Chapter III
I miss you!
From the reports she had read in the Daily Prophet recently, Hermione knew she was not going to survive this abduction. Voldemort's attacks had grown more and more frequent. The curses that he and his men performed on his opposers were so unforgivable it gave the Cruciatus Curse a good name. Hermione did not fear for her life at this point. She was, in fact, hoping that he would kill her instantly. She didn't want to suffer a slow and painful death like those before her.
She was, obviously, oblivious to the reason as to *why* he had stolen her from her muggle home. Her family and her parted on such horrid terms that it made Hermione's eyes water to know that the last thing she told her parents wasn't that she loved them or that she hoped only the best for them. She burst into sobs as she heard those horrid words of hers before she stormed out of the house, "-maybe I *would* be better off elsewhere!"
She curled up into a corner of the bare dungeon that she had woken up in. Allowing her tears to flow freely, as she figured she hadn't much time left to do it anyway, she thought of her parents and how upset they must be. Not knowing how much she really loved them, Not giving them the hug "good-bye" with a kiss on the cheek as she always had- naturally she had not meant to leave, she was just going for a walk to clear her mind, but that would be a walk remembered when she did not come home.
Her thoughts continued to dwell on her family and friends, teachers and mentors, even enemies who had become her closest of friends. She felt alone, cold, and defenseless. Her wand had slipped from her grasp when she was Petrified. She was alone. She hadn't spoken to anyone but her parents for months and they were probably still angry at her anyway. It would be a long time for them to realize what had happened to her. And by the time they actually read it in a copy of the Daily Prophet it will be too late to do anything. Hermione's thoughts turned morbid as the long night wore on.
* * *
Meanwhile, the Dark Lord busied himself with a complex potion that would render Hermione irresistably attracted to him. But to get her to drink it, he thought, he would have to starve her for a day or two so that she wouldn't be able to resist a refreshing beverage. He laughed at his genius.
He would have ordered that overly-plump buffoon to create the mixture, but didn't trust him or anyone else to do a better job. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted it to be done and over with. He had to pamper this twit for nine months, might as well get it done and over with as soon as possible so that he could have his son and murder that Mudblood wench!
* * *
The day wore on. Hermione grew restless. The only light came from above, through the bars of a window that a rat could scarcely fit through. "God," she moaned, "I miss my family. . ."
Slow starvation, that's how they were going to do her in. Well, she though, it was better way to die than the alternatives. Did he go through this much care to kill all of his victims? The two decripit skeletons accompanying her, along with the Daily Prophet accounts still fresh in her mind, told her *not*. So what did he really want with her? It was because of Harry, it had to be. She hoped that where ever he was, he was safe.
From the reports she had read in the Daily Prophet recently, Hermione knew she was not going to survive this abduction. Voldemort's attacks had grown more and more frequent. The curses that he and his men performed on his opposers were so unforgivable it gave the Cruciatus Curse a good name. Hermione did not fear for her life at this point. She was, in fact, hoping that he would kill her instantly. She didn't want to suffer a slow and painful death like those before her.
She was, obviously, oblivious to the reason as to *why* he had stolen her from her muggle home. Her family and her parted on such horrid terms that it made Hermione's eyes water to know that the last thing she told her parents wasn't that she loved them or that she hoped only the best for them. She burst into sobs as she heard those horrid words of hers before she stormed out of the house, "-maybe I *would* be better off elsewhere!"
She curled up into a corner of the bare dungeon that she had woken up in. Allowing her tears to flow freely, as she figured she hadn't much time left to do it anyway, she thought of her parents and how upset they must be. Not knowing how much she really loved them, Not giving them the hug "good-bye" with a kiss on the cheek as she always had- naturally she had not meant to leave, she was just going for a walk to clear her mind, but that would be a walk remembered when she did not come home.
Her thoughts continued to dwell on her family and friends, teachers and mentors, even enemies who had become her closest of friends. She felt alone, cold, and defenseless. Her wand had slipped from her grasp when she was Petrified. She was alone. She hadn't spoken to anyone but her parents for months and they were probably still angry at her anyway. It would be a long time for them to realize what had happened to her. And by the time they actually read it in a copy of the Daily Prophet it will be too late to do anything. Hermione's thoughts turned morbid as the long night wore on.
* * *
Meanwhile, the Dark Lord busied himself with a complex potion that would render Hermione irresistably attracted to him. But to get her to drink it, he thought, he would have to starve her for a day or two so that she wouldn't be able to resist a refreshing beverage. He laughed at his genius.
He would have ordered that overly-plump buffoon to create the mixture, but didn't trust him or anyone else to do a better job. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted it to be done and over with. He had to pamper this twit for nine months, might as well get it done and over with as soon as possible so that he could have his son and murder that Mudblood wench!
* * *
The day wore on. Hermione grew restless. The only light came from above, through the bars of a window that a rat could scarcely fit through. "God," she moaned, "I miss my family. . ."
Slow starvation, that's how they were going to do her in. Well, she though, it was better way to die than the alternatives. Did he go through this much care to kill all of his victims? The two decripit skeletons accompanying her, along with the Daily Prophet accounts still fresh in her mind, told her *not*. So what did he really want with her? It was because of Harry, it had to be. She hoped that where ever he was, he was safe.