Hello again! Well, I haven't left it quite so long as I normally do between chapters… mostly because the last one really didn't seem finished without this chapter. I just want to put a warning here that this chapter had some fairly graphic violence and it's very dark. If you'd rather not read that sort of thing, scroll past it, all you really need to know is that Lucius Malfoy tortured Hermione.

I Love Ginerva – Hehe thanks! And anyway, you don't need to have a comment; it's just nice to know you're still reading!

HarryXGinny fan – No problem, Wings isn't for everyone, I hope you find something you like better!

Funky Seaweed – thanks so much! Hope you like the update! And I really hope your a-levels go well, Good Luck with them!

Chrissy – Wow, really? I'm flattered! Glad you liked the chapter! I know it was a bit of a tangent.

Bloodless Ace – hehehe that's perfect! And just cheesy enough to suit me, too!

Toghgal – thanks! I'm glad you like it!

Girlbrighteyes – hehe if you ask me, Harry sounds hot in most of the chapters, lol! … is it wrong that I'm a fangirl too?

Waiting not so patiently – hello again, and sorry about that, but this update is faster than normal, at least! Thank you, it took me a few chapters to get into the pace of wings, and now I'm just trying to stay with it!

Asdfjkl; - Yes, I know it seems sudden, but Draco isn't really a part of the chosen plotline, he's working more with Snape and it just needed to be explained in the last chapter… that, and him doing the introduction for his father.

Dare-deviless – ah, that's a good point! Well, there is more action in this chapter, I hope! Ps. Thanks for the review it made me smile!

Monkinkninja – haha that's a bit of a vintage review; chapter 2, wow! I hope you're still reading and enjoying wings!

JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED THE WARNING, THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME DARK THEMES AND FAIRLY DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF TORTURE. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THAT SORT OF THING, SKIP THE CHAPTER THERE'S NO IMPORTANT PLOT IN THIS ONE.

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Hermione dragged herself back to consciousness. She would have liked to believe that she had snapped back to her fully aware and ready-for-anything state of normal consciousness, but she was far too exhausted. In fact, as she struggled to keep her eyes open, it occurred to her that she couldn't remember the last time she'd slept.

The second time that she was aware of returning to wakefulness, Hermione did manage to drag herself towards the light, and she found herself in a small stone room with no windows and a foreboding black iron door.

That was when her scattered memories began to form themselves into an almost coherent sequence of events. She remembered dressing for the ball with Ron, she remembered the portkey and she remembered the days of listening to her own endless screams.

She had wondered at first, why she wasn't being questioned. In the end, the only conclusion she could come to was that she wasn't worthy of being questioned. They either had a better source of information or believed that she did not know anything that could be of use to them.

The problem was that they had let her sleep. From her best guess, the Deatheaters had had her as a captive for well over a week… perhaps over two weeks, but not much more than that. And they had kept her awake as much as possible. She had existed in agony, bound to a chair and forced into a kind of trance that only sleep deprivation can cause. But now they'd let her sleep and her chair was gone.

Hermione moved so that she was sitting in the centre of her cell, and a sense of urgency overcame her. Something important must have happened… something that changed her status with them. This variation in her routine; the absence of pain and the presence of sleep was obviously to ready her for something new.

Silently, she went over the facts about her situation; that they did not know she had been chosen, for some unknown reason she couldn't call her armour or weapons no matter how hard she thought 'henge!' and until now she had not been worth anything to them except as a … distraction… a game… a way of venting their anger.

Up until then, she had seen only low-level Deatheaters… or she assumed they must be low in the ranks, because nothing in her research of the past reign of Lord Voldemort had produced anyone of their description. In the last few days, she had begun to consider the possibility that she was being used as some sort of training for them… she imagined the lessons on 'proper treatment of those unworthy' or 'dealing with mudbloods' and the thought was filled enough with dark humour that it had kept her mind occupied while her body had screamed.

She knew that her mind was her only asset here; it was quite literally all that she had. She could not ever bear to think of Ron, of Harry or of Ginny in any way other than that they were alive. All her energy was put into the one idea that sustained and nourished her: she MUST stay alive and sane until she could escape, or be rescued by the chosen. Whichever came first was up to fate.

Suddenly she could hear footsteps outside her door.

She looked down as she felt a breeze sweep over her. Her clothes had been changed into a plain but vaguely medieval style dress. The material was stiff and almost course, the dress was all the same shade of grey, but she revelled in the feeling of being clean and of wearing clean clothes.

It was then that she made her best guess at who her visitor was going to be.

When the footsteps continued, she could hear that the distinct tapping was of boots on stone, rather than the leather of shoes… and if she needed further proof, the man that approached her cell seemed to be carrying something else that tapped the floor; a cane.

By the time Lucius Malfoy actually opened the door to her cell, Hermione had made her decisions about the situation. She prayed that she still was 'the brightest witch of her age' and that she would be able to keep up with the situation, and keep herself alive.

"Miss Granger, I presume?" His voice was cold and aristocratic. He glanced at her and any surprise he may have felt at seeing this lowly muggleborn standing calmly with her hands clasped lightly behind her back, seemingly awaiting his appearance, was hidden from her eyes.

"Mister Malfoy." She returned his greeting, although she did not meet his eyes. She kept her gaze lowered and her posture respectful as she bowed her head. She was thankful that she knew enough of this man to guess the reactions he might be pleased by. His family were respected above almost all others in wizarding society, and had once been royalty, or so it was rumoured.

"Good… you are not without manners." Lucius let his eyes sweep over the mudblood and found that aside from the visible bruises and cuts from where she had fought against the ropes tying her to the chair, she showed no sign of the two and a half weeks of torture that she had so far undergone. The thought pleased him.

