Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot yawww.

A/n: ATTENTION I'm looking for a beta! If you're wiling or know of someone who is contact me yeah?

Rigelle

By Dracrashed

Chapter 3: Decipher Reflections from Reality

She saw him again when she was dragged into another dimly it dungeon by her toothless captor not long after she saw his blonde head retreating away from her.

The dungeon was brighter and a lot bigger than the one she was held captive in. Its huge are was brightened up only by a dozen candles that were divided equally among the four corners of said dungeon.

Apart from that and the absence of chains, musty smells, its size and pests galore, the dungeons were pretty much the same. Except for the fact that she and her captor were not alone. That was to say if you weren't the slightest bit peeved or bothered by the annoyingly obvious presence of well-dressed men who sat around a long pristine white marble table that contrasted greatly against its dark surroundings.

Its pure, clear surface, a void of darkness, reflected off the men's masks. Reflecting of their cod, penetrating stares hidden behind masks. Their skull masks brought out the utmost best of their features for what they were; Monsters.

Brutal killing machines with no humanity.

It scared her. Terrified hr to no end. The way they stared at her so menacingly. Their eyes that followed her every movement. Scrutinizing her. Almost as if in the blink of an eye, they would devour her like a carnivorous beast would its prey.

But it was all better. Everything would be better if she thought about him. He was so dark and yet, he lit up her world when everything else around her would fall and crumble as it was doing now.

Yep, Hermione was almost spiffing if you missed out the fact that she was held against her will by the minions of one self-righteous, hypocritical, chauvinistic half-blood bastard who held women and children as prisoners of war.

Watching him watch her.

She could've died that moment and gone straight to heaven if only he was close to her.

Close enough for her to touch him. To feel him. For him to hold her, have his way with her just like he did during their little endeavors in secluded alcoves and hidden broom closets.

If she wouldn't have admitted it then, she would now.

Hermione Granger, thee golden trio's brain, the know-it-all, the bookworm, the mudblood, loved Draco Malfoy with all of her golden, pure heart, no matter what its circumstances and consequences were.

She loved him.

Dearly.

And she wasn't going to let him give up on her so easily. In her head, Hermione was already thinking up ways and plans she could carry out just to have five minutes at the least with him. It wouldn't have mattered even if it were only two minutes as long as she could hear his low voice talking to her.

She watched him more intently as he rose from his seat at the table and swept with nothing short of grace towards the table's head. The head of the table where the man, or if you really wanted to be honest, the creature, of the moment, the tyrant himself, Voldemort sat. His blood-red eyes, alive in the near-darkness, shone as it met hers. She refused to meet his eyes instead focusing on the white salvation everyone in the room but she and her captor sat around as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire universe, magic or not.

Her eyes fixed to the table's sleek surface, she saw the reflection of Draco returning back to his seat. The quiet buzzing and murmuring that she had been hearing ceased as Voldemort stood from the table and glided to where she was. Unconsciously she flinched away from his touch as he loomed over her and bent down to caress her cheek. Using her peripheral version she looked to her sides, her captor had mysteriously vanished from where he stood. He must have bowed out while her attention was elsewhere.

And then he spoke, 'This one Draco? I would think you had to much history with the Mudblood to even want anything to do with her.'

Draco was not named Head Boy for nothing. He was blessed with a sharp mind and an a very quick wit.

Bowing his head respectfully, he answered, 'Of course I hate her with all I possess, My Lord. The more she suffers the more I shall enjoy watching and assisting and adding on to her misery.'

Hermione cringed inwardly. Did he really mean what he said? What did he mean by hurting her more? Despite her obvious fear, she held her head high and met her eyes with his before continuing with her mission to outstare the table.