The Shattered Dragon

Chapter 1: The Proposal

It was an old stone manor far on the outskirts of London, set on rolling hills with century old trees and a stream running through the front gardens like a moat. The windows were old, warped and bubbled glass, some of them framed in elaborate stained glass designs, the front door painted a deep forest green with a brass knocker in the shape of a crossbow. The lawns were impeccable, flowers blooming bright and dense, even a little herd of deer strolling the grounds...just for ambience.

No one would ever believe it was a brothel.

Hermione stepped out of the gatehouse along with her escort and they began the long walk up the winding cobblestone entrance. It was cold, nearly November and the wind whipped her hair and cut through the thin fabric of her coat.

"Why didn't we floo right to the main house?" She asked, holding her single bag tight to her side.

"Not allowed. Trust me," Theo said, striding on a bit ahead of her. "Once you're inside for a while, you'll appreciate the fresh air."

Hermione frowned, walking the rest of the way in silence.

Theo rapped on the heavy front door with a fast little six knock pattern and they waited, the mottled glass on either side of the door too distorted to show her anything inside. Her teeth chattered and her breath felt tight in her lungs but it had nothing to do with the cold. Bolted to the wall beside them was an unobtrusive gold plaque with finely engraved letters reading:

The Shattered Dragon

Est. 2005

D. Malfoy - Owner

After a moment the door opened and there he stood, a smug beautiful grin on his face, his platinum hair smooth and slick, a bit of fringe sweeping down over his left eye. The sleeves of his slate grey shirt were rolled to expose his forearms, his hands tucked deep in the pockets of his black trousers; very much the business man except that she noticed he was barefoot on the black marble floor.

"Well if it isn't Robin Hood! Theo," he said, still not moving or holding out a hand to welcome them in. His eyes slid to Theo for a brief second along with a subtle nod and Hermione felt the bag being pulled off her shoulder and taken somewhere in the house. "Hermione."

"Draco," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Draco winced dramatically and then offered a kind, sympathetic smile.

"Oh sorry love, I should have told you. While you're here, you'll call me Mr. Malfoy. So sorry, but we have rules."

She ground her teeth together, knowing he was waiting for her to argue, to swear, to refuse, but instead she simply nodded.

"Of course Mr. Malfoy."

"Good girl," he said, reaching out to smooth a wrinkle from the panel of her coat and pick a small twig from her hair, frowning at it before flicking it out into the yard. "Come on in then. We'll show you the ropes..." he laughed and offered her a wink. "So to speak."

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Voldemort had won. The war was short and devastating, with losses in the tens of thousands for both sides. And so in the end the purebloods, the faithful who stepped in line behind Voldemort came into power. But Voldemort was nothing if not a dictator and as it happened, a poor one, with little ability to lead an entire wizarding population when all he cared about was amassing more power for himself. Before long everyone suffered. Hogwarts crumbled with no one wanting their children attending. Little tourist towns like Hogsmeade and business centres like Diagon Alley decayed to almost nothing. Wizarding families moved elsewhere in Europe, the reputation of Wizard England plummeted. But he dug in his heels and ran roughshod over the country, amassing wealth and property and slaves for himself, not caring a moment for anyone else...not even the pureblood families, the death eater families that had sworn their allegiance. Nothing mattered to anyone anymore except money and survival.