Arabian Knight

"How was it?" Susan Bones asked worriedly. Hermione smiled at her.

"Don't worry, you'll do great," Hermione told her. Susan's name was called and Hermione wished her good luck at her interview. For herself, Hermione knew her own interview couldn't have gone any better than if she had planned it herself.

Walking down the stone stairs, Hermione thought how brilliantly everything in her life was going. Freshly graduated, she had taken her job search very seriously and had been rewarded with multiple interviews. Today they had made her an offer she couldn't refuse. A terrific job, a bright future, and a certain redhead with whom she was looking for a flat. Yes, she thought, smiling in the sunshine, things were definitely going well. She walked a ways down the sidewalk toward the park just savoring the feeling of satisfaction.

"Help me! Young miss, can you help me?" The voice startled Hermione and she turned slightly to see an elderly woman lying on the ground. Hermione hurried toward her.

"My cane," the woman rasped, pointing to where it had fallen just out of reach.

"Poor dear," Hermione murmured, retrieving the cane and helping the old woman to stand up. "Are you hurt?"

The woman stood, clutching Hermione's arm and leaning heavily on her as she tried to regain her balance.

"Oh, yes," the woman said momentarily. "I'm going to be just fine."

Her bony fingers dug more deeply into the flesh of Hermione's forearm. Confused, Hermione looked down and then up, back into the woman's face, and was horrified to see the gnarled old nose jostle out of position and burst forth into a swarthy face full of dark features. She tried to scream but a hand clamped firmly on her mouth and a warning voice hissed in her ear. The old woman's cackle changed with the rest of her and mellowed into the deep chuckle of a man. Hermione kicked at him, thrashing about, but it was no use. A second later the charm caused her to go limp in her assailant's arms. Then they were gone.

It was a considerable time later when Hermione awoke. Her head was pounding dreadfully and her mouth felt full of cotton. She tried to swallow, but couldn't muster enough saliva to make the effort worthwhile. She blinked, tried to sit up. There was a barred window in the door of her cell. She was lying on a cold, dirty floor in a puddle of murky water. She backed away, thinking she was going to get pneumonia from these awful conditions. If her head hadn't been throbbing so, she would have considered calling for help. She sluggishly got to her feet and dragged herself toward the miniscule window.

The corridor offered little in the way of comforting sights. She couldn't see far enough down either direction to surmise an exit, and rows of cells stretched endlessly on the other side as well. She was just wondering where in hell she was when a head popped up in the cell across from hers. It was a dark-haired woman who began shouting in a language Hermione didn't know. She reached inside her robe for her wand, only to find it missing.

Well, of course, Hermione thought with a sigh. No wand, desperately thirsty, and no idea where she was. This was a fine way for such a lovely day to turn out. Her thoughts turned to Ron. She wondered what time it was and whether or not he was missing her yet.

Voices echoed down the hallway and Hermione pressed her face against the bars, trying to see. She recognized the old woman turned man, who was short but muscular and somewhat oily in appearance. He walked alongside a taller, skinny man, who sported a mean face and a menacing set of biceps. She'd bet a galleon that he was the one who'd snuck up behind her. They stopped in front of her cell and she backed away from the door as they unlocked it.

"Well, well, well," the short man said through a thick Cockney accent. "Look who's awake. Had enough beauty rest, sweetheart?"

The two men sniggered, but Hermione ignored them, asking pointedly, "Where is my wand?"

"I suspect its being sold right this very minute," the tall guy said. "Wands go for plenty on the black market. Lots of things do."

This time they shared a louder guffawing laugh that made Hermione a bit more uneasy. Shorty grabbed her arm and hauled her out into the hallway. He pulled her along into the inner recesses of the place, women in other cells shouting things as she passed. She was frightened to hear a variety of languages, plenty of which she didn't recognize and even fewer of which she could speak. Most alarming perhaps, was that all the cells appeared to be full. These people were obviously not amateurs. This thought frightened her very much. She dreaded discovering their purpose.

They arrived at another room with a locked door. Skinny opened the door with a key and shoved her inside. The door was promptly locked again. Hermione rubbed her arm where the short guy had been pinching her. This room was considerably nicer and larger than her cell. There were other women here, too. All of them were dressed in harem garb. A dark-haired woman with green eyes approached Hermione, offering her a glass of water. Hermione drank it greedily.

"Thank you," she said when she finished the glass. The woman smiled at her.

"You are English, no?" the woman guessed.

Hermione nodded. The woman sighed. "I'm Bernice. I'm from France. Most of these women are from the local countries and I have been kept in this room with no one to talk to. I don't speak their language."

"Well," Hermione said, "I'm certainly glad you speak English, Bernice. Perhaps you could tell me what we're doing here and where exactly here is."

Bernice took her hand and led her to a large bathtub filled with fragrant bubbles. "I don't know much. I gather we are in..."

She paused, apparently searching her brain for the appropriate word. It formed on her lips along with a triumphant smile, "Arabia."

"Good Lord!" Hermione said with alarm.

"This palace is unplottable," Bernice continued. "It must be, anyway. I have been here for three months and no one has found me yet. Surely my family is looking for me, mais no?"

"Of course they are," Hermione responded sympathetically. It was not the least bit reassuring that the lovely Bernice had been missing for three months and was still stuck here.

"Take off your clothes," Bernice told Hermione abruptly as the other women in the room gathered near the tub.

This brought on a fresh wave of alarm and Hermione held her still-buttoned blouse closed tightly with her hand. Bernice almost laughed at her.

"Don't worry," Bernice said. "We are only here to clean you up and give you fresh clothing."

After more prodding and the agreement that no one would accost her while she was disrobing, Hermione reluctantly got into the bathtub. The warm water felt delicious on her skin and after her long nap in the cell, her aching muscles were thanking her for sinking in. The high peaks of bubbles smelled heavily of lavender and jasmine. It was not an unpleasant combination, she thought, as Bernice scooped up a pitcher of water and poured it over Hermione's head. Oils and perfumes were lathered into Hermione's thick hair by the women, and subsequently rinsed out again, leaving behind their balmy scents. They scrubbed her clean, paying close attention to her fingernails. When she was clean, they held up a large white towel and wrapped her in it. When she was thoroughly dried, Bernice pushed her behind a screen where a new set of clothes were hanging.

"You'll have to dress in those," Bernice said. "They'll want you to meet the men tonight."

