You Need Chapstick!
A/N: Not much.Please enjoy!
Hermione Granger sat in the cold, dark corner of an empty room. She was bundled up in a red Gryffindor sleeping bag that Ron had given her for Christmas a few months earlier, but she hardly cared for. Sure, Ron was a great guy, but Hermione couldn't imagine how much effort house-elves put into making such a worthless piece of cloth. In fact, had the temperature not dropped below twenty degrees, she wouldn't have used it at all. However, she knew that staying alive was important if she, Harry, and Ron ever planned to get out of this prison. In fact, she wasn't even sure where Harry and Ron were. She had been told that the other two had been captured soon after her the week before by death eaters and Hermione couldn't imagine the torture that the other two must be enduring.
A click in the key lock told Hermione that someone was entering. For a moment, hope rose in her chest, but it was immediately extinguished with the entrance of none other than Severus Snape. Snape's thin, wan face tried to smirk at the young girl, but it only achieved in making his already sunken face more hideous than Hermione could remember.
"Ah, Hermione Granger, the witless wonder," said Snape calmly, but in a very cold, raspy voice.
Hermione grimaced at her former teacher and pulled her sleeping bag tighter around her. "It's good to see Voldemort has let you live," Hermione responded indifferently. "Of course, it would probably better be if you were as dead as Dumbledore is lying in his grave…"
Snape's nostrils turned whiter than his skin and a flame burned in his eyes. "Don't you dare talk back to me!" Snape snapped viciously. "You are just like Potter, Granger: you think you're always right about everything. How would you feel if you were wrong?"
Hermione glared at Snape with angry thoughts going through her brain. "You killed Dumbledore! You helped Malfoy! You were a traitor to Hogwarts! What is so right about that? And if you feel like divulging anything, then say it now or else say nothing! I don't want to hear bogus tales from a death eater."
Snape's face began to gain color- red as if flames were going to come out of his ears. "You will regret your words, Granger!" Snape pulled his wand out of his pocket and cried, "Accio!"
Hermione felt the sting of the cold air hit her entire body as her sleeping bag was pulled quickly away from her. It was worse than being tortured with any kind of spell- it was the pain of knowing that if you sat in a room with hardly any clothing, you would freeze to death in a matter of hours.
"Kill me, then!" Hermione cried. "I am not afraid of death! If you want to see me suffer so badly then kill me now! I would be happier dead than looking at your ugly, slimy face."
The rude insult hit Snape and Hermione really feared that he would kill her. After all, she was no use to him- Voldemort was after Harry, not Hermione. In fact, she was probably worth more being dead. However, Snape only backed away from her until he was standing in the door frame of the cell. "You will regret your words, Granger. Master! She is ready for you!"
Hermione pulled her arms and legs closer to herself as the room seemed to drop ten more degrees. A loud crack hit her eardrums and rang in her head for thirty seconds before she looked up into the face of the world's worse enemy. The horror of seeing a face as revolting left Hermione shocked in her corner and she tried to scream bloody murder, but nothing seemed to come out. This wasn't natural- he wasn't natural.
"Ah, little Potter's mudblood friend is ready to die, isn't she? Would you like to join your two companions? It seems they have already made reservations in the next world…" Voldemort said with a sneer. "Any last words, Mudblood?"
Hermione still couldn't breath, but her brain was beginning to take more control of her actions. What could she say? What did she want to say? Did she want to say anything at all? Memories filled Hermione's brain- her parents, her childhood, Hogwarts, the Weasley family, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Ron…then through the mist of recollections, Voldemort's ugly face came into view and the darkness in his eyes caused a different feeling surface in Hermione's heart- that of pity. Unlike her most pleasant life, it was evident that this man- er- thing did not have the wonderful life that Hermione had enjoyed. Instead, he chose to transfer his suffering to his victims and leave them to feel his pain for him. How childish.
Staring hard into his face, Hermione could only think of one thing- "Yeah, I have something to say: you need chapstick. You're lips are horrible!"
Voldemort took a step back with a quizzical expression. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me- you need chapstick."
"Do you think I care anything about physical looks? Do you think a dark lord as powerful as I would even consider something so…outrageous?" Voldemort said with disbelief in his voice.
Hermione shrugged. "Well, I guess that's up to you and seeing as I am about to die, here- take mine," Hermione offered. She pulled out her chapstick and threw it at Voldemort's feet.
Voldemort looked down at the chapstick container and back at the girl before picking it up. "I do not care for material things like this, girl," Voldemort spat and banished it back to her, hitting Hermione's shoulder.
"Oh now, Dark Lord Voldemort, sir, I insist!" Hermione chucked the chapstick so hard that it hit Voldemort hard in the face and he dropped his wand as he cowered in pain. Hermione took this chance while he was distracted to grab Voldemort's wand and apparate herself to a safer place.
Only when Voldemort finally looked up did he realized that his prisoner had escaped and the anger that filled him was incomprehensible. Unlike what Voldemort wanted her to believe, Harry and Ron had not been captured the same night as Hermione. In fact, they hadn't been captured at all. Hermione was being used as the bait to bring the other two in and now Voldemort didn't have her, either. What a disappointing event…someone must pay.
"Severus!" Voldemort barked at the man still standing near the doorway. "I want you to hunt her down. If you don't come back with her, dead or alive, then it will be your life instead! Now go!"
Severus bowed coolly and left the room without so much as a "yes, sir." In fact, he seemed very smug about something. "He shall pay," Voldemort repeated to himself over and over again.
When Voldemort was about to leave the room, he stepped on something- the chapstick. He picked up the little container and stared at it in his hands. Such a muggle-product it was. He wanted to throw it out the window, but something was holding him back. Looking left and then right, Voldemort opened the chapstick and lightly applied it to his lips. Suddenly, a warm sensation filled his body that he could not describe…but he didn't want it to last too long. He had work to do, a mudblood to find, and a Harry Potter to kill. He didn't have time for this type of pleasure. Instead, he dropped the chapstick onto the ground and left the room without looking back.
To Be Continued…