Disclaimer: Yep, still don't own Harry.

A/N: Okay, I'm back to torture you all with this very wrong story. I've been on holiday and had a small bout of writer's block on this story, so I apologise for the delay in updating. Vlad's Dark Queen - I try my best with the cliffies and I'm glad you love it. Super - The one who always reviews me. I'm not too good with comedy but I had to do something to lighten the story up. MiSSxMELON - I'm glad you really liked the last chapter, let's hope you like this one as well. Donroth - Another fan of the portrait, he really was a last minute thing on the first chapter. I'm surprised people actually like him. LycanthropyVamp - Chances are you won't read this but I'll put you anyway. Was my story really that predictable? I know Lucius is OOC but that was the only way I saw this story. I also don't see the Beauty and the Beast link....can anyone else help me on that one? I'm glad you reviewed as criticism always helps me to improve. stargazer starluver - I'm so happy that you think that my story is well written. I'm always too lazy to check properly if things make sense. SnapeSeraphin - Here's the next update for you, hope you enjoy it. Everyone else, enjoy and reviews won't go amiss:-)

Chapter Six

It was nearly three weeks ago since Hermione had been kidnapped. For most of that time, she had had her mind viciously probed by Voldemort. She wasn't sure what he was looking for and every time she tried to question his motive, she was severely punished by Lucius. He would hit her with the Cruciatus curse and then roughly pull her up by her hair.

It shocked her the first time he did it, then she saw the cold and hate in his eyes which told her everything. He wanted her gone and that was that. It was certainly a far cry from when he had kissed her.

The invasion of her memories and thoughts was a daily occurrence and it was making her weaker and weaker. The pain was becoming intense, her sight was coming back less quickly each time and to top it all off, Lucius had taken away the medicine cabinet in her bathroom, so she now had to ride the pain out. Into the third week sleep, for her, had disappeared and been replaced with pain.

Hermione had managed a few times to stop Voldemort getting to certain memories, her most painful memories and he knew they were. Once she had thrown him off, her strength would quickly disappear and he would try harder to get to those memories. They weren't what he needed but it tortured her and that was all that mattered to him.

After each session, Lucius would force her to walk and hold her aching body up back to her room. If she didn't, then she dearly paid for it. He certainly had a vendetta against her and she couldn't work out what had happened from the kiss, and him taking care of her the way he did, to now.

Hermione rolled over, ignoring the agony searing through her body. Her thoughts were on memories that she had had to relive just a few hours ago. She had gotten top marks in some school work that was quite tough and her teacher had praised her for it. But she paid the price for being smart. She was just thankful that her bullies were in the past and that it didn't stop her wanting to succeed, it made her stronger, especially now that she had friends. She scowled. Where were they now?

Sighing, she rolled back over and climbed off the bed. She counted her usual steps to the bathroom; five steps away from the bed, turn right, three steps forward, open the bathroom door and eleven steps forward, two to the left. That took her to the bath. She had learnt to do this very quickly; otherwise she would never have left the bed.

She turned both taps on and left it to fill while she counted her steps round the bathroom to get two towels and back to the bath. She proceeded to count to three minutes, which was how long it took to fill the bath. A long soak in the bath usually helped to ease the pain and most of the time brought her sight back to a blur.

She let the water soothe her body as she sank in. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts take over. She would think back on stuff she did with Harry and Ron; it helped her to forget everything that was happening for a little while.

Hermione jumped when she felt herself nodding off. Knowing that sleep didn't come that often, she climbed out of the bath, wrapping her self and her hair in the towels, and counted her steps to the wardrobe to get the comfiest pyjamas she had discovered in the wardrobe a week ago.

She fumbled her way into bed and before she knew it, sleep had finally taken over.

A few hours later, Lucius was sat in his study, doing his usual morning routine of reading the paper. He threw it across the room in anger; most of the articles were about Hermione's disappearance. Why they couldn't just assume she was dead and move on was beyond his belief.

Since Voldemort had started his plan, Lucius had decided it was time he stopped being civil to her. She was causing him to feel and that wasn't allowed; he wouldn't allow it. He couldn't afford for him to feel, it would ruin his master's plans. He knew that if he continued down the path he was going, he would feel guilty about what they were doing and stop keeping track of what he was saying to people, which then meant they might find her.

