Draco slowly walked down the stairs, his Italian shoes looking out of place in the dark, basement.
Pulling his wand out of his back pocket he advanced towards the figure lying stretched out in the corner on the floor.
"Don't try anything Granger or you'll be dead before you can say Mudblood." Draco called threateningly out at her.
Hermione lifted her head to meet his eyes. Her face was bruised and there was dried blood caked on her lips.
Draco stepped forwards, his wand still held towards her. "I'm taking you up to the Dark Lord. He wants to dispose of you. Mudblood."
Hermione slowly pushed herself into an upright seating position. She looked at him, long and hard, her eyes showing no fear, only defiance. "What makes your blood so much better than mine, Draco? It bleeds the same way, it looks the same, and it pumps around our bodies the same." She whispered hoarsely to him. "The difference I guess is that I am willing to fight, and I will not die at the hands of Voldemort. I think I'll go on my own terms."
At that her eyes flashed wildly as she pulled out a knife from behind her and pressed it up against her throat.
Draco could only stare at her with a mixture of shock and horror.
"Watch closely Draco, I think you'll find this blood is no different from anyone else's, and when you die, you will bleed just the same."