A/N Disclaimer: All characters, you recognize are the explicit property of J.K. Rowling, and Warner Bros. Nothing belongs to me, except the plotlines and additional characters that may pop up.
Additional A/N:- Trigger Warnings throughout the story. Mature Themes, preferable to readers who are 18.
Violence, gore, sexual themes, torture(a number of torture kinds) and LGBTQ couples. A slow burn romance.
-Dear readers, you have been warned. If this is not your cup of tea, then please proceed to other SSHG fics in . If you have no concerns, then enjoy!
Praise, and Creative/Constructive Criticism is allowed and appreciated.
Pure, unadulterated darkness.
Darkness..
As though a cloak of doom had befallen the insides of her eyes. She blinked a couple of times, adjusting her bleary eyes to the darkness, that seemed to overwhelm her very senses. She lay still, still and breathing shallow, so that she doesn't waver even a speck of dust.
After a while, or maybe a bleak eternity, she tried to move, and on inspection, came upon the realization that her muscles were too stiff to easily move, proving that she had been lying for a considerable amount of time on the hard, marble floor.
Massaging her arms, she wriggled her taught body, to bring life back in her sore, stiff as cardboard, back. Up and down, vertically she applied pressure to soften the taught muscles at her elbow.
Stop the mundane tasks, you idiot!
I MUST NOT THINK!
Suddenly, leaving her poor arm in mid-stroke, she clutched her head, as though fighting an internal battle with another person that resided within her. But it was futile, as the internal voice became too much too bear, she looked around herself.
There was darkness, undoubtedly, and then there was that eternal abyss of pitch black nothing. A knife-like shudder ran through her, making her wrap her arms around her waist in a protective gesture.
In the thick silence, that seemed to lay as a blanket over her surroundings, she heard a skittering sound, that raised sharp goosebumps, along the smooth road of her arms and legs.
Looking around, she struggled to find the origin of the disturbance, and saw a flash of untidy, mustard eyes, which immediately dove for cover, upon seeing her.
You witch! Its only a rat! Stop working yourself up on such pathetic notions!
You're a Gryffindor, for goodness's sake!
Still reeling from the slight shock, she let her thoughts and theories sink in, which she had been stalling for the least possible moment.
You are doomed, Hermione Granger! Can't you understand that from the bleak, and morose atmosphere of your residence? You are in a cellar, for all it's worth!
Her constant musings, were interrupted by a click that resounded throughout "her residence" and she clumsily clambered up to her feet, wincing at the pain that shot through the muscles of her left leg.
And then, light filtered across the room, making her clasp her hand on her eyes, blinking and squinting to adjust to the now brightly lit room.
A gasp escaped her mouth, seeming as though ripped from within the confines of her petite body.
Eyes transfixed, she stared wide-eyed, at the people who entered the cellar. A tall, skeletal woman, with ebony hair, whose blood red lips made her the picture of a true Celtic vampire. With a shudder, Hermione remembered Bellatrix Lestrange, wife to Rodolphus Lestrange, and...
Who made Neville's parents go mad!
Beside her was Dolohov, the biggest pureblood supremacist after Lucius Malfoy, and who Hermione recalled had cursed her at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Her hand involuntarily strayed towards the right side of her stomach, where she had been struck with the curse.
"Ahh! Isn't it our favourite mudblood, Rodolphus?" Sneered Bellatrix, as she neared her prisoner like a cat baring its claws.
"Yess, it sure is. My favourite mudblood." Replied Dolohov, who narrowed his eyes as though appreciating a trophy won at an auction.
"Our Lord will be most pleased with us."
Rodolphus approached Hermione, and walked around her, inspecting and observing in the most Slytherin way possible.
"Indeed." Dolohov tilted her head, and with a swift movement of his wand, cancelled the silencing charm that was cast upon Hermione from the beginning of her capture.
Relief flooded Hermione, as her oral ability was given back to her. She knew who these people were, knew what they could do. Being the muggleborn friend of Harry Potter will make you know these things.
"Why am I here?" She questioned, but cursed at her voice, which came out meek, and not as strong as she wanted it to be, to show her perpetrators how much of a Gryffindor she was.
