Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. You would probably know why because you don't own them either. If you are J.K Rowling, you are exempted.

A/N: Well, here I am again!!! I hope you liked the start of my fic!! I haven't clearly thought of how Hermione was "tortured", I am still covering holes in my fic, the stuff that still boggles your minds. Just be super patient, I'm thinking of something. 

I also want to thank the first few people who reviewed me. I appreciate your compliments!!! And I'm sorry you had to read the word file instead of the html one. Our computer's sick and so I can't replace it easily, but I'll try.

Anyways, here it goes!! Chapter 2!!

CHAPTER 2: Hope from the Bush

Absolute Silence…

Only the sound of the burning wood and the flickering flame in the fireplace can be heard in the room Harry and Hermione had been stuck in for so long. Ever since Harry was trapped, he wasn't able to bring himself to speak. He was ashamed at his greatest failure yet… saving someone you love. But he was not going to give up. It was getting warmer in the little quarter and few fresh wood ashes passed through the fire stand and floated to Harry's face, burning his skin. It was like a painful prick of a needle in your flesh, scorching, like the fire it has been resting on. This had occurred to him once or twice now, he was not counting, but he was unable to wipe it away, lest hold it, for he was still bound on the heavy chains. He was just counting on this little black piece of bark scrap to wither away and peel of his skin, like he used to do, and just wait for the pain to slowly go away. On the other end, Hermione was sitting on the floor, playing with her fingers, her back to Harry. There was nothing much to do, nothing to write with, not even a stick or a pole of some sort, with which she could hit or strike the wall, scribbling figures, releasing tension.  There was nothing, no book, which she would greatly love reading, no food, no freedom, no everything. 'It was okay though,' she thought, 'I have lived like this for quite some time now, haven't I?' She laughed at her foolishness, she looked ridiculous at her state, and so is Harry. 'Why doesn't he talk?' Hermione wondered as she turned around to see Harry closing his eyes, wincing in pain, as another thin layer of burnt wood flung to his face, near his eyes. She also frowned, turning her head away, feeling what Harry did, as if the piece of wood crumb was stuck in her face. She became teary-eyed, pitying his state. She just can't stop thinking about how to get out of the horrible place.

"Hermione," a voice called out to her. It was full of pain, anger, and sorrow. "I'm sorry" it whispered, the voice shaky, guttural and fading. Hermione clutched to the thick bars that prevented her from being beside Harry.

"Shhh… Harry it's not your fault. It's no one's fault. You shouldn't be…I understand. It was hard, for both of us."  Hermione knew she can't get out in her state, and she knew Harry wouldn't be able to either if he would continue to carry her. She had to make a choice. "You can go now, you know. You just have to rest. Sooner or later, they would take you down. They used to for me. Then you'll be placed in another cell and you can escape from there."

'Hermione, I came here for you. I'm not leaving without you. Trust me. I'll bring you back. Just wait," Harry answered, not believing Hermione can make such a decision. He knew it was for him as well; his restlessness caused them both to be brought back here. He can't leave Hermione, no matter what. She was a very close friend. A very, very close friend…

"Awww…isn't that too sweet?? I hope I won't make it bitter, or rather, make it spoiled." A dark voice came from behind them. Suddenly, the wall Harry was leaning on, turned backward, making Harry's head continually go lower, closer to the ground.  His black, tousled hair fell down, because of gravity, hanging in the air, swaying in every direction as Harry tries to struggle. The wall, or Harry thought it was, that he was leaning on, was not a wall but a big circular piece of wood. He never thought the room was big as it was. Behind him, it was absolute darkness. Someone had been watching them all this time, waiting for their conversations. And then suddenly, Harry's scar heated up. The pain was unbearable. He was positive that Voldemort had been there for a long time, yet he hadn't felt the pain from his scar before. Did he use a charm? Was it the burning wood? It had to be his answer. The continuous pain from the burning wood on his skin might have covered the pain of the scar. A few moment's before, chips of the black, hot and pointy branches flew consecutively on his face, as if some wind blew directly to his face, and the pain didn't stop, instead was growing, like a touch of a hand moving inside a burning bush. The wood flakes continued to pierce his skin, because of the heat or because of the pointed tip, as if it were intentional. They were both intolerable anyways.  The footsteps grew nearer, and surprisingly, the pain faded, with every step the man made. Who is he? He can't look at Hermione, but she obviously saw who the man was, when she gasped in fear.

