Wake Up
He woke to the shock of freezing water splashing across his face, the cold tearing a scream from his lungs. In his panic, he inhaled a mouthful of water, and the burning sensation of it filled his throat as he coughed and sputtered, gasping for air. The feeling of drowning overwhelmed him. Bound tightly, he tugged frantically at his restraints, his mind spinning out of control as fear gripped him. His body convulsed with each violent cough, until they finally began to subside.
Sunlight crept through the cracks in the barn walls.
Morning.
But how long had he been unconscious? A better question haunted him: how long had it been since he was kidnapped?
He was bound differently than the night before. His arms stretched high above his head, each wrist secured to opposite wooden posts in the barn. His feet barely grazed the floor, just enough to prevent him from resting his heels fully. He squirmed, pulling against the restraints, but the ropes seemed to shift with him, slithering across his skin, restricting his movements to the smallest, most frustrating range of motion.
Granger stood nearby, her eyes steady and composed as she observed him struggle.
“Good morning, Draco, she said softly, her voice carrying an almost playful edge. How did you sleep?"
He tugged against the ropes, harder this time, the friction biting into his wrists. "You think this is funny, Granger?" he sneered. "Untie me. Now."
She raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered by his demands. "Oh, Draco, you're in no position to be giving orders."
His teeth clenched as he strained against the bonds, his frustration mounting. "If you think you can keep me like this, you're delusional. When I’m free, I’ll—"
"—you’ll what?" she interrupted, her lips curling into a smirk as she stepped closer, her voice softening. "Perhaps, instead of focusing on empty threats, you should concentrate on your current predicament."
He glared at her, struggling to keep control of his anger. "You won’t get away with this, Granger. You have no idea who you’re dealing with."
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Oh, Draco, I know exactly who I’m dealing with." Her eyes locked onto his, a challenge gleaming behind them. "The question is... do you?".
When he failed to respond, she stepped closer to him, her lips curling into a smirk. "Perhaps it’s time you learned,".
Bound and raised, his height towered over her as she stood in front of him, that same smirk playing on her lips. Her fingers reached out, just grazing the hem of his shirt where it had lifted from the strain of the ropes. The touch was light, almost teasing, her cool fingertips brushing against his abs, sending an involuntary shiver through him.
Then, with a fluid, almost casual motion, she grabbed a fistful of the material and tugged. The ropes seemed to respond to her will, loosening with a soft slithering sound as they shifted, accommodating her grip and pulling him lower. His body bent awkwardly toward her, the chains groaning overhead as his face was forced closer to hers.
"Let’s begin with a history lesson, shall we?" she whispered, her breath warm against his cold skin, sending an unwelcome shudder through him. "It’s fitting, really. You Malfoys are so proud of your lineage, your so-called superiority but have you ever truly studied what that legacy entails?"
Her grip tightened as she yanked him even lower, forcing his limbs to strain painfully against the ropes.
"Pureblood families like yours ruled the magical world with fear and cruelty. You crushed anyone who didn’t fit your narrow ideals…Muggle-borns, magical creatures…anyone who dared to challenge the status quo."
Her disgust was palpable.
"And your family? The Malfoys?" "They were among the worst of them all.
"Fuck you."
Her reaction was swift. With a flick of her wand, the chains loosened, and his body was yanked downward, crashing to the floor with a painful thud. His chest slammed into the rough wooden boards, the force knocking the breath from his lungs. He let out a sharp yell, pain radiating through his torso.
Before he could even recover, her hand was in his hair, fingers locking into a fierce, iron-clad grip. The sharp pull sent bolts of pain ripping through his scalp, a low hiss escaping his lips despite himself.
She yanked his head down further forcing his face onto the filthy, splintered floor. The smell of dust and dirt filled his nostrils, as the rough wood scraped against his cheek. He struggled against her hold but any movement just made her press harder until he eventually went still.
Hermione leaned in closer, until her lips hovered just above his ear.
"No, Draco. Fuck you.This time, you will learn what it feels like to be on the losing side of history."
