Hermione was sitting in the dungeon of Voldemort's castle, bound and gagged. She was wearing absolutely nothing, not a shred of clothing or dignity in sight. Tears streamed down her face as she lay on the cold cement floor, her ankles tied together and her hands tied behind her back. On her thigh, "mudblood" was burned into her skin.
She wasn't sure what was going to happen to her. The other members of the Order had been murdered right before her eyes, but for some reason or another, he had spared her for further punishment and humiliation. Honestly, she was just hoping that he would go ahead and kill her. She'd rather be dead than live her life the way he had forced mudbloods to live these days. She didn't want to be a sex slave to some elderly Death Eater... No, she couldn't bear the thought.
Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor, Astoria had just received an owl from the dark lord himself, and it was addressed to Draco.
"Draco," Astoria snapped, walking into his office without knocking, "I've been calling your name for hours."
She tossed the letter onto his desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "This came for you."<|im_end|>
As you should. After so many orgasms last night, you should be still screaming from the rooftops." Draco scowled a little as he glanced up at her rude interruption, before going back to finishing off the paperwork he was going over. While he didn't have to work, his father continuously told him he didn't have to, but he enjoyed working at Gringotts.
Huffing out a breath when he realized his wife wasn't going anywhere and expected him to read it with her hovering over him, he flicked a glance towards the door. "Don't you have something else to be doing?" He asked, while in the beginning he and Astoria had been well suited, and he had thought he'd grow to love her, at 23 he was over the fantasy, and so wishing he could get rid of her. But he hadn't found a way out without ruining his reputation, and despite how sick he felt over how he'd made that reputation, he wasn't about to throw it away, and render everything he'd ever done, good or bad, meaningless. While the sex was still outstanding, and sometimes the only reason he could stand to be near his wife, he was tired of his life.
Leaning back into his chair as he picked up the letter he made a show of picking it up and sliding his thumb under the seal and pulled out the letter. Reading it quickly, he stood, reaching for the dark trench coat lying on the couch. "I'm going out for the evening. Don't expect me home for dinner." He said, pausing long enough to give her a goodbye kiss and pull his jacket on, looking like everyone would expect for the Malfoy heir.
Dressed in black slacks, a charcoal gray dress shirt, with the wool coat over it. Though his hair was shorter than it had been when he was young, it was still brushing his cheek, hanging loosely in his face, the dark blond five o'clock shadow on his face making him look dashing rather than scraggly. He looked young, rich, and like a man who was used to walking into a room and having everyone stop and look at him, whether in fear or lust, it was always the question.
Apparating to Riddle Manor, he walked through the halls silently, enjoying the relative silence that greeted his appearance. Like his father, the man was a well-loved, well-treated Death Eater. Knocking lightly on the Dark Lord's door, he paused long enough to get an answer before stepping inside. "You wished to see me, my lord?" He said, tilting his head a little.<|im_end|>