AN: Now I never respond to reviews, because personally, as a reader I hate when there is a huge block of responses at the top, (actually I take it as a sign of unprofessionalism) but I'm going to break my own rule this chapter.

To all of my positive reviewers and story favoriters, THANK YOU. I notice every single one, and each one pushes me to get the next chapter out. I promise you, I've been trying to get this one out for a long time, but trying to graduate college, and some writers block has had me very stalled. ANYWAYS, please please please bear with me, keep reviewing, I really appreciate it.

I've only had a couple of negative reviews, but they all have said the same sort of thing, so I will finally respond to those reviews. A few people are VERY unhappy with the OOC-ness of some of my characters. First, I am aware of what I am doing. I know that Harry and Ron are not evil and wouldn't drop Hermione like that, BUT to further my plotline, I had to get them out of the picture, and they're characteristic badgering, hero selves would never let that happen. Also, Blaise Zabini has gotten some complaints about me making him too evil. My explanation there is simple. The actual book has very little about him as a character, to the point that some fanfic authors even mistakenly thought he was a she for a while. So I am using my own judgment on how evil or not evil to write him, and in this case, I chose very evil. Then most importantly, Hermione. She most certainly has been written to appear "idiotic" and "weak" because she is going through a terrible situation with no control over her own life. She experiences pain when she thinks of betrayal. That would condition even the strongest mind into submission after a time (see Wikipedia for Operant Conditioning or B.F. Skinner). Maybe I wrote that conditioning too fast, but chapter after chapter of her in constant pain due to her thoughts would be tedious. NOT TO MENTION, who said anything about her staying that way ;)

Now enough of my rambles! Finally another chapter! Please read and review

Chapter 9

Lucius finished laying all of the spells without glancing in her direction a single time. No words were spoken to her. The occasional heavy sighs were the only reminder of his disdain for having a filthy mudblood in his home. He didn't stay a moment longer than necessary. Moments after the final spell was cast his robes were swishing out of sight beyond the door. Quietly the door shut on its own and she was left alone.

Hermione looked around at her surroundings for the first time unattended. The floors were a dark mahogany. The walls a white color with off-white, shimmering couples in ballroom regalia waltzing slowly from wall to wall. Occasionally one couple would do a more elaborate move. It was quite entrancing to watch, almost making her feel less alone.

Moving her attentions to the furnishings of her prison, the wardrobe located beside the door to the bathroom, though massive, was completely empty. Across the room from the bathroom door was the four-poster bed. It's sheets were such a dark blue they almost appeared to be black except for the slight sheen that the silk gave off under the dim lighting. Of course the Malfoy's were wealthy enough to have silken sheets even in their worst rooms. She couldn't bring herself to actually sit on the bed itself and rumple the pristine bedcovers, so she slowly sat on the trunk at the end of the bed to absentmindedly watch the dancers as she thought through her predicament.

As she had already noted, the Death Eaters were much more detail oriented than the ragtag group that she was used to following. This was even more disheartening, not that she had much hope left anyways. What was worse, knowing how close to perfectionism this cult appeared to be, she knew that her orders would be too exact for her to be able to disobey. She would be forced to help them destroy the people she loved. To fight against her very own people, all the Mudbloods in the world. She knew what it would do to the cause to see one of Harry Potter's inner circle switch sides and fighting alongside the enemy. Especially with everyone knowing she was the brain behind the cause. There would be confusion, possibly some distrust and warring within the Order. It would be the end of it all.

And now she understood why the Death Eaters had put so many spells in place to prevent her from killing herself. Voldemort knew she was smart enough to reach this conclusion. That her death would be better for the Order. It would prevent them from using her to destroy the Order from the inside out and might even cause a resurgence of strength if she were to be viewed as a martyr for the cause. What the Death Eater's hadn't realized is that they didn't need to worry. Her own sense of self-preservation vastly outweighed her sense of saintly morality. She was no Harry Potter, willing to throw herself headfirst into deadly situations for the sake of everyone else. Sure if there was a logical path to victory, she would try her hardest, like she did in first year with the Sorcerer's Stone, and many other times since. But she was no martyr by any means.

She would just have to think of another way out.

After arriving back in his dormitory, Draco let out a long sigh. In a very undignified manner, he fell backwards onto his four-poster bed. He could hardly believe that he had gotten through the meeting unscathed. Being the center of attention at a Death Eater meeting was not something to be excited about. It usually meant torture, or worse.

Gazing at the spot that had been Granger's bed. He wondered what they would do to her now that she was kept in the Manor. He was the one controlling her. What did they gain by taking her from him? Granger belonged to him. It wasn't right. He had placed the spell. He should get to do with her as he pleased. Who was the Dark Lord to take her away?!

