Hermione guessed it was the frigidness of the stone floor biting at her bare legs and through her dress that woke her. Either that, or the splitting ache in her head. Regardless, she groaned into consciousness, a hand flying to her temple when the pain hit her.

"Ugh," she groaned—the light was dim and still, it nearly blinded her the instant she opened her eyes.

"Hermione!" The call came from the opposite side of…wherever they were.

Where was that, anyway? She glanced around once her eyes allowed it. It looked like a dungeon in Hogwarts, only barren and even colder. There was a window high up on the wall Hermione was currently trying to prop herself up against, but it was barred and impossibly small. There was a solitary lantern lit in the center of the room, and it was only that which illuminated Snape's very concerned face by the opposite wall.

"Hermione?" Severus repeated when she didn't respond, an unhealthy dose of worry tainting it.

Hermione finally managed to pull herself up enough so that she could lean against the wall she was chained to. "Sorry," she murmured, and realized for the first time how dry her throat was.

Snape adjusted his position and the chains binding his arms rattled. "Thank Merlin," he sighed. "You were out for so long, I thought surely you wouldn't wake."

Hermione furrowed her brow, but it hurt her head, so the blank mask returned. "I'm fine, I believe," she said with a small, comforting smile. It faded with the next question. "How long have we been here?"

Snape frowned. "I can't be sure exactly. I'm stiff—and I'm sure you are, too—and I've watched the sun rise and set three times. I think." He finished rambling and shrugged. "I don't know either, clearly."

Hermione's stomach growled almost painfully. "I know I haven't eaten, but have you?"

Snape's stomach answered her loudly. "No," he murmured.

And then came the most important, and dangerous, question of all. "How much trouble are we in?"

And Snape raised his head and didn't quite manage to chase the severity off with that blank mask before she saw. "We'll get out of here," he assured her with a sincerity that surprised even him.

"Don't insult my intelligence," Hermione said good-naturedly. "I want the truth; I think I've earned that much."

Snape sighed. "We're…not safe. I'm a traitor, and you're a Mudblooded whore—their words, not mine—and therefore, our prognosis isn't cheery. It was Lucius, primarily, who captured us. Since their departure some three days ago, nothing and no one has come nor gone."

Hermione nodded gravely. "Have you any idea how they found us?"

Snape shrugged. "I can only assume the wards weren't as strong on that cottage as they once were." He thought a moment. "Dumbledore will have noticed we've gone by this point. Though, I have little hope of rescue. They have no way of knowing where we are—hell, I don't know where we are."

Hermione closed her eyes to hide the panic quickly boiling within her. "I have hope," she whispered, more for her benefit than for his, but it reached his ears regardless. "I have to."

Snape nodded sadly. "Understandable."

Hermione glanced down at her attire and remembered that pleasant night they'd shared before she awoke in Hell. The dress was dirtied by now and the glitter no longer shimmered in the light. Cold penetrated her from all sides quite uncomfortable. Her feet ached from days of being confined in high-heels, but she was grateful for them because she'd never trust bare feet on these grimy floors.

Her bare legs were an unfortunate exception.

She stretched her neck and noticed Snape was right: she was incredibly stiff. She glanced at him and his eyes darted away as if to try and convince her he hadn't just been staring. He, too, was still in his evening wear, only his had been bloodied. He'd torn his stitches, undoubtedly.

"I'm fine," he assured her when he caught her looking.

"Doesn't look like you're fine. It looks like you could use a doctor," she replied hotly, though her aggravation wasn't directed at him.

"Well, no chance of that, is there?" he retorted.

Something about the hopelessness in his voice provoked tears in her eyes, desperate tears that she swiped angrily at despite how severely it made the chains rattle.

"How can this be happening? Again?" She spat the last word.

Snape sighed and seemed to momentarily forget his binds because he made to move towards her. When the chains halted him, he settled back and muttered, "I truly don't know. To call your situation unfair, I believe, would be an understatement."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "My situation? And I gather yours is an utter picnic."

Snape rolled his eyes skyward. "I, Hermione, am used to this life. It was not I who was raped merely months ago."

Hermione mimicked his eye roll, and scoffed. "Please, Severus—isn't the fact that you are, indeed, used to this life evidence that your plight has been the definition of unfair? And if I remember correctly—which we both know I do—you were every bit an unwilling participant as I was that night." She softened her tone, but he didn't like the fear that crept into it. "What'll we do? What's the best way to play this?"

Snape deemed it best to ignore her comments, for he nothing but disagreed, and instead asserted his attentions on her questions. "That all depends on how they play it. It's possible they'll run this like an interrogation. That's how they've started, anyways—they let you sweat for days in the hopes that by the time they actually attempt to break you, you've crumbled into putty. In that case, we do our absolute damndest to keep silent, but I do warn you that that's easier said than done."

His face was too dark, and Hermione gulped involuntarily. "Meaning they'll stop at nothing to retrieve information, if that's what they're after."

It wasn't a question, but Snape nodded regardless.

Hermione nodded with him, and resigned herself mentally. "And that's what you think they're after? Information?"

Snape furrowed his brow at this, and shifted. "There, I am uncertain. It is true that they've begun like any other interrogation, but I can't imagine what they hope to garner from us."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "You've just been revealed as a secret double agent and I'm particularly chummy with the Boy Who Lived—and you can't imagine the sorts of questions they'll ask us? Did you hit your head, too?"

Snape actually laughed at this, truly and genuinely laughed. "Well, all right, I know what it is they'll be asking. But I can't imagine, after all we've been through collectively, they're really foolish enough to think we're that weak." His eyes darkened, but this time it was with confidence and pride. "I've been in this for years, I'm quite obviously willing to die for this. And you've surmounted what has previously been deemed insurmountable and not only didn't you reveal me as a bargaining chip, you came out on top." He furrowed his brow. "To question us is a waste of time, and a foolish one at that. These men are many, many things but stupid isn't one of them."

Hermione nodded. "It's true, I can't exactly see them wasting time bargaining with us." She wracked her mind and wasn't keen on the remaining options. "Which means…"

Snape looked up and wished for the hundredth time that there wasn't a span of twenty feet separating them. "Which means we're more than likely just means to an end."

"Something to play with before ridding of." Hermione cursed the very words that passed her lips, but she couldn't deny the truth that was laced in them.

"Precisely." Hermione's head shot up because the voice wasn't the one she'd been expecting. It was cold and filled her with a trepidation she hadn't felt in months.

Lucius Malfoy certainly had a way of chilling her bones.

Author's Note: Bless winter break, it allows me to update immensely quicker. Anyways, please review and I shall love you-and rest assured, I will not torture Hermione any longer. This cliffy is evil, I know. I don't know what it is, I'm addicted to them. But I think it's time to give this girl a little bit of strength...what do you say?