  "We meet again Potter," the voice called out again. Harry's pain subsided. His eyes opened wide. He felt nothing. The man's hand came out of his robe and reached out to Harry's eyes, to get the dangling eyeglasses off of his nose. The hand continued to touch Harry, cold and pale, from what Harry could see. Everything was hazy and black and white; there was no shine in his eyes anymore. He was tired of being there. He wanted everything to end. The hand reached down and touched his forehead. Harry's upside down body has caused him that tingling, numb feeling as the hand went to the crown of his head and further disheveled his already messed hair, acting like he was smoothing it. Harry shut his eyes, shaking his head, attempting to get away from the stranger's hands. But the man followed his escaping head, as if to tease Harry, their chase becoming more and more intense, making Harry more annoyed and furious. His head was aching and bleeding, his body was all numb and upside down, and now this person makes it worse by annoying him. What other painful thing can happen to him?  His head was still quivering, like Houdini escaping from an escape attack, when with one swift shift; Harry's head came to an ultimate stop. Hermione's shocked cry echoed in the room as, in one swift motion, Harry's head got caught in the man's palm, which was pushing his skull to the circular wooden wall. Harry jolted as well, but he was too surprised to talk. He gagged a little, and turned to where Hermione's direction was.

"Who is he?? Please tell me…" he pleaded the frightened girl. She was breathing heavily, her hands clasped tightly together, biting her lip, tears forming in her eyes.

"Harry, I'd rather not, you should know him…" Hermione tried to reason to Harry, knowing he would be totally surprised.

"Who is HE? Just tell me! I don't care…" the desperate boy furiously shouted.  He can't think right anymore. His last words faded, changing into sobs. "Please, tell me" he repeated.

Hermione gulped and took a big breath "Harry," he began, "that man, that man is him. You-know-who. It's Voldemort." Hermione whispered the last word. It was him.

" Well, Harry, I'm appalled you did not remember me after all this." He turned his head and faced Hermione in disbelief as Hermione took up the courage to say his name. Hermione heart skipped a beat at the sight of him glaring at her, but relaxed, as it was just for a little while when he looked at Harry once more. Her heart was still heavy, though; she saw that twinkle of thrill and revenge in his eyes.

"I'm assuming you are tired and hungry. Here let me give both of you a little treat." His hand went in his robe and he grabbed a little plump, apple-shaped fruit. It was smaller than the ordinary apples, but not small enough that it would be fitting your mouth when you open it as wide as you can. It was sweet smelling, like caramel and honey. Its aroma was strong and Hermione closed her eyes longing to eat that fruit as soon as possible. But Harry was angry and he did not dare look at the thing.

The Dark Lord held the fruit closer to his face and smelt it. "Mmmm…." His voice trailed off, making Hermione jealous. Finally, it was a chance to eat something soothing to the palate.

"Do you want one, Ms. Granger?" he turned to Hermione and offered it to her, evil like the stepmother in Snow White. And just like Snow White, the little princess cannot hide her desire.

"Yes, I want that fruit," Hermione declared her eyes staring at the little jewel, spell bounded by the sight and scent, talking like a hypnotized robot.

"Hermione, no!! You don't know what's in there!!" Harry warned. Hermione came quickly to her senses upon hearing his warning and quickly held back the arm that was slowly outstretching.

"Do you want to try it Harry, to find out? Crucio!!" He shouted and the next thing he saw was Harry was screaming in pain as electric shocks stroke through his body. At that moment, the Dark Lord placed the fruit in his mouth, forcing Harry to bite on it. It was luscious, softening the tongue, tingling it. After that little bite, Harry was biting his lips, licking every single drop of syrup that oozed out through the bitten flesh.

