Chapter 2

There was someone moaning nearby. Whether it was a child or an adult, Hermione didn't know; she had discovered that the two didn't sound so different when subjected to pain.

Eyes still squeezed shut, she bit the inside of her cheek and gathered her strength to shift her position on the hard, stone floor. As she did so, the chains encircling her wrists and ankles clinked ever so slightly, and the noise itself was enough to make her flinch. She didn't know how long she had been locked up. Days and nights passed in much the same fashion inside her cell, and now she found that she could no longer tell them apart. Due to all the activity going on in the aisle, though, she assumed it was daytime. The Death Eaters would be making their rounds soon enough, and Hermione tried her best to snuff out the fear that suddenly clutched at her heart like an icy fist.

"Hermione?"

She flinched again, startled by the sound of her own name. This was a new habit of hers, and it wasn't one that she was proud of. However, she regained her composure and allowed a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan to slide through her lips in response, now aware that the person who had uttered it was not a threat.

"I hear you, but you've got to give me a bit more than that," Justin Finch-Fletchley whispered, his chains clinking as he moved in the cell adjacent to Hermione's.

More? More than what?

A sense of helplessness suddenly grabbed hold of her, and her brow furrowed as she tried to ascertain what he wanted. If he wanted her to speak, which was probably the most likely, she didn't know if she could grant him that request. She could barely open her eyes let alone her mouth, and forming words was already seeming like an impossible feat. If he wanted her to move – if he wanted her to shift sideways a few feet and meet him at the hole in the prison wall that separated them – he was going to be sadly disappointed. Hermione's entire body felt heavy and limp; she was a wet noodle, and it felt as though a great weight was keeping her pinned to the floor. She was not unfamiliar with this feeling, but after the events that had occurred the day before – or at least she assumed it had been the day before – it seemed as though the feeling had intensified tenfold.

Drawing in a shaky, rattling breath, Hermione forced out another nondescript sound, hoping that was enough for Justin as her mind wandered to the previous day, struggling to keep a grasp on what exactly had taken place.

She recalled lying on her side in much the same fashion as she was now, and the creak of her cell door echoed in the back of her mind, causing a violent chill to wrack her from the inside out.

"Haven't seen this picture before, have we?" Bellatrix Lestrange mused, and her bone-chilling giggle was accompanied by a deeper one that was just as equally disturbing. Hermione did not know the man with Bellatrix at first; he was extremely tall, and she could tell that he was heavily-muscled even though he was draped in a set of fine black robes. He had dark hair that gave way to a beard and mustache of the same color, and both were perfectly trimmed. What his physique suggested, though, was far from the man he actually was. Intimidating? Yes. An intelligent man who had earned his wealth through hard work? Hardly.

"Well, don't be shy, 'Dolphus," Bellatrix said, caressing her husband's arm before giving it a tiny, playful shove. "I told you you'd enjoy this one."

"It doesn't look like it'd be much fun," Rodolphus finally said, tilting his head and studying Hermione intently through a pair of vicious green eyes. Still, he moved forward nonetheless and crouched in front of her, and Hermione took note of the end of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his robes. Something suddenly told her that he was covered with them.

"Shall we play a little game? Hm?" he growled, tapping his wand on his knee. "Bella says you escaped once...It's a shame that that won't happen again, don't you think?"

Something stirred inside Hermione at that moment. She longed to strike out at him, to kick him, hit him, or even spit at him, but all she could do was shake her head and squeeze her eyes shut. Things were different now. She did not have anyone to rescue her anymore, and while she would have loved to rescue herself, she had learned by now that that was nothing but a dream. There was no one who would be able to put a stop to whatever Bellatrix and Rodolphus had in store for her, so all she could do was bear it as best she could...

"Yeah, alright..."

She jumped suddenly at the sound of Justin's voice, snapping out of her flashback to the day before. Glancing down at her hands, she saw that they had curled themselves into fists, and she gathered her strength in order to tilt her head ever so slightly, peering up through a watery haze at the hole in the wall that separated her cell from Justin's.

