Chapter 3
"Access to power must be confined to those who are not in love with it." - Plato
When Hermione woke again, she was confused and disorientated. Before she opened her eyes the full events of last night came crashing down upon her. She had been raped. Lucius Malfoy had raped her first, she vaguely remembered passing out at one point, only to be slapped back to consciousness by Lucius. After what seemed like hours of indescribable agony, it appeared Lucius had satisfied his lust, the death eater who had been identified as McNair moved forward to take his turn. He was, if possible, even more brutal then Malfoy, he kissed her harshly, biting her lips and neck, causing purple bruises on her breasts as he fondled her with clumsy hands. He also seemed to take even longer than Malfoy, although she didn't know exactly how long it lasted. When he had finished with her, he slapped her and called her foul names. Just as the third death eater had begun to move towards her, the carriage slammed to a sudden halt.
"Shit" Stun her, we're here" Lucius' voice had yelled. Hermione, for the second time that night had seen masses of red light. And now, here she was.
Hermione opened her eyes very slowly, looking around her as discretely as she could. She realised she was in a cell, three grimy stone walls surrounded her, one wall comprised of fifteen steel bars, which had rusted terrible. Beyond the bars she could see a dark unlit corridor, she could not see where it lead. The room was dimly lit, but by the light that there was she could make out that she was alone. Realising this, she thought it safe to sit up. As she tried, she felt ropes pulling against her hands and feet, she had been bound to the rusty iron bedstead on which she lay. Scared and alone, she lost her cool and became to scream as loud as she could, her screams echoed through the stone caverns, and within minutes she was surrounded by at least ten masked death eaters.
"Ahhh, Miss Granger" called Malfoy, "How nice of you to join us"
Hermione said nothing.
"How are you feeling? In agony I hope?" he inquired without a hint of concern. "Our master wishes to speak with you Mudblood" he half yelled, his face inches from hers. She blinked at him, and turned away. Lucius grabbed her face and turned it towards him.
"I suggest you show him more respect then this" he whispered, before slapping her. "Prepare her" he ordered, turning to the rest of the death eaters "I must go and meet Severus" he said, before exiting the room.
'Severus' thought Hermione 'could that be Snape? Oh God I hope so! He can tell Dumbledore where I am and what's going on.' She was lost in thoughts of escape and rescue.
She was suddenly dragged back to her senses when she felt a pair of fumbling hands pull on a robe, magically manoeuvring it around the bonds that pinioned her to the bed. It was at that point she realised she had been dressed only in her underwear (Lucius must've replaced them after stunning her). This was when the true humiliation of her predicament really hit her.
She felt like breaking down in tears but she knew she mustn't, she must appear strong. She knew from stories she'd heard from old order members that Voldermort would find her weaknesses and exploit them until she was willing to do anything, say anything, until she was completely under his control. She mustn't, no she couldn't let that happen. She could not jeopardise the order, she now realised why Mrs. Weasley, upon finding them listening in on an order meeting had screeched "What you don't know can't be tortured out of you!" Hermione now realised how serious this threat really was. She was grateful Mrs. Weasley had prevented them from learning too much about the order. She began thinking of Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, the children, Ron, Harry, and how she may never see them again. Again, she felt the overwhelming urge to cry. However, she was pulled from her musings by a deafening crack, followed by a high, piercing cackle. Hermione Knew Voldermort had arrived, she knew she was on the verge of death, all that separated her from death was her own wit and endurance.