Hey! Sorry for the long wait for this chapter; I hope it was well worth it. Thanks for all the positive reviews! One more chapter after this, and I promise it won't take as long to come out as this one. Enjoy.

Leather & Cigarettes
Chapter Seven: snakes and lions

Hermione pulled herself off the floor a few minutes after Ginny left, feeling drained and helpless. The tears were falling in a silent stream now instead of a waterfall, sobs crashing like waves over her body, and she felt steady enough to make herself a cup of tea. She wouldn't be able to work today, and she knew it; she glanced over at her Muggle movie collection and decided on a good comedy and a pint of ice cream. She would take it like a real girl, at least for a few hours. There would be no one to check up on her. Tomorrow, she would carry on business as usual.

Still, Ginny leaving her made her heart feel sick. Hermione had grown used to the redhead's presence, popping in and out like a pleasant surprise. It had never just been about the sex. It had also been about the strong bond that was so easily welded between them, and so untouchable by anyone else.

She was reaching for a spoon when she heard shattered glass from her bedroom. Her ice cream carton was dripping melting ice onto the linoleum. Her heart was pounding in her rib cage, moving her bones, making it hard to hear anything but the pulsating organ in her ear drums.

"My wand," she whispered in horror; it was still in her bedroom, sitting on the nightstand. She muffled a moan of pain into her hand as she felt her protection spells being shredded from the walls and windows; they were easy to tear down in her fragile emotional state.

Panic sent her for the kitchen knives; brains swore at her, reminding her knives would be useless against wands. Whoever was there with her was obviously adept enough to pull down her strong protection spells, breaking it without her even initially feeling it. But she still brandished them with care, the long points slightly dull, but she hoped they would do the trick.

With careful, sock-footed steps she tip-toed her way across the kitchen, knives held out in front of her for self-defense. Maybe I can take them by surprise, she thought, eyes darting around her. Maybe they don't even know I'm here.

And then there was a black form in front of her, looming and dangerous, white, bone-like mask gleaming in the dull sunlight, holding two wands.

"Granger," the Death Eater in front of her smirked. His voice was sulky and arrogant; her brain recognized it without a name, too caught up in fear to think clearly or at all. "I thought you'd be here."

Hermione didn't scream – more sighed as the knives were taken out of her hands and her hair was pulled by someone – something – behind her. Her scalp prickled, burned; she cried out. The two Death Eaters laughed.

The Death Eater in front of her lifted his hand; she flinched slightly, but he simply peeled away his mask, revealing hard silver-blue eyes and long silver hair: Lucius Malfoy. Her stomach sank somewhere beneath the floor, a sick feeling swirling within her.

I must be top-quality, if they sent their best after me, she thought weakly.

Lucius moved in close; she tried to recoil, but the anonymous Death Eaters behind her held her still. She closed her eyes against his ominous face, feeling his cold breath against her ear. "Of course, your lover led us straight to you," he said softly, making her skin crawl. "Just this morning. Terrible, isn't it, how she left you all alone?"

He pulled away slowly like a snake ready to strike. She watched as he reached into his robes and leveled his wand with her chest.

This isn't happening, Hermione thought, and bended her knee to kick at the Death Eaters holding her. Lucius Malfoy smirked; her leg stopped.

"Let her go," he said to the others. But in her mind, she heard another command: stand still.

Move. Move. Move. She begged her mind to have the will to break the Imperius Curse. She felt them drop her arms and step away. She didn't move.

"You know," Lucius drawled at her matter-of-factly, "there's probably good reason why you're not on the battlefield."

Another peal of laughter behind her; she glared at him, trying to break free, but his mental bounds stayed fast.

Walk to the living room.

No, Hermione, she tried weakly, but his mind pressed firmly against hers.

Walk to the living room.

Her first few steps were wooden before she finally caved into his will. Their laughter followed her into the living room, Lucius Malfoy staying close by, his deceptively soothing voice still in her head.

Sit down, in this chair.

One of the others was carrying one of her kitchen chairs; he brought it forward and set it on the bare floor. She sat immediately.

Rope appeared in front of her, conjured out of thin air. Take it. She did. Bind your legs. She wrapped them around her ankles and the chair's legs, making sure the knots were tight. Her eyes streamed a constant flow of tears that she couldn't even feel, past the harsh binds cutting into her skin. The one who had brought the chair came forward with more rope and roughly pulled her arms behind her back. She cried out as it cut into her delicate wrists, blood beginning to slowly trickle down into her palms.

"You think this is pain, Granger?" Lucius asked her, sneering. He nodded to the other side of the room. Suddenly she felt another presence behind her, taking deliberately slow steps into her vision.

"Draco," she breathed lightly. His steel grey eyes locked with hers coldly. Lucius' son had been helping their side; somehow, his betrayal shook her more than anything else. She had expected to be caught in this situation someday – but she had never expected Draco to be the one to catch her.

The blonde-haired man raised his wand, a sneer forming to match his father's. "Don't speak to me, Mudblood," he growled. "Don't defile my name with your dirty lips."