"The cat finally opens her mouth. Finally. I was itching to hear you hiss, kitty." Dolohov smiled, a gruesome smile, that made shudders run through Hermione and which promised of great many sinister things to come.
"Why am I here? I was.." Hermione trailed off, not remembering where she was the last time when she wasn't captured.
Hell! she didn't even remembered the day it was, or the date!
"You won't remember anything, mudblood. So don't stress yourself. Think of what will happen now that you are amongst us, and I really need a dirty, little mudblood like you to play with. Crucio!"
Hermione could not process her words, because she immediately crumpled to the ground by the pressure of the Unforgivable Curse. It felt as though a hundred knives were ripping her sinews apart, and turning her inside-out. If electricity was a wizard thing, then she would have said that maybe it was electricity that was running through her making her cry, and shriek in pain.
Her head was on fire, and her legs felt numb, as though thousands of tiny insects were crawling upon her bare thighs, making her scratch at them involuntarily. She scratched at her face too, overcome by the soul numbing pain that cut across it.
After what felt like eternity, but was a few minutes infact, the pain stopped. Silence enveloped her, as blood rushed through her veins at an abnormal speed, making her gasp out, and clutch at her head. The only sound that emanated from the people above her head was a wicked cackle from the deranged Bellatrix, who was laughing at her pain, which was abhorrent to Hermione.
"You deranged..."
Her words again got cut off, as the pain again lanced through her like spears, and she doubled over, with coughs wracking her body, through and through. Her veins were being electrocuted, and there was naught she could do, except to endure the avalanche of agony.
Finally the pain stopped, and she took in shallow breaths, checking how much air she could endure in her battered lungs. Small gulps of air that rocked her body and made her flinch at every exhale and inhale.
"I hope you get your lesson, of not talking back to your superiors, girly." Dolohov sneered, wiping his large hand across his face in a show of blatant interest.
"Bastards!
A cry was ripped from her lips, as another bout of the Cruciatus was cast upon her, making her writhe on the floor of the cellar, and to rub her back and stomach on the hard ground, in an attempt to quench the pain that rippled across her body. Her very sinews were on fire, and she screamed, throwing her head back and pulling her hair like a deranged female. Bright red blotches of blood formed where her fingernails scratched upon her smooth, milky skin.
"Have a good night mudblood. The Dark Lord will see you soon, but until then, be a good little guest, will you?" And with that, the trio stalked away from Hermione, who writhed on the ground as spasms rocked her body, and finally sleep lulled her tired, bruised body into a fitful slumber.
She was floating.
She was silently floating, on the cusp of a very avid dream, where she dreamt of Harry and Ron, Ginny and Luna, and of the common room's cozy fire which crackled merrily as she perused through her favourite tome, Hogwarts: A History. She dreamt of the Weasley children playing Quidditch in the backyard of the Burrow, as Mrs Weasley cooked a scrumptious dinner for all of them.
She dreamt of the full blown-out dinner that Molly Weasley served, and just as the pudding was served, there was big bang and then Hermione felt nothing.
She simply felt nothing. Nothing. At. All.
Groaning, she opened her eyes, and immediately touched the back of her head, which had been banged so mercilessly against the floor. She squinted in the dark, and quickly attempted to scurry to her full height, but was deterred by the thick, ivory chains that wrapped around her ankles in a bid to keep her stick to the dirty ground.
Again, squinting(she wasn't able to see anything in the dark) she turned around and was immediately assaulted by the wall on the opposite side of her body. Clutching her shoulder, which had taken the burn of the wall, she hissed, pressing at it to dispel the pain that emanated from it.
"Look, how the mudblood hisses."
A voice rasped, chilling Hermione's blood to the core.
She had listened to his voice only once. Last year, when she, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Harry, and Ron were at the Department of Mysteries. When he had come. In all his darkness, and gore, the Black Magic tunneling around him in a huge crescendo and who fought against the might of Albus Dumbledore.
Voldemort.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Tom Riddle.
All these thoughts crossed her mind at a rate of millisecond, and she immediately tried looking around for the ethereal being whose voice had just pulled the ground from beneath her feet.
A vice gripped at her heart, as she swivelled around, madly gripping at the walls, thudding, and banging on their rugged surfaces for a way to escape, even knowing that once in his clutches, she had very little hope left.
