Hermione Jane Granger stumbled as she ran through the forest. Ridiculously, she wondered if it had really happened, since no one was around to hear the startled scream.
She lay there, staring up at the sun through a thick covering of branches. They were coming for her, she knew they were. Harry and Ron were safe with the Order. She had left their protection to take her parents out of the country. She no longer feared for her friends' lives, but they were coming for her. "God, what am I going to do?" she whispered to herself, finally shifting around on the ground, feeling for broken bones.
"Scream." The voice wrung another cry from her lips. The face was familiar, but she couldn't put a name to the man standing across from her, his stance deceptively relaxed and his wand pointed at her heart. "I suggest, little wren, that you come quietly, though I would truly enjoy it if you fought me. I like it when they fight me." His lips formed a smile, but his summer sky blue eyes never wavered from their malice.
"Wh... Who are you? I'm warning you, my friends are nearby." She cursed herself for putting her wand inside her knee-high boots, where it would do no good. Wondering how many times she'd be Crucio'd before she could reach it, she squinted up at the impossibly tall man, who was smiling as if they were sitting at the finest restaurant in London discussing a favourite book. The smile was gleeful, with a hint of frantic madness that was more terrifying than his powerful build.
"We've met, little wren. We've met. But please, allow me to formally introduce myself." The mocking smile seemed to grow at her flinch. "Rabastan... Rabastan Lestrange. It really is a ...pleasure, to finally formally meet you, though I expected Potter's Mudblood to be far prettier." Hermione's heart stopped and stuttered, and she was no longer listening after he uttered his name. She was certain she would not be leaving these woods, the unnamed forest would be the only witness to her last moments on Earth.
"Don't worry, Mudblood, you aren't valuable to me dead; not at the moment at least." He was quietly calculating how to wring the most value from her capture. He was in favour with the Dark Lord, but knew it would not always be so. Lord Voldemort had a long memory for slights, but favour went like a whore's affection. Easy to buy, hard to keep.
"In fact, if you're very good to me, little wren, you needn't even see any Death Eaters just yet." Without further explanation, Hermione saw a beam of light and then knew nothing. She did not see Rabastan close his eyes and wonder what he'd become. Kidnapping schoolgirls, and chasing children. A noble cause indeed.
Feeling like wool socks had been stuffed in her mouth for days, Hermione started shifting as she woke up. She quickly took stock of her aches and pains, remembering the meeting in the forest with Lestrange. She noticed she was not bound, but looking around the small room she saw no windows through which to make her escape. Rabastan wasn't there, only a dingy mattress on rotted-through floorboards, and a sickening smell that seemed to rise from the walls themselves. The door didn't look strong enough to keep her in, but she knew the man was not one of the most dangerous Azkaban escapees for nothing. The door was bound to be heavily warded.
"How do I get myself in these messes?" she muttered to herself as she reached inside her boot, knowing she'd be coming up empty. "Hello!" she yelled. Getting up and walking to the door, she wondered if he'd left her here to die. She would go insane before slowly starving to death. Maybe he was watching her pound the door. She refused to allow him to break her so easily, telling herself over and over that the Order would find her. Giving up at the door, she went to the mattress and sat, waiting for her captor. She started to lose count of the seconds she spent staring at the dingy door when he finally walked through, nose in the air and a superior sneer on his lips.
"I thought you would have a longer sleep. Forgive me, little wren. You must think me a poor host." He didn't have his wand in hand this time, and Hermione wondered if she could overpower him and run. Looking him over she realized that she wouldn't stand a chance. He stood at least 6'4" tall, and had the build of an athlete despite what she knew to be many years in Azkaban. Going mad.
"What do you want from me?" Her chin went up in defiance at the smile that was starting to tug at his lips again. That smile was making its way on to the list of her least favourite things, right below Voldemort and right above Umbridge.
"Do not trouble yourself, little wren. Potter's Mudblood is valuable currency in the circles I travel." Out of nowhere the wand was back in his hands, and pointed at her. "Come on now, we haven't much time. I'm leaving you somewhere... safe, for the time being." He gestured vaguely towards the open door way. "After you, madam." Bowing mockingly, he watched her leave the room. He knew she was no longer a child, but her small frame gave the appearance of youth, and he felt the stirring of his conscience. It pricked often, but he was more than a master at ignoring its nagging voice. After all, the choices had all been made, and where his brother stood, he would proudly follow.
They walked silently down a narrow hallway, and Hermione wondered where they were. "Through there." His voice was low, and she thought it sounded like an instrument left many years without use. They had passed many doorways, and when she pushed through the large door she was unprepared for the sunlight hitting her eyes. "If you make a sound, or try to run, I will take great pleasure in killing you."