A/N: I'd like to apologize for the long wait between updates. Yes, I know that a week and a half isn't that long, but I'm sure that a lot of people wanted a quicker update and I had wanted to get out a chapter every week. Unfortunately, this was one of those stories that I had the main idea of the plot and one of the sub-plots thought out, but none of the little details filled in. So that has been the problem with this chapter.

Actually, this is kind of a filler chapter, in the way that after this, not only does the rating go up (sorry, but like one of my reviewers said, I can do more with a higher rating plus the next chapters are going to be very dark) but the plot picks up and the story will start moving faster.

So, enjoy for now. This is still an important chapter. If you see any spelling/grammatical errors, please tell me what they are in your review and I will go back and fix them. Thank you.

Chapter 6: Be Careful

There was the sound of an opening door, the clatter of metal upon metal, and then the slam of the door closing. The click of the key in the lock. Hermione opened her eyes, closing them again as bright light assaulted them.

She rolled to the side, tangled in the light sheet that she had wrapped tightly around her during the night. The temperature had dropped and without any heat in the room she had begun to freeze. It didn't help that there were only a few sheets on the bed and all of them were light. She had gotten up in the middle of the night, walked to the bathroom, and taken the remaining dry towels, wrapping herself in them as well. One of them now lay beside the bed, thrown off as she had thrashed around in her sleep.

She opened her eyes again, blinking rapidly, allowing them to adjust to the light. The sun was out. No clouds at all today. Hermione untangled the sheet from around legs and sat upright, stretching. Through the window she could see the countryside. A few beads of water trailed down the inside of the glass and she could see that everything outside was damp. But the sun was out. That brightened her mood, as much as anything could at the moment.

Hermione turned, looking towards the door. She had heard it open; she knew someone had been in the room just moments before. As she scanned the area with her eyes she found no living person. But what she did see was a tray sitting on the ground, a bowl full of something resting on it.

Food.

She fairly leapt out of the bed, realizing how hungry she was in that instant. When was the last time that she had eaten? At the house where she had been captured, but that was so long ago…

It was a very meager breakfast, consisting of a bowl full of water porridge, a piece of stale bread, and a glass of water. But it was enough for her and it tasted as good as anything in that moment. She spooned the porridge into her mouth, careful to scrap every last morsel from the bowl. Even licking it clean at the end. Then she tore chunks of the bread and stuffed them into her mouth, chewing and swallowing hungrily. The water was lukewarm and had a very earthy taste to it, but she didn't care. It was food and drink.

When it was all gone--her stomach not full yet not empty--she retreated to the bed, sitting down and staring out the window again. She had nothing to do now. Nothing except wait until she was dragged from the room and brought before Voldemort again. So she just sat there, letting her mind drift.

Had he gotten hold of her parents? He had hinted at it, but what was the point of taking them? He couldn't have thought up some huge, elaborate trap for her and Harry, could he have?

The answer, of course, was yes. She knew that, even as her mind tried to tell her that there was no way he could have captured her parents. In fact, it had probably been very easy for him to find them.

She groaned, leaning over and hugging her legs. They hadn't listened to her, hadn't left the country. Hadn't disappeared. Hadn't believed her about Voldemort. It was sad and it hurt. But what could she do?

But if Voldemort did have them…She swallowed hard, realizing what he would most likely do. He had said that he would enjoy breaking her. That meant he would take his time with whatever he did. He wouldn't just invade her mind and take what he wanted to know. No, he was craftier. Crueler. More…twisted than the person who would do that. He would…

He would try to make her betray Harry. That was the thought in Hermione's mind and it made her shiver. He wouldn't take the information he wanted. He'd make her tell him.

"No," she whispered and she fell over, curled up on the bed. "I won't let that happen. Harry, don't come. Don't you dare come and get me."

And while she knew that there was no way that he could hear her it felt good to say it out loud.

For a moment she wondered where he was. Where Ron was, if they were still together and if they were both all right. What they had decided to do. If they had discovered where the next horcrux was.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep from crying. She really was in trouble this time, and she didn't know how to get out. All the spellbooks in the world couldn't help her. Apparating was something that she wouldn't even try. Voldemort was not stupid enough to put her in a room where she could leave in that manner. She guess that this place was somewhat like Hogwarts in the way that it wasn't possible to apparate and disapparate inside of it. And if she had to guess even further…

There was probably some nasty little surprise waiting for her if she tried.

Of course, her mind could always be making things bigger than they were. It had happened before; during classes and exams, where she would fall to bits over one missed question. So it was always possible that she was overanalyzing, making up things that didn't exist.

She still wasn't going to try. Not until she was desperate.

She wiped at her eyes, brushing away some stray moisture. Things had gone downhill. Things were just…just falling apart.

The sound of footsteps in the hall made her jump, made her slip off the bed and land on the floor. She began to pull herself to her feet just as the doorknob twisted and the door opened.

It was Malfoy again, dressed in the black robes of a Death Eater, though he didn't have the mask on his face.

"Get up, Granger," he snapped, waiting by the door. "I haven't got all day."

Hermione locked eyes with him, glaring at him will all the strength she could. She took a deep breath, determined not to show any weakness today. She could do this.

She hoped. She really did.

With careful, measured steps she walked forward, her head held high, her eyes never leaving his. "Where are you going to take me, Malfoy?"

