Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

The west side wall was swallowed by a bay window that looked out onto the gardens, probably sealed with no possible way to open it. There was another door to the left of the bed, she imagined it led to a private bathroom. She figured Malfoy would want to keep her confined to her own space, her own inescapable little birdcage. He wouldn't want her to get her filthy, Mudblood paws on his nice things. Probably feared she'd infect them with some strange, completely non-existent plague with a single touch.

The furnishings looked much more expensive than anything the Order could ever own, but they probably cost nothing compared to the wealth Malfoy had accumulated. This was probably a servant's quarters; the very dregs of his wealth.

He was the sole heir to the Malfoy line, and the last remaining Malfoy. She couldn't even imagine what type of wealth he must have, or the gold and riches he must've reaped from being Voldemort's chief general; his most loyal dog.

Malfoy looked Hermione over as he stepped into the room and locked the doors behind him, an amused expression on his face. "Concocting a brilliant escape plan, are we?"

"I will find a way out of here!"

"No, you won't," he said slowly, confidently. "You're trapped here, Mudblood. Accept it."

"The Order will come for me, they're going to find me, and they're going to break this bond between us," Hermione said, taking a step towards him and tilting her head to look him in the eye. "And when they break that bond, I will be the one to kill you. Make no mistake, as soon as this vile little connection between us has been tethered, I will slit your throat with a smile on my face."

Malfoy didn't respond immediately. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, assessing her. His gaze was entirely predatory, like he might Avada her any second. Any moment.

Hermione's hand instinctually twitched towards her empty wand holster on her thigh.

Malfoy grinned when he noticed, running his tongue across his top teeth. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Golden Girl. Fearless to the very end. You are a true Gryffindor, aren't you? My own little lion cub, here to do whatever I see fit."

Hermione raised her chin defiantly. She refused to show how his words sent a chill down her spine. She narrowed her eyes instead.

Malfoy's smile grew malicious. He stepped closer, drew his wand, and dug it under her chin. "I'm going to have such fun playing with you." He was sizing her up; toying with her the way a panther torments an injured gazelle. He knew she was trapped. He knew she had no possible way of escaping. Not yet, anyway.

This was all a sick little game to him. A way to pass the time, keep him occupied until Voldemort summoned him for another mission. Another assignment, where he would probably murder her friends, and assassinate the very soldiers sent to find and rescue her.

"Romy?" he said quietly, cold eyes still on hers. He didn't lower his wand.

Less than a heartbeat later, a house-elf appeared beside him with a pop.

"Yes, Master?" Romy asked, his large green eyes glittering eagerly, ready to serve. "How can Romy be of assistance?"

"Fetch me a glass of red wine," he said, digging his wand into her skin a little more firmly before dropping it. "And an anti-magic potion."

"Of course, Sir." Romy bowed his head, and then vanished with a snap of his tiny fingers.

Malfoy and Hermione said nothing as they waited for him to return. Neither looked away, the atmosphere crackled between them as they glowered at one another. The air was hostile; thick and heavy with their disgust for one another.

I fucking hate you, she thought, hoping he might somehow be able to hear it through their unknown blood connection.

I hate you.

The pop of the elf reappearing didn't make either of them lower their gaze.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

"Here you go, sir," the elf said happily, handing the two items to his master.

Malfoy added the clear potion to the wine, eyes still locked tauntingly on Hermione's. He swirled the glass in his hand to mix the two liquids, the movement so elegant and refined it looked like something out of a black and white Hollywood film. He really was the perfect aristocrat, when he wasn't busy being a mass murderer.

He extended his hand, presenting the glass to her. "Drink," he said; a command, not a request.

Hermione snorted and took a step back. "You're barking mad if you think I'm drinking anything you give me. Get that thing away from me, heaven knows what you've added to it!"

Flashes of the girls she'd unchained from beds over the years swam through Hermione's head like a Rolodex of horror. Blood-soaked sheets when she'd failed to rescue Lavender Brown in time. Parvati Patil's wrists, cut to the bone with the metal cuffs that she'd fought against.

Hermione knew both of these girls well. She knew they wouldn't have surrendered willingly when they were sold into slavery. They would've fought their captors with all their strength, and the only thing that would've dulled that fight, would've been potions the Death Eaters had forced down their throats.

If Malfoy wanted Hermione bound to this bed, he was going to have one hell of a fight on his hands. She would make sure of it.

Malfoy stared at her for a long minute, trying to work out what she was thinking. The moment he understood, he burst into cruel laughter. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, you really think I'm going to rape you?! Make no mistake, I wouldn't touch you if my life depended on it."

Hermione refused to lower her accusatory gaze. Or relax at his words. She didn't trust him in the slightest. Malfoy was one of the only two Demon Masks in Voldemort's army. The list of sins he'd committed to attain that title must've stretched as high as the Astronomy Tower. He'd sold his soul to the devil in exchange for a pair of horns. And if he could do all that, the title of rapist probably wasn't above him either.

"Do you think I'm an idiot Granger?" Draco asked, stepping closer to her. "If anyone is adept at wandless magic, it's you." He took another step. "I'm sure you've thought of a thousand contingency plans in case you were caught without a wand, being the prized know it all you are." And another.