Hermione went back to being thoroughly alarmed as she stared at the harem costume hanging on the wall. Surely this was some sort of horrible joke. One of the women jerked her wet towel away and left Hermione shivering behind the screen. Seeing that she had no choice but to dress up like a belly dancer or freeze to death, Hermione grudgingly took down the garments and began to dress. The soft emerald green silk slid smoothly over her skin. It was delightfully light to the touch and except for the rather revealing top, which bared not only her cleavage but her midriff as well, it was quite comfortable. When she stepped out from behind the screen, she caught her reflection in the floor-length gilt-edged mirror across the room.

Freshly scrubbed and dressed in the skimpy green silk, well, it brought out the golden tones in her hair to say the least. What would Ron say if he could see this costume? What would he do? That thought put a smile on her face.

Bernice pulled her back to her present hell by taking her hand and leading her to a pile of cushions in the middle of the floor. The local women were talking to each other in a language neither Bernice nor Hermione could understand. They fluttered around Hermione, combing and arranging her hair with little gold pins.

"What did you mean that I would have to meet the men tonight?" Hermione asked Bernice bluntly. She was dreading the answer, but it was best to go into whatever it was being informed rather than clueless.

"Oh," Bernice said, a sad little note in her voice. "You do not know. I think you are among the last of the women they are going to take. Their sale is on Friday."

"Sale?"

"Action?" Bernice said, feeling she wasn't being clear.

"Action?" Hermione repeated, utterly confused. "Sale? You mean auction?"

"Oui! Auction!" Bernice clapped her hands. Her joy was short-lived as she sobered and told Hermione, "They are going to sell us to the highest bidders."

Forget momentary horror, Hermione thought, plunging ahead with her conversation. "Bloody Hell! But that's ridiculous! How can they...Well, I'm not going to. We've got to get out of here."

"There's no escape," Bernice said simply, holding up the hand mirror to reflect Hermione's new hairdo.

"Like hell there isn't," Hermione said, waving the mirror aside as she jumped up. She ran to the barred window at the corner of the room. Looking down all she could see was sand for miles around. They appeared to be in the middle of the desert. She ran to the window on the opposite wall. She didn't know why it was barred; it was too tiny for even a baby to crawl through. But she could see through the thin slats and again there was the same yawning stretch of sand that wept into oblivion.

Hermione choked down the rising fear that billowed up from her stomach. She turned toward Bernice. "There must be secret passages...Hogwarts had tons!"

Bernice was shaking her head sadly. "There are armed guards everywhere. We're never allowed outside. I grow steadily paler. I have been here for months! I have searched every inch of this room. Without my wand, I've no idea how to get out of here."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. It was rather off-putting not to have her wand. She couldn't remember the last time she got out of a locked room without good old Alohomora. Maybe never.

"Well," Hermione said more briskly, "I'm Hermione Granger, and I never give up without a fight."

The door was flung open at that moment and four armed guards appeared in the doorway shouting and pointing at her.

"You'd better go," Bernice said quietly. "They're taking you upstairs to meet the bidders. My advice to you is to be nice to them; they're our only way out of here."

"Like Hell," Hermione muttered through clenched teeth as the new guards dragged her away and slammed the door in Bernice's pretty face.

The stone floor was cold under Hermione's bare feet as she tripped along, being half-supported by the guards as they hauled her down the hallway. The corridor ended in a staircase and they prodded her up the stairs, scolding her loudly in Arabic. She was half-afraid to get to the top, not knowing what to expect. They shoved her through a wooden door at the top of the stairs and trooped away again. Hermione listened to the sound of their retreating footsteps as she hovered in the doorway. The man on the largest gold chair clapped his hands and a fresh pair of sentinels grabbed her arms and pulled her roughly to the main hall, pushing her over the threshold of the exquisite pillared doorway and into a very large room with a chandelier.

Decadent was the only way to describe the enormous room in which Hermione now found herself standing. The ceiling was high and painted with scrolling romantic scenes, cherubs fluttering around unclothed women, horses racing across a windy meadow, and men feasting on succulent fruit. Her gaze swept along the gold-accented room, hundreds of candles throwing off peaks of light all around. Velvet cushioned furniture and richly covered tables stood at various intervals. A deep fire burned in the center of room. There were many other women dressed as she was, but in varying colors. There were just as many men in the room, well-dressed, arrogant, and scrutinizing the women as if they were nothing more than a pretty trinket to take home and put in their bedrooms.

The scene disgusted Hermione in ten different ways and she crossed her arms across her chest unconsciously. No way was Hermione Granger going to be sold into some sick kind of slavery. And judging from the way his highness was kissing and fondling the sobbing brunette in the corner, there was no way this slavery was going to be paid in simple scrubbing.

Hermione was shoved forward into the interior of the lovely setting. She didn't recognize a single face, not that that was any surprise at this point, and she stood, just standing in the middle of the room, not knowing at all what she should do. Her eyes swept the area, memorizing the locations of every single door or archway. There was a large set of double doors in the far left corner from which waiters emerged bearing trays of food and drink. That was a good possibility, Hermione thought. If the room was a kitchen and had more than one exit. Of course, if there was no other connections from the kitchen, running in there could prove a deadly mistake. She looked at the other doors. There were very large stained glass windows standing at either end, but even if she could have broken through the glass unharmed, she knew they were too high up to jump from and escape without a broken limb or worse. The main entrance drew her curiosity as she watched men coming and going. Of course, there were guards there as well, carrying rather nasty-looking uzis. Hm, but this was the most likely means of escape. If only she had her wand.

Someone was speaking to her. She turned to find two men dressed in long robes and turbans appraising her. Her eyes flashed indignantly, but they took no notice. One of them reached out and touched her belly. She slapped his hand away immediately and he made a noise of surprise. His highness, the man she presumed to be in charge of this operation, sauntered over and apologized to the two men. He turned to Hermione and told her in halting English that she was not to offend them.

He offered the men some seats and, giving Hermione a very forceful push, sent her sprawling into the first man's lap. She scrambled up at once. He was undaunted as he slipped his hand around to caress her bottom. Fury unrestrained caused Hermione to slap him across the face as hard as she could. Her hand stung, but that pain was instantly forgotten as a long whip lashed her in the back. She turned to see the king standing over her with a menacing glare.

"You will learn your place, slave," he intoned. "You will be wise and learn now or you will spend the night learning it with the whip...and any other means the guards find necessary."

Her back was bleeding from a single red line, but she couldn't see it. She felt the stinging and stood there, seething, trying to decide what to do. At last, realizing that at the very least she did not want to be raped and whipped all night long by unscrupulous guards, she had to submit to his highness's request. Mustering all her courage, she swallowed her pride and cast her eyes downward to the smooth marble floor under her bare toes.

"That is good," he praised her, clucking his tongue softly as if he were crooning to a little caged bird. "That is very good."

