Disclaimer: This world belongs to the fantastic JK Rowling. I hope she'll forgive me for putting her characters in such terrible situations!

Warning: There is some semi-graphic torture in this, as well as discussion of things like rape and abuse. Please don't read if that will offend you!


Chapter 1

How had this happened?

Hermione tried desperately to remember where she'd been, how they'd taken her. They'd gotten into the Department of Mysteries…She remembered that horrible room with the brains, with the archway, and then the one with the glass orbs. Harry had taken the one with his name on it, then…

Then what? The Death Eaters had appeared, apparently. She vaguely remembered running, fighting, throwing spells behind her as they tried to escape. But somehow, she'd been caught. What did that mean? Had everyone been captured? God, if the Death Eaters had captured Harry…they'd failed. He was integral to the war, she knew it. If Voldemort got him, he'd have no chance at all. Which means they'd have no chance at all.

But no.

Harry was important. Too important to leave with the Death Eaters. The Order would be here, they would come to rescue him, and she'd get out as well. They couldn't possibly be so isolated that the Order couldn't find them, could they? Voldemort was too showy for a hidden torture cabin in the woods. He'd be at one of his followers' manors, and the Order would find out which one in no time. She just had to be patient.

Damn it!

If only they hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries. Sirius wasn't there, she remembered that clearly enough. It had been an ambush. It had been all for nothing.

She felt a rush of anger in thinking about the pointlessness of their mission. God, if Harry had only listened to her! She'd tried so hard to get him to see reason, and he'd dismissed her as scared, uncaring, cold. He hadn't said it exactly, but she knew he'd only seen her as a nuisance to his plans, had been angry at her for getting caught by Umbridge, when she'd only been trying to do the responsible thing and check if Sirius was at Grimmauld Place. Well, if they both got out of this alive, he would be very sorry for not listening to her.

She looked around, resolving to think about how to give Harry a piece of her mind when she was in a less dangerous situation.

A large, dingy, badly lit room. Basement? Dungeon? That would fit with her manor theory. There was nobody else here that she could see, and no bathroom or food.

Great. She hoped someone would come before she had to reduce herself to peeing in a corner.

What would they do with her? Would they torture her for information on Harry?

Hermione sniffled, suddenly realizing how serious her predicament was. She was already bruised all over from the Department of Mysteries. She wasn't sure she could withstand torture. But then again, she didn't know anything too important…Would they realize quickly and leave her alone?

Or kill her. That was a distinct possibility, too.

Bugger. Where was the bloody Order? How long had she–

Hermione shrieked as a gate clanged open a few feet ahead of her, and a second later the dark room was filled with light.

"Ah, Miss Granger."

It was Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione got up quickly, determined to face him standing up, but collapsed with a yelp as she put weight on her left foot.

"Oh, yes," Malfoy chuckled. "A present from Antonin Dolohov. I told him to be gentle when he dropped you off in here, but he was in a bit of a hurry. I'm sure you understand, busy girl like you."

She said nothing, breathing heavily and clutching her ankle.

"Tell me, Granger, would you like me to heal it for you? All you have to do is ask."

He said it pleasantly, almost as if offering tea, but the phrase sounded like something black and slimy crawling into her ears. She was sure there was some dark insinuation hidden in the words.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked instead of answering, her voice angry and firm. "The Order will come for him if you don't let him go. They're probably on their way right now."

He chuckled again, a low, dark sound from the back of his throat. "Oh, how little regard you have for your own worth, my dear."

"I don't know anything!" She said, annoyed.

"I do hope you're justified in your self-deprecation," The man said quietly, smiling strangely. "You see Granger, Potter isn't here. I do wish we'd gotten the chance to take him, but as you say…Your precious friend is too important to the Order," He paced around a bit, still smiling. "It would be far to dangerous to bring him here, knowing those do-gooders would do everything to find him. We'd rather hoped to kill him on the spot."

Hermione sucked in a frightened breath. Was he telling the truth? She hadn't even really considered that Harry might not be here. If he wasn't…Would they still come for her? And wait, what did he mean they'd hoped to kill him on the spot? Had they? Oh God…

"Not to worry, Granger, unfortunately your little paramour escaped unscathed. You, however, are stuck here. Seems you weren't important enough to protect very well, hmm?"