She paused, letting the words sink in, before adding.
"I did warn you... I have very little patience for disrespect."
Her grip on his hair tightened, sending fresh waves of pain through his scalp, forcing him to stay low, completely at her mercy.
"You will respect me in future. Are we in agreement?"
Draco gritted his teeth, the sharp sting from the pull on his scalp intensifying. His body throbbed, pressed into the unforgiving floor, but his pride refused to bend.
"I don’t owe you anything," he spat..
Her fingers twisted harder in his hair, forcing his cheek to grind against the rough wooden boards. Splinters bit into his skin. He gasped, struggling to suppress the groan of pain that bubbled up in his throat.
"I’ll ask again," she said calmly, her voice unmoved."Are we in agreement?"
His breathing was ragged, his eyes squeezed shut against the building pressure. Every nerve in his body screamed for release, the pain now unbearable.
"I…" He hissed through clenched teeth, his defiance crumbling under the weight of it all. "Fine."
Her grip relaxed as she released him, giving him time to catch his breath.
"That’s better," she said, her tone softening slightly.
“Now lets continue.Do you even know how your family made their fortune?" she asked.
Draco struggled, using his core muscles to lift himself up. The ropes slithered and tightened around his wrists, sensing his defiance as he rose to his knees. His arms were still bound above him, pulling him taut, but the ropes adjusted just enough to allow him mobility.
"Of course I know," he snapped, his voice filled with the same haughty pride that had been drilled into him since childhood. "It was ingrained in me before I could even hold a wand.
The Malfoys didn’t rise to power by chance. We earned it. My ancestors were leaders; pioneers in diplomacy, magic, and business."
Draco met her gaze with a smirk, the familiar arrogance creeping back despite the scratches on his cheek and the dirt clinging to his skin.
"We brought order to chaos and became the protectors of wizarding traditions. Like it or not, Granger, the Malfoys are heroes."
His eyes burned with conviction as he continued, unable to stop the rehearsed words from spilling out.
"The Malfoys were the ones who kept the magical world from falling apart, when weak-willed fools would have let it crumble."
With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed himself up from his knees, the ropes straining and tightening around his wrists but yielding just enough for him to rise. He stood tall, his feet firmly planted, chest swelling with pride.
"We ensured that the right people… those with knowledge, power, and bloodline became the leaders of British wizarding society.”
He lifted his chin, meeting her gaze with the full force of his arrogance. "The world owes us a debt of gratitude."
"Wrong," she said, her voice slicing through his arrogance.
Draco’s confident smirk faltered.
"The Malfoys didn’t lead,they looted. They didn’t protect,they exploited. The world doesn’t owe you gratitude,it owes you nothing but scorn."
Draco’s fists clenched as he struggled against his bindings,."You don’t understand—"
"I understand perfectly," Hermione hissed."The Malfoys crushed anyone who didn’t fit their narrow, bigoted ideals. Your ancestors weren’t heroes, they were parasites feeding off the wizarding world while pretending to uphold its traditions. Your so-called legacy is built on the backs of the oppressed. And you want to call that heroism?""
Draco pulled against his bindings, the ropes tightening with each tug, his frustration mounting. "Your family has done nothing but tear people down to keep themselves on top. You built your fortune by stepping on the powerless. And now?" Her eyes gleamed with malice. "Now, you’re the one in chains."
Draco made a desperate attempt to regain control of the conversation "Of course you’d see it that way. Mudblo—"
The word barely left his lips before Hermione’s hand cracked across his cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, silencing him. Draco’s head snapped to the side, his face stinging with the force of the blow.
"How dare you," her voice trembling with anger. "You think calling me a Mudblood gives you power over me?"
She shook her head, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "You’re nothing but a coward, Draco. A spoiled, arrogant coward clinging to a legacy built on lies."
"That ends now," Hermione said firmly. "First, though, you must be punished. Any use of slurs will not be tolerated."
