"STOP! Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next."

"You are a lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

"We've never been inside your vault...It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"It's a fake."

"Good. And now, we call the Dark Lord."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron had burst into the drawing room; Bellatrix looked around, shocked; she turned her wand to face Ron instead - "Expelliarmus!" he roared, pointing Wormtail's wand at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!"

Hermione felt her jugular throbbing. It pulsated and pushed back against the sharp edge of the blade that was slicing a thin line into her throat. Bellatrix's grip tightened around her hair, pulling her head back even farther and pressing the knife even deeper. She was only faintly aware of the yelling going on around her through the sound of her blood flowing through her veins and rushing to her head. There was a crash and a shatter, as a spray of glass shards that sliced into her flesh. Warm, sticky blood slipped from the cuts in her face as she was forcefully thrown from one pair of thin, cold arms and into another.

"Draco! Take it to the cellars!" ordered Bellatrix.

She would have struggled, but she didn't have the strength. Malfoy dragged her into the hall, and she made every effort to memorize what turns he took. Out of the drawing room doors, seven large steps, a left, three more steps, a right then...her vision blurred and her stomach flipped. She groaned, as she was sure she missed a step. They went through a heavy wooden door, and down a steep flight of stairs. She landed hard on the cement floor and looked back to the doorway where the tall, blonde boy stood, silhouetted faintly from the light behind him. Her blood was smeared was into his white dress shirt, creating stains that could never be washed away. A strangled sob forced its way out of her mouth as she collapsed in on herself, no longer able to hold it together. He slammed the iron gate, devoid of sympathy, turned his back, and retreated up the staircase. She flinched as the heavy door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.

In the hall, Draco looked down at himself. His arms were streaked with her blood, his shirt soaking in all that it could. He started toward another staircase at the end of the South Hall, the one that lead up to the bedrooms. He had his shirt off before he reached his room. He carried it with him into his bathroom and threw it into the bin just inside the door.

"Incendio," he muttered, his wand pointed at the cloth. A small fire erupted, engulfing all the rubbish. He watched the flames dance, and listened to them cackle as they burned away her muddy blood. Then, with a quick Aguamenti charm, he doused the flames with a small jet of water. Her blood was still splattered across his body, sinking into his skin. The blood of a schoolmate, someone he'd known for over five years, someone who'd gone to the same classes, done the same homework, and eaten the same food, was on his arms, his chest, and his hands.

His breathing grew shallow and he started to panic. It was still the blood of a mudblood. It was the blood of mudblood and it was sinking into his skin. His arms flew out in front of him and into the bathroom cabinets, desperate to find anything to clean off the filth. He ran the hot water until it was almost scalding. He scrubbed his arms raw and his chest until it hurt so bad he couldn't continue. His breathing started to calm once he was clean but his pain only worsened. He felt as if he were on fire. His hand tightly gripped the edges of the sink and he stared at his reflection in the mirror, ignoring the pain. A loud crash from below caught his attention. His aunt must not be too pleased. After he found a clean shirt, he went back downstairs, but stopped just outside of the door.

"How could this happen?!" Bellatrix bellowed. She paced the floor, stomping her heavy boots into the wood. Her chest heaved with anger and her mouth twitched into a snarl.

"Perhaps if we called upon the Dark-" Lucius began to suggest, his voice wary and a little shaky. But before he could finish Bellatrix spun on her heels and shot a nonverbal spell into his chest. He flew back and landed with a crash on the floor behind him. Narcissa flinched. Bellatrix marched over to Lucius, wand at her side.

"We had the boy and now we don't! We had the boy and he - got - away!" Lucius kept his eyes closed, but she was so close that he could smell the decay in her breath and feel her matted curls hanging around him. "I don't think my Lord would be too pleased with that, do you?"

With as much dignity as he could muster, he replied with a simple, "no." Bellatrix straightened up and looked down at him with a crazed gleam in her eyes. She tapped the tip of her wand on her chin.

"In fact I think someone should be punished. This is your filthy house, isn't it Lucius? So tell me how is it they got away?" Lucius opened his mouth to respond but Bellatrix cut him off, pointing her wand in his direction. "Crucio!" He yelled out in pain, unable to stop himself.

