Author's Note: Welcome to my story The Dragon's Den! This is the prologue and is therefore quite short. The following chapters will be a bit longer, but not excessively so! I will try to update regularly if possible. Yes, there will be some romance going on, but it will be progressing quite slow! I don't want to rush things ;) Hermione and Draco aren't exactly the best of friends, and the situation they find themselves in is not exactly ideal for feelings to blossom. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And reviews are always welcome :)

Update: Thanks to Stupefyshy for pointing out that the formatting was off! It should be fixed now.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, their backstory or this wonderful world of magic!

Chapter 1: Prologue

A jolt of pain went through her body, instantly waking her up. The room she found herself in was completely shrouded in darkness, but she could feel the presence of someone standing very close. She could feel the cold emanating from the hidden figure.

Hermione could tell that the person was a dark witch or wizard, just from the faint dark magic oozing from him or her. The person moved lightly across the floor, away from the girl that was chained to the cold stone wall in the Malfoy Manor's dungeon.

Hermione heard a faint click, and an orb of light flew towards her left and into a lantern on a small round table in the corner of the room. The light burnt in her eyes. She had been in the dark for weeks, or even months, she couldn't tell.

Trying to ignore the sharp pain that suddenly entered her body again, she lifted her eyes to the woman standing in front of her. There was no mistaking the dress and the black curls of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her crazy eyes and evil grin told her everything she needed to know.

The woman was excited about something. This was the first time Hermione got to see her torturer ever since Harry and Ron had managed to escape. She knew they would come for her, and a part of her hoped they would. The other part of her knew that if they did, the war would end. And not with the result that they all hoped for. Keeping her trapped in the manor was intentional.

They kept her alive because they knew her friends would try to save her.

At least there was a comfort in knowing that she would not be killed, at least not yet, as they still had a use for her. So far she had been kept mostly to herself, living off a mixture of water and raw eggs fed to her by a house elf once a day. It was disgusting, but it did keep her alive.

Every other evening someone would come in and ask questions about Harry's movements, his plans and about the order. More often than not they would crucio first, and ask questions later. Sometimes she would even get a round of torture without the questions. She figured they either used her torture sessions as a sport or to train the weaker death eaters. Luckily her mind was still intact.

She also figured they would want to keep her sane for the time being, as she did sit on information that might be valuable to Voldemort. Why they hadn't used veritaserum on her yet, she didn't know. They did have Snape on their side after all.

The Half Blood Prince.

One of the greatest potion masters of the century. Maybe he was too busy running Hogwarts. Or maybe running was the wrong word to use. According to the radio programme that Ron had been listening to, Snape was barely ever seen. He mostly kept to himself, letting the Carrows do all the dirty work. What he was up to was hard to tell, but he was certainly not brewing veritaserum for the Dark Lord.

Hermione's thoughts snapped back to reality as she felt cold fingers grabbing her chin, lifting her head to face their owner's face. The dark eyes of Bellatrix stared into her own brown orbs, sending shivers through her body. That's when she noticed what the woman was holding up in front of her. The deluminator. "Recognise this, mudblood?"

No.

It couldn't be.

She was positive that Ron had the deluminator with him when they escaped with Dobby. She could faintly remember it. She had been kept in the drawing room as the boys had been sent down to the dungeons after Bellatrix found the Sword of Gryffindor in her beaded bag. Ron had the deluminator on his person. She was absolutely sure. Had they come for her? Had they been captured?

Her eyes closed as her thoughts moved to Ron. Sweet, warm and stupid Ron. He couldn't be dead. She forced that thought out of her head and made herself open her eyes again. "Your little boyfriend didn't have a chance against the snatchers we sent after him," the woman in front of her chuckled. Hermione suppressed the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes as a lump started to form in her chest.

She had to keep sane. The woman was just testing her, she was sure. She had to be. "Now, he didn't last very long, unfortunately." She moved away from Hermione's face, twirling the deluminator between her long, pale fingers. "We weren't able to extract all the information we wanted."

Her light footsteps moved her towards the door. "I will be back soon, Miss Granger."

As the door closed behind her, the light went out again. Hermione was left with her greatest fear. They had been caught. It was all over. They wouldn't have any more use for her now. She would be killed at any time now unless they wanted to have even more fun with her.

The thoughts of death felt welcoming compared to the endless torture that awaited her if what Bellatrix had said was true. Then again, she hadn't even mentioned Harry. Had they captured or killed Harry Potter, she still wouldn't be alive, she was sure of it. The small sliver of hope was not much to quench her fear, but it kept her from wanting to die just yet. Which she supposed was a good thing. And after all, she didn't know if Ron had been killed, it was just an assumption. Or maybe more a deduction from what she had been told.