 Voldemort smiled, took the bitten dessert, and kept it. Harry was in his hands now. Hermione didn't know what to feel. Everything was blank in the two Gryffindor's minds. But then someone broke the deafening silence.

"Why doesn't my scar ache? What did you do?" He asked, eyes barely opening.

            Voldemort could not believe it. Just a bite from that fruit was supposed to make him helpless, powerless, and to faint and sleep, for a long time, maybe even forever. But this boy was still alive, asking him stupid questions even on that state. He hid his anger towards the lad, and tried to show the evil smile he did before.

"How was the fruit?" Voldemort questioned, feeling like everything was normal; that everything was according to his plan.

"Mmm….It was sweet, but bitter, because of the person who gave it." Harry coughed out. Some bits of the fruit's caramel syrup, the lumps of unbitten flesh flowed down to Harry's cheeks.

Voldemort stared in disbelief. He took the fruit out and threw it. The thing rolled to the floor, the juices spilling out from it's inside. It was tempting, but not enough for the Boy Who Lived, or for someone in love. Harry continued coughing out the lumps of food.

Voldemort was irate. He just wanted to kill the hindrance to his reign, but the suffering was still not enough. Harry needed more. Then he remembered the little question.

"The scar? Wasn't it firing up, like a gun through your head?  Wasn't it burning, like a moth's wing caught in flame? Wasn't it heating up, like those ashes on your face?" He touched that little piece of black powder and stroke it off the young man's face. "Don't you like it? I thought it would make you feel comfortable." With a raise of his hand, Harry's scar burned furiously. He screamed and hissed because of the pain, his head wiggling again.

"Was that what you wanted, Potter?" Voldemort questioned sarcastically. He was starting to amuse himself, and he did like the fact that the captivating apple- shaped delicacy didn't work. He laughed cruelly, and Hermione couldn't bear watching him torture an important person to her. Her friend…Her very best friend….

Harry couldn't keep up with the excruciating pain, when Voldemort raised his other hand and the wood scraps from the fire blew onto him again. 'This was his plan all along…' Harry thought unable to withstand the pain he had received for the whole day. 'Was he doing this to Hermione too?'  He turned to his friend, who was blurry, since Harry's glasses were never placed back on him. But he could feel her concern, the care she wants to repay, the reassurance of safety. Then slowly, the pain went away. Harry didn't want Voldemort to see this. However, the fruit did have an effect on him. He was drowsy and weary. Somehow, the sweet syrup still entered his systems, and the effect took place. Weary, sleepy, that was all he felt. No more warmth, no more anger, no more love, no more Hermione… Hermione… He tried to turn his head to Hermione again. Every time he looks at the young lady, everything felt light.  He just wished that Voldemort would do nothing to her. But he can't do anything about that. One word that comes out from Hermione's lips would mean torture for her. Voldemort will not spare that chance. 'Please be quiet, Hermione…' was all he could shout out repeatedly, in his mind.

"Stop this!!! Can't you see he's very hurt? Have you no pity?" Hermione blurted out, unknowingly, just so the Dark Lord would stop tormenting her friend. Voldemort stopped, and stared at her. He walked to her cell, and clutched the bars. Hermione backed off a little, as Voldemort pressed his head on the bars.

"Miss Granger… is it just your ignorance, or are you really stupid? Can't you see that every cry that passes through his lips is a hearty laughter for me? That every drop of blood that trickles down his face is power for me? That every time he closes his eyes is a chance for me to rule the world? Or were you just scared, you puny little witch! I am not about to pity this man; I don't have the heart for that. But I do have the heart to blow up his whole body, however that is just one of my last options. Suffering is the topmost. I would love to make him die because of torture. I'm just sorry that won't be happening to you to anytime soon, but count on it. Just wait. " Voldemort turned around, focusing on Harry once more. Hermione was breathing heavily, pain, panic, and worry seen in her face. She can do nothing now. One more protest, and they are both going to die.

Voldemort bent down and grabbed Harry's hair. The young boy yelped in pain. He clenched his fists and tried to free his hands. 'How more helpless can I get? I can't even protect myself!'

"I told you to stop it!" Hermione cried out loud. She didn't care if she'll die. She would try to save Harry's life too, just as he saved hers.