"Sister!" Narcissa cried out with a forced sternness, shocked and unable to watch the torture of her husband at the hands of her own sister. Bellatrix stopped, but didn't take her eyes off of Lucius. Seeing a supposedly noble man writhe on the floor in tears of pain at the end of her wand brought her immense joy. "Perhaps the mudblood will know where they've gone," Narcissa offered. Her voice was soft and calm but her heart was beating rapidly. Her sister had not always been this way, but as her devotion to the Dark Lord grew, so did her madness. Bellatrix turned around to face her sister, but a small sound from the other side of one of the doors caught her attention.

"Draco, you should know better than to eavesdrop!" The door in front of him flew open, almost smashing into his face. His reflexes, honed by years of Quidditch and paranoia, spared him a broken nose. He stumbled back, but quickly regained his composure. With his shoulders squared and his spine straight Draco stepped into the room. Bellatrix snarled at him, primitive, but turned her attention back to Narcissa. "Do you suggest we torture her, Cissy?" She asked, a hopeful tone in her voice.

"I suggest we do what we have to do." Narcissa's gaze went behind Bella and to her husband. Lucius had only just started to stand, using the heavy mantle of large fireplace behind him for leverage. His eyes were glazed over, milky and unfocused. She hated to see him like this, weak and powerless. He'd done so much for their family, given up so much...and for what? For her sister to treat him like a common house elf? Her eyes then darted to the right, toward the entrance of the drawing where Draco, her only son, her only child, was standing in wait. He looked so stoic, so much like his father used to. Would Draco be the next one to cry on the floor in pain? She focused her attention back to her sister.

Bellatrix cackled and began to lightly skip around. "Torture, torture, torture! Oh lovely, lovely day!" She laughed and clapped her hands, all too happy to inflict insurmountable amounts of pain onto any foul little mudblood, let alone the special one she had locked away in the dungeons.

Draco drew in a deep breath and stepped further into the room. What he was about to say wouldn't make Bellatrix happy but it had to be said. He knew Granger, and he knew Gryffindors. She would never give up Potter, not for anything. It wouldn't matter what Bellatrix did to her or how much pain she felt, that damned Gryffindor bravery would never let her reveal anything. "It won't work," he said firmly, if not defingly. Bellatrix stopped and glared at him, cocking her head to the left. He held his position, staring straight ahead and not at his deranged aunt.

"What did you say to me, child?"

He kept his composure and moved his head ever so slightly to look at her. The amount of madness in his aunt's face could be frightening, but he'd long since learned that if he looked at her as a child he could hold onto his voice better. "I said, it won't work." Bella marched around the fallen chandelier and closer to her nephew. The shattered crystal crunched under her boots, heavy with her rage.

"Careful now, we wouldn't want you to end up like your father." She pointed her wand back at Lucius but did nothing. He flinched anyway. Draco couldn't look at his father. He couldn't look at Bellatrix, either. He'd always been taught, and always believed, that family was everything. You can depend on your family and your family can depend on you. They were Malfoys and they were Blacks. They were pureblood, and they protected each other. But here he was, standing in a sitting room of his childhood home, watching his father cower under the wand of his aunt.

"If she didn't give up the sword after what you've already done to her," he started, trying to push the sound of Hermione's screams and the smell of her blood burning out of his head , "she won't give up the people she cares for."

Bellatrix examined the boy, tilting her head to the side as she tried to figure out what angle he was playing from. Narcissa came to her son's defense. "He has a point, dear sister. However, there may be... other ways to gather the information we're after."

All three Malfoys stared at Bellatrix, waiting for a response. The room was silent, save for the ticking of the centuries old grandfather clock in the corner and the occasional whimper from Lucius as he tried to breath without pain. Minutes of palpable tension passed before a jagged smile spread across her face. "Yes, perhaps there is." She turned to face Narcissa, but still addressed Draco.

"Draco, be a good little boy and fetch us some water." Confused, he gave a short nod and turned to leave. He passed up the door to the dungeon and rounded the corner into the kitchens where there were two house elves mulling about.

"You," he commanded to the closest one, "I need a pitcher of water, now, and four glasses." The elf whimpered and bowed low. "Hurry!" In a matter of moments the elf was presenting him a tray.

"Veritaserum, Bella?" Narcissa asked as her son left the room.

"Nothing that harmless. It is only temporary, after all." Bellatrix answered casually, then a tone of contempt took over her voice. "Besides, that pathetic Severus has yet to replenish our stores."

Draco re-entered the room carrying the tray. Bellatrix strolled over to him and poked at all but one cup, sending each one crashing to the hardwood below with a resounding crash. The glass glittered beneath her boots as she circled Draco.