At that final thought, Draco shot up in his bed. That thought was too dangerous. Deadly even. It could get his entire family killed. The Dark Lord could take what he wanted. Do what he wanted. But what had happened to the power of the Malfoy name? Why were they all bowing to a single man? Why were they bowing to anyone at all? They were one of the oldest, purest bloodlines left. Not to mention the sheer wealth behind the Malfoy name. He shook his head to clear the confusion this line of questioning had brought upon him. No, the Malfoys would be behind the Dark Lord, ensuring that purebloods stayed in power. But at what cost?

Hermione had been in that room for two weeks. Two full weeks and nothing had happened. An ancient house elf named Gemini popped in every few hours to give her food during the day. Food that was "rubbish" and "a disgrace to be served in such an honorable home", though to Hermione, it was a veritable feast each and every meal. There were foods that she had never even dreamed of, and Hermione just could not believe that this was "rubbish". If this food was rubbish, what delicacies were the family eating?

Today when Gemini popped in for the first time, the exchange began as per normal.

"G'day miss, I've got your breakfast here. Oh but where is the fork?"

"Good morning Gemini. It's right there next to the plate. Thank you for the food. I wish you didn't have to bring it all this way yourself."

"Miss, it is my duty to serve the Malfoys, and they have asked me to ensure your survival in this room. Oh but how awful this room is. The colors are all wrong. And this trunk, completely crooked." The house elf gave it a kick, effectively misaligning it from its straight position at the end of the bed.

Hermione eyed the elderly house elf with bemusement. "And how lucky I am. How long have I survived so far?"

"Fourteen days, 9 hours, 37 minutes miss."

"Any word on when I'll be let out?" This question was asked daily, though there was never any hint at an answer. This time, Gemini surprised her.

"Oh yes. Master Malfoy told me to inform you that your presence will be required this evening. I'd meant to tell you straight away, but I had almost forgotten your tea in the kettle. Breakfast is not breakfast without tea, you see ducky-"

"This evening!"

"Oh yes, yes, right. This evening, there will be another meeting of all of the most honorable families down in the formal dining hall. The Dark Lord wishes to use you as entertainment, so I am to get you dressed and ready. It's unsavory, using a young lady as entertainment. Turning you into a right scarlet woman, but I am sure there is a reason." Suddenly Gemini looked her straight in the eye. "Are you a slag already? That would explain it."

"No!" Hermione cried adamantly, while terror at the evening before her began to well up in her stomach. She wished she hadn't asked. Now all day she would have to sit and imagine the tortures they would instill upon her. There was nothing but evil thoughts to keep her company. But! But maybe a change would allow her to learn her window of opportunity. What that opportunity was, she had no idea. She knew she couldn't betray Draco, but perhaps there was something else she could do, some way to stop the Death Eaters from using her to destroy the Order. There had to be something, she just couldn't figure it out yet.

Looking up, she saw that Gemini had left the tray of food and had disappeared. She must have spaced out for longer than she had realized. Absent mindedly, she began to nibble on some of the food.

There had been one positive aspect of becoming a prisoner – other than the step up in the luxury of her lifestyle. She had only time to think. It had allowed her to come to terms with her rape and her enslavement. Shaky as the wall was, she was no longer teetering at the edge of an emotional cliff. Not that she had regained any hope in her situation. At this moment she could see no way out. But she was able to marginally handle the situation. The thoughts of tonight were pushing at the cracks in that wall though, and throughout that day - arguably the longest day of Hermione's life – all she could see were evil eyes, all she could feel were hands forcing her legs apart, all she could taste was her own blood. Deep breaths only went so far toward keeping her calm, because there was no plan. There was no way to escape whatever was going to happen to her tonight. She could do nothing. Or maybe…maybe absence was doing something. She vaguely remembered a book she had read in which the heroine had overcome torture by locking herself away within her mind. Maybe she could separate herself from the pain. If only she could learn how to do that.

Gemini's evening arrival was both all too soon and agonizingly delayed. There was an entirely too small pile of clothes in Gemini's arms, and to her humiliation, Hermione was forced to strip down and put on these garments. Almost humorously, the underwear and bra were in Slytherin colors, strictly lace, and completely see-through. The bra barely contained her breasts. In fact, she was fairly certain that the bra wouldn't survive long with the strain her breasts put on the small patch of material. Next came another entirely lace garment. This however was a black slip. It covered very little, due to the transparency of the lace, but it was a small comfort. Finally there came a dress. A gorgeous dress surprisingly. In truth it also covered very little, with a severe v-cut down the front showing half of each breast, a length that barely skimmed her knee on one side and barely covered her butt on the other. When all of the clothing was in place, Gemini snapped her fingers and Hermione's hair was suddenly smoothed from its traditional mess and delicately curled, and she could feel that makeup had been applied.

Glancing into a mirror and seeing the elegance of her attire, even if it did make her look a bit like a tart, was quite confusing. This was certainly not what she had expected. Not in the least. And in a way, it made her even more uneasy for what was going to happen tonight. Without a word, Gemini moved her toward the door, which glided open for the first time in two weeks.