With a flick of her wand, his shirt was stripped from him, the fabric tearing away, leaving his chest bare. He shivered as the cold morning air bit into his skin, his nipples hardening against the chill.
Fear gnawed at him as he watched her transfigure her wand into a riding crop, the smooth, oiled leather gleaming ominously.. His breath quickened, panic swelling in his chest.
"Don’t you dare," he spat, trying to keep the tremor from his voice, but the fear bled through.
Hermione said nothing, moving behind him with deliberate slowness. The silence was suffocating, anticipation building with every second.
He struggled against the ropes, his movements frantic. "Granger…. DON’T."
But it was too late. The first strike came down across his back with a crack that echoed through the barn. The pain was instant, sharp and searing. He gasped, his body tensing involuntarily as the sting of the blow settled into his flesh, leaving a burning trail in its wake.
Before he could catch his breath, another blow followed.
Then another.
The riding crop lashed across his back again and again, the pain compounding with every strike, each one more intense than the last. The skin of his back felt raw as if it was being torn apart by the repeated hits.
"Stop!" he cried out, his voice breaking as the crop connected with his skin again. "Stop! Granger, please!" He was panting now, the pain blurring the edges of his vision, his body trembling with each blow. "For Merlin’s sake…I'm sorry….. Okay? I’m sorry!"
But she wasn’t satisfied. The crop came down harder, until his voice cracked, his desperate apologies becoming hoarse, shaky.
"I’m sorry," he whimpered, sincerity laced in every word now. "Please… I’m sorry."
It wasn’t until his apologies rang true and that every ounce of defiance was stripped from his tone that the blows finally stopped.
She came back into his line of vision. Draco felt utterly exposed, his body trembling from the pain and humiliation. His breaths were shallow, ragged, and when she lifted her hand, he flinched instinctively, his body recoiling from the expectation of another blow.
But instead, her touch was gentle. Hermione placed her hand on his cheek, her palm warm against his cold, shivering skin.
"I know this is hard for you," she said softly, her voice soothing, almost tender. "You’ve been misled for so long, Draco. The truth... it’s not an easy thing to accept, especially when you’ve had power stripped from you."
Her thumb brushed gently against his cheek, wiping away the dirt that clung to his skin.
"But I promise this is the best way forward and If you continue to disrespect me I’ll have no choice but to keep punishing you,"
She watched as Draco’s breath hitched, his body still aching from the punishment she had just dealt
"Perhaps it’s time we lay out some clear rules for you to follow.
“How does that sound?”she said almost cheerfully.
"Let’s start with just three rules.That won’t be so bad, will it? Easy enough for you to follow.Nod if you agree," Hermione demanded.
Reluctantly, Draco nodded.
"One," she continued, her voice steady but firm. "Since I am to be your educator, you will address me with the proper title and respect. It won’t matter whether you’re answering a question, asking for permission, or... something more. You will always address me as Ms. Granger."
Draco gritted his teeth, trying to keep himself quiet, suppressing the fire of resistance that burned beneath the surface.
"Second," "you will never utter another slur like that again. If you even think about disrespecting another living creature with anything less than what they deserve, I will punish you. Swiftly. Harshly. And I will continue your punishment until I’m satisfied you’ve learned your lesson."
She didn't wait for him to respond, instead she began to circle him slowly. The soft tap of her boots on the floor echoed in the drafty barn. Her fingers tracing along the riding crop, twisting the supple leather as she moved behind him.
"And third," she continued, her voice lowering, carrying an almost dangerous calm. Draco’s hands twitched against the ropes, his body rigid with fear as she disappeared from his view. His heart pounded in his chest, each second of silence stretching painfully. He held his breath, the tension mounting unbearably, before she reappeared in front of him,
"I am now in complete control of you. Your well-being, your needs, your desires. If you want something whether it be food, water, relief from the cold…you will ask me for it. And it will only be given if I deem it necessary. Or If you have earned the privilege. You don’t decide anymore, Draco. I do."
Draco’s heart pounded in his ears, the sound almost drowning out her words. The humiliation was suffocating, choking him. His pride screamed for defiance, but the ropes and her gaze kept him pinned in place.
