The song Hostage is perfect for the bottom part of this chapter. If you aren't listening to those songs while reading this, you're doing something wrong. Lol.

.o.o.o.

The woman sat with her back against the cold wall, close to the metal bars in case the man arrived again. Her head continued to throb despite being given water. Her mouth was still dry and the single glass was never enough. Hermione knew, this was likely intentional.

Sitting alone in the darkness, often for hours until she drifted to sleep again, was disorienting. No sounds from outside the dungeon penetrated through the stone. Excluding her own scent, only a damp mold greeted her nostrils. The man only ever brought a sandwich for her to consume, and it seemed to be in a pattern. Although… Hermione couldn't help feeling like she was losing time. Had she been in the cell for a week? Has it been a few weeks already? What if it was a month? There was no way to tell. She tried counting her meals, yet this offered no help. There were at least ten meals she could immediately recall. However, there were times when Hermione would wake up and know she had eaten because her stomach was full, yet she couldn't remember doing so.

The woman… Hermione couldn't tell how many times she had been visited by her. There was always some form of torture that left her damaged. Sometimes Bellatrix would use a curse that caused thin cuts all over her body. A curse that caused her skin to burn up and itch. Another that made her throat and stomach constrict, cutting off all hope for air. Finally, there was the unforgivable curse.

The very thought sent a painful reminder through her body. Even when she wasn't being tortured, the suffering haunted her.

Hermione jerked from the sudden slam of the metal door.

Click. Snap. Click. Slap. Click. Click. Click. Slap. Snap.

Oh no. She had come again. The victim cursed her own thoughts. What if simply by thinking about the woman, it summoned her. Similar to Voldemort's spell on his spoken name.

"Mudblood!"

Hermione couldn't fight her natural instinct to scamper to the back wall. The few steps provided her no comfort in distance though.

She heard a spit and nasally chuckle.

"Disgusting."

She didn't react. There was no need to. Bellatrix was right. Hermione knew she was repulsive.

"Are you going to talk today," the woman taunted.

Hermione kept her mouth shut. The silence passed once more.

"If you don't tell us where Harry is, you'll die here."

The statement echoed in her head, sent a shiver through her spine, and made bile rise up in her throat. There was no denying it. If Hermione couldn't come up with some information to give, she would certainly be killed. As soon as Bellatrix realized that Hermione knew nothing, that was her end.

Was it worth it?

The thought brought shame to her. How dare Hermione value her own life over Harry's and the effort to stop Voldemort. She was one person. What was one death in comparison to the thousands if Voldemort won.

Yet… The memory of pain and eternal silence crept into her heart. Could she handle any more?

"Tell me!"

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

Laserasions rapidly traveled down her body. The cuts were never deep, yet they were long, thin, and burned. The full body sensation, the pressure on the wounds whether from her sitting or laying, it was excruciating. Tears sprang to her swollen eyes.

"Where is Harry Potter!"

A sob wrecked her form, "I don't know."

"LIAR!"

Her muscles were being torn to shreds. Her skin was being ripped off her body. Her blood was boiling in her veins. It was unbearable. She couldn't think. She couldn't breath and oh god the pain. The searing screams escaped from every pore of her body The woman withered on the ground, convulsions controlling her. Broken glass stabbed the soft flesh of her brain, digging into the cracks within. Days passed. Weeks. Years. Hermione's soul screamed into the eternal expanse of darkness. She wanted it to stop. Hermione needed it to stop. "Stop." She was going to go insane. She was going to combust. "Stop!" Oh merlin please stop. Stop it. "Stop it!" Stop!

"Stop! Bellatrix stop!"

Relief flooded her body yet was short lived. There was a loud bang and a groaning.

"How DARE you! You pathetic worm! How dare you protect her!"

Hermione tried to focus on the words. Focus on the sounds. Determine what was going on around her. Yet a drum pounded in her head and a blinded stupor of torture prevented a coherant thought.

"I'm not," a man's voice choked out.

