, Draco,” said Lucius, his eyes boring into Draco’s, daring him to say no again.
“No, Father, I haven’t forgotten…I’m sorry for contradicting you,” said Draco, hoping to calm his father.
Lucius sank back into his chair and studied his son for the first time since he arrived. “Where have you been today?” he asked, gesturing towards Draco’s suit.
“A funeral,” said Draco promptly.
“Whose?” asked Lucius, not really caring. He lowered his head back over his parchments.
“Hermione Granger’s” said Draco.
Lucius’s head snapped up, his attention captured. “Oh, the muggles finally gave up hope?” he asked with a sneer.
“Yes, I suppose they have,” said Draco, wondering why his father was so interested.
“Did they cry for their loss?” he asked, smirking.
“Yes,” answered Draco, his eyebrows knitting.
“And did the boy go to this little gathering?” he asked.
Draco knew his father meant Harry. “No,” he said, his eyebrows knitting more than ever.
Lucius had a dreamy look upon his face for a moment, then glanced again at his clock. “I have business to attend to, Draco,” he said, waving his son out the door.
Draco got to his feet, giving his father one more confused look he headed for the door. “Goodbye, Father,” he said, closing the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione sat naked on the mattress, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. She knew Lucius was late and hoped he would not show.
Not being that lucky, she heard loud footsteps approaching her cell. Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet just as Lucius stepped into the room.
Hermione noticed that he was smiling and was carrying a small bag, and fear grew in her chest. Lucius approached her and she bowed low, her heart pounding.
“How are we today?” he asked almost sweetly.
Hermione’s fear grew. “Fine, milord,” she whispered, her eyes quickly darting towards the bag. Lucius noticed this and chuckled.
“Don’t worry, you will find out soon enough,” he purred, stroking her face in an almost loving way. Hermione shuddered; Lucius also noticed this and grabbed her chin roughly. “Tell me, do you miss your parents?” he asked.
The question startled her and for a moment she just stared at him. “Yes…milord” she said timidly, growing scared for her parents.
“Thought you would say that,” he said gently, nodding his head.
“Go lay down,” he said, letting go of her chin. Drawing out his wand, he made the bed appear. Hermione walked towards the bed, her face twisted with confusion, and laid down upon it.
Lucius undressed, threw his clothes into the corner, and dragged the bag over to the bed but did not open it; he sat on the bed and took Hermione's breast in one hand and squeezed it gently, then rubbed.
Hermione’s breathing quickened, and she found herself almost enjoying the softness of his touch. She berated herself quickly and stared at the ceiling.
Lucius's lips curled into a smile and lowered his head down to hers and kissed her gently, his hand still teasing her breast, Hermione unknowingly sighed into his mouth.
“Are you enjoying this?” Lucius asked while kissing her, Hermione, not knowing how to answer, remained silent. Lucius laughed into her mouth, his hand traveling down towards her pelvis. Hermione's body went rigid as he awoke feelings she had never felt before. Shamefully, a small moan escaped her lips as he tickled around her thighs.
“Are you picturing your boyfriend as I do this?” asked Lucius suddenly. Hermione turned her eyes to him, and he was no longer smiling but watching her intently.
“What?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“Are you picturing Potter as I pleasure you?” he asked seriously. Hermione remained silent.
Lucius swung his leg over her and sat atop her, pulling her arms above her head where he pinned them down. His nails dug into the soft flesh on her wrist, making her gasp in pain, “Yes, that’s what you're used to…pain and violation…it’s all you have ever known and ever will know,” sneered Lucius, his mouth so close to her cheek his breath tickled it. “Now everyone has given up on you,” he said, his lips now brushing her cheek slightly.
Hermione looked down at him in surprise.
“Oh…but how stupid of me. You don’t know,” said Lucius, toying with his words. Moving quickly, he spread her legs and forced himself into her. Hermione gasped in surprise, her eyes wide.
“Naughty girl…you’re not supposed to enjoy yourself” he purred, moving inside her slowly, his hands still pinning her arms above her head. Hermione bit into her lip to stop from crying out and closed her eyes tightly.
Lucius laughed louder. “Your parents think you dead” he said suddenly, making her eyes fly open. “Yes, they had a funeral today for you…your pitiful muggle mother cried over your picture, taking you for dead. She’s probably crying right now while you enjoy me fucking you,” he said, panting as he started to move faster.