He stroked her cheek with his finger, feeling his breath on her cheek. She was shaking hard, trying desperately to control herself, reminding herself repeatedly that she did not want to be whipped. Her lungs filled and she choked down her anger, willing herself not to hyperventilate. He chuckled softly and made some comment to his friends. They both laughed and nodded in agreement with whatever lewd statement he had made. Hermione was so furious she thought she may break down and cry the way the whimpering brunette did. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction. She simply stood there, all night long, eyes to the floor as men came and went, assessing her, touching her, and a few trying to kiss her. She simply stood as still as a statue, not moving, not even when their lips seared across her mouth. She just remained still for hours until the room grew dark, the hour late, and the men retreated back to whatever place they had come from. Then she was led back to her cell with the rest of the women. The weeping brunette's tears had finally dried up, and Hermione thought it was a wonder the girl hadn't fainted from dehydration. She marched sullenly back to her cell and let them lock her in it, eyes staring stonily forward as the sound of their footsteps echoed and died. Only then did she sink slowly to the cold floor, put her face in her hands, and cry herself to sleep.

Sometime after dawn Hermione was awakened by a loud banging on her cell door followed by persistent shouting as the knocks rumbled down the hallway. She rose groggily, realizing she was insanely hungry, having not eaten anything since lunch yesterday. Her door was unlocked and she came into the hall with the other women, all rumpled from their overnight stays in the dirty cells. They were herded into the kitchen where they were put to various tasks. Hermione was supposed to be scrubbing pots, but instead kept ducking around the corner to pinch grapes out of the bowl on the island.

There was shouting and suddenly a guard appeared, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out of the kitchen and back toward the cells. She considered protesting, wondering if they intended to behead her for stealing a few grapes. Her fears were allayed momentarily when she was pushed into the dressing room and the door locked behind her again.

"Hello!" Bernice said, clapping her hands together.

"Hello," Hermione replied. "Am I here for another bath?"

"No," Bernice laughed. "I lied and told them that you were an experienced manicurist and that we needed your help."

"Oh, dear," Hermione said. "That is a rather big fib. Especially if they're going to expect me to perform muggle-style manicures without my wand."

But Bernice only laughed. "No, the other women will continue to do that. You can just help around here bringing oils or putting out the clothes. No, I just really wanted to talk to you again. It's been so long since I've had someone to talk to."

She sighed wearily. "First we iron. Then in the afternoon, they will start sending girls to us to dress."

Hermione came to the long, flat boards that stood with heated irons on them. There was a huge pile of garments which the women were expected to de-wrinkle. Hermione set to work with the others, listening to Bernice chattering away.

"So," Hermione interjected when Bernice paused for breath. "You say you've been here for three months?"

"Oui," Bernice said sadly. "For the longest time I was just chopping vegetables, until about a month ago, when they started bringing girls here for us to dress. That was when the men started coming. I know from the talk that the sale is going to be held at the end of this week."

"And are there many other English women here?" Hermione prodded.

"No, nor from France either," Bernice said. "Mostly it is local women, though I admit I have probably not seen every woman that they have brought here."

"You will," Hermione said ruefully. Bernice managed a weak smile.

"Well," Bernice went on with a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid there's only one way out of here."

"Oh?" Hermione said eagerly, thinking Bernice knew of an exit after all.

"Oui," Bernice said. "Someone must buy us or we will be kept here for the next auction. And if we don't sell then..."

Hermione shivered involuntarily at the unfinished thought. "I don't like the idea of being sold into slavery. It's disgusting."

"Well, its better than the alternative, I suppose," Bernice said miserably. Hermione had to agree.

They ironed in silence for several long minutes before lunch was brought in for them, breads and cheese and fruit all piled high on a silver tray. Hermione joined the women on the floor cushions and ate hungrily, thinking that she couldn't remember the last time she'd been so ravenous.

"I can't wait for my chance to get upstairs," Bernice said thoughtfully.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, pausing to take a drink of fruit juice.

"Oh, of course," Bernice replied. "If I can see the men, perhaps I can choose one that won't be too bad. Sort of make it a bearable acquisition."

"But how can you do that?" Hermione said. "If the men are going to buy you, how can you pick the one you want?"

Bernice looked at her slyly. "There is a clause. If a man makes love to you, he is honor bound to bid on you."

Hermione's shock was evident on her pretty face. She didn't know whether to be more disgusted or not. Her confusion came through in her next statement. "But how can you...I mean, how would they? That is..."

"There is surveillance everywhere," Bernice informed her. "Believe me, his highness would know."

"Huh," Hermione grunted, not able to come up with anything more coherent at the moment. Bernice's plan was actually beginning to sound pretty good. The main thing, after all, was to get out of this prison. Hermione doubted she'd have the mortar to go as far as Bernice would, but perhaps she was going about this thing all wrong. Perhaps in this case, the best defense was a good offense. Yes, she thought to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration, if she could just get someone to buy her, someone to take her out of this country. If she was purchased by a wizard, how long would it be before she would have the opportunity to owl someone? They couldn't watch her every minute...

"Bernice," she told her new friend. "You are positively a genius."

That night, Hermione moved among the men, looking at them with a scrutinizing eye. She rarely let a smile flit across her face. No, she was waiting specifically for a foreigner. She wanted to get out of the country, not just the palace. She drifted among them, spotting Bernice cozied up to a man with dark hair and a darker complexion. She was speaking in French to him and though he didn't seem to understand her words, he seemed quite delighted with her company. When several hours had passed and she had not ingratiated herself to any of the men, she was hauled back down to her cell so that a fresh group of women could try their wiles. Hermione briefly wondered if she should have tried harder to make company. Bernice was getting to stay up in the big, well-lit warm room drinking sweet beverages and seemingly having fun.

Of course, Hermione reminded herself stiffly once the door to her cell was locked again, this was no party and it wasn't exactly stuffy diplomats she was trying to escape. She sat in the corner of the cell, looking out of the tiny window at the silver sliver of moon she could see through the iron bars. Some of those men probably were diplomats, she thought to herself. Who else would have the kind of money and ease to travel in such a circle? She closed her eyes, thinking how infinitely tired she was. She wondered if her bone weariness would ever wear off again.

The third day Hermione was sent straight to the dressing room to help prepare more girls for the sacrifice. She was glad of Bernice's company at least. The lively brunette kept her mind off their terrible predicament by recounting stories of past lovers. If nothing else, Bernice knew what she was looking for in a man. Eventually the topic came around to Hermione and Bernice asked her, "Do you have a special gentleman?"

Hermione blushed, though she wasn't sure why. "Yes."