"Traitor! Yes you are! Tell me why I shouldn't kill you!"

The sound of fabric rubbing against a rough surface.

"If you crucio her too long, her mind will break. She won't understand what you're asking. She won't comprehend a thing. She'll be brain dead..."

A pause permeated the cavern. Hermione's ears melted at the peaceful quiet.

"Hhmm… You are right… How should we get her to talk?"

Silence soothed her once more. Hermione wished she could fade into the comforting absence of sound.

"I know," Bellatrix began haughty, "Go in there. You make her talk."

Hermione's senses were slowly coming back to her, and the implications of that statement gave her no security.

Click.

The woman dragged herself into the corner. Slow steps echoed in the chamber, coming closer. Hermione's gut screamed to run. But there was nowhere to run… She was trapped…

The steps stopped and Hermione didn't need her eyes to know he was directly in front of her.

"Bow."

What? Hermione pulled her head back. Was he serious?

"I said bow."

This was no longer the quiet man who had brought her food and soothed her wounds. His voice was firm, offering no objections. Every fiber of her being demanded that she bow to this man, place her hands on the floor at his feet and lay her forehead atop his shoes. A small voice of courage whispered in the farthest corner of her mind saying never to bow.

A hand thrashed into her messy hair and yanked her by her skull. The weak body was incapable of fighting and she fell to the floor on her hands and knees.

"When I say something mudblood, you WILL obey."

Tremors shook her to the bone.

"Now. Where. Is. Harry. Potter."

Hermione gulped. The woman outside her cell cackled in delight.

"I don't know."

Her head slapped on the stone. Forced sideways from the kick of a shoe. It wasn't hard, and did not cause severe pain. Yet it threw her off balance.

"Speak up!"

Hermione forced herself to be louder, yet her voice was choked.

"Forest."

"Forest! What forest? Where is he," the shrill voice demanded gleefully.

Hermione bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. It was as though a deep green film was coating her body. It was far more disgusting than any of the sweat, blood, or feces dried on her.

"What forest mudblood."

She whispered, "I don't know."

The sensation of her scalp being torn caused her to whine out. She was pulled onto her knees, kneeling in front of the once considerate man. He held her hair back, pushing her face up and straining her neck. Hermione felt the warm air of an exhale cover her face.

"What. Forest."

"Northern border."

"What town," the shrill woman questioned.

Hermione couldn't say. They hadn't even passed through any towns. Staying away from the public.

A slap to her face. Not hard, and didn't send her head flying. It mostly stung from the cuts on her cheeks.

"Answer," he demanded.

But what could she say? She didn't even know any towns on the northern border.

Hermione lurched back as fingers grabbed her left nipple, pinched, and twisted. His grip on her hair prevented her escape, and she cried out. A sharper twist sent pain through her nipple, shooting into her breast.

"What town mudblood," he yelled in her face, twisting and pulling the soft flesh severely.

Tears fell from Hermione's blinded eyes as she cringed and whined.

"Chillingsworth!"

The cold stone floor had never felt so soothing. Her skull pulsed from his grip, haunting her despite the release.

"Well, well. It seems you might be able to redeem yourself after all. I'll give you some privacy. I want answers when you come up!"

The snaps and clicks of heels walking away grew quieter until the door shut.

"Please," Hermione pleaded, degrading herself, "Don't."

"Nomney!"

Crack!

"Yes Master?"

"Get me a bucket of warm soapy water and a cloth. Now!"

Crack!

Hermione crawled to the wall but stayed bowed on the floor, hoping to shield herself. Her back curved deeply, pushing the spine into a half circle. She felt his intense eyes on her and couldn't stop the whispered whimper that sneaked out her lips. He was so focused on her. He had been kind before, but now he was definitely her enemy. Did he find her cowering amusing? Was he… aroused?

Crack.

The sound of a basin being set on stone echoed along with the rustle of clothing.

Crack.

Hermione tried to contain her shuddering breaths.

"Come here," he whispered.

She wouldn't dare.

"Come. Now."

