Draco didn't remember falling unconscious but a psychotic laugh forced his eyes to unwillingly open wide enough to see the most sickening sight. Fuck he was dead. Well worse than dead because he had only seen that look on his Aunts face only a few times and the reasons were vile enough to make a person physically heave. She came and sat down on the empty chair to his left.
'Your very lucky, Draco.' Smirked Bella, 'The Dark Lord has decided to spare you.'
Draco sharply turned to look directly at his Aunt. But then, wincing in pain, had to shut his eyes remembering the earlier spells cast on him.
'See, something very incredible has happened whilst you've been dozing. Something so unbelievable, M'lord has reconsidered his earlier request of your disposal. He was adamant you were to die and I was adamant I would do it. But he has something even better for you to do. To earn back his trust. To show your undying devotion to his cause.' Bellatrix continued, her voice quieting as she edged closer to his ear.
As she carried on her speech, his heart began to sink lower and lower until he literally felt like he was sinking into the ground.
'Go on then, I know you are dying to tell me, you're literally on the edge of your fucking seat.' Draco said dryly.
'We got her. We got the famous mudblood. Here right this second in the dungeons below.'
His eyes widened, but then confusion washed over him.
'What the fuck has-'
'What has this got to do with you?' Bellatrix cut in sweetly. 'Well you are going to stay down there with her, until you have got every piece of knowledge from that big bushy head of hers.'
Draco felt he was going to be sick. Living in the same place as a mudblood, shitting in the same place as a mudblood, breathing in the same air as a mudblood. And not just any mudblood, know it all, unbearable to spend longer than five minutes with, Granger. Fuck. At least he was actually decent at getting the information he needed. A couple of rounds of torturing and she will be begging for a release. A few days tops and Draco's punishment would be over. A hint of a smile crossed his face, think of the satisfaction of torturing Granger.
Bellatrix noticed the smile shadowing Draco's featured and her sadistic grin grew. He had no idea.
'Did I not say? Oh, silly me… without magic.'
Some people find the cold comforting. An excuse to wrap up in warm jumpers and in blankets and snuggle up on a large comfy armchair right next to the fire. But not Hermione. No, she has never been a fan of the cold or the rain. It was depressing and filled the air with melancholy. And she especially despised the cold when all she was wearing was some old rotten rag that had probably been in a rubbish bin for well over a decade and slumped uncomfortably in the corner of an ancient iron barred cell. They didn't even have glass in the windows, every screams and cries of the wind flew right through that hole in the wall. They'd be lucky if they even got to torture her, hypothermia might strike first, Bloody idiots.
Hermione was resting her head on the stone floor, it was a more appealing option that the blood stained wall. The stench was unbearable, like a dozen people were lying dead beneath the floor, rotting away slowly. Think of a plan, Hermione, think.
Where was her killer brain when she needed it. She needed to stay calm and collected. Panicking never helped situations like these and she needed to think fast.
Step One, Where was she? Most dungeons look similar to the next. To narrow it down it had to be a purebloods mansion. No one else could afford to have a dungeon.
Step Two, Who? Well she knew the few main families working closely with Voldermort. Would it be any of them? Well the Notts were out of the question, her rebellion destroyed their house only last month. Zabini's are a possibility, but the house is in Italy, she didn't remember using the port key. That leaves the last family. Bollocks.
The Malfoys.