"Oh," Bernice sighed. "You're in love. That is so wonderful. For me, men, they come and go, but none of them ever seem to settle into my heart." Hermione was about to mention what a pity that was when the door opened and a black-haired beauty was shoved through the doorway. She had large, wide eyes that hid under a thick expanse of dark lashes. Hermione could tell she'd been crying. She and Bernice did her best to comfort the girl, though she didn't speak English either. They got her into the bathtub and Hermione poured the water over the girl's head. Suddenly, Hermione erupted in laughter.

"What?" Bernice said sternly, noticing that Hermione was pouring water on the floor. "What is so funny?"

"I was just thinking," Hermione said when she sobered a moment later. "If someone had told me a week ago that today I would be washing a naked girl I never met before I would have said that person was crazy. But here I am."

She rolled her eyes and bent down to mop up the spilled water with an extra towel. They helped the girl out of the tub and sent to the dressing screen. She stayed behind the shelter for a very long time and Bernice was finally forced to go and expel her from the changing area. She came out dressed in bright pink tones and looking even more frightened than before. Hermione handed out the combs, knowing well the hairdo ritual by now. When they were done, they all simply sat around, waiting for the guard to return.

They worked on women until nightfall, when they were left alone to tidy themselves to prepare for their own visitation upstairs. Tonight they would be in the second group. Hermione felt tension building in her shoulders as she tried not to anticipate the evening.

At last they were brought upstairs and taken into the kitchen. They were told to make themselves useful as servers and handed great trays. Bernice was carrying champagne and Hermione was given an overloaded fruit platter. They mingled among the guests, offering samples. Hermione was startled when someone pinched her butt, and being unused to being treated like a piece of meat, promptly dropped the tray, sending fruit splattering to the floor.

"Clean that up," a voice hissed in her ear. "Your serving duties are finished for the evening."

She did as she was told, not wanting to incur another whipping. She took the ruined fruit and the tray and hurried into the kitchen. She mopped the sticky fruit juice from her body and washed her hands. Giving her hair a once-over fluff, she stepped through the kitchen door and out into the main room.

She was so surprised to see him strutting in through the golden doors that she nearly forgot herself entirely. So great was the relief flooding through her at seeing a fellow Englishman that she ran across the room and launched herself into his arms, covering his face with kisses.

Draco Malfoy was only a bit surprised to find a beautiful young woman in his arms, kissing him. He was pleasantly surprised that he was so popular after only five minutes in this new place. His cousin had been right; this was going to be fun. Her lips found his and he let his eyelids close as he tasted her sweet mouth, gathering a yearning from the softness of her lips.

A need for air caused him to pull away and open his eyes to see his enchanting seductress for the first time.

Shock was the only word for it.

"Hermione?" he practically stuttered, taking a step backward. Was he hallucinating?

"Oh, my God," she said, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

Well, he thought, his head spinning, this was an interesting development. He held her close for a moment before one of the guards broke up their little meeting, speaking rapidly at them and gesturing toward the entryway.

"I think he wants us to go inside," Draco told her.

"Er...yes," Hermione said, releasing Draco and taking a few steps into the great hall. She was admittedly relieved when he waltzed along beside her in his usual lazy, arrogant manner. He looked around the place, taking it in.

"Hey, mate," his cousin said, appearing at his side. He elbowed Draco in the ribs. "Isn't this great?"

"Yeah, Marcus, great," Draco said, his gaze trailing down Hermione's back to rest at the soft divergence of her hips. He vaguely wondered where that ugly red gash had come from.

"Oh, look, his highness is beckoning us," Marcus said. Draco and his cousin hurried on, leaving Hermione behind. She wondered what the host was saying to them. She walked closer, but the whip in his idle fingers made her keep her distance. She glanced at them furtively, trying to determine whether they were talking about her. The three men laughed and after hearty handshakes were exchanged, Draco and Marcus sauntered off. Hermione, not wanting to throw herself at Draco, hung back, trying to decide whether she should chase after him or not. She was moderately shocked when she saw Bernice drape her arm around Draco and whisper something in his ear which caused him to smile. He looked up and caught Hermione watching them. His smile broadened and Hermione fought the rising heat in her cheeks as she defiantly looked away. She was a little upset with Bernice; hadn't she seen that Hermione intended Draco for herself? Or maybe she hadn't. After all, Hermione wasn't willing to believe the worst about her only friend in this awful place. No, she'd just have to wait until the next day when she and Bernice could talk alone. Then she'd explain that Draco was hers.

"What an oddly possessive thought," she muttered to herself, crossing her arms over her slight green top. The climate of the room was rather pleasant, sort of balmy with the windows open. The delicate, clinging velvet rubbed itself across her breasts causing a slight constriction. She chanced another glance at Draco, now lounging in a tall chair with Bernice in his lap. She tried not to be jealous as she turned away. She went to the window to sulk and was joined momentarily by a tall, dark man who began stroking her hair without introduction.

He was speaking to her very softly, but Hermione couldn't understand the language so she remained stock still. She was not interested in the affections of any man here save the one who could get her back to England. She tried to brush his hand away, but the man was persistent. He sat down beside her in the window seat and took her hand, kissing it. Hermione pulled her hand away with a disgusted noise. The man appeared undaunted as he moved to kiss her. Hermione tried to get up, but he lunged forward, grabbing her and pinning her beneath him as his greedy lips devoured her neck. She would have screamed if he hadn't been squashing her lungs flat. She pushed hard against him, shoving him off with the combined efforts of both arms and one of her feet. Now he was angry. He was cursing her, she could tell, as he raised his hand to slap her. Hermione closed her eyes, instinctively covering her face with her hands.

But the slap never came.

"She's with me," a cool voice said. Hermione cautiously opened one eye to find Draco casually standing over her, holding the man's arm in his hand. The man was sputtering and obviously very upset. Draco stepped between him and Hermione and repeated firmly, "She's with me."

"Is there a problem here?" his highness interrupted, flicking the crop for Hermione's benefit. She scrambled to her feet and stood behind Draco, praying under her breath.

"No," Draco said smoothly. "We seem to both have our eye on the same woman, and I was trying to convince your friend here to let me have her."

"Well," his highness said, considering the matter. The other man started to speak, but the host held up his hand to stop the flow of words. "Shall we let the lady decide her preference?"

Hermione gulped down her surprise over being given a choice, but without even the tiniest pang of doubt, she took Draco's hand in hers and laid her head on his shoulder. Draco, ever smooth, stroked her cheek briefly with his fingertip. Hermione's heart was pounding about a mile a minute as she waited for the host to say something.

