Prologue—
They were running as fast as their bodies would allow them to. The woods were speeding by at a surprisingly fast rate. But it was not fast enough. She was the slowest runner, and was therefore the last one to reach the plateau where the port-key lay. The old boot sat there waiting for the moment it would be ripped through space to the Order headquarters. The two boys in front of her spun around to see her running as fast as she could, she was not going to make it in time. With a quick twist, she pulled a small, beaded handbag out of her sock where she had hidden it.
"Here!" she yelled, throwing the handbag as close as she could to them. The raven-haired boy caught it easily; "Go!" she yelled again. At that moment, the boot began to glow with an eerie blue light. Noticing it, the two boys grabbed a hold of the heel, and were spun into space, their last word echoing across the plateau, "Hermione!"
Hermione collapsed from exhaustion, falling onto the leaf-strewn forest floor below. The dark-cloaked men the three had been running from soon caught up to her.
"Damn it! They escaped! We only got the Mudblood!" roared one of them, kicking at the motionless body by his feet.
"We should be lucky we got this one; without her Potter and the Blood-traitor will be helpless. We will have them soon, and the Dark Lord will rule." The cold voice echoed through the trees, "Until then, I have the perfect place for her."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione woke up to find herself in a dark cell, obviously underground in an old castle, or manor. She shuddered, noticing how cold it was in the corner. She shifted slightly catching the attention of the man standing outside her cell.
"Good, you're awake. The Dark Lord has been waiting; he does not like to be kept waiting." The voice was cold and harsh; reminding her of the night Dumbledore had been killed. A single tear slid down her face at the memory of the smiling old man. The man outside her cell noticed and sneered, then pulled her roughly from the ground to her feet, pulling her out of the small cell. She noticed her wand was not with her. The thought of these men rummaging through her clothes to find her wand repulsed her, and she tried hard to think of something else.
"Don't even try to run, you won't get far anyway." The man stated, realizing that she was looking around for a way to escape. He strode quickly with her in front of him, his wand digging into her back. She tried to remember her path through the manor, but the twists and turns quickly confused themselves in her normally clear mind. Finally, they came to their destination.
The dining room was cold and occupied only with a long table. An elaborate throne stood at one end, and she glared at it with disgust. The rest of the chairs were filled with black-robed men and women, although men mostly dominated the table. Finally, the man, if he could be called such, who had captured her there, appeared with a swish of black robes he sat down on the throne, his snake sliding onto his shoulders. 'One of the two horocruxes left' she thought.
The man absent-mindedly stroked the top of his snakes' head, staring at her intensely. She could feel the tendrils of his mind reaching for hers. She quickly threw up defenses around the perimeter of her mind, hoping they would be strong enough to evade him. Her effort was rewarded when his countenance turned into one of surprise, then anger. The tendrils redoubled their effort, throwing themselves against Hermione's mind.
The men and women sitting at the table watched their Lord with anticipation, normally it did not take this long before he had information to give them from the prisoners mind. This was not normal. Finally, the tendrils stopped their attack, but Hermione continued to hold her defensive walls up.
Then he started laughing. It was a cold hard laugh that echoed a cold, hard heart, but a laugh none-the-less. "Never before, Miss Granger, have I found someone that could withstand my attack like that. Quite impressive." Hermione glared at him, fire burning behind her eyes. He met her glare with an equally harsh one of his own, causing Hermione to look away. "Yes, I believe you will need more work to uncover your secrets. Bellatrix."
"Yes my Lord?"
"She is all yours. Do what you will, but do not kill her. We may need her to lure Potter."
"Of course my Lord, I will uncover her secrets yet!"
"My Lord," Voldermort turned to look at Lucius Malfoy with an amused expression.
"Yes Lucius?"
"I was wondering if after Bellatrix is done with her. What punishment would be more humiliating to a head-strong girl like her than to be a slave worse than a house-elf for a Pureblood family?"
"You are asking for her after her punishment?"
"Yes my Lord."