Every syllable demanded her body to do as instructed. An overwhelming urge to crawl forward drowned her system. Hermione obeyed the firm voice. She couldn't risk angering him. The woman crawled forward slowly, like a fearful animal approaching a stranger. Her head bumped into his legs and she bit her lip and knelt.

Clothing rustle. Knee popping. The splash of water and then dripping. The sounds and echoes. When would the haunting sounds leave her precious silence.

The woman's body jumped in place by the wet cloth on her shoulder. It rubbed gently in slow circles.

"W-what are you doing," she asked soundlessly.

"Cleaning you," he replied softly.

This was dangerous. Alarm bells rang in her head. He had been meant to touch her, continue his assault on her body to gain information. But he hadn't. Instead, the man was cleaning the layers of filth that coated her body. Why? But Hermione's analytical mind jumped to the most obvious answer. He was cleaning her so he wouldn't become dirty when touching her.

Fear gripped her heart in a tight fist.

A subtle scent of vanilla entered her nose and Hermione couldn't help the peace it brought her. Vanilla had a lovely smell, soft and elegant. She closed her eyes. Warm water washed the grime away, and her aching muscles soothed by the heat and gentle massaging. His touch was heavenly as he guided the cloth around her shoulders, neck and face. He cupped her cheek with the cloth and Hermione couldn't resist leaning her head into the touch. His hand didn't linger though. Soft fingers rubbed down her nose, along her forehead, and smoothed across her lips.

When he was done cleaning her shoulders, the man began on her shoulder blades, cupping around her biceps and cleaning her arms. Hermione kept her hands folded in her lap obediently.

She tensed as his hand raveled down her chest and began to massage the dirt from her breasts. He didn't twist the stinging nipple again, simply wiped the cloth over it and moved on. An exhale of relief fell from her lips as he wrapped his arm around her back and down her sides. He wasn't going to hurt her… At least not right now.

For the moment, Hermione allowed herself to enjoy the cleaning. The soap smelled lovely, his touch was gentle, and the warm water soothed her. She felt cleaner already. The sweat, blood, and grime cleansed from her worn body.

The hand reached her waist and then her thighs. Hermione's breath hitched as his hand brushed over the upper curls. But it didn't linger there. He continued to massage her thighs and legs. He wound his arm around and got her lower back, pressing deep circles into the sore spot.

"Sit back."

Hemione hesitantly shifted her legs out from under her and sat on her bum. She kept her knees slightly bent up from the man. He didn't protest her position and continued to clean her knees and legs. With the utmost care, the hand sneaked under her foot.. Hermione stifled a giggle as the cloth circled around each toe and rubbed in between. It snaked down the bottom of her foot and cupped her heel before wrapping around her ankle. His touch was incredibly gentle, soothing, cleansing, and dangerous.

The cloth splashed into the water to be rinsed as it had many times already.

"Clean yourself."

Hermione's eyes flew open. Was he telling her to-

"I'm not going to touch those areas."

He… he wasn't going to touch her? Was it because she was too dirty? Or was he respecting her privacy?

Slosh.

A dry hand grasped her wrist lightly and brought it up to the wet cloth. Hermione conciousciously took it from his hand and brought it to her lap. How was she supposed to do this? Stand up? She didn't want to put on a show for him. Was he going to watch? Hermione hadn't heard the rustle of clothing or steps to indicate him turning.

Determined to take her pride and modesty back, the nanked woman crouched and rotated in her spot, facing away from him. The awkward pose with her legs apart while using one hand to shove her underwear out of the way was definitely comical. Heat rose to Hermione's thinned cheeks as she reached down and began to rub the cloth along herself and up between her legs. The water burned what must have been a rash, but Hermione resisted complaining.

Once feeling as clean as she would get, she knelt on her knees and turned back to the man. He hadn't moved from his spot. Hermione debated on holding the cloth out for him to take, but instantly rejected the thought. He would find that disgusting and insulting and surely punish her. Instead, Hermione felt around the floor for the basin that must be close by and placed the cloth in the dirty water.