At last his highness laughed and said, "Enjoy her, my pale friend."

He led the other man into the center of the room and called out for several girls to join him. Having the affections of multiple women seemed to take his mind off his wounds and soon he forgot Hermione altogether. She relaxed a bit, relieved. She looked down and was startled to find she was still holding Draco's hand. She let go and said to him, "Thank you for stopping that man."

He shrugged rather indifferently, looking into her face as if trying to decide something. Finally he drawled lazily, "That's some costume you've got there."

Hermione flushed slightly, immediately crossing her arms over her chest again. He laughed at her. "God, are you always this much of a prude? How'd you end up here anyway?"

They sat down together in the window seat and Hermione paused, unsure whether they ought to be talking in the open like this. Draco leaned in close and brushed her hair off her shoulder. He spoke softly into her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"Just speak softly," he said. "No one will listen on a lover's conversation."

Hermione wondered if it was possible to get any redder than she was now, but Draco's fingers continued to feather her hair, his grey eyes transfixed on her neck. Hermione sighed, not looking directly at him as she told the story.

"I was coming out of an interview," she said quietly, staring down at her hands. "I saw this old woman lying on the ground. She...she said she needed help."

Draco actually laughed. "That'll get you in trouble every time."

"What?" she said, stiffening slightly.

"Helping other people," he said as though the comment strained him.

"You would say that," she muttered darkly.

"Well, Hermione," he said, scooting just the smallest bit closer so that his breath warmed her earlobe, "sometimes you've got to look out for yourself." He kissed her then and she let him. His words sank in slowly and she realized that his own advice was about to be his undoing. It was therefore with very great satisfaction that Hermione hooked her arms around his neck, drew him in, and kissed him very deeply for an eternally long moment.

"Shall we go up to my room?" he whispered in her ear when they stopped for breath. Hermione's eyes snapped open and her swollen lips formed an "oh" of surprise. She scuttled away from him, suddenly frightened. He looked confused for a moment, then as if remembering who she was, he settled back and said, "What?"

"I... I didn't know you were staying here," she said. She bit her lip, thinking.

"Oh, yes," he said. "We're in the middle of nowhere. I'm here for the rest of the week along with the other gents."

Hermione exhaled heavily. "The auction."

Draco was staring at her quizzically. "Yes, the auction. You know, I've got to admit that when Marcus told me about this place, I hadn't nearly the idea how much fun it was really going to be."

He grinned slyly at her and Hermione fought down the urge to fling a biting retort his way. Instead she crossed her arms again, instantly feeling her breasts clinging entirely too close to the surface of her harem top.

"You know, you pounced on me practically the second I came through the door," he reminded her.

"I did not pounce-"

"And I haven't even seen my accommodations yet," he continued, ignoring her. "I wonder if they're quite up to my standards."

He looked boredly at his fingernails, then back at her. She had uncrossed her arms and he could see her rebellious nipples straining against the fabric. "You look interested, no matter what your mouth says."

She very nearly slapped him and only the last modicum of etiquette in her body saved her from doing it. After a long moment in which she wrestled with her temper, Hermione agreed to go to his room with him. And if she got him alone, she thought evilly, perhaps she could steal his wand and apparate the hell out of here. She licked her lips and stood up.

"Lead the way," she said, smiling pleasantly.

Draco found a steward to guide them to his room. He chivalrously offered Hermione his arm and, astonished, she took it. They trekked along, up two flights of stairs, and finally arrived at Draco's room. The servant unlocked the room and handed Draco the key. Hermione stepped across the threshold and stared in wonder at the posh room.

Of course, she thought with a grimace, after spending the last few nights in that dank cell, an army cot would have looked inviting. Still, she had to hand it to the decorator. They were several more stories up off the ground and there were no bars on these lovely tall windows. She could see the moon rising high and silver against the blue velvet backdrop. Surrounded by the tropical plants and divine furnishings, Hermione almost found this place serene. She turned back to see Draco locking the door manually.

"What, no locking spell?" she teased him as he came over to the window.

"No wands," he told her. "Had to give them up at the alcove. I guess they didn't want anybody apparating off with their merchandise before the big sale."

This disgusting thought promptly reminded Hermione of her predicament and she leaned on the window sill, her cheek propped on her hand.

"Fantastic," she grumbled.

"So," he said after a moment of silence. "Why don't you really tell me why you threw yourself at me back there?"

He was smirking incorrigibly at her and again she had to fight off the urge to snap at him. She swallowed, weighing her words before speaking. "Obviously, Draco, I was immensely relieved to see someone I recognized, even if it was you."

"Ah," he said, cocking one eyebrow at her. His blond hair seemed even paler in the moonlight as Hermione studied him.

"I suppose you think I've been fantasizing about you or something," she said tartly.

"Your words," he murmured, trailing a finger up her arm. It caused an involuntary shiver and Hermione stepped backward away from him. His eyes were locked on hers as he moved closer. He caught her around the wrist and held her; his touch was unexpectedly light and not at all confining. She wet her lips, trying to think of something to say. Words never came. Instead, Draco bent his head to hers and all conscious thought fled Hermione's brain.

She kissed him fully, looping her arms around him as he gathered her to himself. His lips were warm and gentle and vaguely salty. She let the sensations wash over her, leaning heavily on him. His mouth smiled in response and trailed down her neck, causing her to shudder in his arms. How did he know to kiss that spot just below her ear? She felt her knees weakening as the first flutter of desire uncoiled inside her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she broke the embrace awkwardly and stumbled backward toward the bed. She grabbed one of the four posters and held on tightly.

"What's wrong?" he quizzed her. Hermione only shook her head at him, her eyes wide as her mouth panted.

A slow smile spread over Draco's face in realization. Hermione felt sick as she looked at him.

"You want me," he informed her, reveling in the feeling.

"I don't," she lied. "You... you're trying to seduce me. Well, it won't work. I'm in love with Ron."

Too late she realized this was exactly the wrong thing to say. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her to the door.

"Guard!" he snarled. A soldier appeared momentarily and Draco shoved her out into the hallway. "Return her to her room."

"No, Draco, wait," she started to protest.

"I've had enough," he said, shutting the door in her face. Hermione was lugged downstairs and tossed back into the black cell she'd called home for three days now. She lay down on the cold stone floor, willing herself not to think about the soft pillows lining the headboard in Draco's suite. She squeezed her eyes shut. She only had four more days. She had to be more careful. She had to remember why she was doing this. She had to convince Draco to buy her. Somehow. She would find a way. She had to. She just couldn't let her feelings -any of them- get in the way.