"Have you been sent to kill me?" She couldn't help but ask. If he had, well… she'd rather know.

"Your fate has not been decided just yet."

This was good news. That meant she had a chance still. All she had to do now was find a way to make herself worthy or being kept alive. She couldn't tell him anything about Harry… or about being chosen. There was no point telling him about the castle, not really, not when he had Draco there.

Draco… now, Draco was the key, She realised. Draco she COULD talk about… he was going to become a Deatheater one day… his father would want to impress Lord Voldemort with stories of his son's victories. Now THAT she could help with. She could make herself useful to Lucius if she could praise his son to Voldemort.

It was not her best plan, she know, there were too many things that were uncertain about it…. but it would have to do.

"Please… is it because of Draco, that I'm here?" She looked scared as she asked her question.

"Draco?" Lucius arched one elegant eyebrow at her question, inviting her to add more detail.

"Because… oh, I knew it was bad when it happened! I haven't beaten him in a duel for years but then… if Goyle hadn't been there, my spell never would have rebounded and hit Draco! …. But it was too late by then! I knew he was powerful and I know he'd find a way to get revenge… but this? I never expected this!" she let her voice trail away as fear and shame overcame her.

He laughed. Lucius Malfoy laughed, and the cold sound echoed around the small chamber until she shivered with it.

"Is that what you believe? You think I am acting on the orders of my son?"

"I-I didn't think… I'm sor-" Hermione gasped and choked as Lucius' hand closed around her throat as he lifted her effortlessly and slammed her back into the stone wall that had been two meters behind her.

"No… you didn't. You would do well to consider your words before you speak them." Not once did emotion creep into his voice as he whispered to her, nor did the ice move from within his eyes.

Hermione found that despite her mind coping with the situation, her body had decided to betray her, as a single tear slid sown her cheek.

Lucius pulled back slightly so that he could watch the tear's progression before he wiped it away with one leather-gloved hand.

"Thank you" Hermione's voice did not shake this time.

He inclined his head towards her, apparently pleased by her reaction and her being grateful to him. Lucius had been considering her carefully. She was intelligent, that much was certain, and she was learning faster than most of the other girls had done, but she had fire within her, and the other fools had come nowhere close to breaking her… yes, she would do nicely.

Hermione watched with growing apprehension as Lucius crossed back to the door and held it open.

"Come." He said.

The girl that entered wore the same pale grey dress that Hermione found herself wearing, and for a few seconds, Hermione watched her in confusion before she recognised the girl.

"Laura?!" Hermione whispered, horror-struck. Recognising the girl who was supposed to be at home with her parents… and then, she realised how long that 'weekend' had been for Laura, who had served Lucius for the weeks she had been gone form Hogwarts.

Laura showed no recognition of having heard Hermione, other than to flick her eyes over to where Lucius was standing.

"Ah, so you do know my pet." He knew she would.

"Your pet?" Hermione couldn't take her eyes off Laura; the girl had still showed no sign that she recognised Hermione.

"Yes… though she is so meek, so quiet, she makes no more noise than a mouse." Lucius had walked over to Laura who had knelt obediently as he approached her. Lucius stroked Laura's hair in what was undeniably a caress. Worse still, Laura leaned into those cold leather gloves, and as her hair moved it exposed a bruise across Laura's cheekbone that looked far too much like it had come from her being struck by the elegant cane that Lucius carried.

"She has been a good little mouse… but I find myself wanting more of a challenge." Those cold eyes turned to the brunette that had frozen against the wall and watched as she began to realise the reality of his intentions for her.

While Hermione had been occupied with the scene before her, her hands had been magically bound to the stone of the wall that she stood against. By the time she realised that her movement was restricted, she could barely move and inch. Her arms were dragged into place above her head and her feet were forced apart so that she was off balance and forced to lean her weight on the bonds at her wrists.

Lucius, it seemed, had decided her fate. He left Laura to sink into a kneeling position next to the door of Hermione's cell, and began to walk to his captive.

As he approached her, Hermione began to struggle wildly against the bonds that held her to the wall, but she knew as well as he did, that escape was impossible.

"I want you to watch her, Miss Granger, and know that she is your future." His voice was barely above a whisper but she flinched away from the sound of it. When he saw her move, his lips curled into a smile.

He trailed one gloved finger across her jaw and let it dance over the reddening area on her neck that he knew would have bloomed into bruising colour by morning. He felt her start to panic, he felt her breathing speed up and saw her bite down on her lip, she worked against her body's impulse to move away from him, and his fingers continued their teasing journey.

By the time he was tracing the neckline of her dress, Hermione was close to fainting. The moment that his hand moved inside the dress, she couldn't help but whisper-

"No"

there was a moment of silence, and then…

"No?" He repeated. "You dare to give me orders?"

"P-Please!" As soon as she said, it she knew it was the worst thing she could have done; he wanted her to be strong and she was showing him weakness. In a movement so fast she didn't see it coming, he slammed the cane down across her cheek and she gasped at the pain; it hurt too much to cry out.

When she had control of herself again, she looked up into his eyes. Lucius was watching the thin line of blood at the corner of her mouth, and was satisfied with the mark he had placed on her fair skin.

She knew better, this time, than to speak. He had a knife in his hands now, he was toying with it, tossing it from one hand to the other and letting his fingers caress the silver blade.

She barely flinched as he sliced open her skirt and pushed the material aside so her could see her. She was trembling but there was nothing she could do. He slid the silver knife between her legs and smiled as he began to move the blade upwards.

As his movements of the knife within her became faster and harsher, even Laura began to flinch at the screams he ripped from Hermione's throat.