"You need to tell me what you know."

She knew his generosity was too good to be true.

"I don't know anything."

He sighed.

"I know."

The silence returned to put her mind at ease.

"If you can remember anything, tell me. I'll take care of you."

His promise, charmed with a voice that forced comfort, disturbed her. Hermione felt as though she could trust him to take care of her. Hadn't he brought her meals and water? Hadn't he stopped Bellatrix from torturing her? Didn't the man just wash her filthy body and respected her vulnerable nudity? He had even been affectionate by massaging the grime away instead of simply rubbing it. The man wasn't obligated to show her such mercy.

"How?"

His hand rested on her head. Hermione flinched, expecting him to pull her hair. But he slowly rubbed the messy knots.

"I'll protect you."

That didn't answer her question. He wasn't going to.

"I can't betray Harry."

"Then you'll be punished Princess."

The woman couldn't tell if he was antagonizing her or trying to soothe her. His voice had been so soft and reassuring. Yet being called princess was a strange nickname. He had called her mudblood earlier and said it with such disgust. And now he was giving her a pet name.

"I already have been."

Silence hung in the air. The tension between them grew.

Hands gripped her biceps and she was brought forward. Hermione pushed at his legs, trying to drag herself upwards by bending her knees. But she was too weak. The effects of crucio were still debilitating her. One arm forced her down onto his thighs by pressing against her shoulder blades firmly. The other hand gently landed on her butt.

Hermione became a statue. He was going to do this? This? But he said that he wouldn't touch her! Did that change because he was going to punish her?

"Yah!"

The sound of flesh slapping together echoed in her chamber. The hand removed itself and Hermione braced for impact.

Slap!

Hermione whimpered. Her butt still had the cuts on it from Bellatrix's spell. The impact stung the damaged skin.

"Ahm…"

The woman bit her lip to choke her yelp. His hand came down harder, with more force. Her flesh rippled from each impact and stung with every slap. It was humiliating and degrading to be bent over a lap and spanked.

A grunted moan filled the cell with the next hit. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Why couldn't he torture her with curses and spells? Wouldn't that be easier? Why did he insist on making her vulnerable? Making her weak? Humiliating her? The indignation.

"Tell me something," his firm but calm voice demanded.

What should she tell?

SWAP!

"AAaaaahhhh!"

Her butt throbbed in pain as tears sprung to her eyes. There was no debating that she would be bruised. She'd be unable to sit comfortably for days."

"Tell me Hermione."

SWAP!

Her scream was louder this time, higher, and the echoes pierced her ears. He was no longer spanking her butt; he was beating her ass.

"Behave."

The commanding tone was not lost to her as she cried out from another slap. It gave the threat, obey or suffer worse.

Disgust at her own betrayal filled her throat before she said a word.

"We camped in the woods and never stopped moving."

"I already know that."

WAP!

She cried out, "We set up shields and illusion spells to hide."

WAP!

"Obviously."

Hermione whimpered and tensed for the next impact. It was harder than all the rest. Sending her body jumping, only staying down by his hold.

"We have the locket!"

The slap never came.

"What locket?"

How dare she do this. How far had she fallen. Gryffindor house would shun her.

"The horcrux," Hermione whimpered out with despair.

"What is a Horcrux?"

Hermione was shocked. He didn't know? If he was so close with Bellartix, he must be close to Voldemort and thus know about Voldemort's horcruxes. Had the dark wizard not told his closest followers?

"Its… Its how he stays alive," she confessed.

"What does it do," he continued his questions with calness. Despite the casualty in his tone, the firmness and demand for obedience still showed.

How could she do this? How could she tell the enemy information? She was a traitor. If Hermione ever escaped here, the Order would never forgive her cowardice betrayal.

"It holds a piece of his soul. He can't die if the object is safe."

His hand rubbed light circles over her red bum. It stung the sensitive flesh, but the gentle touch was not lost to her.

"Can it be destroyed?"

"Yes."