It was morning when she awoke. Sounds were stirring in the hallway and she knew from the banging footsteps that she would shortly be taken to her workroom. She sat up, massaging her stiff neck before attempting to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She felt dreadfully weary for having slept so long. It must not have been really restful, she decided, seeing as how uncomfortable it was. She thought immediately of Draco's beautiful suite and wished she hadn't. He was probably having a lovely breakfast right now...

Stop it, she ordered herself. Well, tonight was going to be different. She was going to take charge of the situation. She would not spend another night in this cell, even if it meant having to share a bed with Draco Malfoy.

The door was unlocked and she was taken to the dressing room. Bernice arrived moments later and they were left with another pile of ironing. Her friend was grumbling about something and was not being her usual perky self. Hermione took up her ironing, choosing to lose herself in the task. Her thoughts turned to Ron with a pang of longing. He would be missing her now, she was sure of it. She missed him. Her heart ached when she thought of how much she wanted to be in the comfort of his arms, the tender softness of his cheek against hers, the friendly teasing that started out as banter and ended up as foreplay. She choked on a rising sob, forcing herself to focus on the half-assed ironing job she was doing. She wondered what Ron was doing at this moment. If only he or Harry had walked through the door last night. Any other Englishman besides Draco Malfoy of all people! But no, Hermione thought, neither Ron nor Harry would ever be caught dead in a place like this. They had integrity. They had honor. They were everything Draco Malfoy was not.

Draco was malicious, she reminded herself. He was selfish. And arrogant. And handsome. No, wait, where did that last one come from? Hermione battled with her head, explaining the thought away as low blood sugar and viciously attacking the flat sheets with her iron. Of course, he was handsome, there was no point denying that. It was as plain as day. His penetrating eyes, his platinum hair, that smirking face that made you want to slap that smug look off his pretty little mouth. And oh, what a mouth. Wherever he'd learned to kiss, well, he must've been a good study. Hermione felt a brief tickle in her stomach that instantly reined in her thoughts.

God, was she really fantasizing about Draco Malfoy? This had to stop immediately.

I'm in love with Ron, she told herself. And he is wonderful. I am not in love with Malfoy. I am however, planning to seduce him in order to get out of this place. Naturally there should be some crossover feelings of desire or else I won't be able to be convincing.

That was what she told herself anyway.

When they finally stopped for lunch, Hermione was so hungry, she didn't bother with her best manners and instead stuffed food into her mouth as quickly as she could. Bernice was still sulking about something. Finally, when Hermione had sated the majority of her appetite, she slowed down and opened a conversation with her friend.

"What's wrong, Bernice?" she asked.

"I saw you with that Englishman last night," Bernice said pointedly. "I know you saw him with me, but after he rescued you then you went to his room with him. I know what you did! You want him to take you back to England! You slept with him!"

Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought Bernice might've called a word that meant "tramp" in French. She hastened to reassure her friend. "Bernice, I didn't sleep with him. Yes, I went up to his room, but I did not sleep with him."

"Really?" Bernice's hard faade faded into a relieved smile. "Oh, that is so good!"

"But," Hermione cautioned her, "I am still interested in him. After all, he and I go way back."

She played with her roll, hoping she sounded persuasive. She sneaked a glance at Bernice. "Of course, we're friends, so..."

Hermione didn't know how she was going to amend that statement so she just looked around for a moment. Bernice looked at her curiously. "You would really let me have him?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, deciding on a whim to go in what she hoped was a useful direction. "Besides, his cousin is just as handsome. Perhaps even more so. And I know he's richer."

That statement didn't win any expression from Bernice. Hermione pressed on. "As long as you can take him."

Bernice's face dissolved into a look of painful curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, well, you know," Hermione toyed with her bread, trying to come up with something that sounded plausible. "He just...likes it rough."

Bernice giggled. "Oh, that's all right. I've had plenty of boyfriends like that."

"And he likes certain types of things," Hermione hurried to add.

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know if I should tell you," these big fat lies, she added silently to herself.

"No, please I must know," Bernice insisted. "You know him personally? You have been with him before?"

"Oh, um, well," Hermione stalled. Then blurted, "Yes."

"And what sorts of things does he like to do?"

Hermione was desperately trying to think of something kinky, but her brain wasn't coming up with anything good.

"Erm... uh," she hedged.

"Yes?" Bernice probed.

"He likes to bring in his friends and they all go on you at once," she supplied suddenly, saying the words the moment they entered her mind.

Bernice, to her credit, looked horrified. Hermione resisted a triumphant smile and kept her face plain.

"What do you mean?" Bernice asked in a whisper, her mouth turned into a frown.

"Well," Hermione said, trying to figure it out herself. "He and his two friends come in and they each take an orifice..."

"Mon dieux!" Bernice fairly shrieked. Hermione was relieved to see her fib was turning out so well.

"Sometimes he brings four friends and you have to use both hands as well," she added for good measure. She couldn't help but smile at her own cleverness. Bernice, still in the throes of disgust, immediately misread Hermione's grin.

"And you like that?" she asked Hermione, staring incredulously at her.

"Oh, um, well," Hermione said. "I... I..."

But she was saved from having to answer when the door was flung open and the first young lady came in to be made up. It was some time later, after they were finishing up the woman's hairdo, that Bernice turned to Hermione and announced that she'd been thinking.

"I think you're right," Bernice told her. "I think the cousin with the dark hair is much more attractive."

"Well, if you're sure," Hermione said, mentally crossing her fingers.

"Oh, yes," Bernice said. "You take the blond. I insist."

This discussion couldn't have gone better, Hermione thought gleefully. She just hoped that Bernice was her only competition; Hermione didn't have the slightest clue how to say `orifice' in Arabic.

It was already dark by the time the last girl had been done up. Bernice and Hermione hurried to ready themselves, each taking a quick turn in the tub. Hermione garnered a new outfit from the endless supply of harem garb in the closet. This time she chose sapphire blue. Bernice emerged in brilliant red and looked at Hermione.

"Perhaps we should switch," Bernice suggested. "The blue would look better with my eyes."

"Erm, okay," Hermione said. They quickly swapped outfits and moments later Hermione stood fluffing her hair before the mirror, thinking how very brazen she looked. The door opened and Bernice squealed excitedly.

"Only a few more days!" she whispered to Hermione as they were led down the hall to the staircase. "I'm going to England, you wait and see."

Hermione chuckled nervously, hoping against hope that she would be going to England by the end of the week, too. They walked into the main room to find the place filled with chattering guests. If anything, the house seemed to be getting more and more full. Men seemed to be everywhere. With a last good luck squeeze to her hand, Bernice drifted off in search of Draco's cousin Marcus. Hermione turned in a slow circle, looking around for any sign of the blond. She moved slowly among the guests, searching among the multitude of dark-haired gentlemen. She was just wondering whether they would let her go up to his room without an invitation when she spotted him across the hall.