“And your pathetic boyfriend didn’t even turn up…he must have given up on you long before now,” he lied, knowing Harry must still be searching for her. He loved the look of shock in her eyes and moaned more in pleasure over that than the pleasure he was getting from what he was doing to her body.
“Everyone wants to forget you, Hermione. No one cares anymore,” he said, and was pleased to see tears slipping down her cheeks. His nails dug further into her flesh as his climax came. Throwing his head back, he moaned one last time. Releasing her arms, he rolled off her.
Hermione remained where she was, her face pale and her eyes staring at the ceiling. Her mind was racing with what she had learned. She had a funeral today. She was officially dead and Harry hadn’t even bothered showing up. She was surprised by how much this upset her, but found it hard to stop crying until a sharp pain in her leg made her bolt upright.
Lucius's hands forced her back down to the bed. In his hand was a large knife that he had drawn across the inside of her leg. Lucius was grinning at her maliciously as he drew the knife once more across her skin. Hermione hissed in pain; she knew now what had been in the bag.
After Lucius tired of marking her skin, he pulled her to her feet, blood seeped freely down to her feet. Hermione waited for him to change the bed back to her mattress and leave, but found herself been thrown to the wall with force. Her head made a loud thud as it struck stone Lucius was on her biting into her neck, drawing blood.
“I plan to become stronger than Voldemort ever was, and with my son shagging your friend Ginny, I will have an army of his pureblood sons at my side. I guarantee you your precious Potter will be the first to be killed. If you still live, I will bring you his glasses, smeared with his blood, for you to mourn over,” he said, sniggering in her ear. Pulling her back, he turned her to the wall and slammed her into it again, making her jaw rattle.
Hermione screamed as her face was pushed into the wall. He began to assault her body for a second time, slapping her every few minutes, liking the sound his hand made against her skin. When he finished, Hermione slid to the floor, barely conscious. Pain ripped though her body and her head was drowsy.
Lucius pulled on his clothes, transformed the bed back into the mattress, and left. Hermione sobbed on the floor, blood oozing from her many cuts.
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Wulf paced back and forth in his master's study, waiting for him to return from Hermione’s cell so he could return her clothes. He glanced at the clock and noticed he had been in there nearly an hour longer than normal. He worried for Hermione.
Finally he heard his master’s footsteps approaching and stopped pacing. Lucius came into the room and threw a bag into his chair, and Wulf stepped forward.
“Master…should I take the girl's clothes down to her now?” he asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously. He dared not use her real name in front of his master.
“Yes, and take down some rags and water and clean her up,” he ordered, pouring himself a glass of firewiskey. Wulf grew fearful at his words and left without another word.
He popped down to her cell with her clean clothes a bucket of warm water and some cloths. Filling the room with light, he spotted Hermione and gasped. Hermione had sat herself up and now was slumped against the wall, her legs covered with blood. Her face was bruised and had some small cuts, her lips were split in two places and her eyes were swollen and bruised.
“Oh miss!” cried Wulf, rushing forward and taking her hand. Hermione looked straight ahead as if the elf wasn't even there. Wulf waved a hand in front of her face but still she showed nothing. Giving up, he went and wet a cloth and started to clean her up. Her legs and face clean, he moved down her arms to her wrists, where he spotted vicious fingernail marks and wondered what his master had done to make the girl catatonic. Not once had her eyes moved or blinked.
“I’ll bring you food now, Miss,” he said, hoping this would get her attention, but to no avail. Popping out of the room with the bucket and the blood stained rags, he went for her food.
Returning shortly, he found Hermione where he had left her. “Miss, you must eat,” he pleaded, patting the side of her cheek to try and wake her.
Sighing in defeat, he popped out of the room and left the food in front of her. As soon as he popped out of the room, Hermione's eyes slid to the plate. Before her was a juicy steak and lots of vegetables. Beside her plate was a fork and a steak knife. Reaching out, she picked up the knife and slipped it behind her back. Returning her hands to where they had been, she went back to staring at the wall.
Wulf returned ten minutes later and found the plate untouched. His heart ached for her as he picked up the plate. Taking one last pitiful look at her, he left the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione stared at her reflection in the knife, noting how long her hair had grown and how much her face had changed underneath the bruising. She stared at her wrists and watched the bones beneath move when she clenched her hands; her vein showed clearly through her clear skin and she licked her lips when they became dry. Taking the knife, she pressed it into her skin. Sharp pain protested in her wrist, but no pain showed on her face she drew the knife quickly upwards. Blood poured instantly from the wound she had created. Holding her arm up, she watched the blood snake down her arm towards her elbow. Moving the knife into her other hand, she placed the knife to the other wrist and the blood changed direction and dripped over the knife as she pressed it into her wrist.