"Take this to the little bitch. Set it down and sit with her for a few minutes. Say nothing, then bring back what she doesn't drink." Draco looked like he might question her, and Lucius definitely wanted to, but she yelled before either could. "Now!"

xxx

After Malfoy left, Hermione allowed herself to crumble. There was no one but herself and her thoughts in the dungeon, no one to put on a brave face for. She sobbed and shivered and shook until she had nothing left. Her eyes were swollen and her throat was dry, gritty like sandpaper and raw from screaming. Her bones ached and her muscles burned under her skin. But when she finished, when she felt she had nothing left inside of her, she started to take big, deep breaths. Sharp pains shot through her chest and she whimpered at the possibility of a broken rib or a collapsed lung. She ignored the pain and stretched, doing her best to comb her fingers through her matted curls. She tore the sleeves from her shirt and did her best to clean her wounds, staunching the bleeding from some of the deeper cuts. A piece of glass, likely from the chandelier, had wedged itself into her calf. Not deep enough to cause serious damage, Hermione elected to remove it. She was still sore and tired and scared, but she was not yet broken. She wouldn't let them break her.

She began to take stock of her situation. The room she was in was long and narrow with floors of stone and there was only one door, behind the iron gate. There was a small lantern hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room, but there was no light. She could hear the creaking of people on the wooden floors above, and a small dripping noise from an unknown source. There were rusted shackles on one wall, though they looked as though they hadn't been unused for centuries. Hermione ran her fingers along the stone walls and took in how damp and cold they felt, as if the rocks could cry with her.

Taking stock of her mental situation was easier, as the only consolation she would afford herself was the knowledge that everyone else had escaped, that she was alone in these dungeons and her friends were safe somewhere else. This thought brought her peace, enough of it that she finally realised just how tired she was. Exhaustion set in and she closed her eyes for just a moment.

When the wooden door at the top of the stairs creaked open, Hermione stood in an attempt to prepare herself. The sound of the heavy door scraping against the floor was sharp to her ears, an unwelcome break from the rhythmic dripping of water. She was awake, but barely. None of this felt real, this wasn't supposed to be how the mission went. She knew there wasn't much she could do against Bellatrix, Lucius, or anyone else who wanted to to torture her, which of course they were going to do, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight. The footsteps grew closer, and as they approached she also heard a faint noise; like glass tapping against glass. She took a deep breath and resolved that she wasn't going to tell them anything. No matter what they did to her, no matter how bad it got, she would not tell them anything. Hermione might be stuck in the dungeons of Malfoy sodding Manor, but she would not undo the all of the risks her friends had taken.

She almost sighed with relief when she saw Malfoy standing behind the gate, his knuckles white as he held a tray carrying a pitcher of water. Even if he was there to torture her, at least it would be a familiar face. At least she could replay what it felt like to strike his face with her fist over and over again in her mind, a years old memory that could help her pretend she was fighting back. He opened the gate and locked it behind him. Torn between staying small and hurling insults at him, she stood against the far wall as he crossed the room and set the tray down a few feet in front of her. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a small stool and took a seat across from her. She didn't take her eyes from him, didn't dare look to the water for fear of caving to her thirst. Her throat screamed as she subconsciously swallowed air. Her dry, cracking tongue ached for moisture, but there was no telling what was in the water. Veritaserum? Poison? Something even worse? But, she thought, it was water. Memories flashed through her mind. A quenching drink at the Burrow on a hot day after degnoming the yard with the boys, sitting in the grass with Ginny, drinking and laughing about the most trivial of things. Water.

Draco didn't break his gaze, either. He didn't say anything, per his Aunt Bella's instructions, but wondered why she was keeping quiet. Did Granger really have no insults for him? No questions? No pleas for freedom or begs for mercy? Was she really just going to stare at him? She hadn't even moved. Her arms were straight at her sides and her fists curled into balls. Her now bare shoulders were squared and her head locked in position. He couldn't even recall seeing her blink. She looked ready for battle.

Hermione's muscles screamed and demanded to relax but she didn't relent and instead only tensed up further. They shook in protest, her knees practically vibrating in fear. She hoped he hadn't noticed. Her eyes throbbed, her lids just wanted to close, but she wouldn't allow them even a blink. She couldn't trust herself to open them again if she did. She kept staring. She watched Malfoy as he sat on his stool and leaned against the stone wall. His hands rested on his thighs, close to his hips. His shoulders sloped down, and his chest was relaxed. There were bags under his eyes and he looked tired. He almost even looked defeated.