Two different girls were draped about him as he lay back in a large pile of cushions. Hermione narrowed her eyes and headed for him purposefully.

"Hallo," she said indifferently, gazing disdainfully at the two young women. Draco removed himself lazily from the tangle of feminine arms and rose to his feet.

"Well, well, well," he said, giving her a slow, lingering once over. "You're looking positively...devilish."

Hermione instantly crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to ward off his scrutiny. He clucked his tongue softly at her and gently nudged at her elbow. "Now, that's no way to gain my favor."

Reluctantly she unfolded her arms and let them drop to her sides. The skimpy top hid nothing and the red material caused her skin to glow pink against it. The bottoms weren't much help either. The tiny waist showed curves and abdomen, leaving very little to the imagination. He circled her slowly, taking in the details, his eyes resting a moment on the fading but still-too-recent red slash across her back. He'd forgotten to ask her about that yesterday. He had time today to explore, though, and he intended to take full advantage.

"Now," he said, startling her. He watched her reaction with great amusement. "Are you always this jumpy or only around me?"

She opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again, having not been able to come up with anything suitable. Draco chuckled at her.

"I was going to ask you to fetch me some dinner. I haven't eaten yet and I'm famished. Think you can handle that?"

She nodded and he gave her a playful little slap on the bottom, sending her tripping toward the kitchen before she could think of a nasty return. Scowling, she set into her task, loading a tray with portions of several different dishes. She added a glass of champagne to the meal and carefully balanced the tray as she walked slowly back out to the main room. He had moved and it took her a few minutes to find him again.

Draco was at the window seat when she finally caught sight of him. He was with yet another dark beauty and Hermione resisted the urge to throw the tray down and stomp away. There was nothing to be gained from behaving childishly, so she simply squared her shoulders and made her way across the room holding the heavy tray tightly. Draco had the civility to dismiss the other girl seconds before Hermione arrived with the food laden tray. She slid the platter onto the cushion and sat down across from him.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, looking only at her. For some reason Hermione found his gaze unnerving.

She looked down at the plates and said, "Chicken, potatoes, dinner rolls, glazed pears, and I think chocolate mousse."

"You think chocolate mousse?" he said.

"Well, I haven't tried it, have I?" she snapped. She bit her lip then, hoping he wouldn't be too upset with her. She amended quickly by saying, "It is your dinner, after all."

"Mm," was all he said. "Well, maybe you should. Try it."

He shouldn't be affecting her this way, Hermione thought. He was getting under her skin. She forcefully told herself to get a grip.

Dipping one finger into the chocolate mousse, Hermione slowly brought it to her lips and hesitated. Good, now she had his attention. Her tongue flicked out to taste the chocolate confection. She took the finger in her mouth and sucked the mousse off with a lingering motion.

"Mmm," she moaned intentionally for him.

Draco raised one pale eyebrow at her. "Good?"

"Delicious," she replied. She dipped her finger in the mousse again and held it out to him.

"Where are your manners?" he asked, swatting her hand away. "Pudding comes last."

"Like you?" she asked. The words were out of her mouth before she'd thought about them. She felt her cheeks growing warm, so she put her finger in her mouth before any more words could betray her.

He was smiling at her now, rather broadly, leaning back against the wall and just looking at her. She removed her finger from her mouth and waited for him to say something. After a maddeningly long moment, he picked up a chunk of potato and popped it in his mouth.

Hermione watched him eat, wondering if there was anything he could do without looking arrogant. He probably even looked smug when he was making love. Hermione swallowed that thought whole and looked away from him. Maybe it was the devil red in her outfit that was causing her to have these fiendish thoughts. Tomorrow she'd be sure to switch back to green. For now, she leaned back and crossed her arms.

"I thought we talked about that," Draco drawled.

"What?" Hermione asked. She uncrossed her arms.

"Better," he commented. "Go and get me a glass of water, will you?"

She didn't argue, just got up to fetch the water. She didn't make any haste in getting back to him, preferring to dawdle in the kitchen for several minutes. By the time she returned he had finished most of his meal and was holding the cup of mousse in his hand. She wordlessly handed him the glass. He exchanged it, leaving her holding the cup of mousse as he gulped down the water.

"I think I'll take my dessert upstairs," he said casually. "Join me?"

She nodded. An invitation to his room was exactly what she'd been hoping for. Draco snapped his fingers and a girl appeared. He thrust the dirty tray at her and waved his hand dismissively.

Hermione followed Draco across the crowded room. He led her up the stairs to his room. His cloak was slung over one of the chairs, but otherwise the room looked exactly as she remembered from the night before. He locked the door again and they were alone.

Draco flopped down in an overstuffed, comfortable-looking chair and pulled at his tie. Hermione watched him strip off the material and cast it aside. She swallowed, willing herself not to tremble when he hooked his finger and gestured for her to come to him.

"I think I'll have that pudding you offered now," he drawled.

She looked down at the cup in her hand.

"I forgot the spoon," she said dully.

He smiled. "That didn't seem to be a problem earlier."

Oh, she thought. Well, obviously that little stunt had come back to haunt her. She stuck her finger in the mousse and then held it out to him. Draco closed his fingers gently around her wrist and brought her closer, lowering her hand to his lips.

His mouth was warm around her finger as he licked off the chocolate and sucked lightly on her fingertip before releasing it. She dipped it into the mousse again and leaned closer, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage. Draco pulled her down into his lap and took another fingerful of the dessert. She watched his mouth playing with her finger as his eyes bored into hers. She trembled suddenly, nearly dropping the cup, and he took it from her, setting it aside. He languidly ran his thumb along her thigh, up her belly, and across her cheek. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and brought her mouth to his.

She shifted against him, pressing down against his chest and begging her inner self to show some restraint. Yes, she reminded herself as he kissed her, yes, she wanted him to buy her. Get her back to England so she could get home to Ron. It did not mean she wanted him. But anyone in such close proximity to Draco and subjected to his affections would surely feel something. After all, he was very desirable. She forced herself to back off when she felt the first wave of want wash over her. She had to slow down, get her head clear. She wanted him to buy her, not own her.

She slid away, but he held fast to her.

"Where're you going?" he asked huskily. "Planning to run off again?"

She shook her head vehemently as she slipped out of his embrace and knelt on the floor cushion beside him. He perked up a bit. She placed her hand on his knee and began tracing soft circles on his trousers.