Another answer. Another confession. Another betrayal.

"Potter is looking for them."

She whimpered to the floor in shame, letting her body finally fall into his lap, no longer tense.

"Nomney," he spoke quietly.

Crack!

"Yes Master?"

"Bring me the comforter from my armoire."

Crack!

Hermione glanced up at the man's face, as if she could possibly see him. Her sixth sense told her that he was looking right into her curious eyes.

Crack!

The comforter made a floof sound as it was set on the stone. It sounded large and thick.

"Now bring me a roll of toilet paper and take that rag out of here."

"Yes Master."

Crack!

His hand continued to rub slow circles into her skin, moving around lower back, butt, and hamstrings. It didn't seem he was letting the woman up any time soon.

Crack!

"Anything else Master?"

"No. You may go."

Crack!

The two were silent as his light massage continued. Why was he giving her the luxury of a blanket and toilet paper?

"Sit up," he whispered.

With great hesitation, the woman sat up so she was sitting on her knees next to him. She slowly covered her breasts with her hands, conveying her uncertainty. Her eyes were wide and eyebrows touching. She tilted her head away from the man with the slightest courage.

An arm wrapped around her back and pulled her up to push another arm behind her knees. Hermione squeaked and jumped at the contact.

Carefully, the woman was settled onto the man's lap, her head against his shoulder. The two arms stayed wrapped around her in what could have been an affectionate hold; Hermione wasn't sure. It was so strange, being held on the man's lap. He was… comforting her. Nothing made sense.

Fingers trailed up and down her arms, which were resting over her chest for protection. The little touches whispered down her arms and along her sides, up her shoulder and to her cheek that he cupped.

Hermione was looking straight in front of her at the man who was most definitely looking at her too. But she couldn't see a thing. She could feel the light exhales of his breath, but he was not too close to her face. Why?

But he wouldn't answer her unsaid question. Eventually, Hermione lowered her head and allowed herself to lean into his chest. His clothes were soft, light, and warm. She could feel the buttons going down his shirt. He was wearing smooth trousers also. Hermione nuzzled her nose at his neck. That scent. It was incredibly pleasant. A thick midnight musk with frankincense. Hermione took a deep breath in of his smell, reveling in the earthy-soothing feel it gave her.

Seconds turned into minutes. And minutes turned into hours. Hermione wasn't sure. She had no way of telling time. Counting the seconds only worked until so high that you can't equate the numbers into minutes.

The man's arms had settled around her in a cradle hold. Resting on her. His head was against the wall behind them and Hermione continued to rest her head on his shoulder.

He had hurt her. He had humiliated and beaten her. Pushing her to betray Harry. But he had brought her food and water. The man gave her company and cleaned her wounds. Yet he was also an ally of -if not working for like he claimed- Bellatrix. He couldn't be trusted. Hermione was growing a headache debating on where this man's loyalties lie. She was tired and he was warm. Could he be a spy maybe? Was he captured too? No, that didn't make sense.

The distraught woman curled more into the chest, enjoying his hold and allowing herself to relax.

Maybe he wasn't completely evil like Bellatrix and Voldemort. Maybe he didn't want to be with them but was forced? Hermione raked her brain for the possibilities. It had been her previous understanding that everyone who joined Voldemort wanted to. They were all evil. But if that was not the case, Hermione wouldn't be finding comfort in the enemy. Comfort from him felt good… even though he had harmed her earlier… He was taking care of her also. And Hermione could use all the help and happiness in this dungeon that she could get…

.o.o.o.

A/N

What do you guys think of the depictions of time? Does it really seem like it could be weeks or months that she's been there? Her waking hours are spent doing nothing and she has an irregular sleep pattern. It could seem like any day, the same day, a few days later. I'm trying to make it like there is literally no way of knowing how long she has been there and the reader seems to be confused with the memory gaps and sleep and scenes as well.

What did you guys think of this chapter? Had a little tease in this chapter. lol. Getting the ball rolling. Any suggestions? Any criticism?

Please leave me a commen