Disclaimer: I am most definitely not Rowling. (Unfortunately.)
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I apologise for any mistakes made in this chapter, wrote it while watching Waterloo road.
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Waking came slowly for Hermione. As the darkness ebbed away, like waves on a pebble beach, the pain returned to her and momentarily consumed her; like a fire tearing through a house. She was in a small cell-no more than 6 foot by 5 foot-the walls were damp and covered in thick green moss. Beneath her she felt rough cobblestones, illuminated by light streaming in through a tiny whole, high in the cell wall. Too small to climb through, she thought.
Hermione stayed this way for some time, wondering were she was, how she got there and what was going to happen? So many questions and no answers, she thought as the sharp pain in her head became too much for her. The darkness claimed her again.
Some 500 miles away, Snape exited Knockturn Alley and walked through the crowded streets, on his way back to Hogwarts. If his usual demeanor was bad, today he was murderous. The shop that sold the 'not quite legal' items he wanted had shut down, and now he had absolutely no idea where to get his ingredients is from.
Suddenly, searing pain burned through his left forearm, and he felt the dark mark move across his skin. Hissing in poorly concealed pain, he turned on his heels and headed straight back down the dark, dingy roads he had come from, looking for a safe place to transform his robes. There was a deserted alleyway in-between two dirty looking shops, and it was here that he transfigured his work robes into his Death Eater ones and donned the silvery black mask. With a crack he disappeared.
He landed in his normal place in the inner ring; he was the Dark Lord's right hand man, although it meant practically nothing. He was treated just as harshly-if not worse-by his evil master. A few others arrived seconds after himself, cloaks flying behind them from the non-existent breeze. With the circle full, the Dark lord, who had been seated on a throne-like chair, stood up gracefully. His followers dropped to their knees with their heads touching the floor, and whispers went round the circle. It sounded like a plea for mercy, as if they were already begging forgiveness for mistakes they didn't know they'd made. Snape felt sick to his stomach. What sin would he have to commit tonight? What would he be forced to watch?
"I have a treat for you tonight," the Dark Lord crooned, red eyes shining with devilish glee. "Tonight, the Mudblood was captured from Hogwarts, right from under the Order's nose! They are weak, they can not protect their own!" He shouted. Then in a hushed whisper he added, "I doubt they even know she's gone."
The room was silent; no one knew quite what to do. Voldermort paused, presumably for dramatic effect, and then he continued.
"Imagine the things she knows, the workings of the Order. What they plan to do? What makes them tick? Imagine…how poor, defenseless Harry Potter will feel, when he realises his best friend is in our hands." Then, laughing manically, he walked back to his throne and threw himself lazily into it. With his legs stretched over one arm of the chair, and his arms flung behind him, in a pose of arrogance and power, he called to the guards on the door to open them.
The old, oak doors creaked open and two more men dragged in the badly beaten body of Hermione Granger.