"They-they'll still come for me," She said haltingly.

"Oh will they?" He stopped, smirking at her. "You seemed so sure a moment ago that they'd only rush for Potter…Which means that if they do come, it'll take a while. You see, the Order is in mourning. I'd be surprised if they've even noticed their pet Mudblood is gone."

Malfoy shrugged and examined his nails, so nonchalant one would think he dealt with hostages daily.

He really might, she reminded herself.

But God, in mourning? Mourning for whom?

"What are you talking about? Nobody died."

"On the contrary, my dear. Your mutt Sirius Black met his end just a few minutes before Dolohov took you," He grinned now, as if relishing at the memory.

Sirius? No. No, he wouldn't even have been there! "You're lying. Sirius wasn't even there!"

"Oh, but he was. No matter. He's of no consequence to me, but as I understand it your friend Potter was quite attached to the dog."

Oh Merlin…if this was true, it was certain that Harry was a wreck. Would they even notice she was gone?

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Now, now dear. Don't dwell on it. Grief is the last thing that will help you now," Lucius said mockingly.

He turned around and strode away, plunging them into darkness once more with a flick of his wand.

"Take some time to collect yourself. You'll have some more visitors in a few hours."

"Wait!" She shouted quickly, drawing herself up to her knees. "The restroom. Am I not even to be allowed use of the loo?"

Malfoy paused. "Why, certainly. How silly of me." He waved his wand and a porcelain chamberpot clattered down next to her. "Close by, for your convenience. I know that ankle is paining you. A house elf will be around to empty it…Sometime."

He left.


Hermione was left alone with her thoughts and tears for another few hours. It was hard to keep track of the time down here, but she'd wager it had been at least two since Malfoy had come to see her…Which meant she was due for another visit any minute now.

She couldn't believe Sirius was dead. How was it possible? He wasn't even supposed to leave Grimmauld Place! Had he really been captured, and been there all along, hidden by the Death Eaters?

It was torture, not knowing for sure. Hermione couldn't know if Harry was here, either. Malfoy said he wasn't, and she'd think that if they'd managed to kill or capture Harry Potter he'd be gloating about it, but there was no way to know for certain.

Sirius, dead…She couldn't imagine how Harry must be feeling. The only family he had left, just like he'd told her…Gone. He must be so devastated.

But along with those melancholy thoughts came a rush of anger. It was terrible if Sirius had really been murdered, but could that really mean nobody noticed she was gone? Why weren't they here yet? It had been hours. Certainly when they all got out of the Department of Mysteries someone would notice she was gone. Maybe not Harry, in his grief for Sirius, but at least Ron! Or one of the adults, how could they neglect to ask if Hermione had come with them?

It hurt to think that they might not care enough to notice she was gone.

God, and what would they do with her here? Obviously they didn't care about hurting her, if her ankle was anything to go by. She probably hadn't even been conscious, and still Dolohov had had no qualms about throwing her on the ground like a sack of potatoes, breaking her ankle in the process. But would they really hurt her? Torture her? Hermione had difficulty acknowledging it. She was just a student, a kid – they wouldn't hurt her too badly! And it was Lucius Malfoy, not one of the crazy, Azkaban-escaped Death Eaters. He had been creepy when he'd visited her, but not violent. Malfoy was a smarmy, pompous git, that was certain, but he didn't seem like the type to hurt or torture her. She went to school with his son! Granted, both he and his son hated her and her kind with a passion, but she had a hard time believing a parent of her classmate – any classmate – would really turn his wand on her. It was just too surreal a thought.

Oh, but who would these visitors be? She shuddered at the thought that she might face You-Know-Who himself. Surely he wouldn't care enough about her to come right? Gryffindor as she might be, facing Voldemort was certainly something she didn't feel even remotely brave enough to do. How had Harry handled it? She was scared just contemplating the possibility.

The gate clinked open once more, and she stiffened. She couldn't even stand up! Hermione wished she'd swallowed her pride and apprehension and asked Malfoy to fix her ankle for her before things got too bad. What if she got a chance to escape and couldn't even run?

