Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in the chapter below. So please don't sue me. Thank you.

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Not Alone

"Where am I?" Hermione exclaimed softly to herself as she slowly shook her head. As if to rid itself of the rippling waves she had been experiencing. The stench of rotten fish around her made her retch and feel nauseous. She bent over a corner and pressed her stomach.

Finally, when all nausea was over, and she got a better balance of her own body, she tried racking her head for better ideas of why she was trapped in this dungeon looking cell.

Wait a minute, this is a dungeon. She tried moving forward to get a closer look before she experienced a restriction in both her hands. They were tied, with thick ropes binding them together. As Hermione turned her head over her shoulder to inspect the ropes more closely, she could see that there was no way that she could cut through those ropes, not without her wand.

Speaking of wands… Hermione looked down at the pockets of her robes. No bulges. Which could only mean one thing. No wand, no free hands.

"Who did this to me," she gave a soft cry of outrage.

"I did," came Lucius's cold, menacing hiss.

"You!" Hermione shouted angrily, finally remembering what happened in that dark corner down Knock-turn alley.

"Yes, me," Lucius Malfoy looked down and smirked at Hermione.

Hermione glared at him and it was difficult to see whose hatred was more intent.

"Now, come, Master would like to see you."

"Is that Voldemort you're speaking of? 'cause if it is, he's filthy and I don't think I will-" Lucius stopped her in mid-air by striking her left cheek. The impact was so great; Hermione would have been sent flying if she was standing instead of sitting on a strong wooden chair, hands bound.

"Talk about filthy, Mudblood," Lucius all but sneered in her face. "Now, come, before I hit you again."

Feeling a bit dizzy, Hermione had no choice but to walk slowly with Lucius in the back pushing her forward almost all the time, saying that her speed was too slow for anyone on Earth.

After a few agonizing minutes for Hermione's legs, which felt positively numb from sitting down too long, the both of them finally reached a bigger cellar; except that this was much grander, compared to the other one Hermione had been in previously. Plus, there was no fish stench, and Hermione soon felt better, despite the fact that she didn't know where she was.

"Where the hell did you bring me?" she snapped at Lucius.

Lucius Malfoy was about to answer her question with a smirk when he took Hermione by surprise and bent down on one knee.

Hermione turned around and gasped in shock as she saw Voldemort standing right in front of her. Why didn't she notice him before?

"I should have known," she spat.

Voldemort looked Hermione from head to toe. "I can see why your son wanted her so much," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. That deepened Hermione's scowl further.

"Shut up and get to your point."

"Very well. Lucius's son has no doubt gotten involved with you. I see things that I shouldn't see and I know things that I shouldn't as well."

"Oh, really?" came a sarcastic reply, followed by a smirk.

The expression on Voldemort's face was unreadable.

"You don't want him to follow the same path his father did."

Hermione was a smart girl; she knew where this was leading her to. She started shaking her head emphatically and mouthing the word, "no".

An unmistakable smirk was shown on Voldemort's face.

"Yes," he hissed softly. He then turned to Lucius, who looked like he was in between the two choices: losing a son, or losing a master, which will then lead to losing his life.

"Yes, master?" he asked tentatively. It was probably one of the first times when Hermione could sense the fear deep within Lucius Malfoy.

"Bring your son to me tomorrow."

Hermione shouted her denial, and Lucius somehow wanted to agree with her; he didn't want to lose his son like that.

"You have no choice in this, girl. Either you-" but Voldemort stopped in mid-sentence. "Bring the girl back into her cell," he spat with disgust.

Lucius was about to ask his master for further instructions when Voldemort said something yet again.

"She is not alone."

That was it. The end of the short 'conversation', that is, if it was friendly enough to be called one.

Hermione didn't understand what Voldemort meant by his last words, and seriously, neither did Lucius.

He flung her back into her cell forcefully, and Hermione had to steady her fall by placing both hands on the wall, which she later found to her disgust that it was terribly slimy.

She found a clean spot in the cell and started sitting down carefully. As she pondered about what Voldemort meant, she slowly drifted away to sleep.

The next morning, Hermione woke up dizzy again. She decided that it was really the smell. But as she sniffed the air more closely, she found to her surprise that it was not that bad smelling anymore. Someone must have cleaned the cell when she went out to meet Voldemort. She didn't know who it was, but she was damn grateful.

Yet, as she stood up swiftly, she felt a rush of blood to her head, and once again, a wave of nausea broke through her body.

What the hell, Hermione thought, bewildered. This has been happening since I've been brought in here. Must be the food.

But when days passed by, and she woke up every morning feeling the same retching and craving for sour stuff, she finally understood to her dismay what Voldemort meant by his last words to her.