"Do you understand?" she asked.
He couldn't take his eyes off the crop in her hand.
"You can resist, of course. But if you do, I can just continue your punishment until you agree. There’s no need for pride here. Just obedience."
The threat of more punishment made his stomach knott with fear.
"So, Draco," “are we in agreement?"
Draco’s eyes burned with hatred, his body trembling as his pride warred with the reality of his situation. The words wouldn’t come at first, stuck in his throat. Slowly, his gaze dropped, and his shoulders sagged.
"Yes... Ms. Granger," he muttered, the words nearly choking him as they left his mouth.
Hermione’s smile was small, but the satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable. "Good," she said softly."We wouldn’t want things to get... difficult again, would we?"
He shook his head.
"Now, let’s continue with our history lesson, shall we?"
Over the next several hours, Hermione delved into the ugly truths of pureblood history, citing specific examples of their cruelty and greed.
The massacre at Hottma’s Hole, when his ancestors had slaughtered an entire fairy clan just to seize rare potion ingredients.
The rebellion of Blastid Blatment, where he and several other pureblood clans had come together to crush a peaceful community of magical creatures for daring to challenge their authority.
She named off victims, prisoners and those that had been slaughtered in great detail.
She knew it all, and her words made him feel as though his bloodline had been stripped bare, the weight of their sins laid out in front of him for her judgment. With surgical precision, she peeled back the layers of his carefully constructed legacy, exposing the darkness that lurked beneath.
All the while the cold ravished his skin. His muscles trembled uncontrollably, his skin prickling with goosebumps, and the taste of blood lingered faintly in his mouth where he had bitten down on his cheek to keep from crying out earlier.
Periodically, Hermione would stop her lecture, forcing him to repeat the dark history aloud.
When his mind wandered, or worse, when he dared to mutter something under his breath, the sharp crack of the riding crop followed. It landed with a stinging bite against his back or shoulders, sending a flash of heat through his skin that contrasted with the bone-deep cold.
The blows were quick,and precise, but the pain lingered, his skin tightening and throbbing where the leather met flesh.
"Pay attention, Draco," she’d say, the sound of the crop twisting in her. Afterwards he would force himself to focus,his voice hoarse as he tried to answer her questions.
By the end, his body felt hollow and exhausted.
"I think that concludes our first lesson.” Hermione said, a genuine smile curling her lips as she fingered the necklace around her neck.
We’ll continue our next lesson tomorrow. She turned toward the barn doors. Panic bubbled in his chest like a slow, sickening wave. She was going to leave him here. Bound, cold, helpless.
"Wait..." His voice cracked.
Hermione paused, her hand resting on the door as she slowly turned back, eyebrow arched.
"Yes, Draco?"
"Please..." His pride was a bitter taste in his mouth, but he had no choice. "Ms. Granger. "I'm so cold...Don't leave me like this.”
She paused, her hand still on the crop, considering his plea. Then, with an almost casual turn, she looked back at him, her eyes cold and calculating.
"What was the name of the leader of the Rebellion of Blastid Blatment?" she asked.
Draco froze, his mind spinning in panic. She had gone over the details, countless names, dates, injustices but he had been so exhausted, so cold, the facts blending into one another.
His body trembled as he racked his brain, scrambling to recall the name. What was it? His pulse quickened with desperation.
"I—" he stammered, his voice shaky.He blurted out the first name that came to mind. "H-Harrison... no, no... it was... Marek! Marek!"
Hermione’s eyebrow arched. "Marek?" she repeated, disapprovingly.
Draco’s heart sank. He could tell immediately by her tone that he had guessed wrong.
"And here I thought you’d learned something," she said, a note of disappointment in her voice.
Without another word, she turned and opened the barn doors, the cold wind rushing in briefly before she stepped out, leaving him to his misery.
GOD DAMN IT, GRANGER, LET ME OUT!" he screamed.
But there was no answer.
He was left bound and freezing.
Utterly alone.