He looked at her with those dulled eyes, then raised his wand and flicked it. Ropes sprang from nowhere, wrapping around her wrists and binding them tightly. "Questions, Granger, are not something that will help you right now. Though I suppose there is no harm in telling you, as you will find out soon enough." He reached out and gripped her shoulder, shoving her forward. "Move."

"You didn't answer my question, Malfoy," she hissed, planting her feet so that she didn't move.

"I said to move, Granger. You are in no position to be making demands. Now, get moving or I will make you move."

She turned her head, looking at him. His wand was held loosely in his right hand and it looked almost as though he were unaware of anything. Yet she could tell that he was fully alert and ready to hurt her—even kill her—in a moment.

"Fine."

He shoved her again, making her walk before him. His hand that occasionally touched her shoulder was the only guide she had and every once in a while he would push her so hard that she would stumble. When she did so, he would sneer and make some comment that would sting.

But never once did he use the word mudblood.

There was no kindness in him today. Not a single drop--unless not being called a mudblood counted. He was cold, harsh, cruel.

He brought her back to the same room that she had been in before. No one was outside of it this time and when he opened the doors and pushed her inside she found it to be completely devoid of any life. Voldemort was not there. She gave a sigh of relief, then stiffened a moment later when she heard Malfoy speak.

"He'll be here momentarily, Granger. Don't get comfortable."

She turned so that she could see him, moving her fingers to that her hands didn't go numb. Which they were anyway, as the ropes were incredibly tight.

"Thank you so much for that advice," she spat. "I figure that it will help me oh-so-much." She wanted him to flinch at the tone of her voice, but he didn't. He just watched her with cold eyes. He didn't react at all.

That was a little too much for her. "What the hell happened to you, Malfoy?" she asked, her voice tense, almost mocking. "I didn't think you could ever become more of an ass than you already were."

He moved forward almost instantly, knocking her from her feet, then gripping her hair in his fist and pulling her head up so that she was forced to look straight into his eyes.

"Do not judge me, Granger," he seethed and she could tell that something she had said had hit a nerve. "You know nothing about me."

"And you know nothing about me."

He laughed harshly. "Since when did that matter, Granger? I care nothing for you. You are the one questioning me. And just for the record, you would not be able to comprehend anything that I could tell you. You are nothing like me." Then he paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. He lowered his mouth to her ear and spoke so quietly that even at that small distance she could barely hear him. "And that might be a good thing, Granger. Because you might be able to withstand what is going to happen."

He released her, letting her tumble back to the ground. She lay there, stunned, as he turned and walked back to the door.

"The Dark Lord will be here momentarily, Granger," he called before he left. "Be careful."

Then he exited the room, leaving her even more confused than ever.

Malfoy had seemed almost…concerned when he spoke those that few words. And before he had gone quickly from anger to…to something else. Hermione wasn't sure what any of his words had really meant. She might be able to withstand this? Be careful? Was this even Malfoy? What had happened to the arrogant, sneering, cocky, ferret-faced boy that she had known?

There was little more time for her to think about it because the doors opened again and Voldemort swept in, his dark robes brushing the floor as he took great strides into the room.

"Well, if it isn't Hermione Granger. The mudblood. I see that Draco has already brought you here. Such a loyal boy." He appraised her with his snakelike eyes. "Now, Hermione Granger. Do you know why you are here?"

She raised her head, though she did not make eye contact. His eyes…his eyes frightened her. He was so much like a snake that it…how was it possible that he was even human? How—

"Answer me, Hermione Granger. I asked you if you know why you are here?"

She shut her eyes. "I don't know," she said through a clenched jaw.

"Is that so? Well, that is just too bad for you. Because, Hermione Granger, when you don't know something you are going to have to be punished." He paused, wand upraised. "Are you sure that you don't know?"

Hermione forced herself to look straight into his eyes. "I am absolutely positive, Lord Voldemort."

She thought that she saw amusement in his eyes as he spoke again.

"Crucio."

Her body tensed, anticipating the pain. But as with anything, what is expected is not what really happens.

And, unfortunately, she was not able to escape to the blackness of unconsciousness.

There was only pain.

…

Draco Malfoy waited outside of the doors. He was in charge of the girl; it was his responsibility to wait here until Lord Voldemort had finished with her. Then he would take whatever was left of her back to her room and leave her there until the next time that the Dark Lord called for her.

Watching Draco, one would almost think that he was carved out of stone. His face was blank, his feature not moving even as the screams started, muffled slightly by the heavy doors and the walls.

Screams of pain no longer meant anything to him. There was little that could get through to him, little that could elicit any response from him. And screams of a muggle-born witch were not one of them.

He was used to the screams by now. Even though it had only been several months since he had fully joined Lord Voldemort he had seen and done enough things that, in his mind, it was all the same.

Something got through to him, every once in a while. And when they did he would feel some of their pain himself, though he would never show it. It could hurt him to do something, but he would still do it if Lord Voldemort ordered him to.

A few months. So much could happen within a few months. And so much had happened.

The screams from the room cut off abruptly, stopping only for a minute or two. He could hear the sound of voices, the lower one of his master and the higher pitched one of the girl, but he couldn't make out their words.

Then the screams started again.

A/N2: I know, I know. It's pretty short. The next one will be longer. Questions, comments, and constructive critisism are all welcome.

Until next time,

Raven