After what he figured was about seven minutes, he stood. Hermione tensed even further, preparing herself for any kind of attack, but he only picked up the tray and headed for the door. Hermione waited until she heard the wooden door shut and lock, then just few more moments before she allowed herself to fall to the ground. She tried to lick her lips, but it only brought pain and the metallic taste of blood. Her stiff fingers went to the top of her shirt, where there were three small, decorative buttons. She tugged and pulled at one until it popped loose, then she put it in her mouth. It was something she read about once, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Sucking on a small button, or pebble, or something similar could cause salivation. It was information she never thought she would ever actually have to use. It would work for a short period of time, if only to give her some sense of control and hope, but much longer without water and she wouldn't even have that saving grace.

xxx

The next morning Draco watched the sunrise from the back corner of the gardens. He'd tried to sleep through the night but as dawn neared he gave up and found himself walking the grounds. As much as he loved the home he lived in, he loved the gardens that surrounded it even more. His mother taught him to fly in East Gardens, where there was plenty of open space; and when he was a bit older, his father gave him mock dueling lessons in the Hedge Mazes. In the back, under the fruit trees and next to the fountains, is where he had his childhood lessons. He had learned to swim in the lake further south, and duelled grindylows while pretending they were Aurors. Now that Lord Voldemort occupied his home, the gardens were the only quiet places he could find.

As the sun slowly crept above the horizon, it's rosy hue inched closer and closer toward the manor. Just as the light touched the tops of the roofs Draco heard someone approaching. He straightened his spine, pulled his sleeping robes tighter, and looked up. He saw his mother approaching, still in her own pajamas and robe. Her hair was loose and her face was soft and sympathetic. She stopped short in front of him and held out her hand.

"Come," she said softly. Draco stood and let his mother take his arm. "We will get through this," she began as they walked toward the house. "The same as we always have, the same as we always will." She drew him into an embrace, and for a blissful, fleeting moment Draco was allowed to be a child again.

It wasn't long before the main floor of the house was bustling with people, some he knew, some he didn't. For so much of his life, Malfoy Manor had been a refuge, a private place. But now, as the base of the Dark Lord, the number of strangers who came to pay their respects was staggering. It made him uncomfortable, though he would never think to call it that, to see so many unfamiliar faces in his home. Perhaps it wasn't even his home anymore. By eight, Bellatrix had directed him back to the dungeon with another pitcher of water. He took a moment just outside of the door to the stairwell, steeling himself.

xxx

Hermione both wanted to sleep and didn't. She was beyond exhausted, more emotionally and physically drained than she had ever been before. She knew she would have to rest if she wanted to keep any semblance of sanity, but she also didn't want to leave herself vulnerable if Malfoy decided to be less passive when he returned. If he returned. In order to combat that dichotomy, she'd decided to sleep sitting up against the wall. She hoped that by staying upright she would get some sleep, but not fall into such a deep one that it would leave her susceptible. Her solution proved successful when she bolted awake at the small sound of the iron handle on the door. She stood up, shook her head, and ran her hands over her face. She saw the thin figure descending the stairs and braced herself for whatever was to come. When he stepped out of the shadows and into the room she saw that he again had water. She licked her lips, unaware of the motion. She didn't want to seem excited to see him, but the thought of water… Water which she wouldn't allow herself to drink, anyway. Who knows what they had put into it?

He stepped further into the room and once again set the tray down in front of her. He didn't conjure a stool this time, instead he choose to stand across from her and engage in the staring contest she was bent on having. The leader of a wolf pack will never look away first, he thought. Hermione stood her ground, this was the only way she had to fight back, to prove she couldn't be controlled. She would not lose her will to fight. She stared for as long as she could but she couldn't help herself, couldn't stop herself from looking to the pitcher of fresh, cold water. She watched as a drop of condensation slid effortlessly down the delicate curve of the glass and landed into a puddle at the base. She swallowed and resisted a flinch as her dry throat closed in on itself. She realised she was on the verge of caving and snapped her eyes back up to meet Malfoy's where she saw a hint of a smile hiding behind his lips. He thought she was going to give in. He thought he had won. That was the same face she had heard Harry lament, the subtle smirk Malfoy would make if he thought he was going to catch the snitch first. As she stared, any trace of a smile disappeared and he reached for the tray. The door shut behind him and she let out a breath. She really wasn't going to make it much longer. She knew the average person could only last three, possibly four days at best without water and here she was at day two…? Well, at least on the verge of giving in. She dug into her pocket, pulled out her button, then walked back to the wall. With her back flat against the stone she slid down to sit, letting her hands fall to her sides. Her left pinky knuckle hit a rock, leaving a little scrape. She had no energy to actually do anything about it, so she just started down at her hand and the rock. Her hand and the rock. The rock and her hand. The rock in her hand.