"You can't do this," she whispered. She had saved his life before; he knew it, too. She could see the flicker of unease in his face. He owed her.

He shook his head slightly, to clear it, to regain his resolve. Hermione saw his lips move silently, and suddenly there was nothing but the most impossible pain coursing through her veins. It was like razor blades coated with acid slicing through her; blunted axes at her skull; and sharpened nails tearing at her soul. Her eyes were blind and she was deaf to her own blood curdling screams.

Then it all stopped – suddenly, like a symphony's finale: a swell of sound, and then nothing. She breathed in heavily and felt the rawness of her throat, a twinge of pain compared to what she had just experienced.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucius move. Without any other warning, she felt the back of his hand connect with her face, the Malfoy family crest upon his finger slicing across her cheekbone. Her head whipped to the side from the force of the blow, the sound echoing sickeningly.

"Filth," he spat. "You deserve all of this, just for being born." Her skull ripped open as Draco hit her with the Cruciatus Curse again, letting off after only a few seconds. "However, you are lucky I didn't kill you that day in the Department of Mysteries. Now, you are so much more important. A point in your favor." He smirked.

She knew better than to show reaction, even fear. Yet her face was raw from crying, the cut on her cheekbone burning as salty tears trailed into it, mingling with her filthy blood…

Beg for mercy, Mudblood.

"Please," choked from her mouth in a choked sob, trying to keep it in, trying to resist. "Don't--" Whatever the curse had planned for her to say turned into a tired scream of pain, slashes appearing on her arms from Draco's wand.

At the small of her back she could feel the pressure of magic building again – two wands were pointed at her, from father and son. She knew they wouldn't kill her, not yet; she was too important to them right now. But that didn't mean they wouldn't make a show of trying to break her.

She steeled herself for the incoming pain when the front door blasted open, distracting everyone in the room. The other two Death Eaters pulled out their wands, but she could imagine the fear behind their eyes – who knew how many of Dumbledore's Army had come?

The smoke cleared; through her blurry vision she could only make out two forms, and her heart sank. She, and they, would all die.

"Ah, Mister Potter, Miss Weasley." Lucius Malfoy's sinisterly silky voice slipped over her body like freezing water. "We've been expecting you."

Ginny. Harry. Hermione's mind went into a blind panic – they were going to die because of her, because she hadn't been strong. And yet she couldn't help but feel some comfort in their presence – especially Ginny's. Hermione noticed the ring she had given her still settled on her finger.

"You will let her go," Ginny told him, a dangerous tremble to her voice.

Lucius bowed slightly, mocking her. "I think death is a release we can all appreciate," he replied with a sardonic smile. "You will have your lady-friend – and your master researcher – when we have finished with her."

"You and I both know, Malfoy, that your chances of leaving here with her are slim," Harry said, his soft, deep voice carrying through the room.

"And yet your chances of leaving here alive are even slimmer," Lucius retorted.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. "I'd like to see you try and kill me."

"Ginny, no--" Hermione choked out weakly. She saw the redhead's eyes move towards her, guilt shining in them. It's not your fault, she wanted to tell her, but nothing came out as the Cruciatus Curse slammed into her again.

There were other spells going on around her; through her fogged mind she saw Harry attack Draco, and the Cruciatus lifted from her body; the two Death Eaters off to the side began shooting spells from the tips of their wands only to be retaliated by Ginny. The chaos made her head hurt, made her body feel even weaker. What would it really be like, she thought, to simply fall asleep and never come back?

It would be better than telling Lucius everything I know, she decided grimly. It was her duty to protect, not just other people, but the information she had gathered. It wasn't really her they were after, but the knowledge she possessed. And yet, as the vessel of that knowledge, it would be better for her to die than to be captured.

Her eyes made out a tall, foreboding form in front of her, felt her binds being cut away. Rough hands picked her up by the arms out of the chair, making her wince and cry out weakly. No one noticed as Lucius Malfoy carried her out of the melee, slipping into the kitchen. He tossed her upon the linoleum floor, smacking her again once she had landed.

"Tell me what Potter and Dumbledore are planning," he commanded fiercely. She heard the same echo in her head.

She clamped her mouth shut, squeezing her eyes tightly in order to concentrate. Now that it was especially important, she couldn't let herself be controlled.

"They're planning…" She gasped as the pain caused by her refusal to cooperate lifted. Stop, Hermione. "They're planning to…" She bit down on her lip so hard she could feel her teeth slip into her skin, taste the blood on her tongue.

Lucius' Cruciatus Curse hit her like a tsunami compared to the wave of Draco's; she could feel her brain begin to break down, cells dying in her body. If this went on for any longer, her mind would be lost, and that was worse than death…

And then it was over. Her vision was filtered in grey, but she could still vaguely see Lucius' freeze framed expression of surprise and anger and a head of auburn just behind his shoulder. Out of shock, exhaustion, and pain, Hermione felt herself slip away into the darkness of oblivion.