"Hello, lovely."

Two men walked into the dungeon, lighting the torches as they walked. One she recognized as Dolohov – his picture had been in the Daily Prophet, and she distantly remembered dueling him at the Department of Mysteries. Obviously she'd lost – and badly; he didn't have a scratch on him. Her spirits sank at the realization. Somehow she'd feel better if she'd at least gotten in one good injury before he'd captured her, but no. She'd been that easy to beat. God, how stupid she'd been to think that a silly little Defense group would be enough to teach her to battle dark wizards.

The other man she didn't know, but he was tall – taller than Dolohov, if a little less strong looking. He'd been the one to speak, and now he was leering at her, a few feet away from where she was sitting. "Granger, is it?" He asked. "What a pleasure. Really, it is."

"And who are you?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound fearless.

He chuckled. "It's none of your business who I am, girlie. We'll be asking all the questions while you're here, and you'd do well to remember that."

She said nothing, turning her eyes on Dolohov instead.

The man looked bored to be there, and strangely enough it made Hermione feel a little better. Surely he'd feel something, either apprehension or glee, if they were here to torture her.

"It doesn't matter if she knows your name, Macnair," He drawled. "She won't exactly have a chance to share it with anyone."

Oh, God.

There were others outside the door now.

"Really Lucius, I don't have time for your games," A voice said lazily. "The Order has requested my presence and you know the Dark Lord has ordered me to remain available to Dumbledore in order to ward off suspicion."

Snape! Yes! Yes! She was saved. Hermione couldn't believe she hadn't thought of him at once. Of course he'd be here! He was a double agent, even if he couldn't save her right away he'd get back to the Order and tell them where she was! She'd be out of here by the end of the day. The thought made her almost giddy with determination. She could handle a few more hours – it didn't matter what they did, she could handle it knowing she'd be out of there so soon. She had to.

"Oh, you'll want to see this, Severus, I promise you. I've got quite a treat for you."

They walked into view and Hermione fought the urge to sigh in relief when she saw the familiar face of her Potions teacher.

She said nothing, though. She didn't trust herself not to say something that would blow his cover or put him in any danger, and Snape was more important than anyone to the Order – second only to Harry himself.

"Granger," Snape raised an eyebrow. His face was carefully blank, but Hermione could swear she'd seen a flicker of surprise in his eyes. So he hadn't known she'd been taken then? Damn it.

He looked back at Malfoy. "Honestly, Lucius. A Hogwarts prefect. Could you possibly have picked anyone more risky and less useful? They'll be looking for her soon enough if they aren't already, and I doubt she has anything of worth to tell you."

Hermione didn't know whether to feel insulted or grateful that he was berating them for kidnapping her.

"Oh, I didn't pick her," Malfoy shrugged. "Dolohov did. Though I agree with his taste. She is quite pretty, in a swotty sort of way, isn't she?" He looked her up and down. "If nothing else, she'll be some entertainment."

Her eyes widened. What?!

Snape just sniffed. "I don't see the appeal."

"Really, Severus?" Malfoy turned to him, smirking. "A pretty, intelligent, Gryffindor mudblood. If your history's anything to go by, she's perfect for you. And friends with a Potter to boot. It's like history repeating itself," He chuckled.

Huh? What was he talking about?

She could see Snape's fists opening and closing, as if trying to keep himself from attacking Malfoy.

"I'd stop there if I were you, Lucius," He said calmly, if a bit more terse.

"Oh calm down Severus," Malfoy laughed. "We all have our weaknesses."

Hermione inhaled sharply as Macnair stepped closer.

He kicked her injured ankle, earning a loud gasp.

"Aren't you going to greet your professor there, love? Where're your manners?"

Hermione drew her legs up to her chest and clutched her ankle protectively, keeping her eyes on her knees and trying to stave off tears.

"Hello Professor," She said, her voice shaking.

He didn't answer.

"We thought we'd start by asking her about Potter," Lucius commented casually. "You give us information on the Order, but the Dark Lord is interested in Potter and the boy probably shares with his little friends more than with you. Isn't that right, Granger?"