"Miss Granger, what are you trying to say? That I kill him now? Do you think that your worthless protests can make me change my mind? This is fun for me! Unfortunately, it isn't for you, but I don't care do I? Do you want me to bind you up too? Remember what my henchmen did to you?"

Hermione was mortified. They ripped off her beige dress to expose her legs, and touched it, threatening to touch the delicate and intimate parts of her curved body if she dare do anything. Luckily, Draco wouldn't want them to do such thing. He said he wanted to do it himself. But he never did. Why? Hermione didn't know. He just stared at her coldly, and walked past. Still even if she wasn't molested or anything, it was terrifying. The men's laughs, the men's foul breath, their tight grip on her thighs, it was enough to make her die. Every night, they would start on the soles of her feet, to the ankle, to her toes, sliding through her lower leg, and making circles in her thigh. Every night, they would be attempting to go higher, but then he would walk in. She never understood him.

"Go back to you rooms," he would say. "It's my turn." The men would grin lustfully while others pout because it was over. And Hermione always feared that Draco would do it to her this time. Instead, he would just kiss her on the cheek and sit down and look at her cry. After some time, he would destroy his pulled back hair and crumple his robe and go out. Sometimes Hermione would hear his men asking, "How was she tonight?"

Draco would simply reply; "Delicious, like last night," and the men would laugh.

Hermione hated the thought of all the people thinking she was a whore, thinking she was raped, when in fact she was pure. And now, Voldemort was frightening her, to experience that again, now in front of him, and in front of Harry. She hastily nodded her head sideways.

"Good. I knew you would cooperate after that. I wouldn't want to be hearing from you anytime soon, understand?"

Harry felt her fear, and couldn't think of anything but one thing that Voldemort could make his men do to her. "Hermione, what did they do to you?"

Voldemort went back to the bounded man. "No need to answer Granger."

"What did you do to her?" Harry screamed at Voldemort.

"Nothing, Mr. Potter. My men just tore up her dress and…"Voldemort was cut off by Harry's enraged screaming.  Still, he was even more amused.

"How dare you do that to her!" Harry screamed. The chains of the clamps clang, as he tried to summon his energy to free himself from it. But that syrup from the fruit made him helpless.

"Harry! It wasn't completely what you are thinking! They didn't touch me that way. They just touched my legs…it wasn't as bad as you think. Please believe me, they didn't take advantage of me." Hermione lied, not wanting to tell Harry about the people's perception of herself and Draco, with her being a slut. Not in front of Voldemort. 'Not as bad? I wanted to tear myself apart after all of that!'

Harry calmed down a bit. Voldemort sat down and stroke Harry's red face, all the blood rushing to it. "Stop now. She said it wasn't that bad." He stood back up and went to Hermione. "Thank you for saying that. Otherwise, Harry would've died of a heart attack. I wouldn't want this torment to end soon." Hermione was enraged by this, but hid it so as not to upset Voldemort. Instead, she just leaned back on her wall, and stared at the floor. Voldemort, stroke her brown hair, as she started to cry.

Meanwhile Harry was staring on the window where he was facing. He saw something moving behind the bush…a man, about his age, he can't see the size, but he did see the boy's striking feature and….

A/N: Whew!! That was a longer chapter!! I know this may be boring; I haven't gone to the interesting part yet. This is just a preview of how the spell was done. Please wait. I have more coming! R/R!!  Sorry for errors and info that opposed the book. Please if there are any bloopers, read my bio and you'll know why there are any. If you find any, please inform me at silver_prowess@yahoo.com and I'll do my best to fix it without changing the outcome of the story.

R/R!!

Also, I'm sorry if Draco's a bit mean here. Just think about this: The more you hate, the more you love… Yeah all right!! I'm planning to have a d/hr issue but you can't talk me out of the point that in the end, it would still be h/hr. Cherish those chapters while it lasts, d/hr fans. But I think that would be a long way yet…. So wait for it!! Oh, and you probably know who the boy Harry saw was, don't you? It's a bit obvious, who would be in the castle too? Tell me what you think. R/R!!