Hermione lay very still, head turned towards the east facing window where a crack in the curtains betrayed the sun's awakening.

Slowly she turned her head towards Master Draco, who was lying on his front, one arm slung lazily and possessively across her abdomen.

The act itself had been uncomfortable and businesslike. Entirely passionless. Not what she had expected for her first time at all. He had set out ground rules beforehand, the first of which was 'No emotions' and that had certainly held true.

Although she thought she had seen a flash of concern in him when he had first entered her and she had gasped at the strange pain.

She thought she might enjoy it more after a few more nights. He had told her that, unless he specified otherwise, she was to come to his bed every night from now on.

But that was the point. She wasn't supposed to enjoy it. He wasn't doing this for her pleasure; merely to satisfy his own. She was there to be used by him.

The thought occurred to her that she would have to make note of all the things he enjoyed in the bedroom and utilise them later. Otherwise he wouldn't be very pleased with her.

She had to please him or things might go back to the way they were at Malfoy Manor.

But she really should be getting up; she had work to do.

Very carefully, very gently she pushed his arm away and slipped out from under the covers and looked around for her clothes.

"What are you doing?" Draco said groggily.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Hermione," here she froze; he had said it in the same way Ron used to when he was fed up with her, "I told you, in here I'm not 'sir'. In here I'm just Draco."

"I have work to do." She said quietly.

"Let the elves do it."

"I would, if they knew what needed to be done. They rely on me for that." She bowed a little and left the room.

After that he took her every night. She found that once she was used to it she began to enjoy it more, although she never let him know. The one occasion she had reached orgasm and hadn't been able to help expressing it, he had looked annoyingly smug the next morning. After that she vowed to keep control.

In the meantime she was planning the housewarming party. The night before it, he had told her not to come to his bed, and to her vast surprise; she missed it.

The day of the party was hectic as she made all the final arrangements. Even Draco was on edge. They both knew what hung on this party's success. He had told her, with no small amount of fear, that Voldemort was going to put in an appearance.

She was there at the front door, not to welcome the guests, but to usher the slaves into the musicians alcove above the ballroom where they could watch the party in peace.

Together they collected to watch them, sipping from their bottles of Butterbeer. Tonight was a party for the slaves as well as their masters. And, as long as they weren't too loud, they too could have a little fun. Pretty soon they started to swap sob stories about their lives, carefully avoiding mentioning the souls lost to the war.

Hermione was hesitant about telling them the new turn in her enslavement, as she didn't want to make them think badly of her. But they couldn't help noticing the improved state of her dress, or her healthier weight (caused by normal sized meals), or the fact that she had her wand and had set up this little party for them.

"What is going on?" Fred pressed.

Everyone stopped their conversations to hear her answer. "The terms of my enslavement have changed somewhat."

"In what way, changed?" McGonagall asked, a hint of envy in her face.

"It's complicated. Draco gave me certain privileges, but for a price." She filled them in on the terms of her promotion. There was a general outcry of shock and surprise that she would let him do that. She hastened to quieten them.

Annoyingly Neville looked triumphant. "Told you this would happen sooner or later."

"Could you not be too smug about it please? Its demeaning and not what you think. I'm not his lover; I'm his toy."

"Do you enjoy it?"

She looked at Fred curiously, wondering where that had come from. "No. I don't think you can enjoy sex unless there's emotion involved. With him there's no passion at all."

Fred looked slightly satisfied and McGonagall drew her aside. "I can't help feeling responsible for you all and I want you to promise me that you are being careful."

"I use a birth control potion if that's what you mean."

"No, I meant your heart. I know he can be charming but I want to know your heart is safe."

"It is. I won't let him enter my heart. Ergo it won't get broken."

Her former professor gave her a look which plainly said 'I hope not.'