Hermione said nothing, caught between blatantly lying and admitting that Harry certainly did share more with her than Professor Snape.

"Dolohov, why don't you do the honors? I know how you enjoy it."

What did that mean? She looked at Snape, eyes wide, silently begging for help. His face was blank.

Dolohov stepped closer, stopping right in front of her, and raised his wand, smirking.

Just a few more hours, just a few more hours, just a few more hours.

"Crucio."

He said it so coolly that, had she been capable of thought, Hermione would've questioned how it could possibly hurt her so much.

But it did hurt, terribly. She was faintly aware of falling on her side, screaming as the pain shot through her very bones. It seemed to be everywhere – her back, her toes, her scalp; not one body part escaped the torturous feeling. Like thousands of red-hot daggers searing her skin. It was agony.

Hermione was sure she'd been under for at least five minutes when it finally stopped. She was on her side on the cold dungeon floor, limbs twitching as she curled up into a ball and panted, eyes squeezed shut.

"That wasn't very pleasant, was it, Miss Granger?" Malfoy asked softly.

She ignored him, focusing instead on the coolness of the stone floor and on hugging herself tight enough to stop the twitching.

"Aghh!"

She cried out as someone's boot came into hard contact with her shin.

"You will answer when I talk to you, mudblood," Lucius said, his voice low and deadly. "Or you will pay for your insolence."

"Yes! Alright!" She managed to say desperately, opening her eyes quickly. The light hurt, and she wished they would make it dark again.

"Yes sir."

"Yes sir."

"Now, again. That wasn't a pleasant feeling, was it?"

"No, sir," Hermione answered softly, not meeting his eyes.

"You wouldn't like to feel it again, would you?"

"No, sir," She sniffled. How could they do this to her? What had she ever done to them?

"Good girl. So you'll answer my questions like a good little mudblood, won't you?"

The anger surged back up into her chest and fought to flow out of her lips. How could he call her that so calmly? As if she were nothing – so far beneath him as to be dirt beneath his feet.

He kicked her shin again, harder this time, and she yelped. "I said, you will answer my questions like a good little mudblood, won't you?"

A good little mudblood. No. No, she wasn't as far gone as to degrade herself like this. Her blood was no muddier than his. It was loads better, in fact. She thought of her parents, back at their home in London, and of how good and kind and hardworking they were. God, they were so much better than these people. For the first time, she felt the niggling itch of regret for ever having entered the screwed up, prejudiced world of magic.

He kicked her harder, and this time she fought not to yell – all that came out of her was a pained grunt instead. "Why are you not answering me, mudblood?" Malfoy bent down and hissed the words at her.

Hermione drew in a ragged breath and closed her eyes again.

"I don't respond to that word," She answered coldly, not bothering to look up at anyone.

They were all silent for a long moment, before Malfoy let out a barking laugh and kicked her in the face. Hermione couldn't contain her shriek at this, and before she could even register that pain she was trapped in the agony of a Crucio once more.

She panted harshly when Malfoy finally released the spell, her throat raw from screaming. Even spitting out the blood from his kick was an effort her sore, twitching muscles couldn't make. Instead Hermione moaned, sobbing into the floor and letting the metallic liquid run out the side of her mouth as she buried her face in her arms.

"I will call you what I want to call you, and you will respond," Lucius said viciously. "You are a filthy mudblood whore, and you will be referred to as one. You deserve nothing better."

Hermione did nothing but weep into her arms, the anger she felt at his words diluted by the pain coursing through her body.

"Now, what are you?"

She knew what he wanted her to say, but she wouldn't, she couldn't. She couldn't give him the satisfaction.

"WHAT ARE YOU?" He thundered, kicking her shin once more.

It was too much. She would have to forgive herself later, reason that she hadn't had a choice and that between giving him information on Harry and degrading herself in this way, the latter was the lesser evil. Fuck, why hadn't she just answered his stupid question before? Now she had to go through the added humiliation of acquiescing to his insults.

"A m-mudblood," She sobbed finally.

"That's not all you are, Granger. What are you?"

"Filthy…mudblood…wh-whore," Hermione whispered, hiding her face in the sleeves of her robe. There was no use refusing now.