Yesterday had not been the first time she had been subjected to torture; in fact, the Cruciatus curse had become a frequent "visitor," if you will. There were far too many other prisoners within the walls of Azkaban for her to be tortured daily, but twice a week seemed to be enough for the Death Eaters. And, each and every time they finished, Justin tried his best to bring her back from the haze of pain and anguish that clouded her mind. Whenever Rodolphus, Bellatrix, or any of the other visiting Death Eaters had their way with her, she found herself curled into a ball on the floor of her cell, sobbing and whimpering long after they had gone. Oftentimes she muttered and whispered to herself, and from the beginning two names were particularly comforting for her; one was "Harry," though she spoke it less frequently now given the fact that she knew he was gone. It wasn't as if she expected him to burst through the wall and rescue her, but he was her best friend; she was allowed to miss him. The other name, though, passed her lips constantly. She had never forgotten Ron's face or how he had tried to keep her safe during everything that had happened after Harry's death, and although optimism wasn't her strong suit anymore, she had every hope in the world that he was still alive and well. His name was enough to calm her, to soothe her, and Justin, bless his heart, had picked up on that.

The sound of chains scraping across the stone floor reached Hermione's ears, and Justin's face suddenly appeared within the hole in the wall.

"You know, I heard them talking about the Weasleys yesterday," he said. "It was after they...well, they said the whole family had been giving them problems."

Problems? Hermione's brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"What...What sort of problems?" she wheezed, her voice weak and barely rising above a hoarse whisper. Worry clutched tightly at her insides, and her face must have conveyed that.

"Nothing too serious," Justin quickly replied, "they didn't say anything about punishment. But, they did say that they're having a difficult time 'keeping the youngest son under their watch.' They must be tracking them, but it sounds like they're worried about Ron and his brothers planning an uprising." His voice had softened to a whisper near the end, but Ron's name echoed in Hermione's head as though it had been shouted through a megaphone. A sense of relaxation washed over her, and she felt one end of her mouth lift in a tiny, half-hearted smirk. So he was okay. Part of her, though, felt uneasy. Of course it made her smile (at least a little bit) to learn that he was trying to rebel, but it also scared her. What if he did get caught trying to overthrow Voldemort and the Death Eaters? What if he was captured while trying to get her back?

Swallowing hard, Hermione closed her eyes and pushed the thought from her mind. She didn't want to think about it. But, knowing that he was alive was good enough for her, and she was just about to say something to Justin about it when the sound of footsteps in the aisle reached her attention. Justin's face disappeared, and she too averted her gaze elsewhere, her body automatically curling into a protective ball. The footsteps grew louder and louder with every moment that passed, and a lump formed in Hermione's throat. Her heart thundered anxiously in her chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut when the approaching Death Eater passed in front of her cell door. It didn't stop, though; instead, it moved a few feet beyond Justin's cell before stopping and striking up a conversation with one of its comrades.

"We're s'posed to move 'em today?" one of them huffed.

"That's what I was told," the other answered. "Guess we should start down 'ere and move up."

The creaking of a cell door indicated that one of them was about to retrieve a prisoner, and above the sound of footsteps Hermione made out the other Death Eater's exclamation of disbelief.

"Wait, what? We're taking all of 'em? But it's rigged, isn't it? Can't we just take the Finch-Fletchley boy and Potter's old friend?"

"Would you shut up?" the other Death Eater hissed. "'Course it's rigged, but he don't want nobody to know that. Well...at least not until it's finished."

By now, Hermione was struggling to keep her eyes closed. Until what was finished? What was rigged? Curiosity gnawed at her, and she opened one eye ever so slightly. Past the bars of her cell door she heard the Death Eaters moving closer, opening doors on either side of the aisle and dragging their occupants out. When one of them opened Justin's door, she scarcely had enough time to think before the other one wrenched hers open as well, his outline silhouetted against the dim light glowing on the tip of his wand.

"C'mon, mudblood," he said, "we've got a surprise for you."