Bring the Mudblood slave – Mudblood slave, Mudblood slave – in the garments you were sent for it. It. It. She is an "it" now, Hermione thinks as the words thud in her head like a perverted pulse. Mudblood slave – it – displayed – she thinks over and over and over like a death sentence as she clings to Malfoy, his breath sweet on her face and his hands firm and careful on her upper arms, fingers brand-hot against her clammy skin.