They're just words, she repeated to herself desperately. They meant nothing.

They laughed at her.

How she hated everyone in this room. She'd like to kill Lucius Malfoy. Slowly and painfully. How foolish she'd been to even consider that they wouldn't torture her.

But wait- she didn't hate everyone in this room. Hermione opened her eyes blearily and looked at her Potions professor. At least he wasn't laughing, but he didn't look to be feeling anything else either. He stared at her impassively.

Hermione fought the urge to talk to him, to beg for his help. Couldn't he do something? Anything! She stared hard at him, willing the man to see the pain and desperation in her eyes.

Lucius' laughter died off to a chuckle.

"It looks like she wants to say something to you, Severus. Won't you join in?"

"You know I don't enjoy this kind of entertainment as much as you do, Lucius," He said simply.

"Oh, come now Severus. You ought to enjoy yourself a bit more. I know she's your student, but surely you can forget that long enough to have a bit of fun with her. She's not so young – how old are you, Granger?"

"S-sixteen," She rasped.

"Sixteen! The perfect age, Severus. I'll even let you have her first."

"Oh? And how will I justify raping one of his favorite students to Dumbledore?" He asked coolly.

Hermione wanted to scream. She was still here! Couldn't they at least discuss how they'd next torture her in the other room?

She tuned out the rest of their conversation. She could think of nothing worse than being forced to give up her virginity to Severus Snape. How could he let them do these things to her? Wasn't he with the Order? He had to say something, anything, to convince them to let her go! How could he just stand there and talk about raping her, witness them torturing her as if watching a boring movie?

"I trusted you," She gritted out before she could stop herself.

Hermione didn't look up, but she could feel that they'd all stopped talking to look at her.

"What was that, Granger?" Lucius stepped closer.

"I trusted you," She whispered again after a beat. "I-I defended you, to Ron and Harry…Everyone thought…But I trusted you," She hiccupped, looking straight ahead at their feet and speaking slowly and haltingly as she fought through the pain in her head.

"D'you hear that, Severus?" Lucius asked gently, reaching down to stroke her hair. Hermione had to stop herself from spitting on his pale hand. "Such loyalty. Here I thought you weren't well-liked by your students."

"Miss Granger has always been hopelessly idealistic in addition to the usual Gryffindor stupidity. It doesn't surprise me she would romanticize even her least favorite teacher," Snape shrugged.

"Yes," Malfoy chuckled. "I remember hearing about a crusade against house elf abuse from Draco. Ah, innocence…"

They all laughed again.

Hermione gritted her teeth in anger. The pain in her head was worse than ever, and she wondered if they'd given her a concussion or if it was simply a side effect of the Cruciatus.

They were mocking her. He was mocking her, all while he was supposed to be on their side, was supposed to be helping the Order, was supposed to have Dumbledore's complete trust. How could they have been so wrong?

"Come now, Severus, join in!" Lucius urged, still laughing. "She already despises you, why not make it worth your while?"

"Lucius, I told you I've no time for your little games," Snape was turning away now. "You know the longer I stay here the more difficult it will be to hide from Dumbledore that I know of the girl's whereabouts."

So he wouldn't tell them. He was her only hope, and he wouldn't tell anyone she was here. Hermione swallowed her desperate scream, her begging to be released, knowing it would only earn more laughter from her captors. It seemed her entire body was shaking in her rage and hate for Severus Snape rather than in aftershock of the torture. Lucius Malfoy and all these other cronies could go free, for all she cared. He was the one she'd like to kill.

"You fucking bastard," She whispered, tears tracking down her blood-smeared face. "Traitor…I hate you," She was sobbing now, unable to stop herself even though it made the pounding in her head even worse. "I hate you."

The last thing she heard was the familiar voice of her Potions teacher, as menacingly calm as it ever was.

"Crucio."


Well, there it is! I hope you all enjoyed it. This is my first fanfic, so I'd love it if you'd let me know your thoughts and suggestions. I have the first few chapters written, and will be uploading the next one in a day or so after I've finished tidying it up. There's some Snape POV in it, but I think this story will mostly be from Hermione's point of view.

Thank you for reading!