Very little.
"Yes, my Lord. Just like a measly mouse, when he is ensnared by mighty cats!"
Replied the shrilly voice of Bellatrix, who added a singsong flair to her voice.
"Yes, Bella. You truly made a fine comparison."
The voice again spoke, and Hermione felt light-headed with fear, and she thudded her head against the wall, trying to breathe as normal as possible.
And just as she closed her eyes, in preparation of passing out from a mental breakdown, the voice slithered over skin, making her jump up with attention, clattering her chains with a swift swipe that sent them up with her, she turned around, her breathing abnormal.
She glanced around, and a groan came from her chapped lips, as the chains dug into the soft skin at ankles.
A shrilly sound, resounded throughout the room, which set Hermione's teeth on edge, and she shouted,
"Damn you, Bellatrix! Show YOURSELF!"
Her voice echoed off the walls of the dungeon, and reverberated throughout the chasm. It was eerie, as it bounced back and forth, the volume clinging to the husk of the structures that sealed her in.
Then there was silence.
Deafening silence, that pressed upon her stature, in a way that she swayed on her place, reaching out tempestuously to gain even a segment of a whisper of a sound, to ground herself to earth.
Suddenly, she heard a rustle of fabric, and a blue light descended in front of her, enabling her to see the dingy dungeon.
And then she gasped, frozen in horror, as he stared down at her.
Wrapped in ebony coloured silken robes, his chalk-white skin, and wiry, skeletal frame stood demanding over her.
His eyes made a shiver run through her very bones.
Red, as though pure, oxygenated blood, his eyes stood out against his pale, papery skin, and the most dominant feature on his skull-like face. Snake-like eyes, and a sharp killer jaw, that jutted out with arrogance, sat upon a wiry neck, which lacked the usual grace of a human's appendage. Veins, produtruded across his skull, and wrapped around it, like vices gripping a stone, and darkness loomed around him, like a twin body made up of black mist.
"And this my Lord, is Hermione Granger. Potter's Mudblood, and the said, brightest witch of her age!"
Snivelled Pettigrew, who had appeared in wisp of yellow , and flourished his hands towards Hermione.
"The brightest witch of her age. Hmff!"
Shrieked Bella, who glared daggers at Pettigrew for adding this in his introduction of Hermione's.
"SSSilence!"
A hissing sound interrupted them, and Hermione couldn't help but creep towards the wall behind her.
"Our introduction, is long due, Ms. Granger. I am sure you know who I am, and I am certain I know who you are."
The snake-like man addressed her, and Hermione's eyes went wide, as she felt something tugging at her mind. As though a low wind had broken out, on the plains of her forehead, and a sickening feeling came over her, as she broke eye contact with Voldemort.
"Yes-s. I kn-know who y-you are."
She stuttered, feeling more than three pair of eyes on her.
"Let us get on form then, Ms. Granger."
The voice felt hypnotic. Hermione felt herself kneeling automatically, but Harry's face loomed in her vision, and she immediately straightened herself up.
"Kneel!"
Bellatrix hissed out contemptuously, and with a flick of her wand Hermione felt herself bending forward, in a kind of morbid curtsey.
"No! I won't kneel!"
She shouted, her voice loud enough to echo five times on the dusty walls, and she glared at Bellatrix, whose lips curled inwards in a type of a cruel expression.
"Crucio!"
She screamed, as she fell down face first into the ground, her back searing open with a million blunt edged daggers digging mercilessly into her skin. Her veins seared hotly, as though submerged in lava, and she pulled at her hair as the pain in her skull reached to an intense tandem.
"Enough Bellatrix, I have use of her."
After a minute, or maybe an hour the pain finally stopped, and she looked up at horrendous reptilian face, and the Azkaban rotten face, comparing the two together, doing anything to feel the pain lessen.
"Mudblood, you are going to answer our questions, and I will promise you a painless death. Not complying with as I say, will lead you to decades worth of pain. Senseless pain."
And Hermione heard no more, than a rustle of fabric.
Hey guys! This is the first chapter. Tell me what do you think? All response is welcomed!
Love,
Rozà.