A/n: Written for the Pick a List Competition #9 Diffindo, the Pairing Set Boot Camp #49 (Voldemort/Hermione) and the Rivalry Boot Camp prompt #42 (floor).
That Look
She sat tied to the chair, arms sore from the ropes and face damp from sweat and tears. The little lines down her back stung from earlier, and being tightly pressed to a chair only enhanced the pain. But she refused to show fear. She wouldn't let anyone see her cry in that room.
Well, not again. She cracked at one point, but what human didn't? No one was bulletproof. At some point your walls crack, and Hermione's eventually did. Now Voldemort was stalking around her looking for the best way to humiliate her next.
"I wonder what Harry Potter would say if he could see you now Miss Granger," Voldemort said, running his wand across her neck. She shivered. "That is, if he could actually find you. His visions have not yet led him here."
There was a loud roar of laughter from the bystanders, all except for one. Of the people in attendance, only Draco Malfoy looked frightened. The collection of people allowed to stand by and witness her torture was small, and she was certain he was only there for one reason; to see where his loyalties lie. Voldemort wanted to see where Malfoy's priorities would fall now that he'd failed oh so many tasks. Most people would be dead by now.
She kept her lips pressed together, refusing to respond. She wouldn't let this half-man see her break. But she'd learned her lesson in the last few minutes about talking back. If she wanted to remain conscious, she really should avoid being Crucio-d again.
Then again, at this rate maybe she wanted to be unconscious.
He used the diffindo spell to tear her sweater off, which did little good since her top and jumper were shredded from countless spells. She barely even noticed when he did it.
She closed her eyes when the ropes were suddenly undone and some unknown person behind her threw her into the floor. She spat on his shoes, and he in turn kicked her ribs. She rolled away as best she could, glaring up at Voldemort again.
Hermione recognized the sick look in her eyes. She wasn't familiar with it personally, but just ha an inner feeling about what it meant. Placing her head on the floor again, she slammed her eyes shut.
Just kill me now. Let this be over with.
~FIN~
A/n: Short dark story without much plot. Thoughts anyway?