"Very well, if she is still sane you may have her; although she must not be killed. Potter will definitely come for his Mudblood now." He laughed once again and strode out through the double doors. The rest of the Death-Eaters followed soon after.
"Come pet, we have much to do, and so little time to do it." Bellatrix purred as she painfully grabbed Hermione's arm; digging her fingernails into the skin and dragging her further into the house.
Minutes later Hermione's tortured screams filled the house.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione was soon found in the Malfoy household, serving, as Lucius promised, the Malfoys' as worse than a house-elf. She absent-mindedly rubbed her left arm where the word MUDBLOOD was scrawled across it, her only lasting physical scar from her torture with Bellatrix.
Suddenly the back of her neck began to burn, a sign that her masters needed her. The day after she arrived, she had been branded on the back of the neck with the Malfoy family crest. It would begin to burn whenever the Malfoys needed her.
Rising from the floor of the kitchen closet, where she slept when she could, she began to walk out into the large house. After a few weeks, she had memorized the layout of the house, and probably knew it better than its owners.
She was not the same Hermione she had been before; she had changed mentally. Her almost daily punishments handed out by Lucius had changed her. She had learned quickly to not speak out of turn, and now she spoke only when it was necessary. The abuse had taken its toll on her mind as well, she was extremely fearful of everyone, especially men. Overall, Hermione Granger was broken.
She followed the memorized path up to Mrs. Malfoy's room on the fifth floor. Halfway there, at the mouth of a passageway that went from the third floor to the fifth, she heard the voices of Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Parkinson, whose voice reminded her of Pansy, but in a more masculine way.
"Have the spies found out any new information John?" Mr. Malfoy spoke in a whisper, and Hermione had to strain to hear; where were some extendable ears when you needed them?
"Not yet, but we seem close. Shouldn't we be having this conversation somewhere else Lucius? Somewhere more private? I heard you had the Mudblood of the Golden Trio here. Wouldn't she try to tell any information we have to the Potter boy?" Hermione could just picture Mr. Parkinson's eyes darting around, looking into the shadows for her form.
Lucius laughed, a cold harsh sound, "No, I have asked Narcissa to have the Mudblood draw her up a bath. That should take care of her, and none of the house elves are stupid enough to try and repeat information to anyone."
Mr. Parkinson seemed to have nodded his head as the conversation continued.
"Have you heard? The Dark Lord has gotten the Elder Wand. He was telling Dolholv only yesterday—"
Hermione did not need to hear anymore. She ran through secret corridor after corridor, her bare feet making almost no noise on the heavy carpet. Eventually she reached the door to the back gardens. Hesitating, she examined the route to the owlery; it was completely open, with almost nothing to use for hiding spots.
Realizing that the longer she waited, the more of a chance someone would see her; she darted as fast as she could to the large brown building by the edge of the property. Finally, she reached it, pulling out a small piece of paper and inkbottle, as well as part of a broken quill; she hurriedly scribbled a note to Harry, recalling all that she had overheard.
She was just about to tie it onto the leg of the nearest bird when a pale hand shot out and grasped her forearm. She whirled around, fear etched onto her face; it was Lucius.
"You know, I always hate it when someone is right and I am not, even more so when it happens to be a guest. John Parkinson always seemed to be excessively paranoid, but this time, it might have saved us quite a bit of trouble." His eyes gleamed with hatred; this would not be good, Hermione could already see it coming.
Lucius pushed Hermione backwards, causing her to stumble and fall onto the floor. Pulling his wand out of his pocket he aimed it at Hermione who cringed into the wall, expecting what was coming.
"Crucio!"
Hermione cried out as pain went searing down her body. Finally, the pain stopped, and she looked up to find Mr. Malfoy glaring at her.
"We must make sure that this won't happen again won't we Mudblood." Hermione glared at him, anger and fear showing in her eyes, "Aures Silentium!"(A/N: Ears be silenced)
Hermione cried out as she recognized the spell, but it was too late; there was nothing she could do. All she could do was listen as her world was plunged into silence.