Disclaimer: This is based on the J.K. Rowling's World of Harry Potter. Everything you recognize belongs to her.

Pain, anger, disbelief coursed through Snape as he stared at the blonde in his arms. Blood was already spouting out of his neck like a fountain. She had knicked an artery, he realized as his legs began to feel faint. Taking advantage of his temporary paralysis, she completed her twist, wrenched her arm free and kneed him between his legs. Snape doubled over and she grabbed his fallen wand. "How did this happen?" he questioned himself as he saw his own wand pointing at him. "She can't do anything. She is a muggle. . . isn't she?"

But Maerna wasn't attempting to use his wand, he understood with an even deeper horror. but rather to break it. As she raised it, to bring it down upon her knee, a voice rang out, "I wouldn't try that, muggle. Snape rather likes that wand and I'm sure you like your neck." The woman took in her surroundings to realize that Severus had apparated them into a den of Death Eaters. At least eight wands were pointed at her.

Slowly, Maern set the wand and the knife on the ground and backed away. Severus groaned in pain as he reached for his wand and struggled to his feet. He attempted to heal the deep wound on his neck. It worked temporarily but he would need to be attended to. Fury etched in his face has he stared at the woman. "You bitch!" he snarled.

"Absolutely," she smiled sweetly, "and proud of it."

"Enough!" a voice commanded. Lucius Malfoy entered from the next room. "Our master is waiting eagerly to see the muggle and he doesn't like to be kept waiting." He turned abruptly his robe swishing behind him, his snake head cane clinking on the wooden floor.

At the moment, Severus felt so murderous toward the women that he didn't care what happened to her, but his shoulder immediately sagged from this thought. It was his fault that she was here. It was his fault that she was probably about to experience the worst night of her life. No muggle had every walked into that room and lived to tell the tale. Although he mused grimly, she would hopefully be the first. Someone handed him some dittany which he dabbed on his neck. With one last tender to touch to the wound, he put his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the door.

Severus had to give her credit. Maerna held her head proudly as she walked onward. She only paused a moment when she saw him sitting on his chair like a throne across the room. What looked like a glimpse of recognition flitted across her face before she recomposed herself and cast her eyes downward. Snape continued her march, stopping her just before the dias. The hands on her shoulder forced her to a kneeling position and then he slowly joined her, pain still radiating from his groin and his neck thanks to her earlier moves.

"So, you are the muggle I have heard so much about." The high, clear voice boomed out; its evilness reflecting off the dark panels of the room and causing involuntary her shivers."

"Yes, and you are evidence that the Brit's Ministry of Magic is as ineffective as MACUSA. It obviously would rather bury its head in the sand like an ostrich than to acknowledge a problem has arisen or, as in your case, rearisen." Severus could not believe the audacity of this woman. Although her tone and words were not disrespectful, he would never have addressed the Dark Lord in such a manner.

The Dark Lord, however, didn't seem upset but rather amused as a soft chuckle escaped his thin lips. He turned his snake-like eyes towards Snape, "And you, Severus. What happened to you?" he inquired noting the hastily healed gash on his neck.

"Nothing that I need to bother you with, my Lord." Severus was still smarting from almost being beaten by a muggle.

Maerna, however, couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut. "It's a gash from a poisoned knife."

"Poisoned?" thought Severus. "What type?"

Maerna seemed to read his thoughts. "Don't worry the poison is minor, more of an inconvenience. Unless of course you try to heal it with dittany. Then it will deepen and strengthen."

Severus just stared at her aghast. Surely, she had to be joking, but she looked at him dead in the eye completely serious. "There is no such poison," Severus growled. "I know poisons."

"Oh, it's my own special recipe. I call it a counter antidote. If you decompose an antidote into its simplest components and then retest them for limiting reagents, reactants can be found that actually strengthen the original chemical bonds of the potion. A simple gravimetric analysis should yield the answers you need, but I doubt you even know what that is since it's muggle chemistry." Despite kneeling before the darkest wizard in a century, Maerna turned to Severus with a dazzling smile. She was determined to win this round.

Voldemort really did laugh this time. The room was stunned at such a display from their master and were unsure if they were supposed to join in or not. Voldemort, however, stopped quickly and turned to Snape. "Well, Severus it looks like you have your work cut out for you. This is your project. I expect to see results." Then he grabbed the chin of Maerna forcing her to look at him in the eye. "You may be a squib but you are obviously a well-informed one. Severus and you have a mission. If you succeed, I'll make your death less painful. If you don't, you'll beg for it." Then he enjoyed a few moments of Cruciatus, just to make sure his message was clear.