“Don’t do it, Miss!” squeaked Wulf. Hermione had been so wrapped up in what she was doing that she hadn't heard him pop back in.
“Please, Miss!” Wulf pleaded, afraid to get too close to her. He had noticed the knife was missing as he did the dishes and knew what she must have done and rushed back down to her cell, praying he wasn't too late. Hermione looked at him, her vision becoming blurry from the loss of blood.
“I want to die,” she whispered, still looking at the elf. Tears formed in her eyes, the knife still placed to her wrist.
“Please, miss…tell me what’s wrong,” he said, taking a brave step forward
Hermione began to laugh hysterically; tears of mirth flowed down her face. “What’s wrong….what’s wrong? My parents think me dead, so why shouldn’t I be?” she cried, still laughing. The sound scared Wulf to the core of his being. “While they're at home crying over me, Lucius took my body and, Merlin forbid, I had enjoyed the things he started doing to me!” she cried though gritted teeth, slamming her head back into the wall with a thud. Wulf clenched his teeth at the sound but Hermione didn’t even flinch.
“Harry didn’t even turn up…probably married and too happy to drag up the past,” she said bitterly, the thought paining her.
Wulf realized she was more talking to herself than to him and took another step forward.
Hermione started to rock slightly back and forth, her arm now completely red with her blood as it flowed from her wrist; her eyes were starting to droop.
“Miss, please let me attended to you,” Wulf begged.
Hermione scoffed deep in her throat and closed her eyes. “I don’t deserve to live…I’m a whore, I’m his whore and always will be, there’s no hope” she mumbled, her head falling for a moment to her chest.
Wulf, in panic, thought of things to say. “I’ll get you out, miss,” he said quickly.
Hermione opened one eye and looked at the elf. “You're lying…you would never betray your master,” she said, her eye closing once again.
“No, miss, I tell you the truth! Let me help you and we shall plan your escape together, I swear it!” he said desperately, not wanting the girl he had become so fond of to die in front of him.
Hermione thought for a moment she could feel death descending on her and this scared her more than she thought it would. Slowly, she nodded her head. Wulf rushed forward and took the knife gently. He used his elf magic to seal her wound.
Hermione felt herself perk up a bit and allowed Wulf to lead her to the mattress, where he laid her down and covered her with the sheet.
“I will come back in the morning, miss, and we can start planning,” he said. The thought of helping her escape frightened him, but a promise was a promise.
Hermione nodded and found she was already falling to sleep. Wulf tiptoed to the center of the room and, removing the lights, he left Hermione to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry awoke in the middle of the night, sweat yet again running down his face as the same dream about Hermione's pain and screaming had plagued his dreams. He wiped the sweat with his hand and looked at his bedside table, where he had placed Hermione's picture in a frame. For a moment, he saw her face with cuts and bruises upon it. Quickly, he drew his wand from under his pillow.
“Lumos,” he said, and the tip of his wand grew bright. Looking at Hermione's picture again, he only saw her face as it was supposed to be. Shaking his head, he rubbed his hand over his eyes. He went over to a set of drawers at the other side of his room, pulled out a bunch of papers and parchment, and took them back to his bed were he spread them out. The papers were old copies of the Daily Prophet from the day he had defeated Voldemort, and the parchments were his own notes and a list of all know Death Eaters. None had been any use, yet he found himself often looking though them, hoping he had missed something the last time.
He pulled out his quill and started to scribble down notes, including the odd dreams that plagued him most nights. He then found himself looking down the long list of Death Eaters, the quill in his mouth. His green eyes searched the page over and over, hoping that something would just jump out at him. A bead of ink formed at the end of his quill and splashed onto the parchment.
“Damn it,” said Harry, grabbing a fist full of his night clothes and wiping it, leaving a large smudge of ink though Lucius Malfoy’s name. Harry looked at his quill and flicked it several times. Not a drop fell from its tip; Harry pulled a face at it.
“Must need a new one,” he said out loud to himself. Then, deciding to call it a night, he packed away the papers and parchment and climbed back into bed. Picking up Hermione's picture, he ran his thumbs over it.
“Where are you?” he whispered to it before placing it back in its place and going back to sleep.