Memories rushed toward the front of her mind, childhood memories of drawing brightly coloured suns and butterflies on the sidewalk with pastel-coloured chalk, then running out and using rocks. She scrambled to turn around and kneel at the wall. There were small rocks digging into her knees, as well as all along the base of the wall. They must have been pieces that had crumbled off over time, and she wondered how many people had been here just like she was now, a victim of the Malfoy family. She picked one up, pressed it into the wall with her fingertip, and pulled down, applying as much strength as she figured she could spare. A small white line appeared. She smiled and moved further into the corner, then closer to the floor, and drew another white line. Then another. Two white lines marking the two times Malfoy had visited her. She almost laughed with relief. If she could keep track of his visits, maybe she could keep some semblance of a schedule and that...that would help her to keep even a little bit of her sanity. Hermione loved control, and pretending she had some while she very clearly didn't was a source of comfort. And she would take any comfort she could get.

xxx

Draco returned the tray to the first house elf he saw, then found the nearest water closet. He scrubbed at his hands and arms frantically. It had been almost a day since her muddy blood had touched his skin, but he swore he could still feel it; taunting him, contaminating him. After a time he felt satisfied and decided to spend a little more time in the gardens. After lunch was served, he considered heading back to his quarters, to retreat into a space he still felt was his own. He stopped short, however, when passing one of the many sitting rooms the manor held. He'd heard his aunt's voice, and a familiar male voice that was not his father's. It was a bit nasally and drawn out. door was just barely cracked open, but he could still see his old Potions Master sitting across from his Aunt Bellatrix.

"You have the girl locked up, I presume?" Snape asked. There was a moment of silence before Bella responded. Draco could feel the resentment in the air and, when she responded, the indignation in her voice. There was no love or friendship of any kind between these two, that he knew. They barely tolerated each other.

"Do you lock up soiled tissue, Severus? Why would I keep a filthy thing like that? No, we've disposed of it."

Snape remained silent and his face remained untouched. Draco's stomach turned on itself, not that he noticed. Granger was dead? She had been alive, even if barely, when he had seen her that morning. Suddenly, Snape's eyes darted over toward the door and Draco remembered that he'd forgotten to shield his mind. He quickly pulled away and started to dash up to his bedroom, fighting the faint urge he had to confirm that she wasn't in the dungeons anymore. However, he was stopped on the stairs by a house elf, whose name he wasn't entirely sure he remembered.

"Poddy was justs wondering, sir, what it is Master Malfoy is wantings to do with this?" The elf kept its eyes and head lowered but raised its hand toward him so as to present a small, purple, beaded bag. Frankly, it looked like it had seen better days; it was clearly missing beads in some places, there were threads hanging from the sides, and it was dotted with what could quite possibly be dragon's blood. "It was belongings to the mudblood girl, sir. Poddy found it in the drawing room." Draco just sneered and snatched the bag before pushing past the elf and continuing on to his room. Once on the other side of the door, Draco flung the bag to the floor, kicking it when it fell in his path. He fell back onto white, silk sheets and stared up at the canopy of curtains that surrounded him. This was a routine he had followed for years, staring into his ceiling for however long it took to clear his head, and yet something was different. It was the knot in his stomach, a knot which was quickly growing into a lead weight.

XXXXX

ahh omg okay so the first chapter is up, i'm so excited for this! i hope you all liked it and i urge you guys to please please please leave comments. i thrive off of feedback! tell me what you thought, what you liked, what you didn't like. what was your favorite line? or part? come on, i'm open to anything!

also, for a sneak peak of chapter two, you can follow the tumblr for this fic, 'captive-fic' .

also also, the bolded bits at the beginning of the chapter are straight from the book, they are not my lines, they are jk's babies.

love you guys, thanks for reading!