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Drip, drip, drip. The water was cold as it splashed from above. It was monotonous with its steady sound. It was agonizing as it reminded her of where she was. It was cruel as it reminded her of what was to come. "Fourteen days," Maerna shivered. "I've been here fourteen days and fourteen nights. Fourteen days of dripping and fourteen nights of screams."

The timeline after Voldemort's introduction to Maema of the Cruciatus curse was hazy at best. She had writhed on the floor, only able to focus on the Yew wand and the red eyes behind it. Every nerve was on fire screaming for relief or death. Then he just walked away. Whether brave or foolish, she lifted her head. The Dark Lord was conferring in the corner with Severus and that man with the blonde ponytail. At first the blonde looked satisfied and then annoyed but he bowed his head in obedience while smirking at Maerna from the side.

Severus walked over and picked her up. She braced for more pain but his grip was surprisingly gentle. As he tried to stand her up, her legs gave away. Disgust escaped his lips but he swung her around and carried her out the door. But it wasn't Severus that took her away, but the blonde man. Snape transferred her to him with a incalculable look and turned his heels. He did not look back. "It looks like it's just you and me, darling," croned the blonde man, "and we're going to have a lot of fun."

The man's name was Lucius Malfoy, Maerna learned later that night. "He's well-named," she mused, "named after the devil and having bad faith. Actually, I doubt he has any faith at all, except in his Master. It will get him in the end. If not in this life than the next." Malfoy was, however, certainly living up to his name. For fourteen days, Maerna's days had been filled with drips of water, stale bread and a bed of stone slab. Her nights had been filled with screams but not her own. She now thought she could interpret that look of satisfaction and then annoyance when Voldemort gave him instructions. She was not to be touched, at least not the way Lucius wanted to touch her.

So, he didn't. Every evening with a Firewhiskey in hand, he would bind her to a chair and play his games: games of throwing knives, games of hexes and curses, games of whatever sadistic idea he could come up with without touching her. Then he would start the "courtship" as he called it. It always started with the briefest touch and ended with her clothes ripped off. At the point, she knew he couldn't hold it anymore, he would stalk out and into the darkness. Then the screaming would start. Someone else was getting touched.

For fourteen days, she endured it and then she decided no more. He may have another muggle hidden in this labyrinth and although, Maerna couldn't do anything for her, she was still going to be in control of her own destiny. If Lucius wanted her alive to be his plaything, then she would die. She refused to eat or drink. For days, food was left untouched and her face became pale and more drawn. Lucius, she noted with some satisfaction, was becoming unnerved. Evidently, the Dark Lord didn't want her to die. He promised her nice clothing, a blanket, better food. He promised her that the courtship would stop if only she would eat. The only response was a small smile her her lips. As twisted as the situation was, she seemed to be, somewhat, in control.

However, it wasn't to last. Sick of her antics, Lucius imperioed her to force her to eat. Once she had the strength to sit up straight, the courtships continued with vigor. Some nights, she could feel herself gaining control again. Once she even yelled, "no!" but it was futile. He gave her a confused look but obviously didn't think about it too much in his drunken haze and waved his wand. He was in control again.

Thirty days, thirty-one, thirty-two. Each day passed the same. Drip, drip, drip, Each night continued-courtship and the other being touched.

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One day Maerna heard a loud pop, rather like an old-fashion popgun. She turned her head a fraction to see two large eyes and two bat-like ears staring at her. It was a house elf. This, in itself, didn't surprise Maerna. A house elf brought her dinner down every night and disappeared without word. It had, obviously, been ordered not to talk to her. What first surprised her about this one was what he wore, not a tea towel, but a sweater, three scarves and two hats. The second thing to surprise her was that this house elf didn't shut up. "Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! Look at miss! He's doing terrible things to you. I knew he was. I may not belong here anymore but I can still sense it. I sense this house. I can sense the evil in here. Professor was so worried about you. He wasn't happy that you were here but said there was nothing he could do. But Master Malfoy has done horrible things to you, to others, oh bad Dobby, bad Dobby." The elf began to bang his head on her slab bed. Maerna grabbed him around the shoulders and using what little strength she had, pushed him away from his torture device. "Oh thank you miss. Thank you. Thank you. Doby still is free elf now but still, sometimes, has trouble saying bad things about his former owners. Miss is so kind to help Dobby. Miss is so brave to withstand this place. Miss is almost as brave and kind as the great Harry Potter."

Maerna smiled at the elf. "Thank you," she croaked. Doby opened his mouth again when the door clanked open. Someone was coming down the stairs. Doby whispered, "I'll be back, Miss. I'll help you. I promise." Then he disappeared as quickly as he came. Maerna drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, the dripping had started again. With each drip, Maerna pondered a thought. Was Dobby real or a hallucination?