He had even taken to punishing her constantly and being the usual monster he is but it wasn't easy. His plan was that if he hurt her all the time, it would push him away from her, change the fluttering into pure excitement at seeing her in pain. It didn't work.

He sighed in annoyance. He didn't know what her power was over him but the more he hurt her, the more it hurt him. Not just his heart but his soul. He didn't even know he had a soul, he was sure he had sent that packing a long time ago. He knew it was just her doing this to him, as he had taken part in some muggle torture a couple of times recently and he didn't feel one bit of pain about it; not even a trace of guilt.

So many times he had wanted to go take care of her; give her the medicine cabinet back. Anything that would stop the pain he was feeling, and her suffering but he always managed to stop himself. If he allowed himself to do that then it would be downhill from there onwards and Voldemort's plan would be down the drain. His heart ached every time the portrait came back from her room to smugly tell him that she suffering that little bit more.

He needed to do something with himself. The question was, which direction should he go in?

Hermione woke up to find her sight was back. It wasn't one hundred per cent, it was enough for her to make out the shape of objects and move around without counting her steps. She was food and water on the desk which she was grateful for, it was the one thing that was always consistent, three times a day; breakfast, lunch and dinner. The food she would rarely touch as her appetite had decreased greatly and it showed. She was thinning at an alarming rate. Sometimes she would force herself to eat something, just to keep her strength up.

After drinking three glasses of water and a few minutes of picking her food, she burst into tears. She was thinking about her dream. She had been with Harry in an empty, white room. She wasn't sure where it was but she felt safe there. He had been comforting her, telling her everything was going to be fine. As she had started to wake up and the room slowly disappeared, she could hear Harry shouting to her that they would get her back.

"Are you crying again? Where do you get all those tears from?" The portrait startled her. She may not like him but he was the only company she had.

Hermione wiped her eyes and turned herself around on the chair. She could just about make out his blurry form in the frame.

"If you don't like it then leave."

"I might just do that. It's getting dull seeing you whinge all the time."

"Well go then." She urged half-heartedly. She watched the blob move out of the frame. She counted to ten as she walked back over to the bed. As she got on the bed and reached eight, he was back in the frame.

"Now that was sneaky." He said indignantly. Hermione smiled weakly. They may be enemies but they had silently established a game between them over the past couple of weeks. It was how quickly she could get him to leave the frame. There were no prizes just the smugness of winning.

"You were crying on purpose, weren't you?"

"No but you asked for it anyway."

"So what's wrong with the mudblood today?"

"Carry on and I'll give you a pair of glasses today." Hermione had drawn on him a few times before and had gotten into trouble for her insolence but it was nothing compared to the punishment she received for just being her when Voldemort was around. Lucius seemed to hurt her ten times more when his master was in the building.

"You never learn, do you? Besides, you can't see properly today."

"And how do you know that?"

"The look in your eyes. You're trying to focus too much." She smiled at him. "What are you smiling at?"

"Considering you dislike me so much, you're not doing too bad on noticing little things about me that my best friends wouldn't notice in a million years." She explained sadly.

"I'm known for my perceptiveness, I learnt from the best. I've also noticed that your fighting spirit is disappearing the longer you are here." He pointed out to her.

"Yeah and I bet you constantly remind him that. He's probably getting impatient that I haven't stopped fighting completely and dropped dead yet. I'm contaminating his house and no plans are worth that."

"Too right you are."

"Drop dead."

"You wish I would." There was a pregnant pause between them. "See. When you first got her, there was no way you would allow me to have the last word but now you don't care."

"You really want those glasses, don't you?"

"You couldn't do it. You can't see fully."

"Just watch me." The portrait hastily left his frame before Hermione had even attempted to move. She flopped back down on the bed, knowing he wouldn't be back in a while.

Lucius was watching the empty frame when his portrait slipped in.

"She's giving up very quickly. The master will get his deed done soon now that she won't fight as much. Then we can finally get her out of our home." He smugly told Lucius. He frowned. He was meant to be happy about this; instead, what he felt was sheer panic.