"Draco," she said hesitantly. "Do you... do you think..."

"You think too much," he growled suddenly. "I thoughts slaves were supposed to fulfill your every need, not spend all day thinking."

"Needs?" Oh, Lord, she didn't like where this was heading. In response he took her hand and brought it to his burgeoning passion. Her face flamed instantly, but she didn't draw away. She just needed to think of something to keep him entertained enough to keep her there. She didn't need to sleep with him either. That was only a last resort. Keeping that in mind, Hermione arranged herself between his legs and slowly opened his zipper. A soft sound escaped his throat as she took him in her mouth licked his length with her tongue. His head lolled against the back of the chair as she cautiously proceeded. He moved slightly, filling her mouth copiously. She swallowed around him, breathing slowly. Her hands snaked up his thighs and tugged his pants down further. He obliged by shifting for her. Opening his eyes, his looked down at her. She tickled his abdomen with her fingers while her mouth continued to work its magic. She thought he might have moaned and she smiled around him. He leaned back again, closing his eyes, enjoying every sensation. His fingers tangled in her hair as he urged her on.

He felt her slipping away, her hand coming up to stroke him with her supple fingers. His hand was still weaved in her hair as he whispered raggedly, "Don't stop."

"Can I stay with you here tonight?" she asked softly. Draco turned his slate eyes upon her as he replied.

"Honey, keep doing that and you can do anything you want."

She smiled and went down on him again, her fingers teasing him as her hot mouth took him in, brought him to her throat and made him erupt moaning her name. He sat quietly in the chair for a long time after that, his eyes closed, his breathing slowly returning to a normal pattern. Hermione sat on the floor beside him, her head on his knee, his fingers still stroking her hair.

The moon was hidden behind a cloud when he pulled her into his arms and carried her to his bed. She started to protest that she wasn't going to sleep with him, but he shushed her, pulling up the covers and promptly falling asleep on the soft down pillows. Hermione lay down beside him, her eyelids heavy. She couldn't fight off exhaustion anymore. She fell asleep within seconds, with no regrets over the man sharing the bed.

A knock on the door signaled morning. Hermione raised her sleepy head in time to see Draco padding toward the door. An attendant brought in a breakfast tray and set it on the table. They were left alone again.

"Well, well," Draco said, keeping one eye on her as he poured juice. "Awake?"

Hermione rubbed her face with her hands and made an attempt to sit up. "Morning."

He brought her a glass of juice and sat down on the opposite corner of the bed facing her. Her harem top had come off and she was hugging the sheets to her chest. For some reason Draco found this highly amusing.

"Shy?" he asked her.

"No," she said, thinking that if he had been Ron she would have had no qualms about sitting topless in a bed. She kept that thought to herself however, letting Draco study her.

"So what do you do here during the day?" he asked.

"I've been preparing lambs for the slaughter," she muttered grumpily. He frowned but didn't press her for details.

"What do you do during the day here?" she said, turning the question on him.

"Whatever I feel like doing," he responded, languid arrogance firmly in place.

"Yes," she said, "but I mean, what is there to do out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Camel rides, swimming, tennis, cards, gambling, darts, billiards, and of course, girls," he answered.

She snorted discourteously. "I'll bet."

She spied her red top on the floor, just out of reach. "Would you mind?"

He glanced over the edge of the bed and leaned over to retrieve the slender strip of cloth. He held it up, examining it.

"Lovely fabric," he commented.

"Yes, thanks," she said, holding out her hand.

"What would you do to get it back?"

"What?" she said, exasperated. "Nothing. You keep the bloody thing if you like it so much."

He threw the top at her and she caught it.

"Put it on," he told her.

He was sprawled across the bed, propped slightly on his elbow, watching her. Hermione knew she would have to use both hands to get it on and therefore would have to drop the sheet momentarily.

"I don't suppose you'd turn around," she said shortly.

He shook his head deliberately from side to side, smirking at her as usual.

"Fine," she snapped, letting the sheet fall away as she turned her back on him. She slid the top over her breasts and fastened it, wishing the sudden rush of cold air hadn't affected her so obviously. Draco spotted the thin red line going across her back and frowned. He'd meant to ask her about it when he first spotted it. She had turned around again and was looking at him expectantly.

"How'd you get that mark on your back?" he asked, half-dreading the answer.

Her fingers flew to her spine, remembering the welt that lay there. "His highness whipped me the first day for being insolent."

Draco made some noise, the intent of which Hermione couldn't tell. He plucked a piece of toast from the breakfast tray and offered it to her.

"Thanks," she said. They ate in relative silence, finding conversation between them rather strained given their history. Somehow at night, with the bright moon leading the way, he seemed easier to talk to. Hermione hazarded a glance at him, wondering what he was thinking about.

He wore a thoughtful expression. "Think if I paid for you today his highness would let me take you home this afternoon?"

"Really?" Oh, this was good news. He intended to buy her! Relief flooded through her as she thought of the possibility that she might get to go home today. "Go and ask!"

She hurried him through his dressing routine and soon they were out in the main hall in search of the host. They were informed that his highness never made an appearance before noon.

"Well, what shall we do to kill a few hours?" Draco asked her. "Swim? Ride? Tumble?"

"Funny," she replied tightly. "Swim would be all right."

Draco motioned for a guide to take them down to the baths. They walked along, finding a few of the pools already occupied. They were able to find a private bath for themselves. Draco was disrobing while Hermione stood biting her lip. She looked away when she realized that he was naked. At least, she tried very desperately to look away from his taut muscles as they disappeared under the steamy water.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked her, his voice echoing slightly in the small room.

"I don't have a suit," she stated. He laughed.

"Didn't stop me."

There was a long moment of silence where Hermione looked longingly at the water. It would be nice to swim for a bit. She hesitated.

"All right," he bargained finally. "If I turn round will you get over yourself and get in?"

She nodded in timid agreement. She felt like she was dancing with danger here. He treaded water, and she watched the back of his blond head as she undressed. She slipped into the water, shivering under its influence.

"How bloody long does it take you to get naked, Granger?" he said in frustration, still staring at the wall. Hermione stifled a snicker. He didn't know she was in the water yet.

She swam up behind him, ducked beneath the water and swam through his legs like an eel. He jolted backward and she came up laughing.

"Thought I was a water snake?" she teased him.

He rolled his eyes. "Pretty adolescent. Might as well have dunked my head under."

"There's still time," she said, swimming away. He growled and swam after her. With a mock shriek, Hermione sped away, swimming vigorously around the confining pool until she was too tired to keep it up. Draco caught her around the waist, holding her in his arms and nipping at her ear.