Black Knight, White Queen
Chapter 1: Pawns and Knights
Pawns: The infantry pieces of chess, they are the weakest and the most
numerous. They have limited movements.
Knights: The cavalry of chess, they move differently from every other piece.
They move two spaces in one direction, then one space in the other.
The room which held her was pitch black, with no source of light to be found. The walls were cold and roughly cut stone. The floors were of the same stone, and despite having been smoothed over time they were still damp and equally cold. Hermione had lost track of time since she had been thrown down here, knowing only that food had been brought twice, though at such long intervals that her stomach had spent the majority of the time complaining. It would be a good time to panic, but recent events had left her feeling so numb that she had a difficult time caring one way or another what happened to her now.
All through what would have been her seventh year, Hermione had worked with Harry and Ron to track down and destroy Voldemort's horcruxes. They had been only one horcrux away from being able to defeat him, just the serpent Nagini. Things hadn't gone according to plan though, and the victory had slipped right through their fingers. Now, as she sat in the dark and uncomfortable cell, Hermione had no knowledge of her friends' fate. She could only hope for the best, but assume the worst.
What must have been hours later, Hermione heard the sound of voices coming nearer. A couple sounded vaguely familiar, but without being able to see them she found herself completely unable to identify any. The sound of footsteps stopped nearby, and metal creaked as she heard a heavy door open. A sudden 'lumos' left her momentarily blinded and sent sharp shoots of pain through her eyes.
Her arms were grabbed roughly by two sets of hands and she found herself stumbling along as she was dragged out of the dungeon, down long hallways, and into a dimly lit chamber. It was a long room, elegantly decorated if you took the time to look. The only light came from the fireplace and a few well placed candles. At the head of the room sat a dark figure in a large chair, its face pale and snake-like. It wasn't much of a guess to figure out just who she had been brought before.
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. Her body stood, frozen, as unresponding as her mouth had been. She was still somewhat numb, but no longer immune to fear. She had survived much, but there didn't seem to be an end in sight.
"Ahh..." said Voldemort, his voice harsh and cold. "Miss Granger, isn't it? Potter's bookworm friend? How nice of you to join us. We will enjoy you, but first there is other business. Come forward, young Malfoy."
Managing to turn her head somewhat, Hermione saw the cloaked form of one of those who had carried her up step forward. As they neared Voldemort, their hand reached up and pushed back the hood. There was no mistaking the pale blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, and Hermione's anger strengthened her enough to shake herself free of the other figures that stood with her. "You... you bastard. This is all your fault! You..."
Voldemort's hand twitched briefly and Hermione felt a silencing charm settle over her. Despite the continuing movement of her mouth, further sound refused to come out. The figures behind her renewed their grip more firmly, and she was left with no alternative but to watch the scene in horror.
"You have done well, Draco," said Voldemort, his attention once more on the boy before him. "You have given me the victory I desired and others failed to produce. Now we will begin to reform the magical world as we see fit. Name your reward. It is given."
Draco Malfoy was silent for a moment, as if in contemplation. "My Lord, I wish to have the mudblood Hermione Granger as mine alone, to do with as I see fit. She has caused my unease since I first laid eyes on her, and I wish to even the score."
The serpentine eyes of Voldemort flared in indignation, and his wand hand stiffened, causing Draco to fall writhing to the floor in pain. His screams echoed through the room, rivaling in volume those screams of her friends that were engraved in Hermione's mind. When it finally ended, Voldemort spoke as if nothing unusual had occurred. "You are insolent, young Malfoy, regardless of your accomplishments. Still, you served me well, and so the mudblood is yours. Claim your property."
Draco bowed deeply, taking two steps backwards before turning towards Hermione. His expression seemed pained, but otherwise unreadable. He walked swiftly over to her, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. They left immediately, and though Hermione felt relief from leaving Voldemort's presence, she found her current situation to be no more comforting.
After again wandering through the poorly lit halls of whatever building it was they were in, Draco opened the door to a bedchamber and shoved her roughly on the bed. He cast several charms on the door after closing it, which from what Hermione saw of the wand movements seemed to be locking and silencing charms. He then turned away and began undressing in quick, stiff movements. Had it been under different circumstances, Hermione might have been able to admire the figure she had almost full view of before her. Not to mention had she not known who the figure belonged to. As it was, she was both nervous and angered. It was Malfoy's usual affect on her, just significantly heightened by recent events.
She had gone through being imprisoned by Malfoys before, and she had no more taste for it now than she had before. Granted, now there were no Bellatrix Lestrange and seemingly endless Cruciatus curses, but neither did there seem to be much chance for an escape.
"Malfoy... why did you..." she began. "I mean... what..."
"Tomorrow, Granger. We will talk tomorrow," he said, wincing as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her. As someone who had suffered from the Cruciatus, and at the wand of his own family, Hermione knew the residual pain that he would still be experiencing. She knew ways of soothing that pain too, but couldn't bring herself to offer any aid to someone who had betrayed the Light so terribly.
Hermione got up out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. One look in the mirror and she gasped at her disheveled appearance. Her hair, which was normally bushy and soft, was severely matted and badly in need of a wash. Smudges of dirt adorned her face and arms, and much of her clothing was torn in places. She did what she could with soap and water in the sink, as she didn't feel enough at ease in Malfoy's room to take a shower just yet.
She didn't sleep much that night. Instead she alternated between staring at Malfoy and at the ceiling, her mind replaying the events that had led up to where she was now.
Only days before, Draco Malfoy had come to the Order claiming himself changed. He'd seen enough, he said, and wanted to help defeat Voldemort. Hermione had been one of the first to step forward and offer him a second chance. She'd hated him throughout her years at Hogwarts, resenting his cruelty towards herself and her friends. Still, Hermione had a soft heart, and was willing enough to give anyone another chance. That was a decision that was quickly becoming one of the most foolish she had ever made.
-x-x-x-x-x-
When morning came there was no sunlight shining through the window panes. Those had been covered thoroughly, just like every other window Hermione had seen since coming here. She felt Malfoy begin to rise beside her, then heard a thud on the floor. That would be his muscles locking up, she thought to herself, the still lingering after effects of the Cruciatus. Had circumstances been different, Hermione would have laughed.
As it was, she just looked over at him and did nothing, keeping her expression blank other than a slight widening of her eyes. He stood up quickly enough, apparently well used to the Cruciatus' effects. If he was a frequent recipient of it, Hermione had a difficult time caring. He looked at her strangely for a moment, then spoke.
"You don't have to like the situation, and I'm not going to explain the entire dynamics of it quite yet either. I know you hate me, but you might consider that you don't know everything and you would be a lot worse off had you been given to anyone else among his followers. There were many waiting for the opportunity to ask for you. I've no doubt you'd be alive, but you would very much be wishing you were dead."
Hermione just stared at him, her jaw set in a stubbornly angry expression and her arms crossed over her chest. After a minute he just shook his head and began getting dressed.
Draco left her locked in that room all day, though even she had to admit it was a hundred times better than the dungeon had been. Food and drink were brought to her by the house elves, and Draco had arranged for clothes and books to be brought as well, even a muggle chess board, but the house elves had specific instructions not to converse with her or fulfill even the slightest request that Draco himself had not authorized.
For someone who'd been tortured in the past, and was now the captive of a boy that she despised, Hermione's day went rather well.