This story is the brain child of reading one of my favorite stories late at night & wishing it was a little more elaborate!!!! So yeah, anything you recognize, probably doesn't belong to me!!!!
Chapter 1 - Meeting Master
Ginny Weasley rocked back and forth in the cold, her arms closed around her self, trying to shut out the screams she would hear, echoing to her ears from other parts of the prison. She was no longer sure how many days, or maybe even weeks, she had been down there. No light reached her or any of the other prisoners, and they were only fed sporadically, when they were on the absolute verge of collapse.
A dry, painful coughing came from the person next to her, and she shifted as much as her magically binding chains would allow. "Luna? You okay?"
"I'm fine," was the reply, followed by more coughs.
Within minutes, the coughs died down and were replaced by Luna's raspy, but even breathing.
"We can't let them take her, Ginny," Dean Thomas's voice filled the narrow room. "She's going to die out there."
"I know," Ginny whispered, fighting back her own sobs. "I know."
Many times since she had been there, a Death Eater would come into their room, grab Luna by the hair and drag her out, singing, "Time to find out where Longbottom is."
Luna and Neville had married shortly after he had finished his Auror training, and next to Harry, Neville was the best Auror of their day. Luna was tortured, in hopes that she would reveal his whereabouts. But she didn't speak. She barely even spoke to Ginny or Dean or Parvait, who were in their cell also. The only full sentence she had spoken was a warning. "Don't let them take you Ginny. The torture you can handle, but the other things . . ."
Ginny hadn't known what other things, until the night Luna was tossed back in their cell, naked.
She shuttered, wondering what had happened to the others she'd been with the night they had been caught. They had gone out to celebrate Colin Creevey's 20th birthday, despite heavy warnings from Dumbledore and her mother not to go where danger might be. No counted on danger being in Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley maybe, but never Diagon Alley. So they had headed out to a nightclub, whose current motto had been "Don't Let the Dark Days Get You Down" and just after midnight, the club had erupted with unforgivable curses. Ginny remembered dancing with an absolutely gorgeous wizard with bright blue eyes, then there were screams and shouts, and she was knocked out. When she awoke, she was chained up in the dungeon of Dartford Prison.
The heavy iron door to their cell creaked open and Ginny squeezed her eyes shut against the light. She had quickly learned that crying and screaming and cursing and begging did no good. It was best to save your energy because you might be next. Harsh, booted steps boomed through the floor, and Ginny nearly fainted when she felt her chains melt away.
"It's your turn, Weasley slut, let's go."
Before she could react, a hand had clasped her hair and she was stumbling out of the room. The bright overhead lights of the long hall burned her eyes.
"Move it! He's waiting for you."
Her eyes still had not adjusted to the light when she was pushed into a room. She landed sharply on her knees and broke her fall with the palms of her hands. Get up, get up, get up, her mind begged. Don't let Luna's fate become your own.
She squinted against the violent light, and saw the tall unmistakable form of a Death Eater in front of her. "Just what I like," he said silkily. "The littlest Weasley bowing to me."
Ginny scrambled unsteadily to her feet. She hadn't heard that voice in years, but she would never forget it. "You horrible, despicable-"
She was silenced as Draco Malfoy's hand bore down on her face. "Is that anyway to talk to the person who now controls your fate?"
Her lower lip trembled, but she pressed on. "So this is your reward?" she snapped. "You get to be head prison guard? That's your reward for all your loyal service to the Dark Lord?"
Draco raised his hand again, but didn't slap her. "Be careful little Weasley. You don't want to end up like Looney, do you?"
"You wouldn't dare."
"You're right, I wouldn't," he agreed smoothly. "But I wouldn't stop anyone else from doing whatever they fancied with you. But I didn't bring you in here to talk about who wants to do what to you. I have a few special assignments for you. You can't imagine how pleased I was when I found out you were here."
Ginny wanted to break his neck, watching him stand in front of her so smugly. His heavy black robes pooled at his feet, making a severe contrast with his pale skin and hair. If he comes near me, she swore, I will fight him, no matter what the consequences are.
"Come here, little Weasley," he commanded.
Ginny stayed still, staring at him with defiant eyes.
"Did you hear me? I don't repeat myself."
"Go to hell."
He began to laugh. "You are in hell little girl. And I'm the master of it." He grabbed the front of her dirty robes and yanked her towards him. "I'm your master now. You do what I say." With a lazy wave of his wand, he hissed, "Expelliarmus."
Ginny didn't even have time to scream before she was thrown off her feet and smashed against a wall, the back of her head popping painfully as she did.
"Ready to obey me?"
"I hate you. I hate you. You're a disgusting prat and-"
"Expelliarmus!"
She shot up, and then sideways. Draco continued to flick his wand up and down and Ginny smashed helplessly into the wall over and over. When Draco finally stopped, Ginny couldn't move. Things in her body were broken, and she wasn't quite sure what to do. The pain was so intense, so excruciating, she almost couldn't comprehend it.
"What am I?" he asked, leaning down, his face only inches from hers.
She opened her mouth but no words came out; it was too painful to speak, too painful to breathe.
He shoved the tip of his wand into her neck. "Tell me what I am."
"Master," she made her lungs force the air out. "Master Malfoy."
"That's right," he whispered in her ear. "Heilario Tloxium."
The pain rushed from Ginny's crumpled body, and as she gingerly flexed her wrist, she knew he had healed her.
He stared at her expectantly.
"Thank you, Master." Ginny forced her gaze away from his laughing eyes and satisfied smirk.
"Now come," he commanded, turning on his heel. "You won't be staying in the dungeons anymore."
Ginny forced herself to her feet and followed him tentatively from the room. He may have healed her body, but her mind was still in shock. She followed him down several halls, and finally showed her to a large room, with wooden floors, long and narrow windows near the ceiling, a bed, chest of drawers, and a large polished desk.
"I have work to do," he told her calmly, seating himself at the desk. "And my shoes need cleaned."
She nodded carefully, unsure what was expected of her. "Do you have a rag?"
He let out a snort. "You'll be cleaning them with your tongue, little Weasley."
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