It was odd; she thought to herself pitifully. One minute you are with your best friends, and the next thing you know they dragged you kicking and screaming and throw you into a cell with a roughness you've never felt before. Suddenly, you're not a human anymore, not to them, anyway. They give you less respect than the dirt on their shoes. They treat you as if you are a mere stray dog hovering around, begging for scraps.
All the hatred towards you because of your parents. Because you weren't born with the right blood that they see fit. Beaten and degraded because of something you couldn't help, something you didn't ask for. The hatred that swam deep in their eyes every time you saw them was enough to make you wish you had never been born.
And the only reason they hadn't slain her yet was that she knew where Harry was. She knew where he was going and what he was doing and without that information, Voldemort couldn't move forward with his plans.
Try as they might to drag the information out of her, she held steadfastly and didn't give them an ounce of information they were, after which only angered them further and led her to where she was now.
Bare skin shivering against the icy cold stone floor, heavy iron chains fastened around ankles and wrists clinking with every movement she made, goosebumps a permanent fixture upon her freezing skin. A mixture of yellow and purple bruises marring her once white skin, she winced as she tried to bring her knees closer to her chest to warm herself.
Tears picked hotly at the corner of her eyes, pain radiating across her back and up her ribcage where Bellatrix had kicked her repeatedly with as much force as she could muster. Blow after agonising blow, all she could do was brace herself in anticipation of the next and she was certain at one stage she heard a rib or two crack. Breathing had been painful ever since.
Hopelessly, she lay, trying to focus on something, anything other than the situation at hand. What day of the week was it? How long had she been here? Was she going to die here cold, naked and alone, chained on the stone floor of the Malfoys' dungeon? And there it was. She came full circle, unable to push the thought of being here from her head.
She remembered it so vividly. Dobby had come, he was apparating them out of here, then she felt the cold hand of Bellatrix clawing feverishly at her leg, long nails digging into the flesh of her ankle, and she knew she had to let go, she couldn't let Bellatrix know where they were going.
Etched into her mind so vividly the moment she realised she was in trouble. The moment she hit the ground with a resounding thud with Bellatrix still attached to her ankle like a rabid chihuahua, and from that moment in time, they had shown her nothing but a harsh hand and a hard boot.
They'd tried to break her, and each tactic failed, so they would move to the next and the next. At one stage she remembered they stripped her naked, and it set every set of eyes in the room upon her and she wished the floor would open and swallow her and it was at that moment she considered begging for them to take her. What hurt the most was one person you thought you could trust just stood by idly and didn't as much cast a glance your way, in fact, they seemed to enjoy the way you squirmed under evil eyes and the heavy hand of Voldemort and you were almost certain a small grin had flittered across their face at your expense.
Of course, Severus Snape was no hero, angel or other, but deep down you would have assumed he wouldn't have shown joy at the fear and hopelessness of a student. Well, not in this setting, anyway.
Voldemort had ordered them to throw her in here alone so she couldn't conspire with the other prisoners and she was unsure if she was the weakest link and that is why they picked her off from the rest, or if she was the most useful.
Swiping the tears from her cheeks with the palms of her hands she took a steadying breath trying to compose herself, stiffening as the cell door opened slowly, too heavy for its hinges, she'd grown accustomed to its trademark squeak, and if she listened really carefully, she could almost distinguish who was coming for her.
Stomach growling hopelessly, she hadn't eaten for at least a week. She worked out. They rationed water just enough to keep her alive but not enough to quench any thirst she may have, and she wondered if they were coming to give her a few meagre drops again, or if they wanted to torture her into submission.
"Up," the deep baritone of Severus Snape hit her like a tonne of bricks. He'd never come to fetch her before, and she wondered why they had sent him this time. Dread gnawed at the pit of her stomach. She realised he wasn't the man she thought he was. Instead, he wasn't one to be trusted, and she would be forever wary of him. A man that could stand idly by while a young girl had been down and beaten before him was a man she knew was rotten to the core.
Hesitantly, mostly through pain, she angled her head to look up at the man standing over her with intimidation before slowly turning her head away. Even if she wanted to get up, she hadn't the strength to pull herself to her feet anymore, especially not with these shackles weighing her down. Her spirit was still as strong as it had ever been, but her body was weak, sore and failing.
"Up!" He demanded, leaning down and lacing slender fingers through mattered chocolate hair, pulling her hair upwards with such force, that her body lifted a few centimetres off the ground before he dropped her back onto the cold stone.
Clambering to her hands and knees, her body shook violently after being asked such a simple task, but try as she might, her body gave up each time, causing her to end up landing back on the cold floor hopelessly. Every muscle in her body tensed as she waited for the harsh stab of a boot in her side, but it never came.
The feeling of his gaze boring down into her caused her to shift uneasily where she lay before she felt herself being pulled to her feet hastily by the shackles that bound her wrists. Shakily, her legs straightened and managed to just hold her up without toppling her back to the ground.
"You're welcome," he snarled, releasing the iron from his hands as if it had scorched his flesh and turned away, he didn't want to meet her eye to eye, not because he cared about her and couldn't stand to see the pain in her eyes, in fact, because he didn't care. He didn't want to have to feign sympathy.
"I should have let greyback fetch you, but for some stupid reason, I insisted. Possibly because I thought you at least deserved the chance not to become his play thing for half an hour. Had I known you would be so hopeless and unwilling to help yourself, I'd have sent him. The silver lining here is I wouldn't touch you with someone else's cock, let alone my own, so you need not worry about that."
She stood stock still, letting his words weigh heavily upon her. Like she told herself earlier, rotten to the core and a moral compass that had most likely never been calibrated because it was so far off kilter, it surprised her he could function.
"That's good because, to be honest, I'd rather have my throat torn out of my neck by Greyback than have you touch me sexually," she snarled. She wanted to hurt him, she wanted to put her chains around his throat from behind and strangle him until he inhaled his last breath. She wanted to hurt him, to make him hurt. She took a deep breath, realising the anger that was coursing through her veins had given her a second life. With her chin jutting out, she stood tall.
"Take me to him," she ordered. "He may break my body, but he will never break my spirit."
A twisted smile adorned his lips. "He breaks everyone in the end, Miss Granger. You are no exception to the rule."
A/N: I know what you are all thinking… She's started ANOTHER story and hasn't updated others in months… I will admit I lost my mojo for a while there and little by little it has reared its head again so while it's around, I will write. I have another Hermione/Lucius story in the pipeline with the first chapter ready to edit and post in the coming days.
-Aliasmel1