It wasn't as if she could trust Bellatrix to tell the truth, but at the same time, she did have the deluminator. And she knew there was only one of those in the whole world. Dumbledore's own creation, given to Ronald Bilius Weasley in his last will and testament. That item meant a great deal to Ron. It had shown him the way back to her, and to Harry, the way back to himself.

Her wrists were aching. She couldn't tell for sure, but she had a feeling that the metal of the chains had dug into her skin. The pain was still present, but she was oblivious to it. She wasn't able to shut it out, quite the contrary, but she had almost gotten used to the sensation. Now it was almost just an annoyance. Just like a fly buzzing around in your bedroom at night, keeping you awake. Every time you are about to fall asleep, the buzzing re-appears.

Just like the pain in her body re-appeared just as she was almost about to relax. Relaxation had become a stranger to her. The closest she could get to rest was the blackouts that her torture sessions sometimes provided her with.

She heard a scream from somewhere outside the door to her cell. It sounded like a man. She could tell it was the scream of a victim of the cruciatus curse. It stung in her ears, and she closed her eyes once more. She just had to keep going. If Harry was still out there, there was still a chance that this would be over. Even if it would take years, she would not give herself up as long as there was just a sliver of hope.

Two hours later, the screams from the other cell had finally died out, most likely due to the victim losing consciousness, and her door opened once more. Again there was the soft click of the deluminator, and the room was lit once more.

Bellatrix skipped into the room, almost joyfully, her hand resting on the doorframe as if she was waiting for someone else to join them. And just behind her, with hesitating steps, walked no other than Draco Malfoy. He was paler than usual, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn't slept for days, and an expression she had never seen on his face before.

Calm.

His usual expression, from what she remembered from school, had been either a mocking smirk, a sneer or a face filled with cowardice. But this face had been ribbed of all emotion. It wasn't even cold, it was simply empty.

The last time she had seen his face had been the day she had been captured by the snatchers together with Harry and Ron, all those days, weeks or months ago. It was funny how time seemed to lose its grip when one was in captivity. That day his face had been filled with fear. From what she knew, he had spent the year at Hogwarts and had been home for Easter break the day they were captured. Which meant that the current time would have to be the summer holidays.

She had apparently been there for a few months after all. Unless he had been taken out of school for some reason, but there was no reason she could think about.

Her focus shifted back to Bellatrix as the woman started to speak. "Well done, Draco. I see your training with the Dark Lord has finally started to pay off," she said, stroking the young man's hair with her hand. His eyes were fixed on the ground. He refused to look at either of the women in the room. Bellatrix let go of her nephew and swiftly moved towards Hermione, grabbing a fistful of her bushy hair and pulling her head back, revealing her neck to the older woman.

Bellatrix pulled out her wand and slid it from Hermione's collarbone and up to right underneath her chin, sending a small spark of burning pain through it, leaving a red mark. "I am sure you heard the screams, Miss Granger," Bellatrix said, referring to the man Hermione had been forced to listen to for the previous hours.

"Those screams came from no other than Rowle. Do you remember him? Apparently, you did some nice handiwork with his memory. Luckily, the Dark Lord has figured out a way to penetrate the subconscious of someone who has been obliviated, through torture." She gave a snicker, as she lowered her wand from Hermione's throat. She leaned in closer to the girl and whispered into her ear: "and that gave us the opportunity to use him for some training. The Dark Lord has decided that his servants need to learn his tricks. It would be more effective that way, don't you agree?"

She moved away from Hermione again, leaning herself on her nephew's shoulder. "Draco here has been hand plucked by the Dark Lord himself! He has been personally tutored by our Lord ever since you arrived here three months ago. Who need NEWT's when you can be the Dark Lord's favourite?" Hermione sensed a hint of jealousy in her voice but chose to ignore it. At the same time, she seemed ecstatic that her nephew had been chosen for private lessons with the Dark Lord.

"The Dark Lord is, unfortunately, forced to leave for a few weeks and has left me in charge of our dear Draco's tutoring for the time being. And since you are my favourite little project, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity! He has complained about you ever since he set his foot in Hogwarts, after all."

Hermione closed her eyes. Draco Malfoy, the boy that had hated her, even wanted her dead, for seven years, was now given the opportunity to torture her whenever he wished, using whatever methods necessary.

He would try to break her.

He would do anything to please his aunt, his father and most of all Voldemort. He hated people like her.

Muggle-borns.

Mudbloods.

And there was no denying what she was now, as it was carved into her forearm. A mark cursed never to completely heal or fade. A constant reminder that she was not good enough, that she was not welcome in this society, in this magical, wonderful world.

This world belonged to the purebloods now. It belonged to Voldemort and his followers.

No matter how bright of a witch she was, no matter how hard she worked to fit in, she would never be equal. That was something she truly knew now. She knew she would never be accepted completely. Even if the war was won, even if Voldemort would die, she would still be an outcast. She would still be inferior to those who knew what she was.

"